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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Note

JC adopts stray/rouge cultivators after the war au to cope with the destruction of lotus pier. also i love your writing so much!!

Gratuitously Acquired - ao3

At first, he took anyone who would join, needing numbers – needing people. There were plenty of cultivators that wanted to be associated with a great sect. Plenty, too, that were barely more than criminals, wanting to use the smoke and ash of war to obscure the past, to cover up old crimes and wash themselves clean.

Jiang Cheng wasn’t in any position to refuse them. Soldiers were soldiers.

After the war ended, though…

Some he cast out. Others, even more despicable, he slaughtered for what they’d done.

A few –

“Yan Qiao.”

The female cultivator in question, who had been sneaking out of the still mostly ruined Lotus Pier at night in flagrant violation of curfew, froze in her tracks.

“Uh,” she said. “Sect Leader Jiang. Fancy finding you…here…now…at this time…”

Jiang Cheng looked at the basket of buns in her hands. “You’re stealing leftovers from our kitchens to feed orphans among the common people,” he said. “Again.”

She blushed. “No one wants them now that there’s better available, Sect Leader! Really, they’ll only go stale, and then rot – and I never stole when it was the army eating them!”

“That’s not the point,” Jiang Cheng said irritably. “Tell me, how in the name of heavens did you really get branded as a criminal? Distributed too many alms? Did too much charity?”

Yan Qiao coughed, turning red. “I told you before, Sect Leader. I killed a man.”

“He must have done something particularly heinous, then. You’re shitat killing.”

“Now I am. Sect Leader, if you don’t mind…”

“You’re one of the ones who wants my surname, right?” he interrupted. “Consider it granted.”

Yan Qiao – no, he supposed he’d better start thinking of her as Jiang Qiao – gaped at him. “But…Sect Leader!”

“I’ve barely granted it to anyone, so you’d better live up to it, you hear me?” Jiang Cheng said in his best threatening voice. He’d been assured by several people that it was really quite threatening, anyway. “I don’t want any excuses. Now go feed your damn orphans, and in the morning I want a report on how you think we can do it in a more structured manner. I can’t have you sneaking off every night anymore! Now that you’re a Jiang, you’re going to have work.”

When they were done with war and started firmly on rebuilding, the Jiang sect’s name was firmly reestablished as a Great Sect once more, it was the opportunists that came.

Smiling faces, sycophantic voices, cowards one and all – like beetles crawling out of the woodwork, not willing to risk their lives, but willing enough to beg for scraps and advantages later on when it seemed safe enough to do so.

Jiang Cheng wanted to chase them all away, but his sect was still weaker than he wanted to admit, still rebuilding, still more army than civilian operation. They had valiant soldiers by the dozen, but they needed more than that. They needed administrators, supervisors, artisans, smiths, merchants, laundry-women…

They needed workers. The ones they got – well, cowards they might be, but skills they had.

He still rejected most of the worst of them.

Most.

“Bo Zhou,” he said, inspecting the surprisingly flush list of taxes they’d collected that quarter, and the man in question turned to grin unrepentantly at him. “You’d tell me if you were a con artist in a previous life, right?”

“A previous life, Sect Leader?” Bo Zhou said. He was still grinning, but then, he was always grinning. He had a crooked leg and an even more crooked heart, and he’d probably steal candy from little children if he happened to have a hankering, but he was amazing at getting people to do what he wanted. Too amazing, really. “Why limit yourself? What about thislife?”

“…Bo Zhou. Tell me you aren’t a former con artist.”

“I may or may not have had a sideline selling snake oil and protective talismans before I became a cultivator,” Bo Zhou admitted cheerfully, and Jiang Cheng pinched the bridge of his nose – less out of actual irritation and more to keep from actually laughing. The only person he knew that was more shameless than Bo Zhou was Wei Wuxian; he couldn’t wait to introduce them once Wei Wuxian stopped skulking around in wine shops long enough to get back to doing his job as Jiang Cheng’s head disciple and right hand. “Who would’ve known that making all those fake talismans ended up making me pretty good at making actual talismans when I became a cultivator? Really, who could have called that?”

Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes. “Who taught you how to cultivate, anyway? Can I – I don’t know – seek vengeance on behalf of the rest of the world or something?”

Bo Zhou rolled his eyes right back at him. Shameless! “Is this about the taxes? Just be happy I got them all!”

“I can’t just be happy! What if this money is stolen property?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Sect Leader. They’re what we shouldbe getting, and from all the right people. You told me this was the right amount yourself!”

“Yes, but no one ever actually pays the full amount!” Jiang Cheng enjoyed the way Bo Zhou’s jaw dropped. “I just wanted to see if you could actually do it.”

“I’m hurt at your lack of trust.” Bo Zhou paused, considering. “Also a little impressed at you for keeping a straight enough face to trick me. Well done, Sect Leader.”

“Yeah,” Jiang Cheng said. “You too, Jiang Zhou.”

“It’s Bo…” He trailed off, comprehension arriving and speech departing, and this time he didn’t have a quick retort. He’d been nagging Jiang Cheng on and off for the Jiang surname for the last few weeks, more joking than anything else – he knew that Jiang Cheng hadn’t given his surname to the vast majority of the new people in his sect, only the very few he thought were worth it.

Jiang Cheng enjoyed the newly dubbed Jiang Zhou’s moment of speechlessness thoroughly, since he was moderately sure he wasn’t going to get another one anytime in the next – ever, possibly.

“You proved your worth and your trustworthiness,” he said, patting Jiang Zhou on the shoulder. It occurred to him that he should probably come up with a courtesy name for the man, although he wasn’t sure the man would want one. “Also, congratulations, you’re now the person in charge of tax collection. See if you can think up some new thoughts about supplementing our income, will you? We have so many costs, and I don’t want to rely on Lanling Jin more than I can help it, not like Gusu Lan…”

“Oh, really?” Jiang Zhou interrupted, abruptly excited. “I have so many ideas! How ethical do you want to be about this?”

Jiang Cheng paused. “…very?”

“Be reasonable, Sect Leader!”

“…moderately?” he tried, a little more desperately.

“I can work with moderately. I don’t suppose you’d accept ‘thin and barely plausible veneer’?”

“No.”

“Oh well. Moderately ethical it is!”

Most of the Jiang sect was slaughtered during the attack on the Lotus Pier. Disciples Jiang Cheng had grown up with his whole life, had expected to see by his side in the future, his friends, his family, even his petty childhood enemies – all gone.

Well, not all gone. There were some Jiang disciples that had been away from Lotus Pier at the time, whether on some errand or a night-hunt or other reasons; they rushed back to his side as soon as they could, of course, and formed the core of Jiang Cheng’s new Jiang sect. When he’d felt utterly alone, when even Wei Wuxian was missing, they had been there for him. They’d preserved their lives and then they’d promised them to him, and it wasn’t until they knelt before him that he really felt like a Sect Leader.

There was no way he could give any of them up now.

“Jiang Meimei, you can’t go,” he said, having completely abandoned all shame in favor of clutching at her robes as if he were a child. “I need you!”

“I’m not even a proper Jiang disciple!” she exclaimed, exasperated – or possibly just annoyed that her grand plan to sneak out in the middle of the night had been stymied by his ambush. “Just because my surname is still Jiang doesn’t mean I didn’t get kicked out, remember?”

“I thought you just left,” Jiang Cheng said, temporarily distracted. “No one ever really talked much about it, actually, but to the extent anyone did, they said that you’d decided that your inclinations were more suited to being a rogue cultivator. That you didn’t want to be weighed down by sect expectations –”

“Hah!” Jiang Meimei tossed her head. “As if it wouldn’t be better to be a roving sect cultivator than a rogue cultivator! I won’t deny that I had a fair bit of wanderlust in my youth –”

“You’re only ten years older than me, you’re not that old.”

“Shut up, brat.”

“You can’t tell me to shut up, I’m your sect leader.”

“You’re my baby cousin is what you are, and, again, I’m actually not part of the Jiang sect!”

“That’s ridiculous,” Jiang Cheng argued. “You’ve been at my side during the entire Sunshot Campaign.”

“I wasn’t going to let my baby cousin get himself murdered, now was I?” Jiang Meimei sniffed. “But I’m still a rogue cultivator. They kicked me out when I wouldn’t accept a marriage, and I’m still firm on that.”

Jiang Cheng blinked. “Wait, you don’t want to be married? Really?” he asked, concerned. “But what about poor Liu Lingling? You shouldn’t be sleeping with her if you don’t intend to be serious about it! I’m pretty sure she’s just waiting for the current project you’re working on to finish to find a matchmaker to exchange birth characters –”

“They wanted me to marry a man,” Jiang Meimei clarified, but her habitual frown had eased considerably; she looked almost on the verge of a smile. “A-Cheng, you’re being dense again. You’re the Sect Leader of a Great Sect now. You know that that means you need to have alliances, marriage contacts with other sects, and that means using your subsidiary branches.”

“Jiang Meimei, you’re the one being dense,” Jiang Cheng said. “You think I’d force you into a marriage? I don’t have subsidiary branches. I barely have a sect, even after all this time. I’m not Wen Ruohan, handing out my surname to anyone who wants it – I only give it to the ones that matter, the ones I want to keep, and those of you that actually share my blood are even rarer, even more precious. How could I give you away?”

Jiang Meimei pursed her lips.

“I really do need you,” Jiang Cheng said quietly. “You weren’t part of the Jiang sect at all, not really, but you still came to help me – you were there from the beginning of the Sunshot Campaign, and you’ve never strayed, never left. You’re my right hand. I can’t do without you.”

Jiang Meimei turned her head away. “It’s not that I want to leave you,” she said. “But becoming a rogue cultivator was hard enough the first time. I couldn’t rely on any of the things that I had always had, everything always changing. I was young and angry then, I could handle it, but things are different now. I’m less flexible, less compromising, older, more tired – I can’t just walk out on a whim and just rough it anymore. I have a girl who, yes, I want to eventually marry; I want to have children. I need certainty. Are you going to give it to me?”

Jiang Cheng looked down at his hands. He’d known it was going to have to come to this, but he’d been dragging his feet, not wanting to succumb to a reality that already existed. Had existed for longer than he wanted to admit, as if simply denying it would mean that it wasn’t the truth.

Like a child.

“Yes,” he said, though it tore his heart out of his chest to do it. “I will. Jiang Meimei…will you take the position of Head Disciple?”

Wei Wuxian wasn’t coming back. Jiang Cheng had already cast him out of the sect, just like Jiang Meimei had been, except in Wei Wuxian’s case it had been something that Wei Wuxian himself had demanded. He was living in Yiling now, and by all reports was quite happy there with his little Wen sect family that he’d picked over Jiang Cheng and all his family.

He was never coming back.

It was time to move on.

“Yes,” she said, and shoved her pack into his chest. “Now go unpack that for me. Consider it payment for driving me to extreme measures!”

“I’m your sect leader, you know,” he grumbled. “Officially, now. You could show me some respect.”

“Would you rather pay for my wedding down the line?”

“I’m going, I’m going!” And then, as he scurried over away, he shouted over his shoulder: “As if I wouldn’t be paying for it anyway! You think my Head Disciple’s going to be married in anything other than top style? Better start planning…”

“Don’t rush me! Brat!”

Jin Ling wasn’t surnamed Jiang, but he was the most important person in all of the Lotus Pier – and Jiang Cheng wanted to make sure everyone knew it. It hadn’t been easy for him to get the chance to help care for Jin Ling, especially here, so far away from home; Jiang Cheng had expected to barely be allowed to visit, to have to cool his heels outside of Lanling City begging just for a glimpse of him. Being able to take him home to raise for half the year, even if it was due to the dangerous infighting amongst Lanling Jin, was more than he’d ever dreamed.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t clear that Jin Ling himself agreed.

“He’s still crying,” Jiang Cheng muttered, rubbing his eyes. “Surely he’s got to stop sometime? I mean, just – physically?”

“They say a boy resembles his mother’s brother,” Jiang Meimei said, echoing the gesture. “If he’s got your lungs and stamina, Sect Leader, we’re doomed.”

“I’m rethinking the whole having children thing,” Liu Lingling said blearily, having fallen asleep on her soon-to-be wife’s shoulder several times, only to be woken up by the next round of crying. “I need sleep.”

“Go get some, both of you,” Jiang Cheng ordered. When his cousin scowled at him, he scowled back. “I’m serious. If he keeps this up, we’re going to need to go into shifts. I can last a bit longer.”

“That’s a filthy lie.”

“It is not. Your sect leader has given you an order – get to it!”

It was a filthy lie.

Jiang Cheng opened his eyes when the crink in his neck grew too irritating to ignore, at which point he realized he’d been asleep – and, more importantly, that Jin Ling was somehow not crying.

He sat up with a start, suddenly terrified: had something happened to him? Had he been silenced forever? Had Jiang Cheng failed this one last duty he had to his sister?

“Shhh, little one,” someone was whispering, not far away. “Let me tell you the one about the Weaver Girl and the Cowherd, yeah? You seem like someone who’d appreciate stars. It all started –”

Jiang Cheng went to go look.

A teenage girl was rocking Jin Ling in her arms and telling him a story in murmured tones, and Jin Ling was yawning and trying to gnaw on her shirt. She wasn’t even a cultivator, as far as Jiang Cheng could tell. Her clothing suggested some level of poverty, her accent the countryside – how’d she even end up here?

He wasn’t sure he cared.

Jiang Cheng didn’t want to disturb her, but he did anyway; a shift of his weight, a scuffling of his feet, and the floor creaked. The girl jumped, startled, but luckily Jin Ling was already most of the way asleep and just grumbled a little instead of starting to screech.

“How’d you do that?” Jiang Cheng asked, nodding at Jin Ling. “Make him stop crying.”

“My mother had seven kids after me,” the girl said, answering automatically. “And her sister had six. Someone had to learn to deal with all those babies, and it ended up being me. Think it’s just habit after this long.”

Jiang Cheng couldn’t handle one baby. He couldn’t even imagine.

That’s when the girl seemed to remember herself, and bit her lip. “Uh, sorry,” she said, hanging her head. “I heard him crying and I couldn’t resist...I’m pretty sure I’m not supposed to be here. It was an accident.”

“How did you get here?” Jiang Cheng asked, because accidental or not, a security breach was still a security breach. “And who are you, anyway?”

“My name’s A-Hua. I’m here to work in the kitchens, just got hired this morning; the fourth cook is my uncle’s wife’s cousin, she got me a job, said it was a good place to start – I was trying to find my way out so I could go to the servant’s quarters to get some sleep, but then I got lost…”

More likely she’d decided it was better to try to stay somewhere indoors than go out in the pouring rain to try to find her way to the right set of quarters, Jiang Cheng thought to himself. “Give me your hand.”

“Uh. What?”

He ignored her stare, took her hand and felt her pulse. There was a little bit of natural talent there, though not much; she might, if she tried hard enough, become a cultivator, but she’d never be more than a servant.

Unless, of course, she did something unusual to impress someone.

“Forget the kitchens,” Jiang Cheng told her. “You’re hired on a provisional basis to keep an eye on Jin Ling.”

The girl nodded, eyes wide as saucers. “Can you – do that?”

Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes. “Yes, I can. What’s your surname? You can’t go around being called A-Hua, we have at least seven people that I know of that go by that name.”

The girl looked distressed.

She probably didn’t have a proper surname. Some people in the countryside didn’t.

But they really couldn’t go around shouting “A-Hua” every time Jin Ling was crying, which was basically all the time.

“Fine,” he said, giving in. “Do well, and I’ll consider letting you use mine. But only if you do well!”

Jiang Cheng was covered in mud thanks to a successful-but-at-what-cost night hunt and angry about it, stomping around the lotus pools on his way back to town, when he heard the familiar sounds of someone having a panic attack.

He slowed, involuntarily, and took a look: it was some teenager dressed in black, heaving miserably by a tree.

Jiang Meimei had once said that Jiang Cheng was a bit weak when it came to teenagers.

Jiang Cheng said that was nonsense.

Jiang Hua chimed in, quite loyally (if perhaps not with the best timing), and said he wasn’t.

Jiang Cheng yielded the argument at once to keep Jiang Meimei from laughing herself sick.

In view of that, he was better off ignoring the kid. After all, what was it to him that some kid was having a fit of anxiety right next the same old lotus pool that he used to have his own teenage fits of anxiety next to, under the shade of the same old tree that had sheltered him – one of the few places that remained untouched by the Wen sect’s aggression, one of the few places that was exactly the same?

Jiang Cheng groaned and walked over. “Okay, fine. What’s your problem?”

The kid looked up at him. He had dark circles under his eyes. “I think my heart’s about to explode.”

“That’s just the anxiety,” Jiang Cheng said, and sat down next to him. “What’s causing the anxiety? Don’t say that someone is better than you and your parents are disappointed in you.”

“What?” the kid blinked. “No, it’s not – it’s not that. I’m about to screw up the very first job I ever got.”

Jiang Cheng considered that. It was just different enough from his own issues that he didn’t suspect a plot, and yet close enough that he might actually be able to offer some expertise.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked reluctantly.

“Not to some mud-man,” the kid said, and – hey! It wasn’t that bad. He thought, anyway. Actually, it probably was that bad. “I just…I’m the only one left. I have to make something of myself!”

Jiang Cheng’s eye twitched. “What do you mean, you’re the only one left?”

The kid stuttered through his story. It wasn’t as bad as Jiang Cheng had initially feared, but it was still pretty bad – his small village had had bad harvests, and there had been starvation, a bad winter; the kid had been sent out to get help, but it had taken too long and he’d arrived back to find them all already gone. He’d been lost, but some traveling cultivator had agreed to take him on as a disciple provided he proved himself, had taught him all sorts of skills, cultivation and talisman-writing and music –

“Music?” Jiang Cheng asked. “Not the sword?”

“There was only the one,” the kid explained. “Obviously he kept it for himself.”

Jiang Cheng didn’t think much of that – surely this cultivator, whoever he ws, could have shared, just long enough to teach? – but he didn’t comment. It seemed fairly clear that the kid didn’t actually think very highly of his teacher, although he was very earnestly trying to be appropriately filial.

It was a little cute.

