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danses-with-dogmeat · 3 years

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Male!Companions react to waking up alone after spending the night with Sole.

Hey all! So, just a heads up, I’m also working on this prompt for the Female!Companions for FO4, and also a bunch of companions from FONV and FO3, but if you have any specific requests or want me to add anyone, just let me know! Sorry this is so damn long, but I hope you all enjoy!

Also, there is a bit of angst in here with some mentions of suicidal thoughts, so just a heads up on that!

P.S. If you’re one of the lovely folks who has sent me an ask, I am currently working on writing them up and I will definitely get them out as soon as I can, I just really like the prompts y’all gave me and I want to do them justice :)

Danse:

Danse sat up with a start, immediately trying to gain his bearings, only to find himself still in the bunker, in his own bed. He let out a shaky breath, still dazed from the heavy sleep that had claimed him. It had been years since he'd slept like that, the last time he recalled sleeping so peacefully was when he was stationed at the Citadel in the Capital Wasteland. Even more than that, he had barely slept at all since discovering his true identity. Danse shook his head, trying to clear it of its sleepy fog, he went to rub his eyes, and he felt his heartbeat increase tenfold as the memories of his night with you came flooding to the forefront of his mind. Even now he felt the heat of a blush rushing to his cheeks. He turned his head, expecting to see your peacefully sleeping form on the mattress beside him. When he didn't, he wasn't sure what to do. Immediately, a slew of emotions and thoughts ran through him, ranging from shame, to panic, to anger, and most of all, hurt. Before he allowed himself to arrive at any premature conclusions, Danse called out for you, looking around the room. Nothing. He stood up, holding the blankets around his waist to conceal himself as he made his way to the hole in the wall that allowed him to peer into the other section of the bunker. Still nothing. The slew of contradicting emotions bubbled up again, leaving him feeling slightly numb. He stood there, just staring, trying to grasp a hold of any clear thought, but they were inadvertently tumbling into his consciousness at an alarming rate.

All at once, one feeling prevailed over the others, and Danse found himself feeling extraordinarily guilty. Guilty for agreeing to last night, for jeopardizing his friendship with the one person he had left in his life by greedily pushing too far. What right did he have to you and your feelings anyway, when his weren't even real? The pain of being deserted by you was overshadowed by the knowledge that he didn't deserve you in the first place. Even when he thought he was human, he had trouble rationalizing his feelings for you, thinking you deserved better than someone like him. Someone as hard headed, as inexperienced, and emotionally ignorant as he was. But now? Now, he wondered why you even bothered to waste any of your time on him, even just as his partner, when it was proven that he's nothing but a machine. Why had you even suggested last night, when you knew the truth about him?

He simply couldn’t understand it. Why had you allowed him to be with you in such a way? To be with you so intimately? Why had you allowed him to touch you so invasively? Why had you spoken to him so softly, so earnestly? How could your gaze have been so full of admiration, of love? He was a goddamn machine, and you’d let him share a bed with you, make love to you. He didn’t even know what love was, didn’t know if it was possible for him to even feel it; and yet, you’d been more open with him than he had been with anyone before. And he wasn’t even human. He was at a complete and utter loss for any form of explanation or reasoning behind your actions.

Danse stood alone in the bunker, staring ahead with brows furrowed low at no single thought in particular. It was then that he realized his heart was still beating out of his chest, he took a deep breath, and prepared himself to leave the bunker in search of you. Because, even now, when you were at the center of his feelings of uncertainty, of guilt, of hurt, he still felt the need to seek the counsel of the one person left he could truly trust, the one whose opinions he had sought in the darkest hours of his existence. He needed you.

More than that, he needed to make sure you were safe. At least that's what he told himself as he dressed, donning his power armor, before he rode the elevator up to the surface, his iron-clad hands clenching tightly as he gripped his laser rifle.

As Danse arrived at the surface, he noted the sunlight bursting through the lone window of the bunker, indicating how late he'd slept in, and he mentally kicked himself for his irresponsibility. If he had woken at his usual hour, would you have still been beside him? Perhaps he could've spoken to you before you left, encouraged you to hear him out, begged you to stay with him. Even just as a friend, just as a partner. He felt he simply couldn’t cope with the loss of you, of the security that you provided him.

Danse shook his head in an attempt to banish these useless thoughts from his mind. He couldn't control the past, he had to keep looking forward. With that, he crossed the threshold out into the Commonwealth.

Danse returned to the bunker a few hours before sundown, feeling utterly at a loss, he'd been everywhere he could reach, everywhere you could've gone in the period of time you had had to get there. He checked every house, farm, settlement… everything in the bunker's vicinity. His limbs felt weak and numb as he approached the entrance to the bunker. He could feel heat rising up in his face as his chest ached. He felt like he needed to hit something. Tears of frustration and dejection threatened to spill over, and he brought a gloved hand up to roughly wipe away the first drop that fell. Though, through the blur of wetness, he spotted a silhouette in the doorway ahead of him.

"Where the hell have you been?!" You shouted, running from the bunker and straight into Danse's arms. For a moment, he remained still, unable to reciprocate your relief in his state of utter shock. In the next instance, his rifle fell from his grip and he was wrapping his arms around you, as tightly as he could without injuring you.

"I believe I could ask you the same question, soldier." Danse said, willing his voice to remain stable. You pulled away so that you could look up at him, your expression one of confusion,

"I thought I told you last night. I had to go to Greentop nursery in the morning and talk to the settlers about their mutant problem." He blinked at you in surprise. At least, you thought you had told him, but maybe it had slipped your mind. It didn't surprise you, given last night's activities.

"But… Why didn't you wake me?"

"Because Danse, I've never seen you sleep in, I wanted you to get some rest for once."

"I would have rather been with you." He said quietly. You opened your mouth to speak, but he continued,

"It was irresponsible of you to leave me uninformed, you should have woken me. You scared me, Sole. I thought…" he took a quick breath to steady his voice, "I don't know what I thought. I woke up and you were gone, I wasn't sure if you were in danger, or if you were angry with me, or whether or not you even meant to return."

"Danse, of course I was going to come back, I just didn't expect you to be gone when I did."

"And for that, I apologize. However, I implore you to understand--"

"Danse. It's okay, we're both here now, we're both safe. And I don't know about you, but I'm starving. C'mon." You turned towards the bunker and went to make your way inside. Danse stood a moment, watching you walk away. Feeling began slowly returning to his limbs, and for the first time all day, his heartbeat slowed to its normal rate. He reached down to pick up his rifle, a small smile spreading across his lips as he moved to follow you back into the bunker.

Deacon:

Deacon opened his eyes, only to immediately close them again, as the bright morning sun showed through the windows of Ticonderoga safehouse, and directly into his retinas.

“Damn,” He said, reaching over to grab for his shades from beside the mattress. Once they were placed onto his face, he decided it would be safe to open his eyes once again. Deacon groaned as he rolled his shoulders, and sat up, stretching his arms overhead.

God, he felt good. The tightness of his muscles serving as a reminder of the… ahem, events of last night. Last night, with you. How the hell had that happened? He almost couldn’t believe it. After so many years of being alone, of feeling emotionally inept, and unable to move on. Here you came, seemingly out of some sci-fi novel, with your futuristic, time-traveling backstory, and inhuman good looks, and for some reason, you’d thought he was, of all things, cute. That was the word you had used, he remembered it vividly, and of course he had feigned being annoyed by the use of the word to describe him, but in reality? He adored the fact that you thought so. No one had ever referred to him as such, and the fact that it confirmed you reciprocated the feelings he had for you; that was truly extraordinary. These feelings that he had tried so desperately to bury deep down, where they couldn’t meddle with your friendship, or your professional relationship, or his own crippling fear of being committed to someone again (given how well it went the first time). Now, he barely understood why he had tried so hard to snuff out his emotions if this was one of the possible outcomes of revealing them to you. He never dreamed that you could have returned the affection he had for you. However, if last night was any kind of indicator… yeah, he’d say the two of you had pretty strong feelings indeed.

At least, that’s what he had thought. Until he turned to you excitedly, looking to see if you had woken yet, and found your spot next to him quite empty. His jaw clenched at the sight, but he took a breath and resolved himself to looking around the safehouse for your belongings. His teeth worried anxiously against the inside of his cheek as he noticed the distinct absence of anything belonging to you. Deacon stood in the middle of the safehouse, bringing his hands up to roughly rub at his face.

“God dammit.” He said aloud, unable to keep something from escaping him. Deacon liked to think he had a good bit of self control, it came with the job after all, a spy with no sense of restraint and proper judgment didn't live very long. However, you had this way of making him forget everything he thought he knew about himself. There he was last night, doing the one thing he vowed he'd never do again. Falling for someone. Him! Deacon, the immature, sarcastic, dishonest, and unemotional agent of the railroad; and here he was, head over heels for a widowed, pre-war saint like you. What a pair you two would have made.

I suppose it really was too good to be true. He thought bitterly.

Deacon grabbed his things and set off into the Commonwealth without so much as a glance over his shoulder. He stared dead ahead, refusing to address the pressure he felt in his chest. Trying desperately to maintain his cool and unbothered exterior, to remain the type of person he was before he'd met you. He always knew he could change the way he looked in a day or less, but the way you'd changed his perspective of the world, of his place in it, and his future? He didn't think you could have changed who he'd turned out to be if you had all the time in the world. Deacon was firmly set in his ways, so much so, that even he couldn't change who he was. No matter how much he despised himself at times. But man, had he been wrong, all the disguises in the world couldn't mask the fact that, for the first time in years, Deacon had a priority in his life besides the railroad, and besides himself. And that scared the shit out of him.

Now he wasn't really sure what to think. If you had simply wanted nothing more than a one-night stand, you could have just told him so. At least then he would’ve been prepared for this shit. For you leaving him, seemingly without a second thought.

The sniper shook his head roughly as he kicked up the dust of the wasteland, his footfalls much heavier than they had any business being. He always had prided himself at being a good judge of character, at being intuitive, but he never would have expected something like this from someone like you. Someone who cared about the happiness of everyone else more than their own well-being, someone who was kind, and selfless, and empathetic, someone who constantly put their own life at risk for the benefit of complete strangers. Sure, he did that occasionally, but his life was worth a hell of a lot less. You were a good person, and always had been. From the moment he saw you, everything he heard about you, all of it pointed to the fact that you, even after all you’d lost, after everything you endured, you were a better person than he could ever hope to be. And now, for you to do this to him? It was completely out of character. Whatever, he thought, if this is all you wanted from me, then fine. It's all you're going to get.

As he approached the Old North Church, Deacon mentally prepared himself for the possibility that you too would be at the Railroad headquarters. He decided to simply not acknowledge your… ordeal, and act as though nothing had changed. Though, if Deacon was honest (which he rarely ever was), he would rather not have you as his partner anymore. With the way he was feeling-- the way he had once felt about you, it would be too complicated. He didn’t need complicated. The railroad missions provided enough of that.

He entered HQ quietly, and mulled about, visiting with the others and picking up missions left and right in an effort to acquire enough distractions to keep him out of the church for as long as possible. He figured that way, the likelihood of bumping into you would be decreased enough for him to get a handle on himself before having to face you. But, of course, his plans were all for naught, he realized as you stormed into the catacombs, your glowering eyes falling directly to the bald sniper in the corner of the room; the sniper who was trying desperately to make himself seem distracted as he felt your eyes burning into the back of his head. At least you had the decency to lower your voice as you approached him,

“Deacon!” You hissed, shouting his name as quietly as one could shout.

He continued staring at the blackboard, a hand at his chin as he feigned interest in what was written there.

“What the hell?” You asked, taking another step towards him, close enough that he could feel your hot breath on his cheek.

“Hmm? Something wrong?” He asked, turning his head towards you while his eyes stayed glued to the board in front of him. You took a step back, and the next thing he knew, you had extended your hand forcefully towards his face, leaving a stinging red mark imprinted on his cheek in its wake. Deacon’s head snapped back towards the blackboard at the power of your blow, his sunglasses barely managing to hang onto his face by the bridge of his nose.

I’m not sure if I deserved that or not…

He brought his own hand up to rub the spot you had just slapped, finally letting his eyes meet yours from beneath his crooked shades. He nearly gasped at your expression. Your eyebrows were knitted together above your tear-filled eyes, your mouth a straight line as your chin trembled slightly. He’d say you looked sad, but behind your eyes, all he could see was fire. The same fire he’d felt when he saw that you had deserted him that morning. Or, at least, when he thought you’d deserted him.

Almost without thinking, Deacon grabbed your hand and dragged you back to the more private area of the railroad HQ. Despite your clear vexation with him, you allowed him to lead you to the back of the church catacombs, near the emergency exit.

“Alright, you finally ready to explain yourself?” You asked, wrenching your hand from his grasp.

“Me? I’m pretty sure it was you who walked out on me, and who just slapped me in the face for asking a simple question.” Your nostrils flared at that and for a moment, Deacon thought you were going to do something violent again.

“Okay, look, I know I’ve fallen for your lies before, but I think it’s pretty damn ridiculous for you to think that I’ll believe this one. I was there, Deacon! You left me. You took all your shit and left me alone at the safehouse. I don’t care what happened the night before, even if it was awful for you, or awkward for you to see me in that way, or whatever, you still don’t abandon your partner. We agreed to that the moment I became an agent.”

Deacon’s jaw dropped to his chest at his realization, and your accusation. He had left you? When? How? When was he supposed to find that out?

“Look, Sole, I’m a liar, I’ll give you that. But I’m a good one,” you rolled your eyes at him, a scoff sounding from your throat, “so, I wouldn’t even attempt to lie to you if I could see that you absolutely knew the truth.”

“God, if you’ve got a point, make it, asshole.”

“Ouchies, no need for name calling there, slappy. I’m just trying to figure out the miscommunication issue we’ve got going on here.” You glared at him, and he was forced to continue.

“The truth is,” Deacon looked down at the floor as he spoke softly to you, feeling as though the words were being wrenched from his throat, “I only left because I thought you had first. I woke up, and you were gone. Your things were gone. I thought that was it, that you were done with our… partnership. Done with me. And hey, I can’t say I’d blame you. Especially if you’d really think I could just up and leave after spending a night like that with you.”

“Oh.” you whispered, before trying to explain yourself, “I wasn’t-- I didn’t just leave, I mean, I went up to give High Rise the MILA for Tom. I was gone for five minutes, Deacon. I was coming right back.” The two of you stood a moment, as realization washed over you. And a bit of regret, too. And a sprinkle of foolishness.

Finally, he brought his gaze up to meet your eyes. Hoping his apology was as evident on his face as it was on yours. You brought your hand to his cheek, soothing over the angry red mark that you had left earlier, and Deacon flinched slightly at your touch, his eyes falling once again to the floor.

“It really only took you five minutes to think that I had left you?” You asked gently, the anger that had once been prevalent in your voice dissolving into concern. Deacon chuckled dryly.

“Haven’t I taught you anything? When you assume the worst, it’s a lot harder to be disappointed.”

“Yeah, I guess that makes sense. But I bet it makes it all the better when you find out you were wrong.” Deacon smiled weakly at you, shaking his head.

“Yeah, no. I’m not seeing the appeal in being wrong just yet.” The hand that still rested on his cheek slid to the back of his neck, grasping firmly as you pulled his face towards yours. The pressure of your brow displaced Deacon’s shades as you crashed your lips into his. He toppled backwards against the wall of the catacombs as you pressed more forcefully into him, his arms falling behind him to steady himself against the cold brick, as your unoccupied hand slunk up to his chest, keeping him pinned between you and the wall. You pulled your head back, but kept your hands in place as you murmured,

“What about now?”

“Hmm?” Deacon’s ginger eyebrows raised above his glasses as his mind went blank. You cocked an eyebrow at him, a smirk forming on your face.

“Oh, right. I suppose so. Though, I think I’m gonna need a few reminders every once in a while.”

“Hmm,” you mused, “I think that can be arranged.”

Hancock:

The ghoul awoke with a purr, stretching one ruined arm out to blindly search for your sleeping body. He distinctly remembered curling up with you wrapped tight in his embrace before lulling off into the best sleep he's had in years. For the first time in months he didn't have the nagging ache of wishing you were pressed against him as he settled in for the night. The thoughts of you lying so close but so painfully out of reach were finally pushed from his head to make room for the sheer bliss of being able to touch you, to feel your unbelievably soft skin, to breathe in your sweet scent and relish in the closeness of your body against his.

That was of course, until this morning. Hancock opened his eyes lazily, his dark gaze sweeping over the mess of bed sheets and pillows that littered the plush mattress. The sight of the disheveled blankets bringing back heated memories of last night. Before his brow furrowed at the realization of the current situation he found himself in. Hancock slowly rose from the bed, his dark eyes searching the surrounding room for any sign of you. He found his trousers, his hat, his coat... but nothing of yours remained where they had been tossed last night. If Hancock had a nose, it would have been curling alongside the rest of his scrunched up face as he thought of you leaving in such a hurry this morning. Hancock felt a pain in his chest and immediately craved a hit of something, anything, to numb the hollow feeling that began spreading through his body.

Sunlight shone through the windows of the old state house, the beams of light diffused by the ringlets of smoke rising from the ghoul's mouth as he took yet another hit of jet, trying hard to keep his mind blank, but inevitably failing as his thoughts returned to last night's events. Coming almost in slow motion, he picked apart every movement; every touch, kiss, lick, and caress, nitpicking every action he had made and thinking about what he might've done to warrant your desertion of him. But deep down, he knew that his actions mattered little. You had assured him on numerous occasions that him being a ghoul didn't bother you, but you had never really seen him before. Not in the way you saw him last night. Had never felt his rough skin on yours, had never run your hands up his ravaged body, the softness of your touch only amplifying the harshness of his own leathery flesh. You had never uncovered the gross discoloration of his radiation-ravaged body. But last night, you had finally gotten a good, long look. And here he was, thinking that you of all people could’ve seen past that. You had been able to forgive him for his past, after all. Hadn’t you? But maybe that had been part of it too. Maybe you’d finally realized all that he really was. A reckless and cowardly poor excuse for a man, who spends his life in a haze of delirium rather than facing the pain of being alive. A pain that he had inflicted upon himself to break away from that same self-righteous fog that he’d found himself in in the first place. It’s no wonder you’re gone. Maybe you were never even really here. Maybe you were just another daydream of his, just another hallucination. God, if that was the case, he didn’t even know what he would do. After having you so close, being with you like this? He didn’t really see the point in living without you.

Hancock sighed heavily at the thought. He didn't know how long he sat simply thinking, his perception of time temporarily altered by the jet, but he had to do something to alleviate this torture, and if chems wouldn't do it... well....

"I need some air," he rasped aloud as he stood and headed for the balcony, donning his coat and hat on his way out. The mayor had to keep up appearances, after all.

He almost didn't see you as he stepped through the door, the way you leaned out against the rail, eyes closed, a soft, beautiful smile playing at your plush lips. Hancock could've stared at you until the world around him turned to dust, but you moved long before that musing could come to reality. Turning to look at him, your smile brightened further, and Hancock couldn't keep himself from touching you. He grabbed one of your hands in his, using his other to caress your pink-dusted cheek, affirming that you truly were physically there, standing in front of him.

"And what were you doing out here all by your lonesome? Trying to give a ghoul a little taste of heartbreak?" You let out a soft laugh,

"No, sweetheart," you called him affectionately, leaning into his light touch upon your cheek, "I thought that you would sleep longer. I just wanted to get out and enjoy some sunshine." You turned once again towards the morning sun, the rays highlighting every one of your perfect features. Hancock beamed at the sight of you, before turning and looking out at his city in thought,

"Hmm," he mused, "Sunshine, huh?"

MacCready:

MacCready had been lying on his back for a while now, staring at the crumbling ceiling of the dingy little room at the hotel Rexford. This certainly hadn’t been his idea of an ideal location for your first time together, but who was he to complain? It was safe, and private, and it had been a damn good night. But he’d been staring at the ceiling for what felt like hours, waiting for you to stir. He’d thought it was odd, given the fact that you always woke up first when the two of you traveled together, but he’d like to think you hadn’t yet stirred because of the way he had exhausted you last night, his chest puffed out at the thought of it and he let out a contented sigh. The thoughts of your night together spilled into his consciousness, and he stretched out his arms in front of him, snickering slightly at the soreness of his body, and suddenly, he couldn’t wait for you any longer.

“Geeze, you awake yet, sleepyhead?” MacCready rolled onto his side to face the lump under the covers. He ran his hand over the mattress, over to you, but as he reached the lump beneath the blankets, all he felt was plushness. He withdrew the covers from atop you, only to find… pillows? Just a pillow, and a blanket. MacCready’s body spasmed as he jolted out from under the covers on his side of the bed, his head flying from side to side as he looked for you.

“Sole?” He cocked an eyebrow at the empty hotel room, and as he noticed your absence, his expression quickly changed from confusion to one of anger. You had left? But why? Had he done something wrong? He didn’t think so… but maybe he just... wasn’t everything you expected from him. Feeling like he’d been punched in the stomach, MacCready climbed from the bed, grabbing his trousers from the floor and stomping around the room in pursuit of the remainder of his clothes, not failing to notice how everything belonging to you was no longer in the room either. Heat rose to MacCready’s face as he pulled on his duster, but he wasn’t sure if it was from embarrassment, or anger, or heartache, or some combination thereof.

What the heck? He thought, you were the one to suggest doing this, why would you do that if you were just gonna leave me like this? Right when MacCready had thought he’d found the one. The person who could help him move on from Lucy after everything he’d been through. You were perfect, not just for him, but for Duncan too. You were selfless, and kind, compassionate, resourceful, sometimes you were a bit of a sarcastic ass, but he loved that about you. You were a parent and a spouse, just like he had been. You were both lost, and broken when you found each other, just a couple halves that had made each other whole. You were his future... Or so he’d thought. But who was he kidding? You were so out of his league, the two of you weren’t even playing the same damn sport. He should’ve known this would be the outcome. But then, why the heck did you let it go this far? Sure, he was the one who had poured all of his feelings out onto the table, but he didn’t know what he’d expected you to do. He just felt like he would explode if he held them in any longer, especially when the two of you spent so much time together. He saw you every damn day, and all he wanted to do was hold your hand, he wanted to sleep beside you and hold onto you through the night, to have you run your fingers through his hair and tell him that you felt the same way. MacCready never imagined you’d do something like this to him, never thought you’d get his hopes up, dangling the future he'd always dreamed of having right in his face before ruthlessly snatching it away.

He rolled his eyes at his own ridiculous train of thought and groaned as he bent down to grab his rifle.

“At least you paid for the room up front.” he mumbled as he placed his hat on his head and made his way to the door.

MacCready’s footsteps fell heavily onto each stair as he headed down to the lobby, wondering where he’d go from there. He considered going and looking for you, but what was the point? Clearly if you wanted to see him, you wouldn’t have freakin left. Was he really petty enough to seek you out just to tell you how messed up it was that you’d left him the way that you did? Maybe… but he needed a drink first. To the Third Rail it was, then. What was it, 10am? He could drink at 10am. He could do whatever the heck he wanted, especially now that you were gone.

MacCready reached the bottom of the stairs, looking straight past the small crowd of people that were gathered in the lobby as he made his way to the exit. Just as his hand reached the door, he heard his name being shouted. His body shuddered at the sound of your voice, and he stood stock straight as he decided what to do. One fist clenched as the other hand pushed the door open and he crossed the threshold into Goodneighbor. The door never closed behind him, and he felt an iron grip on his forearm as he tried to head towards the Third Rail.

“Ow, hey!” He spun to face you, face slightly contorted in his confusion. What was he supposed to think now? He was still angry and hurt, but should he be? Ugh.

“Wait, Mac. I know how it must’ve looked, but really, it’s just a misunderstanding.” He stared at you, his deep blue eyes clouded with suspicion. He didn’t say a word, not wanting to ruin anything by making false assumptions or accusations. Instead, he waited for you to explain, wrenching his wrist from your grip as he folded his arms over his chest.

Before you could continue, Rufus came up from behind, asking quietly if he could go through the doors.

“Come on,” you urged, “let’s get out of the doorway.” You herded MacCready to one of the couches in the lobby, seating yourself next to him.

“Alright. Explain.” He said, brows still furrowed. You almost snickered at how put-out the sniper seemed. You couldn’t quite tell if it was an act or not, but knowing MacCready… yeah, probably not an act.

“Rufus was having some trouble with Drinkin’ Buddy.” You told him, “The bot shut down and no one could get him to turn on again. This morning, some sort of warning light started flashing, so he came up and asked if I could help him fix it. I would’ve asked you to come along, but you were still asleep, and I know how you hate being woken up…” You trailed off, waiting for him to say something in response.

Man, MacCready felt moronic. Why had he been so quick to assume the worst? Okay, maybe not the worst, the worst would’ve been… Well, that’s not important. He shook his head, finally letting himself breathe deeply again.

“You sure that was it?” He asked, uncertainty coating his tone as he narrowed his eyes at you.

