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toko-tuesday · 7 months

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Our Final Hour (Lyney x Male Reader)

This was a commission for run.dennys.is.on.fire from TikTok!! I got permission to post it, and it's been doing well on ao3, so I figured I'd feed the Tumblr babies as well!! Hope y'all enjoy!! <3

Why would she say that?

And with such a smug look on her face.

Right here?

Right now?

This can't be fair.

This can't be the justice that Fontaine's Archon seeks.

"Tell me. Aren't you and Lynette actually from the House of the Hearth?" Furina's incriminating question rings in your ears.

"No…" you mumble, feeling your heart sink.

"It was so close to being over… why would she…?"

You begin to feel light headed.

The trial felt like it had been dragging on for eons. Everything that led up to it had happened in the blink of an eye. Everyone was captivated by the twins' magic show, but now the same opera house that was hosting wonder was now the scene of an onstage murder. And, unfortunately, Lyney was the primary suspect. You and Lyney had been friends for years, and you knew without an ounce of doubt that he didn't commit this crime. But alas, the man you had grown to love was now in danger of facing a prison sentence… or even worse: the death penalty.

Luckily, the Traveler and Paimon were there to act as the twins' attorneys, while you anxiously and silently supported them from the audience. Things seemed to be going the right way. The citizens were beginning to see the inconsistencies in Furina's testament. It was almost over.

Almost.

So close.

But Fontaine's beloved Archon was never one to accept defeat so easily. Her love for dramatics is probably what pushed to unveil the unspoken truth about the twins. You feel your heart begin to shatter in your chest as you hear the people of the court begin to murmur critically among themselves.

Your ears ring and it becomes hard to breathe as the accusations continue. You lift your head up to where the twins, Paimon, and the Traveller are standing. Words are being spoken, but you can't hear them. Your gaze turns to Furina, who looks ever so proud of herself. The clanking sound of the Oratrice Mecanique d'Analyse Cardinal brings you back to reality as you watch it tilt towards the Hydro Archon.

Suddenly, the Traveler's voice rang through the room.

"I request a brief adjournment. There are things that must be discussed," the blonde says, their floating travel companion nodding in agreement beside them.

"Please, please, please…" you pray repeatedly amidst the whispers of how the Traveler's request is unnecessary.

Like an answer from Celestia above, Chief Justice Neuvillette deems the request reasonable.

"This trial will reconvene in one hour," Neuvillette says, causing the court to shout in disagreement with his choice.

It takes everything in you to not jump up and cheer as waves of relief crash into you. An hour. That should be more than enough time to clear things up right? Lyney will be proven innocent in no time! Hopefully…

After Furina chastises them one last time, you see the Traveler, Paimon, and the twins go toward the back of the opera house. You quickly pick up your travel bag from the floor and formulate a plan to get to them without being sent away by the Gardes. Fortunately for you, it actually wasn't too difficult.

"The Garde is either extremely incompetent or one of them is definitely in on the incident…" you think to yourself as you make your way backstage.

You lean against the closed double doors and listen to the voices coming from behind it. You hear Lyney and Lynette apologize to the Traveler and Paimon for things they shouldn't have to. Even Paimon is being merciless towards the two.

"We trusted you two under the assumption that you weren't bad guys!" Paimon squeals.

Bad? Lyney? You had years worth of evidence that those words don't even belong in the same sentence together.

"How dare they…" you think to yourself as you feel anger begin to stir inside your chest.

How could the person being so accusatory towards the twins be the same fair and legendary traveler that you've been hearing tales about? How could they so quickly forget how willingly Lyney rescued them from Furina's attempt at imprisoning them mere days ago? Maybe their pedestal was built on nothing but bias and fairytales.

You continue to listen to the conversation behind the door. Lyney and Lynette explain their true goals and intentions, but the Traveler and Paimon only respond to them with remarks of suspicion. At this point, you're burning with anger. It's taking all of your willpower to not summon your weapon, barge into the room, and show that fucking hypocrite of a traveler and their annoying floating companion that maybe the Fatui aren't the only people they should be weary of.

During your moment to attempt to regain self control, you end up missing most of the conversation. What brings you back to reality is hearing the Traveler reluctantly agree to continue trying to find the truth behind the case.

"How about you apologize for being cruel for no fucking reason?" you mumble, dissatisfied with the "hero's" attitude towards your friends.

You hear footsteps approach the door as the twins once again apologize and thank the Traveler and Paimon. You move from your position against the door and press your back against the wall beside it. The double doors swing open as the Traveler and Paimon walk out with a "huff". You glare daggers into both of their backs as they walk away, hoping they can sense your wrath. Shortly after, Lynette timidly walks out. A shaky sigh escapes her lips as she turns back to the room.

"Are you coming, Lyney?" she nervously asks her brother who hasn't moved.

"Ah, in a moment, Lynette," he replies with a hint of hurt in his voice. "I just… need a moment to collect myself. I'll be with you guys shortly."

Lynette gives him an affirming nod before exiting the scene.

Just as you begin to step away from the wall, you hear Lyney's voice again.

"You don't have to hide, my dear friend," he says, causing you to stop in your tracks. How in the hell did he know you were there?

"Please… come sit with me. I could really use a kind face right about now."

You can tell that he's fighting tears as he speaks to you.

You enter the room and quietly close the doors behind you. Your turn to see Lyney sitting down on a loveseat, resting elbows on the table in front of him as his chin sits in his palms. Lyney sighs as you sit beside him.

"I'm guessing you heard everything…" he says, staring at the wall in front of him. You let out a soft hum as you dig through your bag and eventually pull out a bulle fruit. “I very much heard the Traveler and Paimon being complete assholes to you, if that’s what you’re asking,” you say as you begin to peel the fruit. Lyney lets out a soft chuckle at your comment. “Though their words stung, they have the right to feel the way they do,” he replies, sighing as his gaze moves down to his feet.

You scoff, rolling your eyes as you give Lyney a piece of the fruit.

“Well, if you ask me, Lyney, it’s very hypocritical. How can they be buddy-buddy with Childe, of all people, but then have issues with you and Lynette? It doesn’t make sense,” you say as Lyney takes the fruit wedge you’re offering.

“I understand where you’re coming from, but I choose to have no qualms with the Traveler. Despite everything, they’re still going to try to help with the trial,” Lyney says, popping the fruit into his mouth.

You cross your arms and let out a heavy sigh as the magician eats.

“But is it because they want to, or because they have a reputation to protect?” you ask, arching an eyebrow.

Lyney’s face turns to stone at your question. His eyes flicker over to you then back to his feet. You sigh again. “Despite everything, I still think it’s admirable of you to give them the benefit of the doubt after how cruel they’ve been to you. Do I think they deserve it? No. But, it’s very in character of you to do so. You’ve always been so… selfless.”

Lyney’s cheeks begin to turn red at your praise.

“In all honesty, I’m thankful for the Traveler. Maybe I shouldn’t be, but I am. I’m hoping that with their help, I’ll be proven innocent,” Lyney says.

A small smile appears on his lips, but it quickly fades back into a frown. “But…” he continues, “I can’t help but wonder what will happen if things don’t end in my favor.”

You silently eat another piece of bulle fruit while Lyney speaks.

“Of course, no matter the verdict, there will be people who doubt me as both a magician and person…”

He’s now sitting back in the loveseat with his arms and legs crossed. His gaze is fixed on the ceiling.

“On the other hand, facing a prison sentence would not only ruin my reputation, it would be awful for Lynette and Freminet too…”

Without realizing, Lyney’s eyes lock onto you. He seems to want to say something to you, but the words are practically stuck in his throat.

“What are you thinking?” you ask, meeting the magician’s violet eyes. “It’s just…” Lyney begins, his voice barely above a whisper, “I would also hate for you to be known as the guy who’s best friend is a criminal…”

Tears begin to form in Lyney’s eyes as he continues to speak.

“If the people of Fontaine aren’t convinced I’m innocent in the end, I could be facing worse than prison. I could be facing death.”

“Hey, don’t think like that-” you start to say, but Lyney cuts you off.

“But it’s true!” he shouts, causing your eyes to widen, “I could be put to death because of this!”

His elbows are now resting on his knees as he frantically grasps at his ash blonde hair. His breathing becomes shaky as the tears he’s been fighting race down his cheeks.

“I can’t die here! I can’t leave them behind!” he yells between sobs.

“Lynette… Freminet… they still need me!”

You place your palm on his trembling back and rub small circles into it.

“Hey, shh, shh. It’s going to be okay…” you say, trying to help calm him down.

Your heart breaks as he turns his tearstained face to you.

“And you…” he says, his voice broken from both yelling and crying so hard, “Archons above, I… I have so much to tell you.”

Before either of you can think, Lyney’s lips are crashing into yours. He firmly grasps the front of your shirt, pulling you as close as he possibly can. Your heart is racing as you melt into Lyney’s touch, placing your hands onto his shoulders to deepen the kiss.

After what feels like forever and no time at all, Lyney pulls away, cupping your cheek with his hand.

“For years I’ve been trying my hardest to impress the boy next door, and now he’s here, during what could be my final hour.”

He then gently intertwines his shaky hands with yours, his thumb grazing the back of your hand.

“I… have something to request of you. And it may be a little selfish.”

Your heart feels like it’s going to leap out of your chest as Lyney’s grip on your hands becomes firm.

“Please, if this ends well, let me be the one who gets to hold your hand while walking through the streets of Fontaine, just like this. I want to be the shoulder you cry on, just like you’ve been for me for all these years, and even right now. Please, let me be yours until the end of time, because I’ve come to realize that imprisonment is so much better than freedom without you.”

Before you know it, tears are streaming down your face.

“Yes,” is all you manage to say before pulling Lyney in for another kiss.

This time, there’s no surprise. The kiss is much more heartfelt this time, now that long overdue confession has finally been said.

Eventually, you both pull away, resting your foreheads against each other’s.

“I have something I wish to entrust to you,” Lyney says, his voice barely audible.

He takes off his hat and reaches into it. You gasp at what appears in his hand.

“Lyney, is that… your Vision?”

Lyney slides his Pyro Vision into your hands, gently closing your fingers around it.

“Consider this my first or final promise to you. If I get through this, meet me by the Fountain of Lucin and please return my vision to me. If the latter happens… please keep this as a way to remember the magician who’s been silently in love with you for years.”

You nod at Lyney’s request, lifting his hand to your lips to give it a soft kiss. Lyney kisses your forehead in return as he stands.

“Our hour is up, my dear,” he says as he looks towards the doors, “but I promise we will meet again. Even if it’s in the next life.”

Lyney makes his way towards the exit.

“Wait, Lyney!” you call, making him look over his shoulder to you.

“How did you get your Vision back? I thought your assistant had it.”

A small playful smile appears upon Lyney’s lips upon hearing your question. “A good magician never shares their secrets,” he says as leaves the room.

But the fact that he was in love with you is a secret he was praying he could yell from the rooftops if he made it out of this trial with his life.

#lyney #lyney x reader #lyney one shot #genshin impact oneshots #genshin impact #genshin x reader #writing commissions #accepting commissions

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mirai-e-jump · 8 months

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UTB (Up to Boy) Magazine, October 2023 Issue (Vol. 330) ft. Yuzuki Hirakawa Interview and Photo Shoot (translation below)

Publication: August 23, 2023 (between episodes 25-26)

"If you could look back on it alittle, please tell us how you felt when you passed the audition."

Hirakawa: I've auditioned for the Sentai series afew times in the past, but I never made it through that many rounds of judging. For the first time, I was nervous and anxious as I realized that as the judging proceeded, I would be a finalist. When I received the results, with a great sense of relief I though, "Ah, thank goodness…."

"Please tell us about Rita Kaniska, the character you play."

Hirakawa: Rita is the international judge, and King of the country Gokkan. They're calm, composed, and rarely talks, and while they seem like a very serious person, I think they're a character with a cute side, like when they're alone and act like they're talking with their "Moffun" plushies.

"Due to your costume, you can only see with one eye, do you ever find any challenges playing such a role?"

Hirakawa: At first, I felt like it was difficult to convey my emotions through just my visible left eye. I would try squinting my eyes alittle, pulling my chin back, it was alot of trial and error, and I gradually felt like I was reaching a breaking point. When I discussed it with the Director, he told me, "You don't have to try to act with just your left eye. If you express your mind and feel the scene, it'll come out naturally." From that point on, I thought I was able to get in front of the cameras without having to do strange poses.

"Rita doesn't talk much, doesn't show much emotion, but, it's a cool role to play, are there any aspects that overlap with your own?"

Hirakawa: I've been told by the staff and cast around me that I resemble them quite abit. At first, I didn't think I was like them at all. Rita doesn't talk at all, while I'm the complete opposite. I talk all the time and am the type to become excited easily. However, I think they're similar in that Rita has an unexpected side to them, like when they're alone in their room talking to plushies.

"What's an unexpected side of Hirakawa-san?"

Hirakawa: In terms of a gap, the first impression of me is often that I look quiet or shy, but that's not true at all. I'm always really excited (laughs).

"At first glance, she looks cool, but her personality is the complete opposite! By the way, how did Hirakawa-san get into the entertainment world?"

Hirakawa: I joined my agency when I was in my second year of high school. Before that, I was attending a business high school in my hometown of Kumamoto, where I studied bookkeeping and various other subjects, all while thinking about becoming a tax accountant in the future…..

"A tax accountant! This is once again another contrasting world."

Hirakawa: When I started my second year, I thought, "I'd like to start doing something." At that time, I happened to learn about LDH (Hirakawa's agency) on TV and decided to do an audition. Before that, I had no desire to be in the entertainment industry, or to even give it a try.

"So now you're on a path that you never would have imagined yourself on previously. Did things go well once you joined the agency?"

Hirakawa: No. First off, I had no idea about the entertainment world, and while I had gone to various auditions, I was never selected. I thought I had understood that, "It's exhausting, this isn't an easy job afterall." But, slowly, I've been able to participate in dramas and stage plays, and now that I'm finally appearing in King-Ohger, I feel that I can now say with pride that I'm an actor.

"In a way, this could now be called the "starting line." The Sentai series is long running performance that lasts a year. How do you hope to grow over the course of the series?"

Hirakawa: In the previous productions I performed in, I did kind of bad with scenes where there were large groups of people, and it was a challenge for me to show my movements in such situations, but, now that I'm mostly in similar kinds of scenes, I'm able to get around naturally, and I hope I've overcome these challenges. If you haven't watched King-Ohger yet, I hope you'll check out Yuzuki Hirakawa's growth and development!

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abyssmare · 9 months

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Kazui Sexuality Analysis

For the past few months, i’ve convinced multiple people that Kazui Mukuhara is gay— and with the introduction of the Cat MV, I felt it’d be good to make a master list documenting exactly why the theory came across. Primarily to indoctrinate people. Sorry. Thank you @prisoner-000 for helping me with this! >_< ( Despite me initially being the one indoctrinating you lol! )

TW : Open talk discussing Suicide.

WARNING : Spoilers for Trial 2.

Welcome to the ride.

Also I forget Hinako canonically has a name so she’s referred to as “his wife” the whole time. Oops..

Let’s start with the First Trial Voice Drama: “Gouging in the Night” / “Another Night”.

With this being an introductory voice drama, it’s hard to necessarily gauge much of the depth regarding Kazui’s character, but we do get our first introductory to his heavily emphasized ‘lying’ aspect of his character. We also get multiple instances in which he identifies adults with being those that cannot act on their emotions, as Kazui did, because in doing so makes them ‘weak’. Es refers to Kazui as someone with a fake smile, that’s been “consciously crafted to show himself a certain way”, which can be common in those that have experiences having to mask their identity due to a rough home-life / lack of being understood by peers around them.

“What's so good about it? I don't like this.It's just a fake smile that you've consciously crafted to show yourself in a certain way. You're acting based on how you want others to see you - your face clearly shows that you're lying.”

“This is, this is.... You're pretty strict. * Laughs* it's not like I'm not scared at all, either. But I've got the responsibility that comes with being older, too - even in an abnormal situation like this, there's no way I could just let myself panic in front of the kids. Well, even if it's fake, adults need to keep up a smile... in order to not let you young ones down, you know.”

Having to keep up a ‘mask’/‘facade’ in order to keep those around him happy.

—— • ——

“If you say that I'm lying.. You might just be right. Unfortunately, once you're an adult, you get very good at lying.”

“.. Adults, huh?”

Another brief mention of ‘lying’ being natural for adults.

—— • ——

“I... see. It might be as you say. We just become more and more passive to avoid causing pain. Yeah... that's right. It's true that my lies killed her, and even now, I still haven't changed. No, that's not it - I can't change because I was already born this way. But... Don't talk big without even knowing a thing about my feelings, kid.”

“...Nice to meet you, Kazui Mukuhara, it feels like I've finally come face to face with you. Well met, I am Es, the prison guard of MILGRAM.”

“* Exhales, chuckles * Such a fashionable way of greeting, huh? Well, hopefully, you won't come to regret this. These kinds of relationships tend to bring pain with them.”

Despite his wife dying, he says he has not changed, despite all the guilt he supposedly holds for her suicide.

A vague remark regarding their relationship being inherently ‘painful’, despite it being shown that they seemed happy in their relationship. This is emphasized in the “Cat” MV, where you get a better glimpse at their personal relationship.

—— • ——

“As you know, with this personality of mine... I have trouble talking to others about myself openly. I guess, despite physically being as big as I am, I've still got a cowardly side to myself.”

“I'm not interested in your self-deprecation.”

“There's something I'm thinking about now, with this situation... I... all of my sins and weaknesses that I've been hiding... I might have been subconciously waiting for for someone to forcibly uncover them all along.”

He has been “subconsciously waiting for someone to forcibly uncover them,” which implies a sense of relief when he is finally uncovered as a liar. He would not have to show face, or lie about himself.

This is common in gay people who cannot reveal their identity due to negative reception/social status. It is easier to hide than it is to reveal and be honest with those around you, though that relief would still exist.

—————————————————

The “Half” MV.

the title for half could easily be showing a one-sided love— only one ‘half’ sharing that love.

“If only your heart would change, but that’s not possible.”

Here we begin with the first bits of implication, and strongly at that. The description of the video highlights a lyrical piece I believe is incredibly important— as I personally believe it’s him speaking to himself. He had no reason for his wife to have a change of heart, he is shaming himself here. He has openly stated he dislikes himself, so it’s not necessarily surprising.

“Laughing together, side by side, this distance in our relationship is misleading me. Is this what happiness is?”

Under the idea that Kazui seeked compassion and love in a relationship, as it’s hinted at in “Cat”, it’s likely around this time that he actually began to realize that he had struggled to be attracted to her beyond face value. What he lists is not inherently romantic, and in fact can be viewed as a lyric about a best friend whom viewed him as a lover.

“Where did I go wrong? Probably from the beginning,

Please tell me what I should do, feelings shrouded in lies will float away and disappear”

He’s beginning to understand that his feelings aren’t attraction to her, but built up on the ideal of what attraction should be. Kazui mentions that his parents would be disappointed in him now— and that begs the question, why? His life was generally exactly as you’d expect if not more from an adult man. He seemed to have a well-off job, a loving wife, and the only thing missing is a lack of kids. There was nothing there to disappoint them in the first place.

“I could try you, and I could touch you, but you probably wouldn’t notice

I understand that this love is out of bounds, so nothing has to change”

After these lines, likely referencing Kazui’s inability to grasp their relationship romantically, he is shown to stare up at his audience member self. I am under the belief that there are two Kazui’s: the one masking his sexuality, and the other painfully aware of it. The ‘actor’ (masking) one proceeds to gesture his head over for the audience member to proceed to the right— and this is where he sees it.

The “Forbidden Fruit” Motif

This will be referenced in both MV’s.

It’s hard to explain the origin of the “Forbidden Fruit” idea, but the generalized concensus for the usage of this motif in media is the following :

As a metaphor outside of the Abrahamic religions, the phrase typically refers to any indulgence or pleasure that is considered illegal or immoral.

Kazui’s forbidden fruit motif is intense. The representation of it through a green apple is something he finds with distaste, stepping away from it and staring aghast.

“All this time till now has hurt me. The scales of my heart has decided to sway.”

Kazui is unhappy. He is admitting to that unhappiness, even being pictured in the MV as this is when he confessed to his wife.

“If continuing to hide is called unhappiness, not even one word will get to you.”

I’m not sure what to make of the second part, I believe to an extent this is her ‘denial’ of his feelings. A fear that this is happening, something that is truly real. Kazui openly states he’s unhappy, and she cannot fathom that. Reasonably so.

“I’m sure nothing will change and we’ll laugh together and call each other stupid names.

So many things I wish I hadn’t known, i’m just a coward.

Why is it questioning me now?”

Kazui wished to remain friends. And that broke her. That broke her enough to which she ended up committing suicide. He was oblivious, and let his emotional side get to him— this is why he insists on the fact he “failed when he prioritized his emotions.”

—————————————————

The Birthday Art

For their birthdays in 2021, Milgram released art + merch with the characters, with flowers representative of aspects of their characters. Flower meaning plays a large role in this.

Kazui has a spiderwort on his vest. This can be representative of “wisdom” or “I respect you, but not in love”. Uh.. do I really have to hyper-analyze this?

—————————————————

Second Trial Voice Drama : “ Imposter Boulevard “

FINALLY. Dead confirmation that the cheating theories are entirely false— which begs the question of ‘What the hell is going on with this man?’ … You know why we’re here.

In this voice drama, i’d argue he’s incredibly open about the fact there’s more to him than we initially believed. Thank you Onigiriico for the translations!

“That’s ridiculous. If you can save someone by telling a lie, that’s what you should do.”

“However… You killed someone with your lies, didn’t you?”

“… Ah… You forgave me, didn’t you? Aren’t you being especially strict towards me?”

He admits that lying in order to save someone is where his moral compass lies.

“Marriage is something that both partners want equally, isn’t it? It’s something you can’t do if only one person wants it. Deciding to treat it as a punishment all on your own… You’re making a mockery out of it.”

“I really am. Ah… She must have thought so as well. My wife, that is.”

