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melohax · 3 years

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I’ve seen some people who finished Omori talking about how they don’t understand the game’s plot, what happens in the good ending or why the protagonist even decided to change his ways. So then, here’s my thoughts on Omori’s story.

Warning: SPOILERS AHOY. Only read this if you’ve already finished the game and seen the good or true ending. Or if you don’t plan on playing the game at all but still want to know the whole story.

I’ve seen some people around the internet talk about how Sunny’s character isn’t clear to them or how they feel Sunny doesn’t deserve a good ending. Here’s some thoughts I have on why I think Sunny’s growth was well depicted.

There’s two main routes you can go through in the game: the “Reality” route and the “Hikikomori” route.

In the “Hikikomori” route, Sunny stays in Headspace forever and we get to learn many additional details about him. Sunny’s parents are implied to have known what Sunny did to Mari all along. It’s also implied that Sunny’s mother covered the whole thing up and chose to present it as a suicide as well cus, in her own words, she can’t bear the thought of losing both of her kids.

Sunny’s mother insinuates her son isn’t a “good boy” even though she begs him to be good but she still sees him as her little boy (as seen by the overly-sweet and positive messages she leaves around the house and her voice mails) and needs him alive so she can survive her own grief. Sunny’s father is shown cutting down the hanging tree and telling Sunny he isn’t his son, presumably disowning Sunny. The father keeps being absent forever afterwards.

Fast forward to the present and the “Reality” route, Sunny’s moving in 3 days. He knows his time is up in the real world and the biggest catalyst for his personal growth is that he’s finally seeing his old friends in the REAL world after 4 years of only seeing their loving, idealized child version in dreams. For the first time, he gets to witness the collateral consequences of what he did to Mari in his now teenaged friends: Aubrey spirals into delinquency after feeling like she was thrown aside by everyone she loved. Hero is guilt ridden, can’t even go near Mari’s grave and gives up on his dreams of being a chef. Kel wants to make things better but feels powerless, useless and like a screwup. Basil lives in a miserable state of almost constant fear and psychosis.

Sunny finally gets to see the huge toll his lie took on his friends’ entire lives as they keep blaming themselves for not knowing about Mari’s supposed suicidal ideations. He’s finally forced to face reality and he still tries to hide in dreamworld but he can’t. The inhabitants of Headspace are all people or fictional characters he knows or likes in real life (that he changed in his dreams, like how Kim’s brother is a sweet gentle giant and Sweetheart looks just like the candy shop owner at the supermarket) and their quests end up leading him to events where he’s reminded over and over again his dreams will end soon (the end of the underwater highway, the tree near the whale, the shadows of Mari and Basil) and that he needs to delve into Blackspace.

This shows how his own subconscious mind knows well what needs to be done; he’s putting the mental and emotional effort of making himself face what he’s done, shown through the contrast between the whimsical nature of Headspace and the dark surrealism of Blackspace.

As this happens in Sunny’s psyche, in the real world he can try to “atone” a bit by doing good things for his little community like completing requests people around him have. He still has a lot of trouble being near Basil in the real world but considering his entire subconscious mainly revolves around finding and rescuing Basil, he wants and needs to face Basil sincerely before he runs out of time.

We’re shown through memories that Sunny’s personality was always quiet, wary, a bit distant and very bad at dealing with pressure. Some people even describe him as cowardly or mediocre but he was just a small kid who’s entire world ended when he was 12. Since then, he never left his house, spending most of his days asleep rather than awake. It’s no wonder his personality isn’t as developed as his friends. His friends, although they were also in immense pain, at least still continued to live beyond Mari’s death. Sunny didn’t. He only lived through sleep.

Subconsciously, it’s shown Sunny both loves and hates Basil. This is seen in Blackspace with the dialogue he has with the “strangers” walking in the void. They talk about how Sunny (as Omori) does horrible things to Basil in the darkness of Blackspace because he struggles with facing the truth of his own actions. It’s also revealed through datamine of Blackspace’s metaphorical photo album that Basil, in his attempts to save Sunny from the judgement of others and to get him to come out of catatonia, was the one who come up with the plan to hang Mari.

Sunny describes Mari as looking as if calmly asleep when he drags her up the stairs. Her eyes remained peacefully closed until Sunny and Basil hung her. Then, Sunny turned back to look at Mari’s corpse, her previously closed eyes were wide open. She might have even been still alive, might have opened her eyes during or after the noose was tied to her neck. Or the belief he saw her eyes open could have been a manifestation of Sunny’s guilt, instead.

Either way, the horrifying possibilities surrounding Mari’s death lead to Sunny handling his emotional pain by subconsciously taking it out on Basil. It’s why Basil in Blackspace is shown constantly suffering and dying in many different ways. It’s the only way Sunny has been able to deal with himself; by forcing Basil into the darkest corners of his mind, his perfect colorful dreamworld can’t be ruined by the ugly reality Basil’s mere presence represents. It’s less painful to try to forget Basil and to forever blame him for both of their sins.

Still, even with all these conflicted feelings, Sunny’s tried to come to terms with love he still feels for Basil many times before. The shadows point out how this isn’t the first time he’s tried to save the Flower Boy; how all the previous times before ended in Sunny failing to find redemption and so his mind turns back to torturing the Basil of his dreams instead.

However, one of the Blackspace shadows also mentions a very important detail that changes almost everything this time around: his time is almost up in the real world. Whether this means he’ll commit suicide or move away, it’s almost time for him to leave the friends he’s always loved so much behind.

Sunny is forced to do a lot of internal work and self-reflection in what little time he has left. It’s shown through his dream actions, the surreal imagery surrounding him and the characters with all the sub plots his subconscious makes up.

In the route to the good ending, he traverses Blackspace and manages to listen to every harsh truth Basil’s shadow has to tell him. His attempts to save Basil mean he’s fighting his own mind, forcing himself to accept the truth.

To achieve redemption for his greatest mistake, Sunny needs to start with accepting Basil entirely; he has to stop making Basil take the brunt of their combined regrets. It means being willing to finally face the REAL Basil instead of permanently burying him in the most painful place within Sunny’s mind.

So basically, it’s obvious to me that Sunny is forced out of his “comfortable” hikikomori misery the moment he opens the door to meet the REAL Kel.

Sunny and Basil have a confrontation in the real world. When Sunny entera Basil’s room, we see poor Basil suicidal and at his limit. He’s clearly in the throes of a psychotic episode and at the mercy of hallucinations and delusions he can’t escape from (“There’s no way out of this is there, Sunny?”). Basil attacks you in an attempt to save you by killing the “thing behind you” but as we know, there isn’t actually something behind you.

There was never any monster to take the blame for Basil’s regrets, nor yours. It’s always been just you.

Meanwhile, Sunny is trying his best not to completely lose his shit so he can save Basil and stop him from potentially killing the both of them. Sunny likely loses an eye in the fight, shown by the blood coming from your socket and the bandage over it in the hospital.

Incidentally, the eye you lose is on the same side as the eye that can be seen peeking through the hair of Mari’s face as she’s hanging from the tree.

In the good ending, the song at the end talks about how even after confessing the truth, Sunny is alone once again, so it’s not actually clear if Aubrey, Kel and Hero actually forgave him. I feel like this is deliberately left up to interpretation by the writers. The lyrics then continue on to say Sunny still finds it hard to wake up, still finds himself plagued some days with lingering regret, but that he still tries to take it all one step at a time to carry on living.

With the song’s lyrics in mind, the end scene that shows Basil and Sunny smiling at each other while Mari’s shadow leaves them doesn’t mean they’re completely fine all of a sudden. Whether their friends forgave them or not, they at least finally have the relief of honesty. The burden of their unbearable shared secret is now off their shoulders. It’s finally out in the open, which means they both can now start healing and working to find the redemption Sunny was looking for in Blackspace. It also means they can go back to loving each other again without the crushing pain they both felt in each other’s presence.

I agree that Aubrey and the gang get pretty left out in the good ending, though. I wish there was more of them and their reactions to the truth BUT I think it’s sadly a deliberate choice by the writers to leave their reaction up to the player’s interpretation. This can feel extremely unfulfilling to many people (me included, I hate when authors do that tbh) but also to many others that’s a good thing cus they get to apply their own personal meaning and feelings.

I personally feel like the friends forgiving Sunny and Basil right off the bat would be incredibly unrealistic. I think they would need a lot of time (especially Aubrey) for them to forgive the lie that wrecked their lives for years. Forgiveness isn’t impossible but it would probably come in the form of a slow, difficult, heartbreaking process. Bittersweet.

Redemption isn’t just about forgiveness, anyway.

Even if a person is never forgiven by the people they’ve hurt, they can still find redemption for their actions through doing good for the people around them and the world at large. An example of this is shown through what Sunny can do on his last days in his neighborhood. The gratitude and additional flowers he receives in the hospital from each person he’s helped are proof he can still do good for others even after something as horrible and unforgivable as accidental murder. In a way, it’s proof that his life is still worth living.

But ultimately that’s just my own interpretation of the ending and I understand other people would interpret it all differently. Some see forgiveness as a given in the story while there’s also others who think Sunny doesn’t deserve forgiveness or those who think Sunny is a sociopath/psychopath or that Basil is the true villain of the game. I think this is why the ending was left so open, to favor all the different interpretations people have of it.

ETA: Here’s a different take on Sunny’s parents. This post argues that, despite the initial implications, they actually didn’t know about the attempted coverup. It’s a really good writeup explaining the whys and hows and has me reconsidering that part of the story!

https://www.reddit.com/r/OMORI/comments/kr9nvx/major_spoilers_regarding_sunny_his_parents_and/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf

#omori #omori game #omori sunny #omori basil #omori spoilers #spoilers #i said id wait before doing a post like this lol #but here i am #omori meta

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amelinksanatomy · 3 years

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Everything’s A Mess (Ch 5)

A/N: Let me know what you’d like to see included in this story!

A few hours had passed.

Amelia had been admitted into her own room for monitoring since she was showing signs of dehydration, in addition to the kidney infection. They had started her on IV antibiotics and fluids after confirming her diagnosis.

Link was sat in the chair beside her bed, having not left her side the whole time. He’d barely said a word but, he hadn't left her side.

Amelia had spent the better part of the last two hours sleeping, now that her pain was beginning to subside. She also knew Link would want to talk about the pregnancy if she was awake but, she just needed a minute to process her new thoughts and feelings.

Unfortunately, her nap came to an end when Carina walked through the door, ultrasound machine in tow.

“Sorry, I can come back if you want?” she asked quietly, realising she’d just woken the neurosurgeon up, “No, you’re fine.”

Carina moved to the side of Amelia’s bed, offering her a smile, “I just wanted to do a more in depth ultrasound, if that’s okay?”. Amelia nods reluctantly, making sure to not look in Link’s direction as she carefully rolls the hospital gown up to expose her pale stomach.

Amelia shivers as Carina squeezes the cold gel onto her skin and places the probe over it. The OB’s attention turns to the screen as she moves the instrument around Amelia’s stomach, causing her to wince as Carina presses the probe into a tender spot.

“Okay so, it seems like you’re about 11 weeks and 3 days pregnant.” Carina smiles, “Fetal development looks good and right where it should be for this point.”

She presses a key on the monitor and the sound of a heartbeat fills the previously silent room. Amelia senses Link’s eyes on her but, keeps her focus on the screen as a familiar feeling rises in her chest and her vision blurs a little.

“Heartbeat sounds good, too.” Carina announces, removing the probe from Amelia’s stomach and gently wiping the gel from it. Amelia quickly rolls the hospital gown back down and watches as Carina places a ultrasound print down on the table next to her before leaving the room with a smile.

The room descends into silence once again. Amelia lays her head back into the pillow, her hands interlocked over her stomach as she tries to not let her emotions and hormones overtake her. She heard Link’s breath change and she knew what was coming.

“So.” he starts, breaking the silence, “Are we going to talk about this or keep avoiding it forever?”

Amelia rolls her eyes and reluctantly tilts her head to look at him, waiting for him to continue but, he doesn't, not right away. Another minute passes before the silence is broken again.

“Are you keeping it?” Link asks, pretty bluntly as if he’s been waiting to ask it all night. Amelia doesn't say anything, a little stunned by the sudden question.

“Amelia?” he speaks again, trying to pull her attention back, “Are you keeping the pregnancy?”

“Link I-”

“So, that’s a no then?” he asks, leaning forward in his chair.

Amelia sighs heavily, pressing the button to sit the hospital bed up slightly before looking at him once more, ready to get this conversation over with, “When I found out, I immediately knew I couldn't keep it. I just didn't think I had it in me to bring another child into this world. So, I made an appointment and I was gonna tell you before it.” Amelia starts. Links eyebrows raise and his mouth opens ready to speak, “But, then uhm, last night; I was cuddling in bed with Scout before bedtime, he’d been really clingy the last couple days and he was snuggled into me. He suddenly starting talking about having a baby. It threw me off because, obviously, I hadn't told him but it was almost like he knew? Which sounds crazy but apparently, kids can sense that kind of stuff... Anyway, I saw the look on his face and it was just pure joy. It did make me think and I wasn't so sure about my decision anymore.”

“Then when I woke up to all that pain in my stomach and my immediate thought was that I was-” Amelia sniffles, the overwhelming hormones beginning to get to her, “I thought that I was losing the baby and suddenly, I wasn't the one making the decision anymore. It felt out of my control and it scared me, a lot. Once I knew I wasn't miscarrying... All I've been able to think about for the last few hours is almost having that decision taken away from me and now, I think- I think I might want to do this.”

Amelia scans Link’s face, waiting for some kind of reaction but can't seem to read his expression.

“I know it’s going to be hard but, there's enough support around me that I think I can do this.” she wipes a stray tear from her cheek, running her other hand across her stomach instinctively.

Link gives her a small smile, pulling his chair closer to the side of the bed, “Amelia, you know I'm going to be right here. Whatever I can do to help, I’ll do it. We can do this, together.”

Amelia looks back at him as he reaches across to take hold of her free hand before continuing, “We can work through this. I know I messed up when I stopped checking in while you were going through something, I’m sorry I wasn't giving you the support you needed. I can be better. I want us to work through this.”

Amelia looks down at their hands and sighs, slowly pulling hers back and placing it on top of her other. She swallows hard, looking back at him as his face drops, “You don't need to do that, Link.”

Link gives her a questioning look, unsure what she was trying to say.

“I don't want you to come back to me just because I’m pregnant. You left for a reason. You left because we didn't want the same things. I still don't want to get married, that hasn't changed. If we’re going to work, I want us to work because we want to be together not because I’m pregnant and you think it’s the right thing to do.”

“Amelia, that’s not-” Link defends quickly before Amelia cuts him off.

“It’s just... I know you’ve always said that you wouldn't want to put your kid through what you went through with your parents so, right now in the back of my mind, I can't help but consider that you only want to try because...” Amelia’s voice trails off as she sees the look on Link’s face, “I’m only bringing it up because last time; you were the one holding my hair back while I was throwing up everyday, you were the one experiencing the first kicks with me, you were the one I got to share all the excitement with and then just like that, you weren't sure if you wanted to be with me anymore if the baby hadn't been yours. So, I can't help but be a little wary, Link and I’m sorry if that upsets you but I’m just trying to protect myself.”

Amelia watches as Link looks down at his hands, fiddling with his fingers and bites her lip, feeling a little bad.

“I mean, come on; hasn't the thought ever crossed your mind?” Amelia looks down at her hands where they rest on her stomach, “Would we have even continued a relationship if I hadn't gotten pregnant with Scout?”

“Yes, Amelia.” Link says without a second of thought, “Because I fell in love with you long before we knew you were pregnant. I wanted you. Baby or no baby.”.

The room falls into silence once again. They both keep their eyes focused on their own hands, secretly willing the other to say something. Amelia sighs, “Look, I know I hurt you and I am sorry. But, right now I need to focus on staying sober and healthy. I need to focus on myself and Scout and this baby. So, I don't want to rush into anything. I think we just need to take everyday as it comes and work on things slowly.”

Link clears his throat, looking up and giving her a weak smile, “If that’s what you want.”

With that, the room descends into silence once more.

#amelink #amelink fanfic #amelink fics #amelink fic #amelink fanfics #amelinkfics #amelinkfanfics #amelia shepherd #Atticus Lincoln #atticus link #amelia shepherd and atticus lincoln #amelia x link #amelia and link #link and amelia #grey's anatomy #greys fics

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someone-always-cares · 3 years

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bonus 2, post chapter 4

first - previous - next

[image description: an sac webcomic page. 5 pages styled in a manner similar to a medical brochure titled “navigating your new abilities, what does this mean for me?”. the brochure is about superpowers, what the are, side effects and health risks, and job oppurtunities. the brochure has white and light blue for the main colours, with a dark purple accent. page 1: mostly showing a girl transforming, with the title listed above, with smaller text reading “created and supported by the paragon institute for superheroism.” the girl is a younger white woman who has a light purple colour scheme, long straight hair and bangs, a crop top, and elbow pads. shes shown from the waist up, half her body and an arm cut out of the photo. her transformation takes the form of dripping black-purple goop spreading, with a starry texture. a similar texture takes up the image background.

page 2: title: what are superpowers?. “Superpower is a term used for superpowered abilities that go beyond the natural abilities and conventional laws of reality. There are little limits to the potential types of abilities that a super powered person may possess.

It is currently unknown what causes superpowered abilities. Despite many theories, the only known way to guarantee superpowers is to inherit them from a parent.

London has the highest percentage of superpowered people in the entire world, in addition to having 42% of all supers in the united kingdom”

next to this text is a grinning woman in pink winking while posing with one hand on her hip, and the other in a fist held up. the woman has long wavy pale pink hair, light brown skin, many freckles, and hot pink eyes. her outfit is a pink dress and gloves, pale pink tattered cape, and a hot pink long sleeved undershirt.

“how do i use and control my abilities? Superpowered people will typically have an innate sense for how to transform and use their abilities,but like any skill it will take time and effort to fully control their abilities.

In some rare cases, a superpowered person may lack control over their powers to the extent where it can cause harm to those around them.

This is most common in those who have inherited their abilities. In these cases the P.I.S offers programs to assist these people in learning control with 24/7 care and supervision. If you or someone you know requires these programs, please call our number or otherwise contact us via our website.

Due to the range of superpowered abilities, there is no one-size-fits-all method of developing control, however, the P.I.S do offer training services, of which you can read more about atwww.pis.uk/pis-services/training

next to this is a teenage superhero, an androgynous boy with a grey colour scheme, smiling slightly, his arm turning into smoke. he has light grey hair and eyes, brown skin and a dark grey bodysuit. he has a grey poncho/cape conbo and gloves, both of which are lined with light grey fleece or fur. his outfit looks as if is was meant for cold weather.

page 3: what are some other symptoms of superpowered abilities? Superpowers are also accompanied by complete transformations, including bodily and outfit transformations. Body transformations will include a change of eye and hair colour, but can also include a wide variety of changes, commonly including changes to eyes, ears, and hands, animal-like features, changes in shape, colour, additional limbs and features, and more.

below that is 5 examples, inside circles with a white border: a close up of an eye, all blue including sclera, the pupil is pale and slit like a cat. next is a close up of a green haired braid. next if also from behind, a red haired person with red wings, the longest feathers of which are white. while the last three arent of any known character, the latter two are wraith, shown from behind, only showing hair and a cape, and part of an arm, and quartz, a close up of his elf-like ear.

Outfit transformations are even more varied in appearance, and will typically be in various shades of the persons 'main' colour. It is common for the outfit to contain additional accessories, tools, and weapons. Electronic devices created from these transformations do not need recharging and if using internet or data, will use the strongest available signal to do so. It is illegal to create, use, or otherwise have in the open, a weapon in public without a registered superhero licence.

The act of transformation will vary from person to person, but will usually involve a bright light, and is likely to reflect the user's powers of their effects. In the case of those inheriting their abilities, they will inherit body traits and transformations from any and all superpowered ancestors.

The effects of a transformation will likely change through a superpowered person's lifetime. A change will usually happen after a dramatic change in the person's personality, ideals, traumatic incident, or other life development, although a change is not guaranteed, and will rarely occur without these.

The first transformation will usually be the simplest aesthetically both in outfit and body, with simple details, but will usually get more complicated, and it's likely to gain more body transformations as more changes happen. A superpowered person may experience 1-2 changes every 10 years.

Objects and outfits created via transformation will dissipate upon detransformation, regardless of if it is removed from the person. The same goes for additional limbs and features that do not exist on the original body, although these injuries are permanent, unlike clothes and objects which will reform upon transformation.

page 4: other known possibilities of transformations:

- Partial changes to a transformation may occur in the event of permanent injury, such as gaining a prosthetic after losing a limb, but nothing else in the outfit changes.

-It is possible for a transformation's change to be affected by other superpowered persons. This is commonly shown by similarities in outfit transformations, as elements of the superpowered persons apperance change to resemble each other.

-Changes in colour are extremely rare and usually only occur in small aspects

other changes and risks: Some changes are permanent and may not disappear when a superpowered person detransforms.

-Reproductive changes: Any biological offspring will have the exact same powers as the parent. However, pregnancy will be risky, and have a high rate of failure, especially if the mother does not have any superpowered abilities.

-Dreams: While there is no known reason for this occurrence, supers will rarely be able to remember their dreams, except those with dream related abilities or legacy supers. However, despite this the people in question will usually be experiencing nightmares, and superpowered people are at high risk for night terrors and sleep terror disorder.

-A superpowered person's body will adapt to their powers and it is extremely unlikely for one to be harmed by their own power, but this may result in permanent changes that may cause inconvenience in daily life. If this is something you or a loved one experience, please inform your GP

-Overuse of powers: While powers appear to be adapted to not cause harm to the user, overuse of powers can result in a large amount of pain and possible long term damage

below that is an image of two people, on looking like a doctor, a pale man with dull brown hair and dull green eyes, dressed as a doctor and smiling with a clipboard, looking at a person shown from behind, with long mint hair.

page 5: what does this mean for me?

Discovering and controlling your abilities is often the first step one may take inbecoming a superhero. Here at the P.I.S we offer many pathways to doing so,including all required training, courses, and experiences.

We also acknowledge that some super powered people do not seek to become asuperhero, but the P.I.S still has a place for them! We offer many career pathsand courses for almost any job and our career advisors can match up the perfectpower-job combinations to give you a leg up if you are interested in using yourabilities in your career. For more information, visit jobs.pis.uk

Use of powers in a job, or to otherwise earn money using superpowered abilities,without a license is a serious offence that can result in fines starting from £5000,and a potential ban from working in that field.

below is the superhero arrow, grinning at a woman in a plain looking suit. he has one hand on his hip and the other is shaking hands with the woman. the women has red hair and eyes, and pointy red nails.

Due to the nature of superpowered abilities, it is important to gettailored advice and support for affected individuals.For more information call us at our support helpline at 020 7946 0xxx. Both our lines are open from 8:30am-10pm mon-fri and 9:30am-9pm sat.You can also visit our website for more resources at pis.uk/resources. end id]

sorry for last weeks lack of update, irl stuff is happening too much and too fast

anyway heres something ive wanted to do for a while, a pamphlet thats kinda medical style? it seemed like it would be fun and i wanted an excuse to try something new and im always down to infodump (affectionate) about my ocs

however im half asleep, ive already delayed an update for a week, and im a little stressed so i didnt get a proper proofread so sorry if theres any typo or if i left a placeholder in ill get it later if i see any late

edit: did i really forget to fucking finish the fake phone number at the end? anyway sometimes fake phone numbers are reserved for tv and stuff if a phone number is needed, thats the one used for london fake numbers, i just forgot to finish it until i went back to write the id there

#someone always cares #sac #webcomic #lore #worldbuilding #im nervous to post bc i was like. is this to self indulgent? will people like it?#and then i was like bro.#its my fucking webcomic OF COURSE its self indulgent that half the fucking point #some of this is stuff ive rambled lots to friends but realised oh it just hasnt come up in comic so here it is i guess #im hoping this is readable bc i can read it fine on my phone

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iliveiloveiwrite · 3 years

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Long Lost Love // Part One (D.M.)

Summary: Two piles of twelve letters, hidden away in the bottom of a trunk, browning with age. Twenty-four letters in total, all addressed to him.

A/N: This is my entry into @teheharrypotter‘s two weeks of angst! I just really want to take a moment and say that I am so proud of this fic and how it has come out, like ridiculously proud of it. I would really appreciate some feedback on this - reblogs and comments are so important. There is going to be a second part where all the love letters will be compiled into one long post. However, I think not giving too much away only adds to the suspense and angst. Also, the ending... I love it and I think you’ll all hate me for it.

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader

Warnings: this is a lot of angst combined with hurt/comfort but there’s a lot of growth in Draco (I think?)

Word count: 5.4k

It had been fifteen years since the end of the second wizarding war; it had been fifteen years of healing and working on himself, of repenting for his family’s crimes during the war. Draco Malfoy had aged in that time; his hair had grown past his shoulders, tied back with a black leather hair tie, and there were lines on his face that had not been there when he was an eighteen year old running away from the castle he classed as his home.

He had lived a lifetime in those fifteen years. He had seen the world before training as a Healer; working his way up the ranks to become head of the emergency department of the only wizarding hospital within Britain. He had trained Healer after Healer; many of them going off to establish clinics in their own community, all of them sending cards at Christmas, regaling him of their successes.