You leaned forward, smoothing a hand up his chest to the back of his neck as you brought your lips to his. Your fingers fiddled with the hair at the base of his neck and held him to you as your mouth moved against his, trying to answer his question without having to use your words. This was better, anyway. You felt a hand move to your waist as he relaxed into the kiss, his strong grip pulling you nearly into his lap as he returned your fervor. Only when you needed air did you pull back from him, your heartbeat still racing as you watched his gorgeous eyes flutter open.

“Did that answer your question?” You asked cheekily. He smiled, face still pink from the heat of your kiss.

“I don’t know, boss, I may still need some more, ah, reassuring.” You snickered at that, and glanced back at Clair’s desk.

“Any more convincing and we may need that room again. You think if we go now, we won’t have to pay the hotel for a second day?”

God, I think I’m in love. MacCready thought as he nodded to you, a boyish grin spreading across his lips. At that, both of you scrambled off of the couch, quickly making your way towards the stairs and up to the hotel room.

Nick:

The synth didn't sleep, but he didn't mind it. He stayed awake beside you in bed, replaying memories of the night over and over in his mind. Although he wasn't sure how comfortable it could be, he had his arms curled around you, holding you tightly to his synthetic chest while the memories of his favorite night (in either of his lifetimes) were running through his mind. You snored softly in his embrace, utterly at peace, as he gazed affectionately at your soft features. Nick didn't often feel blissful, and he never would've imagined himself in this situation, being completely content with the person he admired, and adored so adamantly, safely wrapped in his arms. He should've known it wouldn't last.

Without a sound, he felt as you slowly and gently pried his arms off of your body, climbing off of the shared mattress. Nick figured that you would give him an explanation; perhaps once you were out of bed? When you went to go and dress yourself? Before walking through the door? But you were silent throughout, even as he heard the door click shut behind you. Nick closed his eyes tightly, sighing to himself and wondering if the pain in his chest was substantial enough to cause him to short circuit. What had he done wrong? Even if it was nothing, he would understand why you had left. Even at his best, Nick could hardly amount to what any average human could give you, and he could never give you everything you wanted. Everything you needed, and deserved. He wasn't real. So he wouldn't blame you for leaving, hell, if he hadn't been so caught up in his own blissful feelings, he might've encouraged you to go. And he had, before last night had truly begun, he recalled asking you if he was what you really wanted. Then, you had seemed so eager, almost laughing at the thought that he couldn't be enough, after all this time the two of you had spent together, and all your pining over him. These thoughts circled through the synth's mind as he lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. He willed himself to grab a file and get to work, to do something, anything, to distract himself from the pain, but it was as though the weight in his chest was too much to bear. The height of his earlier high only amplifying the depths of his current low.

Every attempt to look through a case file was a failure, his yellow eyes roaming the first few lines of writing before his mind drifted off. To thoughts of where you could have gone, whether or not you would come back, and thoughts of last night. At the way you made his pistons fire at triple times their normal rate, the way you made his metal heart flutter in his chest, and the way you had come so beautifully undone in his arms. That was it. The moment he needed to remember for the rest of his days on this ruined earth. At that very moment, nothing else seemed to matter. He was sure he'd been foolish before, thinking you could never care for him in such a way. How foolish he'd felt then... it was nothing compared to now. The synth brought his metallic hands up to his face, the tips of his fingers displacing the worn hat on his head. He imagined tears flowing from beneath the heels of his hands as he dug them into his eye sockets, but of course none came. Would that have been acceptable? If he had been able to shed real tears, like a real human being, would you have stayed after last night? If he had been able--

The door to the agency burst open at that moment, interrupting the old detective's thoughts, and sending his head shooting back to see who had busted in so aggressively, his hat flying from its usual place atop his head.

The fact that the synth couldn't breathe didn't matter in this moment as he huffed a massive sigh of relief at the glorious sight of you, the light of the early morning sun casting a warm glow around your body.

"Oh doll..." the words escaped him as a smile began to spread across his synthetic lips, "for a moment there, I thought you were an angel." You giggled at that, your flushed smile causing the whirring in his chest to increase exponentially.

"I can't tell you how glad I am to see you, I was just about to open up a missing person's case on ya." You finally closed the door and made your way to his desk, leaning down to give his cheek a chaste kiss as you smoothed your hand over his chest, stopping to grab at his tie and pull him up towards you.

"Always the professional, hmm detective?" You smirked at him and he gave you a crooked smile before bringing his good hand up to stroke his thumb over one of your soft cheeks.

"Although," you continued, teasingly bending down to pick his hat up from the floor, "your uniform doesn’t seem to be up to the usual standards."

"Oh? Is that what you think?" He said, reaching for the hat before you held it behind your back, a mischievous grin forming on your lips,

"Sure is. You don't have your hat.”

“Oh? And whose fault is that?” He interjected playfully.

“And” you continued, “look at this coat, full of rips. It’s practically in shambles." you ran a finger down his side, allowing the tip of your fingernail to catch at the tiny holes littering the worn fabric.

"Hey now, my coat's always looked like that. You didn't seem to find fault in it when you were cold last night." You shook your head,

"Nope, I'm sorry Mr. Valentine, it's all in disarray, I'm afraid we'll just have to scrap the whole thing."

"Well now, if that’s what you were after, you could've just told me, darling. No need to insult--" His sentence remained unfinished as you tightened your grip on his tie, pulling him in for a kiss that was anything but chaste. He had so many questions left unanswered, but for reasons unknown, he couldn't seem to think of a single coherent inquiry to voice to you in this instance. Looks like it will just have to wait until later.

Preston:

Preston felt uneasy. His eyes had opened slowly when he had awoken, his heartbeat had remained consistently calm, dapples of sunlight shone through the holes in the curtains beside the bed, indicating that he had slept through the night. Why did everything feel so… so peaceful? No nightmares, no panic attacks, the usual insomnia Preston tended to face in the wee hours of the morning had never reared its infuriating head.

Then he remembered.

It was all because of you. Amazing, incredible, infallible, irresistible you. Heat flooded to his face as a coy smile touched his lips. Suddenly, he felt he had to be near you, he had to see you to believe what his mind told him had happened last night.

“Mhm, good morning," he sighed, as he turned to face your side of the bed, "how are you-- ?" Preston's eyebrows creased as he noticed your absence, his voice trailing off as he realized his question had no recipient.

"Sole?" He sat up, rubbing his awakening eyes before glancing around the room of your Sanctuary house.

"Sole?!" Preston said, louder than the first time. Perhaps you had simply gone to the washroom? Or to the kitchen maybe? Rising from the bed, Preston fetched his trousers from the pile of clothes that rested at the foot of the bed, trying not to dwell too much on the thoughts that it inspired.

But... only my clothes are here. He reflected, feeling a pang in his chest, before reminding himself that you might want to be clothed, wherever you’d gone, even if it was just in your own house. He released a bit of his anxiety in a quick breath, before heading for the bedroom door, he opened it gingerly, glancing down the hallway before making his way to each of the rooms in search of you. He did so slowly, hesitantly, in fear of what he might find. Or, rather, afraid of what he wouldn't find.

Preston stood in the empty kitchen, numb, his fear utterly realized. He collapsed into a chair at the kitchen table, afraid to let himself think, but unable to do anything else in his current state. Why, why, why did he have to act on his feelings for you? He just had to tell you how you made him feel, he had to be vulnerable and had to “put himself out there.” He just had to be intimate with you, he had to ruin everything. Why couldn’t he have just been happy with the way things were, with you as his friend? There he was, his life in danger, unable to help the people who needed him most, the Minutemen in complete disarray after having failed those they vowed to protect, and there you were. Here to save their asses, to turn his disaster of a life into one full of hope, full of light, and now, you were gone. You had left because he was an inarticulate, inexperienced, greedy, fool of a man who couldn't keep his mouth shut and just settle for having you as his general, and as his best friend. Why had he needed more? He didn't deserve more, not with you, hell, the whole damn world didn't deserve you, so how did he ever think you could want to be with him?

But you told me you did. You said you cared about me and-- No. Actions speak louder than words, and your absence after the first night you two had spent together… that spoke volumes.

Maybe you finally realized that I'm nothing special. Not compared to you. Maybe you realized that, next to you, and without you, I'm nothing at all. Preston balled a fist and pounded it weakly against your worn kitchen table, the dull thud resounding through the empty house. He sighed, sliding the chair back with a groan as he rose to his feet, heading once again to the back of the house. Entering your room without you felt like a crime, but he figured he might as well remove his things, and put on the remainder of his clothes, before leaving.

He stared down at the pile of tousled fabric at the foot of the bed, slowly untangling each individual article, secretly hoping that, if he took long enough, you would eventually make your way back into the room. That you would give him some inconsequential excuse for your absence, and he could forget all of the confusion and uncertainty of the morning. As Preston gingerly began to re-dress himself, thoughts came unbidden to the forefront of his mind. The way your soft, gentle fingers had undone each of the buttons of his shirt, the pressure tickling his neck, then his chest, down his stomach to his naval, your hands wasting no time as they moved upward to push the silky material off over his shoulders. He recalled the feeling of the smooth fabric of his scarf, as it unraveled slowly around his neck, a chill creeping onto the sensitive skin before you had chased it away quickly with the heated touch of your sweet lips. He remembered the breathy gasp that had escaped from you as your hands grasped tightly at the lapels of his coat, his mouth colliding with yours over and over again as his mind screamed for him to stop, to slow down, to ignore the fire blazing beneath his skin.

This is your general! It had told him, this is your friend, your recently widowed friend, your friend that you desperately need to keep in your life! If you screw this up, how will you ever be able to forgive yourself?

He should have listened to his head then. Why hadn’t he? Preston was sure that, if he had, it would have spared him from the awkward discussion he was bound to have with his superior officer in the near future. It certainly would have saved him the pain he was feeling now.

At the same time though... Last night had been the best night of Preston’s life. Did he really regret having those memories now? Yes, he had to. After all, what did last night matter if it hadn’t made you happy?

Preston shook his head, releasing a breath he was sure he’d been holding since he left the kitchen. Pulling up his boots, he grabbed the remainder of his things and left the room, glancing back at the empty bed one last time before placing his hat atop his head and pulling the door shut softly behind him.

The beams of morning sunlight chased away the fog that had settled in the streets of Sanctuary, bits of bright blue sky peeking through the gaps in the clouds. Looks like it’ll be a nice day. He thought somberly, trying desperately to perk himself up, lest he bump into any settlers on his patrol. He wouldn’t want to worry anyone with his troubled expression, and he certainly wasn’t prepared to answer any questions about his current state. Preston started towards the bridge, planning to begin his patrol of the perimeter from there. He was so focused on his destination, he nearly failed to notice the hand waving him down from the side of the street. When he did turn to look, his breath caught in his throat.

“Sole!” He exclaimed, much too loudly, as he noticed you, nearly dropping his laser musket. A wounded settler was seated on the curb, you were kneeling next to him on one side, wrapping a bandage around his arm, with Sturges standing on the other, an empty stimpak in hand. As soon as he processed what he was seeing, the Minuteman lieutenant tried desperately to compose himself, a blush inadvertently creeping up his cheeks as his eyes met yours. He adjusted his grip on his musket, and cleared his throat, trying to hide his embarrassment.

“Is everything alright over here?” He asked, making his way over to the group, “What can I do to help, general?” you gave him a small smile, assuring him everything was alright, and finished tending to the settler who, as Preston found out, was a new arrival who’d run into a pack of mongrels on his way to Sanctuary. When they were all certain the settler would be okay, Preston quietly asked the general if they had a moment to talk, much to Sturges’ amusement.

“I’ll leave you two lovebirds to it, then. And don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me,” Sturges slapped Preston on the back as he passed by, snickering to himself. Preston felt heat rising to his face again and quickly motioned for you to follow him behind the house, hoping to get a little privacy. He took in a sharp breath, before releasing it slowly, and you smiled warmly at him. That’s a good sign, I suppose.

“How are you feeling?” He asked you quietly. Your eyes looked past Preston, almost as though you hadn’t heard him, and he felt a pang in his chest. Turning your head slightly, you glanced to either side, ensuring no one else was looking on, before turning back to him, looking into his eyes as a flush touched your cheeks.

“If I’m honest?” you started, and Preston’s breath caught in his throat, “I’m a little sore.” you said with a little smile, and Preston felt his knees wobble as his legs nearly gave out in relief.

“Heh, if I’m honest, me too.” He said, shyly looking down at his feet as he felt heat rise to his cheeks. “So, about that,” he continued, “last night, I mean. Did you, ahem, did you like--”

In an instant, your lips were on his own. The kiss was soft, but forceful, affirming all that Preston was uncertain of.

“Last night was… amazing, Preston.” You told him after you had pulled away, your hands resting on his shoulders, keeping his body pressed to yours.

“Then, when you left this morning ... ?”

“Sturges was looking for you when he found the settler on his patrol this morning, but he obviously didn’t find you in your bed, so he came to find me and--”

Preston groaned, an embarrassed smile forcing its way to his lips,

“He didn't see anything, did he?” You giggled at that,

“No, honey, he didn’t see anything.” You rolled your eyes playfully, before pulling at his shoulders, urging his ear to your lips, “But someone did. And I hear they really liked what they saw. You know who it was?” you whispered.

“Who?” you heard him breathe.

“Hmm, you really don’t know?” You sneaked a peek at his face, noting the goofy grin that spread all the way to his warm, chocolate eyes, and you couldn’t help but lean further into him. Preston drew an arm around you, his hand on your lower back, keeping you anchored to him, and all apprehension following this morning’s events seemed to be forgotten.

“You might just have to remind me.” He said cheekily, pulling you into another kiss.

X6-88:

The tightness in his chest was the least of the courser's worries as he woke to find himself utterly alone. You were gone, that, he knew. But where-- no, how? How had you woken and readied yourself without also waking him?

He never should have agreed to last night. Not only was it completely inappropriate, given your future position in the Institute, but it had distracted him from his main duty. The most important mission he'd ever been assigned: to watch over his charge, to keep them safe. To protect you. He had grown distracted, and now you were gone. The future director of the Institute, someone he respected and idolized, a person he cared about, more than anyone he'd ever come across in his existence, was just gone. His loyalty to you was akin to his loyalty to the Institute itself, and that was non-negotiable, unbreakable, hard-wired into him. You had won his devotion on your own, which made it that much more meaningful. And that much more painful when he realized that you might not feel the same loyalty for him. But why would you? And why did he care? He was allowed to feel allegiance towards you without you needing to return it, was he not? But … if you had felt this loyalty for him, you surely wouldn't have left him alone, correct? At least that's what it seemed like, but X6 wasn't particularly knowledgeable when it came to this subject. He didn't know, these thoughts confused him, and normally you were the one to help him make sense of his more... human tendencies and emotions, but clearly in this instance, he was on his own. You had treated him like no one ever had, like a real person, and so he thought he could start acting like one. Feeling like one. But he was wrong. X6 wasn't wrong often, and he hated the feeling. In his current state, every feeling he had was a negative one. He decided to shut it out. These feelings weren't helping him protect you, which was still his mission, reciprocated loyalty or not. Sitting around, contemplating his emotions didn't help him to find you.

The courser sat up and climbed off the mattress, grabbing his clothes that he had folded neatly beside the bed last night, noting that only his were present. After you had fallen asleep, X6 had untangled his body from your own as gently as he could, so as not to wake you, and had placed your clothes beside the bed in preparation for the morning. He had retrieved his courser uniform from the floor, with the intent of dressing himself and sitting on watch for the night, but you had stirred, sleepily requesting he return to the space beside you. He remembered hesitating, before folding his coat and placing it on the table beside your own clothes and doing as you had asked. Sliding beneath the covers, he had laid on his side, placing an arm around your waist. He remembered wondering if what he had done was correct, if he was doing this all right, but you had seemed happy, and that was all that mattered to him. So, if he had done nothing wrong, why had you left? Taken your clothes, and your bag, and your gun, and vanished without a trace? And when had he started caring about your happiness? Your health, and your safety, yes, he should certainly care about those, given the nature of his orders. But now he cared about how he made you feel. He wanted you to be happy, and he wanted to be the one to make you feel that way. But why?

X6 shook his head, attempting to clear it, and grabbed his rifle from the top of the dresser. It was distracting thoughts like these that had forced him into his current predicament, he wasn't about to make that mistake again. Placing his shades onto his face, he prepared to head through the door, and out into the wastes to search for you.

X6 surveyed the surrounding area outside of your home in Sanctuary: the gas station, Abernathy farm, Tenpines bluff, even the inside of Vault 111. Yet, there was no sign of you. He returned to Sanctuary and found your house still empty, the hollowness growing in his chest as he realized that your leaving really had been intentional. Elsewise, he would have stumbled across you, or some sign of you, by now, right? He stood in your old kitchen, his knuckles paled at the death grip he held on the edge of the counter, his jaw clenching as he tried to hold his emotions at bay.

How could he have agreed to last night? And why would you have presented the idea if you had meant to do this to him in the end? With a groan of frustration, X6 pounded a hand against the countertop, leaving a small indent in the shape of his fist. Not only had you left him, you had done so without warning, without explanation, and now he couldn't find you. He couldn't find you. That's what he did, he was a relentless hunter, a cold pursuant, he completed all of his missions efficiently, he followed Institute protocol, he followed orders. What he didn't do was get wrapped up in human emotions, he didn't throw caution to the wind and give into his most base desires. He was a synth. He didn't yearn, or want, or love. Or at least he hadn't.

Not until he met you.

The courser sighed, fists still clenched in frustration. He didn't know what to do, you were his mission, but if you commanded him to leave--? But you never actually had ordered him away... In his eyes, there was only one option for him to consider.

"Unit X6-88, ready to relay back to the institute. Alone."

A flash of blue, and he was back. No one asked him to report in, and he didn't offer. He started straight towards the SRB, wondering what the consequences would be for his behavior. A memory wipe would be the best outcome, especially if... Oh. But if they saw the memories from last night, what would happen to you?

X6 stopped in his tracks, turning quickly to go up the stairs that ascended to the residential portion of the Institute. Once again, he was at a loss. He didn't want to lose those memories, but more than that, he didn't want anyone else to see them. You were the first person he's ever met that treated him as a human, saw him as one, made him feel like one, and he couldn't bear the thought of what the Institute scientists would say about you, say to you, or do to you, if they saw what you had done with him. The courser looked down at his feet as he walked quickly, moving instinctively towards your quarters. He turned down the hallway, and recoiled at the figure that appeared as your door dragged open. X6’s eyes widened beneath his shades, and he cleared his throat to keep himself from gasping in surprise as your eyes met his.

"There you are! I was wondering when you would finally turn up, I finished with the meeting hours ago. I was just about to go out and look for you. Don't tell me you slept in this late?" You said with a grin that spread all the way to your glorious eyes. X6 couldn't form words, he just stood gawking at you, his mouth half open, looking like a complete fool. Right, the meeting with Father. How had he forgotten?

"Is everything okay?" You asked, your smile being replaced by an expression of concern. The courser didn't answer, he still couldn't keep his thoughts in order; instead, he stepped forward until his chest pressed against yours, urging you to back into your quarters. You did so rather hesitantly, a confused expression causing your brows to crinkle. When the door had closed behind him, X6 slowly reached out his arms, wrapping them tightly around you, just as you had shown him last night, he pulled you to his chest and held you firmly. The warmth of you, your soft hair and sweet scent calmed his strained nerves, and he finally allowed himself to take a deep breath and close his eyes, just for a moment. As quickly as he'd initiated it, he pulled away from the hug, squaring his shoulders and straightening his posture,

"I'm glad you're safe, ma'am/sir."

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astrologyandlife · 3 years

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29° and 0° in astrology

the 29th and 0 degrees are said to be "critical" degrees in astrology, meaning that anything sitting in these degrees have a special influence on its expression and impact on the rest of the chart. so, i thought it would be a good idea to explore these two degrees and what they could mean for you guys!

part i: the 29th degree

the 29th degree is the very last degree of any zodiac sign. it is said to be the anaretic degree. here, the most difficult challenges related to the placement in question are presented, as everything else has been mastered. there is also a sense of inevitability with this placement. this is often marked by a turning point in the individual’s life.

sun – the ego and identity are strong, but there could be external circumstances that don’t allow the individual to express themselves in a completely authentic or transparent way. they must reconcile who they are inside with how they act. at times, they feel like an imposter, or like they are selling out to others. they know who they are, but do other people? this feeling that something is physically blocking them from existing impacts every action they take. they must figure out what is holding them back from complete self-expression and give themselves permission to be themselves in spite of this.

moon – this is where the most complex, desolate emotions a person can feel lie—the kinds of emotions that make you think nobody could possibly understand your experience. as a result, there is a profound sense of isolation and a difficulty integrating their emotional experiences into their self-expression. this only increases the intensity of the emotions, creating many situations of turbulence. sometimes the individual ends up completely blocking their emotions off to cope. only by facing their emotions head-on can they assuage these feelings and achieve a balanced state.

mercury – there is a tendency to get stuck in vicious cycles involving self-doubt and overthinking here. as a result, they sabotage their own efforts to make good decisions and communicate clearly. even a genius can make a fool out of himself. there can be this issue where they overthink sometimes and don’t think enough other times. they have this nagging feeling that they are missing some piece of information that is undiscovered or concealed from them. the final lesson is to trust the knowledge and experience they have to make the right decision.

venus – a profound sense of loneliness is pervasive throughout their life, as though every relationship they could have now would be empty and devoid of true connection. it’s entirely possible for these individuals to have trust issues, fall into unhealthy patterns in their relationships, and avoid intimacy. perhaps there is a part of themselves who feels they are unlovable in some way, or there is this one thing wrong with them, which they must forgive completely, the same way they would forgive and love another person.

mars – a desperation to act conflicts with a lack of confidence in their capability to do so. often this leads to them being frozen in the headlights like a deer, thinking, I have to do something but what if it’s wrong? the balance between too much and too little is blurred, leading to inconsistency and turbulence in their lives. they often end up in situations where they are forced to make snap decisions. re-calibrating their approach to conflict and matching their energy to the situation will relieve this problem.

jupiter – without thinking, these individuals over-indulge and rely on their luck and natural talents in some way. they want more of something, and it’s almost as though there is no satisfaction through receiving it. there is both a sense of hollowness and complacency that permeates as a result, and they forget how to materialize success through their own efforts. to remedy this, they must seek out growth, exploration, and expansion in its purest sense, to open their minds to a higher being or knowledge.

saturn – restrictive patterns are almost always the issue here. these individuals deprive them of something in their lives, not allowing even a moment of pleasure or reprieve from the overwhelming sense of responsibility they feel. external circumstances, especially in early life, have placed an undue burden on them, in some cases leading them to do anything to escape any responsibility placed on them later in life. to fix this, they have to let go of the guilt and fear they feel to give themselves back their agency.

uranus – how can they move forward? where is there to go that hasn’t been gone to before? in the same way that the sun in this degree struggles to find true authenticity in this liminal space, so too do these individuals struggle to find progression. somewhere they got stuck and stopped embracing their own unique qualities, which has made it impossible for them to then accept anything else. the final turning point here is to open their mind completely, to embrace entirely the open possibilities of the world.

neptune — this is the deepest recesses of this planet, where material reality as we know it does not even exist. at its most extreme, these individuals find it hard to live in this world because reality is simply too harsh for them in some way. escapism exists in its most extreme form, and the subconscious is too influential. and so, they need to escape themselves. here, the power has been given to a force that is not the individual, but rather something external to them. the task is to give this power back to the conscious individual, to escape the dream they have created for themselves and return to reality.

pluto — here, the complete death has occurred for the person. they have experienced the transformation, the change, and the end of the cycle. perhaps they have experienced in many times in their life. but the last stage hasn’t occurred yet. they become stuck before the rebirth stage, unable to complete the process. thus, the same situation happens over and over, re-opening wounds. the final turning point is to accept the change and open themselves up completely to renewal, to move on for good. lay it to rest.

part ii: the 0 degree

in contrast, the 0 degree is the very first degree of any zodiac sign. this is where the traits of the sign are most clearly and cohesively expressed, and also where there is the most to learn. you express this placement in a very raw, almost untouched way.

aries – there is a childlike innocence and naivete here, as well as an exaggerated impatience and sense of urgency. they feel that there is no time to wait. strong desire to be first and be a leader, even if they don’t know how to be one. there’s almost like a reckless quality to them. extremely assertive to a point of being hostile when others tell them what to do.

taurus – they are stubborn and fixed to the point of being unable to budge. it’s essentially impossible to stop the momentum once they’ve started, and they’re in it for the long haul. they can get stuck in their thinking and behavior patterns, doing the same thing over and over. absolutely must have stability and security in situations or they won’t commit.

gemini – absolutely no tolerance for boredom or lack of activity. they have to be doing something at all times, and often more than one thing. they’re extremely scattered. their curiosity drives them and they’re always asking questions or trying to learn more. they are constantly taking in information and changing their mind, never able to “settle.”

cancer – sensitive and emotional to the point where they can’t hide their feelings. here, there is someone who is very shy, cautious, and puts a protective shell around themselves. they have an intuition that is spot-on. very needy and moody. plays the role of caregiver and can be seen as a motherly figure. empathy is turned up all the way.

leo – they are completely self-focused and wants to be the center of attention. they want people’s eyes on them at all times, and they know how to light up a room. natural actors and tend toward being extremely dramatic. there is a sense of complete confidence in their abilities and pride in themselves. they refuse to settle for less than what they believe they deserve.

virgo – devoted to the service of others, typically in the form of providing feedback, criticism, and a helping hand. very critical and vocal about imperfections. they have an eye for detail that is unmatched. any form of disorganization or chaos is distressing to them, and they have highly specific routines and rituals. mind is constantly running to analyze and process information.

libra – cannot be alone whatsoever, and they are constantly seeking out connections with others. they are a complete pushover and seek out compromise in every situation. there is a desire to always seem agreeable and likeable. they often find themselves mediating for others, and there is an extreme need for harmony and balance. indecisive to the point of being paralyzed/hurt.

scorpio – the most private you’ll ever meet, and it’s impossible to get information out of them. feels the need to keep everything to themselves. has tons of secrets. they are super obsessive and will latch on to things quickly. needs control or to feel powerful in any situation. constantly on the defensive and trying to psychoanalyze the situation.

sagittarius – have an attitude of “it will all work out, don’t worry” even when they should be worrying. it’s impossible to tie down or get them to settle, because they have an intense need for freedom at all times. blindly faithful and optimistic. have a tendency to do things completely spontaneously. can feel claustrophobic when unable to freely act.

capricorn – absolutely rooted in tradition, even to the point of being narrow-minded. they constantly have to be going after success or achievement. the sense of responsibility is always present, which can lead to feelings of guilt or failure. an old soul from the beginning. a sense of “I have to get this right and prove myself” in anything they do.

aquarius – always has to be moving forward and making progress. extreme quirks are very possible here. highly open-minded and non-judgmental, and almost nothing surprises/shocks them. a savant, genius, or revolutionary. always at odds with figures of authority or traditionalists. a humanitarian to the extreme. they are ahead of their time.

pisces – hyper-sensitive to subtle influences and can be very spiritual or superstitious as a result. there’s an ever-present need to escape in some way, and they usually and have vivid imagination/rich fantasies. there can be a sense of directionlessness or shapelessness. the ultimate chameleon.

sun - feels the need for validation of who they are from others, projects a ton of confidence that they may not really have, very performative and forthright in expression. moon - often blindsided by their emotions, has difficulty realizing their needs and wants, less polished about handling their feelings. mercury - always curious and wants to know more, may present as a know-it-all or assert authority over topics, venus - loves the newness of relationships, craves connection and romance, wants to be well-liked by others, rejection is hard for them. mars - always in "go" mode, lots of energy and motivation, can be quick to anger or rile up, ends up in dangerous situations a lot. saturn - inherently assumes responsibility, has to learn lessons multiple times, tries to be disciplined and fails often. jupiter - lots of faith and optimism, definitely naive at heart, open to new experiences and chances for growth. uranus - has a lot of small quirks, open-minded and progressive, has a mindset of wanting to keep moving forward. neptune - rich imagination and a love for fantasy, feels directionless or like the possibilities are endless. pluto - may struggle with changes or transformations, lots of growth ahead of them, a strong presence that is very raw.

finally, i'd like to link some resources for further reading:

· https://www.astro.com/astrology/aa_article190801_e.htm (my favorite--super in-depth and peer-reviewed/published!)

