#none of this is remotely close to canon but i feel it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

growup-thatbeautiful · 1 year

Text

bullet proof… i wish i was

Tags: Kid fic, Canon Typical Violence, Ex-husband Tangerine, Ex-Assassin Reader, Getting Back Together, Soft Tangerine, Mutual Pining, Tangerine Bullet Train, Tangerine x Reader, Tangerine x You

Warnings: Canon-Typical Violence, Minor Character Death, Blood, Violence, Heavy Cursing

Summary: You and Tangerine have been separated for a few years for the sake of your daughter, Jovie, but when trouble comes, there's only one person to turn to.

Word Count: 8k

A/n: if you want to be added to a taglist for this universe, let me know and i will happily oblige! enjoy my tangerine brainrot :))

Bullet Train Masterlist

chapter one: you have turned me into this

Your heels tap against the marble flooring as you make your way through the crowd of guilty people, the chandelier above you casting an ethereal glow over scared faces and expensive clothing. You keep your head down and hope that none of them are looking at your face too closely. The steel countertop of the bar is cool underneath the tips of your fingers when you order a drink and take a careful sip, your eyes flitting around the room for a certain face. Once you have him in your sights, it doesn't take much to convince him to come over and say hello. The way the silk of your dress contours perfectly around your figure can't hurt.

"Hi," you say, your voice floating through clouds and shaking the walls. Or is it just you who's shaking? The man doesn't answer and instead chooses to signal for the bartender, who nods and starts fixing a drink.

"The usual," the man croaks, his voice weak and failing. It makes you want to go home to the family waiting for you, into the arms of someone who loves you. There's a reason that you can't, but you don't remember it. You just know what you have to do now.

“So, angelface, are you going to tell me how you got here? I think I would remember inviting someone like you.” The man doesn’t recognize you, which is good. None of this would work if he knew who you are and what you’re here for.

“I have an invitation,” you lie, glancing around you and shifting your weight. If he’s paying as much attention to your form as he seems to be then he’s going to notice immediately how obvious you’re being.

“Strange, I didn’t take you for a liar.” He runs a greasy hand along the top of your arm and leans in closer to you, a sick smile on his face.

“I didn’t think you were smart enough to notice. Color me impressed, Sir.” You plant a hand on your hip and twirl a finger through your hair, grinning at him like you’re remotely interested in his sad eyes.

“Thanks. Look, hun. You’re way out of your zone here. This isn’t the path for a pretty girl like you.” He brings his hand up to your face, stroking a sweaty hand over your cheek. Like that’s ever calmed you down.

“Oh, sure it is.” you grab his wrist. “There are plenty of pretty girls getting up to no good. And those are only the ones that I know about and the ones you decide are good enough for a second fuck. But there’s a little more to the story this time. See, I’ve always loved my job, but it doesn’t really allow any room for what I need. I guess you could call it an occupational hazard, but I’ve been trying to change that if you would let me. I have a feeling that you’re going to listen to me.” You can feel the bones under his wrist. The way their ancient architecture creaks and groans under strain.

The beautiful snap of his wrist. Pain lit up in his eyes. Surprise written on his face. “Now. You’re never going to underestimate an angry woman or a protective mother again. I recommend you start listening to me closely and looking into my eyes instead of somewhere else.”

You wake up with a sob. Those memories have haunted you since the moment they happened, an error in judgment, an eclipse against the rest of your life. The things you did to protect the little girl sleeping soundly in the room next to you.

It’s half of a memory, not even getting to the worst part of that evening. Or the nights you spent afterward, cradling yourself against the cold spray of the shower and insistently scraping your skin against a washcloth to get the blood off.

It isn’t the violence that haunts you. God knows you’ve seen enough of that to last a lifetime. No, you don’t bat an eye at the blood that was shed that night, that’s never bothered you.

It’s what came afterward. The fighting, the leaving, the tears that you don’t usually shed. You had put your daughter, Jovie, in the backseat and taken her away from one of the two people who loved her to the end of the earth. It’s not like you had a choice, or at least that’s the easier way to think about it. For Jovie’s sake, you had to get out of that life, and you couldn’t have done that any other way.

But the way you hurt Tangerine back then still hurts you every time you think about it. It’s almost unbearable, to know that you’re the reason why he lives alone in a house that was meant to be filled with pictures of you and Jovie that now has impersonal empty white walls.

With a sigh, you throw the sweat-soaked sheets off to the side and walk into the bathroom that’s adjacent to your bedroom. Your hands shake when your turn the sink on you run your sweaty palms underneath the cool water, and you splash some onto your face. From experience, you know you probably won’t get back to sleep anytime soon tonight, so you might as well get some work done. Maybe with the extra time, you can pick up Jovie early from school one day and take her to the ice cream parlor she likes. There’s no better way to spend your time than with her anyway.

You slip some socks onto your feet and make your way across the hardwoods into your kitchen, where your laptop is waiting at the table. Instinctively, you go to the kettle sitting on the stove and start boiling some water, your mind on autopilot. Next, you grab a cup and some sugar, get some milk from the fridge, and try your hardest to calm your heartbeat. The whistling of the kettle is a soothing balm against your racing thoughts.

You don’t know how many times you’ve had the same dream, but usually, you make it further before you wake up. Maybe it’s finally starting to go away, but you doubt it. You’re honestly not sure that it’s something you’ll ever stop terrorizing yourself over.

The kettle’s whistling reaches an insistent point and you carefully pour the tea into the waiting cup. Once it’s cool enough to move, you settle into the kitchen table that’s closest to the window and open your laptop, where emails and research await.

Right when you’ve finally gotten into a good rhythm of your work, a noise from the hallway interrupts your thoughts. The hinges of your front door creak and strain, something you’ve been meaning to fix for a while, but right now you’re happy that you haven’t. Slowly, you reach for the gun that’s sitting behind the plant on the window and load it methodically, glancing over towards Jovie’s room and praying that she’s still asleep. The floorboards creak underneath the person’s feet and you steel yourself for what’s coming, whatever it is.

“Do you ever go anywhere besides your kitchen table, love? Should I be worried about your work addiction?” You see a familiar silhouette against the refrigerator light holding his hands up in the air.

Lowering the gun and putting it off to the side, you say, “Sure. Just let yourself right in. I’m sure Jovie would love to find you here in the middle of the night.”

“Jovie’s still awake?” Tangerine asks hopefully. You roll your eyes against his response, but there’s no actual malice in your actions. It’s endearing, how excited he gets to see her, even when you know he’s been on a mission for at least a week.

“No, she’s asleep, but you can go see her. If you wake her, you’re going to deal with it in the end, though, because she’s supposed to be going over to your house tomorrow anyway,” you warn. You don’t think it sends the right message, though, because he grins and raises his eyebrows at you.

“You still have to deal with her in the morning,” he grins, taking off down the hall. You know better than to try and stop him when he’s trying to go see Jovie, especially when he’s been gone.

He’s never told you, but you know that he misses her when he’s gone, but you imagine that it’s worse than how you miss her. When you’re gone, you know you’ll come back safely most of the time. Sure, what you’re doing for a living is technically illegal, but you’re not in immediate danger as frequently as he is.

So, when he comes over in the middle of the night asking to see Jovie, hardly able to stand with bloodshot eyes, you give him time with her for as long as he needs.

You remember how it used to be, when you were both working. It was hell, trying to balance everything; going on jobs and finding someone to watch Jovie, spending as much time as possible with her when you weren’t on a job, and trying to maintain some semblance of a relationship with Tangerine.

At some point, it all just collapsed in on itself. You had to get out of the job, and the only way to do that came with consequences that you’re still facing today.

You don’t think Tangerine can look at you without seeing the person that snuck away in the middle of the night with his daughter. And you can’t blame him one bit, even if he won’t say it to your face. You know if he did that to you, you wouldn’t be able to look him in the eye. Maybe he’s just a better liar than you or a better person. Sometimes, it’s hard to tell.

You can’t tell how long it’s been, sitting at your computer and waiting for Tangerine’s telltale footsteps, but eventually, he comes back and sits down next to you. Silently, without looking up from your laptop, you push your tea across the wooden surface towards him and he accepts it gratefully.

“You still make your tea like shit,” he complains, grimacing at the taste. “It’s like drinking fucking sugar water.”

“Then stop drinking it, Tan,” you sigh, but there’s a fondness that you can’t stop from creeping into your voice. “Just because you like being dark and broody doesn’t mean we all do. Some of us like being happy.”

“I can be perfectly fucking happy without your sugary excuse for caffeine,” Tangerine defends, leaning back into his chair. “Now do you want the information I got you, or not?”

You nod and pull up the folder you’ve been keeping information for your current job in. It’s scarily scarce, and this is one of the hardest assignments you’ve been given in a while. Gathering information on The White Death was hard enough when you could openly travel the world, and now with Jovie, it’s even harder.

Ever since you stopped going on actual jobs where you were part of the physical fight, you’ve been gathering information for the assassins like Tangerine and Lemon before jobs. It comes with perks, like the ability to work from home most of the time, but you can’t deny that you miss the excitement that you used to face almost daily.

For the next hour, Tangerine tells you everything he learned on the job and you carefully take notes. It’s a system you worked out as soon as you realized that the two of you would have to relearn how to coexist with each other for Jovie’s sake. In exchange, you give him everything you have on whatever his next job will entail, because, as scared as he is that he’s not going to come home one day, you’re terrified every time he leaves that he’s going to decide that it isn’t worth it. He’ll realize when he wakes up one morning that he could be anywhere in the world with anyone he wants, and you’re just not worth the effort.

Not that you would ever tell him that. Instead, you keep him through the flimsy excuse of work and information, hoping that, along with Jovie, it’s enough to keep him by your side.

Because you’re unexplainably selfish when it comes to him. Yes, you’re the one who left, but you can’t bear to think about him being happy with someone else.

So, for as long as he lets it continue, you’ll sit at the kitchen table for him in the middle of the night and listen to him talk, his accent lulling you to a sense of false domesticity that will shatter when he gets up to go home.

Tomorrow morning, Jovie will wake up and tell you all about how Tangerine visited her in the middle of the night, and he’ll be gone again, back to his own home where you thought you would raise Jovie with him.

But that’s something to worry about tomorrow. For now, you can sit here and take notes with an excuse to stare at Tangerine while he talks.

And what a sight he is, with his hair falling in front of his eyes, his blue-grey eyes shining in the lowlight of the moon shining through the window. His ringed fingers are drumming against the table as he talks, blood underneath his nails. Before he came in, he must have taken his suit jacket off, because he’s left in a blue pinstriped vest and a white undershirt, both speckled with blood. It outlines the broad expanse of his shoulders and the chain around his neck glints in and out of your sight.

“Do you want to spend the night?” you interrupt, shutting your laptop. Upon seeing the confused look on his face, you start rambling. “I know you probably want to get home- you’ve been gone a while- but it’s late and I’m sure Jovie would love to have you here in the morning. That way you don’t have to come get her later.”

“Well, you’re not wrong,” he agrees. “And I really don’t want to drive even more tonight, so I might take you up on the offer.”

“Okay,” you say, hiding a smile behind your hand. “You can shower in the guest room, I’ll get sheets on the bed.”

“Don’t go to the trouble, love. I’ll be happy with whatever.” You shake your head and get up, heading for the closet where you keep extra bedding. When you hand a pair of clean, white sheets with red polka dots, he takes them from you with a quiet, “Thanks.”

You lead him to the guest room, flipping light switches on and making sure the bathroom is adequately stocked. “I’ll be right back,” you say, heading to your room and rifling through one of your drawers until you come up with a maroon t-shirt that’s been in the back of your drawer for ages. It’s worn and faded, with holes in the collar and a white stain on the hem. You don’t know if Tangerine has even noticed that you’ve had it all this time, but you haven’t been able to convince yourself to give it back.

Back in the guest room, you hand him the t-shirt and he silently hands you his suit vest and collared shirt, which you take into the laundry room and spray with something to get the stains out. It’s a routine that you two perfected a long time ago, before things were so messed up, so it’s nice to see how some things still stay the same. The sound of the shower starting lets you know that he’ll be out in a few minutes, and a familiar sense of dread fills you. What happens now? Do you tell him goodnight and wait to deal with it in the morning or are you supposed to sit up with him and exchange polite conversation that will only hurt you in the end.

It ends up being neither. You’re sitting back at the kitchen table, pretending to look at your computer, when he shuffles down the hall, wearing boxers and the t-shirt.

“Is this mine?” he asks, gesturing at his shirt. “I’ve been fucking looking for this.” You know he hasn’t because he never liked this shirt, but your ears burn red at the accusation, however well meaning.

“It might be,” you deflect. “Do you need any food?” Tangerine moves to sit across from you at the table. His hair away from his face when he leans back and closes his eyes. He doesn’t look convinced at your defense, but he lets it slide with raised eyebrows.

“No, I stole some crisps on the way home.” You’re not surprised.

“You have a talent, Tan,” you tease lightly, shutting your computer. “You need to teach Jovie one of these days.”

“She can do better than petty thieving, have higher hopes for our girl.” Our girl rings through your mind. You doubt he even knows the impact of what he says, like he usually doesn’t.

You don’t really know what to say, so, “I’m sure she’s got your knack for finding something worthwhile to do,” is what you end up replying.

“A man can dream,” Tangerine sighs. You realize how late it is and how tired he must be, which you can see by the darkness underneath his eyes.

“As much as I would love sitting up with you, I think it might be a proper time to go to bed,” you admit softly. He looks at you with a strange look in his eye and nods slowly, matching your actions when you stand up.

“Goodnight, Tangerine.” You’re standing across from him, unable to cross the distance between the two of you, both physical and mental. It would be so easy, so instinctive, to fold yourself into his arms like you used to all those years ago. It’s alarming how deep the desire to do it runs through you, and you chalk it up to the nightmare that you and earlier.

“Goodnight, love. I’ll see you in the morning.” Those words, from him, are achingly distant to what they used to mean, but they fill the crack in your heart with a blooming flower of some unnamed emotion.

It stays with you when you crawl into bed and it has you looking forward to the morning, whatever it brings.

The sound of singing wakes you up much more gently than the nightmare did. It’s loud and boisterous and completely off-key, and you recognize it immediately, just like you would recognize anything about him.

You force yourself out of the warmth of your bed and throw on the first clothes that you find, a pair of black leggings and a deep green sweater with countless holes. A look in the mirror tells you that the bags under your eyes reflect the late hours of last night, but you don’t feel like doing anything about it right now. It can’t be worse than the other states of disarray Tangerine has seen you in before.

The bedroom door closes shut quietly behind you as you walk down the hall, and the sight that you’re met with is both concerning and heartwarming.

Standing at the stove in his now spotless suit from last night is Tangerine, his hair in its usual slick back style. Your kitchen is a mess, with flour all over the cabinets and countertops and a towel is thrown over his shoulder. He’s bent over the stove, watching a pan intently as smoke rises to the ceiling.

Jovie is sitting at the kitchen table watching, her brown curls a messy hall around her head. It’s the same as her father’s, something that he takes great pride in. She has your eyes, but hers are full of hope.

You make your way over to where Tangerine is standing and lean against the counter across from him, watching with amusement as he fiddles with your burner. “Bastard,” he mutters under his breath, trying again to light the stove. “Fucking bastard.”

“Let me help you,” you laugh, sidling up next to him and pushing the knob in before turning it. “It gets stuck sometimes, you just have to force it a tad.”

“S’that right? Well, someone’s going to have to fix that. I wouldn’t want the world deprived of your cooking,” he deadpans, a glint in his eye.