“…and I was supposed to wait here for someone when they came by here, some fancy rich person, and then get them to follow me, but it’s been ages and no one’s come by at all!” the kid wailed. “I’m such a screw up!”

“You don’t even know who you’re waiting for?” Jiang Cheng asked, and the kid shook his head. “How were you supposed to get them to follow you, then?”

The kid scratched his nose. “My master said that if I showed off some of my cultivation, they’d follow me right away.”

Jiang Cheng suppressed a smirk. “It must be very impressive cultivation, then.”

“…not really. I only know one trick,” the kid admitted. “But it’s not that hard, and it looks impressive – here, see, wait; give me a second, I just need to whistle –”

Zidian crackled to life on Jiang Cheng’s finger before the kid finished the first stanza.

“Stop that!” he cried out, leaping to his feet, and – startled – the kid stopped, blinking owlishly at him. “Is that what your master taught you?!”

“Yes?” the kid said. “Did I do it wrong?”

Jiang Cheng gnashed his teeth. “That’s demonic cultivation. Never do that, okay? Ever.”

“But then how am I supposed to get the fancy rich person to follow me, assuming he ever showed?”

Jiang Cheng’s eyes narrowed. If he hadn’t tripped over that branch and fallen into the mud – if he hadn’t taken an extra half-shichen to struggle out of the mire – if he’d walked by in all his usual finery, rich person that he was, and seen some kid practicing demonic cultivation…

He’d have given chase in a heartbeat.

More to the point, everyone knew he would. His reputation had been pretty much set in stone by this point.

“Let’s go find that master of yours,” he said. “Right now.”

Of course, that ended up leading Jiang Cheng straight into the bastard’s trap, which would have been a problem except that he’d taken the time to send someone to tell Jiang Qiao, who’d been waiting for him back in town, that he’d be a bit late and not to worry, just wait where she was.

She’d ignored his instructions and arrived just in time to knife the demonic cultivator – a human trafficker whose operations Jiang Cheng had shut down with extreme viciousness only a few months before – right in the belly, gutting him like a fish in a swift easy motion.

“I think I’m getting the hang of it again,” she said, smiling at the knife, and Jiang Cheng made a mental note to ask exactly how manymen she’d killed to get that criminal brand of hers, except the poor kid was sinking down to his knees with a horrified look and, shit, that horrible bastard, evil as he might have been, was probably the last person the kid had in this whole rotten world, wasn’t he?

“Does Jiang Hua still have those beginner manuals we dug up for her?” Jiang Cheng asked, and Jiang Qiao nodded. “Good. Tell her that starting today, Jiang Jianwen here’s her little brother. She’s been pining over raising someone ever since Jin Ling got to be too old to snuggle.”

The kid looked up with wide eyes.

“No, you don’t get a choice on the name,” Jiang Cheng told him. “Whatever name this piece of crap gave you, just forget it, you hear me? You can do better than him. But no more demonic cultivation!”

“I wish I could visit the Lotus Pier,” Wei Wuxian mumbled, looking wistfully downriver. They were very close by, but he still didn’t dare, even though Jiang Cheng had grumpily extended an invitation through Jin Ling. So much had happened – he just didn’t know where to even start.

He didn’t want to get into all that messy history with Jiang Cheng.

He just wanted to visit, that’s all.

He missed Jiang Cheng, but he missed the Lotus Pier, too. The food, the places, the air…

“I just need a secret way in that even the sect leader doesn’t know about,” he sighed. He’d once known them all – but there was a different sect leader now, and a different Lotus Pier. He couldn’t risk it: Jiang Cheng might find out that he’d snuck in and feel hurt, thinking that Wei Wuxian was avoiding him, when he was just avoiding the conversation; that would just make everything worse.

Lan Wangji would have distracted him, but Lan Wangji himself had been distracted – some man in Jiang sect colors with a heavy limp and an excited sort of air had rushed over, shouting something about wanting to talk about tax policy and possibly also games of chance, and Lan Wangji had all but fled. It had been so funny that Wei Wuxian had nearly laughed himself sick.

“I know one,” someone said, and Wei Wuxian glanced over: it was a young man in Jiang sect disciple robes, little more than a teenager – only a few years older than Jin Ling, if he had to guess. He was smiling, ducking his head a little; he looked proud of himself. “I mean, if you really want. But only if you don’t mean any harm!”

How adorable, Wei Wuxian thought, and grinned at him. “I just want something spicy without having to go through the whole process of greeting people, is that a crime?”

“Not at all!” the kid exclaimed, beaming, and Wei Wuxian almost felt bad for conning him. Almost.

“Do you really know a secret way in?” he asked, pretending to be doubtful. “Really?”

Sure enough, the kid – Jiang Jianwen, apparently, he must be the kid of one of the ones that survived the massacre – was easily lured into insisting that he did know, and then to agreeing to act as guide.

And, moreover, it turned out he really did know his way inside, which made this the easiest infiltration ever.

Or so Wei Wuxian thought right up until he felt a knife point touch his ribs.

“Well done, Jianwen!” a young woman – also in Jiang colors – said, reaching out and ruffling Jiang Jianwen’s hair.

“Aw, it was nothing,” he said, just as bashful as he was when he’d been talking to Wei Wuxian. “I couldn’t have done it without shixiong luring off Lan-er-gongzi.”

Wait, that’d been part of this, too?

That was worrisome.

“Hardly nothing,” the older woman standing behind Wei Wuxian said. She had a certain sort of rock-hard steadiness that was more worrying than the knife she was holding on him – she was a powerful cultivator, familiar with killing and scarred with a criminal’s brand, and yet she seemed entirely at ease in a way that suggested a strong sense of righteousness, with no guilt or weak points he might exploit to make an easy out. “You successfully conned the Yiling Patriarch into following you right into a trap.”

Wei Wuxian wondered if he could deny it.

“I don’t know, shijie, that doesn’t seem that hard,” the first woman said. “Isn’t he the kind of person to run head-first into danger at the first instance?”

“Head-first into danger, and like his tail’s on fire away from dogs,” the older woman agreed, and – damnit. There was clearly no denying it; they actually knew him. Though from where, he had no idea. “A-Hua, Jiangwen, let’s go – we don’t want to be late for our meeting.”

“I don’t suppose I can convince you to tell me who we’re going to go see?” Wei Wuxian tried, putting on his most charming smile. “Or, perhaps, who you are, and what you have against me…?”

“Jiang Jianwen you know,” the woman said, rather unexpectedly. “I’m Jiang Qiao, and this is Jiang Hua. Our shixiong is Jiang Zhou – he’s the one that makes Lan-er-gongzi lose his wallet every time he’s forced to visit Yunmeng.”

Wei Wuxian was almost distracted with the tantalizing prospects of stories about Lan Wangji. Almost.

“You’re all surnamed Jiang?” he asked, surprised: he might have believed it for Jiang Jianwen, maybe, he was young enough to be the son of someone in the last generation. But Jiang Hua and Jiang Qiao looked absolutely nothing alike either to each other or to Jiang Cheng, and at least Jiang Qiao was old enough that he should’ve recognized her if she’d been a Jiang. There’d been a lot of people in the old Jiang sect, even if you limited it to those surnamed Jiang, but he’d been Head Disciple back then – he’d known almost all of them.

“We’re adopted,” Jiang Jianwen said. He looked very proud. “Sect Leader Jiang took us into the family as part of the branch lines.”

Wei Wuxian had never once in his life wanted to have the surname Jiang, not even when he’d been mocked for not having it. He’d never even thought about it. Not ever.

He felt a stab of envy at the word family, though.

“He gave you his surname?” he asked, and tried not to feel jealous when they all nodded. “Oh.”

It made sense, he tried to tell himself as they walked through the back streets of the Lotus Pier. The Jiang sect had been demolished, and Jiang Cheng practically the only survivor but for whoever happened by coincidence to not be at home – the Jiang sect would need branch family members, and adoption made sense. There was no reason to resent the idea of Jiang Cheng giving the name he had always treated as being so precious to a branded former criminal, to a con man, to a commoner from the countryside, to a –

“You were a what?” Wei Wuxian exclaimed.

“A demonic cultivator,” Jiang Jianwen said bashfully. “Not a very a good one, though.”

Wei Wuxian wanted to say something to that. He didn’t know what, but something.

“Enough chatter,” Jiang Qiao said. “We’re here.”

Jiang Hua opened the door and Wei Wuxian stepped inside.

Then he tried to step back out, only to be crowded in by the others.

“No, no, no,” he said. “No, I was willing to play along until now, but this is a step too far. You don’t understand! She’s going to eviscerate me!”

Jiang Meimei – older than the teenager he remembered her being when she left the sect, but still unmistakable – grinned with her teeth bared.

“Oh good,” she said. “At least your brain is still working. Now come on and have a seat, and we’re going to talk about how you’ve been treating my baby cousin recently…”

#mdzs #jiang cheng #original characters #wei wuxian #my fic #my fics #gratuitously acquired

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thasorns-archive · 2 years

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Reveal your watch and rewatch list

I was tagged by Kate (@greenandbluebubblegum), Gei the girlfriend (@snimeat) and Vish (@talays-portkey) thank you so much lovelies 🌸 (I’m doing this the 2nd time but still counts, right?!)

CURRENTLY WATCHING:

Adamas: only two episodes aired so far and it’s interesting

Again my life: I, yet, need to finish this one.

Baddy 3 Friends: Does this one count?!

Cafe Minamdang: Love this one :)

Check out: Before you say anything, I am so here for the messiness and chaos. I can’t explain it’s plot because it’s all over the place. It’s really chaotic but I’m all here for it (sometimes you need a piece of media you don’t take that seriously)

Duy Beni: I’m surprised about this one. When I first watched the trailer, I wasn’t that interested but I watched the first episode out of boredom on television and yep the amount of suspicions and drama kept me going

Extraordinary Attorney Woo: MY LOVE!

Led Astray by Love: Why is this one so short??

Maid: My aunt recommended me this and I didn’t knew I’d like it a lot

Mama Gogo: I’m four episodes behind…

Minato Shouji Coin Laundry: two episodes behind…

Pandora no Kajitsu: Kagaku Hanzai Sousa File: This kinda surprised me. I went in without really knowing only what it said on mdl and i like it a lot

Peaky Blinders: Finally watching the 6th season

Senden Daha Güzel: I enjoy this one a lot and she’s so gorgeous but what I hate the most is when they bring a third person into the love interests. This trope is so overdone in turkish dramas. I don’t want to drop this one

Senpai, Danjite Koidewa!: Jdramas dude.

Vice Versa: Went in for Jimmy but probably going to stay for Sea

REWATCHING:

Criminal Minds: probably for the 100th time. It’s my all time favorite and I’d never get bored of it

Gossip Girl (old ver.): I’m watching this now for the 3rd time but in between when I’m in the mood to watch it or when I’m getting ready and need to have something streaming in the background

(I want to rewatch Semantic Error though and kinda Not Me)

LOOKING FORWARD TO:

Alice in Borderland Season 2: one of the ones I’m looking forward the most

Between Us: uwma vibes. TeamWin and finally Manaow and her man again

Big Mouth: the trailer looks good so far, let’s hope it is really that good

D.P. Season 2: heavy but a good one, can’t wait

Gap the Series: uh duh

Home School: I need to watch the trailer to that again but I remember putting this one on my mdl list

If you Wish upon Me: I think this one will break me and make me sad but still looking forward to it

Little Women: I read the novel before I even knew about the korean adaption to it. Can recommend it to everyone and this is one I look the most forward to!

Moonlight Chicken: listen, this one is not on my list (I didn’t liked many of the trailers from this year - yeah you can judge me) but maybe I’ll give it a try

P.S. I hate you: we (and by that I mean I) love the drama

The Eclipse: same here, not on my list but I’ll look into it

Üç Kız Kardeş Season 2: my fave turkish drama atm, it’s sooo good and it’s about family and just sibling relationships love this one

Special mention:

SLR: it’s a movie which already came out but they’re no subs to it and hopefully we will get it because the trailer looks promising and I like me some dark movies

Tagging: since I’m doing this the 2nd time most of the people have already done this so, I’m tagging everyone who wants to do it and please don’t be shy 🧡🌸

#don’t ask me how I still have a life… I don’t have friends.#that’s why I can watch all these even tho it might not be on the same day #anyway feel free to be tagged :)#zey rants #tag game

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theodora3022 · 4 years

Text

Too Trusting (Yandere Ciel Phantomhive X F!reader)

Summary: You picked up a half-dead young man from a dark alley, tended to his wounds with your nurse skills. However, you did not expect his way of paying his debts.

Notes: So this is a Ciel counterpart of this by @animeyanderelover First time writing for Black butler so hopefully this do not turn out to be too OOC.

Ciel is aged up in this, so no pedophilia haha.

Word count:3.1k(I went overboard oops, a sequal is already taking space up in my mind but whatever), long read with caution

Trigger Warning(s): Gore, drugging, implied dub-con, stalking

Stars glistening behind thin clouds, while the silver moon watches over midnight London carefully.

You yawn and stretch your stiff limbs as you walk out the hospital hall. It has been a long night, though not many patients, the slow hours from afternoon to midnight is nothing less then torture.

You know what you were getting into when you took up studying nursing, but you still cannot chase away this sensation of annoyance. The walk back to your family’s manor is usually peaceful, as it is through a well-to-do neighbourhood of the city. But you still stay on your guard as you lower your hood cape and hurried along. Under ideal circumstances, you would have a carriage for commute, but your noble yet impoverished family could only live a modest life even though your father holds the title of Count. As a result you grown to be independent, cleaned your own room, dressed yourself, enough to become a hard-working nurse instead of a proper noble maiden.

You were unsure of your eyes when you noticed a trail of blood prints leading towards a dark alleyway. Judging by the traces, it means the person, or the thing is still nearby as they are fresh. Should you follow this? What if it is a criminal? But your care for this person’s health got the best of you. With this amount of blood loss, the wounds can be fatal if not given proper medical care. Whoever they are, you cannot just walk away and forget all about them, as it is against your conscience.

A young man dressed in fine suits is not what you expected, although you imagined that suit would look better if not soaked crimson, it seems that he has been shot by guns, the bullet wholes are the proofs. This is no good, you thought as you observe the pool of blood forming underneath him. He needs treatment right away. Although the gunshots are not on his vital parts, such as heart or brain, the blood loss from arteries would drain his life quickly.

“Sir? Can you hear me?” Crouching down, you made a close-up examination of his condition. Unconscious and pale, it seems he had dragged his way into his dark back alley with all those bullet shots. Putting some simple bandages over his wounds, you scoop his slim form up and hurried out of that place.

It feels like a long, feverish dream for Ciel, being carried as he senses the bullets still present in his flesh.

He woke up staring towards your bedroom ceiling. It is morning already, where is Sebastian? Noticing the unfamiliar scenery, Ciel quickly reaches for his right eye, relieved to feel that his eyepatch is still intact.

With a crack of the door, you walked in with a teacup in hand. “I see that you’re awake, I was expecting you to be in coma a bit longer.” Although you are a bit offended by the young man’s cold and evaluating gaze, you still put the cup of warm water on the nightstand.

Instead of taking a sip at the liquid, he asked questions. So demanding, fitting for a young noble.

“Where am I?” “The (family name) manor, do not worry, my parents would not be home until later this week.” Brining a man home while your parents are away, how scandalous, yet you know the laundry maid and the cleaning maid knows to keep their mouths shut. “I advise you to not trying to move too intensively at present, your wounds are still healing.” Pouring yourself a cup, you took a seat on the long sofa next to him. That is where you doze off last night, where the wounded man took your bed. Today is supposed to be your day off, you planned to use it to catch up on sleep, but now it is all ruined thanks to mister mystery on your bed here.

The (family name) family? Ciel vaguely recalls reading about this name before. This house of Counts used to be quite influential in the days of the Queen’s grandfather, George III, and the regency era, but now they are nothing more then minor nobles. Still, he cannot fandom how a lady like you had saved him from that bloody mess.

Looking down to his abdomen, Ciel can see he had received medical attention from you. Now that he has been saved from the reaper’s collection, Ciel knows the best thing to do is calling for his loyal butler. However, he must find a way to repay his debts you. You did save his life, after all.

“How long was I unconscious?” “Only for a couple of hours. May I have your name, Sir?”

He knew he should hide his identity, even from you. The less people knowing that the Queen’s guard dog was almost successfully assassinated last night, the better. But as if his lips have a mind of its own, Ciel let it slip out. “Ciel.” Good thing he managed to hold the word after.

Ciel, the French word for sky. Suitable for his eye color. “Well, pleasure to meet you Sir Ciel, I am (y/n). You might have guessed I am a noble but spare me the court protocols. Right now I am nothing but a humble nurse.” Now you have a chance to look at Ciel properly, he is actually quite handsome with those delicate features. Silky blue-black hair paired with peacock blue eyes, although one of them is covered by an eyepatch. You were tempted to pry when he was still out but choose not to as it could bring horrific consequences. Noblity can be so cruel, you do not want to get dragged into their mess further.

“I thank you, for coming to my aid.” Ciel lowering his upper body forward, attempt to bow as best as he could in his current state.

“It was nothing, really. Please be careful, Sir Ciel. Your wounds are sealed, but vigorous movement can still open them up.” Your knotted brow amuses him, how can you act so nonchalantly when receiving gratitude form Lord Phantomhive himself? You are a peculiar one indeed. Brining a stranger home and patching him up, while you know nothing of his identity or intentions. How very naïve of you. Guess there no harm in trusting you for a bit. If you want him dead you could have just left him in that damp alleyway.

Taking a sip of the teacup you prepared for him, the Earl frowned at the plain taste. But he drank all of it, nonetheless. Being subjected to tea for so long, he finds water dull and it leaves a foul taste in his mouth. It would have to suffice for now. “My butler would be here soon; would you mind opening the windows?”

Baffled by this odd request, you still drew away the curtains and let the morning sunshine in the room. Seeing you bathed in sunlight had made Ciel feel a certain something. He is startled by this strange sensation, how it made him blush and lose composure. The Earl had never been very sociable person since childhood, so the only female he frequently spend time with is his fiancée Elizabeth. One could say the fairer sex is foreign territory to this man. Ciel is used to being around Elizabeth, out of duty as she is his future bride. But he never felt this warm feeling when he is with her. You might not be a beauty by popular standards, but there is just something about you that made him want to... maybe it is your caring gaze, or your easygoing attitude, Ciel is not sure which one to pick.