· https://advanced-astrology.com/anaretic-degree/

· https://www.astrologyweekly.com/blog/29-degrees-the-anaretic-degree/

#other #this one took a couple months to put together due to needed to do heavy research!#astrology #degree theory #degrees #astro #natal chart

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randomfandomimagine · 3 years

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Secret Identity (Peter Parker x Reader)

Characters: Peter Parker, Miles Morales, May Parker

Fandom: PS4 Spiderman

Tags: Secrets, protectiveness

Warnings: Briefs descriptions of injury and blood

Word Count: 2,7k words

Summary: Y/N realizes Peter is behaving strangely, though nothing seeems to make sense until Spiderman appears on Y/N’s house, needing their help.

A/N: I don’t know if anyone actually reads these or not, but anyway. I love some parts of this but I feel kind of insecure about this as a whole, so it would be lovely to get some feedback about it, pretty please? And do reblog if you enjoy it!!!

Peter Parker x Gender Neutral Reader

Peter Parker, always so busy… but you didn’t mind dropping by to meet him. You missed your friend, and since it was hard to catch him sometimes, you didn’t mind going out of your way. Besides, maybe you could give a hand while you were there.

When you arrived at F.E.A.S.T., you went directly to the kitchen where Peter was usually helping his aunt. But there was only May there, so you went to say hello.

“Hi, May” You greeted her as you approached her on the table. “Do you need some help?”

“Oh, no, thank you” She smiled at you, dedicating you a quick glance before returning to her vegetables. “If you’re looking for Peter, he’s right there”

Following the direction she absently pointed at, you saw him in the main area talking to Miles. Seeing Peter made your day, as usual. You smiled at the sight of him, at the way he kindly patted his friend’s shoulder with a beautiful bright smile.

“Thanks, I’ll go talk to him” You told his aunt, and went to meet with him.

It had only been a couple of days since you last saw him, but you were so excited that the smile stayed on your lips as you went to stand next to them. He glanced your general direction as you approached, and he had to do a double take when he recognized you.

“Hey, Y/N!” Peter smiled, like every time you met. “Wasn’t expecting to see you today”

Miles smiled at you to reciprocate the gesture, even if he did in an amused way.

“Hello” He glanced from you and back to Peter. “I have to, uh… go help May”

“Thanks” You chuckled, knowing he was just trying to let you two chat.

“What are you doing here?” Peter seemed surprised, yet his smile lingered like yours did.

“I was hoping to go for lunch with someone” You nudged him a little. “You know, talk for a bit? Do that thing that friends do… uh, hang out? It’s that what it’s called?”

“Okay…” He rolled his eyes a little, still amused by your playful tone. “I know I haven’t answered your calls, but-“

“You’re busy, I know” You punched him in the shoulder, still in a joking manner. “I just miss you, Parker”

Peter winced in an exaggerated way, teasing you as always, and held that spot. This time it was you who rolled your eyes.

“Okay” Peter laughed a little. “Just let me say bye to May and then we can leave”

You had just exited the building when Peter suddenly gasped. You frowned, worried about his mild outburst. It was then when you heard a voice behind you, causing you to turn around in alarm despite his friendly tone.

“Peter!” It was a man dressed in a black and white suit, bearing a kind expression.

“Mr. Li…” Pete replied, although in a much drier tone. You opened your mouth to ask what the matter was. However, Peter suddenly put an arm around you and held you by the waist.

“Thanks for dropping by today” Mr. Li, whose name you remembered hearing from both Pete and May as being the man behind F.E.A.S.T., lingered on his friendly tone. He seemed unfazed by Peter’s uncharacteristic coldness.

“Sure” He merely replied, never taking his eyes off him.

“Who’s this?” The man looked at you, which caused Peter to press you against his side while still staring at Mr. Li.

“That’s Y/N”

“I see. Nice to meet you, Y/N”

“You t-“ You were about to hold out your hand to shake his, but Peter squeezed your hip with surprising force, which caused you to lower your arm.

“Well, I have to go” Mr. Li still smiled, apparently oblivious to his whole demeanor. “Take care of your… friend”

“I will” Peter assured, following the man with his gaze as he walked away. His jaw was suddenly clenched so much that the bone stood out under the skin. Your heart began racing, knowing something was definitely wrong.

“Pete?” You piped up, barely daring to raise your voice.

“Yeah” He absently replied, still looking at the point Mr. Li disappeared to.

“You’re hurting me, Peter” You tapped his hand, still tightly holding on to your waist.

“Oh!” He immediately released you, seemingly returning to his usual warm self. “Sorry”

“What’s wrong?” When your eyes met, you discovered something new in his, a certain seriousness that you hadn’t experienced before.

“He’s dangerous” He muttered, glancing to that far off spot again.

“But he runs things at F.E.A.S.T., and he looks so nice!”

“He’s not, believe me”

“How do you know?”

“I just do”

There was a tense pause in which Peter took a deep breath. Then turned to you again and gently put his hands on your shoulders. Even that soft gesture seemed to hold an incredible sense of urgency.

“I gotta run, sorry about lunch” He tried to show you a smile, but failed miserably. “Go home, I’ll see you soon”

“What’s going on? You’re scaring me, Pete”

“It’s nothing, just go home”

“No, I won’t leave until you tell me-“

“It’ll be alright” His haste seemed to subside for just a second in which he tenderly stared into your eyes. “Just… trust me, okay?”

“Okay” You nodded your head, much to his relief. He visibly sighed and relaxed his shoulders. “Call me later, will you?”

“Will do” As a goodbye, Peter gave you a friendly kiss in the cheek before running off.

You stood there, watching him leave in a rush. There was something strange happening and you weren’t sure you truly wanted to know what it was. You were too scared to know.

Heeding Peter’s odd warning, you went home and stayed there. It had started to drizzle, and the pitter-patter of the rain that fell against the glass of your window filled the bedroom. Sitting in your desk, you tried to distract yourself from what had happened a few hours ago. Despite your efforts, you obsessively glanced at your phone waiting for Peter’s call.

Just when you were looking at the screen for the tenth time, a noise startled you.

“Ah!” You exclaimed, turning to the window, where the sound came from.

“Hey…” A muffled voice said as the person knocked on the glass again.

You gawked at the image. Spiderman was standing outside your window. He was there, and you had to rub your eyes to make sure you weren’t seeing things. What was Spiderman doing at your house?

“S-Spiderman!” You quickly ran to the window and opened it. “Are you lost?”

He stumbled inside as soon as you did, shielding himself from the bad weather. Blending in with the raindrops, a crimson liquid began staining your floor. That immediately gathered your attention to Spiderman’s side, where his suit was torn and a fresh deep-looking wound was bleeding profusely.

You pointed a finger to his abdomen, opening your mouth to ask him about it. What had happened? Would he be okay? Did he need you to call someone? What…?

“No…” He breathed out, struggling to keep his balance. “I made it”

And then he collapsed, limply falling to the floor. Your hands flew to your mouth in startle, stifling a scream, and you threw yourself to help him. As you knelt down beside him, you froze for a moment, not knowing what to do. Then, of a sudden, you wondered again why none other than Spiderman was in your house. In all of New York, he could have gone anywhere. Why go to you? Was it a coincidence? What if… what if it was deliberate? What if he knew exactly where he was going, who he was asking help from?

“No way…” You whispered, moved by a hunch. On an instinct, your hand moved up. “It can’t be…”

As your fingers shakily gripped the end of his mask, your mind was boiling with thoughts. All of them seemed to point to the same thing, and to the same person. It was like all the pieces of a puzzle you didn’t know you were trying to solve were finally coming together. You pulled at the mask to reveal his face and…

“Peter…” You gasped, watching your passed-out friend. “It’s you…”

His face was pale, sweaty and filled with bruises, but it was him. His messy brown hair stuck to his forehead and temples because of the sweat, dirt and dry blood that gathered on his skin from all of those small cuts. But it was him.

Now that you knew about his secret identity, everything made sense. Why he was always late, why he seemed so busy and why he acted strange. Especially, his caution about Mr. Li. It wasn’t Peter Parker being suspicious of him. It was Spiderman having certainties about whatever crimes that man had committed.

“I have to do something” You nervously said to yourself, panicking as you tried to put some order into your thoughts. It had been alarming enough to see an injured Spiderman in your bedroom, but the situation only worsened when you realized him and Peter were the same person. Pete was hurt, and he might be dying. Your friend needed you.

Not wanting to stay on the floor, you sneaked your arms under his armpits and tried to hoist him up. You grunted, finding him a lot heavier than you thought. Then you moved him, dragging him to the bed and hoping you were strong enough to lift him up just enough to lay him down. Once there, you would do your best to treat his wound.

Blood, there was blood in your hands. It stained your fingers and your palms. Your heart raced at top speed. It was the only thing you could hear, even over the loud sound of your frantic breathing. It was trying to tell you something was missing. Something you should be focusing your entire attention on. A blur or red and blue passed your field of vision, making you feel like you couldn’t breathe. Spiderman was swinging around the city, leaving a trail of crimson while he did. He was hurt, why would no one help him?! Then you realized… it wasn’t only Spiderman, but Peter. He was bleeding. Peter was bleeding, he was dying, he…

You sighed when a warm hand stroke your head. Finding comfort in that gentle touch, you urgently squeezed what you were holding. As that hand shook you slightly, your mind began understanding you had been dreaming and it started pulling you into reality once more.

“Y/N” A voice gingerly called you, one that you knew well.

“Huh?” You mumbled, still dazed and sleep. Nonetheless, you raised your head and looked at him. “What…?”

Slowly, you came to your senses. That heartbeat in your dream wasn’t your own, it was Peter’s. It was what you heard, as your head had been resting over his chest, your ear pressed over his heart. It was a relief that it was still beating. You were also relieved, as you glanced down at his abdomen, to see that all that blood was part of the past.

“Peter?” You smiled, suddenly reinvigorated at the sight of him. “Pete, you’re okay!”

“Hi” He weakly smiled at you, although his meek expression drastically shifted. “Wait”

Peter touched his face, probably noticing he wasn’t wearing his mask. That reminded you of everything that happened. How Spiderman, or should you say Peter, had stumbled into your bedroom, hurt and bloody. You had done a terrible job at healing his wound, as you confirmed when you looked at the crappy bandage on his torso again. Still, it had done the work and it had stopped the bleeding.

“It’s okay” You comforted him, squeezing what you realized was his hand. “Sorry that I took your mask off”

“I should have known you would” He chuckled, even if that sound was a shadow of its former self. “You would have found out sooner or later anyway”

“How are you feeling?” You rubbed your eyes, feeling silly for having fallen asleep. All your bones and muscles ached from the posture, as you were still sitting at the chair by the bed, leaning down on him.

“I’m good” He grunted, doing an enormous effort to sit up. “I gotta-“

“Don’t you dare” You scolded him, not losing a second in pushing him back down. “You almost died, you’re not going anywhere”

Peter watched you, frowning and bearing an absolute sadness in his eyes. He took your hand again, the gesture holding great urgency and emotion, and sighed.

“Sorry for worrying you, I didn’t know where else to go”

“I’m just glad you made it in time”

“Yeah, it was fun swinging when the buildings were moving. It was a challenge”

You rolled your eyes, even if you were used to his bad jokes to break the tension.

“That’s not funny, Parker”

“Parker, huh? That’s not good”

“I’m serious… Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I wanted to, but…”

You stared at him, and the longer you looked the more you read his thoughts and the more you realized… he was scared. Telling you his secret was complicated and risky, and he had been too scared about many things. About how you would react, about the danger it could potentially put you in, about how many things could go wrong because of it. About the many consequences it would have for you.

“I understand” You spoke up, and even if Pete had been averting his gaze, he peered up at you now. He smiled a little and nodded his head, realizing what your words meant.

You weren’t only forgiving him for keeping it a secret. In a way, you were also thanking him for caring so much about you. At the same time, you were asking him not to keep you in the dark like that anymore. And despite the few words spoken, he understood all of this too.

A noise outside suddenly startled you two, making you hold on tighter to the other’s hand. Your eyes moved to the window, to the blurry police alarms blasting in the distance. Then you glanced at each other. Your heart skipped a beat with the dawning realization that you knew what he would say next.

“I have to go” He sat up this time, letting go of your hand.

“But you’re hurt…”

“I heal fast”

“Peter…”

“I’ll be okay, don’t worry”

Peter stood up from the bed, moving slowly and stopping for a moment when a dizzy spell apparently hit him. You nibbled on your bottom lip, hating to see him in this state. He had his eyes closed, but as soon as he recovered he opened them to look at you. A small smile formed on his lips, which somehow managed to ease your anxiety.

“Where’s my mask?” He asked, and you quickly picked it up from the bedside table and gave it to him. Your fingers brushed when he took it from you, and the tingling feeling that grazing touch gave you lingered as he moved away and put it on.

“I’ll call you when it’s over” You wanted to smile in appreciation, moved that he knew how worried you were and wanted to let you know he was okay when it was done.

You opened your mouth to say something, anything, but no words came out. In any case, Peter was heading for the window. He opened it, letting the cold and the rain in. He was about and leave, to swing away from you and straight into danger again.

“Pete!” As soon as he turned to face you, you threw yourself to hug him and kissed him in the cheek before nuzzling his shoulder. “Come back in one piece, will you?”

“I promise” He held you close against him, embracing that last moment of happiness and comfort. Like the calm before the storm.

When you broke away, you stared at each other for a long second. Then he took a deep breath, nodded and left. As you saw him swinging form building to building, you were conflicted. You were incredibly proud of him for being Spiderman, but you were just as worried. And scared. Still, a smile made its way to your lips. You couldn’t explain why, but you felt better when you closed the window. Because Peter’s presence lingered for a little longer even after he left, like a promise that he would be okay. Maybe it was that Parker magic. Because that wasn’t just Spiderman, it was Peter Parker.

Tag list: @call-me-harley-quinn / @wonderlandfandomkingdom / @trunks-kiwi / @andreasworlsboring101 / @kylosdankdealer / @timelords13 / @anxiouslyreckless // If you want to be added or taken off the tag list for these fandoms or characters, send me an ask!! // Feedback and reblogs are appreciated!

#peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #marvels spiderman #spiderman ps4 #ps4 spiderman #ps4 spiderman imagine #spiderman ps4 imagine #marvel spiderman imagine #peter parker #ficlet #rfi writings #peter parker ficlet #ps4 spiderman ficlet #reader insert #not requested

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theleftovertaco · 3 years

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Dragons Over Gender Roles

Here we have a Charlie x Nonbinary!reader

Quick note: I have done my research, I am LGBTQ+ myself, obviously I don’t give a shit about gender roles but I am also NOT nonbinary. I do not have these experience associated with being nonbinary or gender nonconforming or trans. If I mess something up let me know so I can fix my mistake!

You pulled on your heavy duty boots and gloves, ready for your first day in the Romania sect of the International Dragon Protection Agency. They had told you that you were going to meet your partner today. Told you he was a real buff dude, and immediately you panicked. You of course, were not one to deal in stereotypes but buff guys often had a problem with you gender identity and expression.

You heard a knock at the door and timidly went to check on it. Mrs. Nguyen, the sanctuary owner was on the other side, and she gave you a warm smile.

Nguyen was a short, kind woman who had transferred from a sanctuary in rural Texas a few years prior, so she had a strong southern accent. Before she left, you met her when you were still in training as an intern, and when there was a spot open in Romania, she contacted you.

“Come this way dear, Weasley is waiting for you on the other side of the sanctuary.” You remembered then. People used last names here, for some reason.

You followed her for a few minutes until the two of you hit the other side and you met with your partner.

He was gorgeous. Stocky, strong, with tons of freckles on tanned skin and a full head of shaggy red hair that looked like a dragon had lit his head on fire. It was fitting.

“Y/Ln, this is Weasley, Weasley, Y/Ln. Get to know each other, you’re partners for the next six months at least.” He shot you a smile and with that short greeting, Nguyen walked off.

“I’m Charlie.”

“Y/N.” there was a short pause and you exhaled before deciding you would just spit it out. Better to get it over with just in case. It didn’t matter how many times you came out. There was always a new person you had to tell when you first met them and it always gave you a slight bit of anxiety before you did.

“I should go ahead and tell you this now. I use they/them pronouns, not she/her or he/him.”

“Pronouns?” He looked at you a little confused.

“Uh, yes. I’m nonbinary. My gender identity doesn’t fall in line with being a man or a woman, and I don’t use pronouns associated with either gender.”

“Isn’t they/them plural.”

“Not always. We use it all the time: I found their jacket at the library, they must have lost it.” Charlie shrugged and nodded.

“Yeah, ok, makes sense. He/him for me, then. So, you transferred from the Texas branch? Does everyone there speak with a Texas accent like Nguyen?” He put on a terrible accent at the end of the sentence and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Not all of them. It’s the main one in the South so there's people from the Midwest as well as the southern and some from the western states. So there’s a bunch of accents all around.” You picked up a large bag of dragon feed for the younger dragons and headed with Weasley towards a pen to feed one.

“So, I heard there’s a lot of American dragons at that sanctuary?” You nodded and ripped open the bag of feed.

“We get a few Peruvian Vipertooths and other central American breeds. There was a breeder they busted up in Canada a couple months ago that ended up illegally creating a new breed that could exhale ice. Backfired pretty bad. We had to reverse it before it froze their lungs.”

“That’s awful! Are they ok?”

“Oh they’re fine now, I worked with a friend of mine on countercurses so it was over in about a month.”

Charlie quickly realized the extent of you knowledge and passion for dragons and the two of you quickly bonded.

The next few weeks went by in a blur as you connected with your teammates, especially Charlie.

There was just something extremely caring about him. He was really just a buff softie who cared about animals.

——————————

You were refilling the feed station for the ridgeback pen when Charlie approached you with his hands tightly pressed to his sides, looking nervous.

“Hey.”

“Sup?”

“I, er, I had a question.”

“Why, did something happen? Did Montague forget to change the fucking water filter again?”

“No, no, it’s not that.”

“Well, then what?”

“I like you. A lot.”

“Oh.”

“That’s it? Oh?” He crossed his arms and looked down at the floor. You dropped a bale of hay.

“To be honest I thought you were straighter than a flagpole.”

He chuckled and scratched the back of his head.

“Yeah, I’ve been researching some cause I was confused. Had to wrestle with a computer for a bit. I think the word is pansexual or something? When it doesn’t matter your pronouns or identity or anything?”

“Sounds correct... and you like me?”

“Yes... I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable and I get it if you don’t want to be my partner anymore or talk to me or-”

“Calm down Weasley. I like you too.” He froze in place.

“What? Y-you do? Oh, ok great! Do you wanna go to dinner with me tomorrow night?” He stuttered a lot when caught off guard.

You kissed his cheek and walked off.

“7:30 Weasley. Don’t be late.”

————————

Ok I’m lowkey proud of this one

#charlie weasley x reader #charlie weasley #nonbinary #nonbinary!reader

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procrastinatorimagines · 4 years

Text

Okay

Fandom: One Chicago

Series: Okay

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6 // Part 7 // Part 8 (Final)

Characters: Will Halstead x Halstead!Reader x Jay Halstead, eventual Casey x Reader

Warning/s: kidnapping, assault, drugging, fire, guns

Word Count: 2,542

Request: If you’re still taking requests can you do a jay x will x sister reader were she ends up getting kidnapped then they save her but she’s badly hurt and they freak out and worry about her when she doesn’t seem like herself please?

Summary: Reader has a comfortable life in Chicago and works a safe job at a library in town, but her life is thrown upside down when she gets kidnapped on her way home from work by people who want revenge against her brother Jay Halstead.

You didn’t really seem to fit the Halstead mould, the your oldest brother, Will, was a doctor, your other older brother, Jay, was a detective, and you, well you were a librarian. Will and Jay hadn’t always been around, Will had gone to New York for his medical degree and Jay had left to fight a war, you didn’t hold any ill will towards them for that, but someone had had to stay in Chicago to take care of your parents, especially when your mom got sick. So that fell to you, the youngest child, which was honestly fine by you, you hadn’t had any big plans for your life anyway, and you enjoyed what you did now... or at least, what you did now was safe and kept a roof over your head.

Your brothers didn’t mind that your job wasn’t heroic, they actually prefered you far away from the front lines, and you couldn’t blame them, there’d been a lot of tragedy for the Halsteads, and you didn’t plan on being the next casualty.

Well, you may not have planned to be, but whoever grabbed you and pulled you into a moving van when you were heading home from your usual week day shift clearly hadn’t gotten that memo.

One minute everything was normal, the next everything changed.

Your attacker wore a mask, and he wasn’t alone, there was at least one other person in the back with you and someone was obviously driving. You tried to kick and scream but they overpowered you, securing your hands and feet. The last thing you remembered before everything went dark was an odd smelling cloth being forced over your mouth.

By the time you woke up your head was pounding and your mouth was dry, your ankles and wrists chafing against the ropes that tied you to a beam in the room you were in, where ever that was. You weren’t sure how long you’d been out, but as your eyes slowly focused in on your surroundings you noticed a small window on the opposite side of the room you were in, the night sky partially visible through a crack in the newspaper that had been used to cover it up.

This was bad, very bad, you thought, panicking as you tried to desperately to free yourself from your restraints, which actually seemed to do more harm than good. Taking a very shaky breath you tried to focus, breathing in and out of your nose slowly as you though of what Jay might do in this situation. Jay... he’d come for you, with the full force of the Intelligence Unit behind him; it was a comforting thought, and one which enabled you to steady your heart rate enough so that you could hear your own thoughts without it pounding in your ears.