“Fuck off,” you say under your breath, glancing at Jovie to see her utterly occupied with the spoon and bowl. “I haven’t poisoned anyone yet with my cooking.”

“That was on purpose,” he defends easily. “And I don’t think they’re quite the brag you think it is, love. Jovie-“

“-come on, don’t bring the poor girl into this-“

“-how do you think your mom’s cooking is?” His grin is wide and dagger-sharp as he looks at Jovie, who’s staring wide-eyed and helpless at the wills of Tangerine’s smile.

“Mommy makes dinner all the time,” she says, looking at you.

“Thank you, baby,” you sing, smiling at her and sticking your tongue out at Tangerine. He frowns at your childish display and turns his attention to Jovie with soft eyes.

“I beg your pardon, Jovie, but why don’t you tell Mommy the truth?”

You sigh, having accepted your dare a long time ago as someone who’s talents lau outside of the kitchen. “Go ahead.”

“Sometimes your food tastes yucky,” Jovie says slowly, her head tilted to the side as she waits for your reaction.

“Well, I’m trying my best,” you defend, but you don’t take any of it personally. You’re happy, at least, that Jovie’s being honest with you, which is more than a lot of parents can say. This day was bound to come.

“I’m sure you are,” grins Tangerine, giving Jovie a cheesy thumbs up before returning to his cooking. “That’s why I’m going to handle breakfast this morning.”

And he does, without complaint, grinning and cracking jokes the whole time. It feels like he belongs here, sandwiched in your tiny kitchen with Jovie sitting at the table and laughing.

He brings two plates full of various breakfast items and a bowl for Jovie with grilled tomatoes, her favorite. You eat in comfortable silence, filled occasionally by Jovie’s chatter.

“Can I have that?” Tangerine asks, looking hopefully at you. He’s pointing towards your tomato, which you really had planned on eating, but you give in to his pleading eyes.

“So now you’re a gentleman?” you tease, shoveling your food onto his plate.

“Love, I’m always a gentleman.” He takes your food happily and shares with Jovie, talking with her about school and her friends while bringing you into the conversation.

It’s so easy to forget, in moments like these, why you ever left, but things can come crashing down when Tangerine has to leave.

“We should be off,” he admits softly. “I wouldn’t want to take up more of your time.”

“Okay,” you agree, but your smile feels wrong and tight. You want so badly to tell him that you’d rather be here than anywhere else as long as he’s here. “Jovie, baby, are you ready to go to Daddy’s house?”

“I need Murphy to come with me,” Jovie says, and you smile at her before going to her room to grab her favorite stuffed bear. It’s something that Tangerine got her on one of his trips, this time to New York. The stuffed bear is wearing a red guard’s uniform and a top hat, affectionately missing one shoe with faded colors. It’s laying on her bed, shoved beneath her pillows and blankets, and you double check the rest of her room to make sure that there’s nothing else she’ll need.

“Here’s Murphy.” You hand her the bear and Jovie accepts it happily with a hug and a pat on the head. She gives you a hug and a messy kiss on the cheek before going over to stand with Tangerine.

“Jovie-love,” Tangerine says, calling your daughter by his favorite endearment, “Say another goodbye to your mom, you’ll see her again in a few days.” Jovie nods obediently and looks at you again.

“Bye-bye, Mommy.”

“Bye, Jovie. I’ll see you soon, Tan.” Tangerine nods his goodbye to you before taking Jovie’s hand in his own and leading her down the hall and out the front door. You see them out the window as Tangerine buckles Jovie’s seatbelt and taps her on the nose with a soft smile.

You watch his car drive away until you can’t see it anymore.

Days without Jovie go by uneventfully, with not much distinction between the hours, and the next few are no exception.

But now, you have more than Jovie to look forward to. You have Tangerine too, however short your interaction may be. Because he’s always been a bright spot for you, even when you don’t get to bask in his sunlight every day. You’ll take whatever you can get, however small, because anything is more than you deserve.

Especially because you’re the one who ruined all of it in the first place.

After a long day of interviews and field work, you just want to go home. Jovie’s with her babysitter Mary because Tangerine had to take care of something with Lemon, which is an unfortunately common occurrence.

The drive home is painful and irritating, and it seems like everything is trying to push you over the edge. You have to keep reminding yourself that Jovie is waiting for you at home; sweet, loving Jovie whose face lights up when she sees you walk into a room. She’s back at your flat now, from when Tangerine dropped her off earlier today, which is good, because you don’t know what you would do if she wasn’t there. Unfortunately, you hadn’t been able to have much of a conversation with him because everything had been rushed.

Finally, finally you make it to your flat, where you can’t seem to find a parking spot quick enough to satisfy your desire to be finished with today.

When you walk through the door, you’re met with a silence that puts you on edge. There’s no blaring kids television program or the sound of Jovie playing with her toys, or even the soft lull of Mary reading her to sleep.

“Jovie? Baby?” You walk faster through the apartment, paranoia taking over. When you turn the corner, a gasp lodges itself in your throat and your hand comes up to cover your mouth.

It’s a cinematic scene. Your big-eyed Jovie, standing, covered in blood. The homey glow of the broken lamps cast shadows across the mangled corpse in front of her. Jovie isn’t moving, simply standing there, red spreading across her truck pajama pants.

“Jovie, honey, come here.”

“You always say not to get my pajamas messy.”

“I know, love, but this is more important right now. It’s okay, I understand.” You hold out your arms, knees on the ground, soaking in the pool of blood. “Please, baby, just walk towards me and everything will be okay.” She dutifully takes a step, walking straight into the mass of blood.

“Shit, Jovie, stay there, I’m coming to get you.” The blood is warm against your feet as you pass through it. She looks at you with her big eyes and you feel the tears threatening to overflow. You don’t have time for this now; you can always cry about it later in the shower.

“You said a bad word. Daddy says bad words sometimes when he thinks I’m not there.” Despite wariness, Jovie climbs into the waiting arms, holding on. She leaves ripples in the growing mass of blood when she walks.

“Yeah, that sounds just like him. How about we go into the kitchen-“

“For juice pops?” interrupts Jovie, oblivious to the violence around her. You wish that you feel surprised at the continued glimpses of the fight. A broken plate on the floor, a red smear on the white cabinets, and a drawer pulled out of the island.

“For juice pops,” you confirm, opening the freezer for an, ironically, red popsicle. “What color do you want?”

“Blue,” she says decidedly. You grab one of the first ones you see and unwrap it with your teeth, handing it to her. She takes it happily and you push her up higher onto your hip.

“How about we call daddy? I think he can help us.” The thing is, you know how to deal with this on your own. You’ve talked about it with Tan more times than you can count, but this is so much harder than planning for it. “Can you go grab your backpack from the closet? Mommy’s going to go get her own bag and we’ll call him from the car.”

She mumbles okay as you put her down and she heads dutifully down the hall to her room. You would rather be close to her, but time is essential at the moment. The only thing running through your mind is getting Jovie somewhere safe, no matter how you do it.

You rush down the hall and grab the gray duffel bag from the corner of your closet. Quickly, you go through the contents and make sure that you have everything you might need. Yours and Jovie’s passports, some first aid materials, a few extra weapons, and a change of clothes are the main items that you have to make sure are in the bag.

Once you’ve double-checked everything, you throw the duffel onto the bed and grab the extra bullets that you keep in your top drawer, shoving them into your back pocket along with the small gun that you keep in the bathroom.

“Jovie, honey, are you ready to go?” you call, waiting for a reply. She yells a muffled response back at you, which you take as an okay. You don’t really have enough time to contemplate it anyway.

As fast as you can, you scoop up Jovie’s bag from her arms and grab one of her hands in yours. She’s clutching Murphy close to her chest, the bear squished tightly against her. The hallway seems to be clear when you check it for any threats, and, thankfully, Jovie stays silent until she’s safely buckled into her seat. Part of you hopes that she can tell how serious the situation is, how dire it is that you make it to somewhere safer.

The slam of the car door rings in your ears as you pull out of the carpark, as does the heavy sound of your heartbeat in your ears.

“Mommy? Is Mary dead?” asks Jovie, staring at you from the backseat with eyes just like yours. You grip the steering wheel tighter between your fingers and let out a slow exhale.

“Yeah, baby. Mary’s dead.” You don’t know what else to say, so you let silence fill the car. After you’re far enough away, you pull the car to the side of the road and turn the lights off. To anyone passing by, they won’t see you unless they’re looking.

“What are we doing here?” Jovie’s voice is high-pitched and scared, and you brace yourself for the feeling of tears pricking your eyes. When Jovie cries, usually you’re able to be the calm one, but you don’t know if you can be that person right now.

“We’re just resting for a minute.” The words are hard to get out and you lean forward against the steering wheel, taking a breath with your head in your hands.

“Because it’s dark out?” Any other time, you would happily answer all of Jovie’s questions and more, but you need to think right now. But you also don’t think that it’s a good idea to shift Jovie’s mind to anything that could lead to her thinking more about what happened.

“Jovie, honey, do you think you can let me call Daddy? We need to make sure that it’s okay for us to go over to his house.” Jovie nods and looks out the window quietly, tracing the passing houses with her finger.

You pull up your phone and select Tangerine’s name from the top of your contacts, but you don’t connect it to the car speaker. Jovie’s been through enough. While you wait, you pull back onto the road and start heading in the direction of Tangerine’s house.

It feels like the dial tone rings forever while you wait for him to answer. It goes to voicemail and you bang your hand against the steering wheel, biting back a curse and some tears. The beep for a voicemail sounds and you start talking before you can consider anything else. “Tan, we’re heading to your flat now. There’s-there’s a problem. I have Jovie with me now, just- please be home. Please fucking be home, I don’t know what to do. I’m scared, Tangerine, and I don’t know how Jovie’s going to cope with this. I came home and there was blood on the floor, and Mary was on the floor. I don’t think we can go back there for a while, maybe ever. I have some things with me, and I have my gun, but I- I don’t think it’s safe still. Just, please answer me whenever you get this. Please, Tan.” You end the call and throw your phone to the side, running a hand through your hair.

When you look back at Jovie through the rear view mirror, she’s fast asleep, her head tucked against the top of her car seat. Your heart melts at the state of her. The curls on her head are rowdy and unruly, and you realize now that she’s still in her pajamas. The blue truck patterned pants are stained at the ankles with deep blood, and you have to fight not to pull over again and clean her up.

From its spot in the passenger seat, your phone rings loudly, and you reach across for it with one hand on the steering wheel. “Hello?”

“Love, are you almost here? I fucking swear, I’m about to drive to you myself. How is Jovie doing?” The tension and the anger in his voice somehow make yours melt away a little. It feels like you can breathe, knowing that he’s there waiting for you.

“I’m five minutes away. And Jovie’s asleep right now.”

“Fuck,” he swears. “Mary’s dead?”

“Yeah. I don’t know what we’re going to do about that. She doesn’t have any family, and as far as I know Jovie was the only one she sat for, so that’s ideal I guess.” It’s easier like this, to remember how you’re supposed to respond in situations like this. He’s always made things so much easier for you; your focus pinpoints on Jovie’s safety with the help from his voice.

“I’ll get someone to go over there and clean up. I’ll have things ready for you and Jovie when you get here.”

“Okay,” you agree quietly. “We’re pulling into your neighborhood now.” Like clockwork, Jovie's head snaps up when you pull into Tangerine’s driveway. You’ve never made it to his house without her waking up at the very last moment. It’s endearing on good days and frustrating on the rest, but now you’re just happy that she’s still with her normal routine.

The car rolls to a stop in front of the house and you park the car before stepping out and unbuckling Jovie. Both of the bags are carried in your arms, along with Jovie’s little hand in your own. You stop on the edge of the driveway, looking at Tangerine. You honestly don’t know what to do now that you’re standing in front of him, yearning for the safety of his arms but not knowing if you’re allowed.

“Come here,” Tangerine says. You don’t move. There’s an edge to his voice that you haven’t heard before. Something consequential. Something desperate. “Please.” He says it so quietly and with such little conviction. Like he knows you’ll say no.

Jovie goes first. And you have no choice but to follow her little footsteps until your in his arms. Once you’re there, you can’t remember why you ever wanted to be anywhere else. Slowly, like he’s going to let go at any moment, you wrap your arm around him and clutch the back of his suit in your hand, pulling yourself into him.

He’s so warm and solid against you, his suit jacket soft and welcome against your cheek. It makes you think of how things used to be, when you could come home together to this very house and let yourself bask in his presence.

Those days are gone, but the ghost of them remains in this depraved picture of a family hug: Josie’s blood splattered feet, your shaking hands and blood-dyed shirt, Tangerine’s immaculate suit and slick back hair.

Eventually, you have to let go and walk inside, dropping your bags off at the front door and crowding Jovie into the living room. Tangerine tells you that you should go wash up, and dimly, you agree, walking absentmindedly to the bathroom and stripping down.

It’s not until the warm spray of the water is hitting you that you realize you’re in his bathroom, the one that you used to share when Jovie was a baby.

Instinct had taken over and sent you right back to the past, when you were Tangerine's wife and Jovie’s mother at the same time. Strange, how different things are now.

Now, you’re washing blood off, which isn’t necessarily new, but you’re alone and thinking about the similar blood that covers your beautiful Jovie.

You’re wearing his shirt when you walk out. It used to be your favorite one, worn thin and soft from use, light blue fabric falling to your thighs. You always forget just how tall he is until you’re forced, in moments like this, to remember.

“Jovie’s asleep. I didn’t put her in her room because of the windows, so she’s in the room next door on the couch. Lemon’s on his way over,” Tangerine explains softly, coming over to hand you a towel for your hair, an old habit that neither of you even acknowledges.

“Thanks,” you reply just as quietly like somehow you’ll wake Jovie up from here. “Is she okay? Did you wash her feet off?” It almost seems trivial, to be asking if your daughter didn't go to sleep with blood-covered feet, but it matters to you.

“Yeah, love, I did. Are- are you okay?”

You let out a laugh that sounds too much like a sob and sit on the corner of the bed. “I came home to find our daughter surrounded by blood, which we have a plan for, a plan that I didn’t follow.”

“You made a judgment call. There’s nothing wrong with that, we have to do it all the time,” he comforts. Before you can reply with more negativity, he comes over and puts his hands on your shoulders, cupping your neck. Carefully, he tilts your head up to look him in the eyes. He’s towering over your sitting figure, but it’s far from intimidating. For a moment, you let yourself get lost in his presence, in his comfort.

He’s always been a source of comfort for you, even when you’re not with him. He’s a safety net to fall into during times like these, and you’re falling hard.

“I think it’s my fault,” you whisper, shutting your eyes. “I should have been there sooner. She’s going to have nightmares now. Tan, what if I’ve fucked her up? This is why I stopped, and now it doesn’t matter, she’s going to have these memories of blood and pain and I wasn’t there to stop it.”

He waits patiently for you to finish before shaking his head against your thoughts. “We knew something like this could happen. It’s as much my fault as it is yours, if it’s your fault at all, You’ve tried your best to protect her from this as long as she’s been alive.”

“I could have done more.”

“So could I, but we didn’t. However,” he continues, “Jovie’s okay. She’s safe now. You know that, right? M’not going to let anything happen to the two of you.”

“Thanks, Tan,” you whisper. There are so many more things you want to say, so much more negativity flying through your head, but it’s easier to let him take a little bit of the burden, like you know he wants to.

