#the finale is going to kill me dead you guys
Text
flawless execution: sim jaeyun
roles reversed au of chilling & killing 🔪 | spotify playlist
pairing: jake x afab!reader
word count: 9.2k
synopsis: when a masked serial killer is on the loose, jake, the head of the journalist department at his college, gets put in charge of the cases along side you as his second. as jake unfolds the mystery, other truths come out.
genre: ghostface!reader, journalist!jake, smut
warnings: swearing, blood + m*rder mentions, unprotected sex, knife play, dom!reader, switch!jake, hair pulling, jake gets cut at some point, tit sucking, lemme know if I missed anything. MINORS DNI!!!
His cell phone rang once…twice…three times before he finally pulled the device from his pocket and answered the call. Before he could form a sentence, the other voice was speaking.
“Turn on the campus news right now. More bodies were found.”
Jake quickly turned from where he was standing and jumped over his couch, fumbling with the remote.
“The masked killer ghost face has killed college students __ and __ and were found roughly an hour ago by the fountain on campus grounds—“
Jake didn’t finish listening before gathering his things and burst out his apartment door, running as quickly as possible to campus.
A crowd was already forming around the famous fountain, caution tape, and police pushing back the students. Jake pushed his way through the crowd, holding up his campus journal ID to the policeman, “Let me through.”
The officer side-eyed his ID and then Jake, opening his mouth to speak but Jake wasn’t having any of it, “Let. Me. Through.”
“He’s with me,” you yelled at the officer from where you stood by the fountain, “Let him in.”
The officer pulled up the tape with a groan, finally letting Jake through.
He jogged over to your side, glaring back at the asshole officer, “How did you get here before me?”
You crossed your arms, looking at the fountain, “I’m just that good. You’re more worried about how I got here first when we have a job?” you giggled, giving him a wink.
Jake chuckled at you. He loved that he had you as his partner. You were funny and a super genius at everything you do. Jake looked at the fountain as well, examining the two bodies that were propped on the fountain. They were players on the hockey team.
Jake pulled his notepad and pen from his back pocket, taking note of who these guys were and the state of their bodies. Both men had their throats slashed, backs bent over the fountain, and heads completely submerged in the water. They each had roughly twelve stab wounds to their torso, with a few slashes to each of their arms and legs. The water of the fountain and the white marble of the fountain were stained red. He rubbed his fingers against his lips, deep in thought. Whoever this ghost face is, they didn’t go easy on these guys.
“Do we know who found them?” Jake asked you, jotting more notes down on his notepad and glancing over at you.
You slowly look over at him, “Crazy thing is,” you sigh, looking back to the bodies, “Yunjin and myself.”
Jake placed his hands on your shoulders, turning you to completely face him, “That’s how you got here before me?!? YN, what happened?!”
You pinch his bicep, giving him a smirk, “You’re still more concerned about how I got here first? This isn’t a competition, Jakey poo.”
Jake rolled his eyes at the nickname you’ve given him, dropping his arms to his sides, “I kind of need to know what my partner knows, don’t I?”
You smile at him, then turn your body back to the dead bodies. Jake could have sworn he saw a sparkle light up your eyes as you studied them. You always loved being on the scene of the crimes, Jake did too. Something about the thrill of finding evidence and solving the cases is so exhilarating. But you always seemed to enjoy it more than Jake did. It’s one factor that will help make you one damn good detective someday. You already have offers from multiple different offices looking to scout you.
“Yunjin and I were just taking a walk. Talking about the drama going on with the other people in her major and that’s when we found the bodies.”
Jake studied your face, watching how the early summer wind blew your hair into your eyes and how you fought to keep the strands pulled behind your ears, it was cute. “Where is Yunjin now?” Jake asked, scanning the crowd of students.
You pointed off to your left, “She’s with an officer right now, sitting on the park bench with one of the campus professors. Think he’s a stem professor.” Jake spotted your best friend, her red hair covered her face as she rocked back and forth on the bench, arms holding herself and the professor trying to comfort her. He walked around you, preparing himself to ask Yunjin the questions he’ll need to, only to be stopped by you, “Don’t question her right now,” you said, pulling him towards you, resting your breasts against his bicep, pleading with him, “she’s not taking all this very well,” Jake opened his mouth to protest, to tell you he had a job to do. Still, you stopped him again, “Please, Jakey! She’s my best friend, I’ll handle it and get you up to date, I promise.”
Jake knew he had no control over this matter, she was your best friend and it honestly might be easier for her to speak with you. So Jake nodded, letting you take that lead, and smiled at you. But there still was a job to do, so Jake pulled your arms off his gently, trying his best to not press his arm any closer to your breasts than it already was from your grip, “Let’s get this show on the road, shall we?”
You nodded, pulling out your own notebook from your bag. Jake asked you a few questions first about arriving on the scene and writing everything down. After that he pulled his camera from his bag, taking pictures around the fountain, the bodies, and the surrounding area. Not wanting to leave any details out.
You watched him as he did his thing, following behind him taking your own notes and photographs, studying the area just as much as he was. Jake was in his element, that’s for sure. He wasn’t crowned head of the journalism department for no reason. Eventually Jake knelt to the ground, slinging his camera over his shoulder and jotting more notes down. You removed your gaze from him to look at your best friend, seeing her already staring back at you.
You could see her bottom lip was trembling, and fear and concern spread throughout her whole face as she wrapped her arms tighter around herself, scooting closer to the officer. The small smile you had faded as you watched your friend, wanting to—
“YN,” Jake called you over, turning your attention back to him. He pulled two latex gloves from his bag and pulled them onto his hands, “I found something.”
You knelt down beside him, watching as he lifted the camera and shot a couple of photos, “What did you find?”
Jake reached over, picking up a broken earring from underneath one of the guy’s shoes, gently holding it between his gloved fingers and holding it up to the sky, “How did something like this get here?”
Jake narrowed his eyes at her earring, it looked familiar. But he couldn’t pinpoint how or why. The earring wasn’t too feminine or too masculine, making it a perfect fit for any gender and nowhere even helping narrow down who this ghost face even was. All Jake knew was the killer had to have their ears pierced.
“Maybe they had it on their person already?” you suggested, leaning closer to Jake to get a better view of the earring, “Or maybe the killer somehow dropped it?”
“I’m thinking of the ladder,” Jake whispered, turning the earring between his index and thumb, “But that just means these boys fought whoever our ghost face is.”
“That’s definitely a great possibility,” you said with a sigh, glancing over to Jake’s face, seeing how focused he was on this earring.
Jake gave the earring to a forensics investigator to take back to their lab. The police eventually came over and shooed you and Jake off the scene to let the professionals take over, forcing the two of you to head to the journalism office on campus to finish the rest of your own investigations. Jake and you printed off the photos the both of you took and took notes on what the other wrote down in their own notebooks, making copies for each other to have.
Jake was racking his brain on this case and the previous ones that ghost face had committed. He glanced up at the clock, seeing how late it was, and dismissing the meeting, the both of you going your separate ways.
Jake stood at the edge of campus and watched as you made your way to your own apartment complex on the other side of the school, wanting to make sure you at least got halfway through campus safely before making his own way to his apartment.
You weren’t completely new to the journalism scene but were still new as an official journalist in a way. Before you joined the club, it was just Jake and Danielle, a freshman who has a keen eye for writing and helped Jake out with every paper that was written and sent off to the news club. But with the mysterious ghost face killings, he needed an extra set of hands. Danielle wrote about everything with the school, not just the crimes that happened here. And with her still being a freshman, Jake needed that help. He tried to take it up alone, but as the body count started rising, the more it got harder to handle. That’s when you came in, answering Jake's application he posted around the campus and on the campus website.
Jake has seen you around campus many times before you joined his team but knew next to nothing about you, so of course he did his research before just letting you join the team, can’t have a killer in the ranks huh? But everything about you came back clean. No criminal record or record of anything bad at all. You were a straight-A student back in school, were born and raised in the next town over, and was the sweetheart of that town. You graduated top of your class and was accepted into this college two years before your graduation. You volunteered and donated to charity and worked as an intern at the local police station every weekend to help land you a job there after graduating college. Jake was amazed at how smart you were and dedicated to the job of being a detective someday. And you’d make a killer one someday.
You were perfect for the team, Jake would be stupid to not accept you. You fit into the team perfectly and became his second and partner super quickly. He taught you everything he knew, and you succeeded way past his expectations. You were honestly a blessing and Jake couldn’t be happier to have found you for the team. When you first joined, the ghost face killings were only at six…but with the ones that were found today, the count went up to seventeen.
—
Jake found himself waving in and out of the club office in between classes the following week, adding photos and new news articles about the ghost face cases to the corkboard he kept in the office. Wrapping red string around the thumbtacks connecting to each murder and each suspect that was under Jake’s radar.
He stared at the corkboard for what felt like hours, soon enough classes were done for the day and Danielle walked into the office, “I swear you were staring at that board when I walked past an hour ago.”
So I have been looking at this thing for too long
Jake blinked a few times at Dani then released a sigh, “Been trying to wrap my brain around this for way too long.”
Danielle giggles, “Then why don’t you help me write this article about the victims from the hockey team.”
Jake smiled, agreeing to help her. He sat down beside her at the table, advising as she typed out the article and pulled up the facts about the case from his notes and what the official news had stated.
The longer Jake helped Dani write the paper, the more he came to the realization the two guys the ghost face killed were…kind of assholes. They apparently already were under investigation by the campus police for harassment of other females and even tipped one of the hockey refs to let any of their team's penalties go unnoticed. They weren’t great guys, but they didn’t deserve to die, not the way they were killed.
As Danielle emailed the article to the news club and packed up her things, you made your appearance in the club, “Sorry I am late,” you said rushing in and setting your backpack to the floor, “My exam ran later than I thought it would, ran as fast as I could across campus to get here.” Jake smiled at you as he watched you pull your long hair back into a ponytail, taking notice of how flushed your face was from your run here.
“It’s okay,” Jake finally said, glancing down at his notes, “Danielle and I wrote the article and I’ve been staring at that corkboard all day, we can push the meeting to tomorrow.”
You sat down beside him, staring at Danielle as she stood up, “You heading out?”
Danielle nodded, “Tryouts for the volleyball team for next semester are coming up, fixing to head off to one of the practices the coach is hosting for them.”
You gave her a thumbs up, “You got this! You’ll be the best on the team Dani!” the younger blushed and thanked you, giving her own thumbs up as she rushed out of the office, closing the door behind her.
Jake's eyes trailed from the door to you, finding how cute your flushed face looked.
“How did writing the article go?” you asked, taking notice of how hard Jake was staring, forcing the ends of your lips to curl up. You pulled your laptop from your backpack, still waiting for his answer.
But Jake was in a daze. He always found you super cute. And it’s not that often he gets to spend alone time with you like this. Most of the time the both of you are working on a project or the ghost face murders so there wasn’t time to just sit and hang out like there was right now.
Jake bit the inside of his cheek, eyes trailing down from your eyes to your lips, to your jawline, and then…“What happened to your ear?”
Your left ear lobe looked as if it were cut in half, clear stitches pulled the skin tight together and were a slight pink color, showing it was recent but healing properly. Normally you have your hair down or pulled half up and he wasn’t normally this close to you on your left side, so Jake never was able to notice this injury.
You covered your ear, eyes locking with Jake’s, “Uhh, it happened not too long ago,” you said, giving him a small smile, “Yunjin and I were messing around, my earring got caught in her shirt and pulled a bit too hard.”
Jake raised his brows and stuck his bottom lip out, “That sounds like it was painful.”
You giggled at his concerned cute look, turning back to face your laptop, “It wasn’t fun, that’s for certain.”
Speaking of Yunjin, “Hey,” Jake cleared his throat, “I still need to speak with Yunjin about what hap—“
You cut him off, “Please give her more time, Jake,” you quickly said, fumbling with some files on your laptop, “She’s still very shaken up. Hasn’t spoken much at the apartment after finding the bodies. I’ll get the police reports from her account soon and it’ll help us out a lot, I’m sure of it.”
Another week has passed since the fountain murders and Jake’s brain was on overdrive. He moved the corkboard from the office to the kitchen in his apartment, hoping the fluorescent bulbs of his kitchen would illuminate the board in better ways than the ones at the office.
Jake leaned against the back of his couch, cupping his jaw in his hand while the other hand gripped his elbow, his eyes trailing every inch of the board from the very first ghost face murder to the recent one. Every news article and photograph and police report possible from all cases was plastered on the board, the red string tying everything together but also totally not.
Nothing made sense to him. Nothing connected together to help him have an eureka moment. Whoever this ghost face was, they were good at what they do. Covering their tracks in every possible way and not even leaving a single piece of DNA at the crime scenes, that was until the earring.
Jake ran his hands through his dark hair and tangled his fingers at the back strand of his hair by his neck, letting out a groan. He needed that final police report that you have yet to give to him. Needed to get Yunjin’s account of what happened that day. These were important pieces to the puzzle that were missing and he needed them now. Jake glanced up at the clock above his kitchen sink, it was now one thirty in the morning. But Jake’s thoughts on needing those items didn’t care what time it was and didn’t stop him as he pulled his shoes on and bounced out the door.
He now stood outside your apartment door, knocking loudly and not giving a damn who heard it. There was no answer. Jake knocked again. Still silent. He pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed your number. The line rang twice.
Shuffling could be heard from the other side of the door, the knob turning and the door opening to reveal you in your pajamas and half awake with messy hair. You groaned, “Jake, don’t you know what time it is?” you yawned, stretching your arms out, “Why are you even here?”
“Can I have the police report?”
You blinked at him, “Huh?”
Jake leaned back against the railing, crossing his arms, “The police report, YN. I need it. Can I have it?”
You let out another yawn, “It’s at the school. In the office.”
Of course, it was, why wouldn’t it be? The campus was closed and Jake could risk getting caught sneaking into the campus this late at night for a damned piece of paper. Jake sighs, “Thanks anyway” he lifts himself off the rail, turning to leave but then stops, “Can I speak to Yunjin?”
You scoff and roll your eyes, leaning against the doorframe and crossing your arms, “Jake, it’s almost two in the morning, why are you even out and about? What if ghost face gets you?”
Then they get me I guess. I’ll put up a fight.
Jake knew it was a risk coming over here. Mostly because the killer had to be a student. They could be lurking anywhere on campus ground or the apartments/houses surrounding it. He knew it was dangerous.
“YN,” he mumbled your name, “I can’t sit back and do nothing. I need to catch this murder.”!
You frowned at him, your eyes softening for him, “Jakey, you know you’re allowed to live a normal college life right? To be a normal student?” Jake just shrugs. He knew he could have a normal everyday life if he wished, but he couldn’t rest until he knew this town was safe from ghost face. You roll your eyes at him, “Jake, go home and go to sleep, I can see the bags under your eyes. Let the professionals take care of this, ya? We can only do so much as student detectives and journalists.”
Jake tilted his head and raised a brow, never once had he ever heard you speak that way, “Let me speak to Yunjin.”
You stood your ground, “No! Go home Sim Jaeyun, before you get yourself killed.”
Jake scoffs, “See you tomorrow then.”
You repeated the words before slamming the door in his face. Jake quickly walked down the stairs, his anger fuming. He didn’t understand why you were so against him speaking with Yunjin. He thought maybe you were being protective over your best friend and for her peace of mind, but Yunjin didn’t look well after discovering the bodies and was completely shaken up to the point where she didn’t show up to campus for a handful of days. Knowing this information and you acting weird over it only made him want to speak to Yunjin even more. Jake’s interest peaked when he noticed Yunjin’s vehicle wasn’t in its normal parking spot.
Meaning she wasn’t home.
Jake has respected your wishes through this entire case on speaking with Yunjin, but this matter was getting series and he was growing desperate for answers. Talking to Yunjin just might be the big break he needed. The side of Jake’s lips curled in a smile as he quickly jogged to the entrance of your apartment complex and took one final look back at your door to make sure you were inside. Once he confirmed you weren’t in sight, he pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed a number.
“He-hello?”
“Yunjin, it’s Jake. Where are you right now?”
—
Jake found Yunjin sitting on one of the park benches by the fountain. She stared with all her focus at the fountain, lips pulled into a thin line and hands clasped together in her lap. Jake bit at the inside of his cheek, feeling bad for her and the thoughts that could be running through her mind at this moment, or well, ever since the murders.
“You know,” Jake teased as he walked closer to her, trying to ease the tension, “There are other ways to get distractions from what happened.”
Yunjin just glared at him through her dark red bangs, “I’m not in the mood to joke around, Sim.”
Jake sighed, now biting at the skin on his lips as he sat down beside her, keeping his eyes locked on the fountain. It was clean now, obviously, but Jake could see the two bodies slumped over the marbled stone and blood pooling out onto it and in the water. If Jake didn’t take on crime scenes for a living—or well future living—he too probably would be losing his brains.
“How are you holding up?” Jake asked after some time, already knowing the answer.
Yunjin scoffs, wrapping her arms around herself, “Holding up as in two weeks ago I found two dead bodies bent over that fountain, or holding up as in I’ve been questioned left and right by literally everyone, or my best friend/roommate smothering me to stay home and just take time?”
Jake truly felt terrible for Yunjin, mostly for what he was about to ask her. Jake could see that she wanted to forget about it, to push it to the back of her mind and act like it never happened. Who could blame her? It takes special people to look at a dead body and be completely unfazed by it. Jake just happened to be one of those special people.
“I am so sorry for having to ask you to go through this again…” Jake said barely above a whisper, keeping his body as still as possible.
Yunjin sighs, “If I am being honest, I’ve been wanting to talk to you for a while about all this.”
Jake quickly turns his body to face her, being a little too excited to finally get Yunjin’s account, “Yeah?”
She nodded, turning to face him, pulling her legs to her chest, “YN was against it, talking to you,” she swallowed, staring off at something past Jake, “Something was off about her that day…I had a bad feeling the entire day.”
“What do you mean?” Jake placed a hand on her elbow, “You’re safe, you can tell me anything. Start from the beginning?”
Yunjin stared into his eyes and nodded, reverting her eyes back off into the distance, “She told me she was meeting up with some people from her class to work on a project,” she took a deep breath, “At first I thought nothing of it, she’s met up with classmates before. So you could probably understand my surprise when said classmates called me to ask where she was because they tried calling her wanting to ask about meeting up. Which was odd, so I told them that she said she was already heading to meet them, and they said they had zero clue what I was talking about.”
Jake sat back on the bench, staring off into the distance now, the cogwheels of his brain slowly starting to turn, waiting for Yunjin to continue speaking.
