#trying to break the nice wall of repression I was building here

[furiousgoldfish]

traumatized people can't meditate bc we're busy dissociating... being present in the moment is not a luxury we can afford in this life

#trauma #cptsd #ptsd #dissociation #meditation #its dumb to even try bc your mind will be like #I was here DISSOCIATING and what the hell are you trying to do? ?? #trying to break the nice wall of repression I was building here? ? #here have a goddamn panic attack since u want one #or bursts of grief and rage since u interfere with my job #so yeah this is why I don't meditate anymore #sigh

[dreamescapeswriting]

Together ~ KNJ [Request]

WORD COUNT:5.3k

PAIRING: Namjoon x Reader

GENRE: College AU, friends to lovers, angst, fluffy ending,

A single cough erupted from one side of the giant lecture theatre that you were sitting inside of causing everyone to stare over at the kid that coughed. He blushed deeply but anyone would with around 100 students sitting and staring at you because you coughed. All of you were just sitting there waiting eagerly for the exam to end. Tapping pens could be heard as you glanced around at everyone, it was the final exam and it appeared as though everyone had already finished and was just waiting for the bell to ring. All you wanted to do was race out of the lecture hall and out into the hot summer weather to tan for a while but you had to sit there, in silence until the test was finished otherwise the whole year of learning would have been for nothing. 

All the hours of countless cramming for tests would have gone to waste so you sat there. Staring forward at the chalkboard and around 60 students heads since you were right at the back of the hall.

It was finally the end of your first college school year and you were looking forward to the next eight weeks of pure bliss, not having to worry about waking up early for lectures or staying up all night studying for a test. It was going to be the best summer vacation you could ever possibly want, you already had what you were going to do planned out. No one was going to be in the dorm house that you shared, they all had their own plans so you arranged to stay inside for the first week, catching up on everything that needed to do before deciding to relax, binge watch shows and do whatever you wanted.

"Pencils down and close your booklets, if you have no finished you're exam don't worry. I'm sure you can make it up when you repeat this year," You looked at the woman at the front of the room, she was a woman in her early 40's with a Karen haircut, she'd been brought in when your original tutor for the course left to have a baby and never bothered coming back. It was a surprise to you that you even knew half of the questions on the exam, the teacher was useless you practically taught yourself late at night reading through the books and countless research articles online. 

"Single file lines! You're adults, we shouldn't have to tell you how to behave!" She screamed as people began rushing to get out of the hall, you stayed behind not wanting to get trampled in the herd of people.

The room was silent again apart from the shuffling of papers as Mrs Kim collected all of the papers. Leaning behind yourself you began packing things into your bag not noticing that your best friend was lingering up behind you. 

"Boo!" He yelled out as he placed his hands on your shoulders and shook you a little making you cry out in surprise. 

"Joonie," You whined as you saw the surprised look on Mrs Kim's face as she heard a sudden noise come out of nowhere. 

"Sorry Mrs Kim, I've come to steal my best friend." He practically pulled you free from your chair and dragged you out of the hall and into the hallways where people were talking amongst one another.

"I'm not even going to ask how it went, you're my best friend and I already know you've passed," He said in a matter-a-fact tone as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder and that was when you knew he wanted something. The two of you had been friends since you could walk and talk you knew exactly what he was up to when he was flattering you. 

"Whatever it is, no. I'm not doing it, I'm not driving you, I’m not doing a late assignment for you, I’m not going to pick you up late from a party and I'm not going to kill someone for you," You went through everything so you didn't leave a single thing out but Namjoon tutted at you. 

"I am offended that you would even think for a second that I was trying to get something out of you," You stood still as you looked at him with a blank stare, 

"Okay fine I need something," He grumbled pulling you with him as he walked out of the main campus building.

Back at the house, you waited for Namjoon to tell you what it was that he wanted, the whole walk home he'd been avoiding the question or distracting you with something else. The house you lived in was huge, it had around nine bedrooms in total all with their own bathrooms and two main bathrooms. It used to be an old mansion home but it was renovated when a college was built nearby and rented out to groups of college kids. The last year you'd been living there with Namjoon and six of his college buddies, all of you got along which was perfect, no awkward meetings in the hallways or kitchen.

"You can't just tell me you need something and then not say anything," You told him as you picked up a slice of pizza from the box and began eating it. This was what he did when he wanted something, he would try to bribe you with food or do something nice for you, you'd known him long enough that this meant he was going to ask for something big.

"You're not doing anything in the summer, right?" You put down the slice of pizza and brushed your hands onto a napkin as you got up to leave. You already knew what he was going to ask and you weren't interested, 

"No way, there is no way of me going on that stupid trip." You told him as you began heading for the staircase wanting to go to bed but he grabbed your wrist. 

"You're my best friend, we're supposed to look out for one another," He whined as he looked at you, his large brown eyes turning into puppy-dog eyes as he attempted to persuade you.

It was the summer vacation he and some of his friends had been planning to take together,

"Kyong is going and I don't want to be alone with her," He told you as he looked at you, tugging on your wrist as he waited for you to say something. Mi Kyong, his ex-girlfriend that practically ripped him apart and left you to stitch him back together again. Cheating on him so many times in the relationship you wondered how he stayed with her for as long as he did. To you, she was the devil in disguise but to Namjoon she was and would always be the love of his life. 

"I'm weak if I go near her I'll break," That wasn't a lie, you knew that if Namjoon even stayed in the same room as her alone she would somehow manipulate him back into her life only to break him up into pieces yet again.

"I thought Jungkook and the boys were going," You sighed thinking about how your perfect relaxing time was going to be ruined by going out to some log cabin in the woods.

"They're taking their dates...Please...We'll have fun I promise and you can bring books...Music, painting gear...Whatever you want," You knew he was never going to let it go so you nodded slowly at him, at least this way you could keep a close eye on him at all times. 

The two of you were back in the living room, pizza slice in your hand as you were ready to curl up and watch Grey's Anatomy together,

"There's just one thing," He called out, you turned to stare at him pizza slice in your mouth waiting for him to continue.

"You have to pretend to be my date." The pizza slice slipped from your hands and onto the white leather sofa as you stared at him. 

"What?" Your voice cracked thinking that maybe you'd heard him wrong or he was just trying to joke but he shook his head. 

"You have to pretend to date me, nothing major just...A cuddle and holding hands," You stared at him feeling your heart pounding against your chest at the thought of doing something like that was Namjoon. He wasn't the type of friend that cuddled or held hands with anyone so suddenly doing that bought back all of the feelings you had for him that you had repressed. You never wanted to admit your feelings for him and when you moved into a house together for college you pushed them down so deep you thought you'd gotten over him. 

"And share a room, which we've done before it's not a big deal." He mumbled as he began watching the screen. Not a big deal? To him maybe it wasn't a big deal but to you, it was bringing up all of the repressed feelings you'd hoped you had been over.

"Y-Yeah, no big deal." You mumbled staring at the screen as you suddenly didn't feel like eating anymore. 

"I gotta go pack," You said suddenly, leaving the pizza with Namjoon and rushing up to your bedroom. Slamming the door and looking around as you thought about all of the things you didn't have for a summer vacation, tomorrow was going to be an impromptu shopping trip as early as possible. 

The car pulled up outside the large home and you thought it was some kind of joke until everyone began pulling their bags out. You took Namjoon by the hand and stared at him, 

"I thought you said it was a cabin in the woods," You whispered turning to look at the large mansion behind you which was defiantly not a small cabin in the woods.

"No, I said it was a home in a remote area." The remote area part was right, the ride had taken you almost four hours to get out here and it was in the middle of the woods but it was not a home of any kind. It was huge and modern. All of it was an open plan area with large floor to ceiling windows. The walls were white and black and that was just the outside. 

"I couldn't let my boys slum it for the summer," Kyong's voice said as she trailed her hand along Namjoon's back, you watched as he tensed up. The original plan was for him to be in the car with her but you managed to get Jimin and his girlfriend to swap with you both, riding along with Yoongi and his girlfriend instead. 

"It's costing me almost 650,000,00₩, for the month. I know you're only here for a week but I decided I would stay." Everyone seemed to have their eyes glued onto the building as they stared at it, 

"Nine bedrooms so I'm afraid Y/n might have to be on the sofa," She said in a condescending tone but that was when Namjoon wrapped his arm around your waist and drew you closer to him. Sparks felt as though they were shooting off your body and you hoped no one picked up on the fact that you were so shy from the small touch. 

"Actually she'll be in my room since we're together." He stared at Kyong as he said it and the smile on her face was wiped away, leaving a shocked look as she tried to think of something to say in response. 

"Really? You and Y/n- Wow...I never would have thought your taste would have changed that much," You knew it was an insult but you chose to ignore her, pulling at Namjoon's hand. 

"Come on babe, let's go find a good view." You cooed, pulling him into the front door and hoping that Kyong would finally leave him alone now that she heard you were dating, that way you wouldn't have to go through the butterfly feelings every time he touched you, even a little. 

"Babe?" Namjoon chuckled as he walked behind you, he'd never heard you call him anything besides Namjoon or Joonie, or if he was in trouble, Kim Namjoon.

"You need it to be convincing, right?" A smirk played on his lips while you had your back to him, he let you lead him through the house to try and find a room for the two of you but it was huge and you thought you might have needed a map to find your way around. 

"Here," Namjoon laughed pulling you into a large bedroom, your bag dropped from your shoulder. 

The bedroom had its own sitting room so you weren't going to have to worry about sitting downstairs where Kyong would bother you. There were large glass windows leading out onto a balcony that looked as though it had grass on it.

"Why does the balcony have furniture, there's no door-" You stopped speaking when the glass doors that you originally thought were windows began to move and open up, folding into the walls so you could walk out onto the small balcony area that looked over a giant pool on the ground floor. 

"This place is incredible," You breathed out as you laid your hands on the balcony railing, looking over at the woods that were just beyond the house. 

Namjoon was looking around the room, an ensuite was connected to it all white marble. A walk-in shower and a corner bathtub with jets.

"Hey I-whoa," Namjoon stopped as he looked at you and the view wondering where the windows had gone.

"So that's what that switch did," He chuckled softly as he thought back on the switch he had flicked on the wall.

The night came sooner than expected, you'd spent most of the day unpacking everything you'd bought along with you and planning what you were going to do the next day and now everyone was gathered in the kitchen. 

"I made us all a pasta dish, I figured it would be nice for the evening," Not for one second did you believe that Kyong had cooked the pasta, mostly because there were take out containers in the bin but also because Namjoon told you about the last time she tried to cook. She almost burnt her entire dorm down just trying to use a rice cooker. 

"Are you really going to eat all that?" Kyong questioned as she watched you piling pasta onto your plate,

"I mean pasta is known to bloat us but I guess you're obviously not bothered about looking bloated." Namjoon was suddenly by your side ready to take over for you, 

"Y/n looks perfect, so why don't you just focus on yourself," He ordered, taking your plate and his over to tone of the many dining tables that were in the home. 

"Ignore her, she's just trying to get under your skin." He reassured you as he smiled weakly, you knew he still had feelings for her but it was nice to see how much he was stepping in for you when he needed to.

"What did you ever see in her?" You mumbled as you began eating some of the pasta, trying not to let her lingering words bother you so much. It wasn't as though you and Namjoon were really dating, it didn't matter what you looked like anyway. If a person didn't love you for who you really were then that person didn't deserve the time of day. 

"I'm not sure, I think I was looking in the wrong direction," He laughed as he watched you eating, smiling as he couldn't help but look at you. All the years he'd known you he had been hopelessly in love with you but never realised until it was too late. Until you both in college and busy with everything else to deal with one another, he never wanted to ruin the friendship that he had with you.

"What?" You questioned as you noticed how much he was staring at you, 

"Nothing...Did you bring my favourite book with you? I might sit by the pool with you tomorrow," He was trying to change the subject and distract his own mind from thinking about you in that way.

"Do you have spare blankets over there?" You asked Namjoon later when you were back in your room, 

"Yeah but I don't think you'll need them, it's summer." He chuckled looking up to see you standing over at the sofa in the bedroom getting ready for bed. You were dressed in one of his old football shirts from high school and a pair of shorts. Namjoon's mouth nearly fell open, he'd seen you in his clothes before but this was something different.

"I meant because I'm on the sofa, I can't sleep without something covering me," You laughed awkwardly when you felt how much he was beginning to stare at you, you shifted your weight from one foot to the other. 

"Why are you on the sofa? We have a huge bed right here," He laughed pointing at the large California King Bed that was in the room but you never would have thought that he would be okay with sharing with you. 

"You want to share a bed? You? Mr Kim Namjoon who hates being cuddled?" You laughed as you slowly made your way over to the bed, pulling back the covers a little. 

"Don't worry, it's not as if I'm going to cuddle you in the night." It wasn't something that worried you though, it was a thought that excited you.

The next morning Namjoon bought breakfast up to you on the balcony, telling you that he and the boys were going to go for a hike. 

"Sure, sounds good...Get some good photos," You told him as you bit into the apple he'd bought up to you, he smiled just watching you. That morning he'd woken up before you to find himself wrapped around you, one arm draped over your waist while your legs tangled together under the thin sheet you had both chosen to sleep in. 

"I will, what are you planning on doing today?" The plan was to sit in the bedroom and avoid Kyong as much as possible but you knew it wasn't going to happen, 

"I'll sit by the pool and read...Maybe go for a swim or bike into town." There was a small village just down the road, it was almost a two-hour walk but maybe an hour on the bike if you were lucky. 

"Sounds like a good idea, maybe I can ride with you later. We can get some snacks to bring back," Agreeing with him you couldn't wait for the day to pass just so you could spend some quality time with him but right now you were looking forward to curling up beside the pool. 

"Have a nice time," You whispered to Namjoon as you stood by the back gate of the house, all of the boys were getting ready to leave on their hike, the girls staying behind. 

"Wait!" You turned around to see Kyong rushing over in hiking boots, a coat and some short shorts that were going to do nothing to protect her from the bugs and nettles that could get her out there.

"You're going too?" You questioned as you looked from her to Namjoon, it was clear he had no idea it was going to happen. 

"Yeah. Me and my boys going for a long hike. It'll give me and Joonie a chance to chat." Hearing your nickname for Namjoon roll out of her mouth made your blood boil and you wanted nothing more than to trip her up but Namjoon looked at you and you instantly felt calmer. 

"Baby please come with me, it won't be the same without you." Frowning you stared at him wondering what he was doing when he pulled you close to him by your waist, leaning his face down so close to yours that you could feel his breath on your skin. 

"Fine, let me change..." You looked at him going to leave when Kyong scoffed at the pair of you, 

"Not even a kiss goodbye?" It was obvious that she didn't believe you and Namjoon were truly dating and you knew Namjoon wanted her to believe it so you grabbed him back the back of the neck and kissed him. The moment your lips touched it felt as though your legs had turned to jelly and you were about to fall but Namjoon held you steady, holding you by the waist as he pulled you closer to him enjoying the kiss between you. For that moment no one else was around you, it was just the two of you as you finally kissed for the first time, your heart hammering against your chest as if it was trying to escape. 

"I'll go and change," You whispered as you pulled away, your voice was hoarse as you stared at him biting down on your lip as you hoped that would happen again. 

"I'll wait here," His voice was almost as hoarse as yours as he watched you run back into the house, his eyes never leaving your body until you disappeared. 

"Well, that was a nice performance," Kyong mumbled but Namjoon didn't hear her, he just waited for you to return. 

The week was almost over and you were enjoying your time there more than you originally thought you were going to. You and Namjoon spent a lot of time with everyone else which meant pretending to be a couple most of the time, holding onto one another, kissing him whenever you had the chance. It started to feel as though you were pretending anymore and that this was really happening, even if you knew deep down inside that there was nothing to this. That it would all be over as soon as you got back to your dorms but for now you were going to soak up as much of his attention as you could get for yourself. 

"I don't like being blindfolded Joonie, it makes you think you're up to something," You whined as he continued to walk you through a bumpy area, you could hear gushing water and footsteps but that was all. He let out a deep laugh that seemed to echo around wherever you were and you whined again, 

"Relax, here-" He began to untie the make-shift blindfold and you let your eyes adjust for a second to see that you were somewhere you'd never seen before. It was a cavern that had a pool of water inside, flowers spreading over the walls of the cave, the walls and ceiling seemed to have silver reflecting on them because of the water. 

"Hot springs," He said with a smile, bending down to touch the water as it began bubbling, your mouth almost dropped open at the sight. 

"I didn't bring a bathing suit, you didn't tell me what we were doing," You laughed softly as you looked at him and then to the pool behind him, it looked as though it was going to be relaxing. 

"Is it deep?" He shook his head in answer to your question, 

"Probably reach your shoulders, there are some rocks just under the water we can sit on and relax." He promised as he began to unbutton the white shirt he was wearing, you gasped and turned away not wanting to make him uncomfortable. 

"I didn't bring a bathing suit. I'll wear my underwear, it's just the same," He said as he looked at you, hoping that you would do the same but not once saying what he wanted out loud. 

The two of you sat there side by side in the water just enjoying the peace and quiet, Kyong had done nothing but follow the two of you around all week long leading you to "pretend" you were both together for as long as possible.

"This week has been one of the most amazing times of my life," You told him as you rolled your head over to look at him, your gaze meeting his as he smiled at you. You didn't know if it was the low lighting or just because our feelings for him were resurfacing but his eyes seemed to sparkle, as though they had a golden hint to them.

"Even with all this pretending, that's been going on?" He questioned as he looked at you, biting down on his lip as you shrugged, 

"There's been one thing that's bugging me all week." He sat up straight making you do the same as you watched him, tilting your head to the side as you waited for him to elaborate on what he meant.

"I don't want to pretend...I want to be yours and I want you to be mine." Closing the distance between your mouths, you kissed him. At that moment it was clear that everything you had been feeling that week, the sparks, the butterflies, was all real. Everything you felt for him he felt the same for you and it excited you. He placed his hands on your waist lifting you up and placing him on his lap under the water as you continued to make out in the hot springs. 

His teeth biting down softly on your bottom lip as he asked for entrance, which you gladly granted him, letting your hands wander into his hair as you tugged him closer to you. 

"We're not pretending?" He questioned as you pulled away to catch your breath, you shook your head desperately, 

"Never again," You whispered before reconnecting our lips with his, going back to your steamy make-out session in the water.

Namjoon left soft kisses on your shoulder as the two of you laid naked in the bed, looking out at the night sky as you cuddled with one another. The two of you had made it back late after your make out in the hot springs and continued your session in the bedroom where it lead to more. 

"I'll go get us a snack," He chuckled as he heard your stomach growling, even if it was almost 3 am you were hungry from the activities you had both done together. 

"Thanks," You kissed him softly as he changed into a pair of shorts and a white shirt, disappearing out of the door and leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Letting out a small excited squeal you laid back against the pillows and smiled to yourself, you never thought this day would come and now it had, you couldn't contain yourself. Everything you had ever wanted was becoming a reality.

Time passed and Namjoon still wasn't back with your snack, you figured he was going to cook something so you laid there for a second, trying to rest a little before he came back not expecting to fall asleep within seconds of closing your eyes.

Waking up alone the next day you frowned to yourself, he was supposed to be beside you,

"Joonie?" You called out as you changed into some leggings and a baggy shirt thinking maybe he had gone for an early walk or something. You headed down to the kitchen shocked to see Kyong nursing a hangover but that wasn't the part that shocked you. The part that shocked you was that she was dressed in nothing but Namjoon's shirt, the one he had put on the night before to go and make a snack for you. 

"I made this, drink it." Namjoon's voice called out to Kyong as she smirked at you, turning her head to look over at him and that was when you saw the deep purple bite marks up and down her neck. At that moment it felt as though your whole world was falling apart as you put it all together, dressed in his shirt, he was looking after her and she was covered in marks.

"I-I can't believe it," The glass Namjoon was holding slipped from his hand and smashed against the floor, the green liquid splashing all over the white floors and cabinets while Kyong smirked. 

"Y/n, it isn't what it looks like." You scoffed at him, rushing back up the stairs towards the bedroom as you began throwing clothes into your bag, trying to get some money together as he begged you not to overthink it. 

"It's not what it looks like," He pleaded as he stood in the way of the door so you couldn't leave the bedroom, 

"Was she dressed in your shirt?" You questioned as you stared at him, his eyes widened with panic,

"Yes, but-"

"Was she covered in hickies?" You asked him again, cutting him off. All you needed were the answers you knew exactly what had happened. He fell back into her arms the way he always did, crawling back to her every time.

"Yeah, but that-"

"You didn't come back last night, were you or were you not with her?" His face fell and he didn't answer, tears rushed to your eyes as you pushed past him heading down the stairs and in the direction of the front door. 

"You can't just leave, we're miles away from home." He called out as he chased after you, Kyong holding onto his arm as she whined at him not to yell anymore. 

"That's my problem to deal with," You mumbled as you threw your bag over your shoulder and took one of the bikes, heading to town was the best plan for now. Once you were there you could figure out where to go by Kyong groaned at you, 

"They're for people staying on this holiday." Locking eyes with her you threw the bike onto the ground before heading down the long driveway, ready to start your long walk back into the town. 

"Y/n!!" Namjoon yelled as he chased you down the road, grabbing you by the hand as he made you look at him.

"You have to let me explain, I know how it looks." At this point your tears were already rushing down your face as you looked up at him, you thought that he would be the one person you could trust in the world. He knew how much it hurt to be cheated on and yet he still did it to you, was it even cheating? Were you nothing more than a fling for him? 

"What was it? I was just there until she decided she was jealous enough to take you back? Or were you both in on a joke about it, she knew I had a crush on you and thought she could get kicks out of it?" He didn't blame you for being angry but he held your arm as he tried to make sure you listened to him.

"You thought, I can't screw my ex so why not fuck my best friend over instead?" Namjoon's eyes watered as he stared down at you waiting for you to finish,

"How could you ever think I would hurt you like that?"

"Because you did-"

"No. I didn't. I went down to get you food last night and I found her, drunk and on the floor covered in her own vomit." You pulled a disgusted face as he explained what had happened, leading you over to a rock as he sat you down beside him. 

"She was covered in her own vomit, along with bite marks, hickies. She said she'd been into town for drinks and got a taxi back. I changed her into my shirt and took her to bed but she wouldn't go to sleep without me there," You looked at him, feeling bad for accusing him of doing the one thing you knew he hated her for doing to him. 

“I sat beside the bed the whole night, I didn’t get into bed with her, I just wanted to make sure she was okay.” He sighed and you realized how much you must have overreacted.

"Joonie..." You breathed out as you felt bad for everything, 

"I know what it looked like but I would never do that to you. I'm in love with you, always have been and always will be but I loved her too...She may have hurt me but she's still a person and someone I once cared for so I wanted to make sure she was okay," That you could understand, you knew how deeply Namjoon cared for everyone he met so you weren't going to hold that against him.

"Now, please...Come back so we can drive home together..." 

"Together?" You questioned as he locked your hands together, linking your fingers with his, 

"As a couple?" He questioned looking at you, making you smile brightly as you nodded your head. 

Tagline: @lyoongx  @mitzwinchester @rjsmochii @taestannie @sw33tnight @innersooya @sweeneyblue1 @jin-from-the-block @acciocriativity​ @mwitsmejk​ @anxiousbobatea​ @justbangtanthingz​

#bts #bts x reader #bts x you #bts x y/n #bts imagine #bts imagines #kim namjoon #namjoon #namjoon x reader #namjoon imagine #namjoon imagines #kim namjoon x reader #kim namjoon imagine #kim namjoon imagines

[wincestation]

Just Tonight

Prompt: Stanford Era

Pairing: Sam x Dean

Summery: Inspired by the song "Just Tonight" by The Pretty Reckless. Sam drunk-dials Dean in the middle of the night and tells him he needs him, but after a year apart, is one night enough?

Word Count: 2,059

Written For the SPN Trope Round Robin 2021 (@spn-trope-round-robin) - Round 3 (Remix/Inspired By).

A/N: My first SPN writing challenge ever! I really enjoyed this one. Hope you do too! also, @stanfordsweater your brand is in there for a moment ;)

Read on ao3

Sam’s world is narrowed down to the sound of the dial tone. He waits in the cold, his breath forming visible little clouds. Finally, someone picks up on the other end.

“Sam.” he sighs heavily. “It’s 2am. On a Wednesday.”

Good, Sam thinks. He’s in the same time zone as me. “Dean, I need you.”

“What?” Behind Dean’s voice, Sam can hear the engine of the Impala rumbling to a halt in the background and the familiar sound almost makes him cry. “What do you need me for?”

That question has too many answers, and Sam can’t think straight, he just knows he’s cold and alone and tired and he needs his brother. “I need you to take me home,” he says in a pathetic, tiny voice, leaning against a tree to keep his head from spinning.

Dean tries to sound sympathetic, Sam knows this, but his words come out patronizing. “Can’t you get a cab or something? Or... walk?”

“Dean, please.”

“It’ll take me forever. I’m in bed.”

“No, you’re not. You’re in the car.” He feels sick. Dean never lied to him before.

His brother might be thinking the same thing, because he doesn’t reply.

“C’mon, De, please.” Sam is begging but he doesn’t care, he’s the one who left, he’s the one who hurt Dean, and if Dean wants him to beg, he will. He’ll do anything. “Start the car and take me home.”

*

“You’re drunk.” Dean says in disbelief.

Sam slides into the Impala and slouches against the seat. “And a bit high,” he confirms.

“It’s like I don’t even know you anymore,” and Sam knows he meant it as a joke, but he can’t say anything because the lump in his throat threatens to overflow if he does. He gives Dean the directions and leans his head on his brother's shoulder, ignoring the voice of reason that screams at him to stop making a fool of himself.

If Dean minds, he doesn’t show it. He drives slower than usual, as if he doesn’t want this ride to end, and for a few minutes, Sam lets himself feel a little hope.

The car stops too soon. “Looks like we’re here,” Dean says. It’s an unnecessary comment just to break the silence and Sam drags his pounding head away from his brother’s shoulder.

When he doesn’t move, Dean adds, “Need me to walk you inside?”

Sam nods. “Please,” and Dean agrees, because he could never say no to his little brother.

They both blink when Dean turns on the living room light. Sam groans and sinks into the couch while Dean looks around.

“Nice place. How can you afford - “ he stops abruptly and Sam raises his head.

Dean is holding a framed picture of Sam and Jessica, both smiling happily at the camera. She’s wearing his Stanford sweater - the one he has on right now, in fact. Dean looks at him and Sam knows he noticed that. “Didn’t know you had a girlfriend, Sammy.” his voice is bitter and he puts the picture down as if it was burning his fingertips. “So you two live together, huh? Where is she?”

“She’s - not here.”

“Is she out partying on a Wednesday, too? When is she coming back?”

Sam winces. He doesn’t want to talk about Jessica right now. “I don’t know,” he says.

Dean turns to him with a cold smile. It’s the smile that Sam fears most - the one that doesn’t show his teeth, doesn’t reach his eyes. “So you invited me in, for what? So we can wait here for your perfect little girlfriend and - “

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Sam cuts through his words. He stares at Dean angrily. “Not anymore.”

Dean looks genuinely surprised. “What, she… left you?” Sam nods. “Like, for good?”

Sam pauses for a moment. “She’ll come back eventually.” Before the cold smile can return, he clarifies, “To pick up her things, I mean.”

“Oh.” Bitterness gone now, Dean looks a bit lost in the middle of Sam’s Stanford living room, and Sam almost laughs. Dean was always better at dealing with broken bones than with broken hearts - but it’s not like Sam himself was any better. The memory of the last time he saw his brother starts to creep back at him, and although he banishes it away, it kills any chance of laughter.

“So…” Dean starts, looking at Sam, as if he wants him to say something. When he doesn’t, Dean continues, “Unless you want to cry into your pillow while I stroke your hair...”

“No - don’t go.” Sam blurts out.

Dean just stares at him. Eventually, he says, anger underlining his words, “So you want me to stay, and, what? Get you through your hangover, help you get over your breakup with college Barbie? Is this what you meant when you said you needed me?”

Sam’s too hazy to properly respond, can’t even see straight. “Just tonight, Dean, please.” His hands reach out to the edge of Dean’s jacket and he grabs handfuls of the leather, bringing Dean as close to him as possible, trying not to sob his next words, throwing any inhibition away. “Please, De, need you to stay with me.” He knows his eyes are probably leaking. He doesn’t care. He looks up to his brother’s face, trying to memorise it so he can remember it tomorrow, because right now he can’t decipher what that look of his means.

Dean grips Sam’s hands and holds them for a moment. “Just tonight.” He says at last, and lets Sam drag him onto the couch and wrap himself around him. The anxiety that bubbled up in him is settled down, and Sam allows himself to relax into his brother's arms; even if it’s just tonight.

*

The light hits Dean’s eyes and he blinks furiously before finally making out his surroundings. A moment later, last night’s memories come back to him and he sits up, completely awake.

He can hear the shower running. His nose picks up the scent of coffee - and toast, too. His watering mouth is what makes him get up eventually, and when he does he feels his clothes stick to his skin, a reminder that he slept in them last night. Sam did, too. They didn’t even bother with as much as kicking off their shoes before drifting off to sleep - together, legs tangled, arms holding each other close.

Because that’s normal, right? Nothing says “Hey, Sammy, I missed you” like a casual brotherly spooning, Dean thinks grimly and sits at the kitchen table.

He nibbles on a slice of toast while contemplating his next move. Sam is bound to leave the shower soon - it’s taking him forever, what a princess - and Dean has to be ready when he shows up. He let himself slip last night, lost in the face of Sam’s desperation, that genuine need… But he shouldn’t have stayed. He should've tucked Sammy safely into his bed, say goodnight and drive the hell away from this stupid prissy college.

Dean braces himself when he hears the water stop. Any moment now, Sam will enter the room, apologize for calling him up, and send him on his way.

Dean is already thinking of a way to tell his father about this (cuddling excluded, of course) when Sam steps into the room, casually rubbing a towel over his wet hair, completely naked.

“Dude, what the - “

“Oh - shit, Dean, I thought you were still asleep.” Sam flashes an embarrassed, apologetic smile as he wraps the towel around his waist. Dean feels heat creeping up his cheeks and tries his hardest to repress it, seriously, it’s supposed to be Sam who blushes like a girl, while Sam sits in the chair in front of him and grabs a piece of toast.

Trying to keep his eyes away from his almost-naked brother, Dean stares at the clock on the wall, trying not to think of it as counting away his time. Finally he asks, eyes still fixed on the clock, “Don’t you have classes or something?”

Sam shrugs his shoulders. “Professor is sick,” He says with his mouth full. “Want me to show you around campus later?”

“Show me aro - aren't you going to apologize?” Dean snaps, moving his gaze back to his brother. He lets more anger into his words than he intended and he curses himself for it, but it’s too late to back out from this conversation now.

Sam swallows his food, troubled, and sets the rest of the toast aside. His hands drop to his lap, where he plays with the towel, until finally he says, “I’m sorry, Dean. I shouldn’t have done this.”

Disappointment starts to bloom in Dean’s chest like blood stains through a t-shirt and he pushes it away violently. This is exactly what he was getting ready for, so how come he still has any glimpse of hope? “Yeah, you shouldn’t have.”

“I was just so - “ Sam won’t look into his eyes, and traces of last night’s desperation start creeping into his voice. “When you told me all those things, I, I panicked. I was already pretty unhappy for a while - you know me and dad, always butting heads - and that was kinda like a final push or something.”

Dean has a weird feeling in his stomach. “Sam, what are you talking about?”

“I’m trying to apologize, Dean. Please, just let me finish.”

“For drunk dialing me last night and dragging my ass out here in the middle of the night,” Dean says, not asking, trying to convince himself that this is all the conversation is about.

“What?” Sam looks at him. Dean notices tiny tears hanging from his lashes, like fish caught in a net. “No. For leaving you.”

The silence thickens while they look at each other. The clock keeps ticking away in the background.

“I told you to forget everything I said,” Dean says eventually. His voice is hoarse even to his own ears.

“But that’s the thing, Dean,” Sam speaks quietly, “I just couldn’t. Even here, all those miles away from you, I couldn’t stop thinking about what you said. I tried to put it all behind me, find a girl, build myself a normal life… But I couldn’t.” His eyes are focused on the towel and Dean’s head is working overtime to make sense of this.

Sam sniffs. “I know I hurt you.” He says in a small voice. Dean sees right through him - sees his teary-eyed baby brother, who simply did something he isn’t proud of and now aches for his forgiveness. “I said things I regret.”

“Called me sick,” Dean reminds him, mercilessly. “Said I needed to go see someone to fix everything that’s wrong with me.” Many other things were said, too, but those are the only ones he can bring himself to repeat.

“But that’s the thing, Dean,” Sam lifts his head at last and meets Dean’s eyes. His eyes tell Dean he’s right - this is his best, desperate attempt to fix this. “I don’t think you’re sick anymore. I think I know how you feel.”

What is he saying?

“I tried not to, tried to run away from it. But nothing else was enough, no one else was.” He’s visibly crying now but he continues, and Dean realises Sam needs to say those things, not just to him but out loud, to make them true, to make sure there’s no turning back. “De, you’re my big brother. And I love you. I don’t care if people think we’re sick, okay? I want to be with you - “

Dean doesn’t know how he got there - he doesn’t remember getting up - but he’s kneeling next to Sam, reaching up to brush away the tears, and it’s hard to reach his face because when did his baby brother get so freakishly tall? “It’s okay, Sammy. Don’t cry.”

“Mean it, Dean. I need you. I can’t - not without you.”

Dean stands and hugs Sam’s teary face to his chest. “Not going anywhere, Sammy. I’m right here with you.” Sam wraps his hands around his big brother and they melt into each other, bright morning sunshine and the smell of burnt, forgotten coffee, and little drops of water and tears mixing together and they don’t know where Dean ends and Sam begins but that's exactly what they're craving, wouldn’t have it any other way.

