#it lightly. I think the irony is more so in the fact that he understand the dead pixel now and can't choose not to see it. rather than any

[dykedvonte]

RE: Your post on the AU of Jimmy being in the cockpit rather than Curly.

I think that Curly would think that Jimmy was reaping what he had sown, but in a way would feel a twisted sense of relief that Jimmy was brought down by his own actions rather than Curly himself having to be the "executioner" in the situation, so to speak.

With "taking responsibility" and the fix-it mentality that he and Jimmy share being the overarching theme, compounded with Jimmy flat out insinuating that all of his crimes on the Tulpar will be "Curly's tragedy" in that one scene, I think Curly would almost find comfort in the irony that the choice was forcibly taken away from him. Which in itself is messed up, but it might be a bit cathartic. There's an interesting polarizing dynamic within Curly's relationship to his own responsibility in that it's his greatest burden and the thing he, too, avoids the most.

I don't think Curly would find any relief in this actually. While Curly didn't/doesn't like the responsibility he had, he defiantly doesn't avoid it, he just goes about it in a weird way.

A thing I noticed is that its less about taking responsibility with Curly and really what that responsibility meant objectively and then subjectively to Curly. The leniency that he applies to Jimmy also applies a bit to the others as well. He thinks his responsibility is more towards keeping the peace and things in order more than dolling out punishment. He has even more choices to make and responsibilities as he literally has to make sure they survive/ration long enough to be saved. Or figure out how to save them himself. The correct issue with Curly and responsibility is the prioritization in his head. He sees the big picture and prioritizes that. He doesn't notice the little things that he should but it's not a active dismissal, perhaps not even conscious despite how dismissive he seemed. He takes too much responsibility, espcially in regards to Jimmy, and I think this situation is when he realizes that is also a bad thing as he can't "fix" all of his wrongs.

I think he'd regret not making a choice, because in the end this happened because he wouldn't directly choose who to comfort and help. He tried to help both and ended up doing nothing for either and letting Jimmy fuck them all over. In this scenario/au he's thinking about all the times he let Jimmy inadvertently make his choice, and how he chose to let it happen. He regrets all of it and would be so bitter that he was giving his choice up for so long. He chose wrong and it affected everyone. The only thing he'd find cathartic is the fucked up truth it will never happen again, not with Jimmy at least.

But he's not happy he's getting joy from that. I think it's a point not a single character other than Jimmy is depicted at deriving joy from another's pain. Even Swansea is being more sarcastic when he cheers on Curly about crashing the ship and ending his sobriety. He's happy Jimmy was forced to take responsibility, but this? He wanted him to learn a lesson and do something with himself, this is hollow in a way it's just embittering. Jimmy didn't get what he wanted, he can be happy about that but no one else did. This isn't justice or closure for Anya, he's stuck in a place he was so desperate to leave with even more pressure on his shoulders. Daisuke is just a kid and Swansea doesn't deserve this after all his year making himself a better man.

Like in his sections, Curly is preoccupied thinking about all the responsibilities he has, taking on things he shouldn't have to and trying to keep the peace when he doesn't have peace in his own mind.

[writing-mlm]

hi !! saw you write for criminal minds and would love to see something with spencer reid !! there aren’t enough male reader fics for him out there. personally i’m a sucker for reader being used as bait for an unsub with spencer getting jealous and taking care of reader afterwards if they get hurt. but no worries if you don’t want to write that specific scenario, i would just love to see any spencer content at all lol. i love your writing and hope you’re having a great day !!!

The stress of a married man

Summary: Spencer doesn’t like the fact that his husband is out there; his husband doesn’t like the fact that Spencer’s worrying. Pairing: Post-prison!Spencer Reid x Male!Reader wc: 2.4k Tags/warnings: reader used as bait, blood, attempted drugging, kidnapping a/n: while what im referring to won’t be a part 2, just now I wrote 2 separate fics for this request. i’ll try and push it out before next week and it’ll be around 20k words… and a marvel crossover…

Spencer didn’t want this. It’s stupid. It’s beyond stupid, it’s dangerous. He doesn’t care that there’s logic behind it— why should he? Not when you’re putting yourself in danger just to speed up a case, not when there are other solutions. 

He twists the cap of the marker as he strains, trying to think of said solutions. None are coming to his head; none that are useful anyway. He gnaws at the inside of his cheek when his eyes dart over to you; sitting in a chair getting your appearance tweaked to fit the victim pool more. A fake mole under your eye, changing your eyebrows a little bit. You’re wearing clothes they’d found in a nearby Ross, stuff that he knows you’re itchy in because they haven’t been washed yet. 

Your feet are pushed into shoes a size too small, he can tell because you’re sitting without putting pressure on them and they’re laced too loose. If you run with them they’ll go flying. Maybe that’s for the better, he quickly decides. 

He doesn’t see the irony in his worry. The same Spencer who walked into a train and took off his bulletproof vest when the UnSub had a loaded gun? The same Spencer who made Hotch kick the snot out of him? Caught himself on fire and in the middle of an explosion? Stab himself and frame the other guy in prison— that Spencer Reid? Yes. Because he’s him and you’re you. 

First name Spencer, middle name Risk himself for everyone else, last name Reid didn’t want you to hurt. He didn’t want you tossed in the back of some guy's van and hauled to wherever. He didn’t want you to experience the torture the other victims are going through firsthand. He just didn’t. 

But you’re smiling with Tara, agreeing to let Luke slip a tracker into the thrifted bracelet you planned on keeping because it looked nice. You’re listening to Emily’s specific instructions carefully, you’re understanding the dangers that you’re about to face. 

And dammit you’re still agreeing to go through with it. 

“Be careful,” He’s almost pleading— no, he is pleading. He absolutely cannot keep himself composed like the others are. He can’t. 

“I’ll be alive,” You tell him, messing with the clunky jacket that fits the same way a child wearing their dad's jacket fits. Lightly, you punch his shoulder. “Don’t go worrying about me; this is my specialty, Walter.” He nods, tucking his hair behind his ear because yes, it is. You had transferred from the Hostage Rescue Team after getting your degree. 

He doesn’t even care that you’re using his middle name. He doesn’t catch it, in fact. He just caught that you said you’d be alive when he asked you to be careful. 

“Just…” He closes his eyes, opening them when he pictures the worst. You’re staring at him from behind a paper cup of water, eyebrows raised because you’ve never seen him so worked up. So nervous before; it’s stressing you out. 

“I’ll come back, man. Don’t sweat it, please. You’re making me nervous,” Shit, he blinks an apology and wrings his hands. He doesn’t want to throw you off your game any more than he already has and backs off. 

You watch as he walks away, heading back to his drawing board. He messes with the marker cap again, this time chewing on it. It’s a set he’d gotten that day, only used by him, so he’s not worried about germs or anything of the sort. Meanwhile, you move over to JJ to go over the plan seeing as she’s going to be the bartender. 

The plan is simple. You’re going to hang out at a local bar, the one flying the highest American flag and that has some stupidly adorable couple trivia night going on but you aren’t going to play. You’re going to sit at the bar, rolling your eyes when someone gets an answer wrong because it was so obvious even a moron could get it right. You’re going to nurse a stein of sparkling apple juice dyed to look like beer. And you’re going to get the attention of the man killing people. 

Currently, you’re still on the eye-rolling part. The questions are hard, you have no idea what the fuck they’re talking about but you can hear Spencer through your earpiece saying the answers without catching himself. 

A guy approaches you as you’re taking another sip of your drink. A white man, probably in his fifties to sixties, dressed as if he was a professor, and on the shorter side. So far, this is the guy. You smile as he takes the newly vacant seat next to you, his eyes immediately traveling to the jacket around your chair. 

“Can you believe they don’t know the fifty-six element?” He huffs after no one has gotten the answer right and the announcer presses the loud buzzer. 

“Barium,” Spencer immediately tells you. 

“I know,” You scoff. “Who doesn’t know what barium is?” The man looks delighted by your answer and orders a beer. He doesn’t care what brand, just says beer and drums his fingers on the wood until JJ brings him one. He thanks her without any condensation, no sweetheart, or even a lingering look. He says a simple thank you, miss. And hands JJ a crisp ten-dollar bill. 

“The youth these days,” He shakes his head as half of the trivia goers don’t get the answer to who made the laws of motion right. “They’re spending too much time learning nonessential things like provocative dancing and texting abbreviations.”

“You’re so right, sir,” You sigh. “I’m glad my grandparents raised me better.”

“Oh, please,” He laughs, holding his chest. “Call me Vince. I’m sorry for forgetting my manners.” 

“It’s quite fine,” You smile. “I’m Kyle.”

“Well, Kyle,” He smiles back. This is the part where he’ll have you look away and he’ll slip something into your drink. You’ll look back and he’ll cheer for something. It’ll be strong based on the videos, you’ll be stumbling within three minutes. But even before that, he’ll talk you into leaving the bar so no one can notice. “Whaddya say about a game of pool?” He points to the pool table behind you. 

You look, spotting Luke and Emily pretending to pay attention to a group of frat guys playing a game. Spencer tells you that he’s slipped the pill inside and you turn back to Vince. 

“It seems crowded,” You shake your head. 

“Well, cheers to two smart guys left in a modern age of idiots?” He holds up his beer and you laugh, nodding with your bottle. The drinks and you pretend to drink it. You feel it on your upper lip, it’s fizzy and you swallow your spit to make it seem real. He watches until you set it down and runs his fingers over your ear. 

“How about some fresh air?” Pretending to be bashful, you get up and follow him out. He’s not aware that Luke and Emily follow, too. 

Spencer watches from the van's cameras as you walk out of the bar. Vince has his hand on your waist and he’s talking about things so well it’s almost convincing. But he’s saying surface-level facts as if he’s only read the summary but not the full text. He doesn’t like how Vince speaks into your neck and how his eyes seem to gleam when you start to pretend to stumble. 

You prepare yourself as you hear the red car. Because once you do, he charges you into the side and it’s enough to send someone who’d been drugged to the ground. So, you lay next to the car, pretending to fall in and out as he opens the trunk. You hear the duck tape being pulled and he steps back into your view. 

“All you youth are still driven by lust,” He says, holding your face and then applies enough to cover your mouth. He puts you on your stomach and your arms strain as he ties your hands behind you. Honestly, you’re glad he’s counting you as a youth. You know the youth surely doesn’t because boy, you’ve stopped getting carded at bars years ago. Your ankles are the next things he tapes before you’re tossed into the trunk. 

Your head hits a pipe and you groan as he slams the door closed. Rolling onto your side, you feel the car start and work on finding the knife in your pocket. The blade flicks up— it had been pinned to your pants just for this— and you work on cutting your way out. He hadn’t done a lot of layers, just three so you’re out of it quick enough. 

His car stops, at a red light, because the car is still buzzing and he’s still listening to music that hasn’t been on the radio since there was a transatlantic accent. You take the time to rub your forehead before the car lurches forward. Working on the ankle tape, you hear the line between you and the others cut. You’ve officially entered the dead zone. They’ll track you using the bracelet from here on out. 

—

It’s nearly an hour before the car stops. It’s been twenty since Spencer joined Luke in the SUV. Being trailed by local PD and two ambulances with their lights off, he messes with the FBI windbreaker jacket folded on his lap. It’s yours, it’s tailored to your arms and the collar is worn from where you continued to flip it up and down. You’ll probably want it, it’s chilly out and only getting colder. 

He hopes you’re only cold because of the weather. 

“It’s up ahead,” Luke warns before he parks the car. They can’t risk the UnSub hearing the cars so they’ll have to walk the rest of the way. He nods, fixing his gun as they climb out. The others are close behind and separate. JJ and Rossi go left, Emily and Tara go right, while he and Luke go straight. 

The driveway, if you could call it that, to the barn, is nothing more than grass that’s been driven over so many times it doesn’t grow straight anymore. They’re sickly shades of green compared to the bright green elsewhere. He looks up, seeing the car you’d gotten tossed into, and adjusts his grip on his gun. His heart hammers, pleading that you’re okay. 

A barn comes into view, the lights are on and Spencer shudders. There’s the smell of pigs nearby that makes his stomach twist before he changes his focus. The doors are ajar— some blood is on the handle. He doesn’t touch it, but it’s wet. He sees the light reflecting on it. Luke gives him a look, holds up three fingers and Spencer nods. 

He gets to two before the door gets thrown open. 

They jump back but it’s only you. You’re standing tall, one hand on the doorframe and the other gripping your pocket knife. His shoulders sag at the sight of you alive and able to stand before he looks at your face.

“You’re bleeding,” Spencer immediately has you in his grip, wiping the blood from your nose and lip with his shirt. It’s a lot, but considering it’s a nosebleed that’s to be expected. 

“Got dropped on my face,” You explain through a wince. “The others are in the barn— they need medical. I patched their wounds as best I could with whatever was lying around,” Luke nods and radios for the ambulance to make their way up. 

“And Vince?” Luke looks inside the barn and whistles. “Shouldn’t have been worried, then.” He knocks your shoulder with his fist and you wink.

“Yeah, he really wasn’t strong. He dropped me twice, once on my face and then on my back. I think my head hit a rock—“ Again, Spencer’s hands are on you as he checks the back of your head. Luke chuckles and you roll your eyes, messing with your wedding band tattoo. “I kicked the shit out of his face and then hogtied him.” You wait for a beat before looking over at Spencer. “No hogtie facts?”

“You have a shallow cut on your head, it’ll leave a small scar.” He says instead and opens up the jacket. “You should sit, we can deal with the others.” He drapes it over you and you smile, rubbing his matching tattoo. 

“Okay,” He smiles and watches as you walk to sit on a log before heading inside with Luke. He looks at the man still tied up and then looks at the knife in his hand before walking closer. The man is wriggling and trying to speak, both of which he makes a point to ignore. 

He saws at the tape before it lets go and quickly handcuffs Vince, ripping the tape off his mouth as hard and fast as he could manage with his shaking hands. Vince starts speaking but Spencer simply lugs him up from the ground in one fluid motion.

“Shut up.” He walks Vince out and tosses him over to the local PD before he finds you again. You’re helping the lady of the victims into the ambulance, setting the thick wool blanket over his shoulders. 

“I told you to sit down,” He sighs and you spin around, hands up to show you weren’t doing anything. “Baby, you’re injured, please.” He grabs your hands and kisses your neck, hoping it’ll sway you.

“EMT said it's surface level and just a little bleed, nothing to fuss about.” He ignores the first part as he steals a kit from the ambulance, checking the inside to make sure he has what he needs.

“I’m fussing,” He beckons you over with two fingers and you huff, following him to the SUV where he sets you in the passenger seat. You watch, head on the seat as he carefully puts the items on the dashboard and cleans his hand with wipes. 

“It’s cute that you’re worried,” You smile, eyes flickering between him putting on a pair of gloves and his face. “Maybe now you’ll stop being so reckless during cases.” Leaning over, you kiss his cheek but he moves back in for a kiss on the lips.

“I don’t know about that,” He smiles and gently holds your chin. “Let me know if it hurts too much, okay?” You roll your eyes but he doesn’t move so you sigh. 

“Yes, doctor,”

[whateverisbeautiful]

♥️ Ranking Richonne

#17: You Led Me Here (S7E12)

Of course Say Yes has found it’s way back to the list. 😊 This is such a powerful and important conversation between these two. And the scene is stunningly acted from them both. It’s moving every time I see it and while it’s heartbreaking that this van scene ended up having some foreshadowing with the fact that Rick and Michonne will in fact “lose” each other 2 seasons later, it also is such a beautiful declaration of how much they love, respect, trust, need, and believe in each other. Rick and Michonne have had such a valuable impact on each other and this scene depicts how aware they are of that...

First, I love how Rick wanting to extend this trip with Michonne came up consistently in so many Say Yes scenes. And it’s super sweet that he wants her to know how much he loved this time with her when he pulls the van over and says he could've gone a few more days and would have liked that.

He knows Michonne's feeling a lot rn, and he wants her to know that while that was a scary moment with the whole Walker/deer thing, the overall honeymoon trip has still been everything they could’ve wanted.

If they could’ve stayed on this run for a month, homeboy would have been down for it, I'm telling you lol. He so openly loves her and wants to be around her. He has for seasons, and I love that post-canon he now gets to more directly express that.

Then Rick just breaks my heart and boosts my respect even more when he admits to her that he hasn’t been sleeping thinking about what they lost and thinking about his friends.

I love that Rick is always so willing to be vulnerable with her and let her see his most human side.

Side note: Another thing I think about is how in the TWD pilot, Rick talks with Shane and shares that while in front of Carl, Lori asked Rick if he even cares about her and Carl at all. It’s a line that intentionally has some real irony to it, as throughout this series we see Rick go on to demonstrate just how much he unquestionably cares about and will do anything for his family. But clearly, because Rick and Lori weren’t actually each other’s person there’s this inability to truly understand each other. It’s really one of TV’s most compelling depictions of a fail-marriage if you ask me. And I noticed that Lori always felt like Rick didn’t open up and show his care enough for her liking, which just makes me think about how much Rick grew over the seasons and how much Michonne brought out a side of him that was so different than with Lori. You know Rick found his true person in Michonne because he is always so willing to express himself with her. He shares his fears, his pain, his secrets, his hopes, and especially his adoration for Michonne always. And I just love seeing that Rick knows he can let Michonne into every part of his heart. 😊

And Michonne is always so willing to be there for Rick in these vulnerable moments like the one in this van because, upon hearing this, she immediately reacts and puts her focus on him, allowing what he’s sharing to resonate even above the personal state she’s in.

You can just see how much she feels for Rick and doesn’t take it lightly that he’s confiding in her right now.

Ok so then this is when these two don’t take their foot off the gas when it comes to getting me emotional as heck. Cuz Rick opens up about Glenn which is already just heartbreaking to hear them talk about him, but then he says how Glenn saved him but he couldn’t save Glenn. And it’s just tragic. 😢

Like you really feel the weight of this loss when Rick says this, and it’s painful knowing he feels almost like he let Glenn down by having to just sit there and not save him in the lineup.

Then when Rick says “it’s normal I know that” cue my tears because seeing him get teary trying to grapple with these heavy emotions and remind himself it’s normal to be stuck on it is just so heartrending. Like the way Michonne is looking at him at this moment is how I’m looking too. You just feel for the guy. 😢

(Another side note: I’ve seen people dismiss Say Yes as filler, but I actually think there’s important things that happen in this ep. I mean, even if the episode was just a time of levity for Rick and Michonne to enjoy their love and have some well-deserved alone time on their honeymoon before the war, I’d personally still have been sat and satisfied. But regarding the series, this is where we get valuable insight into two very important characters' mindsets about the looming war, their recent losses like our baby Glenn, and about life, which is necessary to see imo. And this particular Say Yes scene plants a seed for the show's future as we see Rick essentially choose a successor for who he thinks is most fit to lead the people if something were to happen to him. Which is notable. And, of course, Rick's choice of who should lead the others forward is his own leader - his exceptional wife. 🤗)

When Rick says they went through something that’s not cured, Michonne does just the most heartfelt thing as she softly places her hand on his face and whispers, "Rick, I’m sorry."

I adore the way she comforts him. The way they always hear each other and are present with each other. The way she sees him feeling so much and just instinctually reaches for him and expresses empathy. It’s beyond beautiful. 

And then it’s Rick’s turn to do the sweetest thing ever when he looks at her with so much love in his eyes and takes her hand and kisses it. It’s similar to when she did the same and kissed his hand in a very special scene earlier in the episode (oh we’re gonna talk about it 😋).

The way Rick cherishes Michonne is so evident as he kisses her hand and continues to hold it close to his chest. I’ve always adored how Rick and Michonne are these fearless warriors to everyone else but with each other that’s their baby who they would do anything to care for and protect. And that profound love for the human in front of them was on display in these two gestures from them. 

Rick tells her how they’re going to fight the saviors. He says that’s what happens next, and they’re gonna lose people, maybe a lot of them. I’ve always felt like there’s this layered sadness in Rick finally having to talk to Michonne about the real possibility of this war not ending how they hope it will.

Because throughout this ep, Rick so enjoyed seeing Michonne happy and he wanted to stay present in this positive bubble with her. But as the trip concludes, and as Michonne has now learned that losing Rick could potentially make her empty out to the point of dropping her katana in the face of walkers, Rick now knows he has to let talk of unfortunate possibilities in this war enter into their bubble.

And while it’s not fun to talk about, I appreciate how he still holds her hand throughout this cuz he’s comforting her while knowing this topic is not something she or he really wants to consider. But as the leaders, it’s a discussion that has to be had.

Then Rick says how they may even lose each other. Which again, how Michonne reacts is how I react because we are not trying to hear that.

She turns away and stays quiet because both her winning mentality and her love for Rick won’t even allow her to entertain the idea of losing the love of her life.

But Rick isn’t wrong. It’s possible. And I just like that he puts them in their own category because there are the people they love - and they really do love their people - but the idea of losing each other specifically is a very unique type of devastating for them. 

Rick says, "Even then...it’ll be worth it" and, watching it back, maybe it’s just me but I really do hear something in his voice that says he’s not 100% convinced about that point. But he’s trying to believe it and help her believe it too because he knows how distraught she became thinking she lost him and wants to remind her the fight has to continue even if she’s without him.

And if I wasn’t shedding big tears before...this next part happens.

After shaking her head at the notion of losing each other, Michonne starts to open up as she says, “When I thought that…” and just the trailing off alone is gonna break me every time. Because she can't even bring herself to say the words of thinking he was gone.

