#it’s almost worse bc i don’t care but i Do enough that it like itches my brain. and i’m like PLSSSSS give it up it’s been FIVE YRS (started

[lesbianlenas]

i’m actually insane tonight i wish the gunshot (alleged) hit me

[plus-size-reader]

The Trouble with Thrifting

Spencer Reid x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 1718 words

Warnings: none 

Summary: The reader goes thrifting with Spencer and gets super frustrated bc nothing fits

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Days off from a job like yours were rare. They weren’t common, especially with the amount of monsters there were out there, but they did happen sometimes. 

Every once and awhile, you got a day off when you and Spencer could both sleep in a little later than normal

...And today was one of those days. 

You rolled over in bed, stretching out fully in the soft, plush space, only to find Spencer’s side of the bed cool and empty. Though, you weren’t surprised by that.  

Spencer had always been a little bit of an early bird, and nothing was going to change that. Not even a few spare hours in bed. 

There were just too many things to be doing right now to be in bed. Spencer’s mind just ran too fast and it made getting a restful night of sleep difficult. 

You understood that. 

Without even thinking about it, you sat up to find him at the foot of the bed, his nose in a book. 

“Good morning, sleepyhead” he hummed, finding you there with a tired look in your eyes. The sheets were pooled around you haphazardly and you yawned deeply as he addressed you, but you smiled nonetheless. 

“Morning Dr.” you allowed, stretching your arms up as far as you could in your sitting position, a small groan escaping you as you moved. 

You two didn’t have anything planned for today, for once in the last few weeks, and it was nice to have the whole day ahead of you. Though, you did have something in mind that could be fun. 

You and Spencer had been talking about going thrift shopping for a while, but you’d yet to have time until now. Today was the first time in quite a while you’d gotten a chance. 

...But before you could even mention it, Spencer had already stood from where he’d been sitting and made his way over to you. 

“I was thinking we could check out a few of those little shops downtown today? What do you think?” he offered, pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

It was quite the offer, an offer you weren’t going to refuse and Spencer knew it. He knew that you had been looking forward to this forever, and he wanted to take you. 

After all, he had been looking for a chance to take you shopping forever, and this was just the chance he was looking for. 

It was perfect. 

“We could do that, and we could even go to that sandwich shop you like for lunch” you hummed, thinking about it with a nod. 

Today was going to be awesome, absolutely awesome and you weren’t going to let it pass you by. This was something that was rare for you and Spencer, but that only made it more special. 

This wasn’t some quick coffee on the jet in the middle of a case, or dinner that was interrupted by a job. Right now, there was nothing that could go wrong. 

Right now, the two of you just got to be a normal couple, on a shopping trip.

Nothing was better than that.

...Or so you thought. 

You had only gotten to the second shop by the time you wanted to quit. Nothing was worth the kind of trouble you were having in that fitting room, and you couldn’t get over it. 

It was killing you. 

You had a hard enough time shopping fast fashion when it came to getting something to fit, but thrift shopping was even worse. 

There were already fewer options available in thrift stores and vintage boutiques but that only further drove down the chances of you finding something in your size. 

Now, Spencer was in the middle of sorting through a very mismatched set of teacups when you came out of the fitting room, eyes red and head down. 

It was clear to him almost immediately that you’d been crying but you did nothing to acknowledge it. 

Instead, you just joined him in his fiddling, without a word and pretended like you hadn’t just dropped an entire stack of clothes against the wall. 

You couldn’t wear a single piece you found, not even that super cute blouse you had immediately fallen in love with, the one with the shiny buttons in the front that your eyes had sparkled upon seeing. 

Nothing was going to make that any better. 

Not even watching Spencer meticulously try to find the china that matched the set was enough to make you feel better. It just made you feel so sick to not be able to find anything. 

Especially after how excited you’d been over all this. 

You hadn’t stopped talking about all the cute thrift stores right downtown from the apartment you and Spencer had just bought since you moved in. 

...But now, your body language had completely changed. 

��What is it? What happened?” Spencer wondered, catching on immediately to the negative change in your attitude. You seemed as if your heart was broken, and that was hard to miss. 

For Spencer, especially. 

You two were basically inseparable between living together and working together, and it was hard for him to ignore the obvious shift in your mood. 

It was like an itch he couldn’t scratch, and it wouldn’t go away until he found out what was wrong with you. 

Not that you made him wait very long. 

That was all it took before you completely shut down. You had a lot of control over your emotions as a general rule but not where your body was concerned. 

This was the one thing that triggered you beyond reprieve, and nothing was going to change that. 

Usually, you did this sort of thing by yourself so you never had to explain the way it made you feel. However, that was one thing you couldn’t get away from with Spencer here. 

Now that you were overwhelmed, you couldn’t just leave and go home like you normally would. With Spencer here, you had to tell him the truth. 

There wasn’t any hiding it anymore. 

“I can’t wear any of this. Can you believe that? All the stuff I found, it doesn’t fit” you huffed, ignoring the burning in your eyes as you thought about it. The dressing room had been hot, and stuffy, like a prison. 

It killed you. 

“Traditionally, vintage sizes were much smaller, and most of the things they carry are likely older than we’re used to” he reasoned, realizing that was likely the reason you were having trouble. 

However, that wasn’t what you wanted to hear. 

You knew that was probably the real reason, but all you thought about as you tried to stretch those garments over your shoulders, was all the things wrong with your body. 

In your mind, it had nothing to do with the fabric. 

So, it followed that the last thing you wanted to deal with was Spencer’s endless facts, even if he was only trying to help. It didn’t make you feel any better, even if he was right. 

It just made you that much more frustrated. 

“I know Spencer, I know that. But if I wasn’t so big, that wouldn’t matter” you sighed, not even meaning to be so snippy with him as the words fell from your lips. You were just so over being here, and all you could think about was going home and crawling into bed. 

Nothing else mattered but that right now. 

Not even how much Spencer clearly cared about the duress you were under. 

“Hey, don’t say that.” Spence tutted, letting his hand fall to your arm lightly, where he gave it a light squeeze. You two didn’t talk about this super often but when it did come up, there was no avoiding it. 

Confidence issues had always hit home with Spencer and he understood them, but not in you. Personally, he didn’t see anything wrong with the way you looked and found you to be the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen but that didn’t make your hurt any less valid. 

There were things about Spencer that he hated, but you had always made it clear that you loved him. You loved everything about him and there was no avoiding it. 

It didn’t matter to you that he had trouble with himself, because you couldn’t have seen a thing out of place in him. However, it was hard to imagine that same courtesy extended to you.

The love you had for him was unconditional and you would never change that, even if you had reason to and that was the same for you as far as Spencer was concerned. 

Though, nothing was going to change what you had been through. You had spent so much time dealing with this in your life and no amount of assurance was going to change that. 

“Come on, cheer up. We’ve got more places we can check” he assured, reaching out to take a hand in your own. It was a good plan, and he had a point. 

However, you weren’t sure about that. 

You weren’t sure if you had it in you to do something like that after what you’d already had to deal with before.

“Can we maybe do it later Spence? I just want to go home” you decided finally, knowing well enough that getting in some good cuddle time and a hot dinner would make all the difference in the world. 

You didn’t have it in you to do this whole thing again this late in the day and Spencer understood that. He didn’t like the idea of you giving up under such sucky circumstances but if you weren’t in the mood, he wasn’t going to force you. 

“Okay, we can do that too” he allowed, taking your hand in his own to head you toward the door. Since you hadn’t found anything, he wasn’t going to just keep dragging you around for no reason. 

That wouldn’t be good for either of you. 

This conversation was far from over but Spencer knew it wasn’t time sensitive to figure it out. You two could have a conversation when you weren’t so tired and overwhelmed. 

Right now, Spencer just wanted to make sure that you were taken care of and didn’t beat yourself up too badly over it. 

[utterlyinevitable]

After seeing ur explanation for that anon i really want to see a fic or a hc of ethan as a dad and becca as mom can u please do it??

omg okay ahhh my babys having babies. this is gonna be long and idk if it’ll make sense bc imma jot down everything i know about domestic e&b.  

[just finished and... this is long and broken down into 6 categories........... enjoy!]

Ethan & Becca as Parents

The Pregnancy 

They didn’t plan on having children, it just kind of happened. Becca and Ethan took a day for the news to settle before they jumped into excited, expecting parents mode.

The most exciting part was renovating the condo to make the most perfect nursery and shopping for decorations and mentally planning all the traditions and things they’d love to give to their little family. 

All of the happiness couldn’t mask the struggles of pregnancy. 

Becca hated being pregnant. She was sick and nauseous constantly, and her back and feet always ached. 

Throughout the whole thing Ethan doted on her; holding her hair back and learning how to tie it up in the way she likes, rubbing her back, running out to get whatever she was craving. 

He even made copious amounts of notes about her eating patterns. Enough to keep two of everything in the condo. 

If she was having a restless night, he would too; even if she was restless for non-human-growing reasons. 

They were in this together.

And even when she was huddled over a garbage pail, dribble running down her chin, she never looked more beautiful to him. 

There was just something about all this that made him feel all weird and fuzzy inside. 

When her symptoms barely settled throughout the second trimester she overhauled her entire birthing plan. There was no way she was making it to 42 weeks. She was absolutely miserable. So she made a c-section appointment for 40 weeks. 

She had an entire argument with Ethan one evening (she really was only yelling while he nodded his head). Her main points were:  “It’s my body and the baby will be fine. I was born 6 weeks early and I turned out fantastic!” and  “Once the baby’s out of me I’m still going to have to pee. Omg what if she rips me open!? How am I supposed to use the bathroom without worrying about my stitches?”  

All he kept reiterating was:  “I love you. I trust you and your instincts.” 

Becca felt better as he held her face in his large hands, his calming azure eyes boring into hers and letting her know everything will be alight. 

But deep down she spent the next few weeks since making the appointment wondering if she should have given vaginal birth a try. She didn’t want Ethan to resent her for chickening out of her body’s natural function. 

The Birth 

Becca made it to her c-section appointment. Happily rubbing her large belly and glowing:  “I can’t wait to not be pregnant anymore! Never do this to me again.” 

All Ethan did was chuckle. 

He was happy she was getting color back and that her symptoms finally settled enough for her to spend the last few weeks enjoying their daughters kicks. But oh my god was Ethan Ramsey terrified of being a father. 

He wouldn’t tell Becca though. She was emotional and worried enough as is. Any and all his concerns were saved for the short conversations he had with his father.  “Don’t overthink it, son. The moment you lay eyes on your daughter you’ll know what to do. It’s instinct. Biology. That was your best subject in school, wasn’t it?” Alan would joke.  

The surgery went off without a hitch. 

All of Becca’s hatred for the phenomenon of pregnancy vanished the second the nurse placed their daughter on her chest. 

Rebecca was in awe. She made that! This little person came out of her! This little pink person that looks like a plucked chicken with a tiny tuft of brown hair was here and she was beautiful. The perfect combination of her and Ethan. 

The embodiment of their love.   

Dakota Dolores Ramsey was completely unplanned. Unplanned but not unwanted.  

The first time Ethan Ramsey held his daughter time froze. The universe needed a minute to process the broad grin and full heart thumping rapidly from this stoic and reserved man. 

The earth was about to spin the wrong way but then Dakota opened her eyes.

Everything was the way divinity had planned it.  

At Home

Although Ethan and Becca lived a 10 minutes drive from Edenbrook, nearly a straight run, Becca forced him to drive as slow as possible. 

Dakota was asleep and she needed to keep it that way. 

Due to her stitches, Becca was forced to take things easy. No matter how many times she argued with Ethan that she was capable of menial tasks around the house. 

Ethan would not let her lift a finger. 

If Dakota needed a change he’d happily do it. if Becca was hungry he’d make her favorite. 

“You had her to yourself for nine months. Let me take the next few days.” Becca went to retort, all she wanted was to hold her baby for the rest of eternity. She’d never tire of looking at her scrunched up potato face and watching as her features changed every moment of every day. “I promise to share.” “You better,” she kissed him as he tucked her into bed for a much needed nap.

The only thing he was forced to share with his partner was feeding duty - Becca was adamant on breast feeding. A bottle would not touch their daughters lips for months to come. 

That in itself brought its own challenges. 

Most nights Ethan laid in bed with Becca curled up at his side in one arm and Dakota resting on his bare chest. 

Parenting was weird, but an exhilarating change. 

Ethan couldn’t diagnose what he could have possibly have done right in his life to be this wholly happy. 

The Second

Once Ethan and Becca had one child they were both itching for a second.

“You know what say: ‘if you have one you have to have two’.” “Is that so?”  “You don’t want Dakota to have a sibling?”  “I was an only child and look how I turned out.”  “Emotionally stunted and certified loner?” she teased. 

Truth be told, Ethan wanted another. He’s been thinking of giving his pride and joy a few siblings for weeks now. He just didn’t know how to tell Becca. 

Becca complained frequently about how happy she was to not be pregnant, and often about how her scar healed funnily. 

All of the signs pointed to her not wanting another. And Ethan was okay with that. He never expected to have one child. He’d cherish every moment of what’s been placed right in his fingertips. 

He’ll let his soon-to-be wife choose their path. She’s dictated everything else thus far. Ethan was elated she chose him to be along for the ride. 

After Dakota’s first birthday, when they made the decision to have another, they tried desperately to conceive.

“I really don’t want to have to deal with diapers for five years,” was Becca’s main reason for keeping the kids close in age.  “We can try surrogacy.” Ethan offered, knowing how much she hated pregnancy. He didn’t want to push her into anything.    “No. I have to do it. I’ll do it for our kids. But you owe me big time.”  

And 14 months later Caroline Marie Ramsey made her grand appearance. 

And Becca got her first push present. 

The Last 

It’s fitting that four years later Ethan and Becca were blessed with another surprise. 

Her pregnancy with James Jonah was the smoothest of them all. 

Of course that meant something had to go wrong. 

At 34 weeks Becca went into premature vaginal labor. 

Within six hours their baby boy arrived. 5lbs 2oz and looking like an alien. 

Ethan almost lost them both after the fact. 

Becca lost too much blood with the placenta and JJ was so tiny.  

But the Lao’s were fighters and they pulled through. Ethan cried at her bedside once the harrowing 24 hours were up. 

Becca stayed at the hospital for a week, Ethan and Alan bringing the girls to visit every single day. 

JJ had to stay a few days longer and Becca refused to leave until she could bring her son home. 

She went through her first experience with postpartum depression. Becca didn’t think anything could be worse than the mental toll her abortion had on her years earlier. But she was wrong.

She was so wrong. 

All their friends chipped in to help take care of the kids while Ethan devoted his time to helping his wife. The couple went to therapy, sometimes together, other times Ethan sat in the waiting room as Becca worked through her emotions. 

Months later, the parents were sitting at home. Ethan held their son and their daughters were curled on their laps: He muttered into his wife’s hair, “I’d like to have one more.”  “Not with me you’re not,” she scoffed. “We’re outnumbered as is.” 

JJ began to cry and the girls stirred. Dakota mumbling, “Tell the baby to shut up, I’m sleeping here.” 

They couldn’t help but laugh and pull apart to put their whole world to bed.  

Old and graying and spending more time at home with his kids, Ethan wanted just one more baby. Four was a strong, even number. He could have a whole daycare full of them - each one the best variations of him and Becca. 

Becca had spent a large portion of her 30s childrearing and she’s done. Done with diapers and formula, especially. She loves her children more than anything but they’re exhausting. She can’t wait for them to be in school full time and she can have some more alone time with her husband. It’s been so long since it’s been just them too.  

“Don’t hate me...”  “I could never hate you,” Ethan said as he brushed a few strands of hair from his wife’s face.  She swallowed and confidently said, “I want you to get a vasectomy.” 

He agreed without further consideration. She made a very compelling argument.  

Parenting 

Ethan is the doting helicopter dad and Becca is doctor drill sergeant. The kids get away with nothing under their mother’s watch. 

Ethan is very soft and adores his children. The grumpy attending could have a whole gaggle of them. He spoils his daughters rotten, picking up the newest doll and toy they’re obsessed with, and making them promise not to tell mommy. 

The women in Ethan’s life get away with everything and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

When the girls were born, Ethan stepped back at work letting the better Dr. Ramsey have her career defining moments.

He took half days to pick the girls up from preschool and would bring them to the park or museums. He’d even try to teach them to cook their favorite recipes on cold, rainy days. He’d tire them out so that he and mom could tuck them in after dinner.

Ethan’s afraid of his son. He’s afraid the tot is going to turn out exactly like him - he’s the spitting image, except that his hair curls like his mother’s. 

Instead of putting JJ in fulltime daycare, Ethan chose part time preschool. The girls were in primary school now and he’s taken a bigger step back from the hospital after the baby was born. 

He devotes all his free time to teaching his son about all he knows and learning all he doesn’t.  

Becca complains about the state of her vagina and stomach all the time. Never in front of the children but often enough Ethan knows the look on her face right before she says the same two lines.  

Her favorite activity is building forts and taking the kids to the beach. 

The holidays have never felt more alive with the full house. Ethan even became a Christmas and Valentines Day lover. 

Becca loved watching him change over the years. Every new first they celebrated with each child, every one of their kids passions, Ethan would adopt them all and make it his mission to be a connoisseur of every facet.

Dakota sat her parents down one day with a serious topic of conversation: “Mommy, Daddy. I’m going to be a fashion designer.” “Will you?”  “Yes. And I need to dress myself.” “As long as it’s weather appropriate, consider it done.”  “And we need to get supplies.” 

The conversation went on for 15 minutes with Ethan and Becca asking questions and Dakota making demands. Once they’ve settled on an agreement on how to make their daughter’s dream happen, Ethan retired to his office. He taught himself the basics of sewing.     

