#the fic i wrote to be in line with this btw! i think Locke does fall for the Act at moments. the only one who never does is Sayid

[sybilius]

One thing I love about the storytelling in Lost S2 is how much they keep you guessing about whether ""Henry"" is as meek and cringing as he appears to be, right up until the last episode. Michael Emerson does incredible face work, bug eyed, panicked, resigned, but there are these small hints of a manipulative heart constantly that makes you wonder where "Henry" sits between "cold calculating mastermind" and "chronic liar who would say anything to save his own skin but is really quite pathetic and desperate"

Anyways, when he walks out all cool and collected in the last episode of the season it's like "ohhhhhhh. Ohohohoho >:3"

[yelenasdog]

it was a pleasure to burn (spencer reid x fem bau!reader)

genre: fluff i think even though the name is v angsty LOL it’s a literal screenplay with the amout of dialogue i wrote LMAO so idk

summary: a particularly rough and disturbing case gets to reader, and spencer and reader are brought together by this.

words: just about 6k (my longest fic ahhHH)

warnings: typical criminal minds gore and violence just up a notch, they get on a plane at the end, somebody gets ~shot~, somebody gets ~bonked~, cursing, mentions of reid’s addiction, and i think that’s it. also the reader wears reading glasses but that’s the only predetermined factor of appearance. btw i don’t think i used any pronouns in this but i apologize if i’m wrong. 

a/n: LMFAO i was outside awhile ago celebrating litha with a nice lil hike and i saw a butterfly and i had just started watching cm and was like hMMm... killer who’s obsessed with symmetry??!1??!? y Es. enjoy 😼 EDIT: THERE IS SO MANY PLOT HOLES OMG FBREHJBFHEJFRE IM RBFBRE

🂦∙🂦∙🂦

Present Day, Central Park, New York

“Aren’t they just stunning?” The unsub spoke, keeping her eyes trained on the butterfly sitting happily on her finger. The brightly colored creature fluttered off her hand that was dripping scarlet, flying around her curly head of brown hair. Her, formerly white, blood-stained dress flowed around her as she followed it, watching in awe as it soared about. She giggled, plopping down on the grass in the middle of a circle of her victim’s pale, lifeless bodies, all of them with ironically morbid butterflies resting upon the frail skin of the corpses.

“Aren’t they, agents?”

She slanted her green eyes, gripping the grass a little harder. I flicked my tongue over my lips nervously, looking over to the lanky man on my left. He simply shrugged, just about as sure of how to handle the situation just as much as I was.

“If I knew you all were coming, I would have cleaned up, I really would have, I promise.”

We slowly walked towards her, twigs and leaves crunching under our feet. It could have been comparable to a hunter stalking its prey, but it unfortunately was quite the opposite.

6 days earlier, Quantico, Virginia

“3 bodies, all found within the last 48 hours in rural New York. So far, the first body has revealed that although it was dumped upstate, the victim was murdered in the city, and the same most likely goes for the other bodies as well. Nails well manicured, no drugs in the system. They aren't junkies, we’re dealing with upper class citizens.”

My face contorted as I took the photos from Reid’s hands, his large and tanned one surprising me by how soft it felt as it accidentally brushed against mine. I blushed like a madman, looking to see him doing the same thing. I cleared my throat getting Rossi’s attention.

“Why are we only now hearing of this?” I questioned, flipping through the images as I did so, my confusion only growing. I didn’t recieve an answer, leaving my curiosity to bloom.

“Wait, how did you say they were killed again?”

Morgan looked up, taking the photos from me. “He didn’t.”

I sighed, pushing my glasses up on my nose.

“Is there at least any correlation between the bodies and the butterflies?”

Our attention was shifted to JJ, the resident expert on the insects.

“Actually, the ones being found with the bodies are from the Amarynthis family, all native to Latin America. They weren’t there by accident so yes, they’re somehow related.”

Rossi stood up, grabbing his coat.

“Well, none of this is nearly enough for a profile, so pack your bags and tell the others, wheels up in an hour. We’re headed to New York.”

4 days earlier, F.B.I. Field Office, New York, New York

“The final report from the latest victim is in, all the autopsies are clean. They show no signs of struggles, no marks, no blood, no anything. The eyes weren’t bloodshot, so suffocation is ruled out, and that was our best bet.”

I sighed, sliding the case file across the glass table to Spence as I took my seat, sinking into it and allowing myself to be consumed by its warmth.

“So what your saying is that we’re back at square one.”

I looked up at Hotch from where I sat, running my hand through my ponytail.

“Yeah. That’s what I’m saying.”

Just then, the young Doctor spoke up as he flipped through the pages.

“The eyes weren’t just not bloodshot, there was barely any blood left in any of the victims bodies, only about 3% of the volume left. The killer drained them.”

Morgan gave me a shocked expression, silently asking for an explanation.

“Which you failed to mention, Y/n.” Aaron spoke, agitation once again present in his voice.

I looked at the ceiling, crossing my arms in front of me before turning to face Hotch once more.

“Yeah, well, I thought it was obvious when I said no blood.” I stuttered out cautiously.

“On the bodies! Not in the bodies!” Morgan exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air in what was in my opinion, very childish. Everyone else in the room aside from Spencer was either shaking their heads or pinching the bridge of their noses, and reasonably so.

“Look, I’m sorry I just didn’t see it in the report, plus, In the scheme of things, it just doesn’t seem to matter.”

I soon regretted my words, realizing how ill-fit they were for the current conversation I was having. Spencer looked up, tilting his head.

“Doesn’t seem to matter? How? There’s an endless amount of possibilities now that we know this. If we had known it sooner we probably could have figured out the pattern and caught the one doing this!” He harshly spewed, his voice acting like a crescendo of sorts, quiet and calm and moving towards a loud and violent tone. Tears began to prick at the corners of my eyes and I was starting to feel guilty, not to mention absolutely stupid as could be.

“I’m- I really am sorry guys, truly.”

Hotch locked eyes with me, taking a stern tone that one would usually take with a disobedient child, perhaps even Jack.

“I hope that’s a comfort to you when another body shows up. That’s their blood on your hands.”

I was frozen, the gravity of the situation taking its toll.

In the background I heard him say something to Morgan about a new profile having to be made as there were many new things to be known from this revelation. But it all went in one ear and out the other, just unpleasant white noise.

As I clumsily stumbled out of the room, I felt Reid’s eyes burning holes into the back of my brain. I was quick to turn my head to meet his glance, causing him to look down. I felt bad, the weight on my chest growing heavier from the interaction.

I sat down at my desk, turning on my computer and immediately going to google. I typed in “hypnosis” and let the info trickle in.

About 30 minutes later, I still felt absolutely horrible, but I had also put together a valuable profile in the time that had passed. I shut the newly finished file, blowing an abandoned strand of hair out from my eyes. I had to do a double take when I saw Spencer staring once more, his deep hazel eyes meeting my own. I gave him a small smile before standing up and walking to Hotch’s makeshift New York office. I pushed open the heavy door, placing the folder on his too-clean desk.

“What’s this?” He asked, taking it in his hands.

“My theory about the unsub. I think I know what she’s been doing. You can tell the team if you want, I’m not sure if they would wanna hear it from me. ”

He gave a small smile, pushing the file back over to me.

“You get the team together and I’ll get the local PD caught up. You tell them yourself.”

A few minutes later, everyone except for Reid had gathered in the meeting room. I peeked through the half closed blinds that allowed a line of vision to his desk in an attempt to locate him. He was positioned there, staring blankly at his laptop that appeared to have nothing on the screen. I knocked on the window lightly to catch his attention, his glazed over eyes looking in my direction. I tilted my head at him, silently beckoning him to join me. He only shook his in response, shaggy brown locks swaying back and forth. I sighed, frowning at his action. I turned to the group, clasping my hands in front of me.

“Everyone, this will just be a second if you’ll excuse me.”

With a raised eyebrow from Hotchner and a jab in the direction of Spencer’s workspace, I swiftly walked out of the crowded room.

“Spence, care to join us?” I asked, resting one of my hands against my hip, the other on his orderly desk.

“No, I don’t think I will. I need to try to figure this out before she finds her next victim.”

“What makes you think the unsub is a she?” I searched his eyes that had seemingly become brighter at my piqued interest in his hypothesis.

“Well, the unsub seems to be obsessed with symmetry, all the bodies being found in obscure yet symmetrical positions. This could suggest she had some sort of deep rooted insecurity, possibly from some sort of bullying from growing up in a small town where she was looked at as a superior for subpar looks. She moved to the big city, expecting a big break. Instead she was shunned for being less than average. She grew frustrated and as a result, she began her killing spree. The stresser could have been one too many insults that made her snap. Plus, that would account for the butterflies left on the scenes that are used in modern examples of both femininity and symmetry.”

I smiled widely at his words.

“What- why are you smiling, what are you smiling at?”

I tapped his desk, rolling my bottom lip between my teeth. I headed back towards the conference room, looking over my shoulder.

“Because, I’m glad we’re on the same page, Dr.”

——————

“So, our girl, as Dr. Reid has explained to us, is obsessed with her appearance. She’s an organized killer, no mistakes and no signs of blood or anything of the sort on scene. She has practice, she does this sort of thing every day. She is most likely in the age group of 23-30, and has a job in the cosmetic industry, our guess is in plastic surgery. She probably volunteers weekends at local butterfly sanctuaries or zoos, finding comfort in their perfection that those in her life, or formerly in her life, cannot and could not provide.”

“Which would explain to her easy access to non-native species of the insects. She has an absolute infatuation with symmetry, which yet again, links the butterflies on the crime scene to her MO.”

Spencer and I were vividly explaining our shared theory to the team, as well as local law enforcement. He was excited by his discovery and the lead on the killer, and his energy was contagious.

“She kills without remorse and out of jealousy, picking victims who all have one thing in common.”

Spence pointed to all of the images pasted on the board in the center of the room, all of them split in half and reflected, creating a perfect mirrored portrait.

“They all have perfectly symmetrical faces, as well as strong jawlines and high cheekbones. As most of these victims are models or those searching to start a modeling career, we believe she is luring them in with a photographer trope, promising to make their dreams come true.”

I nodded, taking a moment to study Reid’s own sharp yet somehow soft features. I allowed my eyes to wander over his sunken in, kind, and curious eyes; his pillowy pink lips that are in dire need of some chapstick.

“Agent?”

I turned my head, snapped back to reality by Rossi calling my name.

I gave a tight and quick smile, returning to the topic at hand and tactics to catch the unsub. But of course not before Emily gave me a crooked smile, resulting in me rolling my eyes.

“Physically, she’s nothing special, most likely a mundane appearance or one with quite obvious surgical changes. No in between. Check all of the plastic surgeon offices in the area for both employees who fit our description, as well as a patient who has gotten any serious facial mod operations. Do the same for any weekend volunteers at local zoos and animal sanctuaries, specifically working with any insects.”

It was an NYPD officer then that spoke up this time, raising her hand briefly.

“But, you still haven’t mentioned how she’s killing them?”

“Hypnosis.” Reid and I both spoke at the same time. He looked to his black Converse, sliding his hands into his pockets. I observed the room and all of the skeptical faces filling it.

“Even if it may sound far fetched, we saw no signs of anything that indicated a struggle or even any marks or wounds. This led us to believe that some form of hypnosis was used to allow her an easy kill. This means extra caution will have to be taken when actually handling the unsub. Even though we’re positive she’s using hypnosis, which method she is using to actually kill them after the fact is what we’re unsure of.”

I turned to Spencer, handing off the explanation to him.

“We think that because of her whole thing with symmetry, she wouldn’t want to disturb the natural state of the victims and their faces, even if she would do the same to her own.”

“Which means?” JJ asked, her blue eyes slanted and glossed lips left ajar.

“It means that the unsub wouldn’t want to leave any large marks like stab or gunshot wounds.” I nodded at Prentiss, who had made the assumption, confirming she was correct.

“With her presumed background in plastic surgery, we believe she was able to make small incisions that made no visible scars. We’re having the coroner look back over the bodies as we speak.”

“She drains the body’s blood 97% of the way before closing the holes up. What she does with the blood, we don’t know. Another Eddie Mays, perhaps.”

I looked over to Spencer, raising my brows at his comparison. He was quick to defend himself, shaking his hands left to right and mouthing “No” while simultaneously shaking his head the same way, something he seemed to be doing often as of late.

After we had finished consulting with any officers who had remaining questions, we branched off to conduct our own routine investigations. We found that the only thing they all had in common apart from the symmetrical faces, is that they all had visited the Central Park Zoo in the 24 hours before they were killed. We received a phone call from Garcia not long after we put together those pieces, being alerted that there was one girl who had, in her words, “Hit every mark there was to hit, sunshine.”                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                              

“Her name is Alessia Copelas, she works weekdays as a surgeon's assistant at Premier Cosmetic, and weekends at Central Park Zoo from 4-8 p.m.”

I smiled at the new info from the blonde bombshell known as Penelope, turning to Reid who was still looking at me quizzically.

“Alright, thanks babes, you’re the best.” I spoke into the phone, a comical “Mwah!” made from either side as we hung up.

He shook his head, keeping the odd look on his face.

“I swear, you guys have a weirder relationship than her and Morgan.”

I laughed, sliding my phone into my back pocket.

“Oh, please, Spence.” I gingerly placed a hand on his cheek, patting it twice.

“You’re just jealous.” I made a pouty face, letting my hand linger before walking off. “Come on, we’re going on a field trip.”

“Where to?” He asked, gripping the door frame, using it as leverage to swing himself closer to me. He took long and quick strides, catching up to me in no time.

“You like animals, right?”

———————

4 Days Earlier, Central Park Zoo, New York

As soon as we entered the zoo, our ears were filled with the sounds of the loud screeches of birds and monkeys alike. Reid covered his ears, cringing and making his displeasure known with an “Ahh!”

I smiled at his geeky behavior, admiring the animals in the enclosures. I paid special attention to a particularly impressive species of tarantula, leaning down to admire them. A few moments later I looked to my left and saw Spencer doing the same thing.

“Did you know that arachnids have asthma which is why they don’t run for extended periods of time, similarly to cheetahs?”

“Yes I did.”

His face scrunched up in an adorable manner, causing an involuntary giggle to fall past my lips.

“Well did you know that-“

“Ma’am?”

I turned to see a young woman with flaming red hair and a freckled face smiling at me, her green collared uniform top complimenting her eyes of a different shade wonderfully.

“Oh, hi, I’m Agent Y/l/n and this is Dr. Reid, we’re with the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI.”

Her expression shifted to a more confused one, her smile not leaving her face.

“What can I do for you two?”

“Is there an Alessia Copelas that works here, maybe volunteers on the weekends?” Spencer asked, his puppy dog eyes immediately warranting a response.

“Yeah, she volunteers here, she seems nice. Is she helping with an investigation?”

“Well we think that she may have some part in a series of murders.”

Her smile disappeared this time, turning into a cement frown as panic flooded her body.

“Oh God, was she- Is she a killer? Have I been working with a killer for all this time? I mean, I never had any shifts with her but from what I heard I thought she was so sweet-“

“Look,”

Reid glanced down to her name tag that read “Lillian” before meeting her eyes. His tongue darted out, licking his lips, a nervous habit of his I’d picked up on.

“Lillian, we aren’t sure if she’s the killer we just needed to get a feel on her and get some information regarding her personal life.”

She started frantically nodding her head, more trying to convince herself she was okay rather than ourselves. I looked over her shoulder at some exhibits, thinking to myself how this would end up being a waste of our time if this poor girl couldn’t get a grip on herself.

I was soon proven wrong when I looked over to see a young girl wearing an identical uniform to Lillian, probably somewhere between 23 and 24. She had untamed chocolate locks with bangs that stopped just above the shoulder, blemishes covering her T-Zone, and a rounded face to go with it.

The cherry on top? Under her arm she carried a small enclosure with what appeared to be amarynthis meneria, the same butterflies found on the victims.

I tapped Reid on the shoulder once as discreetly as possible, catching his attention. I heard him mutter a small “Oh God” before he told Lillian to walk away calmly and quickly. She ignored his request, turning to look at Alessia, letting out a blood curdling scream and sprinting the other direction.

“Shit.” I cursed, beginning to walk towards Alessia, Spencer by my side. I smiled at her, trying to appear friendly. Reid spoke up as we got closer.

“Hello, do you by any chance-“

wham!

“Spence!” I exclaimed, reaching down to help him up from where he had fallen from being whacked by the 4’2 pyscho that was Alessia Copelas.

“Did she get away?”

I turned to see her gone, the only sign she was even here being the forming bruise on the Dr’s face.

“Yeah. She did. I’m sorry, Reid, that was really stupid of me.” He shook his head, running his own hand over the raw skin.

“It’s fine, I would have done the same for you.” He looked up, and I wasn’t sure if it was my school-girl esque crush on him or the fact I just had another experience with a serial killer, but my heart was racing nonetheless.

————————

F.B.I. Field Office, New York, New York, 1 Day Earlier

The stress levels in the room were high.

Despite our best efforts, several more bodies had been found, New York’s narcissists were in a state of panic, and the spirits of the BAU were down to say the least.

“What? Are you kidding me?” I exclaimed, looking at Hotch in disbelief.

He rolled his chocolate eyes, fanning the folder containing the new information we had gathered on Alessia.

“I wish I was, Y/n. She’s off the grid completely, her apartment is empty, phone and credit cards have been deactivated, and the surgeon’s office hasn’t heard from her for 5 days. And the media has decided to give her the name ‘Butterfly Baron’, so she’s probably been fueled even further. We need a new lead before she strikes again.”

I scoffed, standing up and pushing my chair away.

“This is unbelievable. How many times do we have to reinforce the idea to local PD! Especially when the unsub is a self absorbed psycho, do not give them a name! God, I really cannot fathom this.”

I reached up, letting my hair down from where I had messily thrown it up upon my arrival to work that morning.

I stormed out of the room, my heels clicking behind me. I ignored Hotch’s calling of my name, making my way to the closest restroom.

I went in, locking the door behind him. I ran my hands through my roots, tugging just enough to where it hurt.

Turning the water to the left all the way, I splashed it from the stream leaving the faucet on to my face. I scratched my fingernails against the skin, wiping away the tears that had escaped.

“This is all your fault, y/n.” I whispered at myself in the mirror, doing my absolute best to engrain the message in my brain. I had my head hung in shame when a knock rang out.

“Y/n?”

It was Spencer. My mind started going a million miles a minute, thinking about why he could be there. With my voice raised a few octaves, I tried to scrape up a response.

“I’ll be out in a few, Spence.”

It was quiet for a split second, leaving me to foolishly dance around the idea that he had left me to wallow in my sorrowful thoughts.

“Y/n, Hotch wanted me to check on you. Are you ok?”

My heart slightly sank at the idea that he might’ve just come to check on me because he himself was worried. I discarded the thought, bringing myself back.

“Y/n can you please answer me? If you don’t open the door I’m gonna send in JJ or Emily.”

I sighed, wiping under my eyes where my mascara had smudged, begrudgingly walking over to the door. Just as my hand landed on the silver handle, his voice that was constantly playing in my head echoed out once more.

“Y/n, please? I need to know you’re okay. I’ll come in there myself.”

A soft smirk graced my face as I turned the handle to reveal a worried looking Spencer.

“Y/n, oh God, you had me worried.”

He was quiet when he spoke and his hair looked messy, like he had been running his slender fingers through it in a stress filled state.

I sniffled, attempting to still keep back tears that were still threatening to spill.

“I’m alright, Spencer. Really, I’m fine.”

He gave me a small smile, his eyes meeting my own.

“I know, it’s just that when I had my Diludad problem,” he hesitated.

“I would lock myself in bathrooms to shoot up, and I know you aren’t having a problem like that but I just was worried about you- what are you doing?”

I cut off his rambling by throwing my arms around his middle. He tensed, but quickly melted. He wrapped his strong arms around my shoulders and my waist, laying his head on mine.

“Y/n, I promise you, you’re doing your absolute best to stop Alessia. We wouldn’t even be where we are right now if you hadn’t made the connections. Those deaths are not your fault.”

My tears finally began to cascade like a waterfall, staining his shirt.

“I know, but it’s just like it is all my fault! I could have paid closer attention, or-or, I could have went after her at the zoo, it’s all my fucking fault, Reid.”

I sobbed into his shirt, my hand gripping his shirt like my life depended on it. Like if I let go I would fall into a deep, deep, endless hole.

His hand on my waist moved up to cradle my head.

“It’s not, I promise you-“

He was cut off mid sentence by the ringing of his phone.

“I am so, so sorry-”

I pulled away, breifly touching under my nose with my wrist, then moving a hair behind my ear.

“Nope, it’s fine, don’t worry.” Our words almost had overlapped each other as we clambered to fight the tension that had risen. I closed my eyes, tilting my head up, thinking about how unprofessional yet intimate our previous position had been. How wrong, yet how right it felt.

I kept running the moment through my head, the feeling of his warm figure encasing mine on replay.

His phone call played as background noise to the film playing in my brain, his voice calming me to an extent.

“Yeah, we’re on our way. Thanks, Morgan.”

He closed the phone with a snap, also snapping me out of my trance, putting the movie on pause.

“They’ve got a hit. Copelas was seen dropping by her old apartment.”

And for the first time since that Goddamn case had started, I smiled genuinely.

“Let’s go get her.”

————————

15 Minutes Prior, Central Park, New York

“Hotch?”

“Yes?” He looked back from where he was driving, following our lead in a rushed manner.

“What will we do if she...” I trailed off.

“Hypnotizes one of us?” He finished for me. I nodded solemnly.

The look on his face was conflicted and it took him a moment to come up with a response.

“We kill her before we have to kill one of our team members.”

He saw a look of uncertainty on my face and spoke up once more.

“And that’s an order.”

I nodded again, making eye contact with him through the rear view mirror. I fell back into my seat, closing my eyes briefly.

After a few more minutes on the road, we had arrived.

The doors all slammed to the SUVs, one after the other as we stepped out.

“The letter said that she would be here, somewhere here.”

The voice of Morgan was channeling through my earpiece, referring to the letter found at her apartment that she had left just for us.

“We ordered evac on citizens, correct?”

The unsure voice of JJ was also heard through the earpiece, her uncertainty quite unusual to hear.

“Yes, it was the first thing we did, Jayj.”

I whispered, a sly smirk from Spencer forming at my behavior.  

“Oh shut up.”

“I didn’t even say anything!”

snap!

Our senses adapted, becoming dialed to 11 at the sound of a twig snapping under someone's feet.

“Was that you?” I mouthed to Spencer. He shook his head no and I silently cursed to whatever force was listening.

I nodded, which he then reciprocated, the pair of us slowly walking towards the source of the sound after he did.

“They’re going to remember me, I’ll go down in history.”

The voice was sing-songy and quiet, floating through the air. I took a shaky breath, continuing my steady pace.

My breathing momentarily halted soon after.

Different variations of “Oh my God”s, and loud gasps from almost everyone on the team flooded my ear canal at the horrifying sight in front of us.

Red. So much of it.

“Guys, I think we know what she’s been doing with the bodies’ blood.”

“No shit.” I muttered under my breath.

She was bathed in the blood, it looked like something straight out of a horror movie.

“Alright everyone, I want you to approach her as quietly as possible, Morgan, if you get the chance, corner her.”

Hotch’s voice was a stark contrast to her own, Derek’s response all the same.

—————————

Present Day, Central Park, New York

“But Agents, you still haven’t answered my question. They’re beautiful, aren’t they?”

“Alessia Copeleas, FBI, come on, get up, lets go.”

Derek’s voice was stern, not asking, but demanding that Alessia come with us.

“I’m afraid I just can’t do that, Agents.”

She stood up abruptly, causing all of our weapons to rise. The sun reflected off of the silver metal of Reid’s gun, sparkling in a stunning way that caught me off guard.

We all were trying to act as if we were in total control of the situation, but we could tell that us nor Copelas really believed that. Her words were her weapon, and this was the one time where words could hurt, but sticks and stones had virtually no power.

“Take another step and we will have no hesitation to fire.”

She smirked, rolling her eyes.

“If you do, will I be famous you think? You think they’ll hear about me back home?”

Her curls softly blew in the wind, making her appear almost harmless, maybe even endearing, if it wasn’t for the hardening coat of human blood soaking her clothes and seeping from her skin.

“Is that what you want? The kids back home and everyone here to hear about you? You want ‘Butterfly Baron’ written on every billboard in Times Square, your picture painted in museums, films to be made in your honor?” Reid was the one who spoke up this time, his voice remaining strong. Her eyes shone with a sickening excitement at what he said.

“You want to be famous?”

She nodded vigorously.

“Too bad.”

My eyes widened, surprised at the detour the conversation had taken.

“What-what do you mean?”

“Please, the only thing people will hear about is a sad, boring little girl from a small town who killed to feel better about herself. They’ll forget about you in a week, who knows, maybe they’ll even grow an infatuation with your town, someone you went to school with may get as lucky as to catch their big break!” He laughed, while Alessia looked absolutely devastated.

“You? You’ll be a nobody.”

“That’s not true! I’ll go down in history, and they won’t! I’m the fucking butterfly baron for hells sake! All these people?” She gestured towards her field of bodies.

“You won’t remember their names, maybe not even their pretty faces, but me? I’ll live forever.”

Her nostrils flared and she strode over to Reid with purpose. The safety on my glock clicked off, but Spencer motioned for me to wait. So I did.

“You know, Agent-“

“It’s Doctor.”

This visibly agitated her even more as she started her sentence over again.

“Doctor, you have a beautiful bone structure. Absolutely perfect. Symmetrical, not to mention just flat out stunning.”

A glaze formed over Spencer’s honey eyes at her words. He lowered his gun momentarily before turning towards me, Copelas doing the same.

“And you, Agent. Wow. I feel like I’m in an art exhibit, you’re gorgeous. I think the Doctor man here would agree.”

As he lifted his revolver at me, the situation became all too real as I understood what was happening.