You could see stairs on the otherside of the room leading up, you were definitely in a basement, but there wasn’t much down here besides a broken games table, and a washing machine and dryer that looked like they hadn’t been touched in years - somewhere abandoned maybe? a foreclosed house? God a drug den even? This place clearly didn’t have a white picket fence outside, and the thought of who might be staying here, who might be staying here, who might have taken you, had your mind racing...

The sound of a door opening snapped you out of your thoughts, jumping as someone came stomping down the stairs, phone in hand and paying you no attention. He was a heavy set man, white and maybe middle aged, and you didn’t recognise him from anywhere. His face was uncovered, which was bad, you knew enough to know that if your captures didn’t go to lengths to hide their identity, then you probably weren’t making it out alive to ID them. What you needed was time, you thought as he slid his phone back into his dirty jean pockets.

“Good,” he said, approaching you as you tried to shuffle away, your wrists and ankles burning from the strain, “you’re awake.” He pulled the gag down from your mouth so that it hung around your neck and stepped back again as another man came down the stairs. He looked considerably younger than the first man, but still in his late 20s at least, leaner and with much more hair, but the family resemblance was clear, father and son you guessed. Which meant the third guy was probably a brother, or uncle.

“You gonna call him now that she’s awake?” The younger one asked, and you had a sinking feeling you knew who they were going to call, your cop brother.

“Yeah,” he dug a phone out of his pocket, but it wasn’t his own, it was yours. “Get her to unlock it.” He passed the phone to his son who approached you, grabbing your hair to make you look at him.

“What’s the password?” He demanded, giving your hair a rough tug as you struggled in his grasp.

“Go to hell,” you tried, your voice audibly shaking with fear. He let go of your hair and back handed you across the face, your cheek stinging with the contact as he grabbed you again.

“Try again,” the father said and you nodded, telling him the number combination to unlock the phone, if you were braver you might have held out, but you weren’t trained for this, you were a librarian for God’s sake.

The phone started ringing and your brother’s voice came through on the other end, “hey Y/N, I’ve been worried, you were supposed to come to Molly’s but you didn’t show, everything okay?” You opened your mouth to say something but the son shut you up, the father taking the phone from him as another man came down the stairs, gun in hand, and definitely another son.

“I’m sorry detective, but your sister can’t come to the phone right now, she’s a little tied up,” he said.

“Who the hell is this!?” Jay demanded, “where the hell is my sister!?”

“Someone who you owe Halstead, you took my son from me, destroyed my family, and now I’m going to do the same to yours,” he said venomously and you swallowed a large lump in your throat, the pit in your stomach growing painfully large.

“If you harm a hair on her head-” Jay began but the man cut him off.

“Do you remember my son detective? You put a bullet in him! You took my Joseph from me, now I’m going to show you what that pain feels like!” He yelled, face going red with rage. The son on the stairs had come down and his father snatched the gun from his hand. “This is only a taste of the pain you put my family through detective.” He pointed the gun and fired, pain shooting through your shoulder and your entire body as you cried out.

“Y/N!” You heard Jay yell frantically, but it was drowned out by your own screams.

“You’ll never see her again detective, just like I’ll never see my boy and my sons will never see their brother. Just remember Halstead, this is on you.” He grabbed your shoulder and squeezed the wound, making you cry out again. “Goodbye.”

“No, no!-” Jay was cut off as the man hung up, dropping the phone and smashing it beneath his heel. The gag was put back on your mouth, but it wasn’t necessary, your vision was blurring and you passed out from the pain.

You were beaten, bruised, bleeding, so groggy that it had taken you a few seconds to realise what had finally pulled you from your unconscious: the room was on fire. That’s right, you thought, your mind still foggy from the beating, and the smoke probably, they’d doused the room in gasoline when they’d left.

You struggled to move, realising they hadn’t even bothered with your restraints when they left you for dead; it was too hot, you couldn’t breath, could barely think as the flames got closer to you. You tried to crawl to the stairs but you saw that they had collapsed, the wood hadn’t stood a chance once the gasoline was ignited.

You stayed as close to the floor as you could to breath clean air, not that you could stand up if you tried. Darknessed threatened to overcome your vision as you tried to stay awake, soundlessly screaming for help. There was movement at the top of the stairs, muffled noises, and the last thing you remember before unconsciousness claimed you again was strong hands pulling you out of the flames.

They told you that they’d managed to work out who the perp Jay shot was, that they’d found a car that had been reported stollen by someone matching the description of one of the sons outside a gas station leaving town and caught them before they could make their getaway. But by the time they found out where you were, everything was up in flames. 51 had arrived at the scene at the same time as Intelligence, and Ruzek and Atwater had had to hold Jay back as Casey and Stella had come in to get you out. You had minor burns and smoke inhilation, they told you, three broken ribs, a broken ankle, severe bruising and laserations, a deep gash on the back of your head, and of course, you’d been shot.

Will had filled you in the best he could after you’d finally woken up. The bullet hadn’t gone all the way through and you’d needed emergency surgery to save your life. You’d been in and out for a few days after that, when you were awake you were so hopped up on pain medication that you couldn’t tell if you were just dreaming.

But you were fully awake now, and very much aware of the ache in every body in your body, as your brother spoke. You didn’t say much back to him, or Jay, or anyone who came and went, you just felt numb.

You’d grown up knowing all the dangers in the city, in the world, but you’d always been pretty sheltered by your brothers, and to go through what you did... you felt vulnerable, bare, like your world view had been stripped off and you were left seeing the true horrors around you.

“Y/N,” Will said, touching your arm to get your attention. You jumped and he pulled back, face stricken with emotion as he looked at his little sister, God you must have looked as bad as you felt, you thought, turning to face him to show you were at least listening. “We’re going to keep you here a couple more days for observation and then discharge you in the morning okay?” You nodded, “you can go home then, or stay with me or Jay if that’s what you want,” another nod, your eye lids getting heavy again all of a sudden. Will noticed and stood to leave, kissing you on the top of the head. “I love you Y/N, I’m so sorry- it’s going to be okay, I promise, just rest for now.” You knew he meant it, you knew he believed it, but you weren’t sure you believed it too.

It’d been a few weeks since the incident, your arm was still in a sling but most of the damage was fading, the external damage anyway. You’d stayed with Jay for most of the first week out before you forced yourself to go home to your apartment, but you still slept with all the lights on. You didn’t know when you were going to stop feeling this powerless, but you’d recently been starting to think that the way to get some control of your own life again was to take charge of something that you could do. You didn’t want to go back to the library, you’d spent the past week shelving books the best you could with one hand, but it felt wrong, you wanted to do something more, something to help people, like you’d been helped when you needed it.

You were meeting your brothers at Molly’s, and you’d finally made up your mind on the way over, you knew what you were going to do to take charge of your life again.

“Hey, there she is!” Jay waved to you from where he sat at the bar and patted a seat next to him, “Will’s just chatting to Maggie he’ll be over in a minute, want a drink?” He was trying to sound normal but you could tell it was strained, he’d been beating himself up for weeks about what had happened to you, blaming himself even though there was nothing he could have done differently, nothing he’d done wrong.

“I’ll just have a water, thanks,” Stella nodded to you from across the bar and went to fetch one as you took your seat.

“You good?” Jay asked, giving you a careful once over.

“I’m good Jay,” you said softly, squeezing his hand as your drink arrived. He opened his mouth to say something else but you shook your head and said more confidently, “I am.”

You could tell he wanted to say more but at that moment Will came over and took a seat on the other side of you. “Hey, glad you made it, I was beginning to think you would show.” He patted your arm, the same concern in his eyes that Jay had.

“Why would I not? I am the one who asked to talk to you guys you know.” You smiled.

“Uh-huh we know, is everything alright?” Will asked.

“Yeah you said you had something to tell us,” Jay sat up straighter, and both men got very serious.

“Relax, I’m fine, it’s nothing bad,” you reassured them before continuing, “I know I haven’t really been seeming like myself lately, and I know you guys are worried, but I just needed you to know that you shouldn’t be. I’ve needed some space to think things over, make sense of what happened-” Jay cast his eyes down guiltily and you grabbed his hand again “-and I’ve come to a conclusion, I’ve made a decision about my life that I think will really help me move past this.”

“Oh?” Will said questioningly, “you’re not like, leaving Chicago are you?”

“No, nothing like that,” you said, “I’m quitting the library, not right away, but it’s time I do something else with my life, something more impactful, like you guys.” Jay and Will shared a worried look.

“Are you sure? After what happened, don’t you want to be somewhere safe?” Jay asked.

“I was somewhere safe when what happened happened Jay,” you told him, “and I can’t go back and pretend nothing happened, I want to move forward, make a difference,” your voice was confident and steady, “I’m not a kid anymore, this is my decision, I’ve given it a lot of thought and I know it’s the right one.”

“Okay,” Will conceded but Jay still shook his head.

“What did you have in mind?” He asked, “what, cop?”

“Doctor?” Will followed on.

“No,” you shook your head and smiled, “I’m gonna become a firefighter.”

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boliv-jenta · 3 years

Text

Reflection

Casskane on AO3

Summary:

More Mando fluff. Spoilers for season 2 'The Believer'. Din tells you about something that happened on the mission, fluffy times happen.

Work Text:

You stood watching the reflection of the flames as they danced across the Mandalorian's helmet. His stillness would be off putting to most but to you it was telling. It's not as if Din didn't often sit so still that he resembled a powered down droid, you just knew him better. You'd travel with him on and off since he rescued the kid. You yourself had broken into the Imp's base after hearing the little green guy calling for help. You had escaped with Mando just to get off the planet. It was only during a quiet moment on Sorgan that you told Mando about exactly how you had hear the kid and realised you were better off sticking together.

You had been laying low in a cheap motel on Navarro. One night you awoke, laid there in the relative silence listening out for the sound that had woken you. You were shivering despite the heat. The hairs on your neck stood on end then you heard it. You'd had months to think about that night by the time you explained it to Mando, even after going over and over it in your mind, you still couldn't quite describe it. It was akin to listening to the melody of a long forgotten song and having some of the lyrics come back to you. You couldn't make out exactly what words were spoken or the language that was being used but the message was clear to you, "Help me".

After 'acquiring' a Trooper uniform you'd infiltrated the base, only to come face to face, figuratively at least, with Mando. He drew his blaster on you but hesitated for a moment. In that couple of seconds you heard a door open behind you. You instinctively dropped to the floor and drew your own blaster. Between the two of you you took out the four Troopers that piled though the door. After a quick silent exchange you both lowered your blasters and you lead Mando to the child. You'd later asked Mando why he hesitated. He'd shrugged and said he thought you were a little short for a Stormtrooper. It was the first hint of humour you'd heard from him. Rising up to your full height, from were you had sat in the cargo hold, you quipped that you were tall enough to be a Mandalorian, pointing out that you were only a couple of inches shorter than him. He'd let out a breathy chuckle and you'd blushed slightly when you realized how close you had been standing to him and the way it has made you feel.

You made a firm decision to lock any thoughts about Mando stemming from that moment away in your mind and never open them. Starting something more that the necessary partnership you two had had bad idea written all over it.

You suddenly realized that Mando had turned his attention from the fire to you standing in the doorway of your accommodation for the night. You had all decided to get some rest before going after Moff Gideon. Boba Fett brought you to a tiny abandoned outpost on a backwater planet. Each hut was only big enough for one person, all they contained was a bed, small cupboard with a lantern on top and a chair. Seven huts in total with a fire pit in the middle. It's position on top of a hill made it defensible. You looked at each other for a long while. It was just getting to the point of being uncomfortable when Din stood and made his way to you. "Can we talk?" His voice was raspier than usual and his tone told you that what ever he had to say was important. "Of course." You moved back into your hut, you gestured to the chair intending to sit next to him on the bed.

After you closed the door you realized he hadn't taken a seat rather he stood facing it. You took a moment to study his body language. Even though he was weary and sore was the mission on Morak his posture was still stiff and tense. It wasn't that surprising considering the situation but Din usually had a way of coping with stress and taken his downtime when he could.

"Mando?" you asked lowering the hand you had unconsciously reached out to him with "Are you ok?".

He slowly turned to you, a bitter huff of laughter escaping him. You realized how stupid your question was given the circumstances. You opened your mouth to clarify when he spoke again "I removed my helmet. In front of others." The weight of what he had just said hit you in the gut. You had begged him to let you remove his helmet on Navarro to save his life. It was the moment you had realised how much he meant to you. He had refused and in turn begged you to get yourself and the kid to safety.

When you met up again after him meeting some other Mandalorians, that removed their helmets freely, he told you all about it and his resolve to his creed seemed as strong as ever.

You stayed silent, you had no idea what to say to him. After a moment he continued "Mayfield saw an officer he served under. He didn't want to take the risk of being recognized so I tried to access the terminal." his voice sounded distant as if he was telling a story that happened to someone else "It scanned my helmet and started a countdown..I...I didn't have a choice. It was the only way. If I lose the kid..." he trailed off.

You moved closer to him, anyone else you'd reach out to them, offer a comforting touch but laying your hand on Mando's basker didn't seem to offer the same meaning to you. "You did the right thing." you smiled brightly at him. "We're going to get him back."

His shoulders dropped like a tension wire between them had been snipped. "I know and until I seek guidance from the Amourer I will continue to honour my creed."

You gave another reassuring smile "So you're good for now?" He let out a long sigh

"No." Your heart sank. This time you did lay your hand on him. His arm had been raised slightly across him body and you placed your hand on his forearm. He looked down at the contact.

"Din?" You pressed. You'd never spoken his real name before. His helmet snapped up to you at the sound of it.

"I've thought about removing my helmet...." he paused at your slight gasp."....once or twice. Never did I think that Mayfield would be the first person I knew in over 30 years to see my face." He looked down at your hand again. This time he covered it with his own. "I thought....well, I thought it would be you."

He pushed your hand down gently to remove his arm from where you had now begun to grasp it. Before you could fully comprehend what he was saying he lifted his hands to his helmet. There was a hissing sound just as you grabbed his arms to still them.

"Wait!" The gravity of the moment struck you. What this meant to him. What you must mean to him. You began to ramble, trying to convey your feelings to him. ." You don't have to...I mean, it doesn't change anything....the helmet, it doesn't change how I feel...I still..." you took in a quivering breathe unable to finish the last thought out loud, only silently admitting it to yourself.

You heard a smile in Din's voice as he said "I know." You loosened your grip on his arms and let him remove his helmet. He dropped it with a dull thud onto the bed as you stared at him. Something between a nervous laugh and a chuckle of delight bubbled up from inside you. He narrowed his eyes at you before you explained. "Maker, you're handsome." You mentally berated yourself. The poor man was risking something that was a huge part of his life, his identity, his life in an incredible, beautiful gesture to you and that's all you can say.

"Really?" Din asked nervously running his hand through his hair. He had to laugh at the absurdity of it all. Your big, tough faceless Mandalorian being suddenly being so vulnerable and awkward in front of you. He began to laugh too. Once the laughter subsided you couldn't help but reach out to touch his face. You laid your palm against the side of his face and rubbed you thumb gently over his cheek. He leaned into you touch. He removed his glove and mirrored the same action to you. His hand was warm and softer than you would have thought. You removed your hand from his face to take his hand in yours. You turned you head slightly as you brought his hand to you lips and laid a gentle kiss to his palm. Din closed his eyes and moaned lightly at the feeling.

You intertwined your fingers with his pulled him closer to you. His free hand made it's way up to cup the side of your head. You took a second to lean into it before looking back at Din. His warm brown eyes were looking into yours and you notice the tip of his tongue quickly sweep across his bottom lip. He leaned in towards you. "Mando!" Boba Fett's voice rang out across the outpost. You could hear his heavy footsteps approaching. Din replaced his helmet just as you saw Boba's armoured shoulder pass the small window behind Din. He knocked on your door. "Y/N?" Din sighed before answering for you "I'm here." Din dipped his head apologetically towards you, heading out the door to speak to the other man.

You sighed, taking a moment to try and sort out all the feelings rushing through you. Most prominently, annoyance, at Boba for interrupting. Din had left the door open so you moved forward to close it. Still lost in your thoughts you were startled when Din's gloved hand gripped the edge of the door and pushed it open. He slipped back inside, kicking the door shut with his foot while removing his helmet. He moved in a blur. You felt the cold of his baskar helmet press into the small of you back, as he wrapped the arm that held it around you. His ungloved hand came to the back of your neck and he pressed his lips to yours. They were softer than you'd imagine all those time lying in the dark aboard the Razor Crest. He kept them firmly pressed to yours for few moments before pulling away. For a very tame, chaste kiss and considering you'd never been at a lost for company in your life, it was easily the most passionate, incredible kiss you'd ever had. He leaned his forehead against yours, his warm breath fanning your face as he panted slightly. "I told him I had something important to do. I better go see what he wanted." Replacing his helmet he slipped out into the night leaving you to flop down on your bed as you grinned like a giddy teenager.

#din djarin fluff #din djarin x female reader

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halsteadpd · 3 years

Text

The Beginning: Part 3

Part 1 Part 2

So, so sorry this took so long to post! There's been a lot going on in my life and this chapter itself was quite wordy. I definitely wanted to get the "meet" right so hopefully I did justice. I don't have the time or energy to read through this entire chapter again so hopefully I edited correctly lol. Enjoy the penultimate chapter!

XXXX

This is like nothing she's ever done before.

She's scared but she doesn't want to admit it—her heart beats erratically and sometimes she feels as if it will jump out of her chest. Her friends and family had begged her to not go—it was too dangerous, a suicide mission her father called it. But Erin wanted to prove a point; she wanted to show everyone what the war was about.

When the crew landed on an airstrip near the base they would be stationed at, they were quickly ushered off to the side where a car waited on them. The way everyone was on high alert and held long guns around them added to the anxiety Erin was feeling.

Once on base, they're immediately guided towards a tent filled with multiple maps, radios and phones. The noise of the visitor's arrival gains the attention of the colonel and he places the pile of papers he was looking at down on the desk in front of him. He's old—his hair is salt and pepper coloured and wrinkles dig deep into his skin. It's obvious the military and war has taken its toll on him throughout his life.

When he stands and approaches the small group, he towers over all of them. He clears his throat before speaking; his voice matches his appearance. "Afternoon. I'm Colonel Williams, I oversee everything that goes on in this base." He paces back and forth in front of the group which inadvertently makes Erin stand up taller. "It's my job to ensure we get as many American soldiers back on American soil—that includes you." Colonel Williams turns his back to them and stares off in the distance at the maps on the walls. "You will listen to anything and everything my staff tell you to do. When you're out with a team, you keep ten to fifteen metres between each other. If something blows up I want minimal casualties. Meals are at 0600, 1200, and 1800 hours. Other than that, report on whatever you desire. But stay out of the way of my soldiers. They don't need any distractions right now." He turns to face the group again. "Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes sir." Erin replies, her voice strong; she didn't want to show she was intimidated by him.

"Very well then. O'Connor. Show them to their living area."

XXXXXXXXX

Erin and her crew have been on base for less than an hour and as they settle in, she can hear explosions from a distance. She's unsure if they're being purposely set off by the army or whether it's the Taliban. She wants to clarify with one of the soldiers on base but after Colonel Williams' speech, she's too scared to approach. They're not there to distract the staff.

A rather large explosion shakes the camp and she can tell it was close by—the fabric of the tent continues to flap around after the dust settles. It also caught the attention of everyone else on the base; there was a pause of all activities before resuming after confirming there was no immediate threat to them.

"That will be your lullaby for the next three months." Erin hears from behind her. When she turns she sees a dark skinned man standing behind her with his arms crossed. "We haven't gotten a break from them for a while now. Good luck sleeping tonight." He says dismissively as he returns to his task, clearly not daunted by the experience.

Later that afternoon, Erin and her crew are going over final details before they embark on their first recon mission the next day. They're all experiencing something new and had the crew not volunteered to come with her, Erin would've felt incredibly guilty bringing people into a warzone. They all knew that there was a chance of not coming home.

For the first day, they want to film what a day looks like in Afghanistan. They've been given permission to interview some soldiers, however their faces need to be blurred in order to comply with the military's rules and to keep the soldier's identities a secret.

In this distance, the sound of concrete exercise equipment being dropped can be heard.

XXXXXXXXXX

He's really been slacking on his fitness lately. As much as he tries to keep himself busy, reminders of home intrude his brain. Memories of that night still haunt him, often leaving him without an appetite. He's lost some weight and knows he needs to keep as much weight on as he can—it's the one thing that will keep him alive in a bind.

The lack of food mixed with missing workouts is hurting him today. He's taking longer rest periods to compensate for the fatigue.

In the dusty sunlight, he spots the media group sitting at a table. The base was alerted of their presence for approximately three months; they were told to not get sidetracked with the new distractions—it could get them all hurt or killed.

There's two men and a woman sitting, pouring over notes thoroughly. He can't help but notice how small and fragile the woman looks. The war is no place for her. It's people like her that get kidnapped and held for ransom. She shouldn't be here.

He's not a big fan of the media; they often vilify soldiers as the enemy. The thing is Jay never signed up for a war or invading another country; he just wanted to serve his country as a proud American. Sometimes he thinks about how he could've done that on American soil, without blood on his hands.

Feeling eyes on her, Erin looks towards the general workout area and notices a man sitting on a bench behind some dumbbells that rest at his feet. She notices him shake his head in what looked like annoyance before he returns to his bicep curls.

XXXXXXXX

The next morning, Jay is getting ready for patrol with his squad. He's slinging his vest over his shoulders when he sees three new people join in his periphery—the media group. Soon, they are joined by Colonel Williams and all the soldiers straighten up immediately.

"At ease. Today, you'll be escorting our fine visitors during your patrol. Understood?" Colonel Williams asks. "Don't forget to introduce yourselves."

"Yes sir!" One by one, the members of the army introduce themselves to Erin and her two crew members. When Jay stands in front of her, he once again notices how petite she is—he feels even more dread for her as he towers over her.

"I'm Halstead." He says, holding out his rough, calloused hand towards Erin. When she puts her hand in his, Jay can't help but notice how soft it is—how undamaged and unmarred it is.

"Erin Lindsay." She says back, smiling with her dimples in full effect as she takes in his sea green eyes that squint in the harsh sunlight. Summer is ending—thankfully—but the sun is still strong against their skin. There's a moment of anticipation between them—almost like tension before Jay lets go and rubs the back of his neck nervously. They both share a shy laugh before Jay interrupts the awkwardness.

"I'm, uh, going to go finish getting dressed." He points over his shoulder before immediately turning, not waiting for Erin to acknowledge his words. He doesn't know what has gotten into him, he's usually more in control of his emotions and feelings. Of course she's drop dead gorgeous and her smile makes his legs shake—but he had just gotten out of something apparently messy and Afghanistan is the last place he should be looking for fun. Right?

Jay straps on his knee and elbow pads before securing his helmet and sunglasses. He slips his radio into his vest before putting on his gloves. Grabbing his gun, he stands prepared with the rest of the group.

They've decided that Erin and her crew will be located in the middle of the group in case of an ambush from behind. The media is never given military weapons to defend themselves and are given the bare minimum equipment—they'll get helmets and vests.

Once they've confirmed they got everything they need, they set off west. There's not much to see on this side but the last thing the US Army needed was attention for getting journalists killed. Terrorists generally didn't care about laws to protect medical and media personnel. Regardless of the safer path, they are still scoping out any suspicious behaviour and the chance of getting blown up by a landmine is still there.

XXXXXXXXXX

He doesn't know why, but he's incredibly nervous for her. He's thankful to be a part of the back group so he can see her at all times. The vest is weighing her down—she's drowning in it and he can see her struggling under the weight. One of the squad mates showed her how to rest her hands on the front of the vest to make it more comfortable, it doesn't look like it's helping.

When the group begins to slow down and ultimately comes to a stop, he's on high alert. Jay's eyes skirt the landscape while also keeping an eye on the team. Based on the leader's body language, he knows something is up—it's not a drill.

Quietly, they're all ordered into the ditch on the side of the road and they lay on their stomachs. The media group seems to cower as they wait for their next instructions. They all wait a few minutes before sounds in the distance grow nearer. Jay's heart is beating fast and his respiration rate is up, but during his time overseas he's learned how to control it. When he peers over to his left towards Erin and her crew, he can see the fear and anxiety on their faces.

Unlike soldiers, civilians aren't trained to the extent as they are. They've gone through intense drilling and teachings to prepare for stressful situations in country.

The sounds grow closer and everyone is looking up from the ditch to see who crosses their path. Noticing it is just a couple of civilians with farming equipment, they all move out from the side of the road, some of them confronting the citizens.

Two of the group mates search their person and through the translator ask questions about local terrorists on the hit list. Jay stands back and observes their surroundings and the conversation, not wanting to be surprised by anything. Ambushes happen often and he'd prefer that it didn't happen now—not when she was here.

