#but at one point Echo just stops connecting with others and the lack of strong friendships means she can’t evolve

[sincerely-sofie]

Brainstorming a protagonist for the Dugtrio Day AU

Meet Echo, everybody!

[neuroticbookworm]

Step by Step Episode 10, A Retrospective Analysis

I have been a staunch supporter of the writing in this show (here and here), even when the pacing and editing have felt a little stilted in places. I have always maintained that the show understands its characters and does an excellent job of connecting them to the audience via some brilliant writing. But episode 10 felt like it was from a completely different writing crew, and I was left feeling bereft and confused. I took some time to understand why, and I'm gonna share my observations in this post.

Disclaimer: I am actually okay with the place the plot is currently at. I think that it is logical that Jeng and Pat are having these problems from the outside world that are affecting their relationship. My friend and BL Ajahn @bengiyo pointed out in his rapid fire takes that Jeng is exhausted and just wants to ignore the shit that's happening around him and enjoy his time with Pat. @shortpplfedup echoes the same sentiment that JengPat are lost in each other and desperately ignoring the rest of the world. And I agree.

What I want to explore here is that while the episode did leave me at an agreeable point in the narrative, it left me there feeling incredibly unsatisfied (my bestie @lurkingshan talks about the lack of emotional catharsis here) and how very easy it would've been to course correct and preserve that audience-character connection.

The episode opens strong, with Chot telling Pat exactly why the way he is responding is hurtful to Jeng's feelings. "Saying that you don't believe him, it's like you were looking down on his feelings." Hits the nail right on the head. Pat then runs to Pearl & Oliver to meet Jeng on his birthday with *shudder* a carrot cake.

At the restaurant, Pat meets Jeng, and we hit the first snag. Pat asks Jeng if he still likes him, and when Jeng responds with a head nod, Pat breaks down. So Jeng makes his feelings clear one last time, and this makes Pat fire off question after question: "Why are you avoiding me?", "Why are you leaving the company?" and "Why can't I be the one who resigns?". Jeng takes a second to collect himself and answers "I'm not avoiding you" (a bald-faced lie, he is avoiding Pat because Pat told him to stay away), "I'm not leaving, I'm only changing positions" and "I started it, I should have to fix it myself".

I'm typing out this exchange word for word because it shows where Jeng and Pat are emotionally at the moment. Jeng has already made moves to make himself scarce around Pat, and seems to be on the path to moving on after Pat's rejection. He also feels responsible for this mess, he is aware of the pain and confusion Pat was processing before his confession, and he has now added to it. Pat is visibly distressed that he has made matters worse by not articulating his thoughts better.

And now Pat says "But I also like you" and leans into Jeng's shoulder, crying, and Jeng takes a moment, smiles, and says "Now we're together". And this is where the show starts to lose me. Jeng desperately wants to be with Pat and is still pining over him, yes, but he has also made concrete decisions to step away from this situation, which takes deliberating on the effect the events of episode 8 have had on both him and Pat, and concluding that the right and healthy thing to do for the both of them is for him to step away.

This is why I think Jeng would have uttered more than a "Now we're together" at that moment. He would've shown concern, or at the very least, he would've wanted to ask again, if Pat was sure. I hate an unnecessary "Are you sure?" moment that holds no weight as much as the next person, but here it would've made all the difference. Pat is sobbing, tears and snot running down his face, when he confesses to Jeng. Didn't the show go to painstaking lengths to show us the differences between Put and Jeng? I want to believe that the Jeng who was established for the last 9 episodes, even while nursing a broken heart, would've stopped and taken a moment to make sure that Pat is alright, he has thought this through, and this is not an impulse decision made on Jeng's birthday due to guilt.

An "Are you sure?" and a full body hug with both of them deep exhaling all their worries away for a moment, in each other's arms would've transformed the tone of this scene completely, and would've brought the characters in line with their established personalities, without compromising the direction the plot wants to take in the rest of this episode.

According to popular consensus here on Tumblr, Jeng's arc in this episode seemed to be one where he is overwhelmed by the complications his relationship with Pat will bring, and that makes him want to disassociate and only focus on Pat and his desire for him. I would've happily taken this read, if they had shown Jeng TRYING in the beginning and THEN rapidly failing. We know (by implication) that his previous relationship played a role in his leaving the company before. So we saw him make very careful strides in the past episodes, and crossing boundaries when his brain is overwhelmed by desire (re: sharing a bed, filming Pat when he's drunk, the speakeasy).

When Pat rejects him, his mind gets clouded. He had been so focused on doing it right this time, and it has still gone wrong, somehow. And when Pat tells him to stop pursuing him, he now has to focus his energy on making it right and keeping the workplace comfortable for Pat. And finally, when Pat comes to confess his feelings, Jeng is mentally exhausted from the back and forth, yes, but he has no reason to feel it yet. There are no eyes on them yet, no judgements that need to be navigated. He must be elated, to have Pat reciprocate his feelings. So when Pat asks him "So from now on. what are we?" and Jeng doesn't loudly proclaim FAEN, it fells ..off. He just had sex with the person who was living in his mind, rent-free for a whole year, on a kitchen counter surrounded by glass walls; he has no reason to feel melancholia yet.

If we had been gradually let into Jeng's mental state, shown how the fear of judgement from the others AND his logical but tired brain overworking to figure out how to make this work, how to circumvent his past mistakes and failings, were getting to him, the episode would've hit a completely devastating emotional beat. And we could've watched Pat's regression in parallel, struggling with his newfound emotional stability in the workplace, because he couldn't help but notice how Jeng was choosing to ignore problems rather than deal with them.

This gradual descent would've also explained Jeng's communication blackout with Pat. Had we gotten two scenes with them at the dinner table at home or a restaurant, one at the beginning of the relationship, with Jeng and Pat enjoying each other's company, and one near the end of the episode, with Jeng hazy and quiet? It would've sunk me to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably.

And I don't want the explanation that the new relationship haze is clouding their minds. I'm always on Team "Fuck Through Your Problems". Them going at it like rabbits was not the issue in this episode. The issue is that we did not get to see ANYTHING ELSE. We did not see the domesticity shine through when the relationship was new, and slowly tarnish as time passed. The message that queer relationships face undue pressure from society that may affect every couple, regardless of how well matched they are, could've been conveyed with such an amazing contrast, between PutPat and JengPat.

We could've screamed and squealed at the fluff and smut, at P'Jeng and Nong Pat, and weeped as the episode slowly tore our hearts open from our chests. We could've had it all, Tee Bundit. Instead, this is what you chose to give us.

tagging my besties @waitmyturtles, and @lurkingshan who are in the trenches with me and @wen-kexing-apologist who wrote the post that gave me a lone ray of sunshine in all the madness

[icansoiwill]

Heart of Stone Chapter Four: Where one ends, Another Begins

~Summary: Joel's temperament will probably be the death of him. Even with his walls up so high, you still are tender with him. He fights with himself even more because of this, still wondering why he is so drawn to you.

~Pairing: Joel Miller x f!Reader

~Words: 3k

~Warnings: some slight similarities to the show that I thought would fit (I do not own the copyright), cursing (if that bothers you), mention of death, mention of cheating, (there are others I'm sure, but I can't think of them of course)

~A/N: So since it took me so long to do the other chapter, I thought I'd post this early. I also feel a lot better to write too. Also, this is a long one. I don't know how I was able to write this much, usually, I don't lol. I have some ideas for other fics as well. So I'll be posting those next too.

Previous Chapters: ~Chapter Three

The city was a lot rougher than Joel remembered from the last run over a year ago. A lot more buildings had fallen, more overgrowth of the various plants, and fewer clickers than he remembered. The lack of clickers and runners put him on edge. 

“You doing okay back here?” You had asked him, slightly removing him from his thoughts. 

“Yeah” He grunts in response avoiding eye contact. 

“Okay, just checking.” You say with a brush of annoyance. 

He knew that he wasn’t making a good impression on you. Not like it was a priority though. Honestly, he probably would have rather you stayed back at the QZ. You being here meant that there was another person to have to worry about. He didn’t want that. Ellie was so all over the place for him that she alone created enough concern for safety on this trip. 

And, you still had his jacket, from the night it rained, tied around your waist now. Which annoyed him only slightly. He didn’t want the jacket back by no means. You looked too good in it when you put it on last night. Joel even found it adorable when you tried brushing out the wrinkles that had been there forever. But, he felt that he shouldn’t have given it to you. It made it hard for him to concentrate on the surroundings in front of him. However, out of not wasting time, he gave you his. But damn, when you put it on… There was something about it. It was just a jacket. But you, in his clothes? He wanted more of it.

Joel realized his mind was wandering more than he wanted it to after that little interaction you gave him. Come on Joel, focus. He adjusted his shoulders and his hand placement on the gun. Walking along the downtown Boston streets, he looked to the left and to the right. Scanning the surroundings. When he looked in front of him he saw the connection you were making with Ellie. He hoped for your sake that, you weren’t getting too attached. Nevertheless, when Ellie found that joke book you two couldn’t stop giggling. Joel wouldn’t dare tell a soul, but he liked the sound of your laugh. It lingered in his mind, bouncing around in there like it was a boomerang, echoing in his ears. 

Joel still couldn’t understand how you had such a hold on him. He felt disgusted with himself for thinking this way about you with Tess still being an obligation to him. One thing Joel vowed to himself was that he would never cheat. Joel did like Tess, and liked what she could give him. But it didn’t feel like it was enough anymore. Joel began to realize that his feelings for Tess weren’t strong enough anymore. He knew that before he could even think about getting to know you more, he’d need to break it off with Tess. He felt drawn to you, since the day he went to meet Tess after her shift and Joel did want anything to get in the way of getting to know you.

Joel looked to the front of the line that had formed between the four of you. Tess is taking point. She looked back at Joel with a blank expression. He knew she was still frustrated with him after what happened at the museum. Ellie got scratched. He felt that he had the right to question whether or not he was putting himself in danger by taking her. Just because some kid says something, doesn’t mean it’s true. But Tess got annoyed, saying “Can’t you just take the win?” He wanted more than anything to take what good he could, but something seemed off. 

Joel only realized that Tess had fallen back and you had taken point after Tess tried talking to him. 

“Hey, did you hear me?” Tess questioned. 

“Huh? Oh, no.” Joel replied

“I asked if everything was okay with you.” 

“Oh, yeah. I’m good.”

“You just seem… distracted? Maybe? I don’t know. You just haven’t acted like this before.”

“I’m good Tess, really.” Joel tried convincing her. 

“Tell me. What’s really going on? Does this have to do with her? Do you like her or something?” Tess questioned flatly, “If you do, just tell me. It’s not like we were exclusive.”

“Let’s talk later. Now really isn’t the time for something like this.” Joel sighed. He’s not trying to prolong the inevitable. He’s not the type to string someone along. He just needs to be able to keep everyone safe and having conversations like these wasn’t going to help anyone keep a clear mind. Tess sighs and walks back up to the front to take point. 

By now, Joel knows they are close to the capitol building. As he scans the area again he sees plenty of Firefly symbols around. There are barricades up and barbed wire wrapped around planks to create small forts. They come up to the end of a street as they take a left. 

There it is the Capitol Building. 

Joel catches up to Tess and he takes point. He leads them halfway up the street where they stop behind a yellow Volkswagen Beetle. Joel watches for a second. It’s quiet. Too Quiet. 

“Where are they?” Tess whispered Joel. 

“I don’t know. Stay here.” He replied

Joel felt all three sets of eyes on him as he moved towards one of the big transport trucks. He made his way slowly and once he got there, open the passenger door in a swift motion, immediately pointing the gun into the cabin. Joel knew something must've gone awry. He saw blood spatter all over the seats and windshield. He turned around. Making his way to the other side of the truck.

“Stay there” he mouthed to them. 

A foul stench met his nose as he moved to the driver's side of the vehicle. Joel brought his guard up even more once he saw the body lying halfway under the truck. Sprawled out with a used fire extinguisher over their flattened head. Joel grimaced at the sight. He was never going to get used to it. But he pushed on, making his way to the back of the truck where the latched doors were. He didn’t hear the noises of a clicker or a person, but that also could mean nothing. Joel slowly unlatched the door and swung it open. 

Nothing.

“Joel?” You called for him.

“Everything’s fine,” Joel replied.

“What the fuck is going on?” Tess asked

“I don’t know,” Joel told her. 

“They went inside” Ellie states from behind him. 

Joel looks to where Ellie is and sees the trail of blood. Joel or you don’t have time to react before Tess is grabbing Ellie by the wrist forcefully. Pulling her into the building. 

“Tess!” Joel calls out

“Come on!” Tess yells back. 

Joel and you run after her. Tess has already opened the doors to the building before Joel or you even have time to make it up the stairs. You both walk in and see the wreckage. Bodies lying everywhere. Boxes and cargo rummaged through. 

“This had to be FEDRA,” you tell Joel. Joel nods in agreement. 

“What the fuck? Something has to be here. Something, come ON!” Tess yells as she is rummaging through everything. 

“Give it up Tess, we're done,” Joel tells her. 

“Ellie, where did Marlene say she was taking you?” Tess asks, totally ignoring Joel. 

“Uhh, I don’t know somewhere out west,” Ellie replies.

“Then one of them has got to have something right?” Tess begins patting down the cold bodies.

“Tess, there isn’t anything you can do,” You tell her, “You did everything you could.”

“Joel, Are you going to help?” Tess asks ignoring you now as well.

“No! I’m not going to help because there isn’t anything more for us to do. It’s over” Joel explains.

“It can’t be over,” Tess says getting up to face him.

“We have to go home,” Joel tells her. 

“That’s not my fucking home!” Tess yells, “I’m staying here. You know our luck had to run out sooner or later.” She says more calmly now. 

“Shit,” you say. 

“Fuck” Ellie says, “she’s infected.”

Joel turns to Ellie in disbelief. Why would she say something like that? Tess is too careful to get infected. But there’s silence from Tess. Joel turns back to look at Tess. Tears are welling up in her eyes. He looks down at her hand to see it shaking uncontrollably. 

Oh, fuck. Ellies right. 

“Let me see,” Joel asks. Tess doesn’t move. “Let me see!” He yells now. 

Tess grips her fingers around the right side of the collar of her shirt and jacket, pulling it to expose the scratch she has. Joel can’t believe his eyes. It’s already dark red. 

How did he miss this? How did she keep it from him? Did this happen back at the museum?

“Oops, right,” Tess says taking a step toward Joel. Joel makes eye contact with her now. Tess tries to walk up to him but out of fear, Joel takes a step back from her. There’s no fucking way this could happen. 

“Take your bandage off Ellie,” Tess says. She walks over to her and pushed up the sleeve of the jacket. 

“Look, Joel, you see this. This is proof. She’s immune. I got this 2 hours ago and it’s already worse.” Tess tells him, “Take her to Bill. He’ll know what to do.”

“No, there’s no way I can do that. They won’t do it. You know Bill”  Joel tells her

“Yes you can and they will.“ Tess reassures. 

“No, I can-“ Joel gets cut off by Tess. 

“Just do it, Joel! I have never asked you of anything, much less feel the same way about me. You need to do this for me. Please it’s the last thing I’ll ever ask of you Joel” Tess pleads. Joel feels a jab in his heart when Tess tells him this. He feels more guilt than ever now. 

Suddenly a truck pulls up. Joel sees you run to the window to take a peak. 

“It’s FEDRA” You them. 

“I’ll hold them off. Just go!” Tess tells Joel and the other two. 

Tess begins spilling gasoline all over the floor. Joel can hear the crash of the bins and the smell filled his nose. He swiftly grabs Ellie by the forearm and pushes the small of your back to indicate that you guys need to run. You turn to the doors that were behind you. Opening them to let Joel and Ellie through. You run ahead of them looking for the exit as Joel tries to pick up the pace with Ellie fighting against him. 

“No, Joel! Don’t leave her!” Ellie yells.

Ellie fighting his grip only makes him hang on tighter. He makes sure to catch up to you, following you through the back doors of the capitol building. You push them shut to slow FEDRA down. But, Joel knows that it won’t matter. He knows what Tess is about to do. Ellie isn’t fighting him anymore, but running ahead in between the short distance of you and him. You, Ellie, and Him make it far enough out to be considered safe-ish. Then…

BOOM!

Joel grabs both you and Ellie to crouch down. In the same instance, Joel turns to look behind him. Flames billow out from the building at all sides, anywhere the fire can reach oxygen. Painful cries from within the building are heard. Joel doesn’t know what prompts him but he turns to look at you. Tears are building up in your eyes. Another jab at his heart surfaces. He knew he would never want to see you like this again. However, he turns around and walks on. Leaving you and Ellie to stand there in the horror of the events that just happened. 

______________

A day had passed and we are barely out of Boston, just now getting into the suburbs. Joel is acting completely numbed and shut down after what happened with Tess at the capitol building. He’s talking less, not like he did much before, and he is much more cautious. Now more focused on getting Ellie out of his life. I had tried talking to him yesterday, maybe taking his mind off things.

“Hey, I just want-“ I began to tell him. 

“You need to take point” Joel harshly interrupts making no eye contact with you. 

He hasn’t spoken a word since then, only communicating in hand signals if he hears something or when he asks for the map. I’ve made sure to keep point, definitely avoiding going and talking to him again. I wanted to be there for him. I already miss Tess too. She was as close of a friend as I had gotten in the last year. It hurt me to avoid him like this. But, from what little I knew about Joel, I got the understanding that it was probably good for him that it be this way for now. 

Walking our way through the suburbs of Boston, we made stops at a few houses to get some supplies, definitely some food. We were running out already because neither Joel nor I brought enough food for any trip longer than a day. I was starving. I was trying not to think about it because the more I focused on it the hungrier I felt. 

While being at the front I made sure to keep my head up looking around. Checking my surroundings. Occasionally catching a glimpse of Joel because I couldn’t help myself. I wanted to make sure he was okay. I felt the need to look out for him since he was looking out for us. I go to take a peek at Joel out of the corner of my eye. This time when I go to look over at Joel, he is stopped. He turns to look at me. 

“Let’s look through this one.” Joel gestures to the house he’s in front of. 

With most of the other houses looking like they had been bombed, I’m Joel wanted to check if there was anything good. We make our way into the house. Going through the front door there was an opening to the living room to the right and stairs to the left. A somewhat long hallway connected to the kitchen. Joel goes to move down the hallway.

“Check the upstairs.” Joel directed. 

I pull out my gun and make my way up slowly. At the top of the stairs is a hallway with rooms. The first door is closed, so I brace myself to the right of the door, taking the handle slowly and turning it. When I open it, I point my gun in. 

Nothing. 

It was just the bathroom. I check the rest of the rooms. Going through all of them, looking for anything useful. More weapons, bullets, maybe some medicine. I found myself in the master bedroom looking through the drawers. I could hear light footsteps making their way closer to me. I look up to find Ellie going into the kid's bedroom. I keep searching around when I hear Ellie getting excited. 

“No way! I found another one!” Ellie said enthusiastically. I’m guessing it had to be one of those comic books. I kept looking for something, anything. With no luck, I go to walk out of the room. I run into a familiar chest. Again. 

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this” I joke sarcastically with Joel. Maybe trying to chip at his 

There is no space between us when I look up to make eye contact with him. He’s looking down at me. I can see his brown irises clearly. 

“Did you find anything?” Joel asks me, not breaking eye contact. I can see him searching my eyes. 

“No,” I tell him almost meekly, “But I think Ellie did,” I say gesturing to the room behind him.

Joel turns to go to the kid's room. It’s decorated with dirty trophies and faded ribbons from various sports. Basketball, softball, soccer. 

Man, this kid was active. 

Pictures of teams were plastered all over bulletin boards. I turn to look at Joel. I watched him as he looks around the room for a second. I see a twinge of pain come across his face. 

Out of all the places, why did this affect him?

I could tell Joel wanted to get out of there. He moves past me with determination to leave.

“Come on, Ellie. We got to go.” Joel tells her as he bushes by swiftly. 

Ellie goes first to leave the room. I go after her. When we make it down the stairs and Joel, with his back to us, is waiting on the front porch. His silhouette looks intimidating and inviting all at the same time. If Ellie wasn’t here you might’ve made a move. But now isn’t the time for that kind of thing. Ellie makes her way around him and goes down the stairs of the porch. Before he takes his first step, I come up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder. He almost flinches at the touch. His head turned in my direction. 

“Look, I know you don’t want to talk to me. But, I’m here.” I tell him looking directly into his eyes. 

He gently nods his head, keeping eye contact. After that, I move to catch up to Ellie at the end of the sidewalk. 

“Looks like you got some reading to do. Huh?” I ask her. 

“Yeah, I can’t wait to start reading this. It’s the next one in the series too.” Ellie says excitedly. 

“Let me know what happens” 

I walk ahead to lead the way. We still had a long way to go and it was going to get dark in the next couple of hours. I wanted to make sure we at least made it to the city limit of Boston. This trip was going to be a long, tiring one. 

Hopefully, I can get Joel to warm up to Ellie in the least. Doing that will make these things easier. I’m sure time will tell if they get along. Maybe I can convince Ellie to tell him some of those puns from the book she found. Some of them are actually funny. Maybe Joel will think the same. 

I felt my stomach grumble again. 

Hopefully, we can find some food too…

[disillusionedmonster]

alright i looked at your tags ❤️ here you go assface

1: fuckwit. heh. thanks for the new swear bbg

2: lack of critical thinking?? you’ll agree with anything in the radfem tag. you only read articles and watch news that uses misinformation tactics. you’re no critical thinker.

3: religious groupthink…???? huh? what religion? WHAT RELIGION??? youre the one falling victim to groupthink, to peer pressure.

4: being a cisgender woman doesn’t make you immune to being an asshole, to being a cunt. what the hells wrong with you. youre no sinless god. you’re a human- a human whos chosen to be a cunt

5: MAKING LIGHT OF SUICIDE??? NONONONONO, IM NOT TAKING THIS LIGHTLY, BABY, YOU SHOULD CHANGE OR DIE. and also ‘suicide affects transphobe the worst’ is nothing but further proof that you never look at anything other than misinformation. suicide rates among trans people are by FAR the highest.

1. Enjoy it's an Aussie swear ✌️

2. Actually I was peaked by reading the misogynistic garbage that came out of the mouths of transwomen. For example Andrea Long Chu defines being a woman as "an open mouth, an expectant asshole and blank, blank eyes". I have read books and articles and blog posts from both radfems and transpeople. I don't want to live in an echo chamber, I would much rather expand my knowledge and use my critical thinking to come to my own conclusion. When you expand your scope and look at gender identity as a whole it becomes clear that gender identity ideology is exactly that and an ideology.

