#and apparently this was grounds for deading me and my entire existence without a word.

[furryprovocateur]

oh christ this one actually hit home really badly jesus fuck.

[1-imaginary-girl]

A Mischievous Love Story - Part 3

Loki x Reader, Thor x Reader (platonic)

Summary: The reader and Loki were madly in love until you found out that he died. Deciding to follow Thor on his adventures, you soon find out the truth about what happened to your boyfriend. This series is a re-telling of Thor: Ragnarök with the reader inserted into the story. Reader uses she/her pronouns.

Warnings: Mental distress.

Word Count: 2219

Prologue Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

“Alright I yield!” Your heart picks up speed and you lose control over your breathing as the illusion before you drops and reveals the man you had thought to be dead for the past five years.

Loki scurries away from Thor’s grasp just in time for Mjolnir to return to its master’s hand. You feel like you’re in a dream as you struggle to comprehend what’s happening. The scene around you dissipates as all you can focus on is Loki. The Loki that crashed into your life and made you feel things you never thought you could. The Loki that filled your days with love and joy. The same Loki who is supposed to be dead.

You had thought of a million different scenarios where he could have lived and returned to you, but you had always dismissed those thoughts as impossible as time went by because you thought that he would never do that to you. Not your Loki. He would’ve returned to you because it’s you and it’s him. You can’t believe how wrong you had been.

You feel in conflict with yourself as your first instinct is to run up to him, leap into his arms, and never let him go again. But the situation you find yourself in causes your feet to root to the ground. This isn’t a happy occasion and you’re not sure how to feel about it.

Time resumes and you recognize the cries of shock and surprise echo across the floor. Loki seems to have frozen and looks out at the horizon, avoiding the gazes of disbelief directed at him. And he especially doesn’t meet your struck expression as your chest rises and falls at a rapid pace. You’re acutely aware of Thor’s gaze as he watches you with sympathy.

He knew, you realize. He knew it was Loki, he figured it out sometime before their conversation took place. Before telling you about his suspicions, Thor had wanted to confirm them. You know he would not have wanted to put you through this unless it was without a doubt true. 

But of course he knew. This was Loki, his brother who had lied and tricked him throughout their entire lives. Maybe you would have realized it sooner too, except Loki had never tricked you. Not once. It was a promise he made when he had first told you about his fake death falling from that fated bridge.

“Would you ever trick me like that?” you had asked him. “If it got in the way of your plan, I mean. Would you?” It was an insecurity of yours that Loki would choose his selfish ways over you as he had done to everyone else in his life, even to his own mother.

But he had taken your face into his hands so that you looked into his loving eyes. “My love, I would never do that to you. You mean too much to me,” he had said. “If anything like that ever happens again, I would tell you.”

A small smile began to form on your face. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

Those words ring through your head as you stare at the same man who had just broken that promise. You guess you had cause to worry after all.

Finally, his gorgeous blue eyes cautiously lift to meet yours, a moment you’re sure he has dreaded. If I still meant as much to him as he had claimed, you think to yourself. The moment your eyes meet, your heart crumbles into a million pieces as the reality of the situation takes hold. He’s really alive. After all this time. And he left you.

His face is covered with guilt, shame, and pain as he watches you figure everything out. Apparently, it becomes too much for him as he looks down and takes a breath before facing Thor.

And just like that your moment is over and he continues the scene in which you don’t exist in. Because your presence was unplanned for, inconvenient, as it has always been. As you struggle to swallow back the pain that seems to erupt from your chest, you watch as Loki dresses in a smile and stretches out his arms in a comedic it’s me!

“Behold!” yells a voice, startling you from the emotional hurricane you seem to be trapped in. You look to see Skruge, the man from before, shoving through the crowd before he stands in the open. “Thor…Odinson.”

Loki snaps one of his fingers in the air and has a moment of disapproval on his face. “No, no,” he says, and hearing his voice again sends you reeling. Loki turns to Skurge and holds up his pointer finger. “You had one job! Just the one.”

Loki returns to facing Thor and you can only imagine the treatment he will receive. He really did it this time, way beyond faking his own demise. You begin to wonder about a question that will drive you mad: why did he do this? Wasn’t he happy with you? You know he was imprisoned in Asgard but was this really a solution to that? No, you decide. This was about what it’s always been about: his lust for the throne.

You still feel Thor’s gaze on you and you understand that he will not continue until he knows you’re okay. You slowly lift your tear-filled gaze to look at him, not daring to let a tear fall at this moment. Unable to speak, you give him a nod. He obviously knows that you’re not okay, how can you be? But it’s enough for him to go on for now.

You shift your gaze to look at Loki whose face seems to be dripping with jealousy at you and Thor’s exchange. You almost laugh at the audacity he has to feel jealous of a friend who’s offering you a small bit of support when you feel like you’re going through hell and Loki can barely look you in the eye.

“Where’s Odin?” Thor asks his brother and Loki’s acting kicks in again as he drops the jealousy to plaster on a smile.

“You just couldn’t stay away, could you?” Loki says, redirecting the conversation. “Everything was fine without you. Asgard was prospering,” he gestures to the crowd and this narcissistic cathedral. “You’ve ruined everything. Ask them--”

Thor advancing cuts Loki off and you find yourself lost in your thoughts again after his little speech. Everything was fine without you, he said. Though the sentence was aimed at Thor, you couldn’t help but feel it was meant for you. While you had been a complete wreck, here he is in a kingdom living out his fantasy life all without you. He seems to have doing just fine without you.

And how dare he claim everything to be okay? Sure, the city isn’t on fire yet, but his ignorance to the realms’ chaos has wrecked the balance of everything. If he had seen what you and Thor had, he wouldn’t be so sure of himself and his job well done.

“Where’s father? Did you kill him?” And just like that you return to reality.

“You had what you wanted,” Loki says, still trying to argue with his brother and paint himself to be the hero like in the play. “You had the independence you asked for!”

But Thor, like yourself, has had enough of Loki’s sly tongue and excuses. He presses Mjolnir onto Loki’s chest causing the god of mischief to cry out a little. The sound brings you some reassurance to know that he’s suffering just a bit for what he’s done.

“Alright! I know exactly where he is,” Loki admits and Thor pulls Mjolnir off his chest.

“Good,” Thor says. “You will take us to him in the morning. For now, I think it best if Y/N and I recover for the night.”

At the mention of your name, it’s almost like Loki is reminded of your presence for he looks at where you’ve been standing for the whole conversation. His expression softens and he seems to have now found his voice. “Y/N…” he says and hearing your name fall from his lips for the first time in half a decade is almost enough to break you. But you stand strong and glare back at him.

“Don’t,” you say, your voice being more unsteady than you would have liked. You take a deep breath to calm yourself. “Just…don’t.”

His face seems to break into guilt and heartache and in another time, that would have pained you to see. But he’s put you through too much. You walk up to where the two brothers are and Loki’s eyes seem fearful as if he feels you will take your wrath out on him. But everything has been too much and you can barely get the next few words out as you turn to Thor.

“Could you take me to where I’ll be staying?” you ask him. You know if you don’t leave soon that you will break down in front of all of these people and him and that’s the last thing you want right now. Where you want to be is as far away from the culprit as possible.

Thor seems to understand completely and you continue to be grateful for him. “Of course,” he says, as he wraps an arm around you and you cling to him as you have trained to as he starts to swing Mjolnir. Before you take off, you catch one last look at Loki and there again you see jealousy plague his features.

Good, you think. There is no way he has any reason to be threatened by Thor but knowing he’s upset continues to please you as you try to wrap your head around your own emotions. He catches your eye and switches from jealous to pained before you and Thor take to the skies and fly far away from him.

You find yourself unable to enjoy the view as you had the first time, watching numbly as the gorgeous city passes by in a blur. Soon, you and Thor arrive at the palace which at any other time would have had you starstruck but now the only sight you crave is a bed to curl up on.

Thor keeps sneaking concerned glances your way but you’re afraid if you meet his eyes, you’ll fall apart right then and there. It would make everything too real when it still feels like a dream.

You follow Thor down golden corridors that seem like they could fit giants and the guards seem to look almost relieved by the god’s presence. You feel like you’re in a mythical legend, like King Arthur, but grander and with more gold.

Thor finally leads you to a door and when he opens it, you see a beautifully decorated room. You let the fog in your mind lift for a moment to admire it. The walls have intricate designs almost like a painting and you feel afraid to touch them. Above your head there is a massive chandelier that hangs from a tall ceiling. You notice an armoire, a desk and mirror, a door that you assume leads to a closet, and a balcony with a breathtaking view. But your attention is drawn to the bed.

It looks like it could fit three of you comfortably on there and you wouldn’t even touch each other. Translucent curtains hang from the canopy. The duvet looks warm and inviting and the pillows look like they’re made of silk. The perfect place to collapse and have your meltdown.

“This is one of our guest rooms. It’s yours for as long as you want it,” Thor says. You take a deep breath and finally meet your friend’s eyes.

“Thank you, Thor,” you say, appreciative of his generosity.

“Of course,” he says. “I can have a doctor look after your wounds if you’d like.”

With all the drama, you had forgotten you were even injured. As if alerting your brain to the problem, you suddenly feel the impact of your encounter with the demon creatures. Now you definitely need to lie down.

“I’d rather take care of them myself, if that’s alright.” You’re not in the mood for any company, even a doctor.

“Absolutely. In that case, I’ll bring you some supplies,” he says. You nod with a small smile of gratitude. He then leaves to get them. You bite back your sobs as you know Thor will be returning shortly. You try to contain the thoughts that threaten to burst into your mind and you have to take deep breaths to keep from crying.

Thor is soon back with medical supplies and explains what they are if you don’t recognize it. “If you need anything else, my room is one door down to the right. Don’t be afraid to ask,” he says and you nod cause it’s all you can do. He looks at you and knows you want to be alone.

He turns to leave and hesitates at the door turning his head to say something before deciding against it. He shuts the door behind him and you slowly lie down on the bed and let the tears fall.

* * * * *

Tag List: @riribaex​ @80strashbag​

[reidyoulikeabook]

the battery was dead

Ship: GN! Reader x Spencer Reid

Warnings: Mention of case-typical violence (more specifically, a bomb), told from Spencer's perspective and he experiences anxiety about reader having been harmed (they're okay though!), Spencer's self-deprecating thoughts, general mood of anxiety throughout, stressful team situation, big feelings of guilt, very much hurt/comfort.

Word count: 1.6k (i did not intend for this to be this long but it's basically a whole thing)

A/N: This is not what I intended to write today but my brain's on a whole hurt/comfort vibe apparently so here we are: something I wrote all in one go in about half an hour. Oops.

Everybody was in different places when the bomb went off. Spencer was with Derek, in an SUV headed uptown. The explosion was downtown. Where you'd been headed. Alone.

The geographical profile had indicated he wouldn't strike downtown. The geographical profile that he had made. The geographical profile that the team had trusted, that the team had based their assignments off, that had led Hotch to conclude it was safe to send you downtown alone.

"Garcia," Derek answers, putting her on loudspeaker and glancing at Spencer who could be pictured and pasted into the DSM-V as the definition of anxiety right now, "Garcia tell me you can patch everybody through."

"I'm trying," She rambles, her voice pitching upwards, "I'm patching ___ through now I'm trying their cell."

Spencer's leg bounces. It bounces so hard it's a miracle the velocity of it doesn't send Derek veering right across the road. He scratches at his neck. There are no words to be said. No words in any language in the world can describe the fear coursing through his body as he hears Garcia scramble, pressing keys and typing and he's only vaguely aware of Derek's hand coming to rest reassuringly on his bouncing knee, managing to still it just a little bit.

"___ will be fine," He reassures him, "Just fine. I promise. It's not your fault kid, you couldn't have known, how would you have known?"

"It's my job to know."

His tone is bitter, angry, and he feels even worse for it because it's not Derek's fault. Derek is trying to help. Derek is trying to be kind and somehow that's worse because he doesn't deserve it. He doesn't deserve anybody's kindness right now and he can't get your face out of his mind. How you'd smiled at him before walking out of the door of that precinct and how it might be the last time he ever got to see you smile and it was all his fault. All his fault.

His stomach is in knots. Garcia's practically smacking her precious equipment in her hurry and then the line goes mute.

"Garcia?" Derek asks again, "Garcia are you still there?"

There's a beat of silence and then the background noise returns, "I'm just trying ____'s cell."

What's taking so long? She could have tried by now. He's never known Garcia to be slow at her job and even though it feels like time has stopped. Fractured like a mirror, throwing off pieces, and he's trapped inside a piece that has all of the horror and guilt he's ever felt in his life staring him in the face. But she can work faster than that. Why isn't she working faster than that?

It all becomes clear as he hears her clack again. Then your voice floods the line.

"You've reached SSA ____ ____ of the Behavioural Analysis Unit. Please leave a voicemail, or if you're calling regarding an urgent matter then please direct your calls to SSA Aaron Hotcher at the following number-"

"Maybe she's already on the phone," Derek suggests, cutting over your recital of his number, "Maybe her line's already busy. Right Garcia, is her line already busy?"

"I can't tell."

She's lying. Spencer knows she's lying and it knocks him sick. He practically wrenches the handle to the window off in his quest to get it open. The cold air pours in and he feels worse. He can't allow himself to bask in any feeling of comfort when you're God knows where.

He can't let himself think like that. He blinks hard, shaking his head as if he can physically remove the images from his brain. They flash through, his neurons defying him as they keep picturing you in worse and worse scenarios, and he can't breathe.

"Pull over," He directs Derek, wrenching off his seatbelt before Derek even manages to get the car in park.

Somewhere amidst all of it, Hotch has been patched through.

"We're convening downtown. Our presence has been requested at the crime scene."

Derek is saying something to pacify him. Or he's telling him something. He can't tell because his head is swimming and then Derek is squeezing his shoulder, physically pulling him back into reality.

"Kid. Listen to me. You're not helping anybody getting yourself all worked up like this. We need to focus. We've got to work this through."

He nods. He nods because Derek is right. They do have to work this through. Even though they would be better working this through without him because he's the one who made the profile that was wrong and his contributions clearly can't be trusted and-

"Put your seatbelt on. Talk to me. Let's talk through how it could have gone wrong."

Derek's voice strikes just the right balance between commanding and reassuring. It always does. So he does it. He clips in the seatbelt and starts to ramble, discussing avenues they haven't explored before, suggesting why he could have been wrong. He's never doubted himself like this before, and it's an uncomfortable feeling. What's more uncomfortable is the realisation he's never failed you like this before.

They pull up to the crime scene. Derek scrambles out of the car, but he pauses for a beat. It's only when Emily opens the door, that he's pulled back into reality again.

"Spencer," She says, "Spencer, come on."

There are SUV'S everywhere. They've tried to contain the scene as much as they could but they needed the bomb squad, needed paramedics, needed FBI.

She's walking him somewhere and he's frantically searching around him, frantically trying to orient himself. It doesn't help that it's dark, gone midnight by now, and the street lights were taken out in the initial explosion. Most of the lights come from torches, or headlamps that people are wearing. It's not enough, he can barely make out Emily let alone find your face in the crowd.

And then he hears it. His name. Your voice.

You found him.

"Spencer," You call, and he can't possibly turn around fast enough.

He barely has before you come crashing into his arms, cinching them tightly around him. He practically scoops you off of the ground, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you as close as he can possibly get you to his body, inhaling the familiar scent of your shampoo and there's tears coming out of his eyes, tears of relief and fear and-

"Spencer," You tell him, sniffling, "Spencer you're kind of crushing me."

You let out a little laugh, and he lets out one too. But it's puffy, practically just air. He releases his grip a bit and you lean up, your arms looping around his neck and playing with the baby hairs situated at the nape of it.

"Spence I'm okay, I'm right here," You reassure him, pressing a kiss to his cheek, "I'm right here."

You are right here. He can hear the pound of your heart, he can smell your perfume, he can feel you playing with his hair in a way that tickles but is so comforting, so domestic, so reassuring that you still love him despite his fuck up, that he couldn't bring himself to tell you to stop even if he wanted you to.

He doesn't even know he's still crying until he speaks, his voice wavering as it manoveurs past the lump in his throat, "I-Garcia tried calling you. You didn't answer your phone."

"The battery was dead," You tell him, "I plugged it in in the car and next thing I know I'm getting pulled over. I got brought straight here when I told them I was FBI and I tried to borrow somebody's phone to call but they cut off cell reception here in case there was a second bomb."

He swallows. He can't say anything else, can't do anything else. He manages to open his eyes, and you lean up, apparaising him. You thumb at the tears on his cheeks, a kind of softness and love entirely exclusive to you filling your eyes along with a couple of tears. You don't look at him like you're angry. You don't look at him like you're disappointed. You look at him with a kindness he's entirely undeserving of at this moment in time and the thought spurs two more tears out of his eyes.

"What's wrong?" You ask, your voice barely above a whisper, "Spence what's wrong?"

"It was my fault," He chokes, his head dipping a bit, too ashamed to make eye contact, "I made the profile. I was wrong. I sent you here, I-I sent you directly into danger."

"It was a copycat," You tell him, "It was a copycat, he didn't get away in time and got caught up in the blast. Our guy is smarter than that, so they think this guy tried to imitate it. It's not your fault. You couldn't possibly have known, you can't profile a person you don't know exists."

The revelation is like foam on a petrol fire. It quells the pain in his chest, the one that had maliciously licked at him, igniting all his own wounds and insecurities.

It wasn't his fault.

He holds onto you even tighter, burying his face in the crook of your neck, "Thank you. Thank you."

"For what?"

"For being okay."

"I'm always okay," You tell him, your voice nothing but sincere, "I'm always okay because I always have you."

With that, the fire is out. You reluctantly wiggle out of his arms, taking his hand and squeezing it reassuringly. He's not okay yet. Not entirely. It all still feels surreal, and he knows it'll take a long time for his heart to settle down. But you're here. By his side. And that's enough for now.

In fact, with you? That's enough for always.

-

Permanent Spencer tagslist:

@ssa-m-187 @reidingmelodies @cyanide-mustard @shesalatesh

@sapphic-prentiss @geostarr @kathrynisadogperson @rem-ariiana @spoonielivingfree @starsandshit90 @spencerreidat3am @takeyourleap-of-faith @calm-and-doctor @averyhotchner @muffin-cup @purplewaterbottles082 @reidsnose @wheelsup @ellesgreenaway @sunlitspence @spencerreid9 @drspencerreidd @reiding-recs @bauemily @cmily @retrxbarnes @jhillio @txmhoelland @spenxerslut @amoeebaa @veridianluv @sad-bitch-h0ur @reidtome @converse-spence @randomfavtingswall @bethc54 @sebstan-is-the-man @justanothercrazyfangirl @eli-side-blog @vntgreid @reidmeastory @reidemandweep @ggublerss @s1lverhand @cigarette-day-dread @newtmyheart @i-understood-that-reference @willowrose99 @v-is-obsessive @awesomebooklover17 @youarethereasonimsmiling @xhopingthis-worksx @agentdilf @spencerreidsconverse @nomajdetective @brown-eyedshell @randomficsandshit @bvttercupbby @thatsonezesty13 @spookydrreid @kurtuinna @loverboyspence @jswessie187 @sammicabrera @idontwantyourcookiesthanks @sweetandsunny @reidstulips @midnightstan @stylesstreet @iamhowieson @reichelhache @screennamealreadyused @joyclubie @mrs-dr-reid @measure-in-pain @slaytherinthoughts @inlovewprentiss @citlalireedus @love-you-to-saturn @drayshadow @makailaa @idonotexiste @hercleverboy @disasterwriter @kuolonsyoja @thosecriminalminds @sun-flower-seed @singularityjc @adanae91 @uwu-queen-420 @broken-stardust

Link to join tagslist!

[leejihoonownsmyheart]

The Dugout

Summary:

While at a baseball game with your friend, you make an unexpected acquaintance.

Warnings: Creampie, no protection, degradation, spanking/ hitting of certain body parts

-

“Well, what do you say sweetheart? Go out on a date with me?”

You flinched as the boy in front of you took you by your wrist, tightly pulling you closer to him. You could smell the distinct aroma of pizza on his breath, and it made you regret leaving your seat at the game.

You had known better than to leave Jeonghan’s side when you went to a game with him at an rival school. The boys at this school were known for being a bit less friendly when it came to talking to girls, and you had known that. But Jeonghan had pissed you off when he told you that you “weren’t allowed to leave his side”. What gave him the right after all? You weren’t his property; you were your own person.

So, you had stormed away from him, ignoring his calls after you as you went.

You didn’t need him to escort you to the restroom. What kind of bull crap was that? “Excuse me, I don’t particularly enjoy being ignored.”

“Yeah, how dare you ignore Jeon!”

“Apologize to him you bitch!”

You were jolted roughly in three different directions, your eyes screwing shut.

Maybe next time you set your pride aside. Being safer was much better than getting yourself in stupid, easily avoidable situations like this one.

“Sorry, I just-”

You were jolted again, and you felt another one of the groupies fingers digging into your arm and you wished suddenly you were a bit stronger. If you were you could at least fight back.

Lose? Yes, since it would be five against one. But fight back, nonetheless.

You reasoned you didn’t have very many options. You could keep quiet and make a serious attempt to just go along with them and what they were asking of you. Maybe if you did then they would cool down.

Just as you thought that however you felt one of the goons push you down to your knees. You felt your knees press into the hard-concrete ground and you hissed out in surprise.

Maybe nothing would get them to cool down.

You really didn’t have any options now. You had to get out of this situation. You had to stay safe. You felt your nose scrunch in concentration.

“Look,” you mumbled. “You better let go of me… Or.. Or you’re really going to regret it.”

The guy, Jeon, or whatever laughed cruelly.

“Really and why is that?” He asked you, leaning down towards you. He clearly wasn’t impressed. Or scared or intimidated by anything that you had to say at all. You cleared your throat.

“Because,” you replied surely. “I have a boyfriend and he is not going to be happy if he finds out that you did this.”

Falling back on the existence of some sort of man was honestly the most disgusting and degrading thing that you could possibly do. You didn’t need a man to protect you, you really didn’t. But still you knew that reasoning with guys like this would be… Difficult, and the best way to overcome those difficulties would be to scare them with the one thing that could scare them.

Bigger scarier guys.

“You think I’m scared of your boyfriend?” He asked with a laugh. “Is he here? Cause I don’t see him anywhere.”

You were forced back up to your feet, unluckily by Jeon burying his fingers in your hair and pulling you up by the roots. Was it dramatic to say that didn’t hurt as much as your pride at having to lie about this whole boyfriend thing?

You absolutely didn’t have a boyfriend, and it was entirely because you didn’t want one. You hadn’t yet met a single person who treated you the way that you wanted to be treated. People were either too clingy, too protective, or not protective enough.

Yeah you wanted to be cared for just as badly as the next person but people who cared about you to the extent of say… Jeonghan trying to walk you to the bathroom… It was just ridiculous.

“Just make sure to be careful.”

My god, you were always careful. You always took care of yourself. Sometimes people truly could be suffocating.

“Well,” Jeon emphasized, ripping you from your admittedly off-track train of thoughts. “Where is he? Where’s your boyfriend who is going to save you hm?”

You looked around you quickly, your thoughts running through your mind at a million miles an hour. There weren’t a lot of people around. Some guys, some girls. You ignored the girls- they were pretending like you weren’t being attacked- and focused in on the guys. There were a few band kids- no offense to band kids but you knew they weren’t interested in being of any use to you- and then there were two other guys. One on his phone- he glanced at you, and then just as quickly glanced away.

One option. You had one option.

There was a boy standing not far from you, he had large black headphones over his ears, and his hair was tucked beneath a yellow Pledis Academy baseball cap. He was disconnected from the world, clearly occupied by whatever beats were coming from his headphones.

He had on a sweater, navy blue with yellow path work letters sewn on spelling out the word “becoming”. He had on tight white pants, but you could barely see them with how big the sweater was. It made him look even smaller, like a child. Even the palms of his hand were hidden under the sleeves.

He didn’t really look like the kind of guy these people would be scared of but… Lack of options.

Before you could really think it through you pointed at him, hoping to God he was better than these guys.

“Him, he’s my boyfriend!”

The boy, Jeon, coughed, his hands dropping from your body.

“Jihoon is your boyfriend?” He blurted. Your nose wrinkled slightly. So that was his name.

“That’s right,” you agreed, feeling a little more confident. You thought it was odd, the way the people around you all backed away. Was this Jihoon someone that they were scared of? “Should I go get him? Tell him what you guys were-”

Before you could even finish the guys were back on you again. Jeon’s hands were combing through your hair, his expression nervous.

“There’s no need for that,” he assured softly. “After all, you’re fine right?”

“Boss her knees.”

“God are you guys stupid, how could you hurt her like that?”

The boys were brushing the dust off of your clothes, making you look presentable. A girl could get used to that kind of treatment. But a question remained and… Apparently, you weren’t the only one who thought so.

The boy in question, Jihoon, turned his head, his eyebrows raising when he saw the way that Jeon and his dorkwads were treating you. He placed his hands on his headphones and lowered them to hang around his neck. The minute that the other boys realized that he could hear they freaked out.

“Jihoon, I swear it’s not what it looks like,” Jeon assured desperately. “I mean really. We never meant to mess with her. We didn’t realize that she was your girl.”

“Huh?” Jihoon asked. His gaze turned to you, and his eyes were not angry persay. Just…. Confused. Almost… Bored. Maybe that was good for you.

“Sweetheart,” you exclaimed. His eyebrows quirked at that. “I just came to find you before the game. Sorry, I got sidetracked.”

A slow, understanding smile crossed Jihoon’s face. One that honestly surprised you. You thought for sure he would leave you for dead, but instead… He took a step forward. Jeon and his goons all took a step back, as if him getting closer was an actual threat on their lives.

“You know I don’t like to be kept waiting,” Jihoon mumbled. He put a hand in his back pocket and with the other one, quirked a finger. A clear indication that he wanted you to come over.

Maybe if you were smart you wouldn’t have. But… You weren’t smart, so you- without much of a second thought- walked over to him. You wanted this to seem, well, as authentic as it possibly could so you smiled at him as you drew near.

“I missed you,” you offered, your teeth gritting as you said the words. He snorted.

“I missed you too,” he murmured. “My beautiful, beautiful girlfriend.”

He held his hand out and you stopped in your tracks, watching as he trailed his eyes up and down your body. Normally, you wouldn’t appreciate the attention, but there was something about him… You didn’t mind.

“You know, it’s been so long since I’ve seen you that I’ve practically forgotten your name.”

You laughed into the back of your hand.

“Oh, you remember,” you assured. You murmured out your name and he made a huge show, of remembering.

“Of course, of course. How could I forget?” He teased. He reached out to you again, this time clearly intent on touching you. His hand high enough to the soothe your head where Jeon had pulled it but he hesitated. He didn’t touch you without knowing that you wouldn’t mind.

You liked that. You ducked your head forward and put your hands over his wrists. You pushed his hand down until it laid flat on your head. You looked at him with a pathetic pout spread across your lips.

