#but now he learned that was NEVER the case

[loveesiren]

What about jj saving rafes gf instead of Sarah when she falls off the boat? Even though jj and Rafe hate each other

of course babes! sorry this took a while, i hope you enjoy! :)

𝕆𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕓𝕠𝕒𝕣𝕕

warnings: not proofread, language, slight angst

wc: 2.4k+

Before you were Rafe Cameron’s girl, you were a Pogue through and through. You grew up with JJ and John B, learning to boat, fish, and work hard for the things you wanted. Life was simple but full, with endless summer days spent on the water and nights filled with laughter. When Pope and Kiara joined your crew, it felt like your family was complete—especially since having Kiara around meant you finally had someone who understood what it was like to be a girl surrounded by all that chaotic, masculine energy.

But things changed when you caught the attention of Rafe Cameron. At first, it seemed impossible. A Kook and a Pogue? The idea alone was laughable. Yet, against all odds, there was something magnetic about Rafe—a spark you couldn’t ignore. And to your surprise, he felt it too. It wasn’t long before stolen glances turned into secret meetings, and those meetings turned into something deeper. But every step closer to Rafe felt like a step away from your childhood friends.

Sure, it was fine when John B started dating Sarah Cameron. But when you got with the older Cameron sibling, it was a problem. Rafe’s constant harassment didn’t help your case. Sarah was much kinder than her brother, and the Pogues saw her as someone who genuinely cared for John B. Rafe, on the other hand, had a reputation that preceded him—a volatile temper and a knack for trouble that made him nearly impossible to trust. Except when it came to you. Your presence seemed to calm the storm in his mind.

Choosing Rafe wasn’t easy. It wasn’t that you stopped caring for the Pogues. In fact, you still loved them fiercely, even if your paths had diverged. Being with Rafe meant walking a tightrope. While he harbored a burning hatred for your old crew, he knew better than to act on it—because hurting them meant risking you. And losing you was unthinkable for Rafe, who had grown to see you as the one thing anchoring him in his stormy world. But even his restraint couldn’t erase the tension. The Pogues saw your relationship as a betrayal, and you feared they’d never forgive you. 

Now, you sat alone on the edge of a boat, staring out at the vast expanse of the Atlantic as it stretched endlessly before you. The journey to Morocco wasn’t one you’d ever imagined taking. But here you were, caught between two worlds, trying desperately to keep the peace. It was your idea to bring Rafe and the Pogues together for this mission. You’d convinced Rafe to help them track down Groff, who had made off with his money, knowing it could also give JJ and Pope a chance to evade capture. Even if you weren’t close anymore, you couldn’t bear to see the people you once called family thrown behind bars.

But, as expected, not everything had gone to plan.

The Pogues didn’t trust Rafe—and for good reason. His track record spoke for itself. As soon as they got him on the boat, they tied him up in the tiny bathroom, keeping him under lock and key. You understood their logic, but that didn’t make it any easier to see your boyfriend treated like a prisoner. Worse still, they’d forbidden you from seeing him until you reached Morocco. You didn’t fight them on it. Confrontation had never been your strong suit, and besides, you knew better than to argue with JJ when his mind was made up.

So, you sat in silence, listening to the rhythmic crash of waves against the hull, the salty breeze brushing against your face. The solitude of the sea was both comforting and suffocating. It gave you time to think—about the choices you’d made, the people you’d hurt, and the fragile balance you were struggling to maintain. You wanted to believe this trip could be a turning point, a chance to bridge the gap between Rafe and the Pogues. But deep down, you knew the odds were slim. Trust was hard to rebuild, and the wounds on both sides ran deep.

As the sun dipped lower on the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, you let out a weary sigh. All you could do now was wait—for land, for answers, for the moment when everything would inevitably come to a head. Until then, the sea was your only companion, its endless expanse reflecting the tangled mess of your heart.

-

Sarah was kind. She always had been. Even after all her brother had put her through, she still cared for him enough to make sure he was fed and hydrated. She did the same for you.

“Brought you some dinner,” she said, plopping down beside you.

“Thanks,” you responded softly. You took a few bites of the sandwich she brought you before putting it aside. Your appetite had been wearing thin the entire trip.

“I think it’s stupid too,” she said, looking out at the horizon while the late sun cast bright ripples on the calm water.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

She shrugged her shoulders. “The whole Kook versus Pogue thing. Rafe’s done his fair share of bad shit, but haven’t we all? I really think he wants to help this time.”

“He does,” you said. “All he wants is to get his money back from Groff. He doesn’t care about the crown. Honest.”

“I know,” she said, offering you a soft smile. “We’ll be there soon. Try to rest.”

You pondered her words as she walked off. You weren’t overly close with Sarah. It was almost as if you and she had swapped lives. You started seeing Rafe around the same time Sarah and John B got together, and for the last three years, she’d been getting a taste of life’s adventures while you enjoyed the finer things. You loved Rafe. You were in love with him. You couldn’t imagine being without him. But you often found yourself missing the life you once lived with the Pogues.

You cringed as you swallowed one final shot of whiskey, a vice that did close to nothing to take the stress away. You tossed the bottle to the side and rolled over, closing your eyes and trying your best to relax to the soothing sounds of the ocean. Eventually, you were lulled to sleep, dreaming of Rafe. He smiled as he took you into his large arms, and you felt secure in his warm embrace.

The dream was short-lived, though, as you were thrown roughly against the hard wall of the boat. Disoriented, you struggled to find something to grip. Rain lashed against your face as the boat pitched violently from side to side.

You made your way to your feet and took in your surroundings. The storm had hit fast. You could see movement inside the helm as the Pogues scrambled to navigate the chaos and secure the boat.

“Rafe,” you whispered, your breath hitching. “Rafe!” your voice rose into a frantic scream as you stumbled toward the helm. You knew you had to find him—if he was left unsecured, he’d drown.

“Y/N, get inside!” JJ’s voice cut through the storm. You turned to see him and John B holding the door open, JJ’s hand extended toward you. You reached for him, but another violent wave threw you to the deck.

“Where’s Rafe?!” you yelled, coughing as salty seawater stung your throat.

“Kiara’s getting him!” John B shouted back.

Moments later, Rafe appeared in the doorway, drenched but alive. “Y/N!”

Relief flooded through you at the sight of him, but your joy was short-lived. A massive wave loomed on the horizon, crashing into the boat with terrifying force. You screamed as the water dragged you off the stern, the world disappearing into a churning abyss.

“Y/N!” JJ and Rafe shouted in unison.

“Rafe!” you screamed, fighting to keep your head above water. The sea clawed at you, threatening to pull you under. “Rafe! Help!”

“I’m coming, Y/N!” JJ’s voice rang out as he dove into the water after you.

“JJ, what are you doing?!” John B yelled, trying to hold Rafe back from following. “JJ, no, no, no!”

But it was too late. JJ had already disappeared beneath the waves.

“Y/N!” Rafe’s scream was raw with desperation, tears streaming down his face. John B had never seen him so unhinged, so consumed by fear.

John B pressed his hand firmly against Rafe’s chest, forcing him back inside. “Come on, man! We can’t help them if we drown too!” he yelled over the howling wind. He shoved Rafe into the cabin and slammed the door shut.

“No, no, no, no, no!” Rafe sobbed, pounding his fists against the wall. “I have to go help her! I have to find her, man!”

“Rafe!” Sarah’s voice cut through the chaos as she wrapped her arms around him. “Rafe, it’s okay! Let’s just get to land. I’m sure they’ll find their way back!” She rubbed his back as he crumpled, his sobs echoing through the small cabin.

-

The water finally calmed as you and JJ struggled onto the sand, every muscle in your body screaming with exhaustion. The cold night air bit at your skin, but the relief of solid ground beneath you was overwhelming. Collapsing onto the beach, you coughed violently, lungs burning as you fought to catch your breath.

“Are you okay?” JJ asked, his voice ragged between gasps for air.

You nodded weakly, words feeling like too much effort. After a moment, you managed to rasp, “A-Are you?”

“Yeah,” he breathed, his voice barely above a whisper.

Minutes passed as you both sat in silence, trying to steady your breathing. The ocean stretched out before you, dark and infinite, illuminated only by a pale sliver of moonlight. A single tear slid down your cheek as your thoughts turned to Rafe—his face, his voice, and the uncertainty of whether you’d ever see him again.

“They’ll be okay, Y/N,” JJ said softly, his tone more reassuring than he probably felt. “At first light, we’ll head down the beach. We’ll find them.”

You nodded, swallowing back another wave of emotion. “Hey, Jayj?” Your voice was barely audible.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you,” you murmured, gratitude lacing every syllable.

He turned to you with a tired but genuine smile. “Can’t kill a Pogue, right?”

The next thing you knew, the sun was warming your skin, its gentle rays coaxing you back to consciousness. The once-violent sea was calm now, its rhythmic waves bringing an unexpected peace. You stretched, muscles stiff and aching, before glancing toward the shore.

JJ was standing near the water, absentmindedly dragging his foot through the sand. You rose to your feet, brushing off grains of sand stuck to your damp clothes, and made your way over to him.

“Hey,” you greeted softly.

He turned, offering you a small smile. “Hey. Sleep okay?”

“Guess so,” you chuckled. “Didn’t even realize I passed out.”

“Not surprising,” JJ said with a shrug. “You were pretty wrecked.” His tone was light, but concern lingered in his eyes. “I was thinking we head up the beach toward where the boat was headed. If they made it to land, that’s where we’ll find them.”

You winced at the word if, the uncertainty slicing through your chest like a blade. “Okay,” you replied firmly. “Let’s go.”

For the next 45 minutes, the two of you trudged along the beach in silence, your shared determination a quiet bond. Every step brought a mix of hope and dread as you scanned the horizon for any sign of your loved ones.

“You know,” JJ said suddenly, breaking the silence, “they’re probably feeling the same as us—like they might never see us again.”

You shook your head, gripping tightly onto hope. “We’ll find them, Jayj. We have to.”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice soft but resolute. “We will.”

A few more minutes passed before you gathered the courage to speak again. “JJ?”

He glanced at you, his brow furrowing slightly.

“Do… Do you hate me?” The question felt heavy on your tongue, dredging up years of unspoken tension.

JJ’s expression shifted, a flicker of pain crossing his features. He sighed, raking a hand through his damp hair. “No, Y/N. I don’t hate you. I don’t think I could hate you even if I wanted to.”

His words caught you off guard, and you looked down, fiddling with your hands. “It just… it felt like you did.”

JJ’s voice softened as he continued. “I was hurt. You were my best friend, and when you and Rafe got together, it felt like he stole you away. From me. From all of us.”

A tear slid down your cheek, and you quickly wiped it away. “I’m sorry, Jayj. I never wanted to hurt you.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” he said firmly. “All you’ve ever done was try to keep the peace. I should’ve seen that sooner. And last night, when you fell off the boat…” His voice wavered, and he looked away. “All I could think about was how I couldn’t let you die thinking I hated you. You’re my sister, Y/N. You always will be.”

Tears blurred your vision as you stepped forward, wrapping your arms around him. JJ hugged you back tightly, resting his chin on your head.

“I love you, Jayj. I’ve missed you so much,” you whispered.

He pulled back, his hands on your shoulders. “We’re gonna fix this. All of it. I’ll even make an effort with Rafe if it means getting you back.”

An hour later, the sun was high in the sky when you spotted movement in the distance.

“J, is that them?” you asked breathlessly, shielding your eyes with your hand.

JJ squinted at the figures. “Let’s find out,” he said, quickening his pace.

As you got closer, the shapes grew clearer: Sarah’s golden hair, Kiara’s familiar stance, and Rafe’s unmistakable silhouette towering above the group.

“Rafe!” you cried, breaking into a run.

He turned at the sound of your voice, his eyes widening before he sprinted toward you. The moment he reached you, his arms wrapped around you, lifting you off the ground.

“Oh my God,” he murmured, his voice breaking as he buried his face in your neck. “I thought I lost you. I thought I’d never see you again!” He cried.

“I’m here,” you whispered, tears streaming down your face. “I’m safe. JJ saved me.”

When Rafe finally pulled back, his gaze shifted to JJ, who stood a few feet away, watching the reunion. Without hesitation, Rafe approached him and pulled him into a hug.

“Thank you,” Rafe said, his voice thick with emotion.

JJ stiffened for a moment, then relaxed, clapping Rafe on the back. “Yeah, well… couldn’t let her die on my watch,” he said with a crooked smile.

As you stood there, watching the two men who meant so much to you, hope swelled in your chest. For the first time in years, you felt like things might finally be okay.

© loveesiren 2025 - do not copy, translate, transfer, or repost my work without my permission. if you find my work on sites other than through links i've provided, please notify me.

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[mariasont]

EEEEK your post prison fic for spencer is fREAking me out!!! could you maybe do one where spencer is now teasing the reader a bit? maybe he's giving her extra praise and she freaks (what would i do if he called me a good girl? 😩) (this is very indulgent to my praise kink i'm so so sorry 🧎🏻‍♀️‍➡️) tytyty!! i adore love and cherish you and your work 💕

I Aim To Please - S.R

a/n: shewwwwww to be complimented by post prison spencer fucking reid. im drooling!!!! but anyway babes i adore & love YOU!!!! so thank u so so sooo much for requesting 💖💖

masterlist

pairings: spencer reid x shy!media-liaison!reader

warnings: spencer being hot, reader being shy girl, spencer being a little shit who loves to tease

wc: 1.5k

There were a few basic rules you had established from working at BAU. First, avoid Rossi at all costs until he’s had at least two cups of coffee. Second, never attempt to outwit Emily; she’ll see right through you and crush your argument every single time. And third—perhaps the most crucial—do everything in your power to maintain your freaking composure around Dr. Reid.

That last one, however, was proving to be a monumental challenge. It wasn’t just the way he spoke, his brain firing off at a speed only he could keep up with. It wasn’t even the way he seemed oblivious to how endearing those very quirks were. No, it was the fact that the simple act of him breathing in your direction had you scrambling to hold yourself together. And honestly you were failing miserably.

Which is why you spent most of your time holed up in your office. It wasn’t much—just a desk, a slightly uncomfortable chair, and a perpetually growing stack of case files that seemed determined to bury you. But it offered privacy, and that was enough. Here you could breathe, decompress, and occasionally allow yourself to daydream about a certain genius profiler without the risk of public humiliation.

The bullpen was proving to be too chaotic, too close to him. Your office gave you distance, a buffer. But, as you had come to learn, hiding only worked when he didn’t decide to seek you out. And Spencer Reid had a knack for finding you when you least expected it.

"Hey."

You jumped slightly, nearly fumbling the stack of press notes you’d been carefully organizing.

Turning toward the door, you found Spencer leaning casually against the frame, a file tucked under one arm and a distracted sort of smile on his face. His tie was slightly loosened, his sleeves rolled up just enough to expose his forearms, and—just like that—your brain completely short-circuited.

"Hi," you said, trying not to sound too startled. "Do you, um, need something?"

"Yeah." He further into the room, lifting the file in explanation. "I was looking at the local coverage of our case, and I noticed a couple discrepancies in the timeline published."

"Oh,” you said softly, quickly shuffling the press notes into a messy pile and pushing them to the side. "Well, um, sometimes reporters try to fill gaps when they don't the facts. It's... frustrating, but it happens."

You glanced up at him briefly, but that look of his made your cheeks warm. Your fingers twisted together in your lap as you tried to focus on anything other than how ridiculously self-conscious you suddenly felt.

"That makes sense. I figured you'd know."

Instead of lingering in the doorway or leaving like you assumed he would, Spencer, casually grabbed the chair across from your desk. He spun it around in one fluid motion and sat it backwards, draping his arms on the backrest with an ease that felt strangely familiar—like you had been friends or colleagues for years instead of just a few months.

"I'll reach out to them about fixing the timeline," you said, your hand instinctively moving a stray strand of hair behind your ear. You clasped your hands together to still them, offering a small, nervous smile. "It shouldn't be too hard to correct."

"Thanks," he said. "That'll probably save from giving another long-winded lecture on factual reporting."

You gave a quiet laugh, grateful for the distraction from your tasks, though you weren’t entirely sure how you felt about the company. Not that you didn’t enjoy his company—there was plenty to enjoy, more than you cared to admit. If you could manage to function like a normal human being around him, you might even look forward to moments like this.

But then he tilted his head slightly, his eyes studying you as if he were unraveling some kind of puzzle and for one terrifying second, you were convinced he could hear every single thought racing through your mind.

"So," he began, "how are you liking it here so far? The job, I mean. Is it what you expected?"

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in conversation. "Oh, um... yeah. It's been great so far. Busy, but... I like it."

"That's good," he said, nodding. "I know it’s not exactly the most predictable job. Some people don't expect it to be so... chaotic."

"Well," you said, fidgeting slightly with your pen. "I knew what I was signing up for. Or, at least I thought I did. It's a lot, but it's rewarding."

"That's a good attitude to have," he said, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Honestly, you're doing a great job. I don't know how you manage to keep everything straight."

Your heart leaped, thudding in your chest as warmth flooded your face. You weren’t used to hearing compliments, especially from someone like him. You wanted to savor the moment, to bottle up the way his words made you feel, but your nerves refused to let you fully enjoy it.

"I'm just, um, organized I guess,” you stammered, your hand flying up to rub at the back of your neck.

"More than just organized," he replied easily, completely unaware of how his words were affecting you. "You've got half the team wrapped around your finger already. Even Rossi listen when you talk. That's impressive."

Your face burned. "I think that's more about respect for the job than me."

Spencer shrugged lightly, as he was watching you, like he didn't quite believe you. "Maybe. Or maybe you're just better at this than you give yourself credit for."

You let out a nervous chuckle, fingers twitching as you fiddled with the corner of the paper in front of you.

"I don't... I don't know about that."

He tilted his head, again, his brow quirking. "Do you know how to take a compliment?"

"Of course I do." You were sure your voice lacked the conviction needed.

He smirked, leaning forward over the chair. "Doesn't seem like it."

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words stuck in your throat, tangled in the frantic web that was your thoughts around this infuriating man.

