#also they look like they were cut with a laser-level

[dramas-vs-novels]

Lian's bangs bother me more than I can adequately put into words

[innorogers]

Heliophilia

Steve Rogers x Reader (You / OFC)

Summary: Why are you always hiding from him?!

Warning: Fluff / Fluff / Very Fluff / Comfort / Very Comfort / Sooth?

Characters: OC, Sam Wilson, Tony Stark, Maria Hill, Natasha Romanoff

Also: This a new series ❤️ It's called: Burning Sun ✨

As far as Steve Rogers had been led to believe, the world adored Captain America—the symbol, the shield, the unwavering ideal. And not just the world—his teammates, the Avengers, and everyone he led—they liked him too. Sure, he was serious, but he was also kind, funny, and always a gentleman. He combined the decisiveness of a commander with the empathy of a brother-in-arms, leading not from arrogance but from an innate understanding of his soldiers’ hearts.

But beneath the weight of the shield and the praise, there was always one person whose gaze seemed to cut through the surface, treating him with an odd distance. It wasn’t disdain, though sometimes it felt close, nor was it indifference. It was something more elusive, more personal—a quiet tension that stirred between them.

Yeah that was the polite Jane Austen version.

In reality…

"What is wrong with her?" Steve exhaled after you’d given a laser-focused, perfect-in-every-way mission report, nodded politely, and walked away. Turning to Natasha, he finally voiced the question that had been nagging him for what felt like a million years: "Am I some kind of monster?"

"Who? Oh, her Captain...?" Natasha replied with your last name after the title, barely glanced up from the game on her phone, one she’d started five minutes after the briefing meeting started. "Why would you say that? Why are you picking on her… ?" Again.

"It’s just…" Steve ran his hand through his hair, a little more frustrated than he cared to admit. "She’s so… polite."

"Last time I checked, that was a good thing."

"And she’s always so… distant. If I’m standing here, she’s in the opposite corner, or hiding behind the curtains." That last part was an exaggeration, of course. You never actually hid from anything, but it felt like a metaphor for the way you always seemed far away from him.

Natasha didn’t blink. "I’ll tell her to sit on your lap next time."

"I’m nice." Steve said, walking by her side, nodding and smiling at everyone who greeted him with a courteous "Captain."

"Yup, you are."

"And respectful."

"No one like you, Cap."

"So why is she so strange to me?" Steve couldn’t understand. You’d been working together for almost two years, and still, your answers to him were: "Yes, Sir." "No, Sir." "Yes, Captain." "No, Captain."

Sometimes he ran into you in the halls or elevators. He tried making small talk—"Had a fun weekend?" "Yes, Captain." "Nice weather." "It is, Captain." But he quickly realized it was better to smile and endure the awkward silence.

You never looked him in the eye. You always looked at the floor. Sure, the Carrera marble on Level 2 was impressive, but it wasn’t that fascinating.

"So, is this a ME problem?" Steve resigned. He constantly reflected on himself, but this time, he couldn’t figure it out.

Of course it’s a YOU problem, Natasha thought, rolling her eyes. She had lost that level of her game anyway, so she pocketed her phone and shook her head. 

"Look, she’s just a tough player, alright? She likes to keep people at a distance. You can’t blame her for not being a social butterfly. And she’s like that with everyone."

"No, she’s not. She’s relaxed around Clint, Vision, and Bruce," Steve argued, he knows that because you typically confined your hair in a sleek ponytail, but when you are at ease, you start arranging it by letting it cascade, and he seems you do that sometimes when you talk with these folks. Those lucky bastards.

"She has casual conversations with Tony, talks about pilates with Maria, and she’s practically friends with Sam."

"Everyone’s friends with Sam," Natasha gave him a 'duh' look. Then, resigned, she said, "Look, just talk to her."

"Talk to her?"

"Yeah, like normal people do." Natasha gestured between the two of them. "Tell her how you feel about the way she acts and maybe that you’d like to… be closer."

"I…" Steve wanted to say he tried so many times, but then he asked himself: why his immediate response wasn’t ‘I don’t wanna be closer I wanna know what’s going on’? Maybe it is because being closer is what he really wants.

"And maybe then you’d know why…" Natasha added, shaking her head. Everyone knows why, Rogers. The girl had been in love with you since day one.

“And Steve…” Black Widow opened her mouth but then decided to shut up. She glared at him and just said it in her mind: maybe you don’t want to smile like that when you are thinking about her? It’s a little creepy. 

But she just smiled: “Talk to her tomorrow, you know, in a casual…encounter? So it doesn't sound like you are giving professional feedback about her behavior.” She waves her head in a suggestion: “You know, tomorrow's Family Day, I think it's a great chance to chat…”

“Hmm…” Steve nodded, hesitant. Good idea. 

Miss Heleana Christensen from the Data Department was a girl everyone loved. 

Silky skin, a petite figure, wavy brown hair, and dimples that appeared when she smiled. She wore large, round glasses that constantly slid down her nose, which she’d push back up with a finger now and then. When she was deep in thought, her lips would purse tightly, making the dimples on her cheeks flicker in and out of view—she was that kind of girl-next-door everyone adored, not just for her looks but because she was so damn cute.

Her job wasn’t fun—in fact, data analysis? Thank god there were professionals handling those never-ending Excel sheets and querying big data in the infinite Stark Industries database. 

But she worked hard, striving to perfect every task, because she wanted the ‘mightiest heroes, the best team in the universe’ (her words) to receive only the most accurate and flawless reports. She put all her effort into making sure everything was right. 

She actually believed she was saving lives, not excels.

Who wouldn’t like such a hardworking sweetheart?

So when Helaena asked Captain America if he wanted a coffee at Stark Industries’ Easter Charity Event, aka Family Day, with her sparkling eyes and cute dimples peeking from her smile, even Steve Rogers—who was always careful not to give any colleagues the wrong idea—found it hard to say no.

Family Day was held the Saturday before Easter every year. On that day, employees brought their families to the outdoors (the massive private Stark Industries compound) for games, picnics, barbecues, and maybe a picture with the Avengers for their kids to show off at school. 

It was a huge thing, and almost everyone attended. Though family members were encouraged to come, most attendees were single, turning the event into something of a casual dating scene.

“I would be honored.” Steve smiled, accepting her offer, and of course, he wasn’t about to let her pay for the coffee. Ever the gentleman, he bought the coffee and cake himself, but when he went to pick them up, he noticed you behind the counter.

Fuck, you didn’t have the chance to hide.

“Hey.” Steve smiled at you. A little surprised. He actually was looking for you everywhere.

“Captain.” You glanced at him once before quickly lowering your eyes, instinctively taking a small step back. Ugh…look at you: white t-shirt, jeans, and a ridiculous pink apron with a coffee stain you poured on yourself two minutes ago. You really wished you were wearing your blood-stained, sand-covered badass gear instead, but no, you had to be like a first day in work barista.

“What are you doing here?” Steve asked, glancing up at the booth sign. “I thought this was the data team’s booth?”

The charity event was set up like a kermesse, with each department having its own booth, and all the proceeds going to Stark’s foundation. As if that would add any zeros to its wealth.

“Um… I’m just helping out a friend,” you replied softly, forcing the least awkward smile you could. “What can I get’ya?”

“Oh, um… two cappuccinos. And… I don’t know…cake?” He blinked a few times as he scanned the menu.

“The apple pie just came out hot.” You brushed a strand of hair covering your face, feeling yourself blush. “And I think it’s low-calorie?” You say that, but what the fuck would you know? You rolled your eyes at yourself in silence.

“Sounds great.” Steve smiled warmly. “I’ll take two, thanks for the calories heads up.” 

He handed over the cash, but in an awkward moment, you missed grabbing it. The bill slipped onto the counter, and as you both reached down to pick it up, the moment your fingers brushed his skin, you recoiled like you’d touched a live wire.

“I am so sorry.” That was dumb as fuck. And you called yourself an elite soldier with these reflexes? God help this planet because you surely couldn’t.

“No, my bad.” Steve chuckled, shaking his head, and wondered—why are you acting like this, AGAIN? Was he really that intimidating? 

Just as you turned to get his change, a voice called out from behind the booth, “Yo, I’m back! Thanks for covering.” Your coworker returned with a big smile. “Hey, Cap! What can I get ya?”

“Hey, George. Got everything I needed already, thanks.” Steve greeted him with a smile and handed over the order. You were already stepping away, untying that ridiculous stupid stupid! apron.

Steve wanted to say something, but then a voice called from behind.

“Cap!” Sam appeared, clapping Steve on the back. When he spotted you, his grin widened graciously. “Oh man, did you finally make a move? Did you ask her out?”

That made you freeze. Your hands paused, still hanging up that pink thing. You held your breath, not daring to look back. Or to breathe. Damn it, Sam.

Steve exhaled in exasperation at Sam’s not-so-subtle comment. “I gotta go.” He muttered, giving Sam a warning glare. “Knock it off.”

“Oh shit.” Sam whispered, watching Steve hand the coffee to Helaena as they walked off together. Clicking his tongue, Sam shook his head. “That was awkward.” 

Then when noticed you trying to walk away unnoticed, he approached with a sigh.

“You know…” Sam leaned in a little with a knowing smirk, “You should tell him something if you want anything to happen.” He tilted his head toward Steve, who had walked off with Haelena but still glanced back at you once more.

“I’m not…” You rubbed your forehead. “Is it that obvious?”

“I mean, no… not to everyone. But I’m The Falcon, ya know? Top-tier observation skills. So yeah, I noticed.” He grinned brightly. 

“And so have Natasha, Tony, Wanda, Vision, Bruce, Maria, Clint, the Parker kid, Thor, the cleaning lady, your crew, my crew, even the bald guy with only one eye… you get the idea.”

“Great.” You were mortified. Maybe asking for a mission to Saudi Arabia tomorrow would be a great idea so you can get the hell outta here.

“Well, since we’re on the subject,” Sam added casually, “I think he knows, too.”

“What?” Nope, Saudi is not gonna do. Asgard now, sounds quite far enough.

“And I think he likes you, too.” Sam continued. “So maybe stop acting like a teenage girl, and be the badass sniper you are? Ask him out for a drink or something, I’ll bet first rounds he’d say yes.”

“I…” You didn’t know what to say. “I… I’m not…” 

And your gaze wandered back to Steve, who was walking with Helaena, his smile as gentle and radiant as ever.

That smile.

It was like sunshine cutting through clouds, golden rain filtering through the mist at dawn. Warmth that chased away the darkness, scattering any lingering shadows.

You sighed, a soft smile tugging at your lips.

“I’m not…that.” you finally said, looking at Haelena. 

Look at her: she’s cuteness in person. The kind of girl who could open her heart and arms, ask for hugs and kisses with a bright smile, make people feel lucky to have met her, bringing sunshine, and stirring feelings of tenderness or protection.

You lacked many virtues, but self-awareness wasn’t one of them. You knew exactly what you were: ashes of war, bullets cracking in helmets, blood and sweat, sleepless nights, anxiety, stubbornness, and severe insomnia.

“Exactly.” Sam smiled at you, his tone encouraging. “You’re just the most badass woman I’ve met…”

He paused.

“...after Nat, Wanda, Pepper, Maria… but you know…”

“Nope.” You laughed softly, voice barely a whisper. “I don’t think I am.” At all. 

So Family Day hadn’t gone as expected. Steve had done plenty of talking, just not with you.

He hadn’t seen where you’d been all day, so his last chance was on the bus taking everyone back to the facility. He noticed you slipping into the last row. As the door closed behind him, the bus started moving, and he caught glimpses of you in the front-row mirrors.

You sat alone at the back, no one nearby. Should he move closer? This might be his chance—maybe his last one—before you returned to your usual role as the distant, official soldier, always holding up an invisible shield against him. 

Steve sighed, watching you. The sunset cast a glow on your silhouette, drawing a golden line in your contour, you looked like an ancient Greek statue, frozen in time and in eternal beauty, taking his breath away.

Then, without warning, you stood up, and Steve frowned. 

What's wrong?

The attack hit before he could even turn around. 

A missile struck from the right side of the bridge, blowing half of it apart. Fortunately, the traffic was sparse, but the explosion left a massive hole, and several cars couldn’t stop in time, plunging into the gap.

The air filled with the acrid scent of burning debris as the bus windows shattered. The bus collided with other vehicles that had braked suddenly, crashing several times before finally stopping. Instinctively, Steve threw out his arm, shielding those around him from the impact.

"Is everyone alright?" He called out, standing up and scanning the bus. His eyes anxiously searched for you among the dazed passengers. Natasha and Sam had already jumped out of the broken windows, moving into action.

"Open the door!" Maria, blood trickling down her forehead, kicked open the rear exit, supporting a nearby passenger. "Everyone out!" she urged.

"Three V65 drones." You muttered, pressing your hand to a cut near your eye as you struggled to your feet. The ringing in your ears from the explosion made it hard to focus. 

"Northwest direction... G9 missile. Fires every minute and a half, maybe two." You reported aloud while helping Maria guide people off the bus.

"Evacuate everyone," Steve sighed in relief after finally seeing you. "Everyone." He repeated, his eyes locked on you.

But, of course, you didn’t consider yourself as "everyone." You were already off the bus before he could called you out. After helping Maria get the rest of the passengers out, you returned to the back, retrieved the gear, and took cover behind an overturned car.

“I’m a minute away,” Tony’s voice buzzed through your comms, accompanied by the hum of his suit. “I’m with Sam in the air. We’ll get the people near the river out first.”

“Make it quick!” Maria ordered, firing behind the defense line Steve had set up amidst the chaos. “Who the hell are these guys?” A second missile whooshed through the air just as she finished.

Iron Man deflected it with a repulsor blast, but much of the enemy fire began targeting him in midair. He barely managed to destroy the missile that posed the biggest threat before getting hit by another shot, almost knocking him out of the sky.

The missile struck the riverbed, shattering the bridge’s support. The ground beneath you began to tilt as cars slid down into the chaos, dust and debris swirling around. But the enemy fire didn’t stop.

"Sam, break through their front line!" Steve commanded, dodging falling cars as he raced up the slanted bridge, pulling Maria with him.

“Watch out with the cars rain!” Natasha called out with a hint of amusement, also making her way upward, dodging vehicles sliding into the water. "Feels like Washington all over again."

“Washington wasn’t that fun, we weren’t even there…” Tony quipped from above, just before stopping mid-sentence. "Cap, behind you...!"

Steve spun around, but he was too late. Two gunshots echoed, and a figure appeared in front of him, taking the hits meant for him.

You hit the ground hard but got up quickly, clutching your wounded shoulder, your fingers digging into the wound to staunch the bleeding.

Before Steve could react, you had already raised your gun, aiming past him. He hesitated, stunned, but two more shots rang out, passing a hair's breadth from his skin, followed by the grunts of fallen enemies behind him. 

He couldn’t even process, and you were an all blur of motion, storming past him like a whirlwind.

You kneed the first attacker in the jaw, grabbed the second by the elbow, twisted his arm until you heard a ‘crack’, and used his own knife to dispatch him quickly. Then turned his weapon on the third, shot him down before he could even trigger the damn thing.

"Damn!" Sam muttered, watching in awe as you moved swiftly, fiercely.

Two bullets weren’t enough to slow you down. Pain was good. It kept you sharp, focused.

You surged forward like an arrow, calculating distances, the wind, mapping enemies at your sight. 

You were pissed. 

No, pissed was not even close to describing it.

You were furious. 

The thought of anyone attacking him like that, of him being hurt, filled you with a fire that made you faster, deadlier.

This was the kind of soldier you were—driven by adrenaline, pain sharpening your senses, your fury igniting your determination, making you more dangerous with every wound. And that anger... oh that was just the cherry on top.

"Enemies at my 12." You reported, spotting the last of them. But before you could act, the ground beneath you cracked, and you slid down as the bridge crumbled.

Massive chunks of concrete tumbled into the water below, the steel and iron reinforcements snapping like fragile threads. You fell along with the debris.

“Get her!” Steve’s voice broke, filled with panic. "Now, Sam!!"

"On it!" Falcon swooped down, grabbing you just in time, lifting you across the collapsing bridge. As soon as you landed, you were already moving, sprinting ahead.

"Where are you going?" Sam shouted.

"The sniper’s that way!" You yelled back, leaping over overturned cars. "VG5 ammo—they’re likely still in the same spot. South of where I was."

You were fast, crouching down, and aiming. "Wind at 30 km/h, bullet speed at 400 km/h..."

"Distance: 200 meters..." You steadied your breathing, focusing. "This shouldn’t be a problem.." you muttered, despite the pain throbbing in your shoulder. Your left arm was nearly useless, but you gritted your teeth and kept your eye on the target.

You just needed to focus. 

You’ve done this shit a hundred times and in worse conditions. 

So, focus.

Two shots, and one of the snipers fell. The others scattered, but your bullets found them quickly.

"Wow..." Sam whistled in disbelief. "Girl…I didn’t mean this when I said ‘go back into badass mode’."

He reached to pat your shoulder, then noticed the blood soaking through your uniform. "Shit, you’re hit."

"You're hurt," Steve arrived seconds later. "Let me see—how bad is it?" His voice cracked with concern. “What were you thinking?! I could’ve blocked those shots with my shield…Why..." The thought of what could’ve gone wrong—the bullet straying, Sam not reaching you in time—tightened a knot of fear in his chest.

Before he could inspect your wound, you collapsed from blood loss.

Steve caught you just in time, lifting you gently as a groan escaped your lips.

"Nice catch, Cap," Sam quipped, still finding time to joke.

"Shut up!" Steve snapped, uncharacteristically irritated, as he cradled you in his arms. The scent of blood filled his senses as he looked down at your pale face. You hadn’t completely passed out, but you were clearly in pain, biting your lip to stay silent.

As he carried you, you curled away from him, avoiding contact. 

Damn, why are you doing this again? Steve almost grunted in frustration, but then he saw your pale face and his heart just clenched.

"You’re making this hard for me." Steve sigh as giving up, he spoke as softly as he could. 

"Here, let’s..." He gently moved your arm around his neck, tucking it in place. "There, better?"

"I... I don’t want to stain your clothes with blood," you muttered weakly.

Steve couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He stared at you, trying to not lose his temper in your stubbornness, frowning slightly. "You saved my life. And you’re hurt."

Quickening his pace toward the medics, he added. "You could burn all my clothes and I wouldn’t give a damn."

Of course nothing happened between the two of you after that attack, Steve was too busy getting his hands on whoever the fuck that was behind the attack, he was outraged. 

Well, not only him, the whole Level 1 and above were in the same state, like…who the fuck would dare to attack the Avengers so publicly? They felt invaded and insulted, even if the whole enemy team was captured or eliminated, that didn’t take away the fact that everyone went through danger. On family day!

Steve was pissed. Not only because all the investigation took 90% of his time, but also because he didn’t even get the chance to see you while you were lying in the hospital. All that stuff he was planning to tell you in a private and emotional state? Didn’t happen, at all. 

“What do you mean she’s been discharged?” Steve demanded, after reviewing your health report on the tablet. He set it down sharply on the desk and looked at Maria, his tone serious. “It’s been three days. She took two shots to the shoulder. How could she be discharged so soon?”

Commander Hill received the “I told you to go easy on this topic” look from Sam, and scowled to Steve: “I…don’t make the rules? She is level 1, Cap, I don’t think she received the same treatment as in a regular hospital…I bet this is where Stark’s healing magic tech kicks in.”

“Shit.” Steve ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. “Alright... fine. Do we know where she is?”

How in the world would I know? Maria thought but offered, “We could track her mobile. It’s probably on 24/7.”

Letting out a deep sigh, Steve didn’t want to do that, to intrude your privacy, but he was worried. He didn’t even know why, or…as whom was he worried, as your supervisor, your team mate, your fellow work pal? Like, you weren’t even that close. 

“Yes. Do it. Send her location to my phone.” Grabbing his jacket, he added, “I’ll be back in a few.”

“…” Commander Hill opened her mouth to say something like ‘I gotta more important shit than crashing to your crush’s mobile’, but Steve already left the room, she looked at the completely silenced room full of all the Avengers, and just did a ‘what just happened’ face. 

“Five bucks says he doesn’t get the girl today.” Tony broke the silence.

“Yeah, I’m in.” Clint was the first to respond, followed by Nat and Rhodey.

While the others were placing bets on your so-called romance, Steve was already tracking your phone. At first, he thought the GPS was glitching because it was leading him to the MET.

Actually, it was working perfectly (Tony would later smugly confirm that). You were at the Captain America exhibition, which had been relocated from Washington to New York after the Smithsonian became a crater, courtesy of a Helicarrier.

Steve slowed down when he found you in the exhibition hall, his steps halting completely when he saw you.

It was a weekday, during work hours, so the place was nearly empty. 

The natural light streamed in from the ceiling, casting large patches of sunlight that quietly illuminated your silhouette as you sat on a long bench, bathed in a soft, glowing light.

Your gaze floated, like a gentle river, to the black-and-white photograph on the wall in front of you.

It was one of the few preserved images of Steve before the serum. Back when he was a slender, delicate young man with refined features, frail and thin.

Steve barely remembered looking like that. These days, all he saw in the mirror was his current self—tall, strong, healthy. Now, standing in front of that photo, he found it almost unfamiliar, though he could still faintly recognize the determination in those unchanged, resolute eyes.

But you—he was looking at you. Your gaze was so tender, your head tilted slightly upward, a faint smile playing at your lips. The soft curve of your mouth radiated quiet contentment, and in your eyes, there was nothing but the reflection of that photograph.

Nothing but him.

That’s when Steve knew.

There was nothing else, in your eyes, but him.

All his nervousness and uncertainty melted away, replaced by a sudden warmth and joy.

Leaning against the wall, Steve realized he had the same look on his face. You were gazing at a photo of him, and he...was gazing at you.

And in his eyes, there was nothing else, but you.

You heard the soft echo of footsteps behind you and turned slightly, freezing in place when your gaze met his.

He was standing in front of you, every inch of his silhouette outlined by the backlight. Just his presence, just being in his shadow, made you feel incredibly safe. For a moment, you couldn’t tear your eyes away. But instinctively, you lowered your gaze, flustered.

You wanted to hide. You felt like a mess—a bandaged shoulder, probably some ash still in your hair, and the faint smell of the hospital clinging to your skin. But he was already sitting beside you.

“I used to get sick a lot back in those days.” Steve said, his eyes on the picture of his younger self. “Whenever the seasons changed, I’d get fevers and runny noses.. Spring was a little better, but the pollen made my asthma unbearable. And summers...” He sighed. “Brooklyn was a nightmare. Hot and humid. My joints ached constantly. Joining the army was probably the worst idea I had, but I was stubborn.”

He laughed softly. “Stubborn as hell. When it comes to what I want, the goals I’ve set... and the people I care about.” 

His eyes never left yours, and you could see your own bewilderment reflected in his steady gaze.

“I don’t buy it for a second... that you don’t know.” He said softly, pausing for a moment before you lowered your eyes again.

You wanted to hide, but under his gaze, there was nowhere to escape.

“If you were so afraid... why did you take all those risks for me?” Steve asked, his voice quiet. Why were you so fearless on the battlefield but treated him like something to fear in everyday life?

“I remember everything, you know?” His voice softened, distant as he recalled the past. “All the risks you’ve taken. Sometimes... reckless, bold...”

He shook his head, a mix of frustration and admiration in his voice. “God, I remember our first fight, you broke enemies lines, just to get my shield back…I was desperate, and then you come back with that…impeccable yet stubborn as fuck attitude ‘I’m sorry Sir but I had to do it’ shit, drove me crazy. I didn’t know what to do. You wouldn’t step back, and I knew, even if I suspended you, you’ll just go and do the same stupid and impulssive thing next time.”

You smiled faintly, looking down. Of course, you remembered. You had a scar on your back from that mission. One you wore with pride.

“So why?” Steve whispered, searching your face. “Why would you risk everything... and then hide?”

“What about you?” You asked, finally looking up at him. “On that plane, at the end of the war, why did you stay until the last moment? You could’ve escaped before it crashed into the frozen sea. I’ve seen the reports. You could’ve swam away. Why did you stay until the explosion?”

“I couldn’t,” Steve answered without hesitation. “The stakes were too high. If it didn’t explode in the sea, it would’ve been New York. I couldn’t let that happen, not even a small chance. I’d rather die than…” He stopped, getting your point.

“Right?” You nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “…than having that risk?”

Steve’s breath caught in his throat. Your sincerity, your determination—it made his heart ache.

Goddamn it…Why do you have to be so obstinate, inflexible, reckless…loyal, brave and fierce? He would spend the rest of his life worrying as fuck, fearing for this willingness to sacrifice attitude of yours.

Almost instinctively, he reached out and covered your hand with his. His voice barely above a whisper.

“What are you afraid of?”

Your lips move, you want to pull your hand away from his grasp, but you find yourself without the strength. 

Because you wanted him. 

As a leaf growing from a seed breaking out from the ground and reaching out to embrace sunlight and warmth. To embrace life.

You want to hold his hand back, feel his palm against yours. You know that feeling him, would be enough to know that all is well in the world, that there’s nothing left to fear. You could exist freely and quietly behind him, fearless. 

