#id rather he just not tell me than lie it would hurt less and i can respect not wanting to share

[taetaespeaches]

“It’s everything to lose.”

taehyung x reader/oc  (but also jimin x platonic reader/oc) genre: angst word count: 6K

a/n: well, this was a process to write lol. Basically, Peaches/reader and Tae are experiencing a mix of feelings due to their best friends’ (Jimin and Dear) break up. Fears of a possible relationship with each other are worsened, plus, Tae and Peaches are just sad because their closest friends are sad. Also, Peaches finally talks to Jimin for the first time after he broke up with Dear, so that’s a big part of this as well. And we get a brief moment between Peaches and Dear, our ride or die duo. Ok, that’s really it. I hope you all enjoy, and thanks so much for reading! :))

Grasping the back of your neck, you massaged your muscles as you yawned, your eyes set on the coffee percolating into the pot. You loved your best friend, and of course you wanted to be there for her, but her post-break up antics were beginning to wear on you as you failed to get accustomed to running on five or less hours of sleep night after night.

Leaning over the countertop, you looked through your most recent texts with your other best friend, Taehyung. The conversation, which started with him bragging about an amazing waffle he had just eaten, had turned a bit sour as you both defended opposing friends in their recent breakup.

It was hard to find common ground with the man these days, as he was on tour with the antagonist of your friends’ little drama, and you were in a constant state of being the shoulder to cry on for the dear protagonist. A sigh slipped from your lips as you scanned through the messages, the grumbling of the coffee pot sounding in the otherwise silent apartment.

You: He dumped her through text while he was away on tour. That’s fucking ridiculous and it’s cowardly.

Tae: You don’t know what’s going through his mind though.

You: There’s obviously not much going through his mind.

Tae: He’s your friend too.

You: And he broke my best friend’s heart.

Tae: I know that. I’m sorry, I hate this whole situation.

You: Me too. I’m sorry and I hate it too.

Tae: Is she at your place again?

You: No, I’m sure she will be but right now she’s out drinking with those stupid friends she has.

Tae: Oh….

You: Yeah. I’m anxious as fuck. I wanted to keep her from going out but you know, I can’t do that. She has to do what she’s gonna do.

Tae: I’m sorry to add to your stress.

Tae: She’ll be ok, Peaches.

You: No, it’s ok, you could never truly add to my stress. You’re my comfort, Tae, you know that.

Tae: I’m sorry you’re caught in the middle like this.

You: I’m sorry you are too. I’m gonna try to get some sleep. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, have a good night, Dearest.

Tae: Sweet dreams, Peaches.

Craving for two seconds away from the ongoing story of your friends’ turbulent romance, you scrolled up on your text conversation with Tae, a faint smile appearing on your lips at the photo of a waffle the size of the plate it sat upon, followed by a photo of Taehyung shoving a massive bite into his mouth.

Tae: It’s definitely big enough for the both of us but since you’re not here I guess I’ll have to manage it alone.

Tae: I miss sharing breakfast foods with you.

Tae: Never mind, this is so good, I’m glad you’re not here to eat it all.

Your brief moment of relief was broken when your screen changed to display a caller you were not prepared to speak to. Guilt and anxiety settled into your stomach as your breathing hitched slightly at the image of his name and photo. The contact ID reminded you of simpler times, the man pulling a silly expression with his chin tucked into his neck to give himself two of them. He had called you a few times the past couple days, but you’d consistently ignored them, trying to avoid hearing the voice of the man you considered one of your closest friends.

You almost didn’t answer again. Looking to the room your best friend slept in, a serious hangover awaiting her on the other side of slumber, your thumb pressed on the green circular button on the right side of the screen.  

Pausing a moment, you shook your head before raising the phone to your ear.

“Hello?” You answered, your voice hushed as to not wake up the girl a few rooms away. A rush of air sounded through the phone, as if the man was sighing in relief, but that was the only response you received. “Jimin,” you sighed.

“Hey,” he spoke quietly, defeat coating his tone. He must not have had the strength to pretend to be ok.  

Another awkward pause ensued, both of you waiting for the other to break the silence first. With another sigh, you stood up straight, turning your back to the counter as you leaned against it. “Can you say something?” You asked.

“I don’t know what to say,” he admitted lamely, you licking your lips which became quite dry suddenly.  

“You called me,” you pointed out, annoyance in your words that wasn’t intentional but was true to your current mood. “You’ve been calling me for days, but you don’t know what to say?”

“I didn’t think you’d answer,” he said shakily, and you were sure there were tears bubbling up in his eyes.

Hearing the sadness in his tone, you chewed on your bottom lip, trying to conceal your own emotions in response to his tone. You weren’t sure your feelings even mattered right then. “Well I answered,” you told him, in a sort of assurance. Assurance of what, neither of you were sure, but it allowed Jimin a small sigh of relief.

“Thank you,” the man whispered, causing you to clench your teeth to hold back your pity and consideration for him as you turned back around to the coffee machine.

“Don’t thank me,” you told him, a slight anger behind your tone. “What do you want to say? I have errands I need to run.”  

As Jimin prepared his words, going through his mind to figure out exactly why he was calling you, you patiently waited, halting your movements as your hand sat on the handle of the coffee pot. You knew he needed time to gather his thoughts, and though you were angry with him, you cared for him enough to give him that. “I just miss you,” he admitted, a crack in his voice indicating the earnest admission.

Taking in a shaky breath, you let it out in a wobbly exhale. “Of course I miss you too,” you said honestly. You refused to lie to him about that. “But I don’t want to talk to you, Jimin.”

His words tumbled out of him bitterly, but it was shrouded in frustration, which you believed to be with himself. “You were my friend first,” he said, uncertain whether he regretted the comment or not.

“I’m still your friend,” you told him adamantly, though your voice was still quiet.  

“Then please talk to me,” he begged, almost desperate for the affection you normally showed him. Well, that you showed him before he broke your best friend’s heart.

“I can’t,” you told him trying to sound stern, but your exhausted state ruining your feeble attempt to put up a front.

A sniffle sounded through the phone, adding to the heaviness in your heart. “Why not?”

Holding the phone to your ear with one hand, you moved your other from the coffee pot to the top of your head as you scratched your roots in frustration and distress. “I can’t risk saying something awful to you,” you confessed through an unsteady voice. And that was it. You were angry with him, but you didn’t want to hurt him. “I love you, you’re one of my favorite people on this entire planet, Jimin,” you cried, your sniffling giving away your emotion to the man on the other side of the phone.

“I’m sorry,” he told you in a rush as you wiped away a tear.

“I see her every day,” you told Jimin in a whisper, ensuring your voice was too low for your friend to hear you if she suddenly awoke. However, you were sure the quietness of your voice was giving away that the woman he still loved was just feet away from you; just feet away from the conversation currently taking place, asleep in your spare bedroom. “I’m so mad at you, Jimin, god I’m mad at you,” your voice suddenly broke, no longer able to hold back the pent-up emotions. If Jimin’s thoughts had strayed to the girl nearby, the sound of your distressed voice surely brought him back to the present conversation; the present state of your friendship. “I need to process all of this before I talk to you because I love you and I can’t say something I’ll regret or something I don’t mean,” you explained as tears spilled over your lash line.

“I understand,” he said roughly, clearing his voice right after as if he was trying to pull himself together for your sake.

“I just-” You paused, holding your breath as you attempted to swallow more tears. “I need time so I can forgive you,” you told him sadly, clenching your fist together as you tried to steady your breathing. “I’m sorry,” you told him, your voice just above a whisper.

“Please don’t apologize,” he begged, choking back a sob. “I get it, take your time,” he assured you. “I’m really sorry for doing this,” he admitted sadly. The man sounded regretful and broken, your pity for him swirling around in the whirlwind of emotions you were currently experiencing. “All of it.”

You knew that was true. You knew he still loved her. And you knew he felt immense guilt for what he did to her, you, Taehyung, your whole friend unit, but mostly her. That much was obvious.  

“I do miss you,” you assured him through a small whimper, choosing to give him the reassurance rather than responding to his apology. “I won’t be mad forever.”

“I miss you too,” he told you sorrowfully. “I’ll be here whenever your feelings change.”

With that, you ended the call, leaving Jimin alone in his hotel room. Setting the phone to the counter, you wiped your face once more before grabbing the handle of the coffee pot, pouring some into the mug you had taken out earlier.

Thinking upon your conversation with Jimin, you wanted nothing more than to scream at him; tell him what an idiot he was. But you also wanted to wrap him up in a hug and tell him that he would be ok. You were my friend first. You scoffed, thinking of his remark, though a tear slid down your cheek. You wanted to be there for your friend, but how could you be when your other friend was just down the hallway, passed out after a night of trying to numb her heartache through the use of alcohol? He caused that pain. You were right to be mad at him… weren’t you?

It was almost astonishing how things, seemingly meant to be, could fall apart right before your eyes. Things weren’t always easy for Jimin and your friend, but they loved each other. One would think that love would be enough to get them through. But maybe love isn’t enough. Maybe fate isn’t enough.

Fate. Soulmates. They’re interesting concepts. Souls destined to find each other. But the rhetoric surrounding these notions don’t suggest that you’ll end up together.

But maybe if Jimin and your friend could see past everything that went wrong, they would find something worth fighting for still. It wasn’t simple, but it could be simpler for them.  

Something also simple but not simple at all was you and Taehyung. More and more recently, you had been realizing how much you love him. Maybe you both were meant to be together too. Tied together by the fate of your souls. But seeing how things can fall apart, perhaps it’s more risk than it’s worth. Wasn’t it better to have Tae in your life in the role of your best friend than it was to complicate things and lose him? You couldn’t lose him. You wouldn’t let yourself.

You sniveled as you brought the coffee to your lips, making an attempt at a deep breath before taking a sip. Your emotions needed to be locked down by the time your friend awoke. However, that concern came too late as two arms wrapped around your middle, the surprise affection causing you to jump in start.

The presence of her limbs were tentative as he she carefully rested the side of her face against your back. Breathing out in a huff, you relaxed a bit. “Jesus,” you spoke softly, but your friend gave you no response. Alarm bells went off in your head as her body trembled just slightly against yours. “You ok?” You asked, setting the mug down carefully.

“I’m so sorry,” she sobbed against you, and as your mind went into high alert, your heart plummeted into your gut. Immediately, you turned in her arms, wrapping your own around the back of her head, holding her impossibly close to you. Sorry?

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” you assured her, leaving a kiss to the side of her head on the top of her hair. “Absolutely nothing.”

“My behavior last night could use an apology,” she admitted, causing you to smile slightly though she couldn’t see it with her face buried against your neck.

“Well, maybe that,” you teasingly agreed, thinking back to the few hours earlier in which you had to drive to the club she was at because she had broken down on the dance floor. All anger, if there was any to begin with, however, had completely dissolved when you pulled up outside the establishment to find her sitting against the wall in the cold, mascara stains down her cheeks as she sobbed about how much her heart hurt. “But are you even apologizing for that?” You asked her, realizing she must have heard you on the phone with her ex.

“Partially,” she cried harder. She knew the strain the breakup had put on all four of you, and though it wasn’t her fault, she still felt guilty. You knew she did. Her heart was too soft for her to not take some sort of blame.

Allowing her to cry in your arms, you moved your hand to the back of her head as you tried to make her feel safe. “You’re gonna be ok,” you whispered to her repeatedly in a gentle tone.

After a few moments, she pulled away to look at you, your thumbs moving to her cheeks to wipe the tears away, though more continued to fall, quickly replacing them.

“How is he?” She suddenly asked you, her lip trembling as she held back a sob.

Scanning her features carefully, you debated your answer. If you told her he was ok, it would make her feel pitiful for not being ok, plus it would be a lie. If you told her he wasn’t ok, it could possibly hurt her even more. Locking your eyes on her pleading ones, you sighed. “About as good as you,” you told her simply, holding back your own tears as she broke down, your arms wrapping around her shoulders to bring her close once again.

Placing a hand back against her head, you held her to you tightly. “Why does that make me feel worse?” She asked against your shoulder, her voice muffled from your sweatshirt.

“Oh babe,” you spoke softly near her ear, a tear slipping from the inner corner of your eye. “Because you still love him.”

You weren’t sure if you should have said that, but it was true. And maybe if she heard it from you, she would face those feelings. As she cried against you, your mind raced over everything that had happened that morning already. Everyone was so broken, and suddenly your mind found its way to Taehyung. Because he was the only one you wanted to talk to in that moment. He was your comfort.

But what if you didn’t have him anymore? Two people as meant to be as Jimin and the girl in your arms couldn’t even make it work. Add in your fickleness in love, and where did that leave your odds at success with Tae? You refused to break him, and you couldn’t lose him. You just couldn’t.

Hauling your groceries through your apartment, your phone started ringing in your pocket. Rushing to the kitchen, you set the bags on the floor before grabbing the device, finding Tae on the other side of the video call.

Accepting it, you waited for his face to appear on the screen before greeting him. “Hi,” you answered in a huff, Tae immediately chuckling at your hectic state.

“Hey,” he greeted, “Are you busy?”

“No,” you shook your head, dropping the phone to the counter just after speaking the word, causing the man to giggle further. “Just got home from grocery shopping,” you told him as you discarded your bag off your shoulder and onto the countertop. Taehyung hummed in response just as you propped the phone up against the side of your bag, situating it so he could see you as you stood in your kitchen.

“Did you get anything fun?” He asked, as you scanned the bags on the floor.

“Um,” you cut yourself off with a yawn, “I got those cookies you like,” you spoke through your exhale, looking at him through the screen to take in his appearance. “You look handsome,” you told him, the man smiling slightly at you as you stared at his still damp hair atop his head, giving away that he had showered recently.

“You tired?” He asked suddenly, being met with your groan as you stared down at the groceries without moving. “What happened last night?”

“Well, she went out with those friends and of course it was too soon for her to be out partying and I had to pick her up at 2 am outside of the club because she had a break down,” you ranted to him as you knelt down to begin taking items out of the grocery bags.

“Jesus,” he sighed, your eyebrows raising at his response.

“What?” You questioned defensively, piling items onto the floor as you emptied all the bags.

“I didn’t mean anything by it,” he tried to evade your anger. “I’m assuming she’s not there right now?”

“No, she went back to her place for a bit,” you told him. “What was with the judgmental tone just now?” You pressed.

Looking up at the phone, you watched as shook his hair out with his hand. “It’s just, that’s not really fair to you, is it?”

Scoffing at him, you stood, not bothering to look at the phone as you brought some juice and a few other items to the refrigerator.

“I just mean, you deserve some rest,” he added. “A break maybe.”  

“Well I don’t get a break because your best friend broke up with mine and she’s devastated,” you said coldly, shutting the fridge door and turning back to face the device.

“He’s your friend too,” he reminded you, his eyebrows raised, causing you roll your eyes.

“I know that,” you said in annoyance. “But you don’t see what she’s going through every day,” you pointed out, feeling protective over your friend and her broken heart.

Reaching to grab a box of crackers off the floor, you headed toward the cupboard as Taehyung told you, “You really should talk to him.”

Letting out a dry laugh, you nodded to yourself. “Tae, she’s my best friend,” you reminded him once more.

“I get that, but he’s your friend too,” he repeated, causing you to sigh. “He’s going through stuff too,” he added. You wanted to scoff, but if you were being honest with yourself, your anger towards Jimin had diminished significantly since speaking to him briefly that morning.

“Well,” you thought out loud, facing the man once more. Folding your arms over your ribcage, you shrugged. “I’m sure he is but he did this,” you said, trying to remain firm in your coldness.

You were met with the sound of Taehyung breathing out slowly as his eyes stayed locked on you. “That’s not really fair, he’s hurting too,” Taehyung defended his friend.

“I love Jimin,” you clarified. “But I don’t have time to think about him when she’s at my place all the time because she can’t handle being alone in her own apartment for a single night,” you told him, staring at him as you waited for him to respond. Taehyung ran his tongue over his bottom lip as you sighed. “I know Jimin is hurting, but she is too. And it’s bad, Tae,” you told him sadly.

Taehyung sighed as you stared at him through the phone, waiting for his next words. “I know, I don’t mean to be insensitive to her. I know he hurt her, I get that. I’m just here with him and he’s a fucking mess,” Tae huffed. “I don’t know what to do,” he admitted sadly, giving you a defeated shrug.

Stepping closer to the phone, you shook your head slowly. “I don’t either,” you admitted. You both sat in silence for a moment, watching each other through opposite sides of the phone, your remaining groceries still waiting on the floor.

Taehyung was the first to break the silence, asking, “What are you thinking?”

Sighing, you ran your hands over your face. “I don’t even know, I’m just-” you stopped yourself, not sure if you should speak your next words; because of the implication to you and Tae.

“What is it?” He pressed, resituating himself on the bed as he sat laid across a pillow, his head supported by his hand. “Peaches,” he said gently, causing you to relent.

“Maybe they shouldn’t have ever gone from friends to more,” you thought aloud, Tae’s silence feeling heavy on your heart as he tried his best to keep his face from giving away any emotion.

“You think?” He asked simply, his feigned indifference covering up the hurt you knew was there.

“It’s just a hard leap to make,” you explained, leaning against the counter on your elbows, holding your chin in your hands. “If it doesn’t work, this is where it leaves you.” Your eyes were glued to the phone as you watched him carefully. Suddenly, you felt angry at these fucking phone companies who couldn’t make a better camera or give you a better connection to be able to read the emotions flashing through his eyes and features more closely.

“Sometimes it works though,” he told you quietly, his voice nearly shaking, almost as if he was meekly defending himself.

A lump formed in your throat that you didn’t believe you’d be able to ever swallow, knowing you were the cause of the sadness he was feeling. “But if it doesn’t, that’s a lot to lose,” you argued, your voice faint as the emotions sat in your vocal chords.

“But it can work,” he said a bit louder than his last comment, his voice more assured as he licked his lips.

“Tae,” you sighed, cocking your head to the side just slightly. You both knew you were no longer talking about your friends’ experience with moving from friends to lovers. There had never been any confirmation from either you or Taehyung, but sometimes it seemed as though there was an unspoken understanding of how you both thought of each other.

“Look at Jin,” Taehyung countered, pointing to the fact that Jin and his old friend had successfully added romance to their relationship over a year earlier. “They’re doing really well, they’re happy.”

“Tae,” you called out to him gently, attempting to swallow as your eyes shined with emotion. When he responded with his silence, his sad eyes scanning over your features carefully, you chewed on your bottom lip as you attempted to hold in your emotion. “It’s a lot to lose,” you whispered, holding his gaze. “It��s everything to lose,” you added, blinking a few times as Taehyung looked down to the bed and began picking at the comforter. A few seconds of silence went by and you didn’t realize you were holding your breath until you suddenly exhaled, feeling breathless and tired. “Dearest,” you addressed him softly.

“No, you’re right,” he said half-heartedly, keeping his eyes directed downward. “It is everything to lose,” he agreed with a small nod, looking up to you.

“Everything, Tae,” you emphasized, hoping he would recognize that he was everything to you.

“You really should talk to Jimin,” he changed the topic, his tone stronger as he seemed to easily move on from your unspoken confessions. Inhaling deeply, you nodded slowly, standing up straight before moving back to the groceries. Trying to shake yourself out of the conversation that just took place, you spotted the cookies sitting on the floor.

“I’ll think about it,” you replied before reaching for the package. “I’m not gonna save you any of these,” you teased, holding them up for him to see as his lips spread into a mildly amused grin.

“Well I didn’t save you any of the waffle so it’s only fair,” he played along, both of you pushing aside the tension between you both once more.

You would think about talking to Jimin, you meant that. But it would be hard to think of anything but Taehyung.  

With your thumb hovering over the call button, you sighed deeply as you tried to muster up some courage. Lowering your digit to the phone screen before you could change your mind, you nervously raised the device to your ear.

The rings were deafeningly loud as you awaited the answer, running your hand through your hair and chewing on your bottom lip; nervous gestures.

“Hey,” Jimin greeted suddenly, his voice appearing breathless as if he rushed to the phone.

“Why’d you do it?” You asked him, skipping greetings and pleasantries. A moment of silence encased the phone call before Jimin sighed.

“I don’t even fucking know anymore,” he said, a sob following the words as if he had been sitting on the edge of a break down for days; weeks. The confusion and heartbreak in his tone shattered your heart, filling you with guilt for evading his calls and texts for so long. “I don’t know if there was even a valid reason and I regret it so much.”

“I don’t understand what happened,” you admitted, thinking back upon their relationship and what they had revealed to you.

“Me either,” he barely spoke through his cracked voice. “I don’t know, it’s like, as secure as we made each other feel, it was like we could never fully rid ourselves of our own insecurities,” he explained through his cries. “I fucked up, didn’t I?” He asked as he held back tears.

“Oh Jimin,” you sighed, realizing what drove them apart. And suddenly, you had the urge to wrap them both up in hugs because in an instant, there was nowhere to place the blame you were previously placing on Jimin. It was both their faults, and also no one’s fault. Jimin had made the wrong move, your best friend didn’t make enough moves, and yet they were both just victims to their own intrusive perceptions of themselves.

“Our own shit just got in the way and-” he let out a harsh breath. “When I sent the text I immediately regretted it and I was just trying to convince myself that it was for the best,” he sniffled. “And I was about to take it all back and beg for forgiveness, fuck, I was thinking about leaving tour and coming back to her so we could fix whatever the fuck was causing all of this shit between us,” he paused as his cries took over.

“Why didn’t you take it all back?” You asked him.

You collected up the patience as you gave him time the time to think back on the breakup. “All of a sudden, she just stopped fighting,” he said sadly. “We were always fighting for each other, and she finally stopped. And I don’t know, I think it kind of cemented the idea that I did the right thing. It hurt, and it felt wrong, but she accepted the breakup and gave up.”

“Fuck, Jimin,” you held back your tears at the defeat in his voice. “She didn’t stop fighting for you, she just didn’t have enough fight left in her to take on your insecurities any longer,” you told him.  

“What’s even the difference?” He asked. “Whether she stopped fighting willfully, or whether I took the fight out of her,” he scoffed, “I became too much for her.”

“I don’t think you could ever be too much for her,” you assured him. “Look, do you want me to speak to you compassionately or truthfully?” You asked, the question being met with a dry laugh.

“You’re always compassionate, but I want the truth,” he told you, you nodding though he couldn’t see it.

“You fucked up,” you told him, “but also I don’t think this is entirely your fault,” you quickly added. With a sigh, you thought out loud. “How do I word this?” you pondered. “You two are two of the most incredible people I’ve ever known and yet, you guys can’t fucking see it.”

Jimin scoffed, making you roll your eyes. “I said I was speaking truthfully, so just listen to me and try to actually hear what I’m saying for once,” you told him, the man agreeing to listen by giving you his silence. “You see how incredible she is and that makes you insecure because you don’t see yourself living up to what she deserves. And it’s the same for her, she doesn’t think she can be what you need and what you want, despite you assuring her constantly that she’s everything to you. And that holds you both back from being exactly what the other person wants,” you paused for a moment, letting the words permeate Jimin’s brain. “If you two could just be who you are and give each other that version of yourselves, you wouldn’t be in this situation,” you explained to him. “She fell in love with you, she just wants you.”