"Well, uh, you’ve only done it twice, so I don’t think that’s enough for you to judge."

His grin widened. "Oh? So you’re saying I should try again? For research purposes?"

Your eyes widened, and you blinked rapidly as if to process his words, your hands shooting up as if to physically block the implication. "I—uh—no, that's not what I meant.”

"No, no," he said, sitting up straighter and waiving off your flustered attempt to deflect. "I aim to please. If more compliments are what you’re after, I’ve got plenty.”

"Please, no."

"You're incredibly efficient. Seriously, I think you've managed to anticipate what the team needs before we even know we need it. And your ability to keep your cool under pressure? That's impressive. I mean, do you even get stressed? Because if you do, you hide it really well."

"Dr. Reid—," you squeaked, covering your face with your hands as if that could somehow shield you from the onslaught of praise.

"And," he continued, clearly now enjoying himself. "You're probably the most patient person, I've ever met. Which is something, considering you work with people who constantly interrupt and derail your perfectly planned press briefings."

Your stomach flipped, and you felt a flush of heat that had nothing to do with embarrassment pooling in your chest. As much as you wanted to sink to the floor, the way he looked at you sent every nerve in your body spiraling. Each word felt like it was tailored to you, peeling back the very thin veneer of control you’d desperately tried to maintain over the massive crush you found yourself drowning in.

Your head dropped to the desk with a soft thunk, muffling your groan. "Okay, okay, I get it."

He leaned forward just slightly, resting his chin on his arms atop the chair. "Now what do you say?"

"Thank you."

He smirked widened. "See? That wasn't so hard was it?"

Your cheeks burned even hotter, and you averted your eyes, trying to hide the nervous smile tugging at your lips. "You didn't have to go on and on..."

"Oh, but I did." He was still grinning. "You deserved it."

You risked a glance back at him, losing your cool by the second. That only made your face heat up more. "You're impossible."

"And yet, you haven't kicked me out of your office."

"That's only because I didn’t think it would work."

"Well," he said, turning towards the door. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you didn't mind the compliments."

You opened your mouth to protest but no words came out. Instead, you watched helplessly as he shot you one last smile before disappearing into the hallway.

When the door finally clicked shut behind him, you let out a shaky breath and drop your head back onto the desk.

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[sirxlla]

You Have a No Kill Rule and They Dont / Vice Versa.

(Request @nesting-dreams)

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

Dick: "You know I really wish you wouldn't kill, it goes against everything I have ever agreed with." He had stated this over and over again and you had stated your side. This conversation always went in circles every single time until one or both of you gave up.

"Don't you understand it's wrong to kill?" He pressed relentlessly.

"Don't you understand that it never stopped anyone else in Gotham? Doing this would make sure that those out there can't harm or the innocent people of Gotham. Criminals won't stop killing just because of the fact that you don't want to do it. Meet then were there at, at least then they fear for their life, not a broken nose." You spit words at him like venom. The two of you parted the same way you did every single time with both of you being pissed off at one another.

By the time that bed came you two would crawl up into bed together with no issue like you didnt fight with him at all.

Jason: Before you knew everything about Jason and Gotham as a whole, you would have had these long conversations about exactly why it's wrong to kill people and everything along those lines. Those fights usually ended in screaming matches and someone if not both of you pissed off for several days. You had begged him over and over to just try it your way and for the most part he tried, at least it seemed like it from an outside perspective. If he killed he didn't do it in front of you.

He understood entirely that once you end someone's life or see it done you don't always sleep the best and that's why he never did it in front of you.

Now that he had let you in and you'd learned everything about Gotham, saw how horrible and rotten it was your opinion changed. You saw just exactly the type of people that deserved death and exactly what was the source for Jason's bloodlust.

Bruce: "Bruce, don't even start with that bullshit because if it was Alfred that would have killed them you would have had no issue with it and I know your track record with women and 99% of them kill people so I don't want to hear it because you're being hypocritical. I have no choice and if I didn't do it I would be dead now."

His face turned to stone that's definitely not something he wanted to hear. He often had a bad time being hypocritical and not understanding the entirety of what exactly was life and death considering he forgot you weren't him and you weren't some sort of badass that could take on whoever the fuck you needed to.

Even though the man was small that you had to end, he had a gun to your head and you had no choice but to shoot him through your bag.

Tim: He never wanted to fight about it but it was something that you definitely didn't agree upon. Tim was always kind and soft spoken when he tried to tell you not to do it. Tim was probably the most understanding on why you had such a similar view to Jason and Damian.

Tim had high hopes that there was always a redemption for a criminal. He had more hope than his father that maybe a criminal could change their ways. He saw cases like Harley Quinn and Azrael whom had turned corners and he hoped they's set examples for others.

Tim was always an optimist, he was so soft spoken about it. It was because of that that you eventually came out around to his ways, if he were so adamant and pushy about it you would have stuck to your guns but now you saw the kinder brighter side and how good some of these people could be if given the right opportunities.

Damian: It's something that always left a bad taste in your mouth, how Damian did it so easily without losing a hair of sleep but you knew how he was. He definitely tried to be less prideful in his kills while you were around cause its just something that you hated. In your mind a body's lifeforce was sacred, this is why you wouldnt even remotely begin to hold Damian's sword even if he asked you to hand it to him.

"It's such a sword." He would say as if the blade wasnt essentially stained with the blood of what felt like thousands. Even though it was something that puts such a bad taste in your mouth you were never going to tell him not to do it. It was just the way he was raised but you also didnt bother because the blood was on his hands, not yours.

The only thing that you had asked him to do in regards to that sword? To not bring it into the bedroom where the both of you slept because somehow in someway everytime he did, you had the worst nightmares and sleep paralysis.

(Send me some prompts if you'd like)

Masterlist

[painted-flag]

A VICTOR, part two - Commodus

𓃮 emperor commodus x fem!reader 𓃭 masterlist. part one | part two | part three (final) 𓃮 warnings: small scene of violence towards reader (not by commodus) 𓃭 As a longtime and loyal servant working in the underbelly of the palace, your emergence into the light catches the attention of the emperor.

Days turned into a week, and then another, and another – blending everything. It had been almost a month since your invitation to Commodus’ chambers. The morning after you had feared the inevitable. Like all the other women he sent away, you would go too. However, such was not the case. Not only had you remained at the palace, but it had now become a nightly routine. 

After cleaning the kitchen at the end of the day, you would hastily make your way to his chambers. There, he would have you eat; knowing that you had little during your day of work. In the beginning, he would speak to you about random topics all in what you concluded was an effort to distract himself. Over time, he would begin to speak about his duties and frustrations regarding the senate. You understood that all he wanted was someone to listen.

All that was required of you was to offer words of comfort. You learned quickly that if you were to even slightly defend the senate and any of the senator's words, he would grow cold and become shut off for the rest of the evening; yet still did not wish for you to leave.

You still had no idea of his intentions, but had decided that for now, you were safe. At least, as safe as you could be – given Commodus’ well-known tendency to lash out. You had not been on the receiving end, nor would you ever try and bring it on. You were not stupid. The day after you told Commodus the identity of the servant that hurt your arm, that servant was never seen again. Simply, you provided him company which appeared to please and soothe him. 

Unfortunately, your duties had begun to slip. He had started to demand attention outside of the times of dusk until dawn. He wanted more attention and more of your focus. A natural consequence was rushing to finish your work. Scrubbing would be abandoned, some dishes would not be cleaned, and candles in other chambers would not be lit. If the other servants noticed it, they did not vocalize it. 

At first, some of the women wanted information regarding your first night with the emperor. They poked and prodded for any ounce of knowledge, but you remained steadfast in guarding the emperor’s secret. They all drew their own conclusions that you had slept with him, which was far from the truth, but a surprising event was the fact that you were not shunned and cast aside. Instead of a single night, they watched you go back every night since; now watching the emperor himself seek you out during the day. Whispers carried, but none wanted to be caught gossiping about the emperor. Should they choose to, their life could be forfeit. 

And so, your life carried on as though this was normal – as though this has been routine for years. 

You had been in one of the many spare rooms, wiping up some dust that had accumulated on a ledge with a small cloth when the door to the side opened. Before you could turn around, you felt arms come and wrap around your stomach. The sudden touch almost made you drop the cloth. The familiar scent of parchment and burning wood entered your senses and you immediately knew it was Commodus. 

He buried his head into your exposed neck and let out a long sigh. You felt his muscles relax as he leaned closer to you. By the sound of his sigh, he was in one of his irritated moods; often brought on by a difficult time with his duties. You made a move to turn around, but his grip got tighter and his lips brushed over the juncture between your neck and shoulder causing you to freeze. He had, in passing a few times, gently kissed your shoulders or cheek, but never had he been so bold in his movements. 

“Is everything all right, Caesar?” You questioned. 

Commodus shook his head against you and murmured, “What have we talked about?” 

“Of course,” You responded, “Is everything alright, Commodus?” Still, even a month in, it was sometimes difficult to address him by his name. However, his insistence was what brought you to heel. 

“No,” He breathed out on your skin, the action sending warmth from the area straight to your stomach, “They undermine me again.” 

“It is likely because they feel inferior to you,” One time, you had tried to defend the senators, but that only worsened his mood. You had learned the words that pleased him the most and gradually began to believe them as fact; an inner displeasure towards the senators you had never even met started to take root. 

“I don’t wish to speak of it,” Very slowly, he began to place featherlight kisses on your neck with one of his hands reaching up to gently pull back the fabric on your shoulder to give him more access, “What are you up to?” 

He often wished to hear you speak of monotonous things, letting himself sink into your presence and voice. It calmed him and in a sense, it calmed you as well. 

“I am only cleaning,” You began to speak, but found it difficult to focus on thinking when his hand that was wrapped around your stomach began to move in massaging patterns and his lips continued to assail your neck and only got more intense. 

“Cleaning?” Commodus spoke between his kisses. His voice was disconnected, entirely focused on his current task, “Sounds interesting,” He joked as he nipped at your skin. The action caused you to drop the cloth in your hand and let out a gasp. 

Commodus lifted his head and looked at the ground where the cloth fell, “Ah, it appears you have finished and are no longer busy,” Despite not seeing his face, you could tell there was a faint smile on his lips. He quickly spun you around in his arms, letting out a laugh at your dishevelled state. Red had made its way from your face to your upper chest, a sight that always amused him. 

“Commodus,” You scolded. 

His gaze darkened and his grip on your waist tightened, “Say it again.” You paused for a moment, wondering if that had angered him, but found no trace of annoyance on his face. However, the heavy look he had in his eye was like a man starved. It caught you off guard. 

“Commodus,” You whispered. That seemed to please him and he pulled you flush against his chest and began to kiss your jaw. His lips trailed down your jaw and towards your chin before moving up to capture your lips in a searing kiss. It was greedy and raw, but stirred unknown feelings in the pit of your stomach; a frantic flutter that would not go away. He had only ever given you gentle pecks on the cheek or shoulder, this was entirely new and you wondered what brought on such a craving. 

He pushed you backwards until your back hit one of the pillars. The marble was cold, shocking you for a moment due to the contrast of the heat of Commodus’ body. Yet, there was something about this that felt good; felt oddly right despite its unholy nature. He continued to kiss you, a mix of hunger and impatience wrapped in heated excitement. It made your knees feel weak and had your mind go fuzzy until all it could focus on was him. 

A small moan clawed its way from your throat that quickly made a groan fall from his lips. Commodus pulled away abruptly and looked at you through heavy-lidded eyes. You recognized the look of calculation on his face. It was the same one he got when he came to moments of clarity; the slight widening of his eyes, the lines between his eyebrows crease, and his lips twitch almost imperceptibly. He had thought of something in that moment and it appeared to shake him.

As if burned, Commodus pulled away. The contrast between his now reserved nature to his openness just seconds before nearly whipped your head into a frenzy. He looked almost… unsure. 

“There are duties I must tend to.” He cut your meeting off short, giving a curt nod and speeding out of the room. His clothing billowed as he moved and you could do nothing but stand there and watch his back as he left. 

As he fled from your presence, disappointment flooded your body and you could not help but wonder what it was in that moment that shocked him so greatly.

You had been making your way to your room to finish weaving a carpet for one of the guest rooms when your master, Attius, turned down onto the corridor you were in. Upon spotting you, he lifted his hand to command you to stop. Instantly, your body ceased its movements, eyes flickering like the torches that lined the space. You waited as Attius got closer and held your mouth shut; he hated when spoken to first. 

He stopped short just in front of you, “You have been neglectful in your duties.” It was not a question to wonder what was happening, but a statement. He did not care about any excuse, but you tried to plead your case anyway. 

“The Caesar has been wishing for more of my attention-” He cut you off. 

“So it’s the emperor’s fault that you have failed your work?” Attius crossed his arms and stood closer to you, towering over your figure. 

“N-no, master, that is not what I meant-”

“Then why do you bring it up?” His tone came across as condescending and rhetorical. You sucked in a breath at his growing aggressive posture and chose to submit, lest you incur his wrath. 

“I will try and do better, master.” You bowed your head in submission. 

“You will not try, you will do better.” He used his forefinger to lift your chin so you could look right at him and he lowered his voice, “It would be a displeasure to hurt such a pretty face.” He quickly retracted his hand and continued down the corridor, casually as if the threat was a regular occurrence. It was, but you had largely managed to dodge it for most of your life. Unfortunately, it appears patience for you has worn thin. You gulped some air into your mouth, just noticing that you had held your breath through his threat. 

It was not until he turned down at the end of the hallway and left your sight that you felt you could move. It was as if released from a spell. You shook off the fear and moved in the opposite direction to your room. It was only a few doors down. 

Entering the room, your eyes saw a small space. It was all stone and had some open-air windows at the upper parts of the wall, as the rest was underground, that cast some golden light from the sun into the space. In the corner was a woven mat that you slept on. Thankfully, despite your status as a slave, you and your mother were able to keep some items when going into servitude – a privilege not afforded to most. Because of that, there were pillows and animal skins that lined the space, making the floor mat more comfortable to sleep on. 

It was where you sat down to continue the final details of finishing up the carpet you had been working on for one of the guest apartments. Time passed in a way that was unknown to you. The light got brighter, signalling that the sun was setting and the angle hit just the right spot to come flooding into your room. It was fairly warm, given that the cool ground normally fended most of the heat off. 

You were lost in your work, singing to yourself gently as you were trying off some pieces of fabric when your door opened. Looking up, you saw Commodus standing there. He had never come down to the lower levels of the palace before. His eyes scanned your room, taking note of what little possessions you were granted. 

“Commodus,” You spoke and got his attention. Seeing the tired look on his face, you became sympathetic, “What has happened?” What you really wanted to ask was what happened when he left you so abruptly earlier that day, but knew it was an answer you would have to wait for. 

“Damn the senate,” He mumbled as he closed your door and made his way to where you sat. You scooted over to make room and he settled amongst the pillows and animal furs behind you. Commodus placed his chin on your shoulder, looking over and down at the work you were doing. His arms wrapped around you and pulled your back to be flush against his chest while his legs lay bent at the knees on either side of you. 

Being cocooned in his warmth was something you had begun to get used to and dreaded the day it would go away. That negative voice in your head always reminded you that soon he will get tired of this, of you. 

Commodus looked at the various details on the carpet, spotting a small image, “A tiger?” 

“Yes,” You affirmed and ran your hand along the woven design, “I like tigers.” He moved his chin from your shoulder and replaced it with his mouth, his nose peeking over. He inhaled deeply and sighed. 

“Have you ever seen my tigers in the games?” He asked. You could feel his lips moving against your shoulder as he spoke.

“Once. I’m always too busy with my duties that I never have much spare time.” Your fingers tied off two pieces of fabric and moved on to the next bit of work. Commodus focused his attention on you, his hand brushing away your hair behind your ear and down your back, exposing your neck. 

He rested his head back on your shoulder and watched as you skillfully continued your work. Minutes passed in silence and you decided to hum a tune knowing it would make him happy. His fingers traced patterns on your stomach and you tried with all your might not to focus on it or you would melt into his arms. You had to finish this piece soon or Attius may use it as an excuse to reign down on you with anger. 

In the haze of relaxation, Commodus spoke gently, “Do you ever think about doing other things with your life?” 

His question came out of nowhere and left you wondering about his true intentions to ask such a thing. It was not something you ever thought about, nor cared to think about. This was your life, always and forever. There was no freedom given to a servant and such wishful thinking would only worsen your state. 

“I am good at what I do and I am honoured to serve the empire.” You responded. Yet, your answer did not seem to fully please him and he sighed. 

“What if there were other ways you could serve?” You did not understand Commodus’ mode of thinking, nor would you ever begin to try. In the time spent together, you learned he can often be unpredictable. 

“There is no other way I would wish to serve.” You reasoned. He hummed at that answer and brushed your shoulder before leaving a quick kiss over the fabric. His hand reached out to grip your chin gently, his thumb brushing over the skin in calm movements. Commodus looked you in the eyes. 

“Whatever you wish. Whatever you desire. State it.” You caught on to his unspoken words. Commodus wished for you to confess something you were not entirely sure of; confess you felt for him beyond a silly companionship. There were two paths set out for you. 

The first path was to deny. Deny that you have feelings for him and continue these little trysts. Hope that they continue for as long as they can and pray for mercy should he get bored of you. If you were lucky, you would end up like the previous women who shared a night with him and lose your position at the palace and be moved somewhere else – to some other rich person’s dwellings. It would not be so bad at the end of it all and you would have shared something special with someone; a moment of shared camaraderie on a level you never expected to have in your life. 

The second path was the one you wished to run down. You could say it there. Confess that your heart beats faster when he walks into a room. That now your favourite time of the day was visiting him in his chambers, talking, and falling asleep in one another’s arms. You wanted to say that each time he kissed you, it was like you were tasting Elysium. There was nothing else you wished to spend your days than in his arms. 

But that second path was even more unpredictable and greater than that; nothing but a stupid fantasy. 

Your place was as a servant, a slave. You were worth less than a single buckle on his clothing. 

That was why you gave him a soft smile to pretend everything was okay and recite words that felt like a stab in your heart, “I am content with my life. I would wish for nothing to change.” 