“Of course, love. We’ll figure this out together.” Slowly, he kneels down on the floor in front of you so you’re at the same height, bringing your heads together. You close your eyes and get lost in the feel of his hands against you, his breath against your own, his presence all around you. A part of you in the back of your mind reminds you that this could be your normal.

You pull apart and Tangerine wipes the tear from your eye with his thumb, so gentle. “Who did this to you?” There’s an edge to Tangerine’s voice that you’ve never wanted to hear aimed at you. But you don’t think it’s you that he’s mad at.

“It could have been a lot of people,” you start.

“You fucking know who it was. Tell me.” He’s losing patience now, wanting to help in the way he knows how. There’s no way for him to know the way that he’s already helping by being with you. His presence is a comfort, a safety that you can’t get if he’s out there looking for someone.

“Probably White Death’s guys,” you admit, thinking back. You’ve been careful, but there are always people who will talk. “They’ll do whatever to keep their names out of people’s mouths.”

“Fucking hell,” he swears, his hands on his hips. The dying light from the hallway casts shadows against his silhouette, the shiny silver signet ring on his pinky and the warm metal against his chest glinting along the hardwoods. “Why would they leave Jovie alive?” It’s a stupid question, one that both of you already know the answer to anyway, but you know why he’s asking. Sometimes it’s easier for other people to say the hard things. It’s not like you’re upset about Jovie being alive, you’re so utterly grateful, but it can’t be for no reason.

“Because they know who Jovie is. They want to scare us because there planning for something worse, something we aren’t expecting.”

“Mommy? Daddy? I’m scared,” Jovie calls from the other room. “There are monsters underneath the bed.” It’s something she’s been scared of for as long as you can remember, but you can’t help the spike of fear that courses through you. You’re not alone though, because Tangerine looks at you with the same panic in his eyes.

“We’re coming, love,” he replies, and you follow him through the door. Jovie’s sitting up in the bed, surrounded by blankets that build up around her and holding her stuffed bear close to her chest.

“Do you know which monster it is this time?” you ask softly, crawling next to her. Dutifully, Tangerine checks under the bed carefully and gives an exaggerated thumbs up that makes Jovie’s giggle beside you.

“It’s Lenny,” she whispers into your ear, and you nod solemnly at her.

“That’s a serious monster problem. Do you think Daddy’s going to have to move out of his house?” For as long as she’s been scared of the monsters under her bed, you and Tangerine have tried to twist it into something better. That’s when you started asking her what the monsters’ names are and what she thinks they're doing under her bed. Usually, you’re able to get her to a point of calm and, on the rare occasion, to a point where she’s no longer afraid of a certain monster. So far, you and Tangerine have been able to convince her that the monsters Polly and Patrick are protecting her, but Lenny has been a challenge since the beginning.

“I will not be moving, ladies. I don’t think Lenny’s here tonight, Jovie-love. And if he is, tell him to piss off because I’m too tired to fight a monster.” For emphasis, he plops face first down on the bed and starts snoring loudly.

“Tan, language,” you chastise lightly, sending a half-hearted glare in his direction. It’s a fruitless task, which you learned a long time ago, but you won’t stop trying, more for your own sanity than for Jovie’s sake.

“Yeah, Daddy, language,” Jovie mimics, crossing her arms over her chest. You laugh and nudge Tangerine, who looks less than thrilled.

“Right, you two are a pair,” he groans into his hands, peeking through to wiggle his eyes at Jovie. “But I think it’s time for my ladies to go to sleep.”

“Thank you for saving me,” Jovie adds sweetly, snuggling further underneath the blanket. Your heart melts at the way she holds her teddy close to her chest. “Will you always come for me?”

“Jovie, baby, there could be dragons and mountains and oceans between us and we would still find a way to you, okay? Daddy and I will never stop looking for you if you’re away from us. Never. Do you understand?” You run a hand over her hair and tuck a stray strand behind her ear.

At that, Jovie opens her eyes and looks at you, blinking slowly.“But you and Daddy don’t love each other.”

“Oh, baby,” you sigh. You can’t look at Tangerine next to you, you can’t bear to see the look on his face. “I’ll always love your dad. I love that he’s the person I get to raise you with. I love that he’s there when I need him. We just…weren't able to love each other together. It’s like that sometimes.” You wish it weren’t, but that’s not a fight that you want to have again.

“Jovie-love, your mom and I have loved each other since before you were born, but it’s easier for us to love each other from separate places,” Tangerine adds, smoothing the side of Jovie’s face. His words ring a painful truth that you’ve known for years.

“But we’ll always come together to be with you, baby. You don’t have to worry about that.”

“Promise?” she asks, holding up her pinky. You smile and take it in your own, and Tangerime dutifully does the same.

“Promise,” you echo, holding onto her hand. She nods her acceptance and you let go, as does Tangerine. “Now, it’s time for bed. We’ll be here in the morning, so you just come and wake us up, okay?”

“Okay, Mommy. You’re both going to be here?”

“Yeah, love. We’re having a little sleepover for tonight until your mom’s house is better. Does that sound fun?” Tangerine asks, tucking Jovie further into the blankets and glancing over at you.

“Yes,” Jovie agrees sleepily, snuggling further into her blankets. “Sounds fun.”

“Good,” you smile. “Goodnight, Jovie.” With that, you slowly make your way out of the room, Tangerine on your heels.

Once you’re out of the room and back into his bedroom, you sit down on his bed and he sits next to you, shoulders against each other. “You can sleep in here, I’ll sleep in the living room,” he offers.

You shake your head and respond, “No, I couldn’t do that. It’s your house, Tan.” And you don’t want to slip in the bed you used to share without him,

“It’s alright, love, really. I don’t use that couch enough.”

“I’m not going to make you sleep on the couch in your own house,” you argue back. “It’s rude.”

“Look, you’ve been through a lot today. I’m not going to make it worse by giving you a sore neck and back tomorrow. I know you well enough to know that it would happen, so don’t pull any shot with me,” he warns, and you don’t have a lot of defense against that.

“Fine, I’ll sleep in here, but I’m absolutely not going to have you sleep on the couch. We’re both adults here, we can share a fucking bed for one night.”

“Okay,” he agrees. “If that’s what it takes.”

There’s space in between you when you lay down, but he’s closer than he’s been in a long time.

#tangerine fanfiction #tangerine fanfic #tangerine fic #tangerine x y/n #tangerine bullet train #tangerine x you #tangerine x reader #bullet train fanfiction #bullet train #bullet train fic #bullet train fanfic #tangerine #aaron taylor johnson fanfiction #aaron taylor johnson fic #aaron taylor johnson x you #aaron taylor johnson x reader #aaron taylor johnson #bullet proof universe

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comradekatara · 4 months

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hi! apologies if you’ve answered this before, but what do you think of the theory that sokka was killed protecting korra from the red lotus??? i’ve always had mixed feelings about it - on the one hand, sokka Would. on the other, a) the in-text treatment of the red lotus was always questionable and b) the idea that sokka, the most self-sacrificing character, ending up dying for someone else is just so sad to me. what do you think? you consistently have the best ATLA takes on this app!

yeah. I think that theory comes from people valorizing sokka’s protectiveness without understanding why that trait is in fact harmful to him. like, dying a martyr to protect someone important against evil forces that wish to harm them and/or the world has always been sokka’s top #1 fantasy. I don’t really think that’s the kind of thing we need to be encouraging. if anything I think the nicest death sokka could ever possibly get is to die peacefully in his sleep as an old man, because by contradicting his internalized notion that his body is a vessel to used rather than the subject of his own experience, this signifies that he has innate meaning as an individual even when he is not serving another, which is a crucial facet of his arc. that said I also love sokka’s misery and suffering, so I think the idea that sokka does ultimately die a martyr kind of rules in a gruesome, morbid, sick & twisted way.

and then there’s the other element to unpack here, which is the red lotus. it's no secret that the red lotus is one of my favorite elements (no pun intended) of lok, and i spend way more time thinking about them than i do most aspects of that show (not including korrasami. i have clocked so many hours at the obsessing over korrasami factory you don't even know). so in the xai bau spy novel that (mostly) lives in my head, the notion that sokka one day dies at the hands of the organization that was formed through xai bau's ideology is very thematically satisfying to me. but also you really have to share my very specific brand of brainrot regarding who xai bau was, what his relationship to sokka is, the poetic injustice of that particular resolution, etc etc. and obviously none of that is remotely canon, so like. that's clearly not what you're asking here.

on one hand, the red lotus could've killed sokka in their mission to eradicate all world leaders (they do call sokka the chief in that one scene, which i resent, but according to the text, that does make him a world leader. ew), but also sokka could've easily just died in a bunch of other situations, it's really left ambiguous in the show. i don't think that the characters who would have been close to sokka who also fight the red lotus (zuko, katara's kids, lin beifong, etc etc.) seem vengeful enough for them to have been the cause of his death, though, but it's also been a while since i've seen the show, so maybe i'm wrong about that. it is beautifully tragic though. if you're some kind of fucked up sicko (which i'm NOT!!!!!!!!)

#unreachedgalaxy #asks #sokka #red lotus #i like thinking abt sokka dying tragically young tbh #(bc there's NOTHING wrong with me)#but also i like thinking abt him dying peacefully of old age and going to the spirit world and living with yue on the moon (in? the moon?)#rly depends on my mood #xai bau eventually succeeding in killing sokka is so sick & twisted tho. i kind of love that..

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nexysworld · 1 year

Text

Guardian Angel 🖤 Part 4.3 🖤

Read on AO3 - Requests are Open - Masterlist

Read Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | 4.1| 4.2

A/N: Thanks for the support and patience for this chapter. Tumblr wouldn't actually let me post it in one or even 2 parts no matter how I tried to split it, so it's split into three parts (though you can read it as one chapter on AO3.)

Chapter Summary: In a an attempt to get reader to open up to him, he starts giving in to a change of scenery and other requests for her. Leon even allows her a special friend before he leaves on a work mission, leaving the reader home alone for the first time.

🖤Pairing: Yandere!Leon/Fem!Reader

🖤Tags (not all apply to all chapters): NSFW, Masturbation, Dubcon, Sex, Gaslighting, canon typical horror and gore descriptions, probably eventual kidnapping or kidnapping like behavior, use of pet names like bunny. Leon induces some PTSD like flashbacks on purpose, general things of that nature. Unwanted creampie, etc. Probably treat as dead dove. Inappropriate use of animal collar. Threats of animal abuse (though none occurs and it's not descriptive.)

The first day was easy for you. Being alone definitely felt strange, being alone with essentially free roam of the house was even more strange, but with Lucipurr running around with you, it didn’t feel as lonely as you thought, the little cat brought such an indescribable joy to you.

You listened to music while you paced back and forth, watched TV, more pacing. At one point it even started to rain, so you took a seat by a window and read for a while. It was peaceful. Actually peaceful, you didn’t let your mind wander beyond the moment. So many bad things had happened, you just wanted to focus on the good for now while you could, and having Lucip around to take care of instantly brightened any even remotely soured mood you had. Besides, he needed you, you couldn’t lose it while he depended on you. The second day had been a bit harder. You hadn’t particularly liked waking up without the smell of food or Leon’s kisses. And if you thought about that further you felt conflicted about even feeling that way, especially with everything – no – you immediately stopped that thought. N o bad thoughts. No bad thoughts . Luckily for you the cat had got your attention, meowing at you incessantly to remind you that it was breakfast time.

The evening had been even harder. The scratching of the tree branches outside, the pitter-pattering of the rain on the roof, just the general creakiness of the old house had you on edge. While you trusted that no living thing would enter without Leon’s permission, that didn’t exclude the supernatural. You felt silly for even entertaining that idea, but it was hard not to when you were entirely alone. You swore the red eyed man was back, not fully, but there was always something flashing in your peripheral vision freaking you out. It helped even less when the attic door had creaked open.

It’s not that you hadn’t been curious, but, you felt you knew enough about Leon to know that he would know if you went up there. How would he know? You didn’t know. What you did know was that he would know. You didn’t want to know what the consequences of that would be. So, you closed the door and went back to bed, making sure the light was left on and Lucip was with you.

Day three was the worst overall. Leon should be home that evening if his timeline was right, but you were bored by now, especially having no one to talk to, and were obscenely sick of cereal, sandwiches, and cold meatloaf. Movies couldn’t hold your attention, nor could reading. You opted to instead play some music out loud as you danced around the large house, sometimes picking up Lucip and swinging him around gently, before hugging him close to you.

The music cheered you up a little, but that was short lived when your heart nearly came out of your mouth from the size of the spider you saw on the wall. “Lucip no!” You shouted when the cat had darted after it, chasing it up the stairs. You were frozen, especially when you heard a door upstairs creaking open. You’d prayed and prayed that it was the bedroom door, but it was never that squeaky, and besides it was already open. Through wobbly legs you made your way upstairs, a shoe in hand in case you needed to help Lucip fend off any more undesirables. Much to your dismay, the attic door was open and Lucip was nowhere to be found - no doubt having followed the 8 legged thing up there. You attempted to get the cat to come down through any means that didn’t involve going inside. “Here kitty kitty. Pspspsps” You tried at the doorway. No luck . Shaking the food bowl. Nothing . Treats? No . What were you supposed to do now? Could you just wait until Leon got home? But how mad would Leon even be if he knew the cat had gone up there, would he take him from you? No! The very thought of losing what felt like your only friend, losing something that relied on you, you couldn’t let that happen. You couldn’t fail him like that. You just couldn’t, he was the ony ray of hope. A resounding crashing sound came from the room. Shit . If something important was up there…maybe you could pose it to Leon that you just wanted to keep the stuff safe from the cat? You’d been so behaved lately maybe you could beg for forgiveness and he’d be lenient with you?

Another crash came while you were pondering what to do. Shit . Shit . Maybe Leon was right, he’d given you too much freedom and now you were getting way ahead of yourself, but you could only think of the small feline you needed to protect.

~♡🖤♡🖤♡🖤♡🖤♡🖤♡🖤♡🖤♡~Leon was at a red light that was taking an eternity to turn green, he’d have blown through it but he knew it was a camera-light. He was so anxious to get home, get back to you. Watching you dance around the house and play with the cat had him in a really good mood. He had full plans to wrap you in his arms, make a nice hot dinner – probably lecture you about those over-sized bites – and reward you for being so good while he was gone.

With the light still yet to change, he opted to pull his phone out and check on you one more time. When he watched you calling the cat from the attic his blood ran cold – the second your form disappeared behind the door, his foot hit the gas maxing out his speedometer to get home as quickly as he could.

Despite him driving like a maniac, he felt like he wasn’t going fast enough, time had slowed down for him. Even when he brought the Jeep to a skidded stop outside, his legs felt heavy as he fumbled the key to get inside and up the stairs, boots thumping loudly with each step.

The door was still ajar, and you weren’t in any of the visibly open rooms. “Hey Bunny, I’m back.” He did his best to mask anything that might scare you. “I’m coming into the attic, it’s okay. I’m not mad.”

As he came up the stairs, he dodge a heavy book that was thrown at his head. He sighed, this is exactly what he expected would happen. And there you were surrounded by computer monitors, some were playing back tapes from the security footage he’d take at your old apartment.

In your hand you were gripping a manila folder with giant red print on it “SHULTZ CLASSIFIED.” In your other hand he watched in horror as you held a sharp piece of broken glass, your hand was shaking while it bled.

“I’m not fucking crazy! You made me think I was crazy, but I’m not crazy! Derek was real. He was my boyfriend, and he was real . You’ve been stalking me for over a year, you sick freak!”

