#CW: bad depictions of mental health | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sunnami · 6 months ago

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❝like the grass wants to grow, i want to run anywhere that you go.❞

summary. 'a tiny butterfly flapping its wings today may lead to a devastating hurricane weeks from now.' or alternatively, it takes six lifetimes for you to find each other.

pairings. poly!marauders+lily x reader.

word count. 8.9k (i tried to keep it short. i really did T-T)

tags. hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, happy ending. reincarnated/regressor!reader. no specific gender described. not proofread, we die like lucerys velaryon.

cws. brief depictions of death and war, themes of mental health and trauma.

note: lmaoao, as per the poll, here is the time-traveler!reader fic! i didn't cry during the angsty parts so it's probably not that bad.

YOU WAKE UP to a familiar weathered stone ceiling, owls softly hooting beyond the curtained windows, sunken in the mattress of a canopy bed with low snoring on either side of you. There’s a wilting candle on your nightstand, alongside an unfastened leather journal—a whiff of spilt ink under your nose. In your limp embrace, is a plush capybara with a turtle attached to its head. The quilt blanket is entangled between your thighs, the early morning breeze flurrying past the exposed stretch of your belly where your oversized granny-square jumper has ridden up.

It’s only then, when you try curling your fingers and wiggling your toes, that you realize that your body feels as though it had been hit by a shrinking charm.

You sit upright instantly, heart skipping a beat from fright.

No.

You can’t have.

You reach for your brass handheld mirror, tucked away in the bedside drawers.

There is no way you are this unlucky.

Yet staring back at you, is your eleven-year-old self.

Naturally, you end up screaming in frustration—startling the robins idle on the windowsills and all but waking the entirety of the Gryffindor castle. Prefects burst inside the dormitory, wand at the ready and crust in their eyes, in search of a threat only to find you on the verge of hyperventilating.

Bloody hell.

Not again!

Merlin, Morgana and Arthur—you are not going through puberty a sixth time.

“Oh, fuck me,” you mumble defeatedly as you fall back onto the patchwork pillows. Your roommates are gawping at you in horror, the sound of heavy footfalls echoing in the halls outside.

Months ago, you had heard about the gruesome passing of Dorcas Meadowes—you weren’t necessarily close friends with the girl, despite being sorted in the same House, but you would grieve where grief is due.

YOUR FIRST LIFE came to an abrupt end at the age of nineteen, in a quaint coffeehouse where the owner knew your name and the baristas wore a sunlit grin everyday. That day, no one had expected for Death Eaters to wreak havoc in Diagon Alley—it could have been anticipated, if only the Ministry was competent during the onset of the war. But with the extensive list of Muggleborn and half-blood casualties after that incident, Ministry officials had no choice but to restrict certain areas and propose the ‘lesser-breeds’ go into hiding for their safety. This alluded to many families; most condemned to be blood-traitors.

(There had been fleeting whispers of her dying at the wand of Voldemort himself.)

Then, you’d woken up in the four walls of your dormitory. The sensation of being ever-so cruelly struck by the killing curse burning in your chest—a scorching fire, yet bitterly cold all the same. You had sobbed wretchedly, curled up in a shuddering ball of tears until your roommates had called for the prefects. It got worse when they tried to console you—you felt everything still. The panicked cries and screams of the wounded ceaselessly echoing in your head. You remembered the shards of glass sinking into your skin as you dove for cover, Unforgivables apathetically hurled in every direction.

It was not until Madam Pomfrey administered a Calming Draught and an elixir for dreamless sleep that you finally went out like a light extinguished.

Your second life was relatively longer—you had spent it under the supervision of mind healers at St. Mungo’s, after all. For the next thirty years, you’d been confined to a ward on the fourth floor. (Later, you would share this space with a couple who went by the names of Alice and Frank Longbottom.) Regardless of the bleak walls, it was not so bad. The quilts were warm and the assigned matron, Madam Strout, was kind and fussed over you regularly. While the healers had done everything they could, you continued to struggle with discerning what appeared to be your ‘first life.’ (Which one was your true reality? The first? Or the second?) Eventually, all the poking and prodding wore you down. Your fingertips had bruised and brittled. You could not look over your shoulder in fear of finding a Death Eater staring back at you. Night terrors plagued your dreams.

(Your parents who had always embraced you with loving arms—they could not look you in the eyes now.)

Memories bled into newer memories as the days went by. You haunted the corridors with a plagued stare, quickly becoming a woeful canard amongst the residents of the hospital. ‘The hysteric fortune teller,’ they called you. You who spoke of wars and rebellion at the age of twelve—but whose words nobody cared for when Voldemort began rising to power. You who’d gone mad and overwrought. In the end, you believed everyone else.

(See? It must have been all in your head—a wayward spell that unfortunately damaged your memories.)

You’re unsure of how you died, but perhaps, you were never even alive in the first place. There was only so much Draught of Peace you could take before you inevitably became a soulless, sleep-walking husk of a person.

You woke up in the Gryffindor tower once more—this time, you’re careful enough to smother your cries.

If you flinched every time Marlene McKinnon coarsely bellowed Dorcas’s name in the middle of the school hallways, or if you averted your gaze at the sight of Alice Fortescue and Frank Longbottom’s intertwined hands—it was nobody’s business but your own. In this life, you kept your head down, breezing through your homework and exams—although you had seen no purpose in it, at this point. Each morning that you woke up, you wondered if this was a favor from the Gods, or a relentless hell so meticulously-crafted for you.

(But what sins had you committed for them to spit on you as they had done? Surely, you would be granted peace after two deaths.)

You could not tell your family, nor could you ask anyone else in Hogwarts if they remembered fragments of their past lives—for the last time you had done that, you were met with vindictive laughter and cruel gazes.

(At that moment, you had understood Xenophilius Lovegood a little bit more. You never knew how many sought to trample on the wallflowers of the castle.)

And so, you’d kept your head down until the end of your time in the castle. You stayed away from Diagon Alley and surrounding areas, and you willed yourself to perfect the art of apparating—a skill you wished that you had learned earlier.

On the first of November 1981, witches and wizards had come to celebrate the fall of Lord Voldemort—which ultimately meant the death of James and Lily Potter. (You could not come to their funeral the first time around, seeing as you were chained to your hospital mattress that day, inebriated on the third dreamless sleep potion administered to you.)

Under the eyes of St. Jerome, you laid bouquets of white roses and dahlias on their tombstones.

“Wherever your souls are now, I hope you find each other and unearth peace,” you whispered to the two names engraved on the slate, hands clasped together as you rested on the grass. The winds had been cold and biting, a testament to the looming winter that would sweep away the tears on their graves. Like Dorcas Meadows, you did not interact much with James and Lily—but more than anyone, you knew how death was no easy enemy to conquer.

(You hoped their orphaned son would live a life that would not take him too early.)

A few months later, you met your demise to a werewolf named Fenrir Greyback.

As you bled out on the grassfields, you wished for Death to come and take you faster.

When you awakened, it was in the same bed and the same dusty ceiling.

There was nothing you could do but go back to sleep this time around.

After dying pathetically for a third time, a stubborn part of you wanted to fight back—so you did.

Unlike your previous lives, you joined the Dueling Club, supervised by Professor Flitwick himself. Your wand work was clumsy and you stumbled on your incantations. You could not lift your wand without remembering a coffee shop laid to ruin and wreckage or the hardened gaze of Greyback as he sank his teeth into your neck. The times were merciless, your dance with Death even more—but you would not die helplessly again.

As you lay in your bed, muscles aching from dueling practice, you had realized one thing.

You did not want to stain your hands with the blood of another—having grown tired of the Reaper and his antics. If the Gods would not let you rest, then you would not let them take anyone else.

After all, you had the stubbornness of a Gryffindor lion.

For the next six years or so, you devoured your textbooks on charms and healing spells, refining your spellwork until your tongue grew numb and your wrists became sore. When the time came, you followed James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Lily Evans, and many more, in joining the Order of the Phoenix. (Perhaps you should have realized earlier that you all were just wide-eyed children on both sides, forced to partake in a war that should have never been yours to fight.)

The First Wizarding War transfigured the years into a blur of mourning, surviving, and fighting in alleys now-bloodied. Even the sun hid behind the clouds, for brothers began turning on one another. You could only find solace in the fact you had kept Dorcas away from Voldemort’s clutches, volunteering to go in her stead during incursions, and Marlene McKinnon alive for another day to see her family.

But for how long could you cheat fate?

Hours before your death, you found yourself in a forest clearing. The campsite was filled with witches and wizards afflicted with severe hexes and curses—a few of Dumbledore’s best fighters screaming in agony from the Cruciatus.

There you found Remus Lupin, bruised and worse for wear, attempting to wrap a bandage around his shoulders in an empty tent.

“You look like you’ve seen better days,” you said in a soft greeting, stepping inside the tent with a forced smile, your collection of potions and jars of herbal pastes jostling in your leather satchel.

Remus chuckled tiredly. “Haven’t we all?”

You gently pried the bandage from his trembling hands and maneuvering yourself at his back. You stifled the urge to cry at the sight of his scars—so violently red against his pallid skin. Compared to your previous lives, you had developed a friendship with Remus and his group of bold marauders—a camaraderie as true as it could be in dire times. (And if providence had been kinder, you could have dared to want more than just friendship.) You poured drops of Dittany onto his shallower wounds, murmuring empty words of comfort as he flinched and hissed.

“It’s Peter,” he rasped, abruptly holding onto your wrist as you turned to leave. “He’s been missing for hours. Please. I don’t know what I’d. . . what I’d do if. . . if. . .”

You squeezed his hand. “I’ll find him, Remus. Don’t worry.”

True to your word, you had found Peter at sundown deep within the forest. There was an unsettling quietude that hung in the air as you trudged to his side. He was kneeling on the muddy ground, head hanging low. It’s only then that you noticed the body laying still in his arms. Violent chills slithered down your spine as you recognized the woman in his embrace.

“Mary!” you cried out, hurrying to them as fast as you could.

“What happened?” you asked frantically, hands in a desperate search for a pulse. When you were met with no answer, you pressed again more heatedly. “Peter! Look at me!” You gripped his chin, heart hammering in your chest. “You have to tell me what happened! I can’t. . . I can’t help her if I don’t know what hit her.” Droplets of tears fell from your eyes down to Mary’s pale cheeks. “I can’t. . . I need—please. . .”

Bloodshot eyes stared back at you. “I. . . I didn’t want to do it.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry,” he croaked, burying his head into the crook of Mary’s neck. “I was so, so scared.”

“Peter, what are you talking about?” You grimaced impatiently when Peter lifted his gaze—but he was not looking at you, rather behind you.

The answer to your question was a killing curse to the back.

An unseen rustle in the bushes that you should have paid attention to, a cloaked figure darker than any shadow; a Death Eater that’d come to ensnare you in a perfectly-laid trap.

(Damn it!)

(Damn it all to Hell!)

You awoke to the sound of your screaming and your limbs thrashing in the bed you’ve grown to despise. There was nary a remorse in your body as your roommates wailed at the sight of your nails drawing blood from your arms. Later that morning, the common room would be filled with talks of your faraway gaze and your scratched-up flesh.

You could not take it anymore.

In your fifth life, you had sought peace—or rather, the most beautiful mockery of it.

You decided to give up your magic to chase a semblance of normalcy. No more wands, no more moving portraits, no more jinxes and pranks, no more owls and wizard robes. Most of all, no more war. (‘But it did not work like that’, Death laughed.) In this life, you wanted what was denied of you in the previous ones.

A family.

A happy ending.

Bitterly enough, the Gods saw fit to give you only one of the two.

You married a Muggle, to your parents’ dismay. He was nice and compassionate—a distant contrast to the ongoing turmoil of the wizarding world. But you could not bring yourself to feel guilt. You had been stripped of everything, which included the privilege to die and lay your soul to rest in perpetuity.

(Who were you, if not a dead man walking?)

Over the years, you would have three children with your husband—three beautiful children born from love, in a world that would not actively seek to take them from you. You raised them all to adulthood, hoping they would not fault you for finding relief at the lack of magic in their veins. Their names were Kinsley, Piper, and Avery—and you had adored every inch of them, from their striking eyes to the tips of their stubby fingers.

On your deathbed, you were surrounded by your grandchildren and your great-grandchildren. An image you held close to your heart as your vision began to deteriorate.

Just this once, you prayed to all that would hear.

Let me die surrounded by my family.

At the age of ninety-one, you drew your final breath.

And when you opened your eyes, you were back in Hogwarts for the sixth time.

TO SIRIUS BLACK, you are a curious little wallflower, albeit a withering one—you who blend among the crowd, with a sad gaze in your eyes and the fretful twisting of your fingers. He doesn’t know why he’s particularly drawn to you—but perhaps he understands, more than anyone, the hesitance of taking up space in fear of punishment for one wrong move. But you look so lost, meandering along the corridors like the ghosts of the castle—but even the spirits seem more alive and colorful than you.

“What is it that they have taken from you?” Sirius wants to ask.

(What judgment has fate placed upon you so—for you to cry each morning?)

There is a raging urge in his veins to reach over and wipe your tears away, but what can he do as a stranger, if not watch powerlessly as you fade into the background?

His fingers feel like they might fall off if they do not entwine with yours. He wants to offer up his shoulders to carry the burdens that weigh down on a creature as lovely as you.

There are times when he and the other Gryffindors catch you crying at the long tables of the Great Hall.

“O-Oh, was I?” Your reply is quiet. Resigned. Sirius has never felt his heart break more than in that moment. You move to weakly swipe at your tears. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to. . .”

“It’s alright, really,” Lily says, her voice strained, the words lodged in her throat. Under the table, she seeks James’s hand for comfort. (How can someone appear to be so lonely and defeated?) “We all have those days.”

“Yes.” You blink away the fresh tears pricking at your eyes, mindlessly pulling at the threads of your woven bandages, a weary chuckle falling from the cracked skin of your lips. “Except, it seems the days never end for me.”

Lily stays silent.

Sirius shares a look with Remus from across the table, an unspoken question hanging between the animagus and the werewolf.

How do their voices call out to the one who so faithfully believes that the world has abandoned them?

But Sirius Black is determined and unyielding—what good of a prankster would he be if he could not bring a smile upon your beautiful face?

He gets his chance during Transfiguration class, when McGonagall instructs the class to pair-up for an activity in turning miniature statues into birds. Predictably, you don’t move a muscle, staring ever-so intently at the sights beyond the classroom windows that you don’t notice the professor observing you worriedly—her lips tightly pressed and her eyes wrinkled with concern. Sirius slams his buttocks onto the wooden chair next to you; the sound of chair legs screeching bounces off the cobblestone walls.

“Hullo, partner.” Sirius grins as he offers you an enthusiastic wave, his dark curls floundering with his energy. He feels the gazes of his best mates boring into his back, but decides to ignore it for now—Remus can live without him for one class. In his mind—a perfectly-reasonable logic for an eleven-year-old, mind you—he figures that you would find class more entertaining if you had the right company. And, Sirius is wonderful company.

You stare at him with furrowed brows and Sirius wishes nothing more than to bring fire to your eyes. “Partner?” you repeat, a tinge of confusion in your voice—a deafening cadence to his ears, as for once, it is not desolation that laces your words.

“Partner,” Sirius affirms with a nod of his head, barely paying heed to McGonagall’s directions at the front of the room—but noting the mention of a prize for the pair who would successfully cast the spell for longer than ten minutes. He takes your silence for uncertainty, and replies with a light-hearted scoff—finding the pout on your lips adorable. “I’ll have you know I’m a bloody master at Transfiguration. Not even James could match me in this class—okay, maybe he could, but that’s not important, is it? Point is, with me at your side, Minnie will have no choice but to give us a hundred points!”

From the frown on your lips, Sirius gathers that you’re unimpressed by him—a first, but not a total setback.

He seizes the small box of porcelain figurines before you can blink, a wry smile on his face as he wrangles a boastful laugh from his throat. “Ready to have your mind blown? I’ve been practicing this spell since last night. There’s no way I’m getting this wrong.”

“Oh, I’m Sirius Black, by the way—at your service.” He holds out his hand for you to shake, wondering what your palm would feel like in his. Cold? Warm to touch? Or, perhaps, a perfect fit—just as Lily’s hand feels laced with his?

He doesn’t find the answer to his question. Instead, you draw your wand from your robe pocket, and point the tip of the wood at the earthenware at Sirius’s grasp.

“Avifors,” you recite delicately—such a flawless incantation that Sirius hears Merlin himself weeping in the depths of his grave.

The figurine grows feathers and a beak—Sirius and the rest of the students can only watch as the weebill flutters its wings and soars through the roof.

He’s stupefied. Breathless, one might say. But not because of your little trick—rather, the growing smile on your lips as you watch the bird fly across the room. Your eyes flicker with mischief, and like a man on the edge of a cliff—what is Sirius Black to do, but fall?

THE END OF YOUR first-year at Hogwarts draws near, and so does the springtime—a coveted season for lily flowers to bloom. The April winds find you out by the lake edge, swinging your legs idly on a marble stone bench where the cypress vines grow along the cracks. Songbirds fly overhead as the daylight glistens on the surface of the Black Lake, a beech tree in the near distance, butterflies dancing past the gnarled trunk. Pollen floats like dust in a cupboard under a staircase. Ducklings waddle after their mother as riverine rabbits scurry on into the tall, purple nettles. On days like this, you find it easier to settle into your new life—but, perhaps, you have your friends to thank for that.

Yet, as you find yourself wanting to reach out to their outstretched hands, flashes of children with your hair, your eyes, cheekbones whittled to resemble your own, haunt you. Their pure and gentle temperaments, painfully akin to their father’s. You mourn them every day. Their names are forever inscribed in the locket of your soul. (You did not find it fair—you who live again, and they who disappear forever. An existence that would cease to be—all because you fear what awaits you in this life. Why must it be you who should walk this land with a body scarred by wounds no one else can see? Why must it be you who mourns the loss of your family, your friends, and all your loved ones—everyone murdered by the Gods who spit on the five graves with your name written on it? Why? Why?)

Do you dare to live a life without them? Is it fair to deprive them of a chance of being a family while you waste away on the Isles? You may have lived multiple lifetimes, but not once have you been given the answers you seek.

You will not find happiness without them; it is as you deserve.

(For why else would Death torment you so if you are seen as innocent in their eyes?)

“How did I know I’d find you here?” A sing-song voice emerges from the trees, and you’ve no need to turn your head—the sound of Lily’s bright cadence is one you’re familiar with. But, somehow, you’ve grown fond of her voice, more acquainted with her smile and laugh than you’ve ever been in the last five lives. (You have to wonder if this friendship is one you’re permitted to enjoy.) Her grin is blinding, more so than the afternoon sun behind her. Lily’s wavy hair falls over her shoulder as she plops down on the empty space beside you. “We didn’t see you at lunch today,” she says, looking ahead, the warmth of her hand inching closer to your own. “I figured you didn’t want a bunch of whiffy boys around.”

Then, she looks around, searching for any prying ears, a stream of giggles falling from her lips. “Although, I must warn you—their pockets are loaded with food stolen from the hall, saying they’d give it to you when you returned to the tower. But I think Minnie caught onto them.” She chortles, a fond gaze in her eyes.

You hum in thought, a smile unknowingly pulling at your lips. “Thank you, Lily. It’s sweet of you to come and find me.”

She harrumphs light-heartedly, snootily lifting up her nose. “Don’t get too used to it. We’re only just best friends, after all.”

A silence encompasses the two of you, sitting under the shade, pink fingers shyly intertwined. Lily allows the minutes to flow by like a breeze on the waters, until she stares at you with thick emotions flickering in her emerald eyes. She nibbles on her bottom lip, long lashes kissing her eyelids. “Are. . . Are you alright? Is it one of those days again?”