“I got terrified. I rushed out of the apartment and searched everywhere for her. Scared and thinking I was going to find my best friend murdered off somewhere, ya know?” Jake understood completely. With the ghost face on the run, everyone was watching their backs and keeping their loved ones close and being so afraid. It was a question of who would be next? Who is next? “But I found her lingering around the edge of campus digging through her duffle bag. My heart nearly stopped when I saw she was alive,” she took another deep breath, “I confronted her, and she played it off that she meant people from her volunteer job on the other side of campus.”
Jake studied her face, trying to read it, seeing how pale she was getting now, “I believed her at first, thinking maybe I just misheard her that morning and we started walking back to the apartment. But she wasn’t acting normal, acting like herself. Kept touching her ears and digging through her duffle bag and saying she needed to go find something and just ran off. So I decided to follow her the best I could in the direction she ran off to. I couldn’t just let her go off on her own, not when there’s a crazy psycho ghost face killer on campus. I saw her go through the gates to the park, but once I reached there…I couldn’t find her and just kept walking until…the bodies…” Her eyes widened and tilted her head down to the bench, hands clenching her shins.
Jake cupped her face with his hands, pulling her to look back up at him, doing his best to comfort her, “Hey, it’s all okay.”
She nodded, pulling her face out of his hands and staring at the fountain, “I smelt the blood first and noticed their bodies second. And…I heard footsteps behind me and I just knew…I knew I would be next. Before I could turn around and face the killer, the stem professor was walking by, noticing the bodies and dropping everything he had in his hands to the grass and was screaming, locking eyes with me, and pointing saying that we did it. I whipped around to see YN standing behind me, her eyes were wide and her skin was pale and sweaty, staring back and forth between me, the professor, and the bodies. And she’s never been surprised to see bodies. She’s been working with you for over a year now, so when I saw how surprised she was…the look on her face…”
Jake opened his mouth to speak, but Yunjin kept going, “The funniest thing is her duffle bag was missing,” she scoffed and shook her head, “How does a duffle bag just disappear.” It was a good question. A damned good question, “She hasn’t been the same since then.”!
Jake decided to try and lighten the mood, “Maybe you short-circuited her brain when the two of you were wrestling around not too long ago.” Yunjin gave him a confused look, “You know? She said the two of you were messing around and her earring got caught in her shirt and pulled it straight down her ear. She got stitches for it?” Jake pointed to his left ear lobe, tracing it down the middle where it was cut clean in half, “Right here.”
Yunjin raised a brow, “I don’t know what you are talking about, Jake. We don’t wrestle each other or she’s never close enough to me where her jewelry would snag on my clothing. We barely hug each other too.” The smile Jake had faded, confusion pulled on his face. Before Jake could respond, Yunjin’s phone started vibrating in her pocket, She pulled it out and saw your caller ID on the screen, “Guess she figured out I’m not at the apartment.” She locked the phone, ignoring the call, “I don’t tell her when I leave the apartment. So I guess I’ll need to prepare myself for a lecture when I get back.” She stood up, stretching her arms out above her head, “Thank you for listening to me. I feel a lot better, honestly. I don’t want to suspect my best friend, and it more than likely isn’t even her. She’s just being weird, I guess.”
Jake stayed on the bench and watched as Yunjin disappeared into the night before standing up and finally making his way back to his apartment and crawling into his bed. Jake replayed Yunjin’s story over and over and over, trying to piece together every bit of information she gave him tonight. It still didn’t make any sense. None of it did. Nevertheless, it didn’t stop Jake from pulling his phone off the charger and sending you a quick text to meet him at his apartment as soon as possible tomorrow. To his surprise, you responded back rather quickly saying you had some volunteer work that morning but will be there right after.
—
“You know, you should really keep your front door locked Jakey poo, there’s a killer out there.” You teased him, making yourself at home and dropping your duffle bag into the chair at his kitchen table. Your eyes looked at him, then to the corkboard, “Make any kind of progress yet?”
Jake took a quick glance at your duffle bag and then at you, then back to the board, “I haven’t. And I left my door unlocked on purpose since you were coming over. You always let yourself in anyways.”
You smiled at him, walking to stand at his right, crossing your arms behind your back and staring directly at the board, eyes trailing the red string to each case. Jake let out a sigh and ran a hand through his hair. You glanced up at him, “Don’t worry, we’ll catch them. It’s no doubt, Jakey poo.”
Jake looked down at you, his heart skipping a beat at the nickname you’ve given him, clenching his hands against his biceps. You looked back at the corkboard, giving Jake the perfect access to look at your left ear lobe. The ditches were gone, but the scar was still very much present. Jake bit at the skin on his cheek, processing his thoughts.
You looked back up at him, noticing his stare, and gave him another smile, “Mind if I freshen up in your bathroom? I got kinda sweaty at my volunteer job today, I probably don’t smell like roses and sunshine.”
Jake scrunched his nose in a joking matter, “Please do, you smell stinky.”
You roll your eyes and pinch his arm, moving quickly away from his side before he can pinch you back, “I’m going to steal your deodorant and cologne, by the way.”
Jake waited until you disappeared down the hallway and heard the bathroom door shut before slowly walking over to your duffle bag. He didn’t want to suspect you any more than Yunjin did. But Yunjin’s story from last night wasn’t adding up. Your actions weren't adding up. The story you told him wasn’t adding up. Nothing added up. The puzzle pieces weren’t fitting no matter how hard Jake tried to fit them in place.
Jake took a quick glance down the hallway then back at your duffle, his hands moving on their own as he reached for the zipper and slowly opened the bag. Jake’s eyes widened as he stared inside the bag, biting at his lip to keep any deep breaths from escaping and alerting you. He forced himself to take a couple of calm breaths before looking deeper into the bag.
The police report he had asked you multiple times for along with the earring from the crime scene in a ziplock bag was found. That wasn’t all. A matching earring was found in the bag and to Jake’s dismay, the ghost face mask and black suit sat inside. Jake picked up the ziplock and matching earring, staring at them and finally realizing where he’d seen them before: in your ears. Jake dropped the ziplock and earring back in and with shaky hands he picked up the ghost face mask. Why did you have these items? It was a stupid question to even ask himself. Jake knew exactly why you had these items. He knew and still tried to come up with any excuse as to why. But after seeing the contents of your bag, all the puzzle pieces fit all too perfectly.
“Didn’t your mother ever teach you that it’s rude to go through people’s things, Jakey?” Before he could react, a knife was pressed to his neck, and your arm wrapped around his waist, “Didn’t think you were the snooping type. I expected more from you.”
You stood on your tiptoes to reach his ear, your breath sending chills down his spine. Any doubts Jake had about you were now long gone and out the window. You are ghost face. You’re the killer.
“Keeping secrets is also very rude,” Jake retorts, dropping the mask back in the bag, “We’re partners, there should be no secrets with us,” Jake swallowed, “But I figure you already knew that I knew. Because why else would you leave your bag for me to snoop in.”
You giggle, wrapping your arm even tighter against his waist and pressing the knife more into his skin, “Hmm, can’t get nothing past you, can I Jakey?”
You traced your nose against his cheek, forcing him to tilt his head to the side at your touch, “Why?” he asked.
You continued to nuzzle your nose against his cheek, “Hmm why did I do it?” you giggle, “You’ll need to be a bit more specific.”
Jake swallowed, “Everything.”
You giggle again, “Because it’s fun.” It was a simple yet spine-chilling answer, “You think I played this fucking good girl act because I actually wanted to? No, no. I had to play this part, all to keep my secret well, a secret. This is all just fun and games to me, Jake.”
“And that’s why you joined our team,” he growled, “To make it harder for us to figure you out.”
You shrug, “I thought it would spice things up a bit, truly. Yeah working on the inside made it so much easier for me to keep my secret and tamper with evidence. It covered my tracks very well,” you gritted your teeth, “Until you started picking up on. Every. Fucking. Thing!” you hissed against his ear, almost losing your balance on your tiptoes, “You made it so much harder to keep my tracks covered. Picking apart every single fucking thing with each murder case. I was lucky you didn’t suspect me. That was until you started poking your perfect nose into my fucking business. Jake, don't think I didn’t know that you tore apart the damn office looking for the police report before showing up at my doorstep? Or that you talked to Yunjin after I strictly told you to not to?”
Jake chuckled, “You have the office and our phones bugged.” Knowing that information should surprise him, but at this point nothing does.
You smirked and pressed your cheek against his, “Smart boy! Think I wouldn’t bug your phone? Or my best friends?”
Jake went still, “You were going to kill her, weren’t you YN?”
You giggled, “Yes I was,” his body went cold, “It would have been a pity, truly, to kill off my best friend all because she also stuck her nose where it didn’t belong.”
Jake looked back into the bag at the ziplock containing the broken earring, “You fucked up and went back to your earring.”
You pressed the knife tighter against his throat, “Shut the fuck up!” you growled, “That asshole fought me instead of taking what he deserved! Didn’t even realize my earring was ripped out of my fucking ear until I fled the scene after murdering them both and felt the blood dripping down my neck. I had to clean myself up so fast and knew I had to find where it broke off. Having to trace my steps throughout the whole park and go back to the crime scene to see her standing there. Had to ditch my bag behind a tree and slide my knife into my jeans, preparing to murder my best friend.”
Jake scoffed, “All to keep your fucking secret.”
“Watch it, Jakey,” you hissed, “You have a knife to your throat, remember?”
Jake clenched his jaw, “He fought you right? Probably accidentally knocked off your mask and saw your face. You acted too hastily and sliced his throat, but not quick enough before he was yanking at your earring.”
You nodded, a wide smile on your face, “Nothing gets past you, Jakey. You’d really make a good detective someday.”
Jake needed to turn you in. He needed to get out of here safely and turn you in before you could commit any more crimes and hurt any more people. Seventeen. You’ve murdered seventeen people and probably more than that before you took on the ghost face persona.
You pressed your breasts against his back, “You know,” you whisper, “I’ve dreamt about doing this with you, my knife being pressed to your throat,” you completely pressed the front of your body against his backside, “It’s really fucking hot.”
It was now or never. Jake was bigger than you, he could easily take you on maybe. You did take on TWO hockey players alone. But Jake felt like he still stood a chance. Mostly if he catches you off guard.
Jake leaned into you, feeling you struggle to keep upright on your tiptoes, and grabbed both your wrists, quickly twisting your wrist with the knife, “FUCK!” you shout, dropping the knife to the floor. Jake quickly kicked it from in front of him and twisted your arms and body around, making a quick move to press you face-first against the wall.
You wiggled in his strong grip, clenching your jaw tightly as you attempted to break free, “Let me go!” he caught you off guard and now you were paying that price.
“Stop fighting me!” he snapped, pushing you further against the wall and keeping his chest pressed to your back, “Turn yourself in!”
You chuckled, taking a couple of deep breaths in. Acting fast and wrapping your left leg around his and pulling at his knee, forcing it to bend. You used all your strength and pushed back at him, sending him to his ass on the floor and getting out of his grip.
You climbed in his lap and pressed him to the floor, using one hand to pin his arms above his head and reaching for the knife with the other and placing it back to his neck. Jake was so in shock by your strength and quick thinking that it took him by surprise. Guess you both know how to outsmart the other.
All Jake could do was breathe deeply and stare up at your beautiful face. Your beautifully killer face.
You licked your tongue, tilting your head to the side, “You look so handsome, all underneath me like this.” You relaxed your legs and straddled him, feeling your arousal pool in your panties. It turned you on so bad seeing him under you like this with your weapon so close to his throat. You’ve only been able to dream of this. Dreamed what he’d look like under you and how he’d sound. This definitely exceeded your expectations. What made it even better? Feeling how hard he was getting against you and the look he was giving you? So full of anger? Your panties were soaked.
Jake could feel your arousal seeping into his pants, trying hard to not be affected by it but his cock betrayed him. Jake also has dreamt what it would look and feel like to be underneath you. To feel your body moving against his. He just didn’t think it would be under these circumstances. So he chose to be angry, “Do your panties always get so wet when you’re killing someone?” Jake spat, the fire in his eyes burning.
You tilt your head to the other side, “You aren’t afraid of me?”
Jake lifted his head, staring down at you, “Why the fuck would I be afraid of someone who gets wet by killing people?”
You laugh, rolling your hips against his clothed hard cock. Loving the way he struggled to keep quiet and calm, “Babe, you’re the only one I’ve ever got wet for. The others were just killings to kill. But you, Jake? You just do something to me.”
From the very first day of seeing Jake on campus, you wanted nothing more than to have his buried balls deep in your cunt. Wanted to ride him so hard as you made cuts to his skin and watch as he moaned and bled out. Wanted to feel him cum so deep and make you his.
You had more than just one reason to join the team than to hide your secret. You wanted to get closer to him. Get to know him and fuck him so good and kill him right after. You weren’t expecting your plan to be pushed up so soon. You wanted Jake afraid of you as you made the killing blow. You weren’t expecting him to look at you with such anger, so unafraid.
You leaned down, being nearly inches away from his beautiful face, pressing the knife harder against his neck, “You get me so wet,” you rocked your heat against him. Jake’s composure failed him, his mouth falling slack and a small moan left his lips. The effect you had on him was obvious, you knew it too.
Jake couldn’t lie and say he wasn’t crushing on you. He’s had heart eyes for you since the first day you walked into the office. How couldn’t he? You are perfect. Still was even with you sitting on top of him with your knife to his throat.
Jake relaxed his body, “If you’re going to kill me, then do it and get it over with.”
You smiled, “Want me to?” You released his hands and as if on instinct, he moved them to your thighs. You slide the knife from his neck and to his shirt, looping your fingers with the collar and pressing the knife into the fabric, cutting a line and using your hands to rip the shirt in two, revealing his toned chest and abs. You bit the inside of your cheek.
Jake smirked, “Like what you see?”
His words drew you back in. Tracing the tip of the knife down his and abs, tracing out their outline, “Where should I start then?”
Any ounce of willpower Jake had was gone. He wanted you. Now. He squeezed your thighs and lifted his head up, closing in those few inches and pressing his lips to yours, taking in the sweet taste of your vanilla chapstick and the softness of your lips. You rock against him again, making him moan into your mouth, “Start by taking your clothes off and rid me of the rest of mine,” he whispered.
You giggle against his lips and pull away, setting the knife down, “Yeah?” Jake nodded, sliding his hands from your thighs to the edge of your shirt, sneaking his fingers underneath and moving up, tracing the tips of his fingers against your skin all the way up until your shirt was off and thrown off somewhere in the apartment.
Jake lifted his body up, pressing his chest to yours and flattening his palms to your back as he pulled you in for another kiss, shoving his tongue down your throat and unclasping your bra, and tossing it to the side. You placed your hands on his chest and shoved him down, pinning him back against the floor, “Don’t be so impatient, Jakey,” you cooed, “Should have known you’d be into serial killers.”
Jake tugged at your shorts and kept eye contact with you as you unbuttoned his pants, lifting yourself up enough to roll his pants and boxers off his hips, Jake kicking out of them, leaving him completely bare to you. He kept tugging at your shorts, “Honey, please,” he begged.
“I know,” you hummed, loving how submissive he was underneath you. You lifted yourself up, finally letting him pull your shorts and panties off your body. Jake was in heaven, roaming his hands over every inch of your naked body, bucking up his hips against your heat wanting to feel some type of friction, “Wanna be inside me that bad?”
Jake nodded, biting at his lower lip, “Baby, please.”
“Can’t keep the puppy waiting, now can we?” Jake moaned out at the new nickname. His hands flew to your breasts and squeezed the plush between his fingers. Fuck, you loved how he looks right now. Deciding you kept him waiting long enough, you took his length, pumping him a few times, and lined the tip to your entrance, “You ready, pup?” he nodded, biting his lower lip. He needed to be inside you.
You slide yourself down him, gasping out in pleasure at the stretch his cock gave you, his tip kissing your cervix. Jake moaned out at the feeling of you wrapped around him, his hands moving down to your waist, squeezing tightly, “fuck honey,” Jake hissed, his heart rate speeding up faster once you take the knife back in your hands, “you feel so fucking good and you’re just sitting there.”
You slowly rocked your hips against him, tracing the knife against his bicep. Oh, how badly did you want to cut him open and see his blood drip down his body. Jake’s moans filled his apartment, hands pushing your hips down harder against him as you rode him, slowly picking up your pace. Hearing him beg for your sex puts you on such an ego trip. He was putty in your hands. You wanted nothing more than to make a complete mess out of him as he cums deep inside you.
You started bouncing on his cock and making Jake tilt his head back against the floor and arch his back up, hands sure enough leaving bruises against your waist from his grip. He was a moaning mess. And you fucking loved it.
You placed one hand against his chest, pushing his back flat to the floor and using it as leverage to fuck him faster. You used this opportunity to dig the knife into the skin of his bicep, slowly making a cut.
Jake hissed through his teeth, feeling the small amount of blood drip down his arm. He pushed himself up in a sitting position, forcing your legs to wrap around his waist and hands now pressed to your back, “Keep moving.” he moaned against your neck and you obeyed the pup.
Jake was losing his mind feeling you riding him, brain going fuzzy at the mixture of your pussy and the blood dripping down his arm. But he loved it. Was so addicted to it.
“Cut me again,” he begged, biting your neck and sucking hard.
You yelped at how hard he bit, cutting another line underneath the first wound but a bit deeper.
He hissed against your skin, releasing his mouth and licking at the bruise, kissing down your chest and popping one of your nipples into his mouth, licking, biting, and sucking at the sensitive bud. Twirling his tongue around it and loving the moans that escaped your lips with each stroke of the muscle against your nipple. You threw your head back, hands gripping tightly against his shoulders as you kept up the pace of fucking yourself against his cock.
“Deeper,” he groans against your breasts, “Cut me deeper,”
You chuckled, “Your fucking crazy.”
Jake released your tit and attached your lips to his, hands roaming to your ass, “Says the serial killer.”
You pressed the tip of your knife to the back of his shoulder, “Why are you afraid of me, hmm?” you pressed the knife in and he hissed, dropping his face in your neck, “I could kill you right now.”
Jake pushed you harder against him, his cock rubbing harder against your cervix, “I have my own secrets.”
You moved the knife up, cutting a deep perfect line across his shoulder, the smell of his blood filling your senses, “Tell me your secrets, puppy.”
Jake chuckled, placing open mouth kisses on your neck, his head spinning from the blood loss, “You’re my stacker, don’t you already know them all?”
You hummed, watching the red liquid fall down his back and pool on his hardwood floor, “I only know what you’ve texted out or physically spoken,” you licked the shell of his ear and whispered, “Tell me anyway.”
Jake felt a surge of power, pushing you off him and flipping you over, sending the knife dropping to the floor and pressing your face against the floor and ass up in the air. He didn’t hesitate to slide his cock back deep into your pussy, his hips making contact with your ass, “Why should I tell you?” He smirked.