“C’mon baby, lets talk ok? There’s no reason to be so upset.” Leon put one hand out like he was walking towards a cornered animal. He was assessing things as he went, trying to determine the best course of action. He might be able to use the collar, but he was concerned you’d hurt yourself more falling into the broken glass on the floor. His best bet was to get over there and disarm you, but he had to tread carefully, not wanting to push you over the edge before he could.

“Take me home.”

“Bunny, you are home.”

“Please, Leon, please take me back home to my real home. I miss my friends and family, I’m sure they miss me too. I know I’m not crazy now, so…”

“Bunny –” He took a slow step closer.

“If you don’t I’ll kill myself. I will, right now.”

“Let’s not talk like that, alright? You’re not being rational right now.” He took another slow step forward, hands still raised. In a sign of a truce, he unbuckled his knife and tossed it to the side, along with his guns and even the remote to the shock collar. “See honey? I don’t want to hurt you, it’s okay.”

Quick contemplation crossed your face. “Let’s go together then. Please…please I can introduce you as my boyfriend. They’d love you, really. I won’t tell them about this or anything I swear.”

Poor Bunny, negotiating isn’t going to work, it’s cute you tried though. Leon nodded anyway, taking another baby step closer. He just needed you to let down your guard for a moment, just a brief moment. “If that’s what you really want, we can probably work something out, ok? But you won’t be going anywhere if you hurt yourself. Do you want your family to know you killed yourself?”

The second you lowered the glass just slightly away from your neck, Leon took his move, grabbing your wrist so tightly you were forced to drop the glass. “See? It’s ok.”

“Please…please Leon I just want to go home. I just want to see them. I’m not crazy. I won’t report you or say anything. I can go back to work, we can go back to being neighbors.”

He brought his free hand up to cup your face. “Oh poor Bunny. You don’t understand, you don’t exist anymore.”

“What?”

“You heard me, baby. You don’t exist. You don’t have any friends or family. You’re not even a ghost - you simply don’t exist outside of this property.“

“No..no way–”

“Yes way baby. You should know, you’re the one who ran ragged trying to find a single person who remembered –I won't even dignify his name — did you really think I wasn’t going to do the same to you? Though honestly this is for your own protection”

“My friends and family, they don’t know who I am anymore?”

“No. They don’t know you, they’ve never heard of you, they’ve never met you.. Let me be doubly clear, you don’t exist to anyone outside of me and the cat.” Leon was treading carefully now, this wasn’t the outcome he expected. He’d have to think about how he wanted to proceed long term now that you knew some of what happened. For right now though you were scared and bleeding. He decided to continue to act with caution, but not without regaining some control, especially when that look of terror appeared in your eyes upon Lucipurr bolting out of the room. It was clear that it occurred to you the cat was all you now had besides Leon.

“Hey, shhhh. You know what? Like I said, I’m not even mad alright? I’m not mad. You were so good the whole time I was gone. I know you only came up here because of the cat. That’s my fault for leaving the door unlocked.” He tugged the classified folder from your hand, setting it down on the desk next to them. “No time out, no punishment. Just come with me, let’s get you cleaned up.”

When you didn’t move he pulled you into a tight hug changing strategies. “You don’t want to leave Lucip all alone do you?” He felt you shake your head against him. “Good. And you don’t want Lucipurr to have to die because you can’t behave, right?” You froze. That’s exactly what he wanted.

“Bunny, I asked you a question. You wouldn’t want the cat to die because of you, would you?”

“N-no.”

“Good, then I urge you to think about what might happen to Lucipurr if you decide to pull something like this again, it would really be sad if he had to die because you weren’t around anymore to take care of him.” Despite the open threat, he opted to rub your back still coaxing you to follow him out of the room. “Good girl. See? I told you, I’m not mad, don’t be scared. We’re just going to get you cleaned up. Shhhh.” He led you gently out of the attic and down to the bathroom, all the while thinking about his next steps.

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silkysong · 4 months

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Sorry, random ass ask here, but I just wanted to say screw that anon who complained, you do you and you draw and reblog what you vibe with the most atm and that's great!!

At the moment I can't interact with your cotl posts bc i still haven't played it and I'm strict with spoilers, so I scroll very fast when I see them appear on my dash but omg it's so tempting, it's so alluring, i can't wait to be done with my studies and memoir and then play the game, only to go back to your blog and indulge in all the amazing art and takes as if I was just discovering life changing sacred texts aaaafhhfjfkfjfkdjgkdk can't wait to be softly eaten alive by your blog <333 Idk who Narinder (?) is but I'm gonna devote my life to them I feel it

Sorry for the long random ask, have a great day and don't feel pressured to post certain things (i adore hk but diversifying is good) anyway bye!

good thing about my cult of the lamb stuff is that none of it is remotely close to canon <3 so enjoy it whenever you want and have fun with the game when you play it

#ask

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simp999 · 10 months

Note

Saw that your TF2 requests are open :) could you do some relationship headcanons with Demoman x Male reader?? If you don't want to write headcanons you can do whatever you feel most comfortable with, I don't mind :)

Have a good day!!

AHHHH DEMO MY BELOVED <333 thank you so much for requesting!!! I needed this for the soul, as an enby who likes being seen as masc www

Tf2 Demoman x Male! Reader Headcannons + Mini Drabble

Wc: 0.8k

Masterlist

-I like to think that Demo’s very touchy-feely. Not in a weird way, it just makes him happy having an arm wrapped around your shoulders, or even simply having linked pinkies under the table.

-Like, bro-type affection if that makes sense?? He likes being gentle with you at times of course, and very much cherishes those moments, but there’s something about being able to pick you up and squeeze you tight, or pushing you around then having you giggle because of it that’s special to him.

-Back to those soft moments, he loooves hugs and cuddles, but especially when you two are super close. Like you two can be hugging for an extended amount of time and feel comfortable, then you look up at him and smile (as he melts)

-And it’d just be wrong of him to not give you a kiss right then and there, right?

-Speaking of, TONS of forehead/temple/hairline kisses. They’re his favorite to give.

-He loves any of your kisses of course, but kissing him on the jaw does something man

-Friends to lovers 100%

-He’s your #1 Hype Man tm for sure!! You do anything, it doesn’t even have to be remotely cool and he’s like “HELL YEAH! THAT’S ME BOY!! MY BOY, AAAALL MINE!!”

-Also, since magic is canon, it’s possible he believes that you’re his soulmate. Or at the very least, his good luck charm <3.

-One thing that gets me totally soft is the idea that he drinks less around you, so that he can remember special- or any- moments with you better.

-If you enjoy drinking as well, there’s sure to be nights where you two just enjoy the night and drink together.

-Though, dating him definitely involves taking care of him.

-Everytime he wakes up to you caressing his face while he has a miserable hangover, he swears he falls for you even more.

-The fact that you’re a boy wouldn’t change anything really, love is love. That’s just how Demo grew up.

-He’s not afraid to show you off to others, being so proud of you!!

-"Look at my handsome boyfriend!! Isn’t he the cutest?!"

-Speaking of praise, he gets extremely emotional about it when he’s drunk;

“Why’re ye looookin’ at me like..like that, luv?” He sways a bit as he speaks, while he sits on his bed, with you comfortably tucked in his arms.

He had drank more than usual tonight, wanting to celebrate the impressive win you had earlier that day. The celebration had ended almost an hour ago, but the two of you still wanted to spend time together.

“Am I not allowed to admire my pretty boyfriend?~”

It takes a few moments to comprehend and then put together your words, but you can see the way his face heats up. He quickly tries to hide it by hugging you, and nestling in the crook of your neck.

The two of you lay like that for a while, the position being comfortable and warm. You could easily fall asleep on him, but he backs away before you could. His voice is much quieter, and the way he mumbles makes it tough to discern what he’s saying.

“Aye, luv… ye really think I’m pretty?”

Without missing a beat, you carefully bring your hand up to caress his face, and give him a short kiss.

“The prettiest.”

Extra trans male headcanons for the soul:

-If you’re trans, he is the most reassuring and comforting man you’ll meet.

-If you ever feel dysphoric, he’s so quick to shut it down.

-No!! You’re the most handsome, strong, boyest boy he’s ever met. (Yes, that’s something he’s told you.)

-I highly doubt any of the mercs would misgender you, and none of them would ever do it on purpose. But let’s say you did run into some transphobe douche while you’re out and about, I can promise that Demo would have a short fuse. (Pun intended-)

-He’d quickly passive-agressively say that you’re his boyfriend.

-And if the ass doesn’t get the hint? Well, you won’t have to worry about them for long after they get blown up.

-If you bind, he will not allow you to do so during battle. He assures you that you can wear the binder whenever you’re out and about, or even as soon as you get back to base if it makes you feel better about yourself.

-He’s always on your ass about taking breaks and stretching, but he does it ‘cause he loves you. :)

-If you had top surgery, he LOVES kissing your scars. Or even tracing his fingers over them, through a shirt or not.

-He totally loves getting you trinkets or literally anything with the trans flag or trans flag colors on it. He buys so many stickers and pins, and even a white, light blue, and light pink plushie he found.

July.25.23

#tf2 #team fortress #team fortress 2 #team fortress two #tf2 x reader #team fortress 2 x reader #tf2 x you #tf2 demo x reader #tf2 demo #tf2 demoman #team fortress demoman #team fortress 2 demoman x reader #x reader #fanfic

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lunarmoonanons · 11 months

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Do You Love Me?

🌕 🌖 🌗 🌘 🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕

YN Velaryon has a burning question for her once dear friend, Aemond. Not canon to Fire and Salt

🌕 🌖 🌗 🌘 🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕

Masterlist

YN needed answers. For her life and her needs she needed answers to what the future might hold. She wanted to know what her mother was to do if the world turned against her. She wanted to know if she was to be married off with none of her say considered. She wanted to know the truth behind her father’s death. Mostly she wanted the answer to a question from someone whom her heart yearned to hear from since their parting when they were children. So without any knowledge from her family, YN wrote a simple note to her once close companion: Aemond.

The note simply said: “Come to this place in three days. Tell no one. Come alone. I need to see you.” Along with the note she included directions to a remote tiny island away from Westorous.

And so after three days, YN took Seasmoke under the cover of night and flew to the island that she knew no one else would be at. She arrived first and spent the first two hours pacing and biting her thumbnail, occasionally she played with the ends of her curly hair that was wild from the wind. Her stomach was aflutter from what she was planning to say and from the fear that he wouldn't show up or that he would show up with others. Her stomach turned, her skin felt too hot, her hands shook, and her dress felt too constrictive.

But when the third hour approached, YN heard the sound of massive wings coming her way. Looking to the sky, she saw the giant dragon Vaghar. Aemond was alone and coming to see her. Suddenly her resolve felt weak. She was ready to present herself as she was and ask Aemond her drilling questions, but when she saw he drew close it felt like her knees were weak. She stopped her frantic pacing and stood strong to face him. When he landed YN clenched and unclenched her fist to steady herself.

“It took some time to get away with a proper excuse. I’m sorry to have made you wait.” Aemond tried to explain as he dismounted from the beast. He strode toward her and finally the two faced each other.

“What do you need of me?” He whispered.

YN took a breath and looked right into his eye. “I believe you miss me. That you’ve missed our friendship.”

“I do. I truly have missed you.” Aemond was honest.

“Well…” YN sighed. “I’ve missed you too. Against what you have thought I haven’t just burned your letters to me. I haven’t read them but I have kept them.”

“YN. You know I have always thought the world of you. That my feelings toward you have never been anger..” Aemond looked away and sighed. “But your brothers bring out the worst in me. I can’t help but show my worst side to them-”

“I think you miss more then our friendship. That when you miss me, you miss what might’ve been between us. And now you mourn us because our families would never let us be. I care too much about my brothers, and you care enough about what your mother would say.”

Aemond said nothing but he finally looked back at her.

“I’ve said I hated you. But I’ve forgotten how close hate is to love. How the feelings of love for you, felt like hatred for what you said about my brothers.” YN tried to keep her thoughts clear.

“Because you outrank them, by blood you are Velaryon and Targaryen. They are not us and-”

YN raised a hand to stop him and continued. “I’ve not come to argue again. I wanted to know something.”

“Yes?”

“I could live far away from here. If I had the love of one person, I could learn to love without my family. But I would need them to love me and be away from all this.” YN tried to explain.

“YN…”

“Do you love me?” YN finally asked. Her burning question.

“This has nothing to do with just loving you.” Aemond tried to explain.

“Do you love me?”

“It is more complicated than that.” Aemond argued.

“Do you love me?”

“I have spent my whole life trying to be a Targaryen. To live up to that name. To just throw it away now what would be the point? My live, my family. They all expect me-”

“I will be your family. I have expected nothing from you. You don't need to live up to anything with me. I know who you are. You are more than just a name to me. You are everything. Do. You. Love Me?” YN shouted.

“I love you!” Aemond shouted back. “I love you so dearly. I love your fire. I love your voice. I love everything about you. It feels like an eternity when you are not near. I love you YN. I have always loved you.”

His pale hand touched her brown warm cheek. The two said nothing as they closed the gap between them and kissed. Passionately and lovingly they kissed and embraced each other finally. Years of missing the other boiled over into this desperate kiss. Eventually they pulled away and stared at each other.

“I love you too.” YN whispered. “So choose me. We don’t have to stay like this. You don’t have to live up to an impossible name. We don’t have to be a family name. We can just be us.”

“I’ve spent my whole life trying to be a Targaryen. I don’t know what else to be.” Aemond said in a breathy tone.

YN raised her hands and grabbed his face, warm palms against his cold cheeks. “I love you. I don’t want Aemond Targaryen. I just want Aemond.”

Aemond looked into her face and saw nothing but genuine love. Love that only asked one thing from him. To choose her. To choose them. Aemond brought his lips to hers once again and finally they were together again. He didn’t have to live up to a family name with her. He only had to choose her.

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #Aemond x Reader #aemond imagine #velaryon reader #woc reader #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd x reader

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seth-burroughs · 2 months

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The Rain Code x Warriors au no one asked for nor will receive an explanation for

What's up I'm still doing bad and feel my last year's mystery stress sickness is coming back and none of my drafts are anywhere remotely close to getting finished anytime soon because of that how are you are you interested in cat

(picked the TPB timeline because it makes the most sense and has the most fitting characters, but I might cheat or bend it a little, we'll see)

Yuma Kokohead -> Rusty/Firestar

Main boy :) because of course he is. Yuma's now an orange cat. Firestar was the name of Number One, and Rusty (canonically Fire's old house cat name, I'm not calling them kittypets I'm sorry) was the name of the trainee he very politely borrowed his identity for.

Makoto Kagutsuchi -> Scourge

In wc canon, Scourge is also Firestar's half-brother (but they don't ever knooow) and they both kill each other + he's canonically stated to be VERY short like one of the smallest cats in the series. After the cloning, Makoscourge painted his fur completely black except for a one white paw (for the aesthetics. or maybe I'll just give Fire a white paw as well, kinda like Yuma's and Makoto's lil ahoges), started wearing the "OwO" mask, the dog tooth studded shrimp color collar, the fucking blood dyed amv bangs, the dog tooth reinforced claws........ The former CEO took him to hot topic for the first time in his life and he was fucking MESMERIZED none of them knew what they have brought upon themselves by this single act. He is a very silly man, lost in the whimsy. When his mask gets pulled off in the Mystery Labirynth, his face is just not dyed at all and it's just ginger with green eyes just like Rusty's/Firestar's/Yuma's/whatever.

