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bluerose5 · 1 year

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fenhanders prompts: you don't get to cuddle in bed with your lovers in the Circle. Anders still can't believe he gets to wake in the arms of the two people he loves most. (aka Let Anders Be Cosy Comfy And Loved)

Like always, I wrote more than what was probably expected, but I hope you like what I had in mind, anon. Thanks for the prompt! 🥰

~~~

Every so often, Anders would find himself in Fenris' bed.

For the most part, their trio initially stayed at the Hawke estate every night, but it was no secret that Garrett could barely stand to remain there after Leandra's death. With Fenris' mansion restored to his liking, they often took to his home every other evening to get a change of scenery.

Of course, it was only natural that "every other evening" eventually turned into every evening until both Garrett and Anders were all but moved in.

Everything still felt so new to Anders.

Getting to share a bed with the men that he loved was unlike anything he ever imagined.

For so long, he had only dreamed of being able to wake up beside them, and now that dream was a reality.

Granted, sleeping together often resulted in waking up in the middle of the night to a smack in the face or an elbow to the gut, maybe even some snoring. Maker forbid any of them eat a meal that leaves their stomach unsettled for the night. Someone would end up hogging the blankets, which would result in a tug of war between them all. The victor would cocoon himself, only to have the blankets snatched away later on.

But Anders wouldn't trade it for the world.

Legs would tangle together, bodies warm and inviting.

Anders favored the middle, wedged in between Garrett and Fenris.

Hours would be spent in each other’s arms, asleep, but it somehow never felt like enough.

Then again, waking up was always Anders' favorite part.

In spite of their terrible sleep schedules, Anders always managed to be the first to awaken. In that fuzzy, semiconscious state, Justice lingered at the edges of his mind, giving off a soft, blue glow that pierced through the darkness of early morning.

Together, they watched, breathless, as the break of dawn brought with it the first hints of daylight.

The sun's golden rays trickled in through the mansion’s windows. They fell across the bed, cutting through the shadows that fell over them like cooled sheets.

With light, there came warmth.

Anders watched as tiny motes danced in the air, but they couldn’t possibly hold his attention for long, not when he had Garrett and Fenris pressed up against him.

He and Justice savored the peace and quiet. They savored each shift of the bed, every inch of their partners pressed up against their body.

Each heartbeat sent thin, web-like cracks pulsating along Anders' body, spreading farther and farther until they reached from head to toe.

They took a deep breath, held it, and released it.

When they were merged in such a way, that initial breath always felt as if they had surfaced for the first time after living underwater their entire life. There was a tension that lingered, yes, but there was also a great relief unlike any other.

Whatever air they managed to recover was quickly stolen away when they focused on the men sleeping soundly in their arms.

They didn't dare move a muscle, lest they disturb them, but that didn't mean that Anders and Justice couldn't take their time to admire their beauty.

Both of them were so similar yet so different. Scars and tattoos covered the expanse of their bodies, Fenris' being more of an ode to his past, whereas Garrett's told both his story and the ones of those who came before him. Garrett adorned himself in a variety of jewelry and piercings, but Fenris couldn’t stand the thought of a needle penetrating his skin, even if he found such adornments to be attractive.

While Fenris settled into a long, languid stretch —matching Anders' towering height in its entirety— his lean, muscular build housed so much strength, concealing the warrior's spirit within.

Garrett, in contrast, was a bit on the shorter side, and that was being generous on Anders' part. He was broader, his strength more overt. There was an undeniable musculature hidden beneath Garrett’s soft exterior, noticeably heavier than when he first arrived in Kirkwall.

Being of both human and elven blood, he had more hair than Fenris' smooth frame, yet probably about as much as Anders.

Warm, brown skin caught the light, brushed against the pale expanse of Anders' skin, slightly flushed from the heat that radiated between them.

Brushing his fingertips along their backs, Anders eventually worked his way up to trace each and every detail of their faces, committing them to memory as Justice’s glow slowly but surely faded away.

Fenris was the first to react, always alert at a moment’s notice.

Eyelashes fanned out across his cheeks, fluttering as he struggled to open his eyes.

"Mage," he grunted, the word more so used as a term of endearment, especially compared to when they first met. Yawning, Fenris tried to rub the sleep from his eyes. "What are you doing up?"

"Oh, you know," he whispered, giving him a half-shrug, careful not to jostle Garrett too much. "Just couldn't sleep."

Already, his heart skipped a beat. Those green eyes pinned him into place with a knowing stare, white strands of hair falling down to block the view.

"Nightmare?" Fen asked, an eyebrow raised in question.

"Far from it, actually," Anders breathed.

Reaching out, he brushed Fenris' hair back from his eyes, tucking the strands behind his ear.

Fenris peered over at him, curious.

"What?" Anders asked.

"Nothing," Fenris answered. "It's just that you seem happy this morning."

Anders huffed out a breath of a laugh, amused.

"Am I not allowed to be happy?" he countered.

"That's not what I meant," Fenris sighed. Some of his markings glowed softly, waking when he did. "You're allowed to be happy. I have simply grown used to you being… unsettled most days. Restless." He paused, considering. "It is nice to see you content for once. I think you deserve some peace from all the worries that plague you."

Anders blinked owlishly at that.

"Well, thank you," he murmured, caught off guard by such a sentiment. "I guess…"

He trailed off, averting his eyes, and sank his teeth into his bottom lip.

Fenris reached out to coax it free with his thumb before Anders could damage the skin too much.

Anders spared him a grateful look, then glanced down at their snoozing Champion.

He took a deep breath, and tried again.

"I guess that I am happy to even be here," he explained. "To be in a place in my life where I can be free with my affections. That I don't have to hide who I am or those that I love, for fear of punishment. Maker, the fact that I can even say that I'm in love aloud without fear overtaking me!"

He beamed, eyes crinkling at the corners.

"For a great deal of my life, I have lived in a place that preached, day and night, that people like Garrett and I were unworthy of love, all because of how we were born. In the Circle, you would be considered lucky to steal a brief moment alone together to relieve some stress, let alone anything more." Anders swallowed thickly, a slight burn building in his eyes. "Being able to wake up and feel you two beside me, to know that I am no longer alone…"

Tears streamed down his cheeks, one after another.

He hadn't even realized that Garrett’s breathing had changed up its pace. He tensed ever so slightly at Anders' side, listening in.

"If anything ever happens to the two of you—"

Justice’s glow surged across his skin, there and gone in the blink of an eye.

His influence lingered, echoed. Anders' voice remained noticeably deeper than before.

But Garrett stopped him before he could let his mind venture too far down that path.

"Hey," he said, his hair tie barely containing the wavy curls falling around his face. "Don't. Nothing will happen to us." He cupped Anders' cheek, leaning his forehead against his. "I'll make sure of it."

"And I, as well," Fenris stated.

"Neither of you can promise me that."

"We just did," Fenris said with the utmost conviction, his tone leaving no room for argument. After Garrett pecked Anders sweetly on the lips, Fenris kissed Anders as well. And when Garrett stole a kiss from Fenris, the latter wrinkled his nose. He grumbled at them, playful. "Ugh, morning breath."

"Yeah, yeah," Garrett laughed, snuggling up to Anders' side as more sunlight slowly filtered into the room.

He traced his fingers along Anders' chest, his hand soon splayed out above his racing heart.

Anders placed his hand atop Garrett’s, their gazes trained on one another, dark brown meeting honey gold.

Garrett blessed him with a tender smile that made his spirit soar.

He wiped away Anders' tears with his free hand, Fenris catching any strays that got away.

"Just so you know," Garrett told them, "I'm grateful for whatever force brought you two into my life; and come what may, I know one thing for certain."

He turned his hand over to tangle his fingers with Anders', Fenris resting his hand over theirs in understanding.

Their skin sang everywhere they touched.

"Whatever the future has in store for us, we'll get through it, so long as we face it as one," Garrett explained, gently squeezing each of their hands. "Together."

Fenris nodded, but it took Anders a moment to catch his breath, choked up on the sudden onslaught of emotions.

Eventually, he managed a single word.

"Together," he agreed.

#dragon age #dragon age 2 #da2 #anders #fenris #garrett hawke #fenhanders #justfenhanders(?)#because that's probably more accurate 😂#fenhawke #fenders #handers #bluerose writes #bluerose answers

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angelasscribbles · 1 year

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DWAW The Early Years

This is a snippet from Savage Love, chapter 7: New York Redux. That is a Liam centric chapter for the most part, but this snippet is a glimpse into Drake and Liam as teenagers. @drake-walker-appreciation

Leo turned to me, “You have no idea how competitive these two are. When we were kids, they competed over everything! Including girls until, what was her name? The one whose parents had to get involved?”

“What?” I laughed, “I need to hear this story!”

“You really don’t!” Liam looked alarmed.

“No, you do not!” Drake blurted out at the same time.

“Good to see you two agreeing on something.” I turned back to Leo, “Spill!”

“The rivalry just got ridiculous. Liam hired a skywriter, a goddamn skywriter! And Drake-“ Leo had to catch his breath and get his laughter under control before continuing, “Drake released an entire heard of goats in her house!”

“What?” I turned to Drake in astonishment.

“She liked goats! She told me she thought they were cute, and she always wanted one!” He said in his defense.

Leo kept going, “Her parents were not amused! Neither was Constantine when Drake painted her name on the top of one of the old guard towers! I still don’t know how the hell he even got up there!”

Drake snorted, “At least I didn’t try to serenade her at three o’clock in the fucking morning.”

Liam’s head shot up, “Hey! I was fourteen!”

“Her father chased him off their property with a saber!” Tears were running down Leo’s face.

“Oh my god! This is gold! So, what happened?” I asked.

“Her parents threatened to file restraining orders against both of them and she ended up dating fucking Maxwell Beaumont for six months!”

“And we got grounded, for like, forever!” Liam supplied.

“I had to clean that paint off the tower and that was a lot harder than putting it up there had been.” Drake grumbled, then he looked at Liam and asked, “Remember when you ate that ghost pepper because I dared you to in front of her?”

Liam blanched a little, “It took me three days to recover from that! But you ate like a pound of margarine to impress her, so I’d say we’re even.”

I blinked, “What?”

Drake shrugged, “She said no one could eat an entire container of margarine with a spoon. So I did.”

“And you thought that would impress her, why?”

He shook his head, “I….have no idea….I was a stupid teenage boy.”

“As opposed to now,” Leo slapped him on the back, “when you’re a stupid teenage like man child.”

“The point is,” Drake turned to Liam, “After that, we agreed that we’d never let a girl come between us again.”

“We were fourteen.” Liam reminded him, “This is different.”

#drake walker appreciation week #drake walker appreciation #dwaw #drake walker #drake x mc #captain drake walker

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gracelesslady23 · 2 years

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absolutely Love your prongsfoot fics!,!!I am curious about ur vampire and injustice wips. loved that azkaban snippet, it was deliciously angsty!!!

Thanks so much for the compliment and the ask! (super glad you liked the angsty Azkaban snippet too – I’m so excited to one day post that fic 😊)

The Vampire WIP was my original plan for my fic for James Potter fest I realised was way too ambitious for the timeline lol. (I ended up submitting this fic for the fest 😊).

The WIP fic takes the concept of Vampire Hunter James and Vampire Sirius much further… Sirius and James both come from a long line of Vampires and Vampire Hunters, respectively. They meet accidently when they are very young and quickly become fast friends until Fleamont discovers just who his son has become friends with and their friendship splits apart.

Many years later James (who is a fully fledged hunter in his own right) gets seriously injured in a raid against Vampire Bellatrix gone wrong and is admitted to hospital. Sirius who has split from his family at that point works in the hospital and uncovers Bellatrix’s plan to finish James off. Remembering his old friend fondly, despite the fact that James now openly hates all vampires including Sirius, Sirius pretty much abducts James to keep him safe… While hiding out at Sirius’s place while James recovers and completely despite themselves they can’t help but be drawn to each other’s personality (as well as being extremely physically attracted to each other lol). Basically my attempt at a enemies to lovers with a vampire spin.

Here's a snippet:

~~~

Sirius rubbed his palms nervously over his jeans. If were capable of it, he was sure his palms would be sweating profusely.

“So…” Remus said after far too long of a pause, “you’ve kidnapped a vampire hunter.”

Sirius cringed.

“I didn’t kidnap him.”

Remus tore his eyes away from the sleeping body on the bed to regard Sirius with deeply unimpressed look.

“You hypnotised to sleep, carted him from the hospital where he was receiving medical treatment, brought him to your apartment and now he’s asleep in your bed. I’m keen to hear what you would call it?”

“Saving him?” Sirius offered, the tipping up of his last syllable sounding completely unconvincing even to his own ears. “He killed Rodolphus and almost Bellatrix. It was only a matter of time before Bellatrix found him again and finished him off. Come on Remus, what was I supposed to do? At least here, I can protect him.”

Remus looked down at the snoring lump that was James Potter.

“Just leave him.”

“Remus, you must see reason – ”

“No, you need to see reason. I suspect the only reason he is not currently trying to kill you is because he is asleep.”

~~~

I don’t know if other writers do this, but Injustice is an idea that I love but have put on hold until I become a much better writer and can actually do it some justice (pun intended :P). So, I haven’t really got a snippet for it, but I have got a very large planning document!

Its an AU where Sirius never went to Hogwarts so he and James never met. James is magical lawyer (he mostly lives off his inheritance and takes on cases for the downtrodden pro bono). Anyway Regulus Black turns up at his office and he’s about to turn him away immediately – because why would the Black’s of all people need his services, the Blacks were usually the people James was defending against, not working for!

However, he is intrigued by Regulus’s story… a couple of years before Sirius caused a huge scandal in the wizarding world by confessing to losing his mind and killing twelve muggles as well as his own mother. He was sent to Azkaban never to be released, but Regulus maintains that it wasn’t Sirius that killed them and instead he was taking the fall for their unwell (now deceased) father. James does some of his own research and becomes fascinated not just by the murder itself (and upon inspection how neither Sirius’s confession nor Regulus’s version of events entirely match up with the evidence), but also by Sirius himself. Ultimately James falls for Sirius through character witnesses, stories of his accomplishments and pictures, etc. before they even actually meet, at the same time as trying to uncover the truth of who is actually responsible for the crime Sirius was imprisoned for.

#prongsfoot #wip game #asks #thanks again for the ask!#hp #sb #jp #my fics #snippet

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aufhcker · 9 months

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Continued Thread II @malumxsubest

“I beg to differ, dear. This does concern me.” Everything that happened in Hildesheim was observed by him; nothing went amiss. He knew of every soul that lived within its borders, including their names and how they contributed to the town. Should any of them go missing, he was instantly aware. His entire being was dedicated to protecting the innocent and ridding the wrongdoers; a guardian over-looking his kingdom. Anything out of the ordinary was picked up immediately, and for Amelia, she belonged to that category. And now he was here to restore order. “These men were exceptional at their job,” he commented, glancing over at what was left behind from her hunt with a forlorn sigh. For years, they had exterminated vampires who strayed too close -- indirectly working alongside him to prevent them from ever setting their fangs into Hildesheim’s inhabitants. He was proud of their accomplishments. But even the best of them could lose focus and make a mistake; they had no idea how powerful their latest opponent was. Nothing could have prepared them, but his heartbreak came from knowing that he should have gotten here sooner.

A failure on his end.

“This entire town will mourn their loss, as will their families.” Because like her, they rose up to defend their own. They were not so different, after all. Although he wanted to erase evidence of their deaths, leaving them to be discovered was part of the natural process. It would give the humans even more reason to be cautious -- and quite rightly, furious. More hunters would take their place in retaliation, far stronger next time. He was always in awe of their resilience when recovering from disaster. “Oh, but you underestimate them! Weak in body, yes, but not of mind. They will not fret, but rather rise up. And I will be there when it happens.” But her choice to begin walking away told him that she had no fear for that eventuality. It made him huff in frustration, before taking a deep breath to compose himself. There was always a solution -- and her final comment gave him an idea. Loathe as he was to admit it, she would never leave by simple threats alone. Creatures such as her only sought to gain, but he could, too.

“--wait.” Through gritted fangs, Apsel considered his next words carefully. “I want to make a deal with you,” he paused to gauge her reaction, and upon noticing that she remained, he continued with a sigh of resignation. “We both have our reasons for being here tonight. For you, sustenance. For me, serving to protect. Well, we seem to constantly reach an impasse -- but I have an idea that could benefit us both.” By refusing to acknowledge working together, he felt less disgusted. Instead, it was an arrangement. “There is a prison on the outskirts of Hildesheim with criminals waiting out low sentences. Every now and again, they are released.” Good behaviour was an appropriate grounds for being forgiven, apparently. He disagreed entirely. But at least it gave him plenty of thrill to hunt them down afterwards. ”Contrary to your belief, I do not consume their corpses. All that evil coursing through their veins tastes foul.” It burned the back of his throat, leaving a most unpleasant aftertaste.

“But I have to find ways of disposing them.” Sometimes, he had no time. It was an arduous task that could be avoided, leaving him more opportunities to eliminate more sinners. “So...If I offer these criminals to you on a routine basis, will you agree to leave my people alone?”

#malumxsubest #v; leap upon #( Sorry I had to put in a new post! It kept duplicating our replies when I edited )#( I love these two fighting )#( the vibe is 'sweetie (derogatory)' )

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intangibly-here · 3 years

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it’s a fact (that i want you in my life)

various (diluc, kaeya, xiao, zhongli)

- scenarios; 6.8k words - gn!reader - fluff & angst - hurt/comfort - warning: description of injuries/blood, mild cursing

————————————————————

is it really so hard to be understood?

[argument & reconciliation scenarios]

title from mckay, jeff bernat - angel 2 me.

requested by @nanana-kashi

————————————————————

❥ diluc

it’s a chilly evening, as always.

you trod down the dusty path, steps kicking up clouds of dirt and sending pebbles skidding as you walk. the dim glow of street lamps illuminate the edges of your figure, passing under them on your stroll returning home. you take carefully measured steps past the countless rows of grapevines, past the stone walls of the building’s perimeter, and arrive at the polished front doors.

the dawn winery is quiet in the evening, only the chirping of crickets filling the silence, whereas servants would fill the air with talk and work during the day. fishing out a key from your pocket, you unlock the door with a click.

all that meets you when you enter is more silence. empty again.

diluc has always been a busy man. he’s a hard worker, as are all of the people that surround the two of you are, and he carries the heavy weight of an entire legacy on his shoulders. recently, however, he’s been especially illusive, managing the angel’s share during waking hours and working undercover as the “darknight hero” so to speak throughout the evenings.

while it’s not out of the ordinary for diluc to work nights on end, it is unusual that you haven’t caught a glimpse of him at all, between visiting the angel’s share during his usual shift or roaming the paved streets of mondstadt. even asking charles himself remained fruitless.

“my sincerest apologies, but i haven’t seen him. i’d thought he was with you.”

it’s even more unusual that he hadn’t told you a word of what he’s been up to. were you that untrustworthy?

you close the door with a resigned sigh, removing the bow that’s been strapped to your back and resting it against the wall across from the entrance. your pull your gloves off, the mahogany leather of it reminding you of ruby eyes and stiff clothing. they drop into a box rested on a nearby shelf. the unsettling silence closes in around you, and for a moment, you breathe in a strikingly painful loneliness. it fills your chest uncomfortably, like it’s carving out a hollow space in-between your ribs, gnawing at your heart. then, you breathe out, and the discomfort dissipates. no, he trusts you. you know you both do.

even so, something shifts wrong inside you without diluc here.

you’re not sure how to feel about it.

you minutely fiddle with your ring, cool silver pressed against warm skin, finger tracing the simple engravings carved into it with care. it’d been your request for something subtle, away from the flashiness of blinging jewels and rare stones.

he’ll be back soon.

you say this, turn the words over and over in your head just as you turn the ring on your finger, but you know better than that. you had truly believed it the first day, but then the first day bled into a second, a third day into a fourth, a fifth, sixth, seventh—

and now you stand here on the eighth day by the arching doors, inside the enormous mansion, cold and disappointed and alone.

you shake your head, chastising yourself internally. it’s no use worrying yourself down over it. dropping the rest of your belongings in a pile by the foot of the bed, you scratch the back of your head and turn to the bathroom. best to run yourself a shower and get to bed quickly. the whirring of crickets and fireflies keep you company ‘till the sound of splashing water erases the quiet.

you’re toweling your hair off, foggy wisps of steam trailing behind you as you leave the bathroom, when you hear the resounding click of the front door.

diluc?

leaving the towel hanging around your neck, you walk to the entrance room where the man you’ve been waiting for stands upright, glancing at you when you enter. it only lingers for a second, before darting back to his own hands.

“welcome home.”

“thanks.”

the clock ticks in the heavy silence.

“not going to say anything?”

he lifts his head up to face you properly for the first time in a week, confused. fiery red hair shuffles with his movements, and he releases it from the confines of his hairtie. “what is there to say?”

you take a deep breath, shoulders rising, then falling again. you fiddle with your ring again. “we haven’t seen each other for days, and there’s nothing you want to say?”

“...” he purses his lips.

“i’ve been looking for you.”

diluc looks away. “..i’ve been busy.”

your stare turns frostier by the second, the beginnings of a bonfire starting inside you. oh really now? just an ‘i’ve been busy’? “busy enough that you couldn’t spare even a second to let me know that you were doing okay?”

he bristles at your chilly tone, hackles rising, and body turning sharply away, apparently preoccupied with hanging his coat up. “i don’t need you to fret over me like— like this.”

the words have you suddenly losing all your temper, leaving behind only the dredges of a deep-seated sorrow.

“am i not allowed to worry about my husband?”

his untold frustration seems to only grow at the dimming fire flickering out in your eyes, and his eyes narrow. still, he stays silent, a brooding look on his face. it wars with the thinning desperation you unconsciously let yourself show tonight.

“ —even if you won’t tell me what you’re up to, why won’t you see me at all?”

the loosening hold on your emotions is gripped tight once more at the deafening silence not unalike how it were even without him. your face is drawn neutral once more, and you turn to make your way back to bed.

“..alright, diluc. goodnight then.”

seems like tonight was a lost cause as well. you trail through the hallways, pausing before the door to the study. you enter against your better judgement, something pulling at you to not do this— but really, did you have to listen to that voice? something curls inside you, hurt and tired. that voice never helped with anything anyway. diluc’s still drifting, far, farther away from you and you’re still alone.

(you know your emotions are getting the better of you, but you just can’t help it. how are you supposed to handle something you’d never dealt with before?)

standing before a relatively smaller bookcase, you reach up to pull out a book rather carelessly—

diluc opens the door, a regretful nervousness on his face and brow furrowed, to see the heavy wooden shelf tumble onto you. his eyes widen, and he lunges forward.

thud.

you blearily blink your eyes open a couple times to dim spots floating across your vision. two distinct voices murmur somewhere in the vicinity of the room. last you remember, you’d left diluc at the front door... and went to pick out a book for the study.. and oh.

so you’re recovering now, you’d assume.

you trace the bandages on your head with sublime caution. the door clicks shut, bringing you out of your thoughts, and you tilt your head on the pillow. red. it’s diluc. he’s in his casual attire, plain white top and black slacks, but is still so stunning. maybe even more so than his regular clothing.