#wincest #wincest fanfiction #spn trope round robin #sam x dean #my writing #stanford era #hurt/comfort #eventual fluff #sam needing dean so bad he cries is apparently my thing now

[constellaj]

just ran into your art today and. would you like to elaborate on your gay lucky in love rewrite 👀

boy would i

as always shoutouts to @crystalfloe for pitching + workshopping w me on this, ESPECIALLY on this one since it was mostly her idea!

we open up with a shot of shadow circling through amity park, looking in the windows of various citizens. danny is face-down, fast asleep; valerie is repairing some gear; tucker is being a gamer; sam is watching a horror movie; paulina is also watching a horror movie. shadow passes by all these houses and gets more and more annoyed, until he peeks the window of a large, elaborate house:

dash has drawn the curtains, turned the lights off, turned a fan up. this is his deep dark secret. he’s sitting on his bed, face lit by the dim rose glow of his laptop. the volume is turned down so low but the viewer still sees and hears him whisper along to the movie: “but we could never be together, jessica...” “but... I love you...” he’s watching a HORRIBLY cheesy hallmark romcom.

but of course nobody can KNOW he’s into chickflicks and romcoms! he’s a tough football man and it would trash his rep if anyone knew he secretly craved those deep but silly romantic stories... the tenderness, the love...

shadow has specifically been looking for a romantic.

shadow slips in and ‘possesses’ dash. possesses in quotes, because, well, even though dash is dumb and therefore easy to possess, shadow is ultimately a glorified dog, and not a fully sentient ghost; he doesn’t have any total agency in dash, and the most he can do is mess around with his emotional and hormonal balance. shadow is DISMAYED, upon entering, that dash’s deep romanticism is so repressed, and so immediately gets to work digging it out of the recesses of his brain, putting it in the forefront.

(see, what danny and the audience will learn later is, shadow is a ghost that subsists off of love. romantic love especially. he first found a ‘host’ in johnny (before he died!) because johnny and kitty were madly, ridiculously in love, and johnny especially admired kitty beyond words. they still do love each other, of course! but like all healthy relationships, they’ve learned to take breaks, and they have a ‘break week’ once every few months.)

(this, naturally, drives shadow up a WALL; after a certain level, displays of romance become like dog treats, and shadow has been downright spoiled by the overabundance of love between the two. when they take a BREAK WEEK and aren’t constantly showering each other (and therefore him!) with affection, he needs to go find another host, because clearly they do not love him and have forsaken him. they kick miette.)

since shadow’s prime host for so long has been johnny, his understanding of a few... norms... are bleeding over. dash shows up to school with a leather jacket and a motorcycle (his family’s rich, of course he’s had one). his hair is slicked back and the cologne is overpowering. while danny and others think it’s just another asshole stage of dash, kwan (as well as the popular kids, but kwan especially) notices something’s wrong. it’s not quite... dash. 

yeah, he’s happy-- well, he’s also strangely flirty with everyone (shadow is testing the waters, trying to find out who is the best match). and kwan LOVES that he’s happy. but he’s a little too daydreamy, he laughs a little too long. he is having horrible luck all day, but he just keeps taking it in stride. dash is concerned with appearances, but this is the first time he’s put in effort like it was for other people to see. he’s a little too suave. his eyes reflect just a little too much light.

and then-- luck of luck-- shadow finds the big name repressed crush.

fenton! of course!

danny did NOT want to deal with dash towering over him and slamming him into the wall, but he didn’t KNOW how to deal with dash leaning over him and telling him he looked cute. danny’s flustered! of course he is! well, yeah, dash is an asshole, he knows that, yeah he’s a stuck up rich kid, YES SAM, he knows this (sam is not fooled by a little hair gel and some high heeled leather boots), but you can’t deny he’s, well, built. and he’s weirdly suave? and nice. he’s actually being really nice. what no of course DANNY hasn’t had a crush on DASH this whole time or anything. shut up.

the fact that dash asks him to meet him in the woods at lunch (because sam, jazz, and even tucker are increasingly concerned with dash just making moves on danny, afraid it’s some new form of abuse; and lancer keeps perceiving it as bullying since that’s their dynamic and breaking it up) and he GOES is just. well. that’s unrelated isn’t it.

they kiss and danny is starting to maybe think dash just had a homophobic middle school experience like everyone else when- his GHOST SENSE GOES OFF. RIGHT HERE? RIGHT NOW??? (gee what could be causing it?) dash cracks a joke about him using too many breath mints and danny panics, bullshits an excuse, and runs off to transform and find the ghost.

dash thinks he’s been rejected and almost shakes out shadow’s possession from the sheer dismay, but shadow doubles down. no, no, we can find another crush. somewhere.

...oh hey! the ghost boy!

time to double down on the ghost aesthetics.

danny’s just finished fighting kitty (”where’s your boyfriend” “that’s none of your BUSINESS!”) when there’s a motorcycle rev underneath him. there’s... dash, again, but.... something feels very, very wrong.

danny lands, cautious. “hey phantom... you into biker dudes?” “don’t you have... a boyfriend...” “heee sorta dumped me in the woods”. and then danny gets close enough for his ghost sense to go off. and it clicks.

“dash, you’re possessed”

this is the ONE THING that shadow can’t have. this could be the perfect romance, and THIS GHOSTCHILD thinks he knows more about ROMANCE than SHADOW??? PSH. cue fight scene! dash of course is grappling with both not wanting to hurt phantom, but wanting this ghost out of his system, because of COURSE he’s possessed geez why else would he want to kiss FENTON of all people-- but shadow REFUSES to leave, slowly building more and more monstrous elements onto dash, darker eyes and claws, erasing his legs until it’s not dash as much as it is a large shadow monstrosity with dash at the center.

danny eventually realizes he needs a new strategy and runs for it. after a decent amount of bickering with sam/tuck, they realize that the only ones who would know how to tame shadow are.... kitty and johnny.

turns out, when shadow went missing, kitty NOTICED. (johnny didn’t! he was having a fun alone time working on his bike with loud music.) this is bad. why? well, johnny is NOT a very powerful ghost. in fact, he’s sort of the opposite. he and shadow have a symbiotic relationship of sorts; it’s shadow’s residence in him that gives him any powers at all, like the basic healing factor a ghost has, or phasing, or flying. without shadow he’s essentially a zombie, who can still be hurt in the ghost zone. NATURALLY, kitty decided to run off and retrieve shadow (because this isn’t the first time he’s run away on break week, always throwing a tantrum) before anything horrible could happen to Johnny; this is what she was doing in Amity in the first place

this is the part of the story where i reveal that the ending isnt fully fleshed out yet. in the rough conversation right it ended up with kitty and johnny trying to FORCE shadow back into johnny, and they’re getting annoyed by it, and kitty goes “well this wouldn’t be a problem if YOU weren’t so LOVING AND SENSITIVE” and johnny goes “well i wouldn’t LOVE YOU so much if you weren’t BRILLIANT and BEAUTIFUL” and they have a whole argument like that. its very funny. and shadow ends up still running away and possessing dash again.

ah, in typing this out, i have figured out an ending!

the above fight and run away happens, and there’s two endings: one where shadow possesses dash, and one where shadow possesses danny. in both, of course, the other party realizes the only way to get shadow out is through making shadow feel safe enough to leave, aka... flooding the room with romance. if dash is possessed, danny and co. realize that danny’s the prime candidate to... be the suave lil boy. if DANNY is possessed, sam and tucker begrudgingly explain that, uh, yeah, phantom might have a crush on you, he’s just really controlling of his emotions. (also kwan! kwan definitely plays a part if dash is possessed, maybe even in saying “uh... he has a bigger crush on Fenton. can you guys get him instead?” and danny. explodes)

blahlbahblah luring shadow out by being gay happens and shadow gets scooped back up by the 13s. as much as the previous argument is funny it might also be very funny if johnny literally noticed none of this, and kitty shows up like ‘you lost this’ and johnny is like. ‘...shadow? when did you leave’. anywho.

that’s the concept! the MAIN difference is that johnny and kitty actually have a very healthy and sweet relationship, and the conflict, ironically, comes from the fact that they love each other TOO much. i do love ‘dash finds out’ reveals but as far as an episodic romp goes, this might not be the best ep for him to discover the secret in. however in a oneshot or something of course you could slot that in there excellently i believe.

#danny phantom #dash baxter #fic #ish... sort of. not really i guess LMAO #ask #dashposting #lucky in love #johnny 13 #kitty 13 #Anonymous #adpRewrite

[danny-chase]

Dick Grayson Week Day 4

Prompt: Bruce hits Dick and doesn’t get away with it

Summary/Notes:

A Spyral fixit where the family finds out about Nightwing 30. Perspectives are from Tim and Jason, but Steph, Cass, and Damian make an appearance. Quotes taken from Forever Evil 7 and 8, and Nightwing 30. Tw for swearing, angst and domestic/child abuse (because canon is terrible and I can’t leave it the way it is).

Edit: I have an AO3 account now yay! Read here

“I’ll be right back.” Tim chirped as he left to pull some files out of his room. He could feel his friends’ gazes lingering on him as he left. He had to suppress an eye roll. He was fine. Your pseudo-dad/adopted-father-before-you-emancipated-yourself loses his memory and suddenly everyone thinks there’s something wrong with you. Figures. Bruce was happier this way. And maybe, one day, he’d be able to get to know him again. Maybe not as sorta-father and son. But Bruce 2.0 liked volunteering with kids, running charity events. Maybe they could be business partners, or coworkers. It wasn’t like last time. But that didn’t mean Cassie, Bart and Kon weren’t worried. No matter how many times he tried to explain, they wouldn’t listen. It was better this way. Bruce was happier without them. Without him. It stung at first sure, but he was over it. He could handle it. Even if the knot in his stomach told him otherwise.

His fingers brushed the lines on the hallway as he strode through Titan’s Tower. The halls seemed so much smaller than they used to be. Logically, he knew they were the same size. But they weren’t the same walls as when he’d first visited. And those hadn’t even been the first wall either. “We’ve had to rebuild this place like at least a million times.” Dick had told him. The knot tightened. Don’t think about it, he reprimanded himself. He’d been having a nice afternoon. It was relaxing, staying with his friends. But he couldn’t walk through the halls without feeling like a trespasser. This was Dick’s team. This was his home away from home. Who was he kidding? He was no Dick Grayson. Dick’s friends used to look to him for guidance, for advice, for help with problems, personal and business related. Tim used to look to him for guidance, advice and help. Stop thinking about him, he tried again. Forget the Crime Syndicate. Forget the funeral. Don’t stress, repress. He paused for a moment, stared aimlessly out the window, took a few deep breaths, cleared his mind and continued on his way.

Climbing the stairs, he decided it was better to use his mental faculties to go through the case he was working on. Jason had called two days ago asking about some of his old informants in Gotham, Penguin was apparently moving back onto the scene and reorganizing the structure of some of the newer gangs. Cleaning house. Informants were switching names, following their own protocols. Bruce had written some contingency in a classified file somewhere. The issue was where. The damn batcomputer had like a billion files on it. And Barbara knew the system, but was busy coordinating for the JLA and had put them on “Do not Disturb” mode for the foreseeable future. He could write a program to search for it. Stupid Bruce and his stupid files that he’d kept secret from them. “It was on a need to know basis.” He could almost here the defensiveness in Bruce’s voice if he tried hard enough. He nearly face planted as he miscalculated the number of stairs. Maybe they should just go back to their old Young Justice base. Or wait till the building inevitably explodes again and just make it better. That would be fun. Designing a Teen Titans base with slides and escalators. Bart would be thrilled. Bart could probably build it in 5 minutes. Dick wouldn’t approve, his brain felt the need to remind him. Tim nearly huffed. Well Dick is de-.

He abruptly lost his train of thought. There was noise coming from his room. Someone was sniffing, was someone crying in his room? Who was even in his room? Everyone was downstairs. Cissie and Steph were visiting in the lounge, Greta left a few days ago, the new kids were in the gym getting a feel for the equipment. The hell? His heart pounded a bit louder as he silently slunk towards his rooms. If Dick decided to haunt him from beyond the grave this was not cool. The lights flickered. Tim nearly screamed. He could feel cold sweat gathering in his palms, his heart racing, thoughts pounding in his skull. It’s just one of Bart’s pranks, no one can get in without access. He slid next to his door and pulled up the camera feed on his glove’s embedded computer. They weren’t in lockdown, but it couldn’t hurt to check. Few clicks here, few taps there and…Damian? Tim burst through the door, half relieved and fully confused.

“What are you doing here?” Tim half yelled, Damian startling on the bed as he burst into his room. Tim flicked the lights on as the gremlin crossed his arms in response. Tim shut the soundproof door, no need to bother Kon with this.

“I was given access to the tower as well.” He stated monotonously. Tim frowned; something was off. Damian didn’t just show up in his room. Come to think of it, he hadn’t seen the kid in weeks. Not since Bruce went all amnesiac on them. Where was he even staying. Damian shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. There were dark circles under his eyes, he was paler than usual, but flushed, his eyes bright. Had he been crying in here? “Quit gawking at me, Drake.” He spat, jolting Tim back into reality.

He almost opened his mouth to throw some insult back. Almost. He saw the kid’s lip tremble just so slightly, and he bit his tongue. The kid’s hands were shaking. “What’s up?” He replied cautiously. Keeping the demon brat in line wasn’t in his job description. But the kid had had a rough couple months. Dying, coming back to Dick being dead, Bruce losing his memory. He could help with whatever this was and-

“Grayson is alive.”

-send the kid back to Alfred, he knew the kid better than he did. He had his pets at the manor to keep him company, maybe he’d see if Jon would be willing to have a sleepover or something. Spring break was coming up soon, maybe he could take a trip out to Kansas-

“Drake!” Damian was waving a hand in front of his face. Tim blinked a few times. He hadn’t said…had he? That wasn’t right Dick was-

“Richard is alive, I can prove it.” There was desperation in the kid’s voice, water in his eyes. The trash can was filled with tissues, it had been empty when he left. His shirt was on inside out. Tim inhaled sharply. Fuck. Tim had been there. He’d done that. Denied reality. Gone on a wild fairy tale goose chase. Chased insane dreams. Sure, it had worked. But this was different. They had a body. We had a body then, his mind helpfully supplied. There was no real evidence. It had worked hadn’t it? Denying Bruce’s death out of reality? But Dick couldn’t be alive. Bruce had seen him die. Clark saw Bruce die, his brain again helpfully supplied. Tim studied Damian’s face carefully. He looked two steps away from a mental breakdown. Was that how I looked? He wasn’t exactly looking in any mirrors at the time. Dick had try to talk him back down, that was the wrong move. He’d doubled down. But Damian wasn’t him and Tim had no idea what to do. Damian stared at him, studying his face carefully. Tim could feel his palms sweating again, when had he started clenching his fists? His brain was ticking through options, tell Damian he believed him – high chance of heartbreak, low chance of kid running off and doing something stupid on his own. Try and talk him down – still some heartbreak, but can mitigate, medium to high chance of him running off. Call Alfred – should he really do that though? The kid came to him. Alfred’s busy dealing with amnesiac Bruce. Call someone else? Why did the kid come to him in the first place? Damian hated him, he wouldn’t come to him unless he was really sure, or really desperate. Does he think I can replicate what happened with Bruce? Time seemed to move like molasses. Tim swallowed. Now or never.

“I believe you.” He replied. Damian’s eyebrows furrowed, but his shoulders fell ever so slightly, and he rocked back on his heels, uncrossing his arms and leaning into a less defensive stance. Mixed results. He prayed he sounded convincing enough. If he was going this route, he had to go all the way. It didn’t matter that he’d seen the body. It didn’t matter that Bruce saw. He needed to be on Damian’s side with this one. Just like he’d needed somebody on his side back then. Even if it was a crazy side. Even if it was a leave everyone behind and run around on a whim side. Even if it doesn’t work out, at least the kid would have someone to catch him at the end. Why did it have to be the brat though?

“You do not. But you will.” Damian said solemnly, a bit of an edge to his voice. He pulled a laptop out of a bag on the floor and hopped up on the foot of Tim’s bed. Tim quietly settled next to him, careful to not touch him. He was careful. The kid didn’t appear to be looking for a fight, but you never know. Tim glanced at the laptop screen.

“DAMIAN NO WHAT THE-” He screamed. Damian nearly leapt of the bed. His face turned red.

“-tt- Grow up Drake, this is for research purposes only, that is not-” He started mumbling.

“You’re on DICK GRAYSON THIRST POST WEBSITES for RESEARCH!” Tim half screamed, attempting to lower his voice. Damian flushed harder.

“SHUT UP DRAKE!” He countered. Tim took deep breaths. Dear god, he needed to bleach his eyes after this. He did not need to know these threads existed. Fucking reddit. Humanity has gone too far. There were 20k followers. He peeked over again, the latest posts were from this morning. His mouth was dry. These people were lusting over his dead brother. It was sick, it was fucking disgusting it was-

“Wait what’s that picture?” Tim asked.

“-tt- If you would allow me to explain instead of losing your head, I can show you.” Damian grumbled. He clicked on the picture to enlarge it. “I’ve run the calculations, biometrically, the body shape is a 99.97% match.” Tim let out a low whistle. It wasn’t much to go on. You couldn’t see the figure’s face, he was turned away from the camera. Whoever took it was definitely aiming for a certain portion of the man’s body.

“Have you talked to the poster?” Tim inquired. Damian nodded.

“This subreddit is dedicated to…” Damian made a revolted looking face, “capturing casual images of Grayson in unsavory positions.” He nearly squirmed as he finished the sentence. “I was attempting to research the details of Grayson’s perceived passing and came across this website.” That was a different kind of trauma in Tim’s opinion. “The image caught my eye. He has fans in Ireland, that is where it was taken. These fans are apparently experts at picking him out.” Damian scrolled through some earlier posts to prove his point. “It is odd.” He added pointedly. Tim’s mind was racing. It was hardly evidence. It could have been anyone. But he was right. The perverts were good. They even had a few of Dick in disguise doing undercover work, none of his face of course. But Dick couldn’t be in Ireland. Tim went to the funeral. Bruce went to the funeral. Bruce saw Dick die. Bruce wouldn’t lie about something like that. He never told you about the Joker. His mind supplied. No. Bruce wouldn’t. Bruce couldn’t. He wouldn’t put them through that grief. Not after Damian. Not after all the lies. He promised he wouldn’t lie to them like that. The picture couldn’t be real. But Damian kept scrolling. There were more. In multiple countries. It couldn’t be possible. There was no way. People joked his brother’s butt was iconic but this was ridiculous.

“Drake?” Damian sounded so cautious. Tim was confused. The pictures all looked so real. So accurate. Could they be photoshopped? That could explain it.

“Did you get any of the original files?” He asked much too hastily to appear calm. A smile flicked on Damian’s face for a millisecond.

“You believe me.” Damian stated, half disbelievingly. Tim bit his lip. He didn’t want to. He couldn’t. If he did, then he didn’t believe Bruce. Damian cleared his throat. “I have already examined a few of the original photographs. Their phones were laughably easy to hack.” He looked smug for a mentally unhinged eleven-year-old. “They do not appear to be tampered with.” Tim could feel his heart thudding in his chest. Dick couldn’t be alive. It wasn’t possible. He saw the body. Bruce was in the cave for a week going over it. Not allowing anyone in. No… Fuck…

“What did you do?” He muttered under his breath. Damian looked at him inquisitively, a determination burning in his eyes. Tim hadn’t seen any of the proof himself. And he believed Bruce unquestioningly. That was the opposite of what the man had taught him. But there was still something off. He looked searchingly at Damian. “Dick wouldn’t do that to us.” He couldn’t. Dick would never do something like that. He would tell them. He wasn’t like Bruce, he was reliable. Dick didn’t keep secrets like that. He wouldn’t fake his own death and leave them to fend for themselves. Not after Damian died. After everything they’d lost, after everything he’d lost. Dick wouldn’t do that to him. Damian’s eyes flickered toward the ground, and he frowned.

“Maybe he can’t tell us.” Is all he had to offer. It seemed like a sore spot. Tim didn’t push it. It was probably driving the kid insane. Dick, galivanting across the world, not checking in, not coming back to tell them he was okay? The odds were astronomically low. Dick was a constant. He was their brother. He was a Robin. Robins don’t do that to each other. Steph did, his brain helpfully supplied. But that wasn’t Steph’s fault. Tim dug his nails into his palms. He needed to know. He needed proof. He needed to see the footage, go over the evidence. He didn’t doubt Dick, but his mind was itching. He wouldn’t be able to sleep unless he knew for sure. Hell, Damian probably couldn’t either.

“Look, here’s the plan.” Tim said, his mind racing. Damian stared at him intently. Wow the kid really was desperate if he was willing to listen to him. “I’ll tell Kon I’m taking you home, that you need some help on a case, then will slip out. Maybe, maybe someone close to the family is compromised.” He said, a bit unsure. That could explain the lie. If there was one. Please let there be one. Damian nodded, stuffing his laptop back into his backpack. Tim crossed the room and grabbed the door handle.

A barely audible “Thanks.” reached his ears as he flipped off the lights.

  Jason groaned as he checked his messages. He really didn’t want to go through the batcomputer files. It would be faster if Tim did it, plus he had a lower chance of accidentally messing something up. Not that the file system wasn’t already a disaster. Touch the wrong button and you’re locked in the cave till Alfred realizes something’s wrong.

Tim had stopped responding to his messages two days ago, and well, he couldn’t wait any longer. And so, he found himself zipping through the tunnel systems that led into the cave. It was better to avoid the manner if possible. Happy Bruce wasn’t high on the list of people he wanted to see. That dude was fucking weird. It made him feel weird. It did feel good to cross amnesia off his yearly family bingo though. Now he just needed someone to trip during an interview and he’d break Cass’s winning streak. At the rate they were checking things off, maybe he should start a second batch and make it biannual. That or change the prompts. They were getting predictable.

He rolled to a stop inside the cave, and nearly rolled his eyes seeing the mess of skid marks on the floor. Seriously, tires are expensive, why his siblings couldn’t park like normal human beings was beyond him.

Someone was clacking away on the upper platform. Oh, thank God Tim was probably here, figuring it out before he could mess everything up. Cass poked her head over the railing, Jason cocked an eyebrow at her as he removed his helmet. She grinned and jumped over it, catching the fireman’s pole and sliding down. Someone was going to break an ankle doing that, could he add that to the bingo cards? Stupid non-work related injury was already on there, maybe upgrading it to stupid broken bone would suffice. Dick broke his nose outside Denny’s at 3am last year during a post mission party. Hands down one of the best nights of Jason’s life. Too bad his family members decided to die at least once a year.

“I’m about to win bingo.” Cass whispered as she brushed past his shoulder. That jolted Jason out of his bittersweet thoughts.

“Bullshit.” He growled back, bingo was his this year. She smugly wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

“Sorry brother.” She said sweetly, leaning her head into his shoulder. She let out a long sigh. And then Jason finally remembered that it most the squares weren’t exactly fun.

“Wait, the fuck’s going on?” Fuck, he really didn’t want to deal with this right now. Nobody could have died Dick checked that off, amnesia was gone, Gotham destroyed was gone, natural disaster was checked, Joker breaks out and does dramatic shit was gone too. But that wasn’t a good sigh, that was a ‘I’m so tired of this family sigh’, which could narrow it down a bit. Cass squeezed his shoulder.

“Family secrets.” She admitted, giving him a melancholy look. Jason groaned. This family was the fucking worst. Bruce wasn’t even really part of it right now, who the hell was keeping secrets? Damian. Had to be Damian. Little monster was just like his dad. Fuck. Dick taught the kid better than that. What kind of mess was he in?

Cass took him by the wrist and started dragging him towards the stairs. He resisted briefly as they got to the base. He needed to know. “Who’s is it?” He asked, planting his feet on the ground.

Cass bit her lip, looking extremely uncomfortable. Jason pulled back his arms and crossed them, keeping his expression as neutral as he could, but she could probably read his mood anyways.

“HA. HAHAHA HA. FUCK YOU BRUCE! TAKE THAT SHIT-COMPUTER!”

Jason nearly jumped out of his skin at Tim’s screeching from upstairs, Cass was running up the stairs, not waiting to see if he was coming. Jason sighed. It was going to be on of those days. He took a deep breath and headed up behind her.

Tim was doing a victory dance in front of the computer. Damian was crawling out from under the computer, a shit eating grin on his face. They both looked (and smelled) a mess. Definitely neither had showered in a few days, probably hadn’t slept either.

“Todd, you are just in time to witness our victory over father.” Damian greeted, formal as ever. The brat didn’t even through an insult in there. Must be in a good mood. Well that at least explained who was keeping secrets. Stupid Bruce, keeping secrets even while an amnesiac. Screw him.

“Shall we?” Tim asked, offering a hand to Damian, which shockingly the kid took. The fuck did he miss?!?

“Uh, what the fuck?” He managed to get out. There was cowl footage pulled up on the screen. Cass was pulling chairs over from the table. He tiredly took the seat she offered him.

“Waaaaiiiiiit I have popcorn!” Steph called, pounding down the stairs.

“Steph no!” Tim moaned. “This isn’t a joke!”

“What’s family drama without popcorn?” Steph sung back. Damian huffed. Cass snickered. Jason had to smirk to himself. Dark humor was the best coping mechanism in this family. “Besides you haven’t told us what this is!” She accused. Well at least Jason wasn’t the only one who didn’t know. Tim shifted guilty at the computer, his eyes darting from Damian and then back to the group. Damian responded by huffing and crossing his arms.

“Drake did not ‘want to get your hopes up’.” He began, mimicking Tim’s voice perfectly, “-tt-His concern is unfounded, my research has been impeccable, Gr-” Tim shoved a hand over Damian’s mouth. Damian looked downright murderous.

“Look we want to watch the footage beforehand it might be-” Tim squawked as Cass lunged off the table, hopped over his shoulders and hit play on the batcomputer. “Cass wait!” He got out as the video began to play. Steph grabbed Tim from behind and dragged him into a seat.

The screen showed footage from a first-person perspective, they were walking through a doorway into a large room.

“I’m tired of secrets.” Muttered Cass as she slipped in a chair next to Steph. Damian staid standing, glaring intensely at the screen, looking strangely anguished.

“Hey, kid you can…” The invitation died in his throat. The camera moved forward into the room, revealing a beaten Dick Grayson in the center, hooked to countless machines, suspended in a metal cocoon, only his face and chest peeking out.

“Oh my God.” Came a familiar voice from the screen. A growl reverberated in the cave.

“Well Batman…” Luthor materialized on the right, “…You’ve found Nightwing.” He said, stalking forward.

Something clattered on the floor. The camera was rushing forward. Voices from the cave mixed with voices on the screen.

“Why would you want to watch this!?” shrieked Steph.

“Dick? Everything’s going to be all right. I’m here.” Bruce’s gruff voice sounded oddly strained.

“Shut up Brown!” Came Damian in a high-pitched voice.

“He never showed us the evidence.” Tim’s voice squeaked. “We have to watch till the end?”

“I’m sorry I shut you out. All of you. I didn’t want you getting hurt…I’m going to get you out of this.” Came Bruce’s shaking voice. Jason could feel a lump growing in his throat. He didn’t want to see this.

“Fast-forward?” Cass suggested, her voice equally shaken. Jason could barely see the others in the cave, his eyes were glued to the screen.

“No…You need to…leave.” Came Dick’s horse whisper of a voice. “You need to go…”

Damian made an inhuman noise, which allowed Jason to tear his eyes off the screen.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Muttered Tim. “We can’t fast-forward we need to know what happened.” He forced a sense of determination into his voice. “This is why I didn’t-”

THOOM. The sound rumbled through the cave. Jason jumped out of his seat. The camera whipped around revealing the exit sealed off, with Luthor, Selina, and Bizzarro trapped inside.

“-you guys can still leave.” Tim said shakily.

BA-DEEP. Blared through the speakers. BA-DEEP.

“What is that?” Came Selina’s voice, her usual smooth and silky persona dropped. BA-DEEP.

“It’s a countdown. This isn’t just a fancy pair of handcuffs, Catwoman. It’s a bomb.” Came Lex’s gruff voice. The camera turned again showing a timer counting down from 5 minutes. Jason’s stomach painfully twisted at the reminder of another countdown in another sealed building.

“We’re staying.” He managed to get out. He might have heard noises of affirmation.

WHAM. “The door. The walls. Why can’t we break through them?” Came Luthor’s voice.

“This cell was designed to hold Doomsday, Luthor.” Came Bruce’s voice again. The camera showed him messing with the panel. BA-DEEP.

“Is the countdown monitoring his heart?” Selina asked from seemingly far away.

“Yes.” Boomed Bruce’s voice. BA-DEEP.

“Why?” Replied Selina.

“The detonator is hooked into it.” Bruce responded. Jason’s heart sunk. “He died in a death trap. There was no way out.” Bruce had told him before the funeral. BA-DEEP.

“Batman…The bomb…” Dick whispered. BA-DEEP. Jason spared another glance at Damian. There were tears beginning to form in his eyes, but he stared, glued to the screen all the same. “…It only disams…If my heart stops.” Jason could feel his chest tightening painfully. “I die…or we all die.” BA-DEEP.

“Maybe Bruce had a reason for not showing this to us.” Steph said shakily. Jason glanced over. She looked green. Her sleave and eyes were both wet. The sounds of the heart monitor echoed in the cave.

BA-DEEP. “Please…Listen to me…” Dick’s horse voice started again. Tim was muttering frantically to himself. “You still have time to get yourself out of here.” The camera was so close. Jason could see every cut on his brother’s face, could see the sweat on his brow, the blood trickling down from his nose.

BA-DEEP. “I am not leaving you, Dick. I am not abandoning you.” Bruce sounded much more confident that Jason felt. Too bad Bruce didn’t sound confident.

“You aren’t Bruce. And you never have.” Dick replied. Jason’s vision was blurring. All he wanted was some stupid computer files. He didn’t come to the cave to watch this.

BA-DEEP. “The only way we’re getting out of here is together…No…The wires…” Jason dug his fingernails into his palms. “…Every time I disconnect a relay, it fixes itself.” Jason bit his lip.

BA-DEEP. At some point those in the caves had gone silent. “Then there’s only one way to disarm this bomb, Batman.” Came Luthor’s voice. The video jolted violently and Bruce’s cry reverberated through the cave. Chaos erupted on the screen. A cacophony associated with their customary brand of violence echoed through the speakers, obscuring some of the voices.

BA-DEEP. “I’m saving our lives.” Jason made out. The screen was black. Jason glanced around the room. Everyone was tense. Damian was crying. Tim looked horrified. Cass was perfectly still, her expression blank. Steph looked one step away from throwing up in the empty popcorn bowl that lie on the ground at her feet.

BA-DEEP. The camera was moving again. “LUTHOR.” Boomed Bruce’s voice again. Jason caught a glimpse of the man pressing a hand over Dick’s face. “LUTHOR, YOU HURT HIM AND I WILL KILL YOU.” Cass let out the faintest gasp. Bruce wasn’t lying. How the hell was Luthor still alive? The heart monitor was stuttering. BA-DEEEEEP

“Nonononononononononono.” Came Tim’s voice. “It wasn’t supposed to-”

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

“DICK.” Screamed Bruce. The camera rushed forward.

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

“NO!” Yelled Bruce and Tim at the same time. Damian had sunk to the floor.

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

A fist kept pounding Luthor in the face relentlessly. “Batman, wait-” Luthor pleaded. This was not how Jason had wanted Bruce to break his code.

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

“YOU MURDERER!” Screeched Bruce, righteous fury echoing in his voice. The heart monitor cut off. A hand reached down to cut off Luthor’s windpipe.

“I have this…” Came Luthor’s strangled voice. He looked terrified. “Under control…Grayson…” The hand squeezed harder. “-kk-!” The man chocked. Bruce lessened up slightly. “It’s not too late, you idiot.” Spat Luthor. Bruce was apparently passed the point of listening.

“YOU MURDERED NIGHTWING.” He growled, tightening his grip once more. Luthor was going bug eyed. The man was going to actually die if Bruce pushed it much harded.

“Batman-” Came Selina’s voice.

“Luthor killed Dick, Selina.” Bruce said, his voice strangled.

“You said this lightning rod was from the future! Maybe we can use it to save him or something? I don’t know-!” She cried desperately.

A flash of light and crackle of electricity resounded through the cave. The screen went black for a moment.

Jason could hear metal clinking on the floor.

“Why are we still watching this?” Jason asked hoarsely. Tim looked at him palely.

“I need to know what happened next.” He whispered.

“If I hadn’t stopped Grayson’s heart, this ‘Murder Machine’ would have detonated and we all would have died. I had to make a choice, Batman. I made him flatline…after I forced him to swallow a cardioplegia pill.” The camera slowly tilted back up to focus on Luthor.

“A what?” Asked Steph and Selina at the same time.

“A drug that paralyzes the cardiac muscles surrounding the heart.” Replied Tim and Bruce in sync.

“Then…” Trailed off Damian. The boy looked up hopefully at the screen.

“And if this boy’s heart doesn’t get a shot of adrenaline right this very second he’s going to stay dead.” Luthor finished.

*kaff*

That small cough was the best sound Jason had heard in his entire life.

“YES!” Shouted Tim.

Damian swallowed. “As I expected.” He said shakily. No one called him out on it.

“Dick?” Came Bruce’s voice from the screen.

“Batman?” Dick’s wobbly voice whispered.

Cass tackled Steph into a bear hug, and Steph laughed widely as they clattered to the floor. Jason just sighed deeply and let his head drop into his hands in relief.

“Drake-” gasped Damian, “-get off.”

“You were right! Damian was right! Dick’s alive. HAHA Dick’s ALIVE!” Jason glanced up to see Tim squeezing the crap out of Damian who was going slightly blue in the face. There were words coming from the speakers still but they fell to the wayside in the celebration. Jason walked over and turned the volume down.

“I’m going to kill them.” Jason muttered under his breath. But he’d save that for later, for now, he just paced back to his chair and sunk into it. The cave was quiet for a few minutes, Dick and Bruce continued on whatever the fuck adventure they were on was. The rest of the video was a blur. By the end, Jason’s racing heart had settled, and the kids had stopped clinging to each other.

“But wait.” Said Steph as the video ended. “If Dick’s alive, where is he? How did you even know to look?”

