#he’s either manic and emotionless

[kanansdume]

What's crazy and really shows off how impeccably awful this show managed to be is how DIFFERENT Anakin feels between the Kenobi show and the Ahsoka show, despite the fact that he's being played by the same actor probably within a year of each other if that.

And it's so clearly not the fault of the performer, Hayden Christensen is doing the absolute MOST to give an authentic and familiar performance of Anakin in the Ahsoka show and on a STRICTLY acting standpoint, I think he succeeds. People have pointed out that the Anakin that Hayden is playing in the flashbacks, despite being in the TCW costumes, does not at all feel like TCW Anakin. There's nothing suave or charming about him. When he tries to joke and Ahsoka pushes back against it, he immediately gets defensive, which is perhaps one of the most in-characters thing about the entire performance. And obviously his performance as Sith Anakin is pure perfection.

But it's not just the performance that creates a character. It's the way other people discuss the character, it's the way that character impacts the world around them, it's what we as the audience are allowed to see of them.

In the Obi-Wan show, Anakin at his best is still a whiny little asshole. In the flashback scene, he's arrogant, he's overconfident, he's a little bit of a bully, he's stubborn, and he's a sore loser. It's left a little ambiguous as to whether this scene was a true flashback or something Else, but the dialogue of the scene and who is currently "winning" the match clearly are intended to parallel what's going on in the actual plot between Obi-Wan and Anakin. Which means you can just as easily interpret this as saying that the whiny little asshole you remember from the prequels is still the person behind that mask. Yes, he's got a vocoder changing his voice into something more menacing, his expressions hidden behind an emotionless mask, but that whiny teenager is still calling the shots here. That's precisely what motivates him. Even if it's intended as a more legitimate flashback, that's supposed to be Anakin at his BEST and he's... whiny. He's arrogant. You can say he can grow out of it at this point and that's clearly what Obi-Wan believes in the moment, but the best he's got is... still this.

And he never grew out of it, he never left that arrogance and entitlement behind. He decided to let it define him instead. He might've had promise if he'd chosen to outgrow his more negative traits, but he didn't. He just stayed forever in the mindset of that annoying little 19 year old asshole.

And at his worst, Anakin's a literal unhinged MONSTER. He's casually walking by and murdering innocents just to get Obi-Wan's attention, he's stabbing Reva just because he can, he's ripping open ships, he's burning Obi-Wan alive out of vengeance. His face when that mask comes off has a manic GLEE as he talks about having "killed" himself just to try to manipulate Obi-Wan and the way he screams Obi-Wan's name at the end is so intensely disturbing. So many people saw that moment as Anakin having this moment of mindfulness, but I didn't see or hear a single sane moment in the entire scene. The whole thing is off-kilter and it feels pretty intentionally off-kilter, both in the writing and the acting and directing. Anakin's made his choice. This is it.

In the Kenobi show, Anakin might've once had promise. But he also had immense potential for monstrous evil, that was ALSO there as well. And whatever promise used to be there is now squandered in favor of the arrogance and cruelty and entitlement, which means that it's not worth Obi-Wan's time and effort and energy continuing to wonder what if about it. Because, quite honestly, it doesn't MATTER. Obi-Wan isn't fighting for Anakin anymore by the end. He's not fighting to destroy Anakin, but he's not fighting to save him, either. And the whole point of his relationships with Luke and Leia is that he has to learn to care about them for who THEY are rather than because he cared about their biological parents. He has to see them for who they've become and allow them to grow without worrying about how much like Anakin or Padme they might end up being. They're not Anakin and Padme, they're Luke and Leia, and his relationship with them is ultimately better for letting go of seeing them as anything other than who they actually are.

The people who were in charge of the Kenobi show clearly understood that in order for Obi-Wan to stand on his own as a main character of his own story, they needed to clearly differentiate him from Anakin and FREE him from Anakin. Yes, Obi-Wan is built to be Anakin's narrative foil and has been since day 1. Yes, Obi-Wan's story is very tied up in Anakin's. But this was OBI-WAN'S story and just for this one moment, they could let Obi-Wan be more than just someone who revolves around Anakin. He's his own person who makes his own connections and relationships that have nothing to do with Anakin and he only truly starts to feel like himself again when he walks away from Anakin and leaves him behind and accepts that Anakin has chosen to be someone that Obi-Wan cannot change. No one writing the Kenobi show wanted Obi-Wan to be more IMPORTANT to the narrative than Anakin, but they were able to allow Anakin to take a back seat so that Obi-Wan could actually grow and develop into his own character.

The same cannot be said for the Ahsoka show.

In the Ahsoka show, Anakin is portrayed IMMENSELY positively. At his best, Anakin is a wise powerful sage watching over someone he cares about and pushing her to be better. At his worst, he's... pushing her a little? They MENTION he's intense, and we see visions of him as a Sith, sure, but if that was Anakin at all, then it leaves you with the impression that he only pushed Ahsoka because he cared about her and she needed it and he was ultimately right to do so anyway. Was it tough? I guess, but nothing that would ultimately truly hurt her at all. Anakin's worst sins aren't touched on at all. Anakin is constantly remembered as someone who was GOOD without really acknowledging that while he might've been good at times, he wasn't always. Even when Ahsoka remembers him as a good master, he was still someone who believed in fascism and had massacred an entire village down to the last child. That person Ahsoka remembers was still a bad person and this show desperately wants you to forget that any of that is true about him.

And via proxies like Sabine and Ahsoka herself, this show DEFENDS Anakin's choices across the board. It's not even just that he was a good master, but that he ultimately did the RIGHT THING by choosing Padme over the galaxy because he did it out of "love," turning the genocide of the Jedi into something that was caused by their OWN failures instead of Anakin's failures.

There's zero recognition that Anakin was, ultimately, a failure. He was a failure as a Jedi, a failure as a master, a failure as a husband and a father, and a failure just as a generally good person. Anakin was a bad person who did bad things. Maybe he wasn't always, maybe he had his moments, fine, but overall? What's the legacy he leaves? What are people going to truly remember him for most? Despite his choice to save Luke in his last moments, his impact upon the galaxy is still a net negative.

And Ahsoka can have good memories of him and still recognize that Anakin's impact upon the galaxy was a bad one. She can choose to focus on the good memories she has without pretending like he was in actuality a good master who did nothing wrong. It's not like those two things can't co-exist and that is, in essence, exactly what Obi-Wan has to do. It's why he can say honestly and genuinely tell Leia at the end of the show that her father was "passionate, fearless, and forthright" even though just a day or so ago he'd accepted that Anakin himself had chosen to be an evil person now. He can remember Anakin as the friend he'd cared for AND recognize that the person Anakin is now is not that person anymore. Anakin NOW is evil, Anakin NOW doesn't deserve Obi-Wan's time or focus or grief, Anakin NOW needs to just be let go of. They aren't two separate people, obviously, but people do grow and change, and Obi-Wan once loved Anakin, but the boy Obi-Wan loved is gone because Anakin has chosen not to be that kind of person anymore. He's not kind, he's not compassionate, he's not merciful, or thoughtful or any of the good qualities he used to have. The Kenobi show forces both Obi-Wan and the audience to recognize that no matter how good someone might once have been, it's important to recognize when they're not acting like that person anymore and it's better to let them go and walk away.

And the reason Ahsoka can't do that is because the writers can't. The people in charge of writing Anakin in this show see him so differently than the people who wrote Kenobi. The the writers of the Ahsoka show, Anakin is "the greatest of all of the Jedi," not even just for raw power reasons, but because he understood what love was all about and felt it so deeply. So instead of that love twisting him and being in so many ways his greatest flaw, it turned into his greatest strength, something the Jedi just didn't understand. They're coming at Anakin from a WILDLY opposite direction here and so the way he gets depicted and spoken about comes across so unnervingly different.

You CAN see it as Ahsoka just... viewing Anakin differently. Obi-Wan knew Anakin as a child and was a Jedi Master before the betrayal, so he is more capable of viewing Anakin as the whole of what he was and letting him go. Whereas Ahsoka was a lot younger, she barely got any training before the betrayal, so her perspective on him is intensely skewed by this. She can't truly conceive of Anakin as both the good master she remembers AND the nightmare monster she knows he became, so she just... picks one. She chooses to see him as a good master and that's it. Nothing else he ever did matters. She never has to think about the genocide, the murders, the enslavement, the betrayals. He was a good master, and that's the end of the story. This is the best way she can learn to cope with this particular trauma is to just... ignore it and decide it didn't happen and so her version of Anakin is the ONLY version of Anakin.

But the narrative itself sort-of presents this as the honest truth of Anakin rather than just Ahsoka's perspective on the matter. It's not that Ahsoka just can't cope any other way, it's that this is, legitimately, who Anakin was. Anakin WAS a good master and the fact that he abandoned Ahsoka to die and tried to kill her and genocided her people and desecrated her home apparently doesn't change that at all. Because he did all of it for love. And the fact that Anakin was the "greatest of all the Jedi" because of this means that Ahsoka gets exalted even more so because of that.

But Obi-Wan doesn't need that. He doesn't need to be exalted as better than everyone else, he doesn't need to be made important by manipulating the narrative. He already IS important and the people writing his story know that. He's not important because he's better than Anakin, he's important just because he is. He's baked into this story and can't be removed from it without completely undoing it and telling a totally new story. Obi-Wan and Ahsoka are, in some ways, total opposites. Obi-Wan is a massively important character to the narrative who's never been the main character of his own story before the Kenobi show, while Ahsoka spent a long time as the main character of her story but has never and will never be that important to the narrative. She can be added to it and give some extra dimension to it, but she can be pretty easily removed from it, too.

And their relationships to Anakin in their respective shows seem to reflect the way the writers feel about those facts and their understanding of the characters themselves.

[anxiousdreamcore]

I saw that recent post you made writing out how you view all the Avatar characters, and in it, you mentioned that your opinion of the characters has changed a lot in the past year and a half (I can't believe it's been that long since ATWOW!)

So how did your opinion of the characters change and why? Who changed the most radically? I'd love to hear your thought process!

Warning: yapping ahead

My opinion changed as I began consuming content from different people in the fanbase, as I sadly started out my journey relegated to mostly the recom side of the fandom.

A very specific vision I’ve formed was one of him and Neytiri. Her and Spider are two individuals forced to be close by circumstance, and not necessarily liking each other but they’re known each other for so long that they know each other, you know? The way I see it, they can’t pretend to be strangers, and their argument in the high ground comics, which is the only time any of the children oppose Neytiri makes me think that this is the dynamic going on between them.

Being a Spider fan outside of the recom space was a horrible experience for many of my mutuals, and I heard from more than one person that just liking the character earned them death threats, so I kept to the only space where he was actually liked, which uh…may or may not have been a bit of an echo chamber.

First months after ATWOW came out the opinions were extremely polarising and there was little depth to go around. I realised later on though, I didn’t have to pick a side and didn’t have to force myself to forgive Quaritch, because I never wanted to. I didn’t have to see him as either a 🥺baby gworl🥺 or an emotionless monstrosity.

As I said before, the essays made by Quaritch fans sold me at first. They seemed to provide a lot of proof and I was on board with the identity crisis theory, but as time went on I believed it less and less. Looking at the movie with fresh eyes months later, I formed and opinion of my own and that is — That recom Quaritch is an amalgamation of his past self and the Na’vi instincts/perspective of his new body. He’s a fucked up soup that is, in a way, different than his human predecessor but not different enough to be considered a wholly separate creature. If human Quaritch was a dying garden then recom Quaritch is that same garden decayed to the core, with one single flower emerging amongst the rot, not yet consumed by it. (That flower being his fatherhood obv)

I went from seeing him as a man perhaps capable of redemption and seeing value in Pandora, to a man who, while not enjoying violence per ce, obviously doesn’t give much of a damn about the moon or its habitat or its many cultures. All that matters to Quaritch is that these things matter to his son, so he’ll entertain them and go easy on the destruction, just for him. He doesn’t yet accept Pandora, not fully, but he accepts that Spider does so. That is about his only good quality.

The way I began to see it, Socorro is somewhat his only functioning organ. A breathing lung in an otherwise dead body. Miles hasn’t felt anything but manic happiness and rage for as long as we knew him on screen, and that only changed when he stood in the boy’s presence, constantly challenged by him, and brought out of his comfort zone over and over again. He needs him to be remotely alive and likeable to the audience. He needs him to be something more than a chained army dog.

That brings me to my next point; my other big change in perspective was one of his dynamic with Spider. The more I analysed the franchise the more I came to conclusion that Miles is just an unbearable softie for him, and it was really the deleted scenes and the fact that Spider has a new bow in the ikran taming scene that sold me. He not just likes Spider, he loves him, to death. His sacrifices might not seem sufficient, but for his character, they‘re very much drastic, as Miles is traditionally not a loving person.

Quaritch is canonically a traitor to the RDA because he jeopardised his mission three times in a row, all for a single child. His inner father and colonel are constantly fighting each other, as he knows what he should be focusing on, but can’t resist being a father; having priorities of his own. He was an old fool who thought he could have his cake and eat it too; make Spider safe and happy and be a colonel at the same time, but in the end he made up his mind on what matters more, and it’s Spider. The way I see it now is; Quaritch is only truly loyal to Spider. He can hate it, but he can’t run from it.

[alldevilsarehere90]

hiii just saw your prompt list, would love some fluff for daryl with 19 and 13 xx

Title: Good enough

Pairing: Daryl x fem reader

Summary: A confrontation in the woods, after you make a almost fatal mistake on a run, doesn’t have the outcome you were expecting.

Word count: 2.6k

Warnings: mentions of walkers, descriptions of disposing of walkers

A/N: Thank you so much for sending me this request, I'm so grateful. Prompts: "Are you always this infuriating?" and "I'll kiss that smile right off your face, just say when." This one got a little angsty, but i kept the ending fluffy. Please enjoy!

This was the third time you'd been out this week, the third time trying to find medical supplies for everyone staying at the prison and meaning, the third time being outside the walls with Daryl.

While the two of you worked incredibly well as a team; being two of the best fighters in your group, your personalities however, seem to clash more and more frequently nowadays. 

With the increased runs meant increased awkward silences, snide comments followed by harsh jabs. 

If you were honest, you didn't know why he angered you so much but something about him really rubbed you up the wrong way but no matter how much time you spent together you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. Equally you had no idea what you’d done to annoy Daryl, your mere presence seemed to irritate him in ways that you could only describe as irrational.

“We’re losing light, we should camp here?” His voice rasped into the silence, pulling you out of your manic thoughts, that were overcoming you more than you’d care to admit.

Glancing around the wooded area, you noted you had a lot of cover, it was as good a place as any but the idea of being this out in the open had your heart spiking. It had been a while since you had slept outside at night without the prison walls and fences surrounding you. You hadn’t expected to get used to that so quickly and yet here you are, panicking about sleeping in the woods, something you had all done more than enough of. You felt pathetic and irritated at yourself, so naturally you aimed that at the closest person to you, which more often than not was him.

“Here? Really?” your arms folded across your chest as you leaned your weight more on one leg and your hip jutting out with attitude, you knew he hated it and yet you couldn't stop yourself.

“Wha’s wrong with it?” He growled, starting on the defensive already. 

“You don’t even want to try and find somewhere…sheltered?”

He stared at you, face unwavering and emotionless. “Na.” And with that he put down his backpack and began setting up camp.

Sucking in a deep breath, willing yourself not to throw a rock at the back of his head, you grumbled, “Fine.” joining him by pulling out your sleeping bag and unravelling it more aggressively than was necessary. 

You helped with the tent as much as you could without feeling like you were a hindrance to him, attempting to ignore his side eye and impatient grunts and once everything was set up, night had truly arrived. 

The darkness swallowed your landscape into a gaping black abyss. You could no longer see most of the surrounding tree’s and the thick black beyond them was suffocating. Possible eyes hiding in those shadows made your chest feel tight and put your nerves on edge.

Daryl started a small fire and with the small amount of light and warmth it brang it eased your fear somewhat, even with it maybe enticing nearby walkers it was a risk you were willing to take. It was not the dead monsters that had fear churning your stomach, it was the living ones.

The silence was as thick as the darkness, that was until Daryl said, “Yer wanna take first watch or yer want me to?”

You didn’t like the idea of either, you knew sleep would elude you but you were worried sitting and staring into the night your mind would play tricks on you, only increasing your fear. And fear made people stupid. You needed to get your head in the game, for your own sake and Daryl’s. A mistake out here could cost you both dearly.

“I’ll do the second shift if you don’t mind.”

He nodded, eyeing you warily. “A’ight.” When he didn’t look away, you shifted uncomfortably on the ground, a twig snapping underneath you making you jump. 

“Listen, what happened back there–”

“We don’t need to do this.” You cut him off, your face flushing from the memory of your earlier raid in the store. Proving your point that a mistake can cost you dearly and today, you not checking thoroughly, you almost paid the price.

He continued staring at you. “I think you should stay home on the next run.”

Instant fury and embarrassment riled up in your chest, burning as it rose, your skin feeling hot all the way up your throat to your hairline. “What?”

“I’ll take Glenn, s’fine. Yer clearly need a break.” he spoke so casually, picking food out of his teeth with a pocket knife.

Your hands shook at your sides, trying to keep some semblance of control you clenched them into fists. “I’m fine, I don’t need a break.” you spoke slowly through gritted teeth.

“Ya do. It ain’t me that almost got bit by a walker today.” He shot at you, his voice low, words suddenly so full of anger, you almost reeled back before your hackles raised in retaliation. 

“That’s fucking life now Daryl, it’s almost everyday we have to deal with that shit, so don’t act like it’s not a regular occurance.” Your voice quivered from trying to contain your red hot outrage, threatening to erupt.

He scoffed, only infuriating you more, “I ain’t ever seen ya come that close to being one of ‘em, so don’t gimme tha shit. If I weren’t there, woulda been it for ya.”

Before you could even process the movement, your legs were lifting you and closing the distance between the two of you. Your fists still balled at your sides, knuckles white from your grip you were unable to release. He was immediately on his feet, eyes fixed on yours.

“Yes, Daryl, I’m aware of that. You’ve saved my life more times than I can count but let’s not forget, it goes both ways.”

“I ain’t ever been as stupid as you were today.”

You flinched, reeling, the sting of his words felt as real as if he had physically slapped you in the face. “Are you always this infuriating? What the fuck is your problem?”

“You dun get it, do ya? If somethin' happens to ya, what the fuck am I supposed to do?”

Your body froze at his sudden honesty, knowing how it sounded but refusing to let yourself believe that was the meaning behind those words. Your muscles relaxed slightly, confusion sating some of the anger that had your body trembling. “You aren’t responsible for me Daryl, no-one’s going to blame you if something happens to me.”

He rubbed his face with the palm of his hand, turning his back on you before spinning right back your way. “I dun give a shit bout what anyone thinks. What am I supposed to do if ya ain’t here no more?” he yelled, eyes still on you but now faltering in their confidence slightly.

You feel yourself gulp, trying to moisten the desert dry throat you have suddenly.

“What the fuck are you on about Daryl? You’d be fine, you don’t need me.” Your hands hung limply at your sides, all anger distinguished, now too distracted at the turn this fight seems to have taken.

“The hell I don’t.” His voice was quiet now as his eyes dropped to the ground, his face a slightly pinker shade than usual. Was he blushing?

You were silent, for the first time ever in a heated exchange with him and for once you had no idea how to respond. No comeback, no smart remark; nothing. You were completely taken aback. Not to mention the insanely loud pounding of your heart in your ears made it hard to concentrate. You wiped your hands on your jeans, realising how clammy they suddenly were.

“Forget it,” he storms off into the tent, leaving you standing alone with nothing but your wild thoughts and frozen limbs. That only lasts a minute before your irritation reared its ugly head again, your feet on autopilot following him in.

“Na-ah, you can’t leave it there.” you said pushing into the tent. "Tell me what the hell you mean."

