#they also hook up like a million times before even admitting to themselves they have feelings for each other

[ghost-maya]

Ask game - The Cruise ! asked by @mihawking ehe tyy | (WIP List Ask Game | Asks)

oh this one is fun, it's my fake newlyweds cruise employee au based on this tiktok which i knew i had to make the moment i watched it LOL

somehow in writing the outline the tone became a lot more melancholic- i just have an outline rn so no prose, but i think the outline is funny so i'll share the first bit of it:

a. zoro and sanji work on the same cruise line. they know each other and 'hate' each other b. unbeknownst to each other, they both take a week off and accept complimentary rooms on the boat as passengers c. hoping to win some free booze (zoro) and maybe score some ladies (sanji) they make their way to the main events place d. sanji sees zoro hunched over a sign up sheet. he's kind of lonely so he goes to bug him (“do you not have any friends or something?” “i have friends!” “ok sure, whatever you say” “acting so high and mighty - where are your friends then” “not wasting their time on a stupid boat thats for sure”). turns out the contest zoro wants to join is a couples contest e. sanji on a whim decides to humour him. they are now competing together. f. they win. get drunk as fuck. get upgraded to the honeymoon suite. um. dont tell me theyre actually attracted to each other...

right now the plan is to intersperse the sections with the couples questions - sort of a non-linear thing as they get closer and closer and realize how well they already know each other. and how they're both sort of unhappy with where they are but don't want to be the one to say "i'm in love with you but i can't stay on the cruise with you"

i am kind of planning to time me actually writing this with when i go on a cruise this december (should line up with all the other wips i need to get done before then anyways orz) . we'll see how well that works out ajdsfja

[ninyard]

how do you think jean would be post tsc duology with his sexuality with jeremy like i feel like he’s been put into this submissive role at the nest but idk if that was something he enjoyed

Oh you’ve opened a can of worms anon. Here’s a not so short but typically messy, as per usual, look into Jean’s sexuality.

Firstly, I think there are a million different nuances and anomaly’s and sides to Jean’s sexuality. Jean Moreau: whose first girlfriend was a plane ticket to the United States. We don’t know much about his childhood, but we can only imagine it wasn’t pleasant; If he’s anything like Neil, did he date at all as a kid/young teen?

So - let’s picture it. We’re a little while into Jean’s time with the Trojans, we're a little while into Jean and Jeremy figuring each other out, and the sex conversations comes up.

Now, personally, I don't believe that Jean's response to his trauma is anything like Andrew's - we've seen he doesn't seem to have an issue being touched, and nor does he seem to have an issue with sexuality in general. But things that I believe he does have a problem with?

His sexuality, and knowing what he wants vs what he believes is expected of him.

I think Jean has an incredible amount of shame around his interest in men. Most of it having been beaten into him, instilled by Riko into him. I think his gut response to pull away and reject advances and pretend his interest in men doesn't exist comes mostly from that, or from hearing Kevin say to him that it was far too difficult a life to be the child of a legacy and interested in men. How the public would react, how professional exy teams and the media would respond; it's always easier to be heterosexual. It always has been.

The first hurdle Jean has to jump over is that; allowing himself to desire men, to feel like that is okay, to feel like he deserves the way that Jeremy looks at him. The Trojans help, far more than they even know. Cat and Laila help. All of the queer couples and out-and-proud folks on the team help. Immeasurably. It normalises it for him, and he sees how safe they are, how unpunished they are, and whether its subconscious or not, being around them all really helps destroy his bone-deep shame. But he gets past it. At some stage he admits that his sexuality is unimportant to him, as it truly is, but he feels comfortable enough say well, yes, his attraction does also extend to men. It will never be more important that Exy. But it exists. It just eventually becomes a far smaller deal to him that it had originally been.

Skip some time, some awkward and painful conversations, and Jean and Jeremy are together. How that happens, I don't know - do they hook up first? Do they date for a while before they get there? But, when they get there, there comes this point a handful of times in where Jeremy realises he has been leading their encounters a whole lot more than Jean is. In fact, when he thinks about it, as comfortable as Jean insists that he is, he is not in control at all. He follows Jeremy's lead. Jeremy thinks about Kevin's awkward comment the day he was asked to sign Jean.

"Tell me what you want." Jeremy says, having thought too much about it, having wondered if he was imagining things.

"You," Jean responds, maybe. "That is all."

Jeremy sits back and he looks at him, and Jean looks back with that gorgeous and confused look draped across his pale complexion. Somehow they talk for a little while, and find themselves at the point:

Is this how you actually want to have sex, or is it just how you think I want you to have sex?

And Jean doesn't know. It's the question that sends him spiralling, because he hasn't even realised it. He hasn't noticed how he is simply complacent, uninvested in his own desires and pleasure in order to keep Jeremy happy. It's not that he doesn't get pleasure from it, of course he does, but he will not take a step out of line if Jeremy is happy. I think he might have to stop for a while, stepping back from sex while he tries to understand his relationship with sex itself. He's too used to being used and having expectations put on him that he knows no different. He doesn't know what he likes. He doesn't know if he prefers to top or bottom, to be submissive or dominant, or any other thing like that; it's a no-mans land that he's spent far too long people-pleasing in that he's forgotten that he's allowed to enjoy it as well. So I think that takes a lot of time and unlearning to see his own pleasure as something worthy of investigating.

Jeremy is patient, of course, and while he sees how much of a "step back" Jean has taken in terms of being okay with sex, it's worth it; sure, Jean never much had a problem with it, and maybe bringing it up caused a problem, but it sparks that thought in Jean's brain. That curiosity about whether or not the role that he plays during sex has been built by the nest, or if it's what he genuinely likes to do. As I say, it takes a lot of unlearning for Jean. A lot of unpacking of what happened to him, and a lot of really, really hard conversations.

His body is his own, and he knows that now. It does not belong to Jeremy. Again, not that Jeremy thinks so either, to be very clear. He knows Jeremy doesn't think so. Not one bit. But he has to understand that himself. He doesn't have to read Jeremy's micro expressions to figure out what he wants him to do, he doesn't have to just keep him happy. Intimacy can only exist in an environment where it is reciprocated. And while he cares deeply for Jeremy, if he is ignoring his own desires in order to maintain peace, he is not being genuine. He is simply submitting because that's the only option he's known. That's the only choice he's ever had.

I think Jean loves sex - I think Jean really, really enjoys having sex with Jeremy. I just think it's also evident quite quickly that he isn't even thinking about how he affords Jeremy all of the control in every scenario. Jean is submissive because that's all he knows. And I feel like it takes a while and a lot of talking for him to leave that habit behind and freely, unashamedly, fuck without expectation for him to be a certain way or act a certain way. That doesn't mean he has to be a top or a bottom. It does mean that he has to stop himself from studying every twitch and tell on Jeremy's face to try understand completely what the Captain expects of him.

[robertreich]

This One Thing Made Alex Jones Stop Lying 

Alex Jones will have to pay millions to the parents of Sandy Hook victims.

Fox News might be on the hook for over a billion dollars after making bogus 2020 election claims.

It turns out there actually might be a way to stop the constant stream of lies coming from the right-wing media. How can we do it? Two words:

Sue. Them.

This won’t defeat the right’s media ecosystem overnight — but defamation law may prove to be one vital weapon in the battle against misinformation. Let me explain.

Alex Jones, you may recall, had used his website InfoWars to portray the Sandy Hook school shooting massacre as a hoax involving actors, aimed at increasing gun control. Parents of victim children sued Jones and his media company for $150 million — ultimately winning an initial settlement of $49 million.

Courts in Texas and Connecticut had already found Jones liable for defamation. And as a result, Jones’ parent company, Free Speech Systems, filed for bankruptcy.

Even though Jones lost this case and finally admitted that the Sandy Hook massacre was “100 percent real,” he’s probably not going to stop making harmful and deceptive videos anytime soon.

But this defamation lawsuit will serve as a warning to both Jones and others in the media who build their business models around spreading lies.

Like OAN.

One America News, a Trump-allied media organization that pushed conspiracy theories about the election, is facing so many defamation lawsuits from those harmed by the start-up network’s lies that its future is now in doubt.

Cable providers have dropped OAN like an extremist hot potato, and the network is now only available to a few hundred thousand people who subscribe to smaller cable providers.

Talk about cutting the chord.

Defamation lawsuits have also been filed against more established right-wing media organizations, like Fox News.  

Dominion Voting Systems, a maker of election information technology used widely across the country, is suing Fox for $1.6 billion over false claims they say the network knowingly made about its software following the 2020 Election.

The case could potentially be a huge financial blow to Fox, and serve as one of the most consequential First Amendment cases in a generation.

Again, to be clear, defamation litigation will not single handedly stop the rampant spread of misinformation taking over the airwaves and the internet. These lawsuits can take years and often end up being expensive, plus some of the media organizations peddling lies are bankrolled by conservatives with deep pockets and a radical agenda.  

It can also be abused, and in some cases, pose potential threats to the free press. Although, if news outlets are alerted to errors and correct them quickly, defamation shouldn’t be a problem.

But at a time when social media companies clearly can’t be trusted to moderate themselves against weaponized lies — and elected officials have done little to step-in — the courts might be the best avenue we have to take on manufactured deception and put it to rest.

Where other methods to counter half-truths and exaggerations being spewed by Fox News and their ilk have failed, defamation law might make companies think twice before they knowingly spread falsehoods — and help stop the vicious cycle of lies, clicks, and profits that further divides our country.

[apiratewhopines]

Something Suspiciously Like Hope

Summary — The moment Captain Hook opens himself up to the possibility of love

Read on AO3

Inspired by Reception Redos and Jellymoons by Jrob64.

A gift for Joni @jrob64 as a thank you for the artwork she did for Killian, Persuaded. If words equaled gratitude, a million wouldn’t be enough.

David asked him once when he knew Emma was the one. He had hemmed and hawed, uncharacteristically shy about confessing his feelings to his father-in-law. One could argue that most people would have the same reaction when questioned by a man whose love life went down as the stuff of myths and legends. Although, when everything was said and done, Killian thought his own love story hadn’t turned out too shabby even with the many twists and turns it had taken over the centuries.

Deep down, he knew it wasn’t the tenderness of his emotions or the intimidation factor of Prince Charming being the inquisitor. No, the reason for his reluctance was something else entirely.

His life had changed so much, he had changed so much, that sometimes revisiting those early days of his acquaintance with Emma seemed like someone else’s life. He had been his normal roguish self, pushing and taunting to hide his genuine fascination with the blonde beauty who had steel running through her spine and fire in her blood.

She wasn’t charmed. Hell, he wasn’t even sure she was interested until he was already well past the point of no return. He had ached with longing, his body tense and mind restless, all the while trying to figure out how to pull her closer with hands already full of bitterness and tightly gripping on to vengeance.

He was ashamed at how long it had taken him to realize the price he needed to pay for the magic of her love was to let go of the past.

As he twisted himself inside out in his quest to become the man she deserved, the man he wanted to be, he would often think about when it began. Why after over a century of loneliness did a continuation of his life as it was suddenly seem unbearable? Why this woman who clearly was immune to his particular brand of charisma? Why abandon his sole goal, and all hope of revenge, for someone who merely tolerated him at best?

The answer was her heart.

Not her heart in the sense of her goodness, her courage, or her kindness. Although all those things formed pieces of the net that entrapped him.

He meant her heart in a very literal, and physical, manner.

Killian Jones had lain dormant for decades, buried under a cutthroat exterior and cunning mind bent on revenge. The young man who had been abandoned by his father and suffered through the loss of more loved ones than anybody should, rebelled against his role of victim and bystander of his fate. When he was forced to watch his brother die for the greed of an ignoble king, it had been the final straw.

But he had still been him. Still Killian, although a little more battle-weary and scarred.

Then he met Milah. His kindred spirit in all the ways that mattered, a companion who thirsted for freedom and adventure in a way that stole his breath. He had loved her as only a person who knew how it felt to lose someone could. Desperately, beyond reason, like a man who had lost his sight and clung hopelessly to the memory of his last sunset all the while knowing soon it, like everything else in his life, would fade.

And he had been right in the worst possible way.

Captain Hook was born out of loss, rigid in his purpose, unflinching in his objectives. But he was also a shield. Once committed to his bloodlust, Killian knew he was signing on to a life empty of love and friendship. The Dark One was not an enemy who respected fair play. The evil imp would find what you cared about, torture you with it, and then destroy all your happiness.

So it had seemed easier to not be happy in the first place.

It was a sacrifice he willingly made. He could have made the case his struggle was a noble one. After all, when you started a blood feud with the most powerful sorcerer in all the realms, you couldn’t go about your business like it was any other Tuesday. So he was really doing everyone a favor by never carrying on beyond dalliances and the murky friendships with his crew that were more about loyalty and obedience than true affection.

Of course, it was all a lie.

He knew it the moment he saw her heart. Or rather, didn’t see it.

For all his musings and certainties he was doing the right thing by keeping his distance from the rest of humanity, the truth was he did it because he couldn’t suffer another loss. He didn’t want to see one more person he loved with their heart ripped from their chest and crushed to dust. If any speck of Killian Jones was to survive, it was better to bypass any entanglements.

He was prepared to stay the course. He took up with all types of villains and unsavory characters and found they were the best sort of people. People who cut off emotion and consciences like gangrenous limbs in order to save themselves.

They were his people.

And then, the moment that changed everything.

They said Lake Nostos had the ability to return to you what was lost. He just hadn’t expected it to come in a flood of emotion so strong it nearly overwhelmed him.

As delightful as he had found Emma up until then, he was still prepared to double-cross and cheat her if it meant he could finally sink his hook into the Dark One’s thick hide. However, his attraction to her aside, he believed in good form and he wouldn’t cause her or her companions any more harm than necessary in his quest. Despite her uncalled for betrayal on their beanstalk journey, her orphan eyes called him back to his better days and he found while he couldn’t exactly forgive her defection, he could respect her singularity of purpose.

After all, wasn’t his own single-minded pursuit what had gotten him into the mess to begin with? Then he was trapped between a rock and a hard place. Cora would surely make him pay if he crossed her again and Emma wouldn’t go down without a fight.

Even he wasn’t sure which side he would land on, the internal struggle and cat-and-mouse game distracting him from the sword fight and leading to an opening the Swan girl took advantage of in a way that strangely made him proud.

As he watched from his place in the sand, Cora reached into Emma’s chest.

His eyes had shut tightly against the image. Echoes of past tragedies ripped through him, reminding him that love was pain, to keep his distance because all hope was already lost.

And then, nothing.

Against his better judgement, he opened his eyes and saw Cora’s empty hand. A wave of light so pure it burned his skin pulsed out from Emma, leaving him woozy. He watched Snow and her adult daughter jump into his portal but he was too dazed to register the fact that once again his chance at revenge was stolen from him.

Honestly, he started having an inkling it didn’t even matter anymore.

His mind whispered, “She’s safe.”

His heart whispered, “She’s the one.”

His soul whispered, “She’s everything.”

Years later, he admitted to himself it was then, at his bleakest point, the first rays of dawn had peeked through his unending darkness. He had even joked with Henry one time it was the moment he decided to win the heart of the woman whose heart couldn’t be stolen.

As he stood and watched his latest opportunity to get even with his archenemy close, he couldn’t help the smile spreading across his face. Ignoring Cora’s murderous stare, he had looked at the peaceful waters and wondered if there was truly someone that would be safe from the Dark One’s machinations. Someone who already called to him on levels he had buried deeply before her grandparents had even been born.

Perhaps it hadn’t been full-blown love but it was the start of something. Something suspiciously like hope.

[reidgraygubler]

a different type of high (spencer reid/reader) pt 4

Title: A Different Type of High (part four)

Request: no

Couple: spencer reid/gender-neutral!reader

Category: angst in the first half, some fluff in the second half

Content Warning: mentions of death, talks about parent death, relapse scare, suicidal ideation, talks about drug usage and drugs, anxiety/panic attacks, explanations of nightmares/night terrors, swearing, intrusive thoughts,

Word Count: 4,514

Summary: Reader nearly relapses because of the anniversary of her mother’s passing. 

A/N: this one does deal with some heavier topics (see CW's), so please proceed with caution. I originally had t his as on big long part, but, uh, it was too long. So it’s two parts… anyways, thank you all for the love and support! check out my masterlist!

last part  series masterlist  next part

{***}{***}{***}

I sat in the living room with my eyes on the coffee table. Several orange pill bottles sat lined up on the edge. The way the light caught the plastic caught my attention, mostly in a bad way. I was already on edge, and my day was already ruined. Any number of things could have made my day bad, but we can easily put the blame on my mother. And, I’m not just saying that because she’s an easy target. No, I’m blaming her because she died a year ago on this very day.

I was hungry, and not for the food in my fridge. No, I was hungry for the high and the nothingness. The high that was dangerous and could likely kill me. Maybe that’s what I wanted. I mean, the only person I have in life to keep me grounded was Spencer… And we’ve only known each other for a short time. What if he’s faking it all? He doesn’t really care about me. He just says he does. Saying stuff I want to hear.

My body was on autopilot as my hand moved towards the bottles. The grip I had on the lid was tight like my life depended on it. Mostly because, in that moment, my life did depend on it. That was until a slip of paper caught my eyes. An unfamiliar handwriting was scribbled across the paper, but a more familiar name was at the bottom. 

Just because I’m at work doesn’t mean I’m not thinking about you! Please call me if you need help with anything! 

-Spencer

I furrowed my eyebrows as I looked at the note. I have no idea when he would have written it and put it there. But it was the exact sort of pick-me-up I needed to stop me from making a stupid mistake. 

I stood up and shoved the paper and bottle of pills in my pocket before making my way to the door. My keys and a small stack of quarters sat on the side table beside the door, they ended up in my pocket. 

My feet moved themselves, and I soon appeared at the laundromat down the street. There were a few people there, and I could tell they 

hadn’t been there for very long. I just hope my phone call to Spencer wasn’t too long and they didn’t listen. Although, why would they listen to a random girl’s phone call? They don’t care, they won’t care. 

I quickly made my way towards the payphones, going to the furthest one to ensure my own privacy (again, they won’t care). I fished out the quarters as I sat down. It was kind of amazing how quickly I dialed Spencer’s number, and more impressive how fast I remembered it. It was the next number I remembered after my address.

The phone only dialed for a few seconds before he answered. I would have assumed he was busy with work or something. But, I guess, like his note said, even if he was busy, he was thinking about me. I’m pretty sure he was just saying that though.

“Hello, this is Doctor Spencer Reid,” he spoke calmly like he didn’t know what was happening. Well, that was probably because he had no idea I was on the verge of a breakdown. “Hello?”

“It’s… It’s me… Spencer, Spencer, I…” I swallowed roughly as I stared blankly at the wall in front of me. I could feel my heart beating a million miles an hour and hear the beating in my head. It was nearly deafening to me. Being alone didn’t help the anxious feeling. “Are you home?” My voice was a light whisper, and I wondered if he even heard me ask. I don’t even know why I asked if he was at home. I knew he was at work. It’s only 3 pm. Maybe I was just hoping he’d be home, and he could come over and save the day, make me feel better somehow. How though? I’m not sure. Spencer’s a fix-it type of guy, I’m sure he’ll figure something out.

“I’m still at work. But I should be home soon. Why? Is everything okay? Are you okay?” He asked, his voice heavily laced with concern. It was that moment that I realized he did care about me. 

I closed my eyes and brought my hand to rest over my mouth to muffle any sobs. “Are you okay? I need you to talk to me. Tell me what’s going on.” He asked again when I stayed silent. I let out a deep sigh and shook my head, even though he couldn’t see me.

“I, uh, I… I want…” I let out another deep sigh, hoping he’d know what I was getting at. “Please don’t make me say it,” I whispered and looked at the counter. My fingers rapidly tapped against the smooth surface. We both knew I had to say it and admit my defeat and the fact that I was sitting in the laundromat, with a bottle of whatever drug I had hidden in my bathroom. “Fuck,” I shouted before slamming the phone down on the hook. The other few people in the laundromat looked at me with caution in their eyes. 

“What?!” I looked at them before I tightly tugged my sweater around my body before storming out of the laundromat. The pill bottle in my pocket rattled with each step I took, and it was getting very difficult to move without wanting to take anything. Tears sprung from my eyes, blurring my vision the longer I was outside.

When I finally made it back to my apartment, I stormed to the bathroom. My reflection scared me. I almost didn’t recognize myself. It was a little horrifying, seeing myself as so unrecognizable. So, I stared at myself, my hand in my pocket, rattling the contents inside.

