#i made the children gender vague so you can pick

[teecupangel]

hear me out:

clay/subject 16 having a kid he didn’t know about, or perhaps maybe desmond having a second kid he didn’t know about, or even william himself somehow had the rizz to accidentally make a second kid 😭😂

I mean… when the first chapter of Black Flag’s webtoon came out, Noa is shown to have Altaïr, Eizo and Ratonhnhaké:ton as his ancestors which led to the ‘ideas’ that he could be Desmond’s son. Of course, we also thought of the idea that he can be Bill’s son as well if having Altaïr as an ancestor isn’t based on the father’s side but on the mother’s side, since he does have Japanese and Korean and one of Altaïr’s grandchildren or even an older Darim could just as easily had a paramour in Japan while they were chasing after Genghis Khan’s children/grandchildren (the easiest being in Tsushima).

So, in this case, you didn’t specify if you wanted this to be a case of Clay, Desmond or, god forbid, Bill learning they have a child which gives me an excuse to focus this on Elijah XD

For this one, we’re dealing with the canon events in the eyes of Elijah. While the whole… Layla trilogy was happening, Elijah’s been busy laying low and building some sort of super computer that used cannibalized parts from all over.

With the skills and knowledge Aita provides him, Elijah is planning to recreate the Phoenix Project, but not for Juno.

Juno was…

A prototype. Something he did under duress while he was blinded by rage and desire for revenge.

Now, he’s rebuilding it to… well, at first, it was to bring back his mother but he later learned that it was impossible.

His mother was so inconsequential to the Calculations that there wasn’t enough data about her to bring her back even if he uses his own DNA. It still wasn’t enough.

So, he decided to pivot to trying to resurrect Desmond Miles instead.

He would say it was the only logical conclusion. Desmond Miles was the human who was closest to the Isus, not like Sages like him who were haunted by the memories of those who helplessly pathetically clung to life (and yeah, he is absolutely aiming that at Aita).

And Desmond Miles had enough DNA to be recreated with the access of the Calculations…

Because Sample 17 is a complete copy of Desmond Miles’ DNA.

So… after Elijah finished the device (improved from that garbage Juno’s cult modified from Abstergo), his next course of action was to get the original Sample 17.

During his investigations of where it could be, he learned that Abstergo had been checking for more people who had interesting connection to Desmond Miles and any other Animus Subjects.

That’s how he learned that he had a younger sibling (whether this one is a sister or a son is up to you) who was being held in an orphanage under one of Abstergo’s shell companies.

Whether this child is born from a night of passion or was actually created by Abstergo itself using… other means… is up to you.

Elijah has no reason to save this child he has no connection with. For one, he already ignored Noa Kim even when he had pinged in his radar because he knew the Assassins were already dealing with that one. All he had to do was tip the Assassins off and they’d find a way to rescue this child but…

The orphanage may have other clues that will lead him to the original Sample 17.

So he infiltrates the orphanage, found the clue he needed and…

… got back to his base with three children instead of one.

…

Sooooo…

Apparently…

The death of Desmond Miles had been the final straw that destroyed whatever feelings William Miles and his wife had with one another.

Oh, sorry.

Ex-wife.

While he was grieving his son and not doing any of his responsibility to the Brotherhood, William Miles had a…

Elijah felt like he was going to hurl…

… one night stand.

He has no dealings with William Miles.

He only had heard of William Miles.

But that didn’t mean he wanted to learn about William Miles’ sex life.

Regardless, when he got to the orphanage, finished his actual work, and went to get his ‘new’ sibling, he learned that…

1. Said sibling had a friend who must come with them if Elijah wanted to whisk them away.

2. Said sibling had been put in charge of a baby of all things who turned out to be William Miles’ second child.

Which means said child is technically his… aunt? Uncle?

Everything had been hectic since that was divebombed at him that he didn’t have spare time to check for something so inconsequential.

So now…

Elijah had become the guardian of three young children.

… he really needs to get the original Sample 17 so he can push all of these to Desmond Miles instead.

Unorganized Notes:

The main point is that Desmond is revived to find out that he does not only have one child, but two and a younger sibling as well as another child who is definitely Clay’s child (Elijah checked) so yeah… he was resurrected by a bunch of children (well… Elijah’s like… 18 by now)

Clay gets involved because Desmond’s resurrection still has him have a connection with the Gray where Clay is and Clay can connect with Desmond while he has a POE.

This will easily moved into Clay and Desmond trying to be good parents in their own ways and trying to raise three (four if you can Elijah who does not want to be counted) children.

Does Bill learn he has another child? Your call. Or you can just have that child think of Desmond as their father and Desmond just rolls with it since he is the one raising said child.

[stormgardenscurse]

‘do you remember? back when…’

Summary: a childhood friends AU! Well, Lilia’s is more like ‘back in our youth’ rather than childhood, but you get the gist.

Characters: Lilia, Malleus, Riddle, Jamil, Vil

Content warning: the Reader is gender neutral, but it’s mentioned they’ve worn dresses in Malleus’ part.

If you liked this, consider checking out my TWST Isekai Fanbook, now digitally available on my kofi!

Lilia Vanrouge

Back when you were both training to be knights, you mistook Lilia for a girl at first. 

In your defense, it’s simply because of how pretty he is, yet so cutthroat and lithe on his feet that you swear this is what they mean by ‘angels of death’ descending on a battlefield. 

Lilia calls you weird for comparing him to that when he much prefers to think of himself as some type of demon, or harbinger of doom.

“Do I still not look intimidating enough for you?” He’d asked, sharp teeth flashing with the question as the both of you leaned against the railings on the castle rooftop. Lilia angles his head back to gaze at you, and you think to yourself how it exposes the pale skin of his neck, which he’d never show to any opponent in a fight.

Two of your fingers reach to tap on that expanse of skin, causing Lilia to freeze from the contact. He tilts his head, comfortable enough that he hasn’t decided to shove you away yet. 

“It’s just… you seem more mortal to me.” You shrug. “As mortal as a fae can be, anyways. I can reach out and touch you, and I would walk away unharmed.”

“That’s because I allow you to.” Lilia rolls his eyes. He finally steps away, picking up his weapon — heavy and gleaming emerald. From beneath his lashes, he gives you a challenging smile as he flips and catches it in his hand. “Care to spar before we turn in for the night?”

“Maybe you’re a vampire after all.” You pretend to be tired of his late requests, but follow Lilia down to the training grounds regardless. “The kind that human kingdoms are romanticizing in their newest novels. Sparkly under the sunlight.”

“If you’d like to sleep already, I’d be more than happy to croon you a lullaby.”

“You’ll only do so after I’m defeated on the ground, I’m sure.” With a pause, you give Lilia a proposal. “If I win, I’ll sing to you instead. But I’m not carrying you back to your dorm.”

“Oh? It’s a deal, then.”

Ever since, you can’t be sure if Lilia likes to throw your sparring matches just for the chance to hear you sing. You don’t often do so (you’re knights, after all), so he regards it as a secret side of you that only he gets to witness. You only come to this contemplation after feelings spark between you — face flushed as you wonder what to do next when you’ve fallen for someone so impossible.

He’s already been keeping you up at night with his nocturnal tendencies and hangouts… and now this?! 

Malleus Draconia

It helps that as children, you never truly processed who Malleus was until a little later in your friendship. You were told he’s the son of the royal advisor, and so you prattled to him with questions of what the crown prince is like. He’d answer vaguely, sometimes saying that His Royal Highness has bad habits, and you’d nod along, hanging onto his every word.

Malleus soon realizes that you don’t care as much for ‘the prince’ as much as you did for him as your mysterious friend. You were both lonely noble-children, and you enjoyed sharing treats, flowers, and any new thing you could with Malleus. Once, he even tried on the trendiest dresses with you out of curiosity, and you lamented the fact that he could’ve made a beautiful girl.

No one would dare say that to him in any lifetime, other than you. Though to be fair, you didn’t know he was the prince yet. 

“Flowers look wonderful in your hair! Since it’s dark, they stand out.” You continue weaving yellow and blue blooms into Malleus’ locks. “...Hey, what do you think life would be like if we were regular children?”

“Not nobles, you mean?” He hums, helping you decorate your hair once you’re done with his. He casts an easy spell to dye your hair with highlights to match the dress. “I suppose we’d be towns-children frolicking without a care in the world.”

“We’d still be friends, right…?”

Malleus pauses at the anxious edge in your voice. Perhaps you were just as reliant on this comforting friendship as he was. He tells himself to hide his status for a little while longer. “Of course. Our parents would still be acquainted, and we’d still have playdates — only running through the roads rather than castle halls.”

It’s hard to find a real friend amongst noble children. Some cling to their families, others are picky or judgmental, and…

A lot are only friends for as long as the other is useful.

“We should have an outing in the city one day.” You smile, trying to fight away the heavy air. “I’m sure you’d like the marketplace. I’ve only seen it from inside a carriage, but it looks fun.”

Soon, the outing is arranged. However…

“Before we go, there’s something I need to tell you.” Malleus takes your hands in his, squeezing them as if to ground himself in the moment. Time passes quickly for the fae, but his heart is beating out of his chest at what your reaction might be.

…He ends up delaying this reveal until the end of your excursion. But the last thing he expects is for your eyes to well up with tears and for you to latch onto him in a hug.

“I’m… I’m so sorry—! If only I was more reliable, you wouldn’t have to keep this a secret, and…”

As you let out a hiccup and continue apologizing, Malleus’ confusion melts into a soft smile, hugging you back. 

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle’s mother didn’t know about your existence for a while, as you’d always sneak over to his window after she left the house. You claimed you knew how accomplished his family is, so you told Riddle you’d prepare for a better impression in the future! “That way, we can hang out normally or study together!”

Truth be told, the only studying you’re interested in is with practical magic — as another child with an affinity with magic, you’ve been going to the library often to read up on theories, experimenting with what spells you can do.

As worried as Riddle is for your safety (you’ve been doing all this without supervision), he’s also very curious about watching magic unfold from your own hands. You showed him a color changing spell once, surprising him by appearing with a different appearance — it was cute how he panicked, thinking you went ahead and dyed your entire head pink.

“And nothing hurts? No side effects?” He asked.

“Nope! And one day, we can both attend a magic school and do spells like these all the time!”

One day… Despite how he’s temporarily stuck at home still, adhering to his mother’s strict rules, he clings onto the hope that it’ll fruition in him becoming a great mage. Then, when that happens, he can be the one to wow you with magic you haven’t seen before. Just as you have all these months, visiting with the intention of cheering him up or encouraging him. 

On rare days, you manage to sneak Riddle out of the window for a quick visit to the park or library. There, with his heart thumping out of his chest, he’d marvel at the world you’re so familiar with already, and so willing to place into his unsteady palms.

“Can you read that?” You ask, pointing at a passage in a history book. While technically rebelling, you still chose a book on the same topic Riddle was meant to study at home.

“Yes, it’s…” As Riddle translates the scripture, he realizes you’re listening very intently. And all of a sudden, the closeness of your seats in the corner of the library makes him flush, realizing how you’ve always spoken to him kindly. Different from the playful tones you used at the start of your friendship, or currently do with the acquaintances he’s seen you greet along the way.

It’s been a while since he’s felt special, especially as the sentiment expired after years of his mother claiming he had a gift; that because he had the potential to be perfect, it'd come at a price of overwhelming pressure.

So why does your kind of ‘special’ feel like a balm? 

Jamil Viper

Between his busy schedule working for the Al-Asims, it’s all Jamil can do to relax in the solitude of his own room… that is, until you’re temporarily displaced from your own, and have been allocated to bunk with Jamil since he’s ‘very capable’ and close to your age. Another bed is moved in. There’s still space, but Jamil dislikes having his privacy encroached upon.

The two of you never interacted before this, but he’s seen you around the mansion before doing chores and learning from the head servants. You aren’t too chatty, Jamil thinks, until you finally break it to him after the night of a banquet (the both of you too tired to keep up appearances, slumped on your respective beds), that he frowns a lot. And that’s why you haven’t spoken to him much until now.

Jamil blinks once, then twice. “I do?” He’s always been good at controlling his facial expressions—

“Yeah, when you think people aren’t looking.” You raise a finger in the air. “Especially when the meals aren’t to your liking, you tend to look around with judgmental eyes.”

“So you watch me when we’re at work.”

“Only because you never looked like you wanted to talk.” It’s not accusatory, merely an observation from you. With a sigh, Jamil falls on his back against the mattress. “Did you see the performers at the banquet?”

“The dancers were great. I saw them practicing in the morning before the event.” Jamil answers. It’s the first time you’re having a proper conversation, and while he’s not as chatty as Kalim (who he’s normally assigned to watch), you feel at ease. 

“I remember them! The kitchen was handing out meals to the staff, and I was one of the delivery people.”

“Did you help cook too? There wasn’t enough salt in the curry.”

“You—! Then come and help us yourself!”

“Too much work.” Jamil pushes himself up on his elbows just to stick his tongue out at you, before turning to lay on his side. “We should rest. Tomorrow the guests are leaving, so the suites have to be cleaned.”

Even after you move back to your room, you spend time with Jamil, running off to the market after visiting family, and watching street performers and food vendors go about their day. On rare occasions, you knock on his window when you have a bad dream, and Jamil groggily holds up a conversation until you’ve calmed down. The stars are especially twinkly on those nights, as if they’re another witness to the friendship you shared beneath busy days and tall adults.

“Do you think we’d make good adults, Jamil?”

“Not many adults are good at it either. So we’ll be fine.”

“Well… That’s true. Goodnight, Jamil.”

“...Goodnight. Sleep tight.”

Vil Schoenheit 

When you first met Vil as kids, you were intimidated by him not because he acted in evil roles, but because he had the aura of an adult.

“It’s weird… you look my age, but walk and talk like a grown-up.”

“Hm, I guess that’s not too bad of an impression. …What’s your name?”

You were next-door neighbors, and suffice to say your interests lied more in pop-culture as an audience rather than as an artist on-stage. It’s a world away from Vil who’s a child-actor and upcoming model, but when he’s not pursuing such work, he’s still just a boy.

…A boy who you were very surprised to see act his age, when he was with his father or smiled as he told you about the movies they starred in. You’d always listen, realizing that while Vil was always pretty, he’s even more eye-catching when he’s rambling about something he’s passionate about. It almost makes you want to grow up quickly too and pursue your own dreams.

No one would see this side of him outside the comfort of your homes, though. Vil has an image to uphold (at least, you’re quite sure he’s trying to craft a persona for the camera, considering how he asks you what you think an actor’s personality should be like), so you try and cover for him when strangers ask about Vil. Giving just enough praise without revealing too much, since they might be reporters:

“He’s really hard-working and nice to others! Vil even explains his work to me if I ask. You can tell he really loves acting.”

“Oh? You sound like you admire him a lot.”

“Well… lots of people do. Once you meet him, you’ll realize he’s like a diamond!”

Word of your comments gets to Vil, and he seems to be in a good mood, explaining to you that it sounds like something a fan would say. “...One day, I’ll have as many fans as my dad does.”

It becomes routine for Vil to knock on your door whenever he gets a new script. He likes having you watch him rehearse and give him your thoughts, amongst other things like discussing the story and causing the both of you to become invested in the plot. 

You’re sworn to secrecy, of course, since you can’t leak the movie’s details. And after you’re a bit older, Vil instead makes it a game to read random lines to you, then asking you to make up the rest of the story (it’s a good improv session, even if your conversations devolve into ridiculous scenarios.)

You got each other parting gifts after you were accepted into different colleges; Vil’s to you is a ‘poisoned flower’, which is to say, an artificial flower scented to help you sleep. It’s so you can get proper rest instead of scrolling on your phone, Vil claims. And of course, you’re added into his personal Magicam to get life updates — even now, when asked who you were texting with a smile on your face, you keep Vil’s secret and claim it’s just a childhood friend: 

“He’s in Night Raven College.”

“Oh, the same one Vil Schoenheit is in?”

“The very one! Pretty impressive, huh?”

[tossawary]

Regarding "The Hobbit" film trilogy, even if I ended up personally disliking and resenting how much time and focus the elf characters (and others) ended up taking away from the dwarves whom I think deserved more focus as rich internal characters (I know that studio pressures are a factor in that terrible love triangle and so on), I still... vaguely appreciate the effort to create and include named female characters like Tauriel, when the book is sadly lacking in them. I think she's fine, actually. Comparatively, there are many other elements in these adaptations that I think are much, MUCH worse.

But still, if you want to add female characters to this story, the obvious answer to me seems to be to just make half the Company into dwarf women? (With similarly fancy beards and other facial hair! Because I think that's fun.) It's just... so much easier?

Do NOT come at me with that "dwarf women are rare" bullshit. Unreliable narration. Logistically unlikely. Also, if you believe that "men are the warriors and craftsmen, the women stay at home" is how dwarf society strictly functions (boring, honestly, on top of being incredibly sexist), I could argue that the Battle of Azanulbizar and other struggles probably left a significant dent in this dwarf group's male population, leaving behind many widows and mothers without children to pick up the work. The battlefields have come to and TAKEN both Erebor and Moria from the dwarves. I see no good reason why dwarf women would not have equal investment in reclaiming their home and the gold. Many of the Company are not presented to be formally trained warriors, anyway.

Now, ideally, we could do way queerer stuff in terms of both romance and gender here, but we know cowards with veto powers would not let this happen. Still, I feel like basic genderbending would have been a very doable move and is, actually, a very reasonable ask of an adaptation that would have added some depth to the story even if you didn't acknowledge the change at all.

Like, preferably, this would be an adaptational change that would be directly addressed. Maybe all of the Company appear male at first due to traveling that way (and assumptions made by humans and hobbits), then Bilbo might learn that some of the Company are dwarf women when he becomes closer to all of them. We could have a brief scene acknowledging that dwarf women are fighting these battles for their pasts and their futures too. It doesn't have to be a big thing! They can just be there. Existing. Participating.

I even think it would be fun if two of the dwarves were actually an older married couple traveling together, instead of brothers or cousins, because loving married bickering and battle couples are fun. You can have running jokes in the background about how Smaug's invasion ruined their wedding day, and going back and forth with "you never take me anywhere nice" @ each other whenever they're stuck in Goblintown or the Mirkwood dungeons. (I like seeing good marriages & partnerships in fiction and established couples going on fantasy quests together. I just think it's neat.)