"Na, nuthin’." He'd sat himself down on his sleeping bag, knees resting in the crooks of his arms.

“No, why the fuck do you care so much, when half the time you can’t stand being around me anyway.” you sat down opposite him, running a hand roughly through your hair, exhausted from today’s earlier events and now this.

He glanced up at you through his messy fringe. “I like being around yer.” he voice was just above a whisper, quite the difference to a few minutes ago. His mood swings were giving you whiplash.

“You could have fooled me.” you stare him down, trying to get a read on him. “Why do you act like you hate me most of the time?”

You watched as he chewed the inside of his mouth nervously, avoiding your eyes again and just shrugged.

You shook your head, “Daryl Dixon, that’s not good enough. I deserve an explanation.”

“That’s just it, yer deserve better, I ain’t good enough to feel the way I do about yer.” He growled.

Realisation hits you like a plank of wood right the face, but disbelief still clouded your judgement. You needed clarity. “And how do you feel, exactly?”

He stood abruptly and so did you in response, his calm mood now vanished. “Yer know how I feel!”

“Actually I don’t, Daryl. I'm good at many things but reading minds is not one of them.”

He turns his back on you, in the small space between you, shoulders slumped defeated. “I dun’ hate ya, never have. M’sorry you thought that.”

You wanted to reach out and touch his shoulder, comfort him, ease his troubled mind but your feet and arms were rooted to the spot, afraid if you moved then this entire conversation would cease to be real. You needed it to be real. You needed to hear what he had to say.

“I’m an idiot for feeling the way I do ‘bout yer, I know that. I’m not good enough for someone like yer. I’ve tried to stop, m’sorry,  I just can’t.”

Your heart felt broken, how can this man see himself this way. It didn’t make a damn bit of sense to you. And right now, in this moment, you realised exactly why he infuriated you so much. 

You had been doing the same thing he had; snapping, arguing every chance you got, disagreeing for the sake of it because you also didn’t feel like you deserved him.

“I don’t want you to stop.” You whispered.

His head slowly lifted, turning towards you, eyes guarded and yet more open than you’d ever seen them. His stare was still cautious, searching your gaze for something. You couldn’t help smiling shyly at him, biting your lower lip with your own nerves. 

He straightened up, steeling his arms by his side and said, “I’ll kiss that smile right off ya face, just say when.”

There was something so vulnerable about the way he said it; with a shaky confidence–that much was obvious–his fingers constantly moving against each other, still chewing the inside of his lip but his feet were planted firmly in front of you, unwavering, even though he probably felt like running as far away from you as he could.

A crack of a twig outside caught both your attention, heads snapping towards the sound. He pulled out his knife and edged towards the opening of the tent, arm across protectively in front of you, keeping you behind him. 

You both recognised the familiar groans of the dead, Daryl’s tense posture relaxed slightly as he stepped outside and lunged forward. You followed quickly behind him, hearing his knife slam into the skull of the closest walker, you lunged at one setting sights for him before it could turn to you, driving your knife into his head and watching his body slump to the floor by your feet. 

Another turned and came for you. Kicking it in the chest, watching it stumble back slamming into the ground before you were on top of it and slamming your knife into his forehead. 

The stench perspiring from them was putrid, a smell that has by now been ingrained in your memory. You blew a big breath out as an attempt to rid your nostrils of it as you stood up heading back towards Daryl who cleared the last two walkers.

He stood with his back to you, surveying the woods, listening in the darkness, the way he held his knife, ready for anything. You watched him and when you were sure there were no more walkers nearby, here he was, clothes covered in walker blood, hair stuck to his face and yet, never looked more perfect. 

You couldn't help the smile that stretched your mouth.

He turned to you and frowned when he saw your face, "yer ok?" 

"When." You replied. 

He frowned for a moment before realising exactly what you meant and what you wanted, he couldn’t look away from you as he took tentative steps in your direction. 

He sheathed his knife and you did the same, when he stopped in front of you, looking down, he hesitantly asked, "Yer sure?”

"When." You enunciated the word slowly, making the corner of his mouth pull up in a one sided smile. He raised a shaky hand to your face, tucking stray strands of hair behind your ears and you instinctively leant into the warmth of his touch as he brought both hands up to cup your face.

Your heart hammered wildly in your chest, forgetting everything, your fear, the walkers, the prison, everything. 

You'd never been this close to him before and you couldn't tear your gaze away from his piercing blue eyes, so scared and unsure, completely opposite to the tough exterior he portrays.

His tongue darted out to wet his lips as he slowly leaned in and met your mouth with his. 

A timid and gentle kiss that you soon melted into. 

Your legs felt weak beneath you, feeling as if you were floating away from this god forsaken world with nothing but him. 

Your hands found solace in his hair, grounding you, using it to pull him closer and deepen the kiss. 

His confidence grew then, exploring your mouth with his, an arm snaking around your waist and bringing you closer, body moulded to his.

You had no idea how long you stayed that way, tender caresses between you, but you knew it wasn't long enough. But you were both sucking in much needed air and grinning somewhat awkwardly at each other.

"So…" you started now your breathing had slowed to a normal pace. "What now?"

"We'll get some rest tonight and as soon as the sun comes up we'll head back with the supplies." He replied quietly.

You couldn't help the amused huff of breath that escaped you. Good to know his confession hadn’t made him any less infuriating.

"Wha?" He questioned, his cheeks darkening in the firelight.

"I meant, what now…for us?"

His eyes darted from you to the fire and back again, suddenly seeming so unsure, "what do you want?"

"I want you." You expressed bluntly. "No more games, no more pretending not to like each other. You and me."

His mouth twitched into a smile as he nodded and closed the small amount of distance between you, running his thumb over your bottom lip and lifting your face up to his with his knuckle under your chin.

"Then I'm yours."

[ardenwritesegos]

The Seer and the Engineer

Dark was used to people barging into their office. Wilford did it all the time. Honestly, it would be strange if someone didn’t. Still, of all egos, they didn’t expect a certain engineer. 

“You got a minute?” Gin asked, head poking through the open door. He almost looked like a child asking for their father. Dark hated when Wilford called the other egos their collective children. Moments like this did nothing to dissuade those comments. 

“Come in,” the creature let out a sigh. They had been working on papers for…who knows how long. They needed a change of pace, even if they wouldn’t admit it. 

“What has brought you in?” Dark could feel the blue soul roll his eyes from within them. He was always frustrated at the entity for treating the others like a business all the time. But that wasn’t the point of this endeavor. The engineer needed something. 

“I was wondering if you could do a…” Gin paused, searching for the right words. 

“Y’know…future-lookey thing,” the words stumbled out of the engineer’s mouth.

“The Host is more equipped for that kind of request,” Dark responded matter-of-factly. 

“Yeah, I know,” Engineer Mark started. 

“That’s why I went to him first,” Dark paused at that. The Host didn’t typically reject a look into the future, no matter his condition. 

“He said ‘it is imperative that the engineer look to Dark for assistance,’” Gin closed his eyes, doing a good impression of the Host’s emotionless narrations. Dark couldn’t resist a laugh through their nose. The amusement vanished in seconds, though, as it typically did. 

“He said you used to be some kind of fortune teller or something,” Dark froze upon hearing this, the red in their aura becoming more prominent. 

“Yes, I was once a seer,” the entity explained. Their hands folded behind their back, a typical method of reigning in emotions. 

“But I haven’t practiced with visions in nearly a century,” the ambient ringing in the room became slightly louder, more noticeable. 

“I would be, what you call, rusty.” 

“I’m sort of desperate, here,” the engineer started. 

“I’ll take whatever I can get,” Dark stared at Gin, silently asking him what he wants to know. 

“I want to find my dad,” Gin responded to the silent question.

“I never knew him, and…” his voice faded for a moment as he looked sadly below him. His mother never spoke about his father, always either changing the subject or dropping the conversation altogether. It’s one thing he envied about his sister, Celci. She actually knew her father. 

“You want a grasp of your identity,” Dark finished.

“Who you truly came from.” the red soul could heavily relate to that feeling. While she knew both her parents, her mother’s magical past was heavily hidden by a strict father who cared for nothing but reputation. 

“Yeah,” Gin nodded. For the first time ever, there was emotion to the being’s voice. 

“All I’m asking is that you try,” he said. 

“If it doesn’t work, I can always bug the Host again,” Gin shrugged, half-jokingly. Something about that eagerness–that willingness to do anything to find the truth–was familiar to Dark. Or rather, it was familiar to the red soul within them. There were only a few seconds of hesitation. 

“Alright, I will make an attempt,” the entity could see the internal celebration in the engineer’s eyes. 

“To start, we will need something transparent.” 

“Right,” Gin replied as he manically rifled through his pockets. 

“Uh, I have it right…” he reached into the final pocket he had, moving his fingers around it until he felt a smooth, glass-like object. 

“Here!” Gin picked up a small, marble-sized orb. 

“Host said this would help.” He handed the sphere to the creature, who took it with a gentle hand. 

“This will do,” the being kept their usual flat face as they held out their hands, palm up. The object sat on top of Dark’s right hand. 

“Now, take my hands,” as they said this, Gin could have sworn he heard a feminine voice layered with the being’s. He followed Dark’s instructions, lightly grabbing the other’s hands. The second their joined hands touched, Gin felt��� something. He didn’t really know how to describe it, aside from a strange, tingling sensation going up his arms. 

“That’s strange,” Dark looked curiously at their linked hands. 

“What?” GIn wanted to be concerned, but the only thing he seemed to feel was relief. They felt this feeling too. That at least meant he wasn’t fully nuts. 

“The connection is typically slowly built,” the being explained. 

“But this one…it took seconds,” while this fact frightened Dark, they couldn’t help but be interested in this. They- no, she was intrigued by the difference and wanted to delve deeper into it. 

“Is that bad?” Dark’s answers only served to confuse Gin further. He was tempted to let go of his hand-hold, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave the creature’s cold hands. It felt as if they were grounding him, holding down and lowering his anxieties. He found his breaths were strangely even, despite the circumstances. 

“No, it’s simply…different,” the creature reassured. To be honest, they didn’t know if it was bad or good, but Gin needed comfort in that moment. 

“Give me a moment to concentrate,” they ordered softly before closing their eyes. They took deep breaths, silently beckoning the truth forward. It came slowly closer, like a scared child, from Gin’s arms. The engineer was more fragile inside than they expected. They could feel the cocky nature of the red soul becoming more prominent. Good, they were in their element. Or at least they felt like they were. Within seconds, Dark felt a jolt in their arms and in their mind. Gin could see their eyes lightly scrunch up. 

“Are you seeing something?” he asked, curious. He wanted to be worried, but that feeling was still being numbed. 

“There is an hourglass, with white sand,” the being’s voice reverberated louder than ever. The feminine voice could be heard clearer than before. 

“But the sand sits still at the top,” they described. 

“It’s not going down, stuck…dormant…” their voice drifted a bit. Gin only got more confused. 

“What does that mean, exactly?” he asked. 

“Make the sand fall and the truth will come to you,” Dark echoed cryptically. Just as fast as it started, the being’s eyes flew open. They quickly settled, releasing their hold on Gin’s hands. 

“What the hell was that?” Gin exclaimed. 

“That made no fucking sense!” 

“Visions tend to be that way,” Dark responded, aura coated in red.

“Especially with a rusty practitioner.” the being could see the panic in the engineer’s eyes, could feel his aura shifting sporadically, could see his breaths getting quicker. It reminded the red soul of her when she started with her practice. 

“Gin,” the entity grasped the frightened man’s shoulders. 

“We will figure this out,” they reassured, warm and nurturing. Their-her aura washed over the engineer. His breaths, once again, were steady and even. 

“How do you do that?” Gin asked, voice soft, drowsy. 

“A matter for another time,” the being’s mouth lifted, slightly amused. 

“Right now, you need some rest,” the two of them walked together to Gin’s room. The red soul kept her attention solely on the engineer until he fell asleep. 

‘Maybe they’re more family than I thought.’ 

Once again, it seemed like the Host knew what he was doing. 

[takeyourcyanide]

Time

(-manga spoilers- this is set during the murder of Joe. It is not entirely manga accurate.)

Summary: Marie is seemingly stood up by Joe. She returns back to the laboratory, only to find Stein hallucinating. She has a terrible feeling about the night as a whole.

- - - - - -

Marie had officially been sitting in this fancy, high-end restaurant for over an hour, waiting for Joe to arrive.

A part of her felt like crying, another part of her felt like punching Joe square in the face, and another part of her felt deeply worried. She had a terrible feeling ruminating within her body.

Joe was not the type of person to ever stand anyone up. Something had to have happened.

Marie began to nervously fidget and glance around the restaurant. A part of her felt humiliated to be seen clearly waiting for someone and clearly being stood up.

She hurried out of the restaurant and back to Stein’s laboratory, fully prepared to rant to Stein about the whole experience. He enjoyed hearing about her romantic escapades anyway. He found them fascinating and entertaining.

She, of course, on the way home, repeatedly messaged and even called Joe numerous times, only to receive no reply.

This worried and horrible feeling left her nearly nauseated.

Once she had made it inside of the laboratory, she noticed that most - if not every - light had been turned off by Stein.

She would’ve rolled her eyes at this, but she was too caught up in her concern to have any sort of incentive to do as such.

She flipped some switches on, searching for her meister.

She decided to walk into his office, having a feeling she’d find him in there.

The stench of cigarette smoke radiated outwards from the office, and not just the typical stale cigarette smoke scent either.

Clearly the man had been smoking religiously in here.

Marie found it in herself to furrow her eyebrows curiously at this, knowing that he had been trying to quit as a way to “fight against his vices,” so to speak, and display strength and motivation.

The pit in her abdomen grew a whole new pit.

There was no way Stein was in good shape.

She finally found him at the very end of the office, tucked away in a corner, just smoking.

His eyes were blown out manically and impossibly wide, seemingly staring at nothing, as he giggled every once in a while to himself.

He wore a rather emotionless expression, sometimes sporting a large and unsettling grin.

He didn’t even look at Marie in acknowledgment.

This night was not good. Something was terribly off about everything. Marie could feel it.

“Stein? Are you all right?” Marie asked quickly, extremely anxious and worried.

Stein nearly jumped up, immediately staring at Marie, cigarette resting in his twitching mouth.

Stein couldn’t decide on a proper and appropriate facial expression. His mind was too… occupied, to say the least. He could not think properly.

“I’m perfectly fine,” Stein rushed out a response. He had this slight tremble to him, Marie noted. Not one of anxiety or fear, but rather… one of some kind of over-excitement. Stein currently resembled both a manic corpse and an incredibly energetic child, impatiently awaiting some kind of treat.

They stood there, awkwardly staring at one another. Marie didn’t know what to do. She didn’t even know what was wrong or what had happened whilst she was gone.

“Stein, please tell me what’s wrong. It’s okay to need some help, dear,”Marie said sweetly, and extremely worriedly, practically trembling herself.

Stein could barely hold back his laughter. There wasn’t a particular reason for his laughter. His body simply began to shake with mirth.

A grin made its way to his face, as he said, “Wrong? But nothing is wrong, Marie. Of course, I recognize that you have no incentive to believe me. I also have no incentive to believe that you were truly on a date just now and not simply relaying every last detail about me to Lord Death and everyone else to use against me.”

Marie was struck simultaneously with confusion and even more concern.

“Stein, that’s just a paranoid thought, I’d never purposefully hurt you. And I was just stood up. I really don’t have a good feeling about it,” Marie attempted to reassure the man.

Stein’s wide eyes narrowed slightly, seemingly observing the anxious woman standing before him.

“I don’t think you’re okay, Stein. And I don’t think Joe’s okay. He’d never do that, something must’ve happened,” Marie continued.

Stein observed the tear-eyed expression he was being given intently. When Marie cried, it was as though he was eyeing a beautiful work of art in an art gallery.

And while he’d typically have half a mind to recognize he probably shouldn’t say that, but right now, all calculated thoughts were thrown entirely out the window.

“Are you going to cry, Marie?” Stein asked with a grin on his face.

“No, no.. I’m just a little scared.”

Stein moved towards her, pulling her in close with one arm around her waist, and the other holding her head to his chest. He began to play with her hair the way she often played with his.

He typically felt very awkward when people cried, not knowing exactly what to do. Sometimes it annoyed him, sometimes he enjoyed it. Most often, he was entirely Indifferent.

But he learned what comforted Marie after the first time she cried in front of him - when they were teenagers.

He simply sat there at first, but Marie began to look at him with the look of a sad puppy, clearly wanting some form of comfort. And since Stein had already been repeatedly screamed at by people for being too emotionally unavailable (since he didn’t want to deal with that), he simply proceeded to do what he was doing currently - and it helped.

Stein began to lightly chuckle, his grin now a sadistic smile.

“You wanna know something, Marie?” Stein began.

“What is it?”

“You’re so beautiful when you cry. It’s simply adorable. Like a work of art.”

Marie felt particularly disturbed by this point. It was clear all of Stein’s reserves were gone, as though he was inebriated.

She felt simultaneously soothed and incredibly anxious - even scared - in his touch.

Marie’s train of thought was interrupted as Stein said, “Makes me want to dissect you, experiment on you. I love the scared little look in your eyes. I wish I could be as cute as all of you sometimes.”

Marie lifted her head from his chest and stared at him with a worried and nervous expression.

“Marie?”

“Yes, Stein?”

“What’s wrong with me?”

Stein couldn’t decide on a facial expression, so he decided to stick with his usual emotionless one, as opposed to his previous expression of malice.

“Why can’t I be as cute as all of you?”

“Stein, what do you mean?”

“You are all so emotional and expressive. I don’t get it. Basic human concepts elude me,” Stein responded, releasing Marie from his grip.

Marie tried her hardest to give him a smile, even if it was being interrupted continuously by her own anxiety.

“That’s okay, Stein. You don’t have to be like everyone else.”

“It’s been made clear to me that most do not view me as being one of them. Clearly they don’t think it’s okay.”

“One of them?”

“One of them. I’m not even a member of the genus Homo.”

“Stein, I’m going to ask you this again. Are you sure you’re all right?”

“Don’t know. I’m fine. I got to smoke, so I’m great. It was terribly refreshing. I wish I could indulge in another one of my refreshments,” Stein cryptically continued.

Marie was left utterly baffled by this. Stein was speaking awfully vaguely, as though he expected that everyone could read his mind.

“Marie.”

“Hm?”

“It feels like something’s crawling on me. I don’t like it.”

Stein spoke with a childlike lilt to his voice, even pouting a little. He began to scratch at his skin, clearly disturbed.

“Nothing is crawling on you, Stein, it’s okay.”

“How do you know that?”

“I can see that nothing is on you, Stein, just trust me,” Marie reassured Stein once more.

“Marie, nothing feels real. Make it feel real please. You look and sound so far away. This is not my body.”

Stein slumped over, leaning his head into her shoulder, eyes narrowing. Stein almost sounded as though he was going to weep. It greatly worried Marie. How did he go from a seemingly manic state to a seemingly depressive and childish state so quickly?

Marie placed her head in his hair and scratched at his scalp, gently shushing him.

She herself was ready to cry, she was incredibly stressed out and overwhelmed by the odd concoction of fear, anxiety, nervousness, and worry sitting at the pit of her stomach.

“Are you real, Marie? Am I alive? I think I’m dead, Marie. I’m lost. You look dead, too,” Stein actually began to whimper nearing the end of his sentence. The walls looked to be warping around him, the floor gently breathing. He could see a dog version of Spirit in the corner of his office, just barring his teeth and growling at him. Marie simply continued to comfort him the best she could.

- - - - - -

“Stein? Stein!” Marie exclaimed, running over to Stein, of whom was just standing in the middle of his office, silent tears rolling down his cheeks, with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. He looked to be soothing himself by playing with his own hair.