3. Which brings me to this point. Gender identity ideology, like all religions, is based on the idea of mind-body dualism. This is the idea that the mind/soul can be separated from the body. You cannot be born in the wrong body because we are our bodies. Gender identity relies on faith, it relies on me believing being a woman/man is somehow connected to an internal sense of femininity/masculinity instead of our physical bodies we are born with. The only thing that makes someone a man/woman is their biology; personality traits, clothing expression, stereotypes, likes and dislikes do not dictate whether someone is a man or a woman. Gender identity ideology is the opposite side of the monotheistic religion coin which asserts that a woman must be feminine (submissive, a good mother ECT) and a man must be masculine (the bread winner, strong, a leader ECT). Gender identity ideology denies reality by asserting that sex is not real and that is has no bearing on our lives. Much like most religions it is science denialist and denies the reality everyone can observe. You also try and include everyone on your religion, even those who do not believe in it. Much like a Christian will call an Atheist a satanist you will call people who observe reality (ie anyone remotely critical of gender ideology) TERFs in order to silence them. Gender ideology even excommunicates people and encourages people to not engage with radfem ideas. Therefore, you create an echo chamber of your ideology (religion) which stops people from being able to detest or even question the ideology without facing social consequences. It's not my job to constantly affirm someone else's identity, particularly when it is built on regressive patriarchal ideas and harms women and LGB people.

4. I know that women can be assholes, but that doesn't mean you should be throwing misogynistic slurs at them ie the cword. Just because a woman disagrees with you or is a bad person doesn't justify misogyny against them. Same goes for all oppressed groups. If a transperson was being awful I wouldn't throw the t-slur at them because that would be a shit thing to do.

5. You are taking this lightly. By telling someone to kill themselves you are perpetuating a culture of making light of suicide. You are removing the gravity of what it means to commit suicide by making it a little throw away comment on a website. It makes people take suicide less seriously, particularly if someone kills themselves because of online bullying and hate. The highest suicide rate is actually men with them accounting for 75%+ of suicide deaths. This varies from country to country. This high rate of death is because men select more violent methods of killing themselves (guns for example) while women who attempt suicide more than any other group are less likely to succeed because they choose non-violent methods (like pills). Trans suicide statistics are difficult to actually look at because the T and the LGB are often grouped together. But needless to say there should be support for all people, trans or not, struggling mentally and with suicidal ideation.

Lifeline Aus: 13 11 14

Beyond Blue Aus: 1300224636

[halloiambored]

Random Snippet

CW: villain whump scenario. I haven’t included much, just a few kicks, some implied conditioning - past mention of wishing for death.

A laugh echoed across the cell, causing Villain’s every nerve to light up with warning.

“Ha - oh, Villain! What the hell ‘you doing in the corner?”

As much as they wanted to run, to stand up, to do anything other than cower on the ground - they were frozen. Their every muscle was locked tight.

The cold concrete warmed beneath their frantic, gasping breaths.

“I asked—” the kick was unexpected, slamming into their rib cage with unnecessary force. “You a question. Now get the fuck off the ground.”

Even after everything, their tears still found a way to drip down to the dust. They didn’t know it was possible, to cry as much as they had in the last week… weeks? Months?

Who the hell cares anymore?

It took them longer than expected to register the command, and as punishment another kick caught them off guard. This time his boot connected with their bruised hip.

Supervillain smiled at the delightful reaction of his captive - who was trying to muffle their pained groan against their sleeve. It was alluring, to be fair, but it was also obviously, unmistakably, absolutely against the rules.

At the exact same moment, Villain seemed to realize their mistake.

“No! Fuck you, I don’t— please—” their terrified eyes looked up, searching for some kind of mercy.

Such a shame, they wouldn’t find any.

“You broke the rules, darling.” Supervillain’s moves were erratic, difficult to follow. He was buzzing with a dangerous energy, the kind of mood that ended with Villain passed out and chained to the ceiling.

Like a switch, they were sobbing. It really was pitiful, wasn’t it? The way Supervillain reduced them to such a mess. At one point, this wouldn’t have bothered them at all.

They would have lashed out, spewing profanities until their screams cut them off - just to fight again when they could. But now? The very thought made their sobs more desperate, the concept of fighting back sent stabs of anxiety into their aching stomach.

Back then, they didn’t know. Not what pain felt like.

Back then… they had no idea how badly it hurt to be broken, to beg your tormentor to kill you. Just to make it stop.

So as Supervillain strung up their chains, a hop in his step, Villain tried to calm their panicked state. It would only make it worse - Supervillain was trying to make them into a weapon, after all, and weapons are strong.

Not sensitive. Not weak.

Nothing like Villain, whose nails were biting into the skin on their forearms - and whose mind was wiped blank with terror.

But then again, Supervillain didn’t deign to ask their opinion to begin with.

And the lack of resemblance wouldn’t help them now.

Nothing would.

[raggaraddy]

Play Pretend

Summary: When the chance comes to escape you're are going to play it smart to make sure you get away.

Trigger Warnings: Murder, gun usage, abuse, violence, kidnapping, imprisonment.

Jungkook

Yandere!Jungkook

Mafia!Jungkook

It's been about a week since Jungkook locked you in. Only now were the bruises on your ribs going down. And no matter how quickly he shifted back to normal and calmed down the damage was done, he’d shown you a truly terrifying side of himself and you knew he couldn’t be trusted anymore. The worst of it was that he never even feigned an apology. He didn’t think he was in the wrong to react like he did. He just went from one day to the next like nothing was different.

You felt so stupid. You had thought there was something not right with him the first time you met him. But instead of trusting your gut, you got swept up in his good looks and charm. And that lack of discernment is the reason why you've been trapped in his house for a week now. You tried to tell him that people would be looking for your eventually. But with full certainty, he assured you that wouldn’t be the case. You weren’t sure why or how, but you knew that he 100% believed it. And that made your situation even more despondent.

This evening, for the first time in 8 days, Jungkook finally left the house.  You had thought it might be a chance for you to look for an escape, but to your disappointment, he left one of his ‘employees’ with you.  You still can't pinpoint what he does exactly, but all of the people you have seen with Junkook have a similar dangerous vibe. This one is no exception. Tall, strong, large and mean-looking. It completely dashed your hopes of getting away.  That was until you heard the clear and threatening order Jungkook gave him.  For the second time, you were seeing this sweet kind young man have men double his age, who were larger and tougher looking than him, look weak and fearful. The exact wording slipped your mind, but the gist of it was if anything happens to you while he is gone, Jungkook will violently kill your guard.

After a few hours of stirring, half hesitant to try and half trying to perfect the idea, you finally decide you need to at least attempt a prison break.

Calling the guard, you drop to the bedroom floor, curling yourself tight, clutching your ribs. You knew your bruises were still purple and black there, so it would be the most convincing place to say you had pain.  After a few screams, the man dashes in his face draining at seeing you writhing on the floor in agony.

“What happened?” He barks.

“I fell. It hurts.” You wheeze, knowing it's best to keep your details simple to maintain the act.

He bends to help you up and you wail a faked cry of pain, applying your years of watching dramas into practice. You’re not sure how believable your act is, but the man is so swept up in the panic of the moment, it doesn’t really matter.  As he gets you onto the bed, you pull up your shirt slightly exposing your marks and bruises and it's the tipping point.  He goes from worried to frantic.

"Sh-" he whispers the exclamation under his breath. He looks to ponder his options, and you hope your theory is right and that he is too afraid to call Jungkook first. "Alright, you need to go to the hospital." He declares. You have to lean more into the pained acting to stop a smile from coming onto your face, thankful that your plan is so far working.

The guard picks you up bridal style and carries you downstairs with an urgent patter to his steps. Getting you into the back seat of the car, he rushes into the front and begins driving. Despite his craze, you're surprised to see him driving so steadily and rationally. Abiding the road rules and sticking to the speed limits.

You think your best, or only option would be to get some privacy with Doctor at the hospital and tell him everything. Beg him to call the police. The one risk for going to the hospital is the possibility of the guard not leaving you to talk to the Doctor.

"Fuck." The man hisses under his breath as his phone begins to ring.

The call connects to the cars Bluetooth as he answers, blasting Jungkooks voice in surround sound.

"I'm at home, but you're not. Where are you?" He questions with an ominous tone. The drivers head flicks back to you, his uncertainty flashing through his eyes as he decides what or how much of the truth to tell.

"She hurt herself. Her chest. So I am taking her to the hospital." He reveals everything with a shake in his voice.

Jungkook bursts into a sharp laugh, the sudden piercing of it through the speakers making both of you jump. "She's fine. Bring her back now."

You spring upright, eyes wide. The car rolls to a stop at the traffic light, the man's gaze meeting yours in the rear-view mirror. Jungkook knows! He knows you're faking it. He's going to hurt you again when you get back. You can't let him take you back.

The second the car stops, you don't pause to think, yanking on the door handle and throwing yourself out of the car. Because it is nearly midnight, the suburban area is desolate, but there are a few houses that still have lights on. You know your best option is one of those.

Breaking into a sprint you run across the main road over the island and towards the first house you can see any sign of life in. In a mad frenzy, you begin to pound on the door, calling and screaming for help, begging for them to open. Behind you, you can feel the guard quickly catching up and your pleading gets more desperate.

Giving you pure relief, the front door opens on a middle-aged man looking nearly as petrified as you. You don't wait to explain or discuss anything instead barge past him, hurling yourself through the open door. You spin on your heels, slamming the entrance closed. It doesn't shut though. The full body of the guard powers through the door colliding into you and the homeowner, knocking you both onto the ground in a painful blow.

With a heavy breath and a wild look in his eyes, he stalks over top of you, sealing you all in. The guard pulls a gun and his phone from his pocket, the call to Jungkook seeing to still be active. "Alright, I have h-" he speaks into the receiver, pointing the weapon at the man, rendering him frozen.

"Where are you?!" Jungkook yells, making the guard pull the phone from his ear. Even from a few meters away you can hear his hostile voice loudly and clearly.

For 10 minutes you are sat in the living room numb with fear. You could hear how furious Jungkook was. You can see how mad and nervous your guard is, and you can feel how confused and terrorised the older man is. Without movement, the three of you are stuck in a tense stare off, none able to speak.

On the 11th minute, there is a knock on the front door. The guard peers through the side window and his breath catches in his throat.

You start to physically shake as Jungkook comes in with two more men at his back, looking like an uneven, unsettling mix of calm and intense. Walking in with his hands in his pockets, he takes the size of all three people in the room.

"You left the car in the middle of the road?" He asks the guard, his gaze staying fixed on you.

"Yes. I had to chase her down." He tries to explain shortly.

"Ah," Junkook muses with a click of his tongue. "Get rid of it." He orders one of the other men who came in with him.

The guy nods, rushing to follow the instruction. As the door slams shut, Jungkook walks towards you squatting to your level. "Your ribs hurt Kitten?" he asks with a faked sweetness. He leans down digging his forefinger and thumb into your ribcage. It brings back the true pain of your injuries, making you squeal and writhe while trying to get away from him. His hand wraps around your side, keeping you in place and pushing you to the floor, crushing and gripping your wounds, bringing shortness to your breath and tears to your eyes.

After tormenting you for a few miserable minutes, Jungkook scoffs out a short laugh, standing back up nearly stepping on top of you. "Pick him up" He orders your guard, gesturing toward the homeowner on the floor behind you. He does so, having to hold a lot of the man's weight to get him to his feet. "Anyone else in the house?"

"No, I don't think so." The guard replies with uncertainty.

"Well you're not exactly reliable, are you?" Jungkook sneers.

You jump as two incredibly loud bangs echo out. One after the other, both the guard and the older man drop to the floor. Looking up at Jungkook horrified, he is standing over you holding a gun having just shot the two men. Your stomach is churning at the realization of what he just did. There is only a weak grunt and then silence from the older man, his body slumping still and lifeless. But from the other, there are continued struggled and gasped moans. Jungkook coolly walks to him, another shot firing and the pained sounds stop. Only silence and the pulsing ringing in your ears from the sudden blasts remain.

You're motionless. Panting broken breaths. Too in shock to move. Too scared to do anything. You can't believe this is happening. You're sure you're about to die.

"Go check the house." Jungkook kneels down beside you again, throwing the order to the second man that came with him.

With just the two of you left in the room, he comes closer, speaking lowly and gruffly in your ear. "See what you did Y/n." He motions to the side of you, to the murderous and violent display. You can't bring yourself to look. You know the sounds of those two men will haunt you for the rest of your life. You don't want to add the gruesome image of it as well. "Do want to play? You want to pretend to be in pain?" His hand roughly brushes the hair from off your face. He switches the gun from one hand to the other, his now free left hand digging tightly into your jaw, turning you to him. "Well, we're going home Kitten. And you won't need to pretend when I'm done with you."

[missblissy]

I don't think I even need to ask but 👀👀👀👀 7 with Alastor. Tyty.

((Hi welcome to the HC where Alastor has a degrading kink of some kind so I wrote this as soon as I got the chance to. And No problem Nonny >w> I hope you enjoy!! Here is the song featured in this fic!!))

Kisses || 7: Passionate kisses || Closed!!

He sat there, fingers on the ivory keys, looking at you as if you were the only person left in this burning hellscape of a world. This was it, the moment of his life he looked forward to most. Nothing else filled him with the desire he had now, as he watched you circle him on this stage. He played the piano, you sang the song. It was as simple as that. Perfection at its finest. The crowd watched, enjoying what little entertainment this hotel had to offer. You took in a breath, eyes only on Alastor. You didn't care about anything else, not the crowd, not the stage. It was only him, this was only for him. He wore only a red shirt, with his sleeves rolled up, exposing the odd nature and truth of his gloves, which weren't gloves at all. There was something sexy about that though, the way the dark colorations bleed like veins up his arms. Alastor even tried his bowtie for a regular tie and he lacked his monocle. You, on the other hand, had a lovely matching red dress, the sleeves hung just off the shoulders, leaving them bare and exposed. Your dress glittered ever so slightly under the spotlight and as you walked slowly, the long side slit shows your slender legs, with black heels. The two of you made quite the handsome pair.

You perked your rosy lips and as you walked by him, you made sure to trail your fingers along his shoulder, to his neck, and along his other shoulder, "Missed me, missed me, now you've got to kiss me. If you kiss me, mister, I might tell my sister. If I tell her, mister, she might tell my mother and my mother, mister, she might tell my father! And my father, mister, he won't be too happy... And he'll have his lawyer to come up from the city and arrest you, mister, so I wouldn't miss me. If you get me, mister, see!"

The piano keys bucked out their notes with each aggressive keynote. He was entrapped in your gaze, sexy and hungry and willing to be misled by you. He narrowed his gaze as you made your way around the piano. Just as before, you traced your fingers along, taking slow long steps with the sway of your hips. But the thing that struck him the most was how you sang in such a low whisper. Of course, it was into an old microphone (Which honestly didn't make it better) but your voice was hushed into a whisper as if it was only for him to hear, despite being on a stage, "Missed me, missed, me now you've got to kiss me, If you kiss me, mister, you must think I'm pretty... If you think so, mister, you must want to fuck me! If you fuck me, mister, it must mean you love me- If you love me, mister, you would never leave me! It's as simple as can be!"

You winked at him and gave a little flip of your hair as the sound of a coin slot in the background matched your body language. And with every new verse, Alastor only played the piano louder, more aggressively. The flicker in his eye and the lust in his red gaze only pushed you furthered on. You circled around him a second time, eventually stopping behind him, you leaned over his shoulder and sang in a soft voice, toying with his emotions, "Missed me, missed me, now you've got to kiss me. If you miss me, mister, why do you keep leaving? If you trick me, mister, I will make you suffer! And they'll get you, mister, put you in the slammer, and forget you, mister! Then you'll miss me, won't you...? Won't you miss me? Won't you miss me? Won't you miss me?"

You draped your arms over him, letting your hands run down the front of his chest, slipping over the silk of his suit. You made sure to lean in and smile while watching his fingers along with the white keys, "Missed me, missed me, now you've got to kiss me. If you kiss me, mister, take responsibility. I'm fragile, mister, just like any girl would be. And so misunderstood! So treat me delicately..."

Quickly you moved away from him and dramatically threw a hand in the air, basking it over your face as if to block out the sun. You did a twirl until you stopped beside the piano and flung yourself over it. The slit up your dress exposed your leg as you lifted it up and crossed it over the other, "Missed me, missed me, now you've gone and done it! Hope you're happy in the county penitentiary! It serves you right for kissing little girls! But I will visit, if you miss me, say you miss me!" You paused then sat up straight and turned your head quickly to face Alastor. Your hair bounced and swished into your face as you put a finger to your lip and asked in an innocent voice, "How's the food they feed you? Do you miss me? Will you... kiss me through the window? Do you miss me, miss me.. ?" You pushed yourself off the piano and walked quickly back to Alastor, standing behind him once again as you let a hand trail down the side of his face. And as if you were really asking it, you sang out your last line, "Will they ever let you go? I miss my mister so."

With the last note from the piano, the curtains swished together, closing you two of from the crowd. With the newfound privacy, you sashayed your way over to him. As he held out his hand, you slipped your fingers across his, down his pam, and latched on to his wrist as he pulled you towards him. Your finger intertwined with his, while his other hand snaked around your waist, resting near your lower back. He held you standing there, one of his knees between your legs. He brought the back of your hand to his lips and gave it a soft kiss, "You love making me out to be the bad guy, don't you?" He flicked his gaze up to you, half-lidded and dark.

"You're horrible," You teased, then smirked as you tilted your head slightly, loose strands of hair falling into your face, "Terrible, utterly disgusting."

Alastor gave your arm a gentle yank but strong enough to swiftly pull you in, "Go on," He took his hand and grabbed your by your chin, his thumb running over your bottom lip.

You took this chance to get closer, only inches from his face, "A degenerate, dumpster fire of a man. A truly wretched soul,"

"Oh you're too kind, my little doe," His gaze tore into you, dark, red, and glowing with passion. He took a long stare letting his eyes travel over your body that so perfectly fit the damn dress, "Anything else?"

"You're awful in every way that I love," You grabbed him by his tie and pulled him as close as he could possibly get, "I hate you, do you love me?"

He pulled in a long deep breath that followed with a low a deep growl of a laugh. It was twisting around in the static of his radio-tinted voice, going as low to make him sound like an animal hiding in the dark. He took the chance to close the space between you and connect your lips. At the same time his arms wrapped around you while his claws dug into your skin.

The prick of his teeth tugging at your lips, enticing you to give in made it hard to resist him. You could feel the smirk off his lips and even the echo of his laughter as you melted into his embrace. You found yourself week, letting a hiccup of a moan slip from your lungs. Alastor made quick work to kiss your even harder, deepening the kiss until he had tasted every part of your mouth. He started to pull away but you wanted more. The weight shifted between you two. You could feel him shift and give way as you crawled into his lap. There was a point there when you thought you both might have tipped off the bench and into the piano. But that never happened, so you curled your arms around Alastor's neck while a pair of fingers tangled into his hair. Shivers traveled down your skin as you felt his fingers drift up your back and tug at the back hems of dress, not too far from where the zipper could be, if only he really meant it and wasn't teasing you instead.

You let out a growl and pulled away quickly. You had to catch your breath, and as you huffed with a dark blush on your face, Alastor looked over your perfect and flustered face. He soaked in the fact that he could make you like this, flushed red cheeks, lust in your eyes, and gasping for air.

He had enough of being here, toying with you behind the curtains of a stage. With one arm around you, he pulled you close and his face was well pressed against your chest. His smile was large and wicked as he used his free hand to snap his fingers. In a cloud of smoke and screens, the two of you had vanished from sight, well into the shadows and far away from any prying eyes to witness what happened next.

[screamingatanemptyroom]

Please Fix the Story pt 22 - Sci Fi

New part is here! Just a few more in this world. Just realized that it's been about 1 year since I've started this story. Wow.

Masterpost linked here.

Enjoy!

____________________________

The school was greatly relieved to hear that I had made a Connection and was no longer a danger to myself and others. They immediately rescinded my suspension and "encouraged" me to resume training with my new partner as soon as possible. I found the quick 180 amusing, but didn't argue.

It took multiple video calls with Alaira’s father to reassure him that everything was okay, and a few more to prevent him from throwing a parade for Liam to thank him for matching his daughter. His tears of joy at the news was a complicated moment for me.

I had felt a deep sense of joy, but it was an emotion that didn’t belong to me... it belonged to Alaira. Watching him celebrate his daughter’s recovery felt hypocritical, knowing that in the world that I hadn’t taken over, his daughter hadn’t had a good end. She had died alone and afraid, her mind fragmented.

But there was no way to tell him that.

The mission completion status on my communication device had risen quickly from 1% to 42%. Liam and I spent every waking moment together, talking, joking, and learning about each other. We practiced making the connection with the Mech, powering and controlling it now a smooth, painless process. It was natural, coming as easily to me as breathing. Working with him felt less like learning with a new partner as gaining back a missing part of me.

I was happy.

But not everyone was glad to hear we had matched.

Shortly after our match was made public, Liam and I were walking down the hallway after class, and were forced to stop by a young, angry woman blocking our path.

“It’s a lie!” Princess Ilene glared at Liam as she faced us down. “William can’t be a real Connector! He’s always been just a useless waste. He's a stain on the royal family!”

Liam seemed unfazed by his sister’s cruel words, as if he were used to it. The lack of reaction and the implications behind it made me even angrier. I stepped forward, hiding him partly behind me, and smiled pleasantly. My expression and pleasant tone obviously confused the princess, who took a step back.

“Ilene, Ilene, there’s just so much wrong with what you said… I don’t even know where to begin!” I shrugged. “ But, correcting idiocy IS my calling in life, so let me give it a shot:”

Ilene’s face was red with rage, but I ignored her incoherent sputtering, holding up a finger.

“First, Liam is capable of making the connection. He just had a strong barrier. Obviously it isn't impossible, or he and I wouldn’t be matched. “ I held up a second finger. “Secondly, and more importantly: even if he COULDN’T make the connection, he still wouldn’t be useless. He’s a kind, wonderful person, and that’s more than you can say about most Guardians or Connectors… present company included.”

“ How dare…” Princess Ilene took a step back. “What are you trying to say?”

I blinked, shocked “Oh, was I not being obvious enough? I don’t like you. I think Liam is a much better human being than you, and find it pitiful that you try to derive your self worth from putting him down.”

Liam stepped forward, grabbing my hand. “It’s ok…”

“No, its not. You don’t deserve for people to call you trash.” I felt emotional, as if something deep inside me was trying to break free.

“It’s always been like this.” He shrugged, “I’m used to being alone.”

____________________________

“Friends, family?”

The man in front of me was smiling at my question, but the expression was so sad it made me want to cry.

“None.” He twisted his hands in his lap, looking away. “I’m supposed to be alone.”

