#if I missed anything/got something wrong or you have your own interpretations please do add on!

[kaeyacollection]

Hi, I don't play genshin but sometimes I like to lurk through other people's fandom to spice things a bit on my brain. Anyways, recently I saw some posts talking about some red moon eye-like god (? Something like that, having strong Naruto flashbacks here btw) and I was wondering:

(What with all the eyes?

I mean, visions look like eyes (and the name lol), the fallen nation's king had a single eye, Kaeya covers an eye, Furina has something weird in her pupil, that god is an eye.

That was really not the point tho.)

Is that eye god stuff the reason visions exist or celestia really said "oh, yes, lets give these tenacious mortals who have reasons to hate me a way to become stronger, there's no way this fires back at me"? Or is the eye god stuff Celestia? Or are all higher up gods just eyeballs? (Half joking with this one but that would be kinda fun) Though according to religious stuff, biblically accurate angels would look like eyeballs or something.

Anyways, I know you probably don't know the answer (since the game seems to be like an unfinished book with the real plot still unfolded), but I wanted to share the senseless questions in my head with someone and the chosen one (by my brain) is you (based on vibes).

Lmaoo hell yeah I passed the vibe check 💖💖💖

But you're right in that currently we're only working off of speculation for Visions

And oh boy did this become a long one lmao (tldr at the end ✨️)

The most popular theory back in the day was that Visions were the eyes of Celestia

Because as you said, they've also been given to people with reason to hate them, so this was a way to keep an EYE on them lmao

As we continued our journey we learned the archons would set aside a fraction of their power for those who hit certain marks in their life in order to be granted a vision - but they had no control over who got them or why

What finally challenged this theory is that Neuvillette, a dragon (that the ever composed Zhongli, ex archon, hid from), also set aside some of his power to be handed out as visions. Something that wouldn't seem to line up if they were actually harmful to the humans he's come to care for

And then we got his Friendship 6 Vision story:

"To continue to subdue and control the resentments and loathing of the world, the usurper and one who came after created the Gnoses together. So it came to be that an order was made to be upheld, and thus did humans come to only possess these seven remembrances ... From that day on, whenever a person's wishes reached the heavens, the seven overseers of the material realm were duty-bound to grant them a gift.

... And when one so gifted completed their duty... the gift the gods would receive in return would be more abundant still."

Neuvillette was also opposed to the fates/constellations before later caring for humans and allowing his own mark to be etched into the sky

"He did not initially care much about such, for the puppet strings glossed as "divine rules" would one day be burned away by the fires of judgment."

"And could it not be, he would explain, that King Nibelung had been wrong, and that the black void could only be opposed if all life were to band together as one? Thus did he, in the end, come into his own "fate." The skies had left a special, ennobled place for him, one reserved for the overseers and those who could defy the world itself — that of his own reflection."

Obtaining a Vision, and therefore a constellation, seems to represent a unity of goals instead. Not of a hatred for the Usurper but of an unbreakable will to keep pushing forward. A Will that when unified together, like in the fight against Ei, can become something more. It's easily why many Vision holders get theirs in dire situations, when faced with death they stand defiant against despair.

Perhaps when facing off against an all consuming void that threatens the world created by the Usurper, a darkness that would also threaten their very lives, these Wills will be at their strongest to push back the calamity, at least for a while longer.

To counter the despair of the world is to rise to your own judgment and demand to have a place in the world anyways... or at least that can be one interpretation 🤷

'Cause you see, the Narzissenkreuz Institute also brought up the belief that "one's own will is an obstacle, and that obtaining a Vision is a "guaranteed path to destruction." "

Whether a dramatic/poetic interpretation of giving up your Will to act as a battery for some anti-void machine, or much like Fontaine's prophecy, a twisted truth, it's not a line that should be disregarded so easily.

(Could also mean that having a will to stand in defiance would really fuck up their plan of everyone giving up their identities to seek shelter in the one water droplet during the end of the world. So "guaranteed destruction" in the belief that their plan was the only way to survive, and not that the visions themselves were the cause for the end)

So all in all, what we know about visions is that it's soft locked behind poetry and lines we don't have the full context for, and I suck at reading poetry (looking at you Fischl istg) ✨️

--

As for why eyes in general? Genshin takes inspiration from a LOT of mythos/stories/religions that ALSO have a thing for eyes

Like at this point I think they went through their own red string conspiracy of eyes throughout history and decided to compress it into a single story lmao

But man you just reminded me of the "Natsuhiboshi red eye" Naruto song I used to listen to a bunch lmao

[weareallstoriesintheend]

Hello! Is there any way you can do headcanons on AD characters helping a female friend who just got out of a toxic/abusive relationship? I recently just got out of one myself, but I totally, completely understand if you can't do it because of how triggering the topic is.

I’m so sorry this took me so long and thank you for trusting me with this. ❤

As someone who, up until very recently, used to work day in day out with people in/getting out of abusive relationships I want you to know this is a safe space.

Since I don’t know anything about you, nor do I need too, I have kept these as vague as possible whilst also trying to change up the story a little bit where I could. I hope at least one resonates with you. I went with small blurbs that vary in word-count to change it up in tone.

And if there is a character missing that you wanted or I'm completely off the mark please just let me know and I can add on, I just wrote the characters who are my usual Adam characters.

Sending you all the love and healing vibes 💕 Trigger Warning : Discussions of abusive relationships

Sackler

You’d asked Adam if it was ok for you to do something basic. You wanted some food in a place that you had once spent pretty much every waking moment, with one of your closest friends, that was until your ex-partner had come into your life.

It wasn’t the first time you’d done it and it probably wouldn’t be the last. It was a slip of the tongue; it had been a long time since you’d actually needed permission to simply exist. But the wounds still laid beneath the surface.

“You basically live here, what the fuck are you talking about? Go eat! You always do this and I tell you every time,” he blurted out, his tone tinged on amusement but you could tell he was put out by your question.

“Just habit I guess.”

The way he looked at you was a mixture of concern and confusion.

It just spilled out. The intense look he gave you, the silence of the room whilst he almost waited for further explanation. But it just… fell out. The years of control, the years of never being able to step foot without someone else calling the shots. You had never known how to dress, eat, who to talk too, where to go after work, without someone saying so.

All of it had made you a shell of a person, someone who had to rebuild themselves long after they should have learned to operate on their own. Someone who had to rebuild relationships, including your friendship with Sackler, whilst no one was any the wiser. The autonomy of being alive was suddenly new to you again.

He sighed, a few sounds stuttering out of his mouth before, “Fuuuuuck kid that’s…. daaaamn,”

You didn’t know how to interpret his tone; he was a hard one to read at times. Even when he was being serious his voice erred on the edge of sarcasm. Was he making fun of you or just shocked?

The first reaction that came to you was to shrug, you’d been passing it off for so long it felt like no big deal. Whenever anyone had asked you had lied, told them nothing was wrong and that your relationship was the best thing to ever happen to you.

You never turned up with bruises, that was what had convinced them you were ok. Cause how could you be being abused if there were no bruises, no evidence, nothing to show for your pain.

His hand rested on your arm, probably the most affectionate gesture you’d had out of him in a while. His thumb rubbed circles tentatively into your skin and you nodded, understanding his unspoken words.

“You’ll tell me if that happens again?” he asked quietly after a while.

You shook your head instantly, “It won’t ever, I’m not going back to that.”

“But…”

“…If it does, I will” you conceded, half-smiling to break the tension you felt. He smiled back, a curt nod was his response.

Charlie

Charlie’s face hardened to stone. You’d finally told him the truth about your ex-partner, finally explained all the lies he’d tried to call you out on so many times. He’d been nothing but a good friend to you in all the years you’d worked at the theatre and you didn’t want to keep it a secret anymore.

Your instinct told you he was angry, feeling like you’d seen that face too many times before. And too many times it had led to something you never want to experience again, for a split second your skin burned hot. You felt it creep up the back of your neck and flush your cheeks, your eyes remained wide as you silently begged him to say something.

“I’m sorry sweetheart,” he finally said, his voice cracking. Your eyebrows raised just a little, this was the first time you’d seen empathy on a mans face in a long time.

“Can I do anything?” he added hastily. You smiled, everyone had asked you that and you never felt like you had the right answer. So instead, you shook your head, reaching out to put a hand on his forearm, “A hug will do.”

You needed to feel safe in a man’s arms again, Charlie loomed over you in the most intimidating body you’d ever seen – hilariously and ironically far more intimidating than your Ex had ever physically been. Yet gentleness poured out of him, in complete opposite contrast to the vicious thorniness of your Ex.

For now, safety was all you needed. That was something your dear friend could provide.

Kylo

As you spoke, recounting the attack, you paced. Fiddling with your fingers as you stumbled, you’re your words, trying to get it all out as fast as you could. Kylo had asked about the bruises on your neck and face, knowing that you hadn’t been training in a while. You had dodged it but he was insistent, he knew. He just wanted to hear it from you.

Your pacing led you right to his feet but the intensity of his stare felt too familiar so you turned your back and walked the same path again.

You heard the rush of his saber igniting and you turned, his eyes flickered red in the light.

“Who?”

You shook your head, “It doesn’t matter.”

Through gritted teeth he repeated himself, “Who?”

You uttered a name, so quietly you hoped he hadn’t heard it. You heard the squeak of his boots as he turned towards the door behind him. The rush of it opening made you spin in place.

Your feet carried you after him, rushing along behind him trying not to get caught in the swirl of his cloak. You thought about begging him not too, that no one else needed to get hurt.

But then something clicked in your head, something sickening that struck you with delighted fear. You’d be free, you’d be safe. Months of pain would disappear and the person who dealt them out would get what they deserved.

Without consciously realizing it your feet stopped, letting Kylo get further and further away. ‘Let him go,’ a little voice in the back of your head said with a satisfied smile, ‘Let him handle it.’

Paterson

You’d sat him down, afraid one day it would all just come spilling out. It had been years and it was time, Paterson had been the only friend you’d had, one that was kept a secret from your partner. Friends wasn’t something you were allowed to have easily. Seeing as you only ever saw him when he came into the small-town bar you worked in it was easy to keep Paterson away from all that. He had been your solace when it all got too much.

One day he asked you why you never talked about your life, the bar was quiet with just you two and one old guy fast asleep in the back booth. So, you let the words come out, the whole story only really took you ten minutes to tell but it felt like an eternity.

Your eyes fixated on a small puddle of beer on the bar, you watched the light above you ripple in it as you talked.

When you looked up the brim of his eyes were lined with tears. You instantly felt like you needed to fix it, starting to mumble something about “… oh don’t worry about me” But then he took your hands in his, bringing them up to his face palms against his cheeks. He pressed soft but purposeful kisses against each, “Never again.”

Clyde

You were playing a drunken game one night after The Duck Tape had cleared out. A question came up about the worst thing that had ever happened to you.

Clyde regaled harsh and gruesome stories of war, but yours was much closer to home.

He didn’t say a word in response, dread surged through your stomach. He took two steps towards you before wrapping both arms around you. Your face smushed against the warmth of his chest made a surge relief dampen the fire of shame that boiled within you.

“I… don’t know how to respond t’ that,” You heard him mumble.

You laughed. You actually laughed, for the first time in months pure amusement filled your body. The sound felt a little alien, like a memory you had but didn’t know why.

You pulled back from him and he stared down at you, his face was often expressionless so that didn’t put you off. But you knew him well enough to know the slight extension of his pout was one of deep sympathy.

“Thank you, Clyde,” you said, stifling your giggles.

“’Fer what?”

“Just…. Thank you.”

[jyndor]

I just want to point something out that I noticed some people saying about who is going to live and die in episode 6, and it specifically has to do with Vel and Cinta.

Okay so this is part of the problem with not explicitly coming out and having these characters be clearly queer - yes I know it’s annoying to think that people might have missed the wlw of it all but tbh I watched the episode the first time on my android while I was getting ready for work and I missed Skeen saying they are sharing a blanket. So I literally didn’t realize that it was textual and not just me having sapphic goggles on all the time. When it comes to wlw, people just don’t acknowledge us at all. That’s why the meme of gals being pals rings so true: because we could be fucking our literal wives in our literal beds we share together, as wives, and people would still not get the point.

And then when you’ve got Cassian trying to flirt with Cinta, you’re gonna have people thinking that she’s into it because of her vague reaction (which I think is a reaction that could be interpreted either way - yay bi/pan rep lmfao). And then that brings us to the comments I saw some people make that I just want to not necessarily shout down but more push back on a bit.

The idea is that because both the women can’t live (lmfao what) or because nearly everyone is going to die to mirror Rogue One (which I think is more likely than just killing half the women just cause idk gender equality or something ~~~) Cinta is likely to be the survivor while Vel will die because Cinta is a potential love interest for Cassian.

adjasdhakdh okay. So first off no Vel is very unlikely to die. In the trailers, Vel is seen both talking with Mon Mothma and also on Ferrix, so unless those are flashbacks (which I doubt) Vel will live at least until Cassian ends up back on Ferrix and shit hits the fan there. I don’t think she’s going to die on Aldhani (also she and Cinta might not even be a part of the heist - they were off to do their own shady sapphic sniper rifle shit at the end of the episode).

But that’s not the point. I have been worried about Cinta since I met her because:

she’s a brown woman

she’s not in any footage beyond Aldhani in the trailer iirc (please correct me if im wrong) although that doesn’t mean anything really, trailers lie

she doesn’t do a whole lot of talking

Add into the mix her queerness which is canon (they are sharing a blanket, forget the other subtext and the stuff that could of course just be explained by my desperate need to see wlw on screen) and you get another reason for me to worry about her eating it in the next episode: the bury your gays trope.

Yeah obviously I’m scared for her. Historically characters like her have been seen as expendable. And just to be clear I saw some people on twitter being all “well people saying she’s definitely going to die must see her as expendable” and... no literally I think a lot of people know the history of brown and/or queer people in film and tv (as well as the fact that Gilroy basically said don’t get attached to any of these characters because the show is gonna be a bloodbath) and so we get anxious about characters like Cinta (and Bix and Tamaryn and honestly a lot of them because it’s a very well-cast, diverse show) and how they will be treated.

I saw someone say “well people should trust these writers because they’ve done so well so far” and to that I have to be like... WHAT? First, I’m not in the habit of trusting writers of anything to do that thing right, they need to earn that trust. Especially when we are dealing with a US media conglomerate that has flat-out stolen the stories and cultures of BIPOC and whitewashed them if not making outright colonialist propaganda with them. And forget the rest of Disney: Star Wars itself is built on a foundation of orientalism and cultural appropriation.

Second, I am not going to act like the woman lead Jyn Erso didn’t lose a lot of dialogue and interesting character stuff during the reshoots Gilroy did (while Cassian gained some thank god) that ended up making her seem quiet and more passive than she appeared in the trailers. And although Gilroy and his team have done a fantastic job so far, that this is someone who is known for focusing on the stories of morally grey men (mostly white USAmerican men so kudos for Cassian bro) and very much not on women/femmes, queer people and POC and Latines.

And most importantly, I’m not going to dismiss the fact that for whatever reason, they decided that Cassian couldn’t be from Fest (an ice planet) and had to be from a warmer, rainforest-looking planet like Kenari (if Diego influenced that okay fine I’ll allow it lmfao but otherwise... I’m side-eyeing the shit out of that decision), and that he had to be an indigenous person whose language is not subtitled for whatever reason even though like nearly every other language is translated (I can only think of Shyriiwook and Tusken both not being subtitled soo... I mean yeah there’s something to that criticism I’ve seen). And of course having Cassian be “taught” how to be a revolutionary by people in privilege is... a choice.

So when people say TRUST THE WRITERS TRUST THE GILROYS lol no. I trust that they will tell a compelling, mature and thoughtful story with good commentary on a lot of things but no, I do not trust white writers who focus on the stories of white men with brown queer women.

Having a queer woman in a relationship with another woman survive solely to be the love interest of a man is foul to me, a bisexual woman who wants more bi/pan representation on screen. Having a queer woman lose her partner and then fall for a man is one thing - having it be purely in the service of furthering that man’s story is another.

Especially because of this line in Rogue One: “You're not the only one who lost everything.”

Cassian is going to lose everyone who matters to him - maybe they won’t all die but somehow he will lose them as people in his life. I don’t want to see a queer woman, especially not a queer brown woman, lose her sapphic lover to move on to Cassian, and then to be killed off solely to cut all ties with the people he cares about or be so deeply hurt by him that she has to cut him out of her life.

I’m sorry I just think that’s gross.

People die in war and in revolutions - and having a diverse cast of revolutionaries means characters of color will die. Okay, but how will the show do it? How will the show amplify the stories of revolutionary POC/queer people/women without fridging and playing up marginalized people’s pain for shock value? There’s a fine line to it.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

All Nighter

Previous Parts: Extracurricular Teacher’s Pet

Warnings: noncon/rape; drinking/drunkenness; name calling;

This is a dark! fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Pairing: (Professor) Ransom Drysdale x Reader

Summary: Your academic worries are compounded by your personal dilemma.

Note: Yeah, yeah, yeah. I caved and we get a third part.

Hope you enjoy it. Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Halfway through the lesson, you excused yourself. As Ransom waited at the front and students scoured over an excerpt of Catcher in the Rye, he sent you another jarring message. It was time. 

You stood carefully, the skirt offering little coverage and knowing you were about to be even more exposed. You ducked down as you walked along the front row and disappeared through the door.

You went to the restroom and locked yourself in a stall. Your phone vibed again, still clutched tightly in your hand. ‘Show me.’ He demanded and even in font, the words made you shudder.

You sighed and held your phone out at an angle with one hand as you opened the camera. You directed the lense to your skirt and tugged it up until your purple panties were exposed. You shimmied as you slid them down on either side with your fingers and let them fall past the top of your stockings. You ended the recording and hit send before collecting your crumpled underwear.

You folded them and shoved them up your sleeve and locked your phone. You returned to the class, unnoticed, and sat in your seat with your head down. You bent back the cover of the book and tried to focus on the passage. You could hear Ransom as he rocked in the old office chair.

You peeked up at him as he held his phone up. His face was blank as he watched the screen. His finger tapped the phone and he nodded. He lowered his cell and his eye caught yours before you could shy away. He winked and cleared his throat.

“Alright, everyone, let’s start with a brief summary. Who wants to begin?” He stood and approached the podium again. “Go ahead.”

You blinked and realised he was pointing at you. You let out a prolonged uh and shuffled your book dumbly.

“Um, in this chapter, uh, Holden tells us about his neighbour, Jane, and um,” you squirmed a Ransom stared at you and you felt the attention of every other student in the lecture hall, “As the chapter progresses we learn that Holden has shared with her things, like Allie’s baseball glove, that he hasn’t with anyone else and in turn, eh, erm, Jane’s character disassembles and both Holden and the reader wonder after her alcoholic stepfather and even if he has… a-abused her. Holden prefers to think of her, however, as innocent, and accepts a not very convincing denial. Really, he hears what he wants to and goes on without a single--” You stopped as you began to ramble. “Yeah, that’s it.”

Ransom appeared amused and leaned on the podium. “Okay. Any other interpretations?”

He looked around and you deflated in your chair. You didn’t want to be here. You didn’t want to be talking about Jane and her vile stepfather, and you didn’t want your professor to keep looking between your legs. But just like Holden, Ransom couldn’t see anything but his own male ego. Anyone else was just a stepping stone in his grand American narrative.

🖊️

When class ended, you were as eager as any other to be gone. The two-hour block at seven in the evening was hardly anyone’s ideal, even if it was a weeknight. You slid your notebook away and the used edition of Salinger. You dropped the pens into the side pocket of your worn messenger bag and stood to watch your peers flood out of the classroom.

You wanted badly to be on your way and for an instant, you had a glimmer of hope that you might. But then you heard the deep breath and your name was called from behind you. 

“Just a minute,” he said with all pretense of deceiving any stragglers, “You seem to be missing a page from your assignment.”

