#Bones you cowards /j

[minimafioso]

Corruption Beast Chuuya Concept doodles

[tinystarbites]

accidents pt. II | Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Summary: during a long case away, Spencer accidentally sees Reader's nudes on her phone and can't cope because he is a MESS for reader whoops pt.II The Reckoning /j, this is basically just 10k words of porn with feelings yikes

Warnings: SMUT MDNI, 18+ only, fem!reader, fluff, some angst (still Spencer feeling he isn't good enough 😔), EMOTIONSSS, Spencer STILL loves you so much, he gets a hug, and so much more!, talk about sex, detailed asking for CONSENT (be safe people), sex (piv), some frottage, uhhh what else, dirty talk, some dom/sub understones (sub!Spencer ofc), little bit allusion to subspace, Spencer discovers so many kinks in this awww we're so proud of you bby (mentioned kinks: praise kink, squint of liking being embarrassed, tiiny bit of a voyeristic thing), also I made him a virgin whoops so virgin!Spencer, proofread but prolly not perfect lol. Tell me if I'm missing any tags I am so tired

(also, Spencer will be bisexual in all of my Spencer fics because I am not a coward like the writers were and I will honour Spencer the way he was intended to)

HERE you can read pt. I, I do recommend it to have context and all but do whatever you want lmao I'm not your mother anyway have fun being completely wrecked like I was while writing this!! also thanks so so MUCH for 400 followers and almost 2k likes on the first part, you guys are the best and I hope you enjoy this fic as a thanks!!<333

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Spencer’s never sprung from his bed faster in his life before.

His heart is a jackhammer in his chest, chipping away at his ribs one bone splitter at a time because-

It’s you. In front of his door. And Spencer is so hard it hurts but- he can’t just-

“Spencer?”

He sucks in a haggard breath, hands reaching up and messing up his hair even more. His thoughts are everywhere and nowhere at once and he just needs to- needs just a moment to-

“Uh, yeah, just a second!”, he calls back, voice scratchy and used from the- the moaning Jesus Christ because he was about to come with your mental image and he somehow, magically, managed to apparently conjure you up in front of his door with his pathetic pining and oh god-

He has to- ugh- has to wash his hands and make it go away and –

“Okay, I’ll just…chill with that weird plant here.”

An overwhelmed whimper slips past his lips and he just, stands there for at least another five seconds before something in his mind snaps back into place and he rushes to the small, adjacent bathroom of his room.

After he thoroughly washed his hands, his erection has flagged off enough so that it’s not the first thing greeting you when he opens the door and thank god for that.

And oh- seeing you after doing that actually knocks the wind out of his lungs because you are just so goddamn lovely it makes Spencer want to do stupid, stupid things like cry or kiss you or spontaneously combust into a million pieces.

For once, he does something okay-ishly sensible though.

“Hi.”

You look at him, one eyebrow raised in amusement or scepticism, he doesn’t know for sure. Your eyes hold mirthful sparkles in them when he finally manages to meet your gaze, so he settles for the former of the two options.

You’re not wearing your work clothes anymore. Rather, you went for a cozy looking, oversized sweater and funkily patterned leggings. Your fashion sense outside of work always reminded Spencer of Penelope’s.

“Hi to yourself”, you chuckle, “Can I come in or are you too busy reading ten books at once?”

Spencer feels himself flush under your gentle teasing.

“Only seven books. But, yes, of course you can come in.”

He turns out of the way, creating room for you to pass him into his room. As soon as you are inside, you don’t hesitate to jump onto his bed and flop on your back with your arms spread wide.

Spencer’s breath hitches and he has to do some very extensive mental gymnastics to supress all the inappropriate thoughts from escaping the box he banished them into. Controlling his body’s response to seeing you in the same bed he was just jacking off in is… a different story. He pulls down the hem of his shirt as discreetly as possible, as he takes a seat next to you. Making sure that there is not too much distance between you two as to raise any suspicion and make it obvious he’s trying to get some distance between you, but also enough space so that he isn’t enticed to do anything unwise. Like, reach out and feel your warmth underneath his fingers. Or the softness of your skin. Or anything else really.

The more seconds tick by in which neither of you say anything, the more nervous Spencer becomes. He starts fiddling around with his fingers, aborting more than one move to steal a glance at your face to see what you’re thinking.

“Spencer”, you then finally say, voice kind of pout-y and if that didn’t make Spencer whip his head around to face you, the next thing you say for sure does. “Do you hate me?”

“Wha-“, he sputters your name, “No- no! Of course, I don’t- whe- why would you think that?”

You let out an exasperated groan, moving around until you are lying on your side, head propped up on your arm and frowning up at him. “Because you’ve been acting hella weird these last few days and you won’t tell me whyyyy”, you drag out the last syllable, pout on your lips and Spencer has to look up at the ceiling or else he’s just going to confess everything without second thought and that will definitely not happen.

“I haven’t been acting weird, really, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You remain silent again and Spencer feels the judging glare you send his way without having to look at you. Yes, he has been acting weird, he knows that, but you can never ever know the reason why tha-

“Is it because you saw my nudes?”

Spencer almost breaks his neck with how fast he whips his head down to look at you again. A strangled noise escapes him without permission and what. What.

“Because, that would actually explain so much, especially the way you’ve been acting and really, that’s probably on me because I’ve always been telling myself to put them behind a password block but I somehow always manage to forget that because apparently I have only one braincell left that’s stuck spinning on the deep-fried version of Funky Town and well, I guess I’m glad it was you that found them and not someone else and-“

“What? No, no, I didn’t- What- that’s not- what-“, Spencer cuts off your rambling with a horrified, screeched version of a protest because how- how could you have guessed what’s going on with just one try? Is Spencer so- so absolutely besotted with you that he’s so obvious? Spencer is so very confused and overwhelmed with whatever the hell is going on, he kind of misses the slight twitching of your mouth.

“Come on, Spencer. I said it’s fine and basically my own fault. Uh- well, actually… sorry. Because, well, that’s probably not very work-appropriate… I will pay for your therapy session, just send me the bill.”

Spencer thought he’d reached the limits of confusion seconds ago but apparently, he hadn’t. What. What are you even saying?

“Therapy sessions?”

You just- ignore him.

“Oh, also, please don’t tell Hotch? He’ll be pissed, despite me literally just doing hot-girl shit, y’know-“

Oh, Spencer cannot take it anymore.

He says your name and, “Stop, please, please, just-“

You snap your mouth shut, pulling your lips between your teeth and Spencer definitely doesn’t miss the way you have to force your mouth to stay still this time.

“Are you- is this a joke?”, Spencer asks, frazzled and desperate and so confused he just wants to bury his head under the duvet and never come out again. Because if you don’t actually know but- are just joking around, oh Spencer is overwhelmed, alright.

Your expression changes into something panicked then. “No, no, Spencer, sorry. I’m- sorry. Of course I’m not joking, I’m so sorry. It’s just a little bit too easy to tease you. Sorry.” You actually look apologetic now, lips downturned and frowning slightly.

“Not joking- so… so, you know?”, there’s something big and anxious pressing inside of Spencer’s chest. The urge to hide away and never face daylight again intensifies tenfold. He’s flushing before he realizes, hands trembling and breathing a bit too fast to be considered normal. Oh god, you know, you actually know, you’re going to- you’re never going to speak with him again you are probably here to tell him how weird and- and-

You must’ve noticed the frenzy he is thinking himself into, because you reach out with one hand and gently nudge his thigh with one knuckle. “Spencer”, you say, voice serious and steady and not the slightest bit disgusted or harsh and it snaps him out of his anxiety spiral.

“I knew the second I walked back into that room after you basically fled the precinct. I am, really, genuinely, sorry for making you uncomfortable. Like, it wasn’t actually my intention for you to see them. And then, after I realized what… I just wanted to wait and see what you’d do, if you came to talk to me or, well…”

You sigh, the hand that nudged him ruffling through your hair.

“I didn’t handle this situation very well. I’m really sorry. So… “, you trail off, scrunching your nose in that adorable way of yours that makes Spencer want to kiss it until it scrunches even further because you’d laugh and try to fight him off.

“We can just- forget about this. Forget that it ever happened, or-“, you hesitate again.

Spencer feels suddenly breathless. Like he stands in front of a cliff face, seconds before taking the step to send himself careening towards something immeasurably great or devastatingly fatal.

“Or…?”, he breathes, voice small and unsure.

You meet his eyes again after what feels like hours. There’s something intense in them, burning, and it’s like an electric shock to Spencer’s system. He’d give anything for you to keep looking at him like that forever.

“Or”, your hand returns to his thigh, but this time you let your fingers travel along the shape of it and Spencer whimpers. The burning in your eyes intensifies and Spencer feels hot, suddenly, so hot he’s burning with it. “Or we can do something else.”

“Something else?”, Spencer basically croaks because his throat is so dry and it’s difficult for his body to function properly when you are touching him like that.

You hum in agreement. “Whatever you want. You can tell m-“

“You.”

You look a bit startled when he cuts you off with that one, desperate syllable. Startled but also endlessly amused and Spencer just- his mind is apparently turned off, what the-

You laugh quietly, and your eyes soften, and it does something to Spencer that leaves an ach-y feeling in his chest. Oh, he loves you so much he can’t take it.

“Sure. You can have me”, you say simply, as if it’s the easiest thing in the world for you to admit, “Tell me what exactly you want, because I’d give you the world if you asked.”

And suddenly there’s hot pressure behind Spencer’s eyes, at the back of his throat. You’re just- just- amazing and so lovely and so kind to him, no one has ever said something like that to him, he doesn’t know how to handle it.

Spencer blinks up to the ceiling, desperately willing these stupid unwelcome tears away because crying about you treating him kindly is so on the bottom of the list of acting casual about this, so he rather feels than sees you sitting up next to him. Your hand slips from his legs and he feels the loss of your touch as if someone sucked the marrow from his bones. Before he can say something embarrassing like ‘please touch me again’ he feels your hand covering his. It fills him with a heady kind of courage.

“I want…”, Spencer starts, feeling entirely too uncomfortable with having to state his deepest and darkest desires. There’s the old familiar urge to start picking at his nails nagging at him, but you just interlace your fingers with his and start tracing random patterns into the skin there with your thumb. Spencer melts against you and tenses up at the same time because it’s just so- so nice. It feels so nice and Spencer never thought he’d ever get to have things like that with you but you’re here. You’re here, with him, and basically offering Spencer the entire world on a silver platter but it’s still so so unfathomably difficult just saying what he so badly wants.

“You want…?”, you hum slightly, voice soft and so tender as you continue painting patterns on his skin and Spencer would literally die for you. And that’s the entire problem. Spencer doesn’t know if you’d do the same. Well. Maybe not die die for him but. He can’t just sleep with you, and it not meaning anything to you. It would kill him. It would kill him, if after you give him tenderness and pleasure and acceptance in a way he’s never dreamed of receiving, you would go back to normal. Always politely distanced, close, but never close enough and it already twists his chest just thinking of that possibility.

“I just-“, he tries again, but when the words are stuck in his throat, sticky molten sugar that tastes like bile and fear, he pulls out of your grip and buries his face in his hands. He’s so bad at this. He’s the worst. No wonder he’s never had- had something like Morgan has, one night stand after one night stand (not that he particularly wants that, god no, but just-) because Spencer is just so bad at spilling all of the things that plague his gut and keep his thoughts in overdrive at night. No wonder he’s never even had a girlfriend or boyfriend before.

“Hey, hey, Spencer”, he feels your hands cupping his own, still over his face. Not taking them away, but just – there. “It’s alright, penguin, we can always come back to this another time. I’ll wait.”

Spencer’s face crumples and his breath hitches a little because- penguin. That’s the frankly ridiculous nickname you’ve been using for him ever since he apparently once looked like one, with that white scarf and knee-length black coat he wore during one of your cases where a blizzard surprised not only the team, but also the unsub. Spencer, like most of you, wasn’t prepared and thus, had to make do with what the helpful officers provided them with. And well, Spencer drew the penguin stick it seemed.

It’s ridiculous but sweet and it always makes him feel so loved, loved by you, because it’s adorable and theirs and he just loves it irrationally much, okay? And also, penguins are just really fascinating because-

“Did you know that most penguins live monogamously? The Emperor penguin is actually one of the only ones that mate seasonally, they only have one mate per breeding season. But most others have a mate for life, like, like swans and bald eagles.”

Before Spencer even opened his mouth, he was aware of the fact he was going to ramble on about some unimportant stuff. It’s always like this, it always feels like a breath he’s been holding in for too long, like an itch somewhere in his weird brain that only stops when he opens his mouth and infodumps and he cannot stop it. No matter how consciously he is telling himself to cut it out or screaming at himself to shut the fuck up you weirdo, it’s unavoidable. As soon as his brain latches onto a statistic or a fact it is reminded of, it’s an unstoppable force.

Like now. He is kicking himself. Why, oh why can’t he ever be normal? He feels himself flushing bright red from embarrassment and shame and frustration. He can’t believe he is rambling about birds while- while whatever the hell you two are doing right now. While in the middle of a conversation that started out with you confronting him about him seeing your nudes, jesus christ.

Spencer is about to suffocate himself with a pillow when you let out a graceless snort.

It confuses Spencer so much he lowers his hands to look at you and- oh.

Your eyes are shining with something that looks so close to what he would call affection, and it makes him want to bawl his eyes out and at the same time, smile so hard there’ll be laugh lines on his cheeks for the rest of the week.

“Well, that fits perfectly then”, you say, and Spencer doesn’t understand.

“What do you mean?”

You smile just a little wider, a little more teasingly but in a nice way, in a kind way and it leaves Spencer’s chest blooming with warmth.

“If you’re my penguin, I’ll be your penguin.”

Youryouryouryouryour-

Spencer feels entirely braindead. Only the fact that you called him yours registers. Because yes. Yes. Spencer is so yours he’d gladly let you make every decision for him from now on in his life and yes. That’s not exactly a very normal thing to think. Or to want. Spencer doesn’t care. He’s never felt normal about you for a day in his life and he definitely won’t start now.

“You- you mean- like, as, as mates?”

You scrunch your nose in disgust. “If you want to call us that, I think I’ll take back my offer.”

It punches a giggle out of Spencer, sudden and kind of light-headed. He watches your face break into a wide grin.

“But you- you’d like that?” You’d like me?

You pull a face, sniffing in a nonchalant way, direct your face to your nails in fake disinterest.

“Sure. Whatever.”

And Spencer can’t help himself. He sobs out a laugh- laughs out a sob or, whatever that weird noise he makes is, because you’re so ridiculous and he loves you more than anything in the world.

You roll your eyes, fondly, shake your head slightly.

“Of course, Spencer. I’d like that very much because I like you a very unnormal amount. Literally. On my knees, crying, screaming etcetera”, you say just like that, smiling just like that.

Spencer feels like he’s dreaming. He must be. There’s no other explanation for it. He just can’t wrap his head around the fact that you could like him. You. You’re so, so lovely and amazing and you deserve everything good in this world and Spencer is just. Spencer.

“You- you like me? Me?”, Spencer can’t hide the incredulous tone that seeps into his questions because you like him?

There’s no traces of humour in your eyes anymore. Your eyes look painfully honest, face suddenly serious, and it steals Spencer’s breath away.

You lean closer to him again, grabbing his hands with yours. Your gaze bores itself into his, intense and steady and he can’t look away. “Spencer. I know it’s- I know life has been hard on you for way too long. And that leaves its marks on you. That’s fine. It’s human. But. You do not deserve any less love because of that, do you understand me? Of course I like you, what isn’t there to like? You’re kind and funny and sweet and just so- Spencer. You’re so lovable and it kills me to know that you don’t see how you are so worthy of being loved.”

Oh.

Oh.

You can’t just- can’t just say things like that and expect him to not cry a little. Can’t expect him to act completely nonchalant and cool about all of this when you say things like that to him. Are you trying to kill him? Because it sure does feel like that.

Spencer is so completely at a loss. He doesn’t know what to say to that- not to mention what to do. How do you always do this? How can you see straight to the hidden, bruised core of him, littered with all these ugly and bad things and. Just. Figure out what to say to strike him exactly there.

It should scare him, being known so deeply. It should, but it doesn’t because it’s you. You are warmth and acceptance like his favourite place in front of a fireplace, book in hand and rain gently knocking against windows. You are quiet mornings at work, you are soft rays of sunlight in his hair, you are gentle hands helping you up when you fall and bruise your knees. You are –

A touch to his cheek startles him. He opens his eyes – when did he close them? – to your fingers brushing some stray tears away, so softly as if he’s something precious, something to be held delicately. That thought sends new tears spilling down his cheek. He can’t believe this is affecting him so much, so completely he simultaneously feels like he is going to shatter and be stitched back together again.

He never knew he needed this so much.

“Sorry for making you cry, penguin. I didn’t think this discussion about my lack of nude etiquette would get this emotionally damaging”, you say, voice hushed in the big silence of the room, a small smile on your lips and eyes so kind.

Spencer snorts, despite himself. This has really been a very bizarre evening. He feels almost drunk on the weirdness of it all, on the rollercoaster that his emotions have ridden all evening. That’s probably why he does what he does next.  

“Neither did I, especially after you interrupted me while I wa-“

Spencer shuts his mouth so fast he clicks his teeth together, eyes wide and suddenly horrified. He- what-

Why?

Why can’t Spencer ever keep his big mouth shut? Is he completely and utterly insane?

There’re alarm bells going off somewhere in Spencer’s head and a concerning warmth settling deep in his stomach when your grin takes on a slightly devilish edge, one he knows all too well and. And. Oh. He’s in trouble. So much trouble. Why did he have to say that?

“After I interrupted you while?”, you prompt him, eyes electric and hot and oh god-

Spencer is so dumb. An idiot. Of the highest order. High IQ, where?

“Nothing”, he says, voice high-pitched and rushed and he curses himself and his ability to act everything else but nonchalant. He’d be the worst actor of all time.

“Spencer.”

The tone of your voice rearranges something in his neurons. He can feel himself sit up just that little bit straighter, can feel his mind buzz at the edges. He’s never felt like this before.

He loves it.

“Hmm?”, is all he gets out. Trouble, so much trouble.