But another (sillier) direction is that you could just cast some actresses in beards to play some of the dwarves, then leave the fact that some of these characters are probably dwarf women (traveling as men) as a fun detail for the audience. Bilbo is either too oblivious to notice or much too polite to bring it up at all. It's canonically compliant to the text this way!

Now, obviously some few people would have complained that Tolkien's work was being ruined by "political correctness", but they complained anyway about Tauriel (when there are MANY other bad choices in these movies), and what worthwhile arguments could they have possibly made against genderbending some of the THIRTEEN dwarves? Like, most casual fans I know cannot NAME the entire Company, who get so little character development in the book that the films had to come up with unique designs and backgrounds for most of them anyway. Bro (directed towards someone objecting to the idea of including female dwarves), be real, there's no way that you honestly cared this much about "Nori the Dwarf" before right now.

[petrichor-idyllic]

@lu-thinkingstuff I accidentally deleted the original ask (and the entire fuckin fic I'd nearly finished along with it) so have a screenshot of your ask I managed to keep. Sorry.

I'm writing this as a standalone piece, but it can be read as a prequel to quite a few of my pieces if you please.

INDOCTRINATION

MASTERLIST | MINHO MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: See above. I know the request is fem!reader, but I guess this can be read as gender neutral since I don't think I used any pronous to refer to you, apart from you obviously lmao. Follows no cannon events. I am making this shit up. Can be read as a prequel to "Life before Drowning", any other of my fitting work, or as a standalone. Whatever ya want. References to the simulation sky that's in the books - if you're reading this as a movie fic, then let's pretend this is a failed WICKED experiment.

WARNINGS: Inappropriate language, annoying WICKED shenanigans, traumatised children, Ratman.

You met Minho when you were seven. Maybe eight.

The last few weeks had been a blur of chaos you can barely remember. With the Flare finally taking its victims in your hometown, families flocked to their last resort, donating their children to WICKED.

Most children weren't picked.

Of course, they weren't. Most children aren't immune. The occasional normal child was also plucked from the masses and swept away from the warmth of their families to the cold, white walls of WICKED's laboratories. But that was rare, and they were only ever valued as a control variable in whatever twisted experiments they took part in.

Not that you ever knew that.

The potential horrors didn't matter to most parents; yours included. Mothers and Fathers desperately passing their remaining blood to men in masks in hopes of saving their loved ones. There really wasn't much choice.

You were given even less choice as you were one of the lucky ones to be picked.

A white room became your home for several weeks. They made you forget your parents - those parents who willingly passed you into Ava Paige's custody in hopes you'd have at least a fleeting chance of survival on the infected planet.

They took your name, too. Your personality. The few memories you'd managed to develop so young. All of it; gone.

You were almost in a state of shock when they finally said you could leave your pristine tiled prison cell.

Following your capture through the endless high-tech halls and flawless clean corridors, you reach a large dining hall. Several long tables fill the room, along with the high-pitched chattering voices of children. The kids vary in age - some older, some younger, but that doesn't matter. They're all talking.

"Grab your food and find a seat." The booming, hollow voice of the balding man in a labcoat reaches your ears, and you can't even begin to process what he's saying.

"W-what?" Your voice is barely a whisper as you squeak out a response.

"Join the queue, and then find somewhere to sit. Your lunch break doesn't last long." He gives you no chance to ask anything else as he turns and walks back down the corridor. Leaving you with very little choice but to continue into the room.

Getting the food is the easy bit; a tray full of a passing excuse for food and a small cup of juice. Finding somewhere to sit is the problem. You mindlessly search for an empty seat, though your gaze mainly lingers on the masked individuals lining the room; armed and dangerous.

"Psst. Don't stare. They don't like it when you stare."

Your head snaps towards a voice. An Asian boy, about your age, leans over the table top, hand cupped around his mouth as he whisper-yells at you, like he's pretending to be subtle.

"...What?" You stare back at him as a grin creeps across his face as he sits back down.

"Those freaks? Duh? Don't stare at 'em. They'll snap at you." When you don't respond, the boy starts to sense your unease. "...You gonna sit down or what?" He vaguely gestures to the empty space on the bench across from him. It takes you a second to move, but he seems relieved when you do. "You got a name?"

"Uh, (Y/N)... I think."

"You think?" He scoffs as you struggle to get your leg over the slightly wobbly bench. You think it's wobbly, or maybe you're shaking too much; it's hard to tell.

"Well, yeah - that's not my real name, is it?" Your response leaves the boy unsure how to react. You're... not wrong.

"Huh. I guess. I'm Minho." He says with a grin. "And even if it ain't my real name, they made a good choice. It suits me, right?"

For the first time since you'd arrived, you find yourself smiling. Minho is charming, for a kid. He's already got an air of confidence about him, which is almost reassuring in this situation.

"Yeah," you giggle, "I guess it does suit you."

And that is how you met Minho. Reckless, cocky, funny, brilliant Minho. And by brilliant, I mean he is a brilliantly bad influence.

It's not like you got to see him very often - just over lunch and the rare breaks you both got at the same time. But when you did, it was always fun. You even developed a little group, mainly including Minho's friends - he has enough charisma for both of you.

The first time Minho snuck into your room, you were eleven.

It's the middle of the night, the faint sounds of footsteps from WICKED guards echoing through the small white room you reside in at nights. It's all background noise, now, you barely even notice it as you drift off to sleep.

Until the loud clattering of the vent hitting the floor makes you jump out of your skin, shooting up in bed.

"...shit." Minho murmurs as he peers into your room.

"Minho?" You whisper-yell at the sudden intrusion. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I couldn't sleep." He responds, matching your tone as he attempts to clamber out of the vent and onto the safety on the floor below.

"So, you decided to break into my room?" You climb out of bed, coming to assist your best friend as he slides down your wall.

"Yeah. Figured I'd give you a visit."

You cross your arms, eyebrow cocked as you glare at your friend. "Are you insane? We're gonna get in so much trouble if you get caught." You grumble at him, swallowing your initial shock (and your small smile thanks to his presence.)

"So? What are they gonna do?" Minho dusts himself off. "Make me train more? Poke me with another needle? However shall I cope?" His sarcasm results in another eye roll from you, but you can't help but chuckle as you shove him, playfully - but warning.

"They could lock you in your room for a week." A beat passes. "Again."

"Great." He grins. "Means I get some peace. Sleep away my problems."

"You're such a dick."

"You love me, really." He flashes you another signature cocky grin.

You don't even dignify that with a response. "What exactly are we doing then? Just... hanging out in my room?"

Minho hesitates, then looks back at the vent, then you again as a sly smile slowly creeps across his face. "I think I have a better idea."

And that is how you end up crawling through a vent in the middle of the night, and following your chaotic friend through the facility. Minho is a lot calmer than you are; cracking jokes, whistling and generally being a cocky little shit. You, however, are hissing at him every thirty seconds to shut the fuck up.

Somehow, you both stumble into a vacant hall. Well, Minho dragged you through another vent and whilst he gracefully jumped down, you fell in a heap on the floor.

"Christ-" you grumble as you dust yourself off, looking around the room. It's dark, unusually so - the only light creeping in from under the locked door to the room from the buzzing halogen bulbs. "Where are we?"

Despite your low tone, Minho doesn't do much to hide his voice. "Dunno. Damn - this place is huge!" The boy chuckles to himself, dragging his hand across the wall to navigate, the sound of his words, and comfort, creeping away from your reach.

"Minho-" you say into the void, further panic swelling in your gut.

"Yo, I think I found a light switch."

Before you can object that this is a bad idea, there's a hollow click, quickly follow by a binding light.

You weren't expecting it; expecting the same dull bulbs that consume the WICKED labs. But what you get is anything but.

The entire ceiling springs to life, imitating the bright blue of the sky you haven't seen since you found yourself in WICKED's custody.

"Holy shit-" Minho gawks upwards as he stares, too, finally in your line of sight.

The fake sky is scarily realistic - the glow of the sun, the faint fluffy clouds floating across the screen. You're not even sure you could call it a screen, honestly. There's not lines, or glitches or lagging from the technology. It looks so real. Like you could reach out and feel the damp clouds through your fingers, the heat of the sun on your skin.

You look at Minho, who looks at you at the same time. Both of you have no words; how could you? But your silence and exchanges looks say everything words could - what the actual fuck is this?

"...this is.." Minho starts, losing himself quickly.

"..beautiful." You finish for him.

"I was gonna say freaky." He responds, earning a chuckle from you as you wander into the middle of the room. "Hey, there's other buttons-" He says, gesturing to the control panel on the wall that he originally assumed was a light switch.

With the click of his fingers, dark clouds start to fill the fake-sky, creating a dimmer, more stormy atmosphere. But there's no rain. Just clouds.

Those seem to be the only two weather modes as Minho keeps switching between the two. Cloudy and sunny. It's definitely not quite advanced enough to imitate the real thing.

"Look- there's a time monitor." Minho mumbles as he moves a slider. The sky dims, as bright sunset colours fill the ceiling before it creeps into dusk, and then into a series of bright stars.

Minho's goofy grin says enough as he moves away from the controls, joining you in the middle of the room. You barely even notice him until he's crouching the lie on the floor.

"What are you doing?" You raise an eyebrow at him as he moves to lay on his back, looking up.

"Star-gazing, duh. What does it look like?" He says as he smiles at you, before gesturing for you to join him.

"We're gonna get caught-"

"Will you relax?" He chuckles, leaning up on his arms. "When are we ever gonna get a chance to do this for real? Might aswell enjoy it whilst we have the chance."

"It's fake." You cross your arms defiantly.

"Still pretty. Still better than our boring white rooms." He retorts. "C'mon."

You sighs, but relent as you move to lay next to him.

He's right. It really is pretty. The mimic stars sparkle and flutter, and suddenly the labs and the experiments feel worlds away, even if your escape is an extention of your captives skills.

Minho suddenly starts chuckling.

"What? What's so funny?" You say, turning your head to look at him.

"Nothing." He shrugs. "Just thinkin' that if Thomas was here, he'd probably be telling us about all those star thingies."

"...star thingies?"

"Yeah. You know? Those... stars that are, like, in a pattern."

"...constellations?" You can't help the amused smile creeping across your face at your friends ignorance.

"Yeah- those. They got names don't they?" Minho turns to look at you. "Thomas is such a dork. He'd know all of them."

You shake your head as you look back up at the ceiling, but Minho keeps looking at you.

"We should tell the others." You say, not noticing his gaze.

"What?"

"About this room. Newt and Sonya would love this."

"I thought you didn't want to get caught?" He chuckles and you roll your eyes.

"Yeah- but this is cool. They should see it."

A beat passes as Minho continues to look at you. "Nah."

"Nah?" You look at him, surprised by this. He's rebellious and fiery and is normally the first to drag everyone into schemes and fun despite the risks.

"Nah... this is... ours." He says, smiling softly at you, before he shifts slightly to slips his fingers between yours, looking back up. "Just ours."

And that's what it became.

At least once a week, you and Minho would sneak around and into this secret special room. You'd spend hours talking and messing around, and somehow, you didn't get caught. Or maybe some of the kinder WICKED people were turning a blind eye to two kids enjoying themselves.

Who knows.

It was like this for about a year. Maybe a year and a half.

But, things took a turn.

Minho was starting to revieve praise for his athleticism. He became one of the most physically capable subjects, and it was impossible to get him away from a rigged-up treadmill. So, by the end of the day, he was exhausted. Too tired to be crawling around vents with you.

You were thirteen, maybe fourteen when Minho ended up crawling though your vents again.

Hearing the familiar noise, you're out of your bed before he's even here, your bare feet already on the cold floor as he appears.

"Minho-?"

"I know. I know." He grumbles. "I'm sorry." He says, before you can even get so much as a word in, and it leaves you stunned.

"For what?"

"For like... not being here. For neglecting you, I guess." He shrugs as he runs a hand through his hair.

"Neglect-?" You cut yourself off. "Dude, they've been working you to the bone. You don't have to apologise."

He sighs, seemingly of relief. "Yeah, well, I still feel like a dick. You're my best friend."

"Well, you're here now." You attempt to reassure him. "We can go back to the sky room."

He shakes his head. "Nah. I was thinking we could go exploring." He flashes that damn grin at you again.

"...exploring?" You raise a brow, crossing your arms.

"Yeah. Yanno- like me, Newt and Thomas used to do."

"I never joined in with that."

"Well- you should've. And we were exploring when we found the sky room, so you're no so innocent." He chuckles, and you can't help but admit he's right. Yet, he continues at your hesitation. "Look, we found that room by chance. Surely there's more cool and interesting things to find. I'm getting bored of looking at the same fake sky everyday."

Something in that comment stings. You'd never gotten bored of that pretend sky. Maybe because you'd always been with him - and you could never get bored of him.

"C'mon." He drags out the syllable. "One night of exploration. Just one. Who knows how far they'll be making me run from now on. Better take the chance whilst you have it."

You playfully shove him at this. "...fine. One time only. Okay?"

"Okay." He smiles. "Let's go."

So, once again, you find yourself creeping around the sleeping facility with your far too confident best friend.

Though, when Minho reaches a locked door, you would've never expected him to slip an excess card out of his shoe, swiping it into the card reader.

"What? Where did you get that?" You hiss, wide-eyed and stunned.

"Some dumb lab-coat dude left it on the side. So, I picked it up. Finders, keepers." He says as he pushes the door open.

Sneaky around is one thing, finding hidden rooms through vents - but stealing an ID card is something else. You're literally never going to see each other again if you get caught. Not that you get chance to voice your concerns as Minho walks into the room.

This sinking feeling creeps into your gut, yet, you can't find it in yourself to tell Minho. What if he really is starting to find you boring? Being whiney to him about this would only confirm that. You don't need him getting closer with someone else, especially not the flocks of girls in the dining hall who have started taking interest in the boy since he started his physical training.

Okay. Maybe this is creeping beyond friendship. It was years ago, but you're always thinking about the way he held your hand the first time you found that room. How it was just yours. Your special place, just for the two of you. And he doesn't want to go there anymore?

You've never felt so insecure.

So, you keep quiet.

The first room is full of labelled chemicals you don't understand.

The second is full of strange, clouded tubes, with slimy, creatures with metal arms. Even Minho was eager to leave that one - to remain ignorant for his own bliss, pulling you along once you stop to stare into the tubes. You suspect Thomas mentioned something to him. Thomas has always been Ava's favourite.

Though, the third is far less scary. It's a office - well, more like a small library with a computer and a desk. Filing cabinets liter the walls with endless documents.

Minho lets out a low whistle. "A computer." He grins, casually sliding into the office chair as he starts fiddling with the computer. Having most of the common sense in this friendship, you've assumed that the computer is password locked.

Which is confirmed by Minho's hushed cursing.

So, you start looking through the documents in the drawers. A lot of them are medical files and general testing that you don't really understand.

Though, a few documents contain blueprints and titles such as "the Maze Trails" and "The Scorch Trails". They're detailed and confusing.

"Minho-" you gets his attention, passing him the notes as he's distracted from the computer, a puzzled expression crossing his face as he looks through them.

He doesn't get much time to comment as you find another interesting drawer; labelled "Subjects."

Flicking through a few, you recognise the pictures of the people you've spent the last few years with. Teresa. Thomas. Gally.

You stumble upon Minho's- grinning at his awful mugshot style photo. A7. The Leader. They've already got him marked down pretty faithfully.

Though, something consistent through all the documents is the phrase "status: Immune." Something about that stands out to you, for some reason.

That is until you reach Newt's file.

Staus: Nonimmune. Control Variable.

Nonimmune?

Nonimmune.

"Uh, Minho-?"

"These maps are insane." He mumbles, still examining the blueprints. "Do you reckon these are those big plans Thomas is always yapping about?" He picks his head up to look at you, noticing your face drop, concern written throughout your features. "What? What is it?"

"...we're all immune to the Flare, right? That's why they're testing us. To find a cure?" You don't even look up at him.

"Yeah..? Why else would we be here?" His grin is there, same as always, but now it's uneasy and uncertain. You look at him, before walking over and slapping Newt's file onto the table.

It takes him a moment to catch on, but when he does, his face drops, and he just looks at you.

Before any words are exchanged, footsteps can be heard from down a corridor.

"Shit-" you both scramble, collecting all the papers and stuffing them in whatever drawer they came from (or whichever is closest.)

It's a mad dash to get out of the room - adrenaline and fear coursing through you both. You didn't even find your own file.

Are you immune? Could the Flare get you?

Little do you know, Minho is internally freaking out over the same thing.

In your panic, your silence evades you, which alerts whatever guard was prowling the building.

"Quick! Up here!" Minho commands as he struggles to open a vent, giving you a leg up before yanking himself up the wall and diving in.

You don't even know where you're crawling to, you're just trying to rush away. But, eventually, it goes quiet, only the sounds of yours and Minho's panting in the small vent system.

"We have to tell Newt." You say, managing to turn in the small space to face him. Minho hesitates for a moment, but nods.

Of course you have to tell him.

"Yeah, at lunch, tomorrow. We'll tell him. But right now, we have to get back to our rooms. They'll be checking." You nod in agreement. "Let's get you back first."

Minho has a far better memory than you, leading you back to the safety of the room before he turns to navigate the way back to his.

"Minho-" you say, turning to look at him once your feet hut the floor, a sense of dread overwhelming you.

"..yeah?"

You can only look at him. There's so much you want to say, but none of it want to come out. Some deep gut feeling screams at you that this is the end, but you tell yourself you're being silly.

His blank expression pushes you to talk, though.

"Just.. be careful."

He offers a warm smile, but rolls his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. I'll be fine. Don't worry about me. See you at lunch tomorrow."

Your attempt to mimic his expression falls flat as he shimmies back into the vent and on his way.

You didn't know how accurate your instincts would be.

The next day, you make your way to the lunch hall. You're late- your lab testing ended up being longer than possible. But when you enter the dining hall, Minho's absence is quickly noted.

Though, you do spot Newt. Maybe Minho's running has gone overtime, again?

"Newt-" you shout him, jogging across the hall. "Have you seen Minho? We need to talk to you."

Newt doesn't even have to say anything as he glances at Thomas, whose eyes are burning into the table in front of him. There's some sense of desperation in Newt's expression, mixed with grief and regret, but like he can't say anything.

It makes your stomach flip and your heart stop as you open your mouth to speak, but you don't get any sound out.

"(Y/N)." Janson's annoying voice sends a chill down your spine as you turn to look at him. Two guards stand by his sides, his forced grimace doesn't reach his cold, unforgiving gaze. "I need a word."