Shinigami -> Spottedleaf

In canon, Spottedleaf does infamously end up haunting Firestar's dreams as a ghost to send him cryptic visions and furiously make out with him in front of his pregnant wife, he did have a crush on her before she died and I'm pretty sure she was retconned into reciprocating it was real bad and then they double killed her so Fire won't have to choose between her and his wife in heaven it was REAL bad uhh. I still like her though. I can get you out of the narrative girl just take my hand.... She can be the weirdgirl incarnate she was always meant to be. I wanted to say something else but then I realized holy shit I'm just tweaking her into Bonefall rewrite Spottedleaf am I... What can I say it IS peak Spottedleaf.

Yomi Hellsmile -> Tigerstar

Also extremely obvious. He is evil and has immaculate sexual tension between the protag whoops sorry I forgot literally only me and like 2 other people here ship Yuma and Yomi uhh anyway. While it does fit I'm a little dissapointed that Yomi/Tigerstar is gonna be losing so much of his cringe charm..... Like, say goodbye to deeply unserious insecure prettyboy toothpick Yaoi with silly little insults such as "umbrella sewing machine man operating hand hook car table" and how do I even describe all of this in less than 3 paragraphs. Say hello to broad-shouldered muscular extremely intimidating 100% serious and competent fascist built like a fucking brick shithouse with very broad-shoulders that doesn't need a henchman boytoy to handle all his numerous murders, have I mentioned his massive fucking broad shoulders, Firestar sure did do that a lot. It's like, where's the fun..... Whatever.... I guess...........😔😔😔

Martina Electro -> Leopardstar

Now for an assigned role I'm way more cool with >:)))) for an outrageously long while I had trouble with whether Martina should be Sasha or Goldenflower, fool I was, until I remembered Leopardstar fucking exists. She is literally perfect like I cannot state this enough. AND canonically she was later retconned to have feelings for Tigerstar but I hate to acknowledge it how dare you massacre Lep like that. She can still be his gf alongside vice director though, she's just engaging in acts of deceit whilst putting opioids in his food and trying her darndest to convince herself she's actually 100% in control of the situation before she's dragged to the cube dimension and has a brief "are we the baddies" moment. I don't think she still resigns from being a peacekeeper though Leopardstar 100% would take that fucking promotion the moment she's offered it and a year later when she' done feeling guilty regresses back into being a violent asshole she has learned NOTHING❤️

Fake/Hitman Zilch -> Darkstripe

So many dissapointments happening here sigh..... This one was obvious and honestly the only valid option for FZilch aside from maybe Nightwhisper or Blackfoot? Anyway, the downsides: one, Darkstripe will never be as cool as fake Zilch he thrives on being a cringe mistreated lickspittle. Two, he's definitely not one of Tigerstar's "closest advisors (🏳️‍🌈)" whilst Dark is pretty obsessed Tiger does not give a shit and considers him a looooooser boooo lameee fuck you *canonically swats him away with his tail that one scene*. But, I mean, at least the toxic yaoi became an entire new category of toxic.

Swank Catsonell -> Brokenstar

Pure vibes. It just fits. He employs small children and makes them fight to the death in his office for glory

Seth Burroughs -> Longtail

In canon, another one of Tigerstar's lackeys that didn't know about his crimes and when he found out he immediately left. I thought he was not evil enough to be Seth at first, but it kinda fits and he does make up for it in his cringe value and being noted to be a coward, though that may have been just Fire's opinion. Also, with all the bunny Seth Burrows jokes, I'd like to mention Longtail got his eyes clawed by a rabbit so hard he went blind so do with that what you will

Guillaume Hall -> Russetfur

Aaaand this is where I started having trouble with the remaining peacekeepers. Eventually I settled on Russetfur & Blackfoot/Blackstar for Guillaume and Dominic, because I like this danger duo I and some of the fandom completely made up about them. It's okay, the authors don't know you like we do...... While Blackstar did have a higher rank and Russet was his deputy, I do think she still had at least an equal amount of power as him, they're buddies pair bonded for life Blackstar is nodding respectfully to whatever incomprehensible wisdom she's sharing

Dominic Fulltank -> Blackfoot/star

In canon, started out as a murderous henchman of two major equally murderous evil dictators, before they both died and he finally got that boss promotion he always wanted, then he got ruined by the, you guessed it, retcons, but I don't like to be reminded of his atrocity of a novella. I always imagined Blackstar as like, unbelievably jacked holy shit the muscles on that cat, (and honestly most of the fandom does too so. lmao) and he does indeed canonically unflinchingly do the dirty work of all his bosses such as killing and maiming and destroying an

You get the point. He serious'd. Darkstripe wishes he could be him. And I'm pretty sure that was even canonically implied in the sixth book lmaooooooooo. Loser <3

Dr. Huesca -> um. Goosefeather?

The looks definitely fit, Dr. Huesca indeed bears striking resemblance to that tortured feline. However, while sometimes an asshole, Goose is definitely not evil... But he could be. He deserves to be. As a treat. Also: old man pride

Kurumi Wendy -> Cinderpaw/pelt

Easy, get Cinder'd idiot. They even have a pretty similiar energy too, I feel. This is where I got a bit tired, uhh...It's 11pm. Anyway I love Cinder and I love Kurumi say anything bad about them and I'll start scream crying on the floor

Halara Nightmare -> Yellowfang

Halara gets the old beam. They're now in their fucking 60s or something perhaps 70s. Yellowfang, on the other hand, gets the non-binary spec beam. She already gave off massive butch vibes in canon already, whatever. I don't think I can uhh in short terms explain Yellowfang's whole deal rn but the gist of it she's a very snarky grandma figure to Fire that gradually warmed up to him while she was- my cat vomited. While he was assigned to take care of her while she was taken prisoner into ThunderClan camp. Her personality's pretty funky. And she does seem cool enough in order to deserve to be Halara Nightmare.

Desuhiko Thunderbolt -> Graystripe

I think I'm taking a break and coming back to this tomorrow actually after all. Hello this is tomorrow Jasper. In canon, Graystripe is Fire's silly goofy boybestie when they're young, then he starts secretly dating Silverstream - hold on i can't fuvking take tjis im making myself hot cocoa again bye. Ok it's done let's see if that makes me feel something. As I was saying he's dating this cat and she's from a rival Clan so that's illegal forbidden love and then she dies during childbirth and he leaves his own Clan for a while to raise their babies there but then he gets exiled and goes back to his own and then his kids almost get publically executed for being half-clan so he and his buddies rescue them. And then he gets abducted by humans and meets this new gal called Millie and they start dating and then she gives birth to his new babies and then a tree falls on one of them. I'm pretty sure Fire was also pretty gay for that guy. Uh, anyway. I think he fits the bill because of his goofy charm but also it's pretty disturbing to imagine any iteration of Desuhiko actually getting bitches

Fubuki Clockford -> um. uh. Silverstream?

Silverstream, in canon, is the only daughter of Crookedstar, the leader of RiverClan, and is (implied to not having a problem with) getting various privileges because of this. Fits with Fubuki's rich timelord parents, plus light blue aesthetic, and a few other things which are hard to articulate. Only thing is that she's generally way more headstrong and impulsive than Fubuki showed to be, could "bend her father to her will with little effort", and disrespects the law if it's stupid to her which, queen shit. I think she'll play a lot of little pranks with her time powers, and devote her free time/time with YumaRusty when he's accused of terrorism crimes (but that's just unrestrained summer fun anyway) to absolutely decimate any peacekeepers they come across with some looney tunes shit

Vivia Twilight -> I'll be honest I have no fucking idea

Zero fucking idea. Literally NOBODY in this arc fits for the 5D chess of a character Vivia is. I'm not even sure if in any of the books. Help me. But also I don't really care because I don't even like Vivia at all anyway he freaks me out get him away from me.

Yakou Furio -> Bluestar?

Protag mentor figure except Bluestar is actually doing a good job at that until she loses her marbles after her mid-arc torment gauntlet and has a corruption arc until she drowns and gets healed of all her issues momentarily before fucking dying. She has a dead husband, dead mom, dead sister, dead baby, dead deputy, dead deputy #2, dead bestie, holy shit that's a lot of motives for suicidemurdering Huesgoose. Btw Goose was her weird voice of god hearing uncle in canon (and he was also dead) but I'm probably taking it out unless. Anyway she's kinda too good for Yakou but. They're also both blue like that is a blue cat

And for some side characters, keyword some:

Aiko -> Littlepaw/cloud

Aetheria's now not an all girls school anymore sorry I cannot do this guys. Littlecloud was Cinder's/Kurumi's good buddy and I like their friendship. Unfortunately, you know what that means.

Karen -> Swiftpaw

Originally was supposed to have Aiko's place before I remembered Little exists. In canon his most notable moment was dying brutally, which I mean also fits the Karen quota. Plus, while not an asshole per se he does have a more fiery/overall angry personality and he did try to impulsively take on a pack of dogs to prove himself and fucking died, if under enough pressure I'm pretty sure he could smash Aiko's/Littlepaw's head in with a brick too👍👍

Yoshiko, Waruna, Kurane -> Brackenpaw/fur, Thornpaw/claw, Brightpaw/heart?

Siblings in canon and two of them are guys so no murderous yuri I guess :(( But I mean I don't have to follow canon to a T anyway lmao so we'll see. In canon, basically the other three remaining apprentices along with Swiftpaw and the ashfern siblings, plus they do function as a trio via just being sibs. Plus some notes from the books: Cinder is the fourth sibling. Brightpaw follows Swiftpaw in his quest to slay the doggy and while he dies she survives but gets her eyeball and half of her entire face's fur torn off.

Real Zilch -> Redtail

He's very dead. Very, very dead. His most iconic moment was dying abruptly and tragically via murder rip in rest

Kei Colan -> Snowkit

He is a child. That's a little boy

Snowkit, signing furiously: MY MAMA GOT FRAMED AND IS GOING TO BE PUBLICALLY EXECUTED BY THE PEACEKEEPERS IF NOTHING IS DONE PLEASE HELP MEEEEEEEEEEEE. HELP MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

Yellowfang, signing back in swagful motions: and how much cash does your mama have on her currently

Jiei Colan -> Speckletail

Snowkit's very old mama. Looks like she could kill you but genuinely does not have a body count. Yet.

Ramen Stand Owner -> Ravenpaw

Ravenpaw in canon hit the bricks and ran away from the Clans due to being in danger there, and lived out the rest of his days on a farm with his cowboy boyfriend Barley mostly free of drama. I'd say that fits lmao. We can make his old name Rusty, not a problem.

Margulaw -> Pinestar

90 year old voice "yeah so uhh my fucking son grew up to be a dictator now. When he was a newborn ghosts were yelling at me to kill him because he'll grow up to be a bad man otherwise and of course like any sane kanaiwardian father I said "fuck that" and had to leave ma' family behind run away from the company so the demons would shut up. And y'know little buddy... Sometimes I wonder. Sometimes I just can't help but. Y'know. Anyway. Sigh."

Do you get my vision did that sound comprehensible

#mine #rain code #warrior code au #<- oh hey thats an actual thing in wc lmao.#Not tagging any of those characters hell nooo.#the i did not proofread this tag

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allzelemonz · 2 years

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Wrong Door: The Master X Male Reader

Prompt: Tropesgiving Day 1: Enemies to Lovers Pronouns: He/Him Physical Sex: None Mentioned Rating: T/Moderate Themes Warnings: Canon typical violence, double meaning/implied future intimacy, background Yaz/Doctor, Dhawan Master Summary: The Doctor responds to a distress signal and meets an unexpected enemy with the intention of hurting her and the fam. When everyone’s plans are ruined, a certain Timelord has to improvise.

When the Doctor first came to you, you never imagined leaving.

Through every Dalek, every Cyberman, even every creepy Weeping Angel, the Doctor protected you and made sure there was still some fun while doing it. The TARDIS quickly became your home, the Doctor quickly became your friend. Yaz, Dan, everyone that joined the Doctor made for a good family.

But this adventure is throwing things all out of whack.

First there’s a distress signal that appears Dalek. Then there’s a horde of Cybermen. Now there’s an Angel. An angel on a screen that you can’t find the remote to and an Angel just outside of the door that Dan can’t take his eyes off of to help you. You’ve both called for the Doctor, but she’s busy with Yaz and the Cybermen.

Your hand moves across the surfaces around you, trying to feel anything that seems like a remote. There’s endless papers, books, random boxes, but no remote. You hear a swoosh and the sound of Dan taking a step back. You have to resist the urge to look back at him.

“Can you get the door controls?” You ask.

“I think they’re on the wall, but I can’t look at them.”

You take a shaky breath and try to feel for the remote again. Just as your fingers reach the end of the table you hear a mechanism click. There’s a breeze behind you and Dan shouts before a solid slam echoes around you. The urge to turn your head is stronger than ever, but you resist. Instead you step back until your hand rests on what feels like a metal wall. A wall separating you and your friend. A wall pitting you both alone against an Angel.

Before you can get you hand back on the table to feel for the remote you hear a somewhat familiar buzzing. Not quite the screwdriver you know, but it’s definitely something sonic. The Angel on the screen flickers a few times before going black. Your eyes stay fixed, still unblinking, unsure if the Angel will return.

“Aren’t you going to thank me?”

His is not the kind of voice you forget. Not after what you’ve seen him do. Your eyes finally blink as you take another shaky breath. When they open, you have the will to move them to a little nook where you’re sure he transported in. His smug face makes things clear. He faked the signa;. He brought the Cybermen. He planted the Weeping Angels. He dropped the wall between you and Dan. He brought you all here to do who knows what. Something sick and twisted cooked up in his evil mind just for the Doctor. Just to see her and the people she loves suffer.

He makes an expecting face, waiting for his thanks. You keep a steady glare aimed at him instead. The resting look of a monster returns over his features. The playful Master is gone and you’ve brought out the monster.

“I thought the Doctor and her precious fam were supposed to be all fun and happy.”

Your gaze doesn't waver as he stands. His apathetic way of walking is so different from the Doctor’s. She always has a purpose, even if it’s just to make someone smile. The Master walks as if he has nowhere to be, as if his plan isn’t unfolding perfectly as he plays with his food.

“Whatever you planned-”

“The Doctor will stop me,” He interrupts, moving closer to you. “won’t she?”

He whispers the question to you, close enough to make you shiver but not so close that you could push him away. Your glare meets his eyes for just a moment. Just long enough to see the fire in them that burns too bright for your liking.

“She will.”

That fire dies just a little. Just enough to bring a smug smile to your face. The Master seems annoyed by it, not just discouraged, annoyed. Without breaking your little staring contest, he points his sonic at the wall. It groans as it slides to make a doorway to a long, dark passage. He grabs your shirt collar, pulling you close and dragging you to the open wall.

“Well,” He sneers. “Let's see her save you from them.”

With a swift shove he throws you through the door. Before you can run back at him, the wall slides shut as he points his sonic to it and gives you a cheeky final wave with a smirk. You’re not entirely sure if you’re relieved to be rid of him or not. The way he said ‘them’ puts an air of hesitation to your movements. You decide not to play his little game. Whatever is waiting for you at the end of this tunnel is not something you’re willing to walk into.

However, the Master has other plans. You hear a mechanism click behind you and the wall behind you begins to move. You try to dig your feet in and stay put, but the wall only pushes you forward. You’re no match. The end of the tunnel brings some light, but the sounds that accompany it are worse than the dark.

The sounds of Daleks.

