#in that scenario. and that is a very bare bones scenario. in most versions of this scenario he would hold out and find an alternative | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nat-20s · 3 years

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#10?

prompt 10- recognizing the other's voice in a crowded room

so uhh u didn't specify this being a pairing, and it ended up jonmartin lol

this is like? an au where one of the domains of the lonely (and also maybe stranger) plays off the specific loneliness that comes with parties. u kno the one, where you have fun for about an hour and then realize that you're fundamentally isolated and you need a breather?

anyway

~*~

Upon opening his eyes, he is not where he last remembers being. He is not sure how long his disorientation will last, but considering he's standing up right, at the edge of a crowded ballroom, he suspects it may be the entire time that he's here.

He had fallen asleep on the couch, the TV blaring away on a program he didn't know any of the details of. It hadn't mattered what was playing, as long as it had some of the natural rise and fall of other people speaking. He had been severely mising that lately, those gentle rhythms of conversation, and trying to listen to an audiobook while staring at his bedroom's popcorn ceiling just wasn't cutting it. So, TV dreaming it was.

Oh, that could be what was going on. An elaborate dream, constructed from the sound of a scenario he hadn't paid any attention to. He didn't think he'd fallen asleep watching anything to spark this kind of dreamscape, but that didn't mean much. It'd be oddly lucid, for a dream. And oddly sharp. His dreams, much like his memories, were always somewhat clouded over, and never as colorful as reality. Even his grayest waking days, of which there were many, had colors more distinct than what appeared in his mind's eye.

Simple test: he could never read or write in dreams. The words always swirled and distorted, and he somehow lost all manual dexterity. He needed a book, or a pencil, or both. He began to wander the ballroom, and abruptly realized that this was a masquerade, everyone wearing elaborate costumes with animal shaped masks. Did he fit in? Did he belong? He hoped he wasn't in what he fell asleep in, the worn hoodie and sweatpants barely worth making a grocery run in. The outside world wasn't supposed to see him looking comfortable, but presentable. He liked to think that if he left the apartment appearing at least somewhat put together, maybe people would believe that extended to other areas of his life. That it would be easier to ignore the increasingly dark circles under his eyes, that his nice sweater had been getting gradually looser as the tool of everything literally wore him down.

Small mercy, he wasn't like that now. A glance down showed that he was, like the rest of the guests? Captors? dressed to the nines. He has a suspicion that his own elaborate outfit, dark blues with gold and pearl embroidery, was a part of it. It was not a mercy to blend in here, it was a design element. Standing out would result in being noticed, being noticed meant being seen as an individual, and they can't have that.

It is with that line of thinking that he suddenly becomes aware of the weight of the mask on his face, the restriction of his sight through eyeholes. Looking into a teapot that's been polished to a mirrored shine, he see that he bears the incredibly crafted face of a field mouse. It would almost be plain, if it didn't have matching embroidery to his coat.

Fitting, he thought. It made him look smaller than he was, and he had so often wished to go unnoticed. A fly would've also worked, but he imagines it would be rather hard to make that into a suitably beautiful mask. Either way, he was level with the rest of the crowd. Even believing it to be part of the trick, even knowing that the masquerade was meant to make you false, there was some level of comfort to it. He was not going to be seen here. Instead someone more handsome, more charming, more even with his peers was allowed to take his place, as false as they were. Best of all, that's what all of them would be doing here, the whole appeal of a masquerade in leaving behind the person you loathe most and can never be free from.

Seems lonesome, for a party. So structured around the theater of it all. You can connect with countless people, and you don't get to actually connect with any of them at all.

Oh.

Oh, now this made all made sense. Crave interaction, and get a warped version of it.

He could see the napkins, emblazoned with a name that he didn't recognize, presumably the host, and, in much smaller font, the company name. Every one of them was consistent.

Easy enough to receive the message. This wasn't a dream. This was a punishment.

Hmm. Well, no, punishment might be the wrong term. Punishment implied that it was a consequence, a direct cause and effect of doing something wrong, by someone's definitions of "wrong". No this was. Torture is too strong of a word, and again, has the problem of making this seem willful. Deliberate. And maybe it was, but more likely, whatever this was had just sort of happened. A cruelty that comes with being in the universe they all happen to occupy.

This wasn't a dream. This was a consequence.

He doesn't know how to get out of here. He can't see any doors, and exits. The only approximation of one is some giant frosted glass that seem like they might lead to a balcony. They're only on the other end of the ballroom, but that lengths feels impenetrable, like it spans for miles and miles of harsh terrain.

There's a few options available to him.

One: Try to fall asleep, and see if he can get back to where he started. Lowest effort option, but he's pretty sure he hasn't been this fully awake in months. Maybe years. Something about the environment makes it feel as though electricity sparks throughout his entire body. It's an interesting sensation, certainly, akin to anxiety taken to an extreme degree, yet it's not particularly conducive to sleeping.

Two: Make a break for it. He doesn't know if there's anywhere to make a break for, but he also isn't sure how high up this place is. Maybe the balcony is a viable option for escape. Or maybe he'll find a door that had previously been hidden from him. Hell, maybe he won't fully escape, but he'll find somewhere quieter at the very least. Somewhere that he doesn't leave him so thoroughly dazed. This is probably the best option, even account for the wall of people surrounding him. But.

Option Three: Join the Dance.

Inadvisable. Foolish, really. The best outcome is..what? Is there a best outcome? Worst outcome is he's dancing forever, until his feet wear down to stubs of bone, until he dies, until he cant remember anything but the dance. Never a connection with any dancer, all of them, eventually, a blur of activity and nothing more.

Yet, it's what he's going to do. He's not the most curious person he knows, that honor goes to a man that he's been in love with for years, but can't grasp any of the details of while he's here. That can't be good. What was his name?

Anyway. He's not the most curious, but he's hardly immune to a detrimental sense of interest. He wants to know what the dance is like. He wants to see the intricate costumes of the others stuck here, and see if there's anything behind the masks. He knows it will, inevitably, leave him lonelier. He knows, inevitably, that he does not care. At least this version of loneliness is more interesting than sitting in his flat, wondering whether having thin enough walls to hear the echo of his neighbors' voices would make things better or worse. So, when someone approaches, adorned in a shrew mask, hand outstretched to pull him into the fervor, he accepts.

The dancer is competent. Neither of them steps on the others foot, and he lets himself be led. Even better, the dancer is willing to talk. A man named Tom, his voice cheerful even as he confirms that he doesn't know how he came here either. Tom shrugs when he asks if this bothers him, saying if you're going to end up somewhere mysteriously, gliding across a ballroom with a handsome stranger is hardly the worst place to be.

It takes a second for him to register the fact that Tom's flirting. It makes him laugh, and it feels wrong in his throat. The sound is unfamiliar, almost belonging to someone else, but it's brief enough not to hurt. He'll grieve all the time he's lost later, for now, he says, "How would you know if I'm handsome with this mask? Or are you just making a flattering guess?"

Tom opens his mouth to answer, a grin on his features that suggest something playful and wry is about to come out, but then the song ends. They both know, somehow, that the brief rapport they've gotten to enjoy has come to an end. They swap partners, and as much has he would like a second dance, when Tom gets swept into the throng, he knows he won't be seeing him again.

The next dancer is at a higher skill level at him, which results in nerves encroaching on what limited ability he has. Perhaps the peacock mask should've been a tip off. He doesn't speak to them, more focused on trying to keep up. He doesn't regret that they'll only have one dance, but he is slightly remiss that his own costume doesn't have feathers after watching the way they move.

The dancer after that catches him for a slow dance. Her name is Shelia, and he's never seen such a dazzling smile. He tells her as such, and she tells him that she would tell him the same, but she hasn't actually seen his own, yet. He makes an attempt, and she tells him, "Oh honey, you're waiting for someone here, aren't you?"

When he states his confusion, that nobody comes to mind, or at least, that nobody is going to come, she shakes her head. Apparently, she can always tell when her dance partners have somewhere else to be, and she doesn't resent it, but it does mean she's not going to give him her number for after the night ends. He's amazed she believes this night will end, but it's a sentiment that seems far too rude to voice out loud.

He also knows that he doesn't have somewhere else to be. If he did, he would've never joined in.

The music continues, and so does he. He tries to get names, tries to get connections. He flirts with Mark, and Nadia, and Jamie. Those people are his favorite during the dances, but losing the also feels the most acute. Robert is his least favorite, even more so than the peacock, for how incredibly small the fox makes him feel. Nothing is even said, it's just the entirety of body language screams that Robert doesn't think he belongs here, that he's not worthy of the clothes he's wearing or the hall he's haunting. Ironically, he's right. He doesn't belong here. These clothes, these people, are not his. Only Robert is quite so skilled at making that seem like a bad thing.

About ten dances in, long past the point he should be winded, he realizes two things. One, there's no pain in his feet, no heaviness to his breathing, confirming once again that no aspect of this environment is natural. Two, is that he's actually had a path. Sometime in the spins and leads and follows, he had been making his way towards the center of the floor. He denies the next partner, likely the worst of a faux paus in this environment, but he needs a moment to stop. Taking in the scene, he has yet to find the source of the music, but he has found the host of this party.

There's nothing to physically show that he's the host. His costume isn't particularly ostentatious, at least not compared to the rest of them. He's not surrounded by a horde of people clamoring for his attention. He doesn't glow or sparkle or have a spotlight on him. The only reveal of his status is the fact that the second he looks at the man in the owl mask, fear floods through him.

Now he needs to run. He needs to leave, he needs to get out, he can't let the man in the owl mask see him, let alone approach him. Pushing his way through the crowd is a bad idea, will bring too much attention to himself. However, he's not in a state to think about that sort of thing, panic gripping his actions. As he shoves his way past one person, he swears ten more people tke their place, and he, oh so close to despair, is unable to tell if there's any actual distance being put between him and the owl masked man.

As he's about to start biting, clawing, screaming his way out any way he can, he hears something that makes him stop.

"Let him go, or I will make you let him go."

The statement is cold, filled with vitrol and determination. It should only make him more afraid. But as he turns around, he sees someone he never expected to be here, someone who has come here anyway. In an all black outfit, the man's face is covered with that of a cat's, but he has not a single ounce of doubt as to who it is. And he's facing off against the owl man, the absolute fool. He's facing off against the owl man, and Martin knows that it's on his own account. What the hell? He can't...he doesn't know what's going to happen to him, what exactly the owl man is going to do, but he can't let Jon get hurt. Begging his voice to pierce through the pandemonium of people and noise, he calls out, "JON!"

Jon finds him in an instant, eyes locking. They only have a second before the crowd pushes in, before the owl man reaches out, wing-like cape ready to wrap Jon up and snatch him away. Jon simply calls out, "Balcony!" before he's once again out of sight. Martin wants to go towards him, wants to follow the instinct to try and protect the one he loves, but going forward is impossible.

The tempo and volume of the music has swollen, and he's surrounded by hands reaching out, trying to pull him in. One of those hands, much to his surprise, belongs to Tom. He stares, uncomprehendingly, and Tom shoves his hand out even further in an act of urgency. He has to participate to make progress.

He holds on tight, all the basic skill of their first dance lost. It doesn't matter, as long as Martin participates, he is rewarded. When the next song begins to play, Tom strengthens his grip, and they manage to prevent the switch. In a manner of minutes, or perhaps hours, they make their way to the edge of the crowd. Martin can see those beautiful frosted doors only about 10 meters away, mostly unobstructed, and releases Tom from their dance. "Thank you. I seriously didn't think..just, thank you."

Tom gives him a nod, his expression much more solemn than it had been during their initial meeting. "After our first dance, I remembered my kids. A daughter and son. If they're out there, wherever out there is, I need to get back to them. If you can get yourself out, maybe there's hope for the rest of us, yeah? I think you might be a tipping point."

Martin had no idea if that was true. Sounded a bit too..center of the story for him. The hero, the chosen one, he was never going to fufill those roles. But. But he doesn't know what a denial would serve, and if he can go through those doors, who knows? "Yeah...yeah, maybe. I'll certainly try."

Tom clasps one of Martin's hands between both of his own, and with a quick shake, tells him, "That's all I ask."

In a blink, Tom has once again been swallowed by the fray, and Martin strides to his goal. He catches glimpses of the owl man out of the corner of his eye. Despite the sight making his heart race, the owl man never makes it to him, almost as if the dancers had forcibly blocked his path. Fascinating, isn't it, how a crowd can turn against someone in a matter of moments. Fascinating, isn't it, how a crowd can decide to help someone in the same span of time.

As Martin stands in front of the exit to the balcony, he has to take a breath. This could be a trick. A trap. A cruelty. If it is, he'll deal with it. If not, well.

Well.

The doors are heavy, but he's still able to push them aside. The sight outside is incredible. The stars are dazzling, brilliant, and numerous, resembling themilky way that Martin has only ever seen in pictures.

It's wrong. It's obviously wrong. Martin's never been anywhere remote enough to escape the effects of light pollution, and he's pretty sure a brightly lit manor isn't the exception to that rule. Yet, that's not what's bothering him about it. He can't quite articulate why, but the sky in general should be..different. Worse, maybe. Greener?

Jon is staring up into the night sky with a fascination that confirms Martin's suspicion. After he takes a step towards him, Jon turns towards him, and a smile appears that knocks the breath right out of Martin. When has Jon ever smiled at him like that? It doesn't make sense, feels like another trick of the party, but Martin decides he doesn't care, he'll enjoy it while it lasts. "I have to say, this is definitely one of the nicer looking domains we've wandered through. Always a plus when we end up somewhere without any bloodstains."

That's not... "Huh?"

With an aftertaste of a laugh and a shrug of his shoulders, Jon tells him, "Just that, for as much as I despise the loneliness, it does at least have cleanliness going for it."

He knows of the fears, at least, but the way that Jon is talking about them doesn't make sense. He's going to ask about it, try to get some clarification, but then Jon takes off his mask. There's more grey at the temples than he remembers, more eyes than the average person, and he's stunningly beautiful. Martin's always found Jon rather good looking, even when he didn't particularly like Jon himself (god, what a fool he was. Maybe what a fool they both were). Combined with the softness in the line of his mouth, the adoration in his eyes, it leaves Martin breathless, speechless, thoughtless. Feet moving of their own accord, he drifts closer to Jon. Once he's standing in front of him, Jon reaches up, then pauses, as if asking for permission. Half in a daze, Martin nods, then leans down. Ever so gently, Jon lifts Martin's mask off. The pinpoints of contact between his face and Jon's fingers almost burn, and he realizes that despite the electrified sensation under his skin, he's been cold this entire time. Mask fully off, Jon beams at him, and lets out a quiet, "There you are."

It's too much. It's the tipping point for him to go from enamoured back to properly baffled. "Jon, I don't..what are you doing here?"

Jon smile drops, and Martin almost wants to take it back. Almost, because he needs answers, because if this is a dream, if this is a nightmare, it's more wicked than he could've ever expected. Being stuck forever in a dance with only partners whose greatest talents were being alone in a crowd is one thing, but having a..a false Jon, one that regarded him with...that acted like...that felt anything close to the same as Martin was so..exacting. When it got taken away, when the illusion shattered, it would hurt. It's already hurting, anticipation of the wound causing a phantom pain. Jon's brows are furrowed, and at least that is familiar, expected. "I..thought you would want to leave. I came to get you out."

"I do," did he?, "but that still..that's not the why? Why would you come for me?"

"Because I love you? I know I'm not much for the swashbuckling hero role, bit I figured that would make me rather uniquely qualified."

Martin sucks in a breath through his nose and his eyes go wide. Ability to read be damned, this is a dream, and mean one at that. He's going to wake up, and he's going to remember, and he's going to be as alone as he's always been. "Since when? You're not..I think we've just started being friends, and it's not even, fuck, we're not even that close! And even if..if things were in development, which they aren't, you're supposed to be in America right now. Or, no, wait you're in a coma, or maybe..no, that's not-"

Martin's spiralling is abruptly cut off by Jon taking his hands. Looking at his face, he finds Jon staring back, his eyes, his two eyes, are searching him, and Martin realizes he might not be the only one that's lost right now. "Martin...what's the last thing you remember?"

A mostly empty flat, the delightful mix of insomnia and exhaustion, and the TV with the volume turned down low enough to not bother anyone but himself. The context around that scene is a bit fuzzier. "I..was at my place. It was..I dunno, it was boring."

"Anything else. Do you remember Jane Prentiss?"

"Of course I remember Jane Prentiss. Not likely to ever forget the worst two weeks of my life."

"What about Scotland?"

Scotland? "I'm mean, I've never been, but I, uh, am aware of the concept."

Except that wasn't quite true, was it? He had been to Scotland, and Jon had been there, but when? Why? What had they..

Jon's frown deepens. "Martin, do you trust me?"

He did. Despite everything, or maybe because of an everything he couldn't quite access, he really, really did. His response of "Yes" is more of a breath than a word, but Jon understands nonetheless. Jon reaches up, places his hands on the sides of Martin's face, and tells him, "Close your eyes."

Martin does as told, and Jon brings their foreheads together, an approximation of a kiss. There's a buzzing at the base of his skull, not painful, but not particularly pleasant, either. As Jon leans back and he opens his eyes, the sky is wrong, but it is the wrong that he has become increasingly accustomed to.

He remembers.

Jon hasn't fully released him yet, asking still ever so gently, "Back with me?"

Martin nods, and Jon drops his hands. Immediately, Martin grabs one of them with his own, because while it may be the apocalypse, at least he can do that as freely as he likes. "Yeah, yeah, I'm good, " he looks down, and sighs, "Eugh. Do miss the clean clothes though."

Jon gives a hint of a smile, and as he begins to move forward. "Now you understand my point about the lonely having a tidiness to it."

"If it's all the same to you, I think I'll take grime over memory loss any day."

"Next domain is a corruption one, so we'll see how much that holds true."

"Of course it is."

They walk in silence for a few moments until Martin gives Jon's hand a quick squeeze. "Hey Jon?"

"Hmm?"

"Thank you for getting me out."

Jon replies, "Of course," as an easy statement of fact, and Martin believes it. He has to add, "And I love you too."

The responding smile he gets from Jon makes him think he might be one of the few people in existence to feel lucky after the end of the world.

#replies #fluff prompts #tma #jonmartin #martin blackwood #jon sims #anon

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yeojaa · 4 years

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finders keep hers, ii.

read parts one and three! continued because i have zero self-control and i love/hate these idiots and like ... i just wanna give people what they want. ty to @hobi-gif for always beta reading and you (yes, you!) for normal reading. i lob you! xo

ps. picture these versions of jimin, tae, yoongi, and jungkook.

pairing. jjk x (named) f!reader. rating. still explicit, lolz. tags. smut! a lil bit of pining! jealousy! also, cameos from the other boys, dirty talk, fingering, unprotected sex (be safe luvs!), and a bunch of other semi-vanilla things. wc. 4.3k.