You grin at her question, impishly nudging her legs with yours. It’s a gesture you deeply appreciate—befriending you and growing closer to you in ways you imagine are never in your cards. But Lily is only eleven, and you will not act upon your selfishness. (But, maybe—just maybe—you are allowed to relish in their company until you are called once again to your deathbed. In the next life, they might not know your name as they do now, and the revelation frightens you immensely.)

“I’m okay,” you say, a gnawing lie that sounds unconvincing to even your own ears. You stare at the flock of swans diving in the lake. “I was just missing a few friends back home.” You remember the toddlers that you used to call your own—their spittled possessiveness toward anyone who dared to snatch your attention away from them. “I don’t know if they would be happy with me going off on my own adventure,” you say, sparing Lily a knowing look. “They are—erm—Muggles.”

“Oh.” Lily nods, mulling over your words. “Tuney. . . my sister. She sort of resents me ever since I left for Hogwarts. We live a world apart, and it barely helps that she ignores me during the holidays.” She sighs, averting her gaze elsewhere, a grimace pulling at her mouth. “Sometimes I wonder if all of this was never meant for me. That I was just a fluke. Why do I have magic and not her? Any day now, I expect for McGonagall to come and ask me to pack my bags and head straight home.”

“But,” says Lily, her eyes resolute and her fire unwavering, “until that day comes, I will enjoy every bit of this world as I can. Tuney will just have to deal with that.” She offers you a mellow smile—a likeness to a kind husband that you had once in a past lifetime. “Besides, I think those who truly love us will understand the paths we must take. Even if it means parting ways for a long time. Your friends will not blame you; they’ll want you to live truly and freely.”

Her words sink deep into your bones, and you can’t help but let out a hearty laugh. You simper at the confused tilt of her head. “Wise words, Lily Marie Evans. Are you sure you’re only twelve?”

Lily beams. “Mum likes to tune into the Sunday motivational-talk channels.”

(“The ones we love never really leave us, do they?” Sirius Black will tell you one day, when you’ve bared to him the truth of your lives, and he looks at you no differently than he has before—with all the adoration and fondness of his heart.)

Later, before you and Lily make your way back to the castle, you pick three flowers among the chicory weeds. She stays behind as you kneel by the riverside. For the children you have loved, and will continue to love for eternity. Droplets of tears fall onto the water, joining the floating blue petals. “I’m sorry that I cannot find you as you are,” you whisper, a heavy weight lifting from your shoulders. “But I hope that we meet again in this life, whichever names you may take.”

(After all, what love is stronger than one that perseveres across endless lifetimes?)

You carry them in your heart—letting cherished memories remain as such. Otherwise, you’ll be chasing what can never be again. It would be an injustice to their names to try and replicate a shallow imitation of them. They deserve more than that—to be treated like a pawn in Death’s game. They were alive and you will honor them befittingly.

You bid them goodbye and allow the tethers of their soul to untangle from your grasp.

It is the most difficult farewell—and yet, the easiest act of mercy you have ever carried out.

‘THE FLAP OF a butterfly’s wings can evoke a hurricane in the next world over.’

This is a phrase you’ve come to be familiar with over the span of your numerous lives. It has never been truer than the moment you step outside the infirmary to find a group of mismatched Gryffindors waiting for you in the halls. Their heads snap in attention at the sound of your footfalls. In an instant, you’re crowded with their questions and worries—but you find it endearing, the way your friends fuss over you. It’s certainly a welcome change from a past spent by your lonesome in the castle. (You only wonder what makes this life so different from the rest? Why is everything changing without you noticing? What will be taken from you for this deviation in time?)

“How did it go?” James asks, now seventeen and captain of the Quidditch team, wavy tendrils of brown hair swooping over his round glasses. The broad of his chest fills out his red and yellow jumper, crocheted by Lily over the yule break—the five of you, including Peter, Marlene, Mary, and Dorcas, have matching sweaters as well.

Except, you like to tease them with a jest that Lily made yours with the most love—as no one else had the pattern of a capybara with an apple on its head.

“Well enough,” you answer, patting his shoulder with a tired smile that reaches your eyes—for how could one not cheer up in the face of James Fleamont Potter? That would be saying the skies do not brighten in the company of the sun.

By incontestable decree of Poppy Pomfrey, the headstrong matron of the castle, you are required to meet with a mediwitch from St. Mungo’s twice a week, since the start of your fifth-year. Healer Robbins floos to Hogwarts on Wednesdays and Saturdays to check up on your health, physically and mentally. Of course, you don’t divulge anything about your time-traveling dilemmas, lest you end up confined to a hospital ward again for the rest of your years. But you do end up addressing—albeit, begrudgingly—the dried tear stains on your pillowcase every morning, your wayward habit of purposefully missing meals, or your tendency to withdraw yourself from your peers on certain days—which coincidentally happen to be the anniversary dates of your deaths. (If no one would grieve for you, then you’d do it alone.)

Who’d have thought that healing would be much more tortuous than hurting in the quietude of your room?

But one thing is for certain—this is a suffering you will endure with greed and hunger.

For today’s session, Healer Robbins suggests you proactively live in the present more—which is easier said than done.

“Although, she did tell me to stop slouching all the time,” you inform James, scrunching your nose in feigned offense, to which he replies with a hearty chuckle, pulling you into his embrace for a side hug. You burrow your nose in his scent of oakmoss and orris root, a lingering touch of broom polish as well—you feel the warmth of his hand splayed out on your back, and hide your grin into his chest.

“Well, someone had to tell you,” says Regulus Black with a scoff, arms crossed over his chest, yet no genuine heat in his trenchant eyes. He looks pleased that you return unharmed from your meeting with Healer Robbins. Funnily enough, you’ve no doubt that the famed Black temper would emerge should you utter so much as a single word against the mediwitch. (You like her, though. Some days, Robbins lovingly spiels about her clumsy-footed wife—and in return, you talk about your sad feelings. Eurgh. Talk about a fair exchange.)

Among the many divergences in this life, one of them is the unforeseen friendship you have forged with Regulus Arcturus Black. But that story begins with Xenophilius Lovegood, when you stumble upon him in the Forbidden Forest chasing after a family of bowtruckles with a fervid expression and a journal in one hand. You protect him from foul-mouthed Ravenclaws, and he allows you to tag along in his woodland escapades—including a lifelong access to the kitchens beyond curfew. His lack of regard for personal safety is both endearing and maddening, you realize early on. One stormy night, you chase Xenophilius into the forest—he is barefoot, following the Mooncalf hoofprints, as you spit out strings of expletives and mouthfuls of rain. That is where you find Regulus, groaning in pain and carrying a burden that is much too heavy for a fifteen-year-old.

Then, a year later, they decide to give you a heart-attack when you discover that Pandora and Xenophilius have taken Regulus under their wing—figuratively and literally. And, most of all, romantically.

You’re more speechless than Sirius had been when you catch him one fateful evening.

(“Don’t do it, Sirius Black,” you greet, startling the ebony-haired boy as you step out from the shadows. The common room is silent, save for the crackling embers in the fireplace. You stare at the sixteen-year-old with a vehement resolve, your hands curled into fists. If there is one fixed event you had to live through over and over again, it is the news of Severus Snape being nearly mauled to death by a creature so feared and gruesome. You will not let it happen in this life. His eyes flicker with shame amongst a sea of gray, and he knows that you know about his abhorrent idea of a ‘prank.’

You sigh, taking another step forward, hand coming to rest on his tense shoulder. “Let it go, Sirius. It’s not worth it. Bringing someone to harm is never worth it. If he dies, his blood will be on your hands—and you don’t want that, trust me. Be kind to him, Sirius—and even kinder to your brother. The two of you are all each other has.”

“Not true,” Sirius whispers back, almost afraid, his fingers tracing the curve of your cheeks. “I have you, Prongs, Lily, and Rem.”

“And Remus is exactly who we should be with right now,” you reply with a harsh glare. “Not in the common rooms trying to one-up Snape because of some childish rivalry.” With a long sigh and a shake of your head, you push back the dark curls from his face. “The times are cruel, Sirius. We must hold onto what we can.”

His forehead will fall onto your shoulder, and your shirt will be soaked with his tears, but you realize that you will hold him, and all those who’ve captured your heart, until Death himself pries you away from their embrace.)

But, it all pales in comparison to the horror in Sirius’s eyes when you point at Regulus and Peter, as you utter with absolute conviction, “They are my dearest friends.”

While Peter may have been a traitor in another life, a murderer with blood and guilt staining his hands—he is only a skittish boy in this one. A timid student who hides behind the shadows of his friends. You will not let him go down that path again. The Peter Pettigrew you currently know is a mousy little thing, pun intended, who sneaks in a pouch of sugared jelly worms in the library for you and him to enjoy whilst copying off each other’s Arithmancy homework—you two automatically get perfect marks, seeing as you’ve went through school multiple lifetimes already. Truthfully, when you see him tongue-tied before Mary Macdonald, you can’t envision anything else than a lifeless body and a man apologizing for his sins. But it is hardly fair to condemn Peter for the sins of a life he has not lived—and will never live through, if you have anything to say about.

A lion protects their pride, and that is what you shall do. Even if it tears you apart in the process. (Healer Robbins won’t be so pleased about that, though.)

But, perhaps, the most unexpected surprise you’ve received this year is—shockingly—not the news of Dorcas and Marlene dating, and neither is Alice and Frank’s relationship as you have already known that since your first life. It is James, Remus, Lily, and Sirius announcing to the world, with a poorly-written poem for a gnome to recite on Valentine’s Day—courtesy of James Potter himself—that the four of them are in love. In all five lives, that has never happened. Not even Lucius Malfoy can call into question the genuineness of their devotion to one another—and he will not dare to do so in your presence, otherwise he’d find himself at the mercy of you and Narcissa Black.

The four of them are happy as one, and you would die to ensure they stay together until the end of their time. Dark lords be damned.

An even bigger shock comes when their affection for each other unspokenly extends to you. Not in a manner that equals their rambunctious gestures—because the Marauders don’t do anything half-arsed. (And if they fall in love, they fall without fear.) But in a way that is quiet yet intense, ever-so mindful of your walls—with an intention to break them down slowly and only with your utmost permission. They leave you confused with each day that passes. (You fear that they think you pitiful for having not found a significant other.)

(For months now, your heart is set aflutter just by the sound of their voices—if they look at you as a token charity case, it would tear you apart.)

Forehead kisses, hand-holding in the corridors, late nights in the kitchen—tipsy on gillywater and the scathe of each other’s touch. Picnics by the lake, bodies intertwined where no one knows where they begin or end. Ventures in the library where not a soul is paying attention to the passages of their textbooks—hushed giggles turning into unrestrained laughter until Madam Pince rounds the corner and has you all thrown out. (How long has it been since you felt so free?) It’s the little things, like your fingers brushing against theirs as you walk side-by-side, or the soft glint in their eyes as they stare at you from across the room—as though you are a jewel to behold.

It is one thing to know that you are living a life after life—but it is another thing entirely to feel alive when they are nearby.

You are alive when Remus relaxes on the carpeted floor of the Gryffindor tower, and as you lay on the velvet couch, he draws protection runes on your palm with his finger. When he thinks you’re asleep, he presses a kiss to the back of your hand. When the nights are unbearably long and you find a safe haven in his embrace, and he in yours.

You are alive when James cages you in a bear hug after an intense Quidditch match against Slytherin, limp tendrils of hair clinging to his sweat-soaked skin, pressing a series of fervent kisses to the side of your head until his voice is louder than the cries of victory coming from the cheering stands.

(“Lay back down, James Fleamont Potter,” you command tersely as you push him onto the infirmary bed. You narrow your eyes at the bandages wrapped around his arms and neck, as though it’d personally wronged you. “Don’t even think about getting up,” you quickly add when you notice his droopy eyes staring at the doors—where Sirius, Remus, and Peter have gone off for a night of mischief. With an exaggerated sigh, James will roll his eyes before pulling you into the bed with him.)

You are alive when Lily scours the Great Hall in the mornings, hair fussed from sleep and her face bare, and when her eyes finally land on you—none misses the way she lights up blindingly, as if she were a poppy flower emerging from the forest floors and all her petals are curling towards the sun. She bounds over to you with a smile that draws everyone in the room to her. And your heart will have no choice but to swell three times its size when Lily falls asleep mid-meal, snoring with her neck bent and a spoon dangling from her mouth.

You are alive when Sirius dashes across the room to claim you as his Potions partner. He’ll spend the rest of the class with a triumphant grin on his face—sitting on a rickety chair as he lazily admires the view of your backside. And may the Gods help the poor soul who dares to question your work.

(“See that lovely creature over there?” Sirius will say with a dangerous lilt to his voice, pointing to you who’s quite busy squabbling with Severus and Barty Jr. over frog legs. “They will be the greatest apothecary to ever walk the wizarding world—so watch your tongue, mate.”)

They are your limbs, the blood in your veins—the ache in your heart. The fires of your soul. And when they are near, you are finally whole. (Healer Robbins certainly won’t like that, either—but this is a thought you shall selfishly keep for yourself.)

That is why you had come to a decision at the beginning of the year.

“I need to tell you all something,” you say, breaking out of your stupor and finally meeting everyone’s eyes. You meet Sirius’s gaze from where he leans against the wall, his attention on you—and only you. You reckon he notices the way you’re fidgeting nervously with your fingers, gnawing on your lip as you suck in a deep breath. It’s similar to the way he acted when he first told the group about his intentions to run away from his mother. Healer Robbins told you earlier to not dwell on the past—it’s only a thing that time-travelers do, she had said. You suppose there’s no better way to exercise honesty than to tell your loved ones about the secret you have been keeping for the last five lifetimes. You just hope they won’t look at you differently when all is said and done.

Marlene’s gaze worriedly flickers from you and to the infirmary doors. “Has the mediwitch said something?”

You shake your head. “There’s something you should know about me.”

Like a badly-written joke, a pack of lions, a snake, and a badger follows you into an empty classroom. They watch with furrowed brows as you cast a silencing charm over the room. You feel the weight of their curiosity as you take a seat in the center, drumming your nails on your lap as everyone moves to do the same. Remus wordlessly takes the seat next to you, as though being by your side is a natural phenomenon—like the shores never straying from the sand. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze and you return his kindness with a weary smile. You look at the protective circle that’s somehow formed around you. Marlene, Dorcas, Mary, Xenophilius, Regulus, Lily and the Marauders. (Since when did you gain a family like this in such a short time?)

“Where do I even begin?” you ask with a shuddery breath. “It might get a bit intense. . . and sad, and I wouldn’t want to overwhelm you. So it’s okay if you aren’t prepared to take this all in yet. I’d understand.”

“What one of us goes through, we all go through together,” Dorcas vows with her head high. “It’s not the first time we’ve done this, love,” she says, looking at everyone else in the room. “We’re here for you. Always have been. It’s what friends are for, aren’t they? You taught us that. Let us return the favor now.”

You laugh wetly, eyes crinkling with gratitude. “I suppose you’re right.”

There is no time like the present.

And if all goes awry, you probably might just jump out of a window and reset everything. (You wouldn’t, really. This life is precious to you more than anything in the world.)

You close your eyes and draw air into your lungs.

No time like the present.

“When I first died, I was only nineteen.” Despite the pinched expressions and soft gasps, you force the words out. You have to. Otherwise, the tale of your lives will be buried with you forever. This is the first time you have ever said the words aloud. It’s both exhilarating and terrifying. “Death Eaters came to Diagon Alley. It all happened so fast, next thing I knew the killing curse was cast straight at me.”

Regulus flinches, and you offer him an apologetic grimace.

“But that wasn’t the end,” you continue amidst their horrified wide-eyes—feeling Remus tighten his hold on your hand. You chuckle bitterly. “If it had been, maybe it all would’ve hurt less. When I woke up, I was back in the Gryffindor tower.”

“What?” Lily frowns as a shadow is cast over her eyes. “But how?”

“I wish I knew,” you reply with a lodge in your throat, eyes thick with incoming tears. “I really wish I knew. But I woke up back in Hogwarts. I was alive again. Somehow, someway, I was alive. But I was dying.” You shut your eyes, head craning to the ceilings as you swallow back a sob. “Have you felt what it’s like to be burnt alive? That’s what the killing curse is like. And I feel it everyday. When I told the nurses this, I was sent straight to St. Mungo’s. They could not heal what was not found in my body. They called me mad. And there was nothing I could do but believe them. It was like that until I died on an infirmary bed, leather straps around my wrists and legs, forbidden to leave the ward and feel even the sunlight on my face. I was deemed a threat to the others and myself.”

Lily beats you to the punch and cries into her hands—the harrowing sound torn from her throat. Mary, with her own stream of tears, pulls Lily into a hug.

“I-I told you it was ugly,” you say timidly, averting your gaze out of remorse. “We can stop here if you’d like.”

“We’re staying,” says Lily with a guttural edge to her words, eyes quickly growing red.

“Then, in my third life, I died by a. . . Greyback—it was Greyback who killed me.” You intertwine your fingers with Remus’s, who’s gone ashen from the reveal. “It’s alright.”

“The bloody hell do you mean it’s alright?” James bellows, running a hand through his hair as he tears himself from his seat, chest heaving up and down. “None of this is alright! How could you say that? We. . .We should tell Dumbledore or something—or anyone! This shouldn’t have happened to you—it’s just too cruel. . .”

“I know,” you acquiesce with a low hang of your head. “I know.”

Sirius exhales jaggedly. “Was that the last of it? Of your. . . your deaths?”

“No.” You stare at him with regret. “In my fourth life, I died in a Death Eater ambush.”

Xenophilius looks like he might faint any second.

“But in my fifth life, I met some people in the Muggle world,” you explain, remembering kind eyes and wide smiles, a family made in a home far away from magic and wars. “I loved them dearly. When I thought I was being punished by Gods, they gave me peace. They taught me unconditional love and I. . .” You let the tears drip onto your skirt. “I might never find them again, but I’ll never forget them for as long as I live. It was the only death given to me without pain.”

You watch as Lily’s doe-eyes flicker with realization. Three flowers in a watery grave.

“And here I am now. The end,” you say, forcing a crooked grin as you brush the dust off your school robes.

No one moves a muscle for the next few minutes.

You freeze in fear.

(Have you upset them? Do they see only a talking corpse now?)

The room is suffocatingly quiet and you can’t bear to see the pity or judgment in their eyes—so you run out of the room as though Death himself was hot on your heels.

They are right behind you—of course, they are. (Where a part of their soul goes, they will follow.)

“Are you angry?” You quietly ask, wrapping your arms around your waist—afraid to turn around and face them. “I would not blame you if you are.”

“No, not mad. Never.” Lily falls into place by your side, hovering but never stepping past your erected borders. “Maybe at the circumstances. It’s all so unfair. I’m. . . We’re just upset that you had to live through that all alone. To die over and over. I can’t imagine how much it must have hurt each time.”

You nod, swallowing the urge to crumble on the floor. “Then you’ll understand why. . . why you and I—all of us—I can’t be with you.”

Remus frowns, stepping forward to reach out to you. “What?”

“Don’t make this any harder than this has to be, please,” you beg, voice hoarse and hands trembling.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Sirius presses further, a bitter acid to his words. He looks frightened, almost—guilt instantly pools in your stomach.

“Don’t you see? Everything is changing!” You exclaim, grateful that you’ve chosen the abandoned corridors of the castle where no one dares to venture on a sunny day. “I can’t protect you if I don’t know what’s to happen next! I’d rather die again than let any of you get hurt.”

“Then don’t!” shouts James, veins straining against his neck, tears of his own glistening within his hazel eyes. “I would rather die than pretend none of what I feel—what we feel—for you isn’t real.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying, James,” you retort with a sharp scoff. “I’ve no need for a relationship that’s borne from pity or charity.”

“Pity?” Lily echoes incredulously. “You think I’ve confused love for pity? Is that how low you think of us? After all that we’ve been through?”

“Are you stupid?” Sirius bites back.

