#HE NEEDS A MOMENT TO SORT EVERYTHING OUT. MAYBE MULTIPLE MONTHS

[wormedw00d]

people are feeling bad for denji but i feel like asa is the one who was assaulted. we have yet to see how denji will react from this. i dont think hes going to feel like he was taken advantage of, at least not immediately. i have a stronger feeling asa will be the one traumatized.

oh mannnnnn im also interested in seeing asas reaction, esp since she was trying to be so understanding to him in prev chapters. personally wouldnt say she was assaulted, but her agency in this was definitely violated oh my goddd

also her being traumatized over this would be interesting considering shes very selfish but rarely ever acts on it yk like did yoru do that Because of influence from that part of asa. food for thought but ultimately the dubcon nature of it all is like. man. he isnt sure of what he wants and the chance for him to figure it out himself gets stripped from him Every Single Time can someone give my boy a fucking break to think

[imaginedisish]

Lover, You Should've Come Over (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Get ready to cry. This is based on a request I received yesterday where the reader gets jealous of Jean. I tried to take this in a different direction just because I feel like this is a popular trope that has been done by many fantastic writers. It's also inspired by "Lover, You Should've Come Over," by Jeff Buckley. Hope you guys enjoy.

Summary: You've been pining after Logan since you joined the X-Men, and you're convinced he'll never love you back. He’s obsessed with Jean—always has been. Or...maybe he's not.

Warnings: SMUT 18+ MINORS DNI, Oral (f!receiving), fingering, PIV (unprotected...pls WRAP IT UP THIS IS FICTION!), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, f!reader/afab!reader, telepathic!reader, cocky!Logan, softdom!Logan (kinda? yeah.), non-canon compliant (you'll see what I mean...no spoilers), cursing, angst, feelings, implied mutant trauma (kinda a given in X-Men), probably some grammatical errors, I think that's it.

Word Count: 4,197 sorry

Wanting someone you can’t have—it’s that crying in the shower, pulling your legs into your chest, screaming into your pillow kind of heartache. You’ve come to know the feeling intimately. It’s an awful, horrid, stomach-churning kind of pain.

But you want him. Despite all the pain, you want him. Logan Howlett. You can’t seem to keep him off your mind. For the few months you’ve been one of the X-Men, Logan has been a constant. He’s always there—whether it’s to train or just to talk. But you know he’ll never want you. You see the way he looks at Jean. You wish you didn’t. You wish you were oblivious to that sort of thing. But you don’t need to use your telepathy to reach inside his mind for proof—you just know. 

You keep holding on, savoring every moment, every interaction you have with Logan. You sit on the lawn of the mansion with him, watching the sunset. You’ll come down to the living room late at night to find him sitting in front of the T.V. and join him. Sometimes he’ll drape an arm around your shoulder. He’ll draw circles into your side as you drift off. You’ll wake up the next morning back in your bed, Logan having carried you there long after you’ve fallen asleep. 

You’ve decided you’ll take all he’ll give you, even if it means nothing to him—even if it's platonic. 

But tonight, you wish something would come up through the floor and swallow you whole. A void, a black hole maybe. That would do the trick. Disappearing would make everything so much easier. The second-best thing to disappearing is sitting in the kitchen of the mansion, alone, with a pint of ice cream. You decide to practice your powers, moving the silver spoon with your mind, concentrating as you dig the spoon into the top of the pint and into your mouth. 

You hear a warm, familiar chuckle from the doorway as the spoon lands on your tongue. You look up, and there’s Logan, arms tucked across his chest. “Wish I could do that.”

You can’t help but smile around the spoon as he strides over to you, taking a seat on the stool next to yours. You slide the spoon out of your mouth and rest it on the napkin next to the ice cream. “Hey,” you mutter, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. 

His shoulder brushes against yours. He’s so close it hurts. You try to shove the pain down and enjoy the moment. 

“Was hoping I’d run into you down here. Thought maybe you’d be in bed already,” Logan says, his eyes locked on yours. 

You shake your head, doing your best to keep that fake smile plastered on your face. “Couldn’t sleep.” 

You can see the sudden concern appear on his face. “Everything okay?” He asks, tilting his head to the side. Fuck, you think to yourself. Maybe he’s catching on. 

“Yeah,” you murmur, looking down at the ice cream. “Just still having a hard time adjusting.” It wasn’t a lie. You had always struggled with your powers, longing to hide, to shove them down. Your whole life, you were either a freak or something to be used—whatever was most convenient in the moment. The struggle between visibility and forcing yourself to be “normal” was an impossible battle. You were no stranger to being taken advantage of or being experimented on.

Logan was the first person who understood that—understood you. He made you feel seen in a way that no one ever had. It’s part of the reason you’ve fallen so hard for him. 

His hand is suddenly on your back, yanking you from your thoughts and back to reality. “I’m here,” he whispers. “Whatever you need, anything.” 

Anything. You wish he really meant it. 

“Thanks, Lo.” You smile up at him, letting your eyes linger on his lips for just a second before looking back down at the ice cream. “Want some?” You ask, nodding at the pint. 

“Only if you feed it to me the way you did when I walked in.” You can hear the smirk in his voice as he taps the spoon. You side-eye him incredulously. “I mean it. Wanna see you do it again.” There’s a husk in his voice, a shift in his timber that sends a chill down your spine. You try not to think about it too much as you pick up the spoon with your mind. 

You guide the spoon inside the pint, scraping the top, and lifting it up towards Logan’s mouth. He opens wide as you lead the spoon inside, his tongue hitting the bottom as his lips close around it. The implications of the moment don’t dawn on you until he’s grabbing the spoon with his hands and sucking on the metal. There’s something undeniably suggestive about this. 

Heat rises to your chest as you replay the image of him taking the spoon into his mouth in your mind. It’s so intimate, so domestic. And, certainly, something else—something that makes you tick, that makes that familiar fire grow deep within your belly. 

But—like always—the moment doesn’t last long. You wince, feeling someone itching against your thoughts, prodding at your mental shields, begging to be let in. Suddenly, there’s another voice in your mind. 

I gotta try that myself. You flinch at the sound, taking the spoon from Logan’s hand and shooting it across the room to where you sense the person’s presence. You turn around, and there’s Jean, resisting the spoon’s trajectory with her mind. 

It's almost pressing into her skull, shaking in mid-air, ready to break her skin. You gasp and drop the spoon, embarrassed to have registered her as a threat. “I’m so sorry,” you say, watching as Jean crouches down and picks up the spoon. “I didn’t know that was you in there, I swear.”

You expect Logan to stand from the chair and rush over to Jean, but he stays next to you, glued to your side, the palm of his hand resting gently on your back. “Jean.” His voice is firm, almost cold and harsh. “What was that?” You’re surprised at how curt he’s being with her, surprised he remembered that you’re sensitive to people probing around your mind, even if it’s friendly. 

Jean mutters a curse. “I was just communicating with her. I didn’t think she’d—” 

Logan stands, his hand still steady at your back. “Don’t do that again. Ever.” His voice is louder now, heavier. 

She whispers an apology, setting the spoon on the counter and walking towards the doorway. “I really didn’t mean to hurt you,” she says. “I should’ve remembered given your…” she pauses, searching for the word, “past…that it wouldn’t be a good idea.” She takes another tentative step. “I’ll leave you two alone,” she says, and she slips out. 

Logan settles back into the stool next to you. You’re shocked that he’s still here, that he hasn’t run away yet. You can hear him breathe—in and out—gentle, long breaths. You close your eyes and listen, the sound calming you down. You’re still expecting him to leave, to walk away, but he doesn’t. 

“You okay?” He asks, your eyes fluttering open, his voice hanging in the air. His head is tilted to the side, worry painted across his face. 

“Y-yeah. I’m fine,” you stutter, your voice cracking. “You don’t have to stay with me. You can go check on her if you want.” You nod towards the doorway—to wherever Jean wandered off to. 