Draco had lived a lifetime. He lost his father first. Lucius had never truly recovered from his time in Azkaban, and though Draco had tried his hardest to form some semblance of a relationship with his father, Lucius had remained cruel until the end. Truthfully, Draco doesn’t want to think about what it was that killed him in the end. Whether it was the spite that had poisoned him for years, or whether it was something else. Draco doesn’t dwell on it; instead, he leaves white roses on his father’s grave every Sunday like any loving son would.

Narcissa hadn’t lasted long after Lucius passed. She had been distraught. Whilst Lucius was not a doting father, he was a doting husband and he adored Narcissa until his very last breath on this earth. To Draco, her tears started that day and didn’t stop until she passed away in her asleep. Her heart, the coroner said. She had died of a broken heart.

A feeling Draco knew only too well.

Despite achieving so much and traveling so far, he had only ever been in love once. There had only ever been one moment in his whole life that had been filled with the kind of love read about in books, sang about in songs, and played out in films. Draco had fallen in love with you when he was sixteen years old and entering what would be the darkest period of his life. To him, you had been the light in the dark. The answer to his constantly asked question: will there ever be a happy ending?

Nothing had ever happened; nothing could happen. You were the epitome of goodness; the very incarnate of its definition, and he… he was the opposite. In those days, his self-hatred ran so deep that he would argue he was the Hades of the story. Doomed forever to the underworld only to fall in love with the Goddess of Spring and hope for retribution that would never come.

However, in this version of their well-told myth, Hades and Persephone never fall into a relationship. In this version of events, feelings were known and reciprocated, but letters that pleaded for a chance either never arrived or were never answered.

So for fifteen years, Draco Malfoy has been working hard on repairing his family’s tattered reputation whilst coping with the depth-defying grief that comes with losing both parents within the span of a year as well as never truly dealing with the heart wrenching grief that accompanies a relationship that was never given the chance to bloom.

--------

It was a bright, clear day in the middle of March when Draco decided to clean out the attic. He had woken with the urge to clean; with the urge to organise his life and start to work through the piles of his parent’s belongings. He hadn’t been able to touch them in the beginning; the most he had been able to do was relocate everything to the attic and then shove the very thought to the back of his mind where it began to fester like an open wound.

Bright and clear was the day when Draco chose to enter the long forgotten attic in the Manor. Bright and clear was the day when he had to hold a handkerchief to his face to stave off the inevitable sneezes from the dust floating in the air.

Looking around the old and dusty attic, Draco takes in the first of the mess. Trunks line the wall; some ancient – locks worn down with time, almost rusted from their exile to the attic; others are much newer such as his parent’s belongings. Their trunks remain almost new; their initials still painted onto the lids in bright gold paint.

The majority of the morning is spent creating two piles; one to be thrown away, one to be donated. Expensive gowns and suits were to be donated. Anything that reminded Draco of his allegiance in the Second Wizarding War was to be thrown.

As he goes through the belongings of not just his parent’s, but also his grandparents, Draco begins to feel conflicted. With each addition to the bin pile, he feels lighter, he feels one less burden. However, he cannot help the guilt that unfurls in his stomach as he thinks of his mother’s kind face and her forever painted red lip.

By the time Draco makes it to his mother’s final trunk, he feels as if he has been in battle once more. Weariness hangs heavy over in shoulders, settling in his bones. His body slumped, not just from the tiredness from lifting heavy trunks and boxes, but from the emotional weight of memories freshly unleashed upon him.

Draco’s movements are slower as he opens the lid to this final trunk. He thinks back to the day he filled it; piling his mother’s correspondence and personal effects in here – separate from the clothes he knew he would one day get rid of. He slides his hands over the emerald green lid – a Slytherin till the day she died, Draco thinks as he smiles to himself.

At some point, he lets a few tears fall. It’s the sight of Narcissa’s handwriting, he realises. He hadn’t seen it in so long – not having received a birthday card or a Christmas present this year due to her death. Seeing her strong cursive brought tears to his eyes; he remembers being a child, sitting by her desk, watching her write away and wondering who on earth she could be talking to. If Draco focuses hard enough, he swears he can still smell the fresh ink drying on the parchment and the melted wax being pressed with Narcissa’s signet ring.

At the bottom of the trunk, Draco notices a latch. Frowning, he flips it open to reveal a false bottom hidden away. Uneasiness spreads through him, turning his stomach to lead as he reaches inside to feel two distinct piles.

The uneasiness turns to heavy anguish when Draco realises just what he is holding in his hands.

------

Two piles of twelve letters, hidden away in the bottom of a trunk, browning with age.

Twenty-four letters in total, all addressed to him.

They now sit on his kitchen counter; the ageing paper a stark contrast to the obsidian black of his counter top. Draco leans back in his chair, huffing out a long sigh, running a hand down his face as he does so. It had been fifteen years, but he would recognise your handwriting anywhere.

It had been fifteen years and he hadn’t had any contact with you. He wondered for so long why his letters had gone unanswered to the point where he stopped writing altogether, feeling the keen sting of rejection.

Fifteen years and he now had his answer.

Hidden away in a trunk; squirreled away in the hopes that he would never find them. The hope that he would forget about you and move on. He never had; he just kept his feelings silent, caging them up in his heart along with everything else he kept from his parents.

Anger surges through him. The first emotion he has felt since he opened that damned trunk.

He lets out a choked scream; the intensity of his anger surprising him as he slams a fist onto the counter top, wincing slightly from the pain now radiating up his right arm.

How dare they, he roars. How dare they keep this from him? How dare they keep you from him? Did you not fit their ideal – a pureblood from a well off family? Did you not meet their needs visually? Your hair perfect, your face just the same.

There was no good reason he could think of. Draco pads over to the bar, tucked away in the corner of the kitchen. There, he pours himself a knuckle’s length of the amber liquid, knocking it back with a hiss. The whiskey burns as it goes down; burns just like his emotions, like his anger.

Draco’s lip curls in distaste as he hears his father’s voice: a distraction, Draco, that’s all.

Lucius Malfoy had never uttered such words in Draco’s presence, but Draco was well aware of his father’s distaste of you.

Reading over his home address once again, Draco is hit with a sense of helplessness. He doesn’t know where to go from or what to do. He reads over your home address, neatly written in the top left hand corner of the envelope.

Sighing, he runs a hand down his face, still uncertain what his next move is going to be. He runs through the options in his head once, and out loud after.

To no-one in particular, he argues:

“I could reply. I could write a letter back, apologising for the absence of replies with a brief sentence or two about meeting up after so much time has passed.”

Draco waves that option away; his tongue too tied up to even think about coherently writing a letter out now. He moves onto option two:

“I could show up. I could apparate to the address right now, knock on the door and ask to speak to them.”

He shakes his head; immediately ridding himself of the idea. For starters, what if you had moved, and he finds himself knocking on the door of an unknown family? However, what if you still live there, and you answer the door? What is Draco to say to you then after such a long time apart?

He imagines the situation; forces himself into shoes that he could possibly be wearing in the near future. He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. Not a word, not a whisper, not an apology.

So he ignores option two.

Draco knows its cowardice that drives him to the third option, but to go fifteen years without a reply to a letter declaring love… it is too long of a time to expect any form of forgiveness, and he supposes that is what he is most afraid of. Draco’s terrified of not being worthy enough for your forgiveness.

So he goes with option three:

Do nothing.

------

Draco does the only thing that makes sense.

He takes the letters to work.

Draco slides the letters into his satchel, latching the buckle afterwards and taking a deep breath. Already, Draco feels the twenty four envelopes burning a hole through the soft, worn leather of his bag.

Their presence continues to haunt him: placing his bag in his locker and grabbing his lab coat, walking towards the admit desk where Martha – the head nurse – smiles at him before handing him a cup of coffee.

The emergency room is swamped. It is full to capacity with even more waiting in triage. They work as hard and as fast as they can, but it takes time to cure burns from potions and injuries from spells gone wrong.

It gets to the point where Draco needs to take a step back. He has to take a step back and re-evaluate. His personal life is shot; the love he had found at sixteen a dead end until this last weekend. His professional life is all that he has going for him, but on days like this, when he isn’t feeling entirely himself for the shock from the weekend, Draco does find himself being short with patients.

He escapes to the break room; the familiar bitter scent of coffee already relaxing the tense muscles in his shoulders. He settles into a chair at the rickety table, head in his hands as he takes a deep breath.

Draco represses the urge to cry. He pushes it down; deep, deep down inside him where he can deal with it another day. At this moment, all he wants is a hug from his mother and the age old promise that everything is going to be okay. It’s her fault’ it is Narcissa’s fault that he is like this.

That he is a husk of a man.

He feels like a therapist’s wet dream. Blaming his mother, his parents as the source of his problems, but he cannot help imagining how different his life would be if those letters had been delivered to his hands.

He would be with you. He would have given it all up for you.

His lineage; his inheritance; his name; the pureblood mania that infected his parents.

He would give it all up for you.

Fifteen years later and he would still give up every aspect of his life, every part of him that makes him him.

Draco would drop it all in a heartbeat for you.

“What’s gotten into you?” A feminine voice questions. Draco turns in his seat to see his closest friend and confidant, Alexandria Delphi, leaning against the door with a smile on her face.

He cannot help the smile that grows on his face at her presence. He shrugs, hoping he appears nonchalant, “What do you mean?”

Alexandria pushes herself off the door, coming to sit next to Draco at the old rickety table that has been at home in the break room since before time itself. She raises a perfectly shaped eyebrow at his obvious aversion. She gestures to his entire being, “I mean this. You’ve been off all day – not as attentive to patients, not your usual flirtatious self with the nurses which I know they are missing very much. What’s gotten into you, Draco?”

Draco sighs, knowing very well he could never hide anything from her. Alexandria and Draco had known each other since their first year of training; an unlikely friendship forming between them, but a friendship nonetheless. Thirteen years later, they had been working in the emergency department of St Mungo’s the longest – second only to Martha, the Head Nurse.

“I was cleaning out the attic over the weekend. Getting rid of some of my parent’s things.”

Alexandria frowns, reaching for Draco’s hand over the table. “You should have called me. I would have come and helped you; you shouldn’t have had to that alone.”

“I know,” Draco starts, running a hand down his face, “I know you would have but I think I needed to do it alone.”

Alexandria nods, releasing his hand at last and bringing it to the coffee mug sitting in front of her. Draco smiles at her before standing, opening his locker and grabbing the letters that call to him from his bag.

Sitting back down, he slides the two piles of letters in Alexandria’s direction, all the while saying, “I found these in my mother’s trunk. It had a false bottom, and they were sitting there.”

Her deep brown eyes widen, “How scandalous! They’re addressed to you?”

Draco nods, “When I was at Hogwarts, there was a girl.”

“Isn’t there always?” Alexandria quips, rolling her eyes at the dramatics of her colleague.

“Anyway,” Draco comments pointedly, “I was in love, or at least, I was as much in love as you can be when you’re sixteen years old. I still am, I think.

“Anyway, my parents didn’t approve of her; they never would so when war started brewing and I went home, I never imagined I would get letters. I never got letters. Turns out, she had been sending me letters all along and my parents had kept them hidden until now.”

“Bastards,” Alexandria spits; furious at people long dead.

“What do you think I should do?” Draco asks earnestly, his eyes never leaving the pile of letters.

“Have you read them?” Alexandria asks; her eyes fixed on the two sets of letters placed between them on the rickety table.

He shakes his head, refusing to meet Alexandria’s eyes, “I think I’m too scared.”

Alexandria smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. She sighs, “You aren’t going to know what to do until you read them. Reading the letters should give you the answer you are looking for.”

“When did you get so wise?”

“When you made me Attending,” She quips, yet there is still no heart behind it – none of her usual heat that tends to come out when Draco baits her slightly. She shakes her head, standing from her seat with her coffee in her hand, “I want to see you back out there soon. I don’t care whether you’re the head of the department.”

He raise an eyebrow at her in challenge; she simply smirks. He shakes his head at her antics, already rising from his seat, “I’m on my way.”

“Good, I have plenty of patients for you to see.”

Draco doesn’t reply, he watches her leave with a fond smile on his face.

Alexandria leaves the break room. She leaves as it is the only way that Draco will not see the sorrow and the longing reflected in her eyes. Alexandria doesn’t let him see the jealousy over the letters; the very emotion gnawing away at the ever growing pit in her stomach, only making it deeper as she replays the story of Draco’s first and only love.

She remembers when she used to look forward to coming into work; to help those in need and be a source of comfort for those she couldn’t help. Now, she struggles to make it through the door with the knowledge that she has been in love with the same man for years and nothing had happened.

That’s the thing about loving someone who doesn’t love you back – it turns you into a ghost of your former self.

------

Draco finds himself reaching for the first letter in the pile on a Friday night in the middle of April. If he had to be honest with himself, it had taken him a whole month to work up the nerve to read them. Draco had come home after the conversation with Alexandria and dropped the letters on the side table where they have taunted him ever since.

He knows he isn’t in the right frame of mind to be reading them; a bad shift with too many deaths combined with the two half full tumblers of whiskey consumed creates the equation of self-destruction. However, Draco reminds himself, he’s had fifteen years of internal self-destruction – what’s one more night when you tear yourself down so regularly despite the accolades attached to your name?

Draco hesitates, holding the first of the twenty four letters in his hand. He hesitates; unsure as to whether he is ready to read the handwriting of someone whose notes through class not only made him happy, but hopeful.

Releasing a shuddering breath, he tears open the seal and begins to read.

------

The letters are not long. They aren’t pages and pages of eloquent syntax over your feelings for the blonde haired, cocky teenager he once was. The closer he gets to the end of the pile, the less is written as if you had grown tired of such an act and not getting a reply.

Draco keeps his favourite close to him. It’s tucked away in his inner coat pocket, on the left hand side close to his heart.

The letter has been with him a month now. A month of one letter being read and reread too many times a day; to the point where Draco is reciting it in his sleep. It’s creased beyond recognition, but he still takes the risk every day to take it out and read it.

He misses you. He misses you. He misses you.

Now, Draco unfolds the paper. He unfolds the paper and reads the opening line: do you remember that night in the greenhouse? Writes your neat handwriting; the letters perfectly formed on the now browning parchment.

How could he forget? Draco closes his eyes, letting himself fall into the memory perfumed with compost and night blooming evening primrose.

*****

“Name two purposes of Valerian Root.”

“To help someone sleep as well as to ease anxiety.”

“Very good,” You laugh, moving quietly between the rows and rows of plants. You turn to him suddenly, “What is one danger of Black Henbane?”

Draco pauses, eyes already searching for papery flower with spidery black veins. He finds it nestled towards the back of the greenhouse, hidden away from sight and away from the wandering hands of children. Draco follows you closely; remaining near you as he says, “As a member of the nightshade family, the plant can be toxic if used in large quantities.”

The sight of your smile takes his breath away. You rush to him; toothy grin and loud laughter as you nod your head. “Madame Pomfrey was right,” You splutter, “You’re going to make an incredible Healer, Draco Malfoy.”

He doesn’t need to see the blush to know it’s there; he can feel the heat creeping its way up his neck to his cheeks. “I don’t think I’ll get there if I don’t have you.”

A satisfied smile replaces the happy grin that was on your face only moments ago. It was as if you were waiting for those words to fall from his lips; the reassurance within those words spreading over your worry like a balm over a wound.

How many more nights would they get like this? How many more nights would they have together?

Somewhat foolishly, Draco hopes he has forever. He hopes he has an eternity and a day with you, but he can feel the changes in the air, and he knows it isn’t good. Draco can see the tension at home; more and more people arriving, each just as secretive as the last, and Draco suddenly knows he only has a short amount of time before he’s inducted into the same fanatic group as his parents.

He’s on limited days with you so he’ll take the nights.

He’ll take all the nights.

-------

The shoebox had remained untouched under his bed for years now. Draco had shoved it there in a fit of anger and despair and he hadn’t looked since.

Reaching for it now, Draco represses the growing anger directed at his parents. He ignores the growing resentment surrounding the fact that they hid your letters for years and never thought to whisper a word of it – not even on their death beds.

The shoebox has aged; not unlike himself, he thinks as he wipes the dust from the top. The thick layer drawing a sneeze from him before he can open the box.

It doesn’t matter how many years it has laid unwanted under his bed; it doesn’t matter how long it has remained there, untouched and not thought of – Draco, to this day, can still recount for every little thing in there.

Notes that have now turned brown with age; old photos where youthful faces glance up at him; a chocolate bar wrapper from Honeyduke’s.

They each line the bottom of the shoebox. Draco’s memories of you out there for him to finally confront, to see. He sinks down onto his childhood bed; almost blinded by the force of the wave of nostalgia washing over him, threatening to drown him with the strength of his memories.

The memories hadn’t plagued him for some time though you played on his mind constantly – even more so since the letters.

They’re silly memories, but memories, nonetheless. Ones that he adores; ones that he cherishes.

It was the letters that triggered this. The letters that have brought the ghosts back from where they had been hidden, haunting him quietly until now.

Draco runs a hand through the trinkets in the box. He smiles at them, thinking of Hogsmeade and how he had surprised you with a bar of your favourite chocolate. The grin on your face worth all the jibes from Crabbe and Goyle when he got back to the Slytherin common room that evening.

Draco falls back onto his childhood bed with a huff.

He has a decision to make, and he doesn’t know where to begin. He has a decision to make, and he doesn’t have the guidance he so desperately needs.

Draco wants to see you; he needs to see you, but what if you don’t want to see him?

----

“I heard you handed in your notice,” Draco states as a way of breaking the ice.

Her notice of leave had landed in his hands not even three hours ago. He had spent the time since in a panic; rushing about the hospital to find Alexandria and to question her, to find out why she would leave after so long.

Why she would leave him.

Alexandria nods, “I have. I leave in two weeks.”

“Why?” Draco all but demands, “You love this place.”

“You’re right,” Alexandria sighs, “I do.”

“Then why are you leaving?”

“Because I can’t do this anymore, Draco. I can’t sit here and listen to you talk about those letters and sigh dreamily, or date someone else. I can’t do it,” Her voice breaks, “So I won’t. I want a fresh start, so I’m going to get one.”

“I didn’t know.”

“Of course you didn’t.”

“If I had known…”

“What? You’d have loved me?” Alexandria laughs mirthlessly, “Love me, Draco! Love me.”

“I can’t,” He whispers; the words the death knell to any scrap of friendship remaining.

Tears fall down her face, “And that’s why I have to go.”

She presses a kiss to his cheek; lingering for longer than what was probably good for her. When she pulls away, she can see the wetness of her tears on Draco’s cheek. “I hope you find her, Draco. You deserve a love story.”

-----

The cottage is small, but it is perfect. Ivy covered walls with a neat front garden; every inch showing the love and attention being paid to it. From the red roses that makes Draco think of his beloved mother to the intense scent of lavender that reminds Draco of the perfume you wore through Hogwarts. Looking up at the cottage, Draco realises that he had never seen a house look so much like a home.

He pauses at the gate; eyes focused on the bricks of the cottage and nowhere else. He doesn’t let the hope grow; he doesn’t let himself dream of what could happen. He’s thankful he has made it this far.

That he’s made it back to you.

The black gate creaks when Draco pushes it open. He winces at the noise, praying it doesn’t give him away and that you answer the door unexpectedly.

He needs this.

He needs the time.

It’s been fifteen years and since he found your letters months ago, he thought he would be ready by the time he found you.

Now Draco is thinking, perhaps he isn’t ready.

Will he ever be ready? He asks himself. Will he ever be ready to confront the very person he has been in love with since he was sixteen years old?

Draco doesn’t know; he doesn’t think he’ll ever know until he steps through the gate.

Draco’s hands shake as he rushes down the well-worn footpath to your dark brown front door. His hands continue to shake as he raises a single fist to knock on the door, three times.

He’s about to turn away; he’s about to walk away and never enter your life again. He will go away and never think of you again; of what could have been.

But then the lock clicks, and the handle moves.

“Hello?” A sweet voice calls out; your voice calls out.

“(Y/N)…” He breathes, and suddenly his nerves are gone and so is his worry. Suddenly, Draco is back at Hogwarts, the feel of your hand in his as he presses you into walls and steals kisses behind statues. He’s back to being sixteen years old and feeling the unrelenting agony of teenage love for the first time along with the merciless fear to do with the rising tensions.

“Draco,” You whisper, bringing a hand up to your mouth. Shock reflects in your eyes; your eyes that show no signs of aging other than the lines that are now forming in the corners.

Draco can’t help himself; he runs his eyes over your body, taking in the changes that becoming an adult has brought. It means nothing; he would love you regardless, but he cannot seem to help himself from drinking it all in.

From the realisation that he in fact stood in front of you.

You are there, and he is here with you.

“How have you been?” He asks; more out of politeness than anything else.

You shift awkwardly, “I’ve been good, Draco. How have you been?”

Draco nods, “I’ve been good too. I know you’re probably wondering why I’m here.”

You laugh, tucking yourself slightly behind the door, “That did cross my mind.”

He smiles; a large grin that he hasn’t felt on his face in a long, long time. Less than five minutes with you, and you’re already bringing out a side of him that Draco had long thought was extinct. He reaches into his coat, grabbing some of the letters that he keeps there. He holds them out to you, “I’ve only just found them.”

Audibly gasping, you instinctively reach for the letters. Your fingers brush Draco’s and he swears his heart skips a beat at the small touch. “I sent these years ago.”

Draco closes his eyes, “I know, and I cannot apologise enough to you for how long it has taken. I thought a reply in person would be better.”

Tears line your eyes as your fingers brush the worn paper; the crease marks more than evident from where Draco has folded and refolded the letter to read. “I always wondered what had happened…” You trail off, lifting your gaze from the letters to meet his eyes.

“My parents,” He whispers; voice pained. He takes a moment to collect himself, but you put a hand up to stop from saying anything else.

“I understand. You don’t need to explain more, Draco.”

“Thank you,” He replies, smiling softly. Then he launches into his tale, “I was cleaning out their belongings; cleaning in general really when I found a false bottom in my mother’s trunk. When I took it out, I found your letters… and I read them and reread them. I practically memorised them. I don’t think there are enough words in the English language to convey just how sorry I am.”

“Draco…”

“No, let me say this… please,” He whispers, adding on the last word for politeness. You fall silent, your eyes begging him not to say out loud what you know he is going to confess.

“Until the last star fades and we succumb to darkness, I shall love you. I have always loved you; from being a scared teenager to being a just as scared adult. My feelings haven’t changed. I’ve thought of nothing but you for fifteen years,” He pauses, drawing in a shuddering breath, “I love you.”

Silence falls over you both. Draco’s heart pounds in his chest as he watches the emotions flicker over your face in a pace he didn’t think was humanly possible. Acceptance, happiness, relief and then finally, sadness.

He furrows his brows; surely this would be a happy event no? Draco has tracked you down after a fifteen year absence. He has found his one true love at last, and now he stands before you wondering the cause of such sadness on your face and in your eyes.

“Draco…” You trail off, holding up your left hand, “I’m married.”

******

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#Draco Malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco x reader #draco malfoy imagines

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wen-kexing-apologist · 3 years

Text

Some Semblance of a Man

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31716874

Kaz

Kaz Brekker was always looking for a challenge, for the next rival to ruin, for the next near death experience. He’d learned quickly that sitting idle in The Barrel got you killed and he’d been running ever since. But with Pekka gone, Inej and her parents reunited, and the Council of Tides temporarily abated, Kaz was beginning to realize there was nothing else for him to do but wait.

Of course, there were the day to day activities, he still had The Crow Club to run, he still had slavers to gather information on. But after everything he and the Dregs had been through recently, those tasks seemed trivial. He didn’t want his crew to think that just because he’d come into a bit of money that he had gone soft, and he didn’t want rumor spreading throughout the Barrel that Kaz Brekker was getting bored. Without his crew around the Slat, Kaz had to find other ways to pass the time, and for the sake of maintaining appearances, Kaz would walk the streets at night, pretending to look at his watch, pretending to trail a random person, or spreading rumors. Sometimes he would walk to The Menagerie and think of what it would look like burned to the ground.

That’s where he’d been tonight, with a gentle mist of rain turning the cobblestone to mirrors, pools of colored lights spilling out across the street. There were few people out, the rain enough of a nuisance to make them think twice about spending their coin in gambling halls and pleasure houses. Despite the hour growing ever later, the Slat was teaming with life when Kaz returned, the air smelled like alcohol and sweat, the newer additions to the crew were trying to have a conversation, which had mostly devolved into shouting over the out of tune cacophony of voices singing drunkenly across the bar. Kaz bought a round for everyone, though he knew the chance of anyone here betraying him in favor of another gang was slim, keeping his crew happy with a bit of booze usually made his job a little easier. Besides, the longer the crowd was down here, the longer he had for some quiet of his own, in his room on the fourth floor, where the voices did not carry.

Kaz held his breath as he started his climb up the stairs, it was never easy, but Kaz valued the privacy and protection afforded by his room more than he worried about the pain. He bolted the door behind him, leaning his head against its frame and biting his lip as he massaged the twitching muscle of his thigh. He stretched, rubbed a knot from his neck, and reached for his hat.