Suddenly you’re standing up, away from him and Spencer wants to whine because you should stay there next to him, forever fixed to his side. He doesn’t have to despair long, because you take one of your knees and gently nudge his legs apart with it and okay. Okay. That definitely didn’t just send Spencer’s mind reeling. That wasn’t just totally the hottest thing that ever happened to him.

You slot yourself between his legs as if you own that space and. In his humble opinion, you do. You so do. Spencer is willing to give you a map of his entire body and a marker and tell you to please demarcate every part of him you want. He’d give it to you, no questions asked.

He is looking up at you, at your burning eyes that still hold something so soft in them that makes the lump in his throat bigger again. And by god, Spencer just needs to hear you say it again-

“You like me?”

You move closer to him, lifting one hand and placing it underneath his chin. Your thumb traces along his jaw and Spencer feels like he is going to burst into a million embarrassed pieces.

“Yes”, you say simply, but the way you say it. Spencer can’t help but shiver and exhale shakily. He feels so warm, everywhere. His skin burns where your fingers are touching him. He never wants this to stop.

“You- You want me?”

Your hand grips his face a little stronger, your other fingers splaying over and down his throat and there’s a high noise coming from somewhere and there’s goosebumps on his body everywhere and oh, wait- it’s him. The noise. Well, how embarrassing but. He doesn’t care. Nope. Not at all.

…Okay maybe a little. His face feels warm, suddenly, warmer than the rest of him and yes. He’s blushing, okay?

“Spencer”, the way you say his name it- god, “I want you. I said it before, but. I will give you anything. Tell me what you want, Spencer, and you will get it from me.”

Your eyes are so dark and your voice so low and Spencer actually whines and. He’s hard again, so hard, because he didn’t come before and now, he’s even more pent-up and his thoughts are a mess, but you haven’t even touched him more than this and he’s already so worked up from you just saying these things to him-

“I want you”, Spencer pants, currently finding no other English words in the dictionary of his mind. And well. Emily was right about him. IQ slashed to zero when pretty person do thing.

He watches you take a deep breath, as if to steady yourself, as if this whole thing is affecting you as much as it affects him but that’s- ridiculous. Impossible. Because. Have you seen yourself?

“I know that, Spencer. But what do you want from me? Do you want me to kiss you?”, you ask, face suddenly so close to his Spencer feels your breath fan over his skin, and he whimpers because yes he wants that wants that- “Do you want me to touch you more?”, your other hand grabs his side, gentle but just a little bit roughly and Spencer is suddenly vividly reminded of the fact how strong you are and he feels kind of lightheaded-

“Do you want me to fuck you, Spencer?”

Spencer is going to pass out. And die. And moan and say, “Please yes yes yes”. Maybe not in that particular order.

“Okay, angel, anything you want”, you say, smiling softly at him as if he’s the best thing in the world and angel. Angel. Angel.

Before he’s even started to process you calling him angel, he sees a glint in your eyes, that edge in your smile again and before he knows what’s happening, you’re kissing him.

You’re kissing him and it’s- everything.

Your mouth is soft against his, and Spencer’s insides twist and flutter and his brain is kind of lagging behind, but he wants to be closerclosercloser-

It’s so good Spencer completely blanks on everything. There’s nothing in his mind except the feel of your lips moving against his. There’s no insecurity, no embarrassment tainting this moment even though this is literally like, only the sixth kiss or so of Spencer’s life and he has no idea what he is doing. But it’s so good.

A noise somewhere between a moan and a whimper escapes him when you lick into his mouth and Spencer’s soul almost leaves his body. He feels you shudder where you are pressed together, chest to chest.

“Spencer, Spencer”, you breathe against his lips, in between wet, hot, kisses. You rub your nose against his, eyes closed.

“Hmm?”, he hums, his voice somewhere in Canada or wherever. His mouth is too busy smiling so wide it hurts, anyways. No time for articulating anything.

“You’re amazing, Spencer, amazing.”

And he wants to shake his head, no, because the only one amazing here is you. But it’s impossible to disagree with you when your mouth has returned to his in a way that is probably ruining him for anyone else. (He’s okay with that.)

You peck him on the lips once, twice more, before you press your lips against his jaw, exactly where you had your fingers before. Your hands are basically the only thing holding Spencer up in a sitting position, because he feels like molten chocolate in your hands. Muscles apparently forgetting to do their job and well. Who can blame them? Spencer has stopped thinking in proper sentences the moment you had walked into his life, so. Only a matter of time until you broke the rest of him as well.

You kiss his neck and Spencer gasps. It’s really been a hot minute - three years, one hundred, twenty-one days and twenty hours to be exact – the last time he made out with someone. Everything feels heightened on his heated skin, especially you opening your mouth against him and licking him oh god-

It almost feels like a reward when you gently bite at his skin next. Spencer almost screams.

“So good, so so good for me”, he hears you whisper into the skin of his neck and this time, Spencer does make a noise. Because yes. He wants that. Be good for you. That’s the only thing in his fuzzy mind that feels clear, that feels graspable.

He can see your pupils dilate. Can see the wicked lilt to your lips. “You like being good for me, don’t you, angel?”

ANGEL. Spencer is nodding his head before he knows he does so. “Yes, yes.”

“Fuck”, he hears you breathe against him and it’s strange, seeing the effect he has on you. Did really he do that? “I can’t believe how incredible you are, sweetheart.”

And you need to stop. If you keep calling Spencer these things- he’s pretty sure he won’t survive this. The team would need to find another genius to solve cases with. His cactus Greg would dry out and wilt and die. You and Penelope would need to find another victim to send confusing memes to.

“Did you like my pictures, Spencer?”, you then ask and that’s so not fair. You can’t just ask him that while he’s so utterly in your hands that he’s sure he’d tell you about every little fantasy he’s had about you ever if you asked.

Because Spencer wants to be good, feels that need so deeply in his bones, he nods frantically. “Yes, I- I liked them.”

At the same time the words leave his mouth, something feels wrong. There’s an ugly thing twisting in his stomach, so unpleasant it momentarily occludes the high-octane bliss-fuzz fogging up his mind.

You notice the shift in mood almost immediately. “What’s wrong, angel?”

And well. It’s just- that guilt. Of not saying anything to you about Spencer seeing your nudes, of just ogling you like that without your permission. That wasn’t very good of him. Actually, the opposite. He’s been bad and he hates that. Hates that so severely that there’s suddenly tears on his cheeks and oh no. That’s mortifying. Who cries before sex? Jesus Christ he’s such a virgin it is genuinely embarrassing.

“I’m- I’m sorry”, he stutters, a little bit hysterical, creating distance between you, arms slung around himself, “I should’ve, should’ve said something, I’m so so sorry, I’m the worst friend and now I’m- I’m crying, oh god, I’m so sorry-“

“Hey, hey hey whoa. Spencer, darling. Penguin. Look at me, please?”

But he shakes his head. He doesn’t deserve to look at you again. What was he even thinking? He was- so creepy and now- now-

Two warm hands grab his face and then Spencer is looking into your eyes again. He squeezes his own shut, but all that it does is send more tears spilling over his cheeks and he’s so fucking stupid-

“Baby, please.”

Spencer sobs.

Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ. That’s the best thing he has ever heard but he doesn’t deserve these things.

“Of course you deserve it, silly goose”, you say and oh. He’s said that out loud.

Your thumbs brush over his cheeks and Spencer can’t not lean into your touch, despite everything. Because that’s just the way it always is. He’s drawn to your warmth and tenderness like a moon revolves around its planet.

“I thought we’d established that it was an accident? And if it was someone’s fault, then mine, because no password, remember?”

Spencer opens his eyes. The deep affection swimming in yours makes him sob again. He’s a mess. A crying, horny mess and Spencer definitely fucked this up. Why does Spencer always ruin the few good things in his life?

“Spencer, Spencer. Hey. It’s okay, I promise you. We wouldn’t be doing this, if it wasn’t, okay?”, you kiss his nose. “Do you want to lay down, maybe?”

He nods, not really thinking clearly. He moves up the bed, under the covers and curls up on his side. He waits for you to get up from the bed, for you to walk over to the door and leave. To say that this was a mistake, he was a mistake. To say that you take back everything you said to him in the last half hour.

He’s not just a little surprised to feel your weight dip the mattress, to feel even more sudden warmth engulf him when you spoon him from behind. You start tracing swirly patterns over the skin of his arm and he feels goosebumps spread all over his body.

Some minutes tick by, you still holding him, when his tears have finally dried up. He doesn’t remember crying so much in one day. Spencer feels miserable.

“Do you still like me?”, he asks, and yes, it’s pathetic and stupid but. He doesn’t care if you never have sex or if you’re not going to be more than his friend now. Because the thought of you not being in his life in any capacity anymore- just no.

He can feel you freeze and take in a sharp breath. “Wha- Spencer. Of course, I still like you. I don’t care what we do, I just want to be with you. In any way you’ll have me.”

You sound so understanding and sincere and actually confused about his fear as if you’d never even think of not liking him anymore and and and-

And something in him just- snaps. He wants you, needs you so much he’s going to die if he doesn’t-

He shuffles and turns in your arms until he’s face to face with you. You look at him, eyebrow raised in question but so beautiful and lovely and you still like him-

“I want you so bad”, he says and then he presses his lips against yours again.

You respond immediately, low moan escaping you and Spencer is greedy, he wants to hear more, feel more, feel everything with you.

He’s kissing you as if he’s going to die if he ever stopped, which, yes, he absolutely would, and you kiss him back as if you can’t live without him. It makes everything become hazy again, like before, and every bad feeling suddenly feels eons away. Like he’s underwater, floaty and relaxed. Safe, he feels safe in the way you kiss him and hold him. Like you always do.

You move your kisses to his neck, sucking and biting and Spencer is moaning and moaning and can’t stop and then suddenly, you’re gone, what –

“Spencer, Spencer, wait”, you pant, out of breath and flushed and he wants to cry again, “Sorry, sorry I just-“

You frame his face in your hands, a little bit roughly. “I’m so sorry for making this so hard, you’re being so good for me, but Spencer. Have you done this before?”

Somewhere in the fog that is his minds, Spencer finds his voice. It’s high and airy but he doesn’t care. “No, no, I haven’t.”

He watches you take a deep breath, feels your fingers digging into his skin a little bit more.

“Tell me. Do you want this, Spencer?”, your voice is shaking as if you need to keep yourself in check and Spencer can’t believe he’s getting to see you like this.

“Yes”, he says because he can’t ever want anything else, and, “Please make me feel good.”

You inhale sharply, your grip on his face bordering on painful. “Spencer, you’re incredible, amazing, the best- I’ll make you feel good, okay? I’ll make you feel so good because you deserve it.”

“Yes”, Spencer is not ashamed of how whiny he sounds. No. He’s owning it now. This is his thing now, okay? He’ll gladly be your pathetic wet cat, or whatever the term was that you sometimes use to describe him with. Whatever it even means.

“Good”, you grin, and then you push on his shoulder hard and he’s on his back. And you. Sitting on top of him, thighs on either side of him. Straddling him exactly where he wants you most and he exhales a needy ‘ah’. His hypothesis of liking being manhandled is… yet to be disproven. He’s discovering so many things about himself today.

Pleasure radiates in waves from where you’re passively giving pressure to his hard cock and yeah okay. This is good. Amazing. He’s never felt better. But-

“Please.”

“Please what, angel?”

“More?”

“More what?”

Your fingers trailing along his throat and jaw, down his chest and teasing ghost-like over his nipples are not really helpful in finding the right words to what he wants. You take pity on him.

“More touch?”

Spencer nods his head, so fast he almost gets dizzy because he’s at that point again where everything feels liquid, hazy, a little bit unreal. So, speaking is already quite the task.

You smile at him as if he just solved the most difficult equation. “Doing so good, Spencer. Incredible.”

He moans. Okay. Another hypothesis to add to his ever-growing list of scientific discoveries today.

“Where do you want touch, Spencer? Here?”, there’s hands in his hair. He shakes his head.

“Hmm… Here?”, fingers drawing circles on his chest and yes, that feels nice, so nice but he wants-

“Here?”, you ground your hips down and jesus-

“Yes!”, Spencer almost chokes on the sound. Pleasure shoots up his spine and he whimpers. “Please.”

You exhale shakily, looking flush. “Okay. Because you ask so nicely.” There’re two little taps on his lower stomach through his shirt. “Do you want to take this off first? Or no?”

The way you give him the chance to say no- the way you respect his autonomy so deeply-

It’s basic human decency, yes, but it’s also the hottest thing and Spencer feels so valued and understood and safe that he’s not even hesitating when he mutters a quiet yes.

You help him sit up because he’s currently not really heir over his body like he usually is. Help his head out of the shirt and thread his arms out. And then, he’s half naked in front of you and suddenly, the doubt and insecurity that’ve been so quiet so far are back with a vengeance.

The urge to cover himself is so big it’s impossible to stop his arms from wrapping around himself.

Spencer knows he’s not ugly. He’s not that bad looking actually. Can’t be too bad if Morgan keeps insisting on calling him pretty boy, even though Spencer sometimes still has the sneaking suspicion that he’s teasing him. But his friend wouldn’t be so cruel.

But other people like to be. Pipe-cleaner, leek, straw, big-eyes. He’s heard it all before. He has matured enough and grown into himself so that these things don’t bother him like they used to. But still. Still. These things are arduous to scrub from under his skin.

Your gaze on him though- he’s never felt so, cleaned from all of these mean words before. You look- you look reverent while mapping his skin and maybe that’s the reason why he lowers his arms again.

“Spencer. You’re a dream”, you say, almost in trance. Almost as if you’re hypnotized by him, and he’s flushing. But. Being watched so intently, being admired like that. He feels his dick give an indigent twitch against your clothed core. Another thing for the list.

“So impatient”, you tut and Spencer flushes more. He thinks he’s waited long enough for this. But he doesn’t say that. If you stopped now- he would definitely combust spontaneously.

You lean down, over him. Hands trailing along his sides like you did earlier, but without any clothes between your skin and his. It’s almost too much. And not enough. He feels electrified, where you touch him. His heart is hammering against his ribs so hard you must be able to feel it. His stomach is in knots, fluttery. He’s never felt more alive.

You connect your lips to his throat, placing kiss after kiss along the arched length of it. Follow the same path with your tongue and Spencer whines, curves up against you a little. Everything feels so good Spencer is floating in it.

You shift your attention to his collarbones next, kissing but then gently biting and Spencer feels the indents of your teeth all the way through to his back and he hopes, wants, you to sink them into him so deep they’ll leave marks. So that he carries the evidence of this with him for the rest of this case, so that there’s absolutely no more doubt to who he belongs to. That thought alone makes him whimper, makes him feel that tiny little bit more lost in you.

You start kissing along his chest, down his stomach. Open mouthed, wet kisses and Spencer shivers when the places you put them feel cold after because of your spit. The lower you get, the noisier he becomes and at one point, Spencer would’ve been embarrassed. Well, he kind of is, but he’s also so turned on that the embarrassment doesn’t feel as stifling like usual. Rather, in a weird way, it makes everything hotter, and he does not own enough brain capacity right now to decipher that. But he does add it to the list.

When your face is dangerously close to the waistband of his pyjama, Spencer tenses, holds his breath. Being shirtless is one thing, but… well.

“It’s okay, Spencer. We only do as much as you feel comfortable with”, you murmur, giving a small peck to the left of his belly button. You calmingly follow his sides with your hands, smiling at him with so much affection in your eyes that Spencer feels speechless, breathless, until the tension releases his muscles again and he melts into the sheets.

“’m just…”, he tries, he really tries so hard to tell you that he wants this more than anything he’s ever wanted but that he just feels… insecure.

You kiss his stomach again. “How about we only take off the pyjama? For now? If you want to take off your underwear too later, we can still do that.”

That… that’s actually a good idea. So, he nods.

“Words, angel.”

“Yes, yes. That’s- good.”

You look so proud of him. “You’re so good, Spencer. Perfect.”

He moans embarrassingly loud. He really should be more concerned about this. About how you are basically pulling him apart, thread by thread and he just lets you, willingly. How you know which threads to pull to reduce him to a sweaty mess in what felt like 0.2 seconds.

There’s a finger dipping beneath the waistband, moving back and forth along the newly exposed skin. Your eyes watch him intently, almost predator-like. A question is in there somewhere as well and Spencer nods again.

You help him lift his hips, help him pull down the pants. Spencer is kind of busy kicking his legs a little to shake them off completely but when he looks back and down himself to where you are hyper-focused on the outline of his cock through the thin fabric he blushes.

Even more when he notices the big, dark blue splotch in front of his underwear. That’s definitely never happened before. How embarrassing.

When you look up at him again, you’re also flushed. Eyes dark, wide, voice kind of unsteady. “Spencer, Spencer, can I?”

“Please”, and then you palm him with your hand, and it feels so good it takes all of his concentration to not come on the spot. He doesn’t know if he’ll survive this until you arrive to the main thing.

It’s not the first time someone has touched him like that, but it is the first time you are doing it, and it already feels better than anything he’s ever felt before. You’re either a wizard or Spencer is just biased because he thinks everything you do is ten times better than the same thing done by someone else.

Probably the first reason.

He has his head angled back, one of his arms thrown over his eyes. If he looked at you now, he’s pretty sure, he’d come. Visual stimulation on top of physical would probably be the end of him. It’s already too much, just feeling your hand move up and down his dick in various pressures. Almost as if you are testing what he likes best, and Spencer is definitely here for it. Definitely. He’s happy to just let you experiment with him until you know all the different ways to drive him mad with pleasure with just a few moves.

Which, you apparently already figured out, judging by the way Spencer can’t form a single coherent thought anymore. It’s already, so good, so freaking good holy shit, and you’re still not touching him. Still a layer of fabric between your hand and him and he kind of- just-

“Take it off?”

You still your hand, looking up at him. You look kind of crazed, almost a little pained. It takes two deep breaths for you to process what he just asked, eyes a little unfocused before they fix Spencer to the bed with an intensity that makes him feel unfocused. “You sure, angel?”

