#i may expand that into a longer fic at one point just to play around with bobby's potential coma world (ie. marcy and the kids being alive) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

yesimwriting · 4 years ago

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Corridor Moments

A/n this is a request from @mariannagris for a fic with the Darkling x Sun Summoner! reader where they're having a cute moment and then Zoya walks in and sees that they're together and gets jealous.

I'm working on a longer fic that should be up this weekend!! I'm working through a bunch of requests/updates rn I promise lol

He's no longer guiding me, but he hasn't moved his hands away--one on my waist, one on my shoulder.

"Aleksander," I try to keep my tone casual, only hinting at a warning.

There's no way he misses it, but he still allows the hand on my shoulder to ghost across my collar before setting his palm on my cheek. "Yes, my sun?"

Before I can roll my eyes, he brushes his thumb across my cheek softly. His touch has started to become more casual, but I'm not sure the comfort it brings me will ever lose its novelty. I tilt my head slightly, leaning into his touch.

"We're not alone." The reminder is more for me than him. All of his actions are intentional, he knows the risks of his sudden bout of affection. "We may be in an empty hallway now, but we're not alone."

Aleksander leans forward slightly, forcing me to press my back into the wall to avoid melting into him. I don't miss his half-smile, a confident smirk breaking across his features. He knows what he's doing. "And what would we need to be alone for?"

The slightest hint of annoyance bubbles in my chest. For someone so determined, he enjoys playing coy more than he should. My lips part, prepared to call him out for his teasing, but Aleksander senses my hesitance like always. He leans forward again, this time pulling my chin up slightly so that our lips could brush together if I just inclined my head slightly.

The closer we get, the more I feel our distance. His eyes flicker downwards, focusing on the slight part of my lips. Aleksander angles his head downwards, allowing our lips to meet fully. Now that the barrier's been broken, I have no choice but to reciprocate with full force, my hands leaving his chest and finding their way into his hair. Aleksander's hands grab the collar of my kefta. He pulls me towards him sharply, as desperate as I am to eliminate space.

And then he pulls me away. I'm left pouting on instinct, lips slightly swollen and breathing a little uneven. "Easy," he chides, "We can't afford to get distracted."

I wrinkle my nose at him. He started this, pulling me out of the meeting under the ruse of important, private conversation. "And who's the one doing the distracting?"

Aleksander smiles fully. A real grin, the kind of grin that rivals any amount of sun I could ever produce. "You," he breathes, leaning in again and brushing his lips against my cheek, "Considering you won't leave my thoughts."

I let myself grin back, his unexpected softness an arrow that pierces through whatever's left of my composure. "You're awfully sentimental today."

He straightens slightly, expression still light. "Is that a bad thing?"

Squeezing the hand that he's placed on my waist, I beam at him. "Not bad at all--just different."

He's still looking at me with a fierceness that sometimes frightens me due to its wholeness, but something ancient and dark is settled behind his eyes. Something haunting that he won't let me help him with. I haven’t known him that long, but I’ve figured out that his affection is often a secret plea, a silent attempt to rid himself of darkness. What's the point of being able to summon the sun if you cannot banish the darkness that haunts those you care about? I raise his hand to my mouth, kissing each of his knuckles deliberately. He exhales at the contact, some sort of tension coiling in him at the chaste contact.

I like us better when we’re alone. When he lets things like this slip from him as he tries to let my light in him. I could stay in this corridor forever with him. I could hold him by his hand to make sure he can’t slip away from me.

Reality does not allow me to coddle my dreams. If I lose focus, he’ll be able to convince me to do anything--to forget my own name even. I drop my gaze to the hand I’m still holding, running my thumb along his knuckles. “We can’t--we can’t stay.” Not the truest sentiment--he can do whatever he wants. “I can’t stay.” The correction leaves me bitter. “Not for long.” The addition only softens the harsh edge of reality slightly. “People are already starting to think you’re extending favoritism towards me.”

Aleksander lifts the hand I’m holding, taking my hand with him. He turns my hand over before placing a kiss on my palm. The contact is warm and fleeting and I’m powerless against the sentiment it stirs. “And this isn’t favoritism?”

I roll my eyes, his warm breath is still against my skin. “That depends--am I your favorite?”

His hold on my hand tightens slightly. “You already know the answer.” I let the corner of my mouth twitch upwards. Aleksander has already offered me more than I expected today, but it’d still be nice to hear him say it. “You, my darling, my sun, will always be my favorite.”

I beam a little easier, warmth expanding in my chest. Still, the feeling isn’t enough to burn through all of my reluctance. His affection stems from the fact that he believes me to be his salvation. That’s the only thing that makes sense to me. How else could i have won his affections?

“It’s easy to favor a Sun Summoner,” the response is soft, a bit of forced teasing edging my words.

His eyebrows draw together as his hold on my hand tightens, turning from a gentle squeeze to a desperate grab. “Sun Summoner or not, no one else has ever held my favor the way you do.” Aleksander leans towards me again, the comforting heat of his breath on my cheek. “And no one ever will.”

I’m reduced to nothing more than happy neediness, letting him cup my face and pulling me towards him. His lips meet mine with a desperate understanding that’s both bruising and coddling. Aleksander’s teeth graze my bottom lip, testing waters that are unfamiliar between us. I reciprocate, pushing even closer to him. He pushes us backwards, pressing me against the wall as he moves his attention away from my lips and down my jaw, leaving a trail of hot skin wherever his lips brush.

“Aleksander,” I breathe, placing a hand on his chest, “Meeting--we need to--”

He pulls away just enough to let me feel his grin, “That can wait.”

“They’ll think things,” Despite my warning, Aleksander doesn’t pull away, his fingertips brushing against my collar. “They’re waiting,” he sighs against my hair, still careless, “Alina--she’s waiting...” He continues to touch me like I’m an illusion of the light. “And--” He smiles at my waning resolve, attempting to move forward to silence the last of my protests with a kiss.

I turn my head, suppressing a reluctant laugh at his carelessness. Aleksander is not discouraged, pressing a kiss against my cheek. Shifting my gaze while placing my hand on his chest to make it easier to push him off fo me, I freeze. He must feel my new stiffness, because Aleksander pauses against me.

Zoya. She’s standing at the entrance of the corridor, watching us--watching me--with such a sharp look of ill-defined displeasure I’m surprised I’m not physically withered by it. Awkwardness and something akin to guilt leave me blind as I try to create space between me and the unbudging General. Does he not see her?

“Yes?” His voice leaves goosebumps against my skin--not an ounce of shame, but not a drop of that easy-going softness either. He’s General Kirigan again--sharp and incapable of shame or regret. He’s in complete control, all the power in the world is at the fingertips that are still on my skin.

Zoya’s expression does not waver, eyes still locked on me. “Those in the meeting were beginning to worry, but I see that you’re occupied.” I was wrong. She’s not staring at me, she’s staring through me--like I’m nothing more than a thin curtain on a cloudless day during high noon. “I’ll inform the others.”

“You’ll inform them of nothing I don’t approve of.” He’s fierce, the threat of venom apparent in each syllable. “And it’d do you well to meet the Sun Summoner’s gaze with a little more respect.”

I’m quick to grab his forearm, desperate to articulate how much I’d rather him not pick this fight--not when most can barely stand me, not when the more I think of Zoya’s look I realize any bitterness towards me is something else. Not hatred, no--resentment. The kind of resentment that’s only ever a byproduct of something else. If I was bolder, I’d assume it a look of jealousy--maybe not over the man, but the attention and praise received for being nothing more than new and shiny. Her eyebrows knit together as Aleksander’s hold on me adjusts slightly. Okay, maybe the fact that I’m with Aleksander has something to do with it--but it has to be more than that. Her dislike of me, her constant myriad of comments and looks all points to a jealousy much more bitter than that of someone love sick.

If something in her has been broken over time here, time around Kirigan and his pension for manipulating that I am not blind to and my presence and joy is a reminder of that, than I can bear her hatred. “She was looking at me normally.” Before he can challenge me, I move his hands off of me gently and slip away from between him and the wall.

I guess that’s what it takes for him to understand that I mean it, Aleksander straightens and takes a step forward. His eyes linger on me as he walks forward. I stay a few steps behind him, a pathetic attempt to cling to any kind of properness I can manage.

“If I were you, I’d at least comb your hair with your fingers before entering that room again unless you’d like to announce yourself as a form of entertainment.”

Being a decent person is nauseating sometimes. “And take the fun out of it for you?”

I don’t wait for her reply, moving down the hall to catch up with Aleksander. Still, when I’m no longer next to Zoya I brush my fingers through my hair in hopes of correcting any damage she’s created. Maybe I should be more worried. Maybe I should care about the opinions of others more. But every reason to stay away from Aleksander entirely feels so small. I’m not naive enough to fall blindly, but the thing about being a Sun Summoner is that you can bring light with you, no matter how dark the path you chose is.

I watch Aleksander as he places a hand on the door to the room. He offers me one last, genuine smile. His path isn’t as dark as he wants it to seem, and even if it is, I don’t care.

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mdemontespan1667 · 4 years ago

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Over the last couple of weeks I’ve seen a marked increase in hate directed at my fellow writers of DARK fics by cowardly Anons. While each and every writer has undoubtedly held their own against the stupidity aimed at them, I have reached the point where I can no longer just Like and Reblog. So settle in and buckle up. This may be a long and bumpy ride.

1) First and foremost, YOU, AND ONLY YOU, ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR THE MEDIA YOU CHOOSE TO CONSUME. It is not your place to decide A) What someone else writes and B) What someone else reads. I follow hundreds of Blogs on the site. The vast majority contain consensual sex, fluff, angsty etc. In other words not DARK content. Non-DARK content is incredibly easy to find. Even though DARK fics are becoming more popular they are still out numbered at least 100 to 1. You either have to be specifically looking for the DARK tag or following someone who consistently posts DARK fics to find them. So if DARK fics offend you unfollow the writer or filter out the DARK tag. If a DARK fic does somehow make its way onto your feed, be a damn adult and scroll past it. No one is standing behind you holding your eyes open making you read.

2) DARK fics are just another extension of “rape fantasy” which is a well documented (both scholarly and unscholarly) phenomenon. Rape fantasy “fics” have been found in print since at least the 1600’s. They were extremely popular during the Victorian period. In fact I’d be willing to bet that your mother, grandmother or great grandmother (depending on your age) read romance novels that, at the very least, contained dubious consent sexual situations. Do a quick search of the best selling romance books of the 70’s and 80’s. Most of them contained non-consent sexual situations. Today’s DARK fic is nothing new.

3) Rape fantasies/DARK fics have ABSOLUTLEY NOTHING TO DO WITH ACTUAL RAPE. It does not in any way, shape or form mean a person wants to be violently sexually assaulted. Nor does it mean they want any other person to be violently sexually assaulted. It’s a fantasy. Make believe.

4) DARK fics aren’t written because the writer is “sick,” “disgusting,” “perverted,” etc etc etc. That’s it. That’s all.

5) DARK fics/Rape fantasies have always been a way for women to take control of their bodies. Historically (and even currently) women have had their sexuality suppressed. “Good” girls weren’t supposed to actually enjoy sex. Sex with their husband has been referred to as the “woman’s curse,” “wifely duty,” etc etc. Women who enjoy sex, actively pursue sex, have more than one sexual partner, or experiment with sex are referred to as sluts, whores, wanton, nymphomaniacs, unnatural, witches, the list goes on and on. Out of sexual repression and frustration the “rape fantasy” was born. Rape fantasies allow women to enjoy sex without the guilt. Most DARK fics include the woman orgasming, usually multiple times, which in and of itself is unusual in the real world. (Hell, women fake orgasms so they don’t hurt their partners feelings or are too shy to ask for what they need in bed). Rape fantasies give women the freedom to experience sexual acts they may have been told were “gross” ie receiving oral sex or “taboo” ie anal sex or multiple partners. DARK fics work the same way. In the enlightened age of 2021 women’s bodies are STILL being regulated. We are still being called sluts and whores for actively pursuing sexual satisfaction. DARK fics give us the opportunity to explore our sexual desires and needs in a guilt free environment. You have an earth shattering orgasm from having your pussy eaten until you cry? No shame because you didn’t have a choice. Get off from having your face fucked? No shame because you didn’t have a choice. See how this works? Rape fantasies/DARK fics are an escapist way to enjoy sex. To wallow in pleasure that you have no choice but to enjoy.