His face remained neutral, not giving away the same feeling you were experiencing: the sheer weight of his heart being crushed. He nodded and looked back at the carpet on the floor. His chin balanced on your shoulder and he appeared done with this conversation. 

You immediately wanted to take back your words. You wanted to scream out an answer, shout out the feelings that had been brewing in your body since he first summoned you into his room. You cared for him, you yearned for him. In some insane, unpredictable way, you believed you were beginning to love him. 

However it was futile, it was all too unlikely to end up well. 

And so you worked in silence with nothing but the steady rise and fall of his chest against your back and the rhythmic movements of your hands as they crafted; wishing, hoping, dreaming it could all be different.

The day had ended quickly with the beautiful soft glow of a setting sun. That evening you had dived into your work in the kitchens, cooking and forgetting about your troubles. For a brief time, it worked. However, every little thing began to remind you of him. The food that would be served to him, the colour of the olives not even coming close to the vibrancy of his eyes, even the taste of figs did not come close to the sweetness of his lips. Upon that realization, you had the urge to throw the bowl of figs at a wall but resisted. 

Commodus was so frustratingly consuming. He had made a home in you, wedged his way into the crevices of your skin and stuck to your bones until it was him that made your body move; made your body get up in the morning and decide to continue. 

That damned man. Why did he ever invite you into his room in the first place? 

The kitchen had long cleared out and you were now calm and eager to finish the last of the cleanup. You moved around the space on nothing but muscle memory, totally focused on the tasks that needed to be done. You were so focused, that you failed to see Attius lingering in the doorway, observing your movements. 

A few pots you were balancing fell to the ground and you moved to pick them up. Your knees hit the ground and you began to stack them. Sandaled feet moved into your vision and you halted your movements. Gradually, your vision moved upwards from your crouched position and you saw Attius staring down at you. His face was set into a scowl and his eyes were full of scrutiny. 

“You have failed me,” His voice broke you from your shock. You made a move to get up, but he held his hand out as a command for you to stay down, “You said you would get better, but your work has slacked more. That makes me angry… and you know what happens to those that make me angry.” 

“I’m sorry, master, truly. I-”

“I wish not to hear your excuses. How do you think such actions should be punished, hm?” Attius leaned back on one foot and tilted his head. 

The thought of begging made you want to hurl. You would sooner wish to spit at his feet than plead for mercy, but there was no other way for you to get out of this. Your head hung low, bowed towards him.

“Master, I humbly ask for mercy for my transgressions,” You put on the kindest tone you could, voice dripping in false sincerity. 

He bent over and gripped your chin to look up at him. He slowly made you rise to your feet, giving you a soft expression – a stark contrast to his personality just seconds ago. Once you had stood up, he still kept your chin in his hand. 

“You have always been such a good worker, just like your mother.” His words reassured you, if only for a moment, “Which is why this will hurt me just as much as it hurts you, but nothing must go unpunished.” 

The momentary ounce of relief you had washed away immediately. Before you could respond, a sharp stinging sensation hit your cheek and almost knocked you over. You hunched slightly and raised a hand to cover your cheek and recognized that he had hit you. 

You tried to back up and get away, but his hand reached out and gripped your tunic. He pulled you close to his face and whispered with unconcealed anger, “You will learn to obey.”

Each light dab against your cheekbone felt like needles piercing skin. You had endured Attius’ rage and had now spent the last hour in a small room where the slave healer lived. Cassius was an aging and withered man, unable to participate in heavy labour and had since taken it upon himself to aid the other servants when they became injured. He was kind and attentive to everyone and you remembered him healing your mother many times as a girl. 

After Attius had beaten you, you managed to crawl on your hands and knees down the hall and towards Cassius’ room. He immediately took you in and began assessing the damage. A large bruise had begun to form on your face that spanned from your cheekbone to the top of your temple on your right side. Your arms and legs were littered with other matching bruises, but what hurt most of all was your stomach which had been kicked multiple times. 

All of your wounds had been treated, save for a split lip and the bruise on your face which was now being assessed. 

“Some of the bruises should only take two weeks to heal, as they are not too terrible. The one on your stomach will likely take longer.” Cassius informed you as he pulled away from cleaning your face and put his blood-stained rag down. 

You let out a sigh, brain overwhelmed with information. Yet, all you could think about was Commodus and what he would think. You were already worried that any day he could grow bored and send you away – this would only solidify it. If you were covered in bruises, why would he ever find you attractive enough to keep? He would become tired of you before you could heal. 

Deep down, you wanted to think it would be different, but insecurities had always held a vice-like grip on your heart.  

“He can’t know,” You whispered to yourself.

“Who can’t know?” Cassius questioned. 

You rested your hands on your knees, “The emperor. He cannot know or he will send me away.” For a moment, you two were silent with nothing but a single flickering torch lighting the room. You knew you needed to bide time to heal. If there was a good enough explanation, a proper excuse, you could heal and pretend nothing had happened. 

That night, you were supposed to visit Commodus like every night prior. Except you could not this time and needed to figure out a plan. 

“Say that I am sick,” You got Cassius’ attention, “Inform him that I am ill and can not be visited by anyone out of risk of spread.” 

“You are asking me to lie to the emperor,” He confirmed. The way he framed it like that had you understanding the severity of it all. You were asking him to risk possibly his own life to cover up your injuries. 

“I’m sorry, Cassius. I should have never suggested it.” You let out a low sigh and stared off into the corner of the small room. You needed to come up with another plan quickly before Commodus began to wonder where you were. 

“I will do it,” He broke the silence, “I only hope you know what you are doing.” 

You wanted to leap out of your chair and hug him but restrained yourself. It would only make your body hurt more. You nodded in thanks to him. The pain had begun to set in as the adrenaline wore off and you found it difficult to move without causing enough pain to nearly immobilize your body. 

“Stay here for a while and rest. I will go and inform him of your absence.” Cassius opened his door and closed it gently, leaving you to sit with your thoughts. 

Your life, in only a few short weeks, had changed drastically from the regular routine you had come to love. The world you had grown up in was blending with a world you never should have touched in the first place. Yet you could not imagine it any other way, nor wanted to forget the memories you had made. 

Deeply, you wanted to think that your time with Commodus was more than temporary, but the lingering thoughts in your brain forced you to look at it negatively. With your feigned sickness, you could perhaps hope he forgets about you and does not have you sent away. Already you could barely handle severing your life from his – it hurt your heart more than the bruises on your body. Perhaps, if he forgot about you, you could still remain in the palace and not lose everything you had ever known. 

You leaned back in the chair and stared into the open flame of the torch, seemingly wishing that the fire could consume you whole. It would not hurt as nearly as the cracks deepening in your heart.

taglist: @scrumptiousloser

[inquisimer]

Arlow and Viago “can you hear my cry, an old lullaby drifting through the sky?” >:]

HELLO MY LOVE I am kissing you on the lips, I put that one on the list and was like "this is an arlow & viago prompt", thank you for reading my mind

Arlow de Riva & Viago | 808 words | for @dadrunkwriting - da4 spoilers, Viago ruminates (regrets?) Arlow's absence from Antiva

-

Viago missed Salle.

Not that the accommodations in Treviso were lacking—his apartments here were more than sufficient. But they were suffocating without Arlow there to fill the empty spaces where she usually was. He wished things were such that he could lock the door and flee to his villa in Salle.

But the Antaam remained. And he had no right to be missing Arlow, when he was the one who sent her away.

As she deserved, he reminded himself. If she had simply thought before launching herself at those Antaam, they would never have been in this situation. Yet, the ache in his throat remained.

Treviso’s skyline was bathed in the pink and orange hues of sunset. From the balcony, it was easy to imagine that the city was still theirs, and that Arlow would be tripping off a zip line any moment, reporting in on this contract or that surveillance. Smirking and insufferable, but alive and there.

“You’re brooding again.”

A Qunari war horn blasted Viago’s reminiscence to pieces. His fingers tightened on the railing. “I’m always brooding. You like it.”

Teia’s bare feet padded softly against the slats and Viago wrinkled his nose. Off the top of his head, there were half a dozen poisons easily concealed in wood stain and best absorbed through the skin. But she didn’t care about that—or, at least, she knew that he had the antidote for any toxin that could touch her only a whisper away.

“it is not half so attractive when you are truly troubled,” she murmured, propping herself as close to his side as she could without touching him. Her hair fell loose and unruly over the collar of his shirt. But even that only just hitched the melancholy tune of his thoughts. “You miss her.”

Viago huffed. “She is the most competent assassin in my House and we are under an occupation. It is like being without my best blades.”

“Do not pretend she is nothing more than a weapon to you,” Teia chided. “Lie to yourself, if you must, but do not lie to me.”

Viago’s nostrils flared, as they always did when Teia saw straight though him. He was learning to trust the tightrope she asked him to walk, but after a lifetime without a net, it was a hesitant process. Luckily for him, she had a penchant for hard cases.

“I have never sent her off for so long, nor so harshly,” he admitted. “And I do not know when she will return. It is… difficult.”

“You could know,” Teia suggested. “You could summon her back.”

“She has a contract.”

“And how will she know if she’s allowed to report in on it if you do not tell her that Antiva is open to her again?”

“You read my letter?” Viago raised a brow, but Teia’s smirk was unabashed. She shrugged and his gaze followed the fluid motion of her exposed collarbone.

“I wouldn’t have recommended leading with ‘idiot’, but she’s probably used to it.”

“If she wasn’t such an idiot all the time, she wouldn’t be,” Viago muttered. He looked down into the murky canal below and frowned. “She did not write back.”

Teia laughed, which only deepened his scowl. “Did you expect her to?”

“If the job was done, yes,” he snipped. “But it has been months.”

“And you sent her on an open-ended contract. I’m sure if anything drastic happened, Varric would write. That is why you hooked her up with him, no?”

Viago pursed his lips. “He has a track record of pulling asses out of fires. But I am not confident in his definition of drastic.”

“He is perfectly competent, as you well know. You’ve never let your conscience get in the way of logic before, don’t start now.” Teia laid her hand out, palm up on the railing. After a beat, Viago laced his gloved fingers with hers and she squeezed.

“If you want her back, Vi, you will have to face the other Talons and tell them so. Tell her so, in no uncertain terms. This is the corner you have painted yourself into.”

Viago glowered at the neighboring building. He hated few things as much as he hated Teia being right in a way that grated on his nerves. She could have at least done him the courtesy of acknowledging that he was not the only party at fault in this scenario.

“She will tell me when the job is done,” he said stubbornly. “When the job is done, and her lesson is learned, then we will bring her home.”

Teia sighed and shook her head. The sun slipped below the horizon and a familiar cloak of darkness covered them both. Covered Arlow, too, in the east. In Tevinter.

His throat tightened. Use it well, he thought. Use it well, and come home.

[reginyani]

College Lecture | s.reid x reader

summary: the behavioral analysis unit are guest speakers for your college class, but one particular agent catches your eye

cw: season4!spencer, reader is flirtatious, year of 2009, possibly use of inaccurate technology for the year, college reader, usage of Y/N

wc: 864

authors note: the only way to promote fics on tumblr is to reblog, so please do so if you enjoyed! once again very short, but once again i'm very tired..

It was a cold winter morning, with snow falling on the college campus when Professor Coleman made a surprise announcement. The Behavior Analysis Unit was going to visit the class that day. It would be a special lecture, with an example case that the students could interact with. You never expected to be in the same room with the highest unit in the FBI, let alone receive a lecture from them. With your interest in serial killers and forensic psychology, this lecture was a dream come true.

The hall buzzed with anticipation, and all the students were eager to finally have interesting guest speakers. As the lecture began, the team of agents introduced themselves. The unit chief, SSA Aaron Hotchner, Emily Prentiss, Derek Morgan, Jennifer Jareau, David Rossi, Penelope Garcia, and Dr. Spencer Reid...

You were drawn to him. The way he spoke was shy and awkward, but his intelligence more than made up for it. Every time words left his mouth, you were captivated, almost as if he was hypnotizing you. Although the attractive agent was a distraction, you tried focusing on taking notes and listening to everyone speak.

You had many questions about the subjects and the example case, but you sat back and listened, observing the dynamics of the special guests. No matter how hard you tried to focus on the lesson, your mind and eyes kept wandering back to Spencer Reid.

The class ended in a blur. Everyone crowded around, hoping to catch a moment with the highly skilled profilers, which they did, but you stayed seated. When the students finally cleared out, you stood up, your plan now set in motion.

As Spencer tried to follow his team out the door, you stopped him. "Dr. Reid," you called, your voice light but loud enough for him to hear from a distance.

He quickly stopped walking and turned around, offering an awkward smile. He cleared his throat before speaking. "Yes?"

"I was hoping to get a moment with you. My names Y/N, and I have some follow-up questions about the lecture. May I?" You tilted your head slightly as you asked for his time, smiling. His cheeks flushed a little in nervousness, and his body stiffened slightly.

He opened his mouth, taking a moment to respond. "Yeah—of course," he said, still a bit caught off guard. His voice was barely above a whisper, as if he were scared to say the wrong thing.

You both moved aside, and you began asking your questions. You started off with some technical questions about profiling, making sure to keep things professional. He answered with his usual ease, but you could tell he was focused on you more than anything else. His eyes occasionally dropped to the ground, and his lips still wore that awkward, yet charming, smile.

"Doesn't your job take a psychological toll on you or your team? I mean, how do you deal with being around all that... darkness?" The question was sincere, and it seemed to catch him off guard. He furrowed his brows, studying you for a while before responding.

"Well, you're not wrong. It does, sometimes. But with a team, it’s a bit easier to handle. We sort of all look after each other. But honestly, books help me more than they do," he joked, chuckling a little. "I also like to play chess sometimes. It helps me relax and think."

You nodded, taking in his words. This was your opportunity. "Chess, huh? I've always wanted to learn how to play. Maybe you could teach me sometime?"

His eyes met yours, and for a moment, you saw the hesitation. "I... uh... sure, yeah, I could teach you. I can't say I'm totally pro though."

You smiled, knowing your plan had worked. "Maybe we can exchange numbers? That way, we could set up a time to meet," you paused for a moment, taking out your phone and smirking. "and practice."

Spencer's mouth hung open, unsure whether to accept the offer. He blinked rapidly as he thought, noticing the shift in your energy. "Okay. Yeah, that... that sounds good. You can... put your number in here." He handed you his phone, and you type in your number and quickly save it.

"Thanks! Text me so we can set up a time," you said as you started walking away. "Bye, Dr. Reid."

You exited the room, and a few seconds later, Spencer did as well. He was then met by Emily and Derek, who raised their eyebrows at him. "Mind if you teach me some lessons?" Derek teased, and Emily laughed.

"Shut up!" was all Spencer could say as the team started walking out of the building together.

Later that night, Spencer sat on his bed, contemplating whether to text you. It’s not very professional, he thought. But his fingers didn’t follow that approach. He typed in your name and quickly wrote a message.

"Hey Y/N, what time would you be available for us to meet?"

He quickly sent the message, putting his phone away completely waiting for the vibration that you had responded. He didn't have to wait long though, as he felt one almost exactly a minute later.

"I'm free this Saturday, you?"

tags:

[planetaryaether]

I swear I have the capacity to be normal about things. with that being said I have many thoughtsTM about today's JF2 episode (#29).

Duncan volunteering to send his black lotus to Rythian as well is something that can be so personal. To over analyze it, although he says it is in case "the first one gets lost" they have no reason to think that items wouldn't get to their destined locations, so the choice reads much more as a gesture of friendship. After the events of Flux Buddies (no spoilers) Duncan has had to learn to face the consequences of his own actions in a way that he simply had not during Blackrock - which at the end of the day was the thing that drove a wedge between him and Rythian.

By not being able to accept that his actions led to genuine harm (intended or not) to those he called his friends signaled to Rythian that he cannot trust others/especially Duncan again. This perceived threat of future betrayal combined with Rythian thinking that Zoey had joined forces with Duncan and the nuke reveal all served to retraumatize Rythian, placing a wedge in their relationship that has not been able to be addressed due to the end of Season 2 and Rythian deciding to give up on any relationship (friend or enemy) with Duncan ('the opposite of love is not hatred, it is indifference' etc etc).

So Rythian choosing to send this task to the JF2 crew, almost certainly knowing that Duncan is among them, shows that Rythian has been able to grow since we have last seen him. He has been able to finally process, at least to a degree, what he has been through and perhaps is able to understand why Duncan acted the way that he did - that he never meant to cause harm but was terrified for his own safety both in the old and tekket worlds.

Duncan being the one, in episode 28, to want to listen to the message (as well as including the purple flag 'for Rythian') shows how much he has also changed. That he also understands, at least to a degree, where Rythian was coming from and why he did what he did AND that he doesn't hold that against him. All of this happening independently from each other until now. Rythian made the first move at reconciliation with entrusting Duncan (and the others of course) with a task that was important to him (but at the same time it is a task with a low level of responsibility so that if Duncan did not want to accept this peace offering of sorts, no harm would come to Rythian/Zoey). And Duncan, by sending his black lotus after barry has already sent one, is a clear acceptance of that gesture. More than that, it is returning a peace offering of his own. (and to REALLY over analyze, sending flowers is a sign of an apology with black/dark lotus flowers in multiple cultures representing rebirth).

Even if we never get anything else Blackrock related (which I am of course not counting on getting anything more), this serves as a wonderful epilogue to their dynamic, especially with some of the main themes of Blackrock being about the cycle of violence and the question of 'can you heal from your traumas before they destroy what you care about most?' (mostly focusing on platonic/romantic relationships) with the answer being that 'your actions will change the relationship from what it otherwise would have been, but if and only if both parties want to heal the relationship and put in the necessary time and effort to do so, then the relationship can survive'. And here we are getting a sign that both of them are willing to do something to salvage their friendship. It will never be what it was in the Old World, but the friendship is not gone, it just has a new starting point.