“I’ve said this before: You’re a liar. Those lies have killed a person.”

No notes. You get it.

“I despise myself for lying, too. Being a liar, you see – it’s painful.”

“Heh. Then just–“

“So I’ve tried to change! I’ve tried to change. I have tried to stop lying to myself and others!”

“…”

“I’ve confided in others. I’ve tried to be myself! I’ve tried to just be the way I was born!”

“…Hey, Kazui–“

“It’s not my lies that killed her. She’s dead because I stopped lying to her! If I had just kept lying- She wouldn’t have died…!”

The implication that he has had to ‘confide’ in others, attempting to be himself rather than the masking he has done all his life.. and now here he is, in Milgram, reminded of his past. Hauntingly, almost.

“All the lies I’ve told are tying me down. Ever since I was little, I’ve never truly opened myself to anyone. But in the end, people can’t be saved if they don’t [open up]. And by now, it’s gotten to a point where I can’t do it by myself anymore…”

( machinery whirrs, bell rings )

“I did think Milgram would be able to force its way past that, though.”

He’s hidden he was gay since he was a child, but he knows the Milgram Prison of all things can dig into his memory and force him to confess.

—————————————————

The “Cat” MV.

With the active removal of the ‘cheating’ theory people centrically revolved towards, the introduction of the “Cat” MV was something i’ve been looking forward to for a while now due to the possibilities that it contained. And possibilities it showed, investing in the origin of the couple we’ve been following for so long. Two coworkers turned into a married couple, happily together with one ‘small’ issue. Kazui seems to recognize that his feelings for hers do not match what she wishes.. after they’re married.

“I just wanted to touch, to caress, i just wanted to be touched. So it’s wrong? Shove that!”

“If it’s for the sake of true love, who wouldn’t lis for that?”

Kazui is seeking attention. He views romantic relationships as capable of giving him that, and assumed that’s what the relationships entail. In doing so, he’s indirectly ‘using’ her for the romantic aspects he’s unaware he doesn’t reciprocate. He views this as the normality for relationships, assumably having not been in many before then.

“Love (plus) Destiny = Crap

Smash it, shatter it, bye-bye

That sticky-sweet sequence: Dinner + Camouflage + You-Know-What

Loving Affection (minus) Love

Victim and Perpetrator, let’s keep it simple”

A long collective of lines, but it’s perfectly representative of what I previously stated. Kazui cannot understand what is meant to be a romantic relationship. In discovering what he believes to be one, he lashes out, assuming that relationships are something that he deem more inconvenient than the exciting things that are talked about in stories.

This is where Kazui begins to realize he is not happy in his relationship, and it is not because of his wife. And of course, in response to this distress— not too long later in the video, the green apple returns.

The return of the “Forbidden Fruit”, a constant reminder that he is living a lie. I don’t believe this is directly meant to symbolize his homosexuality, but rather the aspects of it he is trying to ignore. He is hiding the things he knows will hurt her, even if it hurts him. As stated in one of the lines during this sequence:

“All the things I wanna do that I can’t say out loud, I gotta keep it inside and act.”

He has conformed to the idea of just being another actor playing his role in life. This will crumble soon. For both their sakes.

Quickly, the sequence shifts once again to Kazui’s inner dialogue.

“I can’t stop, I can’t be normal

This feeling, it can’t be gratified

This feeling, it yearns to be satisfied”

Kazui yearns for what he can’t have: a relationship where he shares the feelings his partner does. He yearns to love and be loved. He is an adult, far too late in his life ( in his eyes ) to do so. It’d be selfish to turn back now and begin a new life, but it’s just as painful to live a lie of loving someone he just is not capable of loving. This is why the sequence breaks so quickly.

He cannot confide in the smoking he is indulging in to cope, quickly taking the animal and taking a bite, representative of him tearing their marriage apart by his ‘confession’.

“I want to be loved, just like a cat”

And then his wife is shown to die, him bloodied from the animal and nothing but the facade left in the dust.

Kazui Mukuhara and Hinako Mukuhara were never meant to love. But in Kazui’s desperation, and Hinako’s love, they’ve created a lavender marriage(1) webbed in lies and deception— and the only way a love story like this ends is in tragedy.

—————————————————

Interrogation Notables

Who do you respect?

“You wouldn’t know them, but I have a childhood friend. I really look up to them. Sorry for bringing up someone you have no clue about.”

Do note that this “childhood friend” he briefly mentions has had he/him pronouns in a few translations. It is also notable that he mentions said childhood friend owns a boat. And guys like boats idk im grasping for straws here as usual

Is your family proud of you?

“No. They must find me embarrassing.”

Logic or Emotion, which do you prioritize more?

“I’ve failed before when prioritizing emotions. I’ll never act on my feelings again.”

Do you like yourself?

“Well, not really.”

If the world were to end tomorrow, what would you do?

“Relax and go traveling, I guess. That childhood friend I talked about before has a boat.”

Do you regret your “murder”?

“I do regret it. I should’ve continued to just pile up my lies.”

Do you want to be forgiven?

“I don’t know. I do think I want my weakness to be accepted, if I were to be honest.”

—————————————————

Extra Speculation/Key Notes

The René Magritte painting comparison is something that’s notably been pointed out since Cat’s release, being that one of the shots mimics a painting of René Magritte’s very closely— though, one would mark it as coincidence, the comparison and meaning behind the piece actually makes it appear intentional.

The meaning behind the painting ‘The Son of the Man’, or in Margritte’s words, is “Everything we see hides something else. We always want to see what is hidden with what we see but this is not possible. Humans hide their secrets very well.” This is clearly intentional, given Kazui’s open inability to just confess to his ‘lying’ himself- entrusting on Milgram to open up his mind and make him confess to something he has hidden ‘since he was young’.

The “bartender”, or as the fandom has dubbed him “Kazui’s gay lover”, is a very popular outsider character to Milgram due to his seemingly close connection to Kazui. He is shown in both the “Half” and “Cat” as a sort of friend to him— a connection to the bar he is familiar with, and even resorts to in rough times. In the “Half” MV he is notably missing a wedding ring, whilst at the “Cat” wedding he is wearing one.

Many people theorize that Kazui recognized he had feelings for this man, and that was his way of recognizing that he was gay, whilst the feelings were unreciprocated due to him being assumably married. In a shot in “Cat”, Kazui is seen staring into a glass, although it’s unknown where or whom he is speaking to. A line says the following:

“Hey, so what if I said I like-liked you, what would you do?”

This is post-wedding, clearly thanks to Kazui’s scuffed appearance. But that is in no-way you would speak to your wife, is it not? It is easy to assume that he is speaking to the bartender in this instance.

DO NOTE : It is possible the bartender is not featured in the “Cat” MV, and it happens to be a design incredibly similar. He was in the center of the shot though, and that’d be an insane coincidence IMO.

@prisoner-000 : “ The roles he takes on in the play (Soldier, office worker, host) are anchored in masculinity, at least in their societal perceptions. His actor costume is supposed to represent his status as an actor even more clearly. (There seems to be a recurring motif of him as an “actor”). “

@prisoner-000 : Portal interaction addition.

—————————————————

I LOVE YOU KAZUI! 🫡🏳️‍🌈

I hope this does him justice..

I put a lot of effort into this, it would mean a lot if you interacted so more people could see. Thank you for reading!!

#milgram #kazui mukuhara #mukuhara kazui #very mixed on how i feel #but innocent imo #007 #i forgot his prison number

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myfandomprompts · 1 year

Text

𝐀𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 | 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐖𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐀𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐌𝐞 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟑𝟎

Summary: The two Princes fight. You might see a solution.

Warning: mention of blood, insults, angst.

Masterlist (Part 29 - Part 31) [@enchantingcupcakecollectionfan you are a star]

You wished so hard that Aemond would look at you, just for a moment so you could tell him with your eyes to stop, to not do this, to be able to meet his gaze for just a second.

But it never happened. Since the moment the first blow had been struck, swords clashing against each other near Harrenhal of all places, Aemond was fixated on the battle, determined to put Daemon Targaryen into the dirt.

You were not feeling well, your insides were torn by anguish and terror, and you didn’t know if you even had the courage to watch the fight playing out in the field in front of you.

But soon you were left with no choice, the men holding you gradually letting you go as they moved closer to the scene, the crowd around them doing the same, leaving you behind and preventing you from seeing anything. The only indications that remained of the fight for you were sounds of grunting and yelling. The silence between two potential plunges of swords being the worst for you to bear.

You felt alone, not finding the courage to make your way to the front of the crowd as you heard crying coming closer to you, noticing Ser Sterron walking toward you with your daughter in his arms.

It was as if you had woken again, and you rushed to the freshly released Knight to take Naerys into your arms and strongly hold her, kissing her face to soothe both you and her alike, a tear running down your cheek in relief as you talked to her in murmurs. Your father had appeared beside you, laying his eyes on his granddaughter with fondness, seeing she had your eyes.

Around you, the crowd was gasping at one moment, and hissing the next as the two men fought, and you dreaded every second of it, not wanting to reach the instant where all would be silent, and fate would have decided.

“Father, please I can’t stand this! We cannot let this trial go on, Aemond, he will-!”

“I know dearest, but we cannot stop a trial by combat, it is sacred, and both parties have accepted. I am sorry.” he replied with pity in his eyes. You knew it was only pity for you.

You had argued with ardour, wording your fears over cries of anguish as you begged him to act. You would arm yourself and go yourself if you had to. But your father could only take you in his arms to stop you from trembling, pulling you away from the fight as if to protect you from the outcome of it. You were too feeble to struggle, and Naerys had stopped crying, the tears of her mother replacing hers. You slowly pulled apart from your father, wanting nothing else but to lose yourself in the eyes of your daughter for a while, maybe forget the horror happening around you. You tried not to hear the deafening noise coming over from the fight.

“My Lady, let me help you.”

It was the wet nurse, the woman who had brought Naerys to Daemon, and the only woman on your side of the field. You recoiled, taking a hastened step back as you recognised her. She was beautiful, long black hair, green eyes and her traits were thin, gracious. She looked older than you were.

“You-!” you exclaimed, but she raised her hands gently.

“I mean no harm my Lady. I have no affection for the Rogue Prince. I only wish to help you and your husband. I can be of aid, I can save him.”

You narrowed your eyes, clinging onto Naerys. “Who are you?”

“I am Alys Rivers, my Lady. I am the only remaining wet nurse in Harrenhal, hence why Daemon had left your daughter in my care. I did everything I could to protect her, please believe me.”

You watched her warily. Her name indicated that she was a bastard, probably from House Strong, and it was a wonder why Daemon had kept her around.

“What do you mean… you can save him?”

Nothing in her demeanour indicated that you could trust someone like her, someone who had been at the side of Daemon for a long while, but you could not help but be curious. She hesitated, but the sounds of metal brought both of you back to the urge of the situation.

“I am… known as a certain type of healer my Lady. I am versed in spells.”

You fully faced her. “You are a wood witch?”

You couldn't help the tone of judgement mixed with surprise in your voice, but she did not appear offended in the least, only cautious with your reaction. Wood witches did not have a good reputation for the maesters you had studied under, you had always been told that their trade would often cross the line of the morally acceptable. But you had always been fascinated by magic, and you had heard stories of their feats.

“It is another calling of my craft, yes,” she replied before taking a firm step toward you, reaching for your hands. “Please you must let me help you, I can make your husband win. He won’t die tonight if you let me bring you aid. I saw it.”

You didn’t recoil this time, rather examining her like she was everything you had been waiting for. Nonetheless, you could not let yourself be entrapped by your despair.

“Why would you want to help my husband? Why would you offer me such a thing?”

“When Harrenhal was retaken from Daemon by Ser Cole and your husband, members of my House were considered betrayers,” she explained. “In his wrath, Aemond Targaryen slain them along with my Lord, Simon Strong, but your husband spared me. He saw where my true loyalty laid. And for that, my Lady, I am indebted to him. He is not meant to die today.”

You were stunned. Your suspicions were confirmed: Alys Rivers was a bastard of House Strong, presumably the last member along with Larys Clubfoot, and doomed to serve the next Lords of Harrenhal. You did not fully understand why Aemond, with his known hate of bastards and of traitors, especially from House Strong, had spared this woman, but you were desperate, and her offer was growing more tempting by each sound of steel that was heard in the distance. You would do anything to ensure Aemond was to live, to be sure to hold him in your arms again. You repositioned Naerys decidedly into your arms.

“What is it that you need?” you asked, determined.

Alys nodded in gratitude, looking around to ensure that you would not be heard, your father glancing at the two of you from afar as she started to explain.

Her process was a mystery to you, but you would take no part in it, as long as it served your purpose. “An item is required, the stronger the link, the stronger the spell my Lady. Something meaningful to him.”

Your hands reached for the sapphire at your collarbone, the time when he had offered it to you a distant memory. But then your eyes landed on the dirt, where Aemond had been before, there, at the feet of the many men watching the very trial you intended to alter. His eye-patch.

Alys followed your gaze but did nothing, only nodding in encouragement and silently asking you to retrieve it.

“It must come from you, my Lady,” she declared.

You gave her Naerys before heading towards the end of the crowd, eye fixed on the leather eye-patch in the grass, taking care in not being swamped by the mass of people, and you delicately picked it up, not exactly sure of what you had agreed for. But you knew you had to do it.

When you returned to Alys and handed her the item, she bore a confident and triumphant smile as she gave you Naerys back.

“Will he be unharmed?” you asked in a trembling voice. Alys closed her hands over yours and gave you a hasty squeeze.

“He will be victorious,” she stated.

And she turned on her heels and made her way to the woods, disappearing under the shadows of the trees.

You had nothing left to do but to pray, for Aemond’s success, as well as for Alys’.

You could hear the combat still raging over the bystanders’ heads, their expression tensed in anticipation at each blow delivered to the fighters you could not see, but only hear. The length of the duel was not only unnerving its witnesses, but the combatants as well. Their blows sounded less frantic, more strategically placed, and you could now clearly hear them talk in High Valyrian with anger, their voices so scathing that you came to fear any clang of steel that would come directly after what sounded like a provocation in the old tongue.

You begged your father to act one more time, his renewed refusal rendering you hopeless and you could not bear it any longer.

You entrusted Naerys to your father and as the crowd gasped once again, you went to your horse left among the Lydden riders and placed yourself on the saddle. It allowed you to see the middle of the field where flashes of silver hair were twirling around in quick motions, but the many riders before you as well as the distance prevented you from seeing anything clearly. On your horse, you, however, had a clear view of the edge of the woods in which Alys had disappeared, and as you glanced at it you truly wished that whatever ritual she was performing would work.

The two men were moving at a restless rate and seething at each other. None of them seemed to be badly injured, but fear gripped you when Daemon struck a hard blow on Aemond’s defence with Black Sister and Aemond staggered, growling with rage when he managed to push his opponent again.

It was difficult to determine which of the two were the most frenetic, but Daemon’s stance seemed colder, more reflective, where Aemond’s was thunderous, pacing around to always face Daemon on his right side and grunting each time his blow was blocked.

Daemon Targaryen was saving his strength where Aemond was spending it, younger, fiercer.

They spoke words in High Valyrian to each other, at times so loudly that it echoed throughout the lake, and other times they were lowly uttered, seethed. You attempted to move your horse to have a better view, but you could not advance any further.

“Emā glaestan tolī bōsa, kepus,” Aemond lowly snarled, swiftly turning his sword into his hand.

“Va bona īlon ūndegon laes naejot laes,” Daemon responded.

Something flashed into Aemond’s eye and he launched at him swiftly, his hair flowing around him as in a raging blur, and soon someone’s head blocked your view again, leaving you with nothing else but the sound of swords clashing, wild growls and the crowd’s hisses.

“Y/N, I arranged some of my men to escort you back to Tumbleton,” you heard your father say as he approached on horseback, coming by your side holding Naerys. “Take your daughter and ride now, before-”

“You won’t have me out of here without him, father,” you lowly said, almost threatening. “You won’t have me sent away.”

Your father was utterly bewildered, torn between his desire to protect you and the child and your resentment at him if he ever forced you. “Y/N, we are without support here, and none of us could have foreseen this trial by combat. We must think about the fallouts, if the Rogue Prince wins, there is no Velaryons to stop him from-”

The pure dark look you gave him made him stop his sentence at once, the way your eyes glowed almost scaring him. You would not hear about Daemon being the one coming out alive. You could not.

Your father titled his head in sadness, but he would not give up. However, his next words died in his throat when you both heard the recognisable sound of flesh being cut coming from the field, and you turned your head so quickly it hurt, your blood turning to ice into your veins in fright.

You were certain that Aemond had screamed, but you could still not see them properly from afar, and blood rushed into your ears. The crowd suddenly fell silent, your breath stuck in your throat.

You saw a flash of metal and the sound of a sword digging into flesh reached you, and you were sure your heart stopped.

In the middle of the circle, you could decipher the form of someone falling on his knees, silver hair along with it. Then with a last effortful grunt, steel was swung in the air and so was the head of the Rogue Prince.

A faint animalistic screech of grief coming from the distance was heard, and resonated on the flat surface of the lake. All listened in silence.

But then murmurs started to rise among the gathering of people, and you dismounted in a flash, rushing to the only man still standing in the middle of the circle, pushing away the bodies that dared to stand in your way.

Aemond was panting, gazing at the lifeless body of his uncle, hand barely holding his bloodied sword as he sank on one knee and clutched his side.

“Aemond!” you shouted, taking hold of his shoulder as you closed in on him.

You tried to ignore the ill feeling creeping inside of you at the sight of Daemon’s head detached from his body, and quickly made Aemond lower himself for you to examine him, your father hot on your heels as he yelled after you.

Aemond was still looking at something in front of him, as if you weren’t even there, but he hissed when you lifted his vest to see the damage, the cloth sticking to his skin. Blood was flowing from his ribcage, and if nothing was done, Aemond would bleed to death.

“Is there a maester? A healer?” you cried out to the people around you, even to Daemon’s men who stood still on the other side, not knowing what to do after the death of their leader. “I need healing equipment!”

You saw your father shout in turn, certainly repeating your demands with more fierceness but your focus was on Aemond alone, taking his now very pale face between your hands.

“Aemond my love, please say something,” you whispered, voice trembling from the falling adrenaline of the recent event. He only gazed down at his hand, soaked in his own blood, like in a trance. Then he motioned to stand up, making you put your hands firmly on his shoulders as he groaned in pain.

“No Aemond please, you must remain still, let me treat you, you are losing a lot of blood.”

His silence was making you very worried as he indulged you, lowering himself again. You pressed your palm against his wound, hoping that it would be enough for the time being. Why was nobody helping you?

“Here, my Lady,” came a feminine voice beside you, and you hastily took what you were handed. With the white sheet, you wiped the blood as best you could and proceeded to try and muster your best healing instincts.

“Let me, my Lady. I can be of help. I can help him.”

It was Alys, who was crouched beside you and had given you the cloth, and you now noticed the several vials and herbs she had brought along with her. You didn’t even recognise some of it, but right now you did not care.

“I can do it myself, I have to,” you said, voice still shaking as you pressed the linen harder on his chest, the dark blood still flowing.

“Let her do it.”

Aemond’s voice was low, waned, but firm. He was barely looking at you, but his demand made you stop and observe him in bewilderment. After a beat you obliged, and Alys took your place, applying pressure on your husband’s chest and fiddling with her herbs and vials. You had nothing left to do but watch, slightly aside as you hoped that everything would be alright, and grieving the loss of his closeness.

“What is the meaning of this?”

From the far west side of the field, a sea of riders were making their way into your direction, a wolf painted on their armours and shields. They appeared to come from the direction of the castle, but had the look of people who had been travelling for days.

The man who had spoken had black hair and grey eyes. A Stark Lord.

Some of the High Lords from Daemon’s side came to him with the intention of speaking of the situation first. But Cregan Stark’s eyes soon landed next to you, where the owner of Black Sister laid, and then to Aemond on the ground. His grey eyes widened for a moment before they shot at the men on the other side of the field, to Adrian, still on his horse and to your father, metres away from you.

Both stood firmly, unfazed, prepared for anything the Wolf of the North had to declare. Soldiers as well as Lord high and low alike started to speak loudly, demanding retribution for the death of the Rogue Prince, their hate for Prince Aemond heightened by the absence of Vhagar and by his wounded state, rendering him vulnerable at last.

“He must die, regardless of the outcome of the fight! Many in the Riverlands died by his hand and the fire of his dragon!” yelled one of them. And soon others followed in the same vehemence.

Both Tarbecks and Lydden fidgeted nervously on their saddle as you protectively came to stand in front of Aemond and Alys, the latter still at her task. You remarked that some of the lords in front of you were not as revolted by the death of Daemon as their ranting companions, rather remaining calm and withdrawn.

“Lord Stark!” called your father, louder to be heard over the other Lords’ voices, and Cregan reported his gaze to him. “We came here with one purpose: to retrieve an innocent child who had been stolen from its mother by the Rogue Prince. All that followed was none of our making, only the greed of Daemon Targaryen. The fight that ensued was of his own volition.”

Cregan narrowed his eyes at him, and you could now see why the Lord of Winterfell inspired so much respect. His stance was strong as much as it appeared wise.

“Is it true?” he spoke, looking around. “Did Daemon abduct a baby that was not his own?”

Some Lords around him lowered their gaze in shame when others nodded at him, silent.

“It is the spawn of the Kinslayer he took,” explained a revolted Lord. “There was a good reason for our Prince’s deeds.”

“No action justifies bringing a baby in the trials of war for their own gain,” stated Cregan. “Even if it is our enemy’s.”

Some soldiers and lords gritted their teeth in frustration but dared say nothing more. Your father’s confidence grew wider.

“The child is now safe and returned to its mother,” he continued. “The fight that took place was a trial by combat, a fair fight under the Seven. No other act of aggression will occur after this. At least from our part. We are currently looking for a peace pact.”

You knew your father prayed for both his opponents to let them go unharmed and Aemond to say nothing that could endanger their safety. But the Kinslayer remained silent anyway.

“And yet here you are, with an army, at the gates of Harrenhal,” Cregan pointed out.