5) Some DARK fics pull in aspects of BDSM or rather subsets of BDSM. The BDSM community is a large and varied one. There are hundreds of kinks. One of the subsets includes Edge play which involves kinks such as pain, knife, fear, degradation, blood etc. DARK fics can also include some form of a Dominate/submissive dynamic. Again, it’s a subset of D/s relationships that delve into “consensual” non-consensual sex acts. Play or scenes revolve around the submissive being taken against their will, “forced” to engage and enjoy the sexual acts being performed. As with rape fantasies/DARK fics it allows the submissive to enjoy sex, in a safe environment, without the guilt. This is probably TMI but as a submissive myself Edge play allows me to fully experience my sexuality by allowing me to give control over to someone else. DARK fics serve the same purpose. (True BDSM ALWAYS involves willing partners and healthy power dynamics.)

6) People deal with trauma in a million different ways. DARK fics are a way for people to work through their feelings. NEITHER YOU NOR ANYONE ELSE GETS TO DICTATE HOW SOMEONE DEALS WITH THEIR TRAUMA. I will not expand on this because I have no idea how others deal with trauma and I will not make presumptions as to why they choose the methods they do.

7) It is perfectly normal to become sexually aroused or think a DARK fic “is hot.” It all goes back to allowing oneself to enjoy sex without the guilt. Having numerous partners at the same time, anal sex or female receiving oral sex are common themes in DARK fics. In the real world women who participate in multiple partner sex or anal sex are still, unfairly, seen as “dirty” or “slutty,” or “freaky.” However, men who engage in the same acts with women are not. DARK fics allow women the freedom they are denied.

8) Despite the reasons I have listed above, no one needs a reason or your permission, to write, read, and enjoy a DARK fic.

I apologize if I rambled on. But this subject pisses me off. It is neither mine nor any other writer's job to cater to what you deem acceptable.

(This post focuses on the cis female/male dynamic of DARK fics. “Female” could be replaced with gay, lesbian, trans, bi, asexual, pansexual, gender fluid or any other individual/gender who has been denied access to enjoy their own sexuality. I do understand that there are many other factors that affect those not considered cis female or male but, due to my own lacking, I don’t know enough to properly and respectfully address those factors. I apologize for this.)

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writing-in-april · 4 years ago

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Any Iteration

Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: Reader is nervous that this new iteration of her won’t be something Spencer will like.

A/N: This is my first fic for my 1250 follower celebration!! If you want another fic with nipple piercings check out my first smut ever- Surprise Pretty Boy. It’s also based on this request that my amazing girlfriend @spencers-dria gave me- also please go send her some love she just tested positive for covid 🥺 Also again thank you all for 1250 followers- I can’t believe this is my 4th follower celebration!! I’m planning to continue to do them every time I hit another milestone (every 250) however- if I hit one while I’m doing my 30 fics in 30 days for April I’m going to find an alternative way to celebrate besides my usual 7 fics in 7 days- let me know what y’all would be open too (maybe a bunch of fic rec lists or maybe a writing contest 🤷‍♀️ idk send me an anon if you have an opinion on what would be the best option!) Thanks for reading and requests are open!

Warnings: 18+, Non specific dom, Nose piercing (F), Nipple Piercings (F), Lots of nipple play, Unprotected sex, Slight bit of cockwarming at the end

Main Masterlist Word Count: 2.1k

Spencer wasn’t one to get angry about anything, disappointment or frustrations were the most extreme negative feelings that he normally felt towards someone that had wronged him. I was dreadfully afraid to see the look of disappointment on Spencer’s face.

We hadn’t been dating for long, only about three months of official dating. We also hadn’t gotten much further than a heated makeout session so he wouldn’t have seen any of the other piercings I had hidden under my shirt.

I had other piercings that weren’t visible to the naked eye that didn’t help quelling the fear that I felt. He had never taken off my shirt before as we had decided to go at a relatively slow pace in our relationship. I wondered in fear if he would also be disappointed with the barbells that were pierced through both of my nipples or- would he like them because they were not as prominent as the ring that was proud on my face.

I had said I’d meet him at his apartment to watch some Dr. Who and eat whatever take out we were feeling like that night. My nerves were lit with worry as I stood in the elevator after he had buzzed me up.

When he opened the door to his apartment to let me in I held my head slightly down as I walked in not wanting to have the conversation about the nose ring while I was in the hallway.

“Do you like it?” The words slipped out immediately when I turned to face him, not even letting him get a good look at me before speaking, my voice meek.

“Like what?” He was still confused, until I pointed to the ring that was pierced through my nose. “Oh- of course I love it!”

“Thanks, Spencer.” I fidgeted with my fingers a little still feeling nervous even though he had said he loved it.

“Why do you look so nervous?”

“I was afraid you wouldn’t like it.” My admission made Spencer frown and silence fell between us for a second while he pondered my words.

“I’d love any iteration of you.” There was no hesitation when he spoke. He always had such a way with words, including when he was ranting and of course his stuttering when he was embarrassed or nervous. His eyes were wide with adoration as if he’d never consider thinking you were anything less than gorgeous.

A rush of boldness came through me, wanting to show him what else I had hidden. My fingers danced along the hem of my shirt, maybe this was moving a bit faster than what we had spoken about earlier. But, I wanted to show him, to either let it lead to something more or to let him know what he was looking forward to when we made that step at a later date.

“Well- if you like this one I have another piercing that you might enjoy…” My voice was still holding a bit of tension, he may have liked the nose ring- but would he like the others?

When I pulled off my top his eyes went wide, his pupils expanding into black pools, he did not stop me. Then when my bra went off finally exposing the barbells that sat under my clothes everyday he was stunned speechless. I withered a bit under his gaze, fearing that my boldness had scared him. “I’m sorry if that was too much.”

He cut me off by speaking quickly, “N-not too much- just ummm- shocked??”

“Do you like them Spencer?” My confidence had returned a bit since he had confirmed that he did in fact, like them, but I still was holding back a bit.

When he gasped out a little ‘yes’ I decided to stop holding back, stepping closer towards him.

“You can touch them Spencer, that’s part of the reason why I got them.” I leaned in to press a soft ghost of a kiss to the shell of his ear making him shudder, I then whispered, “it makes them more- sensitive.”

A groan from deep in Spencer’s chest rose up quickly taking me by slight surprise. His large hands then rose up to finally palm my breasts, his hesitation had been whisked away by my words.

When he was no longer satisfied with palming my boobs he reached up with one hand to pinch my left nipple slightly. The slight sting sent a shock of pleasure down my spine in an instant, my panties dampening further in quick response.

A moment of silence passed, the tension suspended thick and heavy in the air before Spencer spoke, “Did you like that?”

I knew it was a rhetorical question, but I still answered with a slight whimper in my voice, “Yes!”

The confident smirk on his face was something I hadn’t seen much of from Spencer, but I was thoroughly enjoying it. He pinched them both this time- and much harder too. The moan I let out was almost pornographic which spurred Spencer on to continue to pinch them, rolling the buds between his fingers before pulling again.

When he moved forward to wrap his lips around one of my nipples I felt like I had gone to heaven. As he laid kisses all along my chest I couldn’t help but try to grind my hips up into him, however I couldn’t from the position I was in.

I was tired of not being able to touch Spencer in the way I wanted, I wanted to give him some pleasure too. I pulled his mouth off of me momentarily so I could push him down to sit on the couch to be able to straddle him properly. He had whined a bit in protest at first, but when my legs that were now stripped of their clothing slung over his lap his complaint died in his throat.

My core rested right over the prominent bulge in his slacks now. I smirked cheekily a little bit before grinding down onto him.

His lips captured my nipple again, this time the one that had been slightly neglected. This time he also decided to bite his teeth down slightly and nibble a little.

“Harder, please!” I gasped as I continued to rock my hips over his clothed cock. He thankfully obliged me by taking my perked nipple and slightly sawed it back and forth between his teeth. The pleasure that came through me from his actions far outweighed the pain, the moan that came falling from my lips was a sign of that.

A squeak then fell from my lips as I was suddenly lifted up and then set on my back. I guess he had gotten impatient from my teasing.

“You’re needy.” I commented with a smirk. He had been unbuttoning his pants when I spoke, but paused when the words came out of my mouth. He then pinned my hands above my head with one of his own and dipped the other between my folds.

“Who’s really the needy one here?” I definitely liked the little taste I was getting of this side of Spencer, that was firmly evident by the amount of slickness was evident on his fingers when he brought them up to my mouth. I wrapped my lips around his fingers eagerly before he could pull them away bobbing my head as much as I could in my constricted position pinned underneath him.

“Fuck-“ He swore which was another normally uncharacteristic thing for Spencer, it spoke to his own neediness. Though I could not make a remark about it as his fingers were still far down my throat.

When he removed his fingers he also lessened his grip on my hands that had been pinned. I wiggled out of his grip to help him get his slacks out of the way. I didn’t care if I was needy as he had said, I was tired of the teasing and my arousal was so prominent I could feel it dripping down my thighs.

He didn’t need any preparation either, his erection looking almost a little painful. ThoughI was more caught up with observing how beautiful he looked- which wouldn’t normally be the adjective someone would use, but it perfectly described Spencer’s cock.

He filled me slowly, letting me feel every vein and letting himself feel every ridge. After he filled me all the way to the hilt he stopped for a moment, just to relish in the feeling of being impatient. I however was too impatient.

“Please move, Spencerrrr…”

“And you say you’re not the needy one…” He commented with another smirk that was now becoming a staple on his face, I never wanted it to leave. I moved my own hips, squirming underneath him to try to coax him into moving.

When he finally obliged me by snapping his hips quickly up into me I couldn’t help but involuntarily make a desperate moan.

It wasn’t long until he had created a steady rhythm along with me. The pace we had set wasn’t rushed, but was still desperate in a way. His thrusts were deep and quick, but he always paused a minute moment at the end of each thrust to appreciate me fully.

Our hands couldn’t stop exploring each other while he kept up our pace. From the amount of time Spencer was lingering to play with my boobs you’d think he was obsessed, maybe he was just a little. He also made sure to pepper kisses all along my neck, jaw, and face. He even made an effort to kiss the tip of my nose, making everything much more sweet.

I however had decided to rest my hands on his hips and ass, sometimes pushing him forward slightly when I felt our pace faltering slightly. When he started to pick up the pace I could feel my pleasure starting to come to its peak. I was going to fall over the edge soon and fast.

“I’m gonna cum!” I gasped, almost so whispley that it was barely sensical. Spencer was able to still understand my words, pitching his hips to hit at my sweet spot more intensely. Then he moved his dexterous fingers down across my boobs pinching my nipple on last time before he spoke,

“Go ahead, I want you to cum for me.”

My hands wound their way into his hair trying to grasp onto something as my orgasm washed over me in waves of pleasure. Spencer too wasn't too far behind, his own triggered as my walls clamped down tightly around him. We rode out our highs together, our heavy breaths mingling in harmony as we started to come down.

Spencer’s gaze was still heavily fixated on my body as we both caught our breath again. His eyes were glanced down at my naked chest, pupils still wide with wonder as he got to fully take in the sight without being clouded by lust. I couldn’t help but want to tease him a little.

“Hey, my eyes are up here, mister.” I said cheekily, though I could tell that he had definitely missed my joke by the look on his face.

“Sorry!” His little squeak was adorable and he started to move his way off of me with averted eyes until I stopped him.

“Spencer- I was joking.” The smile that was prominent on my face then morphed into a coy look. I moved my hands down to cup my own boobs before continuing while I pinched my nipples like he had done, “You’ve got permission to look anytime you want.”

His shoulders slumped a little as they always did when he was relieved, I was happy to see his own smile back matching mine.

We had no desire to move from our position, at least for a little while until I had to get up to clean myself. But, I was content to bask in bliss with Spencer for a while.

He brought me out of my thoughts by booping the tip of my nose with his pointer finger, my nose scrunching up a little in response. I giggled a little bit, moving my own pointer finger up to boop his own cute little button nose.

“Maybe you’d also look good with a nose ring.” He snorted loudly into my ear, making another fit of giggles erupt from me. At least this time my joke was caught by Spencer.

“Maybe so, but no. I’d like it better on you anyway.” His goofy little smile brought me such joy. In hindsight I should have never worried about Spencer loving my piercings, he’d think I was beautiful no matter what iteration I was. The little kiss he left on my nose was a testament to that.