“Excuse me?” you shriek. “Must I spell it out for you? I’m trying to protect you! I am cursed!”

“Not anymore than I am!” Remus bellows with his fists tightly clenched, his canines laid bare and his cheeks lit ablaze. “If you’re cursed, I must be damned. Why can’t you allow yourself the same grace that you’ve given us?”

You wilt. “I can’t do it, Remus. I just can’t. If I die again, and everything resets—don’t you know how much it will kill me if we start as strangers again?”

Remus encases you in his warmth, an embrace that promises to keep you safe from all harm. (What good of a monster would he be if he can’t rip apart your fears for you?) “Then we will find you in that life. And every life after that. We’ll use a pensieve, or anything at all—just so we don’t forget.”

You melt in his arms, bathing in his scent of caraway and bergamot. You feel Remus placing a kiss on the crown of your head. “All these things I know. All these lives I’ve lived through. What if I ruin everything in this life?”

“Then do it,” Lily provokes stubbornly.

“Ruin me,” James pleads raspingly—a falter in his steps as though he’d get on his knees and beg in an instant just for you to stay with them. “Ruin me as much as you’d like. You would be the most beautiful devastation of my life.”

And so, you choose them.

For there was never any other option from the start.

YOU WAKE UP in the dead of the night, sunken in a mattress that is one too small for five people to fit in, leafy vines and fairy lights wrapped around the posters of the bed. Sometime during the night, Lily had thieved the wool blanket for herself. You rest in between her and Sirius, their snores echoing into your ears as the grasshoppers chirp outside. The potted plants will swing from the ceiling as the evening breeze passes by. (You’ll scold James in the morning for leaving the windows open again.) By your feet, is a fat Tabby cat with one eye named Tuna. (Full name: Tuna Belly.) There are moving pictures on the flower-plastered wall, a testament to the life you share—and the life you have fought hard for. Ruffled pillows are strewn across the carpeted floor. Parchments and notes lay askew on the desk table across the room—Remus’s jittery preparation for his first day next week as Hogwarts’s newest professor.

Remus will catch you wide awake and tuck you into his chest, murmuring, “Rest now. We’ve got an early morning tomorrow for Wormy’s wedding.”

You’ll hum and relinquish your thoughts for the night, holding onto James hand over Remus’s belly. “I love you,” you’ll whisper.

Remus will say it back without hesitation—and you know the others feel exactly the same.

Minutes later, the door will creak open and a tiny shadow will come crawling into the bed, knocking into everyone’s knees and stomach. It’s a little Harry who’s three years old now. He curls under your neck and you will hold him with all the love that six lifetimes can offer and more.

When you close your eyes, it is a comforting darkness that envelopes you.

(Somewhere in a castle beyond valleys and lakes, locked away in the dusty shelves of Dumbledore’s cupboards, sits a broken Time-Turner that finally stops ticking.)

a/n: i wrote the last 2k words like a woman posessed! LMAO. i have to be at training in 2 hours and i haven't prepared yet. tell me what you thought aaaaa!!!! and yes, your sixth life is your last life so u die happily and in peace mwah mwah. might continue this universe with drabbles, idk. if u spot any mistakes.. ignore it for a bit LMAO, i'll proofread this soon.

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just-some-random-blogger · 20 days ago

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Tormented Spirit | 8

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

"Is it such a sin to stand up for yourself?" you mutter as tears blur your vision. The way he reacted was visceral, instinctive even. "You never have to stand up for yourself ever again," says Daemon, reaching a hand to you, "come."

Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!Reader | 3k+ | cw: fem!reader, reader has brown hair, wife!reader, twin!Gwayne, arranged/forced marriage, canon divergence, alternate universe, slow burn, smut (piv, morning sex, come marking?, cock warming) DOWN BAD!DAEMON, DD:DNE, panic/anxiety attacks, daddy issues/child abuse/family problems, mentions/depictions of mental/physical/psychosomatic illness, ye old misogyny, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: this chapter became 6k+ words so i had to split it T_T. at least that means i'll be updating relatively faster lol. i hope you enjoy since all the fluff is here HAHAHAH and if you do, please leave a comment/reblog to let me know <3 <3 <3. once again, the high valyrian is internet translated, so it might be wrong. | cross posted on ao3

@arabellasleopardcoat @prettybiching

Otto nods as he passes a group of clergy members. He makes his way down the otherwise empty temple, eyes forward as he clutches a firm figurine in his hand. He grunts as he gets down on his knees in front of a fresco of the seven pointed star.

He lights three candles in front of him, saying three different names each time. He places the figurine he brought with him beside them. Of course, it wasn't a figurine but a woolen doll. He says another name, your name, then starts this prayers.

"Father, guard my family through this trying time, my son, my daughters... my daughter," he brushes the face of the doll then closes his eyes. "Stranger, put the souls of the departed Queen Aemma and Prince Baelon to rest.

"Warrior, strengthen my daughter and spare her and her unborn child from succumbing the same fate. Mother, grant her comfort and good health through her journey to motherhood. Crone, guide her and grant her good discernment, so that she may not fear the unknown. Maiden, preserve her beauty, her light."

He opens his eyes and stares at the point that represented the Smith. He grits his teeth before sighing in defeat, "Smith, fortifier... mender... I beg," he sighs, "mend her heart. Mend her body. I beseech you. Let not my prayer fall deaf on your ears any longer."

The candlelight before him glows as he waits another day for the answer to his decade old prayer.

Meanwhile, the candles in your room have long been put out, including the one you normally keep lit by your bed. You are first to rouse today, and yet you could not rise from bed, as you were pressed beneath the body of your husband. Daemon sighed contentedly on your chest, one arm and leg draped over you. You have never slept together (or so you think) so you figured that Daemon was probably moved a lot in his sleep, which is how you both ended up in this position.

You stare at the top of his head, continuing to brush through his silver hair. In truth, you did not want to rise. You wanted to stay in this peace, in this stillness. It would not last long, you knew it— you dreaded it.

Goosebumps form on your skin when you feel your husband's hand brush over your belly before hooking on to your hip. You begin to feel your heart race as you remember what your father told you the night before.

How could you tell him? How could you possibly tell Daemon that you were with child, when you knew he was so diligent in assuring you would not be? Was it even possible to carry his seed when he never finished inside you?

Against yourself, you remember the day you caught Gwayne kissing a lady behind a curtain, and how you attacked him because you thought he had gotten her pregnant. The poor girl ran away as you beat your twin, and Gwyane defended himself, saying that's not how you do it. You did not know any better, so you told him you did not believe him and nearly forced him to go to your father to announce you would be marrying the lady. He, in turn had to explain what he knew, to both your horror.

You were no fool to believe the words of your stupid twin, so you made it your mission to find out the truth. After sneaking books from the Citadel itself, you read many a book only to find out your twin was telling you the truth.

That was why dread rippled across your skin, for could there ever be a world where Daemon purposefully pulled out and is not angered by this news, where he does not accuse you of infidelity?

You go between worry and peace as you brush your fingers across the prince's skin. You try to convince yourself that all will be well, but each time you do, another part of your mind raises that nothing's ever been well with you. You decide then, even if just for this moment, you will pretend the calmness of your husband will remain.

But the world is cruel, for at this same moment, Daemon awakens.

He stirs with a groan, face rubbing against your sternum. The robe you had on was no longer covering your chest. Your heart races as he looks up at you, his violet eyes still sleepy, "sȳz ñāqes."

You do not understand, but you assume it means good morning, and so you say, "good morning."

Daemon sighs as he pushes himself up, removing his pants. You tense as he comes atop you and kisses your neck. He nudges your head to the side with his own and soon, he pushes your legs apart with his knees.

Your hands come to his hip bones, where you then dig your nails in, making him groan. You whimper when you feel him grind his groin into yours. He is half-hard.

"Sesīr isse ñuha ēdrugon, jaelan ao." Even in my sleep, I want you.

You whimper yet again when he begins to rock against you, digging your nails deeper into him.

"Gīda ilagon," he mutters as he fully parts your robe, repeating in common tongue, "calm down."

You are taken aback by how he pecks your lips once before kissing your neck again.

"Dreamt about fucking your pretty cunny," he mutters lowly between kisses, "wanna make it real."

His words make you ache and throb. In a way, you were comforted by the thought Daemon wanted you, even if it was just your body. You close your eyes and let yourself relax. You sigh against his ear, nuzzling into his shoulder, and brush your hand up his back. As your hands trail to his biceps, his skin breaks out with gooseflesh and a high pitched whimper leaves his lips.

"Fuuuuuuck," he whines out rather pathetically.

There is a languidness to his movements unlike you've ever experienced. His normally brash and pointed demeanor is soft and gentle, his kisses even more so. There is no sense of urgency whatsoever as he rolls his hips against you. If you didn't know any better, you would have believed that he wanted to savor the moment.

He did. He wanted to savor your body, as dreaming of it had him feeling some indistinguishable way. You would never know this though, for he would never tell you.

By the time, you've become shaky and your cunt was absolutely sopping wet because of Daemon's now fully hard cock rubbing up against it, he finally pushes into you, drawing out a deep groan from your throat. You tighten your legs and arms around him and your teeth sink into his shoulder.

Daemon grips your thighs as he thrusts into you. He barely pulls out, seemingly determined to go deeper and deeper each time, wanting— needing to be pressed flush into you. His hands sneak beneath you, fingers raking up your shoulder blades to your nape before tangling into your brown hair. He breathes heavily against your ear as your bodies grow hotter and hotter.

You both remain in this snug position, doing this constricted dance until your bellies begin to burn. He doesn't speed up at all or pull out any more than he already has. You feel your body begin to tense and your climax begin to build, and then, just then, a spirit overcomes Daemon.

The next moment, he has his hand on your jaw, forcing your head back. Just as you reach your peak, he pulls out and thrusts his wet cock on your slick fold, once, twice, until his hard member is soft and twitching. His load shoots out up to your chest and sputters down on your belly, garnering a surprised gasp from you. It's hot and viscous against your skin and you wonder what it would have felt like had he released in you. There's so much of it too.

"Fuck, fuck, fu-" Daemon repeats, thinking the exact same thing you were.

You expect him to roll over, because there is no way he wouldn't after soiling you, but you gasp yet again as he comes crashing down on you, skin sticking with a squelch.

He is arrested by your warmth and wants nothing but to plunge into you again. So, in his greed, he grabs his still twitching cock and pushes it into you, releasing a long and throaty groan as he does so. It makes you tremble and whimper his name. You were not expecting the intrusion, so you brush your cheek against his, hoping he understands to give you a moment of repose before going again.

After a while, though you still felt tender from your orgasm, you brush your cheek against him once more, signaling you were ready for him again.

He does the strangest thing however, and simply brushes his cheek back. He pulls his head back, looking down at you, "litse riña." Pretty girl.

You notice the softness of his violet eyes and knit your brows at it. He is so overwhelming you cannot help but kiss him. There was still remnants of morning breath in your mouths, but neither of you cared.

Daemon is loathed to have you pull away. He leans into your touch as you brush his unruly hair back. You slowly shake your head, "I do not understand, my prince."

"iksā sīr rāpa se bāne," you are so soft and warm. He brushes your noses together, "ñuha ābrazȳrys," my wife.

A line forms between your brows at the foreign tongue. You wait for him to translate as he brings his hand to your cheek. He stares at you for a long moment, thumb brushing your skin.

He makes no attempt to decode the High Valyrian for you, and soon, a knock comes upon your door.

Daemon is instantly irritated as he glares over his shoulder, muttering, "who the fuck is that?"

"My servants. I-"

Before you could even finish, your two servant girls are waking in, and Daemon watches them as they head for your bathroom, horribly and painfully unaware of him. He waits for them to reemerge, and the moment they do, he is instantly screaming, "FUCK OFF, CUNTS! THE DOOR'S CLOSED FOR A REASON."

You hear their gasps, squeals, and apologies before scurrying off, slamming the door behind them as they did.

Instantly, yet again, Daemon relaxes and nuzzles against your neck.

"D-Daemon," you whisper, sinking your fingers into his long hair, "they normally wake me up at-"

"I don't give a fuck," he quips, tightening his hold on you, "they'll know better now."

You clench your jaw and sigh, making mental note to apologize to your girls for the prince's actions.

You begin to doze off, as does Daemon in all his gluttonous glory. The two of you stay in bed until lunch time, which is far longer than you've ever personally stayed.

Arryk, who had been stationed outside your door for a while now, is concerned by this. He raps at the entrance to your room and calls your name. When he receives no response, he peaks inside and inspects the stillness of it all. Unnerved by the idea you were sleeping in, he thinks the worse and walks in, calling your name again. His breath is forced down his throat when he sees the flash of white hair on the bed. He sees a hand rub down a toned back and he immediately reels back, quiet and as quick as he possibly can.

You wake the second time because of the growling of your stomach. It is loud and painful, so much so, it wakes your husband.

He groans, brushing his nose against you, "hungry?"

You huff, craning your neck to look at him, finding his closed eyes, "clearly, I'm starving."

A rich chuckle rumbles from his chest. He opens his eyes and they twinkle with mischief, "I could feed you something meaty."

Your face contorts, "I do not think you'd want me to bite your cock, my prince."

Daemon laughs, hard enough to fully awaken him. He wheezes, and rolls of your chest, "I did-" sigh, "not say it was-" wheeze, "my cock."

You hum, "oh, of course not. Apologies."

Your sarcasm only maddens him further into amusement.

You take this as a chance to wriggle away from him, and so you do. The semen still on your skin is tepid and pasty as it smears against your chests. Your robe is completely lose as you come to a stand. You decide not to dirty your garment with Daemon's seed by covering yourself, so you head for the bathroom with your robe open.

You gasp at the swiftness of how your are grabbed and pulled back. Your body collides into Daemon's chest. Your care for your satin robe if for naught, because it sticks on his come anyway. Daemon's is hypnotized by your scent. He is quick to brush your hair over shoulder and mumble against your nape, "you wound me with your eagerness to flee me, wife."

His hands come to squeeze your breasts and you whimper as you turn to him. You knit your brows and pout, "that is not true."

"No?" he says a little louder than he ought as his emotions slightly get ahead of him, "are you not running from me this moment?"

You frown and fully face him, having to peel your robe off his chest as you do, "I'm simply going to bathe." You stare at his chest, "you've made a mess of me."

Daemon tilts his head, "not nearly enough, in my opinion."

You find the self-satisfied grin on his face, "you should too bathe with me."

"Mmm, well then," he takes your hand, "bathe we shall."

The water that your servants had brought was now cold, but you both made do with what you had. Daemon is simultaneously unsurprised and taken aback by how you tend to him first, he does not know why. You've bathed him once before, and yet it somehow feels different. You scrub his chest with cloth and inspire him to do the same for you. You lean into his touch as he washes you off, and it makes his stomach roll.

He takes a good look at you, your skin, the marks he left on it, your nose, your knees, your hair, everything, and he cannot believe something so... so immaculate, so resplendent could be borne from a man so detestable.

"You are not your father's daughter," he says so casually.

You look up at him, freezing because of his random sentiment.

"You are the gods promise to me. A woman made to sate my fire."

Your brows knit at his words. You tilt your head and it makes him nearly goes mad. How darling you ask, "I sate your fire?"

He hums and pulls you into him, kissing your arm as he did, "stoke, perhaps, is truer."

Your breath hitches when he brings you to his lap. He sighs as he feels your flesh against his, it wont be long until he's hard all over again. He licks a stripe up your left breast, "I am, in fact, insatiable."

Your heart races and he peppers kisses up your neck. You lean your forehead against his after kissing your lips. You whisper in earnest, "I will try."

Daemon pulls back, hands coming to your neck as he looks at you.

"I will try to sate you."

Fuck. The thought should have made him laugh, but it doesn't. It makes him burn. He cannot say anything, for his mouth seeks yours. He kisses your lips and you two sequentially spend another hour or so turning the water warm as it splashes all over the floor.

You're antsy and eager to feast by the end of it all.

You help each other get dressed, and Daemon finds the way you hastily button his doublet ever-so-endearing. When it's his turn to help, he shushes you and rubs your shoulders before securing your corset from behind, "your food will not fly off the window."

You rub your aching stomach, "I pray it flies into my mouth soon."

He snickers as he finishes tying your laces.

You quickly run towards the vanity and hastily begin to brush your still damp hair.

He watches bounce your leg and the faintest of smiles graces his lips. He watches your chest begin to rise and fall rather quickly, and soon his brows furrow. He walks up behind you, "aeritta run." Restless thing.

He takes your hand and your jaw, but it is unlike most times he does so. His touch is gentle. He does not force you to do hand your brush or look forward, but you do. You look at each other from the mirror; your chest continues to heave.

"Paez ilagon," Daemon enunciates, "say it for me, won't you?"

Your brows furrow in slight confusion. You release a breath, "pez ilegon."

"Paez," he corrects.

"Paez."

"Good," he nods, "ilagon."

"Il... Ilagon."

"Rōvēgrior," Daemon leans in and mumbles against your temple, "excellent. Now..." he kisses your temple, "once more: paez ilagon."

You take a breath, doing your best to mimic his accent, "pa...ez i- ... lagon."

"Arlī," again, he motions with his pointer, "speak confidently."

"Daemon."

"You can do it," he tilts his head at your reflection, "paez ilagon."

You sigh and nod your head, "paez ilagon."

His violet eyes twinkle, "rōvēgrior," excellent, he claps his hands, "spoken like a true Valyrian."

You turn to him, breath hitching at the sight of his smile, "wha-"

Daemon takes your face and makes you turn forward.

You look at his reflection and grip your skirt, fearing you'd upset him. But then he begins to style your hair and your butterflies overcome your belly. You try to ignore the thump of your heart by clearing your throat, "what d-does it mean?"

"Paez ilagon is slow down."

"Ahhh," your jaw drops in slight embarrassment, "I see."

Daemon points, "hand me your pin."

You get the hair pin on the vanity and hand it over, "and the other one?"

"Hmm?"

"Ro... roz- rovevegregor."

Daemon tilts his head as he chuckles through his nostrils, a soft smile remaining on his face as he finishes securing your hair in a similar manner he does himself.

You witness all of this and your heart skips a beat.

"Rōvēgrior," he repeats, "try to roll your tongue."

"..."

"Go on."

"RRRRozeofoieve-"

He laughs and takes a hair tie from the table. He quickly does his own hair then takes you by the hand. He ushers you to the door as he continues to chuckle, "we should get you something to eat. You should ill."

You are hypnotized by his melodic laugh. You don't dare interrupt it, so you whisper under your breath, mostly to yourself, "but what does it mean?"

"Excellent," he says, hearing your whisper. He opens the door for you, "it means excellent, gevie."

You do not notice Arryk as you exit your chambers, "but what about that?"

Daemon does not notice him either, "what?"

"Ge- gevie?"

"Gevie?" he repeats.

You nod.

Arryk bows and greets you, "princess."

You turn to him as he bows again, "my prince."

Daemon does not spare him a glance. Beautiful, it meant, but he instead tells you, "it is a secret."

You do not respond to Daemon, but he does not mind. He is fully content to stare at you. You smile at your ward, taking a second to guess who it is, "good morn, ser. Are you... Erryk?"

Arryk examines you, finally breathing a sigh of relief to know you are unharmed. He is also glad to see you are not dressed in attire that... exposes the good works of your husband. In the same second, he notices your said husband, and how keenly is gaze is set upon your beaming form. He clenches his jaw, "nay, your grace. Neither am I my brother, nor is it morning."

"Oh," you purse your lips, "my apologies, dear Arryk."

Daemon quickly pulled out of his haze, raising a brow at dear Arryk, "you may go."

Arryk turns to him.

"I will keep my wife company today," he says, wasting no more time in idle chatter, taking you by the hand.

You both walk off and you offer Arryk a smile and nod in regard.