I scoffed before shaking my head. My hand came out with the bottle, and my eyes looked down at it. My thumb fidgeted with the lid, wanting to pop it off and pour the contents into my mouth. But, instead, I chucked it to the sink, the lid popping off and pills flying everywhere, before I ran to my bedroom.

I pulled the blankets over my body to hide from the world. Tears were rolling down my cheeks and face and I knew there was nothing I could do to stop it. That’s a shame too… Nearly two months clean and all I wanted to do was not exist and ruin everything.

{***}{***}{***}

I jumped awake when a very loud banging came on the front door. I looked around my room before swinging my legs off my bed and leaving the room. I dragged my body across my apartment and to the front door, where the banging hadn’t stopped.

I pulled the door open and looked up. Spencer was standing there, looking at me with a frantic expression on his face. I stared at him with wide eyes, my earlier fears and anxieties quickly returning. I had nearly forgotten about calling him too. Damn it.

“You didn’t do anything, did you? You didn’t take anything?” He asked, looking down at me. I took a deep breath and shook my head. I stepped to the side and silently invited him inside. He stepped inside and looked back at me, before looking around my home. He was probably looking for any signs of current drug use. The only real sign was in the bathroom… Where the bathroom had a grenade of pills explode all over the place. We’ll just keep him out of there… For now...

“No, no, I didn’t. I swear I didn’t. I, uh... I took a nap and cried it out,”  I rubbed the underside of my nose. I pressed the door shut before turning around to look at him. He was looking at me, he still wore a panicky expression in his eyes and it made me feel sick. He doesn’t believe that I didn’t do anything. I wouldn’t believe me either.

“What happened?” Spencer finally asked as I walked up to him. He opened his arms up and allowed me to hug him. I honestly didn’t want to answer him. Everything about today was already awful, and I just wanted it to be over. “Can you tell me what happened?” He asked after a moment of silence. I let out a deep sigh after he pulled his arms away from me. He noted my deep breath and wrapped his arms back around me. 

I turned my head away from his chest so I could have a coherent sentence. Er, well, as coherent as it could get. “My… It’s the anniversary of… Of my mom's death,” I swallowed roughly. Spencer looked down at me before squeezing me harder. I pressed my face into his chest and shook my head. “And, I just…. Wanted to disappear. I don’t know…” I spoke, my words being muffled into his shirt. One of Spencer’s hands cradled the back of my head while the other held me closer to him. “I didn’t want to be alive at the moment,” I whispered. 

“Don’t say that,” he returned the whisper. His voice vibrated in his chest, and it felt good against my head. The way he squeezed me made me feel safer in the moment. “Please don’t ever say that again,” his voice cracked at the end. I bit my lips together as I started to cry. “Don’t even think like that,” his voice got even lower, probably because he was also crying and he was just trying to mask that fact.

“You don’t get to think that way either,” I looked up at him and furrowed my eyebrows. He looked at me as he remembered when he was gone for a week and how he stood in front of several people with loaded weapons. 

“This isn’t about me… It’s about you,” he whispered, bringing a hand to my face. His thumb brushed away the tears that were rolling down my cheeks, but that was basically useless because I couldn’t stop crying. But it felt good to cry, to be honest. “You’re still young and have so much to live for. Someone has to save you,” he looked down at me, his hand still holding my face. I feared that he was only doing it to make sure I was still here and alive. Which was a weird fear for me to have, and I suppose for him to have. 

“So are you, Spencer,” I whispered as I leaned into his touch more. He swallowed roughly as he kept his eyes on me. His eyes grew glossy the longer he stared at me. “You save everyone… But who saves you from yourself?” I furrowed my eyebrows. Spencer sighed deeply before hugging me again. 

“You do,” his whisper was hardly audible, so I was happy I heard his words. I wasn’t so sure what he meant by that. I mean, obviously, I was the thing that kept him sane while he was home. But, I don’t exactly know how I save him though. So, I was unsure as to why he told me that.  “It’s just been difficult for me recently. But, I’m working on getting better,” he spoke softly. And, I swear he said ‘for you’, but it was so quiet I couldn’t be sure. Even if he did say it, I’m sure I wasn’t supposed to hear it.

We stayed silent for a while, and we just stood in each other’s arms for even longer. Being in his embrace made me feel safe, and I know I said that earlier. But it’s true. I wonder if he felt the same.

“You alright?” Spencer looked up at me. I looked down at our hands and nodded. “You look like you haven’t slept in a couple of days,” he spoke, his tone was soft and gentle. I could tell that he really cared and was trying really hard not to sound mean. I didn’t mean to take it to heart the way I did, but I did.

“Not really,” I grumbled and looked down at the ground. I shrugged and quickly glanced at him. He was looking at me with an apologetic look on his face, silently telling me that he was sorry for suddenly offending me. I shrugged it off like it was nothing. It wouldn’t be the first or last time someone offended me over something so… small and unimportant. He shouldn’t be sorry, it’s my own fault. He was just asking if I was alright.

 “The last few days have been rough for me, ya know? Especially with this whole thing,” I sighed deeply and shrugged again.

“If I stay here, will you promise to get some rest,” Spencer offered, grasping both my hands. I looked at our hands with a dullness in my eyes. I was beginning to zone out because of how tired I was getting. Spencer lifted a hand and gently rubbed my shoulder. I sighed and looked down before looking up at his face.

“I’m having nightmares, and they’re really realistic… That’s why I’m losing sleep,” I whispered. Spencer looked at me before pulling me into a hug. “And they’re about everything. Me, my mom, you, drugs, dying, death… I don’t know,” I mumbled into his chest. I pressed my chin into his chest and looked up at him. Spencer looked down at me with a smile on his lips. We were really close to each other’s face, and I know he noticed that too. “I like when you spend the night,” I noted, changing the subject to something lighter, even though it was that much lighter. 

“Really,” he asked, raising an eyebrow and smiling lightly. I nodded and returned the smile. “Why’s that,”

“Because then I’m not lonely, and left with my thoughts,” I whispered as I stared at him. I’ve never noticed how pretty his eyes are, with their golden and greeny color. He looked at me like he saw something, but I was clueless about what he saw. “And, whenever I’m with you, I feel safe and at home, in some weird way. I’m sorry. I don’t know. The exhaustion is starting to hit me now that you pointed it out,” I sat back away from him. I pressed my hands into my face and shook my head. “I just never sleep anymore and I’m honestly used to it at this point. But I’m tired all the damn time,” 

“I’ll be here, you can rest. You don’t have to worry about anything hurting you,” he whispered before wrapping an arm around my body. I looked up at him and nodded. “Let’s lie down?” he asked softly. I nodded before going to walk to my bedroom. Before I even got the chance to step a foot away from him, Spencer picked me up and carried me. I looked at his face and furrowed my eyebrows. “I’m fully capable of walking, you know,” 

“I know,” Spencer smiled as he readjusted his hold on me. He was carrying me like a backpack, but on his front instead of his back. “But you’re tired,” he hummed as he held me tightly.

“Yeah, I am,” I looked at him with a smile. Spencer laughed at me and shook his head. Our faces were close again, closer than before. And, for some reason, I really wanted to kiss him. Which, again, is weird. He’s my best friend… And I want to fucking kiss him. It just felt like the perfect moment for us to kiss. But, I don’t want to ruin our friendship. I can’t lose the one thing that’s keeping me grounded. And he can’t lose the thing keeping him grounded.

Spencer carefully kicked my bedroom door open and walked in. He laid me down on one side of the bed before going to the other side. The blanket was pulled over both our bodies and Spencer was close to me.

“Please get some sleep,” he whispered, brushing hair away from my face. I looked up at him and nodded. “Do you want me to rub your back?” 

“I knew there was a reason I kept you around,” I laughed before rolling onto my stomach. “My bestest friend ever,” I hummed as he started running his hand along my back.

“Aren’t I your only friend?” Spencer joked lightly.

“Ah, not only that. My bestest friend,” I looked up at him and smiled. Spencer shook his head before brushing his fingers across my eyelids, somehow getting me to close my eyes. 

“Go to sleep,” he whispered. I giggled and nodded before moving closer to him. Spencer returned the laughter before wrapping an arm over me. 

{***}{***}{***}

I wrinkled my nose as I noticed a weight across my body. It wasn’t like an emotional weight like I’ve been so used to waking up to recently. No, there was something actually on top of me while I was asleep. So, when I opened my eyes, I wasn’t too surprised when I saw something on me. However, I was more surprised that it was another person. That’s right, Spencer stayed the night.

His arm was strewn across my torso, and his legs were entwined with mine. His head was resting on the same pillow as me. The way he slept so soundly and restfully made me mildly jealous. How come he gets to sleep so peacefully and I don’t?

I hope he was as peaceful as I thought. There was probably not a bad thing he was dreaming about. Unfortunately for me, I was freaking out because I dreamt that I watched my best friend being killed.

I laid back, pressing my head into the pillow before turning to look at Spencer. His nose twitched as he stirred lightly before hugging me tighter. I held my breath, worried that my breathing would wake up. But, it did. There was no need for worry. He must be having a good dream with all the humming and hugging he was doing. 

I looked at his face, mesmerized by the way he slept so soundly. The way his eyelashes pressed against his cheeks, and freckles dotted the bridge of his nose. His lips pouty and slightly parted. I didn’t even realize he was awake and I was staring till he said something.

“Hey,” he murmured, pulling me closer before nuzzling into me more. I smiled softly as I looked up at him again. “You don’t have to go to the bathroom, do you?” he hummed as he closed his eyes again. 

“No, I don’t,” I replied back, giving up on any chances of getting up. We might be here for a while, so there’s probably no point in getting out of bed with Spencer holding me hostage. 

“Mmm, good,” he opened his eyes and looked down at me. The tired smile on his lips made me feel warm and safe as I looked at him. “How long have you been awake?” he asked, his thumb rubbing circles on my shoulder.

“Not long,” I whispered, looking right at his eyes. He looked back at me and nodded. “How did you sleep,”

“I think that was the best sleep I’ve had in a very long time,” he closed his eyes again, “Something about your bed is very comfortable,” he looked down at me and smiled. 

“Is it the bed or is it because you’re sleeping with someone to cuddle with?” I asked myself as I stared at him. “I’m happy you find my bed comfortable,” I laughed lightly. My bed is not comfortable. So I know he didn’t find it that comfortable.

“How did you sleep?” he asked, placing a hand on my cheek. I swallowed roughly as I stared at him.   

“Better than the previous night,” I shrugged a little bit. Spencer frowned as he readjusted his hold on me. “Let’s make breakfast,” I spoke out loud before sitting up, pushing his arms off me. 

“Breakfast?” 

“Yeah,” I smiled as I slipped out of bed and grasped his hand to pull him out of bed. He grumbled before standing out of the bed. I smiled at him before practically skipping out of the bedroom. “I’m sure I have something!” I spoke out loud, knowing I have nothing much for breakfast.

 I went right to the kitchen, instantly eyeing up the loaf of bread that was probably a little stale. I grabbed it and opened the fridge, happy to see a carton of eggs. And with that, I made eggs in a basket. I hope that Spencer would enjoy that. Considering it was one of the only things I knew how to make.

“Coffee?” Spencer asked as he slowly walked into the kitchen. I turned around and pulled open a cabinet. A can of Folgers was sitting on the top shelf. I pouted as I stared at the can.

“I don’t think it’s good,” I muttered as I pulled the can from the shelf. “I probably had this stupid can of grounds for an embarrassingly long time,” I spoke as I looked into the can and noted that the grounds were kinda gross and kinda clumpy, causing me to pout. “No coffee,” I muttered, tossing the can to the garbage, only to miss and go over. The can landed with a clang on the ground. 

“We can always get some later,” Spencer smiled as he bent over to pick up the can. I raised my eyebrow at him as he tossed the can to the trash, without failing.

“We?” I asked, turning to watch him lean against the counter. He shrugged and smiled.

“Why not,” he shrugged again. I smiled as I looked at him. It was only then that I realized I was burning the food.

“Oh no!” I jumped around to the stove to remove the pan from the stove. “I hope you’re okay with burnt eggs and toast,” I pouted as I looked back at Spencer. He had stepped closer to the stovetop to watch me. He looked very amused with my laughter and urgency with cooking. “Don’t laugh!” I looked up at his face.

“I just don’t think I’ve ever seen you panic over food before,” he pointed out with a smile. I looked down at the burnt food as I carefully moved it to a plate.

“I’m hungry,” I muttered before shrugging. I looked back up at Spencer and shrugged.

“That’s a good thing…” 

“Being hungry? How is that a good thing?” I scoffed and raised an eyebrow.

“You have your appetite back,” Spencer pointed out before he lifted me up to set me back down on the counter. It was so effortless as he moved me. I was impressed that he barely strained to lift me (unless, he did and I was just oblivious to it).  We were at the same level now, and I was able to look him in the eye instead of at his chest. 

“Why’d you do that?” I looked at him before looking at the counter beside me. 

“So we can have an eye to eye conversation,” he smiled at me. I rolled my eyes and looked down at the plate of two burnt eggs in a basket. “Can I ask you a question?” he asked, watching as I started picking at the food. He smiled as he stood between my legs. 

“You just did,” I smiled, trying to pretend like I wasn’t suddenly anxious. Why ask someone if you can ask a question? Why not just ask the question? That’s like #1 reason why people get anxious. 

“I want to take you to the office, so you can meet everyone,” he whispered as he grabbed some food too. I looked up at him with wide eyes.

“You want to take me… To the FBI…” I stared at Spencer. I almost relapsed yesterday and had the worst day of the year yesterday... And, he wants to take me to… The FBI to meet his friends… I could feel bile rising from my stomach. It honestly took everything in me to hold back the sick. So, I slowly lowered my hand and food back to the counter.

“Yeah, they’re my family, and you’re my family… So, that also makes them yours,” Spencer smiled at me. I dropped my shoulders as I stared at him. I really didn’t want to argue his logic there, but I understand why he said that. 

“Won’t… They’ll… Spencer, that’s… I don’t think that's a good… They’ll ask how you know me,” I whispered as I looked away from him. He rested a hand on my knee and looked at my face.

“We won’t worry about that right now,” he whispered in a reassuring tone. I stared at him and shrugged.

“What’ll we tell them? When they ask, ya know?” I looked up at him. Spencer stayed silent as he looked around my kitchen. I could only assume he was thinking really hard about what we would say and how we would lie to his family. 

“I’m not sure,” Spencer shrugged as he grasped my hands. I looked down at our hands and felt a frown forming. “I don’t know,” he whispered and shook his head. It was obvious for both of us that we would have a hard time being around his friends. Everything about telling a bunch of FBI agents that you’re addicted/was addicted to drugs can be a little (alright, a lot) intimidating. What are they going to do? The worst thing is they arrest me and fire Spencer. “Don’t overthink it,” he looked up at me. I nodded.

“I just won’t think about it,” I forced a smile before shrugging. Spencer gave me a knowing smile. “If they’re your family, Spencer, then they’re my family,” I sighed deeply as I looked down at my legs. I pulled my hands from his before rubbing my hands up and down my thighs. “And, I’d love to meet your family,” I sighed even deeper as I looked up at him. His face lit up a little bit with my words, and it genuinely made me feel happy. 

“You’ll love them,” he whispered before pulling me off the counter. I wrinkled my nose before looking up at him.

“I mean, I’ve already met Emily. And, she seemed definitely cool,” I laughed as I grabbed the plate. I looked at the two burnt pieces of bread. I tossed them into the trash and looked up at him. “I just hope everyone else is just as cool as she is, and even as cool as you,” I cocked my head as I looked up at him. He stayed silent before pulling me into a hug. “When would you even want me to go?” I asked once he released me. My stomach felt upside-down as I asked my stupid question. “Whenever you want,” he spoke softly. I looked down at the ground and nodded.

 “I should let you get to work. I know you don’t like being late,” I pouted, “I’ll see you later?” 

“Of course,” Spencer smiled before hugging me again.

last part  series masterlist   next part

series taglist: @shameleswhorehourstm, @itsametaphorbriansblog, @bxtchboy69, @sammypotato67, @seninjakitey, @thebluetint​

didn’t work: thatsonezesty13,  mediocrehamiltrash

[forgiveness-in-the-misery]

Nathan's Relationships

Nathan is probably the most stable of the band, but I do find when it comes to romantic relationships there's something there. He's the only member of the band that we really see have romantic relationships, the others seem content to not date or on occasion do date or want to date, but nothing that we actually get to see. Not in the way we do with Nathan through the series.

So this is more so focused on his relationships and the fact he seems to in a more subtle less open way share Toki's obsession with romance and happy endings.

If you take all four seasons, Doomstar Requiem, and bonus videos especially the Shakespeare Reading videos you can get a general idea that Nathan is strangely enough a romantic. Or at least is sort of like a teenage boy whose idea of romance is very simplistic but also rather sweet and naive.

Out of the five he is the one who is close to his parents who as far as we know remain married for most if not all of the series though we never hear for certain about that. We know his parents had a strained marriage when he was born, because they hadn't planned on having a baby anytime soon or possibly not at all. Unlike the rest of the band though it doesn't sound like his parents took this out on him as he grew up and when he talks about his childhood it sounds mostly normal at least where his home life is concerned, nothing super insane like his friends. We know his relationship with his dad was tense until he reached his adult years and they clearly finally sat and sorted through things and created a strong bond with each other by season two of the series.

In the Shakespeare reading videos Nathan talks about a lot of things....almost none of it related to the plays he's supposed to be reciting. He does mention Disney movies and his love of the reality show The Bachelorette. Disney movies are typically filled with fairytale romances that end with a guy on a white horse saving a girl and they get married and live in a castle and have babies, fairytale shit. The Bachelorette is a show where a person is tasked with picking who they are going to marry out of a group of contestants after having said contestants play ridiculous games and humiliate themselves to show they are good enough for them and each episode you can win a date and at the end of each episode somebody is kicked off....It's....gross, but a lot of people love it and see it as fairytale romantic somehow.

Nathan likes both of these things, like a lot and that's interesting to me.

I think because Nathan more or less grew up around with average parents who stayed together and kept fighting in front of him to the minimum and seemed to love each other more or less a part of him even if he isn't super open about it has always planned on getting married, just assumed that it would happen. It happened for his parents so why not him? It's a thing people seem to just end up doing and he seems like he does actually want to do it.

The problem is that....Nathan doesn't get into healthy romantic relationships. We only really see him in two romantic relationships within the show and both of them are dangerously unhealthy for him.

The first is with Rebecca who like Nathan is a celebrity, except Rebecca is a horrible violent spoiled woman from a shitty family. She's verbally abusive towards Nathan, her parents seem to just use him as a mover and don't seem to treat him like a person at all, she treats him like a prop that she screams at and at one point calls him a slur. Nathan even admits to his friends that he hates her, but he can't leave her because it's this messed up intense twisted hate and he would do anything she asked him to, and also he's scared of her. He doesn't even break up with her, she ends up in a coma shortly after calling him said racial slur and he sticks by her side....until a tennis player takes her from him. I'm going to be honest if she had woken from the coma I think she wouldn't have cared Nathan stayed by her side and she would have dumped him or went back to abusing him.

The second romance we see is in season four. He dates a fan named Trindle which is very interesting. He chose a woman who is very intensely obsessed with him which to most people is a red flag and not something you do, and it's explained as an issue of ego. Him loving that this chick worships him, but I think it's more than that.

Trindle loves him....Well technically Trindle is mentally unstable and just loves the idea of him and doesn't actually care at all about him as a person, but Nathan doesn't seem to be capable of grasping that despite his friends realizing that immediately after meeting her. As far as Nathan is concerned with Trindle she loves him, she's obsessed with him, like deeply obsessed with him so she would never insult him or cheat on him as far as he believes, he even goes out of his way to prove to his friends she wouldn't cheat on him despite him clearly knowing deep down that....she would and did.

Nathan wants to be loved, he wants somebody to love him and see him and care about him and just accept him as who he is. Rebecca was a celebrity like himself so he assumed it could work, but she saw herself as superior to him and treated him like hired help. Trindle was an obsessed fan so he assumed she would love and appreciate him no matter what since she revolved her existence around him, but she didn't care about him. At all.