Even with all the struggles of raising three children in a suburb of Boston while balancing very demanding medical careers, Ethan and Becca wouldn’t have it any other way. The life they carved out of all their complications was worth it.  

All of this was inevitable. 

And they wouldn’t take a moment for granted.    

________________________________________

Um... this became bigger than intended... If you made it this far, thank you ♥

Masterlist

Perma:

@rookiemarsswiftie @lucy-268 @binny1985 @thegreentwin @queencarb @danijimenezv @starrystarrytrouble e @terrm9 @interobanginyourmom @adrex04 @maurine07 @mercury84choices @schnitzelbutterfingers @theeccentricbibliophile @wingedhairstylemusicweasel @kaavyaethanramsey @mvalentine @rookie-ramsey @drariellevalentine @lifeaskim @otherworldlypresents @therookie @aylaramseycarrera @angela8754 @fireycookie @stateofgracious

Ethan:

@udishaman @honeyandsunfl0wers @hutchereverlark23 @ohchoices @dulceghernandez @blossomanarchy @claredal424 @caseyvalentineramsey @rookieoh @openheartthot @senseofduties @lilyvalentine @tsrookie @kalogh @aworldoffandoms @takemyopenheart t @casey-v @ramseyandrys @peaceinmidstofchaos

[summonerscenarios]

[1] OKAY anon talking about Mc running off before they find out they're innocent. Okay Mc just wanted to cool down so they skip class and leave campus for the day for self care. BUT THEN they get caught up in app conflict bs like they do when game events happen bc its mc. Maybe helping out the outlaws or somethin- Mc sends the summoner group chat the fyi, that they'll be back. But three days later and the teachers are fucking panicking bc of the situation and they don't know shit AND now the-

OKAY ONCE AGAIN I’M GOING A LIL OFF ON THIS BECAUSE THIS IDEA IS JUST 👌👌👌👌👌 so as you can probably tell in some parts I definitely rambled lmao. I do hope I do it justice~!

And for anyone wondering the original request can be found here!

---------------------

Things had gotten too much. You were so fed up with all the stares, all the sympathetic glances burning holes into the back of your head and all of the whispered words of gossip and speculation like you were some hot topic or reckless wild child who couldn’t be trusted. Everyone was acting like you couldn’t see or hear them, which somehow just made it feel even worse; it was driving you up the wall, even with all of your friends standing by your side the moment you were accused it was hard to ignore everything that came with it. You were pissed, hurt, but the betrayal stung the worst out of everything that had happened so far - you’d put your complete trust in your teachers, looking up to them oh so confident that they’d believe and protect you should the need ever arise, because you genuinely believed that they saw the best in you, even in spite of your faults and encounter track record. You guess that just wasn’t the case though, as that encounter in the staff room still makes you feel sick to your stomach, thinking about the way those same teachers you trusted looked at you with pity and still deemed you guilty of something you so viciously denied. 

They still look at you with pity - Mr. Triton and Mr. Jinn don’t even try to hide it, maybe not even realizing that you’re looking at their expressions when they’d tried to start up a conversation with you. It frustrates you, because it feels like they have no right to pity you when they were the ones there in that meeting and they didn’t try to vouch for you. They didn’t even listen when you told them you were innocent! Surely they have enough faith in you to believe in you, right?!...right? Whatever the case the whole situation has you dreading coming into school everyday, and as the days pass you’re more and more convinced that things would be better if you could just get out of going at all - there’s plenty of other things you could be doing where you wouldn’t have eyes watching your every move, nor the weight that comes with them.

You don’t know if it’s luck or sheer irony that the teacher responsible for picking you up from class is late one day, but it’s the final nail in the coffin before you decide ‘fuck it, I’m out of here’ and skip class. For the past few days you’d felt pinned, suffocated with eyes constantly on you from the moment you step onto school grounds to the moment you’re out of sight, which makes it oddly freeing to be able to run around without those disapproving gazes - but you don’t want to waste time and risk getting caught, not when you’re so close to skipping and being free for at least a single day. Consequences be damned, you don’t care anymore. Even though everything is still weighing heavy on your mind stepping out of the grounds feels...liberating, and you only dare a glance back once you’re out of the school gates, catching sight of students still in their classroom completely oblivious that you’ve disappeared from their ranks. Telling the teachers where you were going was the last thing on your mind, but you at least have the foresight to send a message to the Summoner’s group chat before you turn off your phone and bolt from the premises, letting them know that you were going out for a day to clear your head. 

It was only supposed to be that one day, you swear, but things have never really had a penchant for going your way. If you had stayed just a few hours longer you’d have learned about the person clearing your name; you’d have seen the teachers’ mad dash through the school when they’d realized you weren’t in any of your classes; you’d have watched the outroar as the Summoner’s learned of the truth in your stead. But you’d missed it all, and spent the day wandering anywhere and everywhere instead - wherever you could go where you wouldn’t risk running into any faculty you went, stewing in thoughts and trying to forget just about everything that had happened for as long as you could before you were inevitably brought back to the school. 

Only that didn’t happen; you were able to crash at a friend’s house on the first night, called in a favor with a nearby guild for a place to sleep on the second night, and the hours in between were spent either wandering or getting dragged into fights - how ironic that even now you couldn’t avoid getting involved in other people’s problems even if you tried - it was seriously getting old. In the meantime, the Summoners are the only ones who get word about what’s happening, but even then you keep it vague so that you don’t worry them, not to mention you don’t want them to needlessly lie if they get questioned by the teachers concerning your whereabouts. Which is exactly what happens; the teachers are all worrying themselves sick by the time the third day rolls around without hide or hair of you, and it’s clear that there’s regrets voer what had transpired over the whole week. Jinn’s rolling your last encounter over and over in his head, wondering if there was something that he could have said that would have made you decide to stay put - maybe letting you know you had someone on your side - but the what-ifs won’t change the fact that you left. Triton’s still cursing how long it took for the news of your innocence to come to life, the thought of how you must have felt being looked at with such suspicion making guilt crawl up his spine and settle in his mind. And Mononobe doesn’t stop looking for you for a second - even if you scream at him or scold him or ignore him completely he needs to see that you’re okay and doesn’t want your last conversation with him being left on such bad terms. One thing is for certain though; they need to find you, and soon.

Things finally come to a head on the third day. Usually during after school hours you’d try to make yourself scarce in the area, but this time you weren’t so lucky. All too quickly you’re dragged into a spat with someone itching to boost their ego with an app battle, and though it was clear they’re all bark and no bite it’s tedious and you want it over with quickly. You just wish it was that simple, as the moment you ready your sacred artifact, watching your opponents prep to set up a battle zone, two figures block your view, standing almost protectively in front of you as they activate their respective sacred artifacts. You don’t even have to see them to recognize them - Mr. Triton and Mr. Jinn are both loud as they declare their presence, stepping into the fight in your stead. Before this week you would have laughed seeing the two of them standing side by side talking big about protecting you; but now? You feel your heart sink into your stomach - this could not have been the worse time to see them.

Mercifully, the battle staves off the inevitable conversation for a little while longer, as the three of you have to focus back on the fight at hand; your teachers are skilled, or at least driven by something to end the battle, and you aren’t willing to play around just to avoid what comes next, so it isn’t long before the person who challenged you and his friends to all back off, releasing the battle zone as they flee back into the crowds to nurse their mental wounds. You almost want to disappear into those crowds with them before you can get caught again, however the moment you turn you’re immediately accosted by Jinn and Triton, the two teachers fighting over each other to get the most concerned word in - where have you been? Why did you run away? Are you hurt?! Their concern is sincere, you can tell as much from their faces since hiding their emotions isn’t exactly their strong suit. And right over their shoulders you can see Mr. Mononobe too as he approaches to join the three of you, having not been involved in the battle zone for obvious reasons; but the sight of all three of them in the same place reminds you so much of that day you’d been accused and the emotions burn in your throat like poison.

There’s venom laced in your tone as you ask them why they stepped in, effectively silencing the two teachers as they share a brief glance and answer simultaneously. Hearing them talk about teachers protecting their students you have to bite your tongue because surely they know how hypocritical that sounds, right? But they keep talking, rambling on about making sure you’re safe and protecting you when you need it and it’s like a trigger, sending everything frothing to the surface. You laugh, bitter and sarcastic before asking if they’re serious - they've gotta be kidding - but you don’t even give them a chance to respond before your words claw their way out into the open and you just about lose it.

You don’t care about mincing your words as you practically bare your soul, everything that’s been welling up finally boiling over. You yell and scream and shout until your voice is hoarse because you’re so pissed that they have the audacity to talk about protecting you when they couldn’t even protect you from those accusations, from all those people thinking you destroyed something just because you could. They have no fucking right to even consider themselves your protectors when they looked at you with those same eyes full of pity, now turned to guilt in light of the truth that had come far too late, and you’re gonna make damn well that they know that you aren’t someone to be pitied - you’re vindicated, seething, and feeling so betrayed by the few adults that you were so sure that you could trust. But that trust was shattered - and that’s exactly why you left, because why would you want to be surrounded by people who couldn’t trust you?!

The emotion behind your voice is raw, and Jinn, Triton and even Mononobe seem to be at a loss for words - no words of reassurance, no advice, no words of wisdom - and that just twisted the knife in deeper when you’re met with no resistance whatsoever. You honestly don’t know what you expected - some kind of fight or rebuttal would justify these feelings that you have - but when you receive nothing of the sort in response you lose the wind in your sails and you choke on your shouts. Your words fail you, turning into sputtering and sharp gasps when you finally buckle and sink to your knees, wiping uselessly at your face as your eyes burn with the sting of tears - a feeling you’ve gotten so familiar with this past week it makes you loathe the feeling. If you could you’d still be yelling, but you just can’t bring yourself to do it - you’re tired, whittled down to your bare bones and you don’t even have the energy to be angry or care that you’re having what you’re pretty sure is a breakdown that wasn’t in the safety of your dorm room. You want to just curl up and disappear - just for a few days, that would be okay, right? Just until you can feel something in your chest that didn’t hurt like hell. The Summoners would understand, you think, they always did - they’d trusted you at least, when it felt like most didn’t. Why could they have been the ones to swoop in and help you? It’s a silly thought, but you feel like you at least wouldn’t be bawling like you are now if it had been them instead of the teachers; you can just imagine how they must be watching you cry in front of them.

Damn, this whole thing really was just a mess....

A hand touches your arm and another touches your back - you’d kick away if you could, but it’s like the touch saps you of all of your energy. Those hands have no right to be so warm, no right to feel so comforting, and yet they are and you want to cry all over again. You have no idea which teacher is the one who helps you to your feet as all three surround you with growing concern once your sobs filter off into broken sniffles, gaze torn between screwing shut to avoid looking at any of their faces and staring right at them so they can see all the emotions in your eyes that your words have failed to convey. When they talk about bringing you somewhere safe, back to the dorms or to the school to discuss everything that had happened, you’re in the right mind to run away all over again, but you can’t bring yourself to do it. Instead, you allow those hands on your back and shoulder and arm to guide your steps, ignoring the concern and grave expressions that the teachers share as the reality of what’s just transpired sets in. You don’t know what’s coming next, but you honestly don’t think you care anymore - all you can think about is how tired you are of everything, and this was apparently the last straw that you could handle.

[alltheworldsinmyhead]

(WHILE COLLECTING THE STARS) I CONNECTED THE                                                                                                                  DOTS

or, how Nesta accepted the bond and decided to give living a try // ao3

Adoption /Self-Discovery/Domestic/Witch!Nesta/Mating Bond/Nessian/found family bc why the fck not/Healing

Heal the scars from off my back

I don't need them anymore

You can throw them out or keep them in your mason jars

I've come home

The first thing she notices is how small the girl is.

Her feet are dangling far from the ground and, even though she’s perched on a stroll and Cassian is kneeling on the ground, he’s still towering over her frame. The top of the child’s head barely sticks above the table. Her tucked-in wings make her look even tinier; tiny and miserable, wrapped up with a blanket like an abandoned kitten.

Nesta’s still high on all the magic. There is dark paint smeared all over her skin and her veins are buzzing with the sheer power that she and her coven has just leeched off the very bones of Illyria. She’s only starting to regain some composer and maybe that is why, for a good few minutes, she stays on the corridor and watches as Cassian patiently asks the girl if she wants something to eat or to drink, if she’s warm enough, if maybe she wants to take a nap, hearing nothing in return except for the stubborn, shell-shocked silence.

It’s only when the child pulls her knees up and hides her face in the material of the blanket when Nesta actually makes her presence known.

‘’Hello?’’ she calls quietly from her place on a threshold, not wanting to spook the girl further.

To Cassian’s credit, he does not whip his head towards her – but, after all, he probably knew she’s been here all along.

He always knows she’s near, just like she does.

‘’Hello, Nesta.’’ He says and there is something so heavy, so terribly dark ringing in his voice that she cannot help but shiver. ‘’Sorry, darling, are you fine sitting alone for a while here? I’ll be right back.’’

He raises his hand as if to pat the girl’s knee, but decides not to half-motion; it falls awkwardly to his side when he slowly raises to his full height.

The girl just buries deeper into the blanket.

Something about her – the clear despair radiating from every pore of her body – pulls  Nesta towards her like a siren song. She cannot tear her eyes off her, even when Cassian ushers her to the corridor, his hand burning her lower back.

‘’Sorry for no heads-up.’’ He whispers, face half-obscured by the shadows.

It’s almost dusk; the lovely pink light of the dying sun makes everything less real somehow. Or maybe it’s still the magic, the leftovers of it from the sabbath, she’s not sure.

She knows why he’s apologizing. Strangers still threw her off, especially here, in this – space they’ve created. The space where she walks barefoot and with her hair unbound, only for him to see. But how he knows that she doesn’t feel comfortable with unexpected visitors, she has no idea. Sometimes, she wonders how the hell Cassian even knows half of the things he knows about her, because she doesn’t tell him even a quarter of them.

Unexpected visitors that make her uneasy definitely don’t include little lost girls, though. Especially since there’s an unpleasant pounding in Nesta’s head when her mind starts to mull over why the girl would be here in the first place.

‘’Oh, stop being an idiot. Why did you bring her here?  Is she- is her mother-‘’

‘’Gone? Yeah.’’

Nesta closes her eyes so tightly that the whole night sky blooms on the underside of her eyelids.

That’s Illyria. – he told her the first time when he came home reeking of blood, his knuckles scraped to the raw meat. – It happens.

And there was not an ounce of acceptance in his voice, only this defeated helplessness. The same helplessness she’s hearing – she’s feeling – now.

‘’She doesn’t have anyone else left? No family?’’

‘’No one. Her father was killed in the war, as far as I know.’’

It happens. Females disappear. Females evaporate. Females appear with their wings clipped, with blood running down their thighs. Females find themselves in the wrong place, the wrong time… especially young, pretty widows, trying to make a living in any way they can, selling whatever they have, including themselves.

Nesta does not have to ask for more details, does not have to dig deeper. Cassian fixes her stare on the chandelier above her head and breaths deeply and, when she looks down, she can see dark bruises blooming on his knuckles, turning them all shades of purple.

Her hands are still cool from the autumn air. He shivers when her thumbs brush across his tender flesh.

‘’Those who did it to her – they won’t do it again to anyone else, will they?’’

‘’No,’’ Cassian growls, his fingers curling around hers. ‘’No, they won’t.’’

She lets her lips curl into a smile, the one that makes Devlon piss his pants whenever he throws a hissy about her coven, or rather about her dragging the clipped females to the woods at night to howl to the moon, as he calls it.

‘’Good.’’ She breathes out.

Her eyes slide on the wooden panels on the wooden panels, back to the kitchen; through the ajar door, all she can see are the black curls, the small talons on top of the girl’s wings peeking from the folds of the blanket.

She’s just so small. She cannot be possibly older than five.

‘’What’s her name?”

“Nicassia.’’ Cassian answers without meeting Nesta’s eyes and something akin to a laugh bubbles in her chest. Nicassia. What a pretty name, swishing like a mountain stream on the rocks, like the wind in the valley.

Ni-cass-ia.

It seems the irony has not escaped Cassian too, because he smirks slightly at her stunned silence.

‘’What are the chances, huh?’’

‘’Yeah.’’ She sounds a bit breathless. Nicassia. ‘’What  - where are you planning to take her?’’

She rather feels than hears his hesitance when he says:

‘’Well. There’s an orphanage in Velaris-‘’

Something tightens like a rock inside her core. Of course.

She bites on her tongue. Stop being ridiculous, Velaris is not the source of all evil in the world. She has no doubt that they will take care of her well there – keep her well-fed and clothed, educate her. Give her the care and attention she needs. Maybe she’ll be treated as something … something else, different, but not worse, Feyre would never allow that. Still-

There’s this nagging thought, coming back to her over and over again as she raises her eyes to the small bundle of misfortune on the stroll in the kitchen Nesta has started to think of as hers – what about the things they cannot give her in Velaris?

Nesta’s been living in the Illyria for three years now; she keeps count of every day while pretending she’s absolutely not doing that. And during this time, she has just begun to grasp the magnitude of her ignorance of how these people live and how they think and feel – but she also knows now just enough to realize that there will be no coming back for Nicassia if she’s sent to the Night Court so young.

No one will teach her the songs to keep the rhythm while sewing – no one will teach her how to sew in the first place, how to weave the promises and good fortunes into the fabric. No one will teach her the strange language, full of whistles and hard vowels, impossible to really grasp for somebody who did not grow up hearing it every day. No one will teach her how to put pebbles on the windowsills for protection or to hang bundles of herbs above the fireplace for prosperity and health. No one will make a rowan necklace for her upon her flowering, every hope, and dream that her mother has for her captured on the rope along with the fruits.