“That boy pulled my hair,” you pouted.

You heard Jeon suck in a horrified gasp at those words.

“I-”

“Does your head hurt?” Jihoon asked you. You nodded once, and it was enough for him. He brushed his hand down your head, caressing you ever so carefully. There was a weird moment in which he just looked at you. You weren’t sure what he was searching for but you could tell that there was something in you he was trying to find.

He looked away from you and nudged you over to his side.

You wondered if he found what he was looking for.

“Jihoon, we’re so unbelievably sorry,” Jeon insisted, drawing your attention back over to him. You covered your mouth as you watched him drop to his knees before the guy. Jihoon snickered next to you, and it made you look over at him. You were surprised when you found that he wasn’t looking at Jeon, but at you with a distinct smirk on his lips. You raised an eyebrow at him and he turned his attention back towards Jeon.

“Get out of my sight while I’m still feeling generous,” he replied pointedly. Without another word, Jeon scrambled to his feet and rushed away. You watched as him and the other guys stumbled off, leaving nothing but dust in their wake. You tried not to laugh too hard as they ran off and once, they were gone all you could do was deflate in relief.

“Well, thank you for that,” you mumbled. You pulled away from him and thoughtfully brushed yourself off. Suddenly, you had an uneasy feeling about being here alone with this Jihoon character. Those girls who you didn’t think could care about what you were doing, were uneasily glancing your way.

You thought about the fear in Jeon’s eyes and you wondered what this boy could’ve possibly be doing that made everyone so scared of him.

But you didn’t wonder too much.

You pushed your hands into your back pocket.

“Alright, nice to meet you, thank you. I should just be going then-” You began to wander away from Jihoon, but before you could make it very fair, Jihoon had scoffed.

“What you think you can just claim to be my girlfriend and just walk away?” Jihoon asked you. He dipped his head a little bit to look at you better, his eyebrows high on his forehead. He murmured your name, it like a whisper on his lips. “I sure would like to get to know you better.”

You felt color raise to your cheeks, but you didn’t bother hiding it.

“I mean, I really out to…” You trailed off nervously. “Get back to my friend… He’ll miss me if I don’t.”

Jihoon stepped towards you once again and held out his hand.

“The game doesn’t start for another while,” he mumbled. “You’re not from around, here right?”

He paused but you knew he wasn’t done speaking. You nervously cleared your throat and shook your head. Unable to explain the sudden fluttering of butterflies in the pit of your stomach. When had you lost your confidence? When had you become so shy of what Jihoon was going to do around you?

After all, you had trusted him to save you from those boys so why were you so nervous now?

“I really wouldn’t mind staying around,” you assured softly, brushing your hair back out of your face, despite the fact that you had been really wanting to hide your face in those strands of hair. “But my friend really would worry. He-”

“Ah,” Jihoon interrupted unsurely. He placed his hands back over his headphones. “I get it. You either have a boyfriend, or you just don’t want to do anything.”

Your mouth dropped and he shrugged.

“I should’ve known. After all you’re too pretty to be single.”

You were surprised that Jihoon was actually going to leave you at that revelation. You watched in pure shock as he began to pull his headphones back over his ears, turning away from you.

You felt your heart skip a beat, something about the way that the two of you had acted together not long ago. Something about the way that Jihoon treated you despite you being a total stranger. He was taking you seriously. No one ever took you seriously.

“Wait-” You called. He paused, shifting his headphone’s slightly so that he could hear you, but not turning his body to face you again. “What if I said I didn’t have a boyfriend?”

Jihoon glanced at you, an eyebrow raising.

“Yeah?” he asked you, a glint suddenly sparkling in his eye.

“Well, it’d be unfair if I didn’t repay you somehow. So, what do you say? You want me to buy you food or something before the game?”

Jihoon stared at you, his posture back to what it had been when addressing those guys before. He was once again making himself seem so much bigger than he was in reality, putting on that tough exterior that you assumed had to be the reason those other guys were so scared ohim.

“You don’t go to Pledis University, do you?” Jihoon observed. You raised an eyebrow at him which he took as answer enough. “So how did you learn my name?”

“I pointed at you and Jeon supplied the rest,” you replied with a shrug. “Why- Should I know your name?”

Jihoon stared at you thoughtfully for a long moment, seeming to access what you were saying. Then after a while he smiled.

“No, you shouldn’t,” he decided. “And I think I have an idea better than just getting hot dogs.”

He held out his hand for you to take, raising a curious eyebrow towards you.

“Tell me, how crazy are you exactly?”

Your lips turned up into a mischievous smile, placing your hand in his without hesitation.

“Lead the way Mr. Jihoon.”

“Oh, I like it when you call me that,” Jihoon stated with a wink.

-

You looked around the old dugout, your eyebrows raising.

“You know, it’s surprisingly tidy in here,” you commented. “When you said Old Dugout, I was expecting something more like high school. Cobwebs and used condoms.”

“Well, University is different you know? Cleaner- and no one uses condoms,” Jihoon replied teasingly.

You chuckled at his joke and let your head fall to the side with a smile.

“You would think people would be smarter with a higher education,” you mumbled. You let your back fall against the wall, and you shrugged off-handedly. The action made Jihoon’s eyes fluttered down to your breasts. “But I guess some people just can’t be taught.”

Before you could say another word Jihoon was closing the distance between you two. He pressed his hand squarely on your shoulder, pressing you against the brick wall his other hand coming up to your cheek as he pulled you in for a rough kiss.

The action didn’t surprise you, but it did send a thrill of excitement running through your body. You felt yourself hook your leg around Jihoon’s and you pulled him closer to you with fistfuls of your hands in his shirt.

As he kissed you, his mouth rough and possessive over your lips, you felt yourself grinding down on his leg, desperate for more contact then the little bit he was already giving you.

It wasn’t often that you found yourself craving another person’s touch like this but there was something about Jihoon that made you feel like you were empty, and you were hot, and you were horny. And Jihoon was the only cure for your sudden ailment.

He seemed to sense this because he chuckled against your lips. He hooked his thumb into your mouth between your lips and forcefully pushed you back against the wall. You huffed at the loss, but he just looked on at you in amusement.

“Who would’ve known from a glance that you were so...” He trailed off, seeming to try and find the right word to describe you.

“Horny?” You suggested. The corner of his lip quirked up.

“I was going to say impatient,” Jihoon mumbled back. “But horny also covers it quite well.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but Jihoon didn’t mind the action. Instead he popped his thumb from between your lips and gave you a teasing look.

“Undress.”

You didn’t have to be told twice.

As Jihoon took a seat on the bench you pulled your shirt over your head and toed yourself right out of your shorts. You went to remove the rest of your clothes, but a click of disapproval from Jihoon made you pause and look over at him instead.

The look you received at such unwavering attention, sent even more heat through your body. He patted his spread legs and you wandered over to him, carefully positioning yourself in his lap, your hands on his shoulders.

“You are very obedient,” he murmured. You snorted.

“Not always,” you retorted. “I’m just in a good mood today.”

Jihoon hummed at your response, but you could tell he wasn’t really listening to you. He raised his hands to your sides and began to run his fingers along your soft skin. He started from just above your hips. Four of his fingers tracing up your ribs, to the elastic of your bra. His fingers stopped there and followed instead along the cloth of your fabric until he slipped his hands up under your bra.

He cupped your breasts in his hands, pushing your bra up your chest as he did so, giving you a small squeeze. A surprised moan left your lips- an action that made Jihoon’s eyes shot up to yours.

“Do that again,” he said, looking and sounding completely in awe. You rolled your eyes.

“Well, you have to give me-” Before you could finish Jihoon had smacked one of your breasts sharply.

You hissed out a moan, your fingers digging into Jihoon’s shoulders.

“Hey,” you murmured. “What makes you think that I’m into that?”

Jihoon shrugged, his fingers tracing around the breast that he had just smacked, smoothing it over with the pads of his fingers as if to soothe it.

“I just know,” he replied. “I mean am I wrong?”

You let out a disgruntled noise, not really wanting to admit to some guy you had just met that “you enjoyed how rough he was being with you. His other fingers squeezed the tit of your other breasts and he twisted it between his fingers making you whine.

“You’re not wrong,” You admitted. Jihoon hummed at you, but his eyes remained on his hands as they cupped your breasts again. He gave you another squeeze. “Satisfied?”

“Very,” he stated back. “Just wanted to hear you admit it.”

You squinted your eyes at him, and finally he raised his eyes back to yours. His lips had fallen into a thin line of concentration as he had messed with your breasts, but as he looked at you they slowly reformed a smile. His hands crept up your body, brushing past your collar bones and up to your neck, where he tightly wrapped his fingers around your throat.

His thumbs forced your chin up ever so slightly, and he gave you a small squeeze. You sucked in a shocked breath at the action, hating the way that your panties grew damper just at the touch.

“I like it when you tell me stuff like that,” he murmured. “Do you want me to take control? Use you?”

You didn’t waste a second this time.

“Fuck,” you murmured. “Yes, please.”

He leaned forward, his lips brushing yours.

“You want me to hurt you?” He asked.

You sucked in another sharp breath at the question. A question that you never thought anyone would ever ask you. You were so used to people treating you like glass- assuming that the slightest touch would break you.

So, having Jihoon treat you as if that weren’t so in the slightest was both surprising, and a huge turn on.

“Please hurt me,” you murmured back.

One of Jihoon’s hands loosened its grip around your neck and he dropped it down to your pussy. He slipped his fingers under your panties, and pressed a finger into your warm wet heat.

You let out a surprised gasp, prompting Jihoon to tighten his grip on your throat. You choked around his fingers and rolled your hips down on his hand. You thought he might be annoyed at that but instead his fingers loosened around you, and he pulled your face down closer to his.

“So, I’m guessing you already know that I’m planning on fucking you?” He asked you. You rolled your hips down on his hand again.

“And I’m guessing you already know that I’m highly encouraging such actions?”

You cheekily reached up, plucking Jihoon’s hat right from his head. He looked surprised by the action, but you didn’t mind. You put the hat on your head and smiled.

“You’re wearing too much,” you mumbled. He raised his eyebrows.

“I’m already mostly naked,” he murmured despite it not being even remotely true. He grabbed you loosely by your hips and pulled you closer to him. You nearly yelped at the action, worried that he would drop you, but luckily enough he had a good grip on you. “But I’ll admit, you look way better in that hat then I ever have.”

You smiled again, your tongue peeking out from between your teeth, but before you could say anything back to him, he was focused on your body once again. He reached behind your back and unhooked your bra. You let it fall off your arms and onto the floor before grabbing Jihoon’s shirt.

“Take your clothes off,” you insisted with a grumble. Jihoon didn’t complain as you pulled off his shirt and began to make quick work of his pants. Instead he watched in amusement as you climbed off of him to help work him free of the clothing.

Once his pants and boxers had finally fallen to the ground, Jihoon’s fingers loosely knotted themselves in your hair. He tightened his grip and pulled you roughly flush against his body. You gasped but didn’t complain as his cock poked against your leg.

“You’re a little whore,” he said observantly. It felt like it was a little random, but you didn’t mention that. Instead you smiled loosely and let your hand wrap around his cock.

“Maybe I am,” you admitted slyly. “And how do you treat little whores?”

“Just the way that they like to be treated.”

He pushed you down to your knees, gripping your hair tightly. He didn’t give yo ua single warning as he pushed his cock into your mouth. Didn’t even stop halfway so that you could get used to his girth. You splayed your hands over his waist, gagging around the cock hard.

But despite how hard you gagged he did nothing to pull you off of him- not that you signaled for him to do such a thing anyways. No the longer he held you on his cock, the more he triggered you to cough more saliva over his dick the more that you felt heat rushing to your center.

You were embarrassed to admit that already, just being used by this man was a turn on. Jihoon seemed to notice this and he laughed as he pulled you off his cock.

“Did that turn you on?” He teased you lightly. You tried to lean forward and put his cock back into your mouth- as a way to escape his question, but he caught you quickly, shaking his head slowly back and forth as he clicked his tongue.

“When I ask you a question, I expect an answer,” he growled. “When a stranger makes you choke on his cock on a baseball field, do you get turned on?”

You weren’t sure how it was possible that the question had gotten worse after being asked a second time, but you knew for a fact that it was worse.

“Okay, yes, I’m absolutely fucking drenched for you...” You trailed off, batting your eyelids innocently at Jihoon. “Is that what you wanted to hear?”

Jihoon hummed lightly.

“No... But I think it is what I wanted to feel.”

His fingers wandered down to your pussy, at first just teasing you by dancing around your clit, and your whole. He dipped his fingers between your folds and massaged you there for a moment, still somehow missing the spots you needed him to be at the most.

You grunted.

“You’re such a tease,” you mumbled. “Why don’t you just get to fucking me?”

“Be patient,” Jihoon shushed. “It’s my first time being between your legs- maybe my last. I have to treasure this moment.”

His eyes focused in on your wet pussy, his thumb pulling a side one of the folds further down, probably so that he could see your hole better.

“And your pussy... It truly is gorgeous. You’re already so wet and creamy for me and I have hardly even touched you... How long has it been since you last had sex with someone?” He asked. Then he paused, his head tilting to the side. “No- Actually let’s not talk about that. Let’s just focus on-”

He leaned forward, and finally his warm tongue met your pussy. You whined as he licked a long strip, and he too moaned.

“You taste almost as gorgeous as you sound,” he mumbled softly. You wanted to give him a sarcastic response but before you managed it he had wrapped his arms tightly around your legs bringing you so close to him, that his nose bumped your clit- and he was eating you out.

You had pretty much never been eaten out before.

Especially not by someone who was so good with their tongue. You felt your fingers bury themselves in Jihoon’s long strand, tugging on them hard as he pushed his tongue into your pussy, his moans vibrating against you in a way that was nearly overbearing.

You kept thinking that soon enough his little “pregame” would pass and he would want you back on his cock again, but to your surprise no such thing came.

Instead, one of his fingers lowered to your pussy, probing at your entrance.

At first it seemed like he didn’t think it would fit. Pushing the tip in and then pulling it out a moment later to get some wetness. But he soon seemed to decide that his hesitations were all unworth it. He pushed his finger deep into you alongside his tongue. The digit made you feel incredible. An action you couldn’t believe made you moan the way that it did.

You had never been so completely desperate for another person before in your life. Your thighs trembled as he worked his finger in and out of you, and you resisted the urge to pull on Jihoon’s hair hard enoguh to make him stop.

Cause holy hell, you did not want him to stop. “I need more,” you mumbled between your pants. Jihoon chuckled and the vibrations made you bite out a loud moan.

“You want more?” Jihoon asked teasingly. He slid a second finger into your dripping pussy, and smiled mischeaviously up at you from between your legs. You whined, your hips wiggling at the feeling of his fingers sliding in and out of you. God, he knew that wasn’t what you wanted. You wanted... No you didn’t just want his cock. You needed his cock.

You needed to have Jihoon’s body close to you, you needed to have his cock deep inside of you. You wanted to feel him pound you and treat you like a real whore.

You tugged at Jihoon’s hair, a frustrated expression surely on your face.

“Jihoon-”

“Oh even more then that?” He asked you. He slid a third finger into your pussy and you literaally had to arch your back you felt so close to cumming. Your toes curled and you leaned forward, your fingers tightening in a way you knew that you shouldn’t. You pulled his head up to you and met his eyes.

“Jihoon I need you to fuck me, and I need you to fuck me now.”

Jihoon’s eyes turned dark, and his fingers pulled out of your pussy. You knew immediately that you had made a mistake when you felt him tighten his grip on your hip. You closed your mouth as Jihoon raised his fingers to your lips.

“Open back up you whore, and clean these off for me,” he instructed. You were quick to open your mouth for him, waiting patiently as he slid his fingers into your mouth. You began to lick his fingers clean, moaning as you tasted yourself on his fingers.

“Now, do you think it’s very good behavior to pull my hair and tell me what to do?” He asked, his voice dark. A shiver ran down your spine.

“No,” you breathed.

He nodded slowly.

“So, you were just bad on purpose?”

Your face flamed red, and you opened your mouth, stammering to come up with an answer.

“Not a very good slut are you?” Jihoon asked. He pushed you back on the bench, his hand slapping your thigh sharply so that you would open your legs further. Then his fingers wrapped around your waist, his fingers digging into your side. “You’re desperate, and impatient.”

He leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear.

“I love that about you.”

You screamed as Jihoon thrust his cock into you in one hard thrust. It sent a sharp feeling of pain through your body, but the pain was quickly clouded by the immense pleasure of having Jihoon inside of you.

Jihoon’s eyes rose to you, his smile was downright devious.

“Does that satisfy your needs?” He asked you. You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could get an answer out Jihoon slid himself out of you and thrusted hard back into you. You found yourself only capable of panting and squirming as Jihoon fucked you so hard that the entire bench was squeaking under the pressure.

You threw your arms over Jihoon’s body, tugging yourself closer to him. The feeling of his skin against yours was nearly intoxicating. It made you wish that you could hold him even closer. You wanted so badly to be this close to Jihoon forever.

He thrust hard into you again, making you yelp aloud in surprise. You felt your fingernails digging into Jihoon’s back, which made him grunt out in pleasure.

“F-fuck, please, I need m-more,” you moaned out. Jihoon chuckled.

“God, you little whore, are you really that turned on being fucked in a dugout by a stranger,” Jihoon grunted out. You whined at the names and wrapped your legs around Jihoon’s waist.

“Flip me, I want to ride you,” you murmured. Jihoon didn’t have to be asked twice.

Once you two were situated you wrapped your legs more tightly around Jihoon’s chest, whining at the way his cock sunk deeper inside of you at that angle. You placed your hands on his shoulders and began to slowly lift yourself up on his cock, and then lower yourself back down on it.

Jihoon’s fingers dug deep into your hips, his grip on you so tight that it made you wonder if you were really the one that was in control of your pace at the moment.

You began to quicken your speed, lifting yourself faster and faster, listening to the sound of your thighs slap against his. Jihoon slapped your ass as you fucked yourself, his lips attaching to your neck as he whispered obscenities to you between leaving kisses on your neck.

“Pl-Please don’t leave any marks,” you hissed as he nipped at you near your collarbone. “Jeonghan will kill-”

Before you could finish the sentence Jihoon had flipped you two back over, throwing you back down on the bench so hard you thought for sure you were going to bruise. He pushed his ockc back in your body and began to furiously fuck you again, his pace so fast that you were shocked that you were still feeling so much overwhelming pleasure.

“Ji-Jiho-”

“Talk about a man again while I’m fucking you,” Jihoon warned. As he spoke he lowered his hand down to your cunt, his fingers finding your clit. He pressed down on it and began to frantically rub at it- somehow matching the pace of his own thrusts.

You cried out in pleasure and once again wrapped your arms around him.

“Pl-please Jihoon, c-cum,” you blurted out, not even caring about how angry Jihoon had gotten simply at the mention of Jeonghan’s name. You could feel pleasure coiling in your gut, you were too close to cumming to care about anything but your own explosive pleasure. You needed to cum, and you needed to cum now.

“Inside, cum inside me, I’m on the pill it’s okay just please-”

And before you had even finished talking Jihoon began to cum spurts into you. In seconds you were cumming undone, each thrust of his making you feel like you were starting your orgasm all over again, you felt so good. Your fingers dug into Jihoon’s arms as he fucked you almost relentlessly until he finally bottomed out inside of you, his chest heaving.

“That is a good little slut,” he praised.

He sat there for a few moments, just taking the time to catch his breath. He was sweating pretty hard- not that you were surprised by that revelation at all. Finally, Jihoon pulled out of you, humming softly as he watched his own cum dribbling out from your used cunt.

“I shouldn’t have come inside of you,” he mumbled softly.

“Yeah, you shouldn’t have,” you agreed. “But I wanted it so bad, and it felt-” You leaned forward, your lips brushing against Jihoons. “So good.”

Jihoon groaned, and pulled away from you.

“I don’t have time to fuck you again before the game,” Jihoon mumbled as he began to redress. You pouted.

“What so you’re just gonna use me like some kind of cum dumpster and leave?”

Jihoon snickered.

“Yep.”

You rolled up and grabbed your bra, instinctively turning away from Jihoon as you began to get dressed. You looked back over your shoulder at him and smiled.

“Damn, you really are a dream aren’t you?” You asked, your tongue between your teeth. Jihoon snickered and slid his shirt over his head.

“So, are you still going to the game?” He asked you. You shrugged.

“My friend will kill me if I don’t go,” you replied. He hummed, and replaced his hat over his head.

“Well I have to get back to the field, just... Promise me one thing,” he asked. You turned to him as you pulled your own shirt over your head.

“Yeah?”

“Root for me, won’t you?”

And then without another word he turned and left you alone.

-

“Where’ve you been?” Jeonghan asked you. “I was starting to get worried.”

You scoffed and held up the lollipop that Jihoon had given you as a parting gift. You could hear his words still echoing through your mind. “Root for me won’t you?” Root for him. A strange way to word it.

“Got sidetracked,” you replied briefly, waving the lollipop through the air and tipping your baseball cap pointedly. He hummed, giving you a slight narrowing of the eyebrows before gesturing down towards the field.

“Well you are lucky. The team is just now coming out.”

You didn’t bother looking down, you didn’t care to see the boys after all. There was a certain sort of euphoria running through your body. A certain excitement at what you had just gotten away with. At the idea of Lee Jihoon.

Oh, how you already missed him. His hands on you, that stupid mischievous smirk. You had never felt yourself so infatuated with someone so quickly and yet… Jihoon, you missed Jihoon.

You heard the crowd cheering as the baseball team came running on and you leaned back, looking at the candy in your hand. It was so sweet, you quite enjoyed the taste.

You looked up finally, and you noticed one of the boys on the field scanning the audience. Everyone else had begun to do their stretches and prepare for the game but one boy, shorter than the rest was looking up. You two made eye contact, and he smiled, and ruffled his hair with his hand putting a little and making a big show of the way that the sun was beaming down on him. You tried not to laugh at the look spread over his face.

Jihoon was on the other team’s baseball team.

“Strange.”

You jumped and glanced over at Jeonghan, your eyebrows raised high.

“What? What’s strange?” You blurted. He didn’t laugh, just stared in confusion at the field.

“It almost looks like Lee Jihoon is looking at you,” he mumbled. “But that’d be crazy.”

“Lee Jihoon?” You questioned, keeping a straight face. “Who?”

“He is famous at Pledis Academy. Short in stature, but scarier than anyone else there. They say that those who double cross him have died. That his father is a mob boss, and that messing with him or anyone in his life is a fate worse than sin,” Jeonghan recounted. The way he said it sent a shiver down your spine and you looked back down at the field. Jihoon was still staring at you, a knowing expression on his face.

“Is that really true?” You asked him, your voice a hushed whisper, afraid to even glance away from Jihoon.

“That’s what they say,” Jeonghan responded. “Being under Jihoon’s radar has to be a death sentence.”

You supposed that when you had seen Jihoon, something in you had known that he was dangerous. You could remember the way he held onto you, how he spoke to you, the way he looked at you. And yet, even knowing that he was potentially dangerous you didn’t care.

Being with Jihoon had been fun, and you could tell that while he may want to hurt you in some ways, it was only the ways that you wanted to be hurt by him.

You wiggled in your seat, and raised your hand to Jihoon in greeting from across the field. Lucky for you, Jeonghan didn’t notice. Jihoon smiled and raised his hand back and then turned to one of his teammates. Jeonghan shook his head in disbelief.

“You’re going to be careful right? It really seems like Jihoon is looking at you.”

You shrugged.

“I’ll be careful, but I doubt there is anything to worry about.”

[yesimwriting]

Falling Angels: chapter two

A/n took me longer to get around to writing part 2 than i thought!! i didn’t know there was an audience for this idea but im glad you guys liked it!!

Im adding a country to the grishaverse to make my story work,, def not a big deal i just needed a country in which i could control the history of without worrying about conflicting with cannon lol 

Link to part one: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/yesimwriting/652318577650696192 (lmk if this works ive never linked something to a tumblr post lol)

Series Summary: Y/n is a rising star in the most famous circus in Ketterdam because of her ability to see the future. Unfortunately for her, Kaz Brekker knows more of her backstory than he should, and he’s willing to use that to his advantage. The one thing he’s not betting on? That he doesn’t know her entire story

Chapter summary: Y/n gets a visitor before getting tricked into the most dangerous show of her life. 

Pairng: SOC x reader, Kaz Brekker x sunshine-y! Psychic! Reader 

--

My father seemed to love me more after two glasses of something amber. It was after these two glasses that he would tell me realities his inebriated self believed I needed to internalize. He’d pat my head affectionately and smiled at me as he told me that the world was a bad place. Most of his lessons are lost in my mind, but the one I remember most clearly is that there’s no such thing as a kept secret. There’s always a leak or a flaw or a factor you could not account for. He told me that if I wanted to keep a secret, I would have to decide what I was willing to risk for it. 

I know from Seria’s reaction to his presence that listening to Kaz is a risk, but it’s a risk I’m willing to take for my secret. “I don’t know what you think I am, but you’re mistaken.” It doesn’t really matter that he believes me. I have the paperwork I need to disprove him. “I have to get to my tent.” 

“The princess gets her own tent?” His words are saturated by mock casualness but I can feel his pride on how he delivered that line. 

My body is still tense from balancing over flames and his confidence only adds to my desire to unravel. I can’t get angry here. Not at him. Not with the way he grips that cane of his. “I don’t understand what--” 

“You may be able to play pretend here where no one wants to look twice at you, but I know what you are.” His stiffness leaves my skin prickling. “I know who you are.” 

I swallow back my panic. “Then who am I?” 

“You’re that king’s bastard--the one with a high bounty on her head.” Don’t back down. Even the smallest crack will confirm his story. “As long as she’s returned alive.” 

Thoughts of what my father would do to me if ever given the chance strike me with more anxiety than his presence does. “I’ve heard of the girl you’re talking about,” I admit, the lie leaving me as easily as the air leaves my lungs when I exhale. “But I’m not her.” 

“You’re not from Ketterdam, if you were you would have known who I was after you friend referred to me as Dirtyhands.” I have no defense, but I never claimed to be from Ketterdam. “You make your business claiming to be a psychic.” I am a psychic, but now is not the time to make that argument. “Elkosa is a relatively small and self efficient port kingdom, the island is nothing more than a jagged coastline barely larger than Ketterdam, but I have connections in all places.” He knows someone from Elkosa? I have to fight the instinct to move all of my weight on the balls of my feet, prepared to run. “A captain of the royal fleet told me the story of the night the King’s bastard ran into the meeting room the night before ten ships were meant to sail to Ravka.” 

He studies my reaction as I struggle to keep my expression blank. “None of that seems connected.” 

“Patience is a virtue most Saints are familiar with.” I roll my eyes. “The bastard couldn’t have been more than nine at the time, but the guards did not want to let her in. The King told them to let her interrupt. The sailor noted this because he had never made an exception to his meeting before. The girl described a nightmare to her father, a nightmare of a storm and ten dead birds. The king did not comfort her, she finished her story by saying that he asked to know about all of her dreams. She went back upstairs and the King continued the meeting as normal but the next day the King cancelled the trip.”