diluc whips where he was staring at the door towards you, eyes wide and hand flying to his face. it’s flushed a brilliant crimson pink.

oops.

snapping out of his daze, diluc rushes to your side and kneels by the bedside. your mouth opens to protest his actions, then pauses, and closes again. it’s about time you receive an explanation. you two are past unnecessarily polite formalities. he grasps your hands in his calloused ones like a lifeline.

“i’m so, so sorry, my love.” he stumbles over his words, almost like he’s choking them up from the bottom of his heart. maybe he is. “i didn’t want to get you caught up in the— the incompetence of the knights, and all the troubles that come with cleaning up after them.”

he glances away at the floor, gazing somewhere you can’t reach him.

“...all it brings is sorrow.”

he takes a shaky breath, and his eyes glisten from underneath his mussed bangs. his hands tremble in yours, and your eyes soften. you run a hand through his hair in a silent gesture. continue when you’re ready. it’s alright.

“a-and so i didn’t tell you, didn’t go to find you. there was a really— really unexpected gathering of abyss mages, and i didn’t want you to get involved. but you’re right— i shouldn’t need to hide it or avoid you because of it. i’m—”

he chokes back a sob, wiping furiously at his eyes, and for a moment, it reminds you of how he was before everything happened. how bright he was. how open. but it’s of no importance any longer, and you brush the stray thoughts aside. mature or not, cheery or not, he is still diluc. he is still the man you love.

“it’s okay, love. it’s okay.” you shush his sobbing gently, cupping his face in the palm of your hands. “i forgive you. i always will.”

you nudge him up from the floor and into downy bedsheets, nestling him in front of you. encircled in your embrace, diluc huddles closer to you, sniffling all the while.

“when the bookcase fell on you, i was so scared. i— i thought you’d...”

he trails off, face buried in the crook of your neck. you can feel him pressing his cheek into it, nuzzling closer. you lean your head against his in a comforting manner, i’m here love, and the heavy conversation peters into a soothing silence. you both move in tandem with your breathing, intertwined and floating in the newfound peace.

“..’m love you...”

but a whisper in the (welcomed, for once) silence, diluc drags out the mumbled syllables childishly, probably embarrassed from the entire ordeal. you press a warm kiss to the top of his head and smile for once, affectionately, softly, sweetly—

“love you too, diluc.”

❥ kaeya

sometimes, just sometimes, the personality of kaeya alberich, mister cavalry captain of the knights of favonius, gets on your nerves.

kaeya is sly and sweet-talking, words sharp and lined with double meanings left and right. even at night, tucked into each other and settling into the quiet of drowsiness, teasing words will slip out of his lips and leave you either furiously blushing, firing back at him, or cracking up in full blown laughter— most of the time.

his joking manner is what drew you to him, the way he’s the spark in the room and how he brightens up your life with every passing moment.

it is also what is pushing you away now.

you know you’re being stupid. his joking and teasing is just one of the many parts of the man you fell in love with, inseparable and intertwined. it’s just kaeya being— well, kaeya. and it’s a wonderful part of him that you’d never want him to give up on.

the thought itself doesn’t exactly help when you’re spiraling into a pit of unwanted emotions.

lately, you’ve been heading home late, exhausted and worn out from putting everything into your job during the day. you hadn’t anticipated the rain to come down so hard and in turn didn’t bring an umbrella, resulting in absolutely waterlogged clothes and soggy shoes as you neared the pathway up to your home. today, you’d just like a little soft peace and quiet.

the thought stings like a sharp slap to the face when you open the door to kaeya’s unusually boisterous laughter (usually it’s less... annoying than this...), the room smelling thickly of wine. you can hear the clink of glass against glass from where you’re standing in the doorway.

whenever kaeya happens to consume alcohol, he becomes rowdier than ever; this incident is no exception. you shake your head and sigh. apparently kaeya is sober enough to notice you, because he looks over at you and grins in a telltale sign of mischief.

(not sober enough to recognize your breaking point it seems.)

“kept me waiting long enough, sweetheart! look at poor lil’ lonely me, sitting here with only this wine to keep me company.” he shakes the bottle in his hand, pouring another glass, taking another sip. “don’t you think i deserve a little something? maybe—”

the rest of his words are drowned out in the buzz of your mind, piling on your strained emotions. it’s so much. too much. (it’s unreasonable, you know you know you know, but you can’t stop, won’t stop, it won’t stop—)

does he not see you?

the words fly out of your mouth before you can reign in your haywire thoughts—

“would you just shut up? asshole...”

—anddd you didn’t mean to say that.

the rainwater drips from your clothes and pools onto the floor in a miserable puddle. the shocked look on his face and the thump of the wine botte falling to the floor says enough to send you turning on your heels back into the pouring rain. the door slams shut behind you almost achingly as you run wherever your feet will take you.

stupid stupid stupid! why did you say that! your head throbs in a mixture of hurt, guilt, and confusion. you stumble on rain-sodden ground and stray pebbles as your feet rapidly grow sore, unable to keep up with you anymore.

your legs give up from under you, and you collapse to the ground, face buried in your hands. even if you were tired, you shouldn’t have just shouted at him like that — he didn’t even know what you were upset over! you didn’t tell him!

picking the pieces of your thoughts back together as the adrenaline wears off, you unsteadily rise to your feet once more, knees shaky and weak. it’s as you’re preparing the walk home from who knows where you ran to, you hear a loud grunt from the vicinity behind you.

oh no.

just as you feared, when you turn around you’re greeted face-to-face by a shield-bearing mitachurl that’s likely strayed from its camp. its shadow looms in front of you, crawling forward as it slowly makes its way to you. you scramble for your sword, fingers digging at the buckles of your belt, then realize you had left it hanging on the sword rack at home.

(kaeya...)

the stomping grows closer, like an ominous sign, and you curse under your breath. as much as you’d like to believe you can survive this relatively unharmed, your wobbling legs and unarmed hands say otherwise.

without another moment to spare, the mitachurl dashes forward, swinging its shield as if it were weightless. you put all your effort into dodging its sweeping blows, the embedded stones whistling by your face as you scan the area in another attempt to run—

as you turn your head, the mitachurl charges in from your blindspot, slamming straight into the side of your head.

fuck.

the impact sends you falling backwards in a tangle of uncoordinated limbs and stinging scratches. the throbbing at your temple doubles over, and when you tentatively reach up to touch it, you feel it’s sickeningly sticky. blood. a lot of it.

black spots swim across your vision, and hazily, you think you hear a voice call your name in the distance. whatever it was, it’s soon drowned out by the sound of the creature stomping towards you impendingly.

hallucinating already? you bark out a hysterical laugh in spite of it all, then hunch over in a fit of hacking coughs. red streaks across the dry grass. it burns. you rub at your throat. any further efforts would be futile. you know a hopeless situation when you see one— or in this case, are in one.

thump.

another bruise blooms on your leg, and you wince. closing your eyes, your fuzzy conscious awaits its silence. there’s a swoosh, the raising of the mitachurl’s shield, and you brace your body for the impact—

“love, you— what— i—“

something, someone, lifts you up, up, up. and you’re drifting, carried in gentle arms and smooth fabric. the air grows heavier, the whistling of finely honed swordsmanship hanging in the wind, and the thundering steps draw to an abrupt stop. a familiar voice trickles into your ears, but your mind is sinking sinking...

(it trembles.)

on the edge of your sopor, just before you fall into its depths, you feel a clammy hand clutch yours. it’s warm.

mind empty, the bone-deep exhaustion swallows you, vision fading to black.

you awaken to soft white sheets and bandages looped round your arms. your muscles scream at you when you try to rise, flames of pain crawling up your torso and singing your nerves. a grimace paints itself across your face, and you slump back against the pillows. what had happened again...?

the lock clicks, door swinging open, and you turn your head to face it. kaeya steps in, a tray in hand as he closes the door with a twist of his hand. when he raises his head, his eye widens, and you can see the faint bags under it, red rimmed at the edge. you purse your lips, heart panging in your chest.

neither of you speak when he shuffles to the bedside, setting the tray down on the nightstand and picking up a stray pillow that had fallen to the ground. it must’ve been when you’d just woken up; you hadn’t noticed. he tucks in back into its spot behind your back, propping it to help you sit a bit more upright. he doesn’t retrieve his hands from where they rest on top of yours.

you start, “kaeya, i’m so—”

he doesn’t let you continue, pressing a finger to your lips.

“sweetheart, i should be the one saying that.” he ruffles your hair endearingly, expression both relieved and pained at the same time. “i was drunk and just let you run out there—” he pauses. “i pushed it too far.”

you can feel the start of tears welling at the corners of your eyes, hands trembling and teeth wearing at your bottom lip. “...i still should’ve spoken up. you wouldn’t have known otherwise.”

he smiles warmly, genuinely, the cheerful glint in his eye sparkling at you through glossy eyes. “then next time, speak up, alright darling? we both can learn from this.” you nod, and he cups your face, thumbing the rims of your eyes and the side of your cheeks where rivulets of tears paint transparent rivers.

“may i kiss you?”

there’s a lot more to unpack to your actions, both your physical injuries and mending the worn strings of your minds, but for now—

you nod wordlessly once more and lean in, meeting him in a soft, sweet kiss. he wraps his arms around you in a familiar hug that you’ve sorely missed and pulls back, pressing more small, but equally as sweet kisses across your face.

—for now, this is enough.

❥ xiao

“you need to take better care of yourself!”

xiao rolls his eyes, crossing his arms in protest like a child. he sure is acting like one right now. why is it that he’s only like this when it comes to medicine? every time... you grimace at him, glaring threateningly and shaking the porcelain bottle in your hand. the round pills roll over each other, rattling in the container.

“xiao...”

xiao just huffs and snarks back, turning his face away as if it’d do anything.

“i’m doing fine. adepti don’t need medicine.”

it’s a weak argument, and he knows it. why is he fighting this so much? it’s just taking painkillers. no matter; it’s time to put in the finishing argument.

“it’s from zhongli.”

the statement has him freezing in place, chewing his bottom lip nervously. of course it’s the mention of zhongli that has him finally seriously considering listening to you. petulant kid. can’t believe you’re really dating this thousand-year-old child.

“i—”

he cuts himself off and goes silent for a beat, another argument on the tip of his tongue, but accepts the medicine in defeat anyway. you drop the little jar into his outstretched hand, and he pockets it in a flash. now if it were only that easy from the beginning...

“fine. but you have to stop nagging me so much.”

you can agree with that one.

“alright, it’s a compromise.”

unconsciously, his mouth draws into a pout, and you chuckle, dipping down and kissing his cheek. his face shifts from awkward confusion to sudden realization, immediately stiffening up and stalking off in a mere shadow of his usual cool.

if you spy the pink flushed tips of his ears and the prominent blush on his cheeks as he leaps off the balcony, you keep it to yourself.

so much for taking care of yourself.

“and you were saying?”

the door slides open, frame rattling as the illustrations of one panel swallows the other. xiao in all his midget glory strides in, footsteps careful as he closes the door behind him. a tray is balanced in one hand as he does it, somehow steadier than you’ve ever actually held a tray before. even with two hands. is this an adeptus thing too? expert, perfect, unbelievably infallible tray holding? you can tell from the expression on his face as he makes his way over that something’s tipping him off. he’s definitely grimacing, like he would when you said something unbearably stupid— in his terms of course. not yours.

is he a mind reader too? wasn’t that only a rex lapis thing? like with the prayers?

“you look like shit.”

even worse than earlier goes unsaid. his face is typical frosty-xiao, but his brows are furrowed and disbelief shines in his eyes. guess it wasn’t your thoughts after all. but actually, did you really look that bad?

“yes, it’s that bad. now sit up so you can eat.”

whoops.

holding yourself from making any snide comebacks, you move to touch your cheek as you sit up, a little shocked when it actually makes contact with the back of your hand; it feels as though your face was set in front of an open fireplace. a damp towel drops off your forehead, plopping on the blankets. it’s lukewarm. huh, didn’t notice that before.

removing the used towel, xiao sets the tray down on your lap meticulously. now closer, you can see the plates of cold noodles and steaming bowls of jewelry soup sitting on the wooden tray. the smell is incredibly appetizing, as expected of smiley yanxiao, and you take care in preparing to eat the sumptuous meal.

“aw, thanks xiao.”

he turns his head away habitually, too shy to meet your eyes. you can, however, see his fingers subconsciously fiddling with the edge of his sleeve. the sun takes that moment to peek out of the clouds and through the window, outlining the contours of xiao’s face and soften his sharp features. it makes him look almost luminescent, like an angel descended from the skies, and you’re drowning in his being. he’s stunning.

feeling your stare, xiao whips his head back around, narrowing his eyes and nearly growling. like a cat, your mind supplies. your cat.

(and then you laugh at your thoughts, because xiao isn’t anyone’s. you just happen to be by his side for as long as wants you here.

and yours, him.)

“don’t stare,” he hisses, and then you can’t hold your laughter any longer, hacking out laughter at his defensive demeanor. “you- !”

he hastily picks up the pair of chopsticks on the tray, taking a mouthful of mushroom-topped noodles between them and stuffing it into your mouth. you immediately cease your chortling to chew, else you shove yourself into a choking fit.

floating bits of dust fade in and out of the sunbeams falling on the floorboards, as if playing peekaboo with the air. the noodles are perfectly seasoned, mixed with just the right amount of sesame and savory sauce to not be bland, but not taste overpowering. they’re light and easy to swallow, and xiao hands you a cup of tea as you finish your bite; his fingers brush against yours, soft and warm. you sniffle. your runny nose hinders your senses, but you can still smell the faint scent of qingxin blossoms, and a relaxed smile makes it’s way to your face as you take a sip.

this is nice.

❥ zhongli

you’d first seen morax in the midst of a fierce battle.

jueyun karst was as empty as always, save for the presence of several adepti crouching in the shadows, more than the darkness would usually hide. then, as you sat high in the branches of one of the many golden trees in the valley, feet swinging over spikes of climbing amber protruding from the ground, you sensed a change in the atmosphere. the wind whistling through the treetops and over your head shifted sharply, soft gusts transforming into howling gales that had you falling backwards.

cursing under your breath, you gripped the branch tightly, face scrunched in a grimace. by the time the turbulent winds had stopped, your hair blown astray in a hilarious mess and your back rebalanced against the trunk of the tree, a squirming, inky mass of something had appeared, hovering in the air just above the ground. it steadily grew in both physical size and energy, the air humming and pulsing with it’s indiscernible movements, until it towered at the height of the larger trees, far larger than any human could.

you could feel the surrounding adepti grow increasingly concerned, their energy fluctuating wildly, but they showed no signs of movement. why? shouldn’t they be neutralizing this threat? your feet pick up their movement again from where they’d stilled during the storm, swinging back and forth. forwards. the lump of dark energy steps towards the harbor. backwards. another step. forwards. it pauses in its steps, unfurling its wings. back-

thump.

so that would be why they hadn’t moved. almost as if heaving a sigh of relief, the chaotic energy of the adepti lurking nearby immediately deflate, retreating back into a neutral state. oh hoh, a big shot? when a gold-pattern embellished white robe emerges from a tear in empty space, you nearly topple over from your spot in the tree. bingo.

the storm clouds in the sky poured as they fought, the sound of pattering raindrops both filling your ears and serving as a backdrop to the clashing of metal and vicious growls. as you watched him fight, the prime adeptus rex lapis, lithe form crossing blows with the distorted form of an abyssal beast, you knew from somewhere deep in your soul that something was bound to change.

(it was when you were leaping down from the tree to leave, silently thanking him with a glance in his direction, that your gazes interlocked. morax made for an awfully odd sight when he had both a curious spark gleaming in his eyes and a dissolving corpse at his feet. and well, if it got even odder when he invited you to tea, that would be his problem, not yours— even if you had accepted the offer.)

soon after, in the days following that first “meeting”, you’d seen zhongli (as he preferred to be called) in town, lingering indecisively around various stalls both big and small. noticing his dilemma, as a good friend (if you could be considered that; you’d only watched him slaughter a demonic monster and talked over tea once after all) you walked over and helped him out.

multiple tea outings, three bags of mora and several weeks later, zhongli is looking into your eyes— and wow, this is really reminding you of your first meeting, where he was beating the shit out of that thing while you all just sat around and waited for him to be done and— he’s getting closer? please say this is going where you hope it’s going—

evidently you win this time, because zhongli moves forward and presses his (soft, soft, soft—) lips to yours in a breathtakingly warm kiss.

he tastes faintly like the sweet syrup of the almond tofu you’d shared earlier, and the moment he draws his head back to allow you a breath, you pull him back in for another.

your shoes step soundly against polished flooring as you enter the doorway of liuli pavilion, soft chatter drifting between the rhythmic click-clacking of your stride. the waitress greets you politely as you walk in, taking a glance at the clipboard she’s holding, then gesturing for you to follow her.

“based on your attire and the time, you must be the one mister zhongli is waiting for, no?”

to the assenting dip of your head she gives her own in return, leading you through the back doors and to a secluded table out in the open. settled by the railing overlooking the harbor is zhongli, pristine as always, sipping a steaming cup of tea.

he doesn't notice you at first, attention trained on the book lain out on the table, but then you're sliding into your seat with a quiet thank you to the waitress, chair audibly scraping against the pavement, and he looks up. remarkably deep amber eyes meet yours, but then again, you’re not meeting a random passerby now, are you?

(you’re not wooing just anyone.)

or at least, that’s what you’d thought. however, by the time he’s mentioned guizhong for the— what, 5th time tonight? you can’t say you’re completely unfazed. guizhong was his partner in war, best friend, closest companion; of course he would talk about her. it’s only natural now that you’re getting to know each other more.

yeah. natural.

you rest your head on the palm of your hand, leaning forward onto the table. the glass of wine in your other sloshes against its confines. your eyes follow it as the liquid tips and turns over itself, deep mahogany flowing into semi-opaque purples and vibrant reds.

guizhong. she’s an inarguably important part of his very, very long past. you understand this— but really, did he have to talk about her regarding every single thing? it’s as if— as if you were just— just there. you’re missing something. there’s a label for this feeling, you know there is, but it’s only escaping your mind the more you think about it. just what is it...?

“the leaves of this tea have been harvested from wild glaze lilies themselves, then additionally infused with the purified essence of glaze lily blossoms. countless meticulous steps and tremendous efforts must have been taken to execute this brew as splendidly as it was. it is most definitely an exquisite tea befitting of guizhong’s legacy.”

zhongli pauses, then sighs wistfully, a reminiscent expression painted on his face.

“an... unfortunate end she had. time never stops, neither for gods nor mortals alike.”

ah, yes. irreversible, unalterable, set in stone. you’ve heard these words so many times over, no matter how eloquently they’d been reshaped and rephrased. no matter how different they’d sounded every time. no matter how much you wished you could stop overthinking it.

looking less like a new romantic interest and more like a replacement, you chuckle inwardly to yourself as zhongli stares out over the harbor, a new mortal friend to chat with. the thought hits a little too close to home, and oh that was the word you were looking for.

you are just a replacement.

how could you not be? you see how zhongli looks when he talks about her. though he doesn’t say it outright, you know he loved her.

still loves her.

and so, who— no, what are you but just another someone?

and here you were thinking you were someone special. of course you just had to stick your nose somewhere it didn’t belong.

you’d really thought you could keep your head cool in all situations; no, before all this you really had— but suddenly when emotions and love are involved, everything spirals out of your control. vile thoughts crawl up from the depths of your soul, clawing at your rationality and eating away at your want want want.

and so when zhongli turns to look into your eyes again, mixed emotions rise in your heart like bile would up your throat. the wine you’d been drinking all night loosens your tongue, and the words are slipping out of your mouth before you can take them back.

“are you really going to talk about her all night?“

fuck.

zhongli frowns for a fraction of a second, his head tilting to the side in contemplation, then parts his lips and replies:

“is there a problem with it?”

his answer makes you want to throw your head back in hysterical laughter. his energy is completely placid, which actually might make it even worse. he’s genuinely asking. genuinely fucking asking. here your head is, overrun with thoughts left and right, mind fraying at the seams, and that’s what he’s asking? is there a problem? your hand clenches and unclenches, nails digging crescents into the palm of your hand. he has to be joking.

a waiter arrives to change and refill the empty pot of tea, but immediately stiffens at the silent atmosphere. once the new tea leaves have been added and begun to steep, he immediately hightails it out of there, nearly slipping in his haste.

clink.

you set your wine glass on the tabletop. need to sober up after that one. zhongli still looks faintly puzzled, but allows you to do as you wish, and you both watch as steam floats up from the spout of the teapot. pouring a cup of glaze lily tea, your mind taunts, you take a sip to clear your head.

huh. that’s odd.

you pull the porcelain rim away from your mouth, tilting the cup to stare at its contents. nothing is out of the ordinary, and the tea smells as fragrant as ever, but there’s a particular... sweetness to it? if it were any more bitter you wouldn’t have payed it attention, but the brew shouldn’t be.. sweet?

“zhongli, did you add anything to the tea?”

the bewilderment on his face only grows.

“i don’t believe so? nothing other than the tea itself should be present...”

the corner of your mouth quirks down, eyes still inspecting the tea dredges in the cup. then why was the tea... was it really just your taste buds? a foreboding feeling sends shivers down your spine, and it’s building building building—

zhongli’s eyes suddenly widen, and he startles back from the table like a frightened colt. his head whips to the side, spear immediately appearing in his hand, and he draws his shoulder back at a speed you hadn’t seen before. the tip slices through air and hits its mark instantaneously, pinning the waiter from earlier to the wall he was lurking behind. zhongli rises from his seat, the tips of his hair glowing amber, and promptly knocks the man out with a blow to his neck. the waiter lets out a choked sound, then slumps unconscious. a crumpled piece of paper falls from his pocket.

instructions. zhongli understands what’s happened the moment he picks up the piece of parchment. most likely sent because of the swindling incident yesterday. a desperate last-resort attempt at ridding the millelith of a witness.

dexterous fingers begin to unfold the note.

but why implement such an unskilled assassin? they barely had any killing intent whatsoever, else they would have been noticed sooner. there are no weapons other than this dagger on them either... his eyes swiftly scan the contents of the note, and all at once, everything falls into place.

the tea. he should’ve realized it sooner.

the clatter of rattling dishes sounds from behind him, and he spins on his heels, staring wide-eyed—

red red red stains your hand and drips through your fingers, spilling out of your mouth and splattering the ground. red. your throat makes a garbled noise, not unalike the one made by the waiter just moments before, and your eyes dilate out of focus, rapidly glazing over. red.

you collapse in your chair, and all he can see is red.

picking you up carefully in his arms, he closes his eyes (from the red red—) and teleports to the pharmacy.

a single plead hangs in the air.

you jolt awake, hand flying to your mouth and chest heaving anxiously. you can still taste the metallic tang of blood. your blood.

then, as you’re trembling from what could have been a brush with death, firm arms wrap themselves around you, tucking you securely into a warm chest.

“shh... it’s okay. it’s okay.”