“Why?”

“Supposedly that’s my fate.”

____________________________

“You are not trash.” I tightened my grip on Liam’s hand. “ and you’re not alone anymore.”

“I know.” He smiled, “Thanks.”

Princess Ilene spoke up, obviously tired of being ignored. “How dare you trample on Chris’s kindness and reject him for this tr…” She started to say the word “trash” but seeing my face, nervously trailed off and started again. “You don’t even know if you two have a high enough resonance match to ward off your mental degradation…!”

“We do. It’s gone.”

She paused, thrown by my matter of fact tone. “… But what if you’re a higher match with Chris…”

“Don’t care. I hate him.”

“… But…”

“You do bring up a good point, though.” I turned to Liam. “We should see what our resonance match rate is.”

He looked nervous. “What if it isn’t very high?”

“Doesn’t matter. We’re already partners. I’m just curious.” I grinned. “Plus, I’m pretty sure it’s really high, and I’d love to use that to shut people up.”

He chuckled at that. “If it means that much to you to rub it into people’s faces...”

“It does.”

We walked towards the match center, leaving Princess Ilene stunned into silence behind.

____________________________

Liam got more anxious the closer we got to the match center. “You promise you won’t break our partnership if our match score is low?”

“You know I wouldn’t do that.” I didn’t feel insulted at his questioning. I could feel his insecurity, the need for me to say out loud what he thought he knew. “Low or high, we’re partners. You’re stuck with me.”

“Good.” He sighed, grinning. “I like being stuck with you.”

Finally, we were facing the machine that had failed us both so many times. Irrationally, I felt a little nervous, the many prior failures of the past few weeks too fresh and painful to completely forget.

Liam stepped away from me, reaching out and placed his hands on the panel first.

“Unrecognized tester. Please let down your mental barrier to proceed with Match testing.”

I rubbed my forehead tiredly as the robotic rejection echoed loudly around the room; “I forgot your barrier is still around since it doesn’t effect me anymore.”

“Honestly, I had forgotten too.” He responded with a happy smile.

A crowd was starting to gather, curious at our actions. As more and more people realized what we were doing, I began hearing the whispering between them.

“Didn’t she go crazy?”

“...thought she couldn’t match?”

“He has a barrier? ...never could match.”

“I heard they already formed a connection.”

“Heard her dad is a general, spread the rumor of her matching so she wouldn’t get kicked out.”

“Isn’t she matched up with Chris?”

“Why are they here?”

I grabbed Liam’s hand again, feeling relieved when I felt his warm skin against my own. “Don’t listen to them.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t.” He stared straight at me, ignoring the hostile words and gazes of the crowd. “You’re beside me, and that’s all that matters.”

I squeezed his hand in my own. A strong desire welled up within me to be worthy of the trust he gave me. I wanted to show everyone what Liam could do, the bond we had... but of course it couldn't be too easy.

“We just have to figure out how to get your barrier down enough for the machine to read you." I glanced down at my hand that was still holding his. "I mean, I’m touching you now, right? There’s no barrier between us?”

He stared down at our clasped hands, his cheeks tinged pink. “Yes, I feel you. I mean, no, there’s no barrier.”

“Good!" I gestured to the pad with my free hand. "Then why don't you try again while we're still touching each other?”

He placed his hand back on the machine.

“Please let down your mental barrier to proceed with Match testing.” The machine's voice repeated itself calmly.

His hand fell away, frustrated. I could feel his anxiety, and worried deep down that I had made a wrong choice. I did this to reassure him that we are a good match. To shut up everyone saying that it's a made up story to justify the removal of my suspension. To prove to everyone that Liam isn't useless, even by their own stupid standards.

But none of this will happen if he can't use the machine.

I thought it over, and grinned as I came up with a plan. “Hmm… Well, there’s one other thing we can try…”

I leaned in and kissed him, grabbing his free hand with my own and placing it on the pad together. His breath caught in his chest and he froze in shock very briefly before kissing back. In that moment I almost forgot why I had kissed him in the first place, but the robotic voice quickly reminded me.

“Resonance match detected…. Scanning…. Resonance Frequency Match...100%.”

The voice had barely faded before there were shouts of shock from the crowd. The room descended into chaos at the announcement. I broke away from Liam, who was still distracted, and stared at him.

“Did that machine just say… we are a 100 PERCENT match? I didn’t even think that was possible!”

Liam blinked. “I’m sorry, I dinwhat did you say?”

“We’re a perfect match, Liam.” I laughed. “I knew this was a great idea!”

Definitely didn't completely doubt the plan halfway through... yep.

“So… no one can separate us then?” His body relaxed, and he reached out, pulling me against himself and hugging me tightly. I felt the trembling of his muscles and knew that the anxiety he had shown was only the tip of the iceberg. His true fears and insecurities were still well hidden, even from me.

I hugged him back, waiting for him to back away. The crowd’s murmuring were now a loud roar, as everyone discussed a match rate that most thought impossible to achieve. And there, in the back of the crowd, I saw a solitary figure standing there, watching us with a blank stare.

Chris.

I shuddered, holding Liam tighter. The first thing I had done when Liam and I announced our match was to report to the authorities Chris holding me in his room. I suspected him of drugging me as well, remembering the prick of the needle before falling unconscious.

I was laughed at.

“Why would a student with a crystal clear reputation go out of his way to kidnap a general’s daughter? He already had a match, a better one than his resonance with you if I recall. If anyone had motive to kidnap someone, it would be you to him!”

The words were cutting, made worse by the pity on their faces.

“It’s obvious: your mind was breaking down due to the strain without a Connector, and came up with this fantastical plot of being kidnapped.”

And despite my objections, the claim was dropped. I hadn’t seen Chris since the day we parted in his room.

Until now.

His gaze held mine. He was expressionless, watching us with a detached, almost clinical air. I would have almost thought he was bored, or at least uncaring about the situation in front of him… if not for his eyes…

His eyes were burning with rage.

I looked away first feeling an odd sense of familiarity, as if something similar had happened before.

____________________________

A few days later Liam and I had our first mock battle. Suspended together in the Connection chamber within the Mech, the constant physical and mental connection with Liam made operating the Mech much easier than it ever had been alone.

I fought with a sword, having abandoned the dual guns completely. I breathed a sigh of relief at the speed I could move at as I ducked under the enemy Mech’s attack. Turning with the spin of my dodge, I used the momentum and I swung around to slash the torso of our opponent with the sword.

“Nice hit!” Liam’s voice in my headset was excited. He was cheering me on along the way, spurring me to show off with more complex moves when possible, hoping to impress him.

I pressed the attack, slamming the Mech with the shoulder of ours, and kicking it to the ground before it could recover its balance. The movements were smooth, and my head was clear of any pain. The prior drain and discomfort of controlling the giant robot was completely gone.

As our opponent fell to the ground, I pressed the tip of the sword into the Mech’s neck. The referee called out our victory, and the crowd around the arena cheered, but it was just noise to me. All that mattered was Liam’s excited babbling in my ear.

“That was awesome! I’ve always wondered what it felt like to win a Mech fight, and it’s so much cooler than I ever imagined! This is great! When can we fight again?”

“Glad you had fun, Liam.” I laughed at the innocent delight in his voice. After the stress and pain I had experienced since waking up in this world, the uncertainty of who I was and why I was here, there was something simple and healing about being by Liam’s side.

I feel happy.

I was nervous about admitting it, even to myself, as if the simple acknowledgement of the positive emotion would be enough to destroy it. But I couldn’t deny it. I WAS happy.

After we had undocked and changed, Liam and I relaxed in the fighter’s lounge. Liam as always, had a container that he pulled out of a bag, opening it to reveal a slice of cake. I took it from him with a murmur of thanks, and after the first bite sighed with joy.

“I've been meaning to ask you: Where do you get this cake? It's obviously not from the school shop, it’s way too good!”

Liam smiled at the question. “I made it myself.” Usually more quiet and shy, he seemed very confident when it came to matters such as food. The change in his attitude was something I loved to see.

“Really? You made it? This is too delicious… if only I could have this all the time.” I took another bite, savoring it. As I swallowed, I looked up at him and joked. "Yep, I think the only solution would be for me to just marry you.”

“…” There was a strange silence in the room. I ate some more cake, unconcerned at first, but as the awkward stillness stretched on I paused in my actions, turning towards Liam again with a questioning look.

His face was bright red, and he stared at me with a look of shock and joy.

“Liam?”

He nodded, and blushing more, pulled out his communication device, dialing a number.

“Who are you calling…?”

Alaira’s father, General Gladus showed up on the holographic projection from his device. He stared at Liam, confused for a moment, before barking out with a frown. “Who is this?”

Liam sat up straight, staring at the man with a solemn expression. “General Gladus, my name is William. I am the third born of the Royal family, and a first year student at the academy, and a Level S Connector.”

General Gladus grinned. “I know who you are, son. You’re the wonderful young man who matched with my daughter. I’ve been wanting to talk with you and thank you…”

“Your daughter has asked me to marry her and I have agreed.”

“What?”

“What?”

My father and I asked in unison.

“I was very happy to receive your daughter’s offer of marriage. I will do my very best to support her in all her endeavors.”

“She proposed?”

I silently mouthed an echoing question as my father burst out loudly. “I proposed?”

Liam nodded. “I wanted to let you know so that you could arrange for military leave and be present for our wedding. I know the paperwork can take weeks to months. ”

“…” General Gladus looked stunned. Slowly, his hologram turned towed me. “Alaira, is this true?”

"Yeah, military leave paperwork is notoriously slow..."

He interrupted. "No I mean about the engagement!"

I glanced over at Liam’s excited face.

____________________________

“I don’t believe it’s real.” He whispered, staring down at our hands that were clasped together. “I thought that I was always going to be alone. I thought my fate… my role… ”

I fiddled with the silver band in my hand, trying it on his finger. “Screw fate. We’re getting married now.”

“Yeah.” He grinned, the smile lighting up his face, making the whole room brighter. “Screw fate. I’m your husband!”

____________________________

I shrugged. “What can I say? We’re a destined couple.” I briefly explained about our 100% resonance match.

“… Did you say 100% match?” At my nod, General Gladus opened up his arms. “Welcome to family! When's the wedding?”

After a few more minutes of discussion, Liam hung up, still looking happy.

“Should we notify your parents?”

His face froze. When his gaze finally rose to met mine I shrunk back from the dull look I saw there.

“No reason to.” He reached out, tucking back my hair. “A family without love is just blood related acquaintances. You’re my real family, wife.”

I hugged him again. “That’s right. I’m your family.” I hadn’t really meant to propose… it was just a joke. But the second he called me wife, my heart had felt a sense of recognition. It was happy, but also hurt, a deep remembered pain. A panicked feeling rose up within me, as fear, despair and sadness came in waves, before leaving quickly, overwhelming me without warning or reason. I desperately wanted to remember something, to tear open the fog clouding my brain and peer at what was hidden behind it. But I couldn't.

You must accept your fate. A metallic voice rang in my head, cold, dispassionate, filled with undeniable.

“No.” I whispered, tears filling my eyes even if I wasn’t sure why they were there.

Liam noticed my distress. “Alaira?”

“I'm fine." I think we should go back to practice.” I pulled him to his feet. “We’ll talk more about this later.”

“You’re right, let’s continue working hard so we can save the world like you wanted. But on our next break, we have a wedding to plan!” For the first time, Liam was more excited than me to get to practice. He grabbed my hand and raced forward.

____________________________

Later that night, I went back to my dorm room, still thinking over my last conversation with Liam. He was energetically talking about wedding plans, making lists and drawings with the hologram on his communicator, storing them in special file with my name on it.

When I asked him why he was so excited, he paused, staring down at his hands. “Have you ever felt a desire that was so strong, it seemed to be beyond anything you’ve experienced before?” He glanced up. “I feel this, Alaira. Deep in my soul. I want to be by your side. I want to marry you, but even if you didn’t want that, I’d be your minion or your sidekick. Being by you… helping you… it’s such an integral part of myself, I couldn’t separate from it if I tried.”

“Liam…”

“I think I believe in reincarnation and soul mates.” He smiled. “I’m so happy right now that I think this has to be a hallucination, it can’t be real.”

“I don’t believe it’s real.” I felt the memory of the young man’s whisper in my head again, and pushing it back, I leaned forward to kiss Liam gently.

“It’s real.”

Now alone in my room, I couldn’t help but feel bewildered by the connection with Liam, the emotions and memories that accompanied every moment with him.

“Who am I?” I leaned against the wall and whispered to myself.

“That is the question isn’t it?”

At the unexpected answer I straightened up, falling into a defensive stance. Recognizing the intruder did not make relax, however. If anything it made me more tense.

“Chris. What are you doing here?” I kept my voice calm, trying to hide my inner tension.

“I’m getting tired, Bel.” He sat down on my bed and leaned back, staring up at the ceiling. “I’m just… so tired of all this.”

“What did you call me?” The name resonated with me, much more than “Alaira” ever had.

He ignored me. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You were supposed to give up right away. It promised me…”

The room fell into silence. I stood as still as a statue, barely daring to breathe. I was desperate to hear more, terrified to let him continue speaking. Chris’s voice was different, his tone filled with years of regret. His eyes when they stared at me, seemed to look right through me, as if seeing through my skin to something deeper and more profound.

“Why can’t you just accept your fate, Bel?” He sighed, the sound seeming to drag on too long. “Everything depends on it.”

“What do you…?”

“The lower realms you treasure… the friends you’ve made… even…” He hesitated. “Even his existence depends on everyone having their role and playing their part.”

“I don’t understand what you mean, Chris.”

“MY NAME ISN’T CHRIS!” He yelled, the sound startling in the otherwise silent room. “Just like yours isn’t Alaira. Just like his… it wasn’t supposed to be…”

“Liam?”

”THAT WASN’T SUPPOSED TO BE HIS NAME!” Chris, or whoever he was, stood up, his face red with rage. “He corrupted it! He refused his role, and ended up tricking you to do the same.” He stepped closer. “Why do you always force me to be the one who has to carry the weight of the realms on my shoulders? Why does he get to be the only one who is happy? I don’t want to play these games anymore, Bel.”

“I’m not playing games!” I shouted back, frustrated. “I don’t remember anything!”

“And you won’t. Not until it’s over. But it will be soon. Because I’m going to end it.” He walked towards the door, preparing to leave, only stopping when I grabbed his arm.

“No. You aren’t leaving until you explain what you meant.”

His eyes lit up briefly at our contact, and I pulled my hand away quickly. “You made a bet, Bel, and these are rules you can’t escape. All it takes is one failed mission. One failure before you can finish the task of piecing together your soul.”

“Piecing together…?” His words struck a chord within me, but I shook my head. “I may not understand anything going on, but I’ll tell you this: I won’t fail my mission.”

The light is his eyes dimmed. “You started this. Just remember that, when you regret everything. You. Started. This.”

He left through room, slamming the door behind him. I stood in place, staring blankly, my mind racing.

Realms, real names, missions and bets… I don’t understand any of it.

But I knew one thing, as certainly as if it were imprinted on my soul.

I would not accept my fate.

Even if I couldn’t remember what that fate was.

Even if I had to destroy fate itself to escape it.

[demonictales]

T I L T E D - ZEWU JUN

This is just a small one shot, nothing great. I forgot how hard writing can be. But this in German would be another level of cringe and we don’t do that here. So enjoy this.  Might be lowkey all over the place, it’s been a while since I last wrote something. It's also not proof read, so sorry.

Zewu Jun x Reader | Not requested, small fluff

TW: none

It was no secret in the cultivation world that you and Lan Xichen of the Lan Clan were courting officially. It has been three years since you've admitted that both of you had feelings for one another.

Since the day Zewu Jun had been betrayed by someone he thought was his confidant, someone he thought he judged fairly and knew all of his thoughts to the day he ended his life in the blink of an eye without a second of hesitation and lack of hope was the day you had stepped into his life for once and all.

Before all that happened, the two of you had met several times before during night hunts, conferences or other feasts that happened. It was undeniable that the two of you had a connection and got along well. It showed as you two could talk for hours on end without growing tired of one topic or playing the guqin while he accompanied you by his flute. It was a once in a life time friendship that soon turned into something more serious after Meng Yao had lost the battle.

It was hard for you to reach him as he decided to go into seclusion yet you tried for him to pull him back, to socialise again. It was far from easy. The grieve for a friend that turned into a foe in less than a few hours. Nevertheless, you did not leave his side. You wrote letters daily. Frequently visited Gusu. You brought the thinks he liked, books, music sheets, you made him play along to your guqin. You asked him to show you things, let him teach you. It was only a matter of time that he realized that you were serious about it, even if you did not directly say anything. It were the small actions you went through for him. It was the small light of hope you brought him that sparked not just his interest in you more but also made him get over his disappointment and anger. Which to be frank, he never shown to anyone. He was reserved, did not let it spark to much to the surface but deep down, he was hiding it.

Of course, you once in a while feared that you'd be to annoying, doing to much but you could never imagine the amount of pain that he must've felt, the betrayal of a close friend and yet here you were trying your best to cheer him up, to give him back at least a little hope. Luckily for you, you never had to experience something like this so you wondered how he must've felt. You could only guess.

With bright features and your usual bordeux colored attire that was just one of the two colors of the Baling Ouyang Clan, you walked through the backhills of Cloud Recesses, waiting for him to find you after all he was a busy man, courting or not.. With a fond smile of the latest memory you had made with Zewu Jun you kept thinking back to that night.

Both of you had been caught in the rain as you walked through the small town near your home. Zewu Jun had let you know that he was passing by and would like to meet you, never missing a chance for interaction. It was only then when the host of the restaurant said that he had to close now that both of you realized how late it had gotten which now got you stuck in the rain as both of you, drenched by the cold drops falling from above soaked your clothing and you found shelter underneath a nearby entrance of a house. The rainfall was rather heavy for spring but that did not mean anything.

It was the silence between the both of you, the rain that hit the streets and stands around you unevenly, the echo in the streets, the cool wind that made you shiver slightly in the dark and the soft smile on his lips which brought a light blush to your cheeks.

" It seems we have lost track of time again. I apologize hereby, Ouyang Y/N. " He spoke quietly but made it seem like he was part of the surrounding quietness. A small laughter was heard. It had escaped your lips. " There is nothing for you to apologize for after all it was me that did not stop talking. Perhaps I must simply learn to not exaggerate my words in excitement when I see a good point to question my counterpart." You indeed always found something to argue about, or to put it in a different light, always making sure each angle of something was changed and another insight that was unbeknownst to the other was seen. It was a bad habit, but one that had brought the two of you closer over the years.

It was only then that you noticed his head band had been slightly lose and tilted. You were not giving it much of a thought as you gently adjusted it, forgetting the Lan Clan rules about their etiquette for just this moment. Yet when your eyes met his, reality did break in and you backed up, eyes wide as you realized your mistake. You were courting, yes, but you were not yet married and you did respect the rules they had set.

" Zewu Jun.. - I.." You stuttered quite still shook from your own actions. What have you been thinking being this irresponsible as to touch his headband. A simple excuse would be to blame the liquor but you did not touch any the whole night. In fact, all you did drink was tea. " I did not mean too.." You picked up your words again, scanning his face for any reaction. Much to your surprise his smile had grown a bit bigger just to pull you in. A strong arm placed around your waist, feeling the warmth he radiated through the soaked clothes of yours which made you relax. It wasn't the first time he had pulled you in like this and you had to lie if you did not admit you liked it. It made you feel safe.

" Do not worry. My significant other is allowed to touch it. Seeing as we are getting married soon, I shall make an exception." He spoke calmly yet the warm smile he had worn since day break had never once left his features for the time being. Leaning in he pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head before the both of you took the chance to quickly get to your home as the rain had stopped.

It was moments like these that made you realize Xichen truly was the only one for you. The only one you ever wanted. The one you'd be with until death do you apart. You'd soon be part of the Lan Clan with the man you loved by your side.

What else could you possibly ask for. He was your friend, your confidant and your soulmate and thus he had your heart in bis hands. He took care of it with all his might and you trusted him fully with it.

[btsandvmin]

How much do we really know?

I really don't understand how any BTS shippers can be confident enough in their ships to turn into “supporters/believers” that believe their ship is real 100%. For any ship. Like even deep diving into some theories or getting literally 100+ reasons from various believers own mouths for why some ships have to be real, nothing has been big enough to count as proof in my opinion. (Of course this includes Vmin.)

Like... They all have questionable moments. Some more than others, sure. But proof of more than very strong and unusually intimate friendships? No.

You could argue some things seem “gay” or has possible LGBTQ+ connections. Like GCF having a LGBT+ song, or 4 o'clock including a reference to a gay movie, or Vmin's literal gay drama whatever that was. But most of it is just fans zooming in on various things and adding their own meaning to it. Like it has to mean something becaues it is connected to your ship. (But only for your ship.) Sometimes, a lot of times, it’s not even directly connected to the ship... It’s just assumed to be connected to them. It’s a guess or a theory, not a fact.

I get questions from Vminies not knowing things about Vmin all the time, and I myself know I’ll never be able to remember or even see everything that is out there with Vmin. And that’s just from the content we are able to consume to begin with. Beyond that is a lot of guessing and assumption based on the fraction of moments we get. But if some Vminies might not even know where the soulmate label comes from, or that 4 o’clock was written with Jimin in mind or that Vmin seem to casually sleep together in private (if we take Tae’s words for it in the Billboard vlive) it’s clear that something I might see as obvious and common knowledge isn’t. Even further it’s clear that other shippers will know even less about Vmin. 

And how can you dismiss something you don’t even know about?

We all focus on, remember or look for/get exposed to our biases or favorite ships the most. Even if we consume the original content we will likely zoom in and see things for our own ship simply because we look for it. And there is nothing wrong with that, it’s natural. But we need to realize it means we will miss things when it comes to other ships, and need to be aware that we know more and end up in echo chambers of both facts and interpretations for our own ships.

It’s so blatantly obvious to me that many non-vminies have no clue about even some of the biggest moments between Vmin. And again, it’s nothing really odd or bad about that... Until you start to act superior even when you lack a lot of knowledge. So much misinformation is spread this way too...

That’s why even though I personally think I know more about other ships than perhaps the regular person, I still won’t preach or explain too much about other ships. Because just as I know others don’t seem to know or notice a lot about Vmin, I know I work the same in regards to other ships. I can’t possibly even remember everything when it comes to Vmin, so how can I with all other ships too?

If I get questions about tae/kook or ji/kook or any dynamic in BTS I might be able to answer it... But I might also lack the full context or might not even have noticed some things to begin with. Coming to me with questions about other ships will give you a very different view than if you ask a shipper focused on that ship directly. I try to be unbiased, but I can’t. I try to be informed but I can’t remember or notice everything. So even if I feel I know a lot, I might never know enough to get the full context of any situation regarding BTS. 