As the wall grinds to a loud stop every single eyestalk looks up at you. The cavern is full of hundreds of Daleks. In the middle is a large device, clearly Dalek technology, that whirs with a purpose. The Daleks begin to clamor, various ‘Exterminates’ and orders overlap each other.

“He is an associate of the Doctor, he will be captured and interrogated!”

That order echoes around the chamber, silencing all of the others. Every Dalek returns to their duties, except for two that fly up to meet you. The last thing you see is their glowing blue eyestalks closing in before things fade to black.

It’s the voice of the Doctor that wakes you. That weird sensation when the voice is in the dream until it pulls out to the reality outside. The Doctor’s voice, then the sound to the Daleks and the Cybermen, then someone’s pulling you up from the ground. You blink your senses back to see Yaz and Dan at your sides. The Doctor is ahead of you, giving one of her great speeches when she turns on a dime, aiming her sonic screwdriver at a large, seemingly important, console. Sparks fly out of it and the cavernous room goes pitch black. Yaz and Dan pull you along a pre-established path with the Doctor close behind.

The TARDIS is in sight.

Then he steps out.

The Master comes around the side of the TARDIS, a delighted look on his face as he runs his hand along the false wood finish of the big, blue box.

“Doctor,” His smile grows as he says her name. “I expected more of a fight, not a retreat.”

“I’m not gonna let you hurt anyone here.” The Doctor’s words are full of frustration layered just under the surface.

And the Master’s chuckle is all the more unsettling, “Dear Doctor, you won’t-“

The blaring sound of an alarm cuts him off. The lights around you darken and an emergency lighting with a red hue replaces them. Even in the dim lighting, the look of confusion is clear on the Master’s face. This isn’t his doing.

An echoing boom precedes the announcement of the saboteurs, “All inhabitants will yield to the glory of the Sontaran Empire!”

The Master exclaims in frustration and his foot stomps as he starts his tantrum, but the sound is lost to the growing echoes of marching Sontaran forces. At your side, Yaz begins to take steps backwards. Her hand grips your am, pulling you with her. In turn, you pull Dan along as well. The Doctor doesn’t move until they come into view— nearly a hundred of them in lines to form a large and imposing company.

The Doctor runs to the three of you and takes Yaz’s hand. You and Dan join her in a run and it isn’t long before you can hear the Master running behind you.

“Please tell me you’ve got a TARDIS!” The Doctor shouts back to him.

“I might.” He replies, keeping his snark even as the Sontarans begin to fire at his head.

“Oh, just tell us where the bloody thing is!” Dan shouts as he ducks under the blasts, his tall stature betraying him.

“Left!” The Master shouts, his pace now matching yours and Dan’s.

The Doctor veers left, pulling Yaz with her. The three of you follow suit. As the Master gives out directions he corridors only grow louder as the Dales and Cybermen join the fight. Just before you’re about to turn the next corner you’re pulled to the side.

Dan is the first to notice that the Master has grabbed you. The crazed Timelord holds a weapon to your head and backs into the shadows before the Doctor can see you taken. You fight against his grip on your arm, but he quickly reminds you of the weapon aimed at your head. He leads you to his TARDIS, tucked away from where he had been leading the Doctor.

He pushes you inside, closing the door behind him before turning to you, “If you even think of trying to get back to your precious Doctor, I’ll kill you in front of her.”

His intense glare makes you nod. He moves to the TARDIS console and works the controls, saving you both from the merciless enemies of the Doctor. You land with a thud and the Master runs to the door. You follow him, peering outside to see the Dalek chamber, now deserted. The Master rushes to a control console and aims a sonic device at it. As the familiar buzz fills the room you step outside, your eyes grazing over the large room that had been crawling with Daleks only a few minutes ago.

“What was your plan?”

Your question marks him pause, banging his fist on the console in frustration, “The TARDIS, I wanted the TARDIS.”

“Why’d you keep me alive?” You paused for a moment, “Twice.”

He lets a smile form on his face as he chuckles. “The first time, I needed the Doctor to find the Daleks. And I know she’d never leave one of her precious companions behind.” He spits the words precious companions as if they’re a venom invading his mouth.

“And now? Why am I here?”

He chuckles again, “Because I think your death might hurt her the most.”

“Yaz is the one she’s in love with.”

“Yes, yes, but you haven’t been with her too long.” He straightens up and pulls his sonic away from the console. “Long enough to bond, short enough to devastate.”

“Dan hasn’t been with us that long either.” You challenge, “Why not him?”

“Because I don’t like him.” The Master sighs like a child.

“But you like me?”

“I didn’t think you would be asked so many questions.”

“Just one more.”

He groans, “Fine, but then I want you absolutely silent.”

“Okay.” Your mind filters through the different questions you could ask. Maybe there’s something you could learn to help the Doctor, but your last question hangs in the air with an irritating level of unanswer. “Do you, let’s say, not despise me?”

He giggles, not a chuckle this time, but a giddy giggle as he steps closer to you. “I find you delightfully irritating.”

His breath hits your ear due to his proximity and he gives you a smile before he walks past you and opens the door to his TARDIS, gesturing for you to enter. With a skeptical look you follow his passive order. He dances around the controls with much more elegance than the Doctor ever could. When you land again, he rushes to the door with an eerie excitement.

When you follow him out you find the Doctor, Yaz, and Dan by the TARDIS, no Sontarans in sight. Their faces light up when you step out, Yaz takes a step towards you but the Doctor stops her. Both of their eyes move to the Master’s hand where he holds the same weapon he had held to your head before.

“What was I saying before we were so rudely interrupted?” The Master ponders. “Oh, of course,” He sneers, “you can’t save everyone.”

He levels the weapon at your head and both Yaz and Dan cry out, but the Master silences them with a sharp jab to draw their attention back to the weapon.

“He has nothing to do with this, let him go.” The Doctor’s voice sounds calm on the surface, but there is that fiery rage just underneath.

“I have a better idea.” The Master lowers his weapon and steps behind you, a hand on your shoulder and his face close to your ear. “Let’s have him make a choice. The Doctor or the Master!”

“This is ridiculous, come on, man!” Dan waves his hand for you to walk forward.

“Stay with me and I’ll show you things she never would.”

The Master whispers in your ear and it nullifies the shouting of your friends. The devil-on-your-shoulder temptation is quite literally deafening.

“With her goody-goody self righteousness, she’ll never show you all of the juicy bits.” His hand tightens on your shoulder. “But I will. I’ll show you whatever you want.”

There’s a brief shout from Yaz that breaks through about how you shouldn’t listen to him, that he’s lying and he’s evil. But your mind is already racing with the possibilities, all of the things the Doctor would never let you do because of the danger or the morality or the rules of time.

“Forbidden is just a word, my dear.”

The Master’s final whisper echoes through every crevice in your brain as he backs away and his hand opens the TARDIS door behind him. The fam’s shouts grow louder now that he has left your side. You can hear them again, telling you to run, but your feet have made up their minds. It isn’t until you're standing in front of him that your head has caught up and agreed. The Master’s hand comes up to trace your jawline as a smile spreads over his face.

“We’re going to have so much fun!”

The fire in his eyes pushes his double meaning, neither one being something you would ever object to. Without looking back at your dear friends, you step into the wrong door.

#doctor who #the master #sacha dhawan #dhawan master #doctor who x reader #the master x reader #dhawan master x reader #doctor who x male reader #the master x male reader #dhawan master x male reader #x reader #x male reader #tropesgiving

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alienaiver · 1 year

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Heavy is the Heart that Grieves

Aizawa Shouta x gn!reader (with a hint of past shirakumo oboro x reader)

warnings: character death and the exploration of grief, minor mention of suicidal thoughts, hurt and angst wordcount: 2.3k content: major angst, hurt/comfort, sfw, canon compliant, genderneutral reader, poc!friendly reader, season 5 spoilers, bittersweet ending, oboro’s 30th birthday but he’s still canonly passed away, reader was in love with shirakumo when they were young but ended with aizawa and he’s comforting them on this day, ready to be there for reader as they grief over the loss of their best friend, lots of ugly crying and snot, aizawa’s going thru it too, not beta’d or proofwritten (also as a minor warning, im not saying what aizawa's doing is healthy either!)

notes: my own best friend was supposed to turn 30 last week and tHAT was a big blow for me. i had a lot to process and would’ve liked an aizawa to hug me through it so i wrote this to comfort myself. everyone grieves differently tho and i am probably my only target audience on this. stay safe everyone and heed the warnings<3 'right here' by ashes remain is what mostly motivated my aizawa if ur into music and lyrics!!

22.54

You’re snuggled up close to Aizawa who’s massaging your scalp as your favorite TV show is running on the television. It’s a typical Thursday evening and usually you both would have work in the morning but together with Yamada you’ve all three taken the day off tomorrow. It stings in Aizawa’s chest if he thinks too hard about tomorrow, so he tries not to. You laugh at a joke being made and he lets air out through his nose. You reach for the chocolate on the table in front of you and Aizawa’s heart squeezes as you offer him a piece before you take one for yourself. You’re good at that, putting others before yourself. He declines with a kiss and a thank you to your forehead and you shrug, “more for me, then.”

You’re trying to be stealth but it’s not lost on Aizawa how often you check the clock and the shaky sighs you release each time the handle has traveled further and further, closer and closer to the date and also farther and farther from the day you last saw him. It’s scary to count down like this and as he’s done all day - if not all week actually - Aizawa pushes it away, deep down inside him where he doesn’t have to think too hard about it.

Because just like Shirakumo, he’s good at putting others before himself as well, even if he doesn’t believe he can even compare to a boy like him.

23.39

Your feet fidgets under the shared blanket and the laughs you’ve let out during the funny bits of the episodes has worryingly diminished. They’re now as bland and performative as Aizawa’s small snorts to indicate he enjoyed the joke. Aizawa’s massaging of your scalp and nape has increased in pressure, exuding his own tension through the motions. There’s no more chocolate and while none of you even wanted anything to begin with, it’s served as a good fidget and distraction through the excruciating long hours you’ve been pacing through like a marathon this evening. You know Yamada is on shift at his radio station and Aizawa sucks in his teeth when he realizes neither of you can call him at midnight.

“Should I turn on the radio?” he asks as the outro begins for the fifth episode and you nod as you push yourself closer to him, finding comfort in the closeness. He reaches over you for the television remote as you reach for the remote for the radio. You can’t believe it’s 2022 and Aizawa Shouta still owns a radio and CD-player. In the back of your mind you know it’s so he can hear Yamada in the most authentic state with a quality of sound he just can’t get on his outdated Samsung phone but the thought is still so ridiculous that it brings a smile to your face despite the time and rapidly approaching date.

00.00

A song ends on the radio at precisely midnight and you know it’s Yamada’s own planning and doing. There’re a few beats of quiet before you hear Yamada inhale and Aizawa feels his heart shatter in a million fragments as his best friend opens his mouth. Aizawa knows it’s only you and him that’ll be able to detect the wobbliness of his voice in his next words,

“Today has just become May 5th and that marks a very special day,” Yamada laughs and continues, “today my best friend’s turning 30. So I’d like to celebrate and play his favorite song. Dear Generation Alpha listeners, you might not recognize this song but I promise it was big when I was young!”

As the volume of the song slowly rises, you hear Yamada mutter out a “God I sounded old,” too close to the mic and you both snort of laughs. Aizawa hears the first tell-tale of your emotions as you sniffle in too. The vocals in Hoobastank’s The Reason makes you squeeze Aizawa’s arm and he reacts by squeezing you closer to him and kiss the top of your head.

You’ve never been sure why this was Shirakumo’s favorite song. You’d often asked and he’d made a joke about the beat and the speed in which he creates clouds fits, but the lyrics are so unfit for him and has always felt so. Aizawa feels the warm wetness of your tears as they glide down his forearm. He steels himself and evens out his breathing.

“Do you remember back when he accidentally stole that chocolate milk because he was distracted by the teller and none of them noticed?” Aizawa chuckles and heaves a breath in to add, “yeah, she was madder about the fact that he came back to pay because she thought if she’d missed it, he could’ve just kept it.”

A shaky laugh leaves you as you continue the story after Aizawa, “yeah, she saw me waiting for him outside and insisted he got one for free so we could have one each.”

Aizawa knows the stories you’re gonna be re-telling. You tell them every year, twice. For his birthday and for the date of his death. The heaviness you’ve all three felt on his birthday hasn’t been as immense in many years but a milestone like 30 had punched all of you in the gut when you’d counted and realized.

You sniffle again and you try to conceal a sob behind a laugh, “or that time he changed clothes in the classroom.”

That one actually succeeds in making Aizawa laugh because as annoying as the situation had been back then, it’d morphed into a sort of happy, core memory of his friend after he’d gotten older.

You exchange a few more stories of his chaotic but always good-natured way of interacting with the world, of the laughs and his never-ending attempts at brightening up anyone’s day. After another one of how he had been one of the people hyping up Yamada’s hero-persona haircut, you’d turned around in his grasp and hidden your face in his chest before full-blown sobs had left you.

Aizawa is biting the underside of his lips as you let out heart-wrenching sobs, the ones that makes his stomach ache. He coos at you and kisses the top of your head while his hand is drawing comforting circles over your back.

“I miss him,” you choke out before you hiccup and Aizawa nods, “me too.”

“He should’ve been here, Shou, he should’ve." you cry out and Aizawa can’t hold back his own shaking, “I know.”

“But he’s not here. He’s not anywhere.”

Aizawa’s often felt out of place compared to his fellow humans around him, felt like he was one link off in emotional range and rationality. One thing he’s completely in tune with other people in is grief. Grief has struck him as natural as unnatural as it is. The need to talk about the days where his friend was alive, to go to his graveside and have conversations, the keeping of plants he knew Shirakumo liked. All of those things have made perfect sense to his process as much as they weren’t logical to his rational mind at all. He feels at ease when you make his favorite dish that you’ve perfected for the sake of his birthday or the days where you stop by U.A with a can of Shirakumo’s favorite soda for you, Yamada, and him to enjoy.

But he doesn’t like when other people are grieving. He’s unsure as to what helps and he feels inadequate. But he supposes he can’t do too much wrong, seeing you still decide to spend every terrible death anniversary and birthday with him, comforted by his stunted emotional availability.

You try to breathe in through your nose but it’s effectively blocked by all the snot your body’s producing from such a heavy cry. Aizawa hushes you with a kiss to reassure you he’s not going away before he pulls away to reach for the tissues strategically placed behind the couch, in his reach.

You sit up and take one from his hand before you blow your nose. Aizawa tells you good job, merely to make you smile and he succeeds. You throw the used tissues towards the coffee table and none of you says anything as you miss.

“He was supposed to be here. We were supposed to go to his Mom’s. I was supposed to be making the food with her,” you’re crying again, fidgeting with your hands. Aizawa’s unsure whether or not he should stay down in case you want to cuddle again for comfort or if he should mirror you and sit up with you.

“I was supposed to find him a grand present. One that would blow his mind completely. Maybe we’d even find one together and surprise him with something. I don’t know, a fucking car or something."

Aizawa snorts and you scoff out a rather pathetic excuse of a laugh at your own joke before you grab onto Aizawa’s shirt. “Probably not a car… you and Yamada would need equally as big presents and I’d be too broke for that.”

Aizawa decides to sit up with you, if the pull on the stomach of his shirt is any indication from you of what you might want. He grabs onto your hands and squeezes. “He’d probably ask for something small, like a new couch cover or something. Or a CD even though no one collects them anymore.”

Aizawa nods and agrees, “or socks. He always wore those socks with holes.”