—-

Tag list (message me if you want to be added):

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@shotarosleftpinky @90spumkin @kyra-morningstar @s1utformgg

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#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #1250 follower celebration #1250 followers #criminal minds smut #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler smut #mgg #mgg x reader #mgg smut

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snidgetwidgeon · 4 years ago

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Son of Hylia, Daughter of Farore

A roleswap Zelink AU

Art by @anxioussailorsoldier and used here with permission

This story is a one-shot inspired by the prompts from @drsteggy and was gifted to her in a fic exchange.

~~~

Link awoke suddenly, desperately trying to cling to the vision of a woman surrounded by bright light as it diminished from his foggy mind. Try as he might to enter back into the haze of his mysterious dream, sounds came louder and clearer to his ears, and he registered the rustle of the sheets sliding against his feet as he stretched, his senses slowly returning. Today would be a trying affair. He always remained fatigued after she appeared to him, ever speaking yet rendered frustratingly silent.

Perhaps he could try to lay low, hide in the library, and search yet again on the shelves he’d already scoured for something he may have missed; something to prove it was possible that he was having the visions vessels were known to have had. He just couldn’t interpret them. He spared a bittersweet thought for his late mother. She would have known, would have shown him. Or perhaps she would have bore a daughter, and there would be no question; and he could have supported his sister when they found out the Calamity was foretold to return.

But the Kingdom of Hyrule was left with a Prince at the precipice of doom. He’d never felt more useless, or more determined to do something about it. He would find a way. He would protect everyone.

Zelda shifted her feet, practicing her forms to warm up before training. She missed her scimitar. This new blade felt so different and she had to relearn how to make it an extension of herself. It was humbling when sparring partners she had previously bested came out on top. It just proved she still had much to learn and needed to become proficient with many weapon types if she wanted to be the greatest.

She recalled being a bit intimidated as her group of friends grew over the years. Where they used to be physical equals, they now towered above her; but she supposed she could be thankful for the challenge because it caused her to become an incredibly scrappy fighter, always looking for openings she could wheedle into.

This time she wheedled too far and forgot to watch her flank while in pursuit of one of her opponents. Another warrior swept in and bashed her ribs as she was on an upswing and it sent her flying. As she was pulled up, she couldn’t help but think spitefully that the same would not have happened if she were allowed her weapon of choice. She could have recovered with her scimitar but the swing on the Master Sword was different.

“Nice air you caught there,” her sparring partner teased in Gerudo. “Again?”

Zelda recovered her blade from a few paces away and declined, “I think I’ll just nurse my wounds and ego for awhile, thanks.”

“Suit yourself. I recommend you do solitary for a few days with your new acquaintance,” she pointed her chin towards the Master Sword in Zelda’s grip. “See if you two can make friends,” she winked and ran back to join the fray.

Zelda stared down at the sword with slight contempt. Urbosa had told her of the legends she’d learned from the late Queen of Hyrule, and her son, Prince Link- that the sword was wielded to protect Hylia, and how the blade itself chose its master and would even communicate. Someone being chosen meant that a shit storm was likely brewing.

Urbosa also mentioned that preparations were being made against some sort of Calamity. The word made Zelda’s blood run cold and she knew it was something to be feared. If the sword was not speaking to her, perhaps it chose wrong and she was not suited to the challenge. She had tried everything she could think of, even hours of meditation, which she hated because she didn’t like sitting still for long.

But it was all for naught.

She wove her way through the stalls and bustle of the marketplace, sword heavy on her back, and day after day it had only served to weigh her down even more. She could no longer stand it. She exited the north-western gates and ran along the outer wall. Heart pounding and sweating all over, she dug a rather shallow and pathetic hole, chucked the sword in and kicked sand over it before walking away in a huff, muttering, “Curse the day I found your infuriating silence!”

She’d been training in the desert when she discovered it, exploring further than she ever had over the dunes. Following the statues with their guiding swords, she finally came upon the last one and sheltered under her cloak at its base as a sandstorm passed. Thankfully, it was short and as she stood to shake as much sand as she could off her person, she noticed something strange in the distance. She could have sworn she’d reached the last statue of the warriors. Perhaps she’d miscounted as there stood another on the horizon, the reflection of its sword glinting brightly in its grasp.

Zelda took a drink from her ration, taking note of how much was left before deciding she could manage one more. If anything, it would improve her survival skills.

As she neared the solid figure rising out of the sands she noticed that the sword it held was elaborate. Oddly enough, a scabbard for it was slung over the shoulder which made it appear that someone had just left it there. She looked around but only saw a few cacti bearing voltfruits, perfect for carrying around extra moisture for the return trip. Some movement caught her eye behind a cactus and she ran over, pulling her scimitar, in case there was meat to be had, but she was met with a poof of sparkling petals and could have sworn she heard a childish giggle.

After investigating thoroughly, she cut the fruits and placed them into her bag before returning to the statue. It would be a shame to leave such a fine piece of work out in the middle of nowhere. She climbed the figure and slipped the scabbard off the shoulder, letting it fall to the sand before holding the neck and planting her feet against the torso so she could reach the hilt with her free hand. It did not budge. Hiking herself up, she wrapped her legs around the neck so she could use both hands to pull on the wings above the hilt.

She was straining when she heard the laugh again, accompanied by a rattle, and in her distraction, the blade suddenly came loose and they both tumbled into the sand.

She’d thought nothing of it until returning to Gerudo Town.

During a routine visit to the throne room, Chief Urbosa had nearly sent away visiting dignitaries when she spied the sword on Zelda’s back. After the meeting, Urbosa called her into her private quarters, which was very unusual. Perhaps she was to be given a special assignment.

“Where did you find that sword?” Urbosa asked with intense interest and a hint of concern.

Zelda stood at attention and replied concisely, “In the desert, Chief.”

“Zelda, have you any idea what you’ve found?”

Zelda began to doubt her decision to play finders keepers. Maybe it was a ceremonial sword or relic that should have stayed where it was. Though she had been raised with the Gerudo, she certainly did not purport to know all of their culture and was horrified by the idea that she’d deeply offended them.

~~~

Urbosa removed her bracelets and hair ornaments, letting the thick, red locks fall down her back. Making sure her tea would be in reach, she snuggled into her bed and opened a letter from her favorite Hylian. She always saved his letters for the end of the day when her attention could be undivided and she could imagine actually having a conversation with him. He was so bright and inquisitive, and optimistic- as his letter revealed. Just like her love.

~I have not given up my search. I keep thinking that surely, there is a pocket in the library I have not scoured. But then another duty and another day takes me away from it. I see her, Urbosa. It has to mean something. If only I could find evidence that there has been a son of Hylia. Why else would I be given visions? If only I could interpret them...

Do you know how mother did it? Did she ever say anything?~

He then went on to describe his involvement with the funding of the research at the Royal Ancient Lab as well as other gossip that he and Urbosa kept up on, including their inside jokes about stuffy nobles. He also wanted to hear more about the warrior who had pulled the Master Sword.

~Does the bearer of the Blade that Seals the Darkness fare well? The moment I learned of her, I hoped that it was a sliver of evidence to prove my case. If there is a woman as Farore’s chosen, then perhaps it lends weight to the fact that a man could be Nayru’s chosen. But I’m harping. Perhaps I will be able to meet her soon, though father keeps me tied up in social engagements. He has taken to parading me at events where there are ample amounts of young debutantes to vie for my attention. I’d much rather be studying.~

Urbosa wrote back early the next morning after skimming the letter again.

~It seems our chosen Hero is having trouble awakening the power within the blade. When you sent word of legends that say the sword speaks to a worthy master, she immediately felt inadequate. Zelda excels at any challenge and eventually overcomes all obstacles, so when she continually failed to connect with the sword’s spirit, she took out her frustrations in a childish manner. The other day she was witnessed burying it in the sand outside the town walls. She must have blown off all her steam because she did retrieve it later that night.

I think that learning her fate has been weighing on her. She puts on a stoic face but I can see she has reservations. Perhaps if you two came together, something will give?~

After reading Urbosa’s reply, Link laid the parchment back down on his desk and pondered her proposition. He had been wanting to expand his search outside the castle for sometime and though he enjoyed visiting the Royal Lab, it did not hold any answers for what he sought; they were just a bunch of rowdy mechanics who were a lot of fun to hang around with. But to understand his history and role, he wanted to go on a pilgrimage to the known spiritual sites of Hyrule, and perhaps discover unknown ones as well so he could be better informed on how to defeat the Calamity, and possibly awaken the power of Hylia along the way.

He would start making arrangements right away.

~~~

King Rhoam rapped his knuckles on the door of his son’s study. When Link answered with a curt nod and a polite greeting, he entered, leaving his guard detail outside. He thought it prudent to retain at least some privacy for this matter, considering the gossip it could generate.

“I hear you’re planning some sort of trip,” it came out as a statement more than a question.

“A pilgrimage. To try and find any proof of my suspicions-”

He was interrupted by his father’s large, dissatisfied sigh. “Link, you really must stop harping on about that nonsense. Hylia has only ever been reincarnated into the mortal body of a female, that’s just the way it is. A tradition that extends even far beyond what we have in written history.”

“Exactly. We don’t know everything. How do you explain my visions? Mother had them. She knew how to interpret them.”

“Perhaps they’re just dreams,” Rhoam offered again in a misguided attempt to engage.

Link smacked the book he was about to pack on the table in frustration. “I can’t believe you keep saying that, you just don’t understand.”

“What I understand is that you continue to foolishly insist on chasing dreams and fantasies rather than doing something tangible for your people. You’re wasting time, Link. You should be courting and choosing a wife so that you can pass on the bloodline to a potential Princess who will-” Rhoam saw the shock in his boy’s face and tried to change track, “We have no idea when the Calamity will strike, we should be doing everything we can to prevent disaster.”

Link clenched his jaw as a deep anger and loathing swelled in his breast. Voice trembling in rage, he rebutted, “I am not going to produce an heir just to send her to the slaughter. I will fight my own battles. This Calamity is coming down on us! I just need to figure out how to awaken Hylia’s power.” He grabbed his bag and stormed out before Rhoam could push his agenda further.

~~~

The next letter Urbosa received from Link outlined his travels. She grinned as she read through them, glad that he’d managed to get away.

~The Forgotten Temple was very difficult to access, and though it did not produce any results, it was a breath taking trip. It has the largest Goddess Statue I have ever seen and I felt a peculiar familiarity while standing under her benevolent smile. I think this is promising.

We’re now at the ruins of the Temple of Time on the Great Plateau. I’m no stranger to the place of course, but the Priestess has been most helpful in providing old texts to study that were not available at the Castle. She’s even offered to assign a scribe to make copies for me.

I hope to be underway again soon and I would like to visit the Seven Heroines. I want to leave no stone unturned. I shall send a dispatch for when we expect to be arriving in the desert.~

When the time came, Urbosa bid Zelda to be an escort for the Prince across the sands to Gerudo Town. “Listen carefully, Zelda. Being the Prince is more than reason enough to keep him safe, but there may be a chance that he is so much more. The fact that you wield that sword lends weight to his theory that he may be Hylia reborn.”

Zelda’s eyes widened but she remained silent, nodding dutifully.

“I’ll need you to deliver some supplies to him so that he may enter unmolested upon arrival.”

“Chief?” Zelda asked, uncertain about the order. Hylia possibly being in a boy she could handle, but in all her time there, she’d never heard of a voe entering Gerudo Town. For Urbosa to speak of it almost as if it were done every other day was- confusing, to say the least.

Urbosa raised her brow at the question. “He is my Oten’vehvi and knows how to behave within these walls. You need not concern yourself with the politics, just act as his personal guard.”

“Yes, Chief.”

She made her preparations and checked that all was secure with the ‘contraband.’ The idea of meeting the Prince was troubling to say the least. She felt completely inadequate, bearing a sword that considered her unworthy. Perhaps she could pass it onto him and he could find the most courageous person in Hyrule. With his resources she was sure it wouldn’t be that hard. Then again, legendary swords weren’t known for choosing incorrect Heroes, so what was wrong with her?

They would just have to work together somehow.

She rode most of the way at a leisurely pace behind her sand seal until she noticed a scuffle as she neared Kara Kara. “HUP!” she directed her seal to go a bit faster to investigate.

A couple of Hylian vai shrieked when they saw her. “The Prince! Please save our Prince!” they cried as they pointed west.

There were two Yiga chasing after a nimble blond clad in light blue. She sprung after them, tongue rolling in a call to let her mount know they needed to go as fast as if they were fleeing a molduga.

The Prince was doing well for himself until he fell, a prey disposition coming over him. He scooted back but could only stare at the assassins, frozen in fear.

