#and granted a lot of that is visible in the upper face but at least a covid mask wouldve HALF covered it

[yardsards]

you never realize how many weird facial expressions you make til you find yourself without a mask in the grocery store

[the-s1lly-corner]

Flufftober prompt 7: one bed (sir pentious)

so so glad the person who supplied this prompt list gave some alt prompts because i could not think of anything for the sharing clothes prompt </3 prompt: You and Sir Pentious share a bed together after your bedroom was wrecked, along with a lot of the rest of the hotel... notes: reader is gn, crushing but nothing official relationship wise, no events based on whats happened in canon- think of it as canon divergent/an off screen moment where the hotel was attacked by some ticked off residents of hell, reader is a sinner word count: 2678 cws: none

It had been absolute chaos, you weren't even sure who was responsible for pissing so many people off... not that it seemed to matter, as the outcome left a huge chunk of the hotel ruined and in shambles on one side; demolishing a lot of the rooms on the upper floors. You winced as you looked at the damage, even from the ground you could tell your room didn't leave unscathed. Some of your belongings, left scattered and scorched, only cemented that idea. Your staring must have been obvious as a handful of some of the hotel residents came over. The first to speak was Charlie, who was already left a little wired from the attack.

"These aren't yours, are they?" She asked softly as she avoided stepping on anything that once belonged to you. The others that followed her weren't as mindful. Charlie worked her eyebrows together, working her hands together as she tried to think of something to say. "We'll get this fixed-" She whipped around, seeming to take a mental note of the extent of the damage done. Her face visibly fell for a second when her eyes scanned across the upper floors. "-You can sleep in one of the empty rooms-"

"If they're not destroyed." Vaggie mumbled, arms crossed over her chest. You wondered if she was already trying to figure out who's fault it was, who got who angry enough to come and attack. "We can fix it," Charlie reassured, putting a hand on her girlfriend's shoulder. "How long do you think it will take?" You finally spoke up. The actual suggestion of time seemed to take the princess off guard, but she quickly composed herself.

"Maybe..." She started before picking up a piece of burnt wood, then turned to Alastor. He had been able to summon souls to help fix the hotel before, but this was so much more than a blasted up wall. "At least a day or two, I'll go ask Alastor... maybe.." a pause. "you can stay in a spare room if it's not destroyed,"

"I can just stay somewhere else for a few nights, it's not that bad," You suggested, but Charlie quickly shut that down. "I don't like the idea of anyone going out for now... I mean," She gestured towards the damage, "If someone got mad enough to do this, I don't want to risk them grouping us all together... if just one of us caused problems..."

"Not that I would.. force you to stay..." She added under her breath.

"It's fine, really," You began but a third person spoke.

"They can have my room, I have somewhere else to stay" Sir Pentious offered.

A pause.

"Your ships been destroyed, where-" You started. It was true, granted it wasn't totally destroyed... it had taken a rather nasty hit during the attack. Pentious gently waved you off, "You won't need to worry about that!" He insisted, though by the look on his face it was most definitely something to worry about. However, by his tone he seemed set on letting you have his room.

"Pentious... are you sure?" Charlie asked, only for the sinner to nod. He adjusted his hat by the brim. "I'll get my belongings... in the meantime.." His eyes darted towards you. "Why don't you grab what can be salvaged... you may store it in my room for as long as you need," His eyes pulled themselves away from you the second he was done speaking. You chewed on your tongue for a moment before deciding to take him up on his offer. "Well if you insist," You shrugged before dragging your feet across the ground, picking up some of the burned things that were once in your room. Thankfully, nothing of value seemed to be lost... at least from what you could tell at the moment.

There wasn't a lot to salvage from what was left of your room. The wall was totally blown open and some of the things that didn't get blasted out were either destroyed from the damage or tosses all over the place. You gathered some clothing to move to your temporary room as well as some essentials and made your way to Pentious' room.

Now that the shock and adrenaline of everything was subsiding, the aches in your body made themselves known. You were relatively uninjured but that didn't change the fact that your body asked for you to lay down... you'd need to take a shower first, hopefully Pentious wouldn't mind you using his bathroom tonight.

Speaking of the sinner, you found him scrambling about his room trying to collect what he needed to move out for the night, his eggs scuttling across the floor around in him an attempt to help their creator. You knocked gently on the doorframe prompting the man to jump, his hood fanning out before relaxing down against his back when he realized it was just you. He scrambled to pick up what he had dropped and he offered you a half smile, face a little reddened from his surprise.

"Sorry about that," You smiled back and stepped out of the way so the egg boiz could pass through the door. You didn't pay much mind to what they said, most seemed to just be greeting you and chattering about the temporary move. "Did you find somewhere to stay?" You let the eggs pass by without much thought. Pentious seemed to wilt, but he didn't give you a chance to make a comment.

"It's all settled, there is no need for you to worry about me!" He said, firmly and almost like he felt proud of himself for stepping up to let you use his room. "Oh.." You said. The air was awkward, despite the snake trying to look as collected as possible. He was failing. Badly.

A pause, neither of you said anything for a few seconds.

"Is it fine if I use your shower? The one in my room is kind of..." You trailed off, closing your fist before opening it to mimic a boom. He took a moment, before nodding. "Of course!"

More silence.

"Alright..." You nodded, letting him pass to the door. "I'll give you some privacy," and he had slithered out abruptly, leaving you alone. You stood there for a moment before walking to the door, shutting and locking it.

The first half of the night was uneventful. You showered, winded down, and went to bed. You would have slept through the entire night if it weren't for a not too soft thud near the door of the bedroom. You pulled yourself into a sitting position and rubbed your eyes, allowing your eyes to adjust to the darkness. There was a scurrying noise coming from the door, and you weren't going to lie... in your half awake state it put you on edge. After a few seconds, you approached.

You paused for a moment, as the noise started to die down a little. Your hand rested on the knob, before pulling the door open. For a moment you didn't see anything in the dim light the hall's light showed, mostly due to the thing that made all the noise being on the floor. You nearly screamed, only barely containing it by slapping your hand on your mouth.

It seemed, Sir Pentious had not found somewhere else to stay. Or maybe this was what he meant when he said he'd sleep elsewhere. He too, seemed only half awake. You both stared at one another, you had just noticed his egg boiz huddling into his tail. If you weren't so tired you may have found the situation at least a little comical.

"Why," You started but your words seemed to snap Sir Pentious out of whatever grogginess he was stuck in. "My ship was far more destroyed than I first believed," He started, shutting you down as he went into explaining himself. The couch in the living room had been wrecked in the attack, and most of the spare rooms were either destroyed or locked. Sleeping on the floor seemed to be his best option.

You took a step forward, and looked up and down the hallway. Everything was quiet except for Pentious' rambling. Everyone else seemed to be asleep, save for the faint scuttling. Bugs, or Niffty. You weren't sure which one it was. Had she been here a second ago? You looked back down to Sir Pentious as he moved from defending himself to saying he won't be a bother to you, that he can move away from the door if you would like. It was pitiful to watch, actually, watching him coil in on himself to make himself smaller and hopefully less noticeable. You started to feel bad for him.

You cast a look over your shoulder to the round bed you had just been in. Considering only one person was in this room, unless you counted the eggs as people, it was rather large. More than enough room for you and the sinner to share with plenty of room to spare. Eyes darting back to Pentious, you broke up his talk.

"You're going to get sick if you sleep on the floor, or maybe wake up with a piece missing from you if Niffty catches you," You joked... though... Knowing her, she might actually try. "Why don't you come to bed? There's room, you know," You added after a moment. He stared at you, grabbing his hood and wringing his hands into it. "I appreciate the offer, but I don't want to intrude," He mumbled. "It's your bed, you should be allowed to sleep in it. We can put up pillows as a barrier if you're worried about space," You insisted.

He paused, looking you in the eye before pulling his stare away down to his eggs. "Alright..." and he started to slowly coax the eggs awake to make the move. You offered a small smile, before rushing back to the bed to move the spare bedding you had been given. There wasn't much to make a barrier, so you simply sacrificed one of the blankets you were given to make a line. "You can have this side," You offered as you crawled in. Not much was said as the sinner claimed the free space, letting his eggs curl back against his tail. They fell back to sleep fairly quickly.

Now that the two of you were in bed, the blanket barrier became laughable. It hardly did anything to divide your spaces, but that didn't seem to be much of an issue given that the snake man was keeping to himself and pressing against the raised sides of the bed. You felt rather silly for not noticing sooner, but you realized the bed resembled that of a nest.

You couldn't help but smile to yourself.

"It's a shame I can't take your bed with me when my room's fixed," You joked, turning your head to look at Pentious. He had turned his own head to look at you, eyes widened by his statement as he seemed to struggle to work his mouth. "You can have it-" He spewed out, before backtracking. "I mean... I can show... tell... you where Miss Charlie got it from, and.." He forced his mouth shut and paused. "I can help... put it together.. for you!" He added, ripping his words out of his throat. You blinked, taking a moment to think... your silence only seemed to make him more nervous.

"Or we can switch rooms if you prefer this one," He added, forcing himself to look up at the ceiling and away from you. "I was joking, Pen, you don't need to do any of that." You insisted. Quiet, followed by a soft "oh!" and forced laughter. "I knew that!" He very obviously lied.

You looked away from him and sat in silence. You bit your tongue, teasing him felt a little too mean, and besides you were tired.

"You could have just stayed here from the get go, you know, you didn't need to go. If you weren't already sure you had somewhere else to go I could have just went and looked... for a place.." You trailed off and thought. He had seemed too eager to offer up his room earlier, now that you were remembering the interaction. You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, he had been staring up until he noticed you give him a look. "Offering was the right thing to do,"

That's right. He's trying to be redeemed.

And for a moment you though he had done it for another reason.

You looked up at the ceiling, trying to make out the texture of it as you tried to think of something to say.

"Well, if you keep this up you're probably going to get to Heaven..." You started, then looked at him. You didn't take much time to think if it were even possible, but the way Charlie spoke about her cause... there had to be a shot, right? "Not to shade anyone else here, but I think you're probably way ahead, compared to all of us..." You added.

You turned yourself to rest on your side. "You do realize if you get redeemed, if someone can be redeemed, you're going to be alone up there without the rest of us you know?"

You couldn't stop the words before they came out. You never thought about that, the separation. By the look that spread across his face it became clear that he didn't think about that either. The look of surprise and realization quickly turned into one similar to sadness.

"I'll be sure to grab onto you before you ascend, you're not going to be getting rid of me that easily," You tried to lighten the mood, and your comment seemed to work just a little bit. "Will that not get us both in trouble?" He asked. You offered a shrug, "If so, maybe we'll get kicked out... doesn't mean we can't try again- they'll just have to let us in together eventually" You smirked. He offered one in return, though the worry didn't leave his eyes.

"I think..." He started, resting his hands across his torso as he stared back up at the ceiling. "Being with you... is heavenly enough."

Quiet.

"Because I enjoy your company, and-" He started, about to launch into another ramble, similar to the one he had in the hallway. He pressed himself harder against the sides of the bed, like he was looking for an escape. You couldn't help but smile over his words.

"I think you're pretty neat too, actually" You said bluntly, making the sinner freeze up. He seemed to relax just a tad, but he kept his eyes away from you.

"You think so?"

"Of course, lying is a sin isn't it? If we're getting out of here together I need to be honest," You turned yourself back onto your back, looking to where he had his eyes focused on the ceiling.

He remained quiet for a while, and opened his mouth as if he were about to speak. A few noises made themselves past his lips, before he closed his mouth again.

You didn't push him to say what he wanted, the exhaustion in your bones was beginning to become almost too much to bare. You had decided you'd both have more than enough time to talk when you'd wake up... it wasn't like he was going to ascend to Heaven the first thing in the morning... if simply disappearing into the air was how it worked... You imagined the sinner just rising into the air and you couldn't help but smirk a little bit... no that's not how it works... it couldn't be...

Unbeknownst to you, as you drifted off to sleep, the sinner was staring at you. The words he finally got to pull from his mouth were left unheard as the image of him hovering into the air faded from your mind's eye, sleep claiming you.

[whoredmode]

@sucksinlosers ok i’m actually gonna answer this one as its own post bc this might be something other people are wondering/it’s gonna be a longer explanation

i think one of the major things i wanna explore between them is just johnny trying to process his own feelings as he learns more about theirs. i think kinzie is visibly worried about this ordeal because not only are they difficult to track, but also because anteros is in danger. kinzie and johnny are two people who don’t like their actual feelings to be obvious on their faces, so they tend to put up exteriors. johnny has his “attack first, ask questions later” style of doing things, often not concerning himself with the details so long as he can immediately jump into action. he uses violence as a means to take his mind off things. kinzie, in contrast, puts up a cold front to anyone she meets. she likes to be five steps ahead of everyone, and she usually is, but she can still get rattled if someone’s able to get any sort of upper hand. she has issues making real connections with people, and when she finally does, she’s fiercely protective of it in her own way (see how she acts with viola, calling her a sister and all that).

so like you have two people who struggle with expressing their emotions in two very different ways. but now they’re forced into an even more similar situation: johnny knows better than anyone the fear, the pain, the grief that comes from someone you love being in danger. for a large part of their journey to the desert, they don’t even know if anteros is alive. johnny can put up his overconfident front, but he knows deep down he’s not certain. he’s not exactly good at comforting people, that’s why he tries to play the hero role for those he’s worried about.

so i want to explore how they deal with these feelings both individually and together. not to mention that after they get anteros back, johnny probably can’t help but feel a vague envy. he saved this relationship, but not his own? granted i do think he’s doing a lot better by this point in terms of mourning aisha, but still. grief doesn’t wait for you—it finds you when you least expect it.

[stressedoutcanary]

Do You Ever Feel Like A Misfit (Everything Inside You Is Dark & Twisted)

Dick Grayson x Reader

Word Count: 3.5K (I don't know how tf that happened)

Warnings: Explicit language, Blood and Violence, lots of angst, Hurt/Comfort ✌

A/N: Guess who's back! Just for some context the reader is a magic user and her style is similar to that of Zatanna <3

•°•°•°•°

She’d have reasoned with herself that stealing from one of the most secure and heavily guarded safe-houses of a deranged sociopath was probably not the brightest idea she’s had all day. It never even made it on her to-do-list for the weekend, but here she was, running across rooftops, holding on to the stolen totem like her life depended on it, it probably did. The three assassins sent after her were no Lady Shiva or Talia Al Ghul but they weren’t exactly amateurs either. The deep cuts and two broken ribs she got from their earlier encounter were proof of that.

She glanced back and even though there was no sign of her would-be-killers she knew better than to assume they’d just let her be. They were sticking to the shadows, exploiting her blind spots. The only thing she was sure of was that they were still hot on her trail and would happily plunge a dagger into her back given the opportunity.

She was right. As of this moment she hated being right.

She caught the glint of the two sharp objects slicing through the air, hurtling towards her at full speed. A slight shift of her upper body was all she could manage as one of the daggers got embedded right into her scapula while the other one, fortunately so, whirled past her, slightly grazing her left hip. The impact of the blade on her shoulder made her lose what little balance she had left. Despite her best efforts, when the wounded shoulder made contact with the hard concrete, a loud, ear-piercing cry ripped out from her throat before she could push it back down.

Cursing under her breath she knew, she knew all she had were those few seconds of numbness and disorientation to get a grip and figure out her exit strategy. However, all her hopes started to sink as she saw one of the assassins come closer, appearing more of a blur than a person. Then again that was probably because of the nice, little concussion she got from her fall. The assassin walked over to her, unsheathed their sword and placed it right on her neck, blocking any and every way out.

“You were warned. The Demon’s Head does not tolerate treachery. We are here under his orders to bring back the totem along with the witch’s head; your head”

If she could, she would’ve rolled her eyes at the classic villainous dialogues thrown at her.

“Witch? Who’re you calling a witch Snow White? I’m clearly a sorceress, don’t they teach you the difference between the two in assassin school or something? Hell, I’d even let you call me an enchantress, though that name’s already been taken but you get my poin-” 

The remaining words died in her throat as the sword on her neck shifted slightly. She knew she had extremely poor self preservation skills considering she’s clearly been instigating the very person sent to kill her, but even she wasn’t dumb enough to keep talking when the tiniest movement on either part could result in her having a severed jugular or carotid. 

‘This is a pretty shitty way to die’ 

She thought back to how she used the last of her mystic energy to hide the totem away before her fall and how stupid that decision really was because now she could actually feel the agonizing pain coming from her shoulder. It started to spread throughout her back like wildfire, eyelids grew heavy against her wishes. Suddenly she felt really tired and the idea to close her eyes just felt so goddamn appealing. 

‘No (Y/N) that’s the blood loss talking. Blood loss doesn’t get to make decisions’, she mentally scolded herself, still not breaking her eye contact with the person standing above her.

“Give us what you stole and we shall grant you the mercy of a quick death.”

That made her raise an eyebrow, “Ah, lemme think...the correct response here would be…”, she hummed, making a show of how hard she was thinking about the offer she was granted, “How about a fuck you? How would that do for you?”, she gave them a vicious grin, it was all teeth.  They probably weren’t impressed by her response and it showed.

She knew there was no way out but she had promised herself once that if she were to die, that if she ever goes out, she’d be anything but a whimpering and sobbing mess. She was scared shitless, more so than she’d ever been while fending off the league, she won’t deny that but she would rather die than let them know that.  ‘Well at least I got that ‘rather die’ part down to a T.’ she thought, eyeing the sharpness of the blade which was now raised up in the air

She felt bad for just giving up the way she did. Her whole life she was told to fight her way through the impossible, to attain the strength rivaling that of Zatanna Zatara, John Constantine and Doctor Fate himself. To be better than them, and there she was lying on the ground limp as a sword came down on her throat; all for a silly necklace. She would’ve huffed out a laugh if only her ribs weren’t broken, if only her body wasn’t screaming in pain, if only she had a way out. She didn’t. She was too tired, too drained, too numb to do anything else. Closing her eyes she stopped fighting, she let her growing unconsciousness claim her.

‘This is what you deserve anyway’, her barely there conscience remarked.

‘Fuck you too.’ she replied.

Everything went pitch black. The darkness encompassing her was peaceful, unlike the pain she had felt before. It was nice for a change. It sounded pathetic  but she couldn’t bring herself to care.

•°•°

 When she came to, the first thing she observed was the feeling of something soft against her back, next was a dull rhythmic sound which she realized was her own heartbeat. Though opening her eyes was a tiring task. It shouldn’t have been, but it was. She used all the energy she had into it and her eyelids fluttered open. She stared at the white ceiling and stayed like that for a few seconds; a few minutes? She couldn’t tell, but the pain was back now, not too much but enough to tell her it was there, to tell she was still alive.

She saw something shift in her peripheral vision and her body instinctively went stiff. Her mind which was blank before now ran in all directions.

‘Could be Ra’s Al Ghul… Could be worse’, she tried not to think about the worst case scenario, but she knew she had pissed off a lot of beings, beings far more powerful and far crueler than Ra’s himself. An involuntary shudder passed through her at the thought. That must’ve caught her captor’s attention as she felt the person move closer to her. Begrudgingly, she tore her gaze from the spot on the ceiling which she had been staring at this whole time and tilted her head. The man in black and blue who appeared, was probably the last person she had expected to see.

“Nightwing…”

Her voice was barely above a whisper and the hoarseness with which it came out it took her by surprise, but her body visibly relaxed at the sight of the familiar figure, at the sight of someone who would never hurt her.  

She watched him pull out a chair from the desk nearby. He sat next to the bed she was lying on and gave her a soft smile, a smile that spelled one word ‘relieve’. She remembered how when she first met him two years ago, she found that particular smile extremely annoying, she had no reason to, but she did. What she couldn’t remember was when she had grown so fond of it.

“How do you feel?”

“Like shit.”

He snorted a laugh which made her pout. She was planning to point out how he was being mean; laughing at her when her response truly defined the way she was feeling, but any words she thought of were cut off by the change in his expression. His smile faltered, lips were now pressed in a thin line, face contorted in a way which showed his genuine concern.

“This is the second time, this week.”

That you almost died, he didn’t say. That I had to save you and bring you back from the clutches of death, he didn’t say.

“I know.”

“That doesn’t make it better.”

“I know.”

The silence that settled, stretched far too long for comfort, but she wasn’t going to be the one to break it. She wanted to, but there was nothing she could say, that would make it better. Nightwing ran his fingers through the locks of hair, burying his face in his hands.

For the first time since she woke up, she took in his appearance, he looked disheveled,  his suit was torn in different places along visible faint cuts, most likely he got them when he rescued her. She felt a pang of guilt rising in her chest. He risked his life for her, she knew he had done it before, she didn’t get it then and she didn’t get it now. Why would someone do that? Why would he? She was pulled back from her spiraling thoughts when he spoke again, exhaustion evident in his voice.

“Why are you so reckless?”

“Excuse me?”

She looked at him like he had grown another head. She wasn’t ready for this conversation but by the looks of it they were gonna have it anyway.

“What if I hadn’t been there today? Or any of the other days you almost died. What then?”

“My best guess? I would’ve been dead.”

“And that fact doesn’t bother you at all?!”

She flinched at little when his voice rose, but she stood her ground, at least figuratively since she was still in bed.

“I don’t know, should it?” She didn’t try and tone down the venom dripping from her words. Her words cut deeper than the wounds he got from the assassins; she saw it clear as day on his face. She let out a deep sigh but continued. She had to get it out and he had to hear it, that’s the reason she gave herself for the confession that followed.

“I don’t need your help, Dick. I don’t know what gave you the impression that I did but I’ve never needed it.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. ‘Why was it getting harder to speak?’ “I don’t need you to save me every time. I don’t need you to risk your life for me and I definitely don’t…” She moved to sit up straight, her back resting on the headboard. She shifted her gaze on her open palms resting in her lap; palms covered in blood, in her blood, not very long ago.

“I don’t need you to care...”

The last part was a whisper and Dick was silent, so silent that for a brief moment she wondered if the man she’d come to care about even heard her, admitting something that was so painful for her to say out loud.

Dick moved to sit beside her, his shoulder bumping hers. He didn’t know where all this was coming from but he knew better to leave it unattended.

“(Y/N) I help you because I care about you. I always will, you know that.”

“Why? You have nothing to gain from it”, blinking back the unshed tears in her eyes, she looked at him with a hurt expression as if she couldn’t bring herself to understand.

“Why… as in why do I care?”, Dick tilted his head to look her in the eyes, trying to understand what she meant all the while making sure not to let his own surprise at her words show. She nodded not trusting her voice to not betray her anymore than it already had.

“I don’t care about you because I feel like you need it nor because I would gain something from it”, Dick knew he shouldn’t have to explain it to her. He briefly wondered what she had gone through to make her think that she needed to be useful to be cared for or that she had to need it to be cared for. He felt something pull at his heart at the thought; It was sorrow.

“I care about you because… well I do and there’s nothing you could or couldn’t do to change that. And it is because I care about you that I ask you to be better at taking care of yourself. Now I know for a fact that whatever you stole from The League’s safehouse definitely did not belong there, but I also know that whatever it was, it wasn’t worth your life (Y/N) It never will be.”

Dick grasped one of her hands, interlacing his gloved fingers with hers; she hadn’t even realized she was shaking until he did so. Closing her eyes, she forced herself to take a deep breath despite her protesting ribs. Opening the palm of her free hand she muttered an incantation with practiced ease

“Eveirter tahw saw neddih “, her hand glowed, the golden aura taking the shape of a object. When the light subsided, Dick saw the object in her palm as she rubbed her thumb across it, quietly leaning her head on his shoulder.

“It was this totem. It belongs to Madame Xanadu. Don’t know what Ra’s wanted it for though”, she shrugged as best as she could with an injured shoulder then continued, voice firmer than it had been the whole evening,“ She asked me to retrieve it in exchange for information on a girl I was looking for. The girl was somehow sucked into some other dimension, a mystic one and her mother was so desperate when she approached me that I just couldn’t say no. So when I say the Totem was important, then I want you to know that it really is.”

Dick shook his head at that. “Still not worth your life.”