Arryk clenches his jaw but forces himself to smile back at you. He is uneasy by the prospect, knowing how fickle and volatile Daemon can become regarding you. He stares at your joined hands as you walk away, deciding to trust the prince for your sake.

#daemon fanfic #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen #daemon x reader #daemon targaryen fanfic #daemon smut #daemon targaryen smut #daemon fluff #daemon targaryen fluff #house of the dragon fanfic #house of the dragon smut #hotd fanfic #hotd smut #daemon angst #daemon targaryen angst #daemon #daemon targeryan #house of the dragon

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fungusgnat444 · 5 months ago

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König tropes I want to burn with hell fire

sorry for this unprompted rant but some of you guys are starting to ruin my favourite comfort character (CW mentions of noncon/r*pe, mentions of xenophobia, mentions of n*zis, general problematic behaviour, mentions of bad disability/mental health representation)

-1. Casual xenophobia- I’ve lost count of the amount of content that depicts König as a n*zi and I kinda feel like I shouldn’t have to tell you why that’s not ok. These things should not be fetishised and doing this is overall just super ignorant. That’s probably the worst instance of this kind of things but there are a ton of examples. Like a lot of people seem to think that every German speaking country is exactly the same. And to codify him as a German speaker everyone seems to think they can just slap on whatever offensive stereotype they want. As someone who has visited German speaking countries multiple times and knows native German speakers personally, believe it or not not all German men are rude, humourless, cruel, alcoholic perverts who treat women like shit and have a bunch of super fucked up kinks and no understanding of consent. If any of you had ever met someone from this part of the world you’d know that in general they are very polite and friendly people. If you want to use a stereotype there are plenty that aren’t offensive and ignorant that could be fun character quirks (eg. Germans always having to have the windows open, having a sweet tooth, having three different drinks with breakfast (water for hydration, coffee for energy, juice for nutrition. Trust me it’s a whole thing lol), being obsessed with always being on time (also works because he’s in the military) etc.). Like please at least try to be a little respectful. And if you’re going to show him speaking German at least learn the basics. Duolingo is free lol.

2 mental health/disabilities- as someone who actually has autism I think it’s kinda cool that some people have written him as autistic or having adhd etc. but if you’re going to do this can you please just do a little research so you get the symptoms right and not over generalise. Like autistic people can in fact understand humour and sarcasm most of the time we’re not robots. It’s 2024 like can we stop this trope please. A lot of people write him having anxiety or ptsd, which again I think is super cool but it’s often used as an excuse for him being aggressive/violent. Like this isn’t cute, if someone is treating you like this regardless of if they struggle with mental health or not there’s never an excuse for violence.

3 r*pe/non con- this point is kinda about fanfic in general but I see it a lot with könig especially. People need to understand the difference between a cnc kink and just plain assault. Cnc is a consensual agreement with safe words and boundaries and aftercare and mutual enjoyment. What most of these fics say is cnc is literally just him being a sexual predator. For a lot of people this is super triggering and romanticising r*pe is just disgusting.

again sorry for the rant guys but I really just needed to get this off my chest. Like this stuff has gotten in the way of my own writing and is really starting to ruin the appeal of his character. Like I beg of you can someone please write something where he’s just a sweet anxious Austrian guy who’s kind and respectful despite his reputation? Like I really don’t think I’m asking for much.

#konig #cod konig #konig call of duty #konig headcanons #konig imagine #konig x you #cod mw2 #konig cod #konig fanfiction #konig mw2

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siffrinsfrozendreams · 1 month ago

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woag... chapter two of my "oneshot"??? I was. convinced. to continue. so ITS GOING TO BE A FULL FIC NOW-

CHAPTER TWO OF MEMORY OF BACK IN THE BLINDING BUILDING AGAIN!!!

Note: This entire fic will be depicting and describing various mental health issues and struggles. This is not a light fic. this chapter's CWs: Spiraling, suicidal thoughts, general bad mental health

(based/inspired by this Tumblr post!)

#in stars and time #isat #isat spoilers #isat act 6 secret encounter spoilers #isat siffrin #isat fanfic #siffhunt speaks

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lux1fer · 6 months ago

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oopsies i forgot to show you guys the finished product of this yeah a few weeks ago the rp actually finished completely. im really happy with how this animatic came out and id definitely be willing to finish it. itd definitely take me a year at the least though this rp means the world to me. im gonna be emotional for a second sorry folks but like i havent had this much fun in a roleplay since my old warrior cat rp days- even then they were never as good as this one was. none gave me this much whimsy a thank you to @interncontinental for hosting this amazing rp. you're awesome /gen anyways, timestamps below ! this is gonna be. another wall of text.Again. so cw for text wall if ur prone to seizures caused by text. ive tried spacing the text out to help but it's probably still pretty bad, so forewarning !

0:00 ink and error (alongside many others) are trapped in this safehouse(the multiverse outside it is collapsing) which. as the name depicts. keeps them safe the safehouse has a dome surrounding it that's miles thick with concrete, metal, all that 0:13 error REALLY does not like being trapped here, so he tried breaking through the walls with his blasters 0:26 ink attempts to convince him not to (as it is against the rules to break the walls) but error doesn't listen. they have a big fight and error ends up breaking the dome's outer layer- which is what essentially lights up the entire place, and gives the illusion they're on earth. 0:51 he, alongside ink, are sent to a dungeon as punishment. (they end up making a friend there) and they use the owner of the dome's aunt to bribe him into letting everyone out. 1:17 error and the owner end up having a private discussion, in which error realizes the owner- the guy he DESPISED, was exactly like him. they both killed multiverses. they both killed people for fun. 1:22 he ends up having a fight with his own morals, before deciding he'd change for the better. 1:29 error frees the owner's aunt in exchange for the freedom of the people locked in the dungeon with him. 1:42 while he's walking out of the dungeon, he apologizes to ink for everything he's done 1:45 error walks back to his room and cries. 1:48 ink ends up pushing a chocolate bar with a note on it through the crook at the bottom of error's door the note says he forgives him. error cries again because of it. 1:51 ink and error end up hugging

1:52 eventually, ink realizes that he's run out of his lil emotion vials due to the corruption of the multiverse, which is an issue ! 1:59 due to ink's rapidly decaying health, error decides to give up half of his soul to save the guy from going kaput! this causes even more issues 2:04 nightmare- who had come to the safehouse, decides to mess with error's mind. he convinces him to get back into his old habits, under the pretense that he's weak and pathetic otherwise. error believes this. (also nightmare was redesigned by a friend of mine- her name is al! she doesnt have tumblr i dont believe though so raghh i cant ping her) 2:17 in what can only be described as a mental breakdown, error attempts to take back the half of his soul he gave to ink 2:30 error hesitates- he doesn't truly want to hurt ink, though he's not too sure why. 2:36 (its not on screen cus i couldn't fit it) error decides to capture and attempt to kill pj and gradient (who are here too!) instead, but this backfires as ink was no longer captured. ink knocks him out with his brush. 2:42 the corruption, which had been kept safely outside of the safehouse, has crept in due to corrupted individuals entering the dome. this forces everyone to escape through a previously blocked up exit the owner had built. 2:44 huge timeskip- essentially, the place they had found to live in after fleeing caught on fire, forcing everyone to run away Again! 2:46 in the new new place they had escaped to, the corruption Also arrived! the location was a cloud castle that floated above an ocean. which was quickly corrupting. the castle collapses, and floods with corrupted water. this scene needs a LOT of context-- the bandaged character by the name of blaze (owned by @teyvawni by the way go check out his stuff) arrived to the safehouse a while ago, with his brother following suit. said brother was corrupted. fresh, paperjam, and gradient were nearby when they arrived, and upon seeing the corrupted individual, fresh decided to commit Murder! this obviously upsets blaze, and he ends up killing both fresh AND pj and gradient- pj and gradient's death being present here. ink is watching 2:47 hinto, who is one of, if not the only friend error made in this roleplay ends up getting brutally murdered. this scene depicts him dying in error's embrace (you will see these two a lot whenever i draw this rp. i love them so much) 2:49 after the cloud castle collapses, they escape to what is essentially just error's void except everything is fluffy everyone present was given a choice- the universe was resetting, as the corruption had completely taken over Everything. including universes seperate from utau. you either stay awake for the 3 trillion years it took to completely reset the entire universe, or you sleep. considering error's friend was now a ghost and he didnt want to waste this time sleeping without spending time with his best friend, he chooses to stay awake for the entire 3 trillion years. 2:51 after those 3 trillion years, error is reasonably Exhausted. everyone else is exploring this new place they arrived in, while he is simply sitting in the corner and observing. he can only really stand speaking with hinto as he watches everyone else bicker and do whatever. 2:52 after error Brutally murders the person who killed hinto (this is not included in the animatic), error, ink, and dream are speaking to eachother in a nearby bamboo forest. nightmare interrupts and attacks ink with dust tagging along. big fight occurs, error and ink are mortally wounded, and are probably hashtag Screwed! 2:56 in a last ditch effort to save the people he cares about, error decides to sacrifice the half of his soul still left to save ink from dying.

soo Yeah! thats it! if this gets like. 20 notes im gunna make a comic based off of this. this isnt to incentivize people to like or reblog (Though that would be pretty swag of you ,, flutters my eyelashes) i just want an excuse :3 ill probably do it either way. eventually

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wangxianficfinder · 1 year ago

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In the mood for...

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1. Tw noncon Can someone write a fic of wen Ning getting gangraped by Jin disciples in front of wen qing as revenge for what the other wens did?

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2. Can you recommend any fics with Wen Ning as a POV character?

In My Defence, I Have None (For Never Leaving Well Enough Alone) by SemiLocalCryptid (T, 73k, wangxian, Time Travel Fix-It, Established Relationship, BAMF WWX, BAMF LWJ, POV NHS, but only for the first chapter, POV Alternating, between Wei WuXian and Lan WangJi for the rest, WWX may have no sense of self preservation but he does have a husband, No one touches LWJ's husband, NHS has no more fucks to give and will save his brother just watch him, WN is very confused about needing to breathe again, but is ultimately happy about it, BAMF WN, WN needs a hug, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, WQ is a queen and everyone should fear her, Fluff, Inventor WWX, Gratuitous amounts of Wangxian fluff, WIP) wen ning is a pov character here

The Moon Reflected Upon Two Springs by Rubberduckieassassin (M, 2k, Post-Canon, Fierce Corpse wn, WN-centric, Farmer WN, WN Needs a Hug, Gūsū Lán Juniors Dynamics, Good Kid LSZ, Good Kid LJY, Wen Remnants Mentioned, Burial Mounds Settlement Days Mentioned, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Five Stages of Grief, Melancholy, Building A Home, Family Feels, W>N is learning how to 'live' again)

waiting (when the colors come) by frostferox (G, 2k, WN/WWX/LWJ, Modern, realizing polyam might be an option, Domesticity, Friendship)

Granny Knows Best by The_Snarkivist (T, 5k, OYZZ/WN, JL/LSZ, Getting Together, Fluff, Accidental Elderly Acquisition, WN Centric, Let Wen Ning Be Happy Agenda, Happy Ending, fast burn, Granny does know best, POV WN, Post-Canon)

Fierce Friends by TumblingTroublesomeTumbleweeds (G, 32k, NMJ & WN; SL & WN, NMJ & SL & WN, NMJ/LXC, SL/XXC, JC/WN, Friendship, Give Wēn Níng Friends, Cinnamon Roll WN, Rabbits, NMJ’s body does NOT cooperate, WN Centric, Everyone loves WN, Dysfunctional Family, Found Family, Idiots in Love, Mutual Pining, Graphic Depictions of Pining, heart eyes motherfucker, WIP) it switches though

This Time With Confidence. by INSPIRETOWRITE (T, 129k, LWJ/WWX/WN, Eventual Romance, Fluff, Angst, Time Travel Fix-It, Action/Adventure, Polyamory, Developing Relationship, LWJ has feelings, Cute, Blood and Gore, Cultivation Sect Politics, Demonic Cultivation, Pining, WN-centric, Rabbits, POV Multiple, Action, War, Battle, Eventual Happy Ending, Developing Friendships, WN is a cinnamon roll, Bad-ass WN, WWX has feelings, They don't know they have the same feeling until later, Cultivation Discussion Conferences, POV WN, Slow Burn, WIP)

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3. Hello! Could I ask, for the next ITMF for fics where wwx experiences qi deviation of some kind? Thank you very much!

Twelve Moons and a Fortnight by stiltonbasket (M, 290k, WangXian, Humor, Slow Burn, Post-Canon Fix-It, Long-Distance Relationship, Epistolary, Love Letters, Family Feels, a-qing lives, teenage romance, Adoption, Romantic Comedy, Happy Ending, Weddings, Case Fic, Parenthood, Politics)

Confrontation by LtLJ (G, 21k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, discussion of a canon suicide attempt, breaks from canon during the timeskip, BAMF WWX, BAMF Everybody, Canon-Typical Violence, JC &WWX Reconciliation, BAMF NHS, BAMF JC, BAMF LWJ, YLLZ WWX, Complicated Relationships, canon-typical curses, Canon-Typical Behavior) It is part 4 of a series so it makes more sense to start with the first one which is Brotherhood

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4. CW: Trauma

Good day! I saw "Life as a house" by Terri Botta from the previous ITMF. I gave it a shot and read it, it is well written and I enjoyed the process of how they recover from their trauma, the reconciliation, and everything. For the next ITMF, do you guys know any fic that is close to this fic? Similar in terms of their journey to heal from their past/trauma, from seeing psychiatrist, discussing mental health, or about therapy. @httpskaixx

总有一天; a place to hide (can’t find one near) by yiqie (E, 76k, WangXian, Modern AU, Pianist, Getting Together, Mental Health Issues, Suicide Attempt, Suicidal Thoughts, Depression, Hospitals, Overdosing, Eventual Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Additional Warnings In Author's Note)

Many happy returns. by orange_crushed (E, 25k, WangXian, Modern AU, Mistaken Identity, Misunderstandings, Grief/Mourning, Loss of Parent(s), Implied/Referenced Suicide, Past Suicide of a Parent, References to Depression, Anxiety, Therapy, References to Anti-Depressant Medications, Escort Service, Loneliness, Everybody’s Abandonment Issues, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Domestic Fluff, Moving In Together, Oral Sex, Penetrative Sex, Hopeful Ending, Recovery, References to Escorting/Sex Work but No Actual Escorting/Sex Work)

~*~

5. Want recommendations for slow burn angsty stories of wangxian

Concord by Deastar (T, 41k, WangXian, Arranged Marriage, Gūsū Lán Sect Rules, Depression, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending)

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6. Hi! ITMF wangxian cuddle porn or just lwj being so comforting for wwx and vice versa. It would be amazing if that was incorporated in longer fics though anything would be welcomed. Something for reference is “A Cyborg's Three Laws” by FairyGardenCorgis and “try a little tenderness” by ilip13. Thank you so much!

Just Ask Me To Stay by mrcformoso (M, 20k, WangXian, Modern AU, Former JZ/WWX, Minor NieLan, Minor XuanLi, No Powers, Dancer WWX, Musician LWJ, Roommates, Best Friends, Friends to Lovers, Break Up, Post-Break Up, Recovery, WWX Has Self-Esteem Issues, Fluff, Light Angst, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Oral Sex, Domestic Fluff, LWJ Has a Big Dick, WWX Has a Breeding Kink, Size Queen WWX, Belly Bulge, Porn With Plot, WWX Has Friends, LWJ Has Friends, Hurt/Comfort, A lot of comfort, Romantic Comedy, Cuter story than the summary makes it out to be, Feel-good) modern!AU cuddly lwx cheering post-breakup wwx

The Art of Communication by mrcformoso (G, 4k, WangXian, Modern AU, College/University, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Meet-Cute, Engineering Student WWX, Music Student LWJ, Swimmer WWX, Martial Artist LWJ, POV Outsider, POV WWX, POV LWJ, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Communication Issues, But Wanxian Makes it Work, LWJ has limited words, WWX has too many words, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Love Confessions, Love Languages, Requited Love) ModernAU! Soft Wangxian where they make their communication issues work

~*~

7. Hello again! I want to ask for a itmf about powerhouse wwx, inspired from this post

More detailed: The Scene with the water ghouls, wwx proposes to jump in the water (bc hes just that strong) in combination with lwjs thoughts and competency kink? Please? I hope that was understandable, English isn‘t my first language, sorry. @desperation-is-my-middle-name

Truth Will Out (when caught on video) - End_OTW_Racism! by KizuKatana (E, 108k, wangxian, WN & WWX & WQ, graphic depictions of violence, modern cultivation, canon divergence, YZY abuses WWX , caught on camera, partial core removal, WWX kicked out of Jiang sect, livestreamer WWX, meet ugly, dual cultivation, smut, no war, WIP)

My chain hits my chest/When I’m bangin’ on the radio by x_los (T, 2k, wangxian, modern w/ magic, case fic, competence kink, YLLZ WWX)

Howling by MimiSpearmint (E, 40k, wangxian, LSZ & WWX, Modern with Magic, Mortal Instruments Fusion, Horror, Eldritch, Domestic Fluff, Single Parent WWX, Witchcraft, Northern Ireland, fluffy but I cannot emphasise how much horror there will be, Celtic Mythology & Folklore, Case Fic, Getting Together, shifter lwj, yllz wwx, Intercrural Sex, Hand Jobs, Angst with a Happy Ending, playing fast and loose with canon, off-screen beloved character death, Switch wangxian, a bit of a degradation kink, anti-STI sex talismans, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Cameos by various characters)

hills and rivers by LtLJ (T, 56k, wangxian, Post-Canon, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Domestic Fluff, Family Feels, Canon-Typical Violence, the family that hunts demons together stays together, and doesn’t murder each other, Case Fic, BAMF WWX, Mojo’s post)

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8. itmf some good ol' damsel in distress lwj @jawla-mukhi

silk threads and precious metal by Sevidri (M, 4k, WangXian, Canon-Typical Violence, Sunshot Campaign, Whump, Blood and Injury, WWX' Canonical Vengeful Streak, LWJ Makes A Beautiful Damsel in Distress, Non-Consensual Ribbon Touching, Protective wwx, Hurt LWJ)

Vagabond by xantissa (E, 65k, wangxian, Slow Burn, Mystery, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Frottage, Case Fic, murders, Supernatural, Angst, Fluff, those two are so in love it hurts, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, badass LXC, Canon-Typical Violence, topLWJ, Bottom LWJ)

~*~

9. Itmf time travel fics where Wei Wuxian is caught in a time loop reliving the Sunshot Campaign and ensuing Burial Mounds years over and over until he can save everyone? Thank you!