You shook at his sudden dominance over you, a smirk filling to your face as well, “I’m curious,” you cooed, rocking your hips back and forth against him, “Fuck me, Jake.”
He kept a firm grip against your neck and hip, pulling himself out to the tip and quickly shoving himself back in, fucking you so hard and fast. Jake flung his head back, mouth slack and moaning out in pure pleasure at the feeling of your cunt sucking him so well. Your moans also filled his apartment, only making Jake pump into you faster.
“I’m fucking in love with you,” Jake felt insane saying it out loud. Felt crazy that he even admitted it. Felt even crazier to admit it to the person he was fucking ruining. To a fucking murderer, “I’m so obsessed with you, honey.”
You bit down on your lip, fingers clawing at the floor as the pleasure he was making you feel. And now knowing he was obsessed with you made this all the more enjoyable, mostly since you were just as obsessed with him as he was with you. You were fucking crazy, Jake knew that. But everything about you drew him in and made him want you even more.
“Say you love me,” Jake demanded, “Tell me you’re fucking obsessed with me too.”
You were in love with him too. It was crazy, but who cared? Not when he was fucking you into oblivion and had zero fucks that you murdered seventeen people and could very well murder him at any moment.
The knot of your stomach was threatening to snap, “Jake,” you moaned his name, your hot breath fogging the wooden floor, “Pup, I’m going to cum.”
Jake took a fist full of your hair and yanked you up, your back now pressing against his chest, “Admit your feelings and obsession with me and I’ll let you cum, honey.” He kept pounding into you relentlessly, showing no signs of slowing down until you clenched around him and he came to a full stop, “What did I fucking say?”
You swallowed, leaning your head against his shoulder, “I’m in love with you,” you gasped out for air, “I’m so obsessed with you and have been ever first I laid my eyes on you.”
Jake smirked, “Such a good girl for me.”
He fucked back into you faster than before, your mouth going slack and nothing but moans escaping.
“Pup!” you cried, reaching your arms up and tangling your fingers in his hair, “I’m going to cu-cum.”
“Please,” he moaned, feeling his orgasm fast approaching, “Cum for me, baby. Let's cum together,” he kissed your temple, “Fucking cum around my cock, make a mess of me.”
A few more thrusts and you came around him following Jake’s orgasm a couple of seconds later, his want cum filling you whole and some leaking out your hole and pooling on the floor.
“Fuck,” he breaths against your ear, “Sex with you was so much better than I imagined it would be.” Jake was fucking insane. But that’s what made you love him so damn much, “Only imagined how good your cunt would feel wrapped around me and how it would feel to cum inside you. Holy fuck, honey.”
You smiled and rested the side of your face against his. The sex was so much better than you imagined too. The only thing that was missing would be killing him. But how could you? You loved him deeply. But that didn’t stop your want to see how beautiful he’d bleed out for you. You looked for the knife, but Jake was too quick.
“Awe babe,” he cooed, pressing the knife to your throat, his free hand grasping your hands and pressing them to your stomach, “You think you could pull a fast one on me?” he bit the shell of your ear and chuckled, “Here’s how things are going to go now,” he releases your hands and cupped your cheeks, pushing your head back to look at him, the knife pressing deeper, “You will keep your fucking mouth shut about these cases and let me take full control over it. You’ll sit in the office and look pretty while I close out the case and get rid of the evidence. You’ll give up this life as ghost face or else I’ll bury you six feet under myself, got it?”
You swallowed, your arousal forming again, clenching around him.
“You’d keep this a secret? All for me, pup?”
Jake smirked, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your lips, “All for you baby, but do you understand me?”
You nodded, not being able to say no to him. Not when he’s flipped the tables against you. He was fucking insane to keep this a secret when he has every opportunity to call the police and get you arrested. But it’s the fact that he is insane that he won’t do that. Not when he loves you oh so damn much. Jake was surprised he was so willing to drop the murder cases, all to keep you from harms way. He didn’t care if whatever this relationship was now was toxic. He just wanted you.
Jake kissed you again, slowly sliding his tongue down your throat and sliding himself in and out of you slowly until you came around his cock again.
Oh, what did Jake get himself into?
—perm tags: @alvojake @ikeuverse @woniebae @shawnyle @kangnina @jwnghyuns @in-somnias-world @zyvlxqht @aaa-sia @wonniethepoo @addictedtohobi @eneiyri @skzenhalove @fakeuwus @cherry-park @vousty @ladyartemesia @criminalyun @cmoundiamante @enhaverse713586 @wondipity @lhsvibez @jaeyunq @rikizm @kaykay11sworld @pockettwinzz @vixialuvs @seunghancore @enha-cafe @ohdeerhee @sunpov @zeeloveshee @hxxsxxng @moonrisearies @brownsugarbaybee @nshmrarki
—tags: @hearts4itoshi @jennifestival @neosexuals @i58ssj @seunghancore @emi-en @jentlecoeur @seonghwa10ve @yzzyhee @xenkimmie @niniissus @minjaexvz @capri-cuntz @heeseungsbabyy
#jake bby#jake sim#sim jake#sim jake x reader#reader x jake sim#sim jaeyun x reader#reader x sim jaeyun#sim jake smut#enhypen#enhypen x reader#reader x enhypen#enhypen fanfic#enhypen fanfiction#enhypen imagines#enhypen scenarios#enhypen smut#ghostface!jake#yeonzzzn writing#ghostface au
438 notes
·
View notes
Text
[I only have 30 pounds in my bank account] - Mafia!TF141*F!Reader
Summary: You sigh when it's the fifth time someone fights in your poor tea shop this month. You just open it two months ago, in an area ruled by mafia called '141'. Maybe you should find their boss and give them money or what to stop the bullshit keeps happening in your shop. (well, here they come)
Mafia!TF141*F!Reader, but only Soap and Ghost in this chapter unless I extend this
You’re just trying to fulfill your dream, plus survive with the money you earn with your shop, but you start questioning if this is a good idea, maybe you should just listen to your friend and be a 9-5 worker, sitting in front of a laptop the whole day.
This isn’t a good location to open a tea shop, your little shop will rather become a place for dealing drugs or getting extorted in the first month. The area is fully ruled by the mafia, hence the cops couldn’t do anything here, but it makes the rent extremely low, which you’re able to afford with money you saved during school, and have a tiny shop that can barely squeeze in more than 8 people.
Looking at the scene playing in your shop for the fifth time this month, you stare at the people fighting and break the cup with dead eyes. You want to shout, to kick these guys' ass out of here or hit them with your broom, yet you glance at their muscles and the knives in their hand – probably killing every day as work out, to your opposite one because you slump onto the bed once you close the shop and go upstairs, you choose to remain silent as the yelling only become louder.
Maybe you should find the mafia boss or some henchmen and give them half of your income to prevent the mayhem, but first, you don’t even know who actually rules this fucking place; second, you doubt they will have interest in your skimpy bank account. The only information you have is the mafia ruling here called ‘141’, since it’s an open secret to residents here.
“What are ye arseholes doin’?”
Fuck, here comes another one, or two as you spot the man with a balaclava behind the mohawk man who's speaking. They are tall, muscular and built like bricks. Grown like giraffes either, you complement when you need to crook your neck up to look at them stepping into your shop as if it's their backyard.
but the chaos halts immediately as you watch your ‘customers’ seem shocked with terror at the men.
You pretend you’re deaf and attempt to bury yourself in your counter. Please don’t kill me I didn’t hear a goddamn word and didn’t see you threatening them. You recite your defense as you scrub at the same tea cup till the distinct accent from the mohawk man catches you off guard that you almost drop it.
“I guess it’s already clean, lass.” A smirk appears on his face as he points at the cup.
“Wh– what do you want?”
“Calm down, jus’ want te have some tea.”
“I only have 30 pounds in my bank account.”
“We’re just sayin’ we want tea.” The taller man speaks for the first time after coming in, and it startles you but forces your brain to function at the same time.
Ah, they aren’t here for money. You finally get what they’re talking about.
“Isn’t it supposed te be a tea shop here? One cup for him, and give me a cup of coffee.”
“Oh, of course. What kind of tea would you like, Sir?” You shift slightly to meet the other man’s eyes, and you want to shiver under his cold eyes.
“Just give him whatever you recommend.”
They round over the glass scattering on the floor and take a seat closest to your counter after you nod at them.
While boiling the water, you sneak a glimpse at them, and the shape of guns covered by their clothes are unignorable as you scold yourself to stop looking at them, or the bigger guy might stab your eyes, but you still curse whole-heartedly in mind when the Scottish accent man meet your eyes with his azure ones and shines you a grin.
Should just quit staring, or you shouldn’t open this shop at all. Regretting your decisions as you turn back and focus back on making their drink, you’re able to recognize them staring at you from the periphery of your vision. Is it too late to kneel down and beg for your life right now?
You still perfectly make their orders and bring them the drinks, even though you’re sweating internally. At least don’t mess it up, and your confidence in your tea and coffee isn’t born from nothing, as you notice the man with the skull balaclava takes a sip first, then raises his eyebrow, added with a side glance at you.
“Haven’t seen him amazed by tea in years, it must be very good.” The mohawk man whistles as he sips at his coffee and gives an approving nod too.
“Thank you…” Your ego shouldn’t be boosted by mafias, but you still relax a bit knowing you didn't screwed up.
“When did ye open ‘is shop?” The man asks while the other continues drinking his tea, but seemingly taking in the conversation too.
“About two months ago."
"That’s why we didn't know about it before…” He taps at the table twice before shooting you another question “Got blokes like those in yer shop earlier often?”
Death sentence is served to your front, that’s what you think you hear. Is it better to say yes or no? Judging by the fact those people are their minions, you’re not sure if saying yes is indicating they haven’t controlled them appropriately.
“Tell us the truth”
“Yeah, it’s the fifth time this month.” Swallowing, you confirm. Lies aren’t meaningful, and surely they’re able to pierce any veil with those scrutinizing stares and keen minds.
You watch them sharing a glance, and Soap takes out a pen along with a piece of paper, and starts scribbling on it.
“Here, call this number when you run in trouble, aye?" He shoves the paper into your grasp “I’m Soap, call him Ghost.”
"It’s a nice shop, we’ll come back soon.”
Your little shop drops into peace again as your customers leave, and you gaze at the generous tip lying on your counter, to the paper in your palm.
A number is written on it, with a big badge of ‘141’ beside it.
Oh shit, so your shop just became the most far-flung mafia’s property without you knowing.
#cod imagine#cod x reader#cod x you#simon riley x you#simon riley x reader#ghost x reader#ghost x you#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley x you#john soap mactavish x you#john soap mactavish x reader#soap x you#soap x reader#kyle gaz garrick x you#kyle gaz garrick x reader#gaz x reader#gaz x you#john price x reader#john price x you#price x you#price x reader#tf141 x reader#tf 141 x reader#tf141 x you#queued post
347 notes
·
View notes
Text
Dissimulation - Continued Again
>Yan! Mafia! Childe x Fem! Student! Reader (Modern au)
>Word Count: 9.2k
>a/n: word vomit. i love him sm and i love having him do mental gymnastics just to get the girl (to get laid) also I wrote this in numerous pieces and by the writing changes you can tell lol. copium during finals. can't believe it's almost been a whole year since this fic was first published. also, I've had the same injury described later on. it bled a lot i thought i was gonna die.
Warnings: firearms, hidden blood kink, licking (I will not elaborate) childe doesn't like pillows, read at your own discretion
Part 1 | Continuation | reason why Childe #1 husband
Childe is waiting in the car.
That’s the thought that keeps repeating in your head. Honestly, it’s your fault. You insisted he not come with you inside, even going as far as getting mad at him when he initially refused. It’s only fair that you suffer the consequences of your actions.
You can still feel the muzzle of the revolver despite the layer of cloth separating it from your spine. How do you know it’s a revolver? Well, the bastard spun it before pressing it to your lower back. You’ve played enough video games to know what that sound belongs to.
“Stop walking so slow. Move it.”
You internally scoff at his words. If you move any faster, it’ll just be more suspicious. Well, good for you. If it’s suspicious then there’s a higher chance someone might intervene.
“To the right, right there.”
You do as he says. It’s not very tempting to disobey when there’s a loaded gun on your back. The man leads you down a small alleyway away from the hustle of the outdoor market. It’s dark, and there’s a pipe leaking somewhere. This is when dread really settles in, but you put on a brave face despite your trembling lip.
You hear the man click his tongue before ordering you to stop walking. The muzzle is still pressed to your spine, and he pulls out his phone with his free hand to call someone. “I got the girl here, so now you do your part.” Someone speaks on the other side, angering him. “You’re being delusional! This is the perfect chance,” he whisper-yells. “I got the girl here, so if things go bad, I shoot. We’ll at least do some damage.”
Shoot…? What the fuck did you get yourself into?
“The next time you call me back, it better be because the bastard’s dead or he’s given up.” With that, he angrily hangs up and shoves the phone in his pocket. You’re left facing the dead end of the alleyway, your captor behind you with his back to the only exit and entrance. “So,” he starts, “where did you first meet him?”
You decide to test the waters. From what you gathered so far, you are valuable until the other guy fails in what he’s supposed to do (which you have no clue of). “Me?” You feign innocence. “Meet who?”
He presses the muzzle even harder into you, making you stumble a step forward. “Don’t play dumb with me. Even if I kill you right now, it won’t affect anything. So tell me, where did you first meet him?”
You gulp nervously, heart beating in your throat. “T-the convenience store. It was a random occurrence.”
“And you knew who he was?”
“Yes,” you breathe.
“Hah. Stupid girl. Do you not know you’re the one usually targeted when he makes enemies? That you’re the face that comes up when he pisses someone off?”
Gaze dropping to the ground, you can’t help but think of all the kind things he’s done for you so far as you answer. “I had no choice.”
He clicks his tongue. “What, so he forced you to be his girlfriend?”
“I’m not his girlfriend…”
“So you’re just a pretty lady he keeps around?” Amusement is evident in his tone. He’s messing with you before he kills you. “Considering how expensive it was to find out about you, you’re damn special. If there’s one thing I know about Tartaglia, it’s that he’s not the type to keep a girl around for nothing or just her body. And that’s precisely why you’re in this situation.”
If you’re going to die anyway, you might as well say it. Ah, sorry mama. Couldn’t help it. “You think I’m pretty?”
Surprisingly, he takes it well. “I won’t deny you have a pretty face. I can see why he’d go to lengths to keep you a secret, but nothing can be hidden forever. Don’t worry. I won’t hurt your face when I kill you.”
Great. Now there’s stinging behind your eyes. This really is it. Maybe you should’ve told your parents you love them last night. Shit, is this really the end? So much for wanting to buy a birthday present from the market. Now you won’t live to see your next birthday.
The man groans out of annoyance, hand diving into his pocket to fish out his phone. “How long is he going to take…” You can hear him aggressively tapping at the device, and you wait for him to start whisper-yelling on the phone again but all that comes is the muzzle being removed from your back as something loudly whizzes through the air, and he lets out a silent cry of pain.
Something behind you falls to the ground with a thud, and judging how his voice seems to come from elsewhere, he’s the one who fell. “No, don’t come closer. I’ll shoot! I swear I will!”
You stay still, unknowing of what’s going on. Panic overtakes your senses, and your hands start trembling as you start feeling sick. Your body is going into fight or flight, and you really want it to choose flight. As you bring your trembling hands up into your view, a familiar voice calls out from behind.
“[Name], darling. Stay as you are. Don’t turn around.”
You freeze at Childe's words, immediately pressing your palms to your ears to block out some sound only to end up making it slightly muffled. The man is spewing profanities at him, trying to get on his nerves. “You scared of your toy dying? Is that why you’re here? Or maybe you were scared we’d take your little toy away from you? Do all the things to her you do but worse?”
Footsteps lightly grow closer, likely stopping by the man writhing on the ground, clutching his leg. Something clatters to the side, presumably the revolver he may have been pointing at Childe. When Childe speaks, his voice is laced with venom. “The girl is mine.” The man grunts, and Childe continues. “You have no idea how badly you’ve set me off. You better start praying to whatever you believe in.”
You cringe when you hear Childe kick him, heart beating even faster than before. Nausea tugs at you, making your eyes lose focus as you resist the urge to throw up or fall to your knees. Hands are still pressed to your ears when a body comes to stand behind you, yet it’s when arms wrap around you that you horribly flinch and move to elbow whoever it is, hyperventilating as you struggle to be freed.
However, Childe’s voice whispers in your ear, instantly making you relax. “It’s me.”
You are way too panicked to say anything useful. “Yes. Alright. It’s you. Not anyone else. Okay. Okay.”
One of his hands moves to cover your eyes, and he instructs you to keep them closed as he leads you out. The other hand is on your shoulder, and when you are away from the alley, he uncovers your eyes. Childe leads you to the market, stopping when you both enter its busy environment. He pulls out his phone, presses it to his ear without even dialling or accepting any call and hastily spews out the location of where you were earlier, firmly telling whoever it is on the other side to ‘deal with it’.
Nausea still stirs inside you, making you sick. You can feel the ghost of the muzzle pressing against you, and although you weren’t so horrified by it when it was actually happening, you are now.
Once again, Childe’s attention is back on you. His eyes focus on you solely, forgetting the busy environment around him and forgetting the issue he was addressing on the phone. He looks… concerned. Like a mother hovering over her child, he grabs your face with both hands, turning it side to side and carefully eyeing your features. He then pulls you into a hug, but you are too busy hearing your heartbeat in your ears to reciprocate and simply hide your face in his jacket instead.
“I’m so relieved,” he whispers. “Did he say anything to you? Hurt you? Touch you?”
After a shaky inhale, you focus your gaze on a random light source, willing away the sickness in your stomach. “No. Just a gun to my back. That’s it.”
“I am so sorry.”
Unfortunately, the nausea does not relent. “It’s fine.”
He holds you tighter. “It’s not fine. You were in danger.”
Though his warmth is comforting, you cannot move to hold him back. You can taste bile in your mouth, and you start profusely swallowing, yet Childe continues voicing his regrets. “I should have come with you. I shouldn’t have listened to you-”
Your voice shakes when you interject, the fear of what else might go wrong in public. “Quiet, please. I’ll throw up.” Your request is met with him gently rubbing your back, ignoring any glances from onlookers. When he feels that you are somewhat calm, you are led back to the car, the air conditioning turned on and your seat reclined as you cover your eyes with your forearm.
You don’t know why you feel sick and you don’t know why you keep thinking of a bleeding wound, infected and deep enough to show muscle and sinew. Worst of all, you don’t know what you should do now. Should you just ask to go home? Should you go back in? Get what you came here for?