Spencer literally can’t do anything but nod. You stay in your position for some moments longer, before you sigh out a long breath, mumbling something that suspiciously resembles you’re gonna be the death of me. Spencer misses your warmth on top of him the second you hoist yourself up. It’s kind of crazy and destitute of him. You are literally right there but he’s waited for this for so long it feels like he’s suffocating without your weight pressing him down. Which is ironic and also, insane.

Your fingers are gentle, when they move under the stretchy fabric of his underwear. Even gentler when they pull down and down and down until Spencer is entirely naked in front of you.

Oh, he feels so exposed. While he has been the recipient of a mediocre hand job before, it’s been in his trousers. This is kind of the first time someone sees him naked like that, because school locker rooms and his mother don’t count.

He doesn’t dare look at you. If there’s anything akin to disappointment, not to mention disgust on your face- Spencer probably would have to jump out the window, stat. His gaze is frozen on his cock, steadily leaking precum on his stomach (which, embarrassing). He’s abashedly trying to insert himself into your point of view, tries to imagine what you think about seeing him like this. What you might think about his dick, if it’s too short or too thin or if it looks weird, if he should’ve shaved. If his legs look strange and too gangly now, or if his stomach connects to his pubic area wrong or-

“Holy shit”, you say, and Spencer is too curious for his own damn good sometimes, because he can’t force his gaze to stay away from you.

You look at him- like before. Reverent but more, so much more. He almost feels like a deity, the way you look at him. Someone to be awed by, someone that should be worshipped. Spencer feels his already in overdrive heartbeat quicken even more, blood flushing his cheeks so much it leaks down his throat, to his chest.

Spencer would literally kill to have you look at him like this for the rest of his life.

“Holy shit, Spencer”, you repeat, eyes now meeting his, “You’re like- a literal fucking dream. I cannot believe- you’re so beautiful, how are you so beautiful everywhere?”

Spencer whimpers and he needs you to touch him kiss him fuck him anything please now or he will absolutely die from heart palpitations.

Some of his despairing thoughts must’ve come through to you, because the next thing you do is moan, which is the best thing he’s ever heard. Then, you take off your sweater. Second to go is your cropped tank top and you aren’t wearing a bra and good heavens.

Pictures could never compare. Not even Botticelli could’ve adequately committed you to canvas.

Spencer must’ve taken some brain damage from seeing you half naked. He doesn’t remember you taking off the remainder of your clothes, nor does he remember you straddling him again. But, fuck.

Spencer kind of doesn’t use the f-word that often but-

fuckfuckfuckufuckfkcufuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckcufkc-

You’re warm against him, and wet, so freaking wet, and it feels so mind-blowingly good- it’s a miracle he’s still holding on. But-

“Won’t last long”, he gets out, breathy and whiny and just so goddamn fuzzy from pleasure. The world could literally perish right now, and he wouldn’t care. He can’t care, because this is the best thing that ever happened to him and he won’t ever care about anything else ever again other than feeling you, you you you you, against him.

“Spencer, Spencer”, you breathe, gasp, and fuck, the way you keep using his name. “Are you okay? Do you still want this?”

It’s ridiculous you even ask. But the warmth in his chest, the feeling of comfort and safety and ease – because everything with you is so easy, so natural - he feels with the way you look after him-

He feels your thumbs caressing his wet cheeks. You put small, sweet kisses all over his face. Take the time to brush away some of his sweat-sticky hair from his forehead. Place kisses there too. You end with a drawn out, gentle kiss to his lips.

“What do you say, sweetheart?”

There’s really only one way for him to answer that. He trusts you. Plain and simple. There’s no one else he could ever do this with.

“Yes, I want. Please.”

You kiss him again. “So good Spencer, you’re so fucking good to me. I can’t believe you are trusting me with this. You are incredible, angel.”

Spencer doesn’t know how it’s anatomically possible, but he blushes even harder. Also, feels his cock twitch against you because he apparently likes to be called good almost as much as he likes being good. For you. Only you. Jesus Christ.

“Do you have a condom?”, you ask and ah. Well.

“Suitcase”, and wow. First word with more than one syllable since you straddled him the first time. He’s being so brave right now. He deserves a medal. Proof of Being Able to Speak Polysyllabic Words While Getting Fucked (Almost).

There’s humour glistening in your eyes, when you hide a fake gasp behind your hand and say, “Oh my god, Spencer you dog. Can’t believe you planned this entire thing.”

Spencer almost chokes on his own spit. “N-no! I just- uh, like being prepared.”

You grind down a snort, drive your teeth into your lower lip. “In case you accidentally saw your coworker’s nudes and them being down to fuck you about it?"

Oh my god, you’re the most ridiculous person he’s ever met. He can’t stop himself from grinning because seeing you trying to keep your laughter at bay-

“Yes. That.”

“But what if- what if it was Rossi instead of you seeing them? How would’ve your plan worked out then, huh?”, you wheeze, shaking from literal suppressed laughter and Spencer makes a sound like a dying horse.

“Rossi? Rossi?”

“Oh my god, imagine it would’ve been Hotch. He would’ve probably fired me so hard and then called me a week later to disappointed-dad-talk me to come back but to please, refrain from bringing personal files to work in the future.”

Spencer laughs. He’s still rock-hard underneath you, but he’s laughing because that’s what you always do. Being so absurd and silly that he’s shocked to laughter.

He adores you with every fibre of his being.

“What the fuck?”, you ask, incredulous but laughing yourself, “Is my misery amusing to you?”

And Spencer feels like being a little bit of a brat. “Very.”

You flick his nose. Grumble something like I’ll show you misery and then you move your hips against his and Spencer sees stars. Let’s out an embarrassingly high whine.

Ah well. It was still worth it.

“Don’t move”, you order, when you climb down from him to retrieve a condom. Spencer watches you, lets himself look at you. All the times he’s wondered how it would be, how it would feel like, being in this kind of situation with you. He’s never in a million years thought it would feel so familiar. Like you’ve done this before, so many times that it’s just become something normal between you two. He’s actually relaxed. So turned on it feels like he’s going to burst any second, but he’s calm. He feels comfortable, so much so that it doesn’t even matter that it’s the first time he’s doing this and he’s so clueless about all of this.

But he knows, if it’s with you, he never ever has to worry about anything.

“Do you have lube as well?”, you ask, rifling through his suitcase and distracting him from his sappy thoughts.

“Hmm. No, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, angel”, you say while returning to Spencer, and the nickname kind of switches something off again in his brain. Perfect. He’s never going to be able to be normal again about that word.

“We’ll have to get some, for next time. Always feels better with it.”

Spencer hasn’t really registered more than next time next time next time-

He’s pulled out of his daze of knowing your intentions of this not only being a one-off thing, when you straddle him again, a bit lower on his legs. Spencer moans, loud and high, when you grab him by the base and god, fuck, his skin is tingling with anticipation.

With your other hand, you grab the condom and then use your teeth to open the packet, and his cock jumps in your hand. How are you so hot. How does everything you do turn him on so much, what.

He watches you take out the plastic ring as if he’s watching from above, out of his body. He watches as you position the condom over his tip and then pull it down, down and Spencer’s brain must be lagging because he feels everything with at least a two second delay and shit, god, son of a-

“You ready, baby?”

He makes a noise between a sob and a whine. He’s losing his mind. “Please please please-“

“Fuck, Spencer”, you whine, lift yourself up a bit with your legs and then you are sinking down on him, inch by agonizing inch.

It’s so good, it’s so good, you are so warm, so hot, and Spencer can’t stop making noises until your hips are flush to his and he’s inside you.

You let out a loud, drawn-out moan above him. “Fuck, fuck, Spencer. You feel so fucking good, holy shit.”

He feels like he’s one move away from coming. God, oh god, it feels so incredible.

“Can I move? Spencer, please?”, your voice is wrecked, you’re flushed down to your navel, and you’re the best thing he’s ever seen.

“Please please please please”, it’s the only word he remembers how to pronounce.

“Fuck”, you almost sob, lifting yourself almost completely off him. You lower yourself back down again, one swift move, and you both moan.

You pick up the pace a little, fucking him with still languid but purposeful thrusts. Every time his cock sinks back into you, Spencer feels bits and pieces of his sanity crumbling away. He can’t think, can’t speak, his mind so fogged up and fuzzy he’s having troubles remembering who he is. He’s so completely at your mercy he’d let you do anything to him.

That turns him on a worryingly huge amount. List, something about a list somewhere.

“Oh, god, look at you. Spencer, baby, angel. You feel so good inside of me, so good.”

He keens, grabs at your strong thighs bracketing his slim hips. Arches up into you, closerclosercloser-

“You like being good for me, right angel?”, you ask, hips slowing down to a gentle grinding that absolutely drives Spencer insane and he’s too far gone to even nod, “It suits you. Being so wrecked for me, moaning and shaking. God, fuck, you’re divine, Spencer, fuck.”

The pressure behind his cock, low in his stomach, that’s been building all evening, all week, holy shit, it’s too much. Spencer feels delirious, feels your hotness around him, feels your hands pressing his chest down into the bed. He’s going to die it feels so good.

“You going to come for me, Spencer? You gonna be good for me and come inside of me?”

Please please please please- it’s all he can think, all he can feel, because because-

You give a particularly hard thrust and-

Spencer’s coming, moaning and moaning, shaking everywhere. He’s coming and it feels so good, so fucking good. He’s never come so hard in his life before.

He might have blacked out a little. The next time he’s aware of something, it’s you cleaning him with a wet washcloth. Slow, and gentle and Jesus.

“What?”, is the first thing he manages to say, and you snicker beside him. You caress his face, hand running through his hair, down his chest. Peck his lips. You’re both still naked.

“Feeling good?”, you ask and what kind of question even is that. You just fucked the soul from his body, and you ask him-

“I almost died”, he says, tagging your name at the end with an incredulous tint to it.

You snort, setting the washcloth on the nightstand behind you. You lie down close to him, cuddling into his side. “That was the plan.”

“Killing me with sex?”

“Yep. That’s for ogling my nudes without my permission, you creep.”

He says your name again, exasperated but so fucking fond it’s a miracle you’ve never noticed his pining before. You shrug, pull a ‘what can you do face’. Spencer rolls his eyes and then, unceremoniously, flops on top of you.

“Uffff”, you press out. “You’re smothering me, penguin.”

Spencer shrugs and copies the expression you just did. You bark out a laugh.

“Ha! Didn’t know post-sex Spencer is such a cheeky little shit. I’ve created a monster.”

He can’t entirely control his face, some parts of a smile slipping into his features. He does manage to poke out his tongue at you though, before he buries his face in your neck.

Some minutes tick by, you both enjoying the other’s presence and warmth and idleness, before something in his brain-

“Wait-“, Spencer splutters, pushing himself away from you so that he can look at you. “Did you- did you even finish?”

He’s kind of horrified. He was so focused on his pleasure- he- how did he forget? He doesn’t remember you coming and oh no, he’s such an asshole, who doesn’t make sure the other person has come as well and-

“Spencer, Spencer”, you shush him, fingers trailing along his back, and he shivers, eyes rolling back.

“I made myself come right after, don’t worry. You were kind of busy in your post-orgasm, pussy-drunk coma.”

Spencer flushes. “But I wanted to…”

You laugh softly. “You can do whatever to me, next time, sweets. This was about you. We’ll go on a date as soon as we’re back home. Fucking Florida is driving me nuts.”

Oh, he suddenly feels shy. A date? You want to go on a date with him?

“Really?”, he asks, and he hates how insecure he sounds.

You send him an unbelieving look. “Uh, what about the last hour makes you think otherwise? Seriously, Spencer, we need to work on your confidence.”

“Okay”, he mutters, a little bit pout-y and you scoff, pulling him down on top of your chest again.

There, with your hands painting patterns on his back and him completely lost in your warmth and familiarity, Spencer thinks that maybe, Florida isn’t that bad.

--

Bonus

“So, then. Made any scientific discoveries last night, pretty boy?”

Spencer chokes on his coffee.

“What?”

“Nothing”, his ‘friend’ says, smirking and leaning against his table, “You just seem to have figured out that little problem that’s been keeping that pretty head of yours all messed up.”

Spencer feels himself flush. Stupid body and stupid involuntary, physiological reactions. Morgan picks up on it, of course.

“Ohhhhh, want to share with the class what those discoveries were?”

Briefly, so very briefly, Spencer thinks of his self-compiled list but- no no no no.

“Shut up, Morgan.”

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

tags: @sebastiansstanswhore @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @wasitforrevenge @wannabewolf @tommorecommendedfics @winterhi09 @theoraekenslover @chaewondrful @okeyhoezayy @busy-buzzing @laurakirsten0502 @redros3y @trashxqueen @kitty-kei @so-long-daisymay @hayleythecannibal @jsnsnsnszjzj @reeidsluv @kayane28 @moonysreid @desperately-seeking-serotonin @munsonslunchbox @tul1p-mimi @anuttellaa @pinkgomie @elizabethmidnight2017 @evrmorets @cyanidebitsg @bangchansdog @pinterestwhore145 @some-one-yiu-dont-kno @emma-e-a

i hope these work lmao, also let me know if you wanna be on my eternal tag list for any future Spencer fic ;)

[lullabyes22-blog]

Forward, but Never Forget/XOXO - Ch: 29 - Cusp

Snippet:

FLASH MESSAGE

RE: SUBJECT: SUBJECT CHANGE

I'm not here to take ur blame.

I didn't make u a coward.

u ran away when it mattered most.

END OF MESSAGE

FLASH MESSAGE

SUBJECT: SUBJECT CHANGE

I asked you to come with me.

We could have stopped him together.

But you refused.

Now, look at you.

END OF MESSAGE

FLASH MESSAGE

SUBJECT: LIES

Don't.

Don't u dare.

I had a home with him.

u tried to steal it from me.

END OF MESSAGE

FLASH MESSAGE

RE: SUBJECT: LIES

No.

He stole it from you.

When he killed Vander. When he drove Vi away. When he took over the Lanes.

He stole from everyone.

Now he's Chancellor.

And what are you left with?

A tower.

A broken city.

Nothing but a pile of bones.

END OF MESSAGE

FLASH MESSAGE

SUBJECT: LIES

He's the only family I have left.

u were the one that turned ur back on me.

u left. Just like Vi.

END OF MESSAGE

FLASH MESSAGE

RE: SUBJECT: LIES

And you stayed behind.

I guess we both chose our family.

END OF MESSAGE

FLASH MESSAGE

SUBJECT: LIES

What do u want from me, Ekko?

END OF MESSAGE

FLASH MESSAGE

SUBJECT: TALK

To talk.

This is our city.

We can help it.

END OF MESSAGE

FLASH MESSAGE

SUBJECT: NO

The last thing I need is ur words.

Leave me alone.

u did once already.

u always do.

That's why u lost me.

END OF MESSAGE

FLASH MESSAGE

RE: SUBJECT: TALK

I didn't lose you.

You're still here.

And you're the only one who can make a difference.

END OF MESSAGE

FLASH MESSAGE

SUBJECT: PLUG URSELF 2 WITH AN AUGMENTED CUCUMBER 2 (BIGGER & BETTER)

What r u talking about?

END OF MESSAGE

FLASH MESSAGE

SUBJECT: RE: PLUG URSELF 2 WITH AN AUGMENTED CUCUMBER 2 (BIGGER & BETTER)

I've seen you.

Out in the city at night.

Our lookouts have too.

You're searching for something.

What are you trying to do?

END OF MESSAGE

FLASH MESSAGE

SUBJECT: NOSY

I'm doing what I want. And it's none of ur business.

END OF MESSAGE

FLASH MESSAGE

SUBJECT: CURIOUS

What are you looking for?

You've got kids spraypainting X's all over the place.

What do they mean?

END OF MESSAGE

FLASH MESSAGE

SUBJECT: STALKING

u don't know how to stay out of anything, do you?

END OF MESSAGE

FLASH MESSAGE

SUBJECT: CURIOUS

I know you have the Hex gem.

I saw the glow. On the day you blew up the Bridge.

I know you're using it to search for something.

I don't know what. But I know you'll tell me.

Because this is the future you want, isn't it?

Zaun free.

Without Shimmer. Without the chem-barons. Where the people rule themselves. Where we don't have to hide, and live like rats.

Isn't that what you want?

Isn't that what you dream of?

END OF MESSAGE

FLASH MESSAGE

SUBJECT: RE CURIOUS

( ︶ ͜ʖ ︶)_╭∩╮

END OF MESSAGE

AO3 - Forward, But Never Forget/XOXO

FFnet - Forward, But Never Forget (XOXO)

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[madrone33]

I have been CHILLING this week post-Vengeance saga release! I managed to avoid debilitating stress and anxiety from the onslaught of fan stuff by simply avoiding all social media for the first two days, so it's been good!

However, I am now BACK, dumping my immediate reaction of the saga from a week ago. I thought I was ready. I was not ready. 600 Strike blew my mind. I was left staring blankly at my ceiling. Jorge please rest sometime, I'm begging you. The amount of talent beaming through my screen is exhausting even me.

Also, to every cast member and collaborator and behind the scenes person: y'all are amazing. Like seriously. I hope you all get a yummy drink and a cozy blanket and just. Bask in the satisfaction of a job well done. Hats off to y'all fr.

Anyways! I keysmashed the following at around midnight, 14 hours before the livestream ('cause australia is the superior timezone /j). Be warned there's LOTS of swearing 'cause sleep deprivation + incoherent excitement lol

AHHH IT'S GO TIME

Ok it's starting the same as the Goodspeed festival showed. Tho, the first lead in sound thing reminds me of Lucids.

Gorgeous vocals. Hate Calypso, love Wangui fr

"Let me speak!" She really doesn't care about his feelings huh. I noticed in LIP as well, she always makes it about her, which is absolutely in character.

Those ensemble harmonies tho!!

"... You do?" Girl you literally told him to lie smh

"Why in the world won't you love me too?" 'Cause he has a WIFE

IT'S HERMES TIME

FSA melody? YO??

"Cause I had one goal in mind..." the silence where the crew's chorus would come in is PAINFUL

BAG?? HERMES!!