Karma by English is my death (Lena013) (T, 2k, JGY/XY/WWX, wangxian, LXC/JGY, XY/XXC, Time Loop, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Misfortune Fellows, JGY & WWX Friendship, JGY & XY Friendship, WWX & XY Friendship, (but they all hate each other), White-Haired WWX, But temporarily, XY is a Brat, XY Is A Little Shit, POV JGY, YLLZ WWX, Drama, Drabble, Humor, Immortal WWX, Immortal XY, Immortal JGY, These are cut pieces from their eternity together, By this point they had become insane)

~*~

10. Hi! I was hoping you could help me bc I was on Twitter & saw someone else mention that they wanted to read it but I was hoping that you had any fics where YLLZ!WWX time travels to the future? (Possibly ends up shtupping himself along the way.) I can’t remember if there are any besides ‘a tide between two seas’ but I know that’s more multi-verse travel! @arisuamichan

不忘 | Don’t Forget by dragongirlG (E, 50k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Time Travel, Reincarnation, Fix-It of Sorts, Identity Porn, Social Media, Devotion, Reunions, Feelings, Family, Angst with a Happy Ending, Light Bondage, Names, References to Canon, Modern Era, Artist WWX, Sexual Content, Pining, POV Multiple, Additional Warnings In Author’s Note)

忘不了你的爱 (can’t forget your love) by PorcupineGirl (G, 25k, WangXian, Time Travel, Modern with Magic, Modern Cultivators AU, Canon Divergence, Time Traveler WWX, discussion of canonical character deaths, a whole lot of handwaving, conveniently localized fires, Discussion of Canonical Suicide Attempt, mostly happy but slightly bittersweet ending) first fic in a series

so when you go wherever it is you will go, take the moon with you by comforting_monachopsis (T, 115k, WWX & WWX, WWX & WN, WWX & WQ, wangxian, JYL & WWX & JC, past WWX/SS, past WWX/XY, Thirteen Years of WWX's Death, Canon Divergence, Literary References & Allusions, Time Travel, Dimension Travel, Private Investigators, Private Investigator WWX, Professor LWJ, Trauma, Serial Killers, Strangers to Lovers, BAMF WWX, Hurt WWX, WWX Needs Therapy, Modern Era, WIP)

atlas in his sleepin’ by anatheme (E, 48k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Reincarnation, Family Reunions, Dimension Travel, temporary transmigration, Transmigrator!LWJ, Angst with a happy ending)

drop me down to the dream below by AroPeterWam (E, 44k, wangxian, WWX & XY, Time Travel, Comfort/Angst, basically there is reincarnation and because of that WWX lives in both timelines, changes had to be made to fit this story, JC comes to terms with his emotions, Angst with a Happy Ending, Reincarnation, POV Alternating, ooc because different lives, fluff, Canon Divergence, Memory Related, explicit for like that one scene, Adopted WWX, sick WWX, Dimension Travel, Noncultivator WWX, JC & WWX Reconciliation, XY Deserves Better, time swap, WIP)

Horseshoes and Hand Grenades by Phantomhill (T, WWX & Juniors, JL/LJY, OYZZ/A-QIng, wangxian, College/University AU, Modern, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Minor Original Character(s), Background Relationships, Murder, Canon-Typical Violence, Minor Character Death, the juniors are doing their best, NHS has plans, not a reincarnation fic, JYL lives, JZX lives, WIP)

worm moon by serein (E, 103k, JC/WWX/LWJ, Post-Canon, Mystery, Angst, Humor, Grief/Mourning, PTSD, Identity Issues, Demonic Cultivation, eventual polyamory, Cults, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Implied past cannibalism, Switching, Canon-Typical Violence, Doppelganger, POV Alternating, Character Study, Explicit Sexual Content, Reverse Golden Core Reveal, mild horror elements)

So Call Me a Pessimist, but I Don’t Believe in It by Anonymous (Not Rated, 127k, WIP, WangXian, Food Issues, Family Feels, WWX is a music teacher, WN and WWX are Best Friends from the future, They use memes to talk covertly, Transmigrator WWX, transmigration au, Slow Burn) This is the opposite but I think OP will LOVE it

refrain; a musical phrase repeating in a song or instrumental piece Series by Cerusee, Mikkeneko (T/G, 51k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Sort Of, Memory Loss, Canon-typical dismemberment, Post-Series, but also mid-series ya feel, Changing Tenses, Protective LWJ, Everybody Lives, Confused WWX, Crack Treated Seriously) This is… also the opposite? Sorta? In which everyone from the future gets pulled back except for him

~*~

11. itmf hostage!LWJ, with WWX going berserk, kinda

the field meets the wood by astronicht (T, 7k, WangXian, BAMF WWX, slight whump, Ritualistic Self Harm, Canon Era, Tang Dynasty style, Blood Loss, Blood and Injury, salt economics, Post-Canon, [Podfic] the field meets the wood by semperfiona_podfic (semperfiona), [podfic] the field meets the wood by jellyfishfire)

~*~

12. I'm holding out serious hope for some pride and prejudice au wangxian. I don't care about setting or time period, I just want that delicious Lizzy/Darcy dynamic with LWJ being a classist dick to WWX and instead of just trying harder and harder WWX's like fuck that asshole and then then oh no, LWJ falls in love and WWX wants none of it. (I mean, I'd love a subplot where LWJ tries to talk JZX out of marrying JYL, too, but not strictly necessary). Any pics out there remotely like this? @moku-youbi

In Wanting by thaliagrayce (T, 39k, wangxian, Enemies to Lovers, Inspired by Pride and Prejudice, Miscommunication, No Sunshot Campaign, we are ignoring all of the canon political drama to substitute our own, non-graphic depictions of torture, cw: offscreen XY)

Clans and Cultivation by ChalionKat (G, 81k, WIP, WangXian, XuanLi, ChengQing, SongXiao, Regency, Pride and Prejudice Fusion)

~*~

13. Hi! 🤗 It's me, again. 😅

For the next ITMF, lately I'm looking for fics where WWX gets pregnant of LWJ. I'd prefer not abo fics, but if there is some good, it's ok too. I love Canon Divergence fics, Cloud Recesses arc, only the bad people dies and happy endings.

Thank you so much! ❤️😊 @wangxiansgirl

Unexpected Lullaby by SilverStark (T, 30k, WangXian, Minor Original Character(s), Unplanned Pregnancy, Post-Canon, Mpreg, Non-ABO, Fluff, Established Relationship, Reconciliation, Family, Dual Cultivation Baby)

🧡 Many Lan babies Series by LuckyMoonly (Varied, 396k, WIP, WangXian, Story collection, Mpreg, Pregnant WWX only, Family Fluff, Found Family, Kid fics)

Impermanence, Transience, Permanence by Best Bepsy (BepsyGray) (E, 39k, wangxian, canon divergence, unplanned pregnancy, mpreg, gore, sunshot campaign, assumed miscarriage, medical procedures, childbirth, golden core reveal)

Until The End by abCEE (M, 365k, wangxian, canon divergence, communication, established relationship, sunshot campaign, mpreg, canon typical violence, WWX has new golden core, canonical character death, happy ending, fix-it of sorts)

🧡 Like Rabbits by Setari (T, 41k, WangXian, Kid fic, Canon rewrite, Mpreg, Miscarriage scare, Crack treated seriously, Hopeful ending)

And they can always check the pregnancy comps! A/B/O is always tagged, so it can be avoided!

🧡 Accidents Will Happen by vesna (mrsronweasley) (E, 45k WangXian, Post Canon, Mpreg, Fluff, Light angst) I'm absolutely obsessed with

~*~

14. Hello! 👋 I just find this blog and I saw that we can ask fics. This is for In the mood for.

My favorites fics are the ones where Wwx comes back in time and fix everything, get together with Lwj soon and saves everyone. I love longer fics. Thanks ☺️

~*~

15. For itmf I was wondering if anyone had some recs for ChengXian mpreg with WWX as the carrier. @dragonfairies

~*~

16. Hello! For my ITMF I'm looking for a fic where wwx flinches/gets scared from the Zidian (either held my jc or yzy) and people find out about his ptsd with the whip? Just want some justice and comfort for our bb boi @mrcformoso

🧡 Stunted, Starving Juvenility by TomatenMark (E, 686k, WangXian, WIP, Fix-it of sorts, Talisman master WWX, Not JFM Friendly, Study Arc, Getting together, Fluff and Angst, Engagement) So none that I can think of exactly, but this one has some tasty, tasty justice

~*~

17. Hey, Im looking to read a fic or 2 where WWX wasnt in control of himself during his “k ll everyone faze” after the Wens are k lled and/or when his eyes turn red. So I guess like a burial mounds possession type deal? And if WWX is like seeing it all from inside, watching as all this tragedy unfolds at what he interprets as his own hand, for spice. May I have a fic rec or as many as you can find, please? @0call-me-rin0

~*~

If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***

#wangxian #mdzs #wangxian fic recs #i'm in the mood for a fic #the untamed #wangxian fic search #wangxianficfinder #long post

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insoukokuhell-434 · 1 year ago

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Chuuya Takes Care of Dazai Fics

Includes:

Emotional Hurt/Comfort (long term & immediate)

Physical Hurt/Comfort

The format I’m using is:

Title - writer (ao3 link) Fic length Time period (teen/mafia skk, 22! Skk, all ages) Additional tags (Tags in bold added by me for extra info) TW

Some fics have parts of the summary/ comments added for additional info

Emotional Hurt/Comfort

Long Term (multiple instances)

hey look, the sky's falling apart - saffroncassis

24.8k TEEN SKK (16/17) AU - Canon Divergence Protective Nakahara Chuuya, Angst, Fluff, Humor, Developing Relationship Found Family (the Akutagawa siblings, Oda's kids, Kyouka, Oda, Ango) TW- Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse and discussions of both these, also cw food for the whole fic

Summary - "At age 16, Chuuya defects from the Port Mafia and drags his partner with him not so much kicking and screaming as silently begrudging, and the rest follow suit in time."

Mostly Chuuya helping Dazai, but Dazai supports him too <33

[Really realistic depiction of the relationship between a depressed person and their supportive partner!]

For the Record - zombiemarker

19.1k TEEN SKK AU- Spies & Secret Agents + Physical Hurt/Comfort Nightmares, Childhood Trauma, they get all dressed up and go to a gala, Implied Sexual Content, Fluff & Angst, Literal sleeping together, Getting together, First kiss, Developing Relationship TW - Blood and Violence, Childhood Trauma

From tags: "Chuuya's a government experiment, Dazai's been with Mori for years, they've both got trauma now"

Mostly Chuuya helping Dazai, but Dazai supports him too <33

A mouth to empty into - series by osamuchuu

Not listing all 4 fics cause this post is already so long, but they’re all amazing pls go read them!

The series depicts depression + CSA trauma so well!

This is my favourite -

Love is not a victory march - osamuchuu

8.7k 22 SKK Soukoku taking care of each other, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Mental Illness, Depression, Drug Addiction, Blood and Injury, Healing, Recovery, Soukoku Tenderness, Light Angst TW - Dazai-Typical Suicide References and Attempts, Addiction, Drug Use

believe me darling, the stars were made for falling -communist_sasuke

14.6k ALL AGES Worried Chuuya, Love Confessions, Dazai is a Mess, Angst, Self-Harm , Fluff & Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon timeline, First Kiss, TW - Dazai-Typical Suicide Mentions , Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt

Trust Fall - insi

3.5k ALL AGES (Dark Era, Post-Dark Era, 22 SKK) Emotional Constipation, Mental Health Issues, Dazai has issues TW - Implied/Referenced Suicide & Self-Harm, Suicidal ideation

From tags: Chuuya has met Dazai on the rooftop many times throughout knowing each other.

Immediate

Emotional H/C

Even the Darkness We're Watching Is So Beautiful - NastyaEx

4k 22 SKK (post-109) bsd 109, Fluff, Dazai Needs a Hug, Dazai is a Mess, exhausted dazai, dazai cries but only a little bit, Cuddling & Snuggling, Sharing a Bed, Soft skk, Dazai centered, yosano is a bit here and she's great

I'll Make A Home In Your Gut Because its Somewhere Warm to Sleep - arahabakii

8.9k 22 SKK Fluff, Angst, Mutual Pining, Feelings Realization, First Kiss, Making Out, Getting Together, Domestic Fluff, Touch-Starved Dazai, Dazai needs a hug, Chuuya needs a hug TW - Dazai-Typical Suicide References

stay- neon_toad

4.6k 22 SKK (pm!skk flashbacks) Suffering Dazai, Dazai Needs a Hug , Dazai is Bad at Feelings, Oblivious Dazai Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Hugs, birthday, Birthday Presents, soft skk TW - Dazai-Typical Suicide References

where are you? - doeinstinct

2.8k 22 SKK Depression, Disordered Eating, physical symptoms of depression, Mentions of past self harm, m because they shower together, canon adjacent, meal replacements, Love Confessions, They're In Love Your Honor

Run Away With Me - Anonymous

5.3k Dark Era Grief/Mourning, Dissociation, Suicidal Thoughts, Soft Soukoku, Dazai Needs a Hug , Dazai Has Feelings, Pining, Cuddling & Snuggling, Sharing a Bed, Chuuya Needs a Hug, Kissing, Dazai asks Chuuya to run away with him

stay the night - Shinkirou

3.6k 22 SKK Gen or Pre-Slash, Developing Relationship, Character Study, Sharing a Bed, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Dazai's depression

Physical Hurt/Comfort

Fool for loyalty, or some other word - osamuchuu

1.7k Dark Era Aftermath of Torture, Blood and Injury Light Angst, chuuya deals with so much tbh, what a champ, Fluff and Angst, Pre-Relationship, Established Relationship, chuuya being Dazai's nurse because he absolutely was Dazai's angry nurse

under wraps - Coffeebiscuits

5k Post-Dark era + Emotional hurt comfort Love confessions, deep talks, Light angst, Fluff and angst, kissing, crushes, sharing a bed, Suicide, Self-Harm, Tending to Wounds TW - Dazai-Typical Suicide Mentions, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm

From tags: “basically chuuya has to patch dazai upand they talk about some things they need to discuss”

Chuuya also gets some emotional comfort

EXHAUSTION

So if you go too far I'll be there - Kimisu

2.5k 22 SKK - Pre-Fyodor | Cannibalism Arc No Plot/Plotless, Literal Sleeping Together, Some Fluff, Canon Timeline

From Summary: Based on a HC that Dazai spends days before every major arc planning and arranging the pieces in order for everything to 'work'. He also pushes his body limits a bit too far when doing that sometimes.

SICK FIC

Nothing More Important Than You - StormDew2

3k MAFIA SKK (15) Sickfic, Soft soukoku, Vulnerability

Please like/reblog if this helped u find a fic, I'd be delighted to know asjsj <3

“Dazai takes care of Chuuya” recs here

Fic rec masterlist here

#soukoku #soukoku fic rec #skk #skk fic rec #soukoku fics #skk fics #really hope the categorizing makes sense!#didn't know how else to do it ;-;#15 in total :D #sierra’s recs #edit: added 'where are you'#Sierra’s posts 🌸

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asleepyyeti · 11 days ago

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unnervingly domestic

important cw's: depiction of depression, nightmares, blood, self harm and suicide (no one dies--it's part of the nightmare). please only read this if it won't be detrimental to your mental health!

(this is set further along in your friendship with simon, when you're much closer with both him and the rest of the 141.)

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4]

Ever since Simon and his partners had 'adopted' you, they’d been more free with their affection. Johnny loved attaching himself to you like a limpet: both his arms twined around yours, his arm slung around your shoulders, intertwining your fingers as you chatted to the group–he treated you a bit like a cuddly toy.

Kyle liked to lean his head on your shoulder, whether that was while one of you were cooking, watching the others play something on the telly, or if you were sitting next to each other at the pub.

Johns touch was more grounding for you, a steady hand on your back, the nape of your neck–or if your posture was bad enough, manhandling you into a less pretzel-like configuration.

Not to say that you minded it–platonic physical affection had always made your heart happy. Simon was the only one who didn’t seem to love touch, and you respected that. To be honest, you’d never even expected to become more than acquaintances with your flatmate, let alone to have this bizarrely attached friendship you'd fostered. The fact that he doesn’t love touch just makes those moments when he pets your head or pats your shoulder all the more special. (He’s never told you, but he loves the way you beam up at him when he touches you–his touch has only ever made you happy, and that’s special to him.)

He hasn’t ever been on leave for one of your really bad depressive episodes.

It’s strange for you to be home, but the flat still be so quiet. Your door isn’t shut, but even when Luna comes out, you don’t. He brings you food in the morning and the evening, and nods when you thank him in a quiet voice that’s so unlike you. He decides that he hates it. He hates that you only ever eat half your meals (at most), too.

He makes sure you take your meds, he brings you treats–well, the boys do. He’s terrified to leave you home alone. He knows what can happen when someone's left alone with demons like yours.

A week into your slump, he has a nightmare.

He pushes the door open, and immediately Luna is jumping up at him. It’d been a long deployment, and he’d missed the both of you–this little welcome makes him smile. He fusses her for a while, then throws his bag and jacket down in the entryway. He’ll pick it up later, so you don’t trip over it. It’s only when he walks into the kitchen that he notices Luna’s bloody pawprints.

His stomach curdles.

He calls out to you as he follows the trail into your room, then into your bedroom, your bathroom–and there you are. Skin the wrong colour, eyes lifeless, bathtub red as a sunset. Too late. He’s too late–

He wakes up panting, and he’s already halfway to your room before he knows he’s walking. He pushes your door open just a touch, poking his head around the corner. You’re awake, facing the door, face illuminated by your phone. He watches confusion play across your face when you notice him.

“Y’okay Si? ‘s half three.”

He doesn’t answer, instead walking into your room and sitting on the edge of your bed.

“Yer not asleep either.”

“Can’t,” you sigh. “Keep– keep thinking– making myself sick thinking–“

Simon nods.

You look him in the eyes. He tries not to flinch. “Something happened,” you say. Not a question.

“Mh. Shove over.”

You don’t even hesitate, shuffling to the side of your bed, pulling the corner of the duvet back so he can slide in next to you. Your legs press together, and you try to find some comfort in the pressure of another person next to you. You’d be embarrassed about the state of you or your room, but you figure Simon has seen (and smelt) much worse in the military.

“Wanna watch videos with me? ’m watching crimes against food. Just saw someone put mayonnaise, just mayonnaise, into an air fryer. Nearly threw up when they opened it up.”

“Not selling it to me.��

“We’ll watch the tamer ones then, they’re mostly just a criminal amount of cheese, like, here–” you scroll a couple, leaning into Simon as you show him your phone. “See, like, it’s not enough to make you want to throw up, just worry about people’s dairy tolerance.”

He throws one of his arms around your shoulders, and though you tense, your expression is more confused than uncomfortable. “Y’okay, Si?”

“Just need to know yer real.”

You hum, and lean further into him.

When he decides you’ve had enough screen time, he plucks your phone from your hands and shoves it under ‘his’ pillow. He tucks himself further under your duvet and pulls you into him. He feels your breath on his throat, and doesn’t let himself sleep until that breathing evens out. You’re alive. You’re safe. He won’t let that change.

The two of you sleep like that, with Luna warming your feet, until midday.

#platonic ghost x reader #platonic simon riley x reader #if there's anything else i need to cw that i missed please let me know #if you're going through a hard time right now im holding on and you can too #im holding hope for both of us that things will get better soon #unnervingly domestic

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weskin-time · 2 years ago

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Leon Kennedy x GN!Reader

this has been in my drafts for a while now and i didn’t know if i wanted to post it or not but idk so here it is

Angst and Fluff <3 not beta read

CW- depictions of disassociation, mental health at a low, depression, depersonalization, derealization, and the likes.

Today wasn’t a good day.

Your brain swam between reality and your thoughts, a heavy fog laid on your eyes making you see through a hazy tunnel; your body felt wrong, like your bones didn’t match your meat but worse of all you were dissociating all day.

Work went by fast, in small blinks where you ‘woke up’ from your haze only to go dark again where you woke up at home. You barely remember the day, didn’t talk to anyone, not even responding to your partner if he texted you, you just were a ghost today.

You curled up on your bed, work clothes still on as your brain melted in the dim light of the day that was about to end. You tried not to focus on the feeling of being watched, tried not to focus on the ideas your brain saw but your eyes didn’t, you tried so hard to ignore the primal fear as you imagined shadows watching you from the corners of your room. Your body didn’t even exist. Your brain didn’t even register the feeling of having a body, you didn’t even have a head, you couldn’t feel your skin against the blankets or the feeling of your work clothes pressed against the bed.

You spent your bad days balancing between being hyper aware or dissociating. Everything seemed like it was too much and not enough at the same time, as if-

-You opened your front door to the face of your boyfriend. How did you get here? You took a second to ground yourself as you looked at him, there was a knock on the door and you got out of your depression room and made your way to it.

Leon stood there, the sunset behind him as the stars were just starting to become visible, barley.

“Did you just get home?” he asked glancing at your outfit.

You looked down at your work clothes and then pulled out your phone to check the time. “uh no i’ve been home for,,,,” you paused as you counted. “like 4 hours?”

