#so avoiding the cops seems like the more logical move

[independent-fics]

I know people often interpret Eliot’s unwillingness to fight cops as pro cop (which maybe it is) but on my interpretation I just take it as him not wanting the hassle. Like cops have power and their job is to remember faces and pursue criminals. Like Eliot probably knows it’s more logical to just avoid the hassle altogether.

[cakerybakery]

If you’re still accepting adamsapple writing suggestions: Adam is pregnant with Lucifer’s baby, and his father-of-humanity paternal instincts are telling him to build a stash of food and skins before the child arrives.

I am! Hope this works for you

Lucifer searched high and low for his work gloves. He didn’t need them, really. It wasn’t like his tools could do any real harm if his hand slipped. It just hurt and he would bleed, and then he had to clean that up. The leather gloves were useful.

After half an hour, he gave up. Lucifer went back to his workshop and went to grab his work apron.

It was gone.

It had just been here.

He sighed and sat down. He would just get shavings on his clothing and be careful while he painted. Lucifer told himself it didn’t matter. It wasn’t like he couldn’t snap his fingers and fix his clothing. Lucifer set to work.

A few days later he searched the whole kitchen for the peanut butter. They just bought some! Lucifer remembered it distinctly. Adam insisted on buying a couple of the large jars. Honey too.

Actually Adam had insisted they needed to stock up a lot of shelf stable foods.

Never in his existence had Lucifer purchased canned fruit and fruit cups. But Adam had been so certain he needed it that Lucifer stopped arguing. He helped Adam fill up two carts of things like granola bars, different nut butters, crackers, preserved fruit and pickled items. The idea of eating a pickled egg turned Lucifer’s stomach but Adam said he wanted to eat them all, right there in the store.

He waited until the car.

But now the cupboard looked bare of anything they bought. There should be a hundred jars of pickled carrots, asparagus, beets, tiny ass onions, and eggs. Where are all the cans of tuna? The canned chicken and ham? They had bought out the beef jerky, but it was gone.

Lucifer grabbed a banana from the fruit bowl. At least they still had that. Maybe Adam put the food in the cellar? He’d have to remember to ask later.

Adam was constantly rearranging things lately. Perhaps he moved them.

He tossed the banana skin and headed to the den to watch some tv. Lucifer rarely watched TV anymore.

For a few years after Lilith left he became one with his couch. When he finally pried himself up one day, Charlie had moved out. Who knows for how long. He avoided it these days, too many bad associations of that dark time.

But there were special occasions where he watched TV. Like when Charlie’s new ad was going to air.

He crossed the den to turn on the tv, his boots clacking on the hardwood floor, when he paused. He stepped again.

Clack.

Again.

Clack.

That wasn’t right.

Lucifer looked down and did a little turn in disbelief. Where the fuck was that bear skin rug? Adam had gifted it to him.

He had killed the bear himself and gifted the hide to Lucifer. It still took Lucifer a month to realize the mountain of bear meat Adam had gifting to Charlie and him was how Adam flirted.

Adam was proving he could care for Lucifer and Charlie. It was funny, no matter how advanced the world gets, Adam still held onto so many of his instincts.

Lucifer thought about calling the cops. But who would break into the king of hell’s home and steal his bear skin rug?

It was far more logical that Adam moved it. Lucifer didn’t know why. But Adam had rearranged their bedroom the week before, claiming it just needed to be changed.

Adam vacuumed and scrubbed the floors and walls of their bedroom and ensuite bathroom. The drapes had been taken down and had the dust beaten out of them. All the linens were washed. All the towels. Every nook and cranny cleaned.

Lucifer had been set to work and using magic only upset Adam, because, “that’s not clean! It needs to smell clean!”

So he did his assigned tasks by hand.

Lately, there was only one place to find Adam. He hardly left their room it seemed like. Now that it was clean and arranged how he liked. It worries Lucifer but the guy seemed content and Lucifer didn’t want to upset him by suggesting something was wrong.

He opened the door and poked his head in. Lucifer was about to ask about the rug but it was lying on the bed.

A frustrated Adam was pacing the floor and clicking furiously on his phone.

As Lucifer went in he noticed that there were now drawers under the bed. He gave that an eyebrow raise. When had that happened?

“Adam? You okay?”

“No! The cowhide I wanted is on back order! It won’t be here for another month! I don’t have a month!”

“I see you moved the rug.” Lucifer closed the door behind him and nodded at the rug on their bed.

Adam just hummed and continued to pace. A hand slipped down and rested on his belly.

Lucifer had noticed that as well. The past several months Adam touched his stomach more. Lucifer had tried to be reassuring. He liked the weight gain. Adam was looking hotter.

Adam took the compliments but still hid in loose clothing. Still put a hand to his belly like he was thinking about the weight gain. Staring off into the distance. Sometimes not allowing Lucifer to touch him.

At least he always look happy. But he was going to the doctor’s a lot. Adam refused to let him come. Got jittery about it.

Jealousy had flared up in Lucifer months ago. He’d followed Adam sure, just positive, that Adam was cheating. But he went to a doctor’s office like he said he was going to do.

Lucifer looked up the doctor. Doctor Jillian Hutters OB/GYN. He felt an immense sense of relief when he looked her up. Adam wouldn’t cheat on him with some sinner woman.

Sinners were all his descendants. Adam didn’t fuck descendants. It was nice that he was visiting his many times great grandchildren. Lucifer never questioned Adam again. Every bit of curiosity at Adam behaviour Lucifer squished down and told himself he was probably just getting jealous again over nothing and to let it go.

Lucifer followed as Adam paced nervously across the bedroom.

Suddenly Adam paused and tensed. He let out a muffled scream and panted once it was done.

“Adam? Are you okay?” Lucifer reached up to touch him when Adam whipped around.

“Get out!” Lucifer was shoved out of the room and it was slammed shut and locked behind him.

He pounded on the door for several minutes. Lucifer could teleport or open a portal or simply blow the door off its hinges but when he hard Adam cry out again doctor Hutters jumped to the front of his mind.

Pacing he called the office. If Lucifer was a less prideful man he might have been ashamed of his behaviour on the phone. Instead he welded his power as king like his dick and commanded the sinner to come to the palace.

When she arrived half an hour later she shoved her coat into Lucifer’s hands and followed the sound of Adam screaming.

By the time Lucifer got up to the bedroom the door was slammed shut in his face again.

It was only a couple minutes but he was sent for clean linens. The doctor opened the door just long enough to take them from Lucifer. Then he was sent for ice chips. He created those with a snap.

Outside the door he paced for hours as Adam’s screaming grew more intense and closer together. He wished now the walls were thinner so he could hear what the doctor was saying.

Suddenly it stopped and Lucifer was about to tear the door down to find out why it had suddenly gone silent when the door opened.

“Congratulations, dad. It’s a boy.” She stood aside and allowed the confused king to come inside.

The afternoon light filtered through the windows and on the bed Adam rested against the headboard, holding a small bundle of blankets.

Lucifer’s arms shook as he climbed onto the bed and crawled across the mattress to Adam.

He gave Lucifer a tired smile, and turned the bundle toward Lucifer. A little sleepy face peaked out. It yawned and blinked up at him.

Adam handed the boy over and Lucifer loved him.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Lucifer asked quietly, afraid of the answer.

“I was afraid of getting your hopes up and losing him. What it would do to you. I hoped. If he didn’t make it, then at least you wouldn’t have time to love him before he was buried. Like the others.”

The graveyard of Charlie’s siblings. A place just out of sight, but never far out of mind. The ones that never made it. So many were just headstones to remember that for a bit, they had hoped that this time, this time it would work.

“He’s healthy.” The doctor interrupted their dark thoughts. “I’ll alert the home care team to come and do the follow ups. I’ve written down his birth information on this card.” She handed over a blue card containing his weight and height and time of birth. “Congratulations again, your highnesses.”

She left them and saw herself out.

“You still should have told me.” Lucifer didn’t want to make Adam feel bad, he just wasn’t as fragile as Adam seemed to think. “Next time, tell me, okay?”

Adam agreed. “I’m starving. You want a snack?” He winced as he leaned over the bed, opened a drawer, and pulled out peanut butter and crackers.

“I was looking for that! Is there where the food ended up?”

“I needed it close by. For after the baby was born. So we wouldn’t have to leave the room.” Adam flushed as he settled back against the headboard to eat his food.

Lucifer scooted back with him and took a couple crackers. He hadn’t noticed in all the worrying but he was hungry. That banana didn’t last long.

They polished off the sleeve and Adam was looking ready to sleep when the doorbell rang.

Passing over the baby for Adam to cuddle, Lucifer went to the front door.

His cellphone buzzed on the floor. Lucifer figured he must have dropped it when the doctor came in and not noticed.

He picked it up and saw the numerous missed calls and texts from Charlie.

Lucifer didn’t need to hear or read the messages to guess that Charlie was probably freaked out by the lack of response. He opened the door to a few people that doctor Hutter sent, gave them directs up to the bedroom, and called Charlie.

It barely rang when Charlie picked up. “Dad! Are you okay? What happened? Why haven’t you been answering my calls?”

“Everything is fine. But you should come visit tomorrow. There’s someone I want you to meet.” Lucifer explained what happened and apologized for missing her commercial.

Charlie didn’t care. She was too excited about the baby and promised to come over tomorrow afternoon and let them rest.

Lucifer passed the nurses on the stairs and they congratulated him once more. He crawled into the bed with Adam and the baby. Both were asleep.

Pulling the blanket up and over them, Lucifer stuck a hand under his pillow to settle in for a nap as well.

He grasped something under the pillow and pulled it out.

His work gloves!

[datmoongamer]

Some thoughts about my fascist Harry playthrough so far

TL;DR Microdosed fascism, fascist Harry is more interesting than moralist Harry, this is my third playthrough so I built for int/mot and made him more confident, logical, and authoritative.

I am... having a lot of fun on my fascist playthrough, third playthrough overall. First one was moralist, second one was a hardcore communist one that I haven't finished yet.

Playing Harry as someone who believes that a strong leader could return Revachol to its former glory. How the leader would go about doing it, he's not sure, he's just a random guy trying to do some good in the world. He's also not sure who the ex-something is, but he knows she's a she, and that she burned him bad, so he's bitter about women but not stupid enough to voice his thoughts aloud. 'Sides, inceldom seems like the natural course of action for him.

Can't go through with being racist, so I microdosed fascism. Said anti-communist stuff when it seemed acceptable, preached about the glory of Revachol, but I went for the "very cool but I have some questions about the murder case" option whenever race/immigration came up and (so far) dodged all the conversations about sex/gender/women.

High int and mot. I made him calculating, able to pick up on inconsistencies in people's statements. I miss the more esoteric skills and I miss hearing Volition yap at me, but the int and mot skills make up for Volition's silence. He can think his way out of most situations that would otherwise require Volition to wrangle the phy skills.

Superstar for fun but knows when to be the boring, serious cop. The superstar thing is a mindset he adopted to avoid spiraling entirely into despair. If he jazzes himself up this hard, he doesn't feel as bad about himself.

Rene is the only bearable fascist (so far, haven't reached Lena's racism deep lore yet or met Gary and his buddy). Measurehead and the Racist Lorry Driver are just... man. They're pieces of work. Rene says things like "Revachol is a shithole... good ol' days... I fought in the war..." and I can see how someone would get like that. You can't circlejerk with a fellow moralist because you're both apolitical but with Rene you can both be like "you're so fr... make Revachol great again... you... you get it..."

On my first playthrough, I was a moralist. I was so centrist that I didn't do the political vision quest because I thought "hmm that sounds political, not touching that lol." Even if I don't agree with fascism, trying to see how parts of it are feasible and applying them to a legitimate viewpoint I/Harry can push has been much more fun than saying "hmm I don't have an opinion on this."

Not a sorry cop this time. I apologized a lot in my first playthrough because Empathy kept telling me how badly I fucked up and Harry was a brand new fuck up to me. This time, I'm leaning into the superstar and boring cop persona. When I have some leeway to joke around and someone tells me what a piece of shit I am? Haha, that was me. Own up to it. When someone brings up my suicidal, violent tendencies? Acknowledged, let's move along.

Third playthrough Harry feels much less like a spineless, albeit good-hearted loser. This Harry is jaded and takes no shit from anyone. No cooperating with Evrart, it would be unseemly for a cop to do his dirty work. An NPC starts dissing him? He pushes for the information he needs and leaves, not his business. He'll joke around on the job with Kim and the interviewees, but his goal is always to walk out with the information he needs, and he's not afraid to exert his (nearly non-existent as a skill, so he does this through the insane pile of evidence he's building and invoking the title of RCM officer) authority when he needs to.

[biohazard-inevitable]

Meditate

Part 10 of the dragon and the fox!

It had been some time since Mondatta had arrived and Zayne had done his best to avoid him at all costs, though he couldn’t help the guilt that came with his avoidance. Mondatta had been nothing but kind and open to him, and yet all Zayne could think about was the authority he held, authority that felt too similar to Sojiro for Zayne to be comfortable with. Logically, he knew Mondatta wasn’t like him, that Mondatta would never do the horrible things that Sojiro would, but still he found cowardice in his heart.

He was surprised when he awoke one morning to a small note by his bedside (if you could even call the sleeping bag they purchased at the market a bed). It had elegantly calm writing, addressed to the assassin it read:

Dear Zayne,

I am aware you seem to find me intimidating, so I am writing to you in letter format so I won’t startle you with my presence. I understand if you wish to decline this offer, but seeing as we met in a less than favorable situation, I would like to offer to meet in a more private locale. I do daily meditation at the peak above the main temple every morning if you wish to join me on your own terms.

Sincerely, Mondatta

Zayne was admittedly too nervous to take up the monk’s gentle offer the day the note appeared, though after discussing with his shadow and Shugo for a little bit, he eventually gained the courage to at least try and talk to Mondatta, reminding himself that his fears were irrational and baseless.

He began his trek at dawn, not really having slept much as anxiety gnawed at the back of his conciousness, dulling the morning chill as he made his way slowly up the mountain path until he reached a small, quiet clearing near the top, the dark indigo and lavender of night already making way for a dusky navy as the sun began to rise over the himalayan mountain range, glinting off the soft white metal of Mondatta’s body, adorning him in an almost ethereal golden glow like fire as dawn swept over the vast view below.

“You… wanted to meet with me sir?” Zayne spoke cautiously towards the omnic who’s back was turned to him, his pose relaxed and gentle as he meditated.

“Ah yes, Zayne was it?” Mondatta spoke, softly and slowly as not to startle the human anxious hovering behind him as he patted a small mat beside him. “Do feel free to sit down if you desire, I’m sure the walk up here was a little tiring so early in the morning. You may also move the mat away if you are not comfortable with the proximity.”

“I’m sorry sir… for running away that day you returned…” Zayne apologized as he cautiously approached, dragging the mat on the ground further back towards the spot he entered from before sitting down apon it, pulling his jacket in close around himself for warmth. “It was rude and insensitive of me, and I apologize.”

“You needn’t apologize for a fear you had no control over, dear child.” Mondatta assured, making no move to change his position. “And please, merely call me Mondatta, there is no need for such formality with me.”

“Sorry sir- Mondatta…” Zayne corrected as he tried not to focus on the way his heart hammered in terror in his chest. “Force of habit with people like you…”

“People like me?” Mondatta asked with peaked curiosity. “What ever do you mean?”

“People with a lot of authority… I’ve… never been good around people like that.” Zayne admitted, peering down at the valley of snow and gold below them as the sun continued to shimmer across Nepal. “Cops, goverment people, public speakers, teachers…. Parents… I’ve never been good with any of them.”

“And why is that?”

“I just- I get scared that if I fuck up, something bad will happen to me, and I don’t have my brother Genji anymore to protect me like I did when I was a kid.”

“I know it isn’t much coming from me, and that you’ve probably already heard it, but I would never lay a hand on you, nor anyone who stays peacefully in our monastary.”

“I know, and thats the fucked up part…” Zayne laughed dryly. “I know that, and yet I’m still scared of you.”

“Well perhaps you only need time to get used to my presence then.” Mondatta offered, a tilt of a smile to his tone. “After all, you may visit me at any time.”

“Thank you si- … Mondatta.” Zayne sighed before standing back up, the anxiety not having left the back of his mind. “But I think I still need some time before we can have… longer conversations.”

“Of course,” The monk spoke with a nod to himself. “I hope to have you visit me again, whenever you are ready.”

With that, Zayne began back down the mountain, his body warming with not only the morning sun’s embrace, but also the affectionate words spoken by Mondatta, a promise that held some form of security to it, some control that the assassin could hold over their meetings instead of the raw authority that Sojiro once held.

B-Sides by Emile part 2

Part 11

[yombleflobber-mobile-emporium]

My Terrible (possibly) Dating Advice

First off, I have a large couch to move into this space, and we can sit on it, and I will tell you my advice, because that's definitely what you want.

I'm a Christian, so I have a certain perspective I think is "the right way" to handle dating. Primarily, this means that throughout the dating process, you don't have sex, you don't live together, you do your best to respect your significant other's parents' wishes (which can look like a variety of things, every situation is different). I also am a very firm believer that you try to keep the whole process from start to finish short. There is almost no reason to keep someone on the hook for five years while you both dick around trying to figure out your feelings/situation. Life is fucked up, and having someone with you that can cut through the shit with you is a literal lifesaver.

SO!

You have found someone you like, that seems to tolerate you. Nice! Are you, like, friends? Just friends? Or...are you...

First things first, let's talk about the Friendzone. I know this feels like it mainly applies to guys, but I'm sure a lot of women also have the experience that you want to be with someone that you can call your friend, so you avail yourself to your peers of the opposite sex as a friend in the hopes that possibly that could progress to something more. There is nothing inherently wrong with this.

My wife is my best friend. I can tell her anything. I don't feel "at home" unless I'm with her.

That said, you gotta make your intentions absolutely clear, like, yesterday. Good relationships are built on trust, and open communication. Telling someone you like them romantically is an amazing test for finding out who they are, who you are, and determining next steps. It seems like a cop-out, and I know it's hard, but if you really want to spend the rest of your life with this person, you need to tell them.

By the way, when I say I know it's hard, I don't want you to just glaze over that. Like, It's Fucking Hard To Talk To People. I've wanted to get married, in theory, since I discovered it was a thing. Women are fucking sick, and I still struggle to talk to them (outside of my wife, because she is incredibly long-suffering, and can take my shit). I had to be introduced to my wife; I sure as hell wasn't going to just talk to her on my own.

I'm saying you need to tell this person you like them (or even go hogwild and say you love them, just know that can be manipulative, and you should absolutely feel like a sack of shit if you are trying to use your feelings to leverage their sympathy), because I've tried the other stuff. I've been that creep on the other side of the room trying to telepathically communicate by staring intently, I've tried to casually insert myself as a friend and work up to a point where I thought we were good enough friends that, you know, dating with a view toward marriage is the logical next step.

The only thing I've done that consistently works is telling the other person how I feel, making my intentions clear, and dealing with the consequences. It doesn't have to be massively demonstrative; there are so many methods of communication you could use, and it is absolutely not a problem if you ask someone out via text — do what works in your situation.

From there, you have a fairly simple, if deceptively so, series of actions you can take.

If the other person is receptive to your advances, great! You can work with them to move forward with the relationship and move further down the path of mutual sacrifice in love.

If the other person is not receptive, it's...tricky? People don't like to straight up say, "I don't like you." Usually they'll say things like, "We can still be friends!" Which, I might add, is perfectly acceptable. Friends are difficult to come by, and we should avoid writing friendship off as a relationship. Maybe you don't want to view them as friends, though, and that is also acceptable.

If you don't feel like you can be "just friends" with this person, DON'T.

This applies to both people. If you're being rejected, you say, "Hey, I really appreciate that, but I really had a need in this relationship that you are not willing to fulfill, and I don't feel comfortable filling the role as a friend right now; it would be disingenuous of me to tell you that is satisfactory, and I think in future I will try to distance myself from this relationship in order to recoup and move on."

That's maybe a bit of a mouthful, but I want to stress that the same underlying principle applies that drove you telling them your feelings in the first place.

You have needs, and if the relationship is not meeting those needs, you don't need to pretend that it is.