“Who’s that?” Jimin means the pretty blonde that’s attached to your best friend, snug against his hip like some kind of conjoined monster - a distant relative to the thing that’s rearing its own ugly green head from its slumber in your chest.

“I don’t know.” Lie.

Because Jungkook’s been talking your ear off about her for the past three weeks, regaling you with details you’d rather not know. Like how she does yoga at the crack of dawn and he picks her up from every class. She, apparently, looks incredible in spandex and loves her green smoothies. Or how she went to private school in Belgium and she’s got - in his words - the cutest accent. He’s mimicked it once or twice, demonstrating how her vowels don’t round like a local’s would.

You’ve heard too much about her and it’s driving you crazy.

The angel at your side - because that’s what Jimin is, with his feather grey hair and rounded Cupid’s bow - takes a sip of his drink, studying you curiously over the Baccarat rim. You can see the curiosity swimming in his eyes, painted across his features in broad strokes.

You return his stare without blinking, silently daring him to say something. He knows better - considering he’s been your shoulder to cry on more than one weak-kneed, booze-laden occasion.

“Do you want to go upstairs?” Meaning the rooftop, away from the crowd that dominates the 44th floor penthouse.

You shake your head - a little motion that wiggles your bangs free from behind your ears - and take a generous sip of the Veuve that bubbles about in your champagne flute. You’re not celebrating anything - this is just how Jungkook parties. With bottles and strangers and deep bass thrumming so loudly you can feel it chatter your teeth.

Another sip and your glass is empty. “No.” You seize another from the bar you’re both leaning against, wondering idly whether it’s your third or fourth or maybe even seventh glass. You’d lost count about thirty minutes ago when Jungkook had strolled in with her on his arm, clothes dishevelled and that stupid grin on his face.

Of course he’d been late to his own party and of course he was sporting a lipstick stain on the collar of his otherwise pristine white Oxford.

“You sure?” You know Jimin means well but you can’t stand the heat of his stare or how it feels like pity digging itself beneath your bones. You don’t need - nor want - his sympathy. Not now.

“Yes,” you snap more harshly than you mean to. A wounded animal lashing out, biting the hand that feeds it.

Luckily, Jimin knows you - has, for nearly the last decade - and he takes it in stride. Chin bounces, the smallest of smiles offered in penance for his pushiness. He doesn’t need to apologize and really, he shouldn’t, but he’s Park Jimin and he’s far too kind so he does it anyway.

“I’m going to hunt down some snacks. If you need me, just come find me.”

It feels infinitely worse when he presses a kiss to your temple and disappears into the throng of people, leaving you alone with the thoughts that buzz around in your head (or maybe that’s just from the liquor).

“Replaced, huh?” You’d recognize that voice anywhere. It rings in your ears when you’re trying to work, forcing its way into your skull when you’re twenty sheets deep in Excel fixing some junior’s mistake. You hear it more often than you like, both in the office and when you least expect it.

You barely turn to acknowledge the broodingly handsome brunet who has seemingly materialized out of thin air. You don’t need to turn to him to see how good he looks, all carefully tousled hair and that self-assured smile.

“What’re you talking about?” It’s easier to play dumb than to play directly into his hand. You’d learnt that ages ago. Kim Taehyung was a force to be reckoned with.

“Look.” A hand lands on your jaw, none-too-subtly guiding your stare in the direction you’d been so adamantly turned away from. Jungkook and his flavour of the week are locked in a fight to see who can eat each other’s face more thoroughly, tongues so far down the other’s throat that you feel your own gag reflex kick up. “Shouldn’t you be over there?”

Concern flares, streaking heat across your cheeks. How did he know? “What?”

There’s a twinkle in his eyes, mischief dancing in his irises as he studies you, fingers burning impossibly warmer over your skin. “You’re best friends, aren’t you? Why’re you standing here by yourself?”

You almost laugh, relief crashing over you with enough force to knock a breath from your lungs.

“Tae, leave her alone.” It’s your knight in shining armour - or finely woven Saint Laurent cashmere, in this case - a Manhattan in hand and a scowl on his face. You thank your lucky stars, not bothering to conceal the smirk you shoot at the reprimanded playboy.

“Yeah, Tae. Leave me alone.”

He doesn’t need to be told a third time, though he levels both you and your saviour with a narrowed stare. It stirs something uncomfortable in the pit of your stomach, like a snake uncoiling and preparing to strike. You think he might say something - you can see him playing through the scenarios in his head - but he thinks better of it at the last second, draining his beer and turning away without another word.

You watch Taehyung’s crown of inky hair disappear among the crowd. It’s only once his loudly patterned Burberry shirt is out of sight that you swivel your gaze to the man at your side. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” That distinct gummy smile fills his expression. It looks good on him - but then again, most things do. With his perfectly mused strands - currently a flattering shade of teddy bear brown and honey blonde - and observant feline features, Min Yoongi is handsome in a way that sneaks up on you, dressing himself in shadows and presenting it at the strangest times.

Like now, for instance, when you’re growing tired of watching your best friend act like a high school freshman.

“You okay, though?”

“Why - do I not look like it?”

You don’t miss the way his attention drags lazily over your features and then, almost pointedly, down the lissome column of your frame. How he pauses appreciatively where wine spills over cream, the mulberry silk of your wrap dress standing in stark contrast to the porcelain of your skin. It ties neatly at the smallest point of your waist - a gift begging to be torn apart.

Something crackles between you. You’re not sure where it is or where it starts but it fizzles, bright white and dangerous. A livewire you’re suddenly very eager to inspect.

“I’d say you look more than okay,” he returns dryly, in that low timbre of his.

You feign surprise, lashes fluttering like a schoolgirl. “Are you flirting with me, Yoongi?”

It’s a testament to his confidence - that lazy swagger that fits itself into the slope of his jaw, the soft shape of his mouth, the inescapable focus of his stare - when he advances a step. There’s already hardly any space between you but he eats it up like a starved predator, crowding you with ease.

“Do you want me to be?” The bitterness of whiskey fans across your face, creeping heat over your cheek and up the delicate shell of your ear. The scent of his cologne follows - distinctly masculine and reminiscent of the sea.

“Are you answering a question with a question?” You know it isn’t what he’s looking for but you offer it anyway, paired with a taunting smile and a coquettish turn of your head.

His jaw pulls almost imperceptibly; it’s only your close proximity that gives away the thrumming muscle. Something entices you to reach out - frustration or, more likely, the bottomless champagne - and you do, the pad of your thumb soothing over the tension. You don’t expect him to lean into your touch and you nearly retreat when he does.

The flat of his own hand rises, piano-honed fingers threading easily between yours. There’s a different kind of smile presenting itself now, reckless at the edges and dressed in an unspoken challenge. He presses it wordlessly into your palm, edge of enamel catching on the baby soft underside of your hand.

You feel the livewire now. It’s a flash of lightning, searing a billion volts through every limb.

It’s a surprise that you find your voice so easily, though it comes reedy and vaguely out of breath. “That’s a yes.” You’re mimicking the motion of his mouth, dragging your own lip through the cage of your teeth. He watches, unblinking.

Crystal rim replaces the warmth of your hand as he drains the amber liquid in a single motion, nearly slamming the glass down beside you. You’d turn to make sure it’s not in a million little pieces - but you’re far too distracted by the softness of his lips, how he tastes strongly herbaceous and smokey.

The first thought to your mind is that Min Yoongi kisses nothing like Jeon Jungkook.

The second, well - that’s stolen away, disappearing into a haze of desire when he sweeps the wet muscle of his tongue across your bottom lip. He does it once then repeats the motion with an addendum of enamel, turning his polite request into a gentle demand you’re all too willing to meet.

Broad, soft palms find the shape of you beneath your dress, one gliding easily over silk to rest comfortably across the swell of your hip while the other ascends in tandem, finding a home over the column of your throat. There’s no aggression in the way he moves and claims you. He trades force for grace, threading passion where his tongue swipes and his teeth mark.

It’s a slow burn rather than a raging inferno - scorched earth following a thunderstorm.

Yoongi’s touch is deliberate, each stroke of skin over skin meant to entice you. He does it well, with practiced ease - a sweep of his thumb over the hidden lace of your bra, the press of his fingers into the sensitive softness of your neck.

Even how he devours you whole is measured, calculated. He isn’t an overeager teenager looking for a quick fuck; he wants to indulge like a king at his last feast.

“You taste good,” he hums against your lips, bitten cherry red and glossy with his spit. “Look so pretty, too.”

Praise from Yoongi doesn’t come often so you bask in it, delirium and liquor painting your smile unabashed. It pulls low and slow, spilling like stars into the darkness of your eyes, the black of your pupils that devour the iris whole.

“You haven’t even tasted the sweetest part.”

It comes crashing out of your mouth like a freight train, dressed in champagne-fueled salaciousness and paired with fluttering lashes. A part of you wonders whether you’re being too forward but at this point, you can’t bring yourself to care. Between the alcohol and his touch, you’re drunk in more ways than one.

He doesn’t seem to mind, though. Not if his grin says anything, framed in danger and delight. It’s a heady mixture - an aphrodisiac in the form of a person’s smile. “Have to fix that then, don’t we?”

You’re ready to take him up on it - ready to do a lot of things, frankly - when a voice presents itself just beyond Yoongi’s shoulder.

“Fix what?”

Of course it’d be Jungkook.

You turn your attention to him first - you can feel Yoongi’s heavy-lidded stare trained on you when you pull away, when the warmth of your body retreats just enough that you can focus on something other than the overwhelming desire that sparks between the two of you.

Your best friend is standing not three feet away, arms folded over his chest in a way that reads like a surly nightclub bouncer or a begrudging boss. It’s nothing like the sunny radiance he normally wears - a byproduct of being rich and handsome and far too charming for his own good. You’re curious whether it’s the alcohol - you can see it still, swimming in his eyes and turning them hazy - or the fact that blondie isn’t at his side. Had she left him to fend for himself and now he was taking it out on you?

He repeats himself when neither you nor Yoongi answer, an edge to his voice you don’t expect.

“Nothing.” You, again, speak first. You don’t miss the way your answer sounds more like coddling, sweeping reassurance off your tongue.

Yoongi retreats a step, turning on his heel enough to position himself partially facing both you and Jungkook. At this angle, you study his profile, trying to find the ways emotion fits among his features. It’s a lost cause, though - he’s always had an incredible poker face.

“I was just saying her belt was a bit—” You catch the mischief that pulls the corner of his mouth high, revealing pink gums. “—loose.”

A sharp inhale follows immediately after. You don’t even realize it’s you until Jungkook is speaking, expression set and muscle pumping in his jaw. You’d think it was hot if it weren’t so goddamn uncomfortable. “Yeah?”

Sweet Yoongi is utterly unbothered, nonplussed as he adjusts the timepiece on his wrist. “Yeah.”

Watching the two interact is akin to sitting front-row at Wimbledon, your gaze bouncing between the two men like they’re whipping a fluorescent yellow ball between them. It’s so unbearable you have to remind yourself that they’ve been friends for years.

“I’m heading out,” Yoongi says, rather abruptly. He sounds almost bored, training his focus back on you for these last few moments. “Call me.”

You nod dumbly, watching his retreating back with an equally dumb look on your face.

“What the hell was that?” Jungkook’s taken up his hyung’s place, dangerously close and with a sour expression on his face. You almost want to make fun of him for it - how he looks like he’s just sucked on an underripe lemon. When he levels you with that look, though, you think better of it. Time and place and all that.

You don’t meet his eyes. “Was what?”

“That.”

The same edge presents itself again. It mixes with something you can’t place, colouring his words an alarming shade of red that has your brow furrowing and mouth following suit. You don’t appreciate the tone and you say as much, finally meeting his stare with defiance burning away the residual liquor in your system. “None of your business.”

Whatever he’d been expecting, this isn’t it. Brows shoot high, tongue rounding the interior of his cheek. You’d recognize that look anywhere. It’s the look that always gets him what he wants.

Which is why, once he’s abruptly kicked all of his guests out - to a chorus of boos and what the hells! - you’re on your back in the middle of his living room. Your dress - the poor, beautiful thing - lies in a heap somewhere in the kitchen, possibly caught across the back of one of his bar stools, and his clothes act like a trail of breadcrumbs leading from the front door. Shirt, pants, socks.

All he’s left in is black Calvin Klein boxer briefs. It complements your own La Perla bra well - all delicate lace and macrame.

“Say it again,” he demands from between your legs, knees hooked over his shoulders as he coaxes you to another orgasm. One shapely forearm rests across your hip, pressure heavy on your abdomen as you clench pathetically around his fingers. He’s tapping a near brutal rhythm against your g-spot, curling two fingers within you until you’re seeing stars and too fucked-out to remember what you’re supposed to be saying.

Jungkook has no sympathy, though.

He repeats himself with gravel in his throat, pad of his thumb ghosting over the sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs. You tremble with each pass, seeking more friction; your back is arching with delirious need, hips rolling of their own accord. It’s almost inconsequential against the weight of him.

“Say it,” he barks - a petulant child demanding a toy.

“You’re better!” It’s more a broken shriek, a sob that wrenches forth and fits lamely with the words he so desires. It almost isn’t good enough but he thinks he’s dragged this on long enough. He hasn’t even had his fun yet and you’re already shaking with oversensitivity.

“Better than who?” The question comes in a warm breath that has you bucking toward the source - or trying to, at least. You’re so needy he can’t help but laugh - a far cry from your usual too-good-for-cuddling self - the sound muffled by the slick that coats your thighs and drips down your slit, making the sweetest mess.

“Than anyone.”

He tuts, withdraws his fingers from your obscenely wet walls, and studies the strands that connect them. Pink tongue glides over his index before he’s slotting both digits against his cheek, indulging in the taste of you. If he weren’t so focused on the conversation at hand, he’d be drinking directly from the source. “Not just anyone, baby.”

You look almost shy - or at least as shy as you can look with your throat and shoulders painted with bruises and bites, chest heaving.

“Than Yoongi.”

“Don’t you forget it, sweetheart,” he coos, so kindly you almost forget about the merciless edging he’s just done, bringing you to the precipice of bliss before ripping it away.

You seek him out - the kiss-swollen shape of his mouth, the unyielding contours of his back - like you need him, like your trembling touch might coerce him into giving you what you want. You kiss him as if you’re hoping to distract him, granting him a sexpot moan when you lose the hard fought war of tongue and teeth. He thinks you think he won’t notice when you begin rutting against him, desperately seeking relief against the hard curve of his cock.

The devilish side of him wants to call you out on it but it feels a little too good, your cunt soaking through the thin cotton of his briefs.

“Someone’s needy.” He bows above you, shoulders rounded to crowd you deeper into the couch cushions, and purrs the words directly into your ear, punctuating them with sharp, unrelenting glides of his teeth.

You snap with far less malice than you intend and far more desperation than you want. “Shut up.”

“Watch it.” This time, it’s punctuated by a sharp slap against your clit. You jolt beneath him, a long drawn out whine his reward. “Don’t you want me to let you come, baby?”

“Not if you’re going to be an asshole about it.” He’d probably believe you more if you weren’t breathless and still, perhaps subconsciously, grinding yourself up against him.

“I’m the asshole?” The way Jungkook says it makes you bristle. “You were the one making out with one of my friends.”

“I’m not your girlfriend!”

“So what? Doesn’t mean you’re allowed to do that.”

And that’s when it hits you like a ton of bricks. It crashes into your feeble rib cage, a fast ball meeting its mark with perfect precision. Your heart thumps pathetically before folding in on itself - a catcher’s mitt for his cruel words.

You don’t know what you’d expected. You know your relationship and all the things it isn’t.

(You still hadn’t asked where his latest playmate had disappeared off too - you’d been too busy with his head buried between your legs.)

So you try to ignore the tears that block your vision, how suddenly all you can taste is saltwater. The most you can do is squeeze your eyes shut, grinding your molars into a fine powder with the tension in your jaw. Now is not the time.

“Fuck you.”

He laughs, dismissive and amused. The Calvin Klein band now sits halfway down his thighs, his swollen head tapping experimentally on your equally swollen clit. He’s not even looking at you - far too interested in the way your essence coats his length.

“That’s what we’re doing, baby.”

Even when he speaks, he’s still staring down at the apex of your thighs, pressing the tip of his aching cock between your lips. You take him so well, your walls burning around the unrelenting, slow press of his hips. He’d fuck you every day if you’d let him. You’d actually tried it once, for a week, when your office had a round of layoffs and your stress was at an all-time high.

“God, you’re so fucking wet.” It’s praise he offers often, always far too pleased with the way you ruin your underwear. “Is this all for me?”

It’s hard to stay mad at him when he’s filling you up like this. Still, you try, holding hostage the sounds you know he likes to hear. You swallow them, biting down so hard on your bottom lip that it throbs.

He doesn’t like that very much - burying himself to the hilt in a single thrust to elicit some sort of response. “I asked you a question.”

You can’t deny him.

A moan bounces around in your mouth, forced out when he pulls out nearly all the way and snaps back in, balls smacking lewdly against your ass. He’s got your legs propped up over his shoulders, thighs spread wide as he watches your pussy stretch around his cock. You’re folded nearly in half and his palms span your hips - perfect for him to hold you in place and fuck into you at a relentless pace.

At this angle, his cock brushes the sensitive spot against your pelvic wall. It’d be too much on its own, but he knows this position well and grinds down against you every time he pistons in. The stimulation against your clit is otherworldly, bringing you right back to the edge like flipping a switch.

“What was that?”

“I-i-it’s all for you.” You’re stuttering either because he’s bouncing you on his dick so well or because you’re about to come. Maybe both. He likes that.

“That’s right.” He maintains a firm grip on your side with a single hand, the other reaching to palm roughly at your breast. You’re already straining against the delicate fabric of your bra - he hardly has to do anything but tweak and pinch your bud and you’re clawing at his own chest, manicured nails seeking to do the same to him.

You miss your mark once or twice - you’re having troubles keeping your attention focused on anything but the tension in your core - but when you do, you’re rewarded with a stutter of Jungkook’s hips.

“Do that again,” he pants, resuming his unrelenting pace.

You tweak his nipple sharply, soothing one then the other with a pass of your thumb. The sensation starts in his belly, an electroshock in his groin that has him growling, the sound reverberating out of his chest with great need. He shifts, reclining back on his muscular calves as he peers down at your blissed out face and pretty, messy cunt.

He’s desperate for release, your fluttering walls far too wet and warm around him. “You wanna come, sweetheart?” While he asks, he doesn’t need an answer - he’ll get you there anyway.

Subtly adjusting his position, he drags one of your legs to join the other, both now propped against his left shoulder. He keeps a commanding grip on your hip with that same hand; his right snakes between your legs, seeking out the pearl of pleasure that’s all of a sudden assaulted with far too much pressure (from his hand and your own clenching thighs and what feels like a million other things).

He can feel the tremors before they present themselves in your legs, the tightening in your pussy mimicking the way your hand fists over his heart. There’ll be angry red lines for days to come - a literal x marks the spot on his otherwise unblemished honey skin.

