#also he might be a bit sickly?

[quibbs126]

Ai generated Cookie number 5, this is Cabbage Rose Cookie

Again not too sure of the name, since cabbages aren’t really part of the design at all, but it’s just the name of the rose, so eh

I quite enjoyed this one, though I do also kind of wish there were more lighter colors too

I actually have a bit in terms of this character’s whole deal as well. So Cabbage Rose is young (probably no older than 15) and quite small, and has a meek sounding voice that never goes much higher than a whisper. If you were to meet Cabbage Rose normally, he’d seem rather fragile and a bit of a pushover. However, despite his meek demeanor he is incredibly powerful, able to carry his heavy sword and easily cut down large enemies. He’s used to people looking down on him and underestimating his abilities, but at the same time he’s aware enough that he understands why. Also, he’s missing his left arm, as he lost it in a battle. I imagine he comes from a noble house of roses, but as of currently he’s more a wandering warrior

I enjoy him and I hope you do too!

[miraclespin]

While it's a popular headcanon, or seems to be at least, I do not think that Joker can be canonically considered to be albino, since his skin would be much paler than it is, otherwise. (To say nothing of the question of whether or not he has any visual impairments, which is a personal pet headcanon of mine, but is also not clearly confirmed either way.)

However, I do still think that it is an interesting idea to play with for an AU. It adds a tiny bit of an extra dimension to his nocturnal tendencies/lifestyle.

[dandyshucks]

actually i think Guz would secretly love when I have high fatigue days because he would use it as an excuse to laze around for a day, if anyone tried to ask him to do something he'd act all shocked and offended that someone would even dare suggest he leave his poor suffering partner alone on a day where they're unable to do anything at all, he must be their sole entertainment, don't you see he's doing this for them!! responsibilities must wait on the backburner for the day so he may tend to his sickly victorian-by-the-seaside waif of a partner !!! (all said jokingly with a great deal of dramatics and mock horror)

[cordeliawhohung]

Core, what about a bit of competition with ps! Gaz? Some new girl who think's she's already the darling of the studio takes a liking to Gaz, but finds out about his ties with reader.

The one time she gets to film with Gaz, she overplays her role and absolutely covers his neck, collar, shoulder, everything with hickeys, hoping it will deter the reader.

So imagine her shock when the next day, she pops into his dressing room and finds the reader in there as well, applying foundation over the marks and littered with dozens from Gaz himself. ❤️

(I realize how dumb this sounds as an ask but it's been rotting my brain for days and I desperately need it gone so I can focus on my college classes 😭)

thanks this has also been rotting my brain because i just love putting people in their place (: more ps!gaz here <3

The crux of your ass sits in perfect place on Kyle's thighs while your legs straddle the expanse of his hips. Warm hands rest on your waist as you manhandle his jaw, tilting his head side to side to get better access to his neck. Thick, round hickeys litter the delicate skin around his throat and down to his shoulders in angry, red pinpoint marks that break the beautiful and even tone of his skin with something revolting. They look like proper bruises rather than the after effects of a... wild video shoot. As if someone had tried to strangle him rather than make love to him.

You remember the video well, along with that new model with her fake blonde hair and even faker tan that they had paired Kyle with to shoot the other day. You had only seen her in person one time, and you vividly recall the way her blue eyes rolled over your body, assessing every inch of you before ultimately deciding you were worth very little time. Confidence was a must when you worked in the porn industry, but her attitude borders on an arrogance you haven't seen since your teenage years in public school.

As you apply yellow color corrector onto the dark marks on his skin, you nearly shiver as the images of her stained lips suckling on Kyle's neck flood your mind. There was little room to feel jealousy about her ravaging your favorite co-star when you were too busy cringing. So childish. Over zealous. You nearly cried tears of laughter when you noticed Kyle's expression, grimacing at the wet tongue and annoying teeth that nipped at him, yet still having to pretend to enjoy it. Even the comments on the video joked about it.

Put him back with the other model.

"If I didn't know any better, I would have thought someone tried to strangle you," you tease.

"She might as well have," Kyle sighs. He adjusts his shoulders against the back of the chair, bare pecs flexing with the movement, bringing your attention to the uncovered marks that line his collarbone. "Haven't been able to go out in public without a goddamn turtleneck 'cause of her."

You chuckle as you finish applying and buffing out the rest of the color corrector along his skin. It leaves him looking sickly and discolored, which oddly enough is an improvement to what it looked like before. Setting the corrector to the side, you grab foundation next, hips swaying as you attempt to get some movement in your aching knees. Holding that position for so long without moving had them burning with fatigue.

"Need a break, doll?" Kyle prompts, hands sliding from your waist to your thighs.

"Don't know if we have time for a break. Got a lot of ground to cover before we start," you humor.

Kyle sits forward, throwing you off balance, yet he doesn't let you sway very far before his arms wrap around you, hands supporting your back. Adoring eyes crease as a grin floods his face. Even without the aid of studio lights he glows like a god as he leans closer and places a kiss on your neck.

"Show can't start without us," he says, teeth grazing your skin as he wanders down to your collarbone. "Could always give you a few hickeys to match, if you want."

He doesn't wait for you to answer before his tongue glides across your clavicles just for his teeth to follow right after. A chuckle rumbles in his chest at the tightening of your legs around his hips, and his hands only pull you closer. It doesn't take much for you to give in. Head rolling back, muscles melting as his lips conquer everything you're willing to give him. It's a delicate softness mixed with a brutal bite, something that leaves you gasping as he pulls the very air from your lungs and feeds on the sounds.

Kyle is more starved for you than usual. Sick of the fake, over dramatic screeching he got last week with that other model, he's hungry for the real thing. Hungry for you.

The unopened foundation falls free from your loose fingers and rolls along the floor into some forgotten corner when his hands wander underneath your shirt. It's a dance he has memorized; unclasping your bra without a second thought and tearing both it and your shirt off in a single, swift motion. He gives you little time to recover before his mouth is on your tits, kissing a sparse trail until he's rolling a perky nipple between his lips.

His bare skin feels like heaven underneath the palm of your hands as you grip his shoulders for stability. He'd take you on the cold, dressing room floors, you knew he would. A part of you wanted him to. Fuck the shoot, they should've learned well enough to put cameras in the dressing rooms by that point with how handsy Kyle Garrick always was with you.

"Can't wait until we get on set to try and undo me?" you ask breathlessly.

"Doll, I'll undo you right here and then again on set if you asked me to," he mumbles into your skin.

A quiet squeak interrupts your moment and the ambiance of the room shifts when the door to Kyle's dressing room opens. His hands grow stiff against your spine as you look over your shoulder at the figure in the doorway. You smell her perfume before you recognize her. Something drowning and floral, like a mall department store. It burns your nose, yet you're too distracted by the slack-mouth surprise etched onto the features of the new blood's face.

It's cute; her confusion. How her eyes flicker over your bare back and Kyle's hands pressed against your skin like he's cradling the only thing he cares for in the world. The dots just can't quite connect in her mind as to why he hasn't completely fallen for her yet, as if the only way she knows how to lure men is by butchering their neck with discolored marks. She can't comprehend why he'd rather have you in his lap than her.

Kyle draws a shocked groan from you when his teeth nip at your shoulder, and your eyes have no choice but to fall away from the woman in the doorway as he pulls you closer to him. His chin gently rests on your shoulder as he stares at the model, hands moving to rest on your hips.

"Need somethin?" he asks, bored.

There is very little you wouldn't have given to see the look on her face, but the small huff followed by the door slamming shut is good enough. Small giggles rattle your body as you lean back to get a better look at Kyle, as if your body would throw a fit if he wasn't within your sight. There's an inexplicable relief that floods his face as he looks up at you, and he mirrors your smile.

"What?" he defends. "Only asked her if she needed somethin."

"I think you broke her heart," you patronize.

"She'll live," he mumbles, lips falling against the crook of your neck again. "Your heart is the only one I care about, anyway."

[wabatle]

Blue Lock boys when you're on your period featuring: Reo, Rin, Bachira, Nagi can be read as either afab!reader or fem!reader warnings: everything that comes with having a period (obviously) like blood, pads/tampons, cramps, etc a/n: I'm on my period as I write this and it fucking sucks. lmk if you want a pt2 with more characters!

☆彡Reo Mikage

As soon as he figured out you got your period, he was all over you

Constantly asking if you were okay, if you needed anything, if you wanted to go home if you were out

Gets you the most high quality and expensive products 💀

Does so much research on what it is and how to take care of you

Genuinely will skip practice or important work (or other stuff he does) to stay with you

If you have bad cramps, he's insisting you stay home and in bed and he'll dedicate himself to taking care of you

Weirdly good at discrete spot checking. If you think you bled through your pants, he's got you.

He's especially careful to not hurt you because he knows you can get upset easily, and he might laugh a little bit if you're crying over something miniscule

You came out of the bathroom, a sickly expression on your face.

“Is it that time of the month?” Reo asked nervously.

“Yeah, that would explain why I felt so sick yesterday.” You mumbled.

“Here, come here,” he said, allowing you to crash into his arms, “I'll take care of you, baby.”

“Huuuh…” You mumbled into his shoulder.

“You okay, baby? Need any ibuprofen?”

“Yeah, probably…”

“Okay.” He kissed your head. “I'll go get some. I can also get your heating pad if you want it?”

“Yeah, thanks…”

“‘Course! I told you I would take care of you, babe. Now, go lay down. I'll be back in a sec.” He kissed your head.

☆彡Rin Itoshi

Also all over you, but in an indirect way

You're constantly on his mind, he's worried about you

As worried as he is about you, he would still choose to go to practice, but he'll stop somewhere on the way home to get you something, and he'll come home if you need him urgently

He buys you literally everything you need, pads, tampons, you name it, he'll go out and buy it

He doesn't change his behavior when you're on your period, but he does take notice to your intense reactions, like that time you starting sobbing hysterically after he told you practice was stressful and just wanted to go to bed (didn't have time for you)

He keeps a little “period emergency kit” with him at all times 🥺 he needs to make sure he can give you what you need just in case you're out in public and you need something

You and Rin were out to dinner and you had gotten your period the morning before.

“Ughh…” You mumbled, clutching your stomach.

“Cramps?” Rin asked quietly, as not to embarrass you.

“Yeah…”

“Here,” he said, pulling a heat pack out of the kit in his pocket, “go to the bathroom and put this on.”

“Rin…” You smiled, “Thanks, baby.” You took the pack and went to the bathroom.

When you got back, your food had already arrived.

“How is it? Do you feel better?” He asked, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

“Yeah, thanks.”

“If you need anything else, let me know.” He added, leaning across the table to kiss your head.

☆彡Meguru Bachira

Another who's all over you… literally

He's really really worried when he sees you crying on the bed because of cramps, but he really doesn't know what a period is or what it does to you

Brings you tons and tons of snacks because he really doesn't know how to help you

If you don't stay over at his house, he's texting you all day. In the morning, before you go to bed, he's just making sure you're not dead!

Steals his mom's period supplies to give to you. It might not be the exact brands you like, but you appreciate the thought

Skips practice for you with the excuse that “it's that time of the month and you really need his help” but you're actually lying on the couch with a heating pad watching a movie

Bachira burst through the front door, carrying tons of snacks. “Hi baby!”

“Woah, you're home early. Welcome home!” You smiled from your spot on the couch.

“Thanks! I brought you tons of snacks!” He dropped the snacks on the table and plopped down on the couch, snuggling close to you. “I got out of practice thanks to your period!”

You giggled. “Don't thank it yet. I'll probably cry about it later.”

“Don't worry! I'll take care of you!” He said.

“Thank you, baby.” You kissed his cheek, making him giggle and kiss your lips back.

He got up and grabbed some snacks. “Let's watch a movie!”

“Ah, shouldn't we have dinner first?”

“Noo, you're on your period! I have to treat you well today!”

“And that means skipping dinner?”

“Do you want to skip dinner?”

“No, not really…”

“Then let's order takeout! What do you feel like having?”

☆彡Seishiro Nagi

Sooo tired, but he'll put up with you (he loves you so much)

He’ll hold you sooo tight while you're cuddling, and he'll keep playing his game

He tells you to relax in his arms and make sure you took your meds, and he'll want you to fall asleep while he plays his games

In his eyes, it just means he has to take care of you instead of the other way around, so he'll do the least he can do

Another one who would 100% use you as an excuse to get out of practice

Literally has a small bucket of pads, tampons, and other “period stuff” on a shelf so he can just grab it without getting up

If he notices you're more emotional as usual, he'll be like, “are you about to get your period?”

and then he'll mentally prepare himself for it

You had just dropped your water bottle, causing it to open and spill everywhere. You were crying.

“Don't worry about it, angel.” Nagi assured you, grabbing a paper towel to mop it up.

“I–I’m sorry… I–I didn't mean to…” You mustered through sniffles.

“Don't cry, baby.” He pulled you closer to him, resting your head on his chest. “I took care of it.”

You put your forehead on his chest, and he could feel your tears staining his shirt.

“Come on, angel. Let's go back to bed.”

“But it's 3:00 pm?”

“Doesn't matter. You need to take more meds anyway. It's been 6 hours.”

“Okay…”

He kissed your head. “Don't cry. It's a hassle.”

You playfully nudged him, already feeling better. “Well, you're my boyfriend, so you're obligated to take care of me.”

“Says who?” He asks, plopping down on the bed.

“Says me!” You giggled, plopping down next to him.”

He pulled you closer and pulled out his Switch.

[candiehearts]

Living is the best revenge

Paring: Spencer Reid X Saved F!Reader

Summary: There was one rule — don’t get involved romantically with the job. It would cause more damage than good, that was something Spencer truly believed. However, a certain damsel in distress might have shift his point of view.

Warnings: Contain themes of; Kidnapping, acts of violence. Brief mentions of; near death experiences.

Taglist: Just ask to be added to this taglist.

I felt another tear fall down my cheek, while the man in front of me traced the dull side of his knife down my face. A cruel smile dancing across his face. He ripped the cloth from my mouth – allowing me to speak, but even so I couldn’t with the tremble of my lips.

“Scream for me.” What kind of sick twisted game is this? I could feel myself wanting to be sick, but I kept my mouth close. Crying silently.

“I said scream!” His voice raised, and the anger in his eyes flashed like a fury of lightning, and he brought his knife to my thigh. Ripping the skin and sticking it deep. “Plea– Please!” I cried out, my eyes burning, but not as much as the sensation in my thigh, when he ripped the knife out.

My head hanged, and I watched as the pool of blood bled off my leg. “There we go.” The cruel smile was back, and his sickly calm voice replaced the one filled with rage.

“Now, time for the finally.” My throat felt raw as I tried to beg him to stop, but he didn’t care. He grabbed the gun from his waistband, and walked behind me.

I felt the ropes, that were rubbing my skin raw, loosen. Soon after he untied each foot from the legs of the chair. His rough hand grab my shoulder so tightly – and I couldn’t even focus on that pain before I was reminded of my leg.