"Hello old friend!" Grinning so hard rn

"Well it's a little bit ✨dangerous✨" AHHH IT'S HAPPENING

Fingertapping and headbopping to this chorus

"Put your whole braiin in it!" I love how he says that sm

"And lastly the wind bag" NEW STUFF

WINIONS

Wow ok I did not expect the wind bag to show up again. Tho it makes sense; this is probs the storm that Ody told Sirenelope kept blocking the way home

ODY SINGING THE CHORUS!!!!

RUTHLESSNESS MENTION

"Hermes! Thank you" AHHH THE CALLBACK! He sounds so tired and like down to his bones grateful this time 🥺

"I'm not the one who fought for you!" MY EYES WIDENED SO FAR. WE ALMOST GOT AN ATHENA NAMEDROP. I'll settle for the reference to her

Okeee. Charybdis!!

Oooh it's just like in the reference vid. No lyrics for this start part!

The 5/4 is amazing. And the electric guitar!!

God this song is SO BADASS

LETS GOOOO ODY!!!

ahhh I KNEW there'd be some sort of soft KYFC esque "I can't wait to make some new memories" type verse AND I WAS RIGHT

he sees ithaca!! Oh god poseidon's gonna show up isn't he

my heart's beating so fast i'm scared

PENELOPEEE

the ELECTRONIC DISTORTION OH NO IT'S HIM

RIGHT INTO GET IN THE WATER AHHH

"Coward" AHHHH I CAN'T BELIEVE WE'RE FINALY HEARING THIS FOR REAL

"That's when our paths collide!" THE RASP

"Now get in the water" Oh shiiiit here we go

the choir is so eerie

"GET IN THE WATER" THE GROWL

"aren't you tired poseidon" ooh it's this part!!

ha he changed it to ten years instead of eight like the demo had XD

"maybe you can learn to forgive" the line from that one snippet!

"No" oop

"DIE" DAMN that deep echo!!

*underwater sounds* oh shit ody's fucking dying

NO! FUCKING POLITES

EURY

ANTICLEA

FUCK YOU JORGE

THE CREW

WAITING??? EXCUSE ME WTF

AHHHHHH WHY TF DOES JAY LOVE HURTING US SO

HUH? HUH??? WHAT WAS THAT! AND THERE'S A FUCKING AD. Probs good, I need the break but WAHT. I KNEW he'd do another fucking polites reference gods damnit jorge WHEN I CATCH YOU

Ok time to hear 600 strike. Holy shit we're here

ELECTRIC GUITAR LETS GOOO

Aeolus theme. IS HE GONNA OPEN THE WIND BAG AGAIN??

600 MEN MOTIF HOLY SHIT

ANIME SCREAM

HOly shit there's magic sounds happening. I'm really curious about whatever Jorge's cooking up for the animatic in the livestream, 'cause I have no clue what's happening rn 👀

"For every comrade!" FSA melody!

"all those _ who were slaughtered by your hand" hmm I can't quite hear what he's saying there?

wait wait wait he's ACTUALLY using the power of his 600 men!!

"You idiot" damn lol

DIFFERENT BEAST ODY HOLY SHIT

is that a blade sound effect?

WAIT DID HE JUST STAB HIM WITH HIS OWN TRIDENT

HOLY SHIT ODY

HOLY FUCK

POP OFF ODY

OMG "MONSTER" AND THEN "RUTHLESSNESS"

BRO HE'S BEGGING??

*trident drops* hot damn ody

"Next to my wife." OHHHHHHH MIC DROP

Holy FUCK that was crazy

I'm gonna listen to it again.

Ok but holy shit Odysseus literally just tortured a god until he gave in?? Daym ody

Tho I like how he tries using open arms first, and then ruthlessness. He's kinda found a balance? I say kinda, 'cause he went hard on the ruthlessness, but since he sincerely tried to ask Poseidon to just drop the whole thing already, his later actions in 600 Strike feel more warranted.

I honestly don't know how Jorge keeps doing it. He just keeps topping himself! Like! Thunder Bringer? And then God Games?? And now Six Hundred Strike??? They just keep getting better! Banger after banger, like!! How.

Wait I just wanna. Sit with it. Imma lie down and stare at the ceiling for a bit, aight?

... I am shooketh.

But BRO THAT WAS INSANE! ODY FUCKED HIM UPPP

AMAZING BRAVO EXTRODINARY INCREDIBLE SHOWSTOPPING GORGEOUS WONDERFUL HOW DARE YOU

[umbralsound-xiv]

Prompt #5 - Stamp

Characters: Vairg, Q'kura

Age: 27

Location: Eastern Thanalan, Present Day

Warnings: Violence

"Vairg! VAIRG!" The shriek of the Viera's name echoed down the hallway of the compound, the one who had screamed them half thrown and half dragged from the infirmary.

"I swear i was coming to tell you! I just-- I J-just---" Q'kura's words are interrupted with a shriek, as he's launched into a wall by the much, much larger man.

"Coward." Vairg snarls. Those heavy metal boots take a few steps forth to close the gap he'd made between them, though the look on his face is far from anger. A small, slow smirk curls over his lips, full of malice and some twisted sense of amusement. Q'kura fills his lungs again, to offer some protest, or an explanation, or perhaps simply to beg.

"You have always been a coward. Couldn't even deliver me the news when it was your duty. Are you frightened of me, Q'kura...?"

Coughing as he caught his breath, the wind knocked out of him, Q'kura clutches his side, wincing. Through the lack of vision and the squint of his pained visage, he can just about make out that mismatched green and gold gaze. "N-no, o-of course not, i-i..."

A metal boot is delivered to his chest for the answer, though it doesn't push down hard. Yet. "No?"

Q'kura's breath wheezes out of him, tears lining his gaze that he's terrified of letting fall. No doubt the scene has no shortage of onlookers, but they're smart enough to stay out of Vairg's way. That metal boot pushes a little firmer.

"Y-yes..." Q'kura chokes. It only serves to widen that wolfish grin of Vairg's even further.

"Coward." Vairg replies, removing his boot, head tilted as he simply watched. "You're only here because you've some talent in healing."

"I... H-have plenty of talent in healing..." The arguement was given, and momentarily, the smirk at Vairg's lips leaves... Only to return wider.

The boot he'd had on Q'kura's chest only moments ago is swiftly raised to crash down into his knee, shattering the bone beneath, fragments rupturing through the flesh. The scream that leaves the Seeker is a howl of agony; he can no longer form words, wracked by sobs as he clutched the bloody mess that was his kneecap, tangled through cloth.

"You have plenty of talent as a healer. Surely you can fix it?" Vairg's words are mocking, delivered with a laugh. Satisfied with his amusement for now, he turns to depart.

"Coward." He calls again, over his shoulder. "You should have died with the rest."

[kv-lore]

The Writing on the Wall

In the wastes between worlds, the kreket species manages a meager existence marred by constant loss and uncertainty for the future. This story follows Zellek, a high-ranking kreket in the Jaspen Clan, who is struggling with the recent failure of a mission. This is a low-key horror story which is meant to lend itself to interpretation, but it isn't written to be confusing.

2816 words, or about 9 pages long

Themes: Death, Inevitability, Dread

Kreket species ref by @alphagodith is here

You can also find the original PDF for this story on my FA here

Under the endless dark of the space between universes, lit only by the light of the Infinite River, Zellek cursed as one of his obelisks of depleted ley crystal abruptly half-exploded into a sea of dust that cascaded down into the Abyss. Left behind was what looked now to be some kind of half-eaten bone, and the name once carefully inscribed onto its surface in blackened blood was barely legible.

B A _ L _ _ N E | J A _ P _ _

On one hand, it would be foolish to rebuild it. The multiverse had claimed sovereignty over what was rightfully its own; and, clearly, this was a less stable spot than Zellek anticipated. On the other hand, while the rest of the obelisks stood, it would be of the utmost disrespect to not attempt to rebuild a shattered comrade.

It took another two pulses of the River for the three spires to stand strong together again.

Zellek knelt in front of them all with quaking muscles. Whatever words he could say would be for his own fleeting benefit, and whatever words he could write upon this crystal would not be enough. This would need to suffice.

“I’m sorry,” he could not help but whisper as he hauled himself to his feet. A quake shook the platform. The sound of more crystal tinkling into space rang in Zellek’s ears. Even as he tried to ready himself to leap to another blasted floating platform, a violent rumble made him stumble and recalibrate before making the jump. He did not look back. He did not stop when a boom from behind rattled through his plated scales, and he forced himself not to blink as he threw himself onto a huge shining pillar. His back spines and talons stabbed into it with a criiiik, but it held firm, and he did not hesitate to scuttle upward, ascending ever higher toward the Infinite River and the upper layers of the floating isles.

Gods damn it all. It was selfish of him to want to keep their monuments separate from the rest. Even if he had scouted that lonely abode countless times for exactly this purpose, even if trying to set the obelisks up at the current resting grounds would come with a wretched, inquisitive audience, and even if he had told himself the last time that he would never add more names to that list, those reservations were all excuses to not do what had to be done.

“I know this must be your doing,” Zellek growled to himself as he climbed farther and farther up the towering pillar. Even not considering the lesson the multiverse seemed to be telling him, the feeling, too, was unmistakable; a twisted, cold hand grabbing and wrenching his heart, all while his muscles still shuddered from the strain of doing their job. If he wanted, he could shift his cells and cut off the neurons to shut up their incessant firing, but he did not. He wasn’t a coward.

With a grunt, Zellek leapt onto a towering mesa supported only by scraggly strands of fading ley-energy which stretched into the abyss far below. Even after cycles and cycles, gravity still remained the same here: weak and pathetic, as if it had given up on grasping anything worthwhile that passed it by. No wonder all the old towers the Jaspen clan had built were long gone. Did they sink into the collective, endlessly flat mass? Did they simply drift away? Did they disperse into particles so fine, no trace of them could be sensed? Nobody would ever know, because there were no living witnesses of the catastrophe, nor was there any remaining evidence. Still, there was a place Zellek wanted to stop by, if only to take a moment to rest and delay his responsibilities further. There was time. Too much of it, in fact, but, regardless, Zellek shifted the form of his legs to layer them with more muscle so he could propel himself far into the distance with each bounding leap and hurry up the mindless commune. Plus, each bound had the added benefit of telling him just how deep into the wastes he threw himself. It was one of the only consistent ways to not become lost.

It took approximately fifty six and a quarter leaps to arrive at his first nesting ground; but, while he was sailing through the forty ninth leap, he spied a glint of bright cyan among the endless dark purples and blue-blacks. The glow of another life form. Thus, another kreket. They were tall, lithe, and they were here, a place only the eldest would have reason to care about.

It had to be Lathriss. Visiting this place was not something Zellek had seen her do before, but Tarren, the only other option, was not a sentimental type of beast. Her head was facing away from him, and she didn’t move even as Zellek came to a skidding stop almost an entire leap away from her. Had something happened back with the rest of the Jaspen clan in the Spires? No, otherwise she would be with them. The only reason she would be so far removed was if she expected to not be sought out for a moment. The thought made Zellek smile as he got on all fours to crawl quickly across the field toward her. What delicious justice for him to be the one to suddenly hop in on her moment of isolated peace for a change.

“I can hear your scuttling,” she growled as he came close. “Speak.”

“My first monuments, which I attempted to build on the outer rims, erupted, so I will be rebuilding in the resting grounds shortly.”

“You were foolish for attempting to build anything in an unmarked space, Zellek.”

“Maybe, but this place is proof enough that nobody can ever predict what is stable and what is not.”

Her low and lengthy chitter was one of displeasure, and when she turned to see him getting up onto his hind legs, he half expected to be kicked back down. Now that would be reminiscent of younger days. Instead, she stepped forward and grabbed one of his back spines to look it over.

“You’re nearly out of room to paint additional rings of remembrance. If I didn’t know better, I would say that, as the common denominator, it is your fault that so many teams do not return.”

“I’m better at running away than the rest.”

“And,” she growls, pushing him away, “you’re our closest mouthpiece to XeXa. Perhaps, before It grows bored of you, helping others gain Its favor is where you would be better served.”

“Noted.” Great. As if he knew why XeXa entertained his quest and so quickly came to his rescue during times of crisis. If she started asking him those questions again, they would be trapped in a loop for ages. There are real answers to be found elsewhere. “If allowed: a question about your motives here.”

“Go ahead.”

“Nostalgia, to pay respects, or as a place of comfort and silence to think?”

“You’re bold for suggesting the first option.” Lathriss’ tone is as cold and dry as the Abyss. “It should be obvious that it’s the third.”

“There are plenty of other places which would serve that purpose better.”

“And?”

Of course she would make him admit his insinuation, even though she knows damned well what his answer will be. “I’m saying I’m not satisfied with your answer.”

“And I’m not satisfied with the three options.” Lathriss stepped up to tower over him, her fangs showing through her deep frown as her back spines twitched. Her tone grew shaky. “You’re better than those types of suggestions, Zellek. Black and white. Either or. Why do you come here? The answers you say you’re looking for won’t be found in an unmarked graveyard. Or is this where you meet XeXa Itself?”

Turning the question on him struck Zellek as a natural avoidance strategy, but there was no reason he shouldn’t answer. As long as they remained on topic, he could circle back around to what he wanted, and more effectively so. “To pay my respects and to remind myself of what came before us.”

“There was nothing that came before us. It was always “us”, and I do not understand why you would treat them as others. We still bear their name and we still carry on their work. I know how you feel about that, but as long as I remain”—she patted the stylized number one painted onto her leg—“then we will continue our defiance. At least you appreciate their legacy enough to not let their names fall entirely into the Abyss.”

Zellek bowed his head and emitted a two-toned affirmative chitter, but she still grabbed his snout and neck to upturn his gaze and squeeze him into submission. They locked eyes. He didn’t make a sound, nor did he move. Her claws dug into the plates on his neck, leaving lasting puncture marks over the three slashes which usually denote his position of leadership. A show of power, nothing more. More concerning was when her hand slipped from his neck to his back, pushing him into her chest.

“You’re lucky I’m so patient,” she whispered, leaning her face down close to his. “But after cycles of toying around with each other—such as when these nests were still standing, or during all that time we spent building the new home, and now, when you leave me to govern while you run around trying to find the secrets of life— I’m growing to expect something more. Our clan needs the guidance of our union, or our ranks will endlessly dwindle. You know this, but you run, because you don’t like obvious paths. You never did. Consider this your only warning.”

Finally, release. When she stepped away from him, Zellek’s muscles still remained tense. Here he came to rest, not to stand vigil against somebody who he should be able to trust. As he brushed his hand over his neck and reformed his three slashes, a light heat alighted his chest. “If you saw my point of view and put more resources into my vision for the kreket, they could already be under the guidance of “our union”. Your own stubbornness holds you back.”

“I could say the same thing about you, Zellek.” Her mandibles clacked together in frustration as she lowered herself onto all fours. A combative stance? It could be, so he swiftly followed suit; but the next chitter that left her was a long, low one while her back spines wilted. “Everyone, including myself, would better understand your vision if you could decide on what it is. Last I heard, you were still looking. And I, still waiting. I won’t apologize for being restless, nor will I apologize for doing my duty.”

The heat which had stormed Zellek’s heart shifted into something that made his abdomen ache. He couldn’t look her in the eyes any longer, his face twisting into a snarl while his own mandibles also clacked together. “The wait frustrates me almost as much as it does you, but I can’t let myself die without knowing what we are here for. As I currently understand, that is the reason why I have XeXa’s favor. It’s not easily passed on.”

“Clearly not.”

Lathriss turned, her whiplike tail still close enough to whap Zellek’s snout. Petty, but justified. When she moved to leave, prowling in the direction he had just spent all that time leaping away from, he chittered for her attention and fell in line by her side. “I already have plans of something to do before I rebuild the monuments, but I would not be opposed to discussing an effective strategy of approaching the enemy if that’s what you think is necessary. We have plenty of time before we return.”

A relieved smile crossed her face, but she swiftly shoved it away to don her “stern leader” look. Even when they were alone, in the middle of the remnants of nests they once matured in, she still thought she needed to mask. A deep cold pinched Zellek’s heart again, taunting him with its unease while he and Lathriss had their age-old conversation about tactics on the trek back to the Spires.

There, they split paths with a promise that whatever Zellek had planned wouldn’t take long. Weaving through the nesting district was a slog of constantly telling the others that he would explain what happened on his last mission in the upcoming pulses and to leave him be. To their credit, they stood aside quickly, and he was allowed to ascend up to one of the many takeoff pads without further harassment. There, where the culmination of work from hundreds of cycles of kreket runic scribes was written, he crawled on all fours into the center and dug in his claws. Heat first surged through his plates, then his skin, then his blood, before it all was sucked away by the lines drawn into the crystal. The platform cracked and rumbled, alight with new shimmers of blue life, while a familiar chill slipped into the place where heat once surged through Zellek’s body.

DOUBLING BACK FOR A SINGLE ACT OF DEFIANCE IS A MOVE THEY WILL NOT EXPECT OF YOU, BUT THAT DOES NOT MEAN YOU WILL HAVE A COPIOUS AMOUNT OF TIME.

The platform’s surge of movement upward pushed Zellek further into the ground as he looked up to the shining universes surrounding the Infinite River far above. His eyes burned from the strain, but he didn’t stop his scan until…there it was. The shining surface of the universe his strike team had been expelled from.

YOU HAVE OFTEN ARGUED THE FUTILITY OF LEAVING A MARK UPON THE UNIVERSES, YET THOSE THREE DEATHS PUSH YOU TO THIS LEVEL OF ACTION. YOU ARE GROWING DESPERATE, BECAUSE YOU DO NOT WISH TO ACCEPT THE ANSWER STARING YOU DOWN.

“Entertain me,” Zellek growled before he was propelled into the light. As requested, he was whisked away to the only world supporting life, and according to the whim of XeXa, he was thrown into the savannahs during dry season. Anticipating a chase, small critters immediately yelped and skittered away from the new hulking beast that had entered their midst, but Zellek only sleepily pulled himself to his feet with blurry vision and scowled at the scenery. Scattered, gnarled trees. Low lying plants that blew according to the constant winds. There would be no isolated mountain cliff face or safeguarded cavern here for him to make his mark. No settlement was in sight to vandalize. No roads to deface.