“Marie?” Stein was shocked. All of a sudden the woman who was stroking his scalp simply disappeared, being replaced with an even more worried (if that was even possible) Marie, standing in his doorway.

Stein looked down at his hands, eyes impossibly wide, as he began to laugh. What the hell just happened?

“You were just here! Why are you there now? Weren’t you home already? Joe stood you up, didn’t he?” Stein frantically rambled out, years continuing to fall despite his laughter.

Marie gave him an expression of pity - the most pity he’d ever seen.

“Stein, that was just a hallucination. Also, how’d you know I was stood up?”

“You just came back from the date, stood up. You’re coming back again. Are you real?”

Stein’s eyes were continuously narrowing and widening, seemingly in hysterics. He was looking frantically around his office, at his hands, then back at Marie, confused and startled.

“I’m worried about Joe.. But… what’s wrong, Stein? What happened? I’m worried about you, too,” Marie spoke gently.

“Have you been hallucinating this whole time?”

“Am I still hallucinating, Marie?”

“No, you’re not,” Marie reassured Stein.

“But that’s what you said before!” Exclaimed Stein, still frantic and confused.

Stein grabbed into his head, sitting on the floor, beginning to rock himself back and forth.

Marie crawled down on the floor with him, going to sit beside him.

She gently rubbed his back, sighing to herself.

“You even have the same teary look. Where am I?” Stein said, he himself wearing a teary expression.

“What made you cry, Stein? You never cry,” Marie worriedly asked.

“Everything and nothing at all,” Stein cryptically replied.

What Stein felt he could not put a label on. It was not fear or anxiety. It was something more akin to paranoia and confusion. He felt incredibly disoriented.

“Come here, lay on my lap,” Marie said. Stein rested his head on her thighs, eyes still manically wide.

Marie began to play with his hair.

“Why don’t I tell you about the date I just didn’t have?” Marie offered. Stein nodded his head, eyes narrowing with exhaustion.

“Let’s take that cigarette out of your mouth first,” Marie said, grabbing the cigarette that had already been out and tossing it in the nearby trashcan.

“Weren’t trying to quit, Stein?” Marie asked curiously.

“I quit quitting,” Stein tiredly replied, voice hoarse.

“So. As you can see, I was excited to meet up with Joe, and even put on my best dress,” Marie began.

“I went into the super bougie restaurant, sat at one of the many tables, and waited there. Do you want to guess for how long?”

“An hour,” Stein proceeded to guess.

“Bingo. I sat, embarrassed, in that place for about an hour before I decided to leave. Then, while I was walking home, I sent numerous messages and called a lot, only to receive no reply.”

Stein gave a hum of acknowledgment.

“I’m really worried. I have a horrible feeling about it all. Joe is not the type to stand someone up. And he always notified me when he was late that he would be late beforehand,” Marie ranted, sighing.

Marie was trying not to cry by this point, which may seem dramatic to some, but Joe meant a lot to her and she just knew something was wrong.

Stein heard her breathing pick up, as she wiped her eyes.

He lifted his limp hand to stroke the hand that sat on top of his head.

He didn’t know what else to do.

He wasn’t going to tell her that it would be okay when it might not end up being okay.

“You’re right. He’s not the type,” Stein spoke, sounding extremely tired. Marie wondered if he was about to fall asleep on her lap.

“I’m scared, Stein. Something’s wrong, I just know it.” Marie said in between small, quiet sobs.

He continued to soothingly hold and stroke her hand, not truly present.

“I’m worried about you, too. You’re not okay,” Marie looked down at the man.

“When was I ever?” Stein said as he chuckled, attempting to lighten the mood.

He was mildly successful as Marie herself laughed a little, a small smile on her teary face.

“You’re not wrong, Stein. But you know what I mean.”

“Don’t worry about me. There’s no need.”

“Don’t give me that shit. I know you’re not okay. I walked in on you hallucinating for God’s sake. You were smoking again, too!”

“I’m not strong enough, Marie,” Stein said in reply, sounding winded and mildly upset.

“Of course you are. You’ve managed this long,” Marie encouraged Stein.

“I have, indeed. But I think it’s my time now.”

Marie leaned over, only to be met with Stein’s sorrowful face.

“Don’t say stuff like that. Makes you sound suicidal or something,” Marie said, gently slapping his head.

“I liked it better when you were playing with my hair,” Stein teased.

“For someone who’s not cuddly at all, you sure are enjoying this,” Marie teased right back.

“I am, indeed,” Stein teasingly grinned.

“All right, jerk, why don’t we go to bed now? I’ll take you myself to make sure you don’t sneak back into your office,” Marie offered, smiling as she lifted him out of her lap.

Stein lifted himself up, making it easier on Marie. The woman was incredibly strong, but he was sure that it wasn’t exactly easy to pick him up.

Marie walked him to his bedroom, Stein crawling into bed as Marie went to the other side of the bed. Stein shot her a confused look as Marie snuggled up next to him, wrapping her arms around him and shoving her face in his chest.

“I don’t care if you don’t like this, I need it right now, so shut up,” Marie said, half-joking.

Stein laughed at her as Marie lightly slapped his arm in response, head still hidden.

“If you snore, I’m kicking you out. Or dissecting you. Most likely the latter,” Stein teased. Marie whipped her head out of his chest, punching his arm this time with a small pout on her face.

“Fuck you, Stein,” Marie said, pout now a smile as she laughed, curling back into the much larger man.

“Yeah, I’m sure you’d like to, baby,” Stein spoke with a huge, sadistic grin on his face, to which Marie responded with kicking him.

“Why do you enjoy abusing me so damn much? One minute you’re all sweet, and the next minute I’m in the ER, Ms. Marie the Pulverizer.”

“I’m always sweet, thank you very much,” Marie responded.

“Yeah, sure, whatever helps you sleep at night. I’d also like to mention the fact that you didn’t deny wanting to fuck me. You definitely wanted to when we were teenagers. Does the title ‘Pulverizer’ extend to the bedroom as well?”

That got Stein kneed in the nuts.

Stein curled in on himself, groaning in pain.

“I will kick you out right now,” Marie said.

“This is my bedroom and you’re the one who wanted to snuggle up to me.”

Marie groaned and hugged him tighter.

“I successfully lightened the mood,” Stein victoriously stated.

If she wanted him to shut up and go to sleep, she’d need to do what she did best:

Play with his hair.

And that she did.

She even rubbed up and down his back every once in a while.

“I know what you’re trying to do,” Stein would say, but that didn’t stop his eyelids from getting too heavy to hold open.

“What’s it like being typical?” Stein sleepily slurred.

“Why do you ask?”

“Curiosity.”

“Well, it’s hard to describe since I’ve never been anything but.”

“What does empathy feel like?”

“Go to sleep, Stein.”

“No.”

“Do it right now or else I’ll knee you in the balls again.”

“Fine. But you have to tell me tomorrow.”

“Sure.”

[the-real-dev]

hello gamers im making an lmk au and writin a fic for it 🔥

the premise is basically that syntax kills mayor instead of the other way around, but the rest of the spider clan have also been killed

afterwards though lbd takes over his mind and uses him as a new puppet (😇😇😇)

so i havent got. that much written yet. but i wanna know what you guys think :3

wip is unnnder the read more ⬇️

LMK AU - A Good Ending (But not for me)

Mayor had been given the order to get rid of the spider clan.

His normally frozen smile faltered, if only for a moment. He knew this would happen eventually, of course. Destiny cannot be changed or avoided.

Still, it saddened him. He didn't care much for the others, but Syntax? Syntax was one of the only people he'd found that… that he seemed to truly love. As much as an (seemingly, though not truly) emotionless corpse could love, anyway.

His lady would never approve of this relationship, though. Syntax and the rest of his clan were simply pawns, in the grand scheme of things.

A means to an end.

And now that they had served their purpose, it was time to dispose of them. Mayor left the room to find the clan, a crack in his usually calm demeanor.

Meanwhile… Syntax was stressed out. He'd been given the huge task of helping to remake the spider mech, and he had absolutely no materials. There obviously wasn't any time either. MK and his teammates were beating the clan at almost every encounter, and they needed to take over the city, and restore their queen to power.

Also, there was the issue of the strange little girl that the queen had invited. She gave Syntax an uneasy feeling, and he suspected she might betray them if given the chance. He was currently pacing in the sewer tunnels, worrying about how he was going to complete such a huge project. “There's not enough time- not enough materials!” he groaned to himself, annoyed.

“I'm afraid you're quite correct. There is no time.” Syntax gasped and turned to face Mayor, and his heart dropped. Mayor's normally blank white eyes were now a swirling, ice cold, blue.

Syntax let out a scream, but he was quickly cut off by Mayor lunging for him, a manic grin etched on his face.

“Mayor- What the hell are you doing?!” He screamed as he jumped backwards, Mayor's ice cold hands grazing his neck.

“I'm sorry, my darling, but destiny cannot be avoided.“

”So you're telling me my destiny is to die?! By your hands? I thought, I truly thought, you loved me. Even as the freak I've become now.”

“Dear, I-”

“No, shut it. I don't care about your excuses. You're working with that little girl, aren't you? This was all just a ploy, just to manipulate me.”

Mayor grits his teeth together, a rare spark of anger (and, could it be? remorse?) driving him forward. He aims a punch at Syntax, and knocks him to the floor.

[nicedracula]

OTP Relationship: 1, 2, 3, 4, 11, 12, 13

This took me a moment to answer ^^; But ty for sending all these!

1. Who most initiates PDA?

Luxu, without a doubt. He's just a physically affectionate guy in general, I think, patting people on the back or leaning on their shoulder, etc.

Though I think the PDA is toned down for xigxem, because Xemnas has appearances to keep up as the Emotionless Leader of the Organization of Beings Without Feelings. Not that Xigbar doesn't push his luck sometimes, that's the kinda guy he is.

2. Any sleep habits either had to get used to?

I feel like Apprentinort has a tendency to get super invested in his studies, to the point of accidentally pulling all-nighters while working away at his desk. I don't think it'd be uncommon to find Apprentinort asleep at various places he studies/works. Xemnas probably carries this trait, too, but to a lesser degree. Apprentinort is the one who is more manic/invested in his research, and it bleeds into his sleep schedule.

Cue Luxu trying to lure him to bed, "c'mon, I'm getting tired just watching you work", falling asleep anyways...

3. Hot and Steamy or Soft and Tender?

Typically I view xehabraig as more Soft and Tender, while xigxem is probably more Hot and Steamy. But both are very capable of either, depending on the mood.

4. How did they first meet?

I like to think of Apprentinort as his own seperate being outside of Terra/Xehanort, so technically it'd be that first time in the courtyard, when Braig finds Apprentinort. I imagine he was also there a lot during Apprentinort's recovery, checking in and keeping an eye on the Gazing Eye's wielder, which Apprentinort might mistake for genuine concern.

Which at that point, probably isn't, but the more they talk, and the more similarities Braig realizes they have in common, weeeeeell....

11. Which member is more physically affectionate?

Luxu for sure. He just strikes me as a clingy, handsy guy who's absolutely starved for physical affection. So when he finally has someone, he's all over him, giving kisses, wrapping his arms around him, etc.

12. Which member is more verbally affectionate?

Xemnas for sure. He'll wax poetic for...way, way too long. To the point where Luxu's probably like, "aww, cut it out, you're getting all soft on me". But internally, I think there's still a sentimental part of him buried deep down that appreciates all the lavish things Xem has to say about him.

Same goes for Apprentinort, though I think a lot of it is written rather than spoken, sprawled out in journals.

13. Which member steals/borrows the other ones clothing?

Luxu, but partially because Apprentinort/Xem has a larger build(Xemnas in particular), so Luxu's things would fit more snug on him. I also think Luxu would collect articles Xem's clothing just because he likes to. Collects his clothes—mostly t-shirts, things that Xem won't mind him touching. Says things like "what, it's not like I see you wearing it ever", knowing that the reason why is because he keeps borrowing it.

[justabadmistake]

The caged one? Interesting.

“Do all your slaves have cages?” Vader feigns curiosity.

The king shakes his head. “No. Just that one. I have my reasons that remain private.”

“Of course.” Anakin raises his hands in surrender. “I am not one to push another Master about his slaves. Each to his own.”

“I appreciate that. Perhaps you and your girl would like to join me and the other three for dinner and entertainment tonight?” He offers.

Anakin shrugs. “I don’t see why not. Thank you for the invitation.”

“You are our esteemed guests,” he hums, “I will have a servant escort you to your rooms and I will have her return when it is time to eat. For now I figure you’d like to either wander around on your own or settle in.”

Sora gets up and pads quietly across the floor, getting on her hands and knees to crawl into the cage sitting in the darkest portion of the entire throne room. She sits on her butt and pulls her knees into her chest, leaning against the cage and facing the wall like the King has always instructed her to.

Noting the way Anakin watches her, the King tilts his head. “Don’t tell me you have empathy for her…”

Anakin gives himself a moment longer of watching Sora, making sure his cold, emotionless mask is effectively in place before turning back around with a sharp grin.

“Of course not,” he hums. “When they misbehave they must face the consequences. Come on, little one,” he looks to you, gesturing for you to stand. “Let’s go see our rooms.”

As he watches you, he lets his eyes lose that manic glint, the heaviness of this situation for him showing through momentarily.

I give a nod and get up, moving to follow him.

I hate this place. And not just because I’m playing the slave. These girls have children that they aren’t allowed to see.

[adxmparriish]

everything he needs - read on ao3 track 3 of DEDICATED - a jurdannet roulette collab fic with @hazelsheartsworn @figonas @slightlyrebelliouswriter23 @laequiem

SIDE A: TRACK ONE -> TRACK TWO -> TRACK FOUR -> TRACK FIVE SIDE B: TRACK ONE -> TRACK TWO -> TRACK THREE MASTERLIST

writer: lizziebxnnet words: 3.2k rating: explicit -> dom/sub undertones, light bondage, orgasm denial, overstimulation, cock ring

Instead of Faerie bowing to us both, I bow to her. I’m all too willing to oblige. All the anxiety I felt earlier, the rapid beating of my heart I so hated, is replaced by something else. Want, need, pleasure, pain… I am nothing but Jude’s. There is no more room in me for anything else. “Let’s play,” she says. Yes, my evil seductress, let’s play. I am your pawn.

tags and fic under the cut

I am edgy.

Anxiety rolls around inside me, a living monster with claws and fangs crawling beneath my skin.

It’s no secret that most days being High King brings me little joy. I’d much rather laze about, drink wine, kiss Jude until I’m senseless, or simply be. The duties, while not always unbearable, drive me over the edge more often than I’d like to admit.

As the moon rises and filters silver light into our chambers, I glance over to our bed. Jude, beautiful as ever, is draped over the sheets looking at me. There’s a glint in her deep brown eyes that scares and arouses me. Her grin is mischief reincarnated, and I stare back at her with intent. Adjusting the crown on my temples, I turn to face her completely.

“I think I’d rather be on the other end of your knife than deal with any of this,” I say.

“I’m inclined to agree,” she replies, flopping over to lay on her back. She still wears her silk nightgown, some flimsy black thing she purchased at the sex shop. The straps are barely there, and a low neckline leaves little to the imagination. It hardly covers the mocha skin of her thighs, although I can hardly complain. “How would you feel about… a little game?”

I raise a brow. “Should I be worried?”

“Of course not,” she says with a wink, rising from the bed and moving to the dresser. It does nothing to calm my anxieties.

She opens the first drawer, rifles through it, and then pulls out one of our new toys. In her other hand, she holds a remote. The skin of my face grows warm. She pads over and shows me what she has.

It’s a cock ring, but there’s a small attachment on the side of it. She flips a switch on it, then presses a button on the small black remote. Immediately, buzzing reaches my ears and the ring begins to vibrate. I reach out to touch it, feeling the vibrations under my fingertips. Jude looks up and when we meet gazes, I can feel her excitement thrumming through her.

The ravenous beast under my skin loosens its grip, and I find want growing in its place. Wanting her, wanting this, wanting to try something new. To be under Jude’s control would be the most wonderful of changes — a much-needed release from duties and being High King. I want to just be hers, to be Jude’s husband, her plaything. I smile at her, my beautifully wicked wife, and surrender to her.

Not bothering to wait for a second longer, she pops the buttons of my pants and yanks them down. I’m half hard already, the mere thought of what this day will bring exciting me. She sits our new toy on the floor beside her as she kneels in front of me. She scoots closer, then looks up to meet my eyes. I stare at her, transfixed by her beauty. Chestnut hair, long and lush, falls down past her shoulders. Her legs, so strong and powerful and covered in soft, tan skin, fold underneath her. Her hands, callused and sneaky, reach out and grip my cock. My breath hitches in my throat.

She strokes me lightly, teasing. I close my eyes and my head falls back, exposing my neck. When I feel the warm heat of her mouth on me, I gasp her name. Her plush lips swallow me down, her tongue tracing the line of a vein that runs down the shaft. I reach out to touch her, to twist her hair between my fingers, but she swats my hand away. She’s such a treacherous, wicked thing.

I feel a fire begin to burn in my belly, my release within reach, but as if she can read my mind, she stops. She pulls off with a pop, and I open my eyes to look down at her. She has the toy in one hand, my cock in the other. She strokes me a few times, then slides it over me, securing it at the base. The pressure is slight but still intense. She licks the tip, collecting a bit of come that has collected there. Damn the meetings, I think. Nothing is more important than this.

She presses a button on the remote, and I see white. The vibrations rattle through me, making me groan. Pleasure ripples in my blood, and then as soon as it begins, it stops. I don’t know if I’m relieved or aggravated. I glare at Jude, but she seems emotionless. I know better, though. I know she’s relishing in the game of her own creation.

She’s switched masks. She’s the same Jude, the same woman I love so dearly, but she is a different version. She’s always High Queen, but now she’s mine, and I am hers. Instead of Faerie bowing to us both, I bow to her. I’m all too willing to oblige. All the anxiety I felt earlier, the rapid beating of my heart I so hated, is replaced by something else. Want, need, pleasure, pain… I am nothing but Jude’s. There is no more room in me for anything else.

“Let’s play,” she says.

Yes, my evil seductress, let’s play. I am your pawn.

* * *

Sweat collects on my brow, and when the vibrations finally stop, I fear I might come purely from relief alone.

I look to Jude sitting beside me and notice the smallest of smiles playing at her lips. The Living Council is either clueless or pretending to be, and I’m not sure which is more ridiculous. I can feel the redness on my skin, and hear the panting breaths leaving my mouth. For more than an hour, I’ve sat in front of all of them and been brought to the brink of ecstasy more times than I can remember, only to be denied over and over again. I feel deranged, manic, unhinged. I want to come so badly that it is all I can think of. My hand longs to grab myself and rip off the wretched ring, but I don’t. I sit. I obey.

I know that, late into the night when Jude and I are in our chambers, I will be rewarded. It’s the only thing that keeps me grounded.

“I don’t think it’s wise to trifle with the Court of Teeth,” someone says, and I should know the voice but I don’t.

“High King? What do you suggest?” someone else questions me, and I turn my head to the sound.

As fleeting as a strike of lightning, the vibrations start again. I grip the table, knuckles going white, as sensations rock through me. My eyes are open but unseeing. I can hear nothing but blood rushing in my ears, the pounding of my pulse. I shiver as everything aches, my cock almost sore from being denied for so long. I think someone says my name, but I can’t respond. My normally sharp tongue denies me.

“Are you alright, darling?” Jude asks from next to me, her hand laying on my forearm, and I almost come undone. The mere touch of her fingers against my skin causes a cascade of feelings, all of which crash into me roughly.

The buzzing stops and I deflate, my breathing ragged and slow.

“I fear I am not, my Queen.” I look up and the entire table stares with looks of concern on their faces. My already warm face flushes darker, embarrassment flooding to the surface.

“Excuse us,” Jude says, gripping my arm and pulling me upright. “Cardan needs to lie down and rest.”