“Fuck,” he sobbed, the pained understanding echoing in his single expression. “But I fucked it up, I hurt her and I don’t think we can fix it this time.”

“I truly do not understand how you can be so wrong about this all the fucking time,” you groaned. “She is in love with you,” you told him, enunciating the words carefully. “You hurt her, and you hurt her bad, but she hasn’t given up on you,” you told him. “Whether she admits it or not, she’s waiting for you to fix it,” you informed the man. “So fucking fix it. Stop holding yourself back and just be happy, Jimin.”

“I don’t know if-”

“Be happy,” you interrupted him. “Stop being so idiotic and just fight for your happiness. Fight for hers,” you begged him, frustration over both of your friends’ moronic actions getting the best of your patience. “You both deserve each other because you’re both the best,” you went on, trying to convey to the man how strongly you felt he and the girl you both adored belonged with each other.

“She still loves me?” He asked, being met with another one of your groans. “Sorry, I just, she does?”

“Do you still love her?” You asked, knowing the answer but wanting him to speak it out loud so maybe he could truly hear it.

“With all of me,” he admitted sadly, a sniffle following the words, allowing you to visualize the tears running down his cheeks in that moment.  

“Do you really think that’s one sided?” You asked him.  

“I really don’t know,” he admitted, a small sigh leaving your lips.  

“It’s so simple but you guys make it so complicated,” you complained, the man giving you the slightest chuckle in the form of a single exhale. “You both lost the fight, but you didn’t lose the fight for each other, you lost it to yourselves. Does that make sense?” You asked.

“I think so?” He said, thought it came out as a question.

“You guys were defeated by your own insecurities. It’s not like you chose to give up on her, just like she didn’t choose to give up on you. You both just feel hopeless right now, that’s-”

“It’s not hopeless?” He asked, and despite the negative comment, there was a renewed optimism in his tone that lifted your lips into a faint smile.

“No,” you shook your head. “It’s not hopeless.” You both sat in silence, nothing but your breaths sounding into the phone receivers. “I’ll talk to her,” you assured him. “If I get any sense that she doesn’t want you anymore, I’ll let you know and I’ll be full of apologies and you can hate me forever,” you told him.

“I could never hate you,” he scoffed.

“But if I’m right, which I know I am, Jimin, I know it,” you assured him, “then you need to find that hope and bring it back to her.”

With a sigh, Jimin agreed with a simple, “ok.”

“Ok,” you replied. “Fix it.”

“I hope I can,” he spoke softly, his voice still sad, but much less defeated than the start of the conversation.

“Hope is enough right now,” you told him.

“Thank you for finally talking to me,” he said, a hint of a smile evident in his voice.

“Thank Tae,” you corrected. “He talked me into it.”

“He really is the only one who can cut through your stubbornness, huh?” He asked teasingly, you chuckling lightly in response.

“I guess he is,” you agreed.

“Speaking of simple but making it complicated though,” Jimin noted, drawing upon your earlier words, and reflecting them back on you and your relationship with Taehyung.

“Tae and I aren’t complicated,” you negated Jimin’s observation, only to be met with a disbelieving laugh. “We aren’t,” you remained firm. “I know it seems complicated but, when it comes down to it, it’s the simplest thing ever.”

“Ok, break it down for me then,” Jimin asked for your elaboration. “How is it simple?”

“Because at the end of the day, we just love each other. So much so, that we’ll do anything to keep one another in each other’s lives,” you explained. “And that makes my relationship the simplest, easiest relationship I’ve ever had.”

Jimin hummed in return, thinking over your words. “That does sound simple, I guess,” he agreed. “But are you happy?”

You paused for a moment, surprised by the question. Were you? Were you fulfilled with Tae’s role in your life as you went and dated other people, finishing each escapade craving for more, anxious for the night to be over so you could call Taehyung and hear his voice as he expressed whatever was on his mind? The truth was, no one was or ever would be Taehyung. No matter how great they were, no matter how smart, kind, funny, genuine they were, they would never be him. But Taehyung was in your life, and maybe that was enough. So, were you happy? Turns out that’s the most complicated question you could have been asked.

“This isn’t about me,” you told Jimin with a small smile.

“Hey,” he said gently. “Are you happy?”

“I’m not unhappy,” you said assuredly. That was true, for sure.

“But is that happy?” Jimin pressed, causing you to sigh in annoyance.

“It’s happy enough,” you told him. “But one of us has to be happy, right?” You turned it back on him.

Jimin breathed out your name, but you dismissed him. “This is about you right now,” you told him. “If you fix things on your end, then we can entertain a discussion about my happiness, ok?” You asked him, though it wasn’t really a topic up for debate which he understood.

“Deal,” he agreed with a light chuckle.

Happiness, you thought. What was it? You were sure it was different for everyone. Just as you were sure it comes from many different sources. For you, though, your main source of happiness was seeing Taehyung smile. His happiness mattered most in terms of your relationship. And if he was happy being your friend and having you as his, then you were happy. Happy enough.

If he wasn’t happy… well, something would have to be done about that.

[juniorgman187]

Sleight of Hand (Reid Fic)

Summary: Practical Joker Reader makes the unsuspecting naive Dr. Reid the object of her most recent prank - stealing his ID badge.  Category: Pure Fluff, Drabble, One Shot Pairing: Platonic Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid Content Warning: Super brief mentioning of dark nature of job, prank Word Count: 2k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

Despite what anyone else may believe, or what my resting face may convey, I’m not a mean person. I don’t take pleasure in people’s pain, and I certainly don’t intend to hurt anyone.  

With that being said - I do thoroughly enjoy messing with people from time to time. Which, in my opinion, is a completely different thing than being mean. 

At work, I’m known for pulling harmless pranks. Keyword: harmless. The dark nature that surrounds our job can consume us whole if we let it, and if anyone needs a good laugh here and there, it’s the BAU. Sometimes we all just need reminders that life shouldn’t be taken so seriously, and my silly antics are just the remedy. 

A window of opportunity for my most recent practical joke presented itself when I was packing up to leave for the day. 

Right across my desk was Reid’s and to my right was Derek’s, but at the moment, Reid was parked at the kitchenette, diligently stirring his coffee and copious amounts of sugar packets together while Derek’s head was buried six feet deep in paperwork. I could tell they would both be in for a long night and I didn’t envy them for that. 

“Alright, I’m out!” I announced to them both, but before I could actually get far, Derek stopped me. 

“Wait, (y/n)! Hold up,” He sat up from his chair to reach me with an outstretched arm. “Can you put this back on Reid’s desk?” 

I blinked hard when he tossed an object at me, so only after I caught it did I open my eyes and realize it was just a pen. 

“Wow. Lazy much?” I scoffed, gesturing to Reid’s desk that was less than seven feet away. Derek was probably exerting more effort into stretching out his arm like that to give me the pen as opposed to if he just got off his butt and walked to the desk himself.

“Pleaseee,” He partially begged, causing me to roll my eyes and replace the pen dutifully. As I slipped the pen into its rightful spot in his little cup of writing utensils, something caught my eye.

Lightbulb!

Just sitting there on Spencer’s desk was his badge. It was so carelessly placed in comparison to everything else on the table that had been situated in such a carefully, almost calculated, manner.

I knew Spencer had a habit of taking it off at the end of the day, but it baffled me just how flippantly he treated it. I figured he coveted his badge, but his haphazard placement of it suggested otherwise, while simultaneously showing his humanity to me. He wasn’t so cookie-cutter perfect after all, he could be messy, too.

It was that epiphany that almost made me not want to tamper with it, but it was my own humor that pushed me to do it anyway. 

Maybe it’s time Spencer learned a lesson, rather than being the one to teach it. 

If he was going to just let this thing lie around like it was nothing, then how would he react if it wasn’t there at all? 

I slyly looked up from the badge and to Spencer, whose back was still turned to me in the kitchen and then to Derek, who was too focused on his work to even notice that I was still here. Fully taking advantage of Spencer’s oblivion and the lack of a witness in Derek, I slipped the ID swiftly into my purse. Even if Derek wasn’t the type to be a snitch, it was better that absolutely no one knew.

Less than a millisecond after successfully concealing the badge within my bag, Spencer finally turned around and saw me lingering by his desk.

“What are you still doing here?” He asked with the slightest bit of suspicion in his voice. There was no way he could’ve known what’d I’d just done unless he had eyes at the back of his head, so I stayed calm and collected, relishing in my guaranteed safety.

“Derek wanted me to return your pen,” I explained casually from across the bullpen. I watched as Spencer strolled unhurriedly towards me, and it might’ve been my paranoia that led me to this belief, but I swore I saw his eyes dart to his desk momentarily. However, if he had noticed the absence of his badge, he didn’t say anything. 

“Oh, thanks! Have a good night.” He smiled and waved back to me, showing no indication of mistrust. 

Sucker. 

“You, too!” I said with more zeal than the situation warranted. I was worried that might’ve given me away, but I had timed my escape so perfectly that I was already in the elevator by the time he returned to his desk, giving him no chance to inquire about my uncharacteristic behavior. 

That was a close one. 

When I came in the next morning, Spencer wasn’t there yet. Which was slightly strange given the fact that I was barely on time, so if he came in at any point after my own arrival, Spencer would be considered late for work. Occurrences like that only happen once in a blue moon, and usually, the reason for them are mysterious haircuts or something’s wrong. I hoped for his sake it was the former. 

Now you might consider me an impeccable troublemaker, but I’d first and foremost be rendered outstandingly forgetful. I say this only because I had completely forgotten that I stole Spencer’s badge the night before. But can you blame me? It was stashed away in my purse, hidden to my immediate sight, and the object was so small that it didn’t stick out to me or add an excess of weight in my bag that would serve as an unintentional reminder. It never once crossed my mind, not even when I looked to Derek to ask, “Where’s Reid?”

With a coffee mug in one hand, Derek put his arms out to either side of him and shrugged. Suddenly, the mug precariously shook from the draft created by someone blowing right by him. 

It was Reid.

“Whoa, slow your roll there, Pretty Boy. Almost knocked my coffee over.” Derek reprimanded playfully, clutching on tighter to his precious coffee that almost succumbed to Spencer’s speed when he breezed by.

But rather than apologizing or laughing, Spencer kept on his pursuit. Since the time he got here, his eyes were glued to his desk with determination. Even as he approached his desk, he hadn’t yet acknowledged me or Derek. Instead, he was mumbling to himself while haphazardly sorting through his desk. He was frantic and in disarray, a manner that worried both me and Derek.

“What’s wrong, Reid?” I leaned forward to observe his desk, which by now, was what I had to think was a direct reflection of his brain - completely chaotic. Papers were scattered, books were open to random pages, he even emptied out his well-maintained writing utensil cup. 

“I lost my badge.” He answered with his attention still trained on finding it. Luckily for me, that meant he couldn’t see the sudden smirk that grew on my face as a result of his response. There was no way to hide my entertainment without biting down on my lip to keep it from contorting into a smile or perching my head on my hand and using my knuckles to hide my devilish grin. 

“When’s the last time you had it?” Derek was surprisingly just as concerned as Reid and just as eager to help him find it, even setting down his coffee on his own desk to help Reid sort through his. 

“I always take it off at the end of the day, and I remember setting it on my desk, but I didn’t take it home with me. I don’t recall even leaving here with it, so I must’ve left it somewhere here.” 

At this point, my unbridled enjoyment of this was too much to physically contain, that I actually had to spin my chair a complete 180 degrees just to shield them from the sight of my imminent laughter. 

“(Y/n), do you remember seeing it -” Derek’s voice overpowered my muffled giggles, and when he looked up to ask me that, he would’ve seen my shuddering shoulders from where I was laughing hard, yet noiselessly. I spun my chair back around and looked at him with cool indifference. 

He quickly noted the shade of red I had turned and profiled the situation. But rather than outing me, he followed the instruction of my index finger to my lips and stayed quiet. 

I took his alliance as an opportunity to nonchalantly retrieve the badge from my purse. At a tantalizingly slow pace, I raised it in the air, until it was so high, Reid would be able to see it dangling from my thumb and forefinger. 

“Looking for this?” 

Spencer’s gaze immediately shot upward to look right at the badge, before flashing to me. 

What part of him reacted first, I wasn’t sure. Was it the sigh of relief or the flared nostrils and clenched jaw that came soon after? 

He wasn’t even going to say anything to me before grabbing it from me, that’s how pissed he was. But my quick reflexes lunged me backward at the same moment he reached out to get his badge from me, preventing him from successfully taking it back. I couldn’t believe he actually tried that and thought it would work. 

“Ah, ah, ah,” I wagged my finger left to right to communicate my disapproval. “Not so fast, Pretty Boy. I want something in return.”

He shot me the most deadpan glare. “What do you want?” 

I put my finger to my chin and looked up to coyly think about it, but more so to extend his torture for just a few seconds longer. I could feel him staring a hole into me as he grew more and more impatient. “Well, it’s gotta be something good. I mean, imagine what would’ve happened if this landed in the wrong hands.” 

“Evidently, it did.” He coldly replied. 

“Ouch,” I feigned offense and brought my hand to my chest to clutch my heart with a short gasp. “I’m so hurt,” I said with the biggest pout.

He was not nearly as entertained as I was, and his lack of amusement came in the form of a stoic, “I’ll teach you sleight of hand.” 

My body actually had to reboot at the sound of his proposal. “Wait, are you serious?” I clarified. 

“Yes. It physically pains me every time I watch you try to do it, so I figure it’s better for me if I teach you how to do it properly instead of having to sit through another one of your lousy, pathetic magic tricks.”

I would’ve been offended, but I’d been begging him to teach me sleight of hand for months, so the insults were quickly disregarded by me in case he changed his mind during the time I’d take up being hurt by his cruelty.  

“Deal,” I smirked while handing him his badge back. 

Needless to say, I did teach the good doctor a lesson, but it seems he still hasn’t learned … for why would you teach the biggest practical joker in the office sleight of hand? That only adds to my arsenal of tricks I have up my sleeve to use against my coworkers.

Maybe I should teach Spencer another lesson and see if he learns this time around.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

reid taglist: @s1utformgg @no-alarms-no-surprises-silence @jemimah-b99 @justanothetfangirl @kylab @rainsong01 @calm-and-doctor @inkstainedwritergirl @rexorangecouny @ashwarren32 @carooliina @fortheloveofcriminalminds @watermelongubler  @obsessedmaggiemay @k-k0129 @aperrywilliams @eevee0722​ @spencersmagic​ @spencerreid-mgg​ @half-blood-dork​ @goldeng1rl8​ @just-a-bunch-of-fandoms​ 

[maybebanks]

I Noticed You

jj maybank x kook! reader

“Alright, Sarah. Bye now,” you groaned, stepping out past her white painted bedroom door.

“Noooo,” she whined, “don’t leave,”

“I gotta go.” You pouted, “my dad wants me home,”

“Fine. Be like that.” She waved you off.

“Your parents are way less strict then mine!” You argued.

“Uh huh,” Sarah responded sarcastically, “I’m gonna miss you, bitch,” she smiled.

“Okay...see ya,” you waved while walking through the door.

You continued down the hallway, it was a sort of narrow hallway, but you’ve been down it many times before.

“Hey Y/n,” you heard Rafe’s voice call for you, he was leaning casually against his door frame.

“Oh..hey,” you answer, stopping infront of him.

You had to look up to talk to him because he was taller than you.

“Can we talk for a minute?” Rafe asks. You had no idea why he would want to talk to you. I mean, he’s always been nice to you, but he was nearly 20. And you were barely 17.

You nodded, following his gesture for you to come into his room.

He closed the door after you. You just stood by the window. Raising your eyebrows at his suspicious actions.

You looked behind you and saw their backward looking fresh, a Pogue, you think his name is JJ but you didn’t know him well, mowing the lawn.

“I have to be quick. I promised to be home,” you mentioned.

Rafe smiled, not saying anything, just looking at you.

You fumbled with your crop top, “So..what’s this about?” You asked.

“You know how long I’ve been trying to get you alone. You and Sarah...it’s non stop,” he said.

“What?” You asked, very confused in general.

“You were at Toppers party right? Damn..when I saw you snort that coke I was like...this girl...she’s bad,” he chuckled.

“Oh...that was-that was a mistake. I don’t do drugs like that anymore,” you reassured, feeling regretful about that mistake.

He laughed, “don’t lie to yourself, baby. Just think of the fun we could have together,”

Is this some kind of flirting?

“Look...uh, I have to go. Talk later?” you opened the door a bit but Rafe slammed it shut.

“What the hell?” You asked angerly.

Rafe scoffed, “hanging out with Sarah makes you a real bitch,”

“Rafe...I have to go!” You raised your voice. This seemed to anger him. For next, he lunged towards you, trapping you against the wall.

“You think you can tell me what to fucking do?” He asked, his voice surprisingly calm.

When you saw his eyes, you could tell he was high.

“No, I’m-“ you began but stopped yourself when the door creaked open.

Wheezie’s brunette head peaked through the crack of the door.

When she saw both of you, her eyes turned confused.

Rafe moved off of you, “Wheezie, get out of here,” he ordered.

She didn’t argue like she usually would, she didn’t even exchange a glance at you. Just left the room, leaving the door a crack open.

“Shit,” you whispered involuntarily.

“Tell me, Y/n, what’s it gonna take?” he asked.

“Hi!” Wheezie shouted over the loud noise of the lawnmower. Waving her hand towards the boy out in the field.

JJ chuckled, he mowed the lawn for the Cameron’s once or twice a week. Wheezie was basically the only Cameron to talk to him, she would test out flirted to him, even though he was a pogue.

JJ turned the lawn mower off, walking over to Wheezie.

“What’s up?” JJ asked, honestly, he enjoyed a break from his work, and he would never get in trouble becuase Wheezie would defend him.

“So...uh...I don’t know for sure. But I think Rafe is gonna hurt her. And he’s kinda....you know, I mean he does drugs. I saw him this morning! Anyway, he’s in his room and I think-“

“Whoa! Slow down! Who’s gonna hurt who?” JJ asked, now concerned.

“Just put on a shirt and come with me!” She demanded, pulling him by his wrist towards the house.

“I don’t think your parents would be okay with me comin’ in,” JJ chuckled again.

“Just...okay...you know Y/n right? She’ll kill me if she knew I brough you into this becuase she hates attention or whatever but I’m worried, because you know...Rafe has a thing for her and I’m just worried he might try to kiss her and...” She trailed off, but JJ knew what she meant.

He frowned, “You sure I should go in there? What if she wants it. I mean, a lot of kook girls hook up with Rafe,”

“TMI!” Wheezie exclaimed, “anyway, Y/n isn’t one of those kook girls. She’s wayy too good for Rafe. Plus I think she’s into surfer boys,” Wheezie shrugs.

JJ sighs, “alright fine. But you owe me for this,” JJ began walking up the stairs, “what, you not comin’?”

“I am not about to get yelled at by Rafe. Plus I’ll cover the fort down here, so my parents don’t get involved.”

When he finally made it to the second floor, he heard your voice. You weren’t strangers, you’ve met once or twice, but JJ always thought you were way out of his league. And that was saying something.

“Rafe seriously. My dads gonna kill me!” You stated, pushing against Rafe’s rather buff chest.

“Who cares about your dad, Y/n. Just get on your knees,” he stated.

JJ felt disgusted. Even he knew that was no way to talk to a girl.

He stood outside the parted door.

“No, asshole,” you said bluntly, trying to get around him again.

He grabbed your wrist, harshly, pulling you back so you hit the wall. You moaned in pain when the doorknob from his closet door hit your back.

That’s when JJ interfered.

He pushed open the door to make his presence known.

You both looked up at him at the same time.

Rafe immediately stepped back from you, and you pushed the sleeve of your shoulder back to covering yourself.

“Everything alright in here?” JJ asked, studying the situation.

Rafe sniffled slightly nervously, he knew he probobly couldn’t take JJ in a fight due to all the drugs he’s on.

Rafe looked at you, to which you immediately understood, “uh...we are fine. Thanks JJ,” you answered, clearly nervous.

He was surprised, and unexpectedly flattered, when you addressed him by his name.

JJ thought fast, “there is a car here for Y/n,” JJ lied. But you believed it, and so did Rafe.

Rafe scratches the back of his neck, “Okay Y/n...have fun.” Rafe said as you stepped out of the room.

You wanted to flip him off, but JJ was right behind you.

When you got outside, JJ was about to tell you there was no car, but he couldn’t when you thre your arms around his torso, a hug, where you rested your head on his chest.

“Whoa,” he chuckled.

“Thank you, J, you have no idea...” you mumbled.

JJ slowly moved his arm to hug you back. But when his hand reached your mid back, you took a sharp intake of breath and pulled away.

“Sorry, for that. You really saved me back there,” you explained, looking up at him.

“It’s not problem. Oh and by the way, there’s no car here for you,” JJ mentioned.

“Oh...right. Shit I kinda need a ride. You looked around. Until your eyes landed on JJ again.

He studied you.

“What? Do I have something on my face?” You asked.

“No...” JJ shook his head, “this is the most you’ve ever talked to me,” he blurted. Kinda regretting not usuing his usual approach when talking to girls.

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ignore you before. I just didn’t want to get you in trouble,” you explained, “but I have noticed you,”

Your phone dinged, and that’s when you remember to check the time, “shit,” you blurted.

“What’s wrong?”

“Just...my dads gonna kill me. I was suppose to be home like an hour ago,” you sigh, still nervous.

You noticed JJ tense, “I can give you a ride? The van is gonna smell like weed though,” he winked, gesturing for you to follow him.

You nodded, following him down the driveway to where his “busted” van was parked.

“I’m not usually this helpless, you know,” you blurted, wanting him to know you for the real you.

“Oh believe me, I know,” he chuckles, opening the van door for you.

He was surprised by himself, again. He’s never cared enough to open the door for anyone. But it was so simple you probobly wouldn’t notice.

You smiled, at him and hopped in. There were some all black aviators and a red SnapBack on the seat. Which you moved so you wouldn’t sit on them.

As JJ walked around the van, you couldn’t find anywhere to put them, with all the clutter around, so you just decided to wear the sunglasses and his hat.

When he opened the car his eyes widened in excitement, “looks good on you Y/n,” he said starting the van.

“Who the hells that? I’m JJ,” you joked. When you took a deep breath, you scrunched you’re nose at the stench.

“Whoo,” you sighed, “it’s strong in here. What’d you hotbox or something?” You continued with the JJ impression.

“How do you know me so well?” JJ laughed and grabbed the hat off your head and placed it backwards on his own.

“Just guessin’,” you shrugged, moving the sunglasses farther down your nose.

“Where’s your place?” JJ asked as he turned the wheel.

“Uh...” you trailed off when you noticed Rafe running out of the house, looking angry, waving at the van.

“Shit! JJ go!! Drive!” You commanded. Grabbing his hand and forcing it on the wheel.

You knew Rafe would judge you for spending time with a Pogue, and he would also be mad.

“Calm down, princess,” JJ responded, stepping on the gas.

You immediately retracted, “sorry.” You muttered.

He pulled out of the driveway quick and started heading down the wrong road.

“Where are you going?” You asked, slightly nervous now.