a low voice murmurs reassurances to you, cradling you in safety and tranquility. zhongli runs his hand through your hair soothingly, bringing you down from the frantic state you’d awoke to, and now you can recognize where you are. zhongli’s living room. you’re settled on his lap, gathered in his hold, and you can feel his steady breathing against you, a stark contrast to your own labored breaths. it’s when he’s sensed that you’ve regained rationality that he begins to explain.

“you were out for a few hours and collapsed due to the poisoning that was originally intended for my consumption. i sincerely apologize for that. it was an unfortunate mishap.”

his voice is smooth and saccharine sweet as he talks, a deep rumble that you can feel as you lay your face on his chest. he takes it on himself to explain a little further of what happened while you were unconscious, which you are grateful for so you can sort your... thoughts out, from before the interruption.

(while he brushes over the matter of carrying you in his arms rather perfunctorily, it still lights a warm flame in your heart. you want this to work out. desperately.)

when his narration peters out to a natural quiet, the muffled hum of early morning workers bustling about outside, you ask the question that’s been on your mind since the very beginning of your outing.

“is this,” you gesture to him, to you, to the comfort, the hugs, the love, “because of guizhong too?”

understanding finally washes over zhongli’s face in subtle waves, and he gives the most mesmerizingly fond smile to your doubting question. a rich chuckle bubbles up from his chest, the endearing tinge to it only pushing your slight confusion forward.

“ah, so this is what your previous question was mentioning.”

his eyes soften, the smudge of red under them only making the gold of his irises bloom even further. the hazy look in his eyes makes you feel like he’s drifting. you can recognize that well enough.

(drifting away from you, a faint bite of a bitter voice whispers.)

“yes, i did love guizhong. she’d departed from this land all too soon for me to convey it, and it is one of the few things i still regret to this day.”

the words spark a pang in your chest, the sharp, tingling-sour kind that reminds you of unripe sunsettias and overly spiced mint, but you take a deep breath and it fades. you should hear him out. you need to. you want to.

“i retold my memories with her to you because they were... my happiest memories. they were all i had to speak of, other than the redundant miscellaneous knowledge i’ve retained over the years. i’d thought you’d rather hear of happy experiences rather than the long tangents i can run myself off of. i’ve been properly chastised by this incident nevertheless.”

he gently tilts your head up from where it’s buried in the front of his silk shirt, wiping away the stray tears that roll down your cheeks. you sniffle and wait for him to finish speaking, chest already lightening.

“however, remember this— while i did love guizhong, you are not a mere semblance of her for me to retain by my side.”

he calls your name softly, reverently.

“my love, you are not a replacement. the one i’m in love with now is you.”

relief, warmth, and love love love surges in your chest altogether as he smiles gingerly, and you cup his face with your own hands, feeling the heat of his flushed cheeks against your palms.

his lips are plush, soft against your own chapped ones as you draw him into a kiss spelling all the things you couldn’t say out loud. that you were frustrated at the thought of being a rebound for him. that you were terrified at the thought of dying with regrets. that you were unimaginably relieved at his explanation.

that you love him too.

zhongli takes it all into stride, leading your hands to rest on his waist as his own cup the back of your head and nape of your neck. he kisses fully, wholeheartedly, lips moving tenderly against yours, giving back what you’re bringing forward to him, for him, in equal measure. it feels right.

thank you, zhongli.

1K notes · View notes

hpimaginesandblurbs · 3 years

Note

hear me out: Harry x fem!reader x Cedric…

Like Harry let’s it slip he has a little crush on cedric and you mention the possibility of a threesome and they’re totally down (watching Cedric fuck Harry … omfg)

pairing(s): reader x harry potter x cedric diggory

word count: 1.7k

warning(s): 18+, mmf, threesome, anal sex, oral (female receiving)

“So, I have a surprise for you,” you told Harry as you slowly approached your bedroom.

You could feel the nerves fluttering in your chest as you looked up at him. What if he hated the idea? What if he was embarrassed? What if he never forgave you?

But you knew your boyfriend well and you could only hope that he gave you the reaction you anticipated when you formed this little plan. It was no secret that Harry was bisexual, and a few weeks ago he had finally spilled that he had always harbored a small crush on one of your best friends, Cedric Diggory, all throughout school and into adulthood. You couldn’t deny that Cedric was handsome, so you had called in a small favor. That favor was currently waiting for the two of you behind the door.

When Harry gave you a nudge to continue, you took a deep breath and pressed on.

“Remember a few weeks ago when you told me you had a crush on Cedric? And that you’d like to have him in bed?” You asked, having no other way to broach the subject.

“Yeah?” Harry replied, still clearly confused as to why you were both still standing outside of your bedroom door having this conversation.

“Well, and you can totally say no if you want, but I told him and he would also very much like that. He’s in there right now. I can tell him to go home if you don’t want to though,” you half explained, half rambled.

Throughout the entire spiel, Harry grew redder and redder. You weren’t sure if it was from embarrassment or arousal until he looked at you. His green eyes were already dark with lust at the thought.

“You’re serious?” He asked, still a bit baffled that this was actually happening.

“Very. Now would you like to go inside, or…?” You trailed off, purposefully leaving it open ended so Harry had an out if he wanted to.

But no, your brave little Gryffindor immediately opened the door and strode inside. You followed a step behind him, anticipation swirling in your gut at what was about to happen. You stumbled upon the two most important men in your life seemingly having a conversation with just their eyes, assessing each other openly.

It didn’t take long until Cedric stood up from the bed and crashed his lips onto Harry’s, the pair of them moaning at the contact as you watched on. You had never considered yourself a voyeur, but watching the pair of them locked together like that, their hands roaming the others body, was making you incredibly wet.

When they finally broke apart, Cedric looked at Harry for a long moment before asking, “Has anyone ever fucked you, Harry?”

Despite the blush forming on his cheeks, Harry shot you a quick glance before answering. “Not by another man.”

Upon receiving that answer, Cedric shot you a satisfactory look that went directly towards your clit. “I see,” he said slowly, holding your gaze before turning back to Harry. “Would you like me to?” He asked, his hands never once leaving Harry’s fit build.

“Y-yes,” Harry stuttered out, and you could see him growing harder in his trousers by the second.

“Strip and get on the bed for me, alright?”

When Harry gave a shaky nod and got to work, Cedric made his way over to you.

“He’s delightfully responsive. You didn’t tell me that,” Cedric said, just low enough that Harry would have to strain to hear from where he was across the room.

“Figured I’d give you a nice surprise to make this worth your while,” you grinned at him, the both of you casting predatory glances at Harry as he continued to strip.

“This is more than worth it, trust me,” Cedric mused, his gaze slowly turning back to you. “And where would you like to be in all of this?”

“I’ve been content to watch, but I wouldn’t oppose whatever you have in mind,” you replied coyly, already knowing your best friend had a plan brewing.

“Well then, you should strip too,” he said with a wink before walking back over to Harry who was lying on his stomach on the bed.

You stripped dutifully, your core aching as you watched Cedric tease your boyfriend as he got him into the position he wanted him - on his knees with his arse perched deliciously in the air, completely exposed to both of your gazes.

“Fuck, he’s beautiful,” Cedric said to you, but his eyes didn’t leave Harry’s body once.

You watched as Harry started to squirm, unsure what to do when so openly exposed like this. You rarely left your boyfriend guessing in the bedroom, so you jumped into his rescue.

“Don’t ignore him, Ced,” you chided playfully, but by the way Cedric immediately put his hands on Harry’s waist, you knew he knew you were serious.

Once you were just as bare as your boyfriend, you climbed on the bed in front of him. You spread your legs so they were bracketing his body, exposing your dripping cunt to both men in the process. They let out twin groans as they watched you, Harry’s cock twitching between his legs.

Without a second thought, you ran your fingers through Harry’s hair until you had a handful and tugged his face towards your core, an obvious demand. He shot you a grin before diving towards you, his tongue readily running up your slit and teasing your clit.

“Go slow. I don’t want to cum until you do,” you told him, your hand leisurely running through his hair as he slowed his pace.

Once Cedric knew the both of you were situated, he made quick work of opening Harry up for him with his fingers. Every moan that spilled out of Harry vibrated through your core, making you dripping wet by the time Cedric took his cock out. Harry’s shiver of anticipation when he felt Cedric at his entrance was unmistakable, and you knew none of you would last long once Cedric started to fuck him.

“Do you want him to fuck you or are you happy with his mouth?” Cedric asked, his voice an octave lower since the last time he spoke, every move he made now driven by lust.

“He’s doing wonders with his mouth,” you said, stroking Harry’s again. “Besides, I think the both of us at once would be too much for him this time.”

Harry was so wrapped up in pleasuring you and shamelessly rocking his arse back against Cedric that he missed your subtle hint that this would not be the only time Cedric would make an appearance in your bedroom. But your best friend looked at you with a twinkle in his eye as he started pushing into Harry that he liked your idea just fine.

You watched as Cedric took Harry. Your boyfriend had to pull away from you for a moment as he adjusted, moans and whimpers spilling out of his mouth as Cedric worked every inch of himself inside of Harry’s tight hole. When you looked down at him, he looked the most fucked out he had ever been and then some, his whole body high strung as Cedric started rolling his hips in slow increments.

“Better not leave the lady waiting,” Cedric said as he bent down to talk lowly in Harry’s ear, shooting you a wink over his shoulder.

Once Harry got his mouth back on you, his movements were not what you had expected. In the heat of the moment you had anticipated him to be sloppy, slow, subdued. You had not anticipated him to be purposefully breaking you apart piece by piece as you watched him get beautifully fucked by your best friend.

The pair of them moved in perfect harmony as you all climbed closer and closer to the edge, a cacophony of moans engulfing the room.

“Fuck, I can feel how close you are, Harry,” Cedric moaned, his pace only growing harder and harder as time went on. “Cum for us.”

You watched as your boyfriend shook and collapsed after one, two, three more steady thrusts from Cedric before meeting his release, rope after rope of cum falling onto the bed as Cedric fucked him through it. Despite Harry’s now unsteady tongue, you fell over the edge just watching him, your own series of moans falling from your lips as you stared transfixed at the sight before you. Cedric came with a groan, buried deep inside of Harry as he released. Harry shuddered at the feeling, blissed out beyond belief between your two bodies.

You settled yourself on the bed as you watched them recover. Cedric was first, and he easily moved Harry up the bed and into your arms, Harry’s head laid on your chest. Hesitantly, Cedric laid down on the other side of Harry and curled his body around your boyfriends, the three of you content to lay in silence for the time being.

“How was that?” You finally asked, breaking the silence with your direct question to Harry. You had been stroking his hair and face, soothing him and waiting for his breathing to even out in the aftermath of his climax.

Harry pulled back slightly to look at you and you were almost ready to go again just at the sight of him. His skin was still flushed and everything about him screamed ‘fucked out’.

“It was incredible,” he said softly, almost hesitantly.

“What’s going through that pretty head of yours?” You asked with a small smile, already knowing exactly what he wanted.

“Well, I just,” he paused and slowly turned his head to look at Cedric. “Are you staying tonight?”

“Would you like me to?”

“Please,” Harry answered, his cheeks turning a delightful shade of pink at how desperate he was being.

But both you and Cedric gave him a fond smile and snuggled closer towards him. Harry responded with his own smile, and finally content in between your bodies, his breathing started to deepen as he drifted off to sleep. Over his head, you and Cedric shared a meaningful glace, one full of promise and anticipation for future nights spent just like this.

#harry potter smut #harry potter blurb #harry potter imagine #harry potter drabble #harry potter headcanon #harry potter #cedric diggory blurb #cedric diggory imagine #cedric diggory smut #cedric diggory headcanon #cedric diggory

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hopelesshawks · 3 years

Note

Can I request a Compress x Reader? Babytrapping + Breeding?

Ohhh interesting, of course you can! I rarely write for the villains so this will be fun. You didn’t specify but because baby trapping I did fem!reader. I also just realized you might’ve meant reader baby trapping Compress but I wrote Compress baby trapping reader so I hope that’s what you wanted 😅

The following request contains dark content. Check the warnings before reading

Warnings for vomiting, pregnancy, manipulation, non-violent sexual assault (baby trapping), breeding kink, unprotected sex, oral (f!receiving), fingering (f!receiving), minor dumbification? (reader is very no thoughts, head empty during the smut), minor size kink, minor pain kink

Three years.

Three years together and yet you never would’ve guessed that your boyfriend is the notorious Mr. Compress of League of Villains infamy.

You first met Atsuhiro while working at a hole in the wall theater company. He came up to you after performing one night and had been so effortlessly charming that you’d instantly been put under his spell. He was more intelligent than all of your exes combined and could make you laugh like no one else could. It hadn’t taken long for you to fall totally and completely for the charming man you met that night.

But all of that came crashing down around you when he came home from a “business trip” with a prosthetic arm and no amount of half-assed excuses about an accident on stage could assuage your suspicions. He managed to dodge a confrontation with you for almost a week before you’d finally put the final pieces together and went to him to demand an explanation.

“You’re a terrorist Atsu!”

“That’s just what the heroes want you to think my love, don’t fall for their propaganda.”

“It’s not propaganda it’s just a fact! People have died because of your actions!”

“And how many more have suffered or died because of heroes and the society they created.”

“You’re deflecting. I have always indulged your rants about hero society but this is too far! The man I fell in love with would never stoop to this level!”

Atsuhiro crosses the room to you in two quick strides, cradling your face gently with his hand while you feel the cool metal of his other find your hip, fingers slipping under your shirt.

“I’m still the man you fell in love with (y/n), I can assure you of that,” he whispers, pressing his forehead to yours.

“How could that possibly be?”

“Let me show you.”

He pulls you into a gentle kiss, reassuring in its care. As his lips move against yours, gently coaxing them to open so he can deepen the kiss and slip his tongue inside, you struggle to maintain your earlier anger. It’s a distraction and you know it is but it’s hard to resist as he starts to move you both back towards your bedroom. He makes quick work of your clothes and by the time your back hits the plush of your mattress you’re both already naked. His mouth finally releases yours to travel down your body, leaving bruises in his wake as he marks you as his.

“Atsu, wait we should, ah-” you start but he quickly shushes you before licking a long stripe up your waiting sex.

“Just relax Angel, let me take care of you. Let your thoughts drift away,” he all but purrs.

You try to focus on the conversation you know the two of you need to have but it slips from your fingers like grains of sand as he brings one hand to your swollen clit and starts rubbing slow circles. Your hands tighten in the sheets as he draws a low, keening whine out of you. His hazel eyes dance with smug satisfaction as he watches you try and fail to form a coherent thought. He doesn’t let up the pressure on your clit for even a moment as he drops his mouth to your waiting cunt and plunges his tongue inside. Your hand flies down to his curly hair on impulse, tangling in the brown locks and gripping tight. Your nails scratch along his scalp and your tight grip tugs at the roots of his hair but he loves the pain of it, knows it’s a sign he’s doing well as he brings up his free hand to add two fingers inside you as well. After so long together he knows your body just as well as you do and it takes no time at all for him to find that one spot inside you that has you seeing stars. Your climax builds and builds until you finally crash through the peaks of your pleasure, walls fluttering around your lover’s tongue and fingers as he coaxes you through your orgasm.

You’ve barely had time to recover from your orgasm before you can feel his erection pressing at your entrance. “W-wait, Atsu, condom,” you pant, shifting in the bed to reach for the bedside drawer but Atsuhiro stops you. “We don’t need it baby, wanna feel closer to you,” he murmurs, pressing kisses along your face as he eases you back down to laying flat on the bed. “But what if-” “You’re on birth control right?” he cuts you off. “I mean yea but-” “Then it’ll be fine, you worry too much.”

Any further protests you might’ve had are immediately silenced as a snap of your boyfriend’s hips has the tip of his cock brushing your cervix. You gasp as your body attempts to adjust to his girth. “You’re taking me so well baby, isn’t this so much better? Feel how close we are. Nothing between us, just as it should be,” he coos and it does feel good, good enough that despite the voice in your head telling you you should be cautious, you only nod and beg for more. The grin Atsuhiro gives you is almost blinding right before he presses his lips to yours, kissing you greedily as he slowly withdraws his hard cock before pushing back inside you again. You whimper and whine into his mouth as he starts to pick up the pace, each thrust more brutal than the last. Eventually he leans back and away from you, shifting your hips so he can plunge himself in deeper, but with his lips no longer occupied with yours he’s free to let his thoughts spill out and into the room:

“Gonna fill you up so well, fuck, my beautiful Angel.”

“You and me forever baby, gonna look so good round with my kids.”

“Taking my cock so well, can’t wait until you’re full of my seed.”

The words wash over you but barely register. There’s no room in your brain left for anything else as Atsuhiro takes over every corner of it. Language becomes a foreign concept to you, barely able to articulate your own pleasure in more than the sinful sounds dripping from your lips, let alone trying to process your boyfriend’s ramblings. His thrusts start getting sloppier as he brings one hand between you both to stroke your clit and push you over the edge with him. “I’m so close angel, I’m so close. Cum with me. Want you to finish with me while I stuff you full of my cum,” he pants and all you can do is nod as the coil in your belly winds tighter and tighter. As you clench harder around him he goes toppling over the edge first, crying out your name as he spills his load inside you. You never would’ve anticipated enjoying it so much but it’s that feeling that sends you over the edge, falling apart around his cock as he finishes filling you with his cum.

He helps you come down from your high with sweet kisses and whispered words of encouragement, but as the haze of lust fades, you start to remember the fight you both were having before. As much as you would like for this to be the kind of thing you can just kiss and make up over, it’s not and you know it’s a conversation that needs to be finished. Looking at your boyfriend as he settles more comfortably on top of you though, you can’t bring yourself to ruin the moment. Sleep is weighing heavy on your eyelids anyway so you resolve yourself to bring it up the next day.

Except the next day ends the same way.

And the day after that.

And the day after that…

Every time you try to bring back up Atsuhiro’s secret double life as Mr. Compress he manages to distract you just long enough to get you back into bed. At first you tell yourself it’s not a big deal that the conversation’s been delayed a couple days, but then it turns into a week. A week of very hot sex, mind you, but if the existence of Atsuhiro’s double life was a red flag then certainly his insistence on avoiding discussing it is an even larger one. After two weeks you finally resolve yourself to talking to him the next morning over breakfast, no distractions and no avoiding the issue with sex. Cooking helps with your nerves, giving you something to do with your hands and a task to focus on to help you ignore your roiling stomach. You end up making almost an entire breakfast buffet by the time Atsuhiro emerges from your shared bedroom to join you in the kitchen.

He barely has time to tell you good morning before you’re rushing him to the table and setting plates full of food down. You know you have to tread carefully so you use the time you both spend eating to organize your thoughts. This time for sure you’ll talk to him. You finally open your mouth to confront Atsuhiro once and for all but as you feel bile start to crawl up your throat what comes out instead is “I think I’m gonna be sick.”

No sooner have you said the words are you shoving away from the table and rushing into the nearest bathroom. You get to the toilet just in time, fingers clutching the rim of the bowl as you violently eject the contents of your stomach into the water below. It burns your throat coming up and your eyes sting, but a warm, comforting presence is by your side in an instant, one hand coming up to rub your back gently as the other pulls your hair away from your face. Only once your stomach is thoroughly emptied does the heaving finally stop and you’re able to sit back and catch your breath. “Are you ok my love? What’s wrong?” Atsuhiro asks with gentle care as he pulls you close. You shake your head, unsure yourself of what had turned your stomach. Sure, you were nervous to talk to Atsuhiro but not that nervous. It can’t have been something you ate since all you’d had was the breakfast you made and you know everything was cooked properly. You rack your brain for an answer only to go rigid when you start to settle on one.

“Atsu what’s the date?”

“The 22nd baby, why?”

Your blood runs cold.

You’d been so preoccupied with figuring out things with Atsuhiro that you hadn’t even noticed how much time was slipping past but there’s no doubt about it. Your period is two weeks late.

“I think I need to go to the doctor,” you whisper. No way in hell you’ll leave this up to a drugstore test. There must be another explanation for your sudden nausea. Sure, you and Atsuhiro had pretty much abandoned condoms. Every time you started to reach for one, he’d remind you how good it felt not to use one the first time and convince you to forgo it again. But you’re on birth control! This isn’t supposed to be possible.

God bless him, Atsuhiro doesn’t press you any further on why exactly you want to go to the doctor instead of trying to find something at home to settle your stomach. He simply helps you off the floor and then grabs the keys to your car so he can drive you to the doctor himself. You’re incredibly grateful that he doesn’t seem to share your nerves. He’s a calming presence next to you as your anxiety kicks into overdrive.

You’d asked Atsuhiro to take a seat without you while you checked into the urgent care. You didn’t want him to hear you describe your symptoms to the nurse waiting there. The kind woman immediately suspects the same thing you do and leads you to the bathroom so you can pee in a cup. She’s sympathetic and reassuring as she tells you to return to the waiting room while the doctor runs the pregnancy test but it does little to soothe your frayed nerves. The air in the waiting room feels oppressive and when your name is finally called to go back and see the doctor, Atsuhiro’s hand in yours is probably the only thing that keeps you grounded. You take a seat on the examination table and instead of moving to sit down in one of the chairs in the room, Atsu stays by your side, whispering reassurances into your ear. “Whatever’s going on I’m here for you my love.”

The doctor strides into the room shortly afterwards, greeting you warmly even if somewhat absentmindedly as she moves to the computer to check for your details. She confirms your date of birth and then after scrolling for a bit her eyes finally land on the results of your test. She smiles and your heart sinks. “Well it looks like congratulations are in order, you’re pregnant!” she exclaims, beaming at you. A lump forms in your throat as tears threaten to fall, anxiety making your hands shake as the weight of the situation starts to crash down on you. The doctor misinterprets your reaction and as she leaves the room to get you pamphlets on what to expect and how best to take care of yourself during your pregnancy, her reassuring words that promise you’ll make a great mother are anything but.

As soon as the doctor leaves the room you break, tears cascading down your cheeks as your chest heaves. Atsuhiro pulls you into his embrace, letting you fall apart in his arms as you come to terms with the news. “I’m not ready to be a mom, I can’t do it on my own,” you cry, hands clenching onto his shirt. “I know my love, I know, but you’ll never be alone as long as you have me. I’m here for you. I’ll always be here for you,” he assures you, pulling you in even closer.

As you continue to cry into his chest, murmuring hiccuping thank you’s between heaving sobs, Atsuhiro can’t help but smile to himself.

He’ll have to remember to thank Dr. Garaki for the fake birth control pills later.

General Taglist: @ahtsuwu @oikawaandkuroostan @larkspyrr @oliviasslut @black-rose-29

#hopeless.thirst #hopeless.dark #mr compress #mr compress smut #bnha mr compress #mr compress x reader #atsuhiro sako #atsuhiro sako x fem!reader #mr compress x fem!reader #atsuhiro sako x reader #pregnancy tw #vomit tw #baby trapping tw #hhrequests

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levi-my-beloved · 3 years

Text

Birds of a Feather

Chapter 2

Pairings: Canon!Levi x F!Reader

Warnings: Violence, swearing, descriptions of sexual acts

Word count: 5.9K

Summary: You were the most notorious criminal in the Underground City. With your organisation of highly skilled professionals, only one man could take you down. He also happened to be Humanity’s Strongest… and your ex.