“Dick…”, she sighed. It was all she could do at the moment because she was really getting tired from all the arguing.

“Do you remember the first time we met?”

“You mean the time I met the infamous vigilante Nightwing in a dumpster of all places.”

“In my defense I was badly injured”, she hummed in agreement.

“You smelled bad”

“You try smelling like flowers after falling from a building and into an open dumpster.”

His playful grumbling pulled a short laugh out of her. She was more than a little confused at the sudden trip into the past but happily accepted it as a change of topic. She should’ve know better than to think he’d have let the matter go.

“Anyway my point is when you saw me that day, you first instinct was to help me. You pulled me out and used your magic to heal my wounds. You didn’t have to. You could’ve dropped me at a hospital. You could’ve even walked away and pretended that you never saw me, but you didn’t. Why is that?”

“Because I thought you were handsome?”, she said trying to lighten this too-heavy-for-comfort conversation he was trying to have.

“Nice try. I know you. You saved me because you cared. You helped me and the Titans save the city more than once because you cared. It is who you are. I’ve seen you care about and worry over complete strangers without conditions. So why do you think that there has to be some kind of a barter system when it comes to you? Why think that I would want to gain something if I cared about you?”

“Because everyone else did.”

The words shot out from her mouth quicker than she realized. She had voiced her greatest insecurity to the one person who never had anything to add to it and Dick’s heart clenched at the implications of her words, ‘She has never been loved unconditionally before’ his brain provided.

The tears she blinked back earlier came back with full force. She felt two strong arms that wrapped around her, all the while being mindful of her injuries. Dick pulled her into a hug and that was it. She couldn’t control the sobs that tore through her throat, the pain in her body flared due her erratic movements. She knew once the tears started flowing they wouldn’t stop at least not for a while, but now that her façade had been broken she couldn’t bring herself to give it another thought.

He waited for her to let it out, let out all the pent up emotions she had. Now that he thought about it he had never seen her cry. He never questioned it, maybe he should’ve.

“I don’t know who’s responsible for hurting you (Y/N), God, how much I wish I did”, his arms slightly tighten around her at that. “I am so sorry that you have felt like you have to have your walls up all the time, even around me and I should’ve seen that, I should’ve realized that before but I didn’t and I am so sorry for that. I can’t undo the damage you’ve endured and I will not pretend that I can. What I can do is promise you that I’d never let you down like that, never.”

The words he spoke were clear. He didn’t try to tell her to put her walls down, to trust him when she had no reason to. He also didn’t need to justify himself or make such over the top promises but it felt nice to hear it. She had already stopped crying the moment he started speaking again but she still had her forehead pressed against his chest, listening to his heartbeat, it was calming in a way she couldn’t describe. She pulled her head back to look at him, and the honesty in his voice earlier matched the one in his eyes.

“Okay”

Hearing her response, he gave her his signature grin. It sent unexpected warmth through her, he always had that effect on her. She was sure she was just blushing at this point and was suddenly thankful for the dim lighting in the room. 

She ended up composing herself rather quickly, jabbing a finger at his armored chest with her usual smirk plastered on her face.

“Now that you’ve made that promise, know this, Dick Grayson, if you let me down I will drop a mountain on you.”

“You mean that figuratively?”

“No I mean that geologically”, he waited for her to say she was kidding. She didn’t.

“Alright, alright”, He held his hands out in mock surrender. After considering the look in her eyes, Dick refrained from questioning the feasibility of that action nor did he want to question her magical abilities or intent. Last he remembered, Wally did that and that conversation ended with him being teleported to Sahara and Dick would very much like to avoid the same fate as his best friend.

Deciding that was more than enough exhaustion for one night, he got up from the bed and kissed her goodnight, informing her that he’d be sleeping on the couch so that he wouldn’t accidently hit her injuries in his sleep. She agreed and watched him slip out of the room before falling into the blissful sleep she had been putting off since forever.

•°•°

She knew Dick Grayson was full of surprises but the next morning when he put forward the offer of become a full time Titan, in front of her, she wondered if she fell from the bed in her sleep and ended up  getting another concussion because he was so not making any sense.

“So let me get this straight, you want me to come live with you and your superhero friends, in the Titans freaking Tower?!”

“I was hoping for a little less yelling after an emotional evening but yes that is exactly what I’m asking.”

“Dick that’s just ridiculous!”

“Look, you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

He looked like a kicked puppy which made her feel kinda guilty for all the yelling.

“It’s not that…It’s just there is still a lot about me I haven’t told them. There is still a lot I haven’t told you. I don’t see a reason why you all would want to trust a possible threat, let alone live with it”, she gestured to herself.

Dick felt like there was a deeper meaning behind her words, as if she was voicing her own fear rather than theirs but he trusted her enough to tell him about it when she was ready, on her own terms. He could wait till then but for now he crossed the short distance between them, going around the breakfast table till he stood in front of her. He grasped both of her hands in his and ran his thumb soothingly across her knuckles. He bent down to place a soft kiss on her forehead, and then moved to meet her gaze.

“(Y/N), I know you and I trust you and…It sounds silly considering I was raised by the worlds greatest detective but I believe that you don’t have to know every little detail about someone as long as you already know what’s in their heart.” Bruce probably would’ve disagreed but he wasn’t Bruce.

“And you know what’s in mine?”

“And I know what’s in yours.” His statement was firm and left no room for argument, not when it came to this.

“If you’re sure about this, then I guess...”

“Is that a yes I’m hearing?”, There was that smile again, seriously what was up with him and his smile that made her giddy inside.

In between thoughts she realized he was still waiting for a response so she nodded. Any underlying doubts she had about her answer vanished when she took in how happy it made him. As cheesy as it sounded seeing him happy made her happy. A part of her said it wouldn’t last long, but seeing her boyfriend hop onto the couch full of joy as he called his friends about the latest development in their lives, she wanted to believe otherwise.    

°•°•°•°•

[micha-writes]

Day 5: Found Family / Fun @spnprideweek (AO3 Link)

Left Foot, Red

“Left food, red,” Eileen’s voice called out.

On command, there was rustling heard throughout the bunker, accompanied by some agonized moans.

“Dean,” Claire panted. She was looking at him through the gap in-between both her arms. Her hair was wildly dangling down like a curtain in front of her face, and a few strands were caged below her hand on the twister mat. There was a leg blocking part of her view at Dean – either Cas’s or Sam’s, she couldn’t tell for sure with all of them being tied up in one big knot. “Left foot red. I saw very well you didn’t move”

Dean ducked his head under the leg – It probably was Sam’s, Claire now thought – and replied in an almost desperate-sounding voice.

“How the fuck am I supposed to- Did you see the gymnastics I’m doing here? It’s literally impossible-“

“Left foot red, Dean,” Kaia commented from the side. She was comfortably slouching on a pillow on the ground, right next to spin master Eileen who had little Jack on her lap and the spinner in her hand. “You don’t get a pass just because you’re old”

There was a little wheeze heard from the back, presumably coming from Sam. Claire couldn’t tell that for sure though, since neither Sam’s nor Cas’s face were currently visible to her. Meanwhile, Dean tried to turn his face to Kaia, but failed. His own arm got in the way.

“As someone who got eliminated ten minutes ago, you got no say,” he groused.

“I only fell over because Sam pushed me,” Kaia protested. “Otherwise, I could’ve easily beaten you. Since my back doesn’t crack with every change of position”

“I didn’t push anyone,” Sam threw in his objection from somewhere in the back of the knot.

“You did,” Kaia said.

“Can’t prove that,” Sam muttered, more to himself than to anyone else.

“My back does not crack,” Dean protested.

“It does,” Claire commented.

“Lies,” Dean mumbled.

“It did crack on yellow last round for sure,” Cas now entered the debate, his head hidden somewhere behind Dean’s upper body. “Now would you please move your left foot to red, because this is becoming extremely uncomfortable on my part”

Dean rolled his eyes, probably invisible for everyone except Claire, but gave in.

“Fine,” he sighed, “But I’m telling y’all, if I’m pulling a muscle-“

“Please just move,” Sam panted, and Dean did. Accompanied by dramatic moans, he moved his left foot over to the one free red circle in his reach. While doing so, he bumped into Cas with his hip and kicked against Sam’s leg, earning him loud protest from both men.

Finally, after lots of moans, “ah”s and “that was my hand/foot/finger!”s, they were all back in stable positions, all four situated somewhere on the twister mat, and Eileen spun the little arrow again.

“Right hand, yellow,” she announced, earning a frustrated groan in unison from all four participants.

Rustling followed as they meandered around each other, trying to change into at least somewhat comfortable positions.

“Could you take your butt out of my face?” Cas’s voice complained from somewhere in the middle of the knot, hidden from Claire by a bunch of body parts belonging to both Winchester brothers.

“Never was a problem before,” Dean grunted, but granted the wish and moved slightly to the side.

“GROSS,” Claire commented.

Suddenly, there was the tapping of small feet heard, moving towards the twister mat and the human knot that was intertwined on top of it.

“Oh no,” someone muttered somewhere inside the knot, and that was the last comment right before disaster. A small body got on all four and crawled into the knot, started out below Sam’s right leg and continued his journey further through the maze of arms and legs.

Jack’s little face appeared right in front of Claire with a proud grin on it.

“Hi Claire!” he said and reached for her arm, in order to support him while standing up.

Jack pulled at Claire’s body, and within only a fraction of a second, the complicated construction of bodies collapsed like a house of cards.

The next thing Claire knew, she was lying on her back on the twister mat, Dean, Sam and Cas around her, legs and arms still intertwined. Only little Jack was standing in the middle of it all, looking down on them with a smile on his face.

“Jack won?” he asked, causing the entire human knot on the ground to chuckle.

“Jack won!” Eileen declared from the side.

[thetravelerwrites]

This Is Not My Face

This will be a deeply personal essay about body dysmorphia, so please feel free to move on if that’s not your bag. (Trigger warning for burns, surgeries, hospitals, and medical procedures.)

Most of you are already aware of this, but for those who aren’t, I am a burn survivor:

On October 14th, 1986, I survived a gas explosion when I was two years old and spent an additional two years in a burn ward. I had burns on over 90% of my body, 40% of which were second and third degree. I have had around 85 surgeries and well over 1000 individual procedures to correct the damage, allow me to move freely, and reconstruct my airway so that I could breathe unassisted.

It’s been over 30 years since then, and I’ve had plenty of time to come to terms with existing as a disabled person with visible scars. However, there’s one part of my body that I cannot accept or be okay with: the lower half of my face directly under my nose. I could never understand why I despise it so much, since I have no problem with any other scars or aspects of my body.

(More under the cut.)

I mean, I don’t enjoy being overweight, but I don’t viscerally hate that aspect of myself. I’m actually pretty okay with all of the scars I have everywhere else on my body. Some of them I actually think are pretty cool. My voice bothers me, but not to the point that I can’t stand the sound of it. I’m not a fan of how my right eye droops, but it ain’t no big thing.

But I hate, I absolutely loathe, the lower half of my face. Now that I’m in therapy, taking the appropriate medications, and can actually sit down and objectively analyze my behaviors and emotions from new perspectives, I finally figured out why I hate it so much: this is not my face.

I know that sounds crazy, but it’s not. I recognize the upper half of my face. My eyes are my mom’s, my eyebrows are my dad’s, my brothers have the same  nose, and my sister and I have the same cheekbones and big ass forehead. But the lower half... it looks plastic and artificial to me. It’s like a mask that I can’t remove. I have the overwhelming feeling whenever I see it that it just shouldn’t be there. I would actually feel more comfortable if there was nothing there at all.

I hate looking at it in the mirror, it makes me physically ill to look at it. It always has. Makeup doesn’t help; it’s just like I’m putting coat of spray paint on a crumbling sheet rock. It’s incredibly hard to see myself as “pretty” because half of my face doesn’t belong to me. It’s not me. And it’s hard to explain it to other people without them defaulting to, “But you’re beautiful the way you are!”

Like... I appreciate the sentiment, but you don’t understand. This is not my face.

I will never be able to see myself as pretty, because this isn’t my face. In my mentally ill mind, what the person is complimenting is not me; they’re complimenting something that’s not real. Something artificial. They’re commenting on a mask I’m wearing that I can’t take off, so it’s not something I’ll ever be able to accept for myself.

Is it based in trauma? Almost certainly. Do I hate it? 100%. Can I do anything about it? Not in the least. I hate the fact that I can’t fix it. I’ve had plenty of facial surgeries, and it hasn’t fixed the problem yet. Granted, trying to correct damaged tissue is a whole lot different than altering healthy tissue, so fixing it is probably never going to be an option, and that’s just something I have to learn to be okay with.

Dysmorphia is such a common mental illness that doesn’t even require a professional diagnosis, but it’s very hard to treat because it’s tied to not only body image, but also recurring anxiety and depression. People who have body dysmorphia will likely have other body image disorders, most commonly eating disorders or skin-picking disorders, as well as food and/or surgery addictions. They will statistically always struggle with self-esteem, self-worth, and depression.

I’m struggling to come to terms with how this revelation will affect my future and recovery. I don’t know how to integrate this new issue into my current treatment, but it’s something I’ll have to bring up in my next session.

Thanks for reading.

[hickeys-dickey]

Pls share your thoughts about the gays in THAT scene… I would love to read them!

Ahh you are too kind, I am but a little swiss cheese brain but I'll try my best to sum up my thoughts, I have too many! I wanted a chance to grab some screenshots too! I'm going to put a read more because this is a long one buckle up lads.

So obviously the whole punishment for Hickey is designed to humiliate him (I would imagine this is one of the reasons his punishment isn't explained to him, because if Hickey truly was a naval petty officer he would know, and I think it's another way for Crozier to essentially say "I see you" and not in a good way). The fact we're not shown the other whippings shows the importance lies in the scene with Hickey.

I've seen a bit of discussion about his charge of "dirtiness", which isn't listed initially when we see him being questioned by the Captains, and whether or not it alludes to homosexuality but on a quick cursory search it does seem to have been used as a euphemism where an outright accusation of sodomy would mean a death sentence. The way Crozier throws it out there, no doubt to heap the humiliation onto Hickey and add crimes to the list to cover the fact he added lashes on to the punishment essentially for a bruised ego (but that's another matter), suggests a whole lot of venom to the accusation. Hickey's pointed look at Irving and Irving's quick shift of his gaze down suggests they both know exactly why Crozier has listed this among Hickey's list of crimes, and Hickey looks furious for it.

But I think this is also ultimately where the panic begins to set in. Again, there are far greater minds than me who have made excellent posts about queer coded characters in the terror, and I think it's no surprise that most of them are the faces that are focused on in this scence. It is clear long before this moment that Crozier's leadership is lacking, and people have already begun to voice concerns fairly loudly. Tozer for one is livid in the wake of Heather being injured, and the marines have clearly started distancing themselves from both the officers and the men. I feel like this scene, for a lot of characters is a point of major shift in either allegiences or character.

Tozer and the Captains are the first faces that are panned to in this scene and I think the expressions speak for themselves.

Tozer is visibly upset/concerned after the first lash. I do think guilt probably has a part to play, in that is was him whole told Hickey where Silna was, and presumably approved enough of the plan to not rat him out to anyone. Again, very probably part of Tozer's anger at Heather being injured due to what he sees is Crozier's poor management. Fitzjames is stoney faced, but is also the only one looking. As a man who many have noted pushes himself to pick emotional scabs, I think it would make sense for someone who is also notably queer coded and stuggles with trauma to make himself look directly at someone being whipped for a crime he himself might commit. Crozier isn't even looking, whether out of suddenly doubting his harshness or simply triggering something in his own memory it's not clear. I think the end of this shot also speaks for itself.

(Fig 1. Three Concerned (very likely not straight) men contemplate)

The lads at the back behind Mr. Johnson are all looking Directly At the whipping as it is taking place. Interestingly none of the men at the front near the table are looking. This is the stewards, officers, and marines. Whether out of respect or also Concern at their own skins (I think every one of these characters has been addressed as being queer coded at some point, minus the marines who are all, except Tozer, fairly nameless characters).

I'm not a gifmaker which is unfortunate for this section, though this is what is gifed in the beautiful gifset by sashneeka I reblogged (x). Tommy is also visibly upset, whether because he knows Tozer was involved in the plot to kidnap Silna and is concerned for him and any of the rest of the crew who had assisted in someway or voiced support. Billy interestingly does look briefly, and sets his jaw after in a way that suggests he's trying to fight the guilt of being the one to tell Irving about the whole affair with Hickey to paint himself in a better light. It could just as easily be Billy there on that table being lashed, but he somehow rationalises it in his head (probably because Hickey is a little bastard) that he was right in what he did. He does look down fairly guiltily after this, so maybe he hasn't quite settled on an opinion. Jopson also looks incredibly concerned/unsettled, and interestingly looks at Hickey right up until the whip hits where he flinches, and not for the only time in this scene. From what we know about Jopson's past, though not at this point, it may well be he is remembering similar punishment/mistreatment and like Fitzjames looks enough to pick the scab open and flinch from his own trauma.

The closeup of Hickey shows the full extent of his rage and humiliation building, and as I think Adam himself said, they whipped something out of Hickey that day and let him reach this potential that lay inside him (to become an even bigger bastard). He's fully severed all ties and feelings of loyalty after this and it becomes full on train to manipulation station from this point. I have a lot of Thoughts about Hickey also (which I am sure you are all aware of) but I think there was some semblance of Hickey attempting to start afresh on this journey, or at the very least keep his head down and go unnoticed. The trouble is, he notices Crozier as a flawed man, and one not from the upper classes like himself, and his ego can't help but think we're not so different, that could be me with the right connections. Well surprise lads, its murder time now and he's gonna make this old man pay for not recognising initiative but punishing it. I do wonder if Crozier wasn't booze sick and rattled from losing even more men under his command, would he not have come down so harshly for someone clearly defying the Articles to do what he thinks is right and save the men (a la Crozier and his fuck you I'm directly contradicting an order and leading this rescue party myself).

Tozer gets another wee closeup here and again looks like he has resolved something in his head too. Most likely that he thinks Crozier an unfit leader, and admiring Hickey for having the balls to do what he did (Hickey also never reveals anyone else who came with him, and when he talks about Hartnell and Mason's part in taking Silna it highlights their skill and bravery and (he thinks) commends them to the Captain. It's probably the only time we see him building up and applauding others). He looks dead ahead here and seems to have a very steely gaze, like yep fuck it looks like I'm going it alone now. It is interesting that Tozer goes from this to notably disliking Hickey (both at the start and when they are packing up - "you've just given me an excuse to give a big shove". This might be anger at Hickey having caused all the issues with Silna after the fact when Heather gets killed at Carnivale), but still follows him in the end. Hickey has the ability to kill, manipulate, steal, basically do whatever needed for their group to get ahead, which means Tozer can be part of the group and not have to dirty his own hands. I think Tozer probably has a complicated relationship with Hickey, but he does fall for the charm hook, line, and sinker, and the fact he seems concerned for him here suggests how easily he is sympathetic to those he sees as being wronged.

Gibby getting Hickey's blood on his hand (ayy) seems to visibly make him blanch, and I do find it interesting that the shot then pans to Tommy as though they are looking at each other when they are stood side by side. The similarities between them maybe? (I've seen and reblogged a lot of discourse about Tommy loving Tozer, maybe another nod to no one being so different to the man on the table?) Irving doesn't get much of a close up in the rest of this scene but bless him he looks equal parts terrified and guilty (another man who has been noted as having a list of many things to distract from the Gay Thoughts like why do you need to distract from Gay Thoughts Irving?). He also has the Far Off Look of trauma about him, probably because he too could just as easily be on that table.

I have many many thoughts about the way Hickey turns to look (and fucking smile???) at Crozier next, which is when Crozier is looking directly at him and Fitzjames looks at him. Like if I were Crozier I think my fucking blood would chill, look at this man. Being humiliated and lashed still hasn't broken him, if anything he has just become fully unhinged and looks at Crozier as though to say "did you really think this would work?". I would also say, this man has fairly quite for someone who is at this stage something like 22 lashes in? Like what the actual fuck Hickey?? I fully belive Hickey to be a psycopath, and most of what he does in the beginning of the series is an attempt to stay hidden until they get to Hawaii and he can ditch the crew, but I think it is fairly safe to say he isn't hiding it any more.

And he knows this is going to make the men doubt Crozier - I can't do a proper search because I am using my work laptop atm, but I seem to remember reading that a punishment greater than 12 lashes required a court martial (probably why Little steps in to say so when Crozier orders his punishment as well as them technically being lost at sea), which would be another strike against him as a Captain. Not only that, but Crozier does seem to grant him some mercy in letting him only be lashed I think 23 or so times? Probably because the tension is fucking palpable in this whole scene and Crozier can either choose to claw back some sense of control on the matter, or deal with the consequences of many people admiring Hickey for what he has done for the crew and start a mutiny. I think this is the first time Fitzjames sees the damage Crozier is doing to himself with his choices as Captain, and is probably just as concerned at the look Hickey is giving him. He knows this has unleashed something in this tiny rat bastard too, and that he will become the physical manifestation of Crozier's self-destructive tendancies. Crozier perpetually comes to everything just a fraction too late to change anything - he never saves any of the men, only comforts them as they die, and a lot of this has to do with his own ego and bad decision making, and I think this is the first example here of the fact his actions are having an effect on others to the point it will be his downfall.

Anyway, to round it off, I think this scene really epitomises the notion that Hickey is a mirror to the rest of the men, and they see their flaws in him. Those who have questioned Crozier's captaincy look concernced knowing they too could be being lashed. They too would have tried to get Silna to stop the Tuunbaq hunting them. Those who are queer or queer coded know they too could be being lashed for it. Crozier himself sees his unwillingness to follow the Articles in him, sees his own insubordination, and feels what Sir John meant when he said his position afforded him deference. Hickey may as well be a metaphor for all the men being lashed, theres not one among them who haven't voiced wanting to do what he has done. Let them without sin and all that. This is make or break for who holds loyalty to the Captain, and the turning point for who is going where. I think everyone except Jopson, Irving and Fitzjames ends up in the mutineers camp, and Irving ends up killed and mutilated by Hickey and Fitzjames is scavanged by them. Theres not one of them that isn't haunted by what happened in this scene, and Hickey would end up being the death of every single one of them. The only one who remains loyal after this is Jopson, who thinks his care and duty to the Captain can outweigh his other sins. Fitzjames and Crozier have a stronger relationship once he recovers from his withdrawal, yes, but Fitzjames also keeps him in check now (I'm thinking of Edward Little being threatened with flogging again because of course I am), and it is another step too late for Crozier's self-destruction. I've seen a Hickey/Fitzjames Christ analogy on here before too, so I hope you'll forgive me in comparing them, but Hickey in this scene really does get punished for everyone else's crimes in this scene, and becomes a sort of Christ-like figure, reborn as a complete version of the worst of himself from the pain of being lashed. They whipped something out of him!! Anyway, that about sums it up!

[nervousladytraveler]

The Alibi: Chapter 2

A continuation of the the wee fic inspired by the kiss prompt: A + B are in an argument, then they stop, just stare at each other, and then crash their lips together, because, like i said... fuck this shit Ross and Demelza (Requested by the lovely @veryflowerobservation)

______

Ross woke just a little after 9AM. He’d pulled the thick curtains the night before--it had been dark then so the gesture had been solely for privacy. The morning light was largely blocked, save one stubborn sliver that succeeded in illuminating a patch of carpet in front of the bed.

He looked over at the sleeping woman beside him. Demelza faced the wall and had failed at fully covering her body with the hotel bed sheets, and as a result her glorious back and the very top of her bum remained exposed. She might have been turned away from him but that didn’t mean she had given up on him. He knew he could sidle over and press himself close to her, and that she’d receive him warmly, eagerly. She’d made her feelings quite clear.

It had been a complicated night--and yet so easy. To finally be with her after so many years of constant companionship. Yes, they’d had years of steady loyalty to one another but he could see now that their friendship the last few months had been fraught with unresolved tension, overpowering attraction, and something deeper still. It hadn’t been one sided, only he’d somehow been blind to it all until the truth hit him like a cricket bat to the head as she yelled at him in the dark car park. Then he’d kissed her and it was as if he’d always known.