Maybe you’ll come back later, with Childe. There’s still some time in your friend’s birthday and you can get her something later or make something instead. Yeah. That sounds right.
“Feeling any better?”
Your companion’s question makes you grumble. There are so many things that go wrong these days. Your relationship with him seems to loom over you like a raincloud wherever you go. Always accompanying you like a blight on your existence. It also does not help that information about you had initially come to light because he bought the house you both currently live in a week before you made that deal with him.
You still remember that conversation in great detail. When you had finally got to the airport, what waited for you when you came back haunted you throughout the journey. This arrangement isn’t something you were looking forward to. Remaining a student on a tight budget who eats instant ramen half the time for dinner would have been more preferable.
“Is there any way I can help? Do you need anything?” Childe voices more questions, but this time you don’t feel annoyed at him. If anything, you should be thankful. Sure, that occurred because of him, but he did save you.
Hand reaching to set the seat upright, you mentally go over the words you want to say. Now facing him, Childe gives you a curious look before you speak, the edges of your lips already stuck together. “I’m sorry.” He looks taken aback, but you continue. “I’ll… I’ll listen to you next time. And thank you for saving me. I had already said my prayers and apologised to my parents in my head, so thank you for letting that go to waste. I would rather it not be useful.”
Childe blinks. With a chuckle, he smiles, giving you that typical lovestruck expression he has when you do something he finds endearing. “And I personally wouldn’t know how to break it to your parents. Not after your mom asked me to look out for you.” The reminder leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, yet Childe still has something to say. “Of course. You don’t ever need to thank me. As long as you’re mine, alive and healthy, I don’t need anything else.”
The confession makes your eyes widen, and when you open your mouth to question his words, he cuts you off. “Do you want to get what you came here for or do you want to go home?”
“Home,” you reply immediately.
He nods, a hand reaching over to grab your seat belt. The action makes your heart skip a beat - “out of surprise,” you tell yourself - yet Childe does not mind. He fastens his own seat belt after yours and promptly moves to reverse the car out of the parking lot.
It is halfway through the way that you voice your thoughts, and Childe seems to hesitate.
“We have snacks at home,” he says.
Him and his healthy habits be damned. “You mean fruits. I don’t want fruits.”
“They’re healthy. You need nourishment.”
“What am I? A plant?”
Childe holds in a laugh with an awkward cough, a smile still there. “No, but you are a very dear person. I’ll cut some apples into bunny shapes, and we can eat the oranges I got yesterday. I’ll peel them for you, like always.”
Unfortunately for him, you do not yield, even going as far as to use his name since it usually makes him more submissive. “Ajax, I almost died tonight. I would like to be able to binge eat a bag of chips as I ease my worries.”
He negotiates again, albeit weakly. “Darling, you have a habit of stress eating. I know you can’t help it, but I just want to make sure you’re at least eating things that are good for you.”
“A bag of chips just this once wouldn’t hurt.”
You can see the gears turning in his head, and with a sigh, he concedes. “Fine. But only because you want to and have been eating well without complaints these past few weeks.”
The words seem like a parent pointing out a child on their diet, gentle yet still delivering the message. Despite everything, you would never admit that ever since he started butting into what you eat, your skin doesn’t break out as much and you’re almost always hydrated. He doesn’t need to hear the positive effects his presence has on your life from your own mouth. And he sure as hell doesn’t need to know that his hydration checks throughout the day are the reason why you drink water.
-
Yesterday, Chil- Ajax asked you something you could not say no to.
You keep justifying your acceptance with it being a sort of payback for him saving your life the other day even though you know you’re scared of saying no to him. Or maybe you just wanted to repay his kindness. It’s not like you asked for his kindness, but he is giving it to you. Goodness, the way he looks at you sometimes when you talk is just… if you didn’t know any better, you’d describe it as creepy.
But it isn’t. It isn’t creepy because the amount of genuine love in his eyes is just ridiculous. How can someone look at a person with so much love knowing they don’t reciprocate to that intensity? How can they be okay with that? You know Ajax is absolutely, positively in love with you. There’s no doubt about it.
You know so much about his family, and he’s always finding an excuse to talk to you. He asks you to talk to him because he likes your voice, and he sometimes stays in the room while you talk to your parents because he wants to see you be carefree in conversation.
He always gets you what you want without you knowing. Heck, he even gave you a credit card linked to his account! You don’t use it, but he gave it to you.
Back to the topic. You’re going out for dinner with him tonight as a date. You both leave at 7: 15 pm on the dot, and it is currently 6. You are freaking out currently too because what did you willingly agree to?
You know that bastard has been locked away in his room for over an hour now. You know he was giddy ever since he got home way too early today because of your evening plans. He’s way too obvious. And desperate. He’s also getting desperate.
There haven't been any romantic advancements in your relationship. You’ve just fallen into a casual routine at this point, and you aren’t bothered when he is there on your bed at any time you turn to look at it, even if you left the door closed. He cooks for you most of the time, and sometimes you mend his clothes so that he doesn’t buy new ones while completely ignoring the magical appearance of a shit load of sewing materials after the first time you did it.
It’s all gotten normal at this point. Seeing his credit card in your wallet every single time you open it, having to look at his mask sitting on a side table in the living room, watching him remove the dual pistols strapped to his body when he gets home, and much more. It’s all normal now. You’re used to it.
Yet your nerves are about to burst because you’re going out for dinner with him in an hour.
Honestly, after the dinner where he licked blood off your finger, you haven’t gone out for food with him since. You mostly eat at home, but the most you guys have done is takeout.
Anyway, what do you do? You don’t want to try hard lest unforeseen and unwanted developments occur, yet you also don’t want to not try at all because it might sour his mood. The latter is unpreferable simply because you can’t bear to see him sad. Maybe you’ll put in a little effort. Not too much but a little.
Had Ajax not been in the mafia, you would have already accepted him. You know you’re delaying the inevitable, that he will get what he wants, but you still can’t help it. Your conscience weighs you down. His identity ties you close to hesitance and denial.
Nevertheless, here you are, a cream coloured maxi skirt flowing till your ankles and a dusty pink blouse with bishop sleeves. You can’t believe you actually wore this. Ajax was the one who gifted the blouse to you, saying something like the colour being nice and wanting to see you wear it.
Well. He’ll get his wish now.
After at least five consecutive minutes of staring into the mirror, you finally decide to put on some makeup. Nothing too much. A simple mascara, blush, and lipstick after whatever you ended up putting on your skin first.
Great! Now, shoes. Shoes…
You fish out a pair of nude sandals with a pointed tip and a one inch heel. Perfect. Seems like your mother giving you her old sandals came in handy. After checking if they fit, you take a look at the clock. There’s still twenty minutes till the clock strikes 7.
Twenty minutes of agony as nerves eat you from the inside.
Right at 7:02 pm, there’s a knock on your bedroom door. Shaking hands unlock the door, opening it to nervously meet eyes with your lovely housemate. He stands on the other side, hair parted in the middle as best it could be. One side is tucked behind his ear while the other hangs on his face, framing his jawline perfectly.
You take note of the black dress shirt and black pants. The sleeves are rolled up and his earring is still there. Also, why is his shirt so fitted? You know he’s ripped. He doesn’t have to rub it in.
“You wore the shirt,” he breathes out.
“It’s a blouse,” you correct.
“Beautiful.”
The way his eyes seem to look you over in awe makes your cheeks heat up. With an awkward clear of your throat, you snap his attention back to your face. “Didn’t you say you made a reservation?”
Ajax perks up at that. “Right! We should leave soon.”
You are then left to grab your bag and sandals while he goes to fish out his car keys and wallet. When you’re seated in the living room, trying to fasten the little buckle on the sandals, Ajax is wistfully staring at you from the kitchen, cheek resting in his palm.
“We would make a cute couple.” A sigh and he looks at your feet, silently wishing you’d ask for his help with it instead. “Do you… need help with that?”
To his not so very surprise, you brush him off. “I’m fine.”
“Huh.” He asks again. “Are you sure?”
“Yup.”
He still wishes you would ask for his help instead. Do you not realise that he would do anything you asked him to? He would willingly get on his knees for you, hands gingerly trailing up your legs before he decides to rest one on his shoulder, the other pulling him towards you as his hand travels upwards and-
“Ajax? It’s almost 7: 15.”
He snaps out of his thoughts instantly. You’re standing near the door now, head tilted in that cute way he adores as you curiously look at him. A hand quickly flicks the kitchen light off as he walks towards the door. This is going to be another test of his patience. He knows it. He just hopes you don’t blame him for anything he might end up doing tonight.
-
“I don’t get it.”
Childe looks at you curiously only to find you glaring at the open menu. “I don’t know what to get,” you say. “Can you order for me? Whatever you think is good here. You know the stuff I like and don’t like, so I trust you.”
The explicit trust makes him smile. As per your request, Childe orders for you, but it’s something different than his own so that you can try both things. If you like the food, he might even take you out more often. Eating out once in a while shouldn’t hurt. Not if he’s with you.
As he leans back in his seat, he finds you playing with the buttons on your sleeve. Childe hastily utilises the opportunity to scan the indoors, eyes quickly flitting over every single person present. None have noticed either of you, and none seem to be looking at you. Good.
A quiet ding sounds from your phone, the screen turning on for a few moments. You reach for it instantly, but Childe is quicker, his hand covering the device before you could grab it. You obviously look nervous because of the action, but he gives you a small smile.
“No phone while we’re out eating.” The expression on your face doesn’t change, so he adds in something else. “Please?”
You capitulate instantly, and he pulls the device closer to himself with a playful smile. He now has all your attention for this evening dinner. If Childe plays his cards right, he could monopolise this opportunity and possibly convince you more to actually go out with him. Or let him put a ring on your finger. Whichever you’d prefer.
But first…
“I wish we could’ve stayed home instead,” he sighs.
You raise a brow at his expression, simultaneously wondering why he’s looking at you so wistfully here of all places. “Why? Didn’t you want to go out for dinner? You were looking forward to this.”
“Yes but-” He bites his lip for a moment. He isn’t lying. He’s being completely honest, but it still feels a bit weird to be admitting it directly to you. “But… you look so pretty and I don’t like knowing that other people can see you when you look so beautiful.”
It’s the truth. He doesn’t like knowing that anyone and everyone here has access to your existence. That they can simply turn their head and look at you in that skirt. He doesn’t care if it’s till your ankles. You look absolutely enchanting. Childe hates it that anyone can see your collar bones and your curious expression and the way you’re tilting your head at him and the way you’ve started fidgeting with your sleeve already.
All these lovely things about you are supposed to be for him only.
But they aren’t.
And he hates that.
“Hey. Eyes up here.”
He didn’t realise he started staring at your collar bones. God, he hopes you don’t think he was staring at your chest.
“Now that you’re looking into my eyes,” you groan, “I want you to calm down.” Almost instinctively, Childe crosses his arms out of displeasure, but you are quick to cool him down. “No one is looking at me. Nothing even happened and you’re acting all jealous. Calm down.”
“I’m not acting.”
“Then stop overreacting.”
“I am definitely not overreacting.”
You give him a look, the one you usually give him when you know he is keeping something from you, but you would rather not put the effort into digging it out of him. “Right.”
Childe is quick to defend, to put out the bait in hopes you’ll take it. “Sweetheart, you’re beautiful. Of course I’m going to be pressed if other people look at you and think the same.”
You sigh. “We’re only out for dinner.”
“Yes, but I just… I don’t know.” He traces the handle of the cutlery on the table, all the while ignoring how you’re still fidgeting with your sleeves. He’s making you nervous. He shouldn’t be making you nervous.
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to burden you with my feelings.” Though you look like you want to say something, Childe beats you to it. “I love you, and I hope you know that I mean that word when I say it. I’m not afraid of saying the bigger word. I never will be.”
Both your hands have disappeared under the table. From the looks of it, you’re clenching them. How nervous are you? But wait. If he helps, if he shows you he can take care of you, then you might just…
Childe gently calls out your name, and you look at him with wide, innocent eyes. Poor thing. He asks you to show him your hands, and you comply. What you do not see coming is him gently grabbing the two before bringing them to cup his face. Childe especially presses the cold fingertips to his warm cheeks, effectively warming them up.
He’s thankful for reserving this relatively small table tucked away in a corner. No one can see your widened eyes and the look of adorable surprise on your face. No one.
Upon receiving no explicit refusal from your end, Childe grows bolder. The palms cupping his cheeks are each delivered a gentle kiss, and when there is no rejection, he moves lower, lips trailing to your wrists. This is when he feels the tug, the panic in the withdrawal. Your left wrist is in his mercy, soft lips tenderly pressed against your pulse, yet you tug your arm in retreat like a wounded animal.
Though it pains him, Childe lets go but only after making eye contact with you for a moment.
The face you give him is akin to one of a mixture of surprise and betrayal, and it dawns on him. This is the first time he’s touched you like this. Childe thinks he may have mixed his fantasies with reality because he did not ask for your permission for doing so. Now that he thinks about it, for a moment, he returns to the dreams and thoughts where he touches you as he pleases, and where you ask him to touch you. Where you climb onto his lap at random times of day and tell him how you are only his. How you want nothing to do with the rest of the world because he is your everything.
The only thing he wants is for those fantasies to become reality. Is that too much to ask for? Is it too selfish for him to ask that of someone so beautiful, so… heavenly?
Despite the shock on your face, you do not verbally express your thoughts. The silence is deafening. Your hands are clutched to your chest, and as the noise of the background fades into nothing but a quiet and continuous rumble, Childe’s thoughts start wandering. The first thing he wonders about is where he has to keep his eyes from straying. Your hands and your chest.
He can’t stop feeling the softness of your skin under his calloused palms. How your pulse felt under his lips. How it might taste if it bled. How warm the red might be. How red it might be.
Childe feels dirty for those thoughts, but he doesn’t care. He would gladly embrace such farcicalities if it meant you being the centre of his attention, your entire being on his mind more than his own existence. Then again, you are his life, no? Then why should he stop himself from thinking about you? Is it not wrong for a believer to not think about their worshipped deity? Likewise, it is wrong of him to forcibly shut your existence out of his wandering and lost thoughts.
Besides, the thought of you is where all his unruly and chaotic thoughts come together and finally make sense. So why should he not look at you like you were made from a piece of his ribs, fragile and the closest to his heart than anything can ever be?
“Ajax,” the name tumbles out of your mouth, and Childe feels like he can hear again. “Please stop staring like that. It’s getting creepy.”
An apology is quickly on his tongue, but you are quick to cut his words off before they can be uttered. “You’re acting a little weird.” He notices the worry on your face and the hands under the table. Childe thinks he doesn’t deserve you, but he’s selfish. Horridly so. “Are you feeling okay? We could go home right after eating if you’re not feeling too good, Ajax.”
You’re soothing him. Like how an owner soothes an unruly pet, you’re soothing him. How indulgent of you. Well, as long as you are thinking of him, he doesn’t mind playing like he’s putting the muzzle back on. You were never the one holding the leash anyway.
“I’m fine,” he replies. “Sorry. I just lost myself for a minute there. Were you saying something earlier?”
“Ah. No. Just… I was just asking if you were okay. I wasn’t saying anything earlier. Before that, I mean.”
Though tension has risen and it clearly shows in how your shoulders have stiffened, Childe cannot bring himself to mind. As long as your eyes are on him and him only, and as long as your voice graces his ears with his name, he won’t mind the discomfort in your countenance. It’s only a matter of time before you completely set aside denial.
-
It was halfway through dinner that you confessed telling your parents you’ll be home late tonight. This gave birth to an opportunity, and being the man that he is, Childe grabbed onto it like a desperate man. Questions were hushed and trust was exploited as Childe did what he could, what he wanted to do for so long.
The evening sea breeze never felt so good as it does now.
He stands with his arms resting on the railing, yet it feels different this time. It feels less lonely, more fulfilling, even if you both are in a secluded corner of the pier.
The lights from the opposite end of land reflects onto the water, and the smell of salt is in the air. Wind directly hits his face, hair flying back with it, but he’ll deal with the aftermath of it later. Right now, he’s waiting for you to be done with setting your hair so that he can talk to you.
You take a few more minutes to ensure hair doesn’t blow into your mouth or his face before joining his side, albeit at a distance large enough to fit another person which he promptly shamelessly closes. Yet when he turns to look at you, he is met with a raised brow.
“What?”
You’re quick to voice your observation, Childe’s eyes briefly focusing on the half-faded lipstick as he gives you his full attention. “Your hairline is a little uneven.” The sentence makes him chuckle, but you have more to add. “I didn’t think it’d be like that. It’s cute.”
“You’ve seen my forehead plenty of times.”
“I haven’t.”
He tilts his head. “Whenever I get out of the shower, my hair is slicked back. You’ve seen me get out of the shower.”
“Well,” you scrunch up your nose, “you’re shirtless and with only a towel. Why would I look at you then?”
“...” So all the times Childe has purposely walked by you in the living room or dropped off fruit when you’re studying while being fresh out of the shower was in vain. Why is he even surprised? Of course you wouldn’t look. It was daft of him to even consider that you would look. You avoid him like the plague whenever he tries to make a move. That does beg a question. Why have you been surprisingly cooperative tonight?
Are you planning something?
It can’t be. He keeps an eye on you. You go nowhere except class, occasional outings with friends, and shopping. Childe knows where you are at all times and with who and for what, with being the one taking you there. He even had you join that group project meeting online instead of in-person because it was in the evening and your group mates were all guys.
Considering those factors, there is no way you are planning something. He’s made sure of it. Besides, you are perfectly aware that you cannot try anything. Not only do you live with him, but he’s in the mafia. Were you to be missing or run away, you’d be back home before midnight.
There has to be another reason. Maybe you’ve grown more comfortable with him. Yes. That’s it. Perhaps it’s the delusion accompanying the compunction of all that he has done to you, but he believes you’re slowly laying down your defences. All that’s done is to wait till the wall is broken down too.
“Ajax,” you call, lips parting hypnotizingly, lipstick making them stick to the corners, “you’re staring again.” A pause, then you point something out. “You’ve been staring a lot tonight.”
He smiles, face resting on top of his arms crossed over the railing. “I can’t help it. You’re just so pretty.” You make a weird noise at that, but he chuckles. “I’m honoured to be breathing the same air as you. To be so close to you and see you with my own two eyes. I could never have said I’ve seen the world’s beauty before I saw you sitting behind that cash register in the store.”
You seem clearly taken aback at the sudden words. To be honest, Childe is too. He didn’t expect to say all that together. Still, if it conveys even a fraction of the intensity of his emotions, he’d say more.