I either had to shoot the man that I was struggling to admit I was beginning to love, or died at the hands of the very same man.

Tears flooded my eyes, all safeties were turned down, and all guns were pointed at Reid.

“Spence, please.”

My voice was weak, something that seemed to bring Alessia lots of joy.

She laughed before talking again, commanding Spencer.

“Pathetic, really! Spence”, she mocked,“shoot her.”

“No!”

bang!

whack!

--------------------- 

Present Day, Somewhere In The Sky, The Jet

I opened my eyes from where I had been tackled to the ground by Hotch, surveying my surroundings to see Alessia laying on the grass, the source of her gunshot wound non-distinguishable from the previous blood on her body.

I looked to the right to see where Spencer had crumpled to, his frame bent in a discombobulated position.

“Spencer!” I cried out, crawling over to him like some sort of dog,

“What happened to him?”

“Y/n, he was going to shoot you-“

“I don’t care you should have let him!”

I cradled his head in my lap, allowing my pent up tears to fall.

“Y/n?”

My eyes snapped open for real this time, my mind calmed at the sight of Spencer sitting next to me on the couch, gently shaking my shoulder in an attempt to wake me from my nightmare.

“Spencer! Sorry, was I too loud?”

He chuckled, gesturing to the rest of the sleeping plane around us.

“You’re fine, I wasn’t sleeping, I decided to reread ‘Fahrenheit 451’ for nostalgia purposes. And you weren’t that loud, you just looked like you were having a bad dream.”

I chuckled at the not-so outlandish idea in an attempt to diminish it from his mind and move on.

“I’m fine. But fun fact, I did have nightmares after reading ‘The Veldt’. Seriously, I don’t get how you can just reread Bradbury’s stuff all the time.”

The genius scoffed, starting a rant on how Ray Bradbury’s storytelling was just classic literature and deserved to be reread, thus successfully changing the topic as I hoped my statement would. Although soon after, he caught on much quicker than I would have liked him to.

“And not to mention, The Veldt alone could be seen as a forewarning to the 21st century and beyond, even Bradbury himself supported that interpretation-‘

I gave him a tired smile, enjoying his rambling like I always did.

“-and you totally just got me to change the subject.”

“I was wondering when you were gonna catch up.”

“Hey!”

He laughed as I rested my head on my hand, trying to fall back asleep.

“Really, I can tell those nightmares are bad. What’s going on?” He questioned, his tone empathetic and compassionate.

“It’s nothing, Reid. I just keep seeing in the park, when Alessia got shot and you-you got hurt but instead of getting up like you did in real life, you just…”

I trailed off, not wanting to relive the negative dream any longer for fear of the tears that were pricking my eyes escaping.

“It’s okay, that didn’t happen, I’m right here.”

He pulled me into a hug, allowing me to bury my head in the crook of his neck, his warmth consuming me once more, a sequel to the film from earlier.

“I know, but what if it hadn’t?” I asked as I pulled away.

He shook his head, reaching for his wallet.

“In this job, this course of work, we can’t focus on ‘what if’s’. In this job, we also get nightmares, all of us. It happens.”

He slid a picture over to me, it was of a happy family. The edges were worn from years of being carried, but the picture seemed loved.

“Gideon gave me that when my nightmares started. He told me about how those families we save everyday, and how that’s what makes what we do worth it. And I know you didn’t know Gideon personally, or the work on the specific case with that family, but I want you to have it anyway-“

I cut him off by throwing my arms around his neck, attempting to speak despite being muffled by his fluffy sweater.

“Thank you, Spence. Truly.”

I smiled, and I imagined he was doing the same.

“No problem y/n. Anytime.”

I moved my legs over to be tucked underneath my arms, leaning into Reid. He wrapped his arm around me, also leaning in. We both managed to fall asleep for the remainder of the ride in our state of content, but not before he managed to sleepily call out my name.

“Y/n?”

“Yeah?”

“When we land do you wanna go on a date or somethin’?”

I smiled at him, separating from his form just long enough to see that beautiful face of his.

“Without a doubt.”

🂦∙🂦∙🂦

AHAHAHHAHAHAHA I’M WAY TOO HAPPY WITH THAT LMAOOO but anyway chile- 

i don’t have some long ass paragraph to write this time omg wig, i’m just proud asf of my work for once (except for the zoo part ngl kinda didn’t like it😳) 

😛✨vibes✨ love u, xx hj

[alo-piss-trancy]

11, 30, 32, 41 for the fanfic writer asks! - Nsfwitchy

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ASKING THESE AHHH 💛

THIS WAS REALLY FUN EVEN IF I HAD TO THINK FOR A WHILE ON SOME OF THEM

((I'm still open for these if anyone else wants to send some btw! I'm just slow af with answering haha but I'll get to them))

11: How do you come up with your fic titles?

Honestly? Part Song Titles/Lyrics and part 'This Line I Wrote Sounds Kinda Pretentious for a Piss Fic... I'm Definitely Gonna Use It'. Or just a general theme. Or a pun. Looking at my fic list... there's a lot of puns in titles.

Tbh I rarely title things until I'm actually on the ao3 posting page so I just scramble to pull one out of my ass XD There's no real method to my madness

30: Post a snippet from your current WIP without context.

"There. You've been graced with more attention from a Togami than a wretch like you ever deserved. I suggest you savour it while you- hrk!"

His words were abruptly cut off by a tightness around his throat, the grip clenching to restrict his airflow, little by little. While admittedly surprised, he didn't panic, merely studying what he could of the arm in his sightline. The metal tips of her scissors traced his Adam's apple, then slid up to dig into the flesh on the underside of his jaw. She didn't draw blood, but all it would take was a hint more pressure. Now that he was forced to lock eyes, she leaned in so that her breath flared in his face. 

"Kiss me like you mean it, pretty boy~" she commanded, leering down at him. She'd climbed onto the edge of the chair for better access, pressing their foreheads together. And, not-so coincidentally, pressed her left knee directly against his swollen abdomen. What breath she hadn't choked out of him was stolen in a pained wheeze, his vision spotting. Now, not only were his teeth swimming, his head was, and he loathed whatever noise of pleading had managed to escape his lips during his lack of focus. She removed both her hand and weapon from his neck, and he only took a moment to inhale before he shoved himself into as much of her as his binds would allow. Her chest, nearly flat enough to rival his own, pressed against him, and he blocked out her obnoxious sighs with a growl, tilting his head to smother her lips. 

32. Copy and paste your top three favorite lines/jokes/sentences you’ve ever written. What fics do they come from?

I swear any other time I'd have a whole list of my best stupid jokes and puns from my fics ready to fling at people but here I am, blanking as soon as I'm asked lmao. Isn't that always how it goes c': I had to dig through my ao3 and this is what I came up with, not sure if they're my ultimate faves bc I tend to pick favourites by the whole fic in general? But here we are!

I tend to write in run-ons and broken sentences so one of these is more like an excerpt? Because otherwise it wouldn't make sense lol

1. "Get down on your knees, my pet." the President purred, and that sound reminded her that she was going to be devoured today, body and soul, by this magnificent predator. The rarest of tigers, regal in its brutality in the way scarlet blood stained snowy fur. "Kneel for me." Her captor insisted, fangs sealed behind serene lips, and she kneeled, her bare knees caressed by a plush rug as she tilted her head back and bared her throat.

Yes. Like the blood of its prey, a messy, distilled part of her would taint Kirari Momobami, would stick with her long after this exchange ended and they parted ways. The President could bite into her, tear her apart in any way she saw fit and gorge upon her, but this would never be a one time affair. She was going to leave her mark before she succumbed...

( 'Freezerburn', a Kakegurui praise kink fic I wrote for a kinkmeme on dreamwidth. I'm a slut for animal imagery lmao )

2. "You can pretend you're some pillow princess, but you're a filthy fuckin' horndog..."

( 'Deny Me, Degrade Me, Desecrate Me', my trashy Good Girls smutfic which also has some choice gunplay excerpts I almost put here instead lol. I need to catch up on that show so I can write them again bc that ship is God Tier)

3. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?!?”

“Dragging you to the bathroom before you piss yourself like a big baby.” Alois deadpanned, blinking down at him. “Even though you’d probably deserve it.”

“You could have accomplished that without caressing me like a harlot. Get your hand off of my arse.”

('Desperate Danse', my beautiful piece of Cielois shenanigans c': I had so much fun with the dialogue exchanges in that fic lol. Annoying poor Ciel is a riot )

41. What’s your most popular fic (with the most notes on tumblr, most hits/kudos on ao3)?

This is actually an interesting question to me because the answer really does vary depending on what your definition of 'popular' is. Do you measure it by hits? Audience interaction? Platform? I had too much fun clicking around the stats page to analyze that so have answers for different criteria:

Hits: 'Getting Your Feet Wet'

Kudos: 'Tear You Apart'

Comment threads: 'Conundrums Lead to Collapse'

Tumblr Notes: 'Cops and Robbers' (and also those Akira drabbles like him in class or in Sojiro's car. Y'all are just absolute sluts for the p5 protag over here lol)

So what I'm getting from this is ao3 prefers my various femslash bs and tumblr wants the Nasty Crime Boi. Which is fine with me bc I love writing both 😎

[blarfkey]

Armistice -- Reylo ficlet

So I’m spending part of my quarantine digging up old fics and polishing them. I wrote this down right after TROS as a way to let some of the Reylo out of my system. I never intended on publishing, but I’ve grown more proud of it. Tell me if I should throw up on AO3.

BTW -- this is only been lightly beta’d lol. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

Ever since Crait, that last look Rey sees on Kylo’s—on Ben’s face—haunts her. As she stared him down from the ramp of the Millennium Falcon, she expected to see anger reflected back at her. Or hatred, jealousy, murderous intent. Especially after hearing how vicious and unhinged his fight was with Luke, how he ordered everyone in the base killed on sight.

Instead she just sees . . .

Grief.

But what haunts her the most is how easily it settles around him, like a second cloak. It’s not a fresh and angry wound, it’s a scar that aches in the middle of the night, that signals the weather, that looks back at you in every mirror.

It’s an old friend.

She knows grief like that.

In the desert, there was always wind whistling through the gaps in her makeshift home. On the Falcon, the ship sang to her in various groans and beeps and whistles. Now, settled on Ajan Kloss, they have to sleep with ear plugs to block out the deafening noise of the jungle.

But nothing is louder than the silence that triggers the Force Bond. It’s her only warning, that sudden dampening, as if someone opened the airlock on a ship. The lack of noise is worse than the noise.

Rey braces herself. So fast—so unpredictably—does he flicker between Kylo and Ben—she never knows what to prepare for. At least on Ahch-to, she had her own anger, her own grief, to guide her. But now boundary lines between friend and enemy have muddled, colors running together to create something she has no idea how to quantify.

He could scream at her or beg for her and she doesn’t know which one is worse. Or how she would react to either.

Instead, only the silence greets her.

Rey turns around and finds him on her bed, laid out on his back, one arm bent against his chest, the other nestled against his side.

He looks dead.

Fear—sharp and surprising—rises in her throat and she takes careful, silent steps towards him. Close enough to see his chest fall ever so slightly. Her own chest rises and falls with her relief, and then she chastises herself for being ridiculous. Of course he’s not dead. She would know— instantly—

He snorts softly in his sleep. Rey freezes, both dreading and hoping for the moment he wakes up. His head drops to its side and does not stir again.

She hears nothing but the sound of his breathing, deep and even. The first time he took off his mask struck her speechless. The monster she had feared looked so young. So impossibly human.

And that’s the way he looks now, in the dim light of her room. He sleeps with the depth of the exhausted and it has eased the furrow in his brow, the drag of his lips, hidden the ferocity of his eyes. He looks like a vision of another person, another Ben, someone who didn’t turn, someone whose hand she could take.

It’s that thought that carries her to the edge of the bed. She hesitates a moment before slowly lowering herself to perch on the edge.

Still he does not wake.

Her hand reaches out and nudges a lock of his hair from his forehead. He has a mole, buried in the hairline by his temple. The urge to kiss it rises up in her, fueled by the knowledge that she could probably get away with it in his current state. Rey swallows, brings her hand down to his chest, and clasps his hand—the one she could not take -- in her own. Her palm rests whisper-light against the back of his hand, her fingers barely skimming the sides of his own.

She sits like this for a long moment, watching him breathe, tracing the lines of his profile. Trying to remind herself of who he could be, if she could just reach him. Any moment now, the connection will break and this moment will become just a memory, but right now, it’s real and it’s hers. It’s one moment of peace between them after so much fighting, so much pain and bitterness and betrayal.

The press of his thumb jolts her from her thoughts. She stares as it brushes, almost reverently, across her knuckles. Her heart leaps in her throat, forcing her to take long, deep breaths. She drags her gaze to his face precisely because of how afraid she is to do it.

His eyes are heavy-lidded from sleep and look at her with such yearning, it hits her like a sucker punch. She hardly dares to breathe as he lifts her hand slowly, gently, to his lips.

His mouth is hot like a brand.

And then he’s gone.

When he saw Rey at his bedside, he thought he had dreamed her. He had been awake for days, the sting of their loss on Crait sending the rest of the First Order scrambling. There was no way she could be real. After all they put each other through, he expects nothing more than her rage.

Such raw power, such feral anger—she reminds him so much of himself. She walks the knife’s edge; if he thought he could just reach her, he could tip her over into the abyss with himself.

But that was Snoke’s desire. He doesn’t want her to turn, to lose that brightness within her, he just wanted—wants—her near. He wants to not be alone. He wants someone who understands him, who looks at him full of hope, and kindness—like she did in the elevator.

And for a moment, his weak, stupid self thought he could have it.

So when he felt her fingers ever so carefully latch onto his, he knew it was a trick of the mind—a fresh way to torture himself. He kissed her hand the way he would have done if she had taken it—and then he woke up.

Now he stares down at her prone form, her knees tucked into her chest, breathing deep and even, and realizes it was not a dream at all.

Rey of Jakku sleeps the rest of the exhausted. She does not stir at his sudden presence. His lightsaber hangs from his belt. He could kill her before she could take her next breath.

Even lost in the depths of his anger, he never had the will to act on such a thought. And he doesn’t think he ever shall, even if her own blade sits at his throat.

In sleep, her hair drapes in disarray. It spills over her shoulder, dangerously close to catching in the small, open-mouthed snores that tumble from her lips.

He remembers—suddenly—vividly—her fingers brushing back a lock of his hair from his brow. In his dream state, it had felt like his mother.

In that moment, she could have done herself the favor of killing him.

(If she had turned like he thought he wanted, she would have.)

Slowly, on the verge of chastising himself, he kneels at the side of her bed and reaches out.

Instantly, he recoils at the stark contrast of his dark leather gloves against the paleness of her cheek. It reminds him too much of the interrogation chamber, of how deeply he tried to frighten her— precisely because she unsettled him so much.

Of how terribly that backfired on him.

Finger by finger, he tugs off his glove before reaching for her again. The wavy strands of her hair feel glossy against his finger tips. He keeps his touch feather-light as he tucks her hair behind her ear, hardly daring to believe his own audacity. A lock of her hair slips back like water down her cheek. His thumb brushes against the shell of her ear as he brushes it back.

She mumbles something too garbled and faint to understand, her hand drifting to wrap softly around his. He freezes when her eyes start to flutter open, struggling to drag herself from sleep. He needs to step away—he needs distance—what is she going to think when she wakes to him touching her—

Frozen in place, he watches helplessly as the fog of sleep clears from her gaze. He sees the exact moment clarity appears, when reality crystallizes behind those eyes.

His breath lies trapped in his lungs, bracing for her reaction.

She tenses beneath him, muscles coiled and ready—a wariness that tries hard not to tumble into fear flashing in her eyes.

It shames him. When he saw her at his bedside, even as a dream, her presence never struck him as anything but welcome.

He hovers over hers like a nightmare.

He pulls his hand back, but she only grips it tighter, her eyes searching his with an intensity that makes him feel horrifically exposed.

“Hello, Ben,” she murmurs, voice soft with sleep.

He swallows against the lump in his throat. The name doesn’t hurt like it used to.

“I thought it was a dream,” he whispers to her. “But it was you, wasn’t it?”

Maybe that’s why he’s here, hand clutched in hers, to confirm for himself the moment that has haunted him.

“Yes.” Her gaze dips away from his with faint embarrassment. “I’m . . . sorry.”

Sorry . . . to offer him mercy, kindness, comfort . . . when he deserves nothing but her all-consuming rage.

He shakes his head. “Look at what I’m doing.”

His hand is still buried in her hairline, thumb still resting against her ear.

It’s not so much a smile as the possibility of one that softens her mouth. Memories from the elevator flash across his mind. It’s as hard to look away from her lips then as it is now.

If she hadn’t disappeared, he doesn’t know what he would have done.

The first thing Leia taught her in her training was how to sense and block others with the Force. Knowing how Rey’s interrogation went with Kylo Ren, keeping him from discovering the base becomes a matter of the greatest priority. Especially since there are so few of them left.

Rey expected the bond to die along with Snoke, not to become stronger. When they touched hands on Ach-to, it felt nothing as solid as the lips on her fingers, that first night in her room. And the touch of his hand in her hair, beneath her fingers—it took a long moment of panic before she could convince herself that he hadn’t physically broken into the base.

When they come together, it feels too real. What would happen if they started seeing each other’s surroundings? What if he hears Leia in the background?

The risk is too great. So Rey spends weeks building up her walls until she can’t feel him anymore. Each time it feels like a betrayal, an abandonment.

Each time does not get easier.

That agility course will be the death of her. She knows it. It’s impossible. If Luke finished it, then he’s a goddamn liar.

Oh, but she came so close today.

She collapses on her pallet in the Falcon, utterly drained. In fact, as the pull of sleep grows heavier, she nearly misses the sudden density of silence, a pleasant weight beside her, another warm breath near her ear.

Rey’s hand flops to the side and it hits something—someone—solid.

She turns sluggishly to face him. He lies next to her, on his side, dark circles haunting his eyes.

It has been months and months since she has seen him or felt him. What does it say about her that she missed these stolen moments of peace?

His eyes track hers with a dark intensity that was not present in their previous interactions. A thread of unease runs through her. Rey swallows and burrows her head into her pillow.

“I’m too tired for a fight,” she murmurs to him.

“I don’t want one.”

But his eyes say differently. They bear down on her, as fathomless as space, only made sharper by the dark circles that lie underneath.

Tentatively, Rey reaches out and brushes her hand against his cheek. She has much more experience in provocation than comfort, especially with him, but she doesn’t like the hard edge of that look in his eyes. Something has changed between then and now, despite them not having a formal confrontation since Crait.

Are you alright? she wants to ask. What happened? What did I do?

Ridiculous questions, each one. As if he would answer. As if she doesn’t already know the answer.

Her thumb swipes delicately across his cheekbone as her fingers trace the stark line of his jaw. His eyes flutter closed. He feels so warm, solid, and alive underneath her touch. It is almost impossible to believe that he isn’t in this very room with her.

The dip of his scar brushes against her thumb and she flinches, jerking her hand away. His eyes snap open, his gaze sharpening with—not condemnation, exactly . . .

Acknowledgment.

“You should admire your handiwork,” he murmurs, pressing her hand with his against the scar.

Rey swallows. Presses her palm down the ridge of his scar as if she could erase it with her touch. In that moment, she had been feral with rage. If the earth had not shattered in half, she might have very well killed him. In fact, as she boarded the Falcon while his reinforcements were out of sight, she believed she had.

The first time she saw it, his scar—blackened with stitches—she felt a surge of pride. The great and fearsome Kylo Ren, taken down by a scavenger with a borrowed lightsaber she had never used before

Now the sight of it makes her sick.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers.

“Don’t,” he bites back.

Don’t start, his eyes say to her. Don’t say things you can’t take back.

So far, there has been an unspoken rule—do not mention the past. They are skirting dangerously close to breaking it.

“Okay,” she says, tracing the edge of his hairline, whispering over the mole she discovered. “Okay.”

For a long moment, they do nothing but gaze at each other. Rey catalogs the freckles and beauty marks dotting along on his cheeks and forehead, the slope of his nose; the faint shadow of stubble above his lips. An unwelcome truth struck her,  as it did that moment on their way to see Snoke: how could someone mired in so much darkness be so beautiful?

Because he had so much light just waiting to be uncovered—or so she thought. As if Rey, a nobody, could have ever been enough to reach him in such inky darkness.

What thoughts must he have for her, she has no idea, as his gaze skates from her brow, to her nose, to her lips. Whatever they may be, his gaze sharpens with sudden resolve. His hand bridges the distance to cups her cheek, her jaw, the broad span of his palm a warm, comfortable weight.

She leans into hit.

“I’m coming for you, Rey,” he says. “I won’t stop until I find you.”

She swallows.

Something surges in her core, crackling underneath her skin.

It’s not fear.

Anticipation.

“And what exactly is going to happen to me when you do?” she finds herself whispering back.

“You’ll find out when I get to you.”

She swallows, her eyes dipping down to his mouth. “That’s if you catch me first.”

He mirrors her gaze, eyes locking on her lips, much like they did in the elevator.

“I guess we shall see,” he says.

He leans into her, thumb dragging across the corner of her mouth—

For a wild moment, she thinks he is going to kiss her.

For a wild moment, she is going to let him.

And then he’s gone.

[secretagentspydetectiveninja]

hey so remember like last year when i was re-reading misadventures and fixing typos? (well, i say that, but it was just an excuse to re-read it and write some absolutely absurd commentary on it...) i found old notes in my phone from january with even more so guess i may as well post it because people seemed to find it funny at the time, it’s basically just The Misadventures of Aish Realizing Things though

[yeah so here’s the original notes i’m not even gonna change anything even though lots of Lore has happened in the show and we Know things now, you just get to see what january aish typed]

ok well let’s go then chapters 31-35 oh god

oh yeah the ML Blackout! I remember that

hm it’s occurring to me maaaaaybe I should post a bit of a warning on this chapter. like “yes this starts off stupid and cracky and fluffy but takes a complete 180 in the middle and you will end up sobbing.”

or maybe I should put that as a disclaimer on the whole fic cause it’s one hell of a ride

THE AROACE SCIENCE JOURNAL YESSSSSSS THAT COMES BACK LATER

yeah the reason why the early parts of this chapter are very lighthearted is honestly because the fic was getting a bit too bleak, I needed something cheerful, so paper planes and arm wrestles it was

wait... isn’t this just that scene from Anansi??? where like Nora challenges Nino to an arm wrestle but then he wins because Someone Else Nearby Did A Thing

also this is Peak characterization, damn Aish, you rly outdone yourself, congration

any time I drop the word “inkling” into a fic it is always 100% a splatoon reference

MAX WOW TONE DOWN THE GAY

heh... BI-ceps...

oh my godddd Max trying to play off his ogling as “ah yes I am scientifically studying Kim’s arm muscles ofc, it’s science I swear” is SO frickin funny I’m already losing it

Alix: “scientifically speaking I’m hot therefore you have to lose this arm wrestle” hshdhdghshskkjkdhshs

^literally the kind of nonsense every single teen I know spouts irl

including me when I was a teen, I just said things

(I still just say things)

you can’t bring up the sports bra thing goddammit, I agree it’s cheating because it has the power to one-hit kill anyone in the vicinity

I love how Max thinks his crush on Kim is “under control” while like. visibly swooning over him

OH MY GOD THE PILLOWS SHHDJDHDHDHSKHS

OKAY SO LIKE I was supposed to put the thing about Kim snogging a pillow in chapter 20 but I forgot or something and then I just had to get it in somehow, oh it kills me dead just thinking about it, I’m dying, I’m dead

and the fact that he admits to it as well, holy moly

KIM

K I M

THAT’S GAY

OH WOW

this is the moment when Alix’s Kimax shipper heart was suddenly feeling validated like “omg wait Kim DOES like Max??? like for real??????”

awwwww Kim, Max doesn’t have those kind of superpowers, you just have a crush on him that’s all <3

THE SKATEBOARDING SNEK!!!!!!!!!!!!

“What the heck is that?” “My snake.” DYINGGGG

Kim trying to figure out if the snake is sitting or standing is a whole mood

ohhhhhhhh my gosh poor Alix trying so damn hard to subtly ask Kim if he likes Max and Kim’s just. so DUMB he doesn’t even get it no matter how obvious she is

she’s even trying to pull out those stupid amatonormative “so is he MORE than a friend???” questions just to get this idiot to figure it out because she knows allo-romos are Like That and he still doesn’t get it,,

[future aish says: the word is alloro, past aish. it’s alloro]

AND SO NOW SHE ASSUMES THEY’RE NOT INTO EACH OTHER BECAUSE SHE THINKS EVEN KIM CAN’T BE THAT STUPID

YOU UNDERESTIMATE HIS STUPIDITY

oh no... oh NO.... the letter.... here we go....

btw yes Gabriel had Kim’s grandad assassinated, it was indeed his doing

...isn’t this lowkey the plot of The Lion King?

or Long Live The Queen

hmmm let’s just say in the sequel poor Kim really will have to deal with the stresses of ruling a country >:D

NO MY POOR SON HAVING A BREAKDOWN, I WANT TO HUG HIM

(also can I just say like... this chapter is actually well-written for the most part? I’m actually kinda impressed)

unfortunately I know the feeling of wanting, needing to return home, but it fills you with dread... *hugs Kim forever*

Kim crying all over Max both hurts me and sort of heals me because Max is so sweet and comforting about it ohhh my heeeaaart

AWWWWWWWWWWWWWW

THIS IS LOWKEY A LOVE CONFESSION I SWEAR, IT’S SO CUTE

chapter 32 being called “Un chat noir” is kinda dumb af but also it just so happened that I accidentally had the chapter called “Coccinelle” be chapter 64, aka exactly double of 32, so that was kinda neat

Plagggggg!!!!!!!!!!

and Wayhem lol, I think I’ve already mentioned how originally this noble was just some random irrelevant unnamed OC until I decided way later it’s gay stalker fanboy

oh yeah that’s how the nobility recognize the royalty, I forgot lol

(also nobles from countries with widespread newspress or tv will recognize them from news reports and stuff I guess)

the fact that Plagg just hates Wayhem is funny to me for some reason

MISADVENTURES

HOLY SHIT I ACTUALLY THREW IN THE ACTUAL WORD

except it was in reference to Adrien... let’s just say that The Misadventures of Imperial Prince Adrien may or may not make an appearance in the sequel >:D

...the Adrienette is literally just in this fic so that people would read it, ngl

hhhhhhhhhhhh okay it’s true Alix is an aro idiot who doesn’t know anything about romance but for once she’s RIGHT, Kim IS in love with Max, but she assumes she’s wrong hshgshdjhdnsnsh

oh my god noooo timeline twin go away and stop giving me nightmares

I still love how they hate each other, that’s some top-notch self-hatred right there and I need to get on their level

[future aish note: no past self!! be nice to yourself!! you are a cool bean!! own it!!]