You throw your head back and laugh truthfully, “that’s right, I’d totally forgotten. God they were so disgusting.”

You lean forward so you’re in Aizawa’s space again and he wraps his arms you, inhaling your scent he’s gotten so accustomed to and which brings him great comfort. He doesn’t have the heart to react too emotionally – if he does, he’s not sure he’d be able to contain the information about Kurogiri that he himself obtained not even a year ago. Him and Yamada had chosen to keep quiet about it to any of Shirakumo’s relatives and loved ones and as much as it pained him to keep it from you as well, the hole Shirakumo’d left in your chest still had a long way to go for healing. He’s confirmed in those thoughts when you start sobbing uncontrollably again, muttering out a muffled, “it should’ve been me.”

Aizawa tightens his grip almost aggressively and firmly denies that. You shake your head, “but he had so much to offer. He was so bright, Shou. He should’ve been here.” The last part is yelled out and while Aizawa’s logical mind has half a mind to mentally apologize to your neighbors, his emotional mind is screaming out in agony at your words. He knows you’re not saying them to hurt him or with any malice, but they sting, nonetheless.

He starts rocking you back and forth in his arms, cooing and kissing you as he desperately fights back tears. A few gets loose and down onto you.

02.05

You’re starting to calm down and Aizawa has succeeded in moving you to the bed. You’re cuddled up to him as you croak out a weak, “I miss him”, hiccupping as you go. Aizawa just replies with a “me too” every time, desperate to wrap up some of your pain and take it from you. He thought you were asleep 12 minutes ago but another thought of Shirakumo had made you sob out again. You’d leant up to kiss Aizawa then, which had triggered the response.

Shirakumo was very much and very obviously in love with you – and you’d been just as painfully in love with him. None of you had ever acted on your emotions but it’d been clear from the first day you met that you’d somehow end up in a Happily-Ever-After kind of situation. Shirakumo had often whispered to Aizawa and Yamada about confessing when his hero career was secure and he’d have something worthwhile to offer you while they’d both tried to encourage him to confess while they were in high school.

But it should never come to pass. The very same week that Shirakumo left the earth he’d started mumbling about confessing after his work studies. Yamada had hyped him up and Aizawa knew that you were going with similar thoughts.

Aizawa clears his throat to stop a sob from escaping and gently, your fingers trace his cheek, cooing back at him as he did to you. With a hoarse voice you’d let out, “it’s going to be okay, Shou. We have each other.”

He nods and this time he’s the one to hide his face in your neck. You coo and let your fingers run through his hair with meaningful whispers returned to him. He calms down faster than you did and kisses you. You kiss him back, “tomorrow we’ll go to the grave before we visit his Mom, right?” you confirm and Aizawa nods while he lets you move stray hairs behind his ear, “good. I’m glad we’re all going this year. She’ll be happy to see you and 'Zashi too.”

He knows she will. She often chastises them both for not coming around as often as you do and makes lots of leftover food they can take home in nicely wrapped Tupperware so they have proper food for their demanding jobs.

You cuddle close to Aizawa and knows you’ve exhausted yourself enough to fall asleep. You seem calm and collected but he knows your body is mostly just tired.

One last time he kisses the top of your head before he mumbles out a goodnight. Tomorrow might not be brighter than today and the loss may feel even greater than it has in years, but so long as he has your hand to hold, he can face tomorrow and support you in his friend's stead.

#bnha x reader #aizawa shouta x reader #aizawa x reader #mha x reader #aizawa shouta angst #bnha angst #i think thats all thentags......#again please heed the warnings thanku<333333 #nohr.writing #nohr.bnha

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roseaesynstylae · 1 year

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First it was Law, then Kid, then Killer. Now it's King. Forgive me, it's just that I'm a sucker for some of the hottest men in manga. On that note, I have some thoughts about King. Warning: My thought processes got dark at points, so I feel that I should state up front that, while not mentioned in detail, there are mentions of incest and rape.

I'm wondering where King is right now. I mean, all seven of the (known) Seraphim, which were made from his DNA, have been revealed. The last we saw him, the newest addition to the "Assholes in the Marines" group had him and Queen restrained, with King being impaled with a vine pretty close to the heart. That in no way means that he's dead; people are insanely durable in One Piece, and Lunarians are explicitly stated to be extremely tough even by that standard. The best case scenario is that he somehow escaped off-screen. Worst case scenario, he's been dragged back to the lab, which is probably the worst fate he can imagine. Regardless, I'm hoping he'll show up again.

I have to wonder what he'd think about the Seraphim. I don't think he'd have a positive opinion. Think about it; he had his DNA taken from him, likely while he was being experimented on as a teenager, and it was used to make super-powerful soldiers for the people who were responsible for wiping out every other member of his race. I doubt he'd be pleased to know that, however indirectly, he's being used for the World Government's gain. And then there's the fact that, given his circumstances, he couldn't have given consent for his genetic matter to be used and the fact that it was subsequently used to make children... Please tell me I'm not the only one who feels like this has a vibe that, depending on your perspective, can be likened to rape or might actually qualify. You know, there's some really dark stuff in One Piece. It's just thinly concealed by the wackiness.

I'm wondering if another Lunarian will show up in the series at some point. Sure, they might be completely gone aside from King, but this is Oda. You never know. I've thought a bit about this. The best option is that there's at least one Lunarian aside from King hiding out in some remote place far from the World Government's reach. The worst case scenario is that they're in a lab, being experimented on. The former is the happiest choice, the latter is the most dramatic choice. Guess which one is most likely to be canon?!

Related to above, I have some ideas about what would happen if there was one more living Lunarian, who's also female. While I imagine that King would be incredibly shocked and likely very happy, it would still mean that there would only be two Lunarians left. That, and even if it isn't brought up, there would be an unspoken implication of "We are literally the last of our kind and we happen to be a male and female pair, which is usually what's required for making children. Hmm." Going deeper into that, I can confidently say that even if King and this hypothetical Lunarian woman end up being compatible and attracted to each other, even if they both want to try to continue their race, even if none of the numerous potential problems that couples run into while conceiving and carrying a child to term occur, even if they have a lot of kids... It would be a short-term solution at best, at least in terms of keeping the Lunarian race alive without getting involved with other races (which is an entire other bucket of worms and filled with concerning implications, but for the purposes of this example, I'm talking about the Lunarian species as opposed to hybrids). Keep in mind, I'm working off of the assumption that King and his hypothetical partner are really the only living Lunarians left. That would mean that, if they had kids, there would be no other Lunarians to continue on with, unless they decided to go down the route of another white-haired, fire-associated, almost gone group: The Taryargens. (This can also be called the "Let's Ignore Taboos and the Westermark Effect Option.") But even assuming that they went that way, it would all be gone in a few generations. Minuscule gene pool + inbreeding = Die slowly due to the disorders and lethal recessives brought on by said inbreeding. This, of course, isn't factoring the offspring marrying and having children with members of other races, but it's worth noting that that healthier, saner, and infinitely less disgusting option would still lead to the Lunarian race going extinct. Their genes would eventually be subsumed by everything else, the hybrids would go on to having an increasingly small percentages of their ancestry be Lunarian, and it would eventually end how you'd expect. I mean, my knowledge of genetics is shaky at best, but even I know this.

Well, the above all got dark and depressing, so let me end by saying that I would describe King in a single word: UMPH. (I think that's what I'm supposed to use.)

#one piece #king one piece #king the wildfire

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murmurmurl · 4 months

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gay people

(not canon btw! none of the ships/labels will be canon :3)

I'm also gonna yap now yipeee

Uhm. Affection!! Wanted to think about how they would express and receive affection. Not only in a romantic context btw, just in general.

Matsu LOVES casual physical affection. He loves hugging people, holding hands with his friends, tackling them, just. Being all over the ones he loves. This also applies to non-physical affection, although a little less. However! He's really not the best when it comes to being on the receiving end of that affection.... Not because he doesn't like it or anything, it's just that his brain short-circuits, and he has no idea how to react. He loves receiving affection from people he trusts and, well, also loves (again, not necessarily romantically). I think the reason for him reacting that way could be that he's only started experiencing this after getting close with everyone in H♡L. Sure, he's been practically best friends with Fumi since ~middle school, but their falling out lasted at least a few years, and in that time Matsu didn't really get all that close with anybody else. Also, he doesn't like being super affectionate with people he isn't close with, or doesn't trust enough, or just isn't comfortable enough.

Toshiro isn't as enthusiastic... but they still like it. They like receiving affection, even if with some complaints (not seriously though) whenever Matsu tackles them. They're a little more reserved, but when he *really* loves someone, he'll stick to them like glue. I think his favorite way to show affection physically is through doing someone's hair. H♡L members often walk around with little braids or some uncharacteristic hairstyles because of that. He isn't very good with words though... but a little better than Matsu, who just. Would like to be able to express his feelings through something more than cutting himself off every 2 seconds because it's absolutely impossible for him to put the vague concept of his emotions into existing words. Toshiro is, indeed, a bit more successful in that, but still prefers quiet physical affection.

Fumi doesn't let herself be very emotionally open and vulnerable. That's what years of repressing and trying to get rid of any possible "weakness" will do. The person she lets to herself the closest is Matsu... she's more used to him and has a giant soft spot, even if she would deny it as much as she can (most of the time). However, Fumi still has ways in which her affection and appreciation towards someone end up being shown. It's pretty casual, and sometimes can seem a little mean, but she's trying her best. They often ruffle Matsu's hair, for example. Though Toshiro gets slightly "harsher" treatment, like very light shoves. Seina manages to escape all of that, though. She's not as close with Fumi as everyone else, but has this effect of calming her down and making her drop the defenses a little. I think over the course of the story Fumi will slowly learn to allow herself to be more vulnerable with people close to her.

Seina. Her affection is the most gentle, I think, but she expresses it more through words and caring for someone, rather than with physical touch. However, since I think I'm kinda focusing on physical affection here, she likes to pet her friends' heads, or dust them off, or just calmly hold their hands or shoulders.

They all also have slightly different ways of expressing affection towards each other that I thought of. Like Matsu tends to tackle Seina less, and more just hug her. With Toshiro he doesn't really hold back, as well as with Fumi. He also likes to try to ruffle Fumi's hair when she does it to him, though... have you seen how short I made him? there's no way that's even remotely easy. Toshiro likes to hug specifically Matsu a lot, but it's more calm than how Matsu himself does it... with Fumi, he often casually puts a hand on her shoulder, which she surprisingly allows. And with Seina, he plays with her hair probably even more than with everybody else's. I think I pretty much described Fumi's ways with everyone..? But something I didn't mention is that she often gives gifts to her friends. Which mostly involves flowers (of clourse)! She's a little embarrassed when doing it most of the time, but it's one of the few visible ways she can allow herself to show her appreciation to someone. Seina likes to do Toshiro's hair back, like he does to everyone, though she isn't really the best at it... they still like it! A lot, actually! She calms Fumi down with surprising ease and likes to allow them to lean onto her and just kinda... hang out like that. With Matsu she gets even more caring and worried than with everyone else, which can look pretty funny.

This might sound strange, seeing as Fumi is clearly the "keeps a tough front and rarely allows herself to show affection" person of the group, but Seina actually has a lot of trouble properly expressing her appreciation, maybe the most out of all of them. She kind of acts almost the same way with everybody, which results in people sometimes thinking she doesn't care enough about them personally. Repressing her own emotions in fear of burdening or upsetting her loved ones with them made it so that she isn't very good at expressing them when she wants to.

I am getting a little off topic? And also tired. Even though I absolutely love rambling about them,,,,, also, I think somewhere later I'll just be dumping all of the lore/details, actually maybe literally everything about Helianthus♡Light! to the side blog, for which!!!!! I still have to draw a few things bc I want it to look cool and pretty,,,,,,

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junietuesday · 6 months

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Hiiii June idk who this is but y’all are working hard so if you’re so inclined I’d love a bit about Jeremy and the SQUIP being friends (going back to my bmc roots with this one….) feel free to get as non canon as you want bc you would need it with this one alskskdjj

vote glenn close and receive a drabble!

“It feels dumb being alone in here,” says Jeremy as he climbs up the steps to the stage. “What if someone sees me?”

“Don’t worry,” says the SQUIP, and its easygoing, chill tone settles Jeremy’s nerves a little. “I’ve hijacked the remote locking system for the auditorium doors. Just focus on those moves.”

Mr. Reyes had inserted a big dance number into A Midsummer’s Nightmare About Zombies. Christine had been distraught: “I love musical reinterpretations as much as the next gal, but this is just spitting on Shakespeare’s vision!” she’d protested, jumping up from her seat. “And this is the fall play. We don’t even have a choreographer or music director or—”

“Those cheap choreographers and music directors the school hires every year don’t comprehend my vision!” Mr. Reyes had declared. “Which is why I will be in charge of this dance number. Now, everyone, out of your seats—first we’ll be starting with your basic jazz square…”

And now here Jeremy is, forced to practice in the theater after hours, because he auditioned for a play and did not think he’d need the coordination to dance. Luckily, he’ll be standing in the back for most of it, but still…

“I’ll play the music in your brain,” says the SQUIP. “Three, two, one—”

“Wait!”

“What?”

“How do I do this without a partner?” Jeremy mumbles.

The SQUIP stays silent for a moment. “Put your hands up like a partner is there,” it tells him at last. “I’ll stimulate your nerve endings to feel pressure where there’s none.”

“…Weird…”

“Quantum nanotechnology,” the SQUIP says. “Now enough delays. Just start dancing. You want to impress Christine during the next rehearsal, don’t you?”

“I do…” But staring out from the empty stage, Jeremy feels his heartbeat pick up. His palms are sweating. He takes a tentative step forward, the beginning of one of those jazz squares Mr. Reyes is obsessed with, and the sound of his sneaker hitting wood echoes through the entire auditorium. “I don’t think I can do this,” he says in a rush. “I can’t dance. I’m gonna look like an idiot.”

“I can flood your brain with serotonin and cut off your adrenaline,” the SQUIP offers cheerfully.

“No! No messing with my feelings!”

If the SQUIP were to materialize itself in Jeremy’s vision right now, he knows it would be rolling its eyes. “Fine, if you want to do it the slow way…” But then its voice softens. “No one’s here, so you don’t need to worry about looking like an idiot. I told you I took care of that already. Would you rather look like a fool at rehearsal tomorrow because you didn’t practice? Or do you want to show up and dazzle Christine with your style? You know what you’re doing. You just need to let your body’s muscle memory catch up with your brain. So start dancing. You can do it.”

“…Okay,” says Jeremy quietly. He takes a deep breath, holds it, and lets it go. “Okay. Start the music.”

#be more chill #bmc #bmc musical #the squip #jeremy heere #stagedorks #asks #june speaks #@thatbeautifulsound #my writing #THANKS FOR THE VOTE! tried to balance the squip being friendly enough to count as jeremy’s friend but still not lose its canon character #entirely. hopefully i succeeded? also i missed writing jeremy. i love him hes just like me fr

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writingsofmax · 2 years

Text

Disarm pt. 8

Words: 3, 247

Story Summary: Edward and Y/N spend more time together as couple, fluff ensues. Edward gets angry at Y/N's apartment issues and comes up with ideas to help.