Don't be a dick about it. Again, friends are hard to come by, and the offer of continued friendship should be taken at face value. Sometimes, however, being with that person can make you relive that rejection over and over again, and it's important to parse that out, be honest with yourself and others, and don't cause yourself or others unnecessary pain and resentment.

If you are rejecting someone, don't offer friendship if you aren't willing to follow through.

I really don't have a lot of experience in this regard. One, I've never had to outright reject anyone, two, I've always just heard the "let's just be friends" as, "I'm probably never going to talk to you again."

I know I said you should take it at face value, and I want to be honest, I'm not sure what that looks like. I can't imagine me personally having the same level of relationship with someone that I had put myself out for and been rejected by.

Well, okay, that's not entirely true. There was this gal that I asked on a date, and she was really nice, and told me she wasn't interested romantically, and I don't think the friendship died after that. Like, we could still talk, and, like, now I'm not in contact with her, but I would still consider her a friend.

I just kind of forget about people that aren't in my immediate vicinity, but that may or may not be ADHD.

Anyway, this is pretty much all I wanted to say about this.

I get frustrated by Internet Logic that states (1) As a woman being friends with a guy, you're obligated to want to marry him if he wants you to, as well as (2) If you, as a guy, enter into a friendship with the eventual view that you may have a romantic partner from it, you are the scum of the earth.

I mean, how exactly are you supposed to find someone? Tinder?

You are absolutely allowed to enter a friendship with the intent to move toward romance, but you also have to understand the other person is never obligated to reciprocate those feelings. You are both obligated only to control yourself, and respect the other person.

And that's hard, but if you just got what you wanted and they're left in a relationship they don't want, that's...that's a hollow victory, there, buddy.

[idealisticrealism]

TCL 3x02 thoughts

Still adjusting to this weird feeling of watching something that I really enjoy and that genuinely means a lot to me, yet also feels irreversibly altered from the thing I initially fell in love with...

But anyway. Many thoughts and spoilers ahead.

The main things:

This ep starts immediately after last ep (the case worker lady is in the same clothes, Luca gets cleaned up then goes to his appointment with her)

Thony telling Fi “I feel like I’m losing everyone” right as the opening credits roll, with Adan’s name missing… god this season is going to be such a fun game of counting how many times I cry per episode. Speaking of which, honourable mention to Thony immediately grabbing a beer (despite it being the middle of the day) and clearly trying not to cry as she tells Fi she's haunted by the look on Arman's face and that she shouldn’t have left him

“If we didn’t meet, my son wouldn’t be alive today (...) he only made it because of Arman” Ugh and that's really the heart of it, isn't it? Arman may be gone, but Thony and Luca’s lives are the legacy he left behind, and they'll carry him with them always

Thony daring Angel to kill her and face the consequences from Sin Cara… man, she really has learned a few things. But damn, who would have thought that her life would ever get to the point where she had to singlehandedly dismember like 5 corpses under threat of death, and then almost get caught red handed by the cops and have to bust out and run for it. Yikes lol

Honestly, poor Thony seems like she’s barely holding on by a thread now; this season is definitely showing us how much being without Fi and Arman (particularly Arman, given that Fi has been gone a little while) affects her, and tbh Elodie really did a great job of selling the utterly unstable, panicked-to-the-point-of-throwing-up, shaky look that she wears for half the episode lol

Gotta say, watching Thony and Jorge interact is a really interesting juxtaposition from her and Arman… Arman was genuinely taken with her right from the start, and was the one who was instigating most of their early interactions. Jorge wants nothing to do with her, and Thony is the one trying to form a connection (not for personal reasons obviously, but to gain him as an ally and therefore potentially benefit from his protection). And unlike Thony and Arman's natural chemistry and the softness that came from him helping Luca so early on, these two are so stilted and awkward, and they clash on everything– on the kind of man Arman was, the killing of the rival cartel guys, the jobs Sin Cara wants her to do, her showing up at his daughter’s school, etc. Ngl, while I absolutely do not want it to happen, I could see the shippability of a dynamic like this– the initial opposition between them, only to find that they are more alike than they think, etc? It's a classic. Also, her wearing his hoodie?? In two separate interactions, including one in private, and she didn't give it back?? Bitch that was just mean of the writers to do that to me

I have always cared about Nadia and wanted the best for her, and honestly this season has me feeling even more strongly about her. She really is ride or die for Arman, just like Thony is, and I love that she came to Thony this ep fully expecting them to take on the cartel as a team, and then felt genuinely betrayed and let down when Thony seemingly abandoned the search for Arman out of fear of the cartel. Little does Nadia know that Thony is both actively searching for Arman and trying to save all their lives rn. Sigh, so many problems in this show could be avoided if people were just honest with each otherrrrr (though of course the whole reason Thony didn't tell her the truth was to avoid endangering her). But anyway, nobody better be hating on Nadia for turning to Russo here– tbh it was a pretty logical move for her situation, and given that things are obviously going to work out okay for Thony in the end (being the main character and all) I'm actually kinda happy for this betrayal to happen, as it will actually put them on more even footing in their relationship and allow them to have a truce moving forward

Clearly the tail that Ramona has on Thony is better at their job than Kamdar’s was lol… though I guess part of the point of Kamdar’s guy was to be seen, to intimidate her and remind her of his power through the others he controls, whereas (at least where Thony is concerned) Ramona does all her intimidating and power-reminding herself. Gotta respect that level of badassery lol, and in some ways it highlights just how important Thony is in Ramona's eyes. She can see that Thony clearly means a lot to Arman, and so she sees protecting her as the key to reconciling with him. Sighhh. Well, let’s just hope Thony has proved her worth to them by the time they learn Arman is dead... (I mean obviously of course she will, bc again, main character lol)

Other stuff:

As an Aussie I need to know the backstory behind Luca’s stuffed toy koala lol

Fi really didn’t handle the father/son intro well at all lol. At least they fixed the continuity issue with her supposed ‘one night stand’. Chris did get over his anger impressively fast for a 15 year old though lol… one chat/cooking session with dad and everything was all better haha

Jorge’s instant code-switching with the teacher where he got all friendly and pleasant and put on a more US-American accent?? Nice. Great commentary on the way immigrants have to deliberately alter things about themselves to be more 'palatable' to white Americans, thereby making their own lives safer

I feel like the costume department deliberately chose aviator-style (cool, rebellious, unreadable) sunglasses for Jorge as another point of difference from Arman, who always wore the sleeker, more sophisticated Ray Bans

Violetta is freaking ADORABLE

Okay as someone who has listened to so much Ruby Ibarra since early 2022, the Ruby cameo was pretty cool actually… they should have had Chris/Sean dance though!

It was nice to see Fi’s parents (specifically her dad) being more supportive of her finally

What’s the bet that the money from Paolo ends up saving both their asses at some point

The ep title ‘For my son’ was cool in that it was both a reference to Thony’s signature line about doing everything for her son (particularly considering the custody issues, and the intensely terrible stuff she had to do this ep) and also to the Paolo & Chris storyline, given that their entire arc happened within this ep and ended with the 'for my son' note. Nicely done, writers.

[boldlyvoid]

Of Quartz I Will

Amethyst You So Much✨ Part 2: Of Quartz I Will

Summary: after 2 years of dating, Spencer decides it's finally time to get Y/N something to match her Amethyst bracelet.

Warnings: fluff, gun violence, shooting tw, Reid's season 5 knee injury, hurt/comfort, emotional smut, body massage, hand jobs, riding, penetrative sex.

word count: 6K

Spencer notices her as she walks in, through the briefing room window, she’s wearing his purple shirt. He wanted to wear that for work today but couldn’t find it anywhere, now he knows why.

“Excuse me,” he says to his group of teammates as they contribute reading case files.

“Hey,” Spencer grabs her attention from the railing beside the briefing room. “I’ve been looking for that shirt everywhere.”

“It’s mine now,” she smiles, setting her things down at her desk for the night. “I’ll buy you a new purple dress shirt.”

“Buy yourself one, I like that one,” he whines.

“Finders keepers, doctor Reid. Either stop leaving your shit on my bedroom floor or move in already.”

Everyone hears it. All eyes are on them as they bicker in the middle of the bullpen, including the team of profilers just beyond the window.

“Okay,” he agrees. “We’ll talk about this later.”

She climbs the stairs quickly, giving him a good morning hug even though it was 9pm. “I love you, that’s why I’m wearing your shirt.”

He smiles against her shoulder as he holds her, “I love you, more so in my shirt.”

When he sits back down at his chair at the round table, everyone is waiting with a raised brow. They want details, they want his opinion, they want to hear him stutter and see him blush like he used to. But he doesn’t.

“Yes, I will be moving in with her. We have people to save,” Spencer reminded them. Avoiding eye contact and flipping through the files.

Derek tugs on his amethyst bracelet, he hasn’t taken it off since he got it, almost 2 years ago. “Are you ever going to get her any other jewellery?”

“When she goes home I’ll show you,” he whispers, still avoiding eye contact as they all gasp. “Keep it cool or I will kill you.”

He keeps an eye on her at her desk, smiling when she looks up to see him. She blows him a kiss and waves softly a few times, but other than that, they don’t talk for the rest of the day.

—

The next time She sees him, he’s in her bed sound asleep as she’s coming home from work. She sits on the edge of the bed and brushes his hair away from his face to wake him up gently, he blinks into the morning sunlight to see her.

“Good morning,” he smiles.

She’s in his pink shirt today. She liked to keep something of his close on bad cases that take him out of town. In this case, out of the country. He was in Canada for a few days, the case was horrific and she had to deal with all the office work in Penelope’s absence.

“Amethyst,” she whispers, it was part of their secret code.

Spencer, being a cunning linguist, he loved anagrams.

They had Amethyst for I miss you, Quartz for of course, and Olive for I love you. It was easier to keep the PDA to a minimum at work, not wanting to sit in a seminar like Derek and Penny about sexual misconduct and hostile work environments.

“Olive,” Spencer replies, pulling her down into the bed so she can cuddle in.

“We can’t stay, there’s another case. JJ told me to bring you in on my way home,” she explains softly. “They need you to go to ER Doctor Barton’s house, in McLean, he got a note saying someone was going to kill his son. So far they’ve also connected him to a few surrogate kills of Hispanic men, they need the speed reader to go through all his recent surgeries.”

He sighs, holding her tightly and snuggling in against her back, “no.”

She laughs, “Spencer, you can read really fast and the faster you read the faster you can come home to me.”

“Fine,” she has perfect logic, he always tells her that. “Are you driving me to the guy's house?”

“Yep, so we can stop for coffee and talk in the car, I really did miss you a lot,” she struggles out of his grasp to turn and face him, opting to hold his face in her hands as she looks at him. He’s exhausted, just like her.

“I missed you too, I’m sorry I was gone so long,” his voice is barely a whisper, “We should take a day off together soon.”

“Yeah,” she smiles wider, completely in love with him. “I’d really like that, maybe we can look at apartments?”

“Apartments?” He repeats the word with a grin, raising his eyebrow softly. “I thought you liked it here?”

“It’s too small, I want to get a cat, if you’re bringing your closet here we’re going to need a bigger one,” she ranted. “And actually, I was thinking if you’re on the same page as me and this is a long-term thing for you too, what if we just got a bigger place and got a mortgage and start a little life outside the FBI, together?”

He’s so in love with her, “get my bag?” Is all he can say.

“What?” She’s so confused, shaking her head softly as she comprehends it.

“On the floor there, grab my bag, please there’s something for you in there,” he points behind her, trapped under her and the blanker so it’s not like he could get it himself.

She gets up, placing the bag on the bed for him as she watches him dig through it for a little box. “Arminius helped me pick this out.”

He had become best friends with the owner of the rock shop, she wasn’t surprised to hear that he had gotten something else from there for him. It made her giggle with excitement, bouncing softly as Spencer sat up and moved his bag out of the way.

But then he got out of bed, he’s in a pair of purple boxers and his hair is a mess and he’s so nervous and she has no idea why until he gets down on one knee.

“I was waiting to do this.”

“Holy shit.”

He nods with a shaky laugh, “yeah, I’m in it long term if you are?”

“How the fuck am I supposed to drive you to work now?” She laughs, unable to stop smiling as the two of them stare hopelessly at each other. She hasn’t even looked at the ring yet, too occupied with the wonderfully happy look on his face.

“Quartz,” is all she can say, flabbergasted as she keeps laughing with a shocked smile.

He takes it from the box and she watches as he slides the most beautiful purple Amethyst ring over her ring finger and then her hands are back on his cheeks. Pulling him into a kiss, she can’t seem to hold him close enough as she breathes in. Holding her breath as she keeps him there.

He pulls away with a laugh, “when are we supposed to be there?”

“Now.”

“Damn,” they’re all giggles.

And it doesn’t stop, she takes off Spencer’s shirt and he puts it on instead, matching it with a vest and a tie while she makes him a coffee and can’t stop smiling as she glances at the ring.

It really only made sense for their engagement to happen in the same place she fell in love with him.

Sure, she liked him a lot when he was getting her rocks and she really wanted to get to know him more after his last note, but it was the bracelet that made her fall in love. He went out of his way to make her smile on what felt like the worst day of her life, and she knew she wanted forever with him from then on out. Now she was going to get it, she was going to be Agent Y/N Reid, and her ring was absolutely perfect.

He catches her taking photos of it in the sunshine when he comes out of the bedroom. She still can’t stop smiling, it’s just so perfect and she’s just so in love with him.

They get muffins from the bakery under her apartment before getting in her car, “where is it?” Spencer asks, playing the role of GPS whenever they drove together.

“120 Kensington Road, McLean Virginia,” she members it clearly.

“Take a right,” Spencer smiles, and she’s off.

She drives with one hand, looking at her ring almost more than the road as Spencer held her other one. She pulled up to the Doctor’s house and he didn’t want to leave. Sighing, he looked at her with puppy dog eyes.

“I will see you when you get home, I’m going to call out after this case is done and you get mandatory 24 hours off for back-to-back cases,” she said, knowing protocol almost better than him. “Go to work.”

“Fine,” he frowns again, getting out of the car and walking around to her door. She rolls the window down and tilts her chin up, leaning out for the kiss he’s waiting to give her.

“Let me know when you’re done, I can come and pick you back up,” she whispers against his lips between kisses.

One last smooch and he pulls away, backing up so he isn’t tempted to stay any longer, “olive.”

“Olive,” she replies with a smile, waving slightly before he disappears behind the door.

She releases a long sigh, melting into the chair as she lets the butterflies swarm around a bit in her stomach, it felt wonderful.

She went home, napped from 10 till 2 and then sat in bed to stare at her beautiful ring for a little while. She couldn’t believe he proposed just like that. All she asked was if he wanted to get a mortgage on a house and she guesses he heard "spend the rest of your life with me."

Sometimes, when Spencer was on a case in Virginia and too busy to keep her updated, she would turn on the police radio and listen to what was going on around in the area. It was good to keep her mind preoccupied and to remind herself that he was safe.

At least that’s what it used to do.

“Shots fired at 120 Kensington Road, McLean Virginia, 10-999, 11-41, all units in the area are requested.”

“10-999, officer down, 11-41, send ambulances,” she whispers to herself, remembering all the dispatch lingo from the office.

She doesn’t have time to panic, she unlocks her safe and grabs her gun, loading it and then she’s out the door, in her car and pulling up behind the sheriff's car as she’s running out.

She tosses her badge up to show the cops as she tries to run onto the scene, “I’m an FBI agent on his team, let me through!”

She slides her knees along the grass, surely ruining her jeans as she dives for him. She places a hand on his bloody knee and looks everywhere else, “are you okay? Are you good? Holy shit, Spence?”

Her breathing is so heavy, she clutches her chest with her left hand and tries to calm down as he looks up at her and they breathe in and out a few times without breaking eye contact. He’s completely fine, there’s just a bullet in his knee, he assures her.

“I’m fine,” he laughs lightly, wincing at the pain as he leans forward to kiss her gently.

She’s there only 2 minutes before Derek, JJ and Rossi are pulling up on the scene. Everyone huddled around them on the grass as the EMTs bandaged his knee up before taking him to the ambulance.

“You need to call Emily,” Spencer speaks over everyone, “something happened to Hotch, I’m fine here with Y/N, just go see him.”

He was always going to be fine with her, that was for sure. She never left his side, except when they took him in for surgery and forced her back into the waiting room. But as soon as he was okay again, his hand was in hers.

—

He was given a month off after his knee surgery, but he still ended up in the office most nights. Becoming more of a night owl than usual as he accompanied his fiancé to her desk and sat beside her as she did her work. It was really nice to spend time with her and not have to do anything.

Of course, he filled his time by going over other case files, things they weren’t able to get to as a team and things that didn’t fit the criteria of the BAU. He made phone calls and sent emails, helping small-town cops make simple connections and doing more good that way.

He sat at her desk, his leg resting over her lap as she made a few phone calls. Handing the background of the cases, filing off invoices and approvals. Dispatching units and requesting files and overrides from other departments. She was amazing.

She hangs up the phone, finally, after 45 minutes of rolling her eyes and sighing as she was transferred from office to office all around America. She places her hand on his leg and absentmindedly runs her hand along his shin, staring off at the desk, silently.

“Are you okay?”

She nods, “do you think you’re healed enough to start looking at places?”

He nods back, “actually, I already found one. Hold on,” he slides his leg off her lap and stands with his crutches, hobbling over to his desk where he looks through his files for a new folder.

When he comes back to her, he places the folder in her hands, “forever homes,” is listed on the tag and he sees her heart melt in her eyes. She opens the folder as he sits down, there are about 15 pages of house and apartment listings printed off.

“When did you do all this?” She whispered, shocked and not wanting to cry at work.

“Before I got shot, I was on the phone with Penelope and I asked her to help me find some, she printed off like 50 and I selected the good ones, but there’s more if you don’t like an-“

“Babe,” she cut the rant short, “I’m sure I’ll love any of them, as long as they come with you.”

He pulls a specific sheet from the pile, “this one is my favourite.”

She can see why, it’s a large, green exterior, Victorian home. There’s a turret and a porch, large windows with a bench seat in the kitchen. A garage, 4 bedrooms, a finished basement, a study and a pretty nice backyard.

“It’s a bit of a fixer-upper, but Derek said he’s willing to help teach me how to fix some stuff,” Spencer pressed his lips together awkwardly. He really wanted this on.

“Let’s get a Realtor and set up a walk-through,” she agreed, “and we should bring Derek because he’ll know more than most inspectors anyway. I don’t want to get a place with a cracked foundation or a faulty water heater.”

He smiled again, “remember last week when I had that extra appointment?”

She tilted her head, “no, there is no way you’ve already been there to check it out without me.”

“And I put an offer in, but I was waiting for your approval,” he adds, nervous for her to hate it.

“With what money? I thought we were doing this together?” He’s not sure why she’s upset, normally she loves his surprises.

“When I sold my moms house, I invested the money and it’s been gaining interest for years now,” his voice is soft, “I got through college with scholarships and if I was ever down on money I just had to go to one casino and I always leave with two grand, minimum, I promise, I’m really in this for the long run. I know what I'm doing.”

She smiles, picking up the listing and calling the agency. “Hi this is Y/N Y/L/N calling, my fiancé, Doctor Spencer Reid, recently put an offer in on the listing for 247 Chestnut Drive, I’d love to come and see it soon and take some measurements and things. If you could call me back…”

Spencer is so in love with her it hurts. He wants to scream right then and there, like a kettle on a hot stove for too long, he’s bursting at the seams. She hangs up the phone with the best smile he’s ever seen, “I’m going home early, cause I’m sick, care to join me?”

She stands then, putting her hand out for him so he could stand with her help. “Quartz,” he replies, taking her hand and stands, she gathers their things and she clocks out. No one really cared about all her sick days, she did her job well and they wanted the good doctor to be taken care of.

When he finally gets to show her the inside of the house, she is so in love with it. The hardwood is all original, same with the railings, shelves, banisters and countertops. They're all rustic and beautiful, she can’t help but run her finger over everything as she looks around with an open mouth. X

The kitchen cabinets are green, there is a beautiful colourful wallpaper as a backsplash… and it’s completely empty. It was a remodel, some house flippers did it up and didn’t want to stay. It was made more modern, updated appliances and every safety protocol met. It was perfect.