“Excuse me, young lady, do you mind telling me how serious my lord’s injuries are?” You jumped back, frightened by the sudden appearance of the tall man on your window ledge. This is two stories high; how did he get up here? No wonder why Ciel wants you to open the windows.

“Sebastian, you frightened her.” The young man scolded the butler, who merely bowed and apologized for the intrusion. You begin describing his bullet wounds in great detail, even showing him the aftermaths: the bullets you took out before on a plate. But you soon found yourself staring up into the butler’s gorgeous eyes, and you started stuttering. Those eyes are like swirling tornadoes, drawing you close every minute. Although Sir Ciel is already an attractive lad, his butler seems to be on whole new level.

Usually when women were swooning over Sabastian, Ciel would find it irritating but simply ignore the interaction, as it could be used to their advantage. But seeing your starring eyes fixated on the tall man in black, a bunch of...jealousy hit in in the head. You saved him; he is supposed to be the one you are looking after! Why are you so focused on that demon? Taking notes of his young master’s angry signs: how Ciel bit his underlip, Sabastian knows he had gone too far with you.

“Sabastian, carry me back home, that is an order.” He spitted out the sentance rather harshly.

You snapped out of your funny state, approving his actions: “If you must move, it is the best if someone carry you. Sir Sabastian, do you need me to call you a carriage?”

“No need, Miss. My lord and I would be on our way now, thank you for your assistance.” Within two seconds, they both disappeared from the room, as if they were never there. You shook your head, cleaning up the teacup and the messy quilts, wondering how you are supposed to return that blood-stained suit jacket that still lies in the laundry bin downstairs.

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The Earl Phantomhive is now back to his study, reading a report about you.

“May I ask you why this young lady had peaked your interests?” That smirk on Sabastian’s lips successfully irritated Ciel’s short temper. Scowling at him, he tried to explain how he only wants to properly thank you on saving his life. “I never like owning debts, but I do repay them. What is that smirk for, Sabastian? Are you teasing me?”

“Why, how could I milord. I do not have the courage to mock my master.” After giving him a warning look, Ciel returns to his paperwork, setting your files aside. But unfortunately his mind starts to wonder.

What would it be like, to have your hands messaging his shoulder when they are sore from work? Those hands that pulled him from death not so long ago. No, no. He has to stop. Ciel Phantomhive already has a fiancée, and even though he had no romantic feelings for Elizabeth, it is not proper to just daydream about another lady in such salacious manners.

Even so, Ciel needs to make you do not face any dreadful consequences because of him. Many people want him dead; he simply cannot allow you to be affected by his foolishness. A precious person like deserves to be protected and cherished.

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Labelling your strange encounter with Sir Ciel as a notable but past event, you carried on your daily duties per usual. Your parents did not suspect a thing as you took care of all traces of Ciel, you still work those awful full night shifts. That suit jacket is cleansed, folded neatly in your bottom drawer, as a reminder of Ciel and his handsome butler is not a fever dream.

While browsing the London news during afternoon tea, you glance at the gossip column and find how Lord Phantomhive had broke off his engagement with little lady Midford. You pay it no particular mind, as you were barely involved in high society due to your family’s declining status. Gossips such as these does not bother you a bit. You placed the newspaper back to its proper shelve, finishing the biscuits as you thought about how you should get out of this state of unease.

Maybe you are just losing your sanity from night shifts, but ever since that day Ciel appear in your life, you have this constant feel of being watched everywhere. In your bedroom, in the hospital halls or in the streets, no matter where. No matter how hard you searched, there is nobody. Even though you sense no malicious intent, it still worries you and kept you up at nights. Your parents are worried about your ever-growing dark circles, but you just brush it off as side effects of your job.

“Really, dear, you shouldn’t overwork yourself.” The Countess, also your mother said at the dinner table one night. “The household can still run without your overtime pay; you know.”

You nod silently, pretending to be having trouble dissecting the salmon filet. Working is a way to help your parents pay for the ever-expensive bills of this manor, as well as your insurance of not being sold on the marriage market by your devious uncle, who brought suitors to every family party. How he said: “Your family might not be what it used to be, but a son of a wealthy merchant can change that!” disgusts you so. Those men disgust you also. All they want is that Count title, as you are the only child, your family title would go to you.

“You got mail, milady.” Your washer maid presents the latest postage to you. Ah, is it the pay checks?

When you held the white envelope in your hands, you could not believe your eyes; The scarlet wax seal is engraved with the crest of a dog, representing the Phantomhive family. What could the Earl possibly want with you? Although you are a nobleman’s daughter, you never acted like one and you lived a middle-class life. The only distinction being the family tree and your blood. Knowing your worth, you did not assume naively how the earl must have want your hand in marriage, even if he recently broke off his engagement. Your status of a backwater noble is too insignificant for him to notice, so why did you receive this letter?

It indicates the Lord wants you to join him for dinner tomorrow night, which made your stomach churns. Your table manners are not the best, as your parents do not care for such things. Along with the letter there is a package containing a fine black dress, its velvet material surely feels expensive. What did you do to attract such attention from the Queen’s guard dog? You simply cannot fathom why, never at once Ciel came to your mind. You initially wanted to turn down the invitation, but your father said it would reflect poorly on the family. You accepted it, not wanting to put your parents in trouble. This must be a mistake, you thought. I am not qualified to be some lady, all I wanted is to help people in the infirmary.

The dress fits you perfectly, as if it is tailored by the finest in London. A shiver climbs down your spine as you thought about how he obtained your measurements. All you have to do is smile, eat whatever, and he will get bored of you in no time, right?

No.

When you were greeted by that devilishly handsome butler again, you were so relieved. This is just Ciel inviting you to dinner, to show his gratitude! There is nothing to be concerned about.

Ciel not like himself from few weeks ago at all. You can tell that he is trying whatever strategy to make you feel comfortable, even telling you to forget about stiffy table manners if you like. Hm, how unusual, as you heard before the Earl is found of strict etiquette and protocols. But having seen him in a fragile state before, you never once suspected his true intention.

Ciel is mad. Not at just anyone, but at his loyal servant, Sebastian.

How dare he drawn your attention away, how dare he makes you giggle like a fool, how dare he make you smile like that. Doesn’t the demon know you will soon belong to his master from all those investigations? It is bad behaviour for a servant.

“Were you listening, (y/n)?” Ciel suddenly stops in the middle of a description on his company’s latest candies.

“I-I’m sorry Lord Phantomhive, it is just...” You lower your head to apologize, but he seems less then pleased.

“Sabastian, leave the room now.” “As you wish, young master.”

After the butler backout of the dining room, leaving the two of you alone, Ciel’s expression completely changed. But you are a bit preoccupied by your dizziness. Why did your head feel so heavy all of a sudden? Have you caught a chill? Standing up from the chair, you courtesies to your host: “Thank you, Lord Phantomhive for this delicious dinner. I am feeling rather unwell, so I am afraid I must take my leave.” You almost lost your balance because of your vertigo, only caught the chair for support at the last moment.

Thin, but strong long fingers grabbed your wrist, forcing you to sit down beside him. “Oh no, my dear. I think you are exactly where you need to be.”

His...dear? What can he possibly mean by that? There are certainly many other suitable noble ladies available to him, why?

However, your mind starting to become cloudy, as you can no longer form coherent thoughts. Seeing you in such hazy state, a sinister smile forms on his lips, as he pulls your body into his embrace, slowly stroking your hair as you black out. Feeling you had been forced into a dreamless sleep, Ciel knows he had succeeded, as always. To be honest with himself, Ciel did abuse your trust, by seasoning your steak a little differently, but it is your fault for being so trusting of someone you only met once. Ciel had won this game, now he would gladly take the prize to the new bedroom he so thoughtfully prepared for you. You are going to love it, including his series of plans. The title of Lady Phantomhive suits a sweet person like you impeccably.

He had thought about this long and hard, and he came to a conclusion of the best way to repay you is to offer you a position you cannot possibly refuse. The position of Lady Phantomhive. He even upsetted Elizabeth for this! It should qualify as a decent compensation. Should you ever think it is not suitable, your parents would be a good place to start negotiating. You wouldn’t want anythnig happening to them, don’t you?

Now that Ciel understand how it is like to “love” someone romantically, he swears he is going to try his best to make you comfortable with him in this new home. Your presence would lighten the grim mood of this manor greatly. Easily swooping your unconscious body up bridal style, Ciel begin to walk up the grand staircase, towards the bedrooms. Maybe the manor could return to its former glory in the near future, with a happily married couple and their adorable little brats. He could have a family again! Doesn’t that sound just lovely?

#yandere #yandere black butler #yandere ciel phantomhive #yandere ciel #ciel phantomhive #black butler imagines #black butler #collab

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jiaraendgame · 4 years

Note

Hi! Can you write a little blurb about Rafe?? Maybe like his reaction to you deep cleaning your guys’ apartment and maybe you found a number or something? And he reassures you that it’s not what you think?? Idk something like that. You don’t have to if you don’t want to, thank you!

Wires Crossed Rafe x Reader

A/N: Lovely anon I’m sorry this took two days to finish up! Thank you so much for being the first person ever to ask me for a blurb! I had planned for it to be done way sooner, but uh I got a bit carried away. I am not good at writing anything small so oops! This is lowkey no longer a little blurb as requested but a full imagine/fic I hope you like this little adventure!

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of past drug abuse, baby angst, fluff, domestic Rafe. Non-canon Rafe IE he isn’t a murderer. Probs out of character a bit cause I lowkey usually write the psycho mean Rafe so this was a challenge but I enjoyed it!

Word Count: 3k+

It was no surprise you were up before Rafe was. You’d always been an early riser. However, when you awoke right as the sun just began to kiss your cheeks through the blinds, you knew you’d be waiting quite some time for your sleepy boyfriend to join you for the day. You look up at Rafe’s soft face. Mouth slightly ajar as faint hums of breath leave his lips. He looked so saintly at this moment. You didn’t want to disturb him, so you attempted to slip from his arms, but the motion caused the boy to stir. Curse his light sleeping, you thought. The boy's eyes softly fluttered open and gazed down at you as he instinctively pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Good morning, angel…” his voice slurred in its sleepy tone. “Where are you going so early this morning? It’s barely even…” He glances at the clock sitting on the nightstand. “Baby… it’s barely even 6:30am, don’t leave me yet.” He whines as he wraps his arms back around your torso.

You giggle at the pout on his face as he reels you in burying his face in your neck. You can feel his breath on your skin, tempting you to lay here with him for a moment longer. However, you knew if you didn’t get up now, you’d be late for the events Rafe had planned for the day.

“I didn’t mean to wake you, babe, I was just trying to prepare for today. Seeing as you haven’t told me any of the events you had in store. I need to be ready for anything with you.” A light giggle escapes your lips.

“ Just close your eyes again love, you can drift back off for a while, and in another hour or so, you can join me, okay? Just because I’m up doesn’t mean you have to be.”

“But baby doll, I want to make sure you are rested for the day I have planned. You know me and the boys can get a bit chaotic, I don’t need you getting worn out because of us.”

It’s true whenever Topper and Kelce visited from the Outer Banks, you were sure in for a rush of excitement that often ended up tiring you out. Unfortunately, you were the type of person who once you were awake, there was no way for you to fall back asleep. Even if you are comfortable and safe in the arms of your love.

The boy was drifting back to sleep, and you used this as your opportunity to free yourself from his loving grip. One more sleepy glance and sigh, leaving Rafe’s lips. He knew he has lost this battle.

“Looks like you’re the one who will need the rest babe, just sleep a bit more I will be out in the living room when you are ready to get up.” You whisper to Rafe placing a soft but chaste kiss to his lips. “Sweet dreams, my sleepy boy.”

He smiles as you pull away, “I’ll be dreaming of you, angel.” With that, it was not long before Rafe had fallen back into his slumber. You raise from the bed as softly as you can silently leave the bedroom, closing the door with a subtle click. Today was shaping up to be interesting if Rafe was this lovey-dovey in his sleepy state.

Looking around your small apartment, you began to realize that neither of you had cleaned for days. There was glassware and other miscellaneous dishes piled in the sink. Books and papers spread across the breakfast bar from your late-night study session. But the worst culprit was the living room. There were clothes on the floor next to the almost toppling hamper and throw blankets splayed across the back of the futon.

It’s not that you and Rafe were messy, quite the opposite usually, but as of late with everything going on, you both let your daily tasks slip your minds. The small one-bedroom apartment looked as if a tornado blew through it, and thus you found your distraction to keep you occupied until Rafe was ready to go to brunch. Topper and Kelce were visiting from the Outer Banks, and you couldn’t have them see your apartment in this state. Even if they were used to more luxurious accommodations, you didn’t want them to feel uncomfortable in your home. These were Rafe’s best friends, after all, you had to remind them that you could hang with the best of them even if you lacked the money they had.

Even though you had been with Rafe going on 3 years now, you worried you weren’t good enough for him. So you always went the extra mile to impress the people in his life. Even though you didn’t have to. Rafe loved you for you, and you found each other at the right time. You saved Rafe from his downfall of addiction. Taking him in when his father kicked him out. Saving him from himself and ultimately helping him grow as a person. He uplifted you and motivated you to work towards your dreams that you once believed would amount to nothing. He proved to you that you were worth more than the words of hate that your mother spewed to you daily. He pushed you to achieve the best, and now you are going for your degree in criminal justice. The final push you needed to go for your goal was witnessing Rafe break down when his father was sentenced for murder. That nearly sent the boy over the edge, but you pulled him back, and that was when Rafe knew you were the one. You two were like a puzzle that just clicked, fitting into place so perfectly it was frightening for both of you.

Sighing at the chores in front of you, you decide to tackle the kitchen first, cleaning the dishes while simultaneously getting water everywhere. This is why Rafe was in charge of the dishes. You always seemed to make more of a mess than you planned to. Rafe would always joke that you weren’t meant to be a housewife. After cleaning up the dishes and mopping up the new mess you created on the floor, your first task was done. Before wiping down the counters, you cleaned off and organized your notes and books from the breakfast bar. These were the times you really wished you had a house with its own study, much like Rafe’s childhood home. It was evident with the two of you living together for so many years that you started to run out of space. As you cleaned, things began to feel better, the atmosphere calmer.

You threw on a pot of coffee so it would be ready for when Rafe woke up, knowing he needed his caffeine before facing the day. Let’s just say if he didn’t get his morning cup, he was the poutiest and grumpiest of bears all day. You giggled to yourself, thinking back to the first time Rafe stayed over with you. You never drank coffee. It wasn’t your beverage of choice, but boy did you quickly invest in a small coffee maker when you saw him without caffeine. He stumbled out of your bedroom, groggy rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and subconsciously raided your cabinets for a mug. The shock on his face when you told him you didn’t drink coffee still makes you chuckle. He whined at you like a child until you took him to the nearest Starbucks. He was cute when he was grumpy, but boy did his childlike manner know how to get under your skin. This boy was no morning person.

Out in the living room, you started to gather up the throw blankets and folded them neatly, placing them inside the ottoman next to the futon. Sighing, you knew you had to attack the mountain of laundry next. You gathered the near toppling hamper and dragged it to the door so it would be ready to run down to the laundromat, but you couldn’t leave the excess pile on the floor. You grabbed an empty basket and started throwing clothes into it. A mix of sweatshirts, pants, polos, and crop tops quickly filled the small wicker basket The remaining items left behind are a pair of your jean shorts followed by a pair of Rafe’s khakis.

You picked up Rafe’s tan khaki shorts, and they feel heavier than normal. You dig your hand into his pockets and pull out the spare apartment keys that hung on a lanyard. Setting them on the table, you notice a torn piece of paper had slipped to the floor. You pick it up and see a number scribbled out on it. That was odd.

Why did Rafe have a random number in his shorts? Why didn’t he just keep it on his phone if he needed it? Who’s number was this? Was he using again? Your head spiraled, and panic set it. There was no way he’d hurt you, right? Not after everything you’ve two have been through. He loved you, right? You loved him.

You knew better than to panic, but those three little words swallowed your heart when you thought of Rafe, and if there was any chance, he didn’t feel the same you had to know. Against your better judgment, you pull your phone off the charger and start to dial the number. Hesitating before pressing send.

Ring

Click...

“Hello?”

You gulp at the sound of a sickeningly sweet voice that answered the phone.

“Uhm yeah hi, sorry, but w-who is this?”

“This is Stacey, who is this?” The sweet voice sounded just as confused as your thoughts were.

“I found this number in my b-“ you pause before finishing your sentence. Instead, opting for asking what you need to know.

“Do you know Rafe Cameron?” You blurt out the string of words connected by one fast breath.

“Oh! Rafe! Yes, of course, I know him. He’s such a cutie!” The voice rang out with a giggle.

“We spent some wild times together back in the day, but anyways I never caught your name or why you’re calling actually.” She spoke a hazed tone to her voice.

The line was silent. You didn’t know what to say or think anymore. Only one thought rang in your head. Rafe was cheating on you.

Before Stacey could speak again, you hung up the phone. A mix of hurt and angry tears slipping from your sockets. You couldn’t believe he did this. All the times he told you you were his only one had all been lies. Nothing made sense, and throwing 3 years of a relationship down the drain hurt more than you could have ever imagined.

You loved this boy with all your heart, and he shattered yours. Your emotions took over as if you were on autopilot. You watched your actions unfold from within. You picked up the basket of clothes and stormed into the bedroom. The doorknob hit the wall startling the sleeping boy, but before he could realize what was going on, you dumped the clothes onto him in a huff.

“Did ya lose something, babe?” You seethe through your teeth.

The groggy boy wiping sleep from his eyes stutters out, barely coherent words.

“Wh-What? What’s going on? Baby, are you okay?”

You scoff at Rafe, “Am I okay? Ha! I’d be a lot better if I had never found this fall out of your pocket this morning, asshole.”

You ball up and chuck the torn paper at Rafe, who looks from your beet-red face back to the paper. Eyes going wide at your discovery.