He paused, the pattering of raindrops puncturing the peace. “Won’t Jesper and Wylan be missing their Wraith?” Kaz asked his empty room, his back to the window, hiding his smirk. He moved slowly, hanging his hat on the doorknob and turning around just in time to watch Inej swing gracefully from the rafters of his ceiling and drop down to his bed.

“No, they’re going over the books tonight, so they’ll be busy for a few hours at least,”

“Wylan’s books take hours to go over?” Kaz asked, leaning against the wall to take the weight off his bad leg.

“No,” Inej replied “But the boys tend to get distracted by...paperwork and usually have to start over,”

It took Kaz longer than he’d ever admit to understand her meaning, but once he had he merely quirked a single, bemused eyebrow at her. Something hungry and desperate twisted its way through Kaz’s stomach when Inej smiled wryly back at him, her eyes flitting to his collar. “What business?”

“I’ve been reading up on cannons.” Inej began, her face a picture of concentration. “Specht and I are going to be taking a few people we’ve been eyeing for our crew out on the water sometime in the next few weeks to practice. We aren’t going far, just far enough to where the cannon fodder won’t send other ships into a panic. We want to see if they can work well as a team before we commit to hiring them.”

“A wise decision,” Kaz agreed, ignoring the way his heart seized within his chest. It made him happy she would have her freedom, but the thought of losing her to the sea always left an ache.

“I wanted to extend an invitation to you,” the confidence Kaz had grown so used to seeing in Inej’s shoulders melted away, she pulled out a knife, turning it over in her hand. “to join us on that trip. I thought you might want to be there to ensure your...investment is taking form the way you’d hoped it would,”

“It wasn’t an in-” Kaz swallowed the rest of the sentence. It wasn’t an investment. He thought, don’t you know this was all for you? “How long will you be gone?”

“Not long, a day, maybe two.”

“When you have the dates secured, let me know, I’ll see if I can make the time,” He knew already he would make the time.

Inej nodded, a glint of something in her eye “And you? What business?”

“I have a job for you,” Kaz took this as an excuse to get closer to Inej, moving toward his desk and stretching out his leg. “I recently came into the possession of some ledgers,”

“You can use the word ‘stole’ Kaz, I’m not the stadwatch ,”

“They have the names of all the ships that have docked in the harbor, the captain, and their cargo,” Kaz continued, “I was looking through it for leads on slavers when I noticed something,” Inej untangled her limbs, and pushed herself upward, walking over to Kaz’s desk. Kaz had forgotten how comfortable it felt to have her by his side. “There’s a ship that keeps appearing, but it never stays for long. It docks at last light, and it departs first thing in the morning. I’ve looked at the dates of it’s arrival,” Kaz handed Inej the first of the ledgers, she took it from him without a word, scanning the pages in search of the same patterns he had found.

“The Sankta ?” Inej hissed and Kaz could hear the disgust on her tongue.

“I thought that might catch your eye,” he opened another ledger, pointing to the name of the ship and the dates it had docked in Ketterdam. “It comes in every six months or so, and when it does the population in the Barrel always seems to increase. The clubs start advertising more heavily, the pleasure houses start getting more traffic,”

“You think they’re smuggling people into the city?”

“I don’t know for certain what they’re trading, the ledger has different cargo listed every time. And the Captain...I’ve never heard of them before.” Inej placed the ledger in her hand back down on the desk, leaning in closer. Her braid fell down across her shoulder, barely an inch from Kaz’ face. Focus . “If the pattern holds they should be docking here in-”

“Three days?” Inej finished for him, reaching for the second ledger. Her fingers brushed against his gloves, her forearm against his jacket. Kaz lost all sense of time and place, despite the warmth of the room and the floor beneath his feet. One second he was in the Slat and the next he was cold and drowning. Inej was saying something, something like “tell him”, maybe? But he wasn’t quite sure, there was cotton in his ears, his heart was in his throat. There was water rising around his ankles.

“Kaz?” He heard her voice, far off, like a siren calling him to shore. He did not trust himself to speak, as it was he struggled to find breath “Kaz!”

He slammed back into himself, pressing one hand flat against his desk, wrapping the other around the head of his cane so tightly his knuckles went white beneath his gloves. Solid wood and solid metal, no flesh or water in sight, this was always how it went. The place beside him where Inej had been was empty, she had retreated, pressed herself up against the wall, her hands behind her back.

“I’m sorry, I-,” Kaz would have done anything to wipe away her guilt. “I wasn’t paying attention. I didn’t mean to-”

“I wasn’t prepared,” he said, unable to look her in the eye, to admit to the weakness they both knew that he carried.

“I know,”

“I didn’t expect-”

“I know,” Inej interrupted. “Does the Sankta change the Berth it docks on?”

“No,” Kaz would never have the words to express the gratitude he felt at her diversion. He turned slightly in his seat, pretending to study the documents in front of him. Pretending like every cell in his body wasn’t honed in on Inej. On the way she was looking at him, distracting him once again with talk of plots and schemes, intangible actions that would let him fly high above the harbor he was drowning in. “It uses the same Berth every time.”

“Do we know who that dock belongs to?”

“It’s paid for by the Council, it’s designated for public use,”

“I’ll see what information I can gather,” Inej said and Kaz nodded, trying to force the image of Jordie out of his head. “Goodnight, Kaz,” Inej whispered after a moment, and though he did not hear her footsteps, he felt her absence immediately.

Where the water had been, regret replaced it. He balled his hand into a fist and closed his eyes. “Wait!” he called out after her, turning around slowly to not seem overeager. Inej was frozen, partway out his window. He felt picked apart with the way her gaze fell upon him, her eyebrows knit together, her face desperate and searching. Whatever unease still lingered in the center of his stomach, whatever terror still wrapped around his ankles, it fell away at the sight of Inej, sitting here on his window sill, backlit by moonlight and held up by hope.

At some point the fear of what her touch would bring him was dampened by his need to hold her close. He was broken and crooked and the most unworthy man, but he needed Inej to know it wasn’t her fault. Wanted her to know that he was trying to push the pieces of himself back together, into someone, something she would not be ashamed to love.

When Kaz and Nina had broken into the morgue all those months ago, he had powered through his fear with thoughts of Inej; the warmth of her skin, the sound of her voice. But as every second in that room of corpses passed them by, Kaz had forced Inej from his mind, not wanting to taint his memories of her with the scent of death. Kaz had believed for so long that the foolish little boy he had been had died in the harbor, but as his eyes fell upon Inej now, he knew he had been wrong. He had carried Kaz Rietveld with him every day of his life, and had pulled that doe eyed little fool to the surface on the back of his brother’s bloated body with every touch since then.

He’d learned very quickly what it meant to be weak in The Barrel. The Barrel starved, and beat, and stole all the kindness and compassion and love out of those unlucky enough to build a life inside it. Weakness got you killed, so Kaz had buried his weaknesses so deep they had turned themselves into shadows. He had kept them there in the dark for so long they had grown claws and teeth, they had become so rabid, so feral that Kaz was finding it harder and harder to keep them locked away.

But maybe he didn’t have to anymore. Because now he had the Wraith, he had Inej, and Inej made him strong. Inej made him wish for things he had convinced himself he could never have. Perhaps if he tried it, if he tried it enough, to touch her, to put her hand in his, to let her rest her head against his shoulder, to...to kiss her, he could finally put the little boy in the harbor to rest. Yes, he would drown his fear beneath the tidal wave that was Inej, he would burn away the memories of corpses against his flesh with the warmth of her skin against his.

“I want to try again,” it pained him to admit to it, it thrilled him to have said it. Kaz failed to keep his heart beat steady when Inej planted her feet firmly back into his room, and closed the window.

“Try what again?” she asked, stalking forward until there was nothing more than breath between them. Kaz studied the head of his cane, his skin prickled with the thought of what she’d feel like in his hands.

“I-” He dared a glance at her, she was ethereal, she was calculating, she was Inej and the rest of Kaz’s wish was lost with his nerve.

“Kaz, tell me,” Inej leaned forward, Kaz leaned back. He clenched his jaw, locked himself away behind his mask. “Tell me what you want,” He could feel the way she looked at him, like she’d created her own gravity and he’d collapsed beneath it. But he couldn’t make himself form words, it had taken everything he’d had to say something the first time, to show her such weakness again would surely break him. When Inej spoke there was an edge to her voice that was sharper than her knives. “Say it, Kaz. For once in your life just...say what you’re thinking. There is no one else here but us. There’s no one else to see you, to hear you treat me like you actually care.”

Kaz hung his head in shame, it was a fair blow, but that didn’t stop him from shattering into a million pieces at the acknowledgement of all the times he’d failed her. “I want to take my armor off.” He forced himself to meet her eye. “I want to beat this, I will beat this. Will you help me?”

They’d done this little dance for months now, the day on the docks, when he’d shown Inej her ship, he’d managed to hold her hand for a whole five minutes without sinking below the waves. He’d tried a couple times since then, with various levels of success. Some days he’d managed to throw his arm around her, others just the thought of her face caused him to tug on his gloves.

“Of course I’ll help you, Kaz, you only had to ask,” Kaz committed that smile of hers to memory. “Are you ready?” Inej asked.

No. Kaz steadied himself and straightened his posture “Yes,”

They started slowly, Inej resting her palm on the back of his gloved hand, Kaz took a deep breath, he could do this, he was fine. Inej’s fingers curled around his hand, she pressed their palms together. Kaz pushed the water away. She laced their fingers together, he gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

“You okay?”

“Fine,”

“Do you want to keep going?”

“Yes,”

Kaz wasn’t sure what kind of sound he made when Inej began to tug the gloves from his hands. She froze, looking up at him, reading him the way only she could. She dropped her hand, Kaz wanted to reach for it, but he let it fall away. “I’m sorry, did you want to do it?”

“No, it’s- no one else ever has,” Kaz cleared his throat, biting back a smile at the way Inej’s cheeks flushed. Tentatively, Inej continued, it took a lifetime to complete her task, it took a second. The metal of his cane was cold against his fingertips, for the first time in a long time it no longer felt comforting. He reached out with his other hand, and gently Inej took it, her palm against the top of his bare hand. It felt like fire, but Kaz preferred the burn to the icy harbor he had always known. His breath caught in his throat, Inej continued until their hands were pressed palm to palm.

“Breathe,” Inej whispered, Kaz exhaled and peace rushed in to fill his lungs. She interlaced their fingers, the water started in. Think of her . Kaz clenched his jaw. Think of that day at the docks . Kaz faltered when Inej wrapped her other hand around his wrist, the one that held his cane. He thought that she might pull their hands away, and though he was not a man of faith, he thanked every Saint he knew that she kept her hold on him.

She repeated the pattern, gripping his wrist, his elbow, his shoulder with all his layers on. He kept his breathing purposeful, controlled, his eyes trained on the wall for fear he would look at Inej and see a corpse standing in her place. She slid her hand from his shoulder to his chest, he hoped she could not feel his heartbeat. He nearly lost his footing when her arm went to his waist. He was impossibly warm, sweat had started beading at his temples, he gripped his cane a little tighter.

Inej released his hand and a weight Kaz hadn’t realized was upon him disintegrated in his chest. But it returned in a flash when Inej began to pull off his coat. “Saints,” he whispered. “Why won’t it stop ?” he hadn’t meant to say it, he hadn’t meant for it to send Inej shuffling backward, too far away for him to grasp.

“It takes time, Kaz,” Inej replied, tossing his coat on the bed, taking a tentative step forward, then another when Kaz responded in kind. She brushed her fingers against his shirt sleeve at the wrist, it was an apology and a question. “You can’t kill this kind of monster in a day,” she traced a line up to his elbow. “It took me months,” Inej said, so simply that it knocked his world out of alignment and he had to take a step backward to right himself. Inej reacted on instinct, clutched his shoulders to make sure he did not fall.

“I’m not strong enough,” Kaz blurted out, hoping that if he spoke, he could force the feeling of rotting flesh out of his mind. “I’m not as strong as you,”

“That’s not true,” Inej ran her fingers across his chest and down to his waist. “My weakness just wasn’t visible, yours is,” she unbuttoned his vest, Kaz hadn’t even noticed and the implication of that made his stomach do a somersault. “When someone touches you, you are present, aware.” She continued her pattern, hands going back to his wrist, making sure he could anticipate where her next move was going to be. “Me? I disappeared,” Kaz caught her eye, and threw his thought away. He refused to pity her, he knew she wouldn’t want that. “I looked calm and collected, but no one knew what it was doing to me, to shake their hand or have their arms around me,”

She smiled at him, unrestrained and brilliant, and he looked down to realize he had his hand upon her waist, her arms wrapped around his in kind. This felt like a victory, it felt like a curse. Against the roughness of her jacket, his hand began to tremble. She stepped away, he didn’t want her to, but it was exactly what he needed.

“Your tie,” Inej stated, and Kaz could have worshipped her right then, for understanding that if she had brought her hand up to his neck, he might not survive the evening. He undid his tie, though the tightness in his throat did not relent. He unbuttoned his shirt, hoping that the action would steady his hand. He was feeling light-headed but he wasn’t drowning...yet. He wiped the sweat from his brow, ran a hand through his hair, forced his anxiety out with a breath. He had never gotten this far with her before.

Inej repeated the rhythm: wrist, elbow, shoulders. Her hand was Jordie’s hand, her flesh was Jordie’s flesh. His chest, his waist. The waters started rising, coming in with the strength of a flood. Inej could sense the change in him immediately, “Tell me about the tattoo,” Inej said, he did not want her hand on him anymore, he needed it to stay so he could keep trying. He knew why she was asking, she knew he needed a distraction, and he chuckled darkly because she did not know that this particular question serveed an opposite purpose.

“Not tonight,” But someday .

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No,”

Her hand has been in his for seconds, minutes, days, long enough that Kaz let himself hope that one day he could be rid of this. This ghost of his brother, the phantom of his skin, slipping underneath his hand, his chest, his face. Carefully, never breaking eye contact, Inej brought his hand up to her lips, Kaz focused on his breathing, on the moonlight spilling across Inej’s plait. Kaz tasted salt on his tongue, no not salt, iron. His vision went blurry, and he lost the shape of Inej as a result. This was unbearable, but he was desperate for more, it was easier this way. Feeling her lips against his skin, instead of her skin beneath his lips. She pressed another kiss to the creases of his palm, to his wrist. This felt nothing like a corpse, but the traces of her lips burned like ice, like water.

“I never asked you,” Kaz began, relaxing the tension in his jaw “Are you okay with this?”

“I’m not doing anything I don’t want to be doing,” she whispered against his forearm, lips brushing the dark ink of his Dregs tattoo. He flexed the hand that held his cane, releasing some of the stiffness in his knuckles. She continued her familiar path across his body, through the smoke of Reaper’s Barge Kaz noticed she took care to avoid the R tattooed to his bicep when she kissed him there.

His whole body was alight, electrified, dying. He could smell death in his nose, he could feel the warmth of Inej’s body wash over him. He was tired, he was treading water, knowing any minute he could drown. He saw Jordie’s face, swollen, purple, eyes cloudy, No. He thought of Inej, of her laughter, her smile, of her voice whispering his name. Kaz Rietveld and Kaz Brekker were at war with one another, and right now, he wasn’t sure who would win. He should tell her to stop, but he didn’t want her to.

Inej took another step in, her hands balling into fists. I’m not doing anything I don’t want to be doing . She had just told him that, but he saw her now, saw how tightly she carried herself. He’d been so caught up in his own head, he hadn’t realized she’d been trying to shed her armor too. She leaned in, and Kaz was back in a hotel bathroom, she paused mere inches from his chest, sucked in one shaking breath, and ran her lips against his collar bone.

The current pulled him under; Kaz Rietveld had won again. Sudden, uncontrollable panic seized within his chest, snapping the leash to which he tied his weaknesses. They ran him over, all snarls and teeth and claws, turning him into something wild and furious. Before he could control himself, before he was even fully conscious of what was happening, he had flung his arms outward, pushing Inej away from him. “Stop,”

Inej, working to quiet her own demons had not been expecting this outburst from Kaz, she lost her footing, stumbling backward, and though she did not fall, Ghafa’s never fall , she did slam the back of her knee into the hard metal of Kaz’s bed frame. Inej cried out, more out of shock than out of pain. Desperation, horror, fury, regret pulled Kaz further under, the room was spinning, the moonlight hurt his eyes. Kaz caught himself on the edge of his desk, fumbling frantically for the waste basket he kept there, the cold metal of it in his hands bringing the briefest moment of comfort before he was vomiting up his dinner.

“Kaz?” Inej’s voice was sturdy, grounding, calm, but he could not turn to face her.

Inej

Kaz Brekker had gone by many names, and Inej had heard them all, whispered fearfully through the streets of Ketterdam by cowardly men. Kaz Brekker, Dirtyhands, the Bastard of the Barrel. Inej had spent so many nights on this city’s rooftops, seen only by the stars, listening in on the conversations that twisted up to her like crow feathers in the wind. She knew what people thought of him, he held a place amongst the most dangerous and feared of men. To some he was a bogeyman, to all he was a threat. And though she had seen him do terrible, violent things it still sent a sharp bolt of surprise crackling through her body whenever she heard the word “monster” following his name.

That monster stood before her now, leaning against his desk. Trusting her enough to turn away, to leave himself defenseless in her presence. Not trusting her enough to show his face. He was sweating, and in the light that spilled from the lamp upon his desk, Inej could see his hands twitching with the slightest tremor. She knew he was slipping, knew he was trying desperately to pull his armor on. But she was not here for Dirtyhands, and she had no time tonight for bastards. She thought about those names, the truths they carried with them. Could they really be titles for the man she was watching now? A boy who could not look her in the eye? No, the person that stood, half naked and shaking in this tiny little room, was neither of those things. This, she realized, this was simply

“Kaz,” she tried again.

“Leave,” and if she had known him any less she would have thought that he was serious.

“No,”

“Inej,” She was never sure how he could do that, how he could make her feel coveted and worshipped just by saying her name “ please ?” and his voice became a quiet, broken thing.

“No.” She said again, gentle as the breeze “I will not leave you, not like this,”

“I don’t want to see you,” it wasn’t a lie,

“You did great, Kaz, you’re making progress, ” and so was she, though she wasn’t sure Kaz realized it.

“Inej, get out,” he hissed, as if it hurt him to say the words.

“Why?”

He stiffened, and she bit back a smirk he hadn’t been expecting that . “I-” he hung his head.

She knew he didn’t have a reason, not one that he would admit to anyway “Is it because you don’t want me to see you like this? Because you’re worried you can’t give me what I want?” She tried to dampen the delight that bubbled in her chest, when she watched blotches of red blush paint the back of Kaz’s neck and spill down across his shoulder blades. “Is it because you feel ashamed?”

Kaz screamed with a rage she had seen up close only twice, a wild, guttural thing. When he got like this, destruction usually followed in his wake. As if on cue, Kaz slammed his hands down on the table, sweeping everything that rested there- every half drawn blueprint, ledger, and plan -onto the floor. His lantern tumbled with it as did a small wind up dog toy Kaz always kept sitting at his desk. The force of their impact caused both to shatter, sending pieces of glass and metal skidding across the hard wood floors. The paperwork took longer to fall, floating gently in the air around him like snow.

Kaz finally turned to face her, fury exploding behind his eyes. He wanted a fight, but Inej would never give him that satisfaction. When the dust settled, the anger that had possessed him had begun to burn low, confusion taking control of his posture and his brow when he finally saw Inej.

She had crossed her arms and tried her best to look bored. Based on his reaction it may have been working. “You can’t scare me away, Kaz,” It was the wrong thing to say, but it’s what he needed to hear.

The fire that flickered behind his eyes turned to ice, “I am the Bastard of the Barrel,” Kaz spit, stalking toward her, making sure to punctuate his words with the tapping of his cane against the wood. “I brought down Pekka Rollins, I conned Jan Van Eck, I broke into the Ice Court and made it out alive. Men run when they see me coming, parents tell their children I’ll steal them away in the night if they do not behave.” Kaz only stopped when her back was to a wall. He wanted her to feel cornered, he wanted her to feel trapped. On any other night, that may have worked, but she knew this was an act, and she had maneuvered herself so she was near the window, and he hadn’t seemed to notice. “I scare who I damn well please,”

Inej could not hold back anymore, she hadn’t meant to do it, but she started to laugh. “That’s good,” Kaz blinked in surprise, his posture shifting, his grip loosening on his cane. She took a step forward, he took a step back. “I can see how that would work on most people. But I know you Kaz. Sure, you took down Pekka and Jan Van Eck...with help,” she took another step forward, reveling in Kaz’s retreat. “But you’ve also fainted in a carriage, nearly drowned in Djel’s river, and got embarrassed when Jesper’s Dad caught you two in a fist fight.” Kaz ducked his head to hide the redness rushing to his cheeks. She took another step forward, he ceded his territory. “You got good at palming cards and picking pockets not because you planned for a life of crime, but because you like magic tricks . You’ve lost a hat in every corner of Ketterdam,” Kaz lost his footing, his knees buckled beneath him, sending him tumbling onto his bed. With nowhere left for him to go, Inej smirked, and leaned in just far enough so he could hear her whisper. “And, when you wake up in the morning, your hair sticks up to one side. Jesper and I pretend not to notice, but we both think it’s adorable,”

Inej spun gracefully on her heel, gliding back towards the window, because she was not cruel and did not want Kaz to suffer...she didn’t want Kaz to suffer much . Kaz glowered at her, but seemed to otherwise have calmed. “You know,” Inej said when the silence grew too heavy. “I’ve been afraid of a lot of people since I came to Ketterdam,”

“Even Jesper?” Kaz asked eventually, she could tell from the cadence of his voice he was exhausted.

“Especially Jesper” Inej trusted Jesper with her life, he had brought so much chaos and joy into her world. But he was kind and charming in a way that sent shivers down her spine. Inej had had too many clients come to her, all smiles and compassion. Jesper scared her because she knew what kind and charming men could do. Kaz flinched and looked away.

“But not me?”

“No,�� Inej wanted to touch his cheek, to smooth the worry that lined his forehead “Never you,”

Slowly, deliberately, Kaz stood. Inej’s breath caught in her throat when her eyes met his. He looked paler than usual, and maybe a little green, but his hands were still, his stance was steadier. He had locked his thoughts away, no emotion showing on his face, but there was a shine in his eyes Inej had seen before, when Kaz was trying to let go of hope. He quirked a single eyebrow at her, a challenge.

“I’ve been scared for you,” she admitted. “I’ve been scared to disappoint you, I’ve been scared of what it would do to me to lose you.” Inej stepped forward, already knowing what would happen, knowing that Kaz, having slipped away once already, would take a step back. But instead he stood rooted in place, his grip tightening ever so slightly on his cane.

“Why?”

“Because you’ve never looked at me the way everyone else does.” She considered the weight of the words on her tongue. “One day at The Menagare would have been enough to show me what kind of place Ketterdam truly was, and I spent a year inside it’s walls. I’ve collapsed beneath a million broken promises, but never yours. I’ve heard a million gentle lies, but never from you. I have felt a million….unwanted hands,” Inej wanted to shrink away into the shadows, but she refused to show her weakness, she refused to look away. Like magnets they were pulling toward each other until they were sharing the same air, until they were standing as each other’s equals in the center of the room. Inej held out her hand, not a demand, not a question, but a wish. Her heart threatened to burst out of her chest when Kaz, without a moment’s hesitation, took her hand. He clenched his jaw, and drew a soft line across her palm with his thumb, it was a certainty, it was a promise. “But never yours,”

Kaz cleared his throat “I haven’t been scared of anyone since Jordie died,”

“Not even Jesper?” Inej teased, because she didn’t know what else to say.

Kaz bit back a smile “Never Jesper,”

“Not even me?” It was another joke, because she’d wanted to see more of that smile.

His face fell into something powerful and serious “I’ve always been scared of you, Inej,” she knew how much it must have taken for him to have admitted it. “From the moment you snuck up on me with bells on,”

“Really?” she could not hold the joy she felt at bay, it spread throughout her body, warming her all the way down to her toes.

Kaz nodded.

“But I was nothing then,”

“You have always been something.” Kaz corrected. “Back then you were Silence,”

“And now?” her eyes kept falling to his lips.

“You…” Kaz continued, leaning down, sending Inej’s heart into a frenzy she was worried she could never tame “should be going home,”

Inej scoffed, Kaz’s walls slipped down just long enough to let a small chuckle pass his lips. She would tuck that away in her memory, a look into the boy he could have been, a minute of vulnerability all for her. “That’s not fair! I told you mine!” If it had been Jesper standing in front of her, Inej would have backhanded his shoulder. But this was Kaz and he had done a lot tonight, she didn’t want to push her luck. Especially when she was enjoying this feeling of his hand in hers, she wasn’t looking to ruin it. “Come on Kaz,” she whispered, “why are you scared of me?”

He chewed his lip, and she could see the gears turning in his head, the debate he was conducting. Should he tell her the truth? Or keep his feelings a mystery and send her away. She was getting tired of being sent away. “Because I trust you.” Kaz said. “Because, you make me want to tell you everything. We deal in secrets, Inej, because we know that information can be more valuable than money. You’ve learned my patterns, you know my mind, you could unravel everything I have built with a single word to the right person,”

It was true, but it hurt. She pulled her hand from his, and regretted it. “You think that I would?”