This wish. So strong yet so powerless, makes you so vulnerable, you could barely exist in his presence. 

You hesitated for a long time, trying to put the words together, trying to tell him the truth yet not burden him, and finally, you speak in a low voice.

“If the ending is something you can’t bear... isn’t it better to avoid it?”

Steve stood silent for what felt like an eternity. 

“I promise you.” 

He brushed a stray lock of hair from your cheek and lifted your chin so your eyes met his.

“There will be no ending.”

You could barely breathe at these words. Yet your heart was beating so strong, so fast, so loud, you felt it was going to explode.

“I'm scared too.” He sees your expressions, your broken soul, your fear of heartbreak and the endless uncertainty to lose something you longed for a lifetime. 

“But…” He cupped your face in his hands as if you were something precious, something he had been waiting for his whole life. 

“Being with you…it’s worth it, I’d rather have you and risk heartbreak than not have you at all.” 

The sunlight bathed you both, it was so bright and dazzling that it brought your eyes with tears.

“And I know I can’t change you,” Steve continued, his voice filled with quiet resignation. “You will continue to be this… badass goddess of war, in the first row of any fight, any battle to come. But I’ll try my best to shield you, from any danger, any suffering, or any pain. I’ll do my best. With all I have.” 

“No.”

Your expression shifted, and after a few heartbeats, you slowly smiled up at him.

“There’s no such thing… as suffering, pain, or danger…” You whisper, finally turning your head to meet his gaze. Your eyes seem to shimmer with unshed tears. “Not as long as it is with you. I’ll take it all, I’ll walk on fire and…”

You couldn’t finish your sentence, his lips claim yours.

That kiss… wasn’t gentle as you imagined. Instead, it’s forceful, filled with a possessive intensity. Maybe it’s because Steve has been holding back for so long, and now, that surge of determination finally breaks free.

His urgent need to have you, the longing that had kept him restless for so long, felt like a crashing wave, carrying with it all the emotions he had hidden away. Steve’s hand cradled the back of your neck while the other wrapped tightly around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer.

It was like every first kiss in the world, filled with breathless exhilaration and the glorious wonder of a starry night. 

His lips claimed yours with an intensity that took you by surprise, yet it felt natural, inevitable, as though this moment had been written in the stars long before either of you existed.

You didn’t realize it at the time, but something in Steve shifted. It was as if he’d made a silent vow in that kiss—one you couldn’t hear but could feel in the way he held you, how he kissed you like the world was ending.

In the quiet of the exhibition hall, surrounded by photographs and memories of his past, none of that mattered to him. Not the image of Captain America, not the accolades, not the expectations.

In that moment, it was just Steve, kissing the woman he loved. And for the first time in a long time, he didn’t care who saw. He didn’t care if the whole world was watching.

Every poster, every photo hanging on the walls was of him, of the man everyone else expected him to be. But right now, none of that mattered. He was making a choice, and it wasn’t for show, wasn’t for the sake of his legacy. It was for you, and only you.

The world beyond the walls blurred. There were no battles, no looming responsibilities, no enemies lurking in the shadows. Just the two of you, as though time itself had slowed to witness this one fragile moment.

As your lips parted, both of you breathless, your foreheads pressed together, eyes closed, feeling the shared pulse of your heartbeats.

There was so much you wanted to say, to ask, but the words wouldn’t come. You were there, in wonderstruck, as standing in the middle of a vivid dream.

Steve spoke first, his voice hushed but filled with a resolve you’d rarely heard before. 

“I’m not going to let you run away again,” He whispered, his hand still gently cupping your face. “Not from this. Not from us.”

You opened your eyes, meeting his gaze—those same resolute eyes that had stared back at you from that black-and-white photograph, unchanged by time or transformation. You knew then, with the same certainty as his, that there was no running away.

You won’t run. Or hide.

Not anymore.

End, but probably will continue ;)

Oh yeah, I love this fierce yet fragile OC. This is actually the translation of an original piece I wrote back in 2021? Originally in chinese so I'm SO SORRY if it's weird reading it in english cause...well, struggling with the words, hehe. But I loved this piece so much I wanted to share it with you, cause damn, I loved him so much in that part of my life :3 (I do love him still.)

And for my babes that are waiting on Miracle Nr. 12! I'm so sorry not posting about it this week cause I'm still trying to figure out whether continue with the angst plot, or the original angst and dark as f... plot that's leading the story to a very very sad and dark twist. Still has an happy ending, I promise. It will be there on next Friday!

Oh I'm sorry I got carried away writing so much hehe, hope you enjoyed it!!

Tag list: @vioplay19 / @jamneuromain / @steviebbboi / @heletsmelovehim / @otterlycanadian / hisredheadedgoddess28

let me know if you want to be added! 🥰

✨ Miracle Nr. 12 ✨ Series:

1: Insomnia | 2: Lucid | 3: Reverie | 4: Nightmare | 5: Awakening | 6: Dusk | 7: Hypnagogia | 8: Lull | 9: Vigil | 10: Eclipse | 11: Veil

[unseededtoast]

Shadow of Obsession | Spencer Reid x Reader

Finale

Series summary: In which you find that love is an obsession that can quickly spiral out of control.

Also cross-posted on Wattpad and AO3. Link to my masterlist for everything else I’ve posted

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Finale

And now you know that love is an obsession that can quickly spiral into something all consuming. 

Spencer runs point in clearing out the warehouse. His gun is drawn and he's laser-focused on making sure nobody escapes from inside. The team had split up to cover the entrances, each moving swiftly. And once Spencer hears through his earpiece that everyone is into position, he makes his move.

"FBI hands in the air." He demands as he enters the warehouse. His voice reverberates off the metal walls as he swivels his head to locate Valentine.

But the warehouse is dark and empty. There's nobody here. Spencer holsters his gun and looks around the property to see if maybe Valentine is trying to hide somewhere. The rest of the team searches as well but an uneasy feeling settles within Spencer.

"It's clear." JJ states as the team convenes in the middle of the warehouse. Adrenaline still pumps through Spencer's veins as he tries to work out what this means for the case.

But no matter how logically he tries to think all his mind focuses on is you. Spencer knows that Valentine's absence here means that you're still in danger. He finds his phone tucked in his pocket and dials your number. But it goes to voicemail.

He tries not to panic, he really tries. So he calls again, hoping that maybe you were preoccupied with something else, maybe you had taken a walk or something. But it goes to voicemail again. Spencer calls for a third time, but this time he doesn't let it go to voicemail.

"Something's wrong." He tries to keep his strained voice level, but he can hear the tension in his words as they leave his mouth.

"What are you thinking?" Hotch asks, crossing his arms across his chest.

"Someone try to reach Garcia. I think we've been set up." Spencer says as he turns to run back to the SUVs.

As he runs his fingers fumble to call Penelope. Her phone rings and rings and rings. But nobody picks up. With shaking hands Spencer gets into the SUV and is about to turn the key to start it when someone opens the door.

"Get out kid, I'll drive." Derek says, motioning for Spencer to step out.

"We don't have time." Spencer practically shouts. Derek reaches over to still Spencer's hand clutching the keys.

"We don't. And you're in no right mind to drive. Get over there and let me get us back to the office." Derek's voice carries a sense of authority with it. And so Spencer hands over the keys before clumsily climbing over the middle console to the passenger seat.

While Derek speeds off back towards the office with sirens blaring, Spencer keeps trying to reach you or Penelope. His leg is bouncing up and down rapidly and he wishes that the car could drive at the speed of the jet. He just needs to know you're okay. He needs to know you're safe.

Finally, after the thousandth time, Penelope finally picks up.

"Your wish is my comm-"

"Penelope there's no time. I need you to go to the bullpen and see if she's okay. I can't reach her and Valentine wasn't at the warehouse." Spencer cuts Penelope off with rushed words.

"What? What do you mean he wasn't there his car clearly showed that he was." The panic in her voice is palpable and Spencer hears movement on the other line.

"I need you to go check on her now please." Spencer struggles to keep his cool. He hears Penelope's office door open and close and he faintly hears her heels clicking on the floor.

"The lights are all off." Penelope says.

"What do you mean the lights are off?" Spencer's mind feels like it could start smoking at any second with the amount of scenarios playing themselves out at the same time.

"I can't open the doors. The doors are stuck. I can't, I can't get in." The panic in Penelope's voice escalates and Spencer hears her pushing on the door.

"Do you see her?" Derek glances at Spencer momentarily before focusing back on the road. Spencer can tell that Derek's accelerated more as the car seems to scream down the road.

"No, I don't- wait. Oh my God. Spencer. You guys need to get back here now." Penelope's voice turns gravely serious before the line cuts off completely.

"Penelope? Garcia? Hello?" Spencer practically shouts. But all he's met with is silence. His hands grip his phone so tightly he thinks it might shatter under the pressure. A wave of nausea washes over him but he wills himself to not get sick. You need him, he doesn't have time to spiral.

"What did Garcia say?" Derek finally asks, no longer able to take not knowing. Spencer takes a shaky breath before looking over to Derek.

"The doors are locked. The lights are off. Garcia said we needed to get back immediately." Is all he can say without getting sick all over the car.

Spencer's mind starts playing cruel tricks on him. He sees you as the face of countless other victims. Some had been shot, others stabbed, a few dismembered, but they're all victims of stalking cases the team has worked in the past. He can't bear the thought of anyone harming a hair on your perfect head.

"We'll get there." Derek says with determination. Spencer can only hope he's right. 

———

Valentine's voice echoes through the empty bullpen as you spin around in the dark office, trying to see where he is. Your heart thumps heavily in your chest and your knees feel weak.

"Oh don't look so frightened dear." His voice booms out of the intercom. You're acutely aware that he's actively surveilling you but there's nothing you can even do about it.

The cameras in the corners of the room track your every move. Every inch you move, they move. Your brain is going haywire, wrestling between logical profiler thinking and terrified victim mentality. Thousands of thoughts race through your mind at once to try and form a plan, but no matter how many thoughts cross your mind, it all just sounds like a jumbled mess. You're freezing.

It feels as if your feet have been cemented to the ground. It's almost like your vocal cords have been cut as well, seeing as how you can't find it within you to form a sentence.

"I'm almost there. Don't worry." Valentine's voice cuts through the silence again.

You're too scared to move. He's going to be here soon. Deep down you know it's a threat. Valentines has you right where he wants you; like a caged animal. There's no way for you to get out or warn others. All you have with you is your service weapon. As you reach for your gun it's like your heart stops; you must've forgotten it in your bag you packed earlier, the one you left in the empty office Hotch is letting you use.

You're all alone in here and Valentine is on his way.

Time moves slowly but too quickly all at once. As if everything were suddenly in slow motion, you watch as Valentine unlocks the doors with his phone and steps into the bullpen with you. Instantly, all the cameras turn off.

Your breaths are shaky, your heart pounds and your chest hurts from fear. Adrenaline tingles the tips of your fingers.

But though you're afraid, there's a tiny voice in the back of your mind reminding you that you've dealt with people like this before. You've worked several similar cases. Deep down, you know how to navigate this situation. But when you're the victim, it's like your training has vanished and you're reduced to nothing but a scared little girl. You don't want to be a scared girl, you want to be strong and brave and smart.

Valentine smiles sickly at you, his white teeth shine like fangs in the dim light. The glint of something shiny in his pocket distracts you from this face. It seems he's brought a knife with him.

You try your hardest to level out your breathing and to think with a clear mind, with a profiler's mind. After all, you've been trained and conditioned for high stress scenarios. You can only hope you don't crumble when it matters.

"Well, aren't you happy to see me?" Valentine asks, taking several steps towards you. Instinctively you want to reach your hands out to maximize the distance between the two of you, but you keep your hands to your sides.

"I am." Your voice falters only slightly, hopefully he doesn't notice. Valentine looks you up and down, licking his lips as he does so.

"You know, you are so much more beautiful up close like this." He takes another step closer.

"Thank you." You accept his compliment, swallowing the sickness threatening to rise.

Valentine steps right in front of you, his tall figure looms over you. He stares down at you and you feel like a gazelle in the middle of an open field, and Valentine is a starved lion. His hand reaches out and touches your face. You flinch.

"Do you think I'd hurt you?" He sounds offended by your reaction to his touch. Thinking quickly, you answer.

"No, never. It's just- your hands are cold. That's all." You try to play it off convincingly. He looks down at his hands and rubs them together to warm them up. His fingers trace over your cheekbone once more.

"I've waited so long for this, for you." He whispers as he looks over your face. You can only hope you're masking your fear well enough.

"If only you hadn't let him touch you like that." Valentine's voice turns from sweet to sinister in the blink of an eye. Your eyes meet his and you see malice and hatred within them. He looms over you and takes his fingers away from your face, like your skin suddenly burned him.

"What do you mean?" You decide to play dumb, maybe there's a chance you can talk your way out of this. Valentine snarls and takes a step back.

"You know what I'm talking about. Spencer. Fucking. Reid." He enunciates his words in an exaggerated manner. Your mouth is dry and your brain can't keep up and decide how you should play your cards.

"I, I don't-"

"Save it. I'm not stupid." He cuts you off and begins pacing back and forth in front of you. Valentine pushes his hand through his hair and you see his face turn red.

"I saw. I saw it all. You let him put his hands all over you. You let him put his lips on your skin. You even let him into your bedroom. How could you? How could you do that to me after I went out of my way for you?" He practically yells at you. The vein in his neck pops and you see his hand drift to his back pocket.

You put your hands out towards him, palms facing him and try to de-escalate the situation. There have been several cases where you've had to talk down unsubs in this exact frame of mind.

"I only let him do it because I was imagining it was you and not him." It's a long shot but you hope he buys it. You also wonder how long you can stall before someone finally comes back.

Valentine stops pacing for just a fraction of a second. He stares at you intensely. His jaw clenches.

"You understand why I have a hard time believing that, right?" His voice has returned to being unsettlingly calm.

"I know. But it's the truth." You say, letting your hands fall back down to your side.

You and Valentine stare at each other, a tense silence filling the room. It looks like he's trying to rationalize your words. And after what feels like a small eternity, he speaks up again.

"If that were true, you would've let me stay that day I came to your apartment. Instead, you dismissed me and let him stay." Valentine's hand reaches for something in his back pocket.

He rushes at you and swings, a silver blade in his hand. You barely dodge it before he's swinging at you again. Valentine is a trained FBI agent, you both went through the same hand to hand combat training. He's fast, he's strong. And you struggle to dodge his attacks.

In an attempt to put as much space between you as possible, you back away and tip chairs and files into the floor to hopefully trip him. But eventually he lunges forward and the blade cuts your abdomen.

The pain temporarily freezes you, allowing Valentine to grab you and shove you to the floor. He stands over top of you and smiles widely down at you. You feel the warm blood start soaking through your shirt but you can't look away to see how bad it is.

Valentine drops to his knees and straddles your torso, he drags the blade across your cheekbone and down your throat. He presses ever so slightly and creates small cuts on your cheek. The blood streams down your face and onto the floor in thin streams.

"Please." You resort to begging. At this point you know he's got nothing to lose and therefore he likely has no boundaries or care in the world.

"Shhh. It's my turn, and I earned this." He says and drops the blade. His hands wrap around your throat and he presses down hard in the center, cutting off your air supply.

You thrash and kick and hit to try and get him off of you. But he's simply too strong. He's twice your size and deranged. You dig your nails into his skin and claw at his hands. But all he does is smile. And you feel your lungs burning and you're starting to panic.

You try to get air into your lungs and your body shakes from lack of oxygen. Your efforts to free yourself are only making you run out of air quicker. Valentine presses his thumbs into the column of your throat.

"We could've been great. You and I. We could've been so happy together. But you had to go and give yourself to him. No, he doesn't deserve you. He couldn't make you feel good like I could. How could you do this?" Valentine spits down at you as your limbs become too heavy to move.

The edge of your vision starts to become staticky and dotted. But you can see tears streaming down Valentine's face and you feel them drip onto your face. But you're too tired to wipe them away. Your eyelids feel like they weigh 20 pounds each.

It's just so much easier to close them.

———

"Garcia did you get the door locks back online?" Hotch authoritatively asks as the team rushes into the building. Penelope tries her best to keep up with Hotch, tears stream down her face.

"Sir I tried. I tried but I didn't have enough time." Her words are broken up by sobs.

Spencer doesn't have time for this. He shoves past everyone else and reaches the glass doors. His eyes scan the dark office and he sees you laying still on the floor. Motionless. Valentine is hunched overtop of you, his hands wrapped around your throat.

Without thinking, Spencer reaches for his gun and shoots through the door. The glass shatters and falls to the floor in a billion pieces. But he doesn't care. All he can see is red as he steps over the glass and into the bullpen.

Spencer reaches Valentine in record time and he wastes no time to kick Valentine off of you. He lands a solid kick to the side of Valentine's face and when Valentine loses his balance and falls from overtop of you, Spencer pushes him on to his back.

When Valentine rolls over onto his back Spencer grabs his shirt in one hand and punches Valentine's face with the other. He hits him again. And again. And again. Everything that Valentine has done to you replays in his head each time his fist connects with Valentine's face.

"Spencer, stop. Stop you can't do this here." He hears someone say as he's forcefully pulled away from Valentine's beaten body.

Spencer pays no attention to who pulled him off of Valentine because he sees you still laying still on the floor next to him. Your eyes are closed and he sees bruising begin to form on your throat.

"No, no come on. Come on baby. Come on." Spencer says as he kneels by your side. His bloody knuckles sting but his chest hurts worse, seized with anxiety and fear because you're not waking up. And those bruises are becoming way too dark way too quickly.

Spencer feels for your pulse on your neck, below your jaw. There's a pulse. But it's faint. Too faint.

"We need a medic. We need a medic right now." Spencer rushes his words as he tilts your head back to allow for maximum airflow into your lungs.

He faintly hears commotion behind him but all he can see is you. And he can hear are your shallow breaths.

Pure, genuine fear paralyzes Spencer.

———

"Derek, stay with him. Don't let him get to Valentine just yet. We're going to do pull some overtime today and get everything sorted. I'll keep you updated. Let me know how she's doing and how Spencer's doing." Hotch speaks authoritatively before hanging up the phone.

He sets the phone on the table and looks at the rest of his team, who have assembled at the round table. He sees their faces full of fear and guilt. And he knows that the team will collectively have to go through the process of acceptance, but not now. Not when there's work to do.

He sees your face in his mind and it launches him into action.

"Penelope. I'm going to need every bit of his equipment seized and searched. I'm talking in his office and at his residence. Document everything." He looks pointedly at Penelope, who eagerly nods her head.

"On it, sir." She affirms and he moves on to his next task.

"JJ, Emily, I need you to document every other piece of physical evidence from her residence and his. Construct a timeline of events. Try to pinpoint what caused this." The women look to each other before nodding. Hotch then looks to Rossi, who's been staring at the table the entire time.

"And Dave, you'll work with me to strategize questioning." Rossi looks up from the table and gives one concise nod.

Content with everyone's willingness to do overtime for your case, he dismisses them. Hotch waits for everyone to leave before addressing Rossi again.

"What are you thinking?" He asks, and Rossi scrunches his eyebrows together before meeting Hotch's gaze. There's a sadness residing in his eyes.

"I just can't believe it took us so long to take it seriously. I mean really, we see these cases all the time but when it comes to one of our own? We completely dropped the ball. And now she's in the hospital. We're supposed to be the most capable team, but we can't even protect our own." He articulates slowly so the point isn't lost on Hotch.

"We never could've known it would escalate this quickly." Hotch says, taking a seat across from Dave, who shakes his head.

"But we could have. The signs were all there. The flowers, the altering of footage. There were indicators present." Hotch is lost for words as the reality of the situation truly sinks in.

Hotch sighs and looks down at his hands that are folded on the table.

"You're right. We should've seen this before it even happened. But it did, and now we have to make sure Valentine never sees the light of day again." Hotch says, hoping that by seeking justice is makes up for a lack of action.

"Yeah we'll lock him away. But do you think she's going to come back? I mean after all this, how could she trust us again?" Rossi asks, exasperation replacing the sadness.

"I don't know." Hotch answers truthfully. He knows that when you recover and are released from the hospital that there's some chance you'll retire from the team. And he couldn't blame you.

"And the kid. You saw how much she means to him. I've never seen him act like that before. During any of it. You saw that picture too, and you saw how he shot through that door, you know exactly what I mean." Rossi says and stands from the table. Hotch rises as well, and he nods.

"I know Dave." Is all he can come up with. Rossi claps a hand on Hotch's shoulder.

"Just have to take this one day at a time." Rossi says before leaving the room, leaving Hotch alone.

Rossi's words repeat in Hotch's mind. What if you decide to not come back? Do you blame the team for what happened? Will Spencer blame the team? Will he leave too? Will you be okay? Will they be able to ensure Valentine's life sentence?

Question after question swirls in his mind until it becomes overwhelming. He closes his eyes and clenches his fists in frustration. He can't help but to blame himself for the team's lack of action. After all, he knew weird things were happening and there was more he could've done sooner that might've prevented this from ever happening.

And he knows the truth, the truth is that Spencer is the only one who took you seriously from the very beginning. And it's because of that bond the two of you share that Hotch knows deep down, that if you leave then Spencer will leave too. Maybe not right away, but soon after.

Hotch can see clear as day that you two love each other deeply. And he knows that Spencer is not prepared to lose you. Not to Valentine and certainly not to this job.

But he has no control over your decision. And he shouldn't stress about things that are out of his control. So instead, he walks out of the room and begins to stress about things he can control, like the compilation of evidence against Valentine.

And so he joins the team and gets to work.

———

Your mind is alive before you can even muster the strength to open your eyes. You hear squeaking shoes on tiled floors, the beep of a monitor somewhere near your head. Whispered voices come and go. But you can't seem to focus on one thing at a time, the sounds blur together.

And you don't know how long you're suspended in this state of mind. All you know is that your eyes are heavy and your throat burns. But you can't move to get a drink, you can't even open your eyes no matter how hard you try.

So you succumb to sleep once again.

And then you awake once more, much like the last time. But now you hear voices and they're closer. They sound like they're near the beeping machine behind you. The tone and cadence sound familiar but you can't make out their words.

You feel trapped within your own body and you begin to panic because you can't open your eyes. You're here and you're awake but you can't open your eyes and you can't move.

You hear the beeping sound behind you grow louder and the voices you heard are now gone, replaced with squeaking shoes against tile. And before you know it you feel people's hands on your arms and on your forehead. It feels like they're trying to soothe you, and it's working.

The beeping behind you calms and voices are heard once more. And this time, you try your hardest to listen in. You really want to know who's here and what they're saying. 

"Hotch wants updates on her. I'm going to give him a call. Will you be okay here for a while?" A deep voice says. 

"Yeah, yeah I'll be fine." Another voice says, and this one you recognize. You'd recognize his voice anywhere, that's Spencer. You feel his hand on yours and you desperately try to open your eyes, but you can't, you're still stuck.

"I think you can hear me. At least I hope you can." Spencer talks again, his hand gently squeezing yours. You hear him sigh before continuing, 

"I want you to know that we got him. We got him and he's never going to hurt you again. I'm so, so sorry that I wasn't there to protect you. I should've been there. I should've seen the signs that we were being set up but instead I was blinded. I was so focused on catching him that I didn't slow down and think rationally about it. I am so sorry." He raises your hand and places a delicate kiss to the back of it. And you feel something wet drip onto your skin too. 

His words make your heart ache and you want to open your eyes and let him know that none of this is his fault. He shouldn't blame himself one bit. You hear him sniffle and it ignites a fire of determination within you. With all your might, you try to at least wiggle your fingers. You just need to show him that you hear him. 

And so with all of your might and strength you can muster, you feel the tips of your fingers twitch. And then you do it again. You hear Spencer take a sharp inhale and you know that you're message reached him. He knows. 

"Do that again if you can hear me." He whispers. And so you try your best to do it again. 

It must've worked because the next thing you feel is Spencer's lips on your forehead. The feeling of his hand holding yours and his lips on your skin sends a warm sensation through your body. And you hear the monitor beep louder again. 

But then the moment is interrupted as someone enters the room, apparent from the sound of their shoes. 

"Pretty boy I think she likes you too, look at that heart rate." The voice is undeniably Derek's. His voice is clearer now and you know that nobody else calls Spencer "Pretty Boy". 

"What did the doctors say?" Spencer asks him. 

"They said it shouldn't be too much longer. Her vitals have stabilized." Derek answers. 

The room falls back into a silence, the only sound to be heard is the monitor behind you. Spencer's hand stays on yours and you feel yourself being lulled back into sleep by the rhythmic monitor.

———

Spencer looks down at your sleeping face and wishes there was something he could do to nurse you back to health in an instant. He thinks it's his fault you're laying in this bed in the first place. Out of everyone on the team, he should've been able to see that Valentine was setting everyone up. That was his hail Mary; to get everyone out of the office on a goose chase so that he could get to you. 

And Spencer knows that if the team had arrived even one minute later that there may not have been a chance to save you. It's a miracle you're alive, even more of a miracle that your hyoid bone didn't break or that nothing internally was severely damaged. The deep bruises were superficial the doctors had said. 

Spencer isn't sure how long he's been standing by your bedside with your small hand enveloped in his. And truthfully, he doesn't care. He would stand there for an eternity if it meant you would be okay. 