“We only wanted the child, and Daemon is not known for his mercy, my Lord. You must understand. Our numbers are far fewer than yours, we are no threat to you,” Lord Donnel remarked, and it seemed to convince Lord Stark. However, it did not please some of his allies.

“This is an outrage, the Kinslayer cannot be allowed to leave, regardless of the outcome of the trial!”

“A trial by combat is sacred!” roared Cregan suddenly, making everybody else jump in surprise. “The Gods’ will is to be respected, and if they deemed the crimes of the Rogue Prince worthy of death, then we are but humbled before their decision. We cannot pretend to make justice in their stead in turn.”

You relaxed, detaching your gaze from Lord Stark to look back at Aemond, who was still being cared for by Alys, even though he followed everything happening around him with fiery eyes.

“Tend to your wounded,” continued Stark. “My only wish for you is that no revengeful dragon comes for you until the agreement I heard so much about is passed. I do hope for the soon release of Jacaerys Velaryon, my Lords. Otherwise we shall see each other on the battlefield. A true one.”

Those words were the last he spoke before dismissing the entire mass of soldiers back to Harrenhal, with the order to retrieve the Rogue Prince’s body parts. You watched some of the bannermen come and take them away, their eyes shooting daggers at Aemond behind you but you stood your ground, waiting for them to depart far away from you, from him.

“I managed to stop the bleeding. He needs to rest now.” Alys called out for you, and you sighed in relief, walking by her side to help Aemond up.

“Thank you,” you managed. “For what you… for what you did.”

You would never know if it was truly thanks to her that Aemond had survived, thanks to her witchcraft. But the thought that you had something to do with it, even slightly, warmed your heart, chasing all of your previous terrors away.

“I told you he would not have died today. I have seen it.”

You did not push further as you brought Aemond to a litter one of the villagers had been asked to provide.

He was livid, and you could now notice the several other injuries that covered him. Valyrian steel cuts clean, they said.

As he laid down, wincing in pain, you reached for his hand, trying to tell him that you were here for him through the touch, but he barely responded. He had not looked at you once, the only words he had said were directed to Alys beside him, and you tried to ignore the pang of jealousy in your heart.

All that you wanted was to bring him as far as possible from his enemies, from the people who wanted him dead, but he didn’t look like he wanted to listen to you anyway.

-0- Part 31

SPOILER FOR FIRE AND BLOOD : High Valyrian translation: "You have lived too long uncle." "On that we see eye to eye."

@let-love-bleeds-red @crazylokonugget@jeyramarie@ephemeralninon@mrswhitethornbelikov@dudfahsn@missusnora@queenofterrasen418@honeytrapsblogp-graham@heathclifftragedyy @discowizard88@ivartheblessed@xceafh@bubbletae7@omgkatherine01@tzipora-art@signyvenetia @ml0103 @nsainmoonchild @lonadane @skythighs@bietchz@samnblack@mariaelizabeth21-blog1@projectcampbell @ripdragonbeans @caribbeangal@polireader@zillahvathek@moni-cah @literishdegree99 @a-beaverhausen @thekinslayer @maniccrystalhippie @princessofdarkwinter @isaxbella749@claudie-080102@ebaylee422@hydrationqueensworld@crumblychunksofheaven@officiallyunofficialperson@grungegrrrl@stargaryenx @dark-night-sky-99 @notanenthucutlet

#aemond #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond imagine #aemond x oc #aemond x you #smut #angst #prompt #fanfiction #aemond one eye #house of the dragon #hotd #aemond x original character #aemond x female original character #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x you #ywawm

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thecameronchronicles · 2 years

Text

I Mean It

TW: cheating. Smut. Language.

SUMMARY: A specific set of words lead your descent into Drew that much further, leaving you to wonder if he actually meant them…

WORD COUNT: 900

*Requested*

I Mean It

You knew it was wrong. And yet being with him always felt so right. It was a constant contradiction that came from his touch in competition to that pull within your stomach for breaking your vow of monogamy with your boyfriend. But with each try you would make to convince yourself away, he would perform in perfect lust, as always, which kept you beneath the thrall of this seduction. Which was no different from tonight…

Fingers embedded into the sheets beneath you, not even a hair could be placed between you, as he rocked into you from behind, cock buried within your sex as he curved over you. The familiarity of his body was always a sense of peace with the chaos through your mind, a specific way that his figure moved in companion to your own allowing you the ability to withdraw from any tribulations. But where he was usually a means of exorcising your trials, the sudden confession sudden from his lips would send this into retraction.

“I love you…” He confessed, your head quickly whipping back to view him as his motions stilled, his face worn in horror before resigning into search for an alternative. Narrowing his eyes to how your lips pulled into a smirk, finding this somewhat of a relief in opposition to the clear rejection he thought you’d give him, he would resume his motions. Only now, they were more thorough, the depth incomparable to times past, until you came to that precipice between relinquishment and rellishment.

“Fuck!” You chorused, his expression illuminated in knowing he was the cause for your cries, his motions quickening still as he pushed you beyond this high and into his own. And as usual, he would press a final kiss to your lips as if a signature of sorts, before pulling himself to the direction of the shower. Yet, there was something different about the way he’d sauntered behind that door, leaving it ajar as always to allow the steam to keep from consuming him wholly, before you followed his lead.

"Want me to get your back?" He asked as casually as he could muster while also trying to find any excuse to hold you close again, just as much as you wanted to be held by him again. For this, you agreed, slipping into the water in front of him before ultimately finding that warm stream. But just as you'd found this stream, his hands found you. As if he hadn't spent the last hour adorning your body with his hands and lips, tasting and teasing you, he was acting as a starved man as his lips embedded their way into your neck as you rested against his shoulder.

"So you're in love with me, hmm?" You asked as his body teased and his motions stopped.

"I shouldn't have said it okay, I was…I was in the moment and it just slipped out…" He spoke quickly.

"Drew…" The way your hands collected on his face and the tone spoken was enough for him to understand what was coming. Something he didn't want to face. Something he wasn't ready to accept. Because of that, he took your wrists to pull them away, but you only repeated his name and held him tighter.

"I hate knowing you're going back to him. That I get this…but he gets everything else…." He bowed his head as you bit your lip to his confession. The thing that made this so easy was the lack of emotion, the lack of careful articulation of words and thoughts. But now, it was inevitable and inescapable. And that was because you'd longed for those words.

"You want everything else? Everything that comes with that?" He began to nod, a slow bow at first, before ultimately climbing to one of devotion as his eyes fixated onto yours.

"I want all of it…with you…" Even as his voice echoed around you, it was still so frail as if some question lingered behind its timbre.

"Then give me a reason to stay, Drew…." His brows furrowed in confusion as you bit your lip before being lifted around him and pressed into the shower wall. The cold to your back and the chill it warranted was silenced by the heat of his lips and fire behind his touch, driving you to arch as he sank himself into you again.

"Is this reason enough?" He asked into you, pulling at your hair before you gasped while he set you down, turning you away from him and bending you over following a slap to your ass.

"IS THIS?" He grunted as you smirked.

"Drew-"

"Don't go back to him. Stay here with me-'' He spoke in more of a demand than a plea, even as his voice cracked to the pleasure of your clench around him.

"Don't let him touch you like this. Kiss you. Fuck you. Ever again. I want you to be mine…"

"Make me yours! Come, Drew!"

"Not until you do it first…" You groaned as he brought his hand to your clit.

"Come for me baby-"

"I’m-"

"Yeah?"

"I'm gonna-"

"Hmph?"

"Ahhhh-I love YOU!" You chorused, his body following your lead, before he pulled you to face him with that familiar dominance.

"And before you ask again, yes…I did fucking mean it…"

Taglist: @hopebaker @iovdrew @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @my-baexht-ls @slut4starkey @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @obxxrxfes @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @rafesbae

#drew starkey #drew starkey smut

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whorkn33 · 2 years

Text

blanket ghost breakdown

genre: angst words: 3139 warnings: mentions of death, being told to die, severe illness, vague themes of issues with abandonment and helplessness summary: Komaeda has the despair disease, and suddenly it's like he's not the same person. You're just trying to help, to keep him in bed and watch over him in case his condition tanks again, but he seems dead set on making that as difficult for you as possible. a/n: i wrote this on a bad day where i just wanted to get what i was feeling out of my brain, so here it is lol. im fine btw, just needed an outlet and decided to post it bc i like the final product

☆~☆

You’re exhausted. You haven’t slept in two days now, mostly out of worry, but partially because he won’t shut up.

Komaeda is laying in his hospital bed, rambling on and on about how much he just fucking hates you, about how he thinks you’re a worthless piece of shit and he wishes you died instead of anyone else. He’s cackling in between his words, talking so much he’s constantly out of breath.

He isn’t even looking at you anymore, tossing his head side to side as he giggles manically to himself. Every so often he’ll get a burst of energy and thrash about, screaming at you until his throat is raw to just leave him alone, get your ugly face out of his room before he vomits on his bedsheets.

You know logically he doesn’t mean any of it - that’s the nature of the despair disease, after all. But it still hurts. Komaeda had always treated you with nothing short of respect, even when you had your more clumsy moments. He had a weird, messed up way of communicating it, but you knew he cared for and respected you just as much as anyone else on the island.

Even after his breakdown during the first trial, you couldn’t find it in yourself to hate him. You wanted to believe he was just scared, like everyone else, and acting out because of it. You knew the others judged you for it, and you couldn’t exactly blame them. He’d done some pretty messed up shit.

Maybe you were just too empathetic. Or maybe Komaeda was just pretty enough for you to willingly put on a pair of rose-colored glasses.

Whatever your motivation, selfish or not, it landed you here. You’d been stationed with Komaeda, since you were the only one who could stand being around him for longer than two minutes, and your job was to make sure he didn’t do anything to hurt himself or anyone else, and call Tsumiki if his condition worsened.

You gave this job to yourself willingly, and while you don’t necessarily regret it, your patience is certainly beginning to wear thin.

You sat on a cool metal chair next to his bed and watched his lips form all the venomous words he spat at you, his face red and sweaty from his ridiculously high fever. His hair was sticking to his forehead, and though he usually seemed to be a bit colder than you, now you could feel the heat emanating from his body.

You knew he must have felt horrible. You had to try four times before he would finally drink some water, and even then he kept a bit in his mouth to spit at you. But the look of relief on his face when he felt the cool glass against his burning skin and sipped told you everything.

You kept a glass of water on the small table beside his hospital bed now, along with a blood pressure cuff he had nearly thrown at Tsumiki last time she tried to use it. You’d just barely managed to wrench it out of his sweaty hands - for how skinny he is, you didn’t expect his grip to be that strong, especially while sick.

He coughs suddenly, a rough and scratchy sound that erupts from deep within his chest. His brow furrows and his eyes squeeze shut, his whole face twisting into a pained expression that makes your heart ache. You stand and move behind him to rub his back until it passes; it’s the only time you can touch him without him trying to shove you away.

The moment he can draw a breath again, he’s back to talking. Back to insulting you, your talent, your friends, your entire existence. You sit back down in your chair and watch him lay back, fidgeting with the edge of the thin hospital blanket you’d thrown over him.

Tuning out his insults, you remember how scared you were when Komaeda collapsed in the restaurant. He’d let out such a choked noise, gasping for breath like he was being strangled, and his head collided with the hard wood floor before you could catch him. You remembered the panic that settled in your chest while you ran behind Hinata towards the hospital. That panic had simmered down over time, as you sat by Komaeda’s side, waiting for him to wake up. Eventually it pooled into your stomach, having concentrated itself into a feeling you could only describe as dread.

There was a scare for a moment, where you left for a drink and returned to find he had stopped breathing. You had helplessly pressed down on his chest, your knowledge of CPR very limited, as you screamed for someone, anyone to come help.

And then a few hours later, he opened his eyes, and for the first time in over 24 hours you felt hope.

It lit up your chest as you watched his eyelids flutter open, his pupils darting around the room for a moment before they landed on you. As you locked gazes, that hope died when you caught the look in his eye, unlike anything you’d seen from him before. It was like the boy you met on the beach that day had vanished, replaced by a stranger. His eyes were dark swirls of emotions you couldn’t place, unfolding onto each other and mixing into a whole new person. And then he had cackled at you, maybe your expression gave away your agony, but he saw it and he could do nothing but laugh.

“Hey! Aren’t you listening?!” He snaps you out of your reminiscing, and you realize you’ve been crying. You turn your head so he won’t see you wipe away the tears, but he’s smart even when he’s sick, so he catches on. Laughter bubbles up out of him. “You’re crying?! Seriously?! That’s pathetic! Weeping into your hands like a child who got their candy stolen!”

You rest your elbows on your knees and hide your face with your palms, covering your tired eyes so the sunlight pouring through the window doesn’t hurt as much. He only cackles louder, and you’re sure everyone on this floor of the building can hear it, but can’t bring yourself to care. If you have to hear him berate you like this, if you have to be kept awake by his never ending babbling, maybe everyone else should be too.

‘That’s not fair.’ You think to yourself. ‘You’re just cranky from lack of sleep and this headache you’ve got, don’t take it out on the others.’

Suddenly, it’s strangely silent, and your eyes snap up to him frantically. His eyes have slid shut, his chest rising and falling in time with his breathing, and you sigh in relief. He’s been drifting in and out of consciousness for the last few hours now, probably exhausting himself with all the fucking talking he’s been doing. You repress the urge to sigh, afraid that even the slightest noise could wake him.

You stare at his unconscious body and feel tears pricking your eyes again. You don’t fight them, letting them slip down your cheeks freely. You hadn’t had a moment’s sleep since this all began, and it’s weighing on you now, making you more irritable and emotional. You’ve had a headache for hours now that no over the counter painkiller could help.

Kuzuryu had brought you several drinks from the vending machine, so you would actually drink something - after the last time, you refused to leave him alone for even a moment, waiting until Tsumiki came in to check his vitals to use the restroom. You tuck a bottle of water under your shirt and open it very slowly and carefully, the fabric muffling any little sounds it makes. You take a drink and set it down on the floor beside you.

The room is a little chilly, but not so much that it’s uncomfortable. You lean back in your chair and cross your arms over your chest, letting your head fall back to stare at the ceiling. You kept the lights in the room off until the sun went down in an attempt to stop the pain in your eyes, but it didn’t do much. At least you didn’t have to deal with the constant buzzing of the fluorescents. The only sound in the room was Komaeda’s breathing and your own. Without thinking, you hold your breath for a split second to sync your breaths with his. You don’t even realize you’re doing it at first, and when you do notice, you’re a bit embarrassed despite nobody being around to witness it.

You’re always a bit embarrassed around Komaeda. It’s stupid, really, considering no matter what you did you’re pretty sure he’d still sing your praises unconditionally, but you’re still nervous around him. At first, you were sure it was just because of his breakdown, but as time went on and you continued hanging around him, you slowly realized it was just his presence that made your stomach flutter.

You pretended you didn’t know what it meant - now wasn’t the time for those feelings, not when lives were at stake. It was easier to accept your unease than to confront it head-on. Not the healthiest option, but certainly the easiest.

You hear a loud crash and it startles you out of your thoughts, your body lurching forward. Komaeda is on the ground next to the bed, having knocked over the small table next to his bed, sending the glass of water and the blood pressure cuff scattering across the floor. He pushes himself onto his hands and knees, grinning wildly and letting out a wheezy noise through his teeth. You notice the sun is much lower in the sky now, bathing the room in a golden light. You must have dozed off in your chair. That explains the ache in your back.

You get out of your chair and reach out to help him up, and he smacks your hands while he leans away from you, letting out a displeased grunt that you choose to ignore. You have to hook your elbows under his armpits and hoist him up from behind so you can get him back on the bed. He tries to steady his legs underneath his body, but they shake so hard it nearly throws both of you off balance.

“Fucking filthy,” Komaeda pants, clawing at the collar of his hospital gown as he lets out a wheezy, unhinged giggle that shakes his entire body. “You’re so fucking filthy, your hands have tainted me, I think I’m gonna be sick!” You ignore him, fluffing his pillow and flipping it over to the cool side before grabbing the thin hospital blanket and dragging it over him. The moment you let go, he grabs the blanket and flings it over you, and it drapes over your body and pools at your feet, turning you into a ghost before his eyes.

The sunlight can’t reach you under here, and the ache in your skull begins to subside a bit, despite his continued wheezing, babbling, and you have no choice now but to listen. He’s telling you how much he hates you, how disappointed he is in you, how he’s utterly disgusted by your presence. He laughs again and it rolls into a harsh cough. It sounds painful.

He doesn’t mean it.

“You look much prettier under there! Stay there! Don’t take it off, I might just leap out the window to get away!”

He doesn’t mean it.

“I can’t-” He burst into another fit of giggles. “I can’t believe how stupid you are! Don’t you get it?! I don’t want you here! Nobody does!”

He doesn’t mean it.

“I…” A wheeze, a cough, he’s out of breath again but he can’t silence himself long enough to fill his lungs properly. “... I hate you. I hate you so much. I wish you would just-”

Your legs wobble for a moment before you collapse to your knees on the cool tile floor. The blanket pools further around you, its warmth and weight completely enveloping your body. You’re reminded of being a child again, wandering through the house with a blanket over your head and pretending to be some kind of spooky spectre. You would bump into walls without fail every single time.

Your shoulders shake and you hold your breath to avoid sobbing, afraid of what he might say if he hears. Tears spill, but they’re hidden now. The only thing giving you away is how hard you’re trembling.

“You’re crying again?” He laughs. “At least your face is covered so I don’t have to see your pathetic face, even if your tears are soiling my blanket.”

“Shut up.” You whimper through your tears, and it sounds just as pathetic as you feel. You take a deep breath, hearing him shift around on the bed. He sounds a bit closer when he finally replies with a simple “Huh?”

“I said, shut up, Komaeda.” Your voice comes out more forceful this time, and you grip the blanket pooled on the floor around you until you’re sure your knuckles turn white. “Just shut up. Quit talking. For five minutes, please, for the love of god. I can’t…” Your voice shakes, throat tightens, and the tears start coming faster.

“Can’t what? Can’t stand to be away from me?” His tone is bitter, sarcastic, patronizing, but a sob finally escapes as you choke out a ‘Yes’ through your tears. You gasp for breath, and suddenly the dam breaks.

“When you were asleep, you quit breathing, and Komaeda I was fucking scared. I know you think everyone hates you, and some of them do, but-” You sniff, your nose is stuffy and your face is so damp with tears you’re starting to feel gross. “-but some of us actually don’t, and I don’t care if you don’t believe me. I thought you were going to die and I sobbed over you and I begged you to breathe again.”

He’s silent, but even if he wasn’t, you wouldn’t have been able to stop yourself and listen. It spills out of you like a waterfall and you don’t have the energy to force it to stop.

“I stayed, I haven’t slept, I haven’t eaten, I watched you this whole time because I can’t be away from you or else you’ll die.” You bring your hands to your face and double over, your hands the only thing separating your face from the floor. “I can’t let you die. I can’t, I won’t. But ever since you woke up, you look at me like- you don’t even look like you anymore!”

You swallow thickly. “Y-you don’t look like you, you don’t talk like you, it’s like you’re already gone. It’s like you already left.”

You’re surprised you managed to hold it together this long. You made it through two murders and two executions, watching your classmates drop like flies around you. You made it through night after night, laying in bed waiting for the next body discovery announcement. Waiting for the next motive. Waiting for a scream to rip through the quiet nighttime air, waiting to guess whose voice it was.

A barely audible squeak leaves your throat, a half-hearted attempt at continuing your rambling, but your lips can’t form the words. You press your palms over your ears, prepared to shut out another wave of harassment. You can’t handle another insult, you can’t handle hearing about how everyone hates you, about how you should be the next to die. It doesn’t matter that it’s a lie, because it’s coming from him. A boy you felt for. A boy you kept an eye on. A boy you were scared for, scared of losing.

Why did the thought of losing him hurt you more than it would - or had - for any of your other classmates?

The question echoes in your brain like a gunshot. You gasp between sobs, unable to form a coherent thought, much less answer such a loaded question. You just sat on the floor, stifling any noise as much as you could, wrapping your arms around yourself and squeezing your eyes shut, wanting to bury yourself in the thin white blanket until you disappeared into the fabric.

It takes you a good few minutes to collect yourself. When you yank the blanket off your head, your face is still stained with tears, eyes still red and puffy, breath still shaking with each inhale. Komaeda is on the floor next to you (you aren’t sure when he did that), his head hanging low between his shoulder blades, his breathing soft and steady. He’s asleep again, you think. That should make this easier.

You use the edge of the blanket to dry your cheeks, taking a deep breath before pushing yourself up off the ground. You toss the blanket over your chair and situate yourself behind Komaeda, once again hooking your elbows under his armpits and lifting him back onto the bed with a grunt. He stirs the moment you touch him, but you have him back on the bed before he can truly wake up. You toss the blanket over him, tucking it in at the sides as his tired eyes drift open and shut.

You’re about to return to your chair when a warm hand wraps around your wrist.

He looks up at you and his grin is gone, his face mostly relaxed save for a twinge in his brow. And there, for a split second, as you stand over him and mentally prepare yourself for another insult, you see it. It’s tiny, it’s fleeting, but you catch a glimpse of the boy you just got done crying over. He’s not gone forever - when he recovers, he’ll come back to you, and knowing him you’ll be enveloped in his arms. He’ll wrap his coat around your entire body and hide you away in his silhouette, spewing a constant stream of apologies, ways to make up for the things he said even if he doesn’t remember them. Something tells you he’ll remember this moment, your puffy red eyes staring down at him with a look that probably conveyed the unease and slight fear you were feeling towards him.

You sit on the edge of the bed. He doesn’t let go of your wrist, his eyes drifting shut a moment later. His long fingers hold you close to him, and you watch his chest rise and fall with his calm, sleepy breathing.

You watch over him silently as the sun finally dips below the horizon. His silence, despite his consciousness, tells you everything.

Maybe he actually gives a shit about you beyond your talent.

Or maybe he just went quiet because you told him to shut up. He’s pretty good at that.