“Come on, baby,” he croons, encouraging as always as he thumbs your clit in gentle, repetitive motions and fucks into you so hard and deep you can hardly breathe.

Your face screws into an expression of euphoria, mouth rounding as the coil snaps and ecstasy surges through your veins. It’s like an explosion of colour - fireworks igniting you from the inside out - and you’re crying, the fourth orgasm of the night swallowing you whole. You’re squeezing him so tight it almost hurts.

It’s so utterly hot that he finds his own high effortlessly, your walls milking him for all he’s worth. He spills inside you - thank fucking god for IUDs - and fucks his cum deeper, riding out his release until he feels himself softening. He gently removes your legs from his shoulders, pressing a surprisingly chaste kiss to your ankle as he pulls out and settles beside you.

Even your little mewl of displeasure can’t deter him when he pushes two fingers past your swollen lips, gathering up the cum that’s spilling out and pushing it back in. At least he’s gentle, offering another kiss - this time to your hip bone.

“Stay the night?” He seldom asks. You always say no.

This time you don’t and he carries you to his bedroom, your face hidden against his neck. You’re left on his neatly made bed as he draws a bath - something he’s done a handful of times throughout the decade and a half friendship you’ve shared, knees pressed together and exhausted.

When he comes back and picks you up, you nearly miss what he says. It’s almost lost to the soothing scent of lavender and the sound of running water.

“Don’t do it again.”

You’re not sure what he means when he says that. You’re too afraid to ask so you say nothing. He doesn’t repeat himself either, instead leaving you on the edge of his tub with a fluffy white bathrobe and a kiss to your forehead.

Somehow, that’s even worse.

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t4tlawlight · 3 years

Text

YOU'RE AN AVENGER, A DEATH ANGEL. YOU KILL PEOPLE WHO ASK FOR IT, WHO DESERVE TO DIE. YOU'RE A WATCHDOG, A PROTECTOR OF THINGS DECENT. YOUR COMFORTS ARE SACRIFICED FOR EFFICIENCY -- YOU CAN'T DO WHAT HAS TO BE DONE WITH PEOPLE MOANING AND CLINGING TO YOU, YOU CAN'T STRIKE WITH POSSESSIONS WEIGHING YOU DOWN. YOU HAVE A CLEAR HEAD AND NO REGRETS. YOU CAN TAKE OUT ANYONE BECAUSE YOU'RE STRIPPED DOWN AND YOU DON'T DEPEND ON OR TRUST A SOUL. YOU ARE EFFECTIVE BECAUSE YOU DON'T LOVE ANYBODY OR ANYTHING. YOU'RE A ONE- MAN FORCE, THE PERFECT INSTRUMENT OF DESTINY.

– "INFLAMMATORY ESSAYS 5" by Jenny Holzer

(this is a companion piece to Love and Belonging, my early drama light analysis! [LINK] i heavily recommend reading it before continuing this analysis, as i reference events and ideas explained in that post.)

in my previous analysis of drama light, i focused on the events that led him to become the man we see in the beginning of the drama: a gentle, kind man who is underachieving but still brilliant, who takes a maternal role in his household after the death of his mother. This is all crucial to understanding Light’s character in the drama and how the events leading up to him becoming Kira change in line with his altered characterization, but that analysis only barely skimmed the surface of Light’s character development throughout the drama, and especially after L’s death.

the drama fandom--including me!--is somewhat guilty of making blanket statements about drama light’s morality as opposed to his manga counterpart, that drama light is kinder and gentler in comparison to manga light. this may be true early on, but i would argue that as the series progresses, drama light willingly and deliberately throws away his love and humanity just as much--if not more!--than his manga counterpart.

to understand what i mean it’s important to compare light’s relationship with his father between the adaptations.

in the manga, light grows up idolizing his father, loving and admiring him and wanting to follow in his footsteps as a police officer. his morality that leads to him ultimately becoming Kira comes from Soichiro, as does his dissatisfaction with the world as he sees his father work himself to the bone trying to eradicate crime that seems to never end.

there’s a lot more that can be said about the nature of their relationship and about how Light desperately seeks his father’s approval, but instead of typing out an entire analysis i’ll link you to this post by tumblr user mikami [LINK], which is a very good analysis of the two of them in the manga.

conversely, in the drama Light begins much the same, but Soichiro choosing to chase a criminal instead of being by his wife’s deathbed--leaving his children to witness their mother’s passing alone--strains Light’s relationship with him. Light has much of the same morals and worldview as manga Light, but now believes that his father’s morality is more or less worthless, since he had to give up his family to pursue justice.

Light: When my mother died when I was a kid, my father was off chasing a criminal… I thought my father’s form of justice couldn’t be worth much, if he had to sacrifice even his family to see it through.

– Episode 7

however, it’s important to note that while Light is cold with his father and resents his occupation, that does not mean that Light does not still love and idolize his father. he wants his father’s love and support, and he cares as deeply for him as does his manga counterpart. in fact, drama light only becomes kira out of a desire to protect his father--after his first, accidental murder, he throws away the Death Note and tries to forget about it. however, his father is taken hostage by a criminal who intends on seeking revenge for Soichiro putting him in jail years ago, and Light is forced to retrieve the note and write the criminal’s name to protect his father.

[photo: a zoomed in shot of the Death Note. Light is writing the name “Otoharada Kuro” in Japanese. the penmanship is shaky and nearly illegible from how hard Light’s hand is trembling.]

– Episode 1

Light is literally shaking with terror as he writes the name of the man about to kill his father.

and this is not something Light does lightly--after he saves his father and it’s announced that Otoharada is dead, Light is absolutely stricken with guilt and horror for murdering two people, including the man who was about to kill his father. he saved his father’s life at the price of another, because he loves his father--and his entire family--very deeply.

it’s also worth noting a slight difference between the manga and the drama; after the mock execution, drama Soichiro admits that he believed Light could be guilty and was prepared to die. Light--who at this point has no memory of being Kira and thus completely believes himself to be wrongly accused--does not blame his father for not trusting him. Light, who desperately wants his father’s approval, does not blame him in the slightest: instead, the subject of his anger is Kira himself for putting Soichiro in this position and making Soichiro suffer.

Light: I… I hate Kira. Kira, who made you suffer this way… I hate him so much. Soichiro: Light… Light: Please catch him. I believe that you can catch Kira, Dad.

[photo: Light and Soichiro in an abandoned parking garage. the two of them are crouching beside Soichiro’s car. Soichiro is hugging Light, who weakly raises his hands to hold his father in return.]

– Episode 6

the two of them embrace and weep before collecting themselves and returning to Countermeasures.

by this point in the story, it’s obvious that both versions of Light love Soichiro very much. Light is creating his “new world” for the good of humanity but also for the people he loves the most--his family.

later, the emotional death of manga Light comes after the passing of his father, which he never wanted nor planned for. he never wanted Soichiro to be in a position to get hurt and he is never, ever the same after Soichiro's death, especially because he never gains his father’s approval for his actions as Kira--in fact, Soichiro leaves him with an outright rejection of Kira entirely.

[panel 1: a close up of Soichiro’s eye. he looks like he’s in pain. the speech bubble above his head reads, “I still have the eyes. And according to that Shinigami… Ryuk, I can’t see the lifespan of someone who owns a notebook.

panel 2: Light is standing above his father’s prone body. Matsuda stands behind him, bandages on his face and arms. Soichiro continues, “Light, you’re not Kira… I’m so glad…” Light looks shocked in response, a speech bubble above his head reading only “!” Matsuda says, “O-of course he isn’t! You were still worried about that?"]

the fact that Light can never gain that approval leads to him becoming incredibly dissatisfied and simply going through the motions--it’s what leads to him treating other people like cogs in a machine that will listen to him without any free will of their own, which is what makes him not foresee that Mikami might take action of his own accord. this is how Light gets caught in the end.

in the drama, however, Light experiences more than just his father’s rejection. Soichiro confronts Light directly about being Kira, catching him in the act. this is, of course, Light’s worst case scenario--he does virtually everything he can to lie his way out of it, to get his father back on his side, but fails. Soichiro acknowledges the fact that it was his fault that Light turned out this way, and also that he failed to notice that Light was suffering up until now--and then begs Light to turn himself in, in a scene that echoes L’s confrontation with Light from a couple of episodes prior.

when Light refuses, Soichiro begins to write his own name in the book.

Light: No way. Dad… Stop it. Dad! Stop it! Dad! Soichiro: There’s a struggle going on in your soul right now, isn’t there? That’s what it means to take someone’s life. That’s the weight of a human life. Do you understand, Light? Light: If this suffering is the real thing, I really can’t forgive criminals. I realized it, Dad. Even someone like me… There’s something even I can do to serve the world. Soichiro: How does killing people serve the world?! Light: I’ve sacrificed a lot of things, too! You of all people must understand how I feel! We’re working for the same thing. To protect the peace for everyone. With that notebook, I can create a world without crime! I’m just like you! Soichiro: You’re wrong. Open your eyes, Light. Come back, Light.

– Episode 10

with this ultimate rejection of Light’s actions, Soichiro finishes writing his name and Light allows him to do so. it isn’t as though Light couldn’t have stopped him if he really wanted to, either; on one level, turning himself into the police as Soichiro requested would have saved his father. on another, we see him rip the Death Note from Soichiro’s dying hands moments later as his father attempts to burn the book. Light is perfectly capable of saving the book and only acts when the Note is in danger, not his beloved family member.

of course, we never see manga Light exactly in this position, either, and I can’t say that I think that manga Light would have turned himself in or physically ripped the Note from Soichiro’s hands. both Lights did virtually everything they could to never be in a situation where they had to choose between the safety of their family members and being Kira, and I doubt manga Light would have done well emotionally with Soichiro outright rejecting him, his actions, and his ideology.

however, their actions and behavior immediately after Soichiro’s death is extremely telling. when manga Light is rejected by his father, who died as a result of a plan gone awry, he is completely devastated.

[photo: a panel of Light Yagami screaming over his father’s body. tears are running down his face, and he yells, “Dad! Dad! Don’t you die, damn it!”]

he sheds tears--which are rare for manga Light--and he mourns over his father’s dead body for quite some time. as i said previously, he is never the same man again after his father’s death.

drama Light sheds tears as Soichiro writes his name and is clearly upset by his passing, but his mourning period is immediately interrupted by desperation to get the Note back. he spends Soichiro’s last moments wrestling with him for the Note, and once his father collapses he takes the note, wild-eyed, and holds it to his chest protectively. in this instant, he cares more about the safety of the book than his dead parent--because he had just chosen the notebook, and being Kira, over his father.

after Soichiro’s funeral, Light thinks this:

Light [internally]: Dad really did open my eyes. If I am to become a God, sacrifices are inevitable. No matter who it is that pursues Kira, I will erase them.

– Episode 10

this is Light implicitly saying that sacrificing his family members--sacrificing Soichiro, the man he began killing in order to save--is inevitable if they oppose Kira. of course, this is very similar to the way that manga Light distances himself from Soichiro after Soichiro’s death, to save him from the hurting that it caused him.

[photo: a panel of Light Yagami’s face, zoomed in close so we can only see one eye, his nose, and most of his mouth. He is scowling, most of his eye cast in shadow, and he’s sweating and panting. He asks, “Dad? Are you talking about Soichiro Yagami?”]

of course, all of this begs the question of how drama Light--who began a sweet, gentle boy who was more or less coerced into using the Death Note to begin with--got to a place that even manga Light didn’t have the chance to get to, where he was more willing to save the Death Note than his own father. it’s important to consider another relationship that drama Light has that’s much different from manga Light’s--his relationship to L.

manga light respects L's intelligence and sees him as an equal, as entertainment at times, but he doesn’t like him. not even during yotsuba arc, where they’re ostensibly on the same side--in fact, i would say yotsuba Light has more reason to dislike L, seeing as though he believes L to be falsely accusing him and having tortured him for virtually no reason. they're not actually friends--it’s a manipulation tactic. moreover, L sees him the same way. they were not friends and they both intended on killing each other until the bitter end.

by comparison, drama light and L's relationship starts that way--with the two of them wanting to kill each other, with a pretense of friendship that is actually an excuse to get close to each other to try and test for weaknesses--but the difference is that they, well, fall for their own bullshit. during yotsuba arc, Light’s memories are rewritten in such a way that he believes that L and light are genuinely on friendly terms, and L finds himself over the course of the arc going from respecting Light’s talents and thinking him as something interesting to genuinely wanting him to not be Kira and seeing him as a friend.

if you want to know more about L’s thought processes during the series and specifically the blue scene I recommend reading my analysis about him [LINK] but what is important to note is that L does not want to kill Light anymore by the time episode 8 rolls around. like Soichiro later will, he attempts to convince Light to confess--with the intention, we later find out, to potentially give him a way out. of course, Light doesn’t understand this and believes, for the moment, that it’s a fight to the death--so he writes L’s name in (what he believes to be) the Death Note.

this is intrinsically different from the way Light kills L in the manga. manga Light convinces someone else to do the dirty work and he is absolutely gleeful when L dies, gloating over his dying body--but up until this point L has made manga Light’s life an absolute hassle and expressed time and time again that he intends on executing Kira, who he believes to be Light. L wants to kill him, and they are not friends. while drama Light also believes it’s a “me-or-him” situation, he cannot deny that he actually likes L, that he wanted to be friends with him--he wanted, like Soichiro, for L to accept him and to be a part of the world Kira would create.

[photo: Light, cast in blue light, is bent over double. we’re looking at his face from below, from L’s point of view on the floor. his face is contorted with grief, face wet with tears and spit. He says, “I’d have wanted to be your friend forever.”]

– Episode 8

these are what Light believes to be his last words to L, so he has no reason to lie. he’s weeping as he says it, seeming absolutely heartbroken. this is the first time that Light kills--or attempts to kill--someone he cares about, and it’s the moment he decides to throw his humanity away. if he hadn’t cared so deeply for L before deciding to kill him, I don’t think the scene with Soichiro would have played out quite the same. Light even says it himself right before he writes L’s name:

Light: I can’t afford to lose to you. I’m creating a perfect world, without crime. To see that happen, I… L: Light… Light: I… I’ve decided there’s nothing I won’t do!

– Episode 8

these words are immediately followed by Light attempting to kill L. this is the fundamental moment that Light throws away his humanity, literally deciding that he would do anything for his new world, including killing his friends if they stand in his way. this culminates in him letting his father die and ripping the Note from his hands. he believes that the ends justify the means and that this is the only option he has.

it’s important to note that it isn’t that Light stopped loving his father, or stopped liking L--it isn’t that he lacks guilt over their deaths. it’s exactly the opposite. while their deaths--and the deaths of the Countermeasures team that he planned to take place, as well as the FBI and countless other people--are a necessary evil in order to make the world a better place, Light has to absolutely jump through hoops to justify it to himself and compartmentalize the guilt. as I said earlier, Light saying that Soichiro’s death was inevitable is a way to distance himself from the pain and guilt and rejection he feels, but as he’s dying that guilt cracks back open wide. when he sees that the Death Note is on fire, he panics and begins crawling towards it.

Light: Not yet. I can still do more. If I give up now… What was it all for?

– Episode 11

this is immediately followed by a flashback to Soichiro’s death, where Soichiro questions him about how killing people serves the world--after he crawls a little further, he flashes back again to L, recalling L’s desire to be friends with him.

these flashbacks go to show that Light feels a deep and profound guilt for killing both of them. he’s justified and rationalized it to himself as being for the good of the world--he chose being Kira over both of their lives. however, this means that if Kira fails, if he dies and the world goes right back to the way it was, then all of it was for nothing. he gets himself into a situation where he has to keep killing and killing people he cares about because if he stops then it means that all of it was for nothing.

it’s honestly an incredibly sad situation, that someone so full of kindness would become ultimately cold-hearted in an effort to cope with guilt.

#death note #death note drama #light yagami #soichiro yagami #death note analysis

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ac-liveblogs · 3 years

Text

Why Genshin Impact's Writing is So Dang Unsatisfying

It’s actually a symptom of a greater problem.

Okay, so, I’m not a game developer, BUT I have played many, many RPGs of scope and variety so I think I’m in a position to talk about why Genshin’s writing is kind of a messy and overall unsatisfying experience overall, and why this is a byproduct of it’s the way it’s been designed.

If you want to skip the extended explanation here’s the short version – Mihoyo gravely underestimated how much work would be needed to put into Genshin to make it consistently satisfying, and a gacha with a 6-week update schedule isn’t really compatible with the standard RPG model for a variety of reasons.

Okay? Cool.

Anyway, the long version:

You’ve probably noticed by now that Genshin Impact is really bad at writing both its characters and its plot. With regards to characterisation, what I mean by that is that we often get the absolute bare bone minimum shown on-screen while the bulk of information about a character is confined to the Story section of their profile. What this essentially means is that to understand the nuance of any given character interaction between two people that have supposedly already met, you need to do your homework, and that rather than actually show two characters interacting, Mihoyo will just tell you what their relationship is like.

For example, Albedo is Klee’s adoptive caregiver. You don’t discover this through the story, you find out by reading Klee’s profile (or I guess Klee’s Wikipedia page). The two have never met on-screen at the time of writing, despite both having their own dedicated events and Windblume being about… relationships. Diluc and Kaeya have an incredibly heavy backstory and are supposedly on really bad terms, but you’d have no idea because on-screen they’re fine hanging out and only really seem to trade barbs, nothing more.

How did this come about? Well, besides that I think whoever at Mihoyo writing the main/event scenarios isn’t very good at their job, I believe there’s three leading reasons:

1) Fully Animated Cutscenes

MHY shot itself in the foot early on by insisting on almost every conversation that involves more than just the Traveller and 1 other person be portrayed through a cutscene. Not just a “here’s some talking sprites” type deal, we’re talking full articulation, mouth movement, the whole shebang.

That takes time and effort, and as a result Mihoyo isn’t going to waste time animating people talking if they don’t have to – because they went and committed to a 6-week update schedule, so things need to be ready to go at decent quality fast. This is also why the cutscenes we do have are very simple – no-one holds things, no-one really moves around in a complex way… I don’t even think anyone touches anyone else in a standard cutscene. Anything special, like the Diluc, Eula or Zhongli vs mook cutscenes, have to be done separately, and rarely (and are very short besides).

So, if MHY wants to convey a relationship between two people, rather than showing us or letting us infer for ourselves through loaded dialogue that takes time to animate, they’ll just dump it in their backstory or drop us crumbs in the animated trailers. Same information, but less engaging storytelling. That means you’d best be ready for a lot of extremely dull character interactions in the actual game, because they’re just less effort to produce.

This issue bleeds over into the main plot, like the Archon Quests. You’ll notice that most of your time is spent a) travelling from point X to point Y to explore, complete fetch quests or talk to NPCs or b) grinding up to the Adventurer Rank necessary to unlock the next part of the plot. Make no mistake, these are stalling tactics to pad out the quest to make them seem longer, because there isn’t going to be much actual storytelling besides the bare-bones minimum required to convey the information necessary for things to make sense.