I remember that night as the night I realized that if I’m not careful, I’ll feel what I see in my visions. It felt like I was drowning. I felt the death of each of those men and instead of comforting me, my father nodded once like I had offered him advice and sent me back to my room. “And?” My defense is weak, my mind too lost in the memories of drowning. “Many smaller countries are superstitious.” 

“The next day the worst storm to have impacted that ocean occurred. For four nights and three days the storm continued.” 

I press my nails into my palms. “You don’t believe that I am precognitive, so that sailor’s unverified story has nothing to do with me.” 

“A princess that can see the future disappears at the same time a failing circus hires a girl who has no business in this city who claims to be able to see the future.” He adjusts his stance, taking pressure off the cane as if he’s preparing to need to use it for something else. “I am not fool enough to believe in coincidence.” 

“And I am not fool enough to crack beneath the vague threats of a man. In my experience, men always threaten with a blade when really all they’re in possession of is a butter knife. Try to drag me from here kicking and screaming, find a way to incapacitate me and put me on a ship to Elkosa, but when the King sees that you brought him a stranger he will have your head.” 

He blinks, expression hard as stone. I tense, preparing for a physical blow. “I didn’t expect you to be a half-decent liar, but I should have.” I bite my tongue to avoid resorting to something I can’t take back. Like begging. “Even if it’s in only half your blood.” 

“I am not her.” My stubbornness burns more than the need to survive. I inhale, hoping to shake the grasp of the sensation but it only worsens. The pinch of dread in my chest is heavy and familiar. A vision. 

No. Not now--not in front of him. I push against it even though I know that only makes it worse. Not now. Not now. I should be grounding myself but all I can think about is how stupid I am and how bad this situation is.

--

“I’m not an idiot, I know to be quiet. I see myself crouched somewhere dark. 

“Being defensive doesn’t make you any more intelligent.” It takes me a minute to recognize Kaz in the darkness. 

We’re somewhere small, our backs against the same wall but our shoulders do not touch. This vision is enshrouded by the feel of panic. 

This other me grimaces, but her eyes lack anger, “Remind me why I agreed to help you again?” 

“You never told me why,” he admits, “you can change your mind on participating and I can change my mind on whether or not you're more useful than your father’s money.”

Something loud crashes from behind the door we’re both staring at. “You’ll have no use for me or my father’s money if we die here.” I squeeze my hands together. 

He hesitates, “My ghost will.” 

The future-me almost smiles. “I wonder if I’ll be able to see ghost futures.” I hesitate, something strange behind my eyes. “I wonder if that can exist, if there’s a future beyond endings.” 

Future-Kaz is silent for a long second. “There should be,” he says, “for someone like you, at least.” 

I watch the way I take in his words. “You’d be there, too,” my voice is low, “your ghost at least.” I turn my head, staring at the door instead of him, “If you weren’t, I’d miss the brooding.” 

--

The vision leaves me with sweaty palms and swirling thoughts. All of my visions do that. Not all of them make me feel so confused. Apparently, he needs help and I agree to do so. At one point we’ll be pushed into a life or death situation and I won’t loathe him. 

I blink twice, forcing myself to hold onto the reality in front of me. I don’t have to agree--the future isn’t set in stone. For all I know tomorrow morning I’ll have a vision in which he kills me. 

“Are you ignoring me?” 

Shaking my head, I turn to face him. “You need help.” I don’t wait for his reaction. “You’re not here to return someone to the King of Elkosa, you’re here because you need someone that can see the future.” 

“I--” 

“It’s not that you won’t take me to Elkosa, it’s that you’d rather use my abilities for something.”

I’m confusing him again, but that’s okay. I’d rather deal with him confused than angry. “I need to know how a certain business deal of mine is going to be worth what it costs.”

He’s spent the entire time claiming he doesn’t believe in my power. Was that some kind of tactic? In the vision I saw, despite the panic surrounding the situation I didn’t feel panicked around him. The probability of that future occurring is probably low. I’ve been wrong before, the future changes too much for me to know everything. 

“That’s not how readings work,” I admit, “I don’t have that much control on them. Most of them come to me randomly. The events I see always involve me or someone I care about to a certain capacity. I can give someone a general glimpse into their future but I can’t promise I’ll see what they want. Sometimes I can see the general vision by just focusing on their energy but usually I need some physical contact for it to work.” That seems like a fair explanation. “Oh--and not all of my predictions come true, most are blurry, few are solid--the future is always moving.” 

Wait...the vision I saw where I was with Kaz wasn’t blurry. Those can be wrong, but it’s much rarer. Do I really agree to this? 

“Then maybe I should make it involve you.” His aggression has me forcing myself to stand my ground. He can threaten me all he wants but that won’t change things. “Or take the money your father would give me and cut my losses.” 

Every time I’ve purposefully destroyed a solid vision, something bad has happened. I’m genuinely considering it. “What do you need a psychic for, anyways?” 

“To get through the Fold.” 

Despite everything, I laugh. “I’ve never seen anyone get through the Fold, literally or in my visions.” 

He’s unphased by my doubt. “It’s happened.” 

I really don’t want to help him. “Well then good luck, I’m happy to part ways here.” 

I manage one step forward before he moves his cane in front of my path. I’m getting tired of this. “You’re assisting me one way or the other, whether that aid will be financial or through your services is up to you.” 

Anger pinches in my stomach the way it often does when I’m told what to do. The one thing centering me is the vision still reflecting in my thoughts. There’s no denying it--I had felt comfortable with him. There is a future in which I feel comfortable with him and I’m not sure I’ll be able to avoid it. 

“I won’t get in trouble for you,” I tell him, “The Ringmaster holds onto those indentured to him, especially the commodities that bring him profit.” 

There’s something stiff about his silence. I wonder if he’s always like this, pushing the weight of his presence onto those around him without saying a word. “When I have a goal, it is achieved. I’ll speak to him.” 

I cannot imagine a conversation I want to be involved in less. The Ringmaster and this man that Seria had labeled ‘Dirtyhands’. “I just had a vision--I saw your entire conversation and it ends with you missing an arm.” His stoic expression does not shift. “Okay, I’m aware that it wasn’t the funniest joke, but throw me a bone--you threatened to kidnap me and sell me to my father in order to extort me and I’ve been nothing but polite to you.” 

He’s quiet for a moment, something in his expression changing in a way I can’t read. “All you’ve done is lie since the moment you started to speak to me.” 

The optimist in me would like to think that his annoyance counts for banter. I shrug, feeling a little lighter than I did a second ago. I’m certainly not comfortable but I’m starting to see how to put up with the tension without letting it strain me. “Well, polite for my standards.” 

I let him brood. “You must have done well as a royal.” 

My past cuts through the peace I managed to grab onto. It’s not his fault, he has no way of knowing what the castle was like for me. I open my mouth, but I don’t know what I’m going to say. “I had my moments,” I finally settle on, hoping the echo of pain isn’t visible behind my eyes. 

I guess it doesn’t matter if he sees me bleed. He’s heartless, and I hate sympathy. 

“Y/n,” Seria’s voice is genuine anger, “You’ve turned into an idiot--first the tightrope walk and now entertaining whatever deal he’s trying to coax from you.” I love Seria, she’s the reason I didn’t die in the street when I first arrived in Ketterdam, but she sees me as a mindless child. “Whatever he told you, whatever he promised you--it’s a lie.” 

“He hasn’t promised me anything.” I need to calm her down. Once she’s calm, everything will be normal again. “And he knows.” I don’t have to turn to feel the way Seria gapes at me. “He knows who I am, so I have to do what he wants.” 

“You never have to do anything a man is forcing onto you, y/n. We’ll find a way--” 

“Seria, it’s fine,” I reach to touch her arm, “I’ll be fine, you can’t protect me from everything and you don’t have to.” 

Kaz throws a pointed glare at the man who was with him earlier. When did the stranger get here? “Boss, she’s faster than she looked, but I have what we need to get the girl--” 

“You’re late,” Kaz sighs, bored, “she’s agreed.” 

Wait--what was he going to do if I didn’t agree? “Out of curiosity, what are you talking about?” The man blinks twice, squeezing a rag between his ring-clad fingers. “You were going to use chloroform to kidnap me, weren’t you?” 

For some reason I don’t understand, the stranger gives me a look that’s a cross between sheepish and charming. “Nothing personal.” 

“Or original.” 

Seria pinches my arm. “Y/n,” she scolds, “your sense of humor is going to kill me one of these days.” 

I cringe, pulling my arm away. “When I met you, you were pickpocketing in the pleasure district, please remember that.” 

She rolls her eyes. “An attitude like that is going to leave you without a place to sleep at night.” 

I take her comment for the empty threat it is. Every other day she’s threatening to kick me out of her private trailer so that I’m forced to fight for cots or speak to the Ringmaster about my lodging arrangements. He’d give me what I want, but speaking to him feels so slimy I’d sleep in the woods before trying it. 

“Kaz.” I turn my head in time to see the girl that gave me the advice about the tightrope walker. “We need to go, he’s coming soon--you’ll do better to speak to him in the morning after she’s gone, that way he has nothing to hold over your head.” 

“Once I’m gone?” The girl had called me a Saint. I can appeal to her. “I’m not--I’m not going anywhere, I said I’d help.” 

Her eyes widen, sympathy reflected clearly in her dark irises. “There was never a version of this in which you ended up staying here.” I hear a hint of apology in her voice. “You won’t believe me, but I promise this will be better for you.” All of her pity is gone with those, replaced by something hard.

Seria responds for me, “I think you should go.” 

“What?” 

She almost smiles, but her eyes are painfully sad. “I never wanted you to be here forever. I don’t trust these people, but I trust their ability to get you out of here, even if only for a little while. Bad things are coming, and I think you’ll miss the worst of it if you go now.” 

What she alludes to is a blade in my heart. “You want me to leave you here to deal with it?” 

“Y/n, I’ve been hurt here more times than I can count--”

“No, I won’t leave y--” 

Seria squeezes my shoulder, “It’s not forever.” When she wants something, it’s almost impossible to get around it. “Besides, if I need you, you’ll see it.” 

My world feels to have lost the vibrance of color. I’ve left so much, but I let myself believe I wouldn’t leave her. I pull her into the hug. “The moment I see a vision of you in any type of danger, I’m coming back.” I hug her even tighter when she tries to pull away so that I can whisper something in her ear, “I’ll use this opportunity to leave the Ringmaster and then I’ll get you out, and together we’ll leave Ketterdam. We’ll find your child, like you always wanted to and they’ll know that they're lucky because they’re the only kid in the world to have you as a mother.” 

She squeezes me so tightly I find it hard to take full breaths. “Two,” Seria whispers, “I have two children.”

My eyes burn as her words find their way into my heart. “I love you, Seria.” 

“I love you too, my star,” she pulls away enough so that I can look her in the eye, “you don’t like being called a Saint, but I can’t think of anyone more deserving of the title.” 

Tears prick my eyes as she releases me. “I’ll find you.” 

“He’ll be coming soon,” the girl warns, “He spoke to an advisor about wanting to find you after the show.” 

No doubt to praise the fire stunt he forced onto me. Bastard. I nod once but I don’t move. I can’t bring myself to leave Seria until the girl places a hand on my elbow. 

--

Falling Angels Taglist: @glowstick-lesbian @cashlum @whatiswrongwithpeople @pass-me-jeez-it @thecraziestcrayon

[blackcherrykiss]

BLOOD BOUNDARIES - Enhypen OT7 Fanfic (ch.5)

[CH.1] [CH.2] [CH.3] [CH.4]  previous chapters

[CH.6] next chapter (now available!)

genre: vampire au, romance, drama, mystery, thriller

note: written inspired by enhypen's storyline, given-taken lyrics & teasers. please keep in mind all members are apart of this fanfic and the main theme is mystery/drama!

P.S Niki and Sunoo's roles become bigger in later chapters :) sorry I took 2 weeks to update. School + new enhypen teasers made me alter the story now jesus their lore is confusingly interesting. Didn't proofread half of this chapter LOL. Happy readings <3

"Well now that everyone is here, I'd like to announce we have a new student who just transferred here." Your eyes were immediately drawn to the student's platinum blonde hair. Despite his sharp and charismatic face, his eyes were delicate and innocent. He had an exceptionally small face and a sunkissed skin tone. The new student snapped himself around so that the entire classroom got a good look at him, "Hello, my name is Park Jongseong or Jay, call me whatever you feel." He bowed slightly, his voice having a cool ring that played over in your head.

"Everybody please welcome Jay to our astronomy class. Lend him any of our previous notes because midterms are coming up and I'd appreciate as a teacher if you guys helped him catch up before our long weekend coming up in two weeks." Your teacher gave a warm smile, nodding in such a way that made the rest of the class nod with her.

Without a student saying a word, everyone's eyes followed him as he took a seat at a desk a couple of rows in front of you.

You stared at him tirelessly, barely listening as your teacher rambled off-topic. You noticed Jay often stared out at the crying sky that occasionally flickered with lightning. His eyes focused intently on the woods. You were sure you weren't the only one who was interested in the new boy as you frequently caught other students glancing over at him every few seconds. Jay carried an attractive and dark aura that clearly contrasted from the crowd. Both girls and boys stared at him not because of his pretty face but because he was far different from the new students who had joined your school mid-semester.

The class flew by for you because of Jay until a simple but intriguing question was purposed by the teacher, "Bonus marks today if anyone can guess when the next full moon is." she lifted her eyes off the projector for a few moments, waiting for answers to come sailing.

"Saturday?" Somebody from the front called out, followed by numerous answers that ranged between the second week to the fourth week of the month.

"Come on now. Don't blurt out, give others chances to guess. Jay why don't you guess?" Your teacher questioned welcomingly, expecting no answer from him.

He leaned back in his chair, scraping the non-writing end of his ballpen on his thumb, "November 30." A gentle sound of thunder playing perfectly when he said the answer; like some sort of scene out of a comic.

"Ding ding ding!" Your teacher switched to a PowerPoint slide with the new unit name bolded, "I know this isn't part of the curriculum but I got it approved by the head of the school." She took a breath, giving students time to comprehend what was presented in front of them. "Our next unit will be looking deeper at the moon. More specifically, we'll be looking at both the sciency and non-sciency sides of this topic. And before anyone asks; no, you don't need to believe in astrology or superstitions to understand the non-sciency material. It's just very fascinating because it connects to many cultures." Your attention was now far away from Jay. You were enthusiastic about a topic for once in the class.

"And looks like we're running out of time." Your teacher's wrist clock blocking her eyes. "That's it for today's class everyone! I'll have your projects marked for next class, I promise! Have a good day." She said while shutting off the projector.

You slid all your handouts into your binder, not bothering to align the three-hole punches of the papers to their designated rings.

"Y/N before you go, do you mind helping out Jay? Today or tomorrow?" Your teacher stopped you on your way out.

"Like lend him my notes?"

"Yep! I just forgot to ask but he just left so you might be able to catch up to him. Maybe ask if he's got the notes yet."

You waved your goodbyes and chased the new boy down, his uniquely blonde hair standing out from the hallway of heads. You picked up the pace to catch up with his swift steps when you caught him chatting with Sunghoon and Jaeyun. Your feet froze straight down in their place.

Were they new friends? Or perhaps they were old friends?

You weren't going to bother talking to Jay as you already knew what kind of funny business would come up if you did. You could only watch them swing and lean their arms against each other in a close and friendly way. The picture was becoming more and more clear to you as to what kind of association Jay had with Sunghoon and Jaeyun perhaps even Heeseung, Sunoo or Jungwon.

...

You throw yourself violently over your thick mattress after finishing a long study and homework session at your dorm. The session wasn't productive but the time you spent surrounded by your schoolwork made it feel that way. Your dorm was awfully quiet that afternoon as your dormmates had music rehearsals for their extracurriculars. Nana had told you to come by the music rooms around a quarter past five when their practice was over to go down to the dining hall and have dinner but you couldn't think of a way to kill your remaining hour alone.

Phones were forbidden in your school and you often felt uncontrollably alone and bored with your thoughts during your free time. You could only lay tangled in your bed with your half progressed work in the corner of your eye. You shift on one side to watch your wide-open binder until you got some burst of motivation to finish studying until an idea hits you.

After eyeing your handouts from your astronomy class, you decide to hit the library and do some reading to get a little advanced in the class. Sure you could study for your other class but the sudden idea was far more worth your time in your mind. You quickly twirl out of your room, clearing your desk while you're at it. Excitedly, you hop into your shoes and head straight for the library. You were put in a good mood as you skipped along the long journey to the bookhouse.

The library was moderately packed as you don't bother to recognize any faces there. You get deja vu as you trail the same path you did when Sunghoon and Kyungeun were around. Sliding between the thin space between the bookshelves once again, you search for the section related to the moon, feeling dizzy at the sight of books your school owned. You could've made your life easier by asking the librarian but you were confident you could find it on your own. You move up and down the aisles as you catch a glimpse of theoretical and astrology related books that sit next to a couple of history books.

Backing up, you awkwardly bend your knees forward to get a better look at the small selection of books under the genre. You peel a random book spine out from its tight spot as if it had never been taken out before. You dust off the book a bit, reading the wordless cover and open it to check if it was really related to any sort of astronomy as you find a much stranger subject being discussed.

"Finding everything alright?" The librarian comes by, pushing a kart from the other end of the shelves. "I-I'm looking for books related to the moon." You say, standing up and forgetting you still had the old book in hand.

"The scientific information is just on the other side of this shelf but the section you were just looking at has some interesting stuff that might be related." The librarian stuffed herself in between the shelves to get toward you.

"Yeah, I noticed... This book I just picked up was talking about vampires." You laugh a little as you hold it up.

"Ah, that book..." She paused, snatching the book out of your hands to examine it, "I read this before... It relates to astrology. I think there are some parts of the book that go into detail about the moon, you should give it a read."

"Is this book just theoretical research about vampires though?" You were unconvinced with the idea.

"Yeah, real or not, our school grounds and the neighbouring town are talked about in the book. Apparently many years ago this place used to be a hotspot for vampires."  She looked you dead in the eyes.

"Do you think the information is true?" You questioned with deep curiosity upon her answer.

"Some information in there is haunting. I think vampires did exist." She said with some sort of distress beginning to seep into her face.

Shivers ran down your spine, if she was just trying to sell you the book, it was working damn well on you.

"I'll leave you be, no need to sign out the book, nobody ever takes it out so I trust you'll return it." And with that said, she left you cold with mystery as the book between your fingers stared at you with big round eyes.

You shake back to reality, checking your wrist just to find out your time has vanished. You shift your priorities to getting to the music department, throwing the book into your bag without much thought.

...

The sun was already going down around the afternoon as the days got shorter with autumn blossoming. You're standing between rooms full of beautiful voices and instruments, peering through every window attached to a door in an attempt to find your roommates. The issue was the widows didn't give much of a view as to who was in the rooms. But your ears were drawn to a gentle piano that played a bittersweet melody beneath the louder sounds of people singing in a harmonious glee. As you move in the forward direction of the hallway, the piano gets clearer to your ears. It became clear that the sound was coming out of a room with its door wide open. Your back attached it to the wall in fear of being seen as slide yourself until you meet the spine of the door where you could see into the shadowy room.

Your eyes lit up when they see a familiar platinum blondie behind the keys. The melody was enchanting and was played in such a personal way as the sounds escaped into the noisy environment where it hoped to go unheard. Jay had reached the final notes of his song as he turned his head in your direction. It was as if he knew of your present from the moment you started watching him from the doorway.

[queenmuzz]

So, anyways, I saw something @liulyam had posted for Spardaverse a while back I DON'T KNOW HOW I MISSED THEIR WONDERFUL ART FORGIVE ME! Anyways, I saw specifically THIS piece of art, and it sent the brain juices into overdrive....

So, the same thing plays out everyday. Nero gets off the school bus and runs in, backpack flying, and tells his uncle excitedly about his day at school, before racing up the stairs to tell his dad the same thing, in the same adorably animated manner. Unfortunately, Vergil doesn’t respond the same way as Dante, sitting still, not even acknowledging that the boy is talking to him. Initially, Nero doesn’t mind, understanding his recently rescued father has been through a lot, and needs time and patience to recover. But as the months pass by, Dante notices that his nephew doesn’t run up the front steps as eagerly, his descriptions of school become shorter, paler. And most worryingly of all, Nero spends less and less time with Vergil, preferring to peek his head in the man’s room, sigh, and slowly make his way to his own room, closing the door sullenly.

“What’s going on Nero?” Dante takes the plunge and asks him one day, before the boy trudges up the stairs. “You haven’t been that rambunctious ball of energy lately.”

Nero kicks the worn hardwood floor. “It’s dad… I know you told me I need to be patient,” his face scrunches up at the word, it’s a thing he’s never been able to truly do. He’s definitely a Sparda boy. “But he just keeps ignoring me. He won’t talk, won’t even look at me. It’s like I don’t even exist! Maybe...maybe he doesn’t want me to exist-”

“Hey now!” Dante needs to nip this train of thought in the bud. He knows first hand where it can lead to. Had he not found Nero nearly nine years ago, while wandering the world, drinking up every bar’s entire inventory in a vain attempt to fill a void in his chest, who knows where he would have ended up? “Your dad...well, even without the stuff he’s been through, he was never much of a talker. Always preferred to have his actions speak for him.” “But that’s the thing, Uncle Dante!” Nero blurts out, close to tears. “He DOESN’T DO ANYTHING!!! He doesn’t care!” And with that, Nero bolts up the stairs, past Vergil’s room, not even checking up on him, and slams his bedroom door with such force, Eva’s portrait wobbles on the desk and tips over. Dante sighs, sets his mom back up, and slowly makes his way up the stairs. Not to Nero’s room; Dante knows better than to provoke that tiger cub when he’s in an ornery mood. It’s time to talk to his dad.

Vergil, or what’s left of him, is sitting in an oversized chair, the only one that fits his giant frame, facing the window, the only one in the place with a view. If he’s heard the ruckus (and Dante knows he has), he makes no indication that it affects him.

“Verg,” he calls out, “I know it's been rough, I know I piled on a lot of shit on you, the whole thing about having a kid and everything these past nine years. I’m not expecting you to just snap back to normal, and start insulting me like in the good old days, but…” Dante’s not good at this sort of thing. He’d rather Royal Guard his emotional turmoil. It used to be with alcohol, but now it’s with a cheery smile. “The kid needs a sign that you’re still there, you’re still fighting. I know you are, hell, you’re the one that helped me take down that bastard Mundus on Mallet Island. But that’s the thing, Nero’s only heard things that you’ve done, not seen them. You need to show him yourself, otherwise…” Vergil makes no motion, and even Dante, stubborn as he is, knows it’s fruitless to continue much more, “you’re gonna lose him too.” And then Dante heads back downstairs, to see if he can whip up a snack to bribe his nephew to come out of his lair. Strange, he swears he hears the rustle of fabric from Vergil’s room, as if his brother had just moved.

--

Nero sits at Dante’s desk, working on his math homework. It’s his least favourite thing, fractions. Uncle Dante is a whiz at them, and usually would be able to help him, but he’s gone out on an ‘Really quick, won’t be more than a half hour’ errand run. It’s been nearly two hours, and the only other adult here is his dad… so Nero is practically by himself.

Suddenly, the hairs on the back of Nero’s neck prick up, and he hears scrabbling at the front door. He’s still not allowed to go out with Uncle Dante or Auntie Lady on their hunts, but he knows what a demon feels like, especially when there are a lot of them. ESPECIALLY when they’re really powerful Instinctively, he grabs a chair, and wedges it underneath the door knob, and looks around in a panic. He’s never had to deal with a demon attack by himself before. He remembers his uncle has a case of weapons that he was told to NEVER touch beside the jukebox, but Nero figures that he can say sorry to his uncle later. He smashes the lock with a billiard ball, and yanks open the lid. He’s disappointed. He thought there would be a treasure trove of swords and guns, but all there are two swords, one red and one blue. But he doesn’t have much of a choice, and the whine of protesting wood ends with a thunderous CRASH, and demons pour through. “FIND THE HERETIC GOD SLAYER!” One says, before turning in Nero’s direction. Without much warning, it shrieks as it launches at him with razor sharp obsidian claws.

Nero might be little, but his uncle has trained him well. Whipping the two blades around, they connect the monster’s waist in a pincer move, and like a pair of scissors, bisect it in a shower of blood and ash. Nero swears he hears a voice (or is it two voices?) approvingly say, “Impressive!” but doesn’t have a chance to savour his very first demon kill as another demon comes at him, knocking him over. The reddish gold blade clatters away on the floor, way out of reach, not that it matters. Nero’s pinned to the ground by a skeletal foot, as the demon lifts a blade to impale him. He squeezes his eyes shut, preparing for the end.

The final blow never comes. Instead, he hears shriek, and the pressure on his chest instantly subsides. He opens his eyes, to see it stagger back, its decapitated head clattering to the floor. Its brethren likewise are either dead or dying, their high pitched screams shattering the glass in the jukebox.

Nero’s first thought is that his Uncle has finally come home, Dante’s come to save me! But what’s odd is that there’s no sound of Dante’s beloved Ebony and Ivory. And last he checked, his uncle never was able to shoot out blue ghostly blades that now impale most of the horde. But it doesn’t matter, because his uncle is here to save the day! That is, until he yelps as he’s quickly, but not roughly picked up and held as whoever holds him spirits him out of the building, the blue blade still clutched in his hand. Nero begins to panic, but hears a voice, almost like a croak, as if the vocal cords had been in disuse for years…

Nero

And even though the voice is harsh sounding, it's one of the most comforting things Nero’s ever heard.

--

Of course that half hour errand run would turn out to be three hours. But when he was promised a free pizza for clearing out that demon nest on the West side, Dante couldn’t say no. Besides, he’d pick up some freshly baked chocolate chip cookies on the way home as a way of apologising to Nero. The kid might be cross with him, but he’d forgive him the moment he smelled those chewy biscuits. Dante might even let him have more than half of the package.

So when he gets home to find his front door smashed open, his office trashed, and worst of all his jukebox shattered-wait no, worst of all, his nephew missing, all thoughts of pizza and cookies vanish from his mind as he rushes in, guns drawn. There’s no sign of life, but the black splatters of demonic ichor painting the walls shows that some real bad mojo went down here. The strangest thing though, is Agni, a weapon Dante was definitely sure he had under lock and key, laying there on the ground, alone.

“Alright, time to spill your guts” he yanks the blade up so that he’s at eye level with the pommel, “What the hell happened here?” Agni makes the same response as Vergil. Which means silence.