“No,” he said it so fast, so sure that it knocked the air out of her lungs, it tore her voice from her throat. “And that is why you scare me. Because I know that thought has never crossed your mind.” He tugged gently at the bottom of her braid, twisting it around in his fingers. This was a system they had worked out months ago, for when Kaz wanted to be physical but the feeling of her skin was too much. “You are kinder and stronger than I will ever be and I am scared that-” he dropped her braid, placed both his hands atop his cane, and broke eye contact. “I am scared that you will finally see yourself for everything you are and know I am not worthy of your time or loyalty.”

“Kaz,” she said, because she didn’t know what else to say. Because she couldn’t say I love you . The tension in the room, the cord that pulled the two of them together, was severed by the tolling of a clock.

Kaz broke first, eyes skirting to the city stretched out below them. “Goodnight, Inej,” he whispered, his voice rougher than usual.

“Goodnight,” she managed, slipping out of his window and vanishing into the night. Kaz watched her go until he could not feel her presence any longer, then he turned, and started picking up his mess. When Kaz woke the next morning, his heart stuttered in his chest. Sitting in the middle of his desk was a brand new wind up dog toy and laying next to it, reflecting the early morning sun was a geranium made out of glass.

#kanej fanfiction #kanej #kanej fic #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #the crows #six of crows #jesper fahey #wylan van eck #crooked kingdom #shadow and bone #kaz x inej #kaz brekker x inej ghafa #six of crows fanfiction

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raindrops-and-tubestops · 3 years

Note

Angst: 2

Linumi:)

I see you like this pairing Nonie! That’s fine, it’s kind of fun to write something different! Enjoy! 💜

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The air was still, for once the sounds of her city were absent, it seemed she was the only one who couldn’t sleep. Sealed in her own bubble, the metalbender wa slots in thought. The glow from the spirit portal casting an eery glow across the tops of the buildings. From her apartment she could see the waves rolling gently in the bay, the salt and chill from the water sweeping through the city.

A painful sigh escaped her lips. This wasn’t how she had pictured her night. She flexed her feet slightly, readjusting them where they were propped on the railing of her balcony. The pull from her muscles reminding her of just how long she had been in the position. The tumbler in her other hand, now devoid of ice, confirmed the length of time. She set it on the arm of her chair.

She sighed again, her hand that was unoccupied sweeping across her forehead, trying to massage the tension away. She was supposed to be enjoying a quiet night in…a simple dinner followed by a nightcap, one last chance at spending quality time with him before he left.

In the morning he’d be traveling with his brother, visiting the other air temples, making the rounds and noting what needed to be done. It had been a hectic yeah and Tenzin was eager to make sure that nothing had come to pass at the other sites in his absence. Bumi, of course, had volunteered to go with his little brother…in fact she was certain they were picking Kya up on the way back.

He was going to be gone for at least a month. Communication wouldn’t be difficult, but only being able to send letters ahead to certain temples in hopes that he would receive them wasn’t the same as hearing his voice. Seeing his smile when she rolled over in bed every morning. Tonight had been her last chance.

Lin bit her lip, punishing the delicate skin, almost to the point of drawing blood. She could feel the tears beginning to pool behind her eyes; she would not cry.

The morning had been like any other, except that she wasn’t needed at work and would be spending the day lazing around her apartment. She rose before Bumi, starting breakfast and their coffee, knowing that after he would head to the island to be pack. The plan was for him to return later that evening and for them to relax; packing ahead of time ensured they would have additional time together.

Lin was standing at the sink, humming to the radio and washing the dishes, when she felt his presence behind her. She turned her head, glancing over her shoulder to see Bumi leant against her counter, a look of contemplation on his face. He seemed to be looking through her, his eyes unseeing.

She turned off the faucet with a flick of her wrist and moved so that she was facing him, drying her hands with a dish towel.

She eyed him warily, ‘What’s the matter?’

He hummed noncommittally, shrugging his shoulders. Lin could tell he was trying to act nonchalant, but there was clearly something on his mind. She knew him well enough to know that much.

Green eyes locked with grey, seeing the apprehension clearly on display.

‘I’m going to ask you something,’ he started hesitantly, ‘ and I would like you to let me finish before you answer or interrupt.’

Lin was on instant alert…those words, in that combination, had never boded well for her. She nodded anyway, regardless of the reluctant feeling in her stomach.

Bumi inhaled slowly, ‘I want to tell Tenzin about us.’

Her eyes widened in surprise. That was the last thing she’d expected to fall from his lips.

‘I can’t travel with him for a month, maybe more, with a good conscience, and not tell him.’

‘It’s none of his business,’ Lin insisted.

Bumi crossed his arms over his chest, ‘I’m aware of that Lin, but he’s my brother.’

He looked at his feet for a few moments before continuing, ‘We’ve been working on reconnecting…all of us, and I want to be completely transparent with him.’

She realized he had a point, but she wasn’t ready to concede the fact.

He sighed again, smiling softly and looked her directly in the eyes, it was as if he knew her thoughts.

‘But that’s only if you’re completely comfortable with the decision.’

Lin tilted her head in contemplation. It wasn’t that she was ashamed of Bumi…he was probably the most stable relationship she’d had since Tenzin. She wasn’t afraid of what others would think, but she was afraid of hurting Tenzin. She was afraid of losing her privacy. She was afraid of taking a step that she wasn’t ready for.

‘Bumi, we agreed to keep this quiet,’ she began.

‘I know,’ he interrupted, face falling slightly, ‘sorry, I didn’t mean to cut you off.’

He swept his hand between them, gesturing for her to continue.

She scratched the back of her neck, trying to decide how to voice what she was thinking. Telling people about their relationship terrified her…the last time she had a public relationship, it had ended badly, she had been the topic of the gossip columns for weeks. She wasn’t a fool, she knew that it was part of the territory, being a child of a war hero and dating the child of the previous Avatar as well as a Master Healer (read THE Master Healer).

As if sensing her inner debate, Bumi whispered, ‘It’s only Tenzin.’

‘Tenzin will turn into Kya, and then your mother, and then my sister, and then Korra and her friends and…’ Lin’s thoughts were spiraling.

Their family would be happy…intellectually she knew that, but she still couldn’t bring herself to agree. She looked at him with what she hoped was an apologetic expression…she hoped he understood her reluctance.

He blew out breath as he reached forward, enfolding her stiff body into his arms. He nuzzled her temple, inhaling the soft floral scent with hints of metal.

‘It’s ok,’ he mumbled, ‘forget I brought it up.’

His words were meant to reassure her, but she couldn’t help feel guilty. She knew she didn’t give him the answer he’d been hoping for and squeezed him tighter in response.

Not long after this discussion, Bumi let her know that it was probably better if he returned to the island for the night. Tenzin still had a few final course corrections he wanted to discuss with his brother. She looked at him with a question in her eyes, one he couldn’t answer. She nodded dazedly, no quite sure how to respond.

She walked him to the door,she quickly glanced around, making sure that he hadn’t left anything he might need. She rubbed her arm awkwardly as she couldn’t meet his eyes. She knew he was frustrated but didn’t want to pressure her, he would wait until she was ready, if she ever was.

He sighed, almost sounding defeated, pulling her gently closer and placed a chaste kiss on her forehead. He then turned to open the door, looking over his shoulder.

‘I’ll send a letter as soon as we land, we should be stationary at the temple for at least a week.’

Again Lin nodded, glancing up slightly, a hand massaging her upper arm. He smiled slightly and slipped through the doorway, the click of the lock deafening in her now empty apartment.

The tears were flowing freely now, she couldn’t stop them even if she tried. Why hadn’t she just agreed? Now thinking back, it had seemed so selfish, he didn’t deserve that. Their relationship was about give and take, and it seemed she’d been doing a lot of the taking so far.

She knew he understood, he knew her insecurities and her past hurts and how they affected her interactions with people. They had talked long and hard about communication before even venturing into this territory, admittedly unfamiliar for both of them. They wanted this to work…they loved each other. They had never said it out loud, but it was implicitly implied, they knew.

He made her feel safe and understood unlike anyone else. If anyone could comprehend the pressure of being the child of a war hero that didn’t seem to measure up to their famous parent, it was Bumi.

Lin could feel her nose starting to run and her eyes growing puffy. She hadn’t cried like this in a long time. Probably since she’d lost her bending…maybe even before that if she was being honest. After Tenzin had broken up with her? When she thought her mom would show and didn’t?

She rubbed her hands over her face roughly, frustrated with the loss of control of her emotions. She drew her knees up on to the patio chair, hugging them to her chest, as she laid her head on them. Her body shuddered with soft sobs, she couldn’t have stopped them if she tried.

‘Please don’t cry.’

His quiet voice startled her. She snapped her head up quickly, almost knocking the glass off its perch on the arm of her chair. She carefully unfolded her legs, her feet connecting with the floor, she could feel his heartbeat now. It was as erratic, matching hers in its rhythm.

His eyes smiled even if his mouth didn’t, she could feel the warmth enveloping her. Everything would be ok, it would work itself out, he came back. That had to mean something right?

She rushed to him and collided with his chest, a soft oof coming from his lips as he caught her easily. The sobs that were quiet earlier, the ones she was trying to contain, fell from her lips uninhibited. The more relieved she became, the louder the sounds from her mouth were, rising in pitch and frequency.

Bumi rubbed her back, quietly yet steady, until the sobs subsided in small whimpers. He had never heard these particular sounds from the metalbender in his arms. It was humbling to hear witness to such vulnerability.

‘I’m sorry,’ she hicupped into his chest, ‘I was selfish earlier…I should have at least discussed it with you.’

‘Shhhhh,’ he intoned gently, trying to calm Lin, ‘we don’t have to talk about it no, it’s ok.’

‘But it’s not!’ She insisted, ‘it’s not ok.’

She shook her head, unfolding herself from his arms, putting the needed distance between them, she needed to clear headed…and he was distracting. She wiped the tears and snot on the sleeve of her sweater, she could be disgusted about it later.

‘You can tell him,’ she whispered, ‘we can tell everyone, if that’s what you want.’

She paused, looking to his wide grey eyes and the beginnings of a smile stretching across his face. The hair on his head even more disheveled than normal, his crooked grin so reminiscent of his father, it made her smile in turn. Her eyes watered as she contemplated her next words

‘I love you,’ she her words soft and lilting, ‘so much.’

prompts 💜

#keep those prompts coming anon!#lin beifong #bumi ii #tlok bumi #linumi #avatar the legend of korra #the legend of korra #fanfic prompts #asks #my fanfic

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slowly-writing · 4 years

Text

More Than Okay

Natasha Romanoff x Teen!Reader

Word count: 1.8K

Requested by anons:

- Can I request a Nat x kid!reader where the kid was in foster care and She just recently went to live with Natasha. And it’s taking her a while to warm up but eventually starts calling Nat, mom? Thank you.

- ooh can I request a nat x (adopted)daughter reader where the reader is the kid of a couple that was killed off by a villain because of their powers. avengers and reader don’t know she has powers mostly because they’ve never shown. they finally find out when said villain comes back for reader by attacking avengers and her powers burst out of her unexpectedly and she saves them all?? thinking something of a mix between Wanda’s and Thor’s powers. thank you, love your writing so much!!

- Nat's daughter telling her she doesn't wanna be a shield agent/superhero.

Your parents didn’t work for the avengers but they were avenger-adjacent. They worked with them on multiple occasions. Your parents had powers and they fought to keep the city safe as best they could. They just hid their identities and stayed out of the public eye as much as possible while doing it. They had a child after all, and their main priority was keeping you safe. Unfortunately no secret ever stays hidden forever.

You remember that night vividly. You had woken up in the middle of the night, your throat was so dry that it was hard to breathe. You quietly made your way downstairs to the kitchen, not wanting to wake your parents, but what you saw still haunts you to this day. There were dozens of men in masks fighting with your parents. The walls were broken and crumbling around you, you feared the entire house would collapse soon.

“Y/n, run!” Your father screamed. You hesitated for a split second, wanting to stay to help but you knew there was nothing you could do. They were the ones with powers and they were clearly losing. If their last wish was to keep you safe you’d grant them that, no matter how much you’d rather stay with them and share their fate.

You ran, forgoing about the door and slipping through a crack in the wall. You looked over your shoulder, relieved to see that nobody was following you. Instead you saw a sword pierce your mother’s chest. To this day you could still hear her cries of pain, but she didn’t look scared. She had simply nodded to you, a clear side she wanted you to keep going. So you did, until you got to the one place you knew was safe.

xxxxx

When you arrived at the avengers compound hours later you were exhausted and you knew you looked awful. The sun was starting to rise, showing the tear tracks cutting through the blood and dirt from various falls, your still bare feet cut and bruised, and your pajamas torn in various places. Steve was the first to see you, as he was up first for an early run. He didn’t say anything, simply brought you inside and led you to the common room. He walked off as you sat on the couch, glancing around the room you’d only seen a handful of times when visiting with your parents. You felt tears well up in your eyes again at the thought of them. You stared down at your hands in your lap, not wanting to see the room full of memories.

When Steve returns he has a first aid kit and Natasha in tow. She knows you the best out of any of the avengers, having been close with your parents.

“Hey, do you wanna talk about what happened?” Natasha's voice is soft and comforting which gives you the courage to look up, as soon as she sees the tears she knows whatever happened was nothing good. You shake your head and she pulls you into her arms. “That’s alright. We don’t have to talk right now. Is it okay if Steve and I clean you up? You’ve got some pretty nasty cuts,” she waits for your nod before motioning for Steve to pass her the first aid kit.

xxxxx

That had been over a year ago and things were still rocky. Tony has given you a room in the compound and that’s where you spent most of your time. While all the avengers cared for you, and you for them, you rarely opened up to them. The events that happened were the worst memories you had, and you didn’t want to share the most painful parts of your life with people who were practically strangers. You’d send a small smile in Peter’s direction at school and sit in on movie nights, but heart to hearts were unheard of amongst the majority of the team. You were content to be the quiet girl nobody truly knew. Well nobody aside from Natasha. You had a few conversations with her and you’ve unpacked the whole event with your therapist, but nobody else knows the details of what happened that night, and you planned to keep it that way.

“Hey y/n, wanna go shopping with us?” Clint asks you as you walk through the kitchen after school.

“No thank you,” your response is quiet and he nods, having expected as much. He always makes an effort though.

“Alright, have a good afternoon.” With that he leaves the kitchen and you head towards the living room. Bruce and Tony are on a mission and Steve always joins Clint to go grocery shopping, it’s the only way to make sure we have more than junk food. That only leaves you and Natasha in the compound so you don’t feel the need to hide.

You sit on the floor by the coffee table, pulling out your homework with a sigh. You’re debating if you want to get your chemistry over with or get some work done on your creative writing story when you hear Natasha entering the room.

“How was school?” Her voice comforts you. It’s calming. Drastically different from the bickering and teasing the boys normally throw around.

“It was fine,” you say simply, turning around to face her as she sits on the couch behind you. Anyone else would’ve taken your short response as a sign that you didn’t want to be talking to them, that’s probably why Natasha was the only one you talked to. While Steve was technically your legal guardian you only had brief interactions with him. They never told you for sure, but you’re pretty sure the only reason it wasn’t Natasha was because she’s in America on sketchy terms and some of her missions prior to her days as an avenger could probably be classified as treason. It was best to keep her out of the mandatory background check that came with fostering a kid. You didn’t need anybody else digging into her past.

“Still dreading that chemistry homework I see,” you follow her gaze to where your textbook is pushed away and you laugh a bit.

“It’s so hard. And I don’t need it anyways! I want to be an English teacher. I don’t need to know chemistry,” you tell her and it’s her turn to laugh and place an arm around your shoulder as you flop on the couch next to her.

“You’re right, you don’t need it to teach English. But you do need it to graduate high school so you have to do it eventually. If you need help Tony will be home tomorrow, and I think Peter is coming over tonight to do some training. He’d be more than happy to help and it’d be good for you to talk to him. Remember what Dr. Tan said-“

“I need to have more interactions with people my own age. I know,” you cut her off, “But how am I even supposed to start that conversation? ‘Hi I’m Y/n- oh you already know that?-oh because I’m Stingray and Rogue’s daughter and their identities got leaked after their murder, right. Yeah I’m super sad they died too.’ Sounds like a delightful conversation to have.”

“I know it’s hard y/n, but Peter is a good place to start. He’s plenty different too and he’s not going to judge you for it,” Natasha’s argument makes sense but before you can respond you hear a crash from the kitchen and you’re grateful for the distraction.

“Is Clint back already?” You ask, pulling away from Natasha and walking towards the kitchen. You freeze in the doorway, seeing the people that have haunted your nightmares for over a year now.

“Y/n? Is everything okay?” Natasha calls but before she gets to you the closest figure charges. You duck out of the way and Natasha takes him out. She starts fighting the men but she’s beyond outnumbered. You’re frantically looking around for somebody to help, but it’s just the two of you. When you look back you see a man charging her with a sword, just like last year.

“Mom, look out!” you scream as you flail your arm in the attacker’s direction. Before Natasha can try to dodge him he’s thrown back and he’s seizing. You glance at your hands seeing a mist sparking with electricity surrounding your fingers. You don’t have time to overthink it as all the intruders’ attention turns to you. You zero in on the closest one and send a pulse of electricity in his direction. You repeat the process until they’re all on the floor. At that moment shield agents and the rest of the team come flooding in, FRIDAY having notified them of the break in.

“Holy shit,” Clint says and you look between him and your hands, eyes wide in fear.

“Did you do that?” Steve asks and you swallow hard before nodding. “You could be a good addition to the team.”

“You really could. Pulse you’re a legacy, what with your parents and everything,” an agent says and your breathing starts to speed up. Everything's happening so fast. There’s too much and you’re starting to spiral. You’re about to run when Natasha steps in front of you.

“Let’s go somewhere a bit more quiet, okay?” she offers and you nod, desperate for an escape. You both walk in silence until you’re in your room and sitting next to each other on the bed. “Did you know you could do that?”

“No! I swear I didn’t. I would’ve told you, I promise I-”

“Hey,” Natasha cuts off your rambling, placing a calming hand on your shoulder. “I’m not mad. I just want us to get on the same page. We need to figure out what this means and start training you.”

“I don’t want to be an agent,” you say bluntly. “I’m sorry. I know I should want to help people. It's the right thing to do, it’s what my parents would want me to do but I just can’t”

“That’s fine. You don't owe anyone anything and if you don’t want to use your powers then that’s okay. We do need to do some training though. Just to make sure you’re in control of them, but we don’t have to tell anyone outside of the team if you don’t want to,” Natasha promises and you nod, throwing yourself into her arms as you sigh in relief.

“Thank you,” you whisper and you feel her sigh this time.

“There’s one more thing. You called me mom in there. I know that was all probably really mentally draining and I have no idea what kind of memories it triggered. I know it was an accident but-” it’s your turn to cut her off.

“It wasn’t an accident. I know you’re not legally my mom, but you’re the one who stepped up. I don’t even want to think about what would’ve happened to me if you weren’t there. I get it if it’s not okay with you, but I think of you as my mom,” you explain, wringing your hands as you wait for her response.

“It’s more than okay with me,” Natasha tells you, placing a hand over yours.

Tag List: @rvgrsbrns @rororo06 @prizmix-and-friends @worlds-in-words @im-salt-but-not-salty @5aftermidnight @riotmaximoff

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be11atrixthestrange · 3 years

Text

Malfoy Manor

Another sneakpeak from Completely Mental Chapter 11!

Malfoy Manor

“Take these prisoners down to the cellar, Greyback.”

“Wait,” said Bellatrix sharply. “All except...except for the Mudblood.”

Greyback gave a grunt of pleasure.

“No!” shouted Ron. “You can have me, keep me!”

Bellatrix hit him across the face; the blow echoed around the room.

“If she dies under questioning, I’ll take you next,” she said. “Blood traitor is next to Mudblood in my book.”

“HERMIONE!” Ron bellowed, and he started to writhe and struggle against the ropes tying them together, so that Harry staggered. “HERMIONE!”

“Be quiet!” Harry said. “Shut up, Ron, we need to work out a way —”

“HERMIONE! HERMIONE!”

“We need a plan, stop yelling — we need to get these ropes off —-”

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

“How is she?” asked Harry as he approached Ron, who had collapsed in the hallway with his back against the wall. Ron’s head had sunk into his hands and his knees were crossed; his lanky legs gave him the appearance of a dead, crumpled-up spider. Harry had never seen him like this before and was reminded of a distraught Hermione last year, crying over a poisoned Ron in the hospital wing.

Harry slid onto the floor next to Ron and rested a hand on his shoulder. To Harry’s surprise, Ron didn’t shake it away or flinch under his touch, but settled into the comfort. The overwhelming grief that Harry had just been feeling for Dobby started to dissipate, replaced with concern for his best friend.

“She’s okay,” mumbled Ron. “At least Bill and Fleur think she will be.”

Harry sighed in relief, and felt unshed tears stinging his own eyes. He hadn’t let himself think of the possibility that she might not be okay, because he only had room to grieve one death at a time. In addition to the piercing pain of losing Dobby, he wouldn’t have been able to handle it if something had happened to Hermione too.

“Why aren’t you in there?” asked Harry. He knew Ron wanted to be.

“Fleur’s helping her change,” he answered. “I figured she’d want some privacy.”

Harry nodded. “Is she awake?”

Ron shrugged, causing Harry’s hand to rise and fall over his shoulder. He squeezed it harder. “Sort of.”

Harry nodded again, dread pooling into his stomach. There was one particular thing that concerned Harry the most about Hermione’s torture, and he didn’t have to ask Ron to elaborate.

“She’s alive, Ron,” he reiterated.

“I know,” he signed. “By some crazy stroke of luck.”

“You saved her life.”

Ron shook his head. “Dobby saved her life.”

Harry paused. He didn’t want to be reminded of Dobby and the grave that he had yet to dig. He wasn’t even sure if Ron yet knew that Dobby was dead, and if he didn’t, this was probably not the time to tell him.

“And you,” said Harry, keeping the conversation away from Dobby. “You apparated her out of there. You kept your cool when Bellatrix was about to kill her. If it wasn’t for you she’d be—“

“Don’t say it.”

Harry nodded and stopped. He didn’t want to say it either. Dead. He forced himself to feel grateful that she wasn’t dead, but it was hard. Dobby was, and Hermione might not fully come back. And if she didn’t, neither Ron nor Harry would ever recover.

“She’s alive. We’ve still got her.” It sounded like an attempt at trying to convince himself, and he hoped it wasn’t evident to Ron.

“What if she’s not the same?” asked Ron, finally expressing what they were both afraid to say.

“She will be,” said Harry, feigning confidence.

Ron shook his head. “She might not. You’ve seen Neville’s parents.”

Dread filled Harry again. He couldn’t stand the thought of Hermione spending a lifetime at St. Mungo’s and not remembering their names.

“That won’t happen,” said Harry, but his voice was shaky and unconvincing.

Ron leaned his head back against the wall and Harry finally got a glimpse of his red, tear-streaked face. “I’ll still love her, you know.”

Harry smiled softly, and tears finally let loose from his own eyes. “I know you will,” he said. “I will too.”

They were interrupted by the hallway door cracking open. Fleur popped her head out and looked at Ron. “She’s awake, and she’s asking for you.”

With a final tentative glance at Harry, who gave a reassuring nod, Ron rose to his feet, took a deep breath and entered the room, the door closing quietly behind him.

#ROMIONE #romione fanfic #harry and ron brotp #romione ficlet #Ron Weasley #Ron and Hermione #ron x hermione #Hermione Granger

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tallstars-rewrite · 3 years

Text

Chapter 25

chapter list / previous / next

Tallpaw was the first to leave. Woollycloud’s story came back to him. Sandstone was still here, under the moor somewhere. Tallpaw never understood all his life what his clanmates meant when they said their lost ones were still with them. They were so far away. But for just a brief moment, even if it was probably in his head, he started to feel it. Sandstone was looming over his shoulder now, watching him sit there next to his mother and wallow. How could he do this to him again? The longer Tallpaw stayed there with her, the more he wanted to succumb to the despair that pulled him down, down to where she was, where the time would slip by as he lay there wasting away. That was what his father meant when he said that dwelling on your emotions never did any cat good. Palebird couldn’t help him.

Tallpaw gritted his teeth. Of course Palebird couldn’t help him, it had always been his father, not his mother, telling him where to put his paws. Now that he felt more unsure than ever of every movement, he was willing to let anything create a clear path for him. It didn’t matter how afraid he was, or how heavy his feet felt with each paw placed in front of the next. He needed to start doing what was best for the whole clan. And in that moment, there was only one clear choice.

As Tallpaw looked out over the moor on his quiet trek back to camp, he couldn’t remember what it had felt like on that first day with Dawnstripe. The wonder of the world stretching out, or the breeze catching his whiskers and pulling him along, light as a feather. He saw frivolities that he should never have indulged in. There were many cats who would run the moor, and do a much better job of it than he ever could. But there was another place to fill now, and he had to finally stop being so selfish and do what he should have done from the start. The open moor was never really his, and it was unfair to Dawnstripe to waste her time training a hopeless apprentice. But how do I go about telling them?

Hawkheart called him to his den as soon as he arrived back at camp. He answered the usual barrage of questions. It was just another set of motions they both had to go through. “Did any of the wounds reopen?”