“You’re such an asshole, you know that? I can’t believe after everything you’d stoop so low Rafe Cameron.”

“I really fucking thought you’d changed, that you weren’t some arrogant prick who begged the world to praise the ground you walked on, but I guess I was wrong. Can take the boy from the Kooks but can’t take the Kook out of the boy.” You spat your words out.

“N-no baby, you don’t understand hold on just let me explain!”

“Explain what? That you cheated on me with some bitch named Stacey? That you held my heart in your hand and knowingly crushed it just to get your rocks off? Pathetic Rafe truly and utterly pathetic!”

Rafe was visibly upset, looking at you through glassy eyes. He didn’t want you to be hurt. That’s the last thing he wanted, but there was no way you’d listen to him that this was all just a big misunderstanding.

“Baby doll, please just take a few breaths. This is not what you think.” He sweeps his arms up and pulls your hands into his. You sit on the edge of the bed, avoiding his gaze.

“I swear to you I would never in my life do anything to hurt you. Babe, how could I? I love you more than anyone on this godforsaken planet.”

You looked over to Rafe, the anger you held, turning to pure sadness. You didn’t know what to think, so all you could do was listen.

He rubbed circles with his thumbs on the backs of your hands. Holding you tight. “You’re my person, baby doll. My only person. You came into my life when I was so lost. You picked me up when my father kicked me out. You got me to get clean and was with me through all the relapsing and withdrawals. You never left my side. Always faithful. I would never dream of breaking your heart when you’re the one who found mine.”

You sigh a shaky breath and look into your beautiful boyfriend's eyes, still just as lost, but you knew what he said was real. The warmth in your heart grew once more. Leaning into his touch, you speak with a sheepish tone.

“If this is a misunderstanding, then tell me the honest truth, Rafe. Who is Stacey, and why did you have her number?”

Rafe cups your face with his hands and looks you straight in the eyes.

“Y/N, I love you, okay?”

He waits a minute, and getting no response from you, he continues.

“Stacey is one of Sarah’s old friends from the Banks. We hung out a bit back in the day, but that was years ago. She was a big partier and a bit of an enabler. We would both do lines together and raise a bit of hell, but honestly, that's all our friendship was.”

“Okay... why are you talking to her now?”

“Well, baby, Sarah gave me her number because Stacey runs a well known... uh, business.” The hesitation in your boy's voice makes you wince. Was he lying again?

“And what kind of business are we talking about? Rafe, you told me you’d be honest. I-I can’t take the lying, please just be straight with me here.”

Rafe sighed as he was about to come clean, but luck was on his side. You hear the rough knock knock knock come from the front of the apartment. Your guests were here. You knew this was his escape plan now, hoping you wouldn’t bring anything up in front of his friends. Usually, he’d be right, but this time you weren’t letting him off the hook. Not with how hurt you were feeling.

Rafe and you both stepped towards the door, opening it to see two smiling faces. Topper and Kelce looked strangely eager.

“My boys! You couldn’t have come at a better time!” The shirtless and sweat-panted boy spoke ushering his friends in.

They exchanged hugs and a few quick whispers as you stood back arms crossed.

“So, do you two know about Stacey?” The words fall out of your mouth.

They look at her and back to Rafe, concern in their eyes.

“Uhh, I mean, we know Stacey from back in the day,” Kelce spoke openly.

“Yeah she was pretty cool, I wonder what she’s doing nowadays. Don’t see her around the Banks anymore, really.” Topper adds.

“Oh, I’ll tell you what she’s been up to. Her and Rafe have been talking ain’t that right handsome?”

Rafe sighs, eyeing the boys. Before he could speak again, you spoke up.

“So to continue our conversation, Rafe, what business is Stacey in, and why you have any interest in it?”

The two boys are wide-eyed. “Y/N really, there is something you're missing here.”

“Yeah, a real misunderstanding!”

“Oh, not you guys too! I can’t believe this. Why don’t you see what’s happened is wrong?”

“Baby doll, can I just say one more thing before you make up your mind in what has happened?”

“Fine... this better be good, Cameron.”

Rafe quickly turns to his boys, huddled up like they were having a meeting. Mumbles exchanged. Through the hushed tones, you managed to catch Topper asking Rafe if he was sure this was the right time and him replying he had no choice he couldn’t lose you.

Rafe turns around and looks you in the eyes, his hand hidden behind his back.

“Y/N, you mean the absolute world to me. You are my everything. You balance me in ways I never knew possible, and every day I wake up, I realize I love you more and more. I’ve grown so much with you in my life, and I wouldn’t beg for it to change. I want our lives to continue to keep growing together. I want our adventures to bring us to crazy places. I want to wake up every day with no doubt in my mind that you are truly and perfectly my girl. Forever. So please listen to me when I say, everything you are feeling right now is so incredibly false. I would never do anything to intentionally harm you. I love you so damn much Y/N, and that’s why I need to know...”

There is a pause as Rafe swiftly drops to his knee. Your mouth hangs open in complete shock. You are stunned at the sight in front of you as he brings his arm out front and opens up a small black velvet box. Inside, a dainty silver band holds a shining crystal clear diamond. Topper and Kelce beam behind the boy kneeling anxious for the next words that fall from his lips.

“Will you marry me?” Rafe’s eyes glass over once more, but not from hurt like earlier but with pure and resounding love for the girl in front of him.

Tears begin to slip from your eyes. You can’t believe you ever thought Rafe would take away all you have built together in the last three years. You felt the guilt in your stomach whirl. Unsure if you can accept the love and admiration coming from the boy you love knelt in front of you.

“Rafe... I am so... so incredibly sorry.” You sob out hands covering your face.

Rafe is up in seconds encasing you in his arms, laying a kiss on your hairline.

“Shh baby doll, it’s okay, I promise. I’m here. It’s okay, love. Don’t be sorry. I know it looked suspicious. I just wanted to surprise you.”

“I-I still don’t understand.”

Rafe chuckles a bit before explaining.

“My love, Stacey is an old friend from Outer Banks. She and Sarah are still pretty tight. And she happens to be in the business of custom jewelry... she makes some of the best work on the east coast.”

Realization dawns on you once more at how terribly you read the situation.

“I was in contact with her cause I wanted to make my girl a custom ring that was one of a kind, just for you and no one else. That’s part of the reason the boys came up. So they could deliver the ring to me.”

“I can’t believe I was so worked up, oh my god baby. I’m so sorry I never wanted to be the jealous girl, but I was just so, so heartbroken at the thought of losing you... I can’t lose you, babe.”

You stand silently inhaling the scent of the love of your life who you screamed at for trying to surprise you with the best gift you’ve ever received.

“So... does that mean she said yes or?” Topper and Kelce chuckle trying to defuse the awkward tension in the room.

You erupt into laughter, and so does Rafe. You wrap your hands around his neck, pulling his lips down to yours.

“Forever and always, baby... yes, I’ll marry you.” At that moment, you encompass him in a deep kiss, not caring you had company in the room. You were hungry for his love and embrace more than ever before.

You couldn’t wait to live the rest of your life with Rafe, and who knew what the future held for you both. One thing was for sure you would tackle it together face on because nothing mattered to you more than the bliss you felt for your one true love.

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sushireads · 4 years

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seokjin fic recs

this is a list of seokjin fics i’ve read and loved very much! enjoy. <3

ps. all fics with 🍙 are the ones i loved a little bit more.

2,561 Days by @gossamie

angst | one shot | 7.1K words

Two years of marriage could not stop the relationship from falling apart. As an attempt to seek closure before the divorce, Seokjin and you retrace your seven years together.

DIVORCE au

Carnival Rides by @geniuslab

fluff, smut | one shot | 11.4K words

Working at your parents’ funnel cake stand during the summer sounds like a decent enough gig. But you didn’t quite plan for the exhausting heat or the cute gelato guy who would make it his mission to get you to like him. Warning: This ride will get you wet!

SUMMER CARNIVAL au

change of pace by @httpjeon

smut | one shot | 3.2K words

Hardcore porn star Kim Seokjin begins his dabble in the world of vanilla porn. You’re his first co-star.

—part of the cockpile series

PORNSTAR au

Chrysanthenum by @yoonia

fluff | one shot | 2.7K words

CEO au

Club Zombie by @floralseokjin

smut, angst, fluff | one shot | 17.1K words

In a world overrun by zombies, you’d think everyone was a goner, but the reality is much different. A steady diet of brains lets a zombie exist as a fully functioning human. Just ignore the part where they’re technically dead… In fact, these days, the amount of zombies outweigh the humans. A lot jump at the chance to be turned. Beg for it.

Kim Seokjin controls the underground of Seoul. No one would dare cross him. That’s how most of the world goes these days. You wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of a zombie now, would you? However, you don’t quite see it like that. Spending most nights dancing at the club he owns, you catch his eye. It’s never the wrong side if you’re underneath him, right…?

—part of The Deadly Intentions collaboration

MAFIA, ZOMBIE au

dead leaves & wasted roses by @jamaisjoons

angst, smut | one shot | 6K words

“by sheer luck, or as if destiny bound as he liked to think of it, jimin had met you. and then, in a blink of an eye, and in a cruel twist of fate, he’d instantly lost you.”

COLLEGE, UNREQUITED au

Dear Ophelia by @n0irneko

smut | one shot | 3.6K words

The most dangerous people can be the most exciting…

CEO, KILLER au

Ephemeral by @donewithjeon

angst | one shot | 7.9K words

I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus by @lovetalkhendery

fluff | one shot | 4.4K words

CHRISTMAS, SINGLE PARENT au

in the mood by @kinktae

smut, fluff | one shot | 4.5K words

With the second world war finally over, soldiers are coming back home to their families, and famous Hollywood actor Seokjin is no different. Eager to get to babymaking with his wife but plagued by the need to re-establish himself in the film industry, Seokjin is to forced to engage in a more unconventional conception method.

—part of the rewind series

1940s, ACTOR, HOLLYWOOD, POST-WAR, WIFE au

Legacies by @btsracket

smut | one shot | 6K words

A newcomer is staying in the beach house next door and it’s criminal how well he fits in.

—part of BTS Smut Club’s Under Fire Summer Project

1980s, CON ARTIST au

Love Me and Leave Me by @littlemisskookie

🍙, smut, angst | one shot | 9.9K words

You had no objections when you heard of your engagement to a faraway prince. In fact, you were elated! Especially when you caught sight of his handsome face and charming personality. You could see yourself falling for him easily. The only problem? He’s in love with someone else.

ARRANGED MARRIAGE, ROYALTY au

Memoirs of a Mistake by @floralseokjin

🍙, smut, fluff, angst | series

A series of hook ups with Kim Seokjin, the college’s biggest fuckboy…

FRIENDS WITH BENEFITS, FUCK BOY au

MINE FOR TODAY by @httpjeon

angst, fluff, smut | one shot | 6.1K words

as part of a special valentines day sale, you make a bid in hopes to get a special discounted date with one of the dreamy bachelors of club ardor. you decide to choose The Romantic.

—part of the club ardor series

DATE FOR HIRE au

Once Bitten, Twice Shy by @fantasybangtan

fluff, humor | one shot | 15K words

working a twenty-four hour shift at the hospital was pretty low on the list of things you’d hoped to be doing on christmas eve. fortunately for you, doctor kim - golden boy of the ward and, coincidentally, your arch nemesis - is around to keep things interesting.

—part of @btswriterscollective‘s secret santa project

CHRISTMAS, DOCTORS, ENEMIES TO LOVERS au

plage. by @minflix

fluff, smut, humor | one shot | 10K words

The captain of Yonsei University’s swim team Kim Seokjin is pretty much head over heels in love with Y/N - the manager of his swim team.Too bad he can never seem to tell her how important she is to him because around her, the suave champion swimmer is like a fish out of the water.

SWIM CAPTAIN au

Royally Fucked by @couture-kookie

smut | one shot | 14.8K words

Kim Seokjin is a royal asshole. Literally. As the only heir to the throne of Cirenth he’s used to getting what he wants when he wants it. The only obstacle in his way is you, his rigidly moral assistant. He outranks you on both the social and hybrid hierarchies yet a shiver of fear runs down his spine whenever your claws come out. One rude interruption too many is the straw that breaks the camel’s back and he decides he must rid himself of you once and for all.

ROYALTY au

Starlet and Moonstruck by @jimlingss

fluff | series

As a newcomer actress struggling to make a name for yourself in the tough industry, you’re absolutely ecstatic to see your Dispatch pictures on the front page of Naver….but..what is this?! This isn’t about you! Who’s the third guy from the left?!

ACTRESS au

start anew by @gukyi

angst, fluff | one shot | 11K words

it’s been five years since you left your hometown, vowing never to return, but a simple invitation to a christmas party and a yearning to know whether or not you’re truly over the heartbreak you left behind has you wondering if, maybe, the christmas spirit and promise of a new beginning can change your mind.

CHRISTMAS, EX au

Strawberry Roses by @peekaboongi

fluff, smut, angst, fantasy | one shot | 7.5K words

When a chaotic man who claims to be a Cupid appears, your dull life is suddenly filled with laughter and strawberry roses. You’re just forgetting one important thing—magic never lasts past midnight.

or, chaotic but domestic Jin trying to teach you how to make strawberries resemble roses.

CUPID au

The Devil Wears Armani by @floralseokjin

🍙, angst, smut, romance | series | 65.3K words

You never imagined accidentally attempting to sell your soul to the devil would lead to this…

CEO, DEVIL au

The Leather Loafers by @jimlingss

fluff, humor | one shot | 11.2K words

Yes. You went to the ball. Yes. You ran into the prince. Yes. The shoe fits. BUT-! You aren’t that Cinderella bitch. THEY’VE GOT THE WRONG PERSON!

CINDERELLA, ROYALTY au

The NewsCasters by @jimlingss

fluff, smut | series

When Local and Celebrity news has to fight head on, who knows who will win. All you do know is that Kim Seokjin, the arrogant bastard that he is, might give you a hernia before your job does.

ANCHORS, RIVALS au

voice mail by @joonary

fluff, humor | one shot | 7K words

kim seokjin is best known around campus for his romance advisory podcast, voice mail, but to you, he’s just your lovable idiot of a best friend. but when he accidentally lets it slip that he’s fallen for one of your fellow peers, you can’t help but be a little bit curious (and quite frankly, a tad bit jealous).

—part of The Bound in Love collaboration

COLLEGE, FRIENDS TO LOVERS, PODCAST au

wash ‘n dry by @seokoloqy

fluff | one shot | 1.1K words

The one where Seokjin is the cute RA who catches you doing laundry at 1 AM and you both have time to kill.

COLLEGE, RESIDENT ASSISTANT au

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hyperfixationswithkate · 4 years

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connect | davey jacobs

reader x davey jacobs

[modern newsies au]

summary: It’s been two years since they spoke, and they need a wedding date. What could go wrong?

The opening of ‘You’re My Best Friend’ plays as you anxiously await for a response. The song he’d made his contact all those years ago as a joke but you’re too sentimental to let it go. You sprint across your apartment to grab it. “Hi,” you pant into the receiver. “As for your proposition, for you” your old friend said, “anything”. Your heartbeat races even faster at the thought of seeing him again. “Thank you” “See you then” He says and then the receiver clicks.

Almost a month and a half later, you sit on your couch waiting. Fidgeting with the hem of your shirt, you think about the last time you saw him. It was almost two years ago now. After graduation, you two had slowly grown apart. People thought you guys were made for each other, actual soulmates, but time is a cruel mistress. Romance was never a word you would use to describe your relationship with Davey. He was always your partner in crime, your best friend, never your boyfriend. Well not never, the amount of times you’d see him laugh or talking or just existing and imagine a world where you two weren’t just friends. But the possibility of love wasn’t worth risking a friendship over.

Somehow the idea of seeing him still makes you feel butterflies. Even though he recently moved to New York for a grad program, you didn’t reach out with the fear of being awkward or just wanting to leave things the way they were. But a friend’s wedding where they were desperate to meet your childhood friend after learning he’s in town and needing a date, a proposal arised.

It wasn’t a large wedding but large enough that you could leave early if things got weird. Getting cornered into bringing a guy you haven’t seen in years to a wedding where you barely knew the bride wasn’t the finest combo but it will have to do. All your worries and fears were pulled from your mind with a knock on the door. ‘Here we go’ you thought. You pull the door open with a deep breath as you see him.

Wow, college has done him well. Davey was always handsome but wow. Maybe time isn’t so criminal after all. Suits make anybody better but damn does he pull it off. “Hey, long time no see” he says, “shut up” you breathe as you hug him. The silk of the suit touches your face, you can smell the laundry detergent. The same one he’s used since he was a kid. The stale cotton smell fills your mind with nostalgia. Memories of crying into his shirt over god knows what, or borrowing a jacket from his car after a spring rain. A small smell brings you back to a past life, a completely different person, someone afraid of the endless possibility of the future. But his voice brings you back to the present. As he pulls away from the hug, he says “So y/n, what’s the plan?”

You two leave your apartment in an almost awkward silence. The fear of making things weird after two years of limited contact weights on you. As you approach his car, he says “so how did you get wrapped into a wedding?” You take a moment to reply and say “I barely know at this point, the groom is a friend of mine from my freshman writing class. His friend group is filled with frat boys and trust fund babies but he’s an alright guy and I am still easily peer pressured.” You ramble.

“You have a theme of finding the one alright guy in a group of animals” He says, winking at you. “A prime example being your juvenile posse from freshman year.” You say. Davey playfully gasps, acting offended. “Jack, Race, Romeo, and the rest of the goonies weren't exactly angels but they weren't heathens” He says in an overly dramatic tone.

He changes the subject before I can poke fun at his boys again saying “Me and Jack are sharing an apartment while I finish my double major and while he’s still doing random things to pay for art school. Some of the other boys are around town. It’s kind of homely though, especially through the first couple weeks. What was it like living somewhere completely new all on your own?” You think for a second and say “It’s kind of nice. Starting completely fresh. No one has any expectation of who you are. It was rough at first without anyone close but I was able to change without fear of ruining old friendships.” He nodded silently, definitely thinking about my statement and analyzing it like the over thinker he’s always been.