And then Michonne pauses and turns to him and, in the most devastatingly beautiful and vulnerable way, says, “I can’t lose you.”

When I tell you I react to that moment like I’ve never seen it before every time. My heart breaks every time. 😭 The love she has for that man is just so deep, and that was so extremely clear in this moment. I’m shedding a tear every time I hear it idc. 

Like wow. It’s such a big deal for Michonne to feel this and express this. She was the ultimate lone wolf when we were introduced to her. This was a woman who had lost so much so abruptly at the refugee camp and felt she had to then keep people at a bit of a distance to avoid being heartbroken yet again.

To see how far she’s come to have opened herself up so fully to team family, and to the Grimes family, and particularly to Rick to the point that now she loves him so much she feels she can’t lose him. It's so meaningful.

And this actually speaks to Michonne's strength because her strength isn't just derived from her katana or her ability to fight and survive - Michonne's strength is also radiantly reflected in her willingness to be vulnerable and open her heart up again even despite the risks.

When I tell you this well-rounded character is an inspiration. I stay looking at Michonne (& Danai) like...

And then y’all, those magnets seem to be kicking in cuz Rick is getting as close as he can to her to remind her that he hasn’t forgotten what she said when she asked him what kind of life they had just surrendered. I love that one thing Rick will never do is forget Michonne or anything she's ever said or done. 😊

Rick expresses that he agrees it wasn’t a life, but what they did while out on this run (and I do think he means everything they did on this run 😋) and fighting for their kids and the communities is what living really is.

It’s precious seeing Michonne nod through tears as she agrees with him about how making a future for their daughter, Judith, and Glenn and Maggie’s baby and fighting the fight is living. Rick repeats her words from earlier in the ep by bringing up 'fighting the fight' which is sweet.

Again, Richonne tones for the win as Rick tells Michonne that she is the one who showed him that’s living. I love that he always gives her so much credit and acknowledges the positive influence she has on him. Not only does he trust her to have this power in his life but also to straight up tell her she has this power in his life because Michonne would never use her influence for bad or to manipulate.

Rick says she can lose him, and Michonne and I really just be on the same wavelength lol, cuz when she turns and says "no," I felt that. Like even though she knows they have to fight for the future, she still loves Rick so much that she doesn’t want losing him to be on the table. 

But Rick says she can and that he can lose her. As I’ve noted before, it’s def meant in a literal sense of a physical possibility of losing each other rather than an emotional ability to lose each other and be fine. 

He softly places his hand on her as he shares they can lose friends, and people they love, and while we hadn’t heard 'I love You’s' by this point, you still just knew how aware they were of how in love they are on this trip.

Interestingly, Rick says, "it’s not about us anymore." The "anymore" makes me think it's said that way because at one point it was somewhat about them for Rick. Not losing Michonne, Carl, and Judith and having more time with them was a big reason why Rick didn't want to fight beforehand.

Then it is a very big deal when Rick tells Michonne that she’ll have to lead the others forward if he doesn’t make it because she’s the one who can. He says it with such conviction, and I adore how much he wholeheartedly believes in her. 

Michonne is truly so perfect in Rick's eyes and so capable. They are each other's biggest fans in the best way.😊

After all this time spent as the head leader, Rick entrusts Michonne most to pass the baton to in his absence. They’re such equals, and he knows that she can carry the torch and continue doing what he has dedicated his life to doing - which is leading the others forward. 

It’s powerful and also heartbreaking foreshadowing that she’ll have to do just that when he’s taken away. But seeing Michonne protect their ungrateful community post-Rick’s departure was heartwarming to me because it felt like her honoring what Rick shared with her in this van in 7.12.

Michonne asks how he knows she’s the one who can and then Andy just perfectly delivers the line, “Because you led me here” Powerful. I adore that the scene ends on this. It is so moving and so fitting for Rick to acknowledge the way Michonne has led him here.

Michonne has truly led him in so many ways, and I love that Rick is fully cognizant of that and seems so happy to look at her and let her know the immense impact she has. Rick is always going to give Michonne her flowers. Always. 😌💐

It’s great seeing Rick get to lift Michonne up and instill some empowerment, honesty, and encouragement to her with this whole conversation. They're both so good at speaking right into the other's heart.

It was a beautifully acted scene, a powerful conversation, and also very telling to both how Rick and Michonne feel about each other and how they’ll proceed when they eventually do get unwillingly separated.

And thank goodness losing each other wasn’t permanent and these magnetic soulmates will finally get to be back in each other's arms once again. It’s where they’re most meant to be. 🥰 

[lavendertowerarchives]

I'm honestly worried about who's stalking me. Who sees what I post (on this account or my main), who knows where I am, who looks at my silly discord statuses, who keeps tabs on my responses and their timings...

I'm not worried about someone stalking me. I'm worried about someone not "stalking" me. I use "stalking" lightly since I don't seriously consider "looking at a friend's posts/status" to be stalking. More specifically, I mean I worry about who exactly sees what I write.

I feel like I'm constantly on display when I'm online. I understand that everyone, everywhere, has a slim chance to notice what I'm doing. Anyone I've ever friended on discord can see my stupid little joke statuses. I unfortunately enjoy being displayed like this; I get a chance to look the way I want. Instead of some atrophied meatbag with cloth on it, I can look however I want. How people see me is their deal, but how I show myself off is mine.

It follows that I don't really care if someone does see a weird little thing I made, or an oblique reference to them specifically. Obscurity is not a form of security. My issue is when they may not see what I did. Anything I post I intend for every single follower to see, read, and understand. This is not feasible. This is not probable, nor is it even remotely friendly to ask someone to read everything I write. It still stings me to know that they may not look at the shit I do. There are some very pointed references to people in my posts, here or on my main, and I hope they notice or at least care.

Inversely, I hope the people reading whatever I write don't think I'm being passive aggressive. I really fucking hope that nobody thinks "oh, this is about me." Of course, it's rather conceited to believe that people read this shit and immediately think "oh he's talking to me," but oh well.

If I mention "oh man, I really wish I had someone to talk to right now" or "none of my friends like me" or "nobody ever hits me up," that shit's just a fact of life. I blame nobody for not reaching out to me, or not responding on the few occasions I reach out. I don't intend to shame, mention, accuse, or refer to anyone. More often than not, I'm just depressed and my brain is yelling stupid shit at me, causing me to genuinely believe that nobody talks to me. I need to learn to never trust myself.

The irony here is that I made this entire blog as a way to post shit like that without anyone seeing it. Now that I've engaged with people here, I risk them reading my posts (a revolutionary idea: followers see posts), therefore risking them thinking I'm talking about them... I can't straighten my mind out enough to elaborate. I just complain a lot. I miss everyone the moment they stop talking to me, the moment they take more than two minutes to respond, the moment they whip out their phone to respond to someone else... Yeah, no, I just get attached too easily.

The worst part is that sometimes a person will remind me of a Thing by doing something (whether it's nice, weird, thought-provoking, or sends me spiraling), and that Thing is the only real reference I have. In a way, yes, I am talking about them. More accurately, I'm talking about a pattern I observed recently.

All of this can be avoided with a little trust in the average friend. A little bit of trust that they can use proper judgement (which I can't, so I dunno how that'd look), or not see/read my posts (understandable), or to tell me directly that they noticed an issue (which I also severely struggle with). I pinball between not caring and caring very deeply. Oh well, I'm not changing how I post.

[naga-raja-suresh]

"Don't lump me in with whoever else you are thinking of. You don't know what I think of you because you don't ask, you just like to tell. But I'm delighted to hear that you enjoyed your youth." Suresh folded his hands in front of him as he listened quietly. "Maybe when I finally grow up I too will get that opportunity." He stated with dry irony. Considering his age and the fact that his place was as the living avatar of his god. Suresh knew that Callum had a whole life of experiences that Suresh knew little to nothing about. But Callum did make it easy to poke at him even while Suresh respected him as another leader.

Suresh frowned at Callum, "I do not think you are an invalid. And I have not used the word paranoid. You did. I just suggested a more cautious approach." The Naga regarded the other coolly as Callum shifted into passive threats and insinuations. "Besides myself? No. None that come to mind right now." Suresh was calm as he unfolded his hands and lifted them palms up, "Well, would you like it to be understood between us that we will contractually warn one another or not? You can't have it both ways. But I'll leave it up to you." Only a fool would show their hand to someone that would gladly stab them in the back given half a chance. "Just so I understand since my idea of what ancient is might differ from yours. How old should they be for me to warn you?"

Suresh was aware that Callum needed his help, or this conversation would have never happened. And that it probably galled the shifter something fierce to need the help. He nodded slightly, "I vaguely remember something like that. All of us immortals keep very, very light tabs on each other over the millennia. But which came first? The catastrophe or the blood witch?" Suresh nodded at the question, reaching up he placed two ringed fingers on his own chest and tapped it lightly, "He carries blood on him. Vials in his coat pocket and one here... a necklace." He offered the information freely.

"You all love to make me out like I'm some old devotee that's never lived. I grew up in the 20's, I had my fun. Opium, cocaine, morphine, copious amounts of alcohol. I even loved once. The key difference is I grew up and accepted my place." He had had his rebellion phase, settling in by his late twenties. Just because his life wasn't as- social as the other two didn't mean Callum had never known fun. Now his enjoyable time was simply doing his duties and perhaps a kill or two as a stress relief, he'd probably have to go on a hunt as a stress relief after the day's events.

"Yes, a meeting where I can be told how paranoid I am like an invalid. I don't have any interest in that, thank you. And it only makes me wonder what else you've hidden, Lal. Any other ancient beings? A deity? Some king or queen hidden in the shadows? Just don't be surprised when I don't warn you next time." Fair play and that was all. The shifter would prefer to deal with the situation alone but he hadn't been able to in his prime. "What you should know is that when I tracked him through history before, he had a nasty habit of showing up in catastrophes. Wars, natural disasters. Plenty of bloodshed for a blood witch. What blood do you think he's anticipating this time?".

[bestintheparsec]

Falling

Frankie Morales x f!Reader

Summary: Frankie’s stuck in his head about you. This definitely works as a standalone but I wrote it as a sequel to A Little Bit of Sugar

A/N: So I tried something different when I wrote this one - it’s unlike anything else I’ve written, but I hope you like it and I hope this brings some warmth to start off your new year!

Words: 4.1k

Warnings: a disgusting amount of softness (I apologize), angst but not really?, one minor mention of blood/injury

~

Frankie matches his stride to yours as you walk down the gravel path back to your place. He tries to pay attention to something, anything, other than the nervous flickering of warmth in his chest—how you pull your coat tighter around yourself when a breeze hits, the sound of your boots clacking on the ground with each step, the colorful holiday lights nearby that cast a subtle glow on your hair.

It doesn't help.

He knows the directions well enough now—you’ve only been on a few dates but he’s walked you home every time. You look up at him and say something that makes him laugh, and he tries to let that feeling of ease course through him, willing it to last longer.

It doesn't.

He’s afraid he’ll blow it—the fact that he’s been on more than one date with you is already more than he expected. Hell, the fact that you'd even wanted to see him again beyond the coffee shop you'd met at was more than he expected.

Each time after your evenings together, the only thing he’s given and taken has been a quiet embrace, a question if you’d like to meet up again next week. And each time, you’ve said yes. But it hasn’t been anything other than that. Just an exchange of shy smiles, fleeting gazes, and maybe an awkward laugh as you wave and he walks off.

Frankie huffs quietly—chuckles at the irony of being beside himself with happiness while simultaneously being unable to act like a normal human being around you. He hasn’t felt this comfortable around anyone new in a long time. Even though it’s only been a few evenings he’s spent with you, he knows himself and the difference in the way he’s been falling asleep a little faster every night, the way he feels the rest of the world and its problems melt away on these few evenings, just for a while.

And that’s exactly why he doesn’t want to fuck this up. What if you don’t feel the same way—if you’re only hanging out with him as a friend? He shakes his head—that can’t be right. Because that brightness in your eyes when you look at him, how you smile and glance down at the ground when he tells you he enjoyed the night—he knows he mirrors it all. So he can’t be crazy. That’s what he keeps telling himself, anyways.

You break him out of the brief reverie, mentioning a place you think he’d like to go next time. Next time. He breaks out a grin—he really would like it. His hand sways as he walks, lightly brushing against the hem of the back of your jacket. He wants to take your hand, feel its warmth in his, bring it to his lips for the lightest of kisses. But he can't do it. Too soon, he tells himself.

After you’ve both passed the same familiar sights along the path, you finally make it to your house. You turn to face him, and Frankie feels that nervousness creep up on him again. You have that smile that makes him melt lingering on your lips, your hands shoved into your pockets as you look at him, an awkward silence falling between you as you shift your weight from one foot to another. Fuck, what is wrong with him?

He tells you again that he had a wonderful time, a genuine softness in his eyes and heat in his cheeks. He feels his heart about to pound out of his chest. You tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, telling him the same and how you look forward to seeing him again. Those damn butterflies again. They seem to give him a nudge, almost as impatient as he is. Something about the glowing street lights and joyful ambiance nudges him a little harder—practically whacks him upside the head to just do it.

And then…

He murmurs a curt good night, turning to head back the way he came, not looking at whatever expression falls over your face as he does.

Frankie makes it exactly three steps before pausing where he is. He bites the inside of his cheek, briefly closing his eyes before turning back around—you’ve already started turning toward the door.

“Wait,” Frankie says abruptly, his voice more gruff than he expects as he calls your name. You turn and meet his eyes again, looking at him questioningly as he walks quickly up to you, stopping when he's inches away, before he can change his mind.

His hand trembles as he moves it to gently cradle your face, your surprised but soft, half-lidded gaze threatening to knock the air out of him.

“Can I...kiss you?” he murmurs, and before he can even think about what he’s just asked, your lips are on his, his hands on your waist pulling you in closer as he kisses you; delicate, light kisses of his warm lips to yours, a contrast from the biting winter air that surrounds you both.

~

Frankie’s bringing in some firewood from the yard when he sees you pulling up in front of his house. He’s spent the last thirty minutes chopping up some extra wood to make his house more cozy for your date tonight. Really it's just takeout and a movie, but something feels...different about it. You’ve gone to various places for your dates, but never his actual home, not for long. It’s been a rainy, cold week, so Frankie suggested staying in tonight, which you more than happily agreed to.

The rain has lightened up a little bit, slightly dampening your clothes as you get out of the car and grab your things. Frankie feels his pulse start to quicken, ignoring the mist of cool rain on his skin. God, even in this weather, you’re breathtaking.

Truthfully, he’d been thrilled at the idea of having you spend a date night in his home. But he didn’t anticipate the way he was more nervous this morning than he ever had been with you before, and he didn't have a clue as to why. He’s spent the day trying to make sure everything was perfect—cleaning up, making sure he had the food planned, spending a little longer picking out his clothes earlier, everything. Is this plaid button-up too much? Too little? It’s been driving him crazy, and he doesn’t understand it. His home is his safe place—a happy place, if he has such a thing. He wants it to be that way for you, too.

For a split second he imagines you with him at home; not just tonight, but always. Coming home to each other. Staying warm under the covers at night, fresh cups of coffee in the morning. Just as quickly, the thought disappears. It isn’t right. You’re good; too good to him, for him. How can he ever live up to what you deserve?

The slam of your car door brings him back to reality.

Messing with the firewood tonight probably wasn’t the best idea. Your smile fades when you get closer to him, a concerned frown on your face as you ask what happened to him.

He’d had a little accident when cutting up the wood earlier, giving himself a gash on his cheek, which started to bleed. A lot. It probably looks worse than it actually is. Because tonight is the perfect night for you to not be able to do anything right, Francisco. He was going to clean it up after he got done before you got here, but it’d taken him longer than he’d expected to get everything finished.

He brushes it off, telling you it’s no big deal, just a scratch. Not worth a fuss. Which you don’t buy, at all. Of course. By now you’ve both been standing in the drizzling rain for long enough that your hair has been matted down on your head and your clothes are starting to get soaked through.

He quickly gestures for you to come inside, the warmth of his home immediately comforting against the frigid chill of the rain.

“Frankie, please let me help with that,” you tell him as soon as he shuts the door behind you.

“It’s fine, it’s nothing—” he starts, but you cut him off, telling him you don’t mind and that dinner can wait. Way to start off the evening right, he swears silently at himself as he goes to grab the kit. He pulls a towel off the shelf, too, then heads back out to you in the living room. Wrapping the towel around you first, he takes a seat beside you in front of the fireplace and hands you the kit.

You start picking through it for what you need, but he stops you for a moment. Taking the towel off your shoulders, he carefully wipes away at the beads of rain on your skin while you watch silently. He clenches his jaw, purposefully avoiding your gaze. Once he’s finished, you murmur a soft thank you and he nods once, letting you get back to what you were doing.

With a gentle hand, you start to clean up the cut. Your fingers trace along his skin as though he’s made of glass; maybe he is right now. But Frankie doesn’t even flinch—he can barely focus on anything except you. Those kind eyes, your pursed lips as you concentrate on the task at hand...There’s definitely something wrong with him, and it’s not the wound on his face.

Before he knows it, you’re done, tucking everything back into the kit. “There…” you whisper softly, trailing off as your eyes examine your work, your fingers still lingering on his cheek.

Clean hands on broken skin.

“Th—There,” Frankie repeats, barely audible. He sees that twinkle in your eyes again, like maybe you’re distracted by other things, too. He feels his chest constrict.

This isn’t the first time he’s felt like he’s been giving you the short end of the stick. He bites the inside of his cheek, glancing down at the floor. He’s done things; bad things. It’s not fair to keep this...relatively new relationship going, when in the end he has nothing else to give except himself.

But as much as he feels like he's stringing you along for nothing...everything just falls into place when he’s around you. And the way you make him feel, it's like he has everything worth holding onto. That has to mean something, right?

He clears his throat, his mind coming back to you. You watch him with patient eyes, slowly removing your hand from his face. He immediately misses your touch.

“I—” he blurts out, taking your hand in his, gripping it for a second before letting go. But you take it again, the lightest of smiles on your lips, and Frankie feels warmth rush into his face again.

Before he can ramble any further, he leans into you, taking your face in his hands and presses his lips to yours. It surprises you at first, but you move closer to him, too. The kisses start out slow, tender, but then deepen as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you even closer. You reciprocate, running your fingers through his dampened hair as his lips move urgently, desperately against yours, like this can’t last forever. He doesn’t want to think about that. For now, he wants to get lost in you.

When you finally break away from each other, it’s too soon; it’s always too soon. Frankie’s breathless, resting his forehead on yours, his hand tracing along your cheek, down to your jaw and then resting along your neck.

He lets a few seconds pass, trying to gather himself before speaking up again. “I...was going to say...I hope you like what I picked up for dinner,” he whispers, shyness suddenly coming over him.

You chuckle at his attempted change of subject, crinkles under your eyes that make his heart soften even more. When you move your hand onto his chest, he hopes you can’t feel his heartbeat pounding.

“It’s—I’m sure it’s perfect, Frankie. Whatever you chose.” You smile at him, and it’s then that Frankie wonders just how long he’s been a goner.

~

Frankie makes his way up the path to your house, the same one he's taken countless times now.

You’d told him to let himself in once he got to your place, so he opens the door after a few knocks and calls out your name. You don’t answer but the lights are on, and he catches the subtle smell of something burning, followed by some shuffling noises coming from the kitchen. Dinner is at your house tonight, as you’ve both grown fond of staying in rather than being out and having to deal with the bustling crowds.

He takes off his hat and calls your name again, a bit of concern in his voice this time as he smooths down his hair. You finally respond with a rushed muttering of acknowledgment and he follows your voice to the kitchen. When he gets there, he finds you hunched over, muttering some profanities as you pull a tray out of the oven.

You set it down and tuck the stray strands of hair behind your ear before turning to look at him. Frankie smiles, that same giddy grin he can’t seem to hold back whenever he sees you—but it drops a little when he takes in the expression on your face now. You look disheveled and exhausted, although you give him a half-hearted smile.

You and Frankie have been with each other on some of those longer days—the days where everything feels out of place. For many of those days you didn’t even know it was that kind of day for him. But it’s on those days that he’s found comfort, safety in you. Little things, big things; none of it matters when he’s with you.

“Are you okay? What happened?” he asks, moving closer to wrap his arms around you and place a soft kiss onto your head. When you pull away, you motion at the tray you’d just taken out.

You tell him you’d been baking pastries when you got home—his favorite kind—a surprise for when he got here. But it was a long day at work, and you were drained, so you’d decided to take a nap while everything was in the oven...and then proceeded to sleep through the timer.

“Everything’s ruined,” you tell him dejectedly, followed by a soft apology.

Frankie’s been so focused on the fact that you went out of your way to do something for him that he barely catches on to how upset you are.

“Hey—wait, no. Nothing’s ruined,” he reassures you, his voice instantly sweeter than sugar as he places his hands on your shoulders, then moves to cup your cheek.

Frankie thinks of the times you’d been together and things hadn’t gone according to plan—he’s not known for being the smoothest man alive, after all. Times where it was one mishap or another—but then he'd see that playful glint in your eyes, and you would make him laugh about it until his insides ached, and it would make him feel like nothing had gone awry at all.

“It’s just that...I wanted to do something special for you. It’s not much and it’s stupid, but—” you peer at him with those eyes that make him weak in the knees, and Frankie notices that same grounding warmth appearing in his chest again.

It's not the first time he's felt unbelievably lucky.

“Hey, it’s not stupid, silly,” he repeats, chuckling when you gesture dramatically at the burnt pastries on the table. “You didn’t need to do anything for me...you really made my favorites?” A gentle smile plays on his lips.