A/N: big ol’ oof i’m back again with more BoaF shenanigans. i’m having way too much fun with this, and i know i said chapters would be released every two weeks but i actually got way too excited not to post these sooner. haven’t had any issues with accidentally deleting this post yet, but i wouldn’t put it above myself. anyway, here’s chapter two of “Birds of a Feather”

𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔

You hated surprises. In all shapes and forms. You liked to be in control of the situation, able to predict every move your victims would make. The job was going smoothly, all the steps falling into place. Infiltrating the nearest MP warehouse was easy enough. Stealing medicine, ointments and food was child’s play. You wondered how any of them became members of the MP in the first place, considering how incompetent they were. Only a few throats had to be slit on the way, one of your knives now dripping in their blood. Running it through the crease of your elbow, the crimson came off on your leather suit. Various straps and holsters held knives and blades of all sorts, some were more intricately designed than others.

Crouched low behind a large, wooden crate, you remove one of the smaller daggers from your boot, now clutching it in your left hand. They seemed to have upped their security, judging by the increase of soldiers walking around the place, each with their own rifle on their backs. Shit, they were really getting fed up with you. A small, satisfied smirk sliced across your shrouded face. Even with upped security, this was easy as piss.

That was until a commotion above you had you stopping in your tracks. A strange zipping sound followed by what you could only assume was the releasing of gas filled the air, followed by shouts, some familiar, most unfamiliar. Shit, how the fuck did they know you were here?

It wasn’t long before you were scampering onto crates of weaponry, back up to the broken window in which you’d entered. Swinging up from a beam, you landed deftly on the windowsill, peering out. Dread pooled in your gut at the scene.

These soldiers had skills you’d never seen. Swooping and swivelling with expert precision, it would have been mesmerising if not for the fact that they were chasing your Shadows. Your family.

“Shit… PHANTOM AND RENDEZVOUS,” you shouted, your voice carrying across the rooftops. It was a simple command. Disappear and meet up back at the hideout. But, in doing so, you’d given away your position, and it wasn’t long before you too were racing across the rooftops.

Taking out a set of throwing knives from your waist, you leapt from the tiles onto a balcony, spinning behind you and throwing two of the steel blades at those who were in your pursuit. Both knives hit home, sending two of the three soldiers spiralling into the streets below. Dead.

But one was still on your tail, dodging the two falling bodies effortlessly. Using your momentum, you crashed through the wooden window, rolling as you landed before continuing to flee.

Shit, this really wasn’t good. But one question still circled your mind. How the fuck did they know you were there? How could you possibly have been compromised? The job was airtight. Nobody outside your trusted group knew the positions you would be in and when.

The thought had thrown off your rhythm. Not concentrating on where your feet were falling, you’d missed the staircase right in front of you, only noticing when your foot met air instead of solid ground. Throwing your hands up to somewhat protect you, you were thankful for the corner as you slammed into the wall, your front jolting in protest. Shaking your head in an attempt to free yourself from the disorientation, you swiftly stood and wasted no time skipping the rest of the stairs, shouting a quick “Sorry!” to the couple who yelped in surprise as you vaulted over their kitchen table and burst through their door, back out into the streets. You had a few seconds reprieve before the hissing of gas met your ears, and once again took off running.

The street was irritatingly busy, you having to pick your way through the crowds whilst the zipping and hissing of ODM gear threatened to swoop down from above.

“Fuck fuck fuck.” You muttered, now shoving people aside. This was not ideal. Though the crowded street gave you some cover, it had slowed your momentum significantly.

Scanning around as you sprinted, you saw the perfect opportunity to broaden the gap between you and your pursuer. It was risky as shit, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

With a burst of speed fuelled purely by adrenaline, you raced towards the broken wagon. It acted almost as a ramp up to a swinging tavern sign. ‘The Broken Casket’. You’d never been and honestly had no interest in going, but you silently thanked whoever decided to place the sign at the perfect angle for you to use as a stepping stone. The wagon creaked as you sped up the planks of wood with cat-like agility. Using your arms for momentum, your foot connected with the swinging sign as you leapt across the street. However, in your planning, you’d failed to notice the sound of ODM gear had ceased behind you. It only occurred to you after another body slammed into yours mid jump, a low grunt interrupting your thought process as the two of you crashed into the dirt.

Surprised shouts and exclamations of the crowd brought you back to your senses as you expertly kicked the soldier from your body, rolling to avoid any sort of attack coming your way. This was bad. This was really bad. Drawing two more blades from your leather suit, you flipped them in your hands, ready to face off against your attacker, who had already begun his onslaught with his own steel.

The singing of metal rang in your ears, sparks flying with every collision.

Raising your arm beside your head, you blocked a heavy kick to your face, hissing ever so slightly at the contact. Shit, this guy was good. Ducking beneath a swipe, you took advantage of the fact you were wearing a masked helmet, bringing your head up viciously. You watched as he dodged backwards, his footwork borderline perfect before sweeping for your leg. Barely having enough time to register the attack, you leapt and twisted, bringing your own leg against the side of his head. He mimicked your block, your foot connecting with his forearm instead of his skull. You’d traded blows with hundreds of people before, each fight ending in just a few seconds. You knew you were good. Really good, in fact. But the man currently shrouded by a green cape was just as good. Dare you admit, maybe better than you.

No, you wouldn’t admit that, not when you had just landed a solid hit to his stomach with the hilt of your knife, not the end you’d wanted to land but at this point you were thankful for any successful blows. Rolling deftly to the right, you lunged once again whilst you thought he was still reeling from the impact.

He wasn’t.

He had lulled you into a false sense of security and let you believe the blow had impacted him more than it actually had. A knee cracked against your jaw, throwing you to the side. Sliding against the ground, you slammed into a wall, slumping as you recovered. Your hand came up to cradle the side of your face, wincing as you gently took hold of your chin, before jerking your jaw back into place. You couldn’t deny it. That hurt. A lot.

“You done?” raising your head from the dirt, you glare into the void beneath the hood, a voice you’d sworn you’d heard before, but you pushed down the confusion of familiarity. Slowly placing your blades back into their scabbards, you raised your hands as you stood, taking a step forward away from the wall behind you.

“Shit… Yeah. I’m done.” You admitted lowly, now standing before him, arms still raised in submission. That was until he came closer. You tried not to give away your plan as he cautiously walked towards you, keeping your eyes trained on the ground until you could see the tips of his boots in your vision. You couldn’t help the feral grin that sliced across your face.

Before he had time to question it, your foot connected with the underside of his chin.

It was a move Prongs had taught you a very long time ago. If ever you were in trouble, this was your best bet of escape.

The world turned upside down as you flipped backwards, watching in satisfaction as the man staggered backward. Now it was his turn to cradle his jaw.

“Never let your guard down, Scout.” You spat, before bolting away. That was close. Too close. You just hoped the rest of your Shadows had made it back.

꧁⎈꧂

What. The FUCK. Just happened? He had never seen someone with those kinds of skills before. It would have been impressive if it wasn’t a life or death situation. Levi stood there in the middle of the street, slouched ever so slightly, eyes wide with shock.

What the fuck just happened?

His hand still cradled his chin painfully. How the fuck was he just bested? He wasn’t even thinking clearly throughout that entire chase. All that was running through his head was how the fuck this guy was able to pull of moves like that. He’d seen some daring examples of parkour in his time but leaping over an entire street? Swinging from overhead bridges? The leader of The Nest was on a whole other level. He thought back to their entire ordeal. He must have been taught by someone. There was no way he couldn’t have been.

For some reason, that voice played in his head on repeat. A teasing carousel. He wouldn’t dare assume, but it sparked something in his mind. Something he wouldn’t dwell on now, but if they managed to catch this Raven, then maybe he could figure out just where the hell he’d heard that voice. Sure it was a little muffled and distorted by the mask, but it still bothered him.

Straightening himself, he pulled the hood of his cloak lower against his face. He told Erwin this was ridiculous. He told him this was a fruitless expedition. He was getting a little sick of people not listening to him for various reasons. He suspected it was because of his background.

Levi had done half of the job he was tasked with. Keeping the leader away from the rest of the group for as long as he could. Whilst he wasn’t able to detain him, this should be enough to please the Commander. As if remembering where he was, his skin began to crawl. The filth all around him almost felt suffocating.

“Shit…” he muttered, running his hand through his dark locks, sweat making them stick to his forehead. Looking back to where he’d watched the criminal race away, he pulled the triggers on his ODM gear, the gears shooting into the brick and wood of the upper streets before engaging his gas to meet up with Erwin and Hange. If everything went to plan, they would have the leader of The Nest already detained by the time he got there.

Levi couldn’t deny this operation had been a shitshow. They had severely underestimated the skill of these Shadows. Comrades falling left and right in their pursuit.

It was strange, being back. Dragging up memories he’d tried so hard to bury. His past suddenly creeping back up behind him. Gritting his teeth, he decided to concentrate on where he was going rather on the tendrils of discomfort seeping into his mind. He would face those demons later, when he wasn’t surrounded by death and filth.

Now he thought about it, facing the underground city and facing titans were similar in many ways. Both were terrifying thoughts to most. Both seemed to be caked in dirt and grime. And both seemed to result in the inevitable high death toll. It was frustrating to no end, but it wasn’t a surprise. Everything seemed to result in death. The only constant in this cruel world. It followed him like a curse.

His thoughts twisted back to you. Wondering if you were down here, somewhere. You were always so mysterious. Even when the two of you were together you’d disappear for days on end, only leaving a cryptic message behind. You’d never told him where you went, and he’d never pried. The wind in his ears took the form of your bubbling laughter, images of you clutching your abdomen after he’d told some sorry excuse of a joke.

Shit, he needed to get out of here. The longer he stayed, the further his thoughts strayed back to you.

꧁⎈꧂

You had never run so fast in your life. Wanting to meet up with your Shadows as soon as possible, hoping they would all be there safe. It was a fool’s hope, you knew that, but it was the only hope you had left, unable to shake the unease. Had you all been compromised, or just you and your Shadows? Was the location of The Nest safe? Was Scarlett safe?

You had come to the conclusion you must have been betrayed. There was no other explanation. It seemed impossible, one of your trusted betraying you all to the MPs, but how else would they have known you would have been at the warehouse? How else would they have known to call in the Scouts? They knew MPs alone couldn’t take on you and your Shadows, so they asked for help from a more skilled regiment. That was the only conclusion you could come to as you arrived at the rendezvous point.

Only to be greeted by an eerie silence. Not a soul to be seen.

This was wrong. Everything about this felt wrong. They should be here by now. Unless…

Unless they were at the backup site...

“NOW!”

A woman’s voice had your head jerking up to see you were surrounded. You watched the Scout pull some sort of trigger and as you did, time itself seemed to slow down. A faint click to your left alerted you to whatever trap they may have set. Leaping into a forward roll, you felt a rush of air behind your head as you dodged. Your heart pumping faster than ever as you look behind you, seeing the weighted net that had missed you by less than an inch.

Returning your gaze to the rooftops, you watched as several soldiers zipped onto the ground around you. The hidden square you’d chosen as your first meetup point now riddled with green capes, rifles and blades pointed in your direction.

You were trapped.

“What the fuck do you want?” your voice sounded a lot more confident than you felt. Coming out as a threatening demand rather than a timid question. (E/C) eyes widened behind your mask as a tall, blonde haired man pulled down the hood of his dark green cape. You knew that face, you’d seen it in the papers. The Commander of the Scouts had come to pay you a visit.

How thoughtful.

“The question still stands, Erwin Smith. What the fuck do you want?” you stood a little taller, though he still towered over you. Subtly, your hand went to one of your blades on your belt. If he got close enough, you could sink it into his throat. Throwing the Scouts around you into disarray was probably the only way to escape this, though those chances seemed incredibly slim.

Erwin raised a thick eyebrow to you.

“I’m surprised you’re familiar with my name, considering your… living conditions,” though he seemed to choose his words carefully, they still fanned the flames of hatred in your gut. His perceptive eyes glanced towards your hand nearing a wicked dagger on your belt. “I’d strongly advise you against that,” he warned, his voice low as he nodded his head to something behind you. Swiftly, you turned, and immediately regretted everything. Horror and guilt pierced your heart as you beheld Una as she was dragged forwards, a blade positioned near her throat. “Her life is in your hands, Raven. Co-operate, and we’ll let her go. Fail to do so…” the blade pressed into her throat a little, a small trickle of crimson staining the pale flesh of her neck.

“R-Raven, I'm so sorry,” she rasped, finding difficulty in speaking with the steel against her jugular.

“Shh, shh Una, don’t speak. You’re okay, yeah? You’re fine, you’re going to get out of this, okay? You’ll be alright,” you tried to reassure her as much as you could, but you knew she was scared. You could tell by the way her hands shook by her sides, her eyes squeezed shut. Fuck, this had not gone to plan.

Turning back to Erwin, your voice lowered to a snarl.

“Alright. What do you want? I won’t ask again,” the arrival of another soldier briefly held your attention, faintly acknowledging him as the one you fought earlier. Your jaw tensed as he landed next to the Commander, his face still shrouded in shadow by his hood. You felt a sick satisfaction in knowing that the inevitable bruise blossoming under his chin was from your fight earlier. But he didn’t seem bothered by it.

Annoyingly.

“I’m sure you’ve guessed what we want by now, but I’ll tell you anyway. We want to take you with us, back to the surface, where you will atone for your crimes. In return, we will release this girl and allow the rest of your gang to go free,” it was an incredibly good deal for you, the only issue being…

You die.

The image of your wife danced behind your eyes as you closed them. She was right. You’d been captured.

But a strange calm settled over you. Maybe you could see him again. You’d finally be reunited and free of this world’s filth.

“Alright,” there was almost no hesitation to your answer. Something that caused Una to cry out.

“NO! Raven you can’t! They’ll kill you! Get the hell out of here, I'm not this important!” she attempted to bargain with you, only resulting in that blade pressed closer to her throat.

“DON’T!” you shouted, your voice now breaking ever so slightly. “Please… let her go.” slowly, your hands came up to your masked helmet. Removing it, you allowed the reveal to settle over the soldiers around you.

The leader of The Nest was a woman.

The shock was always something you revelled in. Of course, under normal circumstances, a venomous smile would crawl across your face.

But not this time.

Levi had completely frozen. Eyes wide, mouth parted in shock. His heart was a sick amalgamation of sheer joy and utter terror. Though your face had changed slightly with age, he’d recognise those eyes anywhere. They were harsher than before. Colder. No longer the eyes of a softer, young girl, but those of a savage, hardened killer. But it was you. You were here, in front of him. You were alive.

And he’d knee'd you in the face.

“RAVEN DON’T.” Una knew it was already too late. Your face had been revealed. There was no turning back now. Tossing your helmet to the side, you turned back to face the trio now in front of you. The woman who had pulled the trigger on whatever trap they’d set was now staring at you almost in awe. Erwin’s expression too seemed surprised, but it was the expression of the shorter man next to him that caught your attention. He seemed frozen solid, unmoving. You tried to catch a glimpse of his face beneath his hood, but that only provoked him to shadow it further.

“Let her go. Let them all go,” your voice had dropped significantly, though your eyes still held that steely determination. Staring up at Erwin, you watched as he nodded his head for Una to be released. Raising your hands to show you had nothing up your sleeves, you slowly walked over to her form sprawled out on the floor, head refusing to rise and look at you.

“Raven… I—“

“It’s alright, Una. It’s alright,” you cooed, gently lifting her chin to look at you, her hood still hanging low across her face, her features stayed hidden throughout everything. “This wasn’t your fault. None of this, was your fault, okay? We were betrayed, and I'm pretty sure that wasn’t you,” you chuckled gently, trying to lessen the tension.

Still, you could see the slivers of silver lining her eyes in the low light, tears of guilt welling up. “Hey, listen to me. You’re going to be okay. You’re all going to be okay. We prepared for this, didn’t we? We knew this might happen someday,” your voice was soft as you spoke to her, as if you were simply trying to comfort a child after a nightmare.

Helping her to her feet, you reached for your mask, lifting it from the floor and placing it in her hands. Her breath hitched in her throat as her eyes widened.

Una knew the significance of this.

“Give it to Prongs. Tell him I’m sorry it wasn’t quite the ceremony we would have wanted. Tell him to look after them for me. Look after her, for me,” taking a step back, you fisted your hands to stop yourself from tearing up, eyes trained on the ground. “I’m so sorry,” you whisper, before raising your head. “Now go. Get the fuck out of here.” your commanding tone returned, giving your last order as the leader of The Nest.

Levi’s heart clenched at the exchange unfolding before him. Though your appearance may have changed, you were still as soft as ever. He’d tilted his head down at your gaze, fearful of your reaction when you’d figure out who he was. How this would look. Him, in all his ‘Humanity’s Strongest Soldier’ glory, and you, the Underground’s most dangerous criminal. He wouldn’t be able to stand the flash of betrayal he knew he’d see in those familiar eyes.

Unable to stop your heart shattering as Una turned and ran, you took a breath. Raising your hands once again, you allowed soldiers to pull each arm out by your side as they began searching your body for weapons. You always made a habit of bringing a ridiculous amount of knives and blades with you on every job. And this was no different.

“That was honourable of you, Raven,” Erwin was the first to speak, though the title now made you scoff. You wouldn’t tell them your name, not yet anyway.

One of the soldiers patting you down was forced to gesture to a friend, her own hands now full of your various weaponry. And that was only your belt. You flicked your eyes to the three in front of you. The woman looked like she was going to burst any second.

“THAT WAS INCREDIBLE! Sorry, I couldn’t contain myself any longer. The way you dodged that trap was unlike anything I’ve ever seen! It was AMAZING! Who taught you to do that? The name’s Hange, by the way. Hange Zoë, science and titan enthusiast. I’d shake your hand but you seem to be a little tied up at the moment!”

The sudden explosion of excitement caught you off guard, your expression turning to one of sheer incredulous confusion, before realising you’d probably have to listen to her babbling throughout your entire journey back.

“I didn’t know you were going to torture me. Just kill me now,” you huffed sarcastically, expression darkening as soldiers roughly pulled your arms behind your back, clasping them in manacles after making sure all weapons were removed from your legs, your expression unchanging.

But that didn’t seem to deter the scientist. If anything, she found your attitude amusing.

“Wow! Levi, she’s just like you! Is everyone from the Underground so unapproachable?” she asked cheerily as the two soldiers holding your arms began to steer you away. But you refused to move. Levi too seemed stuck to the spot.

Everything went still, and it was as if nothing else existed but the two of you.

Ever so slowly, Levi pulled down his hood, revealing those dark bangs you remembered so clearly. Silvery blue eyes met (E/C) ones. It wasn’t quite the reunion either of you were expecting, but you were both here. Alive

“Levi…” you whispered after refinding your voice, torn between wanting to run to him and running away from him. Fear clung to your heart, knowing how much he would hate you for what you’d become.

Levi schooled his expression back to neutrality as Hange looked between the two of you.

“Do you two… know each other?!?!” Hange’s beam of excitement caused him to cringe internally. Looking you up and down, the raven haired man raised a thin eyebrow in what looked like disgust.

“Tch, no.”

Well, that wasn’t what you were expecting. You blinked in surprise, eyes narrowing to your previous lover, trying to mask your hurt. Maybe he didn’t remember you? But with the look of recognition in his stormy eyes, you swiftly ruled out that possibility. What you’d feared all these years had finally come to fruition. You’d found him again.

And he despised you.

Levi turned on his heel, stalking away from you as the two MPs tugged on your arm, finally prompting you to move. He didn’t think his heart could shatter much more. After losing his mother, his family, his home.

You.

He didn’t think he had the ability to break any further. But life clearly thrilled in proving him wrong.

꧁⎈꧂

The walk back to the surface was agonising. Both of you stealing glances at one another at every opportunity. His, masked with indifferent contempt, your’s overflowing with betrayal and rage.

How could he stand there and say the two of you didn’t know each other? As if you hadn’t been in a relationship for years. As if he didn’t know every little thing about you. As if you hadn’t shared his bed, moaning in ecstasy as he pried you thighs open, burying his tongue, his fingers or his length between your aching folds. As if you hadn’t heard every whimper and groan he could make, coercing them from his throat as you swirl your tongue around the head of his cock. As if you hadn’t been the one to finally hear those three words you never thought he could say. As if they weren’t directed at you.

Great, now you were angry and aroused.

Dragging your eyes away from him, you focussed on the long street ahead of you, now failing to notice the way his expression shifted slightly as he looked in your direction.

As you walked, more and more civilians stepped out of their homes to watch, many of them nodding their heads in respect, or removing their hats in mourning. You return their gestures, refusing to let your head bow as you dip your chin in recognition.

Levi could do nothing but observe the strange reactions from the swiftly gathering crowds. Some of them even shout to you.

“We owe you, Raven!”

“Give those fuckers hell!”

“Don’t let them take you lying down!”

You chuckled in response, both a sound and expression he’d missed so dearly. It made those long dead butterflies flutter once again in his stomach.

Even more so when a little kid approached you.

“Miss Raven… Why are there soldiers everywhere?”

Your eyes softened to the grubby little girl, crouching down where you stood, much to your escort’s dismay.

“They’re here to make sure little squirts like you listen to your mommy and daddy and go to bed on time,” the kid squealed in delight in your words. You lamented your hands not being free, the temptation to tickle the little tyke almost overwhelming, making your wrists squirm in their restraints.

“Hey, get the fuck out of here, stupid kid,” the soldier to your left delivered a harsh kick to the child’s side, sending her sprawling to the floor and out of your way. You don’t think anything could have brought you more rage. Not even your ex’s indifference to your existence.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” standing swiftly to your feet, you glowered dangerously into the MPs surprised eyes, now struggling in his grip as the kid started to cry. “She’s just a kid, you foul mouthed, pig eyed, vile piece of shit,” if it wasn’t for your circumstances and situation, Levi would have laughed at your insults. Clearly you’d broadened your vocabulary since the last time he’d seen you.

It was only when you’d managed to deliver a harsh, bone cracking kick to the soldier’s kneecap did Levi decide he should probably intervene, as much as he’d originally intended to stay away from you.

Something he subconsciously didn’t want to do.

“Oi, move along. I’ll deal with her, fucking degenerates,” his sharp voice cut through the commotion, causing the soldiers to stop in their tracks and whirl around.

“Captain Levi, sir! We were just—”

“I don’t care. Go.” he ordered. If they were Scouts, they wouldn’t have dared to hesitate, but since they weren’t a part of his regiment, it took them a moment for the order to register in their small minds, before they scurried away.

As soon as your arms were free of their grip, you immediately rushed to the little girl’s side, cooing gentle reassurance.

“Hey, come on now, you gotta be brave, yeah? You can’t cry every time a pig like that gets the better of you. Hell, then I’d never stop crying,” your little joke stopped the kid’s sobbing. Clearly your reputation extended even to the children of the Underground. “Where’re your parents, kid? Where’s your mom?” you asked, ignoring the obvious gaze burning a hole in the back of your head.

The little girl sniffled, pointing back to the head of a worried looking young woman, searching frantically for her little girl. A soft smile graced your lips, before you gently gestured for the girl to run along back to her mother, that smile growing as you watched her scamper off and giggle slightly as she was reprimanded in a giant bear hug.

“You haven’t changed, have you?” Levi’s cold voice brought you back to reality, prompting you to rise back up to your feet.

“Thought you didn’t know me,” there was none of that friendly familiarity he’d seen in your eyes earlier. There was only cold, ruthless ice. He shivered despite himself.