2) Gacha

Genshin Impact is a gacha game with a slow update schedule when it comes to story content. In about a year, we’ve gotten what’s essentially the prologue, chapter 1, the prologue to chapter 2 and a handful of events and character quests/hangouts. And in that year, we’ve had no character development or character arcs either start or finish on-screen because Mihoyo has decided to release character content in drips via their quests. (Diluc winking during his Burst at bond 10 is legitimately the most character development in the game at this point.)

Did you know that Childe fell into the Abyss as a perfectly normal kid and came out irreversibly changed into a bloodthirsty murder machine, or that Albedo is a homunculus that will one day try to destroy Mondstadt? Well, the Traveller doesn’t, because none of that is plot-relevant yet, nor has that information been conveyed to them in-universe. But you know these things because the game told you, to get you interested in/excited about their characters now. So you’ll roll. Now.

And because Genshin Impact will spend the absolute minimum amount of time on writing the basic story, let alone foreshadowing character arcs, you can bet that the eventual conclusion to these backstories won’t be particularly exciting in-game either. They’ll probably come out of left field with no real setup or payoff, because a) MHY didn’t have the time to write this stuff in earlier and b) it’s assumed you already know, so why waste time on more than you have to?

And sure, I hear you argue that “well, of course that’s not going to be in the main story, all that stuff is for their character quests!” And yes, that’s probably true – but that just means that there’s not going to be a lot of character work in the Archon Quests (which makes for less engaging storytelling overall), and it’s not like the character quests update very quickly either. Plus, character quests are still subject to the “put the bare minimum in cutscenes” rule, so… don’t expect much.

So, why does this happen? Because it’s not just that Genshin doesn’t really have the resources to write things properly; Mihoyo wants you to panic-buy Genesis Crystals every time a new character drops because you weren’t expecting them or given much of a chance to save up over time. So… yeah, they’ll drop loads of information on you all at once to get you hyped. They won’t do much to foreshadow upcoming characters, either.

It is by no accident that you only ever get information about upcoming characters via dialogue, and the characters themselves don’t appear. How many people would have decided to pass over the Childe and Zhongli reruns if they knew Eula had such thick thighs? At least a few, I bet.

Gachas don’t really want you saving up - they want you panicking now. A game that drops more characters than Genshin will try its best to tempt you with other more exciting offerings before the character you’re actually excited in drops. Either that, or it intentionally drums up hype for one or more characters in particular to maximise profit later on (Dainsleif is the only example Genshin currently has). Unfortunately, Genshin doesn’t add a lot of characters very often (please note that for later), so it can’t afford to do either of those things very often. And so, don’t expect to meet characters well in advance, no matter how little sense it makes in the long run. @Eula and Albedo, apparently getting their nails done while Dvalin attacked Mondstadt.

(So don’t feel too bad for the devs re; character leaks – the reason Mihoyo wants to hide stuff is to squeeze more money out of you via panic-buying, and leakers are doing you a favour by letting you make more informed choices; that’s the tea on that. Leaking the plot or the entire contents of an update, on the other hand, is a dick move)

Of course, you will also inevitably run into the issue of character backstories not matching what’s shown on-screen (most infamously is Xiao during the Lantern Rite), or even characters that have apparently already completed their character arcs before you ever met them (like Eula), but, again... consistent characterisation appears to be one of Mihoyo’s sacrificial lambs.

Speaking of the Lantern Rite and how bland it was, that’s only partially down to Genshin doing the bare minimum that passes for content by sending you on fetch quests all the damn time. In fact, so is the problem that arises from Genshin not being able to release characters very often and the impact that has. No, that all stems from the fact that…

3) Making a Triple A Game Incrementally on a 6-Week Update Schedule is Hard, Actually

So, why is it that Genshin doesn’t drop a lot of new characters very often, anyway? And how come the two three major story events (Unreconciled Stars, The Chalk Prince and the Dragon and the Lantern Rite) were all so disappointing?

I mean, I can pick up Fate/Grand Order and get up to 6 new characters in one event. FEH usually drops about 4 per standard banner. And FGO events are basically light novels, and have loads of content like multiple bosses, challenge quests… Genshin doesn’t do that.

Well… FEH and FGO are 2D games. So, that means making new characters or boss battles often just means drawing the picture (most of which is outsourced), animating the sprites and coding their abilities. Challenge Quests will take existing characters and add more difficult parameters, like more HP, break bars or stronger skills.

Genshin’s major problem in this regard is that it’s an open-world 3D hack and slash. So… programming new characters means a lot more complex animations and playtesting. Programming new bosses is an ordeal because they’ve gotta have far more exciting visuals and complicated movement patterns that require specific strategies to beat, and then playtest all that too. You can’t even program things like domains and dungeons, because those take ages just to make even a short one!

This is why new bosses drop so rarely. This is why there’s very little variation in the enemies you fight on the world map. This is why dungeons don’t have bosses at the end and take so little time to clear, and why none of these events brought many new bosses with them. Did Mihoyo have time to code a Scaramouche boss battle, or was its time better spent making a raid boss you can fight over and over? The latter is more economical in terms of how much value for playtime you get, so the choice was made to let the event end with a whisper instead of a bang because that’s probably all they had time to do.

That’s also why the Lantern Rite was so janky for anyone that read Xiao’s profile. Don’t know about anyone else, but I thought the fact that Xiao has to protect Liyue from the swarm of evil gods that attack it every year would result in some banger boss battles. But nope; Genshin didn’t have the time to make those, so it threw fetch quests at you as an easy-to-code time killer and just kinda… swept all the established Lantern Rite lore under the rug. It was easier to make under crunch.

So, as a result of not having the resources to make dungeons, new areas, exciting bosses... the stories Genshin tries to tell all have to be less exciting to accomodate that particular weakness. It all loops into each other! It never ends!

Mihoyo decided long ago that its resources were best spent on making a large, explorable overworld, so other things had to slip. Dungeons, bosses, cutscenes and by proxy story and characters, bosses and gameplay variation – all were sacrificed in favour of trying to be the next Breath of the Wild.

And incidentally? This is why it’s so frustrating to build characters or weapons. It’s a stalling tactic, because what are you going to spend your time doing once you’ve filled the map, completed all the available quests and the devs haven’t had time to drop a new update yet?

Well, you’re going to build characters in slow-motion, because EXP is rare, mora is limited, boss drops are negligible and artifact farming is hell… on purpose. It’s just to keep you playing during the dead time!

These issues all roll into each other and compound:

Dungeons are short and easy with minimal story content because the devs don’t have time to make them longer or animate a decent story. Because they’re not long, there’s no point adding good rewards or cool bosses. You can’t have cool bosses anyway because those take time to code, and Mihoyo doesn’t have the resources to make a one-off boss that vanishes once they’re dead, so there’s no harm making the dungeon short anyway (right?)

There’s no good rewards because Mihoyo wants you to either spend real money rolling for the weapons, or take as long as possible building your characters because they need to buy time between updates. Because making dungeons is so hard and time-consuming and are designed to be one-visit-only, Mihoyo won’t make them very often, and will instead put its resources towards making a large overworld.

How do you kill time in the huge overworld? Well, you go find chests, which have negligible rewards, because they want you to spend real money on primos or take ten years to build a character, and you need to spend ten years building a character for them to buy enough time to drop a new unsatisfying event or dungeon… rinse, repeat.

It all adds up into a draining, unsatisfying experience that gets worse the longer you play. Genshin’s bright and exciting when you have a lot to do and can excuse the poor writing. But when you don’t… oh boy, that’s when the real monotony sets in. I hope you like artifacts domains. You won’t be leaving any time soon.

#ac plays genshin impact #this is really salty so if you are not into that i do not recommend reading this #but its very interesting how interconnected genshin's issues are once you take a closer look

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charming-2d-boys · 4 years

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Hi, I just want to say that I really love your writings and they actually really help me relax after a hard day!😊But today i just wanted to feel pain, so can I please have a dying! reader headcannon with Chrollo. If you do write for these, Im really sorry if you dont.

Oh, anon, who hurt you? I'll make myself cry, most probably 😭

Anyway, thank you and I'm glad to hear that! 😄 And thank you for the request as well! I hope you'll enjoy this! 🙇

A/N: the idea sorta came while listening to A Grave Mistake by Ice Nine Kills (I love the live version from SiriusXM, like please 😭💞). And I was so close to writing a scenario and then I read headcanons and I just kinds stopped like oh, yeah 😂

Warning: very long, angsty, description of injuries and death

you’d never thought it could hurt so badly

or that there’d be so much blood

but, alas, that was the unfortunate situation you found yourself in

the several gashes you’d acquired during your fight were making you dizzy from blood loss

your attacker had died a few seconds before, blood still flowing from the stomach wound you gave him

that was also the only serious hit you managed to land on him

unfortunately, you just knew that it only saved you for a bit more time

you had barely managed to get out your phone, only to see the screen cracked

and you were honestly scared it wouldn't work, but you felt relief when the screen lit up

you called Chrollo, but you had to put the phone on the ground, next to your ear

you had never felt happier to hear his voice

if only you could see him one last time as well...

Hello, love! And Happy Anniversary! Where are you? I hope you're on your way because I wouldn't want dinner to get cold-

Chrollo...

he suddenly went quiet as he heard you and you could hear shuffling in the background

(Y/N), where are you?

you told him, wheezing when you felt a sharp pain in your side as you tried to breathe in more air

you heard more shuffling before the city noise filled the background on the other end

Stay on the phone with me. Tell me what happened.

it hurt so badly to talk

your throat felt as dry as bone and also wet and the taste of blood was prominent

but you tried to talk, telling him about the one who attacked you while on your way home and how you tried to defend yourself, but their Nen far surpassed yours

apparently, your attacker had friends who wanted to destroy the Spider as well

and they would cling to anything that would hurt them or get them closer to the Phantom Troupe

you’d rather tell your boyfriend about this face to face, though

you did laugh and you heard his chuckle when you told Chrollo about the fatal hit you inflicted on your attacker

but when he asked you how bad your injuries were, you couldn’t answer

what were you supposed to say?

that you’d never seen so much blood in your entire life?

or that you could feel yourself slipping away?

(Y/N)? Talk to me, darling. I’m almost there. Just keep talking.

you told Chrollo about the cake you had bought and how you wanted to go on a date the next day or just sleep in and spend the entire day celebrating at home

he only hummed, hurrying over to you as fast as he could

good thing Shalnark installed an app on your phone that allowed Chrollo to pinpoint your location with accuracy

he swore he’d only use it in case of emergency and he’d kept his word

Chrollo felt his heart drop into his stomach when he saw your figure and all the blood surrounding you and the figure a few meters away from you

(Y/N)? I’m here now. Everything’s going to be fine, okay?

his hand caressed your cheek while the other hovered over your waist, where most of the blood seemed to come from

you leaned into his touch, smiling at him despite all the pain you felt and the numbness that started to overtake your limbs

Chrollo had already called Machi to heal you and Feitan, more for reinforcement than anything

and a few seconds later you could both hear them rapidly approaching you

Machi, please.

she only nodded and got to work, with Feitan going over to your attacker and inspecting him closely

Chrollo held your hand the entire time, smiling down at you and kissing your knuckles, hoping that you’d be saved and coming back with him injured, but alive

Machi managed to stitch most of your wounds and the bleeding stopped, but you were still pale and trembling from all the blood loss

How are you feeling, love? Better?

you wanted to say yes, just to keep that hopeful sparkle in his eyes

but you couldn’t

No... It hurts a lot... I don’t think I’ll-

Stop. Don’t say it.

Machi had gotten up and taken a few steps away from the two of you, still hearing you, but giving you some privacy

she’d done her best and you were thankful for that

you had felt her hands tremble slightly

you were friends and her boss’ lover

the idea of someone else she grew close to dying was making her sick

and Chrollo felt the same way

despite being around death so often and for his entire life, he still hated the idea of someone he cared about leaving his side like this

it was too soon

he still had so many things he wanted to experience with you and show you

he couldn’t lose you just like that

it wasn’t fair

there were tears forming in his eyes and you felt your heart clench in pain and pity when they started descending down his cheeks

your fingers wiped them away, the dry blood on your fingertips leaving faint marks where they got the blood wet again

Shhh... Don’t worry, we’ll meet again one day. Okay? And I’ll watch over you. So don’t cry anymore, please.

you were no better since you were crying as well

it really wasn’t fair

you didn’t want to die

you didn’t want to leave Chrollo

and seeing him actually react like this really moved you

as cool and charming as he always acted, even with you for the most part

you really didn’t think that he felt so strongly about you

you kissed the top of his head lightly as his face rested over your neck, lips pressing over the still warm skin and moving as if he was mumbling

or praying

Chrollo, sweetheart, please, look at me.

his eyes were teary and a little bloodshot as his hands were holding tightly onto yours

you looked so pale, but you still smiled at him

and Chrollo felt his heart crack

because it was his fault

he should’ve kept you safe

he was still trying not to be loud

and only you could see his face and feel his trembling hands

It’s not your fault. Understood? Don’t blame yourself. I want you to promise me this.

he couldn’t do that and you knew it

he’d always feel some guilt because this could’ve been avoided

if only he’d been with you, he could’ve protected you

just like he promised you

and he broke it

I promise.

he knew how stubborn you were sometimes

you wouldn’t take no or I can’t for an answer

not this time

I love you, (Y/N). I’ll always do.

his voice was anything but loud

this was only for you to hear and no one else

not even Machi or Feitan

So will I, Chrollo. Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone, alright?

you smirked playfully, though even you felt like it was a pitiful attempt at making everything more light-hearted

he cracked a broken smile and kissed your forehead, arms slowly lifting you up so he could hug you properly

you hugged him back tightly, hand going through his hair as his hands clung to your torn clothes, feeling the dry blood that had soaked through

it honestly hurt to stay like this

but it didn’t matter anymore

even now, you felt safe in his arms

his cologne always brought you this feeling of familiarity and home

and his skin was so warm that you never wanted to part with him

but you slowly started feeling even more sluggish

there were black spots gradually growing in size and numbers and you closed your eyes, letting your other senses heighten

his breathing was ragged but still quiet

his fingers were digging into your skin only a little

his grip tightened just as yours started to weaken

you could only press a kiss to his shoulder before you felt a few more tears fall onto your skin

if only you could apologise for making him cry, you would’ve done it

but you could barely open your mouth to utter a whimpered sorry

and the last thing you heard was Chrollo, thanking you for loving him

as he got up, with your lifeless body in his arms, cradling you protectively

Chrollo looked down at your face

you looked as if you were sleeping

just like that time when you went to an amusement park and he had to carry you home because of how tired you were

if only there wasn’t so much blood and your body was warmer

Machi and Feitan were looking at the both of you without saying a word

Machi’s eyes were shining with unshed tears

while Feitan grimaced behind his mask

things would never be the same now that you were gone

he could already sense the change in Chrollo

Feitan, do you know who he is?

Yes, seen him before. Yakuza from the northern side of the city. Had a clash a few months ago.

Chrollo only nodded and his fingers tightened their grip a little over your skin that was growing colder

Let’s head back. After all, we should forgive our enemies. But not before they are hanged.

Chrollo and the other two Spiders walked away from the scene in silence

every memory the two of you had built over time, good or bad, was burnt into his mind and kept replaying

he glanced at you again

you would never be forgotten

you would always be loved

Chrollo swore this

and swore to get even and kill them all

revenge is a confession of pain

and he had never felt so much of it before

#hxh #hunter x hunter #hunter x hunter x reader #hunter x reader #chrollo #chrollo lucilfer #chrollo x reader #chrollo lucilfer x reader #hxh chrollo #hxh writing

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theninjamouse · 3 years

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33 for Shore and Gaster maybe? Id say maybe a little off shoot from the Silks versions of them if you're feeling up to it?