You laugh softly and nod, getting a grin from him in return.

He runs the pad of his thumb along your cheek, nonchalantly stating that you can make another batch and that he can help—you smile back, even though you both know he’s not much of a baker.

His eyes trace delicately over your features for the first time since he got here. He sees the patches of flour in your hair, on your clothes, and his eyes soften. He can’t believe you’re his —that he’s yours.

He thinks of how your nose crinkles when you smile after teasing him; how he’ll send you a text during the day when something makes him think of you, only to realize you’d never left his thoughts at all. The way the guys have been well-meaningly teasing him for acting differently lately. The way he hasn’t felt right lately—but not in a bad way—just different; like he was numb for a long time and now the novocaine has worn off.

And he realizes he’s fallen completely in love with you.

~

It was a rough night for Frankie. He’s been there before—nights where his mind is louder than the sharpest rings of thunder and he can’t get it to shut up, where all else around him seems hopeless, lost.

Dawn is just barely starting to peek through between the cracks in the curtains when Frankie opens his eyes, unsure of how long he was out for but knowing it couldn’t have been long. He closes them again, a quiet sigh escaping his lips as he tries to avoid coming back to his senses.

But he does come back; back to the cool air on his exposed neck above the blanket, to the weight of himself sinking into the plush mattress. And he finds himself next to something warm—you. His eyes flutter open again, taking in the form of your silhouette in the dark as you lay next to him, fast asleep.

He’d called you. He didn’t want to—it was late, later than it usually hits him. But you picked up, and you seemed to know before he said a single word. He didn’t even tell you what was wrong at first, just muttered profuse apologies laced through broken whispers. He really didn’t hear much of what you said after that—but just hearing your voice was enough. It’s always enough, more than he ought to have. I’ll be there soon, you told him. You hung up before he could argue otherwise.

That’s how you ended up here, in his arms, though it started off with him in yours.

He can’t see much of you, but Frankie marvels at the way your quiet breaths steady his own heartbeat, how the fabric of your shirt falls delicately over the curve of your waist where his hand rests now.

He wraps his whole arm over you, gently pulling you flush against him as you unconsciously tuck yourself into the space below his neck. His mind is still heavy, but simultaneously he feels safe. Home.

He holds you like this for a while longer, savors the warmth of you against him, the silent peace that washes over him. He doesn’t know if he’ll fall asleep again but he tries, counting his exhales as his fingers trace along your back.

It’s not long before you stir a bit in his arms, rubbing your eyes as you recall where you are. You put a hand on his chest, then move it to hold his face as you whisper some sleepy words of love and reassurance. They’re words he’s said to you time and time again, as if they’re in limited supply. And you tell him just as often, but he’s always found it hard to let himself believe it.

You always seem to know exactly what he needs before he realizes it himself—even if it’s the darker hours of the night—and  you’re always ready to drop everything just for him...it’s everything he would do for you, although he’d do so much more if he possibly could.

Frankie knows now. It’s here in the dark, with you in the fragile space in his arms and the hollows of his heart that he knows—you love him just as much as he loves you.

Your groggy voice fills the silence. “I’ve always wondered ‘why not me’,” you murmur, still half-asleep.

He caresses your face with the back of his hand, a gentle smile as he asks what you’re talking about.

“Everyone around me...It seemed like everyone was finding their person. But never me,” you repeat, yawning as you blink your eyes open.

“But I know now...” you trail off, moving to rest your head on his chest. “I never found anyone else because I was supposed to meet you.”

You say it so casually, so calmly but it doesn’t hit Frankie with any less force. You’re too drowsy to think anything of it, but these words will carry him for a long time. Wherever he is, he’s never more at home than when he’s with you.

You don’t add anything else, simply draping your arm over him and moving in closer as you curl up and try to find sleep again. He’s unable to find the right words to respond, simply leaning down to press a soft, lingering kiss to the top of your head.

Frankie reaches down and pulls the blanket over both of your shoulders, shutting his eyes once again and tries to join you in that state of slumber. It’ll be easier, he thinks. You’re here, and he’s home. And you fit perfectly in his arms—you always do.

~

“Okay, just keep them closed,” Frankie says with underlying excitement in his voice.  He’s standing behind you with his large hands over your eyes, and you’re unable to peek through them.

You laugh with confusion. “Seriously, what are you doing, Frankie?”

He doesn’t answer, just shushes you and carefully guides you forward, helping you sit down on the bar stool by the kitchen counter.

“Okay, okay. You good here?” He asks, resisting and chuckling when you try to pry his hands away.

“Yes, Francisco, now move your giant hands,” you demand playfully.

He releases his hands and you look around, still confused as your eyes fall on the countertop in front of you. “A...cup of coffee?”

He’s still standing behind you, leaning over your shoulder. “Not just a cup of coffee,” Frankie huffs with feigned offense. “Coffee from the shop we met at.”

You chuckle again, still perplexed, but he just puts his hands on your shoulder. “See if you can guess the drink,” he tells you, his tone entirely mischievous.

You raise your brows, but wrap your hands around the paper cup, letting it warm your hands and inhaling the familiar scent of your favorite shop. Finally taking a sip, you concentrate and try to pick out anything that might be different about it, but come up with nothing.

“This is my usual order…” you shake your head, taking another sip and trying to figure out what he’s being so sneaky about.

Still nothing.

You give up, setting the cup down and spinning around on the stool to face him. “Frankie, what—”

But he’s not right behind you—he’s on one knee on the floor. You let out a tiny gasp and swear your heart stops beating as your mind goes from confusion to realization to a complete flooding of surprised emotions. You slide off the stool and stand in front of him, trying not to burst into tears while failing to maintain your composure. Frankie has this timid but equally giddy grin on his face as he looks up at you, holding the black velvet box in his hand.

Frankie’s so distracted watching your reaction that he completely forgets that he needs to say something now, and his mind seems to finally register the apprehension in the rest of his body. The grin changes into a nervous smile as he inhales, then exhales.

“I—fuck,” he trails off, trying to gather his thoughts again as you chuckle with amusement. “I...you know you’re the world to me, and then some,” he starts, a tremor in his voice. “I’ll spend the rest of my life loving you, and I…You make me a better person—hell, you make me want to be a better person…” he continues to ramble as you move closer before dropping to the floor with him, throwing your arms around him.

“You’d make me the happiest man alive if...wait, I mean, I’m already the happiest man alive, but I would be even happier…” His supportive arms embrace you as he laughs, full of relief, and murmurs into your hair between your sobs. “...if you would do me the honor of being my wife.”

He’s so beside himself that he’d missed all the times you’d repeatedly said yes while in his arms, so you tell him again, his face in your hands, and he beams as you pull away to look at him.

Once he slips the dainty, understated ring onto your finger, you pull him back in, his lips meeting yours as he holds you like this is the only place he was ever meant to be—much like how you’d found each other in that quaint little coffee shop what seems like forever ago.

~

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[pesewla]

Thank you for the request, @bout-to-snap <3 

“This is why I don’t trust him!” Mu Qing fumed. “He’s literally the Lord of the Ghost Realm, Your Highness…”

Xie Lian allowed a small, relaxed smile to grace his lips. He was mediating a fight between Mu Qing, Feng Xin, and Hua Cheng for what seemed like the thousandth time. Though newly renovated, Puqi Shrine was still too small for these massive quarrels, and Xie Lian dreaded the property damage that would ensue if their swords were drawn.

Given all that had happened – the destruction of the heavens and defeat of Jun Wu – why were these three still at each other’s throats?

“I thought we were past this,” Xie Lian sighed. “We don’t get to see each other all the time, so can we please not fight?”

“Exactly, we don’t see get to see each other all the time, so can’t we talk to you in private?” Feng Xin said, fidgeting a little.

Xie Lian looked confused. “About what?”

“You expect me to walk away when you’ve just called me the scum of the earth?” Hua Cheng said coolly, examining his nails. “Gege, these servants are no good.”

“We’re not his servants!” Mu Qing exclaimed. Xie Lian thought it sounded like he was about to say “anymore” at the end, but cut off his speech abruptly, making the outburst awkward and clunky.

“Are you sure?” Hua Cheng asked skeptically. “Because when you’re with him, it’s like 800 years never happened, you can be his ever-most-loyal-servants again. The roleplaying is disgusting, and doesn’t absolve you from guilt.”

Xie Lian sensed the atmosphere in the shrine shift. He stepped forward again and raised his hands placatingly. “San Lang – “

“And what would you know?” Feng Xin demanded. “You can’t possibly understand what we’ve been through, at the time you were merely a mortal child.”

“I understand that you abandoned Dianxia when he was most vuln –“

“San Lang,” Xie Lian said. Hua Cheng’s lips instantly froze at the warning in Xie Lian’s tone; it was a lilt and a dangerous flavor that Xie Lian hardly used on anyone, and never on Hua Cheng.

“…”

“Why can’t they know, gege?” Hua Cheng asked softly. “Don’t you think they deserve to know? Frankly, their ignorance offends me.”

Feng Xin and Mu Qing had fallen silent, too, their faces both a few shades lighter. The word abandon seemed to always have that effect on them. Then Feng Xin regained his voice. “Ignor – know what? Taizi Dianxia, just what…”

Xie Lian had folded his arms, his mouth drawn into a line. “It’s old history,” he sighed. “There’s no need to bring things like this up. Do not shame me.”

“Shame you? When that came to visit you, he dismissed your fears as insan –“

Hua Cheng’s voice cut off for a moment, and the temperature in Puqi Shrine seemed to drop. Because, at that moment, an expression entirely foreign to Xie Lian flitted across his face: rage. Neither Mu Qing nor Feng Xin had seen him make that expression since his third ascension, and it didn’t suit him well.

It was gone as soon as it arrived, and Xie Lian’s characteristically peaceful smile returned in its stead. However, the faces of his two ex-subordinates were already white as sheets. Hua Cheng stepped toward, placing a hand on Xie Lian’s shoulder as if to hold him up.

“Dianxia, are you mad… at us?” Feng Xin whispered.

Xie Lian looked at him strangely, as if he had asked a very bizarre question indeed. “No… Not you.”

Hua Cheng snorted, as if he was thinking, too bad. Xie Lian’s face was soft. “In any case, I’m quite tired, so I think I will retire for the night. Please make yourselves at home.”

“Wh – you can’t – after –“ Mu Qing sputtered.

Feng Xin’s eyes were round. “Dianxia, does that mean… That time with White No-Face, when we were on the run… Was it really…?”

Xie Lian had started towards his chambers, but after being addressed, his shoulders tightened infinitesimally. Then, he turned back to the trio, his face still serene. “Yes.”

As if he’d been punched in the gut, Feng Xin slouched over. Mu Qing looked baffled.

“I didn’t tell you this because I knew you’d blame yourself. Yet, in the end, the only one who sinned was me. So, please, do not inquire further into this matter.”

With a nod and another smile, Xie Lian vanished into the back room, anxious to escape the conversation.

Feng Xin and Mu Qing were bursting with indescribable emotion. Some small part of Feng Xin fumed at Xie Lian for leaving them without explaining, but the rest of him just wallowed in a torrent of guilt, doubt, and self-questioning.

If the Taizi Dianxia wouldn’t tell them the truth, who would? Xie Lian had been abandoned with only his parents, who were long dead, so who besides him even knew what happened? The only people must be Jun Wu himself, and –

“Don’t look at me,” Hua Cheng rolled his eyes, leaning lazily against a chair. “I’m not going behind gege’s back for some backstabbing servants.”

“You’re the one who said we deserve to know,” Mu Qing argued.

“So? It’s gege’s story to tell, and he said no, so no.”

“How do you even know?”

Hua Cheng shrugged. “I was just ghost fire at the time. I had to watch.”

The corners of his eyes tightened, and a murderous look crossed his face. Unlike Xie Lian, his malice wasn’t bottled away, but instead broadcast for all to see.

“Watch what?” Feng Xin cried in anguish. “Why must you torture us?”

Hua Cheng snickered. “If only you knew your own irony.”

With that, he straightened and glided in Xie Lian’s direction, back towards the sleeping chambers.

“We – we’ll be back tomorrow!” Feng Xin and Mu Qing shouted at his receding back. Hua Cheng shrugged again.

//

That night, Hua Cheng was holding Xie Lian in his arms, and casually said, “Gege, this is what you did with Lang Qianqiu, too.” It wasn’t an accusation – it was never an accusation, just a comment.

Xie Lian exhaled. “I know.”

Hua Cheng’s voice grew husky. “Isn’t it enough that you suffered alone then, why must you be alone now, too? Why must you save everyone secretly, then endure their collective ridicule?” Then, “Is keeping it a secret truly doing anyone good?”

Xie Lian was silent. “Maybe I don’t have a good reason,” he finally said. “I don’t like thinking about it, really. I’m weak.”

“…”

“Although, looking back on it, I can’t believe that cute little ghost fire was you,” Xie Lian laughed. “You’d barely popped up and you already had a little cult following, so adorable!”

Hua Cheng grinned, but it was pained, like he couldn’t remember that period of his existence without discomfort. He said nothing, but his grip around Xie Lian tightened, like he was afraid of letting go.

Xie Lian noticed, and, after a beat of silence, shut his eyes. “I’ll think about it, okay?”

//

Feng Xin and Mu Qing would not give up. Day after day, they visited Xie Lian, demanding answers, so after months of heckling, Xie Lian finally agreed to explain what had happened all those years ago. When Xie Lian, Hua Cheng, Feng Xin, and Mu Qing sat down in Paradise Manor, Hua Cheng started talking first, trying to alleviate Xie Lian’s burden.

“…He’d wailed and screamed and cried and begged for mercy, but the people, having deemed him a sinner, continued without hesitation. Of course, his sinfulness was merely an excuse to save their own skin…”

“…After one hundred fatal strikes, Dianxia laid on his own altar, disfigured beyond recognition. Nothing more than a pile of flesh.”

Feng Xin was not the type to cry. So, when his eyes grew wet and then started streaming, Xie Lian hurriedly waved off Hua Cheng’s stone-faced words.

“Feng Xin, this was hundreds of years ago,” Xie Lian assured him, patting his shoulder. “It’s not sad anymore. Also, I’ve endured worse since then.”

This aggravated Feng Xin even further, and he looked like he wanted to cry some more. “I just can’t… when I imagine it, I can’t help it…”

“Trust me, whatever you’re imagining, it was five million times worse in real time,” Hua Cheng muttered darkly. He stared at Xie Lian with an odd expression, before languidly pulling him into his embrace.

Feng Xin looked like he wanted to rebuke, but in the end, could not. Thus, he motioned for the story to continue.

Xie Lian skimmed over his recovery period, the reformation of his flesh, and Feng Xin’s departure, but before he was in the clear, he was interrupted.

“So that’s why you asked me to leave?” Feng Xin said incredulously.

“There was no need to pull you down with me,” Xie Lian murmured.

“I thought you’d gone insane,” Feng Xin mumbled, nauseated. “I told your mother and father… I left you…”

Describing what happened to his parents was even harder, and when he finally got to saying how he’d put his own head in the noose, eyes filling with blood and collarbone cracking, Mu Qing jumped up.

“DAMN IT,” he roared, picking up a glass and shattering it against the nearest wall. “Damn it, damn it, damn it, Dianxia! What the actual fuck?”

Xie Lian peered at him. “Please don’t break San Lang’s things,” he tried.

“WHAT DO I FUCKING CARE? FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, TAIZI DIANXIA, HOW COULD YOU KEEP SOMETHING LIKE THIS FROM US?” Mu Qing was panting, and Feng Xin was staring off into space, eyes empty. “WE COULD’VE HELPED! IF I’D HAVE KNOWN, I’D HAVE –“

“Come back?” Xie Lian questioned lightly. “Followed me until the end?”

There was a deafening silence.

“No… I wanted you both to break free,” Xie Lian said. “You had a future.”

“SO DID YOU!” Feng Xin cried, broken from his trance. “Why… why did all this… why must it happen to you?”

“For that, I have no answer,” Xie Lian said. “But, if it had to happen to anyone, I’m glad it happened to me.”

Feng Xin and Mu Qing looked like they’d been shattered into a million pieces. Xie Lian said ruefully, “This is why I didn’t want to tell you.”

Mu Qing rushed forward. “GODDAMN IT, THE FACT THAT I DIDN’T KNOW ABOUT IT IS EVEN WORSE! WHY DIDN’T YOU ASK FOR HELP? YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO USE US, RELY ON US, THAT WAS OUR FUCKING JOB AND WE…”

“At the time, you were ganging up with Middle Court lackeys to chase him out of spiritual lands,” Hua Cheng remarked icily, pulling Xie Lian closer to him.

Mu Qing appeared stupefied, like Hua Cheng had just slapped him. “San Lang!” Xie Lian admonished. Mu Qing sat back down.

Both Feng Xin and Mu Qing both looked like they wanted to protest more, but Xie Lian continued with the story before they could. When he described donning the white mask and preparing to unleash the Human Face Disease, both of them seemed to hold their breath. Hua Cheng described his rebirth as a ghost soldier, following Xie Lian’s commands but never believing that he would truly commit the atrocity.

Feng Xin was regarding him with something that almost looked like newfound respect, but Mu Qing turned his head.

The rest was all downhill from there. He described laying on the pavement for days on end, and the one farmer who’d salvaged his faith in human goodness.

“To anyone else, thousands of onlookers ignoring your pain and suffering before one did anything shouldn’t reinforce your faith in anything…” Mu Qing muttered.

Xie Lian pressed forward, practically sprinting through the unleashed Human Face Disease, taking the brunt of the curses, and then Hua Cheng dying for him for the second time. He talked about ascending into heaven, and asking Jun Wu to punish him for his wrongdoings using banishment and cursed shckles.

“…DIANXIA?!?” Feng Xin gasped. “IT WASN’T A MURDEROUS RAMPAGE?”

“Nope!” Xie Lian said cheerily, relief crossing his face as if he was pleased to be done talking.

Mu Qing’s face darkened, and he started swearing again. “I WAS FUCKING WONDERING HOW SOMEONE AS TALENTED AS YOU SPENDS 800 YEARS TRYING TO ASCEND, IT WAS ON FUCKING PURPOSE? FUCKING FUCK, I WANT TO STRANGLE SOMETHING! SOMEONE GIVE ME SOMETHING TO BREAK!” He clomped off in a random direction.

Feng Xin’s face looked shadowed over, too. “Here I was wondering how you suddenly had such bad luck. As Crown Prince, you’d never had something so egregious. Now, learning that you asked for it… it all makes sense.” His hands were clenched into tight fists, and his words turned into cries. “Why… why… why… for 800 years, we felt… we waited, we were waiting, for something, and we thought maybe you’d died, or gone crazy, or vanished… We…”

Xie Lian had approached him, and put both hands on his shoulders. It was an old, but familiar gesture, and Feng Xin’s heart immediately squeezed with pain and regret. He was at a loss for words, and everything seemed wretched.

“Feng Xin, I understand your anguish,” Xie Lian said softly. “But I became very close to becoming that thing which I swore to destroy. And, to be honest, at that point I didn’t care much for godhood. I lost everything because of godhood. What I couldn’t stand to lose was myself, not to that monster, not to anyone. So, please understand. I’m sorry I hurt you, but it was necessary.”

“WHY DO YOU HAVE TO BE SO FUCKING GOOD?” Mu Qing roared, coming to stand next to Feng Xin. “WHY CAN’T YOU EVER BE SELFISH?”

Xie Lian chuckled, and Mu Qing covered his mouth, as if the words had escaped by their own volition. “…I wasn’t being good, I was scared.”

Mu Qing swore more. Feng Xin, on the other hand, fell to his knees, his shoulders trembling. So, Xie Lian acted on impulse, pulling Mu Qing down to the ground, too. Xie Lian then wrapped one arm around Feng Xin, and the other around Mu Qing, enveloping the both of them in a hug.

“I’m sorry,” Xie Lian murmured again, trying to control their trembling. He couldn’t tell, at this point, if it was only Feng Xin, or if it was Mu Qing too.

“We failed. I failed,” Feng Xin said, and his voice was raw with agony. “Why are you apologizing?”

“It wasn’t fair to either of you… but I loved you very much, and it was like you were shackled to a man descending to the bottom of a lagoon. If I didn’t remove your chains, you would’ve drowned too.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, holy shit, I’m so sorry,” Feng Xin said, almost gasping through the words. He looked as though someone had drawn a sword across his Adam’s apple, and he was choking through the blood. “Taizi Dianxia, I’m sorry. I failed.”

“Don’t be so damn self-sacrificing, Your Highness.” It was Mu Qing, this time, and he wasn’t struggling against the embrace. “Every single fucking time. Disgusting. How can we even stop you? Something like this. Damnit.”

“I’m a bit tougher than I look,” Xie Lian assured him. “Drowning is no big deal. Pain will subside. Embarrassment will fade. And look, I’m very happy now.”

From somewhere far away, Hua Cheng laughed slightly. However, even Mu Qing and Feng Xin, who weren’t well acquainted with him, could hear that it was laced with pain, too.

“I’m sorry. I wanted to stay with you,” Feng Xin said. “I wanted to stay, I trusted you unequivocally, you’re my world. But it scared me…”

Xie Lian smiled. “I know. You didn’t have to say anything. Ever since you came to help me at Yu Jun Mountain, I’ve known. And I’m grateful.”

“Stop being so damn forgiving.” Mu Qing’s voice was muffled by Xie Lian’s robes.

“Why? I forgive you.” Mu Qing and Feng Xin seemed to collapse in on themselves. So Xie Lian repeated, “I forgive you.”