Of course trying to remember to watch unbiased content is very important and helps to keep a better balance. Or as in my case where I actively looked up other ship theories and felt “I know enough to see there are weird things and I can’t dismiss everything since we don’t know the truth of what it might mean”. Just as I feel a lot of things about Vmin shouldn’t be dismissed. Many other shippers also came to me and talked long and detailed about why their ship is real and my isn’t. Many times I lacked knowledge about specific situations about other ships, but so did they about Vmin. I don’t think you can dismiss something if you don’t even know about it to begin with, and there is a big gap of knowledge between the shipping communities.

I mean, the way hyung x maknae line ships have so many great moments and you barely see them outside of the actual content. At this point all ships in BTS are big and get attention, but they don’t seem to register the same way in people’s minds, with the focus  always being on the three youngest together.

This is the thing about worrying about “rival ships” too... They only matter if there is a moment between the ones you already see as “competition”. Does anyone worry or cry about Vmin or Ji/kook when Ji/hope or Hope/kook get very intimate and sweet moments? No, because they don’t seem to register at all. 

I wasn’t even able to find a gif of this ji/hope moment from Run recently... (And I can’t add twitter videos from desktop)

Yoon/min holding hands and joking about breaking up.

Meanwhile if Tae/kook have fun together or if Ji/kook does something cute all hell breaks lose. We have been tainted by the narratives from shippers. The more we see and hear about other ships the bigger “impact” they will have on us.

If moments like this between other members doesn’t make me feel insecure about Vmin, then why would any similar moment from Ji/kook or Tae/kook? People need to stop hyper focusing on both skinship and “rival ship” moments in general and stop adding importance to them, especially when they don’t even do it equally with all ships.

It’s not that one is good:

One is neutral:

And one is bad:

They all happen and exist and we need to realize that’s how it always has been and likely always will be. Any interpretations of these moments shouldn’t change how you view them when nothing is even confirmed. They all happen so we should all accept that and be happy the members have close and intimate relationships with each other.

I really don’t think people understand my stance on all of this. I literally don’t mind if another ship turns out to be real (even if any ship being real is probably not that likely), because I trust in Vmin’s relationship after having watched it for 5 years. But since nothing is confirmed I still remain of the opinion that Vmin’s relationship and behavior is weirder than other ships IN MY VIEW, based on MY INTERPRETATIONS. But I am totally ok with being proven wrong, because it doesn’t matter what kind of relationship Vmin have as long as I can trust that the love they express for each other is real. Thus I also don’t have to downplay moments between other ships. They are there and that’s nice.

We lack a lot of information for many reasons even though we do get to see a lot. But even knowing all the things we know, I still don’t think it’s enough for any ship moments to count as “proof”. For example with Vmin, they were denied to sing a song because it was essentially “ too gay” and Taehyung complained about it, but that doesn't mean they have to be a couple and is forced apart by Big Hit.

We put weight into things because we have our biases and guesses and we find things because we look for them. Here are just some things that fans of various communities says have to mean something but to me really doesn't have to mean anything even if proven:

Physical intimacy Emotional intimacy Jealousy Screen time Fanservice “Sexual tension” Heart eyes or any looks in general Joking about being a couple Showering together Sleeping together Being alone together Living together Writing songs about each other Secret signs Hidden messages to fans Hiding in rooms

And so on...

But even If you do want to count these things to mean something, at least acknowledge how many of those things other ships have too. Vmin literally have several of these confirmed as well. Many of these moments either have happened or gets speculated to happen between many ships. You might find your ship isn’t as uniqe as you feel it is if you actually start diving deeper. If you did and it makes you doubt your own ships superiority, that’s good. Being sure won’t lead to any good for anyone.

Also if you wanna go there.... If other shipper say these have to mean something they are either ignoring Vmin or more likely doesn’t know or say it doesn’t mean the same if they do it.

Fine if hand holding and cuddling doesn’t make you wonder about Vmin, that’s totally legit. In fact you don’t have to wonder about Vmin unless you want to. But using excuses for why something doesn’t mean something you don’t want it to mean or downplaying moments or automatically calling them platonic and “not the same” doesn’t mean you can’t be wrong about those assumptions. Especially when you might not know the full context of it. Again, it should go both ways and include moments from all relationships.

I am legit curious how ji/kookers and tae/kookers are able to be so confident about their ship being real with Tae doing the things he does towards Jimin.... Like... They mean to tell me Tae and Jimin being soulmates, Tae wanting to sing a romantic Christmas song with Jimin, Tae writing 4 o'clock, Tae having Sweet night and telling us it's a personal song while he keeps calling Jimin his only best friend doesn't even have a possibility to mean something non platonic? 😗

Soulmates + Friends lyrics + "how could I know one day I would wake up feeling more" + "are you my best friend?" + "sweet night is a personal song" + "Of course Jimin is my only friend" + 4 o'clock/dumpling fight + the not allowed Christmas song + "Jimin-ah I like you the most" + "I told him to come sleep next to me as I was too lazy to go to him" + “we told our candid stories as honestly as possible” + “Oppa, why are you still awake? I’m dreaming of Jiminie” = Vmin is probably the best known guess to what relationship Tae might be talking about in Sweet Night.

Is it confirmed though? Can I call it proof? NO! Because while it fits in theory, we don’t know and we don’t have all the information to know. But I can make a damn good case for it and that’s the whole point. I can do that because I look for material, see things and add them together with a narrative. Just as other shippers do with their ships. In the end it’s all just narratives though, not proof.

Getting all these asks recently just confirms that the people who worry, or who says other ships are real, haven’t read even a fraction of my posts or they just don’t understand them. Or let alone noticed major moments between all BTS members that should show that their belief is not as “obvious” as they might think.

I am tired of insecurities when it shouldn’t even matter. If any ship in BTS is real, let’s support them and be happy. It doesn’t change the dynamics and relationships between the other members if some of them happen to be a couple. What we see is still there. The “worst” that can happen is that our ideas and theories prove to be wrong. 

But let’s at least try to be aware of how little we see and know, and especially about ships that aren’t our own. I am writing about Vmin because there is a lot to see, but me focusing on Vmin also gives me a knowledge about them I can’t compare with other ships. Which is why I won’t sit and write essays about other ships, and which is why Vminies coming to me for information about other ships is going to lack the depth I can provide for Vmin. All shippers are biased and all shippers lack information.

If you want to ship do it, if you want to speculate go right ahead. But be aware that there is a big difference between facts and knowledge and narratives and speculation.

I hope you found this an interesting read. And if you are considering sending me asks worried about Vmin because of interactions between other members or you want to send “statments” or explenations about other ships being real, just know you are barking up the wrong tree.

[danhoemei]

By unpopular demand of 1 (one) whole person @wkxs​, who asked someone to write this scene of zzs playing a make-up artist for wkx’s evil eyeshadow™️, I went and made this, so aye have it *booing noises*

[also on ao3, cw mature]

--------

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

A clearly exasperated voice broke the silence of the otherwise quiet room. The sound was soon followed by a rustling of the robes when the only other person in the room turned around to glance at its source.

Zhou Zishu stood in the middle of the room with his arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed. Morning sun, which peeked through a window nearby, lit the bottom of his robes and an area around him, adding an almost ethereal and imposing tinge to his look.

He stood there on purpose.

“I am not going to wait an hour or so until you deem your eyeshadow perfect.”

Wen Kexing sat on the edge of the bed, half turned from the nightstand and a mirror which now reflected the side of his head. His arms were still up, hovering near his face and revealing a palette full of different shades of red held in one hand, and a brush in the other.

They stared at each other without moving for a moment before the eye contact got broken by Wen Kexing shamelessly running his eyes across Zhou Zishu’s whole body. He turned around completely, relaxing his body from sitting upright to leaning askew on one arm which he put casually on the nightstand, still holding the half-closed palette in it.

“Well I am not going out without it,” he span the brush between the fingers of his free hand, leaving a subtle arch of red powder in the air.

“We’re just going shopping.”

“Where people are gonna see us,” the brush stopped abruptly, pointed at Zhou Zishu as if to make the point stronger.

Zhou Zishu stood still like a statue, only his head turned sightly to the side and his eyebrows moved up.

“We have a reputation to uphold,” Wen Kexing explained, answering to the unimpressed questioning gesture of his partner.

“What reputation,” the corner of Zhou Zishu’s lips twitched.

The nightstand creaked as Wen Kexing leaned more onto it and put his arm up to support his chin on the hand.

“Of being sexy,” he winked. The effect was slightly damaged by the palette still stubbornly - or purposefully - held in his hand, a wide messy box hanging next to his face.

Of all the reactions Zhou Zishu could have given, the one he did not expect himself to fall into was to burst out laughing. He threw his head back and let his shoulders shake to the rhythm of his laughter. Despite having closed his eyes, he still saw the ridiculous image of the half-dressed man winking with his half-painted eye, who looked more like a disheveled maiden who had just woken up and tried to hastily correct her make up rather than a flirtatious philanthropist.

His reaction must have been a surprise not only to himself but also to the other man, because as soon as he calmed down enough to look back at the source of his mirth, he was met with wide, slightly shining eyes, and an expression which he could describe as a mixture of stunned and transfixed.

The man seemed to finally start breathing again. He sat up straighter and licked his lips.

“Ah-Xu, you are so-”

“Ok.”

Wen Kexing blinked and halted in his movement again.

Before he reacted in any way, Zhou Zishu walked towards him and without any prelude pushed him back onto the bed. Wen Kexing fell back without any resistance, but Zhou Zishu could still feel a subtle twitch of the body beneath him as the man got trapped by the weight of a fully grown person straddling him. Wen Kexing obediently let the palette and brush be taken out of his hands.

Zhou Zishu hung just above Wen Kexing, satisfied with the quickness and the lack of fighting.

“I’m gonna do it quick and then we’re going. And no complains for how it’ll look.”

Wen Kexing stared up quietly with a content smile and twinkling eyes.

“Sure.”

Zhou Zishu’s eyes narrowed as the thought of this whole situation going exactly as the bastard planned crossed his mind. However, he quickly put the thought aside and moved his attention to the palette to choose the first shade.

The brush glided across the pale skin, leaving a trail of deep red which added a dangerous glint to the dark eyes below, staring intensely into his own without a break. Zhou Zishu could admit to himself that he did like when Wen Kexing had this sharp smudge of color on, which complemented his eyes and made others turn their heads to look at the man with either admiration or fear. He could admit it after all this time, but only to himself.

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a feeling of a soft caress on his lips, which instantly brought him back to reality. He blinked a few times, trying to bring his attention back to the smiling eyes directly below his own, so close that it was almost hard to focus on them.

“You were smiling. I couldn’t resist.”

“I was not,” Zhou Zishu countered as if on reflex. Only now did he notice that a set of hands was put on his hips at some point and started rubbing small circles on them.

“Sure, whatever you say,” Wen Kexing tilted his head slightly back, his smile growing wider.

A loud clank echoed throughout the room as Zhou Zishu closed the palette in one quick move and energetically leaned back.

“Well, I’m finished, let’s go-”

He chocked on the last word as the world suddenly span around and darkened. A dark veil of hair soundlessly fell around him, blocking the light and cutting off his surroundings. All that was left was a pale face tinged with red, floating right in front of his eyes, connected to a slender neck which grew out of a strong chest peeking out of a loosely tied, slightly open robe. Zhou Zishu swallowed.

A strand of hair must have tingled his cheek, because of how itchy it felt.

A chuckle came from above, luring his eyes to dart up again.

“Like what you see?” the man’s voice dripped with satisfaction.

Before Zhou Zishu could answer, he heard a click of the palette being opened, and he realised that it got taken out of his hand at some point.

“Your turn now.”

At last, completely woken up from his daze, Zhou Zishu plastered an open hand on Wen Kexing’s face and pushed it back.

“Hell no.”

A cheerful, slightly muffled laughter resounded throughout the room, soon followed by the sounds of tossing and fighting.

The clash did not last as long as it often could, after all their encounters sometimes could extend to the whole day of running around and breaking unfortunate things which stood on the way. This time, however, it was one of the instances which gravitated towards a playful banter and lingering touches, those that gradually extended in time and frequency until both men rolled onto the bed again, kissing and grabbing at each other.

The temperature in the room seemed to have risen despite the coldness of the morning seeping through an open window.

Wen Kexing, who landed on top of Zhou Zishu and pinned him down with his weight, finally released his lips. He leaned back just a bit, still leaving their faces so close that their noses rubbed together.

“Say,” he breathed out. “What if we went tomorrow.”

Zhou Zishu’s dazed, half-lidded eyes were glued to Wen Kexing’s, his face hot and body warm. Even though he was asked a question, he was not given time to answer. He felt a shiver run across his skin after Wen Kexing dove down and left a wet kiss on his neck. Zhou Zishu opened his mouth.

A sudden knock rendered both man still and speechless.

“Shifu, shishu, I’m ready!” Zhang Chengling’s voice broke through the door and rang through the silence like a bell.

As sudden as the knock, Zhou Zishu threw Wen Kexing off and swiftly jumped off the bed. He fixed his clothes and put on his outer robe, tying it hard and smoothing out any wrinkles, all the while focusing on his breathing and the flow of his qi.

“Be ready in ten minutes or we’re leaving without you,” he threw over his shoulder, voice calm and collected, only glancing at the man who was still lying on the bed and looking with dark eyes in the direction of the door.

Zhou Zishu left the room, quickly closing the door behind him and blocking the sight of the insides from Zhang Chengling. It was not needed though, as the boy already stood several steps away. One could say that he was used to backing up as soon as he reported his readiness, either to make way for the men, or to keep away from the ever-so-loud room filled with unimaginable feats.

Zhou Zishu passed him by and stopped only after walking for a moment. Enjoying the morning chill on his skin, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath of refreshing air in. Zhang Chengling was just behind him, and as he stood by his teacher, he couldn’t help but keep glancing at him.

“Spit it,” Zhou Zishu finally couldn’t bear the fidgeting next to him.

“Shifu, you’re awfully red, are you sick? Should we postpone the trip after all?”

The last word transformed into a quiet yelp as the boy’s head got gently hit on the back, and he looked up with pitiful eyes at the back of Zhou Zishu’s turned head.

“Shut up, brat.”

[ezrasarm]

More Than Friends

Pairing: Frankie Morales x demisexual!reader

Word count: 1.9K

Warnings: Some angst, some fluff, discussions of sexuality

A/n: This isn’t my usual spiel and it wound up getting a whole lot angstier than intended but this fic means a lot to me and I would really appreciate it if you took the time to read it and let me know what you think because I am nErVoUs about posting it and in need of validation 😬😂

Just a wee disclaimer: Demisexuality is a pretty broad term and the way people experience it is all across the board so I’d like you to keep in mind that this draws heavily from my own experience with identifying this way (which I am very new to). If you would like to learn more about demisexuality there are some wonderful resources here at demisexuality.org and my inbox is always open if you’re curious.

[ masterlist ]

It was a complicated thing to explain to people who didn’t understand- who didn’t want to understand. “That’s how it is for everyone.” “You just haven’t found the right person yet.” “I can change that”. You’d gotten tired of being told the experience that was very much real to you didn’t exist, that your identity didn’t exist, of being labelled a prude or being told you were just nervous. Feeling that desire and choosing not to act was one thing but it was another thing entirely not being able to.

When you found yourself in a position where you had to explain yourself to him, you needed him of all people to understand that the way you felt had absolutely nothing to do with him. You had tried. You thought there was a chance you might get there with him but the longer you waited for that connection to form, for that feeling to come, the more you realized you were wasting both of your time.

You were terrified as you walked into the cafe to tell him that just like all the other people you had tried to broach this topic with before he wouldn’t believe you. He wouldn’t get it. He’d shrug it off and tell you that you didn’t know what you were talking about. That he’d get offended and take your lack of attraction to him personally. That he’d overreact. That he’d blame you for stringing him along. But you had to rip the bandaid off. He’s a reasonable person right? He won’t do that. You were just psyching yourself out. It would be fine.

Or not.

You were distraught by the time you were supposed to meet the boys at the bar that night. You hadn’t meant to hurt him. Why did he have to look at you that way? Why did he have to say it like that? “Right, I thought as much.” He had frowned down at his coffee. What was that even supposed to mean? Why couldn’t he have taken your word for it? Why couldn’t you have faked it till you made it? Why couldn’t you feel something? You questioned yourself as you got in the door, shuffling around in your purse for your phone before dialling Frankies number. You couldn’t do this tonight, you couldn’t run around pretending everything was fine when you had been lonely for so goddamn long and this fell through too.

You got his voice mail and hoped it wasn’t because he was already on the road. Of all the times for him to decide to be early, you hoped it wasn’t this one. “Hey, Frankie, it’s me. I hope you’re not already on your way here, I just- I’m not feeling up for tonight. I think I might be coming down with something and don’t want to get everyone sick.” You say when you get his voice mail, sniffing back your onslaught of tears before concluding the call with a “Anyway say hi to everyone for me and I’ll see you later.” before hanging up, your voice finally breaks into a sob when you drop your phone onto the couch and collapse into the cushions next to it with an aggravated and teary-eyed sigh.

As though by some cruel joke the universe had decided to play on you today it's hardly five minutes later when a knock sounds at your door and you just about have to suppress an exasperated laugh as you wipe the tears from your eyes with your shirt sleeve and go to get it.

“Hey, you ready to-” Frankie is cut off when his phone buzzes in his pocket and his brows furrow for a brief second when he goes to check it. “Oop, hang on I got a message.” He declares, “Hey look, it’s from you!” He says, throwing a wiggle of his eyebrows in your direction as you fold your arms in front of you and lean against the doorframe waiting for the penny to drop. It takes a second before you watch the grin slowly fall from his face and he finally takes in the puffiness around your eyes and the stray tear which had managed to escape your hurried attempts at wiping them away.

“You don’t look sick.” He notes solemnly after a brief pause and your gaze drops to your feet at the shame of being caught in a lie. Great, now he was looking at you all hurt too.

“That’s ‘cause I’m not.” You sniffle back, finding it even harder to withhold your emotions now that he’s standing right in front of you.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” He asked, trying to usher you inside despite the resistance you give him.

“Nothing really. You should go to the party. I’ll be fine.” You insist but he’s already managed to wiggle you both through the door and drag you back into the living room.

“And leave you here on your own? Not a chance!” He insists as he plops you down on the couch motioning for you to stay put with a warning hand gesture and glare as he dials into his phone. “Hey Pope, somethings come up, we won’t be able to make it tonight but be sure to give Will a punch in the arm from me and a ‘Happy birthday’ from (y/n) and we promise we’ll make up for it next week,” There’s a momentary pause before Frankie nods. “Yup, will do, Hermano. Bye,” he says as he hangs up shoving the phone back in his pocket before taking a seat next to you.

“Frankie, You shouldn’t have done that. I already told you I’m fine.” You sigh.

“And I already told you that I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s going on.” He replies stubbornly, he’s clearly been hanging out with Santiago too much lately.

“You didn’t, but it’s good to know what I’m in for.” You huff out through a laugh that comes off a lot more bitter than you had hoped.

“I can’t help you unless you tell me what’s wrong, Hermosa,” He says, brushing his thumb up and down across the knuckles you hadn’t even realized he’d taken in his hand until now.

“This isn’t something you can fix Frankie! That’s exactly the problem!” You snap, tears threatening your waterline again.

“What is? What’s the problem?” He exclaims and you realize the situation you’ve placed yourself in for the second time today.

“I broke things off with Andrew today.” You say not expecting him to look quite as shocked as he did.

“Did something happen?” He asked. He could understand you being upset over a breakup but he had never seen you quite like this before.

“No, nothing happened he just- I couldn’t-” You cut yourself off trying to figure out how you can phrase this for it to make sense.

“I really liked him just not in the way he wanted me to.” You say, your gaze falling to where Frankie’s thumb had stopped rubbing circles on your knuckle as he tried to figure out what it was you were saying. “He was dropping some pretty heavy signs that he wanted to…” You sigh trying to decide if you really wanted to get into this with him. “I can’t feel sexually attracted to anyone unless I have a strong emotional connection with them first.” You say probably a bit too abruptly. With the way he’s looking at you now, this clearly wasn’t the direction he had expected this conversation to take and you’re already wondering if you’ve made a mistake by telling him. “And just because I have an emotional connection with them doesn’t necessarily mean I’ll ever get to that point with them.” There’s a beat before he responds and you’ve already braced yourself for the worst when instead-

“And you didn’t have that with him?” He asks. You feel your heart, which you hadn’t realized had been hammering in your chest, settle slightly. He was so understanding that for a second you thought he didn’t understand.

“I wanted to.” You say. “I thought maybe if I got to know him better it might develop- that I might be able to like him that way-” You shake your head hesitantly. “But it didn’t- I couldn’t.” You whispered, your head hung low in disappointment. “He didn’t take it very well.” You tried to say but you could already feel your throat tightening at the thought of the look on his face and the words echoing through your head. “I didn’t want to hurt him I just-“ More tears spilled down your cheeks and Frankie was quick to pull you into his chest, his fingers carding through your hair as you buried your face in his neck. “I didn’t want to be alone anymore and I thought-” A choked sob escapes you and Frankies grip on your waist grows just a little tighter.

“We don’t get to choose who we are and aren’t attracted to.” He whispers into the crown of your head, hating the look of shame he had seen on your face only moments ago. Hating the way you blamed yourself for something you clearly had no control over, hating that he didn’t know what to say. “I’m so sorry he didn’t understand.” He murmured with his lips still pressed to your hair line, his free hand smoothing up and down your arm gently, waiting for your breathing to even out.

There’s a long pause before he speaks again. He knows now probably isn’t the best time to ask this question but it won’t stop nagging at him and he doesn’t know when else he would ever have the courage to. “What about me?” He swallows heavily, after a while, not exactly sure what kind of answer he’s expecting. “Have you ever thought of me that way?” He pries and for a second you’re shocked that his mind even went there. Did he want you to think of him that way? Did he ever think of you that way?

You take a moment to mull over the question, your curiosity for where he was going with it managing to outweigh your fear of giving him an answer when your mind wanders back to the way your heart used to hammer in your chest when he walked into a room and how he was the only one who ever came to mind when you so much as considered the possibility of getting intimate with someone. “I’ve thought about you that way before, yeah.” You admit, lifting your head from his shoulder to look him in the eye.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” He asks, eyes softening as he wonders how many awful dates he could have saved you from if he had just known a little sooner that you thought of him as anything more than a friend.

“Because you were married when I realized it and by the time you weren’t I’d come to terms with it and I didn’t want to screw anything up between us.” You explain truthfully. The entire situation had been so complicated when it started that you wrote off the idea before you could even consider it fully and now he was asking you all these questions and you felt like a fool for not having seen it sooner.