“No.”

“Any additional pain?”

“No.” Well, that one was a bit of a lie, but it didn’t matter.

“Have you started feeling feverish or hotter than normal?”

“No.”

“Good, now wait here for a moment and then you can get out of my fur and back to your own nest.”

As Hawkheart went to the back of his den, to Tallpaw’s surprise, it was Briarpaw who approached him. The medicine cat apprentice looked worried, which Tallpaw supposed was a little better than stricken or blank, as he usually looked as of late. Briarpaw sniffed at him.

“You weren’t lying about the pain, were you?” he asked. Why did Briarpaw always have to be good at catching him on that?

“You don’t have to worry about me," was all Tallpaw said. It was true, he didn’t want to fuss over a bit of pain, but he also didn’t want Briarpaw to feel obligated to care for him after what had happened.

“It is my job to be concerned...I need to return to it. You seem troubled. I suppose that doesn’t take much intuition...” Briarpaw gave a small humorless laugh. “Who isn’t troubled? Nearly all the clan knows the pain of losing a parent, but...are you alright? You look...distracted.”

“I’m going to ask Heatherstar to let me train as a tunneler instead.” Now that Tallpaw had said it out loud, it felt more real. He was sure now, at least he told himself he was. It was the only right thing to do.

To his surprise, Briarpaw nearly jumped back and stared at him with wide, fearful eyes. “You’re...b-but why? I thought you’d taken so well to moor running. It seemed to make you happy!”

“There are more important things. Tunneling is my legacy.” Tallpaw replied firmly.

“But...this is surely a rash decision--n-not that I’m saying you can’t make your own choices of course. I’m only suggesting...maybe you should think about it before telling Heatherstar.”

Tallpaw was taken aback by the sudden pitch of Briarpaw’s voice. Hawkheart returned with a bundle of herbs. He caught Briarpaw’s gaze, and some wordless agreement passed between them because Briarpaw simply gulped and said “It’s your choice, of course...” He didn’t say anymore as he helped Hawkheart chew the leaves into a pulp to slather on Tallpaw’s scrapes.

The injury from the tunnel was probably going to leave a scar across his shoulders. Tallpaw was almost glad of it. He wanted a reminder. Once he left, feeling Briarpaw’s anxious gaze on his back the whole way, he tracked down Dawnstripe and Woollycloud. They should know first.

“You look a little more perked up today,” Dawnstripe said encouragingly when they sat down. “I hope you were able to find some peace in the ceremony..”

“I think I have.” Perhaps peace was not exactly what he felt, but at least he felt a drive.

“So what is this about?” Woollycloud asked.

Dread started to creep up Tallpaw’s spine at the commitment he was about to make, but he shoved it down. He needed to do this. He took a breath, “I want to become a tunneler.”

Dawnstripe and Woollycloud both blinked at him, clearly startled.

Woollycloud spoke first. “But...you don’t like tunneling at all. What could have changed?”

“This is what I was born to do.” Tallpaw forced himself to sound confident “I want to follow in my father’s footsteps. It was what he wished for me. After everything...I don’t think I could run on the moor again and feel right. I will get past my fear, and you could teach me!”

He hoped Woollycloud would seem excited, but he wore more sadness on his face than enthusiasm. “Tallpaw...I want you to decide your future for the right reasons. You can’t only tunnel for your father's sake.”

“I promise I want this!” Tallpaw pressed, “I must try.” He turned to Dawnstripe, who seemed unsure of what to say, and bowed his head. “I couldn’t have asked for a better mentor. You have done so much to teach me, and I won’t forget anything. I loved our training sessions together, but I’m not meant to run on the moors. I feel like StarClan is telling me that I’ve been hiding from my real path. You deserve an apprentice who can truly live up to your skills.”

“You’ve only ever made me proud, Tallpaw,” Dawnstripe said. “I’ve always believed you could become whatever you wanted to be. If you stop, I can’t deny I’ll miss having you as my apprentice. But this is your path, and if you truly feel called...I won’t be the one to forbid you from it.”

She looked up at Woollycloud, who still seemed hesitant and unconvinced. Tallpaw willed the tunneler to agree, to just give him another chance to prove himself. He needed another chance.

“I think this conversation should be had with the leader. This is...a bit unexpected.” Woollycloud said.

Together they went to find Heatherstar, who was just leaving her den. She had been speaking with Hawkheart, who gave Tallpaw a brief look before returning to his den. All three cats dipped their heads respectfully to their leader.

“Good morning,” Heatherstar said, nodding to Tallpaw and Woollycloud. “I’m glad to see the two of you on your paws again. Is there something you need?”

“There is,” Tallpaw said. No timidness, no hesitation. This was the final step. He would force himself to do this if he had to. “Heatherstar, I….” His tail curled anxiously around his back paw. Spit it out. Just say it. “I want to talk to you about training as a tunneler. Some cat needs to try and fill my father’s place, and I know I never can exactly but...I want to try.”

Heatherstar looked at him in quiet surprise, and then over to Dawnstripe, who only nodded. “I’m willing to do what you agree is best.”

Heatherstar hummed, and Tallpaw could see the discomfort in her eyes. “Well...Tallpaw, I understand fully why you want to do this. But I don’t think I can allow it.”

Tallpaw felt his fur begin to bristle “What? But, you said that you’d allow me to change my training later if I decided to! I have to do this Heatherstar, my father always wished for Woollycloud to be my mentor.” When he raised his voice, several cats in camp began to stir from their quiet conversations and morning naps.

“Circumstances have changed since then.” Heatherstar said.

“I can do it,” Tallpaw insisted “I know I messed up last time I tried to tunnel, but it was only the first time. I didn’t know what to expect, but I do now!”

“It’s not just that Tallpaw,” Heatherstar said calmly. “It has nothing to do with your potential ability.”

“Did I hear that right?” came Crowfur’s voice. A couple cats were starting to inch closer. “Tallpaw is interested tunneling now?”

Hazelnose looks anxious “But should we take more young cats to be tunnelers while so many of our systems are so unstable? Woollycloud, you said that yourself, didn’t you?”

Woollycloud looked from Hazelnose to Tallpaw and sighed. “It’s...true. This has come on a bit quickly...Heatherstar may be right. I don’t know if it’s a good time.”

“But it has to be now!” Tallpaw began to feel frantic. “I can’t wait around for moons more! If you can do it, so can I!”

“Tallpaw, I must be honest with you, I don’t know if I’m in a good place to take an apprentice. With everything that has happened recently....” he trailed off, his gaze drifting down. “I’m not confident I can give you my full attention.”

“T-then some other cat. Crowfur perhaps.”

Heatherstar raised a paw for attention. “No, I’m afraid that won’t be necessary. I suppose now that we have so much of the clan's attention anyway...There is something I have been needing to discuss.”

She leaped up onto the meeting rock and called for the clan's attention. It didn’t take long, and most had come out of their nests at the commotion already. “I have conferred with my council,” Heatherstar announced. “This is not an easy decision to make, but there must be a change in WindClan. Our skilled tunnelers have been part of our clan for countless moons, and WindClan owes much of our past prosperity to them. But our territory has changed. The ground has become weaker in many areas. Our ambition to expand below has started to create unrest with the other creatures on the moor we depend on. And worse, the amount of accidents and loss we’ve experienced weighs heavily on us all. Our land is a gift to us, and we cannot demand too much from it. And so, I have made the decision that tunneling as an official rank must be abolished. WindClan will not pursue complex tunneling projects any longer.”

Tallpaw stared up at her, mouth agape. “N-no. No, you can’t do this! I need to be able to do this!” he looked towards the elders, "You can't have agreed to this!"

Flintfoot looked impassive, he'd expect as much from the old moor runner. But Whitetooth sat with his proud old shoulders hunched, gray eyes clouded with grief.

Fennelpelt just shook his head sadly. "We had the same meeting last time this happened. We hoped for better outcomes then too, and now... we cannot deny it any longer."

“I’m sorry, Tallpaw." Heatherstar said, "We have a choice, and we must carefully weigh the benefits of an old tradition against the costs. I cannot in good conscience choose the former. You will continue your training as you have been.”

“You can’t get rid of the tunnels!” Plumclaw cried “Tunneling is our life! T-the plans that Sandstone made--”

“Heatherstar is right.” Hazelnose said. “The project can’t be done. It was a dream, but all our attempts to plan proved dangerous.”

“What do you know!” Plumclaw snapped

“I know as much as you do! I value our skills, but we’re asking too much.”

Crowfur glared at his son “You’ve always been a tunneler, how could this have changed?”

Hazelnose sounded bolder than he ever had before “It changed when I knew I’d have kits, and I had to think about what kind of life they’d lead and how safe it was. Mistmouse agrees with me. The more we push our projects, the more dangerous it becomes. I don’t want to risk my kit's lives doing something that we can find other ways to do. I cared for Sandstone as much as any of the tunnelers, he was the best of us--and if even he could be caught in such an accident...We must accept that what he wanted was too much. Let us not lose anymore than we have.”

To Tallpaw’s horror he heard voices of agreement from all around. He looked desperately at Woollycloud. “Woollycloud, you must say something! W-WindClan’s legacy--”

But Woollycloud’s defeated look said everything. He simply looked away with a heavy sigh.

“This decision is final.” Heatherstar called out. “WindClan will never forget our burrowing skills, we will keep the short tunnels that serve as escape routes from predators on the open moor, but we cannot split ourselves into opposing groups anymore. We must be one clan, and share our skills, not divide ourselves into factions. Tunnel running and patrolling long stretches underground takes too much time and risk to maintain. Without those long tunnels to keep, there’s no point in designating tunneling as a separate rank. From today, no cat is permitted to go down into the tunnel systems while the wet weather remains. And when the ground dries, the longest and unstable tunnels must be abandoned and have their entrances blocked. Tunnelers will be assigned normal patrols with the moor runners rather than going on separate missions. That is all. This meeting is finished.”

Tallpaw sat there in shock. Heatherstar had hardly allowed any debate. It was exactly as his father had feared, and he didn’t know what to say to stop it.

He hardly noticed Woollycloud coming to sit beside him. “I understand your feelings perhaps better than any cat. I have lost loved ones to the tunnels but...I always wanted to go on, in their name. I thought it was what they would have wanted. If they were still here, they may have the chance to agree to this change. But they aren’t, and that’s just the problem. Even if it feels wrong, perhaps the best way to uphold their memory is to make sure old mistakes and accidents can’t be repeated. Stone Claws and his children prided themselves on their ability to adapt to new threats. Perhaps this is how we must adapt again.”

Dawnstripe brushed her tail against him. “I’m sorry you’re disappointed, Tallpaw. I understand, but you must continue your training with me. You’re an excellent runner, and you will make your clan proud. What more could your father have wanted?”

He wanted so much more…

“What can I do?” Tallpaw’s voice was hollow. “It can never be better now. I've already failed...”

“Tallpaw…” Dawnstripe began, but he turned away from her.

“I need to go.”

Without further explanation he ran from camp, ignoring Woollycloud and Dawnstripe’s voices calling after him. How could this have happened? If he hadn’t gotten scared in those tunnels, Heatherstar wouldn’t have started considering shutting them down. If he hadn’t messed them up, maybe they wouldn’t have been so unstable when Sandstone went in for all he knew! Everything was falling apart. Heatherstar and Dawnstripe and Woollycloud all looked at him with such pity. Pity he didn’t deserve They’ll let you get away with it, but never forget how this has hurt me. Sandstone snarled in his ear. His paws thudded against the ground and he heard his father's outraged growl continue. You just let her do this. Everything is ruined now. Everything we ever hoped for.

He couldn’t stand it. He ran without direction. He thought he knew how he could repair this horrible pain, or at least how he could make it lessen but now...now there was no chance of relief. Tallpaw was running through open air and still felt like he was suffocating underground.

He slowed his run to a fast walk, and found himself heading north. Did he want to go back to the burrows? No. He needed some relief from this, to get it out of his head if only for the briefest of moments, before it crushed him completely. His paws directed him to the treeline. Jake? How could he think to look for Jake now? Dawnstripe was probably right behind him. But Tallpaw couldn’t think about that right now. He just wanted to be anywhere else but WindClan. Even the blistering wind itself picked up suddenly, whipping at his ears, as if scolding him. He had never felt so exposed and helpless on the moor before. He needed to go as far as he could reasonably allow himself to go--and right now, to Jake was all he could manage. What would he even say to him? Probably nothing. Jake would be able to tell he was upset, Tallpaw would decline talking about it, so the barn cat would start rambling aimlessly about a bird he saw that day or a really great beetle he found. And Tallpaw would be fine with listening to him ramble about anything if it succeeded in distracting him even a little. Just for a moment. A moment was all he needed.

But the wind blew a scent towards Tallpaw that stopped him dead in his tracks. A short dark brown tabby stood some fox lengths ahead. Tallpaw had been so oblivious of his surroundings he hadn’t smelled Shrewpaw until he almost ran into him. He would have given his former friend a wide berth if he’d known. The bristling apprentice wasn’t supposed to be out here alone, but then, neither was Tallpaw. He had not so much as smelled Shrewpaw since Brackenwing died.

Shrewpaw just glared at him through narrowed cold yellow eyes. That sharp hatred shot another claw of guilt into Tallpaw’s chest. For a moment, he wondered if he’d be attacked again, but Shrewpaw didn’t come closer.

“W-what are you doing out here?” Tallpaw didn’t know why he bothered asking, what Shrewpaw did was hardly his concern anymore.

Shrewpaw held his glare. “Don’t feel like being hounded by my mentor right now. Probably the same as you. Unless you’re just running away again for good this time?”

“No. No, I was just--”

“Looking for that kittypet?”

Tallpaw stared at him and anxiously wound his tail around his back feet. “What? H-how do you--”

“Briarpaw and I both saw you half a moon ago. What a shock to see you not doing what you were supposed to be doing and running off. You didn’t always get the kittypet stench off completely when you came back. Briarpaw didn’t want you to get in trouble, and I guess I liked you enough back then, so we didn’t say anything. Figured it didn’t matter if it wasn’t technically on the territory. Not that I care what happens to you.”

Tallpaw wasn’t in the mood for a fight. He turned to walk around him.

“That kittypet’s gone anyway, you know.” Shrewpaw called after him.

Tallpaw turned back. “What are you talking about?”

“It was the mouse-brained orange one, wasn’t it? I saw him poke his nose past the treeline. I was going to chase him off, because I don’t make friends with twoleg pets. But a monster stopped on the side of the road and a twoleg climbed out of its belly. The stupid kittypet went right up to it, and the twoleg picked him up and put him in the monster. Then it took off. So, sorry to say your kittypet probably got fed to the monster. That’s what you get for trusting twolegs.”

“You’re lying.” Tallpaw hissed.

“Why would I bother lying?” Shrewpaw spat. “I was half hoping you’d do us all a favor and go join him. There are less things to mess up being a twoleg play toy at least. It might suit you. Go run all the way to the barn if you want. He’s not there. Hareflight told me nearly all the cats born there disappear eventually. But by all means, go see for yourself. Get yourself into all the trouble you want. I’m not going to protect you anymore.”

“I never needed you to protect me!” Tallpaw hissed. He couldn’t help it. “You just decided that I should be treated like a kit because it made you look better in comparison! If you leave me alone from now on, it would be the best thing you’ve ever done for me!”

Tallpaw started to run without giving Shrewpaw a chance to respond. He kept going to the trees, but then turned in the direction of the Thunderpath. Shrewpaw had to be lying to upset him. He opened his jaws to taste the air as soon as he’d touched the shade of the woods. He caught Jake’s scent. It was recent. He followed it through the bushes, noting small clumps of long orange fur caught on sharp sticks and brambles. Dreadful certainty began to rest in his belly the closer Jake’s trail went to the Thunderpath. It always stunk of monsters, but behind the sharp acrid smell was unmistakably what he’d been taught to recognize as twoleg. And Jake’s trail ended. Tallpaw stood staring at the empty black stone path. Of course Shrewpaw hadn’t been lying. Why would he? He would be ecstatic if Tallpaw ran off to share Jake’s fate. Could a cat even survive being in the belly of those stinking monsters? He couldn’t even imagine it. Tallpaw wanted to wail in despair.

There was nothing here for him. He was alone. For a while he paced as the cloud cover overhead began to darken the sky. Small drops of rain dribbled through his thin coat, stinging the dried poultice covering his scars. He couldn’t be bothered to shake them off. He listened to the wind begin to howl as it carried in heavy clouds, imagining Sandstone’s growl in the distant rumble of thunder. Of course Tallpaw was trying to run away. He should never have come here. Should never have spoken to Jake. This is what he got for it.

Down the Swift Step Hills, Tallpaw found himself back at the muddy clearing where the collapsed burrows lay. He hardly even knew what he was doing anymore as the angry dark sky roared above and opened up a downpour on top of him, turning the soil to sucking mud. He was digging. Digging as fast as he could with no direction.

Some part of him knew this was irrational, but the urge had taken control anyway, insisting that maybe maybe the others just hadn’t dug far enough, maybe there was a pocket in the earth, maybe Sandstone wasn’t even gone! Or at least if he could find him, find whatever was left, then his spirit could be free. Sandstone wouldn’t be trapped on the ground, wouldn’t have to wander unrested and angry. Tallpaw couldn’t get away from the image of his infuriated gaze.

“I’ll make it up to you, I’ll find some way to help,” he said under his breath, already panting from the effort. “Just tell me what to do, I’ll listen this time. I promise I’ll listen!”

His paws squelched into the earth, he was aimlessly tearing up the shallow ground and every pawful scooped out was immediately replaced with oozing mud. But then his claws hit something more solid that squished under his paws. His breath caught in his throat when he saw matted fur, and he thought for a hazy second he’d found what he was looking for, and he yanked it up without thinking as it gave way. Tallpaw shrieked so loud he hurt his throat at what he’d snagged in his claw. Under the mud was a misshapen furry face attached loosely to a small filthy rotted corpse, leftover from the abandoned warren. Probably a rabbit, but it was so decomposed it was almost hard to tell. Half of it left behind in the mud, the frail body tore with sickening ease. Its eyes were sunken in, indistinguishable from the dark muck, and earthworms crawled through its fur. Tallpaw flailed, shaking mud from his paw, hardly even aware he was still yowling until he heard Dawnstripe calling over him.

“Tallpaw!” Dawnstripe’s voice made his heart sink. She’d found him after all. “Tallpaw, you can’t be here! You must come back with me.”

Tallpaw finally looked down at himself. Standing in a pit of mud, soaking wet, dripping poultice, scared senseless out of his fur at the sight of old buried crow-food. He looked up at her pathetically, and he saw the depth of her concern. I wonder if she thinks I'm losing it, Tallpaw thought dimly. He wondered too. Could grief do that to a cat? He spent a long time staring at the muddied ground, while Dawnstripe tried to coax him out. She insisted they had to get back to camp, the coming storm would be bad and they needed to take shelter. Tallpaw would have preferred to just stand there through it. The prospect of going back to camp to sit with his thoughts and hide was awful. But, he thought, what does it matter how awful it feels?

What exactly happened if a cat was so weighed with grief they couldn't stand anymore? They broke. Maybe he’d broken. An image of his mother flashed through his mind. Her empty eyes, her distant voice, her frame thin and frail. How she couldn’t bear to get up most days. And with his paws sunk into the dirt, he heard his fathers disapproving snarl and flinched. You're going to become like her after all? Another promise broken. The water soaking in the mud let him see a faint dark smudgy outline of his reflection. Dripping and miserable. If he tried to go on like this, he might as well bury himself here and now. He wasn’t strong enough to detangle this grief. But...maybe he didn’t have to deal with it. If he couldn’t cure it, maybe he could just turn it all off and walk forward like this, a husk with claws. Claws were all that was needed for their borders, right? However broken he was, he could pick up the pieces in his jaws and make himself keep going anyway. A new resolve planted itself deep inside, one that would cover up everything else. Tallpaw looked up to his mentor again.

“Ok Dawnstripe,” he said.

“O-ok?” she was taken aback by how calm he sounded.

“I’m coming. I’ll go back with you.”

He silently let Dawnstripe herd him out of the pit and followed her through the pouring rain. He sensed the discomfort in his mentor as her tail swished. Surely it was too easy… Well, Tallpaw would make it that easy. She was stuck with him, but he vowed not to trouble her for it anymore.

Every paw step didn’t feel like his own. But as long as he was moving them, he didn’t need to feel better. That was what his father had been trying to teach him. It was ridiculous of him to be out there trying to placate his grief when such a thing was impossible and pointless.

He would do his duties, like every cat else. He let the grief that wound tight around his chest like thorns get pounded down by the heavy rain, and focused on the new burning feeling in his belly. That’s what he would do. He would make himself dangerous. And then he’d know how to make up for his weakness before. Action, Sandstone had said. That’s all he would think of. That was how the dead were best respected. Tallpaw would just keep walking and doing as his mentor and his clan asked. Perhaps seeing that small bit of usefulness could help Sandstone find peace. And perhaps it is for the best, he thought, that I've lost so many cats all at once. I can’t make my problems into their problems. They don’t need to be troubled with me anymore. No one does.

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#cw depression #cw dead animal #cw decompisition #theres another rotten animal description #chapter 25 #FRU25

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zoradementio · 3 years

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Deltarune Theories and Observations Part 2

Since it’s been like three weeks and this game still hasn’t left my god damn brain, here’s some more things that I felt like noting or theorizing.

~Parallels of Noelle and Kris~

So, I ended my last Deltarune longpost with a comparison between Kris and Susie. But, interestingly enough, Kris and Noelle also have a lot of similarities. Both of them have an older sibling figure who was a very prominent crutch in their lives (Asriel for Kris, Dess for Noelle). Yet, in present times, this elder sibling is not present (though Dess’ is a bit more permanent, whether she died or went missing.) And compared to these older siblings, Kris and Noelle are the more introverted sibling, with Kris barely having a social life until the start of the game and Noelle being the biggest pushover since a card tower. Then, there’s their parental dynamics. Asgore and Rudy are both the carefree, laidback father figures, with Asgore immediately throwing Kris in a bear hug when seeing them and Rudy encouraging Noelle to ask Susie out and playing Dragon Blazers with her. This contrasts with the more proper, if strict mother figures. While Noelle’s mother is certainly the more egregious, if the fact that Noelle would rather stand outside her home’s gates likely for hours on end than to attempt to ‘bother’ her mother during work for a house key, there are a few signs of Toriel being a little strict in some areas. Apart from some dialogue from Bratty about her kissing Asriel and anything involving the big school dance being signs that Toriel does not approve of her kids, or any of her students for that matter, getting into anything even remotely romantic, the flavor text for the closet in Kris’ Dark World room being ‘You could wear whatever you want’ suggests that Toriel imposes some sort of a dress code on Kris and likely also Asriel when he was living at home. They’re also the two characters most susceptible to the SOUL, in other words you the player. Kris’ is a bit more direct, as they are the character we control in both their movements and what they say. While Noelle, considering she has such a weak will, she is fairly mailable if we impose our will onto her, as demonstrated in the Pipis Route. Finally, they both have a strong attachment towards Susie, though whether Kris’ is romantic or not is not entirely clear as of yet. Oh, and speaking of Noelle...

~The Return of Noelle~

In at least one of the future chapters, I believe Noelle will make a come back as a party member. I don’t think Toby Fox would make it this easy to just lose whatever equipment you put on her, especially if you give her the Jevilstail or if the Pipis Route has been fully completed you will lose a component of the Twisted Sword, which will presumably be available in future chapters. Therefore, I believe that Noelle will be playable again, at least at some point.

~Misanthropic Dysmorphia~

So, many people have seen the connections that Kris has to Chara (or The Fallen Child) from Undertale. They both love chocolate, are the adopted children of Toriel and Asgore, and seem to have an affinity for knives. But if there is one more connection they have, it’s that they both seem to hate humans. Now, while don’t know the reasons as to why Chara hated humans, it was enough for them to want to slaughter an entire village of people, going overboard with the body count when only 6 souls were needed to break the barrier. While Kris likely isn’t as genocidal as Chara was, their distaste for humanity runs just as deep. However, Kris’ misanthropy manifests as a form of body dysmorphia. As a child, they wondered when their horns would grow in like their brother and parents, showing that, at least at that point Kris didn’t understand the biological differences between themself and those around them. Not only that, but in Chapter 2, when going upstairs in the library and reading the book ‘How to Care for Humans’, when looking at the pages Kris immediately closes the book when seeing the pictures of humans in seeming disgust. It wouldn’t be too much of a surprise if Kris hates the fact that they’re human, seeing as that is the big thing that makes them an outsider to Hometown. It would also explain why they seem to hate the SOUL/Player, even if you play as pacifistically as possible and don’t do anything to intentionally upset Kris like throwing away the Ball of Junk in the Light World. After all, Kris’ description in the Dark World as soon as you enter it in Chapter 1 is ‘A body containing a human SOUL’. Apart from just generally being upset that some outside force is controlling their actions, Kris is also likely pissed that a human is the one controlling them, because, assumedly, you or anyone else that plays Deltarune is going to be a human. That could be just some extra salt in the wound, that even Kris’ own soul is not only human but not even their own.