She turned to him with a smile after only 5 minutes of looking, “this is it.”

“Good,” the women showing them around said, “because your offer was approved, with your say so I can get everything started with escrow.”

“Holy shit!” Y/N cheered, jumping a bit and showing off while Spencer just leaned on his crutch. She walked up to him and wrapped her arms around him, kissing his cheek a few times.

“You can start that paperwork,” Spencer smiled, holding her back with his face in the crook of her neck.

—

The hardest part of moving is transporting all of Spencer’s books from one home to another. It's at least 30 boxes of books and Derek will be faxing his chiropractor bill to Spencer within the week.

His office here was huge, floor-to-ceiling oak shelves and green walls, full of all his books and belongings now. It was his own space in the house he shared with his future wife.

It felt crazy to him.

She used to just be the cute girl in the office, he can remember the exact moment he laid eyes on her. She was walking around aimlessly with some files in her hands when he turned around at his desk. She looked lost, overwhelmed and like she was about to have a breakdown.

She looked at him with the same fear he felt on his first day, he took the file from her and knew exactly where it was meant to go. She followed behind him, quiet as a mouse as he placed it in a folder by the wall under a sign that said "Anderson."

He turned with a press-lipped smile and a nod and then they went their separate ways. Silent conversations became their thing, the only time he really heard her voice was when she called him in in the middle of the night or when he heard her on the phone.

Other than that; she smiled when they passed each other, she’d tap her watch when he needed to be doing something Hotch asked for and was preoccupied with something else, she even knew exactly what he was looking for by just observing his chaos. Always able to pull a sheet of paper from the bottom of the stack with ease, and always silently, until that one day she said sorry to him after slamming the phone.

Now he knows that she talks in her sleep, she likes to go over her plans out loud in the shower every morning, and she sings all day long. Be it little tunes, hums, random tongue clicks or whistling, she’s always making noise. His favourite, however, was when sometimes she’d remember something she was trying to remember during a conversation they had, 4 days prior, and she’d scream it out like he knows what she’s thinking every second of every day.

He was in love with her voice, he never wanted to stop hearing it.

He was in love with her face, he never wanted to stop seeing it.

He was in love with her body, he never wanted to stop touching it.

He was in love with her mind, he never wanted to stop exploring it.

All those thoughts rushing to his brain and rushing a new form of butterflies for him. Like anxiety, but happier. Like he couldn’t wait to spend the rest of his life with her. It was anticipation rather than fear.

She really was it for him, and as he unboxed his life into the house they were about to share for the upcoming future, it all became very real. This was how the rest of his forever was going to look with her. All their memories from here on out were going to take place in this house, in these rooms.

When he picked this house, it was just a fun idea, and now he looks at the hardwood floors and thinks about how wet baby feet are going to sound during bath time. He wonders how many times the creaky steps are going to let him know she’s coming up to bed, he wonders what screaming matches and fights and love-making will happen beyond the bedroom door across from his study.

He wonders if she’s going to love him as long as he wants to love her.

He opens his study door then, “Hey, babe?”

“Yeah?” She calls up from the bottom of the stairs.

“Can you come up here?”

She marches up the stairs, still not used to the creaky staircase or the length of stairs she had to climb, soon enough, she’s on the second floor and walking into his study, “what’s up?”

He doesn’t know how to ask, he doesn’t even really know what he wants actually. He just missed her, and she was only just downstairs.

“Can I have a hug?”

It comes out more pathetic than he predicted, cringing at the embarrassment as he shrunk into the couch.

“Quartz,” her voice is soft as she approaches him.

Sitting on the brown leather couch that was once in his apartment, she wraps her arms around him and he holds her back softly.

Resting his head on her shoulder, he just wants to hold her for a while. Eventually, they end up laying down with her on his chest, still holding each other as silent as they were in the beginning.

“I love you,” Spencer whispers against her hair.

She snuggles in more, rubbing her cheek against his shoulder softly, “I love you, too, are you okay?”

He nods softly, “I was just thinking about everything and I wanted to hold you.”

She swoons, “do you remember the first night we cuddled like this?”

He nods again, brushing his chin against her head each time, “it all feels like history repeating like it’s supposed to be this way for us.”

“I like to think so,” she agreed. “I actually think you’re my twin flame.”

He hums, thinking about it, “I’m not sure I know what that means.”

“So soulmates are kind of like mirror souls, they are exactly everything that the other needs and they fill the missing parts for each other." She explains softly and he can already tell where her rant is going.

"I don’t think that’s us because we are too similar; sometimes we butt heads and don’t see eye-to-eye, and you drive me crazy a lot of the time because we have the same anxiety and daddy issues, but it’s also because you do things I think about doing and then I can’t do them because they're done already and they’re my calm down things so then I have nothing to calm down with, like yesterday-“

“Babe,” he whispers, “I know, we finish each other’s sandwiches, that’s what your niece said when she saw us together.”

It makes her smile and he can feel her cheekbone against his chest, “twin flames are what happens when one soul is ripped in half and sent to two bodies. They’re capable of surviving separately, as long as they have the right kindling, but they burn brighter together.”

“People sometimes think fire is living because it consumes and uses energy, requires oxygen, and moves through the environment,” Spencer says softly, “have you ever seen something catch fire on both ends?”

“Yeah, a few times, why?”

“It’s never about burning the item entirely, both fires are only concerned with connecting to each other for mass destruction. They always burn in the strangest patterns, but they always connect first before devouring the victim.”

She sits up to look at him, “are you saying I devoured you?”

“That would be de-flowered,” he teases, “but no, I’m saying it makes sense. We really have been burning through everything to find each other.”

“I cannot believe you just said I de-flowered you before the most beautiful thing you’ve ever said,” she laughs, “and it was a mutual de-flowering, might I remind you.”

“I will never forget,” he coos, leaning forward and pressing his lips against hers.

She pushes him back against the couch, it’s been forever since they’ve really done anything. With moving, Spencer’s recovery, her working nights and sleeping all day. It hasn’t been rewarding in a long time, it’s just been enjoyable.

“No,” he whispers as she starts to trail kisses down his neck. “I’m not having sex on the couch the first time we do it in the house.”

She laughs against his neck, pushing herself off the couch and extending a hand to him, “did the doctor even say you can yet?”

“I can’t do all the work, but I can give a second opinion?” He couldn’t stop the grin on his face as she hauled him to his feet.

“Let me heal you,” she whispers, and he knows exactly what she means.

She lays him down on their bed, on top of the covers with no clothes on as she gathers her things. She closes the blinds, turns on her amber lamp, and lights her candles. But his favourite thing that she adds is the sound therapy… helping the water in his body vibrate at the right frequency to calm him completely. She’s going all out for this one.

Much like the first time.

She’s naked too, both of them completely unfazed by each other’s naked form by now. She sits between his legs with all her chakra stones in her hands and she sets them down on his stomach before arranging them in order where they’re supposed to help on his body.

The Amethyst is just above his head for his crown chakra, touching his scalp gently. He closes his eyes as she places a Lapis Lazuli on his third eye, in the centre of his forehead. An Aquamarine on his throat. Rose Quartz on his heart, Tiger’s Eye on his solar plexus, Pyrite on his belly button and finally, Fire Agate at his core.

He always felt so totally relaxed like this, even the first time she ever laid him down like this. He was so calm, he knew he was in good hands and seeing her bless the room made him feel even better.

“Only good may enter here,” the words she repeats every full moon when she opens the windows and blessed the whole house. Keeping them safe, happy, healthy and loved.

She kissed the scar on his knee, causing him to open his one eye to see her. She was laying between his legs now, head resting on his hip as she lightly ran her fingers over his knee, ticking the skin where he finally had feeling again. It took forever for the numbness to go away, even longer for the pain. But she was so patient with him the whole time, taking the best care of him.

She doesn’t mind that he’s hard, she’s very close to his dick as it rests on his stomach beside the crystal.

She kisses his hip, inching each kiss over until she’s pressing one right to the shaft of his dick and he takes a deep breath. Knowing she’ll stop if he forgets how to do the breathing exercises she showed him. He wasn’t allowed to tense his body, this was about pleasure and there was no rush.

For either of them.

He’s done this for her a few times over the years too, just as slow and sensual as she was being. It was calming, rewarding, they bonded with each other and really felt like one being this way.

He heard a cap open, but he was so used to it by now that it filled him with contentment rather than excitement. He remembers the first time she said she wanted to do this, getting some skin-safe, homemade, vegan massage lube and almost turning inside out with how awkward she was asking to do this for their first time.

She sat on her knees between his legs with a small bounce as she got excited about her favourite part. She sat with the bottle resting between her thighs, warming up while she ran some of it over her hands. She massaged his thighs first, getting all the knots and making sure there was no “Charlie's on any horses”, the first time she said that he almost cried laughing and ruined the mood for a little.

She took the rocks off him then, sitting more on his hips as she drizzled the warm oil on his chest. He let his hands rest on her knees, wanting to feel her skin while she felt his. Her hands felt like magic, running over his chest, arms and shoulders like this was her job. She knew every crook, every cranny, every pressure point and soft tissue on him. His body was just as much her’s now.

It's when she presses her body flat against his that he knows the mood is changing. Her breasts are flat against his chest, her hands are behind his head as she looks down at him, her groin pressed right against him as he aches for contact, grinding up into her slowly as she stares into his eyes.

“Better?” She whispered with a small smile, already feeling how much calmer he was, she just wanted confirmation.

“Much,” he’s just as quiet in his reply. “If I don’t bend that knee, it’ll be fine.”

“I don’t mind doing all the work, baby,” she kisses him quickly, “I know you like it more like this anyway.”

She slithers down his body then, his body slick with oil as she easily glides down and creating the most wonderful amount of friction with him. He groans, tossing his head back against the Amethyst on his scalp.

She sits on his good thigh, avoiding pressure with his bad knee like he was an old man now. She makes contact with the only part she didn’t message, adding more of the massage lube to her hand before lazily jerking him off. He keeps a hand on her thigh, groping and managing her right back as she kept a perfect rhythm.

She occasionally grinds against his thigh, mostly when he moans and groans. Extremely turned on by him having a good time, proud of herself for relaxing him, always complaining that he was too tense, she really knew how to release the pressure.

Just as she gets into it, the calming sounds of rain and high-pitched frequencies come to an end… Rhiannon starts playing and he literally watches her come alive; changing her rhythm to match the beat as she starts to grind against him more, she only added his song to the queue, somehow an hour had passed and her music was resuming.

And when Spencer said she was eclectic, he meant she could go from listening to a rare Canadian band called the Tragically Hip, to Kanye West, Taylor Swift, Evanescence and back to Fleetwood Mac. He had no idea where the mood was about to go.

He moved his hand up her thigh as he tried to power through the pleasure, her hand was so amazing he was bubbling away under his skin. He manages to get his middle finger between his leg and her, massaging her clit as she bucked her hips down on him.

Mutual pleasure in any sense was enough for them, seeing the other being perfectly content after everything they went through; it was euphoric. She leans up then and kisses him desperately, unable to stop stroking him as she sucked his tongue into her mouth.

She smiles against his mouth as the song changes again, it’s the song from the ending of Dirty Dancing, he knows how much she loves that movie. Her kisses get softer, she’s so gentle as she strokes him just a few more times before throwing a leg over his hips and lowering herself onto him in one go. Bottoming out faster than before, both of them making the same moan as they curled forward for each other, mouths clashing as they held onto each other.

Grinding together, Spencer kept a hand on her to help her ride as she was preoccupied with her hands in his hair and kissing his neck as they moved in tandem. It was so good, he was incredibly close but he wanted to hold off as long as possible to feel her finish first.

His ultimate pleasure was knowing she was pleasured, he massaged her clit once more between their bodies and she shuttered, “right there,” her words are small as she kisses under his ear, tugging his hair softly as he moans so she can lick at his neck as she moves her hips up and down, gloriously.

He can’t keep his eyes open, everything is too much and he’s so relaxed; it’s like his body is floating on a cloud as she rides him like they’re actually in heaven. He was really having the time of his life and it made him smile at the end of the whimper he released as she tightened around him suddenly and on purpose.

She moves faster, and so does his wrist as he helps her over the edge first. She’s panting in his ear as she rides him with purpose. She cums with a gasp and then he’s gone, her whole body stuttering as she let out the most relaxed and uncontrollable moan he’s ever heard from her.

His grip on her ass tightens as he holds her hips down, he cums with a gasp and it’s so powerful he passes out.

—

He’s so cute when he sleeps.

She’s got him all cleaned up, everything put away and where it’s supposed to be in their new room. She just lays beside him as she watches him nap, blissed out and relaxed, she doesn’t even care that it’s such a typical guy thing to fall asleep right after.

That was kind of her mission.

He’s been so stressed, he wasn’t going to tell her because he didn’t want his stress to become her stress like it so often did. Feeding off each other like a fire, he really knew how to give a phrase to a feeling. But he was stressed because he was in pain from his knee and no matter how much he lied and said he was fine, she knew he wanted to relieve the pain but he was afraid of even taking a Tylenol.

This is the most relaxed he’s been in months.

She ordered a pizza while he was asleep, it arrived before he woke up too. She sets the pizza box, 2 bottles of pop and a roll of napkins at the end of the bed, gently, before getting back into her spot.

She brushed his hair from his face and kissed the tip of his nose gently, seeing him scrunch his face and swallow before blinking awake. She smiled at him, “Hi, sleepyhead.”

“Hello, beautiful.”

“I ordered pizza,” she whispers.

“Olive,” he replies.

“Well yeah,” it makes her giggle but she has to say it, “I got our regular green olives, mushrooms and extra cheese.”

He laughs too, extra happy after both the sex and his nap. “I love you,” he says the full thing this time.

She presses another kiss to his lips before hauling him into a sitting position, “I love you, too.”

It’s the best night of her life so far.

the house

Taglist: @dreatine for inspiring a part 2 <3

@shemarmooresfedora @spencers-dria @reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @samuel-de-champagne-problems @jswessie187 @k-k0129 @calm-and-doctor @blanchardsbk

[qlala]

Is it cheating to submit a fic request for the pride post you just made? I neeeed the whole thing (I'm on my laptop, but insert the big gay eyes emoji)

fjskdgjslg "big gay eyes emoji" you know what? just for you. just for you i have written this. i'll clean it up and upload to ao3 later but for now: have 2.7k of len dragging a sunburnt, tipsy, and glitter-covered barry back to his apartment, and happy pride!

Len wasn’t the type to begrudge anyone a good time, especially when the good time involved loud music, leather harnesses, and throwing water bottles at cops. Central City’s annual pride parade came as close as it got to challenging that attitude; families, fellow queers, and queens descended on the city waving more flags than the United Nations after a hurricane, all decked out in color combinations that Len hadn’t been able to keep straight since the ‘80s. 

The end result was the kind of crowds that could make a grown man feel claustrophobic in the middle of a city block, and that was without the visible haze of alcohol wafting off the whole event. 

But what the parade lacked in personal space, it made up for with one very important commodity: unattended wallets. 

The flock of sunburnt twinks in denim cut-offs made Len’s job almost too easy—a hand on a sweat-slicked lower back, a flash of blue eyes, and most of them wouldn’t have noticed their wallets going missing if Len had dangled their IDs in front of their faces afterwards. (While there were plenty of women dressed in just as little clothing whom Len certainly wouldn’t have minded getting within robbing distance of, he’d found queer women as a group to be less enthusiastic about uninvited touching and more enthusiastic about wallet chains, even when three sheets to the wind off of canned rosé.)   

He’d taught a dozen visiting suburbanites the importance of not keeping valuables in their back pockets by the time he spotted a familiar profile in the crowd. 

His usual red getup wasn’t much more modest than some of the outfits Len had already seen, but even knowing the shape of that body didn’t prepare Len for seeing Barry Allen stripped to the waist, bright-eyed and flushed and shimmering all over with a fine dusting of glitter. Len noted, on auto-pilot, that it didn’t seem like he’d put any of the glitter there himself; he was standing dangerously close to a drag queen throwing handfuls of the stuff on anyone who got within arm’s reach of her. It set the sun refracting off every dip and plane of muscle across Barry’s chest and stomach. Barry’s hair, already wild and dark at the roots with sweat, was full of it.   

Len’s feet were carrying him closer before he gave himself permission to move. Barry managed to drag Len into his orbit at the best of times; visibly tipsy and dripping sweat, Len would’ve had better luck resisting the turning of the earth. 

Up close, Len could take that Barry had lost his shirt somewhat recently; the slight touch of pink spanning his shoulders and chest had nothing on the serious flush across his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose. He had a spray of new freckles as well. They were barely distinguishable under the haze of glitter stuck to his skin, but Len noticed them at once, the change unmistakable on an otherwise unchanging face (not a scar to be seen, even after three years of running into burning buildings and jumping in front of bullets; Len was equal parts frustrated and relieved).   

It looked like someone had painted a few strokes of color across one of his cheeks at some point, but it was smudged to hell and back. The back of one of Barry’s hands was stained a tell-tale matching purple, and Len could only guess at what it had been at the start of the day. 

He stepped into Barry’s space as easily as he had the rest, taking care to keep Barry between him and the source of the glitter, and hesitated for the briefest moment with his hand above Barry’s spine. He’d never touched Barry like this, skin to skin; the gloves had never come off between them, metaphorically or literally. Kept things neat. 

Nothing about Barry was neat right now. He turned even before Len touched him, and the movement brought Len’s hand into contact with his side instead. It took everything in Len not to pull it back in a flinch, and he met Barry’s curious glance with a tightly-controlled smirk. 

He’d expected Barry to step back, maybe add a bit of blush to those already-pink cheeks. Instead, Barry’s eyes took a belated second to focus, and then he gave Len a face-splitting grin. 

“Snart!” 

That time, Len did have to pull backwards to avoid Barry dragging him in for a hug. To think he’d been concerned about a hand. 

Barry didn’t seem the least bit put out, smiling loose and easy like Len hadn’t iced him to the door of a bank vault the last time they’d seen each other. He hadn’t taken Barry for such a cheerful drunk—he seemed inclined toward melodrama on a good day—but Len would take it over any of the alternatives. 

“Barry. Fancy seeing you here. And so much of you, at that.” He let his gaze slide down his bare chest and stomach, pulse ticking up at the warm brown of his nipples and the sharp vee of his hipbones that invited his gaze further down. 

“You’re overdressed,” Barry disagreed. He wasn’t quite slurring, but there was a careful deliberation in his tone that told Len it was a near thing. He took a step closer and peered at Len, suspicion evident in those pale green eyes.   “And… sober.”

“I’m not here to score. Perks include keeping my shirt on.” 

For the briefest second, Barry looked almost disappointed. But it was gone in a blink, confusion taking over. He glanced down at himself, puzzled. Then his expression cleared, and he looked up with another easy-going smile.  “I got hot.” His gaze dropped again, to Len this time, and he licked his lips. “Aren’t you… you gotta be hot in all that.” 

Len was wearing a long-sleeved shirt and thin jacket, and it hadn’t hit eighty degrees all week. But he wasn’t in the mood to argue with drunk logic. And besides, another scan of the nearby revelers had made something unpleasant begin to scratch insistently at the inside of Len’s chest, and he tapped Barry under the chin with one knuckle to bring his attention back up. 

The contact startled both of them—Len’s control had slipped, something he could not afford to happen around Barry Allen—but Len recovered first. “Where’s the rest of your team of do-gooders?” 

“Lost ‘em.” Judging by the return of Barry’s crooked grin, it was an accomplishment, not a concern. “Cisco said the shot was too strong, but I didn’t wanna go. He’s the d…” He faltered, brows pulling together as he frowned. “S’the designed. Designinated, superhero, anyway. Shh!” 

He shot a pointer finger toward Len in a movement that Len clocked, alarmingly, as intending to be pressed to his lips, as if he were the one who’d been chatting about Vibe’s secret identity. Len had three years of dealing with the Flash to thank for being able to catch Barry’s wrist in time to stop him, and he glared at him for the attempt. 

But Barry only gave him a crinkle-eyed smile and twisted his hand in Len’s grip to clasp his wrist back. “S’so good to see you here. I didn’t think…” 

“Don’t tell me you had me pegged for straight.” 

Barry made a frankly insulting noise halfway between a scoff and a hiccup and tilted Len a condescending look. 