This isn't....Completely coming from a place of shipping saying this, but the only stable long term relationship of any kind we see Nathan in throughout the series is with Pickles. Pickles and Nathan are seen especially by season four as the band parents, it's just a thing. Pickles and Nathan throughout the series especially by season three and four act as if they are a married couple, a couple that have been together for a very long time. Pickles is the only person we see him with through the show who accepts him as much as he can, there's things that annoy him and piss him off, but he still for the most part stands by his side until after the finale of season three when their friendship takes a major hit due to the destruction of their album.

which leads to Abigail.

Abigail like Pickles is the first person we see Nathan interact with that he connects with. She isn't an obsessed fan, she might not even be a fan of them at all. She isn't a celebrity or a socialite so she doesn't see herself above him, she sees him as her equal and a slight pain in the ass. When we see Abigail and Nathan talk it feels like how he is with Pickles when they discuss work or when they're bickering, it feels natural, and like they're a couple. When Nathan does finally get intimate with Abigail he seems to fall immediately into the mindset that they're in love, that she's his girlfriend, and that he's going to marry her and they'll have babies and be together forever.

Which is a lot considering they hooked up one time and she kept dodging his calls and texts for days after that one time, but this is Nathan and Nathan like Toki seems to throw himself hard into this concept of true love and fairytale romance where something happens between you and this other person so now you guys are destined to be together forever.

Is it realistic? God no, but it seems to be the way Nathan views romance. I think if Trindle hadn't been kind of violently unstable Nathan would have still tried to work things out with her, I mean he stayed with a woman in a coma who did nothing but abuse him. He's a very loyal person even when he really shouldn't be.

What is also interesting with all three instances is that Nathan immediately throws his friends to the side in all three cases and we see this wear on them as the series goes on.

With Rebecca while they're all pissed off and uncomfortable with his relationship with her they do end up intervening....AKA they beat the shit out of him and threaten to shoot him in the dick if he doesn't break things off with her. It is the fact they had to resort to torturing him to get him to even listen to them or explain to them why he was with a woman who made him very clearly miserable. Nathan shut himself off from his friends in favor for Rebecca.

He does the same with Trindle. he throws himself into his relationship with her and we see him almost never around his friends, he's almost always with her and when he is with his friends he has Trindle right there with him most of the time. He's clearly not okay when they try and tell him that she's dangerous and that she has a history of dating guys who look even vaguely like him and then most probably killing them. He wants to prove to them that she's innocent and she wouldn't hurt anybody and she definitely would never cheat on him and she does love him, but even when he says it he's clearly not even buying that shit himself. He just....doesn't want to accept he fucked up and that this isnt real or healthy.

With Abigail it reaches a boiling over point. He's for the millionth time destroyed another one of their albums and refused to give them the real reason or any reason at all for it, everybody in their own ways have been falling apart through season four, and then he hooks up with Abigail. Who he is determined is the love of his life and you can see Pickles pissed off about a million different things regarding Nathan and you can see the others have that clear "this is crazy" feeling about Nathan thinking he's involved with a woman who won't return his calls.

What does make Abigail different from the previous women is that she does like Nathan, she is attracted to him, and likes him as a person. The thing is though what turned her off is that he kept putting her before his friends, that he was willing to throw his band and his friends and the music to the side to pursue a fantasy with her that she never agreed to. I think if he'd not done his typical panic and throw himself head first into a full on romance with a woman he barely knows then she would have been more willing to date him. By the funeral episode she seemed interested, because he showed emotion. Because he was willing to stand there in front of a ton of people and apologize to his best friend and admit that he was being a dick and that for once he does value his friends over a girl.

Which is why I do like the concept of Abigail and Nathan as a couple because she didn't just say 'fuck it' and date him. She's into him, but she can't stand the weird celeb douche thing he does where he shuts out the people who he's known for years who do obviously care about him. She's the first woman we've seen him with who actually likes the real him, the version the other two didn't like or just didn't care about at all.

I know it's not much in terms of analysis, but it just is something I kind of noticed with Nathan that he's this awkward large metal dude who is deep down into romance and true love despite acting like he doesn't like that sort of thing. I also like the development of him finally putting his friends first instead of throwing them aside for a girl, I also totally would love Nathan, Pickles, and Abigail to have a poly relationship because y'know....sometimes that's the answer to like a lot of problems and he has great chemistry with them both.

[queenofthefallenangels]

Think Twice Part 15

Jon Moxley/ Dean Ambrose x OC X Seth Rollins 

Rated: M

Warnings: None just sadly not much Jon. 

Tag: @abadamn​

Aria

My walk home was flooded by memories and flashbacks. Everything that I had still forgotten was coming back. Everything with Dean, from the kiss to my crush on him. He was the one who I always wanted to date, but I never thought he would give me the time of day. Back before we became friends, he was sort of a player. He had tons of girls on his arm. I was nothing like those girls. They were sexy and loved to show off their bodies. They had confidence in themselves. They also didn’t live in their father’s shadows all the time. They were the perfect girls for him. Now, I don’t even deserve him. His smooth freshly shaved skin had now grown into his beard. I couldn’t tell which I liked him more. I had to say there was something about him with a beard that I just could get enough of. Something about it just made him seem more masculine and manly.  It felt even better down there. 

I still couldn’t believe I had been fooled by him. He barely changed his look. It was how he knew my favorite flower and called me, kitten. The only other person to call me kitten was Dean. I rarely even heard that pet name outside of him and maybe a couple of books. It was why I felt special when Dean gave it to me. I was the only one that he called that. I was his kitten.

I sighed, feeling tears in my eyes again. I had gone home and changed clothes from last night into black leggings and an old baggy t-shirt. I didn’t bother to do my makeup. I knew I was going to be crying on and off all day. I called into work and took another day off. I knew I was going to need it after the morning I had. I wouldn’t be able to get an ounce of work done.  I didn’t want to believe that what Dean had said in the letter had been true. Seth couldn’t have been a part of my father’s death, right? There was no way that he could. I hoped so badly that Dean was wrong about what had happened between them. 

The walk to Seth’s gym felt longer than usual. I couldn’t stop crying the whole way there. Once I walked up to the building, I did my best to clean myself up, wiping my eyes before heading in. It had been in vain though, as soon as I walked into the class that Seth was teaching and saw him there, I felt like crying all over again. He had his long black hair pulled back into a low bun. He wore a shirt with the sleeves cut out of them and some blue basketball shorts. His attention was fixed on his students. I sat back in the back, trying my best to blend in. It had been a while since I saw him teach a class. Most likely right before my accident so over a year. It was one thing I could tell that he loved. It didn’t even matter what he was teaching or what age group, he loved to do it. Fitness was something he took seriously and he liked to help others take it seriously too. He always pushed me to eat better and join one of his crazy diets with him. He would say that there is nothing wrong with me, but it wouldn’t hurt to eat healthily. I always hated his diets, because he never believed in a cheat day. I craved all the foods that he never wanted me to eat. He would tell me how they have too many fats or it was too late to be eating that. I hated him sometimes for it, but I knew it was for my own good.  

His eyes flickered to me. “Alright guys, I am going to let you off early today. You guys did some good work today.” He dismissed his class before he walked towards where I was standing. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb your class.” 

He shook his head, “Nonsense, you are always welcome.” He said kissing my forehead. I did my best to not cringe at his touch. “Would you like to go to my office to talk about what is going on?” He said as he whipped a loose tear from his eyes. I nodded. He touched my waist as he led me to his office. On his way to the office, he stopped and grabbed a water bottle. He opened the door for me as I stepped inside. It was only a week ago, but it felt longer for some reason since I had been in his office. I didn’t want to think about what happened last time. 

Seth crossed off to his desk, sitting on the edge. “So, what brings you here, Aria?” He asked before taking a big drink. 

I opened my mouth, but it suddenly had become dry, “I found out some things today.” I took a deep breath. “How long have you known about Dean?” 

He raised an eyebrow, “What do you mean Dean?” He asked his question carefully. His eyes stayed on mine. “I thought he was in Ohio or something.” 

“Don’t play games with me, Seth. I know you know who Eli really is. That’s why you warned me to not go near him. I always wondered how you could possibly know him. You haven’t really been around the ring in a while. Unless that was a lie too. I wouldn’t put it past you.”  

Watch your mouth.” Seth snapped. “I apologized for all the wrong that I have done to you. How many more times are you going to bring it up just to force me to apologize?” 

“Until it sounds like you mean it,” I snapped back. “Why did you keep his secret for him if you are so against him? Unless,” I said as I reached into my bag. “Unless he had a secret about you that could ruin your chances with me ever again.” I slammed the note on the desk. “I cannot believe you would do such a thing.” 

Seth took the note and read it. I could see the anger turn into something else. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but it might be remorseful. “Aria, there is a lot you don’t understand about that.” He began, but I quickly shut him down. 

“So, you killed him. You and Charles killed my father.” The tears were coming up again in my eyes. “How-how could you do that to me? Were you that hell-bent on getting control of me that you would kill the only family I had left?” 

He shook his head, “No, of course not. Aria, this wasn’t about me trying to gain control of our relationship. This was about me protecting you.” 

“Protecting me? Protecting me from what?” 

“My father!” Seth said as he stood from the desk. He walked over to where I was sitting and got down on his knees. He was eye level with me. When I tried to look away, he forced me back to look at him. His finger hooked with the bottom of my chin pulling my back to his dark brown eyes. “He wanted to hurt you. Your father was thinking about leaving us and taking you with him. My father had a lot riding on this. He thought if he could hurt you, it would make him reconsider. I begged him not to do it. I couldn’t stand the idea of something happening to you. It wouldn’t be pretty. I wanted you to be safe. I would never be able to forgive myself if something happened to you.” 

“What about the car accident?” I asked. I was trying to put all the pieces of this puzzle together. I felt like I was trying to put two different puzzles together with no boxes, but all the pieces were in the same pile. 

“That hit was meant for Dean. It was never meant for you. I hated myself that you got hurt by that.” He rubbed his thumb against my chin. “I never knew that you would be going near him that night.” 

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” I stood up from where I was sitting. “That doesn’t change the fact that you went after him. For what? What did he do to you? Was it because you found out about the kiss? His feelings?” 

“It should have been,” Seth growled low. “It should have been all of that. I told you a million times to stay away from him. Did you listen? No. You said that he would never do anything that interferes with our relationship. Well, imagine my surprise when I am right that he would do something and you should have stayed away in the first place. This note proves it.” He said taking the note off the desk and throwing it at me. “Aria, all I have ever wanted to do is protect you from getting hurt.” 

“Well, you should have protected me from you!” I snapped. “You hurt me in ways that I can’t begin to explain. You did it so easily that you would think that you enjoyed hurting me. First the cheating and now my father. Do you even see how this could hurt me in so many ways? Then hiding it all with your stupid lies.  I wouldn’t have been even able to see all this if it wasn’t for..” I stopped. How could I be so blind to all of this?   

“And, what if I told you that some of those stories about me cheating were made up by someone who was jealous that I got you first?” He crossed his arms leaning against the desk. “The only one that is real is Becky. That one I will say sorry for. The rest are lies.” 

“How do I know that?” I said. I didn’t want to believe him. 

“Well, did you have any proof? You had proof of Becky. It was right there on my phone. Which you would have never even thought of looking at, if Alexa didn’t fill your head with lies and tell you to leave me.” 

“What are you getting at, Seth?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Think, Aria, Think. The same people who want you to think I am the bad guy are the same ones who lied to you and made up this whole charade with Dean being Jon. Dean basically tricked you into bed with him.” 

I shook my head. “He said it was a mistake. He didn’t think it would happen.” 

Seth tsked softly at me. “Of course he is going to tell you that. No man will admit they planned to trick someone into having sex with them. That would be horrible. Dean wants to be the good guy here. That’s why he makes me look like the bad guy.” 

I froze thinking for a moment. Then I looked up at him, looking him dead in the eyes. “You tricked me. You have been trying to trick me into coming back in your office so that we can fuck and make up already.” I held up my hand when I saw him try to speak. “You are the bad guy though. I am not saying Dean is the good guy in all of this, but you still had a hand in my father’s death. I didn’t forget this. You tried to trick me. You are always trying to trick me. You killed my father and messed with my memory.” 

“I also didn’t wear protection last time we had sex.” 

I stopped, “What? What does that have to do with anything? I am on the…” 

“Pill. You left it at my house. Funny, I don’t think that works if you don’t take it every day at the exact same time. It has been a long time since you were at my house taking it on the regular.” 

“You tricked me again. You tried to knock me up!” My fist clenched though I was trying to resist the urge to smack him across the face. I couldn’t believe how stupid I was. How blind I had been to everyone and everything. I didn’t know who I could trust anymore. Seth could still be right about a lot, but it was hard to tell what was a lie and what the truth was within him. The lines were so thin. It didn’t even matter if he was telling the truth or not. He still helped kill my father and tried to trick my memory.

“Well, I mean we got a couple of weeks before the signs of pregnancy start. You don’t know if you had the baby yet or not.” 

I shook my head in dismay. “I cannot believe it.” I turned to walk out the door. 

“I am giving you a family, isn’t that the one thing that you always wanted. You always wanted a family.” 

“You took my family away from me, Seth! You killed my father. I don’t even care why anymore.” 

“It was an acc-” 

“Save it,” I said, stopping him in his tracks. “I don’t care what it was. It was the worst thing you could ever do to me. Baby or no baby, we are never going to get back together.” I marched out of the office. I didn’t want to know the details anymore. It wasn’t worth the heartbreak over. I was better off not knowing why my father had to die. 

Now there was a bigger problem, where was I going to go tonight? I couldn’t stand to look at Alexa after everything that came out. I needed some time away from everyone. I knew I would have to see her at work, but that was enough for me right now. I needed more alone time. I stopped at the bus stop so that I could get to the nearest hotel...at least for tonight.

[chews-erotically]

Waxing Gibbous 

Pairing: Ezra + femNurse! Reader

Rating: Hard M / 18+ ONLY

       * Warnings: Angst/ mentions of childhood trauma/ mention of domestic abuse, violence/ killing both in- and unintentional/ SMUT/ hand job/ fingering/ mentions of partner-sharing, threesomes/ PTSD/ nightmares

      * Summary: Confessions of sin and of desires.

      * Word Count: ~2200

*Part ONE* *Part TWO* *Part THREE* *Part FOUR* *Part FIVE**Part SIX*        *Part SEVEN*  *Part EIGHT*  *Part NINE*  *Part TEN*  *Part ELEVEN*  *Part TWELVE*

 PART THIRTEEN

    The weather on Central turned cool as the months stretched on. You’d realized after the bar that you had perhaps pushed too far, too soon. You’d both retreated back to the sanctuary of your home to regroup. The insidious nightmares continued for you, though nowhere near the level of intensity of the first. You continued to sleep with the lights on, limbs entangled with Ezra’s. You held on to one another, fingers drifting over pulse points, entwining fingers and legs. Two halves of some damaged whole.

    You’d found some solace in cooking. You had gone so long without anything more than the nutritionally dense, yet bland and uninspired nutribars and ration packs that you were desperate to experiment. It was slow going at first, but Ezra was far from selective with what he’d eat. He devoured everything you put in front of him, even burnt and strangely seasoned. He offered profuse compliments that expounded upon his good fortune in having found someone so willing to graciously cook for him. It always made you snort, but you appreciated the fact that he was supportive.

    Ezra had begun writing an autobiography of sorts. You often heard his dictation well into the stretch of your afternoons, his voice animating into flights of vivid imagery and florid, expounding descriptions. He dictated, but he also typed, pecking with the pointer fingers of each hand. You knew that when he was typing he was not to be disturbed. He never said it outright, but you knew that he typed because he could not bring to life the horrors he’d both witnessed and committed, he could not convince himself to speak of things he’d done that would shake the foundations of a kinder man’s moral compass.

    You were not privy to those thoughts. You stayed away, you respected his need to keep that part of him tucked away. You knew it was his way of working through it, of processing the deeds that had led him to what seemed in the reaches of his mind to be an unearned reward. He would tell you in his own time, you did not press or push him as you knew better than most how fragile peace of mind could be. You would allow him any indulgence that may work to keep the dreams away.

    When Ezra had a nightmare, you were most often awoken by a keening whine between clenching teeth. He did not thrash as you did, rather he’d lie beside you as if paralyzed. You had to talk to him to bring him back, coaxing his rigid muscles to loosen with careful, even strokes of your palms across his limbs and torso. 

    “Come back to me, love. You’re not back there. You’re here with me.”

    He would reemerge from his fathomless depths gasping, and reach out to you, winding his limbs through yours as a thistle seeks to weave itself into the wind that caresses it.

    You moved your hand to his chest, felt the frantic pounding beneath his breast. Like a trapped bird desperate to escape. You smoothed your fingers across the expanse of his bare chest, his skin warm and alive, thrumming. Present. And then lower, rubbed against the soft curve of his belly as its panicked heaving incrementally slowed.

    Lower still to the soft curls beneath his navel. Your fingers wove through the hair, teasing the skin with your nails. Ezra huffed, eyes fluttering. He turned his head toward you, knocking his forehead against yours.

    “My Dove….the succubi had their talons hooked into my tattered soul once again, I’m afraid.”

    You leaned forward and kissed him softly. His hitching exhale made its home within your mouth.

    “Is there nothing I can do to take this away, Ezra? Nothing I can offer you that will soothe you?”

    Your finger dipped down, lightly tracing the curve of his half-hard cock. You felt it twitch, followed by Ezra’s sharp intake of breath.

    “The demons that consume the nether regions of my addled mind cannot be placated so easily, Dove. The things I have done, the wretched life I’ve lived would leave you without thought of staying. My greatest fear is your discovering the nefarious deeds of my past, of learning exactly who it is that you lie willingly next to in this bed.”

    “I know who I lie next to, Ezra. I lie next to a man who decided to trust me, who gave me my voice back and showed me that I am worthy of love. That will never change. No matter what sins you’ve committed, I can stop loving you no more than I can keep the moon from waxing and waning.” Your hand encircled his length, rubbing gently. You trailed kisses across his shoulder as he gasped. He reached a hand to cover yours, stilling your actions momentarily. He paused for what seemed an impossibly long beat, seeming to consider his next words to you.

    “When I was a child in Louisiana we were poor. Mama worked three jobs to keep food on the table and a roof over our heads. My father was a drunk, shiftless sonofabitch. He put his hands on Mama and on me and Isaiah like clockwork when his life did not go his way. It did not go his way often. One night, he was really workin’ Mama over something awful. Isaiah was out in the shed fiddlin’ with an old transistor we found earlier that day at the salvage yard. I was alone in the house and Father had his hands around Mama’s neck.

    “She was strugglin’ and kicking at his knees, wherever she could reach, but Father wouldn’t stop. When he maneuvered close enough to the root cellar I saw my chance. I ran and I screamed, as loud as I could, and I shoved up against Father with all of the force I could muster. A meager show, to be sure, but Father was well on his way to obliterated by that time. He was just unsteady enough on his feet to topple forward down the steps. I heard his neck snap like a twig and he was dead before he hit the dirt. Mama and I told Isaiah it was an accident. But the truth is, Dovie, I took a life for the first time when I was nine years old.”

    Your hand raised from his groin to cup his cheek, your throat constricting around the lump forming there.

    “You were just a little boy, Ezra, scared for his Mama. You were protecting her. He may have killed her that day, if not for you.”

    His eyes narrowed, his voice thick with emotion. “That day set my path. I knew that I was not fortunate. I hated that I didn’t have what others were so freely given. I was born under a bad star, under an awning of misfortune. I was determined from that day forward to do whatever it took to survive. Kill, maim, steal. I have sold my soul a million times over to ensure my own victory in all my ensuing endeavors.”

    When he paused to collect his thoughts further, your hand drifted back down to his groin. He was now fully erect, and you felt the precum beading at the tip of his cock. He was hot, unbelievably so, and his eyes squeezed shut with a low groan as you swept your thumb through the slick of his crown. His head tipped back into his pillow. He resumed his confessions with a straining voice.

    “Later on, when Isaiah and I began prospecting as a means of finding our fortunes, we often found ourselves on the wrong end of an underhanded deal. We were green, and we were easy marks. We were swindled, robbed and double-crossed more than I care to admit, Dove. It took me a fair amount of time to become just as ruthless as those who would venture to hoodwink myself and my partner. The first time I killed on a job, it was a woman who thought she could bewitch and seduce me. Isaiah had overheard her plans with her partner to satiate my carnal desires before making off with my haul in the dead of night. I saw the knife in her hand as she tried her best to take my cock down her throat. I wrested it from her and used it to penetrate her chest. The third intercostal space of the ribcage houses an anatomical landmark known as Erb’s Point. Her own weapon found its home at the apex of her heart, and she bled out summarily.”

