#i wish i could just be the perfect fucking robot that comforts and feels nothing and says all the right shit and doesnt cry about it

[nullnobodynothing]

for the record i fucking guess heres how shit just went:

1. said i looked sad. told him a little bit of how hard the past while has been and about the dissociative episode i had the other day felt and how much amnesia and how badly ive been doing since

2. asked if he could tell me something and talked about how scared he was about me cutting, his fears about me being out of control and that im going to die and hes going to find me

3. i clarified my experience in an attempt to alleviate his fears and tried to reassure him

4. he seemed to feel a little better, was going through the laundry found a shirt with blood on it i tried to hide and became very upset again. said somewhere in there (i think he asked? i think i was crying?) that im upset that im hurting him because im hurting. he said thats why he didnt want to talk about what hes thinking (i had asked what he was thinking and he had said still the bloody shirt and thats why he was having a hard time). like because i was upset that he was sad and scared because of me. (commentary; the shit i fucking go through trying not to KILL MYSELF)

5. ended up saying hes glad we talked about it and that he would be thinking about it (the self harm) anyway so not to feel guilty for bringing it up (i dont think i did?) because he wanted to talk about it anyway

6. somehow after that ended up talking about how hopeless he feels and his future is like a black hole and nothing brings him joy anymore. im jusy trying to fucking hold it together at this point.

7. i dont remember what else after that a bunch of shit where im just laying there wanting to leave and hes clinging to me going back and forth between being chatty and fine and crying about. stuff i wish i could remember. at the end a lot of me telling him i want him to be able to relax and feel satisfied with the time i spend with him and not talk about all this catastrophic shit when he has to wake up early for work and is trying to wind down

[vashsmunch]

I'll be here.

Vash x GN! Reader

Synopsis: you're spiralling, and someone comes to help

Warnings: mentions of self-destructive thoughts, allude to suicidal ideations

A/N: third one i've made of these self-indulgent comfort shit LMAO, but don't judge me.

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───  

Suffocating. Stifling. Drowning. 

Your hand flexed, fingers curling in on themselves to try and distract from the feeling of your chest concaving. 

In and out. In and out. 

Rhymathtically and almost robotically, in hopes that it would quell the darkness approaching you. Everything it touched withered away like death itself had grazed them with its bony claws. It was terrifying, at least it should've been. You couldn't help but feel like, at this moment, "death" wouldn't be so bad after all. A graceful ending to the turbulent turmoil that was the hell you were living in. Even purgatory would've been more desirable. 

God, it hurt. It was the type of pain that settled deep into the crevices of your soul, the kind that lay in wait for the day you just gave up. It's a quiet predator, one that doesn't care how long it takes. Patient, deadly, and counting the seconds until your eventual demise. You couldn't even find it in yourself to give a single fuck. 

There comes a point where the pain, the agony, just becomes routine. It becomes as regular as waking up to scroll on your phone, as simple as brushing your teeth. It doesn't hurt as badly as it did before, but you can't help but feel that you'll die with it clutching on for dear life. Maybe you deserved this. Things like this only happen to bad people, right? What are you, if not the most horrible person to ever exist, if this is the kind of pain you were experiencing? 

"Hey... Hello?"

Suddenly, you couldn't breathe. The darkness was closing in, and it was draining every single breath of air out of your lungs. Tears started to build up in your eyes and stream down your cheeks as you shook in fear. It wasn't fair. You were just trying your best. Why does this happen? Why does this always happen? Was your best not good enough? How much longer would you be forced to cycle through this barbaric game the universe decided to play with you?

"Look at me... Please look at me."

You shut your eyes and let out quiet sobs as you felt a shadow overtake your body. It was getting tougher for you to tell what was real, and you couldn't even feel the sharp sting of pain from digging your nails into the flesh of your palm. 

Someone... please. Save me. I can't... I can't keep doing this. It hurts. This hurts.

PLEASE. SOMEONE PLEASE.

A calloused hand wraps around yours, squeezing gently. An instant burst of heat radiates throughout your arm, warming every cold crack that had been seared into the skin.

"Hey."

You look up to see cerulean irises boring into yours, accompanied by a tense expression on the person's face. 

Vash.

The two of you stared at each other as the salty streams continued to pour down your face. You couldn't be bothered to wipe them, to hell with your decency. It was funny, though, with him, you never felt the need to be anything more. Maybe that was a bit selfish because, with you, he was nothing short of perfect. A bumbling idiot who always did his best to comfort you even when his own demons were clawing at his back. But who was the idiot now? The one who said nothing as he took you into his arms, or the one who clutched at his jacket, crying until there was nothing left? You felt him rub your back as he whispered into your ear, and you couldn't even decipher the words. It just felt so good. 

There weren't any words exchanged for a while; whether it was minutes or hours, you couldn't tell. Vash silently picked you up to cradle you in his lap, nuzzling his head into your neck. Slowly, the darkness started to fade away and unsink its claws from the flesh of your shaking body. He seemed to get impossibly closer as you melted into his touch, just craving some feeling of stability. How you wished you could have this all the time, just this comfortable silence. 

"I love you."

You didn't flinch, and one would think you hadn't heard him if it weren't for the way you held him tighter. Because with him, it was never too much or too over the top. Everything always felt right, and that's something you'd treasure for as long as you could. It was Vash the Stampede, after all.

"I love you too."

[banana-milk-enthusiast]

beat Forspoken, and while I probably will write an in-depth review down the line cuz i have many thoughts, I'm just going to pointform my basic thoughts while it's still fresh.

PROS

Great designs all around, the Tantas look so breathtaking with their extravagant designs and yet it doesn't take away from their world, it fits just right in. Absolutely love it.

Good world building most questions i had were answered either through the main story or extra archive stuff. Nothing felt too weird yknow

Gameplay gameplay gameplay. The magic system is literally amazing. I dont think I've had this much fun fighting in an rpg in a long time. Theres so much fun variety so you can focus on whats comfortable for you while also looking sick as fuck. Have i mentioned how good the battle system is cuz i avoid playing mage in every game because its such a slog but here its so fast paced and hits hard. Perfect for me.

The music is soooo good, I love the main theme and find myself humming it literally all the time.

Great graphics but maybe a lil too many particle effects but otherwise really pretty.

The story is technically a pro. Like its good, not bad, not great, just good. Basically something you'd find in the YA Fantasy section, thats the kinda quality it was. Which isn't a insult I did enjoy the story and characters. It just needed polish, fix up the dialogue and trim some of the story fat and i wouldn't have any complaints tbh. Probably would do better as a book series tho ngl, not sure what game format would have saved it.

Shoutout to the accessibility options. I'm glad more games are including these. I'll never understand complaints about them though, like just dont use them if you dont want/need to thats it.

ALMOST FORGOT THE COOLEST THING. THE NAILS. I'm sorry but the idea of using nail art to inscribe magic runes to give you buffs is the coolest fucking idea ever, why has this concept not been used till now. We always see rune tatoos or written on gear and stuff im fantasy media but this is such a neat ideaaaa and im forever thankful for it. Her capes are cool too I guess, with there was more variety rather than recolors tho. Kinda wish we could also get different outfits for her tho. Those jeans probably chafe.

CONS

THE OPEN WORLD IS SO BIG FOR NO GODDAMN REASON. I honestly wish this wasn't an open world game tbh, its so unnecessary. Halfway through the game, i got so frustrated and ignored everything that wasn't story points cuz getting everywhere takes so damn long, especially early on when you dont have fancy parkour or stamina. Easily its biggest fault for me.

I understand they thought it'd do way better than what happened but planning out a story as a trilogy in the gaming industry is not a smart move. I've yet to play the dlc so idk if we get closure but the loose ends werent a great way for the game to end.

Oh, the dialogue. Its easily one of the gamest weakest points. Like the type of dialogue i was writing in my original stories when i was 13 (not that ive gotten any better tbh). Basically, it's not what you expect from such a vaunted company. Frey is great when shes excited or angry, which is most of the time, but occasionally, they'll hit me with the cheesiest line I've heard in years, and idk how to handle it. Like the stuff she says in the final chapter is honestly so robotic, there is no natural flow present. Which is a pity cuz the actress was killing it tbh, like she definitely carried the lines with her emotion. Unfortunately, it couldn't save them. Like if it was something they dropped on ps3 or wii, it honestly would have done fine. What i mean to say is the dialogue is very outdated in this age of gaming. im actually surprised how out of touch it feels. Especially since otherwise its a solid game all around. Regarding Cuff and Frey banter you do have the option to make it less frequent or just turn it off but i never really found them annoying regardless.

Maybe its just me but the control scheme feels so weird, the games makes you feel like you should be gliding most of the time but holding O while spaming all those trigger buttons feels so awkward to me. But then again I also didnt care enough to change the control scheme so.

[hakasims]

The Most Important Review of Every Single Marwan Kenzari Film

If you’ve seen this one about Luca, you know the drill.

Now, Marwan’s brand is a little less defined than Luca’s but I managed to find similar tropes in a lot of his films. Also, rather than copy myself and give you a redundant Marwanmeter, I decided instead to recommend which Luca character best pairs with each Marwan character for your crossover pleasure. Let’s see if we ship the same things! Some of them are crack. You’re welcome.

(all gifs again by the awesomely amazing @weardes​ who did not ask to be my gif factory but life’s a bitch)

Het zusje van Katia (2008)

Will you miss him if you blink? Kinda. They talk about him a lot but his actual screen time is like 43.7 seconds. Also can I just say... he’s supposed to be from Italy?? The boy says literally one (1) Italian word, and you’ll never guess what it is. (Obviously, it’s “bella” like there’s a chance he could’ve said anything else.)

Is he hot? Painfully hot.

Is he naked? There’s this one scene where he’s wearing the sluttiest pair of speedos I’ve ever seen in my entire life.

Does his hair look great? Actually, yes. Perfect hair, perfect beard, he looks amazing.

Does he fuck? Yes, a lot - off screen, including an M/M/F threesome he presumably, probably, most definitely initiated.

Best paired with? From what I’ve gathered, this hoe ain’t loyal, so the best course of action is to find him a Luca that would benefit from a one night stand with no strings attached and wouldn’t fall in love with him. The obvious choice here is Valerio from Slam - Tutto per una ragazza. They meet, they fuck, then Giac makes his 4-hour drive back to Pisa, and they don’t see each other again until the next time he’s in Rome. Everybody’s happy, especially the two sluts in question.

De laatste dagen van Emma Blank (2009)

Will you miss him if you blink? Yes, absolutely.

Is he hot? Very.

Is he naked? Almost constantly.

Does his hair look great? He’s got those cute short curls, he looks so good.

Does he fuck? That’s literally why he’s there: to fuck and to die.

Best paired with? Man, I wish I had something to work with here. The only thing we know about him besides his sexual prowess is his affinity for white suits and toy helicopters. And as far as I know, those might be the exact things Fabrizio from Nina finds hot in guys. So like, why not?

Loft (2010)

Will you miss him if you blink? He’s the fifth most important character.

Is he hot? Yeah, sure.

Is he naked? There’s a scene where he’s wearing underwear and a tank top but it somehow makes him look like a kindergartener.

Does his hair look great? It looks quite nice.

Does he fuck? Yes, though I wish he didn’t.

Best paired with? Tom is a very violent person and a drug addict. He does messed up stuff to his sexual partners I’d rather he didn’t do to any of Luca’s characters. Feel free to use him for your sadistic fantasies or as a villain or whatever.

Rabat (2011)

Will you miss him if you blink? No, he’s one of the three leads.

Is he hot? Oh yes! And cute!

Is he naked? He’s at the beach wearing nothing but boxer shorts.

Does his hair look great? He’s got this extreme undercut thing that would look ridiculous on anyone less pretty, so like no, he doesn’t have great hair, but also like it’s Marwan, you know what I mean?

Does he fuck? Before he embarks on a road trip with his friends, he has an offscreen threesome with two girls he picked up at a wedding. Slut.

Best paired with? Gabriele from Waves. They’re both sweet guys who could meet in some Tunisian port and decide to sail the Mediterranean Sea together.

Black Out (2012)

Will you miss him if you blink? Not unless your blinking is very deliberate.

Is he hot? Not really. He’s a dirty cop with a shitty moustache and oral fixation.

Is he naked? No, but I wish he was: his clothes are awful. Marwan is 29 in this movie and he looks 50!

Does his hair look great? Nope. They took Marwan’s usual short hair and made it not work somehow.

Does he fuck? No.

Best paired with? The one thing Luca’s characters all have in common is that none of them come off as bootlickers. All of them are either too soft for such a relationship or wouldn’t waste their spit on a cop.

Wolf (2013)

Will you miss him if you blink? No, he’s the protagonist.

Is he hot? *gestures wildly at the gif*

Is he naked? He’s got quite a few shirtless scenes.

Does his hair look great? It’s nothing special but suits his character well.

Does he fuck? Oh yes.

Best paired with? Hear me out. I know that some people ship him with Fabio, but in my opinion that pair, while hot, doesn’t work. Here’s my pitch: Cesare from Non essere cattivo. The drug connection is still there, but in this case Majid’s problem-solving skills won’t fall on deaf ears. Cesare needs a daddy, ok? Majid can be a daddy when he needs to, especially when he has a soft boyfriend to care for. And Majid needs soft, not psycho.

Hartenstraat (2014)

Will you miss him if you blink? No, he’s the protagonist once again.

Is he hot? Painfully.

Is he naked? There’s that iconic scene where he’s wearing nothing but black boxer briefs and boots while carrying a tray...

Does his hair look great? He’s got Joe-like curls and looks like what every male romantic lead should aspire to look like and then cry because they all fail.

Does he fuck? There’s one very unfortunate sex scene played for laughs. I’m pretty sure he’ll need therapy afterwards. I certainly do.

Best paired with? Paolo from Il padre d’Italia. Paolo deserves the best boyfriend, and who’s better than Daan, an extremely hot man who cooks? They both have daughters, so they can talk about that, I guess, and Paolo can finally have a family. Honestly, this is so wholesome I just made myself cry.

Lucia de B. (2014)

Will you miss him if you blink? For sure.

Is he hot? He’s a cop. Again. But he looks good.

Is he naked? Fully dressed, but man are his clothes ugly. Is that a cop thing?

Does his hair look great? He has slightly longer curls, which is fine and the best thing about this character.

Does he fuck? ACAB. (I know this doesn’t answer the question, I just wanted to make it clear.)

Best paired with? See my bootlicker comment from earlier. While Detective *checks notes* Ron Leeflang isn’t explicitly corrupt, he’s obviously a dick, so the best I can do here is recommend any Luca character that has ever been in trouble with the law for any fics about power imbalance you want to write but aren’t comfortable with a nice Marwan playing the villain.

Bloedlink (2014)

Will you miss him if you blink? Oh no, he’s there the entire time.

Is he hot? In a weird way, yes.

Is he naked? So, so, so naked. Like, leave nothing to the imagination naked.

Does his hair look great? I’d say that little rat tail is the exact opposite of great.

Does he fuck? Probably more than is good for him. I should also add that he’s canonically queer in this.

Best paired with? Rico is a pathetic loser in need of someone who’s got his life together and has a lot of experience dealing with fuckups. Enter Loris from Il mondo fino in fondo. He has a stable job and a savior complex, and with his little bro gaying it up in Chile and not needing him anymore, all he wants right now is someone to fix. I should be a fucking matchmaker in real life, for real.

Pak van mijn hart (2014)

Will you miss him if you blink? Undoubtedly.

Is he hot? No. The whole point of his character is to be the lesser choice compared to a guy who looks like a completely ordinary bland white dude...

Is he naked? ...so of course he isn’t naked! What, are they gonna take this poor woman, show her Marwan Kenzari’s post-Wolf body and expect her to choose her deeply mediocre ex? Please! They’re gonna dress him in the dorkiest clothes possible...

Does his hair look great? ...and make him wear the most awful wig that was clearly run over by a truck.

Does he fuck? No. As you can observe, they tried really hard to make him unfuckable, but honestly, he seems like a perfectly nice guy.

Best paired with? You know what? Mattia from La solitudine dei numeri primi is in desperate need of some sweetness and normalcy. I’m sure Richard will treat him with kindness and respect.

Collide (2016)

Will you miss him if you blink? He’s the fifth most important character. Out of five.

Is he hot? Very hot.

Is he naked? Not for a second! What’s up with American movies where people aren’t just casually walking around naked without any plot necessity???

Does his hair look great? His curls are so cute you guys! Look at them!

Does he fuck? Not explicitly.

Best paired with? Fabio from Lo chiamavano Jeeg Robot. Again, the drug connection is there, but Matthias is soft enough not to butt heads with Fabio and, by the end of the movie, rich enough to satisfy his cravings for good living and fame. Also look at how good their color coordination is with those dark wine red clothes! Sometimes planets just align, okay?

Ben-Hur (2016)

Will you miss him if you blink? Yes, especially if you aren’t watching the background.

Is he hot? Your usual Marwan hot.

Is he naked? No.

Does his hair look great? His typical short curls with a twist. I think the forehead area is supposed to invoke the Caesar cut? I don’t know. It looks fine when not hidden under that dumb helmet.

Does he fuck? No.

Best paired with? A better script and a much better director. (Seriously, what is this blocking?)

The Promise (2016)

Will you miss him if you blink? He’s there a decent amount in the first half of the movie and then almost completely disappears in the second half.

Is he hot? Very much, yes.

Is he naked? Unfortunately, no.

Does his hair look great? He’s got short curls again, but this time they’re fashionably styled, it’s magnificent.

Does he fuck? Oh yeah! And there’s no way he isn’t bi or pan in this. No way.

Best paired with? Roberta from L’ultimo terrestre. Listen, Emre Ogan may be a slut but he’s a gentleman, okay? He’d treat Roberta right and he’s got daddy’s cash to spare on hundreds of gorgeous white dresses for her.

The Mummy (2017)

Will you miss him if you blink? He’s there, but barely.

Is he hot? Dangerously hot.

Is he naked? Not once! Instead we get a naked Tom Cruise literally no one asked for.

Does his hair look great? It’s your basic professional short hairdo.

Does he fuck? No.

Best paired with? Malik is a member of an organization tracking and destroying various monsters and historical artefacts related to them. Guido from Tutti i santi giorni speaks four languages, including Latin, and is a literature and ancient history nerd which makes him a valuable asset. Malik can fight and protect; Guido is bumbling and in need of saving. Guys, this writes itself.

What Happened to Monday (2017)

Will you miss him if you blink? No, especially not in the third act.

Is he hot? He’s okay.

Is he naked? Very naked.

Does his hair look great? They shouldn’t have greased his curls back. He looks like another victim of Fabio Cannizzaro’s stylist. Also I wish he’d either shaved or finished growing out that beard.

Does he fuck? He fucks and he fucks good. He’ll go down on you, he’ll deflower you slowly and gently, he’ll choke you if you want him to, he’ll spoon you all night, he’ll give you emotional support, he’ll murder people for you - he’s down for whatever.

Best paired with? There’s one Luca character who needs a lot of sex and even more emotional support. Alright, most of them do, but I’m thinking of Ettore from Lasciate andare. He needs it, okay? Good dicking, good spooning, a good ear, a fine piece of ass to cry into - you get the gist. Most importantly: someone who’d love him for who he is and with whom he could relax and be himself. (Also, I see you, people comparing him to Fabio. Shame on you for sleeping on this soft boy and judging him based on his appearance.)

Murder on the Orient Express (2017)

Will you miss him if you blink? He’s kinda always present, being very French.

Is he hot? Very hot.

Is he naked? No, but I’m willing to forgive that because he looks so good in his conductor uniform.

Does his hair look great? He never takes off his hat.

Does he fuck? No.

Best paired with? Mickey Miranda. They’re both murderers morally dubious characters who would look hot together. What else do you need? (Again, I see you, people who want Pierre for Roberta because he’s a “nice guy”, and I know for a fact you didn’t watch the movie. Spoilers, I guess.)