Softening his own gaze as you turned your head to him, he could recognise that spark of hatred. He’d seen it so many times when you faced down some sort of oaf who’d decided you were easy pickings back when the two of you were teenagers. He suddenly felt a pang of pity for all those who had suffered under this glare.

It was indeed terrifying.

“(Y/N)—”

“Don’t fucking call me that. You don’t get to call me that,” you didn’t try to tame the loathing fury in your tone. You didn’t pretend you didn’t revel in that confused look in his eye. Good, let him be confused. Though you didn’t know why. He should know well enough why you were furious.

“Okay…” —Levi took a breath— “Okay. Raven, then. That’s your alias, isn’t it. Raven?” He didn’t know why he was asking you such an obvious question, but he couldn’t help it. He had a craving just to hear your voice. The same voice that had haunted him for years, the same voice that had awoken him from the few hours he would be able to sleep.

Still, where his tone had lowered, yours refused to. How dare he show up after all these years and then claim he didn’t even know you.

“Obviously,” you spat, pure venom lacing your tone.

“So this is where you went. This is what you did. You were a part of The Nest this entire time and you didn’t think to tell me?” it was his turn to spit, clearly whatever had caused his gaze to soften previously had been replaced by something you couldn’t quite place. You weren’t as good at reading him as you used to be. His face had changed with time, and he’d clearly learned to school his expression much better than he used to.

“So what if it was? You don’t know me, remember?” you couldn’t help but use his words against him, wanting to drive home how much it had fucking hurt. Your eyes flickered to the now blackened bruise on the underside of his stupidly chiseled jaw. Something ugly twisted in your gut, whether it was satisfaction or guilt, you couldn’t decipher.

As if in retaliation, his own eyes glanced at the almost matching mark on your chin, the same mixture of emotions flashing briefly in his eyes before he took hold of your arm. It wasn’t as rough as you would have expected, but if anything, that simply annoyed you more.

“Tch, just move already,” the two of you had started to draw more attention to your conversation than either of you would have liked. So reluctantly, you placed on foot in front of the other and started walking again, returning back to acknowledging and recognising the respect those gathered were giving you. You remembered everyone you’d helped. Bringing them food, water, medical supplies.

“RAVEN!!” A loud shout of your alias had your head whirling to the right, searching for the owner of the voice. “RAVEN?!?” a small, older woman pushed her way through the people, almost falling to your feet. Tears threatened to spill from her eyes as she looked up at you.

You recognised her as one of your regulars. Her son had fallen ill months ago, and needed a medicine the MPs refused to hand out if not for a hefty sum of money. You’d offered your services to her after seeing her begging in the street, the sight hauntingly familiar to you. “I… I wanted to thank you. For everything you’ve done for me. For my son. He— I fear he wouldn’t be alive today without your help,” the woman hiccuped through her gratitude, drying her eyes with a worn, stained handkerchief. Your expression shifted to one of gentle indifference. You wouldn’t make the same mistake of outwardly showing your caring side like you did with the little girl.

“Make sure he stays rested,” was all you said, before continuing on without the prompting of Levi behind you, who now stood still in mild shock. Watching as many placed a hand on your shoulder as you walked, your head still held high.

“I don’t know what you men plan on doing with her, but she’s only ever helped us. She’s a good person,” the older woman’s eyes only spoke the truth as she looked to Levi, who only glanced back at you in response, watching as you climbed the stairs.

“I know. She always was.”

You stopped and turned back before you left for good, eyes lingering down the crowded street, a thousand faces peering up at you. Hats in hands, hands folded over one another in mourning. You recognized that with your leaving, a lot of people will go hungry. Many will die of diseases or viruses without the medicine you could steal and distribute. You knew Prongs was good, but he didn’t quite command that same kind of respect you did.

With a final nod of your head towards the crowd’s respect, you turned and left the Underground, leaving your past along with it.

#levi aot #levi attack on titan #captain levi #snk levi #levi x reader #levi ackerman x you #levi x you #levi ackerman x reader #aot x y/n #aot x reader #aot x you #snk fanfiction #snk #levi smut #levi ackerman smut

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sturchling · 3 years

Note

Hey, can you do a MLB oneshot

So this will contain Marinette sugar and alya and Lila and class sugar and Adrien salt/bashing And can this focus on Luka/Nath

So basically Luka and Nathaniel had been dating now and this starts to make Adrien jealous since he had a crush on Luka and he got very angry when he saw Nath and Luka kiss, he was very angry and later on he had a plan, after school he was gonna sneak on Marc and then push him hard down the stairs and then he runs away by the way Marinette saw the whole thing and she recorded the whole thing , then Nath was sent to the hospital and he stayed there for two weeks and his body was hurt and Nath was crying while Luka was comforting him, Meanwhile Marinette confronted Adrien and recorded the whole confrontation secretly on her phone and after Adrien punched marinette and then threatened her later on Marinette makes a Group chat and adds his friends except Adrien and she tells everyone what Adrien did and show proof, so then they showed the proof to Miss Bustier and the principal and Adrien got suspended for a month for doing a cruel thing and was grounded until for a month, and later on Adrien apologies to Luka and Marc but then they said that it would take a week for them to forgive and then they left leaving Adrien to cry while feeling guilt in himself

Sorry about the wait, here you go. Hope you like it.

Luka and Nathaniel were the talk of Mrs. Bustier's class. Everyone thought the couple were adorable together. Everyone, that is, except for Adrien. Adrien was filled with jealousy. He had liked Luka for a long time now, ever since he invited Adrien to join the band. Adrien tried flirting, but Luka never seemed to notice or care. But he always stared at Nathaniel. Adrien didn't get it. He was handsome, famous, and was always nice to Luka, so why didn't Luka like him back? It didn't make any sense. Adrien watched as Luka and Nathaniel went on cute dates, got Andre's ice cream together, and grew closer and closer. As he watched, the jealousy and anger consumed him, until he took drastic measures.

One day after school, Adrien had stayed late for fencing. After the fencing lesson ended, and everyone had left, he went upstairs to get something he forgot in the classroom, and when he came back out he saw Nathaniel leaving the art room and approaching the stairs. Adrien's rage and jealousy consumed him and he snuck up behind Nathaniel. Just as Nathaniel approached the first step on the stairs, Adrien shoved him hard. Nathaniel went flying, falling down the stairs and hitting every step on the way down. Adrien ran from the top of the stairs before he was spotted by anyone. Some of the staff who were still in the building heard the crash and came out of their rooms to see Nathaniel lying in a heap on the floor and no one else around. They rushed to Nathaniel, who clearly had several broken bones, and sent him straight to the hospital. Adrien watched from an empty classroom, feeling satisfied in getting revenge on Nathaniel for taking Luka from him. And he hadn't been caught. No one had seen him, not even Nathaniel. Or so Adrien thought.

What Adrien hadn't seen was Marinette standing downstairs, on the other side of the courtyard, with a perfect view of what happened. She had noticed how Adrien had been glaring at Nathaniel lately. Adrien looked like he wanted to kill Nathaniel most days, and so when Marinette saw him approaching Nathaniel from behind, she grabbed her phone and started to record, just in case. And it was a good thing she did too, because she caught Adrien pushing Nathaniel down the stairs on video. No one else saw what had happened, and Marinette was the only one with any proof. She wouldn't let Adrien get away with this.

Nathaniel ended up breaking one of his legs and one of his arms. He also had a concussion and a fractured rib from the fall. Everything hurt and all he felt like doing was cry. Luka was there every step of the way, and stayed with Nathaniel in the hospital while he recovered. Luka would play the guitar, play games, help him come up with new ideas for his comic book, anything to distract Nathaniel from the pain. Nathaniel would spend two weeks in the hospital before he was released, and the entire time he was there, he was doted on by Luka.

Marinette waited a day after what happened, to see if maybe Adrien would come to his senses and confess to what happened. But he didn't. The school didn't have any proof that Nathaniel was pushed so they just called it an accident. And Adrien was fine with letting them. So, Marinette went to confront him after school one day. She waited until he was done with fencing and they could be alone. She wanted to confront him, but also try to get him to come clean, not wanting to give up hope on her friend and think the worst of him. Before she went into the locker room, she started recording video on her phone, and made sure to hold it so it wouldn't look like she was recording. Then she opened the door and approached Adrien.

"Adrien, we need to talk. I saw what you did to Nathaniel." Adrien froze for a second, before giving Marinette a dazzling smile. "What are you talking about? I didn't do anything to him?" Marinette shook her head, "Yes, you did. I saw you push him down the stairs. You walked behind him and shoved him down the stairs. And I got the whole thing on video. Why did you do it Adrien? You need to come clean and tell Mr. Damocles what happened. If you don't I will." Adrien face darkened considerably. Gone was the kind boy she knew, and he was now giving her a very threatening look. Before Marinette knew what hit her, Adrien punched her in the face, knocking her to the floor. "You want to know why? He got in my way. He took away any chance I had with Luka, so I hurt him like he hurt me. And if you get in my way, I will do the same thing to you. Don't you dare tell anyone about what happened, or this either!"

Adrien stormed out of the locker room, leaving Marinette on the floor. He didn't know that she had recorded the whole conversation. Marinette, stunned by what had just happened, sat on the floor for a moment. When she collected herself, she went straight home where she knew she was safe. She then set up a group chat with the whole class, except for Adrien, and made sure to include Luka as well. She told them everything about what she saw and what had just happened. She also sent them the two videos as proof. The group chat was filled with angry messages when they saw everything Adrien had done. Pushing Nathaniel down the stairs, punching Marinette, and threatening her too. The class and Luka especially were ready to go to the Agreste Mansion and beat some sense into Adrien. But Marinette talked them out of committing a felony and instead they planned to go to the school.

They all got there early and asked to speak to Mrs. Bustier and Mr. Damocles in Mr. Damocles office. They showed them both the videos and told them everything. They were horrified to see what Adrien had said and done. As soon as Adrien arrived at school, he was pulled into Mr. Damocles office and was shown the evidence. Mr. Agreste was also present through a video call and saw the two videos taken of his son. Adrien was suspended for a month, the maximum amount of time Mr. Damocles could suspend him with out approval from the school board. When he was back at the mansion, he was informed that he was grounded for that same amount of time, at the least.

After his suspension was lifted, Adrien was still grounded, his father having decided to extend his punishment a while longer. He was only allowed to go to school and come home, nothing else. Even his fencing lessons were conducted at home. Adrien had began feeling guilty for what he had done, so one day, he hung back after school for just a minute. Nathaniel was never alone anymore, especially if Adrien was around. Luka would always come walk him home after school now. So when they heard someone call Nathaniel's name and they turned, seeing Adrien walk up to them after school, Luka looked ready to hit him, not that Adrien would blame him. Adrien apologized for what he did, and made it very clear that he was truly sorry for what he had done. "Can you ever forgive me Nathaniel?" Nathaniel just stared for a moment, before turning his back on Adrien, facing the exit again. "I'm not sure Adrien. And if I do, it will take a long time. A simple apology doesn't fix this. I am not sure I will ever fully forgive you for this." With that said, Luka and Nathaniel walked out of the school, leaving Adrien crying in the courtyard, wondering how he could have been such a monster.

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shihalyfie · 3 years

Text

About the Adventure: reboot, the likely reason why it exists, the question of target demographic, and whether I would recommend it or not

I think this reboot has been kind of a strange outlier in terms of Digimon anime in general, in terms of...well, just about everything. I also feel like everything surrounding it has kind of been giving us mixed signals as to what the intent and purpose behind the anime is -- well, besides “cashing in on the Adventure brand”, but looking at it more closely, that might be a bit of an oversimplification.

I’m writing this post because, having seen the entire series to the end for myself and thinking very hard about it and what it was trying to do, I decided to put down my thoughts. This is not meant to be a review of what I think was good and bad, but rather, something that I hope will be helpful to those who might be on the fence about whether they want to watch it or not, or those who don’t want to watch/finish it but are curious about what happened, or those who are curious as to why this reboot even exists in the first place, or even maybe just those who did watch it but are interested in others’ thoughts about it. I'm personally convinced that -- especially in an ever-changing franchise like Digimon -- how much you like a given work is dependent on what your personal tastes are to the very end, and thus it’s helpful to understand what kind of expectations you should go in with if you want to watch something.

With all of this said and done, if you want to go in and best enjoy this series, I think it is best to consider this anime as a distinct Digimon series of its own. The relationship to Adventure is only surface-level, and by that I mean it’s very obvious it’s doing things its own thing deliberately without worrying too much about what prior series did. Of course, I think everyone will have varying feelings about using the Adventure branding for something that really isn't Adventure at all, but we are really talking about an in-name-only affair, and something that’s unabashedly doing whatever it wants. So in other words, if you’re going in expecting Adventure, or anything that really resembles Adventure, you’re setting yourself up for disappointment. But if you’re able to approach it like yet another distinct Digimon series, and the other aspects of it fit your fancy, you’ll probably be able to enjoy it much better. And, conversely, I think it’s also important to remember that this series seems to have a writing philosophy with a fundamentally different goal from most Digimon series, and since it’s understandable for most long-time Digimon fans to have their tastes built on those prior series, it’s fine and completely understandable that this reboot may not be your cup of tea, for reasons that probably don’t actually have much to do with whether it’s an Adventure reboot or not.

There are no spoilers in the following post. (Although I use some emphatic language for the duration for it, these are mostly just my personal thoughts and how I see the series and the overall situation.)

On what exact relationship to Adventure this series has, and why it’s an “Adventure reboot”

If you ask why they did an Adventure reboot, the easiest answer to come up with is “Adventure milking, because it’s profitable”, but that’s kind of an oversimplification of what the issue is. This is especially when you take into account a key fact that official has been very well aware of since as early as 2006: most kids are too young to have seen Adventure, and therefore have no reason to care about it.

That’s the thing: Adventure milking only works so well on today’s children, and Toei and Bandai know this. This is also the reason that the franchise started going through a bit of a “split” starting in around 2012 (after Xros Wars finished airing), when the video game branch started making more active attempts to appeal to the adults’ fanbase with Re:Digitize and Adventure PSP. (Although they were technically still “kids’ games”, they were very obviously aimed at the adults’ audience as a primary “target”.) The generation that grew up with Adventure and other classic Digimon anime was getting older and older, and targeting that audience would require tailoring products more specifically to them -- ultimately culminating in 2015 and the solidification of “very obviously primarily for adults” media in the form of both games (Cyber Sleuth and Next Order) and anime (tri.). Note that Appmon ended up getting its own 3DS game, but since it was targeted at kids, it seems to have been developed by a completely different pipeline/branch from the aforementioned adults’ games, so even that had a split.

So if we want to talk about full-on nostalgia pandering, that’s already being done in the adults’ branch. In fact, Appmon development specifically said that they felt free to not really care about the adults’ audience because that was tri.’s job. Of course, the hardcore Digimon adults’ fanbase is still keeping an eye on the kids’ shows, and it’s good to not upset them -- and, besides, even if we’re all suffering under the hell of capitalism, people who work in kids’ shows still tend to be very passionate about the content and messages they’re showing the kids, so they still put an effort into making good content that adults can enjoy too. But, nevertheless, adults are still the “periphery demographic”, and a kids’ show is not a success if the kids (who have not seen and do not care about Adventure) are not watching it or buying the toys. Appmon ended up being extremely well-received by the adults’ fanbase, but that all meant nothing since the kids didn’t get into it.

Most kids are not super incredibly discerning about so-called writing quality (it’s not like they don’t at least unconsciously know when something is good, but they’re much less likely to be bothered by little things adults are often bothered by), so there’s a certain degree you have to get their attention if you want things to catch on with them. Critical reception does matter a lot more when we talk about the adults’ audience, but for the kids, the more important part is how much you’ve managed to engage them and how much fun they’re having (especially in regards to the toyline). Moreover, there’s the problem of “momentum”; Digimon’s sister shows of PreCure, Kamen Rider, and Super Sentai have sometimes had really poorly performing shows (critically or financially), but have managed to recover it in successive years to avoid getting cancelled. Digimon never managed to get to that point, with sales nearly dropping to half with Tamers and again with Frontier. So in essence, Savers, Xros Wars, and Appmon were all attempts at figuring out what was needed to just get that “kickstart” again -- but things just never lined up for it to work.

So if kids don’t really care about Adventure, why would they do Adventure nostalgia pandering? The answer is one that official has actually openly stated multiple times: they want to have parents watch it together with their children. Both Seki and Kinoshita said this in regards to watching the reaction to Kizuna, and it was also stated outright as a goal for the reboot, but, believe it or not, there’s reports of this having been stated back as early as Savers (followed by an admission that maybe 2006 was a little too early for people who grew up with Adventure to be old enough to have their own kids). So the little nostalgia references in Savers, Xros Wars, and Appmon aren't really meant to magically turn the series into Adventure as much as they’re supposed to be flags waved at the parents to get them to pay attention, so that they can introduce their kids to Digimon and watch it together with them, until the kids eventually take an interest on their own and they don’t need to rely on that kind of standby as much. (I say “as much” because of course PreCure, Rider, and Sentai all are still very indulgent in their anniversary references, but they’re not nearly as reliant on it to the point of life-and-death.)

This is also why Kizuna’s existence and release date two months prior to the reboot is a huge factor in this. The reason tri. wouldn’t have done it is that it never actually reached a properly “mainstream” audience. It’s a huge reason I keep emphasizing the fact that tri. and Kizuna are two separate things with completely different production and release formats, because tri. being a limited OVA screening released in six parts over three years means that, although it was a moderate financial success that did better than the franchise’s other niche products, in the end, it didn’t actually reach the “extremely casual” audience very well. We, as the “hardcore Internet fanbase”, all know people who watched all six parts, and the difference between tri. and Kizuna’s release formats doesn’t hit us as hard because of international distribution circumstances, but even on our end, if you talk to your casual friends who barely remember anything about Digimon except what they saw on TV twenty years ago, you will almost never find anyone who got past Part 1, maybe 2 at most. (That’s before we even get into the part where a good chunk of them got turned off at the character design stage for being too different.) Sticking with a full six-part series over three years is a commitment, and if you’re not someone with a certain level of loyalty to the franchise, you aren’t as likely to put aside the time for it!

Kizuna, on the other hand, was a full-on theatrical movie with full marketing campaign that was aimed at that extremely casual mainstream audience, including a lot of people who hadn’t even heard of tri. (due to it being too niche) or hadn’t bothered to commit to watching something so long, and thus managed to “hype up” a lot of adults and get them in a Digimon mood. (Critical reception issues aside, this is also presumably a huge reason Kizuna isn’t all that reliant on tri.’s plot; Adventure and 02 both averaged at around 11% of the country watching it when it first aired, but the number of people who even saw tri. much less know what happened in it is significantly lower, so while you can appeal to a lot of people if you’re just targeting the 11%, you'll lock them out if you’re overly reliant on stuff a lot of them will have never seen in the first place.) We’re talking the kind of super-casual who sees a poster for Kizuna, goes “oh I remember Digimon!”, casually buys a ticket for the movie, likes it because it has characters they remember and the story is feelsy, and then two months later an anime that looks like the Digimon they recognize is on Fuji TV, resulting in them convincing their kid to watch it together with them because they’re in a Digimon mood now, even though the actual contents of the anime are substantially different from the original.

So, looking back at the reboot:

There’s a huge, huge, huge implication that the choice to use Adventure branding was at least partially to get Fuji TV to let them have their old timeslot back. Neither Xros Wars nor Appmon were able to be on that old timeslot, presumably because Fuji TV had serious doubts about their profitability (perhaps after seeing Savers not do very well). This isn’t something that hits as hard for us outside Japan who don’t have to feel the impact of this anyway, but it’s kind of a problem if kids don’t even get the opportunity to watch the show in the first place. While there’s been a general trend of moving to video-on-demand to the point TV ratings don’t really have as much impact as they used to, I mean...it sure beats 6:30 in the morning, goodness. (Note that a big reason PreCure, Rider, and Sentai are able to enjoy the comfortable positions they’re in is that they have a very luxurious 8:30-10 AM Sunday block on TV Asahi dedicated to them.)

Since we’re talking about “the casual mainstream”, this means that this kind of ploy only works with something where a casual person passing by can see names and faces and take an interest. This is why it has to be Adventure, not 02 or Tamers or whatnot; 02 may have had roughly similar TV ratings to Adventure and fairly close sales figures back in 2000, but the actual pop culture notability disparity in this day and age is humongous (think about the difference in pop culture awareness between Butter-Fly and Target). 02, Tamers, and all can do enough to carry “adults’ fandom” products and merch sales at DigiFes, and the adults’ branch of the franchise in general, but appealing to the average adult buying toys for the kids is a huge difference, and a big reason that, even if they’re clearly starting to acknowledge more of the non-Adventure series these days, it’s still hard to believe they’re going to go as far as rebooting anything past Adventure -- or, more accurately, hard to believe they’ll be able to get the same impact using names and faces alone.

This advertising with the Adventure brand goes beyond just the anime -- we’re talking about the toyline that has the involved character faces plastered on them, plus all of the ventures surrounding them that Bandai pretty obviously carefully timed to coincide with this. One particularly big factor is the card game, which is doing really, really well right now, to the point it’s even started gaining an audience among people who weren’t originally Digimon fans. Part of it is because the game’s design is actually very good and newcomer-friendly, but also...nearly every set since the beginning came with reboot-themed Tamer Cards, which means that, yes, those cards with the Adventure names and faces were helping lure people into taking an interest in the game. Right now, the game is doing so well and has gained such a good reputation that it probably doesn’t need that crutch anymore to keep going as long as the game remains well-maintained, but I have no doubt the initial “Adventure” branding was what helped it take off, and its success is most likely a huge pillar sustaining the franchise at the current moment.

Speaking of merch and toys, if you look closely, you might notice that Bandai decided to go much, much more aggressively into the toy market with this venture than they ever did with Savers, Xros Wars, or Appmon (Appmon was probably the most aggressive attempt out of said three). They put out a lot more merch and did a lot more collaborative events to engage the parents and children, and, presumably, the reason they were able to do this was because they were able to push into those outlets with the confidence the Adventure brand would let them be accepted (much like with Fuji TV). Like with the card game, the important part was getting their “foot in the door” so that even if it stopped being Adventure after a fashion, they’d still have all of those merchandising outlets -- after all, one of the first hints we ever got of Ghost Game’s existence was a July product listing for its products replacing the reboot’s in a gachapon set, so we actually have evidence of certain product pipelines being opened by the reboot’s precedent. (The word 後番組 literally means “the TV program that comes after”, so it’s pretty obvious this was intended for Ghost Game; in other words, the reboot’s existence helped ensure there be a “reservation” for this kind of product to be made.)

I think one important thing to keep in mind is that Toei and Bandai have as much of a stake in avoiding rehashing for their kids’ franchises as we do. Even if you look at this from a purely capitalistic perspective, because of how fast the “turnover” is for the kids’ audience, sustaining a franchise for a long time off rehashing the same thing over and over is hard, and even moreso when it involves a twenty-year-old anime that said kids don’t even know or remember. Ask around about popular long-running Japanese kids’ franchises and you’ll notice they practically rely on being able to comfortably change things up every so often, like PreCure/Rider/Sentai shuffling every year, or Yu-Gi-Oh! having a rotation of different series and concepts, or the struggles that franchises that don’t do this have to deal with. And, after all, for all people are cynical about Toei continuing to milk Adventure or any of the other older series at every opportunity, as far as the kids’ branch of the franchise goes, this is only capable of lasting to a certain extent; if they tried keeping this up too long, even the adults and kids would get bored, and there is some point it’ll be easier to try and make products directly targeted at the kids’ audience instead of having to rely on the parents to ease them into it.