#nagito komaeda #nagito komaeda x reader #angst #danganronpa #sdr2 #despair disease #gender neutral reader

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aifanfictions · 6 months

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Path of Valor

Chapter 7: Shadows of the Past

Days turned into weeks, and the trio continued their journey, guided by the radiant energy of the Heartstone. Their path led them through mysterious forests, ancient ruins, and sprawling landscapes, each step taking them closer to their destination. With every challenge they faced, their bond deepened, and the unspoken connection between Geralt and (Y/N) became a steadfast presence.

One day, as they ventured deeper into a dense, enchanted forest, they came across a quaint village nestled among the towering trees. The villagers welcomed them with curious but warm smiles, and it was clear that the Heartstone's presence was known in this secluded place.

A kindly elder named Elara approached them, her eyes filled with wisdom and a touch of sadness. She explained that the Heartstone had once belonged to her people, the Forest Guardians, and had been stolen centuries ago. Its return was long overdue, and they had been waiting for those chosen by the Heartstone to bring it back.

The trio listened with empathy as Elara recounted the story of their ancestors and the devastating loss of the Heartstone. They offered their assistance in returning the artifact to its rightful guardians, and Elara, touched by their willingness to help, guided them to the heart of the enchanted forest.

The journey through the forest was filled with enchantments and challenges, as ancient magic sought to test the trio's resolve. They encountered illusions, shifting landscapes, and trials that tested their hearts and minds. But with the Heartstone as their guide, they persevered, drawing strength from their unyielding bond.

At last, they reached the heart of the forest, where a towering tree, its leaves shimmering with iridescent light, stood as a guardian. Elara explained that this tree, known as the Heartwood, had been nurtured by the Heartstone's energy for generations. Its roots extended deep into the earth, connecting with the Heartstone itself.

With reverence, (Y/N) approached the Heartwood, and as she touched it, a radiant pulse of energy emanated from the Heartstone she carried. It resonated with the Heartwood, and a sense of fulfillment washed over her.

The villagers, guided by the wisdom of their elder, joined hands and formed a circle around the Heartwood. They chanted ancient incantations, and the forest came alive with magic. It was a beautiful, awe-inspiring moment as the Heartstone was returned to its rightful place.

The Heartwood absorbed the Heartstone's energy, and the forest itself seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. The villagers, their faces lit with joy, turned to Geralt, (Y/N), and Jaskier, expressing their gratitude for their selfless act.

As they departed the enchanted forest, (Y/N) felt a sense of fulfillment and completion. The Heartstone had found its true home, and the unspoken bond between her and Geralt had played a pivotal role in this journey. It was a moment of triumph, not just for their quest, but for the unwavering trust they had in each other.

Their path continued, and they ventured into a land plagued by unnatural storms and spectral apparitions. The Heartstone's radiant energy was their beacon, guiding them through the tempestuous landscape. They faced specters and wraiths, their battles fierce and unrelenting, but their shared strength prevailed.

In the midst of this turbulent journey, Jaskier, ever the optimist, found a way to infuse some humor into their adventures. With a twinkle in his eye, he suggested a friendly competition among the trio.

"Let's see who can tell the most outlandish, completely made-up tale," Jaskier proposed. "The more fantastical, the better. We'll entertain each other and keep our spirits high."

The challenge was accepted, and they took turns spinning fantastical stories of daring adventures, mythical creatures, and grandeur beyond imagination. Laughter echoed through the stormy landscape as they embraced the escapism of their own tales.

As the sky cleared and the storm subsided, they couldn't help but feel a renewed sense of purpose. The Heartstone's energy surged with newfound strength, as if it, too, had weathered the tempest and emerged more resilient.

One evening, as they camped by a tranquil river, the atmosphere was filled with serenity. Jaskier, in a mischievous mood, took it upon himself to play matchmaker for Geralt and (Y/N).

With a conspiratorial wink, he said, "I've noticed a certain fondness between our two beloved companions. What do you say we make this evening memorable for them?"

He proceeded to set the scene, adorning the campfire area with flowers and draping a blanket near the riverbank. He then took out his lute and began to play a tender, romantic melody.

Geralt and (Y/N), bemused but good-natured, decided to go along with Jaskier's antics. They took their seats by the river, the soft music serenading them, and their eyes met with unspoken understanding.

As the night deepened, they found themselves sharing stories of their pasts, their dreams, and the moments that had shaped them. The atmosphere was charged with a palpable connection, and their unspoken emotions seemed to hang in the air.

Jaskier, ever the astute observer, couldn't help but chime in with a playful comment. "My dear friends, it seems the stars have aligned once again. Perhaps there's a serenade in your future?"

The moment hung in the balance, and Geralt and (Y/N) exchanged a glance that spoke volumes. The connection between them was undeniable, a force that had been quietly growing since their journey began.

As the night wore on, they continued to talk, sharing stories, laughter, and the warmth of the campfire. The Heartstone, nestled beside them, pulsed with energy, as if it, too, acknowledged the unspoken emotions between Geralt and (Y/N).

It was a night they would carry with them, a memory of shared laughter and whispered conversations by the river. As dawn approached, they retired to their tents, the unspoken connection between Geralt and (Y/N) lingering like a promise of what the future might hold.

Their journey was far from over, and as they ventured into new territories, they carried with them the Heartstone's radiant energy and the bonds of trust, friendship, and unspoken connection that had grown between them.

NOTE! This story was generated by OpenAI

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basketofverbiage · 2 years

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Face Down pt 5

I’m a little scared to share this, but okay. Here we go.

tw: sex, violence, gun violence, minor character death, language, police, barebacking, top Jungkook, bottom Seokjin, they’re in love okay!

Seokjin felt like the next two months flew past. He spent at least two full days a week with his new attorney, Son Hyunwoo, trying his best to prepare for Kangdae’s upcoming trial. Shownu, as he’d told Seokjin to call him, was a soft spoken, gentle man when around Seokjin. However, Seokjin had heard from a few others that he was a hard ass in the courtroom. Shownu was working with the District Attorney prosecuting Kangdae to ensure that they had their ducks in a row and could send him to prison where he belonged. He was being charged with multiple counts of assault and battery, resisting arrest, and attempted murder. But in order to ensure that the case went well, Seokjin had to essentially relive every single thing Kangdae had done to him. In the midst of the trial preparation, they knew that Kangdae’s government appointed attorney was attempting to convince the magistrate to release him on bail. The first act as his attorney that Shownu fulfilled was following up with Detective Jung to ensure that the restraining order had been filed in the case that some idiotic judge let Kangdae out of jail.

Despite all of the intense therapy and trial preparation that Seokjin was enduring, he and Jungkook had met with Minhyuk a couple of times. The apartment was officially listed on the market after Minhyuk had toured the place and asked them to paint the entryway walls and the walls in the bedroom. The bedroom walls had had several scuffs where Kangdae had thrown things at Seokjin there and there were blood stains in the entry way that Jungkook had been unable to scrub off without damaging the paint. Seokjin honestly felt horribly guilty about not being able to do any repairs needed in the apartment, but Jungkook and Yoongi had ganged up on him and told him to stop complaining. Somehow, Taehyung had gotten ahold of Jimin’s phone number when Seokjin had been hospitalized, so he arranged an afternoon for Seokjin to spend time with him. While he was gone, Jungkook and Yoongi dove in and painted the walls and repaired any other little things they found around the apartment.

It had taken two full days to get all of Seokjin’s miscellaneous items that hadn’t already been moved out sorted. Most of his things had already found their way into Jungkook’s apartment, but the remaining few things found a home in Namjoon’s spare bedroom closet. Seokjin had decided to list the apartment as furnished so that he could sell it all together with the exception of the mattress. As far as he was concerned, the site of Kangdae’s most horrific acts against him should be burned in a raging bonfire.

Once they had gotten Minhyuk’s approval, the apartment actually sold faster than Seokjin had ever dreamed. It had sold to an adorable couple, Jooheon and Hyungwon. They actually offered more than the list price for the apartment with all the furniture, so Seokjin ended up making a sizeable profit from the sale. The relief of never having to go there again was worth more than the money to Seokjin in all honesty.

Just a week after the sale of the apartment had gone through, Seokjin got Wonho’s approval to go back to work. Seokjin would only be returning to his job on a part time basis for a while so that he’d have the time to continue trial preparation and his intensive therapy meetings with Wonho. He could tell he was finally beginning to make progress when the panic attacks went from a few times a week to one a week or so. It was a relief to finally be getting back to normal.

One seemingly normal afternoon, he left their flat to grocery shop. He’d wanted to make a recipe that his grandmother had made he and Namjoon when they were small. Seokjin had rediscovered her handwritten recipe when they had been sorting through his things to move them out of the flat he’d sold. The grocer was only a couple of blocks from the apartment and the weather was beautiful, so he had opted to walk. He spoke politely to Hyungwon in the elevator as they shared the space on the way down and set off to shop happily. Seokjin was beginning to feel normal again, and it was amazing.

He grabbed the things he needed to make the soup he had in mind then returned back to the apartment to put the meal on to simmer while he worked. When he approached the door, he was immediately put on edge as the door was slightly ajar. He’d been certain he’d closed it tightly and locked it when he left. Seokjin gripped the bag of grocery items tightly in one hand and his phone in the other as he bumped the door open. He peeped in and didn’t immediately see anyone, so he cautiously locked the door behind him and moved into the kitchen. After placing the grocery bag on the counter, he walked into the living room to see if Jungkook had gotten home early.

“Ongoo-ah? Are you home?” he called as he stepped around the corner. Seokjin walked into the living room to see his worst nightmare standing in the middle of the room. Kangdae had smashed the glass-top coffee table into a million pieces and had the largest shard in his gloved hand.

“Hello, Seokjin.”

Jungkook and Yoongi had been working a rather intense corporate function all afternoon. The formal environment filled with men in stiff suits and ties had been incredibly difficult to photograph in a happy light, but they had done their best. Jungkook had just gotten to his desk to load the memory card from his camera into his computer when his office phone rang. His cell phone had been on silent locked in his desk drawer during the event so he wouldn’t have any distractions. He quickly picked up the receiver and answered with his professional greeting.

“Ah, Jungkook. Thank god I reached you. This is Detective Jung Hoseok. I was calling because we were notified an hour ago that Lee Kangdae was released from jail on bail. His attorney succeeded in his attempts to get him freed. I have been trying to reach Seokjin for an hour and he isn’t answering. His phone goes straight to voicemail.”

Jungkook’s stomach sank. “Oh shit. I’d better go home. Seokjin is staying with me in my apartment next door to their former residence.”

“Something about this feels off to me, Mr. Jeon. My partner and I will meet you there.”

Jungkook didn’t bother saying his goodbyes to the detective, instead slamming down the phone and grabbing his coat, phone, and keys. He ran at a dead sprint out of the room and nearly bowled Yoongi over.

“Yoongi-hyung, I’ve got to go. They released that motherfucker from jail and the detective can’t get ahold of Seokjin,” Jungkook barked out as he brushed by.

“Oh shit. Let me grab my keys. I drove in this morning.”

Yoongi moved faster than Jungkook had ever seen him go as he fetched his keys and coat. On the way out of the building, Yoongi called their boss to let him know they had an emergency while Jungkook frantically tried to call Seokjin. Jungkook growled in frustration as his call immediately went to voicemail. He was trying not to panic, but he couldn’t help it. He could just feel it in his chest that Seokjin was in trouble. Yoongi, normally an extremely cautious driver, broke at least seven traffic laws in rushing them across town, weaving in and out of traffic with his emergency lights flashing. Their office was a solid twenty-minute drive from Jungkook’s apartment, but they made it in twelve. Yoongi barely got the car slowed down to park when Jungkook leapt out of the car, running toward the door. Yanking the emergency break, Yoongi left the emergency lights flashing in the loading zone before turning the car off and chasing Jungkook into the building. Jungkook had summoned the elevator and was shoving his way through several people exiting the cabin; Yoongi shuffled in beside him just barely before the doors closed.

“Why do I think that asshole is in my house?” Jungkook snarled.

“Because he said he wanted to finish what he started. But it’s okay. We’re here now,” Yoongi replied, trying to soothe Jungkook’s rapidly fraying nerves.

“I’ll kill him with my bare hands if he has laid a single pinky finger on Seokjin.”

The elevator dinged their arrival and Jungkook sped down the hallway to his apartment. The door to the apartment was closed and locked, but Jungkook slid his key into the door as quietly as he could. He and Yoongi glanced at each other silently before Jungkook eased the door open and they slipped into the apartment. Jungkook was trying to keep his cool until Seokjin whined. The sound swept through his ears and stabbed into his chest with rage and disquiet.

A loud slap echoed through the apartment, followed by a crash, and Kangdae screaming, “Shut up, whore. I’m here to give you what you fucking deserve for ruining my life!”

Jungkook rushed into the living room to see Seokjin lying in a shining confetti of broken glass from his coffee table and Kangdae with a large shard in one hand and the leg of the table in the other. He had the leg raised above his head to thump into Seokjin when Jungkook rounded the corner. Jungkook saw red and started across the room to stop him when Kangdae saw him. Kangdae dropped the table leg and yanked Seokjin off the floor, pressing the sharpest edge of the sliver of glass into Seokjin’s throat. He held Seokjin in front of him by holding one of his arms behind his back and the arm gripping the glass dagger across Seokjin’s chest.

“Go ahead. Play the hero again, boy. I’ll slit the slut’s throat before you ever get here,” Kangdae sneered.

The threat froze Jungkook in his place, watching as the glass began to dig into Seokjin’s throat more. Seokjin’s delicate skin began to tear, and a trickle of blood started down the right side. His terrified tears watered down the crimson a little as they mixed just under the edge of the glass and he stared into Jungkook’s eyes, begging him not to move.

“Kangdae-ssi, you don’t have to do this,” Jungkook murmured. “We can get you help.”

“I don’t want help!” Kangdae roared. “I want to end this piece of shit that ruined my life!”

Jungkook paused for a moment to think, frozen in place with his hands lifted in front of him, watching helplessly as the glass dug harder into Seokjin’s neck. “Please. Just let him go. You’ll never have to see him again.”

“And what? Just let you have him? Let him keep whoring around with the fucking neighbors?” Kangdae laughed and twisted the arm he was using to hold Seokjin up. Seokjin screamed at the strain on his shoulder, which only made Kangdae laugh more. “Does that hurt, Whore? I hope it does.”

Just as Jungkook was considering doing something crazy, he heard the door slam open. Jung Hoseok and Im Changkyun ran up beside Jungkook accompanied by several other uniformed officers. They stood, guns drawn and homed in on Kangdae.

“Kangdae-ssi, I need you to let Seokjin-ssi go,” Hoseok commanded.

“Fuck no. What do I have to lose at this point? This whore has already taken everything from me.”

Changkyun spoke up quickly from Jungkook’s left. “You’re still alive, Kangdae-ssi. You can walk out of this apartment in one piece, and we can help you get a new place to live and another job. Just let him go and drop your weapon.”

Kandae sneered at Changkyun but turned just slightly towards him. Jungkook watched Hoseok inch his way just a little further to the right, opening up his space. Changkyun kept speaking, offering empty platitudes and distracting him in an attempt to let Hoseok get in place.

“Come on. I know how angry you are, Kangdae-ssi. But this isn’t the way to resolve it and get your life back,” Changkyun compelled.

“NO!” Kangdae screamed. “I’m going to kill this piece of trash. I’M DONE TALKING!”

Just as Kangdae pressed the jagged fragment harder into Seokjin’s neck, Hoseok pulled the trigger. He’d been able to slip to the side enough to bury a bullet in Kangdae’s skull without injuring Seokjin in the process. The impact was immediate, but the terror mixed with the weight of the body dragged Seokjin down with him as Kangdae collapsed. Seokjin flung Kangdae’s grip off of him and crawled through the remaining chips of glass on the floor until he was close enough to fling himself at Jungkook. Jungkook held him tightly to his chest, allowing Seokjin to bury his face into his neck as they sank to the floor. Jungkook watched as Detective Jung leaned over Kangdae’s motionless body to check for a pulse while snapping his gun back into the holster at his belt. When it was apparent that Kangdae wouldn’t be getting back up, paramedics swarmed into the flat to check on Seokjin. The blood trickling down his neck had already begun to slow but he clung to Jungkook so hard that they eventually just gave up and allowed Jungkook to lie on the stretcher and Seokjin to lay down on top of him to ride to the hospital.

Yoongi had stood behind Jungkook and watched the whole scene helplessly but was calm enough to move his car into Jungkook’s parking place at the apartment building before climbing into the ambulance to ride with them to get Seokjin checked out better. Along the way, he called to tell Namjoon to meet them in the emergency room even as he held one of Seokjin’s shaking hands.

Namjoon had been the middle of a video call with an author he was working with when Yoongi called. It was a random hour of the day for Yoongi to be calling. He never called during work hours since their breaks and lunches never really aligned. Namjoon excused himself from the video call for a moment to answer Yoongi. He’d barely accepted the call when Yoongi’s voice shocked him through the speaker.

“Namjoonie?” Yoongi’s normally calm voice was tremulous at best.

“Yeah, Yoon? Are you okay?”

“Yes, but no. I need you to meet us at the emergency room, okay?”

Namjoon frowned. “The emergency room? What’s going on?”

“Baby, they let Seokjin’s psycho ex out of jail, and he broke into their apartment. Jungkook and I got there to their coffee table shattered and he tried to kill Seokjin again. He’s alive and conscious, but we’re in the ambulance to get him checked out.”

Namjoon rushed off the call and apologized to the author he’d muted on the video call. He promised to reschedule their meeting and ended the call. He practically ran out of the apartment, frantically hailing a cab as soon as he reached the street. The taxi driver must have been able to sense Namjoon’s urgency even and he tried to suppress it as he floored it then undercharged him as he dropped Namjoon off at the door to the emergency room. He hurried in the doors of the hospital looking for the information desk but was intercepted by Yoongi before he got there.

“God, Yoongi, what the fuck? Hasn’t my brother been through enough?” He gasped out as Yoongi pulled him into a tight hug.

“He definitely has. But he’ll never be submitted to anything else like this. One of the detectives shot that motherfucker in the head. That’s how they were able to get Seokjin free. He’s terrified and clinging to Jungkook like he’ll disappear if he lets go. The nurse popped out a few minutes ago at Jungkook’s request to let me know that his neck is being stitched up.”

“Stitched up?” Namjoon murmured.

“Yeah. Kangdae had a big piece of glass pressed to Seokjin’s neck. The cut is pretty shallow for the most part but apparently it was a little deeper towards the front. He also had some cuts on the bottom of one of his feet from falling out of his slippers onto the glass when Kangdae was shot. He’s okay, Joonie. But fuck, I was super scared watching.”

Namjoon and Yoongi walked to a small sofa in the corner of the waiting room. Yoongi pressed into Namjoon’s chest, still trembling after the ordeal. Namjoon was honestly still trying to process everything that had happened but wrapped his arms around Yoongi while he worked through the afternoon’s events. Holding his love helped to soothe some of the agitation ricocheting around his chest. He honestly couldn’t believe that some judicial officer looked at the documentation of Seokjin’s prior injuries and the testimonies of the arresting officers and thought, “Oh, he’s not that dangerous. Let’s just let him out of jail.”

Before Namjoon could have the time to get himself more worked up, a nurse wheeled Seokjin out of a set of double doors. Seokjin’s face was pale, and he still looked absolutely terrified, squeezing one of Jungkook’s hands so tightly his knuckles were white. But he was alive. Yoongi and Namjoon rose and walked over to intercept the nurse.

“Jinnie, I’m so sorry,” Namjoon whispered into his brother’s hair as he knelt in front of the wheelchair, pulling him into a tight hug.

Seokjin started to sob brokenly into Namjoon’s neck, even as his left hand still clung to Jungkook. They hugged for a few more minutes, then Namjoon pulled back.

“Why don’t you two come back to my apartment for a while?” he said, looking at Jungkook.

“Okay. Detective Jung said that they’d call when we are able to come home. They need to…um…do some cleanup.”

Namjoon could tell that there was more that Jungkook wanted to say, but he didn’t want to upset Seokjin further. So, they allowed the nurse to wheel him outside and Yoongi flagged down a taxi to take them all back to Namjoon’s apartment. Seokjin was so jumpy that he insisted on sitting near the door, so Jungkook squeezed into the middle of the back seat between the two brothers, and Yoongi rode in the passenger seat to help the driver navigate. Seokjin kept one hand on the door handle the entire ride but curled into Jungkook and closed his eyes during the trip to Namjoon’s apartment.

When they got there, Namjoon noticed the blood stains on both Seokjin’s sweater and Jungkook’s work shirt, so he offered them the shower and dug out some comfortable clothes for them to put on. Seokjin refused to shower unless Jungkook went with him, so they pressed themselves into the shower in Namjoon’s larger master bath instead of the smaller bathroom that Seokjin had used in the guest room when he was staying there before.

If Jungkook hadn’t known better, he’d have thought that Seokjin was going into shock since he was trembling all over, but the doctor in the emergency room had warned that he may have an adrenaline crash after the episode. While they stood under the shower in an unfamiliar space, Seokjin went completely pliant. He just stood limply under the spray, letting Jungkook move and wash him however he wanted. Once the soap from both their bodies had trickled down the drain, Jungkook turned off the water and dried them both. Yoongi had slipped in, placing a change of clothes for both of them on the vanity. Jungkook turned around to grab an outfit for Seokjin but was stopped when Seokjin whimpered in fear. Seokjin had begun to cry again; Jungkook just pulled him close, their shower-flushed skin pressed together, just pressing Seokjin further into his chest.

“Ongoo-ah, I’m so scared,” Seokjin whispered.

“I know you are, baby. But he can never hurt you again. Ever,” Jungkook murmured into Seokjin’s hair. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to protect you.”

Seokjin lifted his head where he’d buried his face into Jungkook’s chest. “You shouldn’t be sorry, Ongoo-ah. You came when you thought something was wrong. No one else besides Namjoon-ah has ever done that for me.”