I stumbled – trying to find my footing, but the pain was too much. “Stand up.” His voice commanded that anger from before slowly starting to return.

By now I started to feel dizzy, from the pain, blood loss, emotional trauma. Take your pick. “I said stand up!” From the corner of my eye I saw his fist with the gun raise, his hold on my arm tightening even more. Then before I could blink, he slammed the handle of the gun onto my head.

I started to fall, but he kept his tight hold on me, and started to pull me down a hallway and then I saw a light. For a moment I thought it was heaven – but I was removed from that dream by the pulling and pain.

“Pick up your feet.”

Slowly but surely I placed one foot in front of the other, walking up the steps. When we were off the steps, and a floor above – you would think this is a normal house, and this man didn’t have a basement where he liked to torture people.

“Out back let's go.” He pointed the way to the back door, pushing me. By the time I felt fresh air hit me, I also felt blood slowly start to fall down my face, from where he hit me before.

All around us were woods, nothing else. You couldn’t even hear the crickets, but maybe that was blocked out from the beating of my heart. Scared from what could possibly be my last moment alive.

I felt him push me roughly on the ground, and even though I felt the dirt burning my cuts – I was silently grateful for the pressure releasing from my leg.

The world around me blurred, and finally focused on him. Right in time to hear the click of his gun.

“Any last words?” I slowly looked away from the blurring gun, and used the last bit of energy I had to look this bastard in the face.

“Go to hell.”

My voice cut through the night, rough, raw, most of all tired. His cruel smile turned into an pure evil smirk – and the universe had really delivered. “Gladly.”

Bang

The shot rang out, then another, and another. My eyes screwed shut, waiting for the relief of death. However instead of his gun firing off, it dropped from his hands, before his body dropped as well.

I watched as he started to cough up blood, heaving it, but that’s not what I wanted for his last moments. I felt myself push, and craw to his body.

I saw his eyes focus on me, and I couldn’t help but laugh. “In your last moments, everyone, everyone, can see you for who you are. Even yourself.”

He coughed more blood out, and I saw him start to look away, but I wasn’t done. I felt my body move on instinct. I gripped his chin as hard as I could – making him see me.

“Pathetic.”

I felt someone grab my shoulders, pulling me away from him. “It’s alright. It’s over.” I focused in on the man, and silently pleaded. “I want to walk out of here.”

“Okay, alright. Wrap your arms around me.” I did as told, and pulled myself up, while he picked me up. Once on my feet – I felt myself start to fall to the ground again.

Instead of pulling, pushing, or dragging, I felt his embrace stop me from falling. And even though I was practically dead weight – he kept me up right.

Black dots started to fade into my vision, and a happy thought drifted into my mind. I outlived him, even for a minute – I won.

“Hey, hey, listen to me – focus on the sound of my voice.”

I felt his hand cradle my face, he was warm, and his hands were soft. “The medics are here. I’ve got you, I’m here.”

“Let me die.” I choked out to him, pleading for my misery to end. However I didn’t get an answer, at least not one I heard before I felt myself being placed on a stretcher.

The last thing I saw before it all went black was the burly-ness of red, blue, and white lights.

3RD POV

Spencer felt your blood dry on his hands, during the ride to the hospital. He had always made a point to not ride in the ambulance with a victim, let alone wait for an update at the hospital.

He should drive back home. He shouldn’t be here waiting outside your room, when he should sleep – before he has to work another case.

However this case has really struck him, he had seen so many innocent lives ruined at the hands of killer sadistic psychopaths, but the look of utter despair you had on your face before you blacked out struck him.

“Let me die.”

Your voice echoed in his head, a broken plea. And despite how much he didn’t want to admit it but when he saw you, you were so utterly beautiful. You had mascara falling down your face, along with blood coming from an open wound that no doubt gave you a concussion. Your bottom lip was busted – and you couldn’t even walk.

That didn’t matter though. Because he saw your strength, your resilience, and it pained him to hear at the very end, right when it was over, that you wanted to give up.

So maybe that’s why he’s here. Silently staring at the ground during the late hours of the night. Visiting was over – but he gave the lame excuse that he was FBI and needed to be with you the second you woke up so he could ask questions.

“Dr Reid.” He felt his head look over to the nurse, and she made a small tilt of her head, a gesture for him to come inside now.

His body felt heavy as he raised himself off the chair and walked into your room. You didn’t bother to turn your head to get a good look at him. Instead you just looked off to the side, your gaze unfocused because even though you were physically in the room, your mind was in that basement.

“Hello, I’m Dr Reid.” His voice felt tired, but that was nothing in comparison to yours. “When can I leave Doc?”

“I’m actually not that kind of doctor, a common mistake.” He cleared his throat before trying to put on a more professional voice. “I’m with the FBI behavioral analysis group. Can I ask a few questions?”

All you would have to do is say no, and he would immediately back off, but if you did he didn’t know if he could actually leave you alone.

“What do you want to know?” Your throat felt better, you were more hydrated, but it was still raw from all the screaming you did.

“Did you know the man who attacked you?” His face flashed into your mind, his cold eyes, and evil smile. “No. What’s his name?”

You finally turned your head to look at him, and instinct took over as he reached his hand out to slightly hold yours. “Elias Green. He tortured and killed three more women before you.”

“I survived. He’s dead and I’m not.” The room was quiet, and pure grief and anger took over your voice. “So why does it seem like he won? Why is he ruining me beyond the grave?”

“There’s not many people who know what you're going through.” You felt Spencer slightly trace one of your fingers. “But, the reason he’s haunting you, ruining you, is because you're just as dead as he is – and you need to find a reason to live. Not survive.”

Spencer knew what it was like, to be tortured – even when your torturer is dead. The only reason he was able to breathe again was simply because he had found it in him to stop surviving, and instead live.

After all, living is the best revenge.

“Are there any other questions you have for me?” You wanted this interview to end and yet, “No, I can leave if you like,” you didn’t want him to walk away.

“Stay.”

With that simple command Spencer pulled a chair closer to the bed, and held your hand throughout the night, and silently slipped out early in the morning when your parents came to check up on you.

Every night you felt Spencer’s presence. Everytime you wake up from a nightmare – he was there to comfort you. Then you were released from the hospital.

The first week out you didn’t see him, and to be fair you didn’t expect to. Despite how much you would love it. You never gave him your number, or even your address, email, the list continues.

He had no way of contacting you, and you didn’t expect him to. However it was taking everything in him not to use the number Garcia gave him.

Spencer was already working on another case. One that when he had finished he felt exhausted. Yet he could feel the piece of paper with your number on it, burning in his pocket. A constant reminder of you.

He shouldn’t get involved – it’s a bad idea. A mantra he repeated in his head. A loop, one that everytime he heard he resolved grew less and less.

Just how bad could it be?

Should he initiate contact? What if you wanted nothing to do with him? Surely you were trying to block out every aspect about what happened – him included. Right?

He walked into the flower shop, and he had decided on pink roses. They symbolized; admiration, gratitude, and budding romance.

“What’s the note you want on them? And where should I ship them honey?” His fingers felt for the paper in his pocket, and right under your number was your address. One he repeated, as he silently hoped that this chance he was taking wasn’t going to blow up in his face.

A knock at the door pulled your attention away from the book you were reading, a record playing faintly in the background.

Placing the book onto the couch beside you, you made your way to the door. You made sure to look at the peep window before you felt yourself reaching for the gun you bought. You kept the gun by the door, and a taser by your bedside, and another in the kitchen.

You cracked the door, keeping your arm hidden from the man – the man who held a bunch of flowers.

“Special delivery.” You silently grabbed the flowers, muttering a small thank you before quickly closing the door. Making sure to double lock it.

You placed the gun down when you saw his van drive away, and then took the time to appreciate the flowers.

They smelled amazing, but what took most interest was the note placed in it.

“Pink roses: Symbolic to budding romance and admiration.

703 - *** - 4074

— SR”

A smile graced your lips when you read the initials. SR. Spencer Reid.

Grabbing your phone you felt a slight flutter of excitement, yet nerves as you dialed the digits.

“Hello, DR. Spencer Reid.”

“Budding romance huh?” You felt your nerves vanish at the sound of his fumbling.

Spencer knew you would get the flowers today, but yet he had convinced himself you wouldn’t call.

He felt heat rise up his neck as he silently cursed himself for dropping his pen — causing ink to fly everywhere.

“Hi. Hi. I uhm.” He silently hit his head on the table as he thought of what to say. “Unfortunately uhm is all I got.”

You couldn’t help the light laughing leaving your lips as you decided to put an end to his misery.

“You know my address — how about I take you out to dinner? Call it my thank you for saving my life.”

Reid didn’t know what came over him, but he felt his inner Derek come out.

“Or we can call it a date.”

“It’s a date.”

Navigation — Rules/Main Masterlist

Spencer Reid Masterlist

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Clockwork tells Danny that he's the clone of a vigilante named Jason Todd who died before he was created. Danny freaks out and goes to find out more about his "real dad" after Clockwork refused to tell him anything other than that Clockwork kidnapped him from an orphanage for time-stream reasons after he was dumped there for being born sickly.

Danny had so much pent up resentment about his parents being crappy and neglectful and at times even outright abusive. To think he might have had a family out there, even if his dad is dead there must be other members right? He just needed to find them

Danny arrives in Gotham and stares at Jason's headstone, not sure where to go from here. He lays down a bouquet of flowers as it starts to rain causing him to tuck the Infi-map into his jacket to safety. He begins forming a mental checklist when he gets spooked by a man greeting him and introducing himself as Bruce Wayne.

Danny, being from another dimension and just arriving today didn't show any recognition to his name, which Bruce noticed immediately. He also noticed that this little 10-ish year old kid looked a lot like Jason.

Like his mini.

Like his clone.

Bruce Wayne later proceeds to go try to find any info he can on "Danny Todd" but nothing seems to be coming up. Yeah, Bruce didn't actually think Dannys story about being Jason's long lost cousin would be true but he also didn't expect to find absolutely nothing on this kid.

Legally he didn't exist.

He and the other bats kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. For this kid to do something. Instead he kept looking for info on Jason. It was...weirdly innocent things too. Once he found out Dick knew him (but Dick didn't tell him from where) he asked all sorts of questions, like what was his favorite colors? Did he have a favorite season? What were his hobbies? Favorite animal? Dick started getting a bit overwhelmed by how much this clone wanted to know about Jayson.

I wonder if this fic would be better with Jason being alive or if he was never revived...hmm.

[strang3lov3]

Midnight Snack

Roman’s the only one who can get you off. (3.2k)

Tags - stepdad!roman, dom!roman, stepcest, dubcon/noncon, manhandling (i can't believe he has it in him either), manipulation, coercion, oral (f!receiving), fingering, unsafe piv, creampie, dom/sub, roman's icky as usual. sorry. Also daddy kink. Sorry. Fic help - @noxturnalpascal, @beefrobeefcal, and @endlessthxxghts tysm for all that you do! ♡ A/N - he’s baaaaaaack!! It’s gonna get worse before it gets better. Hope you’re all sluts for ickiness like me. I have so many plans for daddy romey, I might have another fic coming out this week. Peer pressure works on me jsyk. Also might do a new sleazy gynecologist Roman au. We’ll see ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ at least a one shot. Thots? Feelings?

Follows Boundaries but can be read as a standalone 🩷

Stepdad!Roman Masterlist

You don’t know it, but Roman can hear you. Roman’s been listening to the ceiling above him - your floor - creak for hours. Sometimes vigorously, sometimes gently. On and off, all night. Your bed creaks too. Soft springs groaning and squeaking as you hump your pillow, the pillow Roman laid his head on as you rode his cock. Can you smell him in your blankets? Have you washed his stains off your sheets yet? And through the air vents, he can hear your frustrated whimpers, your strangled, broken moans. Poor thing. You can’t come, can you?

The bed creaks loudly, louder than those rhythmic noises it made before. And then there’s muffled footsteps, the sound becoming clear as you open your door and walk down the hall, down the stairs. Shifting a bit on the couch, Roman looks over his shoulder and watches as you open a cabinet and grab yourself a glass. You fill it with crushed ice and water from the fridge, then drink it all over the sink. The TV’s on in the living room, volume barely audible, bluish-white light flickers like lightning. 

Roman’s footsteps startle you as he stands up from the couch, you whip around to see him stretching his back and his shoulders as he yawns. “You’re up way past your bedtime, young lady. It’s…” Roman squints and checks the time on the oven, “Late.”

“Couldn’t sleep.” 

“Yeah, I could tell,” Roman says, walking into the kitchen as he scratches the back of his neck. “You’d be surprised at what you could hear through the walls. Very thin, very, very thin.” He brushes against you as he opens a cabinet. His soft, white t-shirt rides up and exposes his soft tummy and the dark hairs spattered down it as he pulls out a ceramic bowl. You step to the side, uncomfortable with his touch but Roman continues to invade your space; he puts his cold hand on your hip to nudge you out of the way so he can open the silverware drawer. He paces around the kitchen some more, opening other cabinets until he finds his Tupperware container of Cinnamon Toast Crunch, then opens the fridge for his carton of almond milk. He makes himself a large bowl of cereal. “Want some?”

“No.” You bring your glass to your lips and chew on the leftover ice, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. 

Roman watches you, eyes scrolling up and down your body slowly. You’re fidgeting, you’re uncomfortable. It’s written all over your face, evident in your body language. Shoulders curled inward, arms crossed over your chest, you’re keeping your distance from him. So defensive. You have to be, of course. Roman will exploit any and all vulnerability in you that he can find. He smirks as he eats a spoonful of the sugary cereal, a bit of milk dribbling down his bottom lip. 

It wasn’t really news to him, your feelings. He found it unsurprising when he read your diary and learned the ins and outs of your feelings for him. Sickly-sweet fantasies about him making love to you, detailed and romantic descriptions of his handsomeness. Puppy love. It seems that’s all gone now, and it’s funny how quickly it happened, replaced with nothing but disgust. Disgust at Roman himself, maybe. He thinks that more than likely, you’re disgusted by yourself. Being confronted with your feelings in such an intimate, vulnerable, shameful way did a number on you, huh? It almost makes Roman sad, and he wonders if that puppy love is still inside you somewhere, buried deep beneath the guilt and humiliation.

“You toss and turn a lot, you know that? You’re a restless sleeper, just like your mother.” 

“Fuck off.” 

“Jesus. I can’t make conversation with you? You’ve had such an attitude with me recently, and I don’t - I don’t appreciate it. I thought that maybe we could chill and watch TV like we used to, but sure - I’ll just fuck off, thanks.”