YOU FOOL... EVERY CLASSMATE WOULD TAKE A SWORD TO THE HAND FOR ALIX, WHY WOULDN’T THEY

ỳïķèš,,,

honestly I probably should stop being lazy and actually go back to like idk chapter 8 and put in an actual monopoly game (it had to have been before the oracle sessions in ch10 at least)

fun fact!! I have indeed very nearly had a fist fight over the last dark blue card in a monopoly game!! also I blatantly cheated, and the main opponent locked someone else (an 8 year old btw) in a cupboard... it was Wild(TM)

me and my irl friend actually came up with the butterfly thing when we were at the cinema once, she made up this random angry gardener OC who stepped on a butterfly after being fired or something lol

I mentioned Rose liking unicorns!!!! before Captain Hardrock!!!!!!!

shdhdhkshs Alix is such a moody emo brat in this fic I adore it

“The only real difference between you and me is one dead butterfly.” goddammit that’s the creepiest fucking thing, I’m genuinely shaking

technically it’s a butterfly’s fault for ALL the timelines which means that we’re all one butterfly away from death at any moment

cheerful stuff

no, no, you’re not trying to block it out on purpose... I’M trying to block it out on purpose bc I’m highkey shamelessly projecting

god I wish my timeline twin would manifest in the astral plane and punch me in the arm too

“Count yourself lucky you’re not a pillow, idiot.” in-context this is contender for Most Cursed Line I Have Ever Written In My Life

and yes Alix was about to straight-up swear

Mylène rollerskating is extremely blessed and good

pfffffffff Max you coward, I stand on swivel chairs all the time

*me, chanting at the spider in my room* KIMAX! KIMAX! KIMAX!

Kim literally making every excuse to not put Max down is amazing honestly

Kim and Max’s origins story is sooooooooooo cute wtf

THIS IS SO BLESSED OH MY HEART

HE’S JUST STANDING THERE CUDDLING HIM I’M

DECEASED

I,,,, swear to god,,,,,,,

so like. I know it’s now canon in the show that Kim really is as oblivious to his feelings as I wrote him in this. but MY GOD. IT’S FRIGGIN PAINFUL

KIM YOU ARE IN LOVE WITH MAX, FULL HOMO, THAT’S WHY YOU’RE FEELING LIKE THIS, IT’S NOT THAT COMPLICATED DAMMIT

oh yeah I wrote the kimax bits rly early and my old url was @queenkubdel haha

aight now a no-kimax chapter, but at least it’s a goodun

there’s that catradora-esque weather girls frenemyship again

Kim having a full-on breakdown when he finds out Alix’s hair isn’t really pink is actually really blessed, no lemme explain

so this universe has magic, right?? so he thinks to himself that the reason his friend has pink hair is because she must be some sort of anime protagonist or Really Important and Cool or something, and it never even occurred to him to doubt her

in other words he’s betrayed because he WANTED HIS FRIEND TO BE A COOL SHONEN HERO

which is both hilarious AND very sweet

...oh wait I’ve scrolled down and it turns out I literally explained all that in the fic itself hhdgjdvzjdjhs

and yeah honestly I can’t blame poor Kim for taking it so badly, he’s still reeling from his grandfather’s assassination so it’s natural his emotions are not exactly Regulated atm

actually when are his emotions ever regulated

1703-1899 hm... might change that since the fic takes place in 1957-1960 so even though it’s a commissioned history of the empire it was before Gabriel was even born so like why would he even care lmao

“Great Western Ocean” so pretentious, just say the Atlantic omg

I’ve been playing way too much civ because the first thing that came to mind was that everyone’s denounced Agreste due to the high warmongering penalties of the industrial/modern eras

Chloé and Kim is one hell of a brotp okay I still firmly believe that

also Chloé still loves her rococo fashion, she’s just toned it down enough that she can fit through doors and it’s not quite as “in your face” towards commoners

listen I know in the show Kim still liked Chloé for a while after Dark Cupid but in this he got over her quicker because his crush on her wasn’t as deep in the first place

Kim literally tells Chloé he gave the brooch to Max and yet STILL doesn’t realize he likes him!!! KIM!!!!!!!!!!

Chlodemption arc yesssssssss

also she’s a lesbeean

(ye Pollen will be in the sequel don’t you worry)

god I’m so proud of her <3

it feels believable too, so I’m proud of myself!! (I’m trying to be nice to myself before next chapter where I will no doubt roast myself so badly I’ll never recover)

outdated laws about marriage... jeez was that cursed foreshadowing or what

YES IT’S IVAN, I LOVE THIS BOY, HE’S SO GRUMPY AND ANGRY ALL THE TIME AND HE HATES KIM

...actually wait this is sibling culture

I literally speak like this to my brother and he’s my best friend so in conclusion Ivan thinks of Kim as an annoying brother

Jalil why are you a historian. just go be a psychologist and stop your sister accidentally hecking up the country

omg the Antarctica thing, I’m just imagining Jalil in the freezing cold with a massive coat on and getting chased by penguins

I love how the timeline twin’s plan was “escape school, force Adrien to get a venomous pet, then abandon him immediately in the middle of nowhere” and later on it turns out she skipped step two and just ditched him lmaoooooo

being so ace that your brain goes straight to “death and murder” before anything else is the biggest mood, I speak from experience

Jalil knows... he had that conversation with Kim in chapter 20... he Knows

“a bit unsupportive” um that is an extreme understatement good grief he was more savage than ME

RISE OF THE KIMAX SHIPPERS

oh don’t worry the venom death still haunts me too

chapter I Hate You... “A rather rotten winter party” well it should have been named A RATHER ROTTEN CHAPTER DO YOU KNOW HOW IMPOSSIBLE THIS ONE WAS TO WRITE OMG I HATE WRITING MYSELF INTO CORNERS

you see I had to have a motive for the timeline twin to explain things properly so that I could put in a really really dumb pun later but that meant I had to unfortunately suffer many allergic reactions again

[future aish note: forgot to mention, i also needed a motive for kim to stop eating chocolate forever, so i had to Curse this chapter as a sacrifice in order to save his life later on]

alright, alright, here we go, I’ll stop procrastinating and just get this over with

oh yeah it’s chapters like these that the fic’s rated T lol

the Adrikim friendship is indeed important... for later... like, plot-relevant levels of important... life-saving levels...

“some event” is the Peace Ball actually and I can’t wait because that chapter’s actually a good one

KIM BRAGGING ABOUT KISSING ADRIEN LAST YEAR IS SO FUCKING FUNNY OH MY GOD I’M LOSING MY MIND???

like last year he was LITERALLY LIKE “oh boo hoo I cannot tell anyone about this because Adrien is Ã Bøyê” and now he’s just like “yeah I kissed a hot boy and what about it???”

to be fair he is on an extreme sugar rush from all the chocolate he ate, which will... be a plot point in just a moment...

PILLOW GIRLFRIEND

I’m the amused nobles, they are me

oh my god Kim we get it you want to kiss someone (Max) and you don’t want to outright say it

holy shit do any of these kids ever think before they speak??? not to sound like the timeline twin or anything but alix... you could have avoided this if you’d bothered to use your one (1) brain cell

[future aish note: bold of me to assume that alix has a brain cell]

Kim wants to now fight his PARALLEL SELF oh my god, get on my level Kim, I want to fight my actual self like right now so there

stfu all of you, this is poisoning my liver

Max is the biggest mood and at least mildly sensible thank god, but he really shouldn’t have left those two alone for even a second

I AGREE PLATONIC LOVE IS UNDERRATED

the chair... the fucking c h a i r... I’m already lying down but I need to lie down harder just to process the absurdity of this

(I think I was gonna have Alix fall off the chair just because that’s hilarious but I forgot)

look I can’t take heartrate seriously but if you ever write it then you are legally required to put in kissing contests or you’re doing it wrong

fudgin Adrienette kiss offscreen and irrelevant

DJWIFI!!! AND ACTUAL PROPER DJWIFI!!!! I was sick of seeing it treated as some kind of pair-the-spares beta couple so I flipped the script and had them literally call out that trope while treating Adrienette as irrelevant instead, which is also why the sequel will be extremely djwifi-centric

“super swanky bae” please stop misusing commoner slang I’m begging you

THERE’S THE PLOT POINT I WAS TALKING ABOUT

Theo was right here, he witnessed with his own eyes how much chocolate Kim ate, so he knows for a fact that if you give Kim chocolate he will scarf it down without a second thought... so hypothetically if one sent him poisoned chocolates... dyou see where I’m going with this...

oh and Theo still has like every job btw

Alya!!!! no!!!!! hire him again!!!!!!!! then he won’t send the chocolates!!!!!!!!!! aaaahhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!

there goes me hinting how alyadrininette is the ultimate ot4 again

...do I really wanna scroll down and keep going? no I don’t but I guess I gotta, and relive every one of my most embarrassing school sleepovers in the process

full offence to everyone bothering to read this but kissing sounds gross, actually

(for the record it was probably like... 10 seconds or something idk it was Not Long At All)

“probably not more than 5 minutes” omg I just said it was 10 seconds??? hmmm m okay like 20 seconds maaaybe, Kim just has no sense of time perception

neither do I based on my microwaving skills

SHIT THIS IS LITERALLY A SCHOOL SLEEPOVER

INNOCENT DUMBASS AROACE ASKING “what does that mean? what’s this? what’s that? it’s okay you can tell me :-)”

omg I forgot the snake was there ahshdhdkshfs I’m the snake, probably wants to launch itself out of the window so big mood

most of the fic so far had Alix being really aro so I was like damn... gotta make her really ace too

(if I ever bother writing the Kimdine AU then you actually get an aro character who isn’t ace, because we need more of them, but I won’t say who) (okay fine it’s Luka)

I tend not to be too British in my writing so as not to give the Americans heart attacks whenever they see someone referring to their mother as “mum” etc, but like... sometimes you just gotta throw in the word “snogging”

(I’m typing this out on my phone rn and it has exactly 69% battery, I hate this and also hate that I felt the need to mention that)

THE HOCKEY THING MAY OR MAY NOT HAVE BEEN BASED OFF A REAL LIFE THING. *SWEATS NERVOUSLY*

honestly I was soooooo tempted to actually write The Talk bit, it would have been the funniest thing ever, but I was also 99% sure I would have to change the rating to M (despite it not even remotely being smut lol, just a regular biology lesson) and there was no way I was doing that, pretty sure I pushed the T rating at some points as it is

[future aish: god i am still so tempted to write it. man, i’m tempted. it would be the funniest thing. but no... i have sworn not to write anything above a T rating so guess i won’t.]

YEAH THE THROWING UP THING TOO WAS DEFINITELY NOT BASED ON REAL LIFE OR ANYTHING *MORE NERVOUS SWEATING*

(it genuinely wasn’t a flowerpot though. it’s my life’s goal to throw up in a flowerpot and I still haven’t achieved it.)

all of this is an Ace Mood(TM)

also I love how elaborately I’ve worded this, like yeah idiot royal teenagers are too royal and posh to ever bother just saying the word “sex” like a normal person

to any 17 year old aces: you aren’t too young to know, I told myself that aggressively when I was 17 but now I’m 22 and I’m still just as ace as I always was sooooo yeah

I also hope I can wake up tomorrow and forget I read this trash

well tbh... it’s not total trash... it highkey reminds me of my school days, like, maybe that was subconscious or something... god who even knows

jeez if timeline twin slapped me in the face I’d just keel over and die from sheer terror, other than that that’s HILARIOUS

timeline twin: “YOU HAVE ONE (1) BRAIN CELL NOW P L E A S E CONSIDER USING IT”

fuckeninf hell listen,,, so when I was writing this chapter I didn’t know I was aro... I mean, I was kinda questioning it?? but all I knew was I was ace, and that me not knowing that as a teenager almost totally screwed me over because like

to be normal or to feel normal there’s things you do or say that you don’t want, and things you know would happen or whether you want something or not you’ll take it because you think you’re expected to, because otherwise you’ll have to confront yourself with the fact that something is wrong with you and you don’t know what or why or how to fix it

and being aro on top of that is misunderstanding how to navigate close friendships because of this fundamental fear that if you want to be close with someone then friendship can’t suffice, that how much you care about them doesn’t matter

and things I did or almost did, or had the chance to do and only stopped because (awfully enough) crippling anxiety which ironically saved me (let’s just say the dude turned out to be a creep)... yeah basically this is all a callback to that aroace teenager feel where you can’t help not being true to yourself because you don’t want to, because you don’t know what’s wrong or right, only what’s “normal” and the ache of knowing that you’re not, no matter how much you try

and I didn’t know I was aro while writing this but in hindsight it’s easy to see how that played into it too, and writing this definitely played a part in me realizing I’m aro and was somehow trying to work through some very pent-up feelings about friendship and closeness with people, as well as pent-up feelings about being ace and how that tied into everything too

...in short, do not phuck the pharaoh or you will get HOUSE ARRESTED and DIE

(jk jk she’ll just be awkward around you forever lol, and then SHE’LL get house arrested and die, because you’re not commoners so your actions actually have consequences you dumb idiots)

this entire thing is just a whole mood and lowkey my teenage years holy fuck holy fuck I hate that I’m only just realizing how bloody hard I was projecting

I literally read a post the other day about how unrequited love is only ever usually explored from the perspective of the person who’s in love, whereas aros are usually on the receiving end of it and it’s a tragedy in its own right that you might do things that wind up driving you apart because you can’t bring yourself to love them back but you can’t tell them because of the fear that it’ll push them away... and I gotta say, I totally nailed it 💪

...you know what I’ve changed my mind, chapter 34 is good actually, and now I need to make a time machine and go and hug my 17 year old self for living this, and then hug my 20 year old self for writing this, I’m sorry I was mean to this chapter it’s very relatable and I shouldn’t keep beating myself up over it

thinking makes me miserable too!! that’s why it’s optimistic nihilism only lads

impulse control, hmmm... someone who’s good for him, hmmmmmm... it’s almost like someone like that is right there and exists and is already in love with him 😏

so apparently timeline twin’s idea of “fixing her life” is burning all her bridges and then hecking off to the Kazakh wilderness for over a year

did Alix just... ask the snake if it’s aroace too???

I mean it definitely is, but...

UGH SNAKES DON’T BLINK, I’M STILL SO ANGRY ABOUT THIS

chapter 35, thank god, the title “Finally!” is very apt

(because I can finally change the music from Death Valley to something else lol)

oh poor Max, his heart goes on a real rollercoaster these few chapters doesn’t it? it’s okay buddy, in like 10 chapters you’ll get your man...

NO BUT SHE H A S FIGURED IT OUT!!! SORT OF!!!

I just misread “despite” as “despacito”, I’m going to bed and continuing this tomorrow dammit

alright I am now funky refreshed and ready to roll, let’s get this kimax party started

Max is angsting internally like “no one’s realized I like Kim :( well except Juleka but she’s a lesbian so she doesn’t count” ashgdjsghskk that mlm/wlw solidarity is holding out I see

YES ALIX YOU DO NEED TO TALK TO NATH MORE, THAT’S YOUR FREAKING BEST BUD IN THE SHOW MAY I REMIND YOU

this is all so Irony it’s murdering me dead

okay yeah I’m gonna be really honest and salty here for a second, this bit where Max is annoyed that Alix takes Nath more seriously as a contender than him was me being a bit salty over the fact that like... kimnath/tomato ketchup is a great rarepair but got so weirdly popular amongst people who didn’t seem to care about Max as a character at all despite how close he is with Kim in canon, and as a Max Stan it made me sad because he’s already not very appreciated in fandom

[future aish note: HE IS NOW BABEY!]

THERE IT IS

I WANT TO HUG MAX TOO, BLESS HIM

I also want to hug Alix because godddds I’ve been in that situation where if you were allowed to just TELL the idiots that they like each other then all their problems would be solved but noooo, you’re sworn to secrecy... *sigh*

“I’ll make sure that doesn’t change, ever...” me: *thinks about the sequel and cackles evilly while cracking my knuckles* well,,

A R O M A N T I C

listen it was VERY IMPORTANT to me that I actually put in all these actual words in the fic and made them relevant, like gay, lesbian, bisexual, etc (I think the only one I didn’t was trans, oops?? gotta remember that for the sequel, at least Nino IS trans in this even though I never said the word)

[future aish note: i feel like i didn’t say pan either, or nonbinary... more stuff for the sequel folks! i can’t put in everything but i may as well try!]

bc you see all these tv shows where a character is bi but they say they “don’t like labels” or a character with no love interest get suddenly paired up with someone random at the end... like NO I wanted to do the OPPOSITE of that bc people’s identities are IMPORTANT so I wanted to MAKE IT RELEVANT 💪

and even though I didn’t yet know here that I was aro and highkey projecting, there’s already a fair few fics dealing with asexuality but not aromanticism?? so I rly wanted to make the aro side of things important

almost relieved??? Max, you buffoon, she IS relieved, extremely

Malix friendship is good and severely underrated and I still haven’t forgiven myself for not putting more of it in this

“He was never eating chocolate again” HO-HO-HOLY SHIT THAT’S SOME FORESHADOWING RIGHT THERE

Rose is a distinguished bi who doesn’t realize Kim is a disaster bi

Kim oh my god you can’t just out Adrien “just about functional bi” Agreste like that

I love that Rose calls Kim a casanova even though he’s very much not... how many people are even into him over the course of the fic? Max, Adrien, it’s implied Marinette used to be, Lila is ambiguous, same with the lacrosse guy later, oh yeah Ondine highkey lmao along with 90% of the teenage population of Saharan Africa, Kim himself in about 2 chapters time...

Rose giving Kim the gay talk is so blessed omg I need more interaction between these two

“If you swung one way you were gay, if you swung the other way you were straight, more than one way made you bisexual, if you didn’t swing any way at all then you were probably just Alix...” I will literally NEVER be able to outdo this line, this is Peak

hmm I don’t think at any point in the fic Max says to Kim that he’s exclusively into boys... I guess he said it offscreen then lol, point is He’s Gay

OMG KIM, YOU FINALLY REALIZED WHAT THE NOSEBLEED SCENE MEANT, GOD BLESS YOU

this is like in Syren when he realizes the mermaid is Ondine and that she was trying to tell him she likes him... except this is the gay version of that

yeah Rose I really do need to get more sleep, that one was directed at me and I know it was

Kim being all like “fellas is it gay if you take off your shirt and a guy swoons at you 🤔🤔🤔”

no, no... Max is definitely a complete trainwreck at romance, just slightly less than you

god freaking dammit not the sports bra again,,, I s2g later in the fic all Ondine would have had to do is to show up in a sports bra and Kim would immediately go full ot3 mode no questions asked,,,,,,,, (I mean he does see her in a swimsuit but that’s not the same??? sports bras are in a different league okay shush)

psssssst!!! you should read heartbroken!!!! it’s a kimax fic and it’s so good!!!!! this was a lowkey shoutout!!!!!!!!

genuinely tho, even if Kim hadn’t liked Max too here, he’s being so sweet about it?? he’s worried about his poor friend’s emotional state and wishes he could have done better to help!! gahhhh their friendship/relationship is just So Blessèd

hsndhkdhdkshdh I only noticed it after finishing the fic and occasionally skimming back through, but so much of the time whenever Alix shows up Kim’s all like *ungrateful* “oh not you again” like WOW that’s one way to greet your friend?? mood tho

[future aish note: i did the exact opposite in No Romo, funnily enough! kim’s not in it much but whenever he sees alix he’s like “friend!!! friend!!!!!” and she’s just like -_- “oh it’s that guy again”]

he’s not even paying attention to her omg she’s trying to save the timeline here you idiot

POOR ALIX how frustrating,,, and also I’ve literally been there,,, the woes of being a wing-girl indeed

and now Kim wants to fight himself, why am I not surprised

aND YES HERE’S WHERE IT HITS HIM, THE EXACT FUCKING MOMENT

WHERE HE’S SUDDENLY LIKE “OH WAIT MAX’S LOVE FOR ME ISN’T UNREQUITED??? I LIKE HIM TOO HOLY SHIT????”

aaaaaaand he immediately asks the aro for love advice, why is he like this omg

gosh this is sooooo sweeeeeet

I did not let up, did I? just went ahead and made this as cheesy and cutesy and over the top as I could because It’s What Kimax Deserves

(there wasn’t rly much Kimax content yet in the fandom at this point so I had total free reign and went all-out with it)

sfjsgskdhs and there goes Alix getting her wing-efforts sidelined again

“I’m never asking out someone on a whim again. Or, uh, confessing that I like someone on a whim either.” so uh... you know how I said I’m considering making the sequel Kimaxdine? well if I do then uh. hm. this might change. because reasons.

I don’t know why I made nothing Alix ever says make sense but I’m glad I did because she’s so freaking funny

I swear I talk about Max’s eyes being “magnified in his glasses” multiple times in this fic, either that or I’m having serious deja vu

Kim’s so cute dammit!!! now that he knows he likes Max he’s just swooning over every little thing and it’s!!!! adorable!!!!!

(I wonder if this is how it was with Kimdine in the show? it does seem like Kim already liked her but just hadn’t noticed...)

huehuehuehue Kim later on you do indeed recklessly propose to Max on the spot... in like 18 chapters or so

also the fact that Kim thinks things through better when he’s around Max is just the total sweetest and also what Alix was basically trying to aim for

I love Kim showing off that he can pack all his stuff in half an hour like buddy, the porters can literally help you with that, you’re royalty remember

omg I’d forgotten I left a note here later for binge-readers!! being all like “drink water and eat food and go to sleep uwu”

lmao guess I’ll take my own advice then and leave it there for now

[future aish note: same, goodnight]

[babyboyoonie]

Hi ! I don't know if you're still taking request like this but,,, yoongi with long hair,, that make him look even more princey than he already does uwu. I really like your writing btw, i find it super refreshing to read and its just lovely ! I hope you have a good day, don't forget to drink

Hello ♥ I’m sorry for taking so long, here it is!! thanks for your request and also, your kind words, it motivated me to write,,, i was in a bit of a drought so thank you ;w; really ♥ you don’t forget to drink n eat AND sleep either. (;

I imagine long-haired!Yoongi just like @inbloomyg  ‘s ((hey there!! told you i’d link you the fic if i wrote it hehe)) art which is right down there and gorgeous, just like everything they do ♥ here we go, hope you’ll like it~

Something strikes Seokjin late in the afternoon. In the form of Yoongi waking up from a nap, and looking dangerously close to falling into another one. Seokjin’s stricken by a realization one late afternoon. April, hot but not really, a humid something that tugs Yoongi away from his studio and straight in Seokjin’s arms. No hesitation, no bribing on Seokjin’s part or the inevitable fall following days in the studio. It’s a whim, a whim of lightly flushed cheeks and clothes in disarray. A whim of lean limbs wrapping around Seokjin’s in the bed, cat-like eyes heavy-lidded and lashes fluttering lazily.It’s hair falling from a pretilly messy bun on Seokjin’s chest too. Long, blond hair. Oh. Oh.“Yah,” he says, sudden and low and lacking that mild cheer he paints his intonation with so often. Yoongi startles, the black diamonds Seokjin likes to call eyes popping open and eyeing Jin curiously. He kind of wants to spend, ah, something like hours, thinking about this gaze and only kissing Yoongi’s eyelids, Yoongi’s cheeks, his lips, to convey the adoration he feels. Perhaps he will, later, but right now—“hyung,” the little man now wide awake says, or whispers, or perhaps just something in the middle. Darling drawl, quiet interrogation. “what.”So darling.But Jin—Jin only lets his fingers brush the locks of black and blonde with a blossoming something in his chest. Petals opening, warming him up, because Yoongi’s hair is soft; because Yoongi’s hair is long and frames his angelic face in the prettiest way and Jin feels stupid for not seeing this sooner. No—for not having taken the time to. For not stopping and observing the way strands of blonde fall delicately in Yoongi’s eyes, part sometimes in the middle of his forehead and gives him a whole new aspect—he can’t, he can’t put a name on it but God. Yoongi looks so fucking good, what the hell. Seokjin’s nearly offended. Would be, if he wasn’t absolutely and utterly smitten. Takes in eyes slowly blinking at him and perfected each second by the gentle movements of his wild locks. They’re not totally blonde, his natural hair is growing under but? It only makes him even more gorgeous? Seokjin blows out a long breath and cards his fingers into those soft strands. He may or may not be enchanted. “Yoongi-yah, your hair,” he says, wheezes out, gestures frantically with his free hand to the hair he’s caressing way too eagerly for him to not look like a maniac. A handsome maniac, but still. Yoongi eyes him, blinking some more. He’s cute but he just doesn’t get it. “It’s long!”Yoongi rolls his eyes. Raises himself a little bit more on Jin’s chest to give him a somewhat amused, somewhat dry look. All heavy-lidded and cheeks slightly puffed out. And with the way his hair cascaded around his features so darling—God, Jin was one blind man. “I’m hurt, hyung,” the little one drawls lazily, eyes piercing Jin’s before falling somewhere else on the man’s shirt. “aren’t you—aren’t you the one shouting left and right totally unnecessary daily details about me? And you can’t even see that my hair grew?”