"Hotch just texted. They're planning to question him tomorrow, time constraints of the arrest and all." Derek says, showing Spencer the screen. 

With a sigh, Spencer knows that questioning Valentine tomorrow is cutting it close. The team will be strapped for time trying to piece everything together without him there. But he can't fathom the thought of leaving you, not now. 

"They'll be able to pull it off." Spencer says, less than confident that everything will be concisely and plainly compiled. 

"Spencer, we both know that you know exactly what happened, beat for beat. They need you back there. She's okay. I'll stay here with her. You go help the team secure the arrest." Derek says, walking over and putting a hand on Spencer's shoulder. 

Spencer looks back at your peaceful face littered in dark blue bruises and it makes his stomach turn. While he would rather pull his own teeth than leave you here, he knows that he can leave no room for error when it comes to Valentine. And he knows that besides you, he's the only one who knows the depth of everything that happened. His eyes drift from you to Derek and he sighs.

"I'll go help them. But if anything changes here, let me know right away." Spencer lets go of your hand and forces himself to walk away. 

"I will." Derek answers as Spencer exits the room and heads back to the office. Each step he takes he feels like high-force winds are pushing against him, making it difficult to keep going forward. 

When he arrives at the office, everyone regards him quietly. There's a tension between him and the team, one that likely won't go addressed until this is all over with. But Spencer knows it's about that picture, about him shooting the door, about him crying as the EMTs took your body away in an ambulance. 

But he can't afford to dwell on that, not now. He pushes his sleeves to his elbows and finds Hotch, ready to get to work and do it quickly. There's no room for error here.

———

You hear the beeping monitor again and feel the blankets had been pulled up higher on your body. You don't even remember going back to sleep. But you do remember that Spencer is here. But you don't feel his hand on yours anymore, his warmth is gone. 

Panicking slightly, you wonder where he is and what happened. Is he okay? The monitor picks up frequency and you feel someone touch your arm. But it's not Spencer, no the skin is too rough, the fingers too big.

"Hey, hey it's me. I'm here and you're okay." Derek says to you. 

And you're thankful he's here but you need to know where Spencer is, you need to know he's not in trouble. What if Valentine got to him? What if Valentine has his hands wrapped around Spencer's throat, draining the life from him slowly? The thought of Valentine hurting Spencer like he hurt you sends a rush of adrenaline so severe through you, that you think for a split second you had been struck by lightning. 

Suddenly, the room isn't dark anymore. No, it's blindingly bright. The white light burns. But eventually, it calms into something more manageable. And then you see Derek standing right next to you, his mouth open, his eyes full of worry and then joy. 

"I knew you could do it. I knew you could." He says and smiles. 

You go to say something but your throat burns and is too dry so instead you end up choking and coughing. 

"Here, here you go." Derek holds a cup of water to your lips. Your shaky hands land atop of his and you help him tip the cup so you can get a drink. Every swallow feels like you're consuming liquid sandpaper. 

"Spencer." You whisper, trying to ignore the sharp, stinging pain. 

"He's okay. He left a few hours ago to help the others." Derek says, pulling a chair over to your bedside. You make eye contact with him.

"Valentine?" You ask, needing to know if he's still in custody. 

"We got him. Spencer's filling in the others about what happened. He's never going to see the light of day again for what he did to you." Derek says and you can hear the clear conviction in his voice. 

There's a tiny part of you that becomes angry at his words. If they had believed you sooner, this wouldn't have happened. But instead they chose to believe you were fabricating evidence to make yourself look better. And for what? To gain clout over a case that happened months ago? To make yourself look better overall? To prove you're just as good as the rest?

You opt to say nothing back. Because one, your throat feels like it's made of molten lava, and two, because you really can't find anything positive to say to him. You almost died because they didn't believe you were in any real danger, not until it was too late. 

Staring down at the water cup in your hands, you wonder if you can go back to the team after this. Would you be able to trust them and rely on them in the field? Would they take you more seriously? Would they treat you the same? Or would their guilt cause them to treat you differently? 

There's too many questions racing through your head and you feel a headache coming on. You wish Spencer was the one who stayed with you, but you know that he's the best equipped in briefing the team. But then again, so are you. 

"When can I leave?" You ask Derek. 

"I'll go find someone and ask." He offers a tight smile and leaves the room. 

If you can get out of here then you can find your way back to Spencer. You would be able to help the team, maybe for the last time. 

———

"Are you sure that you're well enough for this?" Hotch asks you with crossed arms. You give him a nod, knowing that you're more than capable of doing this. 

Hotch simply nods and looks down at the folder in his hand. You stare through the one-way glass at the man who tried to kill you. He's sitting there, chained to the table, looking like a pathetic coward. All of his confidence he had when he was strangling you had been washed away, revealing his true self; an insecure excuse of a man. 

You hear someone else walk in behind you and turn to see Spencer. His hair is disheveled and the stubble on his jaw is prominent, evidence of his lack of sleep. You meet him halfway and he welcomes you into his arms. He holds you like he may never again, his arms wrapped around you securely. 

Hotch is obviously ignoring what you two are doing and is immersing himself in the file folder that you helped them complete yesterday. 

The hospital staff had been reluctant to let you go, but you were determined to get out of there. You pushed through the pain and told them that because your injuries are superficial, that there's no reason to stay any longer. And sure, they tried to persuade you to get more imaging done, but you denied. All you cared about was getting back to Spencer. 

"Are you ready for this?" You ask him, your voice weak and scratchy. Spencer's jaw tightens and he nods, looking through the glass. 

"More than ready." His tone is flat and you know that he's trying to get himself into the right mindset. 

Hotch didn't want to let Spencer participate in the questioning, but Spencer was unrelenting. Spencer told Hotch that Valentine has a personal prejudice against him and that they could use his anger against him. And Spencer was banking on the fact that Valentine hates him to secure an airtight confession. And eventually, Hotch agreed once he saw that Spencer could control his own anger. 

"Spencer." Hotch says, causing the two of you to step away from one another. 

"I'm ready." Spencer answers, face void of emotion. Hotch nods and you watch as they step into the interrogation room together. You take a seat on the other side of the glass and feel your heart beat heavily, anxious for what's about to happen.

Hotch and Spencer take their seats opposite of Valentine and you see Valentine's eyes lock onto Spencer immediately with malice. You lean forward in your seat. 

"You've been read your charges and your rights, do you understand them?" Hotch begins the questioning. Valentine nods, 

"I do." And you know that's the all clear needed to dig into the interrogation. 

Hotch lays out the altered documents on the table, taking his time to spread them out. Valentine looks over each paper, his eyes scanning over the words. He says nothing. 

"These are documents you altered under the credentials of another agent." Hotch states, not breaking eye contact. He doesn't frame it as a question, because if it's presented as a known statement, it gives further incentive for someone to want to defend themselves and provide alternate facts. 

"How do you know she wasn't the one to make those changes herself?" Valentine asks and a small smirk breaks out across your face. He just admitted that he knew the credentials used belonged to a woman and that there were in fact changes made. 

"We know because I personally review each and every one of her case reports. Hers are not nearly as detailed as these, and there are phrasings included that are not conducive to our report writing policy." Hotch fires back flawlessly. You see Valentine clench his hands on the table; he's getting flustered. 

"And in addition to these documents, you were able to spoof credentials to make entry into our office and retag evidence and alter the footage." Hotch says, his tone indicative of being impressed. This is to build Valentine's confidence back up and stroke his ego. When people are overly confident in their abilities, they tend to slip up more by trying to prove themselves. 

"You can't prove that." Valentine resists. Hotch takes a moment before responding. 

"You chose to wait until the cameras were being replaced to send the flowers. You wanted to remain anonymous. You wanted her to work as hard for you as you were working for her. So you used your knowledge and expertise to your advantage." Hotch says, trying to further inflate Valentine's self confidence. 

"She just needed to see the lengths I would go for her." Valentine slips up again. 

"And you didn't stop there to show her that did you? You orchestrated a false cellphone ping at an abandoned location so the rest of the team would go there and leave her in the office. You knew we wouldn't bring her along, so you created an opportunity for yourself." Hotch doubles down again, knowing that Valentine can't help but to brag about his perceived accomplishments. 

"It wasn't that hard. I knew with him around I wouldn't have another chance. So I did what I had to do." Valentine glares at Spencer as he speaks. 

And you know this signals for Spencer to take over the questioning. They've got under his skin, they've got him flustered, and they've got him overly confident. Valentine has so much conflicting thoughts in his head right now that he likely can't think straight or have the foresight to see what's happening. 

"And you hated seeing her with me so much that you entered her home and placed a camera." Spencer states. Valentine crosses his arms. Spencer licks his lips and leans forward, continuing his approach. 

"But before that you entered her home while she wasn't there and took her sweater. That was a shame, that was my favorite one she wore." Spencer then leaned back and sighed, acting as if he could only think of you in that sweater in that moment. 

Valentine's fists clench on the tabletop once more, the vein in his neck starts bulging. He's close to cracking and losing it all. And it's all being done in record time. No matter how smart Valentine thinks he is, the BAU is smarter. 

"You don't deserve to have her like that." Valentine growls through gnashing teeth. Spencer tilts his head to the side. 

"Have her like what?" Spencer provokes him further. Valentine takes a measured breath. 

"You were in her room, I saw you. You were in her house and you had your hands on her. I just needed a small part of her." Valentine now starts to sound unhinged. His voice rises in volume, and Spencer keeps pressing on. He stands from his seat and leans forward on the table. 

"I was there because she wanted me there. In fact she begged for me. It was nice of you to send her those flowers, it just made it more easy for me to take credit for it all." Spencer makes eye contact with Valentine, and refuses to get back into his seat, instead opting to stay leaned forward. Valentine's face is red, his veins popping, his jaw tight and his teeth clenched. 

"Those were for her to see how much she means to me. You couldn't let me have that, you couldn't even let me speak to her that night at the bar. You put those curtains up so I couldn't see her anymore. No you took her all for yourself. What was I supposed to do? I couldn't sit around and do nothing while you got every part of her to yourself. I tried to forgive her, I really did. But she wasn't grateful for what I was doing for her. I was trying to give her the credit she's due and the love she deserves. I did it all for her! And you just swooped in and took it all for your fucking self!" Valentine screams in one breath. His chest is heaving and his face is as red as a tomato.

And after a minute of silence, Spencer stands back to his full height. 

"Thank you." He says and walks out of the room without another word. But Hotch stays. 

Once Spencer walks out Valentine loses his composure again. But Hotch is there for more, they're going to take everything they can get from him. 

"And what were your plans for the photos in your basement?" Hotch's voice starkly contrasts Valentine's delirium. 

"Those were for myself. I needed to see her any time I wanted. But I had to cut him out of the picture." He answers, glaring at Hotch. 

"And so you loved her that much that you were willing to kill her?" Hotch's voice is soft. This causes Valentine to look down at the table where he stares at his hands. 

"I didn't want to. But I couldn't live knowing he was with her. If she were to die I would've killed myself right after, so that we could be together in another life." Valentine answers and it sends a chill through your body. 

"And how did you plan to kill her and yourself?" Hotch's head tilts to the side.

"I brought the knives. I wasn't going to cut her skin with those blades, I would never. But once she was gone I was going to stab myself in the neck." He answers casually, as if Hotch had asked him about the weather. 

"I see." Hotch closes the folder and stares at Valentine. You had one request of Hotch, and you know he's about to fulfill it. 

"Well, you succeeded in one step of that plan." Hotch prefaces, piquing Valentine's interest once again. 

"What do you mean?" Valentine asks, eyes wide. 

"I mean you were successful in strangling her. She passed away hours after she was transported to the hospital." Hotch tells him. 

Valentine lets out a loud sob and hits the table with his fists over and over again. 

"No! No I couldn't have! No!" He screams until his face begins to turn purple. Hotch then stands from his seat and adjusts his tie, unphased by the drama of Valentine.

"Thank you for your time." He says without emotion and walks out of the room to join you and Spencer.

Valentine carries on with his screaming and crying, the three of you watch him from the other side. But you can only look for so long before it starts disturbing you. 

You stand from your seat and leave, content with how things ended. Valentine will live the rest of his days thinking you're dead. And that's exactly how you wanted it to be. 

———

Rain drops pelt your window and thunder rolls above in the sky. Your apartment is empty and the sounds echo off the walls. It had taken you about two weeks to get everything packed up and moved out. It would've taken longer, but you had some wonderful help. 

Spencer enters the empty apartment, his hair wet from the rain outside. He sighs as he stands beside you, taking in the emptiness. It's odd to see your apartment like this, but you know it's necessary if you want to move on with your life. You couldn't stay here any more, all you could think about was Valentine. And if you're dead to him, you want him to be dead to you as well. 

Valentine had been sentenced to two consecutive life sentences without the possibility of parole. Hotch had some connections to the judge and was able to secure the maximum sentence. And for that you're grateful. 

"You ready?" Spencer asks you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. 

You take one last look around the empty apartment and remember the good times shared here. The happiness you felt when you first moved in, the giddiness of Spencer staying over, and how you two made this like your own haven for a short while. Some of those memories stay untainted, but the most recent ones leave a sour taste in your mouth. And you don't want your memories with Spencer to be distorted any more. 

"I'm ready." You answer and the two of you leave. You hear the door click shut behind you and you keep moving forward, refusing to look back. 

The two of you arrive at Spencer's apartment about ten minutes later. Or, you should say you arrived at the apartment you now share with Spencer ten minutes later. He opens the door for you and you smile, feeling over the moon. 

Your furniture now complements his, your photos hang on the wall next to his, and your clothes now occupy the space beside his. The two of you had made this your sanctuary, your own personal utopia where you two blend perfectly with one another. 

Every night you're able to fall asleep in his arms and wake to his perfect face every morning. You still love the way his eyes squint when he first wakes up and how he insists that you make pancakes every Saturday morning. 

There's no pressure or threat looming over the two of you any more and you're able to grow closer and closer naturally and without stress. Truthfully, you had never loved anyone like you love Spencer. The love you have for him is rooted deep within your soul and blooms higher and higher each and every day. 

The two of you sit on the couch together, Spencer's leaned up against the arm and you've fitted yourself between his legs, leaning your head back on his chest. His arms wrap around you and you sigh, feeling nothing but pure peace and contentment.

After Valentine was sentenced and everything started going back to normal, you and Spencer had discussed what the future held. You had told him the truth, that you didn't want a future without him in it, you didn't want to live in a world without him in your life. And thankfully, he felt the same way. 

You took an extended leave of absence from the team, just until you figure out if you want to go back or not. Spencer supports your decision either way. But you can't seem to make up your mind. Hotch had given you all the time you need, and you're taking full advantage of it. Spencer had taken a month off as well, the two of you using this time to focus on nothing but each other. 

You tilt your head back and look up at him through your lashes and he smiles down at you. 

"Hi there pretty girl." His smile widens, revealing his perfect teeth. Adoration fills your heart. 

"I love you." You tell him, and he leans down and kisses your forehead gently. 

"And I love you more, much more than you could ever know, with all my heart." He answers and hugs you tightly to his body. 

You melt into his touch and take in his intoxicating smell. You'll never get over the way he holds you, the way his hands map out every curve of your body, how his kisses you like his life depends on it. How he looks at you as if you had personally painted the night sky.

And now you know that love is an obsession that can quickly spiral into something all consuming. 

But this love is tender, this love is kind. This love you and Spencer share is pure and true. And you will happily live with this love for the rest of your days. 

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

taglist: @yondiii@juhdoche@themarauderseraslut@shardsofmarxx@mel-vaz @bippityboppityboob1tch @babyspiderling @honestlyloving @emisback @thatredlipped-classic @desperately-seeking-serotonin @threespacemonkeys @small-and-violent @ropickle @honestlybabymiracle @hiireadstuff @suckstobrlaurie @random000000sblog @mynameiskelly @emma-e-a @pleasantwitchgarden @your-favorite-god @gghostwriter @all2unwell24 @haleyshue97 @placidus

[doberbutts]

Genuine question: What do you think of the argument that very white-passing folks — even if they have black parents, grandparents, etc. — cannot call themselves black?

Personally I think whether or not you're black depends on your actual lived reality. My nephew is white passing. He's from the sister who is about the same tone as me, just a little lighter, and the same racial mixture of Irish and afronative, and his very German father. He's got white skin and blonde hair and blue eyes and genuinely if you didn't know that little boy was technically black you would not guess it.

However. He lives with his visibly black mother, his visibly black sister (same racial mix as him, she just got the darker genes), and their visibly black stepfather and visibly black stepsiblings. He's the odd man out, the lightest of the group, and the one that looks like he doesn't belong. And, when you see him next to his family... suddenly the white skin and blonde hair and blue eyes don't cut it for determining his whiteness, because you start to notice that he shares a whole lot of features with the darker skinned members of his family.

Like me, he's put his foot down about his blackness. If asked at school why he's white but his family is black, he will outright state that he's mixed race and that he is actually black and white just like his sister and mother. He's not wrong. He IS black and white and no small part Native, though I think the complexity of the last part is hard for him to grasp at his elementary school level understanding of race politics.

But what is his reality? Well, when he's with his white father, or my white (passing) mother, he's white. Until he opens his mouth to defend his sister or his mother or a friend of his from racism, at which point said racist's eyes laser-focus on every minute detail of his face to pick out the non-European features covered in pale skin.

This is honestly pretty similar to how a Jewish friend of mine describes her experience, how she is white until she opens her mouth to say something positive about Judiasm or negative about antisemitism, at which point every possible Jewish feature on her face comes under intense scrutiny and her white status is revoked immediately. It's also why I'm always on this "antisemitism 🤝 antiblackness" thing.

I also have a Hungarian friend who is equally peeved at the flattening of racial nuance, as he and his family consider themselves mixed race and Eurasian and not just white, however he has had equal amount of people hurting him for his more blatantly Asian features as he's had people telling him he never experiences racism because he's a white European. Similarly, his reality is that he's white until he says something that doesn't align with white supremacy's rules on white opinion and white behavior, at which point every single Asian feature he has is used as punishment against him.

It's not to say that my nephew, my Jewish friend, or my Hungarian friend don't benefit from their perceived whiteness. They do, in fact! My nephew again is a bit young to have this conversation, but my friends have also discussed with me how they have seen that perception occasionally give them a boost as they move through life. And how, if they would want to keep that boost, they'd have to lean into the concept of whiteness and erase a significant portion of their identities in the process.

This is also spoken about at length by Natives forced to assimilate and intermarry with white people to "breed out the savage", as it were. And I know of lightskinned, though imo not white passing, black people who have discussed the same thing. This even is discussed by people in the Irish, Italian, Greek, and Polish diaspora here in the US- how their current status of "white" came at the cost of not only erasing huge portions of their own culture and history but also practically requires them to lean into white supremacy in order to continue to reap the benefits of white privilege, and how the cost is so much higher than the gain especially when you understand that it doesn't work. You can be One Of The Good Ones all you like and someone dedicated to racism is still going to hate you even once you've gotten rid of all the obvious poc.

To put it simply, these aren't new conversations and I'm never going to be anywhere remotely close to "white-passing" so it's sort of a moot point for me. It's not my reality. But I think listening to those who have lived it is better for gaining a more solid understanding. I don't think that my nephew is wrong to call himself black or mixed black. It's technically true, he came out of a black woman. I also think he is going to have a very different life from his sister, from his mother, from his stepfather and stepsiblings, from his black extended family.

I think rejection from the black community would only hurt him, because he is growing up surrounded by black people in a black family learning black culture, so someone telling him that he shares the same features and DNA but his skin is too light to find community there is just hurtful. Who does it help? Who does it protect? To tell a little kid that he can't call himself part of his own family?

[phantomposting]

Another addition to the Goulish Laughter AU promt

Writing this a bit sleep deprived so sorry for any misspellings or poor Grammer. I just couldn't let myself sleep until I itched this very specific itch! If you haven't read the original prompt you can find it here! And I really hope those who enjoyed the prompt enjoy this little tidbit :D

TW: BLOOD, GORE, CANNIBALISM, STARVATION, SELF HATERED.

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The night was cold as ice and hunger knawed so incessantly at his stomach. Danny was having a hard time ever since he got back into the Joker's clutches. The man was not remotely forgiving of the accidental panicked flight response he had found himself having when face to face with his brother. Joker had even considered it a betrayal and had deemed his punishment for such to be starvation. No meat until his say so. Danny was losing count of the days as the unrelenting hunger ripped at his stomach.

Sure it wasn't easy to kill him Joker knew that through many trial and errors but if he didn't eat something soon. Well... let's just say he wasn't sure what would happen. Alas he truly had no say in the matter. All he could do was hope that Joker wouldn't try to rub it in his face again.

He also found himself desperately begging the Ancients that he should not see his brother again. Danny knew it would be far too great of a risk to Damian to let him anywhere near Danny. He wasn't sure if he could keep what little grasp he had of his sanity if he did anything to hurt his brother. Yet part of him begged and knawed at his mind to know what his brother's soft young flesh tasted of. Just the thought had him drooling.

Danny found himself soon pulled out of his hazy hunger laced thoughts as cackling filled his mind. "Why don't you look famished. Have you finally learned your lesson ghoul?" The clown grinned over him. The scent of blood in the air only making his stomach ache worse.

"Now now don't look so glum. I figured it was about time I've brought you a snack." The man grinned as he held up a struggling teen gagged and bound. The look of panic in the boys eyes mad Danny's skin crawl.

"Come on you and I both know you want a taste." Joker grinned readying it to cut the dark haired teens cheek. The teens sky blue eyes laser focused on the knife looking as if they were going through a million different scenarios a minute. Danny knew no matter how he felt about hurting the fancily dressed teen it would go out the window as soon as Joker drew blood. There was no grasping at the straws of his humanity with this level of hunger.

He tried to shake the memories of Sam from his mind before he could completely lose himself. Her blood on his claws. Her flesh as soft and tender as a rare steak. The squelching and crunches of meat and bones. He felt sick just thinking of it.

The quick movement of Joker pulled him out causing Danny to flinch. The scent of blood fresh blood filled his mind as when world blurred around him. A cacophony of crunching and squelches followed suit.

The next thing he knew the teen captive was backed against a wall dread in his eyes. He looked as if he were going to be sick. The Joker a sickly pile of viscera and bone within his claws. The man's vile blood coating his teeth and drenching his shirt.

Batman and Robin had arrived minutes too late. Purple fabric was strewn about around the sickly stick of a child. A pile of minced gore and bone infront of him. Meat in his hands and blood on his teeth. The two couldn't even bring themselves to move in towards the sickening scene to apprehend him.

Ice blue eyes locked on the two heroes after a moment. The small form of the boy released a feeble chuckle as he grinned up at them tears rolling down his pale corpse like cheeks. "I don't say I regret it, but honestly, he tasted a little funny." Needless to say nobody dares to respond.

[fogwitchoftheevermore]

very very intrigued by the snippet

what's your esmp s1 superhero au like?

YAY thank you for asking!!

So, there's a lot going on in this AU and I'm kinda using this as a chance to do a master post, so I'm gonna throw everything under the cut. I'm also not gonna get into the full nitty gritty of the plot (HI FUTURE SPACE THIS WAS KIND OF A LIE), just because it is a lot but I will give you the broad strokes of how we cover the plot of Empires!

First things first, let's get to know our heroes/vigilantes/etc.!

The Wither Rose Alliance: A group of vigilantes who have all known each other since childhood.

Gem, code name Sorceress. Gem was born with powers kinda similar to a Green Lantern, where she can create light with a physicality to it. She channels this light through a staff (primarily for aesthetics) and uses it either as projectile weapons or shields the majority of the time, but can use it for whatever she wants. She also has wings by the time our story starts, which were built by Fwhip. Gem and Fwhip are siblings, but when Gem developed powers in her early teens she became terrified of being unable to control herself and drawing unwanted attention to her family or hurting them, so she ran away. She was taken in by ex-vigilante Aello (I'll explain them when we get to the plot) and has been in the business since she was about 16. Her and Fwhip reunited when they were adults and now vigilante together and with their childhood friends Sausage and Pearl. As of the time of the story, Gem is a student and also works at a local library.

Fwhip, code name the Mechanist. Fwhip does not have powers and instead makes his own wings and explosives to fight with. He initially got into the vigilante business because he knew that Sorceress was his sister and he needed a way to talk to her, but it turns out he's an adrenaline junkie and loves it. Fwhip is also a student and is a camp counselor at a summer camp as well (not like, the fun middle of the woods type summer camp, to be clear. One of those ones you find in the city where they bring you to local places for activities.)

Pearl, code name Valkyrie. Pearl has super strength and impenetrable skin. She was the last member of the WRA to get into vigilante-ing, partially because it took her a while to realize she had powers and not just like, particularly notable but still totally human abilities. And then it took Sausage almost getting himself killed one day for her to go "Oh god, these three need all the help they can get, don't they?" Turns out, she also loves it, because it's like the wrestling she does for fun but like... she's not gonna immediately win even she's already holding back because everyone she fights is still a normal person. She's getting opponents on her level here. Pearl works with local park services.