“And you haven’t changed?”

you shook your head and shrugged. “I got lazy.” You didn’t want to worry him about your state but seeing as you haven’t texted him all day and the fact he showed up at your place says he might be already worried.

“I tried contacting you the entire day, are you doin okay?”

You faintly remember your phone ringing at some point in your haze, you just ignored it.

“Yea i was taking a nap.” You lean on your door somewhat blocking Leon from entering or seeing your messy apartment.

“In your work clothes?” He had you there.

You look away from him as your brain tried to take a step back and run on autopilot, your blinked hard to try and keep it awake. You couldn’t disappear in front of Leon, you wouldn’t be able to make him less worried about your-

-The couch was the first thing you felt as you awoke from the fog. Taking a second to remember how you got here as you looked at Leon. He broke you down and you let him in to your place. Instantly you hated that you did that. Your apartment was a wreck, dirty dishes piled up, crumbs on the floor, cups in places they shouldn’t be, food left out, clothes on the floor, and trash everywhere. You felt what you could only assume to be shame as he looked around your apartment, he’s been here before but you were in a better state of mind and cleaned the place before hand. You didn’t want him to see you like this ever.

“Are you sure you’re doin okay?” He was sat on the couch next to you and took your hand in his own, rubbing his thumb against your knuckles. “You look like hell.”

You close your eyes and mumble out a quiet ‘tired’ as you focused on the feeling of him. You didn’t want to be a burden.

“Then go change and go to bed, i’ll stay with you tonight, if you want.”

You had a feeling he had picked up on you not doing too well, it was obvious with the state of your living room alone. He didn’t ask you to tell him what was wrong and you appreciated that a lot. The haze never shook itself and you began to not feel real, like everything around you was a lie, and a small paranoid thought came that you were just talking to air. You leaned into him, knowing if you felt more of him you would get some feel for reality.

Leon wrapped an arm around your back and shifted so he could rest the backs of your knees on his arm as he lifted you up, a small yelp and the shock of the sudden pick up woke you up enough to hold on to him as he brought you to your bathroom and sat you on the sink counter. You blinked at him in confusion as he started the shower.

“Come on, get undressed and get in. I’ll get you something to sleep in.”

Before you could even respond to him he was out of the bathroom and closed the door behind you. You felt something stir in your chest and you couldn’t tell if it was a good feeling or a sick one, it might have been a mix of love and guilt.

You did as you were instructed and got in the warm shower, the water seeming to ground you a lot better than you thought it would. As the steam clouded the air your brain fog seemed to dissipate in opposition. The door opened at some point as Leon put a change of clothes on the counter and too your work clothes away.

You got out of the shower and changed, never looking in the mirror or even glancing at it, you didn’t want to see what you looked like.

Making your way out of the bathroom you saw that your apartment was a bit more neater now, all the clothes everywhere were gone from the floor and on furniture. You looked and saw Leon by your washer loading your dirty clothes in.

“What are you doing? I could have done that, you didn’t have to do all this.” You didn’t say it in anger you said it with concern dripping from your words. He knew you had problems with people doing your stuff for you, that you could do things yourself regardless of how bad you got, but he seemed to know what to say to bypass that wall in your brain.

“I needed something to do while you were in there. It’s fine babe don’t worry.” He closed the lid and started it.

He turned to you once again and lead you to your bedroom which was weird to see with a few piles of clothes missing. He too changed into clothes that he had left at your place a few weeks ago and slipped under the covers of your unmade bed with you.

You never liked to admit it but being next to him helped your brain a lot. Cuddling up to him as you two faced each other, your face in his chest and his arms around your midsection, his chin resting on your head as you nuzzled your nose into his neck. He ran his hand over your arm and back in comforting strokes up and down as he talked bout his day, what he did, about a funny story Chris told him, just anything as you felt your eyes burn. Reality wrapped itself around you like the blanket on top of the two of you as your mind caught up to your body. Exhaustion set in as you realized that going to bed at 2 am and waking up at 5 am for work is probably not good at all for your system.

A small soft kiss to your forehead and you were out like a light in Leon’s arms.

——————————————————————

Waking up the next morning to the sun high in the sky was scary when you have to be up before dawn for work. You scrambled and stumbled, sleep still fresh on your brain, to check the time on your phone. It was almost noon.

You ran out of your bedroom and into your living room to grab your work clothes but instantly stopped when you saw Leon standing in your kitchen hovering over the stove cooking something. Confusing gripped you as you looked around your place, the trash and dishes were gone, the pile of dishes that made you nauseous to look at were cleaned and put away, the trash was gone and so were the crumbs, left out food was gone, your place looked cleaner than ever.

“L-Leon?” You were trying to sort your brain out for a proper emotion to feel in this moment.

“Good afternoon!” He turned away from the stove and you could see he was making an omelette. “Wondered when you were gonna wake up.” He took the pan off the stove and moved the omelette to a plate, setting the pan back in the stove to cool.

“Why’d you let me sleep so late? I gotta get to work!” You b lined for the laundry room to grab your clothes before Leon stopped you.

“No need. I told them you weren’t gonna come in today and tomorrow.”

“What?” Sleep let you go as you were almost struggling to process what was happening.

“Called in sick.” He shrugged with a smile on his face.

A silence filled the air as you processed not going to work and also your now very much clean apartment.

“Did you,, clean up for me?”

“I also prepped some meals for you for the week, they’re in the fridge.” He jerked his head in the direction of the machine. “No need to thank me.”

You just stood there and blinked. If you could physically make the old Widows start up sound you would be as the cogs in your brain turned before they finally clicked.

“,,,Why?”

There was another pause before Leon spoke, he leaned his back against the counter and folded his arms over his chest. “Because I love you?” He said it like it was obvious as saying a ‘dog has a tail’. “I know how you get sometimes and I know how hard it is for you. Not to mention you’ve helped me a few times when i’ve been in your position.”

It’s true. You had helped him in the past when his brain got too much too, when memories of the police station and Spain rests on his shoulders heavier than weights and he can’t seem to shake them you’ve tried to help lift some of the pressure from him. You’ve done almost exactly what he’s done today a few times for him. There were a few thoughts on your brain as you sat and processed his very obvious love for you, one of them was the term ‘male wife’, another thought was ‘i need to marry him now before someone takes him away from me’, and another thought was the feeling of pure love. So much so that your brain seemed to short circuit and tears began to sting your eyes and blur your vision.

He saw this and was instantly by your side, his arm around your back and his other hand against where your skull meets your neck as he pulled you into him, squeezing you in an embrace that radiated affection.

“I love you Leon.” Was all you could choke out as you tried to, and failed, to choke back a sob.

“I love you too.”

#tezi post #resident evil #resident evil x reader #resident evil imagine #resident evil leon kennedy #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy headcanons #resident evil leon #re4 #re2 #re6

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livingbrother · 8 months ago

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Minthe Rewrite

CW: discussions of mental health issues, some of which may be inaccurate, and slight body horror

Her Personality

Minthe is generally calm and collected, but has a tendency to let her emotions get way ahead of her if she doesn't self soothe. She's known as a slightly morose but kind woman. She enjoys being around her friends and going on nature walks, she's also a little bit of a nerd.

Her Fashion

Minthe generally wears modern clothing as she lives in the Underworld, she favors the color black because it just goes with anything. Her favorite clothing combo is a mesh top and tank top with some comfy jeans. She loves that mesh top too much.

Her Background

Minthe was raised in a nice household, she never really had to worry about life, the only thing that gave her much difficulty though, was her BPD. She struggled for a while, losing friends, having uncontrollable anger, and a deep nothingness that filled her entire being, until she got the help needed. She, for the most part, has her disorder managed, but still slips up now and again.

Design Notes

Minthe's design, for the most part, was based on one of my favorite singers, Tori Amos! I was listening to her song Crucify at the time when I made the first image, and I had to go with Tori's looks to pay tribute to the fact that I sorta based her off the song Crucify. I also somewhat based her off my step-sister who has BPD. I made her look more fishy and green to 1. Go with the actual myths 2. Because mint green for Minthe funny. Red hair was there for the contrast and to pay ode to the best LO character. I'm going to try my best to depict her BPD as accurately as I can! When she's actually, legitimately pissed off, she can go into her primal goddess form, which is based on a skorpina fish!

What else should you know?

She uses she/her and can't drink alcohol because it messes with her medication. She isn't a villain in my story, she's gonna be a more realistic, down to Earth character who we pop in on a few times! She unfortunately still gets turned into a mint plant, but by Demeter. Why? I'm thinking that during a particularly bad episode, she runs into Demeter, she gets slighted because Demeter accidentally knocks her over or something like that, in unadulterated rage, she lays out incredibly harsh insults that have some truth to them about Kore. Demeter gets insulted on her daughter's behalf, and turns her into a mint plant. It gets reversed and Minthe goes to therapy. I don't know though, suggestions would be pretty cool as I only have surface level knowledge but I am doing deeper research. Idk.

Thanks for reading!

#lo critical #anti lore olympus #anti lo #livingbrother #lo redesign #redesign #rewrite #artwork #digital art

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dazaisms · 10 months ago

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❀°:.• THIS CAN'T GO ON ANY LONGER

synopsis. they need to talk. he can't cope with this any longer.

pairing. kunikida doppo × dazai osamu (bungo stray dogs)

cw. angst, established relationship, break up angst guys. mentions & depictions of su1c1d3.

Kunikida loves Dazai. Of course he does. He is the blonde's beloved boyfriend after all.

Everything seemed perfect, too. At least, to those who didn't see right through them.

Few people could see Kunikida's health, mental and physical, quickly deteriorating. Yet, nobody but the man himself knew the cause of it.

But when something affects Kunikida, he makes it his goal to fix it instantly. But he hasn't. Why?

Because he couldn't do it. He knew it would break Dazai, and that would only break himself.

But he has to do it. It's now or never.

All because he was tired. Tired of Dazai's rambling about Chuuya. Tired of staying up late and waking up in the middle of the night because Dazai had attempted again.

Don't get him wrong, he absolutely loves Dazai and loves helping the brunette. But his body, and his mental well-being couldn't keep up with it.

And absolutely none of it was in his ideals.

But he didn't think things through before calling Dazai over to talk. With the way he stated it, too, he knew that his boyfriend would be panicking and just brushing it off and bottling it up.

But he was losing sleep, and he couldn't take it any longer. He can't get up to bandage Dazai's arms, he can't get up to get him from the roof and comfort him within his embrace.

He was physically and mentally exhausted.

Which is why he had to do this. He had to break up with Dazai.

At least until the two of them had improved mentally.

...

It didn't take long for Dazai to make it to Kunikida's door, rushing in immediately, his breathing heavy.

"Kuni? Hey, is everything okay? Why did you need to talk so suddenly?"

The bandage covered brunette rushed towards the taller blonde, panic settled in his eyes and his hands desperately gripping the others arms.

Kunikida took a deep breath, slender fingers pushing his glasses up his nose before he spoke, in a shaky voice (which was very unlike him).

"Listen, 'samu. You do know I love you, and you mean the world to me, correct?"

Dazai stared up at him, mouth agape and eyes almost doe-like as he nodded. "o-of course i know, kuni! you remind me everyday! what's going on? are you okay?"

All Kunikida could do was let out a quiet sigh and shake his head, gentle hands pulling the other's away from his body.

"I love you so much, dear. But this can't go on any longer, I cannot deal with this any longer. Make me out to be the bad person, hate me, despise me, I don't care. As long as you're smiling and happy.

"But for the sake of my own health, I'm breaking up with you. At least until my mental and physical health are recovered, if you would take me back after, that is. But if we stay together, it will be too dangerous for the two of us. Just please, do not resort to attempting again because I'm doing this.

"I'll still be here when you desperately need me, but please. I just.. I need to break up with you."

After taking in his words, Dazai slowly and gently pulled his hands out of Kunikida's grip. His mouth opened and closed, as if he was trying to say something, but nothing came out.

"R-right. I understand, kunikida! If that's what you really think is right, then it must be, hm?"

Dazai spoke with a close-eyed smile, his head tilted to the side a little. He pulled himself away from Kunikida as a whole, walking backwards towards the door, before spinning around to leave.

"I'll.. see you at work tomorrow."

When Dazai had left, Kunikida finally let himself break down. He sat on his bed, pulling his glasses off and letting his tears fall into the palms of his hands.

He knew Dazai was hurt, and he was just faking the smile to hide it all.

He knew what he did hurt Dazai Osamu. Which made him unsure if he would actually see him at work the next day.

Spoiler alert: he doesn't.

toby's notes ;

more angst, i really am allergic to happiness :3 /j

#✯ ; dazaisms #✮ ; angst #kunizai #kunizai angst #kunizai fanfic #bsd fanfic #bsd angst #bsd #dazai bsd #bsd kunikida #kunikida doppo #dazai osamu

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steddie-my-love · 1 year ago

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Please Stay

Dads!Gentlebeard x Daughter!Reader

When you and Stede finally catch up to the revenge you prepare to see Ed again, but aren’t quite prepared for what you find.

CW: a whole lot of angst, mention of abandonment, depiction of mental health and suicidal tendencies, season 2 spoilers

—

You pace outside the cargo hold, the familiar sounds of the revenge a welcome relief to the last three months working as a barmaid at spanish jackie’s.

On the other side of the door stede sat with ed’s still body. You had wanted to go in but stede insisted you go and help roach take stock of the rations. It was a flimsy excuse but you knew what he meant: let me have a moment with him before i tell you he’s gone.

So here you stand, listening with rapt attention behind the cherry wood door, waiting to see if Edward Teach was dead.

the part of you still left on that island curled in your gut; anger and fear and disappointment set to a low simmer. Stede had told you everything. The kiss, the plans, the betrayal. You knew what ed must have been feeling, pushed into the deep end and casting off everything that reminded him of stede; you included.

you don’t want to understand but you do. you want to be angry. you want to hate him, but you can’t.

A sudden commotion sounded beyond the door, Stede’s excited voice rising higher and higher in what sounded to be celebration. Celebration until a shocked cry of pain.

“Stede?” you called, pushing into the small room. The blonde covered his eye, a baffled look crossing his face.

“he head butted me!” stede cried “ed just head butted me!”

“can you blame him?” you laughed, inching into the room as stede raised his hand to draw you to his side. In the last months you and stede had talked about what the both of you wanted this reunion to look like, and in all of them you belonged at his side.

Stede gave your hand a tight squeeze as you stood beside him, looking down at ed as he lay rigid on the crates below.

“ed-“ you began, voice cracking. all the things you had wanted to say seemed to dry up on your tongue as you looked down on the man, his once healthy frame pulled thin and skin paler than you had seen him before. “christ ed what have you done to yourself?” you mumbled.

He looked nothing like he used to, the light that used to shine from him reduced to a pale glimmer. Those once sharp eyes able to plan a fuckery from a mile away almost seemed dull and a crease between his eyebrows erased and smile lines that had been there before.

You sat down beside him, your hand hesitating to take his until he was ready. With a small signal from the man you laid your hand on his right hand, the left still firmly grasped by stede.

“hey kid-“ Ed said weakly, his voice all but gone. a ghost of a smile stretched across his face

“ed-“ you began, struggling to find the words “I know that you have been through hell but please, please don’t destroy yourself. We need you in our lives. If-“

You faltered, voice catching in your throat as you tried to get the words out. Stede’s now callused hand clasped your shoulder.

“Promise me that you’ll come to us if it gets this bad. Talk to us or so help me i will walk into hell and pull you out myself” you said.

Ed let out a sort of wheezing laugh, his lungs not yet recovered fully. “i promise kid.” he said with a small squeeze of his hand that you returned.

“Okay now-“ Stede began, shaking you out from the moment. “we have a lot to talk about tomorrow but in the meantime ed should get some rest. come on yn.” the captain said, but as you began to collect yourself you noticed that ed’s grip had not yet been relinquished, his gaze not yet leaving your face.

“stay, will you?” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. you gave a short nod and before you could say a word stede had excused himself to find the two of you some extra blankets.

“kid i’m-“ Ed began, not quite able to look you in the face.

“we’ll be able to get into all of that.” you said, brushing a piece of hair out of his face “what’s important is that you rest. That we both rest really, stede frees us from the pirate queen today!”

The pirate’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, so to began the tale- about indigo trunks and good soup and zip lining above the pacific ocean.

Ed listened with rapt interest, but by the time he returned with blankets for you and ed, the man was fast asleep and you were soon to follow.

—

Suicide is a serious issue! Please text or call the Suicide Hotline at 988, reach out to a friend or send me a message (my inbox is a completely safe space)

#blackbonnet #blackbonnet fic #dad!ed teach #dad!stede bonnet #our flag means death #stede x ed #stede bonnet fic #ofmd #gentlebeard #gentlebeard fic #dad!blackbonnet x daughter!reader #dads!blackbonnet #dad!blackbonnet #dad!blackbeard #dad!gentlebeard #dads!gentlebeard #daughter!reader #daughter

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measuredingold · 1 year ago

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to be in love and to be loved

chapter two: changes

authors note: welcome back! we have successfully made it to chapter two. this one was a bit hard for me to finish because i wanted to get the ball rolling on some things. this chapter switches povs throughout it, but it’ll make sense. was proofread at 1 am so if there’s any mistakes i apologize. as always, enjoy and feedback is always appreciated <3 (p.s. to the person who asked if the title was from a 1d song… it sure is 🖤)

pairing: noah sebastian x ofc x nicholas ruffilo

masterlist / cross-posted on ao3

word count: 9.4k (another doozy)

cw: depicts of anxiety/anxiety attacks, mental health struggles, ~kissing~, lots of angst, 18+ (minors do not interact.)

After his sudden realization, Nicholas learned quickly that he's very good at avoiding things. Like… scary good, actually.

He convinced himself it was the right thing to do, to push those feelings so far into the back of his mind, to the back of his heart, closed off away from the world so things don't get complicated. He can't sit here and say that he hasn't thought about it, because he has, the possibility of him coming out with the truth. It's wishful thinking, but it always makes something stir inside Nicholas, his chest fluttering with excitement. In another life, he thinks, maybe it could work out. Maybe he could be happy. Maybe they could be happy. Together.

He doesn't think this life is as lucky.

So, he avoids it. Acts like it's not there. Things remain the same, for the most part, and Naomi doesn’t bring up the almost kiss. He knows she wants to. Sometimes he finds her watching him when Noah’s not looking, eyes pleading but all he can do is give her a sad smile and look away. As time goes on, she doesn’t silently press anymore, doesn’t give him that look. That’s when he decides that this was the right decision. This is what he needed to do to keep things the same, to keep them here. With him. Even if it wasn’t in the way he wanted it.

He gazes up from the table to find Noah staring at him and glances to his side to find Naomi doing the same. He has to swallow down the impending sadness that seems to be lingering more often these days and puts on a smile, one that they easily return before going back to their conversation while they wait for their food. He feels Naomi's hand settle on his thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze as she speaks animatedly to Noah, and he finds himself leaning his head against her shoulder.

He glances over at Noah again, finding the younger boy staring at him with such softness that it almost makes him feel sick, and all he wishes for right now is to reach over and grab ahold of Noah's hand that's laid across the table. His fingers twitch, but he doesn't move.

Nicholas knows he can't keep living this way and knows that one day this might blow up in his face. This won't last forever, but he's content for now and that's all that matters. He'll let himself live in this moment just a little longer, even if it slowly breaks his heart piece by piece.

…

If you had told Noah that in three years he'd leave his old band, start a whole new project that would lead him to his new band, get signed by a pretty popular label, and end up touring for said label well before their debut album is released, he probably would've called you a fucking liar.

Then he’d have to smack himself when he found out it was true.

Sometimes he has to sit and think about how he deserved all of this; despite all the hard work he’s put into this project. It was his baby, at least that’s what Nicholas liked to call it. And yeah, it was. He put his entire being into Bad Omens, working his ass off for months - years, almost - for this to work out, and as his eyes scan the room to find his bandmates and crew turned best-friends, he likes to think it’s worked out so far.