[luciferanalyzestar]

Viv definitely not planned out things because she has habit of arbitrarily change plots and characters because of one thing that she gets interested in (Vaggie being an angel? That was just a popular fan theory about her which Viv made canon, Vaggie was originally intended to be a sinner who was a prostitute that died in 2014, Did you know that Cherri Bomb is australian just because Viv listened to australian music? Or how Nifty is made to be japanese just because her pilot va can speak japanese fluently? Or how stolas x blitzo came to be just because she saw a piece of fanart where young stolas and blitzo meet each other)

Vaggie being a prostitute would be better if Viv did not create her. Naming a sex worker after genitals is misogynistic. End of story!

Her backstory is similar to the hundreds of cases of serial killers targeting sex workers because they knew the sex work is stigmatized and no one will notice that they went missing. There have been times where a woman survived her attempted murder, but no one believed her due to her status of being a sex worker.

Vaggie's name not being changed is also childish on Viv's part. She is the only Sapphic character in Hazbin and that is her name?? Just learned that Vaggie is not a WLW/Lesbian, she labeled as 'Queer' on her fandom wiki page, I don't know how to feel about this info.

Viv will never beat the misogynist allegations.

Back to the show, Vaggie being an angel makes Charlie and Vaggie's relationship to similar to Lucifer and Lilith's. I think Charlie/Vaggie's relationship would have been stronger if Vaggie stayed a Sinner.

Imagine in episode five when Lucifer said that Sinners are all awful people and Charlie claps back and uses Vaggie as an example of how some Sinners are kind people that got screwed over or done certain 'sinful' things to protect themselves?

If Viv wanted Vaggie being an angel to have more weight to it, remove all the Alastor bullshit, have a moment where Lucifer would have taken Vaggie aside while Charlie distracted. He confronts her saying that he knows she is an angel and asks Vaggie how she rounded up in Hell. Vaggie does not explain her full backstory, but she was once an exorcist, and that Charlie does not know.

"Post-pilot dialogue recording, Vivziepop decided that she wanted Cherri to be Australian, after becoming inspired by Australian folk music. Though the dialogue could not be re-recorded, Vivziepop has expressed interest in making Cherri Australian for future episodes and projects featuring the character."

Oh, my goodness. It does not help that Cherri's voice is annoying and forced. Americans cannot do an Australian accent without it sounding unrealistic. Anyway, if Viv founds something to be "cool", she just adds it to a character. When Cherri gets her own song, will the instrumentals be inspired by Australian folk music?

"Vivziepop said that, although she had yet to lock down all of the characters' races and ethnicities, she had been writing Niffty with a mind to her being Japanese. This was originally due to Niffty's pilot voice actress being able to speak Japanese fluently."

No wonder they changed Niffy's skin tone from the plot to the show. Saying that a character is now Japanese while their skin tone is yellow is unfortunate.

Do you know how surprised fans are when finding Niffty is Japanese? I find it 'funny' that Cherri has an accent, but Niffty does not one? Her VA is from Japanese descent. I would have been neat if Niffty said certain words in Japanese when speaking like how Vaggie does but with Spanish.

I remember seeing a post about the child Stolas/Blitz fanart, but I cannot find it for the life of me. They actually showed what the fanart looked like. I FOUND IT!! This was shared by an alleged ex-Spindlehorse employee. They said that another crew member drew it, not a random fan.

Blitz and Stolas being "childhood friends to lovers" is corny! I have no issue with the trope, but Blitz was sold to Paimon to play with Stolas for the day. That is dark which would have been fine if the show portrays it has dark and how twisted the Ars Goetia are and not "AWWWWWW! <3 THE ARE SO CUTE AND DESERVE TO BE TOGETHER!!!!!!!!" Them knowing each other as child is never bought up again in season two either so what was the point?

Viv not her own stories planned out is obvious. There nothing wrong with changing a plot detail or characterization. Do not do it last minute where episodes are in production and lines are being recorded.

[svartalfhild]

Omg 7 pls

7. visiting them at their place of work

Not sure what qualifies as "place of work" that's different from their normal meeting places, since they're both Mourn Watchers and Veilguardians, but I shall do my best to keep to the spirit of workplace.

The eluvians were just so damn useful. Rook and her friends could be in different parts of Thedas in a matter of hours or even minutes, and that made the task before them far easier than it otherwise would be. It also meant home wasn't far for any members of the team.

Today's featured convenience, however, was that Rook was able to bring Lucanis' fresh cooking to the Grand Necropolis. Emmrich had gone there early in the morning to address some trouble with a spirit he was evidently well acquainted with, and she thought she'd bring him some lunch. Maybe there was something she could help with, too. Or maybe she was just nervous about leaving him alone outside the Lighthouse for too long after overhearing Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain's plans to torture and experiment on him. Sure Manfred was with him, but as much as she loved Manfred and believed in him, she didn't think he'd be a match for anyone that might come for Emmrich.

So here she was, stepping through the mirror to the Grand Necropolis with a basket in hand, hoping to find him busy at work with what had sounded like some sort of bequeathal dispute and ready for a little break. The Necropolis was home, and she was always happy to return, but it still didn't feel the same as when she'd left over a year ago. Maybe it never would. Maybe the scars that she and the place had left on each other would never fade, and she'd never be entirely welcome here again. Maybe that's why the Lighthouse felt more like home now.

Still, she knew these halls and its people, and she refused to behave like a stranger here. She walked confidently through the passageways and grand chambers, outwardly ignoring the staring and whispering of apprentices and masters alike, even as she started to wonder if perhaps her hair was mussed or her waistcoat was missing a button. Yes, in case you missed it, Ingellvar was back and she didn't have time to stop and chat about what she was doing with Professor Volkarin or to indulge impudent questions about her past. She had important business that was none of yours.

After passing a throng of gossiping apprentices just outside the library who clearly hadn't learned how easily their voices carried here yet, Rook found Emmrich nestled amidst law books and legal scrolls at a table in the reading room.

"Emmrich?" He looked up at the sound of her voice, and the expression of irritation and concentration etched into his features instantly melted away to be replaced with joy.

"Hello, dearest! What brings you to the library?"

"You," Rook answered with a bright smile. "Your business sounded tedious, so I thought you might like a bite to eat." She indicated the basket, and Emmrich's eyes shone with adoration.

"Oh, how thoughtful. Truth be told, I was beginning to feel a bit listless and irritable. An interlude for refreshment would be most welcome."

"Walk with me," Rook requested cheerfully, holding out her hand. Emmrich closed his notebook, tucked it in his coat, and took her hand as he rose from his chair.

"Manfred? Keep an eye on these documents, would you?" he called out, and Manfred appeared from behind a bookcase with an obliging hiss, hobbling over to the table. Rook gave him a loving little pat on the side of his skull, which earned her a happy hiss.

"We'll be back soon," she promised before guiding Emmrich out of the library and towards the gardens, where they could have themselves a little picnic.

"There's Ingellvar again. And Professor Volkarin is with her. Maker, are they holding hands? The nobles'll be all aflutter if they hear about this," one of the apprentices whispered as they passed.

"That minx!" another gasped.

"Shut up, Drika! You're an apprentice! It's not going to happen for you!" a third hissed.

"I think we should all shut up. She's an elf; she can probably hear us," a fourth added flatly. Smart kid. Rook didn't even deign to look their way as she and Emmrich walked by. If he had heard them, he gave no indication either.

In the gardens, they found a lovely little empty plot nestled between some bushes, affording them a little privacy, and they sat down.

"I brought cheese sandwiches that I made with the bread Lucanis baked this morning and that Ferelden cheddar Harding was recommending. You can add butter or apple jam if you'd like; I've got some of each in here. There's also some stuffed peppers Lucanis wants us to try if you're feeling adventurous. To drink, I have-" Rook paused to squint at the elaborate Antivan calligraphy on the label of the bottle she'd pulled from the basket. "Well, it's an Antivan red Lucanis said pairs well with the stuffed peppers. It's probably worth more than my life. Oh! And Taash said the bananas we got from Rivain are finally ripe, so I brought a few of them too!"

"It all sounds delightful, my dear. Most especially because I get to enjoy it with you," Emmrich responded with a fond smile. Rook blushed and busied herself with setting out the food, unsure what to say. They enjoyed their sandwiches and wine for a few minutes before Emmrich spoke again, his tone much more serious. "Rook, may I ask you a question of a personal nature?"

"Certainly."

"Does it bother you? All the gossip. About you. About what you did. About us." Oh, that was very serious and personal indeed.

"I'm...used to commentary about my origins and my...monochrome appearance. I've been strange all my life. Very few people have their facts straight on what I did during the war and why, so I pay no heed to the uninformed takes bouncing around these walls. As for us, well, I don't particularly mind. The other Watchers can say whatever they like. It won't change how I feel about you, and we're both mages, so we're not illegal in the eyes of the Chantry or anything. There's no danger in people finding out, just...a lot of people being a bit rude. They'll probably get bored with it eventually and move on." Rook felt like she was rambling as she spoke, like she'd been sitting on these thoughts for a while and they'd all come spilling out at the first chance. She hadn't realized she'd been gesturing until she finished and noticed the uneaten half of her sandwich flopping in her hand.

"I see," Emmrich said softly, his eyes filled with sympathy.

"Why do you ask?" Rook inquired with an attempt at a more casual air before taking another bite of her sandwich.

"You squeezed my hand rather tightly when we walked by those whispering apprentices," he informed her, and she blushed again, this time in embarrassment.

"Oh. Sorry."

"It's perfectly natural to care what others think and to be hurt by ill considered words, you know." Emmrich gently placed his hand over hers, and she suddenly felt very weak. "You don't have to be an unshakable rock at every moment. I worry that you will shatter if you try." The threat of tears began to subtly burn behind her eyes at this. He had seen right through her.

"I might shatter if I don't," she replied, her voice wavering ever so slightly. "I can't afford to-" No, she couldn't say that. It would make her feel too exposed. "Varric always tells me that I'll have an easier time if I don't dwell on what others think and what I could have done better." At this, the sympathy in Emmrich's expression deepened and his fingers curled around hers.

"I see. We needn't discuss it further. I didn't intend to upset you."

"It's alright." She hadn't expected him to let it go so easily, but she wasn't going to question it.

"You show so much care for others. I only wish to show you the same in return."

"I know." Emmrich lifted her hand and tenderly kissed her knuckles, making her heart flutter.

"Shall we try some of those stuffed peppers?" he suggested gently, and she nodded, quickly finishing her sandwich before picking up a pepper. It was delicious, but of course she expected nothing less from Lucanis. They were crunchy, creamy, herbal, and spicier than she was accustomed to, but she didn't hate it. Emmrich muttered "oh dear" after his first bite but happily continued eating and slowly turned a bit red. They agreed that the peppers were fantastic albeit slightly painful. The bananas luckily turned out to be helpful in their recovery.

"I'll pass our review on to the chef," Rook chuckled as she began to pack everything back in the basket.

"Please do. And thank you ever so much for this lovely little picnic. It was a wonderful diversion," Emmrich responded warmly.

"You're welcome."

"Will you permit me to do something similarly diverting for you in the future?"

"If you'd like. I'm always happy to spend time with you, Emmrich."

"I'm glad to hear it."

Only after he'd returned to the library and she was on her way back to the mirror did she realize that he'd just finessed his way into getting her to let him take care of her. Dammit.

[taylitruther]

Maggie reflects on it all, after the dust settles from the whole ordeal with Blackpoole and the Davids. Should she have recognized them, her husband’s team of career criminals? She had never seen their faces, true. For her, they had always been names on pages and reports. She wasn’t the one chasing them down, that was her husband.

He was the one that got to gallivant across the world, tracking down stolen IYS insured art based on info she provided him. Tracking art cases Maggie had handpicked because she thought Nate would enjoy the chase.

Some common themes came up, because Nate always seems to enjoy those chases. A lone wolf thief who has a penchant for tricky grabs. A retrieval specialist who never seems to keep the items himself for long so you’ve gotta get him in the act. Even a hacker a few times who seems to try to take just to see if he can. And of course, a grifter who seems to be popping up anywhere and everywhere, especially where IYS art is.

And then Sam got sick, and Maggie took a leave of absence and took care of him while Nate threw himself into the job. He was gone longer, going on riskier missions. And that grifter had kept popping up.

And then her son died, and everything went to shit. She went back to work but her husband lost it, quit his job, became a raging alcoholic. She has to serve him with divorce papers. She wondered if he was going to go chase that grifter, Sophie, with all his newfound free time.

Even now, even after running into him and learning about his team, she doesn’t really know what to think about him and Sophie.

Then she starts to wonder how different their lives would be, if her birth control hadn’t failed. If Sam had never been born in the first place, rather than dying too young. They had always wanted kids, but getting pregnant when she had had put her behind on the organizational ladder, left her husband to be promoted to a position to be a field investigator before her.

Would they have gone across Europe together? Chased these people, who have become her former husband’s new family?

Without Sam’s death Nate probably wouldn’t have changed sides. But now that she’s seen the injustice, she sees why he did. She did, for a while. She even entertained the idea for a moment, just one moment, of joining them. Would she and Nate have seen those injustices, changed sides themselves? Joined a crew?

Would she have that family too?

Maggie Collins takes a long sip of her wine in her empty apartment with her laptop open in front of her. No use wondering about the past. She closes out of Facebook, saddened by looking at the old, happy memories. She drains her wine, and opens up a job application she has bookmarked for a traveling art appraisal job.

There’s really nothing left for her in LA.

[justbelievinginmagic]

im(mortal) - part 2: daydream.

pairing(s): vampire!enhypen ot7 x fem!reader, jake x reader focus for this chapter. series summary: Seven souls struggle with the bitter dregs of eternal life. As they hide amongst human society, they try to discover a cure for their curse, decade after decade, century into century. In their investigations, they find more than they could imagine brewing including a strange magnetic pull towards a human woman. Will they be able to find their humanity once more or will their world crumble beneath the weight of immortality? glimpse: In this modern-day university hall of over one hundred students, there was a lone heart beating louder than any heart that Jake had ever heard in his immortal life. Who's was it? warnings/tags: Inspired by Enhypen's MVs lore, Vampire AU, sort of Soulmate AU, College AU, heavy science fiction inspiration, ot7 x reader but not poly ot7 (but some are really close tbh), 3rd person POV, use of YN, Ni-ki written as Riki, mature topics, vampire typical themes, vampire lore, blood, biting, canon typical violence, descriptions of blood & sounds of blood, bloodlusting, stealing blood bags, mentions of illnesses, secondhand embarrassment from YN, obsessive tendencies from Jake, let me know if there needs to be more tags! word count: 5.7k first chapter <- -> next chapter series masterlist

One thing that never got easier was the sound. Some of the seven could block them out, but, like tinnitus, it’d ring back into focus. Loud. Overwhelming. Ever-present. As the decades crawled forward, there was only more noise. The electricity humming, the world buzzing and dinging and swooshing, the bones creaking. The gurgling, the beating, the rushing, the squelching of beautiful, wonderful, tempting blood.

Never-ending.

Jungwon had gotten good at ignoring a majority of it, but, when surrounded on all sides by humans in the large university lecture hall, it was distracting. Students talking, their hearts beating, their stomach grumbling, their phones and tablet and laptops dinging and humming and whirling, the pencils scratching, the shoes squeaking, the fluorescent lights buzzing. It was a lot to block out while still focusing on the lecture at hand. That was a big reason only a handful of the seven blood-brothers attempted going to college in person. In fact, most of them took advantage of online college courses instead. Jay and Riki could never survive around such commotion – for different reasons.  

Heeseung sat beside Jungwon, spinning a pen around his long fingers repeatedly. Jake was a few rows in front of them. A collection of girls whispered and swooned nearby, pointing at Jake as he adjusted his hair. They could hear their whispers clear as day.

Jungwon smiled fondly. It was the same routine. A routine he was starting to like. He had grown to like routine now. He liked its stability.

The professor droned on about something he had already learned decades ago. His Google document on his laptop didn’t have any notes from the session; just an email opened up with this week’s shifts at the hospital. Not many hours, all in the graveyard shift he noted. Good. He was tired of missing his day-classes when he got scheduled during the day. A medical student like him was always busy but c’mon, he’d lament. A notification popped up in the corner of his laptop. A message from Jay: Sunghoon got dinner. 

Relief trickled through his veins. Their stash of blood was running low these past few weeks. Jungwon couldn’t sneak anything from the hospital with the rising cases of a new mystery illness plaguing the country. He hadn’t heard much about it other than the rise of blood transfusions in the hospital. There was something brewing said doctors under their breath. A sickness that they didn’t understand.

So, the seven didn’t have their recent easy way of getting dinner. Not without suspicions rising or questions being asked. They had other ways than Jungwon sneaking a few blood bags. It had been decades, a century of needing this vitae. They had other ways. Not as easy but still other ways. And, their leeching (pun intended) off of the hospital would return.

After all, there was one thing that they learned in their decades of immortality: life goes on. Things evolve. Illnesses come and go in a blink of an eye. Plagues crash through society like waves of an uncontrollable ocean. It ebbed and flowed. Life came and went.

They didn’t need to worry about that, of course. They learned quite quickly that illnesses didn’t affect them. Nothing really did. Everything could be solved with blood. Hunger; blood. Injury; blood. Exhaustion beyond sleep; blood. Blood, blood, blood.

That’s all that matter for them, to them. An ever-constant need, an ever-constant haunt.

Pumping, rushing, thud-thudding, thu-thumping, beating, pulsing blood. Taunting.

Jake’s head throbbed already. He wondered if it was hunger striking him harder than usual (he hadn’t drunk as much blood lately, waiting for their newest batch) or if it was the bright fluorescent lights overhead faintly flickering. He tried to pay attention to the professor’s ramblings – a lecture on some historical event. The presentation on the projector flickered and flickered. Did the humans notice it, he wondered?  

Ugh, everything bothered him today. It made his anxiety climb and itch under his skin. Like a match temptingly close to a sandpaper pad, brushing and teasing against the rough surface. He felt his palms sweat. His body buzzed. The noises were louder.

Louder.

Louder.

There was a louder heartbeat that caught Jake’s attention. It was racing, louder and faster than anyone around him. A faint crinkle of his brow creased his forehead. He had never heard such a loud heart. It was magnified, almost to a too brash amplified beat. Immediately, Jake found it annoying.