Sausage, code name Warlock. Sausage also does not have any powers. He uses a staff (that Fwhip made him) that basically imitates Gem's powers, meaning it's pretty much a funny looking laser gun. After finding out that Fwhip was a vigilante, Sausage convinced Fwhip to cut him in on the whole thing and they've been partners ever since. Sausage works at the same summer camp as Fwhip, I have yet to decide what he does the rest of the year.

The Codvengers: A rival group of vigilantes who are literally only rivals with the WRA cause the vibes were bad.

Jimmy, code name The Codfather. Jimmy has super strength (which he uses more defensively, unlike Pearl) and can breathe underwater (it's genetic). The Codfather Mask is a magic family heirloom type thing that magnifies Jimmy's powers. Without it on or near his person, he can't breathe underwater and his strength is significantly lesser. Jimmy and Lizzie's parents died when they were very young and they were separated through the foster system. Jimmy managed to hold onto his family heirloom, while Lizzie did not. He now works at the local public pool, which just so happens to be the one the summer camp Fwhip and Sausage work for take the kids to. They are nightmares to him in all facets of his life.

Lizzie, code name Ocean Queen. Lizzie's powers allow her to shapeshift into her full ocean queen form (10 feet tall, blue, gills, big tail, sharp nails, sharp teeth, armored scales). Without the Ocean Orb, her own magic family heirloom thing, Lizzie can still grow the claws, teeth, scales, and gills, but nothing else. She doesn't recover the orb until the story is already in motion, but that whole plotline happens a lot earlier than it does in canon (mostly because things pick up way too much in the middle and end for me to not have her at full power, though I haven't decided exactly when.) Lizzie is Jimmy's coworker at the aforementioned pool.

Joel, code name Militia. Joel can manifest clones of himself that work as a hivemind. These clones don't live for too long (not more than an hour) and disappear when killed, but they are strong and will die for him. Joel works at a local art gallery and he and Lizzie are together but probably not married in this AU.

Pix, code name Phantom. Pix has a life drain power, the more he drains from someone else, the stronger he gets. He can kill people with this power, but never does (except for the one time. We'll come back to that.) Pix is a graveyard keeper cause it's on the nose.

And then our miscellaneous "not on a team" crew!

Katherine, code name Empress. Katherine has healing powers as well as plant manipulation. She can move plants to make them do whatever she wants and grow them at extreme speeds. Katherine works at the Sunflower Café, a local haven for superheroes, vigilantes, and villains of all kinds where they all agree to not start swinging on each other (mostly cause they're all in civies). This also means Katherine has gleaned everyone's secret identities and just hasn't mentioned it to them. Katherine is technically a government sponsored hero, but she hangs out with vigilantes a bit too much for the government to be her biggest fans.

Shrub, code name Wolf Spirit. Shrub can talk to plants and animals and also has a pack of wolves who hang out with her all the time. Do NOT worry about how she hides them from her city landlord, I did not think about it that hard. Shrub is an investigative journalist who also volunteers at the local animal shelter. Shrub is a vigilante.

Joey, code name Alexandros (this is open to change, though, I'll be honest). Joey has the basic elemental powers (fire, earth, air, water) but can only utilize elements already around him. Admittedly, this is not that much of a drawback, it just means he doesn't get to show off the fire that often. Joey is a photographer and one of Shrub's coworkers. Joey is an anti-hero vigilante for a lot of the time, the rest of it he's a villain.

Scott, code name Fractal. Scott has ice powers. I don't know what you wanted me to say. I also gave Scott a coffee shop job (different one than Katherine though) mostly because I think the image of him as a kinda bitchy barista is fun. He's also the only government sponsored hero who is actually into the government thing.

Xornoth, code name the Demon (not very creative, I know, but whatever). Xornoth has the power to give people hallucinations and can manifest and control the corruption tentacles we see in canon.

NOW! THE PLOT! THAT WAS A LOT SORRY!

The world of this AU is one where superheroes have existed for a long time. Our Emperors are the latest generation, and the last generation (made up of some OC characters, one of whom I mentioned above, who are here cause I really like them) shows up periodically. Notably, Aello (real name Pi, they/them, mostly human but has wings, ex-vigilante/villain), Refuge (real name Thorn, he/they/she, can make shields and punch good, one of the two owners of the Sunflower Café, ex-hero), and Snapdragon (real name Meringue, any pronouns, plant manipulation, ex-vigilante, other owner of the Sunflower Café and Thorn's spouse). Before them, however, there was a slightly older generation that featured Alinar and Cohnal. Alinar was a hero, Cohnal was a villain, both sponsored (and DNA manipulated to get their powers) by Aeor and Exor respectively.

Aeor and Exor used to run the aforementioned superhero division of the government together, but they eventually got into a massive blowup argument about their methods and morals that resulted in Exor splitting off to do his own thing, which was pretty much exactly what they were doing before but Illegal this time and less bogged down by rules. Exor began experimenting on normal humans to see if he could create an artificial superhero, thus creating Cohnal. This had been what the argument had been about, and Aeor's objections were a lot less moral and a lot more "there are rules about this", so when push comes to shove, Aeor's willing to use his government funds to do the same thing and create Alinar to fight fire with fire.

The experiments that gave Alinar and Cohnal their powers were... unstable, at best, and eventually killed the both of them. This was just the first trial, however, and as you might've guessed, Scott and Xornoth are our latest test tube babies. They were both volunteered for Exor's experiments as children and Aeor, upon finding out about this, said "I'm not letting my shit brother have two whole new lab rats" and grabbed Scott for himself. Scott spent the majority of his young life in a lab and has yet to figure out that his childhood was abnormal (this wasn't originally meant to be a metaphor for being raised in a cult but my friend who has given significant input (AND ART WHICH WILL BE AT THE BOTTOM OF THIS POST IF YOU'D LIKE A REWARD) for this AU has brought up the similarities enough that, well, yeah). Scott's only been a "normal" person and part of normal society for like, the last two years. Xornoth has never been apart of normal society and still lives in Exor's lab cause it's a lot harder to make your experiment child a fake identity if you yourself are wanted by the government.

By the time this story starts, Xornoth's done a lot of pretty fucked up shit. Notably, he's killed Shrub's parents because Shrub (who was still living with her parents at the time) was getting a bit too close to whistle blowing on Exor's work and she needed to be... taken care of. This near death experience is how Shrub unlocked her powers and what got her to move into the ambiguous city where the story takes place. Joey's also a new arrival in town, but that's for like, normal reasons.

Other notable events in the plot of empires! I'm gonna try and run through these ones as quick as possible (meaning no nice transitions) because this post is already a lot!

The Dragon: The Dragon is one of Exor's other experiments gone wildly wrong. The Dragon used to be a woman named Marigold who worked for Exor. She was suckered into participating in one of his experiments, but whatever "science" was done to give her powers had some very bad side effects. Marigold's powers are crazy powerful (dragon's breath, huge wings, some sort of magic storm that surrounds her person at all time) and she cannot control them. She's also not really in her right mind. Exor has kept her captive in his lab for a while but by the time the story starts, she's starting to become more of a liability than she's worth. Marigold also has a child named Violet who's being cared for in the lab because she's kinda a loose end, but Violet does not have powers (yet) and is not being experimented on.

Sausage and Joey Go Evil: Exor sees promise in these new vigilantes and heroes that Xornoth's been fighting ever since tracking Shrub to the city and has asked Xornoth to try and recruit some of them to their "cause". Not Fractal, though. Don't worry about why not Fractal, Xornoth. It's not important. Joey is suckered into this in the exact way that he is in canon. To be clear, Xornoth is not into him, but he's willing to lead him on a little bit at the start to get Joey to volunteer for the experiments to give him stronger and new powers (upon going through these experiments, Joey's powers become stronger and he also is able to control and create the corruption tentacles. Joey also changes his name after going fully villain, but this is the only name I have yet to come up with). Sausage is suckered in because he is wildly jealous of his friends who were born with powers and the promise of developing some of his own, rather than having to rely on Fwhip's creations and Gem and Pearl's support in fight. Sausage does not change his code name when he goes evil.

Scott and Xornoth Find Out They're Brothers: By the time this story starts, Xornoth has already begun to be suspicious of Exor and the lab and has been looking into what the fuck they did to him, where he came from, all that. When The Demon starts to cause problems for the vigilante/hero scene of the Ambiguous City, Gem, Katherine, and Scott start working together to investigate the guy's origins and all the things. With Shrub's intel, the three break into Exor's lab and manage to collect some records before getting chased out. Xornoth is suspiciously bad at his job when the three are caught, but that's probably nothing, right? (Xornoth knows Fractal is his brother but is still pretty deep in the brainwashing)

The Codfather Head: One day in the midst of their work rivalry, Fwhip and Sausage break into Jimmy's locker to mess with him somehow (they haven't thought that far ahead) and find the Codfather Mask in his bag. At first, they think he's a superfan or something, but upon further inspection, this thing is definitely real. They have no idea why Jimmy would have this, but Fwhip decides they should steal it. Upon finding out that the mask is missing, Jimmy freaks for obvious reasons. A few days later, Fwhip encounters the other three Codvengers, lacking a notable fourth member, and doesn't restrain from teasing and implying that he knows what happened to the mask. They get into a huge argument and Fwhip agrees to drop the Codfather Mask off in, like, a random abandoned parking lot after getting some sense talked into him about the situation.

The Dragon Fight: Around the same time, Exor decides that Marigold is taking up too many resources and decides he needs to be rid of her. Exor tells Xornoth, Joey, and Sausage that if they can kill her, the resources being used on her can start being redirected towards them, and Xornoth isn't wildly down (but isn't not down either) and Sausage and Joey are both up for it too. They try, but they fail, and Marigold gets an idea of what the situation is and breaks out of the lab, taking Violet with her. The Dragon, as the media starts calling her, is drawn to the presence of powerful magic items, which is a surprise tool that will help us in a few sentences. The local heroes and vigilantes quickly split into two camps: "we need to kill/incapacitate her because she is hurting people" (the Codvengers) and "we need to help her because she's clearly not in her right mind" (pretty much everyone else). Anyways, Fwhip leaves the Codfather Mask where he said he would, but he and the remaining WRA members decide to keep watch over it, because they don't really want it falling into the hands of some random civilian. Problem: The Dragon gets there first. This leads to a huge fight and well... you've watched Empires, you know how this fight goes. This also happens to be the only time Pix has used his life drain powers to fully kill someone, and this messes with him for a while (because he also absorbs a ton of Marigold's memories when she dies, and that's not great for the guy's mental state). In the wake of the fight, Gem finds Violet where she was hidden by Marigold when the fighting broke out and... panics. She panics harder when she tries to approach and Violet sends a magic bolt at her in her fear (Gem eventually calms her down but UH OH). Gem decides to take the kid in because she doesn't really know what else to do, but this also gets a target on her back.

Sausage Goes Good Again: Exor learns Gem has Violet and that Violet has powers and decides that he should probably deal with that. He tells Sausage that he needs to go take Violet back from Gem at any cost, heavily implying Gem needs to be killed. And look, Sausage has been willing to do a lot at this point, but this (combined with the events of the Dragon Fight making him reconsider his role in the whole thing) is too far. So, Sausage decides to do something drastic. He does break into Gem's apartment, as asked, but upon getting in there and getting into a fight with her, he communicates to her the general idea of "I do not want to do this and I need you to help me fake my death" through a lot of coded talk (because he's being bugged) and cocky "The only way to stop me is to kill me" boasting. Gem takes the hint and blasts him in the chest with her powers, simultaneously breaking the bug and stopping his heart briefly. It's fine, she manages to revive him (again with her powers, don't worry about how she makes them into a defibrillator). Gem panics and calls Katherine, because Katherine made a few too many jokes about knowing where to hide a body and Gem is wondering if she might know where to hide a live person. Great news, she does! Her bosses, Thorn and Meringue, are willing to house him in the apartment above the café. This safe house will come back later. After Exor is off Sausage's back (not because he's gone but because he has other, bigger problems now, which we're about to get to), Sausage returns to vigilante work under a new name, Scepter. He also stops utilizing the corruption tentacles that the experiments gave him because 1. it causes him pain to do so and 2. well, it's got bad vibes. He does, however, keep using the enhanced ability-to-withstand-a-hit (a power I know has a better name than that but I can't think of it) to make him into a bit of a tank to protect his friends.

Xornoth Gets Crystalized and Scott's Magic Goes Haywire: Okay, this plot line is like, wildly different than in canon. But basically, after everything calms the fuck down slightly, Gem, Katherine, and Scott find out the truth of what happened to Alinar and Cohnal and draw some reasonable conclusions about Scott and Xornoth. The three decide to straight up kidnap Xornoth to get him free from Exor's control. Good news, they don't really need to kidnap him, because he'd also decided to split around the same time. Xornoth also gets moved into the safe house above the Sunflower Café and man the dynamic up there must be fun. Not long after Xornoth is separated from Exor's lab, however, his powers start to go haywire and he starts to get extremely sick. After a lot of conversations about how insane Scott and Xornoth's childhoods were, they figure out that Scott and Xornoth have both been getting regularly given some sort of serum to keep their powers and their bodies stable for their entire lives, hence Xornoth's Bad Time. Thorn and Meringue contact an old friend to help reverse engineer the stuff, which stops Xornoth from being extremely sick but his powers are still hard to control. Scott also decides to split from Aeor at this point (which means he is ALSO in the safe house. This is around the point where Sausage moves out but again THE DYNAMIC IS CRAZY) and starts using the same serum to keep himself from keeling over, and Gem decides to try to help Scott get greater control over his powers. This is how the drabble from earlier happens! Gem manages to recover enough that she doesn't tell anyone about it for about a week but then she collapses for no real reason in Fwhip's apartment and he and Sausage make her tell them what happened. Gem goes to Katherine to get healed and once Scott emerges from the hole he's hiding in, Fwhip and Sausage beat him up in an alley for a bit until they feel better.

The Rapture: This is also a very different plot line than in canon, mostly because I don't want to decimate this city full of civilians. Basically, all of our heroes are together now (Joey going good again happened at some point but I haven't thought about that plot line too in depth) and are trying to expose Aeor and Exor to the public and also destroy all the tech and science they've been creating. There is a problem, however: Scott and Xornoth have been rogue for long enough that both Aeor and Exor have resorted to trying to modify themselves (because they know people are going to come for them eventually) and are now on par with The Dragon in terms of power, so this is now a big fight and a really bad one. In the fall out, Xornoth, Scott, Joey and Pearl (and maybe Lizzie? Undecided) are all particularly fucked up (like, they have to step away from being a hero entirely because Aeor or Exor gave them permanent breathing problems or chronic pain or whatever) whereas the rest of the crew still does the superhero stuff but not all of them stay for a long time (I think most of the Codvengers step away permanently not too long after) and it’s not like new supers aren’t being born everyday to take up the mantle, they’re not leaving everyone abandoned or anything. Hey, maybe Violet will become her own hero once she's not, like, 7!

OKAY WOW THAT WAS A LOT! Anyways, I promised you a few of my friend @pixlostinatos 's doodles for this AU if you stuck it out this long, so here they are!

Scott and Xornoth after getting out of their respective lab cults. Xornoth goes full goth and Scott dresses like a prep school boy who's never had to dress for himself before cause he's been wearing a uniform his whole life.

Thorn and Sausage talk about the whole "turning evil" thing once Sausage starts living above their place of business.

Scott arguing (mostly lightheartedly) with Katherine about "HOW COULD YOU NOT TELL US THAT YOUR BOSS WERE FAMOUS EX SUPERS SNAPDRAGON AND REFUGE AND ALSO THAT THEY WERE MARRIED AND ALSO THAT THEY KNEW ALL OUR SECRET IDENTITIES BECAUSE YOU KNEW ALL OUR SECRET IDENTITIES"

A 14-ish year old Gem talking to Pi and small doodles of gem and Fwhip in their civies.

[luxury-nightmare]

mom says it’s my turn on the writing

Alex had an idea. It was a bad idea on most levels, but it was a funny, so they decided to go through with it. They had picked up a laser pointer from a nearby drugstore, and were just about to head home.

Worst case scenario, they die at the hands of the worlds weirdest roommate. Clyde would sometimes act like a big cat, scratching up Alex’s furniture, purring very loudly whenever it was happy with something, and that one time that Alex missed work because Clyde decided that it wanted to lay on top of them to sleep.

So, Hypothetically, if they used the laser pointer, Clyde might chase it around like the world’s deadliest house cat.

They needed to see if this worked, for science of course.

Also because it would be really funny.

The closed the door behind them, Clyde flopped over on the couch like a murder victim. The demon looked over at Alex, before stretching and readjusting on the couch. Alex sat down next to the demon and rummaged through their pockets for the laser pointer.

“Human what are you doing?” Clyde asked, looking up at Alex as they fished the laser pointer out of their pockets. “Just testing something” they said, and turned on the laser pointer.

Alex looked over at Clyde, its eyes visibly dilated. It pounced onto the red spot, tail wagging like a cat. Alex stifled a giggle and moved the laser spot across the floor. Clyde sprinted behind the trail.

Alex chuckled. This was going to be a fun afternoon.

———————————————

“Human, what the fuck”

Clyde looked over at Alex, who was poorly hiding a laugh. The living room was a mess, with overturned stacks of books and knocked over furniture littering the floor. The red dot was nowhere to be found.

Alex didn’t even really care that their home looked like a tornado had ran through it, watching Clyde chase around a laser pointer like a cat had been worth it.

“Human why?” Clyde asked. Alex smiled.

“It was really funny”

———————————————

Clara had been digging around in the boxes Alex sent her. They couldn’t really go back to their old life, so they gave what little they had on them to her so she could start over. She needed to work on a new life after the asylum ripped her away from her old one. She was incredibly grateful to them for this, lord knows she needed any help she could get after getting out of that hellhole.

Something cold and metallic brushed past her fingers. She grasped the object, pulling the metal cylinder from the layers of clothes. She pulled a laser pointer out from the box and looked at it with a puzzled expression.

“Hey, Alex?” She asked. “Yeah?” Alex responded. They were trying to learn how to imitate their old voice. It was off enough to be noticeable, but close enough you could still recognize it. The velidgun turned to her with curiosity. “Why do you have a laser pointer?”

“Oh yeah” Alex responded, every eye they had looking at the laser pointer with fondness “I bought it at a drugstore back before I got kicked out. I wanted to see if Clyde would chase it.”

“And?”

“It did” they giggled at the memory “the house was a wreck after but it was funny as hell”.

Clara looked down at the laser pointer with curiosity. She had an idea, but wasn’t sure if she should follow through.

“Fuck it” she whispered to herself. “What did you say?” Alex asked, before cutting themself off the stare at the red dot now emitting from the laser pointer. Their tail wagged like a happy dog, and they pounced on the dot. Clara moved it across the floor, with Alex following it like a cat. Clara couldn’t stop herself from laughing as she moved the dot again.

Oh dear lord she knew what they meant by it being funny.

———————————————

Clyde snicked “not so funny to be on the other side of it, is it”

Alex looked at their partner with bitterness from the broken table they had crashed into “Shut up”

[abubblingcandle]

⭐ Send me a word/words and if I have it in a WIP I will sprint for 15mins on that project ⭐

Having fun with it mode:

Lasers

Confidential

Exuberant

Espionage

Parliament

Metastasize

Thanking you again! These ones were tough and I had to take some creative liberties and unfortunately give up on metastasize 😂😂

Once again under the cut:

Lasers - Dead Weight

Confidential - Fleuve Ch1

Exuberance - untitled Catherine Babysitter fic

Espionage - mangroves Ch2

Parliament - mangroves Ch1

Espionage - mangroves Ch2

“What weren’t you involved in?” Louisa frowned. “It doesn’t matter as I wasn’t involved in it,” any traces of light-heartedness had gone from within River. He was an agent giving a debrief. It was a switch. There was trained in espionage from birth River and loveable idiot River. Louisa wasn’t sure she liked trained in espionage from birth River. “No one outside of Slough House can know anything about this. If the Dogs or Taverner or anyone from five come looking then you don’t know anything. Also,” River paused, running his tongue over his top teeth. “Can you check in on my grandad? He’s, he’s not all there anymore and I’m losing him. I’m scared that he won’t understand why I’m not around,” River confessed. That admission seemed to have to be ripped out of him more than the confession that he was a murderer was. He absentmindedly picked at loose skin around his nails, running his fingers up and down the cup of cooling coffee in cycles of repetitive motion.

For that sprint I got 286 words!

Lasers - Dead Weight

The only thing that would make this more difficult would be if turrets suddenly descended from the ceiling with fucking lasers shooting at them. This was a Lady Di establishment; it honestly would not surprise her at this point if they did. But River was fucking heavy and although his wheezing far too shallow breathing was a reassuring tickle against her neck, she was sweating buckets and her head was pounding a macabre death march. Was this all for nothing? Was Sean, who was bringing up the rear in a hail of gunfire, right about how stupid this was? Louisa steeled herself and carried on dragging River forwards. It wouldn’t change anything even if the answers to those questions were both yes. River might die here. She might die here. But she was not going to be the one to give up on River Cartwright’s cockroach like ability to come out on top.

That sprint got me 302 words!!

Confidential - Fleuve Ch1

“What about the alias?” Catherine asked, pausing when everyone turned to look at her. “Well it’s old MI5 isn’t it? Surely even if it hasn’t been used they should have some record of it,” she suggested. “That isn’t actually a horrible idea,” Lamb mused, ignoring Catherine’s frustrated sigh in favour of jabbing again at Roddy’s screen. “Do that.” “You know it’s a lot more complicated than just pointing at and information magically appearing, don’t you?” Roddy tutted, turning back to face the screen. “Well yeah,” Lamb scoffed. “Why do you think I keep you around? It isn’t for your sparkling wit.” “While he’s doing that, what actually is the plan. I assume we can’t contact him?” Marcus asked. “In that down is a high level importer exporter that has got on the wrong side of some influential people. We assume that he’s in the region because of that individual. We try and find Young somewhere in association with it,” Lamb explained. “That’s a shit plan,” Shirley frowned. “You got a better one?” Shirley fell silent but she wasn’t wrong. It was a shit plan; they were going in completely blind to a probably hostile situation to get an asset that didn’t know they were coming. But Louisa also didn’t have a better one. “It’s confidential,” Roddy interrupted. “What do you fucking mean confidential?” Lamb muttered, leaning over Roddy’s shoulder.

That sprint got me 233 words!

Parliament - mangroves Ch1

“Diana, come to gloat?” River snapped before he could rein himself back in. That stun grenade had really fucking hurt and he was still hungover. “I’ve had plenty of time to enjoy your demise Cartwright. I don’t need to have you locked up down here to satisfy that.” Diana and her lackey settled into the chairs on the other side with a lot more grace than River had been permitted. The Dog that had escorted him in left and clocked the door locked behind him, the lock echoing with an unnerving finality. “Why am I here? A man takes a day off work and suddenly he’s treated like he’s tried to blow up parliament,” River scoffed, rolling his shoulders causally and failing in his nonchalance as the cuffs jingled abrasively in front of him. The other woman flinched ever so slightly. River was right, this was about Westacres. Diana wouldn’t give him anything. She was too good for that but whoever her reluctant ally was might. River turned his attention back to Diana who was watching him with the practiced nonchalance of someone who knows more than you. It was infuriating.

That sprint got me 375 words!

Exuberance - untitled Catherine Babysitter fic

“I wanna go outside,” River announced as he pushed the final jigsaw piece into place. Catherine looked at her watch, an hour? Had an hour really passed while this enigma of a child just sat in silence in complete concentration? That wasn’t how children were supposed to work from what Catherine had heard from family and friends. She had been fully prepared for babysitting a little blonde hellion with all the elitist attitudes that came from being the grandchild of a rich Berlin era spy gentleman. River hadn’t been like that so far. Odd was a good way to describe the six year old; Catherine hadn’t worked him out yet. “Oh, ok I guess we can go for a walk?” Catherine nodded, putting her a bookmark in the borrowed book for later. “You want to come with me?” River frowned. “Of course. It’ll be nice to get a bit of fresh air and you can show me the sights,” Catherine smiled, offering her hand to help him up off the floor. He looked at it, biting his bottom lip uncertainly before the expected bubbling energy and exuberance started to trickle into his little frame like a tap had just been opened. “I don’t know many places around here yet as I tend to spend most of the time in the garden with my grandad but nana showed me a walk with some cool trees,” River rambled, clasping her hand in his and leaping back to vertical.

That sprint got me 366 words!

[seat-safety-switch]

Although the internet has largely made it obsolete, I genuinely enjoy the old-school method of stumbling across a car with a "For Sale" sign stuck in the window. Foot-level, direct human interaction is the best kind of used shitbox sale, not this impersonal nonsense brought to us by Californian Caesar cosplayers.

This is the way our primitive forebears used to get cars. We'd be walking to the corner store, and see a wild horse. That horse seems like it'd be pretty good to ride. I could ride it to work, but maybe it needs some horse parts. Cowboys figured it out, and so can you.

You get to see the car much better, for of course, but you also get to see the neighbourhood in which the car has lived for the last little while. Look at the car. Like it? Don't call the seller right away. In fact, it's best if you don't call them for a couple days. Meander around the block. See if you can figure out which house owns it. Did they buy a new one? Does it look like they might have some parts left over? That's leverage you can pop on the seller when it comes time to negotiate, and not at all "aggravated stalking," which my attorney informs me is not even a crime.