Roman kind of misses those nights with you. He wasn’t lying or making another comparison of you to your mother just to get under your skin, though he knows how well that works on you. He has a hard time sleeping in the same bed with your mother, can’t quite drown out the snoring or tolerate the tossing and turning. He spends a lot of nights on the couch in the living room. You used to join him there when you couldn’t sleep either, when your sheets and your pillows felt too hot and suffocating. You and Roman would watch shitty horror movies and Saturday Night Live together until you fell asleep, and then you’d share quiet, dark mornings alone together until your mom woke up. Your head on Roman’s lap, him gently stroking your hair. You used to feel safe around him. 

You need to remove yourself from this situation. You dump the ice out in the sink, then place your glass on the countertop. It all sounds so loud in the quiet kitchen. You shove past Roman, causing him to spill some of his cereal onto the floor. He lets out a breathless laugh, irritated. He slams the bowl of cereal down on the dining room table then follows you, you’re already three steps up the stairs. Roman grabs your arm and yanks you down the steps, causing you to stumble and yelp. He catches you, clutches you against his chest. You’re reminded that he’s stronger than he looks.

“You, sweetheart-” Roman drags you by the arm back into the dining room, his nails digging into your skin,  “-Need to remember who’s in authority here. Who’s living in whose home, huh? You don’t get to fucking walk away from me when I’m talking to you.” Roman backs you against a wall, his hot breath fanning over your neck. Your jaw is clenched, your body so rigid and hard like glass, on the verge of breaking into a million pieces. You’re just defensive, that’s all this is and good for you for having that fight in you. Roman knows you’re delicate underneath it all. He’s seen it, seen how small he can make you.

All it takes is a knee between your thighs, Roman pressing himself against your center, and then you gasp, melt a little. All of your fire snuffed out with a simple, dull touch. He knows you. You’re his stepdaughter for fuck’s sake, and so easy to read he could find you in a book. All bark, no bite, and easier than you think you are. Roman’s eyes dart across your face as he breathes heavily, a smile curling on his lips. 

“You know what I think?”

“Shut up, Rom–”

“No, you shut up. I think you’re in a mood because you can’t make yourself come. And you’re taking it out on your stepfather. Kinda fucked up, don’t you think?” It makes Roman’s cock swell when your pupils widen and your jaw goes slack at his words, your bottom lip wobbling slightly. He’s vulgar on purpose; intentionally lacking any nuance or subtlety when he speaks. He needs to get under your skin, make you squirm for him. “Ohhh. There it is. You’re busted, young lady.” 

You twist your arm in an attempt to wriggle yourself out of Roman’s grip, but he holds you tighter, pressing his knee harder against your cunt. You’re beginning to soak through your shorts, through his plaid pajama pants. You’d thank god he can’t feel it yet, but does it matter? One way or another, he’s gonna find you soaked for him. Your tummy flutters when Roman’s long, deft fingers push your hoodie up your body so he can find the drawstring of your pajama shorts, tugging the knot undone. 

“I heard you, you know,” Roman growls against your ear. “You sounded so frustrated, kiddo. Your fingers just aren’t - aren’t quite doing the trick anymore, huh?”

“Please,” you whimper. 

“Please what? Be specific, sweetheart. Please make you come? Do you need daddy to make you come? You miss how daddy fucked you?” Roman smiles at how he taunts you, how uncomfortable his words make you as you writhe under him, wriggling your hips away from his knee. “Is that it? Do you miss me, is that what this is?” 

You use the hand that’s not gripping Roman’s wrist to shove his chest, knocking him away from you only slightly. Kudos to you, getting a shot in, making your daddy proud. The fight only serves to excite him. 

Roman pouts with feigned displeasure. “Ouch,” he says, “I’m hurt, sweetheart, so hurt. Maybe I miss you. Not miss you, miss you. But…you know.” Roman tilts his head to the side, cautiously letting go of your arm to bring his palm to your face. You flinch as you await his touch, a gentle caress across your jaw. He uses his thumb to tug on your bottom lip, then releases it. 

“Look at us, here like this. I know you’re hot, too.” 

You shake your head, No, but your body betrays you. Deep, trembling breaths, pupils widened with lust. Roman knows when he dips his slender fingers into your cunt, you’ll soak him, slick running down his digits and into his palm. Maybe he’ll make you lick it up.

“I could make you come. I could do that easily, actually. You know that. Remember?”

He shoves his hand down the front of your shorts, and it feels cold and unwelcome, but familiar all the same. He glides his fingertips through your folds, relishing in the mess he caused you to make. It makes you feel sick, giving him this satisfaction. You tug and tug on his forearm, trying to force him away from you. This can’t happen again. “Roman,” you beg.

“Shh - just quit…fuckin’...” You’re scratching him, leaving little marks on his skin that’ll burn when he showers later. You’re making things much more difficult for him, more difficult for yourself. Don’t you know how much better you’ll feel when he makes you come? You poor, stupid thing. All out of sorts until daddy calms you down. “Rela - hey, relax. Don’t fight it. Quit fighting me.” 

Roman drops his knee to allow himself space to touch you the way he wants to. He circles your clit with just one finger, patiently rounding the sensitive bud. You’re still all tense, full of combativeness, of aggression. While massaging your clit, Roman waits patiently for you to soften. “This is what you want,” he whispers. His eyes are glazed and lidded, silky strands of hair cascading over his face. “I know you need this.”

You fall apart for him. It’s palpable, your reaction. Guard lowered, you tilt your head back, your shoulders drop slightly, you unclench your jaw. “Roman,” you sigh softly, the relief evident in your voice. He’s successfully molded you into compliance. 

 “Yeah, that’s it. Over here, come over here.” Roman pulls his fingers from your core and you whine in frustration, he shushes you with an I know, I know. Roman spins you around and backs you against the dining room table, then sets you down. He pushes chairs out of the way and cringes at the loud sound of the legs scraping against the hardwood floor, then drops to his knees. He wraps his arms around your thighs and pulls you closer to his face, causing the bowl of cereal on the table to slosh slightly. He hooks his thumb under the fabric of your Halloween print pajama shorts, utterly soaked with your arousal, and pulls them to the side. You’re glad he doesn’t say anything about it.

Before Roman tastes you, he looks up and gazes upon your body - your soft tummy heaves up and down with heavy, anticipatory breaths, your thighs are twitching and spread wide, your fingers gripping the edge of the table so hard you could make the wood splinter. And your face, desperation painting your features as you stare down at your stepfather. Oh, how he likes you like this.

Roman spits on your cunt before he licks it, causing you to gasp. He watches the bead of saliva roll down your folds as you grip his hair, fingers tingling as you tug those sleek, graying strands of his impatiently. You shouldn’t be pulling him closer. It’s wrong, it’s all so wrong. Roman’s on his knees for you and really, he should feel vulnerable right now. It’s a submissive position in and of itself, being on one’s knees for another. Theoretically, if you found the strength within yourself, you could snap his neck. Easily. But you won’t do so much as push him away right now, and Roman knows this. Not while he’s using his mouth to part you open and explore your cunt, tongue drawing up and down your soft, slick folds. “You fucking need this, don’t you?” he murmurs, slowly slipping two fingers inside your wet heat. “Tell me you need me.”  

“I need you, Roman,” you whimper, pushing his head closer to your center. Roman rewards the admission by curling his fingers, stroking that sensitive space inside of you. All you can do is hold yourself up and take it. 

Roman’s tongue is hot as it laps against your clit. You’re still tugging on his hair, holding him close to you, whimpering his name in broken syllables. As Roman finds a rhythm with his tongue, you rub your thumb along his forehead, his temples. You’re soaking his face completely as he eats you, his tongue pumping in and out of your tight, dripping hole as he noses your clit. He digs his fingertips harshly into the flesh of your thighs, bruising your sensitive skin. You can take the pain, you little slut. 

There’s a gnawing thought in Roman’s mind to pull away and leave you like this, teach you a lesson for that fucking shoulder check and the shove. But he finds himself addicted to the taste of your pleasure and needs to know the feeling of you coming on his tongue. 

But not tonight. Roman pulls away and wipes his face against the soft skin of your inner thighs, causing you to whine in frustration. Good. Roman groans as he stands up, knees cracking. Fuck, he’ll be sore tomorrow. He already is. 

Roman pushes the elastic waistband of his pajamas down his hips, freeing his cock from the confines. Even under the lack of light, you can see how red and angry Roman’s cock is. He’s throbbing, aching to be inside you once more. 

Roman spits in his fist and grips his aching member, a low groan escapes his throat. He smears that pearly bead of precome at his slit right over your sensitive clit and you moan at the contact, watching as he drags the head through your folds, just barely notching it inside of you. 

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” you whimper urgently, reaching for his cock. You try to stop him from going further, but god - how you missed the warmth and the weight of his shaft in your hand. 

Roman pulls your hand away and continues to tease you, dragging the tip up and down, pushing himself in and out of you. “You’re right,” he says. “It’s wrong.”

“It’s wrong,” you nod, panting while tilting your hips as he runs the thick head of his cock back and forth over your clit. 

“That’s why we like it.”

With that, Roman fills you with a slow, steady slide inside your cunt that has him moaning. He holds the back of your neck, pointer finger at your skull to tilt your head down and make you watch as it happens, his cock disappearing into your body.  “Ohh, fuck,” he groans, pulling out of you about halfway before pushing in again. 

You wrap your hands around his shoulders and clutch the worn fabric of his white t-shirt as he draws in and out of you, his scruffy cheek right against yours. He rolls his hips at a punishing pace and looks at you, wrapping your legs tighter around him. You’re so pathetic. 

“Rome - fuck - Roman,” you whisper, then bite into his neck to quiet your cries.

 You’re drooling, spit dripping down onto his collarbones. It makes Roman smile. “Listen to you,” he murmurs. “Trying so hard to be quiet, aren’t you?”

You nod against him as he fucks you, the mahogany wood table groaning and creaking with each of his thrusts. Roman pulls back, a string of saliva that connects from your lips to his throat breaks. He shoves the two fingers that were inside your pussy into your mouth, “Suck,” he commands. 

You suck his fingers, humming at the tanginess of your own arousal. From this position, you can see his face clearly. His hazel eyes are black with lust, hooded and glazed over. There’s something both human and robotic about the way he looks at you as he pumps his cock in and out of you, like he’s a slave to his own biological needs. He moves into a deep and hard rhythm, now wriggling his free hand between your writhing bodies. He paints those same steady circles against your clit with his thumb, just like he did before. “You gonna come for me? You gonna - fuck - you gonna come on daddy’s cock?”

You nod, Roman’s fingers still jammed down your throat so that tears are beginning to spring up in the corners of your eyes. He watches your face contort as the pleasure begins to build, almost exponentially. Your eyes squeeze shut and your brows knit tightly together, you’re biting on Roman’s fingers and there it is - your orgasm washes over you like the tide, waves of warmth and electricity flowing over your body with each roll of Roman’s hips. “Yeah, you fuckin’ needed that,” he breathes. “Fuckin’ needed me.”

Your own climax coaxes Roman’s along, and he pulls his fingers from your mouth. Your pulsing cunt, the slick noises you make together - it all goes straight to his stomach, directly to his balls. His cock is throbbing as he empties himself into you with a deep and guttural groan, filling you with his come. He fucks you through his high until his his thrusts slow to a standstill, then pulls his softening member out of your body. 

Roman takes satisfaction in the fact he has to ease your trembling legs onto the floor, your hips too sore to move on your own. He rubs his thumbs soothingly over your hip bones, and it makes him feel needed in a more gratifying way than by getting you off. 

Roman reaches for his bowl of cereal, little white splashes of milk decorate the table around it. Oops. He wipes that up with a paper towel, along with his spend that leaked from your body. He then takes a bite of his cereal. “That actually worked out perfectly,” he mumbles, mouth full. “My Cinnamon Toast Crunch is nice and soggy, so yeah - thanks for the uh…I don’t know. You know.”

Roman walks back into the living room with his cereal, and you’re still by the table, standing awkwardly. The floor under your bare feet is still warm with Roman’s body heat. You pick at your fingernails anxiously. 

“What are you doing in there, kiddo?” Roman calls from the couch. 

“I don’t know. I’m not tired.”

Roman loudly pats the couch cushion next to him, inviting you to join him. You’re not sure what compels you to do it but you do, sitting on the sectional with your knees tucked under your chin. Roman watches you, tense all over again. Your thighs are covered in goosebumps. He takes the edge of his plush, oversized blanket and tosses it over your legs, then turns up the volume of the TV. 

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[fatallyfalling]

Secrets & Sugarcubes ~ ♆

“ Sugarcube ? “

{{ Finnick Odair x Reader }}

warnings: hurt/comfort, typical Hunger Games violence/trauma, mention/insinuation of forced prostitution, ptsd, soft reassurances, possible slight ooc?? Finnick fears physical touch, end is very fluffy with some slight cuddling, etc.

{{ word count }} 4.0 k

{{ Prompt }} The two of you had a game, a way of trading secrets when the world felt too big and a simple touch felt like a burn on Finnick’s skin. You always made sure to keep a tin of sugarcubes in your kitchen just in case.

{{ a/n }} I swear i know how to write happy things guys i promise akfkakkdka the next one will be tooth rottingly sweet i promise please bear with me >< ! I hope the length of this one makes up for it being a day late as well. This also might seem a bit ooc for Finnick? Not sure - but here is my full headcanon, I'd suggest reading it before this to better understand why Finnick is behaving the way he is as it's explained a bit more in-depth. Reader and Finnick are also rather affectionate with one another but there isn’t an established relationship yet between them. Please enjoy <3

Tip, Tap, Tip-Tip, Tap

Your door creaked under the coded knock, a beat of silence following before it was repeated on the old wood. Your nose scrunched in a perplexed manner, groggily padding down the stairs in your night clothes to your front door, a glimpse at the mahogany grandfather clock in the entryway tells you it’s well past midnight. Your confusion pooled into a sense of concern as cold fingers gripped the metal door handle and gave a firm tug. You knew the knock and who was behind the door as you started speaking before even meeting his gaze, the scent of almonds and honey tainted by a sickly layer of Capital roses filling your senses.

“What’s going on? It’s late. You should be asle-“

Your sentence was cut short as your gaze met a pair of bleary sea-green eyes. You knew the look too well as a frown settled on your lips, your shoulders sinking with your heart as you took in the male before you. “Oh, Finn..” You mutter as you open the door further to let him inside. He hesitates in the doorway, looking lost, but you give a flickering nod of encouragement, convincing him to cross the threshold.

“Come on, I’ll make some tea..”

Nodding towards the kitchen, he wordlessly treks after you. Finnick’s steel-colored dress shirt was well wrinkled, unbuttoned to his clavicle, and sleeves pushed past his elbows. His face didn’t look much better than his suit. His bronze waves were messy, brows sewn in with a tight jaw, and hunched shoulders added to an unsteady demeanor. You could only assume what had occurred earlier in the night while attending the latest Capital party before the famed “Capital’s Darling” appeared on your doorstep. The growing pit in your stomach churned at the thought, and a muscle fluttered in your jaw as you led the victor deeper into your home.