You turned slowly and left your bag in the seat. You neared him and your nostrils flared as your gaze met his. It wasn’t even your paper he held. You swallowed back your reticence and pretended to look at the essay. 

“Oh, sorry.” You said as he peered over your shoulder.

“Go on,” he lowered his voice as the upper doors finally closed with a heavy clank. 

You cringed and reached up your sleeve and pulled out your panties. You let them fall onto the folder and he poked his fingers through the fabric and stretched them out. He hummed and rubbed the cotton between his fingers.

“You got anything sexier?” He snatched them up and shoved them in his pocket. “I thought you college girls were funner than that.”

You glared at him and crossed your eyes. “Right, is that everything?”

“Don’t,” he warned, “Sweetie, I don’t like that tone.” 

You huffed and rolled your eyes. He shuffled away his papers as you retreated to grab your own bag. You headed for the door as you unfolded your jacket from over your arm.

“Where are you going? I didn’t dismiss you.” He called from behind you. You turned back and stared at him.

“I have class in the morning.” You said.

“And?” He scoffed. “It’s only nine.”

You were quiet as he approached you. You wanted so badly to scream and hit him. He was a frat boy with tenure. He was as slimy and shady as every guy on campus and you had been deluded enough to think that age and title would change a spoiled brat with a silver spoon still lodged firmly in his mouth. Oh, the naive romanticism of a sophomore.

“Why are you doing this?” You asked.

He snickered and kept on as you backed away from him. He had you against the door as he slapped his hand above your shoulders and loomed over you. He leaned in as his other hand played with the bottom of your shirt.

“Because I can.” He purred, “And because I love the look in your eyes as I’m balls deep.”

“Ew,” you slapped his chest but he didn’t flinch. He merely grabbed your arm and spun you around as he pushed the door open behind you.

“Good thing you took those panties off,” he sneered, “You won’t be needing them.”

🖊️

You spent the car ride hunched against the passenger door, wishing you were anywhere else. Ransom let the radio fill the silence as he barely seemed to recall your presence. He steered with one hand, unbothered by the tension between you. As he pulled up to his house, its tall glass windows and geometric structure thrust you into a whirlwind of deja vu.

He killed the engine and rounded as you remained in your seat. You were too numb to do anything but sit there and stare at the house. You remembered patches of that night; stumbling up the walk, Ransom carrying you up stairs, his body against yours, the disorienting pain of his intrusion.

The door opened and you nearly fell out of the car. The seatbelt kept you from your descent and you unbuckled it as Ransom grabbed your arm and dragged you out into the crisp autumn evening. Your boots tapped melodically as he led you up the paved walk and you found it hard to think straight.

“Wait, wait,” you stopped as you reached the threshold, “No, Ransom, Professor… this is… wrong. You can’t--”

“For such a quiet little bitch you sure don’t shut the fuck up,” he snarled as he unlocked the door, one hand still on your arm. Your blood froze as you thought of your bag on the floor of the car, your phone buried in the side pocket. “Come on.”

“No, please,” you wriggled in his grasp, “You can’t keep doing this to me. I’ll… I’ll tell.”

“Not if I tell first,” he said coolly and bent to sling you over his shoulder. “Now let’s give you something to tell about.”

He pushed through the door and slapped your ass as he carried you inside. You kicked and writhed over his shoulder as he strode into the front room. The lights shone as they were triggered by some unseen sensor.  

He carried you to the modern sofa with its flat cushions and low back, and dropped you onto it gruffly. You bounced and bit your tongue painfully.

“Don’t make me tear those clothes off or you won’t have anything to wear in the morning,” he warned as he kicked off his leather boots and paced along the broad windows that formed the front wall of the room. He shrugged off his jacket and hung it on a rack in the corner and turned back to you. “Well…”

You bent to unzip your boots and shoved them aside. You heard a clink and looked over your shoulder. Ransom stood behind the small bar along the far wall and plunked a glass on top.

“Seem to loosen up with a few drinks in you,” he pulled out another tumblr and a bottle of dark whiskey. “This stuffs a lot better than that toilet water they serve in the club.”

You ignored him and stood to remove your jacket. You realised that there was no way out. You kept trying to convince yourself there was but that only made it worse. You hung your coat beside his as he watched you closely and gave a measured pour.

“Here,” he slid a glass across the bar. “Drink up, sweetie.”

“I’m not thirsty,” you ignored him and walked nervously back to the sofa. Was it better to have it done with?

“I don’t care what you want now get over here and drink,” he growled. “Or I’ll force it down that pretty little throat myself.”

You blanched and slowly crossed to the bar. You took the short glass and raised it, the alcohol made your nose tingle. He watched you as he drained his own tumbler. You tossed it back in three stinging gulps and coughed as you set the glass back on the bar. He chuckled and poured again, but didn’t add any to his empty glass.

“Again.” He ordered.

“Please, I can’t--” You waved your hand as you touched your raw throat. He stared at you and his jaw twitched. You pouted and lifted the glass again. You drank with tears in your eyes and gasped as you swigged it down. “There.” You choked as you planted the tumblr on the bar top. 

He reached over as if to pour some more and grinned as he hovered the bottle over your glass. He laughed and lowered it down onto its base instead. “Good girl.” He came out from behind the bar and neared you, drawing you away with him. “But you’re not naked yet.”

He thrust you ahead of him and you stumbled to the sofa. Your wits were buzzing from the whiskey and your empty stomach rolled. You hadn’t eaten since the early afternoon, right before your second lecture. You were wholly unprepared for the alcohol and the man before you.

You reached and tugged at the bottom of your turtleneck. You pulled it up and freed your head from it with a grunt. You dropped it onto the sofa and Ransom touched your shoulder where he’d bit you days before. It was still tender and made you wince. You unbuttoned your skirt and pushed the zipper down. It fell to your ankles without much effort.

Ransom’s hands went to your chest and he fondled your tits through your plain bra. He reached around you and unhooked it easily, yanking it down your arms and flinging it away. His fingers danced along your side and you hooked your thumb under the top of your stockings.

“Uh uh,” he tutted, “Keep those on.”

You retracted your hand and he gripped your shoulders. He pushed until you sat on the sofa and he backed away slightly. His tongue poked out as he took you in and he grinned. He pulled his knit sweater over his head and threw it on the floor. He made quick work of his undershirt and revealed his muscled torso. You squeezed your legs together and stared at your knees.

“We both know those college boys are nothing compared to me, sweetie,” he teased as you heard the buckle of his belt. “It’s okay, you can have a peek.”

You didn’t say anything as you listened to him strip. When he neared, you couldn’t bring yourself to look up. He grabbed your chin and forced your head up. His other hand moved below your vision as he stroked himself. 

“Get up,” he demanded and you stood with a sway. The whiskey stormed inside of you.

His hand fell to your arm and he dragged you away from the sofa. He directed you towards the tall windows and you shivered as you got closer. He stopped you before the glass and brought your hands up and planted them against the window. You felt the chill through it as he grasped your hips and drew your feet back. You stared out onto the drive, the street barely visible just beyond the curve, although you could see the lights of the neighbour’s house.

“What--”

“Shhh,” he tickled your spine and groped your ass roughly. “Stay just like that, sweetie.”

He slipped his hand down and kicked your feet apart. He felt along your folds and you shivered as his warmth contrasted against the cold seeping through the glass. Bumps rose along your skin as he poked around your entrance.

“Wet, already.” He tisked, “I thought you were a good girl.”

You shook your head and closed your eyes as he reached to your clit and rubbed it with two fingers. You gasped as he teased you and drew back to shove a finger inside you. He grabbed your shoulder as your back arched and stepped closer. He pulled his hand away and prodded you with his tip again.

“Professor…” You hissed.

His hand went to the back of your neck and he pushed your face against the glass as he slowly forced his tip inside of you. You groaned and turned so that your cheek rested against the cool window and he impaled you entirely. You slapped the glass and your fingers curled as he filled you.

“Ah,” you whined and he bucked so that your whole body quaked.

“Still so fucking tight,” he rocked against you as his thick breaths surrounded you. “You had me hard all night, sweetie. I could barely fucking stand straight.”

He tilted his hips into you as you were on tiptoes and your legs began to tremble beneath you. You clung to the glass, afraid you might collapse. He nuzzled your head and growled as sped up. You moaned without thinking as your walls clenched around him.

“That’s it,” he hummed and dropped his hand from your neck, trailing both along your chest and stomach. He hunched over you as he felt around the back of your thighs and panted into your hair. “You can play coy all you want but your cunt says it all.”

His hands stretched across your thighs and you exclaimed as he suddenly scooped you up. He bent your legs to your chest as he lifted you and your fingertips slid along the glass. He hooked his arms under your knees and opened you up as he hammered into you from below. 

He stepped closer to the window and you braced yourself against it as your reflection stared back at you. The inky dark was clouded by the glare of the light inside and revealed to you your shame. Your eyes drifted down and you saw how easily he slid in and out of you.

Your legs tensed around his arms and your breath hitched. You shut your eyes as your mouth fell open and felt your core bloom. You were close, so close, and you needed to cum. You didn’t care that it was him or that it was here; you had to.

You kept one hand on the window and snaked your other down to your cunt. You flicked circles around your clit as the sound of your flesh mingled with his. He crashed into you harder and harder and snarled into your neck.

“You fucking slut,” he rasped, “You touching yourself? Huh? You fucking like it.” He pulled your legs further apart until your hips rang with pain. “Bad girl.”

You spasmed and came with a squeak. You felt yourself dripping down his cock as the warmth leaked from you. You smacked your slick hand against the window again and bit down on your lip as he rutted into you with gristly grunts.

“Say it. You’re a bad girl.” He puffed.

“Wha--”

“Say it,” he slammed into you hard.

“I’m-- I’m a… bad… girl,” you choked out. “Oh, oh, I’m bad.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he said frantically and stilled you. He sniffed and held you on him. “Get…” His voice trailed off and he lifted you from him.

He lowered you swiftly and your legs wobbled dangerously beneath you. He grabbed the back of your neck and forced you to your knees. He brought you close as he stroked himself desperately.

“I’m gonna cum on your tits, sweetie,” he moaned, “I’m gonna--”

He grunted and strings of cum erupted from him as he angled his dick over you. His cum spurted over your chest and shoulders, even along your chin and cheek as his body shook and his fingers sank into your neck. He twitched as he slowed his hand and sighed as he let his cock bob freely before him.

“Mmm,” he let go of you and looked down at you with a smirk, “You look amazing covered in me.” 

He ran his hands over his chest and exhaled. You tried to stand and he caught your shoulder. “Crawl.” He ordered. “Get on the sofa and wait for me, sweetie.” He ran his finger through the cum along your cheek, “I won’t be long.”

🖊️

You woke in a fog. Your thighs, your hips, your cunt all ached. Your eyes fluttered open and you stared up at the pristine white ceiling. You were sprawled flat on the stiff sofa, alone. Your mouth was dry and your tongue tasted of flesh and alcohol. You groaned and sat up as your head reverberated. The sky outside was a dull grey and the clock above the door read just before seven. Fuck.

Your name floated in from the doorway at the other end of the room. You hung your head and stood. You took the throw draped over the back of the chair beside the couch and covered yourself. You neared the arch and peeked inside. Ransom poured a cup of coffee from a French press.

“You’re gonna be late if you don’t get your ass in gear,” he said smugly as he pushed the mug across the island.

You grumbled and crossed to the marble counter. You climbed up onto a tall stool and winced at the tenderness between your legs. The coffee smelled delicious as your stomach churned.

“Don’t worry, you can ride with me,” he taunted. “What time you done today?”

You frowned and took a boiling sip, barely noticing how the coffee seared your tongue. “Four… why?”

“Hmm, that’ll be a long day,” he said. “But not… too long.”

His cryptic words made you scowl and he left you without explanation. He returned with a pink box and his phone. He placed both on the counter. You watched him, confused, and he eased the lid off the box. Inside, was a silicon plug in hot pink. You shook your head.

“No.” You said firmly.

“It’s for your cunt, calm down,” he said.

“No,” you repeated and cradled your mug. “Ransom…”

“Professor. I think I prefer ‘professor’. It’s… proper.”

You snorted and rolled your eyes. He flicked his finger over his phone and it unlocked. He tapped and you leaned on your elbow. He pressed his finger against the centre of the circle that appeared and the box began to buzz as the plug vibrated. He dragged his finger around the circle and the toy intensified. You blinked.

“We’ll save that fun for class tomorrow night,” he licked his lip, “For now, you just need to… adjust.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, come on. You take me well enough.” He slithered. “Gotta have you ready… I have a break just after five. I expect you can hit pause on your studying for a visit.”

You were stunned. You set the cup down and rubbed your cheeks as you tried to process it all.

“You’re disgusting.” You sneered.

“Oh,” he closed the app and searched through his phone. He turned it to you and hit place, “So are you, sweetie.”

You squinted as you saw yourself against the glass, your tits bouncing as Ransom fucked you from behind, his own face hidden by the angle of the security camera. You swallowed and your hands went to your neck as your skin burned with humiliation.

“You…” you were speechless and tore your eyes way from his phone.

“I have a lot more than that,” he assured you as he spun the phone back to him and watched the footage with a leer, “Hurry up.” He locked the screen. “Or I’ll make sure we’re both late.”

[ninepentz]

Audio version of this post below

Uranus and mars were conjunct and both sextiling venus, which was representing jolissa (the asc) above in the chart where she was last seen on cctv.

If you have anything else to add or see something I don't please lmk.

HERE'S AN UPDATE!

One of my fav professional forensic astrologers who's found many missing persons before has just posted a video on Jolissa Fuentes showing us a map of where to look👇👇

Another thing to add that kristy the criminal astrologer mentioned is Venus is in cancer in the 12th right? Very close to the Sun and Asc, she said she might have been on her way home (Cancer) and had a car accident on the way there. Her car may be hidden (12th house) near her home in an open field.

Jolissa fuentes found!!!

UPDATE 10/10/2022: (click to zoom)

In the location right where it says trimmer is where she was found.. her car went off a cliff and into a area 250ft+ down.. between the mars and uranus line. The car was basically hidden underneath the trees and bushes... From that road there I can see how easy it is to get into an accident at that sharp turn.

She was found October 10th 2022 at around 1-6pm.

I looked up the chart of the day/exact time she was found and uranus was and is currently in retrograde at the EXACT degree that she had this accident (uranus wasn't in retrograde at that time)...isn't that crazy? I believe that this uranus retrograde is possibly what played a part in locating her bc it took us back to a time-even the investigator himself said these words "went back to the area that was one of the 1st places searched" so retrogrades have this way of bringing us back to the past so we can revisit, redo, gain new information from past events, it basically gives you a 2nd look or 2nd chance to make things right. Atleast that's my opinion anyway.

When reading a crime chart always pay attention to the aspects. What's aspecting the most important placements? Venus was very important here. The 2nd chart at 5:24am (top) shows the aftermath of the 1st one.. crazy.

At 1st look of jolissas chart before this case was swarmed with conspiracy theories, I was less confused. As you can see at the top before the updates, that was my initial interpretation of what could have happened. That's the thing about stuff like this or whatever the situation may be, always trust your 1st instinct. The most simple one bc when you allow other people's judgments to define your own you end up being very confused. For a while I had this post on private bc I was looking to other people for information since I couldn't confirm my own. They were saying she was in the open field by her house (bc there is many empty lots around) or possibly taken by someone, trafficked.. as more time passed it was like the crazier the theories got and I believed some of them. I didn't wanna say the wrong thing so that's why I privated. But now knowing what we know, I feel like more cases/investigators/searchers should try thinking outside of their own perception. Yes you may not be able to see off a cliff or imagine something happening but you just never know and you have to be bold enough to trust yourself when you have a strong gut feeling. Cut off all the noise, theories and stick to the facts + evidence only, that's the closest thing you can do to finding a missing person.

And focus on those who have experience too, Kristi the criminal astrologer helped me so much in this case. Very much an underrated astrologer

Aspects to note:

Saturn square mars, uranus and sun (transit). Saturn conjunct Jolissas sun, mars/uranus/sun square jolissas sun too.

Sun square mars and uranus (transit)

Venus inconjunct saturn and square pluto. (Transit)

To see the rest of my criminal astrology posts that get lost on my page, search and follow hashtag #forensicastrology 😊 <- (no spaces)

May you rest in peace, jolissa 💜 I heard great things about you, so sad you're gone..

✨Nine of Pentacles✨

[ptergwen]

hi val! i'm the one who sent in that peter annoying reader request. god that was such a good one i felt it 😂 can i ask for a part 2 for that?? maybe the reader somehow tells brad that she has a crush on peter so that was why she was so hurt he made fun of her, and brad helps her plotting against peter, it ends up peter being absolutely mad?? How it ends is up to you val! Thank you!!

gotcha

w/c: 1.4k

warnings: swearing and jealous peter hehe

a/n: here’s part one :,) i really like this concept so i ended up doin a oneshot

-

“ok, y/n. be honest,” brad prompts you, the two of you walking home from decathlon practice. “were you really crying because you didn’t remember the first president?” his lips pull into a knowing smirk. you bite a smile back and hold on to your backpack straps. “i mean, that’s part of it.” “say more,” he bumps your shoulder with his.

“i was crying because peter probably thinks i’m stupid now,” you admit, your grip tightening on your backpack. brad doesn’t try to cover up his scoff. “who cares what peter thinks?” squinting at him, you hit his arm lightly. “i do. he’s my friend.” “so am i. it shouldn’t be any different,” brad points out, clearly offended.

the sidewalk is empty except for you two, so you stop walking. brad does the same and makes a face at you. “right?” “no. i...” you take in a breath. you’re not looking forward to his reaction. “i like him. i like peter.” brad’s face goes from confused to terrified.

him and peter have hated each other for as long as you’ve known them. it’s why you keep him separate from the rest of your friends.

“he made you feel like crap, y/n! he’s a-“ “don’t call him a dick again,” you cut brad off and start to walk without him. he quickly catches up, his eyes still fixed on you. “i don’t get it. the dude pretty much says he’s better than you, and you like him,” brad tries to change your mind. too bad for him, you’re not easily persuaded.

“he was just playing around. he didn’t know i was actually upset, or he would’ve stopped,” you defend peter and your taste in guys. “we do that.” “y/n, please. you have so many other options,” brad all but begs, moving so he’s in front of you. he’s walking backwards now. you step past him and leave him behind you.

“no, brad. i’ve liked him for a while already,” the hurt is evident in your voice. you didn’t expect him to be happy about this, but jeez. could he show some support? brad picks up on your mood change and feels bad about it. unlike peter, he has self awareness. “i’m... sorry. are you gonna, like, tell him?” he asks with a nervous smile.

you smile back, yours wicked. “sort of. that’s where you come in.”

-

the next day at school, peter looks for you first thing. everyone is at your locker. everyone including brad. whatever, that’s not important right now. his main focus is on telling you how awful he feels about yesterday.

mj notices him walk up first, so she takes a step back to open the circle. she presses her lips together and clears her throat. that gets ned’s attention. ned realizes peter is here and offers an awkward smile. peter nods at him and turns to you. his eyes are already pleading.

the smile that was just on your face fades out. “oh,” is all you murmur out, then add, “hi.” “hi,” peter drags the word out. he glances over at brad. he’s standing too close to you for peter’s liking. squeezing his eyes shut, they land on you when he opens them.

“listen, y/n. i’m so sorry about everything i said. i didn’t realize i was the only one laughing,” peter tells you, every word sounding genuine. ned looks between the two of you sadly. “there’s.... there’s no excuse,” he keeps going. your features soften from the look of guilt on his face.

mj nods at you as a way of saying to let him finish. she would never let shit like this slide, so you know peter has to mean it.

“and i don’t think any less of you. it was a mistake,” peter’s eyes drop down to the floor. “i’ve said the wrong answer before, too.” those words heal what the ones from yesterday broke. you’re fully ready to forgive him now. “thank you. that made me feel a lot better,” you give peter a small smile.