“Do you still?...think of me that way?”

“Yeah. I do.”

“Would you want to try giving me a chance?” He asks, wearily. “We can take it as slow as you want, there’s no pressure-”

“I’d like that.”

[ masterlist ]

Permanent Taglist: @agirllovespancakes​ @chaoticspaceidiot​ @engineeredfiction​ @pedropascalito​ @wickedfrsgrl​ @hillarymurray4​ @din-damn-djarin​ @yespolkadotkitty​ @wille-zarr​ @oloreaa​ @this-cat-is-dea​ @marydjarin​ @roxypeanut​ @opheliaelysia​ @cryptkeepersoul​ @prxtty-boah @aliciaxglasgow @elena-myth​ @theocatkov​ @bioticgoddess​ @edencherries​ @kandomeresbitch @mrsparknuts​ @hayley-the-comet​ @rachelxwayne​ @thirstworldproblemss​

Pedro Boys Taglist: @theravenreads​ @mrschiltoncat​ @seasonschange-butpeopledont​ @chaotic-noceur​ @deafspaceperson

Frankie “Catfish” Morales Taglist: @rebelhan​ @thepjofanqueen​

+ @reluctantlyresponsibleadult

[foilfreak]

Beauty and Her Beast: Chapter 4

Warning: This fic is rated NSFW and contains graphic depictions of things some people may find disturbing or alarming, including, but not limited to: violence, gore, unhealthy family relationships, Oedipus complexes, gratuitous amount of pornographic literature, ableist language, physical, mental, and emotional abuse, etc. If you are someone who does not enjoy fiction with these elements in them, then I suggest you refrain from reading this, because this fic will have all that, and probably a lot more. So, this is your first and final warning to turn around and go somewhere else if stuff like this just isn't your vibe, because from this point forward, your emotional wellbeing is in your own hands, and I will not be accepting blame if you disregarded my warnings and ended up reading something you didn't like. Idk why I feel compelled to write one of these despite this being Resident Evil fanfic, but I figured I'd cover my ass just in case.

(Link to ao3 version in comments below)

Upon returning to the surface again, Mother Miranda seems confused, but mostly relieved, that Salvatore did not show interest in lingering in the village any longer than necessary. Though Salvatore did end up needing to stay for one last brief conversation, in which he and Mother Miranda discussed various parts of Nadine’s file, as well as finalized the date and approximate time in which Salvatore could expect the villagers to arrive at the reservoir gate with his gift in tow.

2 days from now, was the final agreement, as it would ensure that Salvatore would be the first of the Lords to receive his gift, making up for the fact that he was the last of them to pick. It also permitted him the luxury of some spare time to prepare a new permanent living environment of some kind for his gift. Whatever the hell that was supposed to mean.

Regardless, Once their conversation finally concluded, Salvatore bid his beloved Mother a quick, but appropriately appreciative thank you and goodbye, before closing the large wooden door to the meeting room and trudging back out into the cold, harsh winter snow. Despite a lack of improvement in the weather since Salvatore’s initial journey into the village, the mutant man maintained a solid pace through the snowy paths, seemingly uninhibited by the forceful winds attempting to throw him from his course.

With little time remaining, Salvatore wanted to return to his reservoir as quickly as possible to begin making preparations; though, what exactly it was he was supposed to do in order to prepare for a tiny, beautiful, and apparently violent cadou-mutant woman to begin living in his reservoir with him, once again, Salvatore still had no idea.

Grimacing in frustration, the hooded man wracked his brain for something to do, some way for him to make a good “first” impression with his new gift when she finally arrives. Something that would catch her fancy and hopefully convince her that, despite his terrifying appearance, he wouldn’t harm her and merely wanted to be friends.

Well… technically speaking Salvatore wanted a great deal more than just friendship from the young woman, however given how low his chances are of ever achieving the former, the mutant man decided that he’d happily squash his vile and disgusting desires down deep within himself if it meant he’d gain at least something similar to a friendship with Nadine.

He’d been doing the same with Mother for all these years, so it wasn’t like it was going to be difficult… hopefully.

Upon returning to his reservoir finally, Salvatore retreated from the harsh weather, deciding that he’d likely have a much easier time cleaning if he waited the snowstorm out and got started in the morning, instead. Once the skies had cleared and the sun had just begun to peak over the mountaintop horizon however, Salvatore immediately set to work cleaning up the areas surrounding the reservoir.

It wasn’t until after several hours of diligent gathering and disposing of the numerous unsightly piles of rotting wood and garbage lying around, that the unusually bright and hopeful atmosphere surrounding the reservoir was rudely disrupted by a surprise visitor Salvatore would have never seen coming in a million years.

“HEY, FISHFACE, WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU? I gotta talk to you about something, so hurry up and crawl out of your sewer system so we can get this over with, already” Karl’s rough and booming voice echoed out from somewhere within the reservoir.

Salvatore flinches in fearful surprise at the demanding voice, wondering what on earth could possibly have brought Karl, the notorious recluse of the family who never left his factory unless bribed or threatened, all the way out here to the reservoir. And to speak to HIM, on top of all that too.

Despite not feeling like subjecting himself to Karl’s recent tendency toward physical abuse disguised as “brotherly affection”, Salvatore sighs and swims his way toward his younger brother’s voice anyways, knowing that ignoring Karl would only prompt the younger man to actually enter the reservoir in search of him, which was the absolute last thing Salvatore needed right now.

“Mornin’, brother! It’s about fuckin’ time you answered the door. You were taking so long I was beginning to wonder if you’d finally decided to run away and live out the rest of your life as an actual fish, like I suggested to you at the last “family” meeting” Karl says bluntly, clad his characteristic attire of green sunglasses, a brown hat atop his head, a long tan trench coat covering his day clothes, various items strung around his neck, and large titanium hammer.

“H-hello, Karl... W-why is it th-that you’re h-here for?” Salvatore asks slowly, peering at the younger, but taller man from behind the only partially opened gate.

“Hey, hey, come on now, Sal, what’s with the cold welcome? Am I not allowed to visit my favorite older brother without a specific rhyme or reason. I think you’ll be surprised to know that I was actually already in the area, and wanted to stop by and see if you were in the mood for a chat. You know, like old times?” Karl says defensively, placing both his hands up as Salvatore narrows his eyes at the younger man.

Salvatore was a lot of things, but stupid most certainly wasn’t one of them, regardless of what other people thought. While it might be true that, when Karl was first introduced to the family as a child following his successful cadou mutation, they had something of a positive older-younger brother relationship that lasted a good many years into Karl’s adulthood, that relationship has been growing progressively shakier and unstable over the past few years, at least it has during the times Karl has acted like Salvatore wasn’t the only one to reach out and attempt to connect with the emotionally volatile, but secretly terrified young boy, when he first arrived.

Deep down, Salvatore still had something of a soft spot for Karl, a soft spot that he occasionally allowed himself to indulge in whenever Karl wasn’t acting like a royal asshole, but those moments of peace and solidarity between oldest and youngest brother had been few and far in between recently. Not to mention that Salvatore would be lying if he said he wasn’t growing increasingly more suspicious and distrustful of Karl and whatever secrets the younger man was hiding in that factory of his. He hadn’t the slightest idea what he could be up to, but something told Salvatore that Karl had more reason to be here than just pure coincidence.

“P-perhaps… what i-is it that you w-want to t-talk about?” Salvatore replies curtly, not wanting to just go along with whatever Karl wanted, but for some reason still willing to give the younger man a chance to prove himself.

Taking a brief moment to look over both his shoulders, Karl places the heavy end of his hammer on the ground and leans inward toward Salvatore, lowering his voice as he whispers, “You see your gift from Mother yet?”

This question took Salvatore by surprise, not expecting the gifts Mother Miranda had given them to be the reason why Karl was here.

“I… I h-have… why?” The disfigured man asks curiously, pushing the gate open a little further so that Karl, despite Salvatore’s earlier reservations toward the younger man, could squeeze his way inside.

Upon entering through the gate, Karl immediately takes 2 cigars out of his back pocket and lights the first one. “Curiosity mostly… but also cuz I think there’s more to this whole “gift” thing than Miranda wants us to believe,” the bespeckled man says, blowing a lungful of smoke out his nose as he offers Salvatore the second cigar. “You still smoke, old man?”

“I-I… I r-really shouldn’t” Salvatore says, turning his back toward Karl’s outstretched hand, even as the wonderfully woody scent fills his nose and his mouth begins to water.

“Oooooh, but something tells me you want to” Karl teases, sauntering over to the older man so that he could wave the fresh cigar in Salvatore’s face, chuckling in amusement when the fish mutant’s gaze locked onto and followed the unlit stick like a dog would a slab of meat.

“B-but it… M-Mother has s-said… m-many times… th-that she d-doesn’t like… doesn’t like when we s-smoke… because… uh, b-because...” Salvatore trails off, trying to remain strong for Mother Miranda, even as his self-control slowly continues to crack.

“Come on, lighten up a little bit, old man. It’s just one cigar. You smoked a pack of these things a day, like they were the only things keeping you going, both throughout my whole adolescence and, if what Duke says is to be trusted which we both know it is, well after I left for my factory, too. When the hell did you start being such a stick in the mud? No wonder I stopped hanging out with you, you’re like a fuckin’ parrot that repeats everything than goddamn woman says, it’s like I can’t escape her no matter where I fuckin’ go” Karl groans in a slightly childish tone of voice as he trudges forward to sit on one of the docks overlooking the calm water below.

Salvatore slowly moves to join him as he says, “S-she’s right th-though… it r-really isn’t good… f-for you… I smoked e-everyday for m-many years... an-and now I’m p-paying for my i-ignorance… Mother o-only nags at you… b-because she c-cares… and s-she’s always r-right… in the e-end...”

“Oh, fuck what Miranda says, I’m tired of that woman. Always telling us what to do and then thinking that pushing a couple of failed experiments onto us as “gifts” will make up for the fact that she’s disappearing off the face of the planet without a single trace and not telling us when she’ll be back. As far as I’m concerned, when Miranda’s not here, she’s not the boss of me. And the same goes for you, too” Karl says, roughly punching Salvatore in the shoulder.

“I-I don’t… I don’t think th-that’s how this w-works, Karl” Salvatore counters. “Even w-with Mother l-leaving us… f-for a t-time... we still h-have to make s-sure that th-things c-continue on… continue on as p-planned… or e-else we’ll really b-be in trouble… w-when she g-gets back.”

“Maybe,” Karl says thoughtfully, before taking another drag of his cigar. “I don’t know… I just have a sinking feeling that there’s something weird going on behind the scenes and these “gifts”, that she’s giving us, are nothing more than distractions to keep us entertained while she goes and does… whatever the fuck it is she plans on doing while she’s gone.”

Salvatore pauses for a moment, briefly remembering back to when Mother first told him that she’d be leaving the village to go “visit someone”, who she believed could be very important to their mission of reviving Mother’s long lost baby, Eva. Although he hadn’t thought very much of it at the time, the mutant man also remembers Mother saying something about how well Nadine would do at “keeping him occupied” until she finally returned, and maybe even after that, too. But why would Mother Miranda want or need him to be “occupied” when she got back? Wouldn’t she want to share her findings with him so they could work toward creating a vessel to revive Eva in? Wouldn’t she want to see and speak to him again after being away for so long?

Or maybe… could… could Karl actually be onto something here? Salvatore felt terrible doubting Mother Miranda, but he’d be lying if he said that Karl didn’t have a point about Mother’s behavior seeming odd, now that he was in the proper headspace to go back and analyze the memory properly, at least.

“B-but… if Mother h-has gone o-out of her w-way… to make sure that w-we won’t be l-lonely... w-while she’s away… isn’t th-that a… a good th-thing… doesn’t that m-mean she c-cares a-bout us... enough to… e-enough to do something l-like this?” Salvatore asks nervously, watching the younger man intently as he contemplates his response.

“I guess so, at least when you word it like that, it does. But something tells me there’s more to this than she’s led us to believe. She’s got something planned, and she’s definitely after something, and once she gets her hands on it, who the hell knows what’ll happen… whatever it is though, I doubt it’ll be very good, for any of us.”

“D-don’t say th-things l-like that… I-I’m sure M-Mother has a-a reason… a reason w-why she’s leaving… an-and if she d-doesn’t tell us w-what it is… b-before she leaves… th-then Im sure… I’m sure sh-she’ll tell u-us when she g-gets back… she’ll l-let us in o-on her p-plan… wh-when she’s ready… an-and then… once e-everything is… said a-and done… we c-can revive… r-revive Eva… and b-be a real f-family… a-at long l-last… isn’t th-that what w-we a-all want, after a-all… a f-family?” Salvatore asks, hoping this was doing something to ease the younger man’s clearly agitated mind.

What on earth it was that was causing so much turmoil as it flew around inside Karl’s head, Salvatore had no idea. But something about the bespectacled man’s unusually contemplative and concerned mood, coupled with the fact that he’d only punched Salvatore once since his arrival, was beginning to leave an acidic taste in the deformed man’s mouth.

Karl really and truly thought something was wrong, and the younger man’s continued insistence upon this fact was beginning to make Salvatore very very anxious.

Perhaps it was the unusually good and excited mood that Salvatore was in due to the near arrival of his gift, or maybe it was that soft spot for Karl I mentioned earlier, but regardless of the reason, Salvatore felt the odd need to help alleviate the younger man’s bad mood, just like he used to do for him back when Karl was still barely taller than his shoulder.

Mother Miranda certainly wouldn’t be pleased if she found out that Salvatore had broken his mandatory sobriety despite her explicit orders to avoid smoking so his experiment results wouldn't be hindered. That being said however, Miranda always seemed to want her 4 children to get along and be close, like real siblings, so Salvatore supposed that he could allow himself a break from his smoking break so long as, if Miranda did manage to find out somehow, he could get himself out of trouble by spinning it as a rare moment of sibling bonding between the oldest and youngest siblings, rather than the reality of the situation.

“I… I’ll t-take that cigar… if you’re n-not gonna smoke it… th-that is” Salvatore says, a small chuckle escaping him when Karl cheers in delight, practically throwing both the lighter and the cigar into the deformed man’s hands.

Salvatore’s first breath of the cigar is nothing short of heavenly once he finally lights it and takes a drag, and its moments like these when the mutant man finds himself secretly grateful that Karl hasn’t listened to a goddamn word Mother Miranda has said in nearly 4 decades.

A long period of silence passes as both brothers merely sit beside one another and secretly enjoy each other’s company.

“Miranda let me pick my gift first, so I didn’t get to see where the others went. Who did you end up with?” Karl asks, finally breaking the silence.

“T-the… the sh-short one,” Salvatore replies, “with b-blue skin, black h-hair, a-and, uh… oh, an-and white d-dots… all o-over her… l-like freckles… fins t-too”

“Oh ya, I remember that one. Gorgeous little thing, she was” Karl says, nodding his head in appreciation as a devilish smile spreads across his unshaven lips. “With quite the… voluptuous figure too, if I remember correctly.”

“I… well… I-I don’t know i-if… I d-didn’t... shut up...” Salvatore mumbles under his breath, taking a long drag from his cigar as Karl throws his head back laughing like a hyena at his older brother’s sudden bashfulness.

“Ah, come on, Sal, don’t be such a downer all the fuckin’ time, I’m just teasing. I know you still think about shit like that, too, even if you’ve managed to convince Alcina and everybody else that you’re just an innocent little follower who hasn’t had an independent, or dirty thought of his own since the cadou took hold. You used to be a fuckin’ doctor for crying out loud, and you’re still annoyingly the person Miranda goes to first whenever she has a new experiment in mind, cuz you’re smart AND she can trust you. You might look like you fell off the truck that was taking you and your fishy friends to market, but I’ve known you too long for that bullshit act of yours to work on me.”

“Act?” Salvatore asks, genuinely confused by what Karl means.

“You know, that stupid fuckin’ “moronic freak” act you do whenever Miranda’s around. The one where you act like you don’t know what the fuck is going on or what something is so that she’ll take pity on how stupid and childish you’re acting and give you more attention. It’s pathetic to watch and I’m gettin’ sick of seeing you do it all the time. Knock it off, you’re better than that.”

“I’ll… um… b-be sure not to… to m-make it s-seem as… uh… I’ll k-keep that in m-mind” Salvatore finally says, casting his gaze down to his pants for a moment, unsure how to feel about how… friendly and kind Karl was being all of a sudden. Salvatore knew Karl secretly cared about him, the brat does far too many conveniently nice things for him throughout the year for him not to, but hearing the younger man voice his surprisingly high opinion of him was definitely shocking, though still quite touching, all the while.

“W-which gift… d-did you end u-up… getting, Karl? I d-didn’t get t-the chance to… to s-see the others… M-Mother only showed me Nadi-er… my g-gift” Salvatore asks, deciding, at the last second, against using his gift’s real name lest Karl be given even more artillery to tease and riddle him with.

“Eh, just some tall dark haired broad. I think Miranda said something about her being Indian, or something along those lines.”

“O-oh… d-did Mother say a-anything about… whether she’s actually f-from here… o-or did she immigrate… f-from India?” Salvatore asks, tilting his head curiously as this new information about Karl’s gift piques his interest.

Karl stares at Salvatore with a look of confusion for a moment, his mouth opening and closing silently like he wanted to say something, but couldn’t find the words for it. Until, “Aren’t Indians from America?”

The sound of Salvatore’s right palm making firm and painful contact with the back of Karl’s head echoes across the reservoir almost as loudly as the following cry of pain from the man himself.

“OW! WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT FOR?” Karl roars angrily, pushing himself to his feet while he rubs at the back of his head, hat lopsided and barely hanging on to his head and green glasses no longer perched upon his nose, likely sinking to the murky lake floor just below the docks they were sitting on.

“I d-didn’t spend… th-the better part o-of 15 years… p-pounding an education... i-into y-your th-thick head... for you t-to say… f-for you to b-be spouting dumb shit… l-like that” Salvatore growls in annoyance, eying the taller man with a look that even he wouldn’t dare argue against, at least not with Sal he wouldn’t.

It’s moments like these when Salvatore is very happy that Karl, for as strong and fearless as he is now as a fully grown adult, is still just a little bit afraid of him after all these years. Not because of anything bad or horrifically traumatic of course, especially considering how often Salvatore had gone out of his way to ensure Karl had the least traumatic upbringing he could possibly provide the young boy, given both their situations. As much as he hated to admit it, even Karl would agree that Salvatore had done a pretty decent job of not fucking him up anymore than he already was, which the younger man would secretly always be thankful for. However, even a person as naively patient and serving toward others as Salvatore had his breaking point, and all it took was one especially bad day, resulting in the one and only time Salvatore has ever left a mark upon the younger man’s skin, for Karl to realize that Salvatore was the last person in this godforsaken village he wanted to purposefully make an enemy out of.

Thankfully, their relationship never suffered negatively from that one-off event, but it did force the two to come to a mostly unspoken agreement that has remained present and active, if slightly ignored at certain times, from that point forward. Agreement or not however, Salvatore could never bring himself to harm Karl like that again, even if he wanted to, which was probably the main reason why Karl was still the most comfortable around him, even after all these years. It was a secret they shared between them, and them alone, and it would be one that he would cherish for the rest of his life, as Karl would secretly cherish the kindness and brotherly love Salvatore had treated him with for all these years. They were brothers, regardless of whether they got along or not, and nothing in the would world would be able to change that.

That being said however, Karl was about to be in for a very rude awakening if he thought he could just do and say whatever the hell he wanted around Salvatore without there being any consequences.

“‘A-aren’t Indians f-from A-America?’ G-good grief... I o-oughta throttle y-you for th-that one” Salvatore grumbles through another drag of his cigar, shaking his head in utter disbelief and disappointment. Karl was so intelligent, and yet he could be so stupid sometimes that it physically hurt Salvatore to think about.

“But there ARE Indians in America, aren’t there? I know I’m not wrong here” Karl defends aggressively, his anger quickly giving way to embarrassment when Salvatore raises his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration and annoyance.

“Th-they’re called N-Native Americans... f-first of all... they w-were only c-called I-Indians... b-because the g-guy... the moron who f-first sailed t-to the A-Americas... w-was actually... looking for I-India... the r-real India... b-but back th-then... you h-had to go all th-the way... a-around Africa... to g-get there... but he th-thought h-he could do... d-do it a d-different w-way... he thought h-he could f-find India... by s-sailing straight f-from S-Spain... and g-going around the whole w-world... until h-he came b-back around... an-and hit Asia” Salvatore explained slowly, hoping to maintain his delusion that Karl had, in fact, paid attention to at least some of the lessons he gave the boy throughout their time together, even if it wasn’t actually true.

“But he didn’t. He hit the Americas and started calling the locals Indians cuz the guy, what’s-his-face... Columbine... Columbus... whatever, was dumb enough to think he was in India and not a totally different landmass” Karl finishes, looking like he at least remembered hearing about his information before, which was good enough for Salvatore.

Despite the grimace still etched onto his face, Karl groans in annoyed defeat and slinks back down to sit next to Salvatore, still cradling the back of his head.

“Anyways, as i was saying before I was so rudely interrupted with a goddamn history lesson-”

“You w-want another s-smack?” Salvatore threatens, mildly amused when Karl pauses his dramatic retelling, before sliding just a few inches to the right, away from Salvatore’s preferred disciplining hand.

Coughing slightly, Karl continues. “Anyways… going back to my “finding the silver lining” idea, or whatever the fuck its called. This whole “gift” thing might actually work out kinda nice for me in the long run, especially since the one I got looked like she was strong and could handle herself in a rough and tumble environment. If she proves herself, I’m planning on turning her into my assistant” Karl explains casually. “As much as I hate working with other people, normally, I’ve got some projects that would really benefit from a second pair of hands, so I’m attempting to make a “silver lining” moment out of this bullshit “gift” thing Miranda’s tryin to do and just hope and pray that things work out in my favor. Though, to be fair, if things with this girl don’t go well, I could always use her body for a cool idea I’ve had cooked up for a while now. What about you? What are you planning on doing with your new little toy once it finally arrives?”

Salvatore merely shrugs his shoulders. “It w-would be nice… i-if we c-could be f-friends… somehow… but…”

“Ya… you’re not exactly working with the latest and greatest set up, huh? Even a mutant girl might need a little bit to get adjusted to a face like that” Karl says.

“That’s c-certainly one way o-of p-putting it” Salvatore replies dejectedly.

Karl flinches slightly, which surprises Salvatore, since the younger man has a habit of caring very little for how his words affect those around him. Why on earth was he being so considerate, all of a sudden?