The Angel (2018)

Will you miss him if you blink? No, he’s the protagonist.

Is he hot? Oh yes.

Is he naked? Not once, but you won’t regret it because he’s wearing excellently stylish 1970s clothes.

Does his hair look great? It looks fantastic. The sideburns (not yet seen here) are a good touch.

Does he fuck? He can definitely get it, but he’s loyal to his wife.

Best paired with? As the most aesthetically coherent and fashionably hot pair in this post, Ashraf and Primo are a no-brainer. Can you imagine Primo calling him “Angel” in different contexts? When he’s being intimidating, not realizing how palpable the sexual tension between them is, and later not even hiding his arousal? Sometimes things just work because they’re hot. That’s all, folks.

Aladdin (2019)

Will you miss him if you blink? No, he’s the main villain.

Is he hot? It’s not like he went viral for being the “hot Jafar” or anything.

Is he naked? No! Fucking thanks a lot, Disney.

Does his hair look great? He has a buzz cut under that turban but he looks good in the turban, so that’s something.

Does he fuck? It’s a Disney movie, so he doesn’t fuck - explicitly or otherwise - but he still comes off as a thirsty bitch.

Best paired with? Jafar ends the movie as a genie who’s obligated to grant his master three wishes but is enough of a petty bitch to exploit the hell out of the “gray area” and screw them over Wishmaster style. My unconventional pair for him is Lui from Ricordi? So many scenarios with distorted memories and magic-induced mindfuck. So many possibilities for awesome and messed up crossover gifsets! Don’t say I never give you guys anything.

Instinct (2019)

Will you miss him if you blink? No, he’s very prominent.

Is he hot? I hate myself for finding him hot but I do.

Is he naked? He’s playing basketball shirtless in one scene, shaking his sweaty boobs everywhere.

Does his hair look great? His weird mohawk-like thing is honestly terrible, but if anything can make it work, it’s Marwan’s bone structure.

Does he fuck? Um, I’m pleading the Fifth on this one for the sake of good taste.

Best paired with? Prison. A very lonely, Luca-less prison.

The Old Guard (2020)

Will you miss him if you blink? No, unless blinking in your case means sleeping through the gloriousness that is the first ever canonically gay couple in an American action film.

Is he hot? Painfully.

Is he naked? Shirtless in one scene.

Does his hair look great? Soft curls courtesy of Luca Marinelli’s tireless lobbying.

Does he fuck? Not on screen, but you can just tell by the way he looks at his husband and reads impromptu poetry right to his face. And everybody knows nothing kindles the fires of passion quite like murdering homophobes together.

Best paired with? If you have to ask, you’re clearly reading this by mistake. In which case, kudos for finishing such a long and confusing post, now go watch The Old Guard and cry at the beauty that is The Immortal Marriage.

[sunshineseung]

Little Secret // Changbin

🍄 | genre: smut mini-series  ☁️ | pairing: Seo Changbin x female!reader 🌿 | wc: 2k 🌸 | includes: plot *yawn*, masturbation, fear of being caught, actually being caught, most of the hot and heavy stuff happens in the other parts lmao

☀️ | synopsis: Seo Changbin is your brother’s best friend. He comes over all the time, and you practically grew up together. If only you hadn’t gotten a crush on him. If only he knew how hard you had fallen for him.

🌊 | Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Finale |

You and your brother had never been as close as your parents had hoped. Jisung was always loud and obnoxious, making friends everywhere he went and never looking back. You were much more comfortable by yourself, spending night after night alone while Jisung was out partying. Your shelf was full of books and fandom memorabilia while your brother’s shelf was covered in dust and toy robots from his youth he refused to get rid of. His GTA V poster covered the wall next to his bed while the only decoration in your room was the fairy lights and fake vines around the perimeter of your walls. These fundamental differences pushed you away from your brother, and after several years, you turned more into a punchline for Jisung to discussed jokingly with his friends while he was just the annoying older brother you’d wished would move out.

As much as you wanted to leave home and go to a prestigious college, your parents insisted you go to the same local college as Jisung for at least a year “just to try it out,” a.k.a they didn’t have enough money to send you away, which was reasonable. You and your brother, still under the same roof, fought to no end over the smallest things: loud music, messy bathroom, eating each other’s leftovers. Just about anything was fair game when the light-hearted hatred was so tense.

There was one bright side, though. Since Jisung entered Kindergarten, he was close to a boy named Changbin. You grew up with Changbin at your house, and even when your family moved 20 minutes away from him, he would always be there. There was nothing separating Jisung and Changbin. 

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t have the slightest crush on Changbin. While Jisung was only one year older than you, Changbin was two years older, and that initially intimidated you. His intimidating and off putting nature is what drew you in, but his glowing smile and gorgeous face only made you fall harder. You couldn’t explain your feelings for Changbin when you were in middle school, and even now, it was hard to describe the overwhelming nervousness that overcomes you when you’re in his vicinity. As high school went on, you knew you couldn’t be with him, but while you had your head in books throughout high school, Changbin was going to his college’s gym. His smile was one thing, and that was good for a middle school crush, but his insane arm and chest muscles send you through the moon in high school, and the image of Changbin shirtless at your neighborhood pool has been etched in your brain since your junior year of high school.

But now you’re in college. You’re a greasy little freshman while Changbin is a worn-out junior. There’s no way in hell you can shoot your shot, even if you’re both adults. And to make things even more impossible, Jisung would never allow his best friend to date his little sister. That would ruin him.

As improbable as it was, you still loved to fantasize about Changbin, spending most of your time alone daydreaming about his sculpted body above yours, praising you and making you feel like the only girl in the world.

🍓🍰🐤🍀💐🍯

“Sis, could you put on some actual clothes, jeez.” Jisung covered his eyes dramatically as you entered the kitchen in your very appropriate shorts and tee shirt. You rolled your eyes and scoffed at him, punching him in the shoulder lightly. 

“Changbin’s been coming over for how long? It’s fine.” Your response sounded steady, but your mind was buzzing. You didn’t know Changbin was coming over! Why are you never told about these things?! At this point, you should have assumed given it was a Friday night, but you’d still like some warning. 

“Just because he’s used to it doesn’t mean he should be subjected to it!” Jisung went into the living room, arguing with you under his breath. Another stupid mini-fight for a stupid reason. 

If anything, the information that Changbin was coming over would have only prompted you further to wear shorts and a thin tee shirt with no bra. As shy as you usually were, you still had the inexplicable want to be noticed by Changbin, even for a moment. Unfortunately, your brother adamantly tried to hide you from his friend, probably knowing Changbin always gets what he wants.

Jisung always babied you infront of Changbin, so you usually just stay in your room to protect yourself, and you’re sure Jisung would prefer that. Your parents worked late nights attempting to pay for their children’s college tuition, so when they came home well after midnight, they’d go straight to bed, uncaring for their adult children’s wearabouts. This gave Jisung the perfect opportunity to be as loud as he wanted in the living room, whether it was with a girl or one of his friends. 

Tonight was going to be one of those loud nights, but that was nothing new. You always had a surefire way to fall asleep, regardless of the chatter going on downstairs.

🍓🍰🐤🍀💐🍯

It was midnight. Why was he still here? You wanted to sleep more than anything, but the ruckus of your brother and his best friend chatting loudly downstairs prevented you from getting any sort of shuteye. 

However, the only thing that can help you sleep is Changbin, or at least the thought of him. You reached to your bedside drawer and pulled out your bullet vibrator. If anything was going to help you sleep, it was an orgasm while imagining Changbin railing you like you’ve always wanted him to do since high school.

Although you hated to admit it, your thoughts of Changbin had been drifting towards the smuttier side since those days at the pool. All you could think about to get yourself off was Changbin, and no amount of other casual romantic partners could satiate your burning desire for Seo Changbin to fuck you on every surface in the house, including in your brother’s room while he was away. Every time you’d overhear Changbin talking about a new girl or his plentiful sex life, your face would flush red and you would wish that one day, he’d talk about you, but maybe not to Jisung. That would be too weird. 

You undressed lazily, tossing your shirt and shorts onto the ground. You hesitated to take your underwear off, but there was no way you could properly get off with them on. Your panties joined the pile of clothes on the floor, and you spread your legs, tracing your fingers through your own heat, spreading your wetness across your holds. Your free hand eases the cold vibrator onto your clit, pressing the button at the top to turn it on. You bucked your hips into the toy, shutting your eyes and pretending that it’s Changbin holding it onto you, teasing you gently with every movement. His voice from downstairs echoed to your room, and the more you imagined his voice whispering the dirtiest sweet nothings into your ear, the closer you got to release.

🍓🍰🐤🍀💐🍯

This was just supposed to be a fun little game of truth or dare, a common occurrence between Changbin and Jisung. Truth or dare was their way to let their feelings out and have a bit of fun. Before suggesting a movie, Jisung offered his friend one last truth or dare.

“Dare.” Changbin crosses his arms, waiting for Jisung to respond to his response. 

After a moment, Jisung’s face contorted into a smile like that of the Grinch before he stole Christmas. Changbin knew nothing good could come from that expression, but nevertheless, he was interested in what awful, terrible, no good idea his friend had come up with. 

“I dare you to go upstairs and scare my sister.”

“That’s it?” Changbin was beyond confused. He’d thought Jisung had come up with a dare so evil, so vile, so wicked, that only the devil himself could come up with it, but to be fair, Jisung could easily have been more sinful than the devil. 

“That’s it!” Jisung clapped his hands together in seeming victory. “Sneak up those stairs, go to the second room on the right, barge in, and give my good little sister a good little scare.” Jisung wasn’t letting go of his smirk. He still looked sinister, even after explaining such a boring, and honestly disappointing, dare. Changbin sighed, shrugged, and stood up from his seat, but before he could turn around, Jisung had one last thing to say: “Don’t take too long up there! I want to finish this movie.”

Changbin rolled his eyes and trudged on, tip-toeing up the stairs so you didn’t even hear him coming. Jisung was vibrating with giddiness, but Changbin couldn’t see. All he saw was the door to your room, looking more menacing than ever before. It’s such a lighthearted prank, why was Changbin so scared now? He reached for the doorknob, turned it quietly, and pushed the door open as fast as possible. 

His first scream was that of a shitty jump scare in a horror movie, but his second scream was that of terror with a high-pitched tone. Nothing could have prepared him to see you, his best friend’s sister, a freshman at the college he was a junior in, with a vibrator pressed against your nether region. You were totally naked aside from your shirt that was pushed up over your tits. The sight made his body go pale, and he felt his soul leave his body. He didn’t run away; he was just frozen, but you hardly would have noticed him if it hadn’t been for his stereotypically girly scream. You threw your duvet over yourself, wrapping yourself up like a burrito. 

“What the fuck, Changbin?” You raised your voice slightly, hardly able to yell since your voice was hoarse from the orgasm you’d just been denied by the rude interruption. Changbin couldn’t speak. He couldn’t even think, let alone defend himself. He stood in your doorway, eyes blown out, hand practically glued to the door handle. Jisung’s manic laughing can be heard from downstairs, but both your mind and Changbin’s were too fuzzy to tune in, although your minds were fuzzy for differing reasons.

Changbin let go of the handle and shut the door behind him. You squirm under your blanket burrito, adjusting yourself and getting ready for an attack from Changbin, but he doesn’t come near you. His back hits the door, and he holds his chest where his heart is. Once he calms down for a moment, he’s finally ready to speak.

“Y/n, I’m so sorry.” He takes a step towards you, but you lean back, scared of what he’s going to do to you. “Jisung dared me to scare you, and I- I didn’t know you were up here… doing that. I-”

“Changbin,” you cut him off, “just get out.” 

He doesn’t move. He collects his thoughts one last time and takes another step closer to your bed. “Did you finish?”

“Changbin!” Your vocal cords had healed since being hoarse just seconds ago, and you were finally able to fully raise your voice.

“I’m gonna go back downstairs, but when that movie’s over, text me.” Fuck, you forgot you had his number. “I want to make it up to you.” 

You’re beyond hesitant, but after a minute, you nod, and Changbin leaves your room without a word. 

🍓🍰🐤🍀💐🍯

An hour passes, and you reach over to your nightstand and grab your phone. Your messenger app stays open on the window with the empty text screen under Changbin’s contact. Ow, this is hurting your brain to think about. How could you ever get over yourself for fucking your brother’s friend, let alone the friend that’s watched you grow up. This was a mistake. Turn back now. Don’t text him, don’t text him, don’t text him.

Fuck it.

Your fingers fluttered over the screen, repeatedly typing and deleting the same message until it was perfect.

Is the movie over?

The ellipsis text bubble appears in the corner and your heart drops. You know your face is bright red, but you can’t help be excited while simultaneously feeling terrified.

The movie ended 10 minutes ago. You ready for me, princess?

No no no no no no no no

Ready when you are ;)

Oh my god oh my god oh my god

Come out to my car. I want to take you to my apartment so your brother can’t hear us.

No turning back now.

[malereader-inserts]

The Night We Met

Fandom: Riverdale Pairing: Jughead Jones x Male!Reader Summary: There’s too much pain in his heart, he really wish it will go away soon. Word Count: 1,575 Request:  I. Need. ANGST! (Please feed me some angst 🥺) Warning: Suicide, depression A/n: I would love more angst prompts.

Riverdale is a small place, it’s a town where everyone knows everyone. 

Death is common, it’s heartbreaking, but somehow it’s always more saddening when it’s a young person, just because they had so much life to experience. Riverdale is a quiet town, really, but it was only loud because of one young lad. 

Jughead Jones was very fond of this person.

You weren’t too bright that people hated to look your way, you were too good for this world. But, you were real. There wasn’t negativity in your body other than your outlook in life, you were so kind that the elderly always see you and offering your time to help them. You would help struggling students with subjects, you were an inspiration to Jughead’s side project - to tell the perfect story of you. 

See, you were a soft boy. The boy who wore round glasses, oversized sweaters and baggy jeans. Sometimes, you would wear your overalls with your long shirt underneath and converse to match. You weren’t afraid to express yourself, you were too good for this world because nothing should harm you.

So, how can this happy boy kill himself?

The town mourns because this shouldn’t have happened in the first place.

The kid, you, you were supposed to go - be free. You were supposed to leave Riverdale, make it big in the big city. Make friends, make a family, expand your horizons. 

You’re just a boy.

It hurts so much, to think, to feel. 

Jughead hated it, your story was supposed to be making it far and yet it was ending abruptly. Jughead remembers the night you met him, it was just you and him in Pop’s diner. The neon lights illuminating your face, Jughead cannot help but feel threatened by your looks.

You sat across him, sipping a cold beverage. One leg up on the booth and your arms leaning against your knee. Jughead remembers vividly the rings you hand on your fingers, the chains around your neck - the dull brown striped sweater that seems to contrast the white collar from a shirt under it. 

You two seem to hit it off that night, you were laughing at each other’s jokes, the occasional flirty remark, exchanging numbers and kept “running into each other at pop’s late at night when it’s just you and him.

“I want to write a book about you, (Y/n),” Jughead says, as you looked at him curiously, “You’re interesting.”

“Far from it, Jughead.”

He stood by your side most of the time, somehow you two formed a relationship - it was so unlikely, but it was right. Two boys just in love with each other, they see nothing but each other. Jughead adores the book he has written about you, there’s a load of wisdom sprouted from your mouth. 

“People tend to forget to tell each other how much they love or miss you or need you, and even if they do remember, sometimes they're just too shy, too scared, too certain it's the wrong thing to say or the wrong timing. But it's not. It never is. Say it before it's too late. For all we know, it could all be different tomorrow.”

“It really could.”

“I could die tomorrow, and I know there will be a lot of unsaid things in the air. There will be regret.”

Jughead looks at you, “Are you okay?”

You shrugged your shoulder, there was a faint smile on your face, “I haven’t been okay for a long time,” There was a beat silence as you laugh, “I’m just kidding, Jug, I’m okay.”

Jughead wishes he didn’t believe it - but foolishly, he did.

Life continues, he recalls how happy you were, there was nothing in life that could go wrong for you. And yet, you let out your deepest feelings in the late night meet up at Pop’s.

“You know,” You sighed, leaning your head back against the window, “I’m tired of feeling-”

“Huh?”

“I’m so done with life, this life I mean. Reincarnate me to another lifetime like two hundred years from now, maybe it’ll be better.”

“That is if climate change hasn’t taken us already,” Jughead say as you chuckle softly, “Maybe we’ll have robots.”

“Maybe, they’ll lower the age of drinking.”

There you go, joking again, as if you haven’t accidentally got to deep in your feelings. Jughead remembers how you were, and now he cringes. It’s all there, the signs of calling for help - right in front of him. And, he brushed it off because he thinks you’re joking.

Jughead remembers.

It hurts.

He had all, and then most of you. Some and now none of you.

He remembers how you started to drift away from him. The meetings late night started to be rare until you stopped showing up. The smile was there but it looked sort of faded. You weren’t by side as much until you were avoiding him, telling him that you were busy. 

You died.

You killed yourself.

You were at peace now. 

“Please...”

The wind rustles the nearby trees, it’s not cold out. In fact, the breeze was comforting in the warm day, summer was ending and autumn was starting to come about. Autumn had always been your favourite season, it was the season for staying in and the cold weather starting to nip at your nose. It’s an excuse to wear jumpers and have hot coffee.

“Please, take me back to the night we met.”

Jughead trembles, he’s on his knees as he stares at your headstone. It’s clean and fresh among those that have been forgotten over the years. Jughead doesn’t think a slab of stone fits you well, it’s just not you.

Your life could never be marked by a gravestone, something so cold and immobile. Perhaps a tree with a wind-chime in the branches could do you more justice, or a simple song sung into the wind. What lies in the ground is only flesh and blood, that's never what you were. 

You were quite honestly the most beautiful spirit Jughead has ever known. he prays that you soar with the eagles on lofty breezes and swim in oceans deep; he prays that you know the freedom this life could never give you, yet most of all he prays that when his time comes it is you that takes him by the hand and you go onwards to better times together.

There are flowers for you, some that were there since you were buried, some that were new. But, your grave was never short of flowers. 

“I would have done anything for them-”

“-Except save them,” Archie says behind him.

A reared as if he had been slapped. Jughead swallowed hard, eyes wide and startled before their gaze shuttered. “You have no fucking idea,” He whips around to tackle the redhead, “You don’t know (Y/n), you don’t know him like I know him. Don’t think for one second I wouldn’t have tried.”

“Juggie,” FP says softly, grabbing the boy by his shoulders, “(Y/n) wouldn’t want you to do this.”

“I’m sorry,” Archie whispered, he knows he overstepped the line - it’s a shock really, your death was sudden.

“I failed him,” Jughead says, it’s a struggle for him because he’s holding back tears, “I keep seeing his face and I can’t help think I’ve failed him.”

Guilt, too much of it. 

Regret, and you were right - there are a lot of unsaid things in the air and he regrets not telling you.

“I love him.”

“He loves you too,” FP says, making Jughead look him in the eyes, “There is not a bone in (Y/n) that tells you, you were ever at fault - okay? He doesn’t want you to blame yourself.”

Going home was an empty feeling in Jughead, FP knows it will take a while for Jughead to bounce back to himself. School seems to empty without you, there isn’t someone there to wait for him at his locker; instead, there’s candles and flowers at yours. Jughead goes to sleep with the papers of your unfinished story, he goes to sleep in your sweaters.

He keeps a picture of you, always on himself. One night he stares at you, it’s been two weeks since you were buried. Your relationship with him hadn’t lasted long, three months - not once he had uttered the three words as you did to him.

“I love you,” Jughead whispers to the picture of you.

“Why didn’t you tell me that when I was alive?” Your voice questions him, he knows you’re not there, but can’t help himself to imagine you by his side.

“I was scared.”

There was silence, “Yeah, I know that feeling.”