A strand of hair falls into his eye when the wind calms, and he tries to blink it away. It’s disturbing his view of you. The way you’re looking at him as you think over your words feeds his proprietorial nature, for your words are all his to hear and your being all his to keep. Childe would keep you even if it means he has to hide you from the rest of the world lest you slip from his grasp.
Yet you are so good to him that he always melts at your unexpected surrenders. The time when you sewed up his shirt when he got a long, narrow cut at his side. The time when you made dinner and left some for him before going to bed when he texted you he’ll be home very late. The time you willingly came to him with your worries and let him console you.
And the way you remove the strand of hair that’s in his eye and allow him to look at you without obstructions.
If he could, he’d merge your beings into one so that no one else could ever have you, and you’d be his forever. He isn’t willing to break you to have you, but he is willing to hurt you just a little bit.
But before all that, he needs to figure out a way to make you all his. If it means putting a ring on your finger or faking your death or hiding you away from the world, he doesn’t care. You have to be all his.
From your body to your soul to your thoughts to your feelings to your touch to your very being. All. His.
“Ajax, you’re staring again.”
He stands up straight at that, one hand still grabbing the railing as he takes a step closer to you. This time, he does not smile. “Why don’t you love me?”
You question his sudden change in demeanour, but he presses further. “Why don’t you love me? What’s wrong? Tell me. I’ll fix it. I’ll fix us. Tell me how I can make you love me.”
Childe moves closer, and you instinctively move back, making him frown, but he soon cages you between the railing and his body. There’s not much space between you both, and you’re certain he would be able to hear your heart beat wildly if he moved just a tad bit closer. Nevermind the fact that your skirt is blowing with the wind and his legs are obstructing its path.
“I’m doing everything I know. Just tell me. All I want is your heart. All I want is you.”
You are quick to defend. “I already live with you. What more is there?”
“You,” he replies, breathless. “You don’t love me. You only live with me.”
“Because agreeing to that is why you let me go back home for the summer,” you remind him. “Well, I suppose either way I would have been here. If I said no, you would’ve taken me there earlier.”
“Do you feel trapped?”
“What do you think?”
Childe chuckles at that. Though he is culpable for this predicament, he also holds the power to change it to his favour. “Tell me then,” he whispers, wind once more blowing in his hair, “what do you want?”
Unfortunately for him, you play his game on equal footing. “Would you grant it?”
“No.” The look in your eyes is something smug, but he humours you anyway. “I can’t guarantee I won’t, but I guess it depends on what you ask me.”
A scoff accompanies your words now, the nervousness apparent in the way you grip the railing behind you for dear life. “You’ve told me numerous times you’d give me anything I want. Why are you so hesitant now?”
“Because I know what you are about to ask, and I’m afraid I can’t give you that.”
“And what am I about to ask?”
“To be able to leave me for good,” he spits out.
You simply shake your head. “No. Not at this moment at least.” Confusion laces his features, but you press your body impossibly closer to the railing. “I wanted to ask for some space. It’s… it’s uncomfortable like this. Please take a step back.”
Childe obliges instantly. Blue eyes watch your once white knuckles have colour return to them, and suddenly he feels a little childish for cornering you like that. A quiet sigh from your end steals his attention, yet he remains standing where he is, another demand on the tip of his tongue.
“Move in with me,” he says. “Move into my room. It’s been too long in the guest room already. You don’t need to stay there anymore.”
Frankly, you’re surprised. You thought he forgot about that by now considering that he never brought it up again.
“You’ve seen it. My room is bigger. I got this place because the master bedroom was big and it’ll easily fit both our things. You can make the guest room your study room if you want, but just move in already.”
He gives you that look again, the demanding one that makes you painfully aware of how dull and lifeless his eyes are. Although you have grown used to it and it doesn’t bother you as much, it still reminds you that if he wished, he could have done worse things to you. But he hasn’t. He waits and waits and waits till he’s about to bubble over. Till his feelings threaten to boil and spill out of the pot and even then he somehow calms it down enough to be coherent. Al because he promised to think about you before his own selfish feelings.
“We can start tomorrow,” Childe suggests, “or even tonight, there’s still time. You’ve been living with me for long enough. It’s time you actually moved in.”
Even while you are quiet, Childe has a million thoughts running through his head. Bed, lonely, empty, cold sheets, cold pillows, empty dressing table, empty nightstand. He recalls the room you’ve turned into your personal haven, the cluttered dressing table, the nightstand with a ton of wires, the eraser dust that’s almost always on the ground near your table, and the warm feeling that envelopes him whenever he enters this little haven of yours.
He needs to have you more or else he doesn’t know what he’d do. And he doesn’t want to know what he’d do to you.
“I hear you,” you speak up, successfully interjecting his thoughts, “but we’re not in a relationship. We can’t just start doing married couple things.” You make a face, scrunching up your nose like you always do. “Living in different rooms is appropriate because we’re still-”
“Marry me then.”
You shut your mouth immediately.
“Your problem is our relationship right?” Childe takes a step closer, eyes focused on yours. “Then marry me. Problem solved.”
“Wait. Ajax, that’s too fast. Calm down.”
“That’s not ‘too fast’. We’ve been living together for almost a year now. We’ve known each other for over a whole year. This isn’t fast.”
Regardless, you try to de-escalate it. De-escalate his rashness. “Okay. I understand. But we’re too young and my parents wouldn’t allow something like this so suddenly-”
“Leave them to me. I’ll handle getting their approval. They seem to like me anyway. That’s all you’re worried about right? And we’re not young. We’re adults.”
The apprehension grows. You do not know how this idea popped into his head, but you blame yourself for mentioning ‘married couple’ earlier. Why is he so obsessed? Is having you in his home constantly under his vision not sufficient?
“So what’s your answer? Or do you want to wait while I get a ring and you speak to your parents?”
The anxiety starts eating you from the inside. You know you can’t escape him. You’re too deep into his clutches to even consider escape, but you still hold onto feeble hope that you can delay the inevitable just a little longer. “Fine. You’re ready and okay for such a thing, but I’m not ready for such a big step.”
Contrary to your expectations, Childe’s mood further sours. “That’s what you always say.” As soon as the words are uttered, Childe remembers thinking to himself how he hoped you won’t blame him for anything he might end up doing tonight. Well. If it allows him to have you, he’d do anything. “The only difference would be that we’d be closer. Nothing else.”
“We’re close enough,” you meekly comment.
“So you don’t want to marry me?”
“No, it’s not that I don’t, but…”
“But?”
You think over the time you’ve lived under his roof. He has been controlling, sure, but he has been more accommodating and understanding. If you were to bet your life on one thing, it would be that Ajax would always unequivocally love and care for you. Besides, this is inevitable. The moment he locked eyes with you at your job, it had been decided that this would happen. That you would be his.
Delaying and denying all this simply makes you miserable. Who are you to deny such affection? Such love that suffocates you, surrounds you constantly with eyes in the shadows watching your every breath. Who are you to deny a man who has countless times told and showed you that he’d drop to his knees for you on a moment’s notice?
He may control your life and future, but you control him as well. Or you do to an extent at least. What his words cannot express, his hands and eyes do, and those things are precisely what have kept you going on the hope that the inevitable is not as horrifying as you delude yourself into thinking of it.
Ajax loves you, and you’d be damned if you refuse his love. Not only is there no way out, but you think you do not want out anymore. You’re too deep in his web.
Besides, you know that if you were to refuse him, he’d try again and again before eventually forcing it upon you. It’s better to accept. You can’t delay the inevitable.
Warm hands cup your face, thumbs rubbing the corners of your eyes. “Don’t cry,” he whispers, and you blink away tears you did not know you were shedding.
Minutes pass on the secluded corner of the pier, and when he is satisfied with how much you have calmed down, he lets you go. Hands hang by his sides as he waits for an answer, but you don’t keep him waiting. With a gentle pat to his cheek, you give him your answer.
“I’ll start moving my things in the morning.”
His celebratory smile only grows when you continue speaking.
“And… I’ll start talking to my parents. I’ll let you know the updates.”
-
You were in the middle of organising your things when the realisation dawned on you. You’re moving into his room. All of your things will go there. All of your things. Does this mean you both are officially in a relationship? That means he’s going to wake up next to you, go to sleep next to you, and you’re going to share a wardrobe with him. Even a bathroom.
This might just make his possessive nature worse. But it’s alright. You can talk sense into him. He usually does listen to you.
Nevertheless, you can’t help but wonder… Why are you accepting of this? Somehow the idea of being so close doesn’t bother you as much as you think it should. Do you really like him that way? Are you in denial?
Ajax’s voice calls out to you, asking if you need any help. You’re currently in the middle of going through your clothes, and you would rather he not bear witness to seeing your undergarments and clothes thrown haphazardly across the bed. Thus, you tell him no and continue organising, putting home clothes separate and classifying the rest accordingly.
When those are done, you let the piles be on the bed and move to your dressing table. Expired and empty containers are chucked into the bin, and you grab the rest and move outside, passing by a curious Ajax in the living room and making yourself home in his room. The bottles are carefully placed amongst his things, and soon the dressing table looks cluttered.
Well, to be used is to be messy. It’s okay.
You return to the piles of clothes and transport each pile one by one onto his bed. When all have been gathered, you place them in the space he’s apparently kept empty for you ever since he moved here in an orderly fashion, making sure all your undergarments are in the locked drawer instead of the regular one. There are no fingers or accusations pointed, but there is also no complete trust in this matter.
Ajax trails behind you this time, curiously watching you take your toiletries and place them in his bathroom. He eyes the addition of a new shampoo and conditioner and other bottles he doesn’t care to classify but is happy to simply see them there. You make the journey back to your ex-room and gather all your chargers and wires only to find yourself untangling them first.
“Do you need help?”
You’re quick to refuse, but he still stands there watching. Gathering them all in your hands, Ajax is tempted to offer his help again but closes his mouth when he remembers you telling him to “not butt in” while you move your things. So, he watches you and trails behind you. He follows you around and watches you as you bump into the sofa’s edge when he calls your name and stumble forward only to lose your footing and fall straight onto the floor.
It did not help that your arm had slid against the edge of the centre table and you horribly skinned the back of your arm.
Ajax stands there, horrified for a moment, before he ignores the cluttered mess of chargers and wires and crouches down beside you, immediately checking your injuries and helping you sit up. But it does not help him when he sees blood slowly starting to ooze from the mess of broken skin and you wince when he gently grabs your hand to look at the wound.
Regardless, he cups your face with the other hand while simultaneously looking you over for other injuries. When you assure him and his repeated questions that it’s just your arm, he relaxes a bit. However, he cannot help it. There’s more blood now, not a lot but enough to completely cover the broken skin, and if he leaves it be, it might start trickling down your arm before the wounds close.
So, Ajax does what his mind wants him to do. He kisses the skin near the wound at first, completely ignoring your questioning look, and slowly moves towards the injury. Soft lips glide over the skin, inching closer towards the desired target. Then, when he can feel your gentle tugs to be let free, he tightens his grip and licks.
Ajax licks some of the blood, the texture of broken skin welcomed by his tongue. You sit there horrified and extremely confused while he licks it again before freezing and letting go.
Awkward eye contact ensues, and your face clearly shows how utterly puzzled and alarmed you are. Nevermind the fact that those were wet licks and your arm has his saliva on it and the broken skin he lapped up is on his tongue which he is sneakily trying to swallow.
Minutes pass, and you finally gather the composure to speak. “Ajax. What the fuck?”
He is quick to be defensive, knowing full well you’ve been so good to him these days and he can’t afford to scare you off. “I just… I let my intrusive thoughts win. Sorry.”
Your terror only grows. “I don’t even want to know what your intrusive thoughts are anymore. Well. At least your licking distracted me from the pain. It doesn’t hurt anymore with your spit on it. Gross. Wash your mouth after this.”
Somehow, a smile stretches on his face. “Wash my mouth? After getting to have a piece of you? Sweetheart, a little bit of you is in me. Why would I ever not want that?” You open your mouth to interject but are cut off. “If I could, I’d make us become one. That way, I don’t have to worry about you thinking of anything else except me.”
You’re quite… speechless. Did he really just indirectly admit he wants to eat you? What the hell??
“Speaking of which,” Ajax whispers, “forgive me but another intrusive thought won.” With that, he moves closer. Close enough in your face to have your noses brushing. To his surprise, you do not create distance, allowing him to fan his breath over your lips as he slowly turns his head.
The only thing stopping his lips from kissing yours directly is his hand on your lips.
When he pulls away, Ajax’s blue eyes meet your widened ones, your face flushed and clearly flustered. Unfortunately for you, a grin is on his face. “I’ll kiss you for real when you say yes to the ring. Then, I'll make your body mine too.”
With that, he gets up and grabs the first aid box while you sit with his spit drying on your arm. You are sometimes genuinely terrified of him. This is one of those times.
-
“Don’t lick me ever again.”
Ajax frowns at that. “If you forbid me, then how am I supposed to go dow-”
“Stop! That’s enough!” You successfully shut him up, and he continues disinfecting your injury in silence. “Do not spew such mindless words ever again.”
Unfortunately, he catches onto your words, smiling mischievously. “I’ll do it if you do one thing.” When asked for his conditions, Ajax shamelessly gives his request. “Tell me you’re mine. That I’m the person you want.”
When you show hesitation, he is quick to remind you that you’ve agreed to completely move in with him and agreed to sleeping with him. Thus, you acquiesce.
“I’m… Ugh, I can’t believe I’m saying this.” He chuckles, but you continue humouring him. “I’m yours, Ajax.”
He pushes further. “And?”
Your cheeks heat up, and you meekly let out the second part. “And… you’re the person I want.”
As soon as the desired words leave your mouth, Ajax is soothed. Soon, he’s disinfected the mess of broken skin and tied a bandage around your arm for the time being so that you don’t accidentally hurt yourself again. When asked about his payment, you simply pat his cheek like you do, but decide to scratch the skin behind his ear before travelling upwards into his hair.
With a last pat to his head, you leave him a blushing mess with messy hair as you return to the wires scattered on the ground, picking them up before continuing what you were doing. It doesn’t serve him right that you casually rendered him paralysed and just got up and left. But then again, that is the least you should do against him after what he has done to you.
Flustering someone does not compare to putting them in a fancy cage. Well, Ajax’s deceit makes it hurt more. If you knew the full extent of his desires, you would never let him breathe the same air as you. But you do not. And that is precisely why he plans to slowly let them surface, to allow you time to accept him. He just hopes he doesn’t grow impatient with how good you’ve been.
(Bonus scene)
“What do you mean you want a pillow wall between us?”
You don’t mind Ajax’s childish whines, instead busying yourself with moisturising your face. But when he moves to remove a pillow, you are quick to turn and give him a glare. “I agreed to sleeping next to you and moving into your room. The least you can do is give me time to settle in and let me have a damn pillow wall.”
Ajax slowly puts the pillow back down quietly, and you turn around to close the moisturiser bottle. Though you catch a glimpse of him glaring daggers into the pillow wall, you continue cleaning the clutter of your things on the dressing table.
You’ll take it away in a few days. Let him suffer for a few nights.
#childe x reader#yandere childe x reader#tartaglia x reader#yandere tartaglia x reader#yandere childe#yandere tartaglia#yandere genshin impact x reader#yandere genshin impact#genshin impact x reader
156 notes
·
View notes
Text
Blood of the Hero Ch 14 (Link's Parents Play BotW)
Summary: The Soul of the Hero will always be there to save Hyrule. But when Calamity Ganon is nearly victorious in killing him, it's those that bear the Blood of the Hero who will prevail. Ten years after the Great Calamity, the Shrine of Resurrection is damaged and Link's parents fight to save their son and Hyrule along with him.
(AO3 link)
Ch 14: Fallen Knight - Carnage
Abel hadn’t slept. The night crawled agonizingly along, leaving the former knight tossing and turning. Tilieth rested peacefully in the grass beside him, the tattered, half rotted wooden stall protected them from the mild drizzle. He stared between wood planks, eyes tracing the etches of jagged edges, noticing scorch marks from when the place burned.
When it was destroyed. In the Calamity.
It was stupid, really, how much it was sinking in lately. It wasn’t like Abel hadn’t been a firsthand witness to it. But lately… everything seemed to be wrong, and it drilled into his head. Perhaps it was the thought of separating from Tilieth, the idea that once they reached the Gerudo Desert he would continue on without his family in search of solutions. The anxiety and dread of it made him sick to his stomach.
You had promised, all those years ago, to protect your family. You swore in your knighting that you would protect Hyrule.
Yet here he was, lying in dirt, shivering in the chilly night, protected by the bones of what used to be one of the most vibrant stables in the country. Here he was, with his wife starving and shivering beside him, broken and terrified and alone. Here he was, his daughter dead, his son near to it, the latter’s state being entirely his fault.
He’d separated from the boy. He’d told him to take the princess to Fort Hateno. He’d promised to be there.
He’d been unable to protect the king. Link was the only one who managed to keep the princess safe when Abel was unable to do so.
His daughter was dead.
Abel’s entire life was flashing before his eyes. His mother died of grief over the loss of his father (why wasn’t I good enough? Why weren’t my sisters and I good enough for her to stay?). His younger sister never listened to him, had said he wasn’t their father, had accused him of pretending to know more than he did (she was right). His twin sister had settled in Castle Town, had been there when it had burned (I never even looked for a body, did I? Goddess, I didn’t even look for a body—) He had been given the highest honor by becoming a knight in the royal guard, had served as the captain, a trusted protector of the king and yet he’d been unable to do his duty (the ceiling had collapsed, I tried to protect him, I tried!). He’d sworn to take care of his family, to be there as a father, and—
Abel sat up, filled with energy, chest aching, blood racing. He stood, walking to the river, wanting to run, to fight something, to scream.
He stared up at the sky, breaths rapid and shallow, and asked, Farore, why did you make me? Why did you make me??
What was he even here for, if not to repeatedly screw everything up?! Even when Link had been given a fighting chance, Abel’s stupidity had ruined it - if it hadn’t been for him disturbing that hinox, this wouldn’t even be an issue! Link would still be safe in the Shrine of Resurrection, and—
Why did you make me?! What was the purpose?! I do nothing but cause problems, I can’t get it right, I can never get it right!
It was sacrilegious to even contemplate what thought came next, but Abel already knew he was a worthless, faithless fool anyway.
You made a mistake when you made me.
The drizzle continued to fall, slowly soaking him to his core. It was a splash of reality as he shivered and fell to his knees, a cold consolation in an empty world.
Wallowing in self pity won’t help them, he reminded himself. Slowly, he dragged himself back to the stall, trying to push the intrusive thoughts out, trying to ignore the berating. He was so damn tired.