Not having the seller right there is a huge benefit, too. You can lurk around the vehicle, really give it a thrice-over. The cops won't give a shit that you're inspecting something with a "For Sale" sign, which is something they would otherwise get grumpy about if it were being done to some random civilian's car. With this increased access, you can measure bits and pieces to figure out if you can, say, stick military five-ton axles under it. Better to do that now, than after you've bought it, and having some grumpy suburbanite sneering at you while you're trying to laser-scan his oilpan with your phone is just going to be a downer on the whole situation.

Now it's the time to pounce. With the information you've been provided, you can help convince the seller that you were just passing by, and not at all some kind of degenerate looking for a cheap beater. Of course I'm from this neighbourhood, I live just over there at that store I remembered the name of while I was trying to figure out if you had a locking rear diff waiting to go into the slightly newer 4Runner parked in your driveway. Maybe you can cut your neighbour a deal?

[x0x0josephinex0x0]

Flame-Bright | Part 2

After a literal age..........I finally wrote it. AND LET ME TELL U WHAT. It's not proofread, that's for sure! Genre: BFFS to ???? in this part, sports statistician!part time model!seungcheol x fem!fashion designer!reader Check out pt 1 for warnings, all still apply, DEFINITELY a menty b is described pretty generously and it is almost exactly how I experience bad bad bad mental health days. no smut in this part, there miiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight be some *closed door* or implied smut in the next (and final) part. Also sorry if the end feels rushed....................................I have no good excuse just kind of wanted to write the next part because this part was SO angsty and hard for me to write. ALSO healthy levels of angst in this one, reader is DUMB AF sorry if that's frustrating, etc etc etc peace and love and sorry for all the warnings I probably forgot. A/N: This is also lowkey a love letter for @forcheol bc she fuels my fire for this cutie boy. breathe with me hani it's all gonna be ok

“I have a surprise for you!” Seungcheol practically sings as he crosses the threshold into your apartment. 

“Are you finally going to let me sell your extra kidney on the black market?” you ask, your gaze laser-focused on the fabric in front of you as you make slow, painstaking cuts. “Because if not, I’m not interested.”

Seungcheol scoffs. “Firstly, we’ve been over this. I don’t have an extra kidney. I have the two I was born with.”

“But you only need one,” you remind him. “So the other one is superfluous.”

He shakes his head. “Secondly, it’s not that, but I’m pretty sure you’ll like this almost as much.”

“Will it make me a lot of money?” you say with a final snip through the thick velvet.

“Is that all you care about?” he asks you as you look up at him. He’s half-smiling with an eyebrow raised, and you can tell he’s fighting back a bigger grin. 

“Duh,” you say. “No, but seriously. What’s the surprise?”

“I’m moving!” he announces excitedly. 

Your jaw drops, along with your heart. “Wait, like…away?” you ask him.

“No, silly,” he reassures. “It’s a ten-minute walk in your direction from my old place.”

“So you’re moving…closer to me?” you ask, doing the mental math.

“Only about five minutes’ walk from here,” he says proudly. “And you know what’s the best part?”

His eyes are a little too eager. “Are you about to ask me to do something?” you ask, narrowing your eyes at him.

His smile falters a little bit, and you roll your eyes. “I knew it! What do you want from me?”

“Well, it’s something you’d like…something you’re good at…” he says sheepishly.

“So why are you hesitating?”

“I need you to feng shui the place,” Seungcheol blurts. “Um… decorate. So that it doesn’t turn into a mojo dojo casa house.”

“That’s it? I’d love to do that. I don’t know why you were so scared to ask.”

He smiles grimly. “Well, you’ll understand when we get there.”

******

“Hey, uh….you in there?” Seungcheol asks you, his worried eyes taking in your dropped jaw and the way your feet are absolutely cemented to the sidewalk. 

“You bought this house?” you manage to choke out, finally tearing your eyes away from the structure to look at Seungcheol.

You knew this place – of course you did. How many times had you passed by to admire it, secretly daydreaming about planting camellia bushes by the front door and adding a swing to its old wraparound porch? How many unspoken wishes had you made at its front gate as you’d stared into its old boarded-up windows?

But this house – the one you’d fallen in love with despite its ugliness – was no longer boarded up. You’d wondered when it had been fixed up, supposing that in your business with work, you hadn’t had the time to take walks around the neighborhood. But now the porch is clean, the weeds have been pulled, new grass has been put down in the front yard, and the entire face of the house has been re-painted. It looks like a new home, with its pretty white brick and freshly-shingled brown roof, perfect for a new owner.

“When?” you ask. “When did you do this?”

“Oh, months ago,” Seungcheol admits meekly.

“And you waited to tell me – why?” you ask him, in a too-loud voice that makes a lady passing by stare at you in alarm as she hurries her small dog along.

“I’m sorry, I just…I kind of wanted it to be a surprise?” You give him your best “be serious” look, and he caves. “Okay, well, the truth is that I was toying with buying it for literally years, and the price dropped about six months ago.”

You realize what he’s getting at. “Oh,” you say softly. “About the time I got promoted.”

“And you were so busy,” Seungcheol says in a pleading tone. “I barely saw you regardless. And I knew you’d feel guilty if you knew I was fixing up the place and it was so close by and you couldn’t help. I was trying to prevent you from adding one more thing to your plate.”

You bite your lip. “Well, I can’t say I’m happy about it, but I guess I understand.” And if you’re being honest with yourself, you also know he’s right. You would’ve felt guilty. You feel guilty now, looking at the house that Seungcheol built without you, knowing you took no part in the remaking of this place that was so dear to you. Well, I suppose I’ll have to change that, you think to yourself.

“Do you want to see the inside?” Seungcheol suggests, seeming to guess the bittersweetness you’re feeling.

“Yes,” you say, following him up the walkway into the home.

It’s beautiful inside – but it’s empty. You try to distract yourself from your mixed emotions by putting your designer hat on. “So what do you want it to look like?” you ask Seungcheol, who is still watching you like he’s scared you’ll start yelling at him.

“I want it to look like I live here,” he answers simply. “You know me really well, so I kind of figured I’d trust you to do your thing.”

“I’m not an interior decorator,” you remind him. “But I’ll do my best. What’s your budget?”

At this, Seungcheol blushes. “Don’t worry about it.”

You level a sharp gaze at him. “Just how rich are you?”

“Do I have to answer that?” he begs.

“Yes,” you snap.

“Why are you mad?” he asks you.

“Because you kept such a massively huge secret from me – and now it seems like there’s another thing or two I still have to find out about you.” You sigh. “You’re my best friend, Seungcheol. You know everything there is to know about me. I thought it was the same for you.”

You know before Seungcheol even says anything that you crossed some invisible line -- his eyes flash with a fire you've seen in him when discussing your exes, but only rarely does he look at you like this. “Oh yeah?” he says quietly, but there’s a hard edge to his voice. “When was I supposed to bring it up to you, huh? When you were averaging 3 hours of sleep a night trying to learn your new role? When you were sick for three weeks after your first big project because you’d worked yourself to the bone, and I had to come check on you every day to make sure you hadn’t died in your sleep? When would it have been a good time to tell you?” He pauses at the sight of your face, at the hurt and shock there, and takes a deep breath and lets it out. “I’m sorry. I guess it’s just … I didn’t know. I didn’t know how to break the news.”

“I never asked,” you whisper. “It’s not all your fault. I – I never ask you what’s going on in your life. I’m a really selfish friend.” You bite your tongue to keep the tears that you can feel burning in your eyes from overflowing. It hurts to realize how much you rely on him, and how little he feels like he can do the same.

“No,” Seungcheol denies, his voice distressed. “No, listen. It’s not like that, either. It is the same for me. I always want to tell you when something happens in my life, but I just worry about complicating things for you. I know you always have a lot going on. There’s more moving parts to your life than there is to mine.” He takes a step closer to you. “And we’re not friends because you ask me about my day. We’re friends because we like being around each other.”

You can quite literally feel yourself dancing around what you wish you could say to Choi Seungcheol. Your heart is in your throat, and you have to take a deep breath before mustering up a smile — though it feels completely false. “You’re right,” you breathe. “But I still want to know. It might be a lot to handle but you have to give me the choice, Seungcheol.” 

And you don’t say it — you can’t— but you think: it’s worth it if it’s you. And you can’t help but let one tear spill over.

Seungcheol makes a move toward you, but you hold your hand out to stop him. “I’m fine,” you reassure him, brushing the tear away and clearing your throat. “I just feel bad that I haven’t been as solid for you as you have for me.”

“I’m worried you’re now feeling like I regret taking care of you,” Seungcheol warns, his hands outstretched as though to pull you in. “I don’t mean to complain.”

You manage a watery chuckle. “I don’t feel like you’re complaining.”

“You know that’s how it goes, though, right?” he presses, seemingly unable to move on until he’s sure you understand. “Sometimes we’re both solid, sometimes I carry you, sometimes you carry me, sometimes we have to carry each other. That’s just life.”

You purse your lips at him. “Sounds like someone got an A in therapy.”

“At least I go to therapy.” 

“Touché,” you reply drily, once again turning your gaze to the large entryway. “Well, I’ll need a tour if I’m gonna help you decorate this place.”

“Come with me,” Seungcheol offers, tilting his head at the arched doorframe leading to a wide open room. 

“This is gonna be the kitchen,” Seungcheol informs you. “But I have no appliances or anything yet. But I want it to be a good entertaining space.”

“You’re planning on having people over?” you ask, trying to hide how shocked and delighted you are. One of the reasons you know you’re close with Seungcheol is that you’re one of the few friends he invites over.

“Of course, now that I’ve got the space,” he replies, a little miffed. “I didn’t have people over before because my apartment was small.” He gestures to the middle of the room. “I want a big table here. One where everyone can fit.”

The way he says it — so earnest, so sincere. A place for everyone. Everyone fits. You smile. “I love that.”

Seungcheol beams, and your knees go wobbly before you can prevent it. 

***

The tour was, overall, a success. Regardless of your initial surprise, the thought that Seungcheol was going to own the home you’d loved for so long felt right. You were buzzing with ideas — some less comfortable than others. For some reason, the idea of designing Seungcheol’s master bedroom raised the hair on your neck.

You’re just about to leave when you notice a door in the entryway that you didn’t explore. “Where does that go?” you ask, approaching it to open it, but Seungcheol steps in front of it smoothly, cutting you off.

He raises an eyebrow. “Don’t worry about it,” he says with a smile, staring you down with unshakable confidence.

“Well, now I’m worried about it. What are you hiding?” you say, trying to skirt around Seungcheol. He very easily wraps an arm around your waist and hoists you around so that he’s between you and the door again, and though the sudden contact is alarming, you glare at him over your shoulder. 

“Did you kill someone and hide the body in there?” you ask.

Seungcheol rolls his eyes. “No. That’s the best you could come up with?”

“Is there some weird culty crap in there, then? Are you planning on running a compound?”

“I actually don’t think I have the charisma necessary to be a cult leader,” he reasons. “I hate that you’ve thought that much about it,” you grumble, “but I kind of agree.”

“Hey!” he says, indignant. “You’re not supposed to bring up my lack of rizz.”

“You don’t have cult leader rizz, Seungcheol. That’s a compliment.” You shake your head. “This is a stupid conversation, and you still haven’t told me what’s in there!”

“That’s true,” he agrees, smiling sunnily down at you.

“I thought we said no more secrets,” you say, meeting his gaze.

“It’s not a secret. It’s a surprise,” he rationalizes, and you roll your eyes.

“So I’ll see it eventually?”

“Most definitely you will,” he assures. “Also, why were your first two guesses murder and cults? What kind of person do you think I am?”

“I hyperfixated on a true crime podcast last week,” you explain.

“Ah. Well, why don’t you hyperfixate on happier things? How busy are you today? Can we start shopping?”

He sounds so eager that you can’t bring yourself to shut him down, but the mysterious door stays in your head all the way up until your first post-breakup date with Jinho.

It is a bit of a rocky start. Jinho is an hour and a half late picking you up — but at least he texted beforehand, a definite improvement for how it’d been when you’d dated. “I’m so sorry,” he says, breathlessly, as he sweeps you into the cab. “I had a lot to do and it kind of got away from me.”

“It’s okay,” you say softly, tugging uncomfortably at the itchy black dress with its constricting high neck that had been hiding in the back of your closet since Jinho got it for you. He’d once complained that you never wore it, and you figured it would comfort him to see you making an effort to connect again, too.

The cab ride is pleasant enough, with Jinho talking about his work and his day. “How was your day?” he asks. 

“Well, actually,” you tell him, “my friend Seungcheol bought that old house I’ve loved forever.”

“The one five minutes from your apartment?” Jinho asks. He’d been familiar with the place. “The one that was kind of a dump?”

“It had character,” you say, a little affronted. “And yes, that one. He renovated it and asked me to help him decorate.”

“Does he need art?” Jinho asks interestedly.

You consider for a minute. For some reason, the idea of Seungcheol meeting Jinho feels like crossing a line. “He might,” you allow. “I’ll ask him.”

“I’ll get him a friends’ discount,” Jinho says eagerly. “I actually need more clients these days.”

You nod, grinning at his enthusiasm and pulling out your phone to text Seungcheol and ask if he needs art. After you’re finished sending the text, you pull at your collar again, noticing that you’re sweating a little in the hot air from the car heaters, exacerbating the itch.

Jinho takes your hand in his. “I’m nervous too,” he says quietly.

And even though he misinterpreted your discomfort for nerves, it’s a little endearing to hear him admit that you’re affecting him. So you don’t withdraw your hand.

***

Seungcheol was at work with you the next day. You’d been too busy with the release of the line, so you hadn’t been able to be there for the promotional photos he’d taken for the company website. But a fashion magazine had wanted to use your brand for an upcoming editorial, and Minghao thought it would be good to have a familiar face in the room for Seungcheol, who the magazine had specifically requested to work with.

His first look was a ribbed black turtleneck with white trim beneath a distressed leather jacket. He looked amazing -- of course he did -- but you were expecting him to. What you were not expecting was how attractive Seungcheol became as he effortlessly shifted from your sweet and generous and warm best friend into a haughty, confident, smirking model. One second, Seungcheol was enthusing about how soft the turtleneck was, and the next, he was smoldering like a forgotten fire into the camera.

The photographer was obsessed with him. It was almost bothersome how often she approached him just to tweak his pose in the most insignificant way possible. You were almost positive it was just so she could let her hands flutter over the fine structure of his face and the perfect planes of his shape. It annoyed you even more that Seungcheol didn’t even seem to notice. He (infuriatingly) shot her a grateful smile after every correction.

You try to keep it out of your voice as you greet him at the end of the shoot. “You did amazing,” you say, because it’s the only thing you can trust to sound genuine about the experience. 

“Thanks,” Seungcheol says easily. He’d finished the shoot in a stunning black denim set beaded with white crystal flames up the arms. Anyone else in this outfit might look a little crazy, but not him. He made it look like something anyone could wear. “These clothes are really comfy!” Seungcheol says, interrupting your errant thoughts (about him).

“That’s the idea,” you say with a smile. “Are you all tired out?”

“Why? Did you want to do something?”

You make a guilty face at his cheerful tone. “Meet with Jinho about the art?”

To his credit, Seungcheol only lets his smile slip a fraction before he agrees. You don’t need to ask him why he might not particularly want to meet with Jinho — as far as Seungcheol is concerned, the jury is still out in regards to your prodigal ex come home. He’d responded to the message you’d sent asking if Jinho could help him with a clipped “sure”, which honestly was enough to let you know that the three of you collaborating on this project was going to be weird at best and wildly uncomfortable at worst.

But still, Seungcheol travels to your apartment with you to await Jinho — even standing up as he arrives and greets you with a smile and a kiss on the cheek. “Hey,” he says breathlessly. “Did you wait long?”

“Not at all,” you say reassuringly, looking between them. You don’t know why, but it almost makes you laugh to watch them size each other up. Jinho’s eyes widen just slightly as they take in Seungcheol’s impressive build, and he can’t suppress a swallow as Seungcheol looks him over with an appraising sort of gaze. Although a couple inches shorter than Jinho, Seungcheol’s presence is far more impactful. 

You can almost hear the tension siphon out of the room as Seungcheol finally breaks a smile. “Hi,” he says, holding out his hand. “I’m Seungcheol.”

“I’m Jinho,” he replies, taking the offered hand and wincing a little as Seungcheol squeezes. “Nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Have you?” Seungcheol says, shooting you a look.

“Well, I heard you renovated that house,” Jinho says hurriedly, finally taking a seat at the table. 

“I did,” Seungcheol says, easing himself into a chair. “And it’s looking pretty bare at the moment.”

“Well, I hope I can help with that,” Jinho says fervently. 

“She tells me you’re quite good at your job,” Seungcheol says, gesturing at you.

Jinho’s eyes sparkle as he looks at you, and your heart turns over in your chest. “Very kind of you,” he says.

You shrug. “Just true.” Never mind that you sometimes wished Jinho was worse at his job so he had more time for you. You try not to let the bitterness of that thought make a show on your face.

Seungcheol is watching both of you carefully when Jinho turns his attention to him. “What’s the budget we’re working with?” Jinho asks.

Seungcheol shrugs. “I’m pretty flexible.”

Jinho’s eyes go wide. “What, exactly, do you do for work?”

“I’m a sports statistician,” Seungcheol replies with a wry smile, “but I inherited a lot of money from my grandfather and spent the last ten years building a pretty significant real estate portfolio.”

Jinho nods in understanding while you gape at your friend. “You never told me that!” you say. 

“Maybe I didn’t want you to like me for the money,” Seungcheol teases, smiling at your flabbergasted face.

“Mostly commercial real estate?” asks Jinho. 

“Mostly business parks,” Seungcheol confirms. “I own a hotel downtown too.”

“Is the house your first residential acquisition?”

“The first I plan on living in myself,” Seungcheol clarifies.

Jinho nods. “Well, we can go one of three routes. You can use the art as another type of investment, or you can use it as just decor, or both.”

“I’m leaning toward decor,” Seungcheol says, “but investments would be cool, too.” He pulls out his phone. “I like calm pieces like this,” he explains, pointing at a few reference paintings — boats at a dock at sunrise, a still-life of dandelions on the shore of a pond, a cozy-looking city street in autumn. “Nothing too modern or sterile.”

Jinho nods again. “Okay, sounds good. I’ll see what I can do.”

It takes another half hour of finagling to get Jinho out of the apartment so you can whirl on Seungcheol. “Commercial real estate?” you say in a tiny voice. 

“Yeah,” he says, and you can hear the tension from the argument yesterday in his voice.

“I’m not mad,” you say quickly.

“I know,” he says back. You stare at each other for a long time. 

“Have I ever stayed in the hotel you own?” you finally ask to break the stony silence.

“Have you ever stayed in the Grandeur?” he fires back.

“You own the Grandeur?” you gasp, jaw dropping automatically. 

“Yeah,” he says again. “We had my birthday there once and I liked it so much I thought…” He trails off and blushes. 

“You thought what?”

And sheepishly, he looks down at the floor and replies in a quiet voice, “I thought it’d be a good birthday present.”

He actually laughs at the look on your face when he notices you. “This was all before I knew you,” he admits.

You sit down at the table with him again. “Okay, so, for the past few years we’ve been friends, you’ve been the richest person I’ve ever met. And I’ve met some very wealthy people. Like, when I bumped into you in the elevator, you were already a very wealthy man.”

“Yes,” he confirms. “This is why I think it’s silly to go Dutch when we go out to eat.”

“But you never said anything—“

“Because then I’d sound like a terrible person. ‘No, it’s fine, I’ll get this, I’m actually way richer than you.’”

“I might not have taken it that way,” you say doubtfully.

“Does it really change that much to know that I’m rich?” he asks. “I’m the same guy from before. Same personality and everything.”

“I know. It’s just weird to have to do the mental shift.”

“You don’t have to shift anything,” Seungcheol insists. “Everything is the same as it was before. You just have more information about me.”

“Why is this so weird for me?” you groan, slumping in your seat. “Intellectually, I get that you’re the same dude. But it just seems like you have this whole side of your life that you kept from me.”

“Maybe I was worried you’d react poorly,” Seungcheol says with a raised eyebrow.

You have to laugh at that. “You could be hanging out with celebrities. You could be dating models. But you hang out with me.”

He grins. “Well, you’re a lot more fun than most rich people.”

“Really?” you ask, rubbing at your forehead tiredly. “I guess being a disaster is entertaining, if nothing else.”

“You aren’t a disaster,” Seungcheol says with a warning tone. “And, for the third time, nothing is really different.”

“One thing’s for sure, though.”

“What’s that?”

“I’m never paying for another meal again,” you say, finally managing a real smile.

Seungcheol nods in approval. “That was how I hoped you’d react.”

“Just immediately start taking advantage of you?” you ask with a laugh.

“Well, yeah, pretty much,” Seungcheol says, and finally all the discomfort you’d been feeling dissolves into thin air as the two of you laugh together again. 

***

“So…you spend a lot of time with Seungcheol,” Jinho says at dinner next weekend. 

“Well, yeah,” you say. “He’s my best friend.”

Jinho nods thoughtfully, but he doesn’t look happy. “Do you think Seungcheol has ever had feelings for you?” he finally asks.

“I’m pretty certain he’s never felt anything past platonic for me,” you say, staring into your glass of water. “Why?”

Jinho gives you a long, hard look before answering. “You seem very close.”

“Like siblings?” you offer up half-heartedly. “There’s nothing going on between us, I promise. If there was, I wouldn’t have agreed to start seeing you again.”

Jinho nods. “I believe you. He just — he’s kind of intense, isn’t he?”

You contemplate. “I think he can be,” you finally respond. “Seungcheol is like … I don’t know. Maybe a fire is the best analogy. Capable of being comforting and quite destructive.”

“If he’s the flame, what does that make me?” Jinho asks you. He slips his hand into yours. 

You give him a little half-smile. “If he’s fire, you’re water.”

“Water usually beats fire,” Jinho says, sounding a bit comforted.

You squeeze his hand. “It’s not a competition.”

Because it isn’t. Seungcheol’s fire, as far as you could tell, burned deeper within him than the Marianna Trench, a terrifyingly powerful passion held in check by a man with enough kindness to keep it bubbling under the surface instead of spilling out onto everything around him. Jinho was more akin to swimming in the shallows. It was a comforting thing to be able to see his limits.

This is the first night that you kiss Jinho, post-breakup. The kiss is sugar-sweet, brief, and nervous — like you’re high school kids again. Your heart speeds up a little as your lips just brush.

And there is no fire to it at all.

***

You wake up the next day with a heaviness that seems to have burrowed its way into the marrow of your bones. It’s more emotional than physical, but the telltale ache of your body is enough to have you calling Minghao mid-morning. “I can’t come in,” you tell him. “I'm coming down with something.”

“Rest up,” he tells you, and you’re very grateful for him and how understanding he is as you end the call. 

Your first thought would normally be to call Seungcheol, but you dial Jinho’s number instead. When he doesn’t answer — probably still asleep, you reason — you slump on your bed, exhausted and unable to do much else besides stare at the ceiling of your bedroom.

This kind of sickness is awful. It’s even more awful when you’re facing it alone — when there’s no one there that can warm up the cold inside you. You can’t even muster up energy to leave your bed. The thought of cooking something is laughable. The emptiness and silence of it all is paralyzing. You’re lucky — for you, this inconvenient reality of your mental illness is rare — but when it hits, it’s difficult to remember what the point is of anything. 

Time crawls by like an inchworm across a vast, bare desert. If you had been able to feel anything at all, you know you’d be feeling acutely miserable. And still you lay there, uncomfortably warm in the light of day, still tangled in your blankets but unable to move them.

It’s a mystery to you how long you lay like this before a buzzing splits the silence. With tremendous effort, you grab your phone and look at the caller ID, expecting to see Jinho returning your call. But it’s Seungcheol.

“Hi,” he says once you’ve managed to answer it. “I haven’t heard from you today. You okay?”

“Hi,” you say in a flat, robotic tone, devoid of normal expression.

And in one word, Seungcheol knows. 

“I’m coming over,” he says, and hangs up.

A little drop of emotion seems to spill from your otherwise empty cup — anxiety. Seungcheol knows that you have days where life is harder than others. He’s also never seen you this incapacitated by one of them. A little knot of panic starts to grow in your chest, amplified by the seemingly hours-long minutes it takes Seungcheol to get to you. But when you finally hear him at the door, he lets himself in. 

He quietly makes his way back into your bedroom and sits at your bedside. “Hey, sweetheart,” he says softly.

You try to get your mouth to move — no dice. Instead, you just slightly turn your body to face him, trying your hardest to focus your gaze on him so he knows you heard him.

And Seungcheol leans down and scoops you up out of your blankets, lifting you easily from the bed and onto the couch. He doesn’t let you go, though, just keeps ahold of you. He holds you in a hug until the feeling starts to come back into your limbs and you’re able to reach your arms around him and cling on tight. And then he keeps you in his arms for several more minutes for good measure. You barely notice his sigh of relief and the way he relaxes into your grasp when you finally wrap your arms around him.