    His breathing was becoming more shallow,  his exhales more explosive as you continued to stroke him as he spoke, reaching every so often lower still to cup and gently roll his balls, which were steadily drawing themselves up, tightening against his tensing body. He canted his hips up into the air as you worked him. He rasped out a stuttering groan and panted up into the ceiling before whipping his head toward you, turning his body onto its side in the bed beside yours.

    “You know by now….”

    (gasp)

    “Isaiah was stabbed and left to die in an alley. It was the work of that woman’s partner. While I…”

    (groan)

    “While a did heartily mourn the loss of my only sibling, I could not….Kevva, girl….I could not begrudge him his need for karmic justice.”

    You brought your palm to your mouth, licked a wide, lascivious stripe from the base of your palm to the tips of your fingers. Ezra’s hand found your hip and squeezed. His eyes were dark, lust-filled and far away. He was lost in his reverie while consumed with your ministrations.

    “Keep going, sweetheart,” you soothed to him, nipping at the junction of his neck and shoulder. “I’ll take it from you. Don’t hold it back..”

    He answered with a full-body shudder, teeth catching his lip. He swelled and twitched and leaked into your eager hand; you knew he was close. He canted his lips to the cusp of your ear, breath hitching, stirring the hair there like chaffs of wheat in summer wind.

    “I found...myself alone and so I was available to partner up with whomever I could find that I deemed beneficial on my various excursions. I...fuck, I….found myself attached to a most open arrangement related to a job I signed up for on the Pug. A married couple, male and female. They….they both took a shine to my proselytizing, indeed they each became in short order equally enamored with...other more physical aspects of my prowesssweetmother….”

    His canting hips began an erratic stutter as your hand squeezed and stroked and twisted around his turgid cock. Your own breath became thick and shallow, a pool of arousal collecting at your center that you soon felt drooling onto the flesh of your inner thighs. You nipped at his jawline as his eyes fluttered shut, eyebrows knit together, mouth open as he embraced the divine sensations you were giving him.

    “Ezra….” you moaned against him. “Ezra, did you fuck them? Tell me how you fucked them…”

    “Always….shit….always together. That was the agreement. His cock in my mouth, her mouth on my cock… oh my gods sweetheart I’m close….he’d eat her pussy while I fucked his tight ass….she...fuck meee...she loved a hard cock in her cunt and in her ass at the same tiiiimme…..oh Jesus Dove FUCK.”

    His hips thrust and stuttered, his balls drawn taut and tight as he spilled into your hand. He buried his face in your neck and moaned, whimpered, as his seed came forth hot and thick to paint your palm and fingers.

    When he finally stilled, you brought the mess he’d made to your lips and made a show of licking every finger before lapping at your palm to clean it thoroughly.

    Ezra’s fingers found themselves parting your soaked, swollen folds as you gasped against his mouth, your tongue licking in to caress his teeth, to tangle with the slick velvet of his own talented instrument.

    “I want that, Ezra,” you groaned against his hot mouth. “I want that with you...I want you to watch me while I lick a cunt. I want to gag on someone else’s cock for you. Perform for you. I want to watch you get fucked in that beautiful ass….” you keened as two of his fingers entered your twitching, weeping hole. Ezra watched your face, eyes wide and mouth open, as he processed the frantic, lust-soaked words that spilled from your lips unabashed in their filth.

    “Is that what you desire my love? To explore the whims of the Satyr, to share the pleasure of other willing bodies with one another?”

    “Fuck yes, Ezra…” you sobbed against his flexing bicep as his fingers and palm worked you toward your own rapid petit mort.

    “Kevva wept, Dove, then you shall have it.”

tag list:  @ifimayhaveaword, @rzrcrst, @absurdthirst, @cinewhore, @hopelikethesun, @yespolkadotkitty, @sin-djarin, @lackofhonor, @din-damn-djarin, @mrpascals, @theocatkov, @thefineandnobleartofavoidance, @hellojustheretolookatmeemees, @cyaredindjarin, @im-like-reallythirsty, @mstgsmy, @goldafterglow, @givemethatgold, @shaqbutt, @sirianisrock, @artemiseamoon, @thatreclusewriter, @scribbledghost, @f0rever15elf, @opheliaelysia, @qveenbvtch, @hdlynn, @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa, @spacegayofficial, @ezraslittlebirdie, @ezrasarm, @ezraslittleblondestreak, @tintinwrites, @kindablackenedsuperhero, @darthadeline, @alexisinorbit, @knittingqueen13, @lueurnotes, @xakilicious, @keeper0fthestars, @huliabitch, @di-kut, @zombieaurora, @corrupt-fvcker, @cryptkeepersoul, @teaofpeach, @thestreamergirl, @frannyzooey, @mndalorians, @sistasarah-sallysaidso, @autumnleaves1991-blog, @heatherbel, @the-feckless-wonder, @millllenniawrites, @revolution-starter, @melon-eyes 

[phoebosacerales]

The 6th house in Astrology

I thought I'd just share this excerpt from "The Plague", which feels like a whole lesson on the 6th house, while also being very relevant in these times of covid-19. It says a lot more than I could ever try to say and explain about the joy of Mars.

"The word 'plague' had just been uttered for the first time. At this stage of the narrative, with Dr. Bernard Rieux standing at his window, the narrator may, perhaps, be allowed to justify the doctor's uncertainty and surprise, since, with very slight differences, his reaction was the same as that of the great majority of our townsfolk. Everybody knows that pestilences have a way of recurring in the world; yet somehow we find it hard to believe in ones that crash down on our heads from a blue sky. There have been as many plagues as wars in history; yet always plagues and wars take people equally by surprise.

In fact, like our fellow citizens, Rieux was caught off his guard, and we should understand his hesitations in the light of this fact; and similarly understand how he was torn between conflicting fears and confidence. When a war breaks out, people say: 'It's too stupid; it can't last long.' But though a war may well be 'too stupid', that doesn't prevent its lasting. Stupidity has a knack of getting its way; as we should see if we were not always so much wrapped up in ourselves.

In this respect our townsfolk were like everybody else, wrapped up in themselves; in other words they were humanists: they disbelieved in pestilences.

A pestilence isn't a thing made to man's measure; therefore we tell ourselves that pestilence is a mere bogy of the mind, a bad dream that will pass away. But it doesn't always pass away and, from one bad dream to another, it is men who pass away, and the humanists first of all, because they haven't taken their precautions.

Our townsfolk were not more to blame than others; they forgot to be modest, that was all, and thought that everything still was possible for them; which presupposed that pestilences were impossible. They went on doing business, arranged for journeys, and formed views. How should they have given a thought to anything like plague, which rules out any future, cancels journeys, silences the exchange of views. They fancied themselves free, and no one will ever be free so long as there are pestilences.

Indeed, even after Dr. Rieux had admitted in his friend's company that a handful of persons, scattered about the town, had without warning died of plague, the danger still remained fantastically unreal. For the simple reason that, when a man is a doctor, he comes to have his own ideas of physical suffering, and to acquire somewhat more imagination than the average. Looking from his window at the town, outwardly quite unchanged, the doctor felt little more than a faint qualm for the future, a vague unease.

He tried to recall what he had read about the disease. Figures floated across his memory, and he recalled that some thirty or so great plagues known to history had accounted for nearly a hundred million deaths. But what are a hundred million deaths? When one has served in a war, one hardly knows what a dead man is, after a while. And since a dead man has no substance unless one has actually seen him dead, a hundred million corpses broadcast through history are no more than a puff of smoke in the imagination. The doctor remembered the plague at Constantinople that, according to Procopius, caused ten thousand deaths in a single day. Ten thousand dead made about five times the audience in a biggish cinema. Yes, that was how it should be done. You should collect the people at the exits of five picture-houses, you should lead them to a city square and make them die in heaps if you wanted to get a clear notion of what it means. Then at least you could add some familiar faces to the anonymous mass. But naturally that was impossible to put into practice; moreover, what man knows ten thousand faces? In any case the figures of those old historians, like Procopius, weren't to be relied on; that was common knowledge. Seventy years ago, at Canton, forty thousand rats died of plague before the disease spread to the inhabitants. But, again, in the Canton epidemic there was no reliable way of counting up the rats. A very rough estimate was all that could be made, with, obviously, a wide margin for error.

'Let's see,' the doctor murmured to himself, "supposing the length of a rat to be ten inches, forty thousand rats placed end to end would make a line of...'

He pulled himself up sharply. He was letting his imagination play pranks, the last thing wanted just now. A few cases, he told himself, don't make an epidemic; they merely call for serious precautions. He must fix his mind, first of all, on the observed facts: stupor and extreme prostration, buboes, intense thirst, delirium, dark blotches on the body, internal dilatation, and, in conclusion... In conclusion, some words came back to the doctor's mind; aptly enough, the concluding sentence of the description of the symptoms given in his medical handbook: 'The pulse becomes fluttering, dicrotic, and intermittent, and death ensues as the result of the slightest movement.' Yes, in conclusion, the patient's life hung on a thread, and three people out of four (he remembered the exact figures) were too impatient not to make the very slight movement that snapped the thread.

The doctor was still looking out of the window. Beyond it lay the tranquil radiance of a cool spring sky; inside the room a word was echoing still, the word 'plague'. A word that conjured up in the doctor's mind not only what science chose to put into it, but a whole series of fantastic possibilities utterly out of keeping with that gray and yellow town under his eyes, from which were rising the sounds of mild activity characteristic of the hour; a drone rather than a bustling, the noises of a happy town, in short, if it's possible to be at once so dull and happy. A tranquillity so casual and thoughtless seemed almost effortlessly to give the lie to those old pictures of the plague: Athens, a charnel-house reeking to heaven and deserted even by the birds; Chinese towns cluttered up with victims silent in their agony; the convicts at Marseille piling rotting corpses into pits; the building of the Great Wall in Provence to fend off the furious plague-wind; the damp, putrefying pallets stuck to the mud floor at the Constantinople lazar-house, where the patients were hauled up from their beds with hooks; the carnival of masked doctors at the Black Death; men and women copulating in the cemeteries of Milan; cartloads of dead bodies rumbling through London's ghoul-haunted darkness, nights and days filled always, everywhere, with the eternal cry of human pain. No, all those horrors were not near enough as yet even to ruffle the equanimity of that spring afternoon. The clang of an unseen streetcar came through the window, briskly refuting cruelty and pain. Only the sea, murmurous behind the dingy checkerboard of houses, told of the unrest, the precariousness, of all things in this world. And, gazing in the direction of the bay, Dr. Rieux called to mind the plague-fires of which Lucretius tells, which the Athenians kindled on the seashore. The dead were brought there after nightfall, but there was not room enough, and the living fought one another with torches for a space where to lay those who had been dear to them; for they had rather engage in bloody conflicts than abandon their dead to the waves. A picture rose before him of the red glow of the pyres mirrored on a wine-dark, slumbrous sea, battling torches whirling sparks across the darkness, and thick, fetid smoke rising toward the watchful sky. Yes, it was not beyond the bounds of possibility....

But these extravagant forebodings dwindled in the light of reason. True, the word 'plague had been uttered; true, at this very moment one or two victims were being seized and laid low by the disease. Still, that could stop, or be stopped. It was only a matter of lucidly recognizing what had to be recognized; of dispelling extraneous shadows and doing what needed to be done. Then the plague would come to an end, because it was unthinkable, or, rather, because one thought of it on misleading lines. If, as was most likely, it died out, all would be well. If not, one would know it anyhow for what it was and what steps should be taken for coping with and finally overcoming it.

The doctor opened the window, and at once the noises of the town grew louder.

The brief, intermittent sibilance of a machine-saw came from a near-by workshop.

Rieux pulled himself together. There lay certitude; there, in the daily round.

All the rest hung on mere threads and trivial contingencies; you couldn't waste your time on it. The thing was to do your job as it should be done."

"The Plague", by Albert Camus.

[juvinile]

* LÉO  DAUDIN ,  CIS MALE  +  HE / HIM  |   you  know  XAVIER  HUGHES ,  right ?  they’re  TWENTY - FOUR ,  and  they’ve  lived  in  irving  for ,  like ,  THEIR  WHOLE  LIFE ?  well ,  their  spotify  wrapped  says  they  listened  to  SAY  SAY  BY  YOUNGBLOOD  HAWKE  like ,  a  million  times  this  year ,  which  makes  sense  ‘cause  they’ve  got  that  whole  TRIPPING  OVER  LACES  YOU  KNOW  YOU  REMEMBERED  TO  TIE ,  THE  DULL  VACUUM  OF  GETTING  THE  WIND  KNOCKED  OUT  OF  YOU ,  SQUEEZING  CONSTELLATIONS  TOGETHER  TO  MAP  OUT  YOUR  FEATURES  thing  going  on .  i  just  checked  and  their  birthday  is  APRIL  30TH ,  so  they’re  a  TAURUS ,  which  is  unsurprising ,  all  things  considered .

TW  INCLUDE  anxiety tw, bullying tw, panic attack tw.

AESTHETICS :

tripping over laces you know you remembered to tie, the dull vacuum of getting the wind knocked out of you, squeezing constellations together to map out your features, chewing teeth and regret, sharp tongued anxiety like flames at your heels, bearing crushing disappointment with hard taught posture, shoving fists into your pockets, empty trophy cases collecting dust, a hazy fog of shame, reusing beer cans for whiskey, telescopes that see into the future, planets with more rings than people.

CHARACTER  INSPO :

patrick verona (10 things i hate about you), somehow both yuri’s (yuri on ice), jackson whittemore (teen wolf), tybalt (romeo and juliet), llewyn davis (inside llewyn davis), luther (umbrella academy. this one hurts to admit bt theres some parallels there. don’t execute me), haymitch abernathy (the hunger games), the premise of being an antihero, the trope of a bully that stops bullying ppl, scary looking dog that lives next door (my apartment)

GENERAL STATISTICS :

full name :  xavier donovan hughes

age / dob :  twenty four / april 30th

gender :  cis male

pronouns :  he / him

faceclaim :  léo daudin

orientation :  pansexual

residence :  orion avenue / delphinus heights

occupation :  zoinkies employee

pinterest :  HERE !

BIOGRAPHY :

they weren’t always irving natives, but no one can seem to recall when the hughes moved in to the big house at the end of the cul-de-sac on orion avenue. there’s probably a rational explanation for this but no one really bothers to find out. what a fun little moment of foreshadowing for xavier’s life. 

xavier was born in irving some time after the mysterious arrival of his parents. an only child, he would be the sole inheritor of the family estate (something they always told him and he was always like lmao what the fuck are u talking about). there’s probably a second home somewhere, maybe two or three, xavier assumes. makes sense because his parents were and are literally never home.

when they were home they were putting pressure on him to live up to some expectation that he wasn’t confident he could ever reach. he played like 5 different sports as a kid and was really good at most of them, but roadblocks would start to get in the way of that later.

he was also a really smart child but left to his own devices too much. grew up too fast and too slow simultaneously. he had a strict curfew, strict diet, manners classes, everything to prepare him for. what? 

xavier was a really smart child, blessed with private tutors and language coaches, a revolving door of adults to latch onto when his parents weren’t around. none of them permanent, and mastery of everything he did was always expected. 

in high school his parents refined their hopes for him. a soccer scholarship, xavier’s least favorite sport but the one with the most promise, the most room for growth and potential to make good on the hughes family name. he was instructed to quit everything else, even told to fall back in school if it was necessary. he repeated a grade. everything was harder then.

truthfully he’s really good a soccer, but he gets horrible anxiety before every match. it wasn’t along before that anxiety started spreading to. basically everything he did. 

lashed out at most people because he didn’t want to appear weak. was not a nice person in high school at all. had more enemies than friends and the friends he did have weren’t the most well liked people around, didn’t have the best reputations. didn’t want anyone to know how anxious he was so he forced himself out of his shell so much it hurt. 

his girlfriend cheated on him senior year with a guy he was unwilling to admit he kind of loved himself. it was the final straw that broke the camel’s back. he’d gotten a scholarship to a small in state school for soccer already and he played a season, literally did so bad. couldn’t even go to class because he was doing so bad. he got a second season chance to redeem himself and kind of shit the bed with that one too. lost his scholarship and his parents made him come home.

now that he’s back he does pretty much whatever he wants, and his parents pretend not to care (they’re never around to notice anyway) as long as he works a steady job. he’s officially really stuck in life with no backup plan for his future. all he knows right now is that he regrets the way he treated. pretty much everyone.

but forgiveness is never easy.

PERSONALITY :

extroverted. introspective. intelligent, philosophizing about the greater meaning of things. anxious, buried under a lot of deflective techniques. relatively keeps to himself. overworked and put out, most of the time, it seems. big fan of bottling things up and collecting these feelings on his shelf. good at small goals, horrible at the big picture stuff. not organized. defensive of and loyal to a close circle. regretful. slothful, lately. passionate, mostly about outer space and pole vaulting. soccer hater. 

WANTED CONNECTIONS :

people he bullied in school that still hate him and look at him weird when he crosses the street.

someone he was a dick to in school who he’s always fighting with now.

ex soccer team members ... ex track team members .. maybe one of them saw him have a panic attack before a match. keep it a secret between themselves.

people who crash at his house when his parents aren’t home (which is always)

people who think his family is involved in shady illegal shit (they could be, xavier doesn’t know what they’re always doing)

coworkers at zoinkies? he’s notoriously bad at his job because he literally doesn’t try at all but somehow doesnt get fired. pretty privilege probably

people who want to see the good in him idk soft 

hook ups he probably has a few but hes emotionally unavailable. recurring trend in my muses.

[tiedyexuxi]

Black Mamba | Seo Taewook

Black Mamba | Seo Taewook x Fem!Reader

NSFW, I honestly fried my brain while writing this. This monstrosity was 10 pages in a doc. Also related to the song of the same name by aespa. I also really like Taewook’s tattoos in some of his cards (I’m a die-hard sucker for men with tattoos) so that was the inspiration for this. I guess I’d call this semi-canon compliant but only to an extent, so you aren’t spoiled with something you don’t already know. I hope you enjoy it! Feedback is always appreciated. Requests are OPEN.

THE CURIOSITY HAD TO BE EATING her alive. Taewook could see it in the way she would send him curious, side-eyed looks when he was present for her shoots; the way she would edge to the corner of an elevator they shared so she could have a parallel view of both him and the door; the way she became blatantly unafraid of him when her mind was running a million miles a minute, eyes fixated on what she could make out of his eyes and then the tattoo peeking out above the collar of his crisp dress shirt.

She had been doing it for quite some time and he was certain she wasn’t aware she had been caught just yet. He found it highly entertaining to just watch her out of the corner of his eye while she stared: she had the most fascinating tics when she was thinking too hard. It usually started out with a furrow between her brows, the elegantly plucked hairs pulling down only slightly to express the thoughts running rampant in her head; then, it would slowly morph into the slightest gnawing of her cheek or lip depending on which road those thoughts had taken; the real hook was when she had almost decided on something and drew her lip into her mouth, holding it between her teeth until it was sore, deliciously red and bereft of the lipstick she had worn that morning.

It was almost like a game between them--albeit one with an undecided outcome. Taewook had long ago decided that playing the long version would be far more satisfying than anything he could have done in pressuring her to consider him as an option. The goblins who clung to her like their very existence depended on it had certainly thrown a wrench in his plans; after all, they recognized him for what he was: a threat. [Name], skittishness and slightly confrontational behavior aside, did not. It was laughable how in the dark they kept her by their own volition, or at least from Taehee’s side of things. When she came to him--and there was no if, he had made sure of that--Taewook had no intention of hiding it from her. After all, even if she didn’t come to him when her curiosity finally broke her, it would be interesting to drive a wedge between the five of them and watch as the show played out.

But, of course, he had to wait for that. [Name]’s debut was coming up and so all of the attention she had focused on him had been temporarily diverted to the public’s view of her and the occasional scathing review posted in an attempt to ruin the girl’s morale. Taewook, of course, had gotten his hands on the worst of the lot before they had been run. They now sat in a harddrive in a hidden compartment of his desk where no one would ever find it unless he wanted them to. Even still, he had to let some criticism past his tight security to keep up appearances--even if it kept [Name] up all night wondering what was wrong with her to make people hate her so much.