“Yah! They’re not unnecessary—”

A snort’s his only answer, alongside Yoongi’s pointed gaze and huffed “As if.” Probably implying all the times his hyung exposed his embarrassing sides—which, Jin would like to protest, were actually the cutest moments ever—and beamed in positive mirth to anyone around.

But. Indeed, Jin had been quite blind to this little wonder.

He cuddles Yoongi closer to him, ignores his lazy protests and the weak fists punching his shoulders. Arms firm around a narrow waist, hands digging in the supple flesh of his darling until he exploded in sweet rivulets of laughter. Jin watches happiness brighten Yoongi’s tired feature, his hair form a halo around his face and wonders if Yoongi can hear the wild beats of his heart. Eventually, softly, he pushes his fingers into Yoongi’s soft strands of hair and moves them behind his ear. Delicate. “You’re always pretty, that’s why. Long hair, short hair, the only thing I notice always is that—is that you’re gorgeous.”

Lovely eyes fix on his, wide-eyed, before they close at the same time as colors bloom on his little one’s satin skin. And Jin, Jin’s too hot already, cuddled as they are; but he brings Yoongi closer and breathes a smile on his lips. Smiles and kisses Yoongi’s lips as softly as he caresses his hair, until his baby’s putty in his hands, pressed on his body in the sweetest way.

From then—Jin can’t not notice Yoongi’s long, prince-like hair. Soft and cascading and—and golden.

When he, later, says they’re all eight and he’s a ten, it’s an innocent lie, because Yoongi with long hair is one hell of a solid twenty.

Hoseok knows he’s staring.

Yoongi knows it too. Ignores it, and repeats the routine he was supposed to practice with Hoseok. Not that he’s any bad—Hoseok would be the first in line, chest bursting with pride to inform excitingly anyone willing to listen, that Min Yoongi was a freaking good dancer. No buts, no ifs, no nothing. His Yoongi was—his Yoongi was good.

His Yoongi was also giving him the cold shoulder.

Sulky silences, never outright ignoring him; just fewer words and even less physical contact. Hoseok was dying. Told Yoongi so, and was only met with dull eyes and a terribly sweet—“Then…perish.” He has been too stunned to pursue Yoongi with tears then. It worked, usually. Just like Yoongi was terribly weak to their youngest members, his resolve always wavered when it came to a teary Hoseok or, or a simple puppy-eyes from Namjoon. Their eldest hyung didn’t count, pigs would fly until Yoongi refused him anything.

And so, and so. Here Hoseok was, desperate and deprived for any kind of contact with the one he swore was his soulmate, soul partner, soul everything and beyond.

Yoongi wasn’t having any of it though, pretty gaze skittering away from Hoseok and letting his lean limbs flow in the familiar pattern they had learned some days ago. Clearly, he didn’t need any help, but Hoseok had to find something, okay?

Well, that was the plan, at the beginning.

But Yoongi—

Yoongi had his pretty, silky and long locks of hair in a pretty bun at the top of his head and Hoseok wanted to cry at the gorgeousness of it all. Of every damn blonde lock, styled perfectly with just this tad bit of natural messiness that drew the gaze—again and again. Hoseok wanted to touch. Yoongi? That was a given, he even freaking dreamed of touching him every second. But this hair…it was, it was a rare sight. Too pretty for words. Hoseok really, really wanted to touch.

So, Hoseok touches.

Tries to, at least, but Yoongi seems to have been keeping a careful eye on him—Hoseok doesn’t go further than an arm outstretched before Yoongi dances away from his reach, arms crossing on his chest. He’s cute, Hoseok despairs in the secret of his mind and his much too expressive face. He’s cute, terribly cute, in the slight frown of his eyebrows and the heavy pout on his pinkish lips. Cute in body leaning away from Hoseok and a defensive position not threatening in the least. Cute, mini-sized Min Yoongi glowering at Hoseok. “What are you doing?”

“Just trying to get close to you,” Hoseok laments, arms falling by his side in what looks like defeat before—before he shifts forward and brings Yoongi down toward him in a searing embrace. Ignores the man’s muffled protests as he breathes in deeply strawberries and ice cream not unlike a winter spent cuddled inside, with hot chocolate and pleasant company. It’s Yoongi, Yoongi and simply Yoongi and, and okay, the man had only started distancing himself from Hoseok two days ago but—Hoseok needed him, okay? Didn’t know how much until Yoongi slowly put distance between them. “I missed you.”

“Liar,” Yoongi immediately rebukes, pushes at Hoseok’s chest with absolutely no result except, probably, exhausting himself. He’s little, after all. Not that much in height, only centimeters smaller than Hoseok. But he’s little in…in size. Takes less space, easy to hug, to carry and manhandle around. He’s really, really little and fits perfectly in Hoseok’s arms. Better than anyone else, why wouldn’t his little one see it? “You can’t miss me after killing sope. Forsaking what we had together is forsaking me. Leave me alone—stop touching my hair!”

Hoseok shakes his head furiously. Mouth useless with jumbled words as he takes in Yoongi’s scent again, the soft-as-hell hair flowing in between his fingers in glittering petals of gold. Letting them grow had done them justice, and Hoseok lost himself in the art on top of Yoongi’s head before his words reached him. Oh.

“Baby—”

“Don’t baby me, asshole! Go back to being all mushy with Jimin or something and, and leave me alone—what the fuck Hoseok are you smelling my hair? Stop it!”

“It’s pretty! And it smells good! Just like you!” He receives a palm splattered on his face for his efforts. But whatever, Yoongi’s fingers are art, too. And it won’t stop him, anyway. “Sope May be on a break but we, sweetheart, we’re eternal.” He whispers softly. Captures the delicate wrist and brings Yoongi’s hand down, just as soft. Sincerity shining in his eyes, his words, every part of him touching Yoongi and all those that aren’t. He’s true. Hears his heart breaks in his chest at Yoongi’s words, at the—the things he’s implying.

Hoseok would never, ever give up on him—on them. Just thinking about it kind of made him want to cry.

The smaller man doesn’t look at him. Keeps his gaze on the side, eyes brimming with something and shadowed by rebellious strands of gold. “…hurry up and hold me tighter, meanie.”

Hoseok does. Holds him, tight, so tight. Kisses him, until he’s breathless and letting out those little noises cute enough to die for. Kisses him until he’s a puddle of lovely goo entangled with Hoseok’s limbs on the wooden floor, cheeks pinks, eyes satisfied.

“Seok-Seok…is that a boner I can feel on my thigh?”

“Listen…your hair; it’s—”

“Oh my God.”

When they go stargazing, Yoongi loses himself in space. To space, heart and mind. There’s something to be said, Namjoon assures, about the lovely widening of his eyes that doesn’t quite disappear until he slowly starts to fall asleep. Excited, attention undiffused safe for those dreamy minutes he lets Namjoon kisses him silly. Frame cuddled under Namjoon’s bigger one, head delicately thrown backward as plush lips push upon his. Just as delicate, soft, loving.

He’s all Namjoon’s in those moments, and then, he goes back to space.

Peacefully, no worries troubling his soft gestures; because there’s no one else but Namjoon around. Nobody, no cameras, just Yoongi and Namjoon and the dust of social anxiety nothing but a bitter memory. The changes are subtle, but they’re here, and Namjoon’s fine with his little hyung losing himself to space if it means his inner distress would disappear.

And meanwhile, he can—

He can feel. Yoongi’s warmth, spreading all over his body, everywhere but to its owner—his lovely hyung with flushed cheeks puffed in protest of the cold, always always cold. He’s warm, still, a large blanket wrapped around him and shared with Namjoon. He’s warm, but still shivering, and Namjoon holds him tighter. Receives a soft hum for his efforts and lets his pleased great spread wide over his expression.

Yoongi’s over there in space, and Namjoon can feel, and Namjoon can observe. Can observe the little movements of Yoongi’s socked feet under the blanket, the quick flutter of his lashes and—and his hair. God, his hair. Brighter than the stars up there under their observation. Prettier too, a lovely piece artfully decorating Yoongi’s pretty little head. His long hair, Namjoon didn’t have any words.

He felt kind of stupid for being so dazed because of…because of some hair, of all things. It was silly but—he was talking about Yoongi, here. Everything about Yoongi was fascinating. His little hyung would be sleeping for ten hours straight and if Namjoon had the opportunity, he’d damn observe him during those ten hours. So—so, yeah, not just hair, Yoongi’s hair. Falling to his shoulders and still growing, full and soft and flying to the wind when Yoongi let it free. Hiding his gaze, sometimes, just barely, but enticing enough for Namjoon to feel all hot and bothered.

Yoongi’s long hair had a strange effect on Namjoon, all things considered.

“Joonie…” Namjoon snaps from his reverie with his hand down Yoongi’s shirt and the other caressing strands of gold. He reddens while the other shots him a confused look. “What are you doing?”

He doesn’t seem to reject Namjoon’s touch, and so he keeps going, settles right on the warm satin of Yoongi’s hip and lets out a sharp breath. “I was—” he traces little shapes on Yoongi’s skin, grins as the man, ticklish as he is, giggles and squirms against him. “just thinking about you and then, well…”

“Aren’t you always?”

There’s humor, right there, in Yoongi’s low voice. Light, chirpy, joking. A refute quickly served with no meaning behind it. Yoongi doesn’t know he just spoke the truth, will never truly understand he occupies Namjoon’s mind in all times. In wonderings, in songs; in the images of his little man dressed in new clothes too big on him, and a peculiar look making its appearance with only longer bangs in town. There’s no need for more, this right there is enough to leave Namjoon dazed for days with dopey grins and wandering hands.

“I am,” Yoongi makes a disagreeing sound in the back of his throat, squeaks when Namjoon grips his waist tighter and turns him around to flush their body together. The blankets don’t fall, envelop them still, unbothered in the face of Namjoon’s gentle movement. He makes sure to be, always, because Yoongi doesn’t deserve anything less than soft and gentle. His little one melts against his chest, and Namjoon melts too, and they really must be the mushiest boyfriends out there. “but this time, it’s your hair.”

“You been thinking about this mess?”

“No,” Namjoon chuckles, takes in a breath and shudders in idle pleasure as the fruity waves of Yoongi’s shampoo hit him. Really, this long hair is the best. “I’ve been thinking about putting those stars you love so much in it.”

“Oh no shut up you nerd.” But he’s smiling. He’s smiling and he’s prettier than the stars up there, much more worthy of being admired always,

and Namjoon tells him so in multiple kisses painted everywhere on his skin. Yoongi’s long air glow around his shoulders like the purest halo in between angels.

Jimin pads into the patio and finds Yoongi already here. At something, precisely, around five am where the sun barely peaks from his slumber and birds just start their daily chants, Jimin wanders into the patio and Yoongi’s already here. Crouched in front of a large row of plants, watering them delicately, low voice speaking out words Jimin can’t hear—but that he can guess. Soft words, like those given to dear children. Soft words and milky voice, affectionate, clear in a candy grin and a marshmallow-like gaze. Five in the morning and dozens of minutes already gone, Jimin’s on the ball of his feet after wandering into the patio, admiring the one he shouts to whoever is close enough he’ll marry one day.

His darling hyung of delicate attention to every living being, attentive and sensitive behind a spaced-out look and sleepy countenance. Caring, so caring, be it with the plants he’s been tending to for God knows how long—and every other being blessed to have met him. Him and the absolutely endearing way he holds himself as he pays attention to his lovely plants—his own clothes discarded in favor of another man’s.

Jimin’s, to be exact.

A simple, large checkered dark blue, red and white shirt that goes past Jimin’s hands but swamps in the most lovely way Yoongi’s slight frame. It’s that. He’s only wearing that. It’s Yoongi on the ground with lovely plants, dainty strands of hair caressing the naked skin of his shoulders and—a shirt and a shirt only hanging on his frame, cascading high high to the alluring cleft of his ass. Heavens, Jimin wants to go down on his knees and worship this bewitching man right here and there. Revere his angel with heavy kisses pressed hot on his ass and hungry hands losing themselves in hair.

His goddamn hair.

Jimin thinks it’s his way too loud and way too aroused groan that startles his hyung into turning around. Wide-eyed, still a bit hazy with slushy feelings and clutching his watering can close to his heart—careful, even there, to not drop it and harm any of his plants. An angel, Jimin repeats in the secret of his mind at the same time as he offers to this same angel a wobbly grin. Perhaps because of the early hour. Most probably because of the bubbling arousal an almost-peeking pert ass and messily arranged hair provoked in him.

To Jimin’s defense, Yoongi’s ass was the best in the whole world and long hair suited him so well it was a sin.

“Whatcha doin’ there?” Yoongi’s voice, mumbling and so quiet usually is even quieter, at five in the morning. Still low, still soft, but less clear; slurred in the cutest way. Jimin basks in it for each second it takes for him to be by Yoongi’s side. For him to crouch down, too, and tug Yoongi flush to his chest.

Sees the plant from Yoongi’s point of view. But most importantly, the way he feels, barely clothed and a bit cold from the fluctuating temperature of the morning. Jimin squeezes him in a tight embrace, fingers clasping on a narrow waist and thumping chest running like a madman flush to Yoongi’s back. Goes boom boom and, and when he lets one hand wander to this one place where Yoongi’s heart’s beats…he hears it again, boom boom. “The bed was too cold without you. And your hair.”

Yoongi laughs. A breathy, sweet thing that never fails to make his shoulders quack darling and his face to lighten in a beat. His eyes are all sleepy and alight with diamonds when he turns slightly in Jimin’s right embrace. “Why’re you bringing my hair into this?”

He sounds way too good for someone up and mumbling to his plants at five in the morning. Jimin lets his heart sing wonders about him anyway while he guides Yoongi’s hand for them to tend to the plants, together. The older man lets out an approving sound, and Jimin doesn’t bother slamming down the happiness of having done something right that rises at the surface. It’s—Its okay to feel like that. Yoongi made sure for him to know, and he’s gonna honor that. Fake it until he makes it, because he knows Yoongi’s right on this. “That’s…that’s cuz it’s perfect. Just like you.”

Yoongi squirms, in what Jimin knows is bashfulness and terribly masked embarrassment. Ducks down under long, golden bangs colored up there with touches of dark. Jimin’s still confused about who he has to thank for the delight that is Min Yoongi with long hair. The noonas that took care of their hair? Time? Yoongi’s own desire to let them grow because he couldn’t care less?

He’s not sure. Pushes it in the back of his mind in favor of nuzzling the back of Yoongi’s neck and stays here, and basks here.

(Hand still subtly playing with Yoongi’s hair.)

(Yoongi tries not to judge him too hard. But he still does in the end.)

Yeontan is, Taehyung realizes, like their very own child. Yoongi’s and Taehyung’s. Oh, the little fluff ball does visit the others members sometimes, attached to them all as he is. Straying more on Taehyung’s side—it’s a given, but running just as often to Yoongi? It came out like a surprise, at the beginning. Then, in the few seconds it takes for a realization to sink in, the surprise was no more. Taehyung should have expected this.

His little hyung’s soft for a lot of things. Soft for people and plants and distressing situations few people dare to address. Soft in personality and doughy like cookie dough if someone asks him something, anything. But above all that—in that not-so-little crook nestled in his chest, he’s the biggest softie for animals of all kinds. Dogs to be more precise. Gets sparkles in his eyes and promptly melt on the spot—whole body brightening and a pure, unadulterated happiness taking him whole.

Taehyung—Taehyung did get jealous in the beginning. It was silly and absolutely unnecessary to be jealous of dogs of all things, but, here, he was. Had been. Until a first kiss was pressed to his lips and Yoongi looked up at him with a whole new brand of adoration in his eyes. For Taehyung and Taehyung only.

Amidst sweating palms and frantically beating heart, Taehyung had realized this had been heaven right there knocking at his door. He never ever let go of Yoongi, then. Be it by simply being by his side, having his thoughts swarmed with Yoongi or spending holidays in his home back in Daegu, admiring the pretty sight of a cheery Yoongi playing with Yeontan. It was—it was a sight for sure, Taehyung thinks, chuckles quietly to himself. Because Yeontan’s a ball of energy and although a sleepy haze wraps itself all around his love, Yoongi makes sure to return this energy and eagerness to play twice as hard.

Taehyung wonders if it’s possible for his heart to grow fonder.

“Hot cakes,” Taehyung says, sing-songs, really, chirpy countenance rolling around his body that has Yoongi giving him a suspicious side-eye.

Even then, he’s so damn cute it hurts.

“What’re you smiling about?” Taehyung not so subtly basks in both the attention of Yoongi and Yeontan as he struts toward them; bubbling with his two most precious people’s eyes on him as he settles tight behind his little hyung. Brings him close by gripping his hips, until he’s sat between Taehyung’s legs and long blond curls spread a delectable smell for Taehyung to fill his chest with.

He spends more time than he’d like to admit smelling Yoongi’s hair. That earns him another long suspicious look from the aforementioned. Taehyung grins, sheepish, chuckles then when his little tan-ie yips at him. “The two of you are cute,”

“Tan-ie is. I’m not.” Yoongi swats at his chest with the hand that’s not holding, preciously, the little bundle of fluff to him. There’s a pout on his pinky-cotton-candy lips and waves in his hair as he tugs his head down slightly. This hair. Taehyung thinks he’s going to start his prayers for Yoongi to keep them this long for a while. Months if he’s lucky. It’s just so—elegant? Princely? So damn attractive, Taehyung’s not ashamed of having spent the precious nights falling asleep with his fingers carded in golden locks, admiring them fall between Yoongi’s shoulder blades and kissing the course they pursued.

Does it on this Sunday afternoon too. Light kisses on his cheeks, harder on his neck, delicate on his shoulders, between strands of hair, strands of delight and source of fascination. “Allow me to disagree on this with you…is that okay, hyung?” he says, whispers secret-soft in Yoongi’s ear, peering down at him as he searches for a running gaze; obscured so darling by flowing bangs.

Yoongi nods his approbation, soft as always, affection brewing in his eyes for him—and then for the puppy in his hands demanding their attention in quick succession of adorable yips. He’s Taehyung this way, never ashamed of asking for the things he wants—never ashamed altogether, at least that’s what Yoongi told him one dreamy night of just laying in bed and giving in secret confessions. There had been a terribly fond look in his eyes, a greatly loving smile on his lips. Wide and pink and gummy, Taehyung had kissed him until they were delirious, until the end of the night and beyond.

Taehyung demanded, all natural and polite for what he desired. And Yoongi gave freely, finding his own happiness in there, a cup or ten more shy into speaking out his needs. But, but that was fine. That’s what Taehyung was here for, that’s how eternal couples worked, didn’t they? Completing each other seamlessly. Partners in crime in traveling together and versed in affection for the other.

No secrets. So—

“Love?” Yoongi looks up at him, tilting his head in question. Taehyung swallows. Better just—“your new hair is a total turn on.”

“…seriously?”

“I can’t help it!”

His Yoongi-hyung likes watching him work out. Doesn’t say it outright—would he ever…?—but one would have to be utterly oblivious to not see it. And being oblivious is more of Yoongi’s forte, not Jungkook’s. It’s one time and then two and then a dozens and Jungkook stops counting the number of time he sees a waddling little man plops somewhere in the room every time he decides to put on some more muscles. It’s stolen glances toward said little person and eyes meeting, and Yoongi flushing because—because he’s been staring, staring with glittering eyes and mouth slightly open.

It’s at this point he runs away with a bullshit excuse, but he always, always come back the next time.

Jungkook awaits him eagerly.

Secret smiles, attention undivided, he awaits and welcomes, until they have this sort of silent routine that slowly fills up with soft words. Then teasing ones, flirting—which the other members never fails to roll their eyes at because Jungkook and Yoongi are already a couple. Jungkook knows it’s just jealousy speaking.

Jungkook also knows that today, Yoongi’s recording this simple business. He still asks, anyway. “Hyung, are you filming this?”

Here’s the distinct sound of Yoongi’s tongue clicking away. The fast, dismissive sound clear representation of something Yoongi’s not ready to admit. “I’m not, what are you talking about?” See? Yoongi acts the most disinterested when he actually is the most interested. All wide eyes and biting lips, hands steady on his phone or his camera. Jungkook knows him by heart like he was the one to make him.

Which. Would be quite creepy, all things considered.

He huffs out a chuckle, mind completely gone from the series of pushes up he hadn’t paused while talking to his lover. Because Yoongi, wordless Yoongi who barely lets out a noise save for the little facts and interesting stories he treats Jungkook with, takes all of his attention and stays ignorant to the matter.

It’s fine, more than fine—it’s Yoongi and being blissfully ignorant to the effect he has on men is…it’s absolutely endearing. Jungkook finds himself, sometimes, gently cupping his cheeks in between his hands and staring at him. Intensely, as other people mentioned, like concentrated rays of sunshine or an all-encompassing storm. Staring, fascinated, in adoration. He’d find back Yoongi’s considering gaze, touches of confusion, melting in a love going two ways and a wide gummy smile brimming with gentle happiness.

That’s just Yoongi. Yellow Yoongi like bottled happiness sprinkled here and there like the passage of a butterfly. Gentle. Gentle like the movement of his eyelashes when Jungkook plays with his hair—Lord, his long, enthralling hair he lets Jungkook styles however he wants and to his heart content. He’d grumble and roll his eyes but, in the end, as always, he’d trust himself completely in Jungkook’s arms.

A heady sensation, this one was. Trust. Makes Jungkook delirious with what could be done. Makes him bite his lips and his eyes snap open the moment one droplet of sweat finishes his course on his cheek and hit the ground. Here—“But, Rapunzel, can you even see under your curtain of gold?”

Predictably, Yoongi lets out an indignant noise and bats at his back with a weak fist. A pout probably forming on his lips. Jungkook, Jungkook’s addicted to Yoongi’s moodiness like bees are to honey. And so—one last barely felt effort to end this daily routine, he surges up on his back and catches bony hips between his fingers as Yoongi falls on his lap. Blinking in surprise, pout filtering away and leaving the place to a little mouth slightly open. Surprise too? Happiness? Surely the last one, Jungkook thinks, grinning as pecks of pink color Yoongi’s cheek. Happiness. Even as Yoongi’s words don’t let any of said happiness pass by. “Yah. Do you want to fight me or something?”

“I’d love to,” Jungkook snaps back, grin never leaving his lips and slight exertion contorting his tone with breathlessness.

There’s a certain light in Yoongi’s eyes as he surely takes note of it. A certain light, familiar to Jungkook like he has knows this man his whole life, when pale fingers grip toned arms in barely disguised interest. Yoongi’s never been ashamed to admit, even in front of a public, his love for—for this, for the results of years of working out and lifting weights. Present in Jungkook’s whole body that he never hesitates to flaunt. It’s not arrogance, it’s simple happiness, pride, and he knows Yoongi loves it. So, why hide anymore?

He carefully lets his fingers skim the supple skin under Yoongi’s shirt. Bucks his hips, once, and watches Yoongi bounce, watch his eyes widen prettily and waves of gold cascade around him. God, his hyung was gorgeous—“but, but you know what kind of fighting I wanna do? Less clothes and your hair tight in my grip while I fuck you, please hyung let me—”

Yoongi more than lets him. Keeps him on his toes with each of his searing kiss, the red traces left on his back as Jungkook manhandle him in bed. Spread pretty and perfect for him, golden halo around his head for Jungkook to worship.

Yoongi more than lets him. They worship together, each other, always

[nyxocity]

I want commentary on so much of your writing. Loved your response to the beautiful disaster scene. How did you choose the songs for that fic?

Thank you for asking. You’re always welcome to ask more! :D

This story was originally inspired by my playing a shit ton of the original Rock Band on XBox, just fyi. Music is a huge part of my life, and one of the joys of writing Beautiful Disaster was getting to use so many songs to fit the emotional moods. Sometimes I’d think about the scene and look through my music until I found something that resonated, and other times it smacked me in the face and was like, here, you’re using this. For example, I was listening to a 90′s alt station pretty heavily while writing this story, not for any particular reason other than that I was enjoying it, and after a while, as I was writing, the lyrics of certain songs began to sink in as perfect for certain scenes.

Okay so let’s talk about the songs individually:

Cold Contagious; Cold Contagious, lyrics as written and performed by BushI needed a song to set the stage/mood of the relationship between Justin and Jensen and this stood out to me as a good emotional opener. This one didn’t come to me automatically though and took a little time.

Don’t Believe You; The Ubiquitous Mr. Lovegrove, lyrics as written and performed by Dead Can DanceI’ve been a fan of this song since way back in my goth club days. I just love the lyrics, the middle eastern feel of the music. There’s a sense of a long relationship in this song, one that has come to a bitter place. Again, setting the mood for the Justin/Jensen relationship.God of Wine; God of Wine, lyrics as written and performed by Third Eye BlindThird Eye Blind’s debut album is one of my favorite albums of all time, and this song and Motorcycle Drive By are never far from my mind as two of the best, heartbreaking songs I’ve ever heard. I love the lyrics in this song so much: “Sometimes you let me inand I take it on the chin” and “Looking through, I see youSearching for somethingI could never give youAnd there’s someone whounderstands you more than I do”

This song is incredibly EPIC and the level of sadness in it is just… it makes me hurt every time. It’s about the tragic end of a relationship, and not for any other reason other than they’re not right for each other. He wants so badly to be “the one” for the person he’s singing about but he knows he isn’t.

Justin’s song - End, as written and performed by The CureI expand on how I feel about The Cure, and the album this particular song is from, below. This is the final song on the album and it’s just so full of self loathing and despair. “Please stop loving me, I am none of these things”, is Justin’s plea to Jensen. He feels a lot of guilt that Jensen loves him as much as he does, and he definitely doesn’t feel worthy of that love. 

Unpublished lyrics: Forever Earthbound, as written and performed by The RenaissanceThis song, I went looking for lyrics that would work for what Jensen was feeling in that moment. I don’t remember what parameters I used but it took some time. When I stumbled across these lyrics they just locked into place and fit.Vegas concert lyrics: Motorcycle Drive-by, as written and performed by Third Eye BlindAs I noted above, this song is never far from me. Heartbreakingly beautiful and just so full of raw emotion. So much of the music in this story is about the twisted, tangled up, fucked up thing between Justin  and Jensen, because Jensen is writing most of it.