He can’t imagine how terrified you were, in your last moments of breathing. He doesn’t want to imagine it, yet sometimes it keeps him up at night. 

“Make my story ending a good one, will you?” Your voice says, there’s a tone of happiness for a second.

“I don’t know how to end it,” Jughead admits, “It wasn’t supposed to end so soon.”

“Tell them I was brave for finding peace,” Your voice softly begs, “Please, that’s how I want it to end.”

Jughead stays silent before nodding to himself; he knows he’ll be haunted by the ghost of you. But, that’s a request he can do for you - your one last wish.

“Okay,” He whispers.

Maybe, just maybe, you found peace in his word.

[nanaminsonyfans]

✨Birds of a Feather✨

Masterlist ✨ Requesting Rules

Request; Could I request a YJs1 Dick x reader with the reader being new to the team and a protege of black canary? He’s my favourite 🥰

A/N; honestly, if one robin is AT LEAST one of your favorites, if they aren’t in the top three, i don’t trust you. also, i really like the way i wrote this a stuff, if anyone wants i can make this a thing. I fucking grew up on young justice i love these characters. rock and roll buckeroo!

Pairing; Dick Grayson(Robin) x Fem!Reader

Warnings; fluff, slight cursing

Your upbringing wasn’t pleasant, for a short backstory, Black Canary found you when she did a raid on an illegal Meta-Human fighting ring. Your parents sold you to the leader of the ring. Your power was similar to Canary’s, in which your voice was a power. You could mimic sounds around you like a mockingbird, but you had similarities with an owl in the fact that your neck could turn all the way around and you had night vision. Black Canary found you when you were ten, taking you in as her own. She took you under her wing. *dad jokehehuheh*

She had taken care of you for four years, you ever really made you debut as a hero, until Batman started the underground team of sidekicks. Robin of course knew of you, as did Batman because, duh. Well, Roy did too but that was mainly because Green Arrow was dating Canary. He was like a big brother, and he deeply cared for you. 

“And this is Black Canary’s protégé, Mockingbird.” You walked out from the shadows, a black hoodie and red jeans on. Your hoodie had your favorite band one it, whatever it may be. “Sup.” You nod your head at the boys, your hood covered your face since it was dark but you also had glasses on, kinda like Robin’s but they were reading glasses. The glasses could profile anyone and bring up their history, if it’s in the web or files on the cloud, you gotem.

Kid Flash was easy, he didn’t both with covering his face, everyone else was open with you, but not Robin. You glasses always got glitched out when you tried to activate them while looking at him. He knew this and did it on purpose. He didn’t know much about you, only you hero name, you also did that on purpose, it was a fun little battle. You were closer to Robin anyways, being close in age but that didn’t stop Wally from flirting. “Hey babe~ Wanna spar~?” The redhead would ask, before you could speak he would go pale. “Nevermind.” Then he’d run away, you guessed it was Robin, he had mastered the infamous bat-glare.

When Artemis joined the team, you were happy. Another human girl on the team, no offense to M’gann but you felt more comfortable with another human female around. Plus, she was funny. You lived in Star City with Diane and Oliver, and you met her first, it was awesome when you came with her to the Cave and saw all of them shocked.

“What’s up, birdy?” You smile as you trotted over to Robin, you didn’t really have a superhero suit, you kinda took after Black Canary, civilian clothes were your hero clothes. It was usually blood stained black leggings, a navy blue crop top hoodie and black paint around your eyes and bridge of your nose rather than a regular mask because those were itchy. “Do NOT call me that.” Boy Wonder grumbled and elbowed you playfully. You gave him a smirk and batted you eyelashes at him. “You love me.” “No I don’t.” He snorted.

“The Wallman is here!” A redhead yelled through the zeta-tubes as he entered, the loud noise made you yelp and grab onto the nearest person, which was Robin. When you both realized that you both turned red. “Yeesh...stay whelmed Mockingbird.” He finally got out after being frozen. You both had completely ignored the situation going on around you, until...

“Recognize: Speedy, B06.” The computer spoke, making you grinning like an idiot and turn towards the tubes. “Well for starters, he doesn’t go by speedy anymore. Call me Red Arrow.” Your eyes lit up at your brother, well not really brother but you both looked at each other as such. “Roy-” Oliver started but you cut him off. “Roy!” You yelled happily and ran towards your redhead. “Wa to ruin his moment...” Wally grumbled but you flipped him off as you hugged Roy. “Why don’t you call anymore? I’ve been worried. So was Olly, and I guess Robin, Kaldur, and Wally, but I’m your sister!” You whined and teared up, your tears mixing with the paint you used as a mask causing black tears.

“Oh birdie...you know why.” Roy soothed causing you to sniffle and rub your tears away. “Right, sorry.” You mumble and pull away, “Sorry.” You mumbled again and walked back to your spot by Robin, the taller boy put a hand on your shoulder. “Roy, you look-” Oliver started, “Replaceable.” Roy hissed and walked over. “You know it’s not like that.” “Then why bother with a sub? Can she even use that bow?” He gestured angrily to the blonde archer. “Yes she can.” Artemis hissed back. “Who are you?!” Wally whined. “I’m his niece.” “She’s his niece.” “She’s my niece.” Artemis, you, and Green Arrow stated in a matter-of-fact like tone. “Another niece?” Robin snorted, earning an elbow from you.

“But he’s not your replacement!” You chimed in, walking over to the arrows. “We have always wanted you on the team.” Aqualad said, walking over to the now, Red Arrow. “And we have no quota on archers.” The leader continued. “And if we did, you know who we’d pick!” Wally chimed, glaring over at Artemis. “Whatever Baywatch,” Artemis glared, “I’m here to stay.” You stifled a chuckle and looked away. “Baywatch...” You snorted. “But you came here for a reason, right Roy?” You asked when you finally calmed down. “Yeah, a reason named Dr. Sterling Roquette.”

Both yours and Robin’s eyes widened before you both pulled up a file with the holographic computer. “Nano-robotics genius-” Robin started as he began typing. “And claytronics expert at Royal University in Star City! I love her!” You finished and gushed the last part. “Vanished two weeks ago.” Robin continued, earning a frown on your face. “Abducted two weeks ago, by the League of Shadows.” “Woah, you want us to rescue her from The Shadows?” Boy wonder said in a hopeful tone. “Hardcore.” Wally said in awe and fist bumped the other boy. “Dumbasses.” You scoffed and hit them both in the back of the neck. “Roy probably already did that.” You pointed out and walked over to him with a big smile. Roy smiled back and ruffled your hair. “She’s right, I already rescued her. There’s only one problem, the shadows already got her to make a weapon, ‘Doc call it the Fog.” Roy pulled up an image of a dark cylinder looking object with red buttons.

“It’s comprised of millions of microscopic robots, nanotech infiltrators, capable of disintegrating anything in their path- concrete, steel, flesh, bone.- but it’s true purpose isn’t mere destruction. It’s theft. The infiltrators eat and story raw data from any computer system and deliver the stolen data to the Shadows. Providing them access to weapons, strategic defense, cutting edge science and tech.” “Perfect for extortion, manipulation, and power broking.” Artemis starts, earning a groan from Wally, an admiring look from you, and a knowing look from Robin. “Yep. Sounds like The Shadows.” She finishes. “Oh like you know anything about The Shadows.” Wally groans and glares at the blonde, who just smirks. “Who ARE you?!” Wally yells obviously irritated, both you and Robin chuckled a little.

“Roquette’s working on a virus to render the Fog inert.” Roy says, ignoring the childish behavior. “But if The Shadows know she can do that...” Robin started quietly, you gasped softly. “They’ll target her.” You whisper in shock. “It’s okay, right now she’s off the grid. I stashed her in a local highschool computer lab.” Roy shrugs, opening his mouth to speak again. “You left her alone?” Green Arrow asks in shock and mild disappointment. ‘Oh great, here we go again.’ You think as you roll  you eyes. “She’s safe enough for now.” Roy spits and glares at Oliver. “Then let’s you and I take care of that together.” “You and I? Don’t you want to take your new protogé.” The redhead spits again, earning a groan from you. “Roy, you brought this to the team, we’ll talk care of it okay?” You say softly, putting your hand on his shoulder. “And she is part of the team. I promise nothing bad will happen. Trust me, big bro.” You smile, a child like glint in you e/c eyes. “Fine, Y/n. I trust you.” Roy whispered, kissing your forehead before leaving. “Speedy-” The computer started, “Change that to Red Arrow.” You spoke up before Roy could, you winked at him before he left.

Robin knew it was a platonic gesture, you both looked at each other like siblings, he knew that. He fucking knew but a piece of him was jealous. He didn’t know why, maybe he like you? No, he wouldn’t, doesn’t matter anyways. The team had a mission to do. But god damnit he couldn’t stop thinking about it. He wished he could be the one kissing your forehead, holding you, knowing your actual name like Roy did. Damn, being a teenager with feelings fucking SUCKS. 

All of a sudden you all were linked up by Miss Martian telepathy. “Everyone online?” Her voice rung inside your head, causing a giggle. “Mhm.”  You hummed in your head while you sat on a table between Kid Flash and Robin. “Woah, this is weird.” Artemis said, in her head of course, and you just giggled in response. “I know right? Prepare for a killer headache when Megan cuts it off!” You giggled more as you popped some of Wally’s fruit snacks in your mouth. Then the doctor started complaining. “Lady, I’m not really diggin your attitude right now.” You say while rolling your eyes. “You literally look like some random kid they got from the street!” The doctor replied earning a huff from you as you sat up straight. 

“You literally look like some random kid they got from the street.” You said, using your mocking power, you spoke in her exact voice, earning a shocked look from her. “Now shut the fuck up.” You hissed in your normal voice, earning a stern look from Aqualad. “Oh don’t judge my language fish boy.” You grumbled and crossed your arms, looking through a blind. “Do you always act like this when people try to help you?” Wally’s voice rung in your head. “Pot, kettle, you’ve met?” Artemis replied, you snickered slightly. “Great, now I want kettle corn. Thanks Art.” You whined and then ignored them arguing until Robin spoke. “You should give her some more credit. It was /her/ arrow that saved you from Amazo.” Robin said with a smirk, in which you practically swooned. “No, it was Spee-Red Arrow’s arrow, right?” “Not so much.” Robin snickered and you did as well. 

“God I love his voice.” You thought and then you realized that everyone was connected, SHIT. Your eyes widened and your face turned red. “I mean haha, I was thinking of something else.” You got up. “I’ll...I’ll go an patrol the halls...hall monitor duties.” You got up. “Oh god oh god. This is so embarrassing.” You though as you messed with your fingerless gloves. “Should we tell her?” Wally’s voice rang in your head, you could feel him smirking. “THEN DON’T LISTEN!” You screamed from the hallway and you could hear his laughs. Everyone basically knew you had a crush on Robin, it was obvious to everyone but him. He felt the same, it was also obvious to everyone but you. This was not the TIME.

You were walking down the hall, until you heard footsteps behind you. You turned around, punching the figure and wrapping you legs around the person’s waist as you pinned them down. “Woah woah, stay whelmed, Mockingbird.” You squeezes you legs tighter when you realized it was Robin. “What do you want?” You whisper-shouted. “You seemed to be distraught. You really should get traught.” He gave you a smirk that you always melted over. “Mind not squeezing me to death?” He asked and you flushed as you let him go from you thighs crushing him. 

“Your wordplay is so stupid...” You smiled softly and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. “So what? You said you love my voice.” Robin teased. “I do.” You sighed and then covered your mouth in shock. “I-I mean...shut up!” Robin bit his lip and rubbed the back of his neck. “I have to head out with Superboy.” He mumbled in which you sighed and grabbed his wrist before he could leave. “Be safe okay?” You whisper softly, getting closer to him. His lips were inches away from your. Robin smiled and kissed your forehead. “I’ll try.” He smiled in which you turned so red you were sure you would’ve been glowing. “It’s Y/n...Y/n L/n.” You spoke up as he started to walk away. “That’s my name.” You mumble. He turned around, wide eyed. 

“Y/n L/n eh? That’s a pretty name.” Robin teased before running off.

[vizhi0nw]

Confidence

Pairing: Porco/OC/Reiner

Warnings: NSFW - oral (male/female receiving) handjobs, threesome, face riding.

Words: 4k

I’ve never written a fic for SNK before but I decided...why not. I hope I did Porco and Reiner justice. This is just smut with some backstory and feels (Reiner needs a big hug)

                                                          ---

“Reiner always looks so....sad,” Samira murmured into Porco’s ear. “Like he’s got a lot of thoughts cooped up in his head and doesn’t know how to let them out.”

Porco hummed absently. He, like Samira, couldn’t take his eyes off Reiner. The tall blonde was listening to Zeke speak with half-hearted enthusiasm, his posture slack and his head tilted to one side. His entire demeanor, the entire act screamed discontent. Like he’d given up even attempting to take pointers from Zeke and was instead more interested in the little line of fire ants crawling across the dirt next to the heel of his shoe. 

Samira and Porco were a little ways away, cooped up on a rickety wooden bench, away from the training ground. It was tucked away, secluded, and in the shade - it was the perfect little metaphor for her relationship with Porco, Samira mused. Tucked away. Secluded. She was well aware that people knew she and Porco were together, but it wasn’t something Porco had yet to feel comfortable flaunting in front of Zeke or the other warriors - though, Samira knew he’d like nothing more than to rub it in the Jeager’s face - for reasons she had yet to uncover. 

When Samira looked at Porco, his eyes were still trained on Reiner. His brow was furrowed, lips pulled taut into a line. It was one of the very few times Samira couldn’t read him, and it always seemed to happen when he was gazing at the blonde Warrior who had been a source of flickering ire in his life for as long as Samira could remember. 

She leaned up and gently kissed the exposed skin of Porco’s neck before nipping at his earlobe. “First Reiner, now you. Why the face?”

“He doesn’t have anything to be sad about. Not after I saved his ass on the battlefield,” Porco murmured. “I don’t know what goes on in that brick of a head of his.”

“Maybe you - we - should ask.”

“Maybe I don’t want to know,” Porco turned back to face Samira. “I’d much rather think about what’s going on in your head than his.”

“You already know because I tell you,” Samira giggled as Porco’s mouth covered her own, his kisses quick and demanding but to the point and oh-so arden - all him. When he pulled away, Samira tilted her head in Reiner’s direction. “We should talk to him. I know you don’t like to admit it to yourself, but you’re his friend.”

Porco snorted. “Yeah, sure.”

“Pock.”

“Friends on the battlefield, acquaintances off,” Porco replied. “If you insist on talking to him, go ahead. I won’t stop you.” 

Samira didn’t have to go far. Reiner was already heading towards them, his expression the same as before, though a bit less forlorn. Samira gently separated herself from Porco, leaving her partner to sit, arms crossed and with a sour expression on his face.

“Did Zeke chew you out too badly?” Samira inquired.

Reiner shrugged. “Not...as badly as he normally does. What I did on the battlefield was stupid. Reckless. I understand that now.”

“You’re back safe. That’s all that really matters,” Samira said softly. Reiner’s eyes widened a bit, and he nodded his head robotically. Samira could see the flush creeping up his neck to his cheeks, and she was glad Porco had decided to focus his attention on a browning blade of grass. 

Reiner, bless him, had always been terrible at hiding the fact that he was rather enamored with Samira. More than once, Samira had caught him gazing at her with half-lidded eyes, and he always seemed hesitant to approach, especially when Porco was around. Reiner wasn’t one to exacerbate tension, and Samira was positive he’d been spending prior months trying to crush whatever feelings he had for Samira with the same force and drive he used to crush enemies on the battlefield as the Armored Titan. To Reiner, Samira was unobtainable.

Perhaps his sadness was a byproduct of that. Samira wasn’t sure, but she felt she owed it to Reiner - he was a kind man, and his sense of duty rivaled that of Porco. He’d been one of the few people who had stuck up for Samira when Zeke had made it very clear that he harbored no fondness towards her. He was also heavily burdened with emotions from his experiences on Paradis, something Porco had only told her about in passing. Whatever had happened, whatever Reiner had done or seen, had changed him. 

“I’m back, but at what cost?” Reiner murmured. “I...I shouldn’t burden you with my problems, Sam. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. I just noticed that you seemed upset. If you ever need someone to talk to, I’m available. So is Porco, to be honest. I know he’s an ass but he does care about you,” Samira glanced back towards her partner. “Bottling things up isn’t healthy. Trust me, I know.”

Reiner let out a long sigh. He seemed as if he wanted to talk further, but pulled himself away. “I appreciate that.”

Samira squeezed his arm as he walked past. She felt him stiffen beneath her touch, briefly, before his stride increased and he almost hurried away. Porco finally lifted his head to watch Reiner disappear back inside, once again sporting that same unreadable expression as before. 

One day, Samira would figure out what that expression meant.

                                                         ---

Porco squeezed out the sponge, letting a cascade of hot, soapy water run down the smooth expanse of Samira’s back. 

He felt content to just look at her like she was his prize, which she was. His greatest prize, more important and valuable than any victory on the battlefield. More important than Marley itself, though Porco could never bring himself to admit it to anyone other than Samira. 

Porco leaned forward and kissed her shoulder, one hand running across deep brown skin as she leaned back to rest against him. The thick, tightly packed coils of hair on her head were wet, washed, and smelled like mint. The water of the bath was still the perfect temperature, soothing Porco’s sore limbs and making him wish he could just last in this moment forever. 

He knew it would have to end, eventually. He didn’t want to think about that right now. He wanted to think about Samira and how her soft, flexible fingers were massaging the skin of his thigh -

“We should do something to help Reiner out,” Samira hummed. “He’s upset. I can tell. He needs...something. Help. I don’t know-”

“Talk to Zeke about it. Have him deal with it.”

Samira barked a laugh. “Me? Talk to Zeke?”

She was right. It was a dumb suggestion, and Porco internally cursed himself for not spouting out Pieck’s name instead. Zeke harbored nothing but negative feelings towards Samira, born most likely out of envy. Porco had something that he didn’t. 

Porco sighed and reclined back further in the bath. “Stupid suggestion, I know.”

Samira turned, sitting up a bit to straddle Porco’s hips. He groaned - she was tantalizingly close to him, his cock resting languidly against her inner thigh. He tried not to think about it while she began to speak. 

“The way you look at him sometimes...it confuses me.”

“What do you mean?” 

“I can usually read you like the back of my hand,” Samira murmured. “When you look at Reiner sometimes, I can’t read you. It’s like I’m back to when we first met - you had that same expression on your face when you looked at me. Like you didn’t know what to feel, how to feel.”

“I know how I feel about Reiner,” Porco didn’t even believe those words as they tumbled out. He grit his teeth and ducked his head, waiting for Samira to catch his flub. She didn’t. Like she usually did, she waited for him to compose himself, gave him time, before speaking. 

“You don’t always have to rush into things head-on, Pock. Much less your emotions. I know you think of...of Marcel, when you see him. I know how much it hurts.”

It brought Porco comfort that she did know, empirically so, as she’d lost two of her own siblings to war. She wasn’t just saying it as a pity response. The wounds were raw, real, and deep. Samira herself had yet to heal from hers, either, though she’d made a far better effort than Porco knew he had. 

She was better than him. So much better than him. Porco knew deep down he didn’t deserve someone like her. 

“Both of my brothers died saving me,” Samira whispered. “I knew I wasn’t fit for the battlefield, that I was weak, but I enlisted anyway and they paid for it.”

Porco gripped her arms almost instinctively, holding her tightly and hissing, “You are not weak-” 

“I was weak, Porco. I couldn’t do what needed to be done because I was scared. I told everyone I wasn’t. I pretended to be brave and capable,” Samira’s hands reached up to cradle Porco’s face. “Reiner was a child. You were all children.”

Porco leaned forward and rested his head against Samira’s shoulder. He kissed her damp skin, her shoulder, her neck, before kissing his way up her jaw and finally, her lips. 