So it’s completely understandable that the moment they secured a proper audience with the reboot and finished up their first series with this, they decided to take the risk with Ghost Game right after. And considering all that’s happened, this is still a risk -- they’re changing up a lot (even if not as much as Appmon), and there’s a chance that the audience they’ve gathered is going to shoot down again because they’ve changed so much and they no longer have the Adventure branding as a “crutch” to use -- but they’re taking it anyway instead of going for something at least slightly more conventional.

Which means that, yes, there’s a possibility this will all explode in their face, because the Adventure branding is that huge of a card they’re about to lose. But at the very, very least, Ghost Game is coming in with the “momentum” and advantage that Savers, Xros Wars, and Appmon all didn’t have: a brand currently in the stage of recovery, all of the merchandising and collaborative pipelines the reboot and Kizuna opened up, a fairly good timeslot, and a premise somewhat more conventional than Xros Wars and Appmon (I’m saying this as someone who likes both: their marketing definitely did not do them many favors). There are still a lot of risks it’s playing here, and it’s possible it won’t be the end of more Adventure or reboot brand usage to try to keep that momentum up even as we go into Ghost Game, but it’s the first time in a long while we’ve had something to stand on.

Okay, so that’s out of the way. But the end result is that we now have 67 episodes of an Adventure “reboot” that actually doesn’t even resemble Adventure that much at all, which seems to have achieved its goal of flagging down attention so it can finally going back to trying new things. This series exists, we can’t do anything about the fact it exists, the period where its own financial performance actually mattered is coming to an end anyway, and we, as a fanbase of adults hanging out on the Internet keeping up with the franchise as a whole, have to figure out how each of us feels about this. So what of it?

About the contents of the reboot itself

One thing I feel hasn’t been brought up as a potential topic very much (or, at least, not as much as I feel like it probably should be) is that the reboot seems to be actively aimed at a younger target audience than the original Adventure. It hasn’t been stated outright, but we actually have quite a bit of evidence pointing towards this.

Let’s take a moment and discuss what it even means to have a different target audience. When you’re a kid, even one or two years’ difference is a big deal, and while things vary from kid to kid, generally speaking, it helps to have an idea of what your “overall goal” is when targeting a certain age group, since at some point you have to approximate the interests of some thousands of children. Traditionally, Digimon has been aimed at preteens (10-11 year olds); of course, many will testify to having seen the series at a younger age than that, but the "main” intended target demographic was in this arena. (Also, keep in mind that this is an average; a show aimed at 10-11 year olds could be said to be more broadly aimed at 7-13 year olds, whereas one aimed at 7-8 year olds would be more broadly aimed at something like 5-10 year olds.) Let’s talk a bit about what distinguishes children’s shows (especially Japanese kids’ shows) between this “preteen demographic” and things aimed at a much younger audience (which I’ll call “young child demographic”, something like the 7-8 year old arena):

With children who are sufficiently young, it’s much, much more difficult to ensure that a child of that age will be able to consistently watch TV at the same hour every week instead of being subject to more variable schedules, often set by their parents, meaning that it becomes much more difficult to have a series that relies on you having seen almost every episode to know what’s going on. For somewhat older kids, they’re more likely to be able to pick and pursue their own preferences (the usual “got up early every week for this show”). This means that shows targeted at a young child demographic will be more likely to be episodic, or at least not have a complex dramatic narrative that requires following the full story, whereas shows targeted at a preteen audience are more willing to have a dramatic narrative with higher complexity. This does not mean by any shake of the imagination that a narrative is incapable of having any kind of depth or nuance -- the reboot’s timeslot predecessor GeGeGe no Kitaro got glowing reviews all over the board for being an episodic story with tons of depth -- nor that characters can’t slowly develop over the course of the show. But it does raise the bar significantly, especially because it prevents you from making episodes that require you to know what happened in previous ones.

The thing is, the original Adventure and the older Digimon series in general didn’t have to worry about this, and, beyond the fact that their narratives very obviously were not episodic, we actually have concrete evidence of the disparity: Digimon has often been said to be a franchise for “the kids who graduated from (outgrew) a certain other monster series”. Obviously, they’re referring to Pokémon -- which does have the much younger target demographic. That’s why its anime is significantly more episodic and less overall plot-oriented, and Digimon wasn’t entirely meant to be a direct competitor to it; rather, it was hoping to pick up the preteens who’d enjoyed Pokémon at a younger age but were now looking for something more catered to them. This is also why, when Yo-kai Watch came into the game in 2014, that was considered such a huge direct competitor to Pokémon, because it was aiming for that exact same demographic, complete with episodic anime. When Yo-kai Watch moved to its Shadowside branch in 2017, it was specifically because they had concerns about losing audience and wanted to appeal to the kids who had been watching the original series, but since they were preteens now, they adopted a more dramatic and emotionally complex narrative that would appeal to that audience instead. So you can actually see the shift in attempted target demographic in real time.

Adventure through Frontier were aimed at 10-11 year olds, and here’s the interesting part: those series had the protagonists hover around the age of said target audience. We actually have it on record that Frontier had a direct attempt to keep most of the kids as fifth-graders for the sake of appealing to the audience, and so that it would be relatable to them. You can also see this policy of “matching the target audience’s age” in other series at the time; Digimon’s sister series Ojamajo Doremi (also produced by Seki) centered around eight-year-olds. Nor was Seki the only one to do this; stepping outside Toei for a bit, Medabots/Medarot had its protagonist Ikki be ten years old, much like Digimon protagonists, and the narrative was similarly dramatic. The thing is, that’s not how it usually works, and that’s especially not really been how it’s worked for the majority of kids’ series since the mid-2000s. In general, and especially now, it’s usually common to have the protagonists of children’s media be slightly older than the target age group. This has a lot of reasons behind it -- partially because kids are looking to have slightly older characters as a model for what to follow in their immediate future, and partially because “the things you want to teach the kids” are often more realistically reflected if the kids on screen have the right level of independence and capacity for emotional contemplation. Case in point: while everyone agrees the Adventure through Frontier characters are quite relatable, it’s a common criticism that the level of emotional insight sometimes pushes the boundary of what’s actually believable for 10-11 year olds...

...which is presumably why, with the exception of this reboot, every Digimon TV series since, as of this writing, started shifting to middle school students. That doesn’t mean they’re aiming the series at middle school kids now, especially because real-life 13-15 year olds are usually at the stage where they pretend they’ve outgrown kids’ shows (after all, that’s why there’s a whole term for “middle school second year syndrome”), but more that the narrative that they want to tell is best reflected by kids of that age, especially when we’re talking characters meant to represent children from the real world and not near-immortal youkai like Kitaro. In fact, the Appmon staff outright said that Haru was placed in middle school because the story needed that level of independence and emotional sensitivity, which is interesting to consider in light of the fact that Appmon’s emotional drama is basically on par with that of Adventure through Frontier’s. So in other words, the kind of high-level drama endemic to Adventure through Frontier is would actually normally be more on par with what you’d expect for kids of Haru’s age.

But at this point, the franchise is at a point of desperation, and you can see that, as I said earlier, Appmon was blatantly trying to be one of those “have its cake and eat it too” series by having possibly one of the franchise’s most dramatic storylines while also having some of the most unsubtle catchphrases and bright colors it has to offer. Moreover, one thing you might notice if you look closely at Appmon: most of its episodes are self-contained. Only a very small handful of episodes are actively dependent on understanding what happened in prior episodes to understand the conflict going on in the current one -- it’s just very cleverly structured in a way you don’t really notice this as easily. So as you can see, the more desperate the franchise has gotten to get its kids’ audience back, the more it has to be able to grab the younger demographic and not lock them out as much as possible -- which means that it has to do things that the original series didn’t have to worry about at all.

Having seen the reboot myself, I can say that it checks off a lot of what you might expect if you tried to repurpose something based on Adventure (and only vaguely based on it, really) into a more episodic story that doesn’t require you to follow the whole thing, and that it has to break down its story into easy-to-follow bits. In fact, there were times where I actually felt like it gave me the vibes of an educational show that would usually be expected for this demographic, such as repeated use of slogans or fun catchphrases for young kids to join in on. That alone means that even if the “base premise” is similar to the original Adventure, this already necessitates a lot of things that have to be very different, because Adventure really cannot be called episodic no matter how you slice it.

Not only that, even though the target audience consideration has yet to be outright stated, we also have interviews on hand that made it very clear, from the very beginning, what their goals with the reboot were: they wanted the kids to be able to enjoy a story of otherworldly exploration during the pandemic, they wanted cool action sequences, and they wanted to get the adults curious about what might be different from the original. Note that last part: they actively wanted this series to be different from the original, because the differences would engage parents in spotting the differences, and the third episode practically even goes out of its way to lay that message down by taking the kids to a familiar summer camp, only to have it pass without incident and go “ha, you thought, but nope!” Moreover -- this is the key part -- “surprising” people who were coming from the original series was a deliberate goal they had from the very beginning. They’ve stated this outright -- they knew older fans were watching this! They were not remotely shy about stating that they wanted to surprise returning viewers with unexpected things! They even implied that they wanted it to be a fun experience for older watchers to see what was different and what wasn’t -- basically, it’s a new show for their kids who never saw the original Adventure, while the parents are entertained by a very different take on something that seems ostensibly familiar.

On top of that, the head writer directly cited V-Tamer as an influence -- and if you know anything about V-Tamer, it’s really not that much of a character narrative compared to what we usually know of Digimon anime, and is mostly known for its battle tactics and action sequences (but in manga form). In other words, we have a Digimon anime series that, from day one, was deliberately made to have a writing philosophy and goal that was absolutely not intended to be like Adventure -- or any Digimon TV anime up to this point -- in any way. And that’s a huge shock for us as veterans, who have developed our tastes and expectations based on up to seven series of Digimon that were absolutely not like this at all. But for all it's worth, the circumstances surrounding its production and intent don't seem to quite line up with what the most common accusations against it are:

That it’s a rehash of Adventure: It really isn’t. It’s also blatantly apparent it has no intention of being so. The points that are in common: the character names and rough character designs, some very minimal profile details for said characters, Devimon having any particular foil position to Angemon, the use of Crests to represent personal growth, the premise of being in the Digital World and...that’s it! Once those points are aside, it’s really hard to say that the series resembles Adventure any more than Frontier or Xros Wars resembles Adventure (which are also “trapped in another world” narratives) -- actually, there are times the series resembles those two more than the original Adventure, which many have been quick to point out. The majority of things you can make any kind of comparison to basically drop off by the end of the first quarter or so, and trying to force a correlation is basically just that: you’d have to try forcing the comparison. The plot, writing style, and even the lineup of enemies shown just go in a completely different direction after that. So in the end, the base similarities can be said to be a marketing thing; if I want to criticize this series, I don’t think “lack of creativity” would actually be something I would criticize it for. (Of course, you’re still welcome to not be a huge fan of how they’re still guilty of using Adventure’s name value to market something that is not actually Adventure. We’re all gonna have mixed feelings on that one.)

That they don’t understand or remember Adventure’s appeal: Unlikely. All of the main staff has worked on character-based narratives before, which have been very well-praised while we’re at it. The producer, Sakurada Hiroyuki, was an assistant producer on the original series, and I would like to believe he probably remembers at least a thing or two about what they were doing with the original series...but, also, he’s the producer of Xros Wars, which definitely had its own individuality and style, and, moreover, was more of a character narrative that people generally tend to expect from Digimon anime. (Still a bit unconventional, and it has its own questions of personal taste, but a lot of people have also pointed out that this reboot has a lot in common with Xros Wars in terms of its writing tone and its emphasis on developing Digital World resident Digimon moreso than the human characters.) All signs point to the idea they could make a character narrative like Adventure if they really wanted to. It’s just, they don’t want to do that with this reboot, so they didn’t.

That they misinterpreted or misremembered the Adventure characters: There’s been accusations of said characters being written in a way that implies misinterpretation or lack of understanding of the original characters, but the thing is, while I definitely agree they have nowhere near the depth of the original ones, there are points that seem to be deliberate changes. (At some points, they’re actually opposites of the original, and certain things that operate as some very obscure references -- for instance, Sora complaining about having to sit in seiza -- seem to also be deliberate statements of going in a different direction.) The lack of human character depth or backstory doesn’t seem to be out of negligence, but rather that this story doesn’t want to be a character narrative to begin with -- after all, we’re used to seven series of Digimon that are, but there are many, many kids’ anime, or even stories in general, where the story is more about plot or action than it is completely unpacking all of its characters’ heads. In this case, this reboot does seem to have characters that are taking cues from or are “inspired by” the original, but, after all, it’s an alternate universe and has no obligation to adhere to the original characters’ backgrounds, so it stands to reason that it’d take liberties whenever it wanted. (Again, the head writer outright stated that he based the reboot’s Taichi more on V-Tamer Taichi than the original Adventure anime Taichi. He knows there’s a difference!) Even more intriguingly, the series actually avoids certain things that are common misconceptions or pigeonholes that would normally be done by the mainstream -- for instance, the Crest of Light (infamously one of the more abstract ones in the narrative) is fully consistent with Adventure’s definition of it as “the power of life”, and, if I dare say so myself, Koushirou’s characterization (emphasizing his relationship with “knowledge” and his natural shyness) arguably resembles the original far more than most common fan reductions of his character that overemphasize his computer skills over his personal aptitude. In other words, I think the staff does know what happened in the original Adventure -- they just actively don’t want to do what Adventure did, even if it’s ostensibly a reboot.

That it’s soulless or that there’s no passion in its creation: Well, this is subjective, and in the end I’m not a member of the staff to tell you anything for sure, but there are definitely a lot of things in this anime that don’t seem like they’d be the byproduct of uninspired creation or lack of passion. It’s just that those things are all not the kinds of things that we, as Digimon veterans, have come to develop a taste for and appreciate in Digimon anime. That is to say, there is an incredible amount of thought and detail put into representing Digimon null canon (i.e. representing special attacks and mechanics), the action sequences are shockingly well-animated in ways that put most prior Digimon anime to shame, and the series has practically been making an obvious attempt to show off as many Digimon (creatures) that haven’t traditionally gotten good franchise representation as they can. Or sometimes really obscure “meta fanservice” references that only make sense to the really, really, really, really hardcore longtime Digimon fan (for instance, having an episode centered around Takeru and Opossummon, because Takeru’s voice actress Han Megumi voiced Airu in Xros Wars). If you follow any of the animators on Twitter, they seem to be really actively proud of their work on it, and franchise creators Volcano Ota and Watanabe Kenji seem to be enjoying themselves every week...so basically, we definitely have creators passionate about having fun with this, it’s just that all of it is being channeled here, not the character writing.

So in the end, you can basically see that this series is basically the epitome of desperately pulling out all of the stops to make sure this series lands with the actual target demographic of children, dammit, and gets them into appreciating how cool these fighting monsters are and how cool it would be if they stuck with them even into a series that’s not Adventure. The Adventure branding and names to lure in the parents, the straightforward and easy-to-understand action-oriented narrative so that kids will think everything is awesome and that they’ll like it even when the story changes, and the merchandise and collab events booked everywhere so that they can all be reused for the next series too...because, remember, they failed with that during Savers, Xros Wars, and Appmon (I mean, goodness, you kind of have to admire their persistence, because a ton of other kids’ franchises failing this many times would have given up by now), so it’s a bit unsurprising that they went all the way to get the kids’ attention at the expense of a lot of things that would attract veterans, especially since the veterans already have a well-developed adults’ pipeline to cater to them. This does also mean that this series is more likely to come off as a 67-episode toy commercial than any previous Digimon series, but it’s not even really the toys as much as they’re trying to sell the entire franchise and the actual monsters in the hopes that they’ll stick with it even when the narrative changes.

Nevertheless, here we are. The series is over. Ghost Game -- which, as of this writing, is looking to be much more of a conventional Digimon narrative, complete with older cast, obviously more dramatic atmosphere, and pretty much everything surrounding its PR -- is on its way, presumably thanks to the success of this endeavor. It’s hard to gauge it; we have it on record that they also intend it to be episodic, but remember that this doesn’t necessarily prevent it from having an overall dramatic plot or nuanced drama (especially since the abovementioned Appmon and Kitaro were perfectly capable of pulling off this balance). Nevertheless, it seems to be a lot more of the conventional kind of Digimon narrative we usually expect, so, as for us, adult long-time fans of the Digimon franchise (many of whom don’t have kids anyway), what exactly should we make of this? Well, as far as “supporting the franchise” goes, you’ll get much more progress supporting Ghost Game than the reboot; I highly doubt view counts and merch sales relative to an already-finished series will do nearly as much for the franchise’s health as much as the currently airing series, and, besides, it’d probably do us all a favor to support the endeavor that’s actually new and fresh. So when it comes to a “past” series like this, it’s all just going to come down to a question of personal preference and taste: is this a series you, personally, want to watch, and would you find it entertaining?

For some of you, it’s possible that it just won’t be your cup of tea at all -- and since, like I said, the majority of us here have based our expectations and preferences on up to seven series of Digimon that were not like this, that’s also perfectly fine, and in that case I don’t actually recommend you watch this. Of course, I’ve never thought that it was ever fair to expect a Digimon fan to have seen all of the series released to date; the more series we get, the more inhumane of a demand that’ll become, and I think this franchise becoming successful enough to have so many series that most people won’t have seen it all is a good thing. (It’s actually kind of alarming that the percentage of people who have seen it all is so high, because it means the franchise has failed to get much of an audience beyond comparatively hardcore people who committed to it all the way.) But I think, especially in this case, with a series for which adult fans like us were probably lowest on the priority list due to the sheer amount of desperation going on here, it’s fine to skip it, and if you’re someone who lives by a need for character depth or emotionally riveting narrative, the fact this series is (very unabashedly and unashamedly) mostly comprised of episodic stories and action sequences means you won’t have missed much and probably won’t feel too left out of any conversations going forward. That’s before we even get into the part where it’s still completely understandable to potentially have mixed feelings or resentment about the overuse of the Adventure brand for something like this, especially if Adventure is a particularly important series to you.

But for some of you out there, it might still be something you can enjoy on its own merits. I’ve seen people who were disappointed by the limited degree of Digimon action sequences in the past or the fact that the series has gotten overly fixated on humans, and had an absolute ball with the reboot because it finally got to represent parts of the franchise they felt hadn’t been shown off as well. “Fun” is a perfectly valid reason to enjoy something. It’s also perfectly possible to be someone who can enjoy character narratives like the prior Digimon series but also enjoy something that’s more for being outlandish and fun and has cool Digital World concepts and visuals -- and, like I said, it does not let up on that latter aspect at all, so there’s actually potential for a huge feast in that regard. I think as long as you don’t expect it to be a character narrative like Adventure -- which will only set you up for disappointment, because it’s not (and made very clear since even the earliest episodes and interviews that it had no intention of being one) -- it’s very possible to enjoy it for what it is, and for what it does uniquely.

#digimon #digimon adventure:#digimon adventure reboot #digimon adventure 2020 #digimon adventure psi #shihameta

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skellebonez · 3 years

Note

Because I'm sure this is going to be inevitable, how about some angst for the Chaos Trio (Mei, Jin and Yin)? With 61 and 52

Oh I have been looking forward to Chaos Trio angst since you sent me this, anon. Despite how they act in show... I think Jin and Yin are not exactly harmless. Especially if you mess with people they start to consider family.

The Cursed AU and the Chaos Trio in it come from @winterpower98!

Warning: blood and head injuries, enemy demons limbs (not detailed).

That is not a good hiding spot./I am a really bad actor.

Things had been going pretty well, all things considered. Jin and Yin had no problem getting Mei to join them in a little bit of... let's say "competitive insurance" as it were. They had to make sure they were secured in their own little tech related ventures, and after some financial setbacks they needed extra fallback. They’d planned the whole thing out with her help, more than 2 steps and everything! She was good at that.

The problem was that someone got a lucky hit.

They would have made it out with no problems, if they all hadn't decided going on Mei's motorcycle as a group (which, now that Yin thought about it, was probably incredibly dangerous and illegal with 3 of them on it... not that they cared about legality for themselves but somehow when it came to Mei that suddenly made them concerned). But nope. 1 bike. 3 people.

One lucky shot to the rear tire.

The three of them went flying, Mei landing very impressively on her feet whole Jin and Yin bounced on a bush and thanked anyone listening that demons were sturdier than humans. They didn't thank anyone for the pieces of bike that came flying at them all, and they were certain that they heard a piece make contact with something hard, maybe the nearby light pole, but couldn't be sure.

By the time they looked up they just knew they had a group of very angry demons that were pissed they stole and then wiped their code for... something, didn't matter to the twins what it was. They just wanted their competition out of the way. For solely selfish reasons. Nothing else. Not like they wanted it to see what it was and maybe figure out a counter attack so that certain overpowered people with monkey motifs would have an easier time in the future.

Not a chance.

As they fought off the attacking demons they insisted to themselves they didn't care that much.

"That is not a good hiding spot!" Jin yelled across the battlefield as Yin ducked behind crates. "Just chuck it for now and beat em with the blunt end of something else!"

"Just give me 2 seconds, I can fix it!" Yin yelled back, trying his best to reassemble a part of his sword hilt that had broken off.

"Come on, these guys ain't so tough!" Mei laughed out, easily dodging projectiles and backsliding and slicing and dicing as she went. No one was actually killed, but they were lucky because the only reason for that was the young woman wasn't exactly out for blood. They'd be feeling every single hit well into morning though! She was doing much better than the two of them. "Grab a pipe or something! Wish I had MK's magic building power though, I'd rather not be here all-YIN!"

The younger twin looked up from where he had been crouched, eyes widening as he saw the form of a much larger demon hulking over him and ready to batter him with a club.

Things had been going well. All things considered. Then someone got a second lucky hit.

Right as Mei dove in to push the younger silver twin out of the way.

For a second the fighting stopped. There was just the sound of wood hitting hard plastic and fiberglass as the club was sliced in half by her sword and the lopped off half continued it's trajectory and slammed into Mei's head to lead to her crumbling on top of Yin. Jin stood on too of a pile of crates, watching as a line of red seeped through a crack in her visor and stained the white of her suit.

And then his entire vision was red as he lunged at the demon and sliced, sending his arm flying in the opposite direction.

The demon screamed, holding the stump that was his arm from the elbow down, backing away as quickly as he could. "W-what the hell!?"

"Mei," Yin said softly, carefully clicking the emergency release button to make her helmet digitize away. Her eyes were closed, blood dripping from a slice running along her scalp... but as far as he could tell it was from part of the helmet being cracked and cutting her. She was most likely knocked out from the impact, breathing odd but steady in her unconscious state. "You... we're going to get you to the hospital."

His tone hardened as he carefully laid her on the ground, standing tall as he grabbed his broken weapon and a nearby piece of broken steel.

"You. Are going. To pay for that," Yin said coldly, stance no longer lose and half playful as it had been the whole battle. His stood tall, eyes wide and cold and the demons surrounding them felt a chill run down their spines.

Jin stood in front of him, blood from the other demon splattered across his face and chest in a stark contrast to his orange visage.

This... this wasn't the pair of Gold and Silver Demons they had heard about before. They were known for not taking almost anything seriously, making bad deals and pacts and weird blood oaths they wasted on bizarre favors. They were known for being good at tach but not much else, most demons in the area knew vaguely of their history with the Monkey King but even that ended in failure. Their plans were half baked, goofy, and lately they'd heard they'd gotten roped in with the Monkey King's successor and renewed flame of the Six-Eared Macaque.