No, it was not annoying; it was alarming.

His fingers fiddled with the edge of his ribbed sweater, taking slow breaths. In through his mouth, out through his nose like Jungwon had advised long ago.

Thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud.

He felt this loud heartbeat like it was his own heart’s pulsations. But his heart couldn’t race like that, couldn’t beat like that. It couldn’t. It hadn’t in a long time. Jake’s gaze flickered from the professor’s slide-show to glance back at Jungwon and Heeseung.

The eldest vampires, not in age but in rank, stared back at him. If anyone else had caught their gazes locking, they would say it was eerie. A magnetic quality almost. They locked and steadied on one another despite there being three of them. There was a quiet understanding between the three that most humans never experience. Their eyes spoke to one another with no words or facial expressions.  

‘You good?’

It was a simple thought that pressed into Jake’s mind. Thoughtful and careful much like the man who ‘said’ it. Heeseung was no emotion-reader (like Jay), but Jake’s mind was racing like a river. He could only pick out a few things in its rush. ‘What the fuck?’ being the loudest thought.

Jake nodded minutely, quick and near impossible for a human to detect. Just a little twitch if anything.

‘You don’t hear that?’ Jake projected.

Heeseung’s brow rose questioningly. There was nothing. Nothing he could tell at least. Things were ordinary. Annoying and overwhelming but ordinary. He shook his head. It made Jake’s brow crinkle into a furrow. He turned his head to stare at the professor once more.

“This signified a change in society – the first pandemic in modern times, and yes,” the professor drawled. “The 1910s are considered modern.” No one chuckled in the hall. “It sent shockwaves throughout everything. Culture, technology, gender-roles, war – when things are turbulent, people get scared.”

Thu-thud. Thu-thud. Thu-thu-thud. It was distracting.

Thu-thud. Thu-thud. Thu-thud-thud. How could they not hear it?

Thu-thud. Thu-thu-thump. Jake’s hand rose to his mouth, fiddling with his lips. His sharp teeth ached.

He glanced over the crowd. Who’s heart was it? Who was it? Was someone wildly nervous? No, it wasn’t racing like that. He’s heard all sorts of heart beats. Nervous, happy, afraid. It was just loud, quick, and… tempting. He could imagine the hot, pulsing blood coursing through the mystery person’s veins. Burning hot. Fast and quick and sweet. The way it’d pour into his mouth like a waterfall, never enough no matter how fast it spilled into the maw, into his own veins.

‘Dude.’ Heeseung broke through Jake’s daydream, scoldingly.  

Jake’s cheeks burned hot, embarrassed his hyung heard his blood-lust fantasy. His entire body felt hot actually. He shifted, uncomfortably. His hand went to shove his hair out of his face, sweat beaded at his hairline. He heard a college girl nearby swoon. “He’s so hot,” a whisper to another burned in his ear. They were sitting only a few seats away, but it was hard to catch it from the hummingbird heart that bellowed over everything. Thu-thump. Thu-thump. Thu--

Then, in through the double-doors of the lecture hall, the heart came not barreling into the room but creeping in, quietly. So quietly he was shocked her heart could be that loud and yet look so unaffected on the outside (other than having a pretty bashfulness dusting her cheeks red.) He bit down, jaw clenching painfully. She’d be delicious he knew it. So tasty.

YN thanked God that this was a lecture class – she was pretty sure the professor didn’t even know her name. Anonymity was liquid courage. A single student among a hundred. She could sneak it. Or so she thought. When everyone’s eyes zoomed in on her, she couldn’t help but pause. A flare of fight or flight, a want to hide. Her fingers curled around the metal push-bar of the blue door behind her. Her eyes tried not to lock with anyone’s as she tried to find an open seat anywhere in a hundred-person hall. Darting over the first row, the second row, no, no, no open seats.

“Late and disruptive,” the professor crowed out as he paused in his lecture.

He put a hand on his hip as he turned and stared at her as well. He looked down his nose at her, all sharp lines with the projection of the slide-show casting shadows over his face. Her mouth dried up as she clung to the door a bit tighter. Jake’s mouth watered as her heart skyrocketed in her chest. How was that even possible?

“Sorry,” she whispered.

“Find a seat or excuse yourself from my class before I kick you out,” he barked.

Her eyes widened. Damn, what a dick.

“Sor-sorry,” she bleated out again as she rushed in front of the class.

Some students laughed, snorting in their hand; most stared off into nothing, wishing to be in their dorms’ beds. A late-class always made students creep on the edge of sleep. The last rays of winter sunlight trickled in through the high ceiling windows at the back of the lecture hall.

Her boots, still caked in cold snow from outside, clanked against the concrete floors. Chunks of ice were left on the steps as she began to ascend quickly. The professor refused to continue until she had sat. Her ears burned. Except for her hurried footsteps, it was so quiet.

She was so loud in Jake’s ears; his eyes were stuck on her. Her heart was beating a thousand beats per second into a metaphorical megaphone. He would be worried for her health if she didn’t look so utterly normal. Well, normal-ish. Her face was a rosy color – cheeks flushed with blood and heat.

His tongue salivated. His canines ached. He wanted to bite her reddened cheek, draw that blood to his lips – that tempting heart could fill his mouth, his maw, his heart, his veins.

‘Jake.’ It was a warning tone, gentle and deep in his head; Heeseung was still poking around in his brain. ‘You good?’

It felt like water was dosed over his head, and still he felt holt. Shame, guilt, hunger: they all clashed in his stomach like some sort of boiling pot. He blinked and glanced away from this human woman. It was hard to look away as she hurried past. He tried to block out the images of taking the woman into his arms, biting her. Biting, biting, biting. He raised a hand to brush over his neck, shifting in his seat. His gaze flickered to his brothers, two wide saucers of brown-red eyes. Searching for support as his anxiety roiled in his chest. Heeseung’s gaze was steady on Jake, not even glancing over at the woman who hurried past the rows of students. Clunk, clank, clunk.

‘Do you need to leave?’

The thought pressed through a flurry of blood-lusting thoughts and guilt-ridden rambles, all jumbled in Jake’s head as he stared off at them. Almost unseeing. Jake breathed out, unsure. Why? Why was her heart so… tempting? None of the other students tempted him so. Just. Her.

Jungwon’s eyes followed her for the trio (because, of course, Heeseung had kept him in the loop with Jake – a strange case of telepathic telephone). His eyes lazed over her form as she settled down into an empty seat, a row behind Jake. She was pretty, he’d admit. But nothing drew him to her. Not even her heart beat. Her bag was slung to the ground with a clatter, and her hair fell around her face in a curtain as she pretended to search through it for her notebook and pencil. Hunched over, she tried to hide from the world for a second. Waiting, in the terrible silence of the large hall. A cough echoed from somewhere. Finally, the professor spoke once more, and she let out a shudder of a breath. Her eyes shut.

Cheeks red and heart pounding, YN thought maybe she shouldn’t had come to class at all; skipping wasn’t too bad of a sin, and most students did it with these types of classes; she was good with attendance usually, so, really, where was the harm? All this led to was humiliation at the hands of a professor who didn’t understand public buses getting delayed.

YN took a few deep breaths, a hand going to rub at her forehead before she tugged out her notebook and a stray pen. Popping back up in a flurry of hair, she watched as a handsome man hid his gaze, turning to face the professor who had begun his lecture once more. God, everyone was looking at her, she thought as she buried herself in her jacket and buried her attention into her notebook. 

Jake took a deep breath. He had gotten caught staring. Ignore her. Ignore her heart. Ignore the heat that seemed to radiate from her. Ignore her. Ignore her. Ignore it.

Slowly, her heart slowly fell into a calmer rhythm, but it didn’t seem to quiet. In fact, Jake swore it grew louder and louder. Like a ticking clock, like a pendulum swinging back and forth, like a metronome counting in a siren melody. Like a deadly monster calling his name and his name only. His blood-brothers didn’t feel her pull. When he glanced back at them, all Heeseung did was give him a questioning look. A careful look. Ever the older brother.

‘I’m okay.’ Jake thought in a mantra. ‘I’m in control.’

He was sure Heeseung doubted him; he wasn’t sure he trusted himself.

Class crept slowly by – the rest of the hour-long lecture feeling longer by how the professor droned on and on in the same monotone. It felt like an eternity with her heart in his ear. It wasn’t a squelching thing he realized. It was soft and thrumming and tempting. He flashed between daydreams of sip, sip, sip, sipping her blood from her throat to daydreams of being done with the class and running home to hide himself in his bed.

He was so lost in his thoughts that Jake didn’t notice the professor wrapping up class. The humans stood from their seats. His blood-brothers had stood from their seats. She hadn’t left. That’s all he could focus on. Her heart. Her heart was thudding and thudding in his ears. In his heart.

He stared off. Daydreaming of a girl he didn’t even know the name of. Just her heart.

YN sighed out as she stared at her incomplete notes. Only half a class worth of notes penned, and she knew this professor didn’t share his slides on the online portal. Cruel. (That was the real reason she had come late; this teacher hated technology.) Glancing around her row, suddenly, she felt invisible. Students push past her knees as they shuffled out of the row, yawning and texting and itching to get out of the lecture hall.

She needed the notes from the beginning of the class … glancing around, she debated just waiting until next class, but then she spotted him.

The cute twenty-something year old that had stared at her earlier, dressed in an inviting over-sized soft-ribbed sweater with dark long hair, sat in front of her, still. He hadn’t shifted – almost frozen like a statue. Maybe he was asleep? Some kids had learned to sleep sitting up in her multi-hour classes. She paused. Well, she could wake him – that’s only polite. And maybe he’ll be polite back and let her copy his notes.

Nudging his shoulder with a lithe finger, she asked. “Excuse me?”

Jake took in a small miniscule breath as he was jolted out of his daydream. He knew it was her. Her heart had become a melody, a tempting one but one that he fell into like the waves of an ocean, deep and dark and tempting but strangely soothing. She smelled nice. Like perfume, like detergent, like iron-blood. He licked his lips; his mouth was so dry and yet so salivating. Slowly, he turned and offered a small smile, tentative and gentle. His fingers fiddled with the hem of his ribbed sweater.

“Yeah?” his voice nearly cracked and he wanted to hide into the walls.

Oh, he was cute. His eyes were a pretty brown-red like lit firewood in a camp-fire. His hair was tousled effortlessly. His smile he offered her was bashful, soft, fleeting. But it was radiant. He was so cute. Swallowing quickly, she blinked.

“Hi, sorry, can I take a picture of your notes from the beginning of the class?” she asked.

Her heart had jumped. He had heard it. He swore he could almost feel it. His body felt aflame. Her features were so pretty. His eyes licked over her cheeks, the same cheeks he had wanted to bite earlier. His heart jittered and he jumped a bit to shift his notebook between his palms.

“Oh, yeah, yeah, of course,” he stumbled out.

The heart smiled brighter. “Thanks.”

With ease, she took a quick snapshot of his notes with her cell-phone. She squinted at his notes – there

“Sorry-- uh, sorry for the bad handwriting,” he apologized, flicking to the next page.

“No, no, its fine; better than mine,” she told him.

“I doubt that,” he teased. “Mine looks ancient.”

It was ancient. He’s had decades to change his handwriting, but it always remained this too loose cursive script. Like a doctor’s handwriting, it was indecipherable at points. He knew it. Yet, he still flushed at her words – face hot, heart hot.

“It’s pretty.” She said instead, her hand reached out to flip to the next page.

Her heartbeat filled his senses; maybe that’s why he felt so hot. Like his body was mimicking the way her heart rushed.

“I’m Jake,” he said. Sharp teeth gleaming.

“YN,” she smiled. Blunt teeth shining.

Her hand outstretched first. At the barest touch of her skin against his, he felt like he had been struck by lightning. Like every cell in his body became bubbling hot and freezing cold. Like he was stuck in the mansion, sitting in a tub of icy water before it became scalding hot. His atoms rearranged, electrified.

He pulled his hand away quick, jolting back and tugging his notebook with him. She let out a little sound that had his eyes flashing to her face.

She was pretty. So pretty, this sweet heart. His gums ached. His heart raced. Her heart raced. Their heart raced. He had to leave. He had to. He had to.

“Sorry, gotta go,” he excused lamely before stumbling out of his seat, fisting his backpack in one hand, and pressing his notebook to his chest with his other hand.

“Oh-okay,” YN barely managed to get out before she was alone in the emptying lecture hall.

Two pairs of red eyes watched her from the top of the lecture hall before, in a whoosh, they were gone.

-

“What was that all about?” Heeseung prompted, catching up to Jake easily. His hair was tousled by the teleportation, an unearthly shudder to his locks like it moved in slow motion. Like it was catching up with the world around him.  

Jake’s face felt hot, his hands felt hot. His entire body felt hot. Scorching, hotter, hotter. Out of control.

“Nothing,” he mumbled out. “It was nothing.”

“Didn’t look like it,” Jungwon commented from behind the duo. He kept his gaze solidly on Jake’s form.

“He could hear her heartbeat over all the others,” Heeseung gossiped. “YN, right?”

Her name felt like a taunt and Jake swallowed against the burning in his throat as his gums ached; his teeth were painful to the brush of his tongue.

YN, YN, YN.

Hungry. Hungry. Hungry.

“Jake.” His name sounded like a scold.

“I know,” he bit out, eyes shutting tight.

In his anger, his own fangs nicked his lower lip. A drop of red blood formed there. He licked it up and felt a burn in his throat. He could still hear her heart. How could he still hear it? He could still hear it pounding in his ears like it was his own heart in his chest. How? They were far from the lecture hall now, passing a bus stop. Sweat prickled the back of his neck.

“Do you need to stay home for a while? We don’t want ano–,“ Jungwon continued.

His cool, collected words were cut off as Jake turned suddenly, stopping in his tracks. His eyes were flaring red like ruby gems; his teeth sharp and glinting in the orange sunlight

“I don’t remind you of every mess up; I said it was nothing!" Jake snapped; a nearby lit-sign extinguished with a pop of sparks. Some humans nearby yelled in fright.

Jungwon’s dark red eyes were stoney as he stared at Jake. The fuming man huffed and puffed before he looked aside.

“This doesn’t make me think its nothing,” Jungwon countered, glancing over at the broken sign. His face was a blank canvas, almost detached looking as he walked towards Jake.

Jake’s breaths were shuddering. Jungwon paused beside him. His voice low as he spoke to him. Jake shut his eyes again, a hand raising to rub the bridge of his nose. He could still smell her. Like she was following after him. What the fuck?

‘I don’t mean to bring up the past.’ It was a fleeting thought from Jungwon.

Heeseung looked between the two, watching as Jungwon whispered to the other. It was an effort to give one another privacy with their impossible senses, harder with Heeseung’s powers, but it was possible. Like now. Jake replied back; his fangs sparkled in the setting sun. Dripping in saliva, dripping with sweet venom. When there was a lull, a barely shared look between the two men, Heeseung cleared his throat, shouldering his backpack over his back.

“C’mon, let’s just go home.” He slung his arms over the two, brotherly. “You’re probably just hungry.”

They walked away from the humans chattering about the sudden burst electrical light.  

-

“We’re home,” Jungwon called out, slinking his backpack off his shoulder.

Heeseung and Jake followed in after him; Jake pushed past the pair and up the stairs with heavied footsteps.

The grand mansion was different to the mansion they grew up in. It was larger than the orphanage for one – each man had their own large room, though few of them were decorated. In fact, if you walked around the mansion, it had a strange feeling to it. Like it was the mimicry of living. Perfectly staged. Slightly empty.

Heeseung liked this mansion despite the fake feeling he felt walking through it. It was better than his previous home. Before Jungwon had gathered them to live together once more, in this day and age, they had been scattered across the world like lost pieces of the same puzzle. Some stayed together and others had strayed off alone. Riki and Heeseung had wanted the same thing at the time. Freedom. Or what they thought was freedom.

Their apartment had been dirt-cheap – but also dirty. Peeling, molding baby-blue walls taunted him like a specter. Two small single beds took up the majority of the damp room. A large window took up one wall, looking over the city (if one could look past the coat of grime it had). There was a radiator that hummed a high-pitched shrillness more often than not separating their beds. Eventually, there was an old television, new at the time and something the pair of them splurged on with the little cash they made, shoved against the far wall next to their shared closet. The floor was often covered in books or notebooks or sometimes trash. Boys being boys, or just him and Riki being free.

This place was far better. Clean, large, and clean. His room was more decorated than most of the blood-brothers. He clearly liked it here more.

Heeseung padded into the living room and plopped down on the too-firm settee, sighing out and stretching. At least here, the ever-present sounds of hearts’ thu-thumping and gurgling and sloshing were quieter. All of their heart beats were similar, familiar, and easy to tune out. They often didn’t hear each other now. Was it familiarity? Was it fate? Was it that they were inhuman and therefore equal to their senses? They didn’t know. Just that each of the vampires’ heart rates were slow, almost sludge-like as their strange blood coursed through their veins at a snail’s pace.

The noise of the television was a different story; Heeseung’s tired eyes flickered over to Riki who was biting into his lower lip as he played a video game on the flat-screen TV. It was some new flashy vampire game with too much gore and with a screen so dark that humans couldn’t play it in bright-light. Meanwhile, Riki could see every pixel if he focused too hard.

‘Hey.’ He greeted Heeseung with a single thought; his eyes didn’t tear away from the screen.

Jungwon walked past the living room, past Heeseung and Riki, into a kitchen. Now, if anything looked like a staged space, it was the kitchen. Fake fruits sat in a basket, plates were sitting in a cabinet, dustied and unused.

Jay was there, sorting through their fridge. Handfuls of IV bags were in his arms. A negative, O positive, A positive, even an AB were among the labeled. Patiently, he reorganized their refrigerator by type. Sunghoon was sat on the nearby counter; face mask and baseball cap discarded beside him. He was suckling on an IV bag quickly, almost chugging it. Sunghoon always struggled with the taste of blood, even decades later.

“Hey,” Jay nodded at Jungwon.