We sat in a comfortable silence as we approached his car. Davey takes two large steps to reach the car door before you, “M’lady” he says as he opens the door. The inside of his car smelled like a lemon air freshener and his dashboard was covered in post it notes with random things scribbled on them. “What are these?” you say, staring at the little notes. “Oh well they started by me forgetting things all the time and it evolved into the boys leaving notes every time they’re in here alone. I’m too sappy to take them down” He replies as he gets into the driver seat. ‘If you mess this up, I’ll deck ya. Love Race’ reads one of the notes. Davey notices you eyeing the note as he starts the car and says quietly “Race wrote that one about today. He really wants us to be close again so when I drive down here to see you, I pick up cheap weed for him.” ''God that's such a Race thing to do'' you say laughing. He makes nervous eye contact with you that makes you think that maybe weed wasn’t Race’s only motive for us meeting again. But Davey speaks before your mind can race too far off, “So what’s the address for this wedding venue?”

As we drive for a few minutes, Davey turns on the radio to fill the weird gap of silence between conversations and of course the first sing playing is “You’re my best friend” by Queen. The song about your partner being your best friend is playing, the song that could definitely be labeled as “our song” is playing, the universe is playing a cruel game on us today. Davey turns to you recognizing how significant this song is and says “You better remember all the words to this song” and of course I do. I reply by singing the opening verse very loudly. To which he does the exact same thing. As the song fades out, he says “I remember listening to that in high school. We used to sit on your bedroom floor and do homework while the whole Night At The Opera album played”. The nostalgia flooding back to you as his eyes focus back on the road. A particular memory stands out.

One night we were both studying for our AP Lit test in my bedroom. It was almost 2am and you’d been studying for hours. We snuck down to the kitchen for some snacks before the final haul of work. Running down the stairs your feet slip and Davey catches you in his arms. As you balance again, his arms don’t fall away and you turn to face him about to ask him if something is wrong. His eyes staring deeply into yours as you look at him and you savor the feeling of his warm hands on your arms. The moment quickly passed when your cat meowed very loudly at your feet, scaring the both of you apart. After raiding your kitchen, you two swiftly return upstairs to finish studying and hopefully avoiding another borderline romantic encounter for the evening. Once you close your bedroom door, Davey said “What’s your favorite record at the moment?”. He was trying to avoid studying but I didn’t really care. “Currently it’s A Night At The Opera by Queen. I just got it on vinyl and it’s definitely a winner” I say back. “Well then put it on” he says jokingly gesturing to the small record player in my room. “Alright mate” you mumble in a vague british accent knowing that’ll get him to laugh, and of course he does. You put on the record and the opening instrumental starts playing.

We study for most of the album, only interrupted by pages flipping, pencils scratching, yawning, and me flipping the record. By the end of the album, we’re both lying on the floor staring at the ceiling in exhaustion, the carpet touching my bare arms as the final notes fade out. “That was incredible,” Davey says quietly, turning to face me on the ground. “I know” I say nodding, leaning towards him. For a few seconds, we were close enough together we could have kissed. Staring at each other waiting for the other to make a move. He turns away, a fear of making things weird overcomes him. You can tell in his face that he regrets it the moment he turns.

The memory fades as the car stops at a red light. Turning to Davey as his eyes are fixed on the road, you see the side profile that you saw everyday at school. The slightly crooked nose that got broken from a flying book during lunch. The eyebrow that has a small scar above it from tripping at the city pool during freshman year. The pink blotch of color on his cheek that never seems to leave no matter the temperature. All these memories attached to him for better or for worse.

He notices you staring as he turns the corner. “What?” he says quietly, blushing. “Nothing, just thinking” you say equally as quiet. “About what?” he almost whispers. Just as you panic about what to say, the GPS says “You have arrived at your destination”

#davey jacobs #davey x reader #davey jacobs x reader #davey jacobs modern au #newsies #newsies musical #davey jacobs fluff #davey jacobs angst #connect #fic #gender neutral reader #please give me feedback

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erisbaek · 4 years

Text

Stucky Fic Rec [Part One]

So I decided to split the fic recs up into parts because they will be too long otherwise. In each part I will link the Google Doc that I am typing them up in, which is where I will constantly update as I read. Within these fic recs, they’re mostly my preferences, so very few (if any) Shrinkyclinks, and ABO fics will be within them, as well as shorter fics, since I actively seek fics out that are longer than 10k (and completed)!!

The Google Doc Link: https://docs.google.com/document/d/10wqr5s-CzkFzLidQgt-y4-cjudHWwVeVPWCedMjK7t0/edit?usp=sharing

The first part is formatted under the cut, if you’d prefer to stay out of the doc!

Lightning in a Bottle

Word Count: 63k Rating: Explicit Notable Tags: Shrunkyclunks, Road Trip!AU, Angst with Happy Ending Warnings: Smut, Smoking Synopsis: The problem, Steve thinks, isn’t so much his motorcycle giving up the ghost on a lonely stretch of highway through a lonely stretch of the country. He doesn’t mind stretching his legs or the prospect of hitchhiking. The problem is the roiling black blanket of storm clouds slowly spreading itself over the landscape headed his direction… Steve Rogers is looking to hitch on a highway abandoned by everyone smart enough to avoid a looming storm. Bucky Barnes is the professional storm chaser who offers him a ride.

It gets more complicated from there.

Perspective and Truth

Word Count: 16.7k Rating: Teen and Up Notable Tags: Bodyswap!AU, Emotional Hurt/Comfort Warnings: None Synopsis: Bucky and Steve end up swapping bodies and learning a lot more about each other in the process

Carbs and Conversations

Word Count: 48k Rating: Teen and Up Notable Tags: Hockey!AU, No Powers Warnings: None Synopsis: Bucky was just looking for a chance. A chance to get on the ice and play. A chance to escape from Hydra. A chance to redeem himself. He didn't include 'A chance to be friends with Steve Rogers' on the list. That would be ridiculous. Lucky for him, Steve seemed determined to be ridiculous.

So Loud and So Clear

Word Count: 26.6k Rating: Mature Notable Tags: Get Together, Slow Build Warnings: None Synopsis: Bucky had been careful, after all, leaving no trace of his comings and goings. It was horrendously disappointing to know that Rogers had found him. Bucky was a lot better than getting caught by a guy who wore the American flag as a onesie. He just really was. “Don’t you – Bucky – Bucky,” Rogers started, and to Bucky’s growing horror, it looked like Rogers was on the verge of some type of emotional eclipse. Anger, sadness, something, and Bucky wanted nothing to do with it. “Hate to break it to you, bud, but I don’t remember ever living here and I don’t remember you.”

A Loyal Viewer

Word Count: 36.1k Rating: Explicit Notable Tags: Camboy!Steve, Punk!Bucky, No Powers, Long Distance Relationship Warnings: Smut Synopsis: At almost exactly eight thirty in the evening, Steve settles on the bed before his camera and the computer. He signs into his account on Chaturbate and clicks the button that starts his stream.

In My Conditions, Love’s the Best Physician

Word Count: 9.1k Rating: Not Rated Notable Tags: Shrunkyclunks, Pharmacist!Bucky, Russian!Bucky Warnings: None Synopsis: ”This situation is a little more delicate because I don't even know if he speaks English and I'm tired of going down to the pharmacy for constipation medication and allergy pills when I haven't sneezed since 1941.” Steve shouts. The room falls silent, and he turns back around to find four pairs of stunned eyes watching him. Tony, as always, speaks first. “He?” - Or the one where Bucky is a hot pharmacist and Steve keeps making up bullshit reasons to go see him.

Rare Is This Love (Keep It Covered)

Word Count: 66.7k Rating: Explicit Notable Tags: Shrunkyclunks, Mechanic!Bucky, Slow Burn Warnings: Smut, Canonical Character Death Synopsis: It's 2014. Captain America has been out of the ice for three years and is trudging along, saving the world and trying to get used to living in the future. Steve thinks he knows how the rest of his life is going to pan out – a life of duty, which he chose when he signed up to be Erskine’s science experiment. But then, he meets Bucky Barnes: the out-of-this-world-gorgeous mechanic and war vet, who turns Steve’s life upside down and makes him question everything he thought he knew. Slowly, Steve comes to realize there is more to life than duty and punching Nazis. Just one problem though: how on earth does a 96-year-old virgin who only just realized he may not be entirely straight make the transition from crush to relationship? Cue healthy amounts of self-doubt, awkward flirting, pretty blushing, existential crises, emotional growth, and maybe, possibly, a sexual awakening.

Looking For A Place To Hide

Word Count: 33.3k Rating: Explicit Notable Tags: Endgame Fix-It, 2012!Steve Warnings: Smut Synopsis: It's 2012 and all Steve knows is that another version of himself said Bucky is alive. Steve will do anything to get his friend back, even if it means time traveling to 2023. He expects Bucky to be happy to see him, but instead he's wary, hurt. Turns out his Steve had left him for Peggy. How? Why? Steve can't believe it. Now he'll have to find a way to make sense of it all, and convince Bucky that it's the two of them to the end of the line.

The Wolf and the Sheep

Word Count: 50.5k Rating: Teen and Up Notable Tags: Shield Agent!Steve, Winter Soldier!Bucky Warnings: None Synopsis: Steve Rogers is a SHIELD agent who is recruited for a secret project: Becoming a handler for the Asset. Steve’s world is thrown for a loop when he discovers the Asset is an actual person and he needs to figure out who he is and what he’s going to do.

All Those Little Pieces

Word Count: 40.5k Rating: Mature Notable Tags: Alternating POV, Post CATW Warnings: Smut, Panic Attacks Synopsis: Steve has never forgotten Bucky Barnes. Not their childhood together, not the horror of the moment Bucky fell too far for him to reach, and not the way he's loved him all the while. Bucky has forgotten everything about Steve, at least at first. But there's still a feeling there, warm in his chest—and maybe now that he's found his way back to Steve Rogers and his sunny apartment, there's a chance it might turn into something more.

My Dear

Word Count: 29.9k Rating: Explicit Notable Tags: Post CATWS, Recovery Warnings: Smut Synopsis: The Soldier stares down at the floor, breathing hard through his nose. “And you still wanna fix me,” he says. Steve shakes his head. “There’s nothing to fix, Buck. I just want to bring you home.”

Living On My Own

Word Count: 26.1k Rating: Mature Notable Tags: Vigilante!Bucky Warnings: Blood and Gore Synopsis: James Barnes is back in the world and finds that not only has there been 1) an alien invasion, but 2) Howard Stark had a kid. One that dispenses unsolicited life advice, no less. Oh, and 3) Captain America is alive again, after getting himself killed by his own recklessness in a move so stupid only Steve could have come up with it. In which James learns to do laundry, turns into an accidental neighborhood vigilante and makes Tony Stark a happy grease monkey, all while he figures out where to stake his claim.

Chase the Lighting From the Sky

Word Count: 39.4k Rating: Explicit Notable Tags: No Powers, Age Gap, Farm!AU Warnings: Smut, Past Character Death, Animal Death Synopsis: If Bucky has to be stuck doing this ridiculous summer work program before his senior year of college, on a ranch in the middle of nowhere, then at least he’s got a hot as hell cowboy for a boss and host. Steve Rogers, owner of the Truth & Justice Ranch, is what Bucky’s completely theoretical but very imaginative bisexual fantasies are made of. Steve’s a widower though, and a nice guy in need of help, and no doubt 100% straight… so Bucky’s gonna work his ass off and keep his head down. But neither Bucky nor Steve are prepared for the friendship that forms between them as they work side by side. And they certainly aren’t expecting the budding feelings, confessions, and passions that summer heat and the loneliness of the great open plains stirs in each of them. What rages to life between them will shake each man to his core and will linger long after the storms and the summer have passed.

Cinder and Smoke

Word Count: 51.7k Rating: Explicit Notable Tags: Sheriff!Steve, Blacksmith!Bucky, Old Western Warnings: Smut, Period-Typical Homophobia, OC Death Synopsis: “They say there’s no law in Parasapa. Is that true?”

Art Thief, Heart Thief

Word Count: 58.8k Rating: Mature Notable Tags: FBI!Steve, Thief!Bucky Barnes Warnings: Smut Synopsis: Agent Steve Rogers is facing a series of art thefts that has him stumped, and looking for a break in the case. Convicted art thief and general high end criminal Bucky Barnes wants to make parole and happens to know all of the right people who could make Steve's job easier. So they strike a deal, mutually beneficial and entirely business. But a few days undercover, an undeniable growing chemistry, and some ill-timed Feelings entering the mix, and all bets are off.

Laws of Thermodynamics

Word Count: 14.6k Rating: Explicit Notable Tags: Post CATWS, Recovery Warnings: Smut Synopsis: He never had to relearn how to love Steve Rogers. It might be the one thing he never forgot.

Abstract Art

Word Count: 26.6k Rating: Teen and Up Notable Tags: Friends to Lovers, Artist!Steve, Ex Sniper!Bucky Warnings: None Synopsis: They survive almost a year of torture together, cells side by side, banter and teasing and stories. They keep each other alive. Then everything changes. They tell Bucky that Rogers's been killed. He tries to piece his life together, to move on. Steve owns an art store. He's given up looking. It's over. Except it's really not.

We Discovered Gold

Word Count: 18.7k Rating: Explicit Notable Tags: Post CACW, Fix-It, Wakanda Warnings: Smut Synopsis: “So you got these safe houses scattered all over Russia?” Steve jokes into the soft hair over Bucky's temple, not pulling away, “Or did we just get lucky?” Bucky shakes his head and then replies, “Got myself a few. It’s been a long two years.” “Yeah pal,” Steve nods, burrowing further, “I hear that.”

Never Mind to Hold

Word Count: 21.6k Rating: Mature Notable Tags: Soulmate!AU, Not CACW Compliant, Soulmarks Warnings: Brief Suicidal Ideation Synopsis: Steve didn't know the name of Bucky's soulmate. He wasn't even sure when it had appeared across Bucky's heart. But Steve knew it wasn't his name hidden under that patch.

Where There’s Smoke

Word Count: 95.1k Rating: Explicit Notable Tags: Firefighter!AU Warnings: Smut Synopsis: Steve is a Brooklyn firefighter who is about to be saddled with a new, rookie crewmate. James Barnes is that rookie, just looking for a fresh start at a new station. Steve's friends think they know what's best for him...start dating his new crewmate. Steve thinks they're crazy...or possibly right. But events from James's recent past may pose a threat to any designs they have on each other.

Let Them Eat Cake

Word Count: 31k Rating: Explicit Notable Tags: Shrunkyclunks, Pastry Chef!Steve, Sommelier!Bucky Warnings: Smut, Drug Use Synopsis: Steve picked up the piping bag and returned to the ramekins. Bucky left, though not without shooting one last look at Steve's wide back. Bucky could already tell Steve Rogers was trouble, not even counting the near-religious experiences he inspired among the staff. It wasn’t that Bucky didn’t appreciate him as well; he did. He just tended to appreciate people he found attractive from afar, because explaining the metal arm was hard, and because he didn’t really know how to handle letting someone in close. But that wasn’t why Steve was trouble, not really. Bucky wanted to know why their new pastry chef had gun calluses on his right hand.

Adrenalize Me

Word Count: 58.5k Rating: Explicit Notable Tags: Vampire!Steve Warnings: Smut, Blood Synopsis: Leaning against the side of a wall, taking an indolent drag of a cigarette, there he stood. Watching Bucky with an inscrutable gaze. Staring at Bucky for long seconds, the blond seemed to consider him before breaking the silence. “You know, nice guy like you walking alone at this hour – people might think you were looking for trouble.” Trying not to shudder at the sound of that voice, which wrapped around him like smoke, Bucky managed a smirk, lifted a brow. “Well, if I was, it looks like I found it.” Two strangers meet in a dark club. One just happens to be a vampire.

The Change in Us

Word Count: 23.4k Rating: Explicit Notable Tags: N/A Warnings: Smut Synopsis: “I’ve found your BFF,” Stark says without preamble. “My… what?” “James Barnes. Winter Soldier. Bucky. I don’t know, I don’t care, but right now he’s perched on the roof of the next building with a gun on me, and it’s not so much my idea of a relaxing afternoon, so could you get down here?” Steve hangs up and starts running.

Things That Go Bump in the Night

Word Count: 38.2k Rating: Explicit Notable Tags: Shrunkyclunks, Ex Army!Bucky Warnings: Minor Smut Synopsis: Many an odd critter and item have ended up on the front porch of the property Bucky house-sits in the Middle Of Nowhere, but a bleeding blond man is a first. A short inspection reveals the man to be none other than Steve Rogers; ex-Captain America, vigilante, and a wanted fugitive. Steve’s stay of a few days of recovery is prolonged, under instructions for him to lie low until the Avengers can sort out the mess that has become the Sokovia Accords. Bucky is pretty sure that he’s committing an act of treason by providing Steve a place to stay. He is also pretty sure that lengthy interaction with Steve makes one prone to impending headaches and possibly ulcers. And he is certain that he is, very assuredly, in danger of falling in love with Steve.

The Soldier’s Revenge

Word Count: 76.4k Rating: Explicit Notable Tags: Canon Divergence, Enemies To Lovers, Slow Burn Warnings: Smut Synopsis: Bucky Barnes turns himself in to SHIELD two years after dragging Captain America out of the Potomac River. He was deprogrammed in Wakanda and has been hunting down Hydra ever since, but he needs help if he wants to take proper revenge on his captors. He turns to his old enemies: SHIELD and the Avengers, but it'll take more than a few words to win their trust after the Winter Soldier brought SHIELD to its knees not long before. Now at SHIELD's mercy, the only thing that stands between Bucky and his revenge is the approval of Captain Rogers: a self-righteous asshole that Bucky barely knows.

The Best Way to Wake

Word Count: 42.2k Rating: Explicit Notable Tags: Canon Divergence, Slow Burn Warnings: Smut Synopsis: James Buchanan Barnes lay in a glass pod in the middle of the table, frozen since he fell. Steve’s hands were on the glass before he realized he’d moved. “Wait, Captain!” “Get him out,” Steve whispered, his hands searching for a clasp, a keypad, something. “Captain, we need to keep him in stasis—“ “I said get him out!” In which Bucky Barnes lay frozen in the Alps for seventy years only to be woken up a year after Steve Rogers was uncovered from the Arctic.