"This is vile." He hears Erin say to her camera man. "Innocent people being searched for what?" The man raises the camera to shoot the scene but Erin blocks it. "Let's at least give them some semblance of privacy. The rest has already been stripped away."

Jay realizes that Erin is right. Never in the U.S. would something like this happen; they had rights to privacy and unlawful search as citizens. What difference did it make here? Did it really matter whether or not civilians could be in with terrorist groups? Was he really the good guy in this situation?

A lot of the things he's forced to do aren't done by choice. He's there to follow orders. Many of the things he does or has seen being done overseas goes against his personal values; it sometimes makes him think that maybe he should've been a doctor after all.

After a few more minutes, they move forward with their patrol once declaring the two villagers clear.

Later that night at camp, Erin steps in front of the camera to record her segment for her news station. Jay's eating dinner and has a clear view of her—the light shines brightly on her face as she holds up the microphone. She looks focused and determined—Jay can tell that it's definitely her passion.

If only he could find his.

XXXXXXXXX

The next day is his off-day, and he doesn't have much to do. The pain of Ava leaving has dissipated and he no longer thinks about her as often as he used to. He continues his routine of working out and cleaning all his equipment throughout the day before scrimmaging with some of the others with a game of soccer.

The sun is setting in the distance meaning soon his day of rest and relaxation will be over. He'll be back to the war soon.

During dinner, Jay sees Erin sitting alone and after a couple of seconds deliberating, he decides to join her. She's surprised by the sudden presence next to her but she welcomes it. She's beginning to feel home sick and being here helps her empathize with what all of those on deployment feel. Jay notices a dejected look on her face and immediately knows what she is feeling—he experienced the same during his first tour.

"Everything alright?" He asks as he digs into his food, clearly ravenous from his day.

"Yeah…" She sighs. "It's just an entirely different world out here. It's not like home."

"Meaning?" Jay questions, not sure what she is referencing to. Of course it's a drastic change compared to what they are used to—he assumed she would have been ready to see that; he assumed she was the only one capable of making it out of here.

"Honestly, I don't even know how to explain it." Erin drops her fork onto the table. "I would love to go home but I need to be here—people should know what you guys go through on a daily basis. You don't have the luxury of calling it quits whenever you want."

"That's fair. But you're not here long right? Just a few months?" Jay offers, hopefully in solace.

"Yeah, I'm allowed to go home early if I want but I don't want to. Not when so many Americans are left behind." She sighs deeply and presses her fingers to her temples, wanting to relieve the built up tension.

"It's not being left behind, Erin. We signed up for this." Did we really sign up for the things asked of us though?

"Why'd you do it? Sign up?" Erin asks, wanting to know how he ended up more than halfway across the world. Surely he had a family that worried about him and his choices.

"Well, I had this whole plan set up for me in my life since I was in high school." He chews and swallows the bite of food in his mouth. "But when I started working towards those goals I realized that it wasn't for me. So I signed up for the army." He shrugs as if it wasn't a difficult choice to make.

"Do you regret it?" When she notices Jay's hesitation, she backtracks and hopefully clears up any fear for repercussions he may have. "This is all in confidence, I won't be submitting any of this. I just wanted to know."

"Sometimes." Jay nods somberly. "Those days where you lose your friends or when firefights go on without any end in sight are the worst. But then you're reminded of everyone else you have left that you need to fight for. And the ones that died for you."

"You're incredibly humble to say that." Erin smiles before reaching out to his free hand and squeezes it in comfort.

He's sure he looks like a deer caught in headlights. The soft skin of her hand rested on the rough and calloused one of his electrified every sense and nerve in his body. His mouth dries and he knows it isn't the type that will be soothed with water; this isn't something he has felt for a long time—this isn't something he expected he'd feel for a long time. I'm in trouble.

"Thank you, I really needed that." Erin says before she grabs her plate from the table and leaves him sitting there, absolutely stunned.

XXXXXXXX

Over the next few days, their dinner "dates" become a routine. They talk about their day and talk about things from back home. For Jay, it feels nice to connect with someone that isn't a soldier—it almost makes him feel like he is home. It brings a sense of security and comfort over him; in a warzone that's more than a blessing.

However, every night he sees that familiar look in her eyes—fear. He's never broached the topic, not wanting to overstep but it tugs at his heart strings a bit. He knows she's there voluntarily, but this life isn't one for a civilian. When he remembers that thought, he immediately feels for those who live in the countries that have been terrorized by soldiers flying in from every country that can afford a war. This isn't a life for anyone.

Their dinner routine slowly transitions more to an evening routine. Instead of exclusively talking at the table while they eat and going their separate ways, they'll talk late into the night—getting to know each other more and more.

Whenever they wake up the next day, the other is on their mind.

When Erin goes out with other groups, he worries. He knows it's dangerous to let his mind sway—distraction on the job could result in death or injury. It's hard to ignore the fact that everyday he falls more and more for her. It's the first time in months he's actually felt something other than anger and hurt and he welcomes it. When she eventually returns to base safe, he breathes out in relief and a metaphoric weight is lifted off his shoulders.

Others have begun to notice how much time they spend together—some tease him about it. They call her "Jay's Girl."

He tries his best to hide the crew's banter from her, not wanting to embarrass himself; he's sure she doesn't feel the same way. Just like him, she's here to do her job before flying back home. Soon they may not even see each other again—she's a New York girl and he's a Chicago native.

What Jay doesn't notice, however, is Erin's behaviour when he's not paying attention. The lingering glances; the soft smile on her lips when she sees him return from a mission; the way her anxiety skyrockets when she hears an explosion and knows he's out. He's been blind to it all.

He's kind and charming and he listens to her, hanging onto every word; she's never met someone like him. Not to mention, he's physically attractive which compliments his incredible personality. But Erin remembers the Colonel's words from her first day—the last thing she wants is to be a reason why he didn't make it home. Even if he didn't have anyone waiting on him, he still deserved to have his life back there.

XXXXXXXXXX

It's one of the last few warm nights that Jay will experience on his tour. In the mornings it's beginning to get cold, so they all bask in the warmth as much as they can in the afternoons and early evenings. There's a carefree attitude that surrounds the camp—there's a team guarding them while everyone else engages in some sort of recreational activity.

Jay's showing Erin how he cleans and maintains his gun. They're so focused on the task that they slowly melt away from their environment—all that matters to them at that moment is that they are together. Their shoulders lightly brush against each other but neither of them decide to move away to avoid the contact.

He hears it before seeing it, but the sound makes him turn around. In a split second, he's seeing a fiery explosion from the rocket launcher aimed towards their base.

"AMBUSH!" Someone yells out.

The camp is in a frenzy after that. Nobody has their equipment or guns nearby—currently their only defense are those on the border of the base. It's evident those soldiers unfortunately won't last long before succumbing to injuries from bullets and bombs.

Jay pushes Erin to the ground and orders her to hide under the bed—it likely wouldn't do much but it was her best chance at survival. He's glad he was near his gun but the fact that he doesn't have any vest or helmet is concerning.

The explosions continue and Jay moves forward—towards the combat. He can see a few of his friends lying on the ground; they had no chance during the surprise assault. As he fires at the attackers, thinking about how dumb it is to attack a military base. They're in their element—they have all the equipment and ammunition needed. Not to mention all of those deployed in the area were currently on base. They'll easily outnumber their attackers.

Explosions continue and based on how close they're getting to him, he realizes they're likely in the base now—all of the soldiers who were too close to the fire likely didn't have enough equipment or troops to defend their territory.

While Jay continues to move forward—using his gun as his only defense—he notices something dark fly over his head. When he turns his head back to see what it was, his eyes widen in horror as he sees Erin out in the open with her camera crew, filming the fight.

"ERIN! WATCH OUT!" He takes off in her direction but the second he starts running, the bomb explodes. The smoke clouds his vision but nonetheless he continues towards his target. Some of the equipment close to their sleeping quarters had been blown up; their attackers had likely scoped the place out without anyone noticing.

When the dust and dirt settles, Jay can feel himself almost pass out. Lying in a heap are Erin and her two crew men, unmoving.

"ERIN!" He yells out again, keeping an eye out for any movement from her—there isn't any.

By the time he reaches the group, he notices the camera men are okay, they're slowly making their way into seated positions, continuously coughing while trying to rid their lungs of smoke. When Jay flips Erin onto her back, he takes in the blood gushing from a wound in her shoulder and consequently, it begins to leak out of her open mouth and nose when her body is shifted.

"Erin, please say something." He checks for a carotid pulse and when he finds a weak one, he quickly picks her up bridal style and runs her to the medic's tent. Blood continues to come out of her wound at a rapid pace, pressuring Jay to run even faster.

Once he arrives, he places her down softly on the bed; it's here he finally realizes he's crying. He goes to wipe his eyes when he notices blood covering his hands—his knees begin to shake and he thinks he's going to be sick. The medic begins to rip Erin's shirt off of her and begins to place heart rate leads all over her chest. Her right hand hangs off of the bed and not wanting her to be alone through this, Jay takes a few steps towards her.

Before he gets to her, hands wrap around Jay's shoulders and begin to push him backwards, ushering him out of the tent before the flaps are closed, cutting off any sight of her.

XXXXXX

I've worked so hard for this, please leave a review!

#linstead #linstead au #linstead fanfiction #chicago pd #chicago pd au #chicago pd fanfic #chicago pd fanfiction #linstead fanfic #jay halstead #erin lindsay #jesse lee soffer #sophia bush #jay x erin #erin x jay

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suttttton · 3 years

Text

The Sum of Which (Will Never Make a Whole)

Plot twist: I actually wrote two timsasha angst fics for @bookish-bi-christian for the TMA Valentine’s Day exchange. Happy Valentine’s Day, part 2!

(AO3 link in the source!)

~*~*~*~*~

The wallpaper on Tim’s phone is still a picture of Sasha, from a trip to the beach they took together one weekend. In the photo, Sasha is on Tim’s back, her arms tightly crossed around his shoulders. She’s wearing a big sunhat and grinning.

Except it isn’t her in the photo, is it? It’s the thing that killed her.

Tim opens his phone’s camera roll. It’s full of pictures of her, of her and Tim. They were always together, up until the worm attack. Best friends. Love interests.

He scrolls through, anger and grief running through him in equal measure. Sasha had loved trivia nights, had loved half-planned adventures to new places, had loved binge watching murder mystery movies when she was sick. Tim has so many photos of her, and—she isn’t in any of them. Not anymore.

He finds a photo of himself, asleep in what he recognizes as Sasha’s bedroom. Sasha had clearly taken it, and Tim is struck by the softness of the moment, the quiet vulnerability of falling asleep in someone else’s presence.

The next photo had clearly once been a selfie. Tim is still asleep in the background, but in the corner of the shot is Sasha’s grinning face, very close to the camera. A photo that Sasha would take for the sole purpose of sending to Tim to tease him.

But it isn’t Sasha in the photo now.

Tim feels suddenly furious. All these memories he’d shared with Sasha, soft and vulnerable moments together, and every single one is now populated with the face of the thing that killed her.

Tim deletes the photo. Then he deletes all the others, too, every photo that Sasha has been erased from.

When it’s done, he doesn’t feel any better.

***

Jon was always bad at hiding his emotions, and that doesn’t change when things start to go to hell. If anything, he gets worse at it, dragging himself around the office like an injured puppy.

From the moment he steps out of his office, Jon is already telegraphing his nervousness so clearly it could probably be seen from space. He’s got something clutched in his hands, and Tim wonders for a moment where he’s headed, before Jon starts clearly making his way towards Tim’s desk, looking at the floor the whole way.

It annoys Tim, more than anything else. What right does he have, acting like he expects Tim to hurt him? He’s the one who trapped them all down here. He’s the one that got Sasha—

“What?” he snaps, when Jon reaches his desk and stops, still looking more at the floor than at Tim.

“I—here,” Jon says, and now Tim can see that what he’s got in his hands is a photograph. A polaroid. He hands it to Tim, and Tim stares at it for a long moment. It’s a photo of Jon, younger and unscarred. He’s scowling, and standing next to him is a woman Tim doesn’t recognize. She’s taller than Jon by a good few inches, and her arm is around his shoulders. She’s black, her hair falling around her shoulders in long braids. She’s grinning from behind orange glasses that take up practically half her face.

The photo is labeled, Sasha and Jon, 2012.

Tim wills himself to recognize her, to see anything familiar in her face. But there’s nothing. When he thinks of Sasha, the only image that comes to mind is of that—thing.

Tim’s eyes are burning, and he blinks heavily. He looks up, wanting to ask—But Jon is already halfway back across the room, fleeing back to his office.

“Jon!” Tim says, and Jon turns, still nervous, his shoulders hunched.

“I’m sorry I didn’t find it sooner,” Jon starts before Tim can say anything else. “I-I’ve been looking everywhere, but I thought it might have gotten lost when we moved down here, and I didn’t—I didn’t want to get your hopes up, in—in case I couldn’t find it.” He swallows. “That’s her, though.” Jon’s voice is thick, and Tim realizes that this is also Jon’s first time seeing the picture, his first time seeing what Sasha actually looked like.

Jon had also been Sasha’s friend.

“Do you have any other photos?” Tim asks, suddenly desperate, his voice rising with hope.

“I—No, I’m sorry,” Jon says, and the hope sinks until he continues, “That’s the only polaroid I have. It—Everything else just has the, the Not-Them, so—”

“But you do have pictures, right?” Tim says. “You didn’t—delete them?”

Jon stares at Tim for a long moment, blinking. “I—No, I didn’t. I made a locked folder for them, so I wouldn’t—But I couldn’t bring myself to—”

“Show me?” Tim asks, and his voice sounds too much, too desperate.

But Jon just nods, slowly approaching. Tim makes room, and Jon pulls up a chair beside him and opens his phone to the right folder.

Jon starts scrolling through the pictures quickly, and looking over his shoulder, Tim can see that Sasha isn’t in any of them. For a moment, he’s confused. Didn’t Jon say this folder was specifically for photos of Sasha?

Then Jon says, “Sorry, I—I don’t take a lot of pictures. Sasha liked to send me—most of these she took, so she isn’t in a lot of them.”

“Can I?” he asks, his voice shaky. He reaches for Jon’s phone, and Jon lets him take it. He goes back to the beginning, imagining the woman in the polaroid grinning behind the camera.

The first few pictures are of Jon, much younger-looking, back in research. He has an identical expression in all of them, scowling at the camera. But he’s wearing different clothes in each one, and Tim can’t help but smile, thinking of Sasha harassing Jon, day after day.

There’s a pair of photos that were clearly taken in quick succession. In the first one, Jon is looking at the camera with his usual scowl. In the second, he’s turned back to his work, but he’s got his middle finger raised.

It’s captioned, “does your grandmother know you use that kind of language???” and Tim lets out a surprised laugh before moving on.

There are a few more photos of Jon in research, and then one of Jon and Sasha in a dark bar. Sasha’s head is on Jon’s shoulder, and he’s smiling although he looks a little on-edge. Tim looks at the polaroid, imagines that woman in the picture instead.

He keeps scrolling, until he gets to a photo of himself, standing near the door to the research department, talking to someone just outside. It’s slightly blurry, like it was taken in a hurry, and it’s captioned, “new guy is cute!!!”

Tim laughs at that, raising an eyebrow at Jon.

“I told her to stop texting me during work hours,” Jon says, his cheeks slightly dark.

Tim’s not planning to push it any further, until he swipes to the next picture, which was clearly taken from Jon’s desk. It shows Tim and Sasha talking, Tim now seated at the empty desk beside her, just starting to get settled in. It’s captioned, “Who did you pay off to get him to sit next to you?”

Tim looks at Jon, who is now blushing furiously and steadfastly avoiding eye contact. “Was this before or after you told her to stop texting you?” he asked, his voice teasing.

Jon stumbles a bit, and it’s—nice. Warm. This kind of teasing used to happen so easily between them, and now—Well.

Tim looks back at the photo, trying to picture it. Sitting at his desk in research with the woman in the polaroid. With Sasha. For a moment, it seems to stir some memory in his mind, but it isn’t strong. He probably just imagined it. Wishful thinking.

The next picture is of him, his first day on the job. He’s smiling, and it doesn’t reach his eyes, but it’s something. He remembers this.

Everything still hurt from losing Danny, and he was dead-set on finding his answers in the Magnus Institute’s collection. And then he’d met Sasha, and she was friendly and radiant and, for the first time in months, he’d felt something other than sadness and numb anger. He looks down at the polaroid again, imagines seeing that smile for the first time.

She’d smiled like that when she’d taken the picture, saying, “It’s your first day, we have to remember it fondly forever!”

And it had seemed unfair, to get her hopes up that he was a decent person to be around. He wasn’t, not anymore. So he’d said, “I’m not really here to make friends.” And god, that sounded awful, didn’t it? He wanted to discourage her from pursuing friendship with him, not make her hate him.

But she hadn’t even blinked. “Oh good,” she said. “Because, I swear, the people who work here are the most annoying people I’ve ever met in my life. They are only tolerable as sources of gossip, and if I knew you were trying to make friends with any of them, I’d have to never speak to you again.”

And Tim couldn’t help it; he’d laughed at that. It was mean, but she’d delivered it in such an earnest way, and then she’d winked, and… he’d fallen a little bit in love.

He keeps scrolling. There are lots of photos of Tim. Photos of Tim and Jon, with teasing captions from Sasha that make Tim laugh for their wit. And photos of Tim and Sasha, with captions from Jon that make Tim laugh just for the way that the Jon sitting beside him is so clearly embarrassed.

And there are photos of the three of them together, at work, getting lunch. There’s one of the three of them at some dark bar, Sasha’s arms around both of their shoulders.

And then there’s a photo of Tim, asleep on the break room couch, his head thrown back, mouth hanging open in the most unattractive way possible. It’s captioned, “he looks so peaceful”.

And it isn’t like the photo from Sasha’s bed. It’s more casual, more teasing. But it draws up those same emotions, those same memories. Vulnerable moments now populated with the face of a stranger.

Sasha is gone. The woman who liked to take embarrassing pictures, who held the camera and smiled while Tim snored away beside her, is gone. She only exists anymore in one single polaroid, taken before Tim even knew her.

His eyes start to blur with wetness, and he sets Jon’s phone down, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. His breathing’s gone all sniffly, and he can feel Jon’s awkward shifting beside him.

“… Tim?” Jon says, after a moment. “Are you alright?” As if the answer to that question isn’t fucking obvious. There’s a moment of silence, and then Tim lets out a shuddering breath as Jon’s thin arms wrap around him.

Tim wants to shake it off, to yell at him. They aren’t friends anymore, and that’s Jon’s fault, not his. But… They had been friends. When Sasha was alive, they were friends, and he misses Jon. And he misses Sasha.

So, just for now, he leans into Jon, and cries.

#tma valentine's exchange 2021 #tma #tma fic #timsasha #stranger danger #tim stoker #jarchivist sims #i finished writing this and was like #huh this sure is sad #my fic

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inspired-by-the-music · 3 years

Text

For You: Stand By Me

Taglist: @jineunwootrash

If you would like to be added to the taglist of any of this blog’s works, please ask!

Recommended Reading: For You: 4 O’Clock; these works have separate, independent, but deeply interwoven timelines.

Chapter 8: The Closet Confrontation

Lucas’s POV

I was minding my own business. While I was walking to dance practice in the S.M. building, somebody yanked me into a utility closet. Maybe yank is too strong of a word. Anyway, even though the touch wasn’t exactly rough, I yelped. My heart hammered against my ribcage, and it didn’t calm immediately after I was released.

My fear didn’t fade even when my abductor flipped on the overhead light to reveal his identity. For a split second, I thought my eyes were tricking me or something because I had never seen any member of EXO up close. None of them had talked to me before. Even after blinking over and over again, after my eyes adjusted to the light, Sehun stayed in front of me.

Sehun wasn’t much taller than me, but almost anyone (including me) would have shrunk under his gaze just because of his height. Panic melted into confusion the longer he looked at me.

What did he want? Why was he scowling down at me, sharp eyebrows arched and drawn together, when we had never even met? These weren’t the kinds of questions anyone should ask when faced with the kind of glare he offered me. Even I knew that. So I bit down on my tongue and waited for him to speak first.

“What are your intentions with Lei?” His voice was low, almost a casual sort of whisper. The only hint that he was upset about something was the dark glint in his eyes. His eyes were dark. The only person with darker brown (almost black) eyes was Lei.

Lei’s name, when it fell out of Sehun’s mouth and popped up in my thoughts, made me smile. Something warm spread through my chest as I bragged, “She’s the coolest girl I know!” Even Sehun’s pointed stare couldn’t kill that warmth no matter how hard it tried.

“Is that it?” Sehun raised a single eyebrow. He didn’t look convinced, and I couldn’t understand.

Nobody has ever believed that Lei and I are just friends. Maybe we aren’t. Maybe we never were.

Don’t get crazy! We weren’t in love. It’s just— from the moment we met, we were family. From the moment we met, we were inseparable. Not even her fear of scandal kept us apart because it was clear from day one, from the second we found each other by the vending machine, that we were meant to be friends.

Our relationship was always special. And it never occurred to me that it could have been romantic until Sehun dragged me into that closet, crossed his arms over his chest, cut his eyes at me, and accused me of feeling more.

My mind went blank. No, not blank. Just overwhelmed with reimaginations of Lei— my best friend— that I shook out of my head. My feelings weren’t like that. I mean, they could have been. They were always ambiguous. A heartbeat away from being something that would make Lei run. But I didn’t want Lei to run from me. That was always the most important thing to me; being someone she could count on.

If I liked Lei the way Sehun assumed or feared, he wouldn’t have had to point it out to me in that cold, cramped closet. And even if I had the tiniest crush on Lei, it wouldn’t have compared to whatever emotion set the fire ablaze in Sehun’s eyes.

“Hey.” Sehun snapped his fingers in my face. “Are you going to answer?”

The snapping annoyed me, but Sehun didn’t bother me as much as I clearly bothered him without trying. I wasn’t really a confrontational person, and I definitely wasn’t dumb enough to challenge an official idol as a trainee. There was no option but to answer his questions even though he was determined to doubt me.

Wondering when, where, and why Sehun got so attached to Lei— deciding that he wouldn’t tell me even if I asked— I nodded. “Yeah. She’s my best friend.” I squirmed, remembering his original question. “My intentions with Lei? I don’t have any, I guess—”

It’s like I told you. We became friends so quickly, and I was never really one to map out the future anyway. Still, I had to answer Sehun somehow.

“ — I guess I just want to stay with her for a while. Forever, probably.”

A line formed between Sehun’s eyebrows. “Forever?” He repeated the word like never heard it before.

“Forever,” I said again. Sehun kept looking at me like he wanted me to say something else, so I offered, “If you want, I can ask her if she likes you.” His eyes blew wide, and I almost laughed at having struck the nail on the head.

He grumbled, “That won’t be necessary,” but I could see the pink coloring his cheeks even in the dim lighting, and nothing he said would convince me that he didn’t like her.

“Seriously, it’s not a problem,” I promised. “I’ll just ask her when I go over to her house for our sleepover tonight, and—”

“Sleepover?” He wheezed. All color, even the blush, drained from his face. I nodded, and he shook his head, frowning. “I don’t believe you. I taught Lei better than to have sleepovers. She doesn’t get close to boys like that.”

That was true in most cases, but I was something like a special exception because I would never take the first step in blurring the lines between friendship and— well, I don’t like saying ‘something more’ because I’ve never thought that romantic junk was any better than friendship. I’ve never thought that holding hands or kissing was the ‘next step.’ All I mean is that Lei let me into her world because I never expected to do anything but laugh and watch cartoons.

While reaching for the door, I told Sehun, “She’s close to me.”

There was a tiny change in his expression— like the fire in his eyes flickered— and I knew I said the wrong thing. I couldn’t have taken it back even if I wanted to. One thing was plain to me from the beginning: Sehun didn’t want Lei to be close to me; he wanted her to be close to him. But there was nothing I could do about that.

After that, Sehun glared at me for years. It was obvious that he didn’t like me, but he never said so. I guess he was too polite for that sort of thing. All he said was, “You can go.”

Feeling lucky that he hadn’t yelled at me or punched me in the face— forgetting that I hadn’t actually done anything to bother him in the first place— I hauled ass before Sehun could change his mind. The instructor and other trainees glared at me for being late, but I didn’t really care because it was suddenly obvious why I was Lei’s only close friend. It was obvious why I was the only guy Lei didn’t hide her face from.

Somehow, Sehun taught her to be that way. Guarded. Mistrustful. Lonely. And I wasn’t sure how to forgive him for building the walls that applied to everyone but me— even to good people. I wasn’t sure how to forgive him for causing the wounds that I tried to bandage with laughter. I wasn’t sure if I could.