I can hear people bidding us farewell but I don’t look at them, don’t even acknowledge that they spoke. I am led forward by Jude’s firm grip and sure steps. All I know is her and my own desire that swims through my veins. We walk for what feels like hours but I’m sure is only minutes, and then we reach our chambers. When we’re inside, Jude makes quick work of my clothes, stripping me carefully. When my pants are off and thrown to the side, I look down.

My cock is bright red, almost angry. Jude’s hand grasps it and I choke on a moan, my hips bucking in her grip. She looks up at me in wonder.

“So good,” she says, stroking me twice before letting go. “My beautiful, obeying husband.”

I ache at her praise. She leads me to the bed and I fall on my back. Jude begins stripping her own clothes, but when she pulls off the belt holding up her trousers, she tosses it on the bed next to me. She climbs on, pushing my arms up to the headboard. Involuntarily, my hands grab the wooden bars.

Jude straddles me, her body completely naked now, and bends forward. If I tilt my head forward just a bit, I could capture a nipple in between my teeth. I don’t, though. In this game, I don’t touch unless Jude instructs me to do so.

“Remember our colors?” she asks, and I nod. It’d been the first thing we established when we uncovered this new world, this new game. Green for go, red for stop, yellow for let’s slow it down.

She takes the belt and wraps it around my hands, then the bars of the headboard, before fastening it and pulling it taut. I pull and nothing budges. Our eyes meet and the glimmer in hers captures me in a trance. She leans down and kisses me.

Her tongue traces my lip and I open to her immediately, letting her consume me. When she takes my bottom lip between her teeth, pulling gently, I melt into her touch. Her hands are in my hair, fingers tracing the sharp point of my ears. My tail thrashes, then wraps around her leg. The tuft on the end strokes her inner thigh, right below her core, and she gasps into my mouth. I breathe it in, bathe in it.

I cry out as the swell of her ass brushes against my cock, and it twitches, aching for release. Immediately she sits up, pulling away and denying me.

“Jude,” I beg, pulling at the belt that holds my wrists.

“What?”

“Take this damned ring off,” I demand. Her brows raise, and I know at once I’ve made a grave mistake.

Her strong, threatening hand grabs my throat and squeezes, just hard enough to catch my breath. My eyes widen, my arousal grows even more, and my hips undulate. I fight for some kind of release, some relief of the pressure and pain growing, and find nothing. The lack of oxygen makes my head spin, but I force my eyes to stay open.

Jude leans down, her lips brushing against my ear. “You, my dearest Cardan, are not in charge.”

She eases on my throat, releasing me. She traces the line of my jaw with her fingernail, slowly and carefully. I can’t tear my gaze away from her, not that I would want to. In her element, she is ethereal. I shrink under the power she holds in the palm of her hands.

“You want to come?” she asks. It feels like a trick question, but I nod regardless. She shakes her head, disapproving.

“Use your words.”

“Yes, my Queen,” I say.

“That,” she declares, “is too bad.”

Despite her words to me, she turns and reaches down, removing the ring. I groan at the small release. She shimmies back so her sex looms over me, and I lick my lips. She is dripping, heat radiating from it. Any other time, I’d lean forward and taste her, my tongue dipping between the folds. Instead, I wait, my cock practically pulsing as it aches between my legs.

The warmth of her mouth engulfs me and I groan, her name a curse on my tongue. My hands yank at the belt holding them, the leather digging into my skin. I feel crazed, so much pleasure and pain swimming together and making me drown. I can’t focus on anything except her mouth, her tongue, the slick of her core tantalizing as it hovers over my face.

She hums as one hand roams, pinching the skin of my thigh, and tears prick at my eyes. A shock runs through my system and it takes everything I have not to release into her mouth. I am dizzy with desire.

“Baby,” Jude murmurs against my cock, her tongue licking a long stripe, “taste me.”

Like a starving man at a feast, I don’t waste a single second.

I lick at her, tasting every sweet inch of her. It distracts me from the wicked ways of her mouth in the most pleasing way. She moans at my ministrations, her hips bucking when I catch her clit between my teeth lightly. I devour her, unable to satisfy the hunger growing inside me. She is a long drink of water after a hot day, and I am parched.

Every inch of me burns for her, and I feel my orgasm building in my spine again. I moan into her center as it climbs, higher and faster and stronger.

“Jude,” I plead, “I’m going to come.”

Her wet mouth moves away from me, and my eyes sting as I’m denied again, my climax crashing to a halt. Every part of me hurts, longing to release. I feel like a bow, stretched taut and thin. Tears leak from my eyes and through the mist, I can see Jude’s face hovering over me. I blink the wetness away, and her hands brush the tears from my cheeks.

“You’re doing so well,” she murmurs, kissing my face. I almost forget about my throbbing cock through the haze of her words, but it’s still there.

Jude places her hands on my chest and then lowers herself, her sex wrapping around me as she moves down. I whimper at the feel of her, so warm and tight and lovely. Her mouth hangs open at the sensation, and her eyelids flutter closed. Again, I am struck by her beauty. She is radiant as sweat curls the hair by her face, drips down her neck, and pools in the swell of her breasts. I long to reach up, to cup one in my palms, but the damned belt still holds my wrists. She opens her eyes when she’s fully seated.

She wastes no time. She bounces in earnest, taking me under her power even more than I already am. I buck my hips to meet hers. The sound of our skin slaps together, and it makes the sweetest song. She leans forward, changing the angle so I go deeper, and my eyes roll in the back of my head. Pleasure like I’ve never known rolls through me like a wave, and I make an embarrassing noise in the back of my throat. My mind is nothing but Jude, Jude, Jude, Jude. It recants through my brain like an enchantment.

“Jude please — “ I begin, but a moan cuts me off when she rolls her hips.

“Not yet,” she replies to me, already knowing my request. I slam my head back against the bed, jerking my wrists against the belt tying me down. I want to come so badly it blinds me, makes me crazy. I whine and Jude looks at me.

“Color, Cardan.”

“Green,” I say immediately, sure as ever. She denies me but I relish it. I will come with her permission or not at all.

She smiles at me, and I glow under her approval. I am nothing if not her servant.

“Harder,” she commands.

I plant my feet against the mattress and bend my hips, pounding into Jude with reckless abandon. She forgets herself, crying out and gripping my ribs. Her nails dig into my skin. She closes her eyes as I meet her, over and over, the slapping of our skin ringing through our room, although I can hardly hear it over the pounding of my heart.

“Cardan,” she shouts, throwing her head back, “Gods, you feel so good.”

“Fuck,” I chant, slowing down and fucking her slower, deeper, hammering into her so hard that it jolts her.

Finally, a sweet release comes as she fiddles with the belt, untying my hands. I immediately have one hand on her hip, the other at her clit. My thumb circles and flicks it, making her groan loudly. Her hips falter as her own release threatens to overcome her. If I can’t come, I’ll be sure she does.

I can tell she’s close. Her breaths are short, her eyes are closed, and her legs shake. I grip her hips and flip us over. I pull her close, letting her legs dangle over my shoulders, and take her roughly. I pick up the pace, grab her by the back of the neck and kiss her hungrily. It’s clashing tongues and teeth, but it drives me wild regardless. Her warm breaths tickle my lips as she pants, completely overwhelmed. I circle her clit with two fingers, and a throaty sound rips from her throat.

“Come for me Cardan,” she demands, meeting my thrusts with her own.

In an instant, my body responds to her command, and like a wave crashing on the shore, I come. My vision goes black, then I see stars. It’s blissful pain as it rocks through me and leaves me breathless, every inch of me completely spent. Jude, delirious all the same, follows me. Her hands grip my back, nails digging into my skin as she unravels. We moan into each other’s mouths, kissing until we’re dizzy with it. I fuck her through the aftershocks of our orgasms, then collapse against her.

I clutch her, desperate for her closeness. She returns the grip, pulling me into her chest. I nose her neck, leaving wet kisses down her pulse. She hums happily as I cradle her in my arms. She rubs my back gently, and when I roll us so my back hits the mattress, she lays her head on my chest.

When I push her damp hair from her forehead, she grabs my wrist. It’s red, lines from the belt creasing the skin. She kisses it, then grabs my other wrist and does the same. My heart, so often cold and hard, is warm. I touch her face, my thumb brushing the soft skin of her cheek. She smiles at me, and I can’t help but smile back.

“Your games are evil,” I say to her, making her smile wider. “Although I should have known. You’ve never been an innocent one.”

She laughs. “Neither have you.”

“I cannot argue with that.”

My fingers play in her hair, brush against her skin, and trace the round curve of her ear. Moonlight filters through our curtains and casts shadows across her face. We are both exhausted but I kiss her anyway, slow and sweet. She melts into it, wrapping her arms around my neck.

I love her, devastatingly so. Not telling her seems criminal.

“I love you, darling Jude.”

Her lips meet my jaw, and she kisses me there.

“I love you too,” she says.

As always, I wonder how I got so lucky to win her affections. When her fingers graze my neck, touching my pulse point, I realize for the first time, I don’t much care how we got here. What truly matters is that we are in this moment, basking in the love we’ve built. Whether I’m lucky or blessed, or somewhere in the middle — all of it fades to black in the warmth of Jude’s embrace.

.

.

.

.

.

@slightlyrebelliouswriter23 @figonas @laequiem @hazelsheartsworn @jurdannet @jurdannetrevels @thefolkofthefic @kingandfireheart

[spencersmagic]

Middle of Adventure - 505 series.

(found on pinterest).

masterlist // 505 series // taglist

summary: a part two to "greet me with good bye" (found here)

couple: fem reader x spencer reid

category: angst, hurt/comfort

warnings: general criminal minds violence, mentions of guns, curse words (f*ck/f*cking), crying.

words: 1.8k

time to read: 10 minutes.

***

It was quite ironic.

The space between them had never felt as empty, as ruined, as it did right now. It felt like the love, the care that they had had for each other all those years back, all the patience and truth they had shared, had been stolen. The woman in front of them had done it for them.

The last two years seemed empty now. Emotionless. Worthless.

The feelings they had for each other had always been unspoken. Excluding a few instances, core instances that needed verbal confirmation, they had always understood each other without having to share a word. They were both profilers, for God’s sake.

Spencer’s fidgeting in the plane rides on the way back from a tough case was always understood by Y/N. She had always made sure to hold him, caress his hair or read to him when he was feeling anxious. Similarly, when she was feeling weird after an uncomfortable encounter with a disgusting unsub, closing in on herself, carrying herself differently, he would always pick up on it. He’d cover her with a blanket and tell her random facts about the stars, or lemons, or the first shoes discovered… Anything that could get her mind away from the filthy words he had spewed at her.

There were no words exchanged between. Because they always knew what the other needed.

Because they cared. And they wanted the other to be okay.

The lack of words didn’t mean a lack of communication. There was constantly a line of communication between the two of them, established through body language, looks and short beginnings of sentences right before the other picked up on what they wanted. Everything was clear between them. They always just knew.

This had taken time. Of course, it had. At first, they were clumsy. Y/N’s anxiety attacks had gone worse once when he had tried to distract her by talking about the climate crisis (a horrible idea, if you ask me). Similarly, she had learned that after Spencer’s rare, but long talks with Hotch weren’t the moment to make sarcastic comments about, well, anything.

All they had was silence and the promise to love the other if they needed it.

But right now, as they stood in front of the unsub, then woman who had been tormenting Spencer for the past few months with little letters, threats and promises to hurt everybody he knew and loved (or at least everybody who was left), it felt like nothing could ever be the same.

She had called herself “The Woman”, which Y/N understood. She wanted to be everything to Spencer.

She stood still, calmly, knowingly. Because nothing he did could change the course of action that was about to occur tonight. The stillness in the weapon she had aimed at Y/N made sure to make that clear.

“Why would I need to break up with her, Clara? Y/N and I aren’t together” Spencer repeated calmly, trying to focus on his training so he could try to ignore the soft sobs that Y/N was letting out.

The gun rattled as Clara shook in anger.

“Bullshit! I’ve seen you together. For God’s sakes, I’ve seen the way you fucking look at her. You-“she laughed manically “You look at her like she’s hung the fucking stars – like you’re supposed to look at me! So don’t you dare fucking lie to me “. She was met with silence.

“You know…” tears welled in her eyes, strong façade faltering. “You were going to come back. We were supposed to meet, and you were supposed to love me like I have all these years. You abandoned me!” she screamed. “And now you’re with-with her”.

Nothing.

“Do it or I will shoot her!” she screamed, sending spit flying around. Flinching, she shakily repeated Clara’s words.

“Do it, Spencer. I can take it” she spoke clearly, forcing her voice to sound unworried.

It was quite ironic. Because they had been in a similar situation at the beginning of their relationship. And it would end like this, too.

“I can’t, Y/N. Y-you know I can’t! Why are you making me do this?!” he raised his voice suddenly, ripping his lungs open as he sunk down onto the floor. He crumbled upon himself as he sobbed. “I can’t. I can’t do it, Y/N.” he repeated over and over, the last bit of self-restraint leaving his body. “I can’t do it. You are everything. I c-can’t hurt” he hiccupped.

Y/N’s eyes absorbed Spencer every little movement and tremble. She felt as though he had kept her heart right up until this moment, bubble wrapped and intact, but now he was crushing it as he hugged himself tightly. It was too much to bear.

“Spencer, if you don’t do it, I will” she whispered. He looked up, tear eyed, and looked at Clara. Her smile was wide now, red nose, enjoying the scene that was unfolding in front of her. Spencer stood up shakily.

“Clara, you were my classmate in school. Having the chance to go to university, don’t you think I had to take it? Did- Didn’t you want what’s best for me?” he tried to reason. “You love me, right? Don’t you want me to be happy?”. She smiled sadly at him.

“I do. But not if it’s with her”.

He turned to Y/N, eyes filled with tears. “Y/N” he requested. Still, she couldn’t bear looking at him. “Y/N! Y/N. Please look at me” he shook. She turned.

“Y/N…” he whispered, taking a look at her, bloody and beaten. “Y/N, I can’t live without you. Since I met you, I haven’t been able to.” He paused. “You’re everything. I don’t how to live without you”.

“Spencer, you will have to learn. The middle of an adventure is such a perfect place to start” she whispered back. His face changed completely, eyes wide and surprised.

**

“Oh god! This is so tedious. When can we leave?” had whispered Reid, curling a lock of her hair around his finger.

“We’re here as guests, Spencer. It would be rude of us to leave” she had reprimanded him, seemingly unaltered by his puppy dog eyes.

“But-but my love” he all-but-whined. “I wanna go home”.

“Yeah? You “wanna go home”? Or are your pants getting a little bit too tight from staring down my top?” she shot back. He didn’t dare reply.

“Do you want to play, or not?” Y/N clarified. He nodded eagerly. She grabbed him by the hair as they slow-danced in the middle of the lounge with the other couples at Rossi’s new wife’s mansion.

She pulled him close, lips close to his ear in such a way that appeared innocent to outsiders. Her words, though, were another story.

“Okay, love. “Adventure” is our safe-word. I’m going to tease you and, the moment I bring up that word in conversation that’ll mean that you’ve done well and should now play along. I’ll make up some excuse and we can leave this god-awful party. Sounds good?” once again, he nodded eagerly.

**

“You know, Clara. Maybe you’re right” Spencer begun, looking into her eyes. “If she’s so okay with letting me go, she clearly doesn’t deserve my time” he swallowed his tears, hoping he was being convincing.

Clearly, Clara didn’t need a lot of convincing. After all, she had been looking for every single indicator in his words and looks in front of the camera to believe he was madly in love with her, and seeking her out.

She lowered the now-forgotten weapon, throwing it on the ground and herself on Spencer.

“You really think so, my love?”

A pet name Spencer had heard coming from Y/N, and had never felt as disgusting as it did in that moment. Spencer couldn’t even think about what it was doing to her.

He just nodded, hugging her back as convincingly as possible.

Sometimes, we do what we can to make our loved ones happy. Sometimes, we stay. Other times, we leave. We give and give for them. At the end of the day, it’s human nature to want to created strong bonds with those you love the most.

Spencer and Y/N weren’t an exception. They gave so much to each other – to their relationship. They loved with such a love that is only seen in movies, with a passion that only occurs during the darkest hours, and a heart that has only been broken and mended over and over.

In retrospection, Clara is no different either.

As Spencer pushed her off, Y/N threw herself to the ground to grab the gun, did a somersault and pointed it at her. Right on cue, Morgan and Prentiss burst into the old warehouse, pointing their guns at Clara.

“Step away from my boyfriend, you bitch”.

**

It felt almost surreal.

Especially to Spencer, who had been battling with the thought of her for the past three months. It felt like this moment would never come – like a breach in the space-time continuum had been formed and he was now experiencing a reality parallel to his own.

But feeling Y/N’s touch, hearing their mutual comforting words, stumbling like their relationship had been, was grounding. Perhaps not comfortable, or stable, of secure just yet. But it sent a message to both of them. “No matter what happens, no matter how many variations exist in your life, I will never be one. I’ll always be here”.

“You were supposed to come back! You were supposed to love me, and give me a beautiful life. Why didn’t you?” they heard Clara screaming. Tears were streaming down her face as the cop sat her down.

“You could’ve sent a letter, Clara” he reached to grab her handcuffs, which were clasped behind her. Y/N watched the entire scene unfold before her eyes, tears still cascading down her cheeks.

“Would that have made any difference?”

“It’s time to go, Ms. Sondermann”.

“Would it? Or would you have stayed with her?”Spencer stayed silent. “Don’t think you’re anything better than me. You did everything for her! Just like I did. You’re no different than me.” she screamed, as Prentiss pulled her away.

Spencer turned to look into Y/S’s eyes. She looked so different when the fear of losing her wasn’t looming around. Tired, of course, from the three day search, but hopeful.

He hadn’t seen her hopeful in so long.

As he closed in on her, looking so purely loving, she immediately understood. the dust settled and she realized just how much he had been through.

She suddenly understood.

**

The lack of words never meant a lack of communication.

There were no words exchanged between. Because they always knew what the other needed.

She spread her arms, ready for his embrace at the same time he ducked his head to hold her around the waist. His lips twitched, all the unspoken words at the top of his tongue.

“i-i know, love. i know” she spoke between sobs.

Everything was clear between them. They always just knew.

**

guys that's the end of the 505 series!!! i hope you liked it.

i'm super sad that it's ending, but the fics i've got in mind are really cool, and i can't wait to write them + share them with you all <3

(im lowkey feeling nostalgic - i've fallen in love with this take on the characters and their dynamic).

taglist: @lady-anon-x @username2002 @eoupe @galaxydefenderjulia @spencerreid-mgg @spenxerslut @urie-bowie-mercury @onyourfingertips @big-galaxy-chaos @fiftyshadesofspencerreid @tbuhgs @exhaleli

tags not working: @huntheimpossible @idontwantyourcookiesthanks

you can join my taglist on the link at the top

happy reading. i love you. stay safe and happy <3

[ninyard]

part two of the stefan/andrew au PLEASE

WELP this might not be the part two people wanted but here’s what I wanted so~ enjoy!

(Part 1 ? is here)

((this got rly long so I had to stop but if u want a third part lmk 🥺👉👈))

Neil made his first mistake by not bolting the opposite way when Coach Hernandez told him he had visitors. An Exy racquet to the chest and a single glance at those bright hazel eyes turned Neils entire world sideways in seconds. This couldn’t be happening. Neil almost couldn’t hold back the ‘Andrew?’ that wished to escape his lips. Of course, this wasn’t Stefan’s Andrew, but Neil knew that already. Life had turned Andrew Minyard into a man of manufactured emotions, a life of violence and misled decisions landing him on Coach Wymack’s pity party guest list that was the Foxes’ lineup. Andrew didn’t flinch looking at Neil, and Neil begged the universe to have erased the memory of Stefan from Andrew mind. He hung around a motel, for Christ’s sake, how many other people would he have met before and after Stefan? Neil Josten looked totally different, with puberty, hair dye and new contact lenses on his side.