~Darkner’s History(?)~

This is something strange that I don’t think a lot of people think about. So, I notice a lot of people point out that Ralsei knows that both his Dark Fountain and the Fountain from Chapter 1 are located in a supply closet and a classroom respectively. Most people point to this as evidence that Ralsei knows something, however Ralsei isn’t the only one with knowledge of the Light World. Queen does have a line or two about knowing that her Dark World is within a library. So clearly, Darkners have at least some awareness of the Light World, or at least enough about their enclosed spaces and possibly limited to appointed rulers or some such. What isn’t so clear is how long these Dark Worlds have lasted. Sure, portals to the Dark Worlds seem like only a recent thing, there is talk about the history of these characters. Just within Chapter 1 there’s King overthrowing the other three card kings and taking the throne all to himself, Jevil meeting a mysterious figure causing him to go mad and thus needing to be locked up by Seam, a presumably long series of puzzle makers syphoned out before Roulxs became the Duke of Puzzles, and some kind of falling out between Queen and King (which also brings up the question of when and why was Queen’s laptop in the abandoned classroom). My point being, despite these Dark Worlds being open for maybe a day or two at best, there seems to be almost years worth of history to these places. It could be a case of ‘one day passes inside, but only about an hour has passed outside’ thing or it could be that Dark Worlds still technically exists even without a Dark Fountain. So far, though, I can’t offer any concrete answers to this. And actually, since I brought up his suspicious behavior once again...

~Communication Issues~

I already talked about how Ralsei is suspicious in an out-of-universe perspective here, but in universe he is acting rather suspicious. Namely, around Susie. When Kris and Susie return to Castle Town, Ralsei tells Kris to gather everything in the adjacent classroom and bring it here. Everyone becomes their Darkner counterparts and Susie is naturally excited to see everyone, especially Lancer. Ralsei then says, and only says, that ‘when the Dark Fountain was sealed, that area returned to a normal classroom. And when Lancer decides to become one of you KEY ITEMS, Ralsei doesn’t explain that Darkners become regular objects in the Light World, causing Susie to think Lancer ditched them when Kris and Susie leave to work on their group project. And during the Chapter 2 epilogue, Susie even suggests finding a way to bring Ralsei and Lancer into the Light World, despite that seeming to be an impossibility. That’s not even mentioning the post Spamton NEO dialogue where Susie is the first to bring up the oddities of the whole scenario, and Ralsei immediately chooses to shoot down any questioning. Ralsei seemingly keeps Susie out of the loop on a lot of important things about how the Dark World works. Now, Susie doesn’t really question these things, but that’s mostly because 1. she is a very ‘only cares about the here and now’ type of person and is very excited about the whole Dark World shenanigans her, Kris and Ralsei get up to, and 2. this girl is dense enough to not immediately catch on the Noelle is crushing so hard on her a neon sign saying ‘SHE LIKES YOU’ would be a more subtle message. Now, it could be that Ralsei sees Susie in a much more ‘need to know’ basis, that since she is isn’t really the group plan-maker, she doesn’t need to know the intricacies of how the Dark Worlds, the Fountains, and everything works. It also could be that the player, and by extension Kris, are more important and thus will be needed this information more than Susie. However, I still hesitate to say that Ralsei is malicious in action. What I think would be the most likely reason, if his explanation of the Roaring and Queen’s reaction to it are any indication, it looks like Ralsei’s fatal flaw is assuming his knowledge is common knowledge. After all, he assumed that Queen was opening another Dark Fountain because she wanted to destroy the world, when that couldn’t be further from the case. In all likelihood, Ralsei could be overestimating how perceptive Susie really is when it comes to putting details together.

~Only One Ending...?~

This is something a few people have been debating for a while now. Back when Chapter 1 was released in 2018, Toby Fox said that Deltarune would only have one ending. However, with the addition of Chapter 2′s Pipis Route, many of us are wondering if that was a flat out lie or not. My assumption goes one of two ways. Option A: It was true at the time. During the three year development of Chapter 2 a lot, and I mean a LOT, of things about Deltarune have changed. Initially the game was going to be another mostly solo development similar to Undertale. But, with the larger workload and Toby Fox working on other projects like developing music for the Pokemon games, and on top of all of that going through some pretty bad wrist pains, Fox decided to get a small development team for Deltarune. There were debates on whether to switch Deltarune’s game engine to something like Unity, before settling back to Game Maker. And even when Chapter 1 was released, it was more of a proof of concept than anything, with barely any of the rest of the story being written down. It wouldn’t be too much of a surprise if Toby Fox decided to add some more endings because he thought that would work better for what he was going for. Or, Option B: It will be one ending, but in the same way the Normal Ending in Undertale is ‘one ending’. See, while Deltarune likes to emphasize that ‘your choses don’t matter’ and in Undertale ‘your choses do matter’, in actuality, the choses in both games have roughly the same weight. Sure, in Undertale it seems like your choses have more of an impact, but the basic story beats of the game are all the same. You will always fall into the underground, get quasi-adopted by Toriel, go through a wacky puzzle romp with Papyrus, get hunted by Undyne through Waterfall, guest star in Mettaton’s shows with Alphys as your guide, and finally make it to New Home. And there were still some minor questions in Undertale that really had no bearing on what you answered, such as Toriel’s question of if you prefer cinnamon or butterscotch. But because Undertale frames it with ‘your choses matter’ and Deltarune frames it in ‘your choses don’t matter’ we see it as such. So, when it comes to the endings, there really are only three endings in Undertale. The True Genocide ending, where you go all the way through with killing everyone and everything in the Underground, the True Pacifist Ending, where you SPARED everything you came across and completed the necessary friendship side quests, and the Normal Ending. Now, the Normal Ending sounds like a pretty narrow term, considering there’s like at least around 10 different variations of this ending, but the basic plot beats are still the same: You finish the fight with Asgore, fight Omega Flowey, and using the power of the other six souls you (as Frisk) are able to return above ground. Most of what makes this ending different is pretty much flavor text at the very end, with Sans and which ever other characters that are alive/befriended chiming in. I feel like Deltarune’s ending could play out in a similar vein, with larger plot beats being consistent, but specific character’s reactions and what not would change up the ending slightly. And, if we are only given one ending, I feel like there would be a good reason to word it like that. Similarly to what was said some time after on Toby Fox’s twitter about the True Pacifist ending, ‘This is the best ending, nothing more’ when people were wondering if there was a way to save Asriel from his fate in the end. So, if we are told there will be only ‘one ending’ that implies that there’s going to be something we’ll want to change. And what will this change be? Well...

~Don’t Forget, I’m With You In The Dark~

I believe that the ending of Deltarune will involve sealing the Castle Town Fountain. A lot of what’s set up in Deltarune seems to be leading to this. From the suspiciousness of Ralsei, to the premonition of the world ending if too many fountains are open, to the fact that Darkners are unable to consciously interact with the Light World. I’m pretty sure that we’re going to have to say good bye to Ralsei, Lancer, Rouxls, Seam, Queen, and all the rest of the Darkners by the end. And let’s face it, this ending would be the best punch to the gut that the game could offer. But I don’t think it will be all sad. After all, the Darkners will still be with us in spirit, will still be with us in the dark.

#deltarune #deltarune theory

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lloydskywalkers · 4 years

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heLLO i’m so sorry this took so long!! tumblr did not, in fact, eat your ask this time, i just took five years with the response T-T i did very much want to write something about Jay and Cliff (because that’s a criminally underused relationship), but unfortunately season 12 has come out since i wrote All I’m Asking For and kind of...made things...a lot angstier :’( so this leans much more on the angst side than the fluff, but!! there is some in there, i promise

It happens mid-battle, which is never a good time for anything to happen, really, other than a spontaneous victory. If it had happened at any other time, Jay would’ve gone with him. Any other time, he tells himself, he would’ve found the time to talk.

But it’s mid-battle right after Sensei Wu’s gone missing in time, and ironically enough, time is the last thing Jay has on his hands.

It’s not even the worst of battles — just some jerks who actually happen to have too much time and advanced high-grade weaponry on their hands — but it’s enough to send the city’s civilians screaming for cover as another chunk of building comes raining down toward them. Normally Cole would take this kind of thing, since Jay’s more about the agile, dynamic stuff (not because his arms are a whole lot like half-cooked spaghetti noodles next to Cole’s, not at all). But Cole’s on the other side of the city running collateral damage watch with Zane, so Jay’s the only one around to snatch the poor man out of harm’s way before a chunk of concrete squashes him.

“Whoo, that was close,” he breathes out, as dust mushrooms out from the impact nearby. Jay carefully sets the man down, coughing briefly and tugging his mask into place. “You alright?”

The man doesn’t reply, staring at Jay with wide, eerily familiar eyes. “You,” he breathes, as if Jay is some miraculous apparition — which, sure, Jay just saved his life, but like, he’s Jay. He’s a whole two or three inches shorter than this guy, he’s not super impressive.

“You’re the lightning ninja,” the man continues. “You’re — Jay?”

Caught between being pleased he’s recognized and being slightly creeped out, Jay opens his mouth to reply. Then he looks at the guy, actually looks at the guy, and immediately shuts it. And a good thing, too, because Jay’s mouth suddenly goes so dry it kinda feels like a dust vacuum.

“Y-you’re Cliff Gordon,” he manages, on a wheezing kind of whisper. “H-hi. Hi, hello, it’s—”

An honor? Jay’s half-hysterical mind throws at him. What is he supposed to say? Hello, long-lost father who gave me up as a baby, I figured that out, by the way? Does Cliff even know Jay’s his son? Does he even know his name’s Jay? Oh, why oh why has Jay put off acknowledging anything that happened with Nadakhan for this long, just because the entire thing’s a minefield worth of trauma and it makes him wildly nauseous to think about it at all, it doesn’t mean—

“Jay,” Cliff Gordon repeats, his eyes wide and shiny, and Jay’s stomach drops like he’s on a roller coaster. Because the way he says his name — it’s like he knows, it’s like he cares—

“You, uh,” Jay swallows, utterly oblivious to the exploding building two blocks back. “I think…you knew my mom?”

Alright, points for Jay for the lamest segue into this possible, but the beaming, almost-painful smile that splits Cliff’s face at least drowns part of the shame out.

“You could say that,” he murmurs, looking part-overjoyed, part-terrified. “If you know that, then — you must know I’m your — I never meant to lose—”

Cliff cuts off painfully, dragging a hand through his graying hair. Jay vaguely notes the puffs of dust that go drifting off from it, before the awkward silence gets too heavy and his mouth kicks back into action.

“Yeah, kinda…figured that out,” Jay laughs, nervously. “I don’t, um, I’m not mad…? If that’s what you’re worried about, but it’d be uh, nice to…”

“Of course,” Cliff nods fervently, as if he’s somehow psychic and can mind-read the ten thousand words’ worth of questions barraging across Jay’s brain. “Of course, we should talk, there’s so much I need to explain, I—”

Jay’s radio interrupts him in a bursting screech of static, leaving them both wincing.

“Jay, any day you wanna get back in the game, we could use a little help here!”

Kai’s voice is strained, and Jay glances from the battle to his — Cliff — with wild eyes. Cliff shakes his head, waving toward his teammates.

“Go on, go on,” he says, something like pride in his voice. “You’ve got a much more important job to do.” He pauses, his eyes bright and painfully hopeful. “But you’ll — you’ll come and visit me sometime, will you?”

“Yeah,” Jay nods, feeling oddly shaky. “Of course, I’d — I’d really like that.”

Cliff Gordon’s face splits into full smile, and Jay takes that as his cue to leave before he does something hideously embarrassing, like run his mouth or try to — to hug the guy. His eyes catch the bright flash of the Destiny’s Shadow, and he jumps up as Lloyd tilts the plane, Zane reaching a hand out to snag Jay and haul him in.

“Nice timing,” Jay gasps in thanks as he finds his seat, fumbling once with the tight squeeze. “Sorry about the wait.”

Zane simply squeezes his shoulder briefly. “I am merely glad to see you in one piece,” he says, wincing briefly as another explosion goes off. Jay cringes as his eyes rake over the smoking flames. Man, they’re gonna be stuck doing repairs here forever—

“Who was that?”

Jay startles back to himself at Lloyd’s voice, blinking rapidly. He opens his mouth, prepared to unleash a floodgate’s worth of “you’ll never believe this”—

Then stops dead as Zane and Lloyd stare curiously at him, awaiting answer. Jay shuts his mouth, and swallows.

How is he supposed to announce he’s met his father — his second, whole father, in addition to the super great one he already has — to them? To Zane, who barely got any time with his only parent before he died? To Lloyd, who's still actively grieving having lost his only dad for like, the third time? How’s that gonna go over, huh, motormouth?

So Jay shakes his head, forcing an easy laugh instead. “Just some random fan.”

************

He means to follow up right after. He does, really, but everything goes to hell in a handbasket so quickly Jay barely even has time to breath. First it’s the months of searching for Sensei, then it’s guarding the royal family, then they’re on the run, then they’re watching Garmadon brutalize their baby brother on live television and he’s dying on a table and the city’s being destroyed by a giant and the Bounty’s being crushed with them on it and they’re running for their lives in the First Realm and Sensei Wu’s a teenager and—

They’re kind of busy, that’s the point he’s trying to make.

Eventually, there’s a brief spot of time he could go, maybe. It’s right after they’ve returned from the First Realm, though, and that’s...not a great time.

The city’s still stumbling back to its feet, for one, and the loss of the emperor and empress doesn’t exactly help. Their little family’s left stumbling back to its feet even slower, as beaten down and utterly exhausted as they are. The four of them had their own run of it in the First Realm, but Lloyd and Nya didn’t have it any better back in Ninjago, and the whole thing’s just — just a big mess. And sure, maybe reuniting with his long-lost biological father now could like, actually benefit Jay’s half-shredded mental state, since the guy seemed pretty happy to see him, but…

But fathers.

Lloyd still wanders their apartment like a ghost at night, his eyes dull and haunted from whatever night terror he’s been graced with now. He wanders a little bit like that in the day, too, eyes glazing over and hands trembling at times. Jay knows why, of course — they all know, it’s not a secret. Not with the high-definition TV footage that keeps circulating. And they — they try to help, of course, they do their very best, but there are some things only time can fix.

Jay watches Lloyd’s eyes shutter at the mention of his father, and wonders if his entire life is enough to fix whatever’s been broken with his own.

In other words, Jay decides to be a coward.

Ironically enough, however, it ends up being Lloyd that encourages him to go. Not that he realizes that.

“Don’t bother making extra for dinner tonight, Zane,” Lloyd announces wearily, as he trudges through the kitchen. “My mom’s on the road again.”

Zane blinks at that, then frowns. “Where is she off to now?”

“Don’t know,” Lloyd says shortly, before promptly stalking off toward the rooftop exit. Jay and Zane stand there in silence for a moment, Zane still methodically stirring the rice. Then he turns to Jay, and fixes him with a look.

“Grumpy-about-parents Lloyd is normally Nya’s job, you know,” Jay huffs, but he relents, following Lloyd’s quiet footsteps to the roof. Lloyd’s curled up in his usual spot, close enough to the edge that it frightened the life out of Kai the first time they found him. Jay doesn’t exactly get why, because Lloyd’s sad, yeah, but he’s not—

Well, maybe Kai’s just scared Lloyd’ll trip and fall off the roof. That’s what Jay’s choosing to believe, for his own sake.

Either way, Lloyd looks pretty sad now, so Jay plops himself right down next to him with a huff, neatly startling Lloyd so badly he almost does trip right off the roof.

“Woah, hey, it’s just me,” Jay says quickly, throwing his hands up. Lloyd glares at him, and Jay makes a face. “Don’t give me that, you’re the one that’s supposed to have ninja reflexes.”

“Hmph,” Lloyd grumbles, wrapping his arms back around his knees, but he looks slightly less likely to zap Jay’s nervous system full of energy, so he takes that as a go-ahead.

“So, your mom, huh,” Jay starts, with all the intent of comforting Lloyd and comforting Lloyd alone. “Hey, random question, but how did, um, why’d you decide to let her back into your life, in the first place?”

“What?” Lloyd stares at him. Jay cringes. Oops, that wasn’t supposed to come out. Classic Walker, he’s brought his own issues right into the middle of it, like an absolute selfish—

Great, now he wants to throw himself off the roof.

“Sorry, sorry, forget I said that,” Jay babbles, desperately trying to re-route the conversation. “Just — forget I opened my mouth, okay? Please?”

Lloyd shakes his head, looking more concerned than sad now. He’s even unfolded from his tight little Lloyd-angst-ball, which Jay would count as a victory if it weren’t for all the wrong reasons. “Jay, is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course!” Jay blusters. Lloyd stares at him. Jay gives him a bright smile back. Lloyd continues to stare.

“Okay, fine, not really, but — that’s not why I came up here,” Jay admits, cheeks flushing.

Lloyd’s eyebrows furrow in concern. “Is everything…okay with your parents?” His voice is tentative, as if he’s almost scared of Jay’s response, and Jay can’t have that.

“My parents are fine,” he replies, firmly. “But, uh, thanks for asking. I’m just…” Jay trails off, abruptly realizing that explaining this is going to require mentioning Cliff Gordon, which is going to require mentioning that he’s adopted, which is going to require explaining why he hasn’t told the rest of his team this. None of which are options Jay wants to explore at the moment, so he desperately tries to backtrack.

Lloyd, faithfully caring brother that he is to the bitter end, beats him to it. “Well, even if they are fine, um. To answer your question, I guess I…I needed to know.” He blows his breath out, glancing out over the skyline, half-broken buildings forming dark silhouettes against the setting sun. “I needed to know why she - she left me. If it was me, or if it was her, or…whatever, you know?” Lloyd bites his lip, and Jay suddenly feels like a horrible person for putting him through the mother thing right after the father thing’s been blown to smithereens.

And yet.

“Yeah, I get that,” Jay says quietly, letting it sink in. And he does, really. More than he thought he would, and this is probably a big glaring sign from the heavens, huh.

“But I don’t know,” Lloyd continues, sounding small as his hands tug on a frayed thread from a torn spot in his gi. “Maybe sometimes it’s better to cut people out entirely, too.”

He looks terribly worn when he says that, too young and too old for his age all at once, and Jay decides he hates the expression on his youngest brother.

“I’ll remember that, next time you steal the last of my coffee stash,” he says.

Lloyd gives a startled huff of laughter, before jabbing him in the side with his elbow. “That’s not what I meant,” he rolls his eyes, but there’s a smile edging his mouth now — not quite the Lloyd smile he’s used to, but it’s not as frail as it’s been, either. Lloyd doesn’t look so much like porcelain that’s been stepped on anymore, and the proud spark of joy Jay feels from that is enough to convince him that it’s a good idea.

He did promise Cliff Gordon he would, after all, and besides — knowing can’t be that bad, and Jay’s a firm believer in the wisdom of knowledge, and all that.

He’s also a firm believer of closure, but he’s stopped claiming to be one, since it probably comes off pretty hypocritical lately.

************

Jay doesn’t tell anyone where he’s going. He doesn’t even tell them he’s going at all, he just…waits for a convenient opportunity to slip out when no one will notice.

He wishes he had. He wishes he’d told Cole, told Nya or - or anyone he was going, and at the same time he’s glad he told no one at all. He’s not quite sure he could bear anyone else seeing whatever look’s on his face right now, on top of everything else.

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m so sorry,” the woman at the estate tells him, her eyes teary. “Cliff Gordon passed away a month ago.”

That…doesn't make sense, at first. It takes a minute, to sink through the odd roaring noise in Jay’s ears, and finally reach his brain.

“Passed…away,” he repeats, blankly.

The lady nods, looking at him with so much pity Jay kind of wants to kick her shins. “It was his heart, poor man. He hasn’t been so well the last few years, you know.”

“Right.” Jay feels a little like he does when he’d used to jump off his dragon, except this time he’s been tossed from it and he’s free-falling to a short and sudden stop.

“Did you know him?” she asks, curiously.

Jay tries to make some form of response, like “I was his son”, except all that comes out is a whole bunch of nothing. Nothing, just like what’s left in Jay’s head. He blinks rapidly, trying to banish the image seared into his brain.

Cliff Gordon’s eyes, bright and painfully hopeful.

You’ll come visit me sometime, will you?

Jay swallows thickly. “Sorry, if you’ll, uh — excuse me, I think lunch was bad.” Then he ducks for the nearby bushes, and proceeds to be horribly sick.

He tells himself, through heaving gasps, that the hot tears are only reflexive.

************

And that’s that. Jay, stupid, selfish Jay, waited too long and now he’s lost his chance forever. Because he was — what, scared? Nervous?

He’s not scared now. He kind of just hates himself, which isn’t the newest thing in the world, but this time it burns like the worst of scrapes and crawls up on him in the middle of the night, screaming what-if’s into his brain until Jay’s biting down on his pillow before he starts screaming himself.

It hurts, but he’s got no one to blame but himself. Jay messed this up all his own and he sure as heck doesn’t deserve any sympathy from his team for it. So he’s not going to even give them the chance, because they’ll never know. Jay will take this secret to the grave, because imagining the looks on everyone else’s face when he tells them he ruined this makes him want to put himself in the grave.

How long did he wait for Jay, how long did he—

Jay’s just going to drive himself insane with his own stupid brain and that’s that.

Well, that’s supposed to be that. It would’ve been that, except Cole is perceptive and Cole knows him too well, and Cole spots the look on his face when he’s telling him everything he’s found out about his mother, since Jay can’t even hide that from him.

And maybe Jay’s just weak, or so desperate for some form of reassurance or - or attention that he cracks, and spills the whole sorry thing to Cole. To his undying credit, Cole doesn’t even look like he despises Jay once. Instead, he looks at him with all this sympathy and kindness and oh, if Jay was a crier—

Well, actually, Jay is a crier, and ends up bawling into Cole’s gi at two in the morning, but what else is new.

The important thing is that Cole is Jay’s very best friend and possibly favorite person in the whole entire world, and Jay is going to murder him in cold blood for dragging him to Cliff Gordon’s estate and forcing their way in.

“If he cared enough to want to meet you, he’ll have cared enough to leave you in his will,” Cole reminds him, staunchly. “He knows how busy your life was, so I’ll bet you anything he understood.”

“Stop trying to make me feel better,” Jay hisses, as Cole manhandles him down the mansion’s — the mansion’s! — hallways. “I don’t deserve it.”

“For the love of—” Cole cuts off with an exasperated huff. “It is not your fault this happened. This is not on you. How many times are we going to have to do this, Jay.”

“Until the time you let me wallow in miserable peace,” Jay mutters. What does Cole know, it’s not like he totally bailed on his parent and then let them die. Not that Jay could do anything about that last part, sure, but the rest of it.

Cole stops them in one of the massive living rooms, finally fixing Jay with one of those stares. Uh oh.

“At least read the letter,” Cole says, suddenly pleading. “You don’t have to look at anything else if you don’t want to, but please read the letter. For me?”

Oh, Jay hates him. He tells him so, even as his glare falters in the face of Cole’s stupid puppy eyes.

“Is that a yes?” Cole replies hopefully, offering the letter they were handed with the estate key. Jay gives him a last, withering glare before snatching the letter from him.

“You’re the worst,” he mutters, as he tears open the envelope with shaky fingers. He hesitates for a beat, before mustering whatever pathetic courage he has and tugging the paper out, unfolding it as his eyes find the carefully scrawled words.

My dear Jay—

He promptly bursts into tears.

“Jay wha — Jay what’s wrong, is it that bad?” Cole is frantic as he hovers over him, his hands half-caught between reaching for Jay and reaching for the letter in his hands. Jay shakes his head, trying to stifle the sudden waterfall’s worth of tears that decided to make an appearance, and clutches the paper tighter.

Cole makes an anxious sound. “Jay, you know he’s — if he’s said something bad, it’s — he doesn’t know anything, right?”

Oh no, now Jay wants to cry harder. Cole sounds desperately concerned, kind and caring and genuine like Cole always is, and Jay feels like the worst person in the world.

Stupid, Jay, he scolds himself hotly, swiping angrily at his eyes. Stupid, selfish Jay. He’s got nothing to be crying about. Zane only had one dad, and he doesn’t go around whining about it. Lloyd’s got one dad who’s died three times, and may as well be dead now ‘cause he’s such a jerk. Kai and Nya didn’t even have any parents until last year. And Cole lost his mom who he loved, he loved so much, and he’s still here supporting Jay — stupid, selfish Jay, who’s got two entire stable parents who he’s never once doubted love him, and yet here he is, crying over the one he never really knew.

“Jay,” Cole tries again, quieter this time. “Jay, you’re allowed to be sad about your dad. It’s not a contest.”

Stupid, perceptive Cole.

“He said he loves me,” Jay finally croaks, swiping at the tears all over his face. “He didn’t even know me, Cole, how was he supposed to know that?”

Cole’s eyes soften, all melty and gross. “You’re his son, Jay, he knew you.” His lips quirk up in a smile. “Besides, he talked to you once, right? You make some pretty impactful first impressions, motormouth.”