“And why would I do that?” Is all he says in return, furrowing his brows. 

You put on that fake smile again. “I almost jammed a spoon into her forehead because she spoke to me telepathically.” You shake your head. “Don’t really think my reaction was particularly friendly—or something that good people do.” You break eye contact with Logan and look to the other side of the kitchen. “Plus, you two are…close.”

“Hey.” His voice is firm again, but gentle this time, reassuring. His hand slips across your back and rests on your waist. You’re so shocked by the contact that you almost miss what he says. “First of all, she knows better. Charles warned her about what you’ve been through. And second…” He trails off, smirking at you. “I’d rather be with you.”

Oh? Oh. He’d rather be with you. 

“I just thought, you know, you and Jean were…” You’re too embarrassed to finish the sentence and too nervous to hear him say the words you’ve been dreading most. 

He shakes his head, that smirk still spread across his lips. “No, it’s not Jean I want. Never has been.” 

Your breathing becomes shaky—your heart beating rapidly in your chest. “If it’s not Jean, then—” 

Logan cuts you off as he suddenly moves. His arm lifts from your waist as he stands, turning your stool around so your back is against the cold countertop. He’s gripping the arms of the stool now, caging you in. Your mind is hazy—you can’t concentrate with him this close. 

“You think I do the shit I do with you with Jean too, hm?” He’s towering over you, his head cocking to the side, his voice self-assured and confident. “Think I’m watching movies and sunsets with her? Carrying her to bed, too?” 

You’re overwhelmed, dizzied by his words, his size, him. “Just thought that—”

“Just thought what?” He cuts you off again. “That I didn’t want you, darlin’?” He brings his lips to the shell of your ear, one hand moving from the counter to your hip. “Wanted you this whole time,” he huffs, goosebumps rising on your arms. “Only you.” He presses a kiss to your ear, and then just underneath your jaw. 

“Logan,” you whisper. “W-want you too,” you choke out, your hands coming up and around his back. “B-but someone’s gonna walk in on us.” 

He’s ignoring you, biting your pulse point lightly and licking the pain away. “Let them,” he husks, refusing to stop. You instinctively bring your hands up to the nape of his neck, your nails digging in slightly. He groans at the contact, his chest heaving against yours. 

“One of the kids is catch us in here, or somebody else,” you mutter, his face still buried in the crook of your neck. “W-we should—”

“Go to my room.” He finishes your thought. 

“Please.” 

And then he’s picking you up from the chair, his hands under your thighs, grabbing your ass. You wrap your legs around his waist as he prowls out of the kitchen. He looks both ways as he crosses the hallway and makes his way to the stairs. There’s no one in sight. He carries you up the steps and down the hall to his room, practically breaking down the door as he swings it open and slams it shut. 

And then he’s laying you down on his bed, crawling over you, pressing his forehead against yours. “Wanted you in here sooner,” he murmurs, his lips just inches from yours. “Hoped you’d come over one night. You should’ve.”

His lips crash down onto yours before you can find the words to say. He’s starving for you, swallowing your moans as his hands slip under your shirt, his nails digging lightly into your sides. “So fucking beautiful,” he rasps against your lips. Everything is desperate and rushed, hands pawing at bare skin in the dim light of his room. 

Logan tugs on the hem of your shirt, rolling it up your body and over your head. He tosses it to the side as he sits up on his knees, taking you in. He curses under his breath, looking you up and down. 

“Logan,” you whine, arching your back. You need his hands on you again, his lips. Something. Anything. 

“I know, pretty girl,” he soothes, his fingers hooking inside the waistband of your shorts. “Gonna take care of you.” He yanks them down your legs, leaving you in just your bra and panties. 

He pulls off his own shirt, tossing it carelessly, letting it get lost on the floor. He settles back down over you, balancing on his forearm as his free hand finds your waist. He slides up to the bottom of your bra, teasingly pulling on the fabric before slipping his hand behind your back—skillfully unclasping the bra with one easy motion. You arch your back again, the bra straps sliding down your arms as Logan tosses the bra to the floor, too. 

“Fuck,” he mumbles, his hand tracing the curves of your breasts, massaging gently. “Perfect.” He captures your lips in another kiss as his thumb ghosts over your nipples, just barely giving you the relief you need before pinching softly. The pressure feels so good, so right, but it’s not enough. 

He draws circles around your nipples with his thumb, the sensation feeding the aching fire between your legs. Your hips involuntarily lift off the mattress, meeting his. “Need me that bad, huh?” He is always so incredibly cocky, even now—especially now. He knows exactly what he’s doing to you, and what to do next. 

Logan grinds his erection into your core. You can feel how big he is, the weight of him heavy against your cunt even in his jeans. You clench around nothing, whining his name as his strained cock teases your panty-clad pussy. “You want me to make you feel good, pretty girl?”

“Y-yes,” you stutter, biting your lips as his hand leaves your tits and sweeps down your stomach, stopping just above your clit. He slides his fingers down just a bit more, feeling where your arousal seeps through your panties. 

“Already soaking for me, sweetheart.” The bassy timber of his voice stokes that flame deep within your belly. Without warning, he’s hooking his fingers into the waistband of your panties and yanking them down your legs. “Can’t wait anymore, pretty girl,” he whispers. “Wanna taste this pussy.” He kisses your belly button, leaving a trail down the rest of your stomach as his mouth travels to where you need him most. 

There’s something depraved about the way he’s crawling down your body, taking in every inch of you. He spreads your legs apart with the palms of his hands—his thumbs brushing against your bare skin, licking teasingly at your inner thighs as he settles in between them. 

He pauses, looking at you under hooded eyes. You can see the want—no, the need—in the way his muscles flex and how he works his jaw. But he’s hesitating, his breath hot against your core, sending another jolt of desire through your body. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, your eyes searching his for his next move. 

He finally presses a kiss to your clit. “You don’t understand how you make me feel,” he mumbles against your heat, licking a long stripe through your folds and back to your clit. “No idea how long I’ve fucking wanted you.” You throw your head back, whimpering his name as he laps again and again. He’s starving, and you’re the only thing that can satiate his hunger. His tongue swirls around your clit, flicking it, taking it in between his lips and sucking hard. 

Your hips lift off the mattress and Logan quickly moves to hold them down. “You’re not going anywhere, darlin’,” he grunts against you, the vibration of his voice going straight to your core. 

His free hand slips up the inside of your thighs, teasingly climbing higher and higher, his nails skimming your flesh. He’s toying with you, leading you on, taking his time. His fingers finally ghost over your folds, exploring you, stroking up and down as his tongue laps at your cunt. 

Logan prods your entrance with two fingers, slipping in just a bit, testing the waters. “Please,” you beg, pushing your hips down in an attempt to sink his fingers deeper into you. He stops you, his hand still firmly holding your hips down, refusing to give you the release you’re dying for. 

“So fucking impatient, aren’t you?” He tuts. And then he’s shoving two fingers all the way inside you, down to his knuckles. “Such a pretty pussy.”

“F-fuck!” You cry out, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as he sets a relentless pace. He’s drinking you in, sucking roughly, his long fingers pumping in and out with a vengeance. 

“’This what you wanted, pretty girl?” He asks condescendingly in between laps. You’re too fucked out to form a sentence, your legs trembling underneath him. You know he’s loving this—loving that you’re a wet, needy, whimpering mess. 

Your walls squeeze around his fingers, your swollen clit throbbing as he laps at you. You’re so close already. “Lo,” you call out, fisting the sheets of his bed. Everything in here smells like him: pine and mint and musk and tobacco and that thing that’s uniquely Logan. It’s all so overwhelming and overstimulating. You’re ready to fall apart, to melt into nothingness. “S-so close.”

He squeezes your hip. “I know, sweetheart,” he soothes, his pace unwavering as his fingers fuck into you, scissoring inside you, drawing you closer to your climax with that come-hither motion he does so well. Your walls flutter again. “That’s it,” he coos. “Wanna feel you come—wanna know what it tastes like.” He licks harder, faster. “Let go for me, darlin’.” 