“Look, uh… what I meant to say was that… ok, so maybe you’re not like, the best looking guy ever, but like…” Karl stammers and stutters, trying desperately to figure out what he wants to say but seemingly coming up short every time.

Salvatore narrows his eyes again, suspicion returning. “You’re h-hiding something f-from me… w-what are you a-after, Karl?” Salvatore asks seriously, fixing the younger man with a stern look that he knows Karl recognizes.

“Hey, don’t you give me that fuckin’ look. I am too fuckin’ old for you to be looking at me like that, what am I, 12?” Karl asks.

“You c-certainly act l-like it… most of th-the time” Salvatore grumbles under his breath.

Karl clearly heard him, but knew better than to argue with the water not even a foot below where the two were currently sitting, his sunglasses having already taken a nice little dive as punishment for his big mouth. Salvatore might have only agreed to speak with Karl because the latter had demanded it, but they were still very much in Salvatore’s territory, and it wasn’t even a question of who had the topographical advantage should an “argument” actually break out between them.

Karl is strong, nobody can deny that. But Salvatore has the home advantage, and they both know it.

After a moment of tense staring, Karl finally breaks first, sighing heavily before tossing his finished cigar cap into the water below them, a crime Salvatore briefly contemplates knocking the younger man in for, before deciding against it, knowing, with his luck, that it would only come back to bite him in the ass later.

“Alright look,” Karl finally says, a look of frustrated determination on his face, “I don’t know what Miranda really has planned past her whole “get a suitable vessel for Eva” obsession, or what she’s really after on this mission of hers… but something about this whole situation going on recently just doesn’t feel right to me, and I think we need to do something about it before something bad happens and we all somehow end up dead. Now, I'm not 100% sure why I’m talking about this with the head of Miranda’s fuckin’ fanclub, but considering what my other 2 options were it wasn’t like I had much of a damn choice. My only saving grace right now is the fact that you’ll at least occasionally listen to fuckin’ reason, given your gaping maw can be yanked from Miranda’s tit long enough to hear me out, that is. It’s certainly better than my chances with Lady Super-sized Bitch and Crazy Psycho Doll, over there.”

“Are you s-sure you’re n-not just being p-paranoid?” Salvatore asks slowly, not wanting to offend Karl by outright stating he didn’t believe the younger man’s hunch, but also trying to figure out if Karl actually has something to be concerned about, or if he’s just looking for an excuse to badmouth Miranda.

“No, no no no, don’t you do this to me too, Sal” Karl begs in frustration. “You can go about the rest of your life loving the absolute shit out of that crazy woman if you want to and I won’t say a goddamn thing about it, but I need you to promise me, and I mean promise me, that if you see or hear something weird regarding Miranda and this little “trip” she’s about to go on, you come tell me so that we can at least make sure our own asses are covered when shit hits the fan.”

“Well… I-I uh…”

“Come on, Sal. None of these psychotic assholes have ever had my back like you, and that’s exactly the reason why I’m telling you all this” Karl says honestly, catching Salvatore off guard with the oddly familiar wording.

“I know I can be a royal fucking pain in the ass most of the time and that I’m not always the… nicest to you… even though you did kinda do... a bit for me here and there when I was a little tyke... But none of that matters now, because even if Miranda isn’t trying to hide something from us, with the two of us banded together, we could do whatever the hell we wanted while she’s gone, and neither of the other shitheads would be able to tell us otherwise. What do you say, Sal? Come on, you and me, together, just like when I was a kid, remember?” Karl asked excitedly, his eyes shimmering in boyish glee as he spouts off all the things they’d be able to get away with when Miranda finally left, the torment they’d be able to unleash upon Alcina being a particular favorite of Karl’s, it would seem.

Salvatore remained silent for a moment, contemplating the deal he’d just been given.

It’s… not a terrible deal, at least compared to some of the previous deals Salvatore has been offered in the past. It wasn’t like him agreeing to “ally” himself with Karl was a direct declaration of war against Mother Miranda or anything like that, merely a mutual effort that would guarantee safety for both him and Karl should Mother’s plan not go exactly as she wanted, which scientific experiments were known to do. Not to mention that giving Alcina a good messing with did sound like quite a bit of fun.

Maybe… maybe Karl was right. Maybe Salvatore was being a bit too much of a stick in the mud. It was just Karl after all, who Salvatore had practically raised, starting from the boy’s arrival into the family at 6 years old and more or less up until his factory was completed just after his 22nd birthday. Karl could certainly be a handful for even the most powerful individuals, but even on his worst days, he always found some backwards, convoluted way to apologize for his behavior.

“W-well… I-I’m not s-sure… I d-don’t know how I f-feel about… about d-doing things th-that Mother… wouldn’t a-approve of… just b-because sh-she’s gone...”

“But...” Karl continued for him.

“B-but I suppose… k-keeping each other u-updated… when we f-find… or h-hear s-something weird is… wouldn’t be… wouldn’t be th-the worst idea… in th-the world… e-even if it just t-turns out that… we w-were just being p-paranoid.”

“Excellent! That’s just what I was hoping to hear” Karl says triumphantly, standing up.

“A-are you l-leaving, already?”

“Ya” Karl affirms, “I’ve got work to do at the factory, and based on the look of things here, you were busy with a project of your own it looks like.”

Salvatore nods, pocketing his freshly finished cigar cap for later, proper, disposal. “I c-can’t even remember… the l-last time I… p-properly cleaned this p-place… it l-looks so m-much nicer… even w-without being f-fully finished…”

“Good for you. My own property could probably do with a good cleaning of its own now that you mention it. If nothing else though, I’m sure your new little lady friend will appreciate that you picked up the place for her arrival.”

“Y-you think s-so?” Salvatore asks.

Karl shrugs his shoulders. “Who knows with chicks, they’re unpredictable, but I suppose it’s possible. Then again, maybe not considering who you ended up with. I don’t know the full story or anything like that, but based on what I heard from Miranda, that blue bitch you went with was the craziest one of them all. Practically tore her pod apart the first time Miranda tried to put her in it, and caused all sorts of other damage throughout her mutation phase too, not that I blame the poor girl. I’d tear that whole lab right out from under the surface and set it ablaze if I could. Going back down there after so many years… I was puking like you for the rest of the fuckin’ day when I finally got out of that hellhole. Stomach still feels a little nauseous if I’m being honest...”

“I-I’m sorry… to h-hear that” Salvatore says, though Karl is quick to brush him off.

“Eh, don’t worry about it. I’m a big boy and I can handle myself. But do we have a deal? Keep each other in the loop whenever we hear anything… strange or abnormal about Mother Miranda or her special little mission?”

Salvatore pauses for a moment, thinking one last time about whether this was a good idea, before finally shrugging his shoulders and nodding. “Y-yes, we h-have a deal… b-but just remember something, Karl… 40 years d-didnt do… nearly as m-much for your p-poker face as i-it did for your s-smart mouth. If I c-catch you lying to m-me-”

“Ya, ya, ya, you’ll chop up my body and toss my remains in the lake to feed the fishes, I’ve heard that one a million times before” Karl interrupts. “Don’t worry, Sal, if I was planning on lying to you at any point throughout this process, you’d have already caught me by now. Even I know better than to try pulling a fast one over the walking fuckin’ lie detector.”

“I’m h-holding you to th-that, Karl” Salvatore calls over his shoulder as the younger man stands and begins heading toward the gate to return to his factory, chuckling lightly when Karl returns his warning with a middle finger.

“Take it easy, old man. And let me know how that crazy fish bitch you ended up with turns out. If all else fails I’ll turn her into a nice stuffed pillow for you” the bespeckled man says, throwing his head back in laughter as though he’d told a funny joke, before adding, “And I’d better get my sunglasses back within the week, or else I’m draining the whole fucking reservoir so I can find them myself. Don’t think I won’t do it, old man.”

Salvatore merely returns the middle finger, a response that Karl seems to appreciate, if the wolfish howl of laughter the younger man let's out says anything, at least.

‘Cheeky brat. Always plotting something’ Salvatore thinks fondly to himself as he slips back into the water to continue cleaning the reservoir, quickly grabbing the green sunglasses that had sunk to the bottom and pocketing them to return to Karl later. He pauses for a moment when a thought crosses his mind.

Within the past 24 hours, both Mother Miranda and Karl had been… unusually kind and affectionate toward Salvatore, which pleased but also confused the twisted man.

Karl was easy enough to explain away, the younger man has been flip flopping between periods where he likes and spends time with Salvatore, and periods where he’d sooner set himself on fire than be in the same room as his older brother, since the day they met, so as far as Salvatore was concerned, Karl’s behavior was hardly breaking news, though perhaps a bit surprising given everything going on with Mother’s gifts. Mother Miranda, however, was a different story.

Usually more distant and hands-off in her parenting ways, Miranda had been uncharacteristically affectionate toward the disfigured man the night before, going as far as to openly praise Salvatore for all his hard work and even hold him without being asked to. It had been such a wonderful experience at the time and yet, the more Salvatore thought about it, the stranger and stranger the behavior seemed, especially now that Karl had confronted him.

Speaking of Karl… Mother seemed quite upset with him when she spoke of him the night before. Going as far as to badmouth him specifically, calling him a ‘conniving little snake’, despite the younger man usually being her favorite by a country mile. Had Karl done something to incur Mother’s wrath? Is that why Karl came all the way over here to make that deal with him? Is he trying to rally the 4 lords to rebel against Mother Miranda?

No... No, no no no, that couldn’t be true, there’s no way.

Even Karl, for all his incredible intellect and hunger for power, was too afraid of Mother Miranda to ever try anything as drastic as that. That being said however, even though Salvatore doubted that Karl would ever try to rebel against Mother Miranda, it did seem like the younger man was trying very hard to get Salvatore onto his side for some reason. In fact, both Karl AND Mother Miranda appeared to be trying to sway the eldest Lord in their favor, though for what reason, he still had no idea.

It was definitely something that made Salvatore slightly wary of the both of them, though.

There’s nothing in this world that Salvatore hates more than doubting his beloved Mother, but even he couldn’t write this oddity of a situation off as a mere one-off incident or sudden change of Miranda’s tune. Mother has been acting very strangely recently, doing things she wouldn’t normally do and acting overly affectionate as if to try and throw everyone off her tracks, and the longer Salvatore thought about it, the more he couldn’t help but wonder, as painful as it was to admit, if maybe Karl was actually onto something.

Logically, he knows that Karl is just being Karl, looking to stir up some trouble for his own, and supposedly Salvatore’s, amusement, and that Mother Miranda is likely just trying to enjoy the time she has left with her children before she leaves on her mission. However, something in the back of Salvatore’s mind can’t help but wonder if maybe there’s more going on than he’s been led to believe by either of them. And as if this situation couldn’t get any more confusing for the deformed man, now his overly anxious and analytical mind was beginning to understand what Karl meant when he said there was something strange going on, no matter how much the rest of him practically screamed to just listen to Miranda like he always has.

Shaking his head of his scrambled thoughts and turning his focus back to his work, Salvatore decides that the best thing he can do right now is keep an ear to the ground on both Mother Miranda AND Karl, just to be fair. He still isn't sure if he plans on being 100% honest with Karl regarding their deal, but he supposes that maintaining a good relationship with the younger man wouldn’t hurt in the event he turned out to be right and Mother’s plan backfired on all of them.

Besides, if Karl did turn out to be right, and Salvatore was ready for if things took a bad turn, he could still be there to rescue Mother Miranda and ensure she’s brought to safety along with them. He’ll have successfully fulfilled his family duties to both Karl and Mother Miranda, without ever having to actually choose which side he was definitively on. A perfect plan if the mutant man says so himself. Now the only thing left to do between now and whenever things started getting interesting was work on the reservoir and wait for his gift to finally arrive, his mood regarding this whole situation greatly improved thanks to Karl’s visit.

Hopefully, if things went well, he’d have some exciting news to tell the younger man the next time they met up.

Maybe he’d even have a new friend to introduce.

[kashimos-hajime]

if the world was ending | b.b.

summary: bucky knows he’s still in love with you a year after the two of you mutually agreed to break up. when one phone call spirals into one plan being made and then another, and then suddenly he’s staying at your place, he wonders if there may be a chance to try again.

WARNINGS: small angst, a whole lotta fluff, literally fluff, swearing, mentions of s e x but they don’t do the do pairing: modern!bucky barnes x fem!reader word count: 6.7k

a/n: inspired by if the world was ending by jp saxe (ft. julia michaels). a kinda real take on how sometimes the timing just isn’t right for a relationship and how sometimes it is.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

Your voice echoes in his car and he nearly shivers at how gentle, sleepy, you sound. He wondered where you’d be: at a bar or at home, working overtime or eating out after a long night, on a date. The thought had made him tired, sad, but it didn’t tear a hole through him as it once would.

“Was there something you needed? Are you okay?” you ask, something shifting on your end and he stops at a red light, turning on his left turn light. He doesn’t know where he’s driving to or how long he’s going to just press on until he goes home. The clicking of the light fills his head. “I know the earthquake was a bit weird.”

“Earthquake?” He remembers it at the mere word. Him not even feeling it, not even realizing he was driving through one until Sam had called him from the office asking if he was okay. “There was an earthquake, yeah. I’m fine. Didn’t even know it happened until after it happened.”

“Yeah. Stuck in traffic?”

He laughs, softly, because you still know him so well. “Yeah. Got trapped in the office.”

“Yeah, I thought so.”

You’re never fucking here! It’s like I’m dating a ghost and I don’t know if it’s because I’m boring you or if you just don’t love me anymore. Your voice, angry, twisted with grief and frustration, rattles in his skull as he clears his throat. The light switches green and he turns, driving until he spots an off ramp he knows leads to the highway

“Yeah.” It comes out tight and choked.

Of course I do. I love you, I just—

Just what?

“Yeah,” you say for lack of anything else. There is nothing but silence, but the sound of your gentle breathing and the sound of commercials running. 

“Did you fall asleep watching TV again?” he teases, his throat easing up a bit as you chuckle with a slight sigh.

“Yeah.” You sound like you’re smiling. Bucky hopes you are. “Just staying up late.” Because I’m still used to waiting up for you, the hopeful voice in his head adds quietly. “What’s up? We haven’t talked in a few months.”

Because I just figured out how not to text you when every little thing happens.

“I just thought of you,” he says, “after the earthquake happened. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Oh. Thanks.” Your end of the line falls silent and he hides his sigh. He knew it was a mistake. “I thought of you, too.” Your voice is hushed, tender, still full of a love both of you agreed wasn’t meant to be. The thought has always made Bucky torn with sorrow, shackled with guilt and regret. He doesn’t know if they are simply not strong enough to fight for their love or if their love just wasn’t meant to be so strong.

He doesn’t know. What he does know is that he is still in love with you—he always will be. 

“Well, I’m glad you’re safe,” he says. “I still care about you a lot.”

“Yeah, I know.” You reply so instantaneously that he is convinced and he finds himself driving down familiar roads. His feet ache and he’s exhausted, but he keeps going. He doesn’t want to go home. “I care about you, too.”

You were my best friend.

“How’ve you been?” he asks.

“I’m okay. Single, if that’s what you really want to know,” you confess openly and his eyebrows rise. You don’t sound disappointed or angry about it, but he wonders if you still love him like he adores you. “But, yeah. Work is okay.”

“That’s good.”

“How’s Alpine?” 

Bucky chuckles at the thought of the white cat back home. He’d been the one thing they truly fought over when they broke up, and he knows his cat misses you more than he does sometimes, if the persistent clawing in the middle of the night is anything to go by. He’s taken to shutting the windows to prevent his stupid cat from trying to make his way back to you, for his own sanity and Alpine’s safety.

“He misses you.”

“Well, you know he’s welcome to visit any time,” you point out. You let out a heavy breath and Bucky thinks maybe you’ve laid down or sat up, but he wonders what the apartment they used to share together looks like now. You always rearrange it however you see fit. It’s one of the most frustrating things about you but Bucky could never bare to tell you to stop. 

It kept their life together ever flowing, different despite living in the same place. 

He pulls over at a gas station when he notices the light flicker on.

“You know if the world was actually ending, I’d drop everything for you,” he says to ease the silence but it doesn’t. Instead, it only prolongs it and he sighs, eyes closing. “I don’t say it to confuse you or cause you pain. I just… wanted you to know. I—”

“I love you, too,” you murmur, voice dulcet and soft as feathers he can imagine you kissing the words into his skin. He tilts his head back until it rests against the headrest and he swallows. He doesn’t expect it to hurt but it does. Like a dull knife jabbing into his side. Not quite enough to bleed but enough to bruise. “I do. I don’t think I’ll ever not love you.”

“Yeah.”

“I just wished it’d work out.”

“Me too.”

Knock. Knock. Bucky opens his eyes to see a station attendant mouth ‘gas’ and he nods, rolling down the window. 

“Fill up, thanks,” Bucky says, and the guy nods. He unhooks his phone from the bluetooth and shoves it between his ear and shoulder, fiddling with his wallet. “Do you want anything from the gas station? Did you eat?” He doesn’t mean to sound boyfriendly but it’s natural and he can count all the late nights he’d walk in with no question to buy you candy or chips. He hands his card to the attendant, taking hold of his phone again and switching off the engine.

“I didn’t. I fell asleep before I could,” you confess and he shakes his head to himself, looking out the window. It’s not too busy. The only other person is a dad filling up his gas while his kids are knocked out asleep in the back. “I don’t wanna bother you. I’m gonna go to McDonald’s anyway.”

“I could meet you there?” He winces at how much he immediately regrets his words and you let out a soft breath of surprise. “If you’re comfortable, I mean. It’s the one by the apartment, right?”

“Yeah.” You pause for a moment as if thinking it over. “Yeah, that would be nice.” He knows if you didn’t want to, you’d say so and he wonders how he lucked out. “Give me fifteen minutes?”

“No need to dress up,” he assures but you scoff as it sounds like you get up.

“I’m going to look like utter garbage next to you in your suit. The pillow is permanently marked into my face.”

“It’s casual and it’s McDonald’s, although that’s not really healthy.”

“Fine, you health nut. Always trying to make me make better food choices.” You sound only vaguely annoyed and he knows you’re just joking. Your voice echoes in a way that tells him you’re in the bathroom. God, the fact that he still remembers the sound of your voice in different rooms over the phone is a red flag for his heart. “Do you have any suggestions?”

“There’s a new place on the corner of your block.” He knows that because he drove past your apartment building too many times to count, trying to work up the nerve to confess he regrets everything: not spending enough time with you, being a shitty boyfriend, changing from the man you love. Not to get you to take him back, just to apologize.

You deserve better than his preoccupied, stubborn, uncaring, can’t-delegate-his-time-to-spend-time-with-the-love-of-his-life ass.

“Oh, I’ve been meaning to try that place,” you comment, your voice distant. “It’s on the way to the bus stop and since my car broke down—”

“What? Your car broke down?” 

“What?” Your voice picks up again as the guy hands back Bucky’s card and receipt. Bucky connects his phone to the bluetooth audio as the engine ignites once again. “Oh, yeah. A few days ago, it wouldn’t start. I’m lucky I wasn’t in the middle of the road.”

“I could take a look at it, doll,” he offers, pulling out of the gas station. He doesn’t even realize what he’s called you until the silence hits and he clears his throat. “You know, still know a few things about cars from back in the day.”

“Yeah. Bet that hot ass mechanic is still in there somewhere,” you reply. “I don’t want to trouble you. It’s late as it is.”

“It’s fine. Promise.” He wonders if it hurts as much for you to hear it as it is for him to even say the word. He can only repress the guilt poking at his sides. “We can eat and then I can take a look.”

Your sigh is heavy, tired, but he thinks there is just the slightest smile in your lips as you agree, “Okay. But you’re not paying for my food.”

“Old habits die hard, doll. I can’t say I can do that.”

“James—” A warning is edging into your tone and he laughs. As if he could ever be afraid of you, just seeing and imagining the adorable pout he always wanted to kiss off your face. This is a bad idea.

“Oh, no,” he mocks, “she called me James.”

“It’s your name, doofus.” Maybe you’re wrinkling your nose in annoyance, maybe your eyes are narrowed in an effort to hide the mirth seeping into your gaze. He doesn’t know, but a prickling sensation pokes into his limbs as he just imagines seeing you again. “I’ll see you in a bit? Drive safe.”

“I will. See you in ten, doll.”

He hangs up before you can comment on the pet name.

.

Walking into the bistro, he scans the place to find you sitting in the corner. The place is all wood and warm off-white paint and light bulbs hanging from the ceiling. Plants are everywhere, and he quirks an eyebrow at the tiny succulent sitting on the hostess stand. The lighting is mostly dimmed down to provide a more intimate setting, and a few other people are sitting and chatting as he approaches you. There’s a candle in the middle of the table, painting you in orange-gold.

You perk up when you spot him, and he notices with a half-smile you sit on your hands like you do when you’re nervous, your knees bouncing as you release a hand to wave. He sets down his coat over the back of his chair, sitting down and he soaks in the sight of you. Although he said you didn’t need to dress up, you’ve put on a nice light-blue off-shoulder top and a pair of dark-washed jeans, swiped on a shiny layer of pink lipgloss he knows tastes like strawberries, and winged your eyes black with eyeliner.

In short, you’ve managed to go from beautiful to exquisite, and he doesn’t need the comparison. He’s been wowed before.

“Hi, Bucky,” you say lowly, the menu open before you. A waitress comes to offer him another and he looks up with a small thank you before his eyes fall to the words he can’t quite focus on. “You look nice, as usual.” A small grin catches his eye and he sucks in a breath when he’s met with your face again.

Every goddamn time, you take his breath away.

“And you’re…. you’re the loveliest thing I’ve ever seen. As usual.”

He doesn’t miss the way you lower your eyes to the menu, picking it up and tilting it so you can hide your face. He smiles to himself and looks at the salads.

.

Bucky can’t quite remember when the last time he laughed like this, full of life and light and easy. “Stop laughing!”

“Was that even English?”

“Bucky—”

“It was honestly like you had a stroke.”

“I honestly did.” “Do I need to call 911?”

“I hate you. I am trying to live my life here, Barnes.” You snort into your iced tea at the memory replaying in your head, covering your nose and lips with the side of your hand as you bite into the straw. You’ve been recounting the tale of how you nearly ripped Natasha’s hair out with your bare fists on pure accident when you both completely lost the ability to speak English and choked on air, causing Bucky to just lose it. “It wasn’t even that funny.”

“You should’ve seen your face.”

“I can’t. I have this face,” you retort sourly and he takes a deep breath in an attempt to stop the ache in his gut as the waitress places the small apple pie between them as well as two dessert forks. A scoop of ice cream is slowly melting on the flakey crust and he picks up a fork just as you do. “This was really nice, Buck. Hanging out with you again.”