Jason turned to see Tim babbling. “Well I have a few theories, we recovered more footage as well, you know? Like Damian found pictures of him all across the world so like, we don’t know for certain where he is, but like I don’t know for sure what happened, but maybe someone was compromised so like, he had to stay hidden or like…” Tim continued babbling as the next video began to play. It was once again footage from the cowl. “Bruce shut off all the camera’s in the cave for the next week, I thought he was sulking but like we were able to find some cowl footage that he deleted, and like hopefully from that we can figure out what happened and how to track him down-”

“Turn up the volume.” Demanded Cass from her seat. She was looking at the screen with an odd expression. Damian moved without hesitation. Jason’s eyes followed up to the screen. Dick was glaring into the camera his fists raised and wrapped.

“So, one more time Dick. But now there’s only one rule…You have to win.” Came Bruce’s gruff voice. The pair was in the cave. Dick lunged towards the camera. “You let the crime syndicate capture you. Let them torture you. You let them give your secrets to the world.” Bruce accused.

“Bruce man, what the fuck!” Steph yelled, masking Dick’s response.

Bruce continued “You let them turn you into a bomb. You let them kill you. Before Luthor rescued you, you let everyone WATCH YOU DIE.” He boomed.

“YOU GOTTA BE FUCKING KIDDING ME!” Jason bellowed, knocking over his chair as he stood. He walked away from the screen. Only fucking Bruce. Only fucking Bruce would blame someone for their death. Jason knew that all too well. He walked away from the screen, giving himself distance to clear his head.”

“I trained you to LIVE, and I watched you DIE!” CRACK. Jason flipped around to see Bruce elbow Dick in the face, drawing blood. Bruce’s words cut like a knife. It wasn’t Jason’s fault he died. It wasn’t Dick’s fault either. Neither Steph’s or Damian’s. Damian had unconsciously taken cover behind Tim, who was standing between Damian and the screen with an arm hovering over the kid’s shoulder.

“WHAT THE FUCK BRUCE!” Screamed Steph at the screen, she was also on her feet at this point. Only Cass’s hand prevented her from trying to fight the digital apparition. “WE DON’T JUST GO AROUND DYING WILLY NILLY, IT’S NOT MY-, IT’S NOT HIS FAULT!” Her voice shrilly echoed around the cave, drowning out the audio temporarily.

Dick was on his knees, wiping his bloody nose, looking up confused. WHACK. A powerful kick sent him flying off the platform, crashing into a costume display case. “I have a mission for you, Dick. I need you to do something that will hurt your friends. Your family.” Bruce commanded. He could hear Damian inhale sharply. Tim stopped hovering and pulled Damian tightly into his chest, rushing forward to pause the video, with the boy in tow. His hand was over the button before Cass sprung forward and grabbed his wrist. Jason had never seen Cass look this angry without the mask.

“I deserve to know.” She said with conviction, anger deep in her voice. “I deserve to know what kind of father he is.” She spat. Jason wasn’t going to touch that with a ten foot pole.

“But he shouldn’t, I mean I don’t know if, I mean I don’t know what, I mean-” Tim sputtered glancing from the screen to Damian and back again.

“I want to know the truth.” Came Damian’s tiny reply. He looked so young, he pushed away from Tim’s chest, but leaned into his side.

Cass pulled Tim’s hand back. “I fought him once.” She admitted. “I need to know.” She repeated.

Tim looked at her pleadingly. Bruce and Dick raged at each other on screen. Blood flowed from the cuts on Dick’s back. “I…I…” Tim stammered.

“We all deserve to know.” Steph piped up, leaning against the side of the computer.

“Fight like you’re alive!” Bruce yelled on the screen. CRACK. An oversized die broke on impact with the back of Dick’s head. Dick retaliated, throwing a question mark back.

The words were blurring in Jason’s head, his rage clouding his thoughts, and overtaking his senses. The rest of the world was disappearing, leaving only the screen behind. His vision tunneled. He crossed his arms as tightly as he could, willing himself to stay in place. Stay calm. His hearing cut out. But he could still read his name on his brother’s lips just before Bruce delivered an uppercut powerful enough to knock Dick off the dinosaur.

The next thing Jason knew Cass was sitting on him. People were yelling at him.

“-on’t break the screen-”

“-up I need to see-”

“-op fighting-”

Cass smiled apologetically before tapping a pressure point. Jason allowed himself to fade into the darkness.

 He came to in a medical bay of the cave, with an intense desire to get out. This place was cursed. He needed out, he needed to think, he needed to process, but he needed to get out. He pushed himself up and swung his legs off the bed.

“Wait.” Came a voice from behind him. He spun off the bed to see Tim, awkwardly standing on the other side of the cot. Jason edged towards the door. “We know where he is.” Tim offered. Jason glanced at Tim, and back to the door.

“Can we talk somewhere else?” He asked quietly. He didn’t want to be in the cave for this. Tim awkwardly bobbed side to side.

“Uh about that. We’re moving out.” He said quickly. Jason opened the door.

“OMGIT’SREDHOODHIMR.REDHOODSIRPLEASEDON’TKILLTIM-”

Jason slammed the door in the kid’s face. He stared at Tim, who was banging his head into the wall with a hand covering his eyes.

“Do I even want to know?” Jason asked. Tim groaned.

“I called my team to help us move out, we’re going to use the bunker for Gotham operations from now on.” Tim explained. A loud crash came from outside. The door whipped open.

“Heythegiantpennyisn’t-” The kid started. Jason growled at him. “-nevermindbyebye.” The speedster zipped away and slammed the door.

“You decided this without me?” Jason asked, raising an eyebrow at Tim. Tim looked back at him sheepishly.

“You’re already out voted. Besides you really want to stay here?” He replied evenly. Jason shrugged, that was fair. He’d already tried to leave. “I know you said you don’t want to talk here, but I don’t know when I’ll get you alone again.” Jason sighed. That’s valid, he was planning on avoiding the family for a bit. “Please don’t pull a disappearing act.” Jason looked up at him.

“Why not?” He challenged.

“We don’t need Bruce to be a family.” Tim replied. It sounded rehearsed. That was also fair. “And we need each other too. We found some communications from Dick, Bruce left him stranded when he got amnesia, he’s coming back in a few days.” Jason couldn’t look Tim in the eye anymore.

“I don’t know what to do.” He said honestly, looking at Tim’s shoes. What do you say after something like this? After watching something like that. After knowing the truth.

“Neither do we, but we’ll figure it out together.” Tim offered. He looked sad, tired, his face fell before he spoke again. “He…he misses us.” He spoke softly. “On the recordings. I, I don’t think Bruce even told him about Damian.” Jason swore softly under his breath. Bruce was one fucking piece of work.

“Is there anything else I should know?” Jason said after a moment, catching Tim’s eye once more.

Tim shook his head. “The rest of the tape was mostly the same.” He said quietly. “He won.” He added as an afterthought. Jason snorted. Tim gave a warry smile. None of them ever won. Not in the ways they wanted to. Only when the prizes were more pain, more guilt, more heartbreak.

Jason leaned back against the wall. How was this the way things ended up? Was Bruce always this cruel? The man was unrecognizable to Jason. It was inexcusable. After Willis? After Cain? After Brown? Hell, even Tim’s father was emotionally abusive before he died. Why couldn’t any of them have a normal father? A stable parental relationship. It wasn’t fair. And it hurt more because he didn’t even know where it started. Bruce had been a good father to him. Had that been a lie? He’d never looked to closely at why Dick had left home, could it be that…that…? Had Jason missed something like this? Would he ever even know what he’d missed? They didn’t have as many cameras back then.

Tim had crossed the room and put a hand on his shoulder. “He’ll be okay.” He said confidently. “As long as we have each other, we’ll all be okay.” Tim squeezed his shoulder gently before disappearing through the door into the chaos that used to be his childhood fantasy. When had it all gone so wrong, he had to ask himself. He hated that he knew the answer. His death was this fucking family’s original sin. But you know what, that wasn’t his fault. Even if it felt like it. Even if Bruce still blamed him. Dick didn’t look at him like a ghost, he didn’t look at him like a kid in over his head, like a regret, like a mistake. It was time for Bruce to grow the hell up and move on. Bad experiences don’t justify beating your kids. Maybe from here, they could move on. Maybe from here on, they could heal. Maybe they could start over. Maybe they could make their own new family. Bruce had abused them, lied to them, manipulated them enough. It was time to rise from the ashes like a phoenix and fly again. He wouldn’t know unless he tried. He didn’t have to give up on Gotham. But maybe it was time to give up on Bruce.

Jason swung open the door, descending into a future unknown, diverging from the circle of heartache and abuse. He had broken the cycle once before, on his own, with a new family made of friends, one of his choosing. And now he chose to break it once more, and this time he resolved not to leave his siblings behind.

#dickgraysonweek2021 #dickgraysonweek #dick grasyon #nightwing #batfamily #my writing #tw domestic abuse #tw child abuse #tw swearing

[vaguely-concerned]

X-men Evolution; the great 2021 rewatch liveblog

exactly what it says on the tin, about halfway through the show I had TOO MANY FEELINGS and had to start writing some of them out haha (gets quite gambit & rogue/gambit heavy in the latter half, Because of Who I Am as a Person)

- this is my childhood’s x-men, my formative experience with them, and I’m happy to report that still seems like a good thing. the little eleven year old within me gets to geek out and have a good time with the characters and the surprisingly good animation and writing, adult me gets to CACKLE at regular intervals at the fashion/technology/absolute bonkers hot garbage comic book nonsense they use to justify a storyline every now and then, it’s been a good time 

- I was like ‘ah well it is super dated it probably won’t be quite the same now’ and then rogue’s HAIR did the THING in the opening and ‘it’s all coming back to me now’ started playing in the background... the little baby queer in me swooning across time and space

- such a good beast, both his design and the writing, my heart aches for him all the time. he’s just so passionate! about being a teacher! helping young humans learn the stuff they’ll need in life! the most wonderful nerd man, just let good things happen for him

- I’m going to go ahead and assume that rogue’s ‘crush’ on scott is more of a deeply complex psychological process about desiring normalcy and intimacy and trying to figure out if she’s queer and dealing with her emerging sexuality and latching on to the first and best safely unavailable and nonthreatening older boy to project these issues onto rather than actually being a real thing, because I respect her so much as a person and I cannot bring myself to imagine she’s honestly attracted to a man who has POSTERS OF CARS on his bedroom wall. (I’ll give jean a break just because she seems to have a longer deeper history with him that might counteract some of that libido-kill, and also she’s a jock so lol)

like I am very sorry but can u imagine being a teenage girl with any interest in a boy with model cars in his bedroom when gambit’s swanning around being a much, much, much worse choice on almost every possible level but in a teen girl kryptonite kind of way? inconceivable  

(I drag scott quite a few times in this and it’s not because I don’t love him, it’s just his tragedy to be the most draggable man in the world)

to be fair by the time gambit shows up that whole Situation has mostly played itself out I suppose but still  

- toad’s design is so ineffably brilliant, I can’t quite tell you why but that ugly cute charm has really stuck with me, he’s one of the characters I remembered the best to this day just visually

- poor evan... he truly never had a chance, did he, they just saddled him with the most 90s teen bullshit they could come up with like he’s some kind of ‘what adult writers think teens like’ frankenstein’s monster ;______; it’s not your fault honey

- poor poor POOR storm, she gets one focus episode and they were like ‘we’re going to make an episode so racist -- ‘

I’m still STUNNED at how bad it was, but undeniably I laughed hysterically to the point that my neighbours were probably worried when that dude was earnestly like ‘He [stunningly breathlessly racist caricature of a ‘witch doctor’ guy] has stolen her powers, and he’s going to use them to take over Africa!!!’ fhajsdlfhsakjldfh oh really? tell me more, like how the fUCK this could be on television within my life time fasdlfhsdkjfhsad f  just... fahjksdfh

- it’s a testament to gambit’s appeal as a character that his charm can survive what they’ve done with his hair and beard choices in this one fajskfhs regrettable but true I still fuckn LOVE him and in my highly biased yet Correct opinion he should have been around much more. get you a man who manages to stay hot through sheer Vibes even with a bowl cut

- aw scott/jean is kind of sweet in this show even if it’s taking them forEVER to get there, I like it 

- it’s very nice of rogue to not mention magneto’s romantic daydreams and nostalgic memories about charles xavier after touching his face that one time... or maybe her brain did her a service and repressed it, there’s some stuff you shouldn’t have to know about your father figure   

- the danger room is the very definition of ‘why do we even have that lever’ and I wonder what the fuck prof x does to have enough money to replace everything that gets busted all the time

- I’d say that a lot of the writing holds up surprisingly well! (but some of it is also incredibly inexcusably racist in ways that beggar belief, so... not full marks here) the characters have distinct voices and their arcs are set up and delivered on solidly for the most part, and there’s a lot of love showing through in small moments that are just there to have a funny/interesting thing to say about the characters and how their powers work separately and in combination. listen, sometimes I get so thirsty for like. basic goddamn competency in storytelling, let me have this

- ugggggh why is there captain america in my x-men have I not suffered enough... very very funny when prof x goes ‘sounds like you knew rogers personally’ and logan is like ‘I did ;)’ *all the students ganging up on steve rogers* “did you fuck our teacher, captain america?!”

- fskadfhas WHY are you showing me hot young-ified magneto’s ass fksjahfskj charles is not even here to see it, what a tragic waste erik 

- ...I was sort of kidding before but uh I think logan genuinely did fuck captain america (or at least wishes very much that he did lol)

- wanda can have a little watching the world burn. as a treat for the way every single adult in her life has fucking failed her (’aren’t they treating you well here’ professor x she’s in a straightjacket)  

- poor rogue tho can you imagine finding out after your biggest crush on a girl yet that she’s your fucking MOM in disguise... I would break out in cold sweat every time I thought about a boob forever after

- well seems like they really just had all that homoerotic rivalry stuff between quicksilver and spyke in their first ep only to never do anything with that again ever?? I mean even without the gay undertone that seems like a dynamic you spent most of an episode setting up writers what the hell haha

- dslhfkasjlh GAMBIT THERE HE IS MY BOY IS ON THE SCENE THIS IS NOT A DRILL!!! I don’t even care about his awful hair situation or the fact that his eyes are wrong here (coloured contact lenses, maybe, for a watsonian explanation? though he’d probably have to get them made special, considering he needs the sclera and the iris covered up in different ways, I’ve seen some comic panels indicating he has been known to?)

(cute little detail: when he shuffles the cards the first time we see him he ends with removing the top card to show the ace of hearts beneath <3 foreshadowing baBEY he’s a... good-ish boy deep down. hey he tries okay shit gets complicated sometimes lol) 

- cracking UP at gambit perched cheerily on the edge of a crate dispensing cards in the middle of the battle... he’s like ‘eh it’s a livin’ sfsajkhf remy stop working for supervillains just because you had nothing to do on a thursday afternoon and they said they’d pay you

- I’m guessing magneto must have imposed a strict order of silence on these guys or something because I cannot imagine any other reason for him to shut up, especially once he notices rogue is a QTE (or, far more likely, they hadn’t settled on any voice actors for the new characters until next season haha. it is kind of odd that they’re all keeping up near monastic silence, though, even sabertooth lol) 

- WHAT an epic first meeting for us rogue/gambit fans here... first his shadow like there’s fireworks going off behind him lighting him up and then he gives her the fuckn king of hearts and she’s so enchanted by his dumb handsome face she doesn’t even notice it’s about to blow up in her hands and it all happens in heavily meaningful silence afjsdfjashjk no wonder this ship ingrained itself in my hindbrain  

yeah look smug while you can remy she’s gonna have you on your knees one day and you’ll be happy about it lol

- god storm is so COOL, everything just fading out of focus when she really gets going... give her more screen time, show!!

- mystique is every person... this person... that person... that bird... that cat... that wolf... I’m not even sure she’s not also me... are you sure she’s not you? 

- holy fuck I respect the hell out of the decision to just... blow up the entire status quo in a season ender, I only vaguely remembered that (actually in general I appreciate how good the continuity is -- buildings and places that get damaged in battles need to be repaired or rebuilt, it makes the consequences feel more real even when no one gets seriously hurt. where they get the money to restore scott’s car and logan’s motorbikes every time they go cablooie is still an open question tho lol is it credit card fraud, professor? is it telepathically acquired blackmail???) 

- I first watched this when I was nine or so, so it’s a real experience to go from my starry eyed intrigued ‘oh my god... they’re teenagers’ to my horrified adult perspective of ‘oh my god... they’re TEENAGERS D:’

that goes double for the brotherhood boys honestly, I’m here with tears in my eyes like ‘I’m sorry the system has failed you so badly you’re all just a bunch of dumb kids whose caretakers clearly fucked up spectacularly’  

like lance is always waiting for mystique to come back because she’s the closest thing he has to a safe parental figure, may we speak about how crushingly depressing that is 

- rogue is so ready to throw hands at literally any moment and for that I love and treasure her immensely (I think getting to see her be so surly and unreasonable and sometimes difficult and jealous, like any teenager, meant a lot to me as a kid who was not really allowed to be any of these things, this version of the character has stayed with me so deeply. she holds on so fiercely to her right to feel what she feels and be what she is even when it’s ‘ugly’ or unreasonable, which I think plays in really interestingly with how her powers involve getting invaded by other people’s thoughts and memories to the point of overwhelming her own sense of self and the fact that she clearly has a lot of self-loathing and self-consciousness and confusion about her identity as well. I love her so much)  

- oooof this is the ‘the gang experience a microaggression’ episode huh (well more like macroagressions really)

hits a bit different with adult eyes and perspective huh

- hearing jean sound almost like a child when she says ‘that’s so unfair!’ somehow has me like ;______; -- she has to be so adult and responsible all the time, and having her be reduced to the kid she still is and should get to be in front of this awful awful man she could squash like a bug with the flick of a thought... ugh I’m Big Sad (it is funny that jean seemingly plays Every Sport tho djfhaskj)

- MY BOY IS BACK!!! this time with the duster coat and his eyes the right colour, im so happy (too bad about the subdued colour scheme tho; I adore his dumb bright pink getup with my whole heart)

it’s kind of adorable that he takes the time to take the bullies aside and go ‘I know these guys can’t wreck you without getting expelled, but I think you’ll find no law set down by god or man would stop me from doing so whenever I wanted to. so piss off and leave them alone’ lol he’s looking out for them, in his own way

- in this episode: remy lebeau wrangles some kids while looking bored yet mildly amused the whole time. what the fuck does magneto have on you for you to agree to this level of babysitting duty buddy

- fun detail I noticed b/c when I get a fave I hyperfixate: he gave rogue the king of hearts before, but he ‘introduces’ himself to the brotherhood here (lol) with the jack of hearts, probably to symbolize he’s here as someone who works for magneto in this setting and not as his own man? it’s a demotion he’s given himself there, anyway, might be he’s not very pleased about his current position huh 

- I like it when rogue and kitty team up, they’re not very effective together but their squabbling is so cute and non-aggressive 

- pietro is what draco malfoy would be if I ever found malfoy interesting to watch for even one moment, every time quicksilver talks I’m like ‘what wonderfully insufferable thing is going to come out of your mouth this time you little shit :’)’

- a) why are scott and logan shirtless for this scene? I am not complaining on the logan side of things at least but why and b) I laughed so hard I almost fell off my couch when scott asked logan if he’d ever been in love and he was like ‘once. she was the most beautiful bike I ever saw’ falsdfhaskjfhsakjlfhasklhjfd THE BEST VERSION OF WOLVERINE EVER, ACCEPT NO SUBSTITUTES 

- mystique’s sheer dedication to being a petty bitch is kind of inspirational tbh, almost makes me want to go on a completely bonkers and extra crusade of personal revenge myself  

- oooh they’re doing some genuinely cool things with vision/lack of vision in this one (it’s the scott left on his own in the desert without glasses one btw) even visually, dang! I’m so sad this show didn’t get more seasons than it did, honestly, it deserved it

- hell yeah jean wreck her, go get your man with the suspiciously specific clothing damage normally done to female characters 

awww :’) okay yeah they’re super sweet, I love the tiny loving animation details like how he leans his head against her and her stroking his hair away from his eyes

- nooo don’t bully evan leave my t0tally r4dical sk8er boy alone :(

- I love the running joke of people fleeing in blind panic only to reveal that what they’re running from is kitty’s cheerful well meaning little face fskfaskh 

- scott and jean are already peak married after officially being together for one episode and it’s adorable, and they just stone cold threw logan under the bus, rip wolverine we hardly knew ya

fjasdlfasldfhslajdkfhsadkjlfhsdkjalfhsdakfh h jean establishing herself as the alphabitch of this relationship by throwing her man to the wolves right after dsjfhaskjfhaskjhfsakjdhfaskjhfaskdhfskjahfskdajhf get smarter or get volunteered scott 

- ...eyepatch lady is so hot ngl

oh evan went to the place hank used to go to calm down ;________; (honestly he’s kind of won a place in my heart just by being a pretty normal teenage boy haha)

- jesus fucking CHRIST can you imagine being storm having to look her sister in the eye as she tells her ‘I lost your only child, he’s *vague gesture* somewhere in the sewers we think’ this poor woman

- amanda the self admitted monster fucker you are so VALID (I love her and her family’s design so much tho!)

- it’s so cool that even in his human ‘disguise’ kurt’s fingers follow the shape of his actual hand beneath it rather than moving like a five fingered hand, it’s such a lovingly consistent little detail 

- magneto and mystique in a breathless race to see who can be the shittiest parent... tune in next week for yet another parental nadir (also some low-poly gambit appearances in this one, for those at home keeping score (me), he’s in the background looking like someone drew him with their eyes closed fakjldfhasd look how they massacred my boy)

- someone please teach the brotherhood boys about consent huh

- jean ‘soccer mom before her time’ grey and her SUV dfhakjlhds :’)

- im sobbing rogue baby girl i’m so sorryyyyyy, this voice actress is so good, my parental instincts suddenly kicked into overdrive hearing the crack in her voice :( (bb me was right tho rogue centric episodes ARE the best episodes. that tension between ‘do I identify witn this character or am I crushing on her?? both???’ now has the fun new addition of ‘oh god oh no you are a baby I want to shield you with my body from everything trying to hurt you’)

- mystique is like ‘so you see despite you telling me you never wanted to see me again I completely disrespected that and posed as a friend your age, manipulated you by offering you the mirage of direly needed emotional intimacy and belonging and added some sprinkles of homoerotic tension to it just to massively worsen your already existing grievous psychosexual trauma and identity issues... out of love’

god go jump in a black hole you fucking monster 

- there’s some very interesting and quite subtle subtext about the people she’s morphing into and what that says about her mental state/how it shows off some of her emotional baggage with the rest of the team. it’s like she’s switching between people/powers that fit the purpose as if she’s going through cycles of fight/flight (and then bursts of freeze where she’s herself, which is... so sad)

- this whole episode is hurting my heart but rogue at full power is undeniably epic  

 - ‘professor x get your goddamn act together and get this poor girl some fucking tHERAPY’ challenge

- SAFE PAPA LOGAN ;_____;

- EYYYYYY opening straight on My Lad, I cannot stop winning!!!!! 

fasdfhsad disintegrating the window with a smiley face... remy I do love you more than my heart can bear honestly, hello may we speak about the fact that his urge to be a little shit is so deep and strong it survives mind control (that little breathed out ‘hiah!’ as he vaults the fence too dsakfjsd)

hahaha and he does up the coat fhsalfdsaj 

- magneto dismissing other telepaths like ‘puh-lease, your Meaningful Looks have got nothing on my ex-husband’s’ 

- :’) rogue and kurt sibling timeees

- say what you want but this pyro guy’s got job satisfaction in being a creepy arsonist with a weird recurring horse theme (well at least twice but still weird)

- I love how beast is the kindest man to ever walk the earth but also straight up savage, this man drags people so hard their ancestors wince in their graves

- gambit taking the time to complete the guard’s game of solitaire -- this episode is giving me everything I want. u little disgrace mr lebeau

and THEN he takes the spider out in the most hilariously bonkers way my heart is so FULL

(I love that when magneto moves by he looks startled and has to quickly move his head out of the way to avoid getting kicked in the temple too that’s a fun detail)

I’m so INTO how this sequence shows off that his greatest strength isn’t even his powers (which are pretty straightforward, really, he makes go boom, longer time and bigger thing bigger boom) but that he’s clever and creative and always extremely ready to be the most harebrained-bananapants-extra-in-a-deceptively-laidback-sort-of-way person in the room (I actually have some genuinely Deep Thoughts about how his whole character does a really interesting thing with having the straightforwardly destructive nature of his powers yield to what his nature as a person is, and how using the playing cards play (heh) into it, maybe I’ll write it out some day. just the fact that he could use anything, but he deliberately chose something that adds style and playfulness and corny charm to it and that also limits the damage of the explosions compared to if he habitually used something with more mass... I find it fascinating how much he’s made a story around himself with it and how deeply it shows he does have a good heart, at the end of the day, in almost a metatextual way. he doesn’t want to destroy things or people, he’s at worst (and best lol) a thief.)

- I honestly have literally no memory of white nick fury (which seems so weird now isn’t it funny) in this series from when I was a kid, he clearly did not make an impression on me lol

- mr wolverine ‘assigned canadian at birth’ x-men 

- oh man I dig the androgynity of x-23′s outfit (even tho they had to compensate with the long hair, which... kind of doesn’t make sense in-universe but does on a design level because it’s a crucial thing that she’s a female clone of logan so yeah okay fine whatever have your arbitrary gender markers if you must haha)

ooooooh that’s actually really clever, they make her gender gradually more obvious as she unravels through the episode and her outfit changes -- first the mask coming off, and then her jacket opening to show her silhouette more clearly, that’s cool!  

- my god what really sets this show apart is how much it invests in little character and relationship moments, it’s just so fucking GOOD! it gives laura looking in on those moments such depth and weight because it’s new to her but established to us as an audience, this is how you make found family devastating people (storm growing bonsai trees is so charming too haha) 

- ooof this is honestly quite harrowing 

SHE’S SO SMALL COMPARED TO HIM I’M CRYING (at least that part of his genes translated over faslkfsjdh short king, I say this with all the love and support of a fellow short monarch)  

- tabitha seems to just be running around doing precisely whatever the fuck she wants and you know what I support her even if she is an asshole her father left her a bunch of trauma and no fucks left to give 

- still thrilled about professor x explaining the spider key fuckup to magneto after the fact like ‘magnus you dumb bitch this is why we split up’ 

- awww kitty has anime and movie posters on her wall and sleeps with a stuffed toy :’)

-          remy                           rogue

                              🤝

doing completely unnecessary parkour around the brotherhood living room seemingly just for the hell of it... I’m not saying soulmates but fucking soulmates 

- fhsadkjlfhsakjldfhsadjkfhsdajkfh just as gambit’s soul-level need to be a little shit survived his bout of mind control, rogue’s deep and urgent desire to kiss gambit full on the mouth survived hers I can’t breathe

she looks so pleased with herself too GOOD FOR YOU GIRL at least get something out of this other than more trauma 

also not only the fact that he’s smart enough to figure out what’s going on (though he’s only partially right about who’s behind it. I do so enjoy gambit/mystique deep and sincere antipathy as a constant across all universes tho lmao pure wlw/mlm hostility) but also that he keeps fending her off like he’s not trying to hurt her even though she’s in nigh on unstoppable and invulnerable terminator mode... awww 

- gambit having absolutely no patience for wolverine and sabertooth’s bullshit macho-off and consistently being this little biker trio’s one brain cell is adding years to my life with every passing moment

his voice is a little different in these scenes too, a bit softer and less like he’s trying to impress someone, it’s nice

- hank: well I barely recognize any of these (completely made up) ‘ancient egyptian hieroglyphs’ but from what I can make out -- *proceeds to infodump a perfect coherent narrative* fjdhfak  

listen this whole thing is such nonsense on so many levels, I’m just turning my brain off so I won’t have to think about it okay, the compulsion to put ancient aliens in egypt haunts us as a culture 

- I am CACKLING about gambit in the snow after having to listen to these two chucklefucks ooze testosterone at each other for hours

he started out taking it in good cheer and is now reduced to ‘dieu would both of you just jump off this fUCKING mountain please’

- ah. a little oops-a-daisy there, we seem to have unleashed the apocalypse. please stand by (they really don’t pull their punches with the season cliffhangers in this show haha)

- opening the season on gambit’s merrily grinning face is the easiest way to gain my favour. yes good this season may commence 

baby u r my

 ANGELLLLLLLL

(he’s so cute here tho haha I think it shows the design isn’t unsalvagable, just get him better hair and stubble more like logan has and you’ve basically got it) 

love his exasperated eyeroll when the dude gets spooked (by his eyes? or just the general weirdness?) too

he’s just trying to keep this crazy family of evil mutants together and unmurdered by one another until they’ve managed to avert the end of the world, bless him  

- oh NO rogue’s LIP wobbles my hhhhhheart ;____; such a good animation detail to put in

- like... I know kurt is just a sad scared teenager with a lot of shit going on and all the adults are too busy averting the end of the world to help him... but buddy maybe don’t ask your sister to wake her abuser (who forced her to kickstart the end of the world!!!!!) when she feels utterly unsafe even with her statue version around huh

- ...wanda is good and I want only good things for her. and for her dad to be disemboweled for what he did to her both the first time around and when he forced her to forget I mean what 

- magneto throwing an epic satelite-slinging tantrum b/c ‘no I am the biggest sexiest strongest mutant of the pack :(’... erik fucking get over yourself 

- yes boys absolutely go along with a plan suggested by a dude who looks at you like this 

nothing bad can come of this surely asdfkhsa

- lance’s quarter of a braincell always trying to go ‘hey wait, maybe... not do this???’ and it never helps lol

- in this episode: Logan Has A Bad Day 

...some very specific bondage positions he’s held in here, I am sure this episode awakened something in someone once upon a time lol 

- logan shielding x-23 with his body... im fine it’s okay I’m not crying don’t look at me

- afsdhlsdfjasdlk those sure are some ‘scottish’ accents flsadkjhkdsjahfsd

- scott relieved to finally be able to cede the position of ‘charles xavier’s least favourite son’ to someone else fjsaklfhsajd (poor scott it’s not your fault honey)

supremely cowardly to suggest there is an ex-wife involved rather than charles slutting his way around the british isles back in the day but okay

- kurt with a cold is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. it’s okay kid it’ll get better soon

- ...is there an implication here that professor x is naturally blond. because I am losing my entire little mind about it (i mean he at least has to carry the gene, as does this lady?)

ETA: upon doing some research into this I can indeed confirm that charles xavier does seem to be naturally blond, and after this knowledge I will never be the same 

- “listen, dracula” fskdafghasd oh scott you sweet baby angel I love you

- I know jean’s abilities are a bit ‘as strong or as weak as the plot needs right now’ at this point (so you can have the setup for what’s going to happen with them eventually and she’s basically invincible ;____;), and normally I’m cool with it but god I want her to just squash lucas like a little bug

- ewwwww please don’t ever say ‘daddy’ like that again

- ...what the fuck is even going on this episode’s a mess 

like okay the split personality thing could be something but the way it’s done... what just happened lol

- MY BOY EVAN IS BACK! with a real glowup too (...though kind of weird how he suddenly looks like a grown man)

- augh scott’s eyes are so pretty oh my god ;__________________________;

- that episode in the first season where evan makes the ‘this is my new family!!’ video is so sad now (also, again, his poor poor parents) 

- time for: life affirming road trip with gambit (involuntary) faskljdfhaskjd

stunt therapist remy lebeau 

- I mean the way he goes about it is batshit insane and it’s very much secondary to what he’s actually up to but this is the first time rogue’s sounded genuinely hopeful and confident and like herself in like a season <3 

- he is disconcertingly pleased about her nearly throwing him off the train, and may I just say I agree it’s so nice to see rogue with her old fire back 

- the first time I watched this it was of course dubbed into norwegian, so I had no idea either of these characters were southern lol (though to be fair I probably wouldn’t have had much context for what it meant exactly either, I was like ten at the time and not too interested in america) I seem to dimly remember the norwegian voice actor did a little more of a ‘french’-tinged accent for gambit all over tho haha  

- you know what respect where it’s due, pyro dude knows to live his life for the lols and one has to admire his sociopathic dedication to it

interesting that he, too, seems to have fucking hated magneto -- I wonder if the implication here is that he kept all the acolytes in line with blackmail or by keeping something/one hostage? (except sabertooth maybe he’d just have to say ‘you get to fuck shit up and fight wolverine’ and that’d be enough)

- fsdakfhsd he’s so focused on her he doesn’t notice that guy about to hit him fkafhsa 

- fuck everything else except whatever the hell these two’ve got going on

- it’s weirdly cathartic to have rogue have a conversation with someone who was not happily adopted as well, I don’t think kurt like. gets it because his parents loved him unconditionally and still do 

birds of a feather motherfucker  

- fun detail: when the x-men team are on the shore and logan is sniffing around scott is stepping in something and trying to wipe it off his boots in the background

- when he wakes up after passing out from the touch he’s smiling even though she’s standing over him looking like the rage of god outlined by the moon fsajfsa well the last time he passed out like that it was from a kiss, maybe he still has some hopes and dreams in that direction lol (also he recovers from the tumble down the hill first and is checking on her before accidentally brushing her cheek with his hand, which I thought was sweet) 

and it was in that moment he knew he fucked up *passes out*

- ‘I can explain’ can u remy. can u  

- did it ever even occur to you to just. ask her. to help you. I mean I know it didn’t but like rogue’s always one second away from throwing hands with some bully and is stupidly ride or die, if you’d given her the puppydog eyes she would have crumbled immediately (fair enough I guess this entire episode is telling us he’s not from a background where he has much experience with people just helping him without a price haha) 

- his eyes glowing when he’s angry or upset or using a lot of his power is undeniably cool as all hell. I’m just saying it would be Big Sexy if they sort of flickered with light in moments of genuine vulnerability okay  

- his coat... his coat is what makes the Silhouette tm and I could not be happier about it 

- another parent of the year contestant enters the running lol “hey remy have you ever considered that you’re more of a walking bomb factory than a person? that’s certainly how I think of you hahaha c’mon kid let’s go” 

- the running joke of jean luc getting dollar signs in his eyes seeing the other mutant powers and gambit being like ‘nO!!!!’ and pulling him along is amazing haha

- from the way he looks when he touches rogue accidentally and the way he talks to his dad I’m sort of getting the feeling this gambit might actually be a bit younger than he looks?

here too -- idk why but it’s making the ‘wait is he baby???’ alarms go off in my head haha. very early twenties at most. 