No one moved for a long time. The trembling intensified. “You’re so damn forgiving,” Mu Qing mumbled. “It doesn’t mean a thing…”

And yet, they were not willing to break away.

Even after 800 years, Mu Qing and Feng Xin didn’t think that they would ever get used to being dazzled by the Crown Prince.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Spilled Pearls

- Chapter 10 - ao3 -

Lan Qiren was only made aware that Wen Ruohan had fixed things when he realized that two weeks had gone by without anyone saying anything about him personally and had, out of a sense of morbid curiosity, asked one of his teachers about it.

“Oh, didn’t you hear?” his teacher asked, nose deep in one of the musical scores they’d put together for the array project, hunting for the flaws. “The sworn brother business was just part of one of his schemes to gain additional power amongst the Great Sects.”

Having been involved in it, Lan Qiren wasn’t so sure about that. “What do you mean, honored teacher?”

“He’s been finding ways to form new ties with all the Great Sects, not just ours,” his teacher explained. “It’s all come out; some very clever people figured it out. There’s a new trade agreement with the Jiang sect that both sides were keeping hushed up, something going on with the head of the Nie sect that the Nie sect disciples are being especially close-mouthed about, and, of course, his new connection with the Jin sect…it’s really not that surprising that he decided to find a way into our Lan sect by trickery.”

His teacher said it casually, as if of course Lan Qiren's sworn brotherhood had been formed by a slightly underhanded maneuver rather than torture or rape or anything like that, and while of course that was in fact true, Lan Qiren was stunned by the fact that what passed for common knowledge in the cultivation world had been flipped on its head in such a short time.

Truly, Wen Ruohan’s cunning was boundless. It was a little frightening.

“Say,” his teacher added. “As his sworn brother, you’ll be attending the wedding, won’t you? You should bring back some stories!”

Lan Qiren stared blankly. “…what wedding?”

It turned out that Wen Ruohan’s new connection with the Jin sect was through a marriage. The bride wasn't surnamed Jin, that would be too much for most people to tolerate without some sort of excuse; she was instead from a powerful subsidiary sect that swore allegiance to the Wen sect, in keeping with Wen Ruohan’s preference for his own people above anyone else, but her mother was a branch cousin of the Jin sect and everyone said that it was obviously meant as a way to bind the sects together. They said Wen Ruohan had spoken openly of his desire for sons – as usual, no one mentioned the names of those of his descendants already in his sect’s memorial hall – and that there were high hopes associated with the union on both sides. The Jin sect was said to be already parading around the marriage as their newest political victory, trying to use the connection to their best advantage.

“How long has this been planned, do you think?” Lan Qiren asked Lan Yueheng, mostly out of lack of other people to ask; unsurprisingly, Lan Yueheng shrugged.

“It’s an engagement,” he said disinterestedly. “My cousin says the negotiations for an engagement can be as long or as short as everyone wants it. But surely no one would make a lifetime decision like that lightly? Not to mention an alliance between sects, however implicit. It must have been planned a long time ago.”

Lan Qiren wasn’t so sure. There was always the ambiguous situation between Wen Ruohan and Lao Nie to consider, and given the way Lao Nie had spoken during his visit, it sounded as if he had encouraged Wen Ruohan to come up with some clever way out of the situation, rather than suggesting that one already existed.

Moreover, he wasn’t sure that Wen Ruohan considered a marriage to be a lifetime decision. Hadn’t he been married before, had sons before? It was only that they had all died…

“Lan-er-gongzi!” A runner came up to him, saluting. “The Sect Leader asks that you report to the hanshi at once.”

“That’s probably your invitation,” Lan Yueheng said, sounding mildly disapproving – undoubtedly he thought weddings were a waste of time compared with doing experiments. Taking inspiration from his work with Lan Qiren in merging math and music, he’d recently expanded his interests from mathematics to alchemy, and Lan Qiren grimly foresaw many exploding furnaces in the Lan sect’s immediate future. At least they had some out-of-the-way places for him to work, or else there'd also be a lot of punishments for violating the rules about too much noise in Lan Yueheng's personal future. “It’ll probably make you miss the first week of this season’s classes, too…well, try not to be too bored.”

Sadly, Lan Qiren did not think being bored would be an option.

Sure enough, when he arrived at the hanshi where his father and brother were waiting alongside several sect elders, the subject of discussion was the invitation he had received to attend the wedding.

“As Sect Leader Wen’s sworn brother, naturally you must attend,” his brother told him. “We will also be sending a delegation from the Lan sect to attend on our behalf officially, but your position is different. You must be careful not to offend anyone.”

Lan Qiren saluted. “I will do my best.”

“Sect Leader Wen will not be kind if you lose face for him, especially at his wedding, even if it is inadvertent - or even if what you do is perfectly correct by our standards,” one of the other elders, one of the older teachers, the well-respected if sleepy one, said. He sounded concerned on Lan Qiren's behalf, which Lan Qiren appreciated. “You must especially take care not to offend his new bride. Even where the marriage is made for the purpose of power and there is no expectation of love, a man does not like to have disturbances in his back courtyard.”

“Especially if the stories are true and Sect Leader Wen hopes for sons,” the teacher in swordsmanship responded, his voice a little acidic. He was still unhappy with Lan Qiren over what had happened during their visit to the Nightless City; Lan Qiren did his best to avoid him whenever possible. “I doubt Sect Leader Wen will persist in trying to raise one of our children once he has one of his own.”

That explained the sour expressions on the faces of his brother and some of the elders, Lan Qiren thought. They had hoped to use him to manipulate Wen Ruohan, though the exact method of how they would have done so escaped him no matter how he analyzed the words he had overheard that night in the hanshi, and Wen Ruohan had neatly evaded their snare with a countermove of his own – as with weiqi, so with politics, he assumed. A disappointment, as always.

“A brotherhood is for life,” Lan Qiren’s father said, voice distant as always, neutral as always. “There are ten months at minimum before any son is born, and all the years after; even if Sect Leader Wen forgets about his obligations, that does not mean that we must. There will be other opportunities.”

“Provided Qiren does not provide grounds for Sect Leader Wen to abjure the relationship,” his brother interjected.

“I will try my best not to do so,” Lan Qiren said again, stiff as always, though he suspected his brother was simply stating a fact rather than casting doubt on him. “When should I prepare myself to depart?”

“The delegation leaves tomorrow morning,” his brother said. “You will need to give a personal gift to your sworn brother in addition to the sect’s gift. I have selected several options; come with me to pick the one you prefer.”

Lan Qiren saluted the elders and wordlessly followed his brother to the treasury. He liked none of the gifts his brother had selected, thinking that they all seemed a bit too gaudy even for a recipient whose tastes tended toward the luxurious – a bit more Lanling Jin than Qishan Wen, and not at all something he would select for himself – but eventually he chose a heavy golden crown that seemed to be not too far from the ones that he’d seen Wen Ruohan wear in the past.

“Not the dagger?” his brother asked, his voice thick with irony that Lan Qiren did not understand, nodding towards another of the options, a golden-hilt blade so purely polished that one could see their reflection in it.

“Sect Leader Wen has a rich collection which we cannot hope to match,” Lan Qiren said, thinking of those peerless treasure swords rusting away as wall decorations in Wen Ruohan’s bedroom. “Moreover, it’s a wedding, which represents two parts joining together into a single whole, while a gift of a knife implies severing. It is therefore inappropriate for such an occasion.”

“Brothers who have shared blood cannot be separated. It is a suitable gift from a sworn brother.”

Lan Qiren looked down at the options, feeling a little helpless. “If you would like me to change my selection…”

“The guan is fine,” his brother said, and shook his head, seeming almost a little pitying. “You are very good to be concerned with your sworn brother’s feelings, no matter how your relationship came about. Too much goodness can be seen as weakness, you know.”

I thought I wasn’t supposed to be making trouble? Lan Qiren thought to himself. Still, since his brother did not seem inclined to elaborate, he handed the gift to one of the servants to be put into an appropriate box.

In actuality, he had already selected a personal gift of his own, shortly after he had first heard about the impending wedding – it had seemed reasonable that he would need to send a gift, even if he didn't expect to actually be invited, and it had not occurred to him that he would be allowed to utilize the sect treasury for such a thing. He’d gone to Caiyi Town and purchased a small set of drinking bowls, applying the glaze himself as the artisan spun the pots; they had gone into the kiln immediately thereafter, and he was expecting the delivery today – in fact, it was probably already waiting in his room.

He would pack the set up with his personal items and give it to Wen Ruohan anyway, he decided. After all, he’d opted to do the design in Wen sect red rather than Lan sect blue, rendering it useless for his own purposes, and it would be worse to simply throw it away or to let it sit and gather dust. Being frugal is a virtue, after all.

Of course, if he were truly being frugal, he would have told his brother that he did not need an additional gift and left the guan alone, but he didn’t want to reject his brother’s kindness, either, rare as it was. Better to just eat the loss of the funds and have Wen Ruohan think him a spendthrift…

“Sect Leader Wen will undoubtedly have you stay in the Sun Palace during your visit,” his brother said abruptly, and Lan Qiren looked at him: his brother wasn’t looking at him, but into the distance, and his fingers twitched at his side in an uncharacteristic display of nervousness. “As his sworn brother, it would be inappropriate for him to put you in the guest quarters, or to fail to allow you free mobility through the Nightless City.”

“That seems likely,” Lan Qiren agreed hesitantly, not sure why his brother was mentioning it.

“He is fortunate that you are not naturally observant,” his brother said. “Otherwise one might fear that you would use the opportunity to learn more about how the Wen sect works – its treasures, its secrets. Its plans for the future.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t do that,” Lan Qiren said quickly. “Have courtesy and integrity, after all. Even if I were to discover something incidentally, naturally I would be honor-bound not to share it without informing Sect Leader Wen that I had done so.”

His brother sighed, his fingers abruptly unclenching. “Of course you would. How could anyone doubt it…I don’t suppose you’ve ever given any thought to Do not forget the grace of your forefathers?”

“Of course I have. That’s one of the fundamental rules,” Lan Qiren said, now absolutely bewildered. “That we should live up to the expectations of our ancestors, both in our good conduct and discipline, and in supporting our sect so that our descendants may honor them equally.”

His brother shook his head. “Sometimes I really don’t understand you. You were tricked into an oath like a virgin maiden into a sweet-talker’s bed, weren't you?” he said. Lan Qiren really didn’t understand how his brother’s mind worked that he kept changing subjects like this. “I just wonder that you aren’t more resentful of the one that did it, the way anyone else would be. The way you act, you’d think Sect Leader Wen had done you a favor; you’re so considerate of him.”

Lan Qiren thought his brother might be being sarcastic, but he wasn’t very good at determining such things. “Even if the manner in which we became sworn brothers was unorthodox, the oaths have still been sworn,” he said, a little haltingly. “I cannot control his actions, only my own. Just because he might not be a good brother doesn’t mean I can’t be – isn’t that right?”

His brother glared at him. “If you have something to say, Qiren, you can say it directly.”

Lan Qiren was at an utter loss. “I – was?”

“Your teachers say that you’re brilliant,” his brother said, voice suddenly very cold. “I often wonder whether they’re not growing too old for their work.”

“I don’t –”

“Never mind. You’re dismissed.”

Lan Qiren saluted and returned to his quarters, puzzling over the conversation as he packed away his things for the trip. Was his brother trying to warn him against anyone encouraging him to act as a spy? Or was he trying to convince him to act as a spy himself? But if it was the latter, why wouldn’t he just say so? If it were truly necessary for some reason, for the good of the sect…

Was he supposed to volunteer?

But that would be truly breaking the oath of brotherhood – of which he still didn’t know the contents…

Lan Qiren supposed that, at least, was one thing he would be able to fix: very soon, he would be seeing his sworn brother again for the first time since they’d sworn their oaths.

Maybe he’d find a way to ask.

[hangovercurse]

Stay With You ii

You get the call after Rook’s accident and go to the hospital to take care of him.

Requests: “ Could you maybe write another Rook story about where you get the call after his accident that he’s in the hospital and just always staying there with him and when his dad shows up he sees you leaning on the bed sleeping holding Rooks hand or something and he knows you’ll take care of him? I just really love Rook “ “ I was wondering if you know what happened to rook and if you could write something cute like taking care of him after being worried at first about him. I had a mental breakdown when we got the news I'm hoping he gets well soon “

JP “Rook” Cappelletty X Reader

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of the accident (violence, broken bones, etc.), angst

A/N: I needed something happy to come out of this situation so... I wrote it.

Word Count: 2372

part i

You woke up a few hours later to Rook moving under you, your eyes finding his instantly. “Hey baby, how are you feeling?” You asked as you sat up, a smile on your face as you saw that the bruising on his face was fading. He had clearly just woken up as well, sleep still in his eyes.

“Better, I think. Awake.” You nodded, moving the pillow from his lap.

“Your dad’s here.” You said softly, nodding your head towards the man who was sleeping in the chair against the wall. You giggled at the sight and Rook let out a chuckle.

“I’m hungry” He whined and you frowned, remembering what the anesthesiologist told you about no food 8 hours before surgery. He was scheduled to go in at 10 am, and it was currently 5 am.

“I’m sorry, babe. The doctor said no food until after the surgery. I can see if they’ll let you eat jello if you want.” He frowned and you reached up to rub his face. You could tell this was going to be a long 8 weeks.

Truth be told, Rook was a baby when he got sick. He would lay in bed and whine until you agreed to cuddle with him. And if he wanted something, he would pout until he got it. But you kind of loved it. “I’ll be right back.” You whispered, standing up to go find a nurse.

He smiled at you, “can you hand me my phone?” He asked. You moved to the other side of his bed where his phone lay on a table and handed it to him. “I’m gonna see if Colson’s still up.”

You nodded, happy that the two boys were so close. You put your mask on and left the room, flagging down one of the nurses working the night shift.

When you got back into the room with 2 cups of lemon-flavored jello, Johnny was up and the father and son were having a light conversation. You set the cups on the tray and moved it so it was in front of Rook. He tried to raise his hands but you could tell he was struggling. He let out a sigh and looked at you, embarrassment in his eyes.

You smiled lightly, trying not to giggle at his helplessness. “Do you want me to help you?” You asked and he gave a nod, pouting. You adjusted his bed so he was sitting up fully.

“Can you sit next to me?” Johnny let out a laugh as you rolled your eyes a little bit.

Rook tried to shift over in the bed, but you could tell it was hurting him. “Baby stop, you’re gonna hurt yourself.” You sighed.

“I want you to sit on the bed with me.”

You looked at his dad, an exasperated look in your eyes. He just chuckled and turned back to his phone. “I don’t want to hurt you.” You frowned, taking notice of the fact that there was very little room on the bed to begin with.

He squinted his eyes at you, still pouting. “You won’t hurt me.” You raised your eyebrow and moved to sit halfway on the bed, your right thigh resting on the mattress but the majority of your weight still on your left foot on the ground. “Not good enough.”

You rolled your eyes, scooting closer so that your back was against the back of the bed, turned on your side. He smiled, reaching his arm up slowly to try and wrap it around your shoulders. You glared at him, but he shot you a “My hand is broken, not my arm.”

You sighed, sitting up and leaning onto his chest, where you knew he wanted you. You pulled your other leg onto the bed, careful not to put any pressure against his. You leaned up slightly, putting weight on your right hand as your left grabbed the jello cup beside the bed. He opened his mouth and you rolled your eyes. “I don’t like how much you’re enjoying this.”

You placed a small spoonful of the yellow food into his mouth, making him smile. “In a few years, its gonna be you in this bed and I’ll be feeding you jello.” You tilted your head at his words, furrowing your eyebrows. “Y’know, when you’re giving birth to our kid.”

You blushed, a smile making its way to your face. You knew JP wanted kids at some point, and you did too. But you guys had never really talked about it. And now he was bringing it up so casually. Before you could respond, the door opened, and in walked Colson with a backpack full of what he called “everything Rook will ever need,” which you assumed to mean weed and tequila.

Rook smiled, “Yo, dude, what’s up?” Colson threw the bag onto the floor on the opposite side of the bed from you.

“How are you, man?” Colson asked, throwing himself onto the chair next to it.

Rook shrugged, “I’ve been better.” He chuckled and you rolled your eyes, a small giggle coming from you. “Y/N’s feeding me, so it’s not too bad.”

His dad spoke up, “You’re forcing Y/N to feed you jello, you mean?” You laughed at that as Rook’s shoulders fell. “Nice to see you, Kelly.”

“You too, Johnny. I like the new hair.” Colson smiled at the older man, who thanked him. “So, what did the doctors say?”

Rook gave him the rundown, one surgery today, Wednesday, and another on Friday. Casts on his hands for 6 weeks and on his legs for longer. The four of you spoke for a while afterwards and then Colson pulled out a game of connect four (which you raised your eyebrows at but Rook seemed excited about it).

Eventually the Anesthesiologist, Dr. Stenson, came in with a few nurses to take Rook to surgery. You had to climb off the bed, much to Rook’s dismay. “I can’t go into surgery with you, dummy.” But part of you wished you could stay with him because you did not like the way those nurses were looking at him. Colson noticed your distaste and chuckled, causing you to send him a glare.

“He’s going to be very drowsy when he comes back once the anesthesia wears off.” Dr. Stenson said, and you smiled at the thought of Rook on anesthesia, which he claimed would be “just like being high.” Dr. Stenson shook his head at that.

Before he was wheeled out of the room on his bed, he made grabby hands at you as best as he could. You leaned closer to him, pressing your lips against his quickly. “I love you, Y/N” He said, quietly. He didn’t mind anyone else hearing, but he wanted these words to be only for you.

“I love you too.” You said, just as quietly. He leaned back up to kiss you again, making you smile. You were starting to love helpless Rook; it was just endless attention and neediness.

The nurses took him off to surgery, leaving you, Johnny, and Colson alone in the room together. You collapsed onto the chair you had slept in, letting out a sigh as Colson chuckled at you. “Shut up.” You scrunched your nose at him, curling into the chair and bringing the pillow under your head.

“You guys are cute, what?” He asked, defensively, but the smile on his face was anything but.

You pouted, trying to push yourself further into the chair to find some comfort, but you knew your attempts to sleep were futile. You groaned, sitting up and throwing your head down towards your chest. “I’m so tired.” You mumbled, causing the two men to laugh.

“This is your life for the next 2 months.” Johnny chuckled. “If he doesn’t marry you after this then you need to leave his ass.”

You chuckled, the irony of his dad telling you that made it even funnier. “I can’t believe he still hasn’t proposed.” Colson shook his head in disappointment.  

A laugh fell from your mouth. “It’s funny how everyone is more impatient than I am for my own proposal.”

“I don’t understand how you’re so patient! I’ve barely been with Megan a whole year and I already wanna marry her.” Colson threw his head back against the back of his chair.

“I mean it’s not like I’m worried it’s not gonna happen. We were just talking about kids. He just doesn’t feel the rush, I guess. I don’t either, what’s the big deal with getting married anyways?”

Colson tilted his head at you, “It’s like, this huge proclamation of your love. Like you’re telling the whole world that you’re gonna love each other for the rest of your lives.”

You shrugged, looking down at your nails. “I mean, we don’t really need big proclamations. It’s in the little things. I love him, he loves me.”

You could feel both men’s eyes on yours and heat ran to your cheeks as you thought about the idea of a white dress. “But you do wanna get married, right?” Johnny asked and you smiled.

“Of course, I just don’t want to push him into something like that. He’ll ask when he’s ready.”

Colson shook his head as you looked back up, “He is one lucky motherfucker. Literally every other person would’ve kicked his ass by now.” You chuckled, not saying anything. “Wait you guys were talking about kids?”

You nodded, “right before you got here, actually.”

Colson furrowed his eyebrows, “I never saw him as the type, honestly.”

You smiled widely, “He brought it up.” Colson shrugged, a hum coming from his mouth. “I think it’d be kinda nice. I don’t know how it would work with him being on tour all the time, but that’s a discussion for another day.”

“I seriously can’t imagine Rook being a dad.”

“Can you imagine Rook getting married?” You giggled as Colson shook his head.

“Well I, for one, am looking forward to being a grandad, so hop on that.” Johnny said and you laughed. You spent the rest of the time while Rook was in surgery playing connect four and eating shitty hospital food, trying to keep your mind off the fact that Rook was in fucking surgery.

When he did get back, it was a sight to behold. The nurses wheeled him back into the room, his eyes lighting up when he saw you. “Y/NNN!” He slurred, “Look at my beautiful girlfriend.” He said to the nurses and you and Colson busted out laughing. “She’s so cool. She comes on tour with me sometimes, and we partyyy.” He made a dancing motion with his arms even though they his right was in a very large cast.

“Okay Rookie, the nurses are gonna leave now, okay?” You said, trying to hide your laughter. The nurses gave you a look of thanks and left the room after leaving you with a list of what he could and couldn’t do. Colson took his phone out and started recording, knowing that whatever Rook was gonna say next would be funny.

The surgery went well according to them, but the doctors would be in later when the medicine wore off to tell you more. “How are you feeling?” You asked, knowing he wouldn’t give a real answer.

“I feel greeeat. I’d feel better if my fiancé were laying with me right now, but other than that I am just fine.”

You cocked an eyebrow, an amused look on your face. “Your fiancé?”

“Yeahhhh.”

“When did you propose?” You giggled, looking over to his dad and Colson who were both cracking up.