Latte Art and Slow Dancing in the Dark

Word Count: 89.5k Rating: Explicit Notable Tags: Age Difference, CIA!Steve, Barista!Bucky, Sugar Daddy!Steve Warnings: Smut Synopsis: Bucky is a somewhat well-adjusted former army sniper that got his shoulder blown out. He took his discharge and went home to finish school and is working on his international relations masters. His best friends and roommates (Nat & Clint) are CIA agents and tip him off that their local Sbux is hiring. He gets a job there and meets none other than the hottest guy on earth. So how does one get a date in the most top secret government location in the US? What happens when that guy is more than just a hot dorito and wants to give Bucky everything he wants? Bucky is going to have to figure out his shit and fast. That's what's up.

Laughter Lines

Word Count: 100.2k Rating: Mature Notable Tags: Bodyguard!AU, Slow Burn Warnings: None Synopsis: Bucky Barnes is a rising Hollywood star with a tragic past and a reputation for driving his bodyguards away. Steve Rogers is a veteran with the same tragic past and the need to get back out in the world. The two of them have been estranged since they were teenagers, so when Steve joins SHIELD as a bodyguard, he is less than thrilled when he finds out that Bucky is his first assignment. But how bad can it be? They're both professional adults, right?Wrong.

From Hydra with Love

Word Count: 21.2k Rating: Mature Notable Tags: Spies!Steve and Bucky Warnings: Smut Synopsis: Captain Steve Rogers is one of the best spies in the world - a marksman, a martial artist, an expert in strategy and tactics. There's not a lot he can't handle. Heck, he's even saved the world once or twice. So why does every run in with the mysterious Winter Soldier leave him feeling like the Bond Girl?

Goddamn Electric

Word Count: 67.8k Rating: Explicit Notable Tags: Bodyguard!Steve, Musician!Bucky Warnings: Drug Use, Alcohol Use, Smut Synopsis: Steve Rogers works for a discreet private security company and gets assigned to James Barnes, a musician who takes the idea of 'sex, drugs & rock 'n roll' just a little too seriously.

There Was Something About Steve Rogers

Word Count: 46.7k Rating: Explicit Notable Tags: Post CATWS Warnings: Smut, Panic Attacks Synopsis: The Winter Soldier knows Steve Rogers has deep feelings for Bucky Barnes, and decides that he can use that to his advantage to gain protection from the Hydra agents still trying to find him. What he didn't bargain for was actually starting to care about the man they call Captain America, or the strength of Bucky Barnes' memories as they begin to resurface.

Through the Mist

Word Count: 14.5k Rating: Teen and Up Notable Tags: Soulmate!AU, Post CATWS Warnings: None Synopsis: He usually kept it covered. Whether it be with long sleeves, a cuff of some sort, or make up Natasha skillfully showed him how to apply. He didn’t cover it up because he was ashamed or because he was one of those people who didn’t like others knowing who his soulmate was- no. He covered it up out of respect. Respect for his fallen partner, and respect for himself because he knew looking at those swoopy lines of James B. Barnes on his wrist always made him crumble like his legs were kicked down. When he crashed into the ice all those years ago he thought he was going to see Bucky again- he thought he was finally going to be with Bucky without people giving them ugly looks and throwing slurs their way. He thought he was going to be happy again.

Take Me Home

Word Count: 78.1k Rating: Mature Notable Tags: Shrunkyclunks, Veteran!Bucky Warnings: Smut, Torture, Referenced Suicide Synopsis: “I’m so sorry, I’m gonna help you I promise, just don’t move, fuck, I ran over Captain America–” the man apologized, over and over, and all Steve managed to say was, “You’re really attractive,” before passing out on the guy’s lap in the middle of the road.

Where the Circle Ends

Word Count: 29.8k Rating: Mature Notable Tags: Zombie Apocalypse!AU Warnings: Smut, Gore Synopsis: In which the world has gone to hell in a zombie apocalypse handbasket and, in the middle of it all, Steve finds the one person he never thought he'd see again. Angst and feelings (amongst other things) ensue.

Our Souls (They Were Made to Last)

Word Count: 53.8k Rating: Mature Notable Tags: No Powers, Veteran!Steve, Doctor!Bucky, Ghost!Bucky Warnings: None Synopsis: Dr. James Barnes is too busy saving lives to actually have one of his own. When he finally agrees to go on a blind date, he gets into an accident that will change his life forever. Retired Army Captain Steve Rogers is depressed, and when he moves into his new apartment he finds it already occupied....with the ghost of its last tenant. To make matters worse, the ghost is adamant that he's not dead. As they navigate their way through their new living arrangements, can they save each other, before it’s too late? Or have they missed their one shot at a happy ending?

By Any Other Name

Word Count: 36.9k Rating: Explicit Notable Tags: Assassins and Hitmen!AU, Spies and Agents!AU Warning: Smut Synopsis: Steve was a good spy. It turned out one good spy didn't stand a chance against a rival security firm, a contract killer, and his own heart.

#stucky #stucky fic rec #stucky fic #stevebucky #stevebucky fic #starbucks #wintershield #steve rogers #james barnes #bucky barnes #the winter soldier #captain america #marvel

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thesleepy1 · 3 years

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Bundle Of Joy

A/N: A nine hour shift and five hours of sleep later, this fic is based off of a headcanon by @riddlersboyfriend Go blame him for the angst because it's not my fault this time! Hahaha, the power I hold and the lack of sleep behind my eyes makes a perfect combination for fic writing. Unbeta’d because of obvious reasons. :D

“i am currently thinking VERY hard about a post-reichenbach mormor au where,,, idk, sebastian finds a baby?? somewhere?? decides to raise them?? just sad heartbroken sebastian putting his all into caring for this tiny little scrap because he doesn't know what else to do (help me)”

Pairings: past Sebastian Moran x Jim Moriarty

Summary: Jim Moriarty is dead, Sebastian had people confirm it. With his handler gone, there isn’t much reason to go on. Picking up a gun is too difficult for Sebastian these days so he decides on a high bridge, but before he can go through with it the sound of a crying baby draws his attention from the railing.

Word count: 4,688

Warnings: post-reichenbach, suicide attempt, alcohol abuse, smoking abuse, mention of child death, foul lanague,

It was cold and foggy, that much Sebastian could recall from that night. Windy from his memories, because he had forgone a coat, he was planning on jumping off a bridge, a coat was useless in that situation. The cold was accepted. The sound of the river far underneath him could be heard because of the ungodly time or night. Or very early in the morning. Sebastian couldn’t tell before and he could hardly tell now.

There was frost on the railings, so cold underneath his hands that his fingers grew numb. Sebastian didn’t know why, but he had chosen to do this sober. Less chance of surviving the fall if he had to guess. A good beer would only loosen his body, he’s survived car crashes before from over drinking. Best if he did this quickly, no need to prolong his suffering anymore than he had.

Jim had granted him some extra years that he would not have originally given himself, and while they were not the happiest of memories, he had lived a life worth giving a damn about. Not enough to keep the great consulting criminal alive, but enough to look back upon and think, “I did this, I’ve lived this life.” Not anything to be proud of by any means, but it was a life worth considering.

Perhaps that was one of the reasons Sebastian hesitated then, on the other side of the railing. Or perhaps it had been the sound of a shrieking baby.

His head had whipped around, assuming that some mother on a late walk was trying to convince him not to take his own life. But he came up short. There was no one there, just the endless sound of tears and a scream that belonged to powerful lungs. It just won’t stop, the crying. The tears from this helpless thing that he could not see. He was going insane, that was the only explanation. The shrieks of the babe sounded too much like the ones in his own head, the sharp thrill of it that assaulted his ear drums.

“Shut up, shut up, shut up!”

The crying didn’t stop, instead it was spurred on by his yelling. Sebastian didn’t know why but he swung his leg back over the railing to investigate where exactly the noise was coming from. Quite frankly he had nothing better to do and he could jump off the bridge at any given time. This mere intervention won’t take long to deal with.

He walked the concrete path besides the road, hand on the railing so when he was done looking around he could fling himself over with a jump. The rush of water against his ears would be a welcomed sound instead of the racket of some overgrown sperm. The relief of it would have him smiling.

“Mama!”

Sebastian followed the distinct word like a bloodhound, the babe’s voice becoming more and more clear as he neared a little wicker basket next to a rubbish bin. It was stereotypically really, something out of one of Jim’s dramatic French films. An abandoned baby in a basket.

But it wasn’t a baby. At least not anymore. Sebastian didn’t have much experience with kids, except with his younger brother. But they were twins with a smacking difference of twelve minutes. However, Sebastian knew enough to know that this was at the very least a toddler, a no less than a year old kid.

That someone had left to die next to a literal trash can.

The kid looked up at Sebastian when he approached. She had these big beady brown eyes filled with tears that made her look so small. They drew you in like quick sand and before Sebastian knew it, he was stuck. He stared at her as much as she stared at him. Her dark brown hair was ear length, matted and covered with dirt and grime. There were little puncture wounds on her earlobes like she had earrings once upon a time; but there was a slight tear at the edge as if they were so hastily removed that her ears were a little ripped. Someone must have been very desperate to be so rash with a little kid that could barely talk.

Sebastian’s fists curled at the state this kid was left in. Even her clothes looked like patchworked rags with poorly sewn seams. Tears made streaks through a dirty face. The night was so cold without a drink. It felt numbing with a jacket a size too large. The kid must be paralyzed. Anger radiated off of Sebastian before he knew what he was doing, a low frustration growl left his chest.

How dare they be abandoned.

The little girl sucked in a breath at the noise Sebastian made. He imagined what he must look like to her, a big, tall, scary blonde white man with enough scars on his face to be mistaken for a pin cushion. But instead of bursting into more tears like most people did, most grown adults did, her mouth curled up into a smile before the most heart wrenching sound had Sebastian on the ground.

Sebastian Moran picked up the little kid with as much care as a train assassin had. He cradled her close to his chest, tucking her head underneath his chin. She laughed again against the funny feeling of his months-old beard. It was contagious, her snuggling close and laughing as if she was not left for dead. This kid barely learned how to process words and she was already twice the man Sebastian will ever be. Sebastian joined her laughter, the sound was so foreign in his mouth that he surprised himself with the sound.

“Joy Moran isn’t that bad of a name, is it?”

-----

Sebastian’s flat was not equipped to handle a kid. It was hardly equipped to handle him on a good day and with how long he had been without Jim, his house was in a worse state than he was. Which was saying a lot because he had just adopted a kid from the dumpster.

Suffice to say, some changes had to be made.

Sebastian had brought the basket from the bridge. He’d made a note to burn it after he got a better carrier but for now that was where Joy was currently laying down for a nap. Her own clothes were dirtier than he was after missions so they had to go. For the time being Joy was wrapped up in his own clothes, the few clean ones still left hanging. He left her on his sofa after clearing away some of the beer bottles for room.

Then he turned up the radiator and began the most torturous thing known to man, cleaning after his own mess.

Joy softly cooed in her sleep and while it was the cutest thing, she was no help to Sebastian. “Traitor,” he muttered under his breath so as not to wake her.

Blaming a toddler wasn’t going to make himself feel any better, so for the first time in a long time, Sebastian did something for himself. He went around his small flat picking up trash; beer bottles to six different brands because the depressed man needed variety, too many empty cigarette boxes, the butts themselves, old take-out boxes to the three same places that had grown mold, dirty laundry, and the most important thing to pick up, his weapons.

By the time he had locked all of his equipment in the space between the walls the glaring sun was up. It was around noon if Sebastian had to guess. Never being the type of person inclined to cleaning, it had taken him much longer than most to go through the list of chores, cleaning the dishes, tidying the kitchen, making his bed, doing the laundry, and onwards. A truly endless list that Sebastian gained respect for the people who did this on a daily basis.

Fortunately, Joy had slept through it all, surprisingly soundless when she had made it very evident that she had a voice that demanded to be heard. She was just silent through it all. Sebastian didn’t vacuum because he was afraid to wake her, but he wasn’t being quiet either. Worry grew from the pit of his stomach like a lead beanstalk. He had never ran so quickly to the couch, to the too still wicker basket with Joy laying in the middle wrapped in his clothes.

Silence. He couldn’t hear a single coo or little baby gurgle. No movement. Sebastian reached out his trembling hands, pulling the bundle of clothes and the still body out of the basket. Sunshine came in through the open windows, but Sebastian felt as cold as the early morning. She was so small. And Sebastian could count the times he held her on one hand. They had only known each other for hours, perhaps half a day, but Sebastian had hoped for more.

He-

He thought he had more time. That he would watch this little bundle of goodness grow into her own person. Watched as she experienced the world and made it her own, watch the light in her big brown teddy bear eyes. Be her guide when he was without anyone to confide in, be the person he had needed when he was young. Make damn sure that she had the best life that he could provide because this kid deserved the world and more. When Sebastian needed her the most she was there. And the babe didn’t even realize it, couldn’t even comprehend how much she meant to him in such a short amount of time.

Sebastian was violently shaking. His little bundle of joy. Why wasn’t he allowed this one mercy? When so many before him had done what he did, had killed more than he could begin to imagine. Worse men who twisted and nurtured human greed and malice like animals; who’ve done so much worse. Why did they get to feel like they belong? Why did those monsters get to feel loved and remembered? All Sebastian wanted was to do one good thing. One selfish, greedy thing.

Tears fell from his eyes as he brushed the dark wisps of her hair from her face. Dirt still clung to her face, the tear streaks showing soft brown skin underneath. Sebastian brushed the grime from her chubby cheeks, his burning tears trickling down to her face. Once the tears had started, they couldn't stop. He was sobbing, sucking in air like he was drowning and in a way he was already dying.

“I’m- I’m so sorry,” he croaked to the babe in his arms, to the little bundle who shone like glass in the sunlight. “I didn’t mean for it to end this way. I’m so sorry, Joy. I couldn’t do more for you.”

The loudest sneeze Sebastian had ever heard made his heart fly out of his chest. Joy was so small but her lungs were too big for her little toddler body. She took one look at Sebastian’s hideous crying face and began shrieking herself. Sebastian had never been happier to hear her cry.

“It’s okay, Joy, it's okay,” he cooed in a soft voice he didn’t know he was capable of. The crying must have done someone to his voice box. “Papa’s got you.” He gently rocked her as he stood up. “No one can hurt you,” he soothed, walking over to his quaint kitchen. The kitchen sink was filled halfway with warm water and soapy, scented bubbles for sensitive skin. Sebastian had once liked to treat, had cared about how his skin smelt and felt.

“We’re going to get you cleaned up, okay?” Sebastian made sure the water wasn’t too hot and gently set Joy in the sink. He wiped his tears away with a dish rag and faced his little bundle of joy with a soft smile on his face. It contoured his scars in a funny way, he knew from pictures Jim had kept on his phone. Joy seemed to like it as well because she had stopped crying in favor of splashing bubbles onto Sebastian to keep the smile one his face. “Papa loves you so much, kiddo.”

-----

There used to be a time where Sebastian was hyper aware of time. The very passage of it he could feel under his feet, the turning of the world made known by the twisting sun and moon. Every second was accounted for, his way of coping then. A little stopwatch to see how long he could last before the thought of some good, strong rope became too tempting to pass up. But with Joy Moran in his life, time flew by in the blink of an eye. A year had passed since the day Joy had entered his life and he barely felt it.

He could see it though; could hear it every morning when he woke up, every afternoon when he ate, every night before he went to bed. In the blink of an eye Joy had grown a year older. She ran through their little flat any chance she got, she sang from the top of her lungs so everyone could hear, and she grabbed for anything she could get her little hands on. And for a two year old with a pair of lungs twice the size they needed to be, she was quite quiet when she wanted to be.

Especially, when a stranger with her papa’s face showed up at the door.

“What’s wrong, Bundle?” Sebastian asked from his hiding place behind the currents. He had yet to win a round of hide-and-seek ever, and while Joy liked to go easy on him in the fourth round or so just to make things fair, she was never this quiet when they played. “Joy?” Sebastian called out again, leaving his hiding place in favor of going down to his knees to be on Joy’s level. “Everything alright?”

Joy shook her head, the ribbons that Sebastian spent too long on flapping like bunny ears. “You’re at the door,” she whispered, which was an occurrence once in a leap year.

“I’m right here, Bundle,” Sebastian tried to reassure, pulling her in for a hug just to prove his point. He let go and patted her head teasingly. “Do you want me to hide in the doorway?” Sebastian joked, glancing at the door just as the handle turned.

In a heartbeat Sebastian had Joy in his arms and sprinted to the wall where his equipment was kept. He positioned himself against a corner with a vantage point over the door and the windows, a loaded handgun sliding into his waiting hand after he pounded the wall. Joy hid her face in the nook of his neck, her arms wrapped around his neck. How she had known there was someone at the door when even Sebastian hadn’t heard the tell tale signs was a topic for a different day. Right now, his focus was on the intruder that could pick his locks without making even the smallest of sounds.

“You should-”

Sebastian pulled the trigger before he realized who was in the doorway. Joy shook in his arms in fear but she held in her yell like a champ, not giving herself away to the enemy. He was so damn proud. And even more impressed that she wasn’t joking when she said he was at the door. Sebastian guessed a part of him was.

Severin Moran kneeled in their doorway, getting his blood all over their shiny purple rug. Joy had picked it out herself. “I love you too, fucking cockhole,” cursed Sebastian’s twin.

“Oh, dear, I heard a gunshot. Is everyone alright?” came Richard’s voice from down the hallway before the man came into view. “My god! Severin, what happened to you?”

“That fucker shot me!”

“Hey, watch your mouth. There’s a kid here,” Sebastian scolded, putting the safety on his gun and tucking it back from where it came. With his free hand, he rubbed soothing circles on Joy’s back. She didn’t make a peep, still wary of the pair in the doorway. “Shhh, it's okay, Bundle. They’re family.”

“Awww, Sebby,” Richard grinned like a puppy, ignoring the fact that Severin was still hissing on the floor. “You think of me like family?”