And as they lay together, in between feverish bouts of love making, they tried to make sense of what had just happened. They didn’t talk about the near-miss with the cops or Trencrom’s betrayal, just the sudden, seismic shift that occurred between them. And what it meant.

He was glad that she’d been able to say what he too felt, since he’d never be articulate enough to find the words or have the presence of mind to speak them.

She knows what I’m thinking before I even speak. No wonder she saved my neck last night, he thought to himself with a soft laugh. Yet somehow he knew not to take that for granted. She was her own person and he’d have to work harder to demonstrate his respect for her. No, respect sounded such a cold and clinical word and hardly sufficient. He revered her, he admired her, he was captivated by her, he desired her…

His thoughts never reached their logical conclusion of what all those separate emotions added up to because she exhaled a long sigh and he could resist touching her no more. He ran the backs of his fingers down her spine, then along the gentle curve of her hip, and up to her breast.

She turned to him with a smile, her eyes struggling to open.

“You tryin’ to wake me, Ross?” she asked. Her voice was sleepy, raspy in an innocently sexy sort of way.

He pulled her closer at once and kissed her eyelids, in a tender attempt to keep them closed. He felt a strange sensation in his stomach, not just butterflies but a whole swarm of wings fluttering up, perhaps to carry off his heart. His hands gripped her upper arms--the same arms that seemed destined to deck him yesterday seemed warm and reassuring now.

“No, stay asleep. It was an exhausting night--you earned a lie-in.” He kissed her lips now. Her eyes remained closed but her mouth opened wide to receive him.

How could he have ever considered himself alive before he knew that kiss?

He realised he’d sighed like a love-drunk school boy but he had no shame.

“Yes, it was exhaustin’,” she laughed, “but are you referrin’ to the events before or after we went to bed?” She put her hand to his rough cheek.

He laughed too, as though he’d caught the urge from her, like a yawn or a sneeze.

Ross had no business being so happy. His world was crumbling around him--he’d most likely lose his business and the police’s interest in him had not yet been resolved. And yet...

Yet those things mattered little. Was that really what his world consisted of? Because being with Demelza, loving her and being loved, that seemed a most significant triumph.

“Demelza, I meant everything I said last night.” He’d grown serious again.

“I seem to recall it was me doin’ all the talkin’ and you said a lot of ‘me too’...” she laughed.

“Okay, I meant everything you said,” he teased back.

“You sure about that Ross? Because I also called you stubborn and stupid…”

“And ‘an absolute arsehole’ don’t forget…” he added and rolled on his back with a chuckle.

“Oh Ross,” she said. “I didn’t mean those things…”

“Yes, you did--because I am. Maybe not ‘absolute’ but I can admit I’m ‘somewhat’ of an arsehole…”

She kissed his chest before resting her head lower on his belly. “Then you are my favourite somewhat arsehole, Ross,” she said.

“And you are the most meaningful person in my life…” he said, reaching out to touch her soft hair.

“Thank you for sayin’ that,” she said softly.

“Those were your words, Demelza. So thank you,” he said and pulled her up again so she was level with his head on the pillow. He stroked her cheek and looked into her eyes. They blazed with an intensity he’d come to know well over the last few hours together.

He wanted nothing more than to spend the day with her bare body wrapped around him, with inspired caresses, endless kisses. Even the ancients knew that nothing succeeded at keeping troubles at bay--or at least out of mind--like the pleasures of physical love.

But just then the telephone rang--a rapid string of jarring bleeps loud enough to be heard in the next room. The only person who knew they were there was Jinny Martin.

Good god, was her night shift not over yet? Shit hours for a single mum with two small children. Hoping he hadn’t made trouble for her, Ross switched on the lamp and picked up at once.

“Sorry, Ross. The police are here and want to ask some questions. I told them to wait and I’d call you down but they’re on their way up.”

“Thanks for the warning,” he said and rang off.

“What is it?” Demelza sat up in alarm and watched Ross furiously pull on his trousers “Ross?”

“It’s the police, they’re here. Apparently they want to ask me some questions...” He tried to sound calm.

“But how did they know where you were? What can this mean?” she cried and reached for her knickers.

“I don’t know. It seems so unlikely they’d find me...but stay in bed, Demelza,” he said and switched the lamp off again. “Pretend you’re asleep and don’t get up unless I call to you.” His voice was firm but gentle. He wanted to reassure her, to convince her he had a plan--though he most certainly did not.

He hadn’t fully buttoned his shirt when the knock came. It hadn’t sounded aggressive or urgent--was that a good sign? Or was Ross just reading too much into this?

“Just a minute,” he called gruffly, trying his best to sound as though he’d only just been roused. He put his fingers to lips and at his signal Demelza rolled over on her side facing the wall again. This time she had the covers pulled snugly up to her chin.

Ross ran his hands through his hair so it stood even more on end, then exhaled before he opened the door. He blinked his eyes at the glare of the hall light. It hadn’t been an act but added a convincing touch.

“Sorry to bother you, sir. I’m PC Pendarves, and this is PC Bunt, ” the taller constable said then he looked at his notepad, “Mr. Ross Poldark, is it?” He still had youthful spots on his face that were barely concealed by the sparse beard he was trying to grow.

Ross was confused by the question--surely they knew his name--wasn’t that why they were there? The constable didn’t seem sharp enough to be putting him on. But Ross’s bewilderment worked in his own favour--he didn’t look like a man who, for the past seven hours, had been expecting the police to call.

“Yes, what can I do for you?” Ross asked then glanced over his shoulder at the supposedly sleeping form just visible in the dark room. He pulled the door behind him so it was only open a few inches, and stepped into the hallway. “Sorry,” he whispered. “I don’t want to wake my...friend.” His hesitation at what to call her publicly was genuine but again fit tidily into his ruse. If Demelza and Ross were to have had a secret rendezvous, he’d hardly have announced it readily to the first person who knocked.

“Right, Mr. Poldark. Erm...the clerk said the other guest in the room is Demelza Crane?” This time it was PC Bunt, the squat bespectacled constable who spoke, trying not so subtly to get a peek at the woman in the bed.

“Carne,” Ross corrected. “Demelza Carne.” Instinctively he shifted his position to fully block any further view. “Do you need me to wake her…?”

“No, no sir. I don’t think so.” The first constable said and cleared his throat, seemingly embarrassed for his partner. Perhaps he wasn’t so young after all. “Yes, well, we’re making inquiries about a missing person.”

“A missing person?” Ross asked and hoped the relief wasn’t visible on his face.

“A Miss Rosina Hoblyn. Her father reported her missing day before last.”

“Oh?” Ross wondered why they were talking to him about this. “I’m not sure how I can help you…”

“We’re talking to all the guests with rooms facing the road,” Pendarves said as if reading Ross’s thoughts. “You see, a neighbour ‘cross the way, saw a young woman who fit Miss Hoblyn’s description last night right out in the street. A bit of a disturbance it was--she seemed to be having a row with someone. Then left in the same someone’s car.”

“On Church Road?” Ross twisted his brow as he took this in, an expression of questioning concern, which disguised his renewed panic at the presence of traffic cameras. No, he and Demelza had entered the hotel from the rear and were never even on Church Road.

“Yes, this happened right in front of the yoga studio,” Bunt offered, unable to hide his smirk that such an establishment had recently taken the place of a perfectly useful off-license.

“I’m afraid we heard nothing. We’ve…erm...” Ross paused. His sheepish expression was both genuine and well-played. “We’ve been in all night.”

“So you heard nothing? All night?” Bunt said. “This would have been around 11:30 PM?”

“Yes...I’m not sure what time we checked in. You can check at the front desk or I can wake Miss Carne…she might remember.” Ross took a chance here. It was better to be honest that they hadn’t even arrived until quite late.

“No bother, Mr. Poldark, if you didn’t see or hear anything of note outside the room,” Bunt said and laughed to himself, apparently amused by it all. He seemed to buy that Ross had other things on his mind the night before--perhaps he’d even been imagining the scene in his head.

“And the neighbours?” Ross took another chance here. “Did they observe…?” It would be good to know who was up last night and what they knew.

“Nah, they didn’t hear anything either. Okay, thanks for your time, Mr. Poldark. Here’s our cards if you or Miss Carne think of anything later…” PC Pendarves said and fumbled in his pocket before PC Bunt beat him to the punch and triumphantly handed over his own slightly crumpled business card.

“Of course,” Ross said and nodded politely. He waited until they began their retreat down the hallway before he slipped back into the room.

Even at the sound of the door closing, Demelza remained motionless, as though she was holding her breath. Without switching on the light, Ross snuggled next to her and buried his face in her hair.

“It’s okay,” he said softly. “They’re gone.”

She turned to him, and in the dim room he could see her eyes were wide--and wet.

“Demelza,” he said and wrapped her in his strong arms. “Don’t be scared. I’m still here.”

“I know, Ross,” she said bravely. “Tell me everythin’, I only heard bits. Is it true? The police are askin’ after Rosina Hoblyn?”

“You heard most of it then. Seems she’s missing--or so her dad says. I’m surprised he even noticed, the drunken lout that he is,” Ross said.

“Ross, did you tell them that you know Mr. Hoblyn? And you know her?”

“They didn't ask, and to be fair, I don’t really know Rosina—I know of her. I don’t think I’ve ever exchanged a word with her.”

“But Ross, you know she’s datin’ Charlie Kempthorne, don’t you? Or at least she was until recently. I think I just heard she broke it off with him.”

“I’d forgotten that. And it’s a connection I’m not happy to make. Ugh! I wonder what she was doing here in Truro?”

“And whose car she got into…” Demelza added.

“You heard the police say that as well?”

“Yes...Oh Ross, you don’t think Rosina could be in trouble, do you?”

“Well, if she is, at least the police are looking for her.”

“And not for you?”

“So it would seem…for now anyway.”

“Ross, I’m knackered as hell but my heart is racin’...I think we should go home.”

“I hate to say it, but I agree.” He kissed her lips, lingering for as long as he could, and dreading to pull away. “If you’re still tired later, we can take a nap together back at Nampara,” he suggested.

“No, Ross,” she said quickly. ”Remember we can’t be seen together.”

“What? That’s ridiculous,” he laughed. “The police now know we’re together and the whole point of you being my alibi is that people know about it…”

“Only some people--the right people at the right time. And we have to make it look like we want to keep it a secret. Otherwise why would we be out in the cover of night and sneakin’ off to a hotel in another town when we could just shag at your place or mine? Think about it, I mean, we both live alone…”

“I don’t. I have a housekeeper, remember,” he reminded her.

“Hmm...we have to decide if we tell Prudie, don’t we? No, maybe just leave some hints and clues. Better let her think she’s put two and two together on her own. She’ll probably start squawkin’ and she’ll want everyone to know she figured out our secret…”

“I don’t like this, Demelza. You know you’re not just my alibi, don’t you?”

“Yes, and I know you don't really think I’m ridiculous,” she said with a smile, reminding him of one of the insults he’d hurled at her the previous night that he’d repeated just now.

“But it is ridiculous that we’re together now…” he began.

“What?” she laughed and pretended to hit him.

“Let me finish.” He caught her hand in his and kissed her fingers.“We’re finally together, after months of idiocy…”

“Years,” she corrected him.

“Okay, years...and it’s ridiculous that we have to pretend to not be.”

“Not all the time,” she added.

“But to see you, to do this again,” he said, running their joined hands down her naked body, ”has to be secret? Or planned enough to seem secret? In any event I can't be with you freely, when I want, when we want. I think that’s going to destroy me.”

“No, Ross. Don’t you understand? It’s worth it to keep you safe--so we can be together. And it won’t be for long. As soon as this Trencrom business blows over, we can let the cat out of the bag.”

“Just so we’re clear, as much as I love the cat, I hate the bag. I hate it very much,” he said and laid his head on her chest.

“I know, Ross. Believe me, I want the whole world to know I’m yours.” She put her free hand to his head to play with his curls. A small gesture but one that moved him more than he expected.

“Me too,” he sighed, then not unpossessively put his hand on her hip. “And hopefully it will be over soon.”

“And no more Trencrom?”

“No more. We might be homeless and unemployed but…”

“Ross?”

“Never again. I promise you.”

----

DS Vage threw down his bacon sandwich with disgust when he saw PCs Pendarves and Bunt return from their door to door inquiries. He already knew what they’d say: No one saw anything, sir.

Oh, they'd swear they’d been thorough, but if they truly had, would they be back so soon? The door knocking, the questioning of witnesses--some of whom didn't even know yet that they were witnesses--that was real police work. And these idiots...what did they think the job was going to entail? High speed police chases? Suspects coming in willingly?

He glanced up at the photo of Rosina Hoblyn he’d pinned to the wall. She wasn’t a resident of his town but he’d be damned if she’d become a victim on his turf.

“Okay...what did you find?” he asked with a sigh.

“That yoga bird, she’s something, isn’t she?” Bunt laughed then turned serious when he saw his boss’s expression. “No sir, I mean Miss Rebecca Ellery said the same thing to us in person that she’d reported over the phone.” He looked in his notebook to get the exact words. “A young woman, blonde curly hair--dye job but with good low lights, approximately 5’4…”

“Oh come on,” Vage said with a groan. “That’s a bit specific, isn’t it? Did you question her on that? Did she tell you what shade of hair dye was? Icy Platinum or Natural Ash Blonde #004? Could she tell you what salon she’d been to?” he asked sarcastically. “And really...five four exactly?”

Everyone these days thought they knew it all. It came from watching too many police procedurals on the telly.

“No sir, I mean yes, sir,” Pendarves quickly interrupted. “Miss Ellery explained that she’d been a hairdresser before she opened the yoga business and it was her...erm ‘stock and trade’, she said. And she says she’s five four herself and this other woman was standing next to the lamp post under that rude graffiti so she could get a sense of her height. She also said she’d complained about the graffiti but no one has responded to her…”

“Alright...go on,” Vage said reluctantly.

“Yes, so the young woman was shouting at a man...Miss Ellery thought he was a man but she wasn’t sure how she knew it--she said that herself…”

“So this other person ?”

“Miss Ellery didn’t get a good look so she couldn't even say hair colour but they-him or her-- remained in the driver’s seat of a lime green Vauxhall Astra GTC.” Bunt was apparently very proud of himself for keeping an open mind about the driver.

“She was specific about the make and model of the car?” Vage raised a brow.

“Yes, she was, sir,” Bunt nodded. “And the lime green colour--she said it looked ‘super douchey’.”

Maybe Ellery was a reliable witness after all, Vage thought to himself.

“Okay, then the girl shouted something to the driver that sounded like ‘You’re a dickhead and you deserve what’s coming for you…’ But he--sorry, the person--didn’t say anything back, least not loud enough that Miss Ellery could hear from her window above the studio. But this person must have said something because Rosina...erm I mean the blonde girl, stopped shouting and got into the car...”

“Just got in? Signs of any coercion?”

“No physical force according to Miss Ellery. Do you think she knew the driver?” Pendarves asked.

“It’s possible…” Vage said.

“Then the Astra drove away north on Church Road,” Pendarves added.

“We’re checking the CCTV,” Bunt said quickly.

Bloody idiot. Of course the CCTV would be checked--DS Vage had already put in a request himself.

“And the neighbours?” he asked. He wanted to hear about the rest of their morning’s work.

“Only three residential flats on the east side of the road,” Pendarves explained. “One just above Miss Ellery--and they’re in Spain for the month. Another, number 74--Mr. and Mrs. Nathaniel Stephens heard some noise around 11:30 but it had stopped by the time they went to the front window--their bedroom is in the rear, you see. They saw nothing, closed the window, and went back to bed. Number 78, was Mister Bart Maddock, who openly admitted he’d been high--he said that--to the police!--and he was painting so he was ‘oblivious’ to what was happening on the street.”

“Painting? Like walls?”

“Naw, he’s an artist,” Pendarves explained. “That place is sorta a loft, big flat for just the one person but mostly taken up by what he called a ‘studio’. Two studios on one street--never knew so many arty types had moved in.”

“Rents will rise as a result,” Vage grumbled. “Okay and the hotel, the Star and Garter?”

“Three guest rooms faced Church Road. Ground floor is the pub, closed at 11 of course…”

“Of course…”

“Proprietor and night desk clerk heard nothing but their offices are in the rear. The rooms are all on the next floor up. Older woman at the end of the hall took her hearing aids out so she heard nothing and the couple next to her put their baby down to sleep just after 8, then fell right asleep themselves after that.”

“Poor sods. That’s family life, isn’t it?” Vague sighed.

“The couple nearest the stairs though…” PC Bunt let out a chuckle.

“Well? Yes?”

“They were busy shagging all night…”

“Aw c’mon, Bunt…” Pendarves groaned.

“What?” Bunt objected to being called out. “The man said as much as said himself! According to him, they were in all night and were ‘otherwise occupied’ so they heard nothing.”

“Nothing? Great…” Vage sighed.

“Lucky bastard, that one. I got a glimpse of the friend waiting in his bed,” Bunt chuckled then he saw his boss was not amused by tales of him leering at sleeping women.

Dance of Life, Vage was thinking. All the stages of love and life on one hallway. First there’s early love and passion, then settling down and starting a family, finally you’re old and alone. And behind which door is my life lived these days?

He really didn’t consider himself old, though he knew his colleagues did, especially the newly minted constables like these two. At least he was still fit and had all his hair--and his hearing. Could he still be considered a family man though? His own children were grown and far from home. He missed them but not the sleepless nights of teething and ear infections, or even the teenage years when they proclaimed how much they hated him right before they asked him for the car keys and 20 quid.

And door #1? He could barely remember the days of needing that sort of urgent and exhausting sex, but he’d certainly been there in his younger days, with his Tina. What a looker, she’d been. Blonde, curvy, with those great legs. His Tina who was no longer his--she’d left him right after their youngest went off to the army. He should have known she was slipping away from him when she’d switched her hair colour from Natural Ash Blonde #004 to Icy Platinum.

“Okay, and you got names and contact information of all these witnesses--or ‘not-witnesses’ as the case may be?”

“Yes, we got names,” Pendarves said quickly. He had not in fact gotten contact information but assumed he could request it from the hotel at a later time if really necessary.

“Deaf bird was…” Bunt began reading from his notepad again.

PC Pendarves coughed and shot him a look.

“Hearing impaired guest,” Bunt started over, “was Elizabeth Triggs from St. Just, the family with the baby were the Tregeagles--Benjamin and Sarah, didn’t catch the baby’s name…”

“Also Ben...Benny they said,” Pendarves added. “From Falmouth.”

“Right,” Bunt said, “and our ‘sex’ couple was Demelza Carne--we didn't talk to her, she was asleep--and Ross Poldark.”

“Wait a minute,” Vage said, a bell ringing somewhere in the back of his mind.

“Sorry sir. Thought it was respectful to let her sleep. Should we have talked to her?” Pendarves asked.

“No, that’s quite alright. But did you say the man was called...Ross Poldark?”

[theluckyyyoneee]

Guise

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Angst / Fluff

Word Count: 4.1+k

part 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 |

SoulmateAU! Where he hides his soulmate tattoo from everyone, especially you.

It was an awkward silence that surrounded the two as they sat on Yoongi’s couch after coincidentally meeting each other on the street, after embracing each other in a moment of spontaneity, after hesitantly asking you if you would like to visit his apartment to talk privately, Yoongi had led you back to his small one bedroom complex, trembling fingers holding onto your hand in a firm grip, afraid you’d disappear into thin air just as quickly as you had suddenly appeared. 

You sat on the edge of the neutral colored seat cushion, just fiddling with your fingertips with your bottom lip tucked between your teeth, but to him you looked like a daydream he never wanted to wake from. He had realized how lonely and alone he really was, and this insane trance he somehow came up with, that he would wake up and be alone once again in his bed, he didn’t believe this could be real, but could believe his imagination would torture him with something like this.

The nightmares he suffered through on a daily basis were too cruel.

Though this one, where he had hope given to him instead of suddenly thrust out of his reach, would destroy him when he woke.

Somehow the dreams of sweet domestic lifestyle he envisioned were worse than drowning in quick sand, his inaudible bellows unheard. 

It was a peek of what could have been, if only he’d been better, been more expressive and open, more.... unlike himself. At first, it was easy to fool himself to thinking he wanted nothing to do with you, but when he finally thought deep and realized the problem lied within himself, it was too late. 

You were without a doubt better off without someone as dreary and as closed off as him.

But nonetheless, he would take what his visions threw at him.

Committing every detail to memory, he stared at your silent form, meeting your dark gaze every once in a while as you glanced at him nervously. Your thick strands were loose and hung around your shoulders and down the small of your back, your frame dressed in casual attire, having left your shoes near the front door upon entering and he couldn’t help the small tug on his lips as he eyed your cute design of animated pigs on your sock clad feet. Still convinced this was a daydream he dreamt up, you being so close to him but yet so far away, he decided to make best of the situation before he ultimately awoke.

You visibly tensed when he rose from his spot on the adjacent couch and took a seat a hair widths away from you, and tensed even more still when he maneuvered himself so he lay on his back, sprawled across the couch and pulled you gently so you rested on his chest, his heart rapidly thump thump thumping in your ears as he wrapped his arms tightly around your frame. 

“Let me just hold you for a bit before I wake up,” he mumbled to himself, wondering if he would actually be able to fall asleep in a dream itself, but found that it didn’t really matter if he got to hold you like this. You were soft and warm against his lank form through the thin material of your clothing separating your skin from his, and the comforting smell of your shampoo that smelled like coconut relaxing his muscles as he fell into a sleep that was peaceful for the first time in weeks, missing your confused expression as you took in his odd statement.

Splaying his large hand along your shoulder blades, the warmth of his hand seeping in through your light blouse, he slowly placed a pale knuckle underneath your chin and tenderly brought your own gaze to meet his and his dark eyes flickered all over your face, noting to himself every little detail he was able to finally spot from being this close to you, realizing just how long and thick your eyelashes were, and that tiny freckle you had where they hit your skin whenever you blinked. 

You were more beautiful than he remembered. 

Gently sweeping stray strands from your face and clasping your jaw in his palm, he brought you closer as his lips connected with the skin of your forehead, just above your eyebrows before letting your head rest back on his chest, tightening his hold on you once again as he slowly fell asleep as the last bit of tension left him.

He didn’t notice your wide eyed expression, already in a deep sleep, your own heart rapidly thump thump thumping in your chest as you blinked at this unexpected series of events. You had wanted to talk a bit, but couldn’t make the words leave your mouth as the warmth continued to further envelop you, you figured you would have lots of time to work things through after a quick cat nap, not noticing how tired you were until now, that empty feeling, the sense of incompleteness you’ve been having to endure slowly vanishing with every inhale of his detergent and body wash, further lulling you to sleep, your cheek pressed close to his chest, catching the way his once rapidly thundering heart beat had now calmed down to a steady and soothing lullaby meant for your ears only.

There was a strange weight and a restrictive hold on Yoongi as he awoke from his surprising peaceful slumber, a pleasant warmth enveloping him. Considering how brightly the sunlight beams were peeking in from his blinds, he decided he couldn’t have been resting long, but damn if he didn’t feel refreshed and energized, the most he’s been for the past few weeks. He hadn’t even had a nightmare this time around, either, he pondered to himself as he stared at the empty space of his ceiling.

The dream he had with you was one he wished he could visualize every time he closed his eyes, that way he wouldn’t fear going to sleep at night every day. He had actually gotten to hold you without you gazing at him with a condescending and indifferent expression. You instead gazed up at him with an expression of wonder, that blush painting your cheekbones as he dreamt he had given your forehead a kiss before embracing you in his arms.

A rare genuine smile graced his lips for the first time in a very long time and shifted onto his side, or at least attempted to. That was when he noticed that he was not alone, and that his daydream may have not been a fiction of his imagination after all, but a very peculiar and amazing reality.