No one will teach her the sacred, secret language of Illyrian females, the rites and rituals of their womanhood. If Nicassia grows up in Velaris, she will be forever an outcast in her own home. Not High Fae and not quite Illyrian either.

She will once sit around the fire with other females just like Nesta does with her coven and she too won’t be a part of the story.

And Nesta cannot bear this thought, cannot help but fixate on it.

‘’Nesta.’’

Cassian’s hand is warm and steady on arm, gentle, when he squeezes it.

He’s always gentle with her now, hesitant almost. She’s trying not to miss the times when he was challenging her with every move, every word, driving her insane. It’s better this way, when everything between them is so delicate, fragile like an eggshell. It’s better like that, she tries to convince herself every day, every night laying alone in her bed, her very skin burning from desire.

Sometimes he sleeps beside her to keep her nightmares at bay, but honestly, she almost prefers the nightmares to this unbearable, painful distance between them.  

‘’You cannot – you can’t keep her, Sweetheart.’’

She knows what he means by that – she knows he means all the sleepless nights and the emptiness still present in her eyes more often than not. Her still too-skinny hands, her still-not-quite mastered powers. How she would not touch booze for all days of the year except for the anniversary of her father’s death when she gets so absolutely pissed that she sleeps through the next week. The fact that they share fears and dreams and silence, trade quiet feelings, small kisses, absent-minded caresses every day, but they have still not traded the actual words, did not dare to voice anything they feel for each other.

She knows he only wants to protect her.

But maybe a time for coddling has passed. Not when there is a child sitting in their kitchen, small and alone in this world and this time, she has power – power, and strength, and will – to help her.

‘’Maybe I can’t’’. she says softly, slowly. Nicassia’s dark curls spill on her shoulders. Nesta’s hands itch to braid it the way it’s supposed to be braided, just like Emerie explained to her one time-  first parted in two, then divided into four strands and woven together (Health. Protection. Love. Devotion.). Nesta’s no Illyrian, but she can learn. She can ask her coven to teach her, to teach her how to sing lullabies in Illyrian, which bedtimes stories she should tell-

Ni-cass-ia.

Nesta thinks about a boy of five, dumped onto the cold mud, taught over and over again in the most horrible way that he has to kill, beg or steal for every little crumb of love in his life, that it will never be given freely to him, that he will never be worth it.

Nesta thinks of a girl of eight, burning with anger too vast to be contained, only learning decades later how to be gentle, how to allow others to be gentle to her.  She thinks of Feyre and Elain, of loving too much and not enough simultaneously, of not knowing how to feel anything without this magnitude of feeling devouring her whole.

Nesta turns around to face Cassian, her hands gripping his too-strongly. There’s fire – fire- burning inside her brighter than any magic ever did, hotter than any rage ever did.

She needs us. – she thinks and then: I need this. I want this.

I want this for us.  

She doesn’t remember ever wanting anything more. She doesn’t remember the last time she has felt so much.

How can they continue to pretend they’re walking on eggshells when she feels every rise and fall of his chest as if it was her own? When she could’ve as well grabbed on this bond between them or hang herself on it, that’s how strong it is. Forged from some ancient metal. Hardened in flames.

Cassian kneeling on the floor in front of this girl. Nesta coming home.

‘’But maybe we can.’’

His eyes burn golden, staring down at her. She can almost hear his heart stumbling in his chest. She’s trembling, waiting for him to tell her, no, to tell her that’s insane and wrong, to try to reason with her.

But maybe her own heart is painted on her face or maybe the implication of her words are too vast, too great to grasp, or maybe it’s that fact that all her walls go down for a moment when she’s too desperate to keep them up and he sees her for what she truly is for a moment, or maybe it’s all of those things altogether or something else entirely – but Cassian doesn’t say no.

He looks to the kitchen again, his jaw clenching and eyes turning soft when one of Nicassia’s bare feet emerges from the blanket to dangle above the floor.

‘’Are you sure?’’

One step, two steps before she’s so close she could’ve counted the freckles of hazel in his eyes.

Be brave.

‘’I want this with you. I want her. Do you – do you want it too?’’

And she means more than Nicassia, or rather – she means all Nicassia can possibly mean, the whole ocean of dreams she has never dared to venture into, so deep they could both drown in it.

In her grand romance novels, he would’ve pulled her into his arms, give her a sweeping kiss. But in these books, there seems to always be a perfect moment for everything, the exact seconds when stars align and the realization comes like a lightning strike. Nesta does not believe in this type of love any more- doesn’t believe in the perfect moments. It was always Feyre’s brand of romance. Everything in Nesta’s and Cassian’s story has always been complicated and ill-timed. She doesn’t expect to be swept off her feet or wooed anymore.

She just wants to come home. Finally, after all those lonely years.  

Cassian doesn’t give her a grand kiss. Instead, he raises their linked hands to his lips and whispers against her skin – quietly, like a secret, like an oath:

‘’I do. Fine then, love.’’

And for a second she can almost see that small boy entering Rhysand’s mother’s cottage in the war camp, craving family and belonging above all reason once again.

Her body turns soft, jelly; her arm raises up, palm resting in the crook of his neck, thumb brushing the line of his jaw. She’s on her tiptoes before she realizes she has even made a move.

For the first time since they met, they meet each other halfway; his forehead resting on hers, his hand pressing hers to his heart.

‘’Fine then, love.’’ She echoes and, all at once, warmth erupts under her skin like a raging forest fire when the bond tugs on her insides and snaps in place, sweet and familiar, the gravity keeping her feet on the ground.

[voidcat]

– the sea and to see

characters: oikawa tooru/gn!reader

wc & genre: 1.6k - comfort :-)

a/n: another finals week where i write an oiks comfort<3 society if i didnt begin oikawa comfort fics everytime i felt down bc i have so many wips.. 

i dont rmr where i wanted this to go but i can’t find any other way to finish so ye,, also!! mentions of drinking, similar vibes to stardust on reader’s state of mind

One step, another and another.

Without looking around, you know where you are, wishing you didn’t. (but there’s nothing to be done about that now.)

Looking left and right, checking in case any familiar face is around, you sink to the ground, regret already filling your ears. A voice whispers and it’s right. This is a bad idea, one of your most stupid ones but then again, you’ve been making a bit too many of these lately.

It’s late but not too late. You weight the option to knock the door and decide against it. You need to get your thoughts straight and make up a plan, and hopefully convince yourself to get up and leave. But it never comes as your head between your hands, you doze off far far away and forget you’re ever there, lost somewhere in space.

You snap back with a shake, or a nudge on your shoulder. It feels different, a shadow over your vision, weather a bit colder now.

The shadow moves and you realize. 

Note to self to never zone out again to avoid further falling asleep out in the open public. And as this passes by your eyes, he shuffles on his feet, possibly waiting for an explanation or at least a little bit of your attention on you. So you look up and he scrunches his nose in reply, the same stern look, cold eyes and disapproving face you see all too often.

A minute passes. Or maybe it’s a second or five, you’re not sure. You haven’t been good with time, not before and certainly not now. Letting out a breath, hands hanging from both sides you slowly begin to get up.

Once your mouth open, your words sound quieter than you’d like, and slower too. You must’ve slept for a while.

“Look, if you’re wondering why I’m sitting by your door, at god knows what o’clock, never mind it, just forge-“

“All I care about is you moving your ass right now.” He says (rudely interrupts your sentence) and you want to roll your eyes at him, so you do.

He only looks more annoyed now.

“You’re blocking the door.”

Oh, right…

The keys clink to one another, dance in the air for a while and do not struggle in the hole, get in and turn without a trouble, get out without a break. Even his door opens as smoothly as him.

This, only makes it worse.

“Yes, ‘oh’, so if you have nothing else to say, I’d like to rest.” Oikawa says as he steps in, and you cannot help but worry, again, even though it’s stupid and there’s no logical reason for you to get upset over his rudeness, because really… Isn’t this how the two of you go back and forth almost daily? Isn’t it given? The norm?

Except for some nights, comes that whisper again, and you want to argue back: ‘Weren’t you the one who told me this was a bad idea from the start?’

The jingling noise of the keys snap you out of your head again and you find Oikawa still standing at the edge of the door, waiting. For you to say something, you realize and you shake your head. Because this was a stupid idea from the very start.

But your brain disagrees; as Oikawa can tell from a single look at you that you’ve been doing it again, arguing with yourself and as you make a turn to leave, you feel your muscles move and speak: Can I come in?

But his body acts before you do and already makes way, not a comfortable enough space, for you.

This is, albeit, not the first time you’ve seen Oikawa in a different light but the moments are few and rare, it doesn’t take more than one hand to count them all.

The first time is in an awfully shitty, dim and almost orange-ish light. Maybe it’s yellow, you don’t recall well but the plaster on the walls make it seem like those pumpkins. It’s a mundane night, not one to stand out, the nearest liquor shop further away than the nearest bar and god, you really need that drink and it’s late at night.

And the first thing you have see upon stepping in, has to be a badly disguised Oikawa. Body language enough can tell he’s trying his very good to blend in, sitting in the far back but as always, he somehow radiates. The looks of many on his crunched shadowed figure, looking so strange to the man he often is in the day time.

And you make no noise as you enter. No bell on the door, no bartender to greet you as you get inside, everyone too busy dwelling in their self to even glance your way yet as if in script, like you’ve practiced this many times before, he looks up, his face unclear of emotion.

You sit by the bar and opt to ignore him.

The second time, doesn’t quite go like this. Not the third, the fourth and the nth…

Next thing you know, Oikawa Tooru provides to be an amazing drinking buddy.

He doesn’t participate in the drinking bit that often but he’s respectful of your resigned silence and you of his. There lays mutual respect for whatever it is you’re both in.

Those nights don’t start off bad so often but you never know, not really. But the endings start to get… calmer, neutral, you can feel yourself numbing to the feeling but your burden lightened.

It’s those nights that you forget how Oikawa is like in the day time, how the two of you are like. You decide, you like this Oikawa more, he feels different, his silence comes different. Even the way he still has everyone in the room’s atention on him, many at bay to be at his feet on a single command, mesmerized by his sole presence and still it’s not like how it is when the sun is up. The self stuck up behavior you’re so used to seeing is gone, no cocky smiles, no pride in his eyes, the glint is his eyes now empty.

It feels alien.

Yet you feel closer to this version of him, even if it doesn’t exist often.

Hearing the keys jiggling against one another, you’re back again. No doubt you dozed off, not even for just a minute this time.

More like time paused and a film going through your eyes as if you’re watching a show, seeing a flashback scene to clear things out.

Oh how you wish that’s how it was; easy.

But reality is cruel and things are barely clear. So you have to blindly swim in the dirty water or like a fish writhe in a poodle, desperate for some water.

Standing at the entrance, you wait.

He comes back soon after, clothes changed, a glass of water in his hand, head slightly titled and walks to the couch.

So you follow.

It doesn’t feel as foreign to be alone with him under proper lights, on a nice couch that smells nice. But considering how they are both places strangers to you, it’s no surprise.

Water left untouched, Oikawa’s gaze is on you but neither makes a move. Not a single car passes by, no sound can be heard from outside, it’s too quiet, compared to the places you’ve been at the same as him. It feels eerie.

Making your own noise sounds better in your head, so you focus on your breathing, on his, the tapping of your fingers against your leg, the shuffling of his shirt at his every move…

“Listen…” you take a breath. “I didn’t mean to, you know, barge in.” Breathe out. “I don’t… don’t even know how I got here frankly and-“

“You don’t have to apologize.” Jerk, you think, who said anything about an apology?

“I had to come here wth you once, I guess you weren’t as black out as I assumed that night.”

What you meant to say long forgotten, you find yourself on alert. “How come?”

“I drove you to your place?” It sounds more like a question, to check if you remember.

“Why would you do that?” your words, your voice sound foreign to you, a tone you haven’t heard in too long.

He just shrugs in a “why wouldn’t I?” way.

Your fingers intervened, eyes somewhere on the edge of the glass, you go back to the silence moments ago. It doesn’t feel as quiet now, as sound filled the air once, as your thoughts start to get loud in unspeakable manner, words in a language that never existed.

He seems as lost, not as deep in as you maybe, but still lost, just better at concealing with a smile.

“So what brings you here?”

You hear but do not grasp, it sounds too far away. Ears and throat filled, lungs numb and limbs cold, every sound is behind a veil, except for the beating of your hear echoing in your ears, in a last attempt, the pressure driving you mad.

“Hey.” He reaches again, this time placing a hand on your shoulder, barely touching but enough to pull you out. Just like feeling the sun on your skin for the first time in a long while, eyes sting and your skin itches, the wind feels too cold and a shiver goes down. But your body relaxes, lungs still intact, the pressure disappearing with each beat.

“Are you okay?”

Head shaking and arms around you, you don’t register. It always felt like this, it always feels like this, drowning and gasping for air, desperate to hold on to something but everything slips away and in a final attempt, limbs grow tired, your body exhausted.

“I didn’t want to be alone tonight.” You don’t hear yourself say.

The weight on the couch shifts. “Do you want some water?” you barely hear him say.

There’s no taste of salt to dry your insides, feeling refreshed for the first time in a while, you can open your eyes without a much trouble.

tags: @celosiiaa​ @ywanfen​

[dansedan]

mooooore buddy cop bullshit. cw for self-hatey things and death related things (no real dying?) and general badbrain bc Conolly is narrating woop woop.

Conolly wasn’t usually allowed in the morgue, or the whiterooms. Or anywhere near corpses not mangled out to shit in the great outdoors or the dark of some crappy apartment. For all the fun and games they had with him, with his barely-there meat-sack of a presence in the station, nobody wanted to deal with his reaction in the face of a room full of drugs and blades and dead bodies all wrapped together in radio static brightness.

But Dr. Halia didn’t know that, and Ernst wasn’t in that day, or maybe he was too hungover- he had been jumpy when he’d driven them up from the field, weird when handling the forensic officer at the scene too. Smelled too good to be overexerted or depressive, not good enough to be high and covering up paranoically with oils and colognes like he rarely did, when he hit his own hard limit (Ernst was always so squirrelly about it, honestly, a little weed before work is nothing for a cop). And regardless of cause, Halia had called for him- hailed him in, called him “Major Conolly” in front of anyone- although they probably weren’t listening too hard- and let him lean up in a corner while he showed him every point of interest on the body in real time, all four dimensions of it. The man on the slab was white, generic, long-dead. His only wound was a dried up, gouging thing on his sternum, already quite rotten. In some ways it was better than the camera- the pictures his case files came with tended to be hard to get behind, in a moral sense. Two people suffering for the work of one. In another way, well, pictures don’t smell or touch cold on the cheek of your hand when you draw gestures over them. pictures avoid points outside those of interest, sparing one from the worst of the natural, undisturbed process of decomposition, from the sympathetic nature of people towards pain, even of half-people like him.

Somehow though, the doctor was entirely unaffected. The sliver of skin- smooth, unmarred, right under his wrist- visible between the light latex glove and pure-white labcoat a warm, steady brown, the light expression on his dark, young face not drawn or over-steeled. It’s just a job to him, a job he’s clearly good at. This is what an actual, competent person looked like, this was a whole human man, shoved into the same dead-end bullshit occupation he had let himself get dragged in on all those years back, all inertia and insignificance.

A normal man- a real man- would pity the kid. Conolly the fuckup was getting off on it.

It wasn’t even him, is the thing- the kid, the doctor, sat to some extent at that brave intersection of manly-androgynous that he thought had been forgotten in the 70s visually, perfectly handsome in his own right- but god, obviously it wasn’t really Halia he was attracted to, his looks or anything. It was the gloves- the competency there, that brutal, blood-soaked, pure efficiency. That unflappable attitude and sure, sharp gaze that firmly raked over the bodies, not blanching or blinking. He thought idly if he died he’d be embarrassed to be seen so thoroughly, and suddenly his mind betrayed him and delivered some soft, sticky equivalent of that sombre image, a scene of him laid on the slab and Halia before him, concentrated, cold as ever carving into him. The decomposition crawling in with a shiver up his spine as he imagined it, god, nothing too much unlike what he already looked like, ready for the grave. But to be taken apart by those capable hands, so close but so far, behind gloves, keeping the doctor clean, pure, away from his sick, but still so respectful, so reverent. The kid was neat and efficient and more than anything else it struck Conolly as kind.

Maybe too kind- god, he was getting sober, never a good idea going sober- maybe, a little wheedling thought inside him said, that’d be too kind for him. He was nothing to revere, not even as an object of nature, as a dead body lying still. That was one too many kindnesses for him, the voice inside him said. He knew he hardly meant it, knew it was some kind of fucked up excuse to let his mind go wild and wondering.

“are you alright, Major?”

“yeah doc. Just been a while since my last one in here in person, you know...”

He wished he was worse at lying. Wished Halia could see into him and be disgusted, good and proper, like he was meant for. Yeah, the trust of it, the being caught in the balance, that itched. Something big and dirty and disgusting in his gut wanted it over with, bloody and bile-fueled and stupid and violent, gloved hands shoved down his throat and a look like a jackknife, patience fading on that meticulous enunciation and wearing into that hint of slurring at the corners. Those lips could carry an insult well enough, well like they were carrying the autopsy he was half-engaged in, tuning out on automatic, too sober for death, too disconnected. God, he wouldn’t care, would he? He had no reason to care. He’d been kind, he’d been following along, he’d been talking- called him Major, fucking Major, called him Major like it wasn’t a joke, couldn’t Halia take a fucking joke? - and Conolly thought for a moment maybe he’d finally be shunted from the force and maybe they got this guy from a hospice or something which would be terribly disappointing in terms of the ability to properly die like a workhorse, aware and unaware and ready, but before he could mope around too much the crack of skin peeled back past rigor mortis echoed around the room and Halia gave another mild, quiet apology and he remembered the man was damn good at this job, probably overqualified, and he was just delusional.