“You two are married, right? Or did I have to spend six months planning a wedding for nothing?”

“They’re married, Papa,” Joy piped up, her silent spell forgotten in exchange for pointing out the obvious. Though for someone who only had two years of experience in the world, it was quite impressive. Joy turned her head to face Sebastian head on, urging her papa to listen to her. “Look, look, they have rings!” She pointed at Richard’s left hand and the golden band around his finger. “Ten karat gold, I think, because the diamonds are placed all weird.”

Three sets of surprised eyes whipped to the little girl in Sebastian’s arms. She tugged at her ribbons to straighten them without a mirror. Richard’s dark beetle eyes widened in recognition, the two Moran twins had their mouths slightly ajar, confusion painted their faces as reflections. “Kind of cheap,” Joy stuck out her tongue in disgust. “Get a pretty blue diamond on a silver ring next time. Those are pretty.”

“Next time?” Severin asked in confusion, his hands clutching at his leg to stop the bleeding. “What do you mean next time?” The younger blonde shook his head, whipping away sweat using his sleeve. “Kid, it was a miracle I pulled him,” he pointed to Richard who closed the door shut behind them. “Do you really think anyone else would put up with me?”

“Everyday I’m surprised he hasn’t strangled you in your sleep,” Sebastian chuckled, tousling Joy’s hair. Her little hands smacked his hand away when they got too close to her ribbons.

“Believe me, I’ve been tempted,” Richard said in a mock serious tone, walking over to get the medkit from underneath the couch. Sebastian always had it fully stocked, just in cases like these. This was hardly the first time Severin had tried to break into his flat. The previous time Sebastian smashed half a dozen beer bottles over Severin’s head before the dumbass took the hint and left. Richard was more than qualified to patch his husband up at this point.

“Nuh-uh!” Joy shook her head, crossing her arms at the implication. “You’ve never been. You love him.”

“You’re not wrong, kid,” Severin said between huffs of pain as Richard ripped off a section of Severin’s pants with the swiss army knife Severin kept in his pocket. The ruined cloth came out with crude drippings of red. Richard positioned himself so his back was to Sebastian, using his body as a cover so Joy didn’t have to see his impromptu surgery. “But you don’t even know who I am. I didn’t even know Sebastian went out and got some b-”

“Don’t make me wash your mouth,” Sebastian warned, the teasing tone in his voice all gone. Severin knew damn well that Sebastian was a man of his word. They had grown up together after all.

His twin rolled his eyes, gladly taking the balled up rag into his mouth. Richard was quick and experienced with his hands. He had the bullet out in a matter of minutes, the stinking little thing landing on the destroyed rug. “First you don't tell us you have a kid. Second, you don’t tell us how much of a push over it made you? I thought we were friends, Sebastian.”

Joy nodded and hummed in agreement. “Papa can be a stick in the mud sometimes.”

“Who told you that?”

“The lady that takes your money. But she used words you don’t want me to use. She’s pretty mean, Papa. I bit her once.”

Richard finished up wrapping the wound on Severin’s leg, getting up to clean the mess they had made. “Haha, she’s definitely a Moran,” Severin laughed, letting Richard wipe me off without his usual complaint.

“Of course I am,” Joy stated proudly.

Richard smiled at that, wiping his hands clean with a rag and warm water. “I believe introductions are in order.” He raised an eyebrow at Sebastian to object. The older Moran twin merely sighed in resignation knowing when he was defeated. If only he was defeated with a knock at the door instead of his brother bleeding out in the doorway. “I’m Richard Moran, but you can call me Richie. It's nice to finally meet you.”

Richard held out his hand to shake. Joy took his hand in her small one and turned it over, tracing every line with her free hand. Richard allowed her to analyze his hand, curious to see what she could deduce.

“Was it your mama or auntie’s banoffee pie recipe?” Joy asked curiously, a knowing glint in her big brown eyes.

Richard had seen the look before. Oftentimes when he had looked in the mirror. And many more times when watching his twin. “It was my mother’s sister's recipe,” Richard answered, “But you already knew that.”

“Did you bring any for me?” Joy asked hopefully, eyes darting around Richard and Severin’s persons for the tooth rotting pie. Severin held out his hands to show her he had nothing. She slumped in disappointment at being overlooked. “Next time you cover over, please bring some for me. Oh! And you could draw my name with caramel. My name’s Joy, J-O-Y.”

“Joy, huh?” Severin tried the name out, “Well, I guess I’m Uncle Severin.” Severin shook his head lightly, “How old are you, kid?”

“Two!” Joy held out two fingers to show Severin who was still on the ground.

“You didn’t tell me about my own fucking niece for two whole years?” This was to a guilty Sebastian.

A dark look clouded Sebastian’s eyes. He let Joy back down on the ground. His whole body held in a breath like a prisoner, body as tense as rope pulled taunt. “Just a year,” he replied gruffly, taking the ruined rug to throw out. “I’ve only had her for a year. After-” he released the breath and sucked it back in. “After Jim was gone, I didn’t know where to go. Found her on a bridge.” The implication was clear enough, Sebastian didn’t need to explain further. He left the room to deal with the mess he had made.

“You made him upset,” Joy said clearly to the couple that remained. “You got to go and say sorry.”

“He made me upset too, Joy,” Severin told the girl, taking a swig of the bottle that Richard brought to clean his wound. “I kind of want to be a part of my brother’s life. Especially after what he went through with the boss,” Severin continued absentmindedly.

At that a thoughtful, yet unreadable look passed Joy. Richard couldn’t tell if it was curiosity or something else, perhaps something dangerous if she shared more similarities with him than he had originally speculated. Richard had never seen that expression before but there was a first time for everything and he was not one to underestimate an ally. “Do you know who the boss is?” Richard tested the waters before the shark returned.

Joy hummed out a non committal tune, considering whether or not to answer Richard. The two year old was more strategic than most historical generals alive decades before she was born. “I do, a little bit,” she said vaguely, eyeing the empty space where her chosen rug had sat. “But Papa doesn’t let me know more.” Her gaze returned to Richard’s, big brown eyes met beady black ones. “Papa doesn’t want to remember. But you know him, don’t you, uncle Richie?”

“Tell me more about the boss.”

-----

Sebastian had been warned that babies didn’t get much sleep, but he was never warned about three year olds with too much energy for their own good. He had never gotten much sleep in his years working as an assassin for hire, the process of sleeping for more than a several hours a night was too taxing on his heart. But nowadays he was lucky to get an hour or two before the little pitter patter of footsteps announced the present of the queen of the flat and her need for attention.

Sebastian loved Joy more than the world itself, but he sure did miss his sleep. “Good,” he looked at his bedside to see the time of night. Or more accurately day. What kind of three year old woke up at five in the god forsaken morning? “Morning, Bundle.”

“Papa! Papa,” Joy frantically greeted with a grin and shouts followed by leaps into the air. If Sebastian wasn’t so tired, he would be thoroughly amused.

“Joy, Joy!”

“Come, come! There’s someone like me!” With that she spirited out of the bedroom without a care for the people living downstairs.

It had been a little over a year since Joy’s first meeting with Severin and Richard and ever since then it had been harder to ignore that Joy was a little different from toddlers her age. For one she could speak in proper sentences with vocabulary that Sebastian needed a dictionary to understand when she wanted to, just to mess with him. For another, she could read and write things Sebastian didn’t even learn in his last year of school before deploying, much to her teachers' joy and dismay. She simply saw the world differently from he did and there was nothing wrong with that. It just meant that Sebastian got to have a slightly different fatherly experience.

Like waking up at five in the morning to his three year old toddler turning on the news of all things.

“Look, look!” Joy eagerly pointed at the telly, the flashing lights blinding in the near dark room. On the new channel the tagline had Sebastian grabbing at the walls to stable himself. “Famed Detective Returns From The Dead '' Footage of the damned man flashed onto the screen as if to rub in Sebastian’s face.

He looked the same. He looked healthy even. Alive.

Breathing.

Alive.

“Do you see him, Papa? He’s like me!” Joy’s excited tone brought Sebastian back to the world of the living. Her smile made his heart both freeze and burn out of his chest. “Oh, look at him! He’s like me! He’s looking and seeing. He’s watching the camera all funny but he’s really staring at the cameraman that fancies him. Like- like Uncle Richie and Uncle Severin. But he doesn't like the cameraman like that, of course. He likes his doctor.” Joy laughed hauntingly at her own joke and the familiarity of it made Sebastian want to reach for a gun at his hostler that hadn’t been there for a long time.

“He’s like me, but...he’s kind of slow,” Joy said mournfully, saddened by this realization. “I knew before I turned on the telly that the cameraman was obsessed with him. He carries the camera in a certain way. Have you noticed that too Papa?” Joy didn’t wait for a reply before continuing, “Like he was trying to impress someone, “Look at me! Look at how strong I am. Look at how I stupidly edge near danger, how daring!” Do you think his boss knows he kills so he has something to show on the camera?” Joy looked at Sebastian expectantly for an answer. She still saw him as an equal, as someone worth confiding in and that fact alone had Sebastian scooping her up in a bone aching hug.

“I’m sure the cameraman makes it very obvious. Most first timers do,” Sebastian explained, subtlety wiping the tears from his eyes.

“Oh, they do! They do, Papa! The cameraman makes it too obvious, but he’s still a cameraman. Someone’s letting him play. Someone wants him to keep playing.” Joy clapped her hands like she was watching Sunday morning cartoons. “Do you think it's the boss?”

Sebastian didn’t have to ask about which boss she was talking about. He merely shrugged because he didn’t know.

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thorne93 · 4 years

Text

Inside the Criminal Mind (Part 20)

Prompt: You’re married to Dr. Spencer Reid of the BAU, and are a distinguished doctor yourself on the team. You’re sent down to Miami, Florida for teaching and as a side request from the FBI, to investigate a string of missing persons. When you think you’ve figured out who the unsub is, your life becomes more complicated than you ever could’ve imagined.

Word Count: 2430

Warnings: (throughout the fic –>) death, blood, gore, killings, language, disturbing mental notions, mentions of rapes/murder/etc (You know, Dexter and Criminal Minds related business)

Notes: Thank you so much to @arrow-guy, @carryonmyswansong, and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo - without each of you, I couldn’t have finished, written, or properly navigated this story. Each of you helped me fish out details that were incredibly important to me. Beta’d by @carryonmyswansong and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo… Aesthetic by @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo

This is a crossover of Criminal Minds x Dexter. First time writing Dexter.

Also, the timeline is after Season 1 of Dexter, but during season 14-ish of Criminal minds into Season 15. Enjoy!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When you got up the next morning, you felt like a truck had hit you. You slept maybe thirty minutes, if that. The anxiety settled on you heavily. Your marriage, career, and freedom were on the line.

The worst part was you knew if you lost one of them, you’d lose them all. Everything that had transpired between you two lately seemed so insignificant at that thought. Yes, you were the one doing the killing, being the accomplice, but suddenly, the problem with JJ felt miniscule. When Spence was kidnapped and you weren’t sure you’d ever see him again, you still wondered how he felt about her, how you two had a future together.

Yet, now… now you were terrified you’d pushed him into her arms. Between keeping your distance physically and emotionally, and literally admitting to being a serial killer, you weren’t sure there was much hope for your marriage.

How did it all go so wrong, so fast? Six months ago, you two were the picture of a happy, perfect marriage.

Now you’d spend the next two weeks looking over your shoulder, wondering when and if your husband would show up with the handcuffs -- and not for pleasure this time.

You only had to teach ten classes - two a day each day this week. Then next week, you would be giving out finals. This was your late afternoon Monday class, and you were just getting started.

“Alright everyone. Hope you had a great weekend,” you said with a cheery smile, thinking about how you had a horrendous weekend. “Today, we’re going to be talking about resolving the case. You’ve found the killer, now you’re at trial. We’re going to talk about everything that could go right, or wrong, and how a forensic psychologist might be able to help with this.”

Just then, the door towards the back of the room opened and you saw a very familiar face. It was Rossi.

Your gut dropped. Oh no, did Spence tell the team to just go ahead and come arrest you?

But his face said otherwise. There was no disappointment or grimness, or hesitation. No, actually, he had a shiteating grin on his face.

“Well, look who it is everyone. This is my very esteemed boss, David Rossi,” you announced as he made his way to the front of the lecture hall. “Are you here to ream me on my teaching?” you teased.

“Even better, I plan to sit in on it and correct you when need be,” he stated cheerfully before slightly turning to your students who laughed.

“It’s always a pleasure.”

He smiled at you before pulling a spare chair up to sit somewhat behind you in the corner as you taught and went through your powerpoint. You were only on your second slide when he interjected. You’d just asked the class, “What does it mean if a defendant wants to plead NGRI.”

A boy who usually spoke up in your class, raising his hand. “It means not guilty by reason of insanity.”

“Right, and what happens when they plead that?”

“They get cut slack and the jury sees them as insane. Then instead of going to prison, they go to a mental institute for a shorter amount of time,” the student explained.

“Actually,” Rossi started before standing up, “that’s not usually the case. An NGRI is only successful 1% of the time, and when it is, the defendant has to usually stay in a facility for a lot longer than the prison sentence would’ve been and they have to prove themselves capable to a doctor.”

At this point he was pacing and you couldn’t help but grin fondly as you gave him the floor.

“This actually reminds me of a case I word back in the late 80’s,” he continued. With that, he took off down memory lane. It was one epic story after another. Some included you, some were decades before you, but all of them had the kids on the edge of their seats, soaking up every one of his words. After each anecdote, the kids had questions.

Before you knew it, class was over. Rossi sort of touched on the points you wanted to, but mainly it turned into a lot of his exciting tales of being in the field. Which was ultimately fine. You’d just post the lecture notes online for the kids tonight.

When the kids left the lecture hall, you gathered your things and turned to Rossi as you exited the room.

“So what brings you down, other than crashing my lecture?”

“That was it. Hadn’t seen or heard from you in a while, thought I would come visit the ole sunshine state,” he informed. “How’s it going down here? I hope I didn’t step all over your class.”

You shrugged. “Oh, it’s fine. You talking about the glory days is a lot better than me droning on about court cases.” You laughed slightly.

“So you sad to leave it? I know your classes are almost up.”

“No, not really. Teaching is fun, but I miss field work. Actually catching criminals, instead of teaching how to catch them.”

“I think your husband might say the opposite.”

At the mention of Spence your heart hammered and went icy.

“Spence would probably say that because he doesn’t like the fact that we do have to do our jobs.”

“This is true.”

“Hey, you wanna grab dinner? You flew all the way down.”

“I’d love to, kid,” he agreed, taking you up on your offer.

“Awesome. I know a great seafood joint nearby. I know you might prefer italian but maybe a change of pace would be nice.”

“Just point the way,” he said, gesturing forward. You smiled and led him to your car where you two piled in and drove about five minutes away to a nice restaurant. You got in, ordered your drinks, and settled in.

“So you ready to be back in the field?” he asked with a grin.

“Yeah, I think I am. Every time Spence calls and mentions a case I’m profiling immediately,” you stated with a slight laugh, trying to hide how you felt like you were dying inside. Your stomach was a war of anxiety, dread, depression, and a tiny flicker of hope.

“Yeah, he tells us,” he remarked. “So your time as a professor down here is ending. What’d you think? Would you want to keep it up back up at Quantico?”

“You offering me a job?” you teased.

He shrugged, raising his eyebrows. “The academy is always looking for teachers. But I’m curious. I know Reid loves teaching, didn’t know if that extended to you now.”

“Well, if it was back in DC and it didn’t take me too far away from the BAU and Spence, yeah I’d probably be up for it.”

“See? You were nervous for nothing.”

You chuckled. “Hey, I’d never done this before!”

“Talking to a crowd of people is a lot easier, and safer, than talking to one unsub.”

“I’ll drink to that,” you said as soon as the drinks hit the table.

“Are you going to miss all this sunshine?”

You peered around the restaurant, as if you were actually gauging it. That’s when the question hit you -- if, by some miracle, Spence didn’t turn you in, you would be leaving behind Dexter. Your truest friend. You’d miss him dearly. He was unusual, yes, for an FBI agent, but he was also… very real. You could joke, be yourself, not be judged around him. He wouldn’t take what you said too seriously or get offended. He found your dark humor delightful. You hoped that he found a friend in you too.

Yes, despite everything, you’d miss Dexter, the one person who truly knew every part about you.

“I’ll miss some things about the state. Yeah,” you admitted with a fond smile.

“Well you can always visit,” he reminded as he raised his glass.

The two of you talked, caught up like old friends. Shop talk was little, and you discussed life with Spence, kids, the marriage. You pretended he didn’t know you were a serial killer and you weren’t on edge, wondering if you were going to prison any second. Rossi didn’t know about JJ, or if he did, he didn’t say one word and you didn’t feel like airing your dirty laundry. So you left the topic alone.

Other than that, it was a great dinner with a friend. He said he and Krystal were on their way to a little resort for a few days. She was sightseeing in Miami while Rossi visited you. As soon as he was done with the restaurant, he was going to meet her at the resort.

Unfortunately for you, your distraction was gone now, and you were back to being consumed with anxiety. Seeing Dexter didn’t help either, or at least, you didn’t think it would.

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

The next day, around 4:30 pm, you got a text from Dexter asking if you’d want to grab dinner. You agreed.

The two of you met at a little outdoor restaurant. It was a beautiful night. Very warm, but a cozy kind of warm, not a strangling type. The ocean breeze was doing an excellent job at calming your nerves.

You were daydreaming, wondering when or if you’d ever see or feel anything this beautiful again when Dexter took a seat right in front of you.

“Hey,” he greeted, a slight smile on his face.

“Hi,” you softly said. Not one little part of you was mad at him. Maybe some part of you should’ve been, but how could you be? You were the authority in this relationship. You could’ve locked Dex up a long time ago, not looked back, and been a local and FBI hero. But no, your personal vendetta and vices got in the way and you gave into a darkness inside you that you never knew you had. Not until you met Dexter and knew what a good vigilante looked like.

“How’s...uh, how’s everything going?”