The second mistake he made was not realising Kevin Day was going to be around. If Andrew wasn’t dangerous enough, Kevin was even more so. Neil couldn’t believe his eyes the moment he looked closely at the teams lineup from the previous year. Kevin Day would have forgotten Nathaniel Wesninski, he was sure of it, but to look across to a picture of the teams goalkeeper and seeing the short blond boy he met in California? It was a sure sign for Neil to stay the hell away from South Carolina.

Neil’s biggest mistake was deciding to push his luck and take a plane there to sign with the Foxes. He was signing a death wish; but he didn’t care anymore. He was a dead man walking, living off stolen hours. It was only a matter of time before someone caught up with him. His mother was dead, god, his mom, Mary Hatford, the woman who taught him how to be. It wasn’t just like Debby, who died leaving Toronto, or Alice, who died leaving London, or Judy who died on the train between Germany and Prague. This was permanent, and Neil didn’t think he could run for much longer.

Andrew didn’t say anything during their meeting, in which he had plenty of opportunities to at least look like he recognised Neil, or the features of Stefan still left on his face. Kevin didn’t say anything either, and his words made it clear he didn’t remember Nathaniel, either. Neil was walking a thing line between life and death, with Stefan on one shoulder and Nathaniel on the other, waiting to tip him over, to expose the truth, to leave him buried like his mother.

The first night Neil slept - or more so lay on the couch in silence for hours, brain filled with noise and regret - in David’s apartment, he couldn’t stop thinking about Andrew. He couldn’t stop thinking about the kid with white-blond hair and a toothy smile, who ran his fingers so gently over Stefan’s skin, like he would break if Andrew dared get any closer. He couldn’t stop thinking about the playground, and the motel, and the kisses… and the punches, the kicks, the pulling of hair, the slaps across the face with yells to accompany them. Before Neil knew it he was stuck with his face hovering over the toilet bowl, his stomach threatening to burst at any moment. After a minute of gagging and spitting into the water, Neil washed his face and headed towards the balcony that David told him to smoke on if he needed to. This was one of those needing to moments.

Weeks went by without any indication he was going to be caught. Kevin looked at him like a stupid amateur, which was good for Nathaniel’s sake, but for Neil? Neil, who fought like his life depended on the racquet in his hands? Neil, who ran like his father was hot on his heels every single time he set off down the court? It hurt him to be insulted so often, but Kevin was leagues above him when he played. Neil was never going to be good enough. Andrew avoided him as much as possible. Nicky told him that was just how Andrew was; if you brought him no benefit, or if you made him bored, he would put you on a high shelf and never look at you again. By the way Andrew only spoke to Neil when Neil stood up to Kevin, Neil thought it was obvious that Andrew didn’t recognise him.

And then came the invite to Columbia.

“Get rid of the contacts, by the way.” Nicky had brushed off the realisation like it was nothing. It sounded like ‘you have something in your teeth’ but felt like a screaming siren above Neil’s head. It felt like a punch to the gut, like a gun to his head. “Andrew’s decision. And brown, Neil? You’re so predictable and boring it’s adorable.” He’d left a bag of clothes with Neil.

When Neil looked at his blue eyes, he felt too many feelings he couldn’t describe, or name. He felt like he was looking at his father. He felt like he was looking into the mirror like he had the last time he was Nathaniel. The last time he was in Baltimore. He’d cycled through the catalogue of contacts during his time on the run, but never once went back to blue. They were the icy eyes of a murderer, not the eyes of quiet, boring Neil. But at least they weren’t green. Neil was worried about Kevin recognising him by his eyes, but it was going to be dark out by the time they left. Neil would just have to stay in the dark around Kevin, and hope he got too drunk to notice, too drunk to remember.

When Andrew’s group came to pick Neil up, there was a change in dynamic Neil hadn’t seen before. Instead of Nicky being the middle man in their conversations, or Kevin being the reason to talk, Andrew was taking charge of their night. Neil’s heart raced every time he looked into his eyes. Every time he heard that voice it told him to run, the same voice as before, only deeper, emotionless. Neil couldn’t imagine this Andrew crying. Neil couldn’t imagine this Andrew being open, about his sexuality, or his feelings. If he didn’t look almost the same only older, he would probably doubt this was even the same Andrew.

“Oh! Oh, now, that’s interesting!” Andrew had commented as Neil left his dorm room. Nicky, Aaron and Kevin had walked ahead of the two of them. When they’d disappeared around the corner into the elevator down, Andrew turned and grabbed Neil’s face to inspect it. “What a change, hmm? Blue to brown is a bit drastic for fashion, don’t you think?”

“I’ve never liked my eyes,” Neil spoke through the fingers that rested over his lips. “I’ve worn them brown most my life.” Andrew tutted as Neil spoke, but left that thought there. His features were angry, like Neil had insulted him, but he S miled like he’d been talking to his best friend. He placed a cigarette between his lips as they joined the others in the elevator.

Before long, they were walking through the doors of Eden’s Twilight, music pumping and swirling through the air, vibrating their bodies as they walked. Andrew motioned for Neil to follow him to the bar once they’d found a table.

“Shots on me.” He’d come down from his manic high, waiting for his dust adrenaline to kick in. His smile was gone, but his tone and way of speaking was still the same. “What do you drink?”

“I don’t,” Neil answered, having to yell over the music.

“Sure you do.” Andrew waved him off. “I’m being polite. What do you drink?” He asked again, as the bartender came over.

“A coke for me.” Neil told the man behind the bar before he could ask Andrew. “Just a little ice.”

“See, now, Pinocchio, when someone offers you a gift you say thank you and accept it.” Andrew turned towards the man. “Roland. This is Neil. He’s a newbie.”

“I hear you,” Roland nodded, already placing shot glasses on the tray he’d put on the bar. “My choice, with dash for the new kid.” He poured a clear spirit into eight shot glasses, and used the fountain tap to fill a larger glass with cola. Andrew passed cash over and waved off his change as a tip. Before Neil knew it he was heading through the crowd, Andrew balancing the tray on one hand held high above his head. They reached the table and nothing has spilled, and before Neil knew it, the shot glasses were stacked in a tower on the tray as Neil nursed his coke.

“You don’t drink.” Andrew turned to Neil after watching the others take to the dance floor, coming up on their high, dusting when they couldn’t be seen. “Why?”

“Hate the taste, mostly.” That would be the truth if ‘taste’ actually meant ‘feeling of being out of control of my body’. He shrugged at Andrew’s dissatisfaction with that answer.

“You come to university and you don’t drink?” Andrew scoffed. “Do you smoke?” Neil shook his head. He’d tried an edible by accident once in some cafe in Europe, and got so paranoid they had to move on that night. He swore he saw his dad staring in the windows in the red-light district, a blunt between his lips, a smile made of murder wrapped around it.

“Not for me.” Neil took a sip from the cold coke. “Hard to find when it’s not legal and I hate the cops. Takes too much effort to roll.” Neil lied, like he knew what he was talking about, but he just remembered watching people in the cities he went to, everywhere having their local stoners, the folks who sat in the parks without a care in the world.

“You don’t drink, you don’t smoke, you won’t dust.” Andrew rattled off the options. “Is it molly you’d prefer?” And when Neil shook his head again: “Psychedelics? Benzos?”

“I’m just not interested.” Neil looked into his glass, focusing on the ice. If he kept looking at Andrew he felt like he would crack. “Don’t we get tested before games anyway? What’s the point?” Andrew didn’t answer before he heading back up the bar. Neil didn’t follow this time. When he came back, there was ten shot glasses on the table. Again, eight filled with an unnamed spirit that burned Neil’s nose and twisted his stomach. The other two were cola.

“I’d hate for the new boy to feel left out.” Aaron, Nicky and Kevin had arrived back to the table for their shots. Andrew handed Neil one of his glasses. Neil knocked it back when the others did. It was ordinary coke, no surprises, no weird tastes, no reason for Neil to believe Andrew would have given him a shot of alcohol instead. That was, until he clinked glasses with the others and swallowed the second shot in a quick movement. He felt the alcohol burn his throat. It warmed his chest, but the familiar feeling wasn’t what worried him. It was the taste of salt on his tongue when he hadn’t licked any before hand. He quickly excused himself from the table and left for the bathroom.

Andrew had drugged him. He didn’t know why, but all he knew was the crackers were already coursing through his veins with deadly adrenaline. He was sure his racing heart wasn’t helping. It didn’t help, either, when Nicky reached the stairs before he did, and pulled him in for a salty, dusty kiss. Neil pushed him off as discreetly as he could.

“Nothing?” Nicky complained as he Neil bounced up the sticky stairs two steps at a time. Neil was sure he heard him say something about Neil being too hot to be straight, but the roaring anxiety in his ears was enough to drown it out. He locked himself in a stall and tried to best to throw up. He hadn’t eaten before he’d left, and he hadn’t drank anything other than he soda, so his attempts were fairly futile. A knock at the door interrupted him, and when he answered with a quick ‘occupied!’ He heard the door unlocking from the outside. Andrew pushed his way into the cramped stall and shut the door behind him. Before Neil could even begin to object Andrew had grabbed him by the collar and shoved him against the wall, Neil struggling to keep his balance with the toilet in the way.

“You don’t like the taste of alcohol or you’re afraid of losing control? Telling your truths?” Andrew’s drug induced smile had returned with mischief and malice. “Let’s see how this does!” His voice was low as he spoke, with an enthusiasm to his words that made Neil sweat. When he went to protest, Andrew covered his mouth with his free hand.

“Shut up,” He clicked his tongue. “You have spent your entire extended stay here lying to me and lying to poor, gullible Coach. I see the way you look at Kevin, too. Either you’re lying about not swinging or there’s something deeper to that intimidation.” Neil tried to get out a ‘I don’t swing.’ Before Andrew shushed him again. “Don’t keep lying, newbie! One last chance at honesty.” He lifted his hand no more than an inch from Neil’s mouth. Neil was sweating, his hands shaky, his mind turning into fog, desperate to cling to any sort of euphoria it could find. When it’s search came up empty, it filled his stomach, his head, his hands, his feet, with anxious buzzing instead. He couldn’t ignore the nauseating feelings the drugs brought with them.

“I don’t swing,” Neil stood his ground. “I don’t.” Andrew brought his hand up to Neils hair and yanked him down to his level, hard. He kept an inescapable grip in his curls as their faces almost touched.

“Still don’t know?” Andrew pouted in fake-pity. “Ten years later and you still don’t know?” Neil’s stomach would’ve fallen from his body if it’s got the chance. His heart would’ve went with it when Andrew continued. “There better be a good reason for Neil existing, Stefan, and I can’t wait to hear it.”

“What?” He tried, but it was no use. His voice failed him, cracking as the futile attempts at lying left his lips. “I don’t know what-“

“Shut up.” Andrew repeated. His grip not relaxing. Neil was worried he was pulling his hair from the root, but that was probably the least of his worries. Probably. “Do not lie to me again.” Neil searched his eyes for a sliver of doubt. A tiny, tiny possibility that he might think he was wrong. It wasn’t there. He’d been caught.

“Andrew.” He wrapped his hands around Andrew’s wrist, the one hovering over his head, muscles tense from the grip on his head. “Can we talk without ripping my fucking hair out?”

Before Neil could react, Andrew had let go of his hair, but in doing so, had swung his head with full force into the side walls of the stall. His balance finally failed him, but Andrew caught him by the neck of the black turtleneck he’d been gifted. He heard a few stitches pop, but it didn’t matter. The sudden movements turned Neil’s stomach with a violent wave, and he gagged hard, his stomach threatening to come out his mouth. He leaned over to spit into the toilet and bared his teeth at Andrew, breathing heavily through them.

“So he lives,” Andrew smiled, his pupils blown, a white-knuckled hold on Stefan-Neil’s collar. Neil was afraid he was going to pass out. His body was on fire, his mind screaming like an emergency broadcast alarm. “Tell me you didn’t know, oh humour me! I’d hate to think you’re stupid enough to come here still in possession of the memory from there.”

“I didn’t think you’d remember.” Neil didn’t break eye contact.

“So you ARE that stupid!” Andrew pushed him back, letting go of his top. Neil tried to assess his escape routes, but it was no use. He couldn’t get out of this. “I remembered little Stefan the second Kevin showed me your file. I didn’t think it would be you, surely it couldn’t be, but our little visit to fuckport, Arizona couldn’t lie to me like you did. So is it Neil, or is it Stefan?”

“Neither.” He spat out the honesty, worried if he waited, another lie would take it’s place. “But you can call me Neil.”

“Oh, no, no!” Andrew grabbed him by the neck, holding his jaw in a way that could become a choke very quickly. “Maybe I’ll stick with Stefan. You don’t get a say. You know, I thought mommy killed you.” A knife twisted in Neil’s gut.

“She’s dead.” Neil tried to breath through his unwanted come-up. “That’s the only reason I’m here. Because she wasn’t alive to stop me.”

“Did you do it?” He held Neils face like the world would end if he let go. He held even tighter when Neil tried to pull away.

“No.” That was all he said. He thought about continuing, considering the fact he was a dead man already. But he stopped himself. How could he say it was his dad without saying he was the mafias right-hand-murderer? Was he wasting his time lying?

“Didn’t think you did.” Andrew laughed, barely even blinking as he intimidated Neil. “No balls then, no balls now.”

“I was twelve.” He spat through crushed cheeks. “We were kids.”

“Old enough to be a liar.” Andrew let go of Neil’s face with a forceful push and turned to open the stall door. “You’re going to lead us outside. If you deviate or try to run I’ll kill you. I will kill you.” So Neil did just that. He led the way in silence, down the stairs and towards the exit. When Nicky stopped and excitedly asked where they were going, Neil looked back to Andrew who waved his pack of cigarettes, a smile on his face, no essence of a lie present. Neil just kept walking, kept his head down, and tried to ignore the pain on the side of his head. When they reached the outside of the club, the brisk air biting their exposed skin, Neil turned to the first man he saw, a club-goer at the top of the queue, and swung a punch up. Andrew noticed the second his hands left his sides, balled up with a plan. The man threw a hefty punch back, shouting intimidations, knocking Neil’s short frame to the ground. As quick as humanly possible, Andrew had hoisted him up, wrapped his arms around his back and twisted his wrist in such a way that a single jolt would break it. He held him in that position with one hand, putting all his strength into keeping Neil still.

“He gets crazy on tequila!” Andrew laughed, shaking his head as he took out his wallet and pulled out a fifty note. He threw it at the guy as compensation, his friends holding him back from beating Neil’s vulnerable, ballsy ass. He continued yelling as Andrew hauled him away. He grunted in pain as he refused to loosen his grip on Neil’s wrists. He walked him around the back of the club, to an empty, barely lit parking lot. He threw him to the ground so quickly he didn’t have time to stop his fall.

“Every moment I spend around you, you prove you’re much fucking dumber than I thought.” Andrew spat down, then crouching down to Neil’s level, balancing on the tops of his feet. Neil cradled his head, arms wrapped around the nape of his neck. He was sure he had a concussion. He could barely open his eyes through the pulsing blood rushing through his head, but forced himself to, to look up at Andrew’s smiling face.

“What happened?” Spit dripped down his chin, blood slowly trickling from the busted lip he’d earned himself. “What happened to that Andrew?” Andrew froze for half a second, and Neil noticed. “The Andrew who cried because he was gay? The kid who actually fucking cared about anything?”

“Oh, you are treading thin fucking ice for someone who doesn’t know how to swim.” Andrew tilted his head. “Mention another precious memory and I won’t hesitate to actually break your wrist next time.”

“Why?” He spat blood at Andrew’s feet. “Afraid somebody might remember what you’re actually like when you’re not pretending to be a sociopath?” Andrew opened his mouth at the challenge, a smile creeping up one side of his face. “Are you afraid to actually have someone around you know anything about you? I’m a threat. That’s all you care about.” He continued. “What, do you think I’ll use it against you? You’ve been treating me like shit since we met. If I was going to stab you in the back I’d have done it already, asshole.”

“Since we met, again.” He corrected the most irrelevant part of Neils sentiment.

“Let me go now and I’ll move on. You won’t ever see me again.” Neil bargained. Andrew’s eyebrows twitched ever so slightly. “This time I’ll get a chance to say goodbye.”

“No,” Andrew stopped him. “You don’t get to arrive in to my life like a tornado and disappear. You don’t get to dig your own grave and push me into it.” He bent down to get closer to Neils shaking face. “You’re going to tell me exactly what happened first. Tell me what she did to you.”

“No.” Neil strained. “I moved on. You were dangerous. You almost got me killed.”

“Boohoo, do you hear my tiny violin, liar?” Andrew grabbed a hold of his hair again. Neil let out a cry of pain, trying to pry Andrew’s fingers from his scalp. “Talk. Talk or I will get you killed.”

“My father is a very dangerous man. He’s murdered more people than there are days in a year.” Neil wiped the blood from his lips. It stung as he did so, but it didn’t matter. He took out a small stack of IDs from his wallet and threw them across to Andrew. For a second, anyone would’ve thought they were real, but closer inspection killed that thought. Andrew was holding a driver’s license belonging to Chris Angle, 21, from New York. A European passport card signed by George Debois from Paris. A gym membership from Seattle, an employee pass from Toronto, two more drivers licenses from cities across the globe. All the names were different, but they didn’t belong to different people. They all had pictures of Neil on them. Some he had long hair, short hair, an unfortunate buzz-cut. He wore a beard in some, the baby face of a teenager in others. “You aren’t the only one I’ve lied to. Don’t think you’re special.” Andrew snapped the IDs with angry force. Neil took a deep breath, knowing the last memories of his mother were buried in the face of Christopher Hart, snapped in half, just like that. He continued searching through his wallet. Deep into the card pockets of the tattered leather. He didn’t look up when he heard Andrew drop the scraps of his identities on the ground. Neil found what he was looking for and threw it again, across the space separating them, it clattering by his feet. “If my mom found that she’d have killed me herself. We ran so she could protect me. I made that so much harder on her by meeting you.” Andrew inspected the card he’d been thrown. An under-eye twitch and a slow inhale accompanied his realisation. “You want to hate me for what she made me do, fine, but it was inevitable. You were never going to be the reason that made us stay.”

Neil had given Andrew something he couldn’t bare to part with. His old wallet stayed buried deep, deep in his belongings, so well hidden his mother hadn’t even known it existed. He usually kept his current IDs on his person, and never in a wallet. It was a ticking time bomb, but Neil needed something. He needed a reason to feel, and if that was the memory of the good day his mom had had when they finally showered after weeks of baby wipes and deodorant, it was something to hold on to. Neil had to stay grounded in some sort of reality. He was on the run, sure, but the people he met, the things he’d done? They were real. It hurt to see those memories snapped on the ground like trash, but Andrew didn’t snap the memory he held in his hands.

Andrew held the library card of Stefan Montgomery. It had a faded black and white photo on it, scratched out with time. He had begged the librarian to let him have the card without taking a picture, but she had insisted it was necessary so people didn’t have more than one. In the photo was a scared little boy, a gash on his cheek, with crispy curls and a skinny face. Neil remembered walking to the library when he couldn’t find Andrew, taking out books to help him learn any of the languages he needed to know. The library in Oakland taught him about the history of Spain, and the culture in France. There was something about Stefan that Neil didn’t want to forget. He’d kept that library card safe as if it were a lifeline, like he knew it would come in handy some day.

And then Andrew threw it across the empty parking lot like a frisbee.

“She didn’t see anything.” Neil tried, as if it would help. “We left because I made a friend. Not because… you know.”

“I was not your friend.” Andrew stood up and put a cigarette between his teeth. He lit it, one puff, two puff, three puffs until it burned red. “I was never your friend.”