He pushes you over the edge, pleasure warming your belly as you let go. It washes over you in waves, his fingers still pumping in and out, his tongue still hanging on to the taste of you. You ride it out, his thumb brushing your hip, coaxing you through it. His fingers slip out of your cunt, but his head is still buried between your legs. You shudder as he licks long, slow stripes through your folds. 

“So fucking sweet,” he growls, still starving for more. “Not done with you yet.”

Fuck. 

But you need more—need his cock deep inside you, pounding into you. You need him in front of you, his lips on yours. 

“Logan,” you whine, your voice shaky and trembling just like the rest of your body. He finally lifts his head, his hair a disheveled mess, your juices glistening on his lips and his chin. The sight of him makes your breath hitch in your throat. There’s a feral, needy look in his eyes. He’s starving for more of you, and you’re not quite sure he’ll ever get enough. 

But he can see your chest heaving and the desire in your own eyes. He knows what you need—he always does. He sits up on his knees, staring at you while he slowly unbuckles his belt. The tension is palpable, the clinking of his belt against the hardwood floors cutting through it like a hot knife—the only sounds the melding of your quick breaths and the shuffling of bed sheets as Logan finally comes up to meet you. 

He's balancing on his forearm as he unbuttons his jeans, undoing the zipper and shoving the denim and his boxers down his legs. You swallow at the sight of his cock springing against his stomach. You had felt his erection before, but he is far bigger than you ever anticipated. 

With one hand on his cock, he lowers himself in between your thighs. You instinctually spread your legs for him, inviting him in. He nudges against your entrance, taking his time. 

His forehead meets yours, your chests flush against each other’s, panting in sync. You’re both waiting with bated breath, his tip slipping inside, but stopping short before going any farther. 

His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. “Thought I’d never have you,” he confesses, pushing his tip a bit further in. “Would’ve given up anything for this. Would’ve waited forever.”

“You don’t have to,” you murmur.  “I’m right here. I’m yours.” 

“Mine?”

“All yours.”

And then he’s pushing deep inside you, down to the hilt, bottoming out. He swallows your moans with a kiss, biting your lip, drawing blood, and licking it away. “All fucking mine.” He stays buried inside you, unmoving. “Wanna stay inside you forever, sweetheart,” he growls, your heart bursting at the thought.

He pulls himself all the way out and all the way back in, stretching you out, working you open. You look down in between your bodies and watch as his cock disappears inside of you. “Feels s-so fucking good,” you stammer, already drunk off him. 

“Like watching me fuck into you?” Logan husks, picking up his pace, his hips snapping into yours. 

“Y-yes,” you whimper. His muscles flex as he ruts into you. He takes the hand that was on his cock and brings it in between your bodies, his fingertips quickly finding your clit and giving it a soft pinch. Your back arches off the mattress at the sensation. 

Logan hums at your reaction. “So sensitive,” he groans. “Taking me so good, sweetheart.” You can feel him losing control as he rams into you, his thrusts growing harder with each pump of his cock. He’s drawing firm, fast circles into your core. 

It’s all too much, him, his cock, his fingers. Your skin is on fire, your nipples pushing against his chest—the friction absolutely delicious. You’re already so close, just a few steps away from the ledge, and you’re ready to fall. 

“Know you’re close, darlin’,” Logan moans in between kisses. “Can feel you squeezing me.” 

You hum in response, but Logan refuses to let up. His pace is beyond brutal, pounding into you over and over again, his fingers working your clit in tandem. Your muscles contract around him, gripping tightly. 

“That’s it,” he murmurs. “So fucking tight, so fucking warm.” His praises are more than you can handle. “You gonna come on my cock, just like this?” 

“Yes, fuck, Logan!” You’re a babbling mess, his name the only thing on your mind, on your lips, hanging in the air like it’s a sacred prayer. Everything is him, and it always has been. In this moment and in every other, he is your end and your beginning. 

 “Let go for me, sweetheart. Know you can do it for me.” His deep voice is all you need to walk you through it. You’re breaking down, coming on his cock, the pleasure coursing through your veins, spreading like an untamable fire. 

He’s stroking your clit long after you’ve come, still snapping his hips into yours, still working up towards his own orgasm. His pace is getting sloppier, but he shows no signs of stopping. You can feel yourself growing overstimulated, his cock rubbing against your walls, his fingers circling your clit. “S’too much,” you whine, your nails digging into his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist. 

Logan presses himself closer to you, as close as he possibly can be. “You’ve got one more in you, sweetheart,” he coaxes, not letting up. “Know you can take it.”

You’re breathless, clinging onto him helplessly. You’re clamping down on him again, taking him deeper than you did before. He’s hitting that sweet spot with every thrust. “Lo,” you whimper. “I’m gonna—”

“I know, darlin’,” he grunts. You can feel him throbbing inside you. “Let it happen, I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere.” 

The tension is snapping again, breaking in half as he pulls another orgasm from you. You shudder as you come for a third time, overstimulated and beyond fucked out. You know he’s close behind, his hips slowing down, his forehead pressed against yours. He slips his hand away from your clit and around your back, pulling you closer to his chest. It’s so intimate, so perfect. 

“F-fuck,” he mumbles. “Where do you want me to—”

You hold him closer. “Stay,” you whisper. “Want you inside. Wanna feel you come.”

“Oh fuck,” he mutters, plunging deep inside you, his muscles tensing as he fills you up, your name on his lips. His thrusts slow, pumping in and out every now and then before finally stopping. 

You stay like this for a few minutes, his arm keeping you tight against his chest, his cock still buried inside you and your foreheads still pressed together. 

He brings a hand up to your cheek, his thumb brushing gently across your skin. You sigh, your eyes fluttering open and closed. 

He shakes his head. “I always wanted you,” he says, his voice low and raspy. “The whole time. It was only ever you.” 

His words could make you cry. It’s everything you’ve ever hoped to hear. You smile, his hand finding its way to the crook of your neck, his fingers lightly stroking your sensitive skin. “Can’t believe I didn’t see it,” you breathe, your voice laden with sleepiness. “I never knew. Thought you’d never want me.”

“I’ll always want you.” His cock finally slips out of you, leaving you feeling empty. His legs tangle with yours, his lips pressing a chaste kiss to your temple. “Would’ve waited forever for you, darlin’.”

“Forever?”

“Longer.”

[hyukaslvr]

strong enough | j. jungkook (1)

< series masterlist

paring: Jungkook x (f) reader

genre/tags: idol! Jungkook, idol! reader, idiot exes to lovers, slow burn ; k-drama feels (our beloved summer but not at the same time), angst, drama, fluff, smut

warnings: foul/explicit language, alcohol consumption, unhealthy coping mechanisms, feelings of helplessness, insecurities; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters, panic attacks, reader is harsh towards Jungkook

w.c: TBD

series summary: you and Jungkook have too many personal problems, during and after your relationship and it keeps getting brought up. you both had tried multiple times to ignore the fact you were both struggling mentally and physically due to your workplace, but you always run back to each other. maybe one day, one day you'll get back to each other, with all your problems handled, maybe not. all you want is for him to shine like he always does, all he wants is you.

a/n at very bottom!