“Back to my place. Since you didn’t tell me where yours was,”

“Wait...uh it’s down that road. I’d really love to hang but I gotta be home,” you told him.

“Ya sure?” JJ said turning the wheel and heading down your street.

You nodded.

“No, I mean, kook princess, would be down to hang with a Pogue?” JJ asked.

You pointed to the pastel yellow mansion with terra-cotta roofing, “of course JJ, I think you’re dope,”

“Holy shitt,” JJ moaned when he saw your house, admiring its beauty and the boat you had parked in the front.

“Jesus, what id give to be a kook,” he mumbled.

“Trust me, it’s not as good as it-“

“Y/N!!!” Your father shouts, he must have seen you pull in.

“Fuck,” you muttered.

JJs heat started to race, that was so damn hot.

You pulled of the sunglasses and placed them on the dash.

“See ya later, and also, you can come over any time use any materials you like. My brother got a new surf board and then went off to college, it’s all yours if you want it,”

JJ smirked, perks of having a kook friend that lived with a family that bought status symbols with their money, “can I get your number?”

“Yeah, it’s-“

You both stopped at the banging on JJs window.

Your father, was urgently yelling, “Y/N get out here right now. Your late for training, god damn it,” it was muffled, but you both understood.

“Training?” JJ questioned.

“See you at the Cameron’s,” you winked, then hopped out of the car and joined your dad inside the kook mansion.

JJ contemplated a life with you, only for a moment, then pulled out of your, rather long, stone driveway.

happy friday !

my masterlist

[nebraska-is-a-myth]

oh dreammmm. Shut up Tommy.

Okay so I was watching Tommy's stream today and it gave me this very out of character idea for my crime au.

The pilot episode: 2 & 4

Masterlist

Its a few days after the dream teams public execution that terrorized the city. 

Dream, George and sapnap are hanging out in a backstreet bar that's notoriously know to be one of the many criminal friendly bars around the city. Even though all of their faces were partially revealed to the public, nobody seemed to bat an eyelid at the trio. They didn't even look like criminals at all to be honest

They were all laughing and joking and just having an all round good time

Until dream heads home early to feed his cat, and feels a presence behind him as he walks through the streets to his apartment.

He turns round and pins the person to the alley wall just as he felt a hand near his back pocket

“Woah-o-ho okay okay” Dream swears he hears the guys voice crack

“Hey man, that's my bad. I’m sure we can work things out, just please don't shank me, my mum wants me home by 11.”

Dream furrows his eyebrows and looks the guy up and down.

Actually, now that he thinks about it, he looks more like a kid

He’s got a thin frame and straggly hair that he cant tell weather its light brown, or just dirty. His face is red but mostly pale with a few cuts and a large purpling black eye on the left side of his face. The kids facial expression takes dream by surprise. He doesn't look like someone whose being pinned to the wall by, basically a mass murderer. 

In fact, he looks like someone he knows.

“Tommy?”

This is the kid that used to follow techno everywhere.

“Well I mean yes but, h-how do you know that if you don't mind me asking big man.”

Dream releases Tommy and steps back from the wall, the kid looks confused but he follows closely behind when the taller of the two motions for him to join him out of the alley.

Tommy smirks for a second until dream turns back around

“Wallet first.”

Tommy sulks for the rest of the walk

Its a few months later and Tommy looks a bit older, he’s still covered in bruises and his hair is still dirty. He’s sat on top of one of the larger buildings in the city, swinging his legs over the edge and looking down into the street below 

He knows Wilbur will be worrying where he’s gotten to, especially since tensions in the city are so high right now, but he needed to get away. He needed time to think.

He looks up to the stars and thinks of how alone he felt when techno disappeared without a trace. Remembers feeling so upset with the world, so worthless and lost. He still thinks it was his fault the kingpin of the city went away. Maybe he had finally gotten fed up with Tommy, maybe he’d annoyed him too much, he knows he was defiantly being too clingy. And he thinks a part of him will always deem himself to be a burden to others.

But then he met dream, and life changed.

( Or rather, he pickpocketed dream and suddenly this strange man he tried to steal from wanted him in his life )

And suddenly he felt less alone

He learnt very quickly that the man he tried to pickpocket was in fact the masked man he’d been watching all over the news, and man did he annoy the hell out of the dream with the amount of questions he asked.

He didn't know why the older man wanted to keep him around, especially since he knew of his close connections to his ( former ) rival technoblade, but he was very grateful for the friendship regardless.

Dreams friends weren't as quick to trust him, and tommy didn't blame them. ( He did try to steal a number of there possessions )

He remembers the first heist dream ever brought him on. He was supposed to be on crowd control with sapnap, but one of the hostages lunged at Tommy when sapnaps back was turned, wrestling the startled kid to the ground. Tommy was never the best at winning fights, he usually just let his opponents get a few hits in and then they would usually walk away with whatever possessions he had on him, but this guy wasn't backing down. 

He hit Tommy a few times before taking the gun from his hands and pointing it in his face. He remembers this as one of the only times in his life he showed how truly scared he was infront of other people.

The guy tried to use Tommy as negotiation to let everyone out of the bank unharmed, neither sapnap nor George knew how to handle the situation, but as soon Tommy saw Dream re emerge from the vault pistol in hand, he didn't feel scared anymore.

Tommy smirks at the memory and looks up from where he was watching his feet swing back and forth, in the distance he sees the rubble of the bank and he almost wishes he could go back to that day just to see if he could tell if Dreams worry was just another ploy for the public .

The young boy hears the creak of the metal door behind him and he knows its Dream. He doesn't turn around to look at the man, he doesn't even really want to have this conversation, but he cant pretend like there's nothing wrong forever. Dream knows him now, knows his queues and quirks and even through the stress of an incoming war, he knows that Tommy's upset.

“Shouldn't you be in l’manberg”

Dream doesn't join tommy on the ledge 

“You know its not safe for you here.”

Tommy doesn't look at him

“Tommy”

“What dream!”

“Oh so its dream now is it.”

“Yeah its fucking dream”

“What the hell Tommy, what's you deal man .”

“What's my deal? I’ll tell you what my fucking deal is.”

Tommy stands up from the ledge and pushes himself into dream space. “Why were you so persistent to become my friend ay. You knew, you knew I had connections to techno, pretty fucking close connections dream. And even when the people you trusted with your life told you over and over again that I was gunna fuck you over, you went against them to keep me, fucking me in your life. Why the fuck did you want a scrawny ass, shit for brains, worthless fucking kid in you life dream? Was it to get back at techno? Was it ! Because I cant think of any other fucking reason dream!” Tommy was so caught up in his own anger he almost didn't hear dreams reply.

“He asked me to!”

Tommy's breath hitches and he feels like times stood still, for a second he forgets how to breath, how to think. He doesn't know how to feel.

Tommy watches Dreams facial expression, only just notices that he hasn't got his mask on. He watches Dream furrow his eyebrows and then soften as he try's to put his hand on Tommy's shoulder, but the younger boy just swats his hand away. “Don't touch me.” Tommy try's to be aggressive but Dream sees how tired tommy is and he notices the tears building up along his waterline.

Its a while before Tommy speaks again

 “What do you mean, he asked you to.”

“He didn't do it in person, probably would have shot him otherwise. He sent me a letter, few days after everyone realized he’d gone for good. It was smart, sending something that wasn't digital, probably would have been hacked by some shitty fangroup by now. Told me he was going, and that he probably wasn't going to come back. Told me to look out for you, to tell you not to go looking for him, and than none of this was your fault cause he knew you were a stupid kid who would blame everything on yourself.”

Tommy's a lot calmer now, he still feels tears threatening to spill but he doesn't make an effort to wipe them away. “Why didn't you tell me.”

“Didn't think it would make a difference. Thought it would just make you think I was only looking after you because of a debt.”

“Arnt you?”

“You think Id put up with your teenage bullshit for this long if I didn't care about your stupid ass.”

Tommy searches his friends face for anything, any indicator that he was telling a lie. Out in the field when his masks on he’s unreadable, his expression is worthless because everything he does is an act. But when he’s talking to his friends, in the comfort of their headquarters or their apartment, his expressions change like the weather. So when Tommy sees dream give him warm eyes and a soft smile, he cries.

He sobs and falls into dreams arms. He wraps his arms around his friend and for the first time he hugs dream without feeling like a burden of any kind and he feels like the world has been lifted from his shoulders.

Dream lets Tommy sob into his embrace for a while before he addresses the elephant in the room. “Your not safe outside l’manberg Tommy.”

“I know.” Tommy mumbles into dreams tear stained shoulder.

“You know I cant promise that your friends wont get hurt tomorrow.”

Tommy only nods at this

“Knew you'd be to stubborn to give up on this.”

Tommy smiles and lifts his head, “Have my disks thought you nothing old man.”

“Hey! I'm not that old.”

They step away from each other now, Tommy hovers at the door to the roof. The sun would start to rise soon, and he needs to get back to his part of the city before Wilbur has a heart attack. They stand there, so many things left unsaid. Tommy wants to tell dream to spare Tubbo, to make him tell the Dream smp not to kill his friend, but even Tommy's immunity is falling apart at this point. Dream wants to tell Tommy to convince his friends to surrender, he doesn't want the boy to see the bloodshed. Maybe he even wants to convince him not to take part in the war at all, but he knows his attempts would be futile.

“Hey, whatever happens out there tomorrow.”

Tommy cuts dream off and just nods “I know.”

They look at each other one last time, both wishing tomorrow would never come. Tommy's eyes water again, he knows he’s doing the right thing, for him, for his friends, and for l’manberg.

Tommy slips out the door and he never looks back

[linkspooky]

Hello! Do you think that one day, Deku's flaws will have consequences? You pointed out that Shigaraki always face consequences for them, so in your opinion, do you think the manga could lead to something more equal on this? I know he is the Hero and all, but wouldn't it undermind the whole thing if in the end he just ignores the society's problems by just pushing heroism as the miracle solution?

Good question, anon. Let’s take a more serious look at Deku’s flaws. Deku so far has two main flaws. 

Self-Harming - Deku has consistently valued himself less than others. His way of saving others almost always includes breaking his own body, and when you consider how low Deku’s self esteem is and how he was constantly told he would never be good enough to be a hero growing up this pattern of behavior borders on self-harming. 

Hero Worship - Deku doesn’t question anything about hero society, which makes him incredibly naive and unaware of what’s going on in the world around him. Deku hasn’t done anything yet to seperate himself from being just another All Might Wannabe. Deku wants to save people, but doesn’t really even know what saving people means. 

Deku doesn’t care if he gets hurt, and Deku doesn’t sympathize with villains, even ones who have sympathetic reasons for their actions, and this has led to Deku running off without thinking to try to fight Shigaraki to the death. 

1. Self Harm

So one possible interpretation of Deku’s habits of breaking his body when trying to save people is that he’s internalized the idea that without a quirk, he can’t become a hero. Everything that other people including bullies like Bakugo told him when he was younger, that he’s worthless because he was born quirkless, that he can’t become a hero, over and over again is still inside of him. 

Even what All Might tells him at first is a repettition of this idea. Deku can only be a hero if he’s strong. What’s most important to becoming a hero is strength, and having a strong quirk. Even though All Might eventually opens up the path for Deku being a hero, he only lets him after he proves his strength. Deku has to reach a certain power threshold before he’s even allowed to be at the starting lines. 

Every single character in class UA is hardworking, but Deku is especially characterized as being OBSESSED with training, and also being the one who pushes himself to such extremes that his body is constantly on the verge of breaking. 

Deku as a character is constantly told how worthless he is, because he wasn’t born with a quirk, because he’s borrowing someone else’s power, because he didn’t deserve to succeed All Might. Deku’s response to this has always been to try to prove his worth by pushing himself. 

Deku’s very unhealthy idea of what a hero is, also resembles what All Might told him in the first chapter. That heroes have to risk their lives in incredibly risky ways like this in order to walk the walk. Deku has always worshipped All Might’s way of always sacrificing himself without realizing what absolute havoc All Might wreaked on ihs body. 

Deku’s habit of breaking himself has shown to have had some consequences so far. It made his mom cry. He was warned that he would do permanent damage to his left arm if he ever suffered a serious break like that again and would even eventually lose it. There’s also All Might’s early forced retirement which happened because he kept on going when everyone told him to stop, which is a possible future for Deku if he doesn’t seriously change his ways. However, there is no lasting consequence yet. 

Another thing that’s important about Deku’s character is that he wants to be a hero so badly, and yet doesn’t really seem to know what kind of hero he wants to be. 

Deku so far has imitated All Might in a very empty way, without ever thinking that the heroes he loves so much might be flawed, or really understanding how many mistakes All Might made. His hero worship blinds him to the hero’s flaws, and when he’s confronted with All Might’s mistakes he’s often completely blindsided.

All Might keeps secrets from him pretty regularly, and Deku just doesn’t question him because he’s just so busy in his hero worship. Due to that a lot of Deku’s progression as a character has stagnated. Even his idea of what a hero is, is extremely vague at best. 

Deku says he wants to be the greatest hero who saves everyone. Much like Mirio who wanted to be a hero who saved a million people. However, what does that mean? How is Deku going to surpass All Might. He hasn’t really thought about these things yet, or what kind of hero he’s going to be. 

Because Deku can’t see the flaws in the hero system he can’t really be better than the previous generation of heroes. 

2. Self Destruction

Deku has a critical lack of self awareness. His goal is to save everyone, but he doesn’t really think of what that means. Aren’t villains in need of saving too? This relates back to the Dabi quote. 

Who is it that really needs saving? 

Villains need to be stopped, but what creates those villains? 

Deku’s sympathies always lie with the pro-heroes but he’s so wrapped up in hero worship he doesn’t really think about their actions. Remember, Deku’s last big fight against this was against Chisaki a child abuser to protect Eri, an abused child. 

Eri doesn’t just resemble Shigaraki. Eri is Shigaraki. They’re both children who were kidnapped by crimelords when they were young, told that they were monsters because of their quirks, and then experimented on. Shigaraki can’t consent to being experimented on because he was kidnapped since he was five and groomed all along with the intent that one day he would have this surgery performed on him so he could inherit AFO. 

Ujiko commits horrible grievous experimentation on Shigaraki, and then says he’s doing this all for Shigaraki’s sake, that he’s given him everything. He’s supposed to sound like an abusive parent here. 

So this time rather than fighting to save Eri, Deku is fighting against Eri’s foil, but all grown up, with about zero self awareness. What allowed Deku to win in the fight against Chisaki was his ability to see the good in Eri, and fight against Chisaki’s insistence that she was a monster because she was born with a dangerous quirk. He humanized Eri.

But, his response to Shigaraki is consistent dehumanization. Deku fought against Chisaki’s dehumanization of Eri, but is on the side of people who say things like this about Shigaraki. 

It’s once again this blind loyalty and inability to question what we see is an extremely flawed system. Who is it in this situation that really needs saving? Endeavor? Gran Torino? 

Gran Torino is partially at fault for the creation of Shigaraki, because if he had stopped Nana Shimura from abandoning her son, or even checked up on Koutarou and Tenko just once this entire situation could have been avoided. 

It all goes back to Dabi’s question. Who is the one who needs saving here?

The biggest victims of the hero system, the ones most in need of saving are the villains, but Deku can’t see that, so he can’t really do anything to help them right now. 

And yes. Deku should save Shigaraki. That’s the point of their foiling. They’re both Jungian Shadows of each other. 

In Jungian psychology, the shadow, (also known as id, shadow aspect, or shadow archetype) is either an unconscious aspect of the personality that the conscious ego does not identify in itself; or the entirety of the unconscious, i.e., everything of which a person is not fully conscious. In short, the shadow is the unknown side.

Shigaraki is Deku’s foil and opposite, but they’re also like... the exact same dude. 

The fact that Shigaraki started in the same place as Deku, that what he really needed was for someone to tell him that he could be a hero too, isn’t just there to be sad and tragic. It means that deep down, Shigaraki still wants someone to tell him he can be a hero, to show him another path other than being a villain, the same way All Might once told Deku he could be a hero. 

The shadow is a part of yourself.  The shadow is who you are deep down inside. That’s why a shadow can’t be killed.  It’s the same thing as self destruction. 

A shadow has to be reconciled. Part of self improvement is just learning to accept and look at the worst parts of yourselves in order to move on from them. You don’t get better by denying or remaining ignorant of the problem. Deku has consistently refused to even acknowledge Shigaraki. 

Deku has said I can never understand you, we’re nothing alike, and yet we as the audience know they’re like the exact same guy. There’s no point in setting up such a parallel unless it’s going to be paid off in some way.

Deku’s not trying to accept his shadow though, he’s fighting with everything he has to destroy his shadow, and that shouldn’t work. 

Metaphorically.

It’s like Deku is trying to destroy himself. Which as I’ve said above Deku has a tendency to be self destructive. Star Wars doesn’t end with Luke killing Darth Vader, it ends with Luke reconciling with Anakin his father. 

Deku is warned several times in the last chapter not to charge straight ahead at Shigaraki, not to fight him on his own. We even see Bakugo in the flashback talk about how Deku doesn’t consider himself in the equation, or think about protecting himself at all which is why he destroys his own body so much.

So, if even Bakugo is like Deku you’re going to get yourself killed, and every adult around him is yelling at Deku to run away because he might get himself killed, and Deku himself thinks.  I don’t care what happens to me I’m going to destroy Shigaraki no matter what. Then, there should be a conseqeunce here.

 Because this. This is self destruction. Deku’s trying to kill the guy that is... literally just him. 

In other words if everybody if yelling Deku don’t do the thing. And then Deku just, does the thing anyway. There should be a consequence!  Deku’s goal isn’t to destroy Shigaraki, or to kill him to put a stop to him, it’s reconciliation with his jungian shadow. It should be to become the hero who saves everyone, by telling Shigaraki the words he wanted to hear for a long time that he can be a hero too. FInally passing on the words All Might gave him to someone else, and making up for the previous generation’s mistakes with Shigaraki. 

So, not only is Deku attempting to do the wrong thing. He’s also fighting in the wrong way (by hurting himself again). 

Which means, Deku probably shouldn’t win this fight. A good consequence would be Deku losing here, even with the last minute power up, and breaking his entire body trying to defeat Shigaraki. 

Characters are most interesting when they fail, and Deku should fail here. 

[tokyoghoose]

something that never was

pairing: daisuke kambe x reader

playlist: even if it's a lie - matt maltese*, a soulmate who wasn't meant to be - jessica benko, the less i know the better - tame impala, id rather go blind - beyonce ( cadillac records ), the house we never built - gabrielle aplin*, i cant make you love me - dave thomas junior, i go crazy - orla gartland, blow my brains out - tikkle me, hidden in the sand - tally hall

warnings: angst, mentions of cheating,

summary: the coldness he radiates gets the best of you, ultimately leading to the end.

announcements!

i dont really see daisuke cheating unless it was a misunderstanding or smth, but i liked the idea of this fic. Let me know what you think!

you can tell i didnt write this in a sitting lol. Im vv sorry if it's hard to follow!

feedback is welcome and appreciated! requests are open!

There's a warm body beside you, yet the bed feels cold. The arm around your waist feels almost as foreign as the face in front of you. It hurts to look at him, to feel him. It hurts to even be around him. He's so beautiful but he feels like half the man he once was. It's disheartening.

Maybe the saying, what you don't know can't hurt you is correct because you were feeling the repercussions right about now. Curiosity really did kill the cat, and at this point, you don't even know how to get satisfaction from it. How does one bring up cheating to their partner? Especially when the partner is like Daisuke.

He likes to brush things off without paying a price except for whatever was in his bank account, the type to hand you a card and say 'go get yourself something pretty.' And it wasn't like he was a bad lover, in fact, it was very easy to fall in love with him. He has a charm about him that's magnetic, one glance and suddenly it's impossible to look away. Or at least that was your experience.

With the final confirmation that closing your eyes will do nothing other than bringing pictures into your head, you turn your back to him and try and distance your body from his. It doesn't do anything to help when he pulls you closer subconsciously, except for maybe it makes you want to cry.

You'd confront him tomorrow, you decided.

If you need to.

———

The pace you set is leisure and if kt wasn't for the poor nail bed quickly coming to nothing, it'd seem like you weren't completely losing your head. It's all you can think about. Daisuke out with some girl—who you know for a fact isn't his sister, and who is all over him. He didn't even make a move to push her off! He hates that kind of attention so if he didn't object it, then he was asking for it. He wanted the girl on his side. In fact, for someone who insists the other person sits across from him at a restaurant- he looked quite comfortable with her nearly in his lap.

Maybe you're overthinking this, y/n.

The door clicks open and your ears strain to hear the sound of Daisuke's dress shoes. He's rather indulgent when it comes to dressing wear and the shoes were practically silent, even with the short heel on the back.

"I'm home." He says to no one particular, taking off his trenchcoat and hanging it on the rack beside the door. He stops his path to the bedroom when he sees you frozen in place and staring in the living room. He merely quirks a brow, going to take off his suit and tie.

Suddenly you can't speak and you have tunnel vision. It's unfair how calm he always looks—it's almost smug like he knows everything about you and more. Like he can read your mind and tell you your darkest thoughts and when you'll die because let's be honest, it'll probably be by his hand. Maybe you should back out now before you can say anything. Forget it all because what if you're mistaken? The more you think, the more weight is added onto your shoulders and the more it pushes you down, down further into the hole you want to crawl into. Maybe you should let it because all you want to do now is escape his piercing gaze. His eyes are studying you, taking in your form and the cogs in his brain are turning to find an explanation as to why you are standing there like a psychopath and not welcoming him home like you usually do.

You feel like you're drowning. Is the light getting dimmer? The black around your vision only seems to close in around Daisuke and you try to look anywhere else but his face. There's water in your ears, the popping of them only intensifies until you can feel it pounding into your head with faint static.

Am I going to pass out?

It's not until his hand comes down gently on your shoulder that the closing circle of vision widens out and suddenly all the imaginary water rushes from your ears. You glance down at his rings before back up him, barely catching the end of his words.

"Are you alright?"

He's never been one to beg, so you would have to answer now or he'll leave it be for the rest of the night and probably months after until you're like this again.

"I-can we talk?"

He eyes you suspiciously, narrowing his eyes and keeping his brow raised before nodding, slipping his tie off around his neck, folding it neatly into the palm of his hand. He gestures for you to start the conversation, going to the minibar curving around the kitchen and living area.

When you don't reply he urges you on, "Why so tense? Did something happen, darling?"

It'd seem like he didn't really care from how cold his voice was, but you've grown accustomed to the monotone to know that he truly is concerned for your health. He genuinely wants to know why you're acting so odd. It only makes this so much harder? You're wrong- you have to be. This must be a sick trick your brain has played on you. Or he must be playing some sick trick.

Anxiety settles itself into your gut and it seems like it won't leave anytime soon.

"Daisuke, are...- are you cheating on me?"

His eyebrows finally go lax but he doesn't look up from unbuttoning the cuffs of his white button-down. His fingers fidget at the buttons and instead of the previous loose form, his hand forms a fist.

"I- "

"Why—exactly, are you accusing me of this?"