Zelda used her inertia to whip across the sand and jumped to land between the Prince and his attackers. She drew her sword, imbued with courage and confident that she could easily protect the boy against the likes of this desert rabble. She almost become distracted by the sword’s sudden glow before exchanging blows with the masked Yiga. They soon realized they were no match for her and dispersed in pops of red and orange light, laughter echoing in their place.

Breathing heavily, she turned back to face the Prince who was still flat on his bum. They both ogled the glowing sword.

An ethereal, disembodied voice broke the silence, “Master, it is good to see you again.”

Their eyes snapped to each other and searched for understanding. There was an immediate and unmistakable bond between them. They’d both heard it.

“I see...” Zelda began. She glared down at the Master Sword, fist clenching the handle and shaking with anger. “So you only deign to speak when your charge is present?” Her voice rose, “I wasn’t good enough for you?! You picky piece of shit!” she yelled as she hurled the sword into the dunes.

Link gaped in disbelief that his protector was so uncouth when something profound occurred to him. He fell back into the sand laughing, a massive wave of relief washing over him.

She looked at him curiously. “What? What is it?”

His laughter died down and he gazed into the sky, moisture glistening in the corner of his eye. “She’s with me.”

Zelda’s eyebrows knitted in confusion, unaware of the turmoil he had experienced regarding his identity.

Link stood and brushed himself off then held out his hand in greeting. “You must be Zelda. Bearer of the Blade that seals the Darkness.”

She accepted his shake and added spitefully, “More like the blade that won’t open its trap unless its mommy is around.”

“You know, I find it very intriguing, my mother’s name was also Zelda.”

“Yes, my mother was a big fan. It’s kind of flattering, she was a great lady. But people always joke that I’m the lost, secret princess and other nonsense.” She started to move away but he touched her arm and she paused.

“Thank you- for saving my life; but also for revealing the truth. Now that I know she’s here,” he touched his heart, “I will find her.”

Zelda eyed him like a strange bug, still unsure as to what he was on about. She patted his shoulder as she walked over to retrieve her weapon, “Good luck with that.”

~~~

A few nights later, Link and Urbosa took a stroll just outside of town to enjoy each other’s company, catching up on their daily lives. The stars twinkled brightly and the moon shone pale on the dunes, a steady breeze drifting the sands away to the dark horizon. He’d just intimated what his father would have him do to stay the coming Calamity.

She touched his shoulder in support, “And what did you say?”

“That this was our battle. And I would absolutely not have a child just to-” he sighed deeply. “I mean, I know the legends. There will always be a vessel of Hylia and her chosen Hero, but to be so deliberate and unfeeling about it, I just...”

“It’s alright. Your father has always been rather blunt, and practical to a fault. For what it’s worth, I believe in you. The visions you describe sound very similar to what your mother shared with me.”

He looked up to her with a smile, “It’s worth a lot, you’re my Oten’baba; your opinion matters to me more than anyone else.”

They continued on for a short time in companionable silence when Urbosa stopped and lifted her head to the night, listening and placing a hand on her scimitar.

“What is it?” Link asked, only noticing after he’d taken a few steps ahead.

A raucous laughter cut across the desert and as quick as Urbosa had been to draw her blade and prepare a snap of deadly electricity over her foes, two of them grabbed the Prince and held their sickles to his neck causing her to stay her hand.

“What a lovely package we have here tonight. Not only can we bag the boy, we can finally rid ourselves of the thorn in our side, Gerudo Tempest!” a Yiga foot soldier, hidden amongst the rest, spat the last two words out in disgust.

They attacked and dozens fell upon the Chief, running head on and popping up behind. A dance of blades began and Link struggled to free himself. Urbosa tried to lead her foes away but Link’s captors followed, dragging his feet through the sand.

“You’ll not be using your lightning with the precious Prince so close, will you?” gloated the same antagonizing voice.

Link cried out in terror when he saw a Yiga succeed in cutting her arm. She seethed and decked them right across the jaw. When they fell she jumped onto their back and launched herself in the air so she could shoot off a bolt.

“Oh, no! Is the Tempest in distress?” the voice goaded, and the masks cackled.

Link couldn’t tell where the mocking was coming from, they were everywhere and nowhere at once. There were too many. Urbosa was becoming overwhelmed and aid may not arrive in time- a gash landed on her leg- he was going to lose her. The laughing was getting louder, the air becoming so thick with magic that it tasted like chalk on his tongue- a slice was delivered up her back and she cried out. He squeezed his eyes shut and thought of his mother. What would she do? There hadn’t been anything he could do for her then, but he was here now for his living mother.

Link’s eyes shot open just in time to see Urbosa drowning under the onslaught and his insides fell into oblivion. They were replaced by a warmth that spread through his body and beyond. He jerked his head in confusion as those that held him fell away. He was free. Sparks akin to those he felt when he fell asleep on his hand in the library spread through his fingers and he launched himself into the foray. He clawed through Yiga soldiers to get to her and did not see how each one he yanked was thrown back with a force of golden energy.

“Urbosa! URBOSA!?” They hit the ground.

The desert was lit with a false sunrise as Link crushed Urbosa in a desperate embrace. The light washed over her, healing her wounds as it cascaded around them in a dome, their enemies lying motionless on the outside.

After a few stunned moments, they opened their eyes and picked each other up. Urbosa held his face in her hands and wiped his tears. “Just look at you,” she said, smiling proudly.

“I- I couldn’t. I was,” he stumbled over his words as more tears fell, “I was going to lose you. I couldn’t lose you too,” he cried into her chest and she held him close.

~~~

Link was a natural at seal surfing. That’s what Zelda thought before she realized that he must have actually visited Gerudo Town previously and she just didn’t know it. They had left at sunrise and arrived to their destination mid morning. After taking a much needed rest, re-hydrating and snacking, Link took a leisurely walk around the place to get his bearings while Zelda tended to the sand seals. She joined him after they were settled for a long siesta and the two of them began their research of the Seven Heroines in interest.

There were orbs scattered about the place. Very large, Link noticed. He pushed one with his foot. And heavy. The sand seals might have to work after all. He tasked Zelda with collecting any she could find and in the meantime he studied the statues, picking up rather quickly that some had prominent corresponding symbols to the orbs on various parts of their bodies. Some he couldn’t make out as they were too high so there would be some educated guesses by process of elimination.

Zelda couldn’t help being drawn into his enthusiasm, the way he took notes- the face he made when he took those notes; it was all very quaint, and a bit impressive. Having spent most of her time advancing physically, she appreciated the mental gymnastics they were doing. Where most might sit back defeated, Link pushed through with a calm determination. They tried dropping the orbs in the pedestals in numerous combinations, each with a sound theory behind them. How was Link to know that if shrines had been activated, he would have succeeded in getting a result on the first try? A fact that they both wouldn’t learn for another 103-odd years.

After the sun set, Link scrawled until the dimming light rendered the page unreadable. Zelda had already set about making camp. They could head back to town in the morning, both were knackered. Even with the help of the seals, they’d heaved plenty of orbs around for hours. Eventually he plopped down on the rug with her and heaved a big sigh.

“Wow, you been working all day or something?” she asked in jest as she turned the vegetables in the fire.

“Yeah, something like that. It’s been a long while since I’ve been out in the field.”

She regarded him thoughtfully. “What’s it like up at the castle?”

“Stuffy.”

She chuckled and didn’t press but it wouldn’t be fair to leave it at that. For all its faults, it deserved more. “I loved exploring the halls as a boy. I’m fairly certain I found long lost passages even the castle historian didn’t know about. My favorite places are the Library and the Observatory. “

“Sounds about right,” Zelda smirked.

“Ha ha. But really, the Library has books as far as you can see, you’d never finish them in one lifetime. And my mother used to take me to the Observatory. I still go there to feel close to her.”

They sat in silence for a moment when Zelda touched his forearm. “I’m sorry you lost her.”

Link nodded in thanks and Zelda started to collect the hearty truffles from the coals. “I lost my father,” she began, and Link was a bit surprised she was sharing.

“He was a knight. We didn’t have any other family close by and mom didn’t fancy moving to Tabantha Village. She hates the cold,” Zelda added as she passed Link a stick laden with dinner.

“Thanks. So she just came to the desert instead?” Link asked before blowing generously and taking a bite.

“She had a close friend here who is practically my auntie. I think she was hoping we could just get away and start fresh from everything we knew before. But then I had to take after dad. Took her a while and a lot of arguments to come to terms with the fact that I was also a warrior.” She shook her head. “I feel bad. I’ve put her in a constant fear of losing me too but... you have to do what your soul tells you, right?”

Link closed his eyes and thought of Hylia, feeling a vibration in his core. “Right.” He agreed thoughtfully.

“Anyway, then this happened,” she said, unsheathing the sword on her back a few inches and letting fall back in with a shinck. “That was not a fun conversation.”

“I can imagine,” Link commiserated as he thought of his own recent rows with his father.

Zelda took a bite of her own truffle and regarded him up and down. With no tact for manners, she said with a full mouth, “You’re alrigh’ fo’ a Pince.”

Link laughed and his genuine mirth spread warmth through Zelda’s chest. “And you’re alright for a Hero.”

#breath of the wild #zelink #fanfiction #roleswap au #prince link #champion zelda #urbosa #king rhoam #Son of Hylia Daughter of Farore #snidgetwidgeon scribbles

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killerandhealerqueen · 3 years ago

Note

Headcanon ask

For the morally grey!gaon arranged marraige au thou- im thinking of a scenario where some korean elite kidnaps both k and gaon ( maybe to a place like k's death scene where k is still hanging there and gaon is held on gunpoint ?? ) and makes yohan choose between k and gaon.

Its prob a point where yohan and gaons relationship is still business partner like ( as said in ur prev headcanon )

Although they do manage to get away without anyones death ( prob w the help of gaons connections ig ) gaon thinks / deep down knows that yohan would choose k over him bcuz ?? K has been w yohan longer since him and hes just yohans convinient fiance, a tool to aid in his revenge

Headcanons on how it would play out next ?

Yes this is so oodly specific im sorry 😭 and thankyouu

Well, I'm currently in the process of writing the Arranged Marriage Au, but I don't mind expanding on the idea a little (none of this will probably be in the fic)

Gaon would probably be very silent or sullen and Yohan would find that odd as Gaon seems to be a person who smiles and is always happy

Yohan goes to ask him what's wrong and Gaon would immediately snap back to his "normal" self and assure Yohan that everything's fine and nothing's wrong

Yohan doesn't believe him and wants to keep asking him what's wrong but Gaon's already walking away from him to go talk to Elijah or go cook

Yohan frowns but says nothing and the day/evening continues as normal but there's tension in the air between Gaon and Yohan and it's awkward and even Elijah can feel it

She asks about it but Gaon quickly cuts her off, saying that nothing is wrong and to eat her dinner before he stands up and walks off

Elijah looks over at Yohan, who's watching Gaon walk away, before smacking him on the arm, making him look back at her with wide eyes. She then motions with her chin to go after him so he sighs and stands up, going after him

He finds Gaon in the study and he looks like he's deep in thought so he walks over to him and sits down next to him, startling him

"So. What's wrong?"

"Nothing"

"Kim Gaon, don't lie to me"

Gaon is quiet before he explains how he knows that he's just a convenient part of his plan, okay, he knows that, and today's little....kidnapping stunt just proved it further that if it really came down to the wire, Yohan would choose K over Gaon because K's been with Yohan longer

Yohan is stunned that Gaon thinks that Yohan wouldn't save him so he quickly wraps his arms around him and holds him and assures him that he would figure out a way to save both him and K, not one or the other because both men were important to him

Yes K may have known him longer, but K was just a friend, a subordinate, Gaon was his husband, there's a difference

Gaon is the one who's stunned now but he's a little happy to know that Yohan cares for him...at least a little bit

#sass answers #the devil judge #kim gaon #kang yohan #kang elijah #the devil judge headcanon

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lyracasstuff · 4 years ago

Text

I am NOT prepared to make myself sad,, you FRENCHIE!! ಥ⌣ಥ

However,, I will accept because as much as it pains me to write angst,, I also have to in order to improve my writing skills..

I'll do this in one shot/fic form as I feel as though I can convey emotions there better. That and I've been doing headcannons as of late,, so let's switch it up a notch..

WARNINGS: DEATH, BLOOD, SPOILERS FOR JOSEPH'S BACKSTORY

Joseph x fem! S/o

To be Sick at Heart💔

"How did this all happen?" thought the Frenchman, although it was more retorical, as he already knew deep down the answer to that question... He just can't accept it..