Jungkook didn’t need to prove to you that he was able to live by himself on his own without you, he wanted to. so for the past 7 months, he’s been taking care of himself in every way he felt he needed you to help him with.

he didn’t do it just for you though, he did it for his life. he was dependent on you, for all of his feelings and to make sure he did the tasks he needed to do. he made sure to watch himself and watch how he acts, he made sure to try his best to take care of himself, sometimes he wanted to text you that it was easy, a piece of cake he would even say.

but since you were here anymore, for the last 6 months, he’d been on his own and doing things on his own. better than he expected too, he expected himself the next week after you tore him apart that he’d be right back at your doorsteps, begging you take him back.

but he didn’t, he stayed strong, and truly believed if you loved him, you would come back. eventually. but he couldn’t wait for you any longer. he couldn’t just sit around and be unmotivated hoping you would come back soon. so he stood his ground, worked out every morning and night, the endless punches against his punching bag echoed in his empty house, the house you used to fill the empty void for.

for now, he blocked you on everything, avoids the events your group is invited to, and makes sure he doesn’t do afterparties; that’s how he met you, mama 2018, an after party somewhere at someone’s house, not that he cared at the moment, he just wanted to get wasted. he met you, standing there, looking around and watching your members have the time of their lives when all you wanted to do was drink off your mood. jungkook saw right through you, feeling the same way he did as of currently, watching his older members laugh and make conversations with other idols.

now that he thinks about it, you both needed help, or didn’t need each other at the moment. he wanted it to work, knowing the consequences of two mentally unstable people in a relationship, he wanted to change you for the better. he didn’t want to change you completely, but the way you felt about life; how you would tell him that you didn’t see a future for yourself, that you just wanted to live but not actually live, but to disappear and not die. so he nods, agreeing in his head that everything happened between you two was for the better, staring wide at his shiny black shoes on the platform below them. he needs to stop thinking about things before he gets on stage, to perform in front of every idol possible to win an award tonight.

he sighs though, his thoughts were taking over his mind again about all the could ofs and would ofs, but he took deep breaths and turned to his older to make sure everything was fine, to get some sort of comfort through the others eyes.

hoseok, one of the older members of his group and the one he came to when you broke up with him, nods with a tight smile on his face, giving Jungkook that type of relief he needed; hoseok was there when you weren’t, he took care of him like the good person he is. Jungkook doesn’t blame you though, he would get away from him too. he doesn’t hate you either, he never will.

screams could be heard behind the sounds in his ears, the constant clicking to make sure he’s on beat. he needed to perform well he thought to himself. his habit of tapping his fingers against each other showing once again, a habit he told himself he would get rid of. again, looking at his hoseok, smiling at his older who looks born to be on the stage before letting the platform below his feet rise up to level with the stage.

the arena screams, the lights become dark as beams of blinding light shown down on the members, and it takes a minute for your eyes to register to realize its bangtan. your eyes searched, you didn’t want them to search but they did on their own. they landed right on him, Jungkook, the love of your life you would like to say.

sometimes you reach your phone to text him, to tell him this stupid idea you had for a song, or a photo of something that reminded you of him. you have to remind yourself everyday that you can’t check your messages, his good mornings won’t be there any longer. you have to keep remembering that you can’t just call him after practices to come pick you up because you hate the idea of being alone with your manager in the car. but then you realize, you ruined things.

you had this “perfect relationship”, you had everything you wanted, the person you wanted for so long before becoming an idol. but, you soon realized it was wrong, and you were both not well. especially you, not just him. the way you acting towards each other during the rough times when you should of been helping each other shows, you see other couples when they are sad and how they help each other, yet you couldn’t with him. you’ve never been super into comforting people, so seeing him the way he was, made you mad. it was an indescribable feeling that you can’t even explain, it felt like a competition against who feels the worst about their lives and who had it the hardest. so when one of you talked about your feelings, it would start an argument, one that led to sleeping in different rooms and one that led to not waking up to Jungkook’s cooking.

you hate thinking about it, but when you think of him, you don’t think of the good times. you think of how you made him cry, forgetting to tell him that you were the one who was hurting the worst, not that he was a mess or how you felt like you couldn’t take care of him . it just came out, heat of the moment you like to say, but you know you’re in the wrong, you know that you should of helped him when he physically couldn’t breathe without you comforting him in some sort of way.

“it’s like you can’t live without me,” you say, your feet killing you from a day event with your group, sitting down on the couch next to him while you rub the pain out of your feet, not realizing your words towards him.

“what does that mean?” he was already in tears, his voice shaking as his throat closing from crying and gasping, “i- i called you because i need help, ______, i don’t know-”

“Jungkook, you never let me in,” you sigh, staring back at the silent man, and that’s when you froze. you forgot your words, your mind going blank, the reason you were even there, “i mean, i want you to talk to me- i don’t even know what’s going on, how can i even help?” you kept spitting out worse comments, his poor heart couldn’t handle it, and you couldn’t handle it.

“i can’t explain it- i can’t breathe, i- i don’t know what’s going on-” you cut him off in a blink, pulling his head into your chest and tugging your fingers in his hair hoping for the best, just for his arms to wrap around you as his breathing becomes quicker, the sobs getting louder.

he didn’t know who else to call, knowing you both can’t be seen in public together, but he didn’t know how else to calm down.

“i’m here, Jungkook, i always will be, but i think we need to stop,”

he looks taller, slimmer, maybe more muscular? you think as you bite your lips hoping for it to bleed a little before you stop. you never liked watching him from a distance, it reminded you a bit of your childhood crushes which you hated the thought of those. you watched him sync with the other members smoothly and perfectly, his voice perfect as ever and hitting the notes perfectly to your ears. you smile, forgetting the memory you got, and watching him proudly.

he’s living without you, hopefully dealing with things with out you. you should be happy, right? you rub your sweaty palms on your blanket, the room felt like it was closing in on you, feeling as if him and you were the only people in the whole arena. you miss him, the way things used to be, the way you used to be, but things are different now. without even realizing the performance was over, you clap along with the others as the noise of palms smacking rings in your ears. you definitely miss him.

you should not be smiling right now, Jungkook thinks, now standing a little bit behind your group as you win the award you were nominated for. but you should, he should be happy that you guys got another win, with the song that gave you a headache everytime he mentioned how well it was going to be for your group. but you shouldn’t in his heart, not when he’s standing feet away from you, when you’re standing feet away from the one person you should be with and not distancing from.

Jungkook wonders, does your heart pound around him like his does? how it feels like it running around in circles like it’s winning a marathon, pounding practically out of his chest every time he breathes in, it hurts when he looks at you.

he wishes to know what you’re thinking, what you’re feeling when your leader lets you hold the award as she performs her speech for the crowd. he wants to know how the award feels in your hands as you grip it tightly, maybe you feel his presence after all when his eyes dart to your hands shaking.

he told himself no more after parties, no more of you and events with you possibly being there. but you looked so pretty, he couldn’t help it. the way your makeup looked like it was your skin, the glitter in the corner of your eyes making them pop out more. he could just leave with yoongi whenever, knowing he wouldn’t want to be there for long anyways, he would rather be alone after such a long event.

did he miss you too? you thought, rubbing your thumb against the plastic cup in your tight grib, sipping on the drink as your members talk to another and other idols. you glance at him every now and then, not that you cared he was there. definitely not the reason why you were here, not hoping he would be here also.

you sigh in thought, he doesn’t even look like he wants to be here, and you know he doesn’t by the way his eyebrows furrow at a obvious drunk idol passing by and saying hello to him. you sighed again, loudly supposably as yerin glares at you.

“just go talk to him already,”

“talk? talk to who? i don’t know who you’re talking about,” you play it off as you were confused, you couldn’t let her know. it made her glare more deadly and more hard to ignore, you wanted to rip your hair our right about then.

“Jungkook, he’s been looking at you all night too, you know?”

“he has?” you quickly question, realizing she tricked you into saying who it is, kinda. “i mean, what are you talking about-”

“i know, ______, just go. i know how badly you want to make it up with him.” she knows, you glup hard as she tilts her head aggressively towards his figure. it’s not that you didn’t want to make it up to him, it that’s you felt like you couldn’t. you were so trapped in your own mind to find the motivation to help his needs and necessities in your relationship.