The two standing before them did not look like the demons they'd heard about.

Mei hadn't wanted to seriously hurt anyone. The demons heard her yelling as much on the battlefield. But now Mei was hurt.

And the twins did.

It happened fast. They wanted to get it over with quickly. Mei had also not wanted to kill anyone at the very least the twins could do was keep up their promise from earlier in the day to avoid that. And they did.

That didn't mean there weren't lost limbs. Hands and arms. A leg or two. More than a couple eyes were lost. Someone lost an ear. Another a tail and horn.

Injuries they could recover from meant as warnings.

All it took was 3 minutes and the entire storage area they crashed in was a mix of grey and brown and red. Demons holding their injuries or running off.

The one who had attacked Yin and hurt Mei stood in awe and fear, looking down at the smaller twins who has decimated an entire group so fast.

"I-how!?" He yelled, backing up slowly. "This isn't possible, you're not this strong!"

"Who told you that?" Yin asked slowly, tilting his head and watching as the demon realized... he'd never heard they couldn't fight. "We don't fight like this because we don't want to. Never meant we can't."

"Why?"

"We are really bad actors," Jin said, wiping the blood off his weapon on an unconscious demon's shirt. "Why bother trying to hold back when we can just hide it by not trying?" He turned to the demon, glowering coldly as he watched his brother pick Mei up carefully. "Tell anyone who asks nothing. We'd like to keep it that way. Unless you want a round two where someone else doesn't hold us back."

And then they were gone.

"What in the actual hell happened?" Macaque asked in an even tone. Practiced even. A dangerous even.

"Well-" "You see boss-" "we kinda-" "-there was-"

Jin and Yin tried to think of a reasonable excuse, faltering as everything they thought of sounded worse and worse in their heads.

The two sat in Mei's hospital room, towels draped around their shoulders. They’d been smart enough to stash Mei's bike somewhere safe and wash off in the ocean before coming to the hospital, less covered in demon blood meant less scared humans when they rushed in with Mei in tow, and it was easy to make the nurses believe them.

Simple bike accident, friend hurt, help please.

With Macaque staring them down with his patented death glower, shadows growing and warping around the room in response to him, it was infinitely harder.

Of course Mei's emergency contact was MK. Of course MK could call Macaque before her parents (who were apparently on their way back from some kind of dragon family business trip when they learned). Of course Macaque would show up almost immediately and begin asking questions.

"It was my fault," Mei chimed in, voice slightly off from having awoken with a nasty concussion. "I thought it'd be fun to go on a joy ride late at night, I've done it before without issues! But, uh... I've never had two passengers before... and we hit something. Don't be mad at them?"

Macaque looked like he believed Mei as much as he believed Tang would lose interest in the Monkey King and switch his field of study to obscure methods of basket weaving. Which is to say: he didn’t. But he sighed, giving Mei a small smile as the shadows returned to normal.

"Ok," he said softly, tone much more gentle with the dragon descendant as he reached out to brush loose hair out of her face. "I won't be mad at them. I'll be very disappointed-" his tone hardened for a second at those words as he turned to the twins with a glower again. "-but I won't be mad. Do you need anything?"

"Maybe a candy bar from the vending machines outside?" Mei asked with a smile.

"Sure," Macaque laughed and shook his head, moving to the corner of the room. "I'll be right back."

He sunk into the shadows, a cool trick that the twins would always be impressed by, and they breathed a sigh of relief at knowing they were alone. For now.

"You didn't have to do that," Jin said, frowning at Mei in concern. Maybe it was just because he was now the eldest in the room, but some kind of protective feel pulled at him.

"I know," Mei said with a tired laugh, laying back into her pillow. "But you guys are like... my bros. I gotta stand up for my bros."

And that made both Jin and Yin pause. They looked at each other, eyes widening as they both came to a realization that was probably a very long time coming at that point.

"Yeah..." Yin said, a soft smile forming on his face. "We'd do the same for you... you know, if you didn't take that hit for me you probably would have kicked everyone's ass way better than us! We barely got out by the skin of our teeth!" A full truth and a blatant lie, but he hoped Mei wouldn't pick up on that second part.

"You know it, boi!" She didn't.

It was odd for him in particular. Yin had never really thought of himself as an older brother before.

First time for everything.

#monkie kid #lego monkie kid #gen fic #cursed au #warning: blood and injury #jin and yin #dragon form mei #long xiaojiao #the chaos trio #prompt fill #six eared macaque #but only a little #dad macaque

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binxyu · 3 years

Text

>>Pairing: The Boyz x gn!readers

>>Word Count: 1.5k

>>Genre: Headcannon / Smut

>>Warnings/Kinks: Corruption, cum play/creampie, manhandling, teasing, unprotected sex, praise, foreplay (fingering + oral), makeshift gags, marking, and aftercare

➪LEE SEONGYEON

-It may have been your first time but it wasn’t Seongyeon’s. He knew what he was doing. It was almost as if he had already explored your body before.

-His tongue would be deep inside of you, swirling around to hit your walls and stretch you out. He’d add a finger and then another to get you prepped, thrusting them perfectly inside of you.

-Once you were ready, he’d go nice and slow at first. Still, you would feel him so deep inside of you, going deeper with each thrust. He’d whisper sweet nothings into your ear and kiss you softly through the entire session to ease you through it.

➪JACOB BAE

-Jacob would be nervous at first and a little shy, but every noise you made would make him feel a little more confident. He would take his time with you and praise your body any chance he got.

-He would prefer missionary for your first time together so he could watch your facial expressions and feel your nails dig into his back whenever he went faster.

-He would be gentle and loving for the most part, but if your nails went a little too deep into his back then he wouldn’t be able to help but go faster. After you had cum, he would make sure you were okay and give you a warm bath and cuddles.

➪KIM YOUNGHOON

-When you brought up losing your virginity to him, Younghoon was so flustered and embarrassed. He wasn’t sure if he could make you feel good like you wanted, but he eventually agreed.

-Even though Younghoon was shy, he was also possessive. He would suck small marks into your skin as he went down your body, pulling your clothes down your legs and throwing them to the side. He’d put your legs onto his shoulders and kiss and suck marks onto your inner thighs, making you squirm until he felt ready.

-You’d run your hands through his hair, making him groan as he pushed inside of you slowly. He didn’t want to hurt you and he’d go slowly until you told him he could go faster. Long story short, you’d have marks all over you and you wouldn’t be able to walk by the end of the night.

➪LEE JAEHYUN | HYUNJAE

-He says whatever he wants to say and that applies during sex too. He would tease you throughout the whole thing unlike how you thought he would be. Usually he was sweet and kind to you but, once you were comfortable, he would be rough and dominant.

-He’d tease you about how loud you were and might even put your underwear into your mouth to keep you quiet. You loved how rough he was being with you and you’d nod your head any time Hyunjae asked if you were okay.

-Immediately after he had filled you up and you had finished, he’d go back to being your sweetheart and take care of you. He’d get you some water and cuddle you until the soreness went away.

➪LEE JUYEON

-Highkey has a corruption kink. The idea of taking your purity away really turned Juyeon on and he’d be quick to accept the offer once you asked.

-The roughest out of the boys for your first time. He’d do missionary and be slow at first, snapping his hips into your’s with each thrust. Once you told him you were comfortable though... he wouldn’t hold back and you’d be on your hands and knees with Juyeon’s body against your ass.

-Juyeon would love the sight of you hiding your face in the pillow, trying desperately to muffle your moans as he ruined you. His hands would be gripping your hips as he finished and came inside of you once you were finished too. He would stroke your hair softly and kiss you to soothe you as your body continued to shake.

➪KEVIN MOON

-His main goal would be to make you as comfortable as possible. You’d both be nervous at first, but you’d feel much better as Kevin would joke around a little and make you laugh. Your body would relax in his arms and your arms would wrap around his neck.

-He would give you gentle kisses and rub your hips with one of his hands as the other was fingering you, stretching out your tight hole. He’d watch his fingers go in and out of you for a little while, letting you cum from them first so you knew what it felt like.

-He’d let you recover from the first orgasm before his hands were on the sheets beside your head, his cock rubbing around your hole. He’d wait for you to nod your head as a sign to go before he would thrust into you, watching your facial expressions. If he noticed any pain then he’d kiss all over your body and remind you of how much he loved you.

➪CHOI CHANHEE | NEW

-New is a sweet sensitive babie and he couldn’t imagine hurting you. He would let you tell him what to do for the most part because all he wanted to do was make you feel good.

-You’d straddle his lap and he’d kiss you, gently wrapping his arms around your waist to keep you close. He’d place little kisses down your chest as you slowly sank down onto his dick.

-New would rub your back to calm you down as you started to move your hips, your head falling back from the angle. He’d kiss your neck and groan into your ear whenever you clenched around him. He’d also be a fan of using cute pet names to make you feel special.

➪JI CHANGMIN | Q

- Q would be soft too, wanting to let you know how much you mean to him. He’d really want to savor the moment and make love to you. He’d only get a little rough when you asked him to be.

-Q would keep a blanket over the two of you to make sure your bare skin was warm as he held you close and thrusted in and out of you at a steady pace. He’d love whenever you tugged on his hair or praised him.

-Eventually, he’d cum on your stomach and play with his release with his fingers. He may even make you suck it off of his fingers if you seemed okay after the session. You’d most likely end up sucking him off after that.

➪JU HAKNYEON

-Juhaknyeon would love to give you oral before he would fuck you. He wanted you to be prepped and ready to take his cock, so he would eat you out and suck on all your sensitive spots. He wanted to hear you moan out his name.

-He would want you to feel safe with him, so he would’ve discussed boundaries before he ever did anything. He knew exactly what you wanted and how you wanted it. Juhaknyeon manhandled you a little and would hold your legs open to spread you open more.

-You’d both watch as his cock would disappear inside of you, filling you up. Your face would show pain at first, scrunching up at the new feeling. Juhaknyeon would stay still so you could get used to the feeling, waiting on you to tell him to move. You’d nod your head and that would be the beginning of a long night for the two of you.

➪KIM SUNWOO

-Sunwoo would definitely tease you and call you pet names the whole time. He would mix praises with teasing like “aw, your moans are so loud and pretty baby” or “are you really this needy already? How cute~”.

-He’d listen to you through it and if you wanted something then he’d give it to you. You just had to use your words or he wasn’t going to give you anything. He loved to hear you, someone that just a few seconds ago was so pure, beg for something so dirty.

-Despite the teasing, Sunwoo would be gentle and caring with you. He didn’t want to hurt you and he knew that you letting him have his way with your body was a lot of trust. He would never take that trust for granted.

➪SON YOUNGJAE | ERIC

-Eric would be quite shy at the beginning since he also was a little clueless about this stuff. He’d ask you to tell him what you wanted and he’d listen to you, trying his best to follow your instructions. Eventually, he’d get the hang of it and you’d be moaning into the pillow that you were clinging to your chest.

-He would chuckle at how cute you were and thrust a little faster into you, watching as your hands gripped the pillow tighter. Eric loved to watch you struggle to contain the pleasure that he was giving you. You looked so innocent and all he wanted to do now was ruin you.

-What started out cute and gentle would quickly become more rough and quick. You’d moan louder as Eric pounded into you, your nails digging into the little pillow. You might have to tell him to slow down a few times just to make sure you don’t rip the pillow with your nails.

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bluejayblueskies · 3 years

Text

can i be gentle?

Words: 7.1k

Relationships: Jon & Tim, Tim & Martin

Tags: Canon Divergence, Tim Lives, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Whump, Post-Unknowing, Injury Recovery

Warnings: suicidal thoughts/ideations, blood, injury, hospitals and hospitalization, survivor's guilt, body horror, minor gore, gun and knife violence, mentions of death, mentions of canon-typical worms, implied child abuse, meat, alcohol, swearing, crying, smoking

Ao3 link in source

Tim aches. It’s full-body, radiating through his arms and back and legs, and he wishes more than anything that he could go to sleep, to chase away the pain for at least a little while. It feels like he’s been hit by a bus.

Or been on the receiving end of several kilos of C4 igniting all at once. But that metaphor’s a bit too on-the-nose, in his opinion.

He should be dead. He should be dead.

(Does he wish he were dead? He hadn’t cared, in those few moments of clarity before he pushed the button on the detonator and the colors solidified into black nothingness, whether or not he would wake up when the smoke cleared. It’s hard to tell. He’d attached so much of himself to revenge, before, when it was easier than feeling everything else bubbling up underneath, and now that it’s been ripped away from him, he doesn’t know what emotion should be filling the gap. Probably relief.

He doesn’t feel relieved.)

The nurse is speaking to him. Her lips are moving, but he can’t hear her. His ears ring and ring and ring, and it sounds like spirling, mocking laughter.

They do some tests. Blast-induced hearing loss, the pamphlet they give him proclaims. Prognosis is good. Most patients recover in 6 weeks. Hearing aids can help with high frequencies.

His ears ring and ring and ring, and he’s alive.

He’s alive.

Jon is not.

“It’s because of him, you know.”

Martin startles badly at Tim’s voice. Tim wonders if it had been too loud; the ringing in his ears is incessant, and every word spoken sounds as if it’s coming from a very, very far distance. He moves a bit further into the room that they’ve placed Jon in, his hands shaking where they grip the wheels of the wheelchair they’d given him. Hard to walk when your leg is shattered. And some ribs as well.

Martin says something, Tim thinks, as he’s turning. His eyes are wide and rimmed with red, and he’s looking at Tim expectantly. Tim sighs, then winces as the motion sends tendrils of pain through his ribcage. “I can’t hear you, Martin. Either speak up—way, way up—or just… move your lips more or something. I don’t care.”

“What?” Martin enunciates, and it’s so ridiculous, Tim wants to cry.

He answers anyway.

“Me. Being here. I’m alive because… because of him.”

It was stupid, thinking he could protect Tim from an entire building collapsing on top of them. But his hand had gripped Tim’s wrist and he’d pulled him to the floor and he’d covered Tim’s body with his own, so when the shock wave had hit, Jon had gotten the worst of it.

Tim refuses to feel guilty about it. He does anyway. Because they’d argued, and Jon had stalked him, and Tim had cultivated his anger and fear into a simmering ember deep in his chest, but at the end of the day, Tim wasn’t supposed to survive.

Jon was.

Tim swallows, hating the bitter taste in his mouth, and says, “Do you… do you think he’s going to wake up?”

Martin says something, too softly for Tim to hear. His mouth twists into something small and pained, and he looks at the floor.

It’s answer enough.

Tim doesn’t ask again.

They arrest Elias a few hours later, after Martin’s collected himself enough to bring his plan to completion. Tim’s only regret is that he isn’t able to see the look on Elias’s face as he’s dragged away.

Knowing Tim’s luck, he’d probably have just looked smug.

The name Peter Lukas crosses Martin’s lips, spelled out in exaggerated motions when he visits Tim again. Tim thinks, absurdly, of the hydra. Cut off one head, two grow back.

Lukas probably won’t be better. Knowing their luck, he’ll be much worse. But Tim thinks of the way Melanie had shaken after she’d come out of Elias’s office, of the haunted look in Martin’s eyes when Tim had asked how his plan went, and can’t find it within himself to care.

They release him from the hospital with a hefty prescription of pain meds, small plastic hearing aids tucked in each ear, and a thick folder of discharge papers. Martin’s there when they do; the bags under his eyes are dark and smudged, and he nods mechanically as the nurses talk to him, outlining Tim’s care regime for the next few weeks. His eyes keep flicking to the side, to the corridor that leads to the long-term care section of the hospital. Wordlessly, Tim reaches over and takes Martin’s hand in his, giving it a single squeeze before holding it tightly.

Martin lets out a breath through his nose and squeezes back.

“Do you want me to, er. To take you back to yours?” Martin asks once they’re out, his voice on the softer side of muffled and overlaid with that constant ringing but audible enough now that he doesn’t have to shout.

Tim feels something almost like embarrassment curling in his stomach. “I, uh. I don’t have a place anymore.” Tim drums his fingers on his thighs, looks at the ground, and says, “I canceled my lease. About a week before we left for Great Yarmouth.”

There’s silence between them—or at least, as close to silence as Tim can get right now. Tim thinks Martin says something, a word or two brushing up against the edges of what the hearing aids allow him to hear, but he can’t grasp any of it. So, Tim looks up at Martin, at the pinched, pained expression on his face, and says, “Don’t pretend like you didn’t know.”

“Know what?” Martin says bitterly. “That you never expected to come back? Yeah, I got that part. I even got why, you know? Doesn’t make it better, though. I didn’t want to lose you, Tim.” Martin pauses, then says, so quietly Tim can barely hear it, “I didn’t want to lose anybody.”

“Yeah,” Tim says. But that’s not how this works. We were never going to all survive. Everything is fucked, and it still is, and it always will be.

“I’m sorry,” he says and finds he means it. Then, to clarify: “For hurting you. And… and for Jon.” He doesn’t elaborate on that point. He doesn’t know what he would say even if he tried. “But I’m not sorry for going, and I’m not sorry for pressing that button. If I would have died, I wouldn’t have been sorry for that either.”

“Right,” Martin says slowly. “But you didn’t. And the Circus is gone now, so do you…?”

“Do I still want to kill myself?”

Martin winces.

“Hey, your question, not mine,” Tim says, holding his hands up in a defensive gesture. After a moment, his hands drop back to his lap, and he gives a small shrug. “Don’t know. I knew I would do what I needed to in order to destroy the Circus, and I did. Thought I would die in the process, but I didn’t. I’m still trapped in the world’s shittiest job, and I don’t really…”

Tim shrugs again. “I don’t know,” he repeats. Then, because it feels true: “It was never… it was never the dying bit I was chasing, you know. I didn’t do this because I thought it would be a good way to get killed. I did it for Danny, and that’s it. Plain and simple. So if you’re asking if I want to die, the answer is no. But I can’t guarantee that I won’t make the same decision again if I have to.”

Martin’s quiet for a long moment. Then, calmer than Tim expects, he says, “Okay.”

“Okay,” Tim echoes. Then, with a levity that only feels slightly forced: “I suppose it’s back to your place, then. Just be sure to buy me dinner first.”

Martin doesn’t smile at that like he used to, but his face does soften a bit. His voice is lighter when he says, “Oh, I will. Within your dietary restrictions, that is. Which means no alcohol.”

Tim groans. “You’re no fun.”

“Uh huh.”

They begin the commute back to Martin’s flat, and the atmosphere between them grows more lighthearted than it’s been in months. Tim feels something warm and familiar curl in his chest, and he realizes just how much he’s missed this. It’s not quite easy conversation, not like it used to be, but it’s nice all the same.

Tim’s ears ring, and his entire body aches, and he still feels a numbness in his core in the shape of suspicious glances and calliope music and a face he can’t remember, but for the first time in a long, long time, he allows himself to smile.

Tim doesn’t visit Jon often. At first, it’s the guilt, acute and cloying and weighing him down. Then, it’s old hurt and stale anger, resurfacing and driving away any passing thought of Jon that isn’t tinged with bad memories and broken trust. After that, it’s just habit.

It also hurts, if he lets himself admit it. To see Jon lying there, motionless and clad entirely in white, the heart monitor attached to him reading out a constant horizontal line even as his eyes move in small, jerky motions behind his eyelids.

See? a part of him whispers. He’s not human. Maybe he never was. Maybe he was always a monster, and you just never noticed. It wouldn’t be the first time.

A newer part of him, one that gets more prominent by the day, recognizes that even if Jon isn’t human anymore, he never would have chosen this. This stasis, this half-death. Not what came before, either. That part of him remembers the way Jon’s hand had gripped his tightly as they’d opened that trapdoor, and how it had continued to do so even as the worms had begun to bite into their skin. He’d tried to protect Tim then, too, putting himself between Tim and Jane Prentiss. For all the good it did, when the worms began to come from all directions. But Tim remembers the way the terror and pain in Jon’s eyes had been tinged with sadness, with a silent apology as he gripped Tim’s hand hard enough to bruise and they both accepted that this was it.

It hadn’t been, in the end. And now it is, with Jon all-but-dead and Tim still here, wheeling his way into Jon’s hospital room for the first time in weeks.

He’s halfway in before he realizes he’s not alone.

“Oh,” he says. “I… I didn’t know you’d be here.”

Martin lets out a sharp, jagged laugh. “Where else would I be?” he says, and it’s tinged with something bitter and broken that takes Tim a bit off-guard. It’s become almost routine now, for Martin to visit Jon, and usually, he comes back looking drained but otherwise fine. Sometimes, when Tim asks him for status updates on our resident medical mystery, Martin even manages a small smile and responds, still dreaming.

Martin scrubs a hand across his face, and Tim realizes belatedly that he’s crying.

“Martin?” Tim says carefully, moving a bit closer to where Martin’s sitting. “Are you… did something happen?”

“No,” Martin says, his voice catching in a way that indicates that something very much did happen. “It’s fine.”

“Is it…?” Tim pauses, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. “Is it about Jon?”

Martin’s laugh this time is more like a whimper. “Nope, he’s- he’s the same as always. Still asleep.”

Tim moves closer but doesn’t say anything. The clock ticks rhythmically in the background, and he waits. Patience has never been his strong suit, but it’s been something that’s been required of him as of late, and he’s getting better at it.

He likes to think he’s getting better at a lot of things.

Martin doesn’t speak again for a few minutes. He stares at his hands where they rest just shy of one of Jon’s, his fingers restless against the sheets, coming up occasionally to fiddle with the thin black ring that rests on the middle finger of his right hand. Then, so quiet Tim almost can’t hear it, he says, “My mother died today.”

Oh.

“I’m sorry,” Tim says. They’re empty words, but they’re better than the good riddance and about time and you’re better off without her sitting on the back of his tongue, begging to be released. He doesn’t think they would be appreciated right now, no matter how true they might be.

“Yeah,” Martin says. He’s still staring at his hands. “They called me a few hours ago. She… she passed away in her sleep. Natural causes. From- from her illness.” He falls silent for a few moments, his fingers twisting in the sheets. Then: “I… I think I should be sad?”

Tim studies Martin’s face—the tear tracks down his cheeks, the unhappy set to his mouth, the way he’s shaking ever so slightly where he sits. His face is one of grief, but Tim doesn’t ask. He waits for Martin to continue, and after a moment, Martin says, “She was the only family I had left. She- she was my mother. I took care of her, I- I did my best to be a- a good son.” He takes in a shaky breath, curls his hands into fists, and says, “I haven’t seen her in months, you know. I- I visited at first, but she… she never wanted to see me. So I just stopped going. I’d call, every Saturday, but it was the same every time. She’s resting. She doesn’t feel up to talking right now. Call later, and we’ll see what we can do.”

Finally, Martin looks at Tim, and the guilt in his eyes is so acute Tim can feel it cut through him to his core. “I should be sad that she’s dead, but… but all I can feel is relief. And that hurts. I- I don’t know… why am I relieved? God, she was right, I- I’m horrible, no wonder she- she never wanted to see me, I- why can’t I- I can’t—”

Martin cuts off with a wet sob, and all at once, Tim understands.