“I swear to…” he pulls out ivory, and presses the muzzle into the (more troubled than usual looking face), “You’re gonna tell me what went down, or we’re gonna see how many bullets I can jam into your ugly mug.” “You told us to remain silent.” He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, consider that rule temporarily relaxed.” “There was an attack.” Agni starts, its distorted voice unusually agitated, “The little one fought with great valour, but eventually even he was overwhelmed.” Dante’s blood goes cold. “But then a great bulk of a demon came out and slaughtered the attacking filth, and spirited the boy away, alongwith my brother.”

“Rudra’s still with Nero?” That’s odd, if they were trying to capture the kid, they’d disarm him first.

“Yes, they are not far, I think they’ve stopped moving.”

“Alright,” Dante makes his way out of the disfigured wood, “let’s go find the kid and your bro...and if he’s alright, maybe I’ll reconsider giving back your talking privileges.” “Oh, that would be wonderful, will you allow us to leave the dark box? It’s been so long since we’ve fought, we crave batt- ”

“I said IF, and I won’t guarantee anything if you keep jabbering on and on.”

--

Angi directs the demon hunter to a dark secluded alleyway, a few blocks from Devil May Cry. One hand on its hilt ready for attack, the other fingering the trigger of Ivory, he cautiously makes his way past the recently overturned garbage cans, to a shadow alcove, where a shadow crouches. Beside it is Rudra, glowing faintly, it’s turquoise blue light providing enough illumination for Dante to make out what has happened. There’s Nero, peacefully slumbering away, apparently unharmed, not even his shirt is torn. And holding him gently, stroking his downy white hair with a giant hand...is Vergil… And for once, even though he is still staring straight ahead, there’s a different look on his face, a sense of contentment.

Huh Dante thinks to himself as he holsters the weapons, I was right, actions DO speak louder than words.

[persephone-plasmids]

Nuka-World

A Deacon X Sole Fanfic

[AO3]

[Part 1] [Part 2]

Nuka-World

“I guess I’m just confused about why they dedicated an entire section of the park to their space theme. Why not just a ride?” MacCready asked, eyeing the Star Port tower in the Galactic Zone at Nuka-World.

“To get the youth excited about space exploration,” Danse answered in his usual serious tone. “They wanted to recruit potential cadets young.”

MacCready pulled a face at this explanation. “Do kids really like space, though?”

“Seriously, MacCready?” Sole asked. “You have a kid. You should know this.”

Deacon listened to the group theorizing over the chosen aesthetic of Nuka-World while he slid a Cappy shirt over his head with a grin.

“I know Dez sent us here to recover the kidnapped synth, but all this free merch is going to be incredibly distracting,” Deacon said.

At his words, Sole’s eyes grew large. “Where did you get that? I want one!”

Deacon nodded to the merchandise rack behind him and smiled as Sole scampered over with pure joy in her eyes. Danse watched with slight disapproval while MacCready continued examining the Star Port in confusion.

Bringing the tin can and the grumpy sniper along hadn’t been Deacon’s idea. Dez had said they’d need more than just Deacon and Sole on this mission since they had so much ground to cover. When Deacon had suggested Tinker Tom, Dez had just laughed and told Sole to ask some of “her people”. Whatever that meant.

Apparently, Sole’s “people” were a self-hating synth boy scout and MacCready, whose skill Deacon respected, but he still didn’t like the idea of someone honing in on his mission.

“This entire park seems wildly unsafe for children,” Danse said, his thick brows knitted together in a line.

“Nuka Cola has always been a bit shady,” MacCready agreed. “Makes sense that their park wouldn’t be quite as kid-friendly as it should be.”

“All right, I’m ready to get this show on the road,” Sole said, walking out from the back room of the merchandise area with a Cappy shirt and cowboy hat.

“No fair! I didn’t see the hat!” Deacon whined. “I would have taken it for myself.”

“We can share custody,” Sole promised with a grin in Deacon’s direction.

Deacon screwed up his face as he thought this over. “Fine, but I get weekends and holidays.”

“Deal.” Sole gave him one of her smiles that reminded him why he needed to keep his distance from her emotionally. One of the smiles that made him want all the things he couldn’t have.

He ignored it.

“You’re both wrong,” MacCready said, snatching the hat quickly from Sole’s head and placing it on his own. “This baby’s coming with me.”

Sole laughed at this, making Deacon feel that familiar pang of jealousy again. He prided himself on making Sole laugh. He didn’t love that someone else was currently taking over his favorite job.

“You two are going to Dry Rock Gulch, I guess it’s only fair that you get the cowboy hat, RJ,” Sole said, straightening the hat on MacCready’s head with a familiarity that made Deacon feel much less in control of himself than he normally was.

“We should get going before it gets too dark,” Deacon said with a forced smile. “We don’t want Danse rusting from the evening dew.”

“Negative, soldier, “ Danse said. “My power armour doesn’t rust.”

“At ease,” Deacon responded with a little salute at the former Brotherhood of Steel Paladin. “Try to enjoy yourself a little Danse. Despite what they told you in the Brotherhood, it won’t actually kill you.”

Danse gave him a look like he wasn’t amused by his joke before turning away and heading towards Dry Rock Gulch with MacCready.

“Geez,” Deacon said. “Never send that guy on a stealth mission. I swear we’ll be able to hear his power armor clomping around through the whole park.”

“Well then I guess it’s a good thing we already cleared out those raiders, huh?”

“No thanks to the tin can and grumpy pants over there,” Deacon said, now smiling at Sole.

“That one was a Deacon and Sole special,” Sole answered. “We didn’t need any outside assistance.”

Deacon nodded at this, watching Sole for a moment too long before realizing he was being weird. He realized that a lot around Sole. He had to constantly remind himself how he acted around people who didn’t make him feel the way Sole did. It was exhausting.

“I say we head over to that old junkyard. If I was a Synth in hiding, that’s where I’d go,” Sole said.

“You got it, boss,” Deacon answered, following her as she began walking.

The two walked in silence for a long time. Deacon guessed that Sole was thinking about the mission. Deacon, of course, was having another mini existential crisis regarding Sole. But he was also attempting to lie to himself about his feelings, which turned it into a whole thing. He could be a very convincing liar.

When the two rounded an old abandoned building, Deacon was shocked to see a crowd right in front of them.

“Whoa, hold up,” Deacon said, placing his arm straight out to stop Sole from walking.

It was too little too late though. The group of people in space suits standing had clearly seen them. How had Deacon missed them? They were literally a handful of weirdos in space suits.

Sole had distracted him with her very existence again. This was why he had to stop letting himself explore any potential feelings for her. They just got in the way of their missions. They made him sloppy. And sloppy could very well mean “dead” in this situation.

“Greetings,” one of the space-suit-clad people said, taking a step forward.

Deacon placed one hand behind his back where he kept a gun tucked in the waistband of his jeans. The other hand was wrapped tightly around Sole’s arm, keeping her in a safe position slightly behind him.

“Listen, we’re looking for information on--” Sole began, but the woman who appeared to be the leader of the odd group before them interrupted her.

“Are you here to help us get the spaceship up and running?” the woman asked. Her slightly crazed eyes were wide and bloodshot.

Sole furrowed her brow and looked at Deacon who was still trying to understand what he’d just heard.

“The great power above told us they would send someone soon. You, my weary traveler, must be the one to help us rebuild our spacecraft.”

“No,” Sole said slowly. “We’re just here too--” but again she was interrupted, this time by Deacon’s hand placed clumsily over her lips.

“Wait just… shush for a second,” he whispered with the widest grin she’d ever seen. “This is amazing.” He looked like a kid on Christmas. “Yes, my fair… uh… lady. We were sent from the head honcho in the stars to come offer our support for your interstellar travels.”

Deacon’s voice had adopted a grand tone and he released his concealed gun to instead gesture widely at the group in front of him.

“Excellent news, kind sir,” the woman said. “I am Dara. Come. We don’t have much time. Follow us.”

“Lead the way my most excellent and esteemed priestess,” Deacon said.

Sole looked over at the spy incredulously, mouthing a quick, “What are you doing?” to him.

She wasn’t sure if Deacon hadn’t understood her question or if he was just willfully ignoring her, because he simply clapped his hands together and mouthed back, “I know, right?”

The space-suit-clad group led them through the old junkyard to a red metal object that looked an awful lot like an old carnival ride. It was supposed to look like a UFO, but anyone could see it wasn’t any kind of actual aircraft.

“Ah yes, a fine specimen indeed,” Deacon said when they approached the ride. His voice was still serious as he spoke, though Sole knew him well enough to hear the pure glee behind it. “And what, pray tell, can we do to get this up and running for you again?”

“We have the fusion cells we need right here,” Dara said. “But we don’t know how to install them. If you can get our craft up and running, I know we’ll be on our way to our higher forms soon enough.”

“You’ll be on your way somewhere,” Sole scoffed under her breath, obviously not enjoying this nearly as much as Deacon.

“Well then step inside and get comfortable,” Deacon said with a grin. “I’ll get these fusion cores installed… uh… posthaste.”

Sole snorted at this, to which Deacon elbowed her. He didn’t want her giving him away just because she found him amusing.

Dara led the group of space cadets into the UFO ride and shut the door behind her, leaving Sole and Deacon alone.

“Okay, what in the actual world is going on?” Sole asked incredulously.

“I know! This is seriously amazing,” Deacon said, barely able to contain his joy. “These people actually think this is a spaceship!”

“I’m pretty sure this is a Gravitron,” Sole said. “They had them at the local carnival every year before the war. I used to love this ride.”

Sole’s eyes adopted that distant look they got whenever she talked about her time before the Vault-Tec incident. It made him feel sad for her, before he selfishly realized that if Vault-Tec hadn’t frozen her, he never would have met her.

“Will it be safe for me to fix it for them?” Deacon asked, Sole. He wanted to mess with the space cult, not kill them.

“They might get a bit motion sick,” Sole began. “But they should be fine.”

At her words, Deacon’s face adopted a mischievous grin that made Sole’s cheeks flush. “Excellent.”

Deacon installed the fusion cores Dara had given him without much effort before holding his hand out to Sole.

“Shall we?”

Sole let a grin spread across her full lips, taking Deacon’s hand in her own. “I can handle this ride, but I’m not sure you really understand what you’re in for.”

“You don’t think I could handle your ride?” Deacon asked, raising an eyebrow suggestively at her.

Sole took a step closer to Deacon, leaning close to him so that her lips were against his ear. “I know you couldn’t handle my ride, stealth boy.”

Deacon shivered involuntarily at her words and the feeling of her breath against his ear, but as quickly as the moment had happened, it passed. Sole pulled Deacon into the UFO ride with her, leaving him with a lingering mental image that he’d have to examine more thoroughly when he was alone later.

“This impeccably dressed harbinger of your more superior forms has successfully repaired your vessel,” Sole announced loudly, holding up Deacon’s hand. She looked over at him with a grin that set his heart on overdrive. “Not only was he able to repair your vessel, but he’s also promised to personally make sure his work is beyond reproach by coming along with you.”

“The star angel speaks the truth,” Deacon said, making Sole snort laugh again, though she was a bit better about covering this one up. “Sole, if you’ll do the honors.”

“Everybody up against the wall,” Sole said, watching as the space cult obeyed. “Deacon? Up against the wall?”

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted you to say that to me,” He said with a grin.

Sole just rolled her eyes and pointed at the wall, waiting for him to oblige. When everyone was in position, she took her place in the middle of the metal room and flipped the switch.

In an instant, the ride began to hum as the floor started to vibrate. At first, nothing moved and Deacon worried he hadn’t actually managed to fix the ride. But as the humming grew louder, the room began to spin.

Sole stayed in place in the center of the room and Deacon tried to keep his eyes on her, but as the rotations became quicker and quicker, he had to close his eyes. The force of the rotating ride crushed him against the padded wall of the room and he had to press his lips together to keep from getting sick. Just when he thought he couldn’t take it anymore, the ride began to slow down until it eventually stopped.

When Deacon opened his eyes, the world was still spinning. Sole was watching him as if waiting for him to speak to the cult, but he couldn’t form a single thought.

“The mission has been a success,” Sole finally said, seeing that Deacon was completely useless at the moment. “Your craft has been repaired and will be ready for your final voyage once your preparations are complete.”

“Bless you,” Dara said, looking at Sole. “Bless both of you.”

Without another word, Dara and the other cultists left the UFO, leaving Deacon clutching the wall and breathing heavily. In an instant, Sole was beside him. She supported him as Deacon tilted his head down.

“Told you you couldn’t handle this ride,” Sole said, her voice lined with amusement.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Deacon said. “I feel fantastic. Think I might go run a marathon with Hancock later.”

Sole placed her hand on Deacon’s cheek gently, lifting his eyes to hers. He still felt sick, but the more she touched him, the less he seemed to notice the motion sickness.

“Hey lightweight, what do you think Danse and MacCready will say when they find out an old carnival ride floored you?”

“That question is irrelevant because if you tell them I’ll just deny everything,” he responded. “And of the two of us, who’s the better liar?”

Deacon was grinning at Sole again, but she didn’t smile back. Instead she was watching him curiously, her eyes roaming his face. He was confused by her expression before he realized just how clear she looked to him. Clearer than normal.

Panicked, Deacon brought his hand up to his face to find his sunglasses missing. He’d always been good at putting up walls between himself and everyone else, but he had a hard time doing that with Sole. The sunglasses were the only way he could keep some semblance of distance from her. Without them, he worried she’d see right through him. See who he really was. See how he really felt about her.

Deacon looked around himself for the sunglasses before Sole held them up wordlessly.

“You win, Charmer,” Deacon said with a nervous laugh. “Time to give them back now.”

Deacon reached out for the glasses but Sole held them behind her back with a wicked grin.

“I don’t know that I want you to put them back on. I’m enjoying finally seeing you,” she said, her eyes seeming to bore into his soul.

“No one wants to see this hot mess, trust me,” Deacon said, reaching for the sunglasses but failing to get them. All he managed to do was somehow get even closer to Sole.

“How did I not realize your eyes are blue?” Sole asked, her voice soft. “They’re… stunning.” She instantly blushed at her own words but didn’t back down. And she still didn’t give Deacon his sunglasses back. “They’re not just blue… they’re like… ice blue.”

“Must be all the surgery,” Deacon joked, even though his voice sounded flat.

The truth was, Deacon changed his appearance all the time. But his eyes? His eyes were his own. Always had been. They were the one thing he didn’t change about himself. So to have Sole admiring them in such a personal way felt… amazing.

And dangerous.

Sole bit her lip as she watched him and Deacon swallowed hard. “Why don’t you want anyone to see you?” she asked.

He wanted to tell her that he was scared they wouldn't like what was left after all the lies were stripped away. But he didn’t say that. Instead he said, “Because I don’t want them to fall in love with my beautiful face. It just wouldn’t be fair to destroy some unsuspecting wastelander like that.”

At his words, Sole laughed softly, just like he hoped she would. If she was laughing then she wasn’t asking him questions that hit too close to home for him.

“I mean, now that you’ve seen the full effect of my icy blue gaze, you surely must understand that I wield an ungodly amount of power.”

“I really don’t know how you manage to fit yourself and your ego into your tiny sleeping quarters in the Railroad,” Sole said with a roll of her eyes.

“There’s enough room,” Deacon said, his voice now teasing. “More than enough room if you ever want to join the two of us.”

And that was it. The truth of the matter. Deacon could flirt with Sole all day long if it was all a big joke. But if he ever told her that he’d dreamed about what it would be like to wake up next to her, he’d lose the small amount of control he still pretended to have in this partnership. He couldn’t tell her that he longed for the casual and familiar touches of two people who trusted each other so completely that their physical contact was expected and normal.

“Do you really want me to take you up on that offer?” Sole asked, a challenge in her eyes.

Deacon still hadn’t learned that he couldn’t tease her about their flirtation for too long. She’d always make it real. And as Deacon knew, real was dangerous.

“Or should I just hold onto these sunglasses for you?”

Deacon leaned forward, sliding his arms around Sole’s waist. He hated himself for the fact that she actually closed her eyes as he got closer to her, obviously expecting him to make a move. But instead, he grabbed the sunglasses that she hid behind her back before pulling away from her with a forced grin.

“Got em,” he said.

Sole opened her eyes, and when Deacon saw just how much disappointment they held, his heart broke. When he heard Sole try to cover up her disappointment with a joke the way he always did, his heart broke even more.

“Well then I guess it’s just you and your ego in your bed tonight,” she said. “Let’s go find Danse and MacCready to see if they’ve had any luck locating the Synth.”

“Oh right, we’ve got an actual reason to be here,” Deacon said, quickly putting his sunglasses back on and feeling immensely more comfortable behind his wall of protection.

“We actually have two reasons to be here,” Sole said as she walked towards the door of the UFO ride. “We need to find the Synth, but we also need to go to the fun house in Kiddie Kingdom.”

“Did I miss that part of the briefing, Charmer?” Deacon asked, following Sole to the bright junkyard outside.

“Dez probably just forgot to tell us how important it is that we go to the funhouse,” Sole said “But you and I are professionals. We have to check everything thoroughly.”

Sole raised her eyebrows at Deacon as she walked away and Deacon was left wondering how Dez ever could have thought it was a good idea to send Sole and himself to an amusement park together.

They’d never get anything done.

[Part 4]

Based on the time my OC and Deacon ran into that crazy cult in Nuka-World :P

[razorblade180]

Interdimensional Moms pt4

Part 3 here! <-

The tales had be interesting. The tales had even been emotionally gripping, yet all of them so far didn’t seem to register at the moment as Ruby’s teammates looked at her with the same excitement she used to give her own mother during story time. Ruby couldn’t help but give a little smile.

Ruby:I take it you’re ready for my turn? You do know it’s not exactly a sunshine and rainbows story, right?

Weiss:We figured as much, but....

Yang:You’re so different! From the moment you showed up I could just feel it in my gut. You have this...presence about you. Not to mention intsene confidence.

Blake:Yang is right. You said you beat your Salem when your seventeen. That’s...scary if I’m being honest. Such a drastic departure from any of our worlds.

Ruby:*red* Hehehe ummm I guess I’m just awesome? Really I don’t think it’s the most outstanding feat. At least by my worlds standards I suppose. I mean sure, I’m consider cream of the crop there too but there’s talented people and challenges all over that would put me through my paces still. I’m just...me.

Weiss:Sigh...honestly, I suppose that means our own skills must pale in comparison to our counterparts.

Ruby:Mmmm I wouldn’t say that for sure. My Yang would kill me if she heard this but there’s something about the one right here that has spark I dig.

Yang:Really?

Ruby:Uh huh. Can’t put my finger on it but I think you take her if you want it bad enough. As for Weiss....couldn’t tell ya. Haha, I know better than anybody to not underestimate the power of mother, and you pumped twins out.

Weiss:Not sure if those are pity points or real ones but thanks either way.

Blake:You don’t even have to tell me I’d lose. Just gave an entire story about me an my condition.

Ruby:Don’t feel too bad about it. I can’t imagine much reason for you two to fight for any reason. You’re both too reasonable to not reason with yourself.

Blake:Aw I’m touched.

Yang and Weiss:We aren’t....

Ruby:Hahaha I’m just saying! So, I guess I take things from the top like you all? From what I learned from all of you our Beacon experiences really are more or less the same, not counting certain interactions between a bookworm faunus and an adorkable blonde knight. Enrolled early, blew up the entrance, Weiss was rude, Yang ditched me, all the same beats.

Yang:There’s no super badass change like you beating Cinder the night of dance and making our entire lives easier?

Ruby:Ha! I wish I was that legit. No, I was very much the young girl tripping in heels that night. Vytal festival came around and was attacked, then Beacon fell. Pyrrha was lost and so was Penny. Difference being that was my last time seeing her, unlike Weiss’s story apparently.

Weiss:Yeah that...that’s a little bit of shock to be frank. Sorry.

Ruby:No worries. Not like you did anything and it was decades ago for me now. After that day is when I started to get a bit more serious I think. I had always taken being a huntress seriously and never slacked of in trying to live my dream. However, my perspective may have honed in on just how do or die life his when you’re the one choosing to walk into unknown danger. Team RNJR’s first and only mission, save the world!

Yang:Sub mission: Flirt with Jaune Arc.

Ruby:*blushing* We do not choose who we fall in love with it. But yes, that may have been a personal pseudo mission for me. He’s my first friend at Beacon for crying out loud and I you know.....thought he was cute then too.

WBY:Yeah that checks out.

Ruby:What does that mean!?

Weiss:Ruby, even my Ruby admits to finding Jaune attractive and having a crush on him back in the day.

Blake:Same.

Yang:I already went into enough detail on how my little sister feels about Jaune. Your just the reality where you pounced on the opportunity and never let go. Struck when the iron was hot and none of us were around; sly fox.

Ruby:Gee you make it sound underhanded. It isn’t like I intended to actively pursue him. Everyone was really sad and stressed traveling to Anima. There was a tension in the air. One that really strained us. I did my best to keep focus, but a leader is only as put together as team. Ren and Nora confided one another as usual and I tried being there for Jaune because seeing him emotionally shut down was rough; so I did my best to be there for him. Then...he ended up being there for me and I was the one who needed comfort. All the airing out and late nights just...led to....*red*

Blake: “Breaking the tension?”

Ruby:I guess that’s one way of putting it. We were lonely. I hid my feelings best I could under the veil of comfort in the moment. Not that needed to. He made it pretty clear that he wanted me in the same way I wanted him. I just the two of us were too scared to ask for promises we weren’t sure we could keep so we loved in the moments we could, so to speak.

Weiss:If it wasn’t under dire situations, all that sounds oddly romantic.

Ruby:Right!? Looking back at it makes the entire thing seem romantic but I definitely wouldn’t wish a similar experience on anybody! I guess it’s what I wished for when I fantasized huntress life huh? Things obviously got better along the way. Our relationship got a bit more serious right before we got to Haven. Then Tyrian and other crazy stuff happened that threw all of us into panic mode again before slowly getting better again by a lot.

Yang:We showed up?

Ruby:Bingo! You and Weiss, met Oscar, and then eventually Blake came back. Things were on the up and up.

Weiss:Uh, Haven attack?

Ruby:We lived, up and up. Yeah you got stabbed but you know...that’s not new I’m sure.

Weiss:Yeah I have the scar and I’m still little pissed.

Ruby:Valid. Anyways, so my Atlas experience was different as hell. There was no formation of Remnants armies like Weiss spoke of or even between two kingdoms like Blake. Yang, what happened yours again exactly?

Yang:Nonsense. Cinder showed up with lackeies but not Salem’s lackies. Those people showed up separately, then Adam came back from wherever the hell he- a lot! A lot of people showed up for different reasons but also the same reason and to be frank, we all almost got shot by the military for being in bases that quote unquote, “didn’t exist.”

Ruby:Man I wish we traded. That at least sounds crazy enough to be fun. Just a rollercoaster in the dark basically. My experience was probably as hectic, but also way more streamlined. We showed up, and then all hell broke loose. Specially a mass grimm invasion lead by Cinder and her annoying associates. We were there for about three weeks updating General Ironwood and getting our barrings together when it happened. I wanna call it a hit and run tactic but it was clearly planned in advanced. Mechs were hacked again, traitors in the military, grimm lying in wait before hand; it was chaos! All for the relic.

Blake:Who was the maiden?

Ruby:Never met her. By the time we got there, Ironwood was panicking because she had vanished, taken right from under his nose. It was some young girl apparently, really young. The attack on Beacon looked like child’s play to this. Mantle got attacked, grimm were on the chains, they tried dropping Atlas to the ground; all a diversion for a relic. We all should’ve died, and yet, we didn’t. Winter and Weiss weeded out traitors, huntsman and military held the line, Yang bested Hazel with Nora, Qrow and I cut down Tyrian! Ren, Blake and Jaune helped the kingdoms while Ironwood struck down Watts. Nobody was in the mood to die that day. There wasn’t gonna be another Beacon. By all means, we were pissed. Even Raven showed up of all people.

Yang:What!?

Ruby:You can’t attack a kingdom without the world knowing. Especially when traitors leak info. Honestly she came for you though, or she never left to begin with. Couldn’t tell ya. Thanks to Maria I had a bit more handling with my eyes. That helped a lot. Without them and Os-

She stopped herself, choking on the words. The zest and excitement of recalling the heroic feats of her friends dimmed slightly with her smile. Her joyful smile became bittersweet like the memory.

Ruby:Then there was Oscar, the real warrior on that flamed filled night. That battle had to have been three days at least. We were so driven, and so tired. I was tired, but Cinder, Neo, and the others with her at the time weren’t; always showing up at the worst time. I managed to push Cinder back in a fight but grimm and others still swarmed. We were at a point that grimm very well might’ve did us in and the villains didn’t have to push any harder. But Oscar changed that. Hehe, what’s it about country folk that makes people like him and I not hesitate to grit our teeth? That dork looked at me, gave me the biggest smile on the the steps to Atlas, and then he left. His hair went white as he twirled the cane and then he left, forever. Oz came out, and he left nothing to the imagination. “Limited magic” my butt. He obliterated grimm and made a barrier aroma Atlas while everyone else cleared Mantle long enough for the world to send reinforcements. Salem didn’t get the relic, but she got the maiden and thousands of casualties. Oscar being one of them. Also, Whitley....he was in critical condition for a very long time.

Weiss:What do you mean...critical condition?

Ruby:Everything happened so fast Weiss. Panic was high, buildings fell....a piece on him. I wasn’t there but when I eventually found you, you were nearly hysterical and banged up. By some miracle he lived even though we could not reach him and he did not get aid for awhile. We thought him dead. It was only after everything we learned somebody got him. Being rich never paid off more than with medical bills. Thanks to youth and medicine he can still walk, but he can only do so much before being tired. He also left Atlas. The cold hurts.

Weiss:So, I run the company because he can’t?

Ruby:I wouldn’t put it that way, but it was one of dozens of reasons that made that goal stronger for you. Relax though, both of you get plenty of time to be witty siblings like I told you earlier.

Weiss:I know. It’s just, I guess it’s hard imagining Whitley hurt like that. I don’t think I could handle it.

Ruby:You definitely teetered in the moment. Knowing that happened though probably gave you anger and grit to fight the entire battle. You were a beast. Scarier than Winter. Anyways, that hollow victory was a real wake up call for the world. They didn’t know about Salem and we never told society in earnest. Cinder and other conspirators were enough to make Remnant work together to boost defense. Relief went to places that needed it and I, became the face of hope. Haven, Argus, Atlas, even people from Vale got to chattering of a particular group of people who always seemed to answer the call for help. Then the towns in between chattered. Yours truly had been carving a name in the history books and was only gain popularity the moment I stepped into Vacou, alone.

Blake:Alone!?

Weiss:What!?

Yang:Where were we!!!!!?

Ruby looked at surprised faces around the table, smiling tenderly. She looked down her dress and pulled out the cross she wore around her neck. Her thumb traced its edges as her mind began wandering down an old path paved with emotions raw to the core.