Jungkook tried to not look at you a lot, making sure the cup in his hand and the loud laughter around him was distracting him enough to take his eyes away from you. when he felt like something was off, he glanced at you, but when he did, you were gone.

knowing Jungkook, you purposely left and went outside, sitting and watching the stars glisten in your naked eye, the music booming loudly behind you. you knew he would come finding you soon, knowing something was wrong if you were gone away from your group for awhile. Jungkook knows you from the back of his palm, you were together for almost 5 years.

when Jungkook did, he finds you sitting right on the cold to touch balcony, your head already turnt to look at him. you find it crazy, how good he looks just standing there out of breath searching for you, in the flickering porch light. he was just standing there with his eyes widened of you waiting for him, yet he was always still pretty no matter the emotions displayed on his face.

his eyes follow yours, searching them to find the reason to your disappearance, all while you start to stand up and turn your whole body towards him before speaking. you weren’t planning anything, what you were going to say to him and how you were going to even look him in the eyes. you just had to stay strong, looking deeply into his as you spoke what was replaying on your mind.

“do you miss me like i miss you?”

“you have no idea, _____,”

the wind blowing harshly against your already prickled skin didn’t bother you, the cold night tingling goosebumps on your arms even with Jungkook’s jacket over your shoulders, giving you the slightest bit of warmth. you had no clue how you ended up here, the car ride being a daze and being in the closest you’ve been to Jungkook in months had you biting your tongue to see if things were actually happening.

‘do you want to talk?’

‘i always want to talk to you, Jungkook,’

‘let’s get you out of here then, yeah?’

the park was silently decided between the two of you, sitting on an empty bench as you watched the clouds blissfully cover the moon every other second. the silence that took over the two of you sat comfortably, but so uncomfortable at the same time that it was starting to hurt your airways. there’s so much to be said but you both haven’t spoken up since you’ve gotten there.

you sigh, it was hard to do, to see him again and all was amazing, you always missed him and hearing his voice, hearing the way he said your name. you were so in love with him that you couldn’t pull yourself away. you felt trapped, in a good way, but not in the way you needed at the moment. you just wanted him, but you felt like everything in your life now was dependent on him. you needed him, he knew you, he knew how to help you.

it sucked that you felt like you only ever needed him in your life, only trying for him, only doing good performing for him, only ever speaking to him, only surrounding yourself with him, he was everywhere. any time you needed Jungkook, he was always there, in some shape or form. speaking or not, he wanted to help you and be there for you, not realizing it wasn’t helping your unhappiness and depression but making you feel worse about how he had to take care of you like a baby. you were trying so hard to get better only to realize that you weren’t doing it for yourself, you were doing it for Jungkook. Jungkook and Jungkook only.

“i really think we should talk, Jungkook-”

“you know, i really miss hearing you talk. i don’t know how you’re doing but i would personally like to know,” it shocked you, he never usually wanted to talk about personal things or pressured you to talk about how you’re doing on top of everything he already knew. Jungkook knew that there was a reason he didn’t know much because that’s just how you are. he loves you, and looking at you right now feels so right in his heart. he knew for awhile that you were the one for him, he wasn’t going to lose you that easily.

“Jungkook, we can’t be doin-”

“i get it,” he waves you off, obviously on the verge of tears because you couldn’t handle speaking to him at all. you’ve done this many times, tried to remove him from your life completely. but you always manage to come back, saying things along the lines of ‘we can’t be doing this,’ or ‘we shouldn’t do this, Jungkook,’. he will always scared that you’ll actually never come back so he takes these talks very seriously.

“no, Jungkook, you don’t,” you sigh once again, youre never able to put what you want to say into words, they come out wrong or rude or not true. there was so much you wanted to say. how could you say it in the easiest but nicest way possible without sobbing? you don’t dare to look at him just yet because you know you’ll fold immediately and run back to him. but you stood your ground, turned your head towards him and made complete contact while you spoke, “we can’t keep doing this, talking when we miss each other. i’ll never get better- you’ll never get better if we keep this loop going on. i love you, Jungkook,” you reached for his face, wiping the tears that started pouring as soon as you looked at him, “you’re forever my number one, i’ll do anything for you even it’s letting you go so you can focus on yourself and your career, you know i’m not any better than you,”

at this point he knew he looked pathetic, sobbing in to your palms are you talked about how much you both needed this when all he felt like was that leaving you is the worst thing to ever happen to him, he felt like he was suffocating with the truth. you loved him, he should be happy, but why are you leaving? you’re leaving him once again just for him to go through the same process all over again. he would drink, party every weekend, over sleep, have bad practices and messing up everything with his dancing. you tear him apart, every damn time.

he was more mad than upset, what did you leaving have anything with him if you loved him? you don’t love him, he thought, his eyes now furrowing at you and slowly tearing his face away from your hands rubbing his face.

“Kook, i’m sorry it has to be this-” but all he can do is just snort, raising to walk away, drive away before he starts to kiss you to make you shut up about getting better. you are never fair, you knew that by the look in your eyes as if your heart just got shattered when all you keep doing is tear his heart apart. he wanted to roll his eyes, you didn’t care about his feelings until he started crying and begging for you to even talk to him.

“come back to me when you’re ready, this could easily be talked about and fixed but you never let me in, claiming i never let you in but here i am, bawling my eyes out to you because you can’t stop leaving me,” he started walking back towards you, his feet wide causing his things to spread your legs apart.

you gasped as he leaned low, leveling his face in front of yours, you felt like you couldn’t breathe when he goes to speak, “you can’t just keep coming back to me when you feel like it, either fix your shit or decide if you want to stay with my messy self. we both know you’re just as fucking messy.”

ouch.

A/N: ouch is definitely the word for this chapter! reminder that this will have a happy ending i promise ( :c ) and this will definitely be a very slow slow burn. i had so much fun writing this and im so thankful for all the support you guys have been giving me, i really do think this series will do well and i really hope it will! reblogs are always more helpful than notes!

(COMMENT TO BE ON TAGLIST FOR NEXT CHAPTER OR WHOLE SERIES)

tags: @loumin908 @heartjiminie @yunholuv @cuntessaiii @parkinglot-nights @minsoa97kor

[pippin-katz]

So, you know how Edwin screams for Charles as he’s being dragged back to Hell? Because he’s scared?

I was thinking about why, and it’s obvious. No big brain moment here. Someone you care about, who you know cares about you in return, brings even the smallest amount of comfort in situations where you are scared. They make you feel safe, so when you’re in danger you want them near you.

Edwin screams for him while being dragged away to Hell, and calls to him when he’s strapped into Esther’s device before the torture starts.

Yeah, we already know that, but I noticed something yesterday.

When you’re thinking about the show in general, Charles is the one who does the physical rescuing and protecting. Edwin’s best way of doing that is to make sure nothing goes awry so Charles won’t have to rescue someone. He prevents the danger from happening the best he can, while Charles charges at the danger if he has to. Edwin actually calling to Charles for help more makes sense given how their methods of helping each other differ.

But yesterday, I was working on something, and I like to listen to the show in the background sometimes (gotta boost those numbers for my boys ✌🏻). I can typically finish the whole show in a day cause it’s not long, so I started it at the beginning.

While listening to them tussling with the WWI ghost, obviously Charles yells, “Edwin! Hurry the fuck up!”

It’s an instruction and emphasis of the urgency and the need for speed in this situation. Telling someone to hurry up is used in all sorts of contexts, serious and unserious. You might say it with frustration if you were trying meet a deadline with a partner, or angrily while playing some video game that has timers, or with concern if you were waiting for important updates on the conditions of an injured friend.

Charles is a combination of them because the situation has been getting out of hand and he can’t do anything about it. He needs Edwin to cast the spell to break the curse.

But it’s while Edwin is saying the spell that Charles yells just his name. It had always created a feeling in my chest, but I couldn’t pinpoint it.

Listening to it with headphones (multiple times) and while not being distracted by the visuals allowed my brain to focus on just the voices, and how I felt while listening to them. I’ve listened it so many times over the last month, and I finally managed to fully figure it out!

The roughness in his voice from yelling so loud. The desperation that seeps into it. The way he enunciates his name, stress on and the pitch raising on the second syllable, similar to the way you'd ask a question, when the stress is usually on the first syllable, and the pitch usually goes down.