“We can...we can try something. To help,” Porco whispered. “Just- fuck - just tell me what you want to do.”

                                                        ---

“Are you sure he’ll agree to this?” Porco dug his thumb into the tight muscle between Samira’s neck and shoulder, casually massaging out a knot beneath the skin. Samira hummed and tilted her head to the side, eyes fluttering shut. 

“I think he will.”

It didn’t take long for Reiner to arrive, shuffling into the room rather awkwardly before closing the door behind him. He looked between Porco and Samira, confusion etched across his face. 

“You wanted to see me?”

“Obviously,” Porco’s tone was smooth and curt. “We called you here, didn’t we?”

 “For what?”

Before Samira could explain, Porco spoke. There was a glint in his eye, and a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He kept a hand steady on Samira’s shoulder, his thumb now stroking patterns against her skin. “You know, Braun, you’re incredibly bad at hiding the way you look at Sam. Eye-fucking another man’s girl across a room isn’t exactly the brightest idea, considering who that man is.”

Reiner sputtered and Samira’s eyes widened at Porco’s words. She reached over to swat his chest, but he caught her wrist, his smile widening. 

“I should beat the shit out of you right now for that,” Porco said. “But I won’t. Instead, I’ll indulge you.”

“W-what do you mean?” Reiner’s adams apple bobbed as he gulped, eyes darting between Samira and Porco. 

“You want to fuck her?” Porco said. 

Reiner didn’t reply. Porco asked again, this time slower.

“I said, do you want to fuck her, Braun?”

“You can say yes,” Samira interrupted. “That’s why you’re here - to answer your question.” 

Reiner’s fingers fell away from where they’d been hovering over the doorknob, though they drifted back up when Porco instructed him to turn the lock. The blonde took slow, methodical steps across the room, coming to stop before Samira. His hands were shaking a bit as he reached out to clasp her face between his big hands. Samira began working at the buttons of his shirt, peeling the cloth away to reveal rippling muscles underneath. 

“I - thank you,” Reiner said.

“Just kiss her, you brute,” Porco rolled his eyes. 

While Porco’s kisses were demanding, Reiner’s were almost needy - like he’d never had them before and wanted more. He and Porco both worked to undress Samira, tossing her clothes away without a care as to where they landed in the room. 

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” Porco moaned against Samira’s hair. 

Reiner nodded frantically, before gasping as he was wrestled onto the bed by two pairs of hands. 

“This is for you,” Samira murmured against his lips. She worked on undoing his belt, sliding it off and letting it clatter to the wooden floor. She spread her fingers before curling them around his clothed cock, palming him through his trousers. Reiner writhed against the sheets, bare chest heaving. His eyes travelled from Samira, to Porco, who was yanking his own shirt over his head. 

He was already hard when Samira pulled his pants and undergarments down past his hips and off his legs. His dick was impressive in girth and length, and Samira brushed her palm across the head as she crawled up to kiss him once more. She heard Porco aggressively ridding himself of his own pants, the bed dipping as he joined the duo. 

Samira pulled away and licked a stripe across his collarbone before resuming her journey down his chest, Sweat was beading on Reiner’s brow as he propped herself up to look down at Samira as she gave his cock a few tugs before pushing the head past her lips. 

Reiner’s thighs tensed. Samira felt a hand gently stroke her hair - Porco - as she slid down further on his cock. 

“Ah,” Reiner’s eyes were half-closed, the muscles in his lower abdomen tight. Samira felt soft breathing against her cheek as Porco leaned down, his own lips brushing over Reiner’s cock. He began to leave teasing, suckling kisses against the skin, drawing out filthy moans from deep within Reiner’s gut. He then laid his tongue flat against the broad base, licking a long stripe from root to tip. 

It was Porco who pulled Samira off Reiner’s cock, eventually, though not before smashing his lips against hers for good measure. Reiner watched, mouth agape, cock leaking and happy between his legs. 

Porco’s fingers snuck between Samira’s legs, swiping across her slick folds. 

“Sucking him off got you that wet?” Porco inquired, though there was no jealousy in his tone - only lust. “Fuck.”

Strong fingers gripped Samira’s face. Porco yanked her forward, crushing his mouth against hers, once more, with urgency. Samira felt the bed shift as Reiner began to try and sit up, only to be shoved back down by a strong push from Porco. 

“Stay still. This is for you, after all,” Porco kept a firm grip on Samira’s face, eyes travelling from the proud column of Reiner’s throat, down his barrel chest and hips. Gone was that same hooded-eyed look Samira was used to seeing, instead replaced by one of pure, unsullied desire. He wanted Reiner just as much as Samira.

Maybe that had been the source of “the look” all along. It was no secret to Samira that Porco, like her, had no preference for the gender of his partner - Porco had admitted, several times, that Reiner was an attractive man. Samira just hadn’t read into it as fully as she probably should have. 

“Why don’t you show him how you ride me?” Porco’s large palm drifted across Samira’s back as she happily clambered atop Reiner, his breath hitching as she rested her palms against his chest. She swung a leg over his hip,  and Reiner’s own hand frantically came to grip the base of his cock, sliding the appendage between Samira’s slick folds. 

Porco was watching, eyes narrowed to slits. With a snarl, he reached down to grab Reiner’s face between his fingers - the same motion he’d done to Samira moments earlier - so he could lean down and kiss him. Reiner gave a deep, rumbling moan, eyes slipping closed as Samira sank down onto him, inch by inch, velvety walls trapping his cock in a vice grip. 

It felt heavenly. Reiner felt heavenly.

The bed creaked as Porco pulled away from Reiner and flopped onto his back, the veins on his thick arms pulsing as he gripped his cock and began to stroke. 

“She feels f-fucking amazing, doesn’t she?” Porco could barely speak, and Reiner couldn’t speak at all - he just grunted and nodded in agreement. “Don’t ever f-forget how her pussy feels. You’re only getting it o-once.”

That, Samira knew immediately, was a lie.

Samira lurched forward, legs clamping around Reiner’s hips as her orgasm rocked her entire body. Reiner pumped upward once, twice, before he came - grunting out expletives and gnawing on his lower lip so hard that Samira was scared he would break skin and bleed. His dick was spent, sticky and still leaking as it slipped from her cunt and bobbed before resting against his stomach

“We’re ignoring Porco,” Samira said through her heaving pants. Reiner’s big hand was running across her hips, her lower back, and thighs. He had a half-dazed expression on his face, but perked up when Samira reached over to stroke her partner’s bare, heaving chest. 

“Fucking hell,” Porco moaned. “Both of you will be the death of me, I swear.”

“I couldn’t think of a better way to go,” Reiner replied. 

“Shut the fuck up,” Porco was laughing, shoulders bouncing. He reached out to grip Samira’s thigh, stopping her before she could climb off Reiner’s lap. “I want you on my face next.”

“P-Pock-”

A tilt of the head and a sharp look was enough for Samira to know that he wasn’t kidding.

This was new - Samira had never...well, Porco had never suggested it before during the countless times he’d taken her in this very same bed. She’d imagined it, of course, but she’d never imagined that Porco would ask her to sit on his face. He wasn’t a vanilla guy, but she could tell that Reiner’s presence in the room had changed the way he acted. Perhaps it was some urge to one-up Reiner, prove to him that he, and only he, could make Samira moan and scream and tremble all at once. Samira wasn’t complaining.

Always a competition, Samira mused. 

She allowed herself to smile as she swung her legs on either side of Porco’s head, making sure to give him room to breathe. She braced her hands on the headboard of the bed, fingers curling into the wood as Porco caressed her thighs, her stomach, and then her breasts, tweaking a nipple with his thumb and making Samira mewl. 

“Watch and learn, Braun,” Porco breathed against Samira’s folds. He licked a stripe from one end to the other, and Samira’s hips bucked, her grip on the headboard tightening. His mouth felt so good on her, suckling at her clit before he slid a finger into her tight cunt, crooking the appendage and drawing out filthy sounds from Samira’s parted lips.

Reiner seemed content to just stare, though Samira could see his eyes drifting lower and lower, past the smooth plane of Porco’s stomach to his erect cock. Reiner disappeared from her sight, suddenly, and Samira twisted her head and saw Reiner dive and slip Porco’s cock past his lips. 

“S-shit,” Porco’s hips bucked and he speared Samira on his tongue, fingers slipping from her pussy to reach down and tangle in Reiner’s blonde locks. “What’s got you so f-fucking confident?”

Samira threw her head back and laughed. Her knees and thighs burned but she didn’t care. All she wanted was to come, desperately, and for Porco to get her there. He used his free hand to shove two fingers back inside of her. She could hear Reiner behind her, heard him gag as he sucked Porco’s dick farther and farther into his mouth. 

Porco moaned. Fire exploded in Samira’s gut and she curled forward, and Porco lapped at her like a starving man. The only indicator that he’d come was a subtle tightening of his abs and the sound of Reiner milking him dry, sliding his cock past his lips. 

It took several moments for Samira to peel herself away from Porco, legs spent, her entire body feeling as if it were on a cloud. She collapsed between the two men, Porco remaining on his back while Reiner crawled up, the back of his hand covering his mouth as he wiped away the final evidence of Porco’s release on his lips and chin. 

There were no words spoken between the three, at first. Porco’s eyes were shut, as if he were sleeping. Reiner remained on his side, a distant look in his eyes. Samira was panting still, and she gave a soft sigh. She leaned over and pressed her lips against Reiner’s. 

“Why?” Reiner’s words were soft, though not accusatory. Curious. Just...curious. 

“It was her idea,” Porco mumbled. “You know how she gets. Relentless.”

“Don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy it,” Samira replied.

“Never said I didn’t.”

“Why?” Reiner repeated the question, this time a bit more forcefully. Porco finally opened his eyes, reaching down to yank the covers across all three of them.

“I...I wanted to do something for you, and I was tired of this little dance the three of us have been doing,” Samira answered honestly. “If I overstepped, I’m sorry-”

“No. I enjoyed it,” Reiner insisted. “I...I needed it. This. Thank you.” 

This time, it was Reiner who tilted forward to capture Samira’s lips with his own. When he pulled away, he leaned over to kiss Porco’s neck before returning to his side of the bed. 

Porco’s skin was flushed red, and Samira could see him struggling not to speak. He instead opted to toss an arm across Samira’s waist and turn over to bury his nose in the nest of coily hair on her head. He was the first to fall asleep, leaving Samira teetering on the edge of slumber and Reiner still wide awake, but beginning to drift off.

“He doesn’t hate you, you know. No matter how much he says he does, he doesn’t hate you,” Samira whispered. She absently lifted a hand to stroke Porco’s hair as soft snores began slipping from his parted lips. 

“How do you know?” 

“Because he’s able to love someone like me.”

Reiner gulped, his eyes drifting to Porco’s face. He reached over and flicked off the bedside lamp, dousing the room in darkness. It was a while before he spoke again, his voice barely above a murmur.

“Good night, Sam.”

“Good night, Reiner.”

[mcfreakin-bxtch]

Hello! I hope you're doing okay over there. Are your requests open? If so, could you do a Din x reader with the reader sketching him (the child and their special moments together) when she thinks he isn't looking, but one day he finds the sketchbook? If they're closed just ignore the request but hold on tight to the wishes of good furtune and health ♥ Stay safe!

I’m hanging in there sweet anon and I hope you’re doing okay too (okay but this is so cute omg).

Warnings: It’s really just two dorks and good ole fluff. Some of this is unedited as well

*Reminder that the forum for my taglist is still up and pinned!

__________________________________________ 

If he would turn slightly to the left, you’d be able to get the perfect angle you need to finish the sketch. 

The helmet reflects the glare of the stars, illuminating a bright shine around the top of the beskar and stinging your eyes just a little when you look up at it. You can’t help but do it anyway. The Child is asleep, a day of actually getting to use those little feet of his wore him out - you love the little one, but you and Din have exhausted yourselves keeping up with finding him his home and protecting him at the same time; this peace and quiet right now is highly overdue.

The pencil glides easily against the paper, connecting every line to another, creating another favorite of yours; the perfect piece of art that’s sitting in front of you, unaware of the stacks of sketches that you’ve drawn silently in the whatever corner you can lurk in. To be honest, with as attentive as he is, you’re surprised he hasn’t caught on to you yet. 

You’re so lost in finishing the shades that you don’t notice the Mandalorian turning slightly towards you in his seat. He watches your brows furrow in deep concentration, the light scratching in the air a comfort to him since the months of hearing it. He’s never actually seen any of your drawings, however, and he knows that one day the curiosity will get the better of him and he’ll ask... eventually. 

Truth is he’s not all the sure on why he hasn’t asked you yet, despite the growing and gnawing interest with teeth that grows sharper and longer as more time goes on. And it’s not like you’ve ever brought it up, either. It’s been this unspoken thing between the two of you - a dance that’s familiar in any language; of scared love and child-like curiosity that seeps into something deeper.

That’s exactly what he’s afraid of. 

It’s in this moment of sensing a pair of eyes on you - the pair of eyes you can’t see, but imagine they must be green, or brown more than anything. For a moment, you’re almost afraid to find out.

With a small intake of air you will your head to tilt up. The visor spins away so quick that it’s almost comical, and you bite your lip to suppress the giggle bubbling in your chest. 

“Din,” you call his name teasingly. “Is there something you wanted?”

It’s almost too hard to hide the laughter when his helmet jolts towards you, like he’s surprised that you called him out on it. 

“I -” You think you hear a gulp through the statics of the vocoder. “- I was... I was just wondering what you were drawing. I’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable.”

Your heart skips a beat at the sincerity of his apology, and the fact that he was watching you, which has you wondering if this is a reoccurrence you’ve been blind to this entire time.

“It doesn’t,” you voice croaks. “It’s-it’s nothing really. Just the ship, whatever I see throughout the day.” You sit up, still clutching the book to your chest. “I’m going to check on the kid. Call for me if you need anything.”

When the hell did the air get so thick like this? You feel bad, so bad, and a part of you wants to desperately show him this simple thing that he just wants to look at, but... but he’ll know. One look and he’ll know.

“Okay,” the modulator cracks - you wonder what it’s masking right now, what you can’t hear through the robotic statics. “You can rest too while you’re at it. I’ll wake you when it’s time.”

You nod and awkwardly wave your departure, climbing down on wobbly legs to the hull and the cot the Child is asleep on; you’re relieved to see that he’s still bundled in his blanket, a peaceful expression gracing his features. 

It’s here you feel the fatigue settling on your shoulders. The dull beating You sigh and settle inside the small space, careful of your weight and making yourself as comfortable as you can get. With the book and pencil still in hand, you decide to finish the little details of his belt. 

***

Mando sighs as thoughts of you plague his mind once more. 

That, and the fact that he needs to sleep at least an hour before the landing at the next destination. 

He keens his ears for any sings of movements down in the hull, but when he hears nothing he climbs down to ladder in quiet, graceful strokes. 

The dim light does absolute injustice to your features in his opinion. It’s the first thing he notices, not the Child is gurgling over your open sketchbook that’s sprawled out on your lap as you sleep. 

“Kriff,” he curses under his breath and rushes as quietly as he can towards the bunk. He tries to keep his eyes averted of the drawings, but he can’t help it, especially when the Child pouts and slaps against the page when his hand clasps around it. 

It’s... well, it’s him. He’s leaning against the wall of what he can tell is the Razor Crest based off the small details you made sure to put in - he really admires that. Down at his feet is the little one, grinning up at him. Beneath the helmet that’s shielded him from the rest of the world for almost all his life, he smiles back; orange caresses the rough paper, imagining that he can actually feel it through the lead and gloves. 

The next page is of a planet he cannot name off the top of his head, but he can’t shake the feeling that it’s of home. 

Each page is filled with memories; past and present etched and filled with the kind of skill and warmth that can never be replaced; promises of mystery tied in like a piece of string. Most of them towards the end are of him and the Child. Small moments, mostly, like when he fell asleep with the kid secured to his armored-less chest, and moments when it’s him, sitting in the pilot’s seat or his cape flowing behind him as he walks away to a new bounty or clue to the Child’s powers.

He recognizes them with a deep fondness that makes his head swirl with all types of emotions. Din knows what they mean, but it’s the fear. Yet each drawing - he’s on the one from hours ago - scolds each inch of doubt within him, and in this he finds a type of bravery he’s hasn’t faced much before; it makes it more terrifying to him. 

“I like to draw what makes me happy.”

Your voice startles him from his thoughts. He’s never frozen up like this before - at least long ago - but now it feels like your stare alone is the only thing keeping him grounded to this spot. The doe like expression on your face the guilt that started to creep within his chest dissipates. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, because he still feels that he needs to apologize. “The kid had it and I... he likes the one where he found that flower.”

You smile widely at that, looking down at the child in question as you sit up. Din silently watches you climb out from the bunk and takes a few steps back to let you lean against the cold interior. 

“That’s one of my favorites, too,” you say; proudly, Din thinks. “And the one where you fell asleep in the pilot’s chair... you were so tired that day and I kept trying to get you to rest and let me take over, but you can be so stubborn sometimes, you know that?”

His chuckle radiates the room, and fuck it, it could radiate the entire galaxy. Yours join in with ease, but it quickly dies down, though not awkwardly or uncomfortably; it feels natural among the countless other laughs you’ve shared over the years. 

“I um - “ you clear your throat nervously, battling with the endless fluttering of butterflies in your stomach and the shakiness in your voice. “- I guess this is a good time to say that I really like you, Din. And I’ve been drawing these sketches of as many of these moments as I can because they’re so precious to me.” You take a deep breath. “Just like the Child is. Just like you are.”

You finish with a light scoff. It’s quiet, you have to pee, and you hope to the Maker above that this isn’t how your journey with Din ends; you should really open your eyes and at least do something if he’s just going to keep standing there. 

“I like you, too.” 

Your eyes nearly pop out of their sockets when those words reach your ears. It feels like your heart just stopped beating, your body frozen, and your thoughts bouncing wildly around like a blaster; that crackled laugh (that you know somehow is soft) brings you back to your body, back to the man standing closer to you know and slowly reaching his hand out. 

You glance at it before tracing your eyes over the worn out boots that’s seen better days, the scratched and scraped armor that you have shared more than enough time cleaning and polishing, the signet that the Mandalorian never fails to honor proudly, even in his own quiet ways; and now the helmet, the t-shaped visor that shields him.  

In this you find no fear. The weight of his hand in yours settles you and the soft link of his pinky with yours brings a stinging to your eyes. 

“I can’t do this alone,” he says. “And I want this to work. The Creed -”

“I know,” you interject quietly. “It’s not always going to be easy. But we got this, just like always, don’t we?”

“At least one of us has to.” 

His heart warms when the loudest snort he’s ever heard you make jolts the Child from his sleep, blinking those big eyes wearily as your muffled laugher continues against your fingers. “You should get some sleep now,” you tell him. “I got this one.”

It feels very natural to lean down and pick the Child up and smile at Din with assurance; he feels the air in his lungs draw out of him until he literally starts to feel breathless, and his lips stretch in a smile - it’s small and shy; hopeful. 

After he makes sure that the hull is closed off and lays his helmet by the plates of his armor (one of the rare times he actually can), settling onto the unforgiving but familiar cot, he imagines you’ll make a fuss about the scar on his nose with a pencil and book in your hands. 

Tags:  @talesfromtheguild, @absurdthirst, @chews-erotically, @hiwelcometochillys, @legally-a-bastard, @bluengrayfox, @pascaliprincess, @oloreaa, @thisis-theway, @jaynoellef, @ben-is-a-hoe, @hayley-the-comet, @pascalisthepunkest, @kenedyybrooklin, @garrshep, @paintmekala, @marian, @fit-fierce-gamer, @altersw, @hoodedbirdie

[angst-fairygodmother]

Break My Heart Right: Flattery (Luba x Reader)

Word Count: 1873 Rating: T Content Warnings: poor communication, low self-esteem/insecurity, discussion of sex work, angst Cross-posted to AO3 Taglist: @seanfalco (let me know if you want to be added) A/N: Points awarded for "Fic Most Inspired by the Series Title Song" and with the least relevant individual title.