- and we’ve officially seen him with all the face cards in the heart suit folks! (yes this is the sort of thing my brain notices no I don’t know either)

- poor logan running his ass off this whole episode in a panic and then she’s like ‘nah he’s fine (in several meanings of the word ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ) please put him down’ hfaskfsda

- rogue without makeup!!! her eyes look so naked like this haha <3

- oooh here’s a really interesting thing that tickles my brain a bit in this specific part of the scene where gambit frees his dad -- the part where he’s leaning against the door frame waiting for jean luc, who’s about to suggest using the opportunity to ruin the rival gang from the inside rather than slipping away while they still can

from his expression here he knows what’s about to happen, what jean luc is about to say, and it’s clearly a ‘man who thought he’d lost all hope loses last additional bit of hope he didn’t even know he still had’ sort of situation. he KNOWS what jean luc is like, and it still hurts that he really, honestly can’t give him even this, can’t appreciate that remy’s already done all this shit for him when he extremely didn’t have to, without immediately (no really, it took him less than ten seconds to go there? jesus) demanding more.  

remy tells him “I’m just here for you” and jean luc does not understand it. remy seems to be sincere in this motivation -- rogue certainly thinks so, having experienced it second hand and found enough at least emotional merit in it to decide he was worth saving even after all his bullshit (lol a bit of a running theme maybe. I think it’s very telling that after she absorbed mystique she was like ‘what the FUCK you’re a fucking monster’, and after she absorbed gambit she went ‘you did the wrong thing for the right reasons’ after she got over the first wave of outrage) 

there’s also what he says as he stands there: “You don’t need me for that”, with the distinct implication that jean luc would only keep him around because he has a use for him and for no other reason -- and then jean luc shamelessly doubles down on that by specifying that it’s not even him he’s got a use for as such, just his powers. that’s some kicking puppies level of deliberately missing the point, it’s almost impressive in how cheerfully mean it is haha

this idea of using people is really important in this episode because remy’s doing basically exactly the same thing to rogue to begin with; it doesn’t really matter to his plan that it’s her that’s with him through this, just what her powers are. (I think it’s  p r e t t y  solidly implied that he does actually like her a lot outside of that too and maybe there is some comfort in having her around for this, but mostly he’s behind a smokescreen of lies through the whole thing sooo I doubt he’s even aware of it, honestly)     

but then it does matter that it’s her when she comes back for him, even after what he did. and unlike jean luc he understands what that means, that she did that for him, and that she didn’t have to. and instead of asking her for more, in return he gives her the thing it’s been established is what he considers the most valuable thing he has; his ‘last card’, the thing he’s credited with keeping him alive many a time, basically. it’s gone from using to mutuality, a tentative place of friendship, and at the end of the day he is a different man than his adoptive father, with a capacity for selflessness and love he lacks. which is of course some of the same stuff going on with rogue and mystique too, except rogue acted from a more fragile and unstable place and did something she regrets, or at least has a LOT of doubts about now, and she found some catharsis in helping someone make a different choice in a similar situation. man there’s some Stuff going on under the surface here haha

(by the way it’s a weirdly... meaningless yet intensely meaningful thing, the gifting of a symbol? of an idea? but he’s putting something very crucial of himself into her hands, is the subtext, and he expects her to understand, which she also does seem to do. at the beginning of the episode he’s proving that he’s seen something true about her -- “You’re such an unhappy girl”, knowing where she comes from, the way she’s mourning her lost confidence and autonomy with her abilities -- and here she’s proving she’s seen something true about him. :’) I wish this show had gone on long enough for this dynamic to progress, it’s really interesting and touching)   

- gambit dragging himself up onto dry land seeing someone approaching (to help?!): :D

gambit seeing that it’s logan and the look on his face: D: 

- rogue using her powers so confidently and fearlessly in this episode tho!!!! 

- *me crying* and then her FAMBILY comes to take her home and he says he’s looking out for her too and kurt still loves her even though they’re having a conflict thing between them and she’s finally able to use her powers without so much fear again and --

- ...did I just watch some baby lesbian love at first sight shit right now???  

- okay last two episodes let’s go

- HELL YEAH STORM (I love that she’s like ‘don’t give me a dumb order like that and I won’t have to disobey it’ too sdfjsaj) her voice has such command I’m usually very much not the ‘step on me’ type butttt

- y’know I feel like apocalypse’s main fault across all versions I’ve seen of him is that he’s like an immortal superpowered god king and he’s not even sexy. like at least make him hot if he’s going to be insufferable in every other way 

- also callout post for apocalypse: one time he made gambit into the Horseman of Death... and didn’t even make him sexy!!! you were handed remy lebeau, supreme bi disaster slut of the x men universe, and you couldn’t even make his brainwashed superpowered evil side hot?? a beautiful stubbled twunk with glowing red eyes and extremely charming :> face practically delivers himself into your hands and you do that to him???? I mean I’m sure apocalypse did some other bad stuff too but that was the worst one

(comics are so dumb y’all) 

- having to watch jean cry is emotional terrorism!! ;___; she has such older sister/mom energy, whenever she gets sad and helpless it hurts 

- oh, OH so PROFESSOR X you’ll make into a hunk and ~*strategically*~ rip his clothes to show off a nipple and a flawless pec in a way that makes me extremely uncomfortable because he’s like The Dad??? apocalypse you are rotten to the core this is unforgivable 

- so wait wanda never actually gets her real memories back. what the FuCk I hope that was a dropped storyline because they ended the show tragically prematurely rather than like. the plan

- why is spyke calling storm ‘storm’ show that’s his auntie o!! >:(

- as a society we need to acknowledge that apocalypse looks like a fucking clown

- ooooh yeah I have been thinking that this show’s greatest visual weakness so far has been not having a visual way to show telepathy/battles of the minds, but this is a pretty cool way to do it! better late than never

- I’m so happy rogue gets to end this herself, since she was forced into starting it against her will, it’s just nice and neat storytelling

- YEAH FUCKING TELL HER KURT AND ROGUE I AM SO PROUD OF YOU and she has the temerity to look pissed off oh my god

the only valid thing mystique has done in her entire life is be in love with destiny. literally everything else she gets up to is a travesty. like I know objectively she’s hot but my loathing for her stops me from even appreciating it. I do enjoy loathing her tho so please don’t change her haha

(a bit odd to have kurt’s attitude to her swing so much but I’m just going to assume he and rogue had a good long conversation after ‘cajun spice’ and that he understands what’s going on better now)

- this last part is such a cruel tease faskdfhsdaj ‘here are all the cool-ass things we had planned. sucks you never get to see it huh’ im devastated 

- magneto without his helmet and playing charmingly with children like charles is going ‘well at least I saved my marriage finally’ fsadkhfjsd (honestly tho I would be super interested in seeing how they’d redeem this magneto because he’s been a real bitch the whole time lol) 

there’s an interesting thing here where magneto looks down at wanda as the last thing he does on screen before this epilogue part (yeah I hope it fucking haunts you forever what you did to her erik you absolute piece of hot garbage) and the last thing charles does is look at jean b/c he knows what’s going to happen to her and it breaks his heart... Dramatic Parallells  

- just the hint of jean as the phoenix has me in full D:D:D: mode tho maybe I wouldn’t have survived it

- gambit in the last groupshot with his arm around rogue ;^) I mean I’m sure they’re headed for some turns and roundabouts along the way but what’s that thing she says as her wedding vow, that she’ll always find her way back? anyway that got me in my heart

- man I really wish this show had been given more seasons, we were barely even getting warmed up here :’(

#x men evolution #x men #gambit #rogue x gambit #aaah this is like therapy for me... just dumping all my emotions into a tumblr post and then let them go into the ether #I am now wondering if I'm desperate enough to go all the way back to the x-men animated series (which I've never seen before!) #like am I willing to go there for more Contente. time will tell I suppose #happy tag #...this is very long #MAN why can't I channel this dumbass energy into fiction writing I'd get so much DONE

[myriadimagines]

Roadside

Stranger Things One Shot

Pairing: Reader x Robin Buckley

Other Characters: — 

Warnings: alcohol, swearing

Summary: You and Robin are best friends. And best friends are supposed to tell each other everything, right?

Word Count: 1,711

A/N: my submission for @moonlit-imagines‘ writing challenge! also the summary is hella lame but oh well. i wrote a whole angsty ending for this but decided against it and decided to give a happy ending instead. enjoy :)

reblog/feedback/comments are very much appreciated!!!

“Let’s take a walk. Just you and me.” 

You look up at her, uncomfortably shifting your weight from one foot to another. You’re leaned up against the hood of your car, clasping your notebooks to your chest as you meet her gaze. She stares back at you, kicking her shoes up against the dirt, both of you holding your breath. The school is empty by now, everyone already gone, leaving you and Robin alone outside the building. The moment of seriousness feels odd, uncomfortable, tense. You gulp, unable to see even a hint of a teasing smile on Robin’s face, and you suck in a sharp breath.

“Okay,” you finally nod, and Robin chews on her bottom lip. She watches you put your books away, stuffing them into your backpack, and Robin resists the urge to crack a joke about how haphazardly you shove the papers away. It’s how you first met, after all, desks next to one another, her muttering a sarcastic comment under her breath. You snorted with laughter, and it took her by surprise — the fact that someone was paying enough attention to hear her — that she couldn’t help but burst out laughing, too. It wound the both of you in detention, chastised for disrupting the class, but it was worth it for Robin to find her best friend. 

You nervously readjust the straps of your backpack, hitching them higher up on your shoulders, dragging out the seconds to avoid the conversation you know both you and Robin have been dancing around. She tilts her head, and you reluctantly follow her as she begins walking, the both of you trailing by the edge of the road leading to school. It’s strangely quiet, as if the entire world is granting you a moment of privacy, wanting to listen to what you have to say. 

But you know the world is spinning, continuing on as it must. The world doesn’t care about you or Robin. It doesn’t care about two friends taking a walk under a clouded sky, mouths filled with words they want to say, but finding themselves swallowing them, instead.

The road is empty, not even a hum of a distant engine breaking the delicate silence that dances around you and Robin. You pull your denim jacket tighter around your body, feeling the autumn winds getting colder as the sun hides behind the clouds. The browned leaves crunch under you and Robin’s shoes as you continue to walk, going down the stretch of road that seems to have no end, and you awkwardly clear your throat to remark, “This is nice.” 

Robin doesn’t respond, and part of you knows not to expect her to. She’s never been one to beat around the bush, to bullshit with you. You can see her in deep thought, eyes glued to the ground as she presses her lips into a flat line. 

You know it’s coming. The very thought twists your stomach into knots. You’ve been avoiding her all day, ducking into classrooms and rushing down the hallways whenever you so much as caught a glimpse of her, but you can’t escape this any longer. Any minute now, and you don’t even realise you’ve been holding your breath until you’re practically suffocating, any minute now—

“Did you mean it?”

Your heart stops in your chest, and you can’t even bring yourself to look at Robin as she stops in her tracks. You shrink under her gaze, feeling your heart pounding in your chest as the events of  the previous night come flooding back to you. 

Robin didn’t even wanted to go to the stupid party, but you were too excited at being invited to care. You dragged her along, poking fun at the annoyance on her face, both of you drinking together and wrinkling your nose at the taste, struggling to choke it down instead of spitting it out. That was enough for her, tossing the cup to the side and refusing to let any more touch her lips, but you downed cup after cup, too fast for her to stop you.

She guided you to the bathroom when you had one too many, stumbling through the crowd, glaring at your leering classmates who watched with smirks on their faces. Your arms were around her, clinging to her, and you let out a drunken laugh as she finally managed to get the two of you to the bathroom, locking the door behind her for good measure. You collapsed onto the tiled floor, the both of you sitting opposite one another as she leaned up against the sink and you leaned up against the wall, knees bumping into each other as she shook her head at you. 

“If you need to throw up,” Robin warned you. “Make sure you do it in the toilet. Do not throw up on me.”

You snorted, leaning forward as you practically crawled over to her side. You rested your head on her shoulder, wrapping your arms around her as you murmured, “God, I feel like I can’t even stand.”

You waited for Robin to say something, to tease you, to chastise you, but to your surprise, she softly responded, “It’s fine. We’ll stay here as long as you need.” 

You looked up at her, trying to ignore how close your face was to hers, how your noses were practically touching. You swore, you could create constellations from the freckles on her face, and your heart skipped a beat as she raised an inquisitive brow at you. All these thoughts were thoughts you’ve desperately tried to ignore, but your drunken brain has no inhibitions, and before you can stop yourself, you suddenly leaned forward, pressing a desperate kiss to her lips.

Robin didn’t stop you at first, and somehow, despite how disgusting the alcohol tasted earlier, on your lips she finds herself tolerating it. But her eyes widened as she realised what was happening, and she quickly pulled away, hands on your shoulders to hold you at a distance. She stared at you, her mouth opening and closing as she struggled to come up with something to say, and you looked away, wriggling yourself out of her grasp. 

“Shit, I—” you stammered, shaking your head as you bury your face in your hands. “I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry. I’m so drunk.”

Robin could only stare at you, unsure of what else to do or say. The two of you told each other everything, but this was something she knew she could never speak of. Her feelings for you were something she repressed so hard, some days she could even forget about it, but now all she could think about was the curve of your lips and how you tasted. 

But this isn’t what she wanted. She didn’t want to be a drunken kiss you’d forget about by the morning. Hell, she still couldn’t even tell if you liked girls or not, if this was a drunken act you’d later try to laugh about or something more.

The two of you remained silent, and you refused to look up at her, tears stinging your eyes as you worried that you’ve ruined it all. Finally, through your hands, you mumbled, “I need to be alone, Robin.”

She hesitated, not wanting to leave you. “I…”

“Please.” you croaked out, and Robin could hear the sadness in your voice. The kiss aside, she knew she shouldn’t leave you in your drunken state, but she slowly got to her feet, making her way to the door as she waited for you to stop her, to tell her to stay. But you didn’t, you stayed quiet, and Robin let out a sigh as she reluctantly stepped out of the room.

She didn’t know how you managed to get home after that night. She waited in her car for you, almost waited all night, watching each and every person that left the house, but there was no sign of you. At school the next day, she almost didn’t expect you to show up, but she saw you at the end of the hallway, expression solemn and shoulders hunched as you rushed from class to class. Robin didn’t even know if she wanted to confront you for the truth, worrying that she wouldn’t like it, but she knew she had to.

So here the two of you are, standing at the edge of the road, fearful to look at each other. You hate this tension, when the two of you are so used to being at ease with one another, never uncomfortable even in silence. But this silence feels suffocating and heavy, and you absolutely hate it. 

“Just tell me,” Robin pleads, and you gulp. “I just need to know.”

You try to weigh up the situation in your mind, thinking of the pros and cons of lying or telling the truth, but you know emotions are rarely so logical. You look up at her, meeting her imploring gaze, and you quietly respond, “I meant it.”

Robin’s heart stops, and she stares at you, unsure if she heard you correctly. “What?”

“I meant it.” you repeat, raising your voice enough for her to hear. Your hands are shaking, unsure of how to interpret the expression on Robin’s face, and you begin to say, “Robin—”

Robin suddenly leans forward, grabbing your face in her hands, pulling you towards her as she kisses you. This time, you taste like your fruity chapstick, the one that she’s always borrowing from you, imagining that your lips are on hers each time she puts it on. This kiss isn’t desperate, but softer, sweeter, and the both of you are left breathless when you finally pull away. You blink at her in surprise as she stares back at you with wide eyes, her hands still on your face, and you ask, “Did you mean that?”

“Yes,” Robin responds without missing a beat, and you laugh, wrapping your arms around her waist as you pull her in to kiss her again. The world feels right again, as if everything off balance is once again restored, and all that matters is you and Robin. Robin, your best friend that you’re kissing by the roadside, with huge smiles on both your faces.

tag list: @inspiredbynewt​ / @locke-writes​​ / @fangirlsarah16​ / @cnco-babes​ / @doot-doot-danvers​ / @batfam16​ /  @marvelismylifffe​ / @tonystarkshomeoflostkiddos​ / @redbullchick​ / @azeret-mirror​ / @randomfandomimagine​ / @thedarkqueenofavalon​ / @captainshazamerica​ / @thereagles​

#reader x robin buckley #robin buckley x reader #robin buckley imagine #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things one shot #robin buckley #robin buckley one shot #imagine #imagines #reader insert #one shot #oneshot

[fly-me-to-neptune]

A new home (1: Arrival of the birds)

―Just throw me. I can break it.

Three seconds later, a loud crash shatters the monotony of the murmuring noise of the city. The apartment is now filled with broken glass and the smell of burnt wood. Aquamarine prepares to enter through the smoking hole in the window.

―Be careful, the shards are very sharp ―advises her partner from inside the building.

She raises her eyebrows. But she shouldn’t be surprised, even less so flattered. After all, the gem with whom she's been fusing, researching human culture, and plotting revenge for the past few months is a ruby, therefore, protective behaviour is to be expected.

―Evidently ―she replies, flying delicately inside.

It’s very spacious, like all the other human residences she’s seen. It’s always quite perplexing to her. “Why is nothing adjusted to their size? Do they dislike having the ceiling close to their heads? Do they usually stretch their arms when walking through a hallway?” she usually wonders. The beryl still can’t fathom the thought of such a big area being a strictly private space. Back in homeworld, only high class gems such as herself would get anything more than a hole in the wall to rest in.

Ruby gives her one last glance before turning away from the window. The blue gem does feel grateful for her companion’s attentiveness, so she silently approaches her and begins to remove the shards that have been tangled in her hair. Not noticing this gesture, her comrade takes her first, cautious steps in what is to become their new home... 

No.

Their new hideout. "Homeworld will always be our only true home", the blue gem reminds herself.

Hours earlier, they had come to the conclusion that finding a place to stay, a shelter to train and get stronger as Bluebird and to learn more about earthly customs would be the next step in their plan to get revenge. They had flown here and there, looking for the best place to settle, but they had been incapable of agreeing on any... Until they stumbled upon one of the buildings known as cinemas, of which Mydad had talked wonders about when Bluebird watched movies with him.

―I want to see more of those movies― Ruby had said―. Let’s live here. 

―It is true that they are very didactic. One of the most useful things that can be found on this planet, I’d say― Aquamarine replied, not wanting to admit how entertaining she found them as well, even though Ruby was aware of it and even shared her liking for those strange recordings―. However, this is clearly a public space. It’s best if we get one of the residence destined areas around it.

And so they had done. 

Aquamarine lets a eager smirk form in her face. Once the right place’s chosen and accessed, any gem will instinctively know it’s time to conquer it, and they’re more than ready to kick out any pesky earthlings that dares to oppose them.

She removes the last fragment of glass from Ruby's hair. The faint sound it makes when it falls to the ground causes the red gem to jump a little and give her a questioning look.

―No need to be so tense ―murmurs the beryl, drawing away and crossing her arms instinctively―. This will be easy. A few organics can't compare to us.

―What’s taking them so long, anyway? ―Ruby summons her chisel and takes a few more steps―. We haven't exactly been stealthy. They should be here by now.

―We might have scored an empty residence compartment.

Ruby’s next reply is barely audible:

―That, or we’re about to be ambushed.

They inspect their surroundings once more, not needing to say another word. 

That’s when they notice it. Something distinct from the chaotic noise of cars and voices in the streets can be heard coming from beyond the hallway. Different sounds following the same rhythmic pattern, concurring notes of varying pitches and instruments harmonizing into what is perceived as a single melody. It’s music. Bizarre, terrestrial music, but music nonetheless.

“I never thought about it before. Music is just like fusion, isn’t it?” muses the blue gem, before immediately having to shake off the swarming memories of the time spent with Ruby as Bluebird Azurite.

They advance through rooms of floral wall paper and light wooden floor, filled with all sorts of unfamiliar items, until they reach what, structurally speaking, appears to be the main area. A room much wider and nicely illuminated. It’s where the music is coming from.

And there’s a human, right there, humming along. 

She’s sitting in a rocking chair that creaks every so often, undisturbed by the smoke dancing in the cold air current that now connects the invasors’ entrance hole with one of the windows in the room, open by a narrow gap. She’s absorbed on a enigmatic task involving colored fibres. 

What’s with her lack of reaction? The music isn’t loud enough to have concealed the crash, not even close! The gems share a puzzled look. The smaller one feels a sudden urge to laugh, but she stops herself in time and just makes a quick grimace to try to express her exasperation at the ―oh, so erratic!― behaviour of Earth’s organics. Ruby smiles widely in response, appearing to be repressing a chuckle herself. 

Oh.

Aqua still hasn’t gotten used to seeing her smile. It somehow makes it harder for her to breathe, even if only for a couple of seconds. Perhaps it’s because she would never have expected to see such a gesture coming from who, at first, seemed like a tough, stoic, emotionally closed off ruby soldier; even less so, directed at her. Yet, it has been happening quite often.

She looks away. She wants to breathe like normal again, not think about her companion’s entrancing, dark scarlet eye.

Suddenly feeling impatient, she flies across the room to reveal herself to the human. “Let’s get this over with” she thinks, forcing herself to focus, “I’ll just distract her so Ruby can get the upper hand”. With an acceptable amount of grace, she lands on a small table near the window and, as soon as she turns to directly face the organic, she confirms with a sly glance that the red gem has understood her intentions and is already sneaking towards the creature. The beryl smiles.

―Greetings, human.

No reaction. Again. 

Despite its seeming convenience, it’s starting to get annoying for the aristocrat. Be it a positive or negative one, she enjoys getting a reaction out of others, and she’s definitely not used to just being ignored like a simple pebble. Not to mention that the way someone reacts always gives her a lot of valuable information about what could be their usual behaviour, their current state of mind and about how she can assure a position of psychological superiority. 

What can she conclude out of this lack of response? She’s not sure. And she doesn’t like not being certain about where she stands in. She detests it.

But she’s not alone against the strange creature. Ruby jumps to the organic’s seat, grabbing one of the wooden bars of its structure to secure a high position and, efficiently as always, points her chisel to her neck. The chair rocks and creaks violently, as if complaining about the roughness of the gem soldier.

Confident in that she isn’t gonna be tuned out this time, the blue gem clears her throat and announces:

―I think you’d be interested in knowing that, from now on, we are taking possession of your cute little residence hole.

―It’s a pretty big one though ―The red gem murmurs, impressed by Aquamarine’s assertion. Tsk, tsk. That’s not the point, Ruby! The point is to make the unresponsive human feel insignificant and intimidated... which seems to still not be working, in any case.

A few awkward seconds pass by.

―I was under the impression human beings were territorial.

―Yeah. This is weird. Besides, she’s not screaming―. Ruby squints as she looks the organic up and down.― And they always scream.

The two gems wait a couple minutes, in which only the music is heard. But the strange creature is really not reacting to them, she just keeps trying to imitate the melody with her own feeble voice as her hands tangle the colored fibers.

Aquamarine finally loses interest. She decides to hover around and examine the objects that catch her eye.

It doesn't take her long to get to the record player.

―Finally. I was getting sick of that noise ―her fusion partner celebrates when Aqua removes the disc to inspect its material.

―What a waste of resources. Look! This barely contains a few minutes of melody,― she explains, running a finger over the markings of the record’s surface―. Why not just use a living human for auditive diversions? They would surely have room for more variety.

Ruby shrugs, not too interested. She continues to grip her chisel, staring menacingly at the organic, who still hasn’t stopped humming despite the interruption of the record’s music.

―Well, y’know. Humans don’t do that. Organics don’t devote themselves to a purpose. ―The frown on Ruby’s face deepens as a gust of wind shakes the curtains and brings in the distant laughter of children―. They just wander around aimlessly. 

―Well, if they usually sing this poorly, I suppose that’s for the best ―she giggles―. I’m not made for singing, but I bet I could do it a thousand times better.

At last, she’s caught Ruby’s full attention. She’s looking at her with curiosity shining in her eye. Not that that’s a good thing. She should continue keeping watch of the organic while Aquamarine explores around. There’s no reason for Aqua to sing the earthly melody that’s got stuck on the back of her mind, no reason to try to impress an already agreeable comrade. Right?

And so, the blue gem averts her gaze yet again and both of them fall back into their roles.

#fanfic #fic #aquaball #steven universe #steven universe future #suf #su #aquamarine #eyeball #eyeball su #aquamarine su #a new home #fanfiction #myart #mywriting #eyemarine #eyequamarine #eyeaqua #eyeball ruby #su eyeball #su aquamarine #hey I did my best I hope y'all like it!! This is in Ao3 too and there's gonna be more chapters and stuff

[imnotasuperhero]

I’ll be waiting (for when you love me again)

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Type: angsty fluff?

Summary: Natasha can’t accept the fact you decided to break up with her. Even if she understood your reasons. She knew there was much more in store for the both of you. Together.

Wordcount: 1178

A/N: @nowthisisliving27 requested for a happier continuation of this angsty fic, but like.. asking for help, @jumbojamba47 suggested I’ll be waiting by Adele and well.. this is the result. Lol. Let me know if you guys want a part 3! (:

A/N n2: Not sure this is the right ending I wanted, but after hiting a wall for so long, I decided to embrace it and share it before I deleted the whole thing. Lmao.

The last time Natasha saw you, it was one of the most painful moments she'd endured so far. The fact she had to let you go away so you could find yourself again, was paining her in indescribable ways. If she'd just paid more attention. If she'd just kept you close, showing you that she cared.

How could she be in peace, knowing she let you slip away? How could she be nice with herself, knowing that she contributed to your insecurities? Even if you reassured her over and over that it was your battle and you couldn't drag her down with you. But little did you know Natasha would go to the confines of Hell just to be with you. 

She could still feel the way you felt against her. The softness of your skin under her touch. The soft sighs you'd let out whenever she ran her nails against your upper arms in those lazy days when you got to be in your bed all day. Fully clothed or naked, but together.

It's been a month since you went on a vacation, ready to rediscover yourself and eager to use the pilled up permits to skip work.

A part of her was eager to see you, to witness your happiness as you told her all the things you did and all the places you've got to visit. She wanted nothing else than to see the shine in your eyes when you talked about what you enjoyed the most, the way you'd wrinkle your nose or frown when you talked about your less favorite parts. She wanted to be the one you ranted to. But the realistic part of her made her understand that she couldn't. She didn't have the right. At least, not until you allowed her to. And there was nothing she could do other than wait. As long as it took you.

Days turned into months. The only information she had about your wellbeing was because she decided to give in and use her spy skills on you. And she'd be lying if she didn't felt like a perv, following you around like a stalker. But if you weren't giving her updates, she must get them herself.

That's how the night found her on the rooftop of the building in front of yours. The binoculars on her hands showing you on your couch, probably watching the latest episode of your favorite TV show. Her heart squeezed when she spotted her old t-shirt covering your body, increasing the hope she was feeling inside. What would she give to have you in her arms again, cuddling and just basking in each other's warmth. She knew if -when- you were to have her again, she had to be better. She had to own the pleasure of calling you hers.

After what seemed hours later, she finally plopped down under the covers. But no matter how hard she tried, no matter how much she tossed and rolled in bed, sleep wouldn't visit. Her mind still running wild with ideas to make it happen. God, she was so tempted to ask Tony to fund her so she could get one of those dumb planes to get the whole New York City to know she loved you.

Making her peace with the fact that it was too late now, she quickly changed into workout clothes and headed for the gym. Hopefully, she could nap after.

"You still here?" 

Bucky's voice took Natasha out of her reverie, making her stop mid-jab against the target. Looking at the gym's doors, she frowned at the super soldier walking over to her.

"I just came here," Natasha leaned her head in confusion.

"Nat, it's 10 am. JARVIS told me you've been here since dawn," he chuckled.

Looking around, she could see that in fact, the lights were off, and the sun was shining through the floor-to-ceiling windows illuminating the whole room.

"Fuck," she's been here for 5 hours.

"What's wrong?" Bucky leaned against the press, blue eyes meeting green. And Natasha knew she couldn't lie to him. 

"I've been dating this person," Natasha paused licking her lips. Why was her mouth so dry so suddenly? "I- She saw us. When we were undercover." She couldn't help the questioning glaze anymore, so she moved her eyes to the blue sky outside. 

"We've been together for 7 months. We- I really love her, Bucks," she looked up when she felt a strong hand on her shoulder.

"Does she knows that?" 

"She does. I- Is not because we don't love each other," she sipped on her water. "I hid her," she confessed. "I hid her and I wasn't there for her and-"

"And you need to make your peace with it." Natasha could hear the laugh in his voice and she wanted to spar with him just to kick it off. "I won't pry and demand you to tell me everything. But I do ask of you to work it out. If you really love her, then don't let her go away."

Natasha mulled his words over and over, trying to come up with a plan. She needed to step her game up. You both were too good to end this way.

It wasn't until she saw you in the café -pure coincidence this time- that she finally made up her mind. She'll win you over and she'll shout at the top of her lungs that you were hers.

"Nat, hi." You smiled something painful and Natasha couldn't help the frown taking over her.

"Y/N, is nice to see you," she smiled honestly, hoping you could see it. "I-"

"You-"

You both cut each other mid-talk, laughing sheepishly.

"I'm sorry. You go first." Always the gentlewoman, Nat nodded for you to continue.

"Umm... I was wondering if you... maybe... Ugh, I'm such a mess," you laughed and Natasha couldn't help her jumping heart threatening to escape her chest.

"You might be a mess, but I wouldn't have it any other way." She high-fived herself mentally at the blushing of your cheeks. 'Smooth, dude' she smirked to herself.

"You're mean. I'm trying to be serious here," you pouted and Natasha was dying to kiss it away. But she knew better. 

"I'm sorry. I'll shut up now," she mimicked zipping her lips and your laugh filled her ears, making her wish she could hear your laugh for the rest of her life.

"Anywaaays," you rolled your eyes at her antics. "I was wondering if you wanted to sit with me? If you're free, I mean."

"I am free and I'd love to share this afternoon with you," she winked at you, repressing a laugh as you grumbled under your breath. "Go pick a table and I'll be there soon," she gestured to the back of the café as she walked towards the barista. 

She couldn't help the smile breaking her face at the outcome of this day. Maybe this wasn't the end, after all. And she was certain she'll make things different. This time, she'll be better for you.

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

Taglist: @marvelfansince08love @wannabe-fic-reader @natasha-danvers @rooskaya-yelena @sananabdliw @aaron-despair @username23345 @nate-the-dreamer @higherfurther-romanova

#natasha romanoff x reader #it's finally done #my writing

[fritae]

The Missing Piece : Chapter 1

Gang leader! AU / Corporate! AU

Characters: Dabi x F/OC

Status: Ongoing

Summary:

Rina Aoki is the secretary of one of the world's biggest broadcasting stations - only she hates her job and wakes up everyday asking herself if this is all there is to life. Then, she meets Dabi: a man of overpowering confidence and many, many secrets. But beneath all that confidence is a wounded soul and years' worth of repressed anger. The two struggle with fear, ambition, vulnerability - but eventually learn that life may just be better when you don't have to struggle alone.

A/N:

There are no quirks in this story. I tried to give it a real world spin. But it will explore dynamics between good and evil, right and wrong, and feelings of family, friendship, love and belonging. I'm super excited about the story and I hope you enjoy it!Chapter 1: the meeting

Chapter One: The Meeting

It was raining.

I hide my tote under my coat out of fear for my laptop. If it gets wet, I'm done for. My boss isn't exactly the most considerate person out there. If anything were to happen to the highly coveted files on it, I might as well hand in my resignation.

I sigh with relief once the bus arrives, and quickly hurry inside.

As I find a seat, I lean my head against the window, not caring for germs or the subtle tremble of the glass. It feels cool against my skin, and not as uncomfortable as I thought it would be. But more importantly, it is distracting. It'll give me something else to focus on during the ride.

At least I hoped so.

But within minutes, it becomes clear that my mind has no intention of being distracted. The thoughts creep in and suddenly the soft hum of the engine is no match against the throbbing in my head.

Of course not.

Distractions simply don't last long these days.

So I surrender to the thoughts as I stare at the passing streets, feeling increasingly empty by the minute.

I hate my job. I hate everything about it. Working as a secretary for a broadcasting company is a dream for many. The salary isn't bad. I have access to exclusive events and frequently coordinate with the biggest names in the industry. I know the ins and outs of selling an idea and making it resonate with millions.

But I quickly learned all the people in this industry are insufferable. The whole premise rests upon the art of manipulation, taking something that may very well be worthless and conning people into thinking it will fill a hole they didn't even know they had. The people are superficial, be it actors or other famous personalities. Everyone is so obsessed with images. How to best put on a show to gain the love and admiration of millions.

But what use is their love if it's built upon the distortion of reality?

I shake my head before burying it in my palms.

No matter, I tell myself.

As frustrating and unfulfilling as the work may be, it pays the bills and keeps me busy.

A little too busy...

I get up once my stop arrives. I say a quick thank you to the bus driver before hurrying out.

The cold makes me shiver and I pull my skirt to cover more of my thighs before plastering a fake smile onto my face.

The fake smile is part of the uniform here.

My heels click together with attitude as I make my way through the building. The noise hits my ears immediately. Loud chattering, blaring music and upbeat announcements stand in sharp contrast to the calm of the rainy world outside. I blow kisses as my colleagues call out my name from the studio floor.

My friend and roommate Aliyah takes off her headset to wave me over. She left home extra early today owing to her busy schedule as floor manager. The glaring lights tell me they're about to start shooting but as much as I want to help her with final preparations, I have more important things to worry about right now.

"Can't talk now, Al!" I say apologetically. With one point to my tote bag, she understands. "Good luck!" she shouts back, before returning her attention to the production crew.