Janson gestures for you to walk with him and you swallow a lump in your throat. Your first instinct is to run. Like Minho thought you. But in a room full of people? It's not like your quiet escapades in the middle of the night.

Your feet are like concrete as you force yourself to walk towards him.

Janson walks in front of you, the guards behind you. You're trapped, and even if you did run, that wouldn't change anything as he leads you into a room. It's a room you're familiar with.

It's where you have one-on-one progress conversations with Janson to discuss how you're doing. Minho spent more time in here than you ever did, but that doesn't mean the confines space doesn't fill you with anxiety, even in normal circumstances.

You take your place in the cold chair as Janson sits across from you, the slab of metal that is meant to be a table keeping you separated feels like a godsend. Though, not much of one with the guards breathing down your neck.

"...Where's Minho?" You manage to croak, attempting to mimic your missing friends confidence.

"He's been dealt with." Janson says, and your blood runs cold.

"What- what does that mean?"

"I'm sure you already know what that means. From your adventures last night." The world stops.

You knew.

You knew it was a bad idea and your own insecurities led you to keeping your mouth shut and hiding away from your concerns. What? Because of a stupid crush? Your own feelings of inadequacy have led to Minho's demise. And it's soul-crushing.

"I-I don't understand." You words falter, any false confidence quickly shattering.

"It's a shame. Really. It is." Janson nods as he leans forward, his elbows on the table. "We let yours and Subject A7's strange relationship slide because it was showing promising results. New waves in the Killzone we were examining. I knew we should've stopped it." He sighs. "...and now, you know too much."

"Where is he?" You spit, fists clenched, unused adrenaline causing you to tremble.

"I told you." Janson hisses. "You already know. But don't worry. You're not going to remember any of this." Janson nods towards the guards.

"What-" your words catch at a sharp sting in the side of your neck as one of the masked-men injects a burning liquid into you. You gasp, grasping the side of your neck. "What have you done?"

Your words slur slightly as a dull buzz fizzles into your vision, your head feeling light.

"My job." Janson leans back as he watches you sway in your seat. "What was always going to happen."

You can't even respond as your limp body slips out of the seat, and your consciousness leaves you before you even hit the floor.

WHOOP WHOOP. 1K BABYYYYY.

I guess this is my 1k follower post - and it's angst. That's typical of me. Sorry for the massive gap since I last posted something, but everyone's support has given me a drive to write. Well, at least finish writing this. Sorry if its not everything you wanted, but I've always felt there's something so much sadder about not getting that chance to say goodbye to someone, and things fizzing out instead of a bang.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed :)

[ninthprime]

palisade 25 spoiler post : )

fan art idea one. the figure trying to get some sleep but gur won’t stop talking about philosophy in a tone vaguely similar to austin machine elves post

fan art idea two figure has plants now so thisbe waters him with watering can (he is okay with this)

i need to know gur’s pick for movie night right now.

but for real i was liveblogging this episode to a friend and i guessed perennial would give gur to the figure a half hour before it happened. honestly of course. perennial like [gives you a spider]

cor’rina and miseri’s source for the blueprints was definitely mustard red right. what’s on that contract. where is that contract

branched man the hot new meme on strand semaphore. children are dressing up for halloween as branched man. they’re making indie comics about branched man. branched man themed fruit snacks. brnine eats them and cries

this was a really good end for phrygian…ill miss them.

the figure is my sweetie honey and when they were so weak they tripped into the cadent’s hand i was so sad and im happy they got a new outfit thats so gender and a ride in mow

excited for thisbe mage having a lowkey existential crisis arc.

what do we think will happen if the cadent finds out about the devotion and grand connection,

i hope we get some interesting backstory stuff for brnine and routine on the apostolos ship…maybe they have to break out. miseri should come with them

i hope brnine cries also.

i promised multiple friends i would make a very specific post if the real gur and brnine ever were on screen together. this promise was made before the season started. we are now one step closer

Gur Sevraq

[imperator-titus]

Chapter 10 is up!

Tags for whole Story: Astarion x Tav (Rowan, not reader, human, agender AFAB but lets the team refer to them as female), Canon x OC, Isekai, Angst, All the Vampirism Warnings (Blood, Biting, etc.), Sexually suggestive situations, Allusions/Mentions of Suicide, Memory Loss, Gender Dysphoria

Chapter Text for those not on Ao3:

Life in the shadow curse was torture. During the day, Rowan was tormented by ghostly sounds and random shapes entering the corners of her vision. At night she couldn’t sleep well.

It was on the third day that Withers brought her a new test. In his hands was a swirling sphere of otherworldly darkness. She cringed away from it.

“A soul is trapped in this vestige. Release it.”

“I don’t think I want to.”

“Thine fear is unwarranted.” He placed the sphere in her hands. Rowan wanted to chuck it into the distance. “What we do not understand, we fear.”

Rowan tried to steel her nerves. This was once a person, who loved and dreamed. Probably. There were some pretty evil people out there.

“M-mummy?” a small voice called out from the orb. “Where are you?”

“Good lord,” Rowan groaned. Did he pick this one on purpose?

Sitting down cross-legged, with the orb cradled in her lap, Rowan tried to concentrate on the soul nestled at the center of the curse, just as she’d done with the birds and squirrels. Penetrating the icy void was proving more difficult.

With a sigh, Rowan pulled the soul, curse and all, into her death trance.

She would readily admit that she wasn’t good with children. Until recently, she was barely good with adults.

So watching a small child be swarmed by the curse was another level of torment on its own.

“M-mummy?” it called out again once she woke the soul up. The curse was so entrenched that there was just a vague shape of a child made of the swirling inky goo.

“I’m looking for my mummy too,” Rowan lied gently. “Maybe we can look for them together?”

“It’s dark… I can’t see… Where are you?” It turned around in an uneasy circle as it spoke.

“Hold out your hand and I’ll find you.”

“I’m scared…”

“That’s okay, I’m scared too, but if we go together, it won’t be so scary.”

Eventually, the soul stretched out its hand and she took it. The ooze started to transfer, making a disgusting sucking noise as it left the soul and clung to her own skin. It was a horrible feeling, but Rowan knew she would survive it.

It was already slithering down her throat before it left the child’s soul completely. Innocent eyes, large with fear, stared as she slurped the ooze like a wriggling worm. Rowan swallowed and gave the little girl a big smile.

“See? That wasn't so scary.”

“Where do you think our mummies are?” the girl asked tearfully, clinging to Rowan’s hand.

“Well, I think that the first place we should look is through that door.” Rowan turned her charge so she would see the door that led back to the physical plane. “We’ll go together. Everything is easier with a friend.”

The young soul wiped away her tears and put on a brave face. Rowan gave her a stick shaped like a small sword that she waved ahead of her. “We’re coming, Mummy!”

Rowan let the soul lead the way.

When she returned to her body, it felt like she came back to a world that was upside down and a little to the left compared to her original one. It spun back into the right position and the ooze came back up. This time it was a heave instead of just a cough.

Rowan pressed the cold ground against her forehead, wishing to crawl into the earth so nothing could bother her again. The poor soul’s demise echoed inside her. No amount of water could scrub the taste out of her mouth.

“Well done. Here is your next task.” Withers produced another sphere. Rowan glared up at him through tear-filled eyes. He was unperturbed.

“Why? Why are we doing this? Why me?”

“Thou hast been presented with a choice: to do nothing or to do something. Thou hast chosen to release these souls from their torment.”

“Won't they be free if they lift the curse?”

“Perhaps. Dost thou see it come to pass?”

Rowan closed her eyes and tried to focus on the question. She swore that she could see things sometimes. Of course there were the manifestations of the curse that the others seemed to be unaware of. She could feel an impression of Astarion’s mortal self on his death shroud and took every opportunity to hold it in the hopes of picking up something more concrete. Sometimes little wisps or threads glittered in the air around someone.

“No. I don't know what's going to happen,” she admitted bitterly. Withers didn't even speak before she took the second vestige from him. “Are you going to tell me what I'm doing wrong?”

“Thine instinct was correct. This is a test of fortitude.”

Rowan took a deep breath and resigned herself to a living hell.

----

Thankfully, Withers’s tasks didn't keep her from fulfilling her duties to the camp. She was eating dinner and listening to a new history lesson from Volo when the party returned.

“Aah! Our heroes are just in time for this mighty fine stew Rowan prepared!” Volo announced theatrically.

“When is it not stew?” Wyll remarked with a playful chuckle and an easy smile. Rowan finished off her bowl and stood. The man’s expression faltered. “I meant nothing by it.”

“Of course not. I'm just very tired today.” She left the fire to wash her dishes and crawl into her tent.

“Oh, darling, I--” Astarion stopped his cheery greeting when he noticed that she was just… staring at her tent like she was trying to figure out what it was. He clicked his tongue. “Aww. Dear. Just one of those days, hmm?”

Rowan regarded him, a little confused. Shaking her head seemed to clear the cobwebs. “I'm sorry. This place is exhausting.”

“Oh, I know. There’s practically no blood to be found in this place. Which was why…”

“Ah, I forgot…” Astarion waved her apology away.

“Really, darling, I’ll survive.”

“At the very least… Would you like me to stay with you tonight? Keep your tent warm?” He smiled and held out a hand. “I would be honored, my dear.”

Astarion’s tent was more private, so Rowan changed into her sleeping clothes there. Distracted by a mystery hole in her shirt, she stood topless with her back to him. Almost hungry enough to be happy with a rat, he silently stepped behind her and buried his face in her neck. It was a stupid thing to do; he knew it would lead to an argument about how she couldn’t trust him.

Instead of screaming at him or fighting him off, Rowan covered the front of her body with the shirt she was inspecting. Testing his limits, Astarion placed a hand on her hip to help keep her steady. The other ghosted over the skin of her shoulder and down her back. It was warm and soft. His touch made her shiver, but she didn’t make him stop.

“May I?” he whispered deeply, cold breath on her neck. Her body shook and his grip on her hips tightened as he felt her knees weaken. Gently, he guided her to sit on the floor.

“I’m just tired. It’s okay,” Rowan reassured him softly, leaning back against his chest. Astarion’s hands traced the length of her arms until they overlapped her hands, still clutching the shirt to her chest. Pulling her closer so her back was pressed against his chest, Astarion sunk his teeth into her neck.

When he was done, he let her go, but not without his touch lingering. He made a valiant effort to look away while she put on her shirt, but between her tiredness and the bloodletting, Rowan didn’t seem to care so much anymore “Are you sure that you’re alright, darling?”

“I think it’s the darkness,” she explained, turning to face him. 

“It is depressing, isn’t it?” Astarion sat down on his bedroll and patted the one laid out beside it. “I’m not one for cuddles, but you look in need of some.”

“As long as it’s what you want.” Rowan crawled onto her bedroll as well, fully intending to pass out then and there if he walked back his offer.

“In this moment, I want to make you happy more than I think a little platonic snuggling will bother me.” She stared at him with barely open eyes. Sighing, she moved closer to him. “If you’re lying, I’m sorry. I’m too tired to figure it out.”

“You can trust me to not rip your throat out, but not lie about this?” he asked in genuine disbelief.

Rowan held a hand out towards him. “Bread.” She held her hand to herself. “Butter.”

After a moment, Astarion laughed and grabbed her, pulling her down with him. She attached herself to his side, face lying on his chest, arm lying across his waist, and one leg draped over his. Her heat immediately started to sink into his cold flesh.

“It’s weird. You not having a heartbeat. I keep expecting to hear it.” Astarion placed a hand on her shoulder, keeping her from rolling away. The other laid on his stomach, just above hers. Very slowly, he stuck out his pinky so it could briefly touch her arm before retracting.

“Perhaps if I fed on an entire human, it would come back. I’m really only taking enough from you to keep my senses sharp and I can’t get much from someone in the midst of a fight,” he explained, repeating his little touching game all the while. She either didn’t notice or didn’t mind. “But no matter what, I will always be hungry.”

Rowan tried to respond, but only managed some muttered gibberish that even his acute hearing couldn’t parse. Her body began to warm up as it always did when she fell asleep. He’d have to roll her off so they could rest in proper positions, but he wanted to live in this moment a little longer. 

Was this what friends did? Astarion had never laid with anyone like this, so it was possible. Her warmth became his warmth for a bit. Her heart thumped steadily against his side. Breathing wasn’t necessary, but he would follow the rise and fall of her chest. 

Complete darkness overcame him before his darkvision allowed him to see. The air was stale, reeking of dirt and decaying wood. He could barely move. This place was familiar in the worst way possible.

His grave.

It was useless, but he banged on the lid of his coffin. Screaming at the top of his lungs, he clawed away splinters of wood. Tears started to roll down his face from the effort. Eventually, he gave up. There was nothing to do but lie here in absolute silence and darkness, waiting for Cazador to get bored of this punishment.

A sound from above startled him. Was it just someone passing by to pay their respects to someone else? Astarion considered screaming again, but what if it was Cazador? Pleading might please the vampire lord to hear his favorite pet beg, or he could unleash an even worse punishment for trying to escape.

The sound got louder, but was never the same. Astarion placed his palm against the lid uncertainly. He snapped it back to his chest when the piece of wood vibrated from an impact. His ears hurt from the deafening scraping noises.

Cazador had finally come for him. He should’ve been relieved, but he was frozen in terror.

Astarion closed his eyes tight as the lid was removed. Even the moonlight was too bright now.

“Well, hello,” a voice above him purred. He would recognize his master’s voice anywhere, and this certainly wasn’t him. The voice was a little deep and mellow.

Astarion just barely opened an eye. A tall figure was standing over him in the open grave, leaning on the coffin’s lid.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. Let’s start with getting out of here,” the man told him in a calm and reassuring voice. Not a grave robber? Who else would be digging up graves in the middle of the night? Had this man heard his cries?

“I shouldn’t,” Astarion whispered, hoarse from his screaming. “My master…”

The man looked around and then shrugged. “I see no master here. Come. I know a place. You’ll be safe there.”

A hand was offered to him. Astarion stared at it. Uncertainly, he spoke up. “I’m a vampire.”

“I know, Astarion.”

“How do you know my name?” he asked as he took the stranger’s hand.

“I guess you can’t recognize me…” The man helped him stand up and steadied him with a firm hand when his legs threatened to give out. Astarion pushed the hand away.

“Don’t touch me,” he demanded in a clipped tone. The man backed off easily.

“Of course. Shall we?” Without waiting for a response, his savior lifted himself out of the grave and brushed off his clothes as he waited for Astarion to do the same.

“So. Where is this place that you think is so safe?”

“Right through here.” The man reached out his hand and a door shimmered into existence. Astarion nearly took a step back into his grave. “Would you care to join me?”

He shouldn’t. Cazador would be furious if he lost his favorite spawn. Maybe he could lie and say he’d lured in a powerful monster hunter? This man knew he was a vampire after a second of seeing him.

But he wanted to. A place where Cazador couldn’t find him? Someone who could possibly protect him?

Astarion put on one of his charming smiles. His face was covered in dirt, sweat, and tears, but it was still charming. “Absolutely, darling.”

If he needed to breathe, Astarion would’ve held in a breath as he crossed the magical threshold.

He screeched. It was a trap! Moonlit night had turned to a sunny day. He could feel his skin burn already. Astarion tried to run back through the door, but he ran into the man instead.

“It’s okay!” the man cried, wrapping his cloak around the vampire. “It’s not real. Let me show you.”

With a motion of the man’s hand, the sun turned into the moon and the air cooled. Astarion pulled away uncertainly. His flesh wasn’t burning to ash from the sun; he’d felt its warmth for the first time since turning. Slowly, the man moved his hand and the moon turned into the sun once more.

“Nothing will hurt you here, I promise.”

“Who are you?” Astarion asked in disbelief. The man’s eyes felt familiar, like they may have known each other before.

“Rowan,” the man answered with just a tinge of sadness in those beautiful eyes.

Rowan was tall and strong, but not too muscular. Long auburn hair was pulled into a tail at the base of his skull. His beard and mustaches were decorated with braids and ornaments. He was dressed like a proper adventurer and he carried it well.

“Well, Rowan,” Astarion purred, giving the man his best seductive glance, “what can I do to repay you?”

Rowan laughed and its timbre vibrated in Astarion’s stomach. “You can enjoy the pleasures of my home. Please, have a bath, change out of those graveclothes.”

Rowan’s home was warmly lit and the air was the same temperature as his skin. That didn’t really make sense, considering there was a fire going in the hearth. Despite the eclectic hoard decorating every available surface, the place had a sense of order.

The bath was already drawn and steaming when Astarion found it. A carefully folded pile of clothes were waiting for him. Peeling off his filthy clothes and lowering himself into the warm water squeezed all the pain and stress out of his body. The soap was perfectly fragrant. He could’ve stayed in that bath forever.

His new clothes were comfortable, but finely made. The fabric was soft against his skin and just loose enough to freely move but not so large that it made him look small. Someone had put a lot of time and skill into embroidering it with delicate vines.

Astarion found Rowan in the kitchen, humming a song that he didn’t know. On the table was a bottle and a glass wine goblet filled with an opaque red liquid. Silently, he approached the table and reached out for the glass. He came to his senses and asked, “Is this for me?”

“Of course. You may drink as much as you’d like,” Rowan answered without turning around. Astarion brought the glass to his lips and nearly choked when he realized that it was human blood. For the first time, he was allowed to drink real blood. The glass was quickly emptied and filled again. He must have done this five times before he noticed that the bottle never ran out. Rowan had meant what he said.

“Why are you doing this?” Astartion asked once he found the courage. By then, he could feel his dead heart slowly beat back to life with all the blood flowing through him now.

Rowan stopped what he was doing- making bread?- and regarded Astarion with what felt like warmth and fondness. It was hard to tell with the beard.

“Some day, you’ll meet me. Out there, on the physical plane. I won’t look like this. You’ll make fun of me for my height and we’ll drive each other crazy, but we’re friends. Being around you makes me happy and I hope that I will make you happy too.”

Astarion didn’t know what to say. He didn’t have the opportunity.

It was dark outside of the tent, but that didn’t mean it was still night. The only heat in the tent radiated from the body curled up next to him. For a split second, he wondered why it wasn’t the man from his dream. Laughing to himself, Astarion felt foolish.

Rowan took a deep breath, held it, and then woke up all at once. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she asked, “What’s so funny?”