(Sehun/Donghae texts)

Although Sehun told me not to ask, I had to know if Lei liked him for my own edification. I wasn’t going to try to talk her out of liking him or anything just because I didn’t really like him after the Closet Confrontation as I like to call it.

Because Lei tended to be sensitive about these kinds of things, I approached the topic slowly just in case they had some kind of bad blood. In the months of being her best friend, I had never seen her talk to Sehun, and something in my gut warned me that there had been some kind of falling out.

So I waited until we were alone in an orange tent in the backyard of her house (which was practically mine too) with our plates piled high with s’mores and other snacks provided by her Mom (which was also practically mine too). “So what’s the deal with you and angry brows?”

She raised an eyebrow at me. A corner of her mouth raised slightly. In the beginning, that was the closest she would get to a smile. “Angry brows?” she repeated through a mouthful of melted chocolate and marshmallow.

When our friendship started, I had to talk her into eating junk food, but that night she ate without my urging. I smiled at her progress. “Yeah. Angry brows. You know, Sehun. From EXO.”

“Oh.” Her face turned bright red, and I didn’t have to wonder whether his name was the cause of her blush. Nothing had ever been clearer. Her heart probably fluttered or thundered as she drew her knees up to her chest. “I’ve known Sehun for, like—” she counted out the years on two hands— “seven years.”

“Wow.” I whistled. “That’s a long time.” She nodded. “So he’s, like, your guardian or something!”

“Yeah, he’s something like that.” She pressed her chin atop her polka-dotted pajama pants. “Why do you ask?”

I was almost reluctant to say anything that might threaten an old relationship. Quickly, I explained, “He pulled me into a closet at the agency building today and asked me what my intentions are with you.” Instantly, she frowned, and I rushed to defend Sehun. “I think he was worried that I’m gonna hurt you or something.”

“Well, you’re not,” she said flatly. I would have been happy that she trusted me so much if she had cracked the smallest smile. She dropped a half-eaten s’more onto her plate and combed the braid out of her hair with sticky fingers. “I don’t see how my relationships are any of his business anyway.”

“If you ask me—” I stuffed a s’more into my mouth— “he thinks it’s his business because he likes you.”

Lei choked. “You’re crazy, Lucas!”

“That’s what you always say!” I couldn’t help but laugh at her wide-eyed red-faced expression once she caught her breath because it was an exact copy of the face Sehun made in the closet.

“Do you ever think that I’m right about these kinds of things? I have a better understanding of the male mind, you know.”

“No.” She shook her head. “I don’t think you’re right. I think you’re crazy.”

I playfully argued, stealing the half-s’more from her plate, “Well, maybe I can be crazy and right when I say that Sehun definitely has a thing for you.”

She said, “That’s not funny, Lucas.”

And I swore, “I’m not joking or anything!”

But she wouldn’t believe me. She seemed to be chewing through her cheek when she said, “Sehun has always been too old to like me back. He’ll always be too old for me.”

I didn’t respond immediately. I gave her the chance to reclaim her secrets. But even after moments passed in silence, she didn’t try to deny liking Sehun. Then, when she forced an uncooked marshmallow into her cheek, I realized that it wasn’t a secret. She wasn’t embarrassed. She accepted her feelings and the belief that they would never be returned before we ever met.

Something about that made me sad even though she wasn’t quite frowning. I tried to tell her, “He won’t always be too old.”

“I’m sixteen, and he’s twenty-one,” she said matter-of-factly.

“So what?” I shrugged. “Maybe it’s a big gap right now, but someday, five years will be nothing, and—”

“It doesn’t matter.” She spoke so casually that I almost believed her. I would have believed her if she said it while looking me in the eyes, but her gaze was fixed on the patterns she was tracing on the blanket lining the floor of the tent. “I don’t like him so he’ll like me back. I’m not holding my breath or anything, so—”

She would have told me then and there that she didn’t just like Sehun like any sixteen-year-old might like an older guy. She loved him. We would have stayed up all night recounting all of their memories— the good and the bad ones— had Donghae not poked his head into the tent.

“So you are having a sleepover!” He frowned at us, and I almost felt like I did something wrong.

Mom was nowhere to be seen, but I heard her scold, “Leave my kids alone, Donghae! They’re innocent, and—”

Donghae tore his eyes away from us to stare at Mom as he argued, “A boy is a boy, Manager! We don’t know what his intentions are! He shouldn’t stay here!”

Donghae’s sudden appearance was no longer a mystery to me. Sehun sent him to lecture me because I mentioned the sleepover earlier. He distrusted me so much— or he was so jealous of my friendship with Lei— that he tattled to a member of Super Junior who was practically Lei’s dad. I wasn’t that shocked. I just figured, considering the Closet Confrontation, that Sehun would’ve wanted to confront us himself.

Anyway, the lectures about ‘my intentions’ wouldn’t have been so bad if I had actually been up to no good. They wouldn’t have been so bad if I was really interested in becoming Lei’s boyfriend or something.

After seeing the humiliated look on Lei’s face, I decided to just go back to my dorm. I was standing in the tent when Mom barked, “Lucas is staying, Donghae!” I sat back down. I only needed Mom’s permission to stay. “If you want to chaperone, feel free to set up the other tent.”

Nobody was surprised that Donghae actually went to the trouble to set up the other tent, but I was kind of shocked when he asked Mom if she would chaperone with him. It was an obvious attempt at flirting, but Mom shook her head. She was either uninterested or oblivious enough to respond, “My drama is getting good.”

And I realized that while Donghae might have been genuinely concerned about Lei, he had mostly come to see Mom when he followed her back into the house to watch the drama with her. I didn’t really blame him. Mom was hot.

Anyway, Donghae was in and out of the house, so Lei eagerly dropped the conversation about Sehun. I didn’t try to pick it back up. I didn’t need to. I learned what I wanted to know: whatever feeling Sehun had for her that escaped from his eyes as a glare pointed at me— Lei spilled it on every word she said about him every day until the first Christmas Incident.

Over time, Lei told me how they met by the vending machine, how he made her tenth birthday golden, how he helped her walk through the dark to find Mom after Heechul lost her at the drive-in and how he even stayed to watch Beauty and the Beast with her, how he helped her through trainee days with words of encouragement, how he bought her cotton candy on a trip to Puroland and promised to look out for her always, how he (and Donghae) bought the charm bracelet that I saw on her wrist every day of our friendship to celebrate her debut, how she forced herself out of the habit of following him “like a moth drawn to a flame” after he scolded her at a concert.

And then I understood why he was so protective— possessive, even. I understood that I was wrong to say that Sehun liked her once it was obvious— it was unmistakable— that he loved her. Maybe after knowing somebody that long, you can’t help but love them.

I can’t really tell the difference between, like, ‘brotherly love,’ or ‘friendly love,’ or ‘romantic love,’ and all that. I’ve always thought that love is just love. Wanting what’s best for someone. Some people just express it differently— by holding hands, or kissing, or staying up all night counting the stars, or sharing bouquets of flowers, or watching cartoons first thing in the morning, or laughing until sides split, or hoping for happiness from afar, or wishing to turn back time. Some people try so hard to fit their feelings into boxes, and I wish they wouldn’t. I wish they would understand that it’s impossible. It will only hurt them.

I guess it was easy for me to see that Sehun loved Lei too— probably just as much as she loved him if feelings can be measured like that— because I was an outsider. It always made me sad that Lei couldn’t understand his feelings because, as much as she denied it, she wanted him to love her too. And he did. He just didn’t express it in a way she understood.

I probably couldn’t have helped her to understand even if I tried, but I guess I’ll never know. I never tried to explain Sehun’s feelings because— well— they were his feelings. I didn’t have the words. And it wasn’t my place to speak for him. It was my place to tell Lei, “I think that you should follow him if that would make you happy.”

“That wouldn’t make me happy anymore,” she said, and I thought she was going to cry. “I’m afraid that won’t make me happy ever again.”

So I slung an arm around her shoulders and hugged her because I really, really didn’t want her to cry. “Then wait for him to follow you, Lei.”

She laughed an unamused, airy sort of laugh because she didn’t believe that would ever happen. She didn’t know that the days when Sehun would chase her were just around the corner.

But I did. And it didn’t matter that I wanted somebody less afraid of love for Lei. I wanted those days to start as soon as possible.

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bloody-wonder · 4 years

Note

re: the ask you previously answered about kandreil, do you think — aside from shippers having overly aggressive approaches sometimes —interpreting anything romantic or sexual in the text with Kevin and Neil erases Neil’s demisexuality? I’ve always been unsure of that as I’m not a-spec, and I know that there are a-spec aftg fans who ship kandreil but I’ve never seen a discussion about Neil’s demisexuality specifically regarding it. Not sure I’m wording this right, just curious what you think.

well it’s a good and complicated question!

i’ve been thinking about it for the last couple of days and instead of giving a clear and concise answer i’m going to acesplain demisexuality and canonsplain neil josten in another lengthy post.

so there are two components to this question - 1) whether kevineil interactions are romantic or sexual 2) whether asserting that they are erases neil’s demisexuality.

1) so first of all kevineil is where the aroace dogma “relationships can be intense without being romantic or sexual and interpreting every such relationship as potentially romantic or sexual erases the experiences of many (not only) arospec/aspec people” clashes with the shipping culture dogma “these two characters glanced at each other once or had an ambiguous dialogue or both like bread and are therefore with a 95% probability already in love”. what can i say to people who think neil has romantic or sexual feelings for kevin? should i shout “people can be friends you guys are just brainwashed” at them? that seems very unproductive. this is a debate that can never be won but still i’d like to remark that interpreting kevineil interactions as romantic or sexual has more to do with this acquired urge to interpret all intense interactions as such than with what’s actually going on between the two. (bUt ThEy WeRe CaNoN iN tHe eArLiEr DrAfTs - i don’t know what you’re talking about, i’m talking about the three books that constitute aftg). i on the contrary rejoice in their romance-less dynamic and firmly believe that they wouldn’t be together even if neil weren’t demi. because some people are just friends. if neil weren’t demi it wouldn’t also be considered in any way problematic to ship kandreil, but neil is and some people like you begin to wonder - because now a rare “endangered” sexuality is involved.

2) i personally want to say yes, interpreting neil’s thoughts about kevin and interactions with him as they are presented in the books as sexual erases neil’s demisexuality - the key word being neil’s.

because demisexuality is a spectrum in itself and many aspec people will experience it differently. how strong an emotional bond does a demi need to have with a person in order to feel sexually attracted to them? it can be anything on the range from once in a lifetime soulmate to basically any person they know and like well enough. this lower side of the spectrum is where the line between demi- and allosexuality gets blurred and is probably also the reason why lots of people deny that demisexuality exists, seeing as they also usually get attracted mostly to people they know and like well enough.

anyway i suppose it’s more common for an average demi person to have had one or more of those emotional bonds that result in attraction by certain age even in order to identify as demi. so i imagine a lot of aspec fans who ship neil with foxes other than andrew, project their experience of demisexuality onto him. if you’re someone who identifies as demi, has deep emotional connection with several of your friends and feels attracted to them, you will probably want the very rare specimen of a fictional demi to have experiences similar to your own. if you’re also a kevin fan and are fascinated by the idea of kandreil, then you’re going to ship it without any concern of erasing anything. “neil’s demi and i’m demi so therefore anything i feel or do concerning sexual attraction he must feel and do as well”.

but neil’s version of demisexuality is quite different. based on andreil it really looks like he’s higher on the ace spectrum than that. even when he reaches the point where he’s like yep andrew is totally the person whom i’d let riko torture me for he still isn’t attracted to him sexually and only when andrew explicitly shows that it’s something he’s interested in does neil begin to explore the idea. when he knows he’s attracted to andrew he specifically checks if he’s able to think of his other male teammates in that way and the answer is no. but the most important thing about neil figuring out his sexuality in my opinion is the fact that he never defines himself as someone who “swings” at any person he establishes a profound connection with, but rather as someone who’s attracted only to andrew. (i’m not even sure if neil would use the demi label if he knew about it). he literally says “the only one i’m interested in is you”. so his situation looks much more like “once in a lifetime soulmate” one to me.

so the question is where do you begin to interpret neil’s sexuality? if you begin with the text then you’ll perceive him as someone who’s attracted to nobody at first and then only to andrew. (haha that’s some very wishful thinking on my part - see the shipping dogma above). but if you begin with your preconceived notions about the demi label then you might expect neil to form those special bonds that enable him to feel sexual attraction as often as you like. maybe if an average demi person was in neil’s place they would end up getting attracted to more foxes. but neil isn’t average, he isn’t a stand-in for the entire demi-dom, he’s a very specific person with a specific way of forming connections with people which is why if you want to write him in character i think it’s much more productive to take into account his personality as it’s showcased in the books than to research what demisexuality is or to self-project. so in the end what’s happening here is really not people erasing neil’s demisexuality by shipping him with this or that character but rather them erasing his canon personality by making him do the things he wouldn’t do.

that being said, fanfic is definitely the place for self-projecting and exploring things that aren’t canon. there are multiple ways to write demi neil in kandreil or other ships ranging from rewriting the canon and increasing the amount and quality of neil’s interactions with the new love interest to doing the same in post-canon to writing an au where they all come from different circumstances and nothing matters. the commonality between these types of story is that they all will be about a different version of neil with a different version of demisexuality which is just the way of fandom life and is perfectly normal.

however what i’ve been observing in post-canon kandreil fics is that the absolute majority of them are established relationship which means that their authors and readers think that whatever happens in the books between kevin and neil is enough for neil to form an emotional bond powerful enough to feel attracted to him (provided they at all agree that neil’s demi because if they don’t it’s a different kind of erasure discourse altogether). but that is just not true and totally erases neil’s demisexuality the way he experiences it. but can i really point out this particular facet of his personality being thrown over board when so many other facets get discarded along the way? neil is probably the aftg character whose canon personality gets misunderstood, ignored and rewritten the most. if a neil from some kandreil fic is a sweet peaceful gentle boi then what does it matter to me that he’s already kevin’s bf? it’s not the neil i know from the books. if neil’s canon personality isn’t important or appealing to this fic’s author then it’s only logical that the specific way neil experiences demisexuality won’t be important to them as well.

tl;dr: apart from those fans who don’t think neil’s demi and write him as allo, do kandreil shippers erase neil’s demisexuality? not necessarily. but do they rewrite the way neil experiences sexual attraction to better fit their ship? probably yes.

i want to end this by a disclaimer: like i said, i’m an aroace person talking about demisexuality which isn’t strictly my identity. andreil is very important to me as an ace because it reflects my personal understanding of relationships. of course andreil’s “once in a lifetime” soulmate situation speaks more to me as a person who doesn’t feel any kind of attraction and generally has trouble connecting to people beyond that. i can’t relate to most relationships i see in fiction because they are founded on attraction which is a language i don’t understand, so nora writing andreil in a language i could understand was a pretty big deal to me. consequently i feel very sceptical towards all other ships including kandreil because my views of romance are ace, not even demi. so basically i’m biased too.

#neil josten #demisexuality #kevin day #andrew minyard #all for the game #aftg mine #asks #i don't even want to tell how long i've been writing this monstrosity #is this jumble of words intelligible at all?#idc anymore #gonna go reblog some gifsets now #i earned it #aftg ask

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aspoonofsugar · 4 years

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Hello! I was recently re-reading the Hisoka vs Chrollo fight and i’m left with so many questions e.g why did Chrollo explain all of his new nen abilities to Hisoka at the start of the match, why does Hisoka suddenly change his approach towards the troupe after the fight, etc? Also, how do you think the fight ties into the larger themes of the story. It does take place in heaven’s arena and the audience gets heavily mixed up in it so those might be clues. Sorry if this is too long 😅 thank you

Hello anon!

Sorry for the wait!

Chrollo and Hisoka’s fight tells us multiple things about both characters. I will make some references to these two metas.

What is interesting is that both Chrollo and Hisoka are two characters who objectify both others and themselves, but their fight shows they do not take it much well when someone else objectifies them.

When it comes to both Hisoka and Chrollo objectifying others, I think this is very well shown through the powers and the tricks used by both characters during their battle.

On one hand Chrollo uses a total of five different powers throughout the battle (excluding the book and the bookmark which are his own abilities). He used Black Voice, The Sun and Moon, Order Stamp, Gallery Fake and Convert Hands.

These powers highlight different aspects of Chrollo’s character.

Convert Hands lets him take someone else’s appearance and change others’ appearances as well. All in all, it is a power Chrollo uses to camouflage himself while in a crowd. The alternatice name of the ability is Transfer Student and it is interesting because it suggests the idea of someone new which wants to fit in. All in all, it is easy to see how such an ability would have been useful to its previous owner for infiltration and for spying others. It could be effective also in hiding and in losing pursuers. In Chrollo’s case, it might be seen as a hint to his frail sense of identity, which I have talked about in the meta about him and Kurapika:

Chrollo says confusely that the reason he is killing is to find himself. This makes sense considering his past: he was born without an identity and his relationship with the outside was one where there was a risk of things getting stolen from him. So in an attempt to interact with the outside he reversed this relationship and made himself being the one stealing from others.

And I have touched the topic in these other two metas as well. In short, Chrollo’s sense of self is frail at best and this is why he tries to compensate by stealing from others:

Only to get immediately bored by what he stole and to give it away:

Only to start stealing again and more.

All in all, the ability to change his own appearance by taking another person’s fits with this pattern of behaviour. In a sense, he is just like a transfer student (an outcast) who can not really fit into the world and this is why he tries to find himself in others. However, at the same time, he does not respect others as individuals, but only as things:

In short, both Neon and Chrollo have probably lived an empty life to an extent and this emptiness has led them to see others in an utilitaristic way. This utilitaristic vision is symbolized by Neon and Chrollo’s attempts to gain happiness through them collecting “others”. However, for the both of them this is not how they are supposed to give meaning to their lives. In order to grow they should interact with others and learn from them and they should have started with each other. However, this chance was wasted.

He sees them as sources of other powers and at the same time his pursue of new powers is probably born by his interest in people:

This utilitaristic approach to people is well expressed through the second power of Convert Hadns which lets him turn others in Hisoka’s targets by making them look like himself.

What is more, Chrollo’s manipulative nature is conveyed also by two other abilities he used in the fight aka Black Voice and Order stamp. These two abilities are compared and contrasted by Chrollo himself:

Black Voice lets Chrollo give more specific orders, but has the limitation of only working on two people, while Order Stamp doesn’t work on living people, but it does on fakes and can be used to control many subjects at the same time.

So, which kind of manipulator is Chrollo? I would say that he is neither like Shalnark nor like the person who created Order Stamp. In short, he sees others as objects, but what he wants to do with these “objects” is not really to completely control their movements, but rather:

As stated above, Chrollo is genuinely curious about others, but he is not really able/doesn’t care to forge genuine relationships with them, so he simply steals parts of them, closes them into a book and studies them.

In the battle, he attempts to do the same with Hisoka, not in the sense that he wants to steal his power, but in the sense that he treats Hisoka as a case study rather than an opponent. He closes Hisoka in a specific scenario and sees how he reacts. This is also why he explains the abilities to him:

He makes clear what abilities he is going to use, so that he can test how much Hisoka will be able to infer from his explanation.

At the same time, Chrollo is basically able to use this explanation to trick Hisoka:

As a matter of fact he tells Hisoka that The Sun and Moon is an ability whose nen has been made stronger by the death of its creator. Because of this, Hisoka infers that, once Chrollo puts the marks on an object, they will stay active even if the book is closed. However, the true trick used by Chrollo is to use the mark to make so that the copies created by Gallery Fake can remain active even when this power is deactivated thanks to the marks of the sun and the moon put on them.

In short, Chrollo explaining the abilities he is gonna use to Hisoka has a double function.

It has a practical function in the sense that he uses his explanation to confuse Hisoka and to make Hisoka focus on the wrong aspect of his powers, so that he partially misinterprets them.

It has an experimental function since Chrollo wants to see how Hisoka will react to his explanation. He wants to see if he will stil accept the challenge knowing how much at a disadvantage he is and if he will be able to understand the true nature of Chrollo’s abilities.

In other words we can say that the essence of Chrollo’s power is to properly understand how an ability works, its strong points and its weak points and also its hidden aspects. It is by experimenting with each ability that Chrollo becomes able to use every ability he has in new and unconventional ways. In the fight, he has basically challenged Hisoka to keep up with him when it comes to this and oc Hisoka can’t completely keep up because this is Chrollo’s speciality.

In short, Chrollo sets up the fight, so that Hisoka is naturally at a disadvantage. This is also highlighted by Chrollo being the one who chooses the time and place. The whole arena becomes for Chrollo an experimental site he has closed Hisoka in to conduct his studies. At the same time, all the people in the arena become tools for Chrollo to use to his advantage.

However, Chrollo has made a miscalculation:

The Heaven Arena where the fight happens is not the “real world” to put it in Hisoka’s terms. The arena is a very specific place with specific rules and even if Chrollo and Hisoka twisted those rules in their death match, it has remained a place with specific limitations. This is why in the end Hisoka tells Machi this:

It is not about choosing a better time and place, but not to let others choose the time and place. Hisoka is doing what he said he would have done with Gon aka he is taking the battle in the real world. The real world has no limitations like the arena and in the real world there are people Chrollo cares about like the other members of the Spider.

As a matter of fact the death of Shalnark and Kortopi can be seen as retribution to Chrollo’s behaviour. Let’s consider this:

The old man and Chrollo can be seen as parallels in a sense. The old man used to have an utilitaristic vision of others to the point that he had no exhitation into turning his own comrades into bombs. Chrollo agrees with the old man’s vision of humans and in a sense he too has weaponized his comrades since he asked two of them to lend them their abilities. What is interesting is that Chrollo clearly cares about his friends and he was even ready to give them their abilities back, but his willingness to make use of them and mess with Hisoka is what led to their deaths.

In conclusion, we can say that Chrollo messed with Hisoka and humiliated him. He tried to reduce Hisoka to a funny experiment and now he is facing the consequences of this behaviour by having two of his friends die.

Let’s now focus on Hisoka. He too wants to objectify Chrollo:

He wants to dominate him as an opponent and to use Chrollo to literally get excited:

It is not a mystery that Hisoka mixes sexual attraction, love and fighting:

Bungee-Gum is a power which mirrors this specific part of Hisoka’s personality and it’s not by chance that this power’s alternative name is Elastic Love. Hisoka’s elastic and sticky gum is nothing more, but a metaphor for the unhealthy obsession Hisoka shows for whoever is strong enough to challenge him. An obsession which can go to unthinkable lengths, like joining a dangerous criminal group to get the chance to challenge its leader. If Illumi lives his relationships purely in an utilitaristic and manipulative way, Hisoka seems to blur the lines among love, sexual attraction and fighting.

What is more, he mixes fighting, sex attraction and love because he himself is not really able to interact with people in any other way. He is like Chrollo, but while Chrollo sees others like funny beings to study, Hisoka sees them as things he can fight and destroy.

This is made clear in the battle as well:

Hisoka, like Chrollo, ends up using people as prompts and weapons against his opponent. While Chrollo uses manipulation to subjugate people’s will and the chaos to his advantage, Hisoka literally uses people bodies and severed body parts and launches them against Chrollo.

Chrollo is a child who makes smart experiments with its toys to see what happens, while Hisoka is the child who enjoys breaking his toys.

However, this time Hisoka is not really able to break Chrollo and actually ends up as the one being played with as explained above.

It is pretty interesting that this happens at the Heaven Arena aka the place Hisoka’s nen was revealed to us for the first time and also the place Hisoka showed his true strength.

It is especially interesting because in a sense Chrollo and Hisoka’s fight plays out in the opposite ways the fight between Hisoka and Castro did.

Both times Hisoka faces off against an opponent he has helped in the past for the sake of a future match. As a matter of fact he fougth Castro and awoke his nen without killing or damaging him, so that he could grow stronger and fight him in the future. Similarly, he helped Chrollo find a jonen expert, so that he could have his nen back. In both cases Hisoka obtains what he wants and faces respectively Castro and Chrollo.

What is more, both fights start with his opponent gaining the upper hand, but while he is ultimately able to win against Castro he loses badly to Chrollo. What is more, in both fights the victory is decided by the ability of better understanding the powers involved. As a matter of fact Castro did not really understand his own nen ability, while Chrollo perfectly understands both his and others’ to the point that it doesn’t matter if he tells Hisoka his abilities or not. Tbh, this is another contrast between the two fights. In the one against Castro, Hisoka’s main problem is to figure out Castro’s powers which immediately lose their efficiency once they are discovered. When he fights Chrollo, however, Hisoka is informed by his opponent of the powers he will use before the fight even starts and he still loses.

In short, Hisoka loses in what has basically been his former turf and this makes so that he reacts strongly.

Specifically, he reacts this way:

After his fight with Chrollo Hisoka started to move to make all his few and precarious relationships spiral into chaos. He decided to go actively against Chrollo by targetting what he cares for the most. At the same time he refused Machi’s offer to stitch him up and so changed their usual dynamic. Moreover, he asked Illumi to join the spiders, so that he can fight him as well. So in this short period of time Hisoka went out of his way to make his own equilibrium crumble and to accellerate the progression of his own relationships toward a death fight which is the ending he himself had programmed since the beginning, but that he seemed not to be in a hurry to reach until recently.