33. An unexpected kiss that shocks the one receiving it.

(Note: This will reference stuff that happens in the fic. It’ll be left intentionally vague but there will be some *minor spoilers* for Lightning and Silks. Also this is a scenario that might possibly show up in the fic itself so...consider this, at the moment, semi-canon)

~~~~

Stupid, you were so stupid. You knew better than you try and make jumps when you couldn’t clearly see the landing area. But it was a path you had taken a dozen times before, you knew the patch of concrete that your feet would meet between the layered boxes that offered a shielding wall from prying eyes like you knew each scrape and scuff on your shoes.

But knowing a place doesn’t mean it won’t ever change.

The fall itself is a bit of a blur. You jumped, you saw that it was not clear ground before you but some kind of large metal equipment and twisted your body to avoid collision with the sharp edges. The burst of pain through your left side, the deep and damning snapping in your ribs, now that you remember. That had left you shoving your fist in your mouth, muffling the shrieks tearing at your throat as you breathed through the pain. Once you caught your breath, you had staggered home, limping and pressing a hand against your bleeding arm. It definitely counted as one of your worst landings, perhaps save for the one where you landed directly onto your current employer.

Cleaning up had revealed harsh red lesions and bruises all over your ribs. Every breath made sharp pain slice through your lungs. Reason tells you that you’ve got a least one broken rib. You shove it down, telling yourself it’s just bruising.

Even if it is broken, it’s not like you can really do anything about it. What are you supposed to do, take time off from work? Tell Cinders ‘Sorry I can’t help you track down the bad guys for a few weeks, I got a boo-boo on my ribs?’

Nah, you’ll grit your teeth and get through it. You’re good at that

So it’s with only a limp very slightly showing and long sleeves on that you show up at the club for your silks show, one of your less see through suits shoved in your bag. Grillby’s nowhere to be seen, thank god so you quickly slip back towards the dressing rooms. You doubt he would’ve outright said something had he seen you but you’re far more concerned about-

“Not even going to say hi?”

You barely bite back the yowl that shoots straight from your ribs as you jump. Teeth grit around a hissing breath, you turn. “Well, I can’t very well say hi if you hide in the shadows like a creep.”

Gaster peels himself off the hallway wall, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his slacks. “For once I wasn’t hiding in the shadows; you just looked like you were too busy planning a murder to notice me.” His red eye lights dance over you. “Little warm for long sleeves, isn’t it?”

“I don’t wanna hear that from you, Mr. Turtleneck.” You turn on your heel and continue down the hallway. Gaster trails after you, silent save for the very slight rustle of fabric.

“You’re limping.”

“Am not.”

“Crash into another dangerous monster on a run did you?”

You snort. “Like I could afford to be in debt to another Grillby.” You’ve reached the door and instinctively move to grab the handle with your bad arm. Ow, nope, bad idea. You switch last minute, awkwardly shifting your bag on your shoulder and reaching out with your left hand. “Anyway, I’ve got to get ready, did you actually need anything?”

The door shuts with a solid thud. You blink at Gaster’s hand just above your head, keeping the door firmly shut. Your heart shoots up into your throat and your skin prickles from the mere presence of him right behind you. “What the hell are you doing?” you ask as calmly as you can, still facing the door.

“I was about to ask you that,” he says just as casually, as if his arm wasn’t trapping you one on side. “Or rather, what the hell did you do?”

“What, the limp? I just took a rough landing earlier, it’s no big deal.”

You can hear the grin in his voice, the smug bastard. “I thought you said you weren’t limping.”

Lip curling into a snarl, you turn around. “Look, you can’t just--”

You’re cut off suddenly. Because Gaster has leaned down and pressed his mouth against yours in a kiss. All annoyance, all pain and all thoughts stutter to a complete and utter halt. Your bag slips from your shoulder and lands on the ground with a muffled thud and still you stand frozen, mouth caught in a shockingly gentle kiss that can barely be called a kiss at all but rather the press of smooth bone against your lips.

What is he....what the hell...?

Then, pain shoots up your arm at a sudden grip and movement and you jerk back, head smacking against the door.

Gaster has already moved his stare away from you, hands deftly pushing your sleeve up your injured arm to reveal a harsh marring of bruises and scraps. “Several lacerations, most appear superficial but clean. Bruising, will probably darken over the next day or so.”

“Hey--“ Your voice is a high croak.

His hands release your arm and instead press very, very lightly against your side. His eye lights flare and you shiver under the press of magic that sets off your senses like a sudden wave of cold. “Two breaks, clean. Aorta is stable but further motion may cause puncturing.”

“G-get off me!” You shove him back, not that it does a single thing to actually move the towering monster. But he does let his hand fall and takes a step back. “What the hell! Why did you do that?”

“I needed to assess your injuries.” His tone is still clinical, though you do catch an undercurrent of some emotion that you can’t quite place. “I didn’t want to just grab you and possibly cause further harm.”

“So you kissed me?!”

“I distracted you.” He’s frowning now, eye lights still boring into you like he can see the extend of your injuries through force of staring alone. “Let’s try this again; what did you do?”

Head still spinning with the force of your racing heart, you don’t bother to gentle the truth. “I nearly got myself sliced by some kind of metal equipment thing, alright? I didn’t though and just landed hard. It’s not that big a deal.”

“You have two broken ribs.”

“It’s none of your business!”

He ignores that, shoulders very slightly loosening out of their tense hold. “You weren’t attacked?”

You blink. “No?”

A long and heavy breath of air leaves Gaster’s mouth at that and he closes his sockets for a moment. Then, with a quick flick of his wrist, his phone appears in his hand and he presses it up against his skull. After a moment- “Cinders? You’re going to need another act for tonight.”

A burst of noise from the line has you wincing.

“Stop spitting, she’s fine. Well, no actually she’s not but she’s not dead, which is something.” A pause. “I don’t know, you’re the owner, figure it out! Love you, byeeeee.”

He hangs up, that familiar spark of annoying glee back in his sockets. “Well, you’re cleared for the night. Now come with me; I’ve got the keys to Grillby’s penthouse.”

Excuse- penthouse?! “Why?”

“To get those ribs taken care of of course. You can’t be leaping around rooftops like this.”

“You can’t- look, I’ll be fine okay? Ribs have to just heal on their own, there’s nothing you can do.”

Gaster gives you a flat stare. “There’s nothing you humans can do about it. I am capable of far more than what your measly human doctors could even hope to dream of.” He leans over you, a promising grin on his face.

The sight makes your lips burn with the ghostly echo of his kiss.

“Are you going to make me carry you, or do you want to hold on to what’s left of your dignity and walk?”

You gape up at him for a moment before snapping your jaw shut. “Fine.”

“Good choice.” He pats your cheek, picks up your bag and slings it over his own shoulder and then smoothly walks away, fully expecting you to follow him.

You do so, the fingers of your good hand reaching up gingerly touch your lips.

A distraction. That’s all it was.

Right.

…Right?

#undertale #underfell #gaster #gaster/reader #gaster x reader #Lightning and Silks #kiss prompts #shorester #WELL NOW #a kiss from a skele on this fine night #OoF extra

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chaoticallysapphic · 4 years

Text

the great divide part six

summary: Who knew that eight words would be your undoing. If you had known then what you know now you wouldn't have signed up for Suyin's dance troupe, you probably would have left Zaofu just to be safe. But you didn't and fate had branded you with a path that chained you to someone who would break your heart.

a/n: The last part! Please remember there is an epilogue, Gif is made by @stelladonna and a massive thanks to @medeliadracon for beta reading this series! And also a big thank you to @ladyxffandoms for helping me figure out what was missing.

word count: 8k

When you leave her office, Kuvira is filled with rage so hot she fears it may burn her insides. She hears the slam of her doors and the muffled conversation between guards before it’s softly shut once more. “It shouldn’t be a tough decision, Kuvira.”

The malice in your voice, the use of her full name, it shattered through the toughest of walls within her. Ones you’d never breached before. She’s never been good with her emotions, ever since she was a child she warped her sadness, her loneliness, and sometimes even happiness into anger as a way to protect herself.

She was a difficult child with a temper the size of Ba Sing Se, so difficult in fact that her parents deemed her unfit for their life. It felt like the world was ending when she first arrived in Zaofu, the way her parents spoke to her before they left, making her seem like no one would ever truly love her unless she let Suyin mold her into a model citizen.

And that was another problem, Suyin always tried to turn Kuvira into a miniature version of herself. It didn’t matter how different she was, Suyin tried to bury who Kuvira truly was with a perfected version of herself, a false one.

Up until her parent's abandonment, she always assumed love would be easy and that she would instantly marry her soulmate. She’d pull her shirt up just a bit and look at the words swirled across her hip bone in wonder. “Would you mind helping me memorize the routine?”

Those words, however minuscule and mundane, proved to her that she was worthy of love. That one day she would be loved. But as she grew older in Zaofu she felt a disconnect regarding those words on her hip, the first time she had sex she had covered it up, as if trying to shield the person she hadn’t even met yet. Hara, the name of the girl who had eyed her since the first day of guard training, didn’t seem to care at all.

Kuvira feels like she should lie and say she had her eyes on you since the first practice you attended but honestly she hadn’t even noticed the new addition to the troupe. When you had pranced over to her, still light on your feet after the routine, and spoke, she wondered what kind of soft-spoken woman would end up loving someone whose own parents hated her?

She remembers that night in the metal flower in vivid detail. When you were spinning alongside her in the air she suddenly was consumed with the desire to kiss you, she didn’t even realize she had pulled you close until your soft lips touched hers.

She knew from the moment you spoke that first day she should have broken up with Baatar Jr. But Kuvira, even though she will never admit it out loud, is a stubborn and flawed woman who can’t stop once she sets her mind to something.

The fourth night of the second month on the train after she had been uncharacteristically gentle with you, was the first time you said you loved her. She asked you to repeat yourself again and again until you pulled her into a deep kiss, pouring all your love into it. The action left her breathless, and with that kiss, you broke her first wall.

She doesn’t even realize she’s crying until she starts to think about you and all her memories of you. You’re most likely in your room erasing any trace of her there may be, completely ready to extract her from your life.

Kuvira forces herself out of her office and over to her front door, she opens it up just a few inches, enough for the guard nearby to see. She doesn’t care if he can see the tears racing down her cheeks. “Have a guard stationed outside of Y/n’s door.”

Once she shuts the door after he nods, Kuvira walks into her room where she sits on the edge of her bed. If she goes to sleep, will you still be in her life tomorrow? Kuvira shoves off her boots but otherwise stays in her uniform as she lays down and stares blankly out the window, her country needs her. They need her to protect them in a way no one has ever protected her before.

Kuvira doesn’t sleep that night, she stays awake, her gaze focused on a potted plant out in the courtyard, and imagines every possible scenario in her head. These last few years have spoiled her in a way, you were always by her side through it all. You were there cheering her on and making her feel loved and wanted. She doesn’t know if she can go back to how it used to be, to loneliness.

When rays of sunshine start to peak through her window, she pulls herself up and out of bed. Kuvira goes to the bathroom to smooth out any wrinkles in her clothes but doesn’t feel the energy or motivation to change into a fresh pair. She slept in her bun, it’s a bit frizzy now with a few loose strands that she tries to tuck into her braid, there’s a pesky curl that won’t cooperate. Kuvira eventually gives up on it, letting it stay out and frame the side of her face.

You love when she has her hair down, when it’s down you immediately run your fingers through the dark curls and let out this content sigh that fills her heart with adoration. Kuvira shoves her feet into her boots on the way out of her room, beyond caring about her appearance. The guard outside her door, the same from last night steps forward when she walks out of her room.

“Ms. Y/n left her room around one A.M, it’s been reported that she’s staying at the encampment.” Kuvira frowns, did she take too long? Have you given up?

You were her guiding hand, her moral compass and now you’re gone. “Thank you,” she says monotonously before heading towards the kitchen. Despite her desire to shut herself off from the world, her stomach is cramping in pain due to hunger. She should have eaten the food you gave her last night, now it’s strewn across the desk in her office, cold and gone bad.

She takes herself the familiar route to the kitchens, growing up here has its perks. She'd seen how you look around in a mixture of confusion and wonder when they had gone to try and negotiate with Suyin. Kuvira knows this place, she ran down these very halls when she was younger. Despite the hollowness that echoes through the halls, the lack of laughter and conversation turns the whole home into a colorless husk of what it used to be.

Kuvira hadn't noticed the lack of life within as she walked into the empty kitchen. Her guards had gotten Suyin's chef to cook breakfast and dinner, and she had given him lunch off. It was for sentimental reasons, all the birthday cakes he baked her and midnight snacks. He might hate her now but she'll keep giving him lunch off in hopes of paying him back for the happy memories. She doesn't like to owe people.

He must not be in yet, it's barely dawn. The kitchen is empty, giving Kuvira the perfect moment of respite before her dreadful day. She grabs a piece of bread, most likely baked yesterday, and an apple. Part of her doesn't have an appetite, to upset about her fight with you to want to eat. She forces it down with a glass of water, the food helps her slightly, helps her feel stronger than before.

Kuvira walks down the hall, her feet carried her out of the estate and towards the tram. “I need to get out of the city,” she says to the operator waiting for any passengers by the tram doors. He nods and briskly walks over to the operating booth, she decides to grab onto the pole at the center of the cart and stand. The machinery starts with a jolt but Kuvira remains unmoving, staring straight ahead. Slowly the scenery around her begins to change, it takes her around the outer domes where a few people are toddling about, most likely walking off to work.

The tram goes under a tunnel before entering the main dome. That towering golden statue of Toph Beifong comes into view and Kuvira sighs as a memory of you enters her mind.

You’re moving around your room on the train as the view from outside is blurred due to the speed you were moving at. You and Kuvira were beginning to get to know each other in the safety of the night, which brought you such joy. Standing in front of your vanity with only Kuvira’s undershirt on you begin to take the pins out of your hair. “What was your home like?” She had asked. A wide smile made its way onto your face as you set the bobby pins into a small ring dish.

“Just so cozy. We have a townhouse in the main dome across from the botanical gardens. I had the best view from my bedroom window,” you let out a wistful sigh as you begin to untie your locks. “Our home was directly situated to the center of it, all you had to do was walk across the street to enter. So I got to wake up with a view of every flower Zaofu has curated, it felt like it was just for me.”

Kuvira watches you fondly from the bed as you continue “my dad and I made a metal planter to hang from our kitchen window by the front door, during summertime hydrangeas bloom from it.”

Without thinking Kuvira rushes over to the emergency brake button and slaps her hand onto it, the tram stops with a harsh jolt that sends her stumbling to the side. The doors automatically open with the lights above flashing red. Kuvira stands on the edge, looking below. The fall isn’t far but it could still hurt her, so she bends two of the metal seats, ripping them out of their places screwed to the floor and warping it into a crud shape of a ladder.

She bends it to the edge, moving the nails that popped out to screw them into the floor to secure the ladder. Kuvira lets out a deep sigh before beginning her descent below. This is stupid and will most likely blow up in her face, but if you decide to say goodbye to her today, she wants to see the place that you once called home. There are a few inches between the ladder and the ground so Kuvira jumps, She bends at the ladder back into the tram so if it starts whilst she’s away it won’t break any buildings in the process.

An old man opening up shop stares at Kuvira with wide eyes, watching her walk away as the tram above stays frozen. She’s a block away from the garden she’s heard you gush about, more and more people begin to filter out from their homes to start their day and each one eyes her with disgust. Squaring her shoulders, she stares ahead and away from everyone's watchful gaze.

The gardens come into view, towering bright green trees with vines growing on the wrought iron fence surrounding it. Kuvira stops at the entrance, looking inside with hesitancy, as if worried she’ll destroy it upon contact. There’s a pond in the center with a few lily pads floating around with two benches across from one another by the pond.

Flowers of all shapes and colors are scattered around and when her gaze locks on the towering Sunflowers in bloom, Kuvira suddenly remembers once finding you tucked behind them with bloodshot eyes and a raspy voice from crying. That was the second time she had knowingly hurt you, the first being asking you to keep it a secret. Kuvira takes a step back, not feeling worthy of stepping inside such a radiant place, and begins her trek around it to your house.

Most of the homes don’t have many outdoor decorations, a welcome mat or a potted plant seems to be the theme so when her eyes lock onto that metal planter with blue hydrangeas Kuvira knows she’s found the place. It’s a two-story townhome with some sort of stick figure drawn on the second story window and when she looks over her shoulder she sees how perfectly centered the house is to see all of the gardens from above.

She doesn’t know what to do now. She never really thought through her plan, which is incredibly unlike her, but that memory came flooding back through her mind and she knew she needed to see it for herself. Slowly she takes a step forward, and then another and another until she’s in front of the door with her fist raised, rapping three times against the metal.

Kuvira doesn’t know why she does it, maybe it's the sleep deprivation or an act of desperation to feel your presence again, she honestly doesn’t know. There’s the sound of thunderous footsteps from behind the door and a masculine voice calling out “I’ll get it!”

A man opens the door with the same color hair as you, he’s a bit on the chubbier side and looks to be roughly 6’2 or maybe even 6’3.

Kuvira can see the resemblance in certain features of his and it makes her long for you even more. Your father scowls at the sight of her, his demeanor has changed from cheery to vexed in a matter of seconds. She shouldn’t be surprised.

“I’m Kuvi-”

“I know who you are, you made us kneel before you.” His voice is gruff and his words clipped. Kuvira sighs, right, she did do that. “What do you want?”

‘I’ve come to talk to you and your wife about… well about your daughter.” Spirits this is awkward, your father stares Kuvira down for a few moments before frowning. Slowly he steps aside, letting her in. Your home is warm with family photos framed and hanging from the wall, the entry is a narrow hallway with an archway that leads into a small kitchen. As Kuvira follows your dad down the hall her eyes catch on a photo of you.

You can’t be any older than eight in it with your arms wrapped around your father's neck as he carries you on his back. Your mother is beside the two of you, pushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. All three of you are grinning and Kuvira notices that one of your front teeth is missing. Both of you have lived such different lives. At eight Kuvira was being abandoned by her parents for being too out of control.

Two people who grew up in completely different environments with such clashing personalities are soulmates, in some ways, it seems like a sick joke. But she can’t be upset about it when she loves you this much, just confused.

Your father clears his throat, ripping Kuvira from her thoughts. She looks over and tenses, he’s looking at her like he wants to say something but shakes his head and enters the room at the end of the hall. Kuvira reluctantly leaves the photo behind and follows after him.

The room is a living and dining room with a small circular table that has an elegant bouquet of yellow and white flowers in a simple vase with four chairs tucked underneath it. There is a cozy looking periwinkle sofa and an unlit fireplace with a photo hanging above it, this one is larger and is of you before the performance all those years ago. You look so pretty in that costume and so happy. Kuvira swallows.

Your dad walks up the staircase tucked to the right, leaving her in the living room where she awkwardly stands. She doesn’t think he wants her to go up. Kuvira makes out the sound of aggressive whispering from upstairs, she can’t make out any of the words but soon after two people come walking downstairs. Your father and your mother.

Kuvira’s eyes widened, you always mentioned your mother being part of the guard but you never mentioned her being the Lieutenant for the main dome. Not only did she help train Kuvira, but she also placed the captain's pin onto her uniform during her ceremony. She had smiled at Kuvira, having seen her as her own, and said quietly “I’m so proud of you.”

That smile is long gone and replaced with a scowl. “What could you possibly want to say about our daughter?” Your father places a gentle hand on her shoulder, trying to calm her down a bit.

Kuvira gulps as she eyes the both of them, there're so many emotions raging within her now that she doesn’t know if she can even speak. Suddenly this place somehow seems too much like you and she wants to run away from your mother's wrathful gaze. “I’m… Your daughter,” Kuvira internally groans. This shouldn’t be so hard. “ Y/n and I are soulmates.”

“So the rumors are true…” Your father mutters as he plops down onto the couch with a dumbfounded expression.

“What rumors?” She had locked herself up in her room all of yesterday and this is her first time having a conversation with someone that’s not you. Your father grimaces.