The next day brought a heavy rainfall, and though the couple would have preferred to wait it out, anxieties drove them both forward. They didn’t dare bathe in the river – it was far too close to Central Hyrule for either of their liking. Instead, they barely ate breakfast, woke Link to drink some broth, and hastily made their way back to Kakariko.
As they passed through the half-barren marsh, the tower for Lanayru teased them with its proximity. Tilieth glanced at Abel with a shrug. “It’s practically on the way. We might as well activate it; maybe it could give us some helpful information.”
Abel doubted that was the case, but he didn’t argue; he himself had suggested going to the tower as a distraction yesterday. The pair cantered across the marsh, signs of life catching Abel’s eye as they went along. The marsh was slowly coming back, the rain bringing life as puddles formed amidst the mud and debris. Pieces of guardians were slowly washed away, and much more had probably already been removed over the last decade. He tried to take comfort in that.
When the pair reached the beach, Abel saw that the tower was on the other side, which was mildly problematic. This was becoming more involved than he wished it to be, but they were too far invested in it to turn back now.
Tilieth offered to cross, but Abel didn’t trust that the other side would be safe. He’d already surveyed the beach they were on and didn’t see any threats, so he asked her to stay behind instead, taking the slate and utilizing its runes to get across with little effort on his part. Meanwhile, Tilieth bathed herself and Link.
Abel hadn’t expected to find a person on the other side of the beach.
They both stood there in the sand for a moment, frozen in time. Abel felt his body stiffen, electricity firing through his muscles. The Hylian looked equally on edge, skin and bones, dark circles under his eyes, clothes ill fitting and half rotted off him. He jerked his body, reaching for something in an instant.
Abel grabbed his bow and arrow and shot true.
The Hylian grunted as the arrow sank into his chest, his sword that had been half drawn collapsing into the sand beside him. Abel remained motionless for a moment, his mind catching up to what his body had just done. The Hylian let out a gurgling breath and then grew still.
Abel released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, and slowly lowered his arms.
The world was silent, save for water lapping on the shore. Abel couldn’t hear it. He couldn’t hear anything.
Swallowing, the former knight hesitantly walked towards the fallen Hylian. When he saw lifeless eyes staring off at nothing, he finally put his bow away.
The world came crashing back down on him an instant.
You just killed a man.
Well, he was clearly going to attack first!
You’re a knight. Your job is to defend the people of Hyrule. And you just killed one.
This wasn’t the first time he’d killed someone. It was ridiculous to let it bother him. Besides, he wasn’t a knight anymore.
At least check him for supplies.
Abel recoiled at the thought. He wasn’t going to defile the dead like that. He refused.
Taking a shaky step away, he started to head towards the Sheikah tower as if nothing had happened.
A gasp sounded, and Abel whirled, reaching for his bow and arrows yet again. He readied himself, but caught sight of a woman, a young Zora female who was watching him in horror.
“P-please!” She hastily said as she raised her hands. “I’m not even a warrior, I don’t mean any harm! I—I just came down here to find some fish, I—I promise I’m n-not a threat!”
Abel took in the sight of the Zora, memories flooding his mind of his time he’d spent in the Domain with Link. He recalled their princess, and his chest ached at the loss. The girl had been sweet and a strong warrior. She had also been the best healer in the kingdom.
Nevertheless, he didn’t lower his bow.
“P-please,” the Zora begged, beginning to cry. “I—you c-can even have my catch of the m-morning. I b-bet you’re hungry, right? You look it. Just—just please don’t hurt me.”
Abel’s gaze flicked across the river. He could vaguely see Tilieth and Link from here. If the Zora turned around and caught sight of them…
Abel. Stop. She even said she wasn’t a fighter.
Abel took another shaky breath, the adrenaline still fresh from his previous kill, paranoia heightened by the threat, blood rushing through his ears, deafening him to the rest of the world, silencing the woman’s whimpers. What difference did that make? The world had ended. Everyone was a fighter now.
“I-I’m—I’m just g-gonna put the fish down now, okay?” The Zora said shakily, hiccuping through her words, hands still held in the air. She carefully moved to reach for a net she’d been carrying, easing it to the ground.
Abel took a threatening step closer, arrow still fixed on her head, but he didn’t release it. The Zora practically scampered into the water, hands held high again as she told him over and over she wasn’t a threat, that she wasn’t going to hurt him. When she was half submerged into the water, he narrowed his eyes, motioning upstream with his head. The woman caught his meaning and quickly fled.
As he lowered his bow, Abel grew dizzy. He stumbled forward, picking up the net of fish, and slung it over his shoulder. The balance and the way the world spun made him nearly collapse into the sand, his stomach churning. He blinked once, twice, thrice to clear his head, shaking it so he could actually hear the world again, but it was still just his heart pounding.
A chirp caught his attention next, nearly making him draw his sword, when he realized it was the slate.
A shrine was nearby?
Focusing, Abel shook his head one last time, following the slate’s guidance until he neared the entrance to the Zora trail that led to the Domain. It was blocked by fallen rocks, a piece of half decayed guardian machinery squashed underneath. The shrine was just off to the left, uphill a ways.
How could he possibly bring Link over here after what had just happened? He needed to get back, to check on Tilieth! He’d just wandered off, they were out of sight now!
But the tower was right there too. He could see everything from the tower, including threats.
The area was clearly too dangerous, though. But he’d ensured there were no monsters on the other side before leaving his family.
But the threats over here hadn’t been monsters. What if there were Zora near his family?
Abel took another shaky breath, rushing back to the beach. He could still see Tilieth, who waved cheerily at him, clearly having completely missed everything that had transpired. She looked to be dressed now, sitting on the shore with Link.
Abel heard the water lapping. He heard the flapping of bird wings, the trickle as the rain settled into a lazy sprinkling. The world came back, and he tried to take a full breath.
The tower. Just get to the tower.
Thankfully it wasn’t hard to actually reach the tower. He had to rush across the bridge and scale the cliffside, but there were very few monsters around. He picked off a few lizalfos, a moblin, and a handful of bokoblins before reaching the top.
From the top of the tower, once activated, Abel could see a good portion of the region. Zora’s Domain was just beyond his range of vision, hidden in sparkling mountains laden with luminous stones. He remembered the festivals, the nights where those cliffs would practically glow. He remembered the giggles of children as Link played with his friends.
Looking away, Abel pushed at his pant legs, which had ridden up a little since they’d shortened in length from fraying over the years, and tucked them back into his boots. He squinted at the river, catching sight of Tilieth and Link, who were still relaxing on the beach. He couldn’t see any other shrines aside from the one he’d found. He wasn’t sure if that should make him feel better or worse.
Sighing, Abel grabbed the paraglider, took a deep breath, and jumped. He wondered, for the instant before his feet left the tower, if he was beginning to overcome his fear of heights. As soon as the sensation of weightlessness hit, as soon as he was in the air, he felt the bottom drop out of his stomach as an unpleasant reminder that was not, in fact, the case. The adrenaline still lingering in his system, paired with the vertigo he felt at gliding through the air this high up, nearly made him let go of the paraglider entirely. Abel squeezed his eyes closed for a moment, and then shifted his weight, tilting the glider to aim for the beach across the water. Dully, he grumbled internally that he hadn’t always been this afraid of heights, and that it was a terrible time for it to manifest so badly.
Despite not wanting to look down, Abel managed to make it across the river, but his knees gave out the instant his feet touched the sand, and he face planted. He heard Tilieth call out to him and rush over, and he slowly pushed himself up, spitting out sand.
“Are you okay?” his wife asked, dropping down beside him.
Abel swallowed, not entirely capable of speaking, and nodded with a grunt. He sat on his legs for a moment, catching his breath, and then managed to say hoarsely, “There’s a shrine over there.”
“Oh! Really? Let me see.” Tilieth reached forward, taking the slate off Abel’s hip and glancing at it. The new information provided by the tower allowed her to survey the area, and she quickly found the shrine that was marked on it. “Oh, that’s not far at all! We can cross right here—”
“No,” Abel interrupted, remembering the body. He probably should have done something with it. Buried it? He should bury it, right? Show respect for the dead?
They didn’t have time for that.
“We’ll cross further upstream,” he finally muttered.
“Upstream…” Tilieth repeated as she peered at the map before gasping. “We’re close to the Zora!”
Abel spat out some more sand, rubbing his face. “Yes. And?”
“Sheik had said something about the Zora being hostile,” Tilieth said uncertainly, lowering the slate. “Why, though? They were allies to Hyrule. And… after all the effort you and that delegation put in…and the… the princess…”
Hostile? That woman he’d encountered hadn’t been. But what if she’d told her people, and they were coming here now?
After all the effort you and that delegation put in…
Abel bit back the bitterness of yet another failure, the pain and loss of the sweet princess who had been such dear friends with his son.
The point was that apparently the Zora were enemies now.
“We need to move quickly,” he surmised, finally standing and heading towards Link. “Start working on the pillars, please.”
Tilieth nodded, walking towards the water. The family made their way across as quickly as was feasible before Abel directed them towards the shrine.
However, once they entered, they did not receive the usual greeting.
“In the name of the Goddess Hylia, I offer this combat trial.”
“A combat trial?” Tilieth repeated worriedly.
Abel smiled, remembering the tutorial trial in Kakariko. Honestly, he was a little eager to get some energy out. He carefully lowered Link to the ground and headed into the large room. He figured he would test out the guardian weapon he’d taken from the last combat trial, alongside the Sheikah shield.
The tiny guardian was surprisingly easy to defeat. It telegraphed its moves so easily it was almost laughable. Abel was again, bitterly, reminded that these things had be designed to aid the people of Hyrule and its Hero. This little machine was here to train Link.
Instead, his boy was covered in wounds from its larger counterparts, near comatose and helpless.
Abel shook his head, finishing off the little guardian and trying to focus. He’d been far too morose lately. He had a mission to complete.
Goddess, he’d kill for some sleep, though.
The expression hitched in his mind, and he shook his head again. He turned and waved to Tilieth, signaling the all clear, before belatedly remembering he should go back to carry Link. Til, however, tried to carry the boy herself, dragging her feet into the arena while huffing and puffing a little.
Abel took pity on his wife, heart warmed at her attempt, and walked over to her. “Let me carry him, love.”
“No, I’ve got this,” Tilieth argued through a strained voice. “I have to be able to do this.”
I have to be able to do this if you’re going to leave me, was the unspoken sentiment. Abel felt his stomach crawl. He followed his wife silently, worries eating him alive. The couple retrieved a knight’s bow (how long had this been down here? Why was it designed similarly to their bows from ten years ago? Wasn’t this shrine ancient? Who else had accessed it, anyway? Why were there so many modern trinkets hidden down here?) and Link received the spirit orb, and they were transported outside.
Naturally, it was pouring. Abel shivered and quickly took Link in his arms to give Tilieth a break. He noticed the boy had little braids in his hair now, along the sides, before it was pulled back into the usual ponytail he wore. He supposed Tilieth had been enjoying herself on the beach. Link scrunched his face against the rain, clearly uncomfortable with the cold, and Abel looked around quickly to ascertain if it was wise to use the shrine for shelter until the rain let up.
Tilieth took the opportunity to look at the map. “I guess the best way to get to the desert would be going back through Kakariko? We could get one last respite in before the journey begins.”
Technically, the best path would be taking the road to the Riverside Stable, but that required going into Central Hyrule, which was out of the question. Not to mention the bridge leading there from the Wetlands Stable was destroyed, anyway.
No, Tilieth was right. The surest path was back through Kakariko.
“Let’s go,” he said quietly, carefully sliding down slick stone with Link in his arms. He didn’t want to linger.
When they reached the water, Tilieth hastened forward, grabbing Abel by the arm and shushing him. Abel looked at her, alarmed, wondering what she’d seen, watching as she crept forward. When he followed her line of sight, though, he saw some ducks waddling ahead on the shore.
“Really?” he whispered. “Right now? We’re about to go back into town, we don’t need to hunt.”
“Oh, I’m not hunting them, I just want to watch them,” Tilieth said lightly, a sweet smile pulling at her lips.
Abel bit back an exasperated reply. He’d already snapped at her yesterday. He wasn’t going to do it again. But they needed to move. He kept his mouth shut, watching his wife creep forward before talking briefly to the ducks, who quacked in response, eliciting giggles from Til. He tried to enjoy watching it. He really did.
“Til,” he finally said, unable to bear it any longer. “Link’s going to get cold.”
This snapped her out of her distraction, and Tilieth apologized worriedly as she started to create ice pillars. Abel let her place the harness on him before he positioned Link and strapped him in. The couple slid across the river, occasionally nearly toppling over with as slippery as it was, but they managed to make it to the beach and their horses. Abel thought they were finally in the clear when something else seemed to catch Tilieth’s eye (after she’d already snagged some dragonflies), and she pulled Epona in circles. Abel let Ama slow to a halt, watching his wife aimlessly ride in a dizzying pattern. At least the rain had stopped, but…
“What are you doing?” he asked, bewildered.
“There’s—there’s this—oh, I almost had it!” Tilieth huffed, pushing Epona to move faster and reaching down until she was halfway off the saddle. His wife was a good rider, so he wasn’t particularly concerned, but her behavior still made no sense. Link sneezed, distracting Abel, who tried to remember if they’d fed the boy or not (they did, right? They had to, right?), and he jostled the teenager and coaxed him to drink some broth while Tilieth still rode in a circle.
“Til—”
“I know, I’ll be quick!”
“Til, this is ridiculous, what are you even doing?”
“There’s a light!”
“There’s literally nothing.”
Til huffed, jumping off Epona entirely, making Abel tense up, and she pounced on something. “Got you!”
Abel stared as his wife, breathless, laughed giddily and reached out her hand and said thank you and then rose, looking triumphant.
Scrunching his nose, he surmised, “This is another one of those koroks, isn’t it?”
Tilieth nodded, cheeks flushed with cheer. Abel had to smile at her in reply, even though he felt that familiar helplessness. Not that he cared about collecting seeds, but it seemed in this avenue he was fairly useless. What if these magical creatures could help them somehow, and he was making himself a liability by not being able to see them? Why could Tilieth see them?
Sighing, Abel nudged Ama with his legs. “All finished?”
“Yes,” Tilieth said, satisfied, as she climbed back into Epona’s saddle. “Let’s get to the village. We should be able to get there by midafternoon, right?”
“Correct.”
At least, that would have been the plan, except Tilieth wanted to pick some herbs, and the slate started chirping that another shrine was nearby, leading them to a little sandbar with a shrine innocently sitting at its center. Abel stared, bemused, wondering if they’d somehow missed this one, as they had to have passed it, right?
No matter. Another shrine was another shrine. At least this one was close to the village.
“Ah, the soil is so fertile here,” Tilieth noted, and Abel had to agree as he nearly sank ankle deep into the earth. A few chus led to enough damage to the guardian blade that the ancient relic shattered, and Abel irritably switched weapons, grumbling about faulty Sheikah tech as he did so.
The shrine was fairly straightforward, leaping across driftwood to make it to the other side. The final part involved destroying bomb barrels at the right time to eliminate a wall (Abel did have to wonder at the efficacy of such a thing as the bombs were floating in the water, but he supposed they would find out). Tilieth found great pleasure in retrieving every treasure chest she could find, though, according to her, none could beat the one that contained the headband Abel wore.
“It’s too bad there aren’t more clothes,” she commented as Abel aimed at the barrels with a fire arrow. “Or at least materials to make some. Your clothes are a little tattered.”
Abel paused, glancing down at his attire. He wore what his wife had managed to patch together from fabric and clothes they’d found on the plateau, fashioning a warm doublet. The trousers he wore used to nearly fit him perfectly, but time and use had made them threadbare, riding up to nearly midway up his calf. His wife, on the other hand, wore an oversized green tunic that was practically a dress that went to her knees with a white undershirt, and the trousers she wore were made from the tattered remains of her dress she’d been wearing the day of the Calamity. Honestly, they both could use some new clothes, Abel supposed. He was at least grateful Tilieth had made some for Link. The boy was warmer and more protected in the Hylian tunic she’d fashioned. If only they could get the boy some shoes…
Tilieth built ice columns for them to stand on so Abel could aim better, but after three tries of missing lifting the barrels out of the water at the right time, his wife was clearly growing frustrated.
“Here,” Abel suggested gently, holding out his hand. “You’re a decent shot. I’ll make the column, you fire the arrow.”
Tilieth bit her lip uncertainly and then nodded. When Abel successfully timed the ice column, leaving the bomb barrel innocently waiting at its peak, Tilieth fired true with a fire arrow.
Link flinched at the ensuing explosion, sniffling, blinking his eyes open, but he settled back to sleep quickly.
“How did you get it?” Tilieth asked, obviously a little annoyed.
Abel smiled. “Because I’m more patient than you.”
His wife rolled her eyes exasperatedly, and the pair acquired the spirit orb. As they exited, Abel saw a familiar sight – the Riverside Stable, its framework splintering up towards the sky. That was definitely the stable he’d seen on their way to the Dueling Peaks. They’d… gotten a little off track with this other shrine.
“Which way back to Kakariko?” Tilieth questioned a little confusedly before gasping. “Abel, there’s another shrine over there!”
Abel glanced up at the sky. The sun was still high. They had time. “Let’s go.”
Surprisingly, Eagus Bridge was somehow still intact, though most of the protective siding was gone. But Abel realized something, almost too late, horribly, and he immediately blocked Tilieth’s path as they neared the next bridge.
“What?” Tilieth asked.
“This leads to Central Hyrule. The Riverside Stable is in Central Hyrule.” Abel emphasized. “We’re not going there.”
Tilieth looked torn, but also very clearly petrified.
Abel motioned with his head. “We need to get to the village.”
He was not risking his family for this. He would come later, without them, to ensure it was safe. Not that he was going to tell Tilieth that.
The smell of smoke scorched his nostrils, burned his lungs—
Abel shook his head, ridding himself of the memory, the sensation. He guided Epona and Ama ahead, holding Link more tightly.
The couple moved in silence, interrupted only by the rhythmic clomping of their steeds’ hooves. Thankfully it was an uneventful trek back to Kakariko. Their arrival caught everyone's attention, and Lady Impa moved towards them quickly.
“Any luck with the shrines?” she asked. “Is everything okay?”
“It’s fine,” Tilieth assured her with a smile. “We just need to pass through again to head for the—”
“Next destination,” Abel interrupted. He… didn’t want anyone to know where they were going. Not even the princess’ royal advisor. “We’ll stay here tonight. If that’s fine with you.”
“Of course,” Lady Impa acknowledged, her tone implying that it was obvious. Abel felt a little guilty at it, at her hesitancy and uncertainty as she looked at him. He’d never interacted with the woman much in the past, but a little voice in his mind did whisper that they were all on the same side. It sounded annoyingly like Tilieth.