Settling into what sometimes felt like a nightly routine, you get to work on the tea. You also place a small tin on the counter before Finnick, his gaze dancing between your fingers and the tin as you do so. His hands were trembling.

“I think the sweater you left the other day is upstairs. I can get it if you’d like,” You offer while setting the kettle to simmer on the stove. Finnick shakes his head with a soft, tight-lipped hum. He was distracted, flicking his thumbs against the pads of his index fingers over and over again.

“I thought it might help to change...” You allow while stumbling over an apology. You round the counter in a retreat to hunt down the knit item. But you misjudge the distance. Your shoulder accidentally brushes his in a fleeting move that instantly causes recoil and a sharp inhale on Finnick’s part as if he’d been singed by a flame.

“Please,”

The word was strained in his throat as anguish flooded his tanned features. Your eyes widened at your misstep, immediately backtracking to provide more physical space between you. But your frown only deepens as you stare at one another for a fleeting moment before Finnick all but crumples in on himself, descending to the hardwood floor.

Heartbreak splinters through your chest like a knife, bringing yourself down with him as knees meet the polished wood with a thud. Taking further notice of his trembling, it spread up his arms and across his torso now, fists bunching the fabric of his sleeves. The victor wet his lips as his eyes screwed shut, visibly trying to push back whatever threatened to plague his mind.

“I'm so sorry Finnick. Hey, hey- it’s okay, it’s just me, I'm here. I’m sorry, you’re safe with me. You’re going to be okay,” Apologetic pleas pour out in whispers, your head tilting to see beneath the bronze waves blocking his eyes. “You’re safe here,"

He doesn’t respond, only wetting his lips again with a thick swallow that moves his throat up and down. Your lips press to a thin line as you scan around you for anything that might help break the darkness obscuring his senses. Your own thoughts swim with curses for your mistake before your vision finally connects with the small forgotten tin on the counter. Cautiously you rise to retrieve it, your movements are slow, ensuring your hands remain within view, and keeping a safe distance between Finnick and yourself. Once the cool metal touches your skin you wrap your fingers around it, returning to kneel before the distressed Darling on your floor.

“Hey, do you remember our game ?”

A small ‘click’ chirps out as you open the tin. Dozens of small white sugarcubes sparkle inside, gently shifting to let the tin rest between you two. Finnick’s eyes peek out in a squint, dragging his gaze down to the tin and then back up to fixate on your face. He gives a tiny nod to indicate he’s listening, the trembling doesn’t stop.

“Okay,” you manage a small, warm smile briefly as you dip your head to peer into the tin. Plucking four cubes out, simultaneously sweeping your calves out from under you for a more relaxed sitting position, you gently place two near his knee while keeping the other two in your hand.

“One for yes, two for no,”

Gesturing to show the two options, gaining another nod from the trembling victor. At least his attention is focused on the sugar now. Sometimes it took much longer to bring him back enough just to open his eyes.

This was what Finnick Odair hid behind showboating grins and that “Golden Boy” Capital mask. The poltergeists of sticky, unwanted Capital fingers and lips left dozens of invisible burns engraved on his skin. You’d caught the bronze-haired male regularly picking an invisible piece of lint off his shirt or whichever shiny garment the stylists forced him to wear. Soon enough you managed to decipher the minute gesture as a tell to when the discomfort the tanned male felt on his skin too often was starting to eat away at his thoughts.

Never quite free of the forces from previous nights.

It tore open your heart to see him like this. Thrown to the mutts of the Capital under President Snow’s threat of his loved ones being tortured or worse killed if he didn’t comply, there really was no escape from the taloned clutches of winning the annual Hunger Games.

Nobody escapes The Games, and nobody ever wins.

As much as you desperately wanted to whisk the 65th victor away from his position he wouldn’t let you even if you tried, claiming he couldn’t bear to see you come into harm's way and that he’d rather endure the torture just to keep you safe. The seeping guilt you felt was immeasurable.

“I’ll begin, you just answer with the sugar okay ?”

Another small nod earns a second weak smile tugging at the corners of your mouth to reassure him.

“Are you okay ?”

There’s a pause as Finnick thinks, eyelids squeeze shut again but soon open as a shaky hand gently moves the tiny pieces of sugar forward.

Two cubes, ‘no’

“Are you hurt outside ?”

Two cubes, ‘no’

“Are you hurt inside ?”

Another pause, and then he gently scoots one of the cubes backward.

One cube, ‘yes’

“Can you tell me what hurts inside ?”

Finnick hesitates, his brow twitches with a small crinkle of his nose. You wouldn’t pry if he wasn’t ready, you’re patience was strong and you’d spend all night passing sugar on the floor if it meant he could find peace of mind. “You don’t have to say anything you don’t want to,”

Finnick didn’t have many choices or say in life due to his position in the capital, so you found providing clear options to be rather grounding for the Bronze-haired male. It gave him a sense of stability and control over himself and what was occurring around him. Keeping the questions of your game simple and to the point in turn made his responses quick, a distraction technique you had picked up a while back to combat your own struggles post-games.

Two cubes, ‘no’

“That’s okay,” your small smile strengthens as you give him a tender look, not of pity but empathy. “Can I help?”

One cube, ‘yes’

“Please…”

The repeated word is barely above a whisper. If you hadn’t been hyper-fixated on him you might not have caught the parting of his lips that dripped the morsel of sound. His gaze has moved up from the floor to meet yours, wide sea-green irises soft in a pleading expression. You simply nod, assuring him you’re staying right where you are. The tension in his body visibly releases as the reassurances seem to sink in. Gingerly, he releases his biceps, picking at an invisible speck of dust on his sleeve. He drags a hand through his tousled hair before taking it down his face to rub his eyelids. He inhales a deep, shaky breath. You let him take his time to recuperate. Once his hand returns to his lap and he meets your eyesight you resume the verbal questionnaire.

“Do you want your sweater ?”

One cube, ‘yes’

“Okay, just a second,” you smile warmly, he nods, and you slowly stand, making your way upstairs, finding the ivory knit sweater on your bedroom dresser right where he’d left it. Turning around, you retrace your steps back to the kitchen, making sure to avoid the steps that creak louder than others on your way. “Here you go,”

Placing the sweater down as you return to sit with the Darling, he waits for your hands to leave the fabric before picking up the thick material and tugging it over his head. It takes a minute to adjust the layers and his sitting position so they’re comfortable but when he’s done the steel grey button-up collar peeks out from under the angled neckline of the ivory sweater along with the tails of the neutral fabric sticking out under the bottom hem. The ends of the sleeves are stretched around his fingers to mimic mittens. “Better ?” You offer while he takes a moment to breathe in the familiar scent. The smell of Capital roses is quickly suffocated in his familiar warm almond and honey cologne mixing with your scent clinging to the sweater. A sweet smile softens your cheeks as he allows a small lopsided smile with a nod and a hum, the corners of his mouth twitching up at the comfort.

“Very much so.”

“Good,” you nod, “Do you want the citrus tea you like so much? The one with the cinnamon?” Quirking a brow with a small tilt of your head.

“mhm,”

One cube, ‘yes’

“Very well,” you smile sweetly, rising again to move back into the kitchen. You gently open a cupboard, plucking a viridian mug off the shelf for the Darling along with your usual mug. A delicate clink echos in the otherwise quiet space as you set the ceramics on the counter. Finnick has turned to peek up and watch.

His sea-green eyes were still big and pleading, not really ready to stand but also not wanting to be away from you. With the counter cutting off just below his irises and his bronze hair tossed around and fluffy like that you couldn’t help being reminded of a small puppy. You mouth another reassurance with a wink as your cheeks warm, pulling open a drawer to pick up two small objects. They’re burnished silver spheres of metal, split in half but held by a tiny latch and speckled in countless minuscule holes for the nectar of the teas to slip through.

Reaching for two narrow jars on your counter you slide them towards your workspace and unstick each lid with an odd “pop”. Whisps of warm cinnamon, citrus, cloves, and black tea mix with the scent of herbs and spices more aligned with your tastes. The teas were a luxury gift from Mags on your birthday a year or two ago. You only use them on special occasions or nights like these.

You take a small spoon and gingerly press the correct amount of leaves in each steeper, adding a few extra to Finnick’s as he preferred a more prominent flavor. Afterward, you lower the metal orbs into their respective mug and quietly clean your workspace. Once the items are back in place you turn and just about jump out of your skin with a yelp of surprise as the tea kettle’s shrill whistle sings loud and clear.

Quickly you fumble for a cloth on a hook beside the wide farmhouse sink. Wrapping it around the heated handle of the kettle you remove it from the flames and onto an unused burner before shutting off the stove. Your heart pounds as adrenaline courses through your veins like lightning. A curse dances off your tongue but your embarrassment is short-lived as a coy chuckle fills your ears, wrapping around your senses like a soft blanket. A relieving warmth weaves its way through your ribs and melts the icy heartache as you hear Finnick laugh again. Turning towards the sound you spot the bronze-haired male now standing at the counter, his forearms leaning on the cool stone. His hands are barely trembling now although his eyes seem far away but his demeanor has seemed to regain its footing, a flickering of his naturally charismatic aura passes through his pointed-to-white teeth in the form of a lopsided smile. Color has started to ebb its way back into his tanned cheeks. That warmth in your ribcage spreads up your neck but you try to shove it back down. The components of your game; all four sugarcubes and the tin are sitting beside his elbow on the counter. You cross your arms over your chest loosely, narrowing your eyes at him in a playful manner.

“It’s not funny,”

“You’re right it’s hilarious,” Finnick drawls, his tone cocky.

An exasperated huff puffs out your chest followed by a sarcastic roll of our eyes. “There’s the Finnick Odair I know and Love,” You sigh, mischief flickers in those sea-green eyes. Carefully bringing the kettle over after it has a moment to cool you pour the boiling water as evenly as you can before returning it to the stove. A comforting quiet falls over the two of you while watching the liquid within the mugs change color. Eventually, your gaze shifts to watching Finnick slowly build a tiny pyramid out of the sugarcubes. The pristine wall of white crystals stands for all but ten seconds (not even) before the victor’s gentle tap sends it crumbling.

The joy from moments ago dissipates into something melancholic.

“Are you okay…?” You ask again, a crease forming between your brows as you search his sea-green eyes for any signs. Finnick gives you another tight-lipped hum, his smile has slipped away and you notice the set in his jaw returns. His gaze shifts from his folded hands to the sugar close by and hesitantly plucks up two of the four pieces.

Two cubes, ‘no’

“Still inside…?”

One cube, ‘yes’

“Still no touching?” Your voice is tender in a reassuring manner.

Two cubes, ‘yes’

Finnick understands that he’s safe. You’ll respect any boundary he chooses. You’re one of his few ‘safe’ individuals that he allows to fully trust besides Johanna, Mags, and Annie. Unfortunately, Annie was always rather emotionally distraught, meaning Finnick couldn’t be around her for long periods due to her tendency to claw at people during her episodes. It broke his heart to see the fire-haired victor he mentored through an awful arena be left so broken and afraid with limited ability to help her. But you did your best to pick up the slack in her care.

You were all damaged people just trying to survive the best you could with the hand you’d been dealt. No matter the cruelty of the dealer.

While caught up in your thoughts, the tea finished steeping. Gently, you slide the viridian mug of citrusy spices towards Finnick, who allows a small thanks and his “compliments to the chef” while plucking two sugarcubes from his fallen stack and dropping them into the burnt orange liquid.

“My pleasure,” you hum, fixing your tea how you like it and stirring the small steeper around the mug before lifting it from the drink and setting it off to the side. Finnick’s steeper soon follows. You’ll clean the sticky residue later.

Hot ceramic warms your fingertips as they curl around the mug, lifting it to your lips and parting them to give a gentle blow. Ripples of tea bounce around the rim, causing the curls of steam to dance around your cheeks. You inhale the Herbs deeply, and a calm feeling washes over your shoulders. The first sip immediately warms your insides as it goes down, observing the same reaction on Finnick as he takes a long swig of the tea followed by a hum of pleasure.

“Don’t burn your tongue it's still hot,” you murmur into your drink, the emitted sound coming out a bit warped. A ghost of a smile crosses the Darling’s face at your words, though he doesn’t reply, preferring another sip of the luxurious tea.

You already knew you wouldn’t hear the end of his dislike for the stinging on his tongue tomorrow from the burn.

You wish to reach out to him, brush your knuckles against his, or cup his stupidly handsome face in your hands, holding him close till all is better, but you can’t. You won’t. His safety and comfort is your priority right now, and you’ll always give him space when asked. You knew all too well what violation of space felt like.

“Are you feeling any better?”

You question the Darling while searching those sea-green eyes for any signs of pain.

Finnick offers a slight nod, casting a glance in your direction while adjusting the sugar.

One cube, ‘yes’

You nod in understanding. Even though the ache inside his chest still hurt you at least managed to help him start to move past it. The two of you stay at the counter for a long while. Secrets pass back and forth via sugarcube and Finnick has another cup of tea. You move in quiet tandem with one another as he preps the tea and you clean up your steeper and mug in the sink. Softly you hum a small rhyming tune from your childhood as you scrub along the inside of your mug, there’s a sense of domesticity in the air and you can’t help feeling more at ease.

Once everything is clean and put away except the sugarcubes you find yourself on your living room sofa, there’s a space between where your knees are tucked up against you and where Finnick sits. The tin of white crystals sits in that space, the Darling victor plucking up cubes every once in a while to suck on. He could eat all of them and you wouldn’t have minded.

The room is dimly lit, just the light from a lantern on the unused desk beside the fireplace. A soft glow is painted across Finnick’s features that makes his eyes sparkle and spread warmth up your cheeks, the tips of your ears surely going red. You try to suffocate the warmth as it threatens to bubble up past your grasp.

As time passes Finnick eventually speaks of what happened. You listen with full attention and offer much sympathy and reassurance once he’s finished. You thank the charming male for allowing himself to be open with you and he admits, “It’s easy to be an open book when it’s you,” and those sea-green irises seem to light up even more. That warmth twists your insides as your stomach does what feels like a backflip. “Thank you…for letting me in tonight,” he murmurs with that perfect smile, the outer corners of his eyes crinkle, and dimples press into his cheeks. The smile you return is equally as wide and sweet.

“Always. I’ll always be here Finn, and you’re welcome to stay here if you want tonight. There’s plenty of space,” You breathe through a slight laugh. The big house you were gifted in Victor’s Village was far too big to have just yourself anyway and this wouldn’t be the first time the Darling spent the night.

With a nod and a pat to the space between you, you nod towards the stairs before moving to snuff out the lantern. Finnick follows, closing the sugarcube tin and placing it on the coffee table. Quietly you two head upstairs, small giggles peppering the air as the stairs creak.