His breath caught in his throat as he gaped at your still peacefully dozing self, still closely curled up into his frame, your hands clasped in front of your chest as you snuggled your face closer into the crook of his neck, your warm breaths you released hitting his suddenly scorching skin made him shiver involuntarily. 

He soon grew to regret not settling down a bit to savor this moment, because he fully believed this would be the only time you would want to be this close and intimate with him, but he couldn’t help the way he sprung up in complete utter surprise at this not being something he had imagined. Heat began to creep up his neck up to the very tips of his ears, he was sure his whole upper frame was a fiery red from his embarrassment as he recalled his past actions of abruptly sitting down next to you and pulling you down in a sleep dazed embrace when he foolishly believed it was fictional. 

No, of course it had happened in real life and okay, as long as he had some time to gather his thoughts it would be fine - oh no, you were waking up, because of course you were, that was the way his life went, apparently. 

Yoongi gaped with silent horror, a grimace on his anxious face as he stood restlessly near the end of the couch as you dazedly studied your surroundings, no doubt still feeling a bit sluggish from your sleep. Just as he noted it took you a little while to wake up from your rest, he noted just how frustratingly adorable you were when waking up. It was a sight he could wake up to everyday. 

Your face a bit puffy from sleep, furrowed brows and pouty lips had Yoongi’s fingers twitching by his sides with the urge to pinch your cheeks and play with your hair as he lulled you back to sleep, drooping eyes you had difficulty keeping open for a long period of time had him cooing internally.

Until you made eye contact with the awkwardly hunched male, eyes widening in conjunction as you scrambled into a sitting position, pushing yourself up with your arms and plopping up a bit comically, running your hands through your slightly mussed hair and over your face, trying your best to rid yourself of residual drowsiness.

His fingertips twitched once again with the desire to be the one feeling the strands of your hair between his fingers, to caress the smooth skin of your cheekbones with the pads of his thumbs, no doubt the callouses on his thumbs much rougher than the skin on your cheeks, to have you give him an infectious grin as you snuggle more into him.

But of course none of that happened, Yoongi was too embarrassed to move from his current stance until you sent him a grin that seemed just as shy as he felt, his guard lowering a bit as he saw he wasn’t the only one feeling a bit apprehensive in this novel situation, you were just better at hiding it.

When you quietly asked if you could use his bathroom, he nodded at once and led you down the hallway and hurried and set down some cold drinks on the table for you and him, knowing that once you came back there would be things to talk about between the two of you. 

If what happened earlier hadn’t been a daydream his subconscious had conducted, and it wasn’t just his wishful thinking, that you had come to find him, and ran to him like your life depended on it and had told him that you missed him... then what did this all mean?

Had you come to possibly grant him another chance?

Or were you lulling him into a false sense of security and rightful longing before letting him down easy?

What about Namjoon?

Hearing the familiar sound of a door being opened and shut brought him back to reality as you slowly stepped into his line of vision, your posture tense as you looked around the apartment quietly, seemingly as lost in thought as Yoongi.

“I, uh...” you started hesitantly, mumbling cutely with your eyes downcast as the both of you avoided eye contact with the other person, “wasn’t planning on taking a nap this afternoon.” Your words made Yoongi feel even more sheepish than he already did, but was put slightly at ease by the easy grin gracing your lips.

“Yeah, sorry about that.” He replied with an awkward laugh, not knowing what else to say other than he was really sorry, and rubbed the back of his neck nervously. He glanced at the drinks and quickly jumped at the change of subject. “I have some water or some juice if you’d like some?”

Thanking him softly with another small smile, you moved to sit across from him at the circular table, your hands wrapped around the clear container. He wanted to unwrap one of those hands and place it in his, but that would just make you even more uncomfortable than you already were. 

He had a pretty decent clue as to what type of conversation you would think of, at least he thought he did, maybe.

“I’m sorry-”

“It’s okay-”

Yoongi’s brows furrowed as he took in your sudden apology, the silence enveloping the room as you two started to speak at the same time and halted to let the other person speak, but instead were too busy trying to grasp the meaning of each other’s two word sentences. 

What were you apologizing for? Did you really mean to let him down easy and accept Namjoon’s feelings?

Though he couldn’t really blame you for wanting to do so, the very high percentage of probability of that actually happening made his insides feel queasy.

Your own brows creased in confusion to his out of context consent but shook your head, leaning forward from your chair, your hands grasping the drink more desperately now, tighter and more firm. “I don’t know what you meant to say, but... do you mind if I go first? If I don’t get it out now, I’m afraid I never will.” 

Expression making the transition from puzzled to anxious, your big brown eyes looking into his for the longest time today, your mouth parted just a bit as you awaited his answer. 

Yoongi nodded after a while, silently bracing himself for the inevitable words that were to soon leave your lips.

“I know we both decided to just pretend this never happened, but I still feel like we should have closure before I pursue a relationship with someone I actually want to be with.”

The phrase didn’t have to be expressed or spoken verbatim, but it was along those lines that he fully expected to be hit with and instead was blown into a stupor at:

“Can we start over?”

Those four words rendered him speechless, frozen and completely astonished. Never had he dreamed of this outcome, elation quickly encompassed his entire being, his body warming up as his vision clouded over with unshed tears that entered his eyes as he allowed himself to imagine the future he could experience with you, believing it too heavenly to be true. “If this is a dream, it really would be too cruel,” he spoke more to himself than anyone else, but you seemed to hear him just fine.

Eyes wide, you stared and examined his teary eyes quietly, your own expression turning into mild alarm at the sudden change in demeanor, noticing your own hand twitching in his direction. “What do you mean a dream?”

Realizing you heard him, he felt his face flush and he hurriedly wiped away any tears he might have left on his cheeks, his face flushing more than he thought possible and decided to just be truthful. “All my dreams revolve around you.” His voice was more hoarse now than earlier, but it always was after crying.

He watches as you blink some more and look down, a small smile on your face and Yoongi decided not to clarify that he’s had mostly nightmares involving you to continue to gaze upon your smiling expression a bit longer. You lifted your head and shyly told him, “Mine too.”

It was his turn to blink as you slowly reached across the table to grab hold of one of his hands in yours, and his attention was snatched from your face to notice how small your hand was in comparison to his, how soft and warm your skin was against his, the pleasant feeling enveloping him just by having this small physical contact with you.

He tightened his fingers around yours once and took in your words, assuming you were lucky enough that your dreams must’ve not been as damaging and disturbing as his were by the slightly dreamy tone you used as a smile also tugged on the corner of his lips, grinning back at you for a moment before he remembered. 

“What about Namjoon?” He asked, leaning back in his chair and away from you, pulling his hand from your grasp to return it to his lap, missing your touch already. He read the hurt on your face as he did so and his heart squeezed in his chest at causing you pain, but he had to be sure about what you were asking him, even if he was ready to jump at the thought of getting a second with you.

Brows furrowing as you quickly masked your sullen expression to look quizzically at him. “Namjoon? What about him?” 

He couldn’t bear to say it out loud, but for reason you were acting as if you had no idea what he was trying to hint at. Did that mean you meant to sweep it under the rug and preferred not to tell him? As much as Yoongi would absolutely love to just take your words as they were, he needed to know. “You know,” he started quietly, “about his romantic interest?” His eyes were trained on the wood of the table in front of him as he awaited your answer.

It was silent for a bit until he heard you ask, “You knew about that?” Your face was shocked and you had leaned forward in your seat again as you stared at him with wide eyes.

He raised his eyebrows and nodded slowly, a bit thrown off by your reaction. Your shock he understood, but it was a pleasant kind of surprise you showed him, you looked entertained in a kind of way he did not understand.

 “Wow, I didn’t think news of him and Jungkook being soulmates would spread that fast.”

Once again, he was in for a surprise at your words and asked you to repeat your previous statement. You eyed him a bit strangely as you repeated your words, nodding along to your own words and proceeded to add in more details so Yoongi understood completely what transpired at the apartment complex a few days ago, while he just sat there. Figuratively he comprehended the story but it was just happening a bit too fast.

“So Namjoon didn’t have anything he wanted to tell you?” He asked, a million more questions running through his mind, but that was the question he was most interested in.

You pondered for a bit and nodded. “Oh yeah, he did tell me he had something he wanted to talk to me about later, but then it got so crazy we both kind of just forgot about it.” You shrugged, seeming like it wasn’t something that really interested you too much and Yoongi relaxed.

His guess was Namjoon had planned to tell you after the meet-up with this Jungkook character, but had gotten a soulmate of his own. He didn’t know whether to feel good about Namjoon working it out with his own soulmate, who was a total sweetheart person by your impression of this Jungkook fellow-he would have to take your word for it, he had never met the person before-or relieved that Namjoon was apparently no longer going to take you away from him.

All the while he was contemplating this, he hadn’t noticed your position that had slowly become more comfortable slowly tense back at up at his silence, your expression turning into a dejected one the longer you two sat there.

“So I um,” your quiet voice threw him out of his inner turmoil, bringing his eyes from the spot on the wall he had been concentrated on back to you, his own form tensing a bit at how down you were. “I guess the answer to my question is a no, then? Since you haven’t answered...” you mumbled the last part in your chest, but Yoongi heard it just fine and straightened in his chair, panicking. 

“Of course we can start over!” He all but screamed in his haste to assure you what you were thinking was wrong. How could you ever think he would refuse you?

You brightened at once, a small ‘really?’ leaving your lips as you smiled wide, his lips mirroring your smile subconsciously. His smile slipped some as he remembered the words he once told you.

“You think this makes sense? Us? That you’re my soulmate?”

“Look, we have nothing in common, and to be honest, this whole soulmate shit is really fucking unfair.”

It wasn’t that he was particularly lying when he uttered those words to you, but it came out a lot harsher and the implications much worse than he ever intended. It didn’t make sense, still doesn’t, why the universe paired him with someone as wholesome and sunny as you, but now he was determined to embrace it instead of running away like he once did.

How foolish of him.

But he never meant any of the other words he said, had only wanted to seal the tiniest cracks by appearing as the most disgusting and vain man you’d ever seen. 

Your expression of hurt rang clear in his mind even now and he realized he had never even apologized for saying those words to you, knowing he was hurting you while he was doing it, but choosing to go through with it. 

“I’m so sorry,” he breathed into his hands, feeling incredibly mortified, unable to look into your lovely brown eyes with his past words rendering him unable to life his head. “Are you sure you want to start over? Even after all the horrible things I’ve said to you?”

He couldn’t see your expression, but he heard your soft inhale of breath and tensed, awaiting your response. Your hands gripped his in a soft, but firm tug and brought them away from his face, Yoongi opening his eyes to see you gazing at him warmly, feeling lighter already that you weren’t looking at him with pity or condolence. 

“You have nothing to apologize for.” Tone completely soothing and gentle, your stroked tiny designs on the skin of his knuckles with the pad of your thumbs, very effortlessly luring him into a much calmer state than he was just a few moments ago. You looked away, teeth catching the ample flesh of your bottom lip as a sigh escaped you.

Yoongi followed the movement and was immediately sidetracked with fantasies of his teeth biting that lower lip instead, his hands running along of the expanse of your soft and bare skin that would leave tingles on the nerves of the skin of his palms, your sounds of pleasure being swallowed by his kiss-

“Well, it’s not like I’ve been the nicest to you, either.” Your sudden continuation startled him out his unexpectedly steamy reverie that brought his body temperature rising at alarming speed, blinking flatly as he regained his composure - or tried to, at least. You were still eyeing him innocently, albeit a bit guiltily as he comprehended your words and silently disagreed with them, he also relaxed a bit knowing he didn’t let his inappropriate thoughts become apparent to you.

He didn’t even know if you saw him that way, you could be proposing a solely platonic relationship with him. Which was fine with him by all means, platonic relationship existed all around the world and were just as strong as any other relationship. He’d be happy any way you wanted to be with him. 

“But, these last few weeks away from you and everyone, I think I realized how important our bond is, and how the problem never really lied with you, but with me.” You continued, your eyes flitting over his face, gauging his reactions to your words. “So I just want to say that I’m also really sorry for hurting you and that I would really, really love it if we could give this another shot.”

Your face scrunched up so unbelievably endearingly it made his heart constrict in his chest at the sight of it, your eyes squeezed shut with your lips pursed ever so slightly. Not being able to resist any longer, the words you were spewing were exactly the identical thoughts he had over the course of the last few weeks, he sprung up from his chair, realizing that you two had never released the hold you two had on each other’s hands and used them to pull you up and into his tight embrace.

A small noise of surprise escaped you as your smaller stature collided with his, his arms wrapped firmly around you, not wanting to let you slip away ever again. “If anyone should be begging for a second chance it’s me,” he mumbled into the crook of your neck, inhaling the soothing scent of coconut, a scent he never knew was so appealing until today, a smile creeping onto his lips as he felt you holding onto him just as tightly as he was.

“I would love to start over.”

You exhaled and relaxed more in his hold, nodding as a breathy giggle left your lips. 

“Okay.”

work has been hectic as usual which left me with a lot less time to write but i got it done! again tysm to all of you who are continuing to read and i love and treasure the comments of appreciation and encouragement you all leave me, it makes my day and makes me feel so love <333 hope you enjoy and if you’d like to be tagged just comment down below or send me a message!!:)

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[romantic-barnes]

strawberry & tape | part four

| part four - blood red jam |

Pairings: dark!biker!bucky x reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes has the town in his hands and a lot Blood. All you have is a cafe your mother left you after her passing. But as Bucky’s attention moves to you, do you have the strength to pay revenge for his wrongdoings? Does your push into the dark paradise end in love or blood?

Warnings: death, possessiveness, mention of non-con, gang violence. This is dark bucky! please don’t read if you are uncomfortable with any of the topics mentioned above! 

A/n: I am so sorry. oof. please don’t read if you are under 18!

Dividers by @whimsicalrogers​

The days dragged on, leaving you breathless. Days spend in the bed, not even crying. You knew that not going to work was possibly the worst thing you could do, but not a bone in your body was able to move, all muscles numb, your head screaming at you to stay in bed. There seemed to be nothing left for you. The thing Bucky did to you left you scared. If that’s what he was going to do to you for not believing you, then what other things was he capable of doing?

The bed started to smell like sweat, grime and dirt. You were disgusted with yourself, the way you could let go of yourself. Over the last few days you had let yourself go like you’ve never done before. 

One of the girls, Natasha, brought you food every morning and evening. She told you that Bucky wanted to make sure you were well fed and taken care of, but the gesture that would appear sweet and caring, made you want to puke violently. After violating you, shaming you in public for anyone to see he wanted to take care of you? 

But you ate. You pushed down the bites with difficulty, because the thought of what he would do if you didn’t frightened you and you hated yourself for it. That you bend so easily at his wish.

After days of laying in the murky bed, you decided to take a shower, washing away the dirt piling on top of your skin. Your hand traced your skin, the disassociation of your own body frightened you. The soft flesh felt like someone else’s. Your hand lowered following the water’s stream, down to your pelvis, down to your core. 

You hissed as you touched your sensitive skin. A shiver running up your body from the pain. Even after days and days of laying in bed, the pain never subsided and Bucky’s fingers left their mark, ghosting on top of your body like foul mold. A soff sob left your lips as you gently washed yourself, a hand steadying yourself on the wall opposite you, closing your eyes as your tears mixed with the water. 

Stepping out of the shower you looked at yourself in the mirror. You traced the contours of your face with your eyes, but the woman in the mirror was someone you couldn’t recognize. A woman who’s skin started to crack, the pain creeping out from the cracks beneath. A pile of pain growing like weeds.

As you sat at the table, eating the breakfast Natasha brought you, you knew you needed to go. Staring outside the sun peaked through the clouds. A glimmer of hope. Far away in the big city someone should be able to help you. 

After you got ready, you remembered Bucky’s demeanour when you went out for breakfast with Lana, the way he made you ask for permission. The memory send shivers running across your body like a million cockroaches slithering on your skin. 

Your feet carried you to his office, like walking on thorns. The door becoming bigger with every step you took towards it. A man stood in front of it and if you weren’t so distracted by the killing machine resting in his hands, you would recognize him as Clint, the father of the girl who tragically died a few years ago. 

A big topic for gossip, no respect for the young girl that lost her life too soon, but the people like to talk in Dawn. Some say her father killed her himself, but other believe that she was already dead once her father joined the Howling Commandos and that her death was just an accessory to the name. The girl was discovered by her own mother, laying face down by the church. Her eyes had been carved out and her mouth was sewed shut. 

Just looking at him send puke squeezing up your throat.

“What do you want?” Clint barked, death stare on your body. 

“I’m here to see Bucky.” You croaked out. 

Clint hesitated for a second, but knocked on the door regardless. Bucky granted permission and Clint opened the door for you, revealing the room behind it. You stepped in carefully examining the room. The walls painted red, a deep, morbid red. The pain staining everything it touched with beams of red. 

Bucky sat behind the desk, leaning back on his chair, a sinister smile painting his lips. The door behind you shut close and the prospect of being in a room alone with him frightened you. 

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Bucky said, tilting his head.

It took you a little to form the words carefully in your head. “I wanted to ask if I could go visit Lana.” As soon as the words left you, your cheeks heated up with embarrassment.  

“That’s cute, but I need more than that.” Bucky’s smile formed to a smirk as he rolled his chair back. “Come here.” He ordered with a whisper. 

You couldn’t tell if he was being serious or not, but your hart started to race. A slow step forward and determination took over. Just this and you could go forward with your plan. Another step and another. You now stood in front of Bucky, waiting.

Bucky looked up to you. “Get on your knees.” 

You swallowed thickly, lowering yourself on your knees like he ordered. It didn’t take a genius to guess what he wanted. You were prepared for the worst, to taste him in your mouth. Your head between the legs of devils’s creation, but even the smartest people can be wrong.

“Beg.” 

You looked up to him, confused. The stern look on his face told you he meant it, Bucky wanted you to beg for it. “Can I please go -go to Lana’s house?” The heat in your face travelled down to your neck. “Please, B-bucky?” Your voice almost failed you, but as his smirk widened to a smile you let out a breath of relieve.

“Sure, sugar. But only because you asked so nicely.” Bucky reached his hand out, caressing your cheek with the back of his hand. He traced from your forehead, down to your temple, to your jaw with the tips of his fingers. His hand travelled down to your throat and with a swift move he enclosed his hand around it, encouraging you to stand with him. 

He towered over you with his hand on your neck. “Have fun.” Bucky breathed, his hot breath on your face and you just wanted to cry. 

As soon as he released you, you stumbled away from him, backing out of the room while you almost tripped over you feet. The moment you were out of the house, running down the street you were crying. Turning corners, passing people and you knew they would be looking after you, how couldn’t they? 

Lana’s house came into view and you slowed down, walking up the steps to her door. You ringed the doorbell and the door swung open. Lana let you in without words. 

Once in her room you sat at her desk, opening her laptop. Lana sat on the edge of her bed next to you with questions all over her face. After a while of searching you fund what you were looking for and it was a woman named Maria Hill. a private investigator. 

“I’m going to take them down from the inside. Since the police here in Dawn can’t help me, someone in the city surely will.” You spoke without taking your eyes off the screen. 

“Y/n, are you sure about this?” You turned to your friend. “Someone saw what Bucky did to you.” Her voice got quiet, a whisper almost. 

You lowered your head, the thought of people talking about you, standing in the phone booth. “That’s why I need to do this.”

Lana left the room making tea while you called Maria, explaining the situation you were in. She asked questions you were reluctant to answer, but you did either way. Bucky’s eyes haunted you brain, his voice ringing in your ear making it difficult to focus on the woman’s voice. so much so that she had to pull you back from your thoughts from time to time. 

Once you arrived back at the house you avoided everyone like you always did, resorting to your room at every hour. You were supplied with groceries, but that was the only human interaction you got. Your days were filled with sitting by the window, watching everyone live their life free from the invisible handcuffs. 

After contacting the private investigator, Lana promised to help you despite her life being on the line as well and you thanked the gods for her. She was to inform you on any details that arise. You were nervous, chewing on your nails down to the nub of your fingertips. 

Your nervousness didn’t falter as the day went on.

A knock on the door shook you out of your dream. The opening of your door made you sit up. Two men stood across from the bed, ushering for you to get up. They led you down the stairs to Bucky’s office. The pit in your stomach told you vile things, warnings. 

They opened the door, but the scene in front of you made no sense to you. You walked in further, at least four men stood around the room. Bucky stood behind his desk, his hands wrapped around the back of the throat of Lana. 

Your breaths became shallow, too fast to catch up. 

Lana’s eyes stared into yours, red rimmed and glossy. The two men grabbed your upper arms on either side, but you were too focused on your best friend, standing with him, shaking. The air around so thick it was chocking you. 

“Peter over here told me some interesting things, dollface.” Bucky’s anger was visible in his face by the creases on his forehead, fire burning behind the blue of his eyes and you’ve never seen anything like it. “He said that you told Lana about the police and then, oh remember, you tried to call her?”

His words set in and you glanced to Peter standing at the wall, his head down in shame. Your lips parted but nothing came out. 

“You know what we do to traitors? We punish them.” 

“Stop, she had nothing to do with the police, Bucky.” 

“Well, dalin’, how would I know? And since I don’t want to mess up your pretty face, she has to deal with your punishment.” His grip on her throat tightened, his fingertips digging into her soft flesh and he slammed her pelvin into the edge of the desk making Lana yelp in pain. 

“You know I fucked her, right? I took her innocence right here.” With a thump Lana’s chest hit the desk and Bucky bend her over. “Just like this.”

“No, no, no, stop.” Your voice barely audible and you wanted to cover your mouth but the men held your arms to the sides of your body tightly. Your heart pounded against your chest so vigorously you thought that it would bruise your ribs.

Bucky lifted Lana’s skirt and her sobs filled the room, but none of the men standing payed her pain any mind, watching the scene unfold before them, not even flinching, batting an eye. 

“Stop, please.” You pleaded and you were ready to go down to your knees, beg for forgiveness. 

Bucky’s face lit up at your words, looking directly into your eyes. “Say that again.” He closed his eyes, groaning over Lana’s cries. He exposed Lana even further, lifting the skirt over her back, showing her cotton panties underneath. From the corner of your eye you saw one of the men, blond hair and blue eyes, lick his lips. 

Bucky’s eyes opened and you sunk down until your knees hit the wooden floor, but underneath your skin the wood felt as if you were kneeling on glass for him. “Please.” You begged.

“Alright, no problem. But I would’ve liked to fuck her one last time, she cried so pretty with my dick in her cunt.” His low, morbid chuckle filled your ears. “I have something better in mind.”

There wasn’t time. No time could’ve prepared you to register what you witnessed. With a quick snap and a loud crack, Lana’s legs softened, her body relaxed against the table. The life she had left her eyes, her body numb. 

Your jaw slacked, but realization didn’t hit. It couldn’t be true. A sinister silence fell and Lana’s body with it, sliding off the desk, but you couldn’t hear the impact of her hitting the floor. 

You were frozen in place, kneeling on the floor and something within you told you the truth, he had snapped her neck right in front of you, without remorse, without hesitation.

And it hit you once again. 

You’ll never make it out alive.

[ next ]

[tenderlyrenjun]

[2020 A.D.]

“Hey, pay attention.”

Renjun smacks your inner thigh after he sees you staring at his eyes, more focused on him than the words he reads for your mutual art history class. 

He chose an art degree and you a medical degree, yet somehow you two share a course for his major, instead of something like chemistry or calculus, which would benefit your degree but also satisfy his general education (yeah, you had an assistant prep you on college requirements; this era is so different from the Song Dynasty). In his mind, since the course details go further than your lifespans, starting at pre-history, Renjun thought that the new material would be fun to learn. Well, more than the computer basics class he forced you to register for. You still need to get a little (a lot) better at technology - hence the study session. He only wanted to start with cave drawings to remind you that this should be an enjoyable experience.

But first you have to pay attention.

And he flicks you again, because you still just stare at him.

You scrunch your forehead at him, simultaneously pushing him off your chest in retaliation. Studying anatomy would have been a better decision, you think as Renjun falls back to you, grabbing your neck to draw you in a sweet, long kiss, another persuasion, you know. Exploring the body has to be more exciting than staring at your lives in a textbook. Although, the way he reads it like an epic, inflecting different parts of his melodious voice, is enough to make you watch.