Ruby:I’ve always felt different. Not just because of my eyes but that there was just...a certain spark that never stopped going off for as long as I remember. There are plenty of people who can’t bare to watch others suffer, but there are fewer people I believe that truly feel the agony of other people’s pain. Beacon, Haven, Atlas, Argus; there was no place I went that I didn’t see the faces of others lamenting, and I didn’t make me want to grieve. Atlas took so much out of all of you and I just felt so....driven to stop that ache. For everyone’s sake, but mine as well. I wanted the world to finally get to the happy ending. Enough trauma had be sowed for a hundred lifetimes, so I went on ahead of everyone. I never doubted you all would follow but I wanted to get ahead of the curve and take on as much of the suffering I could do others wouldn’t. If the world wouldn’t give me a miracle than I’d be it myself for everyone else.

Yang:That’s suicidal! Salem wanted you specifically!

Ruby:It’s not like I went marching up to her door and said “1v1 bitch, I’m here” no, I just chose to move forward quicker than what we were all doing. Believe me, all of you were upset when you caught up, after I had already saved Vacou. *smiles* I really like that place. I told the people it was the next target and all they did was double down on pushing back. I managed to pin down the Summer maiden before the villains and thanks with the city on alert, there wasn’t a shift in the sand that didn’t go unnoticed. I got the jump on Mercury and Emerald, personally paying them back. Can’t say I didn’t enjoy it. It didn’t take long before they realized how screwed they were with them being outed like this and Cinder having the nerve to retreat before hand. Both of them threw in the total, outing the plan against Vacou. A wipeout of a win. Not to mention they told me the location Salem’s little hiding hole.

Weiss:We missed all of that?

Ruby:That’s what happens when I leave in the dead of night and running on adrenaline. Like I said before, people were tired. As much as all of you wanted to hoof it, other’s were relying on you. Atlas almost dropped for gods sake. Eventually when you all caught up it was at a good time. Soloing was rewarding but difficult. Fortunately Sun, Neptune, Ilia, and a few other familiar faces were close by if I needed an extra set of hands. My little stunt earned the anger of everyone for awhile.

WBY:Yeah no shit...the leader left.

Ruby:Yang was the most upset, followed by Uncle Qrow, and you Weiss. I was ready for the blowback. Jaune and Nora saw me though and bursted into tears. Hehe, wasn’t ready for that. Felt terrible and cried back. To prevent that stunt again, my Yang convinced Raven to link me. A couple days of apologizing and rest smoothed things over. It also gave time for just a few close friends and colleagues to get together for an assault on Salem’s castle. A few were apprehensive about it at first but at the end of the day I was going. That attitude was infectious apparently. You guys, actually everybody, they started getting this hunger to end it all. Maybe it was the high of victory? Regardless, it sent me racing to the end with those that I loved most.

Yang:You’re a real “my way or the highway” kind of Ruby. I don’t get how that explains what made you so...elite.

Ruby:I’m not sure what to say. A fight needed to to fought so I fought it. A cry for help was heard so I ran to it. A grimm needed slaying so I slayed it. People needed me to win so I didn’t dare think of losing. Dying was never option, even when it stared me right into my eyes. I had things I wanted to do and people I wanted see for years to come. I guess...I am strong because of the fact I want things my way. A moment I’m not giving it 110% is a moment wasted. After all, a huntress is all I ever wanted to be.

A single dream she wanted since birth. The never ending desire to be the hero in stories told to her many nights ago. That’s all it ever was. That’s all it’s ever been. Even in meadow of beautiful red roses, one would be the rose that captured the eyes of many, that bloomed stronger than the rest. As simple as it was, that had to be the answer here. Weiss, Yang, and Blake were in front of that flower. The Ruby Rose that simply bloomed stronger than the rest. The one that clung to her dream as if letting go meant dying itself. The devotion was inspiring, yet also overwhelming. If this was Ruby they had lead them that day in the Emerald Forest, could they have kept up? Could she be the leader they followed? No, they couldn’t have. Something deep down inside them gave them that answer. No matter how she looked and how much she loved, this Ruby Rose was cut from a cloth they simply weren’t off. The same as others, but oh so different.

Weiss:You’re....kinda a monster, you know that right?

Yang:Seriously, I’m so...floored. It’s intimidating.

Blake:Not to mention humbling. I used to think I gave it all I had. Now I’m not so sure.

Ruby:Oh don’t be like that you three! You’re all living proof there was more than way to go about life, this war! Everything you gave was enough because you’re done with it! Nobody failed. Besides, I...am far from ideal. The assault was challenging. Getting around hoards of grimm and making it to Salem was hell made real. Neo tried taking another shot at me but Yang held her off with help. Everyone pushed the obstacles in front of me out of the way as I went to Salem herself. Cinder had been abandoned by her and stripped of a lot of her powers. Angry and desperate, she tried killing me again as a way to prove worth. I beat her. However, I let her walk away.

Yang:What!? Why would-

Ruby:Naive, I was...naive okay? She was all spent and though I hated her, I just couldn’t. Not when I looked into her eyes and saw that same hunger I had to claw and scream at my dream until it was in my hands die inside her. We both knew from this point on there was absolutely nothing she could do where this ends her way. All she worked for turned burned to ash. So I gave her the choice to not burn up with it. Cinder swallow her pride and then fled. A part of me couldn’t help but rationalize killing her didn’t solve or justify any of my beliefs or desires. It would’ve done it because I hated her like she hated me. That was the dumb logic of a seventeen year old who never quite learned to take things slow.

Blake:....I don’t think it’s dumb. Naive for sure, but maybe that’s good? Even my Ruby, she never wanted to act on hate. She didn’t. Salem lives.

Weiss:Mine sent her soul to be at piece instead of passing a cruel judgment.

Yang:As a person who’s seen what you looked like with nothing but vengeance inside, I can say it doesn’t fit you. Before that day you had a warmth inside you to even foes that were somewhat admirable. You chose to leave Cinder’s fate up to those who had that hate and Salem was undone by her own doing at the very end. That’s what really makes you special Ruby. That’s why you’re called an honest soul. Good will is your nature.

Ruby:....Hmm, you sure know how to butter me up. *scratches head* I guess that part of me is uni-I mean multiversal. Strangely, that makes me feel better, to a degree.

Weiss:Do we even have to ask what happened to Salem at this point? I doubt the story ends with you loosing and having to retreat.

Ruby:Who’s to say it doesn’t? I could’ve been beaten to death before the gods themselves descended down to revive me with awesome power.

Yang:....Did you?

Ruby:Wh-No! Haha, I made her an immortal statue.

Blake:I-It was that easy?

Ruby:Well I wouldn’t call rushing into hell’s castle easy, or Salem. I lit her up at least a dozen times. My head pounded from each use, I was tossed around a bunch, magic is annoying, and not to mention running out of ammo. I left nothing to the imagination in that fight. If it were easy then I wouldn’t be rooting my horn and my age doing it. I was so tired I blacked out afterwards. I woke days later with a sore body and the title of “Remnant’s Savior.” Apparently beating Salem had weakened the grimm everywhere and all of you made sure who was to be thanked for it. That’s the tale of how I saved the world with my friends. Love, trust, elbow grease, and a lot of bullets. Before the final battle, Ozpin had struck a deal with everyone involved. In return for saving the world, he’d cut ties with us.

Yang:Seriously? What brought that about!?

Ruby:Good or not, he lied and was a schemer. Sure I was gonna try to save the world regardless of his interference but there wasn’t a person alive that didn’t to finally take a step towards the future after all this. All of us finally had time chase dreams and help the world the way we wanted to before all of this. Blake begin mending hate, Weiss took back her company, if Yang wasn’t with Blake then she was seeking more answers to Raven on wild adventures.

Yang:You mean Raven still left after all that!?

Ruby:In her defense, both of you made everything fucking awkward when she was around. It’s like you both wanted to talk about something but knew any subject was a land mine so you all you ever did was...stare, like weirdos. Glad that’s in the past. She just lives with dad now and you two now to hold a conversation. I dare not ask for more. I’d be a granny by the time I did.

Yang:Sigh...I don’t know what I expected. Shit it the fan several times and children were born before mom and I found solidarity and understanding. What did you do afterwards? Your goal was already met.

Ruby:Like hell it was! I started busting my butt traveling around the world, visiting every place to help in anyways I could. Ren and Nora tagged along for awhile before going off to make an orphanage in Anima near Ren’s old village. That left Jaune and I to do our hero thing.

Yang:As well as other things....

Ruby:Hey, what can I say? We were young and going up in the world. By the time I was nineteen, I was now a married to my partner and best friend.

Weiss:Uhhhh-

Ruby:He’s my partner on RNJR and you’re my BFF, gosh did I really need to explain that hehe?

Weiss:I just had to make sure. Crazier twists could happen.

Blake:Wow you married young. Not that there’s a problem but I’m surprised. Then again you also dated earlier than my Ruby. Hehe, weapons were on her brain for a long time.

Weiss:No kidding. When I learned about you crushing on my brother I was shocked to find out you liked anybody in general. Especially a person who isn’t a weapon nut in the slightest.

Ruby:*shrugs* All you’re telling me is I’m clearly the most impatient or impulsive Ruby you all know. Don’t know how that happened. Maybe I was dropped as a baby or had one too many coffees growing up?

Weiss:I’m willing to bet it’s both.

Ruby:Ruuuuude. So yeah, that’s...the story of how I saved the world and married Jaune. We even built a home just outside Vacou, overlooking the kingdom and neighboring town in the distance where Maria grew up. Yeah, that’s me....more or less. All the triumphant parts anyways. Anything later on is......

.......

Blake:R...Ruby? You okay?

Ruby:Nope, not really. *clenches cross*

Yang:......You know, I never really got religion, especially after learning the truth. It just seemed completely hollow when you learn of the real gods, ya know? However, I changed my tune a bit after being a parent and then some more when uncle Qrow died. It was never really about the truth behind if those other gods were real-

Ruby:It’s the piece of mind in believing in a better place for loved ones and having people watch over you. It’s truly based on blind faith in every sense but that’s okay as long as it gives peace of mind, to stay strong. Yeah....that’s why I wear this.

Yang:If that’s the “why” then I guess the unavoidable question is what happened?

The reaper leaned back in his chair, letting out a long sigh. Ruby brushed her hair out of her face while her face went pale. Then, Ruby’s eyes, her teammates watched a pair of stunning silver eyes dim, becoming akin to a clouded mirror.

Ruby:Being a huntress was all I wanted. The plan of having a family and settling down never appealed to me much. I feel, I felt like being in the field was where I was meant to be. It’s where I was most myself in a way. So the day I learned that I was pregnant was more than a little upsetting and terrifying, until dad and time itself filled me with the most genuine joy I may have ever experienced. Dustin Arc Rose, my first born son. He opened a door to a world and life I never knew I wanted to be apart of. Then...that door was shut minutes after, when Cinder and Neo stole him right from my arms. I couldn’t do a single thing about it other than blackout. That single act of good will I showed, it did nothing but kill me inside. The same way I did to her.

WB:.....

Yang:Ru-Ruby....your eyes.

Ruby:Hmm? Are they clouded? Funny, I would’ve thought your Ruby would’ve had a similar change. Maybe that’s a world exclusive thing, or a testament to the will you Ruby has to endure. Clouded eyes on a silver eyed warrior means the person has lost the desire or rather the mindset of persevering life. Be it their own life or wanting to end another’s life out of resentment, strife. My entire world fell apart when I woke up and learned nobody was able to retrieve Dustin. I was in pieces, Jaune was broken, nobody was the same. There wasn’t a soul we didn’t know that hadn’t tried to find a lead, but we never did. He was just...gone; and I couldn’t cope at all.

Weiss:I don’t think any mother could. Ruby, I’m so sorry that happened to you.

Ruby:I’m sorry too. I lashed out in anger, and shut people out. My eyes clouded and I dove into my work for a little over a year doing nothing but searching aimlessly as I took and every job back to back. The more time went by meant the more people eventually had to go back to their own, and it drove me up a wall inside. No one could reach me. I didn’t want anybody to. Not even Jaune. I....*teary eyed* I left him alone in house. There was no part of me that could even attempt to understand his pain because I was drowning in mine. I was told he tried his best to catch them at the hospital. I never hated him for not succeeding but I...he... I just, I can’t. I don’t know what I thought. All o knew was I didn’t even want him to touch me. How cruel is that? *hugging herself* I made him drown in despair in the same way I was. I wasn’t home so often that I never realized he eventually left it abandoned to live with dad. Yang and Blake I didn’t even show up to your wedding. Jaune did that much. Hell, Raven attended. Ruby Rose as a person didn’t exist any more. I was only a wandering huntress looking for answers or the challenge that might’ve ended me.

Blake:What changed?

Ruby:Oz, he did what nobody else dared to do. He fought me. I don’t think he thought twice about it. He was prepared to accept all the anger I kept inside until I eventually broke down into tears like I’m trying not to do right now. Thinking about that time is still, extremely difficult. Oz let me lament, encouraging me afterwards to finally except the fact Dustin was gone and that I needed to process it properly. First I went to you Yang, in order to have a my big sis to lean on. Can you guess how that went?

Yang:With me holding you tighter than I ever had before.

Ruby:*smiles gently* I don’t deserve you. You and Blake then came to patch with me where everyone else waited for me and helped me face Jaune. That may have been the hardest thing I’ve done. Grieving or not, the fact that I left him in such a state. I know what that does to people firsthand and yet I left. For the first time in over a year we embraced and finally grieved together. The next two years were spent trying to heal and cope. During my time away the world had fully acknowledged me. I even got a proper nickname, but it all felt hollow. Imagine that, achieving your dream but not caring? If that’s not salt in a wound then I don’t know what is.

Weiss:What’s your title?

Ruby:I am the person people want to see when evil comes to cut their story short. I am a symbol that their tale still has more to tell. Remnant has named me The Storyteller. Curtsey of Maria, who spread the name around. Healing was slow and most nights I felt a pain in my heart, but then everything changed. One moment made me dare to try again to open that shut door in my life. *looks at Yang* I held your son in my arms. Sweet little Kovu.

Blake:*smiles* Kovu? Now I wonder who named him?

Yang:*red* Huh...how about that? Hehehe, wish I could meet him. I know he isn’t technically mine but I can’t help but feel all warm now. Also I can’t believe I named him that!

Weiss:I can. Veronica’s middle name is Nala.

Yang:Okay, maybe not marrying Blake was a win? Clearly I can’t be trusted to not name my children after other cats.

Blake:The wrong kind of cat too. I’m a panther faunus, not a lion. Even if they’re blonde that’s still false advertising of what they are.

Ruby:Well Yang was the one giving birth so you lost a majority of the option to complain.

Blake:That is fair.

Weiss:You gave birth to Vee, so I think that solves who picked her first name.

Ruby rested her head in her propped up hands that rested on the table. She felt exhausted reliving that chapter of her life mentally. Still she managed to smile, then smile bigger. Her eyes unclouded and a warm feeling filling her again. What Ruby said earlier about what made her different may have reign true, but her friends could since that there was now more to it. Ruby had spiraled into an unimaginable tragedy, yet was able to bounce back thanks to loved ones. To smile as she does, it was truly a strong sight to see. Even if she wasn’t fully aware of that.

Ruby:Carmine Arc Rose, my second born and the first child to call me mommy. Followed many years later by itty bitty Garnet. He’s my little man, five years old while is big sis is seventeen now.

Yang:Damn! That’s a gap. Oh, also congratulations. Almost forgot that part. I’m glad you got to be the super awesome mom that-

Ruby:I am easily C-teir.

Yang:Oh come on! What!?

Ruby:Listen, I know I got on you all for calling yourselves bad parents, but I will hear no debate about me understand!? I flop a lot of times.

Weiss:That doesn’t make you a C-teir. That makes you a new mom, silly.

Ruby:*grumbling* I agree to disagree but thank you. It’s just a lot okay. Too much to dive into honestly.

Blake:Summarize. Give us an abbreviated version.

Ruby:Ummm so Carmine is real special kid. The absolute love I have for her is unbreakable but gods damnit if she isn’t the most... “me” I could be! In a way similar yet different from myself, Carmine has always had this sense of urgency in her and a love for the world around her. She recognizes that it’s a fragile piece we have and just how hard I’ve worked with everyone to make it. I could tell that from her when she was five. I’d sound crazy, but the fact she used her eyes at the age proves I’m not.

Yang:She has silver eyes!? Why didn’t you bring that up?

Ruby:I thought that was obvious. All of my kids were born with then. Unlike her baby brother though, Carmine was a weird little kid. She didn’t socialize well. Still doesn’t, she’s kinda comes off rude and cold because of her bluntness. She doesn’t really express all her feelings or understand others fully. One might call her a little cold but the passion she had to protect life itself is a testament to how much she cares. Carmine is also a genius fighter. To put in perspective, people use the same nickname for her that they used for Pyrrha.

WBY:Oh....

Ruby:Yeah! It’s not hyperbolic to say ever since Carmine is far beyond any skill I was at her age since she turned thirteen. You called me a monster earlier but no, I merely gave birth to a beast. I mean she could pass the huntsman exam at fifteen if I didn’t make her wait. I can’t call her arrogant, she talks with confidence because she has that right by all means. Still, besides her face, that’s where the similarities start separating; besides terrible grades in general stuff. We’ve never been in step completely. To put simply in her own words, “What I am is a hero, while she is a huntress.” That good will and mercy I try to give everyone isn’t how she rolls. It drives a real wedge that has resulted in us not going on missions together.

Blake:Is she...killing?

Ruby:She has before, and it had valid reasons entirely, but I also know for a fact she is more than capable of bringing down people without taking that step. Not all cases are that intense thank goodness. Her overall aggressiveness is the root of the problem. You don’t have to put you back into it when handling thugs. They aren’t Hazel.

Yang:Ooo okay, yeah I’m seeing what you mean now. It’s like that one comic you always read!

Ruby:Sigh...yeah she channels a bit of Batman energy and I need her to not do that all the time. I suppose being an honest soul isn’t particularly hereditary. It always feels like we aren’t enjoying each other’s company these days. I can’t blame her though. So....you know how all of you have had one serious problem that has both destabilized yourself as well as the kids and their relationship to you? *clouded eyes*

Weiss:Wait...you loosing a child wasn’t that?

Ruby:Oh it was. It just so happened that it never ended. It grew day by day. Night by night. Jaune and I were cautious with Carmine. Going as far to give her contacts and giving birth to her off the record and not at a hospital. Just in case Cinder came back. Well, Cinder and Neo came back, with my Dustin.

Nobody said anything. What do you even say to that!? All they did was let out a stifled breath and tried to gauge Ruby’s look of guilt.

Ruby:Yet again we had gotten too comfortable. It happened when Carmine was thirteen. I don’t think Garnet was even one yet. That’s when the cruelest realization hit me. My son had been alive and hearing about how his so called mother being a person who saves everyone, yet she never came for him. She had moved on, letting his eyes become clouded with such seething hate for the world she did save; the children she had after. It’s been four years since the day he attacked Carmine and helped grimm try to invade Vacou. To this day it’s been a life of staying on gaurd, searching for them as they popped up countless places to tear Remna- to tear me down and I can’t decide what part hurts the most. The amount of anger that prevents me from killing Cinder in a blink of an eye, or looking at my daughter who has told me herself that she is going to kill her older brother because I’m too weak to do so. That I’m in no way as good as the world believes me to be. *puts hood up* Like I said, C-teir mom, at best.

Blake:That’s- you can’t- there’s no way for you to reach him? Maybe if you-

Ruby:He looks at me the same way Neo and Cinder do, Blake. They raised him to hate me. Besides, he hurt Carmine. She’s just not gonna let that slide and frankly I shouldn’t either. Carmine acts tough and for the most part is, but gets terrified like everyone else. In many ways she’s still just a young girl that I wish had never chosen to become a huntress. If I had it my way she’d just be a normal girl with normal knees; but her mother’s weakness and inexperience wrapped her up in yet another war. It’s ironic. I barely remember mom and yet I ended up putting my family in very similar situation as if she lead instruction. Happy endings, I’m not sure if I get-

Yang:You’re better than mom....

Ruby:......

Yang:Yeah I said. Look I love Summer Rose but at the end of the day she wasn’t around, not that she didn’t want to be, but it’s the truth. Several years of pleasant childhood memories and a lifetime of grief is what she left me, and all you got were tales you should’ve experienced first hand. Ruby you have spent seventeen years loving your daughter unconditionally and being there for her no matter if it’s for better or worse. Yeah you might not being doing it perfectly and I have no idea how to even fathom your predicament, but at least you are there trying. Take it from me, that’s all a daughter ever wants from their mother. It’s also what makes a pretty kick ass dad. *smiles* Chin up, hero. Your story isn’t over yet after all.

Silence filled the air and Ruby’s throat ran dry. Ruby pulled out her scroll to go to her pictures and displayed one of her favorite photos for everyone to see. It was Carmine’s fifteenth birthday. Ruby didn’t lie about the resemblance. the girl had short blonde hair that stopped halfway down her neck in the back and was longer in the front, reaching shoulders. Like her mother, the tips of her hair transitioned to red. The beautiful young woman tried to her hide her smile but her gleeful silver eyes were practically twinkling with joy as Ruby hugged her tightly from behind and a tall, more solid version of Jaune was smushing one of Carmine’s cheeks with an overly dramatic kiss to it. A tiny child no older than three at most was in his big sister’s arms. Garnet had his mother’s hair and eyes but something about the chubby face definitely showed Jaune’s features. The child had red frosting on his face and was reaching eagerly for more cake somewhere out of frame.

Yang noticed the girl took page from her father and wore some regular cargo shorts, but clearly didn’t lack flair by wearing a red crop top that showed off a fresh tattoo of the Arc crest on her toroso. Knowing her sister, that tattoo was most likely practical. The family looked happy, proud; and the mother of it currently sat across the table crying with her head face down in her hands cwhile Weiss and Blake hugged her from each side. Roses may have thorns, anyone who knew roses knew a simple truth. They’re still fragile flowers.

Yang:(Carmine Arc Rose. For you and your mother’s sake, I hope things go well)

xxxx

Though Carmine seemed cold by nature, people were quick learn the opposite. The most recent learner of this was a scared little girl that held on for dear life. It was nighttime, nothing but the sound of pouring rain and the distant glow of red and the warmth of Carmine holding the girl against her body while she sprinted through a mud ridden forest. The little payed no attention to the pain in her side, but the glow of roses, eyes, and flames through her tear filled eyes.

Beowulves chased frantically but then severed immediately by something the girl couldn’t understand, but it looked like the person carrying her. The dead beasts brought no comfort. Not when more followed close behind.

Girl:I-I’m sc...scared!

Carmine:Don’t look at them sweetie, it’ll be fine. Just keep being a brave little girl.

Girl:M...Mommy was back there.

Carmine:.....I know, she’ll be just fine. Your village, there are plenty of people there that will be just fine! Huff..... You got a name?

Mary:Mary.....

Carmine:Oh that’s a beautiful name, Mary. You know I was almost a Mary? Yeah my grandma was a really amazing person and I almost got named something similar to her. Mary is a very strong name!

Mary:You’re a liar! I’m sad, not strong. I want my mommy! Everything his dark and hurts and I want her!

The girl began painfully crying as Carmine followed her trail of roses to avoid getting lost. Things were getting worse. The storm raged and she could feel this girl burning in her arms. Not to mention the unsettling warmth the mixed with the cold rain against her body and dripped to puddles below. Any grimm near by could only be dealt with by many copies of her nearby, but that would only go so far when fear was out full force. Carmine’s boots felt like cement, but she still ran.

Carmine:Mary, you know what do when I miss my mommy? I sing! Yeah, my mom sings the best lullabies that made me feel super strong when I was little! It’s a magic song that makes everyone strong. How about I sing it you and they can sing it your mommy later okay!? But you have to close your eyes to really focus on the words!

Mary:*sniffling* Okay....

Baby deathstalkers swarmed the path made ahead as small Nevermores dove at her. Out of options, Carmine broke from the path, trying to rely on memory to go towards the safe zone while also singing lyrics to her favorite song.

Dream of anything; I'll make it all come true.

Everything you need is all I'll have for you~

Carmine never wavered. No matter how badly her lungs her or nearly slipped, she kept singing all the way to her destination where several other clones were seen racing towards with more civilians to injured or young to go themselves. An orphanage where Nora and Ren stood outside rushing people in while Jaune was keeping the grimm at bay. The sight brought a little ease.

Don't worry, I've got you; nothing will ever harm you.

I'm close by, I'll stay here; through all things, I will be near~

Carmine finally reached Nora and passed off the girl who’s grip weakened overtime. A few lyrics in and Carmine knew she was singing mainly for herself.

Carmine:Get her medical attention! I’m gonna go and find more! There’s still-

Jaune:Wait, it’s too dangerous!

Carmine:I know! That’s why I have to go! That fire is spreading and there’s stragglers pinned down! Dad.....I’m pinned down!

Jaune tensed up and looked at Carmine. No scraps on her and her clothes only soiled by others. It didn’t take long to realize. The man resisted the urge to run out to the ruined town and stood firmly.

Jaune:Carmine...end it. We’ll worry about the consequences later.

Carmine:....Okay.

Across the woods amongst the flames the real Carmine stood bleeding and bruised in front of two Beringel that charged over the vanishing corpses of their fallen with more grimm, her sword stabbed into the ground supporting her weight. Behind all living people that remained finally managed to flee. All except for a woman trapped by house debris. The woman watched this young huntsman stand proudly again. She wasn’t sure what happened next. All she heard was one sentence.

“Close your eyes...” before everything went white. Next thing she knew, Carmine was lifting debris off her as rain and wind washed away any evidence. A relief she didn’t care about in the slightest. She neither had the strength, or the time too. Much like Carmine, who began to pant and teeter. It was clear to the woman that whatever just happened didn’t come without cost as she watched the girl fall to her knees. Though she tried moving, Carmine was spent.

Carmine:Don’t worry...we’re safe....let’s-

Woman:Go...

Carmine:Huh?

Woman:I...my legs. Everything...I can’t move. Just go. I d-don’t think I’d las-

Carmine:Don’t talk like that! The hard parts over! I can-

Woman:Barely walk. *smiles* It’s okay. I don’t blame you. You fought hard.

Carmine:.....I...I’m sorry. *teary eyed*

Woman:Say, I know that face anywhere. Your Lady Rose’s kid. Funny, I thought your eyes were red? My daughter, Mary, she loves your mother. Makes me kinda jealous hehe, but hey I love her too. *crying* Do you know if Mary made it? She was wearing-

Carmine:A black dress, pink ribbons in her hair...

Woman:Yes! Is she safe? I saw you- one of you carry her off.

Carmine:...She’s just fine.

Woman:Good. That’s all....that.....

The woman never finished her sentence. Carmine’s body fell limp on the ground, facing the rain. Even with the cold downpour she could feel the warmth of her own tears, containing her emotions best she could as she looked through her clones eyes to watch Nora take Mary away from the survivors and out of sight to not stir further panic.

Carmine wasn’t sure how long she layed there, but it was long enough for Jaune to find her. The man didn’t say a word. The town was in shambles. Grimm were still fading and his daughter looked tired, but not in serious condition. Unlike the those who didn’t make it. Jaune put Carmine in his arms, carrying her away to safety.