They stood there for a few more moments, just staring into each other’s eyes, before Seokjin leaned up and pressed his lips into Jungkook’s. They kissed softly for a few moments, just a precious exchange of comfort and love between the two before finally getting dressed. Yoongi had gathered their dirty clothes to try to salvage the blood stains off the shirts when he’d brought the change of clothes in, so they walked into Namjoon’s living room to the soft swish of the washing machine swirling in its small alcove off the kitchen.

“Feel better?” Namjoon asked from where he was seated in an armchair with Yoongi in his lap.

“Much. Thank you, Joonie-hyung,” Jungkook replied.

Jungkook settled into the corner of the sofa. He’d wanted to leave extra space in case Seokjin wanted to lay down, but Seokjin had simply straddled Jungkook’s lap and curled into him to rest his head on Jungkook’s shoulder. The position reminded Jungkook of when he’d babysat Taehyung’s younger sister and she’d fallen asleep on his lap, her little face resting on his shoulder and her arms and legs octopus wrapped around him. Seokjin was sitting very similarly, making his taller frame as small as possible to curl into the safety of Jungkook’s gentle hold.

While the other three talked softly about nonsense things, Seokjin finally felt safe for the first time since he’d left the shop. In his mind, he knew he should never have gone into the apartment by himself. But at the same time, he really thought that it had been Jungkook coming home early. Sitting curled in Jungkook’s arms, with his gentle hands rubbing up and down his back, soothed some deep wound in Seokjin’s chest that had been reopened by Kangdae’s attack. He finally felt his tight muscles begin to loosen a little, and after a while, he drifted off to a wispy, cloudlike doze.

Jung Hoseok walked into his apartment just after 2 am, kicking his shoes off slowly before, slipping through the house. His husband was home already, sleeping soundly on his evening off, so Hoseok showered as quietly as possible before sliding naked between their sheets to slither over and hold Jimin in his arms. Jimin had always been a light sleeper, so the motion of Hoseok moving to hold him jarred him out of his dreams.

“Hi, lovey. What time is it?” he sleepily whispered.

“2:37 am. Go back to sleep, Minnie. I’m sorry for waking you.” Hoseok’s voice cracked on the apology, causing Jimin to open his eyes and properly look at his husband.

“Love, what happened? You’re crying.”

Hoseok gasped in a breath before saying anything else. “You remember that case I worked of the abusive boyfriend? He got released from jail and tried to kill the guy. I shot him in the head when he tried to slit his throat.”

“Oh, god, baby! You’ve really had a hard day. Come here,” Jimin uttered, rearranging their positions to pull his husband into his chest. “I know it doesn’t really change it, but you killed him to save someone else’s life.”

“That’s not why I’m upset,” Hoseok whispered. “I’m upset because I was glad I had a reason to kill him. He was awful, but I feel so guilty for wanting him dead for what he did to another man.”

Jimin didn’t really say anything else. In both of their jobs, they had to maintain a level of privacy. They couldn’t tell each other the people’s names that they helped, but they still shared the things that bothered them or made them glad they’d chosen their professions. He didn’t know the details of what this man had done, but he must have been a monster to make his empathetic treasure of a husband wish he was dead and to be glad he’d been the one to pull the trigger.

Yoongi was lying in Namjoon’s bed that night, his ear pressed just above Namjoon’s heartbeat. They’d spent the evening watching Jungkook hold Seokjin and comfort him after the traumatic events of the day, and while it had been a very taxing time, it had amazed Yoongi at how well his headstrong best friend had responded to Jungkook’s care. Seokjin had been fiercely independent their whole lives and extremely protective of the people he loved, downplaying anything bad or stressful he went through so that they didn’t have to carry the burden in any way. But something about Jungkook had fully dismantled that coping mechanism. It was amazing to watch Seokjin let go and let Jungkook carry his heart when it was too heavy or when Seokjin was too overwhelmed to continue.

“Darling, if you think any louder, it’s going to echo around this bedroom,” Namjoon teased. “What’s going on in your head?”

Yoongi huffed out a laugh. “I was just thinking about how fucked up this day has been. And how nice it is to see Seokjin letting someone help him for a change.”

Namjoon paused for a moment to slide his hand under Yoongi’s shirt to stroke the soft skin of his back, letting the gentle touch soak into Yoongi’s still tense body. “I mean, Jungkook did literally fight for him at a time when no one else would. He smashed Kangdae’s face and Seokjin’s barriers the night he intervened the first time. Just having someone who would try to break someone’s face on his behalf did a lot to let Seokjin trust him.”

Yoongi hummed his agreement. “Yeah. I think it also helps that Jungkook is gentle as a kitten when it matters. I just hope his whole thing doesn’t destroy the progress Seokjin has made with Wonho.”

The day had really taken it’s toll on Seokjin. He had taken a three-hour nap earlier after his trip to the emergency room, but it was now 10:30 at night and he was sleeping soundly in Jungkook’s arms. Jungkook could feel the terror and anger he’d struggled with all afternoon catching up with him but holding Seokjin in his arms while he slept had helped. He’d been really worried for a bit in the evening when Seokjin had been essentially non-verbal, just latched on to Jungkook and motionless on Namjoon’s couch. He’d been extremely jumpy as well, having nearly jumped out of his skin and bursting into tears when Namjoon’s tea kettle had whistled from the kitchen.

While Jungkook had made a concerted effort to keep his nose out of Seokjin’s mental health treatment (he knew that was a very personal thing), he’d called and set up an appointment with Wonho for the following morning. As much as he wanted to help, Jungkook did not have the skills to bring Seokjin back from this massive roadblock. Seokjin had seemed okay with it until Jungkook had reminded him that he’d have to speak to Wonho alone. He’d begged Jungkook to go in with him and sobbed in his arms. They’d finally come to the agreement that Jungkook would go with him to the office, even walk him into the room where Wonho would talk with him if he needed it, then Jungkook would go into the coffee shop next door until Seokjin was finished. Jungkook wanted Seokjin to have the privacy he needed to talk about things that he may not be ready to tell him, but he had to battle down the protective instinct that rose when Seokjin got even a tiny bit scared.

Jungkook laid there a very long time, pondering over everything that happened and sorting through his own emotions about it. He was immensely relieved that Kangdae would never again be able to approach or hurt Seokjin again. Death is exactly what Kangdae deserved, and as far as Jungkook was concerned, he’s lucky that Detective Jung had been the one to kill him. Smashing that thought down, he snuggled deeper into Seokjin, who in turn nuzzled closer into Jungkook until his lips were pressed into Jungkook’s collarbone and his sleep-deepened breaths sighed into Jungkook’s bare shoulder. The feel of Seokjin’s breaths lulled Jungkook out of his thoughts and into dreams of his own.

Seokjin woke up the next morning in a haze of terror. Namjoon had dropped his coffee cup in the kitchen and the sound of the smash ripped Seokjin out of pleasant dreams straight into a panic attack. The sound of Seokjin hyperventilating into his chest roused Jungkook, who leapt straight to trying to slow Seokjin’s anxiety. He’d gotten incredibly good at it and Seokjin was slightly annoyed that Jungkook had to do this so often that he’d mastered settling him.

As soon as Seokjin had calmed down enough to be able to breathe normally, they’d gotten up. Namjoon, of course, felt terrible for waking him that way and had apologized profusely while Yoongi grumbled.

“Joon-ah, your clumsy ass is a walking timebomb,” Yoongi fussed as he steamed eggs and buttered toast for their breakfast.

While everyone else sipped coffee, Seokjin steeped chamomile tea. He’d found that caffeine made his anxiety worse, and he was currently vibrating at a frequency that could probably be detected from outer space, so coffee would have been disastrous. They all ate quietly before parting ways to get ready for the day. Namjoon and Yoongi would be returning to work this morning to try to sort the messes left in their wake from the day before. Jungkook would be accompanying Seokjin to therapy then they’d planned to have lunch with Taehyung. As they were getting dressed to leave, Detective Jung called to let them know that they’d be able to go back home after 2 this afternoon. Since he’d called Jungkook directly, he’d mentioned that they’d gathered all the evidence and taken photos before the body had been removed the night before and that a team of professional crime scene cleaners would take care of the space. That way all evidence of Kangdae’s death would be missing from their living room. Jungkook figured that they’d have to buy a new coffee table and maybe a new rug if the stains couldn’t be removed, but that was a small price to pay not to have to scrub brains off the furniture themselves.

Jungkook was impressed with the determination with which Seokjin left Namjoon’s flat that morning, but watched his resolve start to flag the closer they got to Wonho’s office. When they arrived outside his therapist’s office, Seokjin had to stop and take a deep breath.

“Ongoo-ah, I know Wonho is a good man and won’t hurt me, but I’m honestly scared shitless.”

Jungkook pulled Seokjin into a hug. “I know, baby. You’ve had a scary couple of days. But he’s going to help, just like he did before.”

The hug seemed to bolster Seokjin’s courage as he was able to walk into the office holding Jungkook’s hand. He introduced Jungkook to his therapist and to Kihyun (who’d been manning the reception desk) as his boyfriend. That was new. They’d never given their relationship titles before, but hearing “This is Jungkook, my boyfriend” come out of Seokjin’s mouth lit Jungkook up like a fireworks display. They chatted amicably for a few more minutes, and that seemed to be enough to calm some of Seokjin’s fears. He pulled Jungkook into a sweet kiss, then let go of him for pretty much the first time in 24 hours to walk behind Wonho into a room to talk. Pride at Seokjin’s strength bubbled up and Jungkook just smiled at Kihyun before excusing himself to the coffee shop next door.

Two hours later, Seokjin walked out of Wonho’s office considerable lighter. Wonho had been able to remind him that he was the victim here and should not feel responsible for Kangdae’s death, which he’d been struggling with. He could acknowledge that he hadn’t pulled the trigger or fired the shot that had ended his life, but he’d felt like if he hadn’t agreed to press charges that this may not have happened. Wonho had straight up told him that if Seokjin hadn’t agreed to press charges, there was a really good chance that Kangdae may have killed him. Kangdae was a sick man who needed mental help and to be weaned properly off the many substances he’d gotten addicted to, but his death was the consequence to decisions that he’d made on his own. Seokjin could not take responsibility for those actions.

Jungkook had been sitting at a small table by the window of the coffee shop so that he’d be able to see Seokjin walk up. Seokjin walked up to him and stole the mug he was sipping from out of his hands, being pleasantly surprised to get a mouthful of hot cocoa instead of the dark roast coffee with cream Jungkook favored.

“I figured you might do that, so I opted for cocoa in case you were still anxious,” Jungkook giggled at Seokjin’s confusion. “Ready to go meet Tae for lunch?”

Seokjin downed the last of Jungkook’s cocoa like he was taking a shot before grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the door. They walked hand in hand to the subway to catch a ride to the café that Jungkook and Taehyung favored across town. They loved the café because it was one of the cafés in the city that offered small, cute animals to play with alongside the meal. This particular café catered more towards bunnies.

“No wonder you like this place,” Seokjin laughed when he saw the bunnies hopping happily around the café. “I’m amazed they haven’t tried to keep you, Ongoo-ah.”

The three spent the next few hours sharing lunch and playing with the bunnies, which unsurprisingly seemed to favor Jungkook. As soon as he’d sat down at the floor-seating style table, three separate bunnies hopped over to nuzzle him. A small black one flopped across one of his thighs and took a nap as he stroked its ears with his fingers.

“Ah, hyung! I see you’ve met our newest friend,” their waiter, Soobin, said with a smile when he dropped by with a refill of their drinks. “His name is Soktan. He’s just a baby and has been really timid so far, but he’s only been here a week.”

Seokjin pouted a little at first because many of the small, fuzzy friends seemed to ignore him in favor of Jungkook and Taehyung. It didn’t take long for one of them to get curious about him though. A larger white lop-eared rabbit climbed into the space between where his legs were pretzled under the table and nosed at his hand until he began to stroke its back gently.

“Baby, the sweetie in your lap’s name is Danggeun. She was actually abandoned on the doorstep but hopped in and made herself at home in a big bag of carrots,” Jungkook explained. “All the babies here are available to be adopted to good homes.”

“I’m kind of surprised you’ve never taken one home, Starboy,” Taehyung said.

“Maybe one day. There for a while I was so busy looking for a place to live and getting settled into my job better. I’d love to have a bunny or two someday though.”

After a couple of hours, Taehyung had to get going as he’d signed up for a new art class being offered to his apartment building and they were going to be learning pottery that afternoon. Seokjin and Jungkook bid goodbye to their little bunny friends and started out the door but were stopped before they could open in so that Soobin could catch Soktan who’d been hopping as quickly as he could behind Jungkook. Jungkook paused to pet him one more time as Soobin held him before they left to head back to their own apartment.

Jungkook had anticipated that Seokjin might be anxious about returning to their apartment after the events that had taken place there the day before, but he actually seemed perfectly calm as they took the lift0. to their floor. Jungkook kept an eye on him as they walked down the hall and paused to unlock the door. He was still perfectly calm, which was kind of amazing considering the ordeal he’d been through.

“I already talked to Yoongi-hyung, and he’s going to come by Saturday and help me change the lock on the door. It seems to latch okay, but I’m wary of it since Kangdae was able to pick it so easily,” Jungkook advised as they slipped their shoes off.

The apartment smelled slightly of some industrial cleaner, but looking at the living room, there was no way to tell that anything had happened there. Seokjin sat down in his favorite place on the sofa and patted the space beside him to encourage Jungkook to sit down beside him. He waited a moment for Jungkook to get comfortable before he reached out and took his hand.

“Thank you for today, Ongoo-ah. The bunnies were adorable,” he said with a smile, playing with Jungkook’s fingers.

“I’m glad you liked them,” Jungkook grinned. “We can go back anytime you like.”

They sat there in silence for a few moments before Seokjin lifted Jungkook’s arm to wrap it around his shoulders. “Ongoo-ah, I don’t know why but I feel like I can’t get close enough to you today.”

Jungkook laughed a little bit before pulling Seokjin a little closer to his chest. “How’s this, Baby?”

“Better, but still not close enough,” Seokin murmured before leaning back against the arm of the couch and pulling Jungkook more on top of him.

He hummed a little before Jungkook pressed a soft kiss to his lips, “How about now?”

“Closer,” Seokjin whimpered against his lips before tilting his head to deepen the kiss.

They’d kissed before, so many times. Seokjin adored the way Jungkook tasted and the way he let him lead their relationship, but Seokjin hadn’t been ready to do more than kiss for the most part. Even as he licked the seam of Jungkook’s lips and slid his tongue into his willing mouth, Seokjin realized that Kangdae had shattered something inside him the day before. Kangdae had been holding glass and threatening to slit his throat, and all Seokjin could think about was how he missed Jungkook even from across the room. The biggest part of the fear he’d been held captive by was that he was terrified he’d never see Jungkook again. Seokjin ran his tongue across Jungkook’s and swallowed down the gasp of pleasure that Jungkook let out before breaking the kiss to look into the other’s eyes.

“Ongoo-ah, you still aren’t close enough,” he sighed, teasing the tip of his nose across Jungkook’s cheek. “I need you inside me.”

“Seokjin, baby,” Jungkook moaned. “Are you saying what I think you are? You don’t have to do anything you aren’t ready for.”

“Yesterday, all I could think about when he was holding me hostage and threatening to kill me was that you were across the room, and I missed you. And how I couldn’t bear the thought of never seeing you again. I love you, Jungkook. So much. And I need you closer, need you inside me.”

That seemed to break Jungkook’s resolve. He kissed Seokjin hard, sucking his tongue into his mouth before nibbling on his bottom lip. He pulled away a little, leaving them both panting.

“Let’s do this right,” he whispered before standing and lifting Seokjin off the couch.

Jungkook carried him bridal style down the hallway to their shared bed and gently laid Seokjin on the bed before laughing softly.

“RJ, love, I need to relocate you. You are too innocent to see what we’re going to do,” he said before carrying the plushie into the living room. He came back to the bedroom to find Seokjin laying back on the bed shirtless and his borrowed pants dipped low enough that Jungkook shivered at the revealed skin. Jungkook stripped his own shirt off and tossed it toward the hamper in the corner of the room before climbing on the bed to kiss Seokjin again. Seokjin spread his legs so that Jungkook could position himself in between them as he started to kiss down Jungkook’s neck.

“Fuck, Ongoo-ah. You look so good. I’ve wanted you since the first time you helped me shower. I just had to get my mind to agree with my heart and body,” Seokjin groaned before sucking the skin over Jungkook’s collarbone into his mouth.

For the first time, Jungkook let his hands wander. He’d been so careful not to touch Seokjin, but now that he’d been given permission, he didn’t know where to touch first. He stroked his hands down Seokjin’s chest to graze back up over his sides, bypassing his nipples, as he licked and sucked red marks down Seokjin’s neck to the top of his chest. On the next pass, he teased his fingertips just underneath the waistline of Seokjin’s pants as Jungkook sucked his left nipple into his mouth. Seokjin moaned loudly and bucked his hips up into Jungkook’s and slid his own hands down Jungkook’s pants to get both hands on his ass. Using the leverage he’d gained by the handfuls of flesh he’d grabbed, Seokjin pressed on Jungkook’s hips to grind them against one another a few times. Seokjin had been semi-hard since they’d been making out on the couch, but with the friction of their hips combined with the loose pants they’d both been wearing, he was quickly ready to go.

“Goddamn, baby. We have to get these pants off. Namjoon will kill me if we get cum on the pants he loaned us,” Jungkook muttered before kicking his own pants off.

Seokjin lifted his hips off the bed so that Jungkook could yank the offending garment off his legs and toss them off the bed. Once they were both fully nude, Seokjin pulled Jungkook back down into a searing kiss as he wrapped his legs around Jungkook’s tiny waist. The shift was enough to press their erections together, the pleasure of skin on skin shooting a whimper up Seokjin’s throat as Jungkook sucked another hickie on Seokjin’s shoulder.

“Ongoo-ah, please,” he begged when Jungkook peeled his legs from around his waist to start kissing down Seokjin’s body.

“Shh, baby. Gotta get you ready for me, okay?” Jungkook kissed the words into his skin as he licked his way down Seokjin’s abs. “I promise I’ll make you feel so good, baby.”

Seokjin had been in such a haze since he’d admitted that he wanted Jungkook inside him that he’d somehow missed Jungkook getting out a condom and some lube. By this point, Jungkook was kissing the inside of Seokjin’s thigh even as he warmed some of the lube on his fingers. When it was warm enough to be less of a shock, Jungkook locked his eyes on Seokjin as he softly traced his finger around the pucker of Seokjin’s hole. Jungkook planted one last kiss on Seokjin’s thigh before sucking some of the skin there into his mouth and biting down just enough to leave a mark; at the same time, he slowly started to press a finger into Seokjin. The sting of the bite with the pleasure of having part of Jungkook inside him made him cry out louder than he’d intended.

Seokjin lifted one hand to press across his lips to buffer the next sound but dropped the hand limply on his chest when Jungkook growled, “Baby, don’t you fucking dare. Wanna hear every sound you can give me.”

Jungkook kept up the slow slide of one finger in and out of Seokjin until Seokjin thought he’d die from anticipation. Seokjin begged for a second finger for a few minutes as Jungkook leaned up and sucked one of his balls into his mouth. The gentle suckling made Seokjin lose all coherency for a few moments until Jungkook finally released that one to suck the other into his mouth in tandem with working a second finger inside Seokjin. Jungkook continued this for a few moments, before leaning up to slide his tongue up the underside of Seokjin’s cock.

“No, don’t, Ongoo-ah. If you suck my cock, I’ll come,” Seokjin begged. “Wanna come with you inside me properly.”

“Okay, baby. Be patient, okay? Need at least one more finger before you’re ready.”

Seokjin honestly expected Jungkook to slip a third finger in but glanced down with his eyebrows furrowed when he slid both fingers completely out. He’d been using one hand up until this point, but now he slid the index fingers of both hands inside Seokjin and stretched him enough to slide his tongue in between them. He fucked his tongue in and out of Seokjin for a few minutes, moaning obscenely into his hole like Seokjin was his favorite ice cream. Seokjin started to squirm as he started to feel that familiar burn in his lower abdomen.”

“Goo-ah, hurry. Get inside me. I’m ready. Please, so ready,” he whined.

Jungkook slid his tongue out and plunged three fingers inside to make sure that Seokjin was stretched enough not to get hurt before he sat up on his knees and grabbed the condom off the bed. Before he was able to tear the foil, Seokjin stopped him.

“No. Wanna feel you, only you. We’re both clean,” he said.

After double checking that Seokjin was sure, Jungkook grabbed the lube. He met Seokjin’s hungry gaze as he held the tube up and drizzled lube along the length of his cock. He spread it out with a few slow strokes before leaning up to kiss Seokjin. The tip of his cock brushed gently against Seokjin’s entrance as they kissed, and Seokjin pressed against it as he wrapped his legs around Jungkook.

“Ready, baby?” Jungkook asked, slapping the tip against Seokjin’s hole a few times.

Seokjin nodded frantically, then keened with pleasure when Jungkook finally pressed his tip inside. Jungkook paused for a moment to check that Seokjin was okay and to kiss him gently before inching his way further inside. Seokjin was so worked up that he kept begging Jungkook just to slam fully inside, but Jungkook took his sweet time.

“No, baby. This is our first time and I’m going to make this last,” Jungkook replied.

When their hips were finally flush against each other, they kissed deeply as Seokjin adjusted. Seokjin loved how full he felt and buried his fingers in Jungkook’s hair, just relishing the slight pressure and burn, before circling his hips. Jungkook moaned into his mouth at the motion, and Seokin nibbled on the freckle on Jungkook’s bottom lip.

“Goo-ah, move,” Seokjin panted. “Come on and fuck me.”

Jungkook finally listened and Seokjin would swear he saw fireworks every time Jungkook slid deep inside him. Seokjin held Jungkook chest to chest even as Jungkook thrust inside him. Every press inside him caused Jungkook’s skin to rub against Seokjin’s cock, lighting him up inside.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so tight,” Jungkook growled into Seokjin’s open mouth.