His gaze sends chills down your spine. He's offended but he doesn't offer a defense. Suddenly your mouth is dry and you lose all your words? How exactly were you going to tell him you stumbled across him and some woman in a restaurant and practically stared them down for fifteen minutes.

You decide the bear it and swallow a lump that has formed in your throat.

"You were with a woman earlier this week snd well, the displays of affection that I saw were not very like you. You've been gone for long hours and even if you blamed it on the new job, Daisuke—you never tell me anything. Is she for a case? Are you using her for information? Go on, tell me about it. Give me a reason not to accuse you."

You regain your confidence but it falters when you meet his indifferent expression. You'd prefer it if he looked angry and the silence that fills the room is deafening and the tension suffocating.

"I can't tell you anything about our cases-"

"I'm your partner! What am I going to do? Rat you out to whoever is breaking the law? Why would I even how those connections, Daisuke?"

Daisuke inhales deeply through his nose like this whole conversation is a burden on him and you can't help but feel like a burden too. Was this relationship not worth the time to talk this out? One hand grips the bar and the other pinches the bridge of his nose.

"You aren't my partner, you're my fiance. My partner and I work together. So, no. I can't tell you about the cases."

You want to rip out your hair. This isn't about his stupid job or his stupid partner. This is about the dumb fucking restaurant and the dumb fucking woman who was hanging off him.

He can't actually be this dense!

"It's not about that! Either you aren't getting the point or you keep changing the subject because it's true!" Your voice rises in pitch, your confidence failing and turning more so into desperation. But you aren't crying yet. There are no tears and your eyes are dry and you absolutely refuse to cry in front of a Kambe.

It's like the beginning of your relationship all over again. A protective barrier around yourself so you don't get hurt and offended by his cold shoulder. Was it so bad to think you've moved on from that feeling? Why is it so difficult for him to just comfort you and push back those fears? Is he that emotionally stunted? You may not know much about his past and his family, but damn— at least you're trying to work through it with him. Can he put out a little more effort?

All he does is pour himself a glass. All he does... is pour himself a glass.

"You know what- forget it. If you're so entitled and so emotionally reserved that you can't even talk to me without a drink first, then I guess we'll talk about it another time—when you don't look like my voice gives you a headache."

Daisuke actually looks taken back by your words and you suddenly feel bad for hitting a sore spot. He may not have shown it often, but he doesn't particularly like not being able to show his true emotions; no matter the reason being.

"Y/N, wait.."

But you're back on adrenaline just as soon as he felt a drop, pushing past him to get to your coat. You just needed to calm down before you said something you'd truly regret. Words tended to stay in his mind much longer than they were intended to.

"I'm staying at my mother's. Don't call me, don't text me, don't come near me until you're ready to tell me what the hell you were doing with her. "

When he doesn't say anything more and you can practically hear the cogs in his head turn, you make your way out there door, making sure to slam it shut.

You slip on the coat angrily, slamming open the door without sparing him a glance but waiting for him to say something. Anything. Were you being too rash? You shake your head and scold yourself, mentally. You can't just turn around now, not after an outburst like that. He has to learn something from this.

Irrational or not, hopefully, his true colors would show.

[hoodedwing]

Scarred Hands

Summary: Jason helps everyone through bad days.

Characters: Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian, Bruce, Alfred

Warnings : Major Character Death mentions, breakdowns, mourning over a character, i think there’s swearing too (but all my fics would have some swear in it though)

Additional Notes: Just wanted Dick to lose his shit with Bruce I guess and Jason just tags a long and becomes good ole’ big bro

Word Count: 1,294 words

***

He can't press the button.

It sits nicely in his hand, fitted perfectly. The number pad worn with age and most likely, had seen better days. The screen cover or what was left of it was peeling at the edges.

Damian had a better phone, way better.

Why did he still hold on to this phone then? What was the attraction, the strange magic that pulled him to this  point where he his finger is still hovered over the button?

Press # for emergencies

The automated voice message said it again, familiarity burned at the edges. Obviously because Jason was the one who gave him the damn phone.

He gave it to his three other brothers too, not exactly give but rather sneak it into their pockets.

How he'd sneaked it, Damian had no clue.

He had a mission tomorrow which needed his full attention and he had spent the whole week staying up by doing research, compiling evidence and constant patrols.

He was tired, his brain felt heavy, darkness sweetly lingering at the edges. The ceiling light suddenly became brighter and he covered his eyes, with his free arm and hissed.

His hand accidentally presses the button and suddenly he hears a gruff voice, gentle in its own

"Demon spawn?"

Damian whimpers and turns on his side, taking the phone under his head and mumbles.

"Stop it."

"Well you called, what's up?"

He hears Damian sighing and trying to sleep so Jason listens silently. He didn't have to say anything. At one point, Damian really thought Jason had declined the call but his name was still on the caller ID.

Jason listened carefully on the phone, Damian's finally even breathing and soft, imperceptible snores. He almost smiles down at the phone.

"Night."

He whispered softly down the phone and cut it.

-

Tim is at Wayne Enterprises (WE)

He absolutely fucking hates it right now because a co-worker has picked out some mysterious 'flaws' and explaining to him why she thought the proposal was questionable.

He is this close to losing it while trying to tune out the woman's voice.

"This time frame is too small, I'm afraid they won't have enough time. Considering that there is a gala this evening-"

Oh fuck, there's a gala to go to tonight?

Tim almost jolts. Just to make sure he isn't hallucinating, he sneakily looks at his phone and sees a message reminding him about tonight’s Gala from Alfred.

Right on time, Alfred. Tim thought.

Tim sighs, places a hand on his head as the woman continues with her mock speech. Luckily for him, her phone rang and she left the room.

Tim slid a deadbolt into the damn door after that.

Peace

He blinks and sees the world in double and rubs his eyes again. He lies quietly on the table for awhile.

His hand was in his coast's pocket, he tried to find his phone but accidentally found the other one.

"What-"

Tim quizzically stares at it, trying to make sense of this mess. The phone was old, he knew. Less advanced equalled to less apps to contact from. These kind are favoured by mercenaries or assassins, it was easier to remove your trail, fast.

That meant only one possibility.

Jason

Tim allows a moment to appreciate Jason's skill. How he had slid it into his pocket, he didn't know and he's impressed.

He picks around the phone, trying to figure out whether it was bugged (because Jason is creative, he managed to get Tim to sleep once just by a lethal and calculated mark by a transquilizer.)

His finger accidentally presses #

"Yeah?"

Oh shit, where's the end call button?

"Tim?"

The gruff voice was coloured with a tinge of audible concern, distant sounds of grappling hooks and gunfire was heard.

"Uh-"

Tim has no idea what to say to him, that he accidentally pressed a button because he was too damn curious and could get Jason killed again because his attention is also diverted to him?

"I..I'm so sorry-"

"Bad day, Timmy?"

Okay, now he's also a mind reader. Lazarus does strange things to you.

"No"

"Liar"

He's a polygraph now? I can't believe this

"Timmy, if it's stress at work or there's dead ends, you better drag your ass to the alleyway outside. I'm there."

Tim decides that it wasn't a bad idea, what's the harm in meeting him?

Probably being stabbed by a batarang and becoming a headline Wayne Enterprises CEO found murdered by a child's toy or Timothy Jackson Drake found impaled by a strange contraption, are there aliens coming? Is this a sign?

Tim politely excuses himself and leaves the office, he exits and turns left to walk another ten minutes. People walking by gave him small smiles obviously because he's a business figure.

He walks another ten minutes and reaches the alleyway, he kicks off his pointed dress shoes and sits, resting his feet at one side.

"Those shoes sure hurt, you better buy new ones soon Timbers."

Tim stood up surprised and almost stumbled back, a pair of firm hands grasp around his waist, too tight for his good.

It leaves Tim breathless and he kneels over slightly from the sudden. Jason lifts him slowly and places him on his lap. Tim fumbles and leans his head against Jason's figure and slowly sinks in.

Into the comfort.

He doesn't know he's fallen asleep until he wakes up in his own bed with warm food beside him.

-

Dick cannot dare.

Dick is supposed to be the glue of the family, he's supposed to be the one that's keeping his shit together.

But he can't.

Bruce is fucking dead, his (adoptive) dad is dead. Gone.

And he can't even get up, he's lying on his bed, absolutely miserable, not even taking calls from Barbara.

In short, he's cut out his entire connection with the world. He's skipped patrol with Tim and Damian for a whole week, he's stopped watching his shows and eating his food.

He's tired.

He doesn't know why, all the energy is sucked out of him. He cannot seem to push himself up.

Not yet.

Until this big lump of human is outside his room and watches him lie in his thoughts. The man seemed familiar.

And he enters.

"Dickie, what the hell?"

Jason puts his hand on Dick, who's eyes are red from a recent bout of crying. He gives Dick a glass of cold water.

"Look at me."

His firm hands grip Dick's leaner muscled shoulders and he reluctantly looks. Jason could see he looks worse up close.

Breakdowns suck, a lot.

"Dick, you gotta move on. I know-"

"You don't know Bruce."

He simply states, eyes staring ahead.  He's telling the truth, or maybe not.

Jason had seen the various shades of Bruce. Caring and the next second, colder than ever. So Dick was so, so wrong about his answer.

"Hating someone doesn't mean I don't know him Dick. He meant a lot to you, I'm not invalidating your grief, I need you to grieve properly. You gotta get back someday, Blüdhaven needs some ass kicking."

Dick smiles with tear-stained cheeks and Jason hugs him suddenly, because he's been in the same position before. He's caught himself in a breakdown before but no one ever held the broken pieces while he cried himself to sleep.

He knew how Dick felt.

"Take your time Dickie, I'll take over for you for now till you're okay."

Dick smiles thinly and sits, watching Jason wear back his boots to leave through the window but not without wiping away his fingerprints.

Jason leaves quietly, hoping Dick wouldn't mind his sudden disappearance. He couldn't afford to stay for long.

There's no rest for the weary.

[sheron-c]

XiSang Fic Recs

I haven’t seen any rec lists floating about, so for the XiSang Week 2020 challenge - Day 7 - Free choice, I wanted to create a rec list of my personal favourites for Nie Huaisang/Lan Xichen ship. There’s actually a lot of stories that are great and I don’t want to duplicate the entire ship tag, so these are just the top 10 that I found super enjoyable: 1.  My Heart is a Saber by peskyjellyfish (~11k)

Summary: Huaisang is on his way to Xinglu Ridge when he gets sidetracked. Rec: This is the fic that gave me everything I wanted to read about them post-canon. Nie Huaisang is angry and damaged, Lan Xichen is hurt and curious, and they find the kind of hope in despair that can only be found together. 2.  come and find me (lying in the bed i made) by ImaginationCake  @demonic-cultivar​ (~22k)

Summary: After Jin Guangyao dies, Nie Huaisang is ready to enjoy his life free from the burden of revenge plots and subterfuge. But his decisions have resulted in a deep guilt that he can't shake, and he struggles to stay afloat with no one left to support him. To top it off, he finds himself tangled up in politics that he really couldn't care less about.What he does care about is Lan Xichen's opinion of him, but Lan Xichen won't even look at him anymore. Nie Huaisang can only hope that his life doesn't get any worse. Rec: The fic that got me into this ship! ♡ I did of course come to AO3 looking for more NHS & LXC content immediately after watching the Untamed. After seeing that ending scene with their conversation on the Temple’s steps I wanted more, but I wasn’t sure it was a romantic ship for me until I read this story. It’s got everything, a kidnapping, a rescue and a bad case of feelings :D 3.  A Skilled Tactician is the Jewel of a Kingdom by Hypatia3 (~50k, WIP) Summary: During the Sunshot Campaign, Nie Huaisang wants to help despite his terrible sword skills. But there are other things he's good at, and nobody can say his mind is weak. But nobody has to know.After all, he wants to go back to his life of general uselessness after the war is over, and Nie Mingjue would never allow it if he saw a single sign of competence from him.But this has consequences that he didn't expect. Rec: One of the absolute best stories in this fandom when it comes to Nie Huaisang’s characterization -- he’s clever and yet so very Huaisang, in such a believable way that *hands* I can’t explain how much satisfaction I get out of reading and rereading this story. Honourable mention:  A Decisive Victory by Hypatia3 (~24k, WIP) Summary: When Jin Guangyao acts against the Nie Sect a little earlier, Nie Huaisang ends up in over his head as acting sect leader. But he has a responsibility and a duty to his sect. His brother is counting on him until he recovers.Or Nie Huaisang loses his temper, starts a war, and impresses a lot of people along the way. Rec: This is not marked XiSang, and is a divergence from the earlier Tactician story (around chapter 7) but it’s such fun to read and Huaisang’s interactions with Lan Xichen are top notch, so I can’t help mentioning it here.

4.  from tomb to tomb by @the-pretzel​  (~16k)

Summary: It's a lot easier to get truth out of someone, even one with a very good reason to lie, when they're drunk. Or, five times Nie Huaisang was drunk and once it was Lan Xichen's turn instead. Rec: Written to capture moments over the years during the course of the show, as Lan Xichen and Nie Huaisang dance around each other, this story is absolutely beautiful and vivid. I can still see the scenes of the story pop up in my head like drawings, of Lan Xichen walking in on semi-hungover Nie Huaisang and the sheer tension between them enough to keep you breathlessly reading.

Honourable mention:  when i'm reborn by @the-pretzel (~1.1k)

Summary:  Nie Huaisang's daemon settles the day he finds out what Jin Guangyao has done. (His Dark Materials fusion) Rec: A very short, very lovely daemon AU, which I’m definitely reading as XiSang :)

5.  What I had to do by @ibijau​ (~20k) Summary:  After three years in seclusion, Lan Xichen gets an unexpected guest he would rather have avoided. Yet when he learns that Nie Huaisang is dying from a curse, he is forced to confront his guilt toward Jin Guangyao's fate and the people his sworn brother hurt. Rec: I’d say this is a fandom classic, so you’ve probably read it already :D But, one of my favourite things about this story is the way it captures Nie Huaisang running away from emotions, and Lan Xichen being selfless when it comes to those he cares about. 6.  gather jewels from graveyards by LuckyDiceKirby (~15k) Summary: Nie Huaisang stole happiness from Lan Xichen. He stole peace. If he could just see him, and see for himself exactly what he’s done, and know—that will be enough. Then he’ll be able to paint again, and his hands won’t shake as he does it, and he’ll remember why he ever in his life bothered to put brush to ink to paper. After all, a man should have to live with his mistakes. There is no other way to learn from them. His brother believed that. Rec: One of the first stories I read for this ship and so well done! This is one where Nie Huaisang feels very guilty, and who doesn’t enjoy reading that? Nie Huaisang comes to the Hanshi to make amends, and doesn’t go away when Lan Xichen won’t see him.

7.  When the world is cold (I will feel a glow) by @marsdiogenes (~3k)

Summary: Xichen is trying very hard to get his crush to notice him, but gallery curator Nie Huaisang has a job to do and would appreciate it if Lan Xichen's beautiful face would stop for a moment so he can focus. Mingjue just wants to have a nice, quiet family dinner and for everyone to respect his efforts.

Rec: I don’t normally go for Modern AUs for this ship, but this was so fun and sexy! Also Nie Mingjue’s knowing reaction is :3 8.  to embrace doubt by fensandmarshes, Fleetling, idendreams, medievalfantasyqueen, space_enjolras, sxnshot (blasphemyincarnate)

Summary: Five times people thought they understood Nie Huaisang + one time someone admitted they didn’t - a collaborative, semi-chronological character study of Nie Huaisang through other characters’ eyes. Rec: Okay, it’s technically not marked shippy, but you tell me that someone who thinks about Nie Huaisang the way Lan Xichen does in this story, in the chapter that’s from his pov can possibly not love him, and I won’t believe it. The lyrical prose is the best description in a paragraph I’ve ever read of Nie Huaisang.

9.  Love of my life, I hate you by Ibijau (~126k) Summary:  With Qishan Wen growing ever more powerful and menacing, QInghe Nie and Gusu Lan decide to cement a firm alliance between their sects through a marriage between their children. Lan Xichen and Nie Huaisang are less than thrilled to learn this, but nobody is asking for their opinion anyway Rec: At first, I wasn’t sold on Lan Xichen being so thoughtless in his treatment of Nie Huaisang as a child and mostly wanted to smack him, but damn if the later events don’t make up for it, make him grow up, and turn the tables around. :D This story is utterly satisfying to read, like one of those novels that give your Id everything you want, eventually. I love slow burn and this is that in spades! So much fun, I’ve re-read parts of it multiple times already.

Honourable mention: Ibijau has so many interesting XiSang stories, like the one where Jin Rusong survives and Nie Huaisang ends up raising him (Second Chances For First Time Villains), and the one where Lan Wangji and Nie Huaisang, both in love with someone else, make a marriage match and solve crimes together ( We can light a match and burn it down), the god!LXC AU, and many others. Check them out! And finally,

10.  Chapter 95: LXC finds out about JGY and tells NHS,  from MDZS short fics by nirejseki ( @robininthelabyrinth) (~1k) Summary:  In that AU where LXC pretends to be LWJ and discovers NMJ's head, what if he went on a quest to put the body of his old friend together and along the way accidentally ran into NHS who's on the same mission. And they realize the other knows! Rec: Nirejseki writes a lot of great Nie brothers content, and this is one short story that can arguably turn into XiSang in the future. The possibilities of this AU make it so exciting, I had to include it on the list even though NHS and LXC only talk and nothing else happens.  ...Okay, that was more than ten fics here, but can you blame me? 😍 I love these two together. And with the XiSang week running we have so much new stuff!

[flying-nightwing]

Act IV: The Finale

Hi people! Finally the last part of this short serie! Honestly I had no expactation for it but I think it might slither into my all time favourite things I’ve written. I won’t lie, I think I’m in love with this last chapter. I feel like it’s the part we really understand both characters and their motivations in relation to each other. Anyway, I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! 

Edit: I realize I have kept this gender neutral! so I change it on the infos on the first part and this one

Parts 1-3 in Masterlist!

Pairing: Tim Drake x gender neutral reader

Word count: 3456

Warnings: language, mention of violence (non-graphic)

“... And this is why I have taken the decision to repeal the vigilante act. All measures taken by the city and GCPD to collaborate with vigilantes on the matters listed are to be repelled at this instant. We will no longer tolerate criminals telling us how to protect our city and all arrest mandates out for vigilantes are to be reactivated--”

Tim passed a hand in his face after Bruce turned off the TV. There was some serious tensions going on in the batcave, especially after this gruesome live tape of the mayor, visibly held hostage in some kind of basement, delivered the new order to cancel all the work they had achieved to at least stop the cops from trying to hunt them down instead of focusing on actual crime. 

The first thing he had done once he came back to the cave was to research you in any database he could hack into. He started in the state registry, knowing you had told him you had been an orphan. He had no idea what was a lie and what wasn’t in what you had told him, but that was apparently true. The picture attached was a younger version of you, that was clear, but any update on your whereabouts stopped at age 11. Then, he tried to look for a driver’s license, passeport, any ID documents you could have. He also hit a dead end with that too, so he looked into less savory types of repertories. 

He finally found you in the mercenary databases, with a clear, recent picture and your… Impressive record. As he scrolled down your list of confirmed hits, he felt his stomach sink further and further. Marco Rizzo, the philanthropist, the kidnapped mayor, and it went on and on. What truly put him on the floor, however, was to see your credentials. You were Falcone’s main gun and you had trained under various mentors including Slade Wilson, out of all people.

You were the real deal and he had let himself fall for you, hard.

He felt stupid now. Did you even know who he was at night? Had you gone to him to throw him off your scent? Even after discovering all of this about you, a part of him still hoped you had no clue. It would hurt less to know it was a coincidence you bumped into each other rather than a calculated move from you. 

“So… Your date uh?”

Tim cringed when Bruce spoke up. It was even worse to hear it out loud. 

“I don’t wanna hear it” He mumbled, keeping his eyes dead set on the wall. He knew he had acted irresponsibly, he knew he should have seen the signs sooner, he knew he should have remained alert and not let himself be charmed by you, or let himself be sidetracked from his mission. It was a rookie mistake. 

“Talk about sleeping with the enemy” Damian snorted from behind them. Tim turned around, glaring at him. He was sitting in a computer chair, casually eating noodles with chopsticks and watching the exchange like it was a movie. Of course, the demon had spied on the conversation.

“Damian!”

“What?” He looked at Bruce, shrugging nonchalantly.

Bruce sighed, shaking his head. He returned his attention to Tim again. “What do you want to do now?”

Tim didn’t reply straight away. He was conflicted, angry, sad, disappointed; he had rarely felt such a cocktail of emotions like that. On one hand, he wanted to wallow in self pity. It seemed like the one thing left to do, as life finally sent someone he could see himself get with but made them the exact opposite of what he stood for. But he couldn’t, he had to put a stop to this madness. He had to confront you. 

“We’ll need to set a trap” He finally spoke, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “A contract that can’t be refused, draw them out. I’ll take care of it, it’ll be better that way”

“Are you sure you’ll be up to it?”

“Yes” Tim snapped, and Bruce took a careful step back. “I won’t be fooled twice. I can do it”

“Alright, just making sure” Bruce wasn’t convinced, but he still trusted his son. He knew he'd do the right thing if push came to shove. “What did you have in mind?”

Tim took a deep breath. “50 millions for a bullet in Bruce Wayne’s head”

---

It was too good to be true, and your suspicions of foul play were confirmed when your eyes spotted the red and black sticking out of the grim portrait of Gotham’s roof tops.

You knew something was up when you were offered a 50 millions solo contract. You usually went out for 15 millions for high profile targets, but curiosity got the best of you. The only thought of potentially pocketing that much money was enough of a motivation for you to at least find out what was up. But now, it was clear it was a set up as Red Robin himself was waiting for you. It was too bad for the money, but the prospect of facing a real Gotham vigilante for the first time was exciting. 

“I’ve beaten you twice already” You smirked. “You called me for a third?”

A scowl set on his masked face. “Trust me, there won’t be a third” He spoke up in a gravelling voice. “Either you come with me here and now, or we do this the hard way”

“Oh, now you’ve got me interested” You teased as you circled him. “Do tell me more about this hard way of yours”

He deployed his staff. Your eyebrows raised at his challenge. “You’re arrogant” He stated. He wasn’t wrong. “It’s gonna be your downfall”

“... Or not” You shrugged, not stopping your assessment of him. “Still waiting on the monologue detailing your plan to stop me, by the way”

“There isn’t one”

He lunged. He did it so quickly and smoothly you almost didn’t see him move. Your reflexes allowed you to roll out of the way just in time, and the way the staff collided with the cement told you it wouldn’t have been a long fight if that had hit its intended target: you. You looked at him and you regained your footing, reevaluating the situation. You were skilled, but you doubted it would be enough to go toes to toes with Red Robin, now that you had had a glimpse of what he could actually do.

You raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Catch me if you can”

Before he could process your world, you turned around and jumped off the building, landing on the roof a dozens of feet lower. You didn’t waste time taking off, knowing he would be right behind you. You ran across the rooftop and leaped off the ledge and above the alley to grab onto the fire exit on the next building over. You hurried to climb it, ending up on yet another rooftop. You ran alongside the pool and jumped over the tables, kicking them back to try and slow down Red Robin, who was little by little gaining on you. Fuck, he’s fast, you thought. You weren’t even tempting to look back, but you knew with the sound of his footsteps alone. 