This is maybe the only time in the entire series where Charles sounds scared (excluding flashbacks). I don’t mean the “worried about someone” type of scared; we get to hear that a couple times, mostly when Edwin is taken back to Hell.

But no, here he is scared for himself.

He’s gotten thrown around. He’s gotten choked. He’s gotten knocked onto the ground on his back, being pinned down by a malevolent ghost of a soldier, who also has a knife and is very much trying to stab him right now.

Charles has done everything he can. Now, he just needs to not get hurt until Edwin breaks the curse. But that’s easier said than done when your opponent has basically every advantage. He’s struggling! He has been struggling! And now he's about to be stabbed!

He yells to Edwin because he’s scared, and he knows Edwin will do everything in his power to protect him in a dangerous situation, just as Charles would for him. It’s cry for help instead of an instruction.

But it's also a reassuring gesture for himself. Edwin is there. He trusts Edwin. Edwin is his safety. He has been since he met him in the attic, and became the first person in a very long time, maybe ever, to show so much care, and protectiveness toward him, after everyone in his life had hurt him or had watched him be hurt and did nothing. Edwin won’t let anything happen to him. Edwin is going to save him. And he believes it despite his fear, and Edwin does!

His means of doing so look very different from Charles’, but it’s through breaking the curse that he’ll save Charles rather than trying to fight the ghost off of him. That won’t work. Edwin can’t physically do that, and it wouldn’t stop the ghost from continuing to attack them. So despite him being several feet away casting a spell instead of running to Charles, he is protecting and saving him. And Charles knows that too.

It creates a weird fuzzy feeling in my chest to know that Edwin is the person Charles thinks of when he's scared. It's obvious that Edwin sees Charles as safety, so it feels rarer to see the opposite on display. They are each other's safety, and that is fucking special.

(ko-fi)

[tojisrealwifey]

ok, first things first: that work of art you call your mind has made me feel things I didn't know I was capable of feeling. saying im invested in the crybaby series is an understatement. im counting the seconds for you to bless my lovesick mind with (hopefully) a cathartic chapter.

next, I wanna know the inspiration behind the series. did you hear a song or maybe watch a scene that spurred on this beautifully painful heartbreak?

lastly, I just wanna say, as a fellow writer, the angst is immaculate. I struggle in that department because I believe angst needs a hint of romance in order for it to work, but you, you, my dearest, you do it flawlessly.

I love you and everything you do. 🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾

FIRST. i love you.

i'm glad to know that my fic has made you feel such things. i was under the belief that that part of my talent had been lost, but i'm glad it's working again hehe.

i hope this story continues to sate your lovesick mind because by some miracle it has managed to do so for me 😘

to answer you question, there were a lot of different inspirations that led to them accumulating into this series.

for instance, there is a song that has a huge hand in this concept, which is glimpse of us.

it was a song that made me cry the moment the music started despite its lack of relatability to me.

there was something so sad about the fact that this person couldn't help but be reminded of his previous lover while he was with his current lover.

and to add to my angsty nightly 3 AM crying sessions, i would put myself in the place of the woman who's being compared to an ex (i'm delusional and i like to cry) because in my mind, being in her position is much more depressing.

when i started this series, it wasn't a series at all at first. it was going to be a one-shot of sorts with multiple characters, like those:

"JJK men when they first find out you're pregnant"

type fics.

the one i had in mind when i began was "things JJK men do that unknowingly hurt you" yeah, something along those lines. i got this idea when i thought of toji staring at another woman at a festival (which is how the story starts) but then i couldn't help but add more as i kept writing.

like adding that the woman looked like his ex-wife, and that he might be attached to her in a way still.

originally it was just like he was watching her cause she was another target for his job blah blah blah.

then my brain happened and wanted to make it sadder.

i'm actually so shocked to know you like the angst cause the ones i used to write before would like not be sad at all. i myself have trouble understanding if what i've written is a tearjerker or not, so i'm happy to know my work is improving, even just by a bit.

this truly made my entire month! muahh i love you so much!!

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Link couldn’t get up.

Well. He supposed he could. He wasn’t physically incapable of it. But he couldn’t.

He’d lost track of the hours. His body felt like it was made of stone. His brain was so full of fog. He wished desperately for the war, when sleep didn’t matter, when everything was going awry and calling for his attention, when he had to move.

Never mind the blood and bodies and burning. Never mind the adrenaline and terror, the horror at who he was fighting. He had a damn purpose, and life was never standing still long enough for… for…

For what? Why was getting out of bed so hard?

The daylight changed through the curtains as he stayed in bed, occasionally shifting to get comfortable, but never having the motivation to actually get up. His stomach felt so empty it hurt. He knew he had to pee. His head ached from sleeping too long. But he just…

He shifted again, burying his face in his pillow. Five more minutes… I’ll get it together then.

XXX

Zelda couldn’t sit still.

If she didn’t have a meeting with the Restoration Committee about rebuilding efforst throughout the kingdom, she had a run-in with one of the nobles. House Serenne in particular loved to harass her. But if it wasn’t the nobles, it was the sages. And she knew she had a ceremony with them this evening as well.

She felt completely overwhelmed. It hadn’t been—it hadn’t seemed this bad in the war, for whatever reason. Or, perhaps, it was a different sort of stress. Back then, she’d had to try and pick up the slack from her father, to prove herself as the rightful ruler, to figure out how to be a queen and a martial leader. Lady Impa had helped her with the latter aspect, at least. It had been terrifying, but somehow it hadn’t seemed as bad.

Link. Impa. That was why. She’d had both of them back then.

Nowadays, it just felt like she was on her own. Lady Impa was still there, but Zelda set her to multiple tasks, mainly in ensuring that the battered military was still capable in case something happened. She didn’t… well, she didn’t know the Gerudo chief, Hemisi. Just that she and Link had been close. And she… didn’t trust her.

They just needed to be ready.

But that left Zelda alone quite often. Because Link wasn’t there. He’d agreed to the marriage, he’d agreed to help her, yet he wasn’t there.

Zelda grew frustrated as she brushed off another noble trying to get her attention. She couldn’t have a moment’s peace these days. Things had gotten so chaotic since the wedding, and that had been a few months ago.

Maybe she should just tell Link to actually pull his weight and do his duty.

Biting her tongue, she sought him out. She wasn’t entirely sure where to find him, as he’d generally made himself scarce since the wedding. They’d only consummated the marriage recently, and that had been… well. She didn’t know how to feel about it. Apparently he didn’t, either.

Finally, Zelda found him in his room, the curtains drawn and the atmosphere generally dark and heavy. Why was he still in bed? It was nearly evening!

How could he just be laying about when they had a kingdom to heal? Was he sick?

“Link?” she called a little timidly. Why was she so timid? This was ridiculous.

She heard the covers rustle, saw the dull glow of his eyes as he glanced at her. His brow was a little furrowed, perhaps in confusion.

He didn’t look particularly ill, and somehow that just… didn’t sit well with her. “Link, I need your help. We have the ceremony with the sages tonight and you need to be there. Why have you just been laying around all day? We have work to do.”

Why hadn’t he been helping her all this time, anyway? She understood that he might need a little time to adjust, but he’d always helped her in the past during the war. She’d asked him to step up and be the Hero once more, and he’d agreed, yet here he was slacking on his duty!

Link was silent, but he slowly managed to get himself to sit up. He slid out of bed easily, eyes boring into her, and brushed by her without saying a word.

Zelda sighed heavily, fighting an oncoming headache. She wished she didn’t feel so alone. But if nobody else was going to do what needed to be done, she would ensure it happened.

XXX

Hemisi couldn’t stop spiraling.

She sat in an empty, half demolished building that used to be her home. She’d tried picking up the rubble only to get overwhelmed, and she’d been huddled in a corner of the room ever since.