When he pulls away, you cringe. But he just pushes your hair off your face and looks you over, and the warmth of his hands on you soothes whatever raw part of yourself began to ache when he stopped holding you.

And he doesn’t ask you what happened, or try to make you explain anything. He just asks you if you’ve eaten. 

“No,” you rasp. It’s the first word you’ve spoken since the phone call. And so Seungcheol makes you eggs. He watches like a hawk as you mechanically bring the fork to your mouth until the eggs are gone. And then he sits beside you, quietly reading, until the sun goes down and Jinho arrives.

By that time, you still feel lethargic and nowhere near normal, but you can stomach a conversation. Jinho puts his arms around you and holds you tight as Seungcheol slips out the door, and you nestle in close, trying to feel the same warmth you felt when it was your best friend holding you. “Bad day?” Jinho asks softly, pressing a kiss into your hair. And you laugh — because he’s not wrong. But how can you explain this?

Luckily he doesn’t ask you to. The two of you put on a comforting cartoon and cuddle on the couch all night. Jinho is asleep, holding you, before you can put together how he even knew something was wrong. And when you do put it together, it hits you like a gut punch. Because there’s no one else who knew. 

Seungcheol has saved you once again. 

***

Two months later

“You better not drop that,” Seungcheol warns Mingyu, who shoots you a longsuffering look as he carries in a sleek overhead lamp to go in Seungcheol’s office.

“Go easy on him! He managed the glassware really well!” you scold, hitting Seungcheol lightly on the sleeve. “And shouldn’t you be carrying something?”

“He said he’s supervising,” Wonwoo says owlishly, right on Mingyu’s tail with a small box of paperweights. 

Seungcheol throws up his arms at the look you level at him. “I helped move all the heavy stuff,” he calls after Wonwoo, who’s disappearing up the stairs.

“So did Mingyu, but you don’t see him sitting around watching,” you tease with a smile. 

Seungcheol rolls his eyes and heads for the door, stepping around Jinho, who’s bringing in the last of the paintings for the gallery wall in the library. “Need help?” you ask as he comes to you, pressing a kiss to your cheek. 

“No, that’s okay,” he says. “You should help Vernon, though. I’ve heard he’s struggling with the jerseys.”

So you head into the east wing of the house, which Seungcheol has converted into an entertainment center. There are working arcade games, a pool table, a foosball table, and a projector complete with a huge drop-down screen for movies. Seungcheol, ever the sports fanatic, has acquired three priceless signed jerseys: a Pedro Martinez-signed Mets jersey, a Michael Jordan-signed Bulls jersey, and a Steve Young-signed 49ers jersey. Vernon is positioned underneath the wall where the Jordan and Martinez jerseys are already hung, staring pensively.

“You needed help?”

“They’re too far apart,” Vernon says. “There’s no room for the last one.”

“How long did it take you to do this?” you ask tiredly.

“Like two hours,” he replies with a sigh. 

So the two of you spend the rest of the afternoon taking down the jerseys and repositioning them. By the time you’re done, the rest of the house is practically finished. It’s amazing to see how much livelier it feels now that it’s not all empty white walls. 

“We have less than two hours until the housewarming party,” you remind Seungcheol, who’s sitting on the entryway steps looking exhausted. “Don’t you need to change?”

“Have you picked out my outfit yet?” he asks as Jinho comes up behind you and slides a hand around your waist. 

“I am nothing if not capable of meeting deadlines,” you remind him, squeezing Jinho’s hand and then beckoning Seungcheol up to his bedroom. Deftly, you lay his outfit out on his bed for him: a pair of light brown chinos, some black loafers, and a gift bag.

He raises his eyebrows. “What’s this?” he complains, but you can see a bit of his dimple and know he’s trying to hide a smile.

“Your housewarming present from me,” you tell him. “Now open it.”

He does — and reveals a soft black collared shirt. “This is nice,” he says, rubbing the material with his fingers. 

“I made it,” you say. 

“You did?” he asks, looking at you so quickly you think you hear his neck pop.

“By hand. With love,” you say, and open your arms to him.

He doesn’t hesitate to pull you in, wrapping you up in a squeeze. “It’s perfect,” he says into your hair. “Thanks.”

“And,” you say, pulling back before his closeness gives you goosebumps, “a finishing touch.” You hand him a small box. “From Jinho.”

Surprised, Seungcheol opens the box. Inside is a slim black watch. “Wow. I should go tell him thank you,” Seungcheol says.

“Yes, you should,” you agree. “And then you should shower.” You crinkle your nose, and Seungcheol scoffs before running downstairs to say thank you to Jinho for the help and the watch.

You don’t have a lot of time to get ready for the housewarming party, so you end up showering quickly and throwing your hair into a messy bun before putting on your nice clothes and running downstairs to the cab Jinho brought to pick you up. Together, you make the short drive to the house, where you can already see a small crowd of people standing in that beautiful entryway. 

You grasp Jinho’s hand as the two of you walk in, greeting the friends you know and looking at the house with the renewed attention of people who aren’t trying to decorate it. It’s beautiful and cozy, with a natural, elevated style that suits the owner perfectly. Seungcheol’s house is full of earthy colors and calming textures, and you couldn’t be more proud. 

As is so often the case in a crowd, you find yourself looking for the man of the hour — and your heart sinks as your eyes follow the errant sound of his laughter in the high-ceiling room. Seungcheol is standing with a beautiful woman, laughing heartily at something she said. 

You knew he’d stopped seeing that pretty, knowledgeable sports reporter about two weeks after it started, but you hadn’t heard anything else about his love life since. You had a sense that Seungcheol tried to keep you separate from his romantic relationships, and so you didn’t want to pry. But surely he’d have said something to you if he really was seeing someone.

Someone calls your name, bringing you back to earth. “Minghao?” you say in disbelief.

“Hi,” Minghao says with a wave. 

“What are you doing here?” you ask.

“Seungcheol invited me,” he says simply. 

“Wow, that’s cool,” you say, still confused at the sight of your boss just hanging out with all your friends. “Minghao, this is Jinho. Jinho, meet Minghao — he’s my boss.”

They shake hands while you try to figure out why you didn’t introduce Jinho as your boyfriend. Minghao asks you if you’re excited for your award ceremony tomorrow night — turns out, one of your shoots won some kind of award.

“Kind of,” you reply. “I’m a little nervous.”

“Don’t be nervous,” Jinho says gently. “You deserve the award.”

You give his hand a squeeze, and then Seungcheol steps away from the woman (after giving her shoulder a squeeze, which makes you grit your teeth), and stands on one of the steps of the staircase to address the group. 

“Thank you all for your help and for coming to this housewarming party. I wouldn’t have been able to make this move without lots of help, so I’m super grateful.” He looks right at you then, and you see that carefully caged fire beneath his brown eyes. You feel the rest of the world melt away as he continues. “I want this to be a place where you feel welcome. I want you to feel as comfortable here as you do in your own home. Please let this be the beginning of a tradition where you know you can show up on my porch at any time and there will be a warm greeting for you.”

Your heart is in your throat. The eye contact between you two seems to connect your souls, searing into you like a hot branding iron, marking you forever. 

And then it passes, and you take a deep shuddering breath. Jinho looks at you in alarm. And Seungcheol finishes, “there are drinks and snacks — stay as long as you like.”

As everyone else mulls around the house, eating and drinking and laughing together, Seungcheol comes up to you and Jinho. "Thank you for your help," he says to Jinho, and his smile is genuine and kind. "I really couldn't have managed without you. The art is fantastic."

"Anytime," Jinho says, blushing. You grin at the sight of his shyness.

"I wanted to show you something," Seungcheol says, taking Jinho by the arm. "Do you mind?"

"Not at all," you say, waving them off. The two men disappear into the crowd, and you walk toward Mingyu, Wonwoo, and Vernon, who are all standing at the edge of the room laughing with each other. "Hey," you say, and Mingyu sweeps you into his side in a quick hug.

"Hi," they chorus together. "You cleaned up nice," Wonwoo says, pointing at your dress.

"Thanks!" you say, a little surprised. Wonwoo usually wasn't the most vocal in his appreciation, and the compliment melted you just a little.

"Seungcheol told him to say that," Vernon says, with the air of a toddler tattling on his brother.

Your heart warms at the thought. "Of course he did," you say. "He's entirely too good to me."

"Where is Jinho?" asks Mingyu.

"Seungcheol dragged him off somewhere," you say. "I don't know."

The three of you discuss the usual gossip -- the other boys' love lives -- all the way up until Seungcheol and Jinho find you again. Jinho looks a little rattled, but pulls it together when he sees you.

"Where did he take you?" you ask him.

"I'll tell you later." It came out in such a flat little voice that you know something is wrong, but you don't feel like you can ask him about it, so you just stay quiet.

And you feel such sweeping emptiness that you find yourself dissociating from the party. Seungcheol introduces you to his friends you didn’t know already, and even in your disconnected state you register the pretty woman’s name — Nikita. She is so nice to you, telling you how much she loves the decor in “Cheol’s” house. 

It’s enough to send you home with a headache an hour and a half later.

***

It’s 8:45pm. Jinho left your award ceremony to go to the bathroom, and he still hasn’t come back. 

Things have been weird since last night. You’re starting to get the feeling that Jinho notices how you’re affected by Seungcheol and isn’t happy about it. It makes you feel rubbed raw, like your whole body has carpet burn. 

But now, you’re starting to panic. Jinho was the one who drove you downtown to this swanky party your company threw for you, and now you’re 45 minutes from home with just your phone — no wallet to pay for a cab if Jinho really did run off. 

Your phone rings — it’s Jinho. 

“Where are you?” you ask in a panic, your voice cracking with stress.

“I left,” Jinho says calmly. “I’m sorry. But I think there are some things you’ve been lying to me about. So for your own sake, and for my sanity, we can’t do this anymore.”

“Lying?” you say, choking around the word. “What do you mean?”

“Call Seungcheol. I bet he can explain it to you,” Jinho says harshly. And he hangs up.

The only reason why you don’t call Seungcheol immediately upon hearing the line go dead is because you’re in shock. You’d thought that the very real, very intensely powerful feelings you felt for Seungcheol wouldn’t get in the way of developing a new relationship — possibly hoping that any new feelings would push out the old ones.

But those old feelings had grown roots. And now they sat there, planted in your chest, too entangled with the person you are to be plucked out, and you’d been refusing to look at them, but now it was time. Jinho was right — you’d lied to him when you’d said there was nothing there. You’d lied to yourself for months, maybe years. The only person it seemed that you hadn’t lied to about it was Seungcheol himself, and that was simply because he’d never asked. If he’d asked, you would’ve lied to him too — lied until you were blue in the face, lied until you both believed it, because the truth would surely kill whatever good thing existed between the two of you.

The truth being, of course, that you are in love with Choi Seungcheol.

You’ve fought it so long it almost relieves you to say it, if only just to yourself. You’re in love with him, and you know now that no matter how much anyone else tries, you’re going to end up right back here, wanting him.

Your hands shake as you call him. 

He answers on the second ring.

“Jinho left me at the party,” you say hazily. “I’m 45 minutes away and I don’t have my wallet. I’m — I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Seungcheol says. You can hear him moving around, probably looking for his coat and his keys, and then he says, “are you okay? Where are you right now?”

You look around. Unbeknownst to you, your feet carried you out of the event space and into the lobby area, where you’re alone. “I’m okay. I’m by myself. I'm still inside the venue.”

“Stay right there, and don’t move. I’m coming.”

You expect the time to crawl by as you wait for Seungcheol, a pit of dread building in your stomach, but before you know it, he’s walking in and scooping you into his arms. “I’m so sorry,” he says, and you don’t have the strength to resist melting into him. Unconsciously, you wrap your arms around his neck, burying your face in his chest. 

“Don’t be sorry,” you whisper back. “I did this to myself.”

“There’s no good excuse for him to leave you here,” Seungcheol says sharply. 

He takes you out to his car. The drive home is almost silent, as you let tears fall into your lap, staining your pink dress. When you finally get to your apartment, Seungcheol helps you inside before he turns to you, jaw clenched. “I ought to kill him,” he says in a low, dangerous voice.

“You don’t know —“ you start, but Seungcheol pulls away.

“No, I’m not going to hear this,” he says shortly. “All of our whole friendship, you’ve always accepted this kind of thing as inevitable. I have to know. Why do you do it?”

Seungcheol is angrier than you’ve ever seen him — brown eyes blazing, cheeks red and face heated. “I don’t understand.”

“What don’t you understand,” you ask in a flat little voice. 

“I haven’t ever seen you be treated well in a relationship. And that’s not your fault, but I guess I don’t know why you stick around when time after time they make you miserable.” He pinches the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “I watch them hurt you, over and over again. Why do you just take it? Why don’t you fight for yourself?”

“I — because of love?” you squeak. “Love means — love means you stay.”

And your heart breaks. Because every time someone else walked away from you, it reinforced the idea that you were uncared for. Because no matter how well the relationship started, it always ends up hurting you more than anyone. And because the only man who’s never hurt you is the one in front of you right now, and even if he did love you, you don’t trust that you could believe it. 

He takes your face in his hands. “It’s not love. Love isn’t the thing that breaks your heart. At least, not when it’s healthy.” He brushes a tear off your face with his thumb. “Someone who truly loves you wouldn’t leave you behind like that.”

Maybe his fire lights some of yours too — because now, you’re angry. Angry enough to push his hands from your face, to turn away from those eyes that are so beseeching and so understanding and so right. “Are you the expert?” you ask him quietly, but your hands are shaking and your voice is lethal. “What do you really know about love?”

His jaw flexes — his eyes flash — he crosses his arms over his chest. “Everything I know about love,” he says with a barely contained voice, “I have learned from you.”

You have no words for this. So you stand, breathless, watching Seungcheol. Waiting.

He sighs. And then comes undone. The tears start to flow down his cheeks. But when you move toward him, he steps away. “I’ve loved you for so long it’s hard to imagine a time when I didn’t. When I try to find someone else, I end up falling in love with pieces of them that remind me of you. It’s unfair to them. I haven’t tried in awhile.”

He brushes his tears, then looks you in the eye. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. I’ll let you…I’ll give you some space.”

And with that, he leaves you alone in your apartment, wondering how small a human is capable of feeling.

***

The next few days are torturously slow. You’re icy cold and can’t seem to get warm no matter what you do. Seungcheol doesn’t reach out — and you know it’s because he’s trying to give you space — but you sort of hate not hearing from him, not knowing what’s going on. By day three, you’ve had enough. You call him.

And the look he gives you when he shows up on your doorstep a few minutes later is almost enough to make you abandon what you know you have to say. What all that time by yourself has taught you. What you've spent all your nights crying yourself to sleep over.

But still — Seungcheol holds you. He wraps you up in his arms, his broad hand stroking the back of your head, and you can feel his heart nearly leaping out of his chest.

“I love you,” you whisper.

He freezes. Pulls back, confused. “I love you,” you repeat, louder now.

“You do?” he asks. And he’s bewildered, but he also seems to sag in relief.

“Yes,” you say. “I don’t remember when it started. It doesn’t matter. All I know is I love you.”

And when he smiles at you, for the first time in days, you don’t feel that spine-tingling cold. 

You take a deep breath.

“But I don’t think I’m in a good place for a relationship right now,” you say.

Seungcheol swallows. Hard.

“I know you don’t need to be perfect to be in a relationship,” you say. “And I’m not saying I don’t want to be with you. I’ve just learned that I don’t know how to open myself up to love. Real love. And … and if it’s you, I can’t risk it.” You take his face in your hands. “I want to be healthy. I don't want to ... depend on you so much that I lose myself, like I do with other people. I wouldn’t ask you to wait around until I’m ready,” you murmur. “So I understand if…you can’t, or won’t. But I need to figure out some things first.”

And Seungcheol wraps his arms around you once again. “You are choosing yourself this time,” he says. “And I’m proud of you.”

After a long while of holding each other, Seungcheol says, “Hear me out.”

You look at him. “What do you mean?” 

“I got an offer. To help with the Olympics.”

Your jaw drops. “In France?”

He nods. “For four months.”

You wince as this sinks in. “You want to go, don’t you?”

“I really want to go,” he says. “And maybe…”

“That would give me time.” You don’t have to ask what he’s insinuating — you already know. 

“I’m not giving you a deadline,” he says quickly. “If you’re still not…well, I was thinking we could just — just see where we’re at by then.”

You resist the urge to burst into tears, to throw yourself into his arms and beg him not to leave, and instead try to be logical about it. “A winter alone,” you muse. “Maybe it’ll be good for me.”

Seungcheol looks like he could kiss you. Instead, he squeezes you tightly. “If you need me — I mean, I’ll fly home in a second if you ask.”

And you know that he’s telling the truth, and you know that because of that, you’d never ask that of him. But you still say, “Deal.”

And then you spend the rest of the night sitting quietly, snuggled up with your best friend, determinedly not thinking about the moment you’ll need to let go.

*** 

Seungcheol leaves two days later. 

He stops by before he heads to the airport. “Will you water my plants while I’m away?” he asks. 

“Of course,” you promise.

He gives you one last searching look. “I’m not leaving you,” he reminds you.

“I know,” you say quickly. 

“And you really can ask me to come back whenever you want,” he says.

“I know,” you say, finally cracking a smile. “Go live your dream. I’ll be here when you get back.”

The final hug, a sweeter-than-honey forehead kiss — promising more — and Seungcheol is gone.

You let yourself ache for him for a minute. And then you act. 

You whip out your phone, dial a number. 

“This is Rocky Heights Mental Wellness Clinic. How can I help?” 

You smile at the chipper tone from the receptionist. “Hi,” you reply. “I’d like to set up a therapy appointment.”

[inksandpensblog]

The Box

I'm finally watching the episode! These are my stream-of-consciousness thoughts through my initial viewing. This isn't thought-out refined analysis, these are just the thoughts as I have them the moment they appear in my head.

They're getting better at the 3d running/walking animation.

Green being the one to notice details, like in The Village.

Civilization!

Green only drew one but then he just has three more? Cartoon magic or stickfigure magic? Or just saving time on a meta level.

This looks like a nice little toh that's a white-filled head, they're ALL white-filled heads (all look like freehanded circles though)

For a given value of "white," I guess, but they're all very light colors. And they all have head accessories. Interesting...

Okay it's kinda funny that nobody would talk to them and the truck is right there. Did they think the color quartet were giving handouts or something? None of them stopped to listen long enough XD

Ooh, so these are some kind of simulation chambers? Looks like they've simulated a desktop art program.

Hmm, so Orange's ability to just have whatever he wants manifest into existence with the stroke of a pencil is unique to him; these guys try the same motions and all they get are regular lines. (Also if Orange can do all that outside then why are they doing these experiments in the simulation chamber? Is it just for safety or can they not do it outside? Shady could use his toolbar outside just fine...)

Orange's drawings were alive, almost from the first line it seems. Before they even took their shape. These ones aren't.

I don't like how coldly they're treating my boy :(

you.

and then they don't even interact?? okay, so...Victim is pretty single-mindedly focused on whatever is about to happen with Chosen, and whatever it is doesn't involve Orange so Orange is irrelevant to him rn. Why bind him then? Where's he going? :(

he went in. by himself. I'm...not sure how to feel about that. surprised? it's not like the thing had a door. though looking at that control-display, it does look like there's something within the chamber itself that's also containing Chosen. Or is that just the bounding box? I think it's a bounding box actually. So this is also a simulation chamber. (this is giving me all sorts of questions about how the artboard recognizes the toolbar icons as graphics while the tools still retain their functions as tools and I'm gonna stop before I spiral)

oh, it did have a door

WAITAMINUTE why is Victim's bounding box 2d and Chosen's 3d???

...oh. so...Chosen's fire registers as a separate graphic from him, then. good to know??

wait what the- just altering the visual is enough to affect his ability in producing that power??

why did we just cut to the hunter sharpening their spear? don't like that. not while you're stealing all my boy's natural defenses.

that one lingering second after Chosen's lasers die out but before he turns around to face Victim is haunting. Bro's been trapped and depowered again.

Okay nitpick but Victim's head isn't changing shape every frame and it's driving me up the wall. Did he have some work done between the last installment and this one?

I can't tell if I'm supposed to laugh or not at Chosen just standing there and tanking all of Victim's hits, and honestly I like that I can't tell, the dissonance is fun. But putting that aside...Chosen just let the dude have at him like it was no big deal. He didn't actually fight back until he decided he'd had enough. I suppose he could've just been confused about why this guy was attacking him...but he doesn't even block or dodge. He doesn't defend himself, his hands aren't even up, he's not even really in a fighting stance, and it takes him a bit to even retaliate. Even after the first one, his body language is just "bruh why." Which. Is an interesting attitude to have when he's trapped and depowered and being punched by a stranger.

Chosen finally counters, and it cuts to the control panel outside, looks like they're about to raise some setting. I've gotta take a break for a meeting, here's my thought: Victim never left the art program, in AvA1. In a very literal sense, he spent his whole life in it. It's where he found all the things that enabled him to fight back. In a weird way, it makes sense that this is where he's powerful, that this is where he's comfortable fighting. (and I know my personal headcanons are about to get blown outta the water but I'm really glad that I was on the right track in regard to this idea. though something I hadn't ever imagined was that he'd rely on other people to supply those advantages instead of obtaining them himself)

Meeting over, back to the episode! (I wonder if the title of this episode refers to the white chamber Chosen is in or the actual bounding box. Given that the mere appearance of a bounding box in Wanted was enough for many of us to clue in to Victim's involvement, even before he appeared in-person at the end of the episode, I'm leaning that direction. Amazing that it only happened once in the series before Wanted and it was already enough of a legacy to make him recognizable. I'm now realizing that in AvA2 the first thing Chosen did even before attacking the cursor was destroy the bounding box. Also realizing that the bounding boxes in this chamber aren't visible, unlike in the test-chambers in the previous scenes.)

interesting...each of Vicitm's limbs are separate graphics with their own bounding boxes, which is how they looked in the Bloop animation course that Alan made, but it isn't how he was in AvA1. Though he was recognized as a single graphic just a few scenes ago, so that might not mean anything.

why, stop, dude we get it you're strong now you've proved your point stop beating him up-

oh good Chosen's still got his own strength, he's fighting ba- what- okay what, can't take what you dish out??

Ooh, I don't think we've seen Chosen actually throw fire like that (instead of just blasting and halting blasts) since the early episodes.

okay, nice to know that Victim actually can dodge on his own

...don't like how little time it took Chosen to start feeling exhaustion...

...don't like how much trepidation the lasso is giving me. that feels like one of the crueler things to use against Chosen; not because we've seen it used against him before (only Victim and Orange have used it themselves, and only Victim has had it used against him, and good grief Orange and Chosen still don't know how Victim is connected to Alan-) but just because...I really don't want him bound and leashed again, he's been through enough of that. still, I had predicted that we'd see him using the lasso at some point in AvA6. I'm not happy I was right. (man, back before we knew Victim would make a proper return to the series I used to love the idea of him using it again. it's like the clearest example of him outwitting the animator and taking his tools for his own use.)

NOT THE NECK- they've never gone there, I don't like this-

oh what they actually- I was not expecting that. whips haven't appeared in the series before. oh I really don't like this.

God he's crawling back- why-

I had to pause. either the group outside just did something with the controls that Victim wasn't anticipating, or...Chosen felt threatened enough to turn his powers on himself and encase himself in ice as a defense. fuck. someone get him out of there. no flight, can't fight, man was pushed far enough he literally resorted to freeze. The Chosen One. I don't think that's ever happened before.

Fuck, that's just too much, I can't even bring myself to feel excited about seeing the duplicates again. though it is good to know that my headcanon about him needing to be in an art program in order to duplicate himself ended up being accurate. we'll see if my headcanon about it being one Victim with five bodies (as opposed to being five Victims) holds up. if they even have a way to show any difference.

[sighs, pulls AvA1 up in another tab] yep, they're all there. lasso, hammer, extended thumbtack (though it doesn't look like a thumbtack here, which is interesting), whatever that chain-accordion thing is, and the ninja star. why are you doing this? man literally froze himself immobile to get you to stop torturing him, just leave him be.

...haHAHAHA! Oh that felt good, that made me smile. Hopefully this means Chosen has recuperated a bit.

the animation of Victim on fire was so nice I completely missed Chosen breaking the ice XD going back to catch that made me realize that the other Victim duplicates literally just...stood and watched the one burning...

don't let yourself get backed into a corner-

OH he escaped the hold, nice-

I didn't realize until the lasso came back that he'd gotten rid of it when he broke the ice :( but before that he actually uses his fire-breath again, which is always nice to see. interesting to see it concentrated in a thin stream instead of just roaring out like usual.

oh yikes why- him on fire-

...don't do it, man...

OH HE OWNED THAT, LET'S GO!!! Great thinking, Chosen! (heh, nothing about this situation remotely resembles that time Chosen grabbed the cursor and forced it to click him free, but I was reminded of it nonetheless. something about the tool being turned against the user, but in such a different way than Victim does it.)

OH HE- ...oh...I was gonna say oh he learned, he adapted enough that he predicted them flipping his fire and he used that- but then they just nullified it immediately...