80’s song Jensen passes out to: No One is to Blame, as written and performed by Howard JonesWhen I was writing this part, I was thinking of the movie Waitress, and this is the song that plays as the married main character and Nathan Fillion’s character begin to fall for each other, and that was when, FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER, the lyrics in the song clicked for me. I’d been listening to it since the 80′s and I never got that it was about the guilt and pain of falling in love with someone you couldn’t be with because they were with someone else. And it’s just SO beautiful once you understand it, lines like, “You can feel the punishment but you can’t commit the sin”. So the song was in my mind when I wrote this scene and I felt it fit so well, because that’s exactly what was happening to Jensen.

I’m the One - I’m the One as written and performed by the DescendantsThis was one of those instances where listening to the 90′s alt music stepped in and made the decision for me. I was listening to it and it just clicked in my head and I went that’s it, that’s the song where Jensen is making his frustration with his infatuation with Justin known. And the fact that it’s gender neutral with regard to the person the singer is singing about it just made it all the more perfect.Sick Cycle Carousel - Sick Cycle Carousel as written and performed by LifehouseMy love of Lifehouse is legendary (I may be listening to them right now in fact :D). They have such a way of bringing beauty and soulfulness to their music, in short, they make me FEEL everything they’re trying to convey. Every bit of confusion and sadness and beauty. Sick Cycle Carousel is about not being able to let go of this thing you know is terrible for you, and again, it’s indicative of the relationship between Justin and Jensen. There’s so much passion in it, and it stood out to me as something someone as passionate as Jensen would have written.

Song Jared and Jensen play together - In the Blood as written and performed by Better Than EzraSpeaking of passionate! THIS SONG. OH MAN. Again, it’s 90′s alt, and I hadn’t written it yet, but I was thinking about the scene where Jared and Jensen first perform together, and the lines, “It’s the way you move your hands” and “The passion that you play” hit me SO HARD. It was so perfect. I doubt the writer of the song was talking about someone who played guitar, but the entirety of the song was just completely Jared’s perspective on Jensen at that time. I even had Justin quote back the specific lines that caught my attention initially before I went and dug into the entirety of the lyrics and realized it fit perfectly.Jared’s Song - Lucky Man - Lucky Man as written and performed by The VerveAgain with the 90′s alt. This song was one that struck me as so lonely and sad. It’s basically to me about a guy who’s in love with someone else he knows will never love him back. He’s a lucky man because he feels that love, but it’s also a sad feeling because he’s in it alone. Jared wrote this song about Milo back in the day, and it sums up their relationship to a tee, and how Jared felt about it.From The Edge of the Deep Green Sea - From The Edge of the Deep Green Sea, as written and performed by The CureThe Cure is my favorite band (BTW I love your username for this reason–The Loudest Sound, right?), and oftentimes I have to stop myself from overusing their stuff in my stories. The album this song is from is called Wish, and Wish is one of those albums that coded itself into my DNA. It’s a heartbreaking album and I was going through one of the most heartbreaking times in my life, so even now, when I listen to it I have to be careful because of the emotion it invokes in me. This song in particular is so sad and fucked up that it nearly rips my heart out of my chest (particularly because I was going through something very similar at the time). It about being at the end of a relationship that hasn’t been good for you for a very long time but you just haven’t been able to let it go, and now you’re finally trying but it’s messy and complicated and so very very painful. It summarizes well to me, how Jensen felt at that time. 

When I Can - Mayonaise, as written and performed by the Smashing PumpkinsThis song has always had a special place in my heart since I very first heard it in the 90′s. To me it’s about letting go, finally, even when you don’t want to. Someday you’ll try to understand why this thing went wrong, and when you can, you will. But for now you’re kind of fucked up about it, and you reserve the right to be bitter until you can understand it better. Again, it seemed right for where Jensen was in the story.Spin - Spin, as written and performed by Lifehouse.The first HAPPY song in the entire goddamned story lol Again, my love for Lifehouse is huge, and I was listening to this song when it struck me as being perfect for the story with regard to how Jensen felt about Jared. Everything in Jensen’s life is kind of a mess, but he knows how he feels about Jared, Jared’s just this one true thing that makes sense, and Jensen wants to lock on and follow that, let it lead him into the sunlight as it were. What’s funny is that Jensen writes this very early on in the story, before he even consciously begins to realize his feelings for Jared.

So, the whole thing is sort of this give and take process. Some of it just happens intuitively, and some of it falls into place on its own, and sometimes I have to do a little work before it clicks, but it always does. I’ve always been happy with every song choice I’ve made in a fic, and especially this one.

[fourteenacross]

okay, i have comments to give on "everyone must breathe," but in the meantime: the section from "communicable" (which i've read 500 times, btw,

Don’t worry about comments, I GET IT I am super behind on a) answering comments and b) reading and commenting on other people’s fic. Such is the holidays, etc.

COMMENTARY! YES! Here are some unfiltered thoughts on this section of fic! Please feel free to ask for elaboration if there’s anything in particular you were curious about that I didn’t hit on!

It takes John four buzzes to realize someone is calling him and a fifth to actually fumble for the phone, see it’s Alex, and pick up in a panic.

“Alexander?” he says breathlessly, his heart hammering, a million worst case scenarios screaming in his mind. It’s the middle of the night–full dark, with the heavy, still silence that means the rest of the world is dead asleep. There’s no earthly reason Alex should be calling him.

So this was one of the first scenes that I wrote in this fic. I knew really early on, when everything before the fall of their second year was going to be quick flashback scenes and nothing more, that there was a point when everyone got sick a lot and Alex had to stay with the Washingtons to avoid contaminating John. I really liked that kernel of an idea, this image I had in my head of Alex being miserable in bed and John being useless because he was too busy visiting Alex whenever he could to get anything done. That sort of morphed into the idea of Washington or Mrs. W coming in to check on Alex and finding John asleep next to his bed, which led my brain down the road of, “Okay, but why/how does he get there?” and this immediately popped into my head after.

“John?” Alex sounds slow and tired, not quite himself. “I woke up and you weren’t here and I had–I had a dream.”

He doesn’t actually sound awake, his words mumbled and slurred and quiet.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” John asks. He’s already sitting up in bed, rubbing his eyes. “Are you okay?”

So, we’ve already established in this verse that Alex has recurring nightmares that he sort of blows off. They’re enough to wake him up and rattle him, but he never remembers what they’re about (he never really tries to remember what they’re about) and he’s generally very dismissive of them. John (and, hopefully, the reader) has sussed out that they’re most likely to do with Alex’s abandonment issues and fear of being alone. However, because he’s so quick to brush off his dreams, I needed to make it reasonable that he would actually call John. Having him in an unfamiliar place without John when he’s ill and upset seemed like enough of an impetus to actually imagine him calling John in the middle of the night out of that disoriented mix of fear and confusion and desperation. I think Alex probably reached for John when he woke up, was confused to find himself alone and somewhere he didn’t recognize, and too sick to call out in more than a whisper. Thus, picking up the phone.

“I’m…okay?” Alex murmurs. “I just–”

Silence.

“Did you have a nightmare?” John asks.

“I–maybe? I don’t–I think I did, I don’t…remember now. I just–you weren’t here, and I couldn’t–I thought–”

About…fuck, three years ago now? Four?…I got pneumonia and bad. Not like, hospital bad, but “ran a fever for six days” bad. It’s the sickest I’ve been in memory and whole fucking days passed in a weird fugue state. I could not think straight, I couldn’t hold conversations, I disassociated, I forgot where I was. It was really fucking weird. So, that’s where Alex is here. His brain is scrambled from fever and he knows what he wants (John) but holding onto that thought takes up all of his cognition right now. He doesn’t have enough brain power left over to answer questions or even parse them, really.

The more Alex speaks, the more confused he sounds. John slips out of bed and grabs a pair of jeans from the floor, fumbling into them one-handed.

“Sweetheart, it’s okay. You’re okay,” John says. “You’re at the Washingtons’, remember? You’re sick.”

John and Alex are a lot more traditionally affectionate now than they were in early drafts of this verse. In a deleted scene from a later story, something happens to John and Alex calls him “sweetheart” and everyone else is mute with surprise because they usually just called each other names as a form of affection. That’s sort of eroded now, to a degree–they still call each other names a lot, obvs, but they also sort of embrace some more treacley, affectionate pet names. There are still lines, though–Alex calls John “sweetheart” in a sort of exasperated way at some point in, I think, i saw the whole story unwind, and John makes fun of him. Similarly, he calls John “honey” in exasperation in the story about getting an award and John makes fun of him there, too. But, when the chips are down and John starts feeling protective, that’s where his mind goes automatically–being as genuinely soft and careful and gentle as possible, including embracing that sort of sappy pet name stuff.

“Right…right…okay.” He sounds marginally less frazzled and spacey. “I just–right. I’m sorry. I’m–why did I call you, did I wake you up? Why would I–”

“It’s fine,” John says quickly. “Do you want me to come over there?”

Alex hesitates. “No, that’s stupid,” he finally says. “I’m fine, I just–I just–woke up and…I don’t know, I’m…used to having you, and I just–” He shudders and makes a quiet, frightened noise, and John’s heart breaks.

“I know sweetheart, I know,” John says. “I’m almost dressed, I’m going to drive over, okay?”

John was not like, super cool with leaving Alex on his own at the Washingtons’ to begin with and now Alex needed him and he wasn’t there, and the logical part of his brain is saying, as he tries to pull on his jeans and listen to the phone at the same time, “You dummy, he’ll be fine, he’ll fall asleep in a second,” but it’s drowned out by the panicked part and the part that takes his loyalty to Alex super seriously. Alex is his family and he fucked up pretty badly taking care of his blood family, but he’s not going to fuck up taking care of Alex.

“You don’t–I just…woke up and…I can’t remember….”

“You don’t have to,” John says. “Don’t worry about it, you don’t have to remember. It was just a dream. You’re okay and I’m okay and it was just a dream.”

This is honestly more to himself than to Alex, at this point.

“I’m not a child,” Alex says. He says it more to himself than John, which settles the issue. John grabs a hoodie from the top of the dresser. “I just–I was scared.”

“I know, baby,” John murmurs. “It’s okay. I’m leaving now, I’ll stay on the phone with you in the car, okay?”

“You don’t have to,” Alex mumbles. “You don’t have to come, I just–I don’t know why–I shouldn’t have called.”

“No, no, no,” John says. “You can always call me.” He walks out into the living room and grabs his coat, struggling into it one-handed as he continues to hold the phone to his ear.

“It’s…late,” Alex says. He yawns. John grabs his bag and his keys and leaves the apartment. “I just woke up alone. I hate waking up alone when I’m sick. I woke up alone and I was scared.”

In the original draft of this scene, Alex was much more coherent. I had to go back and make him a little more scattered so that it would be believable that he would forget this entire conversation come morning.

Also, the “I woke up and you weren’t there” is about as clear a window into Alex’s psyche as we’re likely to get, at least when it comes to this part of him that desperately needs other people and refuses to acknowledge it. There’s a reason he keeps repeating it.

“That’s okay,” he says. He locks the door and starts down the stairs, trying to go as quietly as possible. It’s the middle of the night–he doesn’t want to wake up the whole building.

“I should go.”

“Don’t bother, I’m already up, I’m already coming over,” John insists softly. “You don’t have to go anywhere, Alex, you can stay right here on the phone with me.”

“I don’t have anything to say,” Alex says. He still sounds dreamy and soft, not entirely awake for the conversation. John starts walking faster and finally hits the ground floor.

“I don’t have anything to say,” the true sign of Alex being sick XD

“It’s okay,” he says as gently as he can manage. “You don’t have to say anything. You can just sit there, and I’ll know you’re okay and you’ll know you’re okay.”

“Mm.”

John is not super great at taking care of other people, especially when he’s so panicked. He’s also beating himself up for not being there.

It’s cold as dicks, so John doesn’t dawdle in the parking lot. His engine is loud in the frozen silence of the night, and he hears Alex startle over the other end of the phone.

There are a lot of references to how cold it is during this story. Winter 2015 was THE. WORST. in the northeast and in Jersey, too. I have like…legitimate trauma from that winter. We had a record snowfall in Boston and like 90% of it fell over less than 30 days. It snowed every weekend. There was nowhere to put it because none of it melted because it was also record low temperatures. By the end of it I was literally crying every day because I couldn’t stand it anymore. New Jersey didn’t get quite as much snow as we did, but it was just as bitterly cold.

“I’m starting the car,” he tells him. He puts the phone on speaker and rests it on the seat next to him. “That’s all. I’m on my way to you now.”

“Okay,” Alex mumbles. “Okay. You don’t have to.”

“I know,” John says, “but I’m going to. The car’s already moving.”

Silence on the other end. In fact, it stays silent as John pulls out of the parking lot, as he turns down their street, as he turns onto the main road.

“Alex?” he asks again.

No answer, save for a soft snuffling sound. Alex, he assumes, is asleep again.

He reaches across to his phone one-handed and ends the call. He’ll be there soon enough, and he trusts that nothing will happen to Alex in the five minutes it will take him to finish his drive across town.

I like the idea of John not even taking the time to put his phone in the dash clip or hook it up to the AUX cable–he just hits the speaker button and drives.

The other big motivating factor for him, outside of his own panic and need to take care of Alex out of familial responsibility, is how small and scared Alex sounds through all of this. I’m a really lazy writer, so this is a construction I use in the text a lot (though I haven’t used it yet in this section, I think), but John and Alex are both big obnoxious personalities and thus, when one of them is acting quieter and more timid than usual, they always make note of how out of character that is. They don’t like to show weakness, so when they’re too tired to hide their weakness, it’s a flashing red light to the other that something is really wrong. Here, John knows what’s wrong–Alex is sick–but it’s still eerie and unsettling enough that it spurs him to move more quickly.

The Washingtons’ house is dark when John pulls up outside, and for the first time he realizes how crazy this whole thing is. He’s breaking into his mentor’s house because his boyfriend had a bad dream. This is…not normal. It’s possible John is majorly overreacting. Alexander is an adult, he can take care of himself, he doesn’t need John rushing to his aid in the middle of the night.

But John remembers how lonely and needy and touch-starved he was when he was sick, and that was in his own bed. Alex is alone in an unfamiliar place. And Mrs. Washington gave him a key. So this isn’t…totally weird.

Probably.

Another construction I use a lot because I’m a lazy writer–John and Alex are low-key self-aware that their relationship is really more intense and obsessive than is healthy, and convince themselves that because they’re self-aware, it makes it okay.

He sits in the car for another minute after coming to that conclusion, weighing his options, trying to decide just how crazy and clingy this makes him. In the end, he can still hear the soft way Alex said his name over the phone, and that answers the question for him. He would do anything for Alex on a normal day–he doesn’t stand a chance at resisting when Alex is sick and scared.

Just hitting you right in the solar plexus with the image of Alex’s quiet, scared voice over the phone. You’re welcome.

He closes his car door as quietly as he can manage and walks swiftly up the front walk. He tries to act casual–he’s very aware of the fact that he’s a latino kid in a nice neighborhood in torn jeans and a black hoodie, and while people in Jersey are more likely to call the cops than shoot on sight, the only thing that could make this more embarrassing would be having to explain it to the Washingtons and a police officer at two in the morning.

I try to walk a line between a realistic amount of thought and reference to how race impacts these kids and keeping it from distracting from the story at hand. I’m very aware that I’m a white lady with wildly different experiences, but I don’t want to erase that aspect of the characters.

He unlocks the door and opens it as softly as he can, slipping inside and locking it behind him. He hears a rustling in the hallway and winces, preparing an explanation in his mind, but it’s just Nelson, who trots over to him and head-butts his leg looking for pets.

“Hey, buddy,” John murmurs to him. “I thought I told you to look after my guy while I was gone.” Of course, even if Alex had been awake when John left, he’d probably have kicked Nelson and Blue out of his room–John will never in a million years understand Alex’s universal disinterest in animals.

I’m more of an Alex than a John, tbh. I’m a little more accepting of animals than Alex is, but I really don’t care for cats and I’m not like, crazy about other animals. (Except bunnies. I love bunnies.) I tend to love dogs I know and am vaguely aware of dogs I don’t know.

Anyway, GWash’s dogs are named for his horses because even though he had a trillion dogs IRL, it was easier to find the names of his horses than his dogs and I am, as I have mentioned several times, quite a lazy writer.

(Also, Alex totally would have kicked the dogs out of his room.)

But Alex is why he’s here, so he scratches Nelson behind the ears one more time and then walks quietly down the hall to Alex’s room. The door is open a crack and John nudges it the rest of the way open, peering inside.

“John?” Alex whispers. He’s lying in bed, propped up by half a dozen pillows. He’s also half asleep, with the blankets pulled all the way up to his chin. There’s a nightlight plugged into the corner, letting off a faint blue glow. Just enough to allow someone unfamiliar with the room to navigate their way to the bathroom, John figures, but it’s also enough to see how pale Alex looks, still.

“It’s me,” John confirms. “Just me.” Nelson nuzzles his hand. “Me and Nelson,” he amends.

“You didn’t have to come over,” Alex says. He sounds more Alex-like, now. Still tired and a little distant, but he doesn’t seem as scared or lost as he did on the phone. “The whole point of me being here is so you won’t be around me and get sick again. You didn’t have to come over.”

“I wanted to,” John says. “I needed to make sure you were okay.” He puts his bag on the floor and toes off his shoes, then gets gently into bed next to Alex, lying on top of the covers. Alex is immediately pressed to his side, arms around John’s waist and clutching him more tightly than John would have expected given his current state.

Alex talks a good game, but he was pretty desperate for John. I think, while he’s mostly over connecting every sickness to his mother’s death–he gets sick enough that it would be nearly unmanageable to think of it every time he has a sniffle–these particular circumstances of being separated from someone he loves are digging into that same place in his heart. He’s exhausted and he can’t think and he’s miserable and he just wants to be held and loved and while he understands why John is elsewhere and, in fact, wants him to stay there and be well instead of getting sick again, he’s also sad and sick and desperate.

“This sucks,” Alex croaks.

“I know,” John says. Alex’s hair is stringy and sweaty and tangled, but John smoothes it out anyway, brushing it back from his face. “Just try to sleep, babe. You’ll feel better if you can sleep for a little while. And if you have another nightmare, I’ll be right here.”

“I don’t know if it was a nightmare,” Alex mutters. He yawns against John’s chest. “I just woke up.” He yawns again, and when John looks down, his eyes are already closed. “I woke up and you weren’t there.”

“I know,” John repeats softly. “I know, baby. I’ll be here this time, okay? Just sleep.”

John feels super, super guilty about not being there.

And that seems to be all it takes. Alex is back to breathing deeply and evenly just moments later, still wrapped around John in sleep.

That should be John’s cue to ease himself out from under Alex, tuck him in, and head back to their apartment. Leave Alex here to sleep the rest of the night in peace, get some rest of his own away from Alex’s germs, swing by again tomorrow morning before work, maybe….

But, he should wait a few extra minutes, just to be sure he doesn’t wake Alex up. Just long enough to be positive that Alex is truly and deeply asleep. A few more minutes won’t hurt.

And Alex’s desperation is mirrored in John. He also understands why Alex is quarantined and doesn’t want to be sick again and knows this is for the best, but it’s cold and it’s fucking February and he hasn’t slept alone in months and he wants to hold Alex as badly as Alex wants to be held.

Nelson gets up from the floor near the door and walks over to John’s side of the bed, looking up at him curiously.

“Sorry, buddy, I’m not here for you tonight,” he says. Nelson noses at his leg and, when John doesn’t push him away, jumps up onto the bed and settles himself at the bottom, his head resting on John’s feet. “He’s not gonna like that,” John tells him, but he doesn’t make any move to discourage him.

Asleep in a warm, soft bed with Alex in his arms and a dog on his feet is pretty much John’s ideal fantasy.

And it would be mean to shove him out of the way when he’s just gotten settled. So, really, John is doing everyone a favor by just snuggling with Alex for a few more minutes….

Yeah, he knew he wasn’t moving after that XD

It’s midnight now and my brain is mush. If there are any PARTICULAR QUESTIONS you have about this, plz feel free to ask for elaboration!

[breyolyn-blog]

Calamities of the Universe

So, the first fic I post in my blog it’s Stuckony. And angsty. Probably full of mistakes too, cause I’m rushing through this because I have to STUDY for a test I have in SIX hours. 

Hope you like it!

BTW, it’s long. And NOT STEVE FRIENDLY.

Steve Rogers’ POV

Of course he hasn’t forgotten about his soulmates. Bucky is impossible to forget, not ever. But it was been quite a while since their third has crossed his mind (he was always a bit afraid of sharing Buck with this new someone; even after the serum turned him into a living Adonis, because Bucky is his and is precious and no one deserves, not even his memory after his 70 year nap); and he is totally unprepared for this. Tony Stark. He doesn’t think that he could ever be ready for a man that can cut as deep with his tongue as with a knife; who is always trying to look bigger than he is, sucking the air in any room with that arrogance and posture.

So, when he sees dark lines of writing on Stark’s right side, he reads them and he freezes. There, in between his ribs, a jagged scar barely missing the first letter, there’s a “Mr. Stark” and right under it another line “I wasn’t su-” that he can’t read completely. Stark sees him watching and laughs bitterly.

“Really original, hnm?” he mocks, still checking the ark reactor to see if the new one works fine. “You can’t imagine the amount of people that starts conversations with me that way, just to have a chance. My teenage self was so hopeful every time it happened, but after a while I stopped caring. If it is ‘meant to be’ it’ll happen, right?” Tony says with a bitter smile, pulling his shirt down, and leaving the bathroom.

‘I can imagine it…it was the same thing with me.’ Steve doesn’t say, thinking about the “Captain” neatly scrawled on his inner right thigh. He takes a few deep breaths and finishes drying his hands before going out.

He doesn’t tell Stark.

{{{---}}}

He doesn’t tell Stark because…because he doesn’t want Tony, and he is not ready to pretend to like him after the Hellicarrier; and Bucky is still fresh in his mind, so he shuts up and goes on his road trip, and doesn’t feel guilty. He does not feel sorry about hiding something so fundamental from a person that had his back on a life-and-death situation and proved to be a good man; because Tony Stark made pretty clear (in many interviews) that he doesn’t need a soulmate, that he is fine on his own. A man like that…well, maybe he doesn’t deserve a soulmate; he doesn’t deserve him or Bucky’s memory.

-{}-

He doesn’t call Stark when he starts to suspect HYDRA, because that would be admitting that the man was right about SHIELD. He doesn’t use the number he knows can reach the genius because he is not prepared to owe him. And then Bucky comes back, like a miracle, and he doesn’t want him near his Bucky.

He keeps quiet about the soulmate thing because if he tells him now, Stark will know that Bucky is his soulmate too. And he would look hard for him, would learn everything there possible is to know about him (it’s too risky, with those HYDRA files out there and the information he and Natasha were told in New Jersey). Besides, Bucky is his, alright? Tony doesn’t have a right to him. Steve is the one that lost everything, he gets to keep this one thing to himself. He gets to keep his soulmate to himself, okay?

-{}-

He is proven right when Ultron happens (he would never trust someone like Stark with Bucky, he is unworthy, with his secrets and his shifting blame and his lies). And if the trust he places in Wanda is more out of desperation to prove Tony wrong than empathy; no one needs to know.

-{}-

And so, they move to the Compound; and it’s good to know that Tony won’t be poking around where he shouldn’t. (JARVIS being gone helps too; the AI was too used to tell Stark everything and keep looking even when Tony said stop…and wasn’t that a sign of how problematic and destructive Starks inventions could be?).

The team grows stronger. Wanda is a strong asset; the Vision is weird but eager to learn (and keeping him away from Stark’s influence is a good reason to let him in). Besides, having the Vision bond with Wanda (although it makes him heave a little every time he thinks about it) is a good thing; she’s part of his team and the Vision will follow her. Colonel Rhodes is experienced and a good pilot, even if he is way too loyal to Stark. Natasha is a great second and Sam is as loyal as ever and life.is.good. He is content. The only thing missing is Bucky, but Steve can wait if it means Tony won’t meet him anytime soon.

-{}-

Then Lagos happens and it’s his fault, somewhat, for letting Rumlow live and get distracted. Wanda is the one to pay the price, poor kid, she gets crucified by the media. Then Tony shows up with these ridiculous Accords (named after his disaster; so obviously he had a hand (or two or three) on it).

He refuses, of course he does. It’s not the Governments’ place to tell them who and how to defend. They are the ones with the powers, so they get to decide that. They-he knows best. Their (his) hands are the safest there are. (Natasha siding with Stark hurts a little, but he knows she’ll come around).

Peggy dies, and he dies a little with her too. She (besides his soulmate) was the only thing left of his in this time; he’ll miss having her with him. He wishes Bucky was standing beside him, saying goodbye to her. But Sharon’s there, and she’s as good a company as anyone.

Vienna is bombed and Bucky is framed; thus Steve convinces Sharon to help him; and together with Sam he leaves for Bucharest. Bucky is innocent, and he won’t die with a ‘shoot on sight’ order, like a dog. He is sorry for hurting those officers, but they wouldn’t stand down and let him take Bucky away. And he’s willing to sacrifice a lot to keep Bucky; he will sacrifice everything.

They run, crash a few cars, destroy a few things, but eventually get stopped by a cat-man (who turns out to be the new King of Wakanda) and War Machine. They get arrested (what?) by the UN and their gear gets taken away (like he’d need it to get out of here if he wanted to). Bucky gets restrained and is shown off like a circus animal. Tony offers him a deal (he knew Stark had wrote the Accords, how else could he offer such a thing? He was obviously waiting for something like this to happen, so he could pressure them into signing those papers; manipulative and slippery like rich people always are).