Seokjin had lost the ability to kiss him properly, but still kept his lips where they’d rub against Jungkook’s. He was so lost in the pleasure that he was caught off guard when Jungkook leaned back and draped Seokjin’s knees across his bent elbows. Just lifting them that much shifted the angle enough that Jungkook’s tip pushed against Seokjin’s prostate on the next thrust.

“There, Ongoo-ah. Oh fuck, right there.”

It only took a few more thrusts this way, with Jungkook’s cock zeroed in on Seokjin’s prostate, for him to tip over the edge and spurt cum all over his own tummy. Jungkook fucked him through it then leaned back to pull out, but Seokjin stopped him.

“No. Want to feel you come inside me. Please Ongoo-ah, please,” Seokjin pleaded.

Jungkook moaned loudly before speaking. “Okay, baby. I’ll come inside you.”

Jungkook kept up the same steady rhythm but lowered Seokjin’s knees back down so he’d stay off his prostate. Seokjin leaned up to kiss him, pressing encouragements into Jungkook’s shoulders, neck and jaw.

“That’s it, Ongoo-ah,” Seokjin moaned when Jungkook thrust in as deep as he could. “Fill me up, just like that.”

Something about Seokjin begging to be filled up pushed Jungkook over the edge and he came hard inside of Seokjin. He stayed as still as possible to catch his breath for a second before pulling out. Jungkook watched as Seokjin’s entrance fluttered from the sudden emptiness and his own release started to dribble out onto the bedsheets. Jungkook got up after a few more kisses pressed to Seokjin’s thighs and calves then grabbed a warm cloth from the bathroom to clean them up. He’d been quick enough that the bedsheets weren’t too ruined, so he wiped the few streaks that had soiled them up then climbed into bed to pull Seokjin closer to him.

They shared sweet kisses in each others’ arms as they came down from the high. Seokjin reveled in the warmth and safety of Jungkook’s love. He wasn’t sure that any man (apart from the friend he’d given his virginity to, but that was a different situation) had ever treated him this well. Seokjin had dated and had boyfriends before. While Kangdae was the worst of the bunch, the others were generally nice and treated him decently. But he’d never been with anyone where he could feel the depth of their love for him burn into his skin with every kiss or touch like he could with Jungkook. For all of the fact that his love sank into Seokjin like a brand with every caress, Seokjin knew he’d display the marks on his skin with pride.

“I love you so much, Ongoo-ah,” he murmured into the flesh of Jungkook’s chest that was protecting his heart.

“Love you, Baby.” Jungkook’s vocalization of love stayed with Seokjin long after they’d been said, echoing in his ears even as he fell asleep in his arms.

The next morning was Saturday, so they were able to wake up gently on their own, no pressures of getting ready for the day or alarm clocks to disturb them. Jungkook woke first, his limbs still feeling loose and relaxed from the activities of the night before. Seokjin was still sleeping with his face on Jungkook’s shoulder and his nose grazing Jungkook’s jawline. Jungkook honestly felt the relief of Kangdae no longer being an issue melded with an insane amount of adoration for Seokjin just flooding every cell in his body. He pressed gentle kisses to Seokjin’s forehead and then his nose, reveling in the sheer sweetness when Seokjin wrinkled his nose at the press of lips. Jungkook giggled at the disgruntled expression Seokjin had at first when he woke up until his eyes met Jungkook’s; then Seokjin smiled the cutest, in love smile, and Jungkook’s heart ached in his chest with love.

“Good morning, my baby,” Jungkook murmured, his voice still crackly and deep with leftover sleep.

“Hi, Ongoo-ah.” Seokjin essentially spoke the words into Jungkook’s lips. “It’s always a good morning to wake up to you.”

“How are you feeling this morning?” Jungkook asked gently. He fully anticipated that Seokjin might be a little sore, both from their lovemaking and from the attack he’d endured.

Seokjin wiggled around a little, seeming to take stock of his own body. “Well, my neck is a little achy from the stitches, and my muscles are a little sore from being so tight from fear. But otherwise, I still feel so good. I love that morning-after-good-sex ache and knowing it’s from you just makes it so much better.”

Before Jungkook was able to say anything more, there was a hard set of knocks at the door. Considering the fact that they were both stark naked under the sheets, Seokjin let out a squeaky cackle at the look of terror in Jungkook’s wide eyes as he jumped out of bed. They’d both invested in bathrobes when Seokjin had moved in, but Seokjin had gone for an unconventional robe because he loved the feel of silk against his skin. Since he’d technically chosen it out of the women’s section of the store, it was a little shorter than a normal men’s robe. Seokjin’s robe was the only one sitting out where it could be grabbed quickly, so Seokjin laughed hysterically as Jungkook slipped the pale pink silk with lace cuffs around the sleeves and dashed out of their bedroom to open the door. The robe itself was just barely long enough to cover his interesting bits, but it would have to do.

Jungkook jogged through the apartment, still tying the flimsy pink fabric around his waist. Luckily, Seokjin was much broader than Jungkook through the shoulders, so most of his chest was covered minus about what would show in a v-neck tee. Just as he tied the belt, he jerked the door open to find Yoongi on the other side of the door with a tool bag in hand. Jungkook felt his entire face turn strawberry red as Yoongi’s eyes roamed over the insubstantial clothing and catch on a spot on his chest. Glancing down to see what he was staring at, Jungkook was even more mortified to find Yoongi staring at a magenta bite mark Seokjin had painted across his skin.

“Have fun with my hyung, Jungkookie?” Yoongi dryly commented.

Before Jungkook was able to stutter out a response, Seokjin appeared at his side in a stolen pair of Jungkook’s sweatpants and a tank top he exclusively wore at the gym for arm day. Seokjin had obvious marks proudly displayed across his chest and shoulders; if Jungkook wasn’t about to die from sheer awkwardness, he’d have been thrilled to see his handiwork decorating the man he loved.

“Yoongichi, stop harassing my boyfriend! I asked him to fuck me, and he did. So, so well.”

“Hyung, I honestly don’t want to know what depravity you two get up to. I’m just a little concerned about what Namjoon is going to say when he gets here after picking up breakfast,” Yoongi whined.

“Oh god,” Jungkook groaned as he covered his flaming cheeks.

“God can’t help you now, you deviant!” Yoongi snarked. “But you might want to go put on some pants because I don’t want to see your barely covered junk.”

Seokjin cackled as Jungkook practically sprinted back to their bedroom, using both arms to hold the silk bathrobe as tightly to his body as possible. Once Jungkook had closed their bedroom door to change, Seokjin lead Yoongi into the kitchen to brew a pot of coffee. Yoongi found safety in silence, and Seokjin was aware of that, but something about the quiet he was currently portraying made Seokjin pause.

“Say what you need to say, Yoongichi. I can feel it eating you up,” Seokjin commented as he pulled some mugs out of the cabinet once the coffee started to drip.

“Are you okay, hyung? Like for real?” Yoongi replied after a moment. “Don’t you think you’re moving a little fast with Jungkook?”

Seokjin took a deep breath in before turning to look at Yoongi. “Honestly, Jungkook is the only thing in my life that is safe and brings me joy. I love him, Yoongichi. When Kangdae was threatening to slit my throat, the primary thought in my brain was that I didn’t want to leave Jungkook. The thought of never seeing him again was worse than the fear of dying in pain. I don’t have the words to say to explain it but, damnit, being with him feels right.”

Yoongi absorbed the words for a moment before saying, “Okay. I just had to ask. I care about you both, you know?”

“I know. I love you too, Yoongi,” Seokjin said softly as he pulled his friend into a hug. “That doesn’t mean we’re going to get together to swap steaming sex stories because I might spontaneously combust if I have to hear you wax poetic about my brother’s dick game.”

Jungkook walked into the kitchen as Yoongi was making a disgruntled face and smacking lightly at Seokjin’s chest while Seokjin’s trilling laughter bounced off the kitchen cabinets. Before he could comment, a light tap on the entrance door announced Namjoon’s presence. Jungkook let him in, still mildly cringing in embarrassment over the obvious marks still glaring against Seokjin’s radiant skin. He followed behind Namjoon, trying to focus on the smell of fresh-brewed coffee to distract himself enough to stop blushing. Namjoon placed the bags containing their breakfast on the counter before turning to greet Seokjin, stopping in his tracks when his eyes found the marks Jungkook had left.

“What the fuck, Seokjin! Did you get mauled by a bear after you left my apartment?” Namjoon screeched.

Seokjin grabbed Jungkook’s hand and pulled him closer to press a kiss on his still flaming cheek, before saying, “Nope, not a bear. Just the cutest little bunny. He was so good to me too.”

Namjoon’s mouth dropped open for a moment, eyes darting back and forth between the two. Before he could say anything else, Seokjin handed him a steaming mug of coffee.

“I think I need something stronger than coffee. Do you have…oh, I don’t know…bleach? Then I can forget seeing any of this,” Namjoon groaned, gesturing wildly at Seokjin’s mostly bare chest.

Part1 Part2 Part3 Part4

#BTS jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts fic #bts #BTS jin #bts jin imagine #bts jin angst #bts jin fanfic #bts jin smut #jinkook #jinkook smut #they are in love #please practice safe sex #my first smut scene #side namgi #side jihope

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genderfluidnae · 2 years

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Turnabout Storyteller (My Thoughts on it)

So, I’ve heard a lot of people saying that “Turnabout Storyteller” from AA6 is the worst case in the entire AA franchise. Which I agree and disagree, and is why I will write my thoughts about it (and also to pass the time because rn im having a school test lol)

1. Why I agree that Turnabout Storyteller is bad as hell.

I partially agree with people saying that SOJ 4th case is bad, because the whole case is a filler and also so Athena got more content (Why can’t she just got her own game, Capcom?). The whole thing felt like the first case on every AA game where there’s the tutorial and stuff and the whole build up of the case is ridiculous. And! There’s no investigation it! That case should’ve existed in her own game rather than on AA6 because she already got her character development in AA5! Throwing it all away just for a filler case just sucks, dude. Moving on to Athena’s actions in the trial. She gives up too quickly and she loses faith in her client way too quickly that she needs Simon to remind her? He’s a prosecutor and yet he knows more that a defense attorney cannot loses their faith in their client’s innocence! Athena just acts like a literal beginner on their first trial which pisses me off (Honestly she acts like Sebastian before he got his character development in AAI2). Now about the whole case, like I said before the whole case is just ridiculous, probably more ridiculous than Turnabout Big Top. Geiru killed her master (I forgot his name) because he gave her late father’s title to Uendo?? That’s a really shaky basis to kill someone and moreover Geiru jumped into too many conclusions. She thought her master wants to humiliate/taunt her by making buckwheat noodles (which she is very allergic to) just because she didn’t get the title. And that’s her whole motive to kill. Ridiculous. Now to the defendant, Bucky Whet. You know most defendants that I met in the whole franchise I really love them all. But him? Bucky Whet? Hell no. His sprites are annoying, especially the vomitting one. His whole dialogue is hard to comprehend, way harder than Gina Lestrade’s dialogue! His character design is also such a turnoff for me, the brown hair, the orange hoodie is so.. bad. Only thing I like about him is his skateboard sprite, that’s all. Now that I get that out of the way, I would like to write about my thoughts why I disagree that Turnabout Storyteller is not the worst case.

2. Why I disagree that Turnabout Storyteller is not that bad of a case.

Next thing is that some things I like about the case and things that made my rating to that case a little bit high. First off, of course, is because of the witness. Uendo Toneido. Finding out that he has DID (Dissociative Identity Disorder) was something that I did not expect at all. And honestly? It was actually a great plot twist. And seeing Ace Attorney placing that in their game is actually a nice one, and atleast they handle it way better than Danganronpa. His cross examination is also very fun to be honest. Next thing is, Simon. Haha, I’m totally not biased just because he’s my favorite character, no I’m not /j. But Simon’s appearance is definitely fan-service, for Athena. Which I will not complain. Also, seeing Simon liking Rakugo was definitely a last minute addition. I really can’t imagine someone like him would like Rakugo, atleast in the english version. But some people say in the japanese version him liking Rakugo was expected because of him as a samurai and his japanese dialogue. But in the english version? Noo. Also seeing Simon in the witness stand, testifying was also something I like. He wasn’t forced to testify about something that made him traumatized for life (*cough cough* wright and edgeworth *cough cough*). AND also seeing him messing with Athena was also so funny, I really crave for both of their moments as siblings more, (When is her game, Capcom! When? I need to see more of these two!). The comedy relief is also one of the reasons why I kind of like this case, Nahyuta remembering all of the Rakugo stories there is and telling one of them in an ongoing trial was hilarious, even the judge was sucked into the story.

Overall rating for this case for me is a 6/10. Not that bad, not too good. That extra point was because of Uendo and that ends my thoughts on this case. Thank you for reading!

#mythoughts #long essay #turnabout storyteller #ace attorney

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truckreincarnation · 5 months

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The Waters Turn From Blue to Red | Harriet | Trial 3.5 | Re: What Happened

Avery asked it first. The question she knew was coming, the one she knew she’d have to answer. “What happened?” Manami echoed it. Harriet opened her mouth to respond, but then… everything fell apart. Bian, babbling and sobbing incoherently. Frank, begging her to take it back. Luz, glaring at her. Nao and Germain, silent and suffering in their own ways. Yuliya, telling her to expect a letter, despite everything. And Shinjuku…

She’d told him about her past. How at 12 years old she lost control of her emotions and attacked a student at school. How she was swiftly labeled a freak and a monster and lost all of her friends. How, for years afterwards, she would be struck with these impulses to hurt the people around her, physically or emotionally. How, in this world of endless cruelty and violence, those urges were stronger than ever. How fighting monsters and Bound to the death excited her– and how horrified she was of what would happen if she gave in to those urges.

He made a promise to her. That he would protect her from herself. That he’d make sure she would never have to kill again. He’d kept that promise, when they went to the mountains and confronted Tiger. And she cried and hugged him and thanked him for keeping her safe. She felt so much relief in that moment, and she truly believed that her fears would remain unfounded.

But in the end, it was just another lie she’d told herself to hide from the truth. Harriet knows what she is. Now everyone knows, too.

There’s movement in her periphery, and Harriet glances to her left. Vee. They offer their hand to her, like they’ve done many times before. Without hesitation she grabs their hand in her own and squeezes tightly. She doesn’t want to let go. She can’t let go.

But she lets go. She lifts her head to look at her friends. And, with tears streaming down her face, she begins to answer the question.

“This morning, we all saw a memory. My memory. And after it was over, I felt like my heart had been ripped out of my chest. I couldn’t stop thinking about it, about… about Joules. And I couldn’t stop thinking about how much I wanted the memories to stop. I don’t want to see anyone’s siblings die, I don’t want to live through a friend’s dying moments, I don’t want to… I don’t want to be reminded of someone I’ll never get back.”

“...When Frank’s memory hit, I couldn’t believe what I’d just seen. The way he’d acted. It- it wasn’t entirely his fault, I know that, but at the moment I was just… disgusted with him. I tried to put it out of my mind, but when I went to the third floor and heard him playing his guitar, so… I asked him what happened to his other kid. He told me he didn’t know, that he never saw them again. He yelled at me to leave him alone. So I left and went to the storage room. I was mad at him. I was mad at everything, and I was hurting so much, and I wanted the visions to stop, and I knew how to make them stop, so I…”

Her voice hitches. She doesn't want to say anymore. Just thinking about it makes her want to scream. [Self Harm CW] It makes her want to bang her head against the desk. It makes her want to bite her tongue until it bleeds. It makes her want to tug on her ears hard enough to rip them off. She deserves all of that and worse, for what she did. [CW End] But she owes everyone the truth. She has to keep going. Taking several shaky breaths, she continues.

“...I grabbed a lance. It was broken but I didn’t notice, or… maybe I didn’t care. Then I went back to where Frank was sitting, and… I took out all my anger on him. I don’t remember everything that happened. The bench… I must’ve broken it. And I don’t think he tried to hit me back… or if he did, he missed every time. But I do remember he tried to get me to stop. He told me that Joules wouldn’t want to see me like this. And I remember being so, so mad at him for saying that, for bringing them up. And I remember thinking that… if I threw him down the stairs into the secret room, nobody would find his body. So when I had the chance, I opened the staircase.”

Harriet squeezes her upper arms tight, her fingers pressing hard into the fabric of her sleeves. Briefly she glances at Frank, but she can barely make him out through the tears. “I’m sorry,” she whispers. Not that it would do any good. There wasn’t anything she could say or do that could make up for what she’d done to him. And there wasn’t anything she could say or do that could make up for what she did next.

“But… I didn’t… I didn’t know Meili was going to be there. I didn’t see him come in, I don’t remember if he said anything… he must have, right? He had to have tried to make me stop. But I couldn’t hear him, I was too angry, and I’m strong, too strong, so when I grabbed Frank to throw him down the stairs… I struck Meili with him, in the chest. And they both fell.”

“…That’s when I realized what I had been doing. What I had done. It was like I’d woken up from a nightmare, only to find out that everything that happened in the nightmare was real. I went down the stairs to see if they’d survived the fall, somehow, but… when I saw them lying there, I thought they were both dead. Then I heard footsteps coming. I hid. And then I saw Shin. I remembered the bond with Frank he’d told me about. And I knew, if he found out that I had done this, then…”

She had lied to protect herself, there was no denying that, but she had also lied to protect others from the truth. She'd lied to protect Shinjuku from seeing how badly she'd failed him. But in the end, she couldn't keep lying. Not when it meant that she'd have to watch another friend die because of her. Whimpering, she slowly lifts her head and looks towards Shin, her tearful eyes filled with regret and pain.

“I’m- I’m sorry I couldn’t keep our promise. I’m sorry that I couldn’t stop myself. I don’t want you to think you did anything wrong, you tried really hard for me, but I just… I’m not… I’m not a good person…”

Gasping for breath, Harriet’s gaze shifts to the right. Past Frank, Avery, and Theophania, to the empty seat where Meili once sat. Where he’d never sit again, because of her. She bites her lip, wishing that she could take it back, like Frank had begged her. She wants to see them smile again, wants to hear them sing and feel the gentle warmth of the sun radiating off of them. She wants more than anything for him to come back and still mostly be himself, the way Perry had.

But what are the chances she would want anything to do with her murderer?

“Meili— Meili’s my friend. When we all got here he was the first person to call me “friend.” I never forgot that. They always had such nice things to say about my art, always supported me, and I tried my best to be a good friend to them too. We got along so well, and she trusted me, a-and… I betrayed her, I k-killed her, I…”

Harriet knows what she is. Now everyone knows, too.

“I’m a monster…!”

#Harriet #ch3 #trial3 #submission

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young-dumb-and-vaccinated · 3 years

Note

Hey 👋

I swear I'm addicted to your writing😁 Thank you for the amazing post❤

Can I request a usually calm reader coming home to Hanni and Wil with n bruise on their cheek and/or blue knuckles from n fight. And when they question reader they find out reader defended their relationship.

Them reacting to reader with cigarette burn scars from childhood or self harm scars.

Sorry if it's specific I had a dream about the first one and I'm insecure about my scars😅 Also if it makes you uncomfy ignore me🤣

Have a wonderful day/night/afternoon💕

Hey anon, sorry it took me a hot minute to get to this. Hope you enjoy!

Gender neutral y/n comes home covered in bruises. Their lovers Hannibal and Will need to know why.

trigger warnings: blood, threats of violence, mention of firearms, stalking

You spit a mouthful of blood into the snow before you even thought about turning the doorknob. Any random passerby would look at you and think you were attempting to rob the place. You couldn't say you disagreed, though: your hood was pulled over your head and you held a tire iron in your singular non-bleeding hand.

You knew it wasn't wise to let the old-money Baltimore socialites catch you in such a compromising position, but you had to double-check your mental map of the house one more time. Hannibal would undoubtedly be cooking; hopefully so in his element that he wouldn't notice you slipping by. Will was the one you had to worry about. When it came to you, he'd become as alert as a German shepherd with protective instincts to match. Where he was in the house was anyone's guess, so you needed to be on guard.

You removed your heavy boots and opted to leave them outside. You then tossed the tire iron behind a nearby planter and slowly, quietly turned the knob. The door creaked as it opened, making you cringe. The sight of neither of your partners immediately running up on you was a bit of a relief; you hadn't been discovered quite yet.

You just needed to make it upstairs so you could barricade yourself in the master bathroom and use that oh-so-rare sliver of privacy to cover up your bruises. Then you could climb down the trellis, grab your shoes and make a proper entrance with hello kisses and whatnot.

"[F/N]?" Hannibal called out before you could even breach the threshold.

With no thought on your mind other than "fuck", you turned your head away from the direction you heard him. "Yeah, I'm home."

"I'd rush to give you a kiss, but I'm a little tied up at the moment." He said, undoubtedly grinning to himself as he trussed a chicken with sturdy cooking wire. "So you'll have to come to me."

"Oh, yeah." You called back. "Let me just get cleaned up first."

"If you insist." He said with a dramatic dip in his voice. "But hurry right back. Dinner is almost ready."

Hurdle one was cleared. Now all you had to do was clear the second, much higher hurdle.

You ascended the stairs, but forgot to skip that one consistently creaky step that always alerted the dogs. A small army of dogs came pouring into the upstairs hallway, blocked only by the baby gate Hannibal had installed as a compromise. Enthusiastic barks filled the foyer as you desperately tried to calm them down from the top step.

"Winston! Max! Harley!" You rattled off as many names as you could remember. "Hush, please!"

"[F/N]?" Will said, turning the corner.

You momentarily considered throwing yourself down the stairs. It would be easier to explain the bruises and you could still soak up that sweet, sweet throuple affection without having to tell a story that even you didn't entirely believe. Common sense, however, kept your feet firmly on the ground.

Will appeared in your line of sight. You pulled the brim of your hat down and stuffed your hands into your pockets. "I, uh- forgot how to open the gate again."

The dogs parted in Will's path and he looked at you with suspicion as he effortlessly opened the gate. "Is everything okay?"

You turned your head to the side. "I'm fine. It's just really cold outside."

"I'm sure those wet clothes aren't helping." Will cocked his head. "We can start by throwing that hoodie in the dryer-"

Before you could pull away, he pushed your hood and your hat off in one fluid motion. He knew what was going on.