When you enter your bedroom you rummage in a drawer for a pair of sweats you had ‘borrowed’ from the Darling a while ago when it had been your turn to appear at his doorstep with tears in your eyes. “Here,” you speak gently while holding them out. A cheshire smirk creeps over Finnick’s face as he takes the pants.

“So that’s where these went~”

You shush him with a sarcastic wave of your hand, letting him go into the bathroom to change while you move to sit cross-legged on the plush mattress. You preferred sleeping with many soft blankets and pillows like your own nest. It helped you feel safe when alone - though most would end up kicked off or stolen by the furnace of a man you often shared the bed with. Your revenge usually came in the morning as your icy fingers assaulted the warmth of his lower back with a fit of laughter.

You smile tenderly at the thought as Finnick reappears.

“What?” He asks.

That coy smirk is still plastered on his lips as he comes over to sit beside you. “Hm? Oh - nothing. Lay down, I’m tired." You offer with a hum. He nods before joining you under the covers. You face one another, looking into each other's eyes. Slowly, you feel his hand creep over to yours and interlace your pinkie fingers.

“Is this okay?” Those heart-melting puppy dog eyes return. You can’t help the sweet smile on your face and the warmth on your cheeks.

“Always.”

{{ taglist }}

@justtrying2getby

[podcastenthusiast]

Dead Boy Detectives Fic Rec List

Mostly payneland <3 I will update as I find more fics.

“I don’t like this, mate,” Charles muttered.

The Things We Can, and Cannot, Do by MDJensen

Paul Rowland is dead. It's not just that, though.

Oh, Lonely Bones, Have You Forgotten? by DontOffendTheBees

“No,” Edwin agreed, gravely. “Nor do I.”

Frankly, taking this case was probably an unwise decision. The meagre payment offered by the sickly-looking ghost of the old groundskeeper would fall far, far short of the emotional cost of the expedition. And yet when Edwin had looked over to Charles and met his eyes, there had been no doubt, no hesitation. Perhaps it was the notion of unfinished business; that mysterious force that compelled ghosts to sites of personal trauma as sirens compelled sailors to the unforgiving rocks. Perhaps they were both mere gluttons for punishment.

Either way, they were here now. It was with heavy hearts and wary eyes that on the evening of June twenty-sixth, Edwin and Charles – along with Crystal – set foot once more on the grounds of St. Hilarion's School for Boys.   In which a very, very old case is re-opened.

Mom Says It's My Turn to Jump on the Grenade by RoseGanymede95

Charles tried to pay attention, because Edwin was really upset, and Charles still didn’t understand why, and it seemed like this might be important. It was just, they’d been at this for a while, and Edwin kept asking him the same questions and not leaving him time to answer, so. His mind may have wandered a bit to how he would reinforce the next cricket bat. His attention snapped back to the present when Edwin said, “This can’t happen. You can’t risk this, I can’t be the reason you risk it. You have to move on.” “Move on?” Charles repeated blankly. “Move on from what?” “From here, Charles!” Edwin shouted, suddenly furious again, suddenly shouting even though his eyes were filled with tears. “You have to go with Death! You have to leave!” “I don’t want to go with Her,” Charles said, nonplussed. “Fine, that’s your business, but you can’t keep hanging around me!” Edwin snapped. Charles’ world suddenly tilted on its axis, sending everything askew. “I can’t?” he asked, his voice small, his heart wide open and exposed.

Let me bleed instead of you by mellxncollie

The question rang like a cracked bell in what had only just become someplace Edwin had started to contemplate calling home. “What was Hell like?” - Charles and Edwin keep secrets from one another. The list isn't long, but it's not empty. Eventually, they start tumbling out in soft whispers, in tear-reddened eyes, in shocked expressions, in choked up phrases.

Or, 40 years and 8 secrets.

Indelible by Arisprite

Charles is feeling a lot and also not much at all in the immediate aftermath of returning from Hell. He also can tell Edwin is wearing thin from holding himself together. Who wouldn't be, after that? It's okay, though. Charles can take care of him, and he always always will.

Done Running by Asidian

Charles has gone a peculiar off color, all the blood blanched from his cheeks. He glances to the arm, and then back up to Edwin's face. "Any break's a bad break, innit?"

"Some have more drawbacks than others," says Edwin, detached and scholarly. "For instance, unless the nerves are compromised, it is possible to make use of the injured arm in cases of extreme –"

"Bloody hell," breathes Charles.

Joi de Vivre by olympus_mons

Edwin Payne crawls out of Hell twice. Somehow, his problems begin in the aftermath.

so many ways to give in by piilu

“I think there’s something really wrong with me, mate,” Charles sobs, the remains of the bat falling from his hand. ---- Charles struggles with his anger issues. Again.

A Room of One's Own by DarkStars (Worlds_Okayest_Goalie)

Crystal is so tired of watching Charles and Edwin stare longingly at each other. OR 5 times Crystal tells Charles and Edwin to get a room and 1 time they do.

Shape Me by dearheartdont

At least twice a year Charles and his mum packed their cases and caught a train to Birmingham, leaving his dad behind with a freezer full of carefully labelled Tupperware.

Charles Rowland and his relationship with his extended family and heritage.

(Part of a series of snapshots of Charles’ life in the 1980s.)

half of my soul, as the poets say by thegirlofthorns

Edwin existed, just as Charles had. Charles, who occupied a space in loving memory. A much-deserved space – Edwin would have wanted it no other way – but the core of him wanted to scream that he had been here, too. He never would be again, but he had lived, and he had breathed and laughed and moved with too much frippery and frill to continue on breathing, and he had been a whole person, once. And it had not mattered. So looked at CHARLES ROWLAND through tears, allowed himself to. Even Charles's hammer on metal on stone was not enough to dull the pain, but it was enough to remind him that he was still here, even if he was no longer living. It was an awful sound, a jarring sound, and tears shone in Charles’s eyes as he focused intently on carving out the A in his surname, but it was something. They were there, together, and they were feeling.

- Or, Charles finds Edwin's unmarked grave and will, in the lightest of terms, not be having it.

Terrible, Horrible, No Good, and Very Bad by hibye

It was about the torture. The torture he was experiencing presently, and also every minute of every hour of every day, standing alongside Edwin Payne and saying nothing out of the ordinary at all.

O Spirit From The Great Beyond! by InTwainFiction

Edwin is ignoring Charles.

They haven't spoken in almost twelve hours, and all because of a little incident involving some puppies. Yes, said incident may have been Charles' fault, but he has apologised a million times.

Charles is getting desperate to find a way to get Edwin to talk to him again, and a little walk away from the office provides just the thing Charles needs.

He hopes it will get Edwin to talk to him, but at the very least it will be a laugh.

a beautiful day to say goodbye by ofstitches

“The house is… sad,” the client responds.

“Again, we can’t help with selling the house. Maybe try some decorations. That’ll brighten the old place up,” Charles suggests.

“No, you misunderstand. The house doesn’t look sad. The house is sad. It is depressed.”

“How do you figure?” Edwin says, sitting up in his chair now that the client has said something potentially interesting.

or A new case brings up old feelings, and maybe something more.

A Heaven Like They Talk About by LikeMmCookies

After managing to piss off yet another witch, Edwin and Charles are cursed as punishment. Bewildered, powerless, and lacking answers, they face their greatest challenge yet: being human again.

With Edwin doing novel things like picking out shampoo and wearing different pants, Charles finds his body reacting in strange ways to his best friend. He questions if these are new feelings, or if they'd been there all along.

But the biggest question remains - do they stay alive or do they find a way to go back?

being unknown by The_IPRE

Edwin does know Charles, or at least he likes to think that he does. He knows that Charles is far better with the clients than he is, quick to offer a smile or extend sympathy while Edwin is far more interested in delving deeper into the details of the case. He knows that Charles has a wicked swing with his cricket bat, but prefers to leave that as a second resort when he believes there's a way for them to come to a compromise. He knows that Charles chooses to hope for the best from people, even after having seen the worst they have to offer–and in fact, having been killed by it.

As Charles sits in front of him, the strain in his shoulders at odds with the easy grin on his face, Edwin wonders how much of his friend he is failing to see. -- 5 times Edwin didn't press the issue, and one time he did.

The Kind of Light That Means Just Love (When My Baby Smiles at Me) by DontOffendTheBees

“Charles,” Edwin admonished, gently closing his book with a finger tucked between the pages to hold his place. “I have asked you to stop fooling around with that contraption and get some work done.”

“I have been!” Charles defended, gesturing broadly at the higgledy-piggledy array of items around him. Evidently, taking stock of the contents of his bag of tricks was an expansive task. “Taking a break.” He snatched the small square of paper from the Polaroid camera and began to shake it with abandon.   In which Charles partakes in some amateur ghost photography, and Edwin (fondly) bemoans the futility of the exercise.

The Good Left Undone by plutosheaven

Help comes from unlikely places when Edwin is once again faced with a threat worse than death.

the phantoms here will never have their fill by ahyperactivehero (ahyperactiverhero)

Poltergeists are created when a ghost experiences extreme emotional distress. Poltergeists are notoriously hard to reign in, and they almost never gently move on. Neither Edwin nor Charles ever imagined it would happen to them.

Basically, five times where the Dead Boy Detective Agency dealt with the threat of a poltergeist.

XXX

“Once you choose to go down the poltergeist route there is no coming back,” Edwin said. “And I will have no choice but to follow you.”

“You can’t do that mate,” Charles said. His voice had cleared up some, his form less wavy.

“Then do not go where I cannot follow,” Edwin said.

Form 239, Schedule L by sanctuary_for_all

At the top of a small pile of papers was a copy of Form 239, Schedule L, filled out with achingly familiar handwriting. At the top, the word "Approved" was stamped in large red letters.

This Darkness, Enduring by kickingtheladder

“Your son is gone,” they tell her. “It was… an Act of God.”

She cannot think of a single thing to say for a very long moment. And then she has many things to say, most of which are not at all appropriate for polite company. --- Edwin Payne's mother, before and after.

Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow by kickingtheladder

“Your son is gone," they tell her. "He ran away." She doesn't say anything. --- Charles Rowland's mother, afterwards.

dreaming of the things you said / hoping that it's meant by ohmyfuckinggod420

Edwin turns away with a deep breath, ignoring the fluttering in his stomach. His non-existent, ghostly stomach. It seems so ridiculously cruel and on theme for his current situation. Not only is he in love with his best friend, and not only does his best friend not love him back, but he’s feeling things that he shouldn’t be feeling on top of things that he physically should not be able to feel. or

The gang is back in London. Niko is gone, Crystal is on the cusp of a breakdown, Charles is still a flirt, and Edwin is... trying his best.

Oh, and he keeps feeling his pulse. As a ghost. A very dead ghost.

The trouble really never ends.

the ghost of the past that you live in by ObsessedWithFandom

It didn’t start as much. As anything, really. Charles noticed him in the hallways only because he was new, which was rare in Year 11, and because he smiled shyly whenever Charles said hi. Aysar, he’d introduced himself, and Charles liked the way the syllables formed in his mouth. He wanted to be Aysar’s friend.

Or: five boys Charles didn't date, and one he did.

Aftermath by sophisticatedyet

“What are you humming?”

Charles’ polo muffled his question, and the pause before Charles answered was so long that Edwin wondered if he hadn’t heard him at all. But then he said, "A lullaby.”

The answer made Edwin smile bemusedly. “Why? I can't fall asleep.”

“Yeah, duh, I know. It's just meant to soothing.”

“Oh.” Edwin rested his head back against Charles’ chest. “I suppose I do feel quite soothed.”

Dance the Night by Gruoch

“What is that?” Crystal asks, looking Edwin up and down with an expression of abject befuddlement that borders on disgust.

“It is my disguise,” Edwin replies a little stiffly in response to her tone. “You told me to wear a disguise.”

“You look like Margaret Thatcher,” Crystal says flatly. “You’re going undercover at a nightclub, not a library. This—“ she plucks at Edwin’s long tweed skirt, her lip curling— “is not appropriate nightclub attire. You’re gonna attract too much attention.”

“I thought attracting attention was the point of this ludicrous exercise,” Edwin snaps back.

“Yes, the right kind of attention,” Crystal stresses. “This—” she waves a hand broadly at him—“will get the wrong kind of attention.”

~~

In which the gang returns home to discover something sinister stalking London’s party scene after dark, Edwin lets his hair down, Charles’ confidence is shaken, and Crystal pursues a new lease on life (and hopefully doesn’t die in the process).

Everywhere, Everything (wanna love you) by WildCookieKeef

Freedom, as it seems, is suffocating. Decades spent running away from death herself and yet now more than ever does Edwin feel restless. Hell is behind him for the second time. He might’ve escaped his fate of eternal torture, but rabidly approaching are revelations he would’ve kept buried for far longer.

He’d never be so flustered and disorganized if it hadn’t been for Crystal or the Cat King or Monty or the Night Nurse or that horrible witch Esther or Simon, god not Simon, or practically reenacting old Greek tales with his best mate or. . .

No. It’s no one’s fault but his own. If he could sleep he’s sure he’d have nightmares.

Of what? There’s lots to choose from, but he can just feel it. Maybe some spirit malady has taken root in his body. He can sense the tension under his skin. Aches of pain that he knows aren’t physical.

He never should’ve told Charles. What was he thinking?

or After the end of S1, Edwin reasons that Charles rejected his confession and fears the worst while trying to suffer silently. Charles is very bad at letting Edwin suffer in peace.

the eight layers of hell, reversed by Zairielon

There's a lot that Edwin and Charles don't talk about. Frankly, after 30 years together, you don't have to say much for the other person to get the point. But Port Townsend and Crystal and Niko knocked their dynamic off-kilter, and by the time they return to London and finally get back to "normal," "normal" has changed. "Normal" is now Crystal's bright laughter, Niko's earnest affection, and Edwin's faint smiles. "Normal" is an unnameable ball of emotions tangled up in Charles' chest. "Normal" is Edwin looking at him, and Charles hearing those words all over again.

Charles, I'm in love with you.

OR, Charles figures out what it means that Edwin is the only person in the world he'd run into Hell for.

When We Walk Together We Tend To Walk Alone by UneducatedAuthor

She’s never unexpected, but she’s always a surprise. And when Charles meets her, it's nothing like the nightmare he's built up in his own head, being split away from Edwin and cursed to an afterlife without him. She's kind and gentle and familiar, and she gives him a chance to say goodbye to his mother.

Or, the one where Charles meets Death. They have a lot to talk about. But it's okay. They have time.

it's you that i hold on to by lrvzender

A pair of lips press shakily on his temple. Charles Rowland’s blood definitely runs hot, Edwin decides, definitely.

“You’re not asking anything, mate. But you have to understand that you are worth saving, a thousand times over. You are worth knowing, Edwin.”

Something bigger than the whole, wide sky. Something bigger than death, perhaps.