He can't say he's made it yet, but he has a feeling it’s not too far from his reach.

Noah's gaze snaps towards the back of the room where he hears laughter erupting, and warmth spreads itself across his chest and down his arms, all the way to the tips of his fingers. Naomi and Nicholas work together to bring in boxes of merch for tonight's show, and for some reason he has to try and stop himself from smiling as he watches them.

Nicholas was his first supporter, long before Noah had even roped him into being in the band with him. Naomi came next and Noah was forever grateful for them. He wasn't sure where he'd be without their support, love, and patience, and he tries not to think about it too hard, because he knows he wouldn’t be anywhere without them. Well, anywhere good. They kept him anchored.

Naomi wasn't even supposed to be here originally, but she had surprised the whole crew a few days ago with saved up time from work. She took the whole week off to be with them because she knew an extra hand would do them some good. When she told Noah that he remembers how giddy he had felt, and how excited he was to have her there with them.

"Anything for my boys." She had said on the phone. The memory makes his face heat up and his heart thud wildly against his chest.

Noah perks up, eyes narrowing as he watches Nicholas' hand brush against Naomi's back, leaving it there a beat longer for it to be deemed casual. He can see Naomi's cheeks flush all the way from where he stood, and she leans back, tilting her head up to say something to Nicholas. Noah has no clue what she says, too far away to be in ear shot, and his whole body warms at Nicholas having to bend down to whisper something in her ear. He can hear Naomi's laughter.

He’s sure his face is flushed, and he has to force himself to look away. It's so hard, though. He's not angry, not at them at least. He's not even jealous. He's something he can't exactly explain, and he thinks that's what frustrates him the most.

The way Nicholas' touch looked so delicate even all the way over where Noah was made his head spin, especially with how Mimi leaned into him almost instantly. His mind starts up again and before he could stop, he finds himself wondering what it would be like to have the girl pressed up against him... and Nicholas.

He halts his movements when he almost lost his grip on the box he had been carrying but he finds his footing again, slowly sitting the box down on the stage.

This isn't the first time his mind has gone somewhere that's uncharted. The thought of Naomi pressed in between the two boys has slipped through his mind more than a handful of times, and maybe even some with himself in between them...

He shakes his head to make his thoughts stop and he finds Jolly watching him, a brow raised.

"You good?"

Noah gives him a nonchalant shrug that's far from convincing and his eyes find their way back to the merch table before looking back at Jolly. "Yeah, I'm good. Why?"

“Just wondering.” Jolly follows his gaze and his lips quirk up. "You ever going to tell her?"

Noah crouches down to open up the box he had brought to the stage, quickly glancing at Jolly. He regrets having told the boy his feelings for Naomi one drunken night months ago.

"Tell her what?"

"Dude." Jolly looks unimpressed, lips pressed in a line and all Noah can do is sigh.

"What am I supposed to say, man? Hey, I have feelings for you."

"You can literally say that." It's Noah's turn to look unimpressed and Jolly rolls his eyes. "Seriously! That's all you gotta say."

"You make it sound so easy."

"Because it is easy." Jolly shrugs. " She flew across the fucking country to see you. The feeling is mutual."

"If it was that easy, don't you think I would've done it already?" Noah hisses through his teeth, eyes narrowing at Jolly. The older male rolls his eyes, a huff passing his lips. “Plus, she’s here to see all of us. Not just me.”

"Listen, all I'm saying is that you should do it now before someone else comes along." Jolly's gaze shifts between Noah and then the merch table, before looking back at the younger boy.

Noah's jaw tenses and as he glances that way for a second time just as Mimi reached up to mess with Nicholas’ hair. He says something to her, pulling a goofy face, and she throws her head back in laughter. Noah's stomach drops and he forces himself to look away, feeling Jolly's eyes burn against his skin.

"And it’s starting to look like someone already has."

He can't stop the way his heart pounds rapidly against his chest, the sudden wave of anxiety filling his body. Jolly’s just speaking out of his ass, right? There’s no way that that’s true, though, as he continues to watch Naomi and the way Nicholas is looking down at her, the pit in his stomach begins to grow.

He swallows thickly. "Shut up."

"I’m just saying I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“Shut up, Joakim.”

Jolly frowns. “Noah-“

"Please for the love of god," He sucks down a deep breath, and he can feel his throat tightening as each second passes, "shut up."

"When did you become so pissy?" Jolly grumbles, mainly to himself, but Noah hears him.

His jaw tenses and he has to shut his eyes briefly, taking in a deep breath. He stands from his crouched position and glares down at Jolly.

"Maybe because you’re always in my fucking business."

Noah can't explain why he's so... pissy, as Jolly put it, but the males words have wormed their way into his mind and it’s making his skin fucking crawl. His hands have balled into fists at his sides and he has to squeeze his fingers together, taking another deep breath before he turns.

"Where are you going?" Jolly calls after him after he hopped off the stage.

"Away from you."

He doesn't know where he's going, but he knew he needed to get out of there. He keeps his head low and just keeps walking, avoiding the worried glances from their crew. He turns a corner and finds an empty hallway, looking around to find that it’s just him and a few empty boxes.

He lets out the breath he had been holding.

Because it is easy. Noah scoffs. Jolly doesn't know what he's talking about. He doesn't see the bigger picture here, because this is more than just Noah having feelings for Naomi. It's about the change that'll follow. Sure, what if Naomi liked Noah back, but Jolly’s words lingered in the back of his mind. What if someone had already beat him there? He groans.

Noah doesn't like change all that much, which is kind of hilarious when he thinks back to his life, but it's true. He likes consistency. He likes stability. Besides Bad Omens (so far), Naomi and Nicholas were the only consistent things in his life. He couldn't risk messing up what they have, the tiny little world they created with just the three of them, for something like this. He's heard stories of people falling for their best friends and everything fucking up, and he'll be damned if he ever lets that happen to him.

"Noah?" Naomi’s voice snaps him out of his thoughts, and he jumps away from the wall, turning to face her. She’s frowning, eyes scanning him up and down before they meet his gaze. “Is everything alright?”

He doesn’t bother answering, slumping back against the wall and running a shaky hand down his face. He hears her shuffle closer and he squeezes his eyes shut. He can't look at her - he refuses. He's embarrassed, ashamed, because the reason he's so fucking upset is because of her. Well, sort of. He's upset with his feelings for her and how he can't convey them properly like a normal fucking human. He lets out a frustrated, shaky breath and runs his hands through his hair and tugs at the ends, something he tends to do when he's anxious.

"Noah, baby, look at me. Come on." Naomi's voice is so gentle, and Noah's throat tightens.

Baby.

The word itself is almost enough to send him spiraling and definitely did not help the pit in his stomach at all, but he looks at her anyways, swallowing down the lump that's beginning to form. Her lips are settled into a frown and he can see the crease in her forehead, the distress on her face. She hasn't seen him like this in months, he thinks.

"I'm gonna need you to take a big deep breath through your nose and out through your mouth.”

Her fingers wrap around his wrists and gives them a hard squeeze, trying to bring Noah back to the present but he just can't. He can't breathe, he can't move, he can't fucking do anything. His chest feels like there's a ten-ton brick placed right in the center of it and there's nothing he can do about it.

"Noah. Breathe."

He tries to suck in a breath, but it just sounds ragged, and he barely notices the tears that slip down his cheeks. He feels his arms being tugged and looks down to find Naomi crouching to settle into a sitting position, trying to bring him down with her. He follows on shaky legs and automatically crosses them. Naomi squeezes his wrists again and he tries to take another breath.

"Lean your head back for me and take another breath." She says quietly and scratches her nails against the inside of his wrists. He visibly shakes, as if he wasn't already, and he has to suck in another ragged breath, but it goes down a little easier than before. "Good. You're doing so good, Noah. Keep going."

So, he does. He takes another deep breath, and another, and then another after that. Noah doesn't know how long they sit there for, Naomi's eyes piercing into his own as she takes the breaths with him. He has to drop his gaze when it starts becoming too much and his chest feels tight again, so instead he shuts his eyes, trying to focus on getting his breathing normal and the soft touch of her thumbs rubbing circles on the inside of his wrists.

It takes a few beats of silence before he finally feels like he can finally breathe slightly normal, his glossy gaze finding hers.

"Oh, Noah. What happened out there?” He almost breaks at her voice, the sadness seeping through as she sits up on her knees, leaning towards him. Her hands cup his cheeks and wipe away the tears that seem to still be falling. "Think you can tell me what's going on?"

He whines in response, head shaking in her hands. Naomi's frown deepens.

"Jolly’s just being an asshole."

“…Are you sure?” She brushes a few strands of hair that's fallen away from his face, "You know you can tell me anything, bub."

"I can't-" His lips press together to try and hold in another whine, eyes brimming with tears again. "I can't tell you this. If... if I do then it could fuck everything up and I can't do that. Not now when things are just starting to work out.”

Her eyes narrow in confusion as she smooths back his hair, fingertips trailing over his cheek. “I’m sure whatever it is it wouldn’t fuck up everything.”

“You don’t know that!” It comes out louder than he anticipated, and his stomach drops at the way Naomi flinches, but she doesn’t pull away from him. “Sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-“

"Noah, relax." She grips his face gently and tilts his head up to look at her. "It's just me."

He swallows before shakily replying, "That's why I can't tell you."

That has her stilling and he can see the moment her mind comes to screeching halt, body deflating. In the three years he's known her, there's never been a thing he couldn't tell her. Well... a thing he couldn't tell her that he wanted to, and this was one of the things he did not want to tell her.

"Well," She finds her words again, coming back to herself. "I hope that as your best-friend that I've given you a space to always be open and honest with me. Whatever it is, good or bad, you can tell me. We can work it out, whatever you want." Naomi pauses again, lips dipping into a frown. "And if you can't... I understand. I won't pry."

His eyes sting with tears again at her words and he sucks down another ragged breath, throat tightening again. Noah has always hated how understanding Naomi was, and how gentle she can be. It was one of her best and worst attributes because now he feels like the asshole for not telling her how he felt.

"You have to promise me that this won't fuck everything up." He manages to get out. Naomi nods immediately. “Say you promise.”

"I promise."

They stare at each other for a second, then two, then three before Noah's letting out a defeated sigh. Here goes fucking nothing.

"I..." He swallows harshly. "I love you. More than just a friend or whatever and it fucking terrifies me because this... god, this is the closest to normal my life has been in a really long fucking time. Probably the first time ever." Noah lets out a watery laugh. "You... and Nicholas... and this fucking band are so important to me, Mimi, and I'd never want to jeopardize that." Something in Naomi's eyes shift and Noah has to squeeze his shut, too overwhelmed to look at her now as more words tumble from his lips. "That's why I couldn't tell you, because I didn't want to ruin what we have now. I could never forgive myself for doing that."

The silence that follows is deafening. He doesn't dare open his eyes, so he keeps them shut, and he tries to not imagine Naomi's face. He wants her to say something, anything, even if it's to let him down, which is what he's expecting. His heart pounds against his chest when he feels her hands slip from his face and his eyes spring open, preparing to apologize for just ruining everything between them but it never comes.

Instead, he's met with Naomi's lips pressing against his own.

His eyes widen. He doesn't move, can't, not even when she's pulling away, face mere inches from his own. Naomi stares at him expectantly, waiting, full lips slightly swollen from the pressure of the kiss and face a light shade of crimson. Noah can only blink - once, twice, and then a third time before dropping his eyes to her mouth.

He's thought about what it would be like to kiss Naomi, to feel her lips against his own just once. He knows it's corny, but he thought it would be like the movies where fireworks would erupt inside of him, body buzzing from excitement that he's practically shaking, but it was none of that. Actually, it was something better. In those brief moments he's never felt so... at peace. Instead of buzzing with excitement it was a warm feeling that spread throughout his body, starting from his toes expanding all the way to the very top of his head.

"Noah..."

Her voice breaks him out of his head, and he doesn't miss the slight waver to it, like she was on the verge of tears. His eyes find hers again and they're brimmed with tears, but her lips are slowly tugging into a smile now. His chest swirls with excitement and he reaches for her, hands settling on her waist as she slowly climbs into his lap, her legs resting on either side of his hips.

"I know I'm a really good fucking friend, but I hope you know I wouldn't cross this damn country just for anyone." She says through a watery laugh and has to pull away to wipe at her face as more tears fell. Noah's fingers dig into her hips, scared to let her go. She's never been so close before.

He looks up at her with a dazed expression. "...Huh?"

She laughs again, this time much louder, and leans forward to press her forehead against his. Her hands come up to cup his cheeks again, her nose nudging Noah's.

"I love you, you dumbass. I thought it was fucking obvious."

Oh.

Naomi tilts her head forward to brush her lips against his again before pulling back all too soon, acting as if she was too shy to continue even further. He digs his fingers into her hips again without really thinking and loosens his grip, scared he was hurting her. He just needed to make sure she was real. That this was real and not just his fucked-up imagination trying to hurt him. Her eyes flutter shut, and she lets out her own shaky breath, her hands moving from his cheeks to the back of his neck.

Noah's the one who leans in this time, lips slotting against Naomi's. He gets the same feeling that he did just seconds before, the warmth filling his veins, and the feeling of peace engulfing him whole. Naomi lets out a tiny little noise, almost like a whine, and that spurs him on. It's overwhelming, the way her lips feel against his and how natural it feels to have her in his hold, and his arms circle around her waist to bring her that much closer to him.

He needs to feel her everywhere.

"Noah? Mimi?"

Folio's voice has Mimi pulling away from him, eyes glossed over, and lips swollen from the contact. She gives him a sheepish smile before crawling off his lap and he feels himself physically deflate at the loss of contact but knew that the position they were in before would raise a few questions, especially from Nick. Plus, he can't keep his mouth shut, so the second he sees Naomi in Noah's lap it's game over. Everyone in the damn building would know in less than 5 seconds.

She stands and holds a hand out for him which he gladly takes, legs shaky as he stands. He feels better, he thinks, rummaging through his mind for any of those previous anxious thoughts. He finds none and instead realizes the jitteriness is from the kiss, and his face flushes at the thought.

"There you are." Folio sounds relieved as he rounds the corner, the corners of his mouth tugging into a smile as he steps into the hallway. "Everything alright?"

Noah glances at Mimi from the corner of his eye and finds her nodding, giving Folio a bright smile.

"Yeah, I think so." She looks up at him now, her smile changing to something softer.

"Uh, yeah." Noah finds his voice finally, clearing his throat and stares at Naomi a beat longer before looking off towards Nick. "Sorry about that.”

Nick shrugs and rubs at his neck sheepishly. "You're good, man. Jolly and I were just teasing you, and we're sorry for, uh... causing this."

"Nah, it's fine. Don't apologize." He waves him off and relief washes over Nick.

"Cool." Folio's eyes scan the two of them briefly before looking up and down the hallway, confusion written all over his face. "Where's Nicholas?"

That has Noah stilling and his eyes dart to Mimi.

"What about him?" She questions, eyebrows scrunching.

"He said he was coming to check on you guys..." His words trail off, head tilting.

"Are you sure he came this way?" Her tone stirs something inside of Noah.

Even if he had come this way, Noah wouldn't have noticed. He was too immersed in Naomi and the way she felt in his hands, in his arms, and the way her lips easily slid over his... His fingers twitch at his sides, the urge to reach out and grab her becoming stronger by the second.

"Huh. I swear I saw him walk this way." Folio says, almost dumbfounded, and his shoulders go up into another shrug. "Oh well. Maybe he's in the bathroom, I don't know. Anyways, glad everything's alright. Do you need anything or...?"

“Uh, nah. I’m good now.” He throws a thumbs up for added emphasis and Folio laughs, giving him one back.

“Sweet.” He looks like he’s about to leave and the stress in Noah’s shoulders drop for just a second before Nick is turning back towards them. “Would I be a dick to ask you to come back and help? We’re kind of struggling without you and Nicholas.”

“Oh, shit. Yeah, I can come help.” He’s almost forgotten why they were here in the first place. They literally have a show in a few short hours. Mimi looks as if she’s just remembered that as well, eyes widening, and Nick laughs at their reactions.

“Thanks, man.”

They all shuffle out of the hallway and back into the main room, seeing only Jolly and a few people from their crew working at setting their gear up. Noah feels bad for running off like that and knows he’ll have to make it up to them tomorrow. He notices Naomi walking the opposite direction out of the corner of his eye and he stops her, fingers circling around her arm.

“We’ll talk later, yeah?” He tries to keep his voice low when he notices Nick stop for a second to watch them before wandering back to the stage. Mimi’s eyes gaze up at him, lips quirking up.

“Of course. If you want.”

“I do.” His hand drops from her arm and briefly brushes her hand, and he has to bite his lip to stop his own smile from growing. “Catch me before the show?”

He doesn’t miss the flush in her cheeks when their fingers brush together and she turns her head. “Okay.”

The pull from each other and Noah can’t help but watch her walk away before finally making his way back to the stage to find both Jolly and Folio staring at him.

“What?” He questions as he pulls himself up on the stage.

“What the hell was that?” Jolly questions, but Noah doesn’t miss the teasing grin on his lips. He blushes.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, man.”

“Bullshit.” Nick whistles, eyeing Noah before glancing across the room. “I knew something happened in that hallway. You could cut the tension with a fucking knife, bro.”

He laughs it off, but his cheeks beat up even more. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Alright, alright. Enough teasing Noah. We’ve done enough of that today.” Jolly gives Noah a sheepish smile before clapping his hands together. “Let’s hurry and get this shit done.”

…

Nicholas is the first to notice Noah jump off the stage, head down as he practically runs out of the main room. Mimi notices next, back straightening as they both watch Noah run into a hallway, away from view. Something inside him turns and his eyes snap towards Jolly who's already looking at him, lips turned down. The older male shakes his head and mouths "I don't know" before going back to unloading their equipment.

"I'll be right back." He hears Naomi mumble, and before he could respond she's already placing whatever shirt she had been about to hang up down and rushing off.

Nicholas drops the shirt he was holding and turns the opposite direction, marching his way towards the stage, eyes narrowing at Jolly's back.

"Dude, what the fuck did you do?"

Jolly turns around. "Why do you think I did something?"

"Well, you were the last one to talk to him before he fucking ran off." Nicholas throws his arms around before placing his hands on his hips, almost like an angry dad. "What did you say to him?"

"Nothing."

"Oh, bullshit-"

"Nick, calm down." Folio cuts in, coming out from behind his drum set to look down at Nicholas from the stage. "It wasn't anything bad - Noah just freaked out. You know how he is. Mimi's with him so he's probably fine now."

Nicholas presses his lips together and breathes deeply through his nose, trying his very best to calm down. He hates being upset, especially with his friends, but when it comes to Noah, he can't help but be protective.

"I swear it wasn't bad." Jolly's swinging his legs over the side of the stage, sitting in front of him now. "I just... told him to get over whatever he was going through and to tell Mimi how he felt. He kind of freaked out and just... ran off."

His eyes widen at Jolly’s words.

"You wanted him to... tell Mimi how he felt about her?"

Jolly nods. "We're all kind of sick seeing him stare at her like a kicked little puppy and we all know how he feels about her. Why not?"

"And it's not like she doesn't feel the same. We all see how she looks at him. It's kind of gross." Nick says before going back to his set up. “Plus, who fucking flies halfway across the country for a friend? No offense.”

Nicholas feels his stomach drop at the others words, immediately shaking his head.

"She came to see all of us." He replies, defensively almost, and both Folio and Jolly give him a look that reads seriously? He frowns. "She told me that."

"Yeah, I'm sure she did." Folio mutters to himself and Nicholas can't stop the way his eyes narrow at the younger boy.

"She told all of us that, man, and I'm sure that's part of it but we all know the real reason why she's here." Jolly points towards the hallway that both Noah and Naomi ran to, and Nicholas feels his stomach turn.