“Just a very strange dream,” he told her as he stretched.

“I thought you don’t dream.”

“Who knows what I am capable of anymore?”

“You’ll have to tell me sometime,” Rowan said sleepily, picking up her camp clothes. “Did you like your first cuddle?”

“I would be… open to another opportunity.” Astarion watched as she changed outfits. The taste of her blood still lingered on his tongue. “Thank you. For your blood, I mean. I’ve seen nothing but shades and undead.”

“If I could drain myself into a bucket for you, I would.” At this, she chuckled. “Only way I could get some proper rest these days.”

“My precious darling, are we demanding too much of you?” he purred as he crawled over to her and took hold of her chin. Rowan stared at him with her mouth open, a blush blooming on her face. Astarion looked down at her lips and leaned in a little bit.

“Not friendly!” Rowan cried, backing away so quickly that she fell out of her crouch onto her back. Getting to her feet, she clutched her sleeping clothes to her chest and managed an embarrassed apology before slipping out of his tent.

“Right. That was certainly not what friends do,” Astarion muttered angrily to himself.

----

It was nice having Halsin back in the camp after the group helped him restore the spirit of the forest. The shadow-curse was still around, but even Rowan could tell that the land was trying to change.

“This curse has been weighing on me for a century. To think that it is almost over…” he was saying to her as he helped carry all the junk the guys brought back to Last Light. Sure, sometimes they’d sell it along their way, but there were many times they just chucked everything into a pile and forgot about it. Before, it was no trouble for Rowan to take it to a merchant. With the shadow-curse, they didn’t want her going alone.

“What will you do? Go back to the grove?”

“I… I actually don’t know.” Halsin looked like he just realized this. “But I will not go back to the grove. In my obsession with the shadow-curse, I failed in my duty to protect and guide them. They deserve better.”

“Mm… obsessing over something for 100 years? That’d be hard to move past.” Rowan smiled up at him brightly. “Does that mean you’re staying with us?”

“Yes. They aided me in lifting the shadow-curse. That is a rather serious debt to repay.” 

“I’m glad. I like you. You make me feel safe.” Halsin became a little shy.

“I like you as well. I admire your dedication to your companions. Your… love and grace.”

“Aww,” she cooed, pulling her head down between her shoulders. His hand patting her head only made her redder.

Thankfully he stopped when they got to Last Light. As she dealt with all the stuff they brought, Halsin checked in on the man that led him to Thaniel. Rowan dropped off ingots with Dammon and gave the rest to the quartermaster or Mattis. She went around checking on the tieflings until Halsin was ready to go back to camp.

Rolan was still in the corner, drunk and miserable. When he noticed her, he rolled his eyes and sighed.

“Come to rub it in?” he groused before having some of his drink.

“No. I just wanted to make sure you got back alright,” Rowan told him calmly, a small smile on her face.

“We should have been in Baldur’s Gate by now. I never should have let Lia convince me to stay in the grove.”

“You could all be dead if you traveled this way alone.” Her eyes wandered as she spoke. Was that…?

“Yeah, well, that would have been preferrable to this torture.” Rolan noticed her reaching towards him and backed away. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“You don’t see this?” she asked, gesturing towards a floating string of bluish white light. Judging by his reaction, he didn’t. Rowan pinched the end of the string and tried to tug it. It went taut with a resounding twang. Rolan looked around in confusion, trying to find the source of the sound. A smile broke out on Rowan’s face.

“What are you smiling about?” he asked her suspiciously.

“I just have a very good feeling that you’ll see Cal and Lia again and you’ll finally get to Baldur’s Gate.” She let go of the string and watched as its thinner, duller cousins broke and faded.

“Is everyone in your little group a weirdo?” Rowan burst into laughter and for the first time in what felt like forever, a small smile showed itself on Rolan’s face.

“Of course! No one else can stand us,” she told him with a grin. Rolan’s cheeks turned a darker shade of red.

“You were kind to all of us, at your little party. I suppose I didn’t thank you.”

“You didn’t have to,” Rowan placed a hand on his arm, “but I appreciate it all the same. Thank you for the lights.”

“I could… do it again, if you’d like,” he offered sheepishly. Her eyes practically sparkled in response. Chuckling, he got off the stool and reached a new level of embarrassment as Rowan made sure he didn’t snap an ankle when he tottered. Brushing the wrinkles out of his robes, he found his balance and composure. With wizardly flair and the proper words, he summoned a spray of colored lights. 

“You’re going to be a wonderful wizard,” Rowan told him once she stopped being so utterly captivated. Rolan went to finish his drink, but seemed to think better of it. 

“Thank you,” Rolan managed to say through his smile.

Rowan said her goodbyes and found Halsin waiting for her. He had a knowing look on his face, but he didn’t say anything. When they got to the bridge back into the shadow-curse, the druid offered his hand.

“Astarion made me promise to keep you close. He said you had quite the reaction the first time you left,” he explained kindly, giving her one of his reassuring smiles. 

Rowan gladly took his hand, but she had a feeling that it wouldn’t be so horrifying this time.

[artificialcaracal]

In light of the new Tennesee anti-drag bill being passed, it’s important to note in the midst of all the (rightful) clowning on it to remember that laws like this are never enforced equally.  It is highly unlikely that someone’s gonna have the clown hired to perform at a child’s birthday party arrested for being in front of kids.

This law is about punishing people for appearing gender non-conforming in public, plain and simple.  This is about driving diverse expressions of gender out of the public eye and demonizing LGBTQ+ people as being law breaking deviants.  This bill is meant to make it essentially illegal to exist as a trans, gnc, or nonbinary person.  That might not be how it’s specifically worded but that is  how it will be enforced. 

How do I know this?  Because this strategy has been done before.  It’s incredibly old.  It’s older than Nixon.  It’s older than Jim Crow.  It’s even older than anti-crossdressing laws.  As long as there have been racial and social underclasses in the United States there have been laws like this meant to keep them in place.  Prior to Reconstruction there were slave codes that stated that African slaves were considered neither human, nor citizens.  After Reconstruction many southern states would enact Black Codes that were explicitly made for the purposes of punishing African Americans and forcing them into slave-like labor contracts to work of debt from fines.  These “crimes”  included and were not the least bit limited to breaking a labor contract (quitting your job), vagrancy (being unemployed), holding an assembly with other black people without police permission, serving in office, carrying a weapon (which could range from anything considered ammunition to a knife) without license from a (invariably white) judge, and miscegenation (having sexual relations with a white person).

These laws were passed not just to squeeze more free labor out of free black people, but to drive them out of public spaces (where white people wanted to be without having to deal with all those pesky minorities spending their free time not existing in perpetual servitude) and reinforce the belief that blacks were more inclined to criminal behavior and needed to be kept in line via hard labor and corporal punishment.  They aren’t human beings being “sold into slavery” they’re “criminal vagrants” being “leased out” to companies to “work off their debt”.

And this anti-drag law is the same deal.  It’s a legal foundation being set to brutalize LGBT+ and GNC people.  The people passing this bill do not care about the specific legal wording.  They want it to be broad and vague so that just about anyone can fall under it, so that just about anyone they don’t like can be labeled a criminal, so that just about anyone they want to hurt can suddenly be stripped of their humanity and their rights.  If you don’t want to capitulate to rigid, regressive conservative ideas about gender and present in the ways they say is okay for you to present, this is their grounds for driving you to the margins of society.

You don’t wanna dress in the ways a bunch of cis white dudes say you should?  Fine, but you can’t exist in public then, and you can’t be around minors lest they get it in their heads that it’s okay to play with gender norms and expectations. you can’t express yourself at a pride march without the risk of getting arrested and being being brutalized by police.  You can’t so much as dress up however you want to go to a gay bar because in order to travel there you’d have to go out in public first.  Wanna go to the park?  Fuck you.  Wanna pick up your kid from school?  Fuck you.  Do you want to be a teacher?  Do you want to be able to work at all?  Fuck you.  Do you want to express yourself and participate in any community event with minors?  Fuck you.  Fuck you.  Fuck you.  Fuck you because you’re not a person anymore.  You’re a “gender criminal” and a "danger to children” now, and that means you’re no longer entitled to your constitutional right to exist.

This bill is stupid.  Everyone is right to call it stupid, but don’t think for a second that it isn’t dangerous.  That it isn’t going to be the basis for further institutional violence.  That it can’t and won’t be used to put a stranglehold queer expression.  That it doesn’t set a dangerous precedent for further anti-LGBT+ legislation.  Conservatives and their bigoted bedfellows did not push this bill out of incompetence and they will not stop here.

I don’t mean to be all doom and gloom here, I’m just straight up incredibly pissed y’know, because this shit sucks. BUT It’s not the end of the world.  There are still reasons to keep going and keep fighting for our right to exist, and that’s because bigots don’t want us to.  All of this trying to legislate people out of existence is because we simply don’t fit into their worldview.  It’s why there’s no reason to debate fascists, or homophobes, or transphobes, or racists, or any other bigots of any kind.  Whatever ideology they’re subscribed to simply doesn’t have have room for us.  We can’t exist in it, but we do exist don’t we?  You exist.  I exist.  That’s an undeniable fact.  You can’t be proven to not exist, and you have all the proof to say that you do, just by continuing to be.  All you have to do is keep going, to keep on living.  There’s no argument.  There’s no refutation.  There’s no debate.  To even engage with their ideas requires you to accept the premise that you don’t exist, and that just isn’t reality.  You’ve got no reason to bother with their flirtations with violence disguised as intellectual play.  Keep yourself safe, help your friends stay safe, and most importantly remember that you’re real, and that nobody can take that from you.

[evershifting]

caine the longshot: literally does nothing but shoot a couple of times and kill themselves

Me: oh....ur mine now bitch anyway some headcannons for a character that literally has NOTHING LORE WISE under readmore cause it got a lil long

They're selectively mute and mostly just communicate through sign language or just nods and vague gestures they only speak when needed and for the rare one liner they do have a throat injury so they sound "odd" to some/a voice they do not expect coming from them.

Most don't realize it but they do have cybernetics limps most of their right leg and arm. They store bullets in little compartments so even if you think they're out they're not KLHJKLJH. They designed and made their own cybernetics. Lost their arm in an accident and the leg was heavily damaged so they eventually just....replaced it anyway to not deal with the pain. 

They are a master with animals and have utilized hounds/hound like creatures to draw out bounties/prey to shoot but due to the same incident that heavily damaged his body he lost his pack and just....can't bring himself to train another set of dogs so he's switched to birds. 

He has specialized collars that are mostly hidden within their feathers that have a small camera attached to it. The eye that is covered is actually a cybernetic eye that can view between the different cameras they keep it covered because its nauseating as the eye tries to see normally as well as switch between the cameras its disorienting. He only removes it to use its secondary function which can be activated by pressing a button on the side of their head which allows them to zoom in and track things as well as enhance any tracks that may not be normally seen with the naked eye. The cybernetic eye can pick up the slightest disturbances in the sand.

He prefers to ride on animals as they're more reliable than vehicles in his eyes and well...desperate situations you can eat a thomas/other pack animal but you can’t eat a car. But he will use a vehicle if needed. Their gender is eeeeeh but most use they/he and they’ve never said not to but honestly they don’t really care they are caine. They also like never take their hood and mask off not even Legato truly knows whats under there (Midvalley has a 200k double dollar reward if any of the gung ho guns can catch caine without their mask and poncho like attire that covers their head and shoulders.) 

Caine likes to live off the land and use everything so all their clothes are made from hand from animals he’s killed or pelts he’s bought from other hunters. Other than the jacket on his back that is was a “gift” which allows him to turn almost invisible if he doesn’t move for a certain amount of time those with very very keen eyesight can still see their hazy outline. 

He has a great respect for nature and the food chain and says a little prayer for every animal he kills no matter how big or small. Even for humans, he says a simple prayer but it’s different from the ones for animals. He doesn’t hate humanity but they defiantly dislike the ones who abuse nature or do not appreciate what the land gives them. They won’t kill unless needed but if you poach animals and waste them he….well treats you the same way as you treat animals.

He is religious but it’s a very uncommon religion in No Man’s Land with pagan roots. They get very annoyed at anyone who tries to say their religion is the right one etc they rarely discuss it and most wouldn’t even know he’s religious unless they recognized the religious symbol he wears on a necklace and is carved into his guns and cybernetics. (i might actually go deeper into his religion at one point and develop it more)

Refuses to kill children of any species (unless its a mercy killing) they believe strongly in that fact and nothing even threats of death will make them kill a child or someone of pure innocence in their eyes. Thats it for now once I read the manga fully i’ll probably have more headcannons.

[yanderes-galore]

Childhood Ruined

Originally Known As 'Deceptive Possession'

A/N: It's vague if this is Platonic or Romantic. You can decide. Let me know what you think of this :)

Yandere! Nightmare Fredbear Scenario

Pairing: Platonic/Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Possessive behavior, Overprotective behavior (?), Slight sadism, Demons, Isolation, Manipulation, Vague if Platonic or Romantic.

"How upsetting...You really don't remember me?"

You keep your distance from the beast. Teeth and claws as sharp as knives threatened to tear into you. Red eyes bore down on you with a michevious gaze

"Stay back, you demon- I've never met you before in my life!"

Your flashlight shakes in your hand, the large demonic bear approaching closer. It was as if he crawled out of hell himself to torment you. Had he always been here? How did he know you?

"Never met? What I lie! We've met before when you were younger.... Remember that?"

"I had an imaginary friend...." You stop midsentence, the bear laughing. His top mouth shuttering to reveal a large nasty tongue.

"There you go! An imaginary friend based on your favorite character when you were younger! Is that not what I am?"

"He looked nothing like you...."

"Another lie! I am a demon, as you said. I can change my appearance! I just felt this one suited the situation~"

"To scare me...."

"Perhaps! That's for you to decide, is it not?"

The demonic bear reaches towards you, claws digging into your shoulders.

"Now, c'mere~ Give your pal Fredbear a hug!"

Your eyes stare at the mouth on his stomach.

-----

When you were younger you were a lonely child. There weren't many children to play with, or things to do. Your one solace was being able to go to Fredbear's Family Diner on special occasions.

Fredbear was your favorite. The golden bear was large and friendly, singing songs with his pal Springbonnie. You adored watching them for most of your life.

As result, you had developed an imaginary friend. One that was just like the fluffy golden bear you adored. Your very own Fredbear.

When you were younger your parents didn't mind. Kids have overactive imaginations! So what if you imagined a fluffy gold bear as your friend?

They did get a bit scared when there were noises throughout the night, however. Ones of laughter and footsteps.

Yet there was nothing there.....

You loved the bear and grew up with him. Games of hide & seek were a favorite. You played with him until you were a teen.

When you were younger you found it odd that you could physically feel the bear, however. Every friendly hug felt warm to the touch. Perhaps you were just dreaming that part.

"What a lonely child, do not fret, I'll be here for you always. Just be sure to call me!"

Until you transitioned to middle school, Fredbear was always there. Always there to greet you with a smile and sparkling eyes.

Although you noticed he got mad easier now. That when you came home from school after speaking with others he looked betrayed.

"I thought I was your only friend, (Y/N)... You won't forget me, will you?"

You said you wouldn't, but as work and school marched on you had to mature. You ignored him in an attempt to grow up.

Who knew that when you'd grow up your past monsters would haunt you?

----

"I will admit, the house you picked is quite lovely.... Hope you don't mind me crashing here with you?"

The demon was so casual when speaking. Claws threatened to stab into your back while the large bear sat you on his lap. A rumble of a laugh erupted from him.

"I used to do this with you all time. Better when I change my size, yeah? You'll always be so small compared to me."

You don't dare push against him, no matter how his eyes urged you to. It was like he was coaxing you to bleed for him.

"What made you come back, then. Especially as...this?"

The golden demon stares at you before holding you closer.

"You could say I missed you. Although that may be a lie. Who's to say? I adore my doll~"

His large claws move to hold your hands up to his monstrous face. They rested right on his cheeks, above his gaping maw.

"Not as fluffy, right? Oh how times change. Too bad you ignored me. You don't need anyone else except me, the beast who's attached to you."

You can't stare long, looking away before the bear moves you to the bed you were sat on.

"Well, why don't we play a game like old times?"

The bear holds you down before you run off. You swallow thickly.

"Hide & Seek was a classic when you were younger. We could always play 'tag', too. Which one shall we play today?"

His friendliness was an act. You had a feeling once he caught you in one of his games you'd bleed for punishment. You couldn't read why he was so fixated on you.

The bear studied your expressions, grin gleaming with sharp teeth.

"Take your time, my dear. We have all the time in the world."

The demon leans forward, hot breath fanning over your face.

"It's not like I'm leaving anytime soon. Not when I finally have your eyes on me~!"

[mrsmaybank]

My Little Sun - Spencer Reid x Reader

“Can you imagine it?” I started, “A little girl who looks just like you? I’d be in so much trouble.”                  

She giggled, “Absolutely whipped.”                       

PART ONE HERE

A/N: It came out fast!!! I had lowk already started it, so that’s why this update came so quickly. Please don’t expect them all to come this fast LMAO. I usually write slow as fuck. Anyway, I really hope you guys like this part so I can maybe just maybe turn this into a mini series. Please lmk if you guys like :) 

CONTENT WARNINGS: KIDNAPPING, PREGNANCY, LANGUAGE, MENTIONS OF SEX (lmk if i missed any please) 

I paced the bullpen as the team spoke to Penelope. The shock of her pregnancy was starting to wear off, and now I could think more clearly. How could she? What was she thinking? 

Recently, I’d found myself thinking about it more, a baby her and a mini-me. A family of my own, with the love of my life. It was exciting and like a lovesick fool it made my stomach fuzzy. But she wasn’t ready and I couldn’t do that to her. So how could she do it to herself? She hadn’t finished school, hadn’t started her career. She could barely take care of herself! I wasn’t mad, absolutely not. Just disappointed at her self-sabotage and the fact she’d made the decision completely without me. I couldn’t think about it for long though, because I was swiftly reminded by my surroundings that right now, there was a chance I’d lose her, our child and any children we wanted to have in the future. That was the priority. 

“Garcia, check her credit card records, we need to see where she last was.” Hotch said. 

“Uhm, okay,” Penelope took a deep breath while clicking away, “Let’s see. Her last purchase was last night, 6:49 at a CVS Pharmacy, oh--” 

“What Garcia?” Hotch asked. 

“She was um, picking up her monthly case of birth control.” 