And he would have; if it wasn’t for how Tony treated Wanda. She is not a criminal to lock her up! Less of all on her home, where she is supposed to be safe. He refuses the deal (when he thinks back to it, he is sure Sam would have supported his decision).

Then something happens to Bucky and he tries to stop him from running off and disappearing; he stops a fucking chopper and they somehow end up all wet, again (always water and ice with them, right?). Sam finds them and together they manage to get Bucky out and hid him; securing his metal arm in case he is ‘hostile’ (as Sam calls it) when he wakes up.

When he does wake up, it’s worse than what Steve could have imagined. Another five winter soldiers? This is why the Accords are a crappy idea! Before, he’d had the Avengers ready for battle in hours. Now, with Tony and his Accords, he can’t trust half his team nor use their own resources. He has to wait for Clint and Wanda (and that guy Sam vouched for); and stay out of sight until they arrive. Only then they can snatch a plane or helicopter or something and go stop the bad guy.

So, because he can’t trust Stark or Natasha, he calls Sharon. She is a good girl, a nice dame. Not near on the same level as Peggy, but she gives them what they need; so he gives her what she’s wanted since DC (a kiss that means nothing to him, because he has Bucky back and Peggy’s kiss was far better) as a reward.

They meet with the team (plus this guy that calls himself ‘Ant-man’ and is obviously new at the hero thing) in an Airport somewhere in Germany and they get ready to go. But the airport is evacuated and with that their chances of a no confrontation route. They need to get to Siberia now. He needs to prove that Bucky is innocent and he needs to stop the other soldiers so that everyone will believe they can be trusted; that the Avengers will protect them. Tony and his Accords can’t stop them, even if he doesn’t want to help them.

The battle is a mess: friend fighting friend, and the team hurting each other and he hates Tony for doing this to them, to him. This is (was) his family and now it’s broken; because of secrets and lies and guilt. He resents a little the trust that Tony puts in this kid he is sure he just met (such intel like how to take him down could be very dangerous if his opponent was someone more powerful), but won’t listen to them.

His team splits up in the fight and they (he and Bucky) are chosen to go and stop the threat. It feels like losing. But Natasha lets them go, and Steve knew she would eventually come to her senses; that she wouldn’t be persuaded by Tony for much longer. She is a smart woman, Tony can’t control her like he tried to do with Wanda.

They get to the Quinjet and nobody catches up to them. Bucky wonders if he’s worth it, and how can he even ask that? He is worth everything Steve has.

They get to Siberia, and Steve tries really hard to make Bucky remember why all of this is worth it; to be together again, like they were back in Brooklyn and in then in the war. Their freedom is so close. They just have to stop this mad doctor and prevent the soldiers from leaving the base.

Tony finds them, somehow, and although he doesn’t give them a proper apology; Steve is kind of glad to have him as backup. Like Natasha’s report said: Iron Man yes. He will be useful. Steve is suddenly concerned about what Bucky might say to Tony, so he signals him to keep quiet. When Tony sees that Bucky is still pointing at him and says “At ease, soldier. I'm not currently after you.”; he feels his heart stop. He remembers now why he was so terrified of Bucky leaving him behind back in the 40’s: what if he met their third and left him? But Buck doesn’t react to the words and Steve chokes back a sigh of relief. Maybe HYDRA took the words away? Or made him forget about them? It’s an awful thing to think about, but…perhaps it’s for the better.

They search through the base following the armor’s readings and find the room where the soldiers were kept. But the soldiers are dead and the doctor is waiting for them after a door they can’t break through just yet. The man’s name is Zemo, he is a sokovian; and he plans to destroy the Avengers.

It works. His deranged plans work. The video they are forced to watch is bad; and he can’t help but look at Bucky, who has to watch his body (under HYDRA’s control) kill a friend. He looks at Tony too, and he feels for him, but why can’t he just accept the need to hid this from him? He could understand the punch he got, but there was no need to attack Bucky. It wasn’t him, he didn’t do it!

He tries to talk to Stark, but the man won’t listen, so he must be stopped before he can kill Bucky. Steve attacks with all he has, and almost loses. But Bucky has his back, and he manages to throw Iron Man to the floor.

Why? Why did Stark had to be their third? Why him? Why couldn’t he have died before Bucky showed up again? Why does he have to be so arrogant and loud and smart!?

He rips his shield out of the armor and helps Bucky get to his feet.  Stark’s words about the shield and his father make him pause, but he lets them go; lets it drop, because he has Bucky and that’s all he ever needed.

They step away from the base, slowly walking into the snow. The King approaches them, but before any of them can do anything, he offers them sanctuary on his country. Steve is doubtful, but he guesses that if the King has heard Zemo and is ready to turn him in; then he understands that they were set-up and…well, he seems remorseful enough. So he agrees in behalf of all the team (he is sure they will be relieved to have a safe place to go to when he rescues them).

T’Challa asks him about Stark’s wellbeing; but he says that they got it out of their systems and he is cooling off; surely putting his pride back together after the defeat. The King gives him an odd look, but accepts his words as true (as everyone should).

They leave Siberia behind, and despite the fighting (he hates fighting his own people) and the injuries (he looks morosely at Bucky’s stump); he hasn’t breath this easy in a long time.

{{{---}}}

James Barnes’ POV

When he got into that plane he was almost in a catatonic state. He left Steve carry him inside and sit him in one of the seats (gentle, oh so gentle, like he was some fragile relic to keep safe). The blonde then went to talk to the king (and wasn’t he trying to kill him a few hours ago?) while he just sat there, like a puppet whose strings are cut. His head couldn’t stop re-playing the words he’d heard all over again.

At ease, soldier. I'm not currently after you.

Did you know?

I don’t care

He killed my mom

Do you even remember them?

Do you even remember them?

Do you even remember them?

He couldn’t entirely process it. Tony Stark was his other soulmate.

HYDRA never made a great effort to delete the words; because they thought the same thing that he did: that whoever his soulmate is was part of the war and that they would have died already. That and the constant wipes… he didn’t even remember what soulmates were most days.

And when he managed to break through the programming he was such a mess the only thing he wanted was to run away.  Away from HYDRA, and SHIELD and all the agencies that were out for his blood. Away from the fragments of maybe-memories, of blood and death and screams and pleas that were never answered.

He got out.

He lost most of the people looking for him, and the others eventually stopped (except the stubborn blonde and his friends). He managed to rent a small place; not very safe and really old but his; and had written through a good number of notebooks (nightmares, memories, sensations, dreams…most of the time not even he was sure of what they were); patching up a bit of his memory every month.

And then, suddenly, his face was in the papers again; and he knew he had to flee. But he didn’t, couldn’t, because Steve was there and he wanted to talk when they should be running. The officers got in and his survival instinct kicked in. Still, he took his bag and jumped, trying not to hurt anybody else; but this cat-man came out of nowhere and it became a chase. And then an arrest, and then a prison, and then and then and then…

They got here, somehow. Abandoning the whole team they had put together, they got the jet and flew to Siberia. Stark followed them and he spoke to him (what had he said? He, he couldn’t have said that…right? Stevie would have said something…). But the clusterfucks continued, with this doctor and his vicious but brilliant plan.

The video…oh, god, the video. He would be lying if he said he doesn’t remember; because he remembers all his missions, they didn’t want him to forget that, would they? But it was the first time he had been working with a member of a family he had destroyed (and how hadn’t he known?); so, he got to watch Stark crumble as the footage played, before his very eyes.

And in that moment? He would have gladly asked Stark to end him, if it would bring the man some closure. But Steve had to get in the way, and he wouldn’t let Stark kill his soulmate, he just couldn’t. For Stevie, that little punk that he loved with all his heart, even if he didn’t remember the man very well; even if this Steve was so very different from that one, more than just physically.

As he lay there in the cold concrete, liberated from that metal arm that had killed so many people and listening to the ragged breaths beside him; he wanted it to end.

But Stevie wanted him back on his feet, so he followed him, like he always used to do.

Now he was starting to regret that decision. He was hurting everywhere. People had died. The teammates that had their backs were probably in prison. They are on a plane heading towards a mysterious country whose new leader wanted them death a few hours before. He had lost his arm and Steve had dropped his shield like it was trash. They had beaten their third soulmate half to death and just left him there.

So why is Steve smiling?

{{{---}}}

Bucky had been distant ever since they had come back from Siberia. He hadn’t wanted to share a room, or eat together more than once a day. He spent most of his days inside his room, writing on a notebook the palace staff had provided for him. Or outside in the open, lost in the jungle so that Steve couldn’t find him. He also had sessions with a lot of doctors and scientists, people that he thought could help with his memory and the trigger words.

It’s been a few weeks now, since the whole ‘Civil War’ thing; and Steve had finally convinced the King to let them break the others out of the Raft. Natasha had gathered the intel about where they held and along with Bucky they had being putting together a plan to break into the underwater prison. Bucky didn’t talk much either; he just listened to the blond tell his version of the facts to a pissed off Black Widow and anyone who would listen. The fact that they were soulmates or that the Winter Soldier had murdered Stark’s parents was never mentioned.

Rogers had been gleeful about integrating his soulmate to his team; but Bucky hadn’t really shown the same enthusiasm. Natasha was a little ticked off by it, but Steve often reminder her (as well as himself) that Bucky had go through a lot of trauma at the hands of Tony Stark (losing his arm a second time hadn’t been easy) and just needed some time to go back to his old self. To be the same soulmate Steve lovingly remembered.

Their mission, to no one’s surprise, was a success. They had gotten in and gotten out in a matter of minutes, without much trouble. But the mood inside the jet was dark; and not much was said during the flight.

Until Sam, when they were about to land, asked about Bucky’s arm, and if Stark had lied to him about going there as a friend.

When Steve had opened his mouth to say ‘yes’; the other super soldier had enough.

“No.” At Steve’s surprised look, the brunet continues “don’t you dare keep lying about this, Steve. These people know him, so don’t you dare.”

“Bucky” Steve starts, reaching out to touch the brunette’s shoulder.

“No” Bucky snaps, moving back to avoid the blonde’s touch. The rest of the team stares with wide eyes at the blatant rejection. “You didn’t tell me he was our soulmate, Rogers, you didn’t tell me. And judging by the way he flinched when I first talked to him, you didn’t tell him either. How could you do that? Why would you do that!?” the soldier’s breathing is fast and his fist is clench tight enough that his skin is white; but he is still dodging Steve’s eyes.

Natasha squints her eyes at that new information, and Sam swears in a whisper. Clint decides to take Wanda to the medical team at one side of the landing pad, not giving a damn in the moment.

“What, is he not good enough for you? Do you hate him so much that you decided to keep to yourself that you two are soulmates, that he has another soulmate and perhaps even more important, that I killed his parents!?” The hateful and disgusted shine in the brunette’s eyes make Steve wish he hadn’t made eye contact. Sam’s mouth is gapping and his eyes are wide open, incredulous; the Black Widow is clenching her teeth and her hands are at her sides, reaching for her weapons.

“Buck-”

“Don’t call me that! I’m not Bucky anymore, I’m certainly not your Bucky anymore. I don’t know if I ever want to be your ‘Bucky’ again.” The blonde flinches at that, like he has been kicked in the stomach.

“B-please, just, let me explain-”

“Explain what, Rogers? That you have been lying to our soulmate since the day you met him? That you kept his parent’s murder a secret so that you wouldn’t have to…to what? Ask for his help? Be reasonable? Ask forgiveness? Listen to him?” James can’t deal with the blonde anymore, so he turns around to leave. But before, he says his last piece “You are not my Stevie anymore either. I am ashamed of being your soulmate; and your mother would be ashamed of having you as a son.” With those final words he leaves the hangar and goes to medical, to see if what he has in mind is possible.

He has a request to make to the king.

And it’s not to go back into cryo like he first wanted.

[neverisalongtime-ja-blog]

Chapter 25: #ThePinkAndBlueDay

Hello everyone! I want to say that today’s chapter is on of my all time favorite! I love it, is different but is so cool! I want to read what you think about it so leave feedback!

BTW Next week is the turn of the Josh POV chapter so I hope you all are as excited as I am!

Thanks to everyone who reads the fic, much love to you all! ♥ 

Remember to visit Anastasia’s IG profile:

Anastasia_Truman  ❤️️

Read chapter 24

Those days in Los Angeles were weird for Anastasia. She didn’t feel comfortable with herself, she couldn’t stop comparing to Josh’s new girl, who was younger and obviously more vibrant than her. She locked herself in her house for a couple of days, alone. She did it as an exercise to find herself again, to learn and love herself again. She took long baths, cooked nice food, watched Netflix, wrote songs, recorded some of them and even swam in her heated pool.

She was starting to enjoy being alone. The past months she spent all of her nights with either Josh or Mandy. This time, she was all by herself and by the third day she was liking it. That didn’t mean she was over the situation, the image of Josh and Lauren didn’t leave her head for a second. Anastasia kept feeling empty, sad and hopeless, the natural stages of a breakup, a breakup that happened almost two months ago and that she was still suffering from. When she thought she was over it she found out that Josh had cheated on her and she believed things couldn’t get worse, but she didn’t want to say it because things could always get worse.

One Thursday morning, the blue-haired girl received a call from Eric, saying that in the afternoon they would have an appointment to get matching tattoos with the band logo. It was something they’d been planning for a while, it had been Mandy’s idea and finally Eric made the appointment. The band’s logo was Nick’s creation, Anastasia has always been obsessed with the moon as it involved an important part of her life and beliefs. One night at Nick and Mandy’s childhood house, looking at a sky dressed with plenty stars and a full moon in all its glory, the blonde guy came up with the idea of two circles forming a full and crescent moon, representing ups and downs of the career they chose to have. It was an instant yes for the rest of the band members and now they were on the way to have it forever on their skin.

It was the first tattoo for Eric and Anastasia; the siblings were much familiarized with ink. Mandy already had seven small tattoos and Nick had four large marks on his right arm and on his back. Anastasia was excited and nervous, which was normal, Eric had a little more confidence. Anastasia decided to make her double moon in dark blue with four vertical dots in the lower part representing the four members of Dead Curse; she chose to have it on her right forearm, in the middle of it. Mandy had it on her left ribs and the design was the logo in light blue with a watercolor style background simulating the night sky, remembering the day the sign was created. Nick chose the circles in black on his right shoulder with four stars also in black, and the spot chosen by Eric was under his left elbow, just the circles in dark blue because he like it how it looked on Anastasia’s skin.

That was a great afternoon, the four Dead Curse members were already very close but to share that experience created a new bond between them.

-          How have you been feeling? – Eric asked Anastasia while giving her a ride back home, just the two of them.

-          I don’t know, I fear this is a never ending thing – Anastasia said.

-          With Josh? – Eric asked again.

-          I don’t know what’s next and at the same time I’m afraid there’ll be nothing more – She said looking out the window – Like he’s going on with his life and I’m stuck in this hole waiting for… I don’t know what I’m waiting for to be honest.

-          You hope to be back with him – Eric said as if he were reading Anastasia’s mind. She looked at him.

-          That’s not gonna happen – Anastasia said – I don’t want it to happen. I don’t know if I can forgive him. How can I trust him again?

-          Time heals – Eric said – And I recognize real love when I see it, I have it with Hannah and I know you had it with Josh.

-          You said it: had it.

-          You don’t love him anymore? – Eric said and laughed – Bullshit – He parked his car in front of Anastasia’s house – Do you want to know the reason he broke up with you?

-          He found a better girl.

-          No. I had a conversation with him last night, I’m gonna email it to you – He said taking his phone. Anastasia’s phone beeped letting her know she had new mail – Read it.

-          Thanks for the ride, it was a great day – She said, shut the car door and didn’t look back.

Maybe Eric was right. No, Eric was definitely right. She still loved Josh and she didn’t want to because it was very obvious that he didn’t love her back. He loved a younger, fitter, blonder girl and that’s the scene she tried to tattoo on her mind, she wanted it to be etched in her head like the mark that had been made on her arm that afternoon: forever, so to have a reason to lose the love she had for Josh.

She looked at her phone and saw the message with the conversation Eric sent to her. She was tempted to open it but after thinking about it she let her phone down. She just wanted to forget Josh and maybe that email wouldn’t help. She walked up the stairs to do the tattoo cleaning proceeding the tattoo artist instructed her to do. She took a bath, laid down in her bed, and turned on the TV, on a channel that just showed old movies. Breakfast at Tiffany’s appeared on the screen, she stayed there watching her favorite movie about a high level prostitute, because that’s what Audrey Hepburn character was, read between the lines. After the movie she felt asleep.

Next day she woke up late, her phone alarm didn’t go off and then she remembered she left her phone downstairs the night before. She brushed her teeth thinking about that damn email Eric sent her yesterday.  She still wasn’t sure about reading it, it could change everything… or it could change absolutely nothing. She decided to have breakfast first, a nice avocado toast, well, she went for two avocado toasts, orange juice and a banana; she felt so healthy it was weird. She did the dishes and then she noticed the phone on her kitchen island, she took it impulsively, moved her fingertip to the mail app and opened it, and at that moment, at that precise moment, the screen turned black and a call went through. It was Mandy. Anastasia, frustrated, picked it up.

-          What are you doing? – Mandy asked with her sweet voice.

-          I just had breakfast and you? – Anastasia asked back.

-          Not much – Her friend replied – Do you want to spend the day at Venice with me?

-          Even if I want to say no, I can’t – Anastasia replied with a laugh.

-          You can but I wouldn’t accept it – Mandy said – I’ll pick you up in half hour, is that alright?

-          Sure!

 The phone went back to the original position and Anastasia ran upstairs to get a shower and dress up forgetting about the email.

 Venice was a place where the two friends always found peace. That crazy place filled with unique people, the shore and all the activities around made them feel like it was home. Venice was the place they went when they sneaked out of class back in the day; if they didn’t have plans on a Saturday they always visited Venice Beach.

 Mandy always had this dream of living in a colorful house in front of the Venice canals, with flowers in every window and a small boat on the canal in front of her porch. 

 The girls were thrift shopping on the main street in Venice near Pacific Ave, thrifting was a hobby they both had, finding amazing pieces with history always filled Anastasia with joy; she was a real fashion lover.

 -          Look at this jacket! – Anastasia said to Mandy showing her a biker jacket in electric metallic blue.

-          I love it – Mandy said going through her own rack of clothes – Oh my God! Look! – Mandy opened her eyes big; she found the same jacket in metallic pink.

-          It’s like heaven sent – Anastasia said and both laughed.

-          We should stop wearing clothes the same color of our hair, though – Mandy said.

-          Says who? – Anastasia asked looking at a pile of t-shirts.

-          Yeah… That’s not going to happen – Mandy said.

 After buying five pairs of pants, four skirts, the two jackets and almost ten t-shirts between the two, the friends walked to a sunglasses vendor spot on the boardwalk.

 -          Look, nineties babe – Anastasia said showing Mandy a pair of round sunglasses with a white frame.

-          Every damn shape of sunglasses looks good on your face. How is that possible? – Mandy said.

-          It is what it is – Anastasia said shrugging and trying on a wood frame this time.

-          Do you think that we’re childish? – Mandy suddenly dropped while trying on a heart-shaped frame in pastel pink.

-          No! – Anastasia answered – Why do you ask?

-          I had a fight with Peyton this morning – Anastasia understood why Mandy wanted to go to Venice – And he told me that I needed to grow up and stop wearing “stupid pink hair” – She said making quotation marks with her fingers.

-          I think Peyton is stupid – Anastasia was also wearing heart-shaped sunglasses in blue – Does Peyton think it’s stupid to match your clothes with your hair too? – Anastasia asked remembering the comment Mandy made at the thrift shop earlier.

-          Yes, he said that too – Mandy said still wearing the pink glasses.

-          Mandy! You don’t have to change because a man says so. Peyton felt in love with who you are, no matter if your hair is blonde, like when you met him, or pink – Anastasia said.

-          I know…

-          Why was the fight for?

-          I don’t really remember, something really stupid like leaving a glass were he doesn’t like – Mandy said – Every start of a season is the same. He becomes this anxious monster and everything bothers him.

-          It’s normal. He is nervous.

-          Yes, but he doesn’t need to take it on me.

-          I know, what an asshole – Anastasia saw her friend smile – I say you are going to buy those pink heart sunglasses and the ones with the blue crystal, and I’m going to get these ones in blue – She referred to the also heart-shaped glasses – and the ones with the white frame. But you have to wear the pink ones right now and I’ll be wearing the blue heart-shaped sunglasses.

-          We should wear our pink and blue jackets too! – Mandy said smiling.

 And so they did. The two girls looked like cartoon characters with jackets and sunglasses matching their hair but they were in Venice Beach so they blended right with the rest of the people there.

 -          Did you like your tattoo? – Mandy asked Anastasia walking on the boardwalk again.

-          I love it. It wasn’t half bad as I thought it would be – Anastasia answered.

-          See? I told ya – Mandy said – You know what I’m thinking? We have been friends for so long and have shared so many things, we shared high school, we share our career, we tried to share a house once, didn’t work out as we thought, but anyway. You’ve been a huge part of my life and have helped me during so many times of awe and suffering, you are my rock and I know I’m all of that to you too.

-          Oh God! Are you going to propose to me?

-          Anastasia Truman – Both girls stopped walking – Would you like to make me the happiest girl in the world and share a friendship tattoo with me so you can take me with you to eternity? – Anastasia covered her face with her hands and faked a huge smile.

-          YES! – She screamed – Aren’t you going to bend on one knee?

-          No, that would be too much.

-          That’s probably the only half proposition I will have in my life.

-          Let’s find a tattoo shop.

-          Oh! Are we gonna do it right now?

-          Yes! – Mandy laughed – There are many shops here, but I know one! Nick has a friend there.

 The two girls walked a little bit more until they found the tattoo shop Mandy was referring to. They went in and saw the guy Mandy was talking about

 -          Fred! – She called him. He was sitting on a table working on some drawings.

-          Amanda! – The guy said Mandy’s full name back. He was short, with short black hair and green emerald eyes in glasses with thick black frame, he was wearing a shirt with a black and white grip print and black pants. His body was full of tattoos, obviously.

-          Nobody calls me that way so don’t start – Mandy said – Fred did some of my ink work and some of Nick’s too. This is my friend Anastasia – Mandy introduced her to the guy, she smiled and they shook hands – We want tattoos, like right now.

-          Well, I don’t work on anybody without an appointment but for your luck I’m very free today, what do you want? – The girls looked at each other.

-          Good question – Anastasia said.

-          I don’t know. Not our names, that would be too cliché – Mandy said and Anastasia noticed she was still wearing her sunglasses.

-          I know! Hearts! A heart! In the left ring finger! It has the love vein which is connected to the heart – Anastasia said excited.

-          That’s why she is my friend; she’s the smart one – Mandy said to Fred.

-          Let me guess, you – he pointed to Anastasia – want it in blue and you – He pointed to Mandy – want it in pink – Fred said making reference to their outfits.

-          No – Mandy said – I will have the blue one and she will have the pink one – Anastasia smiled.

-          Let me warn you that fingers are a little bit painful but it will be alright because it’s just a small heart.

-          God! I’m so excited! – Mandy said hugging Anastasia – I’ll go first!

 Mandy took her turn and then it was time for Anastasia to sit. Fred was right, it hurt as hell but in a couple of minutes the pain was over and the tiny pink heart looked really cute in contrast with her pale skin, it almost looked like a birth mark, she was pleased and happy to see Mandy so joyful. They girls thanked Fred and hit the boardwalk one more time. Mandy took more snaps than Anastasia could count and posted a handful on Instagram, declaring that Friday with the hashtag #ThePinkAndBlueDay.

 Anastasia heard her stomach roar and decided it was time for food, they walked to a very nice place on Rose Avenue, it was a colourful café with a wall full of neon color graphic art and mini cars full of books. Everything was overwhelming at first, those bright tones, but once inside it fell cozy. Service was fast even though the place was crowded, within minutes Anastasia was enjoying a plate of Bucatini Carbonara and Mandy went for spaghetti with a miso sauce that was, surprisingly, pretty good. After a couple of drinks Anastasia remembered the email Eric sent her the day before.

 -          You know – Anastasia started to say – Yesterday while Eric was giving me a ride home he said that he knew the reason why Josh broke up with me and sent me an email of a convo they had.

-          And what does it say? – Mandy wanted to know.

-          I don’t know. I haven’t read it – Anastasia said.

-          Do you want to know the reason after all?

-          I’m a little bit curious, to be honest.

-          Well I’m curious too. Why lie?

-          What if it makes me feel worse?

-          What if it makes you feel better?

-          Do you really think knowing the real reason Josh broke up with me will make me feel better?

-          I don’t know. Maybe the reason is that he got into some kind of trouble with the mafia and he was forced to date the young daughter of the mob boss to pay for his debt.

-          Mandy! – Anastasia said laughing hard.

-          You’ll never know! You should read it and then think about it. I will be here to support you – Anastasia grabbed her phone – No! Not here. I don’t want people see us cry.

-          Do you think it will make me cry?

-          You never know – Mandy said repeating herself – Let’s go to your place and read it there. With a bottle of wine just in case.

-          You are quite a character – Anastasia kept laughing.

-          But before that, you have been through so much pain today – Mandy said pointing at her new tattoo– And you deserve ice cream.

 Before heading home the friends did a pit stop at an ice cream shop on Abbot Kinney Boulevard to grab some “Wildflower Honey Ricotta Walnut Cookies” ice cream for Anastasia and “Strawberry Honey Balsamic” for Mandy.

 -          Man! I didn’t even understand the name of the flavor but is so good – Mandy said while both tried each other’s choices of ice cream.

 The ride back home was filled with happiness. Anastasia loved to spend days like that with Mandy and she was more than happy with her new tattoo. It’s true what people said, the first time after having some ink it creates a kind of addiction and so far her ink marks were very pretty. Now they were at her place, sitting on her couch with her Macbook on her lap opening Eric’s email. Before clicking on it, she took a large sip of wine and opened the message. There was no turning back.

 It was a series of screenshots. Josh and Eric were having a conversation by text. Eric asked him about Anastasia and then the text exchange took a wild turn.