Jay can’t decide whether to be insulted or more flattered than he’s been in the last six months. He decides to punch Cole weakly in the shoulder, before crying harder. Cole doesn’t even flinch at the hit, built like a rock as he is, and simply snatches Jay’s arm and tugs him close, wrapping his arms around him tightly. And oh, Jay wants to pull away, he doesn’t want to break down in his dead father’s mansion like this, Jay doesn’t have a lot of dignity but he’s at least got his shreds, but—

Cole gives the best stupid hugs in the world, and what’s Jay gonna do, deny such instant love and comfort? The risk of hurting Cole’s feelings far outweighs Jay’s tattered dignity, he tells himself. That’s why he clings to Cole like an overgrown barnacle and wails into his shoulder like a broken faucet. That’s the only reason, obviously.

“It’s okay to cry, you big moron,” Cole says after he’s calmed down, briefly squeezing tighter. “I get it. But you really should read more than the first lines of that thing. I think…I think it’ll help.”

“This is all I’ve got, though,” Jay sniffles. “I don’t — I lost any other connection I’ve got to him.”

“Sometimes you just gotta work with what you have,” Cole says gently, a little bitter, a little sweet. “And somehow, you have to make it enough.”

Jay pauses at that, thinking back to the statue miles and miles beneath a mountain, the delicate locket Cole had turned over in his fingers. He looks back to the letter in his hands, the lines and lines of all the words his father left for him, and remembers Lloyd’s words about knowing.

His fingers tighten on the edges of his letter. Jay, he decides, is done being scared. He’s got Cole at his side — what’s he got to be afraid of, anyways?

“Okay,” he says, swiping once more at his eyes, and giving Cole a watery smile. “Okay. Help me read through the whole thing?”

“I wore my old sweatshirt for a reason,” Cole replies, making a show of wringing his sleeve out. Jay whacks him with the envelope, but the laugh he shudders out feels real, this time. He gently spreads the letter out atop his lap, focusing on the words again.

It’ll be enough. It’ll sting, but…it’ll be enough.

Like Lloyd’s tattered photograph, like Cole’s mother’s last words — it has to be.

#lego ninjago #ninjago #jay walker #cole brookstone #lloyd garmadon #since they're both...fairly present at points gdnkfgj #i just have many feelings about jay apparently T-T #my fic #answered

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theninjasheeep · 3 years

Text

Blood of Love

Pairing: Pieck Finger x Porco Galliard (Modern/Fantasy AU)

This is my entry for @pleasantanathema’s Through Ink and Quill | A Classics Collab. I decided to go for a character study of Porco and Pieck's relationship following my Pokkopiku week piece Sweet Pandemonium paired with some vampire lore from Dracula and Anne Rice's Vampire Chronicles.

The idea of vampire!Pokkopiku came from @sinnamon19’s over the top fan art.

You can also read it on AO3.

Summary: Since they are creatures of the night, their senses, as their feelings are heightened to lengths that can’t be explained by words. But since blood is their life sustenance, it is also their means of communication.

Warnings/tags: Pokopiku, Pokkopiku, Gallipieck, Porco Galliard/ Pieck Finger, Porco Galliard x Pieck Finger, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Character Turned Into Vampire, Vampire Bites, Vampire Turning, Blood Drinking, Mentions of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Mentions of Suicidal Thoughts, Blood Sharing.

Blood of Love

Waking up in darkness after spending most of his life shunning the sun when he wanted to sleep late was a welcome change for Porco. He could lie and pretend he was one of those humans-turned-vampires who wailed about the sun, its warmth and brightness and how much he missed it, but he didn't.

He didn't miss the impending sense of foreboding dread that clogged his senses or the tacit expectation that life should have some kind of meaning. It was a succession of routines: being born, growing up, reproducing and dying; waking up, going to work or school, coming home, going to sleep and starting again the next day. There was always an unsatisfied craving, a need to be satiated that gave rise to another....

If it weren't for that same life and the unexpected, he would still be stuck in the routine of a life that no longer felt like one. Not so long ago he was eager to die and escape the curse of boredom. However, now that he was undead, he felt more alive than ever.

He didn't miss living as a human.

He did not miss the wars that sent young men like him to fight in battles and advocate for ideals that were in no sense his own. Wars like the ones that took his brother away from him, wars that made mothers cry and lose their lives to grief, like his. He didn't miss being part of a greater good, he fancied being selfish, living only for himself and what he deemed worthy of living for, like Pieck.

Pieck who turned him, Pieck who gave him a reason to live in hope and love.

The stories that are told about vampires are rich and wide-ranging. The majority depict them as cold and devoid of emotion creatures who enjoy drinking blood and playing with their mortal victims without any consideration or pity, with no regard for their suffering.

Dracula is the one that, for Porco, is closest to the truth. Leaving out, naturally, his own inability to turn into mist, a bat or a wolf, and how terribly he has fared with the latter when he has encountered them on his nightly hunts with Pieck high in the mountains, puts him quite a distance from what is supposed to be the blueprint for all vampires.

It has been less than fifteen years since Pieck agreed to turn him and allow him to stay with her forever. Overall, he could even be considered a novice vampire, at least in comparison to the more than two hundred years his female partner has been crisscrossing the planet. However, it has been long enough to learn what is both necessary and appropriate, but what the books say is, amongst other things, preposterous and out of proportion.

Porco's hazel eyes, in the darkness of the room, shine like two torches as they scan the words in each book with unprecedented speed.

The library, nestled in Pieck's hideout in an abandoned town once called Liberio, is about the same size as the house itself. To the unsuspecting eye, the house is a dilapidated old manor from which thieves plundered the treasures long ago, leaving only the massive stone and iron columns. Underneath, however, is a hidden cellar and a sealed passageway that can only be opened with the supernatural strength of a creature like Pieck. Not even he, with his years beside her and the same superhuman strength, is able to open it without visible effort.

Once that initial obstacle is overcome, a long corridor rises up with small windows that let in just enough light to clue the nighttime inhabitants as to what time of day they are in. And behind that corridor is a scaled-down replica of the ruined house that exists above ground: three bedrooms, a kitchen - more out of habit than necessity - a living room and a huge bathroom with a bathtub built into the wall, in addition to the library, make up what could be considered Porco and Pieck's home sweet home.

Although it is ridiculous, Porco is not going to stop enjoying his reading and perusing every nook and cranny of the library while Pieck, with all her quirks, tries to do some vampire yoga in the room across on their home.

Stories about vampires always depict them as a kind of blood-drinking skeleton barely able to articulate words and unfit to walk freely in broad daylight, as the sun is their greatest enemy. The only thing they got right is that their skin burns and the acrid smell of ashes is the only thing that lingers in the air after they perish.

In other stories, they are portrayed as having no emotional capacity and could be easily mistaken for an angsty teenagers searching for their identity and place in the world, with little to no impulse control, driven by their whims, manipulating their way until they achieve their goal. In these tales, the depiction is so over-the-top ridiculous that it is almost comparable to handing a child a panic button.

What is undeniable is the enormous capacity of humans to envision and demonize what they do not know.

Superhuman strength and speed, mind reading and control, morphing into wolves, bats and mist? The books detail how versatile their powers are, how they are able to cloak themselves, thanks to their human appearance, and hide for long periods of time in large communities and lead a relatively normal life, without arousing suspicion.

Although there are also accounts that refer to them as ruthless, cruel and stone-cold beings, who toy with the humans they intend to use as food until they have had enough, and only then, kill them in the most violent and painful way possible.

At this, Porco rolls his eyes. In his experience, both he and Pieck are careful with the humans they feed on. They always look for ways not to cause them pain or fear, and above all, to avoid leaving behind scenes worthy of a gorey b-movie.

Perhaps the only time such a scene involved the two of them was when Pieck agreed to transform him into a vampire.

There was a moment where he couldn’t see or speak anything and everything went black for him. He started to listen to a heartbeat, two actually. One was his... the other...

“Pieck?” He asks. He can hear her voice somewhere in the distance, it sounds pained and far, far away.

Meanwhile, Pieck keeps pouring her blood on Porco’s mouth and is silently praying to whatever it is that created them and allowed them to be alive for him to survive this ordeal. She’s panicking now because he’s very pale, dead by now, but he’s not responding to her calling like he is supposed to.

“Porco, wake up!” She cries. “Open your eyes,” She pleads. “Come to me!”

Nothing happens and Pieck panics, falling in a circle of self loathing.

Giving up on him, she lets her head fall on his chest and at this point she’s just a mess of guilt and anguish. Her hair is on her face and his shirt is all bloody with his blood, her blood, her tears. She can’t move, the will to do anything has left her completely so she just lays there beside him on the floor crying.

He hasn’t read anything that depicts accurately how they are created. Probably humans think they just popped out of nowhere. However, vampires themselves have a myth: Ymir Fritz was the first human turned into a vampire, many call her the Founder. She was a slave but became Queen of Eldia when King Fritz was unable to defeat her in battle. He surrendered and married her and, in turn, she made him into a vampire and together they gave birth to their species.

Where are they now? No one knows, they are probably marble statues, since the longer a vampire lives, the whiter and rougher their skin becomes.

One book in particular catches his eye: its dark blue cover with gold sparkles featuring a nine-pointed star, the symbol of Ymir Fritz. However, after a brief glance, he discovers that it is a parody.

Porco snorts, he can't believe he's found a book in which vampires don't roast in the sun, but glow like a fairy in plain daylight without any repercussions for their lives. Pieck must have been really bored to get —and keep— something like that and deem it worthy of their huge underground library.

"Have you found anything interesting, Pokko?" Pieck's mellow voice reaches his ears from the bedroom. Her body doesn't make any sounds when she moves, but her soft breathing tells him that she's still trying to do vampire yoga, as if she needs to.

"Geez, Pieck!" Her taunting giggle is the only response he gets, and aware that she can also hear him from where she is, he retorts: "You scared the hell out of me." He grumbles in fake annoyance.

"Don’t worry, you won’t have a heart attack."

“Tch.”

But it is true, no matter how much she may sneak up behind him to scare him, his heart has long since stopped beating, and if he had remained a human, he would most likely have died many years ago. When Pieck came into his life one night, wounded and seeking shelter, he had lost the will to live. All that remained from the happy Porco who lived with his parents and brother was a mere shell that always reminded him of how much he resembled Marcel. And had he lived, despite his desire to die, he would have been almost forty years old by now.

Putting the books aside and getting up from the floor, Porco makes his way to the bathroom where there is a huge full-length mirror, which he and Pieck use in such creative ways when they make love at night.

A derisive smirk tugs at his lips as his reflection glances back at him through the mirror. There are stories that claim vampires don't see themselves in mirrors and that's the reason they avoid them. If only whoever wrote that knew the things the mirror in his bathroom has seen him do to Pieck.

Sometimes, when he is overcome by melancholy and Pieck's love and company fail to reach the deepest wounds in his heart, Porco wishes that particular myth were real. What would his life be if his brother were alive? What would Marcel's life be if the war hadn't extinguished the light in his eyes? The same deep green eyes that right now were scrutinizing his every feature in the mirror.

As the years have gone by, his skin has become paler and his eyes more golden. Pieck likes to say that he is slowly turning into a lion.

Speaking of Pieck...

A slender hand appears over his right shoulder in the mirror, and down his arm until it curls around his waist. Seconds later, the weight of Pieck's head resting on the space between his shoulder blades confirms that he is no longer alone in front of the mirror.

“Hey,” She greets, nuzzling against him tenderly, “what are you thinking?”

He clears his throat, embarrassed.

His left hand reaches up and intertwines his fingers with Pieck's over his chest, and looking behind him, his gaze meets hers.

“My brother.”

Pieck's embrace grows tighter and a line of kisses and scratches from her fangs on his neck make Porco forget, for a moment, how much he misses his family.

“I’m sorry.”

“You know they were long gone before I met you.”

“I know, it’s just...” She releases her hold on him, walking a few steps to stand in front of him in the mirror, her back against it. “I wish I could ease your pain, but I’d be lying if I say that I never think about my father, I miss him.”

Porco raises his hand to caress her cheeks. “You’re stuck with me forever, remember?”

She smiles softly, leaning against him and hugging him back. Porco buries his face on her neck and taking advantage of their embrace, sinks his teeth on her neck, making her moan in delight.

There’s another thing the books about them seem to ignore or purposefully miss: yes, they are creatures of the night and as their senses, their feelings are heightened to lengths that can’t be explained by words. But since blood is their life sustenance, it is also their means of communication. Drinking the blood of another vampire is a gesture so intimate and so rare, that when it’s done by partners, it’s more than just a confession of love and trust, it goes beyond lust and desire: a vampire can show what they feel through images to their partner when they share their blood, and since words are not his forte by any means, he’s always eager to show Pieck comfort and reciprocate everyday the comfort and peace she gave him.

Licking the tiny marks of his fags on her neck, he nuzzles against it, kissing her tenderly. Pieck, being smaller than him, has a harder time reciprocating his gesture, but she stands on her tiptoes and kisses him back, biting his lower lip and drinking his blood as well.

Emboldened by the gesture, he carries her and sits her in the sink, standing between her legs without breaking the kiss. At this, Pieck leverages herself on his shoulders and —finally— sinks her teeth on his neck, eliciting from him a low growl. He bites her back and through their blood they both convey to each other what their words and their hands, roaming over every inch of the other' s body, cannot: they are together until the end of time and the sadness that each one carries is shared by the other.

Together, they were safe.

#pokopiku fic #pokopiku #pokkopiku fic #pokkopiku #porco galliard/pieckfinger #porco galliard x pieck finger #gallipieck #vampire aesthetic #dark fantasy

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maybankiara · 4 years

Note

rafe telling his lifelong girlfriend he killed peterkin and him being shocked at how badly they react

I’M CRYING WITH THE PAIN

pairing: Rafe Cameron x Female!Reader

summary: Rafe tells you he needs you and when you find it why, it breaks you as much as it breaks him.

word count: 1.5k

warnings: none

additional: this is basically pure angst with feels, so proceed with caution.

requests are open

When Rafe calls and he sounds like he’s on the verge of crying, all you can think is, okay, this is happening.

He says he’s going to stop by in about half an hour, and he refuses to tell you what’s going on, so you decide to drink some water and just…wait. There’s not much else to do, not when your mind is buzzing with possibilities – none of them being good.

When he finally pulls up, you walk out of the house and for a brief moment, you stop.

Rafe walks out of his car and he looks like he’s falling apart. His hair is a mess from tugging at it, his face is red and his eyes swollen, and even from the distance, you can tell he’s shaking.

He looks as if he needs someone to hold him together.

‘Shit,’ you say, hurrying to get to him. ‘Rafe, are you okay?’

He closes the distance between you two and he wraps his arms around you, burying his head in the crook of your neck. You draw circles around his back, holding him as he trembles. There’s something wet on the fabric of your shirt, right where his face is, and you think you’ve never seen him this bad.

Still, you hold him, and you try not to fall apart yourself. ‘Shh, it’ll be okay. Let’s just get inside, yeah?’

Rafe nods and he pulls back, but not before holding you even closer. ‘I fucked up, Y/N, I ruined everything.’

‘Rafe, we’ll talk about this inside.’

You don’t say it, but people are staring. This is a good neighbourhood and everybody knows who Rafe Cameron is, so seeing him like this is bound to raise questions.

Nobody’s home, so you take your boyfriend into the house holding his hand, feeling how clammy and cold and limp it is. He’s breathing heavily and you can almost hear his heart beat as you walk through the hallway, into your room. You lock the door, just in case, and by the time you’ve turned around, Rafe is spread all over your bed.

You know he doesn’t like to be in silence, so you put some quiet and slow music on your phone. When you sit down next to him, his eyes are closed, but he still puts a hand under the back of your shirt, the way he always does when he’s not feeling like himself.

Sometimes Rafe needs time. He doesn’t like being asked questions, so you play with his hair and let him open up when he chooses to.

He looks peaceful, almost. If you didn’t know him as well as you do, you would’ve thought he’s just asleep.

But you see how his lower lip quivers, how his eyebrows are furrowed, and you notice the stray tears escaping him. You see how his skin is even paler than usual, and his lips are cold when you press a brief kiss to them.

He takes hold of your hand and puts it on his chest. It’s such a simple gesture that it shouldn’t affect you, but Rafe isn’t usually like this.

‘I’m here for you,’ you tell him, quietly. ‘Whatever it is, Rafe. You know that.’

His eyes open and they’re so full of pain that you intake a sharp breath.

‘No matter how bad it is?’ he asks.

You shake your head. Your fingers trace his cheekbones, down to his jaw, and you cup his cheeks. ‘You can trust me.’

His fingers tighten on your hand, and his eyes are lost someplace else, and you know he’s about to tell you whatever it is that’s bothering him. You brace yourself, and squeeze his fingers.

Whatever it is, I’m with you. You’re sure of that.

And then he says, ‘I shot Sheriff Peterkin.’

‘What?’

‘I did it. I shot her.’

You feel a little faint, a little dizzy, and your hand goes as clammy as Rafe’s own. When you look at him, he’s not smiling, or giving you any sign this is a joke, and you begin to feel unease in the pit of your stomach.

‘Rafe,’ you say, ‘Peterkin is dead.’

He blinks, quickly. ‘I know.’

‘Are you saying you killed Sheriff Peterkin?’

Rafe nods.

You feel sick.

‘Please tell me this is a joke.’

He shakes his head. He sees the look on your face and he props himself up against the headboard of the bed, holding your hand when you make a weak attempt at taking it away.

‘Y/N.’ Rafe’s voice is broken and his face is breaking apart, and you see him start breathing faster. ‘Please don’t look at me like I’m a monster.’

You look away. He squeezes your hand, but you tug it out of his hold, and put it back in your lap. If you weren’t sitting down, you’d be falling on the floor now.

‘Y/N.’

Rafe’s fingers reach under your chin to get you to look at him, but you can’t. He begs you to, and you give in, but the moment your eyes meet you see him shiver.

‘You killed someone,’ you say quietly.

‘No.’ Rafe shakes his head. ‘Don’t say that, please don’t say that, don’t look at me like that.’

‘Rafe—’

‘You said you don’t care,’ he whispers. He moves closer to you, so close you can feel heat radiating from his body as if it were your own; you feel the smell of his cologne and begin to wonder if this is what he wore when he shot her. ‘You said you’re going to be there for me.’

You close your eyes, letting the tears finally fall. You can’t bring yourself to look at him as you say, ‘Not for murder.’

‘No, Y/N, you don’t get to do this. I can’t—I can’t lose you!’

Rafe cups your cheeks and wipes the tears, even if you can hear he’s crying harder than you are.

‘Please,’ he begs. ‘I need you, Y/N.’

You put hands over his and for a moment, you think you’ll just hold them – but then you remember what those hands have done and you take them off your face.

When you look at him, he’s crying harder than you’ve ever seen him, and so are you.

‘Rafe, I can’t—’

‘You don’t understand.’ He cups your face again and you let out a sob, and he lets his fingers fall, as if burnt. ‘I was trying to protect my father. I was just — She would’ve taken him away, Y/N, she would’ve killed him because that asshole John B set him up, and I couldn’t—I couldn’t lose my dad, Y/N, I couldn’t lose him. I can’t lose you. Please don’t make me lose you.’

His eyes hold your gaze, but when he breaks, he doesn’t stop. You don’t know what to do, how to handle this, but you hold him as he falls apart, his head against his chest and his arms wrapped around your torso. Your own tears are falling into his hair and it’s all wet, just like your shirt, and you try to shush him, to do something, anything, but nothing feels like enough.

You hope your parents don’t come home soon. You hope things aren’t as bleak as they seem.

You wish your boyfriend of three years wasn’t a murderer.

Instead, you cry harder, and so does Rafe, until you’ve both run out of tears, shaking as you lie on the bed, him in your arms. He seems so small and vulnerable and you think this might be the first time you’re seeing him for who he really is – scared, more than anything else, wanting to prove he’s more than people think him to be.

You have hiccups from crying, but you hold your breath and try to calm down. Rafe is awake, but you can tell he cannot bear to look at you.

He’s scared of what he’ll see.

But you made him a promise, and you know he’s a good guy, and you know how much he values his father, and you believe he did what he believed in – even if it was what it was.

Your boyfriend is not a murderer. He’s just scared.

‘Rafe,’ you say, quietly. He doesn’t move so you kiss the crown of his head. ‘Hey, Rafe.’

He looks up at you, eyes big and bloodshot, and your heart aches for him.

‘We’re going to figure this out.’

‘We?’ he asks, almost shocked.

You nod and smile weakly. ‘You were right, Rafe. I promised you. I won’t take it back, okay?’

Rafe moves a little, closer to you, and presses a kiss to your lips, as soft as the one you gave him earlier. ‘I love you.’

An hour ago, you thought these were the words you could never say again – but that’s not the case. You gave him a promise and you aren’t going to let him down, not when he needs you the most.

So you say, ‘I love you, too.’

#leroyazizsane #rafe cameron #outer banks #obx #outer banks fic #obx fic #rafe cameron x reader #rafe x reader #rafe cameron imagine #obx imagine #outer banks imagine #rafe cameron angst #my fic #my imagine

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jamestrmtx · 3 years

Text

Fairytale Complex - [Undertale | Sans x Reader]

[Gender Neutral, Frisk's Parent Reader | Slow Burn]

Chapter Nine | Dating Tense! (Part 2 of 3)

[First] | [Previous] | [Next]

Though your sense of amiability and acumen have warped themselves since last weekend, you feel some of that patience and kindness return when Toriel greets you into her new home, the scent of food and her smile soothing whatever anger you had prior to ringing her doorbell.

Sans gestures for you to go ahead first despite him being the most familiar with her and the most affected by the rain, but you persist in your manners and tell him to go change out of his clothes first and foremost. Though they're now dry from how long it's been since he got rained on, it's still evident and necessary for him to change out of them with how tired and disheveled he looks, wrinkled up clothes, slouched posture, and a tired gaze combining to make him look sleep-deprived. “I have a change of clothes in my car,” you say, offering him an abashed smile. “It’s a work uniform and probably a little too big for you, but…” You trail off and feel your face turn warm; remembering all his failed attempts at flirting with you doesn’t help with your situation. “You can still use them, if you want to.”

“It’s cool.” He keeps a neutral expression despite noticing how reluctant you'd acted with him just now, levels different from how you were with him back in your car. “I’m here pretty often, so I’ve gotta change of clothes or two stocked up. And I also gotta go pick up Papyrus first, so I’ll just freshen up after I’m done with that."

"You should still shower and change first." You frown at the thought of him driving out in the rain again, without rest or care over himself. "It doesn't matter if you dried off or not! You'll get sick if you don't take care of yourself first." You give him your car keys, your umbrella, and take off the suit of your uniform, giving him all three items as you add, “Ditch the jacket and wear this once you’re done freshening up.”

“Thanks,” he says after a while, voice quiet and gaze barely capable of looking straight at you without faltering. “But the keys ain’t really necessary. I can use my-”

“I insist.” You push the keys further into his hand, making him hold yours for just a second before you pull away. “Now go.”

• • •

The first thing Toriel gives you after Sans drives off in your car is a big hug and a firm hold on your shoulders, eyes facing yours with concern. "How… How are you feeling?" she asks, smile changing for a faint frown as she lets go and gestures for you to pass through. Your persistence on not doing that until you were sure Sans followed your suggestions had led to some small talk between you and her while you waited, but only talking about everyday matters and without being nowhere near as personal as she’s being with you right now, whatever concerns she’d been having since your hospitalization showing up now. "Lunch is ready, if you would like to eat now!"

How considerate she's being makes you regret the thought of bringing up the topic you discussed with Sans regarding her once wanting to adopt Frisk. You don't want to point fingers nor hurry into it yet, but there's something about her telling you she'd just finished picking Frisk early due to the stormy weather and that they’re currently sleeping at a bedroom made especially for them that makes jealousy spike within you. The thought of her being a better parent than you makes your stomach queasy and weakens your once tolerant mindset along with the strength of the promise you made of hearing the monsters' perspective before making any rash or abrupt decisions.

"There's no rush," you reply, smiling at her. "I can wait. I'm feeling okay, and I think it would be better if we all ate together instead.”

You enter her home, welcomed by a near replica of her old one at the Ruins -- a great contrast from her former, minimalist apartment. Her new place is just as big as the one at the Underground, and with a similar colour scheme of mostly beiges and yellows, too. The only difference is the layout and furniture of the living room, decorated with two large couches and a small television, but even then the compact kitchen and the hallway leading off to more rooms seem similar to her old home.

You sit down with her and toy with the sleeve of your shirt as you try to bring yourself to say something before engaging in any other, friendlier conversation with her -- beyond your small talk about how she and Frisk were doing while you were busy with work. "Would it be…" You hesitate; fear over being tactless makes you bite back your tongue. "Would it be alright with you to talk about something, well… kind of personal?” you ask, meeting her eyes. “The tour last weekend left me with some doubts, so I'd like to clear them out, if possible."

She looks at you with furrowed brows and a small smile, as if you’ve asked her something obvious. “Of course it’s fine, (L/N),” she replies, shifting closer to you as she lays a hand over yours, hers fluffy and much warmer in comparison to a human’s. “What is it? Is it about what-”

Your talk is postponed before it can even begin properly, whatever she was about to ask you held back as you both move your attention to the new and old faces that enter the living room.

Papyrus is here, along with Sans, who -- clearly telling the truth about how weak his magic was when unprovoked -- now looks as exhausted as you often felt after a long shift at work. Even so, he doesn’t let that stop him from walking to your side and giving you your keys and suit jacket back. “Thanks for lendin’ me your car, pal,” he says, almost wobbling when he takes a step back. “Have you talked that stuff out with Tori yet?”