“those are all the points of interest, as far as I could ascertain them. Tests should come in within the week, too.”

“is that the fun part?”

He turns to him at that, and he’s a real person. Dread flows through him, shame, a different, cold shame. He’s a real human person, god you’re alive, god, you’re sober. You shouldn’t be sober.

He smiles, broad, closed, smile lines rippling in already.

“no, the chemists at the local med-lab get all the fun on that one,” he hesitates a second, looks away into the snowcapped horizon on the window. “field stuff’s more what I worked on.”

“real guerilla shit, huh?”

He flinches a second, almost imperceptibly. He’s not impressed, smile gone when he turns back to Conolly, humming. There’s a beat too long of silence, of him moving towards the sink and setting out all of his bloody tools towards it, before the door opens with a half-slam against the whitebrick wall.

“what the fuck are you doing in this unit, J?”

(it wasn’t until hours later, after a round of frantic pointing, questioning from Ernst, that Conolly realized he hadn’t taken anything- knives, vials, needles- hadn’t moved the entire time, just stayed staring at Halia.)

(Ernst doesn’t back off him until Conolly slips his hand into the man’s cruiser jacket and pulls out his flask. Then he goes quiet, he watches him drink from an arm’s length, watches him cough around the alcohol, unused to it, watches him and shakes his head and wipes the whisky off his face.)

(The only thing Ernst tells him afterward is “Not your fucking poison, Conolly. Don’t wreck your voice, it’s half the gimmick.”)

[cr-darksienna]

hello hello! i’m here to bring you an idol group’s absolutely trash of a leader, rapper and vocal, jeong jaehyuk. he’s a jack of all trades, master of none with a bit of an anger streak and anger issues that he’s been learning over the years to handle. darkly charismatic and with a open history due to a big scandal that he had few months into riot’s debut, hyuk is a performer with a 150% effort and attitude, living like he can burn out in a single day and not live to see the next sunrise tomorrow. incorrigible, possessive and with a slightly petty streak, he’s not one to pull his punches (esp with his members) with anyone that offends him, though he’s been taming himself under bc’s watchful eye until more recently. call him a cesspool of moral filth or a festering pool of toxicity, he’s as deeply insecured behind his antagonistic nature, and has worked ten times as hard for 13 years in his company to get himself to where he kinda is in right now, neither here nor there, halted in his steps by a company that feels he’s not up to it due to his loose handle on emotions and a desperate attempt to quell down on the various scandals that knight has had.

his company has played into the image of the bad boy of the group for him, especially after his first (and only) scandal, and he plans to make the most of it, especially with the reins now loosened on his end. he’s spent quite the time being a tamed tiger, and isn’t going to hesitate upon wreaking havoc once he’s been let loosened.

do hit the like button if you’d like to plot with him, and i’ll pop into your discords / dms! hyuk’s a muse that i prefer brainstorming for instead of having plots ahead of time, so feel free to go ahead and throw anything in his direction when we discuss!

profile / background 

about stuff : (tw: abandonment, anger issues, violence)

he says he doesn’t have parents, which is partially true, considering he spent almost all of his life in the foster care system, until he aged out at 18. being bounced around from foster house to foster house in the adoption system didn’t do well for his own personality and view about himself, and he came away with a really bad anger streak and violent tendencies, especially when someone tries to poke him / agitates him.

if he wasn’t an idol, hyuk would have gone on to do some petty crimes, because prior to the age of 13 (when he was casted by bc for his face), he was sliding towards the dark side of the law, running from school, getting into street fights, doing little things that never set a juvenile record, but still wasn’t all that clean either.

he was casted one day when running away from school when he was 13 (his results needless to say were trash), and was offered a contract because of his face. his company was looking for someone with similar vibes to his own, and was willing to train him as long as he remained committed to the trainee path. he took up the offer with the insistence of his then foster mother--the orphanage’s owner, who honestly couldn’t wait to get rid of him, due to all the trouble he made.

so jaehyuk became a trainee just through a scrape of luck--his rapping skills were pretty okay, and so were his vocals, and bc felt as though they could polish him more if he did became a trainee, and so he started 13 years of his trainee life. being a trainee actually directed a lot of his excess energy from his angered self into his personal commitment to master a single thing--and he eventually became known amongst trainees as one of the most competitive, even if he wasn’t the best at what he did.

he was like a blackhole, constantly desperate to learn, and when he learned something, he was equally as desperate to master it, just doing things in the way that he knew how to do--and that was to knock on it until he either punched a hole through and understood it, or the door opened on itself for him. rapping became that particular outlet that he felt he moderately achieved some success with, but it wasn’t enough.

hungry for more he turned his eyes to producing, composing, even took acting classes and variety classes, just to fill that gaping hole of inadequacy that he felt made him out to be just not enough. while he knows he’s not the best, he’s proud of his unique vision for performance, and is pretty insistent about his artistic vision, which he gradually found a talent for.

but well. its not enough. he wanted--no he needed more.

and so when riot came and he became their leader by some crappy stroke of fate, he set what he felt was the lowest boundary  for all of their members : respect each other, give your best to all that you do for riot, if not, i will sock you in the face. from the beginning, hyuk was very clear that he wouldn’t be the best leader, because he knew he had more than enough flaws in himself, and even felt that he lacked the qualifications to be one, but since his own fate relied on riot being successful, he expected everyone else in the group to at the very least, treat it with the same respect and effort he does, because one way or another they’re all in this whole thing together.

funny thing is: a few months after their debut and their first scandal (that wasn’t his), he lands himself in hot water for a violence scandal, having punched a male bystander in anger. bc was chagrined enough to put him on notice and probation for a while, and desperate to claim back a bit of a credibility, a press conference was held for him to apologise publically.

hyuk abandoned his pride (for various personal reasons as well) that day and went on his hands and knees in front of the reporters, apologising for his scandal and promising to be a better person. unfortunately, that sealed quite a lot of opportunities for him from his company.

his company felt that he needed to get a better grip on his emotions and anger issues before coming out again to the public in other areas apart from his group, and so he wasn’t able to do any variety or act , or even produce any songs (he still wrote lyrics and produced for his group occasionally, and could still produce his own songs, but those songs he produced wouldn’t be selected for a solo), and so to pacify his company hyuk literally abstained from creating another scandal from himself (though he did still cause a bit of problems in his own group), and held himself back until much recently. apart from that, his company publically disclosed much of his history and background to the public--thus rendering it open knowledge that hyuk was an orphan (abandoned by his mother), and from the foster care system, with a slight history of not going well in school etc.

his image is not particularly clean and bright, instead he’s known for the nitty gritty stuff, of which most of his fans have taken to his bad boy image, liking to imagine him to a particular trope because of his apparently rather cute face.

some plot ideas:

he’s a lone wolf by nature, and so he has little (only 2) friends around him, unless you’re mostly from bc and have trained with him for a set amount and a good period of time. these are the people that know him the best, who sees past that angry battered child inside of him to the blackhole that’s yearning for approval and desperate to make himself feel whole again. they’ve seen his self destructive tendencies, watched him careen over the edge and violently fall, do things that he knows clearly isn’t good for him and then suffer the repercussions all over again. ( note: cannot be from his group..he probably doesn’t have a good relationship with most of the riot members)

exes, flings, fwbs : god, he has so many. none of them are consistent, and none of them last between a month to two months really. he simply treats them as if there’s no option of anything further beyond just the wrestle of bodies in bedsheets, and the fierce scratch of his nails against their backs. more often than not, its not him that gets hurt, because he has the tendency to leave before anything further happens. has he fallen for any of them before? probably not. only one, really. don’t get your hopes up, he tells them with a cigarette dangling from his lips and puffs of smoke in the air. because he’s just nothing but the biggest jerk when it comes to feelings and relationships.

the bad influence: he does a lot of vices, from smoking to drinking, to just..a lot of things that most people won’t attempt to try, chasing after that fleeting moment of a thrill and desire. perhaps you’re looking for a kindred spirit who likes the thrill of danger as you do, or you’d like him to spoil you for the worse things in life, open a door to destroy and ruin you completely just like he feels that he’s done to himself.

rivals: ...yeah i don’t think i need to say more, because he’s someone that rises up to the challenge so fully and completely its almost as if he’s itching to have a fight or a challenge. perhaps he’s punched you before, or you differ in your philosophies and values, one way or another, it’s hyuk’s fault that he’s offended you, and you’re both just going to go down because of it.

connection:

the girl he’s in love with (possibly his endgame ; arnd 26 yrs old?) : an idol from a group as well, she’s one of his few closest friends, and he’s known her for around 13 years. they have a on & off friends with benefits thing, with him meeting her after she left his company for 10 years. he’s the one she always gravitates to back again, and they’re equally, broken, twisted and carnal--that’s why they’re perfect for each other, since they’re the only ones that can take and survive each other.

[mytsukkishine]

udgdh maybe long request? so damien haas x reader where when ver the smosh gang go out to drink, damien and y/n are the sober ones that'll keep each other company but recently y/n has been drifting away bc she's in love with him. and one day damien gets hella drunk so y/n has to take him to her apt (which is roommates with Courtney) -maybe some drunk damien singing and giving y/n little kisses and he gets super hungover?? as well as angst/soft shiz?? sorry for the long request!! love yur fics!

A/n: whoa okay anon, I enjoyed myself too much in writing this and I hope this will be to your expectation. *wink wonk* u can anon me again if u liked it pls hahaha enjoy! Though I’m sorry because reader and Courtney aren’t roommates here sorrryyy!!!

summary: Drunk you accidentally kissed Damien. Then you avoid him for days until Courtney invited you out for a drink again. Feelings, kisses and drunk singing. What could go wrong?

a/n2: fluff and angstyy. ya’ll like hurting huh? haha

a/n3: hello, i made a Kofi account and I hope you would support me! I needed a little help with my financial shits and I hope my fanfics can be a little help. 

buy me coffee please, senpais

words: 2.4k

Also a little mature because of alcohol and kissing? lmao can u all guess the songs? it’s only two (I chose those songs because their voices suit Damien soooo much)

You sighed, empty beer bottle in hand as you looked aroundyou. Everyone was drunk. You saw Keith laying on top of Noah on the couch, bothguys in deep slumber. Courtney, Olivia, and Sarah were nowhere to be found, youjust assumed they had taken control over Shayne’s bed right now.

Oh right, the squad was at Shayne’s apartment. They had alittle drinking session, celebrated Shayne’s graduation. Speaking of Shayne,you saw him already fast asleep on the bean bag, empty drinks on the floor andhis Switch console in hand.

You slowly stood up, your head spinning a little and youstopped for a moment, eyes adjusting to the light that came from the kitchen.

You thought about turning the TV off but you scoffed, notwanting to step on Shayne because you knew your balance right now was not atits best.

As soon as you stepped on the kitchen- “Jesus!” You said alittle too loud, hand on your chest as you saw Damien on the floor, completelyhidden by the counters.

He smiled and waved, his cheeks pink and in his hand was abottle of beer.

You groaned, frowned at him but walked towards him. You tooka sit beside him, sliding down on the floor slowly as you cursed your back forhurting a little.

“Hey,”

“Hey,” You rested your head on his shoulder and took thedrink from his hand and chugged down its contents.

You felt the warmth radiating through Damien and you can’thelp but to get emotional. Was it from the alcohol? Might as well blame it ifgiven the chance.

You have liked Damien since the first time he told you hewatches anime. You were smitten, you were pulled towards his radiance that noone can escape.

Damien was the light that managed to blind you.

And now, seated side by side, with your feelings jumbled up.You can’t help but to want to hug him and maybe confess your feelings so theitching in your heart can stop.

He was a dream. Really. He’s a gentleman, loves anime,gaming, a very nice person, and funny. Ever since he became part of the Smoshfam, many people adored him. And you thought to yourself, you were lucky enoughto be his friend, might as well stay as friends than confessing your feelingsand turning into strangers.

Damien may be kind but you don’t know if he was the type ofperson that would avoid you if you confess.

“Y/N,”

“What?” You didn’t realize that you spaced out for a momentbecause Damien was chuckling as he took the bottle away from you.

Another thing that was stopping you from confessing wasbecause you heard something going on between Damien and his friend outsidework.

Of course, who were you to compete against a long-timefriend? One time you have seen Damien with this girl, she was pretty. Longblack hair and thin waist. They were talking animatedly as they walked towardsthe mall—and that pretty much hurt you.

They look so perfect.

“Hey are you okay?” Damien suddenly, his hands on yourcheeks. You realized you were looking at him with tears pooling in your eyes.You felt our insides churn as Damien wiped your tears away.

Your head was slowly spinning but you kept your focus onhim.

“Dames,” You murmured and Damien’s pink cheeks looked likethey were glowing. Maybe because of the alcohol. Yeah, the alcohol.

“I want a drink,”

Damien chuckled, tapping your forehead in the process. “Silly,you’re drunk.”

“No. I can still drink, hell I can even recite the company’smission and vision.”

“Really? Damien raised his brow as he looked down at you,then that’s when you realized your faces were to close. You were resting yourchin on his shoulder as you looked up at him with wide eyes, your noses almosttouching.

You were used to this. The closure. You were known for beingthe clingy, cuddly friend. You always hug your friends or cuddle with them.Whether it was Keith or Courtney, Shayne or Wes. Of course, Damien received themost cuddles from you.

“Damien,”

Your eyes were getting blurry, the spinning in your headintensified as you glanced down at Damien’s lips.

Blame the alcohol.

Your lips landed on his and it was so soft and—his lips werestill, you pulled back only to land a peck on his lips again.

You felt his hand on your cheeks and you wanted to kiss himagain but your eyes failed you as you closed them and drifted to sleep.

~

You groaned, the sunglasses you wore were not doing its jobbecause the sun was still blaring down on you, shaming you from what you havedone last night. After you woke up by 5AM, you found yourself on the couch,Noah and Keith on the floor sleeping soundly and no Damien to be found. Thenyou remembered what you have done and you immediately went home to find thenearest Starbucks.

You threw your empty cup in the trash nearby and sighed.

You have kissed Damien. Your friend.

Now he knew how you felt.

You felt a bile building up your throat but ignored it, theitching in your heart was worse. Maybe this was it, you thought, you hadpracticed what it would be like if you ended your friendship with Damien andthe time has come where your practice won’t go to waste.

Even though you were sobered up, your head still hurts. Andyou’re freaking nervous. It was a Sunday today, and tomorrow you will have togo to work and face Damien.

“Ugh!” You cursed up at the sun, wishing the ground belowwould just swallow you up.

~

The whole afternoon you managed to stay in your cubicle.With some short trips to the bathroom and pantry, you achieved to avoid anySmosh Squad.

It was going all too well when—

“Y/N!”

You squeaked as you looked up from your computer, only tosee Olivia, Courtney and of course Damien. You immediately avoided eye-contactto Damien.

“You startled me, Olivia,”

“Sorry! Just wanted to make sure how you were,”

“Sobered up.” You answered truthfully, eyes now back to thecomputer. You were glad you were wearing your hoodie over so they weren’t ableto see your blushing cheeks.

“You left before we all woke up,” Olivia whined followed byCourtney. “I’m sorry, I was in a hurry,”

“For what?” You just grinned at them. You all chatted for awhile, Damien remained quiet at the side before Courtney said goodbye andwalked away together with Olivia.

Now it was you and Damien.

You sink in your chair as you looked up at Damien.

“Can we talk—”

“I—”

“Y/N, can you come to my office for a while?” One of theproducers asked you, looking up at the file he was holding and gave a smallgreeting to Damien.

“Ah sure…” You gave Damien an apologetic look then left.

Not yet. You can’t handle the rejection yet.

~

It has been three days since you have hanged out with thesquad, and it has been three days since you have seen Damien. The first day wasyou plainly avoiding him and now it seemed that fate was on your side becauseyou haven’t really seen him.

It was a Friday, and the office was buzzing out of peoplewhen Courtney stopped you from leaving your cubicle.

“Hey pretty lady, care to have a night out with us?” She wasgrinning slyly and you rolled your eyes. “What’s in it for me?” You playedalong and Courtney wrapped her arm around your shoulder. “A very good time,”Both of you laughed out loud but you agreed anyway.

Even though you were cautious around Damien, it doesn’t meanyou would stop hanging out with the squad. They are also a friend of yours andyou kind of miss them.

When Courtney said that Olivia and the rest were already atIan’s place, you immediately raised your brow. “We’re not going to a bar?”

“Silly Y/N. Ian has offered free drinks!” She exclaimedexcitedly and you just shook your head, heading to the parking lot and in toCourtney’s car.

~

Three drinks in and the rest of the squad were singing alongthe karaoke Ian has set up in his living room. It was a mess, Shayne wassinging loudly with Olivia and Keith—he was using his CFM voice, Ian was alreadyhalf-drunk and Damien—Damien was on the loveseat, just drinking.

You sighed. When you and Courtney had arrived, you didn’tgreet each other and it honestly killed you. Courtney seemed to have noticedthe atmosphere and asked you what’s up, but being the introvert you were, youjust reasoned out that you were kind of tired.

It was this again. Alcohol.

You guessed since alcohol was involved right now, it wasthe right time for you and Damien to have that talk.

However, being the stubborn you, it was now past midnightand the squad was asleep, all through the night you didn’t get the chance totalk to him.

Courtney and Shayne were on separate bean bags, bothasleep next to each other, the TV still on. Ian was nowhere to be found, youguessed he was in his room. Keith was on the couch, drooling.

It was like déjà vu. Except you weren’t that drunk. You onlyhad three drinks and stopped as soon as you saw Damien drinking alone. Speakingof Damien, you looked at the seat where he was previously in and saw it wasempty.