(where Edwin does not ask to be known, but Charles knows anyway)

and your song, it haunts me like hunger does the crow by kay_cricketed

After they return to London, Charles notices an escalation in people approaching Edwin with their attentions. Which is fine! It's not that Charles is jealous. He wants Edwin to be happy and to have a chance at a fulfilling relationship, yeah? The problem is, Charles is aware that Edwin is unpracticed with these kinds of emotions and other people, and it would be very easy for someone to take advantage. And that’s not going to happen, not on Charles’ watch.

To make matters worse, the admirers are getting a little too intense. And Charles is starting to suspect there's more at work than everyone realizing his best mate is brills.

(Or: In which the damage to Edwin's soul across years of torture has had an unusual effect, and Charles needs to fix it before he's compelled to violence. Again.)

trína chéile, le chéile, claochlaithe / entangled, together, transformed by theroyalsavage

Edwin Payne and Charles Roland are not Orpheus and Eurydice. They are not tragic figures of myth, children of gods and spirits, immortalized in verse by the poets of old. They’re nothing special at all – just two boys too stubborn to move on. With that said, however… Edwin must admit that there are certain similarities.

Came up from that lake of fire by ghostinthelibrary

"Are you a zombie?” Niko peers into Edwin’s eyes. “Because the Night Nurse told me zombies exist. Do you hunger for brains, Edwin?”

“Hardly.” Remembering being splattered with gray matter in the not-so-distant past, Edwin shudders. He cannot imagine consuming it. “I’m not a zombie.”

“What about a vampire?” She almost looks excited by the prospect. “We’re only a couple of hours from Forks. It would be perfect!””   When they’re caught during their escape from Hell, Charles and Edwin have no choice but to make a deal: they have one hundred days to find and entrap a powerful, malevolent spirit, or both of their souls are forfeit. But when they’re both temporarily restored to living bodies to aid in their search, being alive brings with it a host of new feelings, which neither of them know how to cope with, especially as their deadline looms closer and their quarry proves increasingly dangerous.

Unbreakable by Asexual_Enjolras

Edwin feels as though he owes Charles an apology because he cannot offer support to his best friend in the same way that Crystal can. And Charles tells him exactly where to stick that apology the moment he does.

Or, Edwin feels like he is broken and Charles does not agree.

after the insects have laid their claim by lolotr

“Where are you buried, do you’ve any idea?”

“My body was never found,” he replies softly. “There is a memorial marker next to my parents’ graves, but my remains are not there.”

The idea is so horrifying that it stuns Charles into silence for a couple seconds. “I didn’t know that. Why didn’t I know that?”

Edwin’s shoulders tense. “The whole thing is bloody tragic enough as it is.”

Grabbing his wrist, Charles begins marching them back in the direction of the pond they used to get here. Edwin doesn’t resist, but he does argue, because of course he does. “Charles, where are we going?”

“St. Hilarion’s. We’ve got a new case, don’t we?”

Hold This by RoseGanymede95

“Alright, listen,” Charles said, after trying not to think at all for at least five minutes. “Hear me out.”

“Any ideas?” Edwin asked, not looking up from his page.

“It’s just. What would actually happen if you cut my hand off?”

Edwin jerked his head up so fast, Charles wondered that he didn’t brain himself against the stone wall. He looked more offended than he had when he found out about the live snake in Charles’ bag.

“What the hell kind of a question is that?” He hissed.

“I’m not saying we should do it!” Charles backpedaled. “I’m just curious! These cuffs make us proper solid, don’t they? We could probably lop it off and get me out.”

“No,” said Edwin emphatically. “We are not discussing this. I don’t want you getting any ideas and chewing your own arm off like a trapped weasel.”

“Not my whole arm, just my hand.”

the start of something beautiful (the spoiler-free remix) by KiaraSayre

Four cases from the Dead Boy Detectives casebook, featuring amnesia, corporeality, a time loop, and a chill hang sesh.

If I'm Batman, You're Robin by ahyperactivehero

Charles misses a lot of things from life. One of those is the movies. Edwin volunteers to go with him.

XXX

“Batman Returns?” Edwin asked, reading the title. “What sort of creature is a Batman?”

Charles couldn’t help the bark of a laugh he let out. “No, he’s not a creature, mate. He’s a superhero.” At the totally blank look on Edwin’s face he tried again. “He’s like a detective. But he fights crime with his fists, too.”

“Ah,” Edwin said with a knowing look. “One of your heroes, I see.”

offer me that deathless death by websters_lieb

It takes the better part of two days for Charles’s body to even be found, and in the end, Edwin is forced to turn on all the lights in the gymnasium attic where Charles had died in order to get a janitor to come upstairs. No one had even been looking for him, yet. - or Edwin and Charles attend a funeral, look for a gravestone, and decide to become detectives.

Edwin's Payne tolerance by RabidWatermelon

Charles knew Edwin had a high pain tolerance. How could he not, having endured the tortures of hell? He just didn’t expect it to be so… useful.

AKA I want to write drabbles about Edwin's pain tolerance because I think it's something that would come up over thirty years together and be mildly concerning to someone who went through abuse in life. No fixed plot or posting schedule. Will update tags as chapter come out w new content.

The Case of Edwin's Missing Notebook by thewalkingstone

Edwin forgot his notebook at the office.

Not a problem. He prided himself on having an excellent memory. He certainly liked to jot down notes as he worked, but it wasn’t like he couldn’t work without it. He would just have to remember things until they returned to the office.

It was fine. He was a professional, and professionals did not delay an investigation because they forgot their notebook. OR Just months after escaping Hell, Edwin accidentally forgets his notebook on a case. He does not handle it well. Luckily, his new best mate is there to help him out.

The Scenic Route by DontOffendTheBees

"Cheer up, Edwin," said Charles, brightly. "Might never happen."

Edwin gave Charles a look so haughty it had its own title. "It very much has happened, Charles." He sniffed and straightened out his newspaper with attitude, the rustle of it loud and sharp as a whip crack. "I don't see why we couldn't have simply hopped through the mirror and met Crystal there."

"At this point, Edwin, I'm in total fucking agreement," said Crystal, not opening her eyes. She was burrowed under her coat like a blanket, doing her best to make the uncomfortable upright seat look like a cosy bed. Fortunately this train car was basically empty, so she had space to stretch across two seats – and no one close by to comment on the floating newspaper across the table and the fact she was having a barney with it. "You're like, the worst person to travel with."   In which the agency takes the scenic route to their next case; and Edwin finally receives some answers he's been waiting for.

what some circumstance stole by Chrome

For a magic-user intent on siphoning pain for power, both Hob Gadling and Edwin Payne represent unique opportunities. United in dire circumstances, a man incapable of dying and a boy long dead forge an unusual friendship--and try to survive the experience. --- “When you died,” Hob said. “How old were you?” “Sixteen.” “That,” Hob said, “Is awful.” Edwin shrugged. “Life is, I’m afraid,” he said. “Can be wonderful, too,” Hob said. “I promise.”

[choccorin]

light rain | ft. sakura

tags. fluff , sakura haruka x gn! reader, maybe ooc 'kura?

at the early stages of your relationship, sakura never knew that you get sick very easily and he found this out when you were going on a light stroll.

sakura was on break from patrolling when he saw you shopping for some things at a store, since he was on break, he offered to walk you home and you happily accepted.

while he was walking you from, it started to rain a little bit. you knew that you'd get sick even at the tiniest bit of rain, so you told him to hurry up.

once you arrive to your apartment, you were both a bit wet from the rain. so before he left, you offer him your umbrella. he declined at first saying he doesn't need it but you insisted, you explained that you didn't want your boyfriend to be sick. he turns red at the nickname, he accepts your umbrella with a blushing face.

it was now the next day, sakura thought it was weird that you didn't go to school today, you didn't even tell him why. he got a little sad that you didn't tell him but he's never admit that. he's getting worried so he decided to call you.

his phone rings and you immediately pick up.

“hey, you okay?” he says on the phone, he was expecting you to respond but got confused when he heard coughing and sniffling instead,

“are you sick?!” he yells with a worried tone, surprising his friends beside him.

you sniffle, “yeah .. the light rain caught to me yesterday ...” you chuckle, cringing at the sound of your hoarse voice.

“okay, i'll be right there.” sakura replied, suddenly ending the call.

“huh- what?” you were left shocked, looking at your phone. did you hear him correctly? he's coming over to your place?!

sakura rushed out pothos café, explaining to his friends — just as shocked as you were — that he had something to do before running out.

in just 5 minutes, your door bell rang. you hurriedly open the door to find sakura in front of your door, panting while holding a small bag.

“you actually cough came .. ” you were also out of breath, you sheepishly smile at him.

“wha- what are you doing out of bed, dumbass!?” he pulls in you to your apartment, closing the door behind him. his grip on your wrist is firm — but gentle.

he sits you on your bed, “stay here. i-i'll take care of you, okay?” his hands on your shoulders were trembly and he looks nervous, this is his first time taking care of someone and being inside your apartment, of course he was nervous.

he walks out your room and you here some clattering in your kitchen, you wanted to get up but you don't want to disobey your already stressed boyfriend.

you didn't want him to see you all vulnerable like this but you were glad that he came just to take care of you, seeing him all worried about you made your heart melt and also made you feel a bit better.

sakura comes back with a bowl of soup, water and some medicines. he tells you to eat, explaining that kotoha gave it to him before he ran out of the café.

“give kotoha my thanks then. ” your voice sounds weak and softer than usual.

sakura doesn't like seeing you being weak like this, it makes him want to protect you like your some kind of hurt cat.

sakura meant it when he said he'll take care of you since he went home at 6 am, never leaving your side. it was the next day and still early but he had classes and patrolling so you offered him to go now, after a lot of reassuring him that you're better now, he leaves.

sakura never carries any umbrellas with him, his body is used to getting drenched in rain anyways. but this changed when he saw how sick you were that day, so now, he always carries an umbrella so that in case you forget yours — which you often do — and it looks like it's going to rain, he'll give it to you.

he might not say that he loves you by his words, but his actions say otherwise.

n. this is self indulgent. i get sick very easily so i thought about sakura being worried about his sickly lover <3

t. @kyoghurts hi :3

[thebottomfromhell]

wait: you the moment Muzan was asking that person if they looked sickly? before he killed them I mean what if, that happened again with someone else(reader, perhaps?) but they end up being blind (and he didn't know until reader subtly points it out)? like he asks and reader says 'I'm not sure what you're asking, but you sound pretty healthy.' all genuine smiles and all

I would change the scene a bit for it to make sense, but Muzan encountering blind reader is a lovely idea.

So, also I did this one before others I still owe cuz I'm literally sick, and I always become lazy when sick, and it was the one I needed to think the least. I should feel better by Monday, but I wanted to keep the promise of 2 post per week.

Muzan encounters GN Blind Reader in the scene of the alley

Warnings: Mentioned non-character human death, Implied life-threat to reader and Open ending.

You were born blind. Your mother more often than not said you cried a lot, both as a baby and as a toddler, scared, because you couldn't see anything. The second you didn't have someone touching you you feared you got lost or abandoned, so you cried. You stopped crying when you started to grow up, thankfully your parents were quite wealthy, so you never had problems with being sustained, even if with your current condition living a normal life, like getting a job and starting a family, is harder than normal.

You never let that bother you, though. Also, your other senses do help you around a lot. You can hear, smell and touch your way through most places, so as long as you have your loyal can, you are more than fine. This night, you can sense due the lack of sun rays in your skin, is a busy one. You don't even know what took you so long, since you were only buying some sweets in a shop you go a lot. Since the woman that makes the sweets knows about your condition, sometimes she sneaks some more samples, thinking you don't realize the rations are bigger than normal. Still, it's an endearing gesture.

But the crowd tonight is making it harder to go home, it's too loud and full tonight, so using the temperature of the walls you guide yourself to an alley, there the stones are colder since they didn't get the sun's heat during the day. Then... there is a scent of blood. You know how it smells, since you were little you were able to recognize your mother's periods to the smell in the kitchen when the cooks are cutting the meat. But in those times the smell was diluted, but now it's strong, pungent. Is someone bleeding out? Should you call for help?

No, if it's so bad, it's probably a murder in the alley, if you draw the attention to yourself you might be the next victim, so you make the best to calm yourself. You are blind, so as long as you pretend to be oblivious to what is going on, you might have a chance to flee. You have done this before, not with MURDER, but you have had your fair share of stories of finding people having sex in alleys, and pretending to not know.

"What are you doing standing there like a freak? Can't you see what is going on?" Says a voice, it's rather sweet and soft, clearly manly, you would dare to bet it's a healthy man from his twenties to his mid thirties. In any other situation, you might have even been smitten by the voice. But now.... "No sir, as you might have realized... I can't see. Did I interrupt on something?" You ask, trying your best to keep your nerves under control. You hear steps, shoes with platforms from the west? Is the murder someone wealthy? They are comming towards you. And you know it's not the victim. The victim would beg, run, shove you to scape... not walk calmly towards you.

You move your staff on the ground, making little hits from side to side, hoping it will make this person keep it's lenght as distance. He stops when you hear the edge hit his leg. You stop the movement. "Scaping the crowd, huh? Seems we are not so different from one another. I'm sorry for my tone earlier, I needed some time alone, the city can be upseting at times." Before he sounded as if he was containing his anger, but now... it's gentle, even nice. You can feel hands, not so big or thick, but very strong, in your shoulders, as he guides you to turn around back to the streets. "This alley is infested by pests, let me help you in the way out. Let's go sit somewehre else." You let him, because you are afraid of what he will do if you don't.

You do relax in the crowd for once, though, since is improbable he will do anything to you in front of other but... no one is reacting. Shouldn't he be covered in blood? Then again, he doesn't feel wet, even id the faint smell is still there. Also, he moves you gently, making sure you don't trip or bump into anyone or anything, constantly telling your the name of the streets you are going and describing them for you to know where you are, more or less. He is precise, you know exactly how to go home from here. Part of you wonders if you should tell the authorities, but... would they believe you?

"Here. Here we should be able to rest." You both sit on a bench, there is something off about this man, but you don't know what. "So, what is your name? You don't have to tell me if you don't want to." You nerviously grip tight the bag where you have your sweets, not knowing how to react. "Y/N...." you answer, if only to be polite. "Y/N. It's a pleasure to meet you. Do you live nearby? Have anyone who is supposed to pick you up?" You don't give the exact location, but you asnwer "I live near by. With your descriptions I should be able to get home from here by my own."

"Is it really? Then, I have other matters to answer to, so I will stop keeping you. We might see each other again." He says and... gone... you use you staff after some seconds of silence to check and he is really gone. Or farther than the staff's full lenght's reach. How? You didn't hear any steps or sense any movement. He is just gone. What? How?

You stay in the bench for a while, could it be that you have gone mad? Is this a dream? Was it part from your imagination? Was the man a ghost? You stay a while trapped in your thoughts before going home. Some days pass, weeks, more than a month, and you get to almost forget about the experience. It probably wasn't what you thought, and you will never se that man again, so why worry.