“Speedster, remember?” he asked, far too loudly, even for a crowd currently screaming along to a pop song that’d been bad enough the first time Len’d heard it in 2000. “I see it when you...” He let go of Len’s wrist to make a gesture with two fingers, parting them in a V and sweeping them up and down Len’s body, the muscles in his forearm shifting distractingly under Len’s hand. God, the kid had to be a hundred degrees. “When you check me out. In the suit.” 

Len smirked. “It’s cute you thought I was being subtle.” 

“You’re cute,” Barry muttered, childish and sulky, and Len took it for the compliment it wasn’t. 

“You had a point, Barry.” 

Barry still looked displeased with him, but his brow was furrowed again when he met his gaze. This close, it was impossible to ignore that Barry had an inch or so on him. “About what?” 

“You didn’t think…?” Len prompted him. 

Barry stared at him blankly, and Len rolled his eyes and let go of his wrist. 

“Get out of the sun, Barry,” he said. “Find a park bench. Wait for your little friends to come find you. Shouldn’t be hard—you’re as red as your suit.” 

Barry either ignored his last comment or didn’t hear it. “Iris is here somewhere,” he said, possibly to himself. “She’s…” He twirled his finger absently beside his head. “Curly, today. And… bikini.” 

Len strongly considered abandoning Barry to his sunburn to go find out for himself. But Barry was beginning to sway a bit, and a man closer to Len’s age than Barry’s was giving Barry’s toned back a speculative look from a few feet away, and Len gave in to the unsettled feeling gnawing at his ribcage. He refused to call it worry. It was annoyance—or, at the very least, the feeling was annoying him, which was close enough.   

“As much a sight for sore eyes as that would be,” he said, allowing a magnanimousness he didn’t feel to color his tone, “I doubt Miss West ran away from her group and got heatstroke. Unlike some people” 

Barry didn’t look the least bit chastened, lips curving up mischievously in a way that drew another couple interested looks. Len needed to get them both out of the crowd before he started breaking noses.

“Tell you what. Give Cisco a call, tell him you went home. My bike’s on Kingsbridge, away from the parade route.” 

Barry’s smirk sharpened. “Trying to get me out of here, Snart? I thought you weren’t here to score.” 

Len gave him a flat look, ignoring the decidedly interested way his body was reacting to Barry’s tone. 

“You can barely stand.” 

Barry’s eyes glittered at the challenge, and Len realized his mistake. 

“Barry—” 

He hadn’t even finished biting out the second syllable when the world spun out from under him, the noise and the heat and the press of the crowd swallowed up in a hair-raising charge of yellow lightning. Exactly two and a half seconds passed in a blur of movement, just long enough for Len to realize Barry was supporting the back of his head with one too-warm hand. Then the world came skidding to a stop around them. Barry’s momentum carried them both forward several feet even after their new surroundings materialized, and they very nearly went straight through a window again before Barry seemed to remember how to stop. 

Len considered pushing him out the window anyway for the stunt. True, he’d been itching to get another taste of that feeling, the ozone snap-drag of Barry’s power like a live wire under his hands, but he’d rather have waited until Barry could pass a breathalizer. 

He realized Barry still had an arm around him and shoved him off. It did nothing to dim Barry’s self-satisfied grin, and Len had to look away or risk giving into the interested once-over Barry was skimming over his body again. 

“Pretty sure the point of a designated driver is not doing that.” 

Barry followed him when he took a step back. Len made a calculated decision, decided the risk of touching Barry again was worth it, and pressed his fingers to the middle of Barry’s chest—right where the Flash insignia would be on his suit, his brain offered unhelpfully—and pushed him backwards, hard. 

Barry unbalanced and wheeled back a step. Then the backs of his knees hit the edge of the couch, and he toppled, satisfyingly, back onto the dark leather cushions. 

It was a nice couch. The whole apartment was nice, actually. Len could’ve drawn a perimeter of possible locations based on Barry’s speed and how long it had taken them to reach it if he hadn’t already known the address. 

“Sit,” he said. And then, with a smirk: “Stay.” 

Barry rolled his eyes. “Gonna have to ask nicer than that if you wanna boss me around in bed.”

The way he threw it out there, easy as anything, almost made Len miss a step as he turned away. He wasn’t going to lay a hand on Barry, not when he was drunk on sunlight and skin and whatever concoction Cisco had apparently cooked up for him. But hearing him say it, like they’d already gotten all of the messy parts out of the way—it set off warning bells in Len’s head, flashing past all the possible off-ramps he would’ve taken if Barry had ever tried to have the conversation in a more linear fashion. 

“You’re drunk,” Len said, which was a coward’s answer, and behind him, Barry made a vague noise of agreement. 

“Probably,” he acknowledged. “You could stick around ‘til I’m not.” 

Christ. Len didn’t trust himself to look at Barry again, not when he knew he’d find him sprawled out and shedding glitter all over what had looked like a very expensive couch. “Stay,” he repeated, and went off to find the kitchen. 

By the time he got back with two glasses of water, the problem had solved itself; Barry was out cold on the couch, his painting cheek pressed to the throw pillow he’d curled himself half-around. He was shivering faintly in the air conditioning, all cooled sweat and goosebumps, and Len resigned himself to the now-familiar impulse to help him that stirred in his chest. He put one of the glasses down on the table and, not trusting his hands, knocked his knee into one of Barry’s where it was bent close to the edge of the couch. 

Barry buried his face into the pillow with a noise of displeasure, and Len said his name again. 

“Last warning,” Len said. “Ten seconds, you find out if I put on steel-toed boots today.” 

Barry groaned, and if the sound hadn’t made Len’s pulse skip, the easy shift of muscles in Barry’s arm as he pushed himself up to sitting again would’ve done the trick. 

“Water,” Len said, unnecessarily, as he passed him the glass. 

Barry took it with the tips of his fingers, as if it were something personally offensive to him, and took a single, polite sip before putting it down beside the other with no small amount of distaste. Then he glanced between the glasses, and up at Len, a dirty spark already lighting behind his eyes again. 

“Don’t get your hopes up. They’re both for you.” 

Barry let out a breath with audible annoyance and dropped back against the couch cushions to glare at him. 

Len felt a modicum of sanity return to him. This, at least, was familiar ground: Barry, frustrated, asking for too much, too soon. True, it had always been about the hero business until now, but Len knew a pattern when he saw one. Give Barry an inch, and he always took a mile. 

Len gave Barry one last, appraising look. He looked ridiculous, all self-righteousness and bare skin. There was only one break in the otherwise even coat of glitter, there on Barry’s side: faint, but unmistakable, the outline of Len’s hand on his waist. The feeling in Len’s chest coalesced into something pleased and possessive. He met Barry’s glare with a slow curl of his lips, then gave him an inch.  

“Call me when you’re sober, Barry,” he said, letting his voice slip into the Cold drawl just to watch Barry’s eyes go dark. “And you can show me how well you sit up and beg.” 

He could see the impatience radiating off of Barry’s frame, the effort it was taking him to stay on the couch instead of closing the space between them. 

“Call your friends,” he reminded him. “Enough people got a look at your face today without the CCPD splashing it on every milk carton, too.”

In the elevator, Len reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the thin black wallet he’d liberated from Barry during their sprint across the city. Two and a half seconds: child’s play. A little extra incentive for Barry to track him down in the morning, not that Len thought he needed it. He flipped it open, noted the deer-in-the-headlights picture of Barry on his driver’s license with amusement, and then thumbed open the bill compartment. 

Len smirked. Barry wouldn’t miss a few dollars; he owed him for the dry-cleaning it was gonna take to get the glitter out of his jacket, anyway. 

[sunlightandsuffering]

I LEAVE FOR A WHILE AND I HAVE SO MANY UNREAD BESTIES TO LOVERS ANONS!!! Imma answer them when I get back from boating but Jfc y’all want this AU bad so here, theres no smut per se but this is the first part of the first chapter from Mikasa’s POV I hope I characterized her okay, I’m trying to stay true to the collective vision 😂

So without further ado Besties to Lovers 💕💕

Her and Eren have always been friends, but she wants the benefits, God does she want the benefits. She’s nineteen, in her second year of university and she’s still a virgin and has done absolutely nothing outside of kiss a boy, and that boy was Eren, in the eighth grade. Meanwhile the very object of her affections has a new girl in his room every fucking night. She doesn’t understand where he gets his stamina from or where he finds all of these girls.

They’ve been best friends since the third grade when he forced her to eat a mudpie because he told poor sweet naïve Mikasa it was chocolate cake. When she’d cried after having her face shoved into the mud, he’d told her to suck it up before giving her the lollipop from his lunchbox as penance. She’s loved him ever since.

And unfortunately, his selfish antics have only gotten worse over time.

Mikasa is aware she’s unbelievably sheltered, it’s not something new to her, that’s what happens when you live with three ex-cops for most of your life and the only friend, you’re permitted to hang out with on a continual basis is Eren. As a result, she’s spoiled rotten and she loves every moment of it, especially when it’s Eren doing the spoiling, but she’s trying her best to be less sheltered! She even finally got a job recently and Eren had told her how proud of her he was.

The job might also be part-time at Levi’s mechanic shop but well a job is a job it doesn’t matter if she got it through nepotism.

She’s excited about it, it means she gets to see Eren even more than usual because he works there part time as a mechanic while he puts himself through medical school.

She knows logically she should be fed up of the boy she’s spent almost every waking moment with since she was seven, but she’s not, she loves living with Eren.

He spoils her almost more than Levi, Hanji and Kenny do, which is impressive because they’re all a little crazy.

She’s also a little in love with Eren if she’s being entirely honest with herself, she lives for when he calls her ‘baby’ and his fingers trail up her thighs and he pinches the curve of her ass, telling her the gym is paying off. He’s always touch, touch, touching every part of her he can get his hands on and she loves it.

Once, Jean had tried to have her sit on his lap too when Eren hadn’t been around and although she’d felt a little weird about it, she’d complied because well he was her friend and it was okay when Eren did it, so why not Jean?

Eren had not been pleased.

Mikasa hadn’t liked it either if she was being honest, it wasn’t the same, he didn’t hold her the same way Eren did and she didn’t have the same pleasant little flutter in her tummy the way she did with Eren when his hands would dip between her thighs and along the seams of her underwear beneath her flowy dresses.

She always felt happy and warm whenever Eren touched her and if she ever felt uncomfortable he’d stop, but he was also more than happy to soothe her back to happiness, he’d kiss her neck or tell her how good she was being for him and she’d be content once again.

Sometimes she’d wriggle around in his lap and he’d hold her tight, and give her a little nibble to her ear as warning. Sometimes she’d heed his warning and sometimes she wouldn’t but when she didn’t that’s usually when Eren would take her home and she loved being alone with him much more than at a boring party while he flirted with a bunch of girls.

When she had him entirely to herself, that was when she was most happy. But these days it wasn’t often, it seemed somehow her best friend had become even more of a man whore since she’d moved in. It’d been a year and still he hadn’t cooled down, he had more sexual partners than an emperor with a harem, it was ridiculous.

The revolving door of girls was getting old for a variety of reasons, not the least of which was that she was fed up of having to explain where the coffee was as the girls pranced around their kitchen in underwear and Eren’s t-shirts. It was irritating, they didn’t understand that she would be the one to make Eren coffee or tea in the morning and that she had exclusive access to his wardrobe. The pretty blonde bitch she was glaring at right now should NOT be wearing her favourite t-shirt.

She sullenly continues to steep Eren’s tea for him, knowing he’ll need the caffeine when he wakes up while she watches the pretty little blonde march around their kitchen like she owns the place. She grabs all of Mikasa’s iced coffee ingredients from the fridge, drowning two cups of scalding hot coffee in sugary sweet. Syrup, whip cream, sprinkles, everything Eren buys Mikasa because he understands her ice coffee obsession. Meanwhile Mikasa knows for a fact Eren loathes the stuff, he tells her it’s too sweet all the time, making faces every time he steals a sip, as if it will taste different than the last time he drank it. He always gives her little cheek kisses after, awfully close to her lips or on her nose, tells her she’s sweet enough for him, that he doesn’t need anything else.

And without fail she’ll squirm and blush under his praise just like she always does and he’ll get that look in his eye, the one that’s dark and hungry that she knows usually precedes some manhandling. A slap to the ass, a pinch to her waist, something that allows him the excuse to touch her and she lives for it, sometimes if she’s really lucky he’ll tuck her into his lap and let her drink the rest of her coffee from her favourite seat there.

She’s startled out of her thoughts as the blonde girl drops two spoons onto the counter and they clatter against the marble with an angry noise, leaving spills of coffee in their wake.

“Can you be a doll and clean that up for me?” Platinum blonde asks her before she picks up both mugs and starts towards Eren’s room.

Mikasa frowns but wanders towards the sink to grab a washcloth for the mess.

Platinum blonde doesn’t make it two steps out of the kitchen before Eren’s bedroom door opens and shuts and he’s wandering into the open expanse of their kitchen wearing nothing more than a pair of plaid pyjama pants and rubbing his eyes.

Mikasa smirks at the sink, now is her favourite time of the morning, when Eren will kick out the little blonde rather brutally.

“Eren, hi!” The girl tells him breathlessly, and Mikasa turns to watch her hold out a coffee, “I made you a coffee, wasn’t sure what you liked.”

Shit, Eren’s tea! Mikasa drops her wash cloth and quickly removes the tea bag from Eren’s typical Earl Grey, thankfully it’s not too oversteeped. She wanders to the fridge to grab the cream, pretending not to be gleefully listening to the conversation next to her.

Eren takes the coffee from the girl, looking down at it as if it’s going to explode, sprinkles and chocolate shavings floating around the milky brown mixture. He raises an eyebrow up at the girl before placing the coffee on the counter, “Thanks, but I don’t like coffee.”

The girl’s eyes go a little wide and she places her mug on the counter as well, “Oh I didn’t know, tell me what you do like and I’ll make it for you, I wanted you to have a little pick me up, you know after last night,” She sends him a little smirk as she finishes her sentence but Eren remains looking unimpressed.

“I like tea, but don’t worry about it, I already have some being made right now, isn’t that right Miki?”

His eyes finally slide to hers and as usual her heart skips a beat as those intent viridians watch her so intensely, all of his attention is on her, he pays absolutely no mind to the blonde girl as he makes it to her side in a few steps.

She nods softly, she doesn’t want to reply, not in front of this girl, she’s too shy, it’s why she’s barely said three words to her yet. She hands Eren his cup of tea and he grins mischievously at her, before taking it from her hands. He winks at her before leaning in to kiss her cheek, murmuring into her ear softly, “Thanks Miki.”

Shivers erupt all over as his breath hits just under her ear, where he knows she’s most sensitive.

He pulls away and she’s left wide-eyed as he steals his tea and turns back to the blonde girl.

“Sorry what was your name again?”

The blonde’s face scrunches up in irritation, “It’s Katrina.”

“Great, Katrina I’ll walk you out.”

He takes a sip of his tea before leaving it on the counter and grabbing Katrina by the arm and dragging her towards his bedroom. They stop briefly to grab Katrina’s things before making their way to the door, Eren likely hoping to avoid her impending meltdown.

Mikasa doesn’t see it but she hears the irritated whines that turn into pleads as Eren tells the girl not so gently, to leave. The door slams and she hears footsteps as Eren follows the girl outside. Mikasa may or may not scoot a little closer to the main hallway and press her ear to the door to listen.

“But we had such an amazing night—”

“It was okay.” Eren throws in his two cents and Mikasa fights to keep in her giggle, this is her favourite part of the mornings, it’s almost worth all the pain of the night before just for this.

“What do you mean, it was amazing, Eren I think we really have something, it was so amazing—”

“Listen, I don’t do relationships, I do one-night stands and that’s it.” Eren tells Katrina firmly and Mikasa gives a little fist pump, damn right, she never sees the same girl twice and she’ll never admit how happy that small tidbit of information brings her. If he’s going to have someone else, at least she knows he has no feelings attached to it. The day he gets a serious girlfriend is the day her heart really breaks.

“What about the girl in there, Miki you called her, don’t tell me you’re not fucking her.”

Mikasa is shocked, her cheeks turning red at the assumption, how vulgar.

But also a small part of her wishes Eren was, ‘fucking’ her that is. She’s a virgin, completely innocent in every conceivable way, she’s never even touched herself, nineteen and still totally clueless with all things sex. It’s not like she hasn’t considered it or wanted to try before, she’s not a prude, she just has no idea where to even start.

Not to mention, ANY male love interests are squashed like bugs the second Eren gets wind of them, and if it’s not him it’s Levi, Kenny or Hanji.

But lately she’s considering at least buying a vibrator or something, maybe taking her own virginity, Sasha and Annie never shut up about it, she’s curious about what all the fuss is about. Every time she moves her fingers down her stomach, she heats up a little, blushing bright red and wondering if it’s wrong, if its weird.

She usually makes it to the line of her panties, concentrated on trying to figure out what she should do and imagining what she thinks will turn her on, and of course it’s always Eren. Always, always him. Unfortunately, that’s usually where her fingers stop because she feels awful, dirty for imagining her best friend touching her, thinking about his large frame looming over hers and laying kisses on her lips instead of her cheeks. Eren would never want her like that, she’s not his type, small blonde, perky and experienced. No bad Mikasa! She cuts her thoughts off before they can descend into negative territory, she’ll never have Eren romantically but at least he loves her platonically and she’ll take what she can get.

“Leave.” Eren tells Katrina in a tone that brokers no argument, the one he reserves specifically for people who insult her, and it happens often when his one night stands see a girl in Eren’s apartment that’s not them, the jealousy is real. However, what they fail to realize is that she is the one girl he actually gives a shit about, she has a special place reserved in his heart as his best friend, and all the sex in the world has nothing on that.

She continues to listen, waiting for more, but this one surprisingly kicks up little fuss and the next thing Mikasa knows she’s scrambling to move away from the door as Eren opens it, falling swiftly onto her ass in the foyer.

Eren raises his eyebrow at her as he shuts the door, leaning back against it, arms crossed and still delightfully shirtless. Looking up at him, he truly is an attractive figure, arms corded with muscle from working with cars all day, handsome chiselled face with a slit in his right eyebrow and a few tattoos placed randomly along his arms. Mikasa, understands better than anyone why girls flock to Eren like moths to a flame.

“Watcha doing down there love?” He asks, his tone deceptively sweet, she knows he won’t be happy she was listening in, especially since the other girl sort of insulted her. She plays dumb, or attempts to at least.

“Just cleaning up,” she grabs a shoe from the shoe rack next to the door, “Wanted to make sure everything was in order.”

“Uhuh,” he says doubtfully, crouching down to her level where she’s splayed out, legs askew and leaning back on her hands.

“So you were’t eavesdropping on me outside?”

She looks away, she can’t lie to him, she’s terrible at it, he knows all her ticks, and she always inevitably caves and tells him anyway.

“Miki,” His voice is chiding, a hand coming up to grab her chin and turn her in his direction. Her full bottom lip sticks out in a pout as she confesses, “I just wanted to know what you’d tell her, she wasn’t very nice to me.”

He leans in closer, edging his way into her personal space and she’s forced to lean back further on her hands as Eren kneels over her, placing his own hands on her thighs, his face getting closer and closer to hers. Her breathing comes quick as his face finds her neck, “You’re not being a very good girl today Miki. My tea was a little oversteeped and now this,”

She gasps a little, her heart thundering in her chest, theres that phrase, ‘good girl’, every so often Eren slips it into conversation and she doesn’t know why but she absolutely loves it, she adores it when he praises her. She wants to hear him say it all the time, wants to be his everything, wants to be the best.

And sometimes she’ll hear him whisper it to the girls he’s fucking, their bedrooms are right next to each other and the walls are paper thin, how could she not? And those are the times she wants to touch herself the most, when Eren tells the girl he’s with she’s being a good girl in that deep raspy voice of his, in the tone he only uses when he’s at the height of his pleasure, gravelly and filled with desire as he fucks some girl so hard the wall of their shared bedroom shakes.

Her face heats anymore at her train or thought, doing her damndest not to let her eyes follow the V of his abs down to the waist band of his pants.