A look of realization crossed Rook’s face, “Oh shit, I forgot that step, didn’t I?” You nodded, “Do you wanna get married?” You bent over in laughter at his innocent expression. He pouted at you, whining. “Why are you laughing I’m asking you to marry me?”

You tried to speak through your laughs, “I’m sorry babe.” You took a deep breath in, “I’m not laughing at you.”

“So, you don’t wanna get married?” He asked, getting very upset.

“I do, baby. I do. But you gotta get a ring.”

“Oh yeaaaah.” He looked over at Colson. “Colson, where’s the ring?” Your head snapped to Colson, whose face went red.

“Dude you didn’t get a ring.” He tried to cover it up but you could tell he was lying.

Your eyes went wide and your mouth hung open. “Yes I did, I told you to bring the ring with you when you came.” He whined.

You giggled, hand going to your mouth. “Oh wait.” He said, turning back to you. “I can’t ask you to marry me right now. I gotta get down on one knee and my legs are broken.”

Johnny had an amused look on his face when you looked over to him for help. “Okay, Rookie. I’ll forget that you proposed and then when your legs get better you can do it again, okay?”

He nodded, “But you’ll still say yes, right?”

“I’ll still say yes.” You smiled, eyes closing as you continued to laugh. “You should get some sleep, hun.” You moved his braids out of his face.

“I wanna cuddle.” He pouted.

“You just had surgery; I can’t give you cuddles.” You frowned as he looked sad.

“Why don’t you love me?”

“I do love you, Rookie. I just can’t cuddle you with your arm broken.” You could hear Colson wheezing from the opposite side of the bed. “Get some sleep and we can cuddle when you wake up.”

He groaned but leaned back into the bed anyways, slowly drifting off to sleep. You turned to Colson, eyes wide and face red. “You had a whole conversation about marriage while you had his ring in your bag?” You whisper screamed.

He raised his hands up in surrender, “I was just doing what I was told. I didn’t think he’d propose to you while he was high off his ass on anesthesia.” He chuckled.

Johnny chuckled, “at least you got it on video.” You sighed and rolled your eyes, putting your face in your hands.

“Congratulations!” Colson said, eyes swinging up in the air.

[7of-hearts]

beauyasha week day one: hurt/comfort. a 1,500 word piece about sleep!

just forewarning, there’s a brief mention of scratching/skin picking, but it’s only a sentence or so towards the beginning.

Almost every member of the Nein has trouble sleeping. Beau thinks that’s to be expected, considering all the things they’ve seen. Some nights none of them sleep, instead huddling around the fire and passing Nott’s flask around until bright oranges color the horizon. Sometimes, after the dome is set, they all simply pass out, hoping someone stays up to take watch. And there are nightmares, of course. Nights spent in the dome have made Beau intimately familiar with the aftermath. Caleb wakes up, clawing at his arms, not stopping until he recognizes the familiar curvature of the dome. Fjord sometimes gasps awake, either coughing up seawater or struggling for the breath that had been squeezed out of his lungs. Nott would wake silently, but noticeably distressed. She’d join whoever was on watch, curling her knees to her chest. Jester rarely has these night terrors, but some nights Beau will look over and see tears slowly tracking down the tiefling’s face. Caduceus is the only member of their party that Beau has never seen jolt out of a nightmare. He and Yasha, that is. 

Beau is pretty sure Yasha does have nightmares, in fact, she’s nearly positive of it. It’s just that Beau has never seen Yasha fall asleep. Not really, anyways. She’s up most nights, sitting on the outskirts of the dome and digging her hands into the grass beneath them. When Yasha does lay down, she doesn’t sleep. Instead, she gently takes the book from the bottom of her bag. Beau’s spent multiple nights (nights she was supposed to be keeping an eye out) watching Yasha lightly run her fingers over pressed flower petals, almost as though she were in prayer. But she never sleeps. Beau can’t help but wonder if she’s got too many demons pressing against her to let her eyes slip closed. 

_____

The first time Beau actually sees Yasha fall asleep, it’s when she’s watching the memory of her and Zuala. And part of her mind wants nothing more than to catalogue the peace that falls over Yasha’s face as she rests, but Beau won’t let herself. It feels voyeuristic, like she’s stealing the intimacy and comfort that Yasha has found. So she forces herself to turn away, picking at her nails and letting her eyes flit around the darkness before her. 

When her watch comes to an end, Beau allows herself one moment to look. Just a second, she tells herself, to make sure Yasha’s actually getting some sleep. And as she watches the soft rise and fall of the barbarian’s chest, she can’t help the soft tug at the corner of her mouth. It’s still there when she turns, kneeling down to wake Fjord up for his shift. She sleeps lightly that night, waiting for a light inhale or the errant clap of thunder.

_____

Their first night in the tower, Beau doesn’t sleep at all. That’s going to be useful. Beau can’t get the sentence out of her head. She sits on the bed, staring up at that godsdamned mirror, wondering what the hell Yasha meant by that. A small part of her keeps wondering if Yasha likes her too, but she won’t let herself actually consider that. Thoughts like that bring about too many questions. Does she actually like me? Why now? How do I go about this, I’ve never really been in a relationship? Do I just ask her out? And what after that? She’s stuck in an endless cycle, thoughts spiraling until she finally gives up on sleep. 

“Might as well get some reading done,” She mumbles to herself, pushing herself off the bed and out the door. She walks quietly, weight placed on the side of her foot first. Just like when she used to sneak out as a kid. The thought makes her huff, a small frown over her features as she steps into the library. She’d expected it to be empty, but there, nestled into an armchair with a book open on her lap is Yasha. Beau can’t help but think this is some kind of cosmic irony. 

“Oh, sorry, did I wake you?” Yasha asks when she looks up to find Beau at the entrance. Beau shakes her head, mute for a moment until she realizes she should probably respond.

“Ah, no, just couldn’t sleep. Figured I might as well do something useful,” She says eventually, still locked in place. Yasha nods—something that resembles understanding in her gaze—before her mismatched eyes return to her book. Beau feels her bones unfreeze, and she shakes the imaginary frost from her body and makes her way to the bookshelf, pulling down a random tome. The Knight of Flame and Sword, the title written in a curly script that reminds Beau far too much of her mother. She shrugs, turning from the shelf and making her way to one of the other armchairs. 

She sits for an hour, maybe two, not absorbing any of the novel in her lap. Her thoughts are still drifting to the woman maybe fifteen feet from her despite her best attempts to focus. Another half-hour passes, Beau reading the same passage over and over when a dull thud startles her from her thoughts. She bolts upright, her own book falling off her lap as she enters a defensive stance. Her eyes dart around the room, searching for any hint of danger before they settle on Yasha. The woman’s eyes are closed, legs pulled up onto her chair, and the book she’d been reading has fallen spine up to the ground. Beau drops her stance, features relaxing as she makes her way across the room.

“Yasha. Hey, Yash, wake up,” She says, aiming for quiet but hitting something closer to her usual tone. Yasha shifts, but doesn’t wake, so Beau pokes her shoulder a bit. At the contact, Yasha snaps awake, and Beau almost expects giant ghastly wings to come shooting out of her back. Instead, Yasha blinks the sleep out of her eyes, sinking back into the chair when she sees Beau standing next to her.

“Sorry, you fell asleep. Thought I should wake you, no point in sleeping down here when we’ve got such nice rooms. And, uh, I didn’t want you to be uncomfortable. So, y’know.” 

“Thank you, Beau,” Yasha says, pushing herself to her feet. She wobbles a little, her brain still sleep-addled, and Beau steps forward to steady the taller woman on instinct. “‘m sleepy.”

“C’mon, let's get you to bed,” Beau chuckles, moving to wrap her arm around Yasha’s waist and lead her out of the library. They walk slowly, Yasha’s sleepy form leaning against Beau, but eventually, they reach the barbarian’s door. Beau pulls it open, walking Yasha inside and setting her on the bed. The monk watches as she curls into her pillows, her body so small despite her size. 

“Goodnight Yasha,” She whispers, quietly backing out of the room. She hears a faint “G’night Beau,” as she slips back into the hallway.

_____

Beau had never expected this to be her life. Never expected to live past 19, no less. But here she is, Yasha’s head on her chest, hand tracing patterns along her bare shoulder. The night had been perfect, and every time Beau closes her eyes she sees the way Yasha’s had sparkled in the light of the fireworks. She feels so content, despite everything.

A minute or two passes, Beau’s not sure, and she feels Yasha stir, a sharp gasp escaping her. The arm over her stomach squeezes her a little tighter and she stops her tracing.

“Yash?” No reply, but she feels Yasha nuzzle into her a bit further. “Babe, what’s wrong?”

“Dream. Or, a nightmare I guess,” Comes the hushed response, Yasha’s breath fluttering across her collarbone. 

“What about?”

“The cathedral,” Yasha whispers, “And then Lucien. And I—I wasn’t there to save you,” 

Quiet overtakes them for a minute, Beau trying to find the right words. She taps Yasha’s arm, the barbarian looking up at her (Is that fear?) before removing it. Beau shuffles down the bed, turning to face the woman beside her before guiding Yasha’s hand back around her waist. 

“You’re here, Yasha. You’re here and I’m ok. From now on we’ll save each other, alright?” Beau brings her hand up to Yasha’s cheek, Yasha leaning into the touch for a moment before nodding. The silence rushes back in as Beau leans in to kiss Yasha’s forehead, the larger woman tucking herself into the contours of the monk’s body. 

Beau waits, listening to Yasha’s soft breathing until she hears it even out. She knows that everything in their lives is uncertain. Maybe she should feel selfish for letting herself want this, much less have it. But she also knows that she loves Yasha, and maybe for right now she can let that be enough.

[julyarchives]

Don’t You Hear Me Howling? || (M) || 01

Finding out you are a female Alpha sparkled some rivalry inside your pack, and resulted in you losing your best friend and your life turning upsidedown, so leaving for college was the fresh start you needed. Years later, you are about to finish your degree and suddenly this past comes back to mess with your head.

→ Pairing: Yeo One x Female Reader | Kino x Female Reader

→ Genre: Smut; A/B/O AU; Omegaverse; College AU.

→ Words:  3.4K

→ Contains: Mentions of Alcohool; Power Play; Hair Pulling.

→ A/n: Hey guys! So this is our new multi-chaptered story! We have never written this kind of AU before, so please be kind if you spot any mistakes and feel free to educate us. This story will follow cisgender real-life anatomy (a.k.a. it won’t have knotting, mpreg and changes of those sorts). This took us out of our comfort zone and we enjoyed writing it so much that we couldn’t wait any longer to share it with you guys. We hope you all like it as much as we do!

→ Index: 01 • 02 • 03 • 04  • 05  • 06  • 07  • 08

Changgu and you have been friends since before you could remember. You grew up in the same pack, Changgu being the firstborn of the alpha. It was obvious to everyone that he was going to be Alpha as well, the next one to take over the pack when his dad steps down. You two grew up as best friends, and the consequence of being brought up together with an alpha-to-be is that you end up getting some of his personality traits. You were very stubborn and territorial, often getting into trouble for feeling jealous when someone tried to approach your friends. But it was all brushed off as you just mirroring your friend.

Changgu got his first heat at the age of 15, and everyone celebrated the fact that his scent was very much dominant. Everyone started treating him differently, even your other friends in common, but to you, he was the same old Changgu, and one more time your lack of responsiveness was just “she just didn’t get her heat yet, I bet she’s going to change in a few years. I swear, those two will end up marrying”

You heard that since you were a child, and for a while you let yourself believe that. He was your best friend in the world, so why not? You would be his omega, fine, he’s always treated you nicely, so it wasn’t the worst idea.  You two remained friends, even though he was becoming a different person each day, cockier and sometimes even rude, growling and bossing everyone around. You were the only one that never took his shit, but he never seemed to mind that

Until the day of your first heat. It was all the pack would talk about. You were in your senior year, and when everyone realized that your scent was much stronger than Changgu’s it was a shock. It took a while for you to believe that you were really an Alpha, and to understand what that meant for Changgu. He was actually a Beta, that’s why everyone assumed he was an Alpha when you didn’t have your scent. It explains his personality and yours being so similar. It explains everything. 

At first, you didn’t think it was that big of a deal for your friendship, but Changgu suddenly started hating you. You two had plans to go to college together and even live together at some point, but after he found out he wasn’t the Alpha, he redirected his frustration towards you. As an Alpha, you could hold him back sometimes, stopping him from being the worst dickhead. But sometimes you just let it go for the sake of the friendship. He wasn’t willing to do the same.

Once you two moved out to college, it was the breaking point. He stopped talking to you at all, barely acknowledging your presence when you two came across each other in the hall.

Eventually, you just gave up and accepted you weren’t friends anymore. He found his omega friends where he could be the dominant one, and the fact that he provoked heat in them gave him quite a reputation on campus. You were fine, though, have moved on with your life, and last year to graduate as a chemical engineer, developing a research thesis on the studies of blockers and those types of hormones.  

This thesis was so important for you because it's a pioneer one in blockers for female Alphas, using plant based hormones to help block scents but not body growth, actually helping with it, so females can not be jeopardized by smaller body structure than males. Your life was hard because of that condition, that's why changing that for future Alpha Women meant so much to you, and nothing could stop you from achieving your biggest goal in life.

All of that didn’t stop you from developing certain anger towards him for abandoning you just for some stupid hierarchy shit. 

It was a particularly shitty day. All your lab experiments went wrong, and you got so out of control when a girl tried to help that you actually lost it and growled so loud that caused everyone in the room to stop immediately what they were doing and lower their heads towards you.

You just sighed, holding back all your instincts, and left everything behind. Rushing through the way to your apartment, you stumbled onto Wooseok

“Wow, (y/n), what is going on? I could feel chills all the way across the yard” He held onto your shoulders, towering his 1.9m over you.

Another growl escaped your lips, his touch was not doing you any good. He just released you, holding his own hand behind his back and muttering an apology. Wooseok is an omega from your pack, one of the friends you used to have in common with Changgu. You guys never lost touch, especially because he was a very submissive omega. But overall, a good friend.

“Everything is going to shit today, I got caught in the rain, my experiments went wrong, I frightened everyone in the lab and I’m pretty sure I’m getting my rut soon, so help me God if anyone else fucking touches me I will have a fit.”

“Oh, I see.” He twisted his lips “Let’s throw a party, my frat house is always down for a rager. You can find a nice unmarked person to have your fun with, and getting wasted as a bonus”

“That’s why you are my favorite omega” you reached up above you and patted his hair, and his reaction was smirk proud of himself “see you tonight.”.

Wooseok’s frat was huge. He lived with about 9 other boys, and they were known for having the best parties, so you had high hopes for tonight. The place was already crowded and the music loud. You quickly looked around searching for your friend, with no problem finding him, given his height.

“Hey, you made it!” he said when you approached, and introduced you to his group of friend “guys, this is my Alpha (y/n)”

One guy chuckled, you looked directly at him

“She’s your Alpha?” he asked, condescendingly, eyeing you up and down.

Your smile quickly faded.

“Got a problem with that?” You lifted one brow, crossing your arms in front of your chest

“Nothing, your just…” He looked at Wooseok, then at you “short.”

Alphas are usually the tallest of the pack. You weren’t. Being a female Alpha was already difficult, harder to be respected, and your height has always been a reason to be discredited of your position, you always took shit for that. You hated it.

Your blood boiled, everyone around you could feel it, it was easily noticed how everyone flinched. Your eyes were fixated on the boy, ready to jump at his throat. How could he be so disrespectful to an Alpha?

“Shouldn’t have said that, man” Wooseok said immediately

You growled hand curled into fists. You started to move to go against the boy, but a hand caught your wrist. 

Changgu was looking at you seriously, a very concentrated frown, though not a mad one, just focused. You two didn’t exchange words, just stared at each other for a while. As your Beta, the influence he has on you due to your connection is undeniable. With just that look, he meant “I got this”. And you trusted him.

The stupid boy had his head lowered still, he knew he fucked up. Everyone was paying attention to what happened, your scent probably stronger than ever. Changgu released you.

“C’mon, get away from here. And learn to have some respect” He smacked the boy in the back of the head. 

You were now calming down, and feeling embarrassed for causing a scene right when you arrived. You turned to Wooseok, who was watching you attentively.

“Get me to the booze, would ya?” You asked, and he just nodded and obeyed.

Arriving at the kitchen, Wooseok passed you a can of beer.

“I’m sorry for him, he was a jerk” he said, starting the conversation

“It’s alright, I’m used to it, honestly. Just lost my head because of everything today, I told you.”

“I know. I’m sorry”

“Yeah, it’s ok.” You took a long sip. Staring straightforwardly, you continued, not daring to look at Wooseok for the next sentence. “Didn’t know Changgu was going to be here”

“You didn’t? He moved in this semester.” He said carefully., knowing your history. “I was hoping you two wouldn’t stumble onto each other, it is a big party, it had a chance of happening.”

“Lucky me, my Beta senses my every feeling like a radar” you said with irony.

“At least he stopped you from committing a homicide in my house” your friend joked.

“Shut up” you punched his arm lightly.

Encountering Changgu was something else entirely. This was the most he acknowledged you in years. You do understand, though, that it was a natural reaction, very instinctive. No matter how much time you spend apart, if you two are near enough, he will sense every strong feeling of yours and act as your right arm. 

You hated that he was looking good. He recently dyed his hair a pale blond, his cut-out black tank top displaying his strong arms were very sexy, his piercing dark eyes staring directly at you, knowing your every feeling. God, you bet the sex would be amazing, and…

“Erm, y/n,” Wooseok shifted “You horny very out loud” 

“Oh,” you adjusted yourself “Sorry” you laughed.

The downside to being an alpha about to get your rut is that everyone around you gets horny. Even without you want to.

“I’ll fix that, let me introduce you to someone” 

Wooseok guided you to the crowd. Your eyes immediately found Changgu’s again. You couldn’t keep off of each other’s now. Years without any kind of contact were replaced by his touch and all the mental talk you just had. Now the bond grew stronger. It was inevitable to find each other no matter where, and it was pissing you off. You wouldn’t be the one to cave in, not at all. He was the one who put distance between the two of you, so he will be the one to change that if he wants.

Wooseok moved out of the way, letting one of his friends stop in front of you.

“y/n, this is Kino. Kino, this is y/n, the one I talked about earlier today.”

“It’s nice to meet you, y/n” he smiled at you, reaching his hand respectfully.

He was cute. He seemed young and cheerful, yet his eyes hovering you all over showed his intentions were beyond cheerful.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Kino” You dragged his name, sounding good on your lips.

He smelled like fresh strawberries, the scent filling up your nostrils very intoxicatingly. He was in heat. Just what you needed exactly. You had to remember to thank Wooseok later.

“I’ll leave you guys to it” Your friend excused himself, probably overwhelmed with the number of pheromones in the air.

“So, I’ve never been with a female alpha before. This should be fun” He grinned, his flirty personality enticing you

“Well, I guess there’s a first time for everything” You winked at him.

“Better not waste time, then” He reached for your hand, which you gladly allowed him to, and he guided you away from the crowd.

As you approached the empty hallway that led to the bedrooms, you stopped and backed Kino against the wall.

“Your scent is driving me crazy” You said in a low seductive voice, pressing your body against his.

His immediate reaction was to hold your waist and pull you closer, Hips rubbing together so you could feel his bulge through his jeans

“I could say just the same.” was the last thing he said before closing the distance between you two.

He kissed you hard and hungry, contrasting with his soft lips. His hands immediately slither inside your shirt, his warm touch burning trails against the skin of your back. Your nails lightly grazing against his neck, using your palms to cup his face and dominantly guide him to kiss you as you pleased. He was more than compliant.

“Shall we move this to the bedroom?” you said between pants. He looked amazing with his hair messy from the way you grabbed him, and lips in a pretty shade of pink, plump and swollen.

He just nodded, chest rising up and down fast.

This time you took his hand and pulled him to the nearest door you could find, luckily it led to a bedroom. 

“Sit.” you ordered shortly and he quickly obeyed. 

He sat at the edge of the bed, legs spread, leaning back supporting himself on his arms. He looked absolutely gorgeous, his eyes following your every move as you walked towards him and stood in between his knees.

He sat up, hands reaching under your shirt and pushing it up oh so slowly, taking his time feeling you. He looked at you with lust in his eyes. After he discarded your top, he planted slow wet kisses across your stomach, his hand working on the buttons of your jeans. He took the chance to take in your alpha scent, that’s when you say his pupil dilating, taking over almost his whole iris.

“You’re so gorgeous” he said, tugging your pants down. You caressed the top of his head, running your fingers through his hair.

“undress” you commanded him again.

When both of you were left naked, you straddled him, kissing him passionately as he grabbed your ass, grinding you against his bulge. You pushed him to lay down, not wasting time to sink down on his dick. Both of you couldn’t handle waiting any longer. You started riding him and he immediately started moaning and groaning high pitched in a small voice that turned you on even more. He carved his nails on your thighs as you kept the fast pace. 

He started rocking his hips up, following your movements, getting deeper inside of you, and hitting just the right spot to make you scream.

“Fuck, baby, keep doing just like that” you told him in between moans

Kino moaned louder at the pet name. You opened a smug smile.

“Like being called that, huh?” you ask and he nodded, moaning your name “like being my baby boy?”

He muttered a few curse words and your name repeatedly.

“That’s right, baby, keep being loud for me. Sounds so good” You kept encouraging him.

He looked fucked out already below you. His sweaty hair sticking to his forehead, a blush spreading across his cheeks, and his mouth hanging open.