“How can I [pay attention]?” you ask, breathless (to which he rolls his eyes - dramatic), blinking slowly at his lips - they are too far away now. “You make history sound so pretty.”

Renjun slides his hand on your cheek, a tender gesture that he made more habitual in the last 900 years. You lean off the pillows to grant him better access, and he leans on your shoulder in return, complimenting the romanticized Cleopatra and Marc Antony. He stares at you for another minute, until your fingers curl around his palm and you kiss it.

“You made history pretty.”

“Are you trying to get me to look through the text for some pictures of us?” you ask wryly. He shrugs innocently, taking his hand back. You sigh, pulling the textbook (and him) closer. Renjun nuzzles his head up your chest, resting gracefully on your collarbone as you recline against the padded headboard for support. You flip through the glossy pages, looking as forward as the Impressionist era - your time in France was ... passive-aggressive, so you close the book and hug your lover, combing the hairs over his eyes.

“Shall we study something else?” he whispers, tracing the velvet sheets below you. He gradually wakes up, lifting his chin toward you for a better look at your answer. “Hmm?” he asks again. You cup his face one-handedly, pressing another gently kiss on his perched lips, suggesting another typical young adult experience, one that you have done countless times outside the constraints of college. Upon another embrace, when he opens his mouths and you extend your tongue, he murmurs again: “How’s that whole getting to know mortals thing going?”

You put a hand on his chest, swallowing back your spit, relenting for a moment to play along with his college fantasy. “I made one friend.” With your eyes still closed, you go in for another kiss, failing to see him to look up at you - not that it stays, he equally returns your embrace.

“Tell me more,” he asks of you, actions becoming embolden as he crawls over you, planting his hands by your waist.

“His name is Nana,” you whisper, equally enamored as he takes the upper hand that you give him. “He wants to be a surgeon too.”

“Hmm, too?” Renjun smirks, his hands coming onto you now. For someone with many reservations against his ten-year plan, you sure as hell put a lot of work into it. He finds it incredibly sweet of you, and right now, he tells you how sexy it is when you indulge him.

You nod your head, eagerly anticipating more of his enthusiasm; perhaps giving him more details of your day will do the trick: “Pediatrics, not cardiothoracic.” You thought that studying the heart would be easy, considering all the centuries you spent ripping them out. “He somewhat reminds me of Jaemin.”

Renjun nods, understanding, then he kisses down your jaw, to your neck, using his tongue to gently tap at the very visible jugular (well, at least to his vampiric sight; he attributes it to a love tunnel vision though, slightly more romantic). You almost push him away, down, wanting less noticeable bite marks. He should give you another set of bites below the ones already on your rib cage. You can pass that off as a planetary convergence tattoo. Although, this is a little unfair. If he drains your body now,  you will have to feed again and so soon, likely incapable of stopping until you deplete a hospital’s reserve or slaughter an apartment complex. 

“I miss Jaemin,” you confess unexpectedly. Your friend is not gone, unlike Xiaojun, who you still think of here and there, but ever since the Na Clan (also known as the Elysian Coven, in more elite circles) assumed power in 1400, enforcing vampire law, Jaemin has been consumed by traditional politics. The only time you see him is when all coven leaders are required at meetings, otherwise Renjun sees him twice a year for updates. They only last three days, or else you join them, out of fear for another mistress situation or from sensing crises. 

Renjun hovers above you now, licking your lips rather than the column of your neck. He kisses you once, twice, three times, slipping his tongue on your mouth, feeling around for your fangs. When they grow in, matching his, he pulls away, sitting up.

“We can go see him this weekend, if you want.”

You prop yourself on your arms, glaring at him. “No, we have school and work to stay on top of.”

Renjun rolls his eyes, kissing you again. “Okay, then next month.”

“Why not the weekend after?”

“I got invited to a frat party.”

“What?!” 

You shove Renjun off you. That is not fair. “You wore a suit to class. How the hell did you get invited to a frat party?”

“Hey!” Renjun shoves you back, jokingly, his smile poorly restraining a laugh. “Because I’m nice.” He sits up, pulling you into his lap by your waist, close enough to ghost his breath over your lips, still smelling like AB negative. “And I actually know how to talk to people.”

“Oh bite me,” you jeer, rolling your eyes, hands squared over his shoulders. He opens his mouth to taunt you in return, but you pout at him, changing the mood. His endeared smile never changes though, always maintaining the same look in his eye as the first night he met you - which should tell him that ... “I know how to talk to people!” Renjun gives you a look, pulling your bottom lip to get you to tell him the truth. “Okay, fine. I haven’t, in awhile, but I still made a friend today.” You grab his shirt, thumbing the cotton material between your fists, while you pout at him. “Be proud of me.”

Renjun takes the initiative, takes your build up, coming closer. “Always,” he whispers, then kisses you, rolling you over in the sheets for a long night. Without the textbooks.

[cyn-00]

Moreid one shot, 22 - "strings"

Another one inspired by season 5, episode 10 "The slave of duty", though with an entirely different focus compared to my other fic based on that same episode (which btw was my FIRST can u believe that)

I'm gonna remind you of a couple things that are important to understand this work (the plot of the episode/case aren't tbh): this is that period in the show where Morgan is taking Hotch's place in leading the team; plus Reid's been recently shot in the knee so he has his cane and everything. The first dialogue is word by word reported from the show and then I go from there ;)

@upsetti0spaghettiii and @rollcreditsyall asked me to tag 'em <3 hope u like it

Read it on AO3

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

"We need fresh eyes..." Rossi mumbled, more as if telling himself than the rest of the team.

Morgan acknowledged the older man's hint and sighed deeply, sinking further in his swivel chair. "A'ight, listen up,"

He continued once everyone's eyes darted up to him almost as quickly as they'd dart up to Hotch - which always lit Spencer up with pride, somehow.

"I want everybody to go back to the hotel and try to get some rest. We're gonna have to pick this up again in the morning."

Prentiss poorly contained a taken aback expression. "Wha- we're giving up?"

Reid was this close to piercing her skull with a laser-glare, because Morgan was RIGHT - how could she not see that they were getting nowhere? But then again: would've looked like he was playing the part of the blindly supportive boyfriend. Which, he never did.

"No." Morgan shot his head up to glance at her; albeit with anything but malice in his eyes. "We're gonna take a break. We have to give the profile at morning roll and none of us has slept since the funeral."

Realization; painted on Emily's features. Now do you see? Reid wanted to ask - he didn't, of course.

"Once Garcia can get us a paper trail, then we can expand our canvas. 'Till then there's really not a lot we can do." Morgan concluded, and silence fell in the room like a heavy blanket, smothering whatever other retort his teammates may raise.

-

Reid waited for the others to exit the room before standing up and making his way around the desk, straining against the searing pang that shot up from his healing knee at the motion.

He settled behind Morgan's chair and let his free arm loosely encircle him from behind, resting his palm on the man's broad, tense chest.

After unnecessarily checking once again that there weren't any nosy officers peeking from outside, he carefully bent down to reach Derek's temple and place a lingering kiss there.

"You did the right thing." he murmured, and immediately felt the other man releasing a breath at his words.

"I know." Derek responded shortly, finally moving from that concerningly petrified position to place his palm over Spencer's hand, pressing more firmly to discourage him from breaking contact.

Spencer allowed his tired eyes to flutter close for a few seconds as he rested his cheek on his boyfriend's head, relying on his trusted cane not to let him fall headlong on the moquette - "who's the idiot that decided putting moquette in a police station conference room was a good idea?", he recalled the comment Derek had whispered to his ear a few hours before, and he recalled thinking that only someone as obsessed with everything furniture-wise as Derek Morgan could notice and care about such a thing as a police station flooring. "Pfft... good luck with washing that if someone spills coffee".

The thought awakened him before it could bring a stupid, unbidden smile to his lips.

Washing. Soap, warm water, shampoo... he needed a well deserved-

"Shower." Derek's voice and the noise of lips briefly smacking on his palm resonated in the genius' half-asleep ears. "Need a shower."

Spencer smiled now. "Me too."

"I know. Could hear you thinkin' about it." Derek left another kiss on Spencer's wrist before gripping on the armrests to stand up, needing him to lift his warm cheek seemingly melting on the top of his head to do so.

"C'mon," he encouraged, turning around to finally take a look at the man's sleepy face.

"Gotta help Goldilocks here shampoo up." he grinned warmly, tilting his head.

Spencer only snorted, because with that damn smile what the hell could he say to the man.

-

Reid sighed deeply as he slumped onto the toilet lid, resting his cane against the tiled wall of the bathroom.

He took off his jacket and pulled his sweater vest over his head, and the second he began maneuvering with his tie, a pair of hands landed over his.

He glanced up slightly annoyed, but gave in to let those hands do the work nonetheless.

"It's the pants I struggle with, not the upper part of my body." he specified for the millionth time - the millionth time he'd found Derek helping him get out of his tie and shirt even though he could do that by himself just fine.

Morgan arched a brow and scoffed, keeping his gaze leveled with the collar of the other man's button-up. "What's in it for me if I don't at least get to undress my boy, uh?"

Spencer contained a smile, ducking his head to look at Derek's hands proceeding to undo the buttons once he'd slid the tie away.

"Not exactly the type of undressing you'd wished for, I'm guessing..." he mumbled sheepishly after a couple seconds.

Derek's eyebrows furrowed now. He said more with those eyebrows of his than he did with his words.

"Any type of undressing you is the type of undressing I wish for..." he trailed off, and Spencer noticed his shirt had magically slid off of his shoulders and was being untucked from his slacks.

Derek's smile grew as his pupils traced from the skinny man's hips up to his chest and laced with his eyes at last.

"It's that I enjoy the view regardless, pretty boy." he added winking, before placing a kiss right over the man's heart.

Spencer didn't say anything. His usual "whatever you say" or the like would only supply him with Derek's eye-roll and another cascade of cheesy praising followed by Spencer's impulse to kiss him and then a few other things which he didn't have the physical strength to engage in, in that moment.

So he settled for thinking those things, lost in his own head while his eyes followed each one of Derek's careful motions that only resulted in layers and layers of clothing peeling off of his body, unable to pinpoint when exactly he had propped up to let the man pull his pants down to his ankles.

The only thing he managed to feel, right after the piercing cold ceramic under his thighs once his slacks were no longer cladding them, was the noise of the brace straps and the sensation of it freeing his leg and then-

"Ouch- Waitwaitwait, Der- wait" he pleaded through gritted teeth, as a twinge of pain awakened him from his pleasant reverie.

"I'm sorry baby, I know this part always hurts like hell" Derek said, and they both knew the 'part' he was referring to was the one where Spencer had to stretch his leg, numb and strained from having it caged in that hellish plastic brace for hours straight.

Spencer nodded and let his boyfriend do the rest - the first couple times he had tried to protest and get through everything on his own, feeling nothing short of a burden and decidedly embarrassed. Now, though, he knew there was no point in arguing, not simply because arguing with Derek when it came to taking care of Spencer was pointless to say the very least; but mostly because Derek was inexplicably good at taking care of him. Doctor Reid could surely brag about his PhDs, but Derek seemed to own every medical training in the world when he had to care for Spencer's pain.

-

The other man rose to his feet for a few seconds, taking the forgotten plastic stool in the corner of the room and placing it in the shower, before starting the water to get it as warm as Spencer liked it. Which meant, 3rd-degree-burn warm.

He returned to kneel in front of the naked genius in his briefs and mismatched socks only, smiling fondly at the sight.

He gently grabbed Spencer's ankles to slip off his socks - it made his toes curl and Derek adored it - and wrapped his strong arms around his boyfriend's skinny torso to pull him up to his bare feet.

Spencer only slightly hissed and grasped onto Derek's shoulders like his life depended on it - which, it kinda did, seeing how the worryingly sharp edge of the marble bathroom counter seemed to be waiting just for the man to wobble under the weight of his recently wounded knee.

Derek hooked his fingers in the elastic band of his boyfriend's underwear and let it fall to the floor so the other could step out of it - just a week ago that same, easy action almost cost Spencer to trip over and smash his skull straight into the sliding glass door of his shower; but Derek pushed that memory away because acting like the overly protective boyfriend wasn't gonna make things any better or easier, anyway.

It's just. Spencer was so fragile. There was no denying that. His brain was worth all their brains added together if not more, but dammit could a bruise stain his fair skin for weeks on end; reason why they'd given up on hickeys a long time ago - at least visible ones - in light of the fact that ever-lasting purple marks weren't exactly a good idea in their line of work.

"Derek, uhm, I'm taking a wild guess your fully clothed self doesn't know how cold it is in this bathroom, but, it's cold." Spencer's complaint brought him out of his head.

He looked down at himself and, indeed, he was fully clothed still.

"Wanna bet that I won't be as cold as you? You just like to whine a lot don't you?" Derek teased, pulling his henley off.

"It would be decidedly stupid of me to bet on such obviousness ? It's granted that you won't feel as cold as me considering that I'm skinnier; muscle heats up the body through metabolism as well as fat which works as an insulating-"

Reid's babbling was cut off by the man's laughter.

"...what? What's so funny?"

"I finally got naked for you and that's still not enough to stop your fact-spewing?"

Derek saw Spencer gulping and scanning him from head to toe.

"...right" he murmured, biting the inside of his cheek.

Morgan brought the other's pink-tinted face back up with his hands, lifting his gaze from where it was lingering on some undefined area very much below his usual approximately 5'8-something horizon line, and placed a kiss between his eyebrows.

"Come on. I ain't gonna risk you getting a cold on top of everything else." he said softly, securing Spencer's waist with two hands from behind to lead him first into the shower.

And thank God that one was an actual shower, instead of that bathtub the two of them barely fit in with a half-unhooked plastic curtain from that crappy motel the team found themselves having to spend a whole 6 days in, just a couple weeks before. And thank God for the stool, also, because helping Spencer through a shower while either standing or sitting on the floor were provenly exhausting techniques for both of them.

Derek eased his boyfriend into said stool and could immediately see him relaxing under the warm water. He dropped on his knees and started untangling the man's matted curls with his fingers - Spencer had confessed that, before Derek, he only used to untangle the knots with a comb after having showered because he didn't have the time or patience to do otherwise, but Morgan had rightfully reminded him that he had not one but two sisters, hence he was so used to observe how carefully their mom routinely brushed and braided their hair when they were little he could repeat the process by heart - so at the end of the day, "I might be bald but I sure know more about curls than you do, pretty boy".

After having managed to loosen maybe a couple of major tangles at most - nothing out of the ordinary - he reached for the shampoo and squeezed a generous amount on his palm, smearing it on both hands before spreading it onto Spencer's mop of hair.

Morgan had always wondered how the hell the kid always smelt so good; the rare times he could perceive something other than the cozy smell of coffee that almost perpetually imbued Spencer's aura. For some unfounded reason, his first guess had been that the source of such sweet smell must've been Spencer's cologne. After a month at most of knowing him, though, the hypothesis that the lanky genius with the crooked tie and that cardigan Morgan couldn't picture as anyone else's but his grandfather's actually wore cologne, was thrown out of the window. So he'd quite confidently settled for option B, which entailed that the scent had to have something to do with the detergent he used for his clothes. Little did he know he would find himself in Reid's bathroom some night after a case, and his eyes would be caught by a plastic, peach-pink bottle of shampoo that, to his "surprise", smelled like...like Spencer. Like something sweet and fruity with a spicy hint of cinnamon. And it's not like Morgan wasn't aware of the notorious, rom-com cliché that the aphrodisiac smell of the person you're hopelessly pining over is more likely due to their shampoo than anything else; it's more that he didn't want to give in the realization that not only Spencer's hair looked good - and, much later on, felt good twirled around his fingers - but on top of that it smelt good. Oh, dammit, my crush's hair smells like heaven which only adds to the fact that he probably fell from there, seeing how it makes him look like a downright ANGEL. Come on. Supervisory Special Agent Derek Morgan would've preferred without a smidge of doubt to remain unbeknownst of that, for the sake of his poor heart.

Poor heart, indeed, when Spencer started literally purring close-eyed under the soothingly kneading motions of Derek's digits through his hair. There was really no reason to keep on massaging the shampoo on Spencer's scalp for 5 minutes straight, if not that sight.

"Spencer?" he called, failing to contain the urge to lean in and peck at his lips.

"Hmm ?" the dopey man hummed in response.

"Sweetie, don't fall asleep on me here, yeah?"

" 'm trying. But you're not helping." Spencer mumbled, rubbing his eyes with his fingers from the water streaming down his face to open them in slits.

"Ah, so now it's my fault that you get all dreamy when I play with your hair?"

Spencer frowned. "Uhm, yes ?"

The other man chuckled. "Alright. Got the message." he claimed before standing briefly to his feet to grab the sprayer.

"Mmh' no this is even worse..." Spencer mewled when his boyfriend started rinsing his hair with warm water, running his fingers through it to be as thorough as possible.

Derek burst out laughing. "You're unbelievable, I swear to God." he said, making quick work of the rinsing process or else he would've undoubtedly have to drag a passed out, naked Spencer out of the shower.

He put the sprayer back in place and took the shower gel - he had to use the unscented, cheap, exceedingly liquid sample from the hotel - and poured it on his palm.

Spencer held out his hands in a cup-like shape as if waiting for Derek to give him a share of the gel. He looked up at him and arched a brow.

The genius rolled his eyes. "If you don't provide me with something to do I'm gonna seriously fall asleep in here."

Derek nodded and complied. "Lame excuse."

"For what?" the other asked like he didn't know when actually he knew.

"For laying your hands on me?" Derek teased with his 'you can't fool me' tone. "But I ain't complaining, just so we're clear..." he smirked.

After that, Spencer gave up on countering further but his expression didn't waver much; and Derek couldn't even relish in the satisfaction of holding that comment 100% accountable for the flush dyeing Spencer's chest and neck, because it could've very well been mostly due to the steam and hot water.

Both started spreading the gel onto each other's shoulders and necks and torsos, and Morgan wouldn't have managed to tear his gaze away from the skinny man sat in front of him even if he'd purposely tried. Spencer's concentrated expression was the same whether he was solving Schrödinger's equation or he was stirring his coffee with a spoon.

Hazel eyes locked with Derek's after a while, only for a split second before their owner launched himself into his arms; a soapy hand cupping the back of his neck and a warm muzzle burying in his slippery shoulder.

Derek didn't question and simply indulged in the hug, tracing circles with his thumbs on the nubs of Spencer's spine as he let his cheek lean against the top of his head.

"Thank you." a muffled whisper breached through the continuous noise of water thrumming on ceramic and glass and steel surfaces.

"Stop thanking me, kid. I love you." how many times had Morgan found himself saying those exact words, if maybe arranged in different fashions, throughout 5 years of working with Reid? Only difference was that the last bit hadn't always born the meaning it bore now. Almost, though.

After one or two minutes more - Derek couldn't quite gauge, and the fact that Spencer most definitely could brought a slight smile to his lips - Reid let go of the hug; and it was only because being soaked from head to toe blurred out things a little that Morgan couldn't swear the man was a second away from crying.

Reid looked down at his wrinkly finger pads.

"We're wasting an unnecessary amount of water." he said with a small grin curling one edge of his mouth. If Spencer's previous expression rendered almost unreadable by that soaked-head-to-toe situation hadn't been enough to go by, his current tone and the look that went along with it surely were.

However, Morgan didn't mention it, and the couple spent the rest of the shower rinsing the bubbles off of their bodies in soothing quiet.

-

The comfortable quiet kept going unhindered as Derek helped Spencer up and out of the shower, as he wrapped a towel around his bony hips, as Spencer brushed his dripping hair with a wooden comb while watching the standing man put on his sweats and t-shirt. Their exchanges merely fond glances here and hands caressing cheeks there and fingers bumping on skins like silent reminders that they were together in this just as much as in everything else that might come in their way and break them, whether inside or out or both it didn't matter as long as they were Spencer and Derek and Derek and Spencer.

And so together they walked out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, both pleasantly surprised by how they managed to not let Spencer slip on the steam-coated floor.

In a matter of minutes he was sitting on the edge of the mattress, which wasn't nearly as uncomfortable as sitting on the crappy stool or the toilet lid, much to Spencer's relief.

And Spencer Reid was notoriously not one to count his chickens before they'd hatched, but this time...

"Oh baby...does it still hurt so bad?" Morgan asked with full-on worry creasing his handsome features, at the sight of his boyfriend screwing his eyes shut and clenching his jaw while his leg bounced up and down - the leg not injured, that is. He'd caught Spencer doing that sometimes during work and he'd quickly figured it was his way to cope with pangs.

Spencer simply nodded his head frantically and grabbed both the man's hands to squeeze them in a knuckle-whitening clutch.

His boyfriend's sigh was so deep Spencer didn't need to actually see to picture the rising and falling of his chest as visible to the naked eye.

"I'm gonna get the pills the doctor prescribed you and I don't wanna hear you complain." the man asserted.

The second Reid felt him on the verge of standing up, he squeezed his hands even tighter and made an effort to open his eyes.

"No, nonono I- I took it 2 and a half hours ago I can't take anymore for another hour and a half at least." he protested, shaking his head vigorously and staring pleadingly at him.

Morgan sighed again, and this time Reid could see it.

"Ok, alright, then...did you bring that ointment he gave you?"

Spencer's pupils fidgeted around in thought.

"Yeah. Y- yeah, I- I have that in my bag." he replied, stuttering with the abruptness of his realization.

Derek stood up for real now, fetching said ointment.

He came back a minute later and resumed his kneeling position, squeezing some of the balm on his fingers and warming it up by rubbing his hands. He started massaging it onto his boyfriend's knee, and the heavy mass weighing on his chest was lifted like magic when Spencer's muscles relaxed and his deadly grip on the blankets loosened.

Another 'thank you' was about to escape Spencer's mouth, but then he opted to swallow it and instead relish in the sensation of Derek's thumbs rubbing the slick balm in circles at either side of his wounded kneecap; watching him as though if he didn't keep an eye on him he would disappear.

He didn't know how much time had passed, because that was one of those few occasions he'd allowed himself not to keep count of things - most of those occasions were the ones he spent with Derek - but it must have been quite a while because by the time Derek spoke up again, the pain had melted away and his knee was glistening and warm and his heart was fuzzy and vibrating inside his ribcage.

"Better?" the man asked.

Spencer waited a second for him to raise his gaze from the task at hand and direct it toward his, and for the smile that he knew was coming to actually come, before answering.

When that happened, he said: "Definitely."

And if Derek's grin didn't widen it was just because it couldn't get bigger than half of his face, and because it had to be a crime to smile more brightly than that.

"Alright then. Gonna get cleaned up and then I'll help you with pj's."

Spencer opened his mouth to dismiss his offer but was immediately cut off by a finger raised threateningly at him.

"Nope. I don't wanna hear it, I told you." Derek reprimanded before heading to the bathroom.

-

The few minutes Morgan spent washing his hands and pacing around the room to get the other's t-shirt and flannel pants were enough for the warm and fuzzy feeling to seep out of Reid's skin and be replaced by unsettling thoughts he never enjoyed wallowing in, but especially not in that moment.

It was exactly that same feeling from earlier reoccurring to him, the feeling that if he let Derek out of his sight for a second he would lose him - more specifically Derek would leave him. And of course during work the time they spent apart was much more than the one they spent together, but in a working context it was simply...different. Different in a way Spencer couldn't name. It was when they were alone that the feeling came back to choke him with its evil claws; and it was such a foreign one considering that Reid had spent most of his childhood AND adulthood alone, so one would simply guess he was used to it. Maybe it was exactly that: that he'd got so used to being alone he couldn't help but cling onto the first thing that made him not alone, and if in the beginning that thing had been his team and later on the team stopped being enough and it became Dilaudid, now that thing was Derek, and Derek was more than enough for the time being - Spencer was pretty confident he would be enough for the rest of his life, but what if it weren't mutual ? What if Spencer wasn't enough for Derek - for that matter, how could Spencer be enough for anyone? What if Derek left ?