“Hey; good job,” the oldest vampire yet youngest among the three nudged Sunghoon’s knee with his hand. “You didn’t get caught?”

Sunghoon’s brows raised in a challenge at Jungwon, playful, as he squeezed the rest of the blood into his mouth.

“Not that I know of, couldn’t sense anyone nearby, and Jay took care of the cameras.” Sunghoon commented, smacking his lips before tossing the IV haphazardly to his side.

“Good,” Jungwon hummed again. “Anyone else eat yet?”

“Riki devoured three of the new packs; I had one; Jay?” he looked towards the man finishing organizing the fridge.

He raised up two fingers. “Old stock.” He added. 

“Where’s Sunoo?” Jungwon asked Sunghoon.

Sunghoon leveled him with an exasperated look. “Room. Where else?”

Jungwon sighed out. It had been two weeks of this. Sunoo isolated himself often throughout the decades, growing lost in his mind and its illusions. He’s recalled stories of him and the boys that had never happened. Spoke riddles of a princess, talk of a land far away from theirs. Jungwon worried for him more often than not.

Grabbing two older blood bags, he thanked the two before treading through the rest of the mansion. The long hallways felt endless at times, but Jungwon liked it that way. It felt endless in a way that the manor they grew up in didn’t. Their whole world had been in that stupid, tiny house. That stupid burnt to a crisp mansion. Now, they had all of this. Or at least, Jungwon had all of this. It was his mansion after all. He owned it.

“Sunoo,” he called out as he walked down wainscoted hallway. Dark cherry wood and white painted walls encased him. One door on each side. A music room. A painting room. Finally, Sunoo’s room at the end of the hallway. “Dinner-time.”

Jungwon knocked once before entering, shutting the white door behind him.

-

“Dinner,” Jay called from the doorway to the living room.

“In a minute,” the youngest called. Riki hadn’t moved, his eyes locked on the television. His in-game character bit ruthlessly into a human. Screams and garbles noises came from the speaker.

“Not for you. You drank three bags in two minutes,” Jay retorted. “Hyung.”

Heeseung nodded from his spot.

“I’m still hungry,” Riki said. He didn’t complain, just stated.

“Where’d Jake go?” Jay asked ignoring the youngest, his gaze flickering upwards. He could feel the turbulent emotions like a tremble in the air. Like static electricity clinging to the back of his mouth. A calm before the storm.

“Attic,” Sunghoon called, half lying on the couch. His laptop was perched on his stomach; some notes about velocity and speed and weight shone on the screen. Heeseung didn’t understand most of it – he favored the arts while Sunghoon favored this. Science. He said it helped. Helped what he wasn’t sure.

But, of course, Sunghoon would know where Jake had gone off too. He was skilled with knowing where everyone was.

“He good?” Jay asked, more towards Heeseung.

Heeseung sighed but revealed what had happened. “There was this girl in our history course.”

“Oh, a crush?” Riki teased, laughing as he paused his game finally.

“No, not like that,” Heeseung defended, brows furrowing. “It was weird. He was like obsessing over her—”

“It’s a crush,” Riki teased, dangling his controller in between long fingers. He stretched out on the couch, kicking his now-long limbs into Heeseung’s lap.  

“No,” Heeseung scolded, nudging the younger’s legs off his lap. “He could hear her heartbeat louder than the others.”

“What?” Jay laughed a bit, concerned.

“Weird, right?” he countered. “Jungwon’s worried.”

“I got that, but he’s always worried,” Jay replied, crossing his arms as he leaned against the doorway.

The boys laughed at that.

Jake could barely hear their laughter from the attic. No, all he could hear was her. Her heart. He could feel it in his chest still, his heart thudding more ferociously than ever before.

A hand rose to press against his bare skin, shedding the soft sweater and his button up shirt. Staring into a mirror, he looked at his chest. His heart thu-thumped, thu-thumped, thu-thumped. Faster than ever. His eyes flared a hot red - almost a burning orange. Sweat dripped down his back.

He hadn’t felt this way ever. Maybe when he was young but that had been so long ago. Things were different now. They were all different now. Older. Physically and mentally. Controlled.

Control. He had everything under control. His heart beat hummingbird-quick. Uncontrolled. A vein in his neck pulsated. Control.

Breathe in, breathe out.

He laid back against the spare bed, his skin sizzling at it met the mattress. A burn of his silhouette haloed into the fabric. Smoke pillowed around him.

Breathe out, breathe in.

Her heart, his heart, was beating, still. His heart...

He had to see her again.

Something had changed today beneath the setting orange sun. Just like that night under the blood moon.

Running through the forest that night as boys upon the brink of manhood, they never realized how far their prison had been from civilization. Many nights were spent in those woods.

Dawns that bled a burning red sun, dazed in their fury and hunger. Angry at what they have become – because they had become something different. Their stomach cramped even with their gulps of red vitae. Their teeth were sharpened like wolves. Their eyes red, inhuman. Nights that felt endless in a cold blue, gnashing teeth and icy tears. Their path was formed by fear. Their unity was all they had those nights and days.

Hazed by time, many of them can only make out bits and pieces.

They hid. They hid for quite some time. Inside an abandoned hunting shed with a single mattress in the corner on the floor. There was the smell of rotten blood and animal fur. Some of them argued about going back – they’d die out here they said. Blood vials were downed sparingly, shared between the brothers as they sat on the bed. Huddled but not cold. They were never cold.

Riki remembered their fangs glinting at one another in anger. Sunoo remembered chasing Jake down in the woods one day after he fell into a fit of tears.

Jungwon remembered offering his neck, his wrist, his veins to his brothers once their rations dwindled. The pierce of fangs ached more than any needle did but he didn’t cry or whimper. It was his sacrifice.

During those dusks to dawns, they learned more and more about themselves. Their talents were more than speed or telepathy or freezing time. It was teleportation. One moment they could be in the shed; the next they were perched on a tree branch. It was immortality. Their bodies were flexible, able to bend and face the world with a resilience. It was hearing. They could hear the doe running through the forest away from a predator, away from their violence.

Sunghoon discovered the strangest one – transformation. Shapeshifting. Transfiguration. It wasn’t in anger or fear or any emotion when it had happened. He simply felt it. Tingling at his fingertips, tingling in his toes. Like a live-wire beneath his skin. His head threw back, staring up at the starry night. The deep-azure sky far above him seemed so free, seemed far from their reality. Optimistic. He took a breath in - of upturned dirt, of fresh dew, of aged-pine. And when he breathed out, he became something else.

A flurry of bats took his place. Spiraling up and away from the ground he stood on, flying high, flying free. Flying away from the forest.

In his discovery, Sunghoon had found their key to their future. A line cutting through the forest. A road. A way to civilization. He returned for his brothers and took them forward. Day broke as they walked the fine line.

For so long there had been only two constants in their lives since they walked down that road and into society. Their unbreakable bonds and their unstoppable hunger for blood. But Jake knew in his blood, as it raced for the first time in a century, that there was a third constant: you.

[narrans]

A Small and Tall Collection | Chapter Nine | Revealed

Chapter Nine | Revealed

Soren’s sleep was restless at best. He was never a deep sleeper, but over the years he’d learned to manage with his semi-broken sleep cycle. His work schedule also kept him on his toes. The mid-twenties man was more likely to be found napping than accepting a deep sleep. Rarely did he dream. Rarely did he feel fully rested. Between his younger brothers and his subconscious vigilance of the apartment they shared, Soren had honed his mind and body to accept the rest it received.

Last night was no different.

Soren woke up a few times throughout the night, believing he was hearing voices or the creak of a step down the hall. Once, he actually pushed himself out of bed and poked his head into his brothers’ room to find them both asleep soundly. Some of their stuff from their bottom drawer was on the floor, but otherwise neither or them stirred.

One thing was certain though – something was off. Soren always had a sixth sense about him. It wasn’t something that he could describe or define. It was like something in the back of his mind told him – warned him – that something was off. This sense served him well as a fire fighter, and as an older brother.

With it being four in the morning, Soren decided to ask the boys about it the moment they were awake. They would be up and about in a few hours anyway. He padded back through the apartment without making a sound and slipped back into his own bed, relishing the cool sheets and the solitude he finally regained after days of sick brothers interrupting his already broken sleep.

He did it lovingly – willingly – but it didn’t stop him from enjoying those few peaceful moments he had to himself.

I’ll just talk to them in the morning. Don’t worry about it. Maybe they had a nightmare or don’t want me to know they got sick in the middle of the night or something. Can’t be anything crazy, right?

~~~^*^*^~~~

“Soren? Soren? Are you awake?

It felt like he’d barely closed his eyes before he began hearing the gentle, plushy voice of his youngest brother. His hot little hands grabbed onto Soren’s arm, that much he was sure of. He didn’t need to open his eyes to know which brother was currently grabbing his wrist.

Soren pried his groggy eyes open. He immediately spotted both boys standing in his room and, in an instant, the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. It was his sixth sense. One look and he knew that something was off. The boys knew something and now were here to tell him. Whether it was a confession of guilt, a case of tattling, or simply a desire to hang out with him, the oldest brother didn’t know.

What he did know was that he needed to be alert and aware for whatever these two had in store for him. Out of habit, Soren glanced down by their hands to see if there were pillows in their hands. They’d ambushed him before with a surprise pillow fight on multiple occasions.

Nothing.

He stifled a yawn and pushed himself up out of bed, blankets tumbling off of him like moss from a tumbling boulder. The realization that he’d taken off his shirt in the middle of the night only hit him now, and he quickly grabbed the crumpled cloth from beside his pillow and slipped it over his head.

“Okay you two, what is it?” he asked. Both boys shared a glance, telling Soren this was probably some kind of confession which both of them were guilty of, before looking back at their oldest sibling. Then, like one would see in a cartoon, both boys began speaking in tandem, bouncing off of one another’s phrases as if rehearsed.

“Um… okay. So… last night something super duper weird happened,” Dorian started explaining.

“Yeah! Super weird,” chimed in Rey.

“And we didn’t want to wake you up in the middle of the night.”

“Well, Dorian didn’t.”

“Anyway, we found something in our room last night.”

“Someone you mean.”

“And…”

Soren’s blood ran cold and all other words lost their meaning.

“Wait, someone was in your room last night?” Soren immediately bristled and glanced around for the key to his drawer. If there was an intruder in their home, they were about the pay dearly for it.

“No! No. Dorian, you’re explaining it wrong,” Rey chastised, but stopped abruptly when Soren shot him a warning look to keep explaining. “Okay, well. I heard something last night in our room and, when I looked, there was a girl standing on the bedside table. She sounded sick and almost fell off of the dresser, but Dorian caught her, but he might’ve broken her arm.”

“Not on purpose!” Dorian interjected. “She was falling and I just grabbed her arm so she didn’t fall.”

“And you wouldn’t believe it! She’s like, this big!” Rey indicated with his hands that the size of this so-called girl was about as tall as Rey’s hand. Soren was starting to question whether this was real or part of a dream when the two boys, like playful kittens, began prancing back toward their room and motioning for Soren to follow.

“Come on! We need to fix her,” Dorian said.

“Yeah! Soren made us better, and he can fix her too,” added Rey.

Soren sighed and wondered again if this was just part of some elaborate dream, but then he remembered something. When Soren poked his head into the boys’ room the night before, their drawer had been turned out and all of its contents were on the floor.

There’s… there’s no way… right?

Soren found himself cautiously following behind his brothers as they flanked their bedside table. Both looked eager and concerned at their sibling, glancing between him and the drawer. The padding of Soren’s bare feet on the ground suddenly felt like an avalanche, and every hair on the back of Soren’s neck was standing on end.

He didn’t need to look into the drawer to know something was in there – and it was alive.

He steeled himself before kneeling in front of the drawer and glancing at both boys, whose eyes begged him to see what they had discovered. Sixth sense sounding alarms in the back of his head, Soren grabbed the knobs and gingerly pulled out the drawer as slowly and carefully as possible.

What he saw made his thumping heart skip like a stone across the water. His breath hitched and every thought except for one silenced itself.

She’s real.

Sure enough, the boys were not victims of their own imaginations. There was indeed someone in their room, and she was maybe four or so inches tall. Messy brown hair in a bun. Blue-gray eyes blown wide with fear. Arm clutched to her chest and features gaunt and sickly.

She looked at him, and he looked at her. There was no doubt in Soren’s mind that she possessed sentient intelligence; but, based on the way she let her eyes glaze over and drift away from him, Soren intuited she was obviously terrified and trying to keep a low profile. Soren’s keen gaze picked up on the subtle way her breathing came in nervous, shallow breaths and the way her eyes darted around now that they weren’t looking at one another.

Holy smokes… she’s terrified. And she’s been in here all night?! Soren took a breath to calm his frustration and anger, forcing himself to remember his brothers were so much younger than him and, despite their mature moments, were still children with kid logic. They’re seven and eight. They’re seven and eight. They should know better, but they’re seven and eight. Maybe I should’ve gotten them a guinea pig to take care of. Okay okay okay… Take a breath. We need to make this right.

Soren glanced at the faces of his brothers before looking back at the small woman and realizing the monumental task in front of them.

~~~^*^*^~~~

Ashlynn couldn’t believe she’d fallen asleep. Panic. Illness. Pain. Confined and contained in the care of two small human boys and their dad who would undoubtedly locker her into a cage the moment he was awake.

Everything should’ve been enough to keep her awake.

I must’ve been more exhausted than I thought, Ashlynn thought silently. She’d hoped that she would rest for a short time before getting up and trying to make some kind of escape plan. Sadly, that didn’t happen. Fragments of what happened the night before kept her body rigid and heart hammering a hole through her ribs. She added it to the list of things that were currently hurting.

Even though her ears felt clogged like she was under water, she tried listening to what was going on outside of the wooden prison she was confined in. Being in darkness let her eyes adjust to see the thin sliver of light along the top of the drawer, but it just that – a sliver. It wasn’t even enough to slip her fingers into, and she certainly tried with her one good arm.

I’m not making it out of here. I can’t. Not with this arm. Not like this.

Ashlynn felt emotion welling up in her throat. The hopelessness she’d managed to suppress the night before started to constrict her lung and salty tears pricked her eyes. It was by instinct alone that she discerned the thumping of feet against the ground followed by one set of much louder footsteps.

No. No. No. No! Now?

Ashlynn stumbled over the cup of water back onto the folded socks she’d used as a bed and huddled as close as she could to the grain of the wood. Never in her life had she wished more to be invisible, blending perfectly with her surroundings. Nothing could stop the sound of those footsteps coming toward her. It was like the deep chime of a church bell, tolling for her and her alone.

When the sound of the footsteps stopped, Ashlynn had only one breathless moment to steel her resolve to not talk to the humans. It was the last and only rule she could hope to adhere to now that she was caught.

The drawer sounded like the roar of tires above her head, making it throb harder, as it was pulled open. The sudden flooding of light made her wince and instinctually look up.

That was a mistake.

The moment she looked up, she was instantly captured by the pools of golden hazel eyes staring back at her. Even from this distance, she could make out every detail of Soren’s face. The slight bit of morning shadow on his cheeks and chin. The flecks of light brown mixed in with his dark brown hair. Not even her blurring vision could stop her from noticing the way his eyes widened and pulse quicken as he stared at her.

Holy smokes! What do I do? What do I do? I messed up! I messed up! I shouldn’t have looked at him! He’ll know I can understand. He’ll suspect it immediately! I have to do something. Look away! But slowly.

Ashlynn let her vision blur as she listlessly let her eyes drift away and down from the enormous human man crouching mere feet from her. She hoped it would be enough, but somehow knew it already wasn’t. Her breathing shallowed. Her ribs ached from the constant thrum of her heart.

All she could register was her own breathing for several painfully quiet seconds. Why aren’t they saying anything? Why isn’t he saying anything? This is torture. Just do something already! Grab me. Shut me in here. Leave me alone. Say something. Anything! Don’t just stare!

The silent pleas somehow spread through the air, saturating it with tension, as Soren cleared his throat and leaned away ever so slightly from the opening of the drawer.

“You two found her?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah, on the nightstand,” Dorian replied.

“Technically I saw her first,” Rey pointed out.

“Yeah, but I saved her from falling off of the edge,” retorted Dorian.

“Yeah, and probably broke her arm too,” argued Rey, who looked toward Soren. “When Dorian grabbed her arm, there was a little ‘pop’ and she screamed.”

No! Please! Don’t tell him that! Did I really scream? They know… they know I can make sounds. They’ll put together I can talk in seconds! Tears began to burn Ashlynn’s eyes, but only a single tear formed enough to roll down her cheek.

When she heard Soren sigh, a pit in her stomach began to churn and threaten to make her vomit again, but she couldn’t have predicted what the older human was going to say next.

“Guys, you should’ve come to get me,” said Soren, voice obviously measured as he looked between the two younger kids.

“But, we didn’t want you to get sick. You were tired and…” Soren held up a finger and, immediately, Dorian stopped with his explanation.

“Guys, this isn’t just some cute little mouse that you want to help. This is a person. A real person, and she deserves to be treated like one,” Soren scolded. It was obvious he was keeping his tone even and calm, though his words instantly cut the boys to the quick. “She’s obviously not feeling well and now she’s hurt. She’s been suffering all night when we could’ve been helping her.”

Ashlynn felt her jaw dropping as she watched the boys’ shoulders slump and heads hang. The words Soren was using – she, real person, suffering – almost made her believe that he was actually seeing her like one of them – a human.

That… wait… what? He’s… talking about me like… I’m not different than them. No! It’s a trick! It has to be!

“But…”

“No buts, Dorian. And none from you either Rey. Think about it for a second. If you were small like her and you were sick and hurt, how would it make you feel to be shoved in a drawer all night long?” asked Soren. He glanced from brother to brother and noticed their eyes glossing over. They were obviously upset, both at Soren’s scolding and with themselves.

“We… we gave her food and water,” sniffled Dorian.

“And that’s all well and good, but she’s also sick and hurt. Every minute we wait to fix her arm could be causing more damage if it really is broken. What if she can’t use her arm because we didn’t get it mended in time?” asked Soren.