"I'm no doctor, but I don’t think busted noses and black eyes are side effects of low body temperature." He said, folding his arms.

You put your hand up, unintentionally revealing the bruises on your knuckles. "You learn something new every day."

You tried to scoot past him, but he grabbed your hand and pulled you back.

"[F/N]--" Will said, a blistering fury beginning to percolate in his chest. "Who did this to you?"

"I ran into a bus stop." You lied, not even trying to make it sound believable.

"That bus wouldn't have happened to be headed to Dacula, would it?"

Your silence spoke louder than any excuse you could think of.

Will sighed. "Right. I think I know what happened."

"Will, I-" you protested.

"Save it for dinner." He scolded. "I'm sure Hannibal would love to hear this."

You'd been found out it was much worse than anticipated. You felt like you were on trial, which, given the circumstances, you could have actually been on trial in a real court of law on the charge of aggravated assault. However, that didn’t make you feel any better.

Hannibal demanded an explanation and couldn't wait until dinner. He was willing to let one of his culinary masterpieces burn in the oven, knowing of course that a much rarer delicacy was in the cards once you gave him a name.

He brushed his finger over an open cut under your eye. A light click of his tongue reached your ears as he examined your face.

"Give us a name, love." Hannibal probed, holding your jaw between his fingers and following the trail of bruises down your neck. "Who did this to you?"

"It's not a big deal, really." You assured him, squirming against his grip. "I started it."

"Now that, I find hard to believe." Hannibal contested. "You're not a preemptive strikes kind of person."

"Nor would you go all the way to Dacula to throw a few punches." Will added, approaching you with an ice pack.

"Okay, so maybe I finished it." You corrected.

Hannibal smiled proudly to himself. "That's more like it."

"What exactly did you finish?" Will asked, gently placing the ice against your bruised knuckles.

You sighed. You mentioned Dacula once and they already knew the answer. They were just waiting to hear you say it.

"My ex-boyfriend, Sidney." You leaned back on your one good wrist. "He was a being a completely irredeemable shit, as usual-"

"Details, darling." Hannibal said in too singsongy of a voice than was really appropriate while wrapping your hand in gauze.

"Acting entitled, talking like I belonged to him-"

"You have no idea how little that narrows it down." Will shook his head.

You were compelled to agree, but couldn't bring yourself to admit that and the fact that you ever dated Sidney in the first place. "Right."

"That isn't out of character for him." Hannibal said.

"And certainly not enough to make you willingly drive back out to cousinfuck nowhere to beat him up." Will finished.

"I didn't go out there with the intent to beat him up!" You contested. "He said that if I could meet him for coffee he'd never speak to me again. I know it's a lot of gas money, but I really was gonna hold him to the whole 'never speaking to me again' bit."

"So what happened?" Will asked, growing impatient.

You looked at the ground, embarrassment stopping the words at the tip of your tongue.

"Somehow, he caught a whiff of our... arrangement." You tightened your hands into frustrated fists. "And he made some really shitty comments about... you."

Hannibal and Will exchanged looks. They let the silence linger, urging you to fill it.

"He went into obscene detail about how mmf threesomes are his favorite category of porn," you tried not to gag as you recalled the disgusting details. "And then said if I 'let him watch', he wouldn't tell the local baptist church that I was a whore-"

"The man is a pig." Hannibal said, matter-of-factually.

"I got up to leave." You continued. "Obviously. Then he said he knew where you lived. Announced it to the whole diner. Started to go through his list of semiautomatic weapons. So to make sure he knew I meant business-"

"You threw the first punch." Hannibal finished the thought for you.

You nodded. "Naturally."

Will smiled to the floor and pushed his glasses up his nose. "I would have loved to see that."

"As much as it pains me to say," Hannibal began, resignedly agreeing. "It's only fair that you stand up for us the way we stand up for you. From time to time."

Will brought your bruised knuckles to his lips. "Though we desperately need to teach you how to dodge. Because the next time you come home covered in scratches, someone will pay."

You took both of their hands. "I should get beat up more often."

#hannibal lecter #hannibal x reader #hannibal x you #hannibal nbc #will graham x reader #will graham #will graham x you #hannibal x you x will #hannigram x you #poly hannigram #hannigram #hannigram x reader #anon request #anon ask

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meetmyothersouls · 2 years

Text

The Witch

Warnings: mentions of witchcraft

You weren’t sure what time it was or whose hand covered your mouth as you were yanked from your bed early that morning. You fought and struggled against the men who bound your wrists and threw you into the back of a carriage. They shoved strips of burlap into your mouth so you couldn’t speak. The coarse, itchy fibers dried your mouth out and made you gag. You pushed your tongue against them inching them out of your mouth until finally you were able to speak. “Where are you taking me?! What is the meaning of this!?” You were truly at a loss and the men leading the carriage offered no answers. It wasn’t until the carriage abruptly halted in front the castle that you realized where you were. Still the lingering question was why?

They grabbed you by the arms and carried you inside. You kicked and screamed and even went as far as trying to bite them to be free of their grasp. You were thrown to your knees on the floor. You knew who sat in the throne above you, you didn’t dare look at him. The King of England.

Your eyes on the floor you heard the men behind you speak, “we bring before you, Y/N. Villager, herbist and self proclaimed healer.”

“And what are the charges?” The kings voice was different. It wasn’t old and frail like it once was. It was young. You looked up at him. A new king. You hadn’t realized a new king had taken over the throne. His eyes met yours and he held your stare for a moment, like he recognized you. The hard kick of a boot to your back broke your stare forcing your head back down, “Eyes on the ground, witch.”

Witch? Witch??

“The charges, Sire, are witchcraft.”

You felt the blood drain from your face. You swayed slightly but fought against the feeling of passing out.

“Hmm? Witchcraft,” His voice was contemplative, as if he was trying to decide how to dispose of you. “Well, we know well enough that the penalty for witch craft, is a trial by fire, but I’m feeling rather generous today. Throw her in the cell. I’ll decide what to do with her later.”

You breathed an audible sigh of relief while the men behind you grunted, likely angered that they wouldn’t get to see another woman burned at the stake today. They pulled you up by your arms again and led you into a cold, damn cell. It reeked of mildew and you swore you heard a rat squeak and scurry as your knees skidded across the stone floor. It was so dark you couldn’t see, you scooted until your back hit a wall. Your wrists still bound together you weren’t able to pinch yourself to see if you were dreaming. You started to doze off, or maybe you didn’t the darkness acts quickly and enjoys playing with minds. Either way, you jumped at the sound of the cell creaking opening.

“You don’t remember me, do you?” You couldn’t see his face, but it was the voice of the young king.

“No, I’m afraid I don’t,” you admitted. Your voice cracked. How long had you been down here already? Hours? Days?

He chuckled, “yes, I suppose I do look...rather different from the last time you saw me.”

“Forgive me, your highness, but I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“Oh but we have, y/n, we’ve met many times.”

What? His face wasn’t one that you recognized, at least, not in throne room. He picked up a lantern from the cell floor and lit it. the light flickered against a face that you could not place. He didn’t look like anyone you had ever met before and the likes of a king would never had ventured out to your village or the shop you tended to.

You shook your head. “What are you going to do with me? I am a lot of things but I can assure you I am no witch. Please spare me and I’ll go back to my village and return to my duties. You won’t hear from me again.”

He let out another soft chuckle and reached for the tie that bound your wrists. He pulled at the string and your hands fell to the ground. You grunted as you stretched your wrists out.

“Well, not hearing from you again just won’t do and I do have to offer some form of consequence while you’re here. Please keep in mind, that the punishment for witch craft usually comes in the form of fire and death, and I’d rather not watch your body burn at the stake, witch or no.” He smiled at you again as he stood, “for now, I’ll keep you in this cell, and your task is the try and place me in your memory. You’ll have a hot meal and some water delivered to your cell.” He stood up and walked back to the iron door. “It was truly nice seeing you again, y/n.” He said as he slammed the cell shut.

@imnotoverlyobsessive @dayafied @soulofendlessbook @fashphotolife @chicchanelcigs @timotheeisthelomll @weasleytwinscumslut @scentedkittenperfection @lovelyrocker @marvelmaniac2000 @mxciscastleintheair @divine-1

#timothee chalamet #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet x you #writing #timothee blurb #timothee chalamet imagine #timothée chalamet #timmy chalamet #the king 2019 #the king fic #Hal #king Henry v

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winter-soldier-vibes · 3 years

Note

I have a request for your future work. If you are comfortable writing this topic, I'd love to read it.

I have always had very bad cramps when I'm on my period. I also have PMS so I struggle with pain a week before my period starts. And It makes me think, if I could not let go of this cruel pain until menopause, I'd rather stop living. (Sorry it sounds heavy)

I want Bucky to comfort women who are struggling with serious period cramps ( Dysmenorrhea ) and PMS.

Thank you for reading my request! You can ignore this if you are not feeling right!

I love you so much❤️

Of course!!!

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

PMS for Please Make it Stop

Bucky x reader

Summary: Reader suffers from severe cramps and PMS symptoms on and in between her periods. Bucky, her boyfriend, comforts her as much as he can.

Word count: 1666

Warnings: talk of everything that comes with periods, pain and cramps, PMS, fluff

A/N: Thank you for the request, and I am so sorry that it’s so painful for you! I’ve had a lot of experience with “that time of the month” feeling completely unbearable, and I hope that this fic is helpful! I don’t know exactly what you’re going through because each person has different symptoms with different severities and time spans. I truly hope that this helps you! I’m always here to talk as a fellow person with periods and the emotions that come with them!

Tags: @mardema @buckfics @stucky-on-spiderman @buckys2thicc @abitgryffindorky @barnesplums @thatfangirl42 @freigeistundanderes @babyboibucky

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

You rolled over in bed, curling in on yourself and using your pillow to suppress a groan. It was early morning, you could tell because the sun was up but Bucky hadn’t left for his run with Steve yet. It was that time of the month again, the one you hated so goddamn much. The one every woman hated so much. But it was never just the few days of blood they had taught you about in sex ed.

You hadn’t been prepared for the cramps, bloating, mood swings, headaches, cravings, and pain…

So. Much. Pain.

You could handle blood, that wasn’t an issue for you. You had seen your share of bloodshed on the battlefield. It was the horrible cramps that felt like something was stabbing you from the inside out constantly for a week preceding the bloodshed that was too much for you. It paralyzed you in a way. It hurt to do anything at all. As much as you hated to admit it, you could deal with any cut, burn, or broken bone. But these cramps had you curled in a ball with tears in your eyes.

You let out another groan and felt Bucky stir next to you. He turned over and rubbed one of his hands up and down your arm and pressed a kiss to your shoulder.

“Sweetheart, why are you awake?” he asked softly, sleep still lacing his voice. There were only 2 reasons that you would be awake. Either you had a nightmare, or...

You let out a small whimper as another wave of pain came over you.

...cramps.

“Hey, it’s okay, come here,” he said before carefully wrapping his arm around your stomach, rubbing small circles over your stomach. He brought his body flush against you so his chest to your back, without squeezing you too tightly. You sighed in relief, his warm body easing your pain slightly. He pressed soft kisses to your temple, whispering reassuring words in your ear.

He had learned a lot rather quickly when it came to helping you with your pain. He hadn’t known much at all at first, growing up in the 40’s where people never talked about it. When he had first walked in on you curled in the fetal position, crying and whimpering, he had been so worried. So when you referred to it as ‘just a period’ and that ‘it’s happened before', he was very confused.

He thought a period was something you ended a sentence with.

You had sent him to Nat and Wanda to explain what was happening. You had synced up with them naturally, but their cramps weren’t as severe as you. Everyone's experiences of periods, their symptoms, and PMS differently, but they felt bad for the severity of yours.

He was very confused as to why he had to ask other people about your pain. When he approached the two wide-eyed and confused, asking why you were in severe pain with no injuries, they had to try not to laugh.

They explained the basics to him, and what was off-limits. No assuming it was happening because of mood swings, no expecting you to keep functioning at peak condition, no mentioning how the emotional mood swings were happening

He was just in awe of it - how women were expected to just act naturally as if they weren’t bleeding at a constant rate while dealing with horrible pain and emotional mood swings. He thought that it was amazing that it was expected that they act naturally.

It took a little bit of trial and error and a lot of patience on both your parts, but he knew how he could help make these days as bearable as he could.

He would spend these days close to you, showing you a lot of affection. He would be gentle and patient with you, reminding you how much he loved you. He would get you anything you needed, be it food or pads or tampons. Once you had sent him to get pads and tampons and he had come back with one of every box with a sheepish look on his face.

“I didn’t know which ones you wanted so I got...all of them.”

You had laughed so hard that it hurt, but it was worth it. He made you promise not to tell Sam.

But eventually, he had learned what you needed. How he could help. The heat helped ease your cramps, so he’d hold you close, but not tightly. Rubbing your stomach helped too, in slow, lazy circles.

While he hated seeing you in pain, he loved taking care of you. Anything he could do to help you he would do.

Another cramp made you shift slightly, trying to find the impossible position that would help relieve the constant pain. You let out a small groan, trying to curl in tighter on yourself. Bucky pressed a small kiss to your temple.

“It’s okay angel, it’s alright.”

“It hurts,” you said, voice cracking.

“I know it does, I know,” he said, using his left hand to brush some hair out of your face.

“I just want it to stop hurting so much,” you said, letting out another pained whimper.

“I can’t imagine,” he said, sincerely. He couldn’t imagine the same pain every month with no relief or solution. He knew just how strong you were, strong as anyone on the team if not stronger. Seeing you in this much pain must have meant it was unbearable.

“I can’t make it go away but I’m here to do whatever I can to help, okay?” he whispered against your skin.

“I’m sorry about this,” you said.

Bucky took a deep breath. “Did you choose to go through this?” he asked softly.

“N-no.”

“Then you have nothing to apologize for.”

You nodded slightly, your heart melting. You tried to take slow and even breaths. After a few moments passed, he asked “Can I help you to the shower? You always say how much the hot water helps.”

You paused for a moment before you nodded, and he pressed another kiss to your temple before standing up and moving to the other side of the bed to help you stand. Moving from your position sounded like the worst idea right now, but you took a deep breath before taking his hands. You sat up slowly, groaning as your hand wrapped around your stomach. You stood up shortly after, bending forward slightly as you made your way to the bathroom with Bucky. He had noticed a bloodstain on the bed, but he didn’t say anything. You didn’t need to know that.

He turned on the water for you, checking the temperature every few moments. Once he deemed that it was hot enough but wasn’t going to burn your skin, he told you and gave you a quick hug before giving you some privacy. You had always enjoyed intimate showers together just...not when you had your period to worry about. When he closed the door, you started to slowly undress to get into the shower. You got into the shower, sighing in relief as it helped soothe your cramps.

Bucky, meanwhile, was working fast. First he texted Steve that he wouldn’t be able to make it to training today, knowing he would understand. He then moved to make the bed with clean sheets, so you wouldn't see the small bloodstain on the current ones. He didn’t want you to worry or feel bad about it. He grabbed a pair of sweatpants and one of his t-shirts that you had always loved. He cracked the bathroom door open and placed them on the counter, careful not to disturb you. He then quickly ran down to the kitchen, still empty for the moment, and grabbed a few of your favorite snacks along with a few water bottles to bring back upstairs.

When he came back to the room, he noticed the water had been turned off. He set the water and snacks on the bedside table as you opened the bathroom door, hair in a messy bun and looking much more refreshed. “Feeling better?”

“A little,” you said quietly before wincing slightly. Bucky gave you a small smile before taking your hand and bringing you over to the bed, him sitting down and leaning against the headboard. He helped you sit down between his legs so you were able to lean your back against his chest. You laid your head back against him and he wrapped his arms around you so his human arm was on your lower stomach, his metal arm resting over it. You let out a small sigh, relaxing back against him. He pressed a small kiss to your temple, rubbing smooth lazy circles on your stomach.

“Try to get some rest, doll.” he whispered. “We can watch your favorite movie when you wake up.”

You turned slightly to look up at him. “But you hate that movie.”

“But you don’t,” he said simply.

You felt tears brim your eyes even though it felt so stupid. “I love you, Bucky.’

“I love you too angel,” he whispered, pressing a last kiss to the side of your head. “Try to get some rest.”

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shslrose · 3 years

Text

SDR2 Boys React to You Flinching

Nagito, Gundham, and Fuyuhiko react to you thinking that they were going to hit you.

Nagito Komaeda

Arguments with Nagito are few and far between, something which you are incredibly grateful for. You cared for him deeply, and he felt the same way about you. After arriving on Jabberwock Island, the two of you spent almost all of your time together. Even after his outburst at the first trial, you stayed by his side.

But, ever since the Funhouse, Nagito had been acting strange. You noticed it immediately, but every time you tried to bring it up, he just brushed you off. You decided you would bring it up again today, so you walked up to his cottage and knocked on the door. Wordlessly, he let you in and closed the door behind you. As you entered, you couldn’t help but notice how tense he seemed; he moved around stiffly, as though something were troubling him.

“Nagito, I’m worried about you,” you said, standing behind him, with no way of reading his expression. “Did something happen in the Octagon-”

“I never asked you to worry about me.” His voice was cold.

“...Nagito?” You asked, placing a hand on his shoulder and gently turning him towards you. He relaxed into your touch and turned to face you.

You looked into his eyes, and you found nothing but his pained stare aimed back at you. There was a sort of distance in his gaze, as though his mind was somewhere else entirely. Your hand slipped down to his arm as you tried to pull him closer and bring his attention back to the present. You had no way of knowing that right now, he was recalling the events of the Octagon.

Nagito held the Hope’s Peak Academy files in his hands. He turned the pages eagerly, but stopped dead in his tracks when he reached the end of the file and realised he never saw your profile.

Yours were the only one missing...

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He questioned you, his voice calm and unwavering. He closed his eyes as he awaited your response, noting that your hand still rested on his arm. “T-tell you?” You asked. “Tell you what..?”

“That you’re the traitor, obviously.” He opened his eyes then, and you could see a crazed look in his stare. It was almost as if hope and despair swirled within his light eyes.

“What?” You exclaimed, taken aback by the accusation. “I’m not the traitor!”

A sigh of what seemed like annoyance left his pale lips. In one swift movement, he raised his right hand, intending to swat you away from his left arm.

He watched as your body tensed up and you closed your eyes as though you were bracing yourself.

“Y/N… did you… did you think that I…?” His voice was hardly stronger than a whisper, and he couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence.

A soft gasp left your lips. He sounded so hurt and a wave of guilt ran through you. You hadn’t meant to flinch, but when you saw him raise his hand, you just couldn’t help it. Overwhelmed by emotion, you felt tears well up in your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” you cried softly, squeezing your eyes shut in an attempt to stop your tears. You felt Nagito wrap his arms around you, enveloping you into a warm hug.

“No, I’m sorry,” he countered, pulling you close. “I was tricked by Monokuma, he removed your profile from the file to make me suspect you. I was trying to test you to see if you were the traitor, but I took it too far and accidentally scared you. I really am the worst…”

You understood now: Monokuma had made him think you were the traitor, causing him to act cold and distant. When he accused you of being the traitor, it was because he wanted to see your reaction so he could confirm or deny it, but then he had accidentally scared you.

“It’s alright,” you reassured him, leaning further into his embrace.

“Y/N, I swear, I’ll never hurt you.”

In that moment, you felt safe in his arms.

Gundham Tanaka

“Abandon your overdependence and complaints this instant,” Gundham muttered, rolling his eyes. “Those have no place in this world.”

You took a second to think back to how you had gotten to this point. You had come to Gundham’s dorm to spend some time with him, when you found one of Sonia’s fancy pens on his desk. After you brought it up to him, he admitted that he had been studying with her the night before, at which point the two of you had quickly fallen into an intense argument.

“Overdependence?!” You laughed bitterly. “You’re the one who can’t seem to do anything without that stupid princess by your side!”

“Y/N, I’ve already told you, she is but a mere friend!”

“Don’t lie to me!” you shout. “She’s in love with you, it’s obvious! She’s always flirting with you and you never tell her to stop!”

He sighed as he tried to find the right words, but none would come out. You scoffed and turned away from him. He watched as your hips sway as you began to storm out of the room.

“Y/N, you understand nothing at all!” he called out to you, growing less calm with each word. He took a few steps towards you, intending to prevent you from leaving.

“Just stop!” You shouted, as you turned to face him. “I’m done with this, so don’t bother chasing me!”

He threw his hand up in an act of frustration, and you felt a sudden fear that he would strike you. Without thinking, you closed your eyes, letting a quiet gasp leave your lips as you braced yourself. Confusion spread throughout Gundham’s mind as he watched you flinch away from him. His expression quickly softened as he realised he had scared you.

You opened your eyes, and he could see tears welling up in them.

“Y/N...” he said your name softly. There was a gentle kindness in his voice as he spoke to you. “Know this: I shall never harm you. Even if it is our destiny to clash, even if my devilish temper flares…”

You threw yourself into his arms then, allowing him to envelop you in a warm embrace. “I know,” you cried quietly against his chest.

“I...I love you, Y/N.” He declared boldly, his face reddening as he did so.

“..?!” You couldn’t help but gasp at his words.

“I love you, and only you,” Gundham affirmed as he held you in his arms.

“I love you too, Gundham.”

Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu

It was nearly two in the morning, and your boyfriend, Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu, was still not home. He had left earlier that evening on some Yakuza business, saying he would be back before midnight, and so you grew more worried with each minute that passed. It was a dangerous, not to mention illegal, line of work, but he was dedicated to his family business. You couldn’t help but worry for his safety every time he left the house.

You paced around your shared bedroom anxiously, a million thoughts racing through your mind. You were just beginning to consider calling his phone when you heard the doorknob turn.

Fuyuhiko walked in, and you let out a sigh of relief. You ran over to him, pulling into a hug.

“Fuyu~!” You exclaimed, making him blush at the use of the nickname.

“I-I told you to stop calling me that..!” He scolded you, but you had a sneaking suspicion that he liked it.

“I’m so glad you’re ok!” You admitted as you let go, releasing him from the embrace. You noticed that he smelled lightly of cherry blossoms.