You hadn’t planned on him being able to follow you that easily, not even cursing behind you as you took another jump over a considerable gap between buildings. You were fast, faster than most. Making exits had always been your strong suit, whether it was on foot, by car or otherwise. However, the only times you had faced him were when you had a rocket launcher as a deterrent or when you were driving an actual race car. Now that the field was levelled, you didn’t have the advantage anymore. You knew you wouldn’t be able to outrun him if you kept going on that way, so you had to change your strategy.

You took a sharp turn to the left and grabbed a clothesline, pulling out a knife from your belt and severing in behind your grip. You took a good running start and let yourself fall on the building on the other side of the street, pausing to glance at Red Robin standing where you had just been seconds ago. He was trying to find another way to cross, but there was none and even he couldn’t make that jump. You gave him a wave and a wink before taking off again. However, on the corner of your eyes, you still could see him tracking you relentlessly, not letting you get away so easily. 

You jumped over an alley, and instead of landing on the next roof, you aimed for the first balcony from the top. With your shoulder first and your head tucked in, you went straight through the sliding door window and rolled on the landing to smooth your fall. You glanced beside you at the terrified man in his underwear who was cowering on the couch and looked behind you, shrugging.

“Sorry for the mess” You didn’t wait until he replied to walk out the apartment. You jogged down the stairs, knowing Red Robin would have lost your trace now. Or so you thought.

You halted your steps when you noticed him waiting at the bottom of the staircase and leaning on the rail with a nonchalant expression, like it had been easy to predict you would come out that way. He returned the little sarcastic wave you had given him minutes earlier, making your face fall. You turned around and climbed back the steps back to the first floor, barging in and running across the hallway until you reached the window at the end. You took the time to open this one, seeing as he had not yet reached the floor. You slipped through it and climbed down the wall to land into the back alley. You were about to head for the streets when an already too familiar red and black figure blocked your way.

You took off in the opposite direction, well, until you came face to face with a brick wall. There was nothing to climb onto, no fire exit to use, no way to get away. You closed your eyes and cursed under your breath as footsteps reached you. He wasn’t in a hurry, his pace was tauntingly slow and confident he had you trapped. You recomposed yourself before turning around to face him.

“You forced me to make a mistake” You stated with a sigh. “Impressive”

“Told you” He said, taking a step toward you. “Arrogance did end up being your downfall”

“I don’t suppose we could have a rematch, uh?” You tried, smiling coyly. “That staff didn’t seem such a bad idea in hindsight”

“If you thought you could win then, you wouldn’t have dragged me into this pointless chase” He scoffed, and your eyebrows raised. He was right, but damn. “Unless you want a beating at that too”

“Ouch” You chuckled. “That really hurts my pride”

“Good” He smirked. “Now that you know you won’t get away from this one, just do the logical thing and surrender. There’s nowhere to go”

You held eye contact for a moment before slowly raising your hands. “Alright” You complied with a nod. “You earned that one”

He took careful steps toward you, alert to whatever quick move you would do. But you could recognize when you were beaten, so you didn’t plan any surprise move. Getting caught by a vigilante was an eventuality, even you knew you wouldn’t escape them forever. You just didn’t think it would have been this soon. He grabbed your wrists, and once he was sure he had you solidly enough, he twisted your arm behind you and pushed you rather roughly into the brick wall.

“Woah there champion” You coughed out in surprise. “I feel that spark between us, I really do, and I admit I am partially to blame for it, but I’m kinda seeing someone? And I’m really into him so if you could just. Stop manhandling me that way, that’d be great”

You felt him take a considerable step backward, and his grip on your arm dropped. You frowned, carefully turning around to face him. You didn’t understand why he had let you go, and his blush combined with his bewildered expression only made you more confused.

“Okay, what is going on, now?” You asked, not taking your eyes off him. It was like he was a completely different person now, and you couldn’t point out exactly why it was suddenly so familiar. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, jeez”

“I’m not” He defended too quickly, his voice wavering. Your eyes squinted even more as you took one step forward. He didn’t move, it was like he was frozen in place. “It doesn’t matter. It’s over for you”

“Uh” You took another step, and he squared up, trying to cover the fact he had totally lost his edge over you. You could have made a run for it, you knew it would have been ridiculously easy at that moment to evade him, but something held you back. You scrutinized him, your head tilting to the side. He gulped, and suddenly it all pieced together. That reaction to your flirting, you knew it all too well. Your eyes widened, before you gave him a sympathetic smile. “You know, while this mask does suit you, I prefer to see your eyes, handsome”

His muscles tensed for a second or two, but his shoulder sagged soon after. He sighed and rubbed his forehead. “How long have you known?”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean, how long?” You asked. “Thirty five seconds ago”

“You didn’t know before?”

“Uh, no” You replied. “What does it matter?”

“You… You didn’t go on a date with me to distract me from your trail?”

“No, I went on a date with you because I like you?” You raised an eyebrow. “I would have been way more careful with my lies if I had known, fuck I was so obvious, no wonder you figured it out. Besides, I just told you I’m really into you--”

You were surprised by the sudden movement of his arm that sneaked behind your neck and brought you flush against his lips. Okay then. You returned the kiss without hesitation holding on to his shoulders under the sheer force he was applying against you. It was a lot different from the shy boy you had met at the racetrack, but then again, he was Red Robin right now, more so than Tim Drake. You could have never connected the two if it hadn’t been from your flirting from up close. Before you knew, he tore himself from you and jumped back like you were actual fire, cursing under his breath. You blinked slowly at his sudden absence from your immediate vicinity, then rolled your eyes. Dramatic much?

“What is it now?”

“You’re still a criminal” Now he refused to meet your eyes. 

“Are you-- Is this because of what happened in the alley the other day?” You sighed, throwing your hands up before letting them fall back and slap on the side of your thighs. “I’m sorry, okay? I wouldn’t have ran you into the garbage pile if I had known it was you. And I wouldn’t have threatened you with a rocket launcher either-- Shit okay I see your point, I’m really sorry about that too”

“No!” He yelled. “I mean, yeah, kind of. But you kill people for a living, I can’t--”

“What does it change?” You asked. “You liked me before you found out. You were about to hand me to the police, I still like you! In fact, if you could ram me into the wall once again like you just did, I wouldn’t--”

“Please stop talking”

You grinned. “Does it turn you on?”

“Y-No” He replied, correcting himself last second. You raised a subjective eyebrow. “Stop that”

“Stop what?” You asked innocently. “I’m just saying it’s on the table. If I had known it was you when you did it, I would have enjoyed it so you’re welcome to do it again”

“Do you ever stop flirting?” He deadpanned. He crossed his arms against his chest, but it definitely didn’t have the intended effect. Instead, you just checked him out even more, since his muscles were very well defined in that suit. You liked it.

“With you? Not a chance, handsome”

And here came the blush again. He looked away and gulped, ignoring your self satisfied smile. You could do that all day and never get bored of it. Still, you regained a somewhat serious expression for the conversation that was inevitably coming.

“So now what?” You spoke up. “You give me to the cops? We pretend nothing happened between us? Because I’ll be honest with you, I don’t want that. I meant it when I said I liked you”

“My job is to stop crime, and the people who commit it” He began with a sigh. “I just can’t ignore the fact that you are one of the bad guy”

“That’s valid” You nodded slowly. “But this is just a job. I don’t do it for the power trip of taking people out, I do it because I’m good at it, and because I like the money that comes with it. Although, I’ll admit I do enjoy making dramatic exits from time to time--all the time”

Tim snorted. Of course you liked your exit, that had been obvious from the start. But even if he did not agree with your job, or with the lack of morals that came with it, he had to recognize the difference between you and the typical Gotham criminal. From what he had found out so far about you, you never caused casualties in any of your contracts. You always kept the mess to a minimum. You were a far cry from the Joker or Poison Ivy, for that matter.

Even if you couldn’t see his eyes clearly, you could just see the gears turning in his head. Would it be so bad if he let you go? What if he kept seeing you? He could agree with you on one thing: behind his reluctance because of your job, he really didn’t want to pretend nothing happened. He liked you a lot, and it absolutely frustrated him that the one god sent person he instantly clicked with was on the other side of his moral spectrum. 

“Tell me” You said softly, bringing back his attention to you. “If you had never found out about my job, would you have asked me on a second date?”

“Yes” He didn’t hesitate in his answer. It was like you could read his mind, reminding him of how well you fit together. He wanted both to scream and to kiss you again. 

You took a deep breath, letting him think some more. You could very much suspect the news of your activities was harder on him than his were on you, so you understood the need to let him a little space while he figured it all out. You had half expected him to go ahead with his initial plan though, so you prepared yourself mentally for him eventually binding your wrists and dragging you to the nearest precinct. 

That’s probably why you were surprised when he took a step aside, no longer blocking you from leaving. You didn’t move, only stared at him.

“I won’t give you a free pass if I catch you doing shady stuff” He sighed, gesturing to the exit of the alley. “ But for this time, I guess I’ll see you next time you do something stupid”

“Not before?” You raised an eyebrow. The corner of his lips slightly lifted.

“Maybe before”

“Is that a yes on the second date?” You asked, hopeful. “7:30 next Friday at that lobster place you mentioned?”

“Will you be working that night?”

“I won’t!” You hurried to confirm. “I swear I won’t”

He let out a long sigh like he was reconsidering his entire life. “What the hell, sure”

“Great!” You grinned wide, stealing a quick kiss on his lips. 

“Go, now” He ordered, gaining back his more authoritative vigilante voice. Oof, that was hot, you thought, but you kept it to yourself for once. “Before I change my mind”

“See you on Friday, handsome!”

He watched you run out of the alley, finding himself suddenly excited at the prospect of seeing you again, whether it would be as Red Robin or as himself on a date with you.

[sprnklersplashes]

power of three

canon divergence where cady is not a plastic, and goes to janis’ art show instead (ao3)

It’s a strange feeling, all these eyes on her. 

The room is packed, people swirling around in all directions, conversations fading in and out of earshot. There’s a glass in her hand (lemonade, of course) and people she vaguely recognises coming up to shake her free one, congratulating her on getting this far. She blushes slightly, thanks them and takes a sip of her drink to keep herself from passing out. Rinse and repeat, over and over, for what feels like an hour, but when Damian grabs her by the elbow and pulls her out, it turns out it had been five minutes.

It’s not bad, all this attention, not when it’s praise rather than damnation. When people come up to her with admiration in their eyes, rather than scorn. She’s just not very used to it.

“Thank you,” she breathes into Damian’s ear. He chuckles and loops his arm so that her hand rests on it, like they’re a married couple at some gala far more pretentious than this. She chuckles, and what’s more she can lean on him now. Keeping herself upright is suddenly far less of a challenge.

“Well, it looked like you were either going to explode if one more person came up to you,” he explains as they weave in and out of the crowd. “And funny as that would be, I think you’d need to be in tact when they give you your prize.”

“Oh shush you,” she replies, hoping her feigned nonchalance covers the prickling insecurity in her gut. Maybe it would, if it was someone other than Damian. “Besides, I don’t need to win. Getting to the finals is more than enough for me.” The words feel false on her tongue, and even more so when Damian raises his eyebrow, a silent signal meaning you’re talking bullshit and you know it. She stands her ground for a total of three seconds before she sighs and looks into her half-finished glass. “I don’t want to get my hopes up, is all.”

“Well too bad,” Damian replies. “Because my hopes are all riled up.” He nudges her with his shoulder, and she manages a smile then. “I mean it. They’d be crazy not to pick you. If they do, I’m filing a lawsuit.”

“You do that.” She turns and takes in her surroundings, mainly the other paintings on the walls, and the confidence Damian instilled in her dips a little. When her art teacher told her to fill out the application, she did so mainly to please her. She’s never really been interested in putting her art up to be judged. For her, that would be like ripping a page out of her diary and publishing it in the school newsletter. But she did it anyway, not expecting to get past the application stage. But she did, evidently, and then she got past the second round and the third, each time feeling like there must have been some mistake. Because now she’s looking at the other works on the walls, mostly made by real artists who go to real art schools, and she’s not sure how she’s meant to compare here.  

“You seen Cady yet?” she asks, ripping her gaze away from the other paintings. Damian shakes his head and checks his watch before the two of them scan the room, searching for caramel coloured curls or a funky-coloured flannel. “She has the right address, right?”

“Yeah,” he replies. Janis nods and takes a deep breath, forcing herself to remain calm. There could be a hundred reasons as to why Cady hasn’t showed up yet, right? After all, it’s a new city and she still doesn’t know it very well, or maybe she’s running late, maybe her tutoring Aaron went on longer than expected. Maybe she couldn’t get out of the thing with her parents after all. She did text ‘sorry, running late, be there as soon as I can’ about ten minutes ago, so that means she’s coming, right?

“Hey,” Damian’s voice whispers in her ear, his hand on her back as if she’s about to fall. “Don’t worry about it. She’ll be here. And if she isn’t, I’ll shove her into a locker myself, K?”

She nods, even though it’s shakier than it ought to be, and turns, her mouth open to reassure both him and herself, but something catches her eye. Something, or rather someone, coming through the door, with all the grace and care of a small hurricane. Someone smaller than her with wide eyes and caramel coloured curls and… a blue flannel.

She can breathe again.

“Caddy!” She waves her over, mindful of the drink in her hand and Damian beside her, and her friend hurries over to her, forgoing a handshake in favour of wrapping her in a brief but tight hug. “You made it.”

“I did,” they sigh. “Sorry, I’m late, I grossly misjudged how far away this place was and it was my first time taking the bus on my own.”

“It’s okay,” she replies. “I mean really, it’s fine.”

“Public transportation is a nightmare in this city,” Damian chimes in. “Glad you made it, little slice.” Cady squeals and hugs him too, stretching up on their toes and wrapping their arms around his shoulders. Damian grins, his joy so bright it’s hard to believe he was plotting their hypothetical revenge on Cady not seconds earlier.

She knows he’d have never gone through with it.

“Let’s go get you a drink,” Damian says. “Unfortunately, we can’t go up to the bar unless you managed to sneak in a fake ID.”

“I didn’t, sorry,” Cady laughs.

“Don’t worry about it,” Janis says as she hands her a lemonade. “Alcohol is far overrated anyway. We wanted to wait for you before we got food too.”

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that.”

“We know, we’re just awesome people,” Janis says as she and Damian lead Cady to the food table. It’s all little snacks mainly-tiny hot dogs, mini quiches, little finger sandwiches, and Cady is amazed by them. 

“They’re so cute!” they exclaim as they load another sandwich onto their already-sagging paper plate. “It’s like little doll food!” Janis and Damian’s eyes simultaneously grow wider as they watch; this tiny girl who can apparently wolf down more than they can combined. Cady just smiles, brighter than any lamp in the room, and Janis feels compelled to smile back.

Cady’s funny like that. 

“Okay, come on, kiddos,” Damian says, grabbing Cady by the hand and nodding for Janis to follow. The twinkle in his eye tells her everything she needs to know about what he plans and her cheeks grow warmer as she follows them. “We want to get a good seat for this.”

She ducks her head, her hair falling infront of her face like a curtain, but behind is one of the warmest smiles she’s ever known.

“I feel kind of underdressed,” Cady remarks, their eyes scanning the crowds. They pull on their shirt, the gesture seemingly subconscious. “I didn’t know how fancy this was going to be. Maybe I should have dressed up a little.”

“Oh you’re fine.” Janis waves her hand dismissively. “It’s not that fancy.” She feels a little hypocritical here, after all, she was the one who went out and bought herself a new jacket especially for this event, but she stands by what she said. Cady looks fine. “You clearly have your formal flannel on anyway.”

Cady bursts out laughing at that, earning a confused look from some passers-by. That only makes the two of them laugh harder, their snickers hidden behind their hands. It stings for a moment, because that gesture is so closely associated with Regina in Janis’ mind, but it’s brushed aside as Cady links their arms together. Janis breathes out. Regina isn’t even here, and she has no place in her friendships. Not anymore.

“Thanks so much for inviting me, Janis,” Cady says. 

“Hey, no problem, Caddy,” she says. “You’re one of us now. Which means you get dragged to my art shows and Damian’s drama club performances.” Cady giggles at that. “And then to make it fair, you get to drag us to your Mathlete contests and everyone wins.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Cady says. 

Something blossoms in Janis’ chest, something new and exciting. For so long it had just been her and Damian and she was fine with it. More than fine. But when she said what she said to Cady, you’re one of us now… she was saying that there was an us to be a part of. That they aren’t loners anymore. That… that she isn’t. That she can let people in now. 

She wonders how that little 12 year old girl would react if she told her.

“Are you okay?” Cady asks. Janis blinks, her breath coming out in a quick gasp, and she takes a drink to cool her warm cheeks. Cady stands beside her, not overly concerned, but not oblivious either. They squeeze Janis’ hand, their eyes gentle and kind, and Janis tries not to get emotional. Again.

“Fine,” she tells them. “Just nervous.” It’s not entirely a lie. Her eyes meet Damian’s over Cady’s head and he sees right through her, because of course he does. She doesn’t mind though, not one little bit. Because she knows he’s thinking the same thing.

Strange, she thinks, how quickly this little jungle freak infiltrated their tight-knit friendship. She smiles and lets Cady rest their head on her shoulder. Strange, and she loves it.

                                                                          ******

It’s way past dark when Damian’s scooter pulls up outside Janis’ house. Her hair is tangled from the ride home, her back aching a little after having spent the better part of 30 minutes leaning over Damian, but she’s far too happy to care. In fact, it’s one of those rare instances where she can’t find it in herself to care about anything; school, her friends, her future, or the weather. All that matters is her and Damian, and the jokes they’re sharing, and the painting sitting in the jazzy’s front basket. That’s her world right now, and it’s all she needs.

She’s still laughing as she jumps off the jazzy, the cheeks-hurt-can’t-breathe kind of laughter, and Damian follows, making sure to double check all the breaks before he hops off. She goes to lift her painting but he holds one hand in front of her face and grabs it with the other, tucking it beneath his arm instead. She rolls her eyes, but it’s for show. There’s a proud smile on his face, the twinkle in his eyes evident even in the dark, and he stops to grab her hand before they head inside.

“Have I told you how proud I am yet?” he asks her.

“Only a hundred times,” is her reply, and she gives his hand a grateful squeeze.

“Can I say I told you so yet?”

“Only if I can kick you in the shins afterwards,” she says firmly, only for the two to burst out laughing as she turns the key in the lock.

The hallway is far warmer than outside and Janis can’t not sigh in relief when she enters. She takes off her jacket and hangs it up and Damian does the same. Her mom told him back when they were twelve to “make himself at home” and he’s never stopped doing so. They head into the kitchen, following the sound of low chatter and the muted lights. It doesn’t surprise her that her parents beat them home; even if she hadn’t already seen the car parked in the drive, she knows that car beats jazzy every single time.

What does surprise her, however, is the sight of Cady sitting at the kitchen table, sipping tea from her Eyeore mug, and making polite chithcat with her parents. 

They had offered Cady a ride on the jazzy, Janis even demonstrating how they would both fit on safely, but Cady had politely declined, insisting on riding their bike instead. Janis had relented, seeing there was no convincing them re: the scooter, and wrote down detailed instructions on how to get to her place and also telling them to call if they got lost. Even with those precautions, Janis wasn’t convinced Cady would make it, and was expecting her phone to vibrate on the way home.

But no. Here’s Cady. Sitting at her table like they’ve done it before. Like it isn’t the first time.

Their eyes find Janis’ as she walks in, and their face breaks out into a relieved smile. Janis hides a smile of her own, a small tug of sympathy in her chest. Cady is sweet, and she loves her parents, but she’s also sure there’s only so many conversation topics one can have.

“You’re back!” her dad announces, half-turning in his seat. “How was the scooter?”

“It was fun,” she says. “We got yelled at by these college kids.”

“Oh don’t tell me that,” her mom sighs. “Really, Damian, I’m surprised your mom let you ride that thing at night.”

“She said as long as I wear a helmet, everything’s fine.”

“I see. And did you?” her mom asks. Damian stops then, his mouth pressed into a thin line, and that’s enough of an answer. Her mom rolls her eyes, but it’s a fond gesture, and she chuckles warmly under her breath.

“At least Cady wore a helmet,” she says, gesturing across the table. “Maybe they’ll be a good influence on you.”

“Or we’ll corrupt them and turn them dark,” Janis jokes, winking over at them. Cady smiles softly, their cheeks turning pink. “One way to find out.” She heads over and pulls up a chair beside Cady, their elbows bumping on the table. “Sorry we left you hanging here on your own.”

“It’s fine,” they reply. “Got talking with your parents.”

“And I think that’s our cue to leave now,” her mom says. Her dad nods and finishes up his coffee before rising from the table, stretching his arms over his head. “You kids have fun, okay?”

“But not too much fun, I still want this kitchen intact when I get back.”

“No promises, Dad,” Janis grins. Her dad raises a playful eyebrow at her, meanwhile her mom counts on her fingers, ticking off her mental checklist. 

“Okay, so the pizza menu’s in the drawer, money’s on the counter, we’ve got the living room set up and we’re just upstairs if you need anything,” her mom says. 

“Thanks Mom.”

“Thanks Laura,” Damian adds, at the same time Cady says “Thanks Mrs Heron.” They shift slightly, only noticeable to those sitting next to them, and Janis threads her fingers through Cady’s, hopefully letting her know she’s just as welcome here as Damian is. Cady smiles softly in return and runs her thumb over Janis’ knuckles. 

“Alright, have a good night kids,” her dad says. “We’re off to watch boring nature documentaries on Netflix like adults.”

“Maybe you are,” her mom adds, tapping his chest. “I’m finishing my mystery novel.” Janis chuckles, warmth fluttering in her chest. Her parents might be, well, parents, but damn she loves them.

Even more so when her dad pokes his head around the door and says “Janis… I’m so proud of you.” Sure, her cheeks burn in front of her friends, but a grin spreads across her face at the same time. Her parents are the best, and she’ll fight anyone on that. 

Not twenty minutes later they’re sitting in the living room, all clad in their pyjamas, the room lit solely by lamps. Janis made sure to bring down as many extra blankets and pillows as she could, ensuring there could be no spot that wasn’t cosy. Three pizza boxes sit in the middle of the floor, each one a different level of demolished. Damian ordered Hawaiian, partially because he knew it would drive Janis crazy, and poor Cady got pulled into the ongoing ‘pineapple on pizza’ debate, something they had apparently missed out on while chasing lions in Kenya. Lucky they have them, then.

“It’s a fruit, and fruits do not belong on a pizza,” Janis says, standing on her couch for the full effect. “I will have pineapple on a lot of things. In a salad. In a cake. In my conditioner so that I always smell like a tropical paradise. But pizza is not one of those things.Thank you for coming to my TED talk.”

“Counter point,” Damian replies. “Tomato is a fruit, and there is tomato sauce on every pizza in existence.”

“Counter-counter point, tomato is an acceptable fruit for pizza, pineapple isn’t.”