“I’m sorry, I won’t do it again, I’ll be better,” she responds quickly, she doesn’t want him to be mad at her, not about this, she didn’t mean to eavesdrop, she’ll never do it again as long as he’s not mad at her.

It’s the worst when he’s mad at her, he wont talk to her for a while, won’t touch her and that’s the worst part, no little touches. She’d never realized how totally attached and needy for him she was until they were watching a movie and he wouldn’t let her sit in his lap, wouldn’t lay his head on her chest and hum into her sternum while she fought back shivers because her breasts are so fucking sensitive.

“Eren please, I’m sorry, please don’t be mad at me.”

His face is stern for a moment, dark strong eyebrows scrunched up and lips set into a line, tears prick her eyes at the thought of him giving her the silent treatment for a week again. She can’t do it.

As a tear escapes one eye, tracing a path down her cheekbones, Eren’s large calloused hand comes up to cup her face, moving from her chin, his thumb darting out to catch the tear before he brings his thumb to his mouth, licking the meagre drop from his finger.

His face settles back into a neutral expression before he buries it into her neck, leaning his whole body weight on her, and pushing her to the ground, lying across her front.

“Oh fuck Miki, what am I going to do with you?” He sighs into her neck, before leaving a little bite there that makes her squeak. Then another, and another and she knows this is her punishment but it feels so nice, bites interspersed with little kisses along the column of her throat, they’ll probably leave marks later if she’s lucky.

He pulls back when she makes a little whimpering sound as he hits a particularly sensitive area of her skin, breaking the quiet atmosphere and they both come back to themselves. She’s immediately sad because she loves it when he gets carried away like that, almost feels like she has a chance.

Eren moves away, leaving her cold and bereft on the floor as he stands up.

She stares up at him, quicksilver eyes wide and needy, she needs something, she doesn’t know what, zings shoot through her core and she’s unbearably hot, she needs something. It’s the weird feeling again, the one she only gets when he’s around and being touchy, he must see it in her eyes because a pained looks crosses his face and he almost moves to grab her again but he bites his lip and settles on holding a hand to help her up, “Come on Miki, I’ll make you breakfast love.”

She pouts but takes his hand, following him to the kitchen and sitting herself on the bar stool while he makes her favourite waffles.

It’s always like this, he’s always taking care of her, he can’t help himself and sure sometimes he’s a little mean, well most of the time, and more often than not he’s teasing her, but he takes care of her so well, she trusts him implicitly.

They’re on the cusp of something, she doesn’t know what but she can feel it building, ever since she first moved in, the tension has gotten worse. Eren is like a caged panther waiting, watching, restraining himself, his eyes are always hungry when she walks around in her pyjamas, which consist of only his old shirts and panties, but she can’t quite figure out for what.

He gives her a little wink as he slides her waffles onto a plate and cutting them up for her, before he feeds her delicately, little bites of chocolate chip and syrup. He catches little dribbles of the sickly sweet mixture that stain her lips, bringing his finger to his mouth, just for a taste. He pulls a face at the overly sweet treat, and she laughs which makes Eren smile her favourite smile, the genuine one with all his teeth only she can pull from him.

The next dribble of syrup she loses, Eren feeds it right back to her, holding out his thumb for her to lick but she does him one better and takes the whole digit in her mouth with ease, sucking the syrupy chocolate up happily. She watches him the whole time and his reaction is everything, his eyes glow greener, he leans in just a little closer and there is that intent hungry look again. It’s beginning to be her favourite look on him, something about it is just attractive.

She releases his finger with a pop, smiling at him before she sticks her tongue out, “All clean!”

Eren’s gaze is so intense she wants to look away as he moves his hand to tuck a few stray locks of hair behind her ear. He exhales before he speaks, his voice quiet, like he doesn’t mean to say it at all, “You’re such a good girl aren’t you Miki?”

“What did you say?” She asks because she wants to hear it again and again, but Eren doesn’t oblige.

“Nothing baby, finish your waffles, you haven’t been eating well lately, I don’t want anything left on your plate.”

He takes care of her so so well. How could she ever need anyone else?

But evidently Eren does, to satiate his more carnal needs, the ones she’s clueless about and the one’s she longs for him to use her for. He gets a call halfway through her breakfast and he departs from alternately stealing bites of her waffle and letting her eat by herself. It’s a call from a regular girl, Selena, she’s pretty sure her name is, a beautiful Brazilian exchange student with blue eyes and a perfect olive hue. He kisses Mikasa goodbye, a swift peck to the cheek, before he tells her not to wait up, he’s going to work this afternoon shift and afterwards he’s going ‘out’.

She’s may be naïve but she’s not stupid, she knows what ‘out’ means, he’s going to spend the night at Selena’s and tomorrow he’ll come home with mussed hair and hickeys, he won’t need anyone to make his morning tea, won’t be home to make her breakfast.

She’ll be all alone in the apartment once again and not for the first time, she wonders if maybe she should be doing the same. Just what is she missing out on that’s so good that Eren can’t go two days without it, what is so great about sex that Sasha and Annie will spend hours discussing it over dinner?

She drops her breakfast dish in the sink, scowling as she watches the water run over the remains of her breakfast, filling the sink with bubbles, maybe she should try it too. Maybe sex is what she needs from her life, maybe Eren is onto something.

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

HASO, “Secret Weapon.”

Hello everyone!

Sorry I have not posted anything in like a weak. I have plenty of excuses number one being that the fourth book in my favorite book series (the Stormlight Archive by Brandon Sanderson came out) and I needed to finish reading it for my own sanity

number two being that I am currently working on a new novel and am trying to write 2000 words a day on that

plus I am trying to get into graduate school

also I have a job

And am experiencing a tiny bit f burnout :)

Either way I am sorry that It has been a while, and I hope you like the story today.

“Is he alright?”

“Not this again.”

“Someone should go talk to him.”

“I thought we were past this.”

Dr. Krill, Sunny, Dr Katie, Ramirez, and Maverick huddled outside the door to the observation platform looking inward to where the man stood in front of the window illuminated by a field of stars. His posture was eerily similar to how they had seen him once before, not long before a near breakdown had led him to take leave. Leave they weren’t entirely sure he would come back from.

They hoped this wouldn’t be like that, but this picture seemed all too familiar.

“Someone should go talk to him.” 

Four heads turned to face Sunny who turned the corners of her mouth down in the approximation of a frown, “Why me.”

“Well aren't you like…. His girlfriend.”

“Ex.”

Ramirez raised an eyebrow, “You guys have been pretty cuddly recently for exes.”

Sunny huffed, “The relationship has yet to be defined, but that's beside the point. Ramirez you’re his BFF or whatever you humans call it.”

Ramirez shook his head, “Me, no I think Maverick has this one. She’s all spiritual and what not, so she is like supposed to talk to people about their problems.”

Maverick snorted, “I’m a chaplain not a therapist. Talk to doctor Adric if you need that.” She turned to look to doctor Krill, “If anyone should be talking to him it’s you. You’ve been his friend the second longest and you are the most logical.”

Dr Krill waved a hand, “I am not equipped to handle your human issues.”

“That is such a cop-out answer.”

The squabble continued for a few minutes, until finally Sunny raised her voice, “Fne, fine, I will go talk to him. You all wait here.”

They quieted down clustering around the door as they watched Sunny move forward into the room. She took a deep breath and slowly approached coming up to stand beside him. She turned her head fearing what kind of expression she might find on his face, and was both surprised, relieved, and concerned to find he had an expression of puzzled concentration on his face, brows knit together, mouth turned down in a frown.

She reached up and rested a hand on his shoulder, “Hey, you alright.”

He turned his head to look up at her, “Hmmm, oh yeah…. Fine as I can be I suppose.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

His mouth turned up in a tight smile, “Only if you tell the others to stop loitering in the door and come help me out.” He raised his voice so that the others could hear and, in abashment, they headed into the room. Surprisingly Conn drifted in from the other side of the room where he had been spying from the other door.

They clustered together on one of the tables taking a seat as he turned to face them. He was smiling pleasantly, and the group glanced between each other in concern. It seemed like he was doing fine, but who were they to judge, they had been wrong before.

“Worried about me again I see.”

“I mean, you’ll forgive us. You have been…. Questionably erratic in the past.”

His smile continued,” I know, and I thank you, all for your concern about me. It is nice to know I have friends who I can count on.” He turned to look at Conn, “Go on, tell them.”

Conn floated off to the side ribbons undulating in his simulated zero gravity field, “He is stressed but not overly so.”

They nodded relieved.

He turned, putting his hands behind his back and began to pace. Hisback was straight and the way he walked was like a general examining his troops on the battlefield. “I admit that I have been distant, and I admit that in the past something like this would have overwhelmed me. I still FEEL overwhelmed though not in a drowning sort of way.” He turned the other direction, “I feel like I have been caught in an intergalactic game of chess where I am the king facing down a queen and her rooks.”

Sunny didn’t understand the metaphor but Krill certainly seemed to.

“I don’t have enough experience to play the game and so my movements are limited. But the chairwoman…. She’s a Rundi, and has trained for politics all her life in one way or another.” he turned back in the opposite direction. “And just like a king in chess I find myself the most important piece of a game that I cannot directly influence.”

They watched him pacing back and forth. They had never seen him like this, though it was better than the other options.

“I think you underestimate your position.” 

Admiral vir lifted his head, “And how is that?”

Dr Kate idly played with the ends of her hair as she thought, “Well, you know what she is planning. And she doesn't know that you know, which, I feel, gives you a leg up.”

He nodded, ‘And you are right, for sure, butI find the problem being that I’m not…. Smart enough to know how to use it.” He turned in the other direction, “I had my IQ tested at the academy you know…. Above average but nowhere close to genius, which I would need to be in order to play this sort of game.” He turned to eye krill, “We have a certified genius aboard the ship, but something tells me that politics wouldn’t be your strong suit.”

Krill shrugged rather abashedly. That was true enough.

“If only I had some sort of secret weapon.” 

***

Eris had never been off-world.

Noctopolis had been her home for as long as she could remember though the early days of her life had been spent inside a cage. She was Eunique, the only one of her kind, half human and half starborn, and sometimes, it felt, completely alone.

Despite her maturity, she was less than three years old, and had been grown at an enhanced rate inside a simulated womb using adapted DNA to configure her parts. She was completely unnatural, a freak of nature that had nothing to  do with nature. She was an unnatural abomination. And since they had been rescued, she had spend her days living and working for other people. The hybrids had needed a stable home,somewhere they could learn and grow and feel loved.

She had created that place, and provided that for a time, but she was growing exhausted.

Others had stepped in to help and volunteer. People from all over the galaxy had really shown their compassion in coming to her and either adopting the hybrids or offering to help and work athr foundation. A sweet LFIL couple (Tesraki and Human pair) had offered to take over for her as she was struggling to run what what essentially a business in some ways, though it was more a boarding house for the hybrids.

In the end there were only a few left who needed watching, and her burnout had been obvious to others.

She needed to get away.

To find her own path, but….. What was that?

Eris couldn’t survive in space like a starborn, that was well established, her bones and organ structures were like that of a human. The internal structures of a hybrid always had to be one way or another to avoid horrific malfunctions, so in most ways she was human.

Accept for her skin, and eyes of course which were starborn. She was as pale as alabaster and her eyes were wide and dark. This made her a freak to humans, so she kept her dark hair very long inorder to hide her face, which she grew more and more ashamed of by the day.

It didn’t help that she had the ability to read the thoughts of others, and knew better than anyone what people thought about her.

She wore a gravity belt sometimes since she found it felt better on her joints, but she had stopped when she left the foundation and struck out on her own. Today she wore a hoodie -- with the UNSC logo on it -- and very dark sunglasses. 

Final boarding call for flight 1427 to earth, Final boarding call.

Eris followed behind the tide of other humans pulling her luggage along behind her. She was tired, and her knees ached a little, but she supposed she was ok. Due to the nature of her eyes, she didn’t see very well as humans did, but reading the minds of others as a constant background in her head she was able to navigate better than anyone there as she knew when they were going to move on when they were going to stop. She maneuvered the tide of human bodies like no human could.

Again, Eris was mostly human. She didn’t hear though, and relied on others to do that for her, and she couldn't taste or smell either, but that was also something she could borrow.

Her senses lacked only what the people around her could and could not see.

She follow the boarding call with the other passengers and offered her ticket to the flight attendant.

The woman squinted under her hood rather suspiciously, but didn’t say anything. These space ports were well guarded, and Eris had already had to deal with other people staring at her when she went through security.

She followed the other humans onto the shuttle and took a seat. The floor glowed blue throbbi in time with the engine as she locked herself into her seat. Out the window she could see the surface of mars, Hazy grey in the distance with rough red plateau’s rising up in the distance.

It was strange to be in the human system, the genesis of half her ancestral line. SHe didn't know about her starborn half as she had never met one. She knew who her DNA donor had been in theory, though he had likely had his DNA stolen.

Eris doubted that he knew about her.

And then there was her human donor, Admiral Vir, the most famous human in the galaxy.

Eris Vir

She kind of liked that, though she never really used it, feeling he might see it as a breach of privacy. The man had been nothing but good to her the few times she had met him, and the one time he had saved her. She admired him a lot and wished she had a better relationship with him, though his job took him far away. She wasn’t the only one, most all of her hybrid brothers and sisters, who were part human,had been grown off his stolen DNA.

She was the only one, however, that seemed to care.

Eris Vir.

She sighed and leaned her head against the window.

What was she doing?

Below her the ground sped away as the automated safety system continued to give instructions.

“Preparing for warp.”

She held onto the seat feeling her insides churn as the warp sequence engaged. She jerked once against her seatbelt as te warp stopped, and below her she could see the glittering vista of the human homeworld.

Earth.

She pressed her face up to the window and gasped in awe.

It was beautiful blue and green swirled with delicate white clouds in churning spirals.

Herheart raced inside her chest.

This was it…. This is where it all began.

Preparing to dock on lunar 1 please remain in your seats until the seatbelt sign is off.

She waited patiently and stopped off with the others, walking out into the fifth spaceport of her trip, her suitcase rattling behind her.

She followed the sins to the proper docking station and waited for another shuttle that would take her to earth. It would be at least an hour for the next one to Mid-Mericanda, so she would have to wait.

She slumped in her seat and listened to the music of the girl next to hre. The music was ood, it had a nice beat.

When her boarding was called, she stood and followed onto another shuttle, which took her down through the atmosphere rattling and bouncing in her seat. She did her best to keep her hood covering her face as she stared out the window at the wondrous view below her. It was so bright!.

Noctopolis had no sunlight, but this was beautiful and colorful, and it looked so warm.

She didn’t see why everyone thought earth was so dangerous.

They touched down outside an Airport where she could see planes fuling for in-atmosphere flights, and stepped out onto the tarmac with wide eyes. Wides eyes under the radiation of the sun. Glorious, glorious heat, it warmed her through her sweatshirts and into her body making her drowsy and happy and warm. Her entire body felt energized, and even her knees seemed as if they were aching just a little less. She stood in the sun probably longer than she should have.

“Been a while since you’ve seen the sun huh?”

She jumped a little in surprise, which was unusual for her and turned to look at the human baggage attendant standing on the other side of the gate, “Oh yes…. A very…. Very long time.”

The smiling human tipped his hat at her, “Well enjoy your stay ma’am.”

She couldn’t help but smiling back thinking about how pleasant he was. His memories were warm, filled with sunny days spent with his family. It made her chest ache just to think of it as she turned and headed towards the baggage claim.

She picked up her bags just fine and then walked to stand just outside.

Suddenly very lost.

She looked up at the sky which  was a beautiful blue color she had never seen before and she breathed in the air of earth, Air thousands of years old, breath in by countless humans that had come before.

Eris frowned at herself. She needed to stop thinking of them as being so different from her. She was half human after all, even though her eyes and skin were a little strange. Still, it that moment she had never felt so alien, unsure of where to go or how to proceed.

“Need a lift. Lady.” 

She turned on the spot coming fact to face with a man leaning back against the hood of his strange yellow machine…. A taxi it seemed.

She searched or his intentions and heard nothing but his desire to work.

She walked over nervously and held up a small piece of paper, “I am looking for this address, do you know how I can get there.” He scanned the address with a chip implanted in his hand and then tilted his head to look down at his wrist as a map appeared. 

He chewed slowly on a wad of gum and blew a bubble, “Yeah I can get you there, can you pay.”

“Do you take credits?”

“Take anything as long as you meet the exchange value for dollars.”

She nodded, “I would like to be taken there then, please.”

The man nodded and touched his forehead helping her ut her suitcase in the back before opening the door for her. She climbed in, and h slid into the front seat pulling away and into traffic. Looking around she could see most of the vehicles didn’t touch the ground, though a few rolled on wheels. The high speeds at which they drove made her nervous and she clutched the harness holding her in place.

Below her she could see the city unfolding in a great sprawling vista. She stared, the architecture was so strange with sharp geometric lines mostly of steel and glass rising hundreds of feet into the air. They dropped lower into the city and eventually out to where lines and lines of similarly cut houses stood in sharp rows.

She had seen this in the memories of humans before but never thought shed see it.

They drove for a little longer until the houses gave way to sprawling fields and little tons until they pulled into a small place in comparison to the city, past a school and some other amenities before pulling in to another one of the subdivisions.

She recognized the house even though she had never seen it in person, and the Driver pulled to a stop.

She paid the man and stepped out of the car thanking him as he got her bag for her and then just drove off.

Eris was left standing alone on the quiet suburban  street under an earth sun. Though she was alone her mind was full of strange images, seen through the eyes of unusual creatures. It made her disoriented for a moment, but she quietly walked forward up the sidewalk and to the front door of the house.

She paused.

She could feel people inside, and knew that she was at the right palace, but she was nervous, how would they react to her. Would they even accept her existence?

What was she doing here?

It’s not like she was part of thor family, not by choice anyway.

She almost turned around but stopped and then raised a hand knocking softly on the door.

Eris held her breath and waited, footsteps approached the door, a man approaching thinking nothing more than one of his neighbors come to ask a question.

The door opened and Jim Vir looked down at her.

He was a tall intimidating man, one who had work hard all his life.

He tilted his head in that curious fashion humans had, “Can I help you?”

Nervously, Eris pushed back her hood and pulled off her sunglasses letting her long black hair roll down next to her face. The man’s eyes widened slightly in surprise, but the thought in his head was a little less than what she expected.

Another one

He frowned, “You’re…. Not a starborn ar you?”

Hedidn’t seem to think so recalling that Adam’s friend Conn couldn’t survive without a 0 gravity field.

She shuffled nervously, “No…. well yes…. I’m half starborn and half human.” 

Yep, another one.

To her surprise he smiled and opened the door, “You must be Eris then.”

She blinked, “You know about me/”

Dumb question as she could see Adam had told his parents about her. They even had a picture of the two of them together.

Despite hos scary he looked his thoughts and demeanor were pleasant as he opened the door to invite her in, “Guess this makes you my granddaughter in a way doesn’t it?”

“In the technical sense.” She said quietly smiling 

“Well Family is always welcome here.”

Isn’t that nice she thought.

She hoped it was going to work out

[cosmicjoke]

Okay, so here we go!  Chapter 1 of “No Regrets”!  

There’s a few things I want to point out about this chapter, because both visually and textually, we get a lot of information about the Underground and Levi, and his relationship with Isabel and Furlan.  So I’ll just go through it.

The first thing that really caught my attention for this chapter was the opening page, which is a retrospective shot of Levi after he’s joined the SC, thinking about how he can’t ever know what the results of his choices are going to be.  He says here “I trusted in my own strength... I trusted in the decisions of comrades who had earned my faith...”  And this quote from Levi is really important in later understanding why he makes the choice he does, at the end.  He says he trusted in the decisions of comrades who had earned his faith, and that tells us that Levi believes in Furlan and Isabel, that he believes in their strength and their capability, that he believes in them enough to let them choose for themselves and trust in their judgement.  We’ll obviously delve more into this as it becomes more relevant to the story.  But moving on...