You sighed.

Maybe he left.

You decided to maybe grab some water from Ian’s kitchen, andthen maybe sleep on the guestroom Ian mentioned to you earlier that that wasvacant.

You slowly stood up and stretch. You sluggishly walkedtowards the kitchen and gasped a little as you saw Damien hunched over thesink.

“Goddamnit Dames, you scared me,” He didn’t answer but youcan see that the tip of his ears was red. You walked up to him and tapped hisshoulders lightly, “Damien?”

“Hm?” He was obviously drunk because when he looked at you,he was sporting a wide smile, cheeks red and eyes squinted together. “Oh hey,Y/N,” He waved but lost his balance. You quickly took hold of his arm andpulled him towards you.

“Dames, how much did ya drink huh?” You got no reply asDamien draped his arm around your shoulder, “We should—sing!” He hiccupped andyou can smell the alcohol off of him. You decided that since you have been abad friend to Damien these past few days, you’ll settle him down on Ian’s spareroom.

“Come on big boy, let’s get you to bed,” You looked at thesink and saw it was clean, meaning Damien didn’t throw up. His hair was wet somaybe he washed his face.

“Whaaat? But we’re singing,” You just shook your head andguided him, thankful that he wasn’t putting all his weight on you. When youreached the spare room, you gently laid him to sit down but he fell on his backcausing you to lose your own balance, and you found yourself in Damien’s arms.

“Y/N,” He called out softly, his eyes closed and youremained still.

“Called her for thefirst time yesterday~” Damien started, even though he’s drunk, he was stillsinging beautifully. “Finally found themissing…. Part of me,” he stopped in the middle but he continued, he hashis other hand in the air, swinging with the song he was singing.

“Felt so close but youwere far away~ Left me without anything to say~~”

With hands on his chest, you pushed yourself up gently untilhis other hand stopped you.

“Y/N,” He called softly.

“Have you been avoiding me?”

Okay, the million-dollar question you weren’t expectingright now.

You were about to answer when Damien released a chuckle.

He released a sighed as he now sang another song, “To be drunk~” Damien started, eyesclosed but he pressed his forehead against yours. “And in love in New York City~” He sang, missing some notes butyou knew that song very well.

“Mmm into morningcoffee,” He murmured but still in tune, “Burning mmhm the hours talking,” he stopped and he opened his eyes.

You both stared at each other.

“Damn…” Hewhispered before leaning in and capturing your lips in a sweet, short kiss.

You instantly closed your eyes and savored the kiss.Damien’s lips were as soft as what you remembered and you want to cry.

Damien’s drunk and you shouldn’t—Damien pulled back, a shysmile etched on his lips as he continued to stare at you.

“Please don’t avoid me… I like you,” Your heart fluttered fora moment, fat tears pouring down your eyes as Damien pulled you in closer for ahug.

You stayed there, both of your feet still on the edge of thebed and you were sure it would hurt in the morning but you don’t care.

Damien likes you. And was hurting because of you.

Boy, you two have a lot to talk about tomorrow morning.

~

You heard a groan beside you and you squinted your eyes, themorning light through the window greeted you so harshly that caused you to buryyour face in a strong, warm chest.

“Y/N…” A surprised voice of Damien welcomed you, and youremembered that both of you fell asleep hugging each other. “Hey,” Yougreeted with a smile and Damien was confused. Confused because he woke up withyou in his arms.

“H-how? I’m s-sorry,” He stuttered but you just hugged him.

“No, it’s okay. I-…” You started, Damien visibly relaxing inyour hug.

“I’m sorry for avoiding you, Damien. After that kiss… I… Iwas a coward,”

“No, Y/N,”

“And I like you…”

Silence. You buried your face on his chest and you heard himsigh.

“If only we talked sooner, we would’ve been kissing,” Damiencommented and you laughed, hitting his stomach softly.

Silence covered the both of you before Damien cleared histhroat, “I… I remember singing last night,” You laughed out loud, hugging himtighter. “Yeah, drunk singing. It was adorable,”

Damien grinned, “Would you allow me to sing to you in thefuture?” You felt your cheeks heating up and you just nodded. You felt Damien’slips on your head.

Now, this wasn’t what you practiced for but you ain’tcomplaining.

[silverbastardgoldenfool]

Realm of the Quarantine Reread End-of-Book Questionnaire: Assassin’s Apprentice

Any differences between your first/previous reading experience and this one?

Uhhhhh yep!! I can’t even believe how different it was. Every scene has taken on an entirely different colour and flavour in my memory. I skimmed far too much the first time, yes, but also I just went into it with the wrong framework. I think I’ve mentioned this before but my mum recommended me these books on the basis of my love of A Song of Ice and Fire. She directly compared them and said how similar they were. Because of RotE’s length I had been putting it off for years, and only finally picked up Assassin’s Apprentice because I was itching to do an ASOIAF reread but was (and am) trying to wait until Winds of Winter to do it. 

So you can imagine the difficulty settling into a book like Assassin’s Apprentice when you’re expecting Game of Thrones. I remember my overall impression on my first read being that it was a pretty standard fantasy novel with the only really exceptional thing about it being the characters and their relationships. Characters are always my top priority so it was enough to keep me invested and progressing onto the next book and the rest of the series, but I did so not having absorbed nearly as much as I should have from the first book in the series.

Now, just from revisiting that first book, my understanding of Fitz and the world he operates in has exponentially increased and I know that will transform my experience of every book going forward. I really made sure to make myself slow down and read every word; absorb descriptions and just be in each moment without racing to the next one. Overall this book (and all the Fitz books) are much more concerned with the human condition and the effects of abuse and trauma and deep loneliness than being an epic fantasy. In fact it barely reads like fantasy at all; it’s incredibly grounded and focused. Of course the elements are there, but while Assassin’s Apprentice may not be as subversive as the rest of the series, it is certainly not generic fantasy. This book just feels alive to me now in a way it didn’t before against the rest of the series. I can regard it as a beautiful piece of the puzzle in its own right instead of just the setup. I wanna reiterate I always really liked Assassin’s Apprentice but it just paled in comparison to my unholy obsession with the rest of it. Idk this reread just really shifted a lot of things into perspective for me and I’m excited!!

Something you can’t believe you forgot

So so much but most ridiculous GALEN IS QUEEN DESIRE’S BASTARD am I dumb??? I didn’t even remember until it was explicitly stated lol

Favourite character introduction moments/scenes

It’s gotta be a tie between the Fool, Kettricken and Patience (realising there is a common theme here of Fitz making an idiot of himself). I genuinely was laughing so hard when Fitz is like, actively making himself smaller and so pleased with himself trying to help the Fool, and of course the Fool’s iconic “listen you idiot” ugh it’s just chef’s kiss baby, that’s what we in the biz call a meet-cute! (I know they have seen each other before, but this is the first time the Fool talks to Fitz). Then of course we have Kettricken who poisons Fitz at their first meeting, and Patience who Fitz continuously embarrasses himself in front of before even realising who she is. The fact that all three of these people end up being some of Fitz’s only genuinely loving relationships makes it even better.

Favourite character arcs

I think I’ve gotta go with Verity and Burrich. Verity goes from kind of a bloke’s bloke (he was so different in the beginning than I remembered!) to being a proper King-in-Waiting. He is self-sacrificial but not for pride; he genuinely cares deeply for his people, as a whole and as individuals, and will do anything it takes to protect them. He is far from perfect, and he could have done a lot more for Fitz when he was younger, but once Fitz is in his eyeline and he is confronted with the life the boy has led he seems suitably shamed and tries to do his best for him. He’s a good boy and I love him!

Burrich of course is just. unlucky. His health deteriorates due to injuries. He gets saddled with some kid and is burdened to bring him up to an impossible standard he has set himself (to not shame a man he has an impossibly high opinion of). He’s deprived of a job he loved and was good at, and most importantly he’s deprived of his boyfriend I mean lover I mean “master”.

His arc is not a happy one at all but it is compelling, and I can’t help but love him and feel for him despite also disagreeing with him on almost everything :)

Favourite quote/s

Unfortunately I don’t have any tabs atm so I couldn’t really keep track, but my heart exploded when Fitz said to the Fool after going into his room, “I wish I had a place that were as much me as that place is you.”

Favourite relationships

Fitz/Fool obviously. Even though they don’t have that many interactions in this book I loved every single one of them. The Fool volunteering to care for Smithy after Fitz has endured a long day of horrendous abuse is just!!!!! Kindness! What a concept! I could really see why they develop such a deep bond so quickly.

Fitz/Burrich is just so real and so compelling and it hurts me but I love it. Fitz/Chade breaks my heart bc Chade is manipulating his way into Fitz’s heart - I think without realising it a lot of the time bc he is lonely too, but the power imbalance is not okay when he is the centre of Fitz’s world for a long time and the closest thing he has to a friend. Knowing how Chade behaves not too much later just makes it even worse when he is so nice in this book because it just shows why Fitz has such a hard time being his own person and saying no to Chade ever.

Fitz/Verity for obvious reasons. Fitz/Hands!! They’re cute but it makes me sad that Hands betrays him in AQ. Weirdly I liked Fitz/Molly way more this time but more their friendship than anything. And next is Royal Assassin and their deeply toxic romance soooooo.

And Fitz and his puppies BUT WE DON’T TALK ABOUT THAT.

Favourite setting

Do yourself a favour and read the description of the Mountain Kingdom and specifically the palace. It is STUNNING and something I completely skimmed over the first time cos I’m a dumb idiot bitch I could have been picturing a city of huge colourful tulips all this time but fuck me I guess!!

Favourite chapter

As a rereader I think I’ve gotta say chapter one. There’s just so much to pick apart all crammed into one chapter. It still holds a lot of mystery even when you’ve read the entire series.

Most loved character

At this point I’ve gotta say Fitz. That’s who my heart is with during this book and he NEEDS IT

Most hated character

Okay I found Regal a much better villain on this read and hated him A LOT but whomst I despised even more w the very fibre of my being was Galen bitch disgusting!!!!!! Verity was so like, smug?? when he killed him and it was so satisfying. It’s what she deserves!!

Raise your hand if you’ve been personally victimised by Robin Hobb (most heartbreaking and/or visceral moments)

Literally this whole book was so harsh and I was perpetually emo throughout but off the top of my head, Fitz’s depressive episode after Shrewd and Chade test his loyalty fricking broke me, as did the entirety of Galen’s abuse/training; since I was paying so much more attention this time it hit a lot harder that he is an absolute textbook abuser and the psychological torment he inflicts on Fitz is just. deeply upsetting to say the least. It really got under my skin.

Details, observations, spoilery notes made with the benefit of the full picture

Okay this is where I just dump all the notes I took while reading that don’t fit anywhere else. It’ll be long lol so strap in.

- It’s never not funny to me that Narrator Fitz comes across as like a hundred years old when in actuality he is like twenty. Also that he looks back on himself with such a sense of wisdom and superiority, yet we know there is dumbarsery aplenty to come. Amazing.

- I’ve never really registered that for the first six years of his life Fitz had a mother who loved him and I don’t know how to feel about that

- REVELATION THAT SEEMS REALLY OBVIOUS IN HINDSIGHT: Fitz most likely only spoke Chyurdan when he was abandoned, which would have played a huge role in why he was not only quiet but unresponsive to what was happening around him. He probably didn’t even understand that he wasn’t going to see his mother again until much later, and he didn’t know how to ask questions. When he goes to the Mountain Kingdom and Kettricken comments that he speaks Chyurdan like someone remembering the language he doesn’t comment on it, so it’s likely that future Fitz doesn’t register that he didn’t always speak Six Duchies(?). He mentions in the narration that the memory of being abandoned is incredibly stark but not necessarily reliable, and possibly shaped by the Skill, which to me opens up the possibility that his memory is essentially auto-translating for him things he didn’t understand at the time. We also know that at the time of writing this he’s given up his memories of his mother etc. up to the stone dragon, so obviously his recollections of these traumatic events are going to be warped by that. Anyway thanks to my sister for pointing this out and being much smarter than me.

- According to Fitz’s grandfather, Chivalry always knew about Fitz. Don’t know how trustworthy a man desperate to yeet his grandson out of his care is but there ya go.

- Weird and hilarious that Shrewd tries to see Fitz on the day he arrives but then just like. What? Forgets about him? For years? lol

- Chade literally tells Fitz that he is a king’s man now and that’s the most important thing about him YIKES

- Chade becomes the closest thing Fitz has to a friend for quite a long time and that is fucking depressing

- It’s interesting that Chade had to be convinced to teach Fitz. It’s hinted at that there was an ~incident~ the last time they tried to train someone, followed by a long period of Chade being left to rot in the walls.

- Not to be out here diagnosing fictional characters but like.Fitz. Literally has depression.

- Fitz having to turn down Fedwren’s offer of apprenticing for him is so sad. It’s the life Fitz should have had.

- The Fool’s non-binary gender is mentioned as early as Chapter Nine! (Published in 1995! We have no choice but to stan!)

- “So quickly we were all made accomplices in our own degradation.” OOF.

- I really realised this time that the reason Fitz seems so shit at things he trained his whole life for later is because all that training was interrupted by many months of isolation, deprivation and abuse. All at the age of like 13-14. He got out of the habit of subconsciously acting in a way that Burrich or Chade would approve of. For a long time the only person he needed approval from was Galen, and he became completely single-minded about it because that was his means of survival. And you don’t just recover from that - especially since neither Chade or Burrich would give him the time of day for an extended period *after* his training was done. When Chade did finally talk to him again it wasn’t to recommence training really; he just gave him a bunch of tasks to do. By the time Fitz got to the Mountain Kingdom he was completely out of practice, and still managed pretty bloody well in spite of it.

- Kind of related to the last point: I love that while Fitz isn’t a savant at anything he’s a pretty realistic jack of all trades. He not only has an aptitude for learning almost any skill or subject but a genuine broad curiosity too. It’s one of the few things that is just him, ya know? It’s just his personality and something he can find joy in, even if it does also factor into his being used by others.

- Imagine being Burrich and finding out that your son thought you were a dog murderer for like ten years lol ouch

- Fitz thinks about the Fool soooo often in the Mountain Kingdom, pointing out things that remind him of him, or things he would like. It’s v soft tbh I love them so much!!

- Another dumb thing I forgot is that Regal is convinced that Shrewd had Fitz poison his mother to death, which adds a rather important layer onto his motivations lol

Anyone doing a reread feel free to fill this out! You don’t have to use the tag :)

[ohtheseboysilove]

Unwanted feelings  [Ben Hardy x F!Reader]

Words : 3, 900 K +

Warnings : angst, fluff, sad joe hours

Summary : Joe fall for Ben’s girlfriend. And obviously, it hurt.

Note :  Poor baby Joe !!! I wrote these two parts in only few days bc i was super inspired for this request, thanks again @gardenjungle ! There a part 2 almost done to finish this story bc it would been too heavy in one part, tell me what you think lovies !!

☀ Masterlist ☀ 800 followers celebration !!!

Joe never meant to feel something for (Y/N), he was aware how wrong it was. Ben and (Y/N) were together for five years now and, recently, they get engaged. Joe’s heart broke at the new but he had no right to feel sad or jealous, she wasn’t his and she never will. But feelings weren’t something that Joe or anyone could control, they were here and there weren’t much Joe could do expect waiting for them to fade away.

Ben introduced (Y/N) to him and all the bohemian rhapsody cast during the shooting of the movie and at first, it was just an innocent crush for Joe. (Y/N) was a beautiful girl and even a blind man could see that. She had the prettiest and most charming smile he ever saw, his heart fluttered heavily in his chest every time. He also really like her doe-eyes, full of happiness and excitement each time she went on set, making Joe weak on his knees. Yes, she was absolutely a true beauty.

But things went down when they became friends and saw each other more and more, Ben was very happy that his girlfriend and his new friends were having fun together so he brought her everywhere. Joe felt himself falling harder. She was also a really fun person, always giggling at his jokes, even when they weren’t funny, she was definitively a good audience. Always a witty comment to tease back Joe, catching him off guard most of the time because he was noticing how similar they were and how much he wanted to know her more. Without Ben. But it was awful thoughts to have so he kept his mouth shut. Ben used to call (Y/N) sunshine and Joe never more agreed in his life, she was a literal ball of pure joy, in an eternal good mood and the red hair knew they could had been such a good match. He was just five years too short, life could really be unfair.

The other thing which wasn’t helping Joe about forgetting his feelings was how much (Y/N) was a touchy-feely person. She loved hugs and cheek kisses and everything that was friendly and totally innocent but it made Joe shivered every time. The other day, she cheekily pressed a finger on his nose, making a boop noise and Joe almost chocked at the gesture. She didn’t seems to notice how much this simple and childish act had make her friend blushed, Ben had just entered the room and nothing else existed anymore. Usually she only did the nose-boop to her boyfriend, loving to tease him and after that, Joe had think about the meaning, why she was suddenly so friendly ? Did that mean something ? Was he overthinking a stupid think ? He didn’t have the answer and wasn’t sure if he wanted them.

Joe knew he was too deep in with (Y/N) to not fall in love with her, after a year or so, during shooting, trying to repress his feelings for Ben’s girlfriend, it was worse than at the beginning. But during the seven next months, he saw her less, him and the cast were promoting the movie around the world and he didn’t think about her too much. He just knew she was with Ben in Italy for the shooting a new Netflix movie and he honestly thought that he was finally free of these stupid and forbidden feelings for (Y/N). He was so piss off with himself because Ben and (Y/N) were such dear friends to him and he could ruin everything if someone knew his real thoughts about her.