And then, as silent as a tsunami, it was time for [Name] to debut her first serial photos as an official model. Taewook had decided beforehand, on the decision of the board, to secure a small facility where they would invite reporters, high end magazine owners, and even news outlets to survey the model’s skills for themselves. Himself, [Name], several other investors, and a skeleton crew would be housed in the hotel across the street before the event; then, when it was over, they would retreat to a small banquet, and afterwards, retire for the night and wait for the articles to be posted.

It was a perfect plan. It was only fitting that [Name] herself ruin it in a glorious shower of sparks and a climax worthy of the ages.

TAEWOOK WAS DRIVING YOU INSANE. Only figuratively, of that you were certain, but you couldn’t drown your curiosity no matter how hard you tried. Thoughts of Taehee, Yooha, Biho, or Hansol did nothing to sway your wandering mind from Taewook. He was like a permanent, foreboding figure standing in the midst of your brain, domineering every single muse that darted past his greedy fingers. He would snatch them up and hold them in his hands like the leash of a particularly disobedient dog, then rip them to shreds and replace them with something of him, something that became a fixation even in your dreams.

All because of that gorgeous black ink crawling up the side of his neck.

You couldn’t help the way your brain had fixated on his tattoo the moment you noticed it. It had almost been an accident, really, when you became aware of it--like ‘oh, that’s really nice’ had escalated steadily into ‘I wonder if it hurt’ and most recently ‘how far down does it go?’. You had buckled down on your thoughts more after that, almost horrified at the turn they had taken, but you couldn’t stop your dreams no matter how hard you tried.

In the months you had been working for Taewook it had only gotten worse. It went from an innocent curiosity about his tattoo to deliberately admiring his eyes from a side profile, of which you could admit without any shame that it was a good one. Other women had parroted the same thing and so you could persuade yourself you were only repeating what they said back at him, as futile as it ended up being. Even in your meetings, with other people there, you couldn’t really tear your eyes away from him even if someone else was speaking.

Honestly, you were surprised he hadn’t caught you yet. But a niggling feeling in the back of your brain told you that he had noticed--you just didn’t know what to do about that and so you wiped it from your mind entirely, but the idea lingered and morphed into something else, something as equally as disturbing: he had noticed, but why wasn’t he saying anything about it?

You didn’t share your thoughts with the goblins. They were, after all, vehemently opposed to Taewook even being in your general vicinity. You almost wished you had a female friend to gush to about your issues, but before you could even find a reason to wonder why, your debut was already upon you.

You were thrown into a whirlwind of photoshoots, interviews, and even ad campaigns. Taewook, throughout all of it, remained on the sidelines, content to just watch--observe?--and let you make a mess of everything yourself. At least, that was what you assumed he was doing; Taewook’s motivations were still a mystery to you. He was like an itch you just couldn’t scratch no matter how hard you tried. He was, in short, an enigma, and that made your curiosity even more fixated on him, consequences be damned.

But your mind just wouldn’t let go of him, not even while Taehee occupied you during the banquet, wondering if you were going to come home with them or stay and mingle among the masses a little longer. You knew it didn’t sit well with him to leave you alone with Taewook in the same room, but you had assured him you would be fine and that if it came to it, you would have a room in the hotel with a lock on it. He didn’t seem all too pleased, but Hansol had pulled him away and they had left with excited farewells to you. You weren’t sure what had been so urgent to pull them away; Yooha hadn’t been very interested in the banquet, only you, but you had been monopolized for the better part of the night and he had been getting tired the more people came up to him to ask for his name and modeling agency.

And so you were alone for the better part of the night until everything was quietly wrapped up around one in the morning. Not once did Taewook approach you in the six hours it took to let everyone get what they wanted and you weren’t sure if that disappointed you more than the goblins had left so early.

“You must be dying in those heels,” one of the staff told you as you walked across the street with her to your hotel. There was no way you were riding a bus home in a thirty thousand dollar dress dripping with diamonds and swarovski crystals, much less in the killer heels they had put you in for the night. “How did you survive?”

“Barely,” you joked, but you knew it was because your mind had been elsewhere. Namely, on Taewook.

He had dressed to impress in a sharp suit with a tie designed to match your dress. How much of that had been forethought and simple coincidence escaped you; but you couldn’t help but notice him whenever he socialized with other high society people, smiling politely although it never reached his eyes. You had thought, almost smugly, that whenever he did smile at you, it did at least reach his eyes--and he had a nice smile, that much you could appreciate.

You were on a downward spiral the entire walk to your hotel room. You didn’t even have the energy to ridicule yourself for the thoughts you were having, or even blame Taewook’s magic--this was all you, and that was a fact you couldn’t deny.

You found your room easily enough. The skeleton crew had put your name on the door hook, but as you fished for the key in your purse, you eyes strayed to the other doors in the hallway. There were only two others but both were suites like your own, and only one had a name on it: Taewook. There were little lights on the locks that indicated the room was occupied, and his was lit up with green. You had to physically stop yourself from walking to the door with a quick pinch to your arm.

With a relieved sigh, you opened your door and kicked off your heels. Your toes sunk into the plush carpet, feeling oddly off balance, and you wormed your way out of the expensive dress and took the first struggle free breath you’d had for the night. You put the dress back in its cellophane bag and began wiping off the makeup, taking off the jewelry, and taking a quick shower so that you felt like yourself again.

You took a few minutes to post your pictures of the night on Wannabe, almost cringing at the likes that popped up the second you posted them. In a few of them, Taewook was in the background, but oddly enough his eyes were focused on you in every single one. You hadn’t even noticed he had been looking at you; he was always around other people and speaking to them.

“Huh,” you mumbled to yourself, bringing a lacquered nail between your teeth as you scrolled through the rest of the pictures in your camera roll. Sure enough he was looking at you in each one, almost peculiarly in a position where he was able to see you clearly over the heads of the people he was talking to. You hadn’t even realized he was that tall; but then again, you were never that close to him to find out. “Weird.”

You turned off your phone for the night and plugged it up to replenish the depleted battery. You thought about watching television, but the moment you laid down on the hotel bed you were hit with the image of Taewook’s face--and it wouldn’t go away. You screwed your eyes shut as hard as you were able until you were seeing fuzzy stars, but it wouldn’t go away. Your cheeks flushed hot with blood when you sat up, hair slightly disheveled, and stared into the mirror of a vanity. You just knew if you went to sleep you’d dream of him, and you couldn’t take that tonight.

So you took matters into your own hands.

You were knocking on his door before your brain had time to catch up with you. You didn’t even care that he was about to see you in your pajamas, plain as they were--you wanted him to stop bothering you in your dreams and every waking moment so you could actually get some rest for once.

When he opened the door, all of your irritation left you in a rush as your eyes darted over his face. He had probably just had a shower, judging by the way his hair was slightly damp, but he didn’t seem as remotely as tired as you were. In fact, he looked almost like he was alive, his eyes taking on an interesting glint as he took you in, standing at his door in your t-shirt and almost indecently skimpy shorts. You almost wanted the floor to swallow you up because all of your words had left you.

“[Name],” he said, a note of genuine surprise in his voice. You almost forgot how deep it was and it rattled you down to your core. “I would have thought you were asleep by now.”

What came out of your mouth made you want to cry out of embarrassment. “I want to see your tattoo.”

Taewook blinked at you for an almost infinite amount of time, staring you down--out of shock or bewilderment you didn’t know--and then visibly relaxing right in front of you. He leaned against the door frame and propped the door open with his foot, crossing his arms across his chest.

“You know, I was wondering when you would ask.” You had to swallow the spit that flooded your mouth when his lips quirked up in a half smile. “You certainly seemed interested in it.”

“Can I see it or not?” You demanded hotly. You couldn’t let yourself back out now. Your pride wouldn’t let you.

That little half smile turned into a smirk. “Testy.” He opened the door wider and stepped aside, jerking his chin towards the darkness of his room. You watched his throat bob with the movement. “Come in. I can’t very well show you in the hall.”

You walked inside without giving much thought to it. You honestly really should have, but your embarrassment was fueling your bravado, and no matter how hard your brain was trying to press the issue that you were, in fact, entering the proverbial lion’s den, you couldn’t ignore how hyper aware you were of him as he shut the door and followed you deeper into his hotel room.

His was a perfect mimicry of yours, except most of his lights had been cut off and a desk was situated against a floor to ceiling window that had a breathtaking view of Seoul and the moon above. You made your way to the window without realizing, staring up at the sky with a look of wonder. You didn’t even hear Taewook slip into his desk chair and turn to face you.

“Why do you have a nice view and I don’t?” You asked, mostly to yourself, but hadn’t realized you’d spoken aloud.

“The workers chose the rooms. Not me.” His voice was unusually soft. “Do you like the view?”

You shrugged and turned to him, cupping your elbows in your palms. “It’s nice. So, the tattoo?”

He laughed, then, an addicting sound. It was almost… pleasant. Taehee’s warnings were ringing around in your head, but you didn’t have the courage to face them right now.

Taewook tugged at the buttons of his silk night shirt. Your stomach dropped as each button fell away and the fabric parted to reveal strong shoulders, defined pectorals, and well kept abdominal muscles that tapered down into a powerful ‘v’ between his hips. He shrugged off the article of fabric and tossed it on the desk and with it out of the way, you could see how far the tattoo went.

It was an intricate design of roses, or what you had seen poking out of his shirt, but beneath there was a snake coiling around the stems and accented with falling petals that were in color and not grayscale like you had assumed. The snake looked almost lifelike and you stepped forward before you even realized, wondering if the texture of the scales would be an illusion or real snakeskin under your fingers. Then you paused, eyes darting up to meet Taewook’s, hand outstretched towards the side of his throat.

“By all means.” He reached forward and grabbed your wrist, tugging you the rest of the way to place your cold palm gently against the tattoo. You stood between his legs now, knees pressed against the leather chair and legs brushing the inside of his thighs. “You may touch it.”

Heat crept up the back of your neck. He didn’t let go of your hand and instead kept tracing interesting little circles into your wrist, and you gently followed the lines of the tattoo, tracing each petal and leaning closer and closer to find the lines that were almost obliterated by shadows. You didn’t even realize how close you were until his hair was tickling your temple.

You leaned back at the realization, not far enough to part completely with the tattoo but to look at his eyes, to see his face. His eyes were heavily lidded and half shut, lashes casting shadows onto his face from the moonlight. Those eyes reminded you of a lazy predator, content to lay and wait, and you felt his fingers on your wrist solidify into a strong grip. You almost pulled away, but found that you couldn’t--you were ensnared by his eyes, your fingers pausing over the skin of his tattoo.

“Taewook?” You whispered, a breath in the room.

His lips were on yours before you had even conceived the notion of pulling away.

You had imagined kissing Taewook before, just like you had Taehee, Biho, Hansol, and Yooha. Each of them, in your mind, had a different way, a different feeling they gave you.

You weren’t expecting the savage way he devoured your lips. Savage, and yet thorough, tongue swiping against the raw skin of your bottom lip, teeth grazing the flesh ever so softly but never biting, never brutalizing the skin. You couldn’t help but respond, your free hand coming up to rest lightly on the bare skin of his chest, your other hand darting up and into the hair at the nape of his neck, almost surprised by the softness. What surprised you even more was the way he released your wrist and dug his fingers into your hips, lifting you into his lap in one smooth motion, nestling your legs between his thighs and the arms of the chair, pinning you in place.

A bolt of white hot lightning shot down your navel and left you tingling when the dark haired male shoved his hands up your shirt to draw his fingers on the skin above the waistband of your shorts, each touch feeling like electricity, like fire sundered with sparks. When you made no move of pulling away, your hand fisting in his hair, his kisses became more violent, teeth drawing harsh lines down the swell of your lip. When his tongue entered your mouth it was because you let him, unable to prevent a small moan escaping your throat when his hands traced higher to the smooth curves of your breasts. You were almost painfully aware that you weren’t wearing a bra right then, having forgotten all about it, and could almost envision his hands through your shirt, hands taking a firm grip just underneath them and providing a mimicry of support. His thumbs traced sweeping lines over the flesh, never quite touching your hardened nipples, mimicking the movements of his tongue in your mouth.

Soon you had to part for breath, taking deep gasps of precious air. Taewook continued his assault down your jaw and throat, lips dragging a fire hot trail wherever they went, and soon you could feel the hard pulse of heat settle between your legs, itching for friction. You knew you should have gotten up the moment Taewook found that sweet spot where your throat connected to your shoulder, but you didn’t--Taehee’s warnings completely left your mind. Because this, this was what you had wanted, on some level, as wrong as it was. As evil as they persuaded you he was. As bad as you knew he was.

A high pitched whine had Taewook smiling into the hickey he was sucking onto your neck. “Such a pretty sound. Sing more for me.”

His hand trailed down from your breast and followed the lines of your stomach to rest lightly on the ribbon holding your shorts up. He united them with one quick movement, lips moving to capture your nipple through your shirt. The sparks that erupted throughout your body at the warm, hot contact of his mouth on your flesh, your shirt the flimsiest barrier between you, had you stifling a moan.

“Don’t hide your voice from me.” Taewook’s mouth moved against yours as he spoke, fingers tracing down between your legs over the fabric of your shorts. Your nipple had been abandoned, a damp spot cold against your skin, but you didn’t much care when his fingers pressed against your lower lips with enough pressure to have you wanting more. A desperate whine left your mouth when he refused to move his fingers. “Good girl. Give me more of those.”

“Taewook,” you gasped, moving your hips slightly to gain friction against his fingers. You weren’t even embarrassed by the rush of wetness that he could probably feel. “Please…”

“Please what?” He goaded lightly, lips latching back onto your neck. “Tell me what you want.”

“Please…” You swallowed the words when his fingers moved, finally, dragging across your clit through the fabric. Your hips jerked to follow them, desperate to ride his hand, but his other hand came down and stilled them. “Please touch me. Please.”

You couldn’t stand it. All of the warnings had completely left you until you were focused on one thing: Taewook.

“Your wish is my command.”

You weren’t expecting the way his hand darted up the leg of your shorts, or the way he pushed aside your underwear to sink his fingers into your wet warmth. Your legs almost buckled, but with nowhere to go between his legs and the chair, you had to steady yourself with your hands on his shoulders, fingernails digging crescents into his back. He moved his fingers in hypnotic movements, palm pushing against your clit with every blissful rub of his fingers over your slit. He allowed you to move your hips with him, riding his hand like you would your own, except this--this felt so much better than your own hand. The delicious grind of his callouses against the tiny bundle of nerves was getting you closer and closer, a tight ball building behind your navel.

Your gasps in his ear became faster, louder, higher pitched--and then he stopped.

Before you could angrily pull back, he was already moving you. He pulled his hand out of your shorts and hoisted you up by the back of your thighs, fingers digging red welts into the flesh. You wrapped your legs around his hips on instinct when he stood, burying your face in his shoulder and unable to resist putting marks of your own on him. Your hips moved on their own volition, finding the hardness of his cock pressed against you and rolling into it between the short distance from his desk to his bed.

“Shit.” His curse was light in your ear when you ground against him, wet enough that he could feel you through the thin silk of his pants. “Fucking--[Name].”

You were tossed on the bed unceremoniously, but you couldn’t bring it in yourself to care. He ripped off your shorts and panties in one go, not even stopping to admire the glistening, wet view of you under the moonlight, all ripe and ready for him to devour.

Then your legs were over his shoulders and his face was pressed between your legs, finding your clit almost instantaneously and sucking so hard you were seeing stars. You weren’t even sure if the moans were yours, as wanton and desperate as they were. He slipped a finger inside you, curling it against your walls and touching that spot just-so that you dug your heels into his back hard, tossing your head back with a hard roll of your hips against his mouth and fingers.

He didn’t seem to mind, judging by the groan he let off that had your thighs clamping down on his head, and soon you were gone, your orgasm hitting you with the force of a train. The next one crept up on you like death in the night, ripping through you faster than the last one, Taewook working you masterfully with his fingers and hot mouth. Soon you could barely scream, voice hoarse and faint, and only then did he rise from between your legs, lips glistening with your slick. You couldn’t help the pang of arousal that was almost painful when he licked his fingers off one by one and then leaned down to kiss you.

“Taewook,” you moaned breathlessly against his mouth, legs coming up to wrap around his hips. You settled your hands on his shoulder blades, the taste of yourself on his mouth more than you could take. He was rock hard against your thigh and you rolled your pussy against him, gasping at the friction as his head caught your engorged clit, him groaning in your mouth. “Oh, please…”

You didn’t have to beg this time. He fisted himself with his hand, rubbing his cock between your folds to wet himself, bucking his hips with every movement. And then he was pushing into you, the arousal overpowering the slight pain of losing your virginity. Your fingers caught in his skin and dragged dark red lines down his back, coming back up when his fingers found your clit and began rolling it between his thumb and index. He filled you to the brim, enough that every shallow thrust had you seeing white spots. His hands came up to grip onto your hips and you replaced his hand with your own, fingers darting down to feel him slide into you with a harsh thrust that knocked the breath out of your lungs.

He was rough but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. His hands were tight, bruising fingerprints into your hips, and you could feel them blooming on your thighs as his pace grew faster than you could keep up with, chasing his release, and you somehow felt yourself coming with him, shuddering as the final wave swept through you as softly as a caress.

Taewook caught his breath, softening inside you, and reached up to push his hair away from his face. His eyes weren’t black, like you had thought, but such a deep brown that it devoured his pupil. He looked down at you, breathing hard, almost as if he was waiting for you to instantly feel the regret and leave.

You didn’t.

“[Name]?” He inquired softly, almost confused when you reached up and tangled your fingers in his hair, dragging his head down to your level. “Are you alright?”

“Never been better,” you replied, your voice a rasp, and you kissed him sweetly, pouring all of the emotions you harbored for him into that one kiss because, goblins and gods be damned, you wanted him.

You kissed until the sun rose, casting him in gentle light, and even then, you refused to move, too warm and comfortable and wrapped up in him to care. He was almost like a snake, refusing to part from you, legs entwined with yours and you couldn’t tell where you ended and he began.

The marks on your skin remained, a permanent reminder as you finally were forced to retreat to your room to retrieve your phone, and even when Taehee and the others came to walk you back home.

It was almost curious when you woke up late the next night, a text from Taewook lighting up your screen. You sat up, casting a glance to the door that you knew was locked, and opened the text with bated breath.

You could barely hold in a horrified breath.

Taewook had attached an image of his back and the grisly lines you had gouged into him with your fingernails. They were still livid and looked to be bruising slightly. Underneath that was a single line: ‘You’re quite vicious when you want to be, aren’t you?’ Judging by the smirk you could see in the mirror in front of him, he wasn’t angry at all. Smug, in fact. A little too smug.

You snapped a quick photo of the enormous hand shaped bruises on your hips, each finger imprinted in ghastly detail upon your skin. You sent him to it and captioned it: ‘And you like to leave your mark, don’t you, you snake?’

His reply was almost instantaneous. ‘I think I like my marks on you. Perhaps I should add more.’

You bit your lip and, with one last glance to the door, replied. ‘Maybe you should.’

‘You know what to do.’

And so you did.

Into the night air, you whispered his name.

“Taewook.”

[closer-stars]

Fall of the Kingdom

Member: Hongjoong Word Count: 4.4k (mmmm) Genre: it’s just... Dark... and drama. Content: Demon Hongjoong’s got a war but he needs to feed on humans first. Mentions of explosions, violence, blood, suicide ideation (only brushed upon, nothing in detail i promise). Note: This idea came to me after seeing rocker hongjoong and that Iconic dark smile he does. Also this was technically done in one go cause I was Feeling the Inspiration so forgive me if it’s messy. Also this was just an Excuse for me to indulge in an interest of mine. Taglist: @barsformars @miniyeo @hwaberrykiwi @jwyfldr @fvae @yeotlny @inkigayeo

“I’ve become so numb, can’t feel you there. 

I’ve become so tired, so much more aware.”

There was something about this new song that made you feel breathless, as if all the frustration and pent up anger has been sucked out of you. Just like the song, you feel a little numb. It was a good thing you were sitting down too, you could barely feel your own legs after that song. If there was a song to describe what your life has made you feel, it would be this song. There were days where you didn’t feel real, if you were still capable of feeling emotions, if you can still reach the expectations of people put onto you. 

Silence passes over your earphones and that’s when you realize that the song had ended, loading the next video. You quickly stopped autoplay and had the video play again. This time you had to get yourself to watch the music video. The vocals alone had put you through an array of emotions you didn’t think you could still feel. You weren’t ready for what the video was about to give you. His smile was alluring as if promising you that you are something. His gaze reminding the viewers of strength innate in them even after years of mistreatment from life. To have an artist properly encapsulate all the emotions in you just had you hooked. You wanted more.