“Coutner-counter-counter point, who are you to decide which fruits are acceptable?”

“Counter-counter-counter-counter point, I’m cute,” she says. 

“Cannot argue with that,” Damian replies, leaning back on the couch. “Caddy, be our tiebreaker please?” Janis pouts, suspecting he’s only relenting so he can eat more pizza instead, but it’s a victory and so she takes it.

“I’m amazed neither one of you have gone out for debate team,” Cady says, who had been watching the argument with their head bopping back and forth. They sit with one of the blankets wrapped around them, their chin resting on their knees. They scrunch their face up slightly, their gaze shifting from Janis to Damian and back again, and a mischievous grin forms on their lips. “But… I am ultimately sold on Janis’ point of view, sorry Damian.”

“I am flabbergasted,” Damian sighs, throwing himself back on the couch. He throws his hand against his forehead, the perfect picture of the fainting Victorian maiden. Suitably dramatic, of course. “Horrified. Betrayed. Ultimately humiliated. My honour has been squandered.”

“You never had honour to begin with,” Janis quips as she jumps off the couch. She settles herself beside Cady, pleasantly surprised when they open up the blanket and drape it around her shoulders. She scoots a little closer until their knees touch, and her smile widens.

“Okay losers, what movie are we making Caddy watch?” Damian asks. “I’ve got Sound of Music, Chicago, Cabaret and if we’re not feeling like a musical tonight, we have Heathers, The Bee Movie, Night at the Museum and Legally Blonde.” He takes out each movie and displays it on the floor, sitting in front of Cady like jewellery in a cabinet, and their eyes grow slowly wider.

“Is the Bee Movie just a movie about bees?” they ask, their nose scrunched up.

“Yes and it’s a masterpiece,” Janis replies. “It explores the depths and complexities of human sexuality, the insidious reality of our capitalist society and what it means to truly love someone.”

Cady nods slowly but skeptically, and their hand passes over the DVD. Janis makes a mental note to work on her Bee Movie pitch. Damian shrugs sympathetically, a silent well, you tried in his eyes.

“What about this one?” Cady asks, holding up Heathers.

“Hell yeah,” is her answer. It’s a personal favourite of Janis’, and yes a little bit of a fantasy, not that she’d ever go as far as Veronica did. She taps Cady’s shoulder and pulls herself up.  “I’ll go get the popcorn ready.”

“Why don’t I give you a hand?” Cady asks, already jumping to their feet. Janis jumps a little, taken aback by her new friend’s enthusiasm.

“Um… okay, sure,” she says. “Damian, can you set up the movie?” 

“On it, kids,” he replies. “Go make me a shitton of popcorn.” Janis leads Cady out of the living room, half holding their hand, and into the kitchen. If Cady feels the same awkwardness she does they do a good job of hiding it, caramel curls bouncing around their shoulders as they almost skip after Janis. 

“Hey can you grab some bowls for me?” she asks as she grabs popcorn out of the cupboards. “There’s some really big ones in the back of this cupboard here.” Cady nods and whisks around her kitchen, quick as the little lions they love so dearly, and emerges with three brightly coloured plastic bowls. Janis grins, especially at the size of them. “Amazing.”

“You know, back in Kenya, my mom would make popcorn for us sometimes, too,” Cady tells her.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. But instead of watching movies at night we’d sit outside and watch the animals roaming around.” Janis turns and catches the wistful look in her new friend’s eye. She almost sees it in her own mind, the kitchen floor transforming into a quiet, moonlit jungle. “But we’d be wrapped up in our blankets and sitting in our chairs and we knew we’d be safe. They weren’t pets but were our animals. And it was different every time.”

They duck their head then, hair falling in front of their face as a quiet, shaky breath escapes them. Janis rests her hand on their shoulder, drawn closer to the little jungle kid. 

“You must miss it there,” she whispers. “Africa, I mean.”

“A bit,” Cady confesses. “Sometimes.” They don’t cry, but their voice is thin and strained, and it’s not unfamiliar to Janis. “But I wanted to come here for years. And I’m glad I did. So...” Their voice trails off and Janis can only wince in sympathy as she runs her hand in circles around Cady’s shoulder. They pause, taking the moment together, and Cady leans closer to her until their head rests on her shoulder. A smile graces their face, small but so bright. “Thanks.”

“No problemo,” she replies. Just in time, the microwave goes off and the two open the door to steaming warm popcorn. They shake it out amongst the three bowls, both secretly adding stragglers to their own even if they’ll share with Damian later. Cady balances two in their hands while Janis tidies up after them and switches off the light. They step into the dimly lit hall and are just about to head to the living room when Janis stops suddenly, a new sense of strength creeping in. The last time she felt like this was when she was twelve, and was looking over at Damian on a similar night. Like something is locking in her heart, and she’s deciding, yep, we’re definitely keeping her. 

“Hey, Caddy?” she asks in a low voice. Cady turns, her eyes wide, and Janis feels herself soften. “I’m really glad you came tonight too.”

Cady grins, a kind of breathless gratitude on their face and goes to hug Janis, only to laugh and remember the popcorn at the last minute.

Janis hugs them on the couch to make up for it. 

Damian doesn’t mind, especially not when Maxie decides he wants to join the party too and cuddles up with Damian on the chair. Janis mumbles something about a “traitor dog” before slipping right back into the movie, quoting it word for word like it’s a second language. Cady raises their eyebrows, seemingly impressed by her ability, and Janis simply shrugs.

“It’s a gift,” she tells them. “Wait and see kiddo, soon we’ll have you quoting this movie off by heart.”

“How very,” Cady replies, and the three of them burst into late night giggles.

They put on Legally Blonde next, another classic Cady hasn’t seen. Cady even talks about how excited they are for it, but before Warner has even broken up with Elle, Janis looks down to find Cady curled up in a ball next to her, fast asleep. Janis  pulls the blanket over her, a rush of protectiveness flowing through her as she does so. It makes sense, she supposes. Cady is one of them now after all. They protect their own.

“Hey,” Damian’s voice comes as a loud whisper from across the room. He’s almost asleep himself, his hand slowly running through Maxie’s fur. He lazily points over at Cady, a crooked smile on his face. “You were right.”

Janis blinks in tired confusion until she realises what he’s referring to; that first day in French class, where Cady had so desperately tried to think of their ‘French name’. When Janis had leaned back in her chair and dropped a note on Damian’s desk. 

“We’re adopting them. That’s our new child” it had read and they went into that bathroom that day and never looked back.

“Yeah.” She turns to say something else, but finds Damian asleep too, Maxie curled up in his lap. Unlike Cady, he had no problem pulling the blanket over himself. She chuckles softly, the only sound in the otherwise quiet room. It’s his house too after all.

She gets up slowly, careful not to disturb Cady, and turns the movie off. They can watch it tomorrow morning after all. She settles down on the couch, right beside Cady again, and pretends that her eyes aren’t blurry. 

As she looks around the room, she finds her prize winning painting propped against the wall, and her cheeks flush at the sight. It had been a vague idea in her mind for a while, but when her teacher had told her to “draw from the heart”, it was the first contender. It’s silly and it’s cliche and it’s sappy; all the things she pretends she isn’t. But it’s also the most authentic piece she’s ever created, and that’s why she loves it so much. It’s all the bits of herself she used to be scared of, sitting on a canvas for all to see. The parts that are open and loving and unafraid. Creating it may have been scary, but the rewards go beyond the prize she won.

It occurs to her, in her fuzzy, half-asleep mind, that maybe that’s the reason it won. Maybe she should try it again sometime.

[chibinekochan]

An Angel comes to Hell

The events that happened just before Angel in hell. 

This is just focused on Lucifer and his brother's reaction to the Angel reader coming to hell. 

I don't want to spoil the reveal for you, so please give the story a read first. 

part 1 | part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | | Part 5  | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

   ~2.6k words

Taglist:

@gothjuulpod  ; @purgatoryhall ; @sibit360  ; @a-personnamed-ace

*tell me if you want to be added or removed from this list for any future obey me angel au content*

___________________________________________

   A late night in the Devildom. 

Lucifer's phone rings. 

Slightly annoyed by the disturbance he looks at the screen. 

He sighs at the caller ID and picks up.

"Simeon. What gives me the honor of your call." Lucifer doesn't hide his annoyance. 

"I'm sorry to bother you so late. I have just seen who you have picked as the additional angel for the exchange program." Simeon sounds unusually worried. 

"Is there an issue with my pick?" Lucifer feels like this will end up in a huge headache. 

"Not really but there were no pictures in the file right?" Simeon seems to be careful with breaking the news. 

"Yeah, they didn't want me to be biased, whatever that means. Don't tell me that the angel is a giant or something." Lucifer puts a hand to his forehead. 

"No, but I assume that nobody will tell you this before it's too late. That angel was your human exchange student before they died." Simeon knows how much that will hurt everyone. 

Lucifer feels a wave of emotions rushing over him. He can't believe it. 

"Simeon are you serious?" He feels irritated. 

"I'm afraid so. I just needed to tell you this so you can do whatever you need to do." Simeon is well aware of the fact that this warning alone is against angel policy. 

Lucifer takes a deep breath. Suppressing whatever emotions he has. "I appreciate the heads up. This wasn't easy I suppose. I will have to discuss this with my brothers. I will take full responsibility no matter what." Lucifer had picked that student in the end. This was so unexpected that he simply doesn't know how to even react. 

"Take your time Lucifer. I'm sorry about this." Simeon sounds sincere. 

Lucifer doesn't know what to say about this. 

"I will figure it out. They don't know about their past I assume?" Lucifer feels darkness spreading in his heart. Something that he tried to suppress ever since you died. 

Simeon takes a long pause. "No, they don't know and they can't ever know. You know what that could mean for you and for them." Simeon says this with a heavyweight in his voice. 

Lucifer takes a sharp breath that is only matched by the sharp pain in his heart. 

"I see. I will talk with my brothers and Diavolo about this. I call you if there is anything else." 

"Sure, I'm here for you. Goodbye Lucifer." Simeon tries to be gentle but Lucifer pays him little attention. 

"Goodbye." Lucifer ends the call.

  He is tempted to throw the phone against the wall. Lucifer stops himself from that. He rubs his brow with a frown on his face. 

How is he supposed to deal with this? 

Lucifer doesn't know but he also doesn't ponder. 

He quickly texts his brothers to come to the student council room first thing tomorrow.

  Lucifer feels very uneasy for the rest of the night. His dreams are full of vague memories and shadows that somehow resemble you. 

Without any mercy, the next morning comes.

Lucifer does his usual morning routine. 

He finds himself looking in the mirror. "What am I supposed to do?" Lucifer's mirror image stays silent.

   He shakes his head and with a heavy heart, he goes to the meeting. 

Lucifer is the first to arrive, pretty typical. 

Shortly after the agreed-upon time, they have all arrived. Usually, Lucifer would be all too happy to scold them all or to punish them. Not today.

  That alone seems to make everyone uneasy. 

"So, why are we here?" Satan is the first to speak up. 

Lucifer closes his eyes for a moment. 

"Yeah, and why isn't Diavolo here?" Mammon isn't very invested but it's unusual for sure. 

"I was just about to get to that. Today's meeting is something that you can call family internal. I want to talk to each of you before making my next move." Lucifer's face seems frozen. Knowing very well how much drama this will cause. 

"Yeah, this isn't like you want our input. What's next you actually telling us everything?" Belphegor makes a snide remark. 

Lucifer ignores his comment completely.

  This seems to surprise Belphie. 

"I indeed plan to tell you something very important. It's about the new angel transfer student." Lucifer takes a moment to gather himself. 

"What are they actually a giant?" Beel states the same thing as Lucifer the night before. This might've been funny any other time but not today. 

Lucifer shoots him a glare. "I wish that was the issue but actually the angel is a reincarnation of our dead family member who also was human," Lucifer speaks slowly.

  Silence fills the room for a moment. 

"So that's a good thing right? I mean ever since their death it's been very gloomy around here." Asmo chimes in from the side. 

"You have probably forgotten but they have no memory of their old life." Lucifer doesn't miss a beat to correct Asmo. 

"Well, whatever. We can always make new memories." Asmo doesn't seem to care, but his face seems to hide the pain. 

"This is unbelievable Lucifer, how could you do this to us?" Belphie stands up and smacks his hands on the table. 

Beel looks confused and hurt, he only shakes his head. 

"I didn't know before choosing them. Simeon called me last night and gave me a heads up." Lucifer gives a long sigh. 

"Wait hold on, so you just happened to choose them and then they didn't tell us?" Mammon is frustrated and confused. 

"That's typical for the angels. Isn't that exactly why we all turned our backs on them?" Belphie throws his hands up in disbelief. 

"So, we are just supposed to agree to this?" Levi seems deep in thought. 

"No, I want you all to vote if this is okay for you or not." Lucifer knows that he often decides things for them but not this time. 

"Where will they stay?" Beel looks up. 

"With the other angels." Lucifer knows already where this is going. 

Beel is very protective of your room. 

Beel then just nods and looks down.

  "What will we tell them?" Satan is feeling very conflicted.

"Nothing. They will just be an angel from heaven, a fellow exchange student. Nothing else." Lucifer is clenching his fist. 

"Are you kidding me? What the actual hell!" Satan loses his composure. 

"Calm down." Asmo meekly tries to calm him. 

"No, he is right what the actual hell Lucifer!" Belphie seems to the equally annoyed. 

"You should know that according to angel law it is forbidden for an angel to know of their human roots." This rule never was anything that Lucifer cared about until yesterday. 

"Who cares if we get punished? Like we are demons?" Mammon shrugs his shoulders. 

"We aren't the only ones that will be punished. They will too." Lucifer himself couldn't care less about the angel rules. 

"So we have to lie to them? How am I supposed to do that? I can't lie to my best friend!" Levi seems deeply hurt. 

"If they come here then we have little choice. That's another reason why I want you all to vote." Lucifer knows that in this case, he can't decide alone. They all have to play along.

"I want them to come back, regardless of their memory loss... But telling them a lie is just stupid. I'm not okay with this the slightest bit." Levi feels honestly conflicted. Of course, he wants you back even if it's in a new form but this is just stupid to him. 

"Screw these stupid angels and their stupid rules. I figure some way to break that stupid rule without them getting punishment." Satan stands up, still very angry. "And I vote for them to come," Satan yells before slamming the door. 

Lucifer sighs and shakes his head. 

"That's one vote down." 

  "I don't know what I want but I guess it's fine if they don't use the same room." Beel feels very bad about this whole situation. Seeing you again would mean so much to him but it's just not the same as before. You are basically a new person. 

"I vote for them to come. It's better than never seeing them again." Asmo shrugs but fails to smile. 

"I want them to come too. I'm just not good at lying to them…" Levi sighs. 

"Just keep your mouth shut then." Asmo shakes his head. 

"I want them back… Even like this…" Mammon feels very confused but he knows that he rather wants to see you than not to see you. 

"Alright then. What are you saying Belphie?" Lucifer can see the immense pain and confusion on everyone's faces.

  As much as they all want you back they fight with knowing that you won't ever remember them. 

"Like I could say no. I won't play nice though. They better stay away from me." Belphie bits his lower lip. 

Beel puts a hand on his shoulder. "None of us wants to lose them again."

Belphies’ lips quiver. Showing a hint of the pain he hides. 

"As I could just look at that angel and not see them and yet they aren't…the same." Belphie is clearly fighting back tears. 

Beel nods. "It's alright Belphie."

  "So we are all in agreement?" Lucifer looks at each of the brothers. Each of them seems lost in thoughts and doesn't really look at him. 

This is probably the only outcome that everyone can manage.

Lucifer feels just as torn as everyone else. 

"With this, the meeting is over. Return all to your rooms. I will have a talk with Diavolo." 

Lucifer covered everything he can right now. He is well aware of the fact that it won't be easy.

  The rest of the brothers leave the room. All very quiet. 

Lucifer sighs and gets his phone out." Diavolo there is some development that we have to talk about."

"Lucifer, how unusual to call me like this. I'm free right now so come and we can discuss whatever you need." Diavolo seems just like always. 

"I'm on my way." Lucifer hangs up and makes his way to Diavolo's study. 

Diavolo doesn't seem to be very busy. 

"Come sit down." With a smile, Diavolo calls Lucifer closer. 

Lucifer takes a small breath and sits down. 

"I want to cut right to the chase. The exchange student from the celestial realm is the rebirth of our dead human exchange student. I'm sure you are aware of the rules that they will impose on us because of that. I can understand if you don't want to lie but I and my brothers are all okay with them coming here."

"Interesting that you choose them. Well, I will play along, they are basically a different person now. So I have no issues with this." Diavolo likes the heads up but has no issues with it. "How do you feel about this situation Lucifer?" Diavolo is way more interested in this aspect. 

"To be honest I don't know. Maybe it's some kind of cruel joke or it's another chance." Lucifer clutches his hands. His thoughts are still running wild. 

"You hope to bring them back, right? " Diavolo knows how much this loss pains Lucifer. 

"I do but I don't want to lose them by revealing the truth either. Maybe this will be a fitting punishment of some sort for me." Lucifer lets out a self depriving chuckle. 

"Their death wasn't your fault." Diavolo looks at Lucifer with great worry. 

"I didn't protect them. I promised that I would and yet I wasn't able to. I might as well killed them myself." Lucifer looks at his hands. 

"It was a huge tragedy and you did what you could." Diavolo puts a hand in Lucifer's shoulder. 

"It wasn't enough. I won't repeat that same mistake again." Lucifer is lost in grief and he is determined. 

    Diavolo tries to console Lucifer but it's not easy.

  Meanwhile elsewhere in the devildom.

  "Beel, are you still awake?" Belphie is restless in his bed. 

"Yeah. I can't sleep either." Beel mumbles. 

"Will it be really okay for them to be here again?" Belphie looks to the sealing. 

"I don't know. It will be hard to see them." Beel clenches his hand. 

"Yeah, that's true...Beel what are we going to do if… they… If we lose them again…" Belphie can't say it out loud. He is too scared to even think about losing someone important again. 

"Don't say that Belphie." Beel shakes his head. He breathes heavily. 

"I will just not talk to them. Then it will be fine." Belphie sighs. 

"You know that won't work." Beel is concerned. 

"I know." Belphie turns to Beel.

  Then the door opens. "Yo, I was just passing by and heard you are still awake." It's Mammon. 

"By just 'passing by' you mean you were in their room." Belphie rolls his eyes. 

"How did you know? Well, anyway be glad I'm here to cheer you up." Mammon is flustered. 

"Don't worry, I go there too. I'm dusting their things." Beel understands it very well. 

"Ah, so you are the one who's cleaning in there." Mammon is surprised. 

"Well, it's no wonder that you didn't know since we don't spend time together." Beel shrugs. 

"Yeah, so you are only here because you feel lonely I guess." Belphie makes fun of Mammon. 

"I don't feel… No, you are right I feel lonely." Mammon can't hide it. 

"Wow, you are honest for once. I gotta mark that in my calendar." Belphie makes a sarcastic remark. 

"We all feel lonely. Belphie too." Beel shoots a sad glance at Belphie. 

"Well, it affects all of us. What are you going to do Mammon?" Belphie bites his lip. 

"No clue. I just try to be normal I guess." Mammon has no idea what that even means. 

The door then opens again. "Ah, here you are Mammon. I want my game back!" Levi is slightly annoyed. 

"I don't have it here." Mammon shrugs. 

"Keep it down Levi!" Belphie is annoyed by the sudden noise. 

"Sorry, Belphie. I just need it back." Levi is inpatient. 

"I will get it later. I have other stuff on my mind right now." Mammon shakes his head. 

"Can you discuss this somewhere else? I'm trying to sleep here." Belphie groans. 

Then Asmo comes through the open door. "What is this a secret Family meeting without me?" 

"No, we were just about to kick them out." Belphie is kinda done with them. 

“Just come in Asmo.” Beel is sitting on his bed.

“Sweet, let's have a sleepover.” Asmo was just wandering around anyway.

Belphie groans.

  “It's not like we can sleep anyway.” Mammon sighs. 

“I'm okay with this. I have some games we can play.” Levi doesn't want to be alone either.

“I have some snacks here.” Beel gets a small box out.

“Wow, you have food left?” Mammon is surprised.

“I'm not that hungry lately…” Beel looks sad.

“Wait, I text Satan.” Asmo quickly sends a message to Satan.

“What game should we play first?” Levi already pulled some games from who knows were.

“Since you won't listen when I kick you out I choose Devil racer.” Belphie gets up, a bit reluctant.

  The brothers gather around the TV.

“Satan is still researching. I told him to stop but he is stubborn.” Asmo shrugs.

“I check later on him.” Mammon knows it's pointless to convince Satan.

“Come pick your racers!” Levi yells at the rest.

“I wonder why we stopped doing things like this.” Asmo smiles slightly.

“You know why Asmo.” Belphie has a painful expression.

“Yeah. I wonder if it can ever be the same again.” Beel glances at the spot that was usually occupied by you.

“It cannot.” Belphie mumbles.

“No stop! No more of this! Let's just play for tonight.” Levi looks uneasy.

“He has a point, let's race.” Mammon also wants to forget his unease

 .

The brothers play all night.

  ~ I guess this is more aligned with my original plan to show how the arrival of angel mc affected everyone else.

[celt-the-flame-3110]

An: Not my usual content. Read the tags first, please.

Judging by the calendar, it was six months after the battle against Pennywise. Since he had a habit of listening in when Richie talked to the others on the phone, he knew where everyone else was. Bill divorced Audra and moved to Tampa with Mike. Beverly divorced Tom and moved into Ben’s place.

And Richie was still living in LA, laying on the couch and staring up at the ceiling. The tv was on, but it was mostly background noise. Eddie was sitting in the arm chair across from Richie, not trying to pretend that he wasn’t staring at him. A half-empty bottle of whiskey sat beside the couch at his feet, the empty on the rocks glass sitting on the coffee table.

Richie talked to the rest of their friends less since Stan died. He would only let the conversation last five minutes until he would lie about being busy and hanging up. The only people Richie would talk to are people from work, the cashier at the grocery store, and any food delivery people that came to his apartment. 

Otherwise, he would be at home by himself. He never even interacted with Eddie at all and that fucking sucked. But it wasn’t really his fault.

Eddie sighed and finally got up from the armchair. He walked to stand next to Richie, where he was laying down—as he had been for the past four hours.

“Rich…”

Richie didn’t acknowledge Eddie, just continued to stare at the ceiling in silence.

“I know that Stan’s death was hard on you. It’s hard on all of us. I know that you two were really close, so it’s even more difficult for you, but he was our friend too. We all loved him and we’re all hurting. But you can’t go on like this forever.”

Eddie wanted to cry, he really did. He missed Stan more than anything and seeing Richie hurting this way made him even sadder. But he just couldn't do it anymore.

“I know that you like to think that you can just drink and sleep for the rest of your life, but you can’t. It’s going to kill you, Rich. And I’ll be damned if I let one of us die again.”

Eddie dropped to his knees, somehow not accidentally knocking the glass bottle over in the process, and reached up to touch Richie’s face. He felt the warmth radiating off of him, warming his constantly cold hand.