“That guards found you in her room, naked,” your mother spits the words out. Oh spirits, this is not a good first impression. Kuvira feels her face flush a deep red “that you imprisoned your fiancé because he caught the two of you.”

“It’s a lot more than that” she offers, neither seems to care. Your father seems to not want to hear any of this because he quickly stands and walks off towards the kitchen. The sounds of pots and pans being moved can be heard through the otherwise eerily silent home. “I didn’t want to imprison him.”

“I don’t care, what I want to know is why you were even with him if my daughter is your soulmate. She abruptly left with you three years ago.”

The explanation floating around her mind isn’t good enough, she can’t seem to figure out how to eloquently explain herself without it seeming like she doesn’t care about you. Suddenly as she thinks over the last three years and she starts to notice how harshly she’s treated you.

Up until now she always claimed it was for the good of the country, when you both finally got married the world would try to eat you up and chew you out for being with her. She needed you to have a perfect image and be resilient.

“I-I needed him for engineering and he wouldn’t leave with us unless he thought I loved him,” Kuvira says sheepishly. Your mother looks unimpressed as her jaw begins to clench. “I have always loved your daughter though.”

“So you hid my daughter, my beautiful, amazing, and sweet daughter away like something to be ashamed of?” She takes a step closer, scowling. Kuvira feels like the collar of her jacket is choking her.

“No! I have never been ashamed of her, I always told her how much I loved her.”

“But you turned her into the other woman for your own selfish desires!”

“They weren’t selfish, they were for the good of the empire! She understood.” Kuvira thinks you understood but right now she’s not too sure. A kettle in the background begins to whistle.

“My daughter dreamed of the day she’d meet her soulmate, she had everything planned out and I know for a fact that the woman I raised would not be okay with what you’ve turned her into!” Your father quietly reenters the room with a tray that holds three teacups with steam coming from them.

“I love her, I just want to fix everything! It's why I came here,” that’s the real reason that compelled Kuvira to come here, if anyone knew you better than her, it’d be your parents.

“How is she doing?” Your father asks, Kuvira looks over at him and notices how sad he looks. His eyes are bloodshot and a few tears fall from his eyes before he wipes them away.

“She’s healthy but upset with me.”

“As she should be,” your mother mutters under her breath. He picks up a teacup and blows on it, “why is she upset?” His voice cracks.

“She wants me to end this, told me it's her or the empire and I don’t know what to do.” Kuvira sighs and runs a hand through her hair, messing her bun up a bit.

“And why haven’t you chosen her already?” Your father's voice is calm, there’s a sadness to it but he doesn’t shout or rage like your mother who has her back turned to Kuvira as she goes to pick up one of the teacups. She can see how tense your mother is, how angry she still is.

“Because it's my country, if I give it up to Wu and Suyin then I am turning my back on the people I promised to protect.”

“You once promised to protect Zaofu at all costs” your mother snips out, he places a hand on her shoulder and softly says “honey, please.” She relaxes just a fraction as she takes the seat beside him at the table, glaring at her tea.

“These people are vulnerable and need someone to make sure they feel safe again. I’m that person, and your daughter understood that, or I thought she did.”

Your father sets his cup down and pats the chair beside him that’s situated across from your mother. She shyly walks over to it, she doesn’t want to sit down but she’s already pissed your mom off just by existing and she’d rather not give her another reason to hate her.

“They were vulnerable, but you have gotten rid of the bandits and raiders. You’ve stabilized the empire as you promised, now it’s time to let go and hand over the reins to someone else.”

“I can’t do that,” Kuvira says, her heart is racing. Let someone else rule? Give up the control she craves? The idea makes her feel unsafe, like the second she does it someone will destroy not only her but also you.

“You have to, my daughter won’t stay with you otherwise. Are you really ready to give up love for power?” He hands her the last cup of tea, the scent of jasmine wafts up and fills her senses. She slowly goes to pick up the cup, her hands shaking.

She’s so overwhelmed, none of this is meant to be happening. She’s supposed to win and you're meant to love and support her, then she proposes with a beautiful emerald ring that she’d make herself and you’d say yes. That’s how it’s meant to go, that’s how she has envisioned it since day one.

“This isn’t how it’s meant to go” she confesses, your father sets a soft hand on her own to help stop the shaking.

“How do you think it’s meant to go?” And so she tells him what she just thought, and she adds on how both of you would continue to better this country together and maybe, one day in the far future, have a child.

“Did you ever ask Y/n if that’s what she wants?” Your mother tries to keep her voice calm, tries to keep from yelling at her again. Kuvira stares down at the cup, trying to wrack her brain around the time you’d chime in with the future you wanted, or a time she even asked. “Just because it’s the future you planned for her doesn’t mean it's the one she wants. You can’t just plan everything out without including your partner's opinions and desires into the equation.”

You once talked about what your wedding would be like with Kuvira chiming in every once in a while, but that was it. That was the only time you mentioned anything regarding the future.

“Love is about equality, you both should be putting in equal effort. It’s a delicate balance that takes time to learn, give, and take. It’s not always going to be perfect even with your soulmate but you make it work for each other. If my daughter stayed with you all these years then she must love you, but for her to put her foot down shows she has had enough.” Your father's voice is soothing and calms her down just a bit.

“But…” Kuvira’s voice shakes, “what do I do if I give up control? It’ll never go back to how it was before, how am I meant to go back to everyday life after everything I’ve done? After knowing I probably could have done more.”

“No one knows what life will be like after. But I think a few years down the road you could get back to the place you were at before, maybe a new and improved version due to all the knowledge you’ve acquired over the years and due to having Y/n with you,” he takes a sip of his tea after speaking and delicately sets it down on its saucer.

“I know you need control in your life Kuvira, it’s what made you good at being Captain, but you need to let go. Everyone has to let go at some point and this is your time,” your mother says. Kuvira’s eyes glance around the room as she feels her heart begin to pound, it feels like any second it’ll leap out of her chest. Let go? The idea sends her mind spiraling with horrifying scenarios of what might happen.

“We may not like you, but if you drop this once and for all, and make our daughter happy then,” your mother lets out a deep sigh “we will be here to support and help you.” Tears glisten in her eyes as she stares at the both of them. “If our daughter loves you then that must mean there’s still some good left in you.”

Kuvira begins to softly cry, a hand comes up to cover her mouth as her shoulders hunch in on themselves. Your dad lets out a soft sigh and says “c’mere,” before pulling her into his arms and hugging her. Kuvira doesn’t hug him back nor pull away, she just sits there and cries into his shoulder. She knows what she must do and it terrifies her, fills her with doubt, and causes her stomach to clench from anxiety.

“You need to bring her back to us, please,” he whispers, and Kuvira nods. Slowly he pulls away from her and offers her a gentle, comforting squeeze on the shoulder. She desperately wipes at her eyes, suddenly embarrassed to have cried in front of them, and lets out a shuddering breath.

“You should go find her,” your mother says. Kuvira stands on wobbly legs, her hand placed firmly on the table for support. When she’s fully upright your father pulls her back into a hug, a short one this time. Kuvira awkwardly pats his back until he lets go.

Your mother stays seated, staring her down. “Don’t break her heart,” she says. Kuvira vehemently nods, her eyes wide. She will do whatever it takes to protect your beautiful heart and if you forgive her she will cherish it every second of every day.

She leaves shortly after that, your dad gives her a cookie before letting her leave which turns out to be really good and she walks over to the tram station. It’s since been fixed so when she presses the button requesting its presence it zooms by and opens its doors for her. The chairs are still messed up, just laying there a mess of something hardly resembling what they used to be. The tram takes her out of the city and to the entrance where she wastes no time hopping into a jeep and speeding off.

The midmorning sun beats down, today is incredibly hot and causes little beads of sweat to form on her forehead. When she gets to the encampment Kuvira slows just barely and everyone moves out of the way at the sound of the car barreling through. She abruptly stops it and jumps down before heading into her tent.

Inside Kuvira marches to her radio, she disregards the state of it and doesn’t even notice the filing cabinet you broke as she tunes into the main radio station the encampment uses. “Radio Freedom, what do you need?”

“Find y/n and send her to my tent.”

“Of course, great uniter. I’ll tell all my men to search for her.” The voice stutters out a reply before she switches it off. Spirits she feels like she might go crazy whilst she waits for you. She leans against the front of her desk with her arms crossed as she tries to come up with some grand speech of how much she loves you, of how your love and presence is what has kept her sane over these last few years.

She looks up at the ceiling and sighs, the idea is terrifying but she chooses you, she’ll let go of her defenses and send her men home for you.

The sound of fabric rustling has Kuvira snapping her head back down to stare into your eyes. You look pissed, you don’t have on your jacket so the white undershirt sticks to your sweaty skin and you have your hair in a messy ponytail instead of the usual bun.

Kuvira wets her lips before speaking, “I spoke to your parents.” Your eyes widen at that, Kuvira continues “I didn’t realize I knew your mom, she helped train me when I first joined the guard.” And she hates my guts which I don’t blame her, Kuvira thinks. I let her down, just like I let you down.

You finally look into her eyes and spirits, even with that furious look on your face you take her breath away. “So?”

“She’s a blunt woman, and when I told her about us neither of your parents were pleased.” You wrap your arms around yourself and frown, she wishes she could know what’s going on inside your head. “But they gave me a piece of useful advice, something I probably could have had use of hearing all those years ago.”

She slowly walks over to you, hesitantly so. When she’s close enough you look her over and purse your lips. There’s a slight look of concern written on your features and it swells her heart with a hint of hope.

“That if I love you, it shouldn’t just be me taking from you, but by asking you to hide everything and go along with my plans that was exactly what I did. I realize now I never even asked what you want, what you envision when you see our future.”

You begin to silently cry and she has to use all of her willpower to keep from reaching forward to wipe away your tears.

“It should be equal. Give and take and be there for each other. There shouldn’t be punishments or silent treatment,” Kuvira pushes a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “What do you want?”

You squeeze your eyes shut at her words, your bottom lip trembling. You get lost in your thoughts, something you do often but Kuvira decides not to pull you out. She’ll give you all the time you need to reply.

“I want peace,” you say, your voice a mere whisper. But she hears you loud and clear. “I want this all to end and I want us to finally be able to love one another in front of others. I don’t want any of this, I can’t peacefully live in a world where this… this mission is a success.”

Kuvira takes a step forward and opens her mouth to pour out all of her feelings, to promise that she’ll end it when something interrupts your moment. A shout and gunfire pierce through the air. Kuvira’s heart drops and she rushes forward to look outside of the tent.

Her men are scrambling around like ants, stumbling to get to their places. She makes out a clash of fire and earth up ahead and runs out, leaving you behind. She turns a corner and comes face first with one of her men, instead of informing her of what’s going on he shoots a ball of fire at her. Kuvira’s eyes widen as she bends up a wall to protect her.

“C’mon oh great uniter! Fight me” he shouts. Kuvira’s nostrils flare as she pushes the wall forward towards the man, it hits him and sends him stumbling back. As she advances with hands clenched, ready to activate his bracelet he shoots a spiraling wave of fire out of his foot that has Kuvira jumping out of the way. “It’s even ground now,” he says in a smug tone as he raises her pant leg to show a naked ankle. What?

Her heart races as she stands back up, cracking her neck to the side. She fought the avatar, she can fight this puny fire bender. Kuvira gets into stance, smirking as she shoots out two pieces of metal, one wraps around his ankle and the other around his neck, and with a twist of her wrist, he’s flying backward, slamming into the metal wall of one of the guardhouses.

“Kuvira!” She hears you spit out, her head turns as she watches you desperately run over with an enraged look on your face. You bend the metal off the poor man, he falls to the floor with a groan. “Leave him alone.”

“He is defying me!” Her eyes widened in rage, how could you defend him? “He is one of my soldiers and he just tried to kill me.”

“He was never one of your soldiers!” Your fists are clenched as you try to control your anger, “you forced him into this!”

With both of you distracted he raises once more, letting out a pained groan before shooting a small, weaker bolt of fire. You shoot up a wall for the both of you, keeping your gaze trained on your lover. “It’s him or me.”

Kuvira lets out a growl of anger at your words, loyal earth empire soldiers rush past towards the battlefield, ignoring the lover's quarrel as they shout out commands to one another. “Why are you defending him!?”

“Because Kuvira what we did back then wasn’t right, because I made a promise to myself to protect them and I will not break it!” Her eyes widen, stumbling back a step. There’s so much going on in her head, she just wants to silence all the anger and confusion that burns within this situation.

“You freed him?” She asks incredulously, you thickly swallow before nodding.

“I freed all of them.” Your wall begins to crumble, the fire bender has since left, leaving the two of you to stare at one another. “And I’d do it again in a heartbeat. I should have never let you cage them in as you did. You asked me early what I want? I want you to let this war go, I want you to leave them alone and surrender!”

“I can’t do that!” Not now, not after being attacked, not after seeing that her men are in some sort of danger. Your hands reach up to cup her cheeks, eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Yes you can, I know you can Kuvira.”

She rips herself out of your grasp, suddenly feeling like your touch will poison her. Poison her resolve and burn away all of her control. She needs this war to thrive, she needs it more than air itself.

A deafening boom is heard from behind her, once more she leaves you behind but this time she feels you hot on her heels as she runs towards the battle. Kuvira vaguely makes out something moving in the air, she squints her eyes to figure out what it is and the object swoops down just a bit to drop down soldiers that aren’t hers. It’s a sky bison she realizes, that must mean Korra is here.

She sees that one of the people that dropped down is Bolin as he lava bends a circle around him and his team to protect them from her soldiers. He wastes no time as he bends up a chunk of earth and hurls it towards the soldiers, most don’t jump out of the way in time, the force of it knocks them down and causes them to pass out. She hopes they are just passed out.

The others around him are all different kinds of benders donning makeshift armor under their shaggy and ripped clothes, Kuvira realizes with a stunned expression that it’s the reeducation camp uniforms. Her heart pounds as more of her men fall all around her, the comforting words of your father worm their way into her head as she squeezes her eyes shut. The young dictator stumbles back and pulls at the roots of her hair in frustration, she can’t let this go, can’t give up.

This is the most in control she’s ever felt, she no longer fears for her life or for her future, it was within reach and exactly what she imagined it to be. With her rule, she thought she erased any chance of reliving her younger years, alone and heartbroken as the longing for someone to hold her ate her up. Suyin’s comforting words never worked, but the sound of her men marching did.

When Kuvira opens her eyes she sees that more of her men have fallen and Bolin’s group has moved on, she surges forward to eradicate them when your hand wraps around her forearm and pulls her back. She looks over her shoulder with a snarl, not realizing it’s you.

“Don’t make me choose between you and my country.”

“It shouldn’t be a tough decision, Kuvira.”

But if she does choose this war, this overabundance of control she will be alone and heartbroken because you will leave her. You made it clear yesterday that you won’t stand by and support this anymore, that you won’t stay by her side if she chooses this path. Your fingers through her hair work too, your soothing words are like a balm to her soul and your smile eases her into this warm state of calmness.

With you, she doesn’t need the marching of her men or the rush she gets when getting someone to sign over their land. You give it to her without a second thought, you give to her because you love her and your love doesn’t come with a price or consequences.

You tug her to the trunk of a jeep and force her climb onto it. When she stands up on the hunk of metal you grab her cheeks and force her to look at the battle ahead. More and more of her men are falling as air benders use their full force and mecha suits shoot them down. Kuvira then notices the lack of mecha suits on her side and how in the middle of the field there’s a clash of green uniforms going against one another. The field lights up with all forms of bending as each man readily gives their life to her cause.

“If you surrender your men will be fine! Kuvira be the woman I know you are, stand down!” You pull her eyes away from the scene so she can look at you, look into your eyes that are full of fear and desperation.

“Bu-” Her heart begins to race, she feels like she may vomit.

“I need you Kuvira! I need you more than them, so surrender,” you bite your lip. “For us, please Vira.”

You pull her into a breathtaking kiss that's anything but romantic, your fingers squeeze a bit tighter at her cheeks as you slant your lips against her own, she shakily brings her own hands up to grip your waist in a bruising hold.

When you pull away, there’s a tear racing down your cheek as you stare into her eyes. “Please.”

“Fine!” She spits out, her throat feels like it’s closing up as her fingers begin to shake. This is everything she’s worked towards for three years, every agonizing day spent pouring herself into documents and threatening governors and mayors into submitting to her will.

Every kiss she ever gave Baatar, every time she ignored your pleading eyes.

She’s about to give it all up for you and feels panic scrap through her as if it were wrapped in barbed wire and she doesn’t know what to do, her whole body shakes as she looks around at the mess she created.

“We need to get to the fro-” Your eyes widen, trained on something behind her.

“Watch out!” You scream, pushing her out of the way. An icicle bolts through the air, it all seems so slow and yet happens so fast. Kuvira goes stumbling back, barely able to keep herself up, her gaze moved from you during the push so when she hears the sound of you letting out some sort of strangled sound her head whips over to see the icicle lodged in your lower left stomach. Your white shirt begins to turn red as blood spills out. She’s frozen in place as she watches you slowly lift a hand to touch your wound as a pained whimper leaves your lips.

That terrible noise rips her out of her frozen state and she dashes over to hold you as you begin to fall to your knees. When Kuvira looks over to see where the icicle came from she looks into the wide, terrified eyes of one of the rebels. It’s one of the ones you helped free.

Before she can even think of all the ways she’s going to kill that woman you croak out “Vira?” Her gaze flickers back to yours, tears are welling up in your eyes and Kuvira feels the warm blood begin to spill onto her hands.

“I’m gonna save you, gonna find someone to heal you.” Her voice is high pitched and cracking but she doesn’t care. “You are not going to die.” Kuvira looks around for someone to help save you, her one chance at happiness from going up in flames. She feels her vision blur as she desperately turns her head in all directions when it lands on the blue robes of the water benders fighting on Korra’s side.

One of them has to be a healer, she thinks. “I need to lay you down so I can drive,” you grip at her wrist, your eyes widening at the idea of her letting go of you. “It’s the only way I can save you, I’m so sorry.”

Suddenly she doesn’t care about anything but you, her fear of losing control has been replaced with the fear of losing you. She can’t lose you, you're the light in her life and without you, she’ll once more be the abandoned, unlovable ward of Suyin.

She quickly leans down to press a firm kiss to your forehead before gently setting you down in the trunk of the car before clumsily jumping into the front seat and turning the key. The jeep roars to life, the only problem is how her pathway is blocked.

Kuvira stands in her seat and pulls two large walls from the earth, soldiers stumble out of the way as she pushes it through the battlefield, offering a small, clear pathway for her to drive through. She floors it and hears you groaning in the background, causing her to grip the steering wheel harder.

Her hands keep slipping from being soaked in your blood, she fights with all her might to not look down at them, knowing she needs to focus on the road ahead. Her wall ends halfway so with one hand she bends two walls again, it takes a bit longer and these walls are much shorter and less sturdy but it does the trick.

Suddenly Korra appears at the end of the pathway, her hands once lit with fire extinguish at the frantic look on Kuvira’s face. She makes it to the end of the pathway, Korra jumps out of the way as Kuvira slams her foot on the brakes. The car comes to a screeching halt and without a second to lose Kuvira is scrambling out of the front seat to where she left you.

Kuvira lets out a loud, strangled sob at the sight before her. Your skin is so pale and there’s so much blood, the floor of the trunk is coated in the deep red and Kuvira bites back a sob. You look up at her, softly saying “Vira?”

Kuvira’s wet hands go to rest on your cheeks, she looks up at Korra and screams “I need a healer!” Her scream snaps Korra out of her daze and she rushes over to the jeep, when she opens the door of the trunk and sees blood begin to trickle off the edge, her heart drops.