It was ludicrous that the kreket were ever jealous of the way the inhabitants of this world lived. An easier life was still a life. A beginning and an end, whether short or long. Meanwhile, the creatures of this world constantly lied to themselves, while the kreket experienced the depths of what the multiverse had to offer so completely that there could be no denying it. What was better, living a luxurious lie or living a nightmarish reality?

TRUTH IS WORTH ANY COST.

Fungal growths, glowing with intense magic no other nearby living organism could handle, were already beginning to spread across the low lying plants. The wind had grown ever stronger, and with it an odd, eerily familiar scent. The scurrying of the animals had grown louder, as if they, too, were trying to run from some ill fate.

“Fine.” Zellek slammed his claw into the closest tree and began carving into its toughened skin. First, a semi-circle. Then, four dots beneath it. Left, middle-left, middle-right, right. Three lines filled the empty space between the dots, converging onto a central point in the space below the semi-circle. Finally, he added the final line extending down from that point.

THAT’S ALL? THE SYMBOL OF YOUR CLAN AND NOTHING MORE?

“They’ll get the message regardless.” Zellek stepped back from the tree and tried to take a moment to admire the clean lines left behind, but the air was growing hotter and hotter. Fungi continued to spread, and their glow nearly blinded him. Though Zellek did not dare to turn around, he felt XeXa’s hollow eyes staring through his back. Better It than the protector of this universe, who would be eager for a second helping of kreket. Either way, his time was up. “Enough. Take me home.”

A wave of nausea shook through Zellek’s abdomen as he came face-to-face with unyielding, consuming light, then the stagnant dark of the Abyss, then the dull light of the crystals that made up the Spires the Jaspen clan now called home. It was time to get back to work.

HE NEVER SAW THE WILDFIRE THAT HAD BEEN BEARING DOWN SO QUICKLY MOMENTS BEFORE.

[saturns-cryptid]

crashes down through the ceiling tiles

- "hibiki" comes from the name of chai's favorite action-rhythm game where you play as a rebel taking down a corrupt corporation :^) his belt chain thing was a preorder bonus

- both peppermint and macaron are vegetarian

- peppermint and chai became roommates after the events of the game

- chai's right arm injury is monoparesis caused by a stroke he had sometime in high school, treatment was ineffective at helping him regain his motor skills so he sought out project armstrong

- it's implied the game took place over a day or two at most, but i like to stretch it to four because it just seems way too short to me. i could see chai doing some of the fights while sleep deprived, but not all of them

day 1: most of the early day is just chai getting through all the armstrong onboarding stuff, QA-1MIL and rekka are fought in the afternoon. him and peppermint have to lay low for the rest of the day because she knows kale will be looking for her with security drones now

day 2: chai sneaks into R&D in the early morning, is captured by the afternoon, and it's night by the time him and korsica are taken to the hideout

day 3: him and korsica are recovering for pretty much the whole day so it isn't until the evening that they go after mimosa

day 4: chai sneaks through production late night/early morning (this is outlined ingame so this part isn't really a headcanon) and it takes the whole day to get to roquefort and then kale

HAII i enjoy this assortment of headcanons nods nods but i especially enjoy the last one!! i never really did register how long the story is in the game now that i think about it... but i'll get to that!

(1) DUDE i have seen plenty of people argue for a different headcanon that hibiki is either the name of a band or the name of a fashion brand but i have not heard of this angle!! do you think this also explains his shoes or 808's collar though... bc if it does, i totally think at one point post game, chai and peppermint find out they like the same game and it actually ends up being something that brings them closer

(2) but also do you think it counts as cannibalism if peppermint has peppermint candy/tea and macaron has a macaron though LOL

(3) WHY NOT EVERYONE COWARD... /j lh ... but actually though i totally think it would hit home for chai to solidify that sense of belonging somewhere because i think he's been a drifter / loner for most of his life. FOUND FAMILY FOR THE WIN

(4) you are so big of brain, asker!! i LOVE seeing people's takes on how chai's disability came to be. i will be shelving this one away in my brain nods nods

(5) OKAY i ended up scrubbing through the game cutscenes while i was on break at work and like. DUDE i had no idea the story progressed so quickly LMAO. it really does seem like... it all took place somewhere between 24-36 hours?? Peppermint really worked Chai to the bone as the field man dude holy shit LMFAOOO bro probably crashed and slept like 15 hours after all that. i will be adopting this, BUT... how long do you think it would take if you also include the second arc / the secret SPECTRA doors + the underground lab? i personally think it would take an extra week since they're. really difficult sobs

[tyrianludaship]

(Unlike the Medic playlist, there's no Content Warning for explicit lyrics. Although, some of the songs have mentions and references to possible religious trauma and religious concepts in general. So if you don't feel comfortable over those concepts, it's perfectly fine to not engage.)

the Engineer playlist is more gritty and dark since I was going to make a softer playlist for him but I didn't know what genre would fit him. it was easier to pick a genre for him if he's scary I guess. At least it wasn't country music (lighthearted; there's some pretty good country songs)

Not really a selfship playlist aside from like 2 songs (The Garden by the Crane Wives and It Will Come Back by Hozier) If I were to think about it, they're probably the type of songs he would sing to himself when he kills an enemy merc (he is very normal; i promise /j)

Song List

(Broken Bones by KALEO) (The Garden by the Crane Wives) (It Will Come Back by Hozier) (Bless Your Soul by The Bones of JR Jones) (Death don't have no mercy by Ethan Daniel Davidson) (Hell's Bells by Cary Ann Hearst) (Conman Coming by Monica Heldal) (Barley by Birds of Chicago) (God's Gonna Cut You Down by Johnny Cash) (Blood of Angels by Brown Bird)  (Finger to the Bone by Brown Bird) (Civilian by Wye Oak) (Black Dog Sin by Joshua Burnside) (Lungs By Townes Van Zandt) (Dead Man's Pocket by Vudu Sister) (Psalms by Vudu Sister) (The Devil Wears a Suit and Tie by Colter Wall) (Danger and Dread by Brown Bird) (Old Time Religion by Parker Millsap) (Graves by Whiskey Shivers)

Proships DNI

[psychotic-nonsense]

you mentioned you plan on expanding on some of the ficlets you posted on ao3 i was curious if i'd ask for a broken heart (if it meant you'll fix me) will be one that you'll expand on? i hope so!

Not originally, I'm afraid, however there are some options in case I get the patience for them.

1) A 5+1 type continuation of that ficlet, about Steve's injuries growing up, him seeing how it changed the demeanor of the people around him (all for the sake of a social image), and him using it as a toxic cure for his loneliness. Maybe between the 5 and 1 would be that ficlet of Steve confessing it to Eddie, then the 1 would be Eddie being everything Steve once needed to cross a broken bone to have.

Or 2) I finish up that ficlet's inspiration, which was basically the same thing but it would instead end up with Steddie getting together and getting spicy (😏😏😏 /j). Eddie wants to try something new, but it strikes a nerve way too close and Steve breaks, confessing his messed up relationship with pain and begging for Eddie to stop messing with him and just follow the only path Steve has ever known. Which is the exact opposite of everything Eddie wanted, and he immediately shuts the night down and comforts Steve, begging him for forgiveness. There's communication and angst and oh boy a heck of a lotta crying, but it ends off with Steve finally feeling safe in a relationship.

More or less the same idea, but I'm a far bigger coward towards the second, despite it being a very near and dear idea that I've had as a WIP basically since Vol 2 of S4 released. Glad you liked that ficlet tho, and I hope my 2am rambling was a satisfactory answer :]

[mitfloya]

𓏲 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖ 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒎𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒕 𝒓𝒐𝒔𝒆 . . .

. . . 𝑯𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝒎𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒄𝒂𝒏'𝒕 𝒍𝒆𝒕 𝒈𝒐 ⋆⑅˚₊

౨ৎ name: Felsha/Floya/El (female) pronouns: she/her ♡ South East Asian babyy, red is my blood and white is my bones ♡ Gemini - Intj - 9teen ♡ Thriller and horror loverrrrr (but a coward when playing an actual horror game) ♡ Currently busy on: writing mostly, practice drawing, learning playing guitar, grinding games, learning languages ♡ Currently playing: Love and Deepspace, Reverse 1999 (on hold), Ensamble Stars ♡ Likes: bread and baked goods, daydreaming, listening to people talk (bkn nguping >:| ) ♡ Dislikes: spiders. hot weather. strong perfume (I swear, it made my head throb each inhale) ♡ Loves to talk a lot but has social anxiety ♡ Jack of all trades, master of none ༎ຶ‿༎ຶ

Current Obsession : vanoss crew (ever since 2014), smi7y crew, love and peepspace, path to nowhere, ballet, bloodborne, fantastic beast movie series (idk which house I want to be in), analog horror catalogue, cold cases and crimes

𓏲 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖ 𝑲𝒆𝒆𝒑 𝒎𝒆 𝒔𝒂𝒇𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝑰 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒉𝒐𝒎𝒆 . . .

Anime n' Manga

On hold: Maria no Dazai, Koiseyo Mayakashi Tanshi-domo, After God, Gachiakuta, Kaiju No.8, Ron Kamonohashi: Deranged Detective, The World of Otome Game is Tough for Mobs (manga), Bakuten, Kimi ni Todoke, Tokyo Aliens, Gokurukugai, Welcome to The Ballroom, Chainsaw Man, JJK, Haikyuu, Bleach, Demon Slayer, Spyxfamily, Lycoris Recoil, Blue Period, Bungou Stray Dogs, Toilet Bound Hanako-san, and so on.

Finished: The Promised Neverland (manga), Tokyo Revengers, Wonder Egg Priority (anime), Ranking of Kings (anime), Youkai Apartment, How to Keep a Mummy, Romantic Killer, Carole and Tuesday, Yuri on Ice!!, Kageki Shoujo, Tsurune, Horimiya.

Games

Have played: Love and Deepspace, Blooming Panic, Our Life: Beginnings & Always (not finished yet), Mystic Messenger, Dangerous Fellows, Obey Me, Bayonetta, The Last of Us, Persona 3, Harry Potter: Magic Awakened, and so on.

I swear I am not that obsessed with otome games, it just happens I have tried playing each one of them

Others: Touchstarved, Light and Night, Bloodborne, Elden Ring, Detroit: Become Human, Entire series of Persona, Resident Evil, COD, Baldur's Gate III, Fear and Hunger, Little Nightmares, Undertale, Fran Bow, Hogwarts Legacy, FNAF, and so on.

Webtoon n' Manhwa

On hold: School Bus Graveyard, Villains are Destined to Die, The Broken Ring: This Marriage Will Fail Anyway, Roxana, Not Even Bones, Neon Revenge, Homesick, Ghoib Academy, Her Mannequin, A Man who Wants to Wear a Veil, Suitor Armor, Cursed Princess Club, The Witch and The Bull, Made of Stardust, The End of You, Welcome to Rivenrows, Remarried Empress, Your Throne, Men of the Harem, Of all things I became a crow, Second Life of a Trash Princess, Another Happy Day for The Villainess, and so on.

Finished: Concubine Walkthrough, To Melt Your Frozen Heart, Beware the Villainess!

Music n' Bands

Emotional Oranges, Mamamoo, PLAVE, Ado, DAY6, Chase Atlantic, Josh Makazo, Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky, Weathers, 5SOS, Keshi, Laufey, Mitski, Ramengvrl, BETWEEN FRIENDS, Feby Putri, Kaleb J, Payung Teduh, Melanie Martinez, fabio, rewindstation, IC3PEAK, Lolo Zouaï, Voice of Baceprot, DPR IAN, Softwilly, UMI, Adele, Palaye Royale, Darci, Ari Abdul, Limi, Cigarettes after Sex, Isabel LaRosa, Daniel Di Angelo, Kanii, PLVTINUM, Chris Grey, Dutch Melrose, The Marías, Yura Yunita, Zack Tabudlo, galen tipton (this one is just for ear stimulation lol)

Yes, I enjoy lots of genre of music

▶• ılıılıılılııılıılı : dessert rose by Lolo Zouaï

Property of @mitfloya

[kamandzak]

Sentences in my new WIP that hurt to write

Working title: Render me Speechless

Premise: Army medic Sam Taylor (narrator) loses his best friend and is left with a letter revealing secrets about her life. Said secrets lead to Sam landing in New Orleans to complete a mission; a mission that will turn into a journey of mutual healing as common threads between two trouble men blend seamlessly with their growing feelings.

"I was on the Formula One racetrack to nowhere for what felt like both minutes and lifetimes and when I finally hit the wall, I was on the sidewalk running in front of a small row of attached townhomes. If my life depended on giving directions to my current location, I’d be hung out by my heels and shot, and that would have been a welcome alternative to the real world."

"There was something horrifyingly stagnant in the knowledge and sensation that I was simply nowhere and nothing. What was life, and who was I, and why hadn’t I died instead of Cass, and why was I too much of a coward to put myself out of my own misery? I didn’t deserve to be alive."

"It was as if I no longer held the rights to my own bones."

"'Do you dissociate a lot? It’s nothing to be ashamed of,' he added quickly. 'It’s just a way to keep parts of you safe. It’s you protecting you in the only way that seems to work.' Will was staring straight ahead as if he hadn’t just encapsulated my yo-yo-ing brain in such a simple and clear way. 'It probably feels like everyone is watching but in the end we know who we are and taking care of yourself to the tune of others music will only muffle yours.'"

"Part of the programming of my childhood – intentional or not – was that only I could fix my problems and that the easy way was most likely a shortcut. You wouldn’t follow XYZ off a cliff, would you? Maybe not, but if I’m on an island that’s ablaze and there’s a boat at the bottom of the cliff, I’d rather live."

"I hated Cassie’s last few moments but I would have rather shouted them from the mountaintops than think about the version of me that would never set foot in the US again."

"The weight had dropped and all I could do was sit and be clung to by a man drowning in the finality of what a complete stranger had thrown into his life."

"J burst into sobs so gut wrenching I felt nauseous. They weren’t the cries of a dying soldier passing me his valuables so they could be sent to his partner. They weren’t the wails of a spouse who flew a distance to ID their loved one. These were the sounds of a man lit on fire; a man so distraught I wished I had snuck a gun into the ER so I could put him out of his misery."

"Being raised by a narcissist did a number on my childhood, namely that I never really had one. Being constantly forced into a mold meant I never found my default self. Add my unstable and impressionable mother with her own demons and I was a parentified child by my teens. No matter the issue, I was expected to find a solution and impartially execute. No fix equaled failure. Failure equaled blame. Blame laid the foundation and expectation and realty that any negative connections to said lack of fix was therefore my fault.

Adults have the experience and mental acuity to find the most effective fixes and the best ways to apply them. Ten-year-old's don’t."

"There was no doubt in my mind that combat had royally fucked me up. Beyond the injuries resulting from an ambush on our makeshift base, the range of ways in which every aspect of my existence was a barren wasteland terrified me. The Army had given me a place and purpose after a not-so-stellar childhood. The fact that something I held so close was also the reason I’d never feel comfortable in my own skin again broke my heart. It was all I had had and all I would ever have."

[wigglys-dikrats]

oh shit hi !!!

uh

idk the last song i listened to but ‘if i loved you’ is stuck in my head currently lol

favourite colours are teal, dark purple, and dark green

currently watching reruns of dan and phil’s past spooky week videos bc that long dormant hyperfixation is resurfacing bc those losers are back from the dead gdi

couldn’t tell you the last movie i watched but i rewatched npmd last night !!

spicy/savoury/sweet : i can’t do spicy, i enjoy savoury, but every one of my face bones is a sweet tooth so i have to say sweet. my dentist hates me /j

last thing i googled: bug juice for the discord

tagging @abarryswiftexit

@tapestryoftrauma

@ccrp-laserjet do it coward

@magiccakes

@walkman-cat

@songsofnoble

but no pressure <3 love y’all

Nine People I'd Like to Get to Know Better

Oh hey thanks for the tag @asathorin

Last Song: I've still got something to teach you by Vylet Pony (I don't even watch MLP but I fucking love Vylet's music)

Favorite Color: Teal, but only when it leans more blue than green

Currently Watching: watching the new Hbomberguy video on plagiarism as I type this (I know this is probably talking about shows but I'm not watching any rn lmao)

Last Movie: I'm sorry but the last movie I fully watched was all the way back when Into the Spiderverse came out, but I am going to watch Godzilla Minus One in a few days cuz I'm a giant kaiju nerd

Spicy/Savory/Sweet: I like all 3? I'll go savory since I just had ice cream so I don't want sweet and I like some spice but I also don't have the best tolerance

Last Thing Googled: Nicktoons Racing because at work we were talking about games from our childhood and I was talking about how I've played more of that game than Mario Kart

Tag 9 Others: Again no pressure to respond but I'll tag a few mutuals of my main blog here @dumbasswithapen @teratheo @metal-autistic-coven @bees-in-disguise

And some mutuals of my League sideblog @duquesah @adrialae @bunbun206 @everythingpiltoverandzaun @val-slimeharpy

[aaa-wyvern-called-zesty]

worldbuilding in vague terms and on large scales is like oooo I'm so smart oh wow I have so may ideas that are original or at least not mainstream yeah yeah I'm gonna make a setting to overtake Zelda and elder scrolls oh man lore fans are gonna fucking love all these useless little details and some smart person is gonna do the maths on how any of this will actually work for me oh yeah

and then suddenly it's How Do I Name Anything. Why Are There So Many Places And Objects. Is This Too Many Planets Or Not Enough. Is This Too Much Magic Bullshitting. How Much Do I Leave To Theory And How Much Do I Explicitly State

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook:Dearly Beloved🔞 2

In which you've got a crush on your coworker- and a stalker problem.

Tags/Warnings: I do not condone any of Jungkooks questionable actions, this is fiction, soft Yandere!Jungkook, stalking, criminal actions (trespassing, stealing), obsession, he's really not quite right in the head, mc is kind of stupid for not involving police but wbk

Additional Chapter Warnings: jungkooks sanity is fruit and his heart is a blender, fluffy sweater koo :(

Chapter Length: mid/short

A/N: thank you for reading ♡

<- Previous | next ->

He's left you a gift again- a letter accompanying it.