You had been an acquaintance to Joseph before, seeing as how your family served him, and the both of you only grew closer once you got caught in the twisted "games" of the manor. Joseph asked as to what had tempted you to accept the invitation of the manor.

It turns out, you were looking to find people who you can treat as your own family. In all your life, you practically had been treated like dirt, especially the time when Joseph had gone missing. Your family had given you love and acceptance, but it was short-lived seeing as how their lives were slowly taken from them early on in your life by sickness, you had no one but the other servants to take care of you.

The other servants cared for you, but not to the same extent as your family... You were aware of that fact as did they. So, when the invitation arrived, you couldn't help but accept right away.

It promised that "they" could fulfill your desire of having the bonds and relationships that you never had growing up, why wouldn't you accept? You would be missing out on a golden oppurtunity.

And so, that was how you ended up in this morbid manor, tricked and forced to participate in these "games" that gets everyone hurt much like every other survivor who came here...

Days had gone by. Weeks. Months. Hell, even years, and you were all still being forced to play.

Thankfully, you had everyone to keep you company during these times.. Thanks to your loving nature, you were able to be close with everyone in the manor, even those who are notorious at being secretive like Norton. You even managed to befriend some of the hunters as well.

But most especially of all, you were thankful you had Joseph to be there with you.

You were quite shocked when you saw the silver-haired count, as he had seemingly disappeared out of nowhere the last time. So to see him here made you pleasantly surprised.

Joseph as well felt shocked when he saw you here, albeit he took some time to figure who exactly you were as you looked extremely familiar to him.

It didn't take long for the both of you to grow close to each other where outside of matches, you two were practically inseperable. The both of you would be spotted having afternoon tea together, walking around the manor together, sightseeing for new photoshoot locations together.

You always did things together...

Over time though, you would grow feelings for the count and the same can be said for Joseph as well. However, your fears of being rejected has delayed the both of you from ever confessing about your feelings toward each other. The others in the manor can most definitely see your connection as bright as day, but they really didn't know how to go about helping you about it. After all, all of them never really had great experiences in their lives, so they don't know what would normally be best in a situation like this..

Despite this, you can't help but feel content and happy that you have found people that you can treat as your family. Emily and Michiko were like motherly figures to you with their kind nature. Leo treated you like his own daughter, much like how he treats Emma. Wu Chang, Andrew, Norton, Naib, and Eli were like big brothers for you, always being protective of you to keep you safe.

You really felt at home with all of the inhabitants. It almost felt as if being stuck in a manor wasn't so bad after all...

Almost

There was still one more thing you wanted to do. You had discovered your family, but you wanted to expand on that desire..

You wanted to start your own family

And you would want to do so with someone you love... That someone would be the Frenchman with whom you have grown immense feelings for.. So you sent him an invitation to go to the balcony of the garden at night, where you won't be disturbed by the others...

Unbeknownst to you, the Frenchman had been thinking the same thing, especially after reading the invitation you sent him. Can you blame him though? Seeing you interacting with him, along with all of the others, made him feel butterflies in his stomach. How you unconditionally helped the other inhabitants through their issues and suffering, not because you needed something from them, but because you wanted to. You wanted to help them, you wanted to nurture them, you wanted to support them...

With that feeling alone, Joseph finds that he just couldn't take it anymore... He wants to confess to you..

He wants to be with you, to call you his love, to marry you and call you his wife, and to start a family as well..

With that thought, he made up his mind and decided to accept your invitation, and there, he will confess..

It was night time, you were already at the balcony waiting, knowing that Joseph values punctuality and doesn't like to be kept waiting. Soon after, Joseph shows up. It seems as though he had been brisk walking which is evident by the way he's catching his breath in the slightest.

Taking a deep breath, you slowly and calmly began to confess your feelings towards him and how you wanted to start building a future with him as the father of your children.

Joseph was in awe, for he had never could've guessed that you felt the same way. He accepted, saying how he had always thought about you the same way, and that he would be honored to be the father of your children. Joseph took a few steps towards you, with you unconsciously doing the same. Joseph wrapped his arms around your waist to pull you closer, while you wrapped yours around his neck.

He lifted his hand and tilted your chin upwards to stare at your features, admiring them. The way your skin glistened in the moonlight, how your eyes sparkled with life when he stared at them. How your cheeks were flushed with the slightest hint of color.

You looked angelic to him.

Brushing his thumb over your lower lip, he slowly closed his eyes as he allowed his lips to connect with yours.. You can't help but reciprocate immediately, you'd been waiting for this moment to come. You truly felt happy that you took the risk to confess to him, knowing that he may have rejected you instead.

And that was the start of your blossoming relationship...

For the next few years, the two of you became more and more in love with each other every single day. Countless affirmations of love, bouquets of your favorite flowers, numerous cuddling sessions, along with the discussion of having a domestic life together..

You two really had the potential to have a wonderful life together...

But, there are repercussions in growing fond of the potential...

One time at a match, you had been feeling dizzier and more nauseous by the second, so much so that it frequently disoriented you from kiting the hunter properly. At some point even, you threw up a bit. Your team still won the match since the hunter decided to go friendly in the end because of your condition, however they were still concerned for you so they sent you immediately to Emily.

You were diagnosed to be pregnant..

Your thoughts immediately went to Joseph. A mixture of joy and anxiousness washed over you. Can be a good mother for your child? Can you really do this? Can you really start a family like you had promised? What if you do something wrong? What if you're not cut out for this?

Just as your thoughts began to generate more questions, Joseph runs in and looks over to you with wide eyes. Emily must've told him that you were pregnant with his child. He immediately went towards your bed and hugged you as he sobbed his heart out.

He was so convinced that the bright future you two head towards is certain...

Oh, how a fool he was for believing so....

2 months in and your belly hasn't been growing rapidly.. Normally, you would've had a small baby bump forming on your belly... Joseph and Emily had been constantly reassuring you that you might need to readjust your diet more to fit your baby's needs....

But, that's not the only thing bothering you...

You see, just as you haven't "developed" your baby, your dizziness and nausea didn't go away. For quite sometime, you thought it was normal.....

Until you see tiny specks and droplets of blood on your hand...

That's when you realize....

You're not actually pregnant.. You're sick...

Having this sudden realization, you quickly washed your hand and looked at yourself in the mirror... Maybe this was some sort of mistake? Maybe you're actually pregnant and you just scratched the inside of your cheek?

You were hoping. Praying, that it was anything else other than a sickness... However, as time passed, you felt yourself growing weaker and weaker...

For months, you had kept this sickness of yours a secret. You didn't want to make anyone worry about you and you especially didn't want to disappoint Joseph with the fact that you're not actually carrying a baby or make him devastated with your death just as he became devastated with his twin brother's death...

However, try as you may, the longer you kept it a secret, the more the others noticed. How your skin was getting paler, how your cheeks had started to sink in, how you became alarmingly skinnier and bonier, how your eyes became more dull and lifeless...

Most importantly, at how you became increasingly more secretive and quiet about all this.

Joseph was by far being more and more anxious than before. He didn't know what was happening. He wasn't an expert in medicine, but even he could notice that this isn't normal for a pregnancy..

Quickly carrying you to Emily, he asked for a check-up to see what was happening. You would've stopped him if it weren't for the fact that you were so weak, you couldn't move a muscle without hurting it.. There, he was informed about the condition you're in. He was just as shocked as you are, but there's a mixture of fear and hopelessness bubbling inside him...

No. He couldn't let this happen. Not again...

His breathing starts going rapid, his hands start shaking, he hugs himself as he looks at you at your weakened state with tears threatening to spill from his eyes...

Just as he was about to confront you, Victor had entered and pointed towards the main hall, signaling Joseph and Emily to go there.

Apparently, there's a meeting that's going to be held.

Joseph and Emily looked at each other before turning to look at you. Then, they quickly left the room, with you all alone inside with nothing but your thoughts and the life within you.. Or, what's left of it...

The meeting started once Joseph and Emily arrived as they were the only ones left to attend. Emily had to quickly explain your condition when some of the others questioned your whereabouts.. All were quite shocked and concerned about your sickness, however the meeting was said to be an important one so they had to stay. They'll just have to relay the information given to you by the time it's done..

After the meeting, everyone was so shocked and confused that for several moments, no one said a word.. Who wouldn't though? Because after all this time...

They were all finally free

Free from the clutches of the manor, free from the twisted "games", free from the prison that presented itself as a grand oppurtunity for everyone to get what they want.

They were free at last... Now, they can all live their lives as they want it to be...

Suddenly realizing this, Joseph quickly made his way back to your room. There was still hope he thought, he had hoped for you to get better and finally leave this prison together, along with the others.

But what he saw when he opened the door made him feel like his heart had been crushed into a million pieces...

There in your room, was you lying in your bed, breath shallow and rapid, crimson blood dripping from the side of your mouth and staining the sheets, your eyes looking duller and duller as ever...

You were grasping..

Grasping for whatever life you had left within you, it made Joseph run to your side quickly as he cradled your head in his arms, proclaiming you'll be fine and that you're all free now and that you just need to hold on for a little while longer..

But you both know that you won't make it..

You both know that Joseph is more so convincing himself, than convincing you..

The others had rushed in to see you, and they too were crushed for they also wished for you to escape with all of them...

You held Joseph's hand, and told him not to worry anymore.. Looking towards the others, you proclaimed that you had finally found the people that you can call your family, and that even if Joseph can't see you, you'll always be there for him no matter what.. And that you wish for him to be happy and enjoy his newfound freedom, without the confinements of the manor...

Joseph begged you to stay, to hang on, to stay strong, all while sobbing uncontrollably but to no avail...

You withdrew your final breath as your hand became limp, your eyes closed, and your body going cold...

...

You had died

For the second time in his life, he once again witnessed the death of someone he deeply cared about..

First Claude......... And now, you....

Joseph lost it as he let all his tears and sadness out.. Everyone, soon followed suit. They can't help but be crushed at the thought of their friend never making it on time for the escape....

The now former inhabitants of the manor prepared one last funeral in honor of your death, with Aesop embalming you, Andrew preparing the hole from which will forever be your resting place, Emma preparing the funeral flowers, while the others prepared the venue... The Red Church.. Everyone gathered and mourned for your death. By the end of it all, everyone left the cemetery and the manor together, with Joseph gripping a bar of the gate, longing to see you again once more and hoping that you were still alive somehow...

Alas, it never came. And so, he reluctantly left the manor and had trenched forward to live his life "to the fullest"...

But how can he ever live his life as he pleases when you're not around? How can he simply enjoy the pleasures of life when you aren't there to accompany him? How can he move on when he doesn't want to forget you?

These thoughts plague him constantly, as he stirs his tea mindlessly, looking into the distance, as his new "family" were chatting happily, not knowing what goes on inside his head..

He has a family now alright, but it wasn't perfect.. It wasn't with you.

That thought is enough to make him sick at heart, for he will never experience the joy he had longed for when you were still around...

Sick at Heart : to experience deep unpleasant emotions such as grief or disappointment

💔🎞💔🎞💔🎞💔🎞💔🎞💔🎞💔🎞💔🎞

Author's Note: I hope you are all satisfied with this angst, Frenchie... Because you really made my day a bit sadder than usual..

Can someone pls request something fluffy the next time I open my requests?? I need some comforting chocolate cake after that bitter black coffee moment..(╥_╥)

Well,, until next time then! See you all in my next post!! (Ｔ▽Ｔ)💚

#identity v #identity v x reader #identity v oneshots #idv #identity v imagines #idv x reader #identity v photographer #identity v joseph #idv photographer #idv joseph #joseph desaulnier #joseph desaulnier x reader #joseph desaulniers x reader

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pocketramblr · 4 years ago

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other main character meta- Ochako, pt 1

“Could you send me there?” you ask, while i blink, confused. “The world where someone else is the main character? not because i have any hypocritical biases against the one i got, just curious how the fandom meta changes.”

“Oh, yeah, sure.” I nod, thinking, before tapping my wand against your forehead. “Let’s start with Ochako.”

"I'm going to warn you now- I will have to slightly adjust the plot like I did with Mirio, just to actually let her be the main character."

"Yeah, that checks out." You nod, thinking about certain arcs where the female fighting teams get no coverage while the dudes get four different backstory reveals and full fight focus.

"Very well."