“You were.” Neil struggled to stand up and join him. “Don’t lie to a liar.”

“You remember it wrong!” He took a short drag and flicked ash as he spoke. “You were a toy to play with when there was nothing else to do.”

“You could’ve went home.” Neil took the cigarette from Andrew’s fingers. “But hey, I wasn’t the only one who needed to escape heavy hands, right?” He pulled the smoke into his lungs and breathed out before flicking the barely smoked cigarette away. “You were my friend. You had Stefan killed because I cared about you when Stefan wasn’t supposed to care about anybody.”

“Be quiet.” Andrew pulled another cigarette from the packet and squared up to Neil who was standing so close he could feel Andrew’s breath hot on his face. “You didn’t care.”

“Are you listening?” Neil spat again, the heat of the cigarette having hurt his cracked lips. “We left because of you. Because I let you in, and I’m sorry you were collateral damage in our war against the world but fuck, we didn’t have a choice. Do you think I wanted to leave? I was going to leave you a note, but she wouldn’t leave my side until we were in another city and Stefan was just another name in the pile. Fuck you if you don’t want to believe that. I don’t owe you an explanation but you’ve got one anyway. Tell me to leave and I’ll go. Tell me you understand and I’ll go, Andrew.”

“I waited for you.” Andrew exhaled honestly through cigarette smoke. “Every day! The fourth day I tried knocking on the door of your motel room. Fifth day a random couple opened the door and I knew you weren’t coming back. Why should I give you another chance, hmm? When you so easily could run away before, who’s to say you won’t do it again?”

“I’m not asking for another chance,” Neil head was pounding. He felt like he could pass out, his ears ringing and body jittery. “I don’t know, maybe I’m asking you to remember what I meant to you.” Andrew pursed his lips at that. He was struggling to keep his composure, like the memory of before was chipping away slowly at this version of Andrew. He was holding himself together with twitches and small fidgets.

“I hate you.” He said, coldly. He had lit his cigarette and smoked through half of it before speaking again. Neil just stood, suddenly thinking about if Kevin were to find the IDs scattered on the floor. He didn’t even think he could lie to Nicky about that. He would pick them up in a moment, but he couldn’t afford to lose Andrew’s interest in the conversation. If Neil got distracted now he could ruin every chance he possible had at reconciling some sort of relationship with Andrew.

“I hate what the world has turned you into.” Andrew snorted a laugh at Neil’s dramatics.

“Oh, you are a pipe bomb.” Andrew started to walk away, but when Neil grabbed his arm to stop him, in a quicker movement he had twisted Neil’s arm in some sort of self defence move that hurt. “You don’t have a right to touch me anymore. Keep your lying hands to yourself or I’ll break every one of your fingers.” He didn’t let go immediately.

“Do you miss it?” Neil searched Andrew’s eyes for something, anything. “Being vulnerable? Being comforted instead of being alone, blaming the world for your problems?” Before Neil could even think to keep going, Andrew had used his free hand to manoeuvre a knife from his arm bands and hold it up to Neil’s face.

“I dare you to keep pushing.” His words were casual, but a threat nonetheless. “Stop trying to control a life you left. I won’t be a scratching post for your mommy issues, runaway.”

“What did Jakub do to you?” Neil brought a memory out from the depths. As soon as the name left his lips, Andrew’s entire body hardened and his eyes turned to glass. He slashed a cut into Neil’s cheekbone without hesitation and proceeded to let go of his arm and jam a thumb into the fresh wound. “Why did you spend your childhood alone in a playground?” Neil spoke through gritted teeth.

“If you want to keep your fantasy alive I advise you to really shut up now.” Andrew pushed him backwards, a final squeeze in the gash as he did so. Even more blood dripped down his face. Andrew wiped his hands in his pants and picked up the ignored cigarette he’d dropped in the altercation. “You are going in circles. This is your last warning.”

“My mom nearly broke half the bones in my body trying to get rid of the memory of you.” Neil took his spot back up so close to Andrews face he could practically see every one of the pores in his face. He still had freckles scattered across his face, his skin soft, with faint acne scars here and there across his cheeks. “I never stopped thinking about you.”

“You should have.” Andrew threw his cigarette at Neil. “Make your choice. Run like you’re used to.” He looked him up and down one more time and turned on his feet back towards the club. Neil didn’t follow. He started to pick up the remnants of his past and he felt his nose ache in psychosomatic pain, remembering a nose-breaking punch his mother threw when Neil dared asked if they could stay. He spat again, still trying to get the salty taste out of his mouth. His hands were shaking so badly he could barely hold onto the shards of plastic evidence of who he used to. After picking them all up he had to stop, and sit down. He was afraid he was having a panic attack, and he couldn’t tell if it was because of the drugs still ravishing his system, or if it was because of Andrew. Maybe it was both. It probably was. He didn’t think he could’ve spoken the truth if he wasn’t high, but God, if he were sober it would’ve been so much easier to run. High Neil was emotional Neil, empathetic Neil, hurt Neil. He’d only had the experience of being really, genuinely high a few times, and every single time just reminded him how much he hated the feeling of being out of control. Of his nerves, his feelings, every fibre in his being misfiring and doing the opposite to what he wanted. His brain was begging him to feel the chemicals it was pumping out, but all it did was amplifying the aching feeling in his chest. He let out a noise that didn’t quite resemble a cry, or a sigh, or a grunt. It was a noise born from pain, a mixture of anxiety and heartbreak, maybe. He wasn’t sure what that felt like. Maybe this was it.

He tried to steady his breath and he stumbled across the empty lot. The booming bass from the music at Eden’s practically shook the ground as he walked, at least, it sure felt like it did. He stumbled as he reached down to pick up the library card so carelessly thrown away. It hurt him even more looking at Stefan, feeling this pang in his stomach that wished things could’ve been different. He didn’t think he liked Andrew like that, and being on the same team was just the destruction of a childhood crush. Neil tried to come up with excuses in his head to how Andrew felt, but it was obvious he had thrown Stefan into the bad memories pile a long, long time ago. Neil showing up again just ripped through Andrew’s closure, and knowing he had feelings beneath what he showed, he was probably hurting too. It didn’t seem like it, but maybe he was. Neil had put the ID away, and looked around. He had no real idea where he was, or how to get home. Before he knew it, he was sprinting away from the club, going nowhere, going anywhere but there. His head wasn’t in a place to decide that he should stay. He’s worth it. His heart raced at the thought of Andrew’s face, looking down at the long unused library card. He’s worth it. Neil couldn’t look back. He was wondering what Andrew was telling the others, and if they would believe him. He wondered if he’d told Nicky about Neil’s Idontknow sexuality, and that’s why Nicky thought it okay to kiss him. But he didn’t feel anything with Nicky. He didn’t look at anyone in the way he looked at Andrew. He ran and ran and ran until he’d sweat out the drugs, until his head was more focused on trying to breathe than it was on Andrew, and his mom. It took a while, and he was lost when he stopped. Unfamiliar streets, him a stranger in someone else’s hometown. Maybe that made things worse. This feeling was too familiar. Lost, lost, lost. Sometimes lost became familiar, became home. He didn’t think he could be un-lost again.

-

Part 3

[brrrritscoldinhere]

Brief mention of sex (but nothing explicit), brief relationship abuse, a lot of cursing, and heavy angst (idk if i know how to write angst but :D)

“Sirius?”

Sirius looked up from the ground to find a certain werewolf with a frown on his face. The rest of his expression remained neutral, even his eyes. Classic Remus Lupin, never showed his true emotions. Always so blank.

“Mm?” Sirius murmured, not meeting the other boy’s eyes so he couldn’t see the turmoil in them.

“You look,” Remus started, pausing awkwardly and rubbing the back of his neck, “sad.”

Sirius, with as much effort as he could muster, forced a hopefully convincing smile onto his lips. “I’m not. Just tired. You know, with exams and all.”

Remus paused again before slowly saying, “Exams are three months away.” He raised an eyebrow. “Even the teachers haven’t started pestering us on revision yet.”

Sirius mentally slapped himself. “Well, uh, I’m revising a bunch myself. It’s tiring, you know?”

Remus didn’t say anything back, just stared at him with those emotionless eyes of his.

“Well, I, uh, have go get going now. James wants me to... hang out with him.” Sirius internally cringed at his lie. “See you, Moons.”

As Sirius turned away, Remus asked abruptly, “It’s not about your boyfriend, is it? What’s his name, Philipp?”

Sirius froze before turning back to face the werewolf, faux smile already forming across his face. “No, of course not! Why would you think that?”

Remus stared at him with narrowed eyes before turning and walking away.

The truth was, Philipp had been the first to approach Sirius. Blonde, tall and good looking, Sirius had taken to him immediately. They both seemed to have the same humour and interests, and were able to hold on conversations for hours on end. They were like a perfect match.

It wasn’t long before Sirius started catching feelings. He hadn’t really liked someone in years, only going for flings and one night stands. But Philipp, he’d thought, was different from the others. Philipp was the guy who understood him most, apart from his best friends.

Sirius had confessed and they started dating immediately. Philipp was always one to initiate touches, which Sirius warmly welcomed. But James, Peter and even Remus showed discomfort whenever they had kissed or brought their hands just a little too low for others’ eyes. It made Sirius a little annoyed.

“It’s not that we don’t like you being with him, you look happy,” James had said when Sirius confronted them about it. “It’s just that... we barely know Philipp. And it’s a little... awkward whenever you guys get a little... handy.”

Peter scoffed. “That’s to put it mildly. You two were nearly having sex in the common room while we were trying to study. You had half your shirt off, Sirius.”

Sirius narrowed his eyes as anger began to brew in his stomach. “Like you’re any better, Wormy, you and your girlfriend in the dorms—"

Peter glared at him. “Shut up.”

Sirius had felt a sick sense of satisfaction before Remus cut in. “You both shut your mouths. This isn’t going anywhere. Simplest solution to this? Keep it in your goddamn pants until you’re alone. If that’s too much, do a quickie in a fucking bathroom or something.”

Sirius let out a huff before rolling his eyes. “Fine. Whatever. I’m going to go find Philipp.”

Now, Sirius regretted ever having anything to do with his boyfriend.

As they days passed, Philipp grew more and more obsessed and possesive over Sirius, not letting the boy talk to anyone without him just beside the boy, and looking through any letters he got and delivered. It crossed the line when Philipp started sorting out through letters Sirius had gotten from his family. The argument ended in screams and insults thrown at each other, which caused Sirius to nearly cry. They made up with sex a few hours later, though.

Sirius realised that, the morning after when he had woken up with his boyfriend gone from the bed, Philipp had never apologised once.

It got to the breaking point when Philipp suggested he stopped talking to the Marauders while they were sitting on the grass outside.

“What?” Sirius nearly yelled, turning his head to Philipp. “What do you mean, stop talking to them? That’s utter fucking bullshit! They’re my goddamn friends, Phil, you can’t just tell me not to ghost them!”

Philipp narrowed his eyes. “Fine. It’s either me or them, Sirius. Choose between us.”

Sirius was frozen, thoughts muddled and in a whirlwind. Philipp or the Marauders? It was supposed to be an obvious choice, an easy one. But Sirius couldn’t decide. Why didnhe even have to decide? Why couldn’t he have both?

But Sirius shook his head, eyes narrowing. “No. They were here for me first. You can’t just expect me to abandon my friends because you want me to. Especially after all the shit you’ve done to me.”

“I was trying to protect you!” Philipp roared, making Sirius flinch back. “I wanted the best for you! Clearly your so-called friends want me out of the picture because they’re jealous of the time we spend together!”

Before Sirius could even open his mouth to speak, Philipp raised a hand, and the other boy flinched back horribly.

A hand caught Philipp’s a centimetre away from Sirius’ cheek.

“Well. I see that this date is going well?”

Sirius raised his head to find Remus holding back Philipp’s hand. He shoved the blonde boy back, standing in front of Sirius, as if guarding him.

“Listen mate, you’re not really in any position to hit my best friend,” Remus said impassively. “Either hands off of him from now on or I’m reporting you.”

Philipp laughed, a manic, crazy sound. “Please, I’m his boyfriend. Do you think I’ll listen to you? Do you think he’ll listen to you?”

Remus raised an eyebrow and faced Sirius. “Well? You want to stay with this crazy bastard then, Sirius?”

Sirius swallowed, glancing at Philipp and back to Remus, hesitating. However, the few seconds of silence seemed to make Remus understand. His expression turned icy, back straightening. He nodded.

“I’ll be taking my leave now.”

Remus started walking away, and Philipp hung an arm around Sirius’ shoulders. “Bitch. Called me a crazy bastard.”

Sirius shrugged off his arm and ran towards where Remus had disappeared into the castle, ignoring Philipp’s shouts of his name.

“Remus?” Sirius yelled when he entered the common room. He found the werewolf curled up in an armchair, holding a book.

His hands were shaking.

“Remus?” Sirius whispered, walking towards the werewolf timidly.

“I don’t know why you’re with him,” Remus said suddenly, voice sharp. “Do you not see what he’s doing to you? He’s fucking crazy! He’s obsessed with controlling you and he hates knowing that you’re hanging with other people, even though they’re all clearly your friends. He’s toxic as fuck, he makes you second guess yourself constantly. Don’t even try to deny it, I’ve seen it happen more times than I can count. He does things to your head, Sirius. He’s fucked up. Why can’t you just see that?”

Sirius kept quiet, tears brimming in his eyes as the truth was forcefully shoved into his face. He knew he had realised this long ago, but only now was he coming to terms with it. Only now was he accepting the truth. So fucking stupid.

“You deserve more than him,” Remus croaked, voice breaking. It shattered Sirius’ heart. “You deserve so much more. But you won’t let yourself have it.”

Sirius felt tears spill down his cheeks.

“And it fucking hurts to know that I’m not worth enough for you.”

Sirius snapped his head up to look at Remus, whose eyes were closed tightly, but tears still streamed down his face.

“Remus,” Sirius whispered, voice broken.

“I’m sorry,” Remus whispered, pained breaths hissing through his clenched teeth. “I knew he was bad for you— but you looked so happy. I didn’t want to take that away. I— I knew I had no right to say anything, because I’m no better than him. And when he started— started acting like an asshole, I didn’t want to say anything. You were already so mad at James and Peter for telling you to stop being so touchy with him in front of them, how would you react if I told you he was a toxic bitch? What if you hated me? What if you thought that I was trying to, I don’t know, break you two apart?”

“Remus, please,” Sirius whispered brokenly.

“He was your everything,” Remus muttered. “And I... I’m nothing to you.”

Sirius didn’t even think. He just ripped the book from Remus’ hands and pressed his lips against the werewolf’s, grief and sadness and overwhelming emotion fuelling the kiss.

It was a mess of feelings and tears, and the ever growing need to be nearer to each other. It was pure, raw, and nothing like they’d ever experienced in their lives.

They broke apart after a few seconds, staring into each other’s eyes before Remus pushed him off.

“Sirius, no,” Remus whispered, not looking at him. “No. I’m— no. This— we can’t happen.”

Sirius glared at him. “And tell me why. Why it can’t work. Because, Remus, I seem to fucking like you. And it seems you do too, judging from that kiss we just had.”

“You’re still with Philipp,” Remus muttered.

“I’ll break up with him.”

They stayed silent for a while, before Sirius whispered, “If it’s because you think you’re not worthy of me, Remus Lupin, you’ve never been more wrong in your entire life.”

Remus sucked in a breath.

“You’re one of the smartest people I know,” Sirius said quietly. “You’re compassionate, kind, and caring as fuck. You don’t show it, but I can see through your facade. You’re determined when you want something, and you fight for it. You’re fucking amazing, Remus. You hold this— this fire in your eyes, and it’s like it’s driving you forward every day. Anything you face, you do it with as much courage and bravery anyone could possibly have. You’re— you’re a beacon, Rem. You’re a light that gives me direction. And I— I think I love you for that. I think I love you. And you being a werewolf doesn’t change any of that. An added bonus that you’re pretty cute, too.”

Finally, finally, a laugh from Remus. It sounded so much better than the ragged sobs he’d been trying to hide.

“I’ll break up with him,” Sirius murmured, nuzzling into Remus’ side, hands coming up to wipe away the tears on the werewolf’s face.

“What if he doesn’t let you?”

Sirius chuckled. “I’ll get James. And Lily.”

“You’re really trying to scare him shitless, really? Those two?”

Sirius shrugged. “Hey. He deserves it.”

Remus laughed, a breathy sound that was rarely heard by anyone. “That, I agree.”

[pansyslut]

If only

femme fatale!reader x draco

requested by @beiahadid | based on the song acquainted by the weekend

warnings: spanking, choking if you squint, penetration, lap dance, guns

baby you're no good

'cause they warned me 'bout your type girl

he watched you as you seductively swayed your hips against the girl next to you. moving your body suggestively as you caress yourself from your breasts all the way down to your center.

the club was dim and was only lit with red lights which was only adding to your desirable look. you turned around and grabbed the girl by her waist drawing her in close to you. kissing up and down her neck slowly and making your way to her breasts. you licked up to her ear and whispered seductively to her.

draco watched in awe as he couldn’t help but wonder what you had whispered to the girl. his eyes couldn’t help but dart across your figure. to your ass, to your waist, to your lips. he wanted so badly to take you home tonight.

realizing he was lost in his thoughts, he looks back up and meets your eye. winking at him, you saunter off to the VIP area. his disappointment was short lived as he saw a bouncer making his way over to him, telling him that his presence was requested.

pushing past the diamond curtain beads and the VIP door, he finds you draped on the sofa smoking a blunt. with hundred dollar bills scattered on the floor, he almost thought you were a prostitute. but glancing over you, he realized you held yourself different. your whole demeanor screamed importance and elegance. you looked so sure, so in control.

you got me puttin' time in, time in

nobody got me feeling this way

you probably think i'm lying, lying

i’m used to bitches comin' right 'way

he was so used to feeling dominate around women- used to feeling so powerful. a small part of the man felt unease. pushing the thought away, he walks over to you and sits down on the sofa.

finally, he realizes your attire. instead of just looking at your body, he drinks you in, taking notice of your latex dress and knee high black boots. he could see your black lace bra peaking through but forced his eyes to look away realizing he probably looked like a perv.

smirking, you propped yourself up on your elbow and looked up at him. laughing to yourself, “i’ve got to admit draco, i was expecting you to look different. it’s a shame you’re so pretty,” you say now frowning and running a finger across his jaw.

he swallows as his eyes grow confused. his mind was running wild, how the hell did she know my name? maybe i’m just that important. he realizes that you probably saw his confused expression to see you shaking your head, “but that’s not the matter now. because right now, i want to have fun.”

connecting your lips to his, all his worries fade away. he had no idea who this girl is or what she wanted but right now his whole body yearned for her. after watching her dance and her relentless teasing, he had grown painfully hard in his pants.

you push him down roughly and cradle him. ripping off his shirt, the buttons fly everywhere. feeling up and down his chest, you lean in to kiss him. he immediately obliges, intertwining your hair with his fingers as your tongues dance playfully.

i'll get you touchin' on your body

i know i’d rather be complacent

but girl i’m so glad we're acquainted

rubbing your center against his growing member, his hands massage your breasts under your dress. unzipping you and throwing your dress to the side, you start to sway your body to the music.

grabbing his throat, you sit him up and sit on his lap facing awak from him. although the music wasn’t as loud as in the club, that was the last thing on his mind. he watched you swivel your hips to the faint beat and twist around him. grinding harshly, he could see you soaking through your laced thong.

“fuck babe, you’re absolutely soaked,” he said, teasing the outer corners, daring to slip a finger in. unzipping his pants and shoving his boxers out the way, he lets his cock spring free.

you gently rub yourself over his tip, listening to him panting harder behind you. sitting fully on him but not taking him in, you grab one of his hands from behind you and placed it on your breast. now leaning against his chest, you whisper “are you gonna do something about it?”

hearing him curse under his breath, he grips your hips and throws you onto the couch. grabbing your ass as you arch your back, he send a smack to it making you moan.