'I saw you shivering outside last night. Where you waiting for me?' he writes, his handwriting neat as always. He's using a different pen this time however- blue ink unusual to the typical black ballpoint pen he uses. 'you know you shouldn't. I'm a coward- I can't face you yet.' he explains, making you lift your legs to rest on the couch. 'I hope it's okay that I've given you one of mine. It's my favourite actually- I bet it looks way better on you though. And it will keep you warm!' he writes, and you unpack the little bag he'd stuffed into your mailbox. It's in fact a sweater- a hoodie to be exact, white in color with colorful print on front and back.

You can't help but notice the distinctively male scent on it though.

It's pleasent however- not overbearing, more or less faint, and clean. It makes you feel a bit odd inside knowing that it's his- but you don't think much of it. He's probably still sorry for basically breaking into your home.

He's not tried it again after that one time- and you're rather thankful for that.

♥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

when you place a tupperware container on his desk with a post it note on top of the lid, you didn't think he'd be coming in so early as well. But you basically run into Jungkooks chest face first, the only thing saving you from a broken bones his hands on your shoulder attending you.

Fuck, he's strong.

"I'm so sorry, I'm not trying to be weird, I promise!" you apologize to a rather dumfounded looking Jungkook standing in front of your form, still dressed in your jacket from just having arrived at work. "I just.. I feel like I overstepped a boundary when I hugged you last time, so this.. Take it as an apology.." you meekly tell him, unable to look into his eyes.

He's mesmerized, hypnotized, bewildered even.

"you.. Made that for me?" he wonders, and you nod, squirming in your spot, equally as socially awkward as him.

"I.. It's nothing special, but, I thought homemade food might still be better than cafeteria stuff-" you try and defend yourself, and in front of you, jungkook plays with his hands nervously.

"t-thank you." he brings out. "I- no one's ever done that for me.. And don't worry-" he hurries, hands waving around almost frantically. "your uh.. Your hug just caught me off guard. I- it was nice." he says, and you nod- when suddenly other staff walks in, workday visibly starting. "I- uhm.. J-just call me over if you need help again." he offers, and you nod with red cheeks, before hurrying towards your desk.

It's a quiet day of programming for both of you- Jungkooks hands later on carefully removing your post it note, before he puts it in his wallet for safekeeping. He's about to turn around and ask if you want to eat lunch at the cafeteria with him together, having mustered uo the courage- when he spots you fast asleep at your desk, head on your arms.

Though what he notices most of all, is you attire.

The white hoodie does look way better on you than on him- you're so adorable, body safely tucked away in his favourite item of clothing, wrapped in his scent, the soft fabric able to touch your skin.

He let's you sleep, unable to bring himself to wake you up- though he can't help but grin like a schoolboy to himself, unable to get the image out of his head, even after returning home and writing a letter on his floor.

You really are perfect. He can't wait to have you.

[trifoliumrex]

Vault 69

A Yoongi x reader fic

When your vaults radiator leaks and poisons the air you're forced to make your way out to the waist land in hopes of finding medicine. The thing is the waist land's not quite as barren as you thought.

Soulmate AU, Fallout AU

word count 7729

AO3 Link

For @yoongsisbae

special thanks to @celestialvixen and @slaughter-mama

You stare into the sun. It's hard not to when you haven't seen it before. Pictures just didn't do it justice. A big light in the sky. You understood on an intellectual level that it was real but some part of you always doubted it. It's beautiful especially as it starts to make its way towards the west. A sharp elbow to your side grabs your attention. You wince. He’s never pulled any of the force and you hate that after all these years it still catches you by surprise.

Sam a tall man who’s always acted like his height made him in charge of whatever situation he’s been in, and if his height fails well his fists would take care of the problem. You’ve been with him since you were kids. Not really by choice. He said you were the prettiest out of the three viable options so you were his. No one bothered to disagree with him.

The overseer approved you as a match after you both came of age and that was that. He was bad but his lackeys were worse. At least he has a mind of his own. At least he had a spine and wasn't a coward. At least he had a plan. It wasn't much, but it was something. You told your self it was something. 

Open the vault and try to find rad-x in the great unknown. If any had survived that is. That was the plan. You had been told since birth though, that there was nothing outside of your underground vault. Sam had reasoned that it didn't matter. You had been running out of food for generations and with the reactor leaking radiation into the air? You were all sick but the four of you were the least sick.

The people with housing by the reactor were almost all walking skeletons now. Sick and dying and the medicine had run out years ago. If there was nothing outside that would be horrible, but it didn't matter because there was nothing inside either. You had to find something in the wreckage. You had to.

More impressive than the plan though was that he had actually done it. Ok mostly it had been John who was good with computers. Had managed to make the behemoth move but it had been Sam who had taken the credit. Maybe that was fair. Maybe when you had the ideas that was just how it went. It certainly meant that you weren’t the one with the gun. John got a security nightstick. Hell, even Paul, who was useless, got a baseball bat. 

You had a wrench. It was your wrench too. Your great times whatever generation had been before the war, Before the fall of man, grandfathers. You think he had been a mechanic of some sort. He had brought manuals to bikes you’d never ride with him instead of something helpful. Or fun. Paul had a series of comic books. He told you once you could read them if you sucked him off. He had ended up with a black eye and you had ended up in the holding cell for violence. 

That had been before your father had died. The first of the vault's population to succumb to the radiation. You probably would have been dead right along with him if you hadn't had the privilege as Sam called it of staying in his bed. He was going to be the next overseer of the vault anyway. Everyone knew it. 

“Sorry” you mutter, turning your eyes away from the sun. you’ve been walking for half the day. The sun is already starting to set and you’re already bone tired. So are Paul and John. You would assume Sam is too but he’s trying to hide it. You can tell it’s important even out here that you all think he’s stronger than you. Better than you. 

As if the barren rock landscape cares. As if the shriveled trees care who’s incharge. The current overseer, also Sam's father, not that that's why he’ll be getting the job oh no definitely not, has updated his pip boy with the map to the outside on his arm. Just him. Yours has a vague one but is updating as you explore. You hope he knows how to read it. 

“Sam. I’m going to need a break soon” you hate being the first one to say it but you see the relief in John and Paul’s faces. You might be the only girl and maybe the one with the worst radiation sickness but you know you're also the only one who’s not afraid of Sam. 

“We don't have time for a break, kid!” He’s maybe six months older than you. It had been annoying when you were kids but now as adults you see him for what he is condescending. 

“If we don't break now we’ll need a longer one later. We all need water. Maybe you don’t but we do.” Sam comes up to you and you can see you’ve made a critical mistake. He grabs your cantine. You make a grab for it. If there's one thing he hates it’s when anyone challenges him. He gives you a shove. It's not even particularly hard but it sends you into the rock. You groan in pain and watch as your water spills out onto the ground. 

“I said no breaks” You stand up ready to throw punches if it cam to that. What was he hoping to accomplish here? He would get you all killed!

“Why are you such a dick?! Sam what the hell is your problem” you feel your voice rising. You hate it. He always uses your displays of emotion against you. Like any reaction he provokes out of you means he’s won. Completely ignoring any point you make. Sam grabs your arm and starts pulling you along. His grip is bruising. It always is. You hate him. You hate him so much.

“Just shut the fuck up we have a job to do and” A crack rings out and makes you jump out of Sams grip. You look at his hand convinced he’s fired that pistol in there but no. It's not him. Shots? Is there someone else alive out here? And they have a gun. You all look around in panic. Dead. everything out here is supposed to be dead.

There's another crack and pain blooms along your side. You let out a scream that's more fear than pain really. And your hand goes to your side. Sam looks at you. At the blood and then at the others too. “Run!” he yells. To them. He doesn't give you a second look.

“Sam?! Sam!!” you scream as he leaves you without so much as a single look back. Another bullet whizzed past your face and you scramble back around the rock. You clutch your wrench to your chest, heart beating out of control. 

“I'm gonna tear you apart!!” A voice fast approaching calls. Your stomach drops. No. no no no no. This can’t be happening. The overseer was searching for people on the radio. He would know he would have told you. Would have–

“Fuckin' hide from me? You're dead!” another deeper voice calls out. You look around. There's an outcropping of rock not too far. You think you can make it, you just have to be quiet, you just have to keep your mouth shut. You take a deep breath and then another one and start running. Strong arms grab you from behind and for the second time today you are thrown into the ground. 

“Aww come on Yoongi, she’s just a girl all alone. Your friends leave you princess?” you look up at the small man with the clear high voice who’s tone and smile are nice enough but whose eyes are full of a cruelty that's evident. He’s looking at your pip boy. Its better then looking at your body. But not by much. Without the little computer on your wrist you would be almost blind.

Yoongi the one that grabbed you pins you to the ground and starts searching your pockets one hand pinning your wrists above you. You struggle against him but a boot to the wound in your side stops you. A tall one looking down on you wiggling his boot into your wound. “Careful Yoongi this one doesn't look so good.'' His voice is so deep you feel like you can feel the vibration in the earth. 

“You're just a pre-goulie bitch aren't you? Hu? That's right keep struggling. More fun thats way” You freeze up in terror eyes only for the one on top of you. The one whose name you know. 

“Please. Yoongi please” you get out. Yoongi's face twists in rage. How many fucking waistlanders have tried this trick on him? Read his soul mark on his neck and tried to get him to stop. Hell, maybe he killed them already. He shifts his weight kneeling into the dirt, his hands now around your neck not yet squeezing. 

Who cares if you’re running hot. He’ll just take a road away. It's better this way. Watching life leave their eyes. He's pulled back by his collar and to his feet. The man who does the pulling is a giant. You stare up at him coughing and trying to regain your breath. Yoongi turns on the man. “What the fuck Namjoon what the fuck?!” Namjoon throws him to the big man with a deep voice. 

He seems not to know what’s changed but he obeys Namjoon. “ Look at her fucking side Yoongi!” Your side? You don't understand if your eyes go there but you can't see past the blood. You instinctively go to hide whatever it is to stop these men from looking at you. Another one grabs your hand back and ribs at your already damaged vault suit. Your hands claw at his but he’s just as immovable as Yoongi.

“Pre-goulie. Well shit Yoongi it's your handwriting and everything.”

“That doesn't change anything! Just fucking kill her!” Namjoon smacks the back of his head making Yoongi growl at him but the rest of the men around you have already relaxed. They seem to have elected to ignore you. Namjoon gestures to you and one of the men takes a step toward you. 

His smile, unlike the small ones, seems genuine. You still don't want him anywhere near you. Your eyes go down to your side and widen at the dark blocky writing on your side. It takes you a moment to read it at an awkward angle. You're just a pre-goulie bitch aren't you? Hu? That's why right keep struggling. More fun that way. The writing looks angry and somehow deep. You look up at Yoongi and look angry enough to spit. 

“What did you do to me?!'' The men share looks all except the calm one. He looks younger than the rest. Cleaner. Calmer. Skin perfect save for a scar on your cheek.

“You don't know what a soul mark is?” You scowl at him. Are they making fun of you now? Teasing you before they kill you? The man, boy really in front of you nods like he is processing your reaction. He moves your arms too, not rough like the deep one. Gentle. Ah. a vault dweller. “I see. My Name is Jungkook. Can I have yours?” He’s digging around in his bag. 

Namjoon is tilting Yoongi's head. Observing his neck. The mark once faded and gray like his own has become fresh, vibrant. Beautiful. Namjoons own heart aches at the sight. Yoongi is looking anywhere at you and though his ears twitch at the sound of your name he makes no response to it. 

Yoongi had thought as soon as he got his soulmark, late for one to appear really, in his early twenties that he had already killed you. And now he finds out that you’re alive. He’s angry. Can feel the rage building in his body. 

Jungkook brings out a huge looking needle and goes to use it on you. You let out a little squeal and Yoongi's body reacts with a little half step before he regains control. This is how Jimin and Tae react. Pulled by the fucking thread. Yoongi has no interest in being anyone's puppet. 

“It's just medicine for your side. Then the rads”

“I'm not taking anything from you!” Your voice is high and distressed. Yoongi looks at you. At your unnatural clean. You're paler than you should be, he thinks, like your skin hasn't seen the sun recently, maybe ever. You look unhealthy. A gross mole person. He grabs the stimpack from Jungkook and stabs you with it. 

You cry out and when your side, just grazed by a bullet really, probably fired By Jin then. He always was a shit shot, starts to mend. you start to scratch at the newly forming skin abject terror in your eyes. Jungkook grabs your hands again. “Its ok. Just speeds up healing. Just medicine.” He grabs out some rad away and hands it to you. “Drink this. It will cure your radiation” Your eyes light up.

“It will? Do you have more of this?” 

“I don't. It's kind of expensive. Why?”

“We left to find this. There is a leak in our reactor. People are getting sick and”

“And what you expect people to just give it away you stupid ghoulie? Hu? You don't even have any caps!” Yoongi says the anger in his voice is evident. He gets more than one glare. You aren't supposed to be like this to your soul mate. “You don't even have any water!”

“You were all supposed to be dead.” You mutter. Not liking his tone one bit. You wish he still was. You don’t know what's changed but it seems like you are no longer in danger from these men. You don't give expensive things to people you are just going to kill. 

“A functioning vault and an honest to god vault dweller. I call dibs on her suit.” One of them calls you scrunching tighter on yourself. “Drink up so it's not too irradiated. I'm not trying to glow or turn into a ghoul.”

“What's a ghoul?” you whisper to Jungkook, apparently deciding that he's the one you can trust. “Am I a ghoul?!” you don't know what it is, only that it's bad. Jungkook gestures to the medicine and you drink it. It's awful and you almost retch but once it settles you look at your body. 

It doesn't hurt. You don't realize how much pain you were in until it was gone and so you sit mystified in this group of strange men. “Nah. Yoongi's just rude. He still calls me a tin man” you look at him confused until he draws up his sleeve and reveals a robotic arm. You reach out to touch it but Yoongi slaps your hand away. He glares at you but then shoots a glare at Jungkook. 

“How many times do I have to tell you not to show off you dumb hunk of junk!”

“Sorry Yoongi. She’s going to come with us though. She's your soulmate” 

“That's not real.” from you is tied with.

“No she’s not” from Yoongi.

“Ok sure” Jungkook says to both of you then Looks at Namjoon. The leader of their party. Namjoon is looking at you thoughtfully. 

“Do they have more of those suits back at your place?” He asks. You clamp your mouth shut and Namjoon admires the effort. If he wanted to make you talk he could but he'd prefer not to. He’d prefer you not to know that either. You seem like a nice kid. For a raider he has a soft heart. “They need meds. Meds are expensive. We could trade.” 

Your eyes narrow in suspicion. “ Why would you help me? He wants me dead” 

“He’s an asshole and my robot”

“Synth”

“Just patched you up. We get the meds, then we keep the extra caps.”

“You won't hurt the vault?” 

“Nah, we’ll even send Jungkook in to fix the reactor, '' Namjoon sais with a smile. You look around you don't know if you can trust them but you do know that there isn’t much of a choice either way. You hold out your pinky to Namjoon. He takes it with a grin. You seem satisfied. “You’ll have to come with us though. You going back only means more meds. And we’ll need your suit.”

“I had dibs”

“Shut up Jin.” Yoongi snaps at him. He sees the fear in your face at some thought undressed in front of them. “Later. We’ll get you something to wear.” When you look relieved, she rolls his eyes.

“I had water.” you say. To no one in particular. It was true they had seen the bottle. 

“Yeah? your friends take it?” Namjoon asks.

“No Sam he. He emptied it” You say frowning. Namjoon frowns too. They left you for dead three men and they left you to a pack of raiders. If it had been any other group other than Namjoon’s they could have left you for worse.

“Sounds like a dick.” 

“He is” at least this is over. You know you should probably try to find them but honestly. They can die. You don't care. That shove had been the last straw and leaving you? Your fingers trace over the mark on your side. It feels the same as it ever has but this mark. It saved your life and the mark on Yoongi's neck. It's your handwriting. You don't understand. You don't like it. You want to peel it off his neck. “Where are we going.” hopefully you can fine a potato peeler.

“The dome. A big city. Three days walk from here” He points in the direction of a setting sun. Far to go without water. A bottle is thrust into your hand and you look at the giver. The one with the mean smile. 

“The walks are not so bad. Can you fire a gun?” You shake your head. 

“Wasn’t cleared to use them”

“Well. that will have to change. My name is Jimin. Can you feel it?” He sees the confusion on your face and grins. “The Pull, me and Tae '' he points to the deep voice. “We can feel each other's pain.” He pinches his arm and Tae throws a rock at him that one misses. The motion is fluid. Practiced. “Can you feel his pain?”

“How would I know?”

“Cause I have this theory. Yoongi always acts like a little bitch because you were all sick and shit. Let me see your arm”

“Jimin” It's a warning from Namjoon. 

“Come on!” You give it to him. You think it might be better if he likes you. If they all like you. Jimin pinches you. You yelp and Yoongi stops. He looks at you glares then slugs Jimin hard in the stomach. 

“Fuck you and fuck Tae. I know you two are in this together” Tae moves to slug him too but you in a panic grab at his arm. You almost end up with a fist in your face but the other tall one. Jin you think. The one who wants your clothes interrupts. 

“Cheap shot Tae. you get her face and you might ruin my suit” You take a step back and almost run into the last one whose name you haven't figured out. He leans over lips almost on your ear. 

“Boo” You jump and your face turns red. 

“Are you and Jungkook all…” you gesture to Yoongi's neck to the mark on the tae wrist you assume is the same thing. 

“Robots”

“Synths!”

“Don’t have soulmates” A look passes over Yoongi's face and then a wince of almost pain over Jungkooks. You nod once and punch. It hurts your hand more than it hurts him but still it feels better than nothing. “Ooooh Yoongi your soulmate is punchy” he grabs your hand and adjusts your fingers. “Elbow next time” Yoongi has to resist the urge not to shake his hand “ till you don't punch like a wastelander”

Hobi has looked out for Yoongi and vice versa since they were kids and unlike Yoongi he’s ready to welcome you with open arms. Hobi never had a mark. Unlucky enough, or lucky enough to either never meet his soul mate or for them just to be dead. Not like Namjoon. Not like their poor leader who had watched his settlement give his lover to raiders to appease them. Namjoon had killed both parties but it had been too late. It had almost killed him. No way was Hobi letting Yoongi go down the same path.