The show begins with a brief narration by the girl of quirks and super hero fights- all flashy. Then it zooms out to show the destruction, and a small construction team moving in as Ochako explains that just as there are new careers in society for heroes, there's also a bigger market for construction companies, one of which her own family runs.

"I've always wanted to help them with it, and my quirk would be useful"- a tiny, adorable Ochako finally appears, making rocks in a park float- "but to get a work license like that is expensive and selective- you've got to make a lot of court appearances and convince them why is a good idea and won't destroy the economy. It's much easier to get a hero license."

Then she explains: "Of course, once you have a hero license, you can make a lot more money than just by helping the company. Especially if... Your family company isn't doing very well." A series of tired but loving parents are shown working all hours to make ends meet.

"I want to help them- my parents. They've done everything for me, and they deserve a break. So that's why I'm going to be a hero- their hero."

The training montage is quick, using her quirk during school in training, after school in secret, around the house. She saves up money too, and studies, aiming for a scholarship.

She applies and tests for many hero schools, and the exams all vary widely.

The first episode ends with her looking up at UA, her final one, the one she really hopes to get into.

"Oh, that's nice." You nod. "And we even get to know her parents' quirks here."

"Yep." I agree. "In general, there's a lot more of a look at the financial side. It's pretty interesting."

"And the fandom?"

"Well, certain people get praised for the bare minimum, but I'll admit having a female lead is super uncommon for shonen jump." It's an improvement, though it's up in the air how much of one it will be. "There's also, because we saw a lot more hero schools, a ton of "students at different school" fics, either because they were expelled or because of the danger UA gets into."

"I do kinda feel like this universe is lucky for that sort of world building." You nod.

"It's very cool to see the takes on the aus. But, I will say there's a cost for this world building- the AfO stuff reeeeally comes out of nowhere and tends to not be popular with fans."

The next episode starts, and Ochako helps a boy from falling. "Love interest alert!" The fans notice quickly when the cute boy blushes and doesn't manage to say much before she walks away.

"They caught on quick." You note.

"And they aren't wrong." Not that it's any real feat to be right.

The exam starts, and Ochako is off in a flash. You see a few glimpses of future classmates- Iida, Aoyama, Kirishima.

She does well, racking up villain points and rescue points, until she's a little too ambitious and falls into the rubble. Her nausea is well established by now, everyone knows she's at her limit.

She can't get up.

The green haired boy comes back and stops the zero pointer.

And breaks every bone in the process.

Ochako saves him in return, lifting up the rubble and stopping his fall.

And then vomits violently afterwards.

"You know, I think quirks suck, actually." The fandom tends to agree on this after that episode/chapter. "But it is interesting that there's such a price for the powers, balances it really well."

"Ha." You shake your head. "They caught onto that, quicker."

"Yep." I can't even say it's more highlighted here, it's the exact same way it was shown in our universe- down to the sparkling rainbow puke.

"Though..." You can't quite imagine that's the only thing the fandom is saying isn't actually that great.

"Ding ding ding." I nod. "Did our own main character get treated just like a damsel in distress? Sure, she saved him back, but that just meant she could have floated away on her own in that time, even if it made her sick. Better that than dead. Is it the sexism?" I shrug. "Most decide to wait and see a bit, and by the time they work together in the first battle exercise figure it's a pretty even split between them saving each other."

"So no sexism?" You get happy at that thought.

I cough. "Ah, no. Both in the show and the fandom. You wouldn't believe how many grown men complain about the lady mc, even as they keep watching."

"And have her body pillow."

"Please don't make me think about that." I cover my eyes, but don't deny that it's true. "Anyway, yeah. Get ready for a lot of people to point out that even though the main character is a girl, every single other girl is flat as cardboard so far and that she only has developed friends that are guys."

"Hey, they aren't flat-"

"In the first season? Yeah they are. Unless you meant, physically, in which case..."

"I didn't." You protest. "But I guess I can see your point, at the start."

"Right. Let's continue on."

Uraraka goes to Present Mic to offer her points. The man pats her on the head, and skyrockets to the position of fandom dad.

"It's all about Dadmic and then Dadzawa here," I explain. "The fans were very disappointed to learn Mic wasn't her homeroom teacher, but yeah... He got a huge head start before Dadzawa fics got going."

"Nice. And it's all fanon?"

"Yeah, it may be a good thing he's not actually in it much, or they might realize how much they just made up on their own."

Then she gets accepted in, on hero and rescue points- she's third place overall, and she gets the scholarship.

On the first day of school, she actually gets to know her love interest's name- Midoriya!

There's also the quirk assessment, which really leads to the "expelled to another school" au and the "fire Aizawa and replace him with better Mic" aus, the first of which lasts much longer in the fandom use, but the second one was just as passionate for a while.

Iida becomes the second friend, and gives her the "Infinity Girl" nickname- which actually is the fandom assumption of what her hero name will be for quite a while, a la 'ground zero'.

Then it's time for All Might's first appearance on screen, to much applause of the students, and the announcement that they get their costumes.

During the first battle exercise, there's a lot more lingering camera work in the changing rooms. Ochako gets to expand a lot more on how she didn't want her costume to be that tight. It's uncomfortable, especially when she thinks about wearing it in front of everyone.

"Oh, I forgot she didn't like it at first... Does she just, get used to it here?" It sounds horrible for the plot to just say 'get used to it' to the main character being sexualized by costume makers outside of her control, especially as a child.

"Not on my watch." I mumble, waving the wand. "Don't worry, she'll actually get more costume changes each time, like some other characters."

"Oh good."

Mineta, regrettably, still exists. You find the fandom manages to be even more violent in his removal.

The battle does even out the opinions on Midoriya, as well as lead to a boost in Iida's with his charming little attempt at thinking villainously.

And cements Bakugo as rather hated. No one has really liked him, when the first thing he did was blow up at Midoriya, then get revealed to have called him a cruel nickname all this time. And then specifically hunt him down because all he cares about it beating him up.

"Yeah he's not gonna get a lot of fans here huh."

"He sure never gets first place in the popularity poll." I agree. "Most consider him the subversion of the rival trope to show is just stupid and violent and in real life, people like that don't go anywhere."

"Most?"

I look away. "How dumb of a discourse do you think you could see today?"

"Oh please, show me." You lean in. "It's nice to not have to deal with it in my universe, so I don't care."

The discourse is such.

Bakugo is gay-coded for Midoriya, the violence is a result of him being shoved off for a girl's love interest when she should be single and independent, and the homophobic creator is vilifying all gay people by saying they are predatory to poor straight boys with refused.

"They............... What."

"If it makes you feel better, that's a very brief minority of the fandom. My favorite response to it was "he's not gay-coded, he's bully coded you sanctimonious sumph of a shmuck.""

"Oh good," you sigh. "I'm glad we don't have to deal with actual queerphobic tropes like that."

I stare at you.

"What?"

I sigh. "Nothing, put a pin in that until I bring up the predatory bi thing with Toga."

Your eyes widen, and you start to have some regrets.

"Anyway, we can talk shipping later. Time for more."

The 'exit sign Iida' gives him a boost in being shipped with Ochako, (as well as Yaoyorozu) and also the general idea that "Ochako has two hands."

That one hand can have a boyfriend with a lot of cash to spare for her and the other is also played with.

"I missed the main trio, like this." You smile as they walk off into the sunset after school.

"Yeah." I agree. "Anyway, time for some near death experiences."

The USJ marks the start of the gradual, gradual growth of Dadzawa fics. It also focuses far more on Ochako, Mina, Sero, and Iida having to think strategically to get around Kurogiri. It's only after Iida escapes that we cut back to a slightly abridged version of how Midoriya was doing, then the other kids, before help arrives.

He does still through his first non bone breaking punch though, which makes the audience happy.

All Might saves the day. Aizawa is battered afterwards. Many fans start out by saying they were disappointed, since this was supposed to be the first big fight, and the kids didn't do much. Many others say in response that's the point- we're looking at first years, they had to think and help each other, but in the end they had to rely on adults.

And then the sports festival is announced. They want to do well, because this is how they get work-week placements, which could become internship offers.

Ochako thinks about Hado Nejire, the only intern of a top ten hero, and senior at UA, along with a few others who are on the up and up. She's determined.

"Really? You're bringing in the big three early?" You ask, glancing at my wand.

It's not sparkling.

I cross my arms with a huff. "Look. Nejire is at this point the only intern in the top ten, she would have been recognizable to the students for that, even if they didn't recognize the big three (which really means that they aren't actually called the Big Three by everyone, or at least not a wide enough group for it to be as big a deal as it's treated. Anyway.) But she wasn't, even if she should have been the most famous of the bunch, considering the coverage the first years got in just their first night. That's because a certain someone doesn't actually think of his female characters much, but he has to in this universe, so."

"Ok, yeah, that's fair. So does that change the sports festival?"

"Not... Much." I admit.

“What?”

“Well, keep in mind in the first universe, our main character didn’t make it past the second round in the one-on-one’s. So she’s not exactly guaranteed a win here either.”

You have to nod, admitting that is true.

“And the conflict isn’t so much about having to live up to any predecessor or breaking down some people’s walls via breaking bones.” I tap my wand against my chin, thinking. “There really is two- one about Midoriya, and one about Ochako’s parents.”

“Oh?”

“One, there’s been the Uraraka’s not happy about how much danger Ochako’s been in. Its been hinted at in the phone calls, but really shows up when we get to see them at home before the SF for the first time since she moved for school. They aren’t sure if she can stay there herself, or if the right thing to do would be to pull her out and maybe try a smaller school.”

“I suppose that's fair, if they haven't been able to actually see her or her progress.”

“Right. The second one is- well. in this, Izuku’s win of the first round, and then breaking out of brainwashing, is more about really piling on how good his mind is- all that brain power. This adds more pressure when we see Ochako being offered a plan from him to beat Bakugo.”

“Oh that does sound neat.”

“Yep- but of course, she still refuses. It’s held up as a worse thing, strategically, initially- but then she comes up with a plan that Midoriya confirms in the stands is better than his, and proves to her parents that she’s smart and skilled enough to handle continuing at the school.”

You smile. “That is a cool arc to do, i guess, if very not traditional. But what about all the character setup and growth with Shinsou and Todoroki?”

“Oh, Shinsou’s largely gets delegated all the way later for the joint training arc, where Ochako’s team is directly against him. Todoroki...” I begin to giggle.

You wait for me to answer, getting more concerned the longer i laugh.

“Pocket?”

“Sorry, sorry, yeah. He actually tells her himself in this canon, a bit after stain. Oh! right, i forgot- the cheerleader incident.”

“Oh no.”

“Oh yes. of course they need this merch opportunity! But yes, it happens. The... shall we say, non-body-pillow portion of the fandom, generally saw it as the end of any goodwill to Kaminari, who had previously been seen as a tertiary possible love interest, since he’d flirted with her on the first day. Flirt, but harmless, and unlikely to be important. Then there was that breach of trust and international embarrassment, and anyway he’s basically the second least likely in 1a to be shipped with her now.”

“Wow. So none of that changed?”

“Well, the setup wasn’t under narration from Todoroki about how his mother was bought for her body and how much that sucked and impacted her and the family while on screen we see multiple girls tricked into barring their bodies and its treated as a laugh instead?”

You stare at me. “I’m not sure if that’s better or worse.”

“Neither am I.”

“So, the Todoroki reveal?”

“Right. So, first you need to know the Stain thing- the claims he has against ‘false’ heroes focusing on money is better spotlighted. After Stain’s arrest, Ochako hears a couple of sidekicks at Gunhead’s agency-”

“Wait!” you interrupt. “She still interned with Gunhead? Then what was the point of showing Nejire and Ryukyuu earlier?”

I try not to massage my forehead. “To build up to it. She only made it to the first of the final round, she couldn’t get an internship with a top tenner yet. She’s also got to learn how to disarm someone who fights with a knife. These things build up over more time, small steps.”

“Ah.” You’re satisfied, and let me continue.

“Right, so, Overhears a couple of them talking about Stain’s philosophy and ends up just feeling really bad about it for a bit, trying to figure out if she’s actually being selfish or a bad hero for, you know, wanting her family to not be crushed due to capitalism.”

“Poor girl.” You shake your head in sympathy, the freeze. “Oh. did not intend that pun.”

“It’s alright, i know what you mean. And yeah, she bottles it up for a bit, until the second day back at school. Then Iida reminds her that him bottling things up last week got several kids in mortal danger, and she begrudgingly admits that he has a point and tells them about what has been bugging her.”

“And they comfort her?”