Excuse me… what?! Is that… Is that actually a thing? Ashlynn clutched her pulsing arm closer, noticing how it twinged and ached more than last time. She began trying to clench her fist and found it more difficult than before. The aching intensified into a tingling, jabbing pain. She was so focused on evaluating her own arm that Ashlynn didn’t notice how Soren’s eyes flicked past his brothers and down to her, catching a glimpse of her reaction.

Soren couldn’t think about the small person’s movements now. He needed to finish talking to his brothers and then start working on their hand sized house guest.

“Guys, I know your hearts were in the right place, but you can always come get me. If you’re getting sick, come to me. If you feel scared from a dream, come get me. If you find someone the size of your hand in your rooms, come get me. That’s what I’m here for, okay? It will never bother me,” said Soren.

Both Dorian and Rey wiped their eyes with the back of their hands, chapped noses turning red and running ever so slightly. Ashlynn couldn’t believe what was happening. The boys, with a few stern words and some simple examples, were beginning to cry.

“I’m sorry Soren,” muttered Rey.

“I’m so… sorry too,” Dorian sniffled. “I thought we were doing the right thing. I d-didn’t mean to hurt her.”

“Yeah, me too. I’m sorry.”

“Well, I’m not the one who you should be saying sorry to, but thank you. Now, I need to see what I can do for our little friend here. In the meantime, you two need to think about a proper apology for her. Okay?” asked Soren. The two boys nodded, their pale blue eyes glancing back at Ashlynn, which made her curl in on herself. She wasn’t sure, but her body was shaking either from the sickness or nerves.

“Now, let me grab the drawer here and then I’ll be in the kitchen in a bit. Okay?” stated Soren. The boys parted, giving Soren enough room to grab either side of the drawer. Ashlynn watched as looming arms cast shadows long and wide across the base of the wooden box and over her. There was a massive jostle from all sides and, with one swift and nauseating motion, Soren had removed the drawer from the bedside table and had stood with it.

Ashlynn didn’t need to see out of the box to feel the thunderous footsteps all around her as the box she was in was carried from one room to the next. The subtle swaying was enough to make her nausea choke the back of her throat to the point where Ashlynn forced herself to stifle the gagging she so desperately needed. She couldn’t see where they were going. She didn’t want to know. All she wanted now was to run back to the walls and hide.

She curled in on herself, unaware that the drawer she was in had stopped moving, as her vision blurred, lids heavy with exhaustion. The thought of eating and drinking had lost all appeal, and it felt like there was no adrenaline was left in her system to jumpstart any movement. Escape seemed like a distant desire, leaving her with the one hope that she’d be left alone to tend to her arm.

No discernable thought made its way to the surface until she heard Soren say, “Hey there, little miss. You’re going to be okay.” It was involuntary, but Ashlynn’s eyes had opened and flicked up to Soren with a flash of indignation before she could even stop herself. The human man’s eyes filled with a mixture of hurt, surprise, and yet understanding at the same time. As if she’d said something, he continued.

“I know. It seems hard to believe, but I promise I’ll keep you safe. Now, first things first, I need to get some stuff to take a look at that arm. The boys said they thought you might be hurt, so we’ll take care of that. Okay?” asked Soren.

No. Not okay. Just leave me alone. Haven’t you three done enough?

The floor creaked, making Ashlynn look up as she began to embrace her fate when, to her surprise, Soren turned and walked away out of sight and out of the room. For several seconds, Ashlynn stayed curled in a ball on her makeshift cot made of socks while she listened for the human man to return with whatever he was going to retrieve. Then, a thought occurred to her.

If he comes back with a cage or something else to keep me here, I’m not getting out of here. I need to get out of here. Maybe my arm isn’t as bad as I think. Maybe it’s just bruised and he’s playing it up. Ashlynn doubted her own inner monologue, but she kept going. I need to get out of here. Right now, I need to leave. If it’s the last thing I do, I need to go out fighting. What would my parents think? What would my… brother… think?

Ashlynn clenched her jaw and, summoning what little energy she still possessed, shoved her body to its feet.