“we’re good,” you assure him, peter now sporting a grin of his own. that is, until brad throws an arm around your shoulders. he’d almost forgotten he was there. you lean back against his chest as he presses a kiss to the top of your head.

huh?

the rest of the group gets into a conversation about what you should do over the weekend. guess that means brad will be there. peter doesn’t hear a single word because he’s too busy staring at you. you’re cuddling in the middle of the hallway with the only person on earth he completely hates.

brad is right on time whenever he messes up. the one time it’s with you and now he’s, what, your boyfriend? it’s not fair.

you’d drafted a plan with brad last night to get this exact response. you convinced him to fake date you. peter would hopefully get jealous, which he did, and that would prove if he likes you or not. it’s also good payback for making you cry over abraham lincoln.

brad didn’t want to do it at first because anything that ends with you dating peter, he refused to be part of. you brought up the fact that he would get to piss him off all day. then, he fell in love with the idea.

-

you stay attached to brad’s side all day. holding hands when you walk from class to class, sitting close to him at lunch. he’s never joined your group for lunch before. plus, you normally sit next to peter. he has to sit next to betty today. she talks a lot.

part of peter thought you liked him. he has other friends who are girls, and he doesn’t act the same with them. is your banter not flirting? did he interpret everything wrong? apparently he did because now you’re kissing brad’s cheek while he sips his orange juice.

that’s it for him. he gets up from the bench without any explanation and takes off, not bothering to bring his stuff. you pull away from brad and frown.

“i think it worked,” he comments, casually wiping his cheek with the back of his hand. ned and mj share a look. “you’re aren’t... dating?” she points at you and brad, which you shut down. “no, we’re fake dating. i like peter.” “oh, shit. you do? he likes you too!” ned blurts out. betty’s eyes grow the size of her whole face.

“how did i miss this? you guys don’t tell me anything!” she scolds you all and grabs your hand. “you have to go after him.” you look over at brad, who gives you a nod of approval. he’ll learn to hate peter a little less for you. “i am,” you decide and quickly slip out from the table. everyone shouts good luck wishes after you.

-

you find peter in a stairway on the second floor. he takes it to get to his next class, so you thought to come here. he’s sitting on the staircase with his arm on the railing. his head is leaning on his arm. he looks completely defeated. you might have broken his heart instead of made him jealous.

peter lifts his head when he sees you coming up the stairs. you wordlessly sit down next to him. clearing your throat, you get ready to say something. he talks first.

“i thought you and brad were just friends,” peter states with no emotion behind it. your heart starts thumping in your chest. “we are.” he licks his lips out of habit. “doesn’t look like it.” “i asked him to fake date me, peter,” you admit and search for his eyes, turning to face him on the stair. his eyebrows furrow. “what?”

“i wanted to make you jealous. i didn’t know you’d end up like... this,” you gesture to the mopey state he’s in. peter shakes his head in disbelief. “can we go back to the first part? you wanted to make me jealous?” a smile spreads across your face. “yeah.”

your lips suddenly land on his cheek, leaving both of them pink. he touches where you kissed him and grins. “if that didn’t make it clear, i like you,” you laugh out and scoot back from him. “i like you, too,” peter takes your hand before you go too far. he laces your fingers together.

“ned already told me.” you squeeze his hand and he lets out a breath. “i can’t even be mad at him.”

peter has a pretty great best friend. you do, too. you actually got brad to help you pull this whole thing off. he might not be so bad after all.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Snap Part 1

Read on Ao3 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Inspired in part by the lovely @random-snippets‘s post here

Warnings: roman angst and everything that goes with it. self-esteem issues, self-hatred, insecurity. sympathetic everyone

Pairings: roceit, platonic DLAMPR

Word Count: 5540

Most things in life are flexible to some degree. You can push and pull and bend them in certain ways and, to some extent, they will comply with you. There are some things that you can bend and bend and bend. Creativity is one of these things. Creativity, imagination, dreams...they can be shaped and changed into whatever you want.

Bend...and bend...and bend...until they snap.

Janus enjoys teasing.

He finds that it often reveals true intentions much better than simply taking someone at their word. Plus, the range of reactions he gets is endlessly amusing.

Patton will stutter and stammer adorably, or he’ll put on his Dad Voice™ and attempt to scold. Logan, depending on what sort of mood he’s in, will sass him back or give him a death glare. Virgil definitely isn’t the type to snipe back, keeping up with Janus blow for blow. Remus is…Remus.

But Roman…Roman is different.

Roman used to be the most fun to tease, puffing himself up in a fit of righteous princely indignation to defend himself, going red in the face only to be set off again moments later. Janus could spend hours just tilting his head this way and that as Roman muttered himself in and out of circles and paradoxes and contradictions. It used to be quite an effective way to shut the prince up, letting him stew in his own thoughts.

It’s still an effective way to silence Roman, but it’s changed.

It started after the wedding.

Roman had shut himself away in his room, much to the chagrin of the others. They expected a temper tantrum, they expected sulking. Logan and Patton were constantly on standby for the minute Thomas would start being affected by it.

They didn’t expect Roman to emerge a few days later and quietly ask to talk to each of them.

He apologized.

A proper apology; for mocking his name, for calling him evil, for dismissing him out of hand. Janus can only guess by the looks of pleasant confusion mirrored on the other Sides’s faces that they received similar apologies.

Janus hadn’t been surprised when Roman extended a nervous offer of having him and Remus come around to their side of the Mindscape more often, saying that they had…valuable insights to offer. He hadn’t been surprised to see Roman extend the olive branch to Remus, only for Remus to promptly snatch it up and hug his brother so tightly Janus winced in sympathy for Roman’s ribs.

Patton, as was to be expected, was overjoyed, throwing his arms around the princely side in what could only be described as euphoria. Logan had been surprised, saying he hadn’t expected Roman’s surprising amount of maturity regarding the issue, including the way Roman had promised to listen to him more often. Virgil had shrugged, saying it was about time Roman started doing that anyway.

He hadn’t thought anything of it, not really. And it had been pleasant, being listened to. Not being treated like a villain.

He should’ve known it wasn’t going to be only a few days for Roman to completely change his black-and-white view of the world.

Roman listened more, that was true, but he didn’t talk as much either. He stood quietly, occasionally asking softly for clarification.

“…L-Logan?”

Logan pauses mid-sentence, glancing over at Roman. Roman sits there, twisting his fingers together.

“Yes?”

“Can you…slow down a little bit?”

Logan blinks. He’d been talking about recent discoveries made in the field of quantum physics, just getting to the part about how SUSY particles could reconcile the different interpretations of the expansions of the universe. Roman had been the only one who volunteered to listen, and he half-expected Roman to dismiss the topic entirely or say he had some important thing to go to. He had not been expecting this.

Roman did not seem to interpret his silence in this way.

“It’s just,” he stammers frantically, “it’s not that I’m not interested, I am, I can assure you, I’m just…I’m having trouble keeping up with you.”

He balls his hands up tightly in his lap, staring at Logan with a frantic sense of urgency.

“It’s okay if you can’t or you don’t want to, y-you’re not boring me, I promise, and I don’t want you to stop, but can you please try and talk a little slower? I don’t…I don’t want to miss anything,” he trails off.

“It’s…it’s quite alright, Roman,” Logan says carefully, “I’m happy to slow down.”

Roman’s face breaks into a relieved smile. “Okay, thank you, I don’t know what’s going on with me today.” He taps the side of his head with a self-deprecating smile. “Not all here, it seems. Sorry, Specs.”

“You needn’t apologize, you haven’t done anything wrong.” Logan adjusts his glasses. “I would be more than happy to slow down. Are you quite sure I’m not boring you?”

“Absolutely not.”

Logan smiles. “…good.”

“C-can I say what I’ve gotten so far,” Roman asks hesitantly, “and then you can correct me where I’m wrong and then jump back in when we get there?”

“Of course.”

Roman had Remus share almost as many ideas as he did, but he didn’t share his own as much either.

“Roman? Do you have anything to add?”

Roman shakes his head, a small smile on his lips as he watches Remus bounce excitedly on the balls of his feet.

“I believe we have a solid idea,” he says, gently elbowing Remus, “and there is nothing I can do to improve it.”

“You know, Ro-Bro,” Remus says, shoving Roman back, “you’ve gotten so much less boring.”

Roman chuckles lightly, picking himself up off the wall. “I’m glad you’re happy.”

“Oh, I am!” Remus claps his hands. “But are you sure we can’t build in the part about—“

“We are not unearthing a roadkill corpse, Remus.”

Roman didn’t puff up when he was teased anymore, but he didn’t defend himself in any other way as much either.

“Could you be more extra,” Virgil sighs, nudging Roman, “really, Princey?”

Roman pauses, before slowly lowering his hands. “I am, aren’t I?”

Virgil’s eyes widen. “Guys! Guys, I got Roman to admit that he’s extra!”

“You did what?” Remus vaults over the couch. “You did it!”

“That is in fact a marvelous breakthrough,” Logan says, drinking his coffee, “especially for Roman.”

“Good to see you’re finally developing some self-awareness, kiddo,” Patton says with a wink, patting Roman on the shoulder.

Janus smirks, shifting in his chair. “Yes, because Roman’s observational skills have always been at the forefront.”

“Alright, alright,” Roman says finally, waving his hand, “I’m extra, I get it.”

It took far too long for them to realize that just because Roman’s behavior had changed, it didn’t mean he wasn’t still struggling with the ramifications of it. It took them far too long to realize that Roman still clung to the ideas of heroes and villains, the roles had just shifted. It took them far too long to realize that the ego, still hiding its black and blue skin, was still living in fear, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

It took Janus far too long to realize he wasn’t doing his job.

“Oh, come now, I’m only teasing.”

“And that’s supposed to make everything better, is it?”

Janus pauses, the sharpness in Roman’s voice killing the follow-up in his throat. His eyes don’t widen at how Roman looks at him. For the first time in a long time, Roman’s gaze is filled with fire as he stares at Janus. It gives him pause for a moment. Just a moment. Then his smirk is back.

Good. You were starting to get boring.

“You realize that saying you’re teasing doesn’t make it hurt any less, right?”

“Oh, sweetie, there’s really no need to get so worked up—“

“Don’t pretend that your intention has not been to make me uncomfortable.”

“Then why’re you letting it get to you so?”

“…so if Remus tries to knock me out with his morningstar, I shouldn’t get hurt because it’s his intention to hurt me?”

Janus blinks. This is absolutely the direction he thought Roman was going to go. “That’s not quite the same thing.”

“So I shouldn’t prioritize emotional and mental pain the same way as physical pain?”

“…I didn’t say that—“

“Oh, I’m sorry, is it frustrating to have your words taken out of context and applied in ways you obviously didn’t mean? Wow, I wonder what that feels like.”

Janus’s surprise is hidden quickly as Roman takes a deep breath in. He expects Roman to bite back, to push, to hurl acid-laced insults at him. Given how Roman has been taking most of…this lying down as of late, he expects it, even if he would be a little...disappointed. In some way, he doesn’t deserve it.

That’s exactly what happens.

“…I understand that you care and you help in your own way. And I’m grateful for it, really, I am. You…you make people look at themselves—really look and you make me think and it’s great but it’s exhausting.”

Roman buries his face in his hands, pressing his fingertips hard to his eyes. It doesn’t hurt to see him so…tired.

“I can’t—I can’t do this all the time. I can’t do this most of the time. You know that. As a matter of fact, it wouldn’t surprise me if that were the point.”

“…I do have a point.”

“You always have a point. That’s the problem. You are nothing but points, there’s nothing to you but—“

Roman stops, taking a deep breath and pressing his forehead with a fist.

“No, sorry, that’s…that’s not true. The version of you that you choose to present to me and to the others most of the time is nothing but points. There is no softness. No give. Not an ounce. It’s always a fight. I have to…double and triple check every single thing that comes out of your mouth, and I’m not…I…”

Another deep breath. Something softens.

“I respect you. I admire you. I like you. But I don’t know what you want from me.”

Janus isn’t shocked.

Not just at the fact that Roman is expressing all of this out loud, not just at what Roman is saying, but how the bitter taste slowly filling his mouth isn’t coming from any of it.

Roman isn’t lying. Not about this.

What happened in those days when you shut yourself away?

It takes him a moment to realize Roman is waiting for an answer.

“I don’t want you hurt.”

Roman huffs. No malice behind it, just exhaustion. “You enjoy putting me in situations that actively make me uncomfortable and you have enjoyed hurting me in the past. Try again.”

There’s a moment of silence. Then Roman sighs.

“Look, I don’t think I’m in the right space for this conversation and the last thing I want to do is mess this up any more than I already have, can we…can we do this later?”

He nods slowly, even though it takes him back to hear Roman ask for something. It doesn’t sting a little to know he isn’t the one that’s made it easier for him to do so.

“Thank you, I—you...you know I care about you, right?”

Not many things can take him by surprise, not many things can make him more surprised than this conversation already has, but this…this earnest confession, this does. He nods.

“Good.”

They don’t speak for days. They don’t even see each other for days. Then Roman has an episode.

The others are away, helping Thomas. Roman is alone. He rides the attack to its end but he’s still trying to recover. This one was bad. He needs to get up, he needs to eat, he needs to drink, he needs to but he knows if he stresses out too much about this, he’s just going to send himself into another attack. He’s trying to breathe but it’s hard. It’s so hard.

Janus wasn’t even looking for him. And yet there he is, sprawled on the floor, hunched over, hands trembling as he struggles to breathe. For a moment he worries at how much he can feel that Roman’s afraid. Afraid of Janus. Janus…he hasn’t exactly shown him his…full capabilities.

And, in his defense, really, Roman is so clever, so sweet, so open that he can’t help but play with him, test him, poke at his comfort zone just enough to see him squirm. And Roman is lovely, truly, he is. And yes, part of him was thrilled when Roman finally snapped at him, but he’s right. Janus is…he has not been good to him.

Time to change that.

He approaches slowly, crouching, and offering a hand. The suspicious look that he gets doesn’t hurt his chest. He does blame him. But Roman trusts, he trusts too easily sometimes and this wouldn’t be the first time Janus has ever taken advantage of it. He tries to convey that he won’t break it when Roman takes his hand. He tries not to think about how much of this is Roman going along with it if only to prevent himself from being hurt.

He leads Roman to one of the common spaces on the Dark Sides’ hallway. It’s almost never used anymore, not since the barrier between Light and Dark started breaking down. He looks at Roman to see such an unsure expression that he can’t help the soft noise when he guides him to sit on the couch.

Janus keeps Roman in the corner of his vision as he carefully shrugs off his cloak. He considers draping it over Roman’s shoulders but decides that might be a bit too much. Too much for right now, even as his mouth starts to taste bitter.

What does he want? Roman can’t stop thinking it. He’s three seconds away from another attack, what’s happening, what’s going on, I don’t know what to do—

A gentle hand cups his chin and he distantly thanks whatever higher power there may be that Janus’s gloves aren’t a bad texture. But then he has to make eye contact and oh it’s the worst. He doesn’t know what’s keeping this fragile peace. He knows Janus will see through any mask he tries to put on right now.  

But not wearing a mask…he’s not sure he remembers how to do that.

He tries.

I’m trying, I’m trying so hard, can’t you see? Can’t you see that if you just tell me, I’ll be good? Whatever you want, I can do it, I promise, I’ll be good, I can be good, but I can’t do it if I don’t know what you want and if you tell me I’ll do it, just tell me what you want me to do, I can’t figure it out, I want to be good, but I don’t—I can’t—what do you want?

Janus sees. He sees all of it and it doesn’t break his heart.

He lets Roman go, the ache getting worse when he immediately shuts his eyes. He crouches, waiting.

When Roman opens his eyes again, he tries to offer. What do you want? Let me help, if you want?

Too much, perhaps. So he tries smaller.

Roman’s unsure when he offers his hand again. He…Janus doesn’t like being touched. But would he really be offering if he wasn’t okay with it?

Janus smiles when Roman reaches a trembling hand out. Slowly, carefully, he takes it in two of his, playing with it gently. Running his fingers over the back, tracing the knuckles. Roman’s hand is so much more...worn than the others. There are calluses, scars, so many stories that Janus can’t help exploring, smiling a little when the light touch makes Roman twitch. Even here, Roman’s scared of doing something wrong. His fingers tremble, try and move to match the shapes he makes.

Keeping Roman’s hand in his, Janus stands, tugging in a gentle ask for Roman to come with him. Roman stands up too fast and a second pair of arms shoots out to steady him. He looks so small…smaller still when Janus sits them down on another couch, between his legs.

Stay with me, Roman.

Playing with his hand again gets his attention, the second pair of arms holding Roman close. He waits. Waits to gently tug that hand a little closer. Roman shuffles. His phone tumbles out of his pocket and Janus catches it with his third pair of arms, setting it carefully on the table.

He lays back, all six arms accounted for. Waits.

Is something you want?

Roman looks so apprehensive, reaching out with his other hand. He folds Roman in gently, letting him move at his own pace, easing his weight down on top of Janus like they’re afraid of hurting him. As soon as he’s all the way down, still propping himself up to keep the weight off of Janus, Janus embraces Roman tightly, smiling a little at the way he instantly goes limp, exhaling sharply. Part of him takes a little selfish pleasure at having Roman in his arms; he’s so warm, he’s just the right weight, he fits so perfectly. But he’s still so tense, poor thing…

Just as he did with his hand, he explores gently. He lightly traces up and down Roman’s sides, wiggles his fingers as he runs them along Roman’s spine. Smirks a little when he feels Roman’s muscles tense and shift as he squirms under the gentle attention. Sweet little thing is ticklish too, hmm?

Like Roman, he doesn’t want to risk breaking this moment with too much noise, but he has to really fight the urge to coo and fuss when he starts scratching his hands through Roman’s hair. Roman whines for him, completely involuntarily, and it’s so small and tired and hopeful and adorable that he can’t help seeing if he can make him do it again. He can.

They have no idea how long they lie there but an alarm on Roman’s phone breaks the silence. Janus barely glances at the label—‘stop and get back to work’—as he shuts it off. He laments its intrusive presence as Roman startles horribly, scrambling up. And he can’t help himself, he catches him.

Roman should get back. He should do so many things but Janus is being so kind and he’s not too warm and Roman has no idea how he’ll react and what if they never get this chance again and he’s holding him so gently and the way he’s looking at him…

Is this something you want?

Janus lets out a soft oof when Roman throws himself at him, wrapping his arms around him so tightly he’s sure it hurts. But it’s the thing he wanted and the thing Roman wants and it’s perfect.

He clings to Roman just as tightly until his own arms ache from it. Still, he holds on, until Roman slumps, burying his warm face into his scales without hesitation. Roman’s breathing stutters, he’s still so scared...so Janus softens, gentles his grip, goes back to the soothing touches from before. Tries to lull Roman back into that half-doze they were in before. It takes a long time, much longer than he’d like. Roman keeps jerking himself awake, his fists clenching and unclenching, unsure where to put his head, where to put his arms.

He breaks finally when his fingers hit a sensitive spot on Roman’s back and Roman gasps, Janus instinctively holding Roman closer and smoothing the hair away from his ear.

“Shh…shh…” One pair of his arms come up to hold Roman’s hands. “Shh… shh…”

I want you to calm down, Roman, that’s all I want right now. Shh…

It takes several minutes of careful shushing to get Roman to relax, several more before his breathing evens out and he dozes, right there in his arms.

They still need to talk. Roman’s carrying so much grief with him that, now that he’s looking, he can see the strain. Roman is so tired, he can feel it. And he desperately wants to know what happened to turn Roman into this frightened creature, constantly bracing for a blow, so confused in the face of any affection. But for now…

He’s self-preservation, protection when protection is needed most. Of course he can be caring.

He leaves Roman in Patton’s care, giving them the space they need to make sure he doesn’t push. Not now, perhaps not ever. He receives a gentle thank-you when they happen to pass in the corridor. And it’s…good. There’s a sweet aftertaste in his mouth when he talks for a few days.