I sigh.

I will definitely need all the luck I can get.

I take the elevator up to the highest floor of the company. While our studios are bright, loud and fun. The offices are formal, professional and characteristic of a multibillion dollar company. I knock twice before heading into the largest office at the end of the hall, where my boss is waiting for me. The letters NNTV adorn the walls in an elegant gold print behind him.

A pair of glasses sits on the bridge of Mr. Lane's nose as he reads over today's reports.

"You're late, Ms. Aoki." He says without looking up.

"Apologies, sir. It was unexpected."

"Do I not say to account for the unexpected in your planning, Ms. Aoki?"

"It won't happen again, sir."

He offers me a *tsk* in response.

"Our ratings have gone down this month. Much more than we anticipated." Mr. Lane grumbles.

"CBS' new reality show has attracted a lot of viewers, sir. It's competing with our usual broadcasts at-."

"Then why have you not found a program to substitute whatever we usually air at that time?"

I bite back a sigh. "The current schedule is the most optimal, sir. If we switch around any programs we risk affecting the viewership of The Midnight Show and Killer."

"Well then figure something out!" He barks. "That's what your job is, isn't it?"

"We have a team for a reason, sir. Perhaps we can consult them today? I can schedule an emergency meeting to address this."

I say this knowing the rest of the team won't alter the schedule. The nature of the industry is ratings fluctuate all the time. To change our scheduling at every hint of a drop will only harm our future ratings.

He waves me away. "Schedule it for two hours from now. Cancel anything else I have at that time."

"Yes sir." I confirm, before turning around.

My nostrils seethe as I suddenly hear him mutter *Useless* under his breath.

The rest of the day is spent taking more orders and backtracking on Mr. Lane's previous decisions. Just as I'd expected, the board decided it would be better to simply wait out the next two weeks until the current programs are finished before rearranging any of the schedules. I make a mental note to consider what might be a suitable alternative in the meantime.

The hours drag on. I should have been done at 5, but 7 o clock hits and I'm still taking phone call after phone call. It isn't until a quarter to 9 that I can finally go home.

I sigh as I pass the much quieter studio floor on the way out. I don't find Aliyah among the crew, but I'm sure she's taking care of her own things at the moment. The Midnight Show is scheduled for well, midnight, so she's probably taking a final break before her last project of the night.

Once I am outside, I let out a deep breath I didn't know I was holding in. Instead of taking the bus straight home, I find myself walking toward Café Du Monde. It sits a few blocks away from the NNTV building.

The smell of roasted coffee beans and fresh pastries greets me as I enter. The soft jazz is welcomed by my ears after a day of nonstop chatter and corporate debate.

As I stand in line, I remind myself to pick up coffees before I leave for the crew working late tonight. Hopefully Aliyah will be back by then.

---

"Shit," I hear the man ahead of me in line mutter. "I think I forgot my wallet back in the office."

He checks his pockets again, but finding them empty he looks up at the cashier. "Sorry man, I'll be back another day."

But before he could walk away, I step up to the register. "It's okay, I got it."

He glances at me. "Nah, don't-"

"It's nothing. Can you add another coffee to the order please?"

The cashier punches a few numbers into the register and I hand him a 20.

---

The man tips his hand in thanks. I nod back at him and walk up to the roof.

With a coffee in one hand and a cigarette in the other, I sigh. Now to get the day out of my system...

"How can I repay you," A smooth voice says behind me.

I look over my shoulder to see the man walk up to the ledge with me. He has electrifying blue eyes, a head of thick dark hair, and the kind of walk that signifies authority.

"You good at conversation?" I ask.

He thinks for a moment. "How about I let you be the judge of that?"

I pass the man a cigarette. "Then distract me."

"You don't look like the type to smoke." He comments before accepting it.

"Looks can be deceiving." I shrug.

"It feel good or something?"

"Or something." I confirm with a smile. "Just reminds me to breathe in," and with a soft easing in my chest, "and breathe out."

He leans back against the railing. "Hm. You know breathing quality isn't exactly what people would associate with cigarettes."

I roll my eyes. "You know what I mean."

The man chuckles. "Yeah. Although I think rearranging a few things in your life would help more than smoking. Don't want to grow reliant on an outside source for relief now."

"Well, well. Wasn't aware I was speaking to a mental health guru."

He seems amused by that. "That's not what the people working for me would say but it's nice to know their sentiments aren't universal."

"Ah. So you're a shitty boss."

"I'm just a boss." He corrects. "What people think of me has nothing to do with me."

"Must be nice to believe that." I sigh, taking another puff of my roll.

"No reason not to, eh? Letting others' opinions matter to you means you lose power over yourself. There's nothing you could want from them that you can't do for yourself."

"Money?" I suggest.

"That's easy. But it depends on how willing you are to work for it."

"Work quite a lot." I scowl. "...starting to wonder if it's worth the headache, to be honest."

The man leans closer to me, his breath warm against my ear. I try not to focus on the scent of his cologne, musky with notes of amber and cedar wood. "Then what you want isn't really money. Sounds like you want more."

"More?"

"Yeah. Money by itself isn't satisfying," He says matter of factly. He leans away to take a sip of his coffee. "Only when it's coupled with a goal."

"Hm."

"Money doesn't take you anywhere; it's just a means to an end." He continues. There's an air of mystery behind those turquoise eyes of his. "Your goal is what guides you. Where do you want to go?"

Someone in this neighborhood that doesn't live and die for money? I almost want to laugh. What goal guides him then? What does he stay alive for?

But I keep those questions to myself. I shouldn't get too close to a man I'll never see again.

"I want to be my own boss." I say with a soft smile. Be my own boss. Wouldn't that be nice? No more waking up with Mr. Lane's voice already echoing in my head. No more plastering fake smiles and maintaining that "professional" semblance for hours on end. "I'm tired of taking orders from other people."

I almost miss the sudden gleam in his eye.

"Now that's more like it."

---

I leave the cafe with a box of donuts in one hand and a coffee tote in the other.

I said goodbye to the stranger, happy to have shared these thoughts with someone. It strikes me that I didn't even ask his name.

I shrug. Perhaps that's the magic of moments like these. The universe puts us in places we don't expect to be in. Brings two strangers together and they realize maybe this meeting was just what they needed today. The man got his coffee and I...I was able to let my thoughts run freely.

At least for a while.

"And now we abandon the fantasies and return to reality," I mutter with a sigh. I hook my pinkie with the large glass double doors of NNTV and pull the handle toward me.

There's a small audience present now, the guests for the Midnight Show. I walk around them and smile when I find Aliyah, arms crossed and eyes trained on the set, trying to catch any faults before we air.

"Al!" I call out in a whisper. She immediately looks my way, face lighting up at the sight of the coffee.

"Oh, you're a lifesaver!" She says excitedly as she takes the sweets from my hand. "Hey Joe, set this up for the crew, will ya?"

An intern shuffles forward and takes the bags anxiously to prepare a little station for the team.

"How'd you know I needed the coffee?" She smiles at me.

"Because I needed the coffee," I say with a laugh. "And you've been awake far longer than I have."

Aliyah laughs and rubs her eyes. "I forget how much time I spend here sometimes. No matter - you staying for the show tonight?"

I smile apologetically. "You know I'd love to, but I can barely keep my eyes open. I've got a long day tomorrow, I'm gonna need all the sleep I can get."

I say goodbye to the rest of the crew, smiling sheepishly as they spout *thank you*s for the late night coffee and donuts, and make my way home.

Later that night, as I lay in bed with my eyes trained on the ceiling, I feel a sudden urge to whisper these words out loud.

Please let my life be worth more than the value I add to a company.

#dabi #dabi x oc #dabi x female reader #todoroki touya #dabi fic #dabi fanfic #dabi angst #dabi fluff

[sourbat]

Here’s a little ficlet I wrote today. Please give it a little glance, and let me know what you think :)

Summary: Nathan listens in on an intimate conversation and becomes increasingly jealous over it. 

Pair: Magnus/Toki 

Toki’s never been one to leave his door closed for long. Nathan is used to passing by the small room, sometimes at the earliest hours of the morning, and finds the door agape, lighting aglow and showing off the interworking of Toki’s short, erratic attention span. He’s seen Toki hunched at his desk, indulged in the time-consuming process of building model planes, and he’s seen Toki rolling all over the floor, tossing his controller and screaming at the television screen. There is Toki coloring, tossing his crayons against the wall and complaining about the mess he made with his stuffed animals. Front row seats to Toki rocking. Toki dissecting his actions figures. Toki purposefully breaking his things. There are nights where Toki frantically rearranges his room, and times where Nathan approaches the stretched light and hears the young man muttering, but often pitifully whining, in another language. There are cold, silent nights where the door is closed, and Nathan can still pick up the sounds of whimpers and stifled cries. There are instances where Nathan knocks, fewer where he enters and talks to the guy. Sometimes Nathan cleans. Picks up robots with missing legs, or ones that contain screws where they shouldn’t be. Most of the time, Nathan continues onward, leaving Toki to his devices.

It’s nearing one in the morning when Nathan’s throat tires, and concludes another successful night recording lines with Pickles. After they split, Nathan enters the familiar hallway that eventually leads to his room, and on his way, finds the long, dim light emitting from Toki’s bedroom. Like before, he thinks little of the dimly lit room, but notices a gentle sound emitting from it as he approaches.

Kid is sleep at the desk, he thinks when he catches something muffled, something that sounds like slow breathing. The thought to turn off the lamplight and let Toki sleep uninterrupted arises, and Nathan considers it as he reaches the room, figuring if the floor isn’t covered with too much crap, he’ll give Toki a break this time. His pace slows as he heads for the door, footsteps adjusting and soles rolling to muffle his sounds, and when he gets close, Nathan picks up on a conversation.

“…milks and apples?”

Toki’s talking. He’s whispering to someone. A conversation centered on food. 

Nathan readies his hand, already thinking to tell Toki it’s getting late, too late for a midnight snack, but a raspy chuckle stops him.

“Hold up, dude. We got one paragraph left.”   

It’s Magnus’ voice.

Nathan’s chest tightens, muscles instinctively bracing for an incoming attack that won’t happen. Magnus isn’t here, not really, but his mere presence taking the form of some voice over the phone is enough to make Nathan’s bottom jaw ache from the subconscious grind.

Nathan withdraws from the door, furthers himself away until he can barely register the conversation taking place. No, not a conversation. He picks up on Magnus’ voice, the solidity and clarity as he carefully pronounces each word. It’s a recital. It’s him narrating. It’s Magnus telling Toki the story of a bunch of dumb animals trying to run a farm, and in all likelihood, it’s also Magnus trying to induct Toki in his bullshit philosophy.

It’s a few sentences of Magnus gently concluding a chapter to a fatigued Toki, and by the time Nathan remembers the finer details, the windmill and Magnus ranting about how their country will end up in the same sad state as the farm, it’s over. There’s silence, the sounds of Toki shifting in his bed, and Nathan draws closer.

“Alright, we’re done with chapter 3. What do you think?”

A pause. Nathan worries Toki will confess to a lack of understanding, but then he suddenly speaks up. “Don’t thinks it ams fair the pigs gets all the apples.”

Another chuckle. “Well, I don’t think it’s fair either.”

A blanket kicks up. Something folds. The mattress groans. “I thinks all the animals should be sharins,” he hears Toki say into the phone.  

“I feel the same way, Toke.”

“Why didn’ts them pigs share, Magnus?”

A simple, but foolish question, Nathan thinks. It suggests more than a lack of understanding, but gives away that Toki doesn’t comprehend the deeper layers, and that this is just a story about talking animals for him. Nathan’s bottom lip curls inward as he relives a memory of Magnus lying on top of the sofa, pages held open with thumb and pinky. Magnus tells him of a dystopian future where everyone’s at the bottom, where there are worker bees and handful of queens at the very top. Metaphor after metaphor, and Magnus peeling off his jacket because he’s so excited, tongue tripping at the increasing velocity of his words.

Nathan remembers, and admired that side of Magnus. Magnus, who always had something to say, who unleashed a crashing wave of information that, although incomprehensible to Nathan, sounded good. The man had passion, to say the least. Only problem was him constantly trying to insert it, to force it into Nathan’s head, his thoughts and his message. Cram. Shove. Jam. Hammer it all in, and when none of it stuck, and Nathan never applied, Manus got mad. Grew cold, distant and resentful.

Poor Toki, Nathan thinks, and awaits Magnus’ vengeful attack on the kid’s lack of intelligence.

“Well... why do you think the pigs won’t share?”

The question takes Nathan by surprise. He almost second guesses, thinks maybe it was Toki who asked, but then hears Toki hum aloud and guess it’s because the pigs want to keep the good tasting food for themselves, which is why they lied in the first place. Nathan hears another chuckle, this one louder, and approving.

“So, you know they’re lying?”

There’s a giggle from Toki. “Ams not a very good excuse,” he says. Magnus agrees, tells Toki he’s on to something, and the compliment earns stupid little noise from Toki.  “I wonder if them animals will change their minds abouts them pigs…”

“You’ll have to wait later, man.”

“Oh, why nots now?”

“My break ends in about five,” Magnus replies. Nathan hears the disappointing sigh emitting from Toki. He hates to hear it. He hates knowing the rise it gives Magnus knowing Toki wants him to continue reading. The silence in the air hangs low, affecting everyone. “We’ll talk more about apples and the farm later, when you’re awake, alright?”

“Oh, okays.” More blankets shift as Toki nears the phone. Or maybe he’s holding on to the phone. Nathan has his back to the wall, eyes looking away from the light, from the intimate scene he never should’ve listened in on. “I likes the story so far. Even though them pigs ams kinda fishy, the horses and other animals ams nice.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

Strange to hear his voice so soft, so gentle and accepting of another man’s limitations. Even weirder to hear Magnus compliment the horse. Last he remembered, Magnus hated the horse. Nathan grimaces at yet another memory that dared to rise from his personal, repressed storage. He crushes it before it can take form, but Nathans still wonders where the hell was this version of Magnus 17 years ago?

“Well, time’s almost up.”

“Thanks you for readins to me,” Toki chirps. Magnus tells the kid no problem, and Nathan silently gags at the sound Toki makes. A loud, audible smack. He’s kissing the damn phone. Really, Toki? “G’night, Magnus.” 

“Sweet dreams, Toki.”

Nathan stares out, mind dwelling on the conversation. Where’s the damn cross comparison, the conspiracy and literary theories, and that long rave about how ignorant Toki was for not considering the “bigger picture?” Why wasn’t Magnus mad at Toki for asking such a dumb question? Why was it that he got yelled at for not understanding Magnus, for crushing his vision, for not appreciating his contribution and message, but Toki gets to be read to, gets to ask stupid questions and earns warm appraisals for coming up with half-assed responses? Where is the fairness in that?

Nathan blinks, and realizes it’s silent. The air is still and lacking the warm glow from before, and the stone wall pressed against his back emits its solid, unforgiving chill. The light in Toki’s room is off, and was likely turned off the moment the call ended, and now it’s just him, standing alone in the dark, obsessed over the memory of a man who no longer existed. 

Nathan hangs his head low. No fair. I at least knew it wasn’t about animals.

#magnus hammersmith #toki wartooth #nathan explosion #magtok #hammertooth #implied magnate??? #metalocalypse #fanfic #needs editing

[s13e06]

Recuerdos Perdidos Pt 4

Draco Malfoy/ Female Reader

Harry Potter AU

Warnings: implied trauma

Words: 3.6K

Pt 1, Pt 2, Pt 3

-

Chapter 4

“What do you mean by a healer?” was the first question that left your mouth. Draco seemed to look at you in surprise before seeming to come to a realization.

 “Ah, well I suppose you might call them a doctor”.

You nodded slowly before his words finally began to sink in. This means that you were getting your memory back. All of it. You were finally going to be able to fill in those missing pieces. The pain in your head that never fully went away will finally begin to subside. 

“Will we have to do that magic teleportation thing to get there?” you asked beginning to get a little worried. “I really don’t want to hurl again”. You said with a little frown.

Draco only chuckled at you in amusement before shaking his head. “Don’t worry, we can take the car this time.” 

“Thank god,” you sighed before you straightened yourself up and clapped your hands together lightly. “Alright, when are we going?” 

“As soon as you’re ready to leave,” he replied calmly while giving you a quick once over. 

He had only looked you up and down for a brief moment but it was enough to cause your stomach to flutter. You were starting to get wrapped up in the fact that he was an attractive boy who you happened to be alone with. But what you were so desperately trying to remind yourself of was that he wasn’t necessarily a stranger to you. This was someone from your past. Someone who had already given you up a long time ago. He may have almost kissed you but really it may just have been because he was in a vulnerable state… then again it was the pictures that made him cry. Nothing really made sense and it was becoming increasingly harder to try and convince yourself that you didn’t care about him at all.

Because even though you had no memories of him… it was like somewhere in your mind you had missed him?

“We’re going to go at this hour?” you asked while snapping your attention back to Draco after thinking to yourself for a moment. ”Will the doctors still be taking appointments?”

You must have said something stupid because Draco just smiled again before giving you a kind of endearing look.

“Don’t worry, I’ve made a private appointment with her.” He told you while moving towards your bedroom door. “I take it you’re ready to go?”  He asked while glancing back at you.

“Yeah” you mumbled out as the anxiety began to set in. “better now than never” - The car ride to the “doctor” was a little uncomfortable, to say the least. Neither of you had said a word for the last ten minutes or so and the last thing either of you had said was a half-joking comment from him about how we were traveling there the “muggle way” for your sake. You assumed it was his attempt at trying to deliver some humor to the situation but all it did was remind you just how insane this last week had been.

You went from discovering you had repressed memories to finding out about magic all in the same day. Not to mention a past relationship and odd lingering feelings. Honestly, it was beginning to weigh down heavily on you. You turned your head to the side to glance at Draco. You thought it was kind of funny that he would be driving. Not because you didn’t think he couldn’t but just because he came off to you as the type to have their own personal chauffer. But for all, you knew he did and this was just his way of keeping others out of the situation the two of you were in.

Yes… this situation.

Come to think of it. You never really did wrap your head around the reason why he agreed to get your memories back. It was obviously important to him that you had lost them in the first place. He didn’t even have any intentions of seeing you again so why is he going along with it now? Simply because you asked? That didn’t really make sense…

If you asked would he tell you the truth?

“You’ve been staring at me for quite a while now,” Draco said briefly shifting his eyes to stare back into yours. 

 “Why are you doing this for me?” you asked hesitantly. “Didn’t you want me to forget to begin with?” confusion was etched on your features. Draco seemed to tense a little at your question. His knuckles be

gan to turn white as you watched him grip the steering wheel. “You came all this way despite losing your memories… even when I thought I’d never see you again you found your way back to me”. He began with bated breath. “Restoring your memories after you’ve come so far is the least I can do”. He finished.

You furrowed your brow as you mulled over his words. 

“Besides… once you regain them… I don’t think you’ll want to be near me again.” He added so quietly you almost thought he didn’t mean for you to hear.

“What do you mean by tha-“

“We’re here” he interrupted your questioning as he pulled the car next to a rather dingy looking building.

You decided it was better to not press him further.

As you stepped out of the car and took in the building before you doubt began to set in your stomach. The building was old and broken. The aging bricks looked as though they would crumble in any given moment, the windows were clouded and dirty, and stone steps had begun to erode in some places.

Was this really where magical doctors practiced?

You briefly worried about the state of their healthcare system. Glancing at Draco skeptically he seemed to pick up on your worry. 

“Follow me” he chuckled.

You did as you were told even though you were beginning to question this entire situation. Was it really a good idea to just hop in a car with someone who could be considered a stranger and allow him to drive you to God knows where?

Perhaps all your recent life events had impacted your judgment.

Standing behind Draco as he approached the beaten old door, you watched carefully while he briefly checked his surroundings before pulling out his magic stick and pressing it a few times against the door.

At first, you were unsure of what was supposed to be happening until a soft click noise could be heard coming from the door. Then as if it had a mind of its own, you watched the door slowly creak open to allow you two in. Draco didn’t even spare you a glance before stepping inside and you were quick to follow. 

To say that you were surprised was a complete understatement. 

One quick look around the inside and you found that your previous assumption had been way off. The floors were a sparkling polished white marble, the walls clean and neatly decorated with various paintings, tasteful plants were spotted throughout the area and as you studied them closer you found that they were rather odd in appearance, there were large brown couches for waiting on and neatly done coffee tables placed in front of them, and on those tables were various magazines and newspapers all with moving pictures on them. 

You gaped at your surroundings before you noticed that Draco was starting to walk towards what you presumed to be the reception desk. 

“Hello I have an appointment set with Ms. Snipebane” he spoke calmly.

“Of course, let me inform her that you’ve arrived” the woman behind the counter replied quickly.

As Draco stood at the counter you let your eyes wander to follow some of the people who you assumed were staff at this... was hospital the right word? They all looked very well kept and orderly. All clean clothes and nice haircuts. None of them seemed to pay you any mind either. These people belonged to a completely different world than you and yet they had no clue. 

“C’mon” you heard Draco speak next to you, breaking you out of your thoughts as he gently nudged you to follow him. 

A rather tall red-headed woman led the two of you down a narrow white hallway before making two left turns and stopping in front of a rather crisp looking door. Glancing to the side of it you read a golden plaque that was proudly placed on the wall. It gleamed, “Wanda Snipebane”.

The redhead knocked her fist sharply against the door three times before it swung open revealing a young woman. She was beautiful. A model like figure and perfect skin. You were sure you were staring because she cleared her throat and smirked at you slightly. 

“Draco, how good to see you, come in” she spoke softly as she stepped aside to let you both in. 

“Have a seat, you two” the woman spoke as she gestured to a purple leather loveseat sat adjacent to her desk. 

Sitting down quickly you couldn’t help but feel as though you were out of place. There were more odd plants sat along the windowsill and a few fuzzy books on her bookshelf. You weren’t usually one to judge the appearance of things like books. But usually, they weren’t bound in fur and scales. Looking closer you could even swear you saw one move. Hopefully, it didn’t have teeth as well you briefly mused.  

Your thoughts were interrupted by the woman clearing her voice as she sat down across from the two of you. 

“Now… quite frankly, I never thought that I’d see you in here again Mr. Malfoy” she spoke with a smile. One that read concern and not amusement. You weren’t sure why.

Glancing at Draco you saw him purse his lips. “Yes, well… as you can probably guess I’d like to pick up where we left off last time.” He spoke curtly. “This time I think that you’ll find an answer much quicker as… well, she’s here with me now” he finished while making a slight gesture towards you. 

Just then the doctor’s eyes were studying you intently as a sad sort of smile adorned her face. 

“Ahh, I thought that might be the case,” she said to you leaning slightly forward. “Tell me, dear, why do you think you’re here?”

You didn’t notice the lump in your throat before she called on you to speak but now it was as if you couldn’t swallow it. 

With a heavy sigh, you began to speak, “Well, it seems that I’ve had my memory erased. I don’t remember much of anything, just some flashes here and there. I suppose I wouldn’t have even known I was missing any memories if it wasn’t for the pain that comes with it.” 

The doctor’s eyes grew large at your words. “Pain you say?” she questioned eagerly.

“Yes, certain things seem to trigger memories but they’re hard to make out and the longer I see them the more intense the pain grows. Like a throbbing in my head that will never end.”

“And what exactly is it that triggers these random memories, if you don’t mind me asking?” 

You most certainly did mind as the topic itself was a little embarrassing in hindsight. “Not at all” however, is what you replied. “The first time it was triggered was when I found some old photos that I don’t remember taking. Except I was in them… and so was he” you spoke softer while nodding your head towards Draco. “I couldn’t make sense of it at first… how could I have pictures of memories I don’t have? Of a boy, I didn’t even know… Next thing I knew I was in an unbelievable amount of pain as brief flashes of memories started pounding in my mind”.

Ms. Snipebane looked rather enthralled in your story as she began to scribble some things down on a notepad.

“Then what did you do after that?” she asked curiously. “It’s to my understanding that you’re from and currently live in America, correct? So how did you end up here?”

The fact that she obviously knew you before you even entered this room struck you as a little unsettling but it was the least interesting of all the mysteries currently in your life, so you let it slide. 

“Well, the box I found the pictures in was full of other things from the summer I lived with my grandparent’s in England. I could even see their house in the background of one of the photos. I remembered that trip and almost everything in that box except for a few items and those photos. But I knew I wouldn’t find answers there so I packed up my things and came to my grandparent’s house. I figured it was a start to solving this mystery” you told her, beginning to relax.

“Fascinating” was all she said before her gaze shifted to Draco for just the slightest moment. 

You so desperately wanted to turn fully and see what kind of look he had on his face.

Ms. Snipebane then stood from her chair and made her way over to where the two of you sat.

“Do you mind if I check something, dear?” she asked you with a gentle smile. “Go right ahead” you replied mentally preparing yourself for whatever this magical lady was about to do.

Just as you had predicted she pulled a wand from the inside of her coat. The tip of the wand began to glow as she whispered something in Latin and raised it towards your head. You almost expected it to hurt but instead, all you felt was a little tingle.

She stared at you intensely as her wand moved about areas of your head. You glanced to the side to see Draco watching you too, a sort of fascinated look on his face.

You began to worry just what it was they were looking at when she stepped back. 

“Well” she started with a tight-lipped sort of smile “as you know, the good news is, reversing an obliviation is doable. Not to mention the fact that somehow her mind is already trying to do it for her. I’ve never seen such a thing” she noted. “And the bad news?” Draco asked looking a little tense.

“The bad news,” she said while clearing her throat lightly “Is that the process to complete a reversal is not so easy. I’ve only seen it done once before when I was studying in Australia. It might take me some time to acquire all the necessary knowledge needed to perform it.”

“When will that be?” Draco pressed; subtle irritation laced in his voice. Ms. Snipebane gave him a sort of pitiful smile before her eyes fell upon you again. “For you dear, I’ll have it ready in two weeks’ time”.

~ Draco told you to wait back in the lobby as he spoke to Ms. Snipebane about a few more things. You didn’t like the idea of them talking about you behind your back so obviously. Just because you don’t know anything about magic doesn’t mean you an idiot when it comes to everything else. 

Sitting in the lobby with all the magical folk, you couldn’t help but feel like you were secretly being watched. Like they all knew you weren’t one of them. A little voice inside your head was telling you to just get up and leave. To forget about even recovering these memories. You were perfectly fine before even discovering you’d lost them. 

Weren’t you?

“Let’s go” came Draco’s voice from beside you. The fact that you hadn’t even heard him approach you made your heart race a little in surprise. But you made no outer reaction. Instead, you just stood with a nod as you followed him out the door. 

Getting back into the car the silence quickly became too much to handle and without really thinking it through you turned to Draco and blurted out that you needed to talk. 

“Of course” was all he responded with, looking a little sheepish.

“How did she know so much about me already?” you asked letting out a little huff. “I know she didn’t say a whole lot when I was there but that’s just the problem. She didn’t ask me much because she already knew everything didn’t she?”

You were staring at Draco with a sort of stern look. Trying to appear confident and resolved. He only bit his lip slightly before glancing in the rearview mirror and cursing slightly under his breath. 

Next thing you knew he was swinging the car right in a sharp turn as he veered onto an empty street. 

You looked around a little nervously. If this didn’t look like the perfect place to hack somebody to bits then you’d be dammed. 

“I spoke about you to her when I wrote the letter arranging for the appointment. I had to tell her everything I knew about you so she’d be able to do some research ahead of time. I didn’t want her prodding you with a million questions upon first meeting. I had a feeling you might get a little overwhelmed.” Draco said while lowering his hands from the steering wheel and turning to meet your eyes.

Well, that was kind of considerate of him, you supposed. But that begged the question of why he felt he could trust her so much if his whole family hated you and the wizarding world had some sort of blood class system. 

“You obviously trust her a lot,” you said while forming the rest of your thoughts “and it was clear you knew each other well before. How were you so sure she’d be willing to help?” you asked genuinely curious. 

Draco let out a dry chuckle. “Let’s just say her forte is fixing broken people. I knew she would be willing to help me simply because I’m her favorite client.” She liked to fix broken people? Well, that explained why she’d be interested in you. But, Draco’s comment regarding himself left a heavy feeling in your chest. “Family issues?” you asked, hoping you weren’t crossing a line.

“Amongst other things” he replied.

You could tell the topic was something he wasn’t ready to share yet so you moved on from it. 

“What will you do after I regain my memory?” you questioned him, curious to know what he had been thinking the last couple of days. 

He looked a bit taken back by the question, as though he hadn’t even considered it before. 

“Well… I suppose I just assumed you’d go back home after remembering how things ended between us and I would continue with my… previous engagements.” He said trailing off a little at the end.

The statement had you puzzled. You wanted to question with these previous engagements were or even maybe who they were… but the first part was a much more pressing matter. 

“What was it that happened between us in the end? That’s the second time you’ve mentioned me leaving after finding out the truth… what did you do to me that was so horrible?” you gave him a serious look as you could tell he was starting to get uncomfortable again. “You might as well tell me now considering I’m bound to find out in a few weeks anyway.”

He seemed to consider this.

“I said things to you… in an effort to make you hate me. Things that I… can never take back” he said. 

“Did you mean them?” you asked.

“No, never” was his quick response. Looking into his steely eyes you could tell there was sincerity in them.

“Then I’ll keep that in mind” you responded before you both grew silent. With that, he started the car again and began to drive.

The rest of the ride home was quiet as you both seemed to be thinking deeply. When he dropped you back at your grandparent’s house he simply wished you a good night before driving away again. You knew there was so much left unsaid between the two of you but you figured all truths would be eventually exposed. Looking up at the dark night sky as you walked up the path to your grandparent’s house you felt incredibly small. 

You weren’t sure what time it was but you knew you were much too anxious to sleep anytime soon. 

As you neared your door you suddenly stopped. You had the most intense rush of fear rush through you out of nowhere. It was like you could feel someone watching you. 

Without giving it much thought you whipped your head to the right and stared out into the distant field. At first, you saw nothing as your eyes strained to focus in the dark. But, then you could make it out. The eerie silhouette of a woman standing in the distance, maybe only a hundred feet away. You knew in your gut it was the same woman from before. 

Terror coursed through you as you quickly started to fumble for your keys to unlock the door. In true horror movie fashion, you dropped them just as you were about to stick the key into the hole. Your hands were shaking like crazy as a thousand thoughts coursed through your mind. A voice inside your head was practically screaming for you to run. 

You bent down to pick them up and as you stood you heard a voice whisper from behind you as a chill ran down your spine.

“Care for a chat?”

____

AN:// Uh hello?!?!? I’m back from the dead you guys. I literally have no excuse for waiting this long to release this. I’ve been meaning to finish this chapter for months but today as i was driving home I was finally hit with the inspiration I needed. I have a lot in mind for this work and I hope you all see it through with me. I’m so sorry about taking like 9 months off from writing but ummm I’m back now I promise lol. Please let me know what you all think! :)

P.S a one shot may or may not be coming to you all soon.

-----

Taglist:  @screaming123 @bi-andready-tocry

#Draco Malfoy #Draco #draco malfoy fic #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco fanfiction #draco x reader #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter au #harry potter imagine #draco malfoy x reader

[gaylotusthatexists]

For the sanders sides prompt, could you do demonic/ ghostly possession? Any characters are good!

red eyes and dark shadows

fandom: sanders sides

pairing: dukexiety (could be read as romantic or platonic)

prompt: demonic/ghostly possession 

trigger warnings: blood mention, murder mention 

word count: 2232

a/n: this is written for the @badthingshappenbingo​! actually it’s been a concept i’ve been meaning to explore for a while so! thanks for requesting it haha, had a lot of fun with this

ao3

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Virgil asked, ducking beneath a plank of wood as he followed Remus into the abandoned house, sat just on the edge of their village.

Remus smirked. "Of course it's a good idea!"

"I dunno," Virgil murmured, glancing around at the house. It was dusty, and dark, and had a horrible smell, like somebody had died in here and their corpse was still rotting somewhere close by. Somebody probably had died in here, given the police tape outside the building, remnants of a long since abandoned case, and the fact that nobody had lived here for decades. God, somebody had probably been murdered in here. "This place doesn't seem very safe."

"Eh, I come in here all the time," Remus said, beginning to walk up the stairs.

Virgil cautiously followed, cringing as the stairs made a creaking sound when he stepped on them, feeling as though they were this close to breaking. He breathed in and out to compose himself, before continuing his journey, trying not to think about how these stairs could give in, resulting in him falling to his certain doom. He told himself over and over that, if Remus had come here so often, then it must be safe, right? Remus was still very much alive, at all. Although, it did concern Virgil that Remus had come here before, frequently - what was he even doing here all the time?

Probably trying to summon something. Just like he was attempting to do now. God, how had Virgil managed to get himself roped into this? He loved Remus, he really did, but... he didn't particularly like his way of doing things. Definitely wasn't a fan of the chaos Remus always seemed to cause. Mundane chaos, of course - Virgil thought, at least - but it seemed as though something much worse was about to happen. Virgil couldn't shake the feeling away, couldn't silence his brain screaming as him to run, to abandon Remus and let him do the whole 'demon summoning' thing.

Although, Virgil had to admit that the whole 'demon summoning' thing did intrigue him, sorta. Like, logically he knew that demons weren't real, and at most all this would be is chanting, being disappointed, then probably being arrested by the police for trespassing. But, of course, part of him did believe in demons and the supernatural and ghosts and everything - mostly the part in his brain that conjured up demons at night so he couldn't get to sleep because if he closed his eyes the demon sitting in the corner of his room would most certainly murder him, but there was also a part of his brain that couldn't help but think that the existence of demons would be so fucking cool.

"You still have the book, right?" Remus asked, stopping at the top of the stairs.

Virgil took off his backpack and opened it, taking out a large, old book, the pages yellowing and delicate. His friend Logan had lent it to him, without Virgil explaining his intended use - trust Logan to own some ancient demon summoning book.

"Nice," Remus said with a grin, opening the door into another room, seemingly falling apart. The roof had a giant hole in the corner, allowing the moonlight to flood in, and also allowing birds to fly into the room. Remus ran into the room, scaring away the birds, then turned back to Virgil. "You can read it, right?"