Carmine:......Does mom ever save them all?

Jaune:No, but that never stops her from trying; or mourning.

She clenched her father’s shirt and let herself be fragile, to be a Rose.

Carmine:Next time. Mom and I, we’ll both get it right next time. A happy ending for all!

Jaune:Yeah, I know you will. Together....

[myhauntedsalem]

13 True Horror Stories from the Psychiatric Ward that Will Give You the Creeps

Death, illness and tragedy have long been part of the history of insane asylums, and for as long as they have existed, so too have the scary stories associated with them. From haunted hospitals to sadistic doctors and nurses, psychiatric wards have been the inspiration for many of our favorite horror movies and books. Yet, the true stories told by the psych ward workers below far surpass any horrors that we might have seen at the cinema or read in a book.

Without further ado, here are thirteen of some of the creepiest psych ward stories on the internet that have been shared by health care professionals.

1. Holding her own Eyes

My mom told me this story from her time at a neuropsychiatric ward while she was in grad school. She was making her routine room checks and happened upon the most horrific scene I’ve ever heard.

This was during the night shift, and generally, all the patients’ bedroom doors should be closed. So my mom turned a corner and noticed an open door. She saw a staff member’s legs on the floor, halfway out the doorway.

When she looked into the room, she saw the patient, a woman with a severe postpartum psychiatric disorder, who had just gouged both of her own eyes out with her bare hands. She was sitting cross-legged on the floor, holding her eyes in her hands.

The first staff member to witness the scene, who was now lying face down on the floor, had a heart attack when he first witnessed the woman while he was making his rounds.

My mom screamed for help and frantically tried to perform CPR on the staff member. All the while, the woman just sat rather calmly, holding her own eyes.

2. The Saw

I work as a psychotherapist in a hospital system. My definition of creepy is probably quite a bit different from other medical professionals.

The one that got to me the most was a patient who came to us after attempting suicide by sawing both his arms off at the forearm with a table saw. His arms were reattached, fairly successfully too, with only limited impairments in mobility. All I could think was how bad it would have to be to live in his head that sawing his arms off seemed better than that.

He has since completed suicide.

3. Jane?

We had a young lady in our custody with quite a few issues. We’ll call her Jane. Jane’s first night at our facility staff doing a bed check found Jane in a puddle of blood. Turns out Jane had been slicing the skin around her shin with her finger nails and was pulling her skin up her leg, essentially de-gloving her calf.

Jane also had a ritual she performed every night before bed. While in her room she would run between walls in her room touching them in a crucifix pattern. After doing this for a few hours she would sit on her bed and go to sleep. This particular night Jane was frantic in her pace, practically running between walls. Our night staff observed the entire interaction and reported Jane screaming late into the night. When the staff went to check on Jane she reported Jane standing in the doorway smiling. The staff asked what was wrong and Jane replied, “what makes you think you are speaking to Jane?”

4. The Vampire

My mom worked in mental institutions in her younger years (and actually worked at a large, well-known asylum before it was shut down.)

There was one woman there that thought she was a vampire of sorts. She was only allowed out one hour a day, and they had to use safety precautions. She had already attacked and killed at least one hospital worker before these were enacted.

When my Mom asked about her, it was revealed that she had killed at least two of her children, wounded another as well as her husband because she had some sort of physical condition called Porphyria, which apparently made her crave blood.

By the time that they discovered there was something physically wrong with her, she already had lost her mind from guilt and grief.

5. The Spitter

I’m not a psychologist but my friend is. She told me about a patient of hers who was HIV positive and a paranoid schizophrenic. He thought that the nurses who worked at the hospital he was in were trying to kill him, so he would frequently bite his tongue, and spit HIV positive blood into their faces/mouths. When they had to come into contact with him, they were required to wear full masks and gloves.

6. The Only One

I once knew a woman who had spent part of her residency at a psychiatric hospital for people with severe mental conditions. Apparently, the grounds had a lovely, enclosed greenhouse. One day, one of their schizophrenic patients was sitting on a bench, smoking a cigarette, as a heron frantically flew around. It had found its way in and, not being able to escape, it was smashing into the large panes of glass. The man just sat there watching.

Finally, my counselor asked him if the bird was bothering him and he kind of sighed and said, “Thank god, I thought I was the only one seeing that.”

7. Family Photographs

My sister is the director of a psychiatric hospital. There was recently a lady there who would cut her arms, legs and torso open and place photographs of her family under her skin.

8. Under the Bed

Once, a fellow female patient told me she found writings under her bed. They were just old, small wooden bed frames with hard mattresses that would make all kinds of noises when you rolled over, but I still wondered what exactly she was doing lying under her bed to find these writings.

When she first told me, I thought it was a joke. But sure enough, one day during group we managed to sneak away, and she showed me. Indeed, there were stories written under her bed. After that, we had everyone check under their own beds, and there was more writing under every single bed.

They were stories of patients who had stayed here before, or ways they were planning on killing themselves, or who the good and bad nurses were. It creeped me out.

9. Time of Death

Well, my mother was a nurse that specialized in geriatrics, and she worked for several hospice hospitals for many years. She often described situations at her work with several of the patients. She would say that each person tends to have a very similar “checklist” that they follow right before death. This checklist often ended in a very similar way.

They would get caught talking to someone that wasn’t there. When asked who they (otherwise lucid people) were talking to, they would describe an individual who was already dead. When asked what they were talking about, they would say that their relative wanted to know if they were ready to move on. A pretty common response would be, “Yeah, he/she said that she will take me tomorrow at 3:00.” Well, it would often happen that they would die at the exact time their relatives quoted.

10. The Test Subject

I had an hour-long conversion with a delusional guy who was confined to a mental health facility, and who was probably smarter than I am. Lots of these folks believe that somebody – often the CIA – is either beaming thoughts into their heads, or has implanted a microchip in their brains for this purpose. This guy was offering a very thoughtful argument as to why such claims should not be so quickly dismissed.

“It’s precisely because such delusions are so common that mental patients make the best test subjects,” he said. There he was, confined and protected, constantly observed, his health and behavior documented, and there is zero chance that anyone would ever take his concerns seriously. How else would you test and improve such technology? Does the government not have a strong motivation and a plausible ability to create such a device?

“You can see I’m not irrational,” the man said. “I’m just straight-up telling you that they are doing this to me. I know just how unbelievable it sounds, and yet, here I am.”

11. The Boy who Loved Knives

As a tech in psych years ago, there was a 7-year-old kid sent to the floor because the mom didn’t know what to do with him. Sadly, common thing to happen, even if the kids don’t have psych issues. Anyway, the mom was shaking and crying, and they had to take the kid into another room. She was genuinely afraid of her own son. She had suspected something was wrong when she kept finding mutilated animals in the backyard, but never heard or saw coyotes or anything around. The neighbors smaller pets started disappearing. The boy had an obsession with knives, hiding them around the house. Denying anything when the mom confronted him. Then when the two started getting into arguments, he would get really violent and hit her, push her down and kick her, threaten to kill her. On multiple occasions she woke up in the middle of the night with him standing beside her bed, staring her in the face. She put extra locks on her bedroom door to feel safe while she slept. The last straw was when she lifted up his mattress and found 50+ knives of all shapes and sizes under there. So she brought him to us.

I remember talking to him, treating him like he was just any other kid that came through. He seemed remarkably normal, until you spoke directly to him. He had this way of looking right through you, or maybe like he didn’t see you at all while you were speaking.

He would respond like a robot, like he was just saying words because that’s what we wanted to hear. And he would always put on this creepy, dead-looking smile. Like all mouth and no eye involvement in the smile. Especially when he would get away with something, like taking another kid’s markers and they couldn’t figure it out. Still gives me chills laying here thinking about him.

I believe I met a 7-year-old psychopath.

12. The New Mom

I was a pharmacy technician at a hospital with a psych ward for some time. We would have to go around with a cart and dispense the patients’ medications, and being a 5’2″ girl, a security guard or male nurse would accompany me, just as a precaution. I never had any real issues other than the occasional death grip onto my arm or manic outbursts, but there was one boy who was entirely different.

His chart said he was nine and he had pale skin, dark hair, and huge bright, green eyes. He always greeted me in the most polite way, asked how I was doing, and always found something different to compliment me on every time. He was extremely well-spoken and mature for his age, so I began looking forward to seeing him, as normal small talk is definitely cherished in that setting. If he saw me outside of his room in the halls, he made sure to say hello and always called me “Miss Jones” or “ma’am.”

One day, a couple of our female nurses saw me pause to chat with him in the hallway, and waved me over to ask if I was out of my mind. Apparently, when he was in kindergarten, he grew an intense attachment to his young female teacher.

This escalated to the point of him calling her “Mom” and leaving notes for her about how he wished he were her son. He had a normal home-life with both parents, and the teacher tried to explain to him that she couldn’t be his mom because that would hurt his real mother’s feelings, and that she already had that job covered.

So, he went home and, killed his own mother in her sleep by cutting her throat, so his teacher could be his mom. The female staff had a general rule of not interacting with him excessively to prevent any kind of attachment from forming.

13. Bugs

Nothing I can say can possibly describe the year I worked in Psychiatric Intensive Care. Creepy isn’t the thing that comes to mind when I think back on it…more heartbreaking and horrifying. But creepiness was a part of it. Especially evening and night shifts, naturally.

There is always something disturbing about watching someone while they hallucinate. You can tell it is 100% real to them, and something about that makes you believe it, on some level. A lot of stories end with, “and of course, I had to look over my shoulder to make sure”. You see the emotions it brings out.

There was a woman that came in and sat down across the table from me for her admission interview. She had bandages all over her arms and scotch tape over her mouth and ears. She looked very uncomfortable and wouldn’t really sit still. When the nurse would ask her a question, she would peel the corner of the tape back and answer, then stick the tape back on really fast.

We eventually found out that she saw and felt bugs crawling all over her, and they were trying to get inside her body. The tape was to keep the bugs out. The bandages were because some bugs got in and she had to dig them out. She couldn’t sit still because she felt the bugs all over her even while we sat and talked. The worst part was, she had some idea that it was her mind playing tricks on her. Can you imagine going through your life, feeling like someone is continuously dumping buckets of cockroaches on your head, feeling like they’re all over you and getting inside of you to the point that you’re digging chunks out of your flesh in a panic, all while knowing intellectually that none of it is real?

[rubysunnday]

Dear Mother,

A/N: Inspired by the post about what Mrs Shelby’s name is. It’s also inspired by my first ever fic on here, The Letters, since it’s almost been a year since I posted it. 

Her name had become a taboo. No one dared to mention the same of Mrs Shelby - the woman who’d thrown herself into the Cut because she went out of her mind. It was always “Mrs Shelby” or “the Shelby’s mother”. 

Her name had died with her. She didn’t even have her name on the grave. Just mother. 

Y/N Shelby didn’t even know her mother’s name. It was nowhere to be seen within the walls of the house and there was no record of it in any photo album or bundle of letters. 

She was a ghost - a nameless whisper on the wind. 

Y/N never asked about her mother’s name. Her brothers had told her she’d died from an illness - slowly wasted away before their eyes until she was no more. It was the truth, in a way. Her mind had give up and her body had followed not long after. 

She’d thrown herself into the Cut and had sunk to the bottom - like Ophelia when her lover had murdered her father. Left behind was an already broken and bruised family who’s eldest members were about to go to war. 

Y/N didn’t remember her mother. She didn’t remember the screaming, the crying, Tommy trying to shield her, Finn and Ada from their mother as she went out of her mind. 

Committing suicide was no way to go. A mother committing suicide was another thing entirely. How could she be so selfish and abandon her children? 

That was were the fear and suspicion of the Shelby’s had begun. All because of their mother. And they used it to their advantage, quickly becoming the most feared and respected family in Birmingham.

But no child should have had to grow up hearing whispered secrets about their mother and how it wouldn’t be long before the children followed her into the cold, icy depths of the Cut.

Y/N Shelby had no mother. Polly tried her best but she was never a maternal person - the loss of her children had damaged her beyond repair - and Y/N missed the nurturing nature mother’s apparently had. 

She didn’t remember her mother. There were pictures of her in Tommy’s house - of her with John, Arthur, Tommy and Ada. She looked beautiful - like a Hollywood movie superstar. She was picture perfect, smiling at the camera with a loving hand on John’s shoulder and her arm around Arthur’s waist. 

It was a snapshot of a forgotten time - before the demons invaded her mind and ripped her soul from her mind. And it wasn’t a true snapshot, not really. She’d suffered with the demons for years before that image, but it only got worse.

But Y/N took that image of her mother - looking perfect and like a porcelain doll. And she wrote her a letter. She introduced herself, told her what she looked liked and what her favourite things were and put it in her desk draw.

For the next twelve months, Y/N wrote a letter to her mother every day. She poured her heart and soul out to this invisible woman who’s name no longer existed and who’s image was frozen in a dusty photo on her brother’s desk.

8th April, 1923

Dear Mother,

I turned nineteen today, Nothing spectacular happened - I had a nice meal out with Ada and went riding with John and Arthur. Tommy vanished off to London - again - and I didn’t see him all day. Not quite sure what I’ve done to piss him off but, alas. 

Polly gave me your necklace today The string of pearls you bought with the first bit of money Arthur made. I’m wearing them, and your engagement ring, as I write this. I look like a proper lady with my new dress on...

It’s been sixteen years since I last saw you. I’m doing alright without you but it’s hard. I see Ada with Karl and Polly with Michael and my heart aches for that. But i know I can never have it and will never have it. 

I hope you’re alright, wherever you are, mother.

All my love,

Your ever loving daughter, Y/N x

As the days and the weeks went by, the bundle of letters got bigger and more tattered. She told no one about her little ritual - she knew they wouldn’t approve. Her family never dared mention their mother for fear of bringing about a curse.

Y/N was never that superstitious. No curses existed - it was just poor luck and death threats. 

1st August, 1923

Dear Mother,

I feel like I’ve almost caught you up on the past sixteen years. The Great War, Tommy’s wedding, both of John’s weddings and his gaggle of small humans he calls children. There’s almost nothing else to say to you.

Not that you’re actually here, that is. I doubt you were ever really here.

I wrote my brothers letter when they were in France. That was different, though, because they wrote back and sent me little things. I still have the violet John sent me from the Somme. 

I have all your things. No one else wanted them - they say they’re cursed or some shit like that. I was never that superstitious, it’s just life attempting to play God. No one has a say on who gets to be a survivor and who gets to be a martyr. 

I like to think of you as Ophelia. She sang to herself as she drowned, oblivious to her death. I hope you were like that, finally at peace with yourself as you floated down the Cut with the fallen flowers and leaves around you like a halo. 

There’s me trying to romanticise your death. No one even mentions you by name so forgive me for trying to make you seem more alive than apparently you are.

Well, you’re not alive are you. You’re dead. 

You have a grave. It’s up on the hill by the old tree that was used for hangings back in the day. Near Tom’s house. It’s an alright spot, I suppose. Nothing special. No one ever visits you, however. Your name isn’t even on the pebble someone put there as a marker.

We couldn’t afford a headstone. We can now but Tommy would murder me if he knew I did that. He hates talking about you.

No one ever tells me about you. All I have are a few photos that are practically falling apart and your clothes and jewellery. 

Anyway, I need to go. Family meeting and all that shit.

Your ever loving daughter,

Y/N x

By the time Christmas came, Y/N’s desk drawer was full of letters to her non-existent mother. Each letter was bundled together by month with colour coordinated ribbons for each month. February was purple, September orange and so on. 

She’d told her mother everything she’d ever wanted to. Her first kiss, her first love, her first break up, the time she got shot, the numerous times she almost died. 

She had no need to tell her anything anymore. Her mother felt so much more real to her now than she ever had before. 

She made her decision on Christmas Day evening. Everyone else was inside Arrow House watching the children open their last few presents and drink the remaining of the wine and whiskey. 

Y/N slipped outside, grabbed her horse, and rode up to the hill were the old hanging tree had once been. Her mother’s grave sat to the left of the tree - a tiny mound of earth with a pebble as its only marker. Y/N dismounted from her horse and approached the grave, clenching the letters tightly.

Twelve bundles. Almost 365 letters. 

Y/N found some twigs and branches and made a small fire at the foot of the grave. A moment later it roared into life and crackled away, casting an orange glow over her face.

She spread Tommy’s coat out on the ground and sat down, cross-legged, in front of the fire, clutching the letters. For once, she wasn’t wearing a dress belonging to her mother. Instead it was a mismatch of her brother’s old trousers, shirts and waistcoats. 

She started with the first of January. 

Y/N untied the ribbon and pulled out the first letter, the date neatly scrawled on the top left of the envelope. She read it through once, flipped it over to look at the address and then put it on the fire.

The paper curled as it burnt away, the writing fading into nothing but ash and sparks. 

The second of January followed suit before the first of January had even finished burning. 

Each letter curled and burned in the fire, the words and the sentiments becoming nothing more than ash. 

Fifteenth of February quickly followed the fourteenth. 

Twenty-eighth of April was followed by the twenty-ninth. 

Each and every letter was add to the fire until she was only left with one. 

25th December, 1923

Dear Mother,

I’ve told you everything. 

There’s nothing left to say, now. I’ve spilled my darkest secrets and untold stories to you. 

I’ve moved on, now. I still wish I had you around but I’m coping with it. I wish you were more than just words and pictures and jewellery. But nothing is fair. 

I’ve burnt all the letters and I hope the words reach you. I hope their spirit and their meaning reach you and reassure you that your daughter is doing fine. 

You used to be mine but now you belong to the world.

I only wish I’d learnt your name.

All my love

Your ever grateful and loving daughter,

Y/N Miriam Shelby

[raith-way]

Ryan and Bruce

Cute 20 & Spooky 18

Thank you for the ask/prompt! I love these two, which is why I wrote for them first, and I actually managed to write something non-angsty for them!

Ryan & Bruce [otp: mutually assured destruction]

Warm Welcome [cute #20: first frost of the year]

Ryan woke up to two very unexpected surprises, and she added in the unexpected despite the obvious definition of the word surprise because of how caught off guard she was. The sweater she had fallen asleep in did nothing to ward off the chill as she emerged from unconsciousness, and she hissed as cold air hit her bare legs after swinging her blanket off of her. It’d been cold the night before, but not so cold that she’d felt the need to find a pair of pants to sleep in or even pull on a pair of socks. Now she hopped from foot to foot as she crossed the wooden floors of her bedroom, and her breath showed in a pale cloud in front of her face as she moved to the single window in her bedroom. Ice had crept across the glass while she slept, and she pressed her fingers against the edge of forming frost. She was shivering, acutely aware of the temperature since all she was wearing was the sweater and a pair of panties, but she couldn’t stop looking outside long enough to go find some more clothes.

In Banshee City, there was never any real snow. Occasional ice, yes, but not until much closer to Christmastime. She hadn’t been expecting it to get this cold, this fast. Down below, people were fully bundled up and moving quickly to get to their destinations. (The people here always moved quickly, as a safety precaution, but it seemed like the cold gave them some extra motivation to get to where they were going.) Outside, ice had formed along everything. The rough bricks of the buildings, the cracked sidewalks, and around the perimeter of her small window. Her breath puffed out against the glass, fogging it up, and she tugged her sweater sleeve down over her hand to wipe the glass. Small little circles until she could see the outside world again.

“You know.” She tensed at the sound of the voice and then instantly relaxed as she recognized it, and she turned to greet her second surprise of the morning as he continued talking. “My house keeps the internal temperature regulated. If you were there, you wouldn’t be shivering right now.”

“Bruce!” She saw his cheek twitch, under the thick scruff of a beard that he was apparently growing, just before she threw herself at him. She hadn’t been expecting him back for at least another week, possibly longer, but he was here. Arms caught her easily, swept her up into the air and pulled her in, and she locked her legs around the soft material of a padded jacket that still had cold ice starting to drip from the back of it.

“You miss me?” he asked as her arms wound around his neck. Bruce was freezing, especially against the bare parts of her skin, but she didn’t care. He’d been gone for almost a month, and she had missed him. Missed him enough to admit to it, just not to his face. So she ducked down to nuzzle under his jaw, felt the scrape of his beard against her cheek, and reached up to bury her cold fingers in his thick hair.

“I might have missed you, a little,” she whispered. He must have been wearing gloves at some point, because his hands were warm as they swept up her thighs to rest easily on her hips under her sweater. Technically, under his sweater that she had taken for herself.

“You could have missed me from the lakehouse.” His hands were warm against her back, pulling her tighter against him, and she shifted to run her cold nose against his cheek.

“And miss seeing you actually show up here? Not a chance,” she laughed. Bruce hated her apartment, hated that she had chosen to live in Gotham’s crime-filled East End, but she felt more at home here. At least, she did when Bruce was gone. The lakehouse didn’t feel like home without Bruce there.

“Will you come back with me now?” Ryan pulled back to look at him properly, and there was still a hint of a smile over his expression. Softening the line of his mouth and putting a little extra warmth in his eyes. Her hands moved to the front of his face, fingers scratching through the beard that was new and different against her skin, and she leaned forward to feel that newness against her lips.

“Only if you promise to keep this for a little bit longer,” she bargained. She tightened her thighs around him, just enough for him to feel the pressure, and felt one hand pressing solidly against the center of her back.

“Only if you promise to keep this on,” he added and used his other hand to pull on the bottom hem of the sweater she’d taken from his closet. She thought that over, the feeling of warm cotton and soft scruff against her skin, and pulled back with a smile.

“Deal.”

Here Lies [spooky #18: an ancient mausoleum, stone door crumbling]

The grass was so soft under her feet, a cushion for every step forward, but where were her shoes? Ryan never walked around outside barefoot, just in case something happened and she needed to take off running. She continued forward, and she looked up. The sky was dark, moon hanging full and swollen in the otherwise dark night, but she couldn’t see any stars. It should have been cold, but the breeze that lifted her hair from her neck was soothing. A balm against her aggravated skin, and her eyes closed as she kept moving forward. She didn’t need to have her eyes open to know where she was going. She let herself enjoy the moment. The tickle of grass against the bare bottoms of her feet, warm dew brushing against her ankles, and that rolling breeze under the starless night.

“This isn’t right,” she thought as the grass changed. The softness twisted, thickened and pushed, and her eyes stayed closed as she winced. Dead hardened grass cut against her skin, ripped at the bottoms of her feet and pulled above her ankles, but she couldn’t stop. Couldn’t go back. Had to keep pushing forward. The breeze was hot now, licking against the back of her neck like some great beast following at her heels.

Ryan opened her eyes as everything went perfectly still, perfectly quiet, and there was a door in front of her. Tall and imposing, thick stone, a darker gray even in the moonlight. One hand reached out, fingertips brushed against the center of the door, and she watched as it started to break. First, a single crack down the middle. Loud as thunder. She reached out with both hands, dug her fingers into the stone, and started to pull. Stone crumbled under her hands and landed at her feet, a fine dust to soothe the places where she was still bleeding, and she couldn’t stop. Kept pulling and tearing at the door, and when did she start screaming? Her throat burned as she screamed up at the sky, at the moon that loomed above her and slowly started to bleed red, and the stone door was crumbled into nothingness. Not even dust was left on her fingertips, and she locked her teeth together as she continued forward.

The inside of the mausoleum was cold, freezing. Her bare feet burned against the cold floor as she walked inside, and the air burrowed under her clothes to slip under her skin. This was an ancient place, colder than the deepest depths of hell, and she wanted to run. Wanted to be back in Bruce’s warm bed, with his solid arms around her and grounding her, but she couldn’t stop. She kept walking forward, always forward, and her bottom lip quivered as she looked to her right. The walls were stone, just as solid as the door had been, with names carved deep into them.

Emil Dietrich.

Her step-father always had grease on his hands, from the mechanic’s shop, and he had laughed with his entire body.

Maria Dietrich.

Her mother had a soft voice, perfect for singing lullabies and telling bedtime stories, and she had smelled like lemon and vanilla.

Harrison Dietrich.

The oldest of her younger brothers, sweet baby Harry, wanted to be an engineer. Wanted to build and create and make the world beautiful.

Bernard Dietrich.

Her littlest brother that was destined to tower over them all, fierce darling Bear, had wanted to know everything about everything. Had wanted to learn as much as he could.

Chelsea Dietrich.

Her baby sister, bubbly tenacious Chels, had been the brightest part of her life. Had come to her whenever she wanted to feel safe or needed a hand to hold.

Ryan’s fingers pulled at her hair, because she could hear them. Hear them all behind the stone, crying out. Screaming from the bullets and the fire, from the things that ripped them apart and turned them to ash. Asking where she was, why she wasn’t there with them. Hadn’t she been there with them? Torn apart, set ablaze, and locked in the darkness? Even Ryan’s screams couldn’t drown them out. Not even her apologies, for daring to keep breathing and for existing out in the light, could get them to quiet. She thought she could even hear the stone starting to shift, to break apart, as they tried to claw their way out of the darkness. She belonged with them and had left, so now they were going to join her. As the first stone cracked, allowing a small hand to slip free, Ryan stumbled away and turned to press her face against the opposite wall.

The mausoleum was filled with screams, begging questions and yelled accusations, and Ryan pushed harder against the stone wall as hands started to pull at her. Grease stained fingers around her ankles and a small hand curling around her left wrist. Her eyes opened as she was pulled back, as hands that smelled like rot and lemon circled softly around her throat, and she saw the name carved in the stone ahead of her. The name that she had pressed her face against. Thickly carved lines, stark and shining wetly in the darkness as more hands pulled her backwards. As words were whispered, asking her to stay. Telling her to stay where she belonged. Reminding her that she was never meant to leave in the first place. All she could see was that name, the only one carved on this side of the mausoleum.

Ryan Lopez.

“Ryan!”

The sound of her own name, being shouted right into her face, caused her entire body to lock up. She went completely still, senses straining and overwhelmed, and it took her a moment to realize what had happened. She’d been dreaming. The grass, the moon, the mausoleum. It had all been a dream. She was lying in Bruce’s bed, on her back with his soft sheets tangled around her ankles, and she was breathing too fast. Her entire body was pushing up against Bruce’s with every terror-filled breath, because Bruce was braced over her. Elbows sinking into the plush mattress on either side of her head, and she locked her gaze with his. The warm color of his eyes helped chase away the cold of the phantom mausoleum, and her fingers scratched against his back before flattening to push him down. She needed to feel him pressed against her, to hold her down and ground her in this moment, and she slowed her breathing to match his. To get them moving in sync. Hooked a leg around his waist and pulled every part of him against her, until she was fully compressed.

“Tell me you’ll keep me here.” Her voice was rough, she must have screamed in her sleep, and Bruce’s eyes were searching hers. Determined to find the reasoning behind her words without any context, and her legs wrapped around his as he flattened himself against her.

“Anyone that wants you, will have to go through me,” he promised her. It shouldn’t be comforting. She shouldn’t want him to stand between her and death, but she shook in relief and clawed her hands against his shoulders. Gripped the back of his hair and pulled him down.