What’s interesting about this is that this development happened after a death-experience Hisoka managed to overcome thanks to his own strength and his nen. This experience happens immediately after Gon’s one has been resolved thanks to Killua and Nanika. However, if Gon’s reaction to his almost-death is to stop temporally and rethink himself and his relationships with others and to realize how much these people mean for him.

Hisoka’s own reaction is to accellerate things and to destroy all of what he built. So maybe it’s not casual that, while Gon can’t currently use his nen, Hisoka has basically become his nen:

He is alive not because of someone else’s power (like Gon is), but because of his Bunjee-Gum which makes his lungs and heart work and of which his limbs are currently made of. However, Hisoka’s Bunjee-Gum is, as previously said, a representation of his twisted way of interacting with others and so we have Hisoka currently warping his relationships even more than before.

In short Hisoka wanted to make use of Chrollo, but he ended up used and now he wishes to take revenge on Chrollo and this is why he is attacking the spiders. He is even mocking Chrollo in the sense that, just like Chrollo explained him his powers before the fight, he lets Machi alive, so that she can inform Chrollo of Hisoka’s intentions.

I would also like to highlight that Hisoka using post-mortem nen can be seen as a parallel to Gon’s vow against Pitou. In that battle, Gon was ready to die in order to win, while Hisoka knew he could not win and did everything he could to survive. What is more, Gon losing Kite to Pitou led him into a spiral where he hurt both himself and others. Right now, we can say that losing against Chrollo might have started a similar process in Hisoka. Hisoka felt defeated and he is reacting to this sense of defeat just like Gon reacted to the sense of powerlessness he felt when fighting Pitou the first time. Hisoka keeps confirming himself as a darker mirror of Gon.

Basically, the fight between Hisoka and Chrollo is not over and it has simply changed setting.Moreover, there is what @hamliet said in one of our conversations:

For Chrollo, Hisoka lost because he was alone (Chrollo was using other abilities). Yet, Chrollo's Troupe has now become his weakness (Hisoka's using them to shake Chrollo mentally).

As you can see, they are both hurting each other where it is most painful and they are going at each other’s weak spot. For Hisoka, Chrollo attacks his pride and defeats him in a one vs one match. For Chrollo, Hisoka hurts the people closest to him and who are at the centre of Chrollo’s own self and identity.

These are my thoughts on their fight! Thank you for the ask and sorry for the late reply!

#hxh #hxh meta #hisoka morow #chrollo lucilfer #asksfullofsugar #anonymous

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astrologysvt · 4 years

Text

Chart First Impressions - Vernon

For more SVT astrology posts, follow my blog! Check out my masterlist to see all the readings I’ve done so far and what I’ve got coming up! 💫

This is just a very general reading of the member’s charts — the parts that popped out to me, things I personally liked, things I thought were interesting or contrary to the image I have of them. I’m not looking at anything in particular with each reading. Some of their readings may be more aspect focused, where some may just focus solely on their personal planets and their signs. If you have any questions on specific aspects or want to request a more specific reading, feel free to send me an ask!

two aquarians down, one more to go.

so i do feel the need to explain why i’m not here arguing why i think vernon or even dk may be either a pisces/aquarius sun.

(tho tbh if either of them were to lean towards pisces, i think it’d be vernon).

but really for me it just comes down to the fact they feel very clearly aquarian.

with woozi, his energies were a lot more vague/muddled and harder to organize where as it’s a lot simpler and cleaner a break with these two aqua/pisces cusps.

generally, aqua and pisces influences feel very different to me.

for me to consider them more pisces, i would be looking for them to appear much more yielding within a group and i don’t get that sense.

i’d also be looking for a certain degree of people-pleasing, or at least a strong courtesy towards how they contribute to the room’s energy. an aqua wouldn’t be as conscientious of this. they may be aware of it, but they wont let themselves be inhibited by it. where as a pisces would be hyper aware of this and very cautious.

not only that, but i’m not looking charts that would be void of explanation on either sign/element’s influence if they leaned either way.

woozi had no other scorpio in his chart if his sun wasn’t in scorpio.

where as with vernon, regardless of whether he’s an aqua or pisces sun, he’s still got a strong aqua and pisces influence in his chart to begin with so his reading wouldn’t be drastically different if he turned out to be a pisces sun.

similar with dk, where as his cancer influence in tandem with his aqua and libra would make it so the rest of his reading wouldn’t be horribly compromised.

if either one of them were to end up being a pisces sun, my reading of them would still be very similar just reorganized.

where as with jihoon, it was an entirely different story.

so it’s a mixture of pisces and aquas being a lot easier to differentiate than sag/scorpio, and also their charts having both influences in their other personal planets that i’m not too stressed about figuring their suns out.

but lets focus back on vernon.

his sun and mercury is in aqua.

i think vernon exemplifies exactly what i expect with an aquarius — like picture perfect artsy-brand aquarius.

his style (for one) has been so clearly created by him without any regard with what everyone else is doing.

and i think this is an important distinction to make with aquarians.

a lot of people like to think that aquarians like to be contrary for the sake of being contrary, and tbh i do know enough aquarians to know that sometimes that IS the case (but i dunno i think they just like messing with me)

but i do genuinely believe that when it comes to art and their work, the stuff that they do is genuinely so unique and out there because that’s just how their mind’s work.

for example, if you’re looking at a painting you’re generally going to focus on the focal points of them. the subject, the name of the painting, the artist, maybe context if ur interested. you’re going to take the evidence given to you to try and form a linear narrative. you’re going to focus on what you think the painter wants you to notice.

whereas an aquarius is naturally drawn elsewhere, maybe the background. maybe they’re noticing how it looks with the other paintings around it, or how the light is hitting it. maybe their placing the painting in a wild alternative universe and creating a story around it.

they’re less concerned with building a narrative around what the painter is trying to show, and is more concerned with finding new, uncovered things about it.

and that’s kinda a very vague glimpse into how aquarians build these crazy alternative worlds and perspectives they live in.

aquarians are a very progressive sign, this is certainly because they have a strong set of principles that lean very humanitarian.

but it’s also because they simply hate whatever may threaten one’s ability to exert autonomy over themselves, their expression, and how people perceive/treat them.

whether it’s them personally, or generally, or symbolically.

i don’t think it’s a direct correlation (like he thinks this way because he’s an aquarian) but when he was on happy together and they were talking about how his korean was very good and he was like “i mean, i AM korean.”

this is a very aquarian thing to want to blur the lines, and encourage people around them too approach these potentially hard to understand concepts simply and a matter-of-factly.

(tho i think in this specific instance he was really just combating the perception that he was more foreign to the MCs than he actually was).

anyway, back to aquas being lovable weirdos.

i like to think that the many ways aquas like to present themselves isn’t just for show/for the sake of being different.

sometimes it certainly takes a very physical/in your face form such as with fashion, but i like to think that they dress and act the way they do because they like being in the state of opposition and friction.

by having this imagine of themselves reflected back to them in how drastically different the other side is, that is something that both gives them excitement as well as a sense of comfort through purpose and identity.

they like sticking out because it’s a declaration of their character.

not only that, but they love the ease of just doing what they want without having to think or feel the weight of “what is everyone else going to think?”

that freedom is very important to them.

how interesting is it tho that we’ve got two aqua suns with water moons??

vernon’s scorpio moon is gonna be VERY different from dk’s cancer moon.

as social as an aqua can be in concept, they can really and honestly go either way.

either they are the popular kid whose in every extracurricular and is student council president, or they’re the kid sitting in the corner who just doodles all day in class.

you throw in a scorpio moon and it really makes him a pretty solitary guy.

extreme lone wolf vibes.

he likes being by himself, and it’s partially cuz the world is loud and his mind is entertaining in and of itself, and partially him being an incredibly independent and self-sufficient person.

he’s got the least social chart in all of seventeen, and any anti-social behaviors he may have simply come from the fact that looking outwards to others is not in his immediate logic.

it’s not in his muscle memory.

if he gets excited about a project, he’s probably going to lock himself up in his room and burry himself in it, as opposed to getting others involved.

“i need to get something? great i can leave right now.”

he doesn’t think to ask others if they wanna go because they aren’t a part of his immediate checklist that’s integral to his day/wellbeing.

his energies churn inwardly, and this is also why you find him just sitting around staring into space.

not because he doesn’t want to talk to people or doesn’t care about people, but because he’s very comfortable living in his mind and simply doesn’t care to experiment too much with his immediate effect on the world around him.

you take someone like jun who has so much energy bubbling in him, he can’t help but start doing things just to see what will happen and how people will react.

vernon may have a similar curiosity, but it’s much more imaginative, abstract, and isolated. he can play out those scenarios in his mind.

and this has many facets to it: his aqua influence makes him inventive and original in his thoughts where he as absolutely no shortage of daydream material. you throw in that pisces mars that is half daydreaming all the time, and that scorpio moon that makes him very intentionally reserved/independent and you’ve got vernon.

so vernon’s scorpio moon is everything we’ve talked about before about water moons: empathetic, intuitive, sensitive.

i think his scorpio moon is more interesting because of the darkness that a scorpio influence implies.

there’s a alarming depth from where his emotions rise from, which is surprising considering how chill he seems outwardly.

when it comes to his emotions, whatever it is, he wants them unabashed and unfiltered. no shame whatsoever.

this is due to his scorpio influence’s desire for authenticity, but also his aqua influence’s deep dislike for the superficial.

this would make him very discerning and generally pretty good at knowing when someone is trying to manipulate him, though his pisces mars may confuse him here and there.

he’d really be great for any deep, wild, out-there, maybe even taboo conversations you may wanna have.

pretty much anything would be on the table.

this is because his aqua influence would be prepared to entertain anything and everything, and is equally prepared take it seriously as you do.

while his scorpio moon isn’t particularly afraid of whatever you may bring up, and is pretty attracted to the more out-there topics.

it’d honestly just take a lot to really freak him out, and he’s really just open/excited to entertain any random idea you may have.

even if he reacts viscerally or even negatively, he’s still very slow to write something off.

his scorpio moon is sextile his cap venus

this softens his chart up a little bit, may mellow out his out-there qualities and give him a greater appreciation for more classy & romantic things.

this makes him more fluid in his interactions with people than his forthright aqua and unyielding scorpio may connote.

wonwoo has this same aspect, too, actually.

this would make him much more dynamic and flexible in how he expresses/receives affection.

would certainly also make him a lot more dedicated and stable in relationships than a aqua/pisces influence may imply where normally aqua wants independence and pisces may not be as present.

then you also have his scoprio moon trine pisces mars.

this is the aspect that really turns this chart upside down on it’s head imo.

aqua, scorpio, cap? they sound ready to fight at the drop of the hat.

but you have water meeting water in this trine, and this very seamless exchange of energies between emotion and action really turns him into this amazing peace-keeper because of how level-headed it makes him.

i think i remember they were talking in svt club about how vernon never gets angry, and if he gets angry it’s probably because other people are fighting and he’s like.

“i don’t get this. why?”

this is because he really doesn’t understand how people can get so swept by emotion that they’d start arguing with each other.

and he feels this way because, with a harmonious aspect between moon and mars, energy flows through him incredibly smoothy and easily.

good, bad, sad, excited. all that fun stuff flows through him and doesn’t experience much of a road block, and so with that he’s not only very familiar with the passing of these emotions, but he’s able to process and regulate them pretty easily without trying.

this would make him that excitable, expressive, reactive vernon we know and love because the emotions just flow through him.

but this would also mean that, because of that, he understands how to ride the waves of his emotions so that they don’t end up sweeping him in their undercurrent.

so when people do get into these heated arguments, he struggles to understand why they’d handle it in certain ways.

with that being said, he does have his moon square mercury which means he isn’t the BEST at communicating his thoughts on this matter.

he wants to so badly to put everything he feels into comprehensible words and concepts because of his aqua mercury.

but that aqua mercury may make his viewing/expression too far reaching to understand, while his scorpio moon may make his emotions hard to grasp and translate in the first place.

at the end of the day, his way of thinking is far too intuitive and abstract to put into words.

so, lmao, don’t invite him to mediate ur next fight. he’ll probs just confuse you both.

but if you need someone to chill with to cool you off and calm you down? he’s great because all that water turns him into this fantastic shock-absorber, and as i said before, his aqua/scorpio means that almost anything is on the table.

the last thing i’ll talk about is his pisces mars!

he’s a gentle, gentle boy.

if it wasn’t obvious enough already, there really isn’t a single angry bone in his body (that’s an exaggeration, we’re all capable of anger).

but he has such a gentle approach to life thanks to this pisces mars, and he goes about this with such sincerity and it’s so unfiltered and out there that you can’t help but appreciate how earnest he is, no matter how weird at the same time.

this would also turn his aquarian interest in a much more creative direction.

i know he said he can’t draw, but he has such a strong knack for creative thinking with that unique aqua and his pisces mars giving him a very fluid means of expression and deep understanding of artistic nuance.

everything he does, even if he’s not particularly good at, will have his signature stamp because he has such a great outlet for him to express his super strong, aquarian sense of self.

(and that, in and of itself, is an artistic feat).

super empathetic, a lot more emotional than he lets on.

but again, due to his moon’s harmonious aspects, even with all that deadpan and logical aqua, emotions are never ultra-abrasive to him so it’s genuinely really hard to catch an extreme emotion out of him unless he’s in a negative place generally.

he just gets emotions, and if he doesn’t understand them immediately he knows how to sit with them and live in them.

a very healing person to be around.

#svt #seventeen #vernon #hansol #hansol vernon chwe #kpop astrology #i would like to adopt vernon as my little brother pls

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fandom-smut-shots · 5 years

Text

Kaoru Hitachiin - Stargazing

Stargazing – Kaoru Hitachiin

SuicidalConnorMurphy

A/N: Male!reader. High school AU.

Words: 2,517

A contented sigh tumbled from your lips as you gazed up at the clear night sky. Stars had only just begun to decorate the field of midnight blue, allowing you to count each and every new appearance. Winter had faded, making way for spring to approach, so the nights were slowly but surely growing warmer and more pleasant.

It wasn’t too late- with winter came earlier sunsets and longer nights- but you felt as though time stood still as you sat on a swing in the park. Your eyes were closed, your head tilted up towards the sky. Your arms were limp by your sides, your feet softly dragging the ground beneath you. Everything was calm, serene, peaceful.

In the silence of the night, you could hear footsteps slowly approaching, and your heartbeat quickened. You froze in place, prepared for an attacker to attempt abduction. The footsteps drew closer until you were certain they were just to your left, and you braced yourself for a quick escape.

Until a soft sigh was heard, and the chains of the swing beside you squeaked softly in protest of being strained.

Opening one eye, you glanced to your left, stifling a gasp in surprise at the sight that met you. Sitting on the swing was one Kaoru Hitachiin, spoiled rich kid and Ouran Academy heartthrob. Looking at him fully, you couldn’t help but tilt your head and wonder what business he had sitting in the park at night, without his escort or his guard or even his twin brother.

“Hitachiin?” you called gently. No one called the upperclassmen by first name, as much as you wanted to. “Kaoru” was such an adorable name, and it wasn’t as though the rich students tried to hide their identities. It was just a sign of respect, referring to them by their surnames until you were granted exclusive permission to call them something more intimate.

The orange-haired boy opened his eyes and turned to meet your gaze. To your surprise, he offered you a lazy smile. This soft side of the younger Hitachiin twin puzzled you – he was normally loud, flamboyant, giggly, friendly. He wasn’t a jerk like the other rich kids, and he was definitely the kinder of the twins.

“Hey, (l/n),” he greeted. A shiver snaked its way down your spine at the sound of his voice calling your name, and despite sharing nearly all of your classes with him, you felt a twinge of surprise that he knew who you were.

“What, uh… What are you doing out here?” you couldn’t help but inquire. From what you understood, the rich kids had a strict schedule to keep, usually set in stone by their parents. You didn’t know any of them on a personal enough level to understand the details, but what little you had been made privy to was enough to have you appreciating your humble background. Many of the upperclassmen, especially the kind ones like Hitachiin and Suoh, only made friends through their money. Other students abused their connections, and once their parties were over and their requirements were met, they never spoke to their so-called “friends” again.

Hitachiin chuckled softly, as though the answer were obvious. “Enjoying the stars.”

You were hesitant to question further. A million thoughts swirled through your head, but you felt as though you had no right to voice them. Though, you supposed, he could always leave if he was uncomfortable or offended by your curiosity.

“I can see that,” you countered. “I just meant-“

“What’s a spoiled trust fund kid doing out past curfew, sitting in the park without an escort?” he finished for you, and you were grateful for the darkness and its ability to hide the blush crawling up your neck.

“Uh… yeah.”

He chuckled again, his gaze turning up to the sky. You couldn’t help but follow suit.

“My parents don’t know I’m out here,” he murmured softly, as though it were a secret – which it probably was. “My brother doesn’t even know. I wait until everyone in the house is asleep; Hikaru, our parents, our bodyguards, the maids. Then I come out here to look at the stars.”

“Why?” you asked before you could stop yourself.

He turned his eyes back towards you again, and you felt yourself growing weak the longer you looked into them. “It’s peaceful. I don’t have to be Mr. Hitachiin out here. I don’t have to be Hikaru’s brother, or the heir to the Hitachiin business, or the upperclassman that everyone only wants to befriend because he has money.”

Your heart ached with sympathy. “I’m sorry you have to endure that,” you murmured. “I don’t know what it’s like, obviously, but… If you ever need to talk about anything…”

You trailed off, dropping your gaze to your lap. What would the attractive Kaoru Hitachiin want to talk to you for, anyway?”

His swing squealed as he rose to his feet, and you tried to hide a wince. You’d scared him away. Your once chance at getting to know who he really was, and you’d ruined it.

A hand entered your peripheral vision, and you turned your head to view it fully. Hitachiin stood beside you, arm extended, palm open, a soft smile on his lips. You hesitantly placed your hand in his, noting with butterflies dancing through your core how warm it was. As you stood, you hesitantly met his eyes, catching the way they sparkled despite the lack of light around you.

“I should go,” he whispered. “I try not to venture out for too long. Hikaru can sense when I’m gone.”

You nodded dumbly, hanging onto his every word. “I’m sorry if I said anything out of line-“

He held up a hand, and you closed your mouth. “You said nothing wrong, (l/n). I was actually thinking… Maybe I could see you again? Tomorrow night, same time?”

Your heart nearly broke out of your chest, and you offered another nod. “Y-yeah. That sounds great.”

He grinned. “Awesome. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“See you tomorrow,” you managed before he turned on his heel and took off away from the park.

The following night, you waited patiently at the park, sitting in the same swing you had before. You chewed your lip absent-mindedly as you gazed up at the stars, hoping against all hope that Hitachiin would really come back.

You heard footsteps behind you and, unable to contain your excitement, you turned around to face your companion. You saw him approaching and stood from your swing, waiting for him to get close enough for you to greet him.

“Hey, (l/n),” he beamed.

“Hey, Hitachiin,” you returned.

He approached the swings, but instead of sitting down, you reached for his hand. Confused, he offered his own, and you ignored the tingle that spread through your limbs as your fingers brushed his.

“How about we sit on the field?” you suggested. “It has a better view of the stars.”

He grinned and nodded his approval, letting you lead him across the park to the large field that families often used for kite flying or frisbee throwing. You sat down, crossing your legs and gently tugging him to follow suit. He complied, instead stretching his legs out before him, sitting much closer to you than you had anticipated.

“You’re right,” he purred softly. “This is much nicer.”

You gulped softly, nodding before turning to gaze up at him. “So I-I didn’t offend you yesterday, right?”

He shook his head. “Not at all. It was actually kind of nice to talk to someone who wanted to know the real me, not the rich Hitachiin offspring.”

“I’ve never cared much for money,” you shrugged. “It doesn’t make a person.”

He smiled softly. “What’s your story, then? I’ve seen you around, you know, hanging out with Haruhi.”

You stared at him with wide eyes, wondering how he knew your best friend and how Haruhi could have not mentioned that she and the cutest boy in school were on a first-name basis.

“Haruhi?” you repeated. “Yeah, I’ve known her since grade school. We kind of grew up together.”

There was a glimmer of sadness in the taller boy’s eyes. “That sounds nice.”

“Do you not have… childhood friends?” you asked, wincing at how harsh your words sounded.

Hitachiin didn’t seem to notice as he shook his head. “The only person I’ve grown up with is Hikaru. Our mom was… strict, regarding our day-to-day lives. We didn’t even have casual friends – still don’t.”

“That’s awful,” you murmured.

He was quiet, and you took a moment to admire him. His soft eyes were blurred with a mix of emotions, his strong jawline seemed tight as though he were biting his tongue.

“If you’d like,” you began softly, shyly glancing down at your lap, “I could be your friend.”

He turned to look at you, frowning when you wouldn’t meet his eyes. His soft hand grasped your chin, tilting your head up to look at him. You resisted biting your lip as you stared at the intensity in his golden eyes.

“I’d love that,” he breathed.

After what felt like hours, it was time for him to return home. You were reluctant to see him go, but you needed to leave as well, and you didn’t want either of you getting in trouble.

“Same time tomorrow, (l/n)?” he called over his shoulder.

“Yeah,” you agreed. “But maybe you could call me (y/n), instead.”

He stopped and turned around, the shyest hint of a smile on his lips. He offered you a mock bow, grinning on the way back up. “Only if you call me Kaoru.”

Your heart hammered in your chest. “Deal!”

You parted ways, more excited than you expected for the next night to come.

Your rendezvous continued on like this for the next week. After dark, you would meet in the park, you always arriving first. You’d sit with Kaoru, still unable to believe that you were on a first-name basis, either on the swings or on a bench or in the field. You’d watch the stars and discuss whatever topic came to mind, neither of you shy or offended or guarded.

It was perfect.

You made your way to the park one night, surprised to see a mop of orange hair already awaiting you. Kaoru was seated on the field, which had become his favorite place to think. You sauntered up beside him, dropping to the ground in a cross-legged position.

“Mind if I join you?” you inquired.

He turned to grin at your arrival. “Not at all.”

“What should we talk about tonight?” you prompted, allowing him the choice since it was usually you that began your nightly conversations.

He was hesitant to reply, and you worried that something might be wrong. Before you could question it, however, Kaoru turned to face you.

“Did you and Haruhi ever date?”

You blinked, processing the question before huffing out a soft laugh. He seemed stifled by your amusement.

“No, we never did,” you assured him, shaking your head. “Why do you ask?”

“Hikaru has been… interested,” Kaoru replied slowly. “He’s also been pushing me to find out if she’s available, and I knew that you two were close, so I didn’t want to overstep my bounds by asking if she was single, if the two of you were together.”

“She’s single, but no offense to your brother, I don’t know if she’d be interested,” you countered. “She’s kind of picky with who she’s attracted to, and she hasn’t had a crush on very many people in the years I’ve known her.”

“Is that why you two never…?” Kaoru trailed off, knowing that you would understand.

You were hesitant to reply. “That, and…” You exhaled a sigh, turning away from the taller boy. “She’s not my type.”

“Oh?” Kaoru’s interest had been piqued. “What is your type then, (y/n)?”

Chewing your lip, you swallowed the lump in your throat. “First and foremost… Male.”

The boy beside you exhaled, and your hopeful heart could have sworn it was a sigh of relief. You hesitantly turned your head to glance at him, and found him fiddling with his sleeves.

“I was kind of hoping you’d say that,” he murmured.

Your heart skipped a beat. “And why’s that?”

He shifted closer to you, one hand coming to caress your jaw. You leaned into his touch, never breaking his gaze.

“Because my type is male, shorter than me, (h/c) hair and (e/c) eyes. He’s funny, and smart, and sweet, and real, and he doesn’t just want to get to know me for my money or my background. He’s genuinely interested in who I am, and I’ve spent every night this week looking at the stars with him by my side.”

“Kaoru…”

“Please tell me I’m not reading too much into this,” he murmured, almost desperately. “I’ve been dying to talk to you, (y/n), but I didn’t think you’d be interested, and I was afraid of being taken advantage of again.”

“Kaoru, you’re not reading too much into it,” you assured him, and his soft eyes lit up hopefully. “You’re my type, too.”

He leaned in, his nose brushing against yours, so close that you could feel his breath ghosting over your mouth.

“Can I kiss you?” he murmured, and it took every ounce of willpower you had not to lunge forward and tackle him to the ground.

“Please,” you exhaled, and he took the plunge, kissing you softly and passionately all at once. His hand slid to the back of your head, holding you in place. The hand he’d been using to prop himself up came to rest on your hip, gently fisting in the fabric of your shirt. You rested both of your hands on his chest, feeling his smooth, toned build through his clothing. He tilted his head, kissing you deeper and running his soft tongue along your bottom lip. With a gasp, you granted him access, melting into his arms when his tongue slipped into your mouth. It danced with your own, swiping along the roof of your mouth and the back of your teeth.