Abel gently lowered Link from Ama, letting Tilieth take him and hobble over to a nearby cooking pot. He glanced towards the mountain pass once more.
He’d wait until nightfall to explore. The less fuss, the better.
Tilieth’s off-tune humming filled the air, making the former knight smile. His wife rocked back and forth where she sat, taking Link with her as he was settled on her lap. Abel took comfort in the gentle, warm cheer, watching as Tilieth started to chat aimlessly with the Sheikah chief.
“Where’s Sheik?” Tilieth asked. “I saw nearly everyone else. Oh, and how’s the little one and her mother? Mellie and Jummo, right?”
“They’re both doing great,” Lady Impa answered happily. “The plum trees we planted seem to be surviving too. This rain is certainly helping. As for Sheik, she left around the same time you two did.”
“Where did she go?”
“She’s… on a pilgrimage. She’s visiting all the sacred springs that Princess Zelda visited.”
Abel tuned out the rest of the conversation, simply watching Tilieth and Link. He sat on the stairs to the inn, leaning against a crate and feeling himself nod off. He supposed not sleeping was catching up to him. He shook his head to try and stay awake – he had to investigate Central Hyrule tonight, after all.
“Honey? You okay?”
Abel blinked again, and—when had the sun set so much? When had Tilieth moved to stand in front of him?
“Oh, Abel,” Tilieth said softly, placing a hand on his cheek. He reached up, letting his hand rest over hers to reassure her, eyes searching for Link as he confusedly tried to piece together what had just happened. “Honey, why don’t you get some sleep?”
Sleep? No, not yet. He’d just slept a little anyway, right? Time had passed.
“’m alright,” he slurred, not sounding convincing in the slightest. Damn it.
Tilieth’s eyes grew glassy with worry and unshed tears, and Abel felt even worse for it. Damn it.
Reaching forward, he pulled her close, letting her sit on his lap a moment as they held each other, and he kissed her just under her eyes, catching the tears as they fell. “I’m okay, love. I promise.”
Tilieth trembled in his arms, sniffling. “Abel, I just… it’s okay. Please, just rest. I’m worried about you.”
“Don’t worry,” he whispered, holding her more tightly, willing all of his love and assurance into it. Please don’t worry. She had enough to worry about. He’d caused his wife enough problems lately. “I promise I’ll sleep later tonight, okay? I just… want to pray at the statue before bed.”
Tilieth perked up, and her expression was hard to read. His wife was naturally far more trusting than him, so he hoped the lie would work (and oh how he despised having to lie to her, but she’d never let him go if he said what he was planning on doing). However, Tilieth was not a fool – she knew Abel didn’t really pray anymore. Perhaps, once in a while, in the middle of the night, in desperation or loneliness, Abel would wander to the Temple of Time before this new journey had begun, but it had been rare.
It was hard to believe in the love of goddesses who would allow this to happen, after all.
His wife watched him silently, her brown eyes piercing into him in a way that reminded him of Link, searching for answers unspoken. Abel broke the spell, though, by leaning in and kissing her on the forehead, brushing curls away from her face.
That night, he ate in silence. He didn’t dare speak, he didn’t dare try to reassure her any more, he didn’t wish to lie any further. Tilieth seemed to gain some of her earlier cheer back as she woke Link to feed him, as she cleaned him and tucked him in. Abel watched the pair, heart heavy, wondering if this was a mistake.
What if… what if he failed again? What if he got himself killed out there, in that goddess forsaken land? What if there were guardians out there as there had been ten years ago?
What would he find? What if he didn’t return?
What would happen to his family?
You’re being paranoid. There was no way Central Hyrule was that dangerous, or Lady Impa would have warned them about it. Right? Besides, Blatchery Plain was riddled with guardians and they were all harmless. So it had to be fine. Right?
Right?
There was a shrine there, though. He had to try.
For Link.
Abel watched Tilieth settle into the bed beside Link, leaving space for him to join her. He went outside, heading for the goddess statue.
Hylia smiled serenely at him. Abel stared darkly back.
He didn’t pray. He couldn’t. Even if he recognized the gift that Epona was, the miracle that Link was actually improving, he couldn’t pray. How could he, after what he’d done today?
How could he, after all his failures? He blamed Hylia for the destruction of Hyrule, but he hadn’t done any better to protect it.
He’d killed a man today.
Could he have avoided it?
It didn’t matter. Whether he could’ve avoided it or not, it didn’t matter. That person would never be a threat again.
But what if he was just scared? What if you could’ve talked him down, as you had with those siblings at Proxim Bridge?
Am I a murderer?
He supposed he didn’t deserve to pray. He wasn’t a knight; he wasn’t even a good man anymore. He was just a survivor. And he would do anything to protect his family.
Besides, that Hylian had clearly been starving. He’d likely been desperate and would’ve been willing to do anything too. He’d been a threat.
Abel still didn’t think he was a good man anymore, though. He wasn’t sure he’d been one since the Calamity.
He didn’t need to be a good man. Just a good fighter.
Hylia smiled serenely at him. Abel turned away.
He paused as he passed the inn. Almost went inside to see his wife and his son. But then he kept going. He didn’t want to risk catching Tilieth’s attention. Quietly, he guided Ama out of the village before mounting her and riding into the night.
A keese or two tried to interfere as he rode, but he eliminated them easily.
Eagus Bridge seemed infinitely more foreboding as he crossed it now. Horwell Bridge even more so.
Ama’s hoofs tapped rhythmically, a familiar, comforting cadence to the pounding in his heart. His skin felt cold, the hair on the back of his neck prickling. Was he being watched? He didn’t hear the sound of the earth tearing under clawed metal feet, he didn’t hear the claps of thunder that followed the firing of lasers, he didn’t hear the ticking as the mechanical monsters prepared to destroy whatever was in their path.
His heart raced even faster. Ama nickered nervously, picking up on his energy, pausing at the edge of the bridge.
Central Hyrule stood before him.
It was hard to really see it with as dark as it was. The moon was crescent tonight, barely spilling any of its blessed light. Abel’s eyes were wide, desperate to take in every piece of information he possibly could. The wind blew innocently, bringing the scent of soil and water.
No flowers. No leaves. No trees. Dirt was carried in the breeze, loose, eroding, barren.
It was all barren.
Abel carefully bade Ama forward, and as her hooves crunched into the soil, he felt his body tense further.
What little light was available from the moon vanished, hidden behind clouds heavy laden with rain. Ama’s black hair made her practically disappear into the darkness, and thunder rumbled not too far away.
Abel urged his steed ahead, slowly and carefully. Thunder rumbled again.
Thunder. Thunder.
The sky burned.
The bells in the temple rang repeatedly, a warning and a petition, a prayer and a guide. It punctuated the screams, it harmonized the ticking of lasers as they charged and fired, shooting through the air with such intensity that it created miniature claps of thunder as the heat separated the air harshly before it returned together with a snap.
Abel’s breath caught in his throat.
The world around him was deafening.
There was so much noise, and his ears were ringing so much, he honestly couldn't tell what sound came from what source anymore. Was it a scream? Was it a guardian? Was that a child wailing or a gear grinding? Was that his heart pounding in his ears or was it a thunderclap from another beam firing?
Ama whinnied, moving in place anxiously.
Abel stared ahead, watching troops march together, some limping, others helping their comrades. Many had wagons and horses to help them.
He heard whirring. He heard gears. He heard claws, and ticking, and thunder.
Thunder rumbled again. The earth shook. Ama neighed, growing skittish, jostling him in his saddle, it was raining, when had it started raining, something was moving, something was moving—
Abel heard horse hooves galloping, he heard a battle cry, he saw mud splashing in the barren wasteland around him—
Bokoblin!
Abel gasped, coming to reality, spurring Ama into motion, and she ran ahead. He drew his sword, catching sight of the enemy, recognizing faintly the familiar motion of aiming a bow and arrow. He jerked his horse to the side as an arrow flew by his ear, and he redirected her to charge once more, stabbing the bokoblin. His blood was racing, his body soaked, his hands trembling—
His horse whinnied with panic as flames spread too close, licking at its hooves and his heels. He steered the mare around the flames as she almost bucked him off, and then the flames were abruptly disrupted by a clawed foot tearing into the earth and squelching them.
In the haze and smoke, Abel recognized the pink mechanical eye transfixed on him. He sucked in a sharp inhale, coughing harshly on the smoke in his lungs, and urged his mount to move.
Metal glinted. Lightning flashed, reflecting on a blank eye, a mirror to a past of fire and smoke.
Abel froze in his saddle. Ama ran harder, petrified, out of control.
The guardian was hot on his heels, charging its laser as he once again pushed the horse to run faster. His steed neighed in protest, her stamina draining out of her faster than it could replenish, and the guardian fired.
Go! Go, run!!!!
Abel pulled on the reins hard, making Ama neigh in protest as she tried to obey, as her hooves slipped, she lost her balance in such a sharp turn, and both horse and rider fell into the mud.
Thunder rumbled.
Thunder clapped as lasers fired.
It was pouring.
The sky was aflame as people screamed.
It was deafening it was deafening.
Movement stirred nearby, screams—screams of civilians—thunder thunder guardian fire, they were everywhere—
Abel whirled, sword at the ready, a snarl at his lips as Ama tried to right herself. His hilt made contact, slamming something, and he looked around with crazed, terrified eyes.
Where was it where was it—
Ama finally stood. Thunder rumbled again. Lightning flashed.
Lightning flashed. Shining a light. A light. On the barren wasteland. There was—there were—what was—
Blonde curls, stained with red. A figure, lying still in the mud. Green tunic smattered in brown, the only green as far as the eye could see—
Abel felt his heart stop.
This wasn’t—this wasn’t real this wasn’t real nononononono—
Abel ran, heart racing once more. The world shook as lighting struck again. The figure remained still on the ground.
“TILIETH!”
He collapsed into the mud, shaking her shaking her begging, pleading, goddess no please no—
The still fingers. The still feet. The still body. The paleness, the redness, the black and blue and—
“NO!”
Thunder roared. The rain was deafening. But nothing could outweigh the sobs, nothing could cover the screams, nothing could stave the panic as the former knight shook his wife over and over and over and over and over.
#I am so sorry guys#I AM SO SORRY TIL AND ABEL#I DON'T KNOW WHAT HAPPENED OK#THE THOUGHT CAME TO ME AND IT JUST TOOK OFF AND#AJTEIWOAJFEIWOAJFKSLAJFIOEWA#ABEL IS NOT OK#writing#blood of the hero#abel#tilieth#tis but a scratch#eheheh#heh#I'm gonna go bury myself under a rock now#out of shame#and before Abel kills me#breath of the wild#legend of zelda#breath of the wild link#botw link#ABEL YOU MORON I--#GET SOME DAMN SLEEP AND--#*SCREAMING*#*flees*#NEVER LET ME LISTEN TO FINAL HOURS EVER AGAIN#my skin is crawling after writing this oh my gosh#NOBODY IS DEAD I PROMISE
34 notes
·
View notes
Text
Talking your ear off
(benji/ethan)
“I’m not a damsel in distress,” Benji notes, not really smiling. He standing in the middle of a barren room, hands on his hips. His lips are coated in fresh blood, not his, though, and his knuckles are busted and so is his left brow. He’s definitely going to have a black eye, and some bruises near the ribs.
Well.
He stares at the man at his feet, lying dead and in a pool of his own blood. To say it didn’t feel good to go a little wild would be a lie—he was never one to feel guilty about taking a life. Which, okay, when you put it like that, it does sound a little weird. It’s not like he doesn’t care. It’s more nuanced. He doesn’t, hasn’t, ever, considered random people’s lives much more important than those of his friends.
Now, he’ll save the world, and he’ll be happy to do so. But if, let’s say, he has to kill a dozen of people to help Ethan, well. You know. He’ll probably do it.
The nightmares would follow, and he would never quite feel at ease with the blood on his hands, that was for sure, but he didn’t have his friend’s moral compass. Despite being an awkward and bubbly technician, he was also a little more jaded than people gave him credit for. Which was part of the whole clumsy IT-guy persona, sure, and for a while it had worked. But his time in Team Hunt had taught him to let go of some of these aspects. He was a little freer.
Back to the point. The man had lunged at him and they’d fought for a good five minutes, and Benji’s brain had switched to the hurt, kill, incapacitate, hurt side of it, because that how he’d survived so far. And, he means, it’s not like he’d had complaints, so…
There are steps behind him, and turns slowly, resting a hand on his ribs, watching Ethan barge in the room, eyes wild and gun in hand. When he spots him standing, breathing, and relatively unharmed, he visibly relaxes.
“All good there ?” he asks, scanning the room to check for more traps—there were none, Benji had already double checked, walking up to him slowly. “Are you hurt ?”
“Well, my eye’s a little fucked up,” Benji supplies, “and he got my ribs good. But apart from that, I’d say I did a good job here,” he smiles, catching the surprised stare the other had sent him.
“What’s up with the—huh,” Ethan gestures at his mouth, “did you bite your tongue ?”
“What ? Oh.”
Benji shakes his head, pointing at the man and then at a bit of flesh resting slightly further away from his body.
“Bit his ear off.”
“You bit his ear o—what the hell, Benji ?”
“What ? I didn’t have anything on me, and teeth enamel is notoriously really strong. It didn’t take me very long, but he was really loud, and it was quite bloody,” he grimaces, rubbing his lips to try and get blood off, “kind of gross, if you ask me.”
“…but you’re…okay ?” Ethan asks again, patting his arms, “it’s not your blood, right ?”
“As good as new, darling,” Benji grins, visibly beaming. “Did you manage to retrieve the info needed ?”
“Huh ? Oh, yeah, yeah,” his lover mutters, still inspecting him closely, narrowing his eyes at the busted eyebrow. “We’ll get you checked in the van. Brandt and Jane are back, too.”
“Oh ! Isn’t that lovely,” the other cheers, taking a step forward, stepping over the dead body without a care in the world, “this is one of our most efficient mission by far.”
“Well, we are the best of the best,” Ethan offers with a laugh. “God I kind of want to…” he pauses, staring at his lover, gaze dropping to his mouth, “yeah.”
“Ethan, love, I too would rejoice in Frenching you madly against this wall, but to be quite honest, I don’t think it’s exactly hygienic.”
“It’s hot, though.”
“What is ?”
He hesitates, ears red. Benji would find it endearing if he wasn’t so high on adrenaline and if he wasn’t starting to feel hard in his pants.
“That you bit his ear off,” Ethan finally says, still staring at him. “I didn’t think you’d…do…that.”
Benji’s eyes widen, and before he can stop himself he’s laughing loudly, head tipped back, a hand laid flat on his stomach. This only seems to make Ethan more and more flustered, raising a hand to scratch the back of his neck in shame.
“Oh, my God,” the younger of the two men says, “is it like that time when I stabbed that woman to death and you watched ?”
“You were really agressive with it. It was a little intimidating.”
“Just say that you like it when I lose my shit,” Benji snorts, playfully punching the other man’s arm, “I can’t believe it. What’s next, you’ll get off on me breaking someone’s knuckles ?”
Ethan shrugs.
“Possibly. Have you ? Ever ?”
“Have I ever what ?”
“Broken someone’s knuckles.”
Benji hums, looking up as if deep in thought.
“I crushed some guy’s hand, once ? But in my defence, I was trying to make sure he wouldn’t be able to use his gun. Bit of a, huh, desperate mesure, if I’m honest here.”
“I like it when you get a little wild,” Ethan growls, cornering him against the wall despite it all, hands roaming on the other’s body, settling on his hips. “I don’t think you realise how good of a look it is on you.”
“What, the blood ?”
“Yes. Well, as long as it’s not yours, at least.”
“You’re a weirdo,” Benji smiles, almost licking his bloodied lips before remembering their state and stopping himself. “A weirdo who gets off on his boyfriend killing bad guys.”
“What can I say,” Ethan shrugs, holding him tighter, “I like the manic spark in your eyes.”
“We really need to get back to the van.”
“Can’t I at least get a little kiss before ?”
“Do you want to, like, catch every STD possible ?”
“Benji…”
Benji just laughs, kissing his cheek wetly, smearing it with blood.
“Hold that thought, darling. I’ll make it up to you once I’m all clean.”
Ethan pouts but lets him go anyway, opting to hold his hand instead.
“Promise ?”
“Yeah,” his lover grins wickedly, squeezing his hand appreciatively. “Promise.”
#mission impossible#mission impossible fic#benji dunn#ethan hunt#benthan#they’re disgusting little freaks in this one. yeah
25 notes
·
View notes
Note
You prob answered this before but im gonna ask anyway:
If Vivziepop said that Adam is “alive in some way”, what’s ur theory on it? (My theory is that Viv is hiding stuff from us)
(LOL I've been asked this a few times but I love answering stuff for Adam. XD So ask away!)
That's EXACTLY what I'm thinking. There's a lot of stuff that just doesn't sit right with my on how Adam died. It didn't feel final, not like, let's say, a DBZ kill where the bad guy literally gets torn apart.
I think she went about it the right way in order to make sure Adam had a chance to come back. If Lucifer hit Adam with his Destroy the Planet move, there was no question Adam would have been gone for good (and a big reason why I think the 'angelic light isn't a weapon' excuse is bullshit.)
BUT, having Adam stabbed left it open. Had the show not been renewed, then Adam could plausibly stay dead because of the angelic steel. BUT had the show been greenlit another season, it'd be easy to have him resurrect in Pen's place. An 'eye for an eye' kind of thing.
Add that NOBODY'S mentioned anything about Adam except for Viv's vague 'dead but alive' thing, and that she looks like she's avoiding Sinner Adam posts makes me wonder that Adam's going to be the shocking reveal for season 2.
I ADORE Lute, but let's be real...she does NOT have Adam's charisma. There's no way she can solo an entire story arc on her own. More than likely she's going to find Adam as a sinner and face her words coming back to bite her.
Viv DID say she put a TON of Easter Eggs for season 2, and A LOT of lines at Adam tend to lean towards someone falling in season 2. And Adam's definitely the guy that fits best.
I know from experience that lack of information does NOT mean it doesn't exist. Instead, it supports something IS happening, since why allow the hype to build and risk enraging most of your consumer base? Everytime a show pulls a move like that, it suffers MASSIVELY.
(Oh and the actors being banned from openly talking about season 2 definitely gives me the vibes that something very big is brewing...)