"I mean, it's all in latin," Virgil said, slowly stepping into the room and joining Remus. "I can try."

"Good, you're reading then," Remus decided.

In the centre of the room, Remus had drawn a pentagram with some sort of bright red substance - paint, probably, but Virgil had his doubts. He'd also set candles around the pentagram, which he began to light with a lighter. Part of Virgil wanted to take the lighter away for fear that Remus may end up burning the house down - it was built entirely from wood, this entire place was a fire hazard - but didn't want to risk getting burnt himself. Besides, Remus must have known what he was doing, right?

"Where'd you get all this red paint from?" Virgil asked, finding the silence as Remus set everything up to be rather awkward.

"I never said it was paint."

Virgil blinked. "Oh. Uh. What is it then?"

"Blood, obviously," Remus said.

Virgil wanted to assume that Remus meant fake blood, but part of him was convinced otherwise. "Blood?" he repeated. He wasn't sure if he really wanted to dig any further.

"If we're gonna summon a demon, we might as well do it properly," Remus said, lighting the final candle and standing on the opposite side of the pentagram to Virgil.

Virgil breathed in. "Yeah, uh, about that... have you thought about what's gonna happen when - I mean, if we manage to summon a demon?"

Remus nodded. "I've been fantasising about this for years," he said, an excited glint in his eyes.

Virgil tried his best not to be alarmed at that. "Alright, uh..."

"The demon should stay trapped inside the pentagram," Remus continued. "After that, uh, we have a demon."

"Okay..." That didn't sound like much of a plan, but Virgil decided to give Remus the benefit of the doubt. This would be fine. Demons weren't real, anyway, it wasn't as if anything bad would happen.

"Read, then," Remus instructed.

Virgil opened the book, beginning to flick through the pages. "Uh, what page?"

Remus shrugged. "Any will be fine, I think."

Virgil stopped at a random page and read the words, not entirely sure if the pronunciation was right but it was worth a shot. Part of him hoped that he was reading it wrong, because then on the off chance that demons were indeed real, there was less of a chance of him successfully summoning one.

The pentagram at his feet began to glow. For a moment, Virgil stopped reading, a little shaken. That... He must have been imagining that, right?

"Carry on!" Remus shouted.

Virgil cleared his throat, then continued to read. He felt the wind pick up around him, blowing through his hair and causing a few of the candles to flicker out. He figured that was probably just a coincidence, even though that day hadn't been particularly windy - in fact, it has been a pretty warm, summery day. But it must have been a coincidence - half the roof was missing, it made sense.

But then the candles relit themselves and the pentagram began to glow again. Virgil had reached the end of the page. He glanced up from the book, noticing a shadow beginning to form inside the pentagram, a cloud of darkness slowly rising. Virgil dropped the book on the floor in shock, cringing at first at the sudden crash but thinking afterwards that maybe that was good, maybe that would stop whatever was going on. Maybe the dark figure standing in the pentagram, an almost humanoid being, shifting on the spot and changing form every two seconds, would go away.

Remus grinned. "We did it!" he exclaimed, excitedly.

Virgil stopped back. "Uh, what- what exactly did we do?"

"We summoned a demon!" Remus said, bouncing up and down on the spot. "We actually did it, Virge!"

Virgil tried his very best to remain calm, but couldn't stop his arms from shaking. "Wh-What do we do now?" They couldn't just keep this demon around, could they? Christ, the demon could kill them at any second. How had they even done this?

Remus hummed, standing still for a moment. "Huh. I don't know. I didn't actually think we'd get this far."

Virgil's eyes widened and he leaped back again, backing up towards the wall. The book was on fire. Shit. Fuck - the whole room was built out of wood, this-

"Remus, we really should-"

Remus fell to the floor. The shadow had disappeared. But the fire didn't appear to be calming down any time soon. Virgil rushed over towards Remus and hoisted him up, leaning his body against his own. Remus was unconscious - great, just great. They had to get out of here, before they both burnt alive. Virgil attempted to carry Remus out the room and down the stairs, moving slowly underneath Remus' weight but escaping from the fire nonetheless.

But before they made it out, Remus' eyes opened, and his body heated up, forcing Virgil to let go at the sudden heat against his skin. Remus rose a few feet into the air, his eyes glowing red. That... That wasn't natural, was it? That shouldn't be happening.

"Remus, we really should-"

Remus shot down towards Virgil, grabbing his arm and digging his fingernails into his skin, causing Virgil to cringe from the pain. He still couldn't stop shaking. At any moment, he figured he'd probably start crying. He tried to repress that.

Remus wasn't looking like himself, not at all. Well, the red eyes probably said enough, and the fact that he was hovering in the air, his hair floating around him. But he also had black marks beginning to appear on his skin, drawing in over his face. He grinned, and Virgil noticed that his teeth were now pointed - not teeth, fangs.

Virgil tried to move, tried to run away, but he was frozen in place. He tried to call for help, but no words came out. This... This wasn't good. Fuck - he knew this had been a bad idea. He'd told Remus over and over again that this was a bad idea, and yet here he was, probably about to be killed by Remus, or... or by whatever had taken over Remus' body.

This wasn't Remus. This... This was the shadow demon, wasn't it? It must have taken over Remus' body. That was... Well, it wasn't exactly a logical explanation, but it was the only one that made sense. Remus was fucking possessed by a fucking demon. Brilliant.

Darkness escaped from Remus' mouth, heading closer to Virgil himself. Virgil held his breath and back away as much as he could. Just before the shadow reached his skin, he finally found the strength to pull himself away from Remus and dart out the door, tripping over as he ran out into the front garden onto the cold, hard concrete.

He scrambled to his back, trying to sit up and look at the building. The top floor was completely on fire now, and the house seemed close to collapsing. Maybe... Maybe that would be good - it would get rid of the demon, at least, but... Remus was still in there. He may have turned into a demon or whatever, but... it was still Remus. Virgil's best friend. If the building collapsed, then Remus would die as well.

Well, not anymore. Remus - no, the demon came flying out the house, straight towards Virgil still laying on the ground. He tried to back away, but Remus grabbed his shirt, pulling him up and holding him in place. Virgil really was crying now - perfect. The building behind them collapsed, a raging fire still burning. Virgil could hear sirens in the distance, so perhaps somebody had already seen the fire and alerted the emergency services. But, in all honesty, Virgil had more important things to be worrying about than the burning house, like the fact that an actual demon was about to murder him.

"Remus," he said, one more time, "you-"

And Virgil fell to the floor, a sharp pain soaring through his spine upon contact with the concrete. He looked back up at Remus, who's eyes had stopped glowing red now, thank God. His face was right above Virgil's, their noses almost touching, and that's when Virgil realised that Remus had fell on top of him, his hands resting either side of Virgil's body. He looked... confused. Scared.

Virgil shuffled out from under Remus, getting up into his feet, and helping Remus up afterwards. He glanced behind Remus, seeing that shadow demon again, escaping into the sky. It was gone. They were... They were safe.

Virgil threw his arms around Remus, but Remus pushed him back, moving away from him.

"I-"

"Remus," Virgil breathed. "You're..."

Remus brought a hand up to his arm, rubbing it gently. "I'm sorry. That- That was a bad idea."

"Yeah, no shit," Virgil said without thinking, immediately regretting it as he saw Remus flinch. "I- I mean... We should get out of here."

Remus was shaking. Actually shaking. Virgil had never known Remus to be so afraid of anything, afraid of himself.

"Y'know, fire and all," Virgil said, gesturing to the fire behind them, illuminating the night. Virgil stepped towards Remus, gently taking his hand. "Also, pretty sure the cops are coming. So, y'know, we should probably scram."

"I could have killed you," Remus said, quietly.

Virgil didn't quite know how to respond to that, so instead he just dragged Remus away from the scene, quickly picking up speed and running back towards his own house. Remus followed, but stayed quiet.

Before Virgil got home, he stopped, going to sit down on a bench on the side of the street. He pulled Remus close to him, hugging him tight. Remus' face was wet with tears, and the shaking had only gotten worse.

"No more summoning demons, yeah?" Virgil asked.

Remus chuckled lightly, but it came out as more of a sob. "Yeah. Agreed."

#bad things happen bingo #demonic/ghostly possession #sanders sides #thomas sanders #virgil sanders #ts virgil #remus sanders #ts remus #dukexiety #my writing #my fanfic #my fanfiction

[ddaenggtan]

forever rain | knj | m

Being dead isn't anything exciting. Just a lot of walking the same halls of the same apartment day after day after day. Things change when the new tennant arrives, though. Kim Namjoon isn't anything you could have expected; not the way he's so careful and gentle with his plants because he breaks so many other things, not the way his friends joke that he's psychic because you refuse to let him get in the face one time, and certainly not the way he comes home after literal months spent moving things away from table edges for him and announces that he knows he's being haunted and he has some questions for you. You didn't know ghosts could fall in love, but he makes you feel alive again, like you're standing in the rain while thunder crashes around you. You should've known nothing good would come of falling in love with someone living, though. You should've known that heartbreak was the only way this could end...that the rain doesn't last forever. 

part of the Love Yourself Collab, please please please go check out the other fics. Everyone involved is so freaking talented and I have been vibrating out of my skin with how excited I’ve been to read all of these. 

pairing | kim namjoon x reader (unspecified gender, even!)

word count | 18.8k | cross posted to ao3

genre/warnings | ghost!reader, slight fluff, hard angst, literally the most angst ever it gets fluffy for a bit but litERALLY this is an angst fic, major character death, unprotected sex (idk what the etiquette for ghost sex is but you should still wrap it before you tap it fam), depictions of terminal illness (v mild), mentions of blood (several, but not graphic), major character death, allusions to violence, namjoon is a klutz whats new, depictions of terminal illness, major character death, i added that tag three times pls dont read this if you aren’t comf with mcd bc i literally tagged it three times so y’all would definitely see it, also probably have some tissues ready bc i cried while writing it so 

a/n | this is, to date, the saddest thing i have ever written in my entire fucking life. formal apologies to this joon bc oh my god you poor soul. i’m not kidding when i say you might cry, because i’m a big baby wuss and cried while writing the fucking outline when i first decided to write this for the collab so like......rip my own heart. i was really honored when i was approached about the LYA collab, bc like,,,,,mE? WHAT? and i was really nervous because i’ve never been part of any collabs in any fandom ever, and to have to do something like forever rain and mono as a whole justice, like,,,,,,, *screaming* y’know?? so i went on mono lockdown and just had the whole thing on repeat and was like “alright. what emotions does this make me feel.” and i eventually settled on the loneliness and isolation that he expresses, and feeling like no one understands what you’re going through, but that ultimately the album as a whole and forever rain give off this feeling of like. things get better, you’re not as alone as you feel, and you just gotta get through the bad stuff to find the good stuff. basically i just got really in my feels about it and was like ‘lets make myself cry ahahaha’ and,,,i dID i cried several times while planning and writing and editing bc im a Soft Bitch and don’t read much angst for that exact reason lmao. so buckle tf up y’all, this a helluva ride!! 

Of all the things you'd heard about death, all the different possibilities that existed in the world, the one thing you hadn't been prepared for was the boredom. You hadn't been prepared for any of it, really, too surprised by your own demise to plan at all, but even if you'd been able to, you don't think that this is what you would've counted on. An eternity - or however long ghosts existed - of being stuck in the same studio apartment you'd lived in when you died. The same walls, the same floor, the same view out the only window of the alley beside the building. It's boring and lonely and boring.

You've found more creative ways to entertain yourself as time passes. First, you started by figuring out just what being a ghost meant. You can't really communicate with anyone, haven't figured out how to make sure everything you say is heard, but you can manipulate objects pretty easily these days. The most difficult thing is becoming fully corporeal - completely visible and able to interact with things at the same time. It's hard enough to be visible, and you aren't really sure what the point of it would be when it would just scare whoever's living in your apartment; that's the last thing you want to do, run them off when they're the best source of amusement you've found.

You won't lie, you were a little offended when the first tenants moved in after you. It was difficult to watch your things get packed up and moved out by your friends, hard to lose all of the little things you loved in your apartment, like the shitty bead curtain you'd gotten as a gag gift or the photo collage of all of your loved ones. It's frustrating to not know how they're all doing these days; the one time you got brave enough to fuck with a laptop to check on them, you nearly broke the thing, and you haven't tried since. Still, it seemed cathartic for them to clear out your apartment, and it was a bittersweet sight, but you tried to focus on the positive side of it.

And then the couple moved in.

Not only did they fuck like rabbits - which is something you're going to stay pissed about, because there's no satisfaction to be had by you anymore, and it's the one thing you can think of that would be endlessly entertaining - but the couple was also grossly obnoxious. They had zero respect for your apartment , or you, and while one could argue that they didn't actually know you were there, it still made the sting of losing your entire life that much worse. You spent you don't know how many nights hovering awkwardly in the bathroom while they fucked, would constantly wander in to see them going at it on the kitchen counter at ass o'clock in the morning, and once you came in to see them tossing actual literal eggs at the ceiling like the absolute fucking weirdos they were.

So, naturally, you got a little mad. How dare they treat your apartment like that? They had no respect, but they were going to learn it real quick if they were going to live there with you, whether they wanted to or not.

They didn't last long after the first night of slamming cabinets and squealing hinges, but the thrown picture frame of their family was the conclusive end to their stay.

There have been others, since then. They haven't all been terrible, not like that first couple, but most of them have been sub-par roommates, and if you decided early on that if the rest of your immortal life is going to be locked in one shitty apartment with the absolute worst view in the city - because no one wants to see the drunken hookups and potential body dumps that take place in that alley - then you're at least going to share said apartment with someone nice to exist with.

You release a heavy sigh, staring at where your hand disappears through the shower wall. You've taken to testing the boundaries of the apartment again; you already know what the result will be, learned in the first few hours that you're stuck here, but you can't help trying when you get really bored. You just got distracted fucking around with the pipes in the meantime, because you're literally too bored to even focus. It's part of why you miss the last tenants so much, because you weren't ever really bored with them around.

A single mother and her two kids, crammed into a much-too-small apartment because it was all they could afford, and they were the light of your un-life. One a budding teenager that wrote angsty poetry who loved your trick of making things float around, and one an adorable toddler who adored playing peekaboo with you and coloring, and a mom that was too busy to notice anything out of the ordinary. It was like having a family again, made you feel useful when you could pull the meat out of the freezer for her to make dinner with or scratch a quick 'do your homework' on a steamy bathroom mirror. It was fun and it made being dead that much more bearable.

You really should've known that letting the toddler draw the two of you would be a bad idea, especially since there were several artistic liberties taken. It's not your fault the kid thought you'd look cool with fangs and bloody holes instead of eyes and claws that reached the floor. It was art, it was supposed to be a little different from reality. Still, you can't blame her for seeing the picture of her kid and 'my new best friend' and immediately calling the landlord. And a priest.

So, perhaps you gave the apartment a bit of a reputation. Maybe it's been a couple of months since the mom moved out and took your two buds with her. There might be the possibility that you've been the slightest bit salty about losing your friends and you've been extra-ghost-y whenever someone comes by to view the place in an attempt to make yourself feel a little better. Can you really be blamed for that? You just want a decent damn roommate for your life after death, and if that means putting the potentials through a little bit of a test, then so be it. You only feel a little bit bad for the landlord.

The creak of the front door pulls you from your thoughts, and the echo of a voice makes you narrow your eyes. Your first instinct is to slam some windows to scare off whoever's in your apartment, but you repress the urge. You'd die of boredom if you could die again, and whoever this is could provide a few hours' entertainment at the least.

You pop your head through the bathroom wall to see what's going on, and wow , who let an actual giant into your apartment? Fucking with the pipes could definitely wait for this guy.

"I know it's last minute, yeah," He says into the phone that's held carefully between his cheek and shoulder. His arms are loaded down with boxes and he's angled away from you just enough that you can't see his face, but he's tall and broad and wearing what looks like the world's comfiest sweater, and you want to badly to wrap yourself up in him. "But you know Joon needs the help. Don't pretend you aren't constantly willing to put off your thesis, I know for a fact that you went out to look at stationery with Tae last week, and everyone knows that's the most boring thing on the planet."

He's quiet, listening to the soft crackle of a voice from the other end. You slide through the wall completely, hovering as close as you dare to try and hear what the other person is saying. Tall, Broad, and Comfy scoffs.

"He can stare at one sheet of paper for at least ten minutes, Yoongi. Do I need to remind you of the time he spent an entire fucking hour debating which set of holiday scrapbook to buy because, and I quote, 'this one has the really nice rose pattern on it that would look great with the invitations, but, oh, look at the pinstripes in this one!'" His voice morphs into what you guess is an approximation of whoever Tae is, and you laugh at the high-pitched, nasally tone.

Tall and Broad spins, eyes narrowing as he looks around the room, and fuck , he's literally gorgeous. You've never seen someone more attractive in your life or your death and it would probably knock the wind out of you if you actually had breath. Comfy McGorgeous turns back around and sets the stack of boxes in the corner, continuing his tirade about Tae and stationery while simultaneously trying to talk Yoongi into coming, you assume, to help Joon move. You don't know who any of these people are, but they're already proving to be the most entertaining bunch that's ever graced these walls.

The door to your apartment flies open, making both you and Boyfriend Material whip your head around.

"Christ, Jin, you couldn't hold the fucking door open for us?" Someone grunts. Beauty Von Softness - or, Jin, as you should probably refer to him - winces and strides over to do just that as two more guys stagger in with a couch suspended between them. The second they're in the door they drop it to the ground and flop onto it, panting and sweaty.

"Listen, I was busy trying to get our resident hermit out of his cave to help us carry some of this shit," Jin spits back. "And you all know what it's like getting him out and about."

"Did you tell him that there's pizza after we're done? Because I've found that food is the best motivator for him," the guy closest to the door says. His hair is soft-looking and long and you wish you could pet it.

The other guy, the one who cursed Jin out and has the softest pink hair you've ever seen, laughs. "Jeongguk, you always think the best motivator is food."

"Well, yeah, because it is."

"For you, maybe. Other people require actual rewards."

"But food is a reward," Jeongguk mutters into the fabric of the couch. Jin tsks and smacks As Yet Unnamed on the back of the head.

"You're lucky I hung up on him when you bombarded your way into this place, or he'd definitely not come help us," Jin says as he leans against the back of the couch.

Unnamed starts to say something else but is cut off by someone running straight into the end of the couch. They all shoot to their feet, spouting apologies as the three of them maneuver the couch into the apartment properly.

"Sorry, sorry, Jimin distracted us from properly finishing our job," Jeongguk says quickly. He looks to the stranger with a small apologetic smile, and you're pretty sure if it were humanly possible, there would be actual literal stars in his eyes.

"Oh, it's okay, Jeonggukkie. I should've been looking where I was going." New Challenger walks straight towards where you stand, and you realize seconds before it's too late that he is not aware there is a massive stack of boxes in his path. Instinctively, you shove them to the side with your foot. Tall And Oblivious sets his boxes down without any trouble, none the wiser about any of it, and the three near the couch are too busy bickering in hushed whispers to have noticed you doing anything.

The newcomer straightens and turns to look at them all with a bright smile, and you think you might actually see The Light in the way his cheeks dimple. If you thought the other three were beautiful - which they are, no doubt about that, you're seriously wondering why the hell a bunch of supermodels are moving stuff into your apartment - then this guy is easily an Actual Fucking God or something. His brown hair is soft and shiny, his smile is warmer than the sun, and you're fairly positive that for the first time since you died, you feel goosebumps along your arms.

"Seriously, Namjoon, we should've realized you'd be up soon. You stay, start unpacking while we go get the rest of the furniture." Jimin shoves Jeongguk out the door while he's speaking, ignoring the taller's complaints, and Jin just shakes his head at the sight.

"Yoongi'll be here soon, he's finishing up another draft of his thesis. Hobi and Tae are stopping to get the pizzas and then they'll be here, too." Jin's voice is calmer than it was Jimin and Jeongguk, more soothing, and it makes you curious. Not only because of the tone change, but because you know Hobi, he owns the building and is the one who rented you the apartment when you first moved in. One of your favorite things to do is scare him when he comes by to make sure everything’s ready for a viewing.

"What? No, I said I was gonna pay for pizzas!" Namjoon looks distinctly more upset about this than someone should over not having to pay for pizza, at least in your mind, and it only makes you more curious.

"Yeah, but you also just moved out of your old apartment because it was too expensive, and had like an hour to load everything into a truck, so you're gonna let their trust fund asses pay for pizzas. We're seven adult men, and Guk could eat an entire horse and still be hungry. I'm not letting you pay for that."

Silence hangs in the apartment for a while before Namjoon gives a soft thanks to Jin. They share a smile before Jin makes his way back out. You follow each step, shadowing him all the way to the door before you're stopped. You lean your entire body forward, struggling against the invisible barrier keeping you inside, and the force of it nearly slams you back into the wall when you sag in defeat.

You aren't sure why you try anymore, but you know yourself well enough to admit that you're not going to stop until you can at least make it to the hallway.

Whatever you expected Namjoon to be like as a roommate, however unknowing he is about the situation, you don't think you could've guessed what he's actually like.

Out of the seven boys you saw the day he moved in, he's the only one living there. Not a complete surprise, considering it's a studio apartment, but you remember when there were nine people living there at one point, and there was barely room for anyone to breathe even if it had been pretty consistently amusing. Still, for one person, he's got a ton of stuff, and it's a shock it all fits. His bed is massive and comfortable and the best place to lay during the day because it's shoved between the brick half-wall and the large windows that take up one wall. The area's supposed to be for a dining table, you think, but you'd had your bed there, too, and the familiarity is nice.

His couch is small and old but manages to fit five of them, and it's a pleasantly jarring difference from the coffee table that looks like - and might actually be - an old steamer trunk. The exposed brick wall you love holds his mounted TV, a feat that took Jeongguk and Yoongi a solid hour and a half because they kept stripping the screws, and it's got one of those 8-cubicle bookshelf things under it that stores a frankly obnoxious amount of books.

He's got mugs for days, an adorable if odd collection of figurines and mini-statues scattered around the apartment, a strange obsession with some reclaimed wood shelf he's got hanging above his bed, but the absolute highlight of it all is The Wall.

It took them three hours to get it installed and set up the way he wanted, between the placements and the thick wooden shelf they’re perched on with supports and a small safety bar along the edge to keep them from falling off, but along the entire windowed wall and partway after it turns the corner runs a long shelf absolutely covered in plants. There are some elsewhere, like the one he keeps hanging from the bathroom ceiling and the couple in the kitchen, but most are on The Wall. Each one is in its own special pot, each a unique color with a name painted carefully along it, and most of them look half-dead. They're all distinct and unique from each other and they all surely have different needs and ideal conditions, but you'd never guess because Namjoon is so wholly committed to them all. He takes time every day to water them and prune them if he needs to, he checks on them constantly. He even reinforced the safety bar for the ones that sit beside his bed, so there was less chance he'd accidentally knock them around while sleeping.

It's fascinating, watching him tend to them. He's so careful and gentle, with absolute precision in every moment. He cares for his plants the way some people would care for a pet or a child. He doesn’t believe any of them are past caring for, slowly nurses all of them back to health and frequently turns up with more he’s saved from some department store. The most endearing thing, though, you decide as you sit curled among the haphazard blankets of his bed and watch, is the talking. It's every day, for as long as it takes him to care for the plants, and it's the cutest thing in the world. He's talking to some succulent as you just stare at him, filling the comfortable silence of the apartment with his soft, soothing voice, and you wish he could hear you when you talk back to him.

"I know they mean well, but at some point, I've just gotta live my own life, y'know? I can't study something just because everyone expects me to, and I can't pursue some dream just because people think I'd be good at it. I've gotta do what's right for me, don't I?" His tone is positive and bright, a contrast to the gloomy sky that casts shadows across the apartment.

You float over, hovering beside him to look at the plant he's lovingly stroking with his thumb. It's in a pretty periwinkle pot, with the name 'Mang' painted in careful but shaky black handwriting. It's not your favorite - that's the one in the bathroom that hangs over its light blue bowl, a quickly scrawled 'Koya' on the bottom - but it seems to be one of Namjoon's personal favorites based on how often he talks to it specifically.

"I think it's nice you do things for yourself," You tell him. He doesn't react, unable to hear you, but it's nice to hear your own voice after so long. You slide one of the plants - Chim, in a small yellow bowl - to the side and away from his elbow, and he doesn't notice. "You know yourself better than they do. You should trust yourself."

He keeps mumbling to Mang, something about everyone following their own dreams and doing what they need over what people want or expect, when you lay your hand over his.

Thunder cracks through the sky and the first raindrops hits the window as your non-existent skin hits his, and it's the most real thing you've felt in a long time. It's as if the scent of ozone and electricity is in the apartment itself, crackling in your hair and filling your nose with the overpowering scent of the sweet summer rain. You can almost feel the water hit your skin, the way the wind whips at your hair, and it's so intoxicating that you almost miss the sharp inhale from the man beside you.

He's not looking at his plant when you look up, but instead at the window in front of the two of you. You glance at it, and for a fraction of a second, you can see yourself in the reflection. The glimpse has you jerking towards it before you can stop yourself, desperate to know if something has changed. You haven't seen your reflection since you died, not in the mirror or the window or the toaster, and maybe, just maybe, it means something's changed.

Your hand stops against the glass of the window as you reach forward. You can't feel the cool of it under your palm, but it's no less a barrier for you as it would be for Namjoon. Something in you breaks as you watch the raindrops race each other to the ground.

"Ah, I forgot the forecast called for rain today," he mutters, eyes focused on the lightning that streaks by. He doesn't react when your fist slams against the glass, nor when you let out the scream that's been building in you for however long it's been since you died. You're so close, not even a hair's breadth from feeling something new yet familiar for the first time in so long, and you can't. You're still stuck in these four walls, unable to even reach the air outside.

You just want to feel the rain again.

You move dejectedly away from the window, ignoring the way Namjoon shivers as you pass. The temperature in the apartment has dropped considerably, you think, between the storm and your own mood. You can't tell, really. You haven't felt warm or cold or hungry or anything since you died that isn't the oppressive loneliness of life after death.

A dry sob tears itself from your throat and you hurry to hide in the bathroom as Namjoon turns to look around him. He mumbles something you can't hear and after a few minutes, he returns to tending to his plants, leaving you to your tear-less cries in peace.

It becomes quickly apparent to you that Namjoon should really have a roommate, if only to save him from himself. It takes a few weeks for you to realize this, but luckily he seems to narrate his life as he goes through it - which is overwhelmingly adorable to you, and you refuse to acknowledge that - and that means that you hear it every time he goes, "Ah, Namjoon, be more careful next time," or "Oh, shoot, that's not, fuck, I gotta buy more eggs now." It's painful to watch, even for you, and at some point, you just couldn't take it anymore. No one else is around to help, but someone needs to you, and clearly the universe means for you to be that someone.

It's a full-time job, protecting him from himself. You've saved countless mugs, pushing them farther away from the edges of counters and tables, and been just in time to shove bowls or vases an inch over so that his elbows glide harmlessly past them. It's almost exhausting, if you could get tired you would, but it's worth it, you think, as you catch the bookshelf under the TV as it tilts. You slide it gently to the floor, glad that Namjoon is distracted by how close he came to losing a toe to notice.

Because that's the other thing about this tree of a man: he's the most oblivious person you've ever fucking seen. It doesn't matter what it is you do, whether it's bouncing his spray bottle of water so it doesn't break on the hard floor or shake the counters so that the knife he's about to drop on his fucking hand falls the other way, he doesn't see a single fucking thing. You'd think he was blind if he wasn't so attentive to the way his plants grow. He notices nothing and you're glad for it because you really aren't sure what he would do if he knew you were going around haunting him just to keep him alive. You just want to help, want to keep the soft smile he wears more often around for as long as possible.

You don't dare to look into why you want that, too afraid of what you might find there.

It's also just fun to watch him and his friends, relaxed and unreserved. You never had many friends when you were alive, just a small handful that you really truly loved and whom you miss every day. Watching these seven boys fills you with nostalgia and a strange sense of joy because they really are some of the funniest people you've ever been around.

Like now, with four of them sprawled on the couch while Jeongguk and Hoseok make themselves comfortable leaning against the bookshelf under the TV - which has been bolted to the wall since it almost broke Namjoon's foot - and Namjoon watches them all from his bed since it's the only other place to sit. There are beer bottles scattered around and decorating the half-wall that separates the bed from the room proper, everyone is varying levels of drunk, and you're curled up close to Namjoon, leaning against the wall so you can stop him from knocking over any of the bottles nearby because you know him too well at this point.

"I'm just saying, I don't understand why they made him so over-powered in the new movies, because he's supposed to be some kid from Brooklyn! Giving him the high-tech suit essentially strips him of the friendly neighborhood persona that he's always relied on!" Jeongguk has been ranting for a while about the newest release in the Spiderman franchise - apparently, he's part of the actual Avengers now, which is a shock to you since the last thing you heard before you died was that the franchise was canceled until further notice or something.

"And I'm saying that if they didn't give him the suit then it would've made no sense how he was able to do those things," Yoongi responds. You're pretty sure he's just arguing to be contrary at this point, because you remember him telling Namjoon the other day that he prefers DC over Marvel.

"Garfield's Spiderman could do those things," you mutter, "And he didn't have a fancy suit."

"Okay, then how do you explain Andrew Garfield's version being able to do that stuff? He doesn't need the suit, he never has!" You preen at the way Jeongguk echoes your thoughts. "I'm telling you, I don't care how good the relationship with Holland's Spidey and Iron Man is, by giving him the tech and the advancements they did, they've undermined everything that Spiderman is supposed to be about."

"Jeongguk come off it, everyone knows Garfield's Spidey was just all bad writing. I mean, what kind of person can do all that stuff, realistically? He's the one that really needed the Stark suit." Taehyung's voice is slurred and quiet, definitely as drunk as the rest of them. 

"What-! No! I could do half of that without being bitten by a weird science spider!" Jin scoffs at Jeongguk's words. 

"Yeah, sure, Guk. The same way you can do that bottlecap challenge."

"Bottle cap challenge, and yeah, I could!" The youngest stands and you don't bother to hide your grimace. 

"This isn't going to end well, is it?" You ask. No one acknowledges you, too busy finding something Jeongguk can kick the cap off of as the boy readies himself. He's steady on his feet but his face is red and he can't seem to stop giggling. 

"If I do this, you gotta call me SpiderGuk from now on, okay?" He says. No one agrees, but it doesn't stop him from laughing again and doing a couple of roundhouse kicks to warm up. 

"Okay, okay, Joonie doesn't have any regular water bottles, but we found a screw-top beer in the fridge so ya gotta use that," Jimin says as he stumbles over with said bottle. Jeongguk just nods, an adorable focused expression on his face. Jimin holds the bottle in the air, and you can already tell his grip isn't tight enough to keep the bottle still when Jeongguk kicks it. 

The next ten seconds happen in slow-motion. Jeongguk's leg flies out to kick but his drunken body isn't able to handle the sudden shift in balance, and he slips. His foot hits the bottle slightly too low, and it goes flying out of Jimin's weak grip into the air. Everyone in the room watches as it hurtles straight towards Namjoon's face, and you react out of habit and instinct, catching it in one hand before you even realize you've moved. 

Everyone freezes, staring at where the bottle hovers in front of Namjoon's face. You're the only one able to see your fingers wrapped around it. A shock jolts through you at the realization of what you've done and you drop the bottle as if it burned you. Fuck, they were all going to freak, then Namjoon would move out and you'd be stuck alone once more. You should've just shoved him out of the way, what were you thinking, you're so fucking stupid-

"Dude," Hoseok mutters from where he's perched on the arm of the couch. "Holy shit, Joon, you're fucking telepathic." 

Yoongi rolls his eyes and smacks his chest. "Telekinetic, you fucking-"

"Holy shit, you've got fucking superpowers!" Jeongguk squeaks. "Do it again!"

Namjoon isn't even able to get a word out before there's a book flying at his face, and you panic. You can't catch it, too rushed, but you manage to deflect it so it hits the bed with a soft thump instead of braining Namjoon straight in the nose. 

"Woah, you really do have superpowers," Jimin whispers. He lobs a bottlecap at Namjoon, and you catch it in your palm before letting it drop onto the half-wall. 

"I don't have...what the fuck you guys," Namjoon insists. His eyes are as wide as saucers behind the thick glasses he has on. He looks freaked out and you want nothing more than to hug him. Your hand reaches out of its own accord, halfway closing the distance to stroke his hair before you catch yourself. 

"Hey, levitate your plants," Jin demands. Namjoon looks panicked as he glances at the wall of plants, and you heave a sigh. With any luck, they're so drunk that they'll remember this as a strange fever dream, but you can't just let them keep throwing things at him. You crawl over to the wall, avoiding Namjoon as you do, and grasp one of the plants tight. It's a white pot with red polka dots, a simple RJ on the side, and it's fucking heavy. You only get it a few inches off the shelf before you're forced to put it down.

"Oh my god, catch this!" Taehyung throws a coffee mug straight at Namjoon's head and you panic again. You catch it, and you've decided you're fucking sick of them throwing things at him, so you lob it back and dart across the room to bounce it safely to the counter before it can break. 

Everyone in the room stares at the mug and then looks back at Namjoon, who hasn't moved from his spot on the bed. 

"Oh my god, you're a superhero," Jeongguk whispers, awe in his eyes. 

"That's fucked up," Yoongi mutters, wincing when Hoseok elbows him. 

"Maybe we should get some sleep," Namjoon says quietly. The others look like they want to disagree with him, and you have no doubt they want to explore the newfound 'abilities' of their friend, but they still start gathering trash together before they head out. 

Namjoon lays awake for a long time that night, glasses folded and sitting atop the half-wall beside you. He's oblivious to the way you watch him, too lost in thought to feel the weight of your stare or the chill in the air. 

"I don't understand," He says after a while. "I really don't, but there's got to be a reason for it." He doesn't elaborate, merely turns over and evens his breathing out until he starts snoring, but you watch him for most of the night. He's fascinating, this human, and you wonder what makes him so different from the others you've met. 