“It’s okay,” he says, and he collects Martin’s hands from the sheets, holds them tightly in his own. “You can feel however you like, it’s- it’s okay.”

He squeezes Martin’s hands, just once, and repeats, “It’s okay.”

He knows Martin won’t believe him. But still, he sits, and Martin cries, and he says, It’s okay.

It’s okay.

The hearing aids are a permanent fixture in his ears now, as most people have full hearing restoration after six weeks apparently doesn’t include him. The tinnitus is still particularly bad some days, but they help with everything else. It’s not perfect, but it’s a small price to pay for living, he supposes.

He’s not sure when, exactly, he decides that he’s glad he’s alive. But he does.

He wishes he hadn’t been able to hear at all, when the Flesh attacks. He wishes he hadn’t been able to hear the wet, sticky sounds of things that shouldn’t be able to move without bones slipping through the vents, shattering the relative peace they’d begun to cultivate. He wishes he hadn’t been able to hear the pops of Basira’s gun, bullets burying themselves in things that barely flinched at the contact. He wishes he hadn’t been able to hear Melanie’s screams of anger, the responding screams of pain from things with too many eyes and teeth and limbs as her knife carved a violent path through them.

There are yellow doors and hands slick with blood and a sudden quiet as the last of the twisted, mangled creatures falls, sliced neatly in two in a way that’s just a bit too clean.

Melanie is breathing heavily, but her hands are steady and her eyes are hard with something raging and violent. When Basira reaches tentatively for her knife, saying, “It’s over now, Melanie. We’re- we’re safe,” Melanie stiffens but doesn’t resist.

“This isn’t right,” Tim says after Melanie comes back to herself in bits and pieces, enough to shudder at the blood coating her arms up to the elbows and mutter something he can’t quite catch before disappearing into the toilet. “None of this is. God, can we ever catch a fucking break?”

“We can deal with it later,” Basira says. She’s calm, but she can’t quite hide the tremor in her voice. Her Al-Amira is splattered with viscera. “Right now, we need to make a call. Get this cleaned up.”

“What,” Tim says bitterly, “so we can continue hiding away in the Archives? You’re the one who said we should start sleeping here. Should have known it wouldn’t be safe. It’s not like it was before.”

He rubs at one of the small circular scars on the back of his left hand, his skin crawling with a phantom itch that makes him vaguely nauseous.

“We stay here,” Basira says, leaving no room for debate. “We make the call, and we stay here.”

Tim makes a low, frustrated noise, and bites out, “Fine. Because Basira always knows best. Whatever.” He unlocks his wheelchair and says shortly, “I’m going outside for some fresh air. The smell of rotting meat is making me sick.”

Basira doesn’t follow him.

Martin does.

They situate themselves just outside the glass doors, and they don’t say anything for a long time. Martin still looks vaguely ill. His face is pale, and his hands are fidgeting at his sides. His fingers are resting on his ring, twisting it back and forth, agitated. His shoes are stained a glistening red.

Finally, Martin tilts his head back so it hits the wall behind him and says to the air above him, “Is it horrible that I wish Jon were here?”

Tim snorts, anger still bubbling under the surface of his skin. “Because we’d have done so much better with our own flavor of spooky bullshit?” He bites out a bitter laugh. “Maybe he could have compelled them to explain exactly why every single monster out there has a personal vendetta against us. Working for an eldritch horror of voyeurism doesn’t give you much in terms of an offense.”

“Stop,” Martin says sharply. “You know what I mean.”

Tim does. He’s just not particularly inclined to wax nostalgic about the power of friendship and comradery when he’s got bits of meat stuck in his hair.

Still, he finds that he means it when he says, “I wish he was too. For what it’s worth. Which isn’t a fucking lot, but it’s what we’ve got.”

“Yeah,” Martin says. His hand brushes against Tim’s, and they fall back into silence.

The police arrive, followed closely by the ECDC. It’s a messy affair, even messier than the last time Tim had been in this situation, and Tim wants nothing more than to get away. Forever.

He doesn’t make any jokes this time. He just nods in the right places, and when they’re finally released and he and Martin return to a flat they haven’t seen in weeks, he can feel weariness cutting through him to the bone.

When he wakes the next day, Martin’s gone. His note, stuck to the door of the fridge, says, At the hospital. Be back around noon.

It’s ten in the morning, and the sunlight is bright as it streams in through the kitchen window.

Tim digs out the bottle of rum that Martin keeps tucked in the back of his cabinet and pours himself a drink.

“Peter Lukas wants me to be his assistant.”

Tim looks up from what’s turning out to be quite an impressive doodle of the little figurine of a frog in a top hat he’d purchased back in research from a charity shop and says, “Absolutely not.”

Martin sucks his bottom lip between his teeth, holds it there for a moment, and then says, “I don’t know if I have a choice in the matter, really. It’s… it’s not safe here anymore.” Quieter: “He said he can help. Off- offer protection.”

Tim audibly scoffs at that. He sets down his pencil and notepad and crosses his arms across his chest. He can already feel a headache coming on. (More than the usual, that is. He’s almost able to tune out the constant ringing in his ears now.

Almost.)

“What’s he going to do, isolate them to death? It’s not like the Lonely’s any better of an offensive force than the Eye. We’re doing just fine without involving him.”

“Are we?” Martin’s voice is hard and a bit choked when he continues, “We’re living down here because it’s not safe to stay outside for too long. We’re still finding bits of- of flesh in- eugh.” Martin shudders and folds inward on himself. Quieter, enough so that Tim has to watch the motion of his lips to make out the words, he says, “Jon’s not waking up.”

Tim feels something inside of him twist. “We don’t know that. We don’t know what’s happening with him.” A touch bitterly—old habits die hard, he supposes—he says, “Maybe he’s just not done going through his monster metamorphosis yet.”

“Tim.”

Tim sighs. It’s a profoundly weary sound. “Yeah, yeah. I… I miss him too, you know.”

He’s surprised to find that it’s not a lie.

“Right.” A small, shaky smile crosses Martin’s face, and he says, “I- I suppose they’re right, then. Distance does make the heart grow fonder.”

“Somehow,” Tim says, “I don’t think whoever coined that phrase had this situation in mind.”

Martin’s smile fades as quickly as it had come, and Tim feels a pang of guilt. “Sorry,” he says, pushing away from the desk and wheeling across the room to where Martin sits. He hesitates, just a moment, before placing his hand on Martin’s where it rests on his knee. “I… I suppose I’ve forgotten how to be lighthearted about all of this.”

Martin nods. It’s a small motion. He’s silent for a long moment; Tim squeezes his hand and says nothing. Finally, Martin looks down at his hands and says, “It’s been four months, Tim. Nothing’s changed.” He pauses again, his mouth pinching around the edges. “I… I visited him today. I begged him to wake up, to- to do anything to indicate that he’s even still there. I don’t know why I expected him to answer. It’s not like anything’s different now. He- he’s never going to wake up, Tim.”

Martin’s voice cracks, and he repeats, wetly, “He’s never going to wake up.”

Then, Martin’s crying, heaving sobs that overtake him completely and have him hunched over, dripping salty tears onto the back of Tim’s hand. “Hey, hey, hey,” Tim says, leaning forward as far as he’s comfortably able to and wrapping Martin in as hard of a hug as he can manage. He rubs his hands in circles across Martin’s shoulderblades, feeling Martin’s shaky breaths against the side of his neck, and says, “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

He repeats it, again and again, as Martin cries into his shoulder and says, over and over, words thick with grief, “He’s dead, Tim. He’s dead.”

“It’s okay,” Tim says. Maybe if he says it enough times, he’ll start to believe it.

Eventually, Martin’s body stops shaking and he pulls back, the tear tracks on his cheeks already beginning to dry. His eyes are red-rimmed and glistening, and he looks tired, grief apparent in every line of him.

“I said I’d think about it,” Martin says, in a voice rubbed raw and hoarse. “When Peter called me. I- I said I’d think about it. I- I don’t know why…” He cuts off, makes a small, distressed noise, and says, “What do I even have left? If- if this can help, what- what do I have to lose?”

Tim feels a pang of hurt flash through him, but he suppresses it. He squeezes Martin’s hands, gives him as wide a smile as he can without breaking, and says, “You have me. And I’m not leaving—you’re stuck with me. So don’t think for a second that if you take Peter’s deal, I won’t be there still. I’m like a bad penny, or, I don’t know, a- a fungus or whatever. The point is, you’re not going to get rid of me. Whether or not you decide to work for Lukas—which you shouldn’t, by the way, in case I haven’t made that abundantly clear—you’re not going to be lonely, okay? Not on my watch. I can be very persistent when I put my mind to it.”

Martin looks at Tim, eyes wide, and another small, hiccuping sob escapes him. “You really mean that?”

“Yes, Martin,” Tim says, exasperation and fondness filling him in equal measure. “Christ, just because things got… rough for a bit, it doesn’t mean I stopped caring about you. Honestly, don’t know if I could. You’re a very lovable person, you know. It’s not like being your friend is a hardship.”

Martin laughs a little at that, his voice still thick with tears. “Well, when you put it like that…”

Tim gives him another smile, and this one feels easier. Like it would be harder not to smile. Still, he’s careful with his words when he says, “So, then. What are you going to do? I’ve made my opinion more than known, but…” Tim swallows around the lump in his throat and continues, “It’s your decision.”

“Yeah,” Martin says, barely more than a whisper. “Yeah.”

Peter calls again. And when Martin hesitates for a long moment before giving a quiet yet firm no, the relief that sweeps over Tim is enough to make him feel weightless.

Two months later, as a man who smells of death shuts the door behind him, Jon takes a rattling breath and finally opens his eyes.

“Tim?”

Tim raises the hand that’s not holding a rather large bouquet of white daisies and baby’s breath in a half-wave. “Hi, boss. Been a while.”

The look Jon gives him is half-shocked, half-nervous. “I… I suppose it has. Six months, apparently.”

Tim makes a sound of affirmation before wheeling himself fully into Jon’s hospital room and letting the door swing shut behind him. “You know,” he says, allowing a blanket of levity to fall over him, “when we said you should get more sleep, this isn’t exactly what we meant.”

Jon just stares at him for a moment, face blank and eyes wide. Then, a laugh escapes him, a small hiccup of amusement. “Yes, well. I can’t say that I feel particularly well-rested.”

Tim imagines what it must have been like, to be locked in a dreamscape stasis for six months. He can’t say that the idea sounds particularly relaxing. “Yep, sounds about right. Guess we can cross ‘spooky coma’ off our list of possible cures for sleep deprivation.”

Jon folds inward on himself a bit, hugging one arm to his chest and gripping the other tightly. “Right,” he says, his voice small. He looks away from Tim, focusing on the small window in the corner of the room, and says, “I… I’m sorry, Tim.”

Right. Jon still thinks Tim hates him.

Tim lets out a long, weary sigh and makes his way to Jon’s bed. He practically shoves the flowers into Jon’s hands; Jon takes them, more out of surprise than anything, white petals tickling the bottom of his chin. “It’s been six months, Jon. You’ve been… honestly, a bit dead? No offense. And I’ve been alive. And we both know it was meant to be the other way around.”

Jon opens his mouth, and Tim holds up a hand. “Don’t. I know. I already hear enough about it from my therapist, I don’t need to hear about it from you too. The point is that I’ve… I’ve had time to think. And some of the things you did, I can’t forgive you for. But some of it…”

Tim shrugs. “Martin would always go on about how it wasn’t your fault. About how you were suffering just as much as us. And maybe I didn’t believe it because I was already angry, or maybe I didn’t believe it because all I could think about was finally getting a chance at the revenge I’d chased after for years. But then you were gone, and the Circus was gone, and I just… didn’t have anything left for the anger to hold on to.”

Jon clutches the flowers tightly in his hands, looks down at the petals. “But you were right,” he says quietly. “A- about me.”

Tim casts himself back six months and sifts through a metric ton of bitter remarks and angry assumptions. “You’re going to have to be more specific.”

Jon lets out a slow, shaky breath. “About me not being human.”

Oh.

“Jon—”

“Do you know what I was dreaming about?” Jon cuts in before Tim can say anything else. “I- I don’t remember, not really, but… but I can guess. I… I Know, somehow, that- that they were the same dreams, over and over and over again.” Jon takes one of the flower petals between his fingers and rubs it back and forth, a nervous gesture. “I started having them soon after I took this job, you know. Naomi Herne was the first one, and I- I didn’t understand why. Every night, she was trapped in the fog, forced into her own grave, and I would try to move, because it- it felt like I should have been able to, but it- it never worked. So I… I stopped trying after a while. I would stand and watch as she relived one of the worst experiences of her life, every night, and I- I couldn’t do anything to stop it.”

Jon crushes the petal between his fingers. “She was the first one, but- but there are so many more now. Lionel Elliott and Jordan Kennedy and- and, Christ, Georgie—”

Jon makes a small, unhappy noise. “I don’t know when I realized that they could see me in their dreams too. That in trying to help, I- I’d just made myself another source of terror.”

Jon falls silent for a few moments; the quiet is filled by the familiar tick tick tick of the clock in the corner. Then, so quietly Tim has to focus on his lips to catch the words, he says, “I… I think I made a choice. Before I woke up. I don’t… I don’t know what it means for me, not really, but I know it means that I’m worse than I was before.” He lets out a bitter laugh, devoid of any humor. “So, you were right. I’m just- just even less human now.”

Jon falls silent again, and for a few moments, there’s just tick, tick, tick. Tim rolls the words over in his mind, looks at Jon’s pinched, unhappy expression, and says, “Okay.”

Jon looks at him then, his brow furrowed in confusion. “Okay?”

Tim shrugs and repeats, “Okay. You’re not human. I’m not going to pretend like that thrills me or whatever, but it’s… honestly, it’s a lot less of an issue for me now than it was back then.”

“I- I don’t…” Jon trails off with a frustrated noise. “What?”

Tim sighs. “A lot’s changed, Jon. Things have… well, things have kind of gone to hell. Honestly, we could use a few monsters who are on our side for a change.”

Jon blinks at him in stunned silence for a few moments more before saying, bewildered, “... Right. Uh, I- I suppose I shouldn’t ask how you’ve been, then.”

A wry smile cracks across Tim’s face. “I’ve been just peachy, thanks for asking. Blow up one Circus and suddenly every spooky monster out there wants to kill you. It’s been one big, long, horrible sleepover in the Archives. But hey, at least Elias isn’t there! Now we’ve just got Lukas, and if one or two staff members disappear every once and a while, well—that’s just how it is at the Magnus Institute. Nothing to be concerned about. Sometimes, we still go out for drinks.”

“Tim,” Jon says flatly. The exasperated expression on his face is so familiar—so Jon—that Tim feels a tension he hadn’t known he’d been holding slip away.

“Yeah, yeah,” Tim says, waving a hand absently in Jon’s direction. “Point is, I’m not disappointed or angry or whatever that you’re back in the land of the living.” He pauses, and then, more sincerely: “Martin’s not the only one who’s missed you, okay?”

Jon’s lips part into an O. Then, his mouth twitches up into a smirk, and he says, “Mm, you’re right. Basira did stop by earlier, and then of course Georgie, and I bet even Melanie—”

“Unbelievable. And here I was nice enough to come all the way over here, to bring you flowers.”

“Mm, they are very nice flowers.”

“Damn right they are.”

Jon smiles then, a fragile thing, and says, “Thank you, Tim. I… I’ve missed you too.”

Tim could point out that Jon had been asleep for the majority of the time in question. But he knows that’s not what Jon means. So instead, he offers Jon a smile in return and says, “Be honest: more or less than the Admiral?”

Jon shoots Tim a flat, unimpressed look. “Tim, don’t be ridiculous. Of course less than the Admiral.”

Tim’s been out of the wheelchair for a week when he finally manages to make his way to the roof of the Institute, still learning how to maneuver the crutches he’s moved on to. He swears he can feel every motion of the pins and the rods in his leg—skin covered with even more scars for the collection—as he finally heaves himself through the door and into the cool night air.

The view is just as good as he remembers.

There’s the faint smell of cigarette smoke hanging in the air, and Tim’s entirely unsurprised to see Jon silhouetted against the glow of London, leaning against the wall that rings the roof with his back facing Tim. The cigarette glows a dull red as he raises it to his lips and breathes in.

Jon doesn’t say anything, even as Tim painstakingly makes his way over to where he’s stood. Tim props his crutches against the wall before leaning his weight heavily against it, arms crossed atop the wall in a mirror image of Jon as they both look out onto the city below, humming with life and light.

Finally, after a particularly long drag of his cigarette, Jon says, “I’m going to get Daisy.”

There’s no room for argument in his voice. But that’s never stopped Tim from trying anyways.

“I thought you were done doing stupid shit that’ll get you killed,” Tim says, turning his head to look at Jon. Jon’s staring forward, but Tim gets the distinct impression that Jon isn’t looking out at the city at all.

“It won’t kill me,” Jon says quietly. He moves his hands as he talks, surprisingly competent sign language that he’s begun using tentatively in his conversations with Tim. When Tim had asked him where he’d learned it, Jon had been quiet for a long moment before telling him that he hadn’t.

Well. At least the Eye was being useful for once.

“Yeah, whatever,” Tim says. “Dead or not, you’ll still be gone. You know people who crawl into that coffin don’t come back.”

“I don’t—” Jon cuts off with a frustrated noise. After a moment, he continues, “I have a plan. I- I read a statement, and it said that I would need an anchor. A- a piece of myself to keep here. I can find it when I’m down there, and- and use it to guide me back.”

“Right,” Tim says dryly. “Because our plans have always gone so well.”

“What would you have me do, Tim? I- I can’t just do nothing.”

“Why not?”

Jon affixes him with an expression that’s half-affronted, half-stunned. “Tim.”

“What? Jon, we barely know Daisy. She tried to kill you. No, don’t give me that look.” Tim jabs a finger in Jon’s direction. “You know I’m right.”

“I…” Jon trails off. After a moment, he hugs his arms to himself, his snubbed-out cigarette still smoldering slightly on top of the wall. “I know. But I… I still have to go. I… I’m still going to go.”

Tim exhales slowly and says, “Right. Suppose I should have expected that.”

There’s silence between them for a moment. Then, Jon removes his hands from his arms and signs as he says, quietly, “Why don’t you hate me?”

Tim stares at Jon for a long moment before saying, “What?”

Jon sighs and repeats, the motions of his hands larger and more emphatic, “Why don’t you hate me? Basira and Melanie, they- they keep looking at me like I’m some… thing, and- and maybe I am. No, not… not maybe. I’m not… I’m not human anymore, and I- I know what you said, but what happens when I—?”

Jon cuts off with a small, choked noise, like the air’s been sucked out of him all at once. Weakly, he signs, “I’m so hungry, all the time. What happens when I… when I can’t take it anymore? When I- I become dangerous, a- a monster, will you—?”

Jon’s fingers curl into fists, and he drops his hands to his sides, angling himself away from Tim and staring at an arbitrary point in the distance. “It’s better this way,” he says, loudly enough that Tim can make out the words above the hum of London at night and the ever-present ringing in his ears. “I… I don’t want to go. I don’t want to lose this, to- to lose you and- and Martin. But maybe it’s better than becoming something that will hurt you.”

Jon won’t meet Tim’s eyes. Carefully, Tim reaches across the space between them and takes Jon’s hand in his, uncurling Jon’s fingers gently in an attempt to release some of the tension. Slowly, he says, “You know, I… I shouldn’t be alive right now. Back after the Unknowing, when I woke up in the hospital, I… I didn’t want to be. It was supposed to be whatever it takes, and to me, that was always going to mean my death. Revenge and poetic justice and all of that. I should have died, but I didn’t. And… and you did. And it’s not something I feel guilty about, because we both made the same choice in the end, but that… that doesn’t stop me from feeling, sometimes, like it was my fault somehow.” He lets out a sharp laugh and says, “Well, I was the one to actually blow the place up in the end, but, you know.”

Tim holds Jon’s hand carefully in his like it might break otherwise, the mottled texture of the scar tissue firm against his fingertips. His eyes find the thin white line slashed across Jon’s throat, the stark white bandage poking out from the collar of Jon’s shirt where it covers a fresh scalpel wound in his shoulder, the pale pink spots that pepper Jon’s skin in a mirror image of his own. He can’t see the splash of jagged scars across Jon’s back, a memory of shrapnel and white-hot explosions, but he knows they’re there. “You asked why I don’t hate you?”

When Jon nods mutely, Tim says, “I just… ran out of reasons why I should. I still wanted to, but…” He shrugs and gives Jon a wry, humorless smile. “We’re all just stuck in the same shitty situation. And I guess at some point, I just decided that you hadn’t chosen to be here any more than I did.”

“Oh,” Jon says, barely audible.

Tim takes Jon’s other hand in his, squeezes them firmly, and says, “And I’m sorry. Not for- for how we used to be, because I think the blame for that falls pretty evenly onto both of our shoulders, but… but for everything else. For what’s happened to you. Figured I’ve spent enough time feeling sorry for myself, I might as well extend you the same courtesy.”

Jon’s fingers tighten around Tim’s, and he mumbles something Tim can’t quite catch. Then, he extracts his hands from Tim’s and signs, shakily, “I’m sorry too. For everything. But for what it’s worth, I… I’m glad you’re here. That you’re not dead. I- I know it’s been bad and- and I wish I could fix that, but I… I don’t know if I can.” Jon’s eyes when they meet Tim’s are sad but determined. “But I can fix this. I- I can get Daisy back. I can find my way out.”

Tim looks at the firm set to Jon’s mouth, the furrow of his brow, and says, “Okay. But I’m going to hold you to that. Otherwise, I might have to go in after you.”

Jon looks horrified. “Tim.”

Tim holds his hands up in a placating gesture. “Hey, come back in one piece and we won’t have to worry about it.”

Jon opens his mouth, then closes it again. There’s a long pause before he finally says, decidedly, “I will. I- I promise.”

Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Tim wants to say. Instead, he shuffles closer to Jon and leans against the wall again, crossing his arms on top of it and looking out over the city. “Good,” he says softly.

After a moment, Jon shifts to face the city as well. His arm brushes against Tim’s, and Tim lets that point of contact ground him as he looks up and up and up at the stars above, pinpricks of light on a satin black sky.

“Thank you,” Jon says, just loud enough for Tim to hear.

Tim moves his hand to cover Jon’s where it sits on the wall and squeezes once. “Yeah.”

They stand there until sunlight begins to tickle the edges of the horizon. And when Jon gives Tim’s hand one last squeeze, the other holding the lid of the coffin open, and says, “Be back soon,” Tim believes him.

Three days later, Jon climbs out of the coffin with dirt caked underneath his fingernails and a thin, sharp hand clutched in his. “Tim,” he says, and Tim ignores the pain in his leg as he lets his crutches drop to the floor and hugs Jon tightly.

“Looks like I’m staying above ground after all,” Tim jokes, his voice light even as his words come out wet and choked.

Jon’s laugh vibrates against Tim’s chest. “Yeah,” he says, burying his face in the fabric of Tim’s shoulder to hide his smile. “Yeah.”

#tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #tim stoker #martin blackwood #creators are revealed now so i can post this!#very exciting #blood cw #body horror cw #injury cw #hospitals cw #suicidal ideations cw #more cw in the body of the post as well #my writing #my fic

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