“Tch, of course I’m okay,” he scoffed. “You didn’t need to wait up for me.”

“‘Of course I’m okay’?” You repeated back to him, narrowing your gaze as you did so. “What’s that supposed to mean? You said you’d be back by midnight and it’s nearly two in the-”

“Would you stop treating me like a damn kid!?” He spat angrily. “I said I’m fine, so just leave it alone.”

Even with you, he still had his outbursts sometimes. It’s late, you reasoned, he’s just tired or something.

“I’m not trying to treat you like a kid,” you tried to explain. “I was just worried about you, alright? You could have sent a text or something, I didn’t know if you were okay and I was starting to think something bad happened.”

“I never asked you to worry about me!” He snapped. “I’m not just some Yakuza, I’m the heir to my clan… I can take care of myself, so would you quit fucking worrying!”

“You’re not invincible, Fuyu!” You shouted, growing angrier. “I know that you’re strong, but that doesn’t mean everything is in your control!”

“So what, it’s in yours?!” He scoffed. “You obviously don’t think I can handle shit out there...You’re just like Peko, always treating me like a damn kid…!”

“Huh..?” You asked, confused. “Peko..what does she have to do with this?”

His eyes widened slightly at your question, and he quickly avoided it. “N-nothing! I was just.. Ugh, just forget it!”

“Okay.. look, I don’t want to argue with you,” you said softly, trying to diffuse the situation. “I’m just saying it’s hard for me when you just disappear without a text-”

“And what would a fucking text do?” He spat, ridiculing your suggestion without mercy. “What, tell you where to find my damn corpse? How fucking useless…Stop worrying all the damn time and just get over it!”

His words cut you deep, causing tears to well up in your eyes. You heard him let out a strained sigh. He raised his hand up to his head in an act of frustration. Your tears clouded your vision, and for a moment you thought he was going to strike you. Fear ran through your heart as you flinched and stumbled back a few steps, falling onto the bed behind you.

“Y/N…? What the hell are you…?” His eyes widened with realization. “...! D-don’t tell me you… you thought I was going to…!”

You couldn’t even reply, the words choked up in your throat as tears rolled down your face. In an instant, he was kneeling in front of you.

“Y/N, I’m so fucking sorry,” he apologized profusely. “I...I..How could I have..fuck, I’m sorry.”

He sighed again before continuing, “It’s no excuse but… Peko got hurt tonight. She jumped in front of me, like I needed protecting or some shit… always treating me like a damn kid…”

“Is she alright?” You asked, immediately feeling concerned for his close friend.

“Yeah, she’s gonna be okay. The whole thing just had me on edge tonight, and I took it out on you.. That’s not okay, and I shouldn’t have yelled at you. And..I’m sorry for scaring you, I...I never want to make you worry like that again. I’ll work hard to earn your forgiveness, and your trust.”

“It’s alright, I forgive you,” You assured him that you forgave him, in order to repeat the events of the last time he kneeled during an apology (in which he ended up slitting his stomach). “I’m not scared of you.. It was just an instinct, I guess…”

“Still, I was wrong to yell at you like that,” he admitted, avoiding your gaze.

“I told you, it's alright.” You assured him again, before giving him a teasing smile. “Now, will you finally come to bed with me, Fuyu~”

“I-I told you not to call me that, damnit!” His voice cracked slightly as he spoke, and his face was dusted pink. Still, he joined you, wrapping his arms around you as the two of you cuddled in bed.

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Read Part Two (Hajime, Kazuichi, and Izuru react to you flinching) here!

----------

a/n - thank you for reading this, oh and requests are open, so send some in!

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ramzawrites · 3 years

Note

OMG might I say I have cried many tears already.

Also can I request a part 2 to your hybrid iron golem story? Maybe one where he has to deal with torture from the butcher gang, and even has to help exile techno. But eventually he ends up teaming with techno blade and dream after they save him. And he starts training with them and gets better at pvp and eventually kills/greatly injures one of the butcher gang as revenge, before returning to his village? LOVE YOU AND YOUR FICS❤️ your also like the only writer I know who writes he/him or gn fics so thank you❤️

IronGolem!Hybrid!Reader - Protector - Part 2

Part 1

Male

Pairings: none

Characters included: Quackity, Tubbo, Fundy, Ranboo, Technoblade, Ghostbur, (mentioned) Philza

Warnings: mention of burn wounds,captivity,fighting

Series: a part 2 of my previous fic per request <3

Summary: After weeks of working Y/N to the bones the Butcher Army has a different need of him. After managing to get the best gear possible from Y/N and having trained enough, it was finally time to get revenge! It was time to “peacefully” get Technoblade so he can stand trial, of course taking Y/N with them, after all he worked so hard on their gear and was now a part of their little army.

Words count: 3893

Authors Note: Thank you for the nice words! 💙 :D I’m sorry I broke this request up in two parts! I will concentrate on finishing up another or two requests and while I do that, I will also try finishing up part 3 since I am already in the middle of writing it! So don’t worry it is coming!

Y/N pressed his back against the cold stone wall. Enjoying the coolness on his body. Pressing his burned palms against the cold floor beneath him. The coldness was like a soothing balm that engulfed him after working for hours at the forge.

It was probably a bad idea pushing the wounds down onto the dirty floor, but he didn’t care. The temporary relief of pain just felt too good that he couldn’t stop himself.

A small break from the constant stress on his body.

Basking in the break from the constant supervision of the Butcher Army, even if that break came at the cost of him being locked inside a cell.

He had no idea how long he has been here in L’Manberg. An interesting city built inside a crater. They led him to this place, riding on their horses while pulling him along with a rope. It was a grueling two-day trip and as soon as the group arrived, they almost immediately put him to work.

First it just started out with him looking over their current armor and repairing what he could, then they began forcing him to create multiple sets of iron armor, claiming they would give him the resources and he should just work.

So, he did. He created armor sets, weapons and tools. Making new ones when they lost the gear, or it got destroyed. They put his work to the test. Fighting against each other to train. Using it against a horde of mobs, so there was never really a shortage of work.

The real trouble came when they suddenly presented him with diamonds. Ordering him to make them diamond armor but he didn’t know how. His expertise laid with iron work nothing else, but the group wouldn’t hear a no from him. Forcing him to figure out how to best create this diamond armor by showing him their old ones.

Luckily his knowledge seemed to somewhat extend to the new material as well. It took a while, but he soon found out different ways to create a similar product to that of his iron gear.

Diamond armor light but strong, the tools incredibly sturdy and in some cases sharp.

This seemed to be what the group was looking for. Yelling things like “This could rival netherite!” as they tried it out for the first time.

One day they brought him a new material. It was netherite. It was good thing that netherite behaved more like iron and was used as a coating for diamond gear, so Y/N could make this upgraded gear for them fast and easily.

The netherite complimented his work quite well. It received greater durability but also made it possible to sharpen the weapons even more so. Something about this material seemed to behave otherworldly to him which got confirmed to him once he found out that it came from the nether.

Naively Y/N had hoped that this was enough and that they would finally let him go and return to his village. His one true home. Though of course they didn’t let him go, saying that they still haven’t reached their goal and needed his help.

Still working him to the bone. His hands getting more and more hurt over time as he worked with the materials. The metal that coated them cracking more and more.

The villagers back home were left with the only few defenses he put up, which should be fine but also, he wanted to be there and make sure they were alright.

As he sat alone in the dark room, he let himself silently cry. He missed them so much. They would make sure he was alright, giving him an abundance of food and materials and whenever he refused to take more, they would look so insulted. If anything, the villagers were good-natured beings that believed in true reciprocity.

This seemed to be a foreign concept for the L’Manberg people or at least the Butcher Army. Increasing his fear and wariness for other humans even more. He never actually had any contact with other people outside of them, but he did learn a few things about the little group and what their opinion was of others.

For starters there were two people they saw as their ultimate enemies.

One called Dream and another called Technoblade.

From the things he heard and even the few question he managed to ask despite of his fear and anxiety, he gained the idea that these two must have been horrible tyrants. He almost got the idea that they were just beasts out here hunting their prey and trying to subject the other people under their own rule or ideologies.

And Y/N was scared of them. He didn’t want to meet them and make sure to stay far away but this was also how he felt towards the Butcher Army, conflicting thoughts and emotions brewing inside of him. The Butcher Army acted like they were the good guys, doing bad things for a good goal and Y/N wanted to believe in that. Wanted to believe that him suffering will bring something good as well but there were doubts.

Y/N laid his hurting hands on his biceps, squeezing them in pain as he tried to stifle his sobs. No matter what, he will make sure to not cry in front of them. It was stupid and unnecessary, but he didn’t want to give them the satisfaction. Though then again, the only person who seemed to enjoy the feeling of power was Quackity. Fundy was a close second, but he looked mostly just forward to the new goods and the power he seemed to gain through them.

Tubbo and Ranboo were more passive. Especially Ranboo.

Quackity seemed to string Tubbo along most of the time, speaking to his pride as president of the nation and basically just whispering him what he should do, and the young president listened.

Ranboo tried to sometimes help Y/N. Giving him things like bandages for his wounds or giving him extra food and water, even trying to do small talk with him to lighten the mood. If the situation were different Y/N would have laughed at his awkward attempts for conversation.

While he appreciated it, it just hammered back in the feeling of homesickness.

He bit his lower lip as his thoughts began running a mile an hour again. Ranging from despair to him cursing out his captors. He was too kind to actually think things like “I hate them. I hate them so much.” Trying to believe there was a good reason for this, but he was getting tired. His work is getting more and more sloppy, and it was only a matter of time until Quackity and the others noticed.

There was no telling with how long he could take this anymore.

Y/N got back up only to fall into bed. There was nothing better to do here than sleep through the days and wait for the others to get him out.

As it turned out the others needed him early in the morning but this time it was different.

Quackity opened up the iron door to his cell with a sterner expression than usual. It surprised Y/N when he saw that Quackity had put the white apron on top of his new netherite armor. This was not a good sign. The last time he saw that armor on him was when Quackity escorted him to L’Manberg.

“Get up. We have something to do.” His voice was cold and strained. A hint of anxiety mixed in, or maybe it was anticipation after all.

Not even daring to hesitate, Y/N jumped off his bed. Wordlessly following his captor, soon noticing that this would not be a usual day for him.

Instead of turning to the smithy they set up for him, Quackity led him to the town middle where he saw the rest of the Butcher Army waiting. Decked out in Y/N’s best armor and horses in tow. Expressions pulled down into deep frowns.

But what confused him the most was that he counted five horses when there were only four members of the army. A bad feeling begun building up at the bottom of his stomach. Like a rock sinking down into the depths of water.

“What is going on?” Y/N managed to rasp out as the two reached the others.

Quackity collected the reigns of all the horses and pushed it into Y/N’s rough hands “It is time we finally get some retribution. We are going after Technoblade and we need your help for that. Your own armor is over there. Get ready while we have a little talk with Philza.”

He didn’t wait for an answer and instead moved towards Philza’s home, only to turn around one more time before they rung the bell in front of the house “And I swear by Ender if you run away, we will find you. We know the only probable place you would seek refuge in and even if you don’t, we will wreck that place.”

Then they sounded the bell. A familiar ringing that made Y/N’s heart ache even more.

There was no real choice, he just looked around and found his old iron armor laying on the ground. The scratches and damages from back when the Butcher Army found him still there. He never got the chance to repair it.

Y/N never really talked with Philza. He only saw him here and there. Usually whenever Philza passed him he would just stare. Just stare him down. Something going through his mind, but Y/N couldn’t possibly tell what. His expression always grim only to jump back into a relaxed smile. Y/N always thought his smile felt a bit off. Wrong even. Not the truth or hiding something.

When the door swung open again it gave away to a smug looking Quackity who happily swung around a compass by its chain around his finger. A proud looking Tubbo behind him, followed by Fundy who looked almost like he was sulking and Ranboo who had a complicated expression on his face. He didn’t feel comfortable.

“We’ve got what we need. Now, to Technoblade. Everyone on their horses! This includes you, Y/N.” Quackity exclaimed.

The bad feeling increased, creating a lump in his throat. Shakily he opened up his hand and let everyone get on their horses, leaving him with a beautiful black one.

Nervous he put his foot in the pedal of the saddle and heaved himself up on it.

He wanted to scream. Run away. What would they need him for? His armor was way inferior to that of the others, ignoring the fact that he couldn’t fight at all.

No, they didn’t need him to fight but be a shield for them. A moving shield. After all he was an Iron Golem Hybrid. Big areas of his skin covered in thin metal plates, not all connected so he could still move but it gave him more protection. That plus his height was what they counted on, wasn’t it? That he would still be imposing enough to draw attention.

This was the conclusion he came to due to Quackity. He heard him talking. All Y/N was to him was a tool, a resource to be used and the worst part was that Y/N just couldn’t defend himself against this. Too scared anything might happen to his home because Quackity was right, they knew exactly where his home was and how important this place was to him.

Y/N didn’t realize how suddenly Quackity slowed down his horse as they arrived in the snow biome only pulling him out of his anxiety filled thoughts as he began speaking to him directly.

“Here is the plan. We want to get Technoblade and-” He stopped himself as he searched for the right words “And hold him accountable. Yes, we will put him on trial. If we are lucky, he will just follow us, but we doubt it. If he refuses, he will likely fight us. We just need you to draw your attention on yourself but don’t worry, we will jump right in to take care of him.”

“I- I don’t, Quackity, I don’t- I can’t fight!” Y/N croaked out. It felt like ages since he last spoke.

But Quackity just smiled “Don’t worry.”

That was all he said before hurrying along to be back at the front of the pack. Holding the glowing compass close to himself.

Y/N knew. He knew this was the case and yet it felt like someone stuffed snow down his shirt. A cold shiver running down his spine. Panic rising even more. It was a good thing he was sitting on top of a horse, otherwise he wasn’t sure if his shaking legs could carry him for the rest of the way. Each step closer to what felt like his doom.

His doom? Would Technoblade kill him? The way the small Army described him, he wouldn’t hesitate to cut him down.

Was it bad he didn’t fear dying but just the potential pain?

Realizing where his thoughts were running off to, he shook himself. No, his home, his real home, needed him. He couldn’t die yet. He needed to find a way to survive.

Suddenly Fundy stopped his horse and moved his fist up in the air, signaling for the others to stop as well. While the others wondered why he did this, Fundy pointed ahead through the trees towards a figure? A person? Out here in the snowy tundra?

Without saying anything Quackity jumped off his horse, the others following suit and begun tying the animals to the trees. Once Y/N understood what was happening he did the same. His eyes darting back towards the figure that seemed to interact and cuddle with a blue sheep while he made sure his horse was secured to one of the trees.

“What’s Ghostbur doing here?” Ranboo whispered more to himself but Y/N caught it.

He heard of Ghostbur but actually never met him. Apparently, the ghost of the man that blew the nation up but that was really all he knew.

They approached the ghost on foot, calling out to him in the process to gain his attention. The ghost immediately waved towards them with an earnest and big smile on his face. Y/N was fretting for his life at the moment but something about Ghostbur almost calmed him down.

Maybe it was just the fact of meeting a new friendly face after being surrounded by the Butcher Army for so long.

Ghostbur approached them, the sheep following him via a leash “Hello Quackity! Hello Fundy! Hello Tubbo! Hello Ranboo! Oh! I don’t know your name! I’m sorry! Hello though! I’m Ghostbur!”

Y/N was a bit taken aback. He was so friendly.

“Y/N. My name is Y/N.” he surprised himself a little bit with how he just blurted it out.

Ghostbur cocked his head to the side as he listened “Nice to meet you Y/N! You don’t look too good! Are you doing alright? Oh no, was this rude? Do you want some blue? Maybe that will help!”

Before Y/N could even properly process what he could possibly mean with blue Quackity jumped in “Hey, Ghostbur. You know if Technoblade is close? Is he somewhere around here?”

Somehow Ghostbur managed to lighten up even more, which should be impossible but Ghostbur’s eyes widened into a fond recognition and he turned around “Yes! Yes! I got lost but I found Techno! He told me to go though! He is over there! Come with me, I’ll show you!”

The Ghost then begun floating off, leading the group between trees and soon arriving on a small hill that gave them a good view of a cottage house.

Seeing the homey build, it was difficult for Y/N to imagine that a monster lived there. If anything, it reminded him of his own home. Maybe he won’t fight? Maybe this will end peacefully? But somehow Y/N doubted it by the serious but eager expressions on half of the Butcher Army’s faces as their eyes fell on Techno’s home.

“Let’s go.” Quackity trotted down the hill “We all know what to do.”

Y/N’s heartbeat took on speed again. Everyone got their weapons out and even though Y/N was technically really strong due to his constant smithing work, the iron sword in his hand felt heavy. Like it could slip out of his hand any second.

Worried his eyes darted across the few windows of the house. Trying to get a glimpse of Technoblade but all he saw was a shadow moving away from one of the windows.

Did he see them approaching?

“Techno get out!” Quackity suddenly yelled, pulling Y/N back out of his anxiety filled thoughts once again.

It took a second but suddenly the wooden door opened up slowly and Technoblade got out. He wore netherite armor, a red gown with white fluff on his shoulders on top of the armor, a crown on top of his head, his pink hair pulled back.

With his scowling expression and stature, he looked scary.

Technoblade took a step outside on his porch, Y/N suddenly became very aware of how sharp his tusks looked.

“What do you want?”

With a deep breath Quackity took a closer step towards the Pig Hybrid “We are here to get you! We, the Butcher Army, are here to put you on trial!”

“Yes! It is time you take responsibility for the destruction of L’Manberg!” Fundy added on. Tubbo just nodded to show his support to this statement.

“And why should I follow you? I’ve retired, I don’t want to be a part of any of this anymore. I’m done.” Techno spoke.

Quackity turned around to look at Y/N for a second only to continue speaking with Techno “Well, either you follow us peacefully or we will force you. You can’t run away from what you have done! Come with us and stand trial!”

But he didn’t answer immediately, Techno moved down the porch. Almost circling the group, his eyes jumping around between them.

“Listen, guys. The voices in my head. They begged me for more blood. They demanded more but I refused. I purposefully got out here to deny them, just leave me be.”

“Techno, you spawned Withers in L’Manberg! People got hurt! They destroyed a huge part of our nation! You have to stand trial!” Tubbo readjusted his grip on his axe. He looked angry and almost bewildered.

Technoblade slowly shook his head “No, you don’t understand. I’m trying to keep away from all this for a reason! You are just pulling me back to things and-“

“No! You either come with us or we will make you! Five to one Techno, you think you can do that?” Quackity interrupted him, pointing his weapon at Techno.

Y/N was overwhelmed with the situation. The man in front of him, Technoblade, wasn’t how he imagined him. He tried to reason but the others wouldn’t want to hear it which Y/N could understand as well but this man didn’t look like the blood thirsty monster the others described him as.

The Pig Hybrid sighed, his eyes now instead of jumping around finally decided to rest on Y/N, who in return suddenly felt small under his gaze. Did Techno realize that Y/N was the attack bait? Is he falling for it? Or did he notice his trembling arms and legs. The fear and worry in his eyes. The burn wounds covering his hands and arms. The clearly damaged iron armor.

Was he seeing Y/N as prey or as the scared man that feared for his life he really was?

“What will it be, Techno?” Fundy snarled, showing of his sharp teeth.

His hands moved towards his side “If it has to be like that, then I choose blood!”

Then everything went really fast. His hands pulled out a few flask from his belt, hidden by his gown that he threw on the ground to buff himself.

The Butcher Army immediately grew panicked and barked orders, a clear and loud order from Quackity flew through the chaos and reached Y/N “Attack him, Y/N!”

And he didn’t know why but he moved in. He was scared, his heart felt close to exploding in his chest, but he was somehow more scared of Quackity and what could happen shouldn’t he listen. Scared that he would force him to work even more, refusing him sleep and food again. Not letting him treat his wounds properly that he got from the work.

So, he moved in. With shaking legs and what felt like without strength in his arms. The world turned blurry. Was he crying or just his nerves? He couldn’t tell.

All he remembered was Techno coming close to him, looking like a demon. His eyes wide and filled with what Y/N assumed to be bloodlust.

Y/N moved his arm up, just trying to hit Techno with his own sword, but Techno was faster. He slammed the blunt end of his netherite sword into Y/N’s neck. Shocked by the sudden attack, he fell to the ground. The world growing dark for a few seconds as he coughed and tried to breathe again.

As he sat in the cold snow, trying to calm down he heard the Army yelling. Metal clanging on metal.

Then it suddenly stopped.

A neighing. A horse? What?

Luckily Y/N seemed to have regained somewhat control over his own body and could assess the situation in front of him.

The Butcher Army seemed to be alright. Y/N’s armor really held through, no obvious damage on it. They were out of breath and sweating but alright.

A bit ashamed Y/N couldn’t help but be proud of his work that it withstood a buffed-up Techno with a netherite sword.

But what really caught his attention was Quackity who held the reigns of a horse with diamond armor. His axe held up close to the animal’s throat.

Technoblade moved the tip of his blade towards him “Get away from that horse, Quackity!”

“Follow us peacefully and nothing will happen to the horse, Techno. Your choice.”

There was a slight hesitation as Techno undoubtedly tried to gauge if he could somehow deal with Quackity differently but ultimately, he suddenly dropped his weapon as well his armor.

Perplexed Y/N got back up, still rubbing his neck.

Techno spared him. He obviously just tried to either knock him out or make him unable to fight, which he succeeded in. Wouldn’t it have been for Y/N’s reinforced skin due to his Iron Golem side he would have been knocked out for sure.

Fundy did not hesitate to jump in and wrap chains around Techno’s wrists “Y/N! You are the strongest one of us. You hold on to him, we will be close by to ensure he won’t run off.”

Avoiding looking at the others directly after having been taken out of the fight so easily, he made his way towards Fundy and grabbed the chains. Wrapping it a few times around his own arm as well. Feeling sick to his stomach as he realized that he was doing the same thing to Techno like back when the group escorted him out of his own village.

He couldn’t help himself but whisper towards Techno a quick “I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

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