“Well, Todoroki also offers to tell off Kaminari because at this point his mention of stain upset both her and iida, but yes, A lot of reassurances.”

You squint. “I feel like shippers.”

“You’re learning! Yes, Todoroki is just a bit behind Iida in terms of popularity shipping with her. and she does basically get shipped A Lot with each girl in her class too, like imagine double to triple the amount with each girl now, and for the minor guys- but yeah. There’s a lottttt of ships. This was basically called ‘todoroki’s introduction into ochako’s harem’ in the fandom.”

Shipping. fandom just can’t escape it.

“So, then she learns about Todoroki’s past? oh, and what about Hosu? Does she- and everyone else- actually think Endeavor saved the three??”

I snort. “Oh, no. Todoroki’s flat ‘yeah my father totally helped us, as you read on the official report’ basically tipped the fandom off that something else had. But nothing confirmed either, you know? Filling in the hosu gap is another trope in fics that is pretty common.”

“Neat.”

“Yep. But yeah Todoroki tells her his backstory a bit after his introduction into her ‘harem’ of friends. It’s really played up more to caution Ochako- its alright for her to want to help her family, and to work for money to do that. But Rei accepted the marriage offer for money for her family too, and it ended up breaking her. Ochako has to accept a balance- she can work to help her family, and its good, but there are some things she cannot morally do to help them, and other things that she shouldn’t do because she has to take care of her own health first.”

“Ohhhh.” You hadn’t quite expected that, but you sorta liked it, now that you thought about it.

I smile. “It is pretty neat, yeah.” I glance at my watch. “Look, i hate to cut you off, but this post is gonna end up thrice the length of Mirio’s and i think tumblr might stop me, so we’re gonna have to do a two-parter.”

“That’s fine.” You are gracious for what you’ve gotten so far, and do have questions that you’re excited to see answered for the rest of the series. “It’s been fun.”

“It has been.” I agree. “Lets take a break, but you can ask me any questions too, before I return for part two.”

#other main characters meta series #seriously u may send questions i will try to adress in part two #but yeah wow that got long #see you in part two

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savagesbonergarage · 4 years ago

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Nightsister OC pics and backstory ❤️

So I kinda got my Nightsister oc worked out today!

Meet Eilantha!

No makeup and with makeup since I like both. :) I know her outfit is Rey’s, but it turned out to be the one I liked best after going through all of them. This was so much fun to do! I’m on mobile rn so I don’t have a link, but search ‘rinmaru star wars avatar creator’ and it should be the first result.

The nightbrother is also an oc called Sever. He’s more bulky in my head and his tattoos are different and more brown than black, but whatevs. Also he looks more like a teenager here, which is NOT the vibe, lads. Mans is in his late 20's-early 30's. 👍

I know I’m sorta biased and all since she’s mine, but I’m in love with her? I’m not a huge fan of the Nightsisters and their misandry and general terrible-ness, but this girl is the exception. 💕 Learn more about her under the cut if you’d like. :)

She was born in 46BBY, making her around 27 in the final year of the clone wars. From the time she was a youngling it was clear that she had a natural affinity for magicks and spellcasting, which allowed her to participate in more advanced rituals and rites from an early age. This inevitably caused some contention among the sisters in her age group that felt this privilege was wasted on her, and therefore she had few friends during her time within the coven. She didn’t really mind, as she preferred to spend her days on her own anyway, learning as much as she could about whatever she fancied (usually spells that piqued her interest whose texts she discreetly snuck from within the cavern).

When she wasn’t studying, she loved music - writing, playing, and singing. It wasn’t anything like the typical malicious sounds of tribal chanting and drums you’d hear from within the grotto; not that she didn’t appreciate that also as she practiced it well, but her heart leaned toward a softer, more soothing genre of arias and melodies, bordering on lullabies based on her wanderlust, and, though she’d never admit it, her loneliness.

As she reached adulthood, she underwent the trials for her dark baptism as all Sisters did, which consisted of returning from a challenging hunt to add a token from her kill to the Water Of Life, and receiving her ichor tattoos that signified her coming-of-age before being ritualistically bathed in the ominous liquid which sanctioned her as an active member of the Nightsisters.

After this, I have two different routes (or however many, depending on who I’m shipping her with at the moment 😅 bc I ship her with everyone, no lie) that I like to take with her story. The first is expanded upon in the fic by @fallenrepublick here (still my favorite thing!) where she starts sneaking away into the nightbrother village and befriends Savage and Feral before they go through Asajj’s selection trails. This is the nicer, less-traumatic arc.

This next one gets really, really dark. I'm not going to post it all here bc honestly this post doesn't need all that angst, so I'll save that for later. Essentially, I like to think that Eilantha did at one time have a nightbrother of her own (Sever) that she actually loved, rather than treated as a slave. As you can imagine it doesn't end well, but we're not gonna get into that. We'll talk about how they meet. :)

Instead of sneaking away to the village, Eilantha is pressured into conducting her own selection trails by Mother Talzin. She doesn’t inherently have any reason to object, after all, she was taught that this is was simply the way of things. Part of her even looked forward to obtaining a manservant, whose loyalty would belong to her and her alone.

Perhaps he’d be a useful asset when it came to sneaking spelltomes to and from the vaults, and maybe he’d even be the only one staying by her side while she practiced her songs. What if he’d even appreciate them? Not that he’d have much of a choice, but the thought was comforting nonetheless.

From the moment she stepped foot in the village, all she could focus on was the feeling of the uneasy and fearful gazes of the men who undoubtedly knew more of what was to come than she did. She chose her roster at random, unsure of what she should have really been looking for or what she actually wanted from a servant. Even before the fighting, she knew deep down that she didn’t want to inflict any unnecessary harm on them…but why? From what she’d overheard at home, the violence was half the fun.

It wasn’t.

She evaded and blocked every blow with ease, yet avoided retaliating and taking the offensive in any manner that would prove fatal, causing the battle to go on far longer than anticipated to the point where Brother Viscus insisted that she take the next opening for the kill. With reluctance, the blade of her weapon collided with the ribs of the next brother to reveal himself a target. She watched in horror as the light faded from his hateful, reflective eyes, and she was nearly sick. She didn’t want to do it, but it had been done, and it couldn’t be undone. His body thudded against the ground and she screamed.

“Enough!”

The battlefield went silent, and as she came to her senses she attempted to save face.

“I’ll have none of them!”

Before Brother Viscus could interject with any alternative propositions, she was gone. She ran, fleeing as far away across the rocky terrain as she could. She didn’t cry; at least not until she was certain she was alone. She felt so pathetic - Nightbrothers were meant to be disposable, yet she couldn’t handle killing one. Her shame shifted into heartbreak, and she crouched low and wept for the death of the brother she’d just caused, as well as for all those who came before him. All the needless, thankless, mindless deaths of these men whose lives may not have mattered to the Sisters, but they mattered to someone.

As night fell, she trudged along the jagged landscape and thought of what explaination she’d give to Mother Talzin upon returning home. She had run in the opposite direction of where her speeder was stationed at the base of the village, so she had plenty of time to consider on the long journey back. She casually hummed a tune to herself in some meager attempt to self-soothe, which served to distract the shadow that had been trailing her for some time. The sound of a twig snapping in the rocks behind her alerted her to the presence and she confronted him.

"Are you lost?" she asked in a derogatory tone after he revealed himself.

"I'm not."

Of course not, this was his home, after all. She couldn't say the same for herself, however, she pressed him further.

"Then why are you following me? I never asked for an escort."

The amber-skinned nightbrother looked as though he were choosing his words carefully, though if his aim was self-preservation he'd done a terrible job of it.

"I saw you crying."

Eilantha was hit with a pang of embarrassment, though she feigned otherwise as her eyes met the ground.

"Well, you can forget what you saw. Now leave me alone."

She turned away, but the brother remained there in quiet contemplation before he spoke again.

"I've never seen a Sister cry. I've never seen a Sister feel."

Something about those words struck her directly in her heart. The confirmation that she was inherently considered to be a heartless monster in the view of these villagers hurt a little more than anticipated, though she had no right to refute it. No amount of apologies would ever remedy the divide that separated the Nightsisters from the Nightbrothers, regardless of how she felt. She clenched her fist as she turned to face him again.

“I said, leave me alone. Don’t make me-”

She actually choked on her words, unable to say the rest.

Don’t make me put you in your place.

Despite her partial warning, the nightbrother stepped closer. He grabbed the edge of his already tattered tunic and tore a piece of it off, inspecting it for cleanliness before holding it out to her. Eilantha froze, uncertain of what to make of this interaction.

“You aren’t done,” he explained.

She hadn’t realized that her hot tears continued pouring down her cheeks during her retort. She accepted the cloth with some reluctance, her dainty fingers lightly brushing against his as she took it and dabbed it against her wet face. He promptly turned and started walking away, as instructed. This strange...kindness, or rather, strange act of servitude via obligation perturbed the young witch, whose thoughts were now fixated solely on the zabrak male.

“Wait, Brother,” she implored.

He paused, resuming his attention to her after hearing the endearing use of “brother” from a Sister’s lips for the first time. She continued, an unusual softness in her tone.

“What is your name?”

“It’s Sever,” he revealed, “May I ask yours, Sister?”

She repeated his name in her mind, determined never to lose it.

“Eilantha.”

He did the same, only out loud. Gods, it was an enticing sound.

"Will you be returning?"

This was a question she wasn't prepared to receive, and one that she herself didn't fully know the answer to. Her reply was engineered from a concerned sigh.

"I'm not sure. It might be problematic returning to the coven empty-handed. I may come back, I may not. I don't know what the future holds."

Sever pursed his lips slightly.

"If you do find yourself here again, will you..."

He coughed into his fist and centered himself before continuing.

"Will you consider me?"

Her eyes shot up to meet his hopeful gaze, a golden yellow in the night. She had a hunch as to what he was alluding to, but a little clarification was needed.

"Consider you...?"

He swallowed, his countenance displaying concern that perhaps he was stepping too far out-of-bounds this time, but he wanted to know all the same.

"As your mate."

Eilantha clutched the piece of fabric in her hand. This man was offering himself to her. The images of all the nightbrothers staring her down when she first arrived with fear in their faces raced through her mind, revealing the dread the men felt when they were met with her kind, and yet this one was volunteering. She wasn't sure if she should be flattered or angry, as any other Sister likely would be at a savage that dared to seek special permissions. Of course, she wasn't like that.

Imagining him as her mate, however, was certainly...something. She thought of how she would discover just how much of him was tattooed and he would learn the same of her. She could claim him right then and there if she wanted, and he would be obliged to obey. It would solve her worries about returning home if she decided on a servant after all, although, her soul was unsteady. Though she was entitled to any male she desired, she couldn't allow herself to do it. Even though this man was offering, it would weigh on her conscience knowing that even a part of him would only be with her out of fear and obligation, rather than his own free will. This nightbrother wasn't free. None of them were.

"I'll consider it," she replied genuinely.

This news seemed to please him to some extent, a tiny smirk curling at the corner of his lip.

"I'll look forward to the possibility of serving you, Sister Eilantha."

She watched as he turned a final time and disappeared further into the darkness, leaving her alone with her busied mind.

The course was set for the Nightsister temple once she finally got to her speeder, servant-less. She looked over her shoulder to see multiple pairs of glowing golden eyes quizzically prying at her in the darkness, and she smiled before taking off.

It was a long journey home, and the entire trip her mind was occupied with thoughts of the intriguing zabrak male who saw her for what she truly was. She pulled out the tattered cloth from her pocket and pressed it against her chest as the wind rushed all around her before bringing it to her lips and kissing it.

It became her greatest treasure.

That is, until she finally had the real deal in her arms months later when the separation became too much to bear, and they arranged to meet in secret during their first rendezvous of many.

Sever, my treasure.

#Nightsister #nightbrother #star wars ocs #Eilantha x Sever #savage opress #feral opress #dathomir #maul #darth maul #mother talzin #tcw #brother viscus #oc x canon

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owl-with-a-pen · 4 years ago

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(SO, Last night’s Doctor Who episode gave me some major inspiration. I decided to turn that inspiration into a quick fic that may be expanded upon ever so slightly in the future.)

SUMMARY: The Doctor has always hated endings. She shouldn’t be sad about it. She isn’t sad about it. No, instead, it gives her an idea.

After all, she isn’t bound by Time Lord laws anymore. And there’s one person she had always been meaning to save...

It’d been a long two decades.