A few days later, his mouth tastes horribly bitter again and he knows it’s time. He appears to see Roman sitting ramrod straight, staring at the wall.

“…well, you certainly look as calm as can be.”

“Oh. Hi, Janus.”

“Hello. What seems to be troubling you?”

“Oh, you don’t need to worry. I’m alright.”

The lie tastes sour. “May I join you?”

Roman nods.

“Thank you.”

“Did you need something?”

“Are you…in a proper enough headspace to have that conversation?”

“…yes. Yeah, I think so.”

He can’t quite taste another lie. This is probably what Virgil means when he says it’s important to trust people about their own boundaries.

“I have a proposition for you. I would like you to hear me out before commenting.”

“Of course.”

“…you lie quite often.” Roman nods. “You are not of the opinion that lying is inherently wrong.”

Roman shakes his head nervously.

“You use lying as a defense mechanism to protect yourself, don’t you?”

A new wave of bitterness.

“…do not be afraid,” he says quietly, “it’s quite common.”

Roman’s brow furrows a little.

“Your first response to any question that causes a heightened emotional response is usually a lie,” he explains, “because your instinct to protect yourself kicks in and forces you to say what you think the asker wants to hear.”

Roman’s mouth tightens.

“It also coincides with the need to make yourself as small as possible. If you…do not require many things, or if you do not actively contribute to things that require any extra effort, odds are you will not be hurt.” Janus tilts his head. “I believe Virgil calls it ‘being low maintenance.’”

Roman huffs a laugh and looks away.

“Does that sound about right?”

“…mhm.”

Janus fiddles with the cuffs of his jacket almost absentmindedly. Roman has developed a…particular style of dishonesty that intrigues him.

Roman is very open about vulnerable topics; speaking freely and without hesitation about how he feels about his looks, his mannerisms, his sexuality, pretty much every aspect of themselves that the Sides can think to ask about. But that’s not the same as actually being vulnerable. It’s hiding behind too much honesty, taking advantage of the fact that others don’t tend to talk about those types of topics in that much detail to let them mistake it for actual vulnerability. But it’s not. It’s just a different type of hiding.

It’s not a lie. Not even a lie of omission. Which means it’s harder for Janus to detect. Even harder for the others. So it’s easier for them to believe Roman is more honest than they are. Which let him get away with lying, let him get away with sacrificing his own needs, let him get away with hurting himself.

The pitch is the easiest part, Janus decides. Definitely.

“Virgil and I have an arrangement of sorts,” he opens with finally. “Logan helped us figure it out. If…one of us receives an answer they believe is untruthful, a second chance is offered.”

“A…what?”

“If I ask Virgil a question, or if Virgil asks me a question, and we don’t believe the answer we receive to be true, we say: ‘second chance.’ Then we have another chance to answer. There are never any consequences for lying, or choosing to take the second chance.”

“…so…”

“So if I were to ask you what’s troubling you—“

“It’s fine,” Roman says quickly, “really, it is.”

Janus gives him a small, sad smile. No, no it isn’t, but this will serve as a good point.

“Second chance?”

Roman’s mask slips. It’s a good mask. Right up there with Patton, and Logan, if he’s being evaluative. Perhaps even up there with his own. But it’s cracking.

“You know it’s unwise to try and lie to me, dear,” he pushes.

Ah. Too much. Fear swells up behind Roman’s eyes and he stammers.

“…I…”

“If you do not wish to tell me,” he soothes, “I will not force you too.”

“Then I would rather not say,” Roman says carefully, each word laid down for Janus’s inspection.

“And there are no consequences.”

The wave of pure relief that washes over Roman is enough to make Janus smile properly. There’s a horrible moment where he looks like he doesn’t believe it, he’s waiting for the punchline, but then it doesn’t come and Roman just slumps, a massive weight rolling off his shoulders. Janus can’t help but watch the corner of his mouth tick up higher and higher as he realizes it’s okay.

“Well, judging by that expression,” he says, “this certainly will be awful for you.”

Another thing about Roman is that for some reason, probably tied to his connection to the Imagination, is that he has this…field around him. Janus is sure Logan’s not interested in it at all and they haven’t spend hours upon hours talking about it. But he can feel the wave of care and love and relief that hits him, making his heart ache pleasantly in his chest.

It’s gone far too quickly and Janus isn’t saddened by it, his brow furrowing when Roman fidgets with his hands, obviously trying to work up the nerve to ask something.

“…why…when you said this was common,” he says eventually, “what did you mean?”

Ah. This won’t be difficult at all.

“The…sophistication of your coping mechanism indicates that it has been developed over a long period of time,” he starts.

“…okay?”

“Not uncommon in victims of abuse.”

“What…what are you talking about,” Roman stammers, obviously trying to laugh it off, “I—I haven’t been abused.”

Oh.

Oh, that’s…oh, Roman��

“We have ridiculed you for expressing vulnerability,” Janus murmurs, “we have ignored you when you express deep feelings. Sometimes, when you attempt to speak about them, we tell you that your feelings are not worthy of your reaction, or we are indifferent.”

Janus shifts, letting his regret bleed into his voice as he continues.

“We have manipulated you to get what we want. We have used shame to make you feel bad.” Janus clenches his fists in his lap. “We have led you to believe things are your fault when they aren’t. We have pushed you to question your sanity.”

There’s an awful silence.

“We’ve been gaslighting you, Roman,” Janus murmurs, “and worse. Tell me, what does that sound like to you?”

Any semblance of relief from earlier vanishes, replaced by denial, worry, panic, and so much anxiety for a moment Janus worries Virgil’s going to be summoned.

Then his mouth fills with an acrid taste, coating his tongue so much it almost chokes him.

“…I’m sure you know that I’m summoned by continuous lying.” Why I appeared in the first place.

Poor Roman barely hears him enough to nod.

“I know what the lies are when I hear them.”

Another nod.

“Which means,” he murmurs, reaching out and gently touching Roman’s temple with two fingers, “…I can hear these.”

Roman freezes.

“There. That.” Janus’s eyes widen. “Oh, oh no, sweetie, I’m not here to be cruel to you.”

Roman doesn’t hear him.

“Breathe, honey, come on…in for four, hold for seven, out for eight.”

Roman’s not breathing at all. Janus leans forward to try and help when Roman’s mouth opens, his voice sharp and determined.

“When people lie,” he says, “does it hurt you?”

“What?”

“Does it hurt you?”

He knows what Roman’s asking and he adores it, of course he does. He adores that Roman’s so worried about hurting him, not himself, Janus, that he’s willing to punish himself by forcing away a defense mechanism that he’s had for years because it might be hurting Janus. He loves it.

“…no. Not a direct correlation,” he says, “no. More often than not, I can tell or sense what the truth would be and…that is not often pleasant. But no, Roman, you are not physically injuring me when you lie.”

“And what about when you’re telling the truth?”

“…sweetie, stop. You’re going to hurt yourself far more that you’re going to hurt me.”

Roman’s face pinches as he looks away, so determined that it looks completely painless. It doesn’t hurt.

“Would you like a hug?”

“N-no, no, I’m fine.” Roman’s hands don’t shake. He doesn’t hunch around himself protectively.

“Second chance?”

“…please?”

“Come here.”

He’s warm, but not warm enough. His aura is relieved, but not relieved enough. He’s still, but not still enough.

The bitter taste in Janus’ mouth isn’t horrendously painful.

“No, sweetie, you’re not being inconvenient.”

You have hidden this so well, so well we never realized how much this hurts you.

“I’m not angry with you for trying to protect yourself.”

I will be the first to admit that I have…not acquitted myself well from the things I have done to you, please let me try now.

“You’re not hurting me.”

Don’t deny yourself comfort, especially when you need it so badly.

“And no, sweetie, I don’t hate being touched as much you think I do.” Janus does find it easy to cry, he does get overwhelmed easily. And yet the lies he can hear right now threaten to make tears spill over. “…must you be so cruel to yourself?”

“…sorry?”

Ah, yes, apologies. That’s a conversation for another time. Janus sighs, running a hand through Roman’s hair. “At any rate, it’s not like you’re nice and warm and much better suited than the others.”

Finally, the bitterness recedes, just a little. Janus swallows, washing away the last vestiges on his tongue, cuddling Roman closer. He looks down, seeing his mouth open and close. Laying a finger gently against his lips, he shushes Roman as he tries to speak.

“Hush, you don’t have to say anything, sweetie. I understand.”

“Okay,” Roman huffs, “I will say the whole…mind-reading thing is not ideal.”

Fair enough. “I am only paying attention right now because you seem to be having some difficulty speaking,” he murmurs, chucking him gently under his chin, “I will not be all the time.”

“Okay.”

“Or you could simply…not lie to yourself.”

“Unrealistic.”

It makes him laugh a little. “Something to work on, no?”

Roman nods, gently head-butting Janus’ hand. He smiles, cupping Roman’s chin, idly tapping his fingers. The smile grows when Roman closes his eyes, tipping his head back so Janus can scritch lightly.

“Perhaps it will help you with these,” Janus murmurs, lightly stroking his fingers over the shadowy bruises just below Roman’s collar, “hmm?”

“…Thomas, huh?”

Janus raises an eyebrow when Thomas summons him. “Well, this is entirely expected.”

“I need your help.”

“Then this can’t be serious at all.”

“It’s about Roman.”

Janus pinches off the rest of his sarcasm. “Tell me.”

“I, uh, I made a…discovery,” Thomas says, “about…things.”

“How remarkably descriptive.”

“You know the phrase ‘bruised ego?’”

Janus stiffens at Thomas’s words. “…I am familiar.”

“…turns out it’s a lot more literal than I thought.”

Oh.

Oh, no.

It’s Janus’s job to protect the ego.

What…what has he done?

“He doesn’t care for you at all, sweetie.”

Roman opens his eyes, peering up at him with poorly disguised hope.

“Neither, for that matter,” he continues, running a thumb over Roman’s jaw, “do the others. Virgil, for one, despises you for being able to make him feel so wonderfully safe.

“Patton thinks the absolute worst of you—“ he pats Roman’s cheek— “and the care that you give so freely to others.

“Remus, well, he of course doesn’t value you at all,” he drawls as he tucks a loose piece of hair behind Roman’s ear, “let alone your willingness to touch and interact with him as he’s so used to that.

“And Logan would definitely prefer it if you were to never be so clever and considerate ever again,” he finishes, stroking his thumb across his forehead.

“I don’t think,” Roman murmurs, “that I’ve ever been so glad to be pretty fluent in sarcasm.”

“Yes, your sarcasm is absolutely awful.”

“Yes, I know, I love you too.”

He expects a familiar bitterness to wash over his tongue. It doesn’t.

Oh.

Oh.

“You don’t have to say it,” Roman mumbles, almost about to doze off in his arms, “you don’t have to say anything. It’s just…it’s there if you want it.”

“I definitely won’t take it,” he says as he presses their foreheads together, “and you definitely can’t fall asleep right here.”

There needs to be another conversation. He needs to know what happened after the wedding. He needs to know how, or perhaps more accurately, why Roman changed in the span of only a few days. He needs to know how Roman got so good at pretending.

He tries not to think about how much worse he’s made it.

…he also would like to know exactly what Roman meant when he said he loved him.

[silvanable]

Hello! I really like your writing so im here with a request! Lilia, Leona and Riddle with stressed s/o. S/o avoid them and dont want boys to see s/o so weak and pathetic. Thank you for your hard work! <3

hi darling! i’m happy that you like my writing, it really helps me continue knowing that people enjoy what i write despite how chaotic and inconsistent i can be~

i intended to write this before finals but i missed that window for me at least oops.

this was the perfect request for this, especially since i know a lot of people are still facing finals as we wrap up the remainder of the year! thank the stars we’re almost done with this fucked up year!

↪  GUIDELINES

— LEONA KINGSCHOLAR

when it comes to avoiding leona because of stress, he doesn’t always catch on super quick that something is wrong.

really he sees it as his s/o needing space, just like him, and he doesn’t go out of his way to check up on them for a while.

this is especially true if his darling is female, as well all know leona drinks his ‘respects women juice’, so he’s more inclined to give her space.

in any other case, he still believes in giving them space but after a while he will start to pick up on something being wrong.

he starts to notice a pattern with how his darling avoids him in the hall, will see him on the path and turn around, or how they dodge him when he tries to corner them.

the flighty behavior pisses him off the most, because now he cant nap in peace without tossing and turning with them on his mind and what he did to make them avoid him.

would take it the hardest out of everyone at nrc, with his inferiority complex, not being good enough, and all.

would also be the most aggressive on confrontation— not that he would physically hurt them but he might grab their arm just a little too rough or push them against the wall harder than necessary.

he’ll be towering over his s/o as he snarls out a, “am i not good enough for you anymore?”

a mixture of reactions can come from this but the most apparent one, with the building stress of everything, is just for them to start crying.

leona is struck by their tears so abruptly he might actually take a step back, because out of all the things he expected as a response, their broken expression and tears is not one of them.

his darling will be blabbering out apologizes and how they didn’t mean to, how they just didn’t want him to see them like this, and how crowley has been stressing them out and all the trouble with grim and classes as the year began to wrap up was just too much.

all while they are blubbering on, leona is uncertain on how to respond or even really console them.

it’s a moment of softness leona will display as he grabs their hands and pulls them away from their face, offering a hesitant shush.

“you’re ridiculous, herbivore,” he’ll mutter out as he brushes their tears with his thumb, “you could have come to me.”

sure leona would never have been one to offer his help out so willing but this was for them and if they needed help controlling that ungrateful furball, he would help and make ruggie babysit grim.

and he’s not above chewing out the headmaster to get him of his darling’s ass and give them a breather.

“i didn’t want you to think i was weak—”

definitely feels guilt after hearing that, because everything his s/o did was to avoid him because they thought he would think lesser of them.

would tell them to shut up with a grumble and drag them off to the botanical, because obviously they need a break and he needs a nap.

— LILIA VANROUGE

lilia is, out of everyone, the one to catch the shift in his s/o mood the easiest and quickest. something he picked up being alive for so long.

with that lilia is also the one to let them have your space for a time to let them try and sort it out on their own— but the moment he sees how hard they’re struggling he takes a different approach.

lilia confronts you about it but is especially mild, asking if there has been something to upset you and where he was the cause, because he certainly wants to correct his actions if he did do something.

it makes them feel so much more guilt, especially because they should have known that lilia would notice something.

telling him is an effort— it’s no secret that he’s far older than his youthful appearances leads others to believe.

and something as simple as school stress??

it was laughable and pathetic in their eyes when they thought about it in comparison to lilia’s long life...

he coaxes it gently from them nonetheless and finally when they give in, they can barely make it through a sentence without bursting into tears.

it breaks the old fae’s heart to see you come unravelled like that and it hurts even more knowing that you somehow got the impression he wouldn’t care or found it pathetic.

and all the while his darling is staring at the floor, gasping and stuttering between sobs, trying to stop their tears only to cry further

“ah, ah—” he clicks his tongue, gathering up his s/o’s face in his hands so they look at him. his expression uncharacteristically gentle.

“if it was so much trouble, dear, you could have come to me for help,” he reassures them, “i might be old but i think i can manage to learn a few more things if it helps you.”

will crack a lopsided smile at them, stroking the tears from their face with his thumb.

has a lingering feeling of guilt, which is new for him, that they somehow got such a backwards interpretation of him and how much he cares for them.

makes it a point afterwards to remind them from time to time that they can rely on him whenever they need— he’s here for them and wants to support and help them if they’re ever struggling.

— RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS

riddle’s strict persona and being such a stickler for rules makes him often far more intense and unapproachable than he actually is.

it’s only worse for his s/o because they’re struggling with classes and keeping up— learning materials absolutely foreign to them and to top it off, the stress of having been thrusted into an entirely new and somewhat terrifying environment.

but of course after learning about the harsh environment riddle grew up in, they feel guilty over being so stressed when they’re probably just not paying attention or dedicating enough time to studying.

since his overblot, riddle has tried to be mellower and more understanding, patient even, but that does not ease the panic in his s/o.

it gets to the point where they are actively avoiding him.

at first it passes him by, but the following days he starts to notice how jumpy his darling is when they see him and how suddenly they’ve completely removed themselves from his presence.

it only finally pushes him to a point to chase them when after classes, he calls out their name when he sees them in the halls and they immediately dart in the other direction.

he literally has to chase them around the whole campus before finally tiring them out and cornering them.

now he’s more than a little hurt and definitely upset.

he’s ready to go off on them when they just burst into tears and crumbled to the floor.

so much for not appearing pathetic...

all and anything riddle was going to say or scold them with flies out the window and he’s suddenly frantic and on his knees hesitant to touch his darling.

“what’s wrong? are you okay? are you hurt?” questions are pouring from his mouth and his mind ins swimming that something is terribly wrong and suddenly he’s worrying if he was the cause of you getting hurt chasing you.

when his s/o finally manages to catch their breath, even as little hiccups between sobs, they’re apologizing and wiping their face with their hands trying to say that they’re fine, “it’s fine, it’s okay.”

he’s immediately shutting that talk down with a, “you are not fine, please talk to me,” he’s begging because he’s worried now.

there’s a silence that settles in between him and his darling as they suddenly find the ground between their legs very interesting...

riddle is surprisingly quiet the whole time, patient uncharacteristically so, and his hands are still hovering out in the open as he’s still deciding whether touch them is okay.

then his s/o speaks up in a small how everything about this world, not knowing if they’ll ever get back home, school, and pretty much anything that has bothered them since waking up in twisted wonderland falls from their lips in a rushed and in a quiet whisper at the end, add how they didn’t want to appear weak and pathetic to him...

finally riddle makes a move, awkwardly, but he moved and pulled his s/o forward into his arms— quick enough it startles them to stiffen up.

will feel endlessly guilty that his darling thought he would think so little of them and their problems, worse that they felt the need to bottle it up and run from him.

he’ll try to be a little sensitive to their needs, offering to study with them to help them understand since he’s got great marks in his classes, and constantly trying to find little ways to show them he really, really does care.

[vampiric-daydreams]

Inkling

Jasper x Reader

This is Part 2 of the Jasper miniseries. Here is Part 1.

Summary: After the negative events of the last few weeks, Alice offers an explanation that just doesn’t seem to add up. You believe there is more to the mysterious family that meets the eye.

Word Count: 2,540

Tags: @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @eggmettcullen @scuzmunkie @xcharlottemikaelsonx @oi-itsemily @cacti-succulents-andlesbians @aw0kenangel

A/N: There’s less Jasper in this chapter because a few things needed to happen in this part to keep the ball rolling. As the series progresses, the prerogatives of the Cullens will make more sense.

*

The buzzing chatter surrounding you broke the silence as you sat alone in a local café. It had been raining all day, and the people of Forks sought the solace of a sweet hot chocolate. You shifted in discomfort. Your socks were moist with dirty water you’d collected from splashing through a large puddle on your way in; and the pouring rain made your sleeves cling to your arms. You sat shivering at a corner table, goose bumps scattered across your exposed skin. The welcoming scent of coffee beans comforted you as you waited for your own hot drink to arrive.

A glare from a boy studying on the table beside you caused you to stop fidgeting with the sugar stick between your fingers. “Can you stop tapping?” he asked.

“Sorry,” you mumbled. You put the stick of sugar back in its place and took a deep, steady breath. You rarely met strangers, but lately you’ve been in a weird head space. An anonymous note in your locker had brought you here, requesting a meeting.

“Here you go,” the waitress said as she placed your scalding drink in front of you, the steam swirling from its surface. “And sorry for the wait. It’s always crazy here on these stormy days.”

“Thank you.” You weren’t in the mood for small talk right now. On top of this mystery meeting, you had gotten nowhere with the Cullen stuff. Everything had gone back to normal at school. No glares. No staring. No interacting of any kind. So, when Alice Cullen herself strutted through the door and straight towards you, the shock nearly knocked you over.