“i’m done with your teasing princess,” he plunges into you making both of you moan in return. you were so used to being in control but you figured that since what was going to take place after this, you should let him enjoy himself.

getting at a good pace, the room is filled with both of your moans and the sounds of your thighs hitting each other with an occasional smack to your ass.

“look at you all spread out for me, what a whore.”

although draco was all talk, you both knew you were the one in control here. you decided you were done with listening so you pushed him out of you and stradeled him once again.

jumping up and down as you grip his hair, he runs his hands up your thighs. his hands stop moving as he feels something solid agianst your leg. you watch his eyes widen, as he finally realizes the small revolver you have strapped to your outer thigh.

pinning his hands down, you continue to bounce, chasing after your orgasm. he looked unsure of what to do but let you continue nonetheless.

finally reaching your euphoric state, you lean against his chest trying to catch your breath. you look up and meet his eyes. looking up at him innocently, you pout. “what is it, daddy? we were having so much fun.”

he watches as an evil smirk plasters your face as you lift from his lap. you stand in front of him now with only your undergarments but instead of looking at your body, this time his eyes are glued to your thigh.

he scolded himself internally for not noticing the gun before. how could he be so stupid? he fell directly into your trap and you got exactly what you wanted.

the fast life keeps gaining on me, shit (the fast life keeps gaining on me)

but ever since i met you (ever since i met you)

i couldn't believe what you did

you reach for your gun and shake your head at the man sitting in shock before you. thinking to yourself, if only men didn’t only think with their dicks.

walking around the couch, eyeing him, you take notice of the dark mark on his forearm. sighing to yourself, “i wasn’t lying before. it really is a shame-” you cut off to see him making a run towards the door. he jiggles it and bangs himself against it.

he hears you laugh wickedly behind him. turning back around, he listens to your manic, hysterical laughing. “you- you really thought,” you pause trying to catch your breath, “that i would be stupid enough to not lock the door?” suddenly your face stiffens and turns emotionless. “naughty, naughty boy. do sit down, and next time if you feel the urge to go for a run, remember i’m the one with a gun.”

your eyes don’t leave him as he slowly walks back to the couch. “like i was saying before i was rudely interrupted, it’s a shame that you value daddy’s opinion so much. i never did like a boy who couldn’t think for himself,” you say now pointing the gun in front of you.

you could tell he was trying to collect himself and stay calm but his body language screamed anything but that. gulping, he finally answers, “baby, let’s talk about this. put the gun down.”

scowling at him, “for future reference, i don’t like boys telling me what to do either,” shooting him blank in the head. walking up to him, you can’t help but admire your work. you thank merlin that the ministry sent you on the mission alone. you definitely enjoyed yourself.

as soon as they got word draco was trying to group up the death eaters again, there was immediately a warrant out for him and they sent out their best to capture him. many failed, but now you could pride yourself of the job at hand.

grabbing your coat and throwing it over your shoulder, you saunter off after throwing a wink towards the bouncers direction. oh, if only men thought with something other than their dicks.

a/n: okay i feel like this definitely isn’t my best work but i wanted to try writing something different and i feel bad for all the requests sitting in my inbox :/

[bold-writing]

The One With Silver Scars || 8 || Bleeding Innocence

Warnings: Swearing, descriptions of abuse, violence.

Words: 2700+

Previous || Next

~8~

All the years spent under the thumbs of her parents, Adelais learned skills that most people would disregard as useless. Among those was sleeping in some of the most uncomfortable conditions. She had slept on the stone-cold concrete of the basement floor, nothing to soften the surface or keep her warm. The drafty space of the attic where she encountered a disturbing number of bugs, only a moldy rug between her and the wood. Forced to stand in one place that would result in punishment if they found she had moved come morning.

 Sitting propped against the wall is far from the worst sleeping spot she had encountered so far.

 When her eyes opened the sight that greeted her was Claire and Marcia spooned together on one bed and Casey stretched out on the other. It must have been early; she woke at 4 in the morning like she was on a damned wind-up clock. But this was different. She hadn’t woken from the routine she had built up over the years, something had woken her.

That’s when she noticed there was more lighting in the room than there should have been. Only the small lights on the backwall were on, leaving just the faintest glow above the heads of the other girls.

 Casting her eyes to her left, she kept herself carefully emotionless when she came face to face with the body of Dennis and Patricia—because it was clearly not them—smiling at her almost manically. Wearing what seemed to be a black and yellow tracksuit, the zipper of the coat undone enough to show a plain white shirt beneath. Legs were crossed and he rested his back against the doorframe so he could face her.

 “Hello,” she greeted quietly, trying not to wake the other three.

 How many personalities did this person have? Which was the original?

 “I’m Hedwig,” he responded. The lisp that altered his words slightly caused her a moment of shock—a child? “How do you sleep like that?” he inquired a moment later, tipping his head to the side as he regarded how she was sitting against the wall—actually quite similar to him, since her legs were crossed, and her hands were tucked together in her lap.

 His voice was slightly louder than hers. Doubtless enough to wake the others soon. “Practice,” was her calm response.

 Before he even opened his mouth, Adelais lifted a finger to her lips to convey his need to be quiet. He paused at the commend, his smile dimming as his expressed became a mix of a frown and a pout.

 “You’ll wake them up,” she explained quietly, using the same finger she had shushed him with to point over to Marcia and Claire.

 The scoff he released as more like air pushed between his bottom lip and his top teeth, like someone blowing a raspberry. “So?”

 Ducking her head closer to him, like a secret was being shared, Adelais kept her eyes carefully trained on his. “I don’t want to wake them; they’re mean to me.” His expression hardened, finally looking similar to Dennis. “They say I’m crazy.”

 Hedwig sucked on his lip, maintaining the sour look on his face. “The others used to be mean to me,” he responded in a much quieter tone. “But Miss. Patricia and Mr. Dennis keep the others away. Now, Miss. Patricia sings to me sometimes—she’s not mad at me anymore.” He smiled, but it wobbled slightly as he tried to mask the turmoil of emotions welling to the surface.

 Adelais’s answering smile was sad. “It must be nice to have someone who takes care of you.”

 “Who-who takes care of you?” Hedwig shuffled forward, separating from the doorframe to put less space between them.

 She shook her head. “No one, I take care of myself.”

 With the innocence only a child could have, he frowned at her words. “That sounds lonely.”

 “It is. Mr. Dennis has been keeping me company. When he can. I’m sure he’s very busy so he usually has to leave. Does he know you’re here?”

 A look of panic came to his face and Adelais knew she had asked the wrong question. “No-no…no, he’ll be angry if he knows I took the light.” Pulling back abruptly, the shifting of the keys next to him on the floor was enough to alert Marcia and Claire, who jerked up with dual gasps of fright.

 Hedwig looks over at them, panicked again.

 “I was quiet!” he declared to Adelais, his voice still in a whisper. He looked upset, afraid—it was how she used to look when she was younger and had displeased her mother. Waiting for the yelling or lashing to start, punishment for disobedience. “I-I was quiet!”

 Nodding her head calmly, she hoped she conveyed assurance with the small smile she allowed. “You were. It’s okay. You did nothing wrong.” Thankfully, the devastated look on his face softened before there was the threat of tears.

 Marcia and Claire were whispering Casey’s name, trying to wake up the other girl as well. It drowned out what Hedwig and Adelais were saying to one another, keeping the quiet assurance between the two of them. She half expected Hedwig to leave now that the girls were awake—Casey jolted up with a gasp once she realized there was someone else in the room—but he just turned himself around to lean on the side of the doorframe closest to her.

 The upset already forgotten.

 Silence stretched for a moment as he smiled at the others. “I’m Hedwig,” he finally declared, so similar to his introduction to her. “I have red socks.”

 The simplicity of youthful minds.

 His expression shifted then, the smile disappearing as he bit at his lip like someone dying to tell a secret. “He’s on the move.” Looking over his shoulder to where Adelais was still leaning against the wall, the manic smile returned as he ducked his head while supressing a laugh.

 Casey’s voice was raspy from sleep. “What?”

 The giggle escaped, Hedwig turning his head away. Excited to know something they didn’t. “He’s…on…the…move,” he repeated slowly, drawing out the last word like the last note of a song.

 “Mr. Dennis?” Adelais asked quietly, though she already suspected he was talking about someone quite different.

 “Nope,” he responded, popping the ‘p’ as grinned at her. Ducking his head, he turned the grin on the other three. “Someone’s coming for you, and you’re not gunna like it.” Next, he faced Adelais. “They make noises in their sleep. I thought you were dead.”

 Marcia interrupted quietly, “Tell us.”

 He looked like he wanted to, opening and closing his mouth like he couldn’t quite decide what he wanted to say. Instead, he declared “I’m not supposed to say” while turning his head to look out into the other room, where Dennis and Adelais would stand for the few minutes of quiet. “But!” he continued, turning back, “He’s done awful things to people and he’ll do awful things to you. I have blue socks, too.”

 “We’re his food?”

 Hedwig extended his arms in an ‘I dunno’ gesture, making a face while doing so. He nearly smacked Adelais with his hand as he stretched back but she quickly lifted her leg until her knee was drawn up to her chest. The rush of blood back into her feet set them aflame with pins and needles. She dutifully ignored the sensations.

 Casey leaned forward, dawning with realization. “How old are you?”

 “Nine,” he declared proudly.

 “So you’re not the guy that took us?”

 She’s as hopeless as the other two.

 Adelais resisted the urge to roll her eyes as Hedwig scoffed at her. When she confirmed that he wasn’t Patricia, either, he made a face. “What are you, blind?” Then to Adelais, slightly quieter, “Is she?”

 “No, just ignorant,” she answered just as quietly. “But be careful, she’s smarter than the others.” Hedwig leaned closer to her, nearly falling from against the doorframe, as he met her gaze. Her whispered warning was so quiet, she knew the others couldn’t understand her. He frowned with concentration. “She lies.”

 Casey spoke over her, almost drowning out Adelais’s whispered warnings. “You don’t know how they think?”

 “No, they don’t tell me much. I just had a hot-dog.” Adelais wasn’t sure if it was the shortness of his attention, or a smart trick to throw someone off the current topic, but the random bits of information was actually clever. Not enough to deter the three teens, but still clever.

 “Could you help us, Hedwig?”

 Similar to her question earlier, Hedwig recoiled. “No, I’m…I’m not even supposed to be here. I stole the light from Mr. Dennis, but he’ll be back real soon and…I can’t steal the light for too long for he’ll know and get angry.” His concern was real; he knew he would get in trouble for doing someone he was told not to. Yet, the curiosity of a nine-year-old was a powerful thing. “Et cetera.”

 Looking between the three on the cots, his eyes darting back and forth, he suddenly reached back and gave Adelais’s leg a playful shove—it was stronger than that of a child, using the strength housed in the adult body he lived within. “See ya!”

 “Wait,” Casey blurted out. Hedwig stopped while still crouched at the door, reaching back to grab the doorhandle as he prepared to close it behind him. His attention was caught, however, as he glanced back at Casey.

 “Be careful, she’s smarter than the others.”

 Looking first at Casey, his eyes eventually drifted over to Adelais. The green of her eyes caught slightly in the light spilling into the room, constricting her pupils to show the ring of hazel around their center. Her lips were slightly thinned, one of the small shows of emotion she allowed. “We heard something,” Casey continued while he was paused in the doorway. “We didn’t understand it before, but now we do.”

 Carefully sliding off the cot, she situated herself in the center of the room. Still far from the door, but now in Hedwig’s direct path. The child noticed when Adelais’s eyebrows twitched down—such a small motion it was almost unseen—and remembered Dennis’s face doing the same thing when there was something he didn’t like.

 “Do you know what we heard?” Casey asked quietly, baiting him forward.

 Adelais knew what she was doing. Hedwig was a child, more easily manipulated when compared to Dennis or Patricia. Dennis scared them too much, and they had only had one encounter with Patricia. Therefore, the nine-year-old made the easier target. It was a sound strategy to try and escape, but the thought of manipulating a child made her stomach clench with discomfort.

 He wasn’t just someone pretending to be a child, this was a personality that knew nothing else. It was the same as if she had actually manipulated a little boy that had the body to match the personality. It was clear that he feared the anger of both of the adult personalities, and Casey was setting him up to take the brunt of that anger.

 The only reprieve was that they shared a body, there was no way to physically punish him.

 But she knew all about emotional and mental torture.

 Unfortunately, Hedwig was too young to see those signs and his attention was caught. “What’d you hear?”

 “Come here,” Casey prompted. “I’ll whisper it to you.”

 Giggling to himself, Hedwig cast one last glance at Adelais before he released the doorhandle. “Okay.” Keeping himself crouched down, he waddled forward on his feet while his hands cradled his knees. Adelais wanted to call him back, to stop what Casey was planning, but perhaps this could be to her advantage as well.

 Hedwig stopped just shy of Casey, ducking his head down so she could whisper into his ear.

 She couldn’t be sure if it was done on purpose, but Casey’s whisper was too low for Adelais to hear. She was probably mimicking what Adelais had done just a minute before, whispered to Hedwig about Casey. Green eyes keenly watched Casey’s face—trying to read her lips unsuccessfully—and Hedwig’s back. Whatever she whispered was short and prompted Hedwig to lean back.

 “You’re a big fibber,” he accused, the playfulness gone from his tone.

 “I never lie, Hedwig.”

 “She lies.”

 His panic was back, bringing with it the slight stutter in his words. “But…but Mr. Dennis said that he followed those two girls for four days, and he said that he knew that they were the ones that-that-that he would want.”

 Adelais knew exactly what Casey had told him. It was risky. Casey continued to whisper to him, her voice low and staying between her and Hedwig. But he wasn’t as subtle; listening to Hedwig’s reactions allowed Adelais to piece together what was whispered to him. What lies were spread.

 How to counter them.

 With the same low, waddling steps, Hedwig backed up a few paces. Putting distance between him and Casey. “N-no…Miss….Miss. Patricia said she’s not mad anymore!” His voice rose with the swell of emotion Casey’s words caused. “She-she sings to me!” Looking to Adelais caused an abrupt swell of anger at Casey to almost choke her. His face was broken and distraught, a tear tracking down his cheek. She wanted to console him.

 How often had she cried alone because she had displeased her mother? As a child, she could never understand why they hated her so much.

 “I was quiet!” He was yelling now, emotions getting the best of him. “I-I didn’t wake them, you said-you said I did nothing wrong!”

 Her body moved before she made the decision, lifting her hands toward him. He waddled forward, still babbling about being quiet, and being good, until Adelais’s chilled fingers gently stroked across his cheeks to collect the tears that fell. She shushed him softly, meant more as a calming sound than to warn him he was being loud. Sniffling strongly, he leaned into her hands as she continued to stroke her thumbs across his cheeks.

 “You’re okay, Hedwig. Don’t cry. She’s lying.”

 Casey wasn’t about to give up, assuming that the emotional response from him meant that he believed her lie. “I think Miss. Patricia’s still a little mad at you. But if we hurry, we can all get out.”

 He pulled from her hands so suddenly they remained in front of her, holding only air. “You lie,” he accused. “She said you lie, you lie!” Adelais only hoped the girls assumed he was talking about Patricia. If they knew she had put the idea in his head, the tension between them would come to a breaking point. “Mr. Dennis made this room safe—it took forever without those nosey-bodies who work here finding out. You can’t get out of here!”

 The upset had turned to panic again.

 “I have to blow my nose,” he announced before rushing from the small room with the door slamming behind him. Adelais retracted her hands as Casey called out for him, desperately trying to stop him so they could escape. But the lock clicked into place, sealing them inside. She beat Casey to the door, having been right next to it, and watched as Hedwig rushed to the other door and used the set of keys he had been carrying to unlock that one as well.

 “Who’s coming?” Marcia was the first to ask, she and Claire getting up from their cot as Casey came up behind Adelais to watch him disappear out the other door.

 “No one’s coming,” Claire tried to assure.

 “Oh, shut up,” Adelais snapped, glancing over her shoulder as Casey started to pace to the wall near the bathroom. “Clearly someone is going to come here, why else would he follow you two for four days? This wasn’t spur of the moment.”

 Claire looked ready to argue again, though there was a distinct hesitation after Adelais’s last enraged reaction. “He said something,” Casey interrupted first, placing her hand on the bare drywall. “He said something about making the room safe.”

 Finally understanding Casey’s train of thought, Claire looked around the room. The wall of the bathroom and the ceiling were both covered in bare slabs of drywall, the screws holding them in place still visible. “This is all new drywall.”

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[365days365movies]

May 9, 2021: A.I. Artificial Intelligence (2001) (Recap: Part One)

Welcome to the future.

At this point, we’ve mostly looked at the past, present, or the near-future (as in, the next ten years, if that). Additionally, we’ve looked either at nonexistent technology in a contemporary setting, or an extension of existing technology taken to a logical next step. But no more. No more realism, no more real-world rules, and nothing that we’re even close to in this reality.

Well...mostly.

That’s genuinely impressive, not gonna lie. Anyway, yeah, from here forwards (for a bit), we’ll be looking at the future and futuristic technology. Now, there are a couple of ways in which these films tend to go. The first big way that we tend to represent the future in film is the same way we always have: flying cars, futuristic technology, smart houses, and robots.

Now, there are countless examples of this future, and it always changes a bit depending on the present. Which, yeah, makes sense. After all, what I’m doing right now, at this moment, would’ve been seen by many people as a massive technological achievement, even around the time that I was born. Which, yes, I’m old, deal with it (because I can’t). Anyway, the way that this begins is with the first major filmed view of a seemingly idyllic future: Fritz Lang’s 1927 film Metropolis.

The overly mechanized (and politically dystopic) society seen in this film, as well as the visuals and technology, would inform our ideas of the future throughout the next century. Multiple themes and common objects reoccur throughout futuristic fiction. You know the stuff I’m talking about. Flying cars, automatic food machines, robotic assistants, video watches, holograms, jetpacks, so on and so forth.

But here’s the thing about the future. It’s always ahead of us, and eventually...well, we’ve gotten to most of those things to some degree. Either they already exist...

...or is currently being developed.

Well, one of them we’re still working on. And the development of more advanced AI is something we have yet to perfect, or even fully develop. However, the development of A.I. (and the consequences of that technology) are ALL OVER science fiction. Sometimes, they’re merely used for flavor to help establish the futuristic setting.

Sometimes, they’re characters with their own agency and conflicts, which may or may not define the plot. In these cases, they’re often simply there to back up the main human characters, and help with their development, and sometimes their own. You know, manic pixie dream robots.

And then, possibly most often, they’re the abject villains of the piece. they can be mysterious alien technology, like in The Day the Earth Stood Still, or a man-made danger that turns on the race that created and/or abused it.

But then, on occasion, an A.I. is given the chance to develop as a character, without being used to define the development of a human character. Sometimes, the question of what life truly means is raised through these characters, and we become attached to them outside of any other character. This isn’t nearly as common as the others, but it’s definitely not unheard of.

And for the record...things don’t often go well for those AIs. But still, some of those characters have quite a lasting impact. So, there’s quite a lot of potential for this type of character, from a dramatic standpoint. And that potential leads us to the guy who made this.

I WILL MAKE A JURASSIC PARK REFERENCE AS OFTEN AS POSSIBLE

Steven Spielberg gives us today’s entry, and this director of a classic science fiction story about science gone awry teamed up with the director of a science fiction film where an artificial intelligence went awry. You know, this thing.

I didn’t forget about HAL. And I won’t forget about him later, either.

Director Stanley Kubrick is pretty well-know for his mind-bending films, especially The Shining and 2001: A Space Odyssey. But he also worked with Spielberg on this film before his death in 1999, as this was one of his dream projects for many years, and the two directors were well-known friends.