“Not yet,” you say, smile fading and forehead scrunching up when you get a better look at how different he seems compared to barely a while ago. “But should you really be worrying about that right now? You look exhausted!” You frown when you notice he looks twice -- if not, thrice -- as worse as he did when leaving to go find Papyrus. The time on your phone states it hasn’t even been thirty minutes since he drove off, so you wonder if he’d used any additional magic to make his trip shorter along the way.

“I’ll be fine. Just needa sleep a lil’ and I’ll be good as-”

Cards reversed, it’s now your turn to catch him when he stumbles again.

Before he can even say something in objection to your actions, you carry him off to the couch across from the one you and Toriel were sitting on and lay him there. “Rest for a bit.” You press the back of your hand against his cheekbone and check his temperature, felt considerably low compared to how warm he was on the few occasions when you hugged each other. “A shower and a change of clothes won’t do you any good if you don’t rest.”

"Didn't think I'd be gettin' my own, personal doctor today," he comments, returning to his brazen self despite how tired his voice sounds.

"Now's not the time for that, bonehead." You glare at him and press him back down when he tries to sit up. "Sleep, or I'll knock you unconscious myself."

Thankfully, he doesn't push further and does as told, falling asleep in the blink of an eye.

• • •

Try as you might, it becomes impossible for the good mood left behind since arriving at Toriel's place to stay intact.

Having nothing left to do but wash dishes and later wait for the rain to clear up made you gather the needed courage to ask her over that particular subject, yet you’re pretty sure you came off as rash at one point in beginning with the conversation. “Why did you want to adopt Frisk without knowing if they had fallen intentionally or not? And why didn’t you ask them if they had a family waiting for them before they went on a journey and broke the Barrier?” were reasonable and simple enough questions, though there was much left to be said about your tone and you adding, “Do you know how… how awful it felt when I was told you wanted to take them as your child, at one point?”

Three hours.

Only three hours into arriving at her new home, and yet your relationship with her was already becoming about as tense as Sans’s after your nearly ten hour long tour.

"I did not intend to take Frisk away from you, and I would have never asked them that, had I known they were missing you just as much as you were," the goat lady says, a smile showing through, though made pained by the furrow in her brow and teary eyes. "But I would still like to keep seeing them, if you allow me to." She breathes in. "And now that you require a babysitter, I can and would gladly continue to look after them while you work. They are very dear to me, and I cannot bear to never see them again." She breathes sharply again, holding back her gloom through those means. "I understand you may not trust us, but please do get to know us before you make your judgment, and perhaps then you will… understand we only want what's best for you and your child."

Calm down.

That’s a phrase you continue to repeat to yourself before opening your mouth again.

Nonetheless, you fail in doing that and come back at her with, "And couldn't you think like that back when your kind decided to attack them -- wanting what's best instead of letting them go alone, just like that?" You cross your arms tight and dismiss any thoughts about your missed meeting once more, too caught up with the current situation to give mind to your job. "I was told many of your kind attacked Frisk for little to no reason. And then I decided to ask about what that sentry job implied, and I find out Sans was actually meant to kill any human who crossed him?" You try not to let your voice grow loud, yet thoughts over losing Frisk and the desperation you went through searching for them all around the map make you livid. You're tearing up yourself, yet you prove unable to compose yourself like Toriel does, letting these stain your cheeks. "You expect me to trust a guy like him, when all that kept him from killing my child was Karma and a… a supposed promise he made to someone else? Do you expect me to trust him when- when he could've done the same to me, or anyone else of my kind? How can you expect me to stay calm, when your kind acted badly in their own way?"

You're full-on crying now, pent-up worries of the days you spent on a relentless, fruitless search over Frisk almost making you wobble to the ground; your wit and sheer want to be strong are what prevent you from showing it. You cover your face with your hands while guilt and doubts enter your mind. Your knees are frail, though some of that stress is let out through a heavy huff, and your hands let go when you compose yourself more. "I thought Frisk hated me, a- and that's why they ran off." You feel a hand place itself right on top of your head, careful yet attempting to soothe you further. "I thought I'd done something wrong, or that I… That I failed as a parent. But then…” You shudder the next time you breathe out. “Then Brenda calls me and says something important happened. And- And next thing I know, Frisk shows up in the news!"

While the current hand is fluffy, the next one causes you to jolt back up into guard. Its bony feel on your shoulder makes you shake it off and face the one responsible with cold, narrowed eyes.

When you see it's Papyrus, you hold back and face him with gentler eyes, a frown replacing your anger. "I'm thankful for what you all did to look after Frisk while I wasn't around, but I still can't… I really still can't overlook what Asgore wanted to do to my kind, or what he ordered Sans and... and other monsters to do." You breathe in, chest heaving and shuddering again when letting that same breath out. “H- Hate me if you will, but I... I need time to understand the reasons behind all of this."

Too weak to stand any longer, Papyrus takes note of that himself and helps you off to the couch, where Sans still rests at. His usage of what little magic he had left in him shows through how slumped his sitting posture is and how his eye sockets are half-lidded as he tries not to fall asleep. He straightens and scoots away, leaving you with more than plenty of space for you to sit down beside him.

"(L/N)," the taller one says, keeping a hand on your shoulder and bringing you to stare at him. "We do not hate you. What we want is for you to hear us out and understand we mean no harm any longer." He pulls back, gaze knitted as sympathy shows on his smile. "I was once meant to capture any human who crossed on over to Snowdin, and as you said, Sans was meant to… to end them." He stops, smile fading. "So your worry and panic are understandable. I do not expect you to forgive and forget, but I do ask you to please listen to what we have to say and try to understand the rather… complicated relationship humans and monsters used to have."

It’s been more than an hour since your meeting ended, yet the rain's still pouring strong and the news station left to play on the television is already reporting over nearby routes being flooded by what now has to be a tropical storm. Frisk is still sleeping in the goat lady's bedroom, helping make the situation a bit easier for you to manage with. Though -- at the thought of being stuck with the monsters for what you assume is going to be a long, long while -- you sigh, trying to regain both strength and calm alike.

"Been rainin' a lot since we left the Underground," Sans comments, a tired slur to his words. He's changed the topic completely, helping you with the process. "Think this's really connected to us? A lotta people've been blamin' monsters for it."

"I think it's silly they'd blame you for it," you reply, finding more ease in the topic. "There was a heavy drought not long before Frisk fell to the Underground, so I think it was to expect we'd have even heavier rains soon." Surprisingly, he offers you a napkin, avoiding the touch of hands by pulling away as quickly as his magic-worn state allows him to. "Thank you." You pat at your tears and wipe your face clean, stopping when you hear muffled laughter coming from him.

"...What?" you ask, facing the skeleton with a raised brow.

That only makes him break down more, though he contains himself to reply with, "Nothin'."

You hear Papyrus huff and see him stand next to you. He offers a mirror out to you, something you reject when you tell him you have one with you. "Sans, now's not the time for this!" he exclaims, hands on his hips. "You'll never gain (L/N)’s trust if you continue to disrupt every single opportunity you have for it!"

While listening to their argument, you see Toriel's sadness vanish right on par with yours. You look at yourself in the mirror, holding back a laugh of your own when you see two large circles surrounding your eyes, with a colour blatantly opposite to the (s/t) shade(s) of your skin. It makes you look similar to a panda, though you try not to appear humoured by it.

"Frisk fell for that at the Underground," Sans comments, snickering when his brother finally stops scolding him. "And now you." His grin widens, posture straightening more and tiredness being replaced with merriment. "I've said it once and I'll say it again: like parent, like child."

Whatever form of retaliation you're about to direct at Sans is stopped when you see the door of the living room slam open, in entering two women, and both soaked from head to toe. Alphys is the first one you recognize at a quick glance while the taller one takes you longer to distinguish with how little you knew about her still. Neither of the two seem bothered over being drenched, Undyne being the one who grins and sighs in relief, later commenting about how refreshing the rain feels. Alphys takes in the feeling for some time, though she removes her lab coat and shoes, wringing herself out before stepping into the living room. When the other woman's done, her eye falls on you, immediately growing as her smile does the same, sharp teeth baring themselves in excitement.

"Is that the one you told me about, Alph?" she asks, voice booming throughout the house. "You're right. They're just like Frisk described them to us, and just as cute as those pictures on the news!"

You hear Sans hiss out an 'ooh', and hear him speak right after with a muttered, "Bad move, Undyne."

He's not wrong.

Having experienced more than enough of Sans's flirting for the past few days, hearing yet another monster comment over you in a flattering manner is unwelcomed. Consequently, you stand up and face the two with your trademark pose: frowning, brow narrowed, and with your arms firmly crossed. "Nice to meet you, miss Undyne." You spare a look at Alphys, who jolts at the intensity of your stare. "My name is (Y/N) (L/N), Frisk's primary care parent. Though I'm sure you know that already." You offer a hand out to her, reminding yourself to be polite. "I believe I have questions as to why you thought it acceptable to chase my child at the Underground, even when they were deemed to have caused no harm to your kind."

She takes your hand, and a more serious look takes her over when she nods. "I'm afraid that was a job assigned to me for being part of the Royal Guard, (miss/mister) (L/N)."

You shake her hand, nodding back. "And I'm afraid you'll have to explain that to me then, miss Undyne.” You take a pause. “Apologies for being so quick about this, but I… I want nothing but the best for Frisk, and so I still have to get to know their monster friends better to understand what this is all about."

When the handshake's over, you both take a step back, facing each other with stern gazes. "In the end, I believe it's my right as a parent to decide whether or not it's safe for Frisk to keep being friends with you." You pause, reflect, and make sure to add your next comment, wanting to be clear with everyone around you, "And not because of your race, but because of your actions."

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janaeekook · 4 years

Text

Press your Number; (1)

pairing: badboy!taemin x (f) reader

word count: 3.2k

warnings: drug use, illegal drug dealing, smutty smut, switch leaning dom!taemin (tw:Jonghyun is mentioned as a character)

When did You meet him? A complicated question really. Taemin. He held secrets in his heart, he was dangerous, maybe that was what intrigued you most about the boy. Sure the leather jacket he always wore was an addition.

College, the day before freshman year, a large party at the neighboring frat to your sorority. That was when you first saw him, when his eyes first hypnotized your mind. It was a rather prestigious school, and Taemin never really fit. That group never fit. Meaning they weren’t the typical pretentious rich kid whose daddy paid full tuition.

You were your parents pride, pretty-headstrong-straight-A-student. It wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows having wealth, more than you had any idea what to do with. There were standards to be upheld and met, to embarrass yourself would be to embarrass your family.

You’d had a well off relationship with your father, You knew he wanted the best for you. He worked hard so that You’d have a better foot hold in life. You knew that You would be aloof without him, struggling to make ends meet. You didn’t want that. That fear to struggle alone kept you on track, until You went to college of course.

•

The lecture hall was full, though only a handful were still awake. The monotonous voice of your professor, a steady yet peaceful lullaby. The boy next to you jolted awake as the professors voice became louder.

“End of term papers should be turned in on my desk by tomorrow, until then, class dismissed.” The classmates around you grabbed their things, and hurried out of the hall.

“You got the notes for me princess?”

“You shouldn’t fall asleep every class, Taemin. Not everyone is going to do your biding.”

“Hmm, I don’t know I think I can be pretty convincing, don’t you think?” You could feel the smirk radiant from his perfect lips.

“Whatever.” Your face burned, as you stood up and headed for the door.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” Taemin’s voice came up behind you, “Let me make it up to you. Tonight.”

“There’s a party tonight.”

“Then your house will be empty?” You could hear the mischievous tone in his voice.

“Taemin-“

“Come on please?”

You sighed, “Fine, but if any of them come home-“

“I hide in the closet and don’t make a sound.” He waved it off nonchalantly.

“It’s serious Taemin, if my father were to get wind of anything that’s going on...” You paused, trying to find the right words.

“He won’t go along with it, I know.” He said as we made it into the hall.

“Y/n!” Your friend, Mia, called your name from down the hall.

“I’ll be over at 9.” Taemin whispered before slipping amongst the crowd. You let the familiar shiver ghost up your spine, Taemin always did that to you, and it was only his words. His hands, however, made you shake in pleasure and anticipation.

“Are you ready for the party tonight?” Mia asked excitedly linking arms.

“Aw you know, I don’t think I can make it. I need to pack, my dad is coming tomorrow afternoon after classes.”

“Y/n l/n? Not prepared? It can’t be.” She jokingly gasped.

“Ya, ya, I’ll be fine.” Mia chuckled as you went back to the house.

•

You bid the girls goodbye, it was 9:30, they claimed they couldn’t be early even if the party was just a few houses down, they had to show up fashionably late. You’d texted Taemin to just wait in his car until they left.

“Thirty minutes, that’s how long I sat there.” Taemin informed you as he came through the door. You giggled as he grabbed your waist and pulled you against him, the kiss he placed on your lips was hungry, desperate, your arms snaked around his neck. You were pushed against the wall next to the front door, “Though, it gave me time to think of what I can do to you tonight.” He pulled away to speak, moving his lips to the sensitive skin of your neck.

His hand slipped beneath your polka-dot pajama shorts. Pulling your panties to the side he plunged a finger into you. The gasped moan that fell past your lips held longing. You’d missed his touch, it was enough to drive you over the edge already. The sloppy circles he drew over your clit with his thumb made your body shake lightly.

You pulled away lightly your mouth hung somewhat open and eyes hooded in pleasure, “Upstairs.” You managed to get out. Taemin got the hint before pulling away and letting you lead him up the steps.

The door shut behind Taemin before he grabbed you from behind and latched his lips onto your neck again. Your breath was shaky in your throat.

“God I’m gonna miss this.” Taemin mumbled into your neck, the words served as a reminder that it was the last week of school before winter break. You’d be going home, returning to the city, the upper east side of New York, for the holidays.

You were going to miss the freedom of college for 4 weeks, you were going to miss Taemin’s touch, the way he made your body feel. He didn’t hold back, he wanted to proclaim to whatever God, show them exactly how much he loved you. He knew, however, that he couldn’t have more than these secret—behind closed doors— meet ups, hiding away your relationship from prying eyes. He wasn’t of ‘her class’ as they’d say, image and reputation mattered, and he didn’t fit that image.

As he thrust into you from behind, his pace got almost unbearable as he slammed his cock deeper inside you. Unintentionally taking his anger out on your body, your cries of pleasure were muffled, your face having been pressed into the mattress. Tears and saliva wetting the blankets beneath you, your senses where completely heightened as you felt your orgasm approaching. And when his cock brought you your release it was his name you cried out in pure ecstasy— but he didn’t stop his menstruations, the seemingly endless slapping of your skin with his.

Your body shook, the overstimulation taking its toll. He pulled you up so that your back was pressed against his bare chest, “T-Taemin I can’t-“ you spoke through breathless moans.

“No baby, I know you can,” He reassured you before bringing his hand around to rub harsh circles over your clit, “Give me another one.”

His combined efforts hurtled you over the edge again in less than a minute. Tears continually streamed down your cheeks, and a chocked sob left your throat, before Taemin met his own release with a low grunt in your ear.

You collapsed next to each other, catching your breaths. Your breaths mixing in the steamy mess of your bedroom. Taemin rolled onto his side, facing you before he grabbed your chin and kissed you, it was hungry yet passionate. It strangely really felt like ‘goodbye’ rather than the ‘see you later’ it used to be.

“What’s wrong?” You ask when he pulls away.

“I just-“ He shook his head, sending you a small closed mouth smile, “Never mind, It’s not important.”

He said it in his head, screamed it, ‘I love you, please don’t choose someone else, please don’t walk away.’ However he knew he’d never say it to you. He was bad for you, his tendencies and habits. He knew it wouldn’t be more than these secret meetings. You’d find someone, or your father would, who gave you more than his own criminal-like tendencies could. He knew you’d be happier in someone else’s arms.

•

The last day of classes was easy, term papers all turned in. Taemin fell asleep in class again, everything was normal, to the finest degree.

“I’ll drive you home.” Taemin had said to you, you nodded to him with a smile. You reached his car, a dark green 1970 Chevy Impala, a very Taemin car in your opinion. He opened the passenger door for you.

“How chivalrous of you.” Your words causing him to roll his eyes as he shut the door, to which you chuckled, “So what do I owe the pleasure, you taking me home?” You asked once he was in the drivers seat.

He shrugged, as he pulled away from the curb and continued down the street, “I won’t see you for awhile, might as well enjoy your company.”

You snorted, “No need to get all sappy with me Lee, I’m sure you’ll have me tangled in the sheets the day we come back to campus.”

Silence filled the car as he drove down the streets. You could sense he had something on his mind, like he had the urge to say something. And he didn’t the whole way, until you were parked across the street from the sorority both your backs leaning against the driver side of the car. Taemin lit a cigarette taking a few drags before finally speaking, the brisk breeze blowing the cloud of tobacco your way.

“What about your father?” His words held a bitter twinge to them— as if mentioning him left a bad taste in his mouth.

You looked over and up at him as you studied his face for any indication of what he meant, “What about him?” His eyes bore down into your own with the upmost intensity. free from prying eyes. Or so you thought.

Taemin shook his head, “Nevermind.” You overlooked the pained smile he had forced on his features. Stepping on his cigarette before moving in front of you he grabbed your cheek then placing his lips upon your own, the same hunger they always had beneath it made you crack a smile against his lips. He pressed your back flush against the side of his car.

“Taemin, as much fun as you fucking me against your car sounds, it’s probably not the best idea.” Your voice was breathy as you pulled away.

“I’ll be subtle about it.” He smirked. You considered it, the street was pretty much barren, void of any prying eyes. Or so you thought.

“My dad will be here to pick me up soon.”

��Tch, your lose.” He said before stepping away from you.

“I’ll see you in a couple weeks.” You smiled, pecking at his lips before walking across the street but you stopped half way turning back around to face him, “And Taemin, don’t be a stranger, text me.”

“Ya, ya, as you wish.” He waved you off with a smile, “Have fun.”

You waved to him as he drove away, and when you turned to go inside you heard a car honk. You turned around again only for your fathers ginormous black suburban to pull up, and to your surprise your father was the one driving.

When he got out you gave him a bear hug, you were his little girl.

“Oof,” he let out along with a chuckle, “Your hugs never get old, sweetheart. You ready to go?”

“Where’s Kevin?” You asked when you released him from the hug, curious as to where your fathers driver was.

“He had some business to attend to.” He reassured you, “I assume you have everything packed? We don’t want to keep your mother waiting.”

“Ya I just have to grab my bag.”

•

5 minutes prior;

Your father watched from where you had parked further down the street, he was seething. Watching as some random boy pinned his daughter between himself and the car. He was bad news, searching for a climb up the New York social latter.

The leather jacket, the car, the cigarettes, the way he handled his precious daughter. He was no where near the standard he held for his daughter.

“Sir?” Kevin asked from the drivers seat.

“Tail him, find out who he is, I never want him coming near my daughter again.”

“Sir, are you saying-“

“Yes. Take him out.”

•

Taemin;

He sat on the couch in the back of the club— the typical hangout. He had a new cigarette sitting between his middle and pointer finger, Jinki came threw the door to his office, a large stack of cash in hand.

“Hey jackass this isn’t a lodging house, feet off the couch.” Taemin scoffed but ultimately listened, sitting up.

“Is that all from last night?” He asked.

“Only half.”

“Shit.” Kibum said from his spot on the floor, most likely high with the way he was slurring his words, “We should put Taemin on the stage more often.”

“We getting our shares?” Minho asked as he cleaned his gun.

“Push me and your answer will be no. Kibum, stop testing the fucking merchandise, I’m not afraid to cut your share.” Laughter bubbled in Kibums throat, “Jonghyun, can you sober him up? I need him to sell tonight.”

Jonghyun sighed, “On it.”

“Taemin— I’m putting you on section 3, bachelorette party.”

“Fantastic.” He said before taking another drag from his cigarette.

The 5 of them worked together, Jinki bought the club a couple years back. He hired strippers, waitresses and bar tenders, and the 5 of them worked the illegal dealings, most of the time. But after a male stripper left on short notice, Taemin stepped in. And the costumers loved him. Kibum sold illegal drugs to mingling groups, usually with the help of Taemin. Minho covers security— checking Id’s and such, and Jonghyun dj’s, the whole ordeal wouldn’t work without him.

Before he went out and danced almost fully naked in front of random women. He texted you.

T: goodnight, sleep well

Y/n: Lee Taemin going to bed early? Who are you???

Taemin couldn’t help but smile at his screen, he could hear your voice as he read it.

T: No, but I know you do

Y/n: You got me there...

T: Sleep well

•

The previous week drifted past and it was Christmas Eve. Snow now on the ground, it absorbed the noise around it, making everything fall quite.

The club wasn’t the ideal place any regular person would find themselves on Christmas. But the boys were all Taemin had, the only people he could truly consider family.

“JESUS KIBUM!” Jinki’s voice shouted, the boy in question was slouched over on the couch, passed out. He didn’t even stir.

“He’s cooked, good luck with that.” Minho snorted.

“We had a new buyer meeting set up tonight, willing to pay double for 7 grams.”

“I can do it.” Taemin shrugged, and it was settled. A Simple deal, nothing he couldn’t handle.

You;

Piano played carols downstairs, the annual Christmas Eve party your father threw was in full swing. The wealthy families in the neighborhood attended talked business and such. Though you were preoccupied, starring at the screen of your phone, waiting for Taemin to text you back, you sighed when nothing popped up you left your phone on you bed before slipping back down the stairs to join the crowd.

“Y/n, darling, there you are! There’s someone your father would like you to meet.” Your mother spoke, she grabbed your hand guiding you in the foyer. You saw your father talking to a man about his age.

“Ah, sweetheart!” Your father greeted with a warm smile, “This is Mr. and Mrs. Wong, We work closely together.”

“It’s wonderful to meet you Mr. and Mrs. Wong.” You said with a bright smile.

“And, can’t forget their wonderful son, very intelligent young man.” Your father gestured to the boy who stood with them, you hadn’t even realized he was there until that very moment. He was handsome, he grabbed your hand kissing the back of it lightly.

“I’m Lucas.” He greeted and you swore that smile would make you melt, your cheeks burned crimson. You knew what your father was proposing with Lucas, and you couldn’t exactly fight him in it. In a life such as yours, your choices are made for you, including who to love and marry. Though you felt loving Lucas would come easier than you’d imagined.

Taemin;

Taemin was leaned against a graffiti covered wall in a quiet alley way, waiting for this new costumer Jinki had spoken of. The guy eventually came down the alley, Taemin rolled his eyes at how obvious this new-bee was being.

“Hey are you-“ he started.

“Ya, ya, you got the money?”

“Can I see the product first?” The man asked, Taemin rolled his eyes before taking out the bag holding it up, “That’s it?”

“It’s what you asked for, 7 grams.”

“I don’t remember that.” The guy argued.

“Look, take it or leave it dude.”

But he didn’t respond, that’s when Taemin saw the flashing lights, his stomach dropped, “NYPD, come out of the alley with your hands up!”

“You set this up? Fucking snitch.” He spat before he went barreling down the other side of the alley. He ran to his car, speeding off, his mind was racing a thousand miles per minute. He knew if they didn’t know his car by now they’d know soon.

He pulled up behind the club, rushing out of the car and then inside. Taemin shoved Jinki the second he saw him, The tensions quickly going from 0 to 100.

“The bastard called the cops!” Taemin yelled.

“Fucking shit.” Jinki spoke.

“I have to go, I-I have to leave.” Taemin was freaking out.

“Taemin we can figure this out, you don’t have to go anywhere.” Jonghyun stepped in.

“I’m not taking you all down with me- I’m sorry, I’ll contact you all when it’s safe.”

And with that Taemin was out the door again, hearing the sirens off in the distance only serving to heighten his unrest. As he sped through the bustling night streets. He pulled out his phone as he headed for the countryside, in hopes to disappear and lay low for a bit.

He pressed your number, his heart ached when you didn’t answer. He took a deep breath to steady his voice, going to speak when the tone sounded.

“Hey, Y/n, uh— I got into some trouble, I won’t be able to talk until it’s safe- Uh b-but I will, don’t worry too much about me.”

He wished he could’ve heard your voice, spoken directly to you. It would’ve calmed him down, cleared his mind enough to be aware of the black suburban tailing behind him. Would’ve prepared him for the pit maneuver that sent his car into a tree.

He coughed on the smoke before pushing the car door open, and falling out onto the asphalt. Taemin looked up to see the man from the alley way.

“You-“ Taemin croaked, blood from a cut on his forehead dripped down his face, “What? Are you a cop?”

He chuckled, “Taemin, you simply messed with the wrong family. And pissed off a powerful father.”

“You’re mistaken, Ive never met the guy.” Taemin’s hoarse voice spoke again.

“You really think he doesn’t keep tabs on her?”

“So what are you here for? To threaten me to not go near her again?” He asked groaning as he rose to his feet.

“Not exactly.” The man, Kevin, raised his arm. A gun in hand. And before Taemin had time to react it was too late. A twisted game of class resulting in blood shed. For she was higher than he.

The final sounds hushed by the snow that began to fall; were that of a gun shot and a body crumpling to the cool earth below.

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