Her heeled boots clicked on the wooden floor. Stylishly dressed in an all-black ensemble with a trendy overcoat and a navy-blue scarf; her designer bag hung lavishly from the back of her chair as she slid into her place across from you. She smiled. “Thank you for coming, (Y/N).”

“What- seriously?” It came out louder than you intended, and the boy at the neighbouring table glared at you a second time. You whispered harshly, “I thought you guys were happy pretending I didn’t exist. Or do you have a new assumption to harass me about?”

Alice’s perfectly arched eyebrows formed a frown. “Actually, I came to apologise for our behaviour. Can I buy you a toasted sandwich or something?”

You scoffed. “A toasted sandwich won’t change my mind. What the hell was all of that? Actually, no. Never mind. I’ve been banned from talking to any of you, so I should leave.” Without letting it cool, you sculled your drink. The heat burned your throat as you tried not to wince. You couldn’t make a fool of yourself in front of a Cullen. Not again. You grabbed your phone and your keys and pushed your chair back.

“(Y/N), please. You deserve an explanation for everything.”

“Damn right I do!”

“Please sit and give me a chance to give you that. You’re welcome to leave, but please at least let me start?”

You plopped back down in your chair like a grumpy child and slouched. “Fine. Start.”

“Jasper was the first to notice. He noticed not long after the school year had started, but he mentioned nothing to us. Not that he needed to, he had no intentions - no offence.” You rolled your eyes. She swallowed. “But when Edward saw the way you looked at Jasper, he put it together. He’s gifted at reading people, and he felt you were getting too attached–”

“That was no-one’s assessment to make.” Your tongue still burned from your drink.

Alice nodded. “You’re right. It wasn’t. But Edward sees things in people… Often his own opinions and ideals surrounding certain topics will cloud his judgement. He mentioned his interpretation to Emmett in passing, who repeated it to Rosalie with different details. By the time I’d heard any of it, it sounded like you were plotting to separate us, which was why I was upset. I’m sorry, (Y/N). If I had known you had no intentions of actually breaking us up, I would have made them stop. No, I should have made them stop regardless of what I thought. Being a family for so long, we’re protective of each other. But I shouldn’t have let it reach the point that it did.”

The sugar stick once again found its way to your fingers as you stared at the girl in front of you. “Why are you telling me this?” It just didn’t sound right, despite Alice’s insistence. 

“Because I’ve seen how hurt you were by it, and I don’t want you to hurt yourself or believe you’re not worthy of receiving love. We behaved like a bunch of callous bullies. We’re sorry and so is Jasper.” A hard prick stabbed at your chest.

“It’s whatever. There isn’t anything we can do about it now. What’s done is done, right?”

“Jasper wanted to come and apologise to you in person, but he was afraid. He’s quite empathetic, which is why he couldn’t bear to talk to you yet. Even Edward-”

Edward. “He was right, in a way. While I had no intention to do something that would hurt you or make Jasper leave you, I certainly thought about what it would be like if he was mine. It just seems like a big jump to make.” Alice’s brown eyes twitched as they widened. “He assumed I thought about something and then launched into action against me–and you say he’s good at reading people? It just all seems a little weird.”

“Yes, our parents had a word with Edward about jumping to conclusions like that. He just didn’t want to see me get hurt. Jasper in particular feels terrible about how he handled everything.” You feigned interest as she tried to deflect your attention with Jasper’s name. “He thought reminding you of his love for me would make you change your mind about him, and when that didn’t work his first instinct was to shut you out. This should be coming from him, not me, but please understand that he regrets how his behaviour translated. And (Y/N), we all want to apologise to you. You’re allowed to talk to us, you know. We don’t bite. And the others are too ashamed to speak to you themselves without being approached first. Will you give us a chance to make it right?”

If you were ever getting a shot at finding out what they were hiding, this was it. 

You smiled sweetly, “I’d prefer it much better if we did that.”

Alice returned your smile, her kohl-lined eyes lighting up. “Remember, there’s no rush. After what happened, you don’t owe us anything. Take as long as you need.”

You nodded your head. “I will.”

 *

 For the first time in weeks, you arrived at school with a smile and something to look forward to. From the moment you entered the campus, you took the precaution to not actively think about your intention to dig deeper. It still seemed ridiculous, and you were sure you’d be cringing at yourself later on–but the circumstances were just too weird to you.

You spent the better half of the morning surrounded by your friend group, not ready to branch out and find the Cullens just yet. If they were as sorry as Alice had made them sound, they could stew in it for a while longer. You had already planned which order you intended to approach them in, too. Emmett would be first, as he seemed the least threatening. Next was Rosalie, and lastly Edward, who was the root cause of all of this.

You weren’t ready to go anywhere near Jasper.

The bell rang, and your group said their goodbyes as they went to their lockers. You fumbled with the combination lock on yours and gritted your teeth when it wouldn’t open. “Pretty sure the code hasn’t changed since yesterday,” a deep voice sounded from your right. Emmett. This was wrong; it was supposed to be you approaching them.

“Well I’ve had a rough few weeks.” You shot back. His wide smile faltered for a moment before shrinking away.

“I’m sorry about my contribution to that.” He spoke softer than usual. His eyes were the same warm gold as Jasper’s. Were they biologically related? Wait. No thoughts on campus.

“Yeah, the entire thing really sucked for me.”

“I didn’t want you to feel the way you did. I knew it wasn’t right. That excuses nothing, but I don’t want any bad blood between us. I’m really not that kind of guy.” His expression seemed genuine.

“You could have fooled me.” It came out before you could stop it. “Wait, no. Emmett I’m sorry, that wasn’t fair-”

“No, I get it.”

“No, you don’t. You did nothing. You didn’t even glare. I can’t be this mad at you.”

“I did nothing. That’s the problem. I let it blow out of proportion and by the time it got there, I couldn’t reign it back in. Alice gave you an idea of what happened, right? If I had kept my mouth shut after speaking with Edward, none of this would have happened.”

“If you had relayed the correct details and factored in Edward’s theatrics, none of this would have happened.” Rosalie appeared what seemed like out of thin air. You were sure you hadn’t seen her hovering nearby. Her warm brown eyes met your nervous gaze. You hadn’t been ready for any Cullens yet. “I’m sorry, too. You did nothing to warrant that reaction from us. I’m sorry for allowing myself to jump to those sorts of conclusions before you had even decided anything.”

If you had blinked, you would have missed Emmett nudging Rosalie with his elbow. No thoughts on campus. At least one storm was ending. Rosalie’s welcoming smile was not a sight you’d ever thought you’d see; and it was a clear sign that the discomfort would be over soon. But there were things - subtle things that didn’t always add up.

“I guess we’re cool then,” you said. You looked up at the couple properly. Although they didn’t compare to Jasper, they were both so attractive it was frustrating. It was the first time you’d seen them up close. Rosalie had the healthiest-looking flaxen hair you’d ever seen; and they both had such amazing skin. Neither of them had a single blemish to show. In fact, you recalled that Alice had pretty flawless skin as well—and Jasper’s complexion always looked so perfect. It was as if it blessed their entire family—which was even stranger because… Stop, just in case.

They were both smiling. Emmett reached out his hand for you to shake. “Yeah, we’re cool.”

“Thank you for letting us apologise,” said Rosalie, as the last bell rang and the hallway emptied. It wasn’t like they’d given you much of a choice.

 *

 Jasper had done nothing specifically to attract your attention. All he did was stroll over to his locker. But even just walking, the way he carried himself, how almost seemed to glide, never failed to knock the wind out of you. You caught his attention though, by staring, and he immediately looked at you. His bored expression suddenly drenched in regret. The negative feelings from the last few weeks consumed you; the humiliation, how repulsive you felt you were to him. There was an empty feeling in your chest, and as his apologetic amber eyes beckoned you over to him. Your legs moved before you could stop them.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk yet,” Jasper pulled a small piece of paper out of his pocket. “But if you change your mind, call me?”

You clenched the paper tightly as it transferred from his fingers to yours, and your heart fluttered. Your mind went blank as you tried to respond. Open-mouthed and wide-eyed, you resembled a fish. Quickly, you turned away from him and walked back in the direction you came from. Your cheeks were burning as you continued to walk; thankful as you rounded the corner for not stumbling, but less enthused to see another Cullen in front of you. Alice. Again.

You knew it would continue to hurt you if you compared yourself to her; but she just looked so damn good all the time. If any of the Cullens were devastatingly beautiful, it was Alice - with emphasis on ‘devastating’. And the worst part of it was how nice she was trying to be to you. It was easier to soldier on when you could pretend she didn’t exist.

“Hey, (Y/N)!” She smiled kindly, eyebrows raised. You looked at her forehead, her skin didn’t wrinkle. It never did. She must have had some work done.

“S-Sorry, Alice,” you stammered, “I’m in a hurry.”

You picked up pace and rushed by her, taking refuge in the bathroom. She didn’t follow. You let out a sigh. You had come close to thinking again. You still scoffed at the idea that they could read minds or something, but you continued to guard your thoughts, anyway; and when you saw Alice’s eyes, one nearly slipped out. They were definitely much lighter yesterday, like chocolate - you were sure of it. Just then, they looked almost black.

It was driving you crazy. Tears began forming, but you refused to let them fall. Not over this. Not over something you were imagining. Jasper’s eyes flashed in your mind. That rich golden colour… When you’d first started liking him, you recalled Googling if his eyes were even possible and learning they were, but that they were rare; and for Emmett to share them as well was strange.

You bolted out of the bathroom and grabbed a random student passing by. She jolted from the shock of it. “Which of the Cullens are biologically related?” You sounded so aggressive, but you couldn’t stop yourself.

She chewed her bubble gum a few times and gave you a dumbfounded look before frowning at you. “Jasper and Rosalie Hale, obviously. What the hell is wrong with you?” She jerked her arm out of your grasp and shot daggers at you.

Unrelated, both with a scarce eye-colour. They seem to know what you’re thinking. They all look the same; pallid and tired-looking, yet alluring. You couldn’t stop yourself from going over the details.

You sprinted out into the parking lot, nearly knocking a guy down the stairs on your way. Before you could restrain yourself, you’d pulled a pen and a notebook out from your backpack and your hand began writing.

Wednesday. Alice, brown. 

Thursday. Alice, black. Rosalie, brown. Emmett, gold. Jasper, gold. 

[autisticcassandracain]

The original plan for the Mirage thing was for Kory to react reasonably and not blame Dick at all, and leading to their successful marriage. However, behind the scenes interference nixed that plan, and orders were given that Dick and Kory were to be broken up instead, leading to that whole mess

Do you happen to have a source on that? Not that I don't believe you because it would make a LOT of sense, it's just that if there's anything I've learned from being in the DC comics fandom it's that there's a lot of unsourced 'common knowledge' going around that's just plain wrong and I'd like to avoid falling for that. again. bc I've done it before (a lot. I am very gullible) and it's embarrassing.

But even if they had to break them up due to editorial demands I feel like they could've done that in way better and way more natural ways. Disclaimer that I don't like dickkory to begin with so my opinion may be biased, but there's way better angles you could've taken for a break up plot than the massacre of Kori's character that happened now.

I skimmed the break up plotline last night (I'm not finishing this comic because there's only so much bad writing my brain can handle, but I'd like to know the basics on what happens to Donna and Kori in it), and the thing that really got me is that they flirted with actual solid reasons for why Dick and Kori might be better off broken up but then consistently wrapped it in so much bad writing I can barely even give them credit for it. Instead of that weird contrived plotline with Mirage and Sexy Evil Raven that happened now, you could've simply had a B-plot of Dick and Kori's relationship slowly falling apart.

Their relationship was already quite rocky; while they clearly love each other very much, their personalities are quite different and that frequently leads to conflicts. We've seen that mostly with Dick lashing out at Kori when he has his own personal issues going on, and Kori blaming herself for it, and Kori wanting to be closer to Dick while Dick doesn't feel ready to make that kind of commitment. You could've easily extrapolated reasons to break up from these semi-frequent issues.

anyway this got long so there's an example of what you could do with this plotline under the cut

For example, we know that Dick always wears disguises when dating with Kori, and had to move out of her apartment to protect his identity. Kori values openness, and it wouldn't have been OOC for her to become unsatisfied with the secrecy surrounding their relationship. She likely wouldn't feel like she has the right to pressure Dick to out his secret identity (because she doesn't), and since there's no easy way around it otherwise, I can imagine it putting a strain on her.

You can couple this with the fact that Dick has attempted to restrict Kori in many ways; it's even directly acknowledged by Dick himself that he's tried to change Kori rather than taking her as she is, and that this was a mistake. (For the record, I don't think this would be impossible to work through, or that it means Dick doesn't love her, but we're talking break up plotline here.) By contrast, Kori has always tried her absolute best to be understanding and accommodating to Dick, and even though she is pushy sometimes, Dick has stated/implied this is something he actually appreciates. The break up plotline in canon already mentioned that Kori has always lived for others, and now wants to explore what she wants for herself. You can expand on this by having Kori become dissatisfied with the effort she puts into accommodating Dick vs. the seeming lack of effort he puts in.

The catalyst for this can absolutely be the Mirage plotline. The thing is, I don't think it's unreasonable or OOC for Kori to be upset about the fact that nobody noticed she was missing. It's not that anyone did anything wrong, but it's got to hurt, being tied up in a basement for days, only to finally break out and find out nobody noticed you were gone. Even with a reasonable Kori who recognizes that this isn't Dick's fault, I think it'd be completely understandable if she was still upset.

This could be interesting to explore because Kori, as a rule, lives by her emotions, but she's also spent enough time on Earth that she's learned the value of logical reasoning, and why you sometimes need to put your feelings second. In this case, logical reasoning says she shouldn't be upset, but emotionally, she still feels that way. This conflict could be a good catalyst for getting her to re-examine how exactly she wants to live, and how her relationships contribute to that. Particularly, she could take a closer look at her and Dick's relationship and come to the conclusion that while they clearly love each other, it's somewhat unbalanced, and might not actually be what she needs. The reason Kori has pushed through all this before is because she loves Dick, and that's all that matters to her, but with her taking a new look at the benefits of rationally examining your emotions, she might start doubting a little.

This could also tie back in to a line Donna said way back when Dick and Kori first got together that kind of lives in my head rent free but never got expanded upon. Namely, right after Dick and Kori get together, Dick's personal troubles start boiling over and he takes it out by being kind of a bitch to Kori. Donna and Kori have a conversation about this, and at some point (I forget the exact details), Kori says that she's in love with Dick, and Donna responds, "Are you sure you're not just in love with being in love?"

Like, again, dickkory hater bias here, but one of the reasons I was disappointed by the canon portrayal of dickkory was that it always felt like Dick was getting way more out of this relationship than Kori. In particular, I just. Genuinely have no idea what Kori likes about Dick. They've never established that. I can guess and extrapolate, but while Dick has stated repeatedly and explicitly that he loves Kori for the openness of her emotions, her passionate nature, and compassion, Kori. Hasn't done anything like that with Dick. Again, I don't think this would be impossible to work through, but again, break up plotline. In this case, Kori could think back to Donna's words, and realize she was at least partly right; that it's not necessarily Dick specifically that Kori loves, but more the sensation of being in love itself, which she could get with virtually anyone provided she fell for them.

All of this could be combined with Dick's new clinginess regarding Kori, which is canon. I don't know WHY his mental health was going downhill that fast bc I'm only here for Kori, but regardless, you could have Kori getting worried about how much Dick depends on her emotionally, just like she already did in canon.

All this, combined with her newfound worry that she might simply not be getting enough out of this relationship herself and her feeling increasingly restricted in it, puts stress on her. Kori is an emotional person, and the reason she's put up with all of Dick's shit so far was that she loves him, wholly and completely. But if she started thinking it might be a better idea to take a slightly more rational approach to this relationship, the way Earthlings usually do, I think her eventually reaching the conclusion that a break up would be healthier for both of them wouldn't be OOC.

Of course, this does kind of depend on your interpretation of Kori, and the arc you want her to have. Canon sent her in wildly the opposite direction, in which she got more in touch with her Tamaranian roots and decided to live by them fully, which I don't mind in theory, but it was just. SO badly written. I think this would be a much more logical progression of her character after staying on Earth for so long, particularly since she's already become more willing and able to take a deep breath and calm her emotions if necessary. I'm not saying you'll have to basically just give her Earth's values when it comes to emotions, absolutely not please don't do that, but for this particular plotline, I think it'd work.

Plus, if they wanted to, this also leaves a lot more room for a reversal of the decision. If editorial changed its mind, it would've been really easy to give Dick an arc of doing a bit of soul searching, proving he can stand on his own, and proving he can support Kori emotionally in this relationship, and Kori would likely be extremely happy to take him back because she really does love him to pieces. Again, maybe it's the dickkory bias, but I think it'd even be good for them, in the long term.

Of course, none of this fixes the fact that the Mirage plotline was a really shitty portrayal of sexual assault, but I feel like that's been discussed fairly well by fandom at this point (I mean, it's not mentioned that frequently, but it's well-discussed for a 30-year-old plotline and people seem to be aware of the problems with it), so I don't feel like I really have much to add to that discussion. By contrast, whenever this arc comes up, I rarely see people mentioning how OOC Kori was, and they even sometimes use it to bash her/dickkory in general, so I felt like it was worth discussing on that angle.

[lemonietrinket]

How Day6 would react to overhearing you admit your crush on him to one of the other members

AN: a request from anon. i feel ive treated this more seriously (and focused perhaps more on the confessions themselves, bc i interpreted ‘crush’ subconsciously as ‘having long-term-feelings for’) than you meant in your request but i hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

Sungjin

“hyuuun, i’m in love please make it stop.” “only way that’s going to happen is if you go tell him.” “...i hate you.”

sungjin... i picture is going to date to marry (or an equivalent if marriage is not for you, as though i get the vibe he’s quite traditional, for the right person he would be very easily convinced), so he takes crushes and confessions quite seriously

probably would feel bad for eavesdropping

then would feel happy that you felt the same way

but then more serious issue of now having to confess would take over

would spend a long time thinking of the best way to do it

would probably settle on a classic walk or cinema/theatre depending on what’s showing

would make damn sure he and you would be alone while confessing—so to save both parties from pressure and embarrassment should things go wrong 

also he’s quite a private guy and would want to let others know on his own and your terms

ngl probably wouldn’t admit he’d overheard you until like... a long time later

it would be under the initial reasoning that he would wait until you were stable so it wouldn’t have too big of an effect

but then he would forget

until it randomly came up in conversation 

like we may even be talking years here

maybe when you live in your own place, just the two of you, and you’re hanging out with him and younghyun who is just refusing to go home bc the food is too good at yours who brings it up 

“i don’t understand how it took so long for you two to get together, like even wonpil was starting to find yn’s pining sickening.”

and you would be salty, because “excuse me i hid my desperation very well!”

and sungjin would just immediately come to support you because he’s a loyal motherfucker and would begin, without thinking “she did, i didn’t know until i—”

that would be when he stops himself bc hes like oh shit i didn’t tell her and now two very curious sets of eyes are like staring at him and he’s 98% sure he can’t backtrack at all 

“when you what?”

and he would just sigh “when i overheard you telling younghyun that you liked me”

and there’d be a moment of silence, followed by laughter 

youngk would be confused, probably, having a surprisingly better recollection that you perhaps would “wait i remember that—how did it take you two months to work out what to do next?!”

and you end up just laughing harder, before noticing the the mix of emotions on sungjins face and reassure him “it doesn’t matter how long it took, we’re together now”

anyway overall sungjin is probably quite serious about it, but it will have a happy ending, you’ve just got to be patient lmao 

Jae

“dowoon, what do i do?” 

jae would be playful about it

after hearing you ask dowoon for advice since hes good friends with him he would be ecstatic, but would try and keep it lowkey

he’d hide out of sight of the doorway he’d passed by to have his little moment

and then he wouldn’t be able to stop smiling

his eyes would keep glancing to you for the rest of the day, even more than usual

but i think he would want to make things more official as soon as possible, as he doesn’t want to waste any time when he could do it sooner and be with you

and so he’d ask if you had a spare moment on the day or so, and take you some place quiet

not necessarily his room, more likely just outside the front door in the warm summer air

and ngl i think he would totally pull the “i think you know why i summoned you here today”

of course, yall have no idea, but you’re used to his occasional crackheadery—otherwise why would you crush on him so hard? “not a bit, but if its a trip to get snacks you don’t even have to ask, i’m in”

“well, that is a plan for later... depending on how this goes”

that’s the point where you would get confused and begin to wonder if something is up, but hel’l continue “i found out something really cool today yn.”