#justarandomaccountlolm#call me dickmaster! (adam)#hazbin adam#hazbin hotel adam#adam firstman#sinner adam#hazbin hotel#lute hazbin hotel#lute x adam#hazbin lute#hazbin hotel lute#vivziepop#vivienne medrano
24 notes
·
View notes
Note
Ponyboy hateful headcanons rn. He might be a silly little guy but he's kinda pisses me off
Ponyboy Curtis Headcanons (HATER EDITION)
! 🗯 ⋆ hateful Ponyboy Curtis headcanons
( a/n : this was actually a bit harder than I expected | please consider arguing abt my last take in the comments )
✶ A little bitch
✶ Reminds the teacher to hand out homework or that that the homework is due
✶ Unreliable narrator
✶ Outed Dally after he was killed AND insulted him
bro really said “oh great, he’s dead - he was fruity for Johnny btw” (ik it had a deeper meaning but stfu)
✶ A hater and for what?
✶ unnecessary judgmental, too
✶ Literally wrote out Steve’s entire personality
and the rest of the gang, too - pony is a bad friend
✶ Cries about EVERYTHING
✶ let Johnny talk him into going to a known criminal for guidance after getting tied into a murder
✶ Shows failure to empathize with the people around him
especially if they’re dumber than him
✶ Can’t make a good insult yet is 13 and in high school
✶ Invented lung cancer
✶ Eats off the floor
✶ Thinks face piercings are a sign of mental illness
✶ Says “no” when someone asks for a pencil knowing he’s got like 50 of them he’s stolen from other people
✶ Phobic.
✶ Ginger.
even a drop is too much
✶ Runs away at any minor inconvenience
✶ literally responsible for Johnny and Dally’s death
✶ Savior AND victim complex
✶ Unbelievably picky eater
either that or he unlatches his jaw to suck up food like a vacuum
✶ thinks salt is spicy and his carb intake is probably insane
��� Scared of bees
✶ Superiority complex too, this bitch got issues
✶ Doesn’t think before doing anything
✶ Treats women poorly
everyone keeps saying he’s gone you like a queen, but I just don’t believe that
✶ Talks the most heinous shit about all his friends
✶ Certified yapper
✶ He’s also a cancer
✶ Too idealistic to the point its delusion
✶ Only writes in cursive and will make fun of you if you can’t read it
✶ Pathological liar
✶ Fake blonde
✶ secretly a bully
✶ also terrible taste in men
✶ Also hates children
and, my final hot take
✶ Team Jacob
﹙📦﹚ request inbox thing is open ﹒zᶻ
#ponyboy curtis#c thomas howell#ponyboy curtis headcanons#ponyboy curtis hc#the outsiders#the outsiders 1983#the outsiders headcanons#the outsiders hcs#dallas winston#sodapop curtis#johnny cade#two bit mathews#steve randle#darrel curtis#yay#frank della rocca#ghstsrock#j’s writing 🤨🤨#twilight#team jacob
17 notes
·
View notes
Text
Productions of Hamlet where Hamlet downs Horatio’s poisoned wine himself, my beloved. Drinking the poison meant for your best friend to save their life must have felt so intimate…
#bonus points if horatio realises how decisive hamlet is being and just watches him do it with a very broken-hearted look on his face#i prefer that to the struggling and very visibly sobbing horatio. he’s more suited for silent tears. to me.#the rational stoic guy breaks down on the inside and you can see it#ALRIGHT ILL CONFESS that’s just my fav production of hamlet#it’s a musical and it’s in japanese so i don’t think the shakespeare girlies know about it but one day ill write up a post#and in that post ill be so obsessed with it. as i constantly am.#hamlet#also hamlet drinking the poisoned wine also means to me that he gets to kill himself even if he’s going to die from the poisoned blade first#and that makes him as many times killed as claudius. i haven’t thought deep enough about this part#on the other hand it also enables him to die for the purpose of saving someone instead of the purpose of avenging the already dead#(if someone’s trying to produce hamlet with the main message being it’s better to die to save someone than to die for revenge#this would be the chance)#(although why on earth would you want to undermine hamlet’s grief… don’t make his entire story pointless c’mon#if anyone has a better way to fit this point into the story than i do pls tell me)#the amount of times i think about the final scene of hamlet is just the amount of times normal teenage girls do the ending of r&j i guess#also look at this bitch describing what happens in hamlet like it's a real historical event
79 notes
·
View notes
Text
i go back and forth on rin's elemental nature. i really think fire suits her for thematic parallels to sasuke reasons and also i just think fire is cool and suits her whole. perception of her self and being weird about purpose deal. but water is also cool because i think rin deserves to bloodbend. elaine kind of beat symbolism where she controls other people to try and come to terms with how she can't control herself. the way to resolve this is to take the path of "nature can warp under stress or whatever" and let rin's og nature be fire, so she has that in the entire og timeline and also the team 7 sensei au (good because those are the ones where the sasuke parallels are the Strongest) and then in the akatsuki!rin au the whole almost dying thing somehow leads to her nature changing to water. which works well because that's the au where she is the weirdest about control and also masks. 👍
#i am going to write up the timeline for the rin team 7 sensei au at some point i just need. to work out a few kinks#(the kinks are kakashi. in case you were wondering)#i know EXACTLY how rin would work in that situation lmao it's actually really fun because somehow she gets. better ? mental health?#also sasuke FINALLY gets to be a medic. and rin gets to address her complex feelings towards being pushed into a medic role by the system#its soooo good and also i kill off minato <3 man gets drawn and quartered by iwa and he DESERVES it!!! i lvoe him#anyways kakashi does do the whole tsukuyomi gig but i have no idea why. lmao. im figuring it out#it's not that i can't picture him doing harm. it's that i can't picture him dropping the singleminded loyalty#maaaybe i could get him in on a misguided itatchi type beat? but even that doesn't make sense#because like. hold on stick with me. he's danzo.#yaknow the kind of guy who devotes his soul to the village and will go against pollicy if he thinks its necessary but is still 100% loyal#i will have to write the sakumo danzo kakashi essay sometime. because oh baby.#anyways if you've read this far and don't wanna burn me at the stake for weird danzo opinions feel free to chat me up about kakashi#i am. open to aid on my understanding of him. not dead set on much.
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
Sanji has adquired top sad wet cat status
#that cream guy just watching luffy tear his arms off ajdhakw#sanji had gone past his angst too quick.... picnic and everything damn...#i finally realized why his guard is offering him aubergines. he looks like an aubergine#but to me it is a metaphorical remainder of his bisexuality he is abandoning by marrying pudding (he is getting out of his polycule)#he wants the aubergine for later akdhkashsk see... he is already tempted by the familiarity#'pudding might be changing that's why she is busy.... oh didn't her room have a balcony' SICK IN THE HEAD#'oh is this inapropiate??' idk MAYBE 'it wont be a crime we will be married tomorrow' JAIL#THATS WHAT YOU GET FOR SNOOPING AKDHAKA#his face is so... that one meme drawing of the guy in a war....#i mean it is sad bc she was his only like light in the darkness but damn... hard lesson#oh luffy is cursing her out this is serious#well good thing aanji snooped...... is he gon a save his sister now or.... he wont fight pudding i am sure of that#sanji is gonna grab that gun and kill himself at this point pudding#jesus christ how long can this go on for.... you already killed him pudding stop hitting the dead horse#i believe reiju could kick her ass now that pudding is distracted but alas.... no girl om girl violence is allowed#sanji not being able to lit his cigarette is so..... this poor man... NOT THE SHOT OF HIM CRYING#omg perfect episode..... jesus christ.....#i uave to say.... i would have really liked for pudding to be normal and have sanji get away from a lover to go with the crew again...#its so bittersweet you know....... and shows his priorities#goddamn sanji crying in the rain trying to get a smoke...... this is like too much... peak poor little meow meow#wait a fucking moment... the intro song starts with my feelings for you are beating intensly.... this really is so gay....#gay sex on screen is less subtle#talking tag#watching one piece#episode 817#wtf pudding... if she didnt want reiju to die why tf did she shoot her....#sanji the flowers... she will know sanji..... sanji noooo#i get the soul thing but where do zeus and prometheus come from???? what kinda power is that...#JINBEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE#episode 818
3 notes
·
View notes
Note
okay here is my brainrot for the day: florist kalpas OR kalpas with a florist reader ‼️‼️ JUST THINK ABOUT IT like he keeps on accidentally burning the flowers and he’s like “whatever they were stupid flowers anyways just grow more” BUT INTERNALLY HES CRYING OVER THEM TOO 😭😭😭😭 I’m going to spend the rest of the day thinking about this I just know it -baby girl kalpas anon
IM GONNA SPEND THE REST OF THE DAY THINKING ABOUT THIS TOOOOOOO OH MY GOSH!!!!!
Kalpas accidentally burning the flowers but he goes home and is p o u t i n g and Elysia is like pushing him out the door to go buy flowers so she can play matchmaker 😭😭
or if HE owns the flower shop and he keeps trying to give you flowers but every time he sees you they mysteriously start wilting and smoking and you keep telling him it's fine but he refuses to charge for the sad flowers and he's just trying so hard to give you the perfect bouquet 🥺
#babygirl kalpas anon 🧡🧡!!#ok but what if you were like#going to get flowers for a dead relative at first#and youre like SUPER upset and dont notice the cute guy behind the counter#but you keep coming in every day and kalpas starts helping you feel better without knowing it#calling kalpas “the cute flower boy” is just really funny to me????#but what if you stop going to the grave after a while but you still go see him#so when he finally comes over to your place its just COVERED in flowers 😭#(also i think this man could kill a cactus)#(and that just makes this better)
10 notes
·
View notes
Text
✧ I won’t really write descriptions for these, but see original post tags for explanation/commentary on the song snippet ✧
#This was literally just off the top of my head improvising words that rhyme (as is obvious from me rhyming the word#'on' with the word.... 'on' (what's going ON my name is ON' etc. lol) but after actually thinking about it this kind of seems a little#sinister?? why is his name on the news? why is he fleeing town? makes me think of of some guy who's killed#someone or is finally getting caught for his crimes so one last stop before he flees town is he returns home to his husband (who he#calls Hummingbird sometimes I guess) and is like 'erm... tee hee.. I can't tell you why but I shall leave. farewell' etc.#also 'I guess I could show you' having a bad implication like.. yeah I COULD show you the dead bodies and evidence of my crimes#but I will spare you from that and simply let you live in ignorance (at least until you see the news at 10.. but I will be long gone by#then.. eating green beans somewhere lol).. ANYWAY.. 100% unintentional but you could actually almost read some sort of meaning#out of this one. until the green beans part ghhbjb.. I try so hard for everything to just be meaningless gibberish#that has no connection but I suppose sometimes a connection can be made. alas.. a perhaps accidentally Dark seeming song snippet#OR alternate theory. uhh... actually his name is on the news for a good reason. he donated all his money to charity and now#he's fleeing town just because he's embarassed to be publicly recognized.. a shy philanthropist OR an evasive murderer#BOTH versions of him like green beans. which is the truth? up to listener interpretation lol.. Also I#still find it immensely funny for some reason to do this lower sounding style of singing. which not that I really care about like having a#Broad Range or something since I don't think it'd even be possible to have one in my position (as someone#with zero musical/vocial training/etc.) BUT because part of what I find fun is like.. experimenting with all different sorts of sounds#and also doing choir type stuff. So then I do want to be able to sound like multiple people.. if that makes sense? I want to have a really#high voice and the a really low voice and have them sing together and it sounds like a duet or something when it's really just one person.#etc. Thus have a passing interest in learning to adopt different singing styles if I can. because then that's funny and I can do a wider#variety of things like it's all different characters or something as if all the song snippets are done by different people or etc.#(maybe just part of the nature of it being experimental).#And the low voice is always the goofiest sounding to me and very 'fake' seeming I guess#like blatantly is just someone putting on an affect or whatever but still in a kind of fun jokey way lol#beepo tag
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
Considering their IRL counterparts, we think there's a very good chance that since Heart was Rad God's previous host, while she got transmitted to Mad Rat via bits of her in the heart tissue. There's not a whole lot else going on in that operation besides the heart transplant, after all, and we doubt that the doctor had any extra contamination around to potentially transmit her. We know that she says she lives in rats, specifically, but there's One Specific Protozoan she's based off of, and cats are the definitive host o f Toxoplasmosis Gondii.
Given the givens, it's entirely possible she simply doesn't present the same symptoms cross-species, and a symbiotic host that offers more benefits to her just... won't experience the same trip, especially since trying to feed your cat host to a cat doesn't really offer any benefit to either of you. With Heart, he's probably either asymptomatic or just only experiencing symptoms that don't particularly affect his day-to-day life, possibly in a way where he wouldn't have even known he was playing host to a parasite if it wasn't for the situation with Mad Rat.
Would it be weird for him to be... aware of that, postgame? To know that he's carrying a parasite with the potential to majorly fuck up any rats that might contract it? Is there a proper way to react to the knowledge that you're carrying a hallucinogenic parasite in you that'll cause major issues for any rat you might infect? Would he even, like... figure out the whole "asymptomic/mostly asymptomic carrier" thing before later? These are the questions we really need to ask.
#mad rat dead spoilers#mad rat dead#we speak#MRD is a beautifully crafted game with an incredibly compelling narrative about death and life and making something of it all#and also we are going to talk about it like “hey yknow how rat god might live in heart's guts before being evicted via heart surgery”#we are certain someone else has said this considering we're just restating canon facts but we haven't seen it so we're making it again#please do imagine discovering you have a parasite because you died#and came back in a state where you could see the very strongly presenting symptoms in an intermediate host#this is also our theory as to why final cutscene heart uses rat god's voice btw#she's in there hanging out somewhere in his digestive tract and possibly offering mild rat-related perks#depending on how Weird mechanics are might be part of the reason he can talk to rat when the black cat doesn't share a language#gondii is a beneficial symbiote for cats after all#just not for rats#mad rat dead's plot from rat god's pov is just “you get evicted from your old apartment because someone ripped it asunder”#“and then stuck one chair from your living room into this guy's van with you still in it”#“and now you're trying to backseat driver your way into finding a new apartment. the guy will die if you do this but this is fine you think#and then she gets beaten up by the guy whose car she's using#and then from heart's pov it's just discovering you have some guy living in you like five years after she takes up residence#when she starts trying to kill the guy you were an organ donor for who you are currently haunting#and then mad rat is here with “god is real and she wants me dead”#maybe if we get the motivation we will make joke aus based on these at some point#maybe.#we rarely return to MRD so#maybe itll just float#this is one a them “once every three years” fandoms we might be back later but we don't guarantee it.#we'll see how it goes
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
I love rise sm.... it's just genuine teenage boys being boys energy and that's what I'm about son
#we just finished s1 finale im going feral#splinter and the boys... 😭#donnie having his mandatory autism moment when he has the vivid memory of the teapot LOL#i was like 'oh megan. that TRAUMATIZED HIM as a child'#you could see it in his eyes#leo following it up with 'breaking dads teapot and lying to him about it was the smartest thing weve ever done!' KILLED me#every line of this show knocks me dead#i adore how the thing that saved the day in the end was just a small family moment and memory... 🥺#like. none of the evil guys would have ever known about that and that was their weakness and downfall#wholesome. cryinginging!!!
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
i finished reading the 489 page transformers essay just now and i watched the first three movies over the last couple days. cinematic garbage. but it compels me
#wheeltext#megatron. i have so many thoughts about megatron.#he was frozen for thousands of years and dehumanized tortured while conscious and killed by a member of the species who tortured him.#that same person was the first person to say his name or treat him as a person in thousands years. and when he broke out the first thing he#did was claim his identity (i am megatron) continuing the conversation he overheard. and it comes out as kind of cavemanish if u take it at#face value as just a standalone statement but after unimaginable isolation and torture having someone go HES megatron. the leader of#the decepticons. was basically a peptalk. 'i am megatron' was him agreeing with that in a language it would be impossible for him to know#if he wasnt awake the whole time. also starscream likes him#starscream is always doing this like cruel toady goon voice and he says shit like oh... you're so wounded. so weak. but i think hes being#completely sincere#ok so if there are billions of transformers (sentinel says more tf than there humans) and the decepticons have won the war then most of#them are decepticons. but in the first movie only like seven guys show up to find megatron? and they just happen to find the cube as well#starscream is the sic usually so if that stays true and megatron has been missin for thousands of years hes been defacto leader for that#long. yet he seems to be part of an unpopular minority of decepticons who wanted to find megatron after hes been mia and presumed dead for#ages. then he helps resurrect him after two years two years in which he would have been the leader again#and when megatron has lost his arm and is horrifically injured starscream doesnt take him out or abandon him he says#not to call you a coward but cowards usually survive and bounces with megatron. then he corners sam (ugh) in the third movie and#ultimately dies. the first thing he says to sam is like finally... you and me. alone. like he has a personal enough vendetta against#sam to hunt specifically him down. but sam has only ever benefited him if all he wants is to lead the decepticons.#nah. hes getting revenge FOR megatron.#megatron sounds fond of starscream when he says blah you fail me me yet again instead of angry and he even jokes when he goes starwcream im#home. he does like beat starscream up a couple times but this is about starscream not wanting megatron dead.#it really really fascinated me why this starscream of all the starscreams was actually loyal to megatron and then it hit me#megatron is skyfire#he was frozen in the arctic for years and starscream has a past fondness for him. megatron is skyfire#which makes all of starscreams weedy goon lines hilarious because he's being completely sincere when he delivers them#anyway the movies are pretty racist unfunny and i hate all of the characters. megatron is goin in the blorbo quarantine kennel
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
Ohh babygirl I'm still going batshit insane over the bungou when the dogs are stray
#turtledove yells into the abyss#bsd shit#THE FANDOM WAS NOT FUCKING LYING WHEN THEY SAID CHAPTER 101 HURT.#WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT???????????????#WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK????????#KIlling. Killing. Snarling. Fucking breaking Chuuya out of that room with my bare hands.#HIS EYES.#HE FUCKIN. HIS EYES#HE PULLED OUT OF THE VAMPIRISM HE WAS HIMSELF ITS LIKE DEAD APPLE GUYS#HE REGAINED CONTROL OF HIMSELF FOR FUCKING DAZAI#JUST TO HEAR DAZAI GIVE HIM THE SHITTIEST GOODBYE IM GOING TO SOB#'thought looking back there were times we connected... like that time- Never mind there was never any!!! Goodbye!!! :D'#DAZAI WHAT THE FUCK#Im litearlly losing my fucking MIND#Bro really said there was never any time that they connected after a panel that litearlly.#had shots of EVERY TIMW THEY CONNECTED ON A PERSONAL LEVEL#ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME DAZAI#I'm going insane.#This is it this is my final straw.
17 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
klayr-de-gall
Make it happen
acerockswwe
AceRocks
spazzcat
I have loved the stars too fondly
shits-and-gigs
The Best Medicine
azulathepoet
ari