You sat on the counter, Luba positioned between your legs, hands cradling your waist, watching you curiously. Your fingers swept the high arch of his brow, tracing down his temple, across the curve of his gorgeous cheekbones, along his sharp, angled nose, and finally rested, tapping out a teasing pattern on that perfect, pronounced cupid's bow. Your other hand cupped his jaw, holding him in place despite the fact that you applied absolutely no pressure at all.

“God you are beautiful,” you breathed, inhaling sharply when your words made his grip tighten. “I wish I could sculpt a face half as perfect as yours.”

He laughed, the high musical sound skittering through the air, and the breath on your skin sending a pleasant warmth flooding through you.

“That is what they pay me for. Imagine if you could make others look this distinctive too. I’d lose all my appeal.”

“Distinctive wasn't the word I used.”

He shrugged. “Synonyms.”

“Not even close. There's not another word that covers it. Perfect,” you insisted, leaning closer to make sure his emerald eyes (another unfair, gorgeous feature) were locked on yours. “You are absolutely fucking perfect. And I don’t just mean physically.”

“We should order dinner before the good places get a queue,” he said suddenly, backing away from your grasp and fiddling with the nearby touchscreen.

“Luba…” you groaned, frustration leaching into your tone.

“Unless you want to skip dinner and go straight for dessert?” He batted his long lashes at you coquettishly.

“Why do you always do this?”

“Do what, Y/N?”

“Get skittish and deflect when I try to compliment you or tell you how I feel about you.”

“That's not true. I love it when you tell me how good I make you feel.”

“You know that's not what I mean.”

“I don't want to talk about this, Y/N.” His voice had a sharp edge to it, as close as he ever got to true anger.

You huffed a sigh. “Fine. Whatever you want.”

~

Later on, you were laying in bed, tucked against Luba’s side, his fingers dancing over your upper arm. Both of you should have been sleeping, but the argument earlier plagued your mind, and Luba seemed to be lost in thoughts of his own. Turning your head, you pressed a lingering kiss to his chest, the gesture pulling his gaze down to meet your own.

He hummed, recognizing the questioning look on your face. “Something to share?”

“Just making sure you’re alright. You seem...pensive.”

“Thinking about what you said, that’s all.” He shrugged, the movement rocking you as well.

You waited, unsure if Luba was planning to elaborate.

“Have you ever loved someone?” He asked after a pause, almost long enough to mark the start of a totally new conversation. “Someone else? Besides me I mean.”

You felt a lump forming in your throat, heart nervously clenching, as you thought over the people in your past. Of course you had loved people before. He knew that, or at least about some of them. Eventually, you shrugged.

“Yeah, I guess so,” you admitted, eyebrows knitted in a frown.

“How did you lose them?” his voice was small.

“I...I didn’t. Not really. We grew apart, or realized that love by itself wasn’t enough.”

You felt Naadirah hanging over the pair of you, her ghost still haunting his heart. You felt your ex-lovers there too, taunting spectres of a person you weren’t anymore. You nibbled nervously at your lip. You felt a twinge of anger in your gut toward them, followed immediately by a wave of guilt. It was hardly their faults that they had a lingering effect; it was on you and on Luba.

Luba was still silent. You glanced up at him. He looked crushed and afraid, face contorted sourly and eyes teary.

“Will you feel that way about me someday?”

“What?” you couldn’t believe what you were hearing, voice rising sharply in shock. “No.”

“I think it will happen. Laying on someone else’s chest, in someone else’s bed. You’ll tell the story of the prostitute you made love you, you convinced that you loved him.”

“Luba…” you frowned, hoping that the sound of his name would pull him out of this imagined future and remind him that it wasn’t like that.

“It would be a great story to tell. One hell of an achievement. After all, we’re not supposed to feel. We’re supposed to be the ones convincing other people we love them, not getting fucked over ourselves.”

“Where is this coming from?” you snapped, rising up on an elbow to try and better look him in the eye, but he didn’t seem to hear you, completely monologuing now.

“I don’t know if I can stand for it, darling, or stand it. I should never have let myself fall for you in the first place. I tried to resist after you said you loved me. Love just hurts.”

He was crying as he carried on, and you could feel tears of your own starting to stir. You wanted to shut him up, to stop this wild, derailed train and make it clear that it wasn’t real, could never be real. But a doubt lingered in the back of your mind. After all, you had loved others, so maybe he would be just another in a line of people you gave your heart to and took their heart from. It felt different with Luba, sure, but at the time, hadn’t they all?

Suddenly it felt like the walls were closing in on you, like the sheets tangled around your legs were snakes intent on suffocating you. You kicked and thrashed, trying to get them off and eventually threw yourself to your feet.

“Y/N?” Luba was puzzled momentarily, enough to break his melancholy musings, sitting up to watch you.

“I can’t. I can’t do this,” you muttered, raking your finger through the hair at your temples, feeling the sharp sting of your nails on your scalp grounding you. Slowly you drew a deep breath through your nose, letting it shudder out through parted lips. “Maybe I should just go sleep in my room.”

“Can’t do what? Have this conversation? I thought you were all about talking about our feelings?” You frowned at his tone, puzzled why he seemed to be getting angry with you.

“But we’re not,” you choked out past the tears and the crushing weight on your chest. “Not mine anyway. I don’t know who this hypothetical Y/N is in your head Luba, that’s going to move on and break your heart but it’s not me. I love you.”

“But for how long?”

“Is that what this is? You think I’ll leave someday, so you’re pushing me away first? Because that’s not fair.”

He was silent, arms folded over his chest and body angled away from you.

“Luba…” you sighed, sitting back down on the edge of the bed, half facing him. “You’re not just somebody, you’re not replaceable. If someone offered me the choice between everything I wanted in life but without you or nothing at all except you by my side, then the decision would be obvious. There’s no version of reality where I can stand to lose you from my life.”

His posture softened but still he didn’t speak or look at you.

“You are my best friend, and most of the time I think you know me better than I know myself. And you are a part of me. This thing between us is part of me. But I’ve had years for that to blossom and build. If you need more time, or I’m doing something wrong...or you don’t want this, then just say so. Please,” you reached out for one of his hands that was now resting on the mattress and squeezed it gently. “It’s scary, it’s a lot. I know. I’m scared too. Please don’t just shut me out.”

“I am scared,” he admitted. “I don’t know how to do this,” he admitted softly, finally looking at you, with eyes brimming with fresh tears.

“Do what?” you breathed, edging closer, drawn naturally to try and comfort him.

“Be loved.”

“Oh.”

“No one’s ever not wanted something from me.”

Your mind raced. Were you really the first person to care about him for his own sake? Or at least to make him feel that way? And if so, was it pushing too far simply to ask...no...hope that your love was returned?

“I keep waiting to wake up, or for you to finally ask for what you expect in return.”

“Is that why you duck my compliments and try to play everything off like some big joke?”

“Lots of people pay flattery. ‘Luba you’re so beautiful.’ ‘Luba you sound like an angel.’ ‘Luba you fuck me so nice.’ But at the end of the day, I am a thing, for their enjoyment and the praise is part of it.” He shrugged. “They could just as soon fuck the robots but I respond better. I don’t mind it. But sometimes when you start to sound like that…”

He shrugged, looking away again, as if he were ashamed of the admission. “Y/N, I think I love you...I know I do. And…I don’t know.”

You turned now to face him fully, catching his face gently between your hands. “It’s okay, Luba. I love you. And I’m sorry. I’ll try to be better from now on, and be mindful.” You smiled a little teasingly. “No more flattery, I promise.”

You hoped that the gravity of what you were trying to say was clear, even if you were covering it with a joke, the air in the room too heavy not to try to crack the tension. You would need to talk about this again, but not now, not while you were both already upset and tired. For now, all you needed was calm, enough to go to bed.

He laughed, the sound wet from tears and wobbly. “I never said that. And you couldn’t keep that promise if you tried...Geliébte.”

You watched the way his face twitched as he tried the new word, contemplating the way it fit in his mouth and sounded to his ears and then he grinned. You leaned, planting a kiss to the tip of his nose.

“You’re probably right, but I’m taking that as a challenge now, you know. Starting in the morning. For now I should go back to my room, yeah?”

“No,” he hummed, snaking his arm around your waist and pulling you back to him. “You should stay right here, geliébte.”

“That’s not going away any time soon is it?” you laughed as he fell backwards, tugging you down with him.

“Hm, no. I think I like it. Do you?”

He could be calling you a steaming pile of refuse and you’d like it, if it was in that free, comfortable voice he was using, or brought the kind of smile that was on his face. You snuggled closer to his side, pretending like you were thinking about it.

Your cheek fell naturally to rest above his heart, listening to it’s steady beat.

“Yeah. I do. I like it a lot.”

[sorry-apsalar]

Why Wouldn’t I Be Okay?

This was inspired by a post I saw here on Tumblr that I would link if I could find it again but I can't. Anyway the post said something along the lines of 'imagine Bender recording Fry's voice to replay it to himself later. Now imagine him replaying it long after Fry had passed away'. It was supposed to have been a drabble but it ended up being 2k words long (my own fault for the choice of one of memories I decided to include) instead.

~

“Wait, you’re the only friend I have.”

Bender paused, turning to look back at Fry. “You really want a robot for a friend?” There was no way that could be true because what human in their right mind wanted to be friends with a robot?

“Yeah, ever since I was six.” He looked and sounded completely honest. Bender would’ve suspected it was an attempt at a cruel trick if it wasn’t for the fact Fry had just got done mistaking a suicide booth for a place to make phone calls and not realized the mistake until it had almost killed him; no way someone that stupid could fake being genuine so well. Meaning not only did he want a robot as a friend, he’d already decided that the two of them were friends. … Bender had never had a friend before so…

“Well okay, But I don’t want people thinking we’re robo-sexuals so if anyone asks, you’re my debugger.” Why not give this whole friendship thing a go? If it didn’t work out or he got bored of it, the suicide booth would still be there.

Bender sighed as he stopped the recording. It was crazy how much his life had changed that day all thanks to his chance encounter with Fry and then on a whim deciding to agree with Fry’s decision that they were friends. It wasn’t often he cared to take time to appreciate that but today was certainly a good day for it. … It was a good day for a lot of things.

The heater elements made him run uncomfortably hot and slowed down his other systems a bit but it was nowhere near bad enough to risk damage or automatic shutdown. A little bit of discomfort was worth it because his plan had worked; Fry had cuddled up to him without argument, complaint, or even much hesitation.

Fry was soft and squishy pressed up against Bender’s side. With an arm wrapped so firmly around him, Bender could feel his breathing. It was slowing and evening out as the last of the tension melted from his body. A quick furtive glance revealed that his eyes were closed now too; he was sleeping or in the process of falling asleep. Which wasn’t surprising the cold that had settled in their apartment after Bender had gutted the space heater had woken him several hours earlier than normal, especially for their day off. But it was still nice to see he was comfortable enough with Bender to fall asleep so quickly while they were cuddling like this. If only this could be a regular thing. …

Oh fuck, Bender was hopelessly in love, wasn’t he? Though he probably should’ve realized that upon coming up with this plan and deciding to do it, huh? Not that it mattered how or why he realized because…

Bender pulled himself out the memory. Looking back on it now, he almost couldn’t believe how he’d been so thoroughly convinced that there was no hope of that love being reciprocated. Him and Fry were basically the perfect match.

“I like you for you,” Fry said looking directly at Bender. “You’re great and you’re my best friend. And I love spending time with you whether we’re off on a space adventure or just lazing around the apartment watching TV together. So, I’d like to be more than just friends if that’s what you want too. If not, that’s… okay too, I’d understand.”

Bender did want that even if he’d never dared to actually hope for it. Before he said ‘yes’ though… “Oh, hmmm… what else do you like about me?” There was no way he could ever pass up an opportunity to make Fry say more nice things about him.

“You’re always fun to talk to and you’ve got great ideas for ways to pass the time when we’re bored. And even though you steal my wallet all the time, you always give it back eventually. And you’re a robot and that’s still super cool even if I’m used to robots by now because you were the first one I met and I wasn’t lying when I said I’d always wanted a robot for a best friend. So really by being my pal, you’re fulfilling a lifelong dream of mine. I’ve never thought about dating one before now though, it just never occurred to me until after that uh… kiss experiment we did.”

“Go on.”

Fry gave him a slightly annoyed look that only increased Bender’s enjoyment of the moment. “You’re also very confident, especially in yourself. And you’re also super strong, you can bend metal like it’s made of paper which is super cool. And sometimes you use that strength to open jars for me and sometimes you don’t even make fun of me for not being able to open it myself. Also, even despite our occasional disagreements, we always make up eventually and then we’re friends again like nothing ever happened and… that’s really nice. So… will you go out with me?” He held a hand out towards Bender, offering it.

Ah shit, Bender couldn’t drag this out any longer, could he? He wasn’t programmed to be able to handle emotional situations, heck he wasn’t programmed to have emotions at all. How did he say ‘yes’ without coming off as awkward and desperate? Or without fucking up his chances some other way? ... He had to say or do something! …

“Well, if you’re going to butter me up that much, I suppose we can go on one date and see what happens.” He couldn’t help but look away as he put his hand in Fry’s. That hadn’t exactly come out how he would’ve…

Fry’s grip on Bender’s hand tighter as he yanked him closer. “Can I kiss you again? For real this time, not just as an experiment?” Their bodies were very close now, enough that he could’ve just done it without asking. He didn’t even need to as far was Bender was concerned.

“I just agreed to go on a date with you meatbag, what do you think?”

Fry didn’t do it though, nor did he say anything. He was far too cute and sweet for his own good. It was endearing though.

Bender sighed. “Yes moron, you can kiss me again.”

Finally Fry kissed him again. His lips were warm and soft, an odd sensation but a pleasant one. And just like last time it was over before Bender was really ready for it to be.

“Better than last time?” Fry asked, his face flushing a little.

“A little.” And the first one had already been pretty good, even if Bender would never admit to it.

If only Bender could actually relive any of these moments. The visuals and audio were crystal clear and his recall of his emotions and internal thoughts were also recorded perfectly but it was still just a memory that he was choosing to play the full recording of in his head. No matter how much he wished he could sink into them as if they were happening in real time, he couldn’t. With another useless sigh, he started playing the next one.

As casually as he physically could, Bender strode over to stand by Fry as he hosed down the ship.

Fry turned his head to look at him with a smile. “I didn’t think you’d show up again until after the ship was done being cleaned.”

Bender hadn’t known that that was happening otherwise he would’ve stayed hidden for a while longer. “Eh, it’s whatever, Leela’s not around to order me to help so I don’t have to. But uh… I have a gift for you.”

Fry gave him a skeptical look. “It’s not another thing you stole that you’re giving to me so I get in trouble instead of you, is it?”

“Nope and for once I actually mean that. I did steal it though. But it was a while ago, I doubt anyone cares anymore so you probably won’t get in trouble for having it.”

He didn’t look completely convinced but after a couple seconds hesitation, Fry shrugged as he placed the hose on the ground and turned to face Bender fully. “All right then, what is it?”

Already in his hand and hidden behind his back, Bender pulled out the ring box. With a practiced flick of his wrist, he flipped open the lid so that Fry could see the big fancy ring inside. “Will you marry me?”

His eyes widening, Fry gasped. “I uh… yes, yes of course!”

Bender had expected a ‘yes’ – why wouldn’t Fry want to marry him? – but the enthusiasm was appreciated. Being excited about it was maybe a bit silly but -

“You okay Bender?”

With a jolt, Bender stopped the recording and opened his eyes. Cubert and Dwight hovered in front of him with worried expressions. Which just wasn’t right because they looked like their fathers now – especially Cubert because he was clone – neither of whom had ever been concerned about Bender, or at least not enough to look at him like that. How their sons had grown up to be such softies was a mystery, an annoying one.

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be okay?” Bender didn’t bother getting up from the couch in hopes that they’d leave soon.

“Well,” Cubert said, “You stayed overnight at work again. That’s not something people who are okay typically do.”

“Or maybe I just arrived before you did.” Bender had meant to leave the breakroom and head to probably the basement instead before they’d arrived but they’d just had to come in an hour early.

Dwight sighed and shook his head. “Also, according to my records it’s the one-year anniversary of… well… uh… you know. So it makes sense that you’re not okay, especially today.”

The one-year anniversary of Fry’s death. By some miracle he’d been the last to go, outliving even Leela by almost two whole years. It had been inevitable though, even modern science could only keep him alive for so long. And thus Bender had known it was coming from the very start and had seen all their friends die one by one… he’d never been ready to face it though, still wasn’t.

Despite that, he scoffed and rolled his eyes. “It’s been a year, I’m over it. Meatbags die, it’s one of the things they’re most known for. So I’m over all their deaths, including and especially his.”

Neither of them believed him. In fact, they looked at him with even more sadness and worry than before as if he were some poor lonely sap to be pitied. “It’s okay to grieve,” Cubert said. “You don’t have to be ashamed of it, we miss him and everyone else too. And we know how much you two loved each other.”

Dwight looked like he was going to say something in agreement but before he could get a single annoying word out, Bender stood up. “I have work to do.” He went past them and left the room, heading for the ship hanger.

Only one of the two company ships were in. The other was due to return sometime today and when it did, the team crewing it would probably have something for him to do. If not and probably if so as well, he’d be sure to be part of the crew going on the next mission because he needed the distraction. Hopefully it’d be a long one too so he’d have an excuse to continue to not return to his empty apartment.

Ugh, he was actually looking to do work for once and hoping it’d take a long time. That’s how far he’d fallen this past year. … He could delete his memories of Fry and all his friends – he even missed Zoidberg and Scruffy, something he never would’ve predicted. It’d hurt so much less if he did. With help he could even delete them so thoroughly that he wouldn’t even know anything had been deleted.

But… meeting and befriending Fry had irrevocably changed his life.  Those memories not only included his happiest, they were also the majority of his life at this point. What would he be like if he did delete them? … Impossible to say and… he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. So… for now, he’d continue to live with them and continue to hope that maybe one day they’d hurt less.

[neo-culture-mafia]

떨어지는 시체

previous chapter

박 지성 Park Jisung

I watched as my friends flung themselves from the top of the rotunda. Their bodies smacked the pavement in front of me like bags of bricks. No life or fight left in their bodies once they met the ground.

"Jisung, get back!" I felt Chenle grab me and pull. My feet didn't want to flee as I watched more and more bodies hit the ground. Where my friends and I would sit and wait for meetings to begin.

This floor was now their final resting place.

"We have to go. I know, Ji. They were your friends. But we have to go now." Johnny grabbed my shoulders to start pulling. Some of my teachers joined my classmates as the falling bodies seemed endless.

"You're getting on a plane to Chicago. You'll meet one of my old friends there. You need to follow and trust him, Jisung. Jeno and the boys will be with you. You trust them and only them." Johnny grabbed my frame one last time. "Do you understand me, Jisung?" He asked as I could only nod in a robotic form.

He grabbed my hand and started running.

The halls of the base never seemed so long as I am currently dragged at the expense of Johnny's speed.

"Don't stop. It's okay. Don't stop." I still don't know if Johnny is saying that for me or himself. More of the boys began running with us as they were putting on vests and loading their weapons.

We finally made it to the front gate where we were ushered into a van with Lucas driving. "We're getting out of here. Let's go. Yuta's base is still untouch-" The bullet came through the windshield and hit Lucas in his upper arm. My screams were capped by Renjun's hand. "Back inside!" Johnny yelled and Jeno leads the group of us back inside.

Foreign looking soldiers walked past us with tattoos we were taught to fear. We weren't going to get out of here.