He apparently decides to experiment. You've known Namjoon is intelligent since he first moved in and you saw his collectible encyclopedias, but you hadn't realized just what it would be like in actuality. 

It starts simple. He'll toss something in the air and let it clatter to the ground. Nothing big, just little things like pencils or bottlecaps, and not far, just enough that his eyes narrow as he apparently tries to use his telekinetic abilities to manipulate them. 

It slowly graduates from there. Next comes the way he stares at something across the room, hyper-focused on whatever it is until you notice and move it around for him. It's a guessing game, sometimes, trying to figure out just what he wants to move or how he wants to move it, but each time you're successful, he smiles so brightly, dimples on full display. Who wouldn't want to make him smile like that?

It's hit or miss, sometimes. You're only so strong, and while you've had a lot of practice, you still get tired. You lifted his bookshelf almost a full inch before blacking out. Next thing you knew, a couple of days had passed and Namjoon was staring at a coffee mug. That was a significantly less fun day; between losing time and having to catch coffee mug after coffee mug, you were exhausted and a little shaken. 

So when he stops staring at things for extended periods of time, when he starts to go back to reading and scrolling the internet and bingeing all the completed shows that Netflix and Amazon had to offer, you're grateful for it. He still occasionally tests it out; he's always subtle about it, choosing to stare quietly until you notice and make whatever it is float around for a minute. Once you wandered around looking for him - a feat in a studio apartment - and found him just sitting on the bathroom floor, staring at a shampoo bottle.

You'd like to say that you don't move things entirely because he wants you to. It's a good test of your abilities and how far you can push yourself until it becomes too much, and it's always nice to have actual evidence that you still exist - in some form, at least - in the world. The validation that comes from seeing him smile every time you lift a pencil or slide a coffee mug to the side, it's not for any reason but the satisfaction of knowing that you have some kind of existence. Some kind of impact on the world, even if you can't be seen and can't leave the apartment.

It's part of why you start moving things around yourself more often; you're hoping he just blames it on his overactive 'abilities' if he notices because you really aren't sure what he would think otherwise. But you also know for a fact that just seeing that you have some kind of sway over the world still - over the things inside this tiny apartment - makes you feel just that bit better about being dead.

Which is why it's such a fucking shock when the door to the apartment slams open one evening just for Namjoon to slam it closed again and announce into the air, "So I know you're haunting me, please don't try to deny it, I only want to talk to you."

You freeze where you are, halfway through the closet door from where you were reorganizing his clothes because they made no sense and you were bored. He's looking around the apartment, almost desperate in the way he's searching, and you can't bring yourself to move. It's obvious he can't see you, and you aren't even sure if he's being serious, but the way he huffs and clenches his jaw before moving into the kitchen tells you that he probably is.

You follow him, curious, and watch as he pulls a small package out of his bag and starts ripping it open. You float the remains of what looks like gift wrap over to the trashcan, because you know Namjoon will forget, before going back to watching him. He's only a little careful as he cracks something in his hands and then slaps it onto the fridge, and you peek around him to see that it's some kind of words or something. There’s a wide variety, with no clear theme to them, as well as at least one of each letter of the alphabet. It's then you remember the throwaway comment Yoongi made during that night - "You need, like, poetry stuff, like those magnets that go on the fridge that people write that deep shit with, y'know? I'm gonna buy you one," - and realize that he'd followed through on his vow. 

"Alright," Namjoon says, leaning against his kitchen counter and staring at the magnets. "First and foremost, am I really being haunted or is this some kind of hallucination?" His gaze never falters, doesn’t ever drift from the magnetic words now spread across his fridge doors. It takes several minutes to build up the energy and the courage to move closer to the fridge.

You don't look at him as you move the words around, but you can hear the sharp intake of breath. That's likely all the confirmation that he needs, but still you clear a spot and let the words ' I am here ' sit where he can see them clearly. You wrinkle your nose, disliking how formal it sounds, but you have to make do, you suppose.

"Okay," Namjoon breathes. "Okay, prove it. My brain could work this into a hallucination. How do I know you're really a ghost?"

"Seriously?" You huff. "What the fuck am I supposed to do that wouldn't work into a hallucination, dude?"

He gets fidgety in the few minutes that you spend wondering how the fuck you're going to prove that you're a real actual ghost to someone who clearly doesn't believe in them. His foot taps at the floor and he scratches at his hand, which only makes you want to wrap your own hands around his until he stops, much like your best friend used to lay her legs across your lap to get you to stop shaking your knee.

The realization comes in a flash, and you're moving letters around before you can stop yourself.

Face book, Park Jihyo, best friend.

Namjoon stares at it for a long while before he brings his phone out of his pocket and begins to tap at the screen. You don't get too close; you've got a history with shorting out electronics, and you aren't sure you want to know what your best friend is up to without you there with her.

"Okay," Namjoon says. "Okay, I've never seen her before, so I don't think my brain could work her into a hallucination. Okay. Alright. I'm being haunted. This is fine."

"Calm down, I'm haunting the apartment, not you." He doesn't react to your words, as usual, but it still makes you feel the slightest bit better. He stares at his phone for a little longer, and the curiosity burns under your skin, but you resist. You know from experience that if you try to get too close, his phone will stop working. Just like TV, the stereo, the laptops, everything. You've had enough experience with that kind of thing to know what will happen.

"Okay, Casper," Namjoon huffs out after several minutes of waiting. He looks up and his eyes dart around the apartment, and you wonder if he's just nervous or if he's trying to spot you. "Where are you right now? Can you make yourself visible? I mean, I know you're a ghost, but it feels rude not talking to you to your face."

You huff a laugh but reach for a coffee cup. You know you can't just make yourself visible at will; you've only done it a couple of times, to your knowledge, and none of them have been on purpose. It's even more difficult to make yourself corporeal and physical, harder than just manipulating objects, but you did it once. Back when the single mom still lived here, when her toddler was falling and you had no way to cushion the fall except with your own body; you still aren't sure how it happened, but you remember being able to feel the floor against your back and the warmth of the baby on top of you for a split second before you were gone again. You won't forget that any time soon.

You float the mug towards where you stand, holding it in front of your face long enough that when you pull it away, Namjoon's eyes don't follow it. It's a strange feeling; you know he can't see you, can tell by the way his brow furrows and his eyes slide around the space, but it feels like he's looking straight at you. It feels like you're being seen for the first time since you died.

"So, where are you from, Casper?" His tone is forcibly conversational, as if he's trying his best to keep himself calm. You roll your eyes and move the magnets to show ' here ' and he nods. "You're not gonna try to possess me, or kill me, or run me off, are you? No offense or anything. I figure you would've already at this point, but...cover my bases."

No. Am nice. I think.

"You think? You don't know if you're a nice ghost?"

Does anyone truly know if they are nice? You frown, trying to figure out how to say what you want to say with the limited words available. I can only try. It's still not perfect; there's more that you want to say, more that you want to be heard, but this has to do for now.

"I can accept that. Alright. Just talking to a ghost in my kitchen. Okay. This is totally normal." He rubs a hand over his face, and you're a little impressed. Everyone else that's lived here has freaked when presented with the knowledge that you're a ghost. Namjoon looks very much like his world is exploding, but he doesn't have the same fear and apprehension in his eyes. He's certainly coping better than the single mom.

"Are you the only ghost? Here, I mean, are you the only ghost here?" He breathes a sigh of relief at your 'yes.’ "Can you see other ghosts? Do you know any other ghosts?" The 'don't know, no' that you move around on your fridge seems to unsettle him a little, but there's a curiosity burning behind it that makes your skin tingle.

Can't leave, is what you say next, cutting off whatever question he was about to ask.

"You can't leave at all? The building, or the apartment?"

The second.

"Wow. You're really stuck here?" He looks around the apartment as if seeing it for the first time and sucks in a breath. "What do you do all day?"

Watch. He cocks a brow. You are... You hesitate. The word you need isn't there, everything that comes to you is too poetic or corny for you to actually say, but the weight of his eyes is heavy on your hands. Fun is what you settle on, but it's not right either. 'Interesting' isn't there, nor is 'fascinating' or 'lovely,' and you don't want to scare him off by telling him that part of the reason you watch him so much is that he's so full of life that you feel less dead when he's around.

He laughs at your words though and shakes his head ever so slightly. "Alright, well, I'm gonna shower, so just, don't...watch that?" You squawk at the insinuation that you would, quickly rearranging the letters to spell ' privacy' and making a large angry face out of the rest of the words. He's already turned away, though, and it makes you angrier.

You don't want him thinking that you would peep at him. You already make sure that you're facing the windows when he finishes showering, you've been determined to not be creepy since the day he moved in, and to have him think otherwise is like a slap in the face. You slam the mug against the counter and he startles, turning to gape at it. You carry it to where your words and make-do emoji sit waiting for him to notice them.

"Okay," He says quickly. "Okay, privacy, yeah, got it. You respect my privacy. Appreciated."

"How fucking rude," You mutter as you set the mug back down. You don't adjust the magnets as he disappears into the bathroom. You want him to see them, want him to be reminded of the fact that being dead doesn't mean you don't have basic decency.

You can't get him to shut up now that he knows you're there. He still forgets sometimes, mostly when he's talking to his plants or narrating the way he carefully constructs some origami creation, but more often than not, he's talking to thin air. He spends a lot of time perched on his counter, watching you move magnets around his fridge through the thick lenses of his glasses before he spouts off some other question for you to answer. 

He covers the basics first: how old you were when you died, when your birthday is, your favorite color, what you were studying in school, and of course your name, though he insists on calling you Casper. You aren't sure why but you also don't get a chance to question it, because he hits you with more and more questions every day. Sometimes you don't answer because you can't, too limited by the poetry magnets to be able to really converse; sometimes you just don't have the energy to move the magnets around, but those are days are rare. The only times you use the tired magnet are when you find your limbs too heavy to move, weighed down with the memories of what it meant to be alive. 

Those are the bad days, but his questions make them just a little easier.

"How do you move around? Do you just float everywhere?" Walking, but different. No weight. Soft.

"How are you able to manipulate things in my world? Are they different from things in your world?" Focus. Takes time. Same.

"Do you sleep at all? Do ghosts dream?" No sleep. Just existing.

"You don't eat, do you? Should I be stocking up on snacks for you?" No. Save your sustenance. "What was the last thing you ate?" Don't remember. "Huh. I hope it was something good." Same.

"Were you ever in a relationship?" Once. A long time before. "Do you miss them?" Not anymore.

"What did you do while you were alive?" School. "Oh, really? Do you remember what you studied?" Boring. Important then, but it made me forget to live. Not important now. Namjoon goes quiet for a long moment after this one, staring out the window at something you can't see. He nods but doesn't ask any more questions, and he reads for the rest of the night.

It only takes a couple of weeks for both you and Namjoon to get tired of standing in his kitchen fucking around on the fridge. His legs get tired and he gets distracted by his thoughts, and you can barely keep up with the rapid-fire questions you get.

So Namjoon buys one of those cheap cookie sheets with the slightest lip at the edge and dumps the magnets on that. He leaves it on the coffee table, usually, there for you to pick up if he asks something but out of the way for when he stretches out to nap lazily in the afternoon sun.

You like the cookie sheet more than the fridge. He watches you as you work out your responses, can see the way you start to move one word before moving another instead; it makes it feel more like a conversation.

It becomes a favorite pass-time of Namjoon's, curling on the couch and putting some sort of music on in the background and just talking to you. A lot of nights his questions stop with a lingering silence from one or both of you; yours because you don't have the ability to share the words running rampant through your mind, and his for reasons still unknown to you. Still, you've missed it. You've missed talking to someone, being heard when you speak, having someone ask how you are at the end of the day.

It's the little things.

"You said you can't leave, right, Casper?" Namjoon's curled up on his couch, tucked into the arm with a blanket thrown over his lap, a mug of something warm in his hands to combat the chill of the season, and some R&B track playing lightly from his phone. You knock your fist against the cookie once - a sign for yes that you'd both agreed on. "So, are you just always here then? You don't go anywhere else?"

"Fuck, how do I explain this?" You mutter. You stare at the magnets in front of you for a long time before rearranging them. Not always. Tired sometimes, disappear.

"Disappear?" He reads. "What do you mean? You just, what, stop existing?"

Don't know, you respond. Only happens when tired. When used too much of me. He hums an acknowledgment, eyes focused on where the cookie sheet sits on the couch between you. You? What entertains you?

"Everything," he answers without hesitation. "I'm trying to work through my stack of books I want to read and finish all the shows I'm interested in, but the guys would have my head if I didn't get out and do things like a normal person."

That's where you leave to?

"Yeah." He sets his mug - now empty - on the coffee table and settles into the blankets. He looks cozy and soft and you would wrap yourself up with him if you could. "I take a lot of walks, and bike rides. I like to see the river, the trees, all the animals that live there. The beach is always fun, I get to see all the crabs and whatnot that wander in and out of the ocean."

"I wish I could go with you," you whisper.

Fun is what you spell on your sheet.

"I guess," he mutters. "It's enjoyable, at least. I'll bring you some souvenirs, or pictures next time."

You let the sheet settle on the couch as he turns the TV on, setting up a drama that he's on recently. He doesn't say anything else for a few hours, waits until the sound of rain hits the windows and stifles the apartment in an otherworldly haze.

"How long have you been dead?" His voice lingers in the air. You've been expecting these questions, and you're honestly impressed he's held them back for as long as he has. That angsty teen hadn't hesitated a single second to start asking you questions.

A while. Years. I think .

"Do you ever get tired of being a ghost?" There's something in his voice that you can't place, something that tells you this is more than just his usual morbid curiosity. Every part of your soul - whatever's left of it, anyway - is screaming at you to lie to him, to tell him that no, being a ghost is great. You've never wished he could hear you more than this moment, when all you want to is wrap your arms around him and ask him why he looks so much older than he is.

Sometimes, you tell him. It is lonely here, and boring. Fun to be unseen, but unable to do much more.

He nods like that makes all the sense in the world to him, and he brings the blanket up around his shoulders. "Do you ever miss your friends, or your family?"

Would you not? He huffs out an unamused chuckle, nodding again.

"Yeah," He says softly. "Yeah, I would. Do you want me to help you check on them? See what they're up to?" The single knock that echoes in the room is deafening to you, filled with a hope that you haven't felt in years. You've never let yourself think about them for long; if you did, you don't think you'd be able to come back from whatever that place is that you disappear to when things become Too Much.

Namjoon pulls his phone closer and starts fiddling with it. He doesn't hesitate when he types in your name, and you feel an emotional blush fill you when you see that he doesn't even have to finish typing for your profile to pop up. You glance at him, the way his brows are furrowed behind his glasses and his tongue pokes into his cheek just a little while he concentrates, and you wonder how many times he's looked at the pictures of you when you were alive. How many times has he scrolled through, reading the words people shared after you were gone, scrolling through the grief and loss to get to the words you posted yourself, the little snippets of your daily life that you would give anything to be able to relive?

"Do I still look like that?" You wonder aloud. As expected, he doesn't react, just continues tapping at his phone.

You two spend the rest of the night like that, each curled at opposite ends of the couch while Namjoon slowly looks up your friends and family and updates you on each of them. Jihyo got married, to someone she'd gone on a date with a few weeks before you passed, and she's apparently trying to start having kids; Your mother and father aren't very active, but they never were. They both share pictures of you when you were a baby each year on your birthday, and more recent photos of you on the anniversary. They have a dog now. It's cute. You wonder if it helps them cope with the loss.

Your other friends are doing well, too; most of them are still figuring out their lives, but it seems like all of them are settling in their skin and finding comfort in who they are. They're out there, navigating the world and doing things they enjoy, meeting new friends and making new memories.

You stand by the window for a long time, cookie sheet of magnetized words pressed against your chest as if you can feel the cool of the metal against your skin, and watch rain drip down the panes as you imagine what your life could have been.

You can always hear Namjoon before you see him. He whistles as he walks down the sidewalk, his small way of letting you know he's on his way back from wherever he's gone that day, and today isn't an exception. Relief sags through you and you move away from the windows, let your fingers trail against the ceramic of the newest succulent he'd bought, and head towards the kitchen. The kettle is turned on and heating a few moments later while you pull a mug down from your cabinet and set it carefully on the counter where Namjoon will see it.

It's a regular routine, for the two of you. He heads out, usually in the early morning after turning on some music or a show for you, and when he comes back, you make sure there's hot water for his tea or cocoa or whatever he feels like drinking that day. The sound of his whistling gets louder the closer he gets, a simple way to let you know he's safe and he's home. You glance through the cabinets and quickly make a note on the fridge that he needs to buy more of his special tea blend soon.

The lock turns and you smile, waiting patiently as Namjoon saunters into the apartment. He sets something down on the kitchen counter just as the kettle starts to scream, and you wait while he pours the water and gets it ready.

"The cherry blossoms bloomed," He says. You grin. "They look great. I got some really nice pictures while I was there, I'll show you tonight. I was thinking we could try to finish Voltron tonight if you want. We'll have to go back an episode though, I think I fell asleep during the last one." You knock once against the counter beside you, and he turns with a wide grin to glance at the spot where you stand.

It's ridiculous for your heart to speed up in your chest, for the hair on the back of your neck to rise, for breath to catch in your throat; you don't have a heartbeat, you don't have breath, you're a shadow of the person you used to be, and yet...

And yet, seeing his dimpled smile focused so naturally on where you are, as if it's just second-nature, is like a breath of fresh air after years underwater. It smells like flowers, like dirt and earth and a new beginning. It feels like you're alive again, and you don't want it to end, but too soon he's turning away to finish steeping the tea. Something lingers in the air for a moment after but it's gone too soon for you to place it.

You both settle on the couch, Namjoon tucking whatever he brought home with him under his arm, between his body and the arm of his ratty old couch. Your cookie sheet is in its place on the coffee table, unneeded at the moment. You can't help the glare that you give it; the things you would give to be able to just speak and be heard are endless.

It rattles a little and you look away.

Namjoon is quiet as the show plays. He doesn't react when you move to turn the oven on, but he does laugh quietly and thank you for it when he goes to put his dinner in. He eats and you don't bother him, though the way he keeps his little package hidden away makes curiosity burn through you. Eventually, once he's eaten and washed his dishes and laughed at the way you rubbed them dry before setting them carefully in their places, he settles back into his blankets and turns on the music he loves so much.

He's got a book balanced in his hands and your cookie sheet rests on the coffee table, and you both just sit like that for a long while, enjoying existing.

"You remember your life, right Casper?" You thump lazily against the wall in response, eyes drawn from where you watch the gloomy sky slowly get lighter with the dawn. He isn't looking at his book anymore; he probably hasn't been for a while, based on the way the pages have migrated around his thumb, too busy staring at the wall across from him. "Do you remember your death?"

You hesitate. You've tiptoed around the subject before. He's always been too afraid to ask directly, and it's too painful for you to offer it freely. You thump against the wall once more, and he nods like he already knew the answer.

"Are they very different?" His glasses are falling down his nose and your fingers itch to push them up. Instead, you reach for your cookie sheet. He makes a sound in the back of his throat when he sees it moving, reaching under him for his package. "I forgot, I got you this. Thought it might be easier."

He sets it down and you slide the contents out of the wrapping easily. Inside is a small dry-erase board, complete with markers and eraser, small things that should be easy for you to manipulate. You beam at him; he can't see it, but you think he might be able to feel it because he perks up and smiles a little.

"You don't have to answer," He adds. "I was just curious to know if being dead is really as different as everyone makes it out to be." You nod and thump once against the board before you uncap a marker and start writing.

It's a bizarre feeling, after so long. The muscles in your hand don't ache, no matter how much you write, and you can't feel the smooth surface of the board under your fingers or the weight of the marker in your palm, but it glides against it cleanly and leaves a thick black streak behind.

It takes you a minute to write everything out, get it worded how you want. Namjoon doesn't interrupt you, just watches the marker move against the board and smiles every time you go to erase something that isn't right. Eventually you show it to him.

There are similarities. I'm still me, I still enjoy TV and music and books. Things are duller now, like there's a filter over them, and it's harder to do things. Like when you're in water, or mud, like that. Resistance.

"Oh," Namjoon replies, "That's not what I expected. It makes sense though I guess." His hand moves against his chest, rubbing lightly as he looks over your words again. "Is there anything you actually like about being a ghost?"

"Well, being invisible is pretty cool," You say, writing the words as you do. "And it's actually really fun being able to walk through walls and stuff, even if I can't go anywhere outside of the apartment."

"I'm sorry you're stuck here," Namjoon says. You startle a little, looking up at him. You think he actually heard you for a split second, but his eyes are locked on where you're writing your words out on the dry erase board.

"Yeah, me too," You tell him. He stares at the board for a long moment, chewing nervously on his bottom lip as he does. "Ask what you want to ask, Joon," You write as you say it.

"How did you die?" He blurts. You sigh and he jumps a little, looking fully at where you sit. You're shocked; you know that sometimes little noises cross over, like when Jin heard you laughing, but it's still rare. You can't figure out how it works, but you want to.

You write for a long time, letters small so they fit on the board. The whole thing is crowded together, looks like one long string of letters instead of the story it is.

There's a lot of violence in this neighborhood. You probably know that by now. People are always getting robbed or mugged or something around here. Someone tried to break into my apartment by banging the door down. It didn't work, luckily, but I got really paranoid afterwards. One night I was cooking, and someone's door slammed really hard. I spilled the water I was boiling, slipped. Blacked out after a while, and when I came to, there were police everywhere. I guess I hit my head harder than I thought, because they carted me away, and I couldn’t follow.

"I'm sorry," Namjoon says softly. "You deserved more time."

Yeah. The universe had a different plan, I guess. He smiles at that, and it settles the anxiety thrumming under your skin. Wouldn't have met you, so I guess that's a bonus. He rolls his eyes at you but he laughs softly, so you consider it a win. You doodle on the board then, simple little designs that don't mean anything beyond being able to see your effect on the world.

Namjoon sucks in a breath beside you and you look up at him. He's always been good about looking towards where you are, doing his best to make eye contact with someone he can't see, but he still always tends to look through you.

Not this time.

This time, electricity sings through the air as your eyes meet his. You don't know how, but you know he can see you. His eyes roam over you, taking in the crumpled sweater you were wearing with the stain you like to think is pasta sauce on the arm, the hair you can't ever really tame, the way you sit cross-legged on his old thread-bare couch with a dry erase board in your hands.

Neither of you moves. He looks torn between fear and amazement, every emotion in between flitting quickly over his features, and you're terrified that if you move, whatever spell that's been cast will fade. It had been so long since you talked to anyone when Namjoon slammed those magnets on the fridge, and the conversation has been a reprieve, but to be seen for the first time in years...

It's invigorating.

Watching Namjoon just look at you is something you won't ever forget, not for as long as you exist in the world. He looks at you like he's memorizing every detail, every hair and wrinkle and pore, and just knowing that he can see you fills you with something new.

"Namjoon...?" You call hesitantly. His eyes fall on your lips.

"Again," He says. Your brows must furrow, maybe you frown, you don't know because it's been so long since you've needed to pay attention to your facial expressions, but he notices your confusion. "Will you say something again?"

Breath you don't have catches in your throat, wraps itself around a heart that doesn't beat, but you smile a little. "I'm glad I met you."

Namjoon smiles. It's big and blinding and knocks everything out of you except for that emotion that's been sitting in your chest since the first time you watched him talk to his plants. You lean forward, and you can tell the exact moment you disappear, because his smile falls and his eyes unfocus. A whimper leaves your throat, but he doesn't react, and that may be the most painful thing that's ever happened to you.

"Can I feel you?" His voice is hushed but the words reverberate in your head. His eyes dart around, looking for any glimpse of you, and your hand trembles as you reach out.

Goosebumps raise on his cheek where your hand touches him and his breath stops for a moment, but he smiles again and leans into the chill. You bring your other hand up to cup his other cheek, your dry erase board lying forgotten on the ground, and Namjoon's eyes flutter closed.

"I think I might love you," You say quietly just before you press your lips to his. He doesn't react to your words, but he lets out a soft sigh at your kiss. Thunder cracks through the apartment, a torrent of rain unleashed on the windows, but you don't move.

The two of you sit like that for hours, until he starts shivering and his nose turns red, like it does when he forgets his scarf on the cold days, and his breath puffs in the air. When you finally pull away from him, he smiles, and the blush on his cheeks has nothing to do with the cold air that makes up your form.

"Yeah," He says softly, voice nearly drowned out by the storm raging outside. "Yeah, I can feel you."

If you expected things to change much after that, you were wrong. At least a little. Namjoon still disappears to go on his walks, you still start the kettle the second his whistles drift up to the apartment. He still asks you a million questions, but they're more normal now. Your favorite music, color, what you wished you'd done with your life, if you've been able to corporealize again recently, what you wanted to watch that night.

"Come on, Casper," Namjoon groans. "I promise you can do it." You huff and he smiles, clearly having heard it. You're tempted to just disappear somewhere, rattle some pipes in the bathroom or the kitchen so he thinks you're in there and leaves you alone, but he smiles at you again and you're weak for that dimple.

You grip the watering can again, doing your best to lift it and manipulate it the way you need to. It's heavy, and something about the metal makes your skin itch, but the more you struggle the more you're able to pour the slightest bit of water where RJ - a giant plant that you don't even know the name of - sits in the corner of the room across from Namjoon's bed. It's the twentieth-something time you've tried this today, and you're ten seconds from just giving up completely, but you can tell this is important to Namjoon.

He's been talking all week, between the late nights where you lay over his blanket-wrapped form and the mornings where he ducks out with a soft goodbye. He's told you everything about his plants that you think he possibly could, teaching you about them and showing you how to care for them. It's interesting, you won't lie, and it's always fun to see him light up when you recall something he's told you, but you're exhausted and every part of you is shaky, and you're more than a little worried of what might happen if you push too far again.

Still, Joon hasn't looked great lately, like he might be getting the flu, and you want to be able to help him with all the things he does in the house. You've already started doing the dishes and folding laundry, since those were the two things he was the absolute worst at, but you feel like you should be doing more.

"Good job, baby, I'm proud of you!" You grunt and let the watering can fall back to the ground with a loud thump that almost definitely has the downstairs neighbors cursing Namjoon's name. "See, and now we're done for the day! C'mon, we can put on Sens8 and cuddle."

He's on the couch before you can stop him, wrapping himself in blankets except for one lone hand that sticks out, expectant. You roll your eyes and sit beside him, close enough that if you had a body you would be cuddling instead of just sitting awkwardly beside him.

You know that this is just going to make your hand all pink and gross, right?

He just smiles when the board flips around to reveal itself and wiggles his fingers. "It's worth it," He says. "I'd rather be pink and gross than never get to hold your hand at all."

You can't even feel my hand, Joon, there's literally no point to this. He huffs and wraps his hand around the marker in your hand, shivering at the chill that runs through him when he does. He grins and gestures down to where the tips of his fingers are already turning red.

"Clearly I can feel it, Casper."

You're glad he can't see you, that you don't have a heart that beats or blood that runs, because if you did, your face would no doubt be red. You have no doubts that Namjoon would tease you about it.

He's quiet as you both watch the show; he makes the odd comment here or there, but his mood seems to have calmed some. When he first got back from whatever place he visited that day, he'd been anxious and jumpy and entirely too on edge.

"Hey, Casper?" He asks quietly. You slide a hand against his cheek to let him know you're there, and he leans into the chill again. "What do you think about me?"

You don't move for several seconds, hand still poised around his cheek.

"Like, your feelings. What are they? Will you tell me?" You knock once on the wall behind the couch. Your hand stays poised over your board for long enough that Namjoon starts to get a little restless. Words refuse to come to you. Every time you start to think you have a way to describe to him what he means to you, they disappear as quick as fog on a summer's afternoon. Frustrated, you let the board fall to the couch and scrawl a quick 'hold on' so he knows you aren't just ignoring him.

It's been weeks since you've seen what you're looking for, your cookie sheet with the word magnets having been basically forgotten in lieu of the more personal and convenient dry-erase board, but right now you know that if words won't come to you, you'll have to go to them.

You finally find it, shoved under several encyclopedias and magazines, and the noise you make is so triumphant that even Namjoon hears it. You curl back up beside him, careful to make sure the blanket is wrapped tight around him, and make sure he can see the words as you move them. It still takes a long time, constantly changing and rearranging and stacking to make sure it conveys the things you need it to convey.

You are like music. A symphony of summer days and peach skies with soft rain. You are a storm in the moonlight. I'm not lonely when I have you pouring around me. You make me feel alive again.

Namjoon is silent for a long time, and you wonder if you've gone too far. It's more poetic than you'd like, too frilly and fancy and emotional than you usually are, but they're the only words you have.

After too long, he exhales. It's heavy and deep and it feels like he's trying to expel more than just air from his body.

"You make me feel alive, too," is all he says, whispered into the softness of his blanket in a voice too small for his long limbs. He shivers, and you hear him choke down a cough, and then he disappears into the bathroom for a long time. When he comes back out, he doesn't say anything, just slides into the mass of blankets on his bed and lays his arm out across the mattress. You spread out across from him, watching the rise and fall of his chest as he looks through you and out the window where the rain is letting up.

"Looks like the rainy season is gonna last longer than everyone thought." You slide your hands around one of his large ones and just hold them like that. His eyes sink closed and something like relief stands on his face for a moment before it's gone, swept away by the peace of sleep.

You wonder what it is that he sees when he looks out the window. If it's the plain brick wall and windows of the building next door, or something more.

You aren't sure you want to know.

Namjoon's flu only seems to get worse. He leaves early in the mornings, as if he thinks you might not notice the way he coughs into his scarf just because the sun hasn't risen fully yet. He stays gone most of the days, and even when he apologizes quietly during the twilight when he slinks back in to the sound of the kettle screeching on the stove and his tea already waiting to be steeped, he still doesn't stop.

You've taken to playing blues while he's gone, mostly the old school stuff, digging out the vintage record player he has buried in the closet and setting it up on the coffee table. It’s the only technology you can use without shorting it out. You don’t know why, but it makes you grateful the record collection Namjoon keeps tucked away inside the coffee table that you’ve learned is in fact an actual steamer trunk that he salvaged and restored himself.

The music fills the apartment, distracts you from the oppressive weight of his absence. He knows you wait at the window for him, you told him that back when the two of you were first getting to know each other.

You're so fragile, you had told him. He had laughed at you, quiet and fond, and waited for you to explain further. You're so full of life and breath and possibility, and the world is so big and so dangerous. I'm scared you won't come back.

"Of course I'm going to come back," he told you. You didn't even need to tell him that you're afraid of what being alone might do to you, now that you're so used to his presence. You're being heard again, sometimes even seen, and you don't know if you can go back to the stagnant depression of solitude. "I'll always come back to you."

That was the first time you thought you might love Namjoon. The feeling has only gotten stronger, and now that you wait at the window with your eyes focused on that tiny section of sidewalk you can see at the end of the alley, it threatens to consume you whole.

You wait at the window for hours. You know because you glance at the clock every minute and a half, mocking you with every tick as it hangs limply on the bathroom door. The sun sinks below the horizon, the moon rises to take its place, and they switch again while you wait. The dawn paints the sky in beautiful shades of pink and red and orange and the faintest purple, but you can't appreciate any of it, because you're too anxious.

He could be hurt. He could be gone, and you wouldn't ever know until his friends came to pack his things. He could have left, too; maybe he finally decided that living with a ghost was just too much for him and just ran. Maybe he figured out that you love him, that you would move heaven and earth if it meant he was safe forever if only you could leave this apartment, and it was too much for him.

What if he knows about how you lay beside him every night? How you tuck the blankets tighter around him, cover him in warmth and comfort before settling on top of them and closing your eyes and pretending that you can feel his arm draped over your waist and his breath on the back of your neck. What if he felt you, that night you wandered into the bathroom while he was showering to write on the steam-covered mirror that he needs to buy more eggs soon and got distracted by the way he looked stepping out of the shower? What if he knows your stomach flipped at the long limbs and the hidden muscles and the sheer size of him? What if he knows the real reason you were quiet that night, the way you kept replaying the moment in your mind and wishing you had a body so you could have just touched him, at least.

It's closer to noon than midnight when his whistle echoes up through the window.

"Hey, I'm home," He calls as he enters the empty apartment. You're upset, but you're more filled with relief than anything because at least he's safe and he's here now. He makes a beeline for where the kettle is just starting to whistle, already reaching for the honey and the tea you set out on the counter for him, and you do your best to calm the storm of emotions inside you.

Did you have fun, wherever you were? You ask him, floating the whiteboard in front of his face so he has to acknowledge it.

"Yeah, I did," he responds as he stirs his tea. "Jin invited everyone over for some end of summer thing. I didn't feel too great at the end of it, so I just spent the night there."

Don't party too hard, you might remember how to have fun, you joke. It falls a little flat based on the grim smile Namjoon gives you. Are they gonna come over here again anytime soon? I've missed scaring Hoseok.

He lets out a real laugh at that. "I don't know, maybe. My birthday's coming up, after Jeongguk's, so they could definitely be planning something. I'm heading over to Yoongi's later to help plan for Guk's party. I might stay there tonight, so try not to worry, Casper."

I'll try, you tell him. You both know you'll stand at the window every second he's gone, but you don't want to tell him why. You don't want to tell him that you love him through a dry erase board, or some fancy poetry magnets. It doesn't matter that you may as well have already said so by telling him that he makes you feel alive again; you haven't said the words to him, he hasn't seen 'I love you' in the messy scrawl that is your handwriting on some stupid board, and therefore he doesn't know.

You don't know if you want him to.

He stays gone that night, as he said he might, and reappears the next day to shower and change before he vanishes again. The next time he shows up, he takes a bag with him when he leaves, which only worsens your fears. He stays gone for three days this time, doesn't apologize when he turns up again and just mumbles a soft hello into the air before he makes tea and sags into his couch. He's asleep in seconds, and as much as you want to scream at him, you can't bring yourself to disrupt how peaceful he looks.