“As good as can be expected,” you truthfully stated, frowning a bit. “Listen I’m so sorry I--”

He held up his hand. “Nope. No. You don’t have to apologize. I knew that there was a risk in teaching you. I knew that one day your coworkers might figure it out. I was sort of hoping they’d only take you down though,” he stated with a grin that made you laugh. “But seriously… I knew the risks. I could’ve said no. Like I said, if this is how I go out, then your husband is a worthy opponent.”

A sorrowful smile touched your face for the briefest of seconds.

“So you’re not mad?”

“Mad? Y/N, I’m the killer. I know the dangers I face every time I take someone out. That was happening long before you were in the picture.”

“Yeah but having an FBI agent for a partner must not be ideal.”

“On the contrary, there might be hope. Do you really think he is going to turn you in? Turn us in?”

You heaved a large sigh. That’s all you’d thought about since the words came out of your mouth and you were still no closer to an answer.

“I honestly don’t know. The fact that it’s been a few days and we haven’t been arrested is a good sign. But, Spencer is practical too, he may be waiting until I get home to sort out details of the marriage, the home, and everything else before asking me to give myself up.”

He nodded. “I don’t know him as well as you, so I can’t say anything on that. But we should take it as some form of hope that there aren’t feds at our door.”

“Yeah, I suppose so.”

He eyed you up and down, seeing as you were clearly miserable.

“Hey, well, worst case, he does… Don’t spend your last days of freedom sulking. Spend them doing what you want. Go take a tour, go see a museum, go… do whatever it is you do to relax. Speaking of, do you ever relax?”

A half smile perked up on your face. “Yes, Morgan, I do relax.”

“Oh, ‘Morgan’, did I hit a nerve, Agent?”

You shook your head and laughed, sticking your tongue out.

“Hey, Dexter…” you started, your eyes down at your fingers that were playing with each other. “I want you to know that you’re a really good friend. If it wasn’t for you when Spence got kidnapped… I would’ve been a mess. I would’ve gone off on JJ. Hell, I’d be a lot of things.” You took a deep breath. “But not just that. Spence, he knows me inside and out. He even knows about my… secret now, but you… Well you saw all of me and didn’t judge me. I mean, you know I’m an agent and you didn’t give me a lecture.”

“That’d be a bit of a double standard, don’t you think?”

You shrugged. “Maybe, but you could’ve, and you didn’t. I appreciate that. Even when we weren’t… teaching, I liked just hanging out with you. It was nice to have a friend that wasn’t so by the book. I mean, the BAU is great, and we’re a family, but I can’t be my morbid self with them. They just don’t share my ideals and if I said half the shit I did to them that I did to you, they would be so offended that I’d be sent off for a psych eval faster than you could say ‘unsub.’”

He slightly grinned. “Yeah, I liked our time too. It was nice to be myself too. Harry… he did his best but I could tell he didn’t accept me, not all the way. With Deb… shit, with Deb, she barely knows me. Rita sees a little bit more. She can tell when I’m upset, or agitated but… yeah it’s nice to have a real friendship. I’m going to miss this.”

“Yeah… me too.”

“Thanks… for looking behind the mask and not being afraid.”

“Thanks for letting me look behind the mask,” you countered, raising your beer, clinking it with his.

The rest of the evening was spent just talking. Not about kills or teaching. Not about prison. Just about your accomplishments, why they meant so much to you, what you’d seen, what you loved about Spencer.

But something had clicked with you. Dexter said something and it resonated deep inside you. So you set the plan in motion when you got home that night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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thedeaditeslayer · 4 years

Photo

Running Time Restored Interview: 1997 Josh Becker and Bruce Campbell Indie Gets a New Life in 2K.

You can read the full interview on the upcoming release With Josh Becker, Bruce Campbell, and Don May Jr. from Diabolik Magazine below.

In 1995 on New Year’s Eve, Josh Becker had an idea. Born out of a session pondering Alfred Hitchcock’s legendary, true crime classic, Rope, he decided that he was going to improve upon the master of suspense’s legendary concept of shooting a film in real time. A daunting task but Becker was up to the challenge.

What resulted was perhaps one of the most ambitious efforts to ever grace the silver screen, Running Time. This neo-noir thriller about a heist gone wrong and a small-time criminal who rekindles his love affair with his high-school sweetheart was a hidden gem that didn’t get the recognition that it deserved. Written expressly for Becker’s childhood friend and Super 8 cohort, Bruce Campbell, the pair were once again, doing gonzo-style filmmaking just like when they were growing up in Michigan with the likes of Sam Raimi and Rob Tapert.

Josh Becker was and is an adventurous soul who does things his way, just like the director gods of old. When I think of his work, the names of John Ford, William Wyler and John Huston readily spring to mind. There is something admirable about his driven determination that was the heart and soul of this black and white throwback to another era which is ultimately endearing. Yes, I have a special place in my heart for Running Time because it is honest and not filled with “tentpole” tendencies. At the core of it is the written word. The end result is one of the most overlooked masterpieces of both Becker’s and Campbell’s careers.

What is truly amazing is that this flick was shot in two weeks and that everyone went home early. It was like having a 9 to 5 job. No 18-hour-days, just fast, efficient, run and gun style filmmaking that resulted in a production that could stand toe to toe with noir classics from a bygone era like The Petrified Forest and Desperate Hours.

Prior to Running Time, Bruce was known predominantly for his work in the horror and science fiction genres which can sometimes be limiting for an actor. Becker gave him an incredible script to work with that really showcased his range as a thespian. Behind the smart-ass quips and bravado lies a talented individual who takes his craft seriously. He is capable of creating complex characters and he is most assuredly fit to be a romantic lead.

I had the chance to sit down with the major players in the restoration of Running Time (Josh Becker, Bruce Campbell, Don May, Jr. and Gerry Kissell) to reminisce about the journey of this film from its humble beginnings to preserving this indie classic for future generations.

The Director and His Muse

Diabolique: Bruce, I have to start off by telling you that Running Time is my favorite out of all of your films.

Bruce Campbell: It’s a cool, little flick. Too bad it sort of escaped, it wasn’t released as the old joke goes.

Diabolique: What I like so much about it is the neo-noir aspect. It’s a throwback to the 40’s and 50’s. In Josh’s book, Rushes, he talks about how he convinced you to be in the film. You weren’t getting paid and you invested in it. What was his pitch, how did he sell the concept to you?

BC: The pitch was that it was NOT McHale’s Navy. I just spent 11 weeks in Mexico just sort of bullshitting our way through that film where we would make up our lines of dialogue because there was nothing written for us. In the script it would say things like, “McHale and his guys get off the boat,” “McHale and his men go to Cuba.” Which means they hadn’t thought anything up for you. I did it because I liked the show as a kid. It was a very popular thing; it was from Universal. It made sense at the time. It was just a case of when something is underwritten, the problem that it causes actors. I had just come off of that, and Running Time was very ambitious, low budget it was meant to be this conceit of being done in one shot so it was cinematic. So, I was like, okay, yeah. It was like the anti-studio movie, small crew, fast moving and yet no money. Basically, I invested the money that I was paid back into the movie in order for them to make it. It was definitely for a love of the movie type deal.

Josh Becker: I’ve known Bruce since we were twelve and I’d seen him in a number of plays. I knew that he had a much bigger range as an actor than he’d had a chance to show at that point. Plus, he’s a pleasure to work with. Once I pitched him the idea, he was all for it, partially because the long takes are a way for an actor to really show their ability.

Diabolique: Thinking about your filmography, Bruce, you haven’t played a traditional romantic lead. Do you see Running Time as a love story of sorts?

BC: What’s funny is Josh had Carl come back. In a proper film noir, he would have gone, you would have heard the tires squeal and she would be sitting there crying and the credits would roll and that would be it. It would be bleak, but Josh deep down is a sentimentalist and I think I am too. We had no issue with the happy ending. We wanted to make the audiences think for quite a long period of time that it’s going to be a sad ending. She packs her bag and then she unpacks it. The whole thing is quite an extended piece but I thought it was well worth playing just to kind of throw a little wrinkle in it. Maybe even in a criminal story you can have a happy ending.

Diabolique: In terms of the storyline, Josh, we all know that Rope was the blueprint for Running Time. You hadn’t made a film in 7 years. What was it about that production that captured your imagination besides the challenge of the “long take”?

JB: Part of my inspiration was simply getting another feature film made after seven years of working in television, which was never my goal. But as I thought about Rope, I wondered why the continuous, real-time concept didn’t really have any impact on the story. Then it occurred to me that there was no time element involved. Two young men—ostensibly Leopold and Loeb—have killed another young man for the fun of it, put the body in a chest, then invited people over for a party, including a cop. Well, if the chest was spring loaded and had a timer on it so that at some point it would pop open and reveal the corpse, that would be a time element. So, I thought, how do you use the real time technique and add a ticking clock? The first story that came to mind was a heist which generally has a time element—we’ve got to get the money and get out of here before we’re caught.

Diabolique: Running Time was shot in sequence like a play. Did it pose any challenges for you as an actor?

BC: I liked what Josh was trying to do. These long uninterrupted takes from an actor’s point of view, you know stuff can get really choppy these days. My complaint from Burn Notice is they wouldn’t let a full sentence stay on camera; they would have to cut away to somebody else. It felt like they had to keep cutting, cutting and cutting. This movie was no cutting for like ten minutes at a time. It’s great from an actor’s perspective because you can feel the juices flowing. It’s like a play. You can work on the pacing; you can have something build over a period of time and minutes to play out in literally real time. It’s a real time crime drama. I liked it conceptually and it was challenging. There was a fair amount of dialogue because my guy, Carl is calling the shots. I thought it was a good premise. Guy gets out of prison turns right around and robs the prison because he knows how the prison laundry system works. I thought that was pretty sound. I am always sympathetic for the low budget independent movie. I always will be.

Diabolique: Were there any other films that influenced you and your writing partner, Peter Choi? The entire concept is very noir and the desperate situation that Carl finds himself in is reminiscent of any number of films from the 1940s.

JB: My main inspiration was Straight Time with Dustin Hoffman, an overlooked movie from 1978. And though I didn’t think of it at the time, several folks brought up Joseph Lewis’s Gun Crazy after it came out, and I do see that. The film has one long take in it during a bank robbery, and even though the camera stays in the backseat of a car, it has that same feeling of a real time event.

Diabolique: I know you are a fan of classic movies, Bruce and in a sense Running Time reminds me of Desperate Hours or The Petrified Forest especially when the robbery is botched and the situation is escalating in the enclosed office. Did you find any inspiration from the noir genre for your portrayal of Carl?

BC: No, but the classic tough guys were always awesome. We loved them all, Bogart and Robert Mitchum…the fact that Josh shot the film in black and white was perfect. Because it really helped lend itself to a look of that time period when Jack Palance was a leading man.

Diabolique: In your book Rushes, you talked about your decision to shoot in 16 mm Kodak ASA 64 black and white stock. You get sharper images due to the finer grain of the film, but did that pose any problems in terms of showcasing your work at that time since most people weren’t shooting in black and white?

JB: I didn’t think of it regarding showcasing my work. I thought it was appropriate for the subject matter and that it would be visually striking. Also, moving the camera from inside to outside in color posed the problem of adding or removing filters which would not be an issue with black and white.

Diabolique: You shot over a period of 10 days which was unheard of even back in the 90’s. How were you able to keep things moving along?

JB: It was based on pre-planning. I knew exactly what I wanted. We rehearsed the film and the actors were all very comfortable with the dialogue. Then it was just an issue of getting the complicated camera moves in regard to the actor’s blocking to work right, and that didn’t turn out to be all that difficult.

Diabolique: As an actor, did you enjoy working on an accelerated timetable?

BC: It was exciting to do and so different. The toughest thing was the technical demands. It wasn’t like there were explosions and stuff like that. But in order to do blocking inside of an apartment, the camera is moving in circles, well, the crew had to move every object behind the camera before it got there and then had to put it back before the camera saw it again. So, there was a lot of voodoo, a lot of magic. We would rehearse and rehearse and rehearse and we could never get it right. Finally, we were like fuck it. Let’s just start shooting because everyone gets a little more alert when you shoot. That did it. That allowed us to conquer the impossible. After 3 or 4 takes if we got it, we were done even if it was 10:30 in the morning. I don’t think we spent more than two thirds of a day getting that particular shot. The end result is cool. I’ve seen the cleaned-up version without all the scratches and the dust marks. You can’t even tell what year it is. It almost seems like its videotape transferred like those teledramas of the 60’s that were done on TV. There were moments in the film that weren’t perfect, and that’s okay.

Diabolique: When I revisited Running Time recently, I was impressed with how well it holds up because some efforts don’t. With the 2K restoration, Bruce, this will give your fans a chance to see it. For some, it might be their first time. Do you have a scene that you are particularly fond of?

BC: There’s some scenes that are fun to do. After I get shot, I am in Janie’s apartment and she’s trying to put me together, that fainting on the toilet while she’s trying to patch me together it felt kind of real, playing shot and being delirious. Stuff like that. Just fun to be able to take the moment to do it.

Diabolique: Josh, do you feel shooting in black and white made the 2K restoration more challenging?

JB: Slow speed black and white film stock has a lot of silver in it which creates an inordinate amount of static electricity. When I did the initial film transfer back in 1997, the negative kept getting covered with dust, causing us to have to stop and clean the film every 30-60 minutes. Since the transfer was $375 an hour—in 1997 dollars—I could only stop so many times before it became financially prohibitive. Dust on a black and white negative shows up as white dots. Using the newest technology, Don May was able to remove all of the dust digitally. Therefore, the film has never looked as good as it does now.

Diabolique: What excites you the most about Running Time getting restored, Bruce?

BC: I am always happy when something gets re-released which means in this case, it gets preserved. It will look fantastic in 2K. That’s why with all these reissues fans are like, “Why should we care?” Like well, if you care about preservation, this means it will be the latest version of a movie that is fairly obscure. Sometimes a movie can die on the vine because no one will pay the money to keep it current. Now, we can show the sucker, hopefully, anywhere.

Diabolique: Josh, do you have any plans to showcase Running Time once the restoration is completed? This is a great film that fans should definitely see.

JB: We have no plans at the moment, but then the film isn’t out yet. When it’s done, we’ll see what happens.

Breathing New Life into Running Time: The Art of Restoration

Don May, Jr. along with Jerry Chandler and Charles Fiedler created Synapse Films in 1997. Known for their work in preserving unique genre classics, May had previously collaborated with Josh Becker when his company restored the director’s 1985 production, Thou Shalt Not Kill…Except.

Gerry Kissell was the official artist on Running Time and will be reprising his role for the 2K restoration. He has been friends with Josh since the Freaky Film Festival where he and Bruce premiered the film on the University of Illinois campus.

Both gentlemen were kind enough to take time out of their busy schedules to talk to us.

Diabolique: Were you able to obtain the original negative for Running Time?

Don May, Jr: Yes, thankfully. Josh Becker is a true movie fan and loves the filmmaking process, so we were fortunate to work with him. He kept everything stored properly in a climate-controlled vault, as a man who cares about his movies should.

Diabolique: Can you talk about the scanning process for 2K?

DMJ: The 16mm negative was separated into A/B rolls, so we had to scan a lot of reels separately at Prasad in Burbank, CA. Luckily, because of the actual nature of the “one-take” aesthetic Josh utilized, there were only a total of about 30 cuts in the entire film… hidden in editing, of course. So, we basically scanned the 30 separate shots, and then assembled them digitally using DaVinci Resolve. We had to be VERY careful the way we put the 30 cuts back together, making sure the shots were frame accurate and of the proper length. Unlike a film that has a conformed negative separated into 10- or 20-minute reels, Running Time was all in separate pieces, with each shot edited on separate reels. It was a challenge, but we were able to use a previous master as a reference and most of it went together without a hitch. Being shot in B&W also helped in color correction to hide the edits properly to make the real-time aspect as seamless as possible. Once the film was properly assembled, we were able to ship everything off to India for restoration. Because Josh had everything stored properly for decades, the negative itself was fairly free of a lot of dirt and scratches, but we did carefully sonically clean all the pieces before scanning commenced.

Diabolique: How long does it take the digital artists to fix debris or scratches on the original negatives?

DMJ: There’s a lot of data wrangling involved. Copying data for safety. Making backups, etc. But we have a great working relationship with Prasad. They have worked on such classics as Lawrence of Arabia, How the West Was Won, A Fistful of Dollars, Gandhi, The Red Shoes, etc. They do the lion’s share of my output, and I put a lot of trust in them. They’ve never failed me. We do ship the film scans to India and that takes time. I think Running Time took about 4-5 months. I let them take their time, though, because I don’t want to have to keep sending things back for fixes. With Running Time, they did an excellent job, right from my first restoration test reels. But, again, Josh had taken very good care of his materials, so it wasn’t much of a challenge.

Diabolique: Gerry, what artwork did you originally provide for Running Time and what can we expect from you for the 2K restoration?

Gerry Kissell: I did promotional art that ended up on tee-shirts. It included the shot of the three main characters, which I called Tres Hombres, on one, Jeremy Roberts aiming the pistol at the camera on another, and the last, which you’ve seen of Bruce’s mug all heroic and chinny. All of the art was done on Bristol cold press illustration board. The new painting for the Synapse release is me, 20+ years later, a tad bit better at drawing and painting, lol.

Diabolique: Besides the idea of preserving Running Time, Don, what attracted you to the project?

DMJ: We had worked previously with Josh on Thou Shalt Not Kill…Except, and we had a lot of fun with that one. I like working with Josh. He’s a great guy, and I love that he’s so passionate about film. He loves movies, and he loves MAKING movies. It’s so great to see people like Josh doing things like Running Time, back when using computers to do a “one take” approach was non-existent. You see things today like the film 1917, which is a fine film in its own right, but they cheated a lot of its “one take” aspect using computers. Josh did Running Time, but used his brain, and actual organic film splicing and editing to achieve the same result. He’s smart, funny, talented and I love working with people like him. It also doesn’t hurt that Running Time stars Bruce Campbell, so… yeah… of course, we jumped at the chance to do it.

Diabolique: When can fans expect to see the Running Time 2K restoration?

DMJ: I would imagine late summer/early fall 2020. We’re wrapping up extras and artwork now.

#Running Time #Bruce Campbell #Josh Becker

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