Growing lightheaded from the lack of air and the intensity of the kiss, you reluctantly pulled back to inhale. Your eyes fluttered open, gazing up at Kaoru.

“Will you be my boyfriend, (y/n)?” he murmured. “We’d have to keep it a secret, until I graduate and my parents no longer control me. They don’t approve of anyone who doesn’t come from money, and I don’t want them to judge you. I care for you so much, (y/n).”

You silenced his ramblings with a soft kiss. “Of course I will, Kaoru. I wouldn’t have kissed you if I didn’t want this. I don’t mind keeping it a secret. We can keep meeting up like this, away from your family’s watch.”

He nodded. “That sounds amazing.”

He kissed you again, and you lost yourself to his touch. You didn’t know how long you’d spent in the park this time, but neither of you could find it in yourselves to care.

#writers block #kaoru hitachiin #male reader #kaoru x reader #reader insert #ouran high school host club

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naitiaclo960writings · 5 years

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Day 7 - Battered & Bond

A sharp cry resonates in the chapel, echoing on the stained-glass windows; the eyes of Michel a witness to the barbarity that inhabited this place. A rale of pain, a sob, then a snap in the air. Another cry.

Tears and sweat were pouring down Castiel’s twisted face of pain, the atmosphere heavy with his groans of suffering. All his muscles were numb, his vision blurred with tears which he tried to hold in vain. The angel, however, didn’t know what torment was the most difficult to bear: the instruments that were relentlessly sinking in his flesh, in his grace, or the shame and crushing humiliation that he derived from it.

Beyond his wounded vessel, his suffering extended to his own angelic identity. Above him where he was chained against a girder hung two large black wings, pinned to the wall by nails like a common butterfly on a cork panel. Thick blood escaped from his wounds, dripped on the ground, covered his almost naked body. He didn’t even know if anyone knew where he was, what he was doing, what he was going through. He had barely had time to send half of a message to Dean, asking for help, before chains covered with sigils fell on him, depriving him of any resistance.

He didn’t even know how long the man in front of him had been exploring his wings with morbid fascination. The guild that had fallen upon him — apparently a cult of exclusively male sorcerers — was far more dangerous than he suspected. Castiel didn’t even dare imagine their power for having developed a spell capable of forcing its wings to manifest in physical form in the eyes of humans. The fact remains that he found himself there, deprived of strength and dignity while the wizard in front of him passed a disgusting hand among his feathers.

Another sob got stuck in his throat and he feels a sickening chill on his back. Humans were not supposed to see his wings, much less touch them. It was considered a highly personal thing to reveal your wings. It was worse than getting naked. The angels only showed them to each other very rarely, usually waiting for the intimacy of a mating to do so. The great shadows that appeared when they were flying were nothing more than that: shadows. Castiel had never shown his wings to anyone until now and he had the dreadful feeling that he was being violated slowly as the wizard’s greedy eyes slipped upon him.

- "Beautiful." Whispered the man while viciously pulling on a handful of feathers, pulling them out of the rest of the wing under the dismayed cry of Castiel.

He felt as if he was caught between a human sheath and a form of ether, feeling an overwhelming amount of emotions as his grace wavered inside him, panicked. He had stopped praying to his brothers and sisters at least an hour before, realizing that the sigils of the chapel also prevented him from calling for help. He was alone at the back of an imposing manor, in a dark chapel where his tortured cries echoed.

He must have lost consciousness after another cutting in the flesh of his wings, because, when he opened his eyes again, the wizard had put down his knife and was hesitantly heading towards the two wooden doors in front of him, at the end of the aisle. He saw him open the door, then a loud noise burst in the chapel and the wizard fell to the ground, dead. A streak of blood was escaping from a hole in the middle of his forehead.

Castiel raised his head sharply, ignoring the pain in his limbs, trying to curl his wings behind him as best he could. Pale face and body soaked in sweat, his wide eyes landed on an indecisive form that passed through the opening of the wooden door. His heart snapped into his chest — as if the organ really needed to pump blood into his body — as his gaze fell on the strained lines of Dean bursting into the room. The hunter quickly glanced at the body at his feet before raising his weapon in front of him, scanning the place with a certain stiffening in his body. It took him only a fraction of seconds to fall upon the miserable sight of Castiel.

The angel fell a little more on himself by crossing the gaze both amazed and horrified of Dean. He was so, so ashamed. He wasn’t supposed to see, not like that. Castiel had the urge to vomit although he had absolutely nothing in his stomach. He lowered his eyes, defeated and his face twisted into a painful expression, but this time it had nothing to do with the bloody knives on the little table in front of him. Dean had seen his wings. He must have found them monstrous, thus torn apart, sticky with blood and sweat, whole places devoid of feathers and exposing his bruised flesh.

- "Did you find him?" Sam’s voice resounds behind Dean. Castiel panicked again.

Dean quickly lowered his eyes and turned towards the door, preventing his brother from entering the chapel.

- "Wait for me outside." He said in a tone.

- "What? But-

- Don’t come in, Sam! Don’t look. I got this. Please go get the car, I’m coming with Cas as soon as I can."

The angel could almost see the expression on the face of the younger one, the duality obvious in the silence that followed Dean’s words. Dean didn’t move out of the door until Sam nodded and walked away from the opening. He knew.

Castiel felt like crying again. Dean knew what he had been forced to endure, what the manifestation of his wings meant to him. Dean knew, and he kept Sam from seeing his wings. An outpouring of gratitude took hold of him for the human who was now closing the door and slowly approaching him, his eyes scrupulously fixed to the ground.

- "Hey Cas. It’s just me." Mumbled the hunter in a strangled voice, as if disturbed by the scene playing in front of him.

Castiel stirred faintly in his shackles, unable to say anything, only able to feel the burning blade of shame sinking into his heart. Dean knew, but Dean saw. Castiel felt more than miserable than ever so hung on the wall, crucified like a bad parody of an insect and exposed to anyone. Only his pants hid his human vessel and Dean kept getting closer and closer.

When his feet landed among the black feathers that littered the ground less than a foot from him, Castiel let out a heartbreaking murmur.

- "Dean…

- I’m here." The hunter answered immediately while slowly putting his gun inside his coat. "I’ll help you Cas, I’m here."

With infinite caution — unusual for the man — Dean approached him until he could lay a hand on the side of his head, his gaze firmly turned to the ground.

- "Okay?" He asked in a breath, visibly as shaken as the angel.

Castiel nodded faintly as a new sob invaded her throat.

- "Shh, no, it’s okay. It’s okay, I got you. I’ll get you out."

Dean slowly lifted his eyes towards him, taking care to follow the lines of his body until he plunged directly into his eyes. Castiel clung to it with all his might, trying to pass all the gratitude and vulnerability he felt at that very moment. Dean nodded and swallowed.

- "Cas… I know…" He closed his mouth. Inhaled slowly. Resumed. "I’m going to have to look at it to… to untie you." He simply said by gently stroking the hair that he could reach from Castiel’s head in an attempt to soothe him.

The angel first shook his head, his face soaked by tears. He couldn’t regain control of himself, as if his nerves had been skinned alive and disposed in front of him, forcing him to witness the weakness he was currently showing. Dean continued to reassure him by talking to him, telling him how strong he had been, that he needed to make a tiny extra effort before it was all over. Long minutes passed during which Dean didn’t leave his eyes until Castiel finally, timidly nodded, his face red from embarrassment.

- "Thank you." Dean simply murmured, and it was so sincere, as if the angel was giving him the highest honour by this single gesture.

When Dean moved too, it was with the same gentleness. He gradually left Castiel’s eyes after a sharp look in his direction and went up the curve from his collarbone to his shoulder. From there, he finally laid his eyes on the dark joint of his right wing, sliding as quickly as possible to go and find the broad nail that was planted at the top of his wing. For as long as it lasted, Castiel wouldn’t let go of Dean’s face. Dean hadn’t particularly reacted to the sight of his torn wings, he had simply remained respectful and impassive, executing himself with speed and precision. However, Castiel could feel the trembling of his fingers when he pulled out the nail planted there and the complaint he let out was filled with distress as he felt his wing drooping heavily behind him. Dean repeated his gestures on the left one while apologizing. When the second wing was free in turn, Castiel immediately retracted them behind his back, trying to hide them as best as possible behind his body.

- "Okay." Dean whispered, back into his eyes, keeping his bloody fingers on the angel’s sides. "Do you think you can hide them now?" he asked.

Castiel shook his head negatively, already knowing the answer to this question. He hadn’t stopped trying since they had appeared.

- "Okay." Dean simply answered by passing his tongue on his lips, concerned. "Okay." He repeated.

He then undertook to rid the angel’s body of all these chains and seals before helping him to remain at the table in front of him. Dean walked away for a short amount of time and stared at the room, looking down at a pile of dusty old furniture. He took a decided step towards the cluster and grabbed a large white sheet that covered several shelves, shaking it vigorously to clean it. He then returned to Castiel and gave him an uncertain look. The angel shook his head, realizing that he wanted to help him.

Dean nodded back and helped him wrap his wings and body in the sheet, hiding it from the outside world. A sigh of relief escaped from Castiel and spread throughout his body when he felt his mutilated wings covered in fabric. He would have collapsed on the cold floor of the chapel if Dean hadn’t been there to support him, taking care not to touch his wings as he passed one of his arms over his shoulder to hoist him on his feet.

- "We will find a solution Cas." He assured him as he gently led him out. "I promise I’ll find something, sweetheart."

For any answer, Castiel nestled his face in the hollow of his neck, thanking him silently before starting to walk painfully again. Between his beaten body and his bruised grace, Dean was still able to bring him some comfort and that was all Castiel would need to get up. * * *

OKAY so I guess I’m doing the Suptober now. To be honest, I wasn’t planning on doing it, but Tibbs (❤️) convinced me to do it and here I am. So I’m starting on Day 7? First I wanted to catch up and post everything all at once, but with my studies and my schedule I realize that I will never catch up in time. So I decided to take the challenge along the way and updates the whole thing little by little (I already wrote until day 3 but I have to translate everything on my own and this is whole new challenge for me). Hope you enjoyed, see ya tomorrow ^^. @winchester-reload

You can check my masterlist for the Suptober 2019 here

Tagging peoples cause why not : @echooz @aliceollormusic @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @styggtroll @thanks-tacos @petrichoravellichor @iamcharliebradburylevelperfect @ladywaywarddsc @hellfire37 @didnt-survive-twist-and-shout @destiel-221b-sabriel @aloha-cowgirl @alexia-kline-winchester @destielhoneybee @mylifeisbrulette @dysfunctional-destiel @ozonecologne @doofcas @castielrisingabove @zoerayne2426 @tibbinswrites @naomishamiga

#suptober2019 #suptober #inktober #inktober2019 #Destiel #destiel fanfiction #day 7 #hurt/comfort #supernatural fanfiction #Destiel fanfic #supernatural fanfic #wings #castiel #dean winchester #dean x castiel #hurt cas #suptoberart2019

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keichanz · 5 years

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Resolution

A bonus Spooktober chapter, following a few days after the events of Possession.

Inuyasha was sitting at his desk, trying quite unsuccessfully to get some work done with his mind so preoccupied with a certain silver-haired teenage daughter of his, when he heard the side door slam shut and footsteps stomping across the house toward his office. He froze and tensed in his chair just as her familiar scent, tinged with the bitterness of anger, drifted into the room and he turned his head just as the girl in question arrived at his door.

Standing in the doorway to his office, body stiff, fists clenched, and face screwed up into a fierce scowl, Izayoi silently glared at her father. Her little chest was heaving and she was practically trembling with the intensity of her emotions, ears pinned against her head and teeth clenched tightly.

Inuyasha regarded her mutely for a few seconds more before wordlessly saving his work on the computer, removing his reading glasses, and setting them on the desk before swiveling in his chair to face her fully. Leaning forward he propped his elbows on his knees and gave her his undivided attention, patiently waiting for her to begin.

He didn’t have to wait long.

“I didn’t want to come home after school,” she started in a soft hiss. “I wanted to go to the store with Rai like we originally planned, because I’m still mad at you, and maybe even have a little bit of fun so I wouldn’t be having such a crappy birthday, but do you know who convinced me to come home instead?”

Inuyasha tightened his jaw and forced himself to remain silent, knowing his daughter needed this.

“Raiden did,” she supplied and her father’s eyes rounded slightly in surprise. “Yes. That Raiden. And do you know why? Because he didn’t want my relationship with my dad to suffer just because said dad is a big jerkface, because that’s the type of person Rai is!”

Her dad flinched and still said nothing.

“I like this boy, Dad,” Izayoi continued fiercely and hated the way her voice caught in her throat. Her eyes burned with the threat of tears but she continued, determined to say this now that she’d started.

“A lot, and by some miracle I think he likes me back, and you humiliated me in front of him and I was terrified he was never gonna talk to me again, but he did because he’s a good person.”

Izayoi couldn’t hold back the tears any longer and they streamed down her face, blurring her vision, but she forged on, roughly dashing a hand cross her eyes. She knew her dad hated it when she cried, but right now she couldn’t find the strength to care, and it wasn’t like she could help it anyway. She’d been teetering on the edge all day, her emotions throughout the day having been so strung tight and frayed it was amazing she’d held out as long as she had. It felt good to release some of the pressure that had built up and so she continued, her words heated, her voice passionate.

“He genuinely cares about me and he feels guilty about what happened Friday even though he’s not even in the wrong here. Raiden is nothing like Daisuke, and in fact he saved me from Dai today, but that’s not the point.”

She took a deep, shuddering breath and once more fixed him with a stern look. “I am thirteen years old now, Dad. You can’t protect me forever and I don’t want you to.”

Her father winced but she forced herself to go on, her tears running unchecked and her breathing becoming a little uneven. It was getting harder to push words out, but she couldn’t stop now despite the sudden, savage urge to throw herself into her father’s arms and let him take away the pain like he used to when she was little.

“I’m not that little girl anymore,” she rasped and try as she might she could not hold back the sob that erupted for her throat. “I know you just want to keep me from getting hurt, but you have to realize that you can’t—you can’t shelter me from everything and—and I just—it’s not f-fair and I want—”

Strong arms suddenly wrapped around her shaking frame and with a sob Izayoi collapsed into her father’s arms, wrapping her arms around his neck and weeping into his shoulder as he gathered her close to him and held her as she cried. She clung to his shirt as he rubbed her back and murmured gently to her, nuzzling her head and allowing this desperately needed relief.

“I’m still m-mad at you-u-u,” Izayoi managed through her sobs, taking deep breaths to try and calm herself down. It wasn’t really working.

“I know,” Inuyasha replied with a hint of a smile, closing his eyes and tightening his arms around her. “You can be mad at me all you want. Your big jerkface of a dad deserves it.”

Izayoi made a sound that might have been a choked laugh but he couldn’t be sure so he just continued to hold her, rocking her gently in his arms, rubbing her back and growling soothingly in an attempt to help calm her down. She hadn’t let him come near her the entire weekend, and he relished having his little girl in his arms again, her scent in his nose, infinitely glad that she was finally giving him a chance to atone for his stupidity. He knew it stemmed from the fear of her growing up too fast. She was suddenly liking boys, and having a social life, and Inuyasha realized that as much as he wanted time to slow down, he knew he couldn’t and he had to come to terms with the fact that his little girl wasn’t so little anymore. Hell, she nearly reached Kagome’s shoulders; a few more years and she’d be taller than her, Inuyasha was sure.

With a shaky sigh, Izayoi moved to pull away and Inuyasha reluctantly loosened his grip, but didn’t remove his arms from her. He knelt there as she pulled herself together, wiping at her eyes, sniffling and regulating her breathing as he contented himself with rubbing a downy ear, waiting patiently.

She dropped her hands and blinked bright amber eyes at her father before offering a tentative, trembling smile. Inuyasha quirked a grin back and leaned forward to kiss her forehead. Both of their ears flicked when the ring of the doorbell suddenly echoed throughout the house, but it went ignored.

“I’m sorry,” he said and then added with a sigh, “And you’re right. I know you’re not a little girl anymore, Iz, but you’ll always be my little girl, whether you like it or not, so I’ll offer you a deal. You do your old man a solid and try to be patient while I try and deal with you growing up faster than I can keep up with, and I’ll do my best to give you your space and understand that there are some things I can’t control. I’m sure it won’t be easy, but if it’ll avoid shitstorms like this in the future, I’m willing to try.”

Inuyasha aimed another crooked grin at her and nuzzled his nose with hers. “So whaddaya say? Yay or nay?”

He was finally grace with one of her beautiful smiles she got from her mother and nodded, eyes identical to his own brightening and showing more than a little bit of relief.

“Okay,” she breathed. “Deal. I love you, Daddy.” Izayoi pulled him in for another hug, her arms going around his neck and Inuyasha felt his chest tighten as he returned the embrace.

Ridiculously he felt his eyes grow hot as he rasped, “Love you too, babygirl,” and kissed her cheek.

“Inuyasha?” Kagome appeared in the doorway and smiled down at her husband and daughter. “There’s someone here to see you.”

Inuyasha sighed and reluctantly pulled away, dropping another kiss to his daughter’s head before standing up and going to see who was at the door. Izayoi sniffled and rubbed at her cheeks, accepting her mother’s hug when Kagome wrapped her up in her arms.

He’d already caught the familiar scent drifting down the hallway so when Inuyasha reached the foyer he wasn’t surprised to find their visitor standing there before the doorway, hands in his pockets and looking a little uncomfortable. To his credit, however, he didn’t look away from the half-demon’s gaze as he stopped a little ways before him, arms crossed and his posture lacking any of the hostility he’d had from their last meeting.

He heard footsteps approaching behind him then Izayoi’s soft gasp as she realized who it was but he didn’t glance at her and kept his expression a neutral mask of indifference. He had a feeling he knew what this was about, and he had to admit, he liked the kid’s tenacity.

Trying not to fidget where he stood, Raiden spared a brief glance Izayoi’s way to toss her a quick reassuring grin before turning his attention to the taller figure beside her. He cleared his throat, gathered his nerve, and sucked in a deep breath before starting what he came here to do.

“Mr. Taisho,” he began politely and bowed to both him and Izayoi’s mother who stood just behind her husband with a friendly smile. “Mrs. Taisho. I’m, uh, I’m sorry for coming unexpectedly, but I wanted to clear the air a little because of how things went on Friday. If that’s okay.”

Izayoi smiled while her father nodded his head to continue.

“Look,” Raiden began a little awkwardly, grimacing as he rubbed the back of his neck and dropped his gaze. “I just wanted to apologize. I shouldn’t have assumed that your daughter was free to go out with a complete stranger that you’d never before, and I should have asked first if it was alright if I can spend time with her. Izayoi told me what happened between you guys and I just—I feel bad.”

Actually he’d heard it from Rin, who was the school’s biggest gossip and also cousin to the girl he was interested in, but he doubted it was a good idea to mention their family drama is being broadcasted all over school by his niece. Judging by Izayoi’s grateful look, he’d made the right call.

Giving up on remaining stoic – he’d never been very good at hiding his emotions anyway – Inuyasha sighed heavily and then grimaced. He caught Kagome’s gaze, who shrugged and then nodded, and the half-demon grumbled slightly before turning back toward the boy.

“Actually,” he rumbled, frowning as he glanced at his daughter who had yet to take her gaze off of the younger dog demon. “She is.”

Raiden blinked and frowned a little. “She is...?”

He sighed again and reluctantly admitted, “She’s free to go out with who she wants without our permission. Iz has a good judge of character and I know she’s more than capable of taking care of herself. Just ask Daisuke,” he added in a mumble.

Raiden heard it anyway and perked up a little, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. “You mean how she broke his nose, right?” At Inuyasha’s surprised look, he shrugged. “I overheard her talking to him while he was harassing her at school today and she asked him if he wanted her to break it again. He certainly deserved it for being a dick,” he said bluntly, unapologetic.

While Izayoi groaned softly and covered her red face with her hands, Inuyasha was thinking that maybe this boy wasn’t so bad if he was of the same mind of that brat that he was. And hadn’t Iz said something about him saving her from Daisuke or something? So he’d stepped in when his girl was in trouble. So to took action and didn’t hesitate to protect her. Definitely admirable.

“Inuyasha,” Kagome said suddenly, drawing both of their attention as she stepped forward and put a hand on her husband’s shoulder with an encouraging smile. “Don’t you have something you need to say to Raiden, too?”

While Raiden looked confused and Izayoi was lookin back and forth between them, Inuyasha rolled his eyes and dragged a hand down his face, knowing his wife was right, but still not liking the thought of admitting he was wrong.

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled at Kagome’s gentle reminder and faced the boy standing before him. “Raiden, was it?” he asked, and the brat—er, kid nodded. “I’m sorry too. For, uh, acting like an asshole Friday and threatening you and shit.”

The boy nodded again and looked relieved. “It’s cool. You just wanna protect your daughter, right? I get that.” Then he smiled and said, “I wanna protect her, too.”

Kagome gasped and put a hand over her heart while Izayoi flushed deeply, infinitely pleased, and Inuyasha struggled to not pick his girl up and whisk her away.

So instead he grunted, looked down at the girl in question and asked resignedly, “You said something about going to the store.”

Izayoi blinked then her eyes widened and a small, hopeful smile curled her lips upward. She nodded and Inuyasha sighed—again—before looking at Raiden.

The kid met his gaze, unwavering, and satisfied, Inuyasha rumbled, “Have her back by seven. It’s still a school night even if I don’t wanna scare you off anymore.”

“Inuyasha,” Kagome chastised, nudging his ribs, and he grunted, unrepentant. It was true, dammit.

Raiden visibly brightened while Izayoi wasted no time in fetching her jacket and hurriedly shrugging it on.

“Yes, sir,” he answered and bowed respectfully. “I promise to have her back not even a second later. Thank you, Mr. Taisho. For giving me a chance.”

Inuyasha pulled a face. “Don’t make me regret,” he grumbled called out as his daughter passed him on the way to the door, “Izayoi.”

She paused and looked over her shoulder, a mite impatiently, then sighed when he gestured her over to him. He waved to Kagome and she produced their daughter’s new phone out of nowhere – more likely she retrieved it from her backpack when no one was looking – and handed it over.

“For my piece of mind,” Inuyasha rumbled softly, “so I know you have a way to call me if something happens.”

Izayoi smiled in understanding and nodded, taking the device and sliding it into her back pocket. Then she surprised him by wrapping her arms around his waist and hugging him tight. Inuyasha glanced at the door, toward Raiden who was patiently waiting and politely looking away, and kneeled down to hug her back, kissing her cheek.

“Happy birthday, babygirl,” he whispered.

“Thank you, Daddy,” she whispered, pulling back to beam brightly at him and kiss his cheek. “You’re the best.”

He grinned at her. “I try.”

Giggling, Izayoi bid her mother bye as well before hurrying over to Raiden, who smiled at her before looking over toward he parents and giving them a nod and small wave. Then they were walking down the steps, toward the sidewalk, and then Inuyasha’s view of them disappeared when Kagome closed the door.

Inuyasha groaned and dragged a hand down his face, suddenly feeling exhausted. He wanted nothing more than to go collapse on the couch and maybe take a nap but a gentle tug on his pants prompted him to look down to find his son staring up at him with big amber eyes, undoubtedly wondering where his sister was and what had just happened.

With a little smile Inuyasha lifted him up into his arms. “Tai,” he said and poked his tummy with a finger, “if you ever put me through half the shit your sister does, I’m gonna beat you bloody.”

The young half-demon blinked and then giggled. “Okay.”

Inuyasha nodded, satisfied. “How about you and me go watch some cartoons and call it a day? Your old man needs a break from life.”

“Yeah!” Tai said with a grin, always excited to watch cartoons on the big screen TV.

“You pick. What are we watching?”

“Spiderman!” he crowed, throwing his hands up and Inuyasha grinned.

“Spiderman it is, then.”

Watching with an amused smile, Kagome piped up, “Is mom allowed to join or is this a boys only thing?”

She watched as her boys exchanged a speaking look and tried very hard not to laugh when Tai’s face screwed up in intense concentration. Then he nodded once, Inuyasha nodded back, and when they turned to her she hoped the amusement was gone from her face.

“You can join, Mama,” Tai told her. “You don’t have cooties.”

Inuyasha choked on his laugh while Kagome said dryly, “Oh, I see. Well that’s a relief.”

Grinning, Inuyasha lifted an arm and his smiling wife tucked herself against his side. Together the three of them wandered into the living room to watch an animated Spiderman kick evil butt although between Inuyasha and Kagome, they had more fun watching their son reenact his favorite scenes while yelling, “My Spidey senses are tingling!”

#resolution #spooktober bonus #oneshot #inuyasha #kagome #izayoi #tai #raiden #keizfanfiction #fanfiction

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