The rest of the group seemed to be of the same mindset. It's clear in the way you’re the center of the group. The only one who seems not to give a shit is Yoongi himself. He just keeps glancing at Jungkook.

There was that. What do you do if you meet your soulmate and you already have a robot lover? What do you do if you meet your soulmate and try to kill them and then it turns out they neither care nor believe in the concept?

It's not like Jungkook cared. Probably. He liked them all well enough and if you asked him to fuck he’d almost always say yes, especily to Yoongi but he never initiated him self. Best not to bring that up with Yoongi. With Yoongi it was almost always the best strategy not to talk about anything. 

You make camp sooner than expected and when you do you are confused until Yoongi whispers to Jungkook and he comes over and pulls off your shoes. They aren't meant for the wasteland. Just for the vault. Your feet are torn up from walking, Jungkook tuts. Yoongi’s a bit impressed. He only stopped when it became hard for him to walk. The soul bond does let pain travel but it's greatly lessened. 

Stimpacks are expensive so Jungkook instead empties a bottle of vodka on your feet and wraps you up in some bandages as best he can. You make faces and a few little noises but not much. Good, you're tough. You’d need that. 

Jin lays out a knife, a new pair of shoes and an outfit that looks old pre war maybe but preserved remarkably well. “Trade me” He says. Namjoon eyes him suspiciously but in truth while this would make you stand out it would be less than the vault suit. You take the knife. This you do have experience with though mostly in a kitchen setting. You head off behind a rock but you hear steps behind you. You grab your knife prepared to attack but you're disarmed quickly.

“Dont be stupid. If any of us wanted to do something we would and this knife won't stop us. A gun wouldn't stop most of us” Yoongi says with a look of disgust on his face. He turns around though. “The only thing stopping us is the fact that they would hurt me so. Calm down. None of them will hurt me.” You change quickly and look at your vault suit. 

You've never worn anything other than this and the sleep set version. Yoongi turns back around after what he’s deemed an appropriate amount of time and snatches the suit out of your hands. It's still warm and still smells fairly clean. Like the vault laundry. He harshly puts a hat on your head. “Look down in the city. Pretend to be a boy” Not that that will be likely to work. Not with a face like that. A body like that. “ don't talk to anyone. He grabs your arm harshly at first them releases his grip when he harms himself. He leads you back to the makeshift camp and throws the suit at Jin. 

Tae whistles at you and Namjoon looks at you seriously. The rest of them are in a curious mix of armor and armor made from recycled materials. You see what looks like a football uniform on Tae's shoulders. 

Some kind of harness on Jin that maybe was once moving straps. 

You look out of place amongst them. All except Jungkook who's in a shabby suit that's probably prewar but is almost falling apart. You take your seat by him. Yoongi thinks it's kind of cute. For a second before banishing the thought. That you think Jungkook isn't a threat. He could break you in half like a tree branch with no effort. 

“Synths don't need armor?” you ask. Jungkook smiles, glad not to be misrepresented as a robot. 

“We are very sturdy. You should get some. We’ll find someone soon”

“Find somepne?” Jungkook makes a little finger gun with his hand and points it at you.

“pew pew” you turn a bit green. These are bad men. You scoot just a tiny bit away and hear a snicker. You curl up in the ground just outside of the ring of light cast by the fire. You consider running but where would you run to. It's like being in the eye of a hurricane. 

Before you can make up your mind you’re already asleep. 

The second day is less exciting than the first. Just walking mostly. They are going slow. You pass by one group of people but they appear to be heavily armed. Jungkook puts his arm around your waist and waves. You wave too. 

There's talk behind you. Jungkook makes a good disguise but you? That pretty face? It makes sense why you’d have your own little private army. Especially if Jungkook was your lover. He looked rich and you looked expensive. 

Yoongi watched the casual touch and jealousy burned in him white hot. He pulls Jungkook away and in doing so pretends that fixes it. Pretending Hobi’s arm around yours when you almost wall off a cliff isn't just as bothersome. Pretends he has a choice about you after your marked into his skin. 

You seem to have more resistance. Being in the company of murders and theives though will help that. You do see them pass up more regular people. Wastelanders, you learn. Namjoon preferes to attack other raiders. Its still murder but you prefer it to what it could be. 

You’re surprised that they have left you with your pip boy. They had you put on the radio on it but none of them want to bother with learning it. Or so they say. They watch you fiddle with it though when a giant bug, a bloatfly, they tell you later, and stab with surprising accuracy. You explain how it works naively to Jungkook. 

It becomes on the table of things you’re not allowed to talk about. Your shared secrets between the group. You want to dislike them but they are all so charming. Sometimes they will sing along to the radio songs you have never heard before but all feel familiar and a few you can even join in on.

You like the way Namjoon and Jin make sure everyone has food before they eat even if you don't know what you're eating most of the time and think it better not to ask. You like the way that when Taehyung found out you had a map that was developing and could make marks on, he had you mark every interesting thing he saw. It seemed like he was the reason Namjoons little group had no permanent home. Why they wander around like a company of lost sheep. Tae couldn't stay in one place for more than a few weeks before he went a little stir crazy. 

You like the way Jimin will follow Tae and try to annoy him for fun but also when another one of the hideous blowflies tried to attack he shot it out of the sky without even looking. It's impressive. You like the way every single box they pass Hobi has to open no matter how long it takes. You like the way he hands an old soda bottle to Jungkook who opens it, then hands it right to you. The way they all watch you take your first sip of nuka cola quantum and fall in love with the stuff. The way if you have searched through a box Hobi doesn't need to double check a privilege apparently only afforded to you.

You like the way that your scrounge items are always laid out before Namjoon who examines your treasures and nods thoughtfully. Occasionally he’ll tell you to ditch something because it is irradiated or just too heavy but other then that just tells you they are nice.

Jin shows you his collection of his old odd treasures and is delighted when you tell him what one of his pieces is. An old motorcycle part that you recognize from the textbooks. You guess your great great whatever was had brought something useful after all.

You don't like Yoongi, you tell yourself. You keep repeating it to yourself. When you wake up with a blanket that you didn't go to sleep with, that Yoongi roughly takes back in the morning. You definitely don't like that he’s funny. That he’s made you snort more than a few times. You definitely don't like the way when he looks back he flashes you just a quick smile. His gums on full display before he remembers that he doesn't like you and scowls. 

It's not till the third day that anything is wrong. It's nothing big really. You had found a hollow shell of a house and Hobi was showing you how to open a safe with a bobby pin and a screw driver when the ground started to shake. You look up at Hobi confused. Hobi looks scared. Hobi never looks scared. “Hide!”

Hobi gives you a shove towards the stairs and yells at you to hide again before drawing his gun. The upstairs was in worse shape than the dilapidated down stairs but you have little choice, You dash up them. The structure groans at your added wait and one of your feet hits a soft spot puncturing a whole in the floor. You manage to scramble up and head for the wall. The only one still standing that has a dresser still upright. It’s throw another whole in the floor when you see it. A huge ant burrows to the surface. It's as big as him and locks eyes on him and attacks. It bites at Hobi and he screams in pain and anger, one he can handle but that's not the problem, the problem is more ants come pouring out. All just as big. They skitter around and you're horrified to hear some of their insectile legs start to crawl up the rotting wood. 

Hobi managed to shoot the one on him, stunning it into letting go, but has to retreat before he is pinned down. He can't take this many on his own and your little knife isn't going to do shit. “Hide” he shouts again. The upper floor is mostly just that, a floor, all the walls but one taken down buy either the bombs or the never ending march on time just time. Hobi watches you climb up on top of a burrow but the thing is shaking. Fuck they should have gven you a gun! You look at him just outside. Again. You can't believe that you’re being left to die again. He’s not moving though. He takes a shot at the one that bit him and you can see there's quite a bit of blood. 

“HOBI! There are too many!!” He should go. You dont both have to die here. the problem isn't so much that they can get you though at some point they might its more that the weight on the dilapidated floor is starting to make the wood groan. Hobi makes it to the crest of the hill and fires up into the air. It draws some of the man sized ants towards him. A line of predators set on prey. Not enough of them leave. Now that they've seen you they are intent on eating you. You let out the smallest groan. You hate bugs!

It also draws the rest of your little group. Yoongi seeing the floor swaying almost makes a dash for you but stops and thinks better of it. Impulsivity has never gotten him anywhere. How many bites from those things could he take? He turns to Jungkook. Jungkook scans the scene and holds out his hand. Yoongi put his gun in Jungkook's hand. The two of them don't need words. Never had. It had been Yoongi that Jungkook who had first spilled his secrets too. It had been Yoongi that made him feel like he was real and that the feelings he had were real. He knows that he’s going to get bit. It's better than you. Better than him.

Jungkook makes a dash towards the horde of ants and tosses the gun at you. It's a good throw. He was built to be perfect after all. You catch but only just and you lose your stable position on the furniture ending up in a far more precarious one. They hope your little wrist computer can help you aim. Tae and Jimin follow Jungkook, letting him take the aggression and firing at the ones that make it past him. They manage to push back enough that Jimin and Tae can start firing directly into the tunnel. Jin and Namjoon start bludgeoning the line after Hobi while Yoongi starts to stanch the bleeding on Hobi’s arm. They will need another stimpack later but as Jungkook is the one who carries them this is the best he can do. They are practiced at this. Even from your current state of near panic, part of you appreciates it.

Yoongi hears you start to fire. Not at the ants already on the floor but the ones still trying to climb up. Your rate of fire is steady and you have never been more grateful for the aim assistance your little pip boy provides. When you shoot one that almost bit Jimin's head off, the others are just as grateful. “I’m out!” you yell to no one in particular one of the ants on the top floor bit at the dresser and you almost fall off clinging to the furniture like it is a sinking ship. 

You hear more shots from far away and the ants around you stop moving. Namjoon firing from the top of the hill down after making sure Hobi was no longer in danger of getting bitten again. The floor below you however groans again and a few pieces fall. “You have to jump!” Yoongi calls to you now just outside the shell of a house. You look at him like he’s crazy.

If you jump you’re going to break both your legs. The floor makes another noise and you close your eyes and jump. Better your legs then your spine you suppose. You hit something. Not the ground softer and it makes a groan. Your ankle is the only thing that ends up hurt and not too bad. Not a snap of bone. You feel like you hit the ground anyway. “Ow” you mutter, opening just one eye and seeing you landed on Yoongi. 

“Shit” he says winded letting his head flop to the ground. You try to scramble off of him but an arm restrains you. “Wait for the synth” he says. Like he doesn't need you here. Reassurance that you’re safe. There's another crash as the second and first floor become one. You jump on instinct pressing further into Yoongi. He scoffs but the arm around you tightens. There's another louder boom and his arm tightens again. You're scared and he is surprised to find he doesn't like it. “Just Jimin closing the tunnel. You get bit?”

“No” Yoongi has to laugh. Lucky. You were so fucking lucky . First the raider that tries to kill you is your Soulmate then you manage to avoid a whole colony of ants. “Yoongi?”

“Yeah?”

“I don't like bugs. I really don't like bugs” He hears you sniffle and lifts you carefully. Almost gently off him. “Its so fucked up that you just have giant bugs out here? Did they eat Hobi?!”

“Hobi!” Yoongi calls. He comes over arm already healing. He looks at you, the tears and his eyes are scanning you for wounds. “See he’s fine”

“What's wrong?”

“You got bitten by a giant ant!”

“Oh, you didn't have those in the vault I guess.”

“There were big roaches. One bit me when I was a kid”

“Rad roaches? nasty about this big?” he mimes the size of a football and you shake your head and mime something the size of a small dog. Hobi flinches at the thought and makes a face of disgust. “Thats fucked up. I hate bugs”

“Me too” you say with a nod. Jungkook comes over and touches your ankle. 

“We’re out of stimpacks. This isnt broken but it's sprained. We’ll get it takes care of but”

“It's ok! You can lean on me” Hobi says quickly, eager to make up for his mistake. Yoongi's eyes narrow. He’s glad Hobi is ok. But he should have been more careful. There are ant holes all over the place. You might not know what they are but Hobi sure did. 

“That won't be necessary” Yoongi stands up with a bit of groaning and crouches in front of you. “ get on.”

“No way! I can walk!”

“Dont be stupid ghoulie”

“I'm not a ghoulie!” to his surpirse you get on his back. You don't want to be close to this place. You want to get the meds for your vault and have Junhkook repair the thing, lock the doors and never come back out into the awful wasteland again. “Stop calling me that.”

“Nah. when you sleep you still glow like a lightning bug”

“Hate bugs”

“You’d like these. They are small and pretty. Even Jin likes them and he’s a coward” He tells you about them. A low calm voice as they approach the dome. It's a raider city and a rough place but they have a doctor. You don't like the look off it and you like the look of the guards at the door even less. Jin comes up pretending to talk with Yoongi but instead adjusting your hat. Pushing your head against Yoongi's neck. 

Jungkook comes up close on the other side of Yoongi. He looks different taller, his face set hard. His hand touches your arm twice then goes to his gun. “Keep your head down for now” You look too new. Too fresh. At least they just had the forethought to get you out of that vault suit. The three of you make your way to the doctor.

The doctor is a creep. You know it the second you end up on his table. He looks over your eyes lingering on your almost totally un-marked skin. Your mouth full of white teeth. His check up is above the board but mostly because when he tried to unbutton your shirt to check your lungs a blade threatened to sink into his back. “Fine, fine. She’s got low level rads poisoning and needs a stimpack. 300 caps''

“You want to try again? I think she gets a discount seeing as how your eyes are still in your head” 

“200”

“200 and you don't administer it”

“Fine”

Jungkook does the administering. Yoongi’s face relaxes. A tension eases out of him. Rads fucking hurt. You look like you just learned that you’re no longer getting killed next week. Jungkook grabs something out of his pocket and puts it into your hand. Bottle caps. You look at him confused.

“From Namjoon. Go get yourself something to eat, then head to the hotel there’s a room for you” Jungkook ushers you out to start the real negotiations. You look at Yoongi and he gives you a nod. You should be safe enough inside the walls. He pulls the hat down low before you head out. 

You head over to what seems to be a food stall. There's a robot that takes your order and you understand why Jungkook dislikes being called a robot. Still the thing serves up a good cup of noodles and calls you partner in a cute accent. 

You get a few stairs but you still have Yoongi's gun, even if it has no bullets and that makes you feel safe. Namjoon also, a well known figure in the dome, has made a promise to those who count that if you get hurt he’d hurt them back. Throw in that you’re Yoongis, THE Yoongi, soulmate. Still though. After you leave Yoongi waits about two minutes then follows you out. 

Jungkook watches him go and knows it's the start of a new chapter for them. He doesn't mind. He likes you. You’re good for Yoongi and it's clear that getting your rads taken care of has changed things for him. 

Yoongi watches from the bar while you are still at the food stall. You’re looking around with wide eyes too full of wonder to be a wastelander or raider. You’re attracting attention and you seem to be aware of some of it but not enough. It makes him worried. 

He stands up when you do, and follows you to the Hotel. It's not till you get halfway there that he notices someone following you. He reaches for his gun but you have it. Shit. His pace speeds up just a bit. 

You feel a hand on your shoulder when you're just within the reach of the hotel. Your hand goes to the knife first and it lets Sam know everything he needs to. Your gun is empty. “Hey! Easy there!” You look at him clearly shocked. “You’re alive” You don't look pleased.

Your hands cross over your chest. “Yeah no thanks to you” Sam grins at you and goes to touch your face. He’s no longer in his vault suit and he’s got similar garb on to your new found friends. You think that’s probably a bad sign. Jimin likes to tell you stories about the worst of the raiders. Namjoon would stop him but it’s probably best you know.

“Come on now. They had guns”

“So did you! All I had was a wrench!” Sam shrugs and his thumb touches your lip. He’s had an ok time out here. Pauls dead, but he and John have a pretty sweet new gig. A new crew. Sure membership had cost Paul's life but who cares. 

“Yeah and you're fine now. How’d you get away? You trade something?” he eyes your body up and down. The big problem out here is that so many of the whores were not clean. You were always clean. You slap his hand away and he feels heat growing. “Dont be so fucking rude. You hear about this soulmate shit?” he unbuttons his shirt. There's the word am on his chest. It's large and not in your handwriting. If you had to guess a tattoo with the way it seemed to be irritated. 

“First I think that's all bull shit. Second, is that supposed to be me?”

“Your first word was my name after all” you roll your eyes. This was true. Your dad talked about it all the time. Thought it was the cutest thing. It was a result of the two of you being in daycare together. Nothing more. You pinch your arm and he just looks at it. 

“You’re soulmate feels your pain dumbass. Did you get the meds?”

“Come on. They’re dead anyway.” You give him a little shove and try to get past him. He grabs you and shoves you back against the wall of the building next to the hotel. You glare and try to push him off but you’ve never been able to have you? You let out a little sound of rage. You’re tired  of being shoved around.

“They aren't dead!”

“They will be. Come on, you can come with me. Sell your pip boy and just do what you've always done. Be my pretty little–”

“You think we’re still together? You left me to die!”

“You belong to me!”

“I have a soul mate Sam and he sure doesn't look like you!” Sam lets out another sound of rage and grabs at your shirt looking for your mark. It doesn't take long to find when your shirt is splayed open. He grabs your knife and presses it to the mark. If your mark isn't him he’ll just have to give you a new one. 

When Yoongi sees a man on top of you, a knife to your skin shirt opens his mind goes one place. He springs on him, a wire pulled from his pocket and slipped around his throat. He pulls and pulls and it's only when he’s choking, brought to the ground that he looks up at you. Your hands are crossed back over your chest and you're staring down at him coolly. “Do you want me to stop?” He doesn't want to stop. Have you ever seen a death though? Does he want to remind you of how you met?

“No. he was going to cut off my soul mark.” you crouch down face very close to him. “I'm not yours Sam. Never was” Yoongi was right. It is fun to watch him die. Yoongi slips the wire back in his pocket. Your shirt tore like paper. You need armor. You need bullets. That knife wasn't enough. 

“Your friend?”

“My ex. The fucker tattooed my first words to him on his chest”

“Fucked up.”