“Yeah. We should do it more often,” he says, twirling the fork in his grasp and allowing you the first bite. You manage to catch ice cream and steaming apple pie on your fork and blow on it carefully before placing it in your mouth. You nearly sigh, your eyes closing and he digs in too. Warm syrup seeps into his blood first when he chews down on the apple filling before a sense of longing for home fills his soul. His stomach heats up from the inside and he sinks into his bones with relief. This is exactly what he needed. “We can be friends, y’know.”

“Yeah, well, I guess.” You smile for a moment before focusing on the pie again. “You know, maybe the distance was good. We got time to stand on our own two feet again.”

“Yeah.” He grins softly, almost sad but not quite. You look so blissful in the warm light of the restaurant, gentle music filling the air. The restaurant has gotten fuller since they’ve entered and sometimes Bucky wishes it was just them in this little slice of healthy heaven, but you’ve gotten remarkably brighter the more people have entered. “It took some guts to end this, I guess.”

“Five years,” you agree. “Think it might’ve been a waste of time when we knew we wanted different things?”

“Well, it wasn’t so bad all the time. Maybe thirty percent of the time.”

“Ten.”

“Fifteen.”

“Five. Five percent was terrible and it was all near the end,” you state and Bucky swallows, the sugar of the pie turning sickly sweet in his mouth. “You can’t sell yourself short, Buck. I know that you regret a lot of things, but we both weren’t perfect in this relationship.” You stab the crust half-heartedly. “And maybe we could’ve found common ground. I mean, we both wanted Alpine, didn’t we?”

“And two or three kids,” he intones dully. He remembers the nights they’d lay awake researching names for their hypothetical baby, staying up to god knows when to read all about colic and teething and how to even survive the trimesters without tearing off your hair. “Yeah, maybe.”

“I never could imagine a family with anyone before you,” you confess, bringing another bite of apple pie to your mouth. The ice cream melts between the prongs of the fork and he grimaces when it lands way too close to your sleeve. You wipe it away with your used napkin. “I never told you that before but I really could see us being happy, Buck.”

“So could I.” The corner of his mouth twitches up, prompting your lips to begin to pull into a small smile. Something sad lingers in your eyes, though, and he leans onto his fist, elbow digging into the table as he tries to think of a way of getting that smile back on your face. “We would’ve made cute babies.” You raise your eyebrows, a doubtful smile digging into your cheeks.

“That’s what I said to Nat after we broke up. She said she always prayed your genes were stronger than Steve’s.”

“They have blonde children.”

“They climb walls and pretend they’re masterclass spies.”

“Okay, fair enough. How is Nat?”

“How’s Steve?” you shoot back playfully. “She’s okay. Tired, but with the new baby and all, it’s a given.”

“I have no idea how Steve convinced her to give him another kid.”

“That’s what I said!” you exclaim, setting down your fork and holding your fingers to your temples. “Okay, so, Nat loves kids but she agreed to two for Steve when they got married and now they’re having number three and it’s like wow.” Bucky laughs at the wondrous light in your eyes. “Maybe the sex is that good.”

Bucky chuckles, his eyes squinting as you pick up your fork again. “They probably talked about it a lot, debated, made slideshows. Knowing Steve, he wouldn’t do a thing out of Nat’s comfort zone even though he wants enough kids to build a Rogers basketball team.”

”Honestly, that would be so cool, but we both know who wears the pants in the relationship.”

“Steve is very happy wearing the skirt.”

“Yeah.” It falls to silence. They finish up their apple pie and you appear to be deep in thought so Bucky doesn’t say anything. Suddenly, you shake your head, chewing on the straw of your iced tea. “Was the sex good?”

Bucky’s eyes widen but you only stare him with honest eyes. You want to know like he didn’t turn into a mess when you kissed the spot underneath his jaw, like the simplest swipe of your fingers up his leg, the tiniest trail on his inner thigh, didn’t make him nothing more than melted putty in your hands.

“Fuck yes.” He sighs. He hasn’t had sex in a year. “Especially the last time after Wanda and Vis got married?”

“We didn’t make it past the kitchen. That was good.”

“Yeah.”

You hum as you think and Bucky pokes at the soggy flakes on the plate. You look at him and he looks at the plate and there’s a strange silence that comes over the table that has been wild with laughter for nearly an hour, maybe more. He leans back into his chair, his prong nudging an uneaten nibble of apple.

“Always thought we should’ve ended in bed,” he finally says half-heartedly. “That mattress took a hell of a beating whenever we argued.”

“Or, whenever you came home after a business trip. I’d miss you so much.” You grin and there’s something mentally exhausted in it. “I miss you so much but I think it figured out how to think about you without it hurting, too.”

“I’m glad.” He lets go of his fork and offers his hand, palm up. You reach forward and grab it, the heat of you sinking into his muscles. His fingers fold over your hand and squeeze. His thumb runs over your knuckles. “I miss you, too.”

“Will we want one check or two?” the waitress asks suddenly and their hands spring apart. Bucky fishes out his wallet, looking up at her.

“Two.”

“One.”

The two look at each other. You narrow your eyes, eyebrows furrowing together. “We agreed that we would split.”

“No, you said it and I disagreed and then you got distracted.” He grins triumphantly as your hands still in your bag and he pulls out his debit card. 

“One and I’ll pay by card,” Bucky clarifies and she nods, slipping away to get it.

“Jerk,” you mutter crossly. You cross your arms underneath your breasts and lean back against your chair. “I can pay for my food just fine.”

“It’s not about whether you can or can’t. It’s about me wanting to pay for you,” he retorts. 

He pays and the two get up, grabbing their jackets and leaving the bistro. They stop dead in their tracks underneath the small canopy when they notice the startling, thunderous rain.

“What the fuck,” you state flatly, staring at the puddles forming in the dents of the sidewalk and Bucky grimaces. The air isn’t frigid but it isn’t warm either, and he bundles his coat around himself as he tries to figure out how to stay dry. You’re tugging a scarf around your neck, your overcoat already settled well on your shoulders as you look at him. He’s got his own raincoat folded over his arm and he shivers against the thought of getting wet.

“I hope it’s not too presumptuous a thing to do to say I parked in the apartment’s visitor lot,” he begins and you raise your eyebrow. “I wanted to make sure you got home safe and maybe take a look at that car?”

“Oh, right. Too bad we could’ve used your car right about now.” You smile, pulling the hair out from underneath. “Okay. What’s our game plan?”

“Stay dry.”

Your smile turns wry. “Apt.”

“Here.” Unfolding his jacket, he holds it above his head. “Get under and then we run.” 

“We are not gonna make it.”

“Gotta try. Get under.” You slip beneath his arm, your hands wrapping around his waist and he takes a deep breath to prepare himself. “Let’s go.” They sprint out into the pouring rain, their shoes slapping against the wet pavement as they run up the block.

“This isn’t working, Buck!” You twist as you try to keep pace but it’s clear that they’re both gonna get soaked. Bucky can’t quite run with you latched onto him so he throws his coat over you, tugging it tight around you before grabbing you by the waist and hoisting you into his arms. As if on instinct, your legs wrap around his waist. Rain soaks into his skull and he squints as it drops into his eyes while you hold the jacket to your head and he tries to regulate his breathing. Your arm looped around his neck, you press against him in an effort to take off some of the weight in his arms.

Your heat soaks into his dress shirt and he pants into your ear, finally reaching the apartment lobby’s door. Dropping you in a dry spot beneath the glass shelter, he shakes his head and flicks off the wet while you unlock the doors.

“Are you good?” he asks, heat burning into his cheeks and you glance at him as you pull open the door. He rakes a hand through his hair, grabbing the jacket you’ve extended to him.

“I’m dry,” you affirm. “Come on. We’ve gotta get you dry.”

“You don’t have to.” Walking into the apartment lobby, he’s hit by a wave of nostalgia. It’s been a year since he’s breathed in the filtered air that carries just a whiff of vanilla. Before, it was five years coming home to this. Rubbing his shoes on the carpet, he follows after you with a squeak and he drips all over the tiled floor while you get to the elevator. “Whew.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” you point out, peering at him. “I’m not gonna complain if I get wet but you are and I’m not, so I’m gonna feel bad if I don’t at least get you a towel.”

“I didn’t want you to get wet,” he replies stubbornly. “We can just look at your car and then I’ll be out of your hair.”

“You’re not bothering me, Buck.”

“Still.” The elevator doors open and they walk in. You swipe your fob before pressing the floor and lean against the rail while he drips onto the middle of the floor. Wiping at some of the droplets dotting his head, he turns to you and grins. “Bet it’s just like old times.”

“God, don’t remind me. I can’t believe you asked me out right before we fell on Splash Mountain.”

“It made it memorable and you said yes.”

You laugh. “I guess so. Steve lost fifteen dollars to Nat who I clearly remember saying if you can convince me to say yes to Splash Mountain you can get me to say yes to a date.” The elevator chime and the doors open. You walk out and the keys jingle against your fingers. “Do you want anything to drink? I can make some tea.”

“Nah.”

“You hate tea. Right. Well, how does hot chocolate sound?” You glance back at him with an impish curl to your mouth. He resists the want to grab your hand and instead does a small jog to catch up with you. You walk with your hands shoved in your pockets and he casts his gaze ahead of him, swallowing. 

“Perfect.”

“That was actually a pretty good place, you know. I’m gonna need to go more often.”

“Yeah. The spaghetti was al dente and everything.” He hears you snort at his comment, reaching the door and opening it with a quick twist of your keys. He doesn’t know what to expect of the apartment he’s moved out of, but when you step in to reveal what used to be his home, he knows he shouldn’t have expected so much to change. The furniture has shifted, that much was a given, but that’s about it. It still smells like your strawberry shampoo everywhere and fresh laundry, and there’s still the dent on the wall from when Steve had tripped and spilled four bottles of beer he’d been carrying. The stains were removed. The dent Steve made with his head was not.

“Welcome home,” you joke weakly to him, your eyes flashing for a moment before you turn to head to the bathroom. He hangs up his coat, unbuttoning his dress shirt and you reappear with a towel before looking at the mess that is your ex-boyfriend. He’s soggy wet everywhere, even his socks. He thinks he might’ve stepped in a deep puddle based on the pant cuff absolutely plastered to his ankle.

You hand him the towel, eyes surveying the damage of his clothes and you chew on your lip. He runs his strands of hair through the towel, the heat of the memory of your body against his fighting off the chill nipping at his skin. You’ve always done that. Your hugs are warmer than any fire that he’s ever known and just the trail of your fingers has left a fire in its wake.

“I have the clothes you said I could keep,” you state lamely and he looks at you with surprise. He thought you’d have donated or burned it all by now. It was the hoodies and sweats he didn’t want anymore because they looked terrible on him and way better on you, but anything is better than being squelchy and soaked to the core. “I could get them out.”

“That’d be nice.”

“Alright. Help yourself to… well, anything. You know where it all is.” Peeling off his shirt, he heads to the sink where you keep plastic bags beneath the sink and throw it in, following it with his undershirt. Running the towel over his skin, he sighs. His heart doesn’t thunder nor does it beat wildly—that was young love—but it does feel fuller now that he’s here.

“Here.” You toss a red hoodie at him and a pair of black sweats follow after. He catches both with a grin, but it soon fades when he realizes what he holds and what you wear. You’ve changed into more comfortable clothes, wearing a matching hoodie to the one he holds in his hands. 

Thing 1 and Thing 2. Right. Before we were even dating. Just best friends.

“Old time’s sake.”

“Always said you should keep it for the next guy to come along,” he says, pulling it over his head. Your eyes stay on his own. Definitely past young love. You don’t even look at his abs and something about how familiar it is makes him sigh into the fabric of the hoodie. 

“Well, it never seemed right. This was when we were best friends, Buck,” you point out. He’s against the counter so it hides him changing out of his pants and into the sweats while you bustle around to gather what’s needed for hot chocolate. “I miss us.”

“Especially when we started sleeping together. Best sex ever,” he cheers and you laugh, getting a pot on the stove. Shuffling in beside you, he grabs some mugs and searches for the marshmallows while you get the milk to boiling.

As he brushes past, his hand rests on his back and trails across, and it’s not until you’re looking at him that he realizes.

“That was habit. I’m sorry.” He blinks. It’d been so natural to do, it’s strange to think it’s wrong now. “My bad.”

“It’s okay.” You grab a whisk and a measuring spoon, waiting patiently by the stovetop. “If I wasn’t comfortable with you touching me, I’d have reacted. You know that.”

Because of your shitty ex that isn’t me. Yeah, I know, he thinks. You’ve got a streak and I hate that I’m part of it.

“Yeah.” He pours marshmallows into the bottom of each mug. “Sorry I’ve gotta add to your string of terrible ex boyfriends.”

“Bucky!” The intensity of your voice makes him turn to you in surprise and you stand there, hands on your hips, face warped in an image of vexation. “If I hear you say you were a bad boyfriend one more time, I’ll smack you with a pan. You weren’t. If I have to spend the rest of my life, convincing you and reassuring you just so you’re brave enough to get back out there, then fine.”

“Doll, I—”

“I mean, seriously. You’re a fucking great boyfriend. You spent time with me but you gave me space, you listened, you always made sure I was comfortable and you’re so patient.” You turn back to your pot, dumping in some hot cocoa powder and whisking it a bit more angrily than he thinks you intend. “You do these things that seem small but mean the world to me, and you’re always looking out for me. I just… there is no way to say you were a bad boyfriend.” You look at him again and his eyes are wide as he regards you. “I don’t want you thinking just because we didn’t work out, no one ever will.”

He’s quiet as you gently pour each cup full of hot chocolate, the marshmallows floating to the top and he leans on the counter by his hand, looking down.

“It’s more than just the sex that I miss,” he says suddenly, and you look at him, expression easing.

“I know.”

“No, it’s… more. I miss your laugh, and the way you fold my clothes, and the tiny little post-it’s you leave on the fridge. I’m not asking you to take me back, I just… I’m still in love with you, you know? You’re the love of my life. It fucking sucks that apparently we aren’t meant to be.”

“I’m still in love with you, too,” you whisper, handing him a cup of burning heat.

“You ever think we could have a second chance?” he wonders, trying not to sound too hopeful. You smile behind your porcelain mug, just a tinge sad and sip before nodding. You set down the mug against the counter with a soft clatter and so does he, his finger tracing the rim of the white mug.

“I want to think so,” you murmur. Your eyes are focused on the small movement of his finger and he presses his lips together, trying to get something out. But then you turn away with your mug towards the couch and he follows after you. The TV switched on, you flip through the channels. “My car’s parked in my usual spot, if you actually do wanna take a look. I can’t force you to.”

“Maybe in the morning? You still take Saturdays off, right?”

“Yeah. Unless I get called in.” He walks up to you and sinks into the couch beside you. You lean on the armrest, knees tucked beneath your bum as he sits on the opposite end. They sip their drinks, a quiet falling over them. No one knows how to talk after the mention of a chance a relationship can come back to life once again. You pipe up when there’s a commercial break and Bucky blinks. “You know how you said you’d drop everything for me if the world was actually ending?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you mean it?”

“Of course.” He thinks about it for a moment. “Sky could be falling but it wouldn’t matter, long as I knew you were safe and that I was holding you tight, protecting you how I could.” You unfurl from your ball, leaning forward to set down your cup of melted marshmallows and hot chocolate and he drains the rest of it down. It settles in his gut warmly, but it also squirms as you sit up and face him. He sets down the mug. “All I want to do is protect you. I know in the end, it was me who was hurting you and just… I never wanted that. I wouldn’t let anything touch you if I could help it.”

“It’s impossible not to hurt people you love. That’s part of it all, Buck. And I’m sure I hurt you too, and I’m sorry for that,” you say, reaching forward past the knees tucked your chest. He takes your offered hand. “But I’m glad that you’re always here. That I know you have my back. Just know that I have yours. You can count on me.”

He squeezes your fingers gently and you smile wider. His own lips pull into a tender smile as he gently pulls you into him and you go willingly, crawling across the couch to rest against him. His arm settles around your shoulders as he extends his legs over the cushions. You nestle yourself, your cheek on his chest and his thumb rubs circles along your arm, gentle pressure through the sleeve of your hoodie. 

He looks down at you, and you look up at him, and there’s a moment when that is all there is—two lovers on a night in, too tired to sleep, unwilling to part for even a moment. You touch his cheek, and his thumb swipes over yours as his lips part.

“There’s no one else for me,” he whispers and your hand flattens against his cheek. He sits up and so do you, your other hand on his waist while his settle on your hips. There is something intense about his gaze, and by the twitch of your lip, he knows you’re bemused, but he’s serious.

“Bucky, there’s always going to be someone out there for you that isn’t me, no matter how much we both hate it.”

“That’s not what I mean,” he says. “I love you. I’ll love you for the rest of my life.” It is simple for him. The simplest thing he knows. Your eyebrows furrow together and you open your mouth but he continues on, “I’ll love you even if the sun goes black and the moon splits into two. I’ll love you even if you get married, even if you don’t, even if you have kids, even if you have none. I’ll love you if you become a dog person or even a fish person, and I’ll love you even if you move away.” You shift in his lap, and he swallows, shaking his head at the incredulous feeling you bring to him. Love fills him up and drains him hollow, and you are everything. 

“I’ll love you if I never see you again. I’ll love you if I see you once every six months, and I will love you if I am lucky enough to see you every day. I’ll love you when you’re old and grey and don’t remember who I am. I’ll love you enough to bring you back. This isn’t young love anymore. We danced around each other for three years before we got together—I’m past the honeymoon phase. This is fucking real for me. When I say there is no one else, I mean that I will never love anyone like how I love you. And I’m fine with that, as long as you’re happy.”

A beat. Bucky can hear his heart in his chest, slow and beating. He is sure of this and your eyes scan him, searching for lies. There are none.

“The hot chocolate inspired this?” you question teasingly, but your voice trembles, soft as feathers and he wonders if it is the same emotion that stitched his heart and lights it on fire. He is dynamite dormant, waiting for a spark. 

“Everything about this night did,” he murmurs. Your thumb swipes at his lip, a gentle thing and he smiles. His own gaze stays on your eyes and he remembers a time when he’d do anything to kiss you. Now all he wants is your smile.

“I don’t know if I love you as much as you love me,” you begin quietly, your words tasting like chocolate and sugar against his skin. He chuckles. “But I do love you a whole damn lot.”

“Never one for words, huh.”

“I prefer action,” you agree. Their noses brush and his lungs hitch as you close your eyes. He does too, the presence of you nearly overwhelming. His every nerve tingles and his hand on your hip tightens as your lips gently meet his. He doesn’t know anything but the familiarity of you against him, the gentle tug of your fingers in his hair, the blissful quiet that fills his head as his chest explodes. He kisses you back but you pull away, a soft smile on your face. Your arms loop around his neck as he looks at you and you look thoughtful. “That sounded a lot like Lemony Snicket the more I think about it.”

“I read books to my best friend’s kids,” he points out and you laugh. “Sarah really likes A Series of Unfortunate Events.”

“Well, we can’t fault her. Steve and Natasha are some of the biggest bookworms ever.”

“Doll, she’s four.”

“She’s a smart kid.” You shrug innocently and he laughs, scrunching up his nose. It has always been easy with you. Tentatively pressing another kiss against your mouth, he feels you reciprocate it quickly and his smile spreads wider across his face. Your arms tug him closer. “Bucky,” you mumble against his mouth and he hums against you. His fingers bunch the fabric at your waist and you squirm in his lap, inching to get closer. “I want to try again.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Your fingers dust over his brow, swiping away hair that’s fallen into his face. He grins, eyes closed blissfully at how fond the gesture it is. “I know we can do this.” His eyes flutter open at half-mast, watching you as you carefully trace down his cheek. “It’s gonna be okay, right? We’re gonna make it work, right?”

“We’re gonna do our damn hardest to try.”

“Okay.” You hug him tightly, resting your head on his shoulder and he wraps you in a tight embrace, letting you melt into him. Your whole body seems to relax in his hold and he closes his eyes, burying his face in your neck. “I needed a hug.”

“Well, you can always count on me to give you one now, doll.” You pull back and he raises his chin as a slight smirk twitches at your lip.

“Never thought I’d be thankful for an earthquake,” you whisper nefariously and he laughs into your mouth as you press a kiss hard enough to push him onto his back. He falls, legs straightening along the length of the couch. You fall with him, your hands on either side of his head and he simply holds you to him, laughing when you pepper kisses down his neck. You know every ticklish spot on his body and he can’t help but raise his head to expose the expanse of his neck.

“You’re evil,” he gasps, scandalized, and you peek up at him through your eyelashes, your eyebrow arched. He meets your eyes and it’s like the sun is in his chest. He is lighter than he has been in months.

“You love me anyway,” you say. 

Bucky can’t help but agree.

[ab1tofsp1ce]

A Warmer Refuge

CHAPTER 4: Tender and Untouched

Masterlist HERE

A/N: Hey everyone! I have more parts coming soon so follow if you’re interested!

Pairing: Din Djarin x Fem!Reader

Words: 3K

Warnings: Just fluff and a bit of angst

Description: You finally open up to the Mandalorian a bit, who seems to be far more interested in your life than you anticipated.

I don’t remember how or when I fell asleep, but I did drift in and out of consciousness enough times to paint a picture of what happened over the next few hours. Despite being exhausted, the cold initially kept me from falling asleep. Although I’m sure it truly wasn’t that frigid, I’d spent my whole life on sun-kissed dunes, far away from these rugged mountains. I lay there, using my rucksack as a pillow, curled up in a desperate bid to retain some warmth. Then, at some point, I felt a blanket of some kind drape over me, quelling my shivers. Later, I flickered into consciousness for a brief second to recognize the warmth and scent of fire, burning a few feet away from me. Finally, one last time, I briefly stirred again far later. I had turned over and was facing away from the entrance to the cave and the fire, its warmth washing over my back. Above the low crackle of the fire, I could hear the rain had faded, only contributing a gentle patter outside. This enabled me to now hear something else; the Mandalorian’s breathing. He gently cleared his throat with a clarity I hadn’t heard before. And then I realized why. He wasn’t wearing his helmet. And, when I listened further, I realized it was because he was eating. I was so exhausted I barely had the energy to stay awake and listen, but just the idea that he was right there, so close to me (even if a few feet away). He felt comfortable enough – maybe even trusting of me – to remove it. This thought sent a final jolt of glee through my heart, and then my eyes gave in, and I fell back to sleep.