"-encer? Baby you good in there?"

Then what would the next thing be and would a 'next thing' even exist or should he just settle for being alone all over again, only this time he would know the feeling of NOT being alone - would he ever recover from that?

"Hey, kid, c'mon now,"

Could he forget what it had felt like not being alone and learn to suffice for himself?

"Spencer seriously, talk to me ?"

Could Spencer Reid learn to finally FORGET if forgetting meant surviving?

"Spencer, come on baby you're starting to scare me here."

Reid ultimately managed to snap out of his head and realize Morgan had been trying to pull him out of it all along. He felt a hand cradling his jaw and words reaching his eardrums and his name being called in endless sequence.

He shook his head and gaped for a few seconds.

"Yeah, I'm- I'm here, sorry I- just, I was...thinking, I'm sorry..." he swallowed and jerked his eyes away from Derek's because the look he was giving him was a bit too much.

Morgan released a heavy exhale, as his hand shifted to rest on the back of Reid's head, massaging his nape to ground him again.

"Sorry."

"Don't start. Just tell me what you were thinking."

A grimace of reluctance crinkled Spencer's sweet face. "...do I have to?"

"Yes." Derek asserted. "Puppy-eyes won't work this time."

Spencer bit his lip to contain a lopsided, amused smile.

"Well," he shrugged. "it was worth the shot."

Derek snorted in response, visibly relaxing at having managed to reclaim their usual playful banter.

The other man was grateful that Morgan hadn't pried, instead reaching a hand out beside the spot where Spencer was sitting to grab his fresh pair of briefs. The warm-fuzzy feeling partially found its way back through Spencer's bloodstream at the thought that Derek probably knew by now how he was more likely to talk brake-free and open heartedly when he wasn't being overtly pressured to do so.

-

Derek carefully untucked the towel from around Spencer's hips and rose to a half-standing position to prop him up a few inches from the bed and slide it away from underneath him. He helped the man's long legs inside his underwear and lifted him once again to pull it up; he took the slightly moist towel and used it to ruffle Spencer's hair in the attempt to wipe it dry a little - again: a cold wasn't the greatest idea at the moment - gaining his signature nose scrunch and finally, Spencer started spilling.

"I was thinking about this whole...situation." Reid murmured with a sigh.

Morgan considered his words for a few seconds - uncaring of having probably given the man the impression that he wasn't listening - while minutely un-messing the strands of brunette, damp hair he'd messed up with the towel and adjusting them behind Spencer's ears.

"Meaning?" he asked at last; more to give the man the liberty of elaborating how he wanted than because he hadn't picked up on the 'situation' he was referring to.

"Meaning...you taking on Hotch's role temporarily ?" Spencer supplied, raising his pitch at the end as though it were a question.

"What about it, sweetie?" he urged on gently, stopping his ministrations to rub his hands up and down Spencer's sides affectionately.

"I, uh..." Reid cleared his voice. "I just realized that- well, m- maybe it's that I didn't want to think about it so that's why I'm realizing it only now but, anyway; I realized that if...if Hotch isn't coming back..." he trailed off, looking down at his knees.

Derek took the hint and started moving again, picking Spencer's flannel pants and guiding his feet inside them.

Spencer waited for the lift-and-pull-up part to be over - because it was too draining to do that AND talk simultaneously - before conjuring his train of thought again.

"If Hotch doesn't come back, you'll be the new Unit Chief." Reid said, once he was sitting down.

Morgan hesitated, furrowing his brows in confusion as to why Reid would feel the need to state the obvious.

"Yeah." he simply confirmed.

Spencer visibly refrained from explaining, choosing to spend the next few seconds picking at the worn fabric of his pajama pants - now that he wasn't naked anymore and finally had something to fiddle with - sticking uncomfortably to the layer of ointment covering his knee.

As per usual, Morgan's brain was struggling to keep up with his boyfriend's pondering.

But then it hit him.

"Oh..." Derek dropped his gaze; his confused and apprehensive expression fading away to make space for a melancholic and apologetic one.

"...yeah" Spencer murmured. But then decided that a monosyllabic answer wasn't enough, and opted to unfold his thoughts more clearly.

"It means that...that you'll be our superior- my superior, hence we couldn't...you and I, we, we won't be allowed to..." he gulped. He knew his bottom lip was trembling. He could feel it. But he had to say it, or else the concept would eat him alive.

"...to be together anymore. Right?" Spencer concluded with a quivering voice.

Derek wanted to get back to doing what he was supposed to be doing to give them both some more seconds to digest that, but for some reason he feared that if he'd proceeded to help Spencer in his last piece of clothing, the man would've looked even more vulnerable and small in that saggy t-shirt than he did now that he was bare in any sense of the word in front of him.

So he slowly brushed his hands down Spencer's lap to entangle them with his.

"...unless I choose not to." he mumbled.

The genius' scowling glance shot up.

"What?? No. No, I won't let you do that."

Morgan sighed, tilting his head. "Spencer-"

"No, Derek. I couldn't live with myself knowing that you turned down the greatest job opportunity of your life to stay with me."

And that much was the truest statement Spencer had ever made, even if the only thought of breaking up with Derek made every cell in his body ache and his heart bleed out and his bones shatter like a china cup dropping on a granite floor.

Derek stared at him for a while with flat-out disbelief pasted on his face.

"Spencer," he started, and immediately shook his head, unable to contain a snort. Spencer's frown didn't but intensify at that.

"Kid, look. I know that you'd respect my decision to accept the job. I know it because you're one of the most ambitious and over-achieving people I know and I feel nothing but blessed to have someone like you by my side." he paused. "You inspire me in that sense, you know?"

Spencer didn't answer, but his gaze softened instinctively.

"But it's because I know you respect everything I do that I'd be disappointed to know that you made the exception to NOT support me if I decided to turn down the offer."

The words hit Spencer in a certain spot at the base of his skull, but he couldn't bring himself to be ungrateful for Derek being so honest and blunt about the matter.

So he nodded.

Derek continued, because he wasn't convinced at all that the man had got the message.

"And believe me when I say that the reason why I wouldn't accept it isn't because I pity you or I don't wanna leave 'poor Spencer' alone or whatever." he made the air-quote gesture and untangled a hand from Spencer's to bring it to his cheek.

"It's because to me accepting a title that by the way, I'm not even 100% sure that I want, it's not worth leaving the person I'm in love with."

With that last bit, Derek didn't need to forcibly bring his boyfriend's chin up to meet his eyes - Spencer had instantly done that on his own initiative.

"I would NOT be able to leave you, Spencer. For my sake, not out of pity. I know myself." he whispered, stroking his thumb on the other's cheek.

Spencer kept returning the other's stare for what they both perceived like 30 minutes, in search for the slightest hint of lie in Derek's eyes. Which, obviously, he gladly failed to summon.

So he inched closer and pressed their lips together, because kissing Derek seemed like the easier way to both reply to his confession and stop his bottom lip from trembling with the force of emotion welling up in his eyes.

Derek's mouth went along as his arms encircled his boyfriend's dainty frame to carefully shift him closer, until his body was the only thing keeping him from falling off the mattress. He captured every silky motion of Spencer's tongue with unmatched slowness; as if the more thorough the kiss, the better he could savor the man's unspoken words and enshrine them forever in his mind, only fueling his already unarguable conviction that no, he couldn't let this man slip away like it wasn't him that kept Derek's lungs breathing and his heart pounding and his limbs working.

-

With one last smack of lips Spencer gasped out of the kiss, keeping their foreheads glued together and his eyes shuttered because it was clear now that he didn't need to see the man to know he wouldn't leave, but his skin couldn't do without the feeling of Derek's against it nonetheless.

Slowly, he opened his lids and noticed the pair of pitch-black eyes in front of his were staring at him.

He smiled when he spotted a bright glimmer deep inside them, and was returned with a smile of Derek's own.

"Plus," Morgan's hoarse voice gently poked through the silence, as both his hands rose to cup the other's face.

"I know we shouldn't profile each other and all that, but dad really doesn't know what to do with himself when he's not with us, so my money's on him coming back." he joked.

Spencer burst in the prettiest giggle Derek had ever heard and let his head fall onto the other's shoulder.

"Y-yeah, mine too." he agreed once he'd recomposed himself enough to straighten in his seat again.

"Let's put this t-shirt on and go to sleep, uh?" Derek offered.

The genius nodded, and in a matter of 5 minutes at most, the two were a mess of entangled limbs - both injured and not - instants away from falling asleep; with a few less doubts stinging their hearts and just as many newfound strings keeping them together.

[kpopfanfictrash]

Fire and Darkness

Member: Seokjin (BTS)

Prompt: Song!drabble, inspired by You Should See Me in a Crown, Bilie Eillish 

Rating: PG-13

Idea: Persephone!Y/N + Hades!Seokjin

WC: 2,421

↳ part of my 30K milestone drabble game

“More wine?” Seokjin offers, politely dabbing his lips with a dark, linen napkin.

The entire table is elegantly set with fine silver plating and red bouquets of poppies. Poppies are your mother’s favorite flower, although you could have told Seokjin she would remain unimpressed. Demeter regards the dinner before her with the stiff boredom of the upper class, deigning to dine with the lesser.

“No, thank you.” Deliberate, the goddess sets down her fork. “I rarely indulge when I travel. Tell me, daughter,” she says, turning to you. “How go things in the Underworld?”

Demeter says the word Underworld in the same way some might say vermin. Arching a brow, Seokjin faces you in tandem. His lips are pressed tightly together, as though he is trying to hold in his laughter.

“The same as usual,” you say with a shrug. “Fire. Torture. Lots of dead people.”

Seokjin’s lips twitch, though he remains silent. His dark aura is prominent, rolling off him in waves. When you first met, you found this to be intimidating but now, his power is merely a comfort to you. A solid reassurance he sits there beside you.

Demeter winces at your bluntness. “Well.” Lifting a small piece of ambrosia, she daintily chews. “At least there are only three months left of your banishment, daughter. Soon, you’ll be home where you belong. On Mount Olympus.”

Seokjin’s grip on his knife tightens. 

He harbors no love lost for Olympus, for the brothers who cast him out with nary a thought. You hold little love for the mountain either, but this is a fact Demeter chooses to ignore.

“Yes, of course,” you say, reaching out for your glass. The dark gemstones of your diadem glimmer when you turn your head. “I welcome the day.”

If your mother truly listened, she would hear the lie in your voice, but Demeter either does not, or will not. Seokjin does, though. His gaze permeates the dark haze of the room; he is looking at you, always looking at you. This is his dominion, after all – the depths of the Underworld. The endless shadow realm with which he was tasked to rule. It is his Kingdom which Demeter insults. Your Kingdom, as well, for six months of the year.

This was the bargain struck behind both of your backs.

Releasing a sigh, Demeter adjusts her fork on the table. “I am sorry this had to be done, darling,” she says, reaching out for your hand. Although you stiffen, you try not to bite back. “Leaving you down here with him... such a horrible God in such a dastardly place…”

Seokjin lifts a brow. “Horrible, yes. Deaf? Sadly not.”

Demeter continues as though he has not spoken. “Trust me,” she says. “I’m doing everything in my power to convince the Pantheon of your return.”

“Oh, please.” Yanking your hand back, you cut into your meal. “As though you weren’t part of the decision to send me here. You wanted to marry me off to the Underworld. You hoped I would mother a new God.”

Your marriage was a surprise to you, although it shouldn’t have been. These things do happen occasionally. The main pantheon of Gods convene and force the marriage of the lesser, hoping for a child who might bolster their ranks. You know this is what happened to you, even if no one will say it outright. 

Demeter’s cheeks turn a faint shade of pink. “That is not why you were sent here.”

“Oh?” Equally delicately, you set your silverware down. “So, am I to believe the official version? The human version? The one where Seokjin saw me, kidnapped me and tied me to his bedposts – yes?”

“Completely inaccurate.” Seokjin continues to chew. “I only tie those to my bed who ask to be tied there.”

You continue glaring at Demeter. “We all know the truth, mother. Let us not play pretend.”

Seokjin’s smile widens at your fierceness. He loves it when you get like this; when you are boiling over with purpose and passion. It was one of the first compliments he gave you. This was after your wedding, spoken out of surprise – that someone as seemingly delicate as you were could command such fierce anger.

Gaze narrowed, you meet your mother’s stare head-on. “Do not enter our home and proceed to spout lies.”

“Our.” Demeter’s lips thin. “My, that did not take long. How quickly the world changes, darling.”

“Does it?” You reach out, tracing a line down the petals of a poppy. Instantly, the blood-red veins brighten. “I have never truly felt Mount Olympus was my home. Not in the same way you do. I am not one of the twelve. I am not in charge of anything big, nor important and I was treated as such. Here, though...” 

You leave your thought unfinished. Lifting your gaze to your mother’s, you settle back in your seat. The darkness becomes you, glinting off your crown.

Demeter clenches her jaw. “You act as though the Underworld is preferable to Olympus.”

“Olympus has never been kind to me.”

“Nor to me.” Casually, Seokjin swirls his wine. “Namjoon has always been rather touchy about the sky and Taehyung, the sea. It is not as though I chose this land to govern, you know. Of course you do,” he says, his upper lip curled. “You were there in the beginning, Demeter.”

Demeter draws herself taller. “And yet,” she says, facing him for the very first time. “You seem to have done well enough for yourself.”

Seokjin’s smile widens. 

Through the floor-to-ceiling windows behind him, a river of glowing fire is visible. Steam curls wherever lava touches obsidian, gemstones glimmering on either side. It is a stunning visual, if a somewhat unconventional one. There is nothing like it on Mount Olympus.

“I make do,” Seokjin says simply.

Sniffing, Demeter pushes her chair back to stand. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to stay for that nightcap,” she says, her hands folded before her. Soft, violet light radiates from her form. “I must return to my duties.”

“Pity.” Your chair screeches when you stand, yet you pay this no mind. “The visit was too short.”

Demeter’s eyes narrow as she nods, as though in agreement. Turning around, she glides across the floor.

In any other domain, Demeter would simply vanish at will. Not in the Underworld though, where beings can only come and go at Seokjin’s behest. Gods and mortals alike must exit in the same manner – rowed across the river Styx by Charon, beneath the gaping jaws of Cerberus.

Seokjin watches your mother leave, a polite smile on his lips. When the door closes behind her, echoing through the room, he holds up a hand. Seokjin waits, listening for something before his body relaxes.

“She’s gone,” he says, glancing your way. “Just exited the palace. Charon will take it from there.”

Still staring at the door, you pull yourself from your thoughts. Turning around, you push your mother from mind as you stride towards the window. Each step you take transforms your clothes, lengthening and darkening from the springtime colors you know your mother prefers. Loosening your hair, you let this fall to your neck.

Coming to a stop, you survey the world at your feet. On your first day in the Underworld, you were determined to hate it. There were no pleasant stories about the darkest of Gods. Seokjin was rumored to be moody and fierce, with the gall of enjoying the hellish Kingdom he ruled.

Of course – as it is with most things concerning the Gods – Seokjin was not as he seemed.

He was moody, yes and he could be fierce when provoked. Never to you though, which you saw right away. The Gods warned you he loved to play games and so, when you met, you had your guard up.

Despite this, he greeted you at the gates for your arrival. Your first day was a tour; Seokjin led you through the Underworld with the same reserved politeness as a tour guide on holiday.

You saw none of his legendary fire and brimstone then – Seokjin merely nodded, leading you around the palace. His realm was nothing at all like what you’d imagined. The other Gods only spoke of the Underworld disparagingly, with a tinge of fear to their tone. They said Seokjin’s Kingdom was the land of dead things, of cold things, but now you know better.

The Underworld is a realm of fire and darkness, of whimsy and spirit – there are no limits within as to what you can achieve. In the reflection of the palace window, you see Seokjin walk up alongside you.

His appearance has also changed with the departure of Demeter. Instead of his company garments, Seokjin is dressed in a plain tunic and trousers. His hair is darker, messier and framing his face. No jewelry adorns his body, save for the gold band upon his finger.

Upon reaching your side, Seokjin glances sideways. “Are you alright?” 

Slowly, you nod. Still staring at the wasteland, your gaze roams molten lakes, rugged mountains and glimmering terrain. Beyond the river Phlegethon, which cuts through the gardens, lies the region of Tartarus wherein rest the damned. Seokjin keeps them close by, lest they escape and harm the rest of the Underworld.

The rest of your kingdom is nothing like this. Elysium is by far your favorite part of your domain – full of golden meadows which smell of baked bread, fields of asphodel which bloom in whimsical colors. Seokjin loves to change them at his fancy. He loves it even more when you do the same.

All other Gods reign over the living. They control whatever handful of mortals populate its surface and yet, beneath it all, you and Seokjin are masters of creation.

Nodding, you turn. “I am,” you assure, stepping closer.

Reaching out, Seokjin delicately tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. He looks at you tenderly, despite the fire to his gaze. In response, a blistering heat spreads over your body. Before you met Seokjin, you didn’t understand this connection. You only knew of want, of need – never of this. Never of love.

The first few months in his land were admittedly lonely. Seokjin gave you space, staying as far away from the palace as possible. He thought he was granting you a favor by this; he thought you hated him, like the rest of the Gods.

With time though, the ice between you began to thaw. Your glances lengthened in nature, touches softened and lingered. Before you knew what was happening, you were paying attention. 

You found Seokjin not as serious as the rest of the Gods said. Most of his fierceness was reserved for his domain. When he was not ruling, Seokjin dearly loved to laugh. One night he said he loved your laugh the most.

When you returned to Olympus, you didn’t realize how difficult the separation would be.

You thought you would enjoy being home. You imagined when you came back things would return to normal, but the shadows of Seokjin clung to your existence. Most nights you lay awake and imagined his touch. Most days, your thoughts strayed to his arms, to his kisses and the inexorable sound of his laughter.

Without him, the halls of Olympus felt strangely empty.

You only saw him once during those long summer months – the solstice; a night where all gods gathered on Mount Olympus to celebrate. Even Seokjin was to attend, the mighty God of the Underworld, who rarely left his realm of darkness.

The moment he set foot on the mountain, you knew. You could feel his presence in your bones, you glanced up when he entered and found him looking at you. When your gazes met, he softened. When you saw him, you strengthened.

And then, you realized everyone around you had stiffened. That was when you saw Olympus for what it truly was. As the bride of the Underworld, you finally saw how they treated him. Seokjin was a God. He was a member of the Pantheon, one of the most powerful beings in existence and yet, he was held separate.

Seeing how cruel the Olympians were tore you apart; it replaced the ache in your chest with a fierce desire.

When your six months of penance were over, you fairly flung yourself across the river Styx. Seokjin waited calmly when you ran into his arms. That was the moment you realized where you belonged. 

At home – with him.

Tilting your chin upwards, you meet Seokjin’s gaze. “You aren’t horrible, you know.”

He raises a brow. “How rude,” he says as he draws you near. “I don’t come into your home and insult your better nature.”

“This is my home.”

“Oh, right.” Seokjin hovers above your mouth. “The sentiment stands.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” you chide, sliding hands up his back.

Seokjin shivers – the fearsome lord of the Underworld, undone by your touch. “I wouldn’t,” he admits, bending to brush his nose with yours.

Satisfied, your grip on him tightens. Since you fell in love, you have found parts of yourself which lay dormant before. You uncovered a carnal, seductive woman who takes what she desires. Before, you always asked for permission. Before, you always waited for permission to be granted.

With Seokjin though, you’re his Queen and there is no need to ask. He encourages you to act on your desires – insists upon it.

Tilting your head, you brush your lips with his. The moment before your lips touch, something inexplicable crosses his expression. Something almost like uncertainty, which gives you pause.

“What is it?” you say, pulling back.

Seokjin hesitates, which is unusual. Although he is quiet, Seokjin speaks his mind freely to you. Still, the shadows behind him seem to lengthen with each passing second.

“Do you…” His normally stoic gaze flickers. “Do you wish Demeter to be successful?”

“What do you mean?” 

Seokjin strokes your cheek with his thumb. “The rest of the Pantheon put you here. My brothers put you here. It was not your choice to marry me, even if I did not ask. Do you ever… wish to return?”

Your answer requires no pause. “No.”

“No?”

“No,” you say, stepping closer. Pressing your chest to his, you look up. “My burden is not what you imagine it to be.”

“No?” Seokjin seems mildly amused by your certainty. “Pray tell.”

“Perhaps it was at first,” you admit, wanting to be honest. “I didn’t want to leave the world I knew. But now...” You glance past him, to where the river Phlegethon cuts a golden path through the gardens. It sends a strange hum of rightness through you. “I would not be anywhere else. My burden now is being parted from you,” you whisper, returning to Seokjin.

Hope flickers, however brief, within his dark gaze.

“You brought me to life,” you say, hands sliding up his back. “With you,” you add, meeting his gaze. “I finally feel like myself.”

Something sparks in him then, lowering his beautiful brow to yours. “You are the only alive thing in this world,” he murmurs, his lips brushing your skin. “If I played the smallest part in this, my Queen, then consider me satisfied.”

“Satisfied?” you purr, lips lifted in a smile.

Seokjin’s dark gaze turns carnal. “Never,” he confesses, kissing you deeply.

   © kpopfanfictrash, 2019. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[realm-sweet-realm]

Prison Cell, Chapter 3

Sorry this took so long- it got so long that I had to split it into two parts. Anyhow, from this point forwards, you can expect a lot of violence, so be warned. This chapter will have a lot of interpersonal stuff, and the final chapter will be pretty much entirely action.

---

Sammy unlocked the door. On the other side of it was a demon. The demon. The one that had stolen her blood.

Its body was humanoid and wearing a suit and white bow tie, but its hands were made of ink. The top of its head was covered in black ink, which spiraled up into horns and spilled down its face, leaving only its mustache, mouth and chin visible. Seeing it in the light for the first time, Susie recognized it as the bottom of Joey’s face.

“Joey?” Susie asked, her voice full of wonder and fear.

“Once,” the demon said, and its voice was not Joey Drew’s. It deep, and rough, and horrible. “But I have taken over. Don’t worry- I don’t want this any more than he does. Once I find a way to separate humans from ink, I’ll go back to my dimension and free all of you to yours.” The demon turned and beckoned Susie to follow him. “Come.”

The demon led Susie through the basement, seemingly one large room full of very strange things. Pentagrams littered the floor. Scattered iron cages contained a few emaciated, ink-covered people. Shelves full of sharp tools and unknowable ingredients lined the walls.

“I can still hear him, you know,” the demon mused, taking a syringe and a number of bottles from a shelf, “Joey. His mind. I can see into him. Learn how to manipulate humans. I asked him how to crush your insurrection, and he said that I’d need to destroy your little story.”

The demon led Susie to a door and opened it, and when he did, she lost all her breath.

It was Norman, chained to the far wall. He was wearing the same clothes he had been when he was taken away several weeks ago, but now they were hanging off of him at sharp angles. Susie ran to him, and he cringed away from her. He didn’t want her to see him like this, or to feel how thin and bony he’d gotten.

“What did you do him!?” Susie demanded.

“Nothing beyond the obvious. You see, you thought that some of you could overcome us with physical power. That was your story- that your hope and your resilience would lead to freedom. I needed to show you that rebellion only forces me to take your strength. This isn’t something I wanted to do. Strong, healthy people do better work, and unfortunately Joey’s desire to manage the studio is in me. But... you forced my hand.”

The demon then pulled Susie Campbell up by the collar, pushed her against the wall, and put the syringe to her throat.

“He can’t protect you now,” the demon explained, perfectly calm. “His ability to do so was always under my control, and you made me take it away.”

All Norman could do was bury his head in his hands and listen to her whimper. The chains were too short for him to reach her, and he didn’t stand a chance against the demon anyhow. Not like this. The demon released her blood into one of the bottles, then reinserted the needle, working at an unhurried pace. He repeated the motion several times before letting her go. She fell onto her hands and knees, faint from blood loss.