When he wakes, he takes a shower and ignores the ' can we talk ' you scrawled in the steam. He packs a bag of fresh clothes and doesn't say goodbye when he leaves, just disappears and leaves you standing at the window with the pail in your hand, caring for the plants he isn't. The slam of the door sounds like nails in a coffin and breaks what little was left of your soul.

He shows back up nearly a week later, and the relief at seeing him again is overridden by the sheer anger at being left in the first place. You don't start the kettle when you hear his whistle, the quiet and hoarse tune of a familiar song barely reaching the window, but there's plenty of noise when he enters.

The cabinet doors are quaking with your fury, the lights flicker and threaten to burst, and Namjoon just leans back against the door. He’s soaked from the storm thundering outside, even his jacket plastered to his skin, and he’s shivering slightly, but you can’t see anything past the rage.

"Where the fuck were you?" You demand; there's no point, it's not like he can hear you, but the way he sighs makes you feel like he can, so you continue anyway. "It's been almost a week, you didn't even think to stop by for ten seconds so I know you're okay? I thought you were dead somewhere, you could've been, like, shot, or something, I don't know, just bleeding out in some ditch, and I wouldn't know! And what about all the plants? I know how to take care of them, sure, but do you know how hard it is for me to do it?"

Namjoon sighs again, the breath catching in his throat and coming out in a cough, but you don't pay much attention to it.

"Why would you act like this, Namjoon? What did I do, is it because of the things I said? Do you not want me to feel like this about you? Because this a damn good way of making sure I don't, I assure you, so by all means, just keep disappearing and leave me alone with the plants you decided to rescue and save!"

His cough gets worse and he just shakes his head, covering his mouth and making his way towards the bathroom.

"If you want me to hate you, it's too fucking late, Joon!" The slam of the bathroom door punctuates your sentence, and you quiet at the sound of continued coughing. You knew his flu was getting worse, but it's never sounded like that. Even when you were alive, you knew that the wet sound that's muffled by the bathroom door isn't what a cough should sound like. The lock of the door clicks, and it shocks you into movement because he's never - never - locked you out of anywhere. He knows it wouldn't stop you, knows it as well as you know that you'd respect that boundary if he set it, and yet here he is, locking you out even as he coughs up what sounds like a lung in the other room.

You hesitate at the door, torn between respecting his boundaries and knowing what’s happening. You want him to trust you, always, and yet you find your hand disappearing through the door before you can stop it. You stand like that for a long moment, just listening to the sounds of his wracking coughs; the sound of a crash echoes through the apartment, though, and you’re through the door completely in the span of a heartbeat. 

Nearly everything that had been on the counter is scattered on the ground, Namjoon himself gripping the sides of the toilet as if he would fall apart otherwise. A single glance tells you that the crash happened as he turned from the sink to the toilet, and if his jolting shoulders didn’t tell you why, the sounds of his retching would. That isn’t what fills you with dread though; the disorientation, the vomiting, all of it comes with being sick sometimes, but the red staining the bathroom sink? 

That’s not normal, and you know with every part of you that it’s the reason he’s been gone so much. 

The temperature in the apartment drops with the sun, but your arms surround Namjoon as best they can. Goosebumps break out on his arms, shivers run down his back, but you don’t move away from him; he doesn’t say anything, just sits there with his forehead pressed against the cool of the porcelain. He stands eventually, ignores the way he passes completely through your body to rinse the sink and brush his teeth. 

You let him stay quiet until you’re both on his bed; you’re pressed up against his side and running your hands along his forearms, idly wondering if you would be able to feel his heartbeat if you were alive. 

“It’s not...it’s not gonna get better,” He says eventually. “There’s not a cure, just some things to draw it out and give me a little bit longer even if they come with more pain. I go once a week to see if it’s gotten worse, check how much longer I have. It’s why Hobi let me move in here rent-free. He pays the bills, says it’s the least he can do. I wanted to be closer to him anyway, so that’s a bonus, I guess.”

“I’m so sorry, Joon,” you whisper. Your board lies forgotten, somewhere on the couch maybe, you aren’t sure and can’t be bothered to pull yourself away from him long enough to find it. You don’t need it right now, though; he knows what you mean by the way the cold presses against his bicep with your palm. 

“I didn’t want you to know.” You’re not exactly surprised at that; you’d figured as much. You just don’t understand his reasoning. “I didn’t want you worrying about me, or anything like that, like the guys do. They always look at me and it’s all they can see. Like they’re already mourning me, even though I’m still here. I didn’t want to feel like that with you.” 

“I know,” you say. You don’t, not really. Your own death was sudden, a shock to everyone you knew; you didn’t get the luxury of saying goodbye, didn’t have the burden of knowing you would be gone soon. 

The two of you sit in silence for a while, until you can feel Namjoon’s chest quivering under your palm. When you look up, he looks at you, really and truly at you , and he has tears in his eyes. 

“I don’t want to die, Casper,” He whispers. You suck in a breath because he can see you, and you don’t even know why, but you don’t want to lose this moment. “I don’t want to leave all of this behind. I don’t want to leave you.” 

“It’ll be okay,” you say softly. His brow furrows and a tear slides down his cheek. “I promise you it will be okay, Namjoon. It gets easier, and people remember but they aren’t stuck forever. And I…” You falter, and it takes his eyes meeting yours to make you realize he can hear you. And there’s only one thing you’ve ever needed him to hear. 

“I love you,” You tell him. “I love you, and I will never forget you.” 

He surges forward, lips meeting yours in a rush of air. You moan at the feeling of him against you, realizing that for the first time since you died, you can feel something under your fingers. His skin is warm against your fingers, his lips soft against your own, and when he reaches up to cup your jaw with his hand, he doesn’t pass through your form. Instead his hand settles heavy against you, and he moves your head to lick into your mouth. 

Tears that won’t fall prickle at the back of your eyes and you climb into his lap before he can stop you. He’s still crying so you wipe away the tears before they can fall, pressing soft kisses to his cheeks, his dimples, his nose, every bit you can reach. A question sits at the back of your mind, and you can see it lingering in his eyes, but neither of you asks it.

“You’re so cold.” His whisper is nearly lost amidst the thunder that shakes the apartment, but it makes you smile a little. 

“Warm me up?” 

His chest is still quivering with unspoken sobs, but he nods. “Always,” he tells you. “I’m always going to be here.” It doesn’t take long to pry him out of his clothes, takes even less time for him to sink into you. It feels just like it did when you were alive, only magnified; you can feel him hot and warm inside you, can feel the beat of his heart in the firm muscle under your hands. His moans are quiet and hoarse but you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

He keeps one hand on your waist and the other on your neck, holding you close enough that he can kiss whenever he wants. “You’re beautiful,” He whispers. “The most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.” You just press another kiss to his chapped lips and let him dig his fingers in hard enough that it would bruise if it could. When he’s close to his peak, he stops thrusting, just sits inside you as he grinds your hips down to his, and presses his forehead against yours. 

“I love you,” He tells you, lightning casting his shadow across the wall for a brief moment. “I love you, I do, I wish-”

“I know,” you tell him before he can continue. “I know, Namjoon, I know, and I do, too. I love you, too.” He comes a few seconds later, the warm seed soaking into his sheets because it has nowhere to go. His warmth disappears from under your hands and his arms fall to his lap when the only thing holding them up is gone. All you can hear is your quiet sobs mixed with his and the rain against the window, and for the first time since you came back, you really, truly, wish you had died. There’s no point in being a ghost when you can still feel your heart breaking in your chest. 

“Casper, are you ever scared?” 

It’s the middle of the afternoon. Namjoon is sprawled across the couch wrapped in blankets while Lucifer plays in the background and you doodle aimlessly on your board. You don’t need it as often now; you’ve gotten better at focusing your energy into being heard, though being corporeal still eludes you. You don’t know how you did it that night, but you’re grateful for it. 

“Of what?” You ask, looking towards him. He’s not looking at you or watching the show, just staring at the ceiling. He focuses at your words, lifts himself up into a sitting position. A shiver runs through him when his legs move through you, and you settle a weightless hand against his knee out of habit. 

“I don’t know,” He replies. “Just...whatever comes next. If there’s something that comes next. Being forgotten. Being stuck here forever.” 

You aren’t stupid; you know why he’s asking. The question lingers in the air, colors all of your conversations now, but the truth is that neither of you has the strength to ask it and neither of you knows the answer. 

“Sometimes,” You tell him. “Sometimes I wonder what Jihyo is doing, if she ever had a baby like she wanted to. I wonder if my parents are still alive, and what they say if they visit my grave, what they tell me now that I can’t respond to them.” 

Namjoon nods like he’s already thought of that, and he probably has. 

“Most of the time I try not to focus on it, though. It’s not helpful, it only upsets me, and I don’t…” You trail off, unsure of how to word your thoughts. “I don’t know what might happen if I only focus on the negative. I don’t know anything about what’s true about ghosts and what isn’t beyond that I exist now, and I can’t risk becoming something bad. So I try not to focus on it. It’s easier when you’re here.”

He grins and blows a kiss in your general direction, and you pretend not to notice the blood on his cracked lips. He’s quiet for the rest of the episode of half of another. 

“Have you ever seen a light?” 

“What?” He doesn’t seem to hear you, and you repeat your question on your board for him. 

“A light,” He echoes. “Like, the light.Y’know, the light at the end of the tunnel, ‘don’t go into the light,’ that thing.” 

You hesitate at that. You knew what he meant, what he actually wants to know here. He’s easier to read now than he was in the beginning. 

You watch him as he watches the space where you sit, curled up beside him on his couch. He can’t see you, of course, but he can see where the board rests in your hands. His gaze is heavier than it was when he first moved in; his cheeks are hollower, skin more gaunt with a grey tint that’s only made worse by the constant rain. The sun is just starting to break through the clouds, a brief reprieve after weeks of the dreary stone-colored clouds. It casts shadows along the walls, reflects off something in the window across the alley, and backlights Namjoon beautifully, casts a halo of light around the brittle brown hair you love. 

Once, you tell him. Just once.

“Why didn’t you go to it?” 

There are so many things you could tell him, so many different ways to answer such a simple question, but you find yourself lingering on the one thing you know is the ultimate truth. 

Because I love you.

September comes with even more rain and a bittersweet atmosphere. Jeongguk spends his birthday at Namjoon’s apartment and then comes back a little over a week later, surrounded by the other guys and carrying enough food to last a few months. You stay curled on the bed, one of the only safe places for you to not mess with anyone or anything. Your board is tucked into the blankets, ready to be used but hidden from view just in case. You watch as Namjoon sits on the couch, tucked between Taehyung and Yoongi with both of them leaning into him as much as possible, Yoongi’s hands wrapped in one of his and Tae’s head on his shoulder. 

The other’s aren’t far, leaning against the back of the couch and on beanbags they’d brought with them, all laughing as Hoseok does his best to act out whatever he’d been given in charades. He’s not bad at it - you’ve guessed the last few he’s done - but he is utterly ridiculous in his mannerisms. You know why; it’s the same reason everyone kept smiling when Namjoon refused all of the food he was offered, why Seokjin would crack a terrible joke whenever it got too quiet for too long, why everyone is resolutely ignoring the growing pile of tissues on the table. 

It keeps a smile on Namjoon’s face, though, and a laugh in his eyes, and you can’t ever be anything but grateful for that. 

Hoseok stumbles, nearly falling and whirling his arms to catch himself before eventually falling anyway. You laugh along with the others, grinning at the way Hobi pouts and rubs at his hip. You’re focused on the way Joon laughs, the way it lights up his face and brightens the entire room, which is why you see it first. 

The tickle at the back of his throat quickly becomes a cough, wet and wheezing and enough to make him throw the blankets from his lap and stumble to the bathroom. 

You’re there before he is, helping him slide the door closed and locking it behind him as he bends over the toilet again. The six of them are quiet in the main room, speaking in hushed whispers that neither you nor Namjoon wants to hear. You turn the knob on the sink, wetting a towel while you drown out the sound of voices, and letting a hand run over Namjoon’s back. 

“I’m okay,” he mutters. You ignore the way his voice shakes, the way his lips are redder than before, the way this happens more often than before. Instead, you just press the damp rag to his neck and watch his eyes close in relief. When he stands and flushes the evidence away, you already have his toothbrush ready and waiting, and you stay as close to him as you can until he takes a deep breath. 

“I’m okay,” He repeats. “I’m okay. It’s my birthday, and I’m okay.” 

He goes back out with a smile on his face and a laugh in his voice, teasing Hoseok about the way he fell and reenacting it, even. When he settles on the couch, he urges the others to continue the game. There’s a brief moment of hesitation before Jimin declares that he’s next and pulls something from the bowl on the table. 

You know you aren’t the only one that notices the way Namjoon’s eyes linger on the six men around him, but you are the only one that notices the way they also linger on his steamer trunk, the shelf with his books, the TV, the record player, the scrapbook of his life that they all worked on and Taehyung pieced together over the months, the plants on the wall that he had cared for. He looks around his apartment as if he’s looking at it for the last time. 

As if he’s already planning who’s going to get what. 

He finally asks the question you both have been thinking about, nearly two months later. His breathing comes in ragged pants, his lips stay chapped, and he keeps several blankets around him at all times to try to hide the shaking of his body. Your soft sobs echo through the apartment constantly; while you reheat the tea he doesn’t drink for the millionth time, while you quietly water and prune the plants he’s saved from death the way you wish you could save him, while you sit curled around him as he sleeps, soothing his coughs with quiet whispers. 

Night has just begun to fall, the rain of the day turning into a soft drizzle, and you stare at him blankly, unsure how to process what you’ve just heard. 

“Do you think I’ll come back?” He asks again, slightly louder. As if you hadn’t heard his shaky voice the first time. It’s not the question that floors you. You’ve been expecting this for weeks, months even. You’ve wondered it yourself as you prepare tea and ignore the sounds of him vomiting blood in the bathroom, as he disappears to the hospital and returns with a worse prognosis than before, as you’ve adjusted to the idea that you are dead and he is dying and you cannot do anything to help him. 

You never would have expected the hope that his words carry though. 

“Why does it sound like you want to?” You ask. Your voice is clear in the air and you’re glad for it, because this isn’t something you want to talk about through your board. 

“Because I do?” His response is delayed and sounds more like a question than a real answer. 

“Why?!” You demand. 

“Are you serious, Casper?” His brow is furrowed as he sits up and lets the blankets fall away to sit haphazardly off the couch. 

“Are you? Joon, why would you want to come back?”

“You’re seriously asking me that question? Why would I not? I’ve got so much I still want to do, I never thought I’d get the chance to after I got the diagnosis and now I might be able to. Why wouldn’t I want that?”

“Because it doesn’t work like that! You don’t get to just wander the world and fuck around, Joon, you’re dead.”

“Yeah, but you can still read and write and everything. I’d have all the time in the world to read the books I want to read, watch the shows I want to watch, write the music and stories and lyrics that I want to write.”

“Yeah, so long as it all stays in this apartment!” The light in the room flickers slightly with the force of your irritation. “You can’t do anything that isn’t in this room, Namjoon, you can’t use any of the electronics, you can’t read a book unless it’s here, you can’t write music unless it’s on actual paper, you can’t do anything.” 

“Yeah, and I could make that work. Why are you so upset about this? I thought you’d be happy.”

“Happy? You think I’d be happy that you’d be stuck in these four walls forever, too? Why would that make me happy?” Namjoon stands, running a hand through his hair and shaking his head. 

“Because I’d be with you! We’d be together, forever! Do you not want to be with me?”

“Of course I want to be with you, Joon, but not at the cost of you being stuck here. I don’t want that for anyone, certainly not the man I love.”

“And what if that’s what I want? What if I want to spend the rest of time with you? I’m already spending the rest of my life with you, I’m in love with you, I don’t want to leave you.”

“And I don’t want you to go, but Joon, why would I want you stuck here, too? This isn’t something fun. This isn’t anything that I enjoy.”

“Oh, so you regret it all then?”

“I didn’t say that, I just don’t want you to be stuck in a shitty studio apartment for who knows how long when you can’t fucking do half of the things you love! You wouldn’t go on walks, Namjoon, you wouldn’t go with Guk and Jimin to the movies, you wouldn’t get visits from Hobi, you wouldn’t get to shop with Taehyung or Jin, you wouldn’t get to drag Yoongi away from his thesis or celebrate with them when he finishes it! It’s not like being alive, Namjoon, you’d be dead and alone and in hell!”

“Whatever,” He mutters, shoving his arms into his coat. “Why can’t you understand for one fucking second that it wouldn’t be like that with you? I’d rather be stuck here forever than have to die in some shitty apartment and not even be able to touch the person I love.”

“Why can’t you understand that it’s still death? You’d be dead, Joon, your friends would go to your funeral and disappear from your life, and you’d be stuck staring out that window at that shitty alley for the rest of time. You don’t get it, you don’t how terrible it is to be stuck here and watch life pass you by.”

“Then why the fuck are you still here?” He asks. The door slams behind him before you can answer him, and your scream shakes everything in the room. You just barely catch one of the plants in the kitchen, a brown-potted one with ‘Shooky’ scrawled in Yoongi’s familiar handwriting, before it crashes to the ground. You return it to its place gently and huff another frustrated groan. 

You wish you could explain it better, but you know he wouldn’t get it even if you could. He doesn’t understand what it’s like to be trapped between four walls and unable to do anything without massive amounts of effort. And he won’t, not unless he experiences it himself. 

You’ve already watched him wither away. You’ve watched him become thin and sallow and a shadow of the Namjoon who first moved in, and you don’t know what you would do if he came back. You wouldn’t be alone anymore, of course, and you’d have him here with you, but at what cost? Namjoon was built for cherry blossoms and sunshine and the riverside. He would hate being trapped here even more than you do.

Still, you could have been more understanding of his view. You can admit that even being stuck in a shitty apartment wasn’t so terrible when you had Namjoon there to make you laugh or watch TV or read to you. It may even get better if he turned into a ghost; maybe you could hold his hands in yours, could feel him wrap his arms around you, could press kisses to his skin again. 

You move to the window and stand there waiting. It’s not good for him to be out, even if the rain had stopped a few days ago and the forecasters promised it was the end of the downpours. He was still weak, you’d be surprised he even went anywhere to begin with but you know he likes to walk to calm himself down. 

You worry for what feels like hours. You can’t focus on anything, not the way the sun starts to set, not the sound of cars passing or the neighbor leaving. You’ve worked yourself into knots by the time you hear his whistle echo up through the streets, nearly lost in the sound of some argument in the alley below you. You catch a brief view of his coat and smile when you see that he’s got some half-dead plant tucked under an arm. There’s the briefest glimpse of what looks like a Ca scrawled onto it, and your heart jumps in your throat.

You make your way to the stove, turning the heat up slightly too high so that it’ll be ready when he comes in. The arguing outside gets louder but you pay it no mind, pulling the honey out and setting it next to his favorite mug. You’re reaching for the tea when you hear something else. It definitely sounds like Namjoon’s voice, but it’s not in the hall or at the door like usual. It’s raised, like he’s yelling at someone, like it was just a while ago when he was fighting with you. A crash startles you and before you can even reach the window to see what’s going on, there’s a deafening bang. 

You slam your fist against the window, watch the red mix with dirt, and the kettle isn't that only thing that screams. 

“I think that’s the last of it,” Jeongguk says. His voice is scratchy and quiet, but it’s deafening in the silence of the apartment. 

“Yeah,” Hoseok replies. His eyes are rimmed with red and his hands shake as he slides the last mug into a box. “Thanks for the help, Guk. I don’t, um.” He sniffles. “I don’t think I could’ve done it myself, y’know?” 

“I know,” Jeongguk agrees. They’re quiet again, adjusting the things they’ve boxed and avoiding finishing what they’re doing. 

“Oh, can you get that?” You don’t have to look to know what Hoseok is talking about. Jeongguk grunts an affirmation and makes his way over. It’s a strange feeling, having someone pass through you again for the first time since. His hands fly into the air as he tries to lift, clearly not having expected it to weigh anything. 

His reflection in the window frowns, and he tries again, tugging on the pot. 

“I can’t get it,” He says. “Do you think he glued these things down or something?” 

“No,” Hoseok replies as he wanders over as well. “He used to pick them up to re-pot them, remember? And the others came up with no problem.” 

“Well it’s stuck or something, you try.”

Hobi takes Jeongguk’s place and pulls hard at the plot, but your grip doesn’t waver. He huffs and disappears. When he returns, he’s got a butter knife in one hand that he does his best to slip under the pot. He tries hard to pry it up, so hard that you almost want to give in. You don’t though. 

The knife clatters to the floor with as much force as Hoseok can put behind it, a curse following quickly behind it. 

“Fuck it,” Hoseok says. His voice is shaky and you know he’s near tears again. “Just fuck it.” 

“But that was-”

“You can try if you want, Guk, but I just-” He chokes back a sob, shaking his head and moving to pick up the boxes he’d set down. “I just can’t, okay?” He disappears out the door in a hurry, and you wish you could follow after him. 

Jeongguk looks down at the small plant, with its painted periwinkle pot and soft leaves. He runs a quivering finger over the leaf and sniffles. He doesn’t try to lift it again, just stands and lets his tear soak into the soil.

“I wish you could come back to us,” He whispers. “We thought...we expected more time. It’s not...it’s not really fair, y’know? So if you can hear me, if you can come back to us, please do. Please.” 

He turns and leaves, the apartment door slamming behind him like the lid of a casket. Your grip on Mang loosens now that you know no one’s going to try to take it. You’d watched them pack everything else up; you’d let them take the steamer trunk full of records, the shelf full of books and movies, the collection of mugs, the soft blankets, the ratty couch, the rest of the plants he’d cared for so tenderly. 

Piece by piece they had packed Namjoon up and walked him out of the apartment, but this was the one piece they couldn’t have. This was his favorite and none of them knew how to care for it like you did, and you had to. You owed it to him. He deserved to come back to at least one familiar thing, never mind that you woke up not even a day later and it’s now been weeks. If there was one thing you wanted him to see when he got back, it was his favorite of his plants. 

The sun glares into your eyes from where it shines down on the city. It reflects off something in the window from across the alley, would be blinding if you actually had eyes. You pay it no mind, focused instead on the remains of the broken brown pot down in the alley, the way you’ve pieced them together in your head a thousand times just to trace the word Casper with your eyes. You can almost hear his voice saying it, even now.

You whip around, eyes darting through the empty space of the apartment as your hands tighten around Mang.

All that rests there is empty space, mocking in its loneliness. You remember when he moved in, remember how it felt to test the boundaries of the apartment and wish you were free. The want is still there, to leave and never think of it again, never think of him. You know better, though. You could never escape the memory of him, the way he laughed and smiled and spoke. You could never abandon Mang. Not when he said he’d always come back to you. 

You turn back to the window, cursing the sunlight with every other breath. It fades, slowly, into the black of night, before returning again, and again, and again. Days pass, each one feeling like years. Hoseok doesn’t appear to show the apartment, no one comes to collect the small periwinkle pot between your palms, and the ghost of his laugh echoes around you. 

The sun blinds you again. You don’t even know how long it’s been, just that you’ve yet to move. Light glints off whatever hangs in the window across the alley. That's when you see it, a vague reflection in the weathered glass of a dimple and a grin, and warmth surrounds you.

“I told you I’d always come back, Casper.”

#namjoon fanfiction #rm fanfiction #bts fanfiction #namjoon smut #namjoon x reader #namjoon angst #rm smut #reader insert #rm angst #rm x reader #namjoon fanfic #rm fanfic #bts fanfic #love yourself collab #ghost reader #clumsy namjoon #unspecified gender reader #bts angst #major character death #fic: forever rain #ddaenggtan

[crookswithbooks]

Pay Attention To Me

Notes: Finally! Sorry this came out so late, I was busy with Christmas plans and other projects and everything just got so behind, but here it is at last. Merry several days late Christmas everyone, and Happy New Year’s Eve!

Day Twelve - Lestat is feeling overlooked so he goes out on the town to find his own entertainment. 

The world was covered in twilight. Trees became villains reaching out and the moon illuminated menacing shadows on the pavement. The air smelled of rain, and even then tiny droplets pattered against the ground. Slowly they melted the scattered patches of snow lingering on the rooftops of buildings and covering the cobbled streets. Inside their tiny house, Louis sat curled on the couch, a book held upright in his hands with his eyes roaming the pages absently. He toyed with a wineglass, twisting it between his fingers and occasionally lifting the glass to his lips. Mostly, though, he sat, and Lestat could not take it anymore.

“Louis.” There was no response, not even a tilt of the head as acknowledgment. “Louis? I know you can hear me and this little charade you are keeping up is ridiculous and childish.”

Louis sighed, a long and suffering sound that dragged on Lestat’s ears. “I can hear you fine. As you can see, I am otherwise occupied.” He held up the book in evidence and promptly returned to it.

Lestat watched him from his chair, an old chair he had found in one of the antique stores the modern era was so fond of. It reminded him of the old days when it was just the two of them and Claudia and they were happy. His sharp nails tapped against the wood impatiently, eyes narrowing at Louis’s continued dismissiveness.

Finally he could stand it no longer and stood up, stalking over to the brunet. He kneeled beside him, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and pressing his mouth to the nape of his neck. If Louis registered the movement he hid it well, not so much as blinking at the action. Lestat opened his mouth, softly suckling the sensitive skin contained there.

“Lestat.”

Lestat grinned against him. “Yes my love?”

“I know what you are doing and I am not in the mood. I would like to continue my reading in peace if you don’t mind.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Lestat replied innocently, gently digging in his teeth. He could feel the shudder run through Louis’s body, though he tried to repress it.

“Lestat,” he breathed and closed his eyes. He did not, Lestat noticed, try and stop him.

Lestat’s teeth dug in just a bit more until he had pierced skin and he could feel the warm sensation of blood coiling against his tongue. He savored the taste, gently sucking the liquid from his neck until finally Louis gasped and reached a hand back, gripping Lestat’s hair and pulling him back.

“That’s enough.”

“I don’t think it is.” Lestat moved to take more but Louis turned at last, dropping his book and grapping Lestat by the front of his jacket, pulling him close.

“I said,” Louis hissed, not breaking eye contact. “That’s enough.”

Lestat smiled deviously in a way that could not fail to provoke and raised an eyebrow. “And what will you do if I don’t?”

Louis considered him for a moment and then, to Lestat’s great disappointment, released his jacket and settled himself on the couch once more, picking back up his book. “I shall leave and then you’ll be alone, something I know you hate far more than boredom.”

Lestat snapped his teeth impatiently, rising to his full height. “You’re dreadfully boring, you know? I do all these nice things for you, build you this house, provide for you, fill our lives with fanciful wonders that most people only dream of, and the only thing I ask is that my lover pay even the slightest attention to me but you cannot do even that.”

Louis marked a page in his book, placing it besides him on the couch and turning a glare on his partner. “You bought this house, Lestat, from a shady man you met in an ad, and the entire thing is falling apart as it is.”

“It’s called an antique,” Lestat sniffed haughtily.

“I provide for myself, thank you very much, unless you mean the little boys you leave littered around the house like some kind of deranged cat, bleeding all over our carpet that I bought. And your fanciful wonders, as you call them, are nothing but meaningless trinkets you forget about the day after. For goodness sake Lestat, there is a boar’s head hanging on our wall!”

“Well excuse me for trying to bring something of the outside world into our home, or else you would never see it!” Lestat began to pace the room and Louis watched him with an expression of reluctant interest. “You spend all day cooped up in here, and I am tired of it! You need to live!”

“I already lived.”

“No,” Lestat corrected. “You were alive. There is a difference, in case you weren’t aware. You spend these centuries sulking like an insolent child and the only thing that excites you now is death. You dream of it, staring longingly at flames and daggers like a fool. Yet you never have the courage to go through with it, because in the end you are a coward. Scared of living, scared of dying. And I, for one, am sick of it.”

Lestat turned around, whirling out the doorway in a huff. Louis watched him for a moment, before picking back up his book and turning a page.

Lestat was enraged.

He found himself in a small town miles away from the house he had stormed out of. He was not entirely sure where he was, merely that it was somewhere where Louis was not which was enough for the time being. He strolled the cobbled streets, watching bundled humans hurry back to their houses for the night.

Lestat couldn’t believe him. He did everything he possibly could for Louis’s sake and still he found himself scorned in the end. He was willing to ignore all of Louis’s little rebellions, all the times he ran away from him, tried to kill him, replaced him with someone new—he was willing to ignore it all because that’s what you did when you loved someone. You forgave them. Unfortunately, it appeared that Louis had not received that message.

He wanted entertainment. The thought came to him seemingly on a whim, but as he examined it further he realized that the desire had been there all along. If Louis was going to continue to be obstinate and ignore him, than he would seek amusement elsewhere.

The scent of blood was heavy in the air. It always was during the wintertime, heat brought quickly to the surface as their frail human bodies fought to keep them alive. Lestat inhaled, his path following the particularly alluring smell of a dashing youth in his twenties with dark hair that curled in the most lovely fashion about his ears. He made sure to keep a decent amount of distance between him and the boy, twisting in and around patrons of the tiny city.

The boy appeared to be rushing somewhere, his steps hurried and anxious. He cast furtive glances to either side as he slipped into a small alleyway, disappearing into the darkness. Lestat narrowed his eyes, a predatory grin glinting on his features. He had always enjoyed the chase, far more than the others had.

He kept close to the wall, tracking the boy’s coattails carefully as they flapped in the hurtling breeze. He heard the murmur of voices and peered around the stairwell he had been clutching at. It was then that he realized that the boy was not alone.

A girl, maybe ten years older than him, smiled lovingly as the boy pulled out a bundle of flowers he had been concealing under his cloak. She had beautiful auburn hair that fell about her shoulders in wind-swept waves. As he watched her examine the flowers and then the boy with a critical eye, he recognized the same cold gestures that Louis often reserved for him, only more calculating than Louis’s bland apathy. She was toying with him. That much was obvious. It made sense, what with the age difference and shady rendezvous in back alleys.

“I picked these especially for you,” the boy explained in excited whispers, clutching her slender fingers in his own, wonderingly. “I thought you might like them. They’re red like your hair.”

Lestat had done much of the same thing once for Louis. A young man with the most beautiful green eyes, black hair slinking down to his chin, much the same as Louis himself, had been left in his bedroom as a gift. Louis had not taken kindly to it, to say the least.

The woman accepted the gift with disdainful eyes, but pressed them close to her heart. “Thank you. I will treasure them. Do you have the rest?”

There was a moment when the boy, so spellbound by the woman was he, did not take notice of her words. The next moment he blinked, snapping himself back into action, and reached inside his cloak again to pull out a bundle of herbs that Lestat recognized as a very rare type of medicine. “O-Of course! Here you are.”

The herbs were regarded with much more care than the flowers had been and she tucked it carefully into her bosom, far beyond the prying eyes of strangers. “Thank you. Father will be ecstatic to have these.”

“And now?” the boy asked anxiously, licking his lips. Lestat felt something inside him surge at the simple action, but he held back for now, desiring to see where this would go first. He had wanted to be entertained after all. “What you promised in return?”

“Of course.” The woman slipped her hands from the grip of the boy, placing them securely on his hips and tugging him closer. She leaned in till they were only inches away, his face flushed with expectation, their combined breath mingling. Silky lips met his and Lestat allowed himself to watch the spectacle for a couple seconds more before springing into action.

Lestat was fast in the way that shadows were fast, there one moment and gone the next. He held the woman tight in his grip, ripped cruelly away from their kiss. He held one arm around her waist, securing her to him, and the other hand tilted her head back firmly, revealing the pale expanse of her neck.

“Olivia!” the boy exclaimed, anger and panic mixing on his features. He turned on Lestat, taking a step forward. “What are you doing, sir?”

“Saving you from what is sure to be a nasty relationship,” Lestat answered, lowering his lips to her trembling skin, his own curls falling over her revealed shoulders. “She is quite the beauty, though, I will agree.”

“Let me go!” the woman cried impetuously, struggling against his hold. “You can’t do this!”

She stilled instantly as his lips were replaced by fangs, pressing sharply into the skin. “Oh but I believe I can.”

 Louis was not on the couch when he returned home. Lestat carefully placed both bodies on the sofa, taking a moment to trace a loving stroke down the unconscious boy’s cheek. “Louis? I’ve brought us dinner.”

He frowned at the lack of reply. He swept from the parlor room, searching the house for any sign of his undead lover. When he reached the bedroom finally and there was still no sign of him, he started to think that maybe he had gone out, angry as well after their fight. What he was instead met with was the sudden presence of a body pressed up against his own, their stance quite mirroring that of Lestat’s earlier in the alley. Lestat stiffened, a thrill of pleasure rushing down his spine.

“Hello Louis,” he said pleasantly, casting a glance back at him. “Finally come around, have you?”

“I have finished my book.”

Lestat closed his eyes as Louis peppered his shoulders and neck with gentle kisses. It was then that he remembered that he was mad at the latter and slipped out of his grip, turning around to glare at him with crossed arms. “And just why should I forgive you? You treated me horribly earlier, and now you expect me to come crawling back into your arms?”

“It’s Christmas,” Louis pointed out. His cheeks were flushed, evident of a recent kill, and his eyes sparkled with a lustful desire that always served to weaken Lestat.

“We’re heathens, Louis,” Lestat responded dryly.

Louis merely shrugged. “Okay. Well if you don’t want my company, I suppose I will go find something else to do. There is another book by this esteemed dead writer that I’ve been meaning to get to—”

Louis found himself pinned against the bed in the next instant, the bedframe rattling in protest. “You will be doing no such thing,” Lestat snarled, leaning down to press hungry, envious kisses against his lips. “You will stay here with me and if you’re lucky I might let you go in the morning.”

Louis smiled, the clear winner. There were would be other battles, but the round of that night belonged to him. “That’s what I thought. What about dinner.”

“Fuck dinner.”

“Gladly.”

“Git.”

Later Lestat would remember that he was mad at the other, but for right now he chose to exemplify it in the forming of violent sex, a love language they both understood well. 

Neither one of them could be really mad at the situation, in the end. 

#interview with a vampire #the vampire chronicles #louis x lestat #fanfiction #iwav #lestat de lioncourt #louis de pointe du lac #twelve days of ficmas #christmas