The next thing to catch my attention is the panels of the Underground we see.  These are probably the best shots of this place we get in the whole series, as it really depicts a place that is totally run down and dilapidated, with buildings falling apart and crumbling in disrepair, filth ridden streets with literal sewage water coming out of drain pipes, and a actual cave cover overhead, complete with stalactites, blocking out all sunlight except for few and far between pockets which break through holes in the rock ceiling.  The most telling panels though are the ones which depict the violence and poverty of the place.  We see a panel of a homeless man passed out on the street, painfully thin looking, and under him, two men in a fight, one beating the other violently.  And the next panel shows us a little girl, sitting barefoot on the ground between two men who have just blown each other’s brains out with guns.  Truly, this is a violent, dark, poverty-stricken place that breeds crime and depravation.  The pages before this say that BECAUSE of the splendor of the Capital city above the Underground, this place exists, and that’s accurate.  Because of the excesses and decadence of the rich and well off above these people rejected by society, that means fewer resources for the less fortunate.  It’s truly tragic.  

Alright, now I just want to move on to some small, but telling moments here while Levi and the others are being chased by Erwin and his crew.  

When Isabel is bragging about how the MP’s never learn, referring to how they’ll never be able to catch their gang, she asks Levi if what she said was cool.  Levi tells her “Don’t be stupid.”  This might seem like Levi just blowing her off, but the way I read it, it seems more to me like Levi is warning her not to be cocky, not to be over confident, because that’s the kind of thing that can get you killed, or caught.  Big Bro indeed!   We also see how mindful Levi is here as a leader, when he tells them they can’t afford to lead the soldiers following them straight to their hideout, and clearly they have a plan in place for just this sort of thing.

More importantly, Levi is fast to realize these aren’t ordinary soldiers after them, which shows his great instincts, but what’s really interesting is his internal thoughts here.  His logic is telling him regular MP’s wouldn’t work this hard to catch them, and that their skill with the ODM means they must be SC.  But Levi doesn’t really believe it which, given what we later find out about the deal with Lobov, and Lobov warning them of Erwin’s plans, tells us that Levi never really believed the SC would come after them.  He’s clearly surprised here.

Further, after informing Isabel and Furlan and confirming his suspicions, he tells Furlan that he’s got no intention of getting mixed up with “these guys”.  This tells us Levi never wanted to go through with Furlan’s plans, never wanted to join the SC, never wanted anything to do with any of it.  There’s further evidenced in this very chapter, which I’ll get to in a moment.  But it tells us a lot about the dubious feelings Levi had from the start, and how he probably would have simply been happiest to stay in the Underground with his friends, even though it was a hard life.  

Alright, so, this next part is a big deal, and it’s an overlooked detail which speaks volumes about the kind of person Levi is.  I didn’t even notice this the first time I read it, so I want to talk about it.  Levi separates from Isabel and Furlan, and takes Erwin and Mike on a wild chase through the back alley’s and narrow passages of the slums.  He really tries to give them the run around here, until he flips over a door, into another area.  What’s really important here is Levi’s dialog.  He says first “... Lost ‘em, huh?”  And then he says, “That got a little crazy...  I hope... none of them crashed.”  This is kind of amazing.  Levi is showing actual concern for the two soldiers who’d just attempted to catch him and his friends, who were doggedly pursuing them with obviously bad intentions of some kind.  And Levi, after having to resort to some serious ODM skills to shake them, says he hopes that none of them crashed.  He doesn’t want Erwin or Mike to get hurt, he just wants to get away from them.  Considering he doesn’t know either of them at this point, they’re just nameless, faceless military dogs trying to mess things up for him, that shows remarkable character.  

Of course, things go downhill from there, when Mike crashes through the door and tackles him.  All bets are off then, because Levi’s life is now in danger, and when that happens, he’ll resort to physical force.  Still, he only throws Mike off of him and once again attempts to get away, only for it to be Erwin who swoops down and cuts Levi’s cables.  This was actually really dangerous.  Given Levi’s momentum and position, he crashes hard into a nearby wall before falling to the ground.  So we already see some of that ruthlessness from Erwin here.  Of course, that spurs Levi into violence himself.  I have no doubt that when Levi lunges for Erwin and knocks his blade away, bringing his knife to his neck, he truly intended to kill him in that moment.  Levi’s compassion for these soldiers can only go so far, considering the desperation of his own circumstances.  If Mike hadn’t been there to stop it, I think Levi probably would have ripped Erwin’s jugular right out, and that would have been that, lol.  And then, it’s important to note too WHY Levi stops.  Not because Mike was able to physically restrain him, but because he tells Levi to look around himself, directing his attention to the fact that Furlan and Isabel have been caught.  That immediately stays Levi’s hand, and once again, we’re shown how Levi puts the wellbeing of his friends above himself.  He could have ditched Furlan and Isabel right then and there and escaped on his own.  Instead, he allows himself to be restrained and cuffed.  He refuses to abandon them.

Now the next scene is hugely important to a lot of stuff.

Erwin’s got Levi and his friends down on their knees, in the sewage, questioning them about their ODM skills, and the three of them stay silent, obviously defiant.  We really get a good look at Erwin’s abilities as a manipulator here.

He’s pulling the whole good cop/bad cop routine on Levi, when he tells him “I’d like to avoid any rough treatment if I can” before looking to Mike in a clear signal for Mike to pretty damn violently tear Levi’s head back by his hair before smashing his face into the sewage on the ground.  And this really IS sewage.  It’s not mud.  If you look at the panels, we see this brown muck coming out of drain pips attached to the surrounding buildings.  This water is probably, literally, dirty with feces, and Erwin has Mike put Levi’s face in this and hold it there.  Now let’s remember something important about Levi.  He’s a clean freak.  He obviously cares deeply about keeping both himself and his environment clean.  Erwin couldn’t know this about him at the time, but nobody of course would be happy about having their face shoved into literal shit.  But for Levi, I can only imagine this had to be tantamount to a kind of torture.  Erwin keeps questioning him, looking down at him without any kind of emotion, and Levi remains stubbornly silent, despite how awful this must truly be for him.  We get a close up of Levi’s eye in one of the panels, paralleled with Erwin’s own, and Levi’s expression really strikes me as one of awful humiliation.  He goes from looking up at Erwin in rage, to looking away, staring straight ahead, while Erwin keeps looking down at him.

Still, Levi says nothing, and it’s Isabel who finally cracks, telling Erwin that they didn’t learn to use ODM from anyone, with Furlan further explaining that they taught themselves as a means of survival.  He remarks that “anyone who doesn’t know what sewage tastes like couldn’t understand!”.  Clearly, both of them are really upset to see this being done to Levi, and I have to imagine it’s at least in part because they know how awful an experience this has to be for him, given that they know how much he desires to stay clean.  Their shocked expressions when Mike first pushes Levi’s face into the sewage says as much too.

But still, Levi remains silent as Erwin then demands to know Levi’s name.  What Mike does to Levi in the next panel is even worse.  He pushes his face into the sewage and holds him there until Levi literally starts to choke in it, for long enough that, when he finally does pull him up, Levi is gasping for breath.  I really don’t see people talk enough about this scene, but, well...

It’s a torture scene.  Erwin is ordering Mike to torture Levi here.  It may not be the most extreme form of torture, it isn’t the type of physical violence we typically think of when we think of torture, but that’s what it is.  It’s causing Levi both physical and mental degradation, as well as physical distress.  

Even with this though, Levi’s still silent and refuses to answer Erwin at all.  

It’s only when Erwin literally threatens the lives of Furlan and Isabel that he finally talks.  This is such an important detail.  Levi was willing to take what to him must have been truly horrific treatment, but as soon as Erwin gives the signal to the other two Scouts who have hold of his friends, we see Levi’s expression shift from defiant rage to wide eyed fear as they put their blades to Furlan’s and Isabel’s throats.  

Finally Levi talks, calling Erwin a “bastard”, to which Erwin simply asks him again what his name is, and after a slight hesitation, Levi finally gives it.  

I think this entire scene is vital in understanding WHY Levi was so violently pissed at Erwin, to the point of wanting to kill him.

I think it’s a combination of both the humiliation and torture he puts Levi through here, and, worse still, the fact that he threatens Isabel and Furlan’s lives.  Levi already feels looked down upon by Erwin here, he already feels humiliated and embarrassed and as though he’s being treated like he’s worthless, because Erwin IS treating him like that here.  All while Erwin stands there, expressionless, making statements like he doesn’t want to have to use any rough treatment, etc... while at the same time ordering Mike to do just that.  Already, Erwin is sending Levi the message that he’s a liar and a manipulator who thinks nothing of putting another human being’s face in shit.  And then, to top that off, he shows Levi that he’s willing to hurt, maybe even kill, his two friends to get what he wants.

Is it any wonder Levi hated Erwin as much as he did at the beginning?  After a lifetime in the Underground where, from the time of his birth, he had to deal with him and those he cares about being treated like worthless trash.  It would be a miracle if Levi DIDN’T want to kill Erwin at this point.  To have to then submit to him willingly, after all of that, must have been beyond humiliating for him.

Erwin continues to be manipulative here too, when after Levi gives his name, Erwin’s attitude suddenly shifts, and he smiles at Levi and gets down on one knee with him, in the filth, his entire demeanor seeming to shift into an abruptly friendly one as he offers his deal to Levi.  Again, that whole good cop/bad cop thing.  At the same time, he continues to threaten Levi by telling him if he refuses his offer, he’ll hand them all over to the MP’s and that, given their crimes, they shouldn’t expect to be treated with any kind of decency.  What’s kind of funny about this statement from Erwin is that up until now, Erwin and Mike have done anything but treat Levi decently. 

Okay, one more important point to make about this chapter, and it goes back to what I said earlier about Levi not wanting anything to do with the SC, and how that tells us Levi really didn’t want to go through with Furlan’s plans.

After Erwin makes his offer, we see Levi look over at Furlan, who’s giving him an intent look, and in the next panel, we see an almost surprised, or astonished look on Levi’s face, like he can’t believe Furlan is asking him to do this, before he grits his teeth in obvious frustration, and then accepts Erwin’s offer to join the SC.  What this tells us is that Levi only takes Erwin’s offer because Furlan wanted him to.  Because this was all part of Furlan’s plan, to go through with Lobov’s commission, to get caught by the SC, etc...  It’s clear Levi never wanted this, and he’s upset at having to do it.  But the fact he agrees after looking over at Furlan and seeing him implore Levi with his eyes tells us, once again, that Levi is willing to sacrifice his own desires for the desires of others.  That being his two friends.

For them, he’ll join the Survey Corps, even as every one of his instincts is probably screaming at him that this is a bad idea.

Anyway, those are my thoughts for the first chapter of “No Regrets”.  There’s a lot more to unpack in this manga than I think people realize.  I hope whoever took the time to read my long ass post found it at least a little worth while.  I’ll be moving on to chapter two next!

[floatinginwords]

Saved by the Devil (7/?) - Tommy Shelby

Summary: You have a talk with some friends and get a little job offered

Paring: Tommy Shelby x fem!reader (Not romantic...yet)

A/n: this took me so long to write. I hope you like it. Have a wonderful day:)

You walked through the streets on London feeling lost and uneasy. The state record of your father was there, written officially: he was declared dead. You felt like you were going crazy for not even trusting the piece of evidence. You asked the secretary about a million questions about how they even go about certifying a death. The woman looked at you as if you were crazy and you probably looked it. None of the cuts were healed, parts of your face were beginning to bruise, and the stich on your hand was horrendous. At least you didn’t reek of alcohol. It bothered you that the certificate under cause of death read “suicide”. You distinctly remember Sabini tell you that your father had got himself killed.

 ‘Why stage it like a suicide and then tell the underworld you killed him? Couldn’t you have just paid the cops to look the other way?’ A million more questions swarmed your way non of which the secretary could answer.

 And so you left the place walking slowly back home feeling odd. Dead is dead right you don’t need the details. You don’t want them. You tell yourself this as you get home, telling yourself that the uneasy feeling was from the physical night before not because someone was watching you.  

 ‘I’m not safe staying here’ You think to yourself. You start fantasizing about all the different places you could disappear to, the new life you could create for yourself. You just needed enough money to so. That wad of cash underneath your bed was good for a boat ride and hotel stay, not for entire life change. You were gonna need to start saving and earning, more fast. The air was changing and not for the better.

 Once you get home, you can see a lamp on in the window. You try to walk past the figure sitting in the living room, but their voice rings out stopping you from making another move.

 “(Y/n), we need to talk.” Ada says.

 “What about?” you ask sitting opposite of her in the living room.

 “Its about Tommy,” she pauses a minute trying to gauge your reaction, you don’t give any. She sighs, “I just want you to be careful around him.”

 You raise an eyebrow, confused from where this is coming from. “What do you mean?”

 “I mean are you gonna keep coming home looking half dead with my brother having to carry you in here with no sort of explanation?”

 “I’m sorry about that.” You apologize knowing she must have been scared out of her mind seeing you like that. You would have been too had it been her or Trinity.

 “What are you even thinking working for him? Didn’t you want out of your father business, aren’t you on some guys shit list?” Ada takes a deep breath calming herself.

 “I have it under control.” You can hear Ada groan in frustration. You understand why she was so defensive about this. Her family was dangerous and to be around them was like being around death itself. At least that’s how Ada put it.

 “No you don’t just look at yourself!” She sternly says, pointing a finger at you.

 You stifle a laugh from your throat at how motherly she looks, “Ada, please save the parenting for Karl.”

 She rolls her eyes at your jest and gets up from the couch. “Are you gonna work for him again?”

 “If I need the money...”

 “I told you don’t have to pay rent while you stay here. You can take as long as you need to find steady job.”

 You fake a smile and nod your head, “You’re right.” You didn’t want to bring up the unease you’ve been feeling. Or the need to flee the country based on a little paranoia that may just go away. It was unfair to her to place  this burden upon her when she's finally made it out of feeling that way herself. But you’ll be damned if you weren’t gonna at least prepare yourself for the uncertain future.

  *******************************************************************************************

Trinitys apartment was the same as it always has been. Neat to the point where it looked picture perfect. You always wondered when she had the time to keep tidy. You arrived early in the morning, knowing she would be up and that it would be the perfect time to cross into what you thought was still sabinis territory.

 “You know your friend took over the Eden Club. I haven’t seen any of Sabini guys in awhile” Trinity says attempting to ease you as you keep looking out the window.

 “who?”

 “The Shelby’s. I think it was his brother or whatever. I wasn’t there when it happened but I heard it was brutal.”

 “What did sabini do?” You ask.

 “no one heard from him or Alistair.” She states

 “Hmm.” You say finding it odd the gangster hadn’t retaliated yet

 “You know you can maybe work there again? If you asked nicely? The Shelby’s seem to like you.”

 “What makes you say that?”

 “Oh please I was the first person ada called to tell me about you running off with her brother. Did you know they were related?”

 “No.”

 She notices your lack of words. And though trinity wanted to be playful and tease her friend, she was worried.

 “Are you okay, (Y/n)?”

 “Im thinking of leaving, trinity.” You say

 “Why? Where are you going?”

 “Nowhere. Im just thinking.” You sip your tea lightly, feeling the soothing warmth go down your throat, “Something feels wrong.”

 “What is it?”

 “I fear that something nefarious is upon me. And that it’s a matter of time before It decides to kill me.”

 “You’re not gonna tell me, are you?”

 “I need your help planning.” You say ignoring her questions. You didn’t want to subject her to your nightmares about your father which haven’t ceased at all. In face they were increasing in violence and color. Most of them drawing from memories. If it wasn’t your father that was alive coming to hunt you down, it was most likely a dedicated servant of his. You wondered who was was keeping the business going seeing as you didn’t take over and were the only child of your father. You had no other logical explanation of what the universe was trying to tell you with these dreams and gut feelings.

 You open your purse revealing the wad of money from underneath your bed and papers of different id. “Your gonna hold this for me. When I need it ill come for it, if I add to it ill come here okay? Just make sure it stays hidden and untouched.”

She nods and takes it gently from your hands, “You’re being serious.”

 “Deadly.”

 You stood for a couple more hours, talking and eating until the afternoon came. You said your goodbyes and were on your way back on the streets of London. You felt good about yourself after seeing Trinity. It felt like years since you seen her.

 You hear the honking of an annoying horn bring you out of your thoughts. You see Tommy Shelby behind the wheel, a cocky grin on his face. He parks the car and you wait for him outside not wanting to sit in close proximity of him. He comes around, outing a cigarette loosely around his pink lips. He doesn’t light it.

 “I was looking for you at Adas.” He says standing in front of you with hands in his pockets.

 “Hmm why?” You ask.

 “How are your stiches?”

 “Fine,” your face grows warm as you think about the drunken thoughts you had about him. You had them caged up this time but you were now very aware of the fact that you had them, “what is that you want?” you ask avoiding his eyes, afraid of getting lost in them. You could not afford to grow any sort of attachment to the man. The stories you’ve heard, the warning you’ve gotten from his own sister, you know that he was no good.

 “Take a ride with me.” He simply says walking away from you.

 Your legs move before you think. Following his words like a sailor would a siren. You suddenly felt very self conscious around the man as you sat near him.

 “Where is this coming from?” You think to yourself feeling stupid you begin to argue with yourself in your head trying to find the soure of this new unwanted attraction. Maybe you were still drunk. No its been days. Or maybe you were tired. Sleep has been hard to comeby these days.

 You look across at him and study his features. He was a very handsome man, no doubt about it. You don’t realize how long you’ve been staring until he catches you.

 “What?” He asks

 “Have you called May?” Your not sure why your mind went to that but it was.

He chuckles, “Are you really that interested in that?”

 “No, im just making conversation.”

 “Well I did. Ill be seeing her later this week. See how shes training my horse.” He sends a smile your way before his eyes go back to the road.

 The smile sends your stomach doing flips. “You know your not as scary as people make you seem, Mr.Shelby.” Another statement slipping from your lips.

 “Trust me, I can be scary. Hand me that file”

 He parks the car in front of lovely looking house, a guard standing outside the gates of it. You hand him the file, next to you on the seats and he fiddles through it. You stare at the house with the guard in front of it through the rearview mirror.

 “Why are we parked here?” You ask you eyes trained to the rearview mirror

 “Had to make a stop.”

 You see the guard notice the car and head towards you. He walks toward your window and leans in. “Sir,” The guard says totally ignoring your presence, “You cant park here.”

 “Apologies, me and the Mrs. were just lost.”

 “Well get a move on.” Thomas starts the car and moves it one block a way before parking again. He checks his watch.

 “23 seconds,” He say to himself writing it down, “Are you gonna ask any questions?”

 “I think I would rather leave this one alone.”

 “Smart girl.”

 You end up driving 2 more hours around the city. He tells you about the Eden club takeover and how his brother Arthur is now running the game there. Sabini hasn’t been seen inawhile. Nor his most trustworthy comapnions

 “Do you know Alfie solomons?” He asks

 “I do.” Alfie Solomon’s to you was an unpredictable man, You never could predict what he was gonna say.

 “I was gonna have Arthur have dinner with him alone. But Arthur doesn’tknow Solomon’s too well.”

 “Mr. Shelby-“

 “I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t need to.” His eyes burn into your skull. You take all the self control you have to not turn your head and stare into them.

 You think about the proposition and grow very hesitant. A part of you wants to take it and another part doesn’t. Quick money could be very useful to you but at what cost if its for situations like this. A dinner with gangsters could become deadly very quickly with one wrong move.

 “When is this dinner?”

 “Friday.”

 “Ill give you answer before than” You say seeing it was Tuesday. You open the door to the car and walk out of it. You were beginning to suffocate under his stare and you needed to breath.

 The air was crisp and refreshing to your lungs as you speedy walk down the streets making lefts and rights. The annoying horn returns to your ears as soon as you feel calm. You turn back around to scream when you realize its not the same car. It’s a black car with weird, tinted window, almost like a police car. The windows roll down, revealing a man with grey, busy eyebrows and mustache. His eyes held an evil glint in them

 (Y/fn) (y/ln)?” He asks do it looked like he already knew the answer in his head that he knew who he had.

 “Sorry wrong gal.” You lie turning around to get out for whatever situation that was.

 “Get her boys.” You hear the man sigh. You feel large hands grab around your body and large funny smelly napkin forced against your mouth.

 ‘Chloroform’ you think as you pass out into the darkness.