Maybe not the longest two decades she’d ever lived, maybe not even close, but in the grand scheme of things, it had certainly felt longer than most.

All that time to think, and… what conclusions had she made?

Well, for starters, intergalactic prison food was terrible. All the nutrients required for a dozen or so assorted species packed into one solid brick of barely ingestible material. Honestly, she would have preferred to go without. But then it would’ve been harder to think. And she’d really needed to think.

Okay, what else?

Angela? Terrible neighbour. Literally the worst. Couldn’t get a wink in with her buzzing about. Plus, having Silent Bob next door had made thinking very difficult. Couldn’t focus on a single thing without it washing away the second she glanced in the wrong direction.

At least she’d been able to hold a conversation with the Ood.

Love an Ood. Even an ill-tempered one.

Doing it again, Doctor. She was missing the point. The big ol’ elephant in the room that she was getting particularly good at avoiding.

Had she seen any elephants in that prison? Bit odd. Odd as the Ood. Did they have something against elephants?

Focus.

Two decades. No closer. She was no closer to figuring out who she was, the identities that were hers and hers alone. That had been taken from her. Erased by higher forces just to keep her in check.

And it burned. Deep inside her chest, igniting both her hearts, making it difficult to breathe.

Or, maybe that was just prisons for you. Not like they made it easy for you to do anything. Although, she supposed breathing was pretty necessary to live out your sentence.

Seven thousand offences. She would’ve needed to breathe for a very long time.

She’d lost Ryan.

Lost Graham.

Her fam. Gone in an instant. Quicker than a blink, really. Faster than a Weeping…

“They’re not gone,” the Doctor said.

It was the first thing she’d said in a while. Out loud, at least. No one to talk to at the moment.

The TARDIS rumbled affectionately beneath her hand, sending a calming pulse through her fingers as she continued to fiddle with various dials.

Well, maybe that wasn’t necessarily true.

The Doctor’s lips twitched. She ran her thumb along one of the TARDIS’s nodules, grinning when it flashed an encouraging blue. “Been a while since we talked, hasn’t it mate?”

Yaz was somewhere within the TARDIS. If the Doctor had wanted, she could have opened a psychic link with her ship, noted her exact coordinates. They could’ve talked, too.

Maybe the TARDIS was prodding her to do just that. Maybe she didn’t want to be prodded.

“Okay,” the Doctor relented. “They are gone. But, just from me. That’s not too shabby, now, is it? They’re safe. Ryan and Graham. Defenders of Planet Earth.” Her smile weakened. “Maybe Jack can push ‘em in the right direction. Didn’t wanna get too involved, thought it’d be best for them to find their footing on their own. Although, maybe a couple of calls wouldn’t hurt.”

The TARDIS made a soft whirr, a clanking groan following soon after from somewhere at her centre. The Doctor’s fingers clenched across the console. “Too soon? Maybe they need space.” She blinked. “Then again, we are already half a galaxy away.”

She felt the TARDIS’s thoughts probe gently against her mind. They weren’t thoughts in the predominately biological sense of the term. It was an impression of thought, really, like warm water tickling her brains. She knew what it meant, what it always meant.

And, distantly, the TARDIS procured something recent of hers. A fresh memory, still buzzing at the surface.

It’s okay to be sad.

The Doctor shuddered. “No, mate. Don’t play that game.”

The TARDIS groaned again.

“Why?” the Doctor asked, baring her teeth. “You know why. I’m not sad. How can I be? They’re off doing their own thing. They’re happy.” The last word travelled morosely around the room, punctuated by every metal wall it bounced across.

The Doctor reached restlessly for something to fiddle with, turning a gear that offered no further progression to their journey. They weren’t positioned for time travel right then, after all. Just space. Just… exploration. Idle movement. Something to do while Yaz caught her bearings.

She needed time. Plenty of that about on a time machine, after all. She’d be okay. Just needed some human comforts. Food and sleep – both of which the TARDIS was happy to provide to her in abundance. Maybe the Doctor should have gone to her.

It’s okay to be sad.

No. No, no, she wasn’t opening that one. It was silly, really, not something worth focusing on. Besides, there was so much more she needed to think about.

“Ten months,” she murmured. “Lots can change in ten months. Ten years. Ten decades. Ten…” She stopped, her mouth falling open. “Ten,” she repeated, a little surer of herself. Her lips twitched fondly. “Haven’t thought about you in a while, have I?”

She glanced up, narrowing her eyes. That was something to focus on. Something she quite liked, actually. No, even better. This was a plan.

And a plan meant she could think.

The Doctor skirted around the TARDIS, trailing her fingers along every bump and notch until she found what she was looking for. One of the data screens, reeling information about their current location. Nothing too fancy for the moment.

The Doctor grabbed at its handle, pulling it down towards her. Her mind was beginning to whir again, that familiar clank of gears not too dissimilar from her own ship’s. She caught the flash of her own eyes in the screen’s reflection, a ghostly image with a toothy grin, ready to enact a plan. The best plan.

“Y’know,” the Doctor said, engaging with her ship once again. “I used to play it safe, always so considerate that I had these set amount of lives. It was the Time Lord way.” She reached out blindly, wrapping her hand around a familiar lever. “But, it got me thinking. I’m not a Time Lord, am I? Actually, I don’t know what I am. But… time is still the same. Same rules apply. My rules, though?”

She caught something in her reflection. A darkness settling comfortably behind the shimmer of her eyes. She looked away, staring adamantly at her console. Her TARDIS.

“Ryan and Graham are safe. But I saved… I saved someone else. A long time ago. Too long ago.” She closed her eyes, gritting her teeth. A sharp pulse shot through the Doctor’s chest, teasing her hearts with a new fire.

She could do this.

“I saved her. But, that wasn’t enough,” the Doctor continued. “I could’ve done more. Could’ve…” She sucked in a breath, shaking her head. “But I can now, can’t I, mate? ‘Cos I’m not who I thought I was. I’m more. More than any of ‘em.” She clenched her free hand, lifting it towards her chest, feeling both hearts thrill inside. “Maybe I still don’t know everything. Maybe I’ve got a lot to learn. But, one thing I do know is that I have exactly what it takes to bring her back.”

The Doctor’s hand tightened firmly around the lever, pushing it down with a rattling thud.

“I got more lives than I ever thought possible,” she murmured. When she looked up at the screen again, she no longer saw her own eyes staring back at her. Instead, a new face took up every inch of visible space. Or, should she say, an old face.

River’s eyes, both old and young at the same time, stared back at the Doctor. An abundance of densely packed curls framing her face, a crease in her eyes as she grinned out from the photograph she’d given her a good century ago, at least.

A face the Doctor hadn’t seen in so long. A face she ached to see again.

“Guess what?” the Doctor asked, bracing herself as the TARDIS shuddered into action. She grinned tightly, a power she hadn’t felt in quite some time resurfacing within her. “I’m gonna use one of them to save you.”

#doctor who #thirteen #river song #revolution of the daleks #yasmin khan #river x thirteen #river x the doctor #silence in the library #dw fanfic #doctor who fanfiction #fanfiction #lol so remember when i said i might branch out into different fandoms on here?#guess this last episode of doctor who pushed me overboard #there's a lot i want to unpack honestly so i might make this a proper ao3 story at some point #because the doctor deciding to once again hide from her feelings and instead do something both heroic #and also very reckless is totally her mo #and i really wanted to see this happen because... well... what IS stopping the doctor now?#she has literal unending regeneration energy #and considering river is part time lord.....#anyway if ya'll like this i'll definitely write more #i'll probably write more regardless lol

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anotheryoutubekid · 4 years ago

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Want William J Barnum Content?

The WAIA got me to comb through the LORE again and I outlined a short fic about William and Celine. It’ll be in four scenes, and then I want to end it with a fifth part inspired by @soot-spots wonderful drawing “Last Dance.” I might revisit the story in the future to expand on their relationship as Wilford and half of Darkiplier, but that’s just pure angst and what I’ve got so far focuses on their affair pre-WKM. It also explains why, in my “Ok so” post, I imagined that William unintentionally warped himself to the mansion’s home theater when trying to hide. Anyway, I’m not a regular fic writer, so I don’t know how to do this, but I will say that in my head this is a good starting point. I imagine Celine and William have been flirting, or having interactions that may indicate more than friendship between them, but they haven’t acknowledged it... until now.

Scene 1: Mark’s party

It was another poker night at Markiplier Manor- a riotous occasion, but Celine stood on the sidelines. As her husband and his guests laughed and played, she leaned against the wall, rotating a drink in her hand that was mostly for appearances. She had no desire to join the drunken fools at the table, but waited nearby, watching for their host to remember her existence. It took her a few minutes to realize she was being watched, too.

She pretended not to notice the man until he placed a hand on her shoulder. “Celine, don’t think no one else sees it. The way he’s been treating you.”

Without moving, she asked neutrally “And how has he been treating me?”

William stood next to her and crossed his arms, careful not to spill his martini. “Well, you know. He’s so wrapped up in his work, his success… even now he’s more concerned with entertaining his auspicious guests than his own friends and family.”

She nearly scoffed at that last word. “Perhaps. But don’t worry about it. If my own brother doesn’t care to inquire, why should you?”

He shook his head and leaned down slightly. “Damien’s actually been very worried, but didn’t know how to approach you.”

Celine turned her head sharply, as if to chastise him for challenging her. But she saw sincerity in his eyes, and a lock of hair fall into his face. She softened and reached to smooth it back into place. He quickly withdrew, tossing his head to clear his vision and scan the room for observers. “No. Not here.” he said quietly.

She stared at him intently until his eyes returned to hers.

“Then where?”

William’s brow furrowed as he tipped his head back to finish his drink. When he looked back down at her, his expression was caught between pity and disappointment. He turned and left without another word. Celine lifted her glass, inspected her nails, and drank. When she looked back at her husband, he was oblivious, a bottle in one hand and a fistful of bills in the other.

An hour later, the party was still going strong, but moved to the dance floor. The actor was no longer content to let the lady of his house be a wallflower. “Mark, no.” she commanded. “I’m tired.” Insistent, he tried to pull her with him by the sash of her dress. “Mark!” she scolded. “Let me go!” His face twisted into an impish grin. “If that’s what you want!” She realized what he meant too late, and when he released his grip hit the floor with full force.

The music didn’t stop, the other dancers didn’t stop, but William was frozen in place. He had entered the room just in time to make eye contact with her as she fell.

Her twin was immediately by her side. Her husband visibly struggled to decide what to do, the smile fading from his face. Her shoulders began to shake.

“Celine? Celine, are you alright?” Damien asked frantically. She lifted her head, and the three realized she was laughing. “I’m fine!” Without so much as a glance towards William, she whirled on the actor and threw her sash around him. “You win! Let’s dance!”

William watched for a minute, his heart racing and a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. He had hoped to politely inform his host before leaving, but the man had other things on his mind, so he slipped away unnoticed.

Standing in the foyer, he could still hear the music, and imagined he could still hear the couple’s laughter. Was she truly having fun? No, he thought, she saw me. She’s trying to make me jealous again. And it’s working.

“Leaving without this, sir?” William startled at the butler’s words, and regarded the outstretched coat as if he’d never seen it before. “Yes, right. I best be on my way.” Then an idea brought a twinkle to his eye, and he backed away.

“I don’t know whose that is, but I’m sure you’ll find them.”

The butler looked confused. “I assure you-”

“You’re doing a real bang-up job!” William called back as he slammed the door behind him.

#markiplier #markiplier tag 2 #wilford warfstache #william j barnum #wkm colonel #wkm celine #celine the seer #william x celine #wkm #wmw #damien #waia

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cyn-00 · 5 years ago

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Moreid one shot, 22 - "strings"

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

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

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

Read it on AO3

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Spencer smiled now. "Me too."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hmm ?" the dopey man hummed in response.

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

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

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

Spencer frowned. "Uhm, yes ?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

Derek nodded and complied. "Lame excuse."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Reid looked down at his wrinkly finger pads.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Spencer's pupils fidgeted around in thought.

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

Derek stood up for real now, fetching said ointment.

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

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

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

"Better?" the man asked.

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

When that happened, he said: "Definitely."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"-encer? Baby you good in there?"

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

"Hey, kid, c'mon now,"

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

"Spencer seriously, talk to me ?"

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

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

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

He shook his head and gaped for a few seconds.

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

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

"Sorry."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah." he simply confirmed.

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

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

But then it hit him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The genius' scowling glance shot up.

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

Morgan sighed, tilting his head. "Spencer-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So he nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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