So when Ben invited everyone to celebrate his engagement with (Y/N), Joe was rather confident, his feelings were weaker and almost none existent at this point. Life was good again and he could hang out with his best mates without fearing to spill his feelings for (Y/N). But life wasn’t that easy. He should have know that. As soon as he stepped into the brand new house of Ben and (Y/N), he felt weird. Especially when Gwilym and Rami were doing bets about when (Y/N) would get pregnant. ‘In the next six months!’ Rami seemed very sure of himself and Joe’ stomach twisted uncomfortably. And then he saw her. Well, not really at first because she literally jumped on him, hugging him tightly and rambling about how much she had miss everyone. Her lips pressing in a loud Mwah! on his burning cheek and then she screamed for five minutes straight with Lucy about her engagement ring. The two girls gushing excitedly about how beautiful the jewellery was, looking at it in every angle of light possible, bouncing on their feet like kids in front of a candy shop.

Allen and his wife snorted loudly when Lucy sent a knowing glance to her boyfriend, Rami swallowed nervously at the silent meaning ‘what are you waiting to ask me the same question dumbass ?’ He could swore she actually mouthed the word dumbass.

Joe felt even weirder when he hugged Ben, who was telling him how happy he was to see him. Then the red hair looked back at (Y/N) and the guilt and shame were now very clearly the reason he felt weird. His feelings for (Y/N) hit him like a brick in his stomach, coming back even stronger than before. She was also prettier than he remembered or maybe it was just her glow from her recent engagement that was making her so breath-taking, she was literally shinning. The rest of the evening was blurry for Joe, he drank much more than necessary but it was the only thing he had to survive that night. Especially when Ben and (Y/N) stood up, his arm around her waist as he raised a toast at his future wife, telling everyone how much he loved her and how excited he was to spend the rest of his life with her by his side. The words of Ben weren’t the most painful for him, not even when he talked about having kids with her, no. The worst was the way (Y/N) was looking at him, her head raised toward the blond, eyes glossy and a smile of pure adoration on her features, like he was the only person in the room at this moment. It was love, pure and raw. Ben bowed to give her kiss and she beamed at the gesture, her fingers caressing his cheek so softly that it felt too intimate for Joe to watch. He wanted to do nothing else than go home and cry. And that what he did. After saying he was feeling sick, and it wasn’t a lie, only it wasn’t from the alcohol, but he kept this detail for himself, he left in a Uber and sobbed during all the way back to his place.

Joe made his best to avoid the couple during the next months, he was so ashamed of himself, he was supposed to be happy for his friends, not stupidly jealous. But he didn’t want to raise any suspicion and so he found excuses to not go mostly when (Y/N) was around, focusing on going out with only the boys. He even had a girlfriend! Her name was Molly, she was cute and adorably small and Joe liked her very much, she was really a nice girl. But she wasn’t (Y/N). He felt horrible because he was desperate to have a date at (Y/N) and Ben’s wedding, he couldn’t go alone, he would just break down. That why, when he noticed the way the waitress from his favourite café was looking at him, he asked her for a date. And from there, they started dating, making forget the pain in his heart for few moments.

Exactly eight months after the engagement party, it was the wedding day. Joe was sick, truly sick. The thought of watching the woman he was deeply in love with, marrying one his best friend was making him almost throw up. And he was the best man of Ben, like his life wasn’t enough of a joke but he couldn’t have said no to his friend. Despite being in love with the bride-to-be, he was happy for his friends, it was a bitter-sweet feeling.

“I’m so fucking nervous” Ben breathed as he watched himself in the mirror, straightening his vest for the million times. “What if she don’t come ? Maybe we planned our wedding too fast, maybe she is already far away and I’m gonna end up alone at the altar and–“

“Ben, relax, it’s just the wedding nerves which are talking” Joe put a friendly hand on his shoulder, smiling at him. “She loves you, it easy to see that mate, you and her belong together, she will come today, I promise you that” The red hair added with an emotional voice and Ben shook slowly his head, giving him a grateful smile.

“You’re right, she loves me and today we are going to get married” The blond took a deep breath then a sip of his neat whiskey – to calm his nerves but he was careful to not get drunk either – and readjusted his bow tie with shaky hands. He noticed how Joe discretely wiped his watering eyes and gave him a tight hug. “Don’t start crying now mate or I’m gonna cry too, I can’t go to the altar with puffy eyes” He joked with weak voice, making his best to swallow back his tears.

“I’m just so happy for the both of you” Joe replied with a sad smile. It wasn’t completely the reason for his tears but he wouldn’t never say the truth to Ben. “Let’s get you married, Jones”

"The future bride want to see you, best man" Lucy’s head popped up by the door and smiled fondly at Joe and Ben’s embrace.

"I’m coming" The red hair nodded and patted Ben’ shoulder. "I see you at the altar" He winked at the blond who chuckled lightly, still trying to shake out his nerves.

Joe followed Lucy in a long hallway until (Y/N)’s room. He took a deep breath before entering after the little blond, a bit anxious to see her in her wedding dress.

She was peering at the window, watching the guests walking to their seats for the ceremony. Joe’s breath itched in his throat at the sight. Now he was certain she never had been so stunning. Her white wedding dress was hugging her perfectly and wasn’t too classic, it was a true reflection of (Y/N) personality. She had a light makeup because I’m going to cry anyway! she had say to Lucy with an already glossy gaze. The little blond had left to check if everything was ready for the most important day of her friend. Joe had no idea for how long he stayed quiet, looking at her with pure wonder and so much fondness. The way her brows were frowning just a tad and her bottom lip trapped between her teeth were showing that she was nervous.

"You are beautiful" Joe breathed suddenly like he couldn’t keep it for himself anymore. (Y/N) jumped at the voice and turned around with a light giggle. "Absolutely perfect" It was probably the only day he could give her so deep compliments without seeming too desperately in love with her.

"Thank you Joe" She blushed and made a twirl on herself, making the red hair clapped. "You look good too, very nice suit" She smiled widely, her voice was sweating with excitement.

"Lucy said you wanted to see me ?" In a cheesy romcom it would be the perfect moment for (Y/N) to confess that she couldn’t marry Ben because she was in love with him instead. He would run away with her without a single hesitation, he didn’t care how mean that sounded, he would do it in a heartbeat.

But of course, that wasn’t the reason she called for him. Ben was the reason, her future husband and the love of her life.

"Is he okay ? Still want to marry me, right ?" Her fingers were fidgeting together as she sat on the sofa. "I’m so nervous"

"Ben is in the same state as you (Y/N). He is and I quote so fucking nervous that my ass is literally sweating, Joe, my ass is sweating!" The bride-to-be let out an airy laugh echoed in the room, her eyes glittering with adoration. "So yeah, he is nervous but he is very eager to marry you" Joe murmured, his gaze exploring every inch of her beautiful face, he didn’t want to forget this image.

"That sound like my Benny" She replied with a honey coated voice, her finger playing absent-mindedly with her engagement ring. Soon to be exchange for a wedding one. "I’m so excited Joe and so damn nervous too, what if I tripped on my way to the altar ? Oh my god, this is totally something that could happen to me !" She clasped her hand on her mouth with a loud gasp, her mind racing at the thought.

"I’m sure Ben would still marry you anyway" Joe chuckled and handed her a glass of bubbly champagne. She thanked him quietly and took a little sip, savouring the taste on her tongue. "I never saw you so stress before, you have no reason to doubt about your marriage" He gently rubbed her arm and she sighed deeply, her leg bouncing on the floor.

"I...I’m just...scared" She whispered, her eyes glued on the drink. "Sometimes I feel like Ben shouldn’t be with me, he is a freaking famous actor now and I’m still...me, the old and boring (Y/N)" She sniffled quietly before taking a bigger sip. "I’m afraid, one day he will notice that too, he could have any beautiful model or actress in the world but no, he is still with me and I know he loves me but...he could go for so much better" Her voice broke at the end of her sentence as well as Joe’s heart.

The red hair shook his head and grabbed her shoulders.

"(Y/N), look at me. This is bullshit okay ? Ben is crazy about you and in few minutes he will be waiting for you at the altar, you can’t think like that" She nodded slowly, her chest panting a bit with anxiety. "You are...I don’t even know how to describe how perfect you are, you’re funny and smart and incredibly caring, always brightening the room every time you step inside. And you are so beautiful, I wish you could see yourself the way I — the way Ben see you. He is madly in love with you" (Y/N) froze, blinking furiously and she wasn’t sure if Joe was really speaking about Ben anymore. The look in his eyes...she was sure he didn’t look at Lucy that way.

"Joe..." She didn’t know what she wanted to say or to ask, she was too confused right now.

Joe locked his gaze with her and saw the surprise in her eyes, he could see how she was wondering about his words, almost discovering his dangerous secret. And he never wanted to kiss her so badly before. Her pretty lips, covered in a light shade of pink, shinning and terribly inviting, seemed to call him. But he didn’t, he couldn’t. Instead he cleared his voice and stood up, placing his trembling hands deep in his pockets.

"Sorry I already took too much of your time, I need to go, Ben’s probably waiting for me" He gave her a fake smile and hugged her quickly. "You’re absolutely perfect for each other, stop doubting yourself, okay ?"

She nodded and watched him leaves, her mind clouded with questions. But Lucy came back right after, followed by (Y/N)’s dad and marrying Ben was the only thought floating in her mind.

The ceremony had been beautiful, in a little, cosy garden coated with flowers everywhere. It was like looking at a Disney movie and the bride and groom-to be were definitively looking like a prince and princess at the altar, both of their gazes glossy before the start. When (Y/N) had appear, Ben had gasp loudly, lips pinched together as he tried to shake away the tears. The first row of guest had let out a collective Aaww, all of them melting at the flustered Ben. The wedding symphony was echoing through the garden as (Y/N) walked slowly, her arm crossed tightly with her father’s, an adoring smile only destined to her future husband. Her cheeks were already soaked with tears, happy tears obviously. Joe, as well as Ben, didn’t look away from her for a split second, he couldn’t stop. For a minute it felt like she was walking to him, her glittering eyes looking at him and he smiled sadly, a shaky breath leaving his parted breath because he knew it wasn’t the truth.

That was almost the only thing he remembered from that night, booze helped him forget the rest. The vows had been so deep and sweet toward each other, promising eternal love then the kiss, loving and sweet one, sealing their union and putting definitively Joe out of the game. Which was a stupid thought really, because he never had been in the game to begin with, it always had been (Y/N) and Ben. He was just the idiot who was in love with the last person he should. He watched them all night, twirling together at the rhythm of the music, gazes locked with each other and smiling so widely, it was painful to watch for Joe.

"You’re okay Sweetheart ?" Molly plopped herself in his lap, throwing an arm around his neck as Joe was sitting alone, watching the others danced. He swallowed back a grimace at the nickname Sweetheart. He didn’t like it. The only time he loved it was during a drinking game, when (Y/N) and him were married —meaning they had to drink as much as the other did — and she had a lot of fun calling him Sweetheart during all the evening. Now, in Molly’s mouth, it just sounded stupid.

"I’m great" He replied before stealing another glass of champagne from a waiter. 

"That was a lovely wedding, wasn’t it ?" Molly sighed as she watched the bride and groom sharing a sweet kiss, both of them giggling like kids. "They look so happy together" Ben made (Y/N) twirled on herself before catching her and pushing her flush on his chest, rubbing their noses together.

He hummed in agreement and gave her a light peck on the lips, knowing she was waiting for that. She smiled and blushed before resting her head on his shoulder sighing softly. Joe knew he was very selfish in his relation with Molly, she was clearly into him and, well, him...was trying to forget (Y/N), it wasn’t nice from to not be honest with her but he couldn’t bring himself to tell her the truth.

**

Joe needed to forget about his feelings, it was an emergency now. Ben and her were freaking married, it had to stop. He was decided to. That why he didn’t understand how he could have made the biggest mistake of his life during that evening.

"(Y/N), your tan look so good on you ! I’m super jealous !" Lucy gushed when they all arrived to Gwilym’s new place. "And no bra mark ? Someone had been cheekily topless during her honeymoon" She grinned at (Y/N) who blushed a bit but smirked anyway.

"Believe me or not, most of my clothes disappeared as soon as we arrived in Bali" she giggled and shared an intimate glance with her husband who wasn’t far, listening to the conversation.

"Was too hot for clothes, sunshine" The blond replied and stole a kiss from the newly bride who happily deepened it, making there friends whistled. "And with tits like yours, wearing a bikini top would be a total insult to your body, too pretty for that" He playfully smacked her ass as she gasped loudly, throwing him a shocked look which quickly turned a soft one when he kissed her again and murmured a low I love you.

"Well, I guess your honeymoon went more than great" Gwilym smiled affectionately at the couple, taking a sip of his beer.

"It was perfect" (Y/N) gushed with dreamy eyes as they all walked in the little garden. The weather was really nice and the sky clear, they all sat in the garden chairs, drinks in their hands. Ben made grabby hands toward his wife and she rolled her eyes but sat on his lap anyway. "Silly" She chuckled and nested her head against his neck.

Ben told everyone about the honeymoon, how the place was a real little paradise and Joe was pretending that everything was okay. But it wasn’t. He was ashamed but he couldn’t forget Ben’s words about (Y/N)’s nipples. His thoughts were going wild and it was fucking wrong, his gaze wandering few times on her top, which she was wearing without a bra, letting the shape of her tits visible. Joe swallowed nervously at the sight, cursing himself.

Most of the night went like that, good mood, few drinks and Gwilym ordered pizzas for everyone as they all told each other the last gossips of their respective life. Joe felt lonely. Gwilym was with his fiancée, an arm around her shoulders, Lucy and Rami was cuddling in the bench and (Y/N) was still on Ben’s lap, his arms wrapped around her waist. And Joe was all by himself as Molly had other plans for that night.

Before it was time to go, Joe was in the bathroom, not feeling great. His heart was broken, spending all the evening with the sight of (Y/N) and Ben glued together was painful. And he also had way too much drinks. Spinning head, slurred words and twisted stomach. Pathetic.

"Oh, sorry!" (Y/N) exclaimed when she opened the bathroom door and found Joe, bended above the sink, looking pale. "You’re okay Joe ?" She frowned her brows and entered the bathroom, taking a closer look at her friend.

"Fu...fuckin perfect" He hiccuped before splashing water on his face.

"Someone is very drunk" (Y/N) shook her head with a little smile. "Come on, let’s order you an Uber. We’re all leaving anyway" She slid an arm around his waist when he almost tripped on his own feet, trying to take a step forward.

They slowly walked on the long hallway and Joe was sweating, she never had been so close to him for such a long time. He could feel her breath on his neck and there faces were only few inches from each other.

"Wait, I...give me a minute, m’ not feeling great" He laid against the wall, his eyes closed and took deep breath, doing his best to not vomit. "Fuck, my head" He whined, everything was spinning around and he hated that sensation.

"Joe, are you going to throw up ? Should I get Gwil ? You look really pale !" She bowed her head a little, reached eyes level with him and looked at him through her eyelashes.

"I just need a second" Joe protested, his heart beating furiously in his chest at the closeness with the woman he was in love with. Her pretty eyes was making him weak on his knees and the butterflies in his stomach were going crazy, suddenly he wasn’t feeling so sick anymore.

"You’re sure ? You don’t look—" Joe couldn’t take it anymore and in a very stupid and drunk gesture, he grabbed her neck and crushed his lips against her.

**

Tag list :  @jennyggggrrr @rogmeddows

[saint-of-los-angeles]

Haphephobia 

Summary: Tommy hugs Nikki. Nikki doesnt even remember what a hug fucking feels like.

Then theres some fluff with a lil bit of angst bc this is me, folks.

Pairing: Tommy Lee x Nikki Sixx

Author's Note: This is basically the world's cheesiest story from the touch starved prompt "I haven't been hugged in years". So I had like, a ton of fun doing this little story?? The prompts were fun so, if anyone has any more, feel free?

--------

Nikki didn't know if he'd ever get used to just how happy Tommy was. He was an embodiment of sunshine, always bouncing on his heels with a giant grin on his face, the kind of grin that someone can't fake, the kind that reaches a person's eyes and makes them sparkle and radiate joy to everyone around them.

Nikki always felt so damn gloomy when compared to Tommy. He wasn't necessarily a storm, more like an overcast day with the promise of sun hiding behind dark clouds. His joy was there, honestly. He felt it bubbling up everytime he went on stage, every time he found that perfect lyric to compliment the perfect rhythm, and everytime he looked at his drummer, if he was being honest.

Wait, no. Bring that shit back in, Nikki.

That joy was always veiled, however, hidden behind a thin cover, almost to where if you looked hard enough, you could tell it was there, but Nikki would never share willingly.

Tommy was the closest friend he had had since, well, ever, and he had come so close on so many occasions to breaking the stoic act Nikki had been putting on for so many years.

It scared Nikki in more ways than one, he was becoming so damn attached to the kid, if Tommy ever left Nikki would be heartbroken, and that's a scary thought.

Nikki was pulled out of his daydreaming by the sound of a door slamming shut, and Nikki knew by the rhythm of the boots pounding on the floor exactly who it was. 

"Nikki! Dude, you won't believe it." The drummer was practically vibrating with excitement as he stared down at Nikki with shiny eyes.

"I just got back from the Whiskey dude, one of their acts canceled for tonight,  they want us to play! Its gonna be packed tonight, Nik, can you fucking believe it??"

Tommy's voice was this beautiful melody, almost as if he were singing the words, as if you could hear the joy dripping from his lips, and Nikki couldn't help but let a grin sneak out too.

Nikki stood up from his place on the couch, ready to pat the drummer's shoulder, ruffle his hair, chuck him gently under the chin. These gestures had been Nikki's way of letting the drummer know "I know I'm a little rough around the edges, but I still care about you, kid."

But as soon as the bassist was on his feet, he felt arms throwing themselves around his shoulders, a head tucking itself into the crook of his neck, and a warm body trying to melt itself into his as Tommy's delighted chuckles reached his ears.