“Rich… you need to talk to someone. I understand that you might not feel comfortable talking to a professional. But you have four other people that are just a phone call away and they all know exactly what you’re going through. Please stop shutting everyone out.”

Richie reached up to touch the cheek that Eddie’s hand was covering, but the phone rang before he could.

Richie groaned in frustration as he rolled off of the couch. He stumbled rather than walked to where his cell phone was laying on the floor. Eddie was still standing next to Richie and, when Richie picked up the phone, saw that Mike was calling

“Answer it. Don’t you dare ignore him. You’ve been avoiding him, and everyone else, for far too long.”

Eddie wasn’t sure if Richie was just tired of avoiding his friends or if he was actually hearing Eddie for once, but he answered the phone.

“Hello?” Richie asked, as if he didn’t have caller ID.

Eddie couldn’t actually hear the other side of the conversation but he assumed that he was greeting Richie.

“Hey, Mikey! How’ve you been?”

Eddie could tell that the cheerful tone was forced but he let it slide, since he knew that Richie would never answer the phone sounding sad.

After a beat of silence, Richie answered, “I’m doing well. How are you and Bill?”

Eddie scoffed, knowing that he was bull-shitting, but Richie paid him no mind.

Richie looked worried and what Mike said, but he kept his tone upbeat, “What day?”

Eddie perked up for the first time in a while. The last time Richie saw the others was when they fought Pennywise and those were, obviously, not ideal circumstances. Seeing everyone again, this time in a safe environment, would be really good for him.

“I’ll have to check my calendar. Give me a second.”

But, instead of going to actually check his planner, Richie just stood there.

After a minute of staring at the fucking wall in silence, Richie said, “Sorry, Mike. That day doesn’t work for me.”

“Richie.” Eddie said in a warning intonation. 

“No, no, it’s fine,” Richie said over the phone. “Don’t reschedule for my sake. You guys should go have fun.”

After being silent for a moment, Richie sighed. “Mike, listen. Bill, Bev, Ben, and I all have very busy schedules. Trying to coordinate a day when the four of us are free is going to be a pain in the ass at best, and impossible at worst. Don’t try to reschedule just because I can’t make it.”

Unfortunately, Mike seemed to buy the excuse, because Richie said, “Bye, Mike. Say ‘hi’ to Bill for me. Maybe we can get together some other time.”

Then, Richie hung up the phone and had the audacity to sigh in relief.

“Richie, what the fuck? Are you fucking serious?”

Richie only collapsed back on the couch, starting to stare at the ceiling again.

Eddie took a deep breath, not wanting to be mad at the only man—no, the only person—he had ever loved in his entire life. Richie was going through hell and didn’t need anger.

“Rich,” Eddie said a few minutes later, now calm. “You have to stop doing this shit to yourself. I wish I could help you, but you know that I can’t.”

Eddie gently touched the side of Richie’s face, wanting to kiss him but knowing that he can’t. Because they weren’t together. He just couldn’t tell Richie how he really felt about him. He had his chance, six months ago, and he fucking blew it...

“Rich, please. You have to get help.”

Richie just continued to stare vacantly at the ceiling, not even giving Eddie a sideways glance. Eddie got back on his knees and stayed next to Richie, still touching his cheek. He stayed like that until Richie’s eyes slid shut and he fell asleep again.

Eddie knew how Richie felt. All he wanted to do was sleep forever and never wake back up, but he couldn’t. Because he had someone who needed him, and he couldn’t stop until Richie was better. He would stick with him, even if it took forever.

[docholligay]

Fic Prompt: the first time someone kissed Winston on the forehead (Overwatch)

The patient was, to use the words of the board Winston had to stand in front of, “functional.” 

Lena “Tracer” Oxton was expected to die of her injuries, and then didn’t. She was expected to spend the rest of her life catatonic, but she neglected to do that, as well. Four months out from her return from the stream of time itself, she was a bit quiet, a bit shaky, and there was little doubt that she would never be able to return to field work, but she was far more alive and far more engaged with the world than was ever expected of her. 

These are the things Winston reported, along with his progress on some manner of equipment that would allow her to leave the containment unit. Dr. Zeigler--Winston had only recently gotten the slightest bit comfortable calling her Angela, no matter how she insisted--was in charge of the greater medical specifics, only some of which he understood. They presented every other week, and every other week, no matter what Winston said about his chronal device, no matter what Mercy said about Tracer’s improving tremor and complete seizure control, there was nothing but a frown and a question: 

“When will she be able to tell us about the Slipstream?” 

Winston had made a thousand excuses for why she couldn’t go before the board. She had bad days, sometimes, where she couldn’t do much more than lie on her little bed with her eyes closed. There was a large possibility that in trying to recount it, she could have a flashback so violent that it would steal her ability to speak again--did they not remember when she was told her father was dead? She may not remember anything at all, given how aggressively being slipped through time had attacked her nervous system. 

He, of course, left out that Tracer had taken to cheerfully trying to decorate her little ‘bug jar��� with a bright duvet cover, and painting the little desk, asking to have some of her little tin airplanes sent with scraps of other decor from London, that she’d begged to have Winston ask if there was any chance at a window for her. He left out how she excitedly bounced and chose what to dress for the visit her family was allowed every few weeks, and that she chattered with them, full of life, the light in her eyes not even dimming when she tired, and leaned back against the pillows of her bed. He hadn’t lied, exactly, about her limitations, just made them rather more prominent than they seemed to be. 

Winston was protecting her, was the truth of it. 

It was a little stupid, he knew. Tracer greeted him brightly and talked to him all day because he was the only one nearby. She was kind and cheerful with Mercy, too, wasn’t she? She didn’t care to speak to Moira, but in fairness, Moira had suggested that letting her die and studying her body was far more valuable than expending the effort to rehabilitate her, so it was only natural there be some antipathy between them. It was silly to get too familiar simply because Tracer was a friendly person. 

 We’re friends, Win. ‘ope you don’t mind if I call you Win, us being such firm friends and all.”

She’d said that only last week, as they’d shared a fairly dismal Thanksgiving dinner brought over from the cafeteria. Friends. No one had, not really, ever declared themselves as such, and certainly not with a bright smile and an excited little rock of her body that he was learning meant she was quite happy. He tried not to let the threat of losing her get in the way of developing the chronal accelerator so she could leave. She had been so kind to him. 

He walked into her bug jar, letting one door close behind him and the other open in front of him, preserving her time lock. She was sitting at her little desk, leg bouncing against the floor as she wrote a letter, but looked up quickly as Winston walked in, and smiled all the way into the corners of her eyes. 

“Win! Afternoon, love!” 

He set down a little plate in front of her, some small sandwiches and cookies that hadn’t looked too bad over in the cafeteria arranged as neatly as he could. 

“Just some lunch.” 

“Oh, thank you, love!” she jumped to her feet and headed over to the little electric kettle in the corner of the room, “Forgot what time it was altogether. You haven’t been in yet this morning!” 

“No, I had a meeting.” 

“When will she be able to tell us about the Slipstream?” It had been so impatient, the growl so evident. 

She laughed. “And you sound like it was just lovely. A cup for you?” 

He nodded. “That’d be great. Lena--” 

“Yes?” She turned around, leaning against the tiny table she’d assembled to give herself the look of having a kitchen, more and more trying to make a tiny studio of what had only even been meant to something akin to a hospital room. 

“The board...the one overseeing your...well, you--” 

“Oh!” she jumped up and clapped, and then caught the edge of the chair, having made herself  swoon a bit, but closed her eyes and took a deep breath, looking up and smiling again, “‘ave to be a bit more careful, but, Win, did they say I could ‘ave the window? Enrichment, right?” 

He shook his head. “They didn’t say anything about the window.” 

Her kettle went off and she poured two mugs, bringing over her little tin of tea bags and sugar. She gave one to Winston, then sat down on the bed and patted the space beside her. Winston stood there for a moment, thumb rubbing at the edge of the mug. He must have considered it too long, because she patted the bed again. 

“Come ‘ave a sit. Something’s wrong.” 

He worried for a moment about breaking her bed, but she didn’t seem inclined to take no for an answer, and she would ignore her lunch until he told her what was going on. That much he had learned, over the last weeks she had been coming into herself. 

“What is it?” she looked up at him, and gently placed a hand on his knee. 

Did she have any idea how strange and disarming it was, that she never flinched from him, no matter how he moved? That she touched him with as much gentleness and friendships as other human beings touched each other? Even people who respected him never looked at him like this, like they were simply having a chat and a cup of tea with a friend. She was such an unusual person, scatterbrained but bright as a penny, her sense sensitive but her will strong as iron. Winston loved her, he realized, very dearly. 

“They want to talk to you.” 

“Good! I’d like to have a chat with them, as well.” She took a sip of her tea. “I’d like a window, you see, even if there isn’t much to watch, and I think I’ve the right to have at least as often a call ‘ome as any enlisted, right? Not as if I’m giving away secrets or nothing, just would like to see me Nan more than once a month.” 

Winston shook his head. “They want to know about the Slipstream.” 

Tracer thought for a moment. “What about it? Not as if I’m ‘iding it somewhere.” 

“What happened, where they can find it,” He took a drink, “How you managed to make it back.” 

“Already told Ang everything I know. It’s in me medical records. Isn’t much.” 

“I know. But they think...I’ll tell them you can’t, don’t worry about it.” He sat back and looked over at the grey steel wall Tracer had tried to cheer up with a few inelegant but colorful drawings, made with the colored pencils he’d brought to her. “I’ll just keep telling them the same thing.” 

“Really on you, are they?” She didn’t wait for a response, but sat poker-straight and nodded. “I’ll do it. At their earliest convenience, no less. Ask me whatever they want, and I’ll answer with everything I don’t know till they’re satisfied.” 

Winston shook his head. “They’ll interrogate you I think--they want to find it so badly--and then what if they….I mean, your health, they could throw you into...I don’t want you to get hurt.” 

She shook her head and smiled, standing up in front of him. “And every time I got into the air might ‘ave been me last. I’m a fast-jet pilot, Win, risk is part of life, innit? Sides all that, Ang’ll be there. I go down a bit too, ‘ard, she’ll give me a bit of ‘elp. And you’ll be there,” she raised her mug, “Always an ‘elp to me, you are. Won’t let them keep bullying me friend, even if ‘e’s ‘appy enough to do it.” 

There it was again. Friend. No prompting, no nothing, just her wide brown eyes sparkling, no sense of deception in them. 

“Thank you for everything you’ve done for me. Can never truly repay you.” 

She leaned forward, on her tiptoes, and kissed his forehead. 

He’d never felt anything like it. Not from Dr. Harold, not from any of the techs or scientists who had raised them, not from anyone. It was such a casual bit of throwaway intimacy that Tracer seemed to already be moving on to the next issue at hand, picking up a ham sandwich from the try and inspecting it. 

She’d forget this in the next few minutes. But Winston would remember it for the rest of his life, what it felt like to have a human being’s lips on his forehead, with no hesitation, her hand brushing back his hair, simultaneously so thoughtless and so loving, and loving because she put no effort or thought behind it. Because she simply did it and moved on to her ham sandwich. 

He was glad he wasn’t built to cry, in that moment. 

Tracer was his friend. He had a friend, and she was not afraid of him, and even if he built the best medical device in the world, she would leave this room but never him, not forever and not for real. 

Because he had a friend.

[smol-and-grumpy]

Something Just Like This - CH02

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester, mobster boss. He’s a little cocky, a lot ruthless and more often than not, short tempered. But he’s also, Dean Winchester, a war veteran and hero who suffers under a shit ton of PTS. He met her in a bar and thinks it’s fate that brought her to him. Little does he know why she’s really here.

Warnings: There’s still none. Oh, it’s probably gonna be burning slow, is all.

WC: 2940

SERIES MASTERLIST

As Dean looked out through the broken windshield of the Humvee, he saw Milligan stagger back. Milligan struggled to hold himself up, he had to brace himself on the barrells to his left, before he lost balance and Dean watched as Milligan’s body made contact with the ground. 

“Milligan!” Dean shouted out, his vocal chords already hurting, strained from the screaming he did before. 

Dean placed his hand on his squad leader’s shoulder who’s sitting in the front, the man’s hands were working on the radio unit that was dead silent. “You’ve got to let me go get him.”

“You’re insane, Winchester,” The squad leader muttered under his breath, “For all I know, we could be the only ones still alive!”

“Let me go get him!”

Dean didn’t really know why he wanted to go out there while it rained fucking bullets, and the Taliban already penetrated the camp. He wasn’t even close to Milligan, in fact, he was not close to any one of them, but he knew that Milligan was still alive and they’ll fucking lose him if his squad leader won’t let Dean go out and get him.

There’s a sound in the distance, some kind of siren.

No, not sirens. 

A phone.

His phone.

Dean opens up his eyes that are embarrassingly wet. He reaches out for the phone, picking it up without looking at the caller ID.

“Hello,”

“Well, hello there princess, so glad you’re alive!” 

“Cas,” Dean huffs out, rubbing his palm over his face, brushing at the tear that rolls down and sits upright. He steals a glance at the clock, it’s 8.32AM. 

“Awe, and you even remember my name!”

Dean can swear he only slept for two hours tops. He remembers leaving the Roadhouse in a hurry because Cas had called as there was some trouble with the cargo. Dean had left before he could even find out her name, and before he could finish that damn whiskey. 

He remembers going back to the bar later. Ellen was already in the process of closing up and the girl had left. Ellen asked if Dean wanted to stay and have a drink but he politely declined before he came back and raided the bar in his apartment. 

And it’s weird that all he thought about while he was drinking was not really the war. It was not really the pressure of fitting back into a world without said fucking war. Not really the responsibility and burden to carry on with the family business after the death of his father. No, his thoughts revolved around her and he didn’t even know why. 

There are things happening that he can’t explain and he can’t even say that he likes that. If anything, Dean hates not being able to be in control. He hates to feel helpless. It’s like that day at Combat Outpost Keating . The day he lost a part of himself.

“Are you still with me, boss?” 

Dean moves to the edge of the bed and tries to get up, “Yeah,”

“Well, just wanted to remind you of the meeting at 9AM.”

“I know, Cas. I’m the one who called for the meeting.” 

“Just wanna make sure. Do I have to come pick you up?”

Dean knows that Cas wanting to pick him up is Cas’ way to make sure that Dean will show up. There had been countless times that he missed meetings because of his drinking habit and he really doesn’t understand why they are still loyal to him. Why they’re all still putting up with his sorry ass.

“I can manage. Thanks.”

With that, Dean hangs up and tosses the phone onto the bed before he walks into the shower.

    Y/N doesn’t know if Dean would come in tonight since he left in a hurry last night, so when a tall handsome man walks through the door, dressed too nice for the place, she can’t lie that she feels like a weight has been lifted from her heart. It’s some kind of a weird sense of joy that she’s feeling, even though she should not be feeling that, probably.

Their eyes meet and if she’s not wrong, she can see the corner of his lips curving up, producing a small smile. He looks good when he smiles. 

Dean sits down, and tonight Y/N doesn’t ask him what he wants. She slides the tumbler over before he even settles. 

Now, there’s a grin on his face and this time, she’s sure that it isn’t just a Fata Morgana. She smiles back before she gets on with her tasks.

It’s two hours later and people start to go home or are on their way back to whatever responsibilities they were escaping from. 

That’s how it works with the Roadhouse, she figured. People here are night owls. Mostly operating in the shadows of the dark because they all got something to hide. 

Y/N has a hard time concentrating on her tasks because Dean’s always watching her. As if he wants to read her mind, as if he wants to see if she knows who he really is. 

Of course she knows who he is. Her main target. Nothing else, right? 

Right.

She’s slicing up some lemon and lime when he starts to talk. It took him long enough , she thinks. He’s been mostly sitting here, staring at his phone or at her while he sips on his glass, which she refilled thrice already.

“So, you’re new?” His voice is whiskey rough, low and smooth and it’s music to her ears. She can understand him clearly, even with the bass that’s coming out from the jukebox that’s drumming in her ears.

She looks at him but is still cutting away blindly, “Yeah, saw the ad in the newspaper.” 

“Why this bar? Doesn’t look like it’s your scene?” Dean holds his fourth drink between his thumb and middle finger, his index finger points at her and he tilts his head back to drink. She can see him squint at the burn. 

“You don’t know me, how should you know what’s my scene?” She turns around, searching for the box of lemons she knows she placed in the pantry earlier today, and even though she knows that she’d already cut more than she’ll ever be needing, she doesn’t want to stop because she doesn’t want for Dean to stop talking to her. Especially now when he finally does talk. 

Y/N finds the little box and turns back to cut the lemon at the workstation that’s right in front of Dean. Her face burns up and she hopes that it doesn’t make her look like an idiot.

Dean shrugs, “You look,” He pauses and she sees him thinking carefully about his next words, “Too innocent, for this place. Too good, actually. I doubt that someone who’s not exactly born into the life where their parents own a dingy dive bar, there’s no way any girl would want to work here. Look around, it’s not exactly a nice place, is it?” 

Of course he’s right and she hates how right he is, the way he knows that he’s right. There’s no way that she would have wanted to work here, if it wasn’t for him. The Roadhouse is a place with greasy bikers and truckers, but mostly, criminals. She wonders if he knows that he too, looks like he doesn’t fit in. He’s wearing a black fucking suit, a stark contrast against his white shirt. The tie is still tight around his neck (not like she’s staring at his Adam's apple the whole evening to have noticed it).

Y/N thinks that he’s attractive, she can’t lie about that. The crinkles around his eyes crease deep when he smiles (not that he’s doing a lot of that), the scruff on his face doesn’t really look groomed but it doesn’t make the man less good looking. 

And it’s different. Different seeing the target in real life instead of pictures and surveillance camera footage. God, those pictures and videos don't do him justice at all.

He’s raising an eyebrow, as if he’s waiting for an answer and she almost forgot what he asked or what they talked about before. She’s too lost in the green of his eyes.

“Ellen needed help, and I needed a job,” She shrugs before she places the cut off half of lemon into a bowl, “She said her daughter had left to work in the city.” She looks at him to see if there’s a reaction. 

It was true. Ellen did tell her, but she already knew what happened. Jo Harvelle is now working for Dean Winchester and Jo’s apparently pretty damn good at what she does. 

“Ow, Fuck!” She hisses out and frowns, abandons the knife in her hand to hold her middle finger. That’s a fucking amateur move, she thinks, cutting yourself while slicing lemon. Great fucking job, Y/N!

Before she can even decide what she does first — if she should rinse her finger or if she should just put her dish towel around it — Dean’s beside her. He has a hand on her wrist and pulls her towards the sink. Turning on the water tap he holds her finger under it, his other hand examines the wound under the stream of water.

“You’re lucky that the knife didn’t go too deep,” He says and tilts his head to look down at her.

She knows a lot about Dean Winchester. What he does, where he likes to go, even his favorite food, but she didn’t expect him to be this tall.

Her face flares up. 

“I’m alright, thanks. I can take it from here,” Y/N feels the sting of the wound that travels up her arm to her heart. She fucking hates looking at a gashing wound to be honest, and she’d rather someone does it for her, but it can’t be him. He makes her all kind of uncomfortable. 

“I got this,” He says calmly, “You have a first aid kit?”

She points to the pantry below the sink and Dean retrieves it one handed, while the other one still holds her hurt finger beneath the running water. 

“Done this more often than I should have,” Dean’s voice is steady and comfortably calm, “Sammy.. Um.. my brother. He was a wild kid, always coming home with scraped knees and what not,” She can hear something else in his voice, something fond . 

Y/N knows about Sam, knows that he’s Dean’s right hand. Wonder if he’s as ruthless as Dean is said to be. 

He turns the tab, shutting the water off and takes her hand out from under. Dean reaches out to pull at a sheet off the kitchen roll next to the sink and dabs at her wound with it. It’s still bleeding a little and she cringes at the sight. She can work on other people’s wounds without even blinking but her own? Nope.

Dean abandons the paper towel and takes something out from the first aid kit, “This will sting a little,” He smirks, looking at her as if to see if everything’s alright with her before he turns his gaze back to the wound and sprays something on it, and it fucking really stings. 

“Ow!” She breathes out, flinching and it’s the normal reaction to pull the hand away which Dean still has a tight grip around. 

“Shhhh, almost there,” He hushes her, his voice is low and fucking soothing. 

Afterwards, Dean lets go of her hand and searches for a band aid, tearing the wrapping paper off when he finds one and wraps it around her finger, “There you go,” He smiles, all bravado and fucking proud, and she can’t help but smile with him.

“Thank you,” Y/N mumbles, helping him clean up and throwing the towel into the trash before she proceeds to clear her work station at the counter. 

“You’re welcome,” He says but he doesn’t move, just stands there and watches her while she tries to ignore the green eyes of him that are trained on her. She tries fucking hard to ignore the breadth of his shoulder, that’s blocking her way, “Do I at least get to know your name?” 

Her heart races and she’s thinking about giving him a false name, but realizes that she didn’t use one to apply for this job. There are no traces of her in any database when she took on this job, so she should be alright. 

“Y/N.” She says shyly. 

“Dean.” He grins wide and genuine, showing his perfect white teeth. The crease around his eyes deepening and her heart is doing things it definitely shouldn’t.

Dean makes his way back to his seat. The grin’s still on his face, as if he’s proud of something, but she doesn’t know what. 

Y/N places the cutting board into the sink before she opens up beer for the guy who signaled it over to her and brought it over. Dean’s eyes are following her every move.

“Can I get you anything else?” She asks when she’s back in front of him. 

He lifts his glass between his thumb and middle finger, tapping at it with his index finger, “Another one?” It’s a question, she knows, and she doesn’t really get why he asks. Does he expect her to tell him to stop drinking? Should she? She doesn’t know, all she knows is that Dean Winchester could die of alcohol poisoning and she wouldn’t care. Would she? Yeah, no, she definitely wouldn’t.

She refills his glass quickly and proceeds to clean the things in the sink and Dean’s still fucking watching her. 

“So, what’s your story, Dean?” She asks when she turns back to face him. 

Taking her wash cloth, she wipes at the bar top. Her heart is pounding and she wonders if she gave anything away by asking things too soon. 

“Why do you wanna know my story?” 

“I don’t know, that’s what I’m here for, no? Men always tend to spill their stories and troubles to the barmaid. They know that their secrets are safe.” 

“Are they?” Dean raises his right eyebrow, the creases on his forehead showing but it’s a playful act, she knows, sees it in his eyes as they sparkle.

Y/N dries her hand on the apron around her waist before she braces her hands on the counter and leans forward. He watches her with amusement in his eyes. 

He leans closer too, and she notices something. 

Holy shit, freckles!

Dean fucking Winchester has freckles, which, to her disappointment, doesn’t make him any less attractive. 

She leans even closer and her nose picks up the faint smell of his cologne that smells dark and somehow sweet at the same time, “Cross my heart,” She whispers, her nose grazing his temple. 

And when she parts from him, she notices him smiling at her. 

     Dean’s heart is pounding when she leans close. He hopes she doesn’t hear it. She’s so close he can breathe in her smell, and he really likes the faint perfume she’s wearing. 