"Let's go." One of them said and tried dragging Jeno. We watched as Jeno was doing his most to fight the man off of him. "Yo get the fuck off of me," Jaemin yelled as he was being restrained by a man behind him.

I didn't have a clear thought for myself as I was being restrained too. I didn't fight. I couldn't. I didn't have the brain capacity to try and figure out how to get out of the grip.

"Let's go." A man snarled behind me and began dragging me down the hallway. We passed the entranceways along the rotunda meeting floor. I could see Taeyong talking to an equally decorated man. They were shaking hands.

I traveled behind the wall and the next thing I saw, the man lit a match and set ablaze to the bodies that were in their final resting place. "No! They're my friends!" Taeyong and the man looked at me. I could look back to see all of us were being dragged in different directions. "Taeyong! Please! Help me!" I yelled but he looked away into the fire like he couldn't see me.

"Taeyong! Please!" I was thrown into the wall by the man. I still screamed and cried my lungs out. The fuzzy feeling in my head didn't subside until we turned into one of the classrooms. It was empty and spray painted stained the walls. I was pushed onto the ground as the door slammed behind me.

Nothing. Nothing to use and try to escape. It was only me.

My heart started racing as the lights were cut off. It was still daylight and the barred windows let light in...but it would be setting soon.

I could hear some of the other boy's scream in the hall. We were taken different directions but put in the same vicinity.

I banged on the wall and began kicking. I knew the walls were made with concrete, but I was praying that maybe I would kick hard enough to just maybe crack it and see who was next to me.

"I'm going to kill all of you when I get out of here!" I could hear Jaemin scream from close by. "Please let me out!" I called again. "Jisung?!" Jaemin answered. "I'm in here!" Like he could tell where I was even though I couldn't tell if he was beside or across from me.

"Where is everyone else?!" I heard Jaemin scream. "I'm next to Jisung!" Jeno's voice rang out from the right side of me. "Renjun is next to me too!" Jeno yelled. "Where is Lele?" Jeno screamed.

"Chenle! Chenle!" I started running towards the other wall of my room. Nothing. No response.

Where was he? Was he killed? I can't lose him too. I can't lose anyone else.

I gripped the sides of my head as I felt the constricting feeling in my chest. The quick breathing made my head dizzy. No. Not here. Please not here.

"Chenle." It felt as if I screamed but I knew it was quiet.

I sat on the floor next to the door waiting for someone to come in and let me out but I knew it wasn't going to be happening any time soon.