Then, one night your father tells you to go to the main room to meet his new business partner adopted son's. He is a lot younger than you, around half your age, but it seems it will be your job to entertain the child while your parents make business. The kid is very quiet while everyone else is here, it makes you wonder if he is even there. Then, you hear it again. "I told you we would meet again, Y/N." You freeze, it isn't coming from the child, is it? "How would you react if I told you I can give you sight?" You are blind under the situation, no pun intended... Just who the hell is this guy?

"My name is Kibutsuji Muzan, never repeat it."

[jellitchi]

varigo lovely night animatic

i made this in a sickly haze.... i uploaded her to youtube as well feel free to check it out. under the cut is a Huge Ramble abt sum context / what happens In My Mind... also their Fancy ballroom fits n whatever

yk how theres a ball/fancy party or smth? yeah i needed stupid designs so i cranked these out might return and color them but i basically based varian n hugos design off of these just dressed down...

Anyways.

uhm i might write a Whole fic abt this with Oomf but uhm.

this takes place during the events of vat7k about a year after varian initially left, he returns to corona w his friends to find the library and rapunzel and eugene throw him a surprise birthday party. and in true disney character fashion, something horrible happens on his birthday. the gang gets caught witnessing / overhearing plans to assassinate the princess tonight. or maybe its gonna b a murder mystery party gone awry- havent decided. the group splits into two groups, the detectives and the protectors. yong and nuru are the detectives, theyre looking for evidence they can use to prove this has been planned for a long time. hugo n varian r tasked w making sure rapz n eugene done die sum horrible death as they hang out at the party. did i mention the party is The royal ball. so everyone is in stuffy/fancypants fits.

the whole running gag was gonna b rapunzel and eugene having like fifty near death experiences n its always like, Unknowingly. and hugo and varian r stressed out of their mind.

the reason varian n hugo r on Protector duty is coz theyre like Uhm. we're better at Improvising stuff. We can curve this and try n get the Killer to mess up and leave a trail for nuru n yong to go after.

anyways this animatic takes place a bit after like fifty attempts (cartoon ass flower pot almost crashes on their head, they watch someone spike their drinks and hugo runs over and drinks them both followed by an antidote varian just made, they walk through an archway and just barely miss the guillotine positioned above their head okay you get it just Silly cartoonish methods of assassination)

A Lovely Night takes place after Most of that so theyre very tired, the two get locked onto a balcony and r forced to kinda js Watch rapz n eugene hang out. varian takes a seat n is trying to sleuth out whos tryna kill his sister, he has an imaginary cork board w strings. hugo is kinda like "mann theyre kinda cute tgt. see two ppl locked on a balcony alone under the night sky would consider this romantic, goggles." n then Lovely Night!

uhm and the afterwards i think theres a figure approaching eugene and rapunzel so the two literally make a makeshift rope and throw themselves down the balcony to save them but boom they played into the assassinators plan! they were tired of varian and hugo getting in the way so they were js gonna kill em too. n then this is when rapunzel n eugene step in, n save them yeah and then they tell them everything and all is well and good and the assassins r behind bars...! Segment end....

[where-does-the-heart-lie]

One piece modern au, Mama Rouge :)

Happy Mother’s Day :)

Here’s some mama Rouge for the occasion!

Additional info about her 👇(there's a lot.)

Rouge is a bit sickly. Throughout Ace’s formative years, she was in a hospital, sick. Its honestly a miracle she got through child birth alive, but she’s a very very strong woman.

Garp was there when Ace was born because I like to imagine that Garp was Gol D. Roger’s Parole Officer, and so of course he became a family friend. But since he was there for Ace's birth, he was also there when Rouge held her newborn and cried because she knew she couldn't take care of him in her condition.

And look, I don't know how child handling works, but I think it would be really funny if Garp was like "you're okay, girlie, I got the perfect idea." And then he held out a sheet of paper with all the people on his parole list and said like "pick one, this could be part of their community service sentence."

And Rouge was like "might as well, I guess, I don't want to put him in an adoption center or foster home so I guess I'm doing this". Then she picked out Dadan because 'dad' is already in her name, and she's not really given anymore qualifications other than that, so Dadan it is.

Plot twist though because all these convicts just all live with each other so it really wouldn't have mattered, it just meant that now Dadan would be the main guardian of Ace.

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

Because she was in the hospital for so long when ace was growing up, she’s a bit of a mystery to him. Sometimes (like 3 times a year) she would come to visit him at The House Of Dadan and bring homemade large stuffed animals for him made with Ace's old clothes she's patched together. Ace loves them and they're on a high up shelf in his room, practically untouched in fears of potentially breaking them.

Whenever Ace has a day with Rouge, it's usually a bit awkward. Like Ace doesn't know how to have a mother and Rouge doesn't know how to have a son, but she is trying her best to have fun with him whenever she gets the chance to.

I kinda envision these vibes. Not exactly but adjacent.

Very like "what do you wanna do, sweetie :)"

Ace never gets to visit her at the hospital because Rouge doesn't want him to see her in that kind of setting. He tried to once when he became an adult but he was turned away at the door. He may or may not have tried to then find her through the outside of the building through windows and he may or may not have been kicked off the premises by security.

---------

The first day on the job after Ace completes his tattoo artist apprenticeship, he gets a customer who called the day before requesting him specifically, which is a little weird since he had just started that day, normal patrons wouldn't know him.

When it's time for the appointment, he goes to the floor from the back of the shop, and the person sitting in his appointment seat,

Is.. is his mom.

Shes talking to his coworkers and laughing with them! Ahh no nononono. His mom is not supposed to see this part of his life. What is she doing here????

He rushes over to her and asks her what she's doing here for??

"I'm getting a tattoo from my son :) can I get this flower please? :)"

So he starts the tattoo process and Rouge is very cooperative and receptive to when he needs her to move or anything like that.

He's.. he's never actually been this close to her for so long...

He glances up one and he sees her smiling so softly at him.

Ace looks away quickly, hoping she doesn't see him blushing.

For all wondering, the tattoo that she has is very much on her ass and it is very much Roger's name.

That's all I got. I got a couple of people asking about Ace's family situation, so here ya go :)

Oh additionally, Roger died before Ace's birth from Cancer

Thanks for reading if you got this far :)

[bonny-kookoo]

OT7

The Twilight State | Freezing

What will your place be?

Tags/Warnings: Alien!Bangtan, OT7 x Reader, cold climate, a lot of physical affection/contact, angst, romance, fluff, more warnings TBA

Length: 4.4k words

There is no taglist for this fic.

-> Masterlist

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

When Jungkook was nothing more than a child barely able to walk, he had already been named Unjha- a word of the old language meaning ‘Cobweb Child’.

His mother passed when he was born, his father long gone as well, leaving him with nothing but the group she used to be a part of. And due to the fact that he was never nursed, he became sickly- always causing trouble with his health, soon just named a burden to any group to ever take him with them.

He was nine when they left him one night.

But he had survived long enough to be picked up by another group- who at least brought him to the nearest town to stay at and recover some of his strength. When the people there left, he left with them as well- his journey never consistent, always with someone else until he became fourteen- and met a young man by the name of Seokjin, who had a group of his own that he was travelling with.

That’s when he found something called home.

He thrived a few years after realizing that this group was now his family- becoming the exact opposite of who he was as a child. Now strong and healthy, he’s now there wherever help is needed, and takes over any task that needs taken care of. And he’s also known as one of the kindest person around- most likely due to his past.

“There’s a fire there.” Jimin notices, pointing towards a small, orange light in the distance. “They should start moving soon.” He worries, getting Jungkook’s attention as he leans over Taehyung’s shoulder, who’s holding the reigns of the Sarril they’ve been travelling forever with. “Maybe we should check of everything’s okay?”

“Yeah, let’s see if they might need something.” Namjoon mentions from the back of the carriage, closing his book. “Remember how the last group spoke about Vrax attacking again. They might be in trouble.” He mumbles, as Taehyung steers the large animal to pull their carriage towards the little fire.

But the closer they get, the odder the scene becomes.

There’s no sign of a group at all- though Ros becomes more and more hesitant to walk any closer to the spot, most likely due to the clear signs of a fight now visible in the snow, though no blood is to be seen. “It must’ve been an attack. She’s becoming uneasy.” Taehyung offers, noticing the behavior of the Sarril now standing still, uncomfortably lowering her head as she instead scratches on the snowy grounds until her claws hit the ice.

“It’s fine like this.” Jungkook says, jumping down. “We’ll be right back.” He says after running a hand over the neck of the beast, before he and Hoseok walk towards the fire to investigate.

Jungkook almost trips over your body.

“Oh..!” He gasps out, caught off guard as Hoseok walks closer as well. “Hey.. Where's your group?” He wonders towards you, a bit quiet and almost fearful as he squats lower to move your face, and check if you’re alive at all.

You are.

“She most likely doesn’t understand.” Hoseok observes. “Look at her neck.” He points out, the thick leather collar around your neck also having the metal plate with your ID on it- the group plate that should be hanging from the front gone, only a few silver rings remaining where the tag would’ve been.

Ripped off. You’ve been thrown out.

Jungkook offers help to at least somewhat turn you over and look for any injuries. “She’s human, Kook.” Hoseok reminds him. “She’s probably dying from the cold. I’ll go ask Namjoon what we’ll do.” he offers, before leaving to get back to the group and figure out the situation.

Jungkook doesn’t know what to do.

He’s never encountered a human so closely before, has no idea what he can do to help other than run back to the carriage to get some spare blankets and string. You’re cold- so maybe warming you up could save you? He could wrap you up for now and carry you back, have you warm up inside while they figure out what to do.

Yeah, that’s a good plan. Anything but leave you here.

“Her group-tag has been removed. There’s nothing on her but her clothes and her ID on her collar. They didn’t even leave her any food or water.” Hoseok sighs, explaining the situation to the rest of the group.

"She was used as bait, in that case." Yoongi dryly explains. "Gives an explanation as to how she survived an attack. Vrax don't eat humans- but other groups use them as distraction to avert attention anyways in case they encounter them along the way." He says.

"That's horrible.." jimin whines, watching how further away at the pitiful fire, Jungkook tries to help move you. "Well, at least she got away.."

"She most likely won't survive." Namjoon hums darkly, having seen you after all. "We don't know how long she's been out here, but her state is more than worrisome." He shakes his head.

"We should at least bring her to another town-" Taehyung wonders.

"For what? So that we'll be excluded from trading because we brought another mouth to feed instead of anything valuable?" Yoongi snaps. "We can't afford that. The long night is approaching, we shouldn't be stopping in the first place.." he argues.

"I doubt he'll give her up like that." Hoseok sighs. "He seems very attached already.."

"Then he'll have to detach himself quickly." Namjoon agrees with his other friend. "We can't afford to care for her." He shakes his head.

Jungkook, meanwhile, is busy fastening some rope around the blankets he'd rolled you up in, in no way thinking about just leaving you here all by yourself. He knows what it's like to be left alone and behind just because you're considered nothing but weight- he won't be letting you feel that. You deserve a place and group just as much as he did, back then.

Your eyes are barely open as you look at him, now all bundled up in multiple blankets. "You.. probably won't understand what I'm saying, but I'll bring you to the carriage now." He tells you. You want to answer, want to tell him that you do, somewhat, understand him- but you're just too tired. You can't really even think very well- as if your thoughts are about to freeze, everything slow as he turns around and moves you onto his back to be carried towards the large carriage.

"Jungkook- do not get your hopes up with her." Yoongi tries, but Jungkook shakes his head as he lays you down where he usually sleeps.

"I'm not. I'm aware of what might happen." He says, shutting the entrance. "But she deserves to have a chance." He worries. "And even if she's too far gone, no one should die alone." Jungkook shakes his head, sitting close to you, Jimin placing another blanket over you.

"…Let's go then, for now, so we don't fall behind any further." Namjoon sighs. "We'll need all the time we can gain to bury her appropriately later." He simply informs Yoongi, who moves to sit up front with Taehyung, to control the reigns and move the carriage again.

And Jungkook watches you with worry, hoping that you won't need a burial.

Hoping that you'll stay.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

“Is that okay?” Jungkook worries, watching you sleep amongst all the blankets and pelts, rope undone by now since you don’t need to be carried anywhere anytime soon with the way they need to travel for now. Time isn’t on their side- in order to escape the long Dark a bit longer, they need to catch up a bit more distance. “She’s not eaten anything yet..”

“Humans don’t typically eat or drink when they’re severely sick.” Namjoon explains. “their metabolism slows down, as well as most bodily functions. It’s like.. they go into an emergency state, only letting the most crucial processes continue.” He mumbles while he makes sure the concoction he’s making is clear in the bottle. “She most likely won’t like the taste of this, but she’ll need to hydrate soon. But for now let her rest.” He tells the youngest of the group, who nods, while Namjoon moves to the side again to read.

He’s surprised you’ve not passed yet. If anything, you’re regaining a bit of color- your shaking having spooked most of the group pretty badly, thinking you maybe got possessed or infected with some disease- but Namjoon and Yoongi explained that it’s a normal reaction of the body to try and heat up quicker.

Now, you’re still. Only occasionally moving a little. And when your eyes open, it’s usually not for very long before you fall asleep again- so Jungkook has to wait for a chance to get some of that drink into you. It looks and smells like what he himself drinks whenever he’s not feeling well- meant to help the body in gaining enough energy to work properly.

The moment you open your eyes again for a second, he takes his chance, carefully helping you somewhat sit with all the blankets around you. “I know you’re tired but- ah, you don’t even know what I’m saying anyways..” He chuckles a bit faintly, before offering the glass bottle with the lukewarm drink Namjoon made. You accept it, though need a bit of help from his hand supporting yours as they hold the bottle to drink from it.

When Jimin enters the carriage, he smiles.

“Looks like someone’s up again.” He says, sitting down in his sleeping corner. “Namjoon’s apparently wrong. She looks a lot better already.” Jimin mentions, watching you from his spot.

“She’s still very tired, but I think she’s getting back.” Jungkook agrees. “What.. What do you think they’ll decide?” He wonders towards his friend, as you set down the bottle for now, stretching your legs for a second before you continue to drink some more. You don’t understand all of what’s said- but enough to somewhat connect the meaning of the sentences spoken.

“I’m not sure. We don’t have enough time to divert to another town- considering how far behind we already are.” He explains, before he moves to open a wooden chest he takes some clothes out of. “Yoongi told me she can wear some of his clothes for now, so she doesn’t have to stay under the blankets all the time.” Jimin says, putting them on your lap with a smile.

“So we won’t leave her again?” Jungkook wonders, when a low voice speaks up, entering the carriage as well.

“No.” Yoongi responds, boldly sitting next to you to move your face a bit to check up on you. “But she’s your responsibility.” He tells Jungkook, after leaving you alone again, making you look after him for a moment, before everyone else enters as well, ready to go to sleep most likely.