“Fucked up” You agree. 

The next morning both are in the chair by your bed. You notice that it looks a lot like what Sam had on him. The thought of taking what was his makes you smile too. Maybe its fucked up. But taking from the man who his whole life acted like you were his property? You notice the new shirt is not what he had on. Instead is cropped shirt that would show off your mark well.

[lily-drake]

Fantasy/Twin AU

Sorry for being late and not posting for a bit. Was a bit burnt out and had writer block. I will go back to write the other days soon though. Also, sorry, I suck at writing wing aus, this is my first time doing it.

Earth J-236, an earth full of mystical life.  An earth where everyone is born with wings.  Your wings represented who you are; well not really, but that’s what people believed.  If your wings were bright and colorful then you were obviously an amazing person, but if your wings were darker or had little color, then you have great evil in your soul.  Marinette was born seconds after her twin, Damian.  It takes a few years before your wings fully grow in, usually to about 6.  But with the accelerated growth serums used in their artificial wombs, it took them till they were three for their feathers to sprout.  Damian’s were black like their father’s with subtle hints of red like their mothers.  Marinette’s were pure black, devoid of any color, and her mother was so proud of that.  She was the League’s charm, for it’s believed that anyone with pure black wings was pure evil.  Her only purpose being to protect her brother, nothing else was more important than her brother’s safety.  She would die for him, because if he died she might as well have died as well as her only purpose for living would be gone.

Damian glared at his sister, his wings ruffling in annoyance.  She was hovering close to him again, and she never said anything to him ever unless she was completely sure they were alone.  He did not believe that his sister was or could ever be, “pure evil” just because of her wings.  In fact, her mannerisms are the exact opposite of what people believed.  She, in her own ways, is caring, sweet, and protective.  He had seen, and helped, her nurse a baby bird that had fallen from its nest back to health.  She would often place little things around the base for only him to find such as some extra baklava, a throwing knife, a drawing of someone, beads, or other random objects.  Grandfather had always been extra hard on her, making sure she wouldn’t betray them, she wouldn’t become “evil enough to lose herself”.  Sometimes she would sneak into his room at night, and it tore him apart to see silent tears run down his little sister's face as small black raven feathers fell onto the floor from her days worth of training.  He had been learning how to fly, her wings had been clipped every two or three months so she could not leave the base.  She had learned long ago to control her facial and wing expressions, but he could always see the droop in them and the sad shine in her eyes as she stood on the ground while he was in the air.

________

Marinette looked up and watched as the fiery Phoenix flew through the air setting Nada Parabat aflame.  She didn’t feel much as she watched her grandfather get blown up.  She only felt great anxiety and fear as she could not find her brother.  She loved her brother, and if her job was to cause chaos, she would make sure she could prevent it from hurting him.  Grandfather had told her about how cursed she was, it’s why they had to be extra tough on her, and she understood that.  They couldn’t have her hurting anyone they needed, only the people they wanted gone.  She was angry at grandfather yesterday for taking some of her feathers for failing a task, this must have been her fault.  She didn’t want to hurt her brother, her wings had only proven nothing but destruction.  She had to leave now, then she could go where no one else was, and she wouldn’t have to hurt anyone else.  So like a coward, like the disgrace she was, she ran.  She kept her wings tight against her back making sure that no one could grab them as she ran.  An arrow hit one of them, but she didn’t have time to think about the burning pain as she ran and ran and ran farther and farther and farther away.  Tears ran down her cheeks as she silently prayed that her brother would be okay.

She didn’t know how long she ran, but she knew it must have been a really long time as she had just collapsed from exhaustion in the woods.  She looked back at her wings and slowly and carefully spread them out and hissed in pain from where the arrow had pierced her left wing.  Drops of red slowly dripped down her feathers and dropped on the ground.  She quickly closed them and made sure they were as small and put away as possible.  She looked up at the trees made of brass with different colored jade leaves.  Pearl-like apples growing on a few.  She watched a baby griffon follow it’s mother in the distance, turtle ducks waddling to a pond somewhere nearby, deer nibbling on plants, she could hear the rustling of leaves and branches from unseen creatures and everything was getting more blurry and dark.  She was cold, it felt very cold.  She slowly unwound her wings from around herself and closed them tightly around her, but that didn’t stop the chill that went deep down to her bones.  She was a failure, a mistake, she would only cause harm.  Here she wouldn’t be able to do that, and if she died here, then no one would be hurt by her again, and wasn’t that such a nice thought.

________

Tom and Sabine had finally been able to hire some trusted employees and explore places in Tibet.  They had made lots of money over the years with their successful bakery, and they thought now was a better time than ever to go on a real honeymoon as they hadn’t been able to afford it before when the bakery had first started.  It was during one of these forest explorations when they saw a trail of little drops of blood and felt they needed to follow it.  What they discovered broke their hearts.  There lying on the cold forest floor was what appeared to be a child hugging their very black wings around them.  They knew of the rumors and myths of black winged people, but they did not care.  They believed that their wings were not what made them evil, but rather situations put into their lives.  Sabine quickly checked for a pulse, and though it was slow she sighed in relief when she felt it.  She quickly handed the small unconscious girl to Tom and they both quickly went to the nearest hospital.  How could someone leave such a small child all alone to die like that?  It looked as if she had been injured if the dried blood on the small fragile wings said anything.  And worst of all, upon closer examination, they had been clipped, recently too.

As soon as they arrived they carried the small girl to the front and demanded that they take her in.  They waited until the doctors were done and gave them permission to visit claiming to be the girl’s adopted parents.  It wasn’t technically a lie, they would be soon even if Sabine had to force it to happen.

When Marinette woke up she knew something was off.  She was under a blanket, she’s never been given a blanket before.  The sent of bleach and chemicals were everywhere and it hurt her nose.  There was a beeping noise next to her that was giving her a headache.  She didn’t know where she was, and that was bad.  She opened her eyes a small fraction so nobody could see she was awake and looked around as much as she could.  The entire room was white and there were bright lights.  There were two strange people waiting in chairs near where she was laying.  She wondered if they were the ones who brought her here.  Slowly she opened them up all the way and silently sat up.  It’s best to make no noise, then she wouldn’t disturb anyone.

“Oh sweety, I’m so glad you’re awake.”

The woman said in a cheery and relieved manner, but she just continued to watch and study them silently.  Her wings felt stiff against her back, though she made sure they didn’t move or give anything away.

“How are you feeling dear?”

Silence greeted them, and her face remained as impassive as ever.  They wanted something, why else would they save a freak like her?  What were they aiming for here?

“Did your parents hurt you?  If so, we can take you away from them.”

Marinette’s eyes widened only a fraction.  These were randoms, innocents if you will.  They obviously had no idea who she was, and they seemed unafraid of her and her wings.  Did they not know how dangerous she was, didn’t they know that black wings meant she was cursed?  The man and the woman looked at eachother and spread their wings.  Marinette was shocked, but she wouldn’t show it.

The large man had light brown eagle wings while the small woman had white and black woodpecker wings.  She wanted to reach out and touch the feathers, but then something bad would happen to them, so she held her hands together.

“We don’t care what your wing color is.  Your wings don’t define who you are, it’s what you do with your life that does.  Can we please help you?”

The woman said sincerely as she gripped the man’s hand in hers.  She felt a pull to them, something telling her to accept.  She didn’t want to hurt them though.  But maybe she could protect them?  Maybe she could find a way around her curse and make sure they don’t get hurt?  Slowly she nodded and they both looked so happy when she did.  She hoped that she wouldn’t hurt them, they didn’t deserve to be cursed.  Maybe if she didn’t touch them things would be ok.  If she didn’t let them touch her then it wouldn’t spread.  She could do this!

________

Apparently she couldn’t do it because this is a very affectionate family, and the first thing that happened before they let her sleep on their —super fluffy, pure Heaven— bed was give her a hug.  She had made sure that her wings were tucked under her clothes and tight against her back the entire time though.  So they didn’t touch her wings, so maybe that meant they wouldn’t be cursed.

It was strange, because the next morning they went to a courthouse, and she was adopted.  She hadn’t said anything throughout the entire event, she just watched and observed what people did.  They stayed in Tibet for another few days before they flew to Paris, France.  This was supposed to be her new home.  The city of light and love.  Maybe here, it would stop her curse.  It was so bright that it had to block out her darkness.  She still always carried one of her knives with her, she felt naked without one.  Tom and Sabine seemed to understand somehow, and said that it was her business and that was enough for them till she was ready to talk about it.  It was strange not to be interrogated for now wanting to tell someone something.

Marinette had lived with the Dupain-Chengs for about a year now.  It was strange really, they were honest business people and their joy was always sincere.  They didn’t question much of what she did even though it was probably weird to them.  They didn’t punish her for messing up like the league did, and they never went near her wings without permission.  They never plucked her feathers, and they would often ask if they could preen her wings.  She would refuse every time, but she would often wonder what it would be like to have someone else touch them.  Think of what it would be like if she weren’t cursed.  When it was time for school she would always wrap them around herself then tape them so no one would see or be able to touch them.  Things were finally going well, she couldn’t risk it now!

There was a blonde brat that liked to act like she was above her, and because her wings were always hidden with no explanation she made sure everyone knew that she was “wingless”.  She didn’t care though, being wingless was better than being evil winged.  She never really said anything in class or to other students, she never gave much reaction keeping her stoic face up.  The brat left her alone soon after for being a, “ridiculous!  Utterly ridiculous freak.”  And nobody was the wiser.

Being Lady Chaos was….the best thing that ever happened to her if she was being honest.  Even with pure black wings, people still thought she was a hero.  She never flew, she was scared she’d fall and die.  She was never allowed to fly before, and even if she technically can do so now, it’s not worth the risk.  Her partner though, Mr. Bug has gold, red, and black wings.  He can fly through the air with ease she wished she desperately had.  Sometimes after patrol she would go to the very top of the Eiffel Tower and just stretch her wings out as far out as she could.  She would close her eyes as the wind blew past her and ruffled her feathers and pretend that she was soaring through the air.

________

Year three of living with Tom and Sabine she was comfortable talking to them more, and with Plagg there to control her chaos she finally let them touch her wings.  It was strange really, she never took care of her wings, never cared enough to.  When she first felt the hands on her feathers she had to will herself not to draw them back for fear of them plucking or ripped out.  But Sabine’s hands were so gentle and smooth that they seemed to move on their own and go closer to her touch.  Sabine would smile and hum as she gently preened the dark raven feathers that were soft and smooth.  Maybe she could finally tell the class that she wasn’t wingless soon, and maybe they would be okay with it.

No, they would not as she learned from listening to her classmates talk to the new student, Lila Rossi.  To them Lady Chaos was the only good black winged person because she was chasing after Mr. Bug to earn his affections.  Lady Chaos was obviously evil before she met Mr. Bug and she would always be evil no matter what she did.  Marinette felt nauseous that she ever thought about telling them the truth.  She had never felt more betrayed than she felt now, because she had given them her trust, and they broke it without even knowing it.  After that day, she made extra sure that her wings were hidden and wore a bit thicker clothing just in case.  Tom and Sabine are a little worried about it, but she calmed them pretty quickly.  She was fine, it wasn’t like they were all great friends to begin with.  That’s probably why everyone sides with Lila and decides that she’s a terrible person.

She had tried leaving her past behind, pretending that she didn’t hurt and kill people.  Pretend that she wasn’t a weapon.  She tried to push it far away, but it wasn’t enough.  It was never enough.  She had abandoned her brother.  She betrayed the league.  She did unspeakable things to please someone who would never care about her, just her use.  The city of lights seems duller than usual, it was probably her fault Hawkmoth came to be in the first place, afterall she was cursed to bring ruin everywhere she went.

________

Lila and Chloe thought it would be a great idea to bring everybody to the Crime Capital of the World for their senior trip.  Probably to watch people flounder and worry when things go wrong, which they definitely would.  She had stopped Hawkmoth a month before the trip, but Mr. Bug took all the credit for it. The arrogant self centered bas*.  Adrien kept giving her side glances that always made her feel uncomfortable and slightly disgusted.  During school he would try to touch her with every chance he’d get.  He almost discovered her wings at one point.  She couldn’t do anything about it before because of the stupid your-rich-so-do-whatever-the-heck-you-want treatment.  Now that Adrien’s family fortune is gone, and people don’t trust him because of what his dad did, so he has to be more careful.  He now kept some distance, which she was extremely grateful for.

She would have broken his hand, she had imagined it plus other things more than once.  But then Tom and Sabine would get in trouble by Gabriel for her actions.  They didn’t deserve that, they had been nothing but good to her since they found her abandoned in that forest.

She would be fine though, as long as Lila had a grip on his arm and she was in the back, away from him.  She listened to their tour guide, Richard Grayson, talk about the history and importance of WE.  The architecture was brilliant really, and you couldn’t blame her for having to draw and sketch it.  She often thought of Damian when she sketched.  She used to leave drawings for him around the base, little things that expressed her adoration for him without getting too close.  She wondered if he was still with the league, had he escaped, did he die?  She hoped that wasn’t the case, she hoped that he would be alive and well.  Bright orange and white wings nearly slapped her in the face if she hadn’t stopped right before the movement had occurred.

“Oh my gosh!  I’m so sorry Marinette!  Sometimes my wings just spasm out of control like that!  I didn’t hurt you did I?”

Marinette just silently rolled her eyes and took a few steps backward and watched the class glare at her waiting for her to comfort the liar.  She would never lower herself to do that.  She was still an Al Ghul afterall, even if she did leave it behind when she fled.  She was thankful when lunch came, she waited far away from the line and watched silently from a dark corner to make sure no one would hurt her.  Then she felt it, a hand touching her back feeling for something.  She quickly and instinctively grabbed the arm and twisted it behind them pinning it behind their back at a painful angle.

“Ukhti, let go.”

Marinette knew that voice.  She remembered that name and she could feel her heart stop.  The lunchroom was silent as they watched the small bluenette silently and quickly release the “Ice Prince”. Everyone watched with bated breaths to see what would happen next.  The boy’s wings were ruffled in agitation and fear.

“Where are they?”

He demanded.  Marinette knew what he was talking about, she simply wrapped her arms around herself and turned her head away definitely.

“Why are you hiding them, Malak?  Please.”

Marinette could feel her wings moving in defiance to what her brain was saying.  They wanted to be shown, they wanted to be touched by her brother again.  She looked down and slowly uncrossed her arms from her body.  Damian gently took her hands in his and looked directly into her eyes.

“Everything will be ok, Taw'ami.”

She slowly nodded and with shaky fingers reached under her hoodie and began to slowly unwrap the tape that kept her wings confined.  When all the tape was in her hands she hesitantly removed her hoodie and let her wings unfold from around herself and into the open.  She had made shirts that let her wings slip through slits in the back that were tailored to her wings specifically and were most comfortable.  Damian marveled at how big her raven wings had grown and how shiny they were.  He reached out a hand slowly and gently ran his fingers down the inky black that was her wings.

Shouts of fear and accusations were thrown at her, mostly from her class.  She didn’t listen though, she just observed.  The tour guide was coming over now, probably to kick her out.  He had such lovely wings though,  they were a deep navy blue that looked similar to black with dark red and light blue running through them.  They looked so well kept and soft.

“Damian, what’s happening?  Who is this?”

“Grayson, meet my twin sister, Marinette.”

“You have a twin?!”

Richard exclaimed loudly, drawing even more attention.  The insults and jeers stopped after that.  She looked over at the class and smirked when she saw their shock and confusion.

“Yes, keep up.”

Damian said brusquely.  They must know each other well then.

“Come, we must take her away from these imbeciles and take her to father.”

Damian grabbed her wrist and tugged, her quickly falling into line like she used to when he did this.

“Now tell me Ukhti, have you been taking care of yourself?”

She nodded as they came to an elevator and walked into it with Richard right behind them.  Marinette felt her feathers fluff up nervously.  She wasn’t in control of them right now, and she wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. Damian ran a hand gently down her right wing trying to smooth it down.

“Things will be fine Marinette.  Just watch, father will be glad to meet you.”

She looked him in the eyes and squeezed her hands together.

“No, I have not told him about you.  Things will be fine though.”

He seemed to understand her weird way of communicating, she still didn’t understand how he did.  Richard cleared his throat and both turned to look at him.

“Sorry to interrupt, but um…I’m Dick, I’m Damian’s, and yours I guess, oldest brother.  It’s nice to meet you.”

He spread his wings in a welcoming way that meant and showed safety and peace. Her wings involuntarily rose up as well to reciprocate his greeting.  When the door to the elevator opened again she quickly forced her wings to hide on her back trying desperately to keep them from sight.  Damian didn’t seem to like it, but he just grabbed her wrist and dragged her to a large office room.  The plaque on the door read “CEO Bruce Wayne”.  Their father was Bruce Wayne?!  She couldn’t go in there, she couldn’t curse him and ruin his life.  No, she had already messed up at the league, and she was just barely not messing up with Tom and Sabine, she would definitely ruin Bruce Wayne’s life, and she would not allow that to happen.  She tugged at his grip desperately trying to get away.

“Marinette, stop.  Your wings are not cursed, that was a lie.”

Marinette shook her head and kept trying to escape the iron-like grip.

“Do you not trust me anymore?”

She froze at that and quickly shook her head.  Of course she trusted him, it was her that shouldn’t be trusted.

“Good, because we’re going in now.”

And that was that, because the door was now open and she was being dragged into the office room where their father and another boy with large bags under his eyes stared at them.  Damian puffed up his chest and feathers letting his strong, big, and brilliant wings rise into the air.

“Father, this is your daughter, my twin, Marinette Erebus Al Ghul-Wayne.”

They both stared at her in shock and Marinette slowly and cautiously raised her despicable black wings into the air.  Both stared at them in awe before looking back at her, but she didn’t meet their eyes.  She didn’t want to see the disgust and hatred in their eyes.

After a few moments she looked up and saw their wings greeting hers like Dick’s had.  Their father’s wings were a mix of black and dark grey alternating the color in each row of feathers.  The other boy’s were black at the top and slowly turned to red at the bottom.  But they were welcoming her openly, so that must mean something!  Well, it was time to get to know her father, she guessed.