You leaned down, not stopping moving your hips, to kiss him again, you just couldn’t resist. The harder you kissed him, the closer you got to your high. The arousal pooling in your core the harder he thrust into you. Soon like that you were coming hard and loud, and you thanked the loud music, otherwise, everyone would have heard you. Kino fucked hard, just the way you like it, and it got you exactly what you needed, obeying your every order like a good omega.

But he wasn’t done yet. 

You got off of him, laying in the bed on all fours and he soon was inside you again, taking you from behind with loud skin-to-skin sounds, his moaning getting louder and louder. 

“Pull my hair, Kino” you managed to say.

He quickly grabbed it in a make-do ponytail, pulling it so it hurt how you wanted, making you hiss in pleasure. But it got him too confident.

“Fuck, y/n, it feels so good like that” he said and followed with a light slap on your ass.

It got you snarling.

 "Oh no, don't think you're in charge.” you warned “Hit me again and we're done, baby boy"

He muttered a quick apology between gasps. 

Being put back in his place, Kino was working his hips enthusiastically now, while you backed it up against him. He definitely knew what he was doing. He took you by surprise when he reached below you for your clit, rubbing it in circular motions in sync with his thrusts. You buried your head in a pillow, muffling the high-pitched grunts leaving your throat due to the overstimulation, but you were loving every second of it. Kinos thrusts started to become more sloppy and faster, indicating he was about to cum. You both reached your high at the same time, the pheromones boosting it, making it the most intense orgasm you had in a long time. Curses and names being thrown around by the both of you, his hands digging in your hips while yours twisted the sheets around. 

Kino collapsed by your side at the same time you laid down on your back. He approached and kissed you again, this time not so urgent, but rather slow and sensual. His hand now patted your side softly, causing small goosebumps to rise on your skin. He kissed down your neck and buried his nose on your hair, taking in your scent 

“You did good…” you started teasing “baby boy”

Kino grinned, proud of himself.

“You were pretty amazing yourself.” he answered, biting his lip.

You hugged him closer, letting him cuddle you and enjoying the way he smelled as well. Strawberries will never be the same, you chuckled to yourself. You knew that for an omega, being with an Alpha was overwhelming, so you knew, that, even if the sex wasn’t the kinkiest, the aftercare was necessary.

You took the opportunity to get to know each other better. You learned that he is a dance major, which explained the flawless hip work, and he was 2 years younger than you, which was a first for you. Nevertheless, he was good company. After exchanging your numbers, agreeing to repeat the latest activity would be good both for your rut and his heat, and a quick makeout session, you both got dressed and headed back to the party due to the need for beverages.

The party was still at its high point, everyone was drunk and dancing like no one was watching. Kino and you earn a few lingering looks for showing up smelling so strongly like pheromones and sex. But you didn’t care, you were used to it. You two found a good spot on the dance floor and you told him to stay there, so you would get drinks for them.

Back at the kitchen, you quickly grabbed a pair of red cups with a blue vodka that god knows what flavor it was. When you were heading out, someone blocked your way purposefully.

“What do you want, Changgu?” You lifted your head, staring at him face-to-face, Alpha and Beta matching heights.

“So I am left to clean up your mess while you go around and fuck the first guy you see in front of you?”

You thanked whatever bigger force that the kitchen was empty, you didn’t want to cause another scene, but Changgu was getting on your nerves.

“Oh that’s so sweet, you think that was about you?” You spilled ironically.

“Just get your shit together before I have to rescue your ass for you to grind it on someone else” He said, trying to get the upper hand.

“I don’t know if you forgot, but I’m still your fucking Alpha, so back the fuck off before talking to me like that. I didn’t need you to come to rescue me of anything, I’m pretty sure I can handle myself. And finally,...” you looked at him up and down “Why do you care who I grind on? Upset it’s not on you?” 

He curled his hands in fists, staring at you with that same frown, only this time you knew he was pissed. You got closer and whispered at him.

“Next time, all you have to do is ask, sweetheart.” You bit your lips into a grin.

You backed out to stare at him again when you saw Kino approaching.

“Y/n!” he called you, Changgu immediately snapped his head to look at him, fuming. “Is everything okay?” He stared between you and Changgu, defensive mode ready to fight in case needed.

“Don’t worry, baby” You said to Kino, but actually staring at your Beta, who was gritting his teeth at you “Changgu was just leaving.”

You walked past him, bumping your shoulders on the way, and heading back to the dancefloor with Kino.

[jessiebanethedragon]

so i randomly thought about a fic with crosshair with his iconic line "you miss me? how touching" and im kinda shocked about how it doesnt exist! so i went to you to request this 👉👈 bcs you're one of my fav fic writers and i'd like to see it from you, no pressure though! bcs i know you dont exactly have all your hours to provide us with fan content :] <3

Hello! thank you so much for this request i’ve been in love with the idea for so long sorry it took me ages to get it written! anyways here it is! 

love ya oxoxox Jessie

Miss you (Crosshair x separatist!Reader)

You met Crosshair in a hurricane of cruses, punches and a bloody nose on his part. And from the glare he sent you way after Hunter had wrestled you into binders, you knew the mutual feeling of hatred was obvious. And of course, when the republic so graciously offered to help you make amends, in return for separatist intel and a forgoing of your prison sentence they put you back into the clutches of Clone Force 99. 

Crosshair could not stand you. With enough cheek and sass to rival his own, and looks that were infuriatingly good, the resident sniper had it out for you. 

But to be fair, you hated him as well. You hated how tall he was, how his deceivingly slim frame gave way to sturdy muscle that your hands had been over top of on a singular occasion that you couldn't get out of your head. 

“Tell me the layout again.” Sergeant Hunter demanded, standing over a disastrously incorrect map of a separatist base. 

“You’d be better off without a map at all!” Exclaimed throwing your hands up in defeat, “the weapons room is here, on the west side of the basement. Not on the east side of the top floor.” You went through the entire map again and again, in order for Hunter to relay it to Tech when him and Crosshair got  back from intel. 

“I still don't understand why we have to be out in the middle of nowhere.” Tech’s voice crackled through the comms. 

“Because She can’t be trusted.” Crosshair hissed. 

“She has been completely honest with us thus far.” Tech retorted, 

“She has a name” You called into your vambrace, 

“Fine, The separatist cannot be trusted.” Oh you could hear the smirk in his voice now. And the damn sniper wore it so well… 

“Ex-separatist.” Wrecker kindly pointed out in your defence. 

“Enough. All of you, Tech what's your status?” Hunter cut in, giving up on the holo-map completely. 

“Approaching the south entrance stand by.” You furred your brows, south, why did they go to the south. You distinctly remember telling them to go North… oh, oh shit. 

“Tech! Abort mission!” You said into your comm, grabbing your blaster and pack off of the walls of the ship. “Tech! Do not approach the south entrance. I repeat do not engage at the south entrance!” Why, Why did they never listen! You looked at Hunter and Wrecker who seemed unbothered. 

“Where do you think you’re going, Spitfire?” Wrecker asked teasingly, “South entrance is unguarded.” 

“According to your map, but according to me the south entrance is next to…” “The Barracks.” Hunter finished for you, before running into the cockpit shouting into his comms. You and Wrecker shared a look of panic. 

“Are you coming with me or not?”  You asked him, and his eyes darted to the cockpit where Hunter was currently firing up the engines and the ramp that was beginning to close. 

“I’ll meet you there Spitfire.” He promised, brothers come first, you could understand that. And even though you knew the Havoc Marauder could get there faster, something other than your brain told you that you had to go on foot. And so you threw yourself out of the rising ship, and onto the forest floor of a separatist planet. 

And that, well that brings us to the present situation, finding yourself once again in a pair of binders and your comrades nowhere to be found. In hindsight, trampoline through the undergrowth like a bantha on spice wasn't the best idea. But maybe you cared more for Clone  Force 99 than you’d like to admit. 

“Where are they?” Whorm Loathsom sneered, far too close for comfort. 

“The term ‘they’ is pretty ambiguous, could you perhaps speci-fy” your sentence was cut off as his clawed hand met your throat, your own hands fumbling at his face as you struggle for air. 

“I’ll ask you again, traitor. Where are the clones you’ve been travelling with?” Loathsom didn’t let up on his grasp, and the corners of your vision were beginning to blur. 

“At... your... mother’s.” You choked out, still trying to wriggle out of his grasp. His claws were beginning to cut into your skin, and you knew blacking out was imminent. 

“I don’t think you have the time for sarcasm.” He hissed, increasing the pressure causing you to flounder in his grasp. “Now, i’m giving you a chance for redemption here. Tell. me. Where. They. Are!” Maker, you realized, he’s going to do it, he’s actually going to kill you. And just as yours eyes fluttered closed and you began to black out, you hit the floor with a resounding thunk. Only to be pulled onto your feet again and into something familiarly solid. 

“Miss me?” Crosshairs voice was heaven layered honey over the sounds of wheezing and laboured breaths. 

“Crosshair?” You gasped up at him, his arms around your frame moving to pick you up. 

“How touching, you almost look pleased to see me.” You blinked repeatedly at his smirk, before wincing as he began to move. 

“Where?” He asked, setting you down again. You tried to speak again but your lungs were still working double time. “What did they do to you?” He whispered, “I should've been faster.” 

“Crosshair,” you tried again, essentially mewling into his chest, “I can’t…. Can’t” you were panicked, scared, trying to chase a breath you just couldn't catch. 

“I’m going to kill them. I’m going to kill them all.” He snarled, standing up again with you safely in his arms. Maybe Clone Force 99 cared for you more than you thought. 

Bed rest sucks, you decide about one day into Techs mandated recovery schedule. What sucks more is him and Hunter marching you back to you bunk every time you try to get up. So, naturally, you resort to sneaking around during the night when the self-proclaimed medics of the Bad Batch are asleep. 

You clutch a cup of some kind of herbal drink, Wrecker and Tech keep them by the box load so you figured they must be at least decent. But right now you’re wondering if you missed something because the stupid wet herb-flower bag thing keeps flopping around in the cup every time you try to take a sip. And the thing is way too hot, so you resort to blowing the steam away as it rises. 

“Shouldn't you be in bed?” Crosshairs voice comes from the doorway into the hull of the Marauder. 

“Miss me?” You ask, mimicking him from before, enjoying the irony. 

“Nope.” He says, popping the ‘p’. You scoff at your mug of hot herbal whatnot. “Wrecker was beside himself though.” 

“Was he?” You tease your sniper, and a part of you wonders when he went from being ‘the’ sniper to ‘your’ sniper. 

“Yeah, inconsolable in fact.” Crosshair moves from the doorway over to your spot  in the hull of the ship. 

“Really?” you arch an eyebrow, standing in an embarrassing attempt to meet his height. But he’s closer than you calculated and in your adjustment you fumble and find yourself against the wall. 

“Aw, little Spitfire’s all choked up, mind the pun.” Crosshair sneers at you, stepping firmly into your personal space. 

“I do in fact.” You retort, “mind the pun, i also mind you in my personal bubble.” You go to plant a hand on his chest to push him away, but he’s so solid. Maker, why is he so warm and firm under your hands. Why, oh why, does he have to feel so perfect to your palms. And in the three times you’ve now touched him, Crosshair’s starting to feel familiar. 

“You gonna push me or just cop a feel?” He raises an eyebrow, but you miss it under the blush on your cheeks and your gaze hits the floor. His hand comes to your chin, index finger underneath while the thumb caresses your cheek. 

“I didn't get to thank you… for coming back for me.” You’re not sure where this is coming from, but it happens anyways. 

“You’ve got a weird way of apologizing Spitfire,” He murmurs looking back to your hands in his chest, watching your eyes react as he moves his other hand to your hip. He smirks oh so proudly when you sigh and relax into his hands, and move yours to hold his face and lightly  scratch at the short hair on his neck. 

“Crosshair…” You exhale looking at him, and the energy between the two of you does the rest of the talking as he leans down to connect his lips to yours. 

Kissing Crosshair seems to contradict everything else about him. It’s slow and soft, he takes his time memorizing the feeling and shape of your lips of his. And with all the time he’s spent pushing you away, now he’s pulling you impossibly close. Your kiss is akin to the second half of your nickname. Crosshair is on fire, but he can't bring himself to care. For you, he tastes of a forest after rainfall, crisp with mist and peaceful. You don't want it to ever end, but the burning in your abused lungs forces you to pull away. Immediately he pulls your foreheads together, a Keldabe kiss, because it’s the best he can get as you both heave for air. 

“I did miss you. And I was worried.” He tells you, lips brushing against your own  as he speaks. 

“I know,” You say, pressing a second kiss to his lips where you can both feel the other smile. 

[jimlingss]

Moirai [5]

Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6

➜ Words: 5k

➜ Genres: 60% Fluff, 40% Angst, Isekai!AU

➜ Summary: Death is supposed to be the end. Or at least that's what you assumed when you're hit by a TRUCK. But the moment you open your eyes again, instead of being sent to the afterlife, you've become a baby. And not just any baby. You're the female villain of a video game.

“Thank you for inviting me, Lady Anastasia.”   Lucienne sits across the rounded table from you, oblivious to the blossom petals that have drifted down and tangled itself into her hair. The tea party invitation rests beside her teacup, neat and crisp like she held and opened it with the utmost care.    “Yes, thank you.” The other lady beside her pipes up. “It’s an absolute honour.”   “The Royal gardens are lovely this season,” another adds. “I’m glad I can enjoy it like this.”   “It’s not a problem, everyone.” A friendly smile stretches across your face. “It can get quite lonely being the only lady in the castle, so your company is welcome.”   More like Lady Devon and your other tutors was pretty damn insistent that you build a good reputation and inner circle, but whatever. What they don’t know, won’t hurt them.   But you do remember that in the original game, Anastasia used this opportunity to shame the heroine. She invited her to a tea party and made snide remarks about how she danced with the Prince. Of course it seems petty now but it’s understandable that Anastasia resented the heroine so much. Even if she didn’t intend it, she humiliated Anastasia by stealing her fiancé.   And the fact of the matter is that you’ll also become the laughingstock for what she’ll do.   “If I may ask, have you started the wedding arrangements yet, Lady Anastasia?”   You nearly choke on your tea, sputtering for a moment until you’re able to set the cup down on the saucer and cough into your napkin. The ladies around the table appear concerned, but you plaster on another smile. “Well, there’s been no discussion yet. The Royal family and the Devereux house are in no rush. There’s still quite a bit of time, so who knows what could happen.”   “What could happen?” One of them catches on quick and you cordially nod.   “The engagement was made when both Prince Jungkook and I were very young, but now that we are older, we can voice our own opinions on the matter.” You choose your words carefully and your smile widens. “I am not opposed if changes are made. If the leaders of the empire cannot exercise their own freedoms, then how can the people?”    They nod in agreeance, a few in awe at your deep thought process. “That is very mature of you, Lady Anastasia.”   You laugh stiffly and lift your tea cup for another sip.   “Oh, but the Crown Prince is so wonderful.”   You choke. Again. You wonder if you’re going to die at this tea party from the warm liquid constantly going down the wrong pipe.    “I am sure he wouldn’t change his mind with how lovely you are, Lady Anastasia.” The girl beside you smiles, laying it on thick to win your favour. “You two are a very fitting couple.”   “I agree.” Lucy smiles softly. “Prince Jungkook is very courteous.”   “And very majestic.”   You remember when you dueled with Jungkook, he lost within a minute. He threw a tantrum in the following days and gave you the silent treatment. Or that time you went horseback riding, you decided to race each other and he fell off his own horse into mud and started crying.   Uh-huh. Majestic indeed.   You chalk up your wheeze to nothing and dab the corner of your mouth with the tablecloth napkin. “Yes, well, Jungkook will make a fine King someday.”   “And you’ll make a fine Queen,” a soft-spoken voice pipes up and your eyes connect to Lucy’s. Unlike the others surrounding you, you know her words are genuinely spoken and you shift uncomfortably in your seat.   “I’m not so sure about that,” you honestly admit as you fidget with the edge of the porcelain saucer. “A queen must be kind and generous and know the suffering of the people. I’m afraid I have a lot left to learn.”   Your gaze meets Lucy’s again.   Her smile is all too gentle for high society and its naturally cunning, heartless nature. She’s awfully naive, but that aside, you know her benevolence will make her beloved in the empire.   //   Once the tea party is over, you’re able to breathe a sigh of relief. Christ, thank god that’s over.   You escort most of the ladies towards their carriages, bidding them goodbye with polite waves as the palace servants clear the dishes, chairs and table away from the garden. And you turn around to head back to your room to sneak in a break, but your name is frantically called—   “Lady Anastasia!”   You turn and a girl in her purple, simple gown comes barrelling down the open hall. Her chest rises and falls, completely out of breath even when she only ran two meters. It makes you laugh unabashedly. “Is everything okay? You don’t need to run.”   She hunches over, lungs probably burning, but she fixes her posture a moment later. “S-Sorry, my lady.”   “Anastasia is fine.”   Lucy nods. “I...just wanted to thank you again. I was very excited when I received your invitation. It’s an honour….Anastasia.”   “There’s no reason to thank me so much.” You walk alongside her. Your hat with pinned pink peonies, matching your gown, shields the sun away from your face.   “It’s just that I don’t get invited to these sort of events often considering….considering I’m just a baron’s daughter and adopted one at that.”   She doesn’t need to tell you — you know her backstory well. You’ve played through it from her perspective. Her father abandoned her mother who died of illness when she was five and she was picked up on the streets by the sympathetic baron. It seems like every character in this game has some tragic backstory. They are defining moments that make that person.   But you suppose life itself is like that.   “Can I give you some advice, Lucy?” you ask after a quiet moment and she nods. You stop walking and the girl halts beside you. “Your humility makes you likeable, but be careful not to self-deprecate yourself. Your worth is more than what you consider yourself to have.”   Her eyes widen and you add, “Plus, it’s not good to thank a host more than once like they’ve done you a big favour because they’ll start to think you owe them for it.”   Lucy nods and you smile, resuming your stroll. “I’ll be inviting you to more tea parties in the future.”   “Thank—” She catches herself. “Yes, I will be looking forward to that.”   A grin spreads into your cheeks. “On a different note, I never got to ask you how your dance was with Jungkook at the debutante ball.”   “Oh, yes, the Prince was very kind. But I’m sorry if it was inappropriate, I know he’s your fiancé—”   This time, your laugh is unrestrained. She looks up at you in surprise. “Do you think I’m getting jealous?” Lucy opens her mouth and then closes it, not sure what to say and you bat the air with your hand. “Jungkook is like a little brother to me.”   If she was surprised before, now she looks entirely off guard. “It thought the Prince and you were the same age.”   You laugh stiffly. “Yes, we are, but I guess that’s what childhood friends are like.”   “Oh, I’ve never had a childhood friend.”   “Have you ever had a friend?” Your eyes meet her’s and you smile. “Because I’d be happy to be your first.”   The conversation soon ends and as Lucy walks away, you breathe another sigh of relief and pat yourself on the back at the positive interaction. Even if she’s just a countryside girl, it’s nerve-racking when you’re supposed to be the villainess. You like her and you even offered your friendship, but with each interaction, your demise is always lingering at the back of your head.   “I didn’t take you for being such a mentor.”   You whirl around, nearly startled to death by the voice and you discover a tall, dark-haired man leaning against the marble pillar with a sly smile.   “How long have you been there?”   Taehyung grins. “Not long. I was just passing by. It was a coincidence.” He turns in the direction where Lucy went. “I heard you had a tea party, how did it go?”   “It was exhausting.” You stretch your arms over your head and walk over to lean against the stone ledge next to him. “I don’t think I’m quite fit for the palace life.”   Taehyung smiles and you look up at him. “Are you going to the garden again?”   He nods and there’s a strong urge to ask him if you can come along. Just for a small break before they find you and you’re swept up in another lesson. But you’re not sure if you should—   “Would you like to come?”    Taehyung asks the question for you and your eyes meet one another’s.   There’s no one around. Not a soul in sight who could stop you from going or leaving.   You know you should keep your distance from him. You know. But…   “Okay.”   You take him up on the offer, following after him, just for a moment of indulgence.