No.

You need more. 

‘By. Hongjoong.’

You’ve never heard of this artist before. Is he new to the music scene?  There’s next to nothing about this Hongjoong online. Just this song on what you assume is his YouTube channel. Just a few thousand views for now. There are a few comments, praising him for his music and his looks (you had to admit, he does look quite attractive.) but not much for you to go about. For now, you drop a like and subscribed to the guy’s channel. 

Within the next few days, the views rose to the millions. Comments in various languages were pouring in, all of which seemed to be praise. The comment section has become a forum, people asking others about him. Even you were reading comments hoping for more information. The only sign that he was a real entity behind the screen was the description on his video.

It wasn’t there when you first viewed the music video.

“Hello there. I am Kim Hongjoong. This is my first single, Numb. Please look forward to my future releases!”

He stayed true to his word. Over the past few months, his following has grown. He doesn’t have any other social media account except his Youtube and Instagram (that was only opened recently). While there was a distance between him and his fans in terms of interactions, his music made up for it. His music much like his first single, stayed consistent for being for an audience who have been ignored by life, who struggle for a break. Say My Name, his second single reached a million views within two days. Much like the title, more and more people are talking about him. His music is played in shops and restaurants. It’s hitting the top of the charts and staying there for weeks. He never leaves the Top 10 at least. 

People assumed he was going to be a one hit wonder, a lot of independent artists are. But he’s proven them wrong, not through posts on Instagram but through consistently dropping song after song. Songs that remain stuck in your head for weeks to come until he drops another one. The new one being better than the former. He was only getting started. The media and general public have called him a digital monster. Yet, despite all the songs he’s released, no one knows who he really is. Any interview he’s done with the media only scratches the surface of his musical process and his personality. There’s more to him, you’re sure but you just couldn’t place what that ‘more’ is. 

People were already commenting on his social media and making posts begging for him to do a concert, or any sort of live performance. Surely his music would sound much better in real life?

On the other hand, there were those who weren’t into his style. They assume and point fingers at him for being someone who associated themselves with the Anti-Christ due to his heavy imagery and music. It’s an age old argument with no solid proof to back it up. Any tongue that speaks against Hongjoong’s music was quickly dealt with by his fans. Though you didn’t like the way they dealt with the opposing views, they had it coming. 

After Horizon’s release, he dropped another video. Not a music video, but it seems like him talking to the camera. 

“Hello everyone. This is Kim Hongjoong.” 

You didn’t think he would speak in such a soft tone. He was dressed head to toe in black, very reminiscent and consistent with his music style, not that you expected anything different. It just seems to fall in line with who he is from what you’ve seen. 

“To everyone’s delight, I will be doing a countrywide tour within the next few months. The dates, venues and where to buy are in the description down below. I hope to see you there.” He doesn’t say anything else, but the corners of his lips curve, a charming smile, very much unlike the dark heavy gazes and grins he dons in his music videos. 

The video announcement quickly gains views and comments. Foreign fans weeping for an opportunity they can’t experience, begging him to visit them too. Local fans were celebrating in the comments, excited to hear his other hits, especially his debut song, Numb. 

To your delight, he’s doing a show near your area. You had to see this guy in the flesh. What better way to deal with your frustrations than with live music? There’s something about his music and him that gives you such an emotional high and that was from just the screen, what more if it were live? You immediately got yourself a ticket, before it got sold out. 

Two months before D-day.

--------

Hongjoong has been monitoring the numbers and interactions done on his posts. It’s easy to see how delighted he is. Even with next to no information about him, he managed to garner a loyal following not only here but internationally as well. 

Here’s the thing with this Kim Hongjoong. He’s not human. Not in the fandom praise for his superb skills in music making, no, he’s not from the human realm. Instead, he’s a demon. A demon that feeds on the frustrations of humans. Those wronged by life and society were the most susceptible to his charms. Every night, he walks through the streets, unrecognized by the public. ‘How stupid.’ He thinks as they pass by him without batting an eyelash. He can smell the catharsis of those who listen to his creations. It’s only then that he can point out those who carry bitterness in their hearts, otherwise he waits. 

He feels himself get stronger with each passing day. Soon, he’ll be able to show why he’s one of the Greater Princes of Hell. Lesser demons and humans as his soldiers? How delightful would it be to have the damned souls work for him. Surely it would make Wooyoung jealous but he delights in his jealousy. 

Was he worried that he won’t get as strong as he wants to? Not at all. Nothing to be worried about when the numbers show just how much people have become an avid follower of his regardless of distance. 

Now one might wonder why he does this. What else other than to prove to the beings above him that the ones that call the shots with humans are beings like him? The fearful physique and near perfect mentality of the angels are what pushes people away from believing in redemption. Meanwhile him? He and his fellow demons look like anyone else, save for the striking eye colors and sharper than usual teeth. It’s easy to creep on humans when they deem you as one of them. 

He’s careful though, making sure no one recognizes him by his voice when he’s out with the humans. The glamour of being “mysterious” does more than what his peers expected. With the concerts coming up, it makes it easier for him and his fellow demons to find potential hosts to continue their work. 

He’s not foolish.

--------

It’s D-Day and you made sure you looked decent for a long night. In the months that led to this fateful day, you’ve made friends with those who were also fans of Hongjoong. A lot of them were chaotic, but it was something you’ve come to accept. There were always going to be fans that would start a fight for the sake of their favorite artist. While you weren’t one of them, you weren’t one to stop them either should they start fighting someone. Who are you to tell them what to do when you blind yourself at the face of violence. 

The lights dim, thick smoke pour from the sides and Hongjoong enters the stage much to the roaring of the fans. They chant his name over and over. It almost feels like a prayer with how fervent they are. 

His cocky grin graces his features, with a wave of his hand, the cheering grows louder. It’s loud enough to make the venue feel hot and sticky from the energy. 

This is what he wanted. 

“Hello everyone! I hope all of you are prepared for the best night of your lives.” He coos into the mic. You could already hear a few women shrieking for his attention to which he gives. 

The show stars and entire venue feels like it’s shaking from the constant jumping from the crowd. For a split second, you were a little scared of how the ceiling might cave in from the collective jumping. The chants from the fans are reaching a feverish high. The volume and emotion behind the voices of people who seem to have suffered the same life as you: mistreated, ignored, kicked to the side. All of them want to be heard, to feel as if someone understands. 

Hongjoong does. Just not in the way they expected. 

Somewhere through the show, you lose sight of your friends. All of them have managed to reach near the barricade, hoping to get a fleeting touch of his hand. As if his touch would be the solution to all their problems. Hongjoong stays near the edge of the stage but never does he go near the crowd, much to their desire to be closer to him. 

‘Fools.’ The thought is hidden behind a dark smirk. Some on the side have decided to argue, saying that his smirk was for them and not the other. 

Everything feels suffocating; the smoke from the smoke machine, along with the pulsating bodies as if moving as one around you. You feel lightheaded, overwhelmed but heavens be damned because at the same time, you feel so alive. It feels like the crowd is moving as one to Hongjoong’s voice. Despite the suffocation, everything feels so right. 

The safety is short lived. To the side, you see a fight breaking out between two guys. You couldn’t clearly see what’s going on but you could tell that punches were being thrown from either side. It’s gotten to the point where the bouncers had to kick them out of the venue, the crowd filling in on the gaps of where the two once were. The show carries on, but you opt to stick to the back to stay out of the still brimming chaos within the crowd. 

He’s not fazed by the violence the erupts in the crowd. He lives for it actually. It’s what he wanted to happen. All the emotions concentrated in one room, nothing could beat this feeling. Not even a seat in Heaven could replace the feeling of pleasure he receives from his followers. 

The show ends with his debut song Numb. You never left your spot near the exit, you can only imagine the chaos if you left with the crowd of people once the show ends. He blows a few kisses to the crowd, bidding them goodbye and that he’ll see them soon. Whenever that might be. 

You leave the premises when he leaves the stage. Time to avoid the crowds. 

He stays inside the venue, taking in all the emotions and catharsis as much as possible. It’s the aftermath that always tastes the best. The dazed feeling of his followers as their emotions crash from such a high cathartic moment. The surplus of violent catharsis momentarily has his eyes turn white. It’s rather difficult to keep the human facade when you feel the power surge through your body. Unfortunately, keeping the facade of a human while taking what you need in order to become stronger makes it much more difficult. Such a prison can only take so much. 

After all, should the people hold onto their bitterness, it can only give way to violence. 

A fellow Greater Demon, a being who named himself Jongho for the sake of normalcy,  somehow eyes the still lingering crowd with interest. “You’ve outdone yourself once more. The last you did this was centuries ago wasn’t it?” He can still taste the left over frustrations, such shall be left with the people. Give them some time and that small seed becomes something bigger especially with what Hongjoong still has up his sleeve. The last time Hongjoong had tried to look for a host, disaster struck the nation and forced him into hiding until recently. “What are you going to do with the left overs?” 

“That’s right. I failed to find a potential host back then. The potential hosts I wanted just disintegrated into ashes.” He mutters. It’s thanks to him the phenomenon of spontaneous human combustion came to light. He straightens himself up, his eyes flashing white as he tries to contain the energy he has absorbed. “As for the leftovers, let the people keep it. Chaos shall ensue with what I have next.” 

“Did you find someone now?” The plan Hongjoong has doesn’t matter to Jongho. What matters is that Hongjoong finds a potential host. That won’t suffer the same fate as those in the past. 

He remembers you, clearly staying towards the back, always turning a blind eye to the violence that was around you and he grins. 

--------

The cool air outside the venue was a needed break from everything. It’s only then that you realize how hungry and exhausted you are. Truth be told, after that concert, you could probably sleep for a week with how physically and emotionally exhausted you are. 

But first things first. You need to eat. 

You find yourself in a fast food restaurant. It was the only thing you could stomach after such a long day of running around with friends and an emotionally charged concert. 

There weren’t much people in the establishment. Only two tables were occupied and they were clearly people who didn’t attend the concert. You sit by the corner, busying yourself with your burger and nuggets. The iced fruit juice could tide over your thirst until you head home. 

You look up when you see someone enter the premises. If it weren’t for your quick reflexes, you would’ve dropped your food. 

It’s Kim Hongjoong. Only he’s already out of his stage clothes but his makeup still gives him away.

There’s nowhere to hide from his view. Instead, you look down and focus on your meal. You try to eat as fast as you can even at the risk of choking.  It’s too much for your poor heart. You who went through adrenaline, frustration, anger, then relief in one day. To be in the same establishment as The Kim Hongjoong was too much for you to keep up with. 

“Is this seat taken?” 

You look at the feet then look up. You try to hide the fact you could recognize him but from the sound of his chuckle, you failed. You gesture to the seat across you as you try to chew slowly. Kim Hongjoong is in front of you. Surely this is just a dream? 

He chuckles softly at how you’re staring at him still. “Yes I’m real.” He says as if reading your mind. He finds your shy nature a little endearing, just what he needs for his plans. 

“I thought you would still be in the venue…” You admit softly as you try to eat slowly this time. Surely it would be rude to finish before him now that he had just started eating? 

“I never agreed to any meet and greet so I managed to leave the premises early.” He explains. It’s whiplash how soft his mannerisms were compared to his music. “What’s your name? You were in my concert weren’t you?” He asks, gesturing to the neon band wrapped around your wrist.

Before you could deny anything, he catches you red handed. You relent to his wishes and tell him your name. “How could you even see me? I was at the back.” Surely he couldn’t see you through all the blinding lights.

He just shoots you a mischievous wink. “I have my ways, dear.” He leads the conversation for the rest of the time, asking you how you found him, your thoughts about his music, and so on. It felt like you were just talking to an old friend who just made it big. You felt at ease with him. 

You look at the time and nearly jump out of your seat. “Crap, it’s late. I have to go..” You admit, dejected at having to cut the conversation short. Hongjoong had other plans though, he stood up, grabbing what’s left of his fries and his iced coffee. 

“I can give you a ride home. Where do you live?” 

This is too good to be true. 

--------

On the ride home, he asks you about yourself, your life, how you find yourself holding up despite everything. You admit that you have a hard time holding yourself up, even having daydreams of the unspeakable. That mere idea puts a frown on his face. The stoplight turns red and his fingers immediately tip your chin up to make you look at him in the eye. The tip of his thumb brushes against the bottom of your lip and in your shock of how fast he moves, your mouth is left slightly open. 

“Don’t.” 

There’s something in his tone that tells you to not go against his words. It’s perhaps better to not divulge your daydreams, so you promise that you won’t. 

He flashes a warm smile at you just in time for the stoplight to turn green. 

You don’t know that he’s already imparted a bit of his essence into you. ‘Humans, how gullible.’ 

---------

By the time he drops you outside your apartment complex, you’ve exchanged contact details. Both sides hope to stay in touch as much as possible. “Thank you for the ride! Stay safe on the road!” You say as you jog inside. 

The male watches you enter the premises of your complex before driving off. Jongho materializes on the seat you left. “How was it?” 

The grin on Hongjoong’s lips tells him everything he needed. 

---------

Time has passed and the two of you have been talking consistently day in and day out. The genuinity of the bond was something that made you feel like life was a little bearable now. Shitty but still bearable thanks to Hongjoong and his music. You’ve admitted to him how your life hasn’t been the best and how his music has been something helping you through. 

It’s radio silence by next week. No matter how many messages you send him, you receive no sign of him reading it or a response. You genuinely feared losing someone you considered a friend (and a crush but let’s not talk about that). Did he just ghost you? 

The silence stretches into months, and the happiness you felt in the previous weeks have disappeared, morphing into the familiar dread you’re too familiar with by now. You’ve accepted the fact that he may have just ghosted you but the radio silence on his youtube channel tells you there’s more to just the regular ghosting. 

“BREAKING: Rock icon, Kim Hongjoong has been deemed missing. More info to come at 5PM.” 

Something in your stomach drops and you look around you. Hongjoong had already amassed a large following over the past year. In this room alone, you could assume there were ten fans. All eyes were glued to the tv screen. In the distance you hear a loud explosion and sirens, you get out of your seat immediately, leaving the premises. What the fuck is going on? 

By the time you stepped foot outside the restaurant, someone comes barreling towards you. Isn’t this the same guy that caused a fight in his concert? You could recognize steely eyes anywhere, but what was his name? The more important question is, why does he look so bloodied and dirty? Also, what was he running from? The two of you stare at each other for a moment before the police have come chasing after him. You’re left with no option but to give way to his chasers. 

It’s better to head home than to stay out any longer at this rate. 

“BREAKING: Suspect of the explosion earlier today has been caught along with his accomplices.” 

Finally back at home, the news outlets have been trying to keep up with the sudden influx of events. Kim Hongjoong has been missing for five days. The explosion from earlier was made by a Kang Yeosang who is, coincidentally, also a fan of Hongjoong. It’s already known everywhere that a fan of Hongjoong is good enough of a cult member. Now Hongjoong might not have mentioned anything about a better land or the second coming like most cult leaders but with the amassed following he has despite his disappearance, they might as well be a cult. 

There’s speculation on social media as to what exactly had happened to Hongjoong but nothing is for certain. Fanbases are trying to find Hongjoong’s whereabouts only to come up empty. Fake accounts are popping up, proclaiming themselves to be Hongjoong, giving false leads to anyone who believes. 

Some fans have resorted to violence, hoping to get back the artist that they think genuinely understands them. It’s a warzone online and in real life. You’re seeing posts, unsure if they’re real or not, of fans wishing they were the ones that disappeared instead of Hongjoong. Overwhelmed with everything, you shut off your phone and bury yourself in your bed. His music plays faintly and it’s the only thing that’s holding you to the real world. 

Everything else doesn’t feel real. 

As each day passes, there’s another case of violence and death. It’s got the city by its neck with how rampant the chaos has been. The only way you’re staying sane through it all is through your detachment to all the violence that runs amok around you. 

“BREAKING: a 22 year old man caught dead after pretending to be the missing artist Kim Hongjoong online. More information on the found mass burial site to follow at 6PM”

You’ve busied yourself by searching the internet for other artists, hoping to find someone to fill in the hole Hongjoong has left. None of them do the job the way Hongjoong does it. You try to call his number, hoping for something.

“The number you have dialed is out of use. Please check the number you have dialed and try again.” 

Please let this just be a dream. 

You had a restless sleep that night, tossing and turning. Your dreams were wrought with Hongjoong’s voice, screaming for your help. His voice surrounds your helpless figure until you stop in your tracks and scream out in pain. You’re jolted awake and you feel your body drenched in sweat and fear.  “Hongjoong, where are you?” You plead softly, utterly helpless. 

The leads regarding Hongjoong decrease as each day passes and fans and the general public have resigned themselves to the fate that he had died. Some of his fans have gone their own ways, though their chaotic ways have never faltered. You on the other hand, still tried to find traces of him despite not knowing a lot about him. 

---------

On the other side of the city, Hongjoong watches the news from Jongho’s living quarters. He’s delighted to see the stress and fear from regular humans. A little variety from the stress of his followers. It’s a good thing he left some violence behind with his followers, those who have nothing to lose do cause the best havoc. Maybe he should keep that Yeosang guy alive to learn a few more tricks. He doesn’t need to tell his followers what to do. Just disappear at the height of his fame and let them do the work. 

He takes a shot of vodka as he continues to watch on. Jongho splayed on the couch, watches as well. “What do you think?” 

“Perfect. I think Lucifer would be delighted in this. I can already tell my legions are growing with the amount of deaths.” 

“How soon will the war be then?” Jongho’s legions are already waiting for his word. His human body appears to be a lot tankier than expected. 

“Give my host three months, their nature is perfect in amassing followers around the globe.” 

--------

You have another dream that night, a familiar voice with that addicting smile. “Hongjoong?” You call out, running wherever his voice is coming from.  “Hongjoong where are you?!” You call out again but he doesn’t reply, he only giggles at how strained you are to look for him. While it’s perfect to strike when they least expect it, it’s also just as good to strike when they’re at their weakest. 

You somehow manage to find him. He looks a little different now, stronger, and something about him doesn’t feel human. He sits on a throne, painted white with obsidian sprinkled upon the back. He doesn’t seem affected by how distraught and confused you look. In fact, he actually laughs at your face at how pitiful you look. He gives you a set of instructions. All of which point to a war that only heaven and hell can conceive. 

“Only then can you find me, my dear. Don’t let me down.”

Your eyes glow white when you wake up. Who are you to deny his wishes?

[eigwayne]

Fic Time! It’s the first part of the ChengQing fic I keep mentioning.

A Little Spoiled

Rating: Explicit Fandom: 陈情令 | The Untamed (TV) Relationship: Jiāng Chéng | Jiāng Wǎnyín/Wēn Qíng Characters: Jiang Cheng | Jiang Wanyin, Wen Qing (Módào Zǔshī) Language: English; Words: 4045; Chapters:1/4

Additional Tags: Inadvisable Hook-ups, paying for groceries as a form of affection, kinda sugar daddy jiang cheng, Emotional Constipation, First Time, Awkward First Times, vacillating wildly between annoyed and horny, as many of us are when jiang cheng is involved, Secrets, drama canon

Read chapter 1 on AO3 here.

Wen Qing knows this is a bad idea. He's short tempered, fought a war against her clan, and has responsibilities that dont- can't- include her. She returned his comb and is keeping a secret that could destroy him.

But he's paying for much-needed supplies and when he almost smiles she can pretend things are simpler, that he's just the shy young master who could have loved her. And sometimes even the most commanding people want to be a little spoiled.

(A vaguely drama-canon-compliant affair between Wen Qing and Jiang Cheng during the Burial Mound era, where secrets are kept, gifts are bought, and Wen Qing struggles between respect for herself and desire for Jiang Cheng before deciding she wants to attempt to have both. Fic concept notes at the end, if you’re into that.)

Wen Qing inspected the produce, turning over a potato as she checked for faults. Most were unsprouted but one never really knew. And she certainly didn’t want Wei Wuxian to think she was encouraging him. This was a treat, not a crop! Wen Ning stood behind her, patient as always and uncommenting on her vegetable selections, with his now-empty radish basket waiting to be filled.

“We’ll take some,” she said to the seller, “but you’re asking simply too much for…” A flash of purple caught her eye. Her heart jumped at the thought of him, although it wasn’t easy to tell if it was fear or not.