---

Utterly haunted, Sammy escorted the two sickly individuals back to the music room, carrying with him the two first-aid kits and a message that Joey had written. The second he entered the recording studio, The instruments went silent. A bassist got up from his instrument and tackled Sammy to the ground.

“Okay, someone get these two to the infirmary and look after them,” the bassist ordered, “And Johnny, get the rope. We have a loyalist to hang!”

“Wait!” Sammy cried, “I carry a message from your lord!”

“Can it! You let this happen to them. Why would we listen to your stupid ‘message?’”

Meanwhile, Jack Fain picked up the message from the ground and read it. “Guys! It says if three days go by without incident, they’ll release our prisoners! Let’s not do this. Please.”

The man who’d tackled Sammy got up, snatched the message out of Jack’s hands, and skimmed over it. “Huh. You’re right. Fine. Take him to the elevator and I’ll take this to Abby. Hopefully she’ll actually use it.”

---

Abby read over the letter.

To the upper levels,

A lot of violence has occurred between the upper and lower levels recently, so let me make myself clear: I do not want war, and no matter what level you come from, you should not want loyalists to die. Without our work, you would starve. I’m sorry to have done what I did, but I think you all needed a reminder of what’s coming for you if you keep interfering with our work. I do not wish to have to do this again.

Simply put, be peaceful, do what’s needed of you, and everything will be fine. As a final peace offering, I will release your prisoners three days from now if the rebellion stops entirely.

-Joey Drew

Abby knew the letter was full of lies. That thing wasn’t Joey, and it wasn’t forced to keep them here. She knew that the others knew that, too, and she knew that now that the upper levels had tasted hope, complete compliance would be even more impossible than before. This so-called war was going to happen sooner or later, so she needed to make sure they started at an advantage. She called on Henry to help her make a plan, and called everyone into the recording studio that night to announce it. Thankfully, it seemed to satisfy even the most rebellious of souls.

---

The door to Susie’s room opened, and Abby stepped in. Susie's eyes opened weakly.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“Sorry you had to miss the meeting tonight. Big things are happening, and I thought I’d let you know about them.”

“Okay,” Susie said.

“So... Joey, or, his demon, rather, has threatened to come down hard on us if there are any more signs of rebellion- and we both know that there will be. He also promised to release our prisoners if there are three days of good behaviour. So, I’ve decided that we’re breaking out the same night that our prisoners are released. The plan is for someone stealthy to go down there in the dead of night, steal the keys, and come back. After that, we’ll leave in groups of seven in order to sneak out of the portal. We’ll do it as quietly as possible, but we’ll also be packing axes and spears made from the knives you brought up. Hopefully there won’t be too many causalities.”

“Why seven?”

“We’re expecting to have ten injured people, and we’re not leaving anyone behind. There are going to be 68 of us in total, assuming that none of the prisoners died, you know, I thought that one per group would have the least chance of really compromising a group’s chances of escape. Plus, smaller groups will be quicker and quieter.”

Susie nodded.

“Oh, and I’m sure you’ll be better by then. And Norman is fine, too, by the way. Well, physically. We looked him over and he doesn’t have any issues aside from the obvious. He won’t talk to any of us. I don’t know what that’s about. Maybe some kind of spell.”

Susie should have felt something in regards to that, but she was honestly too exhausted from the blood loss.

“Alright. I’ll let you rest now- but tomorrow, I’m going to have to ask you about everything you saw down there- especially anything that might help me plan. Goodnight, Susie.” With that, Abby left.

---

The rebellion required planning, and management. Every axe was pulled off the walls and moved into Sammy’s sanctuary, along with the knives- just in case a loyalist decided to take them away one night. Two people guarded the elevator on each floor and at all times, and not to keep loyalists out. Loyalists were allowed right through, but any especially rebellious souls had to be kept from ruining their plan. Henry and Abby were busy planning the groups and drawing up an easy-to-follow map to the portal room. Every department head struggled to keep the remaining workers to their jobs. It seemed pointless for them to work jobs they’d quickly be fleeing from, but it was essential in order to keep suspicions to a minimum.

---

It was the night before the march. Most were turning in early, knowing that tomorrow, they would have to be on their guard well into the night. Susie had tried to do the same, but she couldn’t sleep. There was too much on her head. Too many factors that had to align if she was ever going to make it out. The horrifying possibility of facing the ink demon again if they failed. And her mind, despite there being there bigger fish to fry, kept going back to Norman, if they could ever have what they had once had again, and if Norman even wanted that anymore.

“Has Norman talked to you, yet?” Susie asked Grant once he entered their room. Since Norman hadn’t rejoined them, there was no real reason for them to still be roommates, but they’d stayed roommates anyhow, just out of habit.

“No. As far as I know, he hasn’t talked to anyone.”

“I saw him speak today. Wally wanted to help him carry something, and Norman snarled at him to back off. So, it’s not a spell- just mental stuff from being imprisoned. I wanna help him, but he won’t talk to me. Can you try?”

“Sure,” Grant said. “I can’t guarantee it’ll work, but I’ll try.”

“Okay,” Susie said, biting back tears. “I just wanna know that he’s in a place where he’ll be able to handle things tomorrow. And... I know that this is the last thing that should be on my mind, but... can you ask why he’s avoiding me?”

“Oh, Susie. I...” Grant tried to find the words to comfort her. “I’ll talk to him.” Honestly, it didn’t seem like Norman was the only one who had to pull themselves together for tomorrow night.

Norman wasn’t used to being pitied. Even as a kid, after all he’d been through, his adoptive family had known that he was a problem child who needed to be set straight before he got even bigger and his aggression became more dangerous. He’d never wanted pity, either, and now that he had it, he couldn’t say that his opinion on it had improved any. He never thought he’d miss his coworkers looking at him like he was a frightening beast. Though he did cut the long, greasy hair he’d grown while imprisoned as soon as he had the chance, he’d been half-tempted to just wash it and keep it, just to somewhat retain that beastly image.

Mostly, he wanted a way to cope. He wanted to talk with his sister, or go for a walk in the woods, or somehow get out of the sight of these people without isolating himself in one room. That had been what he was doing in his off hours- both because there was little else he wanted to do and because he didn’t have the stamina he used to. It wasn’t Susie’s room. Honestly, he’d been too scared to even look at her.

Norman knew of the plan. Honestly, it had happened so quickly after he was released from his imprisonment that it was a little hard to take in. Yes, late tomorrow night, he and everyone else would end up escaping or die trying, and Norman would either reunite with his sister and put his life together from there, or it would be the end of him. It was happening, but it didn’t seem real.

There was a knock at his door. Norman pulled himself up and answered it. It was Grant. Well, out of everyone in the studio it could have been, Grant was the most tolerable.

“Hey, Norman. You... wanna play some cards?” There was a little pity in Grant’s voice. Thankfully not too much.

Norman ushered Grant into the room. They sat down on the floor, and Grant started shuffling the cards.

“So, you ready for tomorrow?”

“I guess. Kind of hard to believe it’s happening.”

Grant’s face lit up. “You’re talking!”

Norman shrugged. “It’s easy when it’s you."

“Uh, thanks. Do you want talk about... you know, what’s happened?”

“No,” Norman said, and the two played cards in silence for a while before Norman spoke up again. “Is Susie okay?”

“She’s fine. She’ll be strong enough to make it out, assuming the plan goes well.”

Norman’s face was unreadable. “Good." A long pause. “Y’know, she’s childish, and shallow, and stupid. But she was impressed with me because I was strong and I could protect her. And so, you know, she was pretty, and we did... things together. I thought that could be all it was, but she was sweet and kind to me and I went and caught feelings for her. Of course, shallow attraction based on one thing won’t last now that I look like starving stray dog, but whatever. So long as she’s okay. She’s a good girl. So long as she’s okay.”

Grant just stared at him. “Have you... looked her in the eye recently?”

“What?”

“Uh, sorry. It’s just that you’re usually so good at figuring this kind of thing out that it borders on the supernatural, and right now, you’re really, really wrong. This entire, organized rebellion started with her trying to put together a rescue team for you. She wanted to be the first one down in loyalist territory, for you. She’s actually the one who sent me, because she’s worried about how you’ll do tomorrow.”

With the last line, Norman’s face went from appreciation and disbelief to twisted anger. “For God’s sake! Joey didn’t cut my fucking legs off!”

“Well, she can’t know how well you’re doing if you avoid her. Look, if you aren’t up for it, I can go back and try to comfort her, tell her you’re fine.”

“No. No. I’ll do it. And I’m sorry that I’m not my most pleasant right now.”

Grant smiled. Nothing ever changed- the best way to get Norman to do anything was to offer to do it for him. Susie slept in Norman’s arms that night, knowing it could be their last chance to be together.

[trensu]

Episode 43: The One where WWX is Soft for Children and Bunnies

we're still in the forbidden chamber

wwx has his detective cap on and is being clever

the lan bros are listening attentively as they should be

wwx: jgy is a sneaky conniving bastard blah blah he vandalizes evil music books blah blah

lots of boring plot talk basically

i'm sitting here like, *sigh* so pretty wwx so pretty

which is what i imagine lwj does all the time...

lol wwx goes to lxc and is like, no offense bro but jgy was a skilled spy during the war who was able to infiltrate and memorize wen ruohan's stuff in their secret chamber. invading this one would've been a piece of cake for him

and lxc is like well damn, guess i better test out all this evil music and see if it actually works

lxc: i'll just test the evil magic music on myself. yep. that way no one gets hurt and that couldn't possibly backfire on me at all

lwj: bro

lxc: bro. i gotta do this bro to clear my bae’s i mean friend's name

LOL lxc is like you all see jgy this way but i see him in a totally different way

YEAH WE KNOW, THAT'S THE PROBLEM

LOLOLOL OMG

lxc turns to gaze off into the middle distance and is like, the jgy in my heart is kind and benevolent blah blah

and behind him wwx crosses his arms and all but rolls his eyes LIKE DUDE YOU'RE COMING TO THE WRONG PERSON FOR SYMPATHY. I'M THE ONE THAT GOT KILLED FOR THINGS YOUR BF DID

oh this moment's interesting

lxc is like, can't you allow me to be cautious about making this decision? 

and lwj takes a step towards him, ready to speak but wwx grabs his upper arm and stops him with a shake of his head

the look lwj gives him just before that was like why are you stopping me?

but wwx knows this isn't something you can push

lwj trusts wwx's judgment and holds back whatever he was going to say

i'm curious as to what he WAS going to tell his brother tho

now lwj is leaving to talk to their uncle and lxc is like, sure i'll take your soulmate back to your room for you

WE'RE GONNA GET SOME BABY!LWJ FLASHBACKS SOON OMG

IT'S GONNA HURT

wwx: since lan zhan isn't here, i wanna ask you about something

lxc: tell me

wwx: what are the whipping scars on lan zhan?

lxc: you don't know?

AND THEIR SONG STARTS PLAYING

wwx: i asked him but he didn't wanna say, so i'm asking you

lxc: yeah, if he doesn't think it's necessary he'll probably never talk about it so i'll tell you instead of respecting my little brother's decisions about his personal life

AND OKAY I'M GLAD HE DID BC IT GIVES US WANGXIAN MOMENTS BUT STILL!! 

lxc: do you remember that one time when wn shot and killed your sister's husband?

on the one hand, HOW COULD HE FORGET but on the other hand, he forgets quite a lot of things actually...

lxc: after wq and the others turned themselves in...*cue flashback*

we're at the burial mounds, lwj is standing by himself before wwx's cave facing down a whole freaking squadron of cultivators

su she: *runs his mouth as if we actually care what he has to say*

lwj: *completely unfazed and expressionless* you are not qualified to speak to me

HELL FUCKING YEAH

WORDS CANNOT DESCRIBE HOW EPIC THIS MOMENT IS

LOOK AT LWJ OWN THAT ICE PRINCE PERSONA TO STRIKE DOWN AN IMPUDENT ANT OF A PERSON

su she goes to draw his sword AS IF HE HAS ANY REAL CHANCE OF DEFEATING HANGUANG JUN IN A SWORD FIGHT

but jgy shows up with even MORE cultivators and then does that thing where he compliments the person inconveniencing him and takes control of the situation

jgy: oh hanguang jun is so honorable let's not search wwx's secret cave lab right now

BUT THE GREAT THING IS THAT LWJ DOESN'T EVEN ACKNOWLEDGE HIS PRESENCE

HE DOESN'T LOOK AT HIM OR SU SHE AT ALL

bc lwj is forever Better Than You.

fuck jgy

jgy: even if wwx is alive, the burial mounds is surrounded so there's no way he could come here without us noticing

he says this to lwj all mildly BUT YOU KNOW IT'S A THREAT

He bows (lwj STILL doesn't acknowledge him and it's GREAT) and walks away

then pauses (bc Drama) and is like oh, almost forgot, your uncle is waiting for you at the cloud recesses. And then he just leaves with all his cultivators

this is when lwj finally looks at jgy (or his back, at least since jgy is leaving)

We cut to the next scene that has lwj slamming the point of bichen in the the stone ground, arm bleeding

HE IS VISIBLY SWEATING AND TREMBLING

lxc: lwj made a mess and fought against everyone there

AND WE SEE LWJ FALL TO HIS KNEE, ONE ARM USING BICHEN AS SUPPORT WHILE THE OTHER RESTS ON THE GROUND

but the fall was gradual and jerky, like he was fighting it the whole way down. 

As if the only reason he fell is bc he's used up every ounce his strength and energy he had in his body

lxc: uncle burst into anger and took him back home, punishing him with 300 lashes and repenting in the cold pond cave for 3 years

we cut to the cloud recesses, camera shot from above making lwj, who is kneeling before his uncle and surrounded by disciples, look small AS ~THEIR SONG~ STARTS PLAYING ON THE CELLO 

his uncle orders them to start beating lwj

AND LWJ TAKES IT LIKE A CHAMP

he barely moves with each strike and MAN THAT DISCIPLE IS NOT HOLDING BACK

oooh, we see him do that fist clench thing which looks even more painful without bichen to grip tbh

dude lwj is clenching his jaw so hard. 

like, he refuses to cry out in pain and it's gotta hurt bc he's bleeding already

lqr: what is rule 52 of the lan clan?

lwj: do not befriend evil

NO HESITATION. SAID IN A STRONG FIRM VOICE

AS IF HE WASN'T CURRENTLY GETTING BEATEN WITH A NIGHTMARE STICK

and lqr is all you have forgotten the fundamental laws of our clan, how can you have the nerve to face your ancestors like this!!

BUT LWJ IS NOT HAVING THAT

HE'LL TAKE THE BEATING BUT HE'S GOING TO MAKE HIS POINT

lwj: i dare ask you, grandmaster, who is right? who is wrong? what is black? what is white?

Bc our boy has learned! He’s learned NUANCE and CRITICAL THINKING and the existence of GRAY AREAS

BC WTF IS THE POINT OF ALL OF THESE STUPID RULES IF THEY DON'T PROTECT THE INNOCENT AND DEFENSELESS?

Bc his soulmate was right all along and he didn’t stand by him when he needed him most and now his soulmate is gone. His soulmate is gone. He’s GONE.

I'M GONNA MAKE MYSELF CRY

lqr: perfect! that's my good student

he does not say this happily. he is in fact SHOUTING this VERY ANGRILY

and here i wanna say, hey lqr, what's that rule about excessive noise...?

cue lwj's fist clench again, which sounds just as painful as the beating tbh

lqr: wangji, you have disappointed me

NOT AS MUCH AS YOU AND YOUR DAMN RULE-BOOK HAVE DISAPPOINTED HIM, YOU JERK

and here we see an ACTUAL VISIBLE SCOWL on our beautiful hanguang jun's face as he continues to be beaten

HOW ANGRY AND TORN UP MUST HE BE TO ACTUALLY SCOWL LIKE THAT??

cut to lwj kneeling at the ice table thing in the cold pond cave, robed in white and face blank but somehow still projecting an aura of cold fury

probably bc the rulebook open in front of him says "eradicate evil, establish laws, and goodness will be everlasting" and he knows that’s bullshit now

but actually this scene is visually very beautiful. 

It’s all in misty shades of pale cold blue and white and everything’s spaced out in a way to emphasize how very very alone lwj is

cut back to the present with wwx and lxc

wwx grips his flute with both hands and looks down like he can't believe what he's hearing

lxc: when lwj was imprisoned i tried to persuade him...but he told me he considered you his confidant soulmate and believed in your integrity

wwx: why would he bother…?

his brow is furrowed and his voice is soft like he truly doesn't seem to understand why lwj would bother to do all that

and on the one hand i wanna scream IT'S BECAUSE HE LOVES YOU, YOU MORON

but on the other hand, everybody else in wwx's life, everyone else he loved, turned on him or died 

and he probably truly believes he deserved all that, and that he is undeserving of lwj's unwavering faith

and then i cry

lxc: do you know what this place is?

shot of the entrance to the silence room aka the jingshi aka lwj's room

wwx: i don't

lxc: it's where our mother lived

wwx is hanging off his every word

lxc: you might find it strange that the wife of the clan leader didn't live with her husband in the frigid chamber

with a name like that i wouldn't want to live there either...

lxc: you might know that our father used to isolate himself for years, not caring about anything...

Not even his sons, apparently!

wwx: i do

and he explains that his father isolated himself bc of his mother or whatever

lxc: this place was more of a prison than a home

It was his mother’s prison. When did he figure that out? Was it when HE WAS STILL A KID??

DID HE FEEL GUILTY FOR SPENDING TIME WITH HIS  MOTHER KNOWING SHE WAS LOCKED UP AGAINST HER WILL??

THE LAN FAM IS SO FUCKED UP OMG

now he's telling us the whole tragic love story

it was love at first sight, he says and wwx is like ah yes, a typical romance

and lxc is like, uh no, she didn't love him back and she murdered his teacher, idk why tho

lxc: but i guess it's all about right and wrong, love and hate

Which is a major theme of the whole show, tbh

OH DAMN

now he's telling wwx about how his dad took his mom to cloud recesses and married her against the clan's approval and that he told them that this was the person he would love for a lifetime, that “whoever tried to drive her out would have to go through him first"

DOES ANY OF THIS SOUND FAMILIAR TO YOU, WWX?

RINGING ANY (WEDDING) BELLS?

DOES THIS REMIND YOU OF ANYTHING AT ALL, WWX?

"after the wedding my father built this house, and locked my mother up"

lxc says this all so calmly and gently, as if he were reading from a story book rather than reciting his immediate family's history

Which is probably a coping mechanism, tbh

this fam is so fucked up, have i mentioned?

lxc: do you understand why my father did all this?

wwx: *nod*

lxc: and do you think he did the right thing?

wwx: i don't know

well, i mean, he married her and locked her up against her will

granted she did murder someone but i get the feeling she probably had good reason to

and now he's telling wwx that they basically had no parents bc they were given off to others to raise them until they were old enough to attend their uncle's lessons

FLASHBACK TO BABY!LWJ READING TO HIS MAMA FROM A LAN CLAN BOOK

HE'S SO CUTE AND TINY AND HIS MAMA IS SO SOFT AND PRETTY. 

SHE LOOKS AT HIM WITH SUCH LOVE, AND RUNS HER HAND THROUGH HIS HAIR SO GENTLY

lxc makes a point here to say that their mother never complained about her imprisonment or how painful it must've been to be trapped like that

BC THEIR MAMA LOVED THEM

lxc: lwj never said anything, but i knew he looked forward to the day we visited mother every month

HOW AWFUL IS THAT, TO BE RESTRICTED TO ONE DAY A MONTH TO SPEND WITH SOMEONE YOU LOVE???

Lxc: he did (look forward to seeing mom). and so did i.

cut to baby lwj kneeling in the snow, all little and by himself IN FRONT OF THE JINGSHI, AKA HIS MOM’S PRISON AKA PROBABLY HIS FAVORITE PLACE IN ALL THE CLOUD RECESSES

lxc: one day, uncle told us that we didn't need to go there anymore. mother had gone.

I'M GONNA CRY

HE'S SO LITTLE AND SAD AND HE'S KNEELING SO STILL WITH HIS TINY HANDS IN HIS LAP

like even lqr is moved bc he goes and puts a hand on his shoulder

lxc: we were too young to understand what that meant.

lxc: no matter how others consoled us or how uncle scolded him, lwj still came here every month. he would sit on that porch and wait for someone to open the door.

I'M SOBBING

LWJ HAS SPENT HIS WHOLE LIFE WAITING FOR THE PEOPLE HE LOVES

He’s kept himself still and stalwart ever since he was a kid so that if his loved one chose to come back, he’d still be there for them 

I'M HURTING SO MUCH

HE JUST WANTED THEM TO COME BACK AND THINK HE WAS WORTH STAYING FOR. 

GOD I HATE CRYING. I'M A SNOTTY MESS RN

Lxc: when we got older we realized that she would never come back. that no one would ever open the door for him. but he still came.

FUCK

GOD DAMN IT

STOP HURTING ME SO MUCH, WHAT THE HELL

lxc: lwj has always been stubborn since he was very young

lxc: back then, he watched you learn crafty tricks. he didn't say anything, but i knew...that the pain and confusion in his heart was the same as what he felt for our mother

MY GOD, JUST BEAT ME WITH THOSE NIGHTMARE STICKS INSTEAD. THAT WOULD HURT LESS THAN THIS.

wwx's eyes are all red-rimmed and his brow is all pinches and HE JUST SWALLOWED BACK THE LUMP IN HIS THROAT

THE SAME ONE I HAVE RIGHT NOW AS I CRY AND CRY AND CRY

and lxc is like, well, that's enough intense conversation for now, imma do a flute solo

~flute sounds~

and now he's like i tried to persuade lwj before but now that i'm in his shoes it turns out making a decision isn't actually easy to do?? who'd have thought?

oh here comes lwj, all straight-backed and regal as always but no jewelry in his hair! no topknot! he looks so different this way

AND HE HAS TWO JARS OF EMPEROR'S SMILE WITH HIM

AND ~THEIR SONG~ IS PLAYING AGAIN

oh, the way he holds it out to wwx, like an offering at an altar...

cut to inside the jingshi, we get to see him uncap one of the jars and pour a drink out for his soulmate. 

like, the camera is specifically focused on his hands

which, hey, i’ve seen the tags ppl, i know some of you are Into That so take the time to enjoy this

then we get a shot of all of him and he looks so so soft and exposed and vulnerable  here?? with his hair down in his own room, pouring a drink for his wei ying

it's beautiful

wwx walks in and watches as lwj starts to pour himself a cup of tea

THIS IS A LOT. 