JJ broke the silence, “Spence…” she started towards me. 

I breathed a sigh of relief, “Thank god.” 

“Thank god?” Morgan questioned. 

“She’s 23.” I wiped my face, “Whole life ahead of her.” The team understood what I was trying to say. Rossi’s hand fell on my shoulder, giving it a squeeze. 

“So why would she tell Brook she was?” Garcia asked. 

“I uh, I..I don’t know.” I spat out. I really had no idea.  

“Think Reid.” Rossi told me. “You guys ever talk about kids or pregnancy?”

“She might be trying to send us a message,” Emily added. 

I thought back to the last time we discussed starting a family. 

--FLASHBACK-- 

We were surrounded by timeless pieces of art and history, and yet the true masterpiece was still her. She was always beautiful to me, a perfect being, truly. But today, something about the way she looked today specifically, made her look like the kind of beauty you see in a painting. Had she been a painting, her creator must have been skilled. Each stroke of his brush creating every divine curve of her face and body to produce a work of magnificent art, one that I so proudly hung on the walls of my heart. 

I remember exactly what she wore, and how it felt to take it all off. The painter had an eye for color. Her denim skirt, the length or lack thereof making me embarrassingly wary, was blue like the Mediterranean Sea, complementing the pigment of the skin of her legs. A white button down made of silk, not worn properly, of course. Too many buttons were left open at the top, as to draw attention to the gold adorned on her chest, but in the spell of temptation she procured to cast upon me, my eyes wandered to admire territories of her body they shouldn’t have. Not in public, at least. The buttons at the bottom were left untouched as well, revealing the soft skin of her stomach. She looked like an angel, but of course, went out of her way to instead be my temptress.

My affinity for her beauty aside, the wide eyes in delight at the museum artifacts and careful attention to my commentary were what made our excursion wonderful. The feeling of her smaller hand in mine, and the giggles and the teasing “You’re way too nerdy to be so stupid hot Dr. Reid.” made it absolutely perfect. 

In exchange for her listening so attentively to my historical facts and stories, I took her for ice cream. She insisted we ate it on the greens of Lincoln Park. Who was I to deny her that? What came next--I expected. She’d devoured it. Made a mess of strawberry ice cream on her white shirt. 

“It was the wind!” She insisted as the first of many drips of ice cream fell down her chin. 

“No it was not!” I argued back while wiping it, “You just never learned how to eat ice cream properly.” I gently removed the cone from her hands and into mine, taking an overzealous bite. “This, lovey, is how you eat ice cream.” 

“Give it back, you...you dickass!” She snorted. We laughed like two lovesick teenagers. 

“Dickass?” I asked, eyes watery from laughter. 

“Yeah dickass, give me back my damn ice cream.” I took another bite, “Stop! You’re eating it all!” She pouted. Pouts were unfortunately my weakness and I handed it back to her. However, in her rush, the pink scoop had fallen directly on her blouse. 

“Way to prove my point,” I started to take off my cardigan, “You want dickass’s sweater?” 

She wanted to be mad but couldn’t contain the wince of a smile. “Please.” 

We carefully removed her shirt from under while simultaneously putting the cardigan in its place. 

“Spence don’t let me flash! There’s kids and judgmental old ladies here!” 

I laughed and shushed her, “I know, I know.” I moved all the fabrics quickly and it was done. Her sticky pink shirt was replaced with my soft sweater. “There.” 

“My hero,” She kissed me, “Truly.”

She leaned back on our picnic blanket on her shoulders as we observed our fellow park goers. “So many kids.”  

I nodded my head in agreement. “Yeah…” 

“We should bring our kids here one day.” she said, instantly breaking my haze from the crowd so I could only see her. 

I smiled again at the thought, “Yeah, and tell them how their mom is the world's clumsiest ice cream eater.”

She looked at me with disdain before shoving her shoulder into mine. “Shut up.” 

“Can you imagine it?” I started, “A little girl who looks just like you? I’d be in so much trouble.” 

She giggled, “Absolutely whipped.” 

I toppled her so we were laying down, facing each other. She kissed me hard, and my hands went to the sides of her face, only pulling back to say “I can’t wait for it, you know. My two little girls.” 

She smiled, “But I’ll always be your favorite right?” she asked sarcastically. 

I laughed, “Oh of course. Always.” 

“I’ll have a big ol’ belly, you know.” I nodded, “You’d still be perfect.” 

“We’d have to go to the mall, buy me a shitload of new clothes. Do ya know how dirty malls are Spence?” I winced at the thought of thousands of strangers bacteria on every surface and she laughed, “Got ya.” I shook my head, “Nope! I uh, I’ll just bring hand sanitizers and uh, to the Maternity section we’ll go.” 

“Non-stop Panda express eating.” I nodded again, “I’ll be non-stop Panda Express buying, then.” She smiled so hard her nose scrunched. 

“I love you Spencer.” 

“I love you too. I am so in love with you.” 

--FLASHBACK ENDS--

“Yeah but it was trivial.” I said. 

“Maybe not,” Hotch argued, “Was anything mentioned specifically?” 

“A name she liked?” Prentiss added, “Maybe a craving she thought she might have? Anything at all?” 

I nodded, “Not a food, but a fast food place. Panda Express.” I doubted that would be helpful. 

“It’s a stretch but, Garcia, check for any dilapidated buildings within 10 miles of a Panda Express.” 

“Yes sir,” She typed away and then said, “No, guys. I’m sorry. All of our Panda Express’s are in pristine malls or new developments.” 

“Mall!” I shouted, “She said we’d have to go to the mall! She knows I hate the mall.” 

Morgan pointed at us, “The tiles in that room look like they could be from some 80’s Bloomingdales.” 

“Garcia-” I said. 

“Already on it.” 

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

The pregnancy ruse was either going to get me killed, or save my life. It was a moment of panic and I just wanted to throw her off. I know it did, but in what direction? 

She was still crying, her demeanor with me was still laced with bitter animosity, but she was calmer now. 

“How long have you known?” Brook asked, the contents of her flask now empty and her words slurred. 

“I found out yesterday.” I lied through my teeth. 

She shrugged her shoulders, “Had you guys talked about it?” 

“Vaguely.” I admitted. 

“What’d Spencer want? Boy or girl?” I debated on whether or not to say, and she caught on. “Don’t fucking lie.” She stated harshly. 

“Girl.” I breathed out. “He wants a girl.” 

“What do you want?” she asked. 

“I don’t care.” I said. That was true. 

“How come?” 

“I just want to start a family with him. Don’t really care about the gender…” That was true as well. 

“Oh.” she nodded her head, “Why’d he want a girl?” It was strange, her  genuine curiosity. It freaked me out, but my alternative was being stabbed. I chose to just answer her questions, regardless of how much I really did not want to.  

“He liked the idea of a little girl who looked like me.” 

She winced, eyes tearing up further. “Right.” I was beginning to realize her feelings were very real. 

“You really like him, don’t you?” I asked. I knew I shouldn’t have but I couldn’t help it. My head was still looking for an answer as to how she could be driven to do something like this. 

She clasped her hands together, her anger returning.  “Don’t fucking start. You know nothing of what I feel for Spencer.” She came up closer and tugged at my hair, “Fucking nothing.” 

“Okay,” I grimaced at the pain from the force at which she pulled my hair, “I-I’m sorry.” 

She let go, “You should be. You really, really fucking should be.” She sat back down, pensive for a while. I wish I knew what she was thinking about. 

My heart had not stopped it’s fast pace ridden with anxiety since I gained full awareness of my situation, but now, it felt like it was going to burst through my chest. Was she planning on just killing me now? 

My anticipation ceased when she got up and brought back the camera with her again. “Hello BAU. There has been a change in plans. Your beloved,” The words reeked of sarcasm, “Y/N here, will be returned eventually. . She’s gonna be fine. However, it is now in everybody best interest if this video feed was cut out. Sorry.” She said before mouthing, “No I’m not.” She shut the camera off. 

She turned to me, “I hate you. Fucking despise you.” Figures. 

“But I would never hurt Spencer. Or his child. Even if it is being carried by a whore like you.” 

She began to pace once more, “You’re obviously a mistake on his part. You clearly tricked him with sex and...no just sex I think. You're not really smart enough to be capable of anything else. Regardless, he’s probably already thinking about abortions or adoption. There’s no way in hell a man like him could ever want to start a family with a girl like you.” She shook her head, “Absolutely not.” 

I could only nod my head at her delusions. This woman was so far up her ass. 

She pinched my cheeks together with her cold hands, “You tried to trap him. How’d that go for you?” 

I was silent.

“I asked you a fucking question!” She held my face impossibly tighter. 

“Poorly.” I got out, “Poorly.” 

“In 9 months, I’ll help you deliver your baby. And then, you can go.” Brook backed away and let go of her tight grip on my face. “I’m keeping the kid. Raising it.” She smiled, “I’ll be the mother Spencer’s child will deserve. And then-” A giggle creepily reminiscent of a schoolgirl’s left her throat, “He’ll love me!” 

Brooks intention had twisted from wanting to murder and torture me as revenge for “taking” Spencer, to a now twisted maternal desire for his (hypothetical) child. But if Spencer and his team couldn’t find me before the time I was supposed to be showing, I was fucked. Utterly fucked. 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Taglist: @britishspidey

(Let me know to be added)

[shurisneakers]

shut in [2]

Summary: When your high profile mission goes terribly wrong, you’re forced to hide in a safehouse with a man you’ve never met before. With seemingly nowhere else to go, you’re forced to work together to figure out who is trying to have you assassinated before it’s too late. (Sam Wilson x Gender Neutral Reader, Hitman AU)

Warnings: cursing, implied violence, drama kings, and stupid tv show references

Word count: 3.4k

A/N: ayeeee, we’re back for part two. i also appreciate feedback so if you would like to, please consider dropping me an ask or comment ly guys!! also if you want to be on the taglist, it’s mentioned at the bottom of the chapter.

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Shut In Masterlist

Hours were spent on the road in thick silence. 

The both of you had been driving around for a while now. You were a considerable distance away from the mansion and Pierce, but you didn’t dare to stop.

Initially you had only put the pedal to the metal without solid plan. Get the fuck away from there was the only objective you cared about. 

Hours later a signboard registered in your frantic thoughts. Familiarity struck a chord, and all of a sudden you had a vague idea of where you could go. You were unsure if it still existed, but it was a risk you were willing to take.

Darkness still coloured the sky, but the roads were deserted. No cameras along the highway was a welcomed feature. You eased your foot off the accelerator, carefully assessing the path you were taking for your exit. 

You saw a small clearing near the highway, taking a deep breath before pulling the car into a sharp turn off the road and into the woods.

“Where are you going?” your companion jolted up when the car swerved abruptly. 

You didn’t answer; just kept your eyes peeled for the structure. You didn’t have a backup plan if this didn’t go right.

It took much longer than you anticipated before you found it, pulling the car to a stop. You were deeper into the woods than you would have liked. 

You stuck your head out of the window to confirm you were at the right place. It looked like you were.

“Where the hell are we?”

“My summer vacation house,” you murmured, unbuckling your seatbelt. You stepped out of the car to assess the damage. .

Another door opening and closing told you that he had gotten out of the car as well. However, he trudged ahead, leaving you behind. 

The car was pretty beaten up. The metal gates hadn’t done it any favours.The question was whether it would still work if you needed it to.

Probably would, but not for too long.

You looked to the side to see where he went. He was standing in front of the house, arms crossed over his chest as he ran his eyes all over the building.

You trekked past him, walking up the two steps to the door. Pulling at what looked like a doorbell in any other scenario, you tugged off the outer shell to reveal a small scanner underneath.

You pressed your thumb to it, tapping your foot impatiently as it gave a beep of approval. The door gave a soft click. You let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding, twisting the handle to let yourself in. 

“You’re kidding right?” he asked incredulously from a distance behind you.

“Hey, man, stay outside if you want. Suit yourself.” You were sure he could fashion a bed out of leaves and twigs if he was that desperate.

Fumbling for the light switch, you sigh in relief when the room is illuminated.

“Whose safehouse is this?”

“Ransone’s.” You shrugged nonchalantly, moving ahead to inspect the place.

“I have every single one of his safehouses committed to memory.” His voice was becoming fainter as he planted his feet firmly at the doorway, refusing to move. “This ain’t one of them.”

“He’s sneaky. Once watched the next episode of Desperate Housewives without telling me.” The house wasn’t as dusty as you thought it would be, clearly being maintained once in a while although not regularly. “Broke my whole heart, he did.”

“Whose house is this?” he asked once again, tone hard as steel.

“Best that you don’t ask questions, buddy.” You looked at him wearily, a slo warning in itself, ending the conversation there. “Or else you’re welcome to leave.”

The entrance opened directly into what you assumed was the living room, or a sorry excuse for one. It had a couch facing an old cable television set, mounted on a small cupboard.

In the same space was the kitchen, with a microwave, a sink, and shelves lining the wall. A small mini fridge sat atop the counter.  There was a dining table with six chairs for a family, almost like a sick joke. You found yourself letting out a short exhale at it, moving onto the next room.

It was bare except for a shelf pressed against a well. Opening it, you found yourself looking at multitudes of what looked like burner phones, microphones, cameras, some as small as a button. Regular security cameras and monitors to go with it, trackers, anything you needed was available in those four drawers.

You pocketed a burner cell to use for later, moving to the room on the opposite side of the hall.

However, unlike the rest of the rooms you had seen so far, this one was empty. Not even a shelf decorating it.

The next door you opened was a bathroom, the final being a bedroom with one bed in the centre pushed up against the wall. A wardrobe in the corner contained numerous t-shirts of black and grey of every size, tactical pants and other necessary items of clothing.

You eyed the last door at the end of the hall before finally deciding to pursue it.

It opened to the patio in the back, two steps leading down from the house into the wooded area. Pillars held up the corners of the roof. It all looked picturesque, meant to blend in as a normal house.

You stood there for a second, taking in the silence around you. Nothing could be heard for miles, so if something were to happen-

You shook your head, forcing your imagination to stop running wild. You shut the door behind you, steadily making your way back to where the guy was.

It appeared that he had caved. He had moved from the doorway, instead taking a seat on one of the dining chairs. He was observing you, eyes keen as you took a seat opposite to him.

Dropping the burner phone on the table, you looked at him expectantly. Silence ensued until it dawned on him what you were implying. 

“I’m not calling him,” the guy said, leaning on his palm. Coward. 

“Fine.” You pulled it back, snapping it open to dial the number.

You let it ring all the way until the very last second.

“Hello?” the low voice resonated from the other end.

“Ransone.” You rolled your eyes at his tone, somehow letting your exhaustion tear down any kind of filter you usually had while in conversation with him. 

“Y/N?” His voice jumped two octaves higher to his usual pitch, dropping the facade immediately. 

“Did you set us up?” You ignored the small glance you got from the guy at your name.

“What?”

“Did you set us up?” you repeated brazenly.

“What?”

“Oh, cut the shit Ransone, was this a trap?” The guy next to you exploded impatiently.

“Wilson?” Great. A name to the face.

“Answer the fuckin’ question, Vincent.” The mention of Ranone’s first name had you surprised. No one dared to call him that.

“No, Sam,” came his response almost mockingly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Sam Wilson. It sounded familiar. You’d heard it tossed around a few times at the organisation.

“Why were both of us on the same assignment?”

“I told you, I wasn’t sure if Wilson was going to show up.” You could hear his chair faintly creak in the background. “This was his mission first.”

“The hell is that supposed to mean?” you interjected. Faint memories of a passing comment he made during your briefing were beginning to surface. 

“It means,” Ransone emphasised. “I called him first. He was being a bit… difficult. So I sent you as a backup.”

You looked at Sam. He dismissed you with a wave of his hand, as if to say to ignore what he was saying.

“And you didn’t think it was important to tell me that you were sending someone else?” If Ransone had told you, he should have mentioned it to him too.

“Oh, grow up.” Ransone sounded irritated, a tone that he seemed to reserve for Sam specifically. “You’re not children anymore. You can handle a few miscommunications.”

“Bullshit. You and I both know this isn’t an accident,” Sam retorted, dangerously good at not giving a shit. 

“You better watch yourself, agent.” Ransone snarled. “I don’t like being questioned.”

“Like I give a shit about what you like or not. We were outnumbered 8 to 2. You tellin’ me you had nothing to do with this? That the stars just aligned to royally fuck with us?”

“Yes, I waited until Mercury was in retrograde to plan this hit,” he drawled sarcastically. “Don’t you for a second forget what you owe me, Wilson. You’d be stupid to believe I’d let it go so easily by having you killed.”

His voice was ice by the end. Sam’s eyebrow furrowed as he leaned back, crossing his arm over his chest.

“Then what about me?”

“Y/N,” he sighed, instantly sounding softer. “I didn’t think he would show. That’s it.”

“You’ve never been unsure of anything.”

“Which is why I sent you in. Pierce had to die one way or the other. Don’t care how.” It wasn’t what you were talking about, but it brought up something else. 

You looked at Sam. Should you tell him that Pierce was dead before you got there?

You decided against it, not knowing what his reaction would be and too tired to gauge it over the phone. If someone else had gotten to Pierce before you, it meant that Ransone didn’t get a chance to deliver a dramatic end to his life, which would tick him off endlessly. 

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” Sam broke the momentary pause.

“You don’t.” He paused. “Distrusting me is the wisest thing you could do.”

You scoffed at his stupid Game of Thrones quote. How he was this obnoxious at a time like this was beyond comprehension. 

“Give me your location.” He couldn’t sound less interested, like a parent forced to pick up their child. “I’ll send someone to come pick you up.”

Sam’s finger tapped at the table, drawing your attention to him.

He slowly shook his head, mentioning to his ear then drawing his finger in a circle indicating his surroundings.

Disclosing confidential information over the phone wasn’t the wisest idea. You had no idea if anyone was tapping into Ransone’s calls, listening for sensitive information. For all you knew that’s how they got to the mansion before you. 

“Forget it. We’ll figure it out,” you told Ransone, eyes still locked on Sam.

“All right, stay low for a while. Keep me updated.”

You cut the call without another word, removing the battery and tossing the phone onto the table.

“What now?”

Neither of you said anything for a while. The silence rested uncomfortably between you as you stewed over what to bring up. 

“Did you kill Pierce?”

“Christ, we still on this?” he scoffed.

“It’s a yes or no question.” 

“No,” he stared at you. “I didn’t.”