Nikki knew how fucking stiff he got, he could feel his body go completely rigid and his pulse quicken as his instincts told him to duck and run from this overwhelmingly affectionate display, even though there was an itch in the back of his brain telling him to stay.

This wasn't right, no one touched him like this, no one held him this tightly, like he was something worth holding, not ever in his life and if he doesn't get the fuck out of here he's gonna start crying like a little bitch and NO-

Before he could register his own actions in his brain, Nikki was pushing Tommy off of him and patting his shoulder and retreating. Mumbling out some vague excuse and retreating back to his room, back to his fucking hideout.

Nikki plopped himself on the floor in the corner of his room with an absolute groan as the door slammed behind him. That was humiliating, and he knew Tommy has to be beyond fucking confused right now. Who the fuck runs from genuine displays of honest affection? Nikki fucking Sixx, that's who.

Nikki had wanted nothing more than to stay in Tommy's arms, well, forever honestly. But his body wouldn't allow that, even if his mind was pleading with him to soak in this affection while it lasted.

Tommy was a good kid, someone who was honest with his emotions, and loved with his whole heart. He wouldn't hurt Nikki like he had been hurt in the past.

Right?

Nikki jumped at the sound of light knocking on his door. The sound felt cautious, careful, two things the Tommy never is, and that just made Nikki feel worse.

He didn't want to… dampen this kid. He didn't want his gloom to overtake Tommy's sun, he didnt want to ruin Tommy's open vulnerability and honesty with his emotions because it was so fucking endearing to Nikki. It was something he never was, and he didn't think he could ever be.

"Sixx? I'm coming in."

Nikki wasn't surprised at that, his silence probably had done nothing to console Tommy's worry that was clear in his voice, but what the fuck was he supposed to say?

"Sorry, kid, if you wanna hug someone go find Vinnie and hope he doesn't knock you the fuck out, because I'm too emotionally unavailable to help you with that shit?"

He couldn't say that, because that implies he didn't want the affection.  And he did, honestly he did. All he could do was tell the truth, and that didn't sound like a great option either.

But as he brought his eyes up from their fixed spot on the filthy carpet to look up at Tommy through his dark bangs, who was now sitting on the ground across from him, the brown eyes he saw didn't look angry, they looked softened with a sense of knowing.

Goddammit, T-bone.

"Sorry, Tom.", was all that Nikki could force out in the moment.

And Tommy was just smiling this soft smile at him, accompanied by the cutest little curious head tilt.

"Its okay, Nik- just…. Why don't you like hugs, man? Everyone likes hugs. I fucking love hugs, I mean it's okay, trust me, I guess I just wanna know why-"

Nikki cut him off, because everything he just said was wrong and he couldn't help himself.

"I don't not like them, dude. I haven't been hugged in years- at least 10 fucking years. At least. So I don't know, it just took me by surprise I guess."

Tommy's eyes were wide and his jaw had actually dropped, his mouth forming a perfect o shape, and it would have been fucking comical if Nikki didnt feel so damn vulnerable over this whole situation, especially after the information he just let slip out, fuck.

Tommy didn't say anything for a few moments and when Nikki's eyes caught his for a moment after darting around the room, desperately trying to find something else to look at, he swore he saw shiny tears in them, but that can't be right.

After a few more beats of silence, Nikki saw Tommy moving out of the corner of his eye, and upon looking up, his insides turned to liquid when he saw Tommy sitting there with his arms open, waiting for Nikki to fall into them as if he belonged there.

Nikki was just staring at him at this point, nerves itching to go throw himself at the younger boy, but something was holding him back.

"Come here, Nikki, it's okay."

And, okay, maybe it was okay. Maybe.

Nikki cautiously scooted himself closer, even to himself he seemed like a scared puppy, inching himself closer to a human with the terrifying hope of just a little bit of love.

When he cautiously put his arms around Tommy's back and rested his chin on Tommy's shoulder, he could feel Tommy's grin as his arms burst into action scooping him up, spinning him around, and throwing them back until they were a tangled mess of limbs on the dirty floor.

Nikki couldn't help but think he should be panicking, but Tommy was laughing and the sound was just so beautiful Nikki found himself laughing too as he flipped himself on top of Tommy,  the two of them wrestling around on top of dirty clothes and cigarette packages until they were both out of breath and a loud banging was heard from the room next door. 

"I'm still sleeping, you fucking pricks, can you quit fucking, or whatever the fuck you're doing in there?"

Vinnie's exasperated voice just made the boys laugh harder as Nikki settled comfortably down with his head on Tommy's shoulder and his arm across the drummer's stomach. He felt Tommy's fingers tracing patterns on his back and he smiled, even as his mind came to the realization that this was a step above hugging, they were fucking cuddling.

Nikki couldn't help but wonder how normal it was to want to stay in your straight, male best friends arm's forever.

But that was a problem for another day.

A/N: fun fact, this was supposed to be less than 1000 words. It's not possible.

[thewhumperinwhite]

WKW: To Bid You All Welcome (Part 1)

@faewhump @luminouswhump

TW for: implied future public humiliation, discussion of minor character death, references to amputation.

Set up and Sad Brother Feelings bc next part is gonna be...…. spicy, y’all.

----

They crop Asher’s hair short, too. 

That— hurts Andry, almost more than his own, all the more so because Asher takes it so much in stride. He raises his chin to look Andry in the eyes and tells him seriously that it will be easier to take care of, since he has not been permitted a hairbrush. He speaks similarly of limited rations he is given: if he is not allowed to go outside, he hardly needs three hearty meals to carry him through the days; they go faster when he sleeps more, as he does when he’s hungry.

That one Andry knows is a lie—no one sleeps better hungry—but Andry does not waste their single allotted hour together trying to weaken Asher’s stiff upper lip. Asher waits for Andry in the small, mostly-emptied guest quarters he’s been given with his head held high, and when Andry pulls him into a bone-crushing hug he grumbles as though he doesn’t want it at the same time that his narrow hands make tight fists on the back of Andry’s shift.

“You look terrible,” Asher tells him when Andry sits beside him on the narrow bed. He looks down at the iron manacle that covers Andry’s wrist stump, curious in much the same way Thorne had been. Andry has a bizarre urge to hide his arm behind his back— as though he’s happy to strip down in front of an enemy soldier but squirms under his own brother’s eyes on his injury. He forces himself to stay still and let Asher look his fill.

“Can you still feel it?” Asher asks in a voice halfway between troubled and awed. “Guard-Captain Petry says that sometimes people can still feel bits that’ve been cut off. They still itch, and that.”

“Captain Petry says haggis comes from a whistling animal called ‘the wild haggis,’” Andry says lightly, hoping to earn a smile. “It doesn’t feel like anything.”

That is a lie of his own. While he feels no phantom of his missing hand, the iron of the manacle itself itches and burns against his skin, enough to wake him sweat-drenched from the few hours of sleep he’s snatched since everything ended, tumbling breathless out of a dream where he has stuck his arm into a wasp’s nest. The last of the House’s magic burning out of him, presumably. He tries not to think about it too much.

“Did they kill him too?” Asher asks him calmly.

Andry comes back to the present moment with a crash. “Kill who?” he croaks, his throat dry.

“Captain Petry.” Asher looks back up at Andry, his face serious. “He must’ve fought the soldiers when they came. Did they kill him?” 

Andry stares at Asher. The truth is, he’s been told Crane has closed most of the house guards in the holding pen underneath the barracks, in the hope that some of them will be willing to trade service for freedom. He has no idea how to say any of that to Asher. In a way it’s worse than knowing the guard captain is dead.

“You can tell me the truth, Andry,” Asher says. “I already know they killed Father.”

Andry just about swallows his tongue, and of course that is when someone knocks loudly on the door, and Thorne barges into the guest room with a redundant, “Knock knock, little Princes!” in a sing-song voice.

“Our hour isn’t up,” Andry snaps, and catches himself in just barely enough time to tack on a “sir” that sounds even halfway sincere. Thorne grins his sharp-toothed grin at him.

“Indeed not,” Thorne says, and he tosses two bundles of cloth at Andry and Asher. “You can use your last fifteen minutes to get changed!”

Andry misses his bundle. He has still not mastered how to compensate for his missing hand. He watches the cloth land on his lap, and doesn’t hear the next words Thorne says because he is thinking of the balcony, of bloody gold hair slipping through his fingers.

“--sence,” Thorne is saying with a wide smirk. “I’m escorting you there in half an hour, and you’re to be pristine and well-attired by then.”

“Both of us?” Asher says in alarm. Andry sits up very straight. “What kind of banquet?” Andry watches Thorne’s answer, heart thudding.

“It’s a welcome, to all the nobles who have pledged their fealty to the White King of Colomur,” Thorne says, apparently liking the way the words feel in his mouth. “There’s quite a few of them, you’ll find.”

Asher stares at him, almost hurt at the thought that the nobility of Craetalia would turn against the house of Fourshield so readily. Andry isn’t particularly surprised; half the nobles will be grateful for any change of leadership that might provide opportunities to secure favor with a new ruler; of those that remain, half resent his father’s bull-headed treatment of foreign nations and the other half don’t care who is King as long as he leaves them to bugger their servants in peace. That’s hardly the problem. Andry stands, holding the clothing he has been given in loose fists, and bows to Thorne respectfully.

“Please, sir,” he says towards the floor. “Asher has not spent much time among the Court. Surely he can add little to such an event beyond the risk of offence.”

Thorne leans in the doorway, looking at Andry with frank amusement. “I’m sure that’s true,” he says. “I imagine he’s there to keep you in line, Your Worship.”

Andry looks up at Thorne through his lashes without raising his head. “Have I stepped out of line thus far, my lord?” he says softly. 

Asher makes a very quiet noise of distress beside him. Andry tries to pretend he has not heard it.

Thorne laughs, shaking his head, and begins shutting the door. “No you haven’t, which is why I’m letting you change unsupervised. I’m escorting you both down in ten minutes, regardless of how dressed you are, so you’d better get started.”

Andry watches the door swing shut, and allows himself a moment to hate Thorne with his entire being. By the time he turns to Asher, his face is under better control. “Go on, we’d better change quickly. I’ll help you with the laces.”

Asher is staring at him, his eyes wide. Andry looks away quickly, and shakes out the garment he’s been given. He feels himself blanch, looking at the white silk.

“You can’t wear that,” Asher says in a stricken, horrified voice. “You can— you can bow your head to that murderer if you want to, but you can’t— “

“Don’t,” Andry says, and Asher pulls up short. Andry doesn’t see the look on his face, because he cannot look at him. “Don’t, Asher. I can’t— “ He closes his eyes, forces himself to breathe out. “I am going to keep you— us— alive. That is the choice I am going to make. If I cannot keep both my pride and our lives, I will give up my pride first.” He opens his eyes, breathes, makes himself look at Asher. Asher’s eyes are swimming with tears. “I am going to give it up because we will both die otherwise. Do you understand?”

Asher, so quietly Andry can barely hear the words, says, “You shouldn’t have to.”

Andry takes another breath, and begins to unlace his shift. “We don’t have any ‘shouldn’ts’ left,” he says.

[hiuythn]

sorry to ask, but i saw u shared hc for the sick anon, im going thru a rough patch and ur fic rly cheered me up. Can i get some hcs as well?

this is how keith asks lance to marry him:

so we all know how from the beginning, from the moment things got resolved at the end of tnahp, that keith’s been upfront about never leaving lance. everyone knows he’s going to put a ring on that. he’s said it to lance’s face. “what else am i gonna do with you?”

it’s not until six years later that he actually does anything though. mostly bc of the war and the aftermath.

the team are in a meeting with the coalition, boring stuff, routine stuff, and the mind link is closed, bc sometimes keith and lance need breaks. he’s lucky that it was, though, because what happens next in his mind would’ve been enough to make lance fall out of his seat and ruin the meeting and coran would’ve killed them both lmao

lance is paying attention even though he looks just as bored as keith. diligent, as always. he’s even got a holoscreen projected, taking lazy notes. there are faint little sketches of the coalition members and the team. one is of shiro, snoring, comical Zs above his head. keith bites down on his cheek.

lance is twirling the pen in his left hand.

keith looks at that and thinks, loud and clear, there should be a ring on his finger.

he sits back.

huh.

it should be a surprise, he decides after a quiet minute. lance deserves that. it should be at the right moment, the right words, the right place. it should be soft and genuine and such a sweet shock that it takes lance seconds to reply. it should make his blue eyes fill with tears, it should make him curl into a ball before keith, who’ll still be kneeling, ring box open and laughing at him because wow, that’s nice reaction, lance. it should be a proposal so perfect that it makes lance kind of mad, makes him shove keith, makes him pout that frustrated-loving-happy pout.

(bros, as a gay, this is kind of really fucking gay)

keith spends the rest of the meeting laying out proposal plans. lance gets exasperated when he finds out keith remembers nothing of the meeting. “dude, you--tell me again, who’s the leader of voltron, here?” “it’s allura.” “....okay, but who flies bl--”

and some people might ask, what’s the point, if you’re already levertan-married? if you’ve mind-linked and basically achieved the pinnacle of ‘joining hands in holy matrimony’?

keith’s answer would probably be something like ‘fuck off, i love him that’s why’

(ngl that’s hella romantic. no? just me?)

the long answer is that he knows lance is a romantic. that he really likes gestures of affection, that his face gets all rosy and he always tries to bite back his smiles, and he gets so pleased and flustered and also adorably angry every time keith does anything for him. keith’s in love with that. he goes absolutely dumb over making lance happy, he’s fucking obsessed with it. every neuron in keith’s stupid head is devoted to lance like 24/7.

(it’s a given that lance is the same, if not worse. how tf do they get anything done?)

plus, levertan-married doesn’t really mean the same as human-married.

so keith--somehow--manages to pull off thinking up proposal plans without closing the link, without lance knowing--maybe bc his thoughts are purposefully fragmented like ‘white chocolate? milk?’ or ‘speakers? mic?’ or ‘beach sand feels sandy’ and yes it sounds absolutely dumb but it’s clever because after a while lance tunes it out. though, at the beginning, it really fucking worried him because it sounded like keith was having a stroke LMAO

over the next couple months, keith steadily puts his plan together: get the ring, figure out what to say, speak to allura about detouring to earth for some r&r, speak to shiro about not fucking things up for keith because i know you’ll do that somehow shiro no are you serious of course you would you’re evil do you even remember that time i said no to inviting people for my fourteenth birthday and you did it anyway even though i was looking forward to just playing video games for the whole day??? i had to deal with james griffin in my goddamn house you ass--

the day keith asks, everything--surprisingly--goes really well? like suspiciously so. like keith’s really glad but he’s itching to reach for his knife by the end of it, bc he was prepared for shiro to have done sth by now. 

but nah, keith and lance have a lovely day hanging out, doing activities keith planned and things lance spontaneously suggests. the weather is a perfect breezy, sunny day. when the sun sets they wordlessly head for the beach. lance chases keith though the surf. they throw clumps of wet sand at each other. keith hoists lance in his arms, listening to him yell as keith spins them around. lance picks him up and tosses him into the shallows, that fucking jerk. lance gets keith to forgive him. lance gives keith his shirt, goes half-naked for keith’s shivering form. ‘i’m going to get a cold,’ lance says. ‘and i’m not?’ keith snorts. they walk down the beach and lance tells him stories, pointing to this rock or that spot and saying oh i broke my arm there or dude i saved a baby turtle from a seagull that day and keith soaks it all up like he’s the sand and lance is the ocean waves, coming back to him every time.

lance hops onto a rock, demonstrating to keith how he used to pretend he was a sea prince looking for mermaids. the winds play with his hair, the setting sun brushing golden against his bare chest and the grin on his lips. like this, he’s a foot or two taller than keith.

keith gets down on one knee.

it’s lance’s fault that the ring box is damp, but he’s lucky this thing is olkari-made, because when keith opens it up, the ring shines just as bright as lance. almost as bright. it tries its best but keith really only has eyes for his soulmate.

keith says:

every day, i want to choose you. every day, i want to get to choose you. every day, growing up like i did, was spent learning what i needed to live, what food or drink or mantra was needed to make it another day alone. my body forced to me to focus on its needs, on the bare essentials. if i went a month without a caring touch, it didn’t matter, because it hadn’t killed me yet.

before i fell for you, i don’t think i knew what it meant to want. i never had a chance to think about it, a second to indulge. if i wanted a home, a family, it was a weakness, a distraction, and i couldn’t let myself admit it. so i never learned to want.

the only other thing that comes closest to what i feel for you is probably flying. it’s that addiction to diving through the clouds, it’s free-falling, it’s soaring with my heart in my throat. and even then, even now that i know you, it doesn’t quite compare. it’s a poor substitute.

in this world we exist in, where some force out there knows exactly what we need, who we need, it’s kind of a miracle that i still got to choose you. i’m glad i got the moments where it hurt to think of you, because i wanted you so bad i couldn’t stand not having you. i’m glad i got to slowly realize that you were everything to me, on my own time. it was my own conclusion, my own resolution to love you because you were you, and not because you were someone i was supposed to love. the universe kind of tricked us, but i think she meant well.

and now i know, that even in a world where soulmates didn’t exist....i know i’d still want you.

i want to want you, every day. i want to wake up wanting you, every day, fall asleep wanting you every night. i want to leave for missions wanting you, want to stay behind watching you go, wanting you to return faster than you can. i want you to want me, too. i want a ring on our fingers, reminding me that you do, that you feel the same and you always will.

i want to marry you, lance mcclain.

will you marry me?

[daybreakrising]

@crackuzu​ asked: five times kissed // we haven't actually done anything yet but our zombois pls and thank from this meme

Under a cut bc these will all get long.