When I woke up it was dark, and I was still turned away from the fire. As I sat up and looked over, I saw that the fire was only a glowing ember and… he wasn’t there. My heart froze, and I felt a rush in my head as I sat up more frantically. His stuff was still there, as was mine. The rain was still dimly pattering down outside, echoing slightly in this small cave. I stood up; the blanket that had been wrapped around me falling to the ground. When I looked down at it, I realized it was not a blanket, but his cape. My heart began to pound as I scanned the cave. Outside, it was too black to see anything further than a foot or two from the entrance of the cave. I approached it, barely noticing the stinging of my wounded leg. My eyes were yet to adjust, and the darkness seemed all-consuming and never-ending. I felt it caught in my throat – I wanted to yell out to him. I felt myself begin to panic. I fought with myself and my better judgment, before taking a step out of the mouth of the cave. The rain dripped down my arms, and I drew in a shaky breath for courage. But just as I took another step, I saw something in the distance. Something shiny, reflecting the extraordinarily dim glow of the dying fire behind me. As it grew closer, I began to make out a figure; I sighed in relief, almost collapsing right there. The Mandalorian marched towards me, blaster in hand. I was yet to see him with his weapon drawn, a strange thing considering it was such an integral part of his job. He stopped about ten feet away from me, still holding his blaster at his side. He seemed to be looking at me like he was expecting an answer. “I – you scared me,” was all I managed to stutter out. “I woke up and you were gone.” He stood there for a moment, and I thought he was going to disregard what I said like he usually did. “There was a noise, I went to go investigate.” I wasn’t sure what to do. In truth, I was just so relieved to see him there I wanted to bask in it for another moment. We just stood there staring at each other. It was funny, how he was only gone for a brief moment, and yet he had almost given me a heart attack. It made me realize how much I had been relying on him; on a foreign planet, far from civilization, in the middle of the night – he was the only thing protecting me. “Come on,” he said, securing his blaster back in its holster. “You’ll freeze in the rain.”

After reviving the fire, the Mandalorian sat down in the same spot as before, while I shuffled my pile of stuff a little closer to the fire so I could properly dry off. I had quickly discovered that my clothes, which were the same ones I had worn on Yak’ish Temeen, were not made for wetter biomes. Even though it had been hours since my first stint in the rain they had still been wet and were even more so now. Part of me knew I’d have trouble keeping warm in wet clothes, but there was no way I was going to try and have that conversation with the Mandalorian. So, instead, I rolled up my sleeves to wring them out and get some of the fire’s warmth on my skin. “What’s that?” The Mandalorian interrupted my thoughtless mind with his abrupt question. I looked up to see him gesturing to my left arm, in particular to my tattoo. It was a thick red band that circled my bicep, except for a one-inch gap at the front. “It’s cultural,” I tried to explain. “When we come of age, we get this tattoo. To show all other Grat’anarians that we are old enough to leave our carousel, or herd our cattle, or to get – ”. I realized then I didn’t want to finish that sentence. It was a can of worms I wasn’t ready to open. But my hesitance had come too late. “To get what?” There was an earnest tone to this question. I regarded him for a moment; how he looked genuinely interested in me. “To get married,” I admitted. “Were you…,” he trailed off, and I felt myself grow hot in the cheeks. “Oh! No! I mean… I could’ve, obviously, but I wasn’t…” I paused. “I couldn’t leave my family.” “Is that… what happens,” he asked. “When you get married?” I shrugged, looking down at my dirty, scraped hands. “Not necessarily. But when we marry it’s generally between different carousels, so one would have to move and the other would stay.” There was a moment of silence. “Why couldn’t you leave your family?” He had a cautious tone, clearly unsure of whether I’d be happy answering that question. “My brother and I were raised by my grandparents,” I began. “He was much younger than me and, when my grandmother became sick, I knew I couldn’t leave them. Our income depended on my grandfather traveling to Yemi’natar, but he needed someone with him. So, I started going.” I glanced up at him, and he was looking at me. It felt like he was trying to read me, to figure out what I really meant. I wasn’t sure what to do with that, so I kept talking. “The gap, here,” I gestured to the tattoo, “was supposed to be filled when I got married. It would hold a crest that belonged to… to my spouse’s family. They would get mine and I would get theirs. It’s meant to be a symbol of gratitude to your new in-laws; like a thank-you to them for raising your spouse.” I stared at the tattoo, which all of a sudden struck me as empty. “I’ll never get to fill it now.” The Mandalorian cleared his throat. “What… what happened back there? If you have refugee status for entering Kistern…” I sighed. I hadn’t talked about it. Not out of reserve or grief, but because I hadn’t had anyone to talk to. For the past year I’d been alone, barely surviving on scavenged scraps and favors owed by old acquaintances of my family. But, in truth, the general population of Yak’ish Temeen held, at best, very little regard for Grat’anarians, even though we were one the only true natives to the planet. “Grat’anarians were never favored by other species that settled on Yak’ish Temeen. We have a strong connection to the land, and we know how to not just survive but thrive on it. Some, particularly the –”. I let out a shaky breath. “… particularly the Pelosans never liked us. The Empire had promised them our land in exchange for their allegiance. But when the Empire fell, the Pelosans decided to take matters into their own hands.” I shuddered, trying to suppress the memories. “We were never fighters like they were. And worse, we never expected it.” “What about the New Republic?” I scoffed; it was a childish question. “What about them? There’s been so much disarray in the past few years, they didn’t know or care about what was happening on a small, isolated planet on the edge of the galaxy until it was too late.” It was hard to hide the contempt in my voice. Truthfully, I knew little about the politics of the galaxy, but I didn’t care to. All that mattered in my mind was that there was no one to help when we needed it, and now I was here because of it. The Mandalorian shuffled uncomfortably and looked away, and I realized I may have been too scornful. I tried to smile at him softly, to lessen the sting of my words, but I couldn’t think of anything else to say. What else was there to say? Except… “What about you?” I asked. He looked back up at me, as if confused, so I clarified. “What are you planning to do on Kistern?” He stared into the fire. “I’m hoping to find someone… find information, about something.” I was a little disheartened at his lack of transparency, although I wasn’t entirely sure what I expected from him. I felt sad, truthfully, at the sound of his voice. It was so… well, scared. Maybe that word was too strong, but there was something that twinged in his voice, a sound reminiscent of a feeling I knew all too well; loss. If he had told me outright that he had lost a lot in his life, I certainly wouldn’t have been surprised. I’m sure you don’t become a bounty hunter for the enjoyment. But, in some way, the less he said the more he said. It was his reservation, the ache of guilt or grief that resonated in his voice, that I recognized. I had felt it every second of my life for almost a year. “I hope you find it,” was all I managed to muster. In my peripheral vision I noticed him look back up at me as I looked down at the ground. It was a trifling talent I had always possessed, and I could see, with remarkable clarity, the exact way he was currently staring at me despite the fact I wasn’t looking at him. He was watching me, and although I couldn’t see what was happening under that helmet, I could’ve sworn I felt his eyes travel up and down me, lingering on my face as if scanning it for an ulterior meaning. My heart thumped loudly at the thought – the idea that he was watching me. That I was interesting enough to be observed in this way. The last year of my life I’d been forgotten, shed from society. Actually, if I was being truthful, I’d felt that way my whole life. Quiet, and of little to no importance. It wasn’t because of anything anyone had ever done; in fact, that was the exact reason why I had felt so lost. It was the same reason I had slaved for hours over those stupid little trinkets my grandmother had given me – I was so desperate to prove my worth. And now I was, as far as I knew, the last of my people still alive. For a whole year I’d lived with that survivor’s guilt, of how ordinary and unimportant I was, and I wondered why it couldn’t have been someone else smarter or braver sitting here where I am now. It didn’t matter that I had that tattoo – I still felt like a child. A tear slid down my cheek silently, and I frantically wiped it off with my sleeve. But it was too late. I couldn’t hold it back. The pain, the guilt, the grief, the exhaustion. Although my face remained straight, a desperate bid to retain some integrity, I couldn’t help crying wordlessly. My vision blurred; I could no longer tell if he was looking at me. Apparently, he was. “I lost everyone,” he said quietly, and I responded by quickly attempting to regain my composure. He was staring into the fire distantly. “Not just my Creed, but… but my real family, too. Many years ago.” He seemed to sigh silently. “And then, just when I thought I found another family, I lost them too.” It was hard not to quiver at the sound of his voice. So disheartened, aching with longing. “Who was… who was your new family?” He looked down at his hands, as I had before. “They were more of… an unlikely friend.” He chuckled slightly, as if recalling a memory of a fonder time. The sound was so warm and comforting, I couldn’t help but smile too. “I could use a friend,” I admitted. I bit my tongue after, wondering if I’d overstepped an invisible line between us. I remembered suddenly what his hand had felt like, warm under mine – tender and untouched. “Me too,” he said.

[writing-in-april]

Russian Roulette

Spencer Reid x Female Unsub Reader

Thanks to my beta readers! @definitelynotkatesblog and @clean-bands-dirty-stories

WARNINGS: NSFW, SMUT, MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING

Includes: Suicide, Attempted Suicide, Toxic Relationship, Gun kink, Angsty smut -There is no specific dominant person in the smut-

A/N: Please do not read if you are easily triggered or under the age of 18. This was really difficult to write but I am really happy the way it came out! I have a playlist I made for writing this if anyone is wanting it just ask! My requests are open for basically any character you can think of, I want to branch out and write lots of characters!

Word count: 3.2k

Masterlist

——

The warehouse that I had found myself masking my location in was in no doubt the most ghastly place I had chosen yet. I wasn’t sure what drew me to the abandoned depository, maybe I had subtly acknowledged to myself that I was at the end of my rope-I knew I couldn’t run forever. The smoke colored walls matched the ashes dropping from the cigarette I had lit to alleviate my anxiety. The cat and mouse game I had been playing with the team that was on my trail was coming to an end. They had an extra vendetta set out against me since I cruelly betrayed the trust built between us. Polluted air swirled around me as I dug my nose in a book, trying to distract myself from my impending doom.

A noise drew my thoughts away from Catcher in the Rye that I had been reading while sat on a shitty mattress, practically the only furniture in this hole in the wall. My manicured nails snuffed out the cigarette into the bed and discarded the paperback, knowing that this was the start of the end. The double doors swung open as the recognizable silhouette Dr. Reid, his shadow was tall and lanky, with noticeable wild curls that looked as if he had rolled out of bed. He finally graced my eyes with the details of his figure, every step he took had lingering hesitation. It had been weeks since I had last seen him, he looked considerably more tired since he had last graced me with his presence, purple dark rings sat under his eyes, his hair even more disheveled then normal, and his clothes lacked the crisp ironing that he usually sported. I hated that I was the one that had caused his disheveled state, I had found a kindred spirit in Dr. Reid. It seemed like we were made for one another, our interests were exactly aligned, the only major thing that separated us was my penchant for murdering people. He was the first person I had felt connected to since my mother and it pained me to see that my betrayal had obviously weighed heavy on his mind.

“I see you finally found me.” I stated nonchalantly as I stood up, he was standing as far away as he could, from my observation it was evident he was disgusted with me but he was still drawn to me like a moth to a flame. He nodded solemnly, the words that he wanted to speak seemed caught in his throat, so instead his eyes bored into my soul. We stood in contemplation just staring at each other, we were only a few feet away from each other but it felt as if we were worlds apart.

“Was it ever real?” He finally spoke up in a shaky voice, his lip quivering in either anger or sadness. “Did you feel what I felt?”

“I hadn’t been real to anyone in a long time until I met you.” I spoke honestly, though I wasn’t sure if he believed me.

I felt the memory of our first meeting flash before my eyes, a murderer had crashed into my hometown, killing important people with checkered pasts. Politicians, lawyers, and police officers- no one was safe. My job as a therapist put me straight into the cesspit of what I viewed as the worst of humanity, slimy high ranking fixtures of the community. I often felt my skin crawling as sick human beings put on a facade of perfection hiding their nefarious deeds behind closed doors, so I began taking care of them by slitting their throats in the dead of night.

When the BAU rolled into our city they immediately put everyone connected with the victims into protective custody. There wasn’t an immediately obvious motive so the team had collected anyone with an important role putting each person with a specific team member. I had been put with the genius of the team Dr. Reid. The stay in the safe house with him made our relationship blossom, we shared interests, hobbies, and even our backstories (I had edited mine a bit so they wouldn’t catch on). Usually I viewed the world as black and white good or evil and until I met Dr. Reid I hadn’t felt grey before just a dark cesspool of no emotion.

I had never even spoken his first name, I had told him that- “Someone who earned 3 PHDs should have their achievements recognized all the time.” I still couldn’t deny these strange feelings that welled up inside of me, no matter how hard I tried to distance myself.

When I had been spotted by the doctor running from the scene of a crime I could practically hear his heart break and to be honest mine did too. I never wanted him to see this side of me that I kept buried, I had wanted to stop for a while even after that first kill but what had first started out as vigilantism turned into a compulsion to kill.

His screams broke me out of my reminiscing my eyes snapped up to see the doctor holding his gun, pointing it straight at my heart.

“WHY?! Why you?” He broke out of his previous calm facade, letting me in on the anger I had stirred underneath.

“You know the profile Doctor you tell me” I asked, though no answer was given.

The gun was shaking in his hands, his fury boiling over, steam was practically coming out of his ears.

“Pull the trigger Dr. Reid. It’s what we’ve both been waiting for, isn’t it? Let’s skip the reminiscing. So go on. Pull the trigger.” His grip faltered, he wasn’t sure where to go from here, should he take you in? Or completely screw regulation and take out his unbridled rage on the woman who had cruelly stolen his heart by shooting her.

The weapon was lowered, his hands still shook in fury as he put it back snugly in its place. I already knew he had called his team, no matter what he felt for me before there was no way he would risk his career to let me go. Even though I had accepted the cards that had been dealt I wasn’t going to let them take me alive. Tentatively I stepped forward, wanting to gain a semblance of closeness between us before I sacrificed myself, his body was rigid in its place as our chests touched.

I pulled the gun from his his side holster, it was an odd gun for an FBI agent to carry, a revolver to be exact. My fingers gripped the curved cedar handle, dragging it across Dr. Reid’s clothed collarbones, his arms were stiff at his sides unmoving. He was unsure of my intentions with the weapon. He knew logically that I was cornered in this abandoned warehouse with no escape, and obviously I couldn’t do much with a single revolver, that’s why he had only put one round in, reserved only for my heart if the trigger was needed to be pulled. Then I softly, with uncharacteristic tenderness, grabbed the good doctor’s hand with my free hand to guide his large palms to envelope my hand over the gun. He seemed flustered, which was odd to me, his resolve of hatred had never weakened around me until now. Our hands were clasping the gun in unison, the clammy palms of Dr. Reid cradled my own as I reached over and spun the chamber to land on a random spot.

I prided myself on the ability to read people but I couldn’t ascertain the reason behind the evident hesitation in his eyes as I encouraged him to carefully set the revolver snug against my jaw. Was it possible he had developed a care for me or did this just boil down to fear of having an unsub handle his gun. His breathe was mixed with mine, I held my pattern evenly while his had become ragged, strong enough to whisp my hair away from my face. With a flick I unlocked the safety and a genuine smile graced my face, if these were my final moment I was glad I got to spend it with Dr. Reid, he brought me a strange sense of comfort that I had never known before. His whole body was shaking as my forefinger moved to the trigger- he almost looked as if he was going to cry. A resounding click echoed off the dull gray walls of my hiding place, I had momentarily escaped my fate.

Dr. Reid suddenly smashed his lips onto mine breaking me out of the brief relief. My body had grown rigid against his movements, I wasn’t used to emotional connections with anyone and they certainly were never romantic. Just the delicate touch of his hand on my hip was more care then I had ever been shone before.

My cold exterior that I had carefully constructed was now in ruins because of Doctor reid. He was the only one who truly saw who I was, past my trauma and the trauma I caused. I melted into his forceful kiss, the unspoken tension that we had created finally was boiling over. It was full of tongue and teeth, our noses bumping as we poured our feelings into the kiss, speaking without ever making a sound. My back collided with the nearest wall, dust flying off to coat our bodies, his knee parted my legs and rested between my thighs. His spare hand left my hip to cradle my cheek practically engulfing my face with his large palm, raking the soft pads of his fingertips across my skin.

The silver barrel still rested under my chin being held precariously by our joined grip, Dr. Reid’s hand left my cheek, snaking its way down to the waistband of my pants. The tips of his fingers danced at the edge building anticipation in my veins.

He suddenly pulled the gun out from under my chin and set it under his own, my eyes widened in confusion my desire vanishing by the second. I tried to pull our unified hold away from his jawline but unfortunately he was stronger then me.

“I don’t know if I can live without you” he choked out, he had used his profiling skills deducing that I was going to sacrifice myself. He spun the wheel setting the bullet in another indiscriminate position, resetting the stakes all over again.

“It’ll be ok.” I begged desperately trying to talk him away from the ledge, just because I had wasted my life didn’t mean he had to as well. I brought my available appendage and covered the outside of his hand continuing my efforts to pull the gun away from his grasp. He shook his head, tears were freely falling from the both of us, mixing together to form a salty pool. His fingers slipping underneath my encased hand finding the trigger with ease, he pulled it quickly a sickening click resounded through the stale atmosphere. Once I was satisfied that he had survived air quickly left my body releasing the breath that I had held tightly in my lungs.

Mimicking his reaction from earlier I submerged us into another kiss, this one was tinged with my anger from his reckless move. I voiced my displeasure surrounding his actions by biting into his lip, bruising the plush tender skin. A groan escaped from him, the salacious kiss was now tainted with blood from his lips mixing together in gory harmony.

Undulating my hips onto the thigh that still sat between my legs, desire snuck itself back inside of me, rebuilding what had been banished. I suddenly had the urge to remove every cloth barrier that remained between us, I needed him now. Dr. Reid clearly shared the sentiment as he started pulling on the clothing covering my body. I did my best to shuck off his plum colored blazer with my available phalanges while he attempted to snap open the front of my pants. Our hands still were glued the wooden hilt of the gun that was rooted in its spot at the edge of the doctor’s jaw. The buttons of his dress shirt popped around us as my painted nails dug into the cotton, tearing the offensive fabric from his body. With frantic inelegant movement our outer clothing was ripped off our forms, the only barrier that lingered was our undergarments. His nimble fingertips wound around to the clasp of my bra tugging forcefully the clasp broke, freeing me from its confinement.

The lace was discarded in hast revealing my breasts to him he surged forward capturing my nipple in his mouth as my hips ground into his thigh. Circling my bud he glanced upwards, taking in the sight of my flushed cheeks, hair slicked with sweat, and the gun that I had swiftly moved to my temple removing it from his mandible. Excitement prickled in my core as he meandered down to where I craved him the most, he fisted the mesh- the last remaining remnant of clothing covering my body. A tearing noise filled the space, reverberating around us as the mesh separating us was torn away from me, revealing my full form.

His deft fingers gathered the building excitement between my folds, then he brought them to make contact with my clit. He rubbed slow harsh figure 8s against my pearl, I could feel myself getting wetter- which I didn’t think was possible. The ministrations continued for a while, but I was antsy to get his fingers inside of me. A beg almost fell from my mouth when all of a sudden with no warning his fingers plunged into my heat making my body convulse around him. He curled them expertly, nudging them perfectly at my g spot making the pit in my stomach grow and spread throughout my entire body.

Our hold had started to loosen on the gun so I clutched around the revolver tighter tugging our entangled fingers to rest the metal shaft perfectly against my temple. Upping the stakes further I rapidly clicked the trigger, the gun still had not administered its bullet into my brain, making the obscene act even better then before. His eyes held fear for a moment but couldn’t help his reaction to the clicks, a deep seated groan from deep in his chest. The sensations flowing through my body almost became too much to bear as he moved his thumb to my clit. My back arched against the wall as he sunk the blunt edges of his teeth into my collarbone while flicking against my clit with his thumb, sending me closer to bliss. He must have discerned that I was close to the edge and pulled his fingers away, his knuckles bumping against my g spot one last time which pulled a pathetic whimper from my throat while screwing my eyes shut.

I heard the tell tale sign of a belt buckle clinking causing my eyes to snap open, his full body was finally on display for me. My eyes drank in the sight before me, the doctor was just as I had imagined in my dreams, not too thick but long enough that I thought it might not fit. I reached forward to pump his length spitting into my palm as I jerked him off.

“Jump.” He whispered desperately into the shell of my ear, with careful precision my legs wrapped around his naked torso as I locked him in. The gun was the only barrier that remained between us as he lined himself up to my entrance and thrusted in one swift motion, breaching my walls for the first time.

“Fuck.” The soft expletive fell from his rose hued lips on the column of my throat making my toes curl.

His hips snapped into mine starting a pace with deliberate deep thrusts, my free arm wrapped around his neck trying to pull him in as close as possible. My fingers then wound through his messy curls yanking back so I could pepper kisses along the nape of his neck earning a sharp grunt from Dr. Reid as he picked up the pace. I bit the inside of my cheek in concern as he moved the gun to be placed under his jaw again. Tears started to fall again from my eyes as I silently pleaded for him not to pull the trigger, he ignored my pleas and reset the bullet to a random position once more. His rhythm faltered as the gun clicked for the fifth time, I knew we were testing fate too much at this point and that our luck was running out.

He kept the gun in its position while he picked up his momentum resuming his previous pace. My blood red nails dug into any part of him that I could grab onto leaving red streaks down his chest, back, and biceps as he reached parts of me that I didn’t even think existed. Our eyes locked together as his cock brushed against my g spot causing me to clench around him, we both moaned at the sensation hurtling us both closer to release.

I reached my hand down to rub harshly on my clit as I felt my climax coming just around the corner, my eyes rolling back in response to the added titillation. I then dragged our encapsulated hands away from Spencer pulling the barrel inside my mouth, his fingers flexed around mine anxiously as he soft whispers into my ear attempting to save me from myself. We both had somehow sensed that it was the end, I thought it was very fitting to end my life in the arms of the only person in the world I could find myself caring about. He didn’t stop his thrusts but they were now at a slow languid pace trying to savor every last moment he had with me.

“Spencer” I moaned in bittersweet symphony as I let myself kiss his bruised lips for the last time, our tears were falling giving our kiss a salty taste. A feeling of bliss suddenly overtook my body as I came in glorious crescendo. I rode out my high before I accepted my fate, my blood pounding in my ears for the final time. The wall was painted with blood as I pulled the trigger, ending my life with a bang.

*****

The shot rang in Spencer’s ears, it took him a minute to realize what had happened and that the object of his desire was gone. He was still holding the gun as the body of his unattainable love slumped onto him in death, his face speckled with scarlet. Finally the offending object slipped through his fingers clattering on the floor as he cradled her body.

His sobs echoed the empty rooms bouncing off the the walls mixing with the police sirens in the distance.

“He loved and he loved and he lost her, and it hurts like hell”-Fleurie

Tag list for Russian Roulette:

@zhuzhubii​