“Did Ransone send you to spy on me?” It wouldn’t be the first time it had happened, although you thought he had moved past the need for that years ago. 

“No, I was there for a mission.”

“You got any proof?”

He rolled his eyes. “Scout’s honour.”

He lifted his hand up in a mock-salute. A wince flashed across his face; barely, but enough for you to catch it. His arm dropped back down again.

You examined him silently, searching for any hint of a lie or bluff. You found nothing, only an adamant set of eyes staring right back at you.

Your chair creaked as you pushed yourself away from the table. You could feel his gaze following you as you walked down the hall to the bathroom. Shuffling through the shelves for something you were sure was there, you soon stepped back out.

You had no idea why you were doing this. You didn’t even know the guy.

He had his sleeve pulled up to his shoulder, examining the wound from the bullet graze. Dried blood streaked his forearm, partially covering his tattoo.

You tossed the first aid kit onto the table, watching it slide across to where he was sitting. Sam glanced at the box, then up at you.

You just turned around silently, walking back down the hall and towards the bedroom, shutting the door behind you.

__________

Sleep didn’t come that night, and predictably so.

Whether it was the survival instinct guarding you from the stranger in the house, the adrenaline from the mission or even the anxiety of not knowing what exactly was going on, you were sure that you didn’t catch even a bit of shut eye.

Morning came around after what seemed like days rather than hours. You still stayed in bed well past the sunrise, pulling at the hem of your pillow. Your knife was still strapped to your thigh and your gun found a place on the nightstand, just in case.

When you heard the opening and shut of cabinets down the hall, you finally pulled yourself up, stretching to get rid of the weariness in your muscles. You decided against the gun but left the knife strapped to your thigh as you shifted off the bed.

You paused at the doorway, hand on the knob. Shoving aside your hesitation, you opened the door quietly. You could handle it, easily.

Walking towards the kitchen, the volume of his ruffling and filing through the kitchen only became louder. You stopped at the entrance, watching as Sam slammed a cabinet door shut.

“C’mon man,” he groaned before turning around to lean his body weight against the counter. There was a small bump under the sleeve of his arm, different from the curve of his muscle. You assumed he had bandaged the bullet graze the night before.

He was still wearing the same thing as yesterday. Dust was slightly settled on his shirt and one knee of his pants was ripped slightly.

“Mornin’.” You quickly looked back up at him, not realising when he had seen you. “Get any sleep last night?”

You wordlessly shook your head and he shrugged in understanding. 

“Did you?”

“Oh yeah. Out like a light.” He pushed himself off the counter.

“Really?” You watched as he pulled out a chair for himself, taking a place at the dining table, same place he was sitting the night before.

“Sounded like the reasonable thing to do.” He had an unnatural amount of faith in the fact that you wouldn’t murder him. Although you couldn’t judge if he was simply putting on a show, having stayed awake just as you had. 

“I'm stuck in a safehouse with a stranger, forgive me for being a little careful,” you muttered defensively, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Hey, never said you were wrong.” He lifted his hands up. “But just to make sure; are you going to kill me?”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “No?”

“And I’m not going to kill you. I’d say that’s enough reassurance to get at least a nap in.”

“Give me one good reason to believe you.”

“If you killed me, Ransone would blow the roof of this place with you still in it. I’m one of the best he’s got.”

“Bullshit.” You scoffed, walking around the table to go see what you could find to eat. Ransone wouldn’t do that for anyone, and he knew that.

He didn’t bother responding but you could sense him tracking your movement.

The first cabinet you opened consisted purely of jars of peanut butter, stacked together neatly. The one beside it had jelly arranged in a similar fashion, jar to jar and taking up the entire space. Adjacent cupboard had loaves of bread, probably the most you’d seen together in a house ever.

The next cupboard was... empty.

“You have got to be fuckin’ with me,” you cursed under your breath. “Is there nothing else here?”

Save for a few plates and cutlery, every other shelf was empty. Your frustration only grew with each drawer you opened and shut, finding nothing but the same three components over and over again.

“There’s some soup on the top right, behind the bread.” His voice came from behind you. You checked where he mentioned, finding multiple cans of tomato soup. “I hope PB&J is your favourite, ‘cause that’s really all we got. I checked twice.”

“We won’t be here long anyway. It’s fine.” You walked a few steps towards where the TV was, sitting atop a small cupboard. If you weren’t getting gourmet meals, hopefully it would be compensated with some entertainment.

Rummaging through it didn’t prove to be a major hassle since there were only three DVDs; Die Hard, Notting Hill and Megamind. Beside it sat two books, American Gods, and Pride and Prejudice. That’s all. 

“Really made sure to cover all demographics with those movies. There’s only one local news channel, everything else is static,” Sam informed you, unmoving from his position. You sighed, tossing the DVDs back and shutting the door.

“There’s a room over there with some basic shit. Burners, mics, cameras. Clothes are in the bedroom drawer. Should probably take a shower while you’re at it, I can smell you from a mile away and it’s giving me a migraine.” You pushed yourself off the ground, pointing towards the rooms as you walked down the hall. “Backyard’s all heavily wooded. If we try hard enough, I’m sure there are a few trap doors or crawl spaces or whatever around here.”

You could hear him follow you as you gave him the tour of a place you were sure he already had examined thoroughly before you greeted him this morning.

Pushing open the door to the suspiciously empty room, you stepped to the side, allowing him to observe. The both of you had the same thought process as you split up, sticking close to the walls, running your fingers across the plaster to look for any major differences.

“Got it,” he called out. You spun on your heel to face where he was standing. A small chunk of the wall was missing, a small button in the centre of the cavity he had created.

Pressing it lightly, the mechanical sound of sliding doors filled the air as the entire side of the room gave way to shelves upon shelves of weapons. Guns, knives, ammunition, bulletproof vests; enough material to last you years.

The doors slid shut when you pressed the button again, not until you had a mental note of what was available in case you found yourself in a situation where you required them.

“That about covers it. Don’t think we’ll be here long so just think of it as your three day long staycation.”

“I’ve had a better time at funerals than I’ll ever have in this shithole.”

________

“What do you mean they escaped?” Their voice was booming, dripping with slow rising anger. “Someone explain to me how the fuck that’s possible.”

“They took the car and left.”

“They took the car and left,” they said mockingly in a high pitch. “I know that, you fucking imbecile. I’m asking how they were alive long enough to do it?”

“They teamed up. Took out nearly everyone,” the agent was monotone. His arm was in a sling and his partner stood beside him, thick bandages around his midsection.

“They shouldn’t have been there together. They shouldn’t have been sent together.”

No one said a word, not even daring to breathe loudly.

“This wasn’t supposed to fucking happen. We killed Pierce. Everything was perfect,” their voice dropped as they spat out the last word. “So then how did this fucking happen?”

“Boss, we’ll-”

“I want them dead.” They interrupted, casting silence in the room. “I don’t care how you fucking do it. I want you to find them and rip them to shreds. Both of them.”

“Yes, boss.”

“And if you even fucking think of coming back without a proper update-” they brought their hand down harshly on the table. “-I’ll make you wish you were never born.”

The agents just nodded, faces pale as they shuffled out of the room silently.

“Fucking idiots.” They nursed their forehead on their palm, calming the nerve that was menacingly visible on their temple. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Part 3

[ficsandbits]

Exhaustion makes a great Cupid.

Hey guys! BNHA has taken over my life recently so have some Aizawa fluff to help relieve my mind of it. I'll also be posting over on my AO3 here : > https://archiveofourown.org/works/28061130

Y/N is written as G/N (Gender Neutral) 

Word count: 2,099

Like always, comments and feedback are always welcome and greatly appreciated! If you have any requests don’t hesitate to ask! 

Enjoy! xoxo✌🏻💕🌻

Y/N was tired. So bone tired they could barely bring themselves to open their eyes to see who was calling. A week filled with night patrols and paperwork stopping any chance of sleeping in the day were starting to take a toll on their body. They rolled over and hit the answer button, putting the call straight on speaker.

"Hello?" Y/N's voice croaked out, the signs of just waking up still coating their voice.

"Y/N? You okay? You don't sound too good." Aizawa's cool tone rang through the bedroom. At their hum his concern grew. "Do you need me to bring you anything? I have a bit of time before class starts."

"No no." They stretched glancing at the clock. Y/N held back a groan noticing they'd only been home a couple of hours. "I'm okay. Just overworked. What's up?" It was rare for Aizawa to call first, especially on a school day.

"I was wondering if you could come and help me with some hero classes today? I think it'd be good for the kids to go up against someone with your quirk type." The concern from before had dropped but not disappeared. "It's fine if you're busy, we can fit it around your schedule."

"You're in luck, I have the day cleared." Y/N sat up and cracked their back, letting out a satisfied sigh. "What time do you want me?"

They heard Aizawa clear his throat on the other end of the line before he responded. "Around 11 would be perfect. Thank you for your help, I'll see you later." He hung up after the quick conversation, leaving Y/N to double take at the time.

They huffed, working out that there would be about 4 hours to get ready and make the trek to UA. Luckily they had an old hero costume hanging around somewhere, the current one not being in top form after last night. Y/N really would never understand how simple night patrols turned so ugly so quickly. They dragged their tired body out of bed, choosing to run a bath rather than shower hoping it would soothe their aching muscles. Y/N didn't trust themselves to leave on time and set an alarm on their phone for when they had to leave.

What Y/N hadn't anticipated was falling asleep in the bath and having to rush around just to make it out in time. Their drooping eyes and growling stomach made them extremely aware that they were lacking in both sleep and food. Y/N shot off a quick text to Aizawa letting him know that they were on the way, even though he was probably busy.

Y/N had first met Aizawa in high school, the two of them keeping their distance and not really getting to know each other. It wasn't until their later years that they had gotten close, soon becoming each other's close confidant. Aizawa's best friend was quite the competition but there was clearly a difference in the relationships. Y/N adored the loud man, finding him a hilarious comparison to Aizawa's calm and placid nature. They envied their friendship, always sharply reminded of their own friend, who had left to become a hero in a different area. Y/N spotted a group of children sporting hero merch and smiled gently, their eyes drifting shut for a brief moment before the train announcer called out for the stop. As Y/N stood the world tilted slightly and they quickly grabbed onto the nearest pole. An older lady placed a concerned hand on their arm, asking if they needed to sit back down. Y/N waved away the lady's kindness and got off as the doors opened, desperately hoping the dizziness was a one time thing. The walk to UA was more of a struggle than they had hoped, but they made it just in time.

Y/N phoned Aizawa to tell him to come and collect them. Y/N was in luck when he picked up and told them he'd be down to get them in a minute. They idled around preening for no real reason. Y/N found they wanted to look their best, it was the first time in a while that they'd be seeing each other in person and the thought gave them butterflies. Y/N took a deep breathe to calm their jittery nerves. They had been sure the crush they had on Aizawa was long over, yet here they stood with all the nervous excitement of a high school teenager. Y/N was snapped out of their thoughts by the man causing these feelings approaching them. They smiled brightly, their heart fluttering just seeing him in person.

"Long time no see! How long has it been now?" Y/N joined him as they walked back into school grounds. Aizawa clearly giving them a withering look. "Oh come on surely I don't look that bad." Y/N tried to joke earning a sharper glare from him.

He stopped, his arm coming out but not quite touching theirs. "How much sleep have you gotten in the past couple of weeks." Y/N turned to look at him fully, taking a quick note of the way his eyes softened so subtly. "And when was the last time you had a substantial meal. You look ready to drop are you sure you'll be okay in there today?" He got closer to them, peering closer at their sunken eyes. "I'm happy you said you'd come but I care more about your health than I do the lesson today." This time his hand came to rest on their arm, thumb stroking gently.

"I'm here now, I'll be okay." Y/N placed their hand over his giving it a gentle squeeze.

"I can change the lesson around, I won't put your health at risk." His eyes grew more stern the more Y/N protested.

"Shouta, I promise you I will be fine." Y/N removed his hand from their arm, holding it tightly in their own. "Besides you are the last person putting my health at risk." They mumbled the last part out bitterly.

There was clearly no love lost between Aizawa and the hero's association, so Y/N's bitter words were met with gentle acceptance. He caressed their knuckles one last time before letting go of their hand and continuing the walk. Y/N couldn't stop the smitten smile that formed on their face as they trailed behind him. They made light chatter on the way to the training grounds catching up on the many things they'd missed in the others life. Y/N showed off cool new scars they'd got and he sighed deeper at each one as their smile got wider. His concern was only growing the more they spoke but he couldn't express anything before they reached the training grounds.

He glared at his class waiting for them to calm down, not missing the way Y/N suppressed a smirk at the action. "Alright class we've got some active hero training. This is Y/H/N and she'll be helping us out with training today. If any of you want to spar just let us know and we'll arrange it, otherwise we'll be here to observe and help out." The class nodded and looked over to Y/N, all eyes scanning them.

"So this is what it's like being assessed by a bunch of children, it's scarier than I thought." Y/N leaned in to whisper into Aizawa's ear, enjoying the light chuckle he let out and downright loving the scent that wafted from him as he leaned close to whisper back to them.

"They're a bunch of scary kids, no wonder you're worried." He turned to his class stone faced, raising one scruffy eyebrow. "Well are you waiting for an invitation, get to it." He dismissed the class sternly, watching them scatter quickly.

Y/N walked around, occasionally stopping to critique or praise a students form. They were stopped by one student hoping to expand his knowledge on different quirks and how his would be useful against them. Y/N couldn't say no despite the pounding headache and almost constant dizziness. The two moved to a more open space in the grounds and got into position to start their fight. Before they could even begin Y/N's vision suddenly swayed and they became vaguely aware of the feeling of falling but blacked out before they could process it.

"Uh... Mr Aizawa! There's, um, Y/H/N's fainted." The young boy shouted out across the room to his teacher, confusion clear in his voice.

Aizawa turned, a frown plastered on his face wondering what he was talking about only to see Y/N lying on the floor with students stopping what they were doing to gather round. Panic clutched at his heart for a second before he began to make his way over to the scene. He moved quickly, hyper aware of the fact the floor was solid concrete and that Y/N went down with no support, the last thing he needed was them gaining a serious head injury whilst helping him out. When he reached them the first thing he did was check for any injuries, letting out a breathe when he found none.

"Take the class back to homeroom today's session is finished. You can use the time to study for your upcoming exams." He instructed the class lead whilst scooping Y/N up. "I'm going to take them to recovery girl to check for injuries. I should be back soon." He quickly left with Y/N, heading directly to the infirmary.

Y/N groaned as they came around, confused by the surroundings. They felt a weight shift on their side and turned to find Aizawa sat on the bed, hand coming to brush their hair back. Y/N sighed at the sensation their lips turning up into a smile. "Now this is a nice dream." Y/N croaked out.

Aizawa snorted at them, his hand coming to rest on their cheek. "It's not a dream Y/N, you fainted in the training grounds." Y/N's eyes snapped open as they struggled to sit up. Aizawa moved his hand to rest on their shoulder, pushing them firmly back down. "Oh I don't think so, you're in the infirmary and have been out for hours. Rest." His firm voice made Y/N sink back down into the bed.

"Hours? How hard did I go down?" Y/N rubbed at their temples, a dull ache working its way back into their head.

"Recovery girl said you had no outward injuries but were just too exhausted to wake up right away. We let you sleep it off." Aizawa's thumb started it's usual comforting circular motion on their shoulder. "I told you we could rearrange." He sighed, his grip tightening and his eyes closing.

"I honestly thought I'd be fine." They looked up at him noticing his strained jaw and screwed shut eyes. "I didn't mean to make you worry," Y/N reached a hand up to massage gently at his jaw. "I'm sorry."

Aizawa let out a long suffering sigh and leaned forward planting an almost shy kiss onto their forehead. Y/N's eyes widened as their face got hot at the gesture. He lingered for a moment before lowering his forehead to their own, eyes opening to look deeply into theirs. "There's never a time when I'm not worrying about you idiot." He pulled back to give them a gentle smile. "Next time just tell me. Come on let's get you some food and a comfier bed." He grabbed their hands and gave a gentle tug bringing them to sit up.

Y/N stood shakily, Aizawa there to take their arm and help them walk out. "I should get a taxi and just face the ridiculous fare huh." They laughed lightly coming to stand on their own, Aizawa not letting go of their hand.

"Don't be stupid. You're staying with me tonight." Aizawa stated as a matter of fact, smirking at the way Y/N blushed and tried to stutter out an excuse. "No excuses, your in no fit state to be making the trip back." He threw a look over his shoulder towards them as they trailed along shocked. "Besides I don't want to leave you alone right now."

Y/N moved closer, planting a chaste kiss to his cheek. "Thank you Shouta." He smiled and kept them close to him as they walked to his place.

[actual-fucking-clown]

Take your time then.

Aizawa x gender neutral reader

Story under the cut :)

Unedited but like edited but still not properly edited :)

Hope you enjoy!!!

a/n: it’s been a hot min since I’ve written a fic. I think the last time i was 14 and it was shit and on wattpad. Ha. I hate myself. N e way, I was recently writing some shit for an au me and my friend thought up and in the back of my mind I was like, “you should start writing fics again bc this is kinda fun”, soo lo and behold I made a post asking if anyone would be interested, shared a little too much personal shit in it but whatever, and have now decided to write this mother fucker. (3/25/21)

a/n: not sure if anyone will care about this series of a/n’s but I’m just chronicling thoughts ig. rewriting rn bc my first draft was short and ass. Also I’m thinking about opening requests after this is posted, will go into detail in a diff post maybe. (3/28/21)

a/n: deleted everything, rewriting. I just want to make something that might be decent and if I can give that feeling, y’know those chills you get when you read something utterly gorgeous, but I’m bad at writing. sadge (3/28/21, like several hours later)

a/n: ugh (4/1/21)

a/n: ugh pt 2 electric boogaloo. I can’t seem to move forward with the writing. I realized something like this might happen bc to solve a problem feelings need to be discussed and I fucking hate doing that so you can see where I’m fucking up lmaooooo (4/2/21)

a/n: I read angst to fuel my writing brain. So, read some angst, finally writing agian. This first section is probs as long as the story itself LMFAO(4/5/21)

Started: (3/25/21) Finished: (4/5/21)

Warnings: uh angst, curse words, like a lot, (i saw someone else put this as a warning, do I actually need it?), avoiding problems instead of actually facing them, mentions of shit so-so parenting, mentions of not being able to live up to high expectations, y’know, the works

Synopsis: Aizawa takes in Eri without running it by you first and expects you to be okay with it. That’s funny. He was wrong.