She’s never met you before but Suyin told her enough to know you're the one who helped them. She climbs into the truck, her brown pants slowly sticking to her skin from the blood.

The icicle has melted now, leaving in its wake a gaping hole as she summons water from one of the vats they brought for the benders and encases her hands in it. She’s only ever healed herself and it was never something so severe.

“Please,” Kuvira says to the avatar, her wet words scraping out of her throat as she continues to cry. “Please save her.” Korra nods, keeping her gaze on your wound as her hands begin to glow and hover over the gaping hole.

Neither of them notices how the fight has halted, Kuvira’s soldiers waiting for her to end the avatar due to how close they are. Their leader begins to sob as she desperately holds your neck so she can lift your head and set it on her lap. The metal probably isn’t very comfortable. Your cheeks and neck now have bloody handprints on them as Kuvira repeats like a mantra “You’ll be fine, you’re gonna be fine. I love you so much, you’re gonna live.”

Korra calls over her shoulder “I need another healer!” Two waterbenders rush over, water already bent around their hands as they climb up to help. All of their hands glow as they hover over your wound, “she’s lost a lot of blood” one of them says to the other.

“Just fix it!” Kuvira demands, her heart dropping at his comment, neither of them acknowledges her as they continue to work on her soulmate, one of your hands weakly grab at her wrist so she’ll look at you, her gaze snaps to yours and she softens in an instant. “Everything’s gonna be okay, my love. Okay?”

“Okay,” you weakly reply. Kuvira rests her forehead against your own, trying to keep from screaming out. “I love you, Vira.”

“I love you too, y/n. I love you so much.” She continues to repeat herself, you look up into her eyes with a small, adoring smile.

It feels like hours go by as they work on you. Whilst the three water tribe members try to save your life, Suyin walks up with a solemn look on her face. “You need to end this, Kuvira.”

Her eyes pull away from yours to look into those of Suyin’s and she angrily spits out “I don’t care, end it. So long as Y/n lives I don’t care.” Her men at the very front of her army hear her though and all let out differing noises of surprise. “I surrender.”

Suyin begins to spit out orders on how to arrest her men, she sends the other Beifongs back to Zaofu to clean up Kuvira’s mess whilst everyone else stays on the battlefield to help her arrest and detain the earth empire loyalists. Kuvira places a kiss on your forehead and closes her eyes so she doesn’t have to watch it all be ripped from her, she focuses on your breathing as she tunes out the youngest Beifong sister.

Every once in a while you groan out in pain and Kuvira’s heart clenches with fear each time. “We’ve done all we can for now,” Korra says softly from behind her. Kuvira looks over her shoulder at the Avatar and sees Suyin walk up to the edge of the trunk with her arms crossed over her chest. “You can send me away to prison once she’s better, just don’t take me away from her just yet.”

“I made a promise to Y/n and I may not like it but I will stand by it. By ending this war you will be put under house arrest, we need Y/n awake before we can do that though.” Suyin sighs, Kuvira’s gaze shifts to your own at Suyin’s words but she finds them shut.

Frantically, fearful that you won’t ever wake up, she places two fingers on your pulse. It’s weak, but there. “She’s just sleeping, she’ll need lots of it.”

“Y/n said she’ll choose the city for herself, for now, we’ll need to cuff you and take the both of you back to Zaofu so she can get the rest she needs.”

She pulls your body up and into her arms so she can hold you, your head lulls onto her shoulder and you let out a soft groan at the movement.

She places a kiss on your forehead and closes her eyes as she hears orders being given by the younger Beifong sister. She doesn’t listen, too focused on your breathing to care. She has willingly given up her army for you, and she’d do it again if it means saving your life.

#kuvira #kuvira x reader #kuvira/reader #kuvira fanfic #lok fanfic #legend of korra fanfic #legend of korra #lok #fanfic #the great divide

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ask-the-riders · 3 years

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Forging A Bond

Welp,, I wrote this a little while ago, but thanks to my ADD, I kept getting distracted and forgetting to do anything with it ^^"

In summary, Retribution had caught the attention of a stranger, who in turn had decided to follow him for a bit. He tries to ignore them, but inevitably, they wind up making their presence known and introducing themselves, completely catching him by surprise

Retribution let out a soft breath, keeping his gaze forward as he walked. He'd been able to sense the feelings of a second person for a while now. Although he found it odd, he detected no malicious intent, so he attempted to ignore them. Dried, dead leaves crunched under his boots as he kept walking, fighting the urge to glance back over his shoulder. Reaching his destination, he lowered himself onto one knee, delicately placing a small bouquet of flowers in front of a headstone. The rider remained silent, part of his cloak fluttering in the breeze as he reached out to gingerly trace his fingers over the name on the stone. Remembering the human who was buried there, he frowned, furrowing his brow bones and murmuring, "If only I could've been there for you in your final moments..."

He could sense the approaching soul behind him, already aware that it belonged to the person who'd followed him here. Not even remotely surprised as they called out to him, "Well, it looks like someone beat me here." At the unfamiliar voice, he arched a brow bone, "I'm afraid so. What business do you have here?" They hummed, drawing nearer, "I'm merely paying my respects to the fallen children here. And you?" Retribution stood, straightening his clothes, "I'm also paying my respects... I lost a dear friend quite a while ago, so I'm visiting her grave, specifically." The stranger gave off a pulse of sympathy and made a sound in understanding, "Ah. I'm sorry for your loss... I can't imagine the way you must feel."

Ret watched curiously as a figure passed by him, moving to the next row of graves. Despite the long coat they wore and the hood hiding their face, he immediately noticed the simple, yet elegant gown they were wearing, along with bones as white as fresh snow. With their back to him, he watched them curiously, silent for a moment before speaking again, "So... Any particular reason why you followed me here?" The stranger momentarily tensed up, "...I should've known that you would've caught on. You are a version of Nightmare, so it's in your nature to be incredibly observant." Retribution stiffened at hearing his old name, his brow bones furrowing, "Ok, who are you, and why were you following me?" The figure let out a deep sigh, pushing their hood back off of their head to reveal a simple crown that sat atop their skull. Turning to face Retribution, they proceeded to unbutton their coat, pulling part of it aside to reveal a family crest stitched into the fabric over their chest.

The rider's sockets widened as he recognized it, and blatantly ignoring his scowl, the figure before him gave a small curtsey, her violet and grey eye lights meeting his cyan ones, "I apologize for the delayed introduction. I am Nyx, daughter of Nightmare, and the current queen of the kingdom of Regoria." Retribution stared at her for a moment in silence as he tried to process the situation; His original counterpart was a father, huh?... Would that mean that, in a way, he was a father, too? As if Nyx could tell what he was thinking, she hummed, "Yes, it's true. The 'walking tar pit,' as some call him, has children. There's myself, and I have a brother, as well."

He blinked in surprise; It wasn't just the one kid, it was two now? Who in their right mind would willingly sleep with his counterpart?? Twice, at that.

Ret cleared his throat, "That's... Interesting. I'll admit, I wasn't expecting to learn anything like this today. That still doesn't explain why you were following me though, your Highness." Nyx rolled her eye lights and couldn't help but smile slightly, "At ease, Retribution. I wasn't following you with the intention of causing you any problems or harm. I was curious about you and wondered what you were doing here, that's all." The rider made a face, still at a loss, "I'd like to ask how you know my name, but I feel like I should be more concerned about why you were curious about me." The princess laughed softly, "I can't blame you for being wary of me, but I'm serious. I don't mean you any harm, and I'm here of my own accord. My curiosity stems from the things I've read about you in my father's journal."

He narrowed his eyes a bit in suspicion, "Oh, really? What kinds of things has he written about me?" Nyx shrugged her shoulders, remaining completely at ease, "It's nothing incriminating, don't worry. He seems to be logging the differences between the two of you and jotting down notes about your interactions, for the most part. I can see some of the obvious differences between you already, but I'm intrigued. I'd like to observe with my own eyes." The rider arched a brow bone, "Tell me what differences you think you see." The princess made her way over to a bench and sat down, tilting her head as she looked at him, "Well, there's the obvious lack of tentacles and goop. Your eyes are cyan by default while his are violet, and you appear ever so slightly shorter than him."

He made a sound in acknowledgment, beginning to approach her. As he stopped in front of the bench and clasped his hands behind his back, she smiled again, amusement bleeding into her tone, "While you appear quite different from him physically, you're also very similar, at the same time." Retribution scoffed, "You must be joking. I'm nothing like him, and that's a fact." Nyx leaned back on her hands, "I'm not. The way you hold yourself and that stance you're in are quite familiar. I've seen them countless times from my father. I'm getting the impression that you're stubborn and full of denial, as well." Ret was briefly taken aback, glancing away from her. Reading him with ease, she straightened, lightly patting the seat beside her, "Come, sit with me. My schedule for today is clear and I'm available to talk as long as you want, if you'd be open to it. I know that by default, you probably don't give others your trust very easily, and I understand. I would like to learn more about you, and in turn, I believe I can provide you with answers for whatever questions are floating around in that head of yours."

Retribution hesitated a few seconds before letting out a deep sigh, moving to sit beside her. Nyx's brow bones furrowed as she looked at him, slowly lifting a hand and beginning to reach for his face. She stopped just short of actually touching him, clearing her throat, "May I?" The rider stared at her hand, considering the options; He could either allow it, with the worst case scenario being an attack, or he could tell her no, and the worst case scenario would again, be an attack.

He weighed the pros and cons, and with a sigh, he gave a small nod, "Go ahead." The princess offered him a tiny smile, delicately tracing her fingertips over the faint hints of cracks that framed one of his sockets. She leaned a bit closer, her eyes squinting as she took in the way the cracks had healed. They were smooth and so light that she probably wouldn't have even seen them if he wasn't so close to her. Tilting her head, her brow bones furrowed as she murmured, "You were hurt, quite some time ago... I can see the cracks, and they look like they've healed pretty well." He glanced away from her, beginning to sense the concern and sympathy she felt, "They have, and I'm glad they healed this way, honestly. It's better than them healing wrong and leaving me looking like some freakshow."

Nyx withdrew her hands after a few more seconds had passed, watching him curiously; If he was anything like her father when it came to the way he dealt with his emotions, she'd be able to read him like a book. Right now, he was trying to maintain his proud, stubborn front, but in the way he avoided her gaze, his discomfort was as clear as day. Whether it was anxiety, him being secretive, or a lack of self esteem, she wasn't sure, but at the very least, she could tell that it had nothing to do with him being deceitful. She offered him a slight smile, breaking the formality in an effort to provide some reassurance, "Nah, I don't think you'd look like a freakshow. You might look pretty badass with some cracks and scars, actually."

He arched a brow bone, glancing at her and clearing his throat, his tone holding a very faint hint of amusement, "I appreciate the thought. Though, I'm surprised your father lets you talk that way." Nyx couldn't help but smile slightly again, lightly nudging him with her shoulder, "Are you talking about the cursing, or the fact that I gave a compliment?" The rider hummed, "Both." She laughed softly, the sound catching Ret off guard. He watched her, blinking as he noticed the softness of her features; She definitely looked like a princess, and she spoke like one too, for the most part. As his eye lights caught sight of the bandages wrapped around her hands and the barely visible scratches and scuff marks that decorated her arms, he began to wonder if she also behaved as such.

He was pulled from his thoughts as she let out a sigh in contentment, "Compliments, I could see your reasoning for. After all, he doesn't seem like the type that'd give any form of praise, does he? The cursing, however... He's not a fan of it, but he doesn't complain unless it becomes excessive. I wonder, do you have any children that you allow to curse?" Retribution's mind briefly wandered, settling on a memory of Pestilence and Abrael playing with dirt, and he shook his head, "I have no children of my own. The closest I've got would be my nephew and my idiot friends." The princess blinked, appearing momentarily surprised, "Oh, I see. I'm not sure what I was expecting, but I assumed that you must have at least one child by now." He tilted his head, "Nope. Just because your father and I share a similar origin story and are, in a sense, the same person, I'm afraid we live two completely different lives. He's got you and your brother, a league of bad guys that he's assembled, and he's still pretty focused on killing Dream, last time I checked. Meanwhile, I work in a team with other monsters, though not as their leader. I have no children, and instead of a brother, I have a sister."

Nyx's eyes widened the smallest bit in surprise and she mirrored him, tilting her head as well, "You're not the leader of your team, you have no children, and your Dream is a girl?" Well aware of her surprise and increasing interest, he made a sound in confirmation, "That's correct. The only thing with my Dream is that she doesn't go by that name anymore. Rather than that, her name is Conquest." The princess seemed to perk up, "Oh! I think I know her, actually!" Retribution's brow bones furrowed and a look of confusion crossed his face, "How so?" She straightened her back, her posturing becoming proud, "She knows me as Lady Night, and is a follower of mine. I give her odd jobs every so often, but her primary task is to protect the children who have no one else they can count on, who makes them feel safe and loved. Between the work she does for Death and the work she does for me, she's being paid quite the pretty penny."

The rider stared at her in disbelief, and at his expression, she did her best not to giggle. He was silent for a few seconds before speaking again, "...You're being serious right now?" She nodded, "Of course I am." Retribution let out a long, low whistle, "Well color me shocked. You're still so young, but you already rule a kingdom and have your own little following that, based on what Conquest's told me, seems like it's bordering on you being viewed as some ethereal, otherworldly being. I bet your father's proud of you for achieving so much." Nyx shrugged her shoulders, smiling slightly, "I believe he is, yes... He's just not very good at expressing it, some days. He doesn't quite understand the concept of protecting others without any form of personal gain. To him, I'd be better off at the castle, helping him plot my uncle's murder."

Ret took a moment to debate what he should say next, his brow bones knit. Deciding to wing it and hope for the best, he hummed, "Ah, I see... He and I are technically the same person, even though we're very different. I'm not sure if it would mean anything to you, but if he's having a hard time expressing how proud he is of you, then I'll do it for him." The princess's eyes widened slightly, and she remained quiet as he pressed on, "The multiverse works in the strangest of ways, so I'm honestly not sure if you'd count as my child or not. Regardless of that, I have no shame in admitting that I'm proud of you for all that you've done, and I think you're doing what's right. Your choices might not always make sense to him, but at the very least, they make sense to me."

The princess stared at him in surprise, taking a moment to collect herself as her cheekbones flushed violet and she glanced away, "...I officially met you for the first time, not even a full hour ago, and you're already giving me some version of the 'if you were my child' speech?" Retribution's cheekbones also became flushed and he shifted awkwardly, also glancing away from her, "If that's how you'd like to look at it, I guess. Forgive me for being so straightforward, Nyx. I'm not normally like this, and I genuinely have no idea what my problem is right now." She let out a soft sigh, "It's alright. I'm not normally like this either. I think I might have a theory though, as to what the reason for this sudden, out of character attitude change is."

He tilted his head, "What do you think it could be?" The princess lifted a hand, resting it over her sternum, "Maybe it's a bit of a leap, but it's possible that it has something to do with our souls. If yours is similar enough to my father's, then it could be attempting to forge a connection of some sort with mine." The rider made a face, considering it for a moment - she was right, it was a pretty big thing to assume - but at the same time, it also made sense, in a way. Fighting the urge to hide in his cloak, he spoke again, his voice a bit softer than it'd previously been, "I suppose that makes sense... Have you seen your father's soul before, Nyx?" She gave a slow nod, glancing up to sheepishly meet his gaze, "Yes, I have... It's been a while, but when I was a child, I used to have these awful nightmares. He'd calm me down by holding me in his arms and materializing his soul, while his tentacles kind of acted like a shield."

Retribution listened quietly and offered no complaint as she continued speaking, a small smile on her face as she recalled the instances when her father had used his soul to comfort her, "I remember it being warm, and how he sounded when he either told me a story or began to hum this one song, in an effort to calm me down... His soul's corrupted by excess negativity, and it has been for a while, but there were these thin slivers of it that weren't concealed by the goop, and the prettiest purple light would shine through. It wasn't a lot, but it was enough to cast a glow across my room, and it made me feel safe, somehow." Although he was having a hard time picturing his counterpart ever being that soft with anyone, he chose not to voice his thoughts; The look on Nyx's face was peaceful and happy, and he decided that he preferred it over one that was upset and insulted.

His cheekbones dusted a slightly brighter shade of cyan and he looked away from her, allowing his soul to materialize and float just outside his chest, "Was it anything like this?" Her eye lights locked on his soul and her violet blush became a tiny bit brighter as well. Taking in the apple shaped soul before her that was only partially coated by corruption, she couldn't help but stare, marveling at it's soft purple luminescence as she breathed out, "Yes... It's nearly identical. The only difference is that yours isn't as corrupted, and therefore it shines a little brighter." He made a sound in understanding, pushing his soul back into his chest, "I see... I won't ask to see your soul because I know how personal that can be, but I'm curious. Is yours at all similar to mine and his?"

She shrugged her shoulders, refusing to look at him as her own soul began to materialize. Ret watched as it took on a similar shape, but arched a brow bone in confusion as it became a vibrant orange, small yellow speckles dotted across its surface. Before he had the chance to ask about the color, she spoke, "...It's weird, I know. I'm a monster, but I have human soul traits. You can thank my mother for that one." The rider blinked in confusion, tilting his head, "Your mother's a human? What about that brother you mentioned?" Nyx made a face, "She was, yes... For whatever reason though, she was murdered when my brother, Kazimir, and I were still babies. Kazimir himself is also a monster, but he has a human soul trait, as well. Mine was originally just bravery, but it developed the justice trait after a while because of my line of work, and Kazimir has the integrity trait. It's possible that he could've developed a secondary one like me, but I haven't asked about it."

He watched Nyx push her soul back into her chest and sighed, offering her a small, reassuring smile, "Well that's pretty neat. I didn't think it was weird either, by the way. It wasn't what I was expecting, but there's nothing wrong with the way it is. If you ask me, I think it suits you." Nyx nearly gaped at him and he rolled his eye lights in amusement; Never in a million years did he think that this was what he'd be doing today. He didn't know that his counterpart had children, and he would've never guessed that he'd get to meet either of them, much less have such an oddly pleasant conversation. He didn't think he'd ever allow anyone other than Famine and Conquest to see his soul, and while he did realize the risks that came with doing such a thing, he didn't feel that Nyx was a threat.

Nyx, despite being his miscreant counterpart's daughter, felt familiar, somehow. It was like he'd met her somewhere before, and even stranger yet, it felt like it would be safe to trust her. There was an odd warmth in his chest that he had mixed feelings about, and he was struggling to fully grasp what it meant. On one hand, it reminded him of the warmth he felt when he was with his partner, but on the other, it also reminded him of the warmth he felt when he spent time with his nephew, as well. He'd literally met Nyx maybe an hour or so ago, but his soul seemed to be making an attempt to form a bond with hers already, and he bit back a scoff at how ridiculous this entire situation was becoming.

It was strange and downright unnatural, but he didn't feel the need to complain very much. Nyx looked completely content, and as long as she wasn't attacking him, then he supposed that was what mattered most.

#writing #four horsemen of the apocalypse #riders of the apocalypse #undertale #undertale au #retribution.exe #nyx.exe #lady night

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unweavinglies · 4 years

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Gonta Gokuhara Character Analysis: When a Genius is Treated like a Child

So a quick disclaimer: Yes, I am very aware that this is most likely not canon, or at least not what the writers intended on being canon, nor am I saying that this is 100% canon and should be considered as such. This is just a fan theory/analysis I came up with for my own enjoyment and wanted to share with others, as I like coming up with theories/analysis posts and reworking canons to make enhanced stories and character development in my perspective. I firmly believe that the idea of making theories isn’t supposed to be a shouting contest to see which opinion is the most loud and correct, but should be something to share with others and find acceptance and understanding in different interpretations, even if you don’t agree with them.

Well, this has been a long time coming, hasn’t it?