Then he laughs, sharp, loud, and she smiles back. What a fucking pretty little thing. He really wonders how she ended up here. Wonders if he should give her another job in one the bars he owns in the city, but then thinks that he wouldn’t want anyone to stare at her the way he did tonight. His greediness wouldn’t allow that. He wants to have a place where he can unwind and this place has just gotten a whole lot better.

“Well, maybe another time, sweetheart,” Dean downs the rest of his drink in one go. He flips his wrist, knowing that technically he had to be on his way a half hour ago already, but thinks it was worth it to have stayed longer. 

“You’re not going to drive do you?” She asks when he stands up and fishes out a bundle of cash from his dress pants. 

Dean ignores her question because yeah, of course he’s going to drive. He doesn’t tell her that he’s got half the police force on his payroll though. 

He places $100 on the counter, sliding it over to her while he watches her face tightening and the crease between her eyebrows deepens. Thinks that it’s damn cute, wants to ease it away, preferably with a kiss. 

“Oh no, Ellen said not to take money from you,” She waves him off before she places her forefinger on the bill and slides it back. 

“It’s for you.” 

It’s true. Dean doubts that Ellen is paying her nearly enough to survive. And it’s all out of greed and kind of a self service really, because he wouldn’t want her to change jobs just because she doesn’t earn enough to get by.

“That’s too much. I barely did anything,” Her face starts to pick up color.

She blushes so fucking sweet. He has to give her that.

“Alright,” Dean says, putting the bill back into his pants and leaving his hands in his pockets. He knows when to stop and he has the feeling that she’d be mad if he presses further, “Guess, I’ll try again next time.” 

She laughs. A nice sound and she even wrinkles her nose.

It’s a laugh that is somehow contagious. Something Dean wants to hear more of. 

“Good luck with that,” She says with an easiness in her smile. 

“I’ll see you around, Y/N.” He winks and waves before he turns around and walks out with a strange feeling in his gut. 

CH.03

[httpheh]

five times they had an unresolved tension, and that one time it got resolved part 1/? — 

 Tom is a household name in the modeling industry. Graduated from the prestigious Hogwarts School of Arts, he signed an exclusive contract with the renowned designer Salazar Slytherin, and started walking on London’s Fashion Week. 

 Ever since then, the model’s face would regularly grace Prophet’s cover, showcasing designs fresh from Slytherin’s sketches. He became everyone’s favorite in less than a year, even Cedric Diggory, who debuted in Ilvermorny’s Winter Collection paled in comparison. 

 Harry skimmed through the glossy pages of Prophet’s newest issue, barely listening to Hermione’s ramblings about the company’s work ethic. "Really though, Harry. The pressure’s really high. I have to stay until seven in the evening every day to clean up after the photoshoots. And general meeting starts at seven in the morning.”

 Despite her protests’, Hermione seemed to be proud of herself for being able to get accepted as an intern in Prophet, which is her lifelong dream ever since she was eleven. 

 “He’s everywhere I swear.” Harry remarked, staring at Tom’s face on the magazine. Hermione hummed, “He’s Slytherin’s favorite. Shows up in every season of Mosmordre’s look-book,“ 

 "Everyone likes him; Prophet’s sales doubled when he was featured on the cover. Something Slughorn took a mental note of. Our director’s practically head over heels for him.”

 Letting out an amused laugh, Harry slide the magazine across the table, giving it back to Hermione. 

“Well, at least you got a stable job.” He remarked, mumbling a thanks as a waitress puts his drink on the table. She snorted, “Well, It’s not my fault you decline to intern at Prophet together.“ 

 "My speciality is with nature, not people.” He retorted, pouring too much sugar into his tea. 

“And how’s your application to Fantastic Beasts and— What’s the name?“ 

“Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them. Still haven’t got the news. they probably rejected my pictures again.”

Both went silent; Hermione flipping through Prophet and Harry drinking his hot tea, cursing silently as the tea slowly burnt his tongue. “Anyways, how’s Sumatra?” Hermione asked, changing the subject. “Its exotic. My memory card’s full of shades of green up and brown below.”

 Harry unzipped his camera bag, revealing a few of his best shots in the tropical forests. Hermione’s mouth gaped in awe, remarking that the view reminds her of the forests’ in Amazon. “With this, Fantastic Beasts have absolutely no reason to reject your pictures. Look at them! I’ll pay for them!“ 

 "Thank you for the mental support, Hermione. But only three freelancers got featured in each issue. I can’t set my hopes too high.” 

Hermione made a dismissive gesture, “Nonsense, I would hex anyone who rejects this masterpiece.” 

“Neville helped me in most shots though, he ought to get credit for that too.” 

“Neville? I heard his pictures got showcased in last month’s exhibition.” Harry’s eyebrows perked, “Really?” 

Hermione stared at him, “This is why you got to pay more attention on what’s happening around you. Yes, Neville Longbottom is now an accomplished photographer, probably in process of being a professional and setting up his photo studio. So why don’t you start by interning at Prophet?” 

“Like I said, Hermione–” 

“I get it,” She interrupted, “It’s a matter of preference, but can’t you start by taking pictures of people? You could imagine them as trees or something.” She suggested. 

Harry knew their conversations are always going back to this matter. “People are different, Hermione. I simply prefer nature better.” 

“Yes, but one must settle with less if the situation calls for it.” 

Hermione has always been a persistent person; he couldn’t blame her, it was what made her top of the class, graduating with perfect scores. “I’ll think about it.” He finally replied dismissively.

 Hermione looked as if she wanted to say something, but refrained as she took a sip of her tea, which has been left on the table untouched for a bit too long. 

It was seven fifteen in the morning. Harry rubbed his eyes, his hands searching for the familiar thin object resting next to his nightstand. 

Wait, he thought. His alarm doesn’t ring until eight-thirty. 

Peering at the phone screen, Harry groaned. “’Ello?” 

“Harry! Are you free today?” Hermione’s voice resonated across his messy flat. “What?” Yawning as he got out of bed, Harry leans against the wall for support while searching for his spectacles on the floor. 

“Prophet’s photographer got sick, the usual fill in is out of the country. Can you fill in instead?” 

“Found it!” He mumbled, adjusting his spectacles on his nose. Hermione’s groan could be heard from the line, “You just woke up didn’t you?” 

Harry shrugged, “My circadian rhythm is not like the others.” 

“Anyways,” Hermione continued, “Can you fill in instead?” 

Sandwiching his phone in between his shoulder and his ears, Harry opened the fridge rather hastily, scanning for a bottle of orange juice inside. 

“So, I’m a fill in for a fill in?” He confirmed, pouring his orange juice on a tea cup. There was a pause. “You don’t seem delighted.” 

“Outstanding deduction, Mr. Holmes” His sarcastic remark earned a light groan from the other line. 

“Just a shot, and you’ll be free.” Harry took a shot of his orange juice, wondering how she will react to the new pun he just discovered. 

“Interesting, just tell me the time and I’ll be there.” 

Harry swore he could hear Hermione giggling. “Brilliant! I need you to be here at seven forty-five.” 

And he wondered why he agreed. 

Prophet’s headquarters is located in the heart of Diagon Alley, which also happens to be the place where the bloody traffic is. Slamming the taxi door behind him, Harry struggled to get past the sea of people, bumping into at least a dozen of people and more curses being directed at him ( in different languages too!). 

The entrance to Prophet requires a thorough body check; his bag was scanned, he had to walked through the x-ray at least three times before he remembered to put his Iphone 4 into the x-ray machine to be scanned. 

In the end, the security gave him the Visitor’s ID and told him to wait at the lobby, despite his reason of being the fill in of this fill in for this certain photoshoot. Harry couldn’t blame him; the fact that his reasoning has too few of an information has made him looked suspicious. 

“Harry!” A familiar voice shouted, and Harry turned to see his saviour Hermione running towards him. “Quick!” She yanked his wrist, dragging him across the lobby to the elevator. Hermione punched the floor, waiting for the doors to close before saying anything. Harry, who has earned a Doctorate in Reading Hermione’s Body Language, braced for the future attack. 

“Fucking Goyle. He must’ve mistaken you as a bloody model up for casting. Now we’re late!” Harry raised his eyebrows. 

“A model?” He asked, knowing that Hermione doesn’t like to be interrupted. 

“Yes, a model. Look at you, your body is so… petite.“ She retorted. The elevator made a ding! as the doors opened, revealing the busy photoshoot scene. 

Harry ignored her last statement, tailing her as she made her way to the casting director, who introduced himself as Armando Dippet and to the Head designer, Salazar Slytherin. 

“Now, Mr. Dippet and Slytherin, may I introduce you our new photographer intern , Harry James Potter.” 

“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Dippet, Mr Slytherin.” Harry said, extending his hand for a handshake. 

“Wildlife photographer, are you, M’ boy?” Dippet asked, shaking his hand firmly. Harry froze, “How did you–” 

“Miss Granger has referred us to you.” Slytherin supplied, shaking his hand as soon as Dippet lets his hands go. 

“It’s not everyday we get a wildlife photographer. I think we could flirt with the idea of having a wildlife photographer in charge of today's photoshoot. What are your thoughts, Slytherin?” Dippet’s voice was calm, yet there was an authoritative aura behind it, Harry observed. 

“That would do. After all, I am impressed with how he captures the Sumatran tigers with such precision and beauty. I am looking forward to how he will capture my designs.” 

Before Harry could muster a word, Hermione decided to speak up, “Harry is a dear friend of mine, Mr. Slytherin. You do not need to worry, Mosmordre’s look book will surely be a work of art.” 

“Then, we will leave you to familiarize yourself to the studio. We will do Polaroid casting first, then Tom at one. Consider yourself part of Prophet’s family now.” Harry forces an awkward acknowledging smile as Dippet patted his back, leaving him with Hermione to check on the designs. 

“You could’ve told me the truth!” 

“I’m very sorry!” 

Both shouted at the same time, ignoring everyone’s curious stare. “I’m very sorry, I’m just so desperate and showed them a couple of pictures you sent me last night and they just.. liked your style?” Hermione’s voice was softer than before, as if trying to not hurt his feelings. 

Harry snorted at the thought, “You could, you know, not lie to me.” 

Hermione lets out a frustrated groan, “Just help me out, this once. Please.” 

[sweetiepie08]

All I Ask of You (Chap 1)

The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance fic

Deet x Rian

She walked into his life when all seemed lost. He accepted her when the other surface dwellers didn't. She was gentle. He was brave. Their first impressions dwelt in their minds and their feelings grew as their journey wore on. They supported each other, comforted each other, and gave each other strength. Together, they were a light in the darkness.

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3.  Chapter 4. Chapter 5. 

[-]

               “I don’t think you’re a monster.”

He had no idea how badly he needed to hear those words until they touched his ears. But he did. He needed it. He needed, so badly, for someone to listen to him, to talk to him like he wasn’t mad or a murderer. He needed to hear he wasn’t a raving lunatic, that he was worth listening to. Because some small part of him started to wonder…

Somehow the doubts managed to creep in, despite what he knew. He wasn’t sick. He knew what he saw. He knew what the Skeksis did. He had the essence to prove it. But no one would hear it. No one would look at the truth that was right in front of their faces. His own father would rather believe his son was mad than believe he’d been living a lie. Everywhere Rian turned, he found new enemies. In mere days he’d been hunted by the Skeksis, cast out by his clan, and become a pariah among other gelfling.

Wait, days? Had it really only been that long? He counted and it was true. Five days, to be exact. Less than a week ago, he and Mira roved about the castle, practicing their swordsmanship, pilfering treats from the castle kitchen, making Gurjin roll his eyes with their inside jokes and silly nicknames…. This time last week, Mira was probably plotting with Gurjin to play a prank on him. He could imagine those two snickering behind his back, whispering about whatever joke they had up their sleeves. Things seemed so simple then. Mira so full of life and Gurjin always quick with his dry wit.

And now, Gurjin awaited his fate in the clutches of the Skeksis while Rian carried what was left of Mira on his belt. How had everything become so twisted so fast?

              But that Grotton… Deet was her name… She had no intention of hunting or hurting. She meant to help him. And he pulled a sword on her. He could smack himself in the face for that one. Did he apologize? He couldn’t remember. If he ever saw her again, he definitely should.

              She helped him regardless. It was only a campfire, but it meant the world to him. She looked at him without fear, spoke to him as if he were just any other gelfling, and when he gave her the flint stones, she did not flinch from the touch of his hands. The simple exchange had become so strange to him in the last few days, he had to ask. “You’re not scared of me?” he said.

“I don’t think so,” she replied. “Should I be?” She said it so gently, he found himself letting some of the feelings he held inside trickle out.

              “Seems like every other gelfling is. They think that I’m a monster. They’re all too scared to see the truth, even when it’s right in front of them.”

              That’s when she said “I don’t think you’re a monster.” The kindness in her eyes cleared the clouds of fear in his mind. The sincerity of her voice cracked the wall he’d built around his heart on his short journey. Her words warmed and calmed him more than any campfire ever could. In that moment, she seemed the one thing left in the world untouched by darkness. If she were someone else, if she were Mira or Gurjin, he might have crumbled right there, let everything out, released all the emotions pent up inside him. He might have done it even for her, if she stuck around a little longer.

              But her mind shifted in a second. Inspiration struck her, somehow, and she was off like a shot. She ran off to rescue her friend, slapping him with confusion on her way out. He couldn’t blame her. He would have done the same. If he suddenly thought of a way to rescue Gurjin, he’d have torn his own path all the way back to the castle in minutes and anyone unfortunate enough to be behind him would be choking on dust.

              As he rested against a tree trunk for the night, he tried to keep the dark memories at bay. He’d gained far too many in these last few days. They swam through his head, Mira’s murder, Gurjin’s capture, his father’s betrayal, his clan casting him out… He didn’t want them now. If he had to live a nightmare when he was awake, he at least wanted some peace while he slept. He searched his mind for some bright spot in his recent memory and found Deet, the one gelfling who showed him kindness since all this began.

It was only a few minutes, a fleeting moment, but it stuck in his mind. Deet, the kind, the gentle, even brave. If only she’d stayed a bit longer. Maybe she would listen to him, even dreamfast with him. Then he could help her break her friend out of the rascal hole and together they could… do something…

Didn’t she say she had a vision of a coming disaster? Maybe the two were connected. Maybe Thra itself was trying to alert all gelfling, trying to tell them something about the Skeksis. If that were the case, maybe their paths would cross again. And least, he hoped they would.

As sleep began to take him, eyelids too heavy to stay open and body too weary to go on, he thought of her and hoped her kind words would at least bring him a good dream.

[-]

As it turned out, he did see her again, but the reunion was anything but pleasant. And things were actually starting to look up, too.

He wandered into a podling village that night. At the very least, no one would recognize him there, even if he did stand out like a boat in the desert. The place was so alive that night. He’d never seen a podling village before. He only knew the podling who served the Skeksis in the castle, and even then only in passing. The creatures who worked in the castle mainly kept to their own kind and only mixed when necessary. Walking through town, he saw friends running off for a night of debauchery, parents trying to get their excitable children inside for bed, and some podling who maybe had too much to drink, but looked like they were having fun none the less.

He wandered into a tavern and was immediately carried into the joviality. Music filled the room and podling danced and drank without a care. The smell of food and brew wafted into his nose and nostalgia broke on him like an ocean wave. His mind traveled back to better times. As young guards in training, he and Gurjin would apply for leave at the same time, then travel to the closest tavern to drink and dance and flirt with the locals. After he started seeing Mira, she came along too. Their nights of revelry passed in a haze of laughter and warmth. So many great nights were spent this way. There was the time Gurjin started doing his best Ordon impression and literally would not stop until the next morning. Or the time Mira managed to pull him on stage to dance with the band despite his protests. They felt invincible then. They were on top of the world and the worst they had to fear was being reprimanded by their officers. How suddenly and horrifically things change.

In this little podling tavern, worries seemed so far away. One podling lady asked him to dance and another sent him a drink. He turned down both their advances and stayed on the sidelines, but watching the podling continue their party and enjoying themselves put a smile on his face. They were in their own little bubble of revelry and Rian found himself slipping in just a bit. He longed for a return of those days, but he couldn’t fully give into that desire, not with the truth he, alone, now carried. Still, for the moment, he just wanted to blend into the atmosphere of this joyous place and forget.

His moment of mild contentment was cut short when he was accosted by two gelfing, Gurjin’s sister Naia and her Spriton friend Kylan. He knew Naia somewhat from the few times Gurjin invited him to see his home in the Great Smerth and he knew she was fierce. She planned to trade him for Gurjin and he was sure she would be able to drag him back to the castle herself if he couldn’t convince her other wise.

Naia’s plans, however, were also cut short by a Vapran princess of all things. The two argued over who would be the one to turn him in and claim their recompense, Gurjin for Naia and justice for the princess. Rian managed to silence them both by showing them the remainder of Mira’s essence. They stopped and they listened. He could hardly believe it. He continued cautiously, sure at any moment they would stifle his warnings and he’d be back to running, or trying to. But that moment didn’t come. He offered to dreamfast. The Spriton was the first to accept. Then the princess. Finally, Naia agreed.

He showed them. He showed them all that happened: the spitter, Gurjin’s capture, and Mira’s murder. It was harder than he expected. It was one thing to remember, but another to watch it all happen again before his eyes. His hands itched to pull away and end these horrible visions, but he kept the connection. They had to know. Every gelfling had to see the truth of what the Skeksis were doing. Only then could they fight back.

When he opened his eyes again, tears soaked his cheeks. The others shed tears as well. Naia for her brother, the princess for her fallen subject, and Kylan for all gelfling. Then he turned his head to see his father, tears in his eyes as well. “Did you see?” he asked. His father nodded and fragile hope grew slowly in his heart, as if afraid it was not real.

“I’m sorry I didn’t believe you, son,” his father said, and the hope strengthened. His father reached out and hugged him, and Rian felt safe for the first time since this all began. He felt like a childling again. It brought forth memories of times long past, of his father helping him up when he fell or nursing cuts and scrapes. His father was not typically affectionate, especially not after Rian grew into an adult. He wanted Rian to be strong, though he had a soldier’s idea of what that meant. But this moment assured him that his father, despite his flaws, would be there to support him.

They did not have time to dwell on this moment. Within minutes, they formulated a plan and split off on their missions. Naia, Kylan, and Tavra went off to rescue Gerjin while Rian and Ordon traveled to Ha’rar to inform the All-Maudra of the skeksis corruption. He and his father moved swiftly through the wood, but it soon became apparent they were being pursued. A knife flew at them out of the dark and a skeksis, larger and more agile than any Rian knew at the castle, revealed itself.

They tried using their terrain to their advantage. They were smaller and more able to get though the brush, but it was a temporary stall at best. Once they got a moment to catch their breath, they tried an old trick. They split up to take it at two angles. Rian put himself in the open and let it follow him, but the skeksis proved to be even more dangerous than it looked. It moved through trees with the ease of water rushing down a river. Rian tried to keep his eyes on the creature while maintaining distance from its attacks, but it drew attention away from his terrain. A fall down a rocky hill landed him on the edge of a patch of gobbles. The essence flew form his belt, but he managed to save it at the last second.

The skeksis landed behind him. There was no where left to run. The skeksis drew its blade and Rian drew his. Rian took desperate slashes while the skeksis knocked him down with the sheer force of its swing. But Rian got back to his feet every time. Lessons from his father echoed in his mind as he fought. Get back up. Push yourself. Keep going. Harder, faster, smarter, stronger. He managed to lock the Skeksis blade with his own, but the gobbles snapped up at his heels. The Skeksis pushed him pushed him toward the hungry things, but Rian pushed back. Still the skeksis proved more than a match. Just when it seemed the gobbles would get a taste of his boot, his father jumped down from the sky and landed a blow on the skeksis’ skull.

His father landed beside him and they faced the beast side by side. They fought together, in sync with each other. Every lesson he ever learned fell into place. This is what he’d been preparing for all his life. His father knew the time may come when Rian needed to keep fighting beyond exhaustion, beyond fear, beyond insurmountable odds. That’s what he’s done this whole time. His father’s lessons kept him going all while he was a fugitive. They kept him alive and out of skeksis hands. Above all, his father taught him to fight for what’s right, and to keep fighting until the battle was won. Now, they would fight together.

But victory, tonight, was out of their reach. They locked blades with the skeksis again, but this time the skeksis knew pushing would get him nowhere. They dug their feet in and would not be moved. The Skeksis landed a kick to his father’s head and Rian was swept back with it. Blades flew out of their hands and disappeared in a haze of gobble teeth. Rian was blown back, but mostly unharmed. His father, however, was knocked out cold.

“Father!” Rian called as the skeksis approached, blades glistening against the moonlight, but he did not stir.

“Father!” he tried again. The skeksis hovered over them, blades poised to strike. Still, his father laid, barely moving.

“Father!” he cried one last time. The skeksis swung down and Rian stared up at the blade that was sure to be his end.

“Not! My! Son!” his father roared, leaping into the air. He knocked the skeksis off his feet and they fell together into the gobble patch. Both screamed as the gobbles devoured them bite by bite. Rian screamed as well; screams of horror and despair. He could do nothing. He was right there. He was a trained soldier, a castle guard. He was young and strong and agile. And yet, he could do nothing.

“Rian!” his father called with his last bit of strength. “Be brave, Rian.” It was the last thing he said before disappearing below the valley of snarling teeth.

“No! Father!” Rian stumbled to his feet and rushed forward, no plan in his mind. His only thought was of getting his father out, though he knew it was too late. It didn’t matter. If there was any chance of saving his father, the greedy things could have his life too.

“No, Rian! Stop!” a familiar voice begged. Arms grabbed him and pulled him back. “Stop, it’s too dangerous.”

He tore his eyes away to see Deet, clutching his arm. She was there. Suddenly, she was there. Why was she there? He barely knew who she was. Why should she be there for him? Was she simply that kind? That she rushed to help a near stranger? It was all so strange and confusing, but he didn’t have room in his mind to question it further.

Her podling friend was at his back, holding his other arm. Together, they sorrowfully watched the gobbles begin to settle. He heard the podling whisper “aminya” to her. He knew a little podling. Aminya meant friend, but in certain contexts could also mean “angel.” Maybe the podling was right. Maybe that’s exactly what she was. A friend and an angel all in one.

The gobbles went still and any last shred of hope he had died. Everything inside him was full to bursting. Sorrow, fear, grief, rage, guilt all mixed and stirred inside him, threatening to spill out. “He’s gone,” he said, finally. “He’s gone.” The words came out in a gasp. His voice had gone raspy and tears ran like rivers down his cheeks. It was time now. He was ready. He was going to break down right here, right now in the arms of a stranger. Everything raged inside him. He felt he could scream all night, or possibly the rest of his life. If he couldn’t scream, he would die. It was all too much for any gelfling to bare.

Then the gobbles stirred again. He looked up. A fool’s hope appeared in his chest. Father? But as soon as rumbling began below the surface, he knew it was not so. He didn’t have time to react, save to push Deet and the podling away, before he was snatched up by the skeksis.

“Rian!” Deet screamed, but the skeksis had already pulled him into the trees. Rian could only watch, a helpless captive, as Deet, his last hope, disappeared into the distance.