Tags: slowburn, chronically ill reader, anti-social Edward, canon-typical violence, obsessive thinking, kissing, biting, smut, domestic fluff

warnings: there is some mild smut at the end of this chapter SO if you're not into it don't read past the last breaklineeeee, kissing, biting, marking?? heavy making out...... welcome to my shame corner lol

Chapter 8- Despite All My Rage I'm Still Just A Rat In A Cage

Edward had been a loner before. In the orphanage it was easier to not connect with people at all, so he hadn’t. Once he was out and in college, it's not that he wanted to be alone––it was just that other people didn’t click well with him. He had conversations with others occasionally, tried to pursue some friendships but it had never worked out. Everyone was too stupid. None of them had understood him or his sense of humor. Everything about making friends was agitating and difficult. My coworkers especially, Edward thought with a sneer.

That didn’t stop Edward from feeling lonely though. It wasn’t until Y/N came into his life that he realized how lonely he had truly been. God, he had been so lonely. Edward thought while gently brushing his fingers up and down Y/N’s arm.

“I’ve never heard of a gyroscopic stabilizer until now,” Y/N mentioned, watching the TV.

“They’re used in ships so unless you’re involved in engineering large watercraft, it makes sense that you don’t know what it is,” Edward responded, adjusting the blankets over both of them on the couch.

“Hmm. But you know what they are,” Y/N mused. “You’re so smart Eddie.” She snuggled in closer under Edward’s arm with a little yawn.

Edward’s face felt hot, and he picked lint off the blanket with a shy smile.

“How It’s Made” was one of Edward’s favorite TV shows. Seeing how things were put together and taken apart was always so interesting to him. He didn’t watch TV very often, but this show could always hold his attention for the full 30 minutes it was on.

However, it didn’t seem that it was holding Y/N’s attention. During the commercial break, he picked up the remote and started flipping through the channels.

“Hey, weren’t you watching that, Eddie?” Y/N questioned.

“I’ve already seen this one before,” Edward responded, a small lie, before settling on Planet Earth. It was an episode about freshwater ecosystems so there was a good chance that it would feature otters.

Y/N gave a small gasp and squeezed his arm lightly. “I LOVE this show, it’s so cool!” she gushed. “They get such amazing footage of the animals too, it’s unbelievable.”

Edward gazed upon her fondly and tried not to think too much about how good it felt to have her in his arms. This was how their nights had been going for a little while now.

Either Y/N would come to his house or he would go to her house to watch TV or a movie together. She hadn’t been up for going on as many walks lately since the cold and damp of fall in Gotham made her illness flare. That was fine with Edward though, he was perfectly content to watch over her indoors and do more relaxing activities. Normally, Edward needed a lot of alone time, but lately it was like he couldn’t get enough of Y/N.

For the last two days, she had even been spending the night. It was all very new for Edward but it was so much better than how his life had been before. He had someone to protect, and someone that finally understood him. Those facts alone made it easier to get used to. It was a little unnerving having someone be so close to him after being alone for so long, and all of the physical touch after not having any for years was overwhelming sometimes.

Another thing Edward had noticed fairly quickly was that having someone around him a lot of the time meant that he had to change his routines and his habits and that was… difficult. Hiding all of his Riddler things from her on a regular basis was tricky as well but it was worth it. Over his life, he had learned to do everything alone and also liked to do everything a certain way. His way. The right way. But Y/N understood. They were a perfect match, Edward thought.

“You look sleepy,” Edward murmured into Y/N’s hair after the episode was over, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“Yeah...” Y/N stretched. “Will you come lay down with me?”

“Of course,” Edward responded, immediately.

“Carry meee,” Y/N whined, slowly getting up off the couch.

Without a second thought Edward scooped her up, eliciting a yelp from Y/N.

“E-Eddie I was joking, you don’t actually have to carry me!” She blushed and Edward smirked.

“But I already have you, so there’s no point in putting you down. Besides, what’s the last thing you take off before bed anyway?” Edward giggled to himself while carrying her towards the bedroom. “You take your feet off the floor.”

Setting her down gently on the bed, Edward kissed the tip of her nose. “There.”

“Thank you for that Eddie,” Y/N laughed. “But I need to take my meds,” she said as she got up off the bed.

Edward watched her as she got up and took her overnight bag to the bathroom with her. She’s so beautiful. He was going to be with her no matter the growing pains.

Coming back from the bathroom, Y/N turned off the lights and laid on the bed next to Edward.

“Thanks for letting me stay here, Eddie. I’ve been too freaked out to sleep in my own apartment lately.”

Edward tilted his head. “Freaked out?”

His eyes narrowed. Is someone harassing her? Is her apartment too dangerous? It’s probably one of those thugs that hang out in Robinson Park, looking through her windows, following her… If I went there at night, just out of the streetlights I could easily find them and––

“Oh! I can’t believe I forgot to tell you!” Y/N exclaimed. “Two days ago I saw a rat in my kitchen.” She shook her head with a shiver, making a disgusted face.

“I thought that I had heard chewing a couple times before,” she continued, “but I wasn’t sure—but then I saw him.”

“Did you try to trap it?” Edward asked, carefully hiding his trembling hands in the blankets.

“I think there might be more than one so I called my landlord to hire an exterminator but he’s fighting me on it.” She gave an exasperated sigh. “I just haven’t been able to sleep as well there because I think about them crawling around.”

“Your landlord is fighting you about it? That’s his job is to keep your apartment livable. He can’t just not do it. Rats carry disease. And they multiply like crazy if you don’t take care of it immediately,” Edward ranted. “Do you want me to go over there? I can try to trap them. Or poison them.”

Rats had been a huge problem at the orphanage growing up. Disgusting. Always crawling on you at night, biting at your fingers. The unlucky kids had gotten terrible infections. Y/N reached out to Edward and took his hand, pulling him towards her on the bed. “It’s fine! We can get traps tomorrow, and I’m gonna keep on him about an exterminator. Don’t worry!” She flopped down on the bed. “Just being able to stay here with you for right now is enough.” “Yeah, we’ll go and get traps tomorrow,” Edward sighed while laying down next to her, thinking about how it wasn’t fine at all. With a slight shake of his head, he scooted closer to Y/N, carefully pulling the blankets around her, trying to put the rage out of his mind.

“Do you think you’ll be up for much longer?” Y/N asked.

“Probably… I have a hard time getting to sleep.” Edward played with her hair idly. “I also don’t need as much sleep as you do.”

“Hmm... Well, will you stay here with me until I fall asleep?” Y/N sleepily asked.

Y/N, I would kill for you if you asked me to. “Yes, of course,” Edward replied.

After about an hour, Edward quietly left the room, slowly closing the bedroom door behind him after Y/N had fallen asleep. Walking back out to the living room, he sat at his desk. Rats. He pulled a notebook from above his desk and flipped open to a blank page and began writing. Rats. Rats. Rats. Disgusting filthy creatures, crawling around Y/N’s apartment. Spreading their germs everywhere. Edward shuddered. And to hear from Y/N that her landlord wasn’t even taking care of it! Typical greedy scum… Collecting obscene amounts of rent for their apartments while doing nothing to maintain them. No better than rats themselves. An idea flitted across Edward’s mind. If her landlord was going to act like a rat, then he could be treated like one. Maybe have a little rat poison shoved down his throat. No. Edward shook his head. Y/N is too close to all of this already. Her landlord would be a direct link.

He had started to regret having Y/N help him compile information on the Renewal Fund, or even telling her about it. When his plan went into action he didn’t want her to be implicated. Killing her landlord would cause her to be even more suspicious to the police for sure. It was a conflicting feeling, hiding so much of himself from Y/N. He wanted so badly to tell her, but he also wanted to keep her safe. And right now he couldn’t even keep her safe from her scummy landlord. Edward was furious. He… No––The Riddler wanted to kill her landlord. Y/N needed to be protected, but that meant keeping the focus off of her. He gritted his teeth, pushing his pen harder into the paper, almost ripping it while continuing to write.

They all had it coming, and maybe in the carnage that was to come in the next few weeks, he could have one of his followers target her landlord in the chaos. Rats.

He could feel the ghosts of them crawling on him, chewing his fingers. He thought of all the nights he had spent in the orphanage after they had been forgotten about, listening to them scurry around in the dark. Y/N’s words echoed in his head, “You deserved better.” She was right––He had deserved better, they all had. The disgusting Gotham billionaires, the corrupt politicians, the liars and the sinners… They deserved to be chewed on by rats. Edward sat back in his chair. Chewed on… He pushed his glasses up, brow furrowed. By rats… Edward giggled. Now there’s an idea. He flipped to a new page and began drawing. —-------------------------------

Y/N wearily opened her eyes, looking around in confusion before remembering she was at Edward’s. She rolled over, and stretched, getting comfortable to try to go back to sleep. Stretching her arms out, she realized with a sinking feeling that the opposite side of the bed was still empty. With a glance she checked the glowing red alarm clock above the bed. 3:27 A.M? Where is Eddie?

Slowly getting out of bed and rubbing the sleep from her eyes she tried to push away her anxious thoughts to no avail. Did he accidentally get locked out of the apartment somehow? Did he fall and hit his head? Did he... Did he leave me here? She shook her head, padding down the hallway and feeling foolish when she saw a light still on at the end of the hall. Eddie would never leave you. Calm down. Y/N squinted at the light and saw that Edward was seated at his desk, still awake, working intensely on something. “Eddie?” Edward sat up suddenly, closing the notebook he had been writing in, turning around. “Hm? Y/N? What…” He seemed out of it, his green eyes glazed over, “What are you… Um.” He faltered, pushing his chair out from the desk. “What are you doing up?” He had ink smeared on his hands and forearms, and his hair was messy and wild. Y/N had noticed that Edward got like this sometimes. She had first noticed it early on when they would talk about the corruption in Gotham. His tone would become so vicious and frantic, and when she looked into his eyes it seemed that he was somewhere far away. That he wasn’t quite there with her completely.

It happened during other times too, when he would talk about the orphanage, or sometimes when he was writing in his work ledgers. It was like the real Edward retreated, and a more wild version of him would take his place. After these… episodes, it seemed like it usually took him awhile to come back. She had never felt the need to ask him about it or comment on it. She just tried to be there for him as best she could. After hearing about his childhood, she couldn’t imagine the horrors he had witnessed. It didn’t surprise her that he had some struggles with mental health. Y/N tenderly reached out to Edward, closing the distance between them in a hug. “I just woke up and realized that you weren’t in bed yet so I came to check on you.”

She felt Edward shaking slightly under her touch. “It’s 3 in the morning Eddie, you should come to bed,” she suggested cautiously. Edward shivered and let out a sigh, relaxing slightly. “Didn’t realize it was so early.” He reached up and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, let’s go to bed.”

Y/N smiled, looking up at him. Even sleep deprived and messy, he was still so handsome, Y/N thought.

She gently led him back to the bedroom, “What were you working on?” She asked curiously. “Just work stuff,” Edward responded, pulling back the covers for her to get in. “They should pay you more for all the extra hours you put in Eddie,” Y/N commented, snuggling down back into the blankets. “They definitely should,” Edward responded sleepily, climbing into the bed after her. “Goodnight, Eddie,” Y/N sighed, kissing him on the cheek before turning away to sleep. Edward wrapped his arms around Y/N and with a strong tug, pulled her back over to him making Y/N giggle. “Good night, Y/N.”

—------------------------------------------

The sun was bright coming through the blinds of Edward’s room. He rubbed his eyes, slowly recognizing the sound of the traffic outside. The sunlight coming through the window and onto the bed was making him too warm under the covers. With a frustrated grunt, he kicked the covers off of him and––Oh.

Edward was definitely awake now.

Pulling the covers back over… himself, he glanced nervously over at Y/N who was just starting to wake up. “Hey, Eddie,” Y/N mumbled with a tired smile, pulling herself to him. Edward stiffened and could feel his face getting hot. “G-Good morning, Y/N!” Edward replied a bit too loudly, scratching his neck. “Did you sleep well?” “Mmmhmmm,” Y/N sighed, sitting up and kissing Edward softly. Edward internally groaned, feeling the heat rush to his cock. He started to pull away, planning to get up and hop in the shower before she could notice, but then Y/N pulled him back into the kiss, deepening it. Before Edward could fully react, Y/N straddled him, sitting on top of him as she kissed him.

He groaned, feeling his cock pressed against Y/N, the friction setting him on fire.

Oh no. Is this too far? He didn’t want to make Y/N uncomfortable and really wasn’t sure what to do, having never been in this situation before.

He was contemplating pushing her off and profusely apologizing when he heard Y/N moan. Y/N was actually moaning from the feeling of him against her. Edward cautiously shifted his hips under her, pushing himself up between her legs, watching her reaction closely. This action elicited another moan from Y/N.

Edward felt pride wash over him. He couldn’t help but relish in the feeling of power that Y/N’s moans gave him. He grabbed her hips and pulled her down on top of him, moving his attentions to her neck. Y/N is mine. Only I can make her feel like this. He bit down, gently at first, sucking and pulling at the skin with his teeth. He felt Y/N’s breath hitch before she let out a needy whine.

He smiled and in a quick movement, pulled her off him and then carefully adjusted his position so Y/N was underneath him now, her face hot and red. He loved the way she looked and loved even more that it was because of him. He grinded against her more roughly this time, the friction driving him insane. She clutched at his back tightly, moaning softly with each thrust, Edward kissing her deeply on the lips. God, I love her so much. He thought, before moving back to her neck, biting roughly this time, making sure to leave marks. Y/N is mine and only mine. Y/N moaned loudly, her hands gripping the back of his shirt tightly. “Ed-Eddie,” she gasped. Edward stopped, pushing himself up to look down at her properly, “Y-Yeah?” he asked, a little breathless himself. Oh no. I went too far, shit. Is she okay?

“Am––Am I being too loud?” Y/N blushed deeply, looking away from him. “I’m sorry if I’m being too loud.” Edward looked down at her for a beat, giving his brain a moment to catch up. “What? Too loud?” He giggled at the absurdity of her apologizing, “That’s ridiculous.” He loved her noises. “Are, um...” Edward started, suddenly feeling awkward. “Are you okay?” Y/N giggled. “Oh, I’m definitely okay,” she answered. Edward smirked. “You sounded okay,” he teased, leaning down and kissing her neck once more. This touching stuff was great. He desperately wanted to explore and investigate all of it more thoroughly, he thought, moving down her neck. He was interrupted by a loud growl from Y/N’s stomach.

Y/N gave an embarrassed laugh and held her face in her hands. “I am kind of hungry though…” She peeked at Edward through her fingers. “I’m so sorry!” she gushed. Edward giggled and rolled off of her, sitting up on the side of the bed. “Well, I guess I should go get you some breakfast then!” Yes, he had wanted to continue. Obviously. But Y/N came first––He was her protector after all.

“Is it okay if I shower quickly first?” Edward asked nonchalantly. “Before I head to the diner?”

Y/N slowly started getting up as well. “Of course!”

Okay, good. He could take care of… his needs before heading out. That was something he was used to doing.

“Okay, baby, think of what you want and I’ll get your order before I go.” Edward froze when he realized what he had said and winced internally. Baby? Where did that come from?

Y/N looked at him with wide eyes and then smiled warmly. “I will.”

Edward just nodded, his face warm, and then headed to the bathroom, closing the door behind him. He stood there for a minute, just composing himself. Looking in the mirror he ruffled his hands through his hair, thinking about all that just transpired and had to bite back excited laughter.

He never knew that his life could be so perfect. Previous Next

#riddler smut #dano!riddler #the riddler fanfiction #the riddler #riddler x reader #danocel #danonation #edward nashton x reader #edward nashton x you #riddler x you #riddler fluff #riddler fanfic #edward nashton fanfiction #edward nashton #edward nashton x y/n #edward nashton fluff #paul dano

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