Can I preface this with a thought? I’m going to anyway,

all the fics I read paint him as the sweetest partner and I’m sure he is but I think they miss out on how blunt he is and his whole “Mr. Rationality” thing. So as much as I adore him I think there are situations that he’d be a bit more colder towards, a bit more straightforward about. Maybe even like a bit insensitive about but maybe bc he doesn’t have the full picture or something. so I guess this is another warning but aizawa is a little insensitive in the beginning (but like not really but kinda. it’s complicated)

~

Rain pattered softly against the window. The smell of some old random Bath and Bodyworks candle you’d dug out from a box you’d never bothered to unpack smothered the room. Some Netflix show idly played on a low volume on your computer, you’d lost interest in watching tv awhile ago. You needed a break. After the eventful month you’d been having you really needed this. 

Now of course your whole year so far had been eventful. What with all the villain attacks on you and Shouta’s class and the kidnapping of one of your students, to just dealing with the more mundane problems with your students. No. You had no problem with that. The villains, although not easy, were something you were trained to handle. The smaller problems with your students weren’t arduous either, after all you weren’t too much older than them. 

When reflecting on your situation, from and outside perspective it could be seen as the straw the broke the camels back, which sure, makes sense. After all, you’re bound to be stressed out by everything else, so why would this seemingly insignificant thing weigh heavier than a villain attack? Well if that is the situation why does this single straw feel like it weighs a ton? This is not that. This is not culmination of the events of this year draining the life from you. This is something entirely different. A panic inducing life change that completely took you by surprise mixed with your inability to actually face your problems. 

You don’t blame them. You can’t. They’ve done nothing wrong. A child. A small, probably mentally scarred child is your problem. Well not her personally but the fear taking care of her instills in you. Despite working in the field that you do, you cannot for the life of you handle actual children. Sure you’re a little awkward with your class but at least they’re young adults and (vaguely) mature and independent to a certain extent. The fact that your long term boyfriend just came back one day, small child in tow and said “Hey I’ve gotta look after this one now” not verbatim obviously, for a lack of better words, fucked you up. He basically solo adopted a kid and, let’s be honest, he probably expected you to help out. But how could you? How could this man look at you and think “I want this person to help me raise an already fucked up child?” Ok sure, he doesn’t at first give off the “I’m totally father figure material” vibe but in the end he is extremely competent. You on the other hand, not so much.

You’d never been good with children. Tried your best to steer clear of them. Didn’t matter the place, didn’t matter who’s kid, you couldn’t handle them. You would just stand there, awkwardly, not entirely sure of what to do and petrified that there was the possibility of making some mistake which would upset the child and then oh wow look, your head got chopped right of your shoulders. That’s hyperbole of course but it does sum up the insurmountable fear that overcomes you whenever you have to deal with a child. So considering the fact that your long term boyfriend had suddenly decided to adopt and not at least warn you, didn’t sit right with you.

So, the best and most obvious choice, was to avoid your problem. Avoid Shouta, avoid Eri. Avoid the mention of them and you, avoid it all. And honestly you’d done pretty well so far. You were able to have as little contact with them as possible considering the close proximity of your living quarters in the teacher’s dorms. After all they were legally supposed to give you two separate rooms but you never actually used yours, well until now. You were living it up honestly. Did you feel awful? Of course. He is your boyfriend after all and you were sure Eri doesn’t deserve your cold shoulder but this is probably for the best. What could you offer her? You weren’t sure that you were a good role model for her or anyone for that matter. What did you know about raising kids? it’s not like you had parents to set a proper example for you. Of course they might have shown you what not to do but where do you go from there? Is shit like that really avoidable? You don’t want to be like them. You strive to be better but what if you can’t be. There’s also the added bonus of the fact that raising a kid seems taxing on a relationship. Now matter how strong you were sure that the stress of a kid could break a relationship down that then festers into something toxic and unrecognizable. You didn’t want that. God you couldn’t let that happen. No. This was definitely for the better.

Of course Aizawa didn’t feel the same. He was confused on why his partner had been so blatantly avoiding him. Did he do something wrong? He doesn’t remember doing anything that might’ve upset you. So why now? Why pull away now? He had to get down to the bottom of this but catching you was the hard part. You had been taking on more work, offering more assistance to the other teachers, picking up extra patrols, doing everything and anything to stay away from Shouta. It took him a month but he finally caught up to you. You were tired, worn out he knew that. Instead of loading yourself with work you’d decided to hole yourself up in your room. It was now or never.

You were pulled out of your peace at the sound of a few gentle knocks to your door. You really didn’t want to get it. You honestly couldn’t be bothered. 

“(N/n)? Are you in there?” He hadn’t gotten it wrong right? He hadn’t been too distracted earlier and missed you leaving right?

“What’s up?” You hummed from your place by the window, not bothering to actually open the door.

“Can I come in?” Shouta asked, voice soft. You could barely hear him above the patter of the rain and the low humming of your laptop.

“Uh, no, kinda busy. Got loads of work to do. Need to focus, sorry. Maybe later?” You hesitantly spoke. Not sure if you were convincing enough. 

Apparently you weren’t.

He sighed. “It’s been “later” for an entire month. Please (Y/n) just let me in. Whatever this is we can talk it out.” You had predicted that eventually Shouta would start to try to crack down on whatever the issue was but you didn’t expect it so soon. 

“Uh...no?” You tried, hoping that maybe he’d just give up but that wasn’t Shouta.

“No, you don’t get that option, now please, open the door.” Although it was still soft his voice had taken a more stern tone.

“Oh no I’m dead. I guess I can’t open the door. What a shame. I guess the only way to talk with me now is in the pits of hell.” You quipped, trying to lessen the tension that already ran thick.

“(Y/n).” Aizawa sighed.

“Jeez fine. Talk about pushy.” You quipped once more to no avail.

Opening the door you were met with, well exactly what you expected. He stood there, arms crossed, a stern yet gentle look in his eyes, his lips pulled into a slight frown. 

“Come in.” You mumbled as you stepped further into your room.

“So tell me. What’s wrong?” The sentence stirred so much. Of course you wanted to tell him. You wanted to spill your guts to the man you loved in hopes of comfort but you just can’t. You know you’ll just scare him off. You know you’ll make things worse.

So you stay silent.

He says nothing as he grabs your hands gently and leads you over to your bed. He sits the two of you down on the edge, muting the movie on the laptop sitting behind him.

“You know you can tell me if something’s bothering you right?” Shouta sent you a warm smile. 

You weren’t very comfortable with discussing your feelings sometimes, it mostly stemmed from the fact that you never really could discuss them with anyone growing up which made it harder to confide in anyone now, as at this point bottling things up was a habit. But this was also just something that you were sure that you couldn’t talk about.

Silence answered him once again.

Now he took sometime to think about his approach, think about what could’ve happened that made you pull away. What did he do that was different from his norm? He was genuinely stumped and the fact that you weren’t helping him confused him even more.

You decided to take this time to lament the situation too. What was he going to do? Should you actually tell him or play it off? If you play it off will he still insist that something is wrong? If you tell him will he leave you? If you don’t tell him will he leave you? You risked a glance at him, he was still deep in thought.

Why did you have to adopt this fucking kid without at least warning me?

“What?” Your head shot up at the sound of his shocked voice.

“What?” You asked, genuinely confused.

“Eri’s the problem...?” He spoke slowly, not entirely sure if he’d heard you right.

“Did I say that out loud?” You squeaked.

“I’m pretty sure you mumbled something along the lines of “why’d you have to adopt that fucking kid”.” Shouta said, unsure if he’d heard wrong. Wanting to have heard wrong.

“No no no no no no! It’s not like that! I mean it is like that but not like that!” You frantically waved your hands in hopes of defusing the situation.

The way he looked at you made you want to cry. You felt horrible. You felt like the biggest asshole in the world and, at this point you probably were. He looked at you with such a look of heartbreak and disappointment and confusion it made you sick to your stomach. You felt light-headed and started shaking. You were right. You were right. You were always right. God why did you have to be right! Why did you have to be like this? Scared of raising a fucking child! It was asinine and irrational and you could probably move past it  but thanks to your stupid fucking brain you just sealed your fate.

You scooted away from him still waving your hands frantically as no’s tumbled endlessly from your lips. You tried sputtering an apology, anything so that he wouldn’t look at you like that but nothing stuck. Nothing was comprehensible. Nothing worked. Nothing would work. Nothing will work. You were hopeless. It was hopeless. 

“If it isn’t like how it seems then tell it to me straight.” Shouta finally spoke up.

You took a second to come down from your panic. You steeled your nerves as much as possible before you spoke. 

“Um well, I have nothing against her it’s just that a little heads up would’ve been nice? I’m not all that great with kids so this is just kind of weird is all.” You were purposefully being vague in hopes that he’d understand what you meant and also maybe drop it.

“Not great with kids? You’re literally a teacher.” He pointed out.

“Yeah you know but she’s like a kid kid and let’s be honest I’m not too great with the students either.” You awkward laughed. So he wasn’t getting it.

“Wha-you’re fine with the students and I’m sure you’ll be fine with Eri, there was no reason to avoid me over this.” Shouta sighed. As good as he was with dealing with people, he was equally as shit. Or maybe it was just the fact that you gave him very little to work with. It was probably a bit of both. Still his dismissiveness was not helping you right now.

“No, no, no, no. I think I’ll stay here. Uh, good luck with your parenthood escapades and sorry to leave you high and dry like this but that’s going to have to be a no from me.” You rambled. He seemed to be getting a little tired of this.

“(Y/n) stop being irrational. She’s not even our kid I’m just looking after her for now. Why are you being difficult? I told you you were fine with the students and you’ll be fine with Eri, what else do you want to hear?” Shouta grumbled.

“Well uh I don’t know, uh...” You trailed off, this seemed to be going in a direction you really didn’t want it to go. A slight hostility settling in the air.

At your lack of a proper answer he clicked his tongue. He took a moment to reassess the situation. There had to be something he was missing. After all you were getting really worked up but if you weren’t going to talk to him there was nothing he could do. He shook his head before running a frustrated hand through his hair.

“(Y/n), please, please, just be honest with me. Whatever it is that’s bothering you, you can tell me. But I won’t be able to understand if you don’t.” Aizawa sighed, deciding that getting worked up about this was not the way to go, especially when you seemed to be especially distraught.

“Uh, god the thing is I don’t know entirely what to say to put the shitshow in my head into perspective.” You mumbled, trying desperately to figure out what to say that could clear the air but nothing seemed to be coherent enough.

“Take your time.” He decided that this was the best approach to things, making sure neither party got too worked up lest this turn into a fight.

The rain continued to patter softly against the window and your candle continued to burn an slightly off floral-ish scent.  A deafening silence hung in the air because even though he was being as patient as possible some of his frustration leaked through, it was bound to though so you couldn’t exactly blame him. After all, you were probably equally as frustrated with yourself too. 

“I’m just not good in a position like this. I’m not good with kids, especially someone like Eri who’s already so broken. You have that nurturing nature, it comes natural to you but I’m not on that level. I  don’t know the first thing about caring for a child let alone one as already traumatized as her. I’d fuck it up and only make things worse. I don’t want you to reassure me that I’ll be okay with her, I want you to understand that I’m not comfortable with this and that it might take me awhile to come around. I’m sure I sound like the biggest asshole ever but please understand that this just isn’t something I’m ready for.” You had rambled a bit, you were aware of that, but it was the only way that you could properly express your feelings without making things too complicated.

Aizawa said nothing. Trying to figure out how to go about things.

Was he upset? Yeah, you two, even after several long years of being together, hadn’t discussed moving forward in your relationship in depth. And if he’d tried you seemed content with the point you two were at so he left it be, no reason to try and move forward when what you had was already fine the way it was. But recently he’d been craving more. Some mornings, when he’d be the first to wake, he’d study your features in the soft light of the sunrise and wonder what it’d be like to properly settle down with you. Get married, start a family, all that jazz. He’d taken in Eri only because it was the most rational decision. His quirk would be good for quelling hers had it ever gotten out of hand. But it also seemed to quell his musings of something more with you. He had imagined you being a good parental figure for the little girl and it made his heart flutter and his stomach explode with butterflies. But now seeing that that wasn’t what you wanted and how you weren’t ready for it, it stung. But in the end, he loved you. He’d easily give his life for you. So, if that meant waiting he’d wait. He’d wait a million years if he had to. He could do it.

Once again he spoke,

“Take your time then. I can wait.”

Tagslist?: @captainchrisstan (I think you said you wanted to be tagged but I’m also just small brained lol If u didn’t want to and I misinterpreted things just let me know :) )

[uselessidiotsquad]

OC INTERVIEW: Glanaim

INTRODUCTION

Can you introduce yourself?

- Glanaim. Official unofficial hired hit-man for people too heroic and fancy to get their names scuffed.

What is your gender identity, orientation and relationship status?

- Gender? Male, for the most part. I don’t see why others tend to fixate on these things. As for the rest, I’m interested in other ‘men’ (there’s loose air quotes around it). And unfortunately, tragically, single.

Where and when were you born?

- I mean, technically it was in the Grove, but my pod was very near the entrance to Caledon, so I’d like to say I wasn’t born in the Grove. (he pauses) By like, four feet. It adds flair to things. Oh and a Noonbloom. If that’s of interest.

What is your weapon of choice and fighting style?

- Guns. Rifles, if I’m allowed to pick. I can use daggers but they aren’t my favorite. Too messy.

Lastly, are you happy?

- (he sighs and rubs at the back of his neck) Not particularly. I mean, I shouldn’t complain ...but that’s absolutely not going to stop me from anyway. I’m tired of being a hired assassin. I’d like to do (he gestures vaguely) something. Something hopefully not involving murder.

FAMILY AND FRIENDS

What’s your family like? What is your relationship with them?

- I don’t have much in the way of family, unfortunately. I do envy those of us who have podtwins, it seems like it would be nice to have a connection without having to do small talk. (he makes a frown at the phrase). It’s just me, myself, and I at the moment.

Have you ever ran away from home? 

- I haven’t.

Would you consider marriage or having children? 

- Sylvari don’t typically engage in the whole ceremony of it, we don’t usually see the need. That being said, the idea of it is awfully romantic. Perhaps ones day, if I find someone.

Do you secretly hate one of your friends?

- If I hated them why would I be friends with them in the first place? Seems a bit silly.

Which friend knows everything about you? 

- None of them, I’m afraid. Part of being a rather vague figure cleaning up others messes means you don’t get too close. Which is a shame, I’m a delight. (he chuckles, amused)

ASKED BY FANS  

Are you literate? Have you been to school?

- I got most of my knowledge from the Dream. I do read a lot, so that counts for something I guess.

The eeriest prediction you made that later came true?

- I don’t do predictions about things but I do get a lot of gut feelings, usually for assessing a mark or their environment.

What is something you were embarrassingly late to realize?

- (he sighs and throws his hands in the air) That I guess it’s too much for me to ask for the perfect person to fall in my lap and already be madly in love with me. You actually have to go out and talk to people, according to theory. I’m still crossing my fingers for the first option though.

Do you have mental health or physical issues?

- Headaches, eyestrain, occasional stiffness from holding target for too long.

What is your current main goal?

- Save up enough money to be able to quit doing this and then take my time to find something that I enjoy.

CHOICES:

Drink or food?

- Do I have to pick one? Both are sort of essential. Drink then.

Cats or dogs? 

- ...dogs? (he says cautiously, like even he’s not really sure of it)

Early bird or night owl? 

- I don’t know what you’d call someone who wakes up at noon regularly, but that, whatever it is.

Optimist or pessimist? 

- Realist. I am sometimes too practical for my own good and end up ruining things that are supposed to be fun.

Sassy or sarcastic? 

- Sarcasm is my native language.

HAVE YOU EVER:

Been caught sneaking out

-No. Doesn’t mean I haven’t, just means they didn’t catch me.

Broke a bone

- Yes, it’s not pleasant.

Received flowers

- Alas, no.

Ghosted someone

- (he looks visibly uncomfortably) I... may have.

Pretended to laugh at a joke you didn’t get

- Not really. Though it is fun to ask them to explain why something is funny and watch them squirm a bit if the joke is in poor tastes. Though this may be why I don’t have many friends.

[lovelivingmydreams]

Paper Flowers: the final count down

Roman and Virgil have a fight as the end of their character’s time on Vine draws nearer every day.

You are giggling as you finish reading a PrincexNemesis fanfic on AO3.

It was a great story about Nemesis, named Marcus/Marcia in the story, was cursed at a young age to switch gender every time the sun passed the horizon. Leading to the poor kid being Marcia by day, the Prince’s bethroted whom he could not stand, and Marcus by night, the Prince’s sworn enemy who he was madly in love with. It was mainly a very funny story and the author left it very vague which gender Nemesis was born with. All they said was that Nemesis would be stuck with the gender they were when the received their first kiss. Which was given to them as Marcus. The tension came from whether Nemesis would be able to avoid getting stuck as Marcia on the wedding day, as he preferred Marcus.

It was very funny, but also surprisingly deep. Or maybe you are reading too much into it.

Just when you pressed ‘post’ on your comment you get an alert.

It’s vine time!

The video opens up and you see Prince pushing of an enemy and stabbing him.

You can hear a cheer and the camera turns to dad. “That’s my boy!” he cheers.

Prince kisses a maidens hand. Once more a shout is heard and you see dad. “Great job buddy!”

Prince polishes his sword, yet another shout. “Just look at you!” dad squeals from the doorway.

Prince looks up exasperated. “Can you not!?” Dad looks sheepishly and slowly glides out of view.

You wipe away a tear as you let your laughter subside. Everyone who’s been to any game or play ever has seen one of those parents.

You’ve seen people on tumblr who have jumped on this ‘the characters all live in the same kingdom’ concept and ran with it. It was a fun world they’d created. Teacher was the Prince’s tutor. Nemesis had several potential backstories, from the son of a nobleman to an orphan servant in the castle. Prince was, obviously, heir to the throne. And dad was either a nanny to the prince and other children in court, or father to the Prince or the nemesis. It made for some fun imagined shenanigans, that was for sure.

You are curious though, what will come next.

...

“No.”