Victim don't snap the rope like that, we don't need any more implications we already know you're planning to put him in a world of hurt, why can't you just leave him alone now, what are you trying to prove

hh, back to Orange I guess...

MATH SPOTTED, MATH SPOTTED-

oh! they're bringing him to the- okay that makes sense, if it only works when he does it then obviously the next step to figuring it out is gonna involve him.

wait was he- could he not move when the bounding box was picked up?? (also neat that he immediately got worried once he realized he's in a bounding box, dunno if that's because of what happened in the last episode or if it's just because...he spends a lot of time in an art program so he'd naturally be familiar with what they can do and what it means to be inside one)

...well, nice that they at least get his attention before picking him up

oh now you're being friendly, sure. yeah Orange ain't having it.

okay, [picks up pencil] [instant notetaking] was funny XD

aaw, it's swimming around him

oh it knows what the eraser means

...wait it wasn't an electric eel in the last episode-

hexagons- and the power flickered

okay Orange stumbling around trying to stay out of its way makes it clear that he isn't controlling this thing once he's finished drawing it, it's acting on its own. it...it really feels distressed.

hah, they're all cowering. losers.

oh, back to this.

...did you have to make it so personal, Victim?

a chair

...okay not sure why that happened, could Chosen not just...lean forward? I rewound to watch it again and realized he's exhausted again after the slow-mo ends (is that from the slow-mo itself or just his exertion from the fight before the slow-mo?) and he...doesn't even struggle when Victim lifts him by hand with a lasso to the neck. is...is he just ragdolling now? is he at the point where that's his best option for minimizing conflict?

...he is. he's ragdolling. fuck. (damn you cc!Alan for introducing ragdolling in a comedic short-)

...no? no what?? no, he doesn't know anything about the animator? (which we know isn't true, but why would he deny that?) or no, he isn't going to answer?

don't tie him up, please...

oh now he starts struggling?

...back to ragdolling. good grief, the way they animate his legs just swinging even though they can still touch the floor...

...heh, I appreciate his spirit, especially at this point, but...Chosen you kinda just put yourself in a worse position.

...oh, what is that? I don't think we've seen anything like that before. It's got the floppy disk that's used as the "save" icon in many applications, but it looks kinda like a headset.

...a VR headset specifically, I guess.

OH WHAT- okay rad animation, but WHAT

...oh fuck, I've always wondered if there was a way to see the data that would be a stick's memory. FUCK what are they gonna use this for

wait they're bring Orange here?! Or are they just passing on their way back to the cell? but why are they going back to the cell, was the eel too much for them??

...wait, what? signal lost, I assume because Chosen dislodged it enough to disconnect, and then...instead of picking up where it left off it jumps all the way back to Showdown?? was...was Showdown just on Chosen's mind? or is this the memory of him recalling it right before flying to alanspc to entreat Orange's aid? ...or...are memories from beyond the sky-barrier not compatible? that doesn't make sense...

what's with everyone's reactions to Second's powers?

...I forgot Orange's cell is in here. whoops.

oh this is how he finds out??

hands first ("I did that??") and then his eyes ("Chosen was right??")

...and of course. I expected they'd lock him down with extra security as soon as they realized, but. poor guy.

(dammit I purposefully refrained from making a "dark mode" joke, you didn't have to go and put it on the damn control screen)

...and even after that (which, judging by Victim's reaction, even he hadn't known about Second's powers), the animator is still Victim's priority.

oh, this isn't just any clip of the cursor's involvement in Showdown, this is specifically while Yellow was rendering the cursor in.

and then they immediately pan to Yellow which means that observation is actually gonna be relevant, FUCK-

OH FUCK THE WANTED POSTERS

("earnings growth," so they actually do have a business element to them)

aaand the security cameras caught them peeking out of the truck, they literally just started printing the posters and they've already located Yellow-

that fight is mesmerizing. we haven't seen one like this before, as far as direction and setting. plus it's really interesting to see how the four respond. I might look deeper into that later. also that was a cool transition.

and Yellow is dragged off. The story has never had one of the quartet singled out in-universe by the plot like this before. they aren't even apprehending the others.

...of all the sticks to have a lighter, I never thought it would be Victim.

to be continued. good grief.

I have to eat before work so I'll think on all this and say more later.

[doublydaring]

the great thing about gender is that you can do anything at any time and there's absolutely no way to be yourself incorrectly. the point of life is trying things and seeing what makes you happy, and what makes you happy is probably going to change a lot! but also if it doesn't that's a learning experience too! sending love <3

first of all anon, bless your heart.

bizarre rant with way too much personal information below the cut. SORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRY!

second, because at the ripe old age of zero years old i was a wise old sage with a level headed autism that put me perfectly at the intersection of considerate and above the petty worries of the world i have been telling forlorn transgenders this over the phone since day one (no joke someone I hadn't spoken to in five years called me up the other day to have me talk them through softening their transition, its okay to be nonbinary guys) but ack! sometimes its so hard to take your own advice.

I have gained some weight in the last year or so and I just can't seem to get over me looking ooooh just so slightly off, to me, like I feel like I don't look like myself. I don't know.

Testosterone's largest impact on my life was it's role as an appetite stimulant, before I started testosterone I lived in a constant state of nausea, and it basically cured me of that. It was huge instead of going to bed anxious every night that I was going to throw up I slept like a baby, it also helped me to start working through the main symptoms of my ARFID. I literally called it a miracle drug to so many people, it changed my life.

But! I don't know if I still want to be on it. It's been almost three years and I've suddenly started having problems with my dosage, I've been off and on it trying to figure things out and I don't know, it just got me thinking, what if I don't want to do this anymore.

I do look different than I used to, or at least I think I do. I feel like I don't look like myself. I don't know.

Part of me feels like I'm just giving up, because transitioning socially has been very difficult for me. Female terms feel comforting in their familiarity, masculine ones always feel deliberate and effortful. I want to be beautiful, I want to be desirable. Does going off testosterone simply represent a submission to societal pressure, to finally giving in and trying to be normal.

In my junior year of high school I had a crush on a blond man. I had no chance with him, he was tall and gorgeous and smart and rich and a senior and it just was not happening, but I sort of put a pause on my transition that year as I got to know him, and tried to be more feminine, more conventionally attractive. It didn't work. I am not that. I cannot be that. I can't! It is something that I am not capable of, it is something I have never been capable of. I feel like as soon as I hit puberty it was over for me. I got gross. And that's terrible, that's so terrible, that's a terrible thing to feel and a terrible way to think but I cannot help it because I feel like that is the input that I am receiving from the outside world. I just had this conversation with a couple of friends but it really is ethnic trauma. My mother got a nose job at 14 and extensive laser hair removal to dull her ethnic traits, traits that she then passed on to me, traits that were amplified by my dad's genetics, traits that she implicitly taught me were ugly and undesirable and needed to be changed. And then I had the nerve to be autistic too, pick a struggle, really.

WHATEVER basically I am fucking fiending for sexual validation from cis men that I am too cowardly to actually go out and get so instead I'm just going to bitch and moan on here. I am not going to detransition because their is nothing to detransition back to, I was never a girl, but so much of me wishes I could be, I want more desperately than anything to be a beautiful and desirable woman. I thought because I couldn't cut it as a girl I should try being a boy but I don't know, it feels unnatural. A bitch needs to get on estrogen or SOMETHING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[sanjoongie]

Outlaws with Benefits

My Submission for Outlaw: The Project hosted by @ssaboala 🐎 Pairing: Outlaw! Yeosang x Named Outlaw! Reader (f) Aurora

🐎 Genre: Futuristic Western au, coworkers with benefits trope, toxic love

🐎 Word Count: 4,592

🐎 Warnings: gunshot wounds, washing and fixing a wound, descriptions of intense pain, mentions of alcohol, nipple play, begging, finger sucking, oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), penetrative sex without a barrier, f and m orgasm

🐎 Summary: when you and Yeosang get separated from the other outlaws during a job-gone-wrong to steal some new hover bikes, the two of you find somewhere to hide while it all blows over. But when you sustain an injury and Yeosang helps you strip, one thing leads to another...

🐎 Rated:18+ MDNI, smut with no plot :)

🐎 Dedication: @flurrys-creativity for giving me this wonderful idea. @mejuii & @downtoamagicalland doing the best beta-ing a beta can do 💖

You felt like your heart was beating a thousand miles per minute but if you didn't love the feeling you never would have become an outlaw. Running from the law, stealing what you needed, living your own life that you dictated, that was how you wanted to live. Even if that meant a few failed attempts at stealing.

That was the predicament you were in currently. The group of outlaws that you were with were talented, be that in sneaking into corporate run warehouses or hacking an electric run lock, but they were also very cocky and also sometimes dumb.

"Did you really have to stop to flirt and brag to the barmaid that we were going to steal the bikes?" San shouted over the rush of the wind, his helmet having been cracked during your flight.

Wooyoung got a smug look on his face as his eyes scanned the horizon for objects to avoid as you raced away from the marshalls. "She sucked my dick good though."

Hongjoong grabbed his favorite goat bobblehead that he had sentimentally attached to his bike and chucked it at Wooyoung's head. The younger ducked and stuck his tongue out at the elder from underneath his helmet, however. 

"Are you saying we lost our bikes because you wanted to get your dick wet?" Yeosang bellowed into the comms. 

Mingi was busy listening to his "I shot the Sheriff" running-away-from-the-law inspired playlist and almost veered into your bike. You smacked him on the shoulder before he bashfully veered back into his lane.

"They're getting closer," Jongho warned, always remaining the level headed one.

"I think we should split up," Seonghwa suggested, eyes moving to the screen that his rear camera fed into.

"The last time we split up I was in jail for three days before you sprung me out!" Yunho protested.

Wooyoung winked in Yunho's direction. "That's because you're so pretty, they wouldn't let us take you back!"

Hongjoong cursed under his breath. "Cut the shit, we're splitting up," he commanded, agreeing with Seonghwa. "Wooyoung, Seonghwa, and San head to the Wave safehouse. Yeosang, Aurora, and Mingi, I want you to circle back to the warehouse and see how they doubled up security. Jongho and Yunho, you're with me. I want to plan our next step. Now--"

The marshals were so close that one actually managed to hit you, your skin burning as the laser revolver barely skimmed you. "Fuck," You cursed and severely veered to the right as a result of clamping your hand over your wound.

Yeosang, who was closest to you in the formation, broke off to follow you, as per the rules when someone got injured. "I got Aurora!"

"I bet you got her," San murmured under his breath.

"Mingi, you--" Hongjoong was cut off once again as comms were cut off. The damn marshalls had a scrambler. 

Yeosang pulled up level with your bike so you could meet his eyes through the helmet. The comms may be dead but there were still hand signals, that you two often used while surveillancing a potential target. He motioned that you two would lose the marshalls and he knew a place the two of you could tuck yourselves into. You nodded and took Yeosang's lead.

The damn marshals were stubborn and stuck to you two like flies to a horse's ass, but with some tricky maneuvering, perhaps an incredibly cool jump that shot you two over a canyon, and some quick thinking, you two managed to shake the marshals. 

Yeosang had found a junkyard, one he had gone to previous to the mission to steal the bikes. He had needed an outdated horn sound that would pull the guards away in a distraction, and much to San's delight, was the music to the dukes of hazzard, an old country classic. The plan would have worked, if not for Wooyoung's dumb ass bragging.

The junkyard was typically filled with hover vehicles of all proclivities. But the best part was that Yeosang had discovered the perfect hidey hole. It wasn't much, a simple transport truck with the unfortunate company name Uranus' Chocolate. It was big enough to hold you, Yeosang and your two bikes and inconspicuous enough that no one would think you two had hid there.

Once everything was tucked away and Yeosang had closed the doors as best as he could, the light stripes that were at the bottom corners of the container flickered on. You leaned heavily back against the side of the container and slid your back until your butt met the ground. You tried to lift your arm but hissed at the pain. Lazer wounds were a bitch. You wouldn't bleed out but without any nanomeds, you weren't likely to build back up the muscles you needed to actually ride your bike.

"Hey, don't worry about it," Yeosang reassured you, "We can leave your bike and double."

You winced. You did not want to leave your beloved bike behind. Sure, you had planned on trading it in for the newer class hoverbike but you hadn't planned on ditching your old one completely. It had gotten you through a lot of jobs with it.

Yeosang rolled his eyes and sat down beside you, on your injured arm's side. "We'll come back for it, obviously. God, you're so sentimental."

"Sorry I can't turn off my emotions like you," You scoffed. 

Yeosang's eyes scanned your wound. "You should take off your shirt."

You made a face of bewilderment. "I gotta pay for a shot for San, damn he was right."

"We should at least wrap up your wound," Yeosang ignored your barbed comment, "You still keep your flask on you?"

"Oh!" You reached into the inside of your vest pocket and pulled out the small heart shaped flask. "Of course I've got Snow."

Yeosang's face pulled into a look of mild disgust. "Can't believe you named your flask after a video game character."

"Listen, Snow is hot, okay and he was in love. Don't shit talk Snow!"

Yeosang made a 'give me' motion to take the flask. "You strip and we'll wash your wound first."

You didn't have anything under your button up shirt and vest. Had you used up all your courage fleeing the marshals or could you--Yeosang lifted an eyebrow in question and you decided fuck it. You unbuttoned your vest and then threw that to the floor. Next was your button down, undone a lot slower. You watched as Yeosang's eyes followed your fingers trail and eyes widened a fraction when he saw no underclothes. His eyes shot to the ceiling out of decency. Interesting. 

However, you were having trouble with your sleeve on your injured arm. Your whimpers of pain trickled out of your mouth unbidden and you hated appearing weak before a man who was notorious for never folding under pressure.

"I can help." Yeosang offered. When you didn't answer him and cursed again, he changed his statement. "Let me help."

His fingers gently folded your shirt down your arm, careful to pull upwards so the fabric wouldn't touch your wound and then you were naked from the waist up. You were about to reach down and grab your vest, at least that would cover you up decently and keep your arms out, but Yeosang's previously gentle fingers dug into the flesh of your arm and stopped you.

"Wash it, first. Then you can cover those drool worthy tits of yours," Yeosang insisted.

Your mouth moved to a flat line. "Get a good eyeful, did you?" You used your free arm to cover your tits instead.

Yeosang's eyes didn't leave your wound as he carefully tipped the flask over it. You cried out pitifully as the pain was indescribable. "You're the one that didn't ask me to look away."

"Oh, a blatant invitation, was it? What's next, your dick slips into my cunt because it just so happened to be in the way?" You snapped.

"Aurora," Yeosang scolded you, "You're in pain and you're naked, I get it. Snap at me if you want but do not pretend that my dick would slip into your cunt."

Your face screwed up incredulously. "Excuse you? Was that some kind of humble brag that your dick is big?"

Yeosang tsked at you and poured more of the alcohol over your wound. You turned your head away, willing yourself to not get sick from the pain. The last thing you needed was to throw up on Yeosang while you were at it. 

Yeosang took advantage of your focus that had turned away from him and ripped a strip of your discarded shirt off, but not before tucking your flask into his back pocket. He tied it tightly around your arm while he replied. "That wasn't a humble brag."

"Are you done now, Doctor?" You demanded tonelessly.

"We'll get some nanomeds when we get back to the city. In the meantime, you and I both know that you're not getting that vest on without my help."

"I'd rather sit here for the next eight hours with my arm over my boobs than let you put your hands on me again," You spat, still feeling raw from the pain of your arm, that continued to pang and remind you of its presence. 

"Suit yourself. I like a little cleavage while I wait out a storm." Yeosang settled back against the container's side easily.

You sighed heavily. You really didn't want to sit with your arm over your boobs for eight hours. "Can you keep your eyes to yourself?" You relented.

"Well that's sad, considering how pretty they are," Yeosang lamented, "But I can."

"Then please…?" You let your words hang in the air, the implication obvious you wanted help.

"...please, what?" Yeosang looked like he had no idea what you were talking about.

You, somehow, managed to set aside your pride. "Please, help me put my vest on."

Yeosang tilted his head like he was waiting for you to finish a sentence that clearly had a period at the end of it. It was your turn to roll your eyes. "Yeosang. Please."

"Of course," He agreed and stood up again. 

He bent over to pick up your vest and held it carefully so that nothing touched the wound that he had finished dress and cover. Next was the tough part. He tipped his eyes upwards again, but this time a faint smile pulled his lips upwards. 

"Get that smile off your face, Kang Yeosang," You barked.

Yeosang moved behind you with a quiet chuckle. You let go of your boobs and turned your arm behind you so that you could put it through the other arm of the vest. When nothing happened. "Yeosang!"

"Sorry, got distracted by your ass back here. It looks nice on a bike from behind but this way it looks smackable."

You will yourself to not lose your cool again. Yeosang helped you slip the rest of the vest on and then you were doing up the buttons as quickly as you could. "I'll be taking Snow back, thank you."

You held your hand out, waiting for your flask but it never came. Instead, Yeosang pulled it out from his back pocket, tipped his head back and shot the rest of it down his throat. You couldn't even protest, you were so flabbergasted at his actions. Only then did Yeosang deposit back to you your flask, wiping his lips with his thumb.

"I fuck better when I've taken a shot," He informed you nonchalantly.

"I'm the one in pain, Yeosang, what the hell?" You pressed. You were going to ignore that comment when you already knew the difference. 

“The alcohol isn’t going to help with the pain,” He educated you, “What you do need is a distraction and I’m going to give it to you. I’ve been doing good so far, baiting you and keeping your focus on me and your anger instead of your pain.”

Shit. He had a point. A damn good one at that. Besides, what else were you going to do while you waited for the heat of the law to cool down?

“Yeosang…”

“Remember our first stakeout?” Yeosang interrupted you.

You sighed heavily. “We said we’d never talk about that again.”

Your first stakeout with this outlaw group, when you were freshly wanted, had been so exciting that you had fucked Yeosang in victory. The two of you had been in an office building across from the instrument factory that manufactured a particular violin that was going to be the perfect vessel for some hacking codes to get into a rich, high society individuals safe. Yeosang was assigned with you for surveillance and lookout. Neither of you had shed many clothes, Yeosang had simply held your legs over his arms and fucked you up against the window of the highrise.

You had been so embarrassed afterwards, shame creeping up your neck for fucking someone you were supposed to work with, on your first job nonetheless! So you had sworn Yeosang to secrecy and never spoke of it again. 

Except… there had been another job, the biggest heist your outlaw group had pulled off. The take had been so much money that Hongjoong had rented out an entire whorehouse so that everyone could drink and fuck to their hearts content. You had been about to go into a pretty whore's room, New had been his name, but when you opened the door, Yeosang was leaning against the headboard of the bed, arms crossed behind his head. You were buzzed and full of yourself, that you had made an offhand comment that you had paid for a whore's services so you had better received a whore's fuck. Yeosang had taken that as a challenge and ensured that you couldn't walk that day.

And so began the back and forth situationship with Kang Yeosang. Sometimes you fucked, sometimes you ignored each other's presence, sometimes you fought like cat and dogs. It was… strained at best. 

Hence the state of affairs currently.

"There's nothing wrong with distracting yourself with me," Yeosang made his case, "In fact, I'm probably the best one to distract you. If I recall, you get quite dumb with my dick inside of you."

You winced for what felt like the hundredth time today. You couldn't argue with anything Yeosang had been saying. And did you truly want to sit here and wallow in pain and snap at Yeosang or would you rather get fucked dumb by him?

You licked your lips. "You realize this is toxic and stupid of us, right?"

Yeosang shrugged, once again showing just how well he could keep his emotions separated from the situation. "Fuck it. We are outlaws, after all. Don't you have to be a little stupid and toxic to enjoy this life?"

"Well aren't you a wealth of wisdom," You muttered under your breath.

"Aurora," Yeosang said with that no nonsense tone he used on you during missions.

"Alright!" You shouted at him but also at yourself. "Still wish I had some alcohol though."

"C'mere," Yeosang said softly and wrapped his arms around your waist.

This close, you had nothing else to do but study Yeosang's features. His golden eyes were doing the same, white liner around his eyes, glimmering with the reflective ability to keep the sun from blinding him during surveillance. Your eyes moved across the planes of his face, tracing the gold chain that covered a scar he had gotten during shootout when the marshals had found the Hala Safehouse. His hair was getting long, despite Hongjoong offering to cut it for him. You suspected it was because one drunken night you had told him if he dared cut it you would use the same scissors on his pretty face and give him a new scar.

"Open your mouth," Yeosang commanded next. You did and immediately put his thumb in your mouth, easy with his fingerless gloves."Suck, don't lick," He ordered next and you did that. You hollowed out your cheeks and focused your spit to swirl around Yeosang's digit. With his other hand, he easily undid the button to your vest. He used the wet digit to swirl around your nipple, while the other groped your other breast, squeezing and massaging it to his hearts delight.

"Swear to god you have the prettiest tits I have ever seen," Yeosang swore quietly, eyes glued to your chest. His mouth fell open, almost muscle instinct, as if he wanted to put one of your nipples in his mouth. 

He made you suck his other thumb and he did the same thing to your other breasts, neglecting nothing. You could feel the heat of your lust pool in your pants. The idea popped into Yeosang's head just as you wished you had been smarter about your outfit today. "You don't have any underwear on, do you?"

You pressed your lips together and looked away. "Yeaahhhhh," You stretched out the word. 

Yeosang groaned, his head falling back slowly. "Why do you do this to me?"

"It wasn't for you," You whispered.

Yeosang turned your head back to him. "Say that again."

You felt that shame that always burned through you when Yeosang made you set aside your pride for him. "I thought you were going to fuck me on your new bike, sue me."

"Well, we didn't get the new bikes," Yeosang quirked one eyebrow, a habit that only made the wetness between your legs gush, "But I can do it on my current one."

You whined and it wasn't because of your pain anymore. "These ones lean like the old motorbikes--Yeosang, think this through!"

The outlaw began to press you backwards towards his bike. "Turn around, hands on the seat."

You swallowed but there was no moisture in your mouth. You did as you were told and that's when Yeosang's hands snaked around your body and played with your nipples. You watched as he pinched and pulled and made you moan with the way he handled your breasts. 

He did eventually abandon your tits for your ass, which tended to be his preference. "We're going to go back out there and get those new bikes, darlin', and then I'm going to fuck you on it, just like you wanted. You can hold the handlebars and push this sweet ass out--" Yeosang accentuated his comment about your ass by smacking it gently, "And I'll fuck you like I was picturing when we were fleeing the marshals."

"Yeosang," You pouted.

"I'll take care of you, darlin', don't worry," Yeosang assured you.

Then the bastard took a grip of your ass and ripped a hole in your pants with the force of pulling the soft, worn leather apart. Before you could even protest, or worry about riding a bike after this, Yeosang was crouched on the balls of his feet, face so close to your heat that you could feel his breath on the wet flesh there. Your legs almost buckled when his tongue found your cunt. He took long, measured licks, from clit to hole. His rough tongue would slide along your clit, swirl in your hole and then repeat. Soon enough you were rocking back onto his tongue, looking for more stimulation. Yeosang gave it to you. With his tongue stuck out past his lips and looking to touch his chin, he curled his tongue and moved his face up and down to make you come with quickly, like he knew how to do after having access to your body so many times. You came undone for him so damn quickly, that shame was back again. Why were you so down bad for this man?

"Good," Yeosang said in a raspy voice. "You know how wet you have to be for me, right? Do you think you're prepped? You want me to finger you into another orgasm?"

The image of Yeosang fucking you with his ring and middle finger, scissoring you for his length flashed across your mind. "Puh-please," You stuttered. 

"Please what, darlin'?" Yeosang posed.

"Please prep me, Yeosang. Fuck me with your fingers, I need something inside of me."

Yeosang chuckled. "Why does the begging always sound prettier from your lips?"

You stiffened at the implication that Yeosang was comparing you to others. You almost snarled before Yeosang cupped you from behind, having discarded his glove, and inserted his middle finger into you first. Your fingers dug into the leather seat of Yeosang's powered down hoverbike. "Yeo-Yeo!"

"Does that feel good, darlin'? You like when I fuck you with my fingers, don't you? Love when I stretch this puss for my dick, right? Remember when your tiny puss barely took my dick? You whimpered and cried through the whole thing as I stretched you. Your poor abused pussy really got fucked that night, huh? All those tears because you had never felt so fucking full before, had you?" 

Your nipples tightened at Yeosang's words. "Mo-more please."

"Oh, eager for my dick that you want two fingers already?" Yeosang questioned. "Want my dick that badly? I bet you compare my dick to all others, don't you? Nobody fills you like I do. No one fucks you like I do. No one makes you come like I do."

Yeosang introduced another finger and it had you squirming with the sensation. He steadied you with a hand on your hip as he spread his fingers to push your warm walls back. Even if you enjoyed the sensation of his two fingers inside of you, it was nothing like his cock. Yeosang's cock was curved for her pleasure, and even when he fucked you from behind, the curve still managed to push along your gspot and give you amazing pleasure.

"You already came once, can you come again for me, darlin'?" Yeosang asked you.

"Please, Yeo, wanna come again," You whimpered. 

He leaned over your body and you shivered when the cold metal of his long jacket pressed against the bare skin of your back that was left from your vest. "Then come," He said simply.