With the arrival of Spring also comes the Hunt. It’s a rather eventful time in the castle considering it's generally symbolic of the harvests of this year, thought to prevent famine if those attending can bring back large game. An irony that isn’t lost on you. But it’s an undoubtedly lively time and one that you don’t mind.   “You better bring back a whole moose,” you mumble as you tie the blue ribbon on the belt of Jungkook’s armour, making sure it’s tight and secure. The ribbon is a gift of good luck and one of affection. You’re obligated to tie one for Jungkook considering you’re his fiancée.    “I’ll bring back a dragon,” he declares brazingly and you lightly scoff.   This is his second time participating after winning last year, but you remember he was practically shaking back then out of fear and pressure.   “Okay then. Just make sure you don’t fall off your horse this time.”    “That was only once!”   You take a step back when you’re done tying the ribbon. “I should be the one going on the hunt instead of staying back for idle chit chat. I’m pretty sure I would be able to catch something bigger than you.”   “Probably.” Jungkook grins. “You’re good enough with your sword to be a knight.”   “They’d never let me.” You sigh. God knows your mother would be mortified and probably faint and die.    But while staying back and waiting for the men to return with their kill is boring as hell, at least you’re removed from the pressure of having to hunt large prey in the first place. It’s a competition after all and one that can get quite competitive from your knowledge.   You follow Jungkook to his prized white horse and watch him caress its muzzle.    “If you win, you should give the prize to Lucy.”   His brows furrow and he turns his head to you. “Lucienne? The girl I danced with at the ball? Why?”   You shrug half-heartedly. “Because she has no one and I feel bad for her. I already have a few knights who are going to dedicate their game to me.”   Jungkook hums, not thinking much about it. “Fine by me.”   He puts his foot on the stirrup and swings himself over, sitting on top of the majestic horse.   Preparations almost complete, you turn to the King who’s seated at the top of the stands in a throne-like chair. He looks across the field with an approving expression.   Your parents are beside the King and you spare them a mere glance before turning away. You haven’t spoken to them since the end of the debutante ball and you don’t plan to. It might be childish to give them the silent treatment, but you wonder to what end they’ll try to force you.   The attendant steps up. “Is everyone ready?”   At that exact same moment, as if he was called upon, a familiar dark-haired man with eyes the hue of deep honey enters your peripheral vision. Taehyung emerges onto the field filled with knights on horses and soldiers in armour. His navy cape draped over his left shoulder sways with each movement, twinkling in the sunlight as if there were stars sewn into the fabric. He’s grasping onto a steel pole, a magical staff and his presence garners whispers from all.   “Isn’t he the bastard son?” — “The first son of the King.” — “The one born from the maid.”   They’re all startled to see him — the nobles sitting in the stands, women murmuring underneath their breaths, men watching with their eyes wide, knights and guards. And most of all, you’re stuck at a standstill.   Heart thunderous in your ears — blood drained from your face — you can’t look away when all Taehyung is looking at is you.    He comes close and his expression melts into a tender smile, a softened gaze when he reads your eyes’ fixation on him.    Jungkook, on the other hand, grins and mounts off his horse. “Taehyung?!” The Prince welcomes his brother warmly — an action not unnoticed by the crowds watching. He hugs him and lets go a moment later. “What are you doing here?”   “What can I say? I’m here to steal your victory.”   The younger laughs and you can tell he’s genuinely excited. Jungkook’s cheeks are practically pink and bulging, and his eyes have brightened. “Do you want to put a bet on that?”   “How much are you willing to wager?” Taehyung quips back.   “My pride and dignity.”   He scoffs playfully. “How about your private library collection?”   “Deal. And if I win, I want you to come to the feast tonight.”   Taehyung grins. “Looks like this year’s going to be difficult for you, Your Highness.”   “I’ll keep up.” Jungkook laughs again and gets back on his horse.   A stable-boy comes rushing over with a horse for Taehyung and before the King can utter a single word or you have a chance to speak to him, the games have begun. Taehyung glances over his shoulder at you for a single beat and then he’s off into the woods with the rest.    In the original game, Taehyung never participated in the Hunt.   He looked on from the window of his tower and even sabotaged Jungkook.    In the original game, Jungkook became injured but still conscious enough that before he fated, he declared he would give his prize to the heroine since Anastasia was so overbearing. It sparked the girl’s jealousy and was the reason why she decided to conspire with Taehyung. It was the first domino in the chain — the beginning of the villains working hand in hand.   But none of that is happening.   You wonder how far your choices will continue to deviate from the story. How many more mistakes—   “Are you alright, Anastasia?”   You jolt, torn out of your deep trance by a worried gaze. Lucy has leaned in towards you, her brows knitted together and you smile. “I’m fine. I was just thinking about something.” You quickly change the subject. “Have you given your ribbon to anyone yet?”   The pair of you are walking down the castle hall, heading towards the dining hall where you know the noble women will be having tea and making small talk while waiting for their sons and husbands.   Lucy shakes her head and unties the blue ribbon she had around her wrist.    “Why not?”   She stares at the soft satin for a second and then looks up at you, mustering a small smile. “I wouldn’t know who to give it to.”   “Well, you still have time to decide. You can give it to someone when they get back.” You hum to yourself. “How about giving it the Crown Prince?”   Lucy’s eyes are as large as saucers and she blinks thrice.   You’re a bit endeared with how surprised she seems at your suggestion. “Don’t you admire Prince Jungkook?”   “I...I do,” she admits quietly and peeks at you again. “But I wouldn’t want to overstep—”    “Not at all!” You reassure her. “Prince Jungkook likes the admiration. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind whatsoever. He might actually appreciate it.”   The girl smiles to herself and nods.   Evening sets in after meaningless conversations, cordial expressions and polite responses. The only interruptions are the horns that ring as each participant in the Hunt slowly arrives back.   Jungkook returns sweaty and out of breath, but with a whole moose like he promised. There are cheers and applauses, but more importantly, silent gasps when he beelines straight to Lucy to give her the prize. She blushes, a stuttering mess full of ‘thank yous’ and ‘it’s an honour’, and you discover Jungkook’s bashful behaviour at her sincere gratitude.    He scratches the back of his neck, diverts his vision, mutters ‘it’s fine’. It’s fascinating to watch considering he’s always been arrogant and bratty to you since the day you met him.   But you don’t get to observe their moment for long.   Not when the horns ring again and a figure appears over the horizon.    This time, no one moves. Truly stunned. Breaths hitched. Holy shit. Taehyung arrives back with a bear and he doesn’t even look like he’s broken a sweat.   “Wow!” Jungkook is the first to react, moving out of the crowd to his brother. He’s genuinely amazed and impressed, jaw dropped and brows shot to his hairline. “You did this?!”   “Didn’t I say I would win?” Taehyung grins languidly.   “This...is incredible!” Jungkook’s admiration for his brother causes the unsettled crowd to finally calm. It starts off slow, a clap here or there and then it’s applause, cheering and murmurs of acknowledgment.   “Has anyone ever brought a bear back before?” — “Did he use magic?” — “Why didn’t the eldest son participate in the Hunt before?”   And you know that it’s the first time people have clapped for Taehyung.   The attendant rushes forward, sputtering on his words. “T-The winner for this year’s Hunt is His Highness, Prince Taehyung!”   Taehyung wins a chest of gold, worth more than fifty commoner’s lifetimes and you watch as he bows his head as he receives it. You watch as he holds it and strides towards you. You watch until his arms have extended and a smile draws upon his features.   “What are you doing?” you ask, a whisper that’s befallen off your lips, spilled past the astonishment.    His gaze and smile never wavers. “I’m giving my prize to you.”   The crowd’s stirred to silence, watching the two of you, and you receive the wooden chest.   The attendant quickly announces the feast in the hall and servants begin ushering the people inside. But you continue watching Taehyung, your eyes connected to his, both grounded in the private bubble.   No one notices the King sitting on top of the stands, his brows tightly knitted.    //   The dining hall has shifted.   No longer are there laced tablecloths, towers of pastries and teapots from the afternoon. It’s large plates that have stretched along the surface, meats and cheese, breads and butters that have begun the feast. There are grandiose chairs all around three different tables, arranged based on importance and connections, conversations that have filled the enormous room.   The darkness of the night is casted away by the chandeliers overhead, illuminating the room in a golden hue. Yet, while each is high on the atmosphere, drunk by the wine, you can’t swallow the food down.    The tapping of utensils on glass has you looking over. The room simmers down.    By the coaxing of Jungkook beside him, Taehyung rises from his chair and clears his throat. It’s customary for the victor of the Hunt to give a speech and you’re guessing this is it.   “Thank you all for coming.” Taehyung appears unfamiliar and awkward addressing the crowd, quickly rushing over his words as if to get it done and over with. “I have never participated in the Hunt before this year and it was only because of beginners luck that I won. That—”    Suddenly, Taehyung looks right at you. “—and the support of those most important to me.”    Then, as quick as he stole his glance, he turns away. “I hope the harvests of Ashea will prosper this year.”   There’s thunderous applause and the feast resumes.   You’re overwhelmed, dizzy, the celebrations of the room getting to your head — laughter, questions, comments louder by ten decibels until it feels earsplitting.   You look over at Jungkook, finding that he has two blue ribbons pinned on his left side. He’s smiling widely, oblivious. Then, your head whirls over to your parents sitting down the table. They might have friendly smiles plastered on their features, but you can tell through their eyes that there’s seething anger. They’re unhappy, most likely with you, most likely with what happened earlier.   “Anastasia.” Lady Devon, who sits beside you, calls you out of your thoughts, disapproving at how your listening skills could be so poor.   You blink, pretending you were in deep thought about her discussion of silver forks and the corner of your mouth tugs. “If you’ll excuse me…”   After a delayed moment, she nods and you push your chair back, blurring into the massive paintings on the wall as you slip out to the terrace.   The night is cold.    Each exhale of yours is visible and you tug the soft pink shawl around your shoulders closer to your body for some warmth as you lean against the railings. You look up at the star-filled sky, finally able to calm yourself from the noise inside. You’ve always been glad that no matter where you are, what universe it is, there’s always the same sun, stars and moon. A constant.   One thing you don’t have to worry about.   “Is there something wrong?”   You know who it is before you’ve even turned around.    It’s a relief. You’ve waited all day to be able to speak to him, to be away from prying eyes and in a private moment. It’s easing. Your nerves take comfort in the familiarity, somehow finding his very presence soothing. Yet it’s unsettling at the same time. You have too many questions, too many suspicions and you don’t know if you want to uncover the truth.   But you gather your strength and face Taehyung. “I’m just thinking.”   “About what?”   Taehyung approaches your side. The warm light from inside the palace spills out and your shadows cast onto the grass beneath the terrace. There is not a soul in the hall when they’re all inside the dining hall, celebrations and conversations muffled through the many walls.   You inhale a breath. “Why?”   Taehyung frowns.   You ask again, “Why did you give me your prize?”   “Should I not have?”   Half of his face is illuminated, the slope of his nose and dip of his cupid’s bow sharp against the glow of the chandeliers, reminiscent of the chiaroscuro of a painting.   “That’s not it. Just…..” Why does he treat you so kindly, why does he want to go out of his way to talk to you, why does he look at you like that— “Why?”   In the original game, Anastasia was Taehyung’s chess piece and nothing more.   “Does there need to be a reason?” The corner of his mouth tugs gingerly. “I wanted to, so I did.”   “But there’s so many eligible bachelorettes you could’ve them them to, like Lady Myoi or Lady Paxton—”   “None of them matter,” he injects without needing to blink or think twice. “Not like you do.”   Your head snaps up and your eyes meet. Taehyung gazes at you tenderly, searching your irises with a small smile and he swallows hard. His voice lowers when he asks, “Are you cold?”    Oddly enough, even with the chilly wind whisking through the branches and swaying the leaves, you aren’t cold if he’s here.    Yet suddenly, Taehyung snaps his fingers and you’re engulfed with the warmth of an embrace. It’s the heat of a winter fire crackling underneath the mantle, the Summer sun casting down on your cheeks, and it travels from your toes to your head, and you can’t help the giggle that spills from you.    “What did you just do?”   He grins and leans closer to you. “It’s a simple warmth spell.”   Your brow cocks. “How much magic do you exactly know?”    He even managed to get that bear without looking like he had to fight. Your efforts to get him not to tap into magic all those years ago were in vain, but you have to admit it’s pretty cool.   Taehyung looks away, smile easing. “It doesn’t matter how much magic I have. It’s not enough for what I really want.”    Your breath hitches in your throat. The implications of his words welcomes the tension back into the air that had snuck itself away for a simple moment. But it isn’t uncomfortable. It isn’t the kind of tension that comes when you’re speaking to the Duke and Duchess, not the stiffness that arrived when you were being scolded by Edith. No. It’s different. It’s….intimate.    Especially when he sneaks a glance at you and you hold it, eyes fixated into his.   None of you speak, breathe, bat a lash. Not when Taehyung starts to lean in close. Not when you begin to feel the heat of his cheeks on your skin, when you can hear the thunderous noise of his heartbeat bruising his rib cage. His lash tickles yours. But before your lips can brush—   You push him away.   Taehyung stumbles back, nearly falling over, but he grasps the railings.   Your breath heaves and you stare at him in shock, in horror with what was about to happen. And before anything can be said or done, you turn away.   “Wait! Anastasia!” Taehyung calls after you. “I’m sorry!”   “I….I need to leave.”   You can’t deviate from the story more than you already have. This is a mistake.   In the midst of your panic, you return to the dining hall and cut through the room. It’s the quickest way back to your chambers, so you don’t hesitate to move your steps, never once looking behind your shoulder. Luckily, Taehyung doesn’t follow after you. He can’t.    But while each is celebrating and distracted with their company, a certain girl notices your distraught and frantic form beelining to the massive doors.   Something doesn’t sit right in her, so she immediately stands and bows her head to the woman she was speaking to. “If you can excuse me, thank you, I’ll be right back.”   Lucy follows after you, eyes pinned on your backside.   The only people who pay any mind is your mother, the Duchess of Devereux. Her senses are sharp and she taps your father on the shoulder until he follows her line of sight to the girl.   The castle grounds are dark, the moon waxing but not yet full enough to provide a bright light. But enough is shed for you to see. It’s enough for shadows to cast along the stone walls. You would never walk outside at this time of night, but you need air. More of it. Something you can breathe in and hope will clear the cloudiness inside your mind, the noise that’s earsplitting.   A gentle tap on your shoulder has you screaming.   “It’s me!” Lucy puts her hands out, her eyes wide. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you.”   You catch your breath, steadying it and you swallow hard. “W-What are you doing outside? I thought you were still celebrating the feast.”   “I saw you walking by and I thought something was wrong and I got worried, I’m sorry.” She looks at you when the silence is ongoing. The concern is evident through her knitted brows. “Are you alright, Anastasia?”   It seems like everyone is asking you that question today.   A question you don’t know how to respond to yourself.   But you manage a nod and a smile. “I’m fine. I was just tired. I was thinking of retiring to my room early.”   “Oh, okay.”   You step towards her and grasp her hands within your own. “Can you do me a favour, Lucy, and keep Jungkook company tonight? He might be looking for me too and I don’t want him to be worried.”   “I will.” She nods. “But do you want me to escort you to your room? I could call someone—”   “No, it’s quite alright. I’ll be fine.” You smile and let go of her. “You should go back now before someone goes looking for you.”   Lucy nods for a second time and she bids you a goodnight as she walks back.   You’re left by yourself and you turn to tread your own way. The weight of so many decisions lie upon your shoulders and slow down your steps. You wonder why you have to bear the heavy burden of knowing your future, of knowing all of theirs while trying to escape your own fate.    It feels like you’re a pawn trying to control the whole chess board.   You exhale a breath, watching the cloud dissipate and unbeknownst to you, there’s a rustle in the garden’s bushes.   “That’s her, isn't it?”   Two shadows emerge from the darkness and before your ears can pick up on the noise, before you can turn around and meet the figures, a cloth is clamped over your mouth. Your shout is muffled and arms begin to drag you in the opposite direction of the castle.   What the fuc—    Immediately, your elbow juts out and the man behind you sputters, cowering over with a curse. You manage to slip out of his loosened grip, about to sprint and yell. Until another overtakes you and grabs hold of your wrists, yanking you back.   “Wench!” A cold blade sits at the juncture of your throat and you freeze, breaths tearing out of your throat frantically. You can fight him. Years of swordsmanship didn’t render you useless after all. But his threat delays you— “Shut your mouth if you don’t want Baron of Liza dead too.”   What?   Your mouth is stuffed with cloth and you’re roughly ripped into the darkness.   At the same time, Taehyung, still at the terrace and about to leave, turns around.

[zaffrenotes]

[TRR] Kairos

Kairos - Part 12

Pairing: Liam x Riley, Liam x OC Series Rating/Warnings: 18+; language; series will include ns*w 🍋 scenes Chapter Rating/Warnings: G Author’s Note: * All main characters belong to Pixelberry, I’m just borrowing them * Kairos (καιρός) is a word in Greek that translates to “the right time” or “the right moment to act” * Liam’s wife asks about “the one that got away” one night over dinner, and Liam recounts a relationship from his past * This is my submission for @wackydrabbles​​ Prompt 89: This isn't what I had in mind, but okay. * Author’s Note 2: * I apologize if this chapter feels choppy; I haven't updated this story since January, and writing is H A R D, but I want to finish this AU. I know how it ends, I just have to *gestures at the air* get there. * Word Count: 1708

Catch up with previous chapters here

Taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added or removed for this series): @ao719 @blackcatkita @debramcg1106 @ofpixelsandscribbles @callmeellabella @smalltalk88 @aestheticartsx @bbrandy2002 @burnsoslow @choiceskatie @darley1101 @dcbbw @gardeningourmet @iplaydrake @liamxs-world @rainbowsinthestorm @riseandshinelittleblossom @superharriet @texaskitten30 @theroyalheirshadowhunter @the-soot-sprite // @alyssalauren @clairexoxo100 @cordonianroyalty @cordonian-literature @gkittylove99 @gnatbrain @jared2612 @kingliam2019 @mom2000aggie @pink-diamond13 @princessleac1 @queenjilian @sfb123 @txemrn @yourmajesty09

The evening carried on, and it was nearly impossible for Liam to pull himself away from one conversation to the next. Most of the new suitors vied for his attention to make a good impression, various nobles edged their way into conversations to discuss official business, and his friends made every effort to steal him away for short reprieves. He was dancing when he caught a flash of Max’s dress near the edge of the dance floor.

Brief glimpses and glances of a link to Liam’s almost-love was all The Fates seemed to grant for the duration of the ball, despite his best efforts to carve out a moment with Max. The irony wasn’t lost on him; having found a connection to Elia after years had passed, without a way to speak with her sister. His hand warmed against his dancing partner’s palm as they waltzed with other couples.

“What’s troubling you tonight? Besides the obvious farce of this whole ordeal.” A pair of cherry red lips curled into a sympathetic grin, and Liam nodded in silent agreement. “Something other than counting steps is running through your mind.”

Liam adjusted his grip on Olivia’s hand as he led her across the floor, quickly scanning the crowd for another glimpse of Max. “I require the assistance of a dear friend,” he answered quietly, twirling her in a circle. “Someone who knows of secret passages in the palace to remain undetected, who can also speak with one of the new ladies at court.”

One of Olivia’s brows arched in Liam’s direction. “Has someone managed to catch your eye already?”

“Not the way you think,” he replied. “It’s a long story, and right now I’m grasping at straws, but it’s…something.” As Liam twirled his childhood friend in another circle, the expression in his eyes conveyed the seriousness of his request.

Olivia’s back tensed when she looked up to meet her friend’s gaze, though they moved effortlessly through the song. “What do you need me to do, Li?”

“There’s a young woman here, wearing a peacock ballgown. Her name is Max.”

“There’s some irony,” Olivia giggled. “Maxwell’s probably talking her ear off over her dress alone.”

“I haven’t been able to speak with her since we were introduced.”

“Tell me when and where, I’ll make sure you converse with her before morning.”

Liam shook his head at the suggestion. “That’s not the kind of conversation I need to have, Liv. I do need to speak with her though. It could mean cancelling the rest of the social season before it’s had a chance to begin, in a good way.”

Olivia arched her brow at Liam again, as the music began to come to an end. “I’m going to need a full story about this very soon, if she’s a means of ending the season.”

Liam let out an anxious laugh. “Soon enough, of course. Get her as close as possible to my office without being seen.” He looked over Olivia’s shoulder to see Bastien by the ballroom doors, nodding at him just before Bastien said something to another member of the Kings Guard. “Enjoy the rest of the ball, I’ve got to go over details for tomorrow’s events. Shouldn’t take longer than an hour.”

--

Nearly an hour after Liam departed the ballroom, he sighed with relief to enjoy the silence in his office once Regina and her team of event planners were satisfied with preparations for the garden party. He poured himself a bit of scotch in a glass as a nightcap, glancing at the clock on the wall. Most of the guests had ventured home while he went over checklists with Regina, minus the suitors and their sponsors that would live at the palace for the next several weeks.

Another weary sigh slipped past Liam’s lips as he returned to the ornate desk in the office, and he removed the cufflinks Madeleine had given to him as a gift. He rolled up his sleeves, trying to ignore the soft ticking of the clock, wondering if Olivia had managed to get a hold of Max. Princess Maria Amelita Xamira Basilio, who had a sister that went by the name Elia. There were too many similarities in her siblings names and the fact that Max looked so similar in appearance to Elia.

He’d opened the laptop on the desk and was about to type Elia’s real name into the search window, when there was a knock at the door. Liam rushed out of his seat to answer, loudly whispering a name when he turned the knob. “Olivia? Is that you?” He was surprised to see Max in the hallway by herself. “Your Highness, please, come in,” he said, stepping aside to let Max pass. “Did anyone see you?”

Max bowed her head to Liam as she stepped into his office. “No, Lady Olivia led me through a number of passages from my room, and distracted the very tall, silver-haired guard down the hall.”

Liam chuckled softly. “That would be Bastien. He’s always had a bit of a soft spot for Olivia, ever since we were children.” He closed the door shut before walking towards the liquor cabinet. “May I offer you something to drink?”

“No, thank you,” she replied, taking a seat in one of the small couches. “To what do I owe this clandestine invitation?”

Liam sat down in the matching sofa across from Max, clasping his hands together as he carefully chose what to say next. “Max, you and I are both aware of the reason you’re here, participating in the social season. Under other circumstances, I’m certain you would have caught my eye, just as you did earlier this evening.”

Max chewed a tiny spot of her inner cheek. “There’s a ‘but’, isn’t there?”

“The reason you caught my eye was because you bear a striking resemblance to someone I met several years ago, before I met and married my first wife, Riley. Someone who, until tonight, I thought was lost to me.”

“Are you saying I’ve got a secret twin you’ve already met? This isn’t what I had in mind, but okay.” She grinned conspiratorially at him. “Who’s this doppelgänger that’s stuck with you?”

Liam sucked in a breath before answering. “As it were, it’s your sister. Elia.”