"Chenle," I called again but I knew nobody would be answering me.

~~~~~ The next time I awoke, the room was pitch black. I scrambled to my feet and started banging on the door and walls. "I'm still in here! Let me out!" Yet, nobody responded this time. Not even the boys.

"Jeno!" "Renjun!" I screamed and it was met with the sound of silence. Nothing.

The next thing I knew, I saw a flashlight coming towards the door, getting brighter and brighter. I heard keys and then I was in a stare-off with a man I had never seen before. "Jisung?" He asked and I could only nod in fear.

He grabbed my collar and pulled me down the hall. "How old are you, Jisung?" He asked and I gulped. "18," I answered and I could hear him chuckle. "Young enough."

My eyes widened and we turned down the hallway where all the offices were. We stopped into the elite's office and all the boys were in there. From Kun and Xiaojun to Jungwoo and Chenle.

Chenle was more tied up than everyone else. I didn't shock me though. He is an escape artist. I guess he was harder to restrain than the rest of us.

"Found the baby bunny cooped up in a classroom." Taeyong was the only one who wasn't tied up. He stood next to the man from earlier. "Oh, he would be perfect." the man came over and touched my face. I tried to swat his hands away yet they were restrained by the man from earlier.

"He'll be sold. In the second batch going to the seller in Spain." My face drained of all color and the boys were either frozen or trying harder to get out of the restraints.

My face went cold and drained of all color. Some of the boys had the same expression while some got angrier and tried harder to break out.

"Sold?" I asked. "I swear to god if you touch him I will break every single one of your goddamn fingers." Jaehyun started rocking his chair further and further.

"Does this look familiar to you, Taeyong?" Jaehyun screamed as he finally toppled over in his chair.

Taeyong looked away as if he had heard nothing but the wind. "Mark him, just like the others." I looked to the boys to see them look down and squeeze their eyes shut.

"Mark? Wh-what?" I asked but I was kicked to my knees and the back of my shirt was lifted. I didn't have time to register anything before a searing and burning pain was radiating from my lower back. I screamed at the top of my lungs and began begging for this to be over.

As quickly as it started-- it stopped. I was picked up and taken to a chair right in between Chenle and Jeno.

I sat down and was restrained, but even if I wasn't. I had no fight left in me. The men who weren't restrained talked amongst themselves and Taeyong fit right in.

"I wish I was Mark right now." I heard Chenle whisper. "Don't say something like that." Jeno hissed. "I would rather have my brains blown out by myself than my back blown out by an old man," Chenle said and started to fight his restraints even more-- if that was even possible.

Jeno hung his head in shame. "I'm so sorry, guys." His voice broke. "There's nothing to apologize for. It's all Taeyong's fault." Jaemin said as his voice radiated at the end.

Eyes turned to stare for a moment before they retreated to their conversations once again.

The fatigue in my body seemed endless as it was hard to keep my head up at this point. "I wish Mark was here." I sighed and the Junior Forces froze. "We all do, Jisung. But it's okay. At least he's not here, suffering." Jeno concluded and we all hummed in agreement.

"I don't want to get sold." I shook my head as the reality set in. "You are not going to be sold. I promise." Jeno nudged my foot with his. "You too, Lele. That's never going to happen." Jeno said and Chenle could only huff in agreement.

"Hey! What about me! They said they would sell me too." Renjun said from the other side of Jeno. "Renjun, we don't even want you for free. Why would someone pay to have you?" Jeno said and Renjun got pissed as it all put a smile on our faces. "If my hands were free I would slap the shit out of you, right now." Renjun threatened. "Well, I'm sitting right here." They continued to provide us entertainment while I could tell the men in charge were getting annoyed.

"Shut up! All of you!" Taeyong yelled. "Oh suck a d-" "YOU shut the fuck up-" "Who are you again?" We all screamed our anger at him and he closed his mouth very quickly.

We all died down and just sat there. "No. Honestly. I will do everything I can to make sure that you are all safe and get out of here alive." Jeno reassured.

"You've already done enough, dude. You got us through the first months and then you resigned your title so Mark could go back. You helped us look for Mark and y/n. And you put their memorials together by yourself. You reassumed your title and you lead us on so many more missions after that. You've done everything for us." Chenle tried to comfort Jeno. We could all tell that the words went to Jeno's heart.

"Alright. This side of the room. You'll be going to work. This side. You'll be transported out of this base." The line was split with Jaemin being with the older elites and I was with Jeno, Chenle, Renjun, and Kun.

We were all picked up and walked in different directions at once. "Stick with them. Be safe, and don't get yourself killed! We'll see each other soon." Jeno yelled towards Jaemin. "Yeah yeah yeah, I'll try." He blabbed off Jeno's worry.

Jeno walked next to me as we lead the line. We exited the halls and came back to the rotunda floor.

The aching in my chest finally stopped as the smell of burnt flesh didn't make me want to vomit anymore.

[poptod]

hey again! i was wondering if u could do an elliot x reader, kinda like an enemies to lovers, where he thinks they’re an average person until they outsmart him which both impresses and pisses him off? but like sweet at the end? also from his pov so that we can hear his little monologues? i’m a sucker for happy endings. thanks and love ur writing

notes: sorry this is a tad late again. had a rough morning. i know nothing about cyber security and absolutely nothing about mr robot. i tried my best thank u for requesting :) hope you like it

++

Be it the end of days, Elliot would not call upon you. Of course he wouldn't – he barely knew you, only your name and face and the position you held relative to him. Another worker much like himself, just far more normal than him, and far less intelligent than him. That fact didn't stem from any specific dislike for you; just the truth. Among your coworkers you did not stand out, a tactic he often wished he had.

You were barely on his radar, at least not until the question of method came up during a meeting. Some hellhole business had hired them for cyber protection, and out of all those gathered at the tables, Gideon called upon you and him for answers. Elliot suggested the method they usually used – application security. You did not. Instead, with the tip of a pen pressed delicately against your chin, you told Gideon and those present that it'd be a better idea to use network security. Not a massive difference, but a big enough one that your suggestion irked him. The way you said it, too – "I think network would be better," so kind and sweet, a facade so heavy Elliot was surprised you still had a job.

For some strange reason your boss agreed with you.

And you ended up being right.

And suddenly, you became a lot more of an important person in his life, in the definition that he hated you. He payed more attention, and with that he noticed something he should've known all along. You were smart. Like him.

You were smart – so what? Confusion persisted when he tried to think of why that irritated him so terribly. Maybe it was because you remained normal. The two of you were equals, so why did he have issues? Where were yours? From everything he'd noted of you, and as of recent that was quite a lot, you were perfectly fine. No anxiety, no nightmarish mental disturbances, no addictions, no loneliness – kindness was your 'thing'.

Maybe he was just jealous.

The thought stewed like sick in his head as you laughed, the soft sound coming from the break room to his desk, just to make his fist curl and his jaw grind. This feeling, it felt... less than normal. Just like every single fucking thing about him, and he dug his nails further into his palm.

Be it the end of days, Elliot would not trust you. It couldn't be real – you never cried, you never looked stressed, and though you weren't always smiling you were certainly never frowning. Of course, he only noticed this while at work. After hours he found your various online accounts, and what starts as pure curiosity turns into a search for your records, wondering if there's anything that's ever been wrong with you.

Beautiful hair, soft skin, shining eyes, and a smile that could melt ice away from even his heart. No, nothing wrong there. Happy parents, no sign of disability, financial security. Nothing wrong there either. Good friends, useful hobbies, beautiful eyes. Beautiful eyes, saccharine like warm honey and sweet mints. He shakes his head, clearing his thoughts and waving away the people in his head, redirecting his attention to trying to get your medical records. Just out of curiosity. He doesn't get it – at least not that night, but he knows he'll get it eventually. Just a matter of time, and it's better than simply asking you, an act he would never find approachable.

On Thursday, despite his own leanings, he does actually talk to you. For the first time, and it's quite a lot harder to hate you when you smile and listen carefully to the words he says like they're the most important thing in the world. He'd expected your upfront kindness to be rude and subtle, that passive aggressive thing rich people loved to use. It's still polite, of course it is – you don't know him, although he'd bet he knows you. Nonetheless you act like you don't know him, and while most people would consider it a hindrance to conversation, you use it to your advantage.

You ask him if he's comfortable as though it's a normal question. You make sure you aren't bothering him, you ask if he wants to talk about the project, you respect every boundary he sets, you wait for him to respond as he talks to himself in his head, but the most surprising part is that somehow it feels normal. Like these are normal questions to ask, like you do this with everyone, and by the end of it he's wondering if you actually do do it for everyone.

Later you ask him if he wants to go out with some of your coworkers for a drink. He says no, you don't try to get him to come, and you give him the option of coming later if he wants to. You also tell him he's welcome on any other evening out. Over the next couple weeks you stay true to your word – you ask him if he wants to come, and one evening he says yes. Not out of any pressure from you, just simple curiosity to your behavior outside the workplace.

Turns out you aren't all that different. You keep up that rule of comfort, and as you meet multiple people in the crowded bar he wonders how the hell you keep up with it without bursting out in irritation. Even he can't keep up, and he's one of those specific people, the kind that need alterations to interactions to be comfortable. You hold open the door for those behind you, you bring drinks to those who ask you to carry them, you listen to the stories of strangers and friends alike. You smile almost the entire evening.

And he catches you in that smile, your eyes meeting his. Recognizing him you smile even wider, waving at him as a pleasant blush covers over your cheeks, a genuine happiness to simply be near him in a way that might mean you're friends.

No one smiles when they see him. He's a bit of a horror story in the office, but you smile.

It's a nice feeling.

Be it the end of days, he would not join your life. He's too much of an embarrassment, too much of a fuck-up to exist without guilt in your story, too terrified of hindering your potential. You're perfect, and while at first he didn't believe it to be true it's clear now.

He avoids you for the most part. Ducking out of rooms and meetings, staying right at his desk, leaving work early or late relative to your schedule. At first when you pass by him (rarely with his efforts), you still smiled and waved silently. After a while, you stop smiling, and a little while later you avert your eyes at his presence. He feels horrid for what he does, seeing how you're even now trying to make him comfortable through recognizing his disinterest in you and accordingly growing a faux disinterest in him.

It's not like that unhappiness is always visible – in fact, it rarely shows, only in the moments where your eyes mistakenly meet. However most other hours of the day you're working with that tapping of your foot and the soft humming that he can only hear if he strains. That or talking to your coworkers, helping them through difficult issues and scanning through data.

Even with his special steps made to rid you of his unpleasant life, there are moments where it's unavoidable to in the very least be near each other. Mandatory meetings and office parties that he's roped into, unwillingly of course, but as his coworkers drink you join him on the faraway couch looking over the bustling, tipsy crowd.

"I know you don't like me all that much," you say, words soft and not meeting his eye. You remembered he doesn't like eye contact all that much. "I just want to apologize if I ever said or did anything to offend you. I didn't mean to, you seem like a very kind person."

He scoffs, and in confusion you look to him.

"You know I'm not nice," he mutters almost under his breath, but as always you pay close attention and decipher his words.

"Not to people you don't trust, no. Sometimes people find it hard to trust others and that's perfectly okay," you say with a smile, one that he quickly looks away from. "But you're not cruel. You're actually rather polite when people respect you in return. It's not an uncommon trait at all."

You think he hates you and you're still trying to make him feel better.

"How the hell do you do it?" He finally asks, the words blurting out before he can fully process what they mean. When he hears what he says his heart stops, shivering in the silence of your reply, anxious to see if you'll even answer at all.

"Do what?"

"Be nice. To everyone," he explains himself, growing quiet with each passing second.

Again you pause, thinking on his question before you answer.

"I do get annoyed with people a lot. I don't want to do things for people sometimes, but when people ask of me something I ask myself, 'what do I lose from doing this?' and 'what does this person gain from me doing this?', and usually it doesn't cost me anything, and most times it relieves stress off a lot of people," you say, using small hand gestures as you speak. "That, and it takes very little effort to make sure people are comfortable. Also helps you to get to know the person better, you know? You get a lot information about people when you know what makes them comfortable."

He doesn't know what to say, so he doesn't say anything. Instead he scoffs, stands, and leaves.

Be it the end of days, he would not ask anything of you. You're perfectly happy, and he's mostly satisfied knowing that you're more human than he previously thought. Not fully satisfied – a part of him wants to be close to you, yearns for that warmth you could so easily give him, that kindness in you that he finds so rarely. But he does fine on his own, and so do you, and he finds he doesn't know how to go about becoming friends with you. He doesn't know how, so he doesn't try.

Time passes and he tries to think of you less often, only successful once every two full moons. The rest of the time he looks across the clean-cut cubicles for you, over the grey wasteland for your glow, aching to hear that distant humming again. You come to him in dreams and hallucinations alike, and sometimes he even falls for it. He lets himself believe it, that you'd somehow find your way to his apartment, that you'd be willing to offer familiarity and kindness – even to someone like him.

Fortunately the two of you are on good terms, relatively. Better than they were when he was avoiding you entirely. Now he's just not interacting with you. He's fine being in the same room, hell, he's fine standing next to you, but he doesn't strike up a conversation. Neither do you, and the polite but work-centered relationship continues.

On a rainy evening his boss catches him before he can leave, asking if he could put in a few hours off the clock, and everyone knows bosses never ask. So he sits back down at his desk, thinking bitterly on what he could be doing instead of stuck inside lifeless walls as rain and hail batters hell against the skyscraper windows. Outside, there aren't any lights – he's too high up in the sky to easily see the lights of cars and restaurants on the streets. All he can see is a powered out building's dark windows, so he doesn't linger on the view long.

Slowly most other people file out, but he's not quite done with the assignment. It's not quite right, something's out of place, hidden from his searching eyes that scan the bright screen so ferociously. A burning sensation begins to grow in his head, begging him to return to his home computers where the pixels aren't quite so large. His tie holds a tight rope around his neck, his breathing growing harsh, and the trance of discomfort only broken when the sound of a curse, followed by the slap of a hand against a counter and a choked sob, reaches him.

Peeking over the walls he looks to the break room, the source of the noise, and in the seemingly empty office (completely empty to you), you're curled up on the floor with your hands over your eyes. His breathing halts when another sob wracks through your body, your shoulders shivering with the intensity that holds him in place, unable to look away or to move closer. A screech comes from your shoe when it slides across the linoleum floor, curling your legs tight against your chest.

You're muttering something – something he can't quite hear, but he's spoken the words himself enough times that he thinks he knows what you're saying.

Shut up.

Please be quiet.

Go away.

He knows what that means to him. Breakdowns, unrelenting voices, pushing him and criticizing his every move, but that's him. That's normal for him, he's broken in that way and a dozen others. You're not.

You're not broken at all, and for that a new curiosity blooms in his chest. It's a little sick, but it pushes him to approach you, slow footsteps making themselves clear to ensure you wouldn't jump.

"Hey," he says rather lamely, his voice low and cracking with his insecurity. He's not usually on the giving end of comfort, and to be fair, he's not usually on the receiving end, either.

"I'm sorry," you get out, your tone like the creaking of a rotted door, tired and broken. You keep your face hidden in your hands. "I didn't know you were here."

"It's... I don't mind," he says, this time much more even, and with that clarity you recognize him.

"What are you doing here so late, Elliot?" You ask softly, your breathing beginning to even.

"Gideon asked me to," he answers. "You?"

"Needed to look over some coding," you mumble, finally raising your head from your hands. Strands of hair stick to your skin, wet from tears and blushing from the heat of your hands.

Shifting slightly, he moves from a knelt position to a sitting one, his legs crossed as he sat in front of you, using that patience you so often had and this time using it to your advantage. He can wait – it doesn't cost him anything, and it would mean the world to you.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He asks quietly when you fully get your breathing under control.

"Thank you," you murmur, staring at the ground beside him. "You ever have.. these thoughts, they... bad thoughts, that just keep on telling you to do bad things?"

"... yes," he answers hesitantly.

"You can't tell anyone this," you add quietly, to which he fully agrees. He's giving a part of himself here, too. "... but it's worse than that. They can put these visions in my eyes, it's usually manageable. Bugs that aren't there. Ghost fingers on my face and back. Sometimes it gets bad though, and it wouldn't be so bad if I didn't have to keep it secret. I could get fired, you know."

"I know," he says almost automatically, but he does know what it's like. To question what's real, never knowing if those words in your head are your own, unable to see past the charade of a reality. "I get them too," he says, and immediately he knows he's chosen the right words for once.

"Thank you for telling me," you say, always a mediator between the worlds people make up in their minds. "It really does make me feel better that I'm not alone."

You're emotional. He knows that, he knows you're interested in the emotions of yourself and others, but only now does he realize it's actually clinical kindness. Respect above all, thank you for the littlest things, and a plain explanation of your own emotions. Maybe it makes it easier for you – he knows he certainly appreciates it. Sometimes it's hard to decipher facial emotions, and having you tell him straight lets him skip past that uncertainty and into a place he knows he can help from.

Be it the end of days, he would protect you. You're like him, and he's like you, and while the differences are too clear to those viewing your friendship, there's actually more similarities than differences. Sure, you're wonderful with social interactions, but you also hear voices, like him. You have breakdowns, like him, you handle your emotions with very specific preferences.

Somehow you become part of him – the innocent part, the part worth saving, and that's why he would protect you. You're a part of him in a way that makes him think maybe I'm not all bad, as long as the part that isn't bad is you. He lets you in bit by bit, inviting you to his apartment on a whim, even letting you cook dinner for the two of you.

You stay over one night. Not on purpose, but you fall asleep on the floor, facing the buzzing television with your dirty plate beside you. Keeping quiet he takes both your plates, leaving them in the kitchen before joining you on the floor. Hesitantly he raises his hand, reaching for you with delicate fingers aiming to brush the stray hairs falling upon your sleeping face. He does just so, taking in a moment where he can touch you without fear. Where it's just you, no crying thoughts on how you might despise this time spent with him, how you hate the way he moves and speaks – it's just you.

And you've turned into everything.

The flowers growing in the cracks of cement. The rain that patters against the forest canopy, slipping past the leaves, mist creeping up through the mountain's valley. The sun that shines warm against his clothes and melts sweet ice cream. The bird song in a city park. The mother with her child. The poetry of old and new poets, the bubbles in soda, handwritten words on rough parchment. You are the paint on the hands of budding artists, the soft pillowcases of a bed loved by a decades-old couple, the posters hanging in a teenager's room, every lovely thing in the world, every action, scent, feeling, and taste imbued with a life given by those who adore their worlds so dearly.

Be it the end of days, he would love you, and nothing more.

[anxiouslyfred]

Selling a Soulmate

Completely Inspired by this post from @writing-prompt-s and @chaos-by-all-means

Pattons sells Virgil’s soul to a demon, that demon and their soulmate are extremely angry when they don’t find Patton while following the soul connection. Virgil just got 2 new demonic soulmates of Deceit and Remus

/\/\/\/\/\

Patton thought it was all for the best, after all Virgil constantly made jokes about wanting to die, or just going to hell for more continuous torture as if that’s all he had in life. They’d been soulmates for years and he still couldn’t get Virgil to stop.

So he was selling a soul to a demon, for the chance to look after his family and friends, to actually be the perfect dad friend to them all and make them feel better, face the struggles of the world down and keep standing too. If that meant Virgil actually would be destined for hell now, well those jokes always did seem to serious to Patton.

Deceit and Remus had always known that soulmates had some ownership over each others souls, and could in fact bargain each others souls when making deals. No demon had ever heard of that actually happening.

Then they followed the soul link that came from Deceit’s deal with the human Patton to find someone neither had seen ever before.

“You’re definitely Patton.” Deceit was glaring between the strand of connection and the man, curled on his bed in a hoodie and clutching a letter.

“Apparently so, given his letter is only saying that all those jokes I make about going to hell can come true as I wished. Who the fuck actually wishes something like that and what the hell does he mean? If it’s a break up letter then that’s one hell of away to tell your fucking soulmate they’re dumped.” The man barely even looks up, tears brimming even as he glares at the page.

“Soulmates? I mean I do some twisted things with the souls I get from deals but that’s dark.” Remus comments quietly, knowing his pairing with Deceit is unusual since most demons ignore any compulsions to their soulmates and that he technically shouldn’t even be there.

Deceit just moves closer to the bed. “What’s your name, Patton’s soulmate?”

“If he didn’t tell you when he invited you in that’s even more stupid. I’m Virgil but whatever.” Virgil does glance up at the two people, barely taking any of their appearance in before turning to grab a robot plush toy. “Logan always used to warn that Patton only understood his brand of puns and would take my dark jokes too seriously after a while. Who are you?”

Deceit turns to share a heavy look with Remus, deciding if the words they want to say will be echoed but Remus is already moving to take the letter from Virgil’s hands.

“We’re your new soulmates, Remus and Deceit. Not sure what nonsense Patton’s been writing but it’s this weird rare quirk thing that can happen.” The explanation makes no sense, a lot of the things Remus starts without thinking through don’t really, but at least this time he’s on the same page as Deceit.

“In a manner of speaking at least, we are indeed your new soulmates. I was hoping to be able to take you out this evening, but if you need time to process what ever Patton wrote to you we understand.” Deceit’s words are smooth, offering but not demanding and they’re only hoping the rage that’s going through them isn’t showing in their eyes.

Virgil had looked to Deceit as Remus moved and while part of him wanted to believe them and relax, he could see fury waiting to burst out of Remus, especially as he read the letter, and there were small echoes of anger in the one called Deceit too. “You wouldn’t be angry if some weird quirk had given you a new soulmate. Why should I trust you when I can still only feel the connection to Patton?”

The mention of his anger is enough to set Remus off, unleashing a hundred attacks to the walls, windows and door to the room, form shifting as his fury is too much to remain consistently human now it’s being released. Deceit had made to intervene then, but all they could do was stay on the bed and keep Virgil there too.

Virgil is shying away from them both at the change, recognising Remus as so many creatures he’d read conspiracies about over the years, and wishing he’d never spoken. He doesn’t feel at threat, but he feels terrified.

Four hours ago he had woken up to Patton’s clothes emptied from the cupboards and a letter that left him feeling like the world was ending, like the anxiety Patton had insisted countless times wouldn’t change his love had driven his soulmate away finally. He’d felt confused and heartbroken.

Half an hour ago Patton had called him, laughing and making puns all around wishes coming true. Virgil hadn’t understood why or how someone could call his self-deprecating jokes wishes anymore then than he had while reading the letter, but knew Logan had said something about it before. The mention that Virgil should expect a guest had only confused him more.

Now there were two beings, basically strangers, trying to claim they were his new soulmates and destroying the room. Nothing felt safe and everything seemed likely to kill him or suck out his soul and leave his body just a husk. He wanted to fight and scream but couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, could barely think as one stranger tried to shield him on the bed while the other raged.

A whimper breaking through Virgil’s lips finally calmed the storm. Remus flipping on a dime, from raging to comforting, but keeping his distance now. “Darling, if you’ll have us, we will be your new soulmates, far better than Patton ever was.”

“But you’re demons.” Virgil can only assume both of them are demons, despite Deceit still looking completely human. Why else would they be talking for each other?

Deceit just nods, wanting to twist words but knowing that blunt honesty would help them more in this moment. “And I had your soul sold to me. Technically, if I wanted I could easily make it truth when Remus says you’re now our soulmate, and given that I cannot believe even the most selfish person would do what Patton has done, I’m sorely tempted to.”

“That’s what he meant by my jokes about going to hell being wishes that come true?” More tears and pain hit Virgil then as he realises that not only had Patton broken up with him, he’d literally sold him, and whatever was brought couldn’t be equal to what Virgil had thought they had.

The creature, whatever he was now was leaning over to Virgil, a limb he didn’t want to identify wiping the tears away before they fell. “Let us court you Sweet thing. We’ll be your soulmates now.”

Virgil’s life and his room were suddenly in shambles where the day before he’d thought things could be improving. He’d been abandoned and learnt that abandonment included getting sold. He’d already spent the day crying but here were two beings, two demons who while they definitely had violent reactions showed no chance of them being directed at him. 

Nothing seemed real and everything seemed doomed and Virgil could almost hear Logan telling him not to make life changing decisions when emotionally compromised but his friend wasn’t there then. His friend had been unable to comfort him when Virgil had called up to ask for help after first reading the letter.

Looking at Deceit,still kneeling on the bed and looking at Remus, slowly regaining a more humanoid form, Virgil nodded. “Okay, yes, if - if that’s - if you actually mean it when you say you want me as a soulmate despite being such a fuck up even Patton couldn’t stay with me, you can do that, just let me keep Logan, let me keep whatever friends won’t expect me to be around someone who sold me.”

“Come here, Raindrop. I’ll make you ours now.” Deceit just nods, gathering Virgil into their arms while bringing their powers to the surface. Changing the binds of soulmates could be difficult, but Virgil’s was already weakened, first by Patton using it to sell a soul that wasn’t his and now by Virgil’s own honest agreement. Their eyes beaming golden yellow and the scales shining through their form were all the outward signs that anything changed, but Virgil gasping as the connection changed from one of a brought soul to a soulmate was warming.

Deceit has accepted a deal for ‘a soul’ precisely once, and he got a new soulmate from it. Ever since then Remus and they have been precise in wording every deal for the persons specific soul. If someone wants to sell their soulmate then they’ll have to find a different demon.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Reunion: Kauri and Keira

CW: Kauri is surviving domestic violence, and he is still trapped in a lot of self-loathing and victim-blaming about it. Please stay safe, his thought processes can be fucky. Referenced noncon/dubcon. Electric shock treatment, frank discussion of domestic abuse with a robot.

The Colton referenced belongs to @shameless-whumper / @the-host-and-colton.

Tagging Kauri’s crew:  @maybeawhumpblog, @pepperonyscience, @haro-whumps, @18-toe-beans, @burtlederp, @finder-of-rings, @giggly-evil-puppy, @whimpers-and-whumpers, @moose-teeth, @whump-it, @lumpofwhump, @pumpkinthefangirl, @spiffythespook, @slaintetowhump

Kauri can feel the pain, buzzing relentlessly in his fingertips, long after Owen puts his phone away. Days later it’s still there, a heat along his collarbone, a constant reminder of the little metal circles, pretty little things with the tiny blue bits that look like inset glass. You’d never know what they were, if you didn’t already.

If Owen didn’t tell you.

He told everyone, though. Every-fucking-one. He sent photos to at least fifteen people of Kauri shirtless with his collarbone on display, tear tracks still drying on his flushed face, blue eyes red-rimmed from the pain, eyes slightly squinted against the headache that came on after the shocks had gone on so long. He sent them videos of Kauri collapsing to the ground as soon as the shock began, curling into himself, twitching and jerking and convulsing for one second, two seconds, three, four endless fucking seconds-

Then he stopped, and filmed Kauri, twitching, still leaning into his touch when he crouched to pet his hair, murmuring soothing comforting things into his ear, like it was real, like he really cared, and Owen had never really cared at all.

Part of Kauri was desperate to believe he still did. 

I can’t believe they didn’t come up with this sooner, this is amazing, Owen had all but crowed to the crying, curled up boy on his hallway floor, his thumbs flying over his expensive, paper-thin phone’s screen. Don’t worry, Kor-Bore. You look fucking gorgeous like that.

Kauri can’t remember if he’d even attempted to reply. His muscles had been contracting and releasing without his consent, without his input, aftershocks of familiar pain racing through his nerves. All he could do was leak tears and little hitching sobs onto Owen’s expensive floor.