Read pt.8

Tags

@captivatedbycillianmurphy @enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat @evelyn-4034

[prettywordsyouleft]

To Be Continued - Part 4

Summary: As an author, you had created Brian Kang for your current trilogy series to represent the ultimate man that everyone would love, along with Charli Evers - your female protagonist. What you hadn’t expected was for him to find a way out of the story and begin shaping up your world instead

Pairing: Brian Kang x female writer (ft. Park Sungjin)

Genre: writer au / romance / fantasy

Warnings: fictional characters coming to life / a bit of angst here and there / Sungjin as a cop (or does that only affect me?) >_>

Word count: 2262

Preview | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | Epilogue

When you eventually came around again, you let out an immediate giggle when you found yourself on your living room’s couch, a pair of concerned eyes peering down at you. They widened with your sudden noise, blinking some to try and figure out why you had laughed.

“The hallucinations are continuing,” you mentioned with another laugh, this time sounding more desperate than the first.

“I’m really here, though.”

“Of course, you are.” Sitting up, you flinched when Brian’s hand reached out to help you do so, your focus snapping down to where he had touched you. It had felt normal, as if a human had supported you just now.

But this wasn’t humanly possible. No one ever in the history of mankind had written a novel and their characters came to life!

… Had they?

“Stop overthinking it,” Brian mentioned, observing you carefully.

“Do you read thoughts too?”

“No.”

“Then I truly did well to create you as someone who can pick up on most moods and emotions,” you replied, nodding again as you chuckled. You then clasped your face within your hands and whined loudly. “I’m going insane!”

“You will go mad if you keep this up,” Brian pointed out, and you peeked through your hands, stilling from your dramatic outburst. Staring at him, you lowered your barrier slowly and took him in.

There was no plausible explanation for how this had happened. And yet, you were there when it did. Nothing made sense, aside from how well your description had brought Brian to life. You marvelled the man over, instinctively reaching out to touch the mole on his neck. Directing your gaze up to his, Brian tipped his head with encouragement.

“Keep exploring,” he urged. His permission seemed to snap you out it, your hand returning to your lap hastily. Brian sighed. “This wasn’t how I imagined our first meeting.”

“No?” you asked, a little detachedly. Your mind was still whirling at a fast pace over all of this.

Could you have come across this man before in your life and subconsciously modelled your character off of him? That still didn’t explain how Brian had gotten into your home in the first place. You were grasping at straws here, trying to rationalise the situation.

Even if you were a dreamer by nature, this was something else.

“Should I explain how I came to exist?” Brian offered, and you nodded once before holding up your hand to stop him.

“Wait. I need to some supplies first!” you announced, getting up with a bit of a wobble and headed back to your office. Snatching your phone and a pen and paper off the desk, you dashed back into the living room, where you stopped suddenly, Brian staring back at you.

He’s still here, you thought to yourself in disbelief, walking at a much slower pace back to the couch Brian now sat cross-legged upon. You eyed him warily as you sat down.

Looking at your supplies, Brian smirked. “What are you planning to do?”

“Take some evidence,” you answered, quickly snapping a photo with your phone’s camera. Brian was disorientated, leaning away from you as you took another two.

“Can’t I at least prepare for the photos first?”

“Don’t go giving me any crap about needing to present your best side. The Brian Kang I created doesn’t have one. He looks good all over,” you muttered, opening the gallery and clicking through the photos you had taken. Even if the pose was awkward, he still looked handsome.

You laughed incredulously once more. He actually appeared in them. After inspecting them as well, Brian rolled his eyes. “I’m not a ghost. Of course, I’d appear in them.”

“Okay,” you said, opening up the voice recording app on your phone and placed the device between you both. Brian shot you a look of annoyance, and you challenged it back as you picked up your pen and paper. “Now, you can start.”

“I think I began to have conscious thoughts at the end of Encounter,” he admitted, and you scribbled down the title of your first novel with him, circling it for effect. You blinked away from your note-taking to look up at him.

“What do you mean? Conscious thoughts?”

“Well, you’re the writer, aren’t you?” Brian smiled, and you tried not to become too captivated by how perfect it was. “I’m not supposed to do anything unless you direct me to, right?”

“Sometimes the story seems to write itself, but I’m still in some control of it.”

He nodded. “The end of the story meant there was nothing else for me to do. Whilst I was frozen in place, my mind continued. Why did everything stop there? Who was I and why couldn’t I continue to live through all this?”

“You had thoughts like that then?” Brian nodded, and you let out a shaky breath. “Woah.”

“Then you must have started Captivated because, for some time, I was too busy fighting my way through to Charli. However, it would be during the scenes where I wasn’t present that I would find myself wondering why I was chasing her around. Just who was she to me? Even though I could move, and my reactions felt sincere, I couldn’t fathom why it had to be her. My life was already hard enough, and yet I was forever looking towards a girl who came from another world than I had.”

You smiled fondly. “Charli Evers is the daughter of a conglomerate in power of changing the nation. Meanwhile, you’re her bodyguard from a less than desirable background.”

“Let’s not visit my dark past right now, shall we?” Brian mentioned with some unease, and you nodded before you gasped. Brian frowned. “What?”

“You really do know the story!”

“When are you going to stop freaking out over my existence? Don’t you want the so-called proof?” he wondered with an impatient tone, causing you to snap your mouth shut. Brian sighed before continuing. “As I waited for scenes to change, I realised I couldn’t understand my world at all. Why did I have such a troubling back story? Surely, if I were real, no one would have faced what I had in one lifetime, let alone in ten years of my life.”

You didn’t quite meet his eyes then, looking at his shirt button that was undone to avoid the accusing tone that was laced within his latter sentences.

“And of all the men in the world, why was Charli so drawn to me?”

“That’s how star crossed lovers work, Brian,” you told him in a quiet voice. He merely scoffed and you gaped at him. “Look, I’m sorry that for you to be seen as a troubled protagonist I gave you some hard experiences but this is my story and it’s loved by thousands around the world.”

“Really?!” he asked as his eyes shot open, soon shaking his head. “The outside world is really strange.”

“You’re telling me,” you mumbled as you looked him up and down again. Brian cocked his head to the side, and you waved him off to carry on.

“It was then when I started to try and find ways not to do as I felt I had to. And there were a couple of times where I succeeded.”

“The gala!” you mentioned, and Brian smirked with acknowledgment. “I had such a hard time reshaping my plans because you stubbornly wouldn’t seem to get into the right mood!”

“That’s when I realised the people around me weren’t real.”

“They’re very much so real in that world!” you countered, and Brian shot you an unamused look. You glowered at him. “I haven’t worked hard all year as I have for you to sit here and say my characters aren’t realistic!”

“I didn’t mean they weren’t realistic, simply that they’re what you just called them, characters.”

“Be careful, you’re one too,” you grumbled, and Brian clapped his hands together. You gaped at him once again. “You do that when you want to keep Charli on topic! Are you treating me like her right now?!”

“You’re going off on a tangent. I offered you my side of things, and you’re too busy trying to defend people who don’t even know what they really are.”

“I once watched a TV series about characters in a comic book coming to their senses,” you murmured, turning pale. “How did that end again?”

“Y/N.” Glancing up at Brian, he shot you a comforting smile. “Please let me finish before you start trying to find ways to blow this out of proportion.”

“Because talking to you right now and being in your presence is completely logical.”

“I’ll ignore your sassy remark,” he warned and cleared his throat. “I started to grow aware of your presence. As if you were in the background of each moment pulling all the strings. I yearned to know more about you, and sometimes I would hear you talking to yourself about the scene you were struggling with.”

“You heard me?”

Brian nodded. “Quite often over the last couple of months, I believe it’s been.”

“How did you find your way to getting out here and helping me when I was sick?”

“Admittedly, I guessed there was at least a script somewhere controlling us. Then you got sick and left your computer on. It was the first time you had left the document open like that.”

“So let me guess. Whilst I slept, you found a way to find the script, realised there was another world outside of yours and reached out for it.”

“You called me out, Y/N.”

“Okay, now we’re really getting to the implausible here.”

Brian didn’t react to your disbelief. Instead, he stared at you in earnest. “Don’t you remember? You wished for me to help you take you to bed.”

“You… picked up on that?” you breathed out incredulously, and Brian couldn’t help but allow some amusement to curl up his lips further.

“Dream men are just that, Y/N. Brian Kang would never exist in this world,” he recited as if he had heard it in the past. Your hands rose to your mouth when you realised you had said that. Brian grinned. “Be careful about what you wish for, Y/N. Looks like I can exist in this world after all.”

You needed some fresh air, and after telling Brian so, you dashed out into your backyard, blinking rapidly when you realised how late into the night it was. Staring up into the inky world above, you tried to find some clarity within your situation.

Brian, in some form, seemed to exist. And he had not only looked after you when you were ill but had been messaging you somehow from within your computer. The document seemed to change because of his influence and all of this had started with your lack of energy to follow your usual pattern of shutting down the device at the end of the night.

Glancing back towards your house, you shivered. Had you left it open earlier, could there have been a chance Brian would have somehow come through the screen then?

“The concept of him coming out of such a small laptop is laughable,” you told the universe above, and yet it didn’t show you any signs to debunk the evidence you had either.

Although you were troubled and had so many more questions for the man inside your home, there was a sense of comfort that came the longer you spent your time with him. You had done so for countless months so far as his writer, and after the initial shock of the situation, you realised he felt like a home to you.

You then gasped noisily. Could this have happened with Jinyoung in Destined too, had you let it? Were all your characters out there holding different truths than the ones you had given them or was Brian the only one?!

Marching back inside, you walked into your office and opened up the first Destined document. And then you raised your hands to the heavens and nodded firmly. “Come out, Park Jinyoung!”

“What on earth are you doing?” a voice called from the doorframe, and you squealed with fright, stumbling over your desk chair and reached out for the table to save yourself. Brian’s hands quickly encircled your waist and pulled you upright, breathing heavily after moving to your side so fast to save you.

Staring up at the man who held you, you searched his face for signs of this being a trap. Perhaps the warning bells were muted in your mind the longer you appreciated Brian. He truly was the biggest self-indulgence you had succumbed to. And as you took him in for the umpteenth time tonight, you realised he was incredibly dangerous for you.

There was a reason you had dreamed him into existence in the first place. He was the person you had wanted to fill your world. And now that he was here, physically here, and holding you, some of the parts in his story didn’t need to add up anymore.

“You okay, Y/N?”

“You saved me,” you spoke, and Brian nodded.

“I wouldn’t let you fall if I could stop it,” he told you, his lips spreading out into the most beautiful smile you had ever witnessed in your life before.

You knew in that moment that you would blur every line there was to make sure Brian Kang didn’t go back to wherever he had come from.

You wanted him to hold you like this forever.

_________________

Part 5

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[DAY6 Masterlist] | [Main Masterlist] | [Request Guidelines]

[fanfalc-616]

Okay I have a new AU!! It’s called...

The Rights Of A Nindroid

This is chapter one!

Thanks to @occasionalincorrectquotes ,@321bluegalaxy , @ablackswansweet , and @akwardalienbean for giving me ideas (:<

When Zane wakes up that morning, the Bounty is quiet- likely because he gets up about an hour before the others usually do.

After checking the refrigerator, he decides to pick up some groceries for the team, despite it being Cole’s turn- the black ninja typically comes back with a surplus of junk food and relatively little amounts of healthy ingredients, no matter what Zane puts on the actual shopping list.

Messaging the others in order to inform them that he’ll be back shortly after their normal breakfast time, he heads out to the store, enjoying the quietness of the early morning.

He only makes it a few blocks away before a cop car pulls up beside him. Frowning, he pauses. Is there some kind of criminal roaming around here? Perhaps he could help apprehend them.

Two cops get out of the car, and Zane decides to voice the idea. “Is there a problem, officers?” He prompts. “Do you need assistance with it?”

The first cop- a brunet only just shorter than Zane- starts to speak. “I’m sorry about this, but we’re going to need-“

The second cop- a short blond- glares at the first as he interupts. “Actually, yeah, we could use your help. You’re the white ninja, right? Zane? It would be great if we could have your help with a government… “ He pauses a moment. “...project.”

The pause is somewhat concerning, but likely not a real issue. “I would be happy to assist.” He smiles. “If you tell we the location, I could have my teammates join us and also-“

“It would be better if it was just you.” The brunet interrupts.

The other cop nods. “It’s a low profile thing.” He agrees. “And no offense to your teammates, but they usually grab a lot of attention.”

With a small chuckle, Zane nods. “That they do. If it is low profile, would it be better for me to ride with you? Or should I get a vehicle of my own?”

The brunet starts heading back to the car. “It would be better if you rode with us.” He decides.

So Zane gets in the back of the car, letting the two cops take charge of directions. Unsure of what level of volume would be appropriate, he elects to remain silent to avoid a possibly uncomfortable situation.

Soon enough, they reach an odd-looking facility that appears to belong to the government- and strangely enough, a quick GPS check shows that the site is non-existent, implying that it is a top-secret base of some sort.

Getting out of the car, Zane lets himself be led into the facility, warily eyeing the large number of security guards swarming the area.

“May I have more information on what this ‘project’ is?” He prompts, hand coming down to brush against one of his shurikens.

“We can talk more inside.” The taller cop tells him as they go up the doors. In order to get inside, he uses three complex key patterns, a vocal recognition pattern sensor, and a form of facial recognition scanner.

“That is quite elaborate.” Zane notes. “I take it this project is important.”

But he doesn’t say anything more on the matter when he’s taken back, nor when they insist on confiscating his weapons. The shurikens don’t matter all that much anyway, he is well versed in multiple martial arts.

As he’s led through the halls, he could almost swear that he can hear distant muffled screaming. But no one else seems to be affected, so he brushes it off as some distorted echo. After all, this is a government facility. It would be highly unlikely for something illegal enough to cause that much pain to be happening in a place like this.

Once taken into a medium-sized room- a room that has a mirror that is likely actually of one way glass- he is instructed to sit at a table, directly across from a government official.

“Hello, Zane.” The woman smiles. “I’m going to ask you a few questions. It’s going to be important for you to answer truthfully.”

Zane nods his confirmation, accompanying it with a verbal one. “I will answer them to the best of my ability.” After a moment of thought, he decides that it would be best to wait on asking his own queries until after they have asked theirs.

“Thank you. What was your creator’s full name?”

“Doctor Julien.” Zane answers the question without pause.

The woman shakes her head. “His full, legal name.” She corrects, glancing over at the mirror. The minor action confirms that it is, in fact, one way glass.

With a blink of surprise, Zane answers the question. He’s asked several more, all about his father and any possible relatives he may have. The second piece is negatory; his father was an only child and far too old for any immediate family members to be alive.

After six minutes and nine seconds, the woman smiles again. “Thank you, Zane. Someone will be back with you shortly.”

With that, she gets up and heads out, leaving Zane behind.

Puzzled by the questions and events, Zane attempts to send a message to his boyfriends in order to inform them that he will be later than he had expected- but strangely enough, it doesn’t go through. Frowning, he tries a second time, but he once again fails.

That’s mildly concerning, but likely has a logical explanation. Perhaps no one here can send messages as a way to increase the difficulty of hacking. Given the secrecy he has already seen, that would be reasonable.

So he waits patiently at the table, occasionally sneaking stealthy glances at the one way glass. Something about this situation seems suspicious, but there’s likely no real cause to it. Perhaps he has adopted part of Jay’s paranoid nature.

A smile finds him at the humorous thought, but before he has the chance to think on it further, the door to the room opens, and a new official walks in.

“Zane, it’s… nice to meet you. I’m going to need you to fill out some papers.” The man tells him in a rather rude tone.

Zane chooses not to comment on his unpleasant mannerisms. “I would be happy to.” He gives a friendly smile, hoping that staying composed and being affable may help with what is bothering the official.

He begins to fill out the papers he was given, but as he goes on, the questions seem to grow more and more invasive, until he finds himself pausing.

Zane looks up from the paper, setting his pencil down. “My apologies, but I am not comfortable answering these questions. The way my systems work is rather a personal matter.”

“Yes, well, I need you to answer them anyway.” The man’s smile is tight and forced, not expressing happiness in the slightest.

“I’m not comfortable with that.” Zane repeats, a note of annoyance creeping into his voice. He stares the official down, making sure he knows that he will not be backing down on this matter.

“I didn’t ask if you were comfortable.” The man’s eyes express sharp malice as his false smile drops. “I told you to fill out the papers.”

“And I told you no.” Zane stands up abruptly, still holding cold eye contact. “I’ll be leaving now.”

A spark of anger lights in the man’s eyes. “No, you won’t.” He stands up as well, annoyance and hatred on his face. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“I don’t believe that’s your call to make.” Zane doesn’t blink and doesn’t back down- but he does refrain from allowing the temperature to drop from his powers.

“It is, actually.” The official insists. Does he genuinely believe that?

This is not a debate that he’s willing to be having, so it is time to end the discussion. “Is that so?”

“Sit down, nindroid.” He says the final word as though it’s an insult rather than a descriptor. “This isn’t up to your programming.”

“My progr- just what, exactly, are you trying to imply?” Zane knows he should simply walk out the door, but at the moment, he is completely floored by the implications of his words.

Is he truly under the impression that-

His attention is grabbed by the door being opened, and his eyes widen in surprise when he sees a large group of security guards entering, all wielding laser guns not unlike the ones Cyrus Borg had designed.

Zane quick backs away, narrowing his eyes. So they plan to hold him hostage? “I must warn you that even unarmed, I am still a trained ninja. I recommend that you stand down.”

The guns are aimed at him, all centered on non-vital parts of his body- though any shots that hit would likely give them enough time to restrain him.

Then he must not get hit. And for that, he should make the first move.

Zane takes a step forward, attempting to blast a shield of ice to block off any possible shots. But much to his dismay, he discovers that his elemental powers are not working, and a quick scan confirms that the entire building is lined with vengestone in the walls.

This is… quite the situation.

A few shots are fired at him, and he quickly ducks, flipping backwards to avoid getting injured. Unfortunately, he discovers only a moment too late that they were expecting that, and a shot was fired to where he had dodged, leading to a laser blast grazing his right calf, making him stumble.

They must have analyzed his fighting style before he arrived in order to predict his movements!

This brief lapse in balance is all it takes for them to completely surround him. With narrowed eyes, he begins to start making the moves of spinjitzu, but his damaged leg causes him to fall. His failure to combat them with the tactic gives them the opportunity to handcuff him, as well as manhandle him onto his knees.

Zane glares up at the official. “I do not know what you have planned, but I must warn you that such an illegal action will have consequences, even for an official such as yourself. I-“

The man shakes his head. “Take it away.” He orders.

Zane finds himself being dragged along, unable to effectively resist the guards. Eventually, he’s taken to a new room with a set of rectangular locker-like cubbies.

With wide eyes, a sudden realization strikes him as he looks at the lockers, and he resumes his struggling.

These lockers are just large enough to fit a person inside. Or more accurately for this circumstance, a nindroid.

“I want my phone call.” He demands as he’s forcibly dragged closer.

One of the guards scoffs. “You don’t get one.” He sounds almost insulted by the idea.

Zane manages to resist some, buying himself some time to continue speaking. “Legally you are required to-“

A different guard incredulously asks, “Do you- do you actually think you have the rights of a human?”

Zane pauses a few moments, confused by the words. “Yes? I thought that-“

He’s unable to continue due to the way he’s roughly manhandled into the cubby, and as he's about to argue, the door is slammed in his face.

Despite the way he struggles against it, the exit is firmly blocked off, leaving him quite effectively contained.

After a few minutes of struggling, he concludes that he will have to wait until they reopen it to make his escape.

With a sigh, he leans back against the wall, shifting uncomfortably in the small space. There is less than an inch of space surrounding him on all sides, leading to a rather cramped arrangement.

“What just happened?” He murmurs softly to himself, listening as the booted footsteps of the guards fade away. These events had occurred so suddenly that his processor is stuck playing catch up.

Closing his eyes, he decides to go into sleep-mode for a while, though he keeps his senses dialed high enough that any nearby noise will wake him.

He can make his escape when they return.

[voidcat]

– a case of bad luck

3. making a scene

m.list ; prev ; next ; wc: 2.7k

a/n: rmr when i said i'd not post a chapter befre writing at least one chapter ahead? ahahaha anyways,,, here's wonderwall. song name mentioned at the end of the chapter!!

He doesn’t show his face for the next few days.