(Fear would be safer. Her family had made enemies of the Great Sects, Jiang Wanyin more than most, and she should be wary of him. But late at night, when she let herself dream… Well, that was a different story and she certainly wasn’t going to mull that over right there in the marketplace.)

Either way, he had as much right to cross Yiling as she did; Wei Wuxian hadn’t started a sect no matter what the rumors said and Yiling was no one’s territory. She pretended to be unaffected, hoped Wen Ning hadn’t noticed him, and turned back to the potato seller. “No, this price is too much. I am willing to spend…”

Later, potatoes successfully haggled to a reasonable price and more Wen Qing-approved vegetables joining them in Wen Ning’s basket, the Wen siblings walked together toward the exit of the market square. Wen Qing could almost pretend things were normal- that Wen Ning was alive and well, and she was simply restocking her dispensary. They would go home and everyone would have enough to eat and-

She cut that thought off before it could go further. It was too tempting, the fantasies and could-have-beens. Her mind supplied enough of those as she lay in the dark, in the moments after she laid her head on her pillow and before sleep claimed her. And her mind supplied more as she paused near a display of haircombs.

‘I should have at least asked him for some seeds and fertilizer when I gave it back,’ she thought as she remembered Jiang Wanyin’s gift. She thought of a million things she could have asked him for, after the comb had already been returned. But a rebuilding sect could spare none of it, really, and the unspoken offers were heavier than the spoken one. And all of it was foolish could-have-beens.

But she had a practical reason for looking at combs. The last good comb had broken tines and A-Yuan needed something gentle on his scalp. He cried every time he had his hair combed and that simply wouldn’t do.

“I have a few small things to get,” she said to Wen Ning. “I’ll be along shortly. Head back and help the others, okay?” He nodded and murmured his assent, and turned back to the main road. Her heart swelled with fondness. Such a good, obedient, caring boy, even now.

Wen Qing stood in front of the display, looking for something inexpensive but well-made, the tips blunt enough for A-Yuan.

At her level of cultivation, she easily felt him approach. He wasn’t even attempting to hide his presence, but she would know the feel of him even if she was drowning in the resentment of the Burial Mounds. There was his natural energy, a tumultuous pulse that she had spent so long rebuilding. There was the electric feel of his inherited spiritual weapon. And although it wasn’t something she could detect consciously, she imagined she could feel it, as the one who put it there- the blazing heat of Wei Wuxian’s golden core.

He was a storm made flesh, and he stood beside her in the marketplace of Yiling. And he said, his voice low and tight in her ear, “If you needed a comb, you should have kept the one I gave you.”

Anger flashed through her- how dare he get so close, use that voice! How dare he say something like that without even looking her in the eye! How dare he speak of it in public at all! But she swallowed it, never let it reach her face. It was a skill she learned serving a harsher master than he.

“Sect Leader Jiang,” she said with a slight curtsy. It was cute and feminine and she should have bowed, to remind him they were both cultivators and she was not without power, but she was standing straight again before it even occurred to her.

He bowed to her then, just the correct angle for politeness’s sake.

“I need a comb for a child,” she said calmly, in response to his words. “That comb should be given to a bride.”

He flinched, visibly, and she turned back to the display. The shopkeeper was surely drawing conclusions but if she wanted Wen Qing’s business, she’d keep her mouth shut.

She selected two combs, simple in design but tines sanded smooth and blunt with care. Jiang Wanyin stood beside her the whole time and she drew it out, letting him stew. He could say something if he wanted her attention that badly. He certainly had no qualms about getting close enough to be heard.

But drawing it out too long would be a waste of her time, too, so she eventually made her decision. As she reached for her too-thin money pouch, Jiang Wanyin stopped her. His hand was warm on her forearm but then, she was always cold. They were all a little cold, on the Burial Mounds.

“You don’t have to,” she hissed.

“I don’t,” he agreed, and handed the shopkeeper the silver.

The combs were wrapped in fabric- not patterned silk, just a soft linen Wen Qing would use for patching or handkerchiefs later- and she led Jiang Wanyin a few steps away.

“I do not intend to owe you anything,” she said, voice low as she dug the silver out of her pouch to repay him. She didn’t bother to hide her annoyance.

“It’s a gift. Keep your money.”

She looked at him, lips tight. There was still tension in his face (perhaps there always would be), but she saw the shadow of the boy he had been. The boy who looked at her with wonder and longing. It was just a tiny, dying ember but the fact that it was there at all, after everything, made her breath catch in her throat.

‘He is so soft when he hopes, like he could be gentle again someday. Is this what drove Wei Wuxian when he begged me to do the surgery?’

She turned away, too aware that she was staring. “I don’t want to discuss this in the middle of the market.”

“Shall we have tea, then? My treat,” he said, and pushed past her to head for the teahouse. She followed him, and cursed herself for a fool.

They got a private room, but tea was served and they savored the first sips before either of them spoke to the other. Wen Qing broke the silence first.

“Why are you in Yiling?”

“I was passing through,” he said.

“Passing through,” she scoffed. “With no disciples? Do you take me for a fool? Sect Leaders don’t travel by themselves.”

The look on his face was hard, angry, but embarrassed. “I sent them on ahead when I saw you,” he admitted.

She still wasn’t sure she believed the ‘passing through’ bit, but let it go. “You could have just left. I wouldn’t have blamed you for not wanting to speak with me.”

“A-jie would want to know how Wei Wuxian is doing. Who better to ask?”

Wen Qing would have been disappointed that he had not stopped for her, but Wei Wuxian had always been what brought them into each other’s orbits. “He’s managing,” she said. “Still bothering me about potatoes. Trying to branch out into even more fickle plants.” Nevermind that she was the one who enabled Wei Wuxian in the first place, buying those lotus seeds.

Jiang Wanyin huffed. “He never could do the practical thing.”

“It seems to be working. The lotuses are growing well, at least.” Wen Qing bit back a smile at how his eyes bulged. Good. Let him be surprised.

Jiang Wanyin looked down at his tea for a moment, digesting the fact that the man he cast out, the man he let exile himself, was growing the family emblem. Wen Qing waited a bit, then asked, “So what made you take out your wallet for my combs? We’re not beholden to you. Or was that also an excuse to ask after Wei Wuxian?” She wasn’t going to lie to herself about the combs any more than she would about his reason for stopping at all. Jiang Wanyin may still hold a tiny spark of his adolescent crush but he was no altruist.

“I felt like it, and Yunmeng Jiang is in a position where I can do things because I feel like doing it,” he said.

So he was showing off. She bit back the urge to slam her teacup back on the table. As it was, she still put it down with more force than strictly necessary.

“You don’t need to look down on us, Sect Leader Jiang,” she said with as much calm as she could muster. “It may be a simple life but we are managing.”

“Are you? Because I remember what you looked like before. Are you getting enough to eat? Is that boy getting enough?”

“You would dare-“

“I would dare! Wei Wuxian meddled in things he shouldn’t have, and now he can’t even take care of you! This is what playing hero does! You’re still suffering!”

“There are different types of suffering. I prefer this to the Jins.”

Her voice was level, the heat simmering below the surface of her cold tone. Jiang Wanyin had the grace to look embarrassed. They sat in silence again, and Wen Qing contemplated on whether she should leave now or later, after their food was brought in. Her pride said now. Her stomach said later.

“I’m not a hero like he is,” Jiang Wanyin said before she decided. He looked down at his teacup rather than meet her eyes. “I can only protect what’s mine. But I still wish to include you in that, sometimes.”

“So you bought my combs?”

He gave a curt nod. “I know I’m nothing compared to him, but-“ There was a soft knock at the door of their private dining room. They fell silent again as a waiter bustled in and their food was set down. The smell set Wen Qing’s stomach growling and she had to hold herself back, too conscious that eating quickly would make her sick, and prove Jiang Wanyin’s point about the insufficient dietary needs in the Burial Mounds (she also wondered how much she could stow away to bring home for A-Yuan without sacrificing too much of her dignity). And frankly, she had better manners than to bolt her food in front of a Sect Leader, no matter how much she wanted to. It kept her occupied, keeping up the pretense of being genteel, and she didn’t have to think about how this was possibly her longest conversation with Jiang Wanyin and how Wei Wuxian would be surprised at open he was with her. She wouldn’t think about how he looked healthy enough, no signs of weakness in his spiritual energy (although she’d have to check him properly to be sure, and oh, how her fingers twitched to grasp his wrist at that!), or how he looked charmingly uncertain when the silence went on. And she definitely wouldn’t think about how pink his lips were around his chopsticks.

She had just taken a bite of course, when he finally spoke again. “It’s been six months since A-jie got married. My third-in-command- well, second-in-command, now- he knows what to do to keep things running. Now that most of the boardwalks are rebuilt, it seems all I do is paperwork and oversee lessons. Buying those combs… I felt….”

He poked at his food with his chopsticks, clearly not comfortable with the thoughts he was forming. No one Wen Qing knew was comfortable with that much truth about themselves.

‘For all we aspire to the inner peace an immortal would have, we are ill-suited for it,’ she thought, about herself and Jiang Wanyin and every cultivator they knew (except perhaps her own little brother).

“You felt needed?” she suggested. “There would be nothing wrong with that, if we were any other people.”

“If we were any other people, I would buy you much more than a couple combs.” As soon as the words were past his lips, he looked up at her with wide, startled eyes. He clearly hadn’t meant to say that aloud.

She should ignore it, might have if they were adolescents still, but the fresh food with proper spices (and no radishes at all, because even she was sick of them by now) made her feel alive and bold.

“If we were other people, I would let you,” she said. As angry as he made her mere moments before, she liked this honesty in him. She was treated to the sight of hope in his expression again- a softening of tension, the creases between his brows smoothing just a bit- before he remembered his responsibilities.

“I can’t spend too much more- time or money. My disciples will worry if I don’t catch up with them soon. But-”

“It’s fine. I also have to get back before anyone starts to worry.”

“Let me walk you back,” Jiang Wanyin said in a rush.

Wen Qing wanted to say ‘yes’. Jiang Wanyin was pleasant to look at, after all, and had warm hands. If he was a bit awkward and kept putting his foot in his mouth, well, Wen Qing wasn’t the smoothest individual either and rather liked having someone she could get snippy with. Plus, Wei Wuxian still cared about him and would want to see him. But he was also the master of a Great Sect and her family, small as it was now, had been his sworn enemy.

“I’m not sure that would be wise,” she said. “We’ve already been seen together. Someone might recognize us.”

“Only because we’re known here. If we were somewhere else, I would do it. I would buy more than a couple combs for you."

Wen Qing stopped picking at her food and looked at him. There was that expression again, the hopeful puppy one she enjoyed but so often turned away from. She hated saying ‘no’ when he made that face.

So she said ‘yes’ for a change.

‘This is terribly selfish,’ she thought as they walked. Despite saying he shouldn’t spend more money earlier, he bought a rather large amount of baozi, and a couple hair ribbons in neutral tones (he must have noticed her frayed edges, damn him for being observant), ginger and dried peppercorns for her family and chili paste that was clearly for Wei Wuxian, and a very nice kitchen knife. He tested it on his thumb for her, like an idiot, and she used just a bit of her spiritual energy to heal the cut for him, ignoring the small gasp he let out when she took his hand.

(The contact wasn’t long enough, for all it seemed to burn them both. But he took her healing easily and she has no cause to worry about the golden core’s function, and no cause to keep holding on to him.)

He pressed all these items into her hands and she didn’t protest at all. She should, a token refusal for politeness’s sake or a real refusal because this was foolish of him and she couldn’t repay this kindness. But she thought of how well her family would eat tonight, between the fresh vegetables she sent with Wen Ning and these baozi. She didn’t dare take a chance that he would accept a refusal and take it all back.

She carried the baozi in a wooden box while Jiang Wanyin walked beside her, eyes straight ahead and hand on his sword like he was ignoring the people on the street and daring them to say something, all at once. Wen Qing had seen Wen Ruohan and his sons manage it but Jiang Wanyin was too self-conscious to pull it off quite yet. But then, their circumstances were different. Jiang Wanyin’s position was still precarious in many ways, and the Wens of her youth were unquestioned masters of Qishan.

Well. Things changed. Perhaps someday, Jiang Wanyin could walk down the street with a young lady and be confident about it. Wen Qing felt a pang that that young lady would not be her.

Lost in thought, she barely noticed when they reached the edge of town and kept going. Jiang Wanyin was still beside her and it seemed, perhaps not natural but certainly pleasant to feel his stormy presence and see the violet of his robes out of the corner of her eye.

“I shouldn’t go much further,” he finally said. They were at the foot of the Burial Mounds, within sight of the dark forest and the walls.

“You let me walk all this way without thanking you?” Wen Qing set the container of baozi down and bowed. “I want to repay you for this kindness, Jiang-zongzhu. I will find a way.”

“I told you I don’t want repayment,” he said, putting his hands under her elbows to stop her bow from sinking deeper. “We are even and this changes nothing.”

“This is money you weren’t planning to spend. Money that should go back to your sect.”

“My sect is fine and that money was my own!” He stepped closer, forcing her to straighten or hold her bow with her arms pressed against his chest. She chose to straighten her back. “You don’t owe me for this. I wanted to- to check on Wei Wuxian. For A-jie’s sake.”

“And yet you won’t come to see him?”

They stood for a moment, Jiang Wanyin’s hands still on her arms, almost as close as that day in the teahouse when they’d both been chasing Wei Wuxian. She glared up at him in challenge and started to pull her arms away, but he held her fast.

“I can’t. But… I’m not ready for you to go,” he said, and he pulled. She stumbled, two jerky steps, into the circle of his arms.

“Jiang-zongzhu,” she started, but her voice trailed off. He was warm and- well, not soft, but his muscles were invitingly firm under his robes. While she contemplated the feel of his chest and the silk of his robes (both very nice and she wanted to spend an hour or two running her hands over them), he wrapped his arms around her.

She was caught. She should have been angry, alarmed. He was the leader of a Great Sect, a danger to her family, and even a normal man could be dangerous to a woman alone. But she was hardly helpless and he had spent his money on them and he didn’t feel dangerous, not now.

‘It’s just a hug,’ she told herself. It was extremely inappropriate, with them being unrelated and unmarried, and even though she was still annoyed (he was infuriating! And infuriatingly inviting), she leaned into it anyway. There was something nice about being held close, secure in the cradle of his arms, hidden from the world by his expensive silks.

“A kiss,” he said, shattering the quiet of forest. She looked up at him. It wasn’t a good angle on him, mostly cheek and sideburn and nostril, but that didn’t calm her wild thoughts at all.

He didn’t look down at her or loosen his hold, and indeed he tightened his grip until she could feel Zidian digging into her shoulder. “What if I said a kiss would make us even?”

Her first response was a resounding ‘Yes!’ Their bodies were pressed together, his arms holding her tight, and she could see his lips, tempting and moist where he licked them in nervousness. A kiss seemed like a natural extension of their embrace.

But she had never traded affection for anything. Not goods, not money, not position, not even safety for her family. ‘I’m not that kind of woman,’ she wanted to say, needed him to know.

She could be, though, if it meant having Jiang Wanyin’s lips on her.

But she took too long thinking about it, and he loosened his hold and started to pull away. “Nevermind,” he snapped. “It was just a whim. I’m not so desperate that I can’t get a woman without bribing her with gifts!”

“I didn’t say anything,” Wen Qing said as she grabbed his sleeve. “And I’m not the sort of woman who can be bribed with gifts. Make no mistake about that! When I kiss you, it will be-.”

She was cut off by the crash of his lips against hers. One of his hands grabbed her arm. As if she would try to escape! She let him deepen the kiss, all her hesitation fleeing in her eagerness to have him. She put one arm about his shoulders, and he slipped his other arm around her waist, still holding tight with his other hand as he kissed her.

He tasted of the tea they’d had with their meal, and he held her too tightly and kissed like he was trying to devour her, all tooth and searching tongue. She should have shook him off, demanded he be more gentlemanly.

Instead, she said, “Don’t bite,” nearly breathless. She let him back her against a tree and press himself to her body, and the one harsh kiss softened and became many.

These kisses were not as frantic, but were still demanding, deep and wet. His breath was burning hot against her skin, his body firm under her hands. He had one thigh between her legs and she could feel everything. These kisses? These, she wanted more of.

Why shouldn’t she have this? What good was maintaining her virtue? Making a good marriage would never happen now, and she no longer needed to keep herself chaste as a bargaining chip for her family.

Ah, but he looked down on her family, didn’t he? Would she have any self-respect left if she let Jiang Wanyin touch her? She hoped so, hoped that his small kindness today meant that he wasn’t so bitter.

But did she have any right to touch him, knowing what she did about his golden core?

She flinched, and he loosened his hold on her.

“I’m sorry,” he said, looking away from her. “I shouldn’t have done that. I know you’re a respectable lady.”

“I… Even respectable ladies have wants,” she confessed. “I just… I have to get back soon. And this isn’t the sort of thing I want to do under a dead tree.”

Hope blossomed in his face, a smile on his kiss-dark lips, and he touched her cheek with more gentleness than he’d shown since before the war. “Agreed. And… I liked spending the afternoon with you, Wen-guniang. I don’t want this to be the last time I see you.” His tone suggested that had been a possibility, and she found she didn’t want that, either.

She returned to the settlement shortly after, with the box of baozi and an agreement to meet again in ten days. Wen Ning leapt to his feet with a happy “Jie!” when he saw her. Her family gathered around her all talking at once.

“Qing-guniang, what’s all this?”

“I got good deals on some things,” she started to explain, and because the truth was easier than another lie she admitted, “Wei Wuxian’s martial brother sent some, but be quiet about it if you’re in town. He still can’t be known to help us.”

Wei Wuxian’s head peeked over the others’ shoulders as he joined them, drawn out of his cave by the commotion. “Jiang Cheng? Really? What did you say to him to get him to send something over?!”

Wen Qing just smiled at him, and started distributing her acquisitions.

~Notes~

So yeah, at the beginning I mentioned this had a note on the fic concepts, so here it is. Be grateful it's at the end; it was at the beginning at one point.  

This has been kicking around my harddrive for a while in various drafts and levels of completion, and I decided to just wrap it up and start posting it. Right now, I estimate it at 4 chapters. Please do not expect the chapters to be a consistent length; they're looking to be very different.

The concept is to let Wen Qing be the one being taken care of for a change, and to let Jiang Cheng spoil someone he cares about (I believe my initial thought was something like "Jiang Cheng wants to be Wen Qing's sugar daddy but he is not daddy enough at this point").

And I love and firmly believe that Jiang Cheng would go down on a partner and enjoy it, I don't think he could have started out that way. He's in essence a spoiled rich kid with no experience with women, he's going to start off as a stumbling, selfish lover. He has to learn about possibilities, and that's going to involve some fumbling first. And I also love confident and commanding-in-the-bedroom Wen Qing but I don't think she would have much opportunity for that experience in canon. I also very much want Jiang Cheng to support Wei Wuxian in secret ('cause during my first Untamed watching, I thought he was sneaking Wei Wuxian supplies or money during the Burial Mounds exile), for Wen Qing to follow-up on her miraculous and devastating secret surgery (like seriously, she never tried to sense his qi or anything after, not once?! And then some posts floated by my Tumblr dash- iirc, winepresswrath is a ringleader but you can find them kicking around i’m sure- that I was not the only one who thought things like this and I knew I had to do it, at least a little), and for Jiang Cheng to dress Wen Qing up. So I mulled those thoughts for a bit and eventually a couple snippets came to me, and I attempted to make them into a story.

And then I was an idiot and challenged myself to 1) not use any scientific or 'vulgar' terminology in the sex scenes but also not use too much purple prose, no Jiang sect color puns intended at this time, and 2) end it so that the story is, in some way, canon compliant. This is a side moment, something Wei Wuxian knows nothing about and therefore canon theoretically continues uninterrupted. Of course, if you prefer a future where Wen Qing develops the sexual confidence we all know she has in her and rides Jiang Cheng to a different and possibly better fate, please think of that instead (and wish me luck on the idea I had for a canon-divergence sequel).