Your entire body shuddered as another orgasm hit you, again, seeming too soon for something that took other men a lot longer to coax from you. Was it the familiarity of your body or was it because Yeosang really was that good?

You were panting and felt sweat cooling all over your body. Yeosang really was keeping your distracted. "See how well I know your body? Should let me fuck you all the time. Should just move your stuff into my room. Should fuck you in front of Sannie so that he knows that this body is mine."

The next image of Yeosang wretching your head backwards, holding you in place as he fucked you as you braced against a chair that San was in ripped through your imagination. That sounded a little too good. The true problem was, Yeosang's fingers were still inside of you, so he felt you clench down at the thought.

Yeosang chuckled again. "Oh darlin'," He sighed, "Just admit it. I know you well."

"I suppose you do," You said, closed lipped.

The head of Yeosang's dick prodded at your beyond drenched folds. He rubbed against them, acquiring your wetness over the head and then he started to push. Even accommodating his head was always an ordeal. Still, Yeosang was patient, reading your every sigh and whimper. Once his head was in, however, the rest of his shaft pushed in easily. The tease against your g spot was close to overstim but not painful. 

Yeosang pulled your shoulders back so that your back was against his t-shirt clad chest. "Rest your arms. Let me do the work."

His fingers circled your waist, and began to fuck up into your pussy. The sharp upper angle he seemed to be able to do with his hips had your eyes rolling into the back of your head almost immediately. The repetition of a slow pull out and a sharp upper thrust into your cunt had your brain zoning out. You didn't feel any pain, all you could feel was how your cunt was feeling good enough to leave earth behind. 

Curse words fell from your lips, followed by a crescendo of 'yeah yeah yeah's as Yeosang's thick cock fucked you dumb. Eventually, the soft swaying of your tits drew his hands back, cupping one of your breasts and playing with the nipple almost absent mindedly as he snapped his hips forward again and again. 

"Yeo, Yeosa-sang," You managed to groan as thrusts almost interrupted your air flow.

"Gonna come again? You're so greedy for my dick, Aurora. Just admit it. I'm perfect for you. Stop denying it and trying to keep it hidden from the others. They don't care who you fuck so why should they care if it's me? Be my outlaw, darlin'."

You nodded swiftly, words lost, and this time Yeosang didn't insist you use them. He damn well knew that you were beyond the point of anything other than screaming his name. 

This time, using your tits to hold onto, he shifted his angle and somehow hit that spot inside of you in a way that urged you instantly through your third orgasm of the day. Your throat was raw from screaming his name. The minute your orgasm was complete, you felt all energy leave your body. 

You leaned down against the bike seat, your good arm curled under you, as Yeosang fucked you through your orgasm to chase his own. His hands held your ass cheeks apart so he could watch his dick disappear inside of you, and soon he was gone too, fucking through his orgasm, allowing for all his cum to spurt inside of you. His deep groan as he did so was enough to make you clench down on him one final time. 

Yeosang practically had to carry you bridal style where he collapsed against the side of the container, cradling you to his chest. You snuggled your head into his chest and he placed his chin on top of your head. "You better fucking remember that you're mine now," He practically growled.

"That's all I'm going to be able to think about when they heal my arm wound, Yeosang," You said serenely, completely content in your post-sex state.

"You should get a little gold chain like mine," Yeosang suggested. You swore you heard a pout in his tone but you must have been too tired to be picking that up correctly.

"That's the worst proposal I've ever heard," You joked, "Matching chain scar cover ups?"

"Mine," Yeosang insisted.

The two of you fell asleep in the container, nothing waking you up until San, Wooyoung and Hongjoong found you at dawn. Yeosang's long coat covered you both and San clucked his tongue in annoyance.

"How fucking hard is it to get two dumb ass lovers together?" San complained.

"Apparently, really hard," Wooyoung muttered, folding his arms across his chest.

"Think they realized it?" Hongjoong wondered, a soft smile pulling his lips at the sight of you two sleeping together.

"Nah," San said, waving a hand to dismiss you and Yeosang, "They'll be happy with some new bikes and be none the wiser."

Wooyoung banged on the side of the container to wake you and Yeosang abruptly. "Wake up, lovebirds, I want a new bike!" He yelled.

Hongjoong looked at the sky like he was looking for a higher power to help him with his gang.

[tgmsunmontue]

Another Time (Chapter 11/14)

ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT NINE TEN

Summary: Jake wakes up in Rooster's body ~30 hours post-Mission and they have to deal with it. They're adults. Apparently.

(Posting on Tumblr, chapter a day until it's complete (currently 14 chapters already written), after it's complete I will post it on AO3 once a day until it's completed there as well).

Odd chapter = Jake POV, Even chapter = Bradley POV

ELEVEN

                Jake’s never been shaved by anyone before, and he hadn’t thought that Rooster was going to do the whole thing, but apparently that’s the treatment he’s getting. Given some privacy while he uses the bathroom and has a quick shower using a crutch to maintain balance he looks at the offending ankle and it looks… less swollen. That’s a good sign. He doesn’t waste time, is perfunctory and tries not to think about the fact that he’s running his hands all over Rooster’s body. Another time he tells himself mentally.

                Stepping out of the shower he isn’t surprised to find Rooster waiting for him, holding out a towel. He’s also placed a pile of his own clothes, including his service khakis, on the sink and he accepts the help getting dressed in silence. Rooster fastens the moonboot over the pants but stops him from putting his shirt on, directing him to sit on a chair he’s brought in from the other room.

                “You do this often?”

                “Often enough. Sit your ass down and put that foot up.”

                Jake gives a sarcastic little salute and Rooster responds with the middle finger but he does as he’s told and settles himself, can see their reflections in the mirror. Seeing his body and his reflection is another level of weirdness he hadn’t expected. Then Rooster is wrapping his face in a warm wet towel and Jake lets out a quick breath. Trust right? Okay. He’s got this. The towel comes off after only a minute or so and then Rooster is rubbing his face with something that smells like coconut oil and he quirks up an eyebrow, can’t resist.

                “Lubing me up Bradshaw?”

                “Another time…”

                “That better be a promise.”

                “You know it…”

                Then there’s a fucking brush, lather on his face and he wants to make a comment about Rooster being a grandpa but he’s feeling tight and hot, aware that all of Rooster’s attention is on him with laser focus and it’s a huge fucking turn on is what it is. His eyes drop closed and he lets himself just feel, the almost too-gentle swipe of the razor down his face, the sound as it’s rinsed off, then repeated.

                It’s quiet and methodical. Soothing. And far more erotic than he ever thought shaving could be. He can feel the heat between their bodies as Rooster stands close. Then his face is being wrapped in the warm wet towel, more oil and he’s half-hard. This surely has to be a him thing and not a response Rooster has to shaving himself. The razor goes in the opposite direction now, and he feels fingers brush over the scars on Rooster’s cheek and neck, checking for smoothness he guesses and he swallows, wants, needs, to break the silence.

                “How did you get those anyway?”

                “Uh. I don’t think now is a good time to tell you…”

                “What do you mean?”

                “Uh, if I say I got them shaving…”

                “What? You cut yourself that badly? How?”

                “I was using a straight edge razor.”

                “Uh. You’re not using a straight edge razor now?”

                “No, I’m using a safety. Stop being a dick.”

                Jake gives him a wink, because this bickering between them feels good in a gentler way than their previous interactions. He wants more of it.

                “How old were you?”

                “Not old enough to actually be shaving, think I was ten or eleven. Mom and Mav freaked. There was a lot of blood.”

                His face is being rinsed with a very cool wet cloth and it feels refreshing after all the warmth, there’s some lotion and then a dry towel patting his face. Then Rooster is wielding a comb in one hand and a pair of scissors in the other, staring at him intently.

                “Don’t move or talk…”

                He swallows, doesn’t even nod, feels the teeth of the comb through the moustache and then the cool metal of the scissors press against his upper lip, the sound of the blades rasping against each other loud in his ears and the snipping sound of little bits of hair being cut. His nose feels itchy and he resists the urge to twitch. There’s nothing else for him to do except close his eyes and let himself feel. He feels cared for. Cherished in a way he’s never been before, not from anyone outside his family.

                “There… back to respectable levels.”

                He opens his eyes and moves his lips experimentally and it does feel much better, no prickly bits digging into the corner. Definitely an improvement.

                “I’ll have to do your hair if we’re talking about looking respectable.”

                “Sure thing, I tried yesterday but…” he shrugs and Jake reaches for his hand, tugs him close.

                “You looked good.”

                “Of course you think that. I’m in your body.”

                Jake shrugs, because that’s not what he means but Rooster can take it that way. He’s always admired Rooster’s easy level of confidence, even when they were each other’s throats. Jake isn’t shy, knows his own worth, but he doesn’t feel like he oozes confidence in quite the same way that Rooster does. He’d seen the difference yesterday, and the fact that Bob had instantly known just confirms it for him.

                “Okay, you’re all done. Now I need to shower and you can tell me what you do with your hair to make it look all…”

                “Perfect?” Jake asks with a grin and laughs at Rooster’s eye roll.

                He pulls on the uniform shirt and uses the crutches to get back to the bedroom, leaves Rooster to shower, which he does quickly enough that Jake is still standing in the bedroom balancing with the crutches and looking at the one shelf of the bookcase that isn’t just books. There’s a photo of Rooster’s parents on what must be their wedding, and then another with a very young Rooster and it hits him then just how young Rooster must have been when his dad died. Fuck he’s an asshole sometimes.

                “You finally coherent enough to be nosy huh?” Rooster asks, and he’s wearing underwear and nothing else, rubbing his hair dry and Jake pulls a face. Pat dry he thinks, pat, not rub.

                “You were a cute kid…”

                “You mean I’m not cute now?”

                “Aged like fine bourbon,” he says, and he means it. Suddenly and deeply he wants Rooster to know, that he’s sorry for being an asshole before, that he likes him, that he wants to try spending the rest of his life with him. Because the idea of not makes something within him clench with the same fear he’d felt when he’d heard Dagger 2 is hit and then the fear again as he’d pushed and pushed his jet to reach him, not enough time to do anything except think about seeing him alive alive alive.

                “I’m sorry for bringing up your dad. It was an asshole move.”

                “Yeah, it was. But also if we’re apologizing for being assholes then I need to apologize about saying you’d lead everyone into an early grave. You know I don’t actually think that right?”

                Jake shrugs, because he knows in training simulations he’s got a reputation, but he’s never done it in actuality. But he guesses it doesn’t help people trust him when they can’t know that he wouldn’t ever risk their lives. He huffs quietly, realizing that it’s the whole reason they train so incessantly, to just be able to respond and he guesses if his first response in training is always to think of himself first then maybe he’s more deserving of his callsign than he thought. Maybe that’ll change now. The Navy rumor mill is a ferocious and unsatiable beast.

                “Jake. You’re a good pilot. Still an asshole, but that doesn’t stop me… liking you. In fact I kind of like that bit more than I probably should. In the, uh, interest of being open and honest.”

                “Fucking couples therapy…”

                “Yeah.”

                “I like your asshole self as well,” Jake states and then swallows, his throat tight. “When I heard that you’d been hit I don’t think I’ve ever been so terrified in my life and I didn’t, still don’t really, know how to, uh, process all that. If we’re being open and honest.”

                “I don’t think we’re meant to have processed it yet. I sure as fuck haven’t. God. We’ve still got to get through the debrief. Mav is being evasive as fuck and I just…”

                “Come here…”

                “What?”

                “We’re going to hug Bradshaw, come here.”

                Rooster laughs but steps close and Jake lets him take some of his weight and the job of keeping him balanced, drops the crutches and wraps his arms around Rooster’s chest and holds tight, tries to convey that he’s there, for everything, because he thought that someone had died. Rooster though is dealing with the fact that he probably thought Mav had died, and then was probably pretty sure he was going to die himself and yeah okay, they’re both pretty fucked up.

                “You give good hugs.”

                “I’m good at everything Rooster, you should know that by now.”

                “Mmm. I look forward to finding out.”

                “I look forward to showing you… although, do you not have clothes?”

                “You’re wearing them.”

                “Ha ha. Javy brought my bag. Come on man, I have a reputation to maintain.”

                “Yeah you do…”

                The kiss is sudden, harder than any of their previous gentle brushes of lips and he digs his fingers into the bare skin of Rooster’s back, holding him tightly, his balance a little unsteady as Bradley shifts against him and wraps an arm around Jake’s waist. A hand through his hair and there are fingernails scraping over his scalp and it sends little zinging jolts down his spine and he groans, pushes himself against Bradley and slides his tongue against his lips, catches Bradley’s bottom lip between his teeth and tugs slightly; savors the grunt and roll of hips. God. He feels so good pressed against him and he sucks in a lungful of air and pulls away, leaving his hands on bare skin, thumbs rubbing soft circles.

                “We are going to have a lot of fun with the later darlin’,” Jake says, and he means it as a promise, hopes Bradley takes it as one.  

                “Fucking hell…”

                Jake chuckles and makes a grabby hand motion for the crutches, which Rooster obediently retrieves for him from the floor.

                “I’m going to find clothes, you go out and help yourself to whatever breakfast you want. I’m also going to bravely go and try and wake Phoenix.”

                “You going to do that in your underwear?”

                “Uh, yeah. Good point. No.”

                He watches Bradley go off in search of clothes, his duffel actually in the bedroom all along and he worries for a second about Rooster finding something that he might be embarrassed about before realizing that there isn’t anything. He makes his way to the kitchen slowly, navigating the furniture easily enough. The ankle is sore, but the pain isn’t so intense anymore, which he’s relieved about. He can hear Rooster talking softly to Phoenix, her louder grumpier words in reply and he wonders if she’s hungover or just not a morning person. When she comes out to the kitchen he quickly decides that it may in fact be both and he shares a slightly worried look with Rooster before realizing that she doesn’t hate him as much as she used to so he might actually be safe. Rooster is putting cereal into a bowl and sliding it over to her, along the milk. He’s pressing buttons on the coffee maker and Jake likes watching him be all… domestic.

                “Raisin bran? I’m not Mav,” Phoenix grumbles, poking at the bowl.

                “It’s that or nothing. Coffee is coming.”

                “No… why can’t you make me another omelet? Or pancakes?”

                “Because. Eat the damned raisin bran Nat.”

                Jake eats his bowl with a quirk of his lips, not brave enough to make any comment and not quite willing to test his theory that Rooster would make him something if he just asked.

CHAPTER 12

[hearthown]

Jameson - One Hell of A Shot

[requested by @aria-1105] - the ff begins during the time Jamie skipped school to find the next clue in the game (TIG) and before finding the clue on the Winchester rifle (it's kinda like an AU).

The Black Wood.

Jameson inhaled the scent of the forest - the fresh air, the wood, the metal tang of the grass. He knew that he should’ve been searching for clues, clues from the latest game his grandfather had left them.

He didn’t know why he had ended up here, out of all places. Ground targets surrounded him, half of them punched with holes, the other half brand new. He couldn’t remember when he last stood here, rifle in hand. Maybe he didn’t want to remember.

Then, his gaze moved to the many trees that surrounded the clearing. He had always known that trees were a representation of knowledge. Of memories. And it was memories that he was seeing in front of his eyes now.

——————————————————————

[Okay, let’s pretend that TTH taught Grayson and Jameson shooting on Jameson’s 12th birthday, as one of his “schemes” to get them to compete]

Jameson's 12th Birthday

“Alright, boys,” Tobias Hawthorne began. “The first thing you need to know about shooting is that you always treat a rifle as if it is loaded, even if it isn’t.”

Jameson watched as his grandfather started loading his own rifle. It was his 12th birthday and he had expected this. Well, not the fact that he’d have to learn shooting on the morning of his birthday, but the fact that Tobias Hawthorne loved making him and Grayson compete. On one day every year, he and Grayson were the same age, and his grandfather pulled out all the stops. Last year, they had to fight each other using the martial arts skills they had cultivated. Grayson had won. Today, Jameson was determined not to let history repeat itself.

He was determined to WIN. Just like any other Hawthorne, he loved to win. But today, he had to be better. He had to beat Grayson. And he wasn’t going to go down without a fight.

As his grandfather took up position and showed them the different stances that would affect the accuracy of their shots, Jameson had eyes for nothing else in the world. He was always known to have laser focus. Once his attention was latched on to you, it would take a lot for it to be snatched away.

“You lose focus, you lose the game.” His grandfather’s words echoed in his head.

Tobias Hawthorne continued his lesson, now moving on to aiming techniques. “Make sure that you have proper sight alignment. A good shooter must not only have a good arm, but he must also be able to use his eyes.”

Jameson wiped sweat off his brow. If Grayson thought he had a chance of winning today, he was wrong.

BAM! His thoughts were cut off by an ear-splitting sound.

He looked at the target and… BULLSEYE. His grandfather had made the perfect shot. Tobias Hawthorne was as Hawthorne as the rest of them. Jameson might even go on to say that he was THE Hawthorne. Hawthorne values had been made by him. His lessons were ingrained in their minds, his blood their blood. It was no shock that everything he did was perfect.

Before he knew it, his grandfather had walked them through the whole process again, several times, one-on-one. It was time to compete.

Five ground targets were prepared. In order to win, they had to get the most number of bullseyes. As always, their grandfather expected perfection. Nothing less, but there was always room for more.

Grayson was up first. Every inch the heir apparent, he got into his shooting stance, his rifle raised to eye level. His first three targets were all bullseyes. Jameson clenched his hands into fists. On the fourth one, Grayson fumbled, and the shot went a little way off. He watched as Grayson noticed his mistake, as his muscles tensed. He must’ve pulled himself together before shooting the final time because that was a bullseye too.

“Now your turn, Jameson,” his grandfather patted him on the shoulder. Tobias Hawthorne might as well have been asking him to have his turn at the merry-go-round at the funfair. Hawthornes didn’t go to funfairs for leisure or fun. This was fun at Hawthorne House.

Jameson positioned himself in front of the first target and tightened his grip on the rifle. As he brought it up to his gaze, he noticed a word carved on the rifle’s stock. WINCHESTER. His middle name.

Electricity surged in Jameson’s body. This was meant for him, he knew it. He was going to prove to his grandfather that he could do this.

He closed his eyes, all of his five senses somehow sharpened. When he opened them, he fired his first shot.

BAM! Bullseye. Bullseye. Bullseye. Bullseye.

At the final target, he set his jaw. This was it. He lined up his shot one last time and… BULLSEYE.

He had done it. He had won.

He barely had time to process what had just happened when his grandfather appeared behind him and clapped him on the shoulder.

“Very good, Jamie, very good.”

Jameson basked in the praise. Tobias Hawthorne was stingy with his compliments, to say the least. He didn’t exactly give them out like candy.

“I’ve never seen a shot like that before, especially one from a 12-year-old. You’re ahead of your time, Jamie. Keep this up and I’ll see to it that the rifle collection is passed on to you.”

Jameson’s eyes widened. He knew how much that rifle collection meant to his grandfather, how much time his grandfather had spent finding collector pieces all around the world.

“Happy Birthday, Jameson.” Tobias Hawthorne beamed.

Jameson grinned, and then turned back to find Grayson, offering him a rare smile although he knew that deep down, Grayson was disappointed of his loss.

——————————————————————

Present Day

“WINCHESTER.” Jameson repeated to himself. Within the next moment, he sprinted into the House and entered the armory.

He knew exactly where the next clue lied.

[dimalink]

Free Linear Space – discovery of space

Space vertical shooter. About bugs and space. So, in space not only Ufo sausages are flying, but, also, a bugs too. 8 levels. Something about, approximately, one minute long or minute and a half long are levels duration. And after this, at some levels, you will meet a boss. Total 4 bosses. They are, also, different bugs. And big final – mega boss – caterpillar from space!

Menu itself is made with a simple way. With a text form. Some reference, a memory recall about Basic with computer MSX, or with MS DOS. And, next, you go to super menu – select player. 15 types of players to select from. Mainly, they are bugs. And, you can select one of them. It is only visual side. They fly and move similar.

And, ahead, – there are 8 levels. Space vertical shooter. So, here you shoot with laser. So, a long beam, goes all over the screen. And enemies - they do same things. After - you need to recharge laser. It is automatically. 70 types of enemies. Flying bugs, Ufo sausages. But, mainly, bugs. Enemies have a different behavior. They fly forward though the screen. And, also, by diagonal, for example. They can move to the left and right. But, mainly, they move forward. With some modification in their move.

Space, where you live in, is full of different creatures. They are different bugs, insects. They are, also, flying here in space. And, you are flying to them as a guest. Everyone is busy with their own things. And, also, – it is a fantastic, sci-fi!

Genre game - vertical shooter. So, here you need active move and shoot with laser. And, it is, main, here, main things, that you need to do.

So, it is a theme of different space bugs. It was popular, very popular theme, looks like. In 80s. Those games like Space Invaders. Galaga and Galaxian. And lots of copycat. Or similar games. There were for different computers.

So, you are as a player can to select your own space little ship. Saying correct – often it will be a bug. Or insect. And, you will play as this bug. So, you are little green by color. And, so, you are such bug or something another. Different kind, I draw different kinds. Excellent drawing process it was! And, your bug is, rather, fast moving with arrows in space and shoot with space button.

There are not many enemies at the screen. From one to three. In a medium. But, they are with certain speed are flying across the screen. Not so fast. And, they, also, shoot with laser. Laser beam cuts through space. And, it works for some time. So, if you get yourself under laser beam, you will be severely injured. So, you need to be carefully. Casual enemies – they, also, have like you - 100 lives. And bosses – 5000 lives. And megaboss -10000 live points.

You need to tinker with bosses. Well, I cannot say, that they are hard. Simply, they have lots of lives. And they move. Well, not so active. And, main – not to get under their laser beam. Bosses are goes after levels. So, you are, already, rather, frayed to the end of the level. And, if you get at the boss, under his laser beam. So, you even can get a screen - Game Over.

And, this is, yes, it is not so dynamically everything here. And, so, medium tempo. Maybe, even for a shooter – not fast, I can say. But, all the things is in laser beam. It has a duration for several seconds. And, so, it deals good damage.

Little secret is that player`s laser beam is stronger, than enemy laser beam. I made this. So, player has an advantage. About question - laser beam power. But, enemies - they are higher amount. And, their laser beam is, also, not bad. And, it can do a severely damage to you. This is a core of game.

Bosses - there are 4 of them here. Three bosses. And one megaboss. All of these three bosses – they are big bugs. And they move. A little different. But, mainly, they move a little by screen. So, looks like, nothing hard is here. But, they have a moves. And, they shoot with lasers. Once again, you can get under laser beam. Simply, you need to be carefully.

And, double carefully be with megaboss – space caterpillar. She moves even more active. If bosses they move a little. So, here it is more active moves. And, you can get under the laser beam even more. And, simply, it is good to be – carefully. Attentive.

So, I cannot say, that game is hard. But, there is here its own game style and attitude. Rather normal vertical shooter. About bugs, ants, Ufo sausages.

Yes, enemies are here with different sizes. Mainly, they are about your size. But, there are little smaller. And, there are bigger than you. About half of the screen ant, for example, or big caterpillar. And green. But, as idea – they are same enemies as all the other. They have same lives. Simply, they have a huge visual. And, takes, rather, big part of the screen. So, this is a variation moment.

And, total, there are here 70 enemies. Every level - has its own pack. Sometimes, they are reddish. Sometime, they are green. Somewhere, they are bigger. Somewhere, they are Ufo sausages. So, be read to see big ant. And big caterpillar. And more close to the final – Ufo sausages! Ask your friend – do you see a space bug? Do you go to the caterpillar? Do you see ant? And, a classic question – Ufo sausages, do you go to this stage? Do you see Ufo sausage?

Retro sci fi, 80s, bugs. A little about good and kind animals. Insects. Caterpillars, Ufo sausages, ants, different bugs, most different kind. Flying, crawling. So, a fantastic shooter. 16 colors total in use. And screen resolution 320 x 200. So, it is like MS DOS. Or, rather, with spirit of MSX. So, do you see ant? So, big space ant with the half of the screen size?

Well, allright! All of them are your friends! So, you are going to friends as a guest! Flying! Just, game format – shooter!  What can you do with this! And, all around you – light lines are flashing. It is somekind of stars. Or asteroids. Or, maybe, you just fly with so big speed! Science fiction! Space is so big. So, maybe, you are flying with warp speed. So, this means - it is faster, than speed of light. All of these are your over speed of light  - speed light friends.

Friends with the speed of light. So, that’s why space is empty now. Everyone is flashing very fast! And, until you do not learn to do same thing – you never see anyone! Science fiction theory! It is a discovery of the free linear space! Wow! With bugs and Ufo sausages! Wow! Wow! Funny little game! Fantastic! With bugs!

Basic Pascal version 1.17 "BLOCK" – most newest version. In this version there are 4 new games! Platform Ball, Cabin Pilot, Free Blocker, Free Bee. And even more retro games! It is a pack of retro games with modern versions of Basic and Pascal.

It is now in development new version Basic Pascal pack games. This game will be included in a new version.

Basic Pascal: http://www.dimalink.tv-games.ru/packs/basicpascal/index_eng.html Website: http://www.dimalink.tv-games.ru/home_eng.html Itchio: https://dimalink.itch.io/basic-pascal