You get six bc I couldn’t decide which pov to write them from so each zomboi gets three. you almost got ten tbh but I restrained myself

ONE

It was an itch under his skin, a frustrating niggle that wouldn't go away. It had been over a week since their last opportunity to let off some steam and shed a little blood. A week! A week of endless, pointless travel, for a cause he didn't even care about.

Frustrating.

He was craving a good fight, something to get his blood pumping, anything to settle that craving he couldn't shake. Violence was his lifeblood. He was starving without it. All he asked for was a little bit of chaos, something to take the edge off, but so far, he was being denied.

Hidan eyed the broad shoulders of the man stalking ahead of him, face currently buried in a map. He still didn't really know what to make of his partner. He was, by all appearances, possibly the most antisocial man he'd ever known. His only redeeming factor, in his opinion, was his own taste for violence.

A sly smile spread across Hidan's face.

If he couldn't seek out violence elsewhere, he'd just have to seek it here. Kakuzu had a short and violent temper. He'd already poked and prodded at it a few times, but it never seemed to go further than a brief altercation – and that wasn't going to be enough. He needed to do something to really piss him off.

He moved fast, knowing he had a limited window before he was sussed out. He appeared directly in front of the other man, fisted a hand in the collar of his cloak, and dragged him in. His lips met the fabric of Kakuzu's mask for a fleeting second before he was flung backwards, his back hitting a nearby tree hard enough to shake loose a whole heap of leaves and dead branches.

Hidan grinned, rubbing a hand to the ache in his jaw where a fist had struck it. It hurt like a bitch, but it was worth the fury in the other man's eyes. Maybe now the bastard would fight him.

TWO

When he wasn't whining or prattling on about his god, Hidan wasn't so bad, really.

Either that or he was finally going mad after his many long years of life. That was also a possibility. Sure, he got under his skin from time to time and he had definitely considered all the ways he would like to kill him – he was starting to get creative with ideas, too – but… he had his pros to combat some of the cons. Some.

He didn't probe him with questions he didn't want to answer, but he listened when he did reveal even the faintest personal information. He filled silences without pressuring him for a response – mostly – and did, upon occasion, have interesting things to say. He had a sense of humour, which, albeit a little more morbid, aligned with his own.

And, possibly the most important of them all, they were a team.

That had been forced on them, of course, but that was irrelevant. Pushing two people together didn't automatically mean they would work, and they worked. For all their bickering and bitching, they were a flawless team. It had been a long time since Kakuzu could rely on someone quite like he relied on Hidan. That meant something to him.

Damnit. He might as well admit it. He didn't hate Hidan.

He stopped dead, cutting off Hidan's idle rambling about who-knows-what as the other man promptly walked straight into his back. In the midst of the bitching that immediately ensued, Kakuzu turned, grasped Hidan by the chin, and silenced him with a kiss. It was brief, distinctly not traditionally romantic, and possibly quite awkward.

"Shut up, Hidan."

THREE

The blood was like iron in his mouth, in his nose, the stench of it drenching the air around him in a way that couldn't be matched away from the slaughter of a battlefield. His fingers trembled as his skin returned to its regular colour, the curse markings fading as the last of the life drained from his unsuspecting victim.

Oh, and it felt good.

Violet eyes searched the rubble and ruin around him, bodies littered in all directions, the aftermath of their rampage a beautiful sight to behold. At last, he found him, rising over the slumped form of the target they had come for. No doubt, Hidan mused, checking he was in a suitable condition for the exchange. Him and his bloody money.

He watched Kakuzu nod to himself, swiping a hand through the loose strands of hair that had fallen free from his head covering during the battle. The mask hung open, revealing the dark line of stitching that split his face in two. Just looking at it, Hidan could feel the raised threads beneath his fingertips, the ridged edges where they met skin.

It was a curious thing, the way his fingers itched to touch every time he saw them.

Riding on the high of battle, he crossed the distance between them, teeth flashing in a grin as he stepped over the corpse and into Kakuzu's eyeline. Blood streaked the other man's face, a single spray of crimson. His heavy breaths matched Hidan's, the fire in those curious eyes mirrored in his own. This, Hidan knew, was as much a high for Kakuzu as it was for him.

Their gazes met – one beat, two.

Their lips met next, and Kakuzu tasted blood.

FOUR

Hidan was being particularly annoying today.

If he'd stopped talking at all since that morning, it had only been to eat, and even then, that didn't stop him for long. He really had no manners when he chose. To make matters worse, he had even adopted that really irritating whine that he knew drove him mad. Which, of course, is why he did it. Kakuzu wasn't stupid. He knew Hidan was trying to get under his skin.

Annoyingly, it was working.

Not for the first time, he cursed his own foolish self for being weak enough to feel for the idiot. It would be far less complicated if he could still honestly say he despised the little shit and didn't care what happened to him. Although if he kept this up, he might change his mind after all.

It took about another hour before he reached his breaking point.

A hand closed around Hidan's throat, the not-quite-flat rock of the valley wall providing a perfect surface upon which to slam him. He hoped there were some particularly pointy edges at his back. His eyes narrowed as Hidan flashed a wicked grin, a silver brow quirking suggestively only moments before a hand pulled him flush to the leaner figure, and a quick finger hooked the mask down from his face.

Sneaky bastard.

Hidan had barely enough time to whisper out a "Gotcha" before lips closed over his own in a bruising kiss.

FIVE

It was cold, dank and dark.

He had long ago stopped smelling the moist earth, the rot, stopped feeling the tickle of insects crawling over his skin. He couldn't even feel the pain any longer, which was a blessing in itself. In its place was… nothing. Just endless nothing. Endless darkness. Endless silence.

That, in itself, was agony, like a searing light behind closed lids, burning, burning, b-

Light.

An eye cracked open, blinded at once by the shafts of daylight streaming down from above. It hurt after so long in the dark, but for once his pain was wonderful. Pain meant he was alive, still alive, still able to feel. But how-

As his eye adjusted to the light, shapes and colours became distinct from one another. He saw chunks of earth rising, revealing more and more light. It took longer to access the finer details, to see the threads curled around each piece of his earthen prison. Kakuzu.

If his mouth weren't full of earth, he would have laughed. Of course. Of course he'd find him. Was it possible to feel your heart constrict – race – when it wasn't attached to your brain? He closed his eye, basked in the heat of the sun he could feel once again, and waited to be saved.

He felt the brush of threads against his cheek, felt a breeze ripple through his tangled hair. He felt the grass against his skin, felt the familiar sting of the stitches working their way through his flesh. Though his mouth was clear, there were no complaints this time. He would never complain about pain again. Well… maybe.

Fingertips brushed against his cheek, framed his face. Hair tickled against his forehead and, even before he opened his eyes, he could see the face above his own. That darker skin, so contrasting against his, those curiously coloured eyes he had always found fascinating, the raised black threads across the cheeks… Kakuzu. Lips pressed to his own and Hidan felt life surge through him, warming his cold, cold body. He was saved. Kakuzu had come back for him.

Something shifted by his ear, and he stirred with a jolt.

A single eye opened.

It was cold, dank and dark.

And he was alone.

Alone.

SIX

"Oi, Kakuzu…"

A page turned.

"What are you reading?"

He didn't lift his gaze from the page, didn't even falter in his reading. In his head, he counted down from five, and made it to three before a weight leaned on his shoulder and a face appeared in his periphery.

"A book." He muttered, doing his best to ignore what was almost certainly a pout on the idiot's face. "You should try it sometime. You might learn something."

Kakuzu didn't have much experience with cats, but he knew enough to correctly liken Hidan to one – particularly when the zealot deliberately nudged beneath his arm and slid defiantly into his lap, disrupting his vision of the book and, therefore, forcing him to finally pay attention to his partner.

"You're annoying, you're aware?" Hidan merely gave him a shit-eating grin, hands coming to rest on his shoulders. With a roll of the eyes that was almost fond, Kakuzu marked his page and set the book aside. "If I pay attention to you for the next five minutes, can I get back to my book in peace?"

"I don't know." Hidan shrugged. "You'll have to find out, hm?" There was a barely audible murmur of 'idiot' in a tone that was definitely affectionate. Because he knew the little shit would gloat if given the chance, Kakuzu opted to keep him silent in the only way that worked.

-

It was just a discarded page, torn at the edges and trapped in a bush, angrily fluttering in the wind as it clung on for its life. He didn't quite know what had made him think of that moment in particular. Perhaps it was the smear of dried blood, like rust upon the parchment, that had made him think of Hidan. Perhaps it was his freshly awakened mind searching for some familiarity to hold onto, unearthing a memory at random.

Or, perhaps, it was simply because Hidan was the first thing on his mind.

He wasn't with them. He'd noticed because he had looked, because he had searched for the partner who had always been at his side from the day they met. It had been his first thought, even before he acknowledged that he had, apparently, been resurrected from the dead. Where is Hidan?

The wind finally won the battle, the page tearing in two, the separate pieces whisked away in different directions. Kakuzu had never put much stock in symbolism, but even he couldn't deny there might have been something in that.

He smiled. He might have been killed by those brats, but Hidan… Hidan was alive.

And now, so was he.

[asillydreamer-on-a-crazyworld]

I think it was a setup and the practicing and I’m gonna teach you was for this moment, everyone’s freaking out but I’m like bring on S3 lmao

LOL WORD!

Same here, anon.Same here. I’m not worried whatsoever for next season or even Brio.

 I think that since the beginning they were not meant to be a functional, healthy ship. And honestly? I don’t care that they are like that. Sue me. It’s good to have some dark tastes too when it comes to ships.

We learned yesterday that he actually just taught her how to shoot, probably LOL. And I understand Rio bc like I was talking about it with some friends here, the guy recognized parts of himself in Beth. They were so much alike. Rio knew Beth was a smart person, that she had it in her to be a king someday, and I believe that was why even with the “I’m giving u the keys to the king” thing he actually didn’t intend to give her shit.

 Not this kind of power or control. Rio knew Beth had the potential to become a boss bitch. He said it himself. He warned her that if she wanted to be the king she HAD to kill the king. And we saw a few times in season one, that she wanted to be. The show gave us all the hints: from how she organized that “book club” in her house, to how she lied to  Ruby and Annie when she said she went back to Canada and told that guy I forgot the name that Detroit was theirs, in episode 10, I think?

But Beth was still learning, still afraid of this dark side of hers, and fighting against it because she wanted to be a “good person”. But Rio showed her she was not 100% good. And so, I think Rio didn’t want to risk giving Beth any proper training at how to be a successful boss bitch bc one day she could bring him down.

She would be good competition if she embraced that dark side of hers. So he just kept playing the game, not letting her turn into a queen piece or a king, just being the pawn there.

And yeah, I do think, looking back at the season, that he used her to get rid of the FBI. Or at least use her in a way that would take the focus off him and on someone else while he tried to come up with something to be done with Turner and the FBI for good.

We all debated to the point of exhaustion about how Rio could have killed Boomer himself and his guys, right? And some of us believed he didn’t want to get his hands dirty and that the feds would quickly trace the murder back to him, and some said he needed to give Beth a lesson, bc of what he said to his son “clean up ur own mess”. I think both are true. He forced Beth to kill Boomer bc he didn’t want to get his hands dirty and avoid the FBI linking another murder to him and he also liked the idea of making her do it bc maybe in his fucked up head, shooting her hubby wasn’t payment enough for getting him in jail. 

back then I agreed that Beth had to take responsibility for Boomer’s mess and I still stand to it, since what she and the girls did only made it worse, but Rio and his guys knew who Boomer was. The idiot was getting paid to keep his mouth shut.

Another murder in Rio’s account wouldn’t have made his record worse. Also, he is doing this for quite some time now, Sure he didn’t have a way to make it look like it wasn’t him? But ok, maybe it was too risky with the heat he was feeling from the feds.

But here I wanna u to notice something: Rio started to push Beth harder here.

Following her around to the point it got creepy. And I’m guilty here bc Like many others I was all like “lol Rio is so fucked up. this guy is really into this weird game with her right?” but honestly, that was the first sign that Rio was not that stable.

Then, we had the Brio sex in the bathroom after she said she was out, and don’t tell me that for Rio was more bc I think for both it was like an itch they needed to scratch or the tension would be too much. But again, Rio forced his hand in his game when he came back again, this time at Boland Motors, to “propose” a partnership to her. Like she rly had any choice, right? RIO WAS THE ONE WHO CAME BACK. NOT BETH.

and she accepted. Then, came the “stay in ur little lane” comment and we were all like “wow, Rio. ok, we get it, maybe he is trying to protect her bc she can mess things up and they both will pay”.

yeah. This is right, but he was also protecting himself here, bc it was a huge investment he was making. Like Manny Montana said, at the end of the day, it’s all about Money. And she found out he did something behind her back even when he said they were partners and yeah his motives might be good for him but WHAT ABOUT HER? After all, he said they were partners and partners don’t hide things from each other. And like Beth said in the car with the girls, if something wrong happened, she was the one going to jail. HA. isn’t that what almost happened? Can you really say Beth was wrong here?

And Rio did nothing to help her with it. Which, ok, fair, she did it to him first. Like he threw at her face in a not very subtle way with his comment in the car back in episode 12.

But again, that was her checkmate to him when he took her out. So again, more proof of how these two are not that sane with this dangerous power play between them.

Next: the body parts he sent her. I agree with a comment Heather made on TT that this was the first sign that Brio would go downhill. Many of us didn’t even care that much and again, GUILTY UR HONOR. That was fucked up but EVERYONE EXCUSED A GUY SENDING A WOMAN BODY PARTS BC HEY, HE IS A CRIMINAL. But WHAT IS WRONG WITH US HERE, DRAGGING A WOMAN DOWN- NO MATTER IF SHE IS WHITE, LIKE HOLY SHIT THIS IS SOME FUCKED UP THING TO DO, SHUT UP- BECAUSE SHE WAS SALTY TO HIM AFTER GOING BACK AND SAYING THAT YEAH, SHE BLOCKED HIS NUMBER AND WANTED OUT? YEAH, IT WAS KILLING HER BUT HE DIDN’T EVEN GIVE HER A CHOICE AGAIN.

I think that if Rio waited just a bit more, she would go back by herself. She was dying to go back to the crime world. And she would eventually, but probably not with him as a boss, but Rio just liked to have her around so much…She entertained him.

But notice… AGAIN SHE DIDN’T LOOK FOR HIM. HE FORCED HER TO GO BACK USING SOMEONE ELSE’S BODY.

AND FINALLY:

Kidnapping her and trying again to force her to shoot Turner this time, bc yeah, I agree with Rio, I don’t believe Turner would leave Beth be, bc his reputation was ruined. He would lose the case he spent so many years, probably, working on.

now one question: He succeeded in kidnapping Turner and hurt him. Why did take him so long to do this?

Why didn’t he kill Turner sooner?

 Again, I think he was waiting for the best moment to do it. Maybe, just like he didn’t want to get his hands dirty with Boomer, he didn’t wanna the same with Turner. Good thing he had Beth there with him now, in the game.Right?

again, he was RIGHT. The man wouldn’t stop chasing her or him by default.

was this his “grand gesture”? in his fucked up mind I think it was. Manny himself said here that Rio is, and I quote: “ a dude that has a screw loose.”.

but I believe he was reaching his breaking point, acting on survival mode. He took his things out of the loft. He kidnapped Beth when I believe if he just called her, she would meet him there ( writers, EXPLAIN THIS!). 

but ok, it was done. But the way he kept pushing her, started to scream at her to just shoot Turner, calling her bitch, advancing on her? He lost it. And so did she. The pressure was building between them since episode 11, I think, and it finally exploded. 

She did what he wanted her to do in S1 but she wasn’t ready yet and I don’t think she was in 2x13. It was just a thing of the moment, not something she planned. She just acted on instinct, survival instinct, just like Rio did I believe, with his actions. U can see on his face he was surprised.

And then he laughed at Turner when he was laying on the floor, bleeding.

Rio set up the grand finale to his game with Turner, even getting that camera on his place to again mess with Beth and honestly, this was all fucked up since the beginning.

he always bet high on his moves in this thing with Beth. They both don’t know much about the other and people can surprise u in bad and good ways.

 I honestly don’t think Rio will be furious with her, not long.  The woman actually had the balls to shoot him, a crimelord, well know in Detroit streets, and she just got three bullets in his chest.

I think he can kind of respect that. But of course, it will be hell for Beth to pay, bc the king will get his crown back. 

Beth is not ready to rule yet anyway. I think we’ll see that in season 3 but one thing I liked that the show let us know: Beth embraced this other side of her bc yeah, she is gonna be a mom still but she will also try to run her own criminal enterprise. She finally believes she can do this. Rio was a daddy and he could right? And I believe she will start with something small, obviously.

However she will struggle, and I wonder if word won’t get out that a mom, a Stepford wife, shoot the great Rio and almost killed him.

I wonder what she is gonna do when she finds out Turner saved Rio’ life in a way, bc I believe he did call 911.

I don’t trust Turner or his apparent truce with Beth.

I do believe Season 3 has a lot of potential. And I can’t wait to see how Beth and Rio will fight over their territory and how these two alphas will find common ground again. I agree that in season 1 Beth was the one who went to Rio and asked to be part of this world he lives in. 

 And I’m not saying she didn’t like it bc she did. but I think season 2 was her really struggling with what she wanted and how she wanted, and Rio didn’t give her any space to breathe bc he kept pushing her to just decide and get done with it.

Manny said Rio liked the girls and especially Beth around and that they made things more interesting. I think he knows his character enjoyed this cat and mouse game he had going on, but even when Rio felt something for beth money, again, was at the forefront of his mind. And with what Manny said about Rio, trying to find a way to understand this man mind takes way more than we thought. Let’s see where we go down from here.