I’m a Borrower, not some pet; and I am getting out of here.

~~~~~^*^*^*^*^~~~~~

Continue | Coming Soon

Previous

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A Tall and Small Collection | Original Story

[crazylittlejester]

Have you explained how Time and Malon met in your modern au?

(this is an invitation to yap cause I love them)

I dont think i have!!

They met in a lot of different ways, they’d run into each other several times before they actually got to know each other

When Time was ten he officially lost his bad eye and it took him a while to adjust to seeing with one eye and he bumped into Malon at a grocery store (like physically ran into her) because she was running through the aisles looking for her dad. Time helped her find him before going off to find his siblings who he’d come there with

They met again when they were 12 in a park. Time was having a rough time with health issues and he’d run off to sit at the park and watch the geese and Malon was there with her dad and recognized him and came to bother him. She has no idea her being kind to him like that gave him a reason to go back home and eat dinner instead of staying at the lake for who knows how long

They went to high school together and ofc recognized each other, and while they weren’t best friends or even really friend friends, more so acquaintances, they did talk, and they learned each other’s names (Time wasn’t in school a whole lot, in fact he had to keep arguing with his dad to let him keep going to school because he’d end up missing at LEAST one day a week, and he didn’t really make any friends in high school)

Malon ran into him AGAIN when they were 20 at a place she NEVER expected to find him, she’d been dragged by a friend of her’s to see a band play some covers of popular songs because her friend knew someone in the band and that is how Malon learned Time can SERIOUSLY play the guitar. she talked to him afterwards like “dude what the fuck” and she’d always wanted to get to know him better (SHE wouldve considered them friends in high school, Time didn’t realize she cared about him that much) so they talked for a bit and just really clicked. they were friends for years and they were together by the time they were 23, married by 25, and acquired Twilight at 26, and now they’ve been happily married 21 years after first meeting each other 36 years ago

It was truly a case of right person wrong time and they kept bumping into each other until it WAS the right time

[hailtothepumpkinqueen]

(This is probably the longest thing I've ever written, around 4.5k words, but it wouldn't leave my head til I made it real lol

From Shane's perspective. No one had seen the farmer all day, and he's the only one who goes to check on her. Lot of talking over drinks ensues.)

Everybody Talks

Gossip was nothing new for Shane. In a small community like Pelican Town, gossip was the lifeblood and social currency that kept it running. No "secret" was ever truly secret, everyone knew everyone else's dirty laundry. It was the number one pastime and practically a professional sport here. He himself knew far more than he ever cared to learn from his spot in the Saloon(and been the topic of discussion more times than he could count), but he at least had the good sense to drink his beer and keep his mouth shut.

And, on a Friday night like tonight, the not at all subtle gossip sessions were in full swing. Seemingly everyone clucking like excited hens about one topic in particular: the farmer.

Now, she wasn't a new topic of conversation either. The whole damn Valley was a-buzz about her before she even stepped off the bus, hungry for fresh meat. Hungry for new secrets to uncover and info to share. Speculating and predicting what kind of person she'd be purely based on their own biases. Not that he had been much better. Constantly hearing about her had soured his opinion before he even knew her name. Like hearing a harmless song on the radio so many times you'd grown to hate it. But, again, he at least kept his opinions to himself. Mostly. Not his fault his face gave away what he was thinking.

The specific reason why everyone was talking about her, however, pricked his ears up.

No one had seen her at all today. She hadn't come to Pierre's shop, she hadn't picked up one of her tools from Clint, and she was clearly absent from the Saloon on a Friday. No one could recall speaking to her and the requests on the bulletin board had gone ignored. It was as if she had just vanished into thin air.

But, in all the theories he heard bouncing around, he never once heard someone admit to going to her house to check on her. Fucking typical. Feign concern and then expect someone else to actually do something about it. Yoba forbid she was hurt or something..

The thought made his stomach churn and his chest tighten suddenly. Normally, someone dropping off the face of the earth wouldn't bother him. Maybe she just wanted to be left alone for once, that was her business. But, after their talk on the dock, knowing she was struggling, he couldn't help the nagging worry chewing on his insides.

Ah, fuck it. He wasn't gonna be able to enjoy his drink with his stomach in knots like this. Might as well be the one to at least make sure she was alive. Just get eyes on her and then back to the Saloon for a well deserved cold one. Easy peasy.

He found himself walking very quickly towards the farmhouse, shivering at more than just the chill of a particularly cold Fall wind as his brain swirled with worst case scenarios. Images conjured up by a mind that consumed horror movies on a regular basis and knowing the kind of damage farm equipment could cause. A new grisly mental picture cropping up every time he shook the previous one away. Blood and guts and exposed bone and lifeless eyes and--

The sharp sound of a dog barking ripped him from his gorey thoughts, making him freeze in place. The big ass german shepard he forgot she had was staring at him suspiciously, barking again as if to say "state your business!"

"Heeey, boy. Easy. I'm just here to check on your...master? Nope, that sounds gross. Owner? Uh, person?" He held a hand out for the dog to sniff, speaking softly and calmly. Hoping if he appeared chill he'd get to keep his appendage intact.

The dog, seemingly satisfied with that, licked his hand and looked back towards the wooded area of the property. Where Shane could hear, right on cue, the sound of approaching footsteps and see the light of a lamp growing brighter as it got closer.

Out of the treeline stepped the farmer, her dark hair pulled up in a bun for the first time he could remember seeing. It made her look taller somehow, maybe because her neck looked longer this way. Like a swan. She had an axe slung over her shoulder and presumably firewood under the other arm, the light he thought was from a lamp emanating from a ring on her pointer finger.

"Miller?" He called, more out of shock than anything. Inwardly relieved that she was okay and feeling dumb for worrying so much.

Her eyes widened in surprise when she saw him before her face settled into an uncharacteristic scowl, setting the axe down with a muffled thump as it hit the dirt.

"Cooper." She replied coolly, breezing past him towards the house. Putting the firewood in its cubby and pointedly not looking at him. "Did Marnie send you? She'll get her vegetables first thing tomorrow, tell her to just be patient."

"Wh...no? My aunt didn't send me, I'm not her errand boy." He huffed, offput by the assumption and her weirdly icy demeanor. Yeesh, was this what it was like to be on the receiving end of his prickly attitude?

"Little late to be checking on the chickens, then. They're asleep by now. But the coop's over there if you wanna wake them up and say 'hi'." Nodding her head towards said coop and still not looking at him, throwing off her work gloves on the porch.

"I'm not here for that either. I--hey!" He reached out to grab her wrist as she moved to walk past him again. "Would you just stop a second? I came to see you, okay?"

She tensed up but didn't try to pull away from him. And, now that he was close, he could see her eyes were puffy and red, and her lip was quivering. She'd been crying again...

"You came all the way out here just to see me? Yeah, right." She gave a bitter sounding laugh and shook her head in disbelief, her voice cracking.

"It's true!" He insisted, leaning to try and look her in the eye. "The whole town's in a tizzy because no one had heard from you today. And I was..."

"Were you worried about me, Cooper?" She arched an eyebrow brow at him, the barest hint of an amused smirk turning up a corner of her mouth.

"I mean...a little? Maybe. If you wanna call it that." He felt his cheeks burn in embarrassment, releasing her wrist and stepping away. Shoving his hands in his jacket pockets. "Just wanted to make sure you weren't stuck in a well or somethin'."

She blew air out of her nose, and the smile became a little more pronounced, some of the tension visibly leaving her shoulders.

"Nothing so dramatic, I'm afraid. Just...ugh. It's so stupid..." She frowned again and looked away from him, putting her hands on her hips.

"Try me. I bet I've heard stupider."

She sighed heavily, sitting on the top step of the porch and digging a crumpled piece of paper out of her pocket. Holding it out to him to take. Which he did, carefully, smoothing it out to make sense of the scribbles he could see written on it.

It was a letter from her dad. Short and sweet, hardly anything worth getting upset over from what he could tell. Though a line about the dad retiring to the Fern Islands using her hard earned money admittedly rubbed him the wrong way.

"Uh...?" He didn't know what to say, handing the paper back to her with a quizzical expression. She sighed again.

"I have been begging him to come see the farm, to come see me, for weeks. But Kaiden has peewee gridball practice or JJ has a band recital or Debbie needed another couples' getaway, so it's always 'next time, next time, next time.' Good to know he's sooo impressed with my progress and expects me to pay for his retirement, though, I guess. Thanks a fucking lot, dad."

She crumpled the letter up again and chucked it into the dark with an angry grunt, letting out a laugh when the dog ran after it and gleefully ripped it to shreds.

"You call your mom by her first name?" He cringed as soon as the question left his mouth. Really, Shane? She's upset and that's what you focus on? Fuck's sake.

"What?" She gave him a bewildered look. "No. No, Debbie's my stepmom. Her and dad's kids are my half-brothers."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"...I'm still waiting to hear the stupid part." He said gently, daring to sit on the step next to her and putting them in close proximity again. And again she didn't flinch away from him, just scoot over a little to give him room.

"It's stupid to get my feelings hurt over a pattern of behavior I'm well aware of. I thought that, maybe, he'd be more interested in this place since Grandpa Miller was his dad and all. But nah. His new family is still the center of his universe and I'm only a blip on the radar when it's convenient." She shrugged like it didn't bother her, but he could see the way her jaw clenched and hear the way her voice wobbled. This was some deep rooted hurt. "Sorry. This is why I was a hermit today. No one wants to hear me whinge like an angsty teen because 'daddy doesn't love me'."

"You kidding? The old biddies back in town would kill to hear this kind of juicy family drama." He teased, pleased with himself when she laughed. Once again using humor to deal with the tough shit.

"Guess you'll have a good story to tell them then. Congrats." She grinned back at him, rolling her eyes good naturedly.

"Oh, yeah. You know me, biggest blabbermouth in Pelican Town. All your secrets traded away for the low, low price of cheap beer and spicy bar pretzels~."

She laughed again, throwing her head back and leaning against him for support. For some reason, the little gesture made his chest feel tight again, but in a good way? Weird.

"Well, I don't have spicy pretzels, but can I pay you in beer not to go blabbing my dumb family bullshit to everyone?" She waggled her eyebrows at him and smirked, whispering like they were making some kind of shady deal. He couldn't help but laugh at the silliness of it all.

"You drive a hard bargain, but I think I can agree to those terms." He held out his hand for her to shake, mirroring her smirk. She took his hand without hesitation and giggled, giving it a firm shake before using him as leverage to push herself to standing. Quickly disappearing into the farmhouse and leaving him alone with his thoughts.

He should leave. He had only wanted to make sure she was okay and head back. She was okay, physically anyway, just wanted to be left alone. He should leave. But she was offering him free beer...and honestly he preferred her company over everyone probably still gossiping about her in the Saloon. But did she want him to stay? Why would she? Half of the damn town was in love with her, all of them so much better than him, surely she'd prefer to be with anyone else than a miserable asshole. He should leave..

An amber colored glass bottle suddenly entering his line of sight startled him back to reality, blinking and looking up to where it had come from. She had returned without him realizing, holding out what he assumed was the beer she had promised while leaning over him. She'd let her hair down again, dark locks flowing over her shoulder in a curtain. The porch light illuminating her from behind like a halo, and she was smiling. At him. Seemingly content with their close proximity to each other. It honestly made his breath catch in his throat, and again he didn't understand why his body was acting this way.

"You good there, bud?" She chuckled, surely realizing he was gawking at her at the same moment he did. Mouth opening and closing wordlessly like a dying fish as he took the bottle from her.

"Uh. Yeah. Just spaced out a minute. Sorry." He cleared his throat awkwardly, grateful that the beer was already open so he could take a swig to distract himself. Surprised when it tasted much better than the cheap swill JojaMart was selling, and even more surprised when he went to check the label, only to see there wasn't one. "Where did you get this? I don't recognize the, uh, lack of brand."

"Oh. Um, I made it." She said shyly, sitting next to him on the step and looking into her own bottle. "Sorry, I brewed it. I think that's the right term."

He blinked. "What?"

"I brewed it." She repeated, her voice even quieter. "Turns out Grandpa Miller had a little brewery in the cellar, including actually really detailed instructions on how to, y'know, brew stuff. Beer, ale, wine, mead, et cetera. So, I figured I'd give it a shot. And when...if my dad came to visit, we could celebrate the farm's success with a few beers made from wheat from the farm. But, you already know how that story ends.."

He could feel himself doing a dying fish impression again, trying to process what she had told him. This woman went out of her way to learn how to brew her own beer for her dad, who has clearly never made his daughter a priority a day in her life. Beer that he was now drinking because she was gracious enough to share. Gracious enough to tell him all this to begin with.

"Miller, you're incredible." The words fell out of his mouth before he could stop them, soft and earnest.

She spluttered and giggled at the sudden praise, seemingly torn between hiding behind her hair and tucking it behind her ear, pale face very noticeably turning red. It was cute, she was cute. How had he not noticed that before?

"Shut up. You're just saying that 'cause I'm bribing you with beer." She pushed at him playfully, still frazzled by his compliment. He made a mock offended gasp and pushed her back, hiding a grin behind taking another swig of beer.

"I'm serious." He assured her. "And if your dad doesn't realize that, he's a brain dead moron."

Her expression softened at that, eyes suddenly shiny with what looked like unshed tears. A watery little laugh escaping her before she took a drink of her own beer.

"I...thank you, Shane." She said quietly, wiping at her eyes with the heel of her hand. "And thank you for checking on me. Sorry I was so snippy with you before."

He scoffed and gave her a mildly bemused look. "Really? After all the times I've been a dick to you? 'Bout time you threw some it back at me honestly."

"I know, I know. I just...I'm not used to people remembering I exist unless they want something from me, I guess. No one ever just wants me, no one cares about just me. So, when I saw you I made an assumption, and I was wrong. So, I'm sorry." Her posture sunk and she curled into herself a little, fingernails tapping against the glass bottle.

Well, fuck. No wonder she always seemed so eager to help out everyone in town, including him. She didn't think she existed unless she was being useful. The idea of that broke his heart, which he didn't think was still possible.

"How many beers do I owe you not to tell anyone that?" She piped up again before he could respond, looking to him with a weak little smile. Obviously taking a page from his playbook and joking to lighten the mood. He chuckled softly, pretending to mull over a decision while tapping his chin.

"How many you got?" He eventually grinned, holding up his almost empty bottle.

They ended up drinking through her entire stash, sitting on the porch and talking for what must have been hours about...well, about a lot of things. She told him more about her dad, who never really tried to bond with her because she was a girl, and he couldn't figure out how to "relate" to a daughter. About her controlling mother, who cut contact with her when she quit her secure job to move to the uncertainty of Pelican Town. Clearly waiting for her to fail and come crawling back to the mom's "good graces". He, in turn, told her he hasn't spoken to either of his parents since he moved out almost two decades ago and was all the better for it. Not that he had much of a relationship with either of them to begin with. Toasting to the hope they didn't turn out like their parents.

She told him that before she was a data entry clerk for Joja, she was on track to becoming a professional ballerina. Until her achilles tendon snapped in the middle of a recital, effectively killing her mother's dream to live vicariously through her. So he told her of his varsity gridball days, how his dream of going pro was crushed when he tore his ACL during practice. She showed him the scar running up her heel, he showed her the scar running down his knee, and they laughed at an alternate universe where they'd be retiring from their lucrative professions by now. Toasting to knowing when it was going to rain before the weatherman because of joint pain.

They talked about music, about movies, about tattoos, about their animals, about anything they could think of until eventually petering out into a comfortable silence. One she broke after a long moment with a soft laugh.

"What?" He glanced at her curiously.

"Nothing. It's just...you're really easy to talk to when you're not being a complete asshole." She grinned, tongue poking out between her teeth to show she was teasing. He laughed, shoving at her playfully and pulling her back when he almost pushed her off the step by mistake.

"Well, you're really easy to talk to when you're not being the town kiss ass." He countered with an equally playful smirk, earning a laugh from her in return.

"Okay, fair. I deserve that."

She was still giggling as she polished off her drink, swaying a little where she sat and clearly intoxicated at this point, much to his amusement. Before she suddenly leaned into his space, close enough he could feel her warm breath fan across his skin. His own breath seeming to get caught somewhere in his sternum, body frozen in place.

"Did you know...when you smile, it's like your eyes light up and I can see how green they are. I never noticed before, but it's real obvious when we're close like this. S'pretty shade of green, too.." She relayed this to him in a hushed tone, almost in awe of this "revelation". He felt his stomach do a somersault and a blush creep across his face and neck like a wildfire. He and the word "pretty" had never been used in the same sentence, especially not from the mouth of someone like her. He didn't know how to deal with it.

"Oh Yoba, you are drunk. I think it's time to cut you off for the night." He huffed out an awkward laugh, scrambling to his feet and almost tripping over himself in the process. Brain screaming at him to run away again. Coward. Feeling like an absolute jerk when her expression fell into a panicked one.

"Oh. Oh shit, I'm sorry. That was weird, huh? I'm so sorry, I just said that without thinking. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. Fuck. I'm sorry." The words tumbling out so fast they almost blurred together, desperate to apologize for the perceived slight.

"Hey, hey. Relax. It's not you, alright? Me and compliments just don't mix. S'not your fault, okay? Promise." Using the same gentle tone he would when Jas needed comfort after a bad dream, one meant to soothe fears.

Thankfully, she did relax a little, the worried crease in her brow smoothing out. Looking between him and the house a moment before sighing.

"We probably should call it a night, though.." she frowned, almost sounding disappointed. But that was almost certainly just wishful thinking on his part. "It's getting late, I didn't mean to keep you so long. I know Fridays at the Stardrop are a town tradition, and I'm sure Emily's wondering where you went."

"Aaah, she's so busy tending to everyone else, she probably didn't notice I slipped out. Besides..." He rubbed the back of his neck and kicked at a pebble in the dirt, feeling a bit bashful all the sudden. "I had a good time talking and drinking with you."

Her face lit up at that, practically beaming at him before looking away again. Actually twirling her hair around her finger like girls do in the movies, but it was endearing when she did it somehow. "Yeah? Me, too. This was nice. Definitely made a shitty day a lot better."

That shouldn't have made him as happy as it did, but he couldn't deny the warmth spreading through his chest at the idea that he had made her day better just by being there. Her happiness was infectious, he supposed. No other reason for it.

The good feeling was quickly snuffed by the realization of how far he was going to have to walk to get home. All the way back into town, down past the Saloon, past Emily's house, past Sam's house down the path that finally lead to Aunt Marnie's house. Buh.

"You know you can just cut through my farm, right? It's much faster." She piped up again, startling him. Was she a mind reader?? Or was he talking out loud without realizing?

"Oh. Uh. You sure? If my aunt sees me, she'll know I was here and probably tell her whole aerobics class." Already cringing at what stories could be spun up by a bunch of women with nothing better to do than speculate on someone's (nonexistent) love life. She deserved better than to have her reputation hitched to someone like him.

"Eh, let 'em talk. They're gonna do it anyway." She shooed the idea away dismissively, getting to her feet with a groan and meeting him where he stood. "Here. Gimme your hand."

He complied, confused, watching her take off the glowing ring she was wearing and easily slip it onto his middle finger. Feeling heat prickle up the back of his neck as she continued to hold his hand and meet his eyes with a little smile.

"It's pretty dark that way. Wouldn't want you getting hurt tripping over something. Or have you fall in a well." Her tone light and teasing, using something he had said earlier back at him. Seemingly unaware of the affect she was having on him as she absentmindedly stroked the back of his hand with her thumb. He swallowed thickly, mouth suddenly dry, carefully (reluctantly) removing his hand from hers to focus on the ring giving off an absurd amount of light for being so small.

"Don't you...don't you need this, though?" He asked hoarsely, scarcely able to hear himself over his heart doing acrobatics in his chest.

"Well, I'm going to see you tomorrow, aren't I?" She arched an eyebrow at him, an amused smirk gracing her lips.

"Are you?" Had they made plans and he'd already forgotten? Focus! Stop staring at her mouth!

"Unless you suddenly don't live with Marnie anymore. I already told you I owe her some vegetables, and I was gonna drop them off first thing in the morning. Figured I'd get the ring back from you then."

Ah. Of course. She was being "helpful", and he just happened to live where she already had plans of going. It wasn't like she was going out of her way just to see him. That would be ridiculous.

"Right. Yeah, for sure. Guess I'll see you later then." He mumbled, flexing his fingers as if to shake off the lingering feeling of her hand on his. It didn't help.

"Or I can just walk you home?" She offered, tilting her head at him. "Save you the trouble of worrying about if I need the ring or not."

"And have you walk your drunk ass all the way back by yourself? Nuh uh. Don't worry about it. You gotta come by the house anyway, I'll see you tomorrow."

He gave a little nod and turned to leave, only to be stopped by her grabbing the elbow of his jacket sleeve. Swiveling around to glance over his shoulder and give her a quizzical look. She was chewing on her lower lip, eyes downcast but still holding onto his sleeve. And maybe it was just a trick of the light, but he could swear her face was flushed again.

"I wanted to...I wanted to thank you again for tonight." She said softly, the barest hint of a wobble in her voice. Releasing his jacket to tuck her hair behind her ear again. "I really did have a good time. And, um, and couldn't let you leave without saying 'good night'. So, good night, Shane."

"Good night, Katherine." He breathed out a quiet laugh, warmth spreading through his chest again. Putting his hands in his pockets (which didn't muffle the ring's light at all somehow) and beginning the much shorter trek home for real this time, smiling to himself as he walked past a patch of fairy roses growing. He'd have to tell Jas about that, and about the fact "Miss Kat" used to be a ballerina when she was Jas's age.

He could feel himself walking briskly, finding he suddenly didn't care if Aunt Marnie caught him walking from the direction of the old farmhouse. So what if she told people? Would it be the worst thing in the world if people assumed something happened? Not really. And, if he thought about it, he almost wanted to get caught. Wanted people to know everyone's favorite farmer spent time with him. Alone.

Huh.

That...that was an interesting feeling. One he did not have the mental bandwidth to deal with tonight. That was a problem for tomorrow Shane. Or next week Shane.

Or never. Never was preferable. He was too old to be feeling...whatever the hell this was. And it didn't matter anyway. They had just talked, that was all it was.

That was all it'd ever be.

[princessfoxington]

Merry Christmas Sinsmas Everyone!

Spoilers under read more! Don't click unless you've seen the episode.

Blitz... You and you're fucking horses.... I love you though.

I still don't get why all the other imps are shit talking and dirty eyeing Stolas. Giving him the stink eye, spitting in his food, you imps don't understand like us Helluva Boss fans do!!!

This was the first time I.M.P choose not to kill a target, and I think they did the right thing. It's wrong to cheat on someone, But in this case, the man kinda had a good reason to.

Stolas might start working for I.M.P in season 3; As we were all expecting to happen.

Karen go YEET!

Octavia finally getting a song of her own! The song (I Will Be Okay) apparently was written the same time as (You Will Be Okay) from season 1 episode 2. Which means the song was in the safety vault for like 2 or 3 maybe 4 years?

The relationship between Stolas and Blitz has finally been resolved into the true love we've all been wanting them to have. No longer sexmates, Now they are soulmates! They do truly love eachother for how they are.

I bet you season 3 is going to have three major story arcs: Stolas's relationship with his daughter Octavia, Blitz with his sister Barbie Wire, And Millie eventually have to tell Moxie that she's-

PREGNANT!!! WE NEVER EVEN THOUGHT ABOUT IT OR SAW IT COMING!!! WHAT WILL THIS DO TO M+M!!! WILL MILLIE HAVE TO QUIT I.M.P? WILL MOXIE BE HAPPY TO LEARN HE WILL BE A FATHER? OR WILL IT BE THE OPPOSITE?

This is a dark thought, but with Millie's fighting skills and her troublemaking habits (especially on the job), would that make it a likely chance that she could have a miscarriage? I don't think it will happen, I'm just worried about her.

I CAN BE WORRIED ABOUT A FICTIONAL CHARACTER! SO WHAT?!?!

"HEY ELSA!" I can't believe bro got away with that!

LOONA HAS A FUCKING DEMON FORM!!! I DID NOT SEE THAT ONE COMING! I didn't even know hellhounds had that ability. It makes me wonder if imps can do that to.

I wish we could have heard Millie and Sallie May's conversation on the phone. After the short with the two of them hanging out together and us getting to know more about their relationship, it makes since that the first person Mills would talk to about her pregnancy is her sister.

I can see Sallie may as a very understanding and comforting supporter, and I can't see her spilling the beans to the rest of the family. Maybe the SpindleHorse crew didn't have time to, but I still wish we could have at least known what Sallie May said.

I can't wait to see wait crazy bullshit will go down in the next season when it eventually releases in maybe 2025 or 2026. Because, the crew is also working in Hazbin Hotel seasons 2, 3 and 4 at the same time. The longer it takes, the better the show will be! So, I shall be patient.....................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!

[fluffypotatey]

Hello hello, S5 ep 9 let's-a-go! Warning, this one is BRUTAL. QXT: Macaque, what are you doing! M: Xiaotian, stop! You don’t need to do this. QXT: I do need to do this! M: I did tell you before to make your own choices, but this isn’t the way Xiaotian! QXT: You don’t understand. If I don’t do this, everyone will be done for! Everything will be destroyed! M: It doesn’t always have to be you! There’s always another way! QXT: But this is the only way! M: That’s not true. You don’t get it! Nines: Who says…*interrupts/traps* ...he doesn’t get it? Not bad. Who taught you that trick? Who did you make a deal with? M: What deal? Nines: Well, that’s not important. Everything’s ending soon anyways. The Harbinger of Chaos knows his mission. Only by sacrificing himself will you all be able to live. Nines is a real piece of work, making it seem like MK has a choice. That he doesn't care what he does, okay bud. Says that he's tired of being controlled by others LOL. Oh, the irony is enough to make this EP taste metallic. Tired of humans locking themselves in cages, ignoring chaos and destiny, etc. The quiet, seething way Macky asks "what deal?" almost seems guarded. Haha, perhaps he knows. MK saying "not this time" feels like a parallel to another episode, but I can't put my finger on it. Maybe something Wukong said? Yeah, that sounds right. "Sorry bud. Not this time." Yeah, S3 no? Wasn't there something like that?SWK: Xiaotian, no! Macky, watching this: *sighs* Even if this doesn’t work, I still gotta give it a shot. HELLO SIR YOU TOTALLY KNOW WHAT IS UP WITH YOUR WEIRD POWERS HUH? I'm skipping some parts, mostly the gang and Nine bc this ep is loaded, but note the way Mac's shadows infiltrate and surround the midsection where the power core usually is. SWK: Huh? What? My boi just turned himself into a shadowy nuclear bomb. I don’t like his prospects for the next season. Nines: You- what did you do? Why have I been separated from the chaos? I- I can’t feel it anymore! What did you do?! *screams lungs out as Macky gasps for breath on the ground.* HELLO MACKY IS MY POWER STEALING HC TRUE???? AYOOOOO Nine's is really flipping here, voice going all glitchy, robotic and echo-y. SWK: Macaque, you good? M: What are you waiting for? Stop Xiaotian! It's all about the tentative way Wukong steps forward and asks and Macky is clearly unwell...Is it worse or better than he was down for longer after fighting possessed!Wukong so we couldn't see his half-lidded eyes/struggle for air. He got himself up in the background of the SunBurst hug in a way that could be memed, but this? Nope. I brought it up bc I wanted to see if possessed!Wukong was holding back bc someone said he was re: laser eyes, maybe they meant him not using it until that fight, or the slow way(?) it charged up bc some part of him didn't want to kill Macky, idk. SWK: I won’t let you sacrifice yourself! QXT: Don’t stand in my way, Monkey King. Please. SWK: Not a chance, Xiaotian. You never abandoned me, and I won’t ever abandon you. QXT: Don’t force my hand, Monkey King. EVILLLLLL. JUST LIKE WUKONG SAID TO MACAQUE- don’t make me do this, Liu’er! SWK: No, Xiaotian. Don’t force mine. DOUBLE EVIL OH MY GOSH HE SAID THE THING AND HIS EYES WENT BRIGHT GOLD HE MEANS BUSINESS. They gave us serious scary Wukong FR.

I’m starting to see how things so easily went wrong for Macky. Wukong does NOT play around, even if you’re MK. Seeing him use the same spell LBD used to trap Macky on top of all this is making me LOSE IT.

QXT: No! No! SWK: There is still a lot I haven't taught you yet. QXT: Monkey King, please! This is my destiny! This is the only way! Let me just say I HATE the expressions Wukong has been making this entire episode. They're ruining me. This one too. SWK: Yes. You're right. It seems like this really is the only way to save everyone. QXT: Then- Then let me go! SWK: Nuwa, or destiny. No matter how you look at it, as long as we came from the same stone... QXT: What? SWK: You don't have to bear this destiny. Let me bear it. QXT: No! Monkey King! SWK: This world needs you, Xiaotian. Thanks...for everything. QXT: Monkey King! Stop, please! THE DRAMA FLUFFY THE DRAMA-! AND WUKONG IS CRYING AS HE FLIES AWAY- and then MK USES THE FREAKING SPELL. I swear everybody is trying to hurt each other and squabbling for the right of who gets to sacrifice themselves first and I'm FLIPPING. WHAT IS THIS?!?!?! This is what happens when you put two sacrificial morons with personal issues in a room together. SWK: No! Xiaotian! No! No! Stop Xiaotian! QXT: I'm sorry. I will be the one to bear my destiny. SWK: Stop! Don't Xiaotian! So anyways, Fluffs. We had all this angsty audio about Wukong crying/yelling if MK got hurt taken from Goku...and now we have to HEAR IT FOR REAL. And like, his VA is seriously good and I think I'll be crying for months if I heard that. I'm going to be crying to YOU about it and that is a threat. We'll cry together. I can kind of see Buddhist influence here since the cycle of reincarnation, while normal here for the characters, is actually the goal to "escape from." So to MK, it's not a good thing. Asides from how much angst Wukong gets from it. You would think it'd be like "oh I get to meet my friends in the next life" but nada, MK here is shook by it. Tho maybe it's because it's not natural, letting them live out to the end, but forcing it early?

OH MY GOD EPISODE 9

I TOOK ALL THE SUNBURST DUO SCREENSHOTS THAT MADE ME FERAL

like…..HELLO?????? 911?????? THERE’S BEEN A MURDER

AND THE FUCKING EXPRESSION BEFORE THE FIGHT🫠🫠🫠🫠 I AM SOBBING

[forgive me for the bad quality 🤧]

AND SWK SO READY TO TAKE MK’S OLAXE BECAUSE “hey, we’re from the same stone, so this destiny of yours should also be tied to me” AND WHAT IF I DIED???? WHAT IF THIS DIALOGUE STABBED ME???? LMK ANSWER FOR YOUR CRIMES

and the way Macky mourned Wukong privately while everyone else cried for MK (bc they assumed the Pillar repairing itsel meant swk failed) since he knew the Monkey King would try to take MK’s place i— 🫠

also Pigsy trying to change MK’s mind and when that didn’t work:

SOMEBODY SEDATE ME 😭

THATS HIS SON!!!! THATS HIS LITTLE BOY WHO LOVES NOODLES AND SUCKS AT DELIVERING THEM AND SPENDS MOST IF HIS WORK HOURS LISTENING TI TABG’S STORIES BUT PIGSY WOULDNT HAVE IT ANY OTHER WAY

🫠

also i think @/lunarwandering mentioned this in a post of theirs but Nines is so confusing lmaooooo like bro 🤨 do you or do you not want MK to sacrifice himself???? “i am giving you the choice he free!!! but i will also make sure to stop your friends from stopping me and you from operation Commit Die!”

the way he snaps at being called a monster 👀 Nines please share in a way that isn’t the Allegory of the Cave (like sir, that is Greek Philosophy come on) (tho interesting that the borders of the “cave” from ep8 looked like Nuwa 👀

ans Nines clearly has some beef with Nuwa 👀 so. what’s up with that)

i have so many questions about Nines