It was stupid. It was so fucking stupid. Maybe there just wasn’t much to fix anyway. But she couldn’t stop the tightness in her chest, the anger that demanded to be heard, the desire to march to Hyrule and take the Triforce herself, the constant scenarios playing through her head on how she’d kill Zelda and burn Castle Town to the ground.

That wasn’t her. She wasn’t a murderer, damn it. She wasn’t him.

But goddesses, she wished she was.

Hemisi shot to her feet again, grabbing a shard of glass and burying it into her forearm. Damn it all, if she couldn’t stop the thoughts from ripping her mind apart, she’d give her body something else to think about it instead! She hissed as the pain shot through her, but the effect worked well enough.

Holding her arm as it bled, she stared outside at the destroyed capital, watched as the survivors of her once thriving culture tried to pick up the pieces and figure out how to move forward. She heard water trickling from some source or another, and she licked her chapped lips. Their water resource had been running low, overstressed from its usage in the war, and it was beginning to become worrisome.

How was she supposed to do this? She’d never been raised to rule – that had been her brother’s job. She was a warrior, first and foremost, forged in the fires of a war a monster had started, forced to kill her remaining family and left to suddenly be a chief.

Going to war with Hyrule would make more sense. She could fight for resources.

But she wouldn’t win. She knew she wouldn’t. Hyrule, despite how collapsed it was at this point, was still larger than the Gerudo, and it was victorious from their conflict. All she’d be doing is finishing the job for them.

Hemisi looked down, glaring at her arm, pulling the glass shard back out and cussing at the pain it brought. She’d clean it up later. She just wanted to get her mind off this shit.

What am I supposed to do?

She didn’t know. But she was a warrior, damn it. She would not give up this easily. She would fight for her people until she couldn’t fight anymore. One way or another, the Gerudo would live on.

[huramuna]

wine red, tears gold - chapter 5.

king aegon II x baratheon ofc

previous chapter | next

dropping this early cus its my b-day and this is how i celebrated: writing this. so sorry in advance! there is about a 5ish month timeskip in this chapter, so keep that in mind.

word count: 2.2k

please follow & turn on notifs for @huramuna-fics for my fic postings

content: smut, canon typical misogyny, canon typical violence, angst, fluff, arranged marriage, touch-staved aegon, aegon isn't a r*pist in this au but he is still a bad person and has his vices, ofc and aegon need to go to therapy together, justice for jaehaera, awkward sex, kind of a slow burn, infidelity, child loss, vomiting

blue - marina & the diamonds • gold - marina and the diamonds

warnings: rough sex w/ biting, hairpulling (non descript), miscarriage / loss of a child, vomiting, suicidal ideation

Warmth. She had been so snugly pressed to Aegon, her body riddled in hickies and bites, just reveling in his warmth. He smelled so nice, too— mayhaps it was just her cloudy, lust-dumb mind, but she felt so… at peace. As if this was where she was meant to be for once. Lyanna, for the first time, didn’t doubt that maybe Aegon did want her, in some proximity or fashion. 

But then it was cold. She was asleep when he left, but her body noticed the change right away. Curling into herself autonomously, she clutched a pillow in the empty space where her husband had left. 

She deluded herself into thinking that this was some sort of turning point, right? He hadn’t gone out to the Silk Street since their first encounter upon her wardrobe seat, had he? Then with their multiple, raucous sessions the night before— 

When she awoke, he was gone. Lyanna tried to convince herself that he rose early. A quick query to one of the keep’s servants quickly brought the truth to fruition; Aegon had left the Keep late at night, towards his places of habit. 

Oh. 

Oh. 

There was a sting of hurt in the pit of her belly— but surely, he could’ve been going to other places. There are many more night activities in King’s Landing than just whoring, right? 

She found her answer later in the day as she was returning to her solar from a luncheon with some courtiers. Aegon was passing her in the corridor— his eyes were red rimmed, hair a mess. He didn’t smell pleasant like the night before, but of cheap booze and even cheaper, strong scented perfumes. He didn’t even go to the effort to hide the prominent bite marks upon his neck. 

Lyanna hadn’t bitten him the night before. 

As they passed in the hall, their eyes connected. Lyanna had gone her entire day giving him the benefit of the doubt, as she imagined that people were too quick to write off Aegon, too quick to judge. The passion and fervor of him the previous night— surely it wasn’t faked? He… he seemed quite impassioned about it all, just as she— she didn’t misremember the look of warmth in his eyes, unless she was blinded at the time with sheer joy, her brain shutting out the things that might’ve seemed wrong.

The look of pure shame and self-loathing in Aegon’s eyes told her everything she needed to know. 

They didn’t say anything to each other and Lyanna nor Aegon stopped their walk, merely slowed down their gaits to observe. The entire moment felt surreal for the Queen as she took in every minute detail, every piece of evidence from his night out. 

Aegon, in turn, zeroed in on her eyes. The darkest of browns, almost black in their hue— it was so easy to get lost in them, like two huge pools of thick, voided ichor. But they weren’t so all encompassingly dark now, as there was a sheen of wetness upon them like a film. Tears rimmed her lash line, threatening to spill over. 

The times that Aegon has made her cry was certainly outweighing the times he’s made her laugh. 

How very typical of him. Just another thing to add to the list of fuck ups in his life, he thought. He couldn’t even bring himself to apologize. He just kept up his pace, even quickening it. 

Off to ruminate in his agony of his own creation. 

— 

Lyanna was stuck in her melancholies— feeling sickly all the while. And still, something within her, brought to life by their one night of passion, wanted Aegon’s attention. She craved it, no less, like a warrior craves the swing of a blade or a whore craves the tinkling of coin. 

So for the next few moons, she scratched the itch within her, bringing Aegon to her bed by any means necessary. More times than not, it was by igniting his blood with jealousy. Other times, it was by intercepting his nightly traipsing and having him come back to her chambers with a few well placed, and vulgar, words. 

What had started as gentle, soft moments between them spiraled into borderline violent grappling, hair pulling and biting from both sides. Aegon would call her horrible names, enunciating each syllable with a smack to her bottom. Lyanna would bite, scratch and mark every part of him, as a way to tell whatever whores he still entertained himself with to back off. She felt like an animal, pronouncing her territory to other predators. 

She knows it isnt healthy for either of them, bordering on self-destructive, but its best to be empty and fucked than empty and alone, right?

One eve, after they had a particularly tumultuous session. Lyanna’s dress was shredded on the ground, along with her small clothes. Her hair was a mess, strewn at angles unnatural from where Aegon had pulled at it by the fistfuls, skin marred. Aegon, on the other hand, was bleeding from his shoulder lightly where he had insisted that Lyanna bite him with all of the force she could muster. She was still hesitant to outright hurt him, even at his request— but she wished to please him.

Lyanna, nude as the day she was born, crawled into bed— she had pushed him off before he started bleeding onto the sheets— and settled under her heavy blanket. She watched as Aegon, nude in turn, muttered to himself and dabbed at his shoulder with a piece of her shredded clothing. Something inside of her felt hollow, looking upon the scene, the massacre they had made of themselves, of their marriage. It made her want to vomit. 

Feeling bile rise in her throat, she streaked from the covers to an empty chamberpot, throwing up the contents of her stomach. It hurt, her whole body convulsing as the very essence of her was ripped from her in an acidic, foul tasting mess. Tears fell down her cheeks from her exertions— and her emotional turmoil.

Aegon, all the while, was unphased. He peered at her momentarily before uncorking a new bottle of wine and proceeding to take a healthy swig from it. “Are you quite done?” he asked, breaking the silence. 

“… I… think so,” she murmured in return, wiping away the snot, tears and saliva from her face. Her body instantly ached, aided by Aegon’s heavy hand upon her bottom just twenty minutes before. “I need… water.” 

“No water. We only have wine— unless you’d like to have a maid come to tend to you? I’m sure she would appreciate the mess you’ve made here.” 

“The mess I’ve made?” she coughed, her eyes widened with disbelief. “You can’t be serious.”