The feeling of being watched goes away with him, despite knowing it’ll be over shortly.

Finding things to occupy your mind starts off easier than you thought, no one bats an eye to it either. Slowly rumors start to spread about the boy who hasn’t shown his face in weeks.

Exes complain and bad mouth, friends stick around and make excuses, some believe he ran off to chase a dream or start a new life; a theory from each head, all speculating, not even close to the truth of it.

Then comes the news reports, a close friend must’ve heard from the cops, body found dead, covered in bruises. ‘They say he was in the wrong place at the wrong time, crossed an alley too narrow at a time too late.’ Nobody speaks of the bodies found with him, someone must’ve messed with the crime scene.

“So, how are things going with him?” a voice from your right snaps your attention.

What?.. You stare at your friend, then realize she must mean Dazai.

“Not much. He’s still in town, we hang out sometimes.” The lie slips off smoothly yet they seem disappointed at your answer. Then remembering what he claims to have said to them, it makes sense in a way, although a dumb way it is.

“Do you think he was murdered?” “What could he have done to die a brutal way?” they join the flock of gossipers. Nothing new or exciting to do recently, taking a guess has become the new sport, as if a correct guess could earn them something of a meaning.

You close your ears to the same whispers of different voices and try focusing on what’s at hand. Maybe you should remember what it is for first.

The dreaded feeling comes back after few more days and with it, so does he.

Waiting in the same spot just like the last time, another suspicious smile decorating his face, accompanied by fresh bandages. Rolling your eyes at the sight of him, you look for a means to escape, even just for one more day but your friends spot him short after, wave their hands at him and push you to his direction.

Lovely.

A cloying voice to match that smile, he greets you first. “Hello darling-“ “Don’t call me that.” You cut in. He pays no mind.

Like last time, the two of you begin to walk, ignoring the curious looks of your friends focused on your back. “Have you thought about my offer recently?”

“Honestly? I forgot.” You expect a raised eyebrow or a glance thrown your way at the very least. “I have a life of my own, you know.” He shows no sign of emotions or annoyance.

“And so do they.” He shrugs and looks at the each store window you walk by. It’s the air within him, that rubs you the wrong way, you decide. The way he talks as if he is discussing over what to eat for breakfast when it’s lives, living breathing lives you’ve spent your whole life with that he threatens.

Exactly how many times has he done that to not care at all?

Another answer- no, a possibility, an explanation to this lies in your mind and you brush it off –or try to do so. It’s cruel, maybe not exactly but such an idea shouldn’t come to your mind so easily, no matter how… logical it sounds to be.

“What do you want me to do? What do you expect me to say? Just blindly agree?” your steps begin to get louder, more pressure applied to each one you take.

Then his voice rises, a stretched out ‘ah’comes first, “Bella, you’re making a scene,” he makes a move to drape an arm over your shoulder as you take a step forward to escape it. “-especially when you don’t even have the slightest clue what I’m asking for.” And comes back the empty tone of voice with his last words.

Few steps ahead there’s a turn you can take. You wonder if he will stop when you part ways, will he wait, walk after you to grab your arm and make you follow him again? Another voice tells you instead he will keep walking ahead, not even sparing a glance your way, already aware you’ll fall defeated to fear or curiosity only to trail after him again.

But still, the possibilities are still worth the risk, no matter how true he is to his threats, it’s better than to walk into an alley with him again.

People around walk on and continue their lives, out to enjoy the sun or to hang out after their not-so-busy lives. You don’t cross the street at the lights like you did the last time.

From the corner of your eye you peak at him but the bandages cover a good portion of his face, not that he is loose with his expressions and mimics. You focus on the walk again.

“Whatever it is, it must be something dirty, or risky, considering you’re threatening me into this.”

“Now now, don’t flatter yourself just because you have an ability. It isn’t anything big, just a small chore I don’t want to deal with.”

“From the way you talk, the list can go from taking the trash out to murder y’know…” To this, he just lets out a dry laugh. You’re unsure if it’s a good thing or not that he doesn’t even deny it.

The scenery around begins to change slowly, store by store, people by people. Maybe this is a good time to take a turn right or back, before ending up in a part of town who knows where. Nearby you spot a pot of flowers and stop as you reach it. A checkpoint, of sorts. It used be enjoyable at least, to have little checkpoints of your own on paths you took daily, on streets you weren’t familiar with. Stores, a pavement stone sticking out, a cat that sleeps in the same place all day, all to yourself, –as if a checkpoint could actually serve you as if life is a video game.

As you stop, he does too. “That’s fair.” He shrugs, “but it’s nothing big. I just want you to capture this guy by the end of tonight.”

Narrowing your eyes, you observe his face, “why, is the mighty Dazai incapable of such a simple task or does he carry an infectious disease of sorts?”

“Neither,” crossing his arms behind, he rests his head. “I just don’t feel like doing it.” Unbelievable.

It’s your turn to cross your arms this time, take a step back and balance your weight, just to say alert. “So let’s say that I agreed to this, will you get off my neck? Even if it fails?”

“Ah, bella, failure isn’t an option in your case.” You wince at nickname, again, and positive why he avoided the first question. Like it or not, getting involved in even the tiniest task would link you to the mafia somehow, an accomplice, even if he says he will leave you, there’s no guarantee someone else won’t show up. And this time with a better excuse to use, that’ll get worse for you if the said person is tortured or murdered.

“Okay, I… have a song in mind but-“ you look around and down and around and at his face again, he seems to be waiting for you to finish whatever it is you’ll say. Straightening up, you speak the next words with more confidence, no matter what, showing any signs of weakness or submission is not an option. “-even if this whole ability thing is real, I doubt it will work unless it’s night time.”

He waits there for a moment, looking more like he dozed off then considering what you’ve just said. “Alright!” he claps his hands in front of him suddenly, “I’ll be waiting by the door around 8. Don’t make me wait.” “wait!-“

Coat wavering in the air, he turns and continues walking the direction you two were following.

Your ‘How the hell am I supposed to find an excuse to get out at 8?’ waits on the tip of your tongue, his shrinking form looking more and more punchable with each passing second. Waiting a little longer to make sure he’s gone, though it isn’t important since he made it clear he knows where you reside, you begin to walk back home.

Now each word spoken, his gestures, moves and his voice start to come back at you one by one. Want it or not, you did agree to become an associate to them, even if it’s a weak link. A disposable one, easy to trace, not important enough to protect. Taking one arm off, you hold your bag in front and search for your earphones.

If you’re really going to do this, that ability thing better be working. Typing in the song title and you click play, putting it on repeat, that might help get you in the mood at least.

A dinner like any other evening, occasional chitchat mixed with the clanking of cutlery. Your cat peaks from the door frame and goes back into the living room, leaving the three of you alone. Few nods here and there, hums instead of ‘yes’ and ‘no’s.

You consider if you should try to sneak out or make up a lie to go out, though there’s no guarantee on the latter that they’ll allow. That is, until you see alcohol in the mix and stay silent, then offer once to refill their glasses and refuse “No thank you, it’s a school night after all.”

Pleased with your reply, their attention is back on talk about their day, few complaints here and there, and soon after they grow tired. Dimming the lights and burning an incense stick in a far corner of a room helps to set the mood.

“You seem tired father, why don’t you go to bed earlier tonight?” he doesn’t even loom up from his cigarette but the heavy eye lids suggest he is keen on the idea.

“Mother, didn’t you say you have an early meeting tomorrow? It’s better to sleep now and review the papers in the morning than to stay up all night.” If she suspects your sudden interest in her schedule, she doesn’t make a comment. And always being the first one to go to bed, she puts the documents into a neat pile and gets up first.

You wait for the sounds to come to an end and glance at the nearest clock. 8.05, not bad. Who is he to complain when he didn’t even bother to ask if it works for you anyway?

Tiptoing to the door and grabbing the keys, you ignore your cat’s curious gaze and grab your shoes.

Like he said, he waits 20 meters from your house.

“Ready?” he offers his arm, which you ignore.

Putting on your earphones and pressing play, you let out a breath. “Just lead the way.”

With music in your ears, the journey there goes faster.

At first you lend an ear to Dazai, seeing his mouth move, but once it’s clear he’s just babbling about some random thing, you let your focus loose and allow the tune to surround you.

Losing count on how many times the song replayed, you eye Dazai, waiting for a word on at least what you’ll do.

And as if on cue, he stops whatever nonsense he was sputtering and that tone comes out of his mouth again. You make a mental note to control your body language better in the future.

“It’s just one man, slightly taller than me, built in but not very bright. He should be easy to spot in the next turn to the left, I doubt he got company.”

Turning the volume down, you slow your steps to match his pace. “So he is just… there? Why would he even walk into a trap?”

“Oh he isn’t! But he will arrive in-“ he pulls out his phone to check the time, “-in half an hour.” as his voice starts to get more excited, not genuine like a kid’s, but fake, you get a bad feeling in his intentions –worse than before.

“What if it doesn’t work and I cannot use my ability?” you ask and immediately regret upon seeing a smile on him, as if he was waiting, –who are you kidding, of course he was waiting! “Well that sounds like a you problem, doesn’t it?” he says with a shrug.

“Good luck! I’ll be back in an hour!” he turns around and walk into a shadowed corner before you can run after him.

Eyes fixed on where he was standing a while ago, with that smile on his lips, you mutter to yourself, “What the hell…”, and turn the volume back up.

In the remaining minutes to his arrival, you’ve taken off your earphones, humming to yourself and waiting by the corner.

By the time he arrives, you watch him look around for a minute then walk into the alley with ease.

“Hello, sir! If you’re not busy at the moment, can I borrow 5 minutes of your time?” Adding a sweetness to your voice isn’t hard but he seems vary of you.

Who wouldn’t be? In the dead of the night, a high schooler appearing in an alley when they’re supposed to have a meeting.

“Oh please, it’s nothing big. You see, I’ll be auditioning for a band and I’m waiting for my friend before we go in.” You wave your hand like it’s nothing. “And though I know I’m somewhat decent, I need actual criticism from someone who won’t sugarcoat it for me. Would you like to hear me sing?”

He doesn’t look impressed, nor does he look like he wants to deal with a brat. But twisting his lips once and looking around for a sign of arrival, it’s clear he prefers to hear you once and get rid of you for good.

“Okay and before we begin, if you understand the lyrics, please don’t get any ideas. The actual theme and story of the song lies in the verse.” You flash a smile when he raises an eyebrow, maybe it was a stupid thing to say, it’s not like everyone can understand a song in a foreign language on first listen, even if they know the language.

Pulling out your phone, you press play, keeping rhythm to the beat with your foot and drum your fingers to your leg.

“I am not, I am not, I am not, I'm alive, live-” you begin singing and close your eyes for a brief moment.

Perhaps you should’ve picked a… more convenient song, instead of spending your day til dinner listening to this.

But would another one be as interesting as this to witness? It’s a hard no, of course not.

Yet this doesn’t help silence the creaking sounds from earlier leave your head. And now those mixed with the song itself, sends a shiver. Would that happen to me if I sang it in a moment of weakness?

You wait with your back to the cold wall, check the time again and like clockwork, faint footsteps reach your ears.

It’s Dazai’s face to show itself first, peaking from the street opening like your cat did today during dinner. He spots you, and him, and his expression changes suddenly.

Unsure what he thinks of this, you decide don’t want to learn it, or any other expression of his now that you’re at it. Decoding him means knowing him, to an extent, and this also means spending time with him, getting closer to him. None of which you’re eager to participate in.

As he opens his mouth to say something, you push yourself off the wall and take a step to your right to avoid colliding.

“There. I’m going home.”

Steps long and fast, you leave immediately, putting as much distance as possible. Hands into fists, moving in sync with your legs and your gaze focused ahead. It seems trip back home will go faster than it was to get here. You ignore for the night how easily you could turn your back to him and just walk.

song: Crows - Rest in Bigger Pieces Remix by Car Seat Headrest

yep, thats the full name. if u listen to it, it'll make it easier, but if u dont, here's a brief summary:

the song is written for one of will's friends, cate wurtz (for one of her webcomics) the main theme of the song and the webcomic is in the verse but lyrics beside it are references to having sex at a park at night, hence the reader telling "dont get any ideas"

[rosesgonerogue]

I didn’t so much fall in love - It kicked me in the face Chapter Four

No matter how hard she tried, Marinette couldn’t deny the fact that she found Timothy Drake incredibly attractive. But she had to push it down for the sake of professionalism. In all actuality, all of the Wayne brothers were attractive, but she and Tim just… clicked. She wanted to stay here and talk to him, pick his mind about his likes and dislikes. It really did not help that Leo was insistent that Tim got Ladybug red lining. 

Because that was huge. Leo knew Ladybug’s identity, and he was staunchly protective of the heroine because of that. He knew something, or intuited something about Tim that Marinette hadn’t caught onto yet. Leo’s insistence was more than curious, and it consumed enough of Marinette’s thoughts that she managed to avoid pondering the fact that the majority of the family had at least some trace of the Lazarus Pits on them. 

The Lazarus Pits were something that Marinette had only learned about from the book, but the sensation was unmistakable. They were dark, twisted Miraculous magic, a result of a wish born from the Ladybug and Black Cat Miraculouses. It was a magic that was able to heal someone at the expense of their sanity, or sometimes their humanity, at least so the kwamis had reported. But the magic was faded - it had been at least a few years since any of them had interacted with the pools. It had taken her some time to confirm the feeling, but now Marinette was sure of it. If the Wayne family was indeed the “Bat Family,” as Gotham had dubbed the vigilantes, then they were involved in some things beyond even the Justice League. 

If that was the case, then Tim should have been the last person she focused on. He was remarkably free of the vile magic. Even knowing that, as well as Marinette’s responsibilities as the Guardian of the Miraculous, she couldn’t help but gravitate towards Tim.

She really wanted nothing more than to talk to the man for hours, but Marinette couldn’t. It felt like she was with her friends and it was late enough that she knew logically that she needed to leave, but it also felt like she couldn’t help but leave a part of herself behind when she did. But Marinette was an adult, with a job and a child to take care of. Purposely tearing her eyes away from him , she looked at the clock. “Well, it’s getting late, Tim. I’m sure you have important business to attend to, and I have a number of suits to make. It was lovely meeting you, and thank you once again for being so attentive to Leo.” 

“It was my pleasure, Marinette.” 

Slipping away, Marinette couldn’t escape the thoughts and emotions pounding in her mind. The Wayne family was truly an eclectic group. 

Alfred waited for her at the doorway, his posture perfect. “On behalf of the Wayne family, I thank you, Miss Dupain-Cheng.” 

Maybe it was just the residual emotions from the Waynes - because there were many - but now that she wasn’t distracted, something felt… different about the butler. Miraculous. 

“And thank you for all of your assistance, Monsieur. I’m afraid I missed your last name.” 

“Pennyworth, Madame. Sir Alfred Pennyworth.” 

“Well, Sir Pennyworth, I hope to see you again soon,” Marinette said warmly, squeezing Leo’s hand. “Have a wonderful day.” 

“You as well,” he said, inclining his head. 

A car was waiting outside for them, and as Marinette was buckling Leo in, he said, “Monsieur Pennyworth needs something blue like Duusu.”

His eyes were grave - Marinette often thought that she wasn’t capable of possibly fathoming half of the things that went through his mind. Apparently being born to the guardian and wielder of the Miraculous had some side-effects - like his scary accurate intuition. 

“Don’t worry,” she said, ruffling his hair. “I’ll make something special for Mr. Pennyworth. But if he’s blue like Duusu, why is Monsieur Drake Ladybug red?” 

“He matches you,” Leo said simply before becoming fixated on something outside of the car. 

Well. Marinette got to decipher what that was supposed to mean alone, it seemed. 

**********

As soon as the designer was gone, Damian huffed, crossing his arms. “She at least seems marginally capable.” 

“She’s more than marginally capable, Little D,” Dick said, shaking his youngest brother. “She’s MDC.” 

“Are we going to discuss the fact that she’s the tourist from patrol the other night?” Jason asked, lounging across an armchair.

“The one you had to get out of a tree? Why would she-”

“No, the one that took down Scarecrow single-handedly and then managed to kick the replacement in the face,” Jason said, snickering. 

“Are you kidding me?” Dick asked, eyes alight with excitement. “She’s that one?” 

“It was probably just adrenaline,” Damian muttered. “You said she had been looking for her child, didn’t you?” 

“Speaking of the kid, he sees way too much,” Jason butted in. “It’s like he can look into your soul. And you can’t adopt either of them, Bruce, no matter how much they look like Waynes.” 

“There are other options,” Bruce said dismissively. “But if we want to keep our identities a secret, we need to be especially cautious. Tim, I want you to do a background check now that we have a full name. Nothing too deep, she hasn’t given us any real reason to be suspicious yet.” 

“Nonsense,” Damian said with a curled lip. “We should have done a full investigation before she even set foot in Gotham.” 

“Damian, you will show her respect,” Bruce warned. 

“Hey B, do you know anything about a Parisian hero named Ladybug?” Tim asked. “Leo was talking about her like she was a pretty big deal.” 

“The name is familiar. She and a handful of other heroes popped up in Paris a little less than ten years ago. There isn’t much information on them, but they seem harmless enough, leading recycling efforts and such. They’re likely more public mascots than actual heroes.” 

“That would be kind of nice, wouldn’t it?” Dick wondered idly. “What would it be like, worrying about recycling and friendship more than actual crime?” 

“Either the Parisian cops are damn good at their job, or the city is a disaster,” Jason speculated. “The more I think about it, Paris sounds like a great vacation spot. You should take us there on our next family trip, Bruce.” 

“We don’t do family trips,” Damian sneered. 

“You should take us on family trips, Bruce.” 

“Think of all of the family bonding we could do!” Dick exclaimed with stars in his eyes. While they all argued about whether or not a family trip was feasible, or even worthwhile, Tim slipped away to his room. 

His mind was bogged down with visions of blue eyes and a musical laugh. The only word he could think of to describe how he felt was “bewitched,” but Tim felt like that was far from just to the source of the problem. 

It wasn’t long before there was a knock on the door and none other but Dick Grayson pushed his way into the room. “Everything okay, Tim?” he asked, eyes clearly concerned. 

“I’m fine, I just… This is completely embarrassing. I was just… distracted.” 

Dick scrutinized him for a moment before his face cleared. “Oh. Oh.” 

“Don’t make it sound like that,” Tim said, throwing a pillow. “I just… I don’t think I’ve spoken that easily to a woman ever. Marinette… She was amazing.” 

“I did notice that you two were getting along. It’s okay if you like her, Timmie. In case you haven’t gotten the memo, the whole vigilante life doesn’t immediately exclude you from having a love life.” 

“I know, I’ve seen it, but - Ugh, it’s all so confusing. I think I could really, really like her, but she’s too bright, too precious. Gotham would drain the life out of her, just like it does to everything else.” 

Dick thought for a moment before ruffling his brother’s hair. “First of all, I think you’re not giving Marinette enough credit. She’s already been through an attack, and it was with Scarecrow, no less. Somehow she managed to take him down, and she almost took you out too. Gotham’s got nothing on that girl.” 

“I know, it’s just hard to reconcile the Marinette I just met with the one that kicked me in the face,” Tim said, rubbing his temples. “What’s second?” 

“Hmm?” 

“You said ‘first of all.’ That means that you’ve got a second part.” 

Moving to Tim’s doorway, Dick looked back with half a smile. “Second of all, no one ever said you had to stay in Gotham.” 

Taglist: 

@ii-fox-demon @queen-in-a-flower-crown @novaloptr @saphiraazure2708 @iamabrownfox @smolplantmum @redhoodedtoad @loysydark @slytheringinger300 @finallyaniguana @brokenwordsarehard2 @abrx2002 @mystery-5-5 @zalladane @moonlightstar64  @marinettepotterandplagg @black-streak @purplesundaze @maribat-is-lifeblood @the-fusionist @river9noble @chocolatecatstheron @darkthunder1589 @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @dast218 @k-poplunardreams @meanids @changelinggarden @ladybug-182 @pawsitivelymiraculous

Note: 

This chapter is short on Leo, which is as much as shame to me as it is to all of you, I’m sure. I fully intend on making up for that later. Let me know what you all think. I’m still fairly new to writing romance, so I could use all the input I can get!