“really? was it the pin to brian’s credit card?”

he would laugh but shake his head, “nah even better” and that would give you the heads up that this was serious, and it would occur to you that he might have overheard something

but it becomes obvious when he follows with “a little bird... told me that someone, likes someone else, in our group. our friendship group.”

you briefly consider panicking, as the whole thing could still be construed as him not liking you back, but you put on a brave face and push through, “oh really? who?”

“that’s the problem, i don’t know, but i was wondering if you did.”

the chance was clear for anyone to see, and seeing the glimmer of hope, you seize it “well, i know someone who likes you... but i’m not sure if its mutual, so that might be why they haven’t said”

“if it’s who i think it is, then it definitely is... mutual” he would admit

and that would be the closest the two of you ever got to literally word-for-word confessing, because out of nerves neither of you would probably be able to admit it at the crux of the moment

however, like in all the movies idc if its cliche you would gravitate towards each other, and that would be the moment where you both recognised your feelings as well as shared your first kiss together

ok i’m going to stop before i combust 

anyway as for whether he’d admit he’d overheard you, he would probably be quite quick to the chase on that one too, probably right after the kiss and you’ve spoken about it a bit more, he’ll probably just say “i kind of accidentally overheard you telling dowoon, please don’t be mad at me”

but how could you be, you’d gotten what you wanted after all

in conclusion, jae is lighthearted about it and woudn’t waste any time

Younghyun

“wonpil did i tell you how much i love his eyes?” “hmmm... perhaps... but tell me again, to just to make sure.”

god bless wonpil his emotional support would be A+

right off the bat our youngk is a songwriter

he probably finds a lot of inspiration out of love

and so his feelings for you coalesce to create love songs that he may or may not use in the future

anyhow, it means that to cope with his feelings he’s probably half composed something small where he admits them 

with little intention of you probably ever hearing it at all

or at least, not without big chunks edited and names changed/cut

but when he overhears you rambling to wonpil who doesn’t mind the sappiness a characteristic you probably got off our brian anyway with his occasional borderline emo-ness

he’s grateful to his past-self for starting it, and realises that maybe its time to finish it

so it’ll take a week or so for him to finally confess

bc even though hes a bit of a flirt, i don’t see him wanting to tarnish love, since he owes it so much and its not fun to play with someone’s heart, especially not yours

so it might take him a little longer, and when he gets round to it, it’ll be perfect, just like you in his eyes

so prepare to be serenaded

yes, that sort of serenaded

in dim evening light, with the sun’s glow beginning to fade and make way for the stars, flickering like the candles laid out for you

again, that classical vibe won’t be missed on him

as for whether he’d tell you, probably only if you asked, but he would add that he’d been writing the song beforehand

he just may not admit to not planning on ever performing it

overall? when it comes to romantic flair, kang younghyun is king 

Wonpil

“sungjin, uh, do you know where wonpil is? i can’t—” “isn’t he at your hip?” “as much as i kind of wish he was, he kind of isn’t.”

wonpil, my lovely sweetheart

probably wouldn’t be able to stop himself from just

walking straight in when he accidentally overhears you to ask right there and then

like, you’re probably pestering talking to sungjin in the kitchen or another equally frequented place, so it was likely that someone was going to overhear anyway 

and maybe that was part of sungjins plan dont put it past him

but also it meant wonpil got further into the room the hunt for sustenance spurring him on, you know how it is before he caught onto what was being said, thus making it harder to back out

thus sungjin knew he’d overheard, but you with your back to the door were still clueless

and would’ve stayed that way had wonpil not continued and straight up asked or sungjin not said anything, which lets face it by this point he was really considering doing

he would be really excited about hearing that the feelings were mutual, and you were right there so what harm was really being done if he did just straight up waltz in?

as soon as you heard his small “you like me too?” you would whip around 

aaand that would be sungjin’s cue to leave

“do you mean that?”

“it only feels right when you’re by my side, pillie.”

the words you would exchange would be in a soft flurry of emotion tbh, out of disbelief but excitement for the future

most likely ending with you embracing, foreheads resting against one another’s

fluff hours only in the house of pil, ok?

Dowoon

“jae, do you think dowoon will be free tomorrow?” “yea why?” “i want to take him to the cat cafe—” “oh my god is it happening?! is it really happening? are you finally going to tell him? plan ILU is underway?” “keep it down!” “oh god everybody stay calm, stay fucking calm—!”

my bean

my lovely bean

would feel guilty over accidentally eavesdropping, and this would reflect in his shyness later

however, he decides to run with the silver lining of having the chance to be prepared for tomorrow

and so he would not say a word and try and act natural

especially when you ask him if he wants to go out somewhere with you the next day

he’s not sure how he did, he tried to hide his ears as best he could but he was also well aware you knew him too well

when the next morning rolls around, he’s up early, getting ready in nice clothes that he hopes aren’t suspiciously too nice

and then he waits, trying to calm is nerves, before realising that maybe ignorance is bliss

when the time comes and you make your way to the cafe, he finds it difficult to act surprised, but also to try and keep his breath steady

finally, near the end, after asking if he had a good time and wanted to come back, you confess you liked him and it’s as if a weight lifts off his shoulders

he would kiss your cheek soon after, without much warning, out of relief and joy and nerves and a whole lot of else

and you’d probably pull him in for a proper kiss by his collar as soon as you’re sure he’s ok with it