“Don’t carve my name into stone,” she whispered against his chin. He pulled back enough to see her, for his warm breath to drift across her skin, and she’d been crying. The shifting air drifted across the wet tracks, leaving behind a lingering coldness. His eyes were analyzing, mind working through everything he knew about her, and he dropped to press his brow against hers. Pressed tight. His solid heat against her shaking softness.

“Ashes to ashes,” slipped across her lips. Ryan would never be buried. Her name wouldn’t be immortalized in stone. When she was done, she’d be ash. As she was meant to be.

“Bruce.” The hands had reached for her, pulled at her, begged her to come home to them. “Bruce.” She had wanted the darkness, still did sometimes, but she wanted this more. Wanted him more. “Bruce.”

“It’s okay, I’m here,” Bruce said against her temple. He was blanketing her now, keeping her safe and protected from the world, and she slowly started to relax. Started to come back to herself. “You’re here, with me.”

Forever Taglist: @jinxsflame @hughstheforcelou@uno-reverse-reversed @hiddenqveendom @asirensrage @ocfairygodmother @jewelswrites-ish @reggiemantleholdmyhand-tle

[spaceskam]

only then i am human

Summary: Rosa and Alex have a talk.

Tags: friendship, asexual rosa

ao3

It was cold in Colorado.

Rosa felt a chill go down her spine, but it felt nice and sobering and she didn’t want to go inside to get a jacket. Instead, she swung her feet off the edge of the balcony, beneath the bars, and stared out to the nothingness around the hotel that Michael had picked.

She had listened to Alex and Michael old-married-couple argue the entire way up to the suite. Alex thought going somewhere expensive with a more obvious paper trail was stupid, but Michael had never been to a nice hotel and this was his only shot to do it with money he didn’t care about‒Jesse Manes’ life insurance. Alex stopped complaining whenever they got up to the suite and there was a separated bedroom and a pullout couch and the two of them would get to be alone for the first time since they left Roswell to go investigate.

Rosa had practically begged them to let her tag along, needing new scenery and to get away from everything that came with Isobel Evans. She was, again, too close for comfort and Rosa was starting to get anxiety whenever she came around, progress be damned. When she found out Michael and Alex were going to investigate Weird Alien Shit™, she jumped at the chance to put space between them.

But her mind was still hazy, still not liking the way she felt uncomfortable when Isobel texted to check-in. It was fine at first. She even liked talking to her for a while. And then it wasn’t fine.

Rosa flinched out of her daze as a blanket touched her shoulders and she looked to see Alex easing himself to sit beside her, placing his crutches on the ground beside him. He was in his nightclothes, his hair was wet, and he looked more relaxed than he had in a few days.

“Finally got laid?” Rosa asked. Alex snorted and rolled his eyes, but he didn’t deny it. Rosa let her eyes drift back out to the nothingness.

“You okay? It’s getting late,” he said instead. Rosa shrugged, resting her head against the bars. “Michael’s out cold, so you can talk without thinking he’s gonna overhear.”

Rosa huffed a laugh and looked back out. She didn’t actually care what Guerin heard. He was probably the only alien that didn’t make her skin crawl. She wasn’t sure if it was because Alex trusted him or if it was because he was brutally honest with her about everything, but she preferred him to even most people. Besides, he made Alex soft and fed him hot fudge sundaes and Alex deserved that.

“Isobel keeps texting me,” Rosa said.

“I thought you two were friends,” Alex said carefully. Rosa bit the inside of her cheek and swung her legs a bit harder.

“We‒are, but,” Rosa said, pausing as she tried to find the words, “I don’t know. Something is making it weird. Like, I’m not scared of her. But it’s close to fear. Or something. I don’t know, Alex, I don’t do feelings well.”

“Uncomfortable?” Alex guessed, slowly like he didn’t want to assume anything. Rosa shrugged but then nodded, though she wasn’t sure if that was the right word either. “How’s she acting?”

“I… I don’t know. She’s just too close sometimes. Leans too close and talks too close, like we’re a part of some inside joke together but I missed the memo. Kinda like it was before, Rosa tried, though it wasn’t quite right, “But not really. Like I don’t think she’s trying to make it weird. Does that make sense?”

“You think it might be PTSD?” Alex asked. Rosa instantly shook her head.

“No, it’s not just her.”

“Yeah, but you literally got murdered. Like… that can fuck someone up for more than just one person,” Alex said. Rosa’s lips twitched into a small smile and she shook her head.

“No, it’s not like that. It… It kinda happened before then. Drugs helped, honestly,” Rosa admitted, “Anyone who gets too comfortable with me in that way makes me feel weird and like I need to get away. And I usually can and do, but with her it’s a little different because we’re actually friends. And before everything, I either got high to deal with it or I pushed them away. But I’m friends with her, so I should be fine. I don’t know why I’m not fine. I don’t know, it’s weird, I don’t know how to explain it.” 

Rosa groaned, letting her head hit the bars with a bit of force. She hated trying to put her feelings into words.

“I mean, we’re close. I act close. You and Michael have been weirdly buddy-buddy. And Maria. Do you feel that with us?” Alex asked, though it sounded like he already knew the answer. Rosa eyed him until he quirked a small smile, a silent confirmation that he basically had her pegged.

“No. You two are gross, but I feel fine. Mostly.”

“So, do you think it might be, like, flirting? Is that what sets off the sirens in your head?” Alex asked. Rosa scrunched up her nose.

“Are they flirting?”

“I mean, I don’t know, I’m asking you,” Alex said, shrugging. Rosa looked more directly at him and wished he could just give her the answers. He was older than her now, so, really, he should be able to do that. “If they’re being close and stuff, it might be because she likes you. Just tell her you’re not interested.”

The idea of doing that made Rosa feel like locking herself in a small room and never coming out.

“Unless… You are interested.”

“No,” Rosa said instantly, shaking her head, “I’m not.”

“It’s okay if you are.”

“I’m not though,” Rosa said firmly, “But if I say something, she’s probably not going to be my friend anymore, right? Like she’ll get mad. And then I won’t have friends.”

“She won’t. And if she does then she’s the problem and fuck her,” Alex said simply. Rosa sighed, tilting her head back to look up at the moon. “Is this really like… a recurring problem? Where you get uncomfortable whenever you think someone might be flirting with you?”

“I mean, I’m just not interested in a relationship and I don’t want to lead anyone on and I don’t want to make anyone angry,” Rosa said, “It was much easier when I could just take something and not feel it.”

“Okay, but we’re not doing that. We’re working through it. Is it a rejection thing? A sexuality thing? Whenever I was in high school, I’d get that way when girls flirted with me, didn’t know what to do without giving them the wrong idea,” Alex offered, scooting closer as he tried to help. She appreciated it, but she also wished he’d leave her alone and go away. “You say you’re not interested. Are you, like, not interested at all… ever?”

“No offense, Alex, but I don’t want to have this conversation with you,” Rosa said. Alex huffed a small laugh.

“Who else is there to have it with?” Alex wondered. Rosa made a face and looked at him. He seemed open and earnest. He seemed grown up.

With a sigh, Rosa asked, “What does it feel like? When you like someone like that?”

“Like the scariest thing in the world and also the best. Like all the movie cliches make sense and half the time they’re all you can think about. You just want to be with them and have them pay attention to you. You just want them in anyway you can have them, like a craving you can’t satisfy. Like, with Michael, when we were younger, I was so scared of how much I wanted him, but he’d look at me and it felt like he trusted me and it made me feel brave. And, I don’t know, I guess I made him feel brave too. You just want to be close and to keep them safe and have them always,” Alex rambled, clearly trying his best to explain it.

For the first time, Rosa didn’t feel like she was drowning in confusion.

“Okay,” she said, “I’ve never felt like that before.”

“Ever?”

“No,” she said, laughing softly, “I thought that was fake.”

“Definitely not fake,” Alex said, looking at her with a soft look. Sort of like the one she tried so desperately to give him when he came to her, thirteen and miserable, to say he thought he liked boys and didn’t think he could tell anyone else.

He probably pulled it off much better than she did.

“Okay, then what does that make me? Heartless?” Rosa asked, though she didn't really feel bad about realizing what she wasn’t feeling. At least she knew that she was actually not feeling it and she wasn’t just drastically misunderstanding something. “A prude, maybe?”

“Have you ever looked into asexuality?” Alex asked. Rosa shook her head. “I haven’t really either to be fair. I actually learned about it from Michael. He apparently got really into queer literature and history whenever Max was dead, would read it to him as a way to be caring and annoying at the same time. Sometimes he’ll spout fun facts at me. Anyway, sounds like it might be something you wanna look into.”

“Okay, I will,” Rosa agreed, though she still found herself looking out to the nothingness.

“Not that you need labels. I just think sometimes knowing we’re not the only ones out there like us is helpful. And you’re already an anomaly in other ways, so might as well not make yourself feel more alone than you are, you know? It’s clearly upsetting you,” Alex said. Rosa nodded.

“I get it. Thanks.”

“And maybe talk to Isobel, tell her to give you some space.”

Rosa sighed, tilting her head back and closing her eyes for a moment. She just wanted everything to make since. She didn’t like navigating new friendships in the first place, it was scary and she was never able to gauge how they felt about her. It was easier, especially when she was sober, to just not deal with it. To just keep the friends she had now and push everyone else away.

But that wasn’t plausible or healthy and she knew it. That would lead a lonely existence and she was already lonely. She never felt like she was anyone’s person in the way she wanted to be someone’s person. And, really, it was a hard thing to request because she wasn’t sure how to explain it herself.

She supposed, however, that she would never get anywhere if she didn’t try.

“Seriously, trust me. Avoiding the tough conversations only leads to shitty situations. Like, you know, a decade of complications because you never speak,” Alex pointed out. Rosa rolled her eyes at him.

“You can’t pull that card with me, it’s you and Guerin’s fault for all that.”

Alex grinned and shrugged.

“Yeah, but once we talked, we got to a place that we’ve both been wanting for a long time. So cut out the bullshit and just tell her what you want and don’t want. Again, if she gets mad, fuck her,” Alex said. Rosa nodded and sighed all over again. Sometimes she hated having to be grown up. “Okay, I’m gonna go to bed. We’ve got a big week, so try to get some sleep yourself, okay? Love you.”

“Love you too,” Rosa said, accepting his smile as he pushed himself up and made his way back into the suite and into the room he was sharing with Michael.

It was weird hearing it put into words. She obviously knew people liked each other in a way different than she could understand, but she had never really clocked how real it was to them. She understood craving someone’s attention and presence, but it wasn’t in the way it seemed to be for Michael and Alex or even Liz and Max. She thought they were just being fucking annoying.

Maybe there was something she was missing.

Reluctantly, Rosa pulled out her phone and opened the text thread she’d had with Isobel.

Rosa: Hey, I think we should talk when I get back. Set some boundaries, maybe.

Before it could even show that Isobel had seen it, Rosa exited out and put her phone on do not disturb. She stared out at the trees and nothingness for a few more minutes before she eventually got the courage to get up and go inside. She shut the glass door and laid down on the pullout couch that Alex had set up for her. 

She hadn’t realized how tired she’d been until her head hit the pillow, a wave of exhaustion hitting her at full force. And she was thankful for that, honestly. It was easier to keep a clear head when you couldn’t stay awake.

Still, before she could fall asleep, she opened her notes app to type a reminder.

Asexuality. Ask guerin to borrow some of his books.

[gottawriteanegoortwo]

Meeting Damien in a Dream

Many people in this fandom refer to Damien as a ‘man of their dreams’. A lucid dream that turns into a very strange encounter with Damien is probably not the reason for that. 

In early June, I had a dream that I had documented in detail (1.4k words). I've spent time working on it and fleshing it out into a proper narrative that can be shared. In it, the reader (as in you and not the DA or a Heist!sona) is pulled into Damien’s waking world, where he has been placed into a life that isn’t his. But will your arrival cause upset? Or will you be able to give a bit of hope?

Word Count: 5,319 (yes, you read that right, hence the immediate read-more)

Alternatively, I’ve just uploaded this to AO3 if that’s easier to read.

-

There had been a lot on your mind when you collapsed into bed. Too many problems bounced around your mind as you tried to settle in bed. You lay there, counting your breaths and listening to the outside world while trying to lure sleep to you. It seemed elusive, until you closed your eyes and your grip on the waking world finally slipped.

Nights like these were ones that were endless. A dreamless sleep, followed by waking at a time that shouldn't exist, and finishing with utter exhaustion when morning eventually arrived was the normal running order. But not this time.

You gained awareness standing on the side of a road. It was still night, which made you panic for an instant. Had your restless mind prompted your body to get up and move? A quick glance to realise you were in your day clothes instead of your pyjamas helped ease that fear. You had successfully fallen asleep! But now you were mentally awake in a pitch-dark dreamscape. You tugged your shirt down as you gathered your bearings.

As your eyes adjusted to the darker surroundings, you learned you were on a quiet, suburban road that didn't match anywhere in your locality. Streetlights dotted the path on both sides of the road. You could see the entrance to a housing estate opposite you, and the entrance to a sporting field to your right. Where there were no streetlights, it was absolute darkness with no way to tell where the sky started. With no knowledge of what this dream location could be hiding, you decided to stick to the path and keep in the light where possible. 

The decision to be cautious worked in your favour. A path of lights stretched out as far as the eye could see. Even if the gaps between them were growing wider, they were still spots of safety in the midst of the unknown. The next light revealed the road connected to a roundabout, but it was the furthest distance away. You took a slow breath, tapped the balls of your feet against the ground, and broke into a sprint. Something growled in the darkness. You could feel something cold close to the back of your neck. There was a strong presence of someone approaching, reaching out…

You skidded to a halt under the welcoming amber glow and threw an accusatory glare at whatever was behind you. Nothing was there. For now, you took the moment to catch your breath and decide where to go from here. If you wanted to know why you were here, you would need to cross one of the abandoned roads. Two options lay before you: go down the road on the left, or keep going straight. 

“Hello?” 

You jumped in fright and spun around. There was still nothing behind you. However, there was a man standing to your right, on the other side of the road. Glancing around, you realised no one else was in view, so you waved in reply. He seemed relieved and hurried over. As he steps into the radius of your streetlight, your eyes widen as a name slips out of your lips:

Damien.

The man froze, one hand lifting to his chest as though it would protect him. You could see him clearly. Though the hair was not combed back to perfection, nor was it long and unkempt like a man lost in the woods, there was no denying that you recognised him.

“How… How do you know me? Who are you?” He was wary, as though bracing himself for the worst. You gave him your name and explained that you knew he was a mayor that had been involved in a tragedy at a poker night. Though brief, it was enough of an answer to get a reaction. Damien’s hand trembled as he tried to decide how to take this. But just as you were about to question whether you made a mistake and said something that hadn’t happened, Damien smiled.

“You… You know.” The hand was lifted to brush through his hair as he let out a shaky laugh. “I thought I was going crazy. But y-you know those memories. I haven’t met anyone who knows what happened since -” You weren’t sure what cut him off, but he quickly reached out and grabbed your wrist. “I’m sorry, I don’t want to lose this opportunity just yet.” A wave of dizziness hit you, and everything went black.

-

The world around you slowly returned to focus like you had a sudden lightheaded spell. Damien was in front of you with worry on his face.

“I-I’m so sorry, I acted without thinking about what might happen to you… Are you alright?” You nodded, and he sighed in relief. “W-well… Don’t be alarmed, but you appear to be incorporeal right now. I think I’m the only one who can see you.” Ignoring the request to keep calm, you felt your heart rate spike when you raised your hands and discovered you could see the path below you. When you locked eyes with Damien, it was clear how guilty he was and you forced yourself to calm down. He pulled out his phone and placed it to his ear, gesturing for you to follow him.

“My sleep schedule has been strained,” you noticed Damien was using the phone as an excuse to talk out loud and avoid glances from people passing by, “which means that if I get stressed, my ‘sleep’ turns into a waking nightmare. I find myself in a place darker than night, wandering aimlessly through snow, or ruined buildings, all while watching the movements of every shadow. I’ve never met someone there before. I’m sorry again for pulling you back without thinking. I had no idea this would happen, but I needed to know. I needed to hear what you had to say. How much do you know about - about what happened to me?”

You noted it was in the past tense. The events that you had watched already happened. You nodded, took a deep breath, and began giving some points.

Damien was a mayor. He had been invited to a poker night hosted by an old friend of his. The party host was murdered, which set off a chain of events. Ultimately, Damien’s body was stolen during a seance.

All the while, Damien was silent. The phone was still pressed against his ear, though his grip tightened once he realised there was a possibility he might be dead. You trailed off when his pace slowed to a halt, flashing a look to see if he was okay.

“Y-yes, I… I’m alright. It’s a lot to take in, but I did ask for it. But it matches what I recall.” He collected himself enough to flash you a smile you could never have imagined seeing off a screen (which was absolutely perfect, for the record). “Here we are. This is where I’m living. It might be the best place to talk without anyone hearing us. It’s starting to lighten up” Beside the entrance to a store was a locked door painted pale green. He unlocked and opened the door, gesturing for you to go inside. You climbed up the entranceway stairs and, after prompting from Damien, opened the door opposite the stairway.

A spacious living area was spread out before you. It was a contemporary design, consisting of an open floor-plan and a lot of white. There was a small sitting area to your right, with armchairs and couches facing a TV and an electric fireplace. To your left, there was a white couch in front of a coffee table, with a kitchen chair pulled up beside it. The room continued around a corner to reveal a small kitchen tucked away with a dining table at the far wall. You guessed the apartment was spread over two stores with how expansive everything seemed. Even so, you couldn't help but feel it lacked 'life', like it was a home plucked out of a magazine rather than one someone spent time perfecting. It was in opposition to Damien himself and how lively he was in the short amount of time you spent with him.

As you reflected on the unusual contrast, he moved to the large windows showcasing the view of the streets below. You followed him, gasping when you saw a portion of the city sprawled out before you.

“It’s a beautiful place, isn’t it?” Damien tilted his head to the side to acknowledge your arrival. "It's not the city I called home. I've gotten lost at least a dozen times since I was allowed to explore on my own. Yet, apparently I've lived in the city for five years."

Five years? You thought that fact an unusual statement to make, and Damien agreed. He turned from the view and knelt down beside a coffee table.

"I'm not from this place. Yet, one day, I woke up in a hospital." He lifted out a notebook and placed it on the table. It was a generic hardback notebook with "Journal" printed on the front in cursive. "Everyone kept telling me that this was where I belonged, this is what I was supposed to do… but I knew it wasn’t right. I couldn’t believe them when I have memories of living somewhere else entirely and none of a life I’ve apparently lived here. I don't have anywhere else to go, so I've begun writing to 'gather' my 'lost' memories." The moment you realised you weren't see-through, you reached out for it, only lifting it when he gave permission. It reminded you of the Detective's cork boards, with pages dotted with Polaroid photos and notes in a meat handwriting. In order to fit in, Damien was putting in a lot of work.

A click caught your attention, and you lifted your gaze from the book in time to see Damien lift the false bottom of the drawer to reveal a second, identical notebook. This one he opened on the table for you both to see. 

"One morning, I woke up and I thought I was part of this place. It was only as I saw my reflection I remembered. Words can't explain how frightening that moment was. I thought it best to write my true memories down as well… I don't want to forget any more than I already have." His hand slowly brushed over a page as he gave a forlorn sigh. As much as you wanted to spring forward and offer to fill in the blanks, the two pages were dedicated to the "Dear Friend from University" - the only character without a set identity. "I've tried going to the library to find books on the matter or use their computers, but nothing comes up. I can't help but wonder if there is a deeper mystery to all of this. If what you say is true, then it further confirms my suspicions that something isn’t quite right. Could you pass me the pen attached to that book?" When you did so, he continued talking while writing, "Why only me? I cannot find any trace of what happened to anyone I knew. I checked an online article detailing the terms of mayors in my beloved city… My name wasn't there. Instead, it was as though one mayoral term was a 'blank', for lack of a better word." Your expression was grim as Damien wrote the question 'am I dead?' on the page. Though you decided against it at first, you asked if he knew the name 'Dark'. He shook his head, so you decided to try and describe him: a man around Damien's height, with black hair and grey skin. He wore a suit - either black or white depending on the source - and was surrounded by red and blue 'lights'. 

"Actually… that does sound familiar." Damien's eyes widened in realisation. "I remember reading several articles in the paper about incidents around the country with a mysterious figure. The targets were always rescued before anything happened but all of them mentioned something about it… glitching in red and blue." You nod, advising Damien to keep away from that figure. Wherever it went, another man went too, you explained, one that dressed in red that called himself ‘Mark’. You were sure trouble would haunt Damien if he were to get tangled up in that web. Though Damien never spent time chopping wood in an abandoned forest, it was better to warn him about the Actor, just in case he too was hunting Damien. You didn't know the full story now that a character was displaced.

The next half an hour was dedicated to going through the 'past life' notes (that you noted was simply labelled 'brainstorms' on the inside cover). Where you could, you helped Damien fill in some of the blanks, but a lot of it was spent listening. He was elated to be able to talk to someone about his true memories without worrying how others would react to these 'concerning ideas'. When he caught himself rambling and apologised, you refused to accept it and urged him to continue talking. He would only do so on the condition that you had something to drink - something about ‘making sure you didn’t vanish’.

With his back to you, an idea struck as you snatched the 'past life' notebook. There were a series of frustrated scribbles and notes spread across the top of the page, but there was a gap perfect for a doodle. You sprung to work to draw a cat, until -

"You better not be doodling in there."

- Damien's voice overhead made you jump in fright and drop the pen. He laughed as he handed you a glass of water, admitting it was good to know you weren't going to fade again.

“Before anything else happens… Thank you. I’ve bottled all of these memories in my heart for so long that I thought I was starting to go mad and I was creating a fictional story. But meeting you, hearing you confirm everything… It has lifted a heavy weight off my shoulders. Mayhaps I am in a position where I won’t be able to do anything further to resolve ‘why’ I am here, but at the very least I can take comfort in knowing the ‘what’ and ‘how’ are true.” The ‘past life’ notebook was closed and put aside so Damien could open the ‘journal’ again. “And if I know who I am is true, then I can work on perfecting the act of pretending I lived here. It is as though I am cast in a play that I never received the script from. If you are able to stay long enough, you might be able to see the absurdities for yourself.”

This explanation made you start in alarm, and you frantically asked if Damien knew anyone that dressed in a maroon suit and carried a black cane, or a grey suit with a white shirt and red tie.

“No… Neither of those outfits sound familiar,” Damien admitted as he shook his head. “Then again, there are a lot of people I don’t know. If there is a man fitting that description, I may not have met him yet. Nevertheless, I appreciate the warning and will try to avoid him.”  There was a short pause as he flipped through the notes. “It’s been a long time since I’ve made a friend of my own. Everyone here already knew me, or I met them through others. It’s been pleasant having the company without the expectations on me to fit in.” Your confusion was noticed, but Damien continued, “As wonderful as this new life is, and as nice as it is to not be working, I cannot shake the loneliness. Everyone knows too much about me, but I know nothing about them. Don’t get me wrong, they seem like pleasant people who have been so patient with me. Having a diagnosis of ‘amnesia’ is a good excuse to not remember things, but it’s been stressful. If I could leave, I would… But where else can I go if I cannot find anyone I once knew? I have no friends, no family here… It’s like I don’t exist at all beyond a small group of people.”

“Damien?”

The door to the stairs opened, and you both stared at the new entrant like deer caught in headlights. A woman in her early thirties entered the room, eyes wide at the unusual scene before her. Her blonde hair was tied in a messy bun that was starting to come loose. She wore off-white scrubs with an ID badge clipped on that helped you realise she was a nurse. Several seconds passed before she blinked and pulled on a smile.

“I didn’t realise we had company. I’ll be back in a moment.” She swiftly disappeared out the door. You looked at Damien in alarm, though all he offered in return at first was a light shrug as he got to his feet and helped you up. He waited until you both were making breakfast before providing context.

“Her name is Marianne, and she - supposedly - is my wife in this place.” He lifted his left hand to show a silver wedding band before resuming his slow stirring of batter. “When I woke up in the hospital, she was by my bedside, worried sick about me. Of course, this turned to sheer panic when she realised I didn’t recognise her. She ran out to find a doctor, and it was only then that I noticed a ring on my hand. It is… Troubling to find yourself in a position like this, much less with someone who clearly adores you. I am very fond of her, but I’m still undecided as to whether whatever sort of love I feel is genuine or simply platonic. I do not miss her when she is gone, for instance, but I enjoy her company when she is here. It’s another confusing layer to this mess I’m in.” His head tilted to the right at the faint sound of a click. “Though I will die on the hill that this little kitchen needs a little more colour to it.” Your eyebrows furrowed at the sudden topic switch, thinking that maybe your strange situation had finally started to turn into a normal dream.

“Damien, we’ve been over this. We had agreed on keeping the cupboards black because it is a contrast to the white of the sofas. Stop trying to persuade everyone otherwise.” Marianne had appeared behind you, a hand on her hip with an amused smile. She had changed into a summery pale blue shirt with dark skinny jeans and white sneakers. Her hair fell in loose waves around her shoulders, though a section each side was clipped back. “I only wish you told me we would be having a visitor before I left for work yesterday.”

“It wasn’t planned,” Damien countered, loosely waving his wooden spoon in self-defense. “I wasn’t going to leave my university friend without shelter for the night.”

“University friend? But I was at your reunion with your friends in your course last year.” You felt intimidated under Marianne’s suspicion, but you somehow steeled your nerves and shook your head. Improvising on the spot, you said that you were friends from university, but you met through one of the societies - the book club, you blurted when quizzed about it - and kept loosely in touch that way. You even had to fabricate a story that shared your woes of missing the one bus of the day home after travelling up specially to meet relatives. Only that you happened to meet Damien, you would have been stranded.

“Now, now. Let’s have breakfast so you can tell us how work went, Marianne.”

-

You had to keep your guard up during breakfast. You couldn’t taste a thing (a dream couldn’t be that perfect), which meant you were fully focused on Marianne’s questions once she finished talking about problems at work. What course you studied, why she never saw you and Damien meet before, what you were doing now. As you gave good answers, you could see her relax, which made your stomach knot in guilt. It must have been a terrifying thought to come home and see your husband talking amicably to a stranger first thing in the morning.

As you stood up, the room seemed to shudder a little. The kitchen table was cleared up, and Damien was being pushed out of the room by Marianne, who insisted that he needed to rest. With him out of the room, you were frightened you would find yourself in the middle of trouble. Instead, Marianne gestured for you to sit on the sofa while she sat on the armchair.