 Eric: How are things going?

Josh: Well... You know.

Eric: Did you get to talk to Anastasia in New York?

Josh: I didn’t have the balls to do it. Are you going to question that too?

Eric: No man, you are my friend after all.

Josh: She is too.

Eric: I’m not here to judge anybody. You must have a reason to do what you did.

Josh: I can control Lauren. Anastasia is a girl with her shit too together. – Anastasia and Mandy shared a glance.

Eric: Don’t you want a girl with her shit together?

Josh: An doesn’t need me. I have nothing to offer her. I’m making Lauren’s dreams come true. Which dreams can I make come true for Anastasia, a girl who has it all?

Eric: The dream of having a relationship?

Josh: I don’t know. I can’t assure you anything right now ‘cuz I know as soon as she comes back to regular touring I’m gonna fall for her again. I don’t know how to explain this. I love her but I can’t be with her, not right now. All the fame and the magazines thing don’t help. It freaks me out that she is too strong; she doesn’t need me, Eric. She doesn’t need me.

Eric: A relationship isn’t about needing, it’s about loving and you two love the shit out of each other. You literally have NOTHING in common with this girl yet you share so many passions with An.

Josh: I don’t know. I’m happy, though.

Eric: You are?

Josh: I’m having fun!

Eric: I have no doubt about that.

 -          So Josh is a pussy – Mandy said sipping some wine.

-          I don’t even understand. He left me because he can’t control me? – Anastasia said indignant – What kind of misogynist shit this is?

-          I don’t think it’s that way. I believe it has more to do with his low self-esteem. He found a girl, you, who was at his level, a little higher I would say, and he freaked about because he didn’t know how to handle himself in the relationship. I do believe he loves you, though. He is just lost.

-          I don’t give a fuck. He can get lost out of my life right now.

-          You know that’s going to be hard; especially now that we are gonna start touring again.

-          You’re right but this was an eye opener, definitely. I mean… Josh is a pussy – Both friends laughed. And after all Mandy was right, Anastasia felt immensely better now.

Read chapter 26

[yuna-dan]

Broken

This is something I’ve been thinking lately. Can you imagine breaking up with someone and deal with the fact you’re basically the same person? It’s been a while since I wrote angst, so this is bad tbh. I didn’t like it but maybe you do.

Hope you enjoy it.

Warning: Angst with a happy ending. Bad English. Cursing. Reference to self-harm and unhealthy coping mechanism. Btw, I know no one survived that long without eating but since they’re part of someone else consciousness I believe they work differently. Also the time here is kind of weird but it’ll make sense (i hope)

Thomas was mad. He didn’t even know why but every little detail make him angry and snapped to everyone. 

Which was odd. He got mad, yes, but not to the point to shout to his friends. 

He was being petty. Disgusting with everyone. He hadn’t even upload a video on a month. 

There was something weird.

“Soo…” Anxiety asked, drumming his fingers against his jean. Fidgeting his feet and looking everywhere but in front of him.

“That’s it.” Prince said. Hating himself but knowing it was for the best.

Anxiety clenched his jaw, feeling tears forming in his eyes, “I can’t believe this…”

“Anxi-” The darkest trait flinched at the pet name, “Look, we can be friends." 

Anxiety choked a laugh and shook his head, biting his lip trying to stop the fucking tears. "Wouldn’t that be nice.”

“Anxi–”

“Don’t called me that.”

He turned around and exited the room of his boy— he winced. Ex-boyfriend. 

@ThomasSanders: I need to apologize. I don’t know what’s going on inside myself. As soon as I feel better I promised there’ll be a video. @ThomasSanders: I also want you all to know that I love each and one of you and I’m sorry if I hurt someone.

“Morality. Get. Out." 

"Look. Prince I know you are mad but you need–”

“Morality get the fuck out of my room.”

Prince never shout nor get aggressive, so when Logic was cleaning Morality’s black eye he didn’t even know what to say. 

“They need to talk. Both are hurting”

“I know.”

“Thomas is hurting.”

“I know.”

“Will they be okay?” He grabbed his hand and kiss his palm. 

“I don’t know, Mo.”

Logic was staring at Thomas. Thomas was frowning at his logical side.

“What?”

“You haven’t eaten. I’m stating fact here. If you don’t eat you’ll get worse, Thomas.”

Thomas’s eyes were red, meaning he just cried. He had huge dark circles under his eyes. 

“Please just eat, Thomas.”

“I don’t think someone cares if I do, you know?” He sat on a chair, and start eating the sandwich that Logic just made. 

“We care." 

Thomas smiled, but his eyes watered again. 

Anxiety hasn’t come out in a month. He hasn’t eaten. He hasn’t sleep. 

Morality was softly knocking his door, "Kiddo, c'mon.” Morality has been bringing food to his room, and the dishes were in the same place. 

The silent. Morality met silence again. 

“I’ll tell Logan to break the door… I know you need space…" 

Silent. 

"Logan! Bring the freaking ax I’m gonna tear this apart.”

Thomas was feeling empty. Sad. Lonely. 

He still hung with his friends, Morality made sure of that, yet he still had this desire to do nothing. 

Just to sleep all day and to stop feeling so…

So…

So, sad. He still laughs, he still makes his videos, he still does everything. 

But he was sad all the time.

Logic never cry. Never. 

Okay, that’s a lie. He cried just fine but he never sobbed. He was the one that controlled his feelings the best. 

So, Roman was surprised when he found Logic sobbing his eyes out in the kitchen table. He was resting his head on his arms, and broken sobs came out of him.

He was shaking for the weeping. 

“I’m sorry.” Roman whispered while patting his shoulder. “I never want this.”

And Logic wanted to say he knew that. That he was aware that this was a fucking mess a damned misunderstood but he was crying so hard he just couldn’t articulate a word. 

“I’m sorry." 

But Prince knew he didn’t deserve forgiveness. 

"Morality, what’s going on? Why… why am I feeling like this?”

Marion was being the most reasonable at this point.

“Just… You know how hard it is to move on from people?”

Thomas looked at his moral-side confused, “Huh?”

“Yeah. Look. Remembered how hard it was for you when you broke with your last boyfriend, right?” Thomas nodded warily, “You remember how much it hurts to even look at him. How difficult it was to you to move.”

“Yeah. One of the hardest thing ever.”

“Imagine living with him and basically being the same person.”

“Oh… Ar-Are you and Logan?”

“Oh no… We didn’t even know Ann and Roman were dating.”

“Well, shit.” And Marion was so tired he didn’t even correct the language of Thomas. “We have to do something.”

“Oh. Wow. How did that never occurred to me?” He glared. 

Thomas chuckled, “Sarcasm is not good on you.”

“I know.”

Anxiety shut himself. Figuratively and literally. When Morality finally manage to break the door, he found his kid in there.

Hugging himself as a little ball in the corner of his room.

“Anxi…ety. Anxiety.” He shushed, approaching to the figure as carefully as he could. 

“Go away.” His voice sounded hoarse and it was almost a whisper.

He was getting closer, and closer. “I can’t do that kiddo…”

“Leave me alone! Just like everyone! Leave me! Go away! I don’t need you…” He shouted and Morality hugged him.

Anxiety punched him a few a time, but he still hugged. Anxiety screamed horrible things and Morality still hugged him hard.

Until Anxiety melted in the hug and sobbed.

“Why? I-I’m sorry. I am mess.”

“You’re not.”

“Then why did he leave me?” He asked angrily and Marion felt how he was shaking. He put a hand on Anxiety’s head, caressing his hair. 

Morality knew. He knew everything, he was a dad after all, but he just hugged Anxiety until he felt asleep.

“Okay.” Thomas stood up from the table, where his logical and Moral side were siting. “Basically, Roman broke up with him… because he thought it was a good an idea?”

Logic sighed, “Look, I don’t understand his logic either. I. I’m basically the brain here.” Morality laugh quietly not knowing what stressed Logic more, the whole fucked-up situation or the fact that he didn’t get it.

“They just need to talk it.” Morality grabbed Thomas’s hand and squeeze it, “We all are hurting.”

“Yeah, no kidding.”

Prince was having more fights lately. He started fights with everyone. He snapped at Logan. He punched Morality. He punched himself.

“Just. Look Logan, this is me coping.”

“Roman. Punching a wall and breaking for knuckles is not a healthy way of coping with this.”

Roman smirked, “Right now, I don’t even care.”

Anxiety was sitting on the table, “Dad. I told you I don’t want to eat.” He whispered.

“I’m not asking you. You haven’t eaten in almost four weeks. You need to eat. Thomas, need you.”

“That’s bullshit.”

He jumped from the table and started walking towards his room. 

“Roman. Just tell him. Talk to him.”

“Logan. Shut up. This is not of your business.”

He stood up from the floor of the bathroom and started walking towards his room.

Seeing Roman was the most difficult thing ever.

Seeing Ann was the most hurtful thing ever.

They’ve been successfully ignoring each other, mainly because Anxiety never left his room and Roman was fighting dragons and evil witches all the time.

So, when their paths crossed the collective gasp and the tears was a surprise to no one.

“I’m sorry I hurt you…” Roman was the first thing that left his mouth. 

Anxiety was doing his best to hold his tears, he pinched his wrist, knowing physical pain is something he can control. That relax him. He tried to pushed Prince to his side and just go and lock in his room.

Logan was now besides Morality, squeezing his hand and holding him in his place.

“I don’t care.” Anxiety whispered, “and you shouldn’t care. I’m used to being alone…”

“You shouldn’t…” 

“You left…”

And he closed the door of his room.

Thomas knew what was happening. He summoned all his sides. 

“Look… please… I’m pleading you… Just talk… feeling like this is hurtful…”

“It is, isn’t it?” Anxiety asked rudely, “Look Thomas, this is my fault.”

“No, it’s not.” Morality add quickly.

“For fuck sake!” Thomas shouted, and all the sides were shook by this. Thomas rarely cursed, let alone by shouting them. “Prince, Anxiety just fucking talk to each other.”

That night, Prince explained himself.

Anxiety understood.

“You know… Things can’t go back as the way they used to be…” Anxiety said after a long silent.

“I know.” He grabbed his hand and Anxiety tried his best not to flinched back. “I’m sorry I misunderstand the way you act. I feel I was hurting you.”

“You could’ve asked. You hurt me more by break up with me without any explanation. You know what I embody. You knew I would overthink everything and yet-”

“I know. I’m sorry…”

Anxiety sighed but a little smile was in his face. 

“We can’t go back to what it used to be…” Anxiety start again.

“But we can try again.” Prince finished the line.

And it would take a while for Ann to trust Roman again. It would take time for them to kissed again, to hugged again, to be a real couple again.

But they were willing to try.

That night Thomas didn’t have nightmares and he knew everything would be just fine.

endç

I’ve been feeling like Thomas in this fic, so MAYBE I was venting out xD. I was planning on giving a sad ending but right now I just can’t. Thanks for reading. Hope you enjoy it because i hate it xD

[joannalannister]

Sorry if you answered this before, but how and why do you think the incest started between Jaime and Cersei?

Hi! Wow, I wrote way too much for this. I think first a timeline and some text will be useful before we get started.

266 - Jaime and Cersei are born at Casterly Rock

272 - Jaime and Cersei are taken to KL for Aerys’s Anniversary Tourney, though Cersei does not see Rhaegar there. “When she was just a little girl, her father had promised her that she would marry Rhaegar. She could not have been more than six or seven.” (This art by @bidonica​ is my favorite thing.)

273 - Jaime and Cersei are seven. They are discovered by Joanna’s maid. Joanna dies soon after. After the Martells arrive, Cersei sexually abuses Tyrion by twisting his penis; she physically abuses her baby brother on more than one occasion. 

276 - Jaime and Cersei are 10. Tywin hosts a tourney. Maggy the Frog tells her prophecy. Cersei sees Rhaegar for the first time. Aerys refuses the Cersei/Rhaegar betrothal and he refuses Jaime as Rhaegar’s squire.

277 - At eleven, Jaime is sent to squire for Lord Sumner Crakehall. 

278 - Tywin brings Cersei to court. She is 12. Cersei wept and Jaime raged. 

279 - Jaime wins a squire’s melee, though where this melee took place is unclear. Possibly at the tourney held at Storm’s End?

279 or 280 - Tywin visits Casterly Rock with Cersei. Jaime visits home too. The twins are 13 or 14. Jaime dares Cersei to kiss Tyrion, which she does. Cersei laughs at Tyrion’s tumbling, until Tywin puts a stop to it. 

281 - Jaime wins his spurs against the Kingswood Brotherhood. Jaime and Cersei are known to have slept together at Eel Alley. They are 15.

The text tells us about Jaime and Cersei’s childhood:

Your brother?“ Ned said. “Or your lover?”

“Both.” She did not flinch from the truth. “Since we were children together.” (Eddard, AGOT)

He could never bear to be long apart from his twin. Even as children, they would creep into each other’s beds and sleep with their arms entwined. Even in the womb. Long before his sister’s flowering or the advent of his own manhood, they had seen mares and stallions in the fields and dogs and bitches in the kennels and played at doing the same. Once their mother’s maid had caught them at it … he did not recall just what they had been doing, but whatever it was had horrified Lady Joanna. She’d sent the maid away, moved Jaime’s bedchamber to the other side of Casterly Rock, set a guard outside Cersei’s, and told them that they must never do that again or she would have no choice but to tell their lord father. They need not have feared, though. It was not long after that she died birthing Tyrion [in 273AC]. Jaime barely remembered what his mother had looked like. (Jaime, ASOS)

“I can’t remember when we first began to kiss. It was innocent at first. Until it wasn’t.” (Jaime, AFFC)

From the official WOIAF app, for Cersei Lannister:

As children, Jaime and Cersei look so similar that occasionally Cersei dons her brother’s clothing and takes lessons from the Maser-at-Arms in his stead, without anyone realizing. The two are extremely close–to the point that, even as children, they began to play at being lovers.

What I conclude from the above quotes is that Jaime and Cersei have always had a very close and intimate relationship, and it’s always been very physical. I don’t think that Jaime and Cersei lost their virginity at seven years old – they only “played at being lovers” – but they were interested in sex even at such a young age, and they wanted to imitate it, as much as their limited understanding would allow at seven. Though note that Cersei considers Jaime to have been her lover “since we were children together.”

The text doesn’t tell us exactly what Joanna’s maid caught Jaime and Cersei doing, but it was something inappropriate enough that Joanna felt it necessary to send the maid away to keep it secret. Joanna also moved Jaime’s bedroom to the other side of the Rock (a distance perhaps as great as seven leagues – basically from one side of a modern major city to another side) and she placed a guard outside Cersei’s door as a precaution. Gossip and rumors spread easily throughout Casterly Rock (see: Gregor’s crimes) and it’s hard for me to believe that Jaime’s new bedroom and the guard outside Cersei’s door occasioned no whispered comment from servants and other Lannisters. Joanna obviously felt that whatever happened between Jaime and Cersei was bad enough that it was worth the gossip. I don’t think that should be easily dismissed in a family that is so obsessed with reputation. 

Also note that Joanna wanted to send one of her children to be fostered with the unnamed princess of Dorne, even though everyone agreed that Tywin would object to such a plan and Joanna would have needed to persuade him. 

So basically Joanna wanted to put a continent between Jaime and Cersei, even against Tywin’s wishes. Even if you think Joanna overreacted, I don’t think Joanna’s actions and plans are the type of reaction that happens when your kids are just playing maester. (And Lannister maesters do some weird shit themselves ok.) And Joanna seems to have been ok with Jaime and Cersei "creep[ing] into each other’s beds and sleep[ing] with their arms entwined” or at least we aren’t told that she objected to it. (And btw a lot of Westerosi people sleep naked, including Lannisters like Tyrion.)

Again, I don’t think Jaime and Cersei were having penis-in-vagina sex at seven years old, but I think they were doing something … Extreme. I mean … this is the family of 77 course feasts and cloth-of-gold capes that are probably worth kingdoms. Extreme is their middle name, with Tywin’s line the most Extreme of all. I mean, we’re talking specifically about two people that, the moment they were reunited, fucked on the altar of the sept next to the body of their dead son. And we’re talking about Cersei, who, as a little girl, stuck her hand in a lion’s cage and taunted a witch and murdered her friend. Frankly, if Jaime and Cersei weren’t doing something Extreme together at seven years old, I’m gonna be Extremely disappointed in GRRM. I’ll save my Extremely Specific Headcanons about what happened between the twins when they were seven for another day, but I personally consider the events of 273 to be the forerunner of Jaime and Cersei’s sexual relationship.

I think an important thing to consider is that Cersei was already being sexualized in 272 or 273, when she was only “six or seven,” when Tywin promised her that she would be Rhaegar’s wife. Westeros is an extremely patriarchal society, and Cersei was being raised to think of herself as a man’s sexual possession. She even drew pictures of herself “with her arms wrapped tight about [Rhaegar’s] chest”. And if you wanna get Freudian, in her drawing, she was riding on Rhaegar’s dragon … isn’t my blog great, friends?

And so here you have baby Cersei being raised “to smile and sing and please”. “I was to be sold to some stranger like a horse, to be ridden whenever my new owner liked, beaten whenever he liked, and cast aside in time for a younger filly.” 

Even as a child, I think Cersei understands that she must please Rhaegar, and be a good wife to him. Even now, even years and years and years later, Cersei thinks of how she would never have given Rhaegar cause to stray from her bed, how she would have given him sons, how she would have pleased him as his queen: 

“If she had only married Rhaegar as the gods intended, he would never have looked twice at the wolf girl. Rhaegar would be our king today and I would be his queen, the mother of his sons. She had never forgiven Robert for killing him.”

Cersei thinks to herself how there was no “better man” than Rhaegar. And this is Tywin’s daughter we’re talking about. The Lannister children have defined themselves as Tywin’s children, and that’s shaped so much about all of them, but it’s really fucked Cersei up, arguably even more than her brothers. (We debate about whether Tyrion or Jaime will live, whether they will do heroic things in future books, etc; we’re all pretty certain Cersei will die, and will die a villain, given her strict adherence to Tywin’s philosophies. Tywin fucked Cersei up beyond hope.)  “Lord Tywin’s daughter was the first through the flap”. Cersei has lived her whole life trying not to disappoint her father, to be the boldest, the bravest, the most beautiful, the best at everything. 

How do you get to be the best? Why, you practice, of course. 

Cersei is told at “six or seven” that she will be Rhaegar’s wife, and then (covertly, without Jaime understanding the reasons) Cersei ~researched~ how it was done by observing “mares and stallions in the fields and dogs and bitches in the kennels” and then at seven she “began to play at being lovers” with Jaime. (I believe Cersei initiated this “play”.) I think this is something very sad, very tragic. 

(Plus, I’m very fond of the idea that Tywin has contributed to All The Problems by upholding Westerosi patriarchy and sexualizing a six year old girl and shoving her into the idea of marriage.)

I obviously think there’s a lot more to Jaime and Cersei’s relationship, since I ship it like FedEx (in a gouge-your-eyes-out-no-happy-endings-allowed sort of way), but that’s how I think the relationship first got … real inappropriate. 

But what are some other reasons why Jaime and Cersei would embark on an incestuous relationship?

Well, like I said, they were twins, so that immediately establishes a close bond between the two of them that excludes everyone else (”everyone who isn’t us is an enemy”). I quote @inkandcayenne‘s beautiful fic like it’s canon (it is canon to me) but like

There was a time before he began to think of them as separate.  In the sept she bends her head to hear his whispered joke and locks of Jaime’s hair fall over her slender neck, and when their hands entwine you cannot tell whose fingers are whose.  They move in tandem, with a grace Tyrion can only imagine; at breakfast he slides a pot of jam toward her, she a pitcher of milk toward him, without either having to ask.  He first learns to say their names as one, holding his arms out when they walk past his crib: up, Jaimencersei, up.  Only one of them ever stops to pick him up, but he expects that.  They are two halves of the same whole, one cruel and one kind, the way the moon has bright and dark faces.  

The world is divided into the twins and everyone else, and everyone else must not know of it: the whispers and creakings he hears coming from her room, their flushed faces, a tangle of limbs and golden hair happened upon in a dark corridor, though it’s years before he has a word for what he sees.  Nothing could seem more natural to him, yet he knows it’s a secret without knowing what a secret is.  Jaime brings him lemon drops and ruffles his hair: you mustn’t tell Father.  He wouldn’t even know how to describe what he saw.  

If you love something you must keep it secret.  It’s the first time he learns the lesson, but not the last.  [x]

Cersei and Jaime have a bond between each other, it makes them think of each other as “more than brother and sister. We are one person in two bodies.” Combine their identity as twins with Tywin’s philosophy that Lannisters are “worth more” and no one else is worthy of them (Robert killed the only person who Cersei thinks might have been a worthy husband), and add in the idea that the world is divided into Lannisters and enemies, and I think it’s clear Tywin really fucked them up, long before they actually started fucking. 

Also, you have to remember that Jaime and Cersei were dealing with the trauma of their mother’s death around this time, and I think they were dealing with it pretty much alone (except for, like, y’know, 777 servants). 

King’s Landing had never loved Lord Tywin. He never wanted love, though. "You cannot eat love, nor buy a horse with it, nor warm your halls on a cold night,” she heard him tell Jaime once, when her brother had been no older than Tommen [Tommen is eight or nine here].

Jaime was seven when Joanna died, and after her death Tywin is like, “Fuck love, what good is it?” I don’t think Tywin offered a lot of emotional comfort to Jaime and Cersei, and I think they grew more dependent on each other emotionally after Joanna’s death.

And then I think you have Jaime and Cersei’s relationship developing as a backlash against what Cersei feels is the injustice of patriarchal institutions. 

“at your birth, Jaime […] You and Cersei, pink and perfect, as alike as two peas in a pod … well, except between the legs.”

“When we were little, Jaime and I were so much alike that even our lord father could not tell us apart. Sometimes as a lark we would dress in each other’s clothes and spend a whole day each as the other. Yet even so, when Jaime was given his first sword, there was none for me. ‘What do I get?’ I remember asking. We were so much alike, I could never understand why they treated us so differently.” 

“She dreamt she sat the Iron Throne, high above them all.”

“Jaime’s lot was to be glory and power, while mine was birth and moonblood.”

“A pity Lord Tywin Lannister never had a son. I could have been the heir he wanted, but I lacked the cock.”

“When he is in me, I feel … whole.” The ghost of a smile flitted over her lips.

With Jaime, Cersei can be the person she always felt like she deserved to be. She can go hang out with her dad and have Tywin treat her as his heir (“even our lord father could not tell us apart”) and, per the WOIAF app, she could take up a sword and train with the CR Master-At-Arms, and she can pretend, at least for a day, that her destiny is “glory and power” and she can feel what it’s like to be Tywin’s “most beloved child” (WOIAF app) and to ask the question, “What do I get?” and not be left empty handed. 

And every other male in the world, everyone except Jaime, is going to see Cersei as someone less. What a torment for a Lannister – to be less. But it’s not like that with Jaime. Jaime sees Cersei as his twin, his mirror, his equal – “if I were a woman, I’d be Cersei.”  

Like, by AFFC, Jaime is the only person left in the world for Cersei, and she hates it. She hates that no one else will treat her with the respect she deserves, that Jaime is the only one who will recognize her as a full human being. (FFS, Cersei’s own uncle let her walk naked through the city streets while she was pelted with garbage. !!!!!!!!) 

And obviously the incest during Cersei’s marriage to Robert was meant to be revenge, because Robert was still obsessed with Lyanna, because Robert abused her, because Robert was a disappointment. idk, I like the idea that the incest evolved as a response to Cersei trying to conform to patriarchal institutions and eventually turned into Cersei’s way of saying “Fuck what patriarchy did to me and what it denied me.”

And I realize I’ve given a lot more reasons why Cersei benefits from an incestuous relationship than Jaime does, but this post pretty much says everything, how Jaime lives for Cersei. So “Why incest?” Because Cersei means so much to Jaime (unfortunately, a lot of that meaning that Jaime has ascribed to Cersei isn’t who she truly is)

I think Cersei gets more out of the relationship than Jaime, tho. and I think that’s on purpose, and I think that’s why in AFFC / ADWD you see Jaime doubting their relationship and they move away from each other. 

I think Jaime’s just … always loved his family, and in this case he loved his family a little too much. It was something natural for Jaime. Cersei was his best friend, he enjoyed her company (“He could never bear to be long apart from his twin”), they were twins, they thought of themselves as special. So by AFFC Jaime realizes he basically has no friends. 

And Jaime just … Jaime thought they were gods together, “I thought I was the Warrior and she the Maid” – who is a god to love, save another god? 

(Also “keeping the bloodlines pure” I SWEAR I’M STILL WORKING ON MY LANNISTER FASCISM ESSAY, JUST GIVE ME TIME)

(Cersei was extremely jealous of Jaime’s company as children, she didn’t want other girls to even think about taking him away from her, so I think Cersei just made a point of hanging out with Jaime.)

ok I could probably talk more about the “why” part of your question, but I’m gonna wrap this up with the “how” part right now. (If I had more time, I would make charts and diagrams and shit for this post, I love Jaime and Cersei so much.)

Like I said above, I think of the discovery by the maid in 273 as a stepping stone to Jaime and Cersei’s fullblown incestuous relationship. 

When Cersei and Jaime were fifteen years old:

“Is it a rock you want? Or me?”

He remembered that night [in 281AC] as if it were yesterday. They spent it in an old inn on Eel Alley, well away from watchful eyes. Cersei had come to him dressed as a simple serving wench, which somehow excited him all the more. Jaime had never seen her more passionate. Every time he went to sleep, she woke him again. By morning Casterly Rock seemed a small price to pay to be near her always. He gave his consent, and Cersei promised to do the rest. (Jaime, ASOS)

She smiled for him, so sweetly. “Do you remember the first time I came to you like this? It was some dismal inn off Weasel Alley, and I put on servant’s garb to get past Father’s guards.”