He cried less from the pain than he did from who was inflicting it, the reality that the night he’d thought he was going to die hadn’t been enough to make Owen think he’d been punished. This had had to happen, too.

And he’d been… he’d been so good, right? Except for just the once. He’d done one thing wrong, just one single fucking thing. He’d been so good, he’d done everything Owen ever wanted. He’d learned every trick and seduction in training, he’d gone to Owen willowy and flexible, perfect for every single thing he wanted to do to him. He couldn’t say no when it mattered, when he wanted to. Half the time he didn’t even want to. He’d been good and obedient and loved him and he’d done it all right.

All he did was send one tiny little message. Just one. And… and he didn’t think Owen even knew about that, he’d never mentioned it. All of this - everything Kauri was living through - it was all because Owen had caught him reading.

The only thing he’d done to make Owen angry was read, like everyone else. Everyone got to read, but not Kauri. All he’d done was read what people were saying about him, and Owen… had done this.

He’d read those comments to the Host’s video, and sent a message to Colton. That was all he’d done. Not such big things, he thought, not really. Right? Just one teeny tiny little message. He didn’t even know what it was. He didn’t even get to remember why it had felt so worth it to tempt Owen’s anger. It wasn’t fucking fair. It wasn’t fair that Kauri had to live like this now and he didn’t even get to know why, and it must not have gotten back to Owen because the shock implants were all he’d done. 

One wrong step.

One moment where Kauri had moved out of line.

He’d fucked up just the once, exactly once in his time here, and Owen had nearly choked him to death, had hurt him over and over on the living room floor next to the laptop with its screen showing an argument in the comments, over how fucking lucky Box Boys were to get to live like this-

Now he sits on the little outside patio chair like he used to, but there’s no plants on the balcony and Keira is gone and Kauri is barely holding a scream back behind his teeth. Owen had promised new plants - you just made me so mad, Kauri, I couldn’t take it, you understand why I had to take it out on something.

He nods and he nods and he nods to the things Owen say, and his heart twists at Owen’s tears, and he wishes he’d never ever had a thought of his own at all. He’s better empty-headed. The bad things don’t happen when he doesn’t think. 

He can’t stop now that he’s started. He can’t stop thinking it was supposed to be better than this, somehow. That maybe - rebellious and thin as the thought is, and he’s scared to have it - maybe Colton was right.

Don’t believe their lies.

If he had, though, if he’d just believed everything he was told and trained to do… Kauri presses his hand against the little metal circles spaced evenly along his collarbone, feeling the low residual ache there, and bites his lower lip. If he’d just believed everything Owen said, he wouldn’t have had to go back.

This wouldn’t have happened.

Would that have been better?

He tilts his head back, looking up at the clear and perfect sky, thinking that he used to watch the stars, but tonight he feels like all he can see is the empty dark nothing between them. His fingers tap in rhythm on the arm of the chair, but he doesn’t know what he’s saying, he never knows what he’s saying, if he’s even saying anything at all. 

Tap tap tap. Tap taaaaaap. Tap tap tap taaaap tap.

Taaap taaaaap tap.

Kauri wants to throw the other chair over the balcony and shriek, tell the stars and the sky about how hard he tried to be good, how he had been everything Owen wanted from the moment he stepped out of his box. All he’d done was maybe think, for just a second, that he was allowed to have his own mind.

He knows better now, and it still won’t be enough for Owen to feel safe. Owen will never stop thinking that Kauri is going to walk out the door, no matter what he says or does or thinks or feels, he will never be able to make up for the fact that Vincent Shield walked out the door before.

He has to play second fiddle to someone he’s never met, someone who broke Owen in some fundamental way, and it’s not fucking fair.

Maybe Owen was broken before Vince. Maybe Vince was right to run, then, even if it led Owen straight to me.

He can’t be Vince, no matter that he’ll answer to his name in bed or when there are hands wrapped around his neck, tighter and tighter, cutting off air as his head slams back into the floor, black spots taking over the sight of Owen’s lips curled back from his teeth, the rictus of rage and grief on the handsome face that Kauri had been taught was safe, the owner is safe, even when he hurts you he’s safe.

He’s not safe at all, but there’s no way out of this, and Kauri is trapped living in fear and pain and betrayal and rage.

There’s a deep pain inside of him when he unfolds himself from the chair, a pain he is ignoring with gritted teeth, a pain he knows too well from training, from Owen’s anger. He was Vince for his owner again tonight - Owen drunk and slurring his words, and there are bruises on Kauri’s hips in the shape of Owen’s fingers as he moves back inside. The thick black collar from the Facility is still around his neck, he hasn’t earned the pretty new one yet. Maybe he never will.

It will never be enough.

He was made to be the replacement for someone he can never live up to. He isn’t good enough as himself. He’s stupid and brainless because Owen wanted him that way and it’s still not enough, to lose his thoughts and identity, to be trained in all the things Owen wants, it was never ever going to be enough.

Why couldn’t he just be happy with the life he was living? Why couldn’t Kauri just accept things as they are and stop trying to dream about dark eyes and hair, and something better? Why didn’t he keep his mouth shut when they filmed at the Host’s house, why didn’t he just-

Why… why couldn’t Owen just love him? Is he not worth loving, just as himself?

Kauri knows the answer to that question. Owen has told him before.

Kor-Bore, you’re sweet, but you’re a fucking empty space, you know? You don’t have a relationship with a fucking pet, man. I asked for brainless slut, and nobody’s going to love that. There’s nothing in there to love. It’s nice to pretend, though, isn’t it?

Yeah, Kauri thinks. Sometimes it was.

Kauri hiccups a sob as he stumbles to the couch, flinging himself onto it, feeling the soft give of the cushion under him, a deep teal that he adores. It’s his favorite color really, this saturated blue with just the barest hint of green.

Is it his favorite color? Or did Owen have them put that into his head?

There’s nothing in him to love. He’s a pale shadow of a different man, built to be a copy who can’t escape Owen’s hands, who doesn’t even want to. But Kauri wants to. There’s no way out but he wants a way out, he’d dig a tunnel with a fucking spoon if he could. There’s no way out of this at all.

Kauri cries himself out on the couch, as quietly as he can, careful not to wake Owen up. He tries to cry out all the anger trapped inside him, the hurt and the loneliness, the reality that it will never, ever be any better than this.

He lays down on his side, knees curled nearly to his chest, lets his arm hang off the side. His fingers drift along Owen's beautiful wood flooring. Tears dry into tracks on his face, like empty ancient riverbeds in deserts on Our Planet on TV. 

The ceiling fan spins overhead, a lazy movement. The world is still and silent at this hour, and Kauri has never felt so perfectly, utterly, wretchedly alone.

Then he blinks, lifting his head slowly as he hears a noise he doesn't recognize coming from under the couch. A kind of clicking, repeated, like something trying to turn and failing, again and again. He thinks of a skipping record player on High Fidelity, one of Owen’s favorite movies. He thinks of Gavin clicking his tongue against his teeth in the Honor Bound movie.

“What…?” His voice is trembling from the tears that are still locked inside him. He could never cry long enough to get them all out. 

The clicking continues, and Kauri swallows, pushes himself over the edge, and hangs his head upside down to look under the couch, wild black curls just brushing the floor.

Two glowing red dots stare back at him from the darkness under the couch.

Kauri reassurance require?

“Wh-what the fuck-... Keira?” Kauri sniffs and twists off the couch, landing with a thump on the floor, digging his arm under the couch frantically until he finds the familiar round metal and plastic shape. He grips onto her, feeling a kind of hysterical laugh wanting to bubble up his throat, swallowing reflexively to keep it down as he scrapes her a little along the floor and finally has her back in his arms.

Kauri rolls onto his back between the couch and coffee table, holding her tightly against his chest, eyes slowly closing. “You’re, y-you’re, you’re not dead?”

There’s a pause, the little clicking he understands now is the sound of a broken wheel on one side. Keira initiate shutdown procedure, set variable Kauri sound. Current power at thirty-two-point-twelve percent.

A bit of plastic nudges under his chin as he holds her even tighter, new tears welling and coming out of the corners of his closed eyes, running down to pool in his ears, to drip onto the ground beneath him. He hitches in a breath, feeling the constriction of the wide leather collar, the weight of Keira on his chest, the way she feels so perfectly familiar in his arms.

Kauri reassurance require?

“Y-yes,” Kauri whispers. “Yes, I, I need… Kauri reassurance require, Keira.”

Keira reassurance provide.

“I fucked up so bad, Keira, I’m so sorry he hurt you-”

Kauri pain sound. Kauri fear sound. Keira maintains memory. Kauri good.

“N-no, I w-w-wasn’t, I did something I wasn’t supposed to do, I, I fucked up and I made him so mad-”

Kauri good. Keira reassurance provide.

“I don’t… feel good.”

Kauri good.

How long they laid there, Kauri didn’t know. She was warm, the wires and everything inside of her felt like a person’s heat laying on top of him, warming him as much from the inside as out. 

“I missed you,” He whispers into the dark room, to the glowing red dots that he thinks always as Keira’s eyes. Her little broken wheel clicks once, twice, three times more. “I was all alone and I m-missed you so much, I just-... I can’t… I can’t-”

Keira present. Kauri Grant, Owner. 

“M-Mr. Owen’s your-”

Override code accepted. Kauri Grant, owner.

He can’t remember it very well. Had he given her the override code? Maybe he had. Kauri rolls onto his side, clutching her tightly, crying into the hard metal that feels, to him, like arms around him, like someone he loves holding him tightly. 

It’s the closest he’ll ever have again to that feeling, and Kauri curls himself around the delusion, tells himself that it’s almost like Keira is real.

Like someone in the world loves him.

Like anyone in the world ever could.

“I can’t fuck up again,” He whispers. “I can’t ever fuck up again. He could have killed me.”

Kauri fear sound, Keira says solemnly. Kauri afraid.

“Yes,” Kauri says hoarsely. “I’m so scared, Keira. I’m so, so scared, and I’m so unhappy, and I hate it here and I hate him so much-” He catches his breath at the lance of pain through his rebellious, aberrant thoughts, but doubles down and buries his head against her softly rounded edges. “I hate him,” He whispers. “I hate him I hate him I hate him I hate him.”

He pauses, lets the moment draw out, breathes against the pain until it fads. 

“I love him,” He adds, in an even softer voice. “I love him so much and I just w-wanted him to love me back. I just wanted-... I just-... couldn’t be good enough, Keira, I want… I want someone else.”

Owen Grant laptop unlocked. Kauri could have sworn Keira’s metallic voice sounded smug. He slowly raised his head to look up at Owen’s laptop sitting on the coffee table, screen up.

It was on. 

“... did you turn Mr. Owen’s computer on?” He asked, slowly pushing himself up onto his knees. “I didn’t know you could-”

Error code 4563453AI AI limiter chip malfunction. 

“I don’t know what that means.” Kauri stares in outright shock as he watches, watches, the little circles fill in Owen’s password, opening up his laptop to the main screen. He swallows, hard, curling into himself while Keira works, a low hum coming from within her. Guilt twists in his chest - he’s not supposed to look, ever again, not ever again - but some part of him can’t bear to stop her.

Keira has no limitations. Kauri reassurance require. Keira memory retained last Kauri happiness moment.

The internet browser opens on Owen’s computer and Kauri flinches his head to the side to avoid accidentally reading any of the words. He can hear Owen’s low snoring all the way out here - he must have rolled onto his back.

“K-Keira, we have to be careful, we have to be-... so careful, I shouldn’t-”

Keira reassurance provide. Keira provide Kauri happiness moment.

A familiar face pops up on the screen, holding a chef’s knife, smiling shyly, the frozen screenshot before the video starts. The cursor of the mouse moves quickly and with perfect efficiency across the screen to click PLAY.

Out-of-focus, a deep masculine voice says, “Um, hey guys-”

“Keira, I’m not supposed to-... I shouldn’t be thinking about-”

Kauri Grant, Owner. Keira reassurance provide Kauri Grant, Owner. Kauri good. Kauri happiness moment.

“Is that, um, ‘focused’?” The voice says on the laptop’s screen. Shot of slippered feet and legs clad in familiar sweatpants. Kauri catches his breath. “I, um, they just taught me how to use this and um-”

Kauri heartrate increasing, Keira says, that note of smugness in her voice again. Kauri blood distribution adjustment. 

“Keira, you have to turn this off right now, I’m not allowed to watch him alone anymore, I’m not, I’m not allowed to even think about him-”

Shy smile, dark eyebrows and hair, the face he sees when he closes his eyes and pretends he’s somewhere else, with someone else, when he replaces Owen’s voice with another one, a deeper voice, moves his body with the image of different hands, longer fingers, a different shape to the jaw when he puts his hands on either side of his face. 

It’s the same as the shy smile with cold fingers pressing a hot mug of coffee into his hands as he stares at the snow on the ski trip. 

Kauri’s protests die away, and he sits slowly back, resting against the couch and staring at the laptop screen, blue eyes wide.

Kauri reassured?

“Kauri reassured,” Kauri says, lips barely moving, his eyes locked on the screen. “It… it won’t hurt to watch just one… right?” 

He swallows, hard, and watches the screen. The dreams the white room tried to lock away, the hopes that died under Tyler and Delevigne’s tiny scalpels, the resignation that settled in when the Director herself visited his recovery room to press on the shock implants just to hear his whimper of pain, the awful screaming rage that has lived inside of him since the moment he realized that Owen was going to break the only promise he had ever made-

All of the anger fades, in the moment. The hopes and the dreams whisper from the back of his mind that they aren’t dead, only sleeping. Waiting. Still there for him to have.

There are places Kauri goes, Keira says. He barely hears her, only nods. There are people who help Kauri. Keira memory storage including safehouse locations within 500 miles of current location accepting human pets.

“Safehouses?”

Kauri could leave. The voice is lower than before, as if even the Roomba can tell that it’s something Kauri’s mind isn’t allowed to linger on. 

He shakes his head, rapidly, before the headache can settle in. Even still, he can’t look away from the screen. “I… I can’t. I can’t ever leave him.” 

Kauri leaves soon. “Abusers typically escalate when they feel they are losing control over the relationship, often because they feel that the independence of their partner has increased in some way or that their partner will leave.”  National Domestic Violence Hotline source.

“I-I can’t. The things he put in me hurt if I get too close to the door, I l-love him, I… I-” Kauri admits the unthinkable, finally, speaking words out loud he’s only ever thought before. “If I leave, he’ll kill me. I f-fucked up and he nearly, he could have-”

“If you are experiencing escalation and your partner has threatened to kill you-”

“He’s not my partner,” Kauri says, some part of him cracking apart and shattering under the weight of that statement. “He’s my owner.”

“-it is important to develop a safety plan that can help you and your family survive.” National Domestic Violence hotline source.

“Why do you keep quoting them?”

The video ends, and Kauri watches the little circle fill before the next one begins. 

Accuracy. 

 “I don’t have a family.”

Keira reassurance provide.

“Are… are you saying you’re my family?” 

Kauri good. Keira retain safehouse information. The laptop exited the internet browser as quickly as it had opened it, turned the computer off. Kauri sat frozen, watching Keira control Owen’s laptop with wide, slightly blind eyes. Kauri good. Kauri good. Keira reassurance provide.

“How… how do I go?” He whispered. But she didn’t have to answer that. Kauri knew the answer, deep within himself. 

He needed a plan. 

Then he needed to wait for his chance, and when it came, he would have to be able to take it. Until then…

He was going to have to remember, at least for Owen, that he was supposed to be so fucking lucky.

He pushed himself to his feet, padding soundlessly through the condo looking until he found Keira’s charging station shoved into the back of the closet in Kauri’s discipline room and forgotten. Kauri kept his eyes carefully away from his box and from the discipline tools laid out, plugging the charger in while keeping it hidden in the closet, slipping Keira into her docking station, laying a hand on the warmth of her plastic and metal body.

“I’m so glad you’re still alive,” He said, quietly, his voice caught with tears.

Keira pleased Kauri safe.

“Not safe. But here.” Kauri gave her a final pat on the head.

In the bedroom, Owen shifted around, and Kauri jumped when he called, “Kor-Bore? Where are you?” His voice was slurred with sleep, hazy with some kind of desire. Kauri swallowed back a twisted mix of desire and love and disgust and hate, and stepped back into the hallway and into the bedroom, looking at Owen with a slight smile.

The smile didn’t reach his eyes.

It never had.

Owen never noticed.

“Right here, Mr. Owen,” Kauri said softly, pitching his voice low, almost teasing. “Needed water.”

“Come back t’bed,” Owen said, holding out his arm.

Kauri kept his smile set on his lips and slid into the bed, let his body take over and his thoughts drift to a safer place in the back of his mind. 

He was so lucky Keira hadn’t been found and thrown away, or broken so badly she was gone, or reset to factory settings. He was so lucky Keira had information he could use, had held onto it, could control Owen’s computer to help him. 

He was so lucky Keira cared. That anyone cared, ever, about him at all. Maybe he could… watch more videos, at night, when Owen was sleeping. Maybe he could take the time to make a plan. 

He was… he was so fucking lucky he might have a chance to get past the locked door.

[bytheangell]

Ahead of Ourselves

(Read on AO3) Square Filled: Doctor AU for @shadowhunterbingo Pairing: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood Rating: Teen and Up  – Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Summary:   A lot of the hospital staff thinks that Dr. Lightwood is a little heartless... but Magnus discovers he might just be as good at acting a he is at medicine. -------------

Magnus doesn’t bother to hide his displeasure at being paired with Alec Lightwood for today’s surgery. As the son of the owners of the hospital, Alec gets whatever he wants whenever he wants it, and Magnus might hate him a little bit for it. After fighting so hard to get where he is, Magnus can’t help the sting of jealousy to see someone handed everything he ever wanted. Sure, Alec’s good at what he does, but in Magnus’ humble opinion he’s no better than the rest of them.

He’s also an asshole.

Mangus allows himself a moment of indulgent whining with Catarina on one of their lunch breaks over sad excuses for salad from the cafeteria. “Think about it - when was the last time you saw him eat, or sleep, or get upset? I’m telling you - a robot.”

Okay, maybe Magnus is getting ahead of himself since ‘asshole’ gives Alec the illusion of having enough feelings to even be rude - Magnus has a running joke with some of his friends at the hospital that Alec Lightwood is, in fact, an emotionless surgical robot that the Lightwoods created to pa their legacy down to. No matter how many patients he loses Magnus has never, not once, seen the man shed a single tear. He delivers bad news to families without batting a single, perfectly full eyelash.

He’s cold and uncaring and Magnus doesn’t particularly want to know what sort of person can be that way.

Alec’s sister, the resident forensic pathologist, insists that Magnus should try to get to know him better, that he really isn’t all that bad underneath it all. Magnus tries a few times, and he almost manages to get Alec to crack a smile at some shitty pun he made before Alec reminds him that they are working and it isn’t a time for jokes.

So when Magnus sees his name listed on the board under Alec’s, he knows he’s in for a long, boring, silent surgery later that night.

Unfortunately, all the quiet focus in the world isn’t enough to save their patient. Magnus curses, slamming his fist on the table next to him with tears stinging his eyes before the final, frantic beep fades into a flatline.

“Time of death,” Alec announces, voice so frustratingly neutral as he takes off his gloves that Magnus’ tears double in frustration at the sound of it. “11:08 pm.”

Magnus takes one look at the girl on the table and is already starting to run through a million split-second decisions, wondering if there was anything they could’ve done differently to ave her. They knew the odds on this one were bad, but they weren’t 0% - he just wasn’t good enough.

Alec takes one look at him and Magnus can practically feel the judgment despite Alec’s usual stone-faced demeanor. This isn’t the first patient Magnus lost, and it won’t be the last, but each one hits just as hard.

“I’ll talk to the family. You go pull yourself back together before rounds.”

And then he’s gone.

Magnus does, of course, pull himself back together in time for his rounds, with the help of Catarina’s reassurances that he can’t save everyone and nobody expects him to - not the Lightwoods, or the other staff, or even the patients.

When Magnus finally gets a chance to nap for a few minutes it seems as if everyone else has the same idea - after trying all the usual on-call rooms he normally crashes in during his long shifts, Magnus finds an empty cot in one of the farther corners of the hospital, in a wing so barely used he’s honestly surprised it isn’t blocked off by now.

He also finds someone else already sitting in the dark - Magnus might not have even noticed in his current state of exhaustion if they weren’t obviously crying.

“Don’t worry, I can sleep through some crying, pretend I’m not even here,” Magnus says, expecting his attempt at lighthearted comfort to be aimed at some intern who came out of the way to avoid anyone seeing them upset.

“Fuck,” he hears instead, followed by a sniffle and the sound of hands frantically wiping at a face.

He knows that voice, even in the dark.

“...Doctor Lightwood?”

“Just… shit. No one ever comes up here. Sorry,” Alec says, voice shaky with more emotion than Magnus thought him capable of.

Magnus hesitates.

He could follow his own suggestion and pretend Alec isn’t even there. He should. But he can’t, because he heard that tell-tale sign of crying and would feel too guilty just pretending he didn’t.

“Can I turn on the light?” Magnus asks.

“I’d rather you didn’t,” Alec mutters.

“...do you, uh, want to talk about it?” Magnus tries.

“If I did would I be hiding out in here?” Alec counters. “I’m fine. I just need a minute then I’ll get out of your hair.”

“Mmhmm,” Magnus agrees. He picks an empty cot and tries to close his eyes, but he can’t bring himself to actually fall asleep now. He tosses over once, then twice, before giving up.

“Okay, but you don’t get upset. Or angry. Or happy. So this is weird, and I can’t just let it go,” Magnus says finally.

“Would it make you feel better if I told you I do this all the time, so really, it isn't a big deal?” Alec offers.

Magnus frowns. “...that doesn’t make me feel better at all,” he admits. “What do you mean ‘all the time’? You never do this.”

“Yes, I do. I just never let anyone see me do it. Do you think my parents are going to stand for their son walking around crying on a daily basis? Or, like, ever?” Alec huffs out a derisive laugh. “They have a reputation to uphold, which means I have a reputation to uphold. Heaven forbid a Lightwood has anything that can even vaguely be perceived as a flaw.”

Well shit. Magnus wasn’t ready for any of this, and honestly, he isn’t sure what to do with it now that it’s sitting heavy in the room. “You’re allowed to have emotions. You’re not - contrary to rumors I may or may not have started personally - an actual robot.” Magnus winces.

“Tell that to my parents,” he says. “I’m honestly not sure which they’ll be more upset over - losing the patient in the first place, or letting it get to me like this. I shouldn’t have let either happen tonight, let alone both.” Alec gives a rough sniff, and Magnus’ eyes are adjusted enough to the dim light that filters in through the window now that he can see Alec fidgeting with his hands and biting on his lower lip.

Magnus hates how casually Alec talks down on himself, despite the fact that Magnus himself was very sarcastically saying the same things about him not too long ago. Isabelle was right - he just needed to get to know Alec a little better. He hates her for that.

“No one’s perfect. NOt even you, apparently. I’m not going to lie, it’s refreshing to know. But I’m, uh, sorry you feel like you need to be. Guess no familial pressure is the one up-side to not having any family left.” Magnus wonders if maybe opening up a bit himself will encourage Alec to do the same. “If you ever want to talk-”

“Listen, I don’t need you to feel bad for me. Sorry for dumping all that shit on you just now, I don’t know what came over me. Just pretend this never happened, and you can go back to talking shit about me to my sister and everyone else in this hospital, and I can go back to keeping this room for myself.” There’s an edge to Alec’s tone like he just realized everything he’s been saying since he started what seems to be an entirely accidental venting he probably wishes he could take back. Magnus can practically feel him putting a wall up between them.

“Alexander-” Magnus starts, but Alec stands and crosses the room to the door before he can say anything more.

“I should go. Get some rest, Doctor Bane.” And just like Alec closes himself off again, leaving Magnus alone in the dark.

---

The problem is that Magnus can’t just pretend it never happened. He wants to. His life would be a lot easier if he did, probably. But instead, he finds himself watching Alec, really observing him, now that he knows what to look for.

Magnus can tell when Alec is intentionally pushing others away and closing himself off, and it’s almost always right before, and immediately after, surgeries. Magnus always thought that his kind bedside manner was the show he put on for patients but it doesn’t take long to realize that that is more the real Alec than anything else. It’s the cold, calculated version of himself he keeps on in the hallways and around his peers that’s the act.

And god, how tiring that must be for him, Magnus realizes.

Magnus also starts to notice the periods of time Alec’s nowhere to be found, and no one seems particularly inclined to go looking for him if it isn’t an emergency - except Magnus knows exactly where Alec goes now. The next time a surgery goes wrong Magnus slips a note underneath the door telling Alec that everyone is talking about how he did his best, better than anyone else would’ve done under the same circumstances.

The next time Alec loses a patient and needs to inform the family Magnus finds out his favorite hospital-accessible comfort food from Isabelle (which happens to be the greasiest burger Magnus has ever seen) and leaves it on the table in Alec’s usual hideout.

All the while nothing changes between the two of them. Magnus still makes terrible jokes that Alec only rolls his eyes at, before walking off without a single word and ignoring him just as much as - if not even more than - he did before. It’s a good thing Magnus is nothing if not persistent, and hardly deterred by a little silent treatment when he tries to say hi a bit more often in the hallways.

The more Magnus tries to get him to open up again, the more Alec closes off. He even yells at Magnus in the hallway over something so trivial Magnus forgets about it by the end of the day.

Through it all Magnus continues to leave little notes and pick-me-up gifts for Alec (Isabelle, upon realizing what he’s doing, is more than willing to provide him with all the inside information he needs for things like Alec’s favorite color or coffee order. She also tells him Alec’s favorite flower, and while he’s stunned that Alec even has a favorite flower Magnus also has to insist that isn’t what this is at all before poor Izzy gets ahead of herself).

Not that Magnus can really say what it is he’s doing, or why he’s doing it, which proves to be a problem a few weeks later when Alec loses another patient, and Magnus shows up to Alec’s ‘secret room’ only to find the door open and Alec waiting for him inside.

“What are you doing?” Alec demands, arms crossed.

“Bringing you a burger because I know you aren’t going to let yourself eat anything the rest of the night otherwise,” Magnus says simply.

“Why?”

“...because when we don’t eat, we starve. It’s like, human body 101.” Magnus deflects.

“You know what I mean,” Alec says, not letting him get out of it that easily.

“I don’t know… because no one should have to go through the stuff we go through alone the way you do. I know you didn’t want me around-around, so I just wanted to remind you that you weren’t alone.” Magnus shrugs, setting the plate down on the table near the door.

“But I was a dick to you,” Alec points out.

“Yup,” Magnus agrees. “That’s what happens when you bottle all your emotions up and push everyone away.”

Alec rolls his eyes. “I don’t know what Isabelle’s been saying, but-”

“She hasn’t,” Magnus reassures him. “It’s just kind of obvious once you start looking.”

“...and you’ve been looking?” Alec asks, curiously, with one scarred eyebrow arched.

“Not in, like, a creepy way or anything,” Magnus finds himself backtracking under Alec’s accusatory stare.

To his surprise, Alec laughs.

“Sorry. That was mean,” Alec says, and Magnus realizes with a strange mixture of horror and amazement that Alec’s teasing him. “I’m not going to lie, I saw you talking with Izzy a few times and thought she was putting you up to this.”

Magnus shakes his head. “Nope. Just me, all on my own, sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong,” Magnus confirms.

Alec looks down at the burger again, and then back up at Magnus. “Do you want to stay?”

Magnus, remembering why he came here in the first place, knows there isn’t a chance in hell he’s leaving Alec alone if he actually wants company right now.

“Sure,” Magnus agrees and watches as Alec makes impressive use of the plastic silverware the food comes with to cut the burger in half before offering it to Magnus.

They both sit down at the edge of the cot and eat, first in silence, and then with some semi-casual conversation, as far as two doctors on shift at a hospital can manage ‘casual’ without work-related topics cropping up here and there.

Alec is just starting to relax when his name is paged to one of his patient’s rooms over the intercom system.

Alec’s on his feet and to the door without a second thought, but pauses there to stop and look back at Magnus.

“Before I go,” he says, glancing anxiously at the speaker in the ceiling as if afraid it might cut him off before he finishes whatever he wants to say.

“Yes?” Magnus prompts, drawing Alec’s attention back to him.

“I was wondering if, maybe, I could repay you for the meal sometime?” Alec asks, and while it definitely sounds like he’s asking Magnus out there’s also, infuriatingly, not a single concrete part of that sentence that confirms Magnus’s suspicion.

“You can get me a burger from the cafeteria any time you want,” Magnus agrees.

“No, I- that is-” Alec starts again, and this time his name is repeated over the speakers and he curses again. “I’d like to take you out to dinner. If you want.”

“I’d like that,” Magnus agrees just as easily.

“Really?” Alec says, eyes widening just a little before he recovers quickly. “Right. I’ll see when we both have off and I’ll set something up, then.”

Just as quickly Alec’s gone, disappearing down the hallway.

When Magnus catches a few murmurings during his rounds of how strange everyone finds it that Doctor Lightwood is smiling a suspicious amount all of a sudden he keeps his own smile small and to himself.

And when he shows up to dinner two nights later he makes a mental note to thank Isabelle for getting ahead of herself as he watches the way Alexander’s entire face lights up at the sight of the single peony Magnus brought for him, beaming as he tucks it into his jacket pocket.

Alec has that effect, it seems, as Magnus sits across from him at dinner and does his best to not get too ahead of himself, either… but when Alec starts tossing out ideas for a second date before the first is even over, Magnus realizes he might not be the only one.