“I’m sorry for my behaviour earlier. I should never have asked such personal questions. I’ve been so worried about Damien, the last thing I’d want is someone taking advantage of his amnesia to hurt him. Instead, I should be thankful he met a friend on one of his late-night walks. I’ve been encouraging him to reach out to friends and family.” Ignoring the fact Damien admitted he didn’t have friends or family of his own here, you were quick to accept the apology, adding that Damien had mentioned something about ‘amnesia’ and a hospital. “Yes… Damien was involved in an accident a few months earlier that impacted his head more than anywhere else. Everyone said it was a miracle that he only had issues with recollection of long-term memories before the day he woke up, but there were so few resources available for us. We’ve had to resort to him writing everything down in the hopes something returns to him. I’m sure he showed it to you too?” You nodded and asked about the accident. Strangely, she didn’t answer, but instead rose to her feet and made her way to the photos on the wall.

“Damien is still the man I married three years ago. I still love him. Yet some days, it breaks my heart to remember he has forgotten me completely. Everything we have done together was brushed away effortlessly and we have to start over again. He never gave up on me when I changed careers to nursing, so I won’t give up on him - even if we have to restart our entire relationship.” You were tempted to repeat your question, only to decide against it. You got back up onto your feet to examine the photos as well. She was able to point out their honeymoon in Paris, a cute selfie of the couple on their first anniversary, and them in the middle of a group dressed in Victorian era clothing.

“Oh, this was the first production Damien and I were involved in - A Picture of Dorian Gray. We actually met through this theatre company.” You hummed in amusement at the sight of Damien dressed in plain, all-black clothes beside a lady in an elegant ball gown, before the words she spoke belatedly slapped you on the face.

They met through a theatre company.

You opened your mouth to ask the name of the theatre company when a loud series of knocks caught you both off-guard.

“Oh no, I completely forgot -” She cut herself off as she hurried to the door. You peered out behind her in time to see Damien trudging down the stairs.

“Is there another rehearsal happening here, Marianne?” he groaned.

“Yes… I’m so sorry. It slipped my mind!”

Damien opened the door, and you had to rub your eyes with your fists to make sure you weren’t seeing things. People dressed in what looked like dance costumes inspired by exotic birds began filing up the stairs to the living room. You scrambled out of the way, noticing Damien’s two notebooks were still on the table. Leaving them there could cause a lot of trouble for Damien, so you took it upon yourself to tidy them up. You hesitated as an idea crossed your mind. Grabbing Damien’s ‘past life’ notebook, you opened to the next blank page and wrote a quick message. In it, you made sure to mention you were proud of him for never doubting himself in these confusing times and that he was doing great. You signed your name, accompanied it with a doodled self-portrait and several affirming messages. The pen was returned to its proper place and you placed the notebooks in the same way Damien had them hidden in the drawer, just as he approached with relief on his face.

“Thank you. I don’t want anyone seeing those.” He knelt beside you and locked the drawer. The key was put into his shirt pocket. “These -” he gestured to the brightly coloured fiasco on the other side of the room, “- are my daytimes. There is always something happening, and it’s far too busy for my liking. On one hand, I'm encouraged to rest during the day, but I'm not able to when there's always something happening that I'm forced to help out with.” 

He led you toward the kitchen while the costumed visitors began rearranging the room to make space. Some of them were eager to see a new face and hurried over to chat. All you could see was the blurring of vivid colours until suddenly, they were waving goodbye and hurried off, leaving you standing beside Damien on the street as the sun was beginning to set. Your eyes darted around as you tried to gather your bearings. Marianne and another man were several paces ahead of you, absorbed in conversation.

“Are you alright?” Damien placed a hand on your shoulder and squeezed it gently. “You vanished. I thought you had woken up. We’re currently going to bring you to the bus that you told Marianne you missed. Interestingly, she had insisted this was what we were doing, despite the fact you weren’t there at all. No one had noticed you were absent except for me.” The mention of getting a bus was on your mind and you asked how you could get a bus that didn’t actually exist, and no one knew where you came from. Damien hummed in agreement, throwing a glance ahead to make sure neither of you would be heard by Marianne and her friend. “My thoughts exactly. It only proves that something isn’t quite right here. We need to wake you up, in case something like that happens again. I don’t want you trapped here because of my impulsive actions, especially if you think danger might be afoot.” You wondered how you could be woken up. Damien couldn't think of a practical solution.

You felt a hand drape over your shoulder and yank you back a step.

“And here I thought you were going to run onto the bus without saying hello first!” Looking up in fright, you found yourself staring at a man. No matter how hard you tried, his face was a blur. All you knew for sure was that he was average height and wore a dark red zip-up hoodie over a white t-shirt and black jeans. “I didn’t even know you were in town. Why didn’t you call me sooner? It would’ve been a much nicer surprise than arriving at Damien and Marianne’s place and seeing you there!”

“You two know each other?” Damien asked. You shook your head just as you lost your balance and tumbled into the man when he gave you a tight sideways hug.

“Oh, we go waaaay back. My grandparents lived next-door to their family home. I’d spend most school holidays in the area. The amount of adventures we got up to back in the day! I know Marianne remembers my tales about how I got some of my childhood scars, but this rascal here was my partner in crime on those splendid summer schemes! Oh! I was just thinking about sending you an email the other day -” You were guided down the street where a bus was parked while the man prattled on. There was a small queue as they waited to board.

“That really is such a small world! Who would have thought Damien’s university friend was your childhood friend?” Marianne gasped. Damien, however, looked unconvinced, but stayed silent. “Wait wait, was this the house that had Flopsy?”

“The one and the same!” the man laughed. “I’m sure Damien knows all about Flopsy, the orange tabby cat with the longest ears I’d ever seen. Why, that darned cat was fond of climbing onto my shoulder to try and eat my hair every time I sat on the couch!”

You knew your family home and the occupants of it. Yet, all of a sudden, you had a clear memory of a boy with a long-eared cat trying to perch on his shoulder. You also knew what your neighbours looked like, but something was trying to override that with visions of an elderly couple in a cute cottage with a picket fence. You needed to get the bus home so you could visit family, and make sure everything was okay, right? You had a job to get back to in another town, that sounded right.

“- And you know, you really must come visit me next time you’re in town. We have so much to catch up on. Send me an email when you get back. We’ll arrange -”

You felt a warm hand taking yours before you were yanked back toward Damien. “They’re going to miss the bus again,” he blurted as he put a hand on your shoulder and guided you to the bus, "so get going and get home safe!” He pushed you and you staggered onto the steps of the bus.

In an instant, the fog that had settled in your mind dispersed as the fake memories vanished. You turned back to Damien, Marianne and the man in red. But as the door closed, you could finally see his face to realise it was Mark.

The door slammed shut, and you woke up with a start.

You untangled yourself from your sheets as you frantically made sure this was your room. Slow breaths helped ground you, and you focused on your hands as proof that this moment was a waking one. That was when you realised one hand was clenched tight. You opened it, and a piece of paper tumbled out. It had been neatly folded before it had been bunched into your hand, and you treated it with care as you spread it out and straightened it out on your lap.

The writing wasn’t yours, but you recognised it.

“Thank you for the unexpected meeting. You’ve given me the confidence to hold firm and figure out the mess I’m in. I hope our paths cross again. Keep safe until that day comes. Damien.”

[four-rabbit]

Game Night

I don’t really know what this is, I’m just glad I was finally able to finish a sanders sides’ fanfic for the first time. 

This fanfic was born from the last video, obviously, and the realization that the creativity twins canonically feel physical pain when their ideas are desregard or their function is “offended” let’s say, which I had to exagerate and turn int angst, of course, so enjoy!

Summary: Remus get sick so frequently that those nights have became his idea of a sleepover. 

Ship: platonic dukeceit. Or romantic. You can interpret it however you want

Characters: Remus Sanders, Virgil Sanders and Janus Sanders 

Warnings: swearing, kinda grapphic descriptions of pain and sickness, mentions to vomit. Also maybe some umsympathetic Virgil? I don’t see it like that, but I guess it depends on how you interpret it. 

Word Count: 1729

Sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language

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

If Remus was real, he would be dead. 

And if snakes could demonstrate worry, they would make exactly the same expression that Janus had after looking at the thermometer. 

"How do you manage to get so bad so quickly?" 

"What can I say, being bad is the only thing I'm good at" Remus joked, the words scratching his throat as an unwanted cough came with them. Janus rolled his eyes, trying to seem calm. And falling. 

"Any idea what was the cause this time?" Remus' focus went down to the old and familiar sheet, which he fiddled with, avoiding the question. 

"How hot am I?" He vaguely pointed to the thermometer. 

"You have a 113°F fever" 

"Well, fuck. That's a new record" he touched his own forehead, smiling almost maniacally right after "Shit. How long do you think it takes until my brain melts? 

"Bold of you to assume it hadn't already" Virgil was the one to answer, entering the room with a bowl of hot soup in his hands. 

"Wow Virgil, that was fast " Janus lied, raising an eyebrow. "What happened?"

"I was trying to actually cook something real for once"

"Please don't tell me your burned the kitchen" the half-snake child replied, with some amount of actual fear behind the dramatic hand to his chest and horrified expression. 

"Ha ha" pause "...not on purpose" Virgil replied, looking away. 

 "Yeah, that's my job!"

"Remus, eat your soup, the grownups are talking" the embodiment of Fear interrupted jokingly, even though any of them was older then twelve. Then he turned to Janus again, already guessing what he was going to say "but... it's fine now. I took care of it" Janus made a mental note to go take a look at the damage as fast as possible. They could all be kids, but Janus knew very well he was the only responsible there. 

"I don't like it...!" Creativity replied, sounding like a child who doesn't want to eat salad. Janus sighed as his thoughts were interrupted, conjuring a bottle of perfume and poured it in the meal. 

"Now eat" and so he did. Virgil raised an eyebrow, but he was smiling, trying not to be so worried. Or at least not demonstrate it. After so many times, he should be used to it, but... well, he was Fear. It was his job to keep track of the worst case scenarios.

"Did he get better?"

"On the contrary. The fever is higher than ever"

"And I also feel like someone ripped my bones out of my skin and then put them back, but like... in the wrong way" Remus added, spilling hot soup all over the sheet and his clothes by trying to communicate with his mouth full. 

"So it's one of those nights" Virgil mumbled.

"I'm afraid so" 

Remus finished his soup smiling like there was no tomorrow, opening his arms despite how much that simple gesture hurted "Game night while I'm dying!" Janus smiled, with more sadness in his eyes than anything else. 

"I'll get the monopoly"

•••

"I won"

"No, you did fucking not" Remus immediately answered, not even looking away from his cards.

"You can see for yourself" Janus showed his game, which clearly meant a victory, indeed. Remus tossed his cards on the sheet like it was their fault. He was so fucking close!

"You cheated" Virgil said sharply, as if it was an undeniable fact. 

"Do you have any proof? Janus challenged, not losing a beat or his mischievous smile.

"Yeah. It's the only thing you know how to do" the teenager replied, his tone as cold as a lake in the winter. Janus looked down before he could help himself. Couldn't he keep it down for at least one night? The night Remus needed both of them?

The cards caught fire. It was an accident, but Remus decided to go with that, jumping out of the sheets, trying to ignore the terrible twist that movement gave to his stomach. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if he threw up. At least that way these two would stop fucking fighting. 

"What the hell?!" Virgil exclaimed, tossing his game away like it was burning. Which was the case, indeed.

"Let's watch a horror movie!" Well, he got their attention. 

"Did you need to burn things before saying that?!" Virgil screamed. He was standing and seemed even more distressed.This was a mistake, Janus realized. It was foolish to think they could ignore their differences for the sake of Remus. 

"It's more fun this way! What can it be? One of the classics? Some shitty obscure one?" He kept trying, getting out of bed and walking toward Virgil, who walked away from him. Janus immediately got up too, already anticipating the disaster that situation could turn to. A worst one. Because it was already a disaster. 

"Please, control yourselves"

"I'm controlled! I'm not the one burning things" Virgil replied, the trace of the tempestuous tongue in his voice proving that he was anything but in control. 

"Remus, please. Apologize for burning the cards"

"It's just some stupid paper!

"Now"

"It was a fucking accident"

"We all know it wasn't" Janus almost, almost told Virgil to shut up after that. But he didn't need to make things worse than they already were.

"It was a fucking accident" his voice started getting threatened, his eyes started shining with a red danger "But you know what wouldn't be a fucking accident? if I..." his vision went black, a headache that felt like someone had opened his skull being everything that existed and then not even that. 

Anxiety got out of the room immediately after his friend fainted, keeping his gaze to the ground, knowing that he wouldn't be able to stand any amount of time alone with Deceit. 

•••

   Remus wished he was real, so he would be dead. 

   He felt like someone had catched his body on fire, then hit his head with an axe, then exchanged his blood for poison and his bones with knives. 

   "I knew you were stupid, but not stupid enough to try and suggest an idea for Thomas. On your own. After terrorizing him the whole night. Literally hours after recovering from your last..." Janus looked down at his friend, in one of the only moments he didn't try to hide his emotions. Fear. Somebody had to fill the vacancy now that Virgil is gone, I suppose. 

   "It was..." He coughed blood. "A good idea"

   "Oh yeah, I'm sure he thought the same" Janus rolled his eyes. Remus tried to say that he would be fine, but his throat still hurt from the acid of his stomach and the scratching of his coughs. 

   "I told you to not do anything too dangerous. We are..." he looked down to his gloves which, as he knew, covered up for the scales that apparently had decided that half of his face was not punishment enough. "In a delicate situation, now that..."

   "The emo is gone. I know" Remus completed, his voice not much more than a whisper. 

   "Oh please, no. We are better off without him haunting us all day. If he prefers to deal with them, the only thing I feel is pity" anyone else would have believed that. Remus knew it was bullshit the second those words left his mouth. But he didn't say that. Mostly because he was feeling nauseous again and he learned that, apparently, people don't like if you throw up while trying to talk to them. 

   Janus stayed in silence for a couple more seconds, then something changed in his eyes and he got up.

   "Well, if you need me, I'll be reading" said, but before he could go too far, Remus grabbed the bottom of his coat, deciding to make use of his positions of creativity, as with a snap of his fingers green words appeared in the air:

   "It's game night, not a fucking book club"

   "I don't think you're able to play games right now"

   "I've never been better in my entire fucking life"

   The words glitched as his consciousness stumbled. 

   "Remus"

   "You've been reading, studying, planning, whatever every fucking time we were together" he finally was able to find his voice again "Is it me, Virgil, or just you being a dick? 

   "You need to rest"

   "I'm gonna vomit on your shoes"

   Janus sighed, sitting again on the bed. 

   "What do you propose?"

   "Truth or dare" Janus never plays truth or dare. The two of them, Virgil and Remus, would play it at any given opportunity, on the other hand. 

   "Don't test me"

   Floating words again: "I'm gonna take it easy"

   "You never take it easy."

   Remus frowned. 

   "Ok" the half-snake man sighed "let's find a compromise: I can play Never Have I Ever" 

   Remus smiled diabolically. So they had a deal. 

•••

   "Finally! It's been so long since our last sleepover!"

   "This is anything but a sleepover" Janus replied, not looking away from his book.

   "Yes it is! We're sleeping together not in a sexual way and wearing pajamas.

   "I'm not-" Remus snapped his fingers and suddenly Janus had a yellow onesie on. "...I'm not having a sleepover with you. And you're not even that bad"

   "But I'll be. And in the meantime... Please play truth or dare with me just this time please please" he said in one breath. 

   "You already know my opinion about this game"

   "I know that you like it! You would always laugh and even participate when me and Virgin played!" Janus flinched.

   "That was a long time ago"

   "Just two rounds!" 

   "I..."

   "C'mon! You're not gonna lose an arm if you play just one time. And even if you did, you would still have five perfectly good ones left"

  Janus hesitated. He knew Remus would get worse. It was obvious by the tiredness in his voice, even when he was so excited. And how pale he was. How deep his eyeshadow appeared, making him seem like a dead body. 

   He sighed. Remus smiled from ear to ear. Literally.

   "Truth or dare?!" Asked as if he was a child whose birthday had come earlier.

   "Dare, obviously" Janus said, unable to stop himself from smiling at his friend's happiness, even though they both knew it wouldn't last long. 

   But that was okay. Because they would have one another. And that was enough. It had to be.

[flying-nightwing]

The Wish to Make on a Dying Breath

Heyyyy people. It’s been a while! So this isn’t what I had promised but I wanted to experiment with words a little bit and this is what i came up with. Apparently I do love death as a central theme because this is about death again. Sorry!

Masterlist pinned/in bio

Pairing: Jason Todd x Death!Reader (gender neutral)

Word count: 2422

Warnings: Jason Todd dying a few times but don’t worry it’s not a tragic story, fatal injuries, talk about the afterlife

Summary: You are the powerful entity of Death, keeping watch on the Earth and making sure souls are properly transitioned into the afterlife. One night, you are called in person to a specific death, where you meet the one and only Jason Todd

You have seen a lot of things.

People being born and dying, the rise and fall of empires, the best and the worst of humanity, sometimes co-existing side to side closer than they would even know. There was not a lot that could impress you anymore, but sometimes there were circumstances, lone stars of events that still drew your curiosity. After all, human kind has always been an unpredictable species that managed to take you by surprise from time to time. Your work had changed since you had first been needed. There were too many people on the Earth now for you to handle personally, and you didn’t quite know what factor made you select some people over others. 

The night grew silent as you appeared outside an abandoned building on the outskirts of the big city casting a bright light in the distance. You went in, navigating the filthy hallways slowly. It wasn’t long until you reached a bigger room filled with dynamite crates and gasoline puddles on the uneven concrete. In the middle laid someone bloodied and battered and a countdown frozen on the precise moment the last second flipped to zero. 

You walked to them and crouched, noticing how it was just a boy. Young, yet wearing a haunted expression that added years to his traits. There was a single tear that had been rolling down his cheek, a tear of defeat and heartbreak, a tear that was too emotionally charged for a teenager. With a heavy sigh, you reached to him and gently cupped his jaw. 

In less than a second, you felt his entire body tense like an electrical shock went through it and he leaped back, away from you. His eyes were wide as he frantically looked around, aggressively wiping the tear from his cheek. You stood up slowly, observing him. He sniffled, sending you a wary glare, until his eyes found the countdown. Incomprehension was written all over him in verses and his breathing was ragged. 

“Am I dead?”

You have seen a lot of things. Good people pleading to live another day, children not understanding what was happening to them, painful unwilling resignation to cross to the other side. But as he spoke, his voice cracked and scared, you couldn’t help but feel a slow sadness creep inside of you. He was one of these cases that just didn’t feel right, but that had to happen. 

“Not yet” You replied softly. 

“But I will be”

It wasn’t a question. You smiled sadly.

“Yes” You sighed, glancing at the countdown. “Once this reaches 0, I can only suppose this place will blow up with you in it”

He wiped another tear, smearing blood on his cheek. “Why can’t I feel pain?” He asked. “I can’t move, how am I moving?”

You gave him another smile. “I froze time, and by doing so, created a temporary plane of existence on which you are right now” You explained. “I can bend the rules a little more freely here”

His eyes turned critical. He understood what you were saying, easier than most people you remarked. He was just not sure whether to take your word for it, and his confusion turned into suspicion. “Who are you?”

You didn’t flinch at the harshness of his voice. “Have you not figured it out yet?”

“I dealt with enough meta, I don’t keep track of who can do what” He scoffed weakly, but you could see the fight in him. You admired the courage mask he had hurried to put on, because not a lot of people had the guts to stand up to Death itself like that. 

“I see what you mean” You said. “But I am not a meta. I am Death”

His eyes narrowed before he looked up to the ceiling. “Yeah sure” He drawled out, setting his glance back on you. “And I am the crown prince of Denmark”

You chuckled. “You have quite the temper” You pointed out as you began walking around, stopping in front of a crate. A clown face had been spray painted on it, on every one of them. Then, you turned to the boy again, looking him in the eyes. “But I think deep down you know I am telling the truth”

He shifted on his feet. “You don’t look like Death”

“You mean the gravely old man, or the skeleton in the black robes with a scyther?” 

He scoffed again.

“My form does change a lot, but those are myths” You answered. “I will appear to you depending on who you are and what you’ve done. Only terrible people are faced with terrible reapers”

“You look like an angel” 

He seemed surprised by the words he blurted out as a blush crept onto his face. He hadn’t meant to say it out loud, that was clear. You looked down, trying to rein back the smile that wanted to break out on your lips. He was truly a unique case, and you began to understand why you had been called to him. 

“It means you deserved an angel” You nodded your head slowly. “You should be proud of your time on Earth. You were a good person, and you did good things”

“Will it hurt?” He asked.

You shook your head. “It’s going to be quick, once I restart the time” 

“What will come next?”

“I’m sorry” You apologized. “This is something I can’t tell you”

“What if I don’t want to come?”

“I’m afraid that is not up to you” You sighed. 

He seemed disappointed, but nodded nevertheless. “Do your thing”

“Everything’s gonna be okay” You reassured with one last smile, gesturing for him to return to his initial position. He kneeled down, then let himself fall into the ground as he regained the plane of existence he belonged to. And just like that, he was once again frozen along with everything else. You took a moment longer to look at him before you resumed time.

The explosion took everything in its wake, everything but you.

--- 

The alley was dirty and wet, and even with time stopped, you could just hear pipes leaking and rat rummaging through the garbage. 

Gotham hasn’t really gotten better since your last visit. 

You walked deeper into the alley until you saw not one, but two figures frozen with the rest of the world. As you approached you noticed a leather jacket covering a red bat, even redder with a torrent of blood drowning it. Then your eyes trailed up to a defined face, scarred but beautiful, dark hair with a white streak hanging on his forehead. His eyelids were half closed as he stared up at the red haired man kneeling beside him, who seemed to be searching his pockets for anything to stop the bleeding. 

Even without seeing his eyes completely, you knew who it was.

You approached him, and just like you did the first time, you reached for his cheek. His eyes fluttered open, finding yours quickly. You watched as they widened, letting you see the bright blue that had marked your mind forever. This time, he didn’t jump back. 

“It’s you” His voice was no louder than a breath caught in the wind. 

“It’s me” You smiled, watching as he sat up straight from the pile of old cardboard boxes he was leaning on.

You had heard of his comeback to life, of course you did. It wasn’t the first time it happened in history, and most times you had to find a way to tip the dominos so the balance could return to the normal. But you couldn’t hide to yourself you sometimes played favourites and let him be for the time being.

“I didn’t expect to see you again so soon”

“The feeling is mutual” There was a small scoff in his voice, but nothing mean or sarcastic. He was looking at you with wonder and curiosity, being way calmer this time around. “Multiple bullets to the chest is not how I envisioned my second death, to be honest”

“Rarely anyone expects that” You hummed. 

“Touché” He sighed, looking you up and down. He then frowned. “ I don’t get it”

You waited for him to express his thoughts. You doubted he meant death, or the bullets for that matter. 

“You still look like an angel,” He said, blinking. “How do you still look like an angel?”

“Nothing has changed, Jason” You replied. “You are still a good person, who has done good things”

His expression changed. There was a calculating look in his eyes, and emotion brewing under. “You know my name”

“I know most things in the universe” You chuckled. “That includes the names of the souls I reap, and you are hardly forgettable”

A familiar blush creeped on his cheeks as he cleared his throat. “And you think what I’m doing is good?”

“I don’t think so, I know so”

He looked down, letting yet another sigh. He took a moment to collect himself, then nodded slightly. His eyes met yours, a newfound determination in them. “I won’t hold you back anymore, I’m ready. Do your thing”

You smiled again. “I’ll see you again, Jason Todd” You reached for his chest, placing your palm flat on the bullet holes. “Just, not so soon, okay?”

“Wait, what does that mean?” He called as you backed up from him. His body moved itself to retake its position on the right plane of existence, staring at you expectantly. Your lips reached just a little higher, but you didn’t talk. Instead, you unfroze time and let yourself become invisible to the living again. 

A second later, you watched as Jason gasped, his eyelids no longer heavy but instead wide open his blue eyes looking around for something that wasn’t there. You didn’t stick around for too long however, going back to work. 

You have seen a lot of things. Reapers that ignored the natural balance, granting favors left and right to humans. Reality being bended at will, the balance being upset to the point of an almost reset. However, you knew the balance would be just fine this time. You were Death and Life, you had seen the world change and grow, and you believed it would be better off with Jason in it. 

--- 

It was a sunny day when you found yourself on the porch of a small house in a small town, and you would have been sure you had somehow made a mistake if it hadn’t been for the sense of familiarity that echoed through the call that bekonned you there. 

The wind was paused, but you could almost feel the breeze gently blowing through the trees, or the sun rays hitting your face. You looked at the house, then at the door and the knob. You went in. 

You navigated slowly through the hallways, observing the lively wallpaper and the pictures hanging on the walls. Smiles and love stared out the frames, giving it back to the world. It was peaceful there, which was a nice change of pace for once. You ended up at the end of the hallway, where you could see through the open door multiple people gathered around the bed, their eyes teary and sad, but not in pain. You found an open space on the bed and sat down, looking at the man laying down.

His face was wrinkled, the traces of old age fusioning with the faded scars in a portrait of his experiences and adventures. His greying hair was mostly hiding the silver streak on his forehead, but you could still see its contrast. His eyes were closed, and he looked peaceful. You gently put your hand on his cheek, waking him up for what you knew would truly be the last time. 

His blue eyes opened, and he smiled. 

“Hello, Jason” You could see the spark in his eyes, one that was the witness of a happier life. In that moment, you knew he had made the best of it. 

“My angel” His voice was a little bit frailer than last time, another sign of time making its mark on him. A warmth spread inside of you as you gently took his hand in yours. “I hope you don’t plan on sending me back out there”

You let out an airy laugh at his playful expression, shaking your head. “No, I can assure you this is the end of the road, for real this time”

“Good” He let out a content sigh. He wasn’t tense, there wasn’t an ounce of fear in his body. All you could feel radiating out of him was peace. “I’m tired. What a life it has been”

“A great one” You nodded. “I hope you’re proud of it”

“So you don’t regret sending me back into the world that night forty-five year ago?”

“Not for a moment” Your smile widened. “I believe it’s the best decision I’ve ever made”

He looked down, like he didn’t think himself worthy of this praise. You gave his hand a squeeze. 

“I’ve never thanked you” He began after a moment, and you tilted your head. “For helping me out the first time. And for letting me live the second time. You’re the reason I didn’t fear Death as much as I used to”

“I’m glad I could change your mind about me”  You chuckled quietly. The sun was hitting him in a perfect angle though the window, painting a golden halo around him. He said you looked like an angel, now he was one too. “And I’m glad this death seems better than the last one”

He let out a shaky breath, looking into every face around him for the last time. “It’s less traumatizing, that’s for sure”

“Are you ready?”

He nodded slowly before smiling at you. “I am”

“Close your eyes” You whispered, and he made himself comfortable in his bed before shutting his eyelids for the last time. He truly looked at peace.

Without moving, you restarted time to feel him let out his last breath. As his family noticed the new stillness of his body, you slipped away from the house without looking back. 

You have seen a lot of things.

People being born and dying, the rise and fall of empires, the best and the worst of humanity, sometimes co-existing side to side closer than they would even know.  You were Death and Life, you had seen the world change and grow.

Still, Jason Todd had been your favourite part of it.