“I remember. It was Eel Alley.” She wants something of me. “Why are you here, at this hour? What would you have of me?” (Jaime, AFFC)

I don’t think this time on Eel Alley is the first time Jaime and Cersei had sex. It’s the first time Cersei dressed up like a peasant (first costumed sex!! first roleplay!! so proud of my babies!!) (but not the last time?) but “Jaime had never seen her more passionate” so he had seen her passionate before? Cersei seems like she knows what she’s doing here. 

So I would put the beginning of their sexual relationship before this, although this is the first textual example we have. 

Like I said earlier, Tywin sexualized Cersei at a very young age, and she was already at age 7 treating sex acts like a weapon (ie twisting Tyrion’s penis).

While for Jaime … here’s a very short list of Westerosi men and the ages at which they lost their virginity. (I put Jaime with a question mark, cuz the above is what we have documented.) I think I would put Jaime in the 13 or 14 age group, during the time when Jaime is a squire and he would be facing pressure to perform the ~~“rituals of masculinity”~~ to lose his virginity. 

We know that Jaime visited Cersei at Casterly Rock when he was 13 or 14. Maybe Cersei first started menstruating at 11 or 12, and they had sex at 13. I guess one of them secretly crept into the other’s room, like they usually do? 

I can see them doing a lot of experimentation /  mutual masturbation that just eventually evolves into sex.

I hope that answers your questions?

…I have way too many opinions about Lannister sex lives. 

[sheikah]

A Hunger Like No Other

I wrote this Vampire Knight fic back in 2010 when the manga wasn’t quite finished, but the anime had just ended. Based on the anime ending and where the manga was going, I was very frustrated at a lack of meaningful closure for Zero and Yuki and decided to rectify that. Then it turned into a lemon. (A pretty graphically NSFW lemon btw.) In light of the resurgence of Zeki fans everywhere because of Hino’s latest work, I decided to post this to tumblr for the first time in case anyone else would like a smutty trip down memory lane. This is a very long, fluffy one shot lemon that features my headcanon of the post-Rido reunion of Yuki and Zero after that long year apart. Enjoy! FF.net | AO3

A lot could happen in a year. The delicate fluctuations of seasons, the glorious beginning of new lives, the violent endings of others. No one knows the weight a year’s time can carry better than Yuki Kuran, for even the name of Kuran is a new addition to her life this year.

More than anything, Yuki wishes she could turn back the clocks a year, to a time when her name was Yuki Cross and she was nothing more than a compassionate, human high school student. But the previous year had seen the abrupt end of Yuki’s youth, her innocence, and her blissful ignorance.

The night that Yuki awakened as a vampire was also the night in which her memories were returned to her at last, when she discovered that she was a proud pureblood daughter of the Kuran line. After her traumatic experiences during the near-destruction of Cross Academy, Yuki knows she is no longer a child. She is a woman, and a lethal weapon who does not even truly know the extent of her own pureblood powers. She doesn’t really care to know.

It’s midmorning on a day like any other when finds herself standing quietly in the living room of the home that Kaname has secured for her secret dwelling. Until the cultural climate of the outside world is safer for the vampire community, she’s confined to the house, and she feels like little more than a prisoner. She is grateful to Kaname for taking her safety so seriously, but also tired of being treated like a child. 

Kaname stole any childishness from her long ago, and she wants nothing more than to be treated with the respect that her age and lineage should command. She knows that although she was not the most experienced fighter, there are few left in this world who can pose as a threat to her now; but Kaname still insists on keeping her under lock and key and exerting his influence over all of her doings.

When Yuki thinks of things that can threaten her, her mind unwillingly strays to the one person that she tries her hardest not to think about. Zero. Sweet, tragic, deadly Zero. The thing that he became on that roof top during the fight with Rido was nothing Yuki wanted to face again, but in her heart she knows that her most beloved childhood friend still remains beneath the stormy surface.

It is painful to reflect on their final encounter, their kiss that had seemed to be filled with more hatred than love. Why do I think of this so often? Yuki wonders, scolding herself sadly. The past can never be rewritten now.

She is brought forth from her musings by a cold hand sliding along her neck.

“Kaname-sama,” she breathes in mild surprise.

“Yuki, please just call me Kaname. We are equals now, and hardly strangers to one another, in mind or body,” he replies smoothly. A deep blush steals its way across Yuki’s cheeks as the meaning of his retort strikes her. Of course they aren’t strangers. They are like family, they’re lovers, but sadly Yuki has begun to suspect that her lust for Kaname’s blood is far greater than her lust for his body. Her reddening cheeks draw Kaname’s attention to her own blood, and she feels his fangs graze over her neck, politely requesting entrance.

“Go on,” Yuki says dryly. “It’s been days since you’ve fed.” Without hesitation Kaname sinks his fangs hungrily into her neck. The pain is distant to her now. She focuses on the steady sound of her breath and the firm grip of Kaname’s hands which squeeze her shoulders forcefully. When she tires of the suction she breaks free of him easily enough, grabbing onto his arm and spinning around to face him.

She loathes herself for what she wants next. Yuki has not come to accept fully her new set of vampire needs, but nonetheless they will be satisfied. Kaname knows her desires well and lifts the sleeve of his tailored black silk shirt, offering her his wrist. She takes his hand, studying his face for moment before feeding; she sees the affection written in his eyes, a trickle of her blood lingering on his chin. He is so good to me, she remarks to herself sadly before delicately sinking her fangs into the throbbing vein of Kaname’s wrist. So why don’t I love him anymore?

The exchange of blood is an intimate act. For Yuki it feels more personal than sex, and in her current state of confusion regarding Kaname, drinking his blood feels almost like a cruel exploitation. Kaname’s blood is spiked with his regard for her, almost possessive in its intensity. But she doesn’t reciprocate those feelings. Yuki can’t help but wonder if Kaname can sense her own doubts when he feeds on her. She hopes not. The thought makes her nervous.

Once they’ve fed, Kaname had attempts to bring Yuki to bed, but she lamely excuses herself to her parlor to read. She hates that she doesn’t want to make love to him anymore, but the fact remains that something is missing between them. Yuki feels nothing while wrapped in his strong embrace. Nothing when his lips hold hers, nothing when his commanding voice tells her that he loves her.

I just need a break, Yuki decides resolutely. I need to take a walk, to get out of this smothering closeness. So she resolves to leave. The next time that Kaname departs to speak to the Hunter Society, or what remains of the council, or with Aido, or wherever the hell he goes all day, she will sneak out, disobeying his will for the first time in her memory.

Her chance comes sooner than expected, for she hears the front door slam shut a few short hours after their rendezvous. She knows that Kaname is gone when his scent has left the house. Yuki stands from her easy chair in the parlor and ventures back into the living room, looking out the front window as Kaname disappears down the front drive in a sweep of his long, dark travelling coat.

When he’s out of sight, she cautiously opens the front door and steps into the chill autumn afternoon. Autumn, Cross Academy has just begun a new semester, Yuki recalls sadly. Clutching her arms tightly around her slight frame, she realizes that she didn’t even bother to don a coat before venturing out. But it’s no matter; she feels free, happy, liberated. Breathing in the fresh air, her eyes well up with joyous tears. This is exactly what she needs.

Yuki sets out down the empty lane. The house Kaname chose is not in a neighborhood but in a small forest outside of town. Her leather boots thud lightly on the dirt path as she makes her way quickly in the direction that she hopes will lead her to town. Already she can smell the city filth, along with cooking food, human blood. When she finally emerges from the dense trees, Yuki finds the urban center looming ahead. Although she hasn’t been out in some time, she isn’t afraid or nervous at all—only excited and brimming with anticipation. It has been too long since she has had a day to herself that didn’t follow Kaname’s strict itineraries.

She walks along the city streets, window shopping and watching the people for near an hour. She gets a few strange looks along the way, and attributes it to her extremely long, rather unkempt hair, and the fact that there is probably blood on the collar of her grey blouse. I must make quite a sight, she thinks with a chuckle, catching her reflection in a well-polished shop window. Her waist-length chestnut hair still retains its healthy sheen and her pale skin is smooth and unblemished. Her brown eyes glow with the light of new possibility, but they are ringed by dark circles from a lack of restful sleep, and her hair is tousled and wavy. Just as she expected, there is blood on her collar and even on her neck itself. She wipes at her skin hastily before moving on. It won’t do to arouse too much suspicion in the human citizens.

Rounding a corner, Yuki proceeds into an alley that she thinks will lead to an iced cream shop she used to go to with Zero when they were students together. The alley is dark, shaded by overhanging tall buildings on either side, and deserted. Just as she considers taking a more public and likely safer path, she is suddenly startled by strong arms grabbing her and a hand flying over her mouth to cover her screams. Though she fights against her unseen attacker, their grip is strong and Yuki is pulled out of the alley and into a dark apartment.

When the door shuts behind her, she frantically tries to regain her senses and forcefully pushes herself out of her attacker’s grasp. A little too forcefully, for she staggers backwards and falls to the floor before a dark shape. Paralyzed with fear, Yuki stares up through the murky darkness of the windowless room, trying to make out the tall figure standing a few feet in front of her. Whoever it is, they make no move to harm her.

When Yuki’s eyes finally adjust, her heart skips a beat, her breath catching in her chest. No, she thinks frantically, her eyes filling with tears, a sob welling in her throat already. Silver hair, falling carelessly across lavender grey eyes, a dark tattoo inked onto a scarred neck, the glint of a piercing on the ear, and the strong stature of a familiar boy—no, a man.

“Zero!” Yuki cries, rushing to her feet and flinging herself at the man before her. His last promise to her is ringing in her ears but she pushes it away when, to her surprise, Zero relaxes his stiff stance and returns her hug, his long arms enveloping her in comforting and familiar warmth. The past year of no contact and the ominous threat he made at their last meeting melt away into irrelevance. Yuki can tell by the gentleness of the eyes she knows better than any others that Zero would not hurt her. Not now, not ever.

“Yuki,” he responds simply, his voice a choked whisper. Her name on his lips is almost more than she can bear, something she never dared to hope for again. In spite of herself she gives way to sobs of sadness at their long separation and relief at the sight of him alive and whole. Zero merely strokes her hair in silence, trying to calm her.

“What are you doing here?” he asks at last. “It’s dangerous for you to be out. I thought that he made that clear to you.” Zero spits out the pronoun as if it’s something filthy and obscene. It’s obvious that his disdain for Kaname hasn’t diminished, but Yuki doesn’t blame him.

"I felt like a prisoner,” she explains through her tears. “I needed to see outdoors, to see people.”

“Well. You were obviously not well prepared for an attack,” Zero points out stubbornly. “I got you here effortlessly.”

“Where is here?” Yuuki asks in confusion, looking around the modest apartment. It features a living room that apparently doubles as a bedroom; a small bed is situated in the corner next to a table with two chairs. A kitchenette and a small bathroom is visible on the other side of the room through the dark. The whole place is simple and unadorned. Very fitting for a pragmatist like Zero, she muses.

“My home, for now. The Chairman gave it to me, because I cannot take living at the Academy anymore. You seem to be having a lot less trouble dealing with the past than me, though. Cozily situated in your new country home with Kuran.” Zero’s answer is cold and Yuki finds herself recoiling from him involuntarily.

She’d wished for this reunion every day for a year, but would their differences divide them again after all this time? No, I won’t let that happen, Yuki says to herself firmly. Looking up at Zero indignantly, she finds she can’t be angry. Not really.

She misses him too much. She misses happily touring the halls of Cross Academy by night with him, coaxing the smitten day class girls back to their dorms. She misses accidentally walking in on him getting ready in the headmaster’s bathroom, misses late nights doing math together, taking care of each other the way best friends should. She loved Zero so much then, it seems insane to her now to let the horrific events that had torn them apart continue to drive a wedge between them. “I’m sorry,” she says simply.

“I know.”

"But I… I’m a vampire. A pureblood vampire, aren’t you going to kill me?” Yuki asks in wonder, looking up into Zero’s beautiful, unreadable eyes.

“No, Yuki,” Zero replies in a barely audible whisper. “I know what I said, but I could never do that. All I’ve ever tried to do is keep you safe. It would kill me to cause you harm.”

She’s unsure how to respond, having wanted nothing more dearly than to hear these words from Zero; it almost feels too good to be true. The silence is dragging on for an uncomfortable span but Yuki finds herself unable to break it.

Mercifully, Zero speaks instead. “Surely you know that. You have to realize by now that everything I’ve done, it’s been for you. Isn’t it obvious that all this time I’ve lo—"  

Yuki quickly silences Zero with a finger to his lips. She can’t stand to hear those sentiments now. Not when so much fear and doubt hangs between them. Not when she doesn’t know what the next moment, much less the next day holds for them.

Zero solemnly assents, lifting his hand to hers and lacing their fingers together. He places a gentle kiss against the back of her hand in a wordless endearment. Yuki can feel her heart pounding from nerves, but Zero’s proximity isn’t helping matters much. All of the chemistry they’d had before was evidently still there and the very air between them feels like its vibrating with tension.

She leans in closer, tilting her head to the side, pulling her hair out of the way and exposing her neck to him. She can sense his thirst, it’s palpable, tormenting him as it always has. “Drink,” she says, standing on the tips of her toes to whisper softly into his ear. “Like old times.”

At first, Zero is hesitant, she can tell that he isn’t sure what to do next, but she won’t be deterred. There’s a yearning inside her—perhaps it’s always been there—to give herself to the tortured man who meant so many things to her. She wraps her arms around his waist, pressing her body against him firmly. The scent of his own blood assails her nostrils, mingling with the familiar fragrance of his hair, a hint of cologne perhaps. It all works together to ignite her own appetites, but they can wait.

Zero’s hesitance evaporates under her assertive touch, and she feels his calloused, battle-worn hands at her neck just before he digs into her throat with his fangs, abandoning formalities as if no time has passed at all. It’s like they’re back at school, stealing away into dark corners so that she can satisfy his thirst. She supposes that some small part of her has always enjoyed it, even when she was human. Zero’s rough handling has always made her feel desirable, made whatever was between them seem primal and inevitable, so very different from the easy manners of Kaname.

Zero lets out a strangled moan as her blood rushes past his lips. His grip on her is so tight that it’s almost uncomfortable, but she’s limp in his arms, eyes closed, relishing the sensation of his hot mouth on her skin. What is this? Yuki wonders as her pulse pounds harder in her ears. What am I doing? If Kaname finds out… She’s unwilling to even finish the thought. His rage would be beyond measure. She falters at that, pulling away from Zero suddenly, peering up at him with an apology in her eyes.

“You were thinking of him,” Zero says knowingly. “I can taste it.”

“I-I’m sorry,” Yuki stammers, “I snuck out… I’m afraid of him finding me, especially here.”

“You’re free to go at any time, Yuki,” he reminds her, looking away dejectedly. “You know that.”

Yuki stares at Zero, at his powerful frame that’s been reduced to a miserable shell of a man merely by her presence. He really does still love me, so what do I feel for him?

Stepping back up to Zero, Yuki pushes him up against the wall of the apartment. “My turn,” she announces gravely, pushing his high-collared coat off of his shoulders for better access to his throat. Zero is wide-eyed, astonished that she’s staying, that she wants to drink from him. She grabs his broad shoulders, drawing him closer, standing up on her toes again to reach him. When she bites, just beside his familiar tattoo, the hot liquid hits her mouth with startling force. Zero’s blood is thick, so warm, so satisfying. She sucks harder, crushing him to her as the crimson liquid flows into her. She can taste Zero’s passion in his blood, his love for her, his thirst for her own blood, and his surprisingly heated lust.

Yuki is caught off guard by the intensity of it, by the depth and sincerity and Zero’s emotions as they come in through her parted lips. His love is as strong as ever—it’s all so clear. Zero’s been her devoted admirer from the first, and the realization has her reeling.

Zero brings her back down to earth with the pressure of his own embrace, grabbing her slender waist and lifting her off the ground to give her lacking height better access to his neck. She wraps her legs around him and breaks her face away to take a breath. Her chest is heaving, breaths raspy and uneven.

Her eyes meet Zero’s as his blood runs off her lips and drips onto his chest. Yuki leans down to lick it off, tasting the salty sweat of his skin. 

“Yuki,” he says in a shaky whisper. His eyes drop to her lips in an unconscious signal, and he presses his mouth to hers with a heated kiss.

There’s no time to be shocked; Yuki knows in the back of her mind that this is exactly what she wanted to happen, and now is the time to react. She kisses him back in earnest, tasting her own blood on his lips. Zero’s slick tongue winds its way into her mouth and involuntarily Yuki groans with longing. He bites at her lower lip in response and she exhales sharply in pain, but in truth it only stokes her desire further.

Hurriedly she begins to unbutton Zero’s shirt, but he sets her back on the ground, bracing himself with a hand on each of her shoulders, pushing her back.

“Yuki, what are we doing?” he asks, his hands trembling, sweat dampening his shirt.

“Something we should have done a long time ago,” she answers seriously. 

A tiny voice protests in the back of her mind, reminding her that this is wrong, that Kaname will be hurt, betrayed. But what she has with Zero is something she and Kaname never quite managed to find. She needs Zero because he needs her. She’s always known, really. It’s been clear in each brush of his hand on hers, in every lingering look of his captivating eyes. Some part of her has always known that Zero loves her fiercely, is addicted to her very essence.

Kaname loves her too, it’s true. But at times his love for her feels almost fatherly. The spark is gone.

For once in her life, Yuki does not want to do what is expected of her. She wants to do what feels right, something reckless, something heartbreaking in its beauty. Being with Zero is something she has unconsciously yearned for for what must have been years, and she is finally going to answer her heart.

But despite her resolve, Yuki finds that now that the opportunity is here, she feels shy. She’s had sex with Kaname before, but it has always been careful, calculated, missionary position. It didn’t hold a candle to the unbridled passion she feels now with  Zero. She isn’t sure where to go from here.

Yuki looks up at Zero’s now exposed chest, at his milky vampire skin, so smooth as it ripples over a warrior’s muscles. There’s a deep-seated need within her that has nothing to do with blood, and she suspects that Zero feels it too. But she also senses that he is equally shy; after all, Zero has loved her since childhood and here they are now in such a compromising position. She decides to make the first move.

Summoning her courage, Yuki steps backward until she can feel the bed behind her knees. She sits and then lies down, motioning Zero toward her with one finger. He’s frozen for a moment before walking over to join her on the bed. He climbs up, the sheets rustling under his weight as he positions himself over her, looking down at her with his characteristically grim face, but behind that expression Yuki can see the yearning in his eyes.

Leaning in, he kisses her again, taking his time and slowly moving from her mouth to her jaw line, her ear, her neck, her throat. He unbuttons her shirt and slides the blouse from her shoulders as he kisses down her chest, stopping between her breasts. It’s the most assertive Zero’s ever been, and the image of him straddling her body has Yuki overwhelmed by her need for him.

Suddenly all of their clothing seems to her an absurd barrier between her flesh and his, and she reaches behind her back and unclasps her bra herself. Zero smirks in amusement at her urgency as she tosses the bra aside, leaving her nude from the waist up under his scrutiny.

Zero pauses then, drinking in the sight of her but seeming a little uncertain. Yuki grasps his hand, guiding his palm to her chest encouragingly. He takes her cue enthusiastically, moving to massage her breasts with both hands, his deft fingers working her nipples and sending shivers down her spine. A slow moan of approval escapes her lips and she notices Zero blush at her reaction. She realizes this could be his first time with any of this. After all, he’s been devoted to her for as long as she can remember, never straying. But even if Zero is inexperienced, his hands feel knowing and right on her body and she can’t imagine a more loving touch than his.

Yuki reaches up a hand and knots it in his smooth silver hair, pulling his face down to her chest to signal what she wants next. Zero’s eyes flick up to hers in a heated glance before he obediently sets to licking  and sucking her nipples. His sharp fangs hurt a little but she finds that she likes it. “It feels so good, Zero,” she murmurs, her breaths coming fast and hard.

He grunts in reply, his aggressive nature bubbling to the surface. Desire replacing his apprehension, he bites her gently, earning him a squeal of delight from Yuki. Without needing to be prompted he’s kissing down her belly and pulling her skirt insistently off.

Yuki kicks off her boots and moves to unclasp Zero’s belt but he grabs both her hands and holds them still. “Let me take care of you,” he says forcefully. Intrigued, Yuki lies back and raises her hips to assist as Zero removes the last troublesome boundary: her lace panties.

He simply stares for a moment at Yuki’s womanhood, appreciating her flawless pink folds, glistening with arousal for him. He runs a shaky hand between her legs and Yuki gasps when his fingers graze her most sensitive spot. “Here?” he asks hesitantly, touching the area again.  Somehow she finds the focus to nod her head and Zero rubs the spot gently with this thumb, watching her face intently.

The friction is exquisite and after only a moment she’s panting and thrashing under his attention, her insides coiling with tension as she approaches climax. Sensing this, Zero stops for a moment and strokes his hands over her snowy thighs, leaning up to kiss her waiting lips.

“Don’t tease me,” she pleads desperately, breaking away from their kiss and entreating him with her eyes.

 "Alright,“ he says with a smug smile, clearly pleased to hear her begging.

He resumes the work of his thumb, tracing small circles against her swollen flesh before carefully inserting two long fingers into her opening, eliciting a small whimper of surprise from Yuki. He sets a swift rhythm then, pushing inside her roughly. It’s not long before she’s close again and Zero pulls his hand away, scooting down the bed and situating himself between her knees. “Please don’t stop,” she asks him again in a small, helpless voice.

Zero chuckles at her eagerness. “You’re greedy.” She simply nods in agreement as he presses his mouth to her skin, kissing up her thighs, but stopping just short of her sex. She feels a sharp jab as he sinks his teeth into the flesh on her inner thigh and drinks from her, raising his eyes to meet hers as his lips redden again with her blood. The pain under these circumstances is a heady pleasure and Yuki grips the bed sheets furiously. 

When he’s had his fill Zero retracts his fangs carefully and trails his tongue up to finally kiss her there softly. Instinctively she arches her back in response and he reaches out with one hand to steady her before deepening his kiss and pressing his tongue in past her folds. "You taste even better than your blood,” he murmurs against her with a devilish grin. “I think I want some more.” Yuki spreads her legs wider to allow Zero better access and he licks up the entire length of her, pausing to close his lips over the sweetest spot. He sucks gently on the sensitive nub and then slides his fingers inside her again.

The feel of his supple lips and strong hand is deliciously exhilarating and Yuki gropes her hands on the back of his head, pulling his face against her hungrily. Zero gives in to her body’s demands, cherishing her sharp responses to his every move. He flicks at her hard with his tongue, all the while crooking his fingers inside her to brush at the deepest part of her core with every push of his hand. “Mmm,” Yuuki manages, writhing on the bed in ecstacy as she clinches around his fingers, her body shuddering into orgasm at last.

Zero withdraws his hand and delicately licks her clean even as she flinches away, hyper-sensitive in the wake of her release. “Was that okay?” he asks, his voice soft.

“’Okay?!’” Yuki is incredulous, giggling. “Zero, that was … “

She shakes her head, unable to find the words, choosing action instead. Sitting up shakily, Yuki removes his belt and unbuttons his pants, pushing them down his hips along with his boxers until he assists her and sits back to pull them off entirely. She fails to stifle a gasp at the sheer size of Zero’s erection.

Without thinking, Yuki gets on her hands and knees, bending down to take him into her mouth. His breath hitches with at the sensation and his fingers find their way into Yuki’s wild hair as she works, sucking him vigorously, desperate to show him the same acute pleasure he’d given her. But when she sits up to take a breath, Zero grabs her before she can return to her task. Effortlessly lifting her up, he lays her back on the bed and straddles her waist.

Yuki understands instinctively and is eager to finally feel him inside her, but at the last moment Zero hesitates. "Are you sure this is what you want, Yuki?” He asks, averting his gaze. 

She’s seen this look before. He’s always so uncertain when it comes to her, and she knows it’s her fault. She hasn’t exactly been straightforward with him over the years, and she feels a little guilty now, seeing him so vulnerable. “I love you,” he goes on, his voice thick with emotion. “I know you don’t want to hear it but I do, and if you still prefer Kuran I don’t think we should take this any further.”

Yuki swallows hard at his confession. Of course she wants to hear it. How long has she been in love with Zero? It feels like some part of her always has. She can’t remember a version of herself that didn’t love him, didn't want him. “I’ve never wanted anything more,” Yuki replies with tears in her eyes. “Of course, I love you, too.”

Zero is speechless, but her words light a fire in his eyes as he lifts her arms over her head and pins them down on the bed with one hand. Yuki raises her face to meet his lips with hers, sighing into the kiss as Zero shifts his hips, pushing inside her with tantalizing gentleness.

Yuki exhales in surprise when he fills her up, his angle offering deeper penetration than she is used to. Zero is far bigger than Kaname, but as he slowly grinds up inside her, she takes up a rhythm against him, appreciating his size and skill as the maddening friction wracks her body with pleasure.

Their pace increases and Zero is breathing heavily, gripping under Yuki’s thigh and pulling her closer with each ramming thrust. It’s everything she’s wanted, everything she ever dreamed it could be in her dizziest fantasies. They’re perfectly in sync, their bodies melding together like the pieces of a puzzle. His eyes are locked on hers, piercing straight to her soul as he shows her with every caress that it’s been him all along, that no one else could ever make love to her like this. Yuki tosses back her head and cries out his name with reckless abandon as Zero hammers her over the edge again, her seizing muscles coaxing him to his own climax.

Her whole body is trembling and sated and she lifts her hand to brush Zero’s sweat-soaked bangs aside. He leans down to kiss her once more before collapsing beside her on the bed, trying to regulate his breath. Yuki snuggles close, pressing her forehead against his, and he smiles at her faintly before shutting his tired eyes.

A lump rises in her throat at the tenderness of the moment, and she cannot for the life of her think of a time that she has felt this happy. She has no idea what tomorrow or even that night will bring, but she does know that she is safe and free for the first time in a year. It’s all because of Zero Kiryu, and Yuki decides she’s never letting go of him again.