and then the fact he eavesdropped would be a secret that he would die with

~~~

Masterlist

[agent-whiskeys-sweetheart]

Hiii ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) Could you write something about the boys finding you completely plastered in a bathtub? The POV: you were waiting for them but they were running late so you decided to have fun on your own 😆 And could you please add me to your tag list? 💕

Yes! This was my interpretation of your request. I hope it's what you were looking for.🤞I hope you enjoy it and keep sending in your requests! Also, I'm so sorry it took so long to get finished. I had a crazy day. I hope the content makes up for the lateness. ❤️

Javi was counting the minutes until he could get out of DEA headquarters and home to you. He had been chasing his tail all day trying to get a radio signal from Escobar and came up empty. Around midnight, Messina came out of her office to tell him and Steve to go home for the night. He was beyond grateful to be done, grabbing his leather jacket and hopping in his truck. When he stepped in the door of your apartment, he called out for you. "Y/N! I'm home! Are you still up?" He didn't honestly expect an answer so when he heard your voice coming from the bathroom he immediately went to join you. What he saw was far from what he expected. You were laying sprawled out in the bathtub, eyes half closed and several empty beer bottles strewn out on the floor. "You're home! God I mmmissed you. Why'd you take so long?" He walked over to the tub, sitting on the rim. There were a few dissipating bubbles and the water was cold. "Well, looks like you had some fun." He adds and you gasp. "I so did. Oh my gosh, you have no idea." As you continued to ramble, he picked up the beer bottles and threw them away before reaching into the tub to drain the water. "Hey! I was using that. I thought we could have some fun together." You say suggestively as Javi helps you out of the bathtub and grabs a towel to pat you dry. "Let's go, you need to go to bed. You're too drunk to have that kind of fun tonight." You protest but let him lead you to bed where you hop in, not bothering to get dressed. He goes into the living room, grabbing a beer for himself and turning on the tv. He was undeniably disappointed since he had been looking forward to seeing you tonight, but he knew that he needed to take care of you first. He quickly decided to join you in bed.

Oberyn had been gone all night for advisory meetings with his councilors. While you waited for him, you cracked open a bottle of fine Dornish wine that was gone before you could blink. When he had finally finished up and made his way to your chambers, he was surprised to find that you weren't in bed. He wandered into the bathroom to find you in the tub, half asleep. It made him smile that you had waited up for him, craving his presence before you went to bed. He chuckled, waking you as he approached. "Hey!" You would try to get up, failing miserably, as he poured more warm water into the bath and took off his robe. "Are you gonna get in with me? We should have sex." You whispered the last sentence, making him laugh again. "No, not tonight, my dove. I think you've had enough fun for one night. And I will not take a drunken yes as proper consent. I'm just going to sit with you." Very clumsily, you made room for him in the tub. Oberyn nestled in behind your back, pulling you warmly into his chest. He sat there with you for a while, resting his chin on your head. His hot flesh against yours made you tired very quickly, so he helped you out of the tub, dried you, and brought you to bed where he curled close to you until you both fell asleep.

Maxwell had tried to finish up his work as quickly as possible. You had been sending him suggestive photos all day and he couldn't wait to get home. He would come through the front door, immediately making his way to your bedroom. When he saw that you weren't in the bed, he ran towards the bathroom, hoping to find you there. Sure enough you were slouched in the tub, a few bottles of champagne empty on the floor. "Oh my god, Maxie!" You would shout as he approached the tub taking in the sight. "Are you drunk?" Unable to help the anger that crept into his voice, he put his hands on his hips. "Maybe just a little bit." You hiccup. "Look at how selfish you are. You couldn't wait long enough for me to get home? You're such a naughty girl." The water sloshed as you squirmed around at his words. "Does that mean you're going to spank me?" He reaches down to drain the tub, grabbing a towel. "No, it means I am going to put you to bed because you are too drunk to think." It was impossible for him not to want you, seeing you dripping wet and begging for him, but he knew it would be wrong to take you while you were so plastered. You pouted as he dried you off and led you to bed. "Are you mad at me?" You would ask, already snuggling into your pillow. It was times like these that Maxwell felt were perfect for being honest about his feelings, knowing you wouldn't remember in the morning. "I just really missed you today and I wish you had waited for me. I know I was late, but I thought you would have put in an effort. I did everything I could to get home to you but you were too impatient." With that, he made his way to the guest bedroom, deciding to wait until you were sober to get into bed with you. Even though you were drunk out of your mind, regret crept into your heart. In a brief moment of sobriety, you promised yourself you would make it up to him in the morning.

It seemed like every time Max tried to leave, someone else would come barging into his office with something "urgent". When he was finally able to sneak away, he drove home as quickly as he could. He was praying that you would be awake to welcome him home. When you heard the front door open, you immediately called out to him. Max smiled brightly, following your voice. However, this was not how he expected to find you. Your legs were over the side of the bathtub, half the water on the floor with a beer in your hand. "Welcome home!" Max would walk over to you, picking up beer bottles along the way. "What's all this?" You hiccup before explaining. "Well, you weren't home for a long time so I thought I would have a few drinks without you." Rather than being upset, Max felt bad for keeping you waiting. He wished that he had called to tell you he would be late so you could have gotten some sleep instead of getting hammered in the tub. "I'm sorry I was late, sweetheart. Here let me help you get to bed." You whined, making grabby hands at him. "I don't want to go to bed! I want you." He helped you up, steadying you when you got to your feet. "I don't think that's such a good idea. Let's see how you feel in the morning, okay? But you don't have to go straight to bed. Why don't we just sit and watch a little tv?" You liked that idea, letting him pull your t-shirt on over your head. The two of you stumbled to the living room where you laid in his lap as the tv played, passing out within seconds.

Jack was supposed to be back from his mission hours ago. He had told you it would be a super quick bust, but as the clock hit midnight you decided to get started on the fun without him. By the time you heard the door unlock, you were too far gone. Jack's boots thumped through the hall as he tried to find you. "In here." You'd holler, causing him to step into the bathroom. You were sitting with your legs crossed, hands in your lap smiling up at him. "My cowboy's home!" Jack would light up at the sight of you, taking notice of the large amount of empty containers of alcohol nearby. "Well, don't you look too damn cute. You couldn't wait to start without me, huh?" All you could do was giggle as he sat on the rim of the tub. Jack couldn't help but admire how sweet you really did look, cheeks all flushed and those pretty lips curled up into a smile. "Come on, get in!" You would insist, but he shook his head. "I think I'd rather get in bed, wouldn't you?" As you tried to get up, you would begin rambling about anything and everything, Jack listening in amusement. As you continued to talk he got you dressed and helped tuck you into bed. "How did I get into bed?" You would ask, causing him to chuckle. "Get some sleep, hun." He would say, turning to leave. "Wait! Don't leave." You would whine. Jack would happily climb into bed with you, stroking your hair as you both fell asleep.

Tags: @pedrosdoll @nopeforyou @readsalot73 @gamingaquarius @roxypeanut @talesfromtheguild

[apriorisea]

BTS Imagine Series: Don’t Leave Me, Pt. 5

Hoseok x You

That night, he doesn’t meet the others for a late dinner.      He doesn’t join them for a few drinks after.       He doesn’t even answer Jungkook’s text about playing video games together.      He just goes back to his apartment. It’s big and empty and silent.       He hates it.       The last message from you hasn’t changed, no matter how many times he looks at it: Please don’t.       So he doesn’t. He sits silently in his dimly-lit kitchen for hours.       His knee is killing him.       But it doesn’t hurt more than how much he misses you.

----

You sit in your car for 45 minutes, crying until you just can’t anymore. Your head aches, your eyes sting, your throat feels raw. You hurt.      The first thing you see when you enter your apartment is his jacket hanging on the back of a kitchen chair. Your stomach lurches.       I don’t get it.       A few more stubborn tears slip down your cheek and you wipe them away angrily. You move instinctively towards the chair, reaching out to touch the jacket before you can stop yourself. “How can you seem like you love me so much, but not enough?” you whisper to him. Except he’s not there.       The apartment is silent. Empty. Just like it was for the 3.5 weeks while he was touring, except---      Your breath catches in your chest. Except he’s not coming back now.        Closing your eyes tight against the tears that bubble up, you suddenly realize you don’t want to be alone in this empty, silent apartment. You grab your phone and before you can stop yourself, open Hoseok’s contact.       “No.”      Your heart hurts so much, but you force yourself to navigate out of his contact and to your best friend’s instead.       “Hi,” you sniffle when he answers. “Can you come over?”      He’s there within 15 minutes. By this time, you’re changed into baggy sweats and sitting listlessly on the couch. You’d washed all your make-up away, which only highlighted how red and swollen your eyes were. You’d kept the TV on as loud as you could, unable to bear the silence.      He knocks once before letting himself in. “Hey,” he says hesitantly, shutting the door behind him. “What happened?”      You take a breath to explain---and lose the words in a torrent of tears.       Sighing, he moves to sit next to you on the couch, reaching out an arm to wrap around your shoulders. “All right, dummy,” he says, rubbing your arm. “Tell me.”      The two of you had known each other practically since birth, so you had complete confidence that he’d be able to interpret your watery, muffled, garbled storytelling. By the time you’re finished, the second wave of tears is over. You sit back, wiping your nose on your sleeve. “All right,” you say thickly. “You tell me.”       He’s quiet for a moment, before turning to look at you shrewdly. “Are you really ready for my opinion?”       “I....” you hesitate; one of the things you loved the most about your best friend was his ability to offer unbiased, straight-talk opinions. Coincidentally, it was also one of the things you hated the most about him. “No,” you admit.      Nodding, he gets to his feet and heads for your kitchen. “Please tell me you have ice cream or chocolate or something; I came woefully unprepared.”      You watch him rustle around the kitchen through puffy eyes. “You think I’m wrong,” you posit.       “No.” He pauses in his search and turns to look at you seriously. “I think you have every right to be upset and hurt, and for that I want to punch his face in.”      The amount of snot you’d accumulated through your crying-fest causes you to make a really unattractive noise as you manage a laugh.       “I’m serious,” he insists, returning to the couch with a bag of mini-Snickers, a half-full carton of mint chocolate-chip ice cream, and two water bottles. “I’m a good 10cm taller than him; he wouldn’t even know what hit him.”      “You,” you say, already feeling a little better at this familiar humor. “You were what hit him.”       Smiling, he hands you a spoon. “So.” He opens a mini-Snickers and pops it into his mouth. “Did he ever apologize? Or did he just keep insisting that he wasn’t a liar?”       You pause, putting your ice-cream-laden spoon back into the tub. “He...” Frowning, you trade your spoon for your phone; with your best friend here next to you to help analyze, you’re not afraid of opening Hoseok’s messages anymore. “He just keeps saying he’s not a liar.”      “Yeah, I really can’t get behind that,” he says, shaking his head. “Whatever his reasoning might be, he did lie.”      “Right?” you say glumly, folding your arms over your stomach, ice cream forgotten. “Honestly, that’s part of what hurt me the most: that instead of trying to apologize or explain, he just kept saying he wasn’t a liar.”      “Well he was flustered,” he reasons logically, digging his own spoon into the now-abandoned ice cream.      You raise an eyebrow. “So that makes it okay?”      “Hey.” He waits until you accept the Snickers he’s offering you. “I’m on your side, dummy. Always. And I never said it was okay.”     You exhale heavily and tip your head back to rest on the couch. “The closest he ever got to apologizing,” you remember, “is saying that he never meant to hurt me. Isn’t that the oldest excuse in the guy playbook?”      “It’s turned into that now,” he shrugs, “But some of us actually mean it still.”      You’re quiet for a moment. “The worst....” You take a second to catch your breath, feeling fresh tears sting your eyes. “The worst part was when he said but.”      “But?”      “I asked him if he even loved me,” you say quietly, “And he said “Of course I love you, but....” The tears catch the end of your sentence, carrying it away.      Wordlessly, he leans over, pressing his shoulder against yours in a familiar sign of solidarity; a code the two of you had made, a sign that the other person wasn’t alone, wasn’t shouldering everything on their own. It helps. The two of you sit like that for a long time, snacks ignored. Finally, when you feel like you’ve caught your breath again, you clear your throat.      “Okay. I’m ready for your opinion now.” You reach for a Snickers.      He nods, gathering his thoughts again. “Generally speaking,” he begins, “This dude’s a good guy, right?”      “Yes.” The answer comes immediately, easily.      “He’s never mean or cruel?” he persists, looking carefully into your eyes. “He doesn’t demand things? He’s not abusive?”       “No.”      “Good.” He thinks again. “Does he take care of you? Worry over you? Try to make things easier for you?”      Your stomach knots as you remember all the little conversations you’d had before Hoseok had left for tour: don’t forget the trash, the landlord’s coming over, remember your dentist appointment. “Yes,” you whisper.       He nods. “Do you believe that he loves you?”      “Yes.” Even with how much your heart was hurting right now, you knew it was true. “Except for the but.”      “Here’s my theory.” He takes a long drink from his water bottle first. “There’s something he’s trying to protect you from.”      This catches you completely off-guard. “...Protect me?”       “Yeah. Whatever it is he’s “hiding” from you is being hidden in an effort to protect you.”       “Like--like what?”       He shrugs. “I don’t know. But...we both know the hectic life of an Idol, right? How much their privacy is invaded, the death threats, the stress....It’s not beyond imagination, right?”       Defamation. “Right.”       “Now,” he turns towards you seriously. “Hear me carefully: I don’t agree with it. Whatever it is. You’re in a committed, serious relationship, and that requires transparency and intimacy in all things. There really shouldn’t be secrets, no matter the reason for them. That’s my opinion, anyway.”       You nod slowly.       “But....the two of you are still brand-new in a baby relationship.” He sits back. “These things take time to work out.”       There’s a long pause.       “So you think I was wrong?” you ask eventually.       “Not wrong,” he says firmly. “He still lied to you. And then lied about lying. You still have a right to be hurt.” He studies you for a moment. “What do you think?”       Your swollen eyes are aching and your head is starting to swim a little from exhaustion and the crying. “I think....I want to be in an honest relationship, with someone who loves me enough to include me in everything. A real partnership.” You exhale roughly. “And I think I’m sad. And tired.” You look over at him.      He smiles gently. “Ready for sleep now?”       “I think so.” You grab his arm and give it a squeeze. “Thanks for coming,” you say. “Sorry it’s so late and I’m such a mess.”      He laughs. “I’m pretty sure I called you over at 3 in the morning after Ex #4 dumped me.”       You make a face. “Usually I hate it when you refer to your ex-girlfriends just as “ex # whatever,” but.....man, I hated her so much.”       “She was the worst,” he agrees easily. Growing more serious, he adds, “But your guy is not the worst.” Bumping your leg with his, he goes on. “I’ve seen how happy you’ve been these past few months. That makes me vouch for him more than anything else. I just want you to be happy, dummy.”      You both get to your feet and you accept his hug willingly. Sighing heavily, you say, “I’ll keep you updated.”        “I’m always here,” he says as you walk him to the door. “Speaking of Idol-privacy, though, are you sure it’s even cool that you told me all of this? Am I going to get snipered on my drive home??”       You laugh. “It’s fine. I’m sure he’s talking and commiserating with all his buddies right now, too.” The thought twists your guts a little.       Shoes back on, he gives you a look. “Okay. Get some rest. Text me in the morning, okay? And don’t be afraid to give yourself a little time to think. Just listen to your instincts. It’ll be okay.”       “Thanks. Drive safe. Send me a text when you get back?”       “Yes, ma’am.” With a final wave, he’s gone.       You close and lock the door behind him, feeling much lighter---though still heartbroken. As you shut off the lights and head for bed, you can’t help but picture the scene again: Hoseok, surrounded by his brothers, explaining and defending, getting advice from the older ones and support from the younger ones.....The image brings you sorrow and relief at the same time.       “You should be here with me,” you whisper to his pillow. “But at least you’re not alone.”

----

He was alone.       It was well past midnight, and he hadn’t heard from you again.       The apartment was dark and empty and still silent.       He sat alone in the kitchen, his thoughts a mess.       Finally, at 3am, he drags himself out of the kitchen and down the hall to his empty bedroom. He stares at your side of the bed for ages.       In the end, he grabs his pillow and favorite blanket and takes it back into the living room with him. He curls up on the couch, turns the TV on so it isn’t so silent, and tries to sleep.      Everything hurts.       How? How did he end up losing you anyway?

[love-fireflysong]

mayhaps... 40 in ur outlast/until dawn au :] interpret that however u will (mainly askin this cause i wanna read More about it)

(Wait. You, you want to read more about my shitty ass au that’s just like 3 different au’s in a trenchcoat?????? Yeah, yeah, um, okay. I think I can do that! Maybe. Possibly.)

You can pick and choose your own kiss prompt to send in here!

Five months, three weeks, and six days. Five months. Three weeks. And six days. The three of them had last been in the same room together five months, three weeks, and six days ago. One hundred and seventy-six total days, and they had learned to savour every second-long glance they managed in narrow hallways and spotted across courtyards through windows ever since.

Four months, one week, and two days ago marked the day that Josh had heard Ashley’s voice for the first time since they had been forcefully separated. It had been weak—an echo so faint that he was convinced at first that he had just imagined it—but after going nearly forty-eight days unable to talk when they used to never go more then two, the two of them had latched onto it all the same.

Thirteen days later, Chris’s confused and hopeful voice finally joined the two of theirs. Ashley had been so overcome with their combined relief and the overwhelming realization that they could finally at least talk to each other again, that her sobbing had almost gotten them caught right away. Three months, three weeks, and three days ago they were allowed to be together at least like this.

Two months since the day Josh had discovered Chris’s face looking back at him in the reflection of the bathroom mirror, discovering that they could see what the others did as well. The amount of time they all spent staring into mirrors with that revelation probably wasn’t the first hint that the Morphogenic Engine had finally birthed something in them, but it was likely the most damning. They had hoped that the doctors would just assume this to be nothing more then a case of exceptional narcissism, but luck was not on their side (not that it had ever been in this place). It didn’t matter. They were so desperate to even just look at each others faces—tired, worn down, and abused as they all were—that they would accept any consequences that would come from this.

And consequences there were. 

One month and three days ago, after the tests and ‘therapy’ sessions had only become longer and more frequent, the next pathological birthing revealed itself. It seemed that not only were they of one mind and eyes, but now their bodies were connected as well. A wound delivered to one of them would be felt just as terribly by the others with no mark to mar their skin.

The last month had been spent with even more work put into making sure they were kept apart, housing each of them in different areas of the asylum so they would never be allowed catch a glimpse of the others again. Believing that this separation would only exacerbate the trauma of not being allowed to contact each other except through the use of their new ‘gifts’. Well, it certainly exacerbated the discovery that this new connection of theirs meant that they were now connected in more ways then one. The further the distances between them, the less of themselves they became. 

Josh felt unable to speak, his tongue fat and useless in a mouth full of cotton. Chris swearing that he had been submerged and forced to move in a room of syrup, and his hands too shaky to hold onto anything larger then a penny. And Ashley’s poor brain filled with fog and running on novocaine all at once, unable to string words or thoughts together that she had loved oh so much.

Up until two days ago, there had been discussions had between doctors and scientists that more tests might reveal more connections; taste, smell, and true hearing being added to the sensations they all now shared—until they were molded into not three individuals, but a single being that had been slowly stripped away and finally ripped apart into three bloody pieces of the same heart. But decisions were made, and it was agreed upon that the three of them were to be prepped and connected to the Morphogenic Engine together. The three of them had become so intertwined after all, that maybe having all three of them hooked to the Engine at once would cause them not only to share the same lucid dreaming state, but enter the same lateral ascension needed to become host to the Walrider.

The first time the three of them would be together in the same room in five months, three weeks, and six days. And they wouldn’t even be awake for it. 

And a day ago—informed that they should be honoured to have finally reached this important milestone in Project Walrider—all three of them had requested, begged, pleaded that they be allowed to spend even ten minutes together again beforehand. Each of the doctors sent to talk to them had rolled their eyes and simply stated that they were under no positions to be making demands. But, seeing as they had been such good and educational guinea pigs, they would maybe consider it.

They would never know what the final answer would be, because a little over two hours ago good old Billy had reached lateral ascension and everything went to shit.

And now, they had all managed to escape the rooms that had been holding them apart from each other—Ash and Chris from their respective rooms in the Female and Male Wards and Josh from his cell in the Prison Block—and were in the process navigating the maze that Mount Massive Asylum was quickly becoming. And with blood caked between their toes, screams of the dying—patients and staff alike—echoing down every hall and in every room, and the taste of freedom becoming stronger with every step closer they got to each other, they didn’t have time to be doing this. 

They shouldn’t be doing this. Both of them knew that they shouldn’t be doing this. Hell, technically all three of them knew that they shouldn’t be doing this. But well, it had been five months, three weeks, and six days since the three of them had been in the same room. So as Josh had shoved Chris up against the wall in one of the little alcoves in the Male Ward’s basement to make up for all one hundred and seventy-six days apart, everybody else could fuck right off because they needed this.

They could claim this as an personal experiment later, not that Ashley would believe them then, cause she certainly didn’t now. The two of them could sense her exasperation and unsurprised acceptance amid her own want just as clearly as she and Josh could feel the red-hot throbbing of Chris’s still bleeding arm, the long and deep gash burin hot and painful where Trager had caught him with the edge of his bone shears. His hands had been too shaky to firmly grasp the door knob, and his reflexes too slow to try and fully evade the blades in time.

Not that anyone would be able to guess that now. Thankfully, it had seemed that the closer the two of them had gotten, the more their own personal afflictions had faded. Chris couldn’t remember the last time his grip had been so firm as he held Josh as close as he was able, and Josh was dimly amused that the first thing he was doing with his now more mobile tongue was shoving it as far into Chris’s mouth as he could.

The two of them felt like they could have stayed in that alcove for ages, hiding from other Variants who had become so lost and absorbed by the Engine’s touch that they would have been killed without a thought. Slowly becoming reacquainted with a body that had once been as familiar to them as their own, that they had only been allowed to touch and remember in dreams, but they needed to move on.

Need. Move. Please. Miss you. Please.

That was all that was needed. As closer to completion that Chris and Josh were feeling, Ashley was still out there. Alone. And as fogged as ever. From her eyes, they could see the dark shapes of doorways and tossed bedframes as she scrambled through wreckage so frantically and desperately that they could feel the phantom stones and glass digging into the soles of their bare feet. The two of them reluctantly separated, and there was no denying the fact that despite having Josh next to him, Chris’s hands still shook as though going through withdrawals. Not that it would be far from the truth of course, not having Josh or Ashley in his life had definitely been akin to stopping an addiction cold turkey.

“Well, let’s get a move on, hey Cochise?” Despite the ease of the lopsided smile on his face, the voice that came out was raw with disuse and the words felt fat and wrong on his tongue. “Don’t wanna run in to Big Debbie now do we?”

If Chris Walker wanted to kill them like he had everyone else so far—heads ripped off their bodies as easily as popping the top of a dandelion from it’s stem—then he could goddamn wait until they met back up with Ash.

They had been apart for five months, three weeks, and six days. They refused to add on even one more day.

They refused to make it six months.

[tamakiamajikistentacles]

Notification {Shoto Todoroki}

When it truly came down to it, Shoto Todoroki was a man of simple pleasures. He spent long days at his hero agency both patrolling and working with the few sidekicks that had been recently taken on, so when it came time for him to come home to the apartment he was only ever after three things: a kiss from his girlfriend, a warm shower, and a filling meal.

The universe favored him, he supposed, in the fact that he could generally have all three of those things within half an hour of walking through the door at the end of his workday. The kiss was always first; it started the night off properly, a quiet “welcome home” and “I missed you” whispered between them. The next two were followed shortly after.

“I’m just finishing dinner,” she said to him that evening. “Go ahead and shower, it should be finished when you’re done.”

Her voice was quiet, even; it wasn’t her usual easy smile sort of happy that followed his arrival, but with the weather dark and wet he couldn’t blame her. The rain had been persisting for almost five days and it had subdued just about everyone’s mood.

She playfully waved him off as he headed toward the bedroom, fingers already unbuttoning his shirt as he sought out clean nightclothes. He grabbed the first pieces of sleepwear he saw and moved into their bathroom.

His after-patrol showers at the agency had nothing on his home-from-work showers he found out long ago. At the agency he removed the surface layer of sweat and grime from his efforts to protect the public and do as much good as possible, the plain, nondescript scent of the soap dissipating as soon as the steam cleared. There in his own home he had the simple luxuries of time to clean himself more thoroughly and the citrusy smell of his own bodywash—if he also liked that the scent of his soap mixed with his girlfriend’s floral one to make the bathroom smell like orange blossoms, that was his own business.

Stepping under the spray of the shower relaxed him, the water comfortably warm so as not to agitate his competing temperatures. A contented sigh left his lips as he worked shampoo into his hair and was reminded as always of the day in high school Kirishima had jokingly asked him what it was like to wash red hair without most of the color running down the drain. The memory never failed to make him smile.

When he uncapped his bodywash the scent of orange and a hint of lemon began to fill the small bathroom, clinging to the tile and awaiting its springtime companion when she would shower later. Maybe it was strange but he truly loved the combination. It reminded him of how truly wonderful his life had become in recent years, a large part her doing, though not all.

He was a pro hero but not in his father’s shadow; he was nowhere near the top spot in the charts but a hero who made children’s eyes shine in wonder all the same when he patrolled. And he was loved for being himself. He was loved for being Shoto, no family name necessary. His friends from UA and Shiketsu and the agency were happy to be around him. His girlfriend loved him for the love he gave her even if at first it was hesitant.

Turning the water off, he grabbed his towel as he contemplated how far he had come in his affections with her over the course of the relationship. He had started out worried that anything he did was wrong, the incorrect answer to an obvious question of what he was supposed to do as one half of a budding relationship, but slowly he learned that the question was open-ended and left to interpretation between her and himself. Once he understood that, he doubled down on everything he did to keep her happy as she stood by his side in navigating adulthood and a healthy relationship.

He began to dress in sweatpants and one of his old comfortable t-shirts, his hands running through his still damp hair to style it somewhat. When he turned back to grab his dirty clothes, he bumped her facewash with his elbow causing the lime green tube to tumble off of the counter and into the small wastebasket tucked near the wall. He shook his head with a roll of his eyes; she never put anything away, and she was lucky he missed bumping her toothbrush instead.

Bending down, he pulled the small bin closer and nudged makeup streaked cotton rounds out of his way. He scooped up the tube, wondering how such a small thing could cost nearly five thousand yen, and started to stand when bright pink caught his eye. Brows furrowing curiously, he looked closer, his first reaction to wonder when their thermometer was pink and why she was throwing it away before he recognized the writing further down the white stick.

The result he read was simple—one line meant negative—but his mind had never felt so overloaded.

Why was he just now finding out about the need for a test? What had happened or not happened that made her think she needed to take it in the first place? Was this why she was so much quieter when he got home, not the rain? She hadn’t been acting off to him, was she hiding the fear or the curiosity or the excitement or the disappointment? Had she not really been hiding it but in actuality he had missed it? Was he out of touch with her needs, her health, her wellbeing?