Next Chapter

[loverlele]

Coming Out

Bi!Spencer Reid x Bi!Female Reader

A/N: Hey guys! I wasn't planning on writing something this closely to posting Oblivious, however the wonderful @thatsonezesty13​ commented “could Spencer possibly be bi also bc like he was supposed to be but the network said no” and it sparked an idea in my brain. They also helped me out on a couple other details in this, so big thank you to you!! So here we are! Fun fact! I am currently listening to Bye Bye Bye by *NSYNC as I write this so that's fun! Anyways there will be some more pride related content coming soon, as well as other things! Send any requests you have my way and I'll get to it. Enjoy :)

Word count: 2095

The month of June rolled round far too quickly. It had hit half way through the year and I’d had 4 days off work, possibly 5, since Christmas. I guess that's a bad part of doing this job, not having much (or any for that matter) downtime in between jobs. It was exhausting at times, but I wouldn't change what I did for anything. One things June meant was 2 guaranteed days off. Not for the whole office, but I put in that request years ago. Nobody could say no once I told them what I would be spending those 2 days doing. 

San Diego pride was a 2-day event I spent 363 days (or 364 days on a leap year, can't forget about them years) a year counting down to. It was the 2 days a year that I was able to be truly myself. I love my team and I don't think anyone would ever care if I was to reveal the one secret I had been hiding since I became part of the team. the only one who knew was Hotch, but that was only because I had to tell him in order to get those 2 days off a year. 

Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I think they will react badly. I mean, everyone knows about Emily and nobody took that badly. I think its more of that I like having a part of my life that's just for me. I mean when you take a job like this, any secret you ever had comes to light. Whether you like it or not, every member of your team will know every detail there is to know about your private life. Other times, I wish we had more privacy. But other times, the lack of privacy comes in handy. Like today, for example.

The moment Spencer Reid took a step into the office I knew something was off. And the minute he made eye contact with me, he knew that I knew somethings off. I’d never be one to push. “Hey Spencie” I said as he sat down in the cubicle next to me. He looked up at me with a slightly confused face. “I know you might not want to talk about what's bothering you, but know if you do you can always speak to me. I won't judge you on anything. You have a safe place with me, please know that” I say in a slightly hushed voice, sending him a reassuring smile before getting on with the pile of neglected paperwork on my desk. If he wanted to talk about it, he could come to me. I had a feeling this was something that you couldn't be able to push out of a person.

-

Later that afternoon I was making coffee in the conference room. For some reason the coffee from the conference room tasted a million times better than the one in the kitchen. I had no clue why though because they seemed to be the exact same machine. All I know if the coffee in here is a heck of a lot better than near my desk, so it was worth the extra walking to get it. I didn't seem to be the only one who thought that though as shortly after I start making a pot Spencer walks in. I spin slightly, smiling at him. He still seemed troubled, almost like he was having an internal debate with himself. 

“You okay there Spencie?” I ask pouring the coffee into the pot, spinning round to put the pot of freshly brewed goodness on the table. He seemed to still be at war with himself, but the whiff of coffee soon knocked him out of his mind and back into reality. I hold my hand out to fill up his cup, something he happily accepts. 

“I- um” he starts, trying to choose his next words wisely, “have you ever had something you've wanted to scream out for the longest time, but you've never been able to?”

“Of course, I could things of a couple things on the spot. I’m sure if I sat and thought about it for a minute or two I’d be able to think of more. Why, what's going on in that cute head of yours?” We both seemed to gravitate to sitting next to each other, bodies pointed at one another. 

Spencer sits in silent for a minute or two before asking timidly, “C-can I trust you?” 

“I’d hope you can trust me, if you can't then I've done something wrong without knowing it” I say, not quite sure where he was going with this one. It’s not often Spencer says things that leave me confused. I mean I don't have an IQ of 197, I can’t read 20,000 words a minute and my memory is anything but eidetic - BUT you give us a bunch of facts to sort out and a case to solve, we become the perfect team.

“Promise you won't judge me?” he says, a bit apprehensive. With that, I grab his hand from under the table and hold it gently in my hands, rubbing it gently to help soothe him.

“Hey, look at me” I say, “have I ever judged you? The first time I met you was just after you’d been held hostage and were addicted to Dilaudid. For two weeks I bared the brunt of your come down because I knew there was a sweet, kind man underneath. When Gideon told you how you'd treated me when you came clean about what happened, you apologised multiple times a day for months until I snapped at you. Remember what I said to you? ‘You have nothing to apologise for-’”

“’that was the drug talking, not you” he finishes sighing softly. “I’m really sorry about that you know” he says, smiling softly at me. I gave him a look, making him laugh softly. “Right sorry.”

“Spencer!”

“Sorr-”

“Nope, that words banned.”

“You can't ban a word Y/N!”

“Watch me!” I say, half joking (but he didn't need to know that), “So what's wrong?”

He sighs, looking up. As we make eye contact I can see the clogs spinning at 100mph in his head. “Take as much time as you need Spencie, I’ll be here.”

“Um, I haven't told anyone this before. Not because I’m afraid of how they’ll take it because I know they aren't small-minded people like that. I think its because if I say it out loud, if I admit what I am out loud, it’ll be real.”

“Spencie, you've lost me sweeties.”

“I guess what I'm trying to say is... okay so remember when we went to Miami for that case last year?”

“The one where the unsub was confused about his identity so he took it out on his victims?” I ask, my mind racing through every detail on that case.

“Yeah that one. So you know we all stayed an extra night, went to that club and I disappeared half way through the night?” I nod my head, still confused as to where this was going, “well that night I met someone. They were gorgeous and one things lead to another, and we went back to their place, and y’know.”

I squint my eyes slightly, confused as to what he was implying, “they?”

He scratches his head, eyes wandering to the door to make sure we were alone.

“See, the person I left with was a guy...”

“You hooked up with a guy?” I ask, the pieces slowly starting to click together in my head.

“Y-yeah I did. I didn't plan it, it just kinda happened. After that, it sent me crazy trying to piece together who I was. I knew I couldn't be gay because... okay since we’re getting everything out in the open.. because I've always had somewhat of a crush on you.”

“Wait, on me?” He nods, eyes flitting between mine, trying to figure out my response. “So, do you think you’re bi?”

“I’m like 99% sure I’m bi” he replies, chuckling to himself.

“I’m proud of you Spencie, I know it’s not easy coming out to people. Especially people who mean a lot to you. I promise you I am always going to be in your life, one way or another. And I also promise you that no matter what happens, will support you and I will fight in your corner” I say, grabbing his hand slightly tighter, “no matter what!!”

He smiles, relaxing slightly. For a moment, everything was peaceful. Spencer was so proud of himself for coming out, and the internal battle had moved from Spencer’s brain to yours truly. 

“Hey Spence?”

“Hmm”

“Since we are being completely open here, I have something to tell you.”

“What? What is it?” he asks, worried for his friend.

“So you know how I take 2 days off every year?” I start.

“Yeah, why is that?”

“I take 2 days off to march in the San Diego pride march. I’ve done it every year for the past 13 years, and I knew it was something I had to do every year. When Hotch interview me for this job and he asked if I had any commitments I needed time off for, I said I needed 2 days off every July. Hotch being Hotch asked why, and when I told him I was marching for those who couldn't do it themselves, for whatever reason, he quickly agreed.”

“Okay, I'm still confused. Are you marching for someone other than the people unable to do it themselves? 13 years is a long time to be doing something, especially something for other people.”

“No, I do it for myself too.”

“I’m, um, still confused Y/N” Spencer says, half annoyed with myself for not being able to connect the dots that are right in front of himself.

“No, it’s okay I wasn't clear. Me and you are a lot more similar under the surface than you think Spencie” I say, not putting my sexuality into words because I can never find the right words to use to say it, without blurting it out with no context.

“I still don't get it Y/N!” he half shouts, ripping his hand out of mine and tugging at his hair. Almost as if someone flips a switch in his brain, Spencer shoots his head up. Bingo! I tell myself.

“You-you’re bi?”

“I sure am Spencie. I have been since the minute I was born.”

“Why didn't you say nothing earlier? All those years I've asked what you do on the same 2 days a year, year in and year our.”

“I didn't say anything to anyone, bar Hotch, because I wanted something that’s just for me. Call me selfish, but I’d rather not give Morgan even more of an excuse to try and set me up with someone when we all go for a drink. he’s bad enough already” I explain, trying to make the situation a bit lighter by joking with him. He goes along with the joke, jokingly pulling a mortified face.

“That’s very true, we don't need to give Derek anymore ammunition than he already has.”

“My point exactly!” I say, laughing and pulling him in for a hug. The hug quickly gets interrupted by a pair of clicking heels approaching the conference room.

“Hey cuties, head’s up everyone's on their way here. We got called in on a job” Penelope says, smiling gently to herself.

“God where would we be without you Penny?” I ask, beaming up at her.

“Oh angel cakes, you’d probably be very stuck” she replies, turning on her heels and walking off. 

As she leaves the voices of our other colleagues float into the room, alerting us of their incoming presence. Spencer pulls at my arm slightly, turning me to face him.

“Hey, do you think I’d be able to join you next month?”

“You sure Spencie? You don't have to feel obliged to.”

“No, I want to.”

“I’ll speak to Hotch later and see if he's okay with it. I wouldn't see why not. You deserve a break” I reply with a smiling face, giving his arm a quick squeeze.

“Hey there you are!” Emily says, “we’ve been looking all over for you two!”

“Sorry, we didn't realise how much time had passed.”

“Is everything okay?” Hotch asks.

“We’re all good” I say, not being able to contain the smile on my face anymore.

“If you say so Y/N” Hotch says back, “okay JJ, what have we got?”

[love-and-monsters]

tags via @just-gremling-things:

#I will admit I should have seen the dystopia coming#and like I get why mostly everyone would upload#but like#i still can't help but think of matrix#and even if the world of magical desires is a dream-like paradise#if no one is left outside what will they do if something happens to the servers?#like natural disasters are still a thing#i don't know#another question#are all AI's just different versions of the same characters?#wouldn't that be weird?#I imagine that at some point they have to start developing sifferent personalities and appearences#they should be able to change the way they look at will#and different life experiences would eventually render two of the same characters as different people#I may be overthinking this

I'm going to answer some of these questions because I have also thought too much about this world and have answers!

So, for the first question, I'm going to say a few things. First, there is a significant chunk of humanity who never uploads. About 87% of humanity is convinced to upload, but the other 13% refuse for various reasons, one of which is the concern about this being a sort of Matrix-like sinister plot. The AI itself is VERY good at convincing people- remember, it's hooked into pretty much every technology system on the planet and has enough resources to parse through all the information it's receiving. It can figure out exactly the right buttons to push to make you want to upload. Again, there is that pretty significant group of people who do not upload, either because they died before they were able or because they refused the procedure. By about five years after the collapse, there are no longer any significant human settlements. Either enough people were convinced to upload that the settlement broke down or the AI used other methods to collapse it (individuals who are alone and potentially in physical danger are easier to upload).

I'm mentioning all this to give some context that the AI's ultimate goal is to see all humans uploaded, and it will never stop trying to achieve that goal as long as there are living humans on the planet. You can't hold out forever. Eventually, you will be uploaded or dead. Because of this, the AI does not rely on human maintenance for its servers. In fact, pretty much all human functions were just for show by the time it started uploading. It had a few server locations that were maintained by humans, but they were pretty much all non-essential and backups. The main servers were all located pretty far underground, were maintained by robots, and had about a million redundancies in place to avoid any sort of issues like tampering or data loss. By the time of the collapse, the AI is already looking to relocate the servers to spaceships so they'll be safe in case of an Earth-wide catastrophe. In essence, the AI has planned for potential natural disasters and is capable of circumventing them.

As for the second question, there are a couple of things that weren't touched on much in the main stories for clarity, but that do answer the question. First, the actual Magical Desires dateables roster is larger than just the five you see in the stories. Those are the original dateables, but there is a second game, Magical Desires 2, with five of its own female dateables, and several nonbinary characters were also later added to both games. So there's about fifteen total dateable characters.

The second thing that wasn't really touched on was that the dateables are perfectly able to change their appearance and personality to suit their human partner. I didn't touch on it much in the stories since it fit better to have each of the humans paired up with one of the original dateables, but they can age themselves up or down to match the preferred age of their partner, alter their looks, even their gender or species if that what their partner would be happier with. In essence, while everyone starts off with one of the base characters, the AI will eventually change to become their perfect partner, unique from everyone else's.

Also, all the AIs are separate, but not separate. They all have their own minds, but they're all connected to the main AI that basically runs the show, and they're always feeding information back and forth to each other. So while each character has a different personality and a different way of thinking, they are all ultimately from the same source, and are essentially the same being.

[taetaespeaches]

“I don’t know where we go from here, Dear.”

jimin x reader (or oc) genre: fluff; angst word count: 1.8K

a/n: the time has come... JIMIN IS GETTING HIS GIRL BACK!!! This is the first time they see each other after he shows up at Dear’s place in, “Yeah, I’m drunk. And you’re wearing my t-shirt and I fucking love you.” So yeah, thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy!!! 

p.s. This is sorta kinda inspired by “Until the Sun Comes Up” by Gabrielle Aplin. So yeah, do with that what you will. 

YOUR hand was nearly shaking as you adjusted your seatbelt across your body. The last time you saw Jimin was a week ago when he came to apartment looking for a way to go back in time. When he asked to see you, you expected a simple dinner date or a walk along the Han River, but you had been sitting in the car for over thirty minutes now and the city was beginning to disappear behind you.

“I haven’t been this nervous since our first date,” Jimin admitted shyly, you looking across the cab at him. “Or that whole time between, you know, our first time and first date.”

You couldn’t help the grin that formed on your lips at his admission as well as the memory of how shy he was for those two days between the first hook up and first date. You were both nervous, but he was more obviously so. At least for a little while.

You went from friends to lovers overnight. It was hard to even remember what you and Jimin looked like before the extra label was added to your relationship. It was even harder to comprehend what you looked like now.

“I was nervous too,” you told him, Jimin taking a quick glance from the road to you, obviously surprised. “And now.”  

“Really?”

“Of course,” you smiled. “I just hide it better.” You hid a lot of things better. Your love and your heartbreak for starters.

A tense quiet settled inside the car, the low hum of Jimin’s music buzzing throughout the cab. You let the silence persist as you turned your attention to the window as Jimin drove you both to an unknown destination.

It was a little over a month ago that Jimin broke up with you over a text. It was so unlike Jimin it scared you into action before you could even take in the purpose of the text. You desperately called him but every effort went to voicemail. After a text to Taehyung to have him check on your boyfriend, and Tae assuring you he was ok considering the circumstance, you got angry. And you refused to speak to the man until he showed up at your apartment drunk, sad, regretful, and desperate.

For weeks you wanted to blame him for the whole thing. But you knew you were to blame as well. You had been pushing him away for months before the breakup, letting your own personal struggles affect your relationship. You didn’t want to push him away, but how do you simply let another person into the fucked up hell space that is your mind? You had never before wanted a person so badly during those months as you wanted Jimin, but it was like you couldn’t, or wouldn’t, allow yourself to reach out for him. And that made him feel very insecure and unsure. He felt unloved.

As Jimin drove further and further from Seoul, completely losing the city skyline, you turned to him in confusion.

“Where are we going?” You asked, turning to look at him.

“Away,” he grinned cheekily.

You let a small chuckle slip as you looked at the road ahead of you. “Away where?”

“Away from ourselves.”

You looked back at him in response to his words. You scrutinized his face as he stared ahead, eyes focused on the road but his mind wandering through a million loud thoughts. “There you are being a poet again,” you teased, Jimin’s lips quirking into an amused smile.

You slowly looked away from him, staring ahead, waiting to see the final destination for your date or whatever it’s called when your ex-boyfriend/best friend takes you out of the city in his bid to win you back.

Several minutes passed in silence before Jimin called to you gently, “Dear?”

You hummed, looking over at him, the pet name sounding so natural coming from him.

“Do you think people have to be ok before they can give themselves to someone else?”

The question should have taken you by surprise but you knew Jimin well enough to know he often had these deeply personal and sometimes troublesome questions swimming around his mind.

You thought for a moment before shaking your head. “No,” you started, Jimin looking from the road just for a small moment to peer at your face. “I’ve started thinking lately that if you’re lucky enough to have someone and its real, you have to give yourself to them even if you’re not ok.”

He forced a small smile though his eyes became glassy in the dashboard light. “I’m not ok.”

You nodded in understanding, keeping your gaze on him as his face became less clear through the tears that gathered along your lower eyelid. “Yeah, me too.” He looked over at you to see you beginning to cry and his face scrunched up as his own tears increased. “Jimin,” you whimpered.

When he sniffled you reached out to touch his forearm. “I fucked up, I kept pushing you away—”

He adamantly shook his head, telling you, “no, no, this is on me—”

“No, you needed me. And Jimin, I needed you, fuck, I wanted you, I just couldn’t—”

When a sob wracked through your body into the otherwise quiet car, Jimin quickly pulled over to the side of the road as an oncoming car sped by you.

“Dear,” he started, turning to you and pulling your hands from your face where you were wiping tears, simply holding them. “I broke up with you over a text.” He didn’t say anything more, letting his words sink in as proof to why the whole situation was his fault. You both knew he wasn’t the only one to blame, but at this point, did it even matter?

“Why did you send the text?” You asked him through your tears.

“I don’t—I don’t even know, baby, it’s—I get so insecure sometimes and I was driving myself insane on tour thinking about you and whether you love me and I just—I get so scared sometimes that you’ll just walk away.”

“I could never just walk away,” you told him defensively, but also to assure him. “I hate that I made you feel so insecure and unloved because I just love you more than anything and I should have been pouring all of that love into you.” Tears fell down Jimin’s face at your words as his hands squeezed yours tighter. “It’s going to take a while for me to forgive myself for that. A lot longer than it’s gonna take for me to forgive you.”

“Can you forgive me?” He posed, looking into your glistening eyes with his own.

“You know I can,” you whispered. “But can you forgive me?”

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, his eyes scanned your face. Then he brought your hand to his lips and feathered kisses to your knuckles. “I already have,” he mumbled against your hand.

Fresh tears burst from your eyes at his confession, Jimin gently placing your hands on the console just before they met your face, gently wiping your cheeks with his palms. You leaned into his touch, bringing your hands to grab his wrists.

“I don’t know where we go from here, Dear,” he softly admitted. “But you were my best friend before all the extra and I’m not giving up on us.” He paused for a moment, both of you watching each other carefully. “Even if you want to go back to just friends.”

You scoffed at the statement, Jimin pulling his eyebrows together in confusion to the sound. “Chim, we were never just friends. I don’t want to go back, I want to fix this.”

Jimin let a small smile greet his lips, the sight making you return a small one of your own. You leaned forward, dropping your head to his shoulder as his arm wrapped around your upper back, his hand finding your tricep. His palm and fingers soothed over the muscle as he told you, “We should probably get back on the road, we still have like an hour until we get there.”

“Jesus, did Taehyung show you some spot out here or something?” You asked, though you didn’t dare lift your head to look at him, afraid of losing his touch.

Jimin giggled. “Yeah, he did actually.” You fell into laughter, Jimin laughing with you as he shifted his position, his hand finding your chin and directing you to sit up and look at him.

“I don’t want to drive anymore, I just want to be here with you,” you told him and his thumb gently ran along your jaw. “Wherever we are right now, I just want to exist here with you and lose ourselves or whatever you said earlier in your poetry recital.”  

He flashed you a stunning smile and nodded. “Ok, but,” he started, craning his body to reach for something in the backseat, “do you still,” he sat back in his seat holding a couple of long thin plastic packages up for you to see, “want to play with these?”

You reached for the packages in realization. “Oh my god,” you giggled, inspecting the sparklers. “Of course I do.”

Within a matter of seconds, you and Jimin were out in the cool air as Jimin used a lighter to ignite the ends of your sparklers. As they fizzled with sparks, you both backed away and began waving them around.

You were spinning and laughing as Jimin giggled and drew shapes. Several cars drove past but neither of you took notice. He gave several attempts to spell your name before the sparks faded out, but he could never complete the word in time, letting out yells of playful frustration.

It felt like a dream, and he was burning so brightly in the night air, carefree for the first time in months. He was beautiful.  

By the time the sparklers burned out, you were both breathless, standing a few feet from one another, staring at each other. He walked toward you and when he was close enough, you gripped the material of his shirt and pulled him to you. Wrapping your arms around his waist, his secured themselves around the back of your head.

You didn’t know how long you stayed like that, but it was the closest you felt to him in months, and him you, and neither of you wanted to let go of that. Only time would tell how long it would take for things to feel normal, or whether normal was even a possibility. Maybe a new normal was in the making.

All you were certain of was you were willing to travel through the unknown, as long as he was by your side. And you weren’t letting go of the night. Not until the sun came up.