~Their Song~ playing sweetly, no other sounds except the quiet clinks of the cups and teapot. And all of lwj’s actions are just...light

wwx: lan zhan…

GOD I JUST WANT TO SCREENCAP THIS WHOLE SCENE

the shot of lwj here, while he’s focused on pouring his tea. 

the way his head is angled and the wisps of his hair frame his face. 

he takes up a good portion of the screen without seeming domineering or forceful, just...peacefully existing in the space

and then we cut back to wwx's face, his mouth open as he takes a breath 

He wants to say something, anything, but you can see on his face that he can't make the words come

Like he doesn’t want to disturb the moment with whatever he was going to say, bc it’s a fragile moment

and then this brief literally-2-seconds shot of lwj to the right, sitting at the table 

the table is set up so beautifully with the jars of emperor's smile and their cups. and he's looking up and the lighting AND AHHHHHH

IT'S JUST A VERY BEAUTIFUL TWO SECONDS AND I'VE STARED AT IT FOR MUCH TOO LONG ALREADY

lwj: what?

and wwx can't even really return his gaze. he looks just as vulnerable here but, unlike lwj, he also looks awkward, like he’s nervous in his vulnerability same ,wwx, same

wwx tries to say thank you but it comes out stuttered and soft while lwj watches him patiently

wwx mumbles to himself "it's awkward to say it out loud" and his eyes flicker back and forth for a second as his mouth pinches, agitated 

BC IT IS MEGA AWKWARD

FEELINGS ARE AWKWARD

AND AS LOUD AND OBNOXIOUS WWX CAN BE, IT'S NEVER ABOUT HIS FEELINGS.

wwx: *clears throat* i mean...the burden on your brother's shoulders is tremendous

smooth transition, wwx, very smooth

but at least it allowed him the chance to sit at the table with lwj

wwx: after all, jgy is his sworn brother. if i were him...

he trails off awkwardly and it feels even MORE awkward bc the background music just ends suddenly and it's silent for us, the audience

lwj doesn't say anything and instead gently moves the cup of wine towards wwx.

once that's done he says "if there's evidence, my brother won't tolerate it."

but he doesn't look at wwx and his face is somber

wwx: that's true. he's got his principles

finally lwj looks at him

lwj: you didn't tell him.

wwx: tell him what?

lwj: about the flute on qiongqi way

wwx: you know about that?

lwj: i asked wen ning. he said he heard a second flute

wwx: i thought i was hearing things until nightless city *insert flashback here*

cut to next scene. wwx is standing just outside the jingshi doors with a jar in his hand as it snows

lwj steps up next to him and ~THEIR SONG~ STARTS PLAYING

they're still talking about the flute and how wwx is confident now that there was a second one used to frame him basically. he's quietly angry here.

lwj immediately says it was jgy but wwx responds with "maybe, maybe not"

lwj looks at him, "you don't want to know the answer?"

bc lwj does. he wants to know who framed his soulmate, causing the suffering that lead to his death

wwx: at first i really wanted to but now i just want to say, 'whatever. screw it!'

he says with a laugh and then takes a swig from his wine jar

wwx put down that wine jar, you've obviously had too much already.

wwx: lan zhan, i actually think whether i know the answer or not won't be of much importance for me. after all, in ppl's minds, the yiling patriarch did bad things. even if i expressed my grievances, people still won't trust me

and he smiles

MY POOR SUNSHINE BOY

He says, "Sometimes the world only needs an excuse or target that everyone can hate"

PAINFULLY TRUE

and then he says something along the lines that it doesn't matter, if he wasn't made the target, someone else would have been

BASICALLY HE'S JUST VERY DISILLUSIONED HERE 

THE WORLD SHOULD FEEL ASHAMED FOR DISAPPOINTING HIM

now we hear the sound of a guqin playing ~Their Song~

lwj at his guqin playing their song to soothe his soulmate

wwx: *voiceover* i was lonely back then. the few who believed in me were dead, wen ning, jyl. Luckily…

and here we get the crescendo of the opening theme as we cut to lwj. 

the voiceover changes from wwx to lwj

lwj: in this world, there is still someone who trust you

I'M HAVING A LOT OF FEELINGS RIGHT NOW

voiceover switches back to wwx and we get a shot of wwx watching lwj play

wwx: lan zhan, i toast to you. i'm glad to have one true friend

SO MANY FEELINGS

and then i get distracted as wwx does that thing where he pours wine into his mouth and spills half of it down his VERY INDECENTLY EXPOSED THROAT

shot of lwj thinking: for nothing else but a clean conscience

shot of wwx thinking: no matter how they slander me, i know i have a clean conscience

EVEN THEIR THOUGHTS ARE IN SYNC OMG

AND ~THEIR SONG~ IS STILL PLAYING BUT NOW IT'S THE GUQIN AND THE FLUTE COMING TOGETHER

wwx gazes tenderly at lwj and whispers: lan zhan. i'm sorry...and thank you

AND WE GET THE ACTORS’ VOCALS ADDED IN TO ~THEIR SONG~ AS LWJ LOOKS UP AND SEES WWX WATCHING HIM

AND I'M HAVING SO MANY FEELINGS

I WOULD LIKE TO GET DISTRACTED BY WWX'S INDECENTLY EXPOSED THROAT AGIAN PLZ

cut to the next day with lxc meditating and our boys hiding behind a privacy screen

lwj is in perfect posture, eyes closed and meditating calmly while wwx keeps listing to the side and jolting awake bc meditating IS FOR NERDS

lol except this time he lists to the opposite side and falls into lwj's shoulder with a cute little gasp

lwj gives him a look and wwx quickly arranges himself into a sloppy lotus pose

jgy walks in and our boys are immediately on alert peeking through the privacy screen 

(which actually isn't all that private. you can see through half of it??)

now we get a moment for lxc and jgy in which jgy returns the jade token and it’s, like, a Thing

BUT WE DON'T CARE ABOUT THEM

LET'S SEE OUR BOYS' REACTION TO WHAT JGY HAS TO SAY

wwx is watching lwj as jgy says something about how they don't have info on lwj and wwx yet and lwj closes his eyes against the news

i think he's upset he's placed his brother in this position...

now we're informed that there are active puppets in the burial mounds

lxc is like, well it can't be wwx bc he was stabbed

and jgy is like he's been stabbed before and controlled puppets alright then!

meanwhile wwx behind the screen scoffs and thinks "they think too highly of me"

also, like, jgy was trying to get lxc to give them up by saying how lwj would be safe bc of his great reputation

Honestly, it really just goes to show that these people don't actually care about your actions. they've made their assumptions and they'll stick to them no matter what and IT'S SUPER FRUSTRATING

plot talk plot talk sworn trio moment plot talk

now lxc is off to carp tower while our boys prepare for a field trip to the burial mounds

LIL APPLE AND THE BUNNIES!!

our boys are by a stream and there's bunnies all over the place and wwx is telling lil apple they're leaving

~THEIR SONG~ STARTS UP AGAIN

AHHHHHHHHH, LOOOK!!! THERE’S TEENY TINY SMILE ON LWJ'S FACE AS HE PUTS DOWN BICHEN TO PICK UP ONE OF THE BUNNIES

EVERYTHING IS ADORABLE

WWX GETS THAT LITTLE MISCHIEVOUS SMILE ON HIS FACE AS HE GOES TO POKE THE BUNNY

AND HE MAKES SILLY NOISES AT IT AND IS ALL INSULTED THAT THE BUNNY DOESN'T REACT

SO CUTE!!

wwx: see? they only like you *pout* they're only loyal to their owner

so lwj wordlessly hands over the bunny BC IF HIS SOULMATE WANTS BUNNIES, HIS SOULMATE IS GETTING BUNNIES

the bunny wriggles and wwx is like "don't try to run. you can never run away from me. stay here bunny!"

IT'S SO CUTE I'M GONNA DIE

HE'S JUST PETTING THE BUNNY ALL OVER AND USING A PLAYFUL VOICE WHILE TALKING TO IT AND EVERYTHING IS WONDERFUL

Don’t be jealous of a bunny don’t be jealous of a bunny don’t be jealous of a bunny

wwx looks over to lwj: lan zhan, it's so strange. i know we're going on a dangerous mission but i don't feel scared at all

then he goes back to the bunny and wiggles it around SO CUTELY: do you think it's strange too? what do you think?

AND HE'S GOT THE BIGGEST SMILE

lwj: it's getting late. let's go

wwx: okay *pets bunny* little bunny, we're leaving~

THIS SHOW SHOULD ONLY EVER BE ABOUT BUNNIES, I'VE DECIDED

BUNNIES DON'T HURT ME 

now we cut to them at the entrance of the cloud recesses

lil apple is being stubborn and the bunnies are on the steps

wwx: they hate to see you go.

and wwx looks at lwj all playfully

wwx: i never thought that hanguang jun would be so popular among the little animals

and then he finishes with AN ADORABLE LITTLE POUT: bc i'm not

lwj: why not?

wwx: all little animals regardless of their habitat run when they see me. isn't that right lil apple? *proceeds to bully the donkey*

lwj: *walks off bc he does not condone animal abuse or smth*

wwx: wait for me hanguang jun!!

NOW WE'RE ON A DIRT PATH

LWJ IS HOLDING THE LIL APPLE'S LEAD WHILE WWX RIDES LIL APPLE

HE’S PLAYING HIS FLUTE AND THEN STARTS PLAYING ~THEIR SONG~!!!!

AND LWJ LOOKS TOWARDS HIM HIS EYES ALL TENDER AND FULL OF LOVE

WWX IS SMILING WHILE HE PLAYS

EVERYTHING IS STILL WONDERFUL

LWJ HAS ONE OF HIS ALMOST-SMILES ON HIS FACE

wwx: lan zhan, i wanna know, back in the murder turtle cave, what was the name of the song you sang to me?

lwj: why do you ask?

wwx: just tell me the name. i think i've figured out how you recognized me

wwx: tell me what song it is. who's the composer?

lwj: me

wwx: so you composed it?!

lwj: hm

wwx: what's the name then?

THIS IS SUCH A CAREFREE PLEASANT CONVERSATION AND I LOVE IT

lwj: what do you think?

wwx: you're asking my opinion?

he gets this huge smile on his face and giggles

wwx: i think i'll call it...

lwj: i'm thirsty, let's look for water

IT'S RUDE TO INTERRUPT LWJ

they find a random house and wwx proceeds to steal a melon

but they're interrupted so they hide like the CRIMINALS THEY ARE lol

and we see mr & mrs mianmian with little mianmian!!

mr mianmian is all if you run off again the yiling patriarch will eat you!

little mianmian is like I'M NOT SCARED, mama says the yiling patriarch doesn’t bully good people

and that's how mianmian and her husband and daughter get guaranteed invites to their future wedding

we cut to wwx and lwj 

wwx is nodding enthusiastically like THAT'S RIGHT, I DON'T HURT INNOCENT PEOPLE, IT'S ABOUT TIME THAT'S ACKNOWLEDGED

ohhhhh really liking how mianmian draws her sword and demands the criminals to show themselves

Lol, she's like WHO'S THERE? and wwx literally answers, UM, NO ONE??

lwj purses his lips like, really?? and comes out of hiding

Mianmian is shocked to find hanguang jun hiding on her property obvs, but is also excited to recognize wwx

wwx: *internally* why does this lady know me?? did she have a problem with me or did i provoke her??

then wwx recognizes her!! he's very excited about it!

and we end the episode on a high note there!!

We get to see the only functional, happy (and alive) marriage in the entire cultivation world!!

And yeah, we got our hearts torn out by kid!lwj but we were rewarded with soft domesticity AND bunnies right after!!!

Overall good quality wangxiantics

Return to Masterpost

[lover-of-skellies]

In Deep Water

Sooo... ye. I did a thing. This is supposed to be a lil recap kinda thing for Nep and Gill's past, since I hadn't posted anything for that yet. Hopefully it turned out alright,, but if it's not quite up to par, I apologize in advance ^^" I'm still really tired, and the fuckin angst in the beginning hit me right in the feels

There's some gore and violence, but for the most part, I don't think it's that bad. Nothing to be hugely concerned about, at least

All of this happens before Betta's born, so she's not in this part sadly enough

Chest heaving as he gasped for breath, the skeleton monster stared at the gruesome scene laid out before him; his favorite human was sprawled out in the snow, their eyes wide, and their face fixed in a clear look of terror. Crimson stained the snow that surrounded them, and from the side of their neck, their upper arm, and shoulder, there were large chunks of their flesh missing. One of their arms was torn clean off their body, and one of their legs had also been mangled and bloodied.

Looking down at himself, his eye lights constricted into the smallest of pin pricks, fear taking hold of his entire being as his gaze locked on the blood that stained almost the entire front of his jacket. His slippers were drenched in the scarlet fluid as well, and he let out a strangled cry, his sockets watering up with blue tinted tears. Beginning to tremble, his eye light shifted their focus to his hands, which were covered in the blood of his friend.

There was something that held a metallic taste in his mouth, and as he began to recall what happened, a wave of nausea washed over him. He doubled over, his nonexistent stomach turning. Hitting a certain point, he nearly doubled over, emptying the contents of his stomach into the snow before him. His entire body ached and he broke into sobs, not bothering to wipe the last bit of vomit from his chin. He covered his face with his hands, his shoulders shaking as he began practically wailing, trying desperately to muffle his voice.

His soul trembled within his chest, and then small cracks began to form along the edges of it as he choked out, "Oh my god, oh no... oh shit, what have I done? What the hell is wrong with me? Why did I did... I didn't mean to, I swear. I... I've doomed us all, haven't I?"

Footsteps could be heard crunching in the snow and approaching him, and his feet remained rooted in place as he was greeted by the familiar voice of his younger brother, "SANS? SANS, ARE YOU ALRIGHT?! OH MY WORD, WHAT HAPPENED TO THE HUMAN?!" Sans' voice was weak, no more than a whimper as he responded, "You gotta get outta here, Pap... It's not safe." Ignoring his brothers words, Papyrus approached him from behind, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. Sans flinched at the unexpected contact, his sockets widening, and as he slowly turned to look up at Papyrus, blood staining his clothes and coating the lower half of his face, the younger of the two looked back at him, clearly in shock.

Blue tears rolled down Sans' cheekbones and he trembled, his voice barely audible, "...I did this, Pap. I'm... I don't know what's wrong with me. You need to leave, I don't wanna hurt you too." The taller brother sighed deeply, momentarily closing his sockets. Opening them again to look at Sans, he chose to completely disregard the blood on his clothes, leaning down to very delicately wrap his arms around his elder brother, tugging him closer to himself and lowering his voice, "I'm Not Going Anywhere, Brother. Not Without You." Sans let out another sob, acting on impulse as he latched onto Papyrus, attempting to hide his face.

Their moment was interrupted as another voice pierced the silence, its tone laced with venom, "You... Of all the things you could've done, you broke the ONE rule I gave you! Just how foolish are you, Sans?!" Sans whimpered, sniffling and reluctantly peeking at the person who'd addressed him. Immediately recognizing them, his sockets widened again and he turned to fully face them, panic written on all of his features, "I never meant for this to happen, I swear! I didn't... I didn't wanna do this. I'm so, so sorry, please forgive me! I'll do anything to make it right!"

Crossing their arms over their chest, the deity narrowed their eyes, scoffing at his words, "You're such a half-witted fool. Spilling human blood was the ONE thing that was prohibited! As long as no human blood was spilled, I gave you and your people COUNTLESS YEARS of peace and prosperity. I protected the lot of you, and you've taken that for granted!" Sans held his hands up and immediately shook his head, "N-No, I haven't! Honest! Please, forgive me! I'm begging you!"

They merely rolled their eyes, "I cannot, Sans. If I were to let it go this once, who's to say you won't do it again, hm? You yourself can't even be certain of that, can you?" Sans pressed a hand over his mouth, trying to muffle his voice as tears continued pouring from his sockets. Papyrus frowned, clearing his throat and gaining the attention of the deity, "Um... Excuse Me... May I Say Something, Your Greatness?"

The deity nodded, silently giving him their permission to speak. The younger of the two skeleton brothers wasn't sure what to say or do, but he spoke anyway, his magic beginning to radiate waves of what felt like some sort of hopeful desperation, "I Know My Brother Has Broken A Rule You Set In Place, That Meant The World To You. I Can Assure You Though, He Didn't Mean To Do This. It's Not Like Him To Do These Sorts Of Things, I Promise. Just Look At Him... He's Crying And Pleading With You For Your Forgiveness. If It's At All Possible, I Humbly Ask That You Look Inside Yourself and Try To Pardon Him. Please. Just This Once."

The divine being arched a single eyebrow, "Are you defending his wrongdoing, Papyrus?" In response, the skeleton in question shook his head, "No No, Absolutely Not. I Agree That It Was Very Wrong Of Him, But Please... Please Forgive Him. Grant Us Your Kindness, And We'll Make Sure This Never Happens Again." Sighing, the god rubbed one of their temples, squeezing their eyes shut. The skeletons remained silent, save for Sans' broken sobs and whimpers, awaiting their God's decision.

When the entity opened their eyes and stared at the two with a look of firm resolution, Papyrus felt all the hope in his soul immediately die, shrinking back the smallest bit at their words, "Then so be it. If you'd defend him, brother or not, that places you on the same level as him. The two of you are to live out the rest of your days as the terrifying beasts that the humans have come to fear. And since Sans seems to love the taste of human flesh enough to go and violate the single rule I've ever given you and the rest of your people, that is the only thing you'll be able to feast on. It will sustain you, but it'll be the only food that will give any sort of satisfaction."

Still sniffling and trying to blink back tears, Sans stared at his bloodied hands, his sockets widening as he watched the tips of his phalanges grow sharper. He opened his mouth, trying to force out a string of words, but froze as his ecto tongue grazed his teeth, feeling how sharp they'd also become. As a second row of serrated teeth began to grow within his mouth, Sans cried out, pain shooting through his face.

His vision went white and he blindly tried to reach for Papyrus, unable to see. Fearing that he'd gone blind, he sobbed, "Pap?... Papyrus, where are you? Why can't I see?!" Papyrus began to respond, his voice dying in his throat as pain shot through his face, his teeth also beginning to change. When his own vision went white, he was frozen, his own sockets widening and beginning to water up as well. Watching them with a cold, blank expression, their god remained silent, appearing unphased.

As the skeletons' vision began to slowly return, they rubbed their eyes and blinked, once again freezing in place as they saw each other; they'd been given claws, sharpened teeth, and their sockets had gone white, without a single trace of an iris or pupil. Visibly frightened, Sans looked to the deity, "Hey, what'd you do to us?... Why are you punishing Papyrus too, huh?! He didn't do anything wrong!"

They tilted their head, still gazing at him blankly, "Well, didn't I just say you were to live out the rest of your days as terrifying beasts? You wouldn't have been terrifying if I left you as you were." Papyrus blinked, trying to process what just happened. Sockets watering up and orange tinted tears dripping down his cheekbones, he pulled his scarf over his face, filled with shame and fear. He resented the way he looked now, just as he resented the pangs of hunger within him that were urging him to devour the corpse that laid nearby.

As the other monsters began to emerge from their homes, Sans' crime revealed to them, his sockets watered up again and he fumbled for an explanation and an apology, and he watched in horror as their confusion and shock began to morph into disgust and anger. They began to shout at him, and as they began to summon their magic to attack, the crowd parted. Making his way through the gathering, the flamesman silently surveyed the scene before him. Sans looked to him, his voice pleading as he apologized more.

The realization sunk in, as to what would happen now, and Sans felt his blood run cold. Grillby's flames became hotter, and he cast a wave of fire at the skeletons, offering no hesitation or remorse. He was just as doomed as everyone else. Sans was quick to shortcut out of the path of Grillby's attack, taking Papyrus with him. Nearly choking as another sob left him, Sans placed himself between Papyrus and the gathering of angry monster, "Don't hurt my bro, please! I'm begging you! He's never done anything to any of you, and he didn't do anything wrong! He's not the one who did this, it was me! I'm the one you should dust! Please... dust me, but leave Papyrus alone. Please, I'm begging you..."

A rock was thrown, rocketing toward the shorter of the two skeletons and striking the side of his skull, causing him to cry out as a small crack formed, and as he tried to regain his bearings, a small figure darted through the crowd. He barely had enough time to process what was happening before a knife was drawn and they slashed at him, his sockets wide as tears dripped down his face. His ribs and sternum cracked and chipped under the blade of the knife, and he felt fresh blood begin to drip down his chin. Was that... was that his blood? No... it couldn't be. There was no way-

The small figure zipped around him and made a beeline for Papyrus, and he cursed. There was no way in hell they were going to hurt his brother. Something within him snapped and he lunged forward, tackling the human child to the ground. Hunger pulsed through him as he caught the scent of blood again, and he growled lowly, baring his teeth. They were flipped onto their back, and as they immediately tried to slash at him again, his eye twitched and his frown became a wide, crooked grin. He roughly grabbed their wrist, and with a sickening crack and their terrified, pained shrieks, their arm was torn from their body, their hand still clutching the handle of their knife.

He chuckled softly, his voice hoarse as he leaned over them and murmured, "Game over, kiddo. I'd say 'm sorry that it had ta go this way, but that'd be a lie. I never did like ya too much, y'know?" There was another shrill scream that he immediately silenced, his jaws clamping down on their rather thin neck. Serrated teeth now embedded in their flesh, he sharply jerked his head, effectively shredding their throat and destroying any verbal capabilities they had left.

He pulled back, looking down at the human beneath him, momentarily horrified at what he'd just done. Tears dripped down his face again and he trembled, hiding his face with his hands. Sans' mind grew hazy, and his sniffles and sobs shifted, gradually transforming into raspy laughter. A magic attack struck him and he yelped, momentarily surprised, before fixing his gaze on the crowd and narrowing his sockets, his twisted smile stretching across his face again as he rose to his feet. Oh, they were gonna pay for that.

As another barrage of magic attacks flew toward him, he merely shortcutted out of their way, trying to ignore pain he felt pulsing through him from his chest each time he moved. Papyrus' voice gained his attention and he looked up, his smile falling as his sockets went wide and he stared. Water flooded from within the surrounding forest, and as the other monsters caught sight of it, they had the same reaction that he and Papyrus did.

Some of them were frozen in fear, and some of them began to run. The water reached the town, crashing full force into the small shops and houses, destroying everything in it's wake, including whatever monsters who were unable to escape. Most of the towns' inhabitants were either killed by the impact, or drowned, save for maybe a lucky remaining few, along with Sans and Papyrus.

Instinctively rushing to Papyrus, Sans grabbed onto him, using his magic to maneuver both of them through the water, trying to find the surface. Just as everything seemed to be over, the earth below them began to shake and split open. A second wave of water hit them without a warning, immediately sweeping both of them into the deep pit that'd just been created, and as Sans pushed Papyrus to a more shallow area, adamant that his younger brother try to save himself, one of the remaining monsters appeared. Gripping onto Sans' jacket, they yelled and cursed at him, roughly shaking him out of anger, and he tolerated this for no more than half a second before he lashed out, turning them to dust.

As if his body was moving against his will, he licked their dust off of his hands, and then was quick to devour their soul, which was all that remained of them. Absentmindedly swaying his feet in the water as he used magic to keep himself in place, he looked around, the reality of the situation finally kicking in. He was horrified and he hated himself for what he did and what he'd become, shaking and erupting into loud, obnoxious laughter. He laughed so hard that tears began to run down his face, and carelessly discarding his jacket and letting it sink, he pressed a hand to his head, his sockets wide and his face fixed into a look of sheer, morbid delight.

Papyrus called out to him and he fell silent, blinking in confusion; his brother cried out for "Sans." He was Sans... right? Sans the skeleton? That was still him? No, no... it couldn't be. Not after everything that just happened. Not now that he'd become some sort of freak.

He shook his head, deciding to abandon his warring thoughts in favor of returning to his brother's side, right where he belonged. In time, the two very gradually began to adjust to their new lifestyle; while Papyrus lurked at the bottom of their lake and continued making his rounds, just as he did when he was trying to become a member of the royal guard, Sans busied himself with... other things.

Namely, tracking and hunting, and making sure the both of them were fed. He became detached and separated from his past self, embracing his life as a human eater with open arms. Papyrus wasn't sure how that was possible; personally, he hated this new life. He hated always being wet, he hated never feeling clean, he hated the huge lack of puzzle making, and most of all, he hated having to devour innocent humans to survive. To him, the humans were supposed to be their friends, not their food.

They stopped keeping track of how much time had passed, the events that brought them to this new life rapidly shifting into nothing more than a distant, fuzzy memory. One that both of them sometimes struggled to remember, at that. The forest was quiet and peaceful, and Sans took great joy in killing off the humans who entered, both for the sake of getting food, and also for maintaining the peaceful atmosphere.

Becoming bored with only hunting humans after a while, Sans took to hunting animals as well. Then, if by some small chance a monster wandered into their forest, he'd cut them down too. Papyrus was horrified, having found his elder brother licking monster dust off his hands and shirt. Eating other monsters was a taboo thing to them, and it had never been discussed before. Papyrus voiced his disagreement with it, trying to get his elder brother to see reason and stop, before he delved too far and indulged in this cannibalistic behavior anymore than he already had.

Sans, being Sans, was stubborn, refusing to stop. Papyrus continued trying to talk him out of it, but gave up after a great while, concluding that there was no point in arguing when Sans refused to listen or take anything into consideration. The two remained just as close as ever despite their obvious differences, and they'd gone on about their lives, just as they'd done before. Everything was normal and fine, and that was the end of it.

That was, until the day a promiscuous skeleton with purple eye lights appeared.