His chest felt tight and he was warm not from the shower or his quirk. Any tension that had been released was back tenfold, and he needed answers if even a fraction of it would disappear again.

Grabbing the test the pushed to his feet and tossed the facewash aside to go back into the main area of the apartment. She stood at the chabudai plating the hot pot spread and looked up as he entered the room looking wide-eyed with flushed cheeks.

“Shoto?” she asked, rounding the table to come into their sitting room.

He held up the test and her concerned look shifted into something he couldn’t identify.

“It was negative,” she offered after a long silence between them.

“I can see that,” he said evenly, his gaze drifting back to the plastic stick only a few centimeters long that seemed to be putting more distance between them with each of the silent seconds that ticked by.

She crossed her arms, closing herself off to the discussion in the only way she could think to. “Then I don’t know why you’re bringing it up.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about this?” he asked, brows furrowed.

“I was afraid, okay? Not of you, so don’t even start down the path of those negative thoughts,” she warned, well aware of the self-loathing attitude he could manifest about himself. “I was afraid because we’re both twenty-one and having a baby right now would be a huge life change.”

“Yes, it would be, but it’s a change to both of us and I deserve to know one way or another. Were you even going to tell me that you took this test?”

She turned away from him. “There was nothing to tell.”

“Don’t you think that as the other person in this relationship that I deserve to know this sort of thing, negative be damned?” he asked, frustration seeping into his tone. “Before you took the test or after, I… I should have been told.”

She let out a shaky breath. “Alright, Shoto, then in the future if this situation were to happen again, when would you prefer to be notified, before or after? Would you like a phone call? Email? Text message?”

His eyes fell shut as he pinched the bridge of his nose, the anger he was feeling at her goading words needing to be kept in check before he said something he would regret. He had to be understanding, he reasoned with himself. There couldn’t be a great way to tell your boyfriend that he could potentially become a father when it was totally unplanned and unexpected.

“What I would prefer,” he started softly, opening his eyes to meet hers, “is for you to come to me when something is wrong or in this case, worrying you. If this same situation were to happen in six months, I… I want you to tell me the second you think taking a test is necessary because if you’re worried about the result then you shouldn’t be alone. Let me carry some of the worry, okay?”

Her glossy eyes didn’t break his gaze.

“You make my worries so much more bearable when you take them on with me, so let me do the same,” he said. “Please, let me be a good partner to you.”

“Shoto,” she whispered, voice cracking as she crossed over to him.

Immediately he dropped the test and his hands fell to her hips, his fingertips sneaking beneath the hem of her top to rest on bare skin, a connection he needed and one he thought she did too. Her hands came to fist loosely in the material of his t-shirt that covered his stomach and her head tucked into the crook of his neck. His lips pressed gently against her temple before he rested his cheek against her hair.

“You’re not angry with me?” she asked quietly.

He shook his head lightly just once. “No, I’m not angry. I was afraid too, afraid that I had done something to lose your confidence in me to handle the situation.”

“I’m sorry, I…” she hesitated, “I shouldn’t have kept it to myself, you’re right. You should have been there, especially if it had… if it had been positive.”

A strange flutter in his chest made him consider what that would have meant. One more kiss to come home to, another seat at the chabudai, more bottles of soap and shampoo in their shower. Some small underlying note to add to the orange blossoms he coveted so dearly.

It would have meant change, change to a lot of his life in some subtle ways and some major ways too. Changes he wasn’t sure he was ready to make in that moment, but ones he could be open to someday. She felt it too, he knew. Changes to their lives and to her body and to their little family overall were appealing when looking at it as the future just farther than a year or two away.

“If it had been, we could have done it,” he said, voice steady and confident. “We would have made the changes we needed to make it work just like we always do. And one day, we will. But right now, I’m more relieved than anything. I’m not quite ready for fatherhood.”

“One day,” she echoed. “One day when we’re both ready we can be excited to find out together.”

“Exactly,” he smiled, moving to kiss her.

[varricmancer]

Lost And Found  | 4

Also available on AO3

Pairing: Varric Tethras x OC

Summary: Instead of the nothingness she had craved, Crystal woke up in the world of Thedas. What had once been merely a story that she loved now seemed very real and she was right in the heart of it all. She soon finds a reason to live again and a love in the arms of someone as quietly broken as her.

A/N: Okay, a million years later and here is Varric's POV. It's a bit choppy, but I meant for it to be like that because it's, ya know, from his POV. It's not a retelling of events but simply a glance into his mind. Also, he's a man - and a horny bastard at that - so there's a bit of nsfw thoughts going on in this chapter. Lots of body appreciation. I love writing characters that are already whipped and can't figure out what that means lmao. You poor sod, you had no chance.I'll try to be faster with the next chapter, because I'm just as excited as you guys to see what's happening

A wave of relief spread through the party as the clanging of swords and crinkle of lightning were silenced. As one, they holstered their weapons and strode back to the waiting wagon and the rest of their traveling companions.

Varric spared a glance for one of the bodies lying still as he passed - an unfortunate young apostate sporting one of his arrows in his chest.

Killing never got easier, never mind what kind of bullshit he spouted. No matter that it was his life or theirs - he’d still be seeing the startled green lifeless eyes of a boy barely reaching adulthood in his dreams, along with all of the countless others that already haunted him.

He sighed wearily and climbed back onto his pony, adjusting his saddle sore ass as well as he could while he waited for the party to get back into position. The wagon of supplies and it’s guards were back into place behind him soon enough, with the Seeker and “The Herald” leading in the front.

The group of fighting Templars and Apostates were cleared from the road ahead which lead to their destination of a little hamlet called the Crossroads. By all reports, it was a tiny village barely worthy of even being called that, but due to its position (and that fact that Redcliffe was unreachable at the moment), it had become a sanctuary for refugees and the wounded.

A chantry mother had sent word to Haven asking for help with protection and supplies. Apparently, she’d even asked for the Herald to come himself. They’d all agreed it was an excellent chance to get word out about their newly formed band of do-gooders and let the people get a look at Maxwell Trevalyn, the freshly dubbed Herald of Andraste.

Varric wasn’t too sure if it was true, but he’d also seen too much shit throughout the years to rule it out completely. Regardless of whatever lofty title they were trying to burden him with, Maxwell still looked like a scared kid who just happened to be in the wrong place at the right time. However, the way he worked hard and silently accepted leadership despite being completely out of his element reminded Varric of Hawke in their early days - if he were tamer and had been raised as a pampered nobleman, that is.

The point was, Varric had taken one look at the kid and known he wasn’t going to be going home anytime soon. This Maxwell was going to make a name for himself and spawn a tale for the ages, he was sure - if he had the right kind of people watching out for him. He was getting too old for this shit and wanted to go home, but he felt like this kid was going to need someone in his corner. And this whole situation felt off in so many ways that he’d probably feel guilty if he did try to leave.

So that's how he found himself traveling around the godforsaken Hinterlands -  saddle sore, sunburnt and with a newfound hatred of bears - towards the beginning of their adventure. At first glance, this was simply a goodwill quest - show up and shake some hands, pass out food, kiss a few babies - but that group of apostates and templars that had been blocking the road were troubling. Sadly, he knew who to blame for it.

When the Crossroads came into view, he finally realized how much they were needed here. The chantry mother hadn’t mentioned how dire it really was or he suspected they would have sent help earlier. The people walking around were gaunt and dirty, many of them sporting bruises or missing limbs. They all looked severely malnourished, more so than the usual peasant. The moans and screams from the wounded were near-constant, adding to the practically visible cloud of desperation over the village. Add a bit more sewage stench and some unreasonably large rats and it would be just like good old Darktown.

They were able to spot the bright plumage of the chantry members working with the wounded and quickly made their way over to them. Villagers watched them with dawning hope in their eyes. A few of them started to cry and some of the children had even begun to cheer.

This. This was why Varric kept putting his own ass on the line all the time.

While Maxwell and Cassandra spoke to the chantry mother, Varric and Solas helped pass out the goods to the villagers. Soon enough, the pain in the ass bear that had attacked them earlier was chopped to bits and passed out among everyone to be cooked for the evening meal. Blankets and soaps, grain, and potions were all tearfully accepted by the people he handed them to. He may not be a very good man, but the joy he found in helping these people assured him that at least he wasn’t a bad one.

He was just handing off the last of the goods when Maxwell strides over, the weathered mother walking behind him imperiously.

“Everyone, this is Mother Giselle. She has some interesting news,” Maxwell grins, practically bouncing on his heels.

“Is it that everyone here is standing on death's doorstep? Because we noticed,” Varric drawled.

He was technically Andrastean, but that didn’t mean he let corrupt clergy off easy.

Her only tell that the words hit was a slight tick in her jaw as she nodded once.

“The situation here is deplorable, however, with the status of things we were unsure of where to ask for aid. I took a chance when I heard the hands of the Divine were involved in your “Inquisition.”

“And we are happy to help,” Cassandra stated as she rejoined the party. Her raised eyebrow towards Varric was something he’d long ago interpreted to mean behave .

“Yes, well,” Maxwell cleared his throat. “Mother Giselle says that another fell from a rift. A woman, no visible marks though.”

“An abomination perhaps?” Cassandra muses, standing straighter and placing a light hand on her sword.

“She appears to be a regular woman, free of magic or any signs of corruption. She fell from the rift and beyond a few broken bones and a few odd quirks here and there, nothing seems off about her,” Mother Giselle answers with a weary sigh. The way that she’d said ‘odd quirks’ like just mentioning them gave her a headache made Varric want to meet this woman very much.

The mother waved them away like annoying gnats soon after, with instructions to ask around for information on the area and what they could do to help. He supposed it was too much to expect her to already know that kind of (extremely important) information.

Thankfully, they found a soldier called Corporal Vale that seemed more informed and actually cared about taking care of the people there. Between him and a few others that piped in their opinions, the party discovered that what the people of the crossroads needed most right now was food and protection from the increasingly cold nights. They’d get a nice reprieve with the supplies that they’d brought from Haven, but that still wouldn’t be enough.

“I heard ye’re wanting to be put to work. I reckon I have a thing or two for ya,” a man called out as he strode towards them. They had just been discussing where to go from here, so anything was helpful.

“Of course, good sir. How may we assist you?” Maxwell plastered on his charming court smile, which seemed to have little effect on the man. Not that surprising considering the fellow looked as rugged and of the land as they come, and Maxwell reeked of privilege.

He grunts and looks over their little band as though he found them wanting, but good enough for now. His gaze only showed a sliver of appreciation when they landed on Cassadra (how original), then he seemed to meet Varric’s eyes straight on as though he assumed that he was really in charge.

“The goods that you brought us will help for a few days, but we’ll need more if we’re to recover enough to get back on our feet. Our lass Crystal says there’s a flock of rams over the hill. We’ve been unable to do any hunting what with the fighting all about so we’d appreciate if you brought in a few.”

“Of course,” Maxwell nods. “And you seem to know Crystal well?”

“Aye, I’m the mayor of this little corner. Know all my people. Whatever that daft old mother has been filling your head with needs to be ignored. Crystal is just a sweet and quiet lassie doing her best.”

“Oh, yes of course. We simply wanted to meet her.”

“After the hunting, if you please. She’s one of the ones that's been giving her rations to the little ones and I’ll not have her interrogated on an empty stomach.”

This Crystal must be quite the woman to inspire such loyalty despite her origins, Varric muses.

He can tell Maxwell has more questions, but with a few whispered words (orders) from Cassandra, they head off to hunt.

****

It was dark by the time they made it back and The Crossroads already appeared refreshed. There was a massive bonfire in the middle of the road where numerous pots and spits were working overtime to prepare the food they’d brought earlier. Kids were running around screaming and laughing as their parents watched with obvious relief. A few had even set up some rickety old instruments nearby to liven the place as they celebrated their newfound hope.

Several villagers rushed to greet their wagon and relieve them of the burden. They’d easily hunted down ten whole rams, stopping when it seemed like it would be enough to feed them for a few days and have enough left to preserve.

Varric wished there was more he could do at the moment, but he promised himself he’d write a few letters once they got back to Haven. A few favors called in and a bit of coin spread around and he’d have this little Hamlet healed in no time. And best of all, if he did it using the right channels, no one would know that Varric and his cursed bleeding heart was responsible for it.

Cassandra and Maxwell got pulled into a conversation with the Mother and the mayor (who had finally introduced himself as Giles) that Varric ignored as unimportant while he observed everyone else instead.

They already seemed in awe of Maxwell, sneaking glances his way with eyes shining with admiration. A few whispered words here and there would make today’s rescue seem more romantic than passing out a few slabs of dead sheep. It was always amazing watching the beginning of a legend be born.

His eyes flitted from one person to the next, all of them looking fairly similar as lower class humans tend to do. The sun-burnt skin, hunched backs, callused hands. The men smiling with three teeth left and the women looking haggard and drained after at least fifteen pregnancies.

It wasn’t until a couple of men moved to the side that he noticed the lone figure in the back.

At first glance, she was just as average as the rest. Peasant clothing without a shred of adornment anywhere. Injured somehow, as she had her left arm in a linen sling.  Normal brown hair and eyes, pale skin, thin lips. But something was telling him to take a second look, so he did. And then he began to observe the little things. The way that her skin was free of marks except for a few freckles, no sun-burnt patches, and semi-clean like she at least made an attempt to wash up here in the wilderness.

Her hair was basically average brown and pulled into a no-nonsense braid, but it was so long it reached her waist and when it caught the light of the fire it shone with a fiery copper highlight, as though to hint at hidden depths. Her eyes glinted like amber, big and trained on his party with just as much wonder as the rest of them. He thought they rather reminded him of Halla eyes. He didn’t believe a woman would find that complimentary though, so he’d try to think of something else.

Her lips were thin but appeared soft and kissable (where the fuck did that thought come from?). She smiled a little when she looked at Cassandra, and he noticed she had some of the whitest teeth he’d ever seen, bright and straight. A full set, too. Even he was missing one after a brawl a few years ago.

And that body! Andraste’s ass, he hadn’t seen a body like that on a human female outside of brothels. He’d bet that before she’d been forced to essentially starve she’d been voluptuous , but even now she was a good handful. Peasants never had this much meat on their bones, so that was his first hint that she was not like the rest. She was short, boasting only an inch or two above him, but he thought that maybe added to the appeal.

Those tits looked like they were trying their best to burst out of that ill-fitting dress, and the backside wasn’t faring much better. And the way that her waist curved in before flaring out into hips made for a man to grab onto.

Shit.

He glanced down at his pants, grateful that between the darkness of night and the constriction of the leather, his growing problem shouldn’t be too obvious. He shook his head and went back to studying her.

Her most damning feature, however, was her hands. You could tell a lot about a person by their hands. His were callused and scarred, with ink permanently staining his nails. The average human peasant’s hands were even worse, usually the color of leather from their life working outdoors and short jagged nails were practical.

Hers were so tiny he could easily fit them both in one of his hands and have room to spare. He could tell how soft they were even from here. Pink and not a spot in sight, with nails that were long and rounded, with flecks of pink on them like they’d once been painted (something he’d only seen done in Orlais).

A lady. And despite her small stature, definitely a human. Why was she here?

He crept through the crowd, trying to draw as little attention to himself as possible until he made his way to her side.

“It’s always us short ones that get stuck in the back, huh?”

He patted himself on the back mentally for such a smooth intro. She turned to him and he was struck by the emotion in her eyes. She was excited to see him ? She could be a fan, he supposed, but not many actually knew his face.

Up close, she was even more intriguing. He stood close enough for her breath to touch his cheek, and was amazed to smell clove and peppermint. Third hint that she wasn’t from around here, as human peasants always smelled like mead and rotting teeth.

He let his gaze travel over her, mostly to gauge her reaction and slightly because he couldn’t keep his eyes away from the massive mounds of flesh trying to burst from her borrowed dress. She blushed sweetly, making him feel like a lecher for a moment, but she didn’t seem to mind him looking.

Interesting.

Just as he was about to lay it on thick, Maxwell found them and drew her into a conversation. It turned out that his hunch was right and she wasn’t from around here. In fact, she was the one they’d been told about. The other “Fade Walker.” She didn’t seem to be touched by the experience like Maxwell had been, but the fall from the rift had been what injured her.

Her voice when she talked to Maxwell was quiet and shy like she wasn’t sure they wanted to hear what she had to say. Her body language was like she was primed for flight the moment one of them made a wrong step, even as she practically begged for their help. In fact, she reminded him of the injured dove that Fenris had rescued once. Dog had injured the bird’s wing and Fenris had taken it in and patched it up. It had been a timid little thing, jumping over every sound. But it was sweet and would trill and coo whenever Fenris spoke to it.

Varric frowned as he listened to them talk and stood at her side as Solas healed her fractured wrist, feeling a strange sort of protectiveness well up inside him. The feeling itself wasn’t unfamiliar - he was protective of his friends, of his dumbass brother, of Bia - her . But he barely knew this woman.

Maybe it was just that she seemed so...vulnerable. So soft. Every emotion played out on her face like she just wore her heart out for everyone to see. Anyone with decent skill in observation could tell this was the sort of woman that you protect from the world. That you keep safe behind walls filled with love and laughter, flowers in her hair and children at her feet.

It had been a long time since Varric had ever seen such a woman. Had he ever?

Even with the reveal of her “knowledge,” he could tell that she’d only held the rest back out of fear. Either that or she was literally the best spy in all of Thedas.

When they’d finally left that evening, he’d thrown her the sending crystal on a whim. He’d been holding onto that to give to Maxwell, and they were not cheap or easy to come by. However, he’d noticed her anxious gaze following him as they walked away and had again felt that urge to protect. Anything could happen and they’d be gone for an entire week. He sincerely doubted she knew how to even hold a knife, let alone protect herself with one.

The nightly storytelling was to reassure himself as well as her. He was sure letting Crystal hear them talk would ease any worries she might have about traveling with strangers. And when she silently answered and let him talk, he knew it was still in her possession and everything seemed fine. If something happened, he hoped that she’d be able to figure out how to use it and alert him. He’d have the apostate elf figure some way to get back quickly since he had the look of someone who knew more than he let on.

****

A week flew by and their party was growing increasingly hopeful about Crystal’s “usefulness” to the inquisition. Varric had to grit his teeth and clench his fist to keep from hitting Solas every time he used that word in conjunction with her. “Useful.” Like she was an item instead of one those that they were meant to protect.

Her notes that she’d shared had been really good, however. They’d managed to close down the rebel camps and clear the roads, took down a creepy green demon thing, and gotten a decent amount of horses to tide them over until they completed Master Dennett’s tasks.

Maxwell had declared the night before that they would take Crystal with them when they left for Haven. Varric knew that once they got there he’d have to watch out for the Nightingale, but at least he felt better about leaving her in a place surrounded by people he semi-trusted while he fought the good fight. Why he felt like that was his responsibility to worry about, he still hadn’t quite figured out.

It had become a little clearer, however, when they’d finally reached the Crossroads again and there’d she’d been like a ray of sunshine waiting for him. Maybe this protectiveness over her was 85% his cock’s fault, he thought, his pants tightening as she neared.

She looked a lot healthier since their last visit, obviously having made good use of the rations they’d left. Her eyes were bright and full of genuine happiness, smiling up at him. She’d let her hair free today, and it fell in luscious waves to her waist. Her clothes were once again borrowed and ill-fitting, but obviously the nicest she had. If it was possible, it seemed even tighter than the last dress, her modesty being miraculously saved by a worn strip of leather around the bodice.

It was strange how he felt like he could breathe properly now that she was in his sight. Had he been that stressed before? What was it about this damned woman? There hadn’t been anyone that had stirred him this much since...her .

And she was so easy to talk to. She spoke mostly only after someone else had spoken first, but she took his flirting in stride and offered witty responses. But every reaction to his touch and heated gaze seemed genuine and refreshingly honest. No practiced teasing he was used to.

And much later that evening was when he realized he was in trouble.

With a capital fucking T.

Because he’d been teasing her with the shirtlessness and letting his hair down, he’d admit it. If he was going to share a room with her for the night he wanted to play a little. Her reaction to him was flattering. So no one could blame her if she’d been trying to tease him back.

And that had been his first instinct when he’d turned to face her standing in front of the fire. That she’d finally shown her true colors and was asking for it. Begging for it. He’d been one step away from throwing her onto the bed and making her scream.

Until he’d looked at her face and seen the genuine innocent embarrassment of a lady. It had taken everything in him to calm down and let her run past him towards the bed. The damage had already been done to his mind, though, as everything the chemise had revealed to him was imprinted there like a tattoo. The dusky rose nipples firmed by cold, every inch of unblemished skin begging for his mouth, the strange nakedness of her mound.

He was sure if he played his cards right he could have her. Say a few things that women like to hear, promise a bauble or two, and she would let him fuck her. He wasn’t a saint and he’d done it before.

But there was something about the way she looked at him with such...admiration. Maybe even a little wonder and, yes, even a little attraction. He’s seen it all before, of course. He’s Varric Tethras - famous author, the right hand of the Champion, and heavy player in the underworld. Having people offer themselves for a night was a regular occurrence, and he was silver-tongued enough to get anyone else he might want.

With her, he just couldn’t do that. Couldn’t watch the trust and admiration fade from her eyes. She probably wasn’t as “innocent” as she seemed, but she certainly wasn’t one of his usual types of paramours. She was the type you kept, the kind that could wrap themselves around your heart so tight you couldn’t exist without them. He’d been there before and didn’t think he could survive that again.

****

Varric couldn’t seem to stop his gaze from straying to the newest member of their crew as he spun a (only slightly embellished) tale to entertain them for the evening. He was used to his audiences gasping in shock or staring raptly with excitement. Instead, she was watching him with a smirk that tilted her pretty lips, like she knew he was full of crap and was letting him spew it all anyway. But even more captivating was the look in her eyes - warm and fond, dangerously so. Like all he had to do was say the right words for her to tumble into his arms.

It was a look that he was growing increasingly familiar with over the past few days as they traveled back to Haven. And the idea of talking her into his bed was also becoming a regular thing. No matter how many times he told himself no, how often he argued with his own damn self explaining all the perfectly sensible reasons he shouldn’t, it still floated around in there.

Three days of taking up the rear of the party so she and her giant nug would be protected in the middle were beginning to take its toll. Because back there he had a perfect view of her.

He could see when she was amazed and cooing over some new sight. When she giggled because her stupid nug stopped in the middle of a trail to eat a flower. When she and Maxwell would chat about art, something she seemed educated on. When she tried so hard to fight off her exhaustion, yawning and stretching her arms until he thought her shirt would finally pop open.

And that damned shirt. It was his , and she had no right to look so appealing in it. She hadn’t had enough clothing with her so he’d tossed some spares to her and he’s regretted it ever since. The pants stretched over her legs like a second skin, cupping her ass and luscious thighs. The shirt was made with a purposely low v on the front since that’s how he liked them. On her, it was damn near scandalous. Her cleavage was out there for everyone to see. She looked incredible . And he was suffering .

“I said what do you think, Varric ?”

The louder than necessary yell near his ear jolted him from his thoughts. He turned towards Cassandra, the annoyance on her face comfortingly familiar.

“Pardon, Seeker. I got lost in the story. Did you need something?”

“You finished the story at least ten minutes ago. We were now discussing arming Crystal,” Cassandra scoffed, her disgust with Varric’s apparent lack of awareness evident.

“Arming? What for?” He tried for nonchalance, the thought of sending her into battle raising his hackles.

“Protection, dwarf. I only have so many eyes and if we get ambushed there’s no guarantee we’ll be able to protect her completely. She says she’s never handled a weapon before. What should we start her with? A dagger, perhaps?” Cassandra stares at Crystal in thought.

The woman in question scrunches her nose. “I suppose so. It’s small enough that I could handle it, I guess. But actually stabbing someone?” she shivers.

“A dagger is handy to have on hand, of course. I’d prefer you to be farther away from any combat, though. Take up the rear with me,” he suggests. He'd rather her be somewhere he could keep an eye on her, and right at his side seemed like the best idea.

“Like a bow and arrow? I know for a fact I can’t pick up that monster of a crossbow.”

Varric chuckles, suddenly warming up to the topic. He didn’t want her fighting, true, but it would be good for her to be prepared.

“I have a regular bow I’ve been holding onto. I was going to see if someone back in Haven wanted it since it’s decent. Hold on.”

He grunts and stands up, walking over to his pony to rifle around the packs. He pulls out a medium-sized bundle in leather, unwrapping it as he walks back to her. He pulls out a bow and hands it to her to look at.

“Its a Dalish hunting bow. I think it was made for a kid. Compact enough for you, though. Woods sturdy. I restrung it myself. And I think the carvings are just birds, nothing religious,” Varric explains, hovering by her shoulder as she looks it over.

“You’ll teach me?” she asks softly, the beginnings of a smile tilting her lips.

“Anything you want, little dove.”

The words flew out of his mouth before he could stop them, his eyes meeting her’s as they wore matching shocked expressions.

She stared at him and he felt not for the first time that she could see every inch of his tarred soul...and somehow still felt like smiling at him?

Her grin was tiny and shy, but it was there, making him puff out his chest like a fool for pleasing her.

“You’re the best,” she said softly then turned back to coo more at her new bow.

He wasn’t. He knew he wasn’t the best. He wasn’t even good.

But she made him want to try.

****

Some questions you probably have now:

1. Why do you keep writing Giles like he's from Scotland? - I dunno either, bruh. He writes himself and he decided he liked the word lassie. But notice that he can sometimes string a whole sentance together perfectly normal. It's like that on purpose. He's hiding something, I'm sure of it. Who stands in the middle of the road all day long and just watches people. Suspicious.

2. Why is Varric always talking about tits and ass - he's a dude. 97% of their thought process comes from their dick. Real science numbers. Totally didn't make that up.

3. It doesn't make sense. How can he like her this much already? - You're seeing into Varric's confused brain right now. He doesn't know what's going on either. Sometimes it be like that.

4. I thought you weren't going to make Crystal some bad ass warrior chick? - I'm not. But it's also unrealistic to not be able to arm yourself somewhat in such a wild land. Varric's watching out, don't worry.

5. Why does he keep calling Bianca "Her"? - I think there's a lot of stuff that's going on in Varric's giant noggin. For him, the bow is a safe way to say the name. Keep her in his thoughts without really thinking of her. But thinking of her name when it applies to her the person makes him think of...well, her. Does that make sense? It's a mental health protection thing, because minds are curious and we all have strange quirks up there. Separating the two in his mind helps keep him sane.

ANYWAY, I hope you all enjoyed! PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE comment! Even just a couple words. I need to know how I'm doing so I can improve future chapters. I can't wait to delve more into these two.