You’ve woken up already, occasionally, so you know how they all manage to sleep in here. They all kind of follow a behavior similar to penguins- sleeping closely together to share body heat. You’re always somewhat moved into the middle, currently the most vulnerable member of the group.

It shows that this group actually cares, even if they act like they don’t. Or.. Some do.

Jungkook doesn’t actually seem to mind at all that you’re now his ‘responsibility’, as he moves the blankets to help you slip into a thick sweater. “There. You look a lot more awake!” He smiles, and you nod, surprising him.

“Thank.” You say, not very fluent in his language- but he understands.

“So you do understand!” He says, and you shake your head, making a pinching motion with your fingers.

“Only bit.” You explain. “Listen- well. Speak- no.” You tell him, and Jimin chimes up at that, coming closer together with Hoseok, who’s interest got sparked as well. You know their names by now from listening in on conversations you couldn’t drown out.

“That’s amazing.” Hoseok nods. “That makes things a lot easier for us.”

“Did your past group not teach you proper language skills?” Namjoon questions, and you can hardly really make out what he means- so you shake your head after a while.

“She was a slave, not a member.” Taehyung shrugs as he takes out his blanket to get his own spot ready to sleep. “It’s not surprising.”

You tap at your collar at the mention of that, but Yoongi shakes his head. “Don’t worry about that, for now.” He simply says with very simple words so you can understand a bit better, probably aware of the fact that you want to know what your position in this group will be. “Just.. Heal. I guess.” He mumbles, before he gets his own spot ready, Jungkook smiling kindly before he helps you crawl into the middle with all your blankets, basically carrying you halfway instead when he notices your legs being still a bit shaky.

You’re not really used to sleeping in the middle of a group- but you’re starting to really enjoy it.

Especially when, despite everyone’s hesitance, Jungkook and Taehyung end up basically hugging you- even Yoongis legs touching yours beneath all the blankets.

Maybe this could become your final stay.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

You’re not sure for how long you’ve slept- but it can’t have been long, considering that everyone else is still fast asleep, huddled together.

You’ve never really witnessed this whole scene- everyone still resting, cuddled together and only sometimes moving a little while they dream. It’s a serene moment, a sight you almost feel like you shouldn’t be able to see-

But there’s something off.

You sit up, slowly to not wake anyone, listening to your surroundings. The wind has picked up quite a bit, pushing against the wooden carriage every now and then, and you wonder if the group’s Sarril is holding up against the change in weather. You know they’re very resilient and can withstand much more than just some bad weather, but still, you worry. Maybe you should check?

You’re not sure why you feel such urgency.

You pick up someone’s sweater, thick fabric able to keep you warm enough for a short bit, as you pull the hood of it over your head, tying the strings to keep it from being blown off right away. And you’re surprisingly able to somehow sneak out of the cuddled up group as well without really waking anyone- they’ll most likely only notice once your spot becomes colder.

So you have to hurry to not alarm anyone.

Quickly opening the back door and tarp, you jump down and almost tumble to your knees- having underestimated the height of it all by quite a bit. Their kind is way taller than humans after all, so it shouldn’t be surprising- but you’re lucky down the line, not having hurt yourself in your little fall.

You walk towards the front where the Sarril is curled up but curiously lifting her head to look at you coming closer, in no distress. Snow is piling up against her big body, but her wooly sheep-like coat shields her from the freezing temperatures. You reach out to pet her-

When you notice it.

She must’ve accidentally pulled the reigns down and gotten her back pair of legs tangled- unable to move without shaking the entire carriage. It wasn’t the wind that was moving the thing- it was her, in an effort to get free. “Let’s see..” you mumble to yourself, before you carefully assess the situation, slowly untainted the leather reigns to not startle her.

A Kick from those thick, clawed hooves could be deadly after all, even if it’s not her intention.

“What are you doing?” a menacing voice asks you, one you’ve come to connect with Yoongi- bit you’re too close to freeing her to answer him right away, as you hear him get closer. He looks over your shoulder to observe your hands gently pulling the reigns away now, his own on your shoulder to pull you away if you were doing something bad-

But suddenly the Sarril is stretching her legs almost in satisfaction, flute-like sound emitting from her throat before she nods her head, happily turning towards you as if to offer her thanks. It’s clumsy, the fact that she doesn’t know that she’s much bigger and stronger than you almost ending in pushing you over, but you instead accept the gesture, while Yoongi watches.

“How did you know?” yoongi demands to know, watching you pet her, your hands already red from the cold.

“Uh..” you point at the carriage. “shake. Weird.” You mention, pointing to your stomach. “weird.. feel. Emotion.” You try and explain, searching for the right word. “Instinct?” You say, and he watches you, before he nods, understanding.

“hm. Thanks.” He mumbles, before he helps you up and pats off the snow from your clothes. “now come back. You caused worry.” He huffs, helping you back into the carriage where both Jungkook and a sleepy Jimin exhale in relief almost at seeing you again.

“where was she?” hoseok asks, yawning while Namjoon simply moves the blankets to welcome you back beneath, without any words.

“outside. Ros had somehow gotten her legs tangled in the reigns.” Yoongi explains while Jungkook helps you back next to him where he eagerly moves the blankets back over you to warm you up again. “She said she.. felt weird? That’s how she noticed.”

“Humans call it a gut feeling.” Namjoon yawns. “though.. it doesn’t have anything to do with their intestines..” he mumbles, laying back down while Taehyung looks at you.

“thank you.” He offers, and you nod. “I must’ve not put the reigns up properly..” he tells himself mostly, before he too lays back down to resume his rest.

And as you now find yourself back in the warmth of the group, knowing that the loyal animal outside is well too, you can finally find some sleep as well.

Dreaming of nothing but snow and winds.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

You’re sitting next to Taehyung and Jungkook up front, dressed in clothes not your size, but somewhat adjusted with strings Jimin had helped tie in some places. Jungkook checks in with you often to make sure that you’re not too cold- but you don’t want to just be uselessly existing around.

The next small outpost is up ahead. They all seem oddly eager to get there- as if something’s or someone is waiting for them there.

Time is tough to calculate. You’re not sure why you can’t just exist like the rest of them with no feel for it- time doesn’t really matter to them as much as it does to you. But that’s because they all grew up without focusing on it too much- you didn’t. “we need to buy her some proper attire.” Yoongi mumbles walking next to the Sarril moving the carriage.

Jungkook smiles a bit impishly. He’s aware that the grumpy looking friend must’ve changed his mind about you.

“An outpost would be a bad place to leave her- you’re right.” Namjoon agrees from the other side, reminding him that not all share the same views however. Namjoon still clearly does not have you in mind as a permanent part of the group- and he can somewhat understand it. A bigger group is safer, after all- but it’s also harder to feed.

But that doesn’t mean he agrees with him.

The moment you arrive at the camp, you spot someone familiar- someone the group walks towards as well, before they hug him. “where did you find her?” he wants to know, disbelief clear in his face and voice as he looks at you standing amongst his group.

“She was left by a fireplace.” Yoongi informs his friend. “do you know her, Jin?”

“not personally, but fleetingly.” He offers, before he walks closer to you. “they said you got killed during an attack?” He questions you, but you shake your head.

“She was injured- but very mildly. She was mostly freezing.” Namjoon explains. “But she recovered, much to my surprise.” He adds, watching how his older friend kindly runs a hand over your head, a common gesture for older members of a group to greet the younger ones.

“I’m glad you made it then.” Seokjin tells you, and you smile, with Jungkook right behind you now. “I assume you must be happy to finally not be the youngest anymore? After all I can sense she’s not quite the same age as you.” He jokes, making Jungkook instantly look over to Namjoon.

“She’s not part of the group.” Namjoon states, though his tone is a lot softer than when he’d say that before. “We’re simply.. Trying to find a place for her to stay.”

“Oh, I see.” Seokjin nods. “Well, until we find that place, I will still treat her as part of the group.” He almost teasingly states, before taking your hand in his. “So, I shall find my groupmate something proper to eat.” He smiles charmingly, before he walks off with you towards the several fires and people making and selling food. “He will warm up. Don’t worry.” Jin tells you more quietly now that he’s with you alone, the rest of the group having held back Jungkook to instead help lift some heavy crates of food rations.

“It’s fine.” You reassure, slipping on the icy frozen puddles here and there- though Jin’s hand on your back always steadies you, while also being unable to not laugh at your clumsiness. “Why.. You, here?” You ask, and he nods to himself.

“I was visiting relatives.” He explains. “But I will return to You and the others from today on. Maybe I can help you soften up the tough shell of some of the groupmembers.” He jokes, and you smile, nodding.

You really want to stay with them- so hopefully, Seokjin can help you achieve that.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

“She sure has an appetite.” Yoongi mumbles, as he sits down next to Jungkook who’s just dug into his own second serving of soup, while you still spoon yours into your mouth.

“Thats good, isn’t it?” Jungkook chirps happily. “shows she’s healthy.” He says, looking at you- who nods, before eating more slowly. Jungkook frowns a bit at that, though understands that you might’ve misunderstood what little you could translate for yourself. “you can eat well here! Since Jin’s family stays here, we eat in exchange for less money.” He tries to explain it in easier words, and you nod.

Still, you feel a bit odd about it. What if they don’t take you with them? You don’t want to just.. use their money just to end up not actually offering anything in return. There has to be something you can do for them as well.

“its getting cold.” Yoongis voice is heard, and you look up at that, noticing he means your food- and you nod obediently, returning to your meal. “I feel like she might need a task.” He says, and you look up at that, before you nod eagerly.

“Huh? No, she doesn’t-“ Jungkook wonders, before Yoongi shakes his head.

“She does. Everyone in a group has a task.” He says, and at that, Seokjin joins you at the table.

“How about she keeps the carriage organized and tidy?” He offers, sitting next to you. “She could help put away the blankets after we sleep, or keep track of all the things we carry around. It would certainly take some weight off of my shoulders, and Namjoon wouldn’t have to be scolded for his messy habits every time we forget or misplace something.” He chuckles, Jungkook laughing as well.

“I agree with that idea.” Yoongi nods. “do you?” He asks you, and you think for a second, before you realize what he’s asking. So you nod- of course you can take on that job!

“we shouldn’t give her a task just yet.” Namjoon intervenes, sitting down next to Yoongi while the other’s also join in at the table with their food. “That’s up to her future group, not us.”

Everyone’s silent at that- understanding, but there’s also a slight wave of disappointment going around, especially when looking at Jungkook- who suddenly boldly so, gets up as he notices you’ve finished eating. “come- you must be tired. I’ll show you how to make a proper sleeping place.” He offers, as he helps you off the bench. But surprisingly, Yoongi also gets up- making Namjoon look at him with question.

“Someone’s gotta stand watch over them.” He simply says as a poor excuse, following you and Jungkook back to the carriage.

You’re surprised to see Taehyung following as well, the tall alien not having interacted with you much- but his interest is certainly caught at the sight of the most quiet member of the group visibly growing attached to you. Jungkooks behaviour is understandable after all- his childhood having shaped him into someone who aims to help whomever he can. And he most likely sees a bit of himself in you.

But Yoongi? That’s certainly new.

Yoongi has always been easy to talk to, and he himself is someone who can talk anyone into anything it seems like- but he’s only ever been loyal to his own group, and never interested in anyone in such nature that he’s now clearly portraying. To anyone else, he might not have changed much- but Taehyung notices the difference in how he carefully helps you into the carriage, making sure Jungkook has a good hold on your hands before he lets go of your legs. Only once you’re in does he get in himself- and once they all find themselves in their ‘home’ again, he’s already ‘showing off’; making a proper sleeping spot for you, as an example to follow once you’ve memorized it.

It’s really not necessary, technically. You’re human, yes, but even humans know how to prepare a nest, somewhat.

But Taehyung watches, amused, how the both of them basically bury you beneath blankets before getting underneath them as well, ready to sleep even though they’re not tired. You definitely are- as a creature who usually needs at least eight hours of rest, you’re a lot less active than they are on average. They only need three or four, maybe a nap here and there- but it’ll be fine.

Because with the way you’re basically shielded from the outside world by Yoongi and Jungkook, Taehyung is sure you’re already part of the group.

And soon, Namjoon will realize that too.

[hajimedics]

relationship charts between my fop ocs and their respective groups

A BIT OF RAMBLE HA HA HA!!!!!!!

tsubaki's whole deal at school is that she lied about being an esper and has to rely on kira to back up her frauds despite her reluctance on making wishes. hazel's hot on her tail. she suspects that girl genius might have a magical being on her side. tsubaki suspects the same with hazel and forms this one sided rivalry with her. hazel thought tsubaki was kind of mean and thinks she's flaunting her academics. however as they spend more time together and get caught in supernatural situations, they began supporting one another and telling each other to think about what she wants for her own benefit (tsubaki to hazel) or relax for a bit and not think everything and everyone's out to get her (hazel to tsubaki). also tsubaki hangs out with the hazel gang when she doesn't have cram school for the day

tsubaki and dev did not get long. they both came from harsh home lives (obsessive parents, neglectful dad) but they don’t see eye to eye because they have opposing attitudes and values in life. tsubaki thinks you only deserve good things if you work for it while dev gets everything handed to him on a gold platter. she also thinks dev doesn't deserve his godparent or anything good in life (words that later push them to understand each other better). dev looked genuinely upset, she later apologized, and they became.... frenemies? rivals? they still throw jabs at one another but tsubaki wants to put in effort to make more friends thanks to hazel's encouragement. when they're older they became close friends and catch up on how each other's doing despite not going to the same schools after elementary. it's cool.

NOW ONTO KIRA AND PERI. MY FAVORITE.

kira believes the fairy world is hypocritical. he doesn't have world domination plans (that one goes to irep) but he wants to change fairy world for the better and make the fairies realize the flaws in the godparenting system, and what better way there is than through peri?

peri's both a fairywinkle and a cosma, he's the first fairy to be born in 1000 or so years, he's incredibly powerful and harbors massive potential, yet his powers is kept under control in that glass orb. peri is also new to godparenting while kira has thousands of years of experience. kira's witnessed many things that gave him such views (kids with abusive parents, homeless kids, sickly kids, mentally ill kids, etc), and he also noticed that peri is struggling with his first godkid and is such a stickler to da rules that it strains his relationship with dev. he must've noticed it too, right? how he and dev are at odds due to peri's reluctance to give him the things he wanted, how he and irep aren't really as close as they were when they were children. kira knows peri's naive, not stupid.

kira's not going to manipulate peri or straight up force him to do anything but he does want to become a presence in peri's life so he can open his eyes and change fairy world for the better ("a good godparent wants to see their godkid happy, right?"). he wants to guide peri in the path that he thinks is right. unfortunately they don't see eye to eye often so most of their conversations are at benches outside the school while their godkids are in their classroom