Max blinked at him silently, her eyes welling up with glossy tears at the mention of her name. “You…you knew Elia? When? When did you see her? Have you heard from her?” The questions tumbled out all at once, as Max tried to compose herself.

He picked up a gilded box of tissues from a side table, offering it to her. Max pulled two from the box, dabbing at the corners of her eyes, waiting for a response. “It’s been a number of years,” he began. “She was vacationing in Greece, just before she was supposed to return to university to study law.”

Max stopped dabbing at her tears to look up and study Liam’s face. “Oh my god, it’s you. You’re the guy.”

Liam’s brows pinched together. “She mentioned me?”

“Very briefly,” she responded. “Only that she met someone that gave her a reason to laugh every day, and seemed to understand what she – what we,” she paused, motioning to herself, “were going through, being…high profile?”

“That’s one way to describe it,” Liam chuckled softly. “She never said outright that she was a princess, but after we parted ways, many of the things we shared in our conversations made sense.” He looked up to see a puzzled expression on Max’s face. “Her fluency in languages, the way she could tell stories about growing up in vivid detail while overlooking things like ‘I grew up in a palace’ or ‘my parents were especially strict with me and my siblings’…”

“Oh by the way, that’s because they’re the king and queen?” Max scoffed lightly, shaking her head.

“I tried to look for her, for quite some time after that trip,” Liam added. “Only…my efforts were in vain, as the names she used were all nicknames. Even her own name wasn’t fully hers. Elia de Leon.”

Max sniffled and the puzzled expression returned to her face. “De Leon? That’s…our great-grandmother’s name.”

“I suppose that makes sense as well, now that I’m familiar with your family name. Had I searched for Elia Basilio, I might have found out about the royal connection, not that it would’ve changed my opinion of her.” Liam ran a hand across his face, his jawline and chin already rough with stubble. “You haven’t heard from her since that summer either? Anyone in your family?”

“No,” Max answered. “When her personal guard called the morning he was supposed to escort her home, he told my parents the apartment was empty…that she must have snuck away the night before.”

“But I was with her until morning.”

“What?”

“I…” Liam hesitated, taking in a breath. “I had dinner with Elia the night before she was supposed to leave. We talked long into the night, and I told her I was a prince. I even offered to let her stay with me here to take more time and consider alternative options to create some distance with your parents.”

“Because they wanted to marry her off, right?”

“Correct,” Liam nodded. “She only told me it was for a political alliance, to put your family name in a positive light after Mariela’s marriage to someone caused trouble.”

Max sighed with indignation. “That guy, ugh. That’s a story for another evening.” She began to wring the tissue between her hands. “But you saw Elia the next morning?”

“Yes, in fact I was the one that slipped out while she was still sleeping, long after dawn. I stopped for a coffee in the café below where she’d been staying, on my way to return home as well, and I…” Liam paused, recalling the man in the café that morning, remembering the other patron. “You said she had a personal security guard assigned to her?”

“Beni…Benigno, yes,” Max replied.

“Do you have a photo of him?”

“I can do better than that,” Max answered, pulling her phone from the pocket of her cardigan. “He’s here as my security and chaperone for the duration of my stay.”

[annabethy]

“don’t lie to me” + percabeth if u are up to!!!

“Don’t lie to me.” Percabeth teacher au!! <3

Annabeth couldn’t think of a better way to spend her mornings than with Percy. He was always so sweet and warm when he first woke up, making him the perfect person to snuggle up to in the middle of a New York winter.

The ride to work was no less lovely with her sitting in the passenger seat, a steaming cup of coffee that Percy had made “with love” in her right hand, and her left hand intertwined with his. Watching the snow fall in a comfortable silence was so delicate and magical, and it’s truly the best way to start her day.

As she’s walking into the school with him, hand in hand, she leans closer to him, using his arm as a buffer from the biting wind. Percy just gives her a lopsided smile, something akin to adoration in his eyes, and pulled her into his side. There weren’t many students around this early in the morning, so she doesn’t bother trying to separate herself from him. She doesn’t even know if she could because he’s acting as her personal heater, and that may be too good to give up.

“You look adorable,” Percy comments as he holds open the door to the school. “The red nose really tops off your whole look.”

Annabeth sniffles, trying to subtly wipe her nose with the hand that’s still holding a travel cup of coffee. “Don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m being serious,” he whispers playfully, bumping her arm with his elbow and prompting her to roll her eyes fondly. He guides her through the halls of the front office, reaching for her hand and lacing them back together. “You always look pretty, but right now you look so huggable.”

She can feel the flush still on her cheeks, but she doesn’t know if it was from the cold or his kind words. Almost a year of dating and he still made her feel just as giddy as she did on day one. “I love you.”

“Couldn’t possibly love me as much as I love you,” he quips, but he presses a kiss to her temple before changing the subject. “So, I was thinking. After work, cuddles and a movie?”

“Only if we can get snacks first,” she says, biting her lip in a smile. If there’s anything she loves more than waking up next to the love of her life, it’s getting to spend Friday night with just the two of them. There were no kids to bother them or tests to grade. It was a time for the two of them to just exist with one another, and she cherished every week when she got to go home with him.

“We can stop for snacks, but then we’re watching Finding Nemo.”

“What’s with your obsession with the ocean?”

“I think clownfish are cute,” he answers, because of course he thinks clownfish are cute. “All fish are cute. That’s why I teach marine.”

Annabeth expected nothing less of him, and she decides to humor him. “Did you know I once had two goldfish and I named them Ren and Nephr?”

“Unique names,” Percy says, sidestepping a kid frantically making their way down the hall.

“They both mean kidney.”

“You would, Chase.”

“I also had a fish named Ornith.”

“That means bird,” Percy states.

“I liked the irony,” she tells him, taking a sip of her coffee. It’s still steaming in the cup, and it burns her tongue slightly. “Regardless, I think your obsession with the ocean is alarming.”

“At least I don’t go around screaming law of cosines,” Percy says, pointedly looking at her. “I didn’t even know what that was until you started crying about how stupid they were last week when you were grading papers.”

“That’s because they are stupid, I swear to god. They were all I-don’t-know-when-to-use-law-of-sines-versus-law-of-cosines like it’s hard!”

“I’m sure it’s so easy,” he says, but his laugh gives his sarcasm away. “You just have to accept that you were a fluke in the system, and no one will ever be a smart as you.”

Annabeth smacks him upside the head with her cup of coffee lightly but she’s still smiling. It’s moments like this that really get to her. She could just be herself around him, and they could tease each other but know that they love those things about each other at the same time.

She loved him.

Annabeth bites at the inside of her cheek, loving the way he looks at her out of the corner of his eyes, before she slowly pops the lid of the coffee off to try and get it to cool down faster.

Percy’s arm is snug around her waist, so she doesn’t look up as she continues walking. She blows around the rim of the cup, the steam swirling up in the air. It smells mouthwateringly delicious and it’s starting to cool off, so she brings it to her lips just as they round a corner, and—

Someone slams into them, and suddenly the only thing Annabeth can register is pain.

“Shit.” The scalding coffee seeps through her shirt almost immediately, and her skin feels like it’s on fire. The cup falls from her hand, the rest of the contents splattering on the floor, but she can’t be bothered to care as she tries to break the shirt’s contact with her blistering torso.

“—you okay?”

Annabeth’s mind comes reeling back as Percy’s voice reach her ears, and she can pick up the frantic edge to it.

“Annabeth,” he prompts again, his hand sliding down her shoulder. “Are you okay?”

Instead of answering him, she glances to the person cowering in front of her, and her skin is on fire for a completely different reason.

Octavian stares back at her, terror clear as day on his face, and she is about to explode. This kid was always the center of something, causing problems with every single breath he takes. He had no shame, and he always had the audacity to do whatever it is he wants to do, and now he’s ruined her favorite part of the day, and she can’t breathe.

“Octavian,” she says tightly, scrunching her nose in mock politeness. “Did you maybe think it would be a good idea to check where you’re going?”

The kid stammers.

“It would be smart not to go running around the halls and bumping into people carrying hot drinks,” she says, her voice dangerously steady. “God, you’re so—” There’s so much she wants to say, to scream, at him, but even in her heightened sense of rage, she knows she can’t, so she clenches her fist hard enough for her nails to indent her skin and she pauses for a second before she storms off in the direction of her room.

She doesn’t look to make sure Percy is behind her, too busy trying to hold back rising tears, and she really doesn’t know why she feels this way. All she knows is everything was perfect, and now it’s not.

As she unlocks her classroom door, Percy’s hand is settling over the dip in her waist. She steps inside the room, and she doesn’t know what exactly she was going to do except perhaps have a meltdown, but she never got the chance because Percy wastes no time before pulling his sweater over his head and holding it out towards her.

“What are you doing?” she asks miserably, still forcing back her frustrated tears.

“Take it,” he says, gazing at her earnestly.

Annabeth bites her lip, her eyes glossing over. He was too good for her. “I’m sorry,” she chokes out. She doesn’t know how to express what she was sorry for, but she has a feeling he knows.

“Don’t be sorry.” Percy’s arms seek out the bottom of the sweater so he can help her into it. He slides it over her and once it’s on, he reaches forward to tilt her head towards him so he can give her a forehead kiss. “It was an accident.”

“Octavian was an accident,” she whimpers, dropping her head against his chest.

She doesn’t understand why she feels so upset. She just knows that she doesn’t like the hole in the pit of her stomach or the tightness of her throat.

“Why are you so sad?” Percy asks, cupping her cheeks and pouting.

“Today was going so well,” she complains, wincing away from his fingers that go to wipe her tears.

And maybe she does know why she’s so upset. Mornings were her favorite time of day because she got to be with Percy. She got to see him in ways that no one else did and listen to his words that he doesn’t say when anyone else is around. When they’re at work five days a week surrounded by children, he didn’t get to show her affection in the ways he does outside of school. Morning was her chance to see that.

Never had something interrupted those perfect moments before. Not until now.

The moment had been so perfect, so private and loving, and it was destroyed.

“You told me I looked adorable,” she says, sniffling. It was the only way she knew how to explain the torrent of emotions she was feeling. “Now I have a big coffee stain on my shirt, and I look disgusting.”

“You still look adorable.”

“Don’t lie to me,” she chides.

“I’m not lying,” he says softly. “You always look adorable.”

She just drops her forehead back against him pitifully.

“You’re the prettiest person I’ve ever seen,” Percy says. “I tell you that all the time.”

“You’re a big fat liar.”

Percy’s lips tilt up in a smile. “I’m not. In fact, you actually look even better right now, all cute and warm in my hoodie.”

Annabeth looks down as though for the first time realizing she was wearing it. It was too big on her, but it smelled like him, the picture of a sunny day at the beach, warm on the sand.

“You’re so so so pretty, especially when you’re wearing my clothes.” Percy’s arms wrap around her squeezing tightly, and she feels secure in his embrace. “Don’t let this ruin your day. Octavian’s stupid. This isn’t new information.”

“But our morning is ruined.”

Percy squeezes her tighter, slightly swaying back and forth. “Lucky for you, it’s Friday. We can go home and pretend it’s morning again and take lots of naps.”

“And watch Finding Nemo?”

“Oh, yes. That part’s nonnegotiable.”

Annabeth’s lips pull up at that as she nestles deeper against him. “I love you.”

Percy’s response is an affirmative hum and a kiss on the top of her head.

So maybe her morning hadn’t gone quite as planned, and maybe she was overreacting just a bit, but there’s always tomorrow, and there’s always their Friday night snuggles.

As long as she has Percy, she figures everything would be alright.

[thoughts-on-bangtan]

The Bias of Body Language

By Admin 1, with help from Admin 2

“About social media…it’s easy to interpret. People think they’re moral or ethical. They talk about themselves thinking they’re logically perfect. In fact, in a relationship, even my mother doesn’t know me, for example. About Yoongi or Hoseok who have lived with me for 10 years, it’s hard to say I know them well. Do I really know the person? It’s hard to know myself. “I know him and he’s like this”. “He’s such a person”. I thought this is quite dangerous.”

-- Namjoon, vlive “Namjun’s 7 Behind”, 57:30 onward

Everything in our life is centered around biases, preferences, our partiality toward everything, regardless if it’s about big or trivial matters. Instead of having a single cellphone model for everyone, you can choose one based on your bias. Walk into a fashion store and depending on your bias you’ll gravitate toward darker clothes, longer dresses, shorter skirts, pants, and so on. Someone could present you the very same dress but in two different colors and despite them being exactly the same, your bias, your preference, will dictate that you’ll think the yellow dress is hideous while the black one is gorgeous. Yet the next person might think the exact opposite.

If that weren’t enough there’s also something called a confirmation bias, which is characterized by a tendency to search for, interpret, favor, and recall information in a way that confirms or supports your prior beliefs or values. Both these things, our bias and our confirmation bias, are something we come across and tend to apply to content, in this case, BTS content specifically, and how we view and interpret body language.

Have you ever noticed how when it comes to certain scenes, moments, and/or interactions, suddenly there are thousands upon thousands of body language specialists within ARMY? Suddenly everyone will try to convince you that “based on my experience as body language expert/someone who’s amazing at reading body language this interactions means that”, coming from people who prior to it might’ve never mentioned being such expert or who are plain wrong yet try to convince you otherwise to feed into their own confirmation bias.

Interesting though is the fact that claiming that you’re able to interpret someone’s body language in an infallible manner based on a three-minute video is, to put it lightly, plain wrong and impossible at that. In order to do something like that you’d have to study that person 24/7 in every kind of situation imaginable, take note of every minute detail, interpret it all and, on top of all that, be able to have a conversation with that person to ask them to confirm or deny your theories. Once you’d have all of that, you’d be able to attempt a proper body language reading, and chances are you might still not get it right each time, or at all. Every person behaves a little differently, has their own behavioral pattern, things characteristic for them, and acts a certain way with different people and in different situations, so just because you can read one person right in a singular given situation, doesn't mean it’s the same for every person and every situation.

An example I find very curious is Jungkook during their most recent performance of Life Goes On at the GDAs. When you watch it, you’d think that yes, he liked the miniature set of No More Dream, but that’s it. He was calm, focused, professional. And yet when you watch the behind the scene glimpse at the performance, and watch him specifically, you notice that he was constantly focusing on the set and having to stop himself from messing with it. (x)

What does that tell us? Easy. We only see small glimpses of BTS, of their behavioral patterns, and even the things we do see are polished, controlled, and not entirely natural, so to speak. That isn’t a bad thing by any means, it’s what you’d expect of a professional performer who still is a human like everyone else.

So, if we get body language wrong with something like that, how can these “experts” be sure their interpretations are correct? Even more so when you take into account that every person has some sort of tic, or a number of them. It can be something like absentmindedly playing with a ring, licking/wetting your lips or biting them, scratching or messing with the cuticles on your nails, tapping your foot, or a million other things. There’s also cultural influences/norms that shape certain behaviors in ways someone from another culture might not understand or will interpret completely differently since it means something else entirely in their culture.

And here is where a lot of people, these “experts” as well as those unable to put aside their bias and confirmation bias, go wrong.

More below the cut:

To preface the next two sections, a little disclaimer: I don’t mean to badmouth people like this, after all putting aside these biases is tricky and staying objective about something you’re passionate about is a hard thing to do, as well as distinguishing between an objective observation and a bias one, but it doesn’t change the fact that sometimes people purposefully present their bias opinions as facts. That doesn’t necessarily cause issues, but sometimes it can have a very negative ripple effect that can affect and influence others, taint their opinions and cloud their objectivity when it comes to certain things.

That’s when it becomes a problem.

Section One – non-shipping related interactions between the members

You’d think this would be the more unproblematic section, but turns out it isn’t, though it’s problematic in a different way. While most casual fans or OT7 ARMY watch and enjoy interactions between the members without looking too deeply at them, without analyzing and trying to interpret things, therefore leave aside most biases, there are others who do not.

OT1s for instance go into Episodes, Bangtan B*mbs, or RUN with a bias and a need to feed their confirmation bias, be it by finding “evidence” to prove that their fav is being left out or is mistreated or a plethora of other (usually) negative ideas. People like that don’t watch interactions as just friends trying to make each other laugh or playing off of each other, but instead look for things to get upset or up in arms about because their bias going in is that their fav isn’t happy (because that’s what they want to be the truth in many cases).

Or a situation where a member might be a bit more quiet or stiff. Quickly “body language specialists” jump in and interpret this as that member being unhappy, being overworked, wanting to quit and not getting along with the other members, being bullied or silenced by them. When in reality it’s far more likely he just wasn’t feeling well, was tired or maybe his back hurt. But rationality has no place in a bias view, when the sole purpose for that person to watch that content is to find evidence that feeds their confirmation bias.

You could argue that maybe those people are simply looking out for their fav, just want what’s best for him and that they mean well, but do they really? How come those without that narrow bias lens see the same interaction completely differently? If those same people would take a step back and switch from their bias lens to an objective one, would they still see all that negative “evidence”? Chances are they would not.

Section Two – Shipping related interactions between the members

The irony of calling this section in such a manner is that oftentimes these interactions have no actual shipping relation, hold no proof of anything romantic whatsoever. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

When shippers sit down to watch a piece of BTS content, they enter the video with a clear bias—X ship is real, as example—so they are (only) on the lookout for interactions between their ship and interpret those interactions in a shipping context, while disregarding/ignoring interactions with other members in many cases since those are uninteresting, or when they care it’s only to again feed into their bias. They look for any piece of evidence to feed their confirmation bias, which sometimes goes as far as completely misconstruing, misinterpreting, and manipulating interactions in order to twist them to fit their bias.

Here’s also where body language and tics come back into the conversation. A lot of ship evidence videos on YouTube rely on body language, somehow every creator being an expert in this field and their interpretations are usually backed by thousands of comments confirming that they are right, that it’s the only logical way of interpreting things. Because that interpretation fits their agenda, feeds their confirmation bias. The funny thing though is that many of the things presented as evidence can be easily explains in a different way once you put aside your bias.

Take wetting/biting your lip as example. Thousands of videos edit together interview moments in which member X supposedly looks at member Y while wetting his lip. That, of course, is taken as ship evidence, interpreted as proof that member X is in love with member Y, that they feel romantic/erotic attraction for member Y showcased through that lip bite. That though is a very bias way of interpreting that action, especially since it removes all context and logic.

Let’s try looking at it a bit more objectively:

I don’t know if you noticed this, but the more you wear a mask, the more your lips are dry and chapped, which explains the need for lip balm. What’s that remind us of? Exactly. The members have been seen countless times using lip balm, even on stage, and they also wear masks a lot, as you do in a pandemic and also because it’s a completely normal thing to do in Asia. Why do you use lip balm? Because your lips are dry. Why do you bite your lip? Because they are dry/chapped, and/or because it’s a tic.

Now, if we look at that same scene again, member X looking at member Y while biting his lip and take into account the above deduction, isn’t it a far more likely explanation than member X feeling the need to showcase his attraction for member Y in that very moment, especially if they are at an interview about their new album, for example? Furthermore, does looking at someone necessarily mean it’s an action done out of love? Isn’t it far more likely that member X looked at member Y because Y was saying something and it’s the polite thing to do, or X was simply looking in Y’s general direction since you have to look somewhere, can’t just stare at the ceiling or close your eyes, right?

Another example I’d like to discuss is how “body language experts” interpret the very same action in two drastically different ways depending on which bias it’s supposed to feed. This point, I think, highlights just how ridiculous and bias these body language interpretations really are, and how unreliable they truly are.

Let’s take member A lying down and cuddling with member B, which is interpreted as two lovely boyfriends cuddling in bed, but when member A lies down and cuddles with member C it’s interpreted as just two bros and nothing more. Even though the scene looks exactly the same. A and B cuddling feeds their confirmation bias, so A and C cuddling is dismissed and downgraded to not interfere with their bias. This is oftentimes done subconsciously, because they are so deep into their bias mindset, they see no other way of interpreting these actions. Even though the basic scene is the same, yet occasionally it might actually come across more relaxed and “romantic” when A and C do it as opposed to A and B, but since that doesn’t fit the confirmation bias, it’s dismissed and interpreted otherwise.

And this is where we circle back to Namjoon’s quote at the beginning of this whole thing: claiming you can interpret their body language with a 100% certainty is a foolish and naïve statement because all we get to see are small glimpses of their days. We see what they want us to see, the best version of themselves, we see edited clips and controlled behavior, the members putting forth their best faces, their nicest smiles, and thinking that just because your bias tells you that a touch of a thigh or upper arm or bitten lip with their face turned in the general direction of another member must mean something or another, it doesn’t mean it’s truly so.

We can theorize, we can analyze, we can make jokes and have fun, but the moment people get into fights or start hate against other members solely based on bias body language interpretations, that’s where we have an issue. And that happens all the time. And it doesn’t just happen with their body language, but also with their words, but that’s an entirely different can of worms I might try to dive into another time if you’d be interested in my thoughts on it. Let me know.

TL;DR: Body language is a very complex thing, interpreting it in an infallible way basically impossible, so making claims of exactly being able to interpret it without bias is naïve, as is believing those interpretations. In order to truly be able to interpret/understand the dynamic between members, body language alone isn’t enough in any kind of way. It isn’t a good enough source or tool to make proper judgements, it’s actually the weakest and most lacking one, especially when it isn’t done in an 100% unbias manner.

The only thing body language can tell us if someone’s a good actor or not, but figuring out true feelings between the members solely based on it, especially when these interpretations are usually skewed due to a bias, isn’t really possible. Even less so if you don’t also take into account the context in which whatever interaction you are interpreting is happening in.