And so, eventually, Spielberg was given the reins from Kubrick, and results were...mixed. It’s funny, because I’ve never actually seen this movie, but I remember it through its surprisingly widespread ad campaign. I used to go to NYC as a kid a lot, and there was a massive building-side plastered with the iconic logo of this movie. So, I’ve been hovering around this movie for a long time. Enough navel-gazing!

SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap (Part One)

It is, unsurprisingly, the future. A marrator informs us that climate change has caused the ice caps to melt, and global flooding drowns several countries. You could say that it’s a...Waterworld.

I genuinely considered watching that movie at some point, and then I decided I liked myself to much to watch 2 hours of Kevin Costner’s emotionless acting. Granted, it’s not much better now, listening to the emotionless acting of...

Professor Allen Hobby (William Hurt) is a straight-up sociopath. OK, technically, he’s a robotics engineer, but dude’s making a speech, right? He talks about how far robots have come, dissing my boi Deep Blue in the process, and notes that pain-memory response can also be demonstrated by robots. He proves this by stabbing a woman in his audience, like RIGHT through the hand. Jesus, man! Why the hell would you do that?

Oh. Holy shit, I got fooled. Advanced technology indeed. But OK, so Sheila’s a robot, and a very advanced one...to us. But Hobby wants more, and proposes to his workers to make a robot that can really TRULY love. And through love may come a true subconscious, which means making a robot that can dream. And what better robot to make than a robot child? After all, all child conception requires a license in this futuristic world, so many childless couples are yearning for a child.

Which is why, twenty months later, the first robot child is offered to Henry and Monica Swinton (Sam Robards and Frances O’Connor), a couple...with a child. Um. Guys. You JUST SAID that there are legit childless couples who need a child, and those people would be best suited to love that robot child back (a VERY GOOD question raised by one of Hobby’s subordinates). So why give it to a couple whose son is still alive? Yeah, he’s got a rare disease that they don’t have a cure for yet, and is currently in cryostasis, BUT THEY HAVE A KID! Surely, that’s going to be a potential emotional conflict! And what if the kid wakes up or some shit? This is a TERRIBLE goddamn idea. Think this shit through, guys.

And yet...

This is David (Haley Joel Osment), Cybertronics’ first child robot, brought home by Henry to essentially replace their son. Which is AMAZINGLY FUCKING TONE-DEAF AND INSANE, GODDAMN. That’s extraordinarily messed up. And, for the record, I totally get what Spielberg’s going for, but Jesus Christ, man. This was a terrible way to go about this. And it gets fucking WORSE.

See, Henry (who actually works for Cybertronics) tells Monica that, once they sign the papers and complete the updates, David will imprint on them and see him as their true parents, loving them unconditionally. Which...yeah, fuck, that’s an entire DUMP TRUCK of ethics issues right there. And, while we’re at it, David is...creepy as shit. I mean it, dude, Haley Joel Osment is a VERY good child actor, but he’s laying on the creepy robot child thing THICK. And yeah, this is BEFORE he imprints on them. Jesus fuck, man, there’s a scene where the still uncomfortable Monica is outside of a glass door, and he looks back at her THROUGH THE DOOR like a goddamn SERIAL KILLER.

And I gotta tell ya, dude does not lay off that creepy-ass dial one iota. And for that matter, the music by John Williams ISN’T FUCKING HELPING. LISTEN to this shit, and imagine a robot child that you don’t know wandering around your house. It’s amazingly fucking creepy.

AND IT JUST. KEEPS. GETTING. WORSE. There’s a scene where they’re all at dinner, right, and David’s just staring at them as they eat, mimicking their actions. After all, he’s a robot, he can’t actually eat or drink anything because of his internal working. And then, out of FUCKING NOWHERE, he starts laughing like the FUCKING JOKER, and it scares the EVER-LOVING SHIT OUT OF ME. And somehow, they laugh alongside him, in the never-ending Stockholm syndrome that is this movie! And as soon as its over, he just STOPS laughing, spontaneously. Fuck me, man, I’m tempted to stop watching here and now, and I’m only TWENTY MINUTES IN! I need a fucking break.

And after that...OF COURSE she decides to activate his imprinting protocols to make him, let me remind you, LOVE HIM FOREVER! She reads out a series of words, and after “FREIGHT CAR”, he knows his mission is to kill the Prime Minister of Sokovia. But first, he’ll settle down and love Monica unconditionally (again, FOREVER), calling her Mommy and making me shit my pants in fear. IT WASN’T ME, IT WAS FUCKING DAVID

Oh, and by the way, isn’t it kinda shitty to do that without Henry being involved AT ALL? Like, cool, he has unconditional maternal love, but Henry wasn’t a part of that conditioning at all! And he still refers to him as “Henry” instead of Dad! However, Henry definitely doesn’t care about that, because he still sees David as only a robot. Hey, guys, maybe using these two as your first experiment with a robot child WAS A TERRIBLE FUCKING IDEA, YOU IDIOTS! No wonder William Hurt was cast as Thunderbolt Ross in the MCU. Already shown he can play a character with shitty ideas before.

Anyway, after this terrible series of events, David prevents the parents from leaving one night due to his childlike antics. When Monica goes to comfort him, he asks how long she’ll live, and tells her that he hope she never dies, a COMPLETELY NORMAL THING TO SAY. Look, I get that he’s a robot, but only a goddamn emotionless sociopath would program emotional responses like this into a robot. Which, given what we’ve seen of Hobby, makes sense.

In response, she gives him Teddy (Jack Angel), a technologically advanced teddy bear with sentience, a personality, and the voice of Astrotrain from The Transformers TV series. Because, yes, I am THAT MUCH of a goddamn nerd.

Soon after, the house gets a phone call, which David receives...literally. He takes the phone and allows it to speak through him. It turns out that, shock beyond shocks, THEIR SON IS CURED! Yeah, fuck. Maybe giving David to a family with a STILL LIVING SON is a fucking ABSOLUTELY TERRIBLE IDEA, for about a thousand reasons.

And, fucking understandably, Martin Swinton (Jake Thomas) is a little upset to find out that he’s essentially been replaced by a robot kid. Although, to be fair, he’s also kind of a dick to David, holding his humanity over him and treating him as a toy that he attempts to manipulate and bully. My Lord, this is a massively stupid idea. And Martin immediately shows his dickishness by asking his mother to read Carlo Collodi’s The Adventures of Pinocchio to them. Which is meant to be a punishment for Pinocchio. However, of course, David loves it.

Still, however, there’s trouble in paradise for David, as he tries to compete with Martin for being a real boy, and eats spinach at dinner one evening. Despite Teddy’s mildly ominous warning to him (”YOU WILL BREAK”), he keeps eating until he basically has a stroke and breaks, forcing him to be repaired by some of Cybertronics’ technicians. Monica has a bit of a break down as a result, which Martin notices. This causes Martin to go pure supervillain, manipulating David to do creepy things in order to insert doubt into Monica about David. Jesus, Martin’s a creepy kid, too. No wonder Monica grew to be cool with David, her actual son is a FUCKING SOCIOPATHIC MONSTER! Are there ANY truly normal people in this world? IS THIS WHAT THE FUTURE IS?

Martin convinces David to cut a lock of Monica’s hair while she’s sleeping. And lemme tell ya, a little boy holding scissors over someone while they sleep is not exactly comforting. Henry agrees, and after stopping him, believes that they need to return him. Monica disagrees, knowing that they’ll destroy him if brought back. But David, ever the semi-sociopath himself, ignores any signs of humanity in David and dismisses Monica's feelings for him entirely. He also says this thing about “IF HE CAN BE PROGRAMMED TO LOVE, CAN NOT HE BE PROGRAMM-ED TO HATE?”, which...no. No, he cannot. He didn’t learn to love, he was programmed to. And, again, that’s ethically FUCKED, but taking that into account...no. HE WASN’T PROGRAMMED TO HATE, HENRY. Goddamn, buddy, use your head here.

It’s Martin’s birthday, and his friends at the pool party expose David to the fun world of anti-robot (or Mecha) racism, and test to see if he has Damage Avoidance Systems by threatening him with a knife. And he does. Buuut, when those systems kick in, he goes to the nearest point of safety to keep himself safe. That point is, unfortunately, Martin, whom he gets behind...and accidentally drags into the pool.

Thing is, because of Martin’s recent illness, he can’t exactly swim, meaning that David almost drowns him. When Henry and other partygoers go to save him, they abandon David in the pool completely. And now, David’s fucked. Because although this situation isn’t even a little bit his fault, he also just nearly killed Martin. And so, after seeing notes that he’s been writing to her, Monica offers to take for a “ride in the country”. Which definitely means something good. In reality, she’s planning on taking him back to Cybertronics. But once in the car, there’s a change in plans. And hear me out...it’s arguably far more horrifying.

She decides to abandon him in the woods completely, despite how hard it is for her to leave him. She’s sparing him from death, sure, but also throwing him into a world he doesn’t understand, and for reasons that he doesn’t understand. It’s genuinely terrible. And then...yeah, she leaves him forever, to an uncertain future.

End Act One.

I think this is a good place to stop. It’s early, and I need more coffee to handle this shit. See you in Part Two. Of Three. Yup. It’s a long one.

[yoongi-sugaglider]

Daegu Quarantine

Jungkook x reader

Gang/ zombie apocalypse au

Warnings:

Gore, violence, blood, gun shot wounds, zombies, mention of drugs and drug dealing, weapons discharge in self defense, main character death, zombies, course language, zombies, drinking, did I mention zombies?

Summary:

They were the top of their game, known throughout the city as the smartest and most dangerous crew to ever hit the Daegu streets. But what’s going to happen when this group of young men encounter something right out of a horror film?

Word count: 2172

A/n: Omgg I am soooo sorry!! I forgot to add a read more T.T I fixed it I promise!!!

Part 13===Part 14===Part 15

Jungkook was blind fury and rage, seeking those that'd dare harm what was his. He stalked through the halls, all caution thrown to the wayside as he mowed down body after body heading his way. It wasn’t the infected he was looking for though. 

“SEO EUN KWANG!!!” Jungkook’s voice rang through the hotel lobby, echoing in the empty expanse as he stopped in the center of the empty space to stare around.

“You know Boss…” A condescending voice drew his attention to the check in desk, “I never really wanted things to go down like this…”

Jungkook drew his gun to center mass, face a mask of emotionless disinterest at the man’s words. “Minhyuk and Sungjae are dead.” He growled the words out, vision tinted red at the corners as he watched Eun Kwang sigh and shake his head.

“I told them to take the night off. They weren’t even supposed to be at the warehouse. But you know how it is. Balancing out a mutiny with an apocalypse is just never going to go in anyone’s favor.”

“A fucking mutiny? What the hell is this, Pirates of the fucking Caribbean? You betrayed me Eun Kwang. After everything you fucking sell out piece of low end garbage. Not only that, you got HER shot.”

The older man shook his head once more with a laugh, leaning forward to place his elbows on the checkout desk’s high wall and tap at his temple with his gun. “Little dongsaeng, it was always in the cards for this to happen. You were just too blind to see that one little boy from Busan could never handle running the entirety of Daegu. You dreamed big, yeah. But kid, this city was just too big for you.”

“What the fuck are you even talking about?” Jungkook stalked forward, arms never wavering as he sighted the gun right for the center of Eun Kwang’s forehead. “I never wanted to run this whole town. You fuckers put that on me. I just wanted to make enough to get by. Make sure my girl had everything she needed. None of that included taking over a damn thing!”

“Easy there little cowboy. Another step closer and my boys are gonna have to protect me and the last thing I wanna do is end up killing you.” Eun Kwang smirked as Jungkook halted in place, eyes darting around to spot three men stepping from the shadows, each with their guns aimed at him and almost manic grins gracing their faces.

***

Pain.

Everything was pain and screaming.

“You’ve got to get her to wake up!”

I couldn’t help but to groan, hands reaching out to grab the nearest person as I fought against the pressure held against my outer thigh.

“It hurts...make it stop it hurts!” I whimpered, blurry gaze taking in the worried faces of Seokjin and Yoongi who were working to hold me down. Rose’s face appeared above me, panicked as she shushed me and pressed down on my forehead to keep me still.

We were in a room of some sort, no longer in the hotel kitchen so I couldn’t be sure how long I’d been out cold. Cleaning supplies surrounded us but the pain in my chest and leg kept me from being able to take in any more information as Yoongi had renewed the pressure on the molten mass of ouch that was my thigh.

“Can’t...breath…” I whimpered out.

“Release the straps on her vest. The ceramic plates will have shattered, if she’s got any broken ribs it’s gonna get a lot worse for her.” The voice in my ear crackled to life, startling me as I struggled for a moment to register Jimin’s calm tones whispering in my ear.

Seokjin released my uninjured leg, moving to lift my upper body. The pressure on my chest increased, blinding me for a moment as my lungs decided they didn’t want to work. I stared up at the ceiling, mouth open in a silent scream and tears chasing each other down my cheeks as Jin unzipped my jacket and fumbled to release the straps that’d been holding my tactical vest together.

As the straps released air whooshed into my lungs and I let out a sob of relief, though it didn’t last long as a strange shifting in my chest caused more pain to shoot through me.

“F...fuck…” I coughed, turning my head in Rose’s lap and shutting my eyes as a wave of dizziness rolled over me.

“Alright, once she’s breathing better shift those plates around and strap her back in.” Jimin’s voice came again and I turned my head towards Jin, eyes wide as I shook my head desperately to stop him. But it didn’t matter, and deep down I knew it as Jin pulled the straps tight and snapped them back into place. The pressure was a bit better, but damn did it hurt.

“Yoongi, have you got your silencer barrel on you?”

Yoongi grunted in reply, turning with one hand still holding pressure on my leg as he unscrewed the barrel from his sniper rifle. 

“I’d tell you to fire off a round or two but...not now…”

“I know what you’re gonna say…” Yoongi shifted upwards on his knees, placing the silencer on my chest for a moment and digging into his pocket. His hand reappeared and I watched on in a confused haze of pain and worry.

He nodded to Jin who groaned to himself as he picked up the silencer and held it delicately out to Yoongi. The silent assassin reached out, flicking a lighter and producing a flame that licked at the cold steel of the barrel.

My eyes widened in panic and I began to struggle, knowing deep down exactly what they were about to do.

“Keep her still.” Yoongi growled and Rose rushed to comply.

She grabbed my flailing arms, pinning them down to my sides as she shifted forward to keep a better hold on me.

Me struggling didn’t matter.

The pain no longer mattered.

The...the smell of my own flesh searing didn’t matter.

Only the bliss of one final scream chased closely by unconsciousness.

***

“Oh god…” Rose retched, losing her grip on the limp woman as Yoongi continued his grim work.

It really took no more than a moment to cauterize the bullet wound. It stretched less than 3 inches along the expanse of her outer thigh, but the blood loss alone would have caused quite an issue later on, not to mention the risk of infection. Yoongi treated the wound as best he could, wrapping it in the remains of the shirt Jungkook had tossed them before they’d locked themselves inside the supply closet of the hotel. 

Seokjin sniffed, covering his nose with the back of his wrist as he stared forlorn down at the cold sweat that glistened from the unconscious form of one of his favorite people. He shook his head, grinding his teeth before tapping the inner earpiece to signal to Jimin they’d finished the work.

The haggard doctor sighed through the communication device. “She should be safe to move. Just try not to jostle her ribs too much. I take it what Yoongi did made her pass out?” 

Rose whimpered, fingernails digging painful crescents into the palms of her hands as she struggled to regain control of the tears flowing down her cheeks. True, she’d been desperate for rescue the moment the news started rambling about people eating each other but...this? This wasn’t what she’d hoped for. She’d never wanted any of them getting hurt.

“I’ll hand things over to Tae, I’ve got to go get the infirmary prepped for when you guys get here. Try not to get hurt in the meantime…”

Yoongi grunted, eyes focused in on the hasty bandages as if waiting for them to bleed through. Taehyung’s voice returned, strained as if he’d been crying though none of them commented on his tone of voice.

“Alright, I’ve got visuals on Boss and Hoseok. The alley looks clear from this angle, along with the side streets that’ll lead you guys back in this direction.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “Boss, I know you want to go after them...but we’ve got to get her back home. Yoongi hyung and Jin hyung could manage it solo but not without risking getting hurt or worse..infected…”

There was a brief moment of silence before Hoseok’s voice crackled over the line. “We’re headed back. Get ready to move out.” 

Yoongi nodded to the two figures either side of him, tucking the silencer barrel into a side pocket on his black cargo pants before handing the rifle itself over to Seokjin.

The trio were silent aside from the occasional sniffle from Rose but eventually they managed to pack as much as they could away, checking to ensure their weapons were all reloaded in the process. 

Yoongi worked gingerly, lifting y/n’s limp form into his arms bridal style and turning to nod to Jin. A single tap to the earpiece and the others were alerted that they were ready to move out and head home.

***

“Hobi hush. I’ve already told you none of the wounds are life threatening. If you wake the Boss I swear to all the high heavens that I’m blaming it on you and running.”

The whispering voices woke me, a welcome balm to the chaos that had been my nightmares.

Before opening my eyes and alerting them to my consciousness I took a moment to take stock of what I was feeling. The throbbing in my leg had gone away, probably due to whatever medication Jimin had managed to get in me. The weight alone let me know that it’d been treated and wrapped, though the weight in my chest hadn’t eased much.

I groaned, shifting a bit in an attempt to get a bigger breath of air. This got the attention of the two whispering voices which quickly stopped talking followed by the distinctive sound of shuffling bodies. After a moment a small hand slipped around mine, lifting it slightly as Jimin’s voice followed.

“Hey Boss Lady, you waking up?”

I peeled my eyelids open, one at a time before blinking to clear the blur and focusing on the two concerned faces hovering over me.

“Mmm...think I’m awake, though somehow I feel like I should be far more grateful for that stockpile of pain meds you like to keep around.”

Jimin gave me a shaky grin and a sniffle from beside him caught my attention. Lifting my head slightly I caught the sight of a forlorn Hoseok, eyes puffy and the normally sunshine glow of his grin nowhere to be seen. I let go of Jimin’s hand, fingers wiggling to catch Hobi’s attention.

“Hey, I’m here. I’m okay I promise.”

The poor boy whimpered, lower lip sticking out as he grabbed my hand in both of his. Closing his eyes he leaned forward, forehead pressed to my fingers as he sniffled his way out of the tears.

“Don’t...don’t do that to me again Boss Lady. I don’t like it when you get hurt….” 

I shook my head, giving a short laugh that only served to leave my head swimming as whatever was going wrong with my ribs shifted. “Ho...boy…” Releasing Hobi’s hand I arched my back as best I could, inhaling deeply and wincing as something strange popped in my chest.

“Alright now.” Jimin muttered, pushing me back down onto the bed with a frown. “I know it’s hard to breathe, but try not to breathe too deeply. You want those ribs to heal up properly you’re gonna wanna give them a chance to settle back where they belong.” 

I nodded, though relaxing back to where I’d been laying was harder than I wanted. I glanced to my other side, realising that the reason I hadn’t been able to move that hand was because a pair of incredibly toned arms was wrapped around it and a shaggy head of hair was currently pinning it to the bed.

I turned to the other two boys, arching an eyebrow at them in questioning.

“He hasn’t left your side since you all got back. Course...he hasn’t said much either.” Jimin sighed, rubbing his temples to release some of his pent up stress and then carding a hand through his hair. 

“Mmm… how long was I out?”

“Half a day. The Boss only just passed out about an hour ago though…”

I nodded, gaze returning sadly to the softly snoring form beside me. My heart ached for him, even knowing I was the one injured not him. I waved my hand, giving the two boys a soft smile to let them know I’d be alright on my own.

They left, Hobi sniffling the whole way as Jimin softly closed the door behind him. It was better to let Jungkook sleep. Things would run just fine without him for a while.