Roman groaned in annoyance. “Anxiety, I don’t need your cooperation to propose a skit idea to Thomas,” he reminded him. He didn’t, he’d never asked before they became friends. But they’d been doing so well on communicating since. What, one might ask, made Roman dismiss Virgil’s input now?

A couple of bad nights, for starters. The fact that they’d been having this argument in front of Patton and Logan for the past half hour, meaning he had to keep up pretenses. And lastly, Virgil was just being difficult on purpose it seemed.

All Roman wanted was to have a nice final skit between their characters before they moved to youtube. There still would be skits involving either of them, but he liked the thought of wrapping up the nemesis story line before starting the story of the prince of creativity and Anxiety on youtube.

Virgil, however, seemed unwilling to even entertain the idea of another Prince vs Nemesis skit entirely. Let alone one to wrap up the semi storyline they’d made.

“Then go ahead and do it. See if I care!” Virgil growled before storming off.

Roman let out a frustrated sigh and dropped in the couch. “Impossible! That man is simply impossible sometimes!” he complained loudly. He was angry with Virgil right now. He wasn’t even going to try to deny that. Virgil could be infuriating sometimes.

And he was going to complain and pout as long as he liked, thank you very much. He was not the unreasonable one in this scenario.

“Kiddo, Anxiety is just like that. You know that he has a tendency to disagree on principle.”

Roman huffed. He knew better. Virgil was not usually difficult for no reason. He was a safety measure of sorts. He made sure they all thought through every decision. Every action.

Often a little too much, but he meant it well.

It was rare that he gave Roman no room to argue. A straight up ‘no’, even before their alliance, was rare. There were arguments, objections, doubts. But ‘no’ was usually with very good reason.

Roman just could not phantom the reason right now though. Which was why he was so angry.

He had learned to manage patience when he could see the source of Virgil’s concern. But now?

“Actually Patton, usually when Anxiety disagrees with us, he has at least some form of reasoning behind it. Be it of an irrational sort. It is not often that he gives no form of motivation behind his outbursts. This would lead me to believe that he has reasons, he just does not wish to discuss them, or maybe even might not wish to acknowledge them to himself.”

Roman listened to Logan making perfect sense, as he tended to do. But he didn’t feel like really thinking about that. He was still upset with Virgil.

“Or maybe he is just in a rude mood,” Roman objected stubbornly.

Logan took in a deep breath. “As much as I dislike figuratively feeding your ego, Roman, I feel like the positive changes in his behavior over the last year might be largely due to you.”

Oh, now this was something Roman was willing to pause his sulking for.

He shot up and looked at Logan expectantly.

Logan looked like he regretted speaking to begin with. Luckily for Roman, Patton had gotten curious.

“What do you mean?” he asked. Roman thought there was a strange sting to Patton’s voice, but he must’ve been mistaken, surely.

“Roman… You have been different ever since you asked for your memories of interactions with Anxiety… What was it that you found in there?”

Oh, no. Damn him and his promises.

Roman shrugged, feigning losing interest. “He saved Thomas and his friend earlier that day, and he didn’t seem to consider that a big deal. So I got curious and looked back and found that most of what he said, like you mentioned could maybe be read as trying to help somehow.”

Roman prayed Logan wouldn’t ask more. Luckily he didn’t.

“I see. I assume that this new information led to you changing your approach to your communication with Anxiety and this led to him being less tense around you.

He let you convince him to interact with us, he made an effort to explain himself and collaborated more on your projects,” Logan deduced.

“Could it be that to Anxiety, the start of that positive change in his life is connected to the skits between your character and his?” he wondered.

Roman’s eyes widened. “What? So me ending that storyline feels like me rejecting him or something?” he asks a little incredulously.

Logan looked up in surprise. “Well… That is a possibility,” he nodded. Why was he so shocked Roman could figure stuff out on his own. He could be empathetic enough for this. He might be the ego but he was not that self-centered. Bonds with others was high on his priority list too.

“The poor kiddo feels like he’s all alone now,” Patton mused sadly.

Roman got up. He was not ready to feel bad for Virgil. Especially when he was being ridiculous. As if Roman would end their friendship like this. Did he think so little of him?

He stormed off to his room and landed himself on his bed.

He wasn’t in the wrong, it was not his job to apologize. He kept repeating that to himself but occasionally he wondered if Virgil was overthinking right now. Thinking that Roman hated him now…

No. He was not in the wrong, he got to be mad if he wanted to. Virgil got to be mad with him when he got lost in a monologue and got all kinds of ideas stuck in Thomas’ head without consulting anyone making Virgil feel like he had to be the bad guy for scaring Thomas away from the ideas he loved too much to let anyone else convince him to adjust them.

He’d swallowed his pride and apologized to Virgil then.

So he was going to be petty and stubborn for as long as…

There was a knock at his door. Roman shot up and walked over to his front door and opened it. There was no one to be seen. When he looked down though, he saw something that took his breath away.

He picked up the paper purple hyacinth and the accompanying note.

“I know you are mad. Please let me explain before you hate me forever? I’ll be waiting.”

Roman let out a sigh. Purple hyacinths represent sorrow and regret. And it must’ve been such a pain to get the paper to bend to his will like this.

Now Roman had to go and meet Virgil. He put the flower in the vase along with the rest of the assemble bouquet and hurriedly opened the door to the field.

“Virgil?” he called out before he even closed it.

The anxious man was pacing through the field, trampling a path in the ground.

Luckily the field fixed itself every time they left.

Virgil looked up and his shoulders relaxed. Clearly he saw Roman’s swift arrival as a good sign.

His anger already fading, Roman added the hyacinths to the field to show he’d gotten his apology gift and accepted it.

“I thought about what I said… Or didn’t say and… Maybe I was just… I didn’t want us to stop making skits together,” he rambled, playing with his hoodie sleeves and pointedly not looking at Roman.

Roman let out a sigh. Logan had been on the right path then.

“Virgil, you really think that I did not enjoy working on those with you?” he asked.

Virgil shrugged.

“Well I did. Therefore I will call upon your aid any chance I get. I actually expect you to assist me quite often in the creation of the sanders sides series and many other projects. I merely wanted to give the fanders a satisfying ending to the adventures of the prince and his nemesis on vine,” he explained calmly.

Virgil nodded. “Yeah… I’m sorry. Really I am. I was pretty rude to you and you did nothing to deserve it,” he said softly, glancing up at Roman nervously.

“You are forgiven, Grim Creeper,” Roman smiled reassuringly.

Then he got an idea. It would let him vent the last bits of frustration and Virgil could maybe work of some angsty energy as well. “If you really feel like you’ll miss the prince and the nemesis that much though…”

And just like that Roman summoned two swords, tossing one to Virgil who caught it in surprise.

“I shall teach you the art of the blade!” he declared.

Virgil rolled his eyes but smirked. “Let me have it Princey,” he challenged.

...

While the two younger sides sparred in the field, the fatherly side was headed to the stairs leading down in search of an anxious sides room. Hoping he’d be let in now.

“Patton?” Logan called.

Patton flinched at being spotted. Though he wasn’t sure why. Was it so bad that he tried to help Anxiety?

“Hya Logan!” Patton greeted sheepishly. “I was going to make sure Anxiety was okay…”

Logan cocked his head. “Patton, I’m obviously no expert, but if my interpretation of his thought process of today was correct, he feels rather vulnerable right now. While that might mean he’s more open to sharing and closeness, it also means he might be in a state of heightened alertness.

If you attempt to approach him now you could very well make things worse with small mistakes.”

Patton bit his lip. Logan was right. Anxiety was not in a right state of mind. If Patton wanted to him to let him in, then it couldn’t happen when he was feeling hurt and alone. No matter how badly Patton wanted to comfort him. Going in now would be for Patton’s sake. Not Anxiety’s.

“We will make our way back to him Patton. Who knows? Maybe Roman’s youtube project lends us a chance to interact with him more frequently,” Logan offered.

Patton nodded. They’d get there. Sooner or later they’d be a happy family.

He just had to be patient and let Anxiety decide when he felt ready to try again.

Intorducing the sides

@vixdoesbadart @vpow @apinkline2715 @tired-yeetling @firegirl156 @soysaucevictim @1nsomniacwriter @moonlightshow00 @naturallyunstablegamer @alias290 @meowthefluffy @frida0043 @angelic-cali @selenechris @theblackveilinreverse

[luvlyrv]

No More Secrets | Joy x Fem!Reader

Genre: fluff

Request: Can I please request where the reader is a single parent who is also dating sooyoung. Sooyoung doesn’t know that the reader has a kid, since reader has been hiding them because she felt like sooyoung would shame her or wouldn’t want to date her anymore. Sooyoung accidentally see’s the readers kid and instead of being angry, she just wants to be part of the family. Thank youu!

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: First request I've ever done! Thank you for sending this in, I hope it's what you wanted. Also hhh you'll probably notice but I decided to keep the child vague? Maybe you have a dream baby that you wanna parent idk, so I don't have a name or gender for them, hope you don't mind.

Date: 1/23/21

Over the past few years you've thrown yourself into your work. It was hard trying to provide for the needs of both you and your child at the same time, both in the physical and emotional sense. Whether or not you would be able to pay the bills was always a worry, and as you continued increasing your time at work you began to fret about if you were there for your kid at the same time.

The biggest struggle overall was toiling through those worries by yourself. As much as you tried to distract and provide for your family by working more and more overtime shifts, you couldn't ignore the growing emptiness in your heart and bed any further. Sure, you could reach out to friends and family to ask for help and be your support group, but they could never be what you desired right now. Right now you wished that someone was there holding you. That someone told you things would be okay and could love you in a romantic sense. Someone to completely swipe you off your feet and make your worries melt away.

Unfortunately it's been proven to you over and over again that it's hard to find a date. Very few people were your type, and from those people you weren't their type for the most part. Even if you matched you found yourself so busy working and taking care of your child that you were on a tight schedule, and your matches just never seemed to want to work with someone inflexible.

One day though, it felt like an absolute miracle when you got a match. A woman named Park Sooyoung had appeared on your feed. You read through her short biography, learning how she loves to sing and is an aspiring model and dog mom. Staring at her pictures you felt like she was out of your league. You couldn't tell what was worse, swiping no and missing out on a possible opportunity or swiping yes when you knew she was 100% out of your league and would likely reject you instantly.

It was a welcome surprise when you finally swiped yes, only to see a match screen pop up instantly on your phone. Soon after that the both of you began talking to each other. Your thumbs nervously tapping away at your phone as the both of you said your hellos and started giving more detailed introductions. The tightness in your chest eased up as every text sent by Sooyoung was charming you, all of them being disarming and funny to you.

Within the next couple of days you felt like you were glued to your phone. Without meaning to your hands would find its way cross the table or to your pocket just to pull out your phone and look for notifications from Sooyoung. Luckily for you it always felt like her name was on your screen with her patiently waiting for a text back.

Soon enough she asked for a coffee date. You obliged to her offer but told her your schedule, already profusely apologizing as you expected it to be difficult for her to work with. Sooyoung just said not to worry about it and set out a date that would be convenient for the both of you.

Every day after that was spent living in anticipation. You wondered about the sound of her voice and if things would be as easy and comfortable in real life as it was over text. As you dropped off your child at your friend's place to be watched over the evening your heart swelled even more. You really were going to meet Sooyoung.

*

*

You enter the coffee shop nervously, your eyes scanning the entire shop trying to look for a familiar face. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a tall figure gracefully sitting in a booth. Focusing on her face, she looked exactly like the woman you matched with. A smile fell on your face as you thanked the heavens that at least you weren't catfished. You make your way over to her booth and speak out.

"Hey, Sooyoung?" The woman looks up and smiles instantly looking at you.

"Hey! Really good to meet you, Y/N."

"Sorry, did I keep you waiting? How about I treat you coffee?" Sooyoung just shook her head at your offer.

"No no, I'll do the treating this time. Maybe on our next date?" She suggested casually. The smile on your face grew a little bit wider at the idea of a second date. The two of you go up to the counter and make your orders. When they were complete you both went back to your booth and sat down to talk.

The two of you casually talked while sipping away at your drinks. You were really happy, because you couldn't remember the last time your heart fluttered this much. You were thankful that spending time with your date felt so natural and comfortable. Hopefully Sooyoung would be thinking the same thing too.

*

*

It wasn't supposed to go like this. You were hoping that maybe by the second or third date you could bring up the fact that you're a mother. Every single date though you'd push back that conversation more. The two of you would be having so much fun together you didn't want to turn the atmosphere serious so suddenly. Either that or your anxieties and fears made their way back into your heart.

Yet here you were, already on your fifth date with Sooyoung's presence in your life becoming more and more familiar. The guilt of not telling her was silently eating away at you. Despite that, your fears still held your tongue.

After all, meeting someone like Sooyoung felt like a one in a million chance for you. If she broke it off with you now, you'd feel devastated from the loss. Not only that, but as much as you liked Sooyoung you weren't sure if your child was reader for an unfamiliar adult figure to enter their life. What if Sooyoung was secretly dangerous? You could be putting your child in harms way.

So as much as it hurt you to feel like you were breaking Sooyoung's trust, you had to protect your family first. For now, you'll just continue trying to gauge how good Sooyoung is with children and hope she isn't offended by how long it's taking you to tell her such pertinent information. You sigh while looking at the food sitting in front of you.

"Are you not hungry after all?" Sooyoung asks. You look up with a bit of a surprised face, just being snapped out of your train of thought.

"Oh sorry, I was just thinking." You smile a bit, trying to ease any of Sooyoung's possible worries. You start to take some small bites of your dinner. Sooyoung just quirks her eyebrows a bit at the sight. She wondered what could possibly be thinking about. Things were awkward for a little bit after that, but the rest of dinner went smoothly. The small amount of tension dissipated and the two of you were able to converse and share laughs as the night went on.

When dinner was finished Sooyoung offered to take you home. Although you were a bit worried at first, you decided to take her offer. You enjoyed the car ride as you watched the dark night sky pass by while continuing to chat idly with Sooyoung. She drops you off without a hitch as you thank her.

*

*

It's now been a couple months since you've first met Sooyoung, and you're life has been better ever since. Although trying to manage the many different parts of your life all at once and by yourself was hard, you knew that Sooyoung would always be there to listen to your worries. Or at least the worries you could talk about without talking about your family.

You were sitting on the couch with your child on your lap, snuggling into you. You couldn't help but to be filled with warmth as you saw how happy and excited they looked while watching the movie on TV. For the past couple of weeks they were begging to watch the movie with you, so finally you had set the time to have a movie night with them. On the table were snacks scattered across it as well as your phone. You noticed your phone light up from a notification. You leaned over just a little bit to reach it and check.

i missed you! i have some takeout and im coming over~

It was a text from Sooyoung. You stared at your phone in shock. Your mind was torn. On one hand you loved the spontaneity of it all and the seemingly romantic gesture. On another hand you hated the spontaneity of it all and worried about Sooyoung finally entering your house only to see that you've been taking care of a kid the entire time. Maybe this was a blessing in disguise though.

You decided to suck it up and meet your fate tonight. You'd welcome Sooyoung to your home and see how things go from there.

alright, see you soon!

You let out the breath you were holding in as you squeeze your eyes in frustration. Your child looked up at you with a worrying look.

"Is something wrong, mommy?" They ask innocently. You shake your head and try to give a reassuring smile. You squeeze their arm a bit.

"Nothing is wrong, someone is going to come over later though so don't be scared from the doorbell." You answer. Your child just nods their head and looks back at the TV, eating some of the popcorn you had made earlier.

Around twenty minutes pass before you finally hear the ringing of your door bell. You gently pick your child off of your lap and onto the couch as you get up to answer. You took in a few deep breathes to try and ready yourself. While reaching out to unlock and turn the doorknob, you realize your hand was shaking despite your efforts.

You open the door and try to give Sooyoung a smile, but you reckon that your worry was obvious as her face quickly had a concerned look.

"Hey Y/N!" Sooyoung says with a smile, with it fading a little as her eyebrows became upturned. "Uhm, are you not happy to see me…?" You become apologetic as you frantically responded.

"Of course I'm happy to see you! It's just that… uhm." You open the door a bit further for Sooyoung and allow her to enter the house. You look at your kid sitting on the couch now staring at Sooyoung rather than watching the movie.

"K/N, this is Sooyoung! A friend of mommy's." You bite your lip after introducing her. You felt bad as it you felt like you were dumping news onto both your date and your own child. You watch as Sooyoung went over to your table and put the takeout down. Things were silent except for the pounding in your chest. You prepared your mind and heart for the worst, expecting Sooyoung to politely say goodbye and leave.

Then, Sooyoung put on a grand smile and excited sat down next to your kid.

"I'm so excited to meet you! Is it okay if I watch this movie with you?" Sooyoung asks, but instead of answering the question your child decided to blurt out their thoughts instead.

"You're really really really pretty." They said with a face mixed with surprise and admiration. Sooyoung gives out a laugh, finding the bluntness of your child hilarious and adorable.

The feeling in your chest began to ease up as you watched the sight. You were both surprised and happy with the way things were looking, but you'd definitely have to have a conversation with Sooyoung afterwards. For now though, it seemed like the three of you could eat take out and enjoy some snacks while watching the rest of a kid's movie.

The movie eventually came to an end though. Your child was yawning and complaining about being tired so you made them go brush their teeth. After they were done you picked them up and gently laid them in bed, kissing their forehead and saying goodnight. When you closed the door to their room, you went back to the living room where Sooyoung was patiently sitting.

"I guess we have some things we should talk about, right?" You gave a little fake laugh after asking the rhetorical question. You walked towards the couch and sat down a couple feet away from Sooyoung.

"So…" She began talking, at first looking at the floor but then into your eyes. Her eyes seemed to be filled with hurt. "Why didn't you tell me?" She whispered. Already you were feeling horrible. You reached your hand out to clasp hers and she let you.

"I'm so sorry. I really am Sooyoung. I was just worried about whether or not you would like kids, let alone start being a part of one's life. I just… I needed more time to gauge that. I was really meaning to tell you though, I promise." You tried to explain to her. Sooyoung leaned forward to you and hugged you.

"Hey hey, don't worry. I absolutely adore K/N already." She backed out of the hug but was still close to you. She tucked away a stray hair as she continued talking with you. "I'll take care of the both of you, okay? I want to do that for you both." She gives you a reassuring smile. You lean in and give her a quick kiss on the lips.

"I'm sorry. No more secrets from me." You say, happy that it now felt like nothing was in between you and your relationship with Sooyoung anymore.