I’ve been talking about wanting to do this analysis for months now to various friends and acquaintances, but I’ve only had the motivation to do as such recently, after writing a short story that dived deeper into Gonta’s mindset over the Mercy Killing Plot he and Kokichi attempted to carry out. Regardless of that, however, Gonta has been one of my favorite characters for quite some time, and I really feel like his character arc and the unfortunate tragedy behind the unintentional mistreatment of Gonta via his classmates.

So without further adieu, let’s talk about that--about what happens when a genius is treated like a child.

Warning, this does discuss some rather unfortunate topics, such as ableism, depression/self loathing, and the concept of mercy killing. Viewer discretion is advised.

The first thing we need to elaborate on, is why I am calling Gonta a “genius.” Gonta has shown difficulty in understanding simple concepts, and struggles to follow along complicated plots, such as we see in his Salmon Mode Event where he mentions that he cannot follow the plot of high fantasy stories because they tend to be so complicated. He even refers to himself as not very smart, tragically enough.

However, not is all what it seems for Gonta, as his intellect is a matter of fact, and not just an analysis, and the game’s introduction of him opens up this fact to the player in a round about way that may or may not be so subtle.

Gonta admits here that he was a wild child, lost in the forest for ten years. While the logistics are... questionable, this is a work of fiction, thus I will suspend some disbelief. Gonta being lost in the forest for ten years means that he was probably about 5-8 years old when he was lost, depending on how old he is in the game.

Touching upon this briefly, studies of wild children, specifically referencing this case here, have an extremely hard time readjusting and learning to human language, customs, and interaction. The younger a child is upon becoming a wild child and the longer they are in the wild, the less likely they will be able to learn language and certain social behaviors and skills. While it is not impossible, the likelihood of Gonta being 15 or 16 in the game is very low, and even impossible once I elaborate, and we can safely assume that with the context of him being a wild child, he is probably at least 17 years old. So a safe assumption is that Gonta was lost in the forest when he was about 7.

(Note: I am very well aware of Gonta’s potential forest family not being wolves, and instead the reptites, but these creatures Gonta speaks of very well be his own imagination spiking from the isolation from humanity, or be something else entirely. Gonta makes several references to video game characters as well, claiming he met them in real life, so I consider it highly unlikely that “reptites” are an exception to this. Either way, it won’t matter if you believe otherwise, just that it may change certain aspects of what I’m about to say in regarding education and the sort.)

What’s the point of this elaboration? Well, quite a lot, once you remember that Gonta is the Ultimate Entomologist.

Firstly, there is the fact that Gonta is a high school student at all. Gonta was lost at a very young age--it would be impossible for him to be, since not only had he spent 10 years int he wild, but he also had to rejoin human society, relearn human language and customs, and then be put back into formal education. If Gonta is still a teenager and not over 21, then Gonta would have to cram in a decade’s worth of formal education into a few months, or a few years, at most.

This makes Gonta a literal prodigy.

Had Gonta not been isolated from humanity for a decade, Gonta would have been a child prodigy, a literal genius with an intellect that couldn’t be so easily matched. Having the capacity to learn advance mathematics, language (although in the English version, he is struggling with speak (speaking with the infamous “caveman” speech pattern) scientific methods, all of it within such a short amount of time proves that Gonta is, without a shred of doubt, a genius.

Even if you take the aforementioned reptites into account, it only makes Gonta’s accomplishments slightly less impressive, depending on your interpretation of what the reptites actually are. This is because Gonta still had to engage with formal education, and even in the best case scenario where the reptites were fully advanced beings with a civilization and education (which I quite doubt, if they were, then why not give Gonta back to the human race when he was still a child? Why not guide him back to his kind? Why keep him? Even if they were afraid of humanity, it would be far, far worse for the humans to find them while looking for their lost son... I digress.) Gonta still had to learn Japan’s education. Their history, their language, their social customs--and then, Gonta had to learn how to be an entomologist.

You need to go to college to be an entomologist.

According to this website here, the basic, bare bones higher education one needs in order to apply for certain positions related to entomology is a bachelor’s degree, with most positions and places requiring a doctoral decree. There are, of course, youth clubs for students under eighteen, but from my understanding, in order to be considered an entomologist, you need a college degree.

Gonta is a high school student.

For him to be considered an Ultimate Entomologist, Gonta would have to have taken college courses and gotten some kind of degree in order to be recognized as such. Thus, Gonta is still learning a higher education within a short period of time that is incredible for any human being his age, whether it be as drastic as him having no sort of education while living in the wild, or living with the reptites.

Either way, it is safe to say that Gonta is very intelligent, whether or not he is potentially a prodigy for it.

However, this has very unfortunate implications of the way Gonta is treated by his peers in the game.

Not only does Tsumugi here reenforce that idea in everyone else’s mind...

She blatantly tells Gonta that he was being manipulated and or “tricked” into abducting everyone...

When, in actuality, not only did Gonta know exactly what he was doing:

Kokichi even elaborated on his plans quite explicitly to Gonta:

And earlier on, the rest of the class had been treating him differently than they treat one another, sort of like he was a young child they needed to guide.

For example;

Kirumi assumes Gonta is not very aware that hitting someone with such an object is dangerous... despite him being a peer to his classmates and a young man.

And when Gonta has a pretty valid concern;

He is instructed against it and/or ignored on the subject:

Even Kaede slips up a little;

And during the investigation...

Himiko is 100% convinced here that Gonta is the culprit, to the point where she is trying to trick him with this kind of phrasing.

“Are you not, not the culprit?” equates to “Are you the culprit?”

“Are you not, not, not the culprit?” equates to... I believe it would be “Are you not the culprit?”

And that’s the thing:

Like how even I was confused and unsure about the triple ‘nots’ of Himiko’s statement, Gonta is too. Very reasonably so, actually--it’s extremely awkward phrasing purposefully meant to manipulate Gonta into saying he’s the culprit of Rantaro’s murder, and it takes Kaito and Himiko to realize that it was them causing the problem when Kaede called them out on such.

And again, after Gonta explains his actions during the murder, he gets very frustrated;

Already, we are seeing the effects piling up, leading to a frustrated, angry outburst.

And by far, one of the worst examples of this sort of unintentional ableism is this:

And Himiko even just... flat out does this:

By “dumbing down” the explanation of right and left, and not noticing that Gonta is left handed, she caused him to accidentally switch the wires on the headset, causing the memory error and making this entire trial all the more worse for him. By treating him like a child, like the theme of this trial, she only made things worse for him.

And that’s the problem.

Despite Gonta trying to tell everyone that he has no idea what they’re even talking about, everyone just assumes he “can’t understand the Virtual World” and brushes him off. Again and again, Gonta was treated like a child and brushed off, and this time, it came with a heavy consequence.

These instances of “guiding” Gonta are subtle, and on their own, aren’t much to address as anything more than suggestions or words of caution. However, there is a very clear theme of “we have to tell Gonta what he should do” that starts in Chapter 1 and continues on until the end of Chapter 4. They’re unintentionally telling him that Gonta needs to be guided and needs to be reminded of pretty obvious and basic knowledge, and worst of all, that he can’t be trusted to think for himself and thus needs someone to tell him how to think and feel.

If it was one or two times, that would be a whole other story. However, these instances pile up, higher and higher throughout the entire span of Gonta’s time in the Killing Game, and the majority of the class ends up dismissing or ignoring Gonta’s concerns.

This sparks a growing desire to prove himself, to prove that he can be useful during the trials. To prove to his peers that he can do something on his own, think for himself, decide for himself, except even until his final moments;

Even after Gonta’s Alter Ego telling himself and everyone explicitly that he was not tricked into killing Miu...

... No one listens.

Instead of listening to Gonta, over and over, they continue to brush him off and treat him like a child they had to care for, and yet no one stopped to consider that Gonta is a young man. An intelligent, young man who’s socially awkward, but never the less, a peer to them. Yet they didn’t treat him like a peer, and in the end...

Gonta died thinking he was an idiot. A child. A burden who made everything worse for everyone else. They all considered him as a child, and that’s how they saw him even in his final moments.

Gonta throughout the game constantly tries to prove himself, but no one is paying attention. When he learned of the Secret of the Outside World, Gonta didn’t even have anyone else to turn to for help or comfort. His feelings of uselessness compounded by the desperation to prove himself as an equal to everyone else drove him to agreeing to mercy kill the rest of the group... because how else was a stupid, burden of a child supposed to help anyone as he was? Even though he knew killing was wrong, with Kokichi’s plan, he was able to do something “for everyone,” and even that compounded into the ultimate failure.

It’s an unfortunate reality, because had the class treated him as a fellow classmate and peer, this might have been preventable.

Either way, what do you think? Was discussing the unintentional class ableism in depth towards Gonta a bit... too much? I do believe this is the first time I’ve ever done such a post, so you’ll have to forgive me. It’s also been quite a while since I made a proper analysis, hasn’t it? I must be a little rusty...

I will say--please, do not use this post for any discourse regarding the ableism and what have you if you choose to agree with this interpretation. I will not stand for it.

Either way, I hope you at least found this post to be food for thought. See you all next time.

#gonta gokuhara #danganronpa v3 #danganronpa #analysis #theory #character analysis #ableism mention tw #self hatred mention tw

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asterian · 3 years

Text

Moon beast (Captain Rex x reader) (Werewolf au)

Summary: Rex got bitten by a strange creature during a mission, leaving him wounded and unexpectedly transforming him into a beast.

Words: 2.3k

A/n: Hi, this was a request but Tumblr has been messing with my post and deleted some asks. Well, anyways, this was really fun to write and I hope you like it as much as I do. As always thanks for reading.

It was almost midnight when it all started.

The boys had returned from the battlefield a couple of hours ago, defeated and wounded.

The mission to liberate the planet from separatist occupation turned out to be a trap, leaving as its consequences the loss of at least half a battalion of troopers and a whole squadron of starfighters.

Rex was among the wounded, bitten by some sort of beast. And now, as he rested in the medbay, he felt … strange.

Something was off.

He could feel it in his bones, he could feel them moving, growing. He felt how every inch of his body burned hotter than mustafar lava. This was no good. He felt dizzy and soon allusions started to fill his mind giving him glims of images of the woods, the moon and a beast with sharp teeth and killer eyes.

Rex shook his head in a desperate attempt to get rid of the images that haunted his mind, grabbing the sheets trying to hold all the pain he was feeling and regain some of the control of his body but instead felt his own nails digging on the flesh of his palms. The world around him started to get blurry and all Rex could feel was pain, it was like something was destroying him from within.

A new and more powerful wave of pain ran through his body, enough to make him finally lose all the control as a scream left his throat. Then everything turned black.

At the other side of the ship, you were working on a very damaged y-wing, doing your best to repair the poor piece of metal that used to fly, but your mind was in another place, you were worried about Rex. He was wounded and alone in the infirmary, exhausted after the mission. You wished you could be there with him.

Suddenly the sirens of the hangar went on, getting you out of your thoughts.

Everyone on the hangar started to question if the ship was under attack since no one gave the "Battle stations" order, then the voice of Admiral Yularen came through the speakers:

"Attention to all stations. There has been a security break at the medical bay, the intruder is armed and dangerous. If you spot it, shoot to kill! I repeat, there has been a security break…."

"Rex" was all you could say before rushing to the medbay.

Your head was plagued with horrible scenarios about what could have happened as you ran through the maze that was the Resolute. Wishing nothing had happened to him, hoping he was safe.

When you arrived at the medbay you were greeted by destruction. Everything was broken and there were sharp claws marked on the walls. What kind of thing could leave such marks? Well it certainly wasn't a battle droid.

You desperately searched for any remaining troopers in hopes to find your beloved Captain, without luck.

You were about to keep looking for Rex when the lights went off.

The darkness only lasted a few seconds before the emergency lights came in, followed by the sound of blaster fire and clones screaming, not far from where you were.

Something was killing the soldiers, something dangerous, something wild.

Fear spread through your body and unconsciously ran in the opposite direction, turning in every corner that came your way, trying to put as much distance as possible between you and whoever was on board. But it was useless.

The monster was chasing after you, just like a hunter after its prey.

Your feet tripped over something, making you hit the hard durasteel of the floor. As you tried to get up you heard steps approaching along with a growl that send panic to your whole self. Gathering all your courage, you turned around as slowly as you could and then you saw it.

Big sharp teeth sticking out of its mouth, if that could be called a mouth; claws as sharp as a vibroblade that matched with the marks you saw on the medbay; the monster was covered from head to toe in a soft white fur and had bright golden eyes that seemed threatening yet familiar. At first glance it looked like a loth-wolf but then it stood on two legs, like a human would. It was as tall as a Wookie, maybe a bit taller but twice as menacing.

You were frozen in your place, incapable of moving and afraid to do so.

The beats took a couple of steps towards you, hunger and murder on its eyes. "This is it" you thought.

But then when it was mere inches from you it stopped, looking at you instead with kindness and compassion almost in a tender way.

The killer eyes you saw seconds ago were replaced with a pair of loving ones.

Something was in front of you, it was a beast, a monster, yet in his eyes all you could see was a human, a lover.

Rex.

Your eyes widened open at the realization. It was him, but how? Your hand unconsciously reached to touch his face but before your hand could get close to him a blaster shot came out of nowhere almost hitting Rex's shoulder, causing him to let out a roar that sent shivers down your spine.

"No!" You screamed. "Wait!"

Soon more troopers came storming the hallway, blasting your lover who desperately ran away.

You tried to go after him but were stopped by an arm around your waist.

"Hey, easy there, (y/n)." you heard Jesse say as you struggled to get out of his grasp.

"Let me go!"

"That thing is dangerous" he said pointing in the direction Rex was seconds ago.

"He's not!" you barked at him, "Jesse, please, let me go!" you cried out.

"The kriff is wrong with you?"

"You don't understand." you told him finally break free, "It's Rex"

Jesse looked at you confused and surprised for a moment, not really knowing how to process the information you gave him.

"What?" He asked.

"It's Rex, Jesse, I know it"

"No. That's impossible, it can't be him."

"You have to trust me." You begged

"How…" he was interrupted by another trooper that came running from the hall.

"Sir, we just received a report from the other sectors, there are no signs of the animal" informed the trooper.

Jesse's gaze traveled from the trooper to you.

"Go to an escape pod" he told you."And leave as soon as possible."

"But-"

"Go!" he ordered you before turning back to his brothers, ready to command. "Alright, that thing is somewhere in the ship, there are a lot of places where it could be hiding" he told them "our priority is find it and execute it before it kills someone else."

You paralyzed in your place. They were going to kill Rex, his own brother and they didn't even know it was him. The idea of losing him made you realize you had to find him before they did.

A thousand questions started running through your head, questions such as Where in the world could he be? Where he could be hiding? Where to start looking?

The answer was clear as kyber crystal.

The place where you and your beloved Captain found each day, a place without cameras, away from curious eyes, a place where you could share your love without worrying about being caught.

"He must be there." you thought and hurried to that place that saw your love bloom.

When you arrived you found him curled into a ball, leaning against the wall, protected by the shadows. He seemed conflicted, as if he was battling with himself and the wolf, fighting over control.

It was heartbreaking seeing him like this but it was a relief knowing he was fine.

"Rex?"

He looked at you, growling a bit and baring his teeth, a warning to stay away.

"It's okay" you said softly "I'm not gonna hurt you" you raised your hands to prove you were unarmed "See? It's me, (y/n)."

He seemed to recognize you, and slowly, Rex started to calm down a bit.

You took one, maybe two steps towards him. He backed off.

"It's fine, you can come out now" you encouraged him, extending a hand for him to take. Nothing.

The more you tried to touch him or get near him, the more he retreated.

"Love, please, I need to get you out of here before someone else find you"

Rex shook his head in response, getting further away from you. Was he afraid of you?

He had killed his own brothers, murdered them without hesitation. Even though he was unconscious most of the time, he knew what he was doing, he knew what this new form could do and how dangerous it was.

Rex wasn't afraid of you, oh no, he was afraid of himself, of the monster he became.

"It's okay, you are not going to hurt me" you told him as if you knew what was going on in his head. "I trust you"

The captain looked at you for a moment, and then he let you get closer to him.

Your hand carefully traveled all along his arm, feeling the soft texture of his fur, all the way to his large new face. Recognising and memorizing every detail of this new version of him, it felt familiar. His hazel eyes focused on you until they started to slowly close as he began to relax under your touch.

You kept gently stroking his head, the beating of your hearts softly echoing on the room. And for a moment the world outside seemed to fade away, the chaos of the Resolute, the clones screaming and running around, all of that disappeared. It was just you and him, human or wolf, you loved him.

You looked at him for a moment before pulling him into a tight hug. His fur trickling on your face made you smile but then you felt yourself melting under his warmth, closing your eyes and enjoying the moment.

"I love you, Rex" you mumbled against his chest, "I love you with all my soul and I want to be with you in this form or any other, it doesn't matter." you assured him, feeling the way his heart beated against yours. "I'll love you just the same, I promise"

The captain felt his heart full of love and hope. He was worried that you might have been scared of him, or that you might never want to see him because, who could love a monster like him? Now that he was one. Just the fact that you were there with him made him feel loved and for that he couldn't be more thankful, but he also couldn't help but wonder, what did he do to deserve someone as caring and loving as you.

The fears and insecurities left his body and were replaced with peace, love. And as those negative thoughts left he felt the beast leaving too. He felt his body slowly changing, not painfully as the other time but more natural. Human again.

"I love you, cyare"

His voice took you by surprise.

You were so immersed in your thoughts and his warmth that you didn't notice that he had changed, shifted back to his normal form.

"Rex." you breathed, looking at him, tears starting to form in your eyes as you placed a hand on his cheek.

"Hello, love." he said simply, earning a little giggle from you. He pulled you close and rested his forehead on yours, and finally you felt the tears rolling down your face.

He looked exhausted and sick, like he could faint in any second.

Your beloved Captain began to shiver with the absence of the fur that a few minutes ago covered his body, leaving him now naked and exposed to the coldness of the ship. You noticed the fresh little scratches and bruises that decorated his tanned skin. You couldn't even imagine what kind of hell he went through.

You stayed like this a few minutes, before he spoke again, blame and sorrow dancing on his tone.

"It was my fault" His voice cracked. "I knew what I was doing while I was that beast, I just couldn't stop. And now my brothers are gone." His gaze traveled to the floor and you saw a tear rolling down his cheek. "I could have hurt you too."

"(Y/n), how many brothers did I-"

"No, Rex, don't do that" you stopped him, "it wasn't your fault"

"Rex-" you murmured, placing a hand on the side of his face.

"I would never forget myself if anything happens to you because of me." He told you, his hazel eyes looking right into yours.

"Hey, it's okay" you assured him, "I know you would never hurt me, don't worry about that"

"But what if that thing comes back? What if I can't control it? What if I'm not able to snap out of it again?"

"Hey, hey, easy" you said "Look, I don't have the answers for that, I have no idea what caused this or how to get rid of it, I don't even know what to do." It was true, you had more questions than real answers yet you wanted to be there for him no matter what.

"We'll figure a way to control this, okay?" You murmured gently stroking his face, meaning every single word. "Whatever this is, we're going to face it, together."

#asterian #captain rex x reader #captain rex x you #captain rex x y/n #werewolf rex #wererex #werewolf au #werewolf rex x reader #gender neutral reader #star wars #star wars imagine #the clone wars #the clone wars imagine #captain rex #clone wars #ct 7567

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