He doesn't say anything to that. Truthfully, he's not sure what he can say. He stares off towards the hallway, brain foggy as he tries to wrap his mind around the boys words before he comes back to himself, clearing his throat.

"I'm gonna go check on them, see if he needs anything." Nicholas mumbles, almost to himself, and Jolly gives him a smile.

"Do whatever you gotta do, man."

He gives Jolly a half assed smile before turning on his heels and walking towards the hallway, hands clammy. His heart pounds in his ears with each step he takes, and he swears the turning in his stomach that was once nerves is now nausea. Great.

Nicholas turns the corner and immediately stops, heart pounding against his chest when he sees Noah sitting on the ground, face wet with tears... and Naomi settling into his lap. She says something to him but they're too far down the hall that Nicholas doesn't catch it, and his throat tightens the second they both lean into each other.

He shouldn't have followed. He should've stayed right where he was, unpacking their shirts for the night to hang up, but he couldn't forget the look on Noah's face as he ran past them. He definitely couldn't forget the way Naomi dropped everything and followed after him, running into the hallway in search of Noah. He couldn't forget the rage he felt at Jolly in those few minutes, thinking the other said something to trigger Noah’s anxiety. He should've minded his fucking business, but when it comes to Noah and Mimi, he knows he never could.

His eyes sting and he swears he feels his heart snap into a billion little pieces the second their lips meet. Naomi's hands grip his face and Noah's fingers dig into her hips, and Nicholas has to force himself to look away. He knew this would happen - he fucking knew it would. He's known the second he met Naomi and saw the way Noah looked at her, like she hung up all the stars in the goddamn sky.

He doesn't stay long, doesn't make his presence known as he was going to, and instead rushes off to the bathroom. It's a single, so he's able to lock himself in there, and leans back against the door. His head hits the door with a thud, and he sucks in a ragged breath, eyes squeezing shut.

Nicholas knows he shouldn't feel this way - heartbroken - but he can't help it. It's one thing to see the person you love kissing someone else, but when it's both of them... it's a whole other world of hurt. His chest feels like it's been ripped open and someone reached deep inside to pull his heart out, then held it in front of his face and ripped it to shreds.

He hates that there's not a goddamn thing he can do about it.

He’s going to have to stand there, wait for them to tell him that they confessed their feelings and he'll have to put a smile on his face and tell them he's happy for them. And in a way, he is. He's only ever wanted for them to be happy, but maybe a small part of him had a feeling it was going to be him. That he would be lucky enough to be the one making them happy. It was all wishful thinking, a fucking dream that would never happen, and he has to press himself further into the door to hold himself up right, legs weak as he slides down.

Nicholas lets himself cry, face crumbling as the first few tears fall. He pulls his legs to his chest and wraps his arms around them, burying his face in his knees. His body shakes with each cry and he knows if someone was close, they could hear him, but he didn't care. He's let himself not feel anything about this for far too long, and if he's going to get over it, he should finally let himself feel.

He doesn't know how long he sat there, body shaking with sobs, but by time he's done he feels... exhausted. He feels sick, stomach twisting with each sniffle and he lets himself stand on shaky legs. He finds himself in the mirror, eyes puffy and face blotchy. He stares at his reflection for a few more moments before he turns the faucet on, splashing water over his face.

He squeezes his eyes shut and counts to ten, hoping to calm himself down some before patting his face dry. He turns to face the door and swallows thickly because he knows the second he leaves the safety of this bathroom, he'll have to put a smile on his face and act like everything's okay. As if he didn't just sob his fucking heart out in this damn bathroom for the last ten minutes. It sucks, but he’s been acting like everything's alright since the almost kiss, so he guesses he can continue to act like nothing's wrong a little longer.

With a shaky breath, he pushes the door open and makes his way back to the main room where everything was being set up. He sees Noah first, who's back on stage helping Jolly out with something, and he turns, almost as if he could feel his presence. Nicholas smiles, hoping it isn't too obvious he's faking, and Noah gives him one back, relieved.

"Was wondering where you went." He calls, hopping off the stage to make his way towards Nicholas. "Folio said you wandered off like 15 minutes ago."

"Oh, uh." His voice cracks and Noah's eyes narrow. Nicholas clears his throat. "I was going to look for you, but they told me Naomi got to you first, and then I uh. I had to pee! So, I went to the bathroom. Then got distracted by my phone." His words come out rushed. “Twitter is so addictive.”

"...You were on Twitter the entire time?"

"Yeah, but that’s beside the point," Nicholas quickly responds, "are you okay?"

For some reason this surprises Noah, eyes widening just a bit and Nicholas doesn't miss the glance he casts in Naomi's direction. His stomach drops.

"Uh, yeah. I'm good. Mimi helped a lot."

"Oh, cool. That's... that's great. Awesome. I'm glad. " Nicholas rambles on. He holds in a breath and Noah's eyes scan his face, his lips slowly dipping down into a frown.

"You promise you're alright?"

"Of course," He finally takes a deep breath, trying to calm his rapidly beating heart. "I'm just... tired. Didn't sleep well last night. The van's cramped as shit and I can never get comfortable."

Nicholas thinks he's convinced him well enough because instead of replying Noah wraps an arm around Nicholas' shoulder and tugs him into his side, walking off towards the stage. He feels like his eyes are bulging out of his fucking head the second he's wrapped in Noah's embrace and he tries to pull away, but for some reason this skinny little bastard's hold is way too strong.

He's rambling on about something, he thinks it has to do with Jolly and their equipment, but Nicholas is barely listening. He's too focused on the way Noah's arm feels wrapped around him and he gets a sudden sick feeling in his stomach, eyes darting across the room towards Naomi. She's already looking at them, eyebrows scrunched together but the second her eyes fall on Nicholas her face relaxes in an instant. His heart leaps into his throat and he tries swallowing it down, but the smile she gives him is enough to bring it right back up.

This is going to be a lot harder than he thought.

…

Naomi watches the two boys interact, her skin buzzing with nerves. She's still not able to process what just happened, the kiss, the confession... her head is reeling. She should be excited - happy – and she is, swear. She's never denied her feelings for Noah, always knowing that they were there somewhere inside of her, but she can't help but feel almost... sad.

Her eyes land on Nicholas and her mind wanders back to a few years ago to her first tattoo session with him. She thinks back to how he took care of her, making sure she was alright the entire time and the tenderness behind his touch. She remembers just how badly she wanted to kiss him in that moment, to feel his lips against hers. She also remembers the look in his eyes, and the way she knew that he wanted it just as much as her.

She shivers and has to shake her head from the thought. She can't be thinking of kissing her best friend after she had just confessed to her other best friend. She groans to herself, head already aching from her thoughts. Mimi knew that she couldn't help how she felt. It does happen - falling for two people at once. She's not the first person to do it, and won't be the last, but it just makes things so complicated.

Almost to the point where she doesn’t even want to deal with it.

"Ready for tonight?" Folio's voice breaks her out of her thoughts, and she whips around to look at him, lips pulling into a small smile.

"As ready as I'll ever be." She looks over the merchandise before her before looking at Nick. "I've never been a merch girl before, so we'll see how it goes."

"It isn't too hard." He says with a shrug, leaning against the table. "Plus, you'll have Nicholas here to help.”

Shit. She forgot about that.

"I'll be fine." She decides to say and gives Folio a tight-lipped smile. "Nicky is always the best teacher, so I'm sure I'll have it down in no time."

He smiles at her and even gives her a pat on the back, hand sliding up to grip her shoulder gently. "We really appreciate you coming out here. More than you know."

Mimi gives him a real smile, not all tight-lipped, and leans into his touch. She hadn't lied when said she'd do anything for them to Noah on the phone weeks ago, because she would. Not even just for him and Nicholas, she'd even offer a hand to Jolly and Folio, people she now considers some of her closest friends.

"That's what friends are for. Don't thank me."

"Whatever." Nick laughs and gives her shoulder another squeeze before he turns to leave back for the stage. "If you need anything, let one of us know."

Naomi waves him off before she gets back to unboxing and setting up the merch for tonight's show. What happened with Noah was a bit of a setback and she wishes he hadn’t whisked Nicholas towards the stage so she could have some help, but she knew she could do this on her own. She'll just have to talk to him before the show starts and make sure she did everything right.

Her stomach twists as the thought of also talking to Noah crosses her mind, and she lets out a sigh. She brings a hand up to rub at her temples as the dull ache in her head grew. Why was this so complicated? Why did she feel so fucking guilty? She didn’t exactly understand why, but a part of her isn’t too keen on figuring it out anytime soon.

She quietly gets everything set up for the night, going through the instructions in her head that Nicholas told her earlier in the day. She doesn’t even realize how much time has passed until the bands go through their sound check, trying to hurry before the crowd is let in. With too much going on, she doesn't end up getting to talk to Noah or Nicholas before the show. With all the rushing around, they barely even were able to stop and say hi.

Before she knows it, the show is starting, and to her surprise she has a steady line during Bad Omens set. She was able to catch a glimpse here and there in between talking to a few fans, but she was mostly kept busy throughout it all, which she was thankful for.

Naomi feels like she can finally breathe by the time the nights over and they were packing up to set off for their next destination. Her and Nicholas were wordlessly putting away the merch for the night, the older male being much quieter than normal. He's barely even said a few words to her since he came back to help after getting off stage, only giving her strained smiles when she said anything to him. She figured he was just tired, which worried her, because it was his turn to drive tonight.

"Feeling alright, Nicky?" She questioned as she closed up one of the last boxes. He looks over at her and there's something in his stare that she can't place, but it makes her blood run cold.

"Yeah." He replies shortly, and she watches his throat bob as he swallowed harshly before closing up his own box. "Just tired."

She frowns. "Do you want me to drive for you tonight?"

"No."

It's a short response and his back is turned towards her now, which makes her frown deepen even more. She takes a step towards him and opens her mouth to say something but comes to a stop when she feels a hand on her shoulder.

"Hey."

She turns quickly to find Noah behind her and her worry from seconds ago vanishes the second their eyes meet. Naomi can't help but smile and Noah does the same, leaning against the table beside her.

"Oh, hi."

She feels giddy, almost like a schoolgirl, and she mentally scolds herself at how embarrassing that is. This is Noah, her best friend... that told her he loved her and then they kissed. No big deal, right?

"How'd tonight go?" Noah questions. She shrugs.

"Alright, I think."

He snorts and looks over at Nicholas who still has his back turned. "Think she's merch girl material, Nicky?"

"Sure."

They both narrow their eyes at him, and confusion wraps itself in Noah's expression. He stares at him another moment before looking down at Mimi, and she can only shrug.

"Alright." He sounds unconvinced but a smile finds his way on his lips again. "Think you got it down for tomorrow? I could probably come out and help, too, if you want."

"I think she'll be alright, Noah. You don't need to hover." Nicholas lets out an annoyed huff as he gathers up their things and both Mimi and Noah stare at him before glancing at each other.

What the fuck?

Noah looks like he's having an internal battle with himself, lips slowly tugging back down into a frown. All she wants to do is wrap him up in a hug, but she stays where she is as she sees him step forward.

Noah moves over to Nicholas now and places a gentle hand on his back, lips pursed into a pout. "Dude, if you’re tired, I can drive the first half for you.”

Nicholas jumps at the touch, and Naomi assumes he just wasn't expecting it, and turns his head to look at the younger boy for a second.

"I’m fine, Noah." His words are clipped, and she sees the moment when Noah's face falls, but he recovers it quickly.

"Well, okay. I got you a few extra red bulls, they're in the front with your stuff." His hand lingers on his back for a second too long before he takes a step back, giving Nicholas a gentle smile. "Also got some of those skittles you like. Hopefully all the caffeine and sugar will keep you awake."

Nicholas pauses and he returns the smile Noah gives him, but it looks pained. She’s starting to think he’s more than just tired.

"Thanks." Is all he responds before he picks up a box of shirts, nodding his head towards the exit. "I'm gonna start hauling this stuff back to the van."

Noah nods and takes another step away from him to make room, and they watch Nicholas wordlessly walk away. He doesn’t even look at them and stares straight ahead. She’s not sure what’s going on, and she’s positive it’s something more than just being tired, and the fact he hasn’t told her or Noah what’s wrong is starting to worry her.

"So..." Noah clearing his throat snaps Naomi out of her thoughts, finally looking away from where Nicholas once stood. Her eyes flicker up towards him. "About earlier..."

Her mouth drops into an O and her cheeks burn, probably already beginning to flush.

"Oh, yeah. That."

Noah snorts out a laugh. "That?"

"What else am I supposed to call it?" She says in a hushed tone, stepping closer to him. She looks around before continuing, "Like, oh, when we made out in the hallway? Yeah, I remember that."

Noah laughs fully now, eyes scrunching as he throws his head back. A few people stare but Naomi doesn't mind, too busy thinking about how much she's always enjoyed his laugh. She smiles.

"We don't have to call it anything." He says once he's calmed down and looks around himself before his eyes fall back to hers, reaching out to take her hand. She blushes but lets him lace their fingers together. "And we don't have to talk about it right now, but I'd just... I'd like to know where you stand on it."

He looks nervous now, eyes casted down to their hands. His thumb brushes against the back of her hand and she has to stop herself from smiling at the gesture.

"Where I stand?" Her head tilts. "What do you mean?"

Noah shrugs but doesn’t respond, staring down at their connected hands.

"Dude. I cried and told you I loved you. I feel like that should tell you where I stand pretty well."

"Okay, but like I need you to verbally tell me again or else I'm just going to think you did all of that to make me feel better." He whines out and looks away from her bashfully.

She can't help but frown, chest twisting at the thought of Noah thinking she did all of that just to make him calm down. She pulls her hand away from his and steps forward, taking another quick glance around the room to find absolutely no one paying attention to them. She reaches up to cup his cheeks and pulls his head down to stare at her.

"Noah," She hums, thumbs brushing against the tops of his flushing cheeks. "I wasn't saying that just to say it. I love you."

Noah chews on his bottom lip and she can feel his eyes scanning her face, trying to search for any indication that she may be lying. Her heart breaks at that. She can see the worry and doubt in his gaze, and it stays for just a beat longer, but it finally vanishes.

“That was kind of corny.” Noah finally says, a teasing grin pulling at his lips. She lets out a groan, hands dropping from his face.

“We were having a really nice moment and you fucking ruined it.”

Noah laughs, the doubt his face once held long gone, and all Naomi wants to do is lean up and kiss that stupid grin off his face.

“10 minutes till curfew!” Someone yells from across the room.

They finally pull apart and pack up the rest of the boxes, hauling them off to the van. It's a fairly quick process and before she knows it, they're all piling into the van for the night, getting into their designated seats for the next few hours. She practically begged for Noah to let her sit up front, so the other boys can have the backseats to at least try and get some rest. She even asked Nicholas if it was alright but all he did was shrug, buckling himself in the driver's seat.

The beginning of the drive was loud, Jolly and Noah talking about tonight's show with Folio chiming in every so often. Nicholas didn't say much but did say a few things here and there, but never once looked away from the road. Not even an hour later, though, the only thing that could be heard was silence.

"Everything alright?" Nicholas' voice is quiet over the hum of the radio, and she can faintly hear someone snoring in the seat behind her, probably Jolly. She has to stifle her laughter as she looks over at him.

"Yeah," She hums, shifting in her seat. "Everything's peachy."

There's a moment of silence before he speaks again. "You know I can always tell when you're lying, right?"

She freezes, glancing up at Nicholas. He's already looking at her, briefly, before he focuses back on the road. Her eyes drop to his hands and watches as they grip the steering wheel, and she's surprised they're not turning white with how tight his grip is. She shifts in her seat again, pulling a leg up to rest underneath her.

"I wasn't lying." Her eyes drop to her lap and she picks at her nails. "Everything is alright, Nicky. Promise."

"Okay." She looks up and sees his grip loosen around the wheel before his gaze catches hers again. "Next question. If there's something going on, you would tell me. Yes or no?"

This one catches her off guard and the air gets stuck in her throat, only for a moment, and she tries to swallow it away.

"Elaborate."

She's stalling. Naomi barely had any time to sit and talk to Noah about what happened earlier, let alone think about what she would tell Nicholas. Oddly enough she's scared to tell him, scared to see his reaction because for some reason she feels like it's going to screw everything up. Just like Noah had mentioned.

"Like..." He drags the word out. "Let's say something happened earlier... and it was kind of huge... because it could change everything, you would still tell me.”

Oh.

She feels her heart pound against her chest, and she looks down again. It shouldn't be this fucking hard to tell Nicholas that she and Noah kissed. It shouldn't be this hard to tell him that she loves Noah and wants to be with him. These are things you share with your best friend, so why does it feel so wrong?

It's the same reason you never told Noah about your almost kiss with Nicholas, her mind yells at her. She swallows thickly and ignores the voice in her head.

"Well," Naomi starts, picking her head up. "If something did happen, and it was something that could change everything, maybe I'm trying to find the best way to tell you."

Another moment of silence washes over them and she tries to read his face, tries to see how he handles her words, but there’s nothing. Not even a twitch. He just stares blankly at the road, lips pressed in a line.

“If that’s the case,” His voice was much lower than before, “then I want to remind you that you’re my best friend. You should be able to tell me anything.”

She sighs. “It’s complicated, Nicky.”

“How so?”

That she can’t exactly answer. With another sigh she looks out the window, barely able to see the world passing by with how dark it was.

“The second I say something, it’ll change everything, and…” She shrugs. “Maybe I don’t want anything to change. Maybe I like the way things are now.”

“How do you know things will change?”

“God, you are so full of questions tonight.” She tries to keep her voice light, but the sharpness is heard from a mile away. She hears Nicholas sigh next to her.

“Mimi.” Another long sigh. “You know all I’ve ever wanted was for you to be happy, right?”

She finally looks at him again, lips dipping into a frown. He’s focused on the road, eyes never wavering, but she knows he’s waiting for her to respond. She nods.

“Of course, but-“

“Then if whatever happened could end up making you happy,” Nicholas cuts her off, eyes flickering towards her before looking back to the road, “then why should I let that come between us? That’s kind of ridiculous.”

She doesn’t respond, letting his words sink in. He’s right, in a way, but she still thinks he doesn’t fully understand. For the last three years it’s just been the three of them – Noah, Nicholas, and Naomi. If her and Noah make this thing official, it could change the entire dynamic, and for some reason the thought of losing this type of bond with the two boys makes her sick to her stomach.

“You don’t have to tell me now.” Nicholas continues. “But as long as you’re happy, and as long as Noah’s happy,” She doesn’t miss the emphasis on the younger boys’ name, “then I’m happy.”

His words make something in her chest ache, eyes burning with tears. She stares hard at the side of his face, begging him with her eyes to look at her, but he never takes his gaze off the road.

“Nicky.”

“Mimi.”

He finally looks at her now, and she swears she sees tears brimming his eyes, but the van is so dark she probably just made it up. She tries to swallow her own away, throat tightening as a fresh new set burned at her eyes.

"I know change can be scary," Nicholas starts off slowly, a sigh slipping out after his words, "but sometimes... change is good. You shouldn't stop yourself from experiencing this because you're worried about what other people think."

He looks at her now and she has to bite her lip to hold back the tears burning at her eyes. When the hell did she get so emotional? Nicholas' eyes dart to her lap and then back up to her, and they're both reaching out at the same time. She laces their fingers and squeezes their hands together. He smiles, though it's small.

"I know I keep saying it but it’s true… all I want is for you to be happy. Can you do that for me?"

She pauses. “I can try.”

“Good.” That answer seems to satisfy him enough, eyes dropping to their hands one more time before he focuses back on the road.

For some reason she feels relieved by his words and gives his hand another squeeze. She tries telling herself that this was the universes way of letting her know that things will be alright, but something twisting in her gut is telling her the complete opposite.

She chooses to ignore it and holds onto Nicholas’ hand tightly.

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