“You’re the one who begged me to fuck you instead of going to the whorehouse, wasn’t it?” he bit back, his voice laced with a venom. 

“You make me feel like a whore— no, less than a whore. You would fuck a whore without being spurred.” Lyanna squabbled back, her stomach doing flips again. She sank to the floor against one of the walls, her back creaking down against it. Holding the chamberpot against her, she stared up at Aegon. “What… What is so wrong with me, Aegon? What is so wrong with me that I have to beg you to fuck me? Why… why?” she was murmuring frantically now, shaking her head. “Am I that ugly?”

The king turned to her, tugging on a silken robe that he had left there the night before. “You… just aren’t my type, Lyanna.” he whispered in return, looking down into the now half empty wine bottle. “No amount of jealousy, nor filthy things you say to me will change it. I don’t find you attractive, nor do you pull at my heartstrings in any particular way,” he paused, swirling the bottle. His brow creased, as if it pained him to continue to speak. “I’m merely fulfilling my duty.” 

Duty. Duty. Those words stung, sending a wave of pure pain and shame through Lyanna, as if a dozen bees were making their home within her bones. They vibrated against the marrow, calling more bile from her stomach into the chamberpot. Gods, it fucking hurt. She knew what they were doing wasn’t healthy, but it had started somewhere soft, didn’t it? That was all… duty to him. 

She felt increasingly faint, feeling too much all at once. Her breaths were thready, not coming out right and she couldn’t see through the mist of tears blinding her. Somehow, she was able to speak. “So… when you go to the Silk Street…” she sobbed, “What type of woman do you fuck? What is it that I am not?” her voice was tinged with a concoction of despair and poison, her now bloodshot eyes half-lidded. 

Aegon was silent for a while— Lyanna had almost thought that he left— before he let out a sigh, downing the last of the wine. He hissed as the alcohol burned his throat, as if feeling some semblance of the bile that had scalded his wife’s throat in turn. “What type of women?” he echoed, chuckling lowly. “Any woman that isn’t you, Lyanna. It doesn’t matter, they don’t have to beg me, unlike you,” he had a wicked smile on his face and he didn’t look like himself— no, he looked like a caricature, violet eyes wide and wild. “How would the court react if they knew? If they knew that their lovely rabbit queen had to beg her husband, a known whoremonger, for sex? It would have to be the most hilarious thing they’d ever heard, mayhaps I’ll tell it to my next woman at the brothel.” 

She felt numb. A prickling numbness spread through her extremities as she stared down into the bucket of her spew.

It was pathetic, wasn’t it?

She wasn’t exactly sure how long she’d been sitting there for, staring. It felt like she wasn’t really in her own body, as if her life had spiraled into some dark dream.

It must’ve been hours, as when she snapped from her fugue state— Aegon was gone. And she was sitting in a small pool of her own blood, leaking from between her legs. 

—

The look of Lyanna’s face when he had said those terrible things— Aegon would likely never forget. 

It was reminiscent of Helaena’s pale visage for weeks after Jahaerys was slain. Like a white, shrouded specter, flitting through the walls without any sense of purpose or drive. A ghost stuck inside their own body. 

He laid on the pile of pillows in the brothel, some whore latched to his cock, and two more on either side of him. He was nursing his second bottle of wine of the night, the ladies urging him to drink more and more so that he could pass out and they’d go through his pockets. 

Aegon’s addiction to the darker sides of life started as an outlet for pleasure. More wine made his stomach warm, made him jovial. More women than he could count had been on his cock, milking him for all he was worth. Gods, it felt good— to just be an epicenter of hedonism, an apex of debauchery and sin just for the pure thrill and act of it all. 

Things changed, of course. After the war. The things that gave him pleasure before now felt like too much— to a point where it pained him. But he relished the pain in a way to where it became punishment. 

Punishment for everything he’d done, everything he hadn’t done— when he drank, he saw their faces. 

Helaena, Aemond, Daeron, Jaehaerys, Maelor, Rhaenyra, Daemon, Jaecerys, Lucerys, Joffrey, Rhaenys, Criston— 

They stared at him blankly, as if expecting something from him, when he had nothing to give. He’s never had anything to give. He was stuck in a living hell— if not for Jaehaera and mayhaps his mother, he would’ve thrown himself from the ramparts like Helaena did. This was his punishment, for all their deaths. 

He couldn’t allow himself to have anything good. And Lyanna… she was good. Good and pure and he was fucking tainting her, pulling her down to his level of disgusting, animalistic debauchery. He had to push her away somehow before it was too late, before she became soulless and as empty as him.

His head was foggy as he pushed the girls off of him. “Get off of me, fuckin’ whores,” he slurred, getting up with wobbly legs, hand planted flat on the wall. He heard a commotion slither through the brothel, until the door flew open. 

‘Twas his grandsire and his loyal Kingsguard hound. Aegon narrowed his gaze. “The fuck do you want?” he spat, leaned against the wall with his softening cock in his hand— the whore had smeared her rouge lipstick all over it. 

“By the Seven,” Otto muttered. “Where is your shame, boy?” 

“It died with the rest of my family, grandsire. I suppose I have you to thank for it.” 

“Me? I can’t— no. There are more pressing matters than your filthy self-loathing.”

“And what could be so pressing? I am quite busy, you know— I’m due for another whore in just five minutes.” 

Otto’s brow furrowed, his face softened. The look on his grandsire’s face scared the hell out of him— he never looked so sorrowful, not since… 

“Jaehaera? Mother? Are they alright?” 

“Yes. They’re alright,” Otto paused. “Your wife. Lyanna. She’s… had a miscarriage. They aren’t sure if she will survive.” 

“My… wife?” 

“They say she was five moons along— the baby came out with wings and scales. ‘Twas a son,” Otto said, “Lyanna… said his name was Aeron. For Aemond and Daeron."

A son?

[vertigoed]

everything i wanted | gojo satoru

Summary: Your best friend had turned into a cold blooded killer overnight and your boyfriend had to be his executioner. You couldn’t cope with the horrors and insanity being a sorcerer entailed and fled to the other side of the world without a single goodbye.  A decade has passed and you find yourself being a teacher at Jujutsu high, along with your high school sweetheart that you abandoned when he needed you the most. 

Warning: mention of drugs and depression 

MASTERLIST

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You step out of the car with your hands tightly gripping your handbag, the familiar school gates stood tall before you and the memories instantly started flooding back. It felt like yesterday when you were having lunch with Gojo, Shoko and Geto underneath that maple tree. 

You were only 17 when you left Japan, unable to handle the tragedy of losing your boyfriend and your best friend in a span of a month. Your teenage self felt like the longer you stayed, the deeper the blade dug into your wounds so you packed your suitcase and left without looking back. 

You wanted a fresh start, somewhere you could be invisible and live a quiet life without the painful reminders of the past and the burden of having to protect others. 

It’s been a decade since the incident and you would think time has healed you, but it didn’t. Time has been nothing but cruel to you, flying by within a blink of an eye, and of course that was your fault. You did spend every waking moment trying to numb the pain with all sorts of substances.

With a deep breath, you begun walking with your head held high but silently praying to the Gods that you wouldn’t run into you know who. 

The only reason why you had returned to your home country was because Yaga had personally contacted you to ask you to come back to Japan and start teaching at Jujutsu Tech. At first you declined, after all, why would you go back to the place you were running away from? 

But then Yaga opened up the real reason why he needed you to come back so badly. There had been influx of unclassified special grade curses and curse users specifically attacking Jujutsu students. Three students had already died and the faculty staff were busy fighting off these attacks and in dire need of more help. 

He mentioned on the phone multiple times that “they can’t do this without you” so you were left with no choice but to say yes. 

Jujutsu Tech looked exactly the same as you had remembered, it was like you never left. 

You reminisced the old times as you walked on the same cobblestone path that you always chased Satoru on because he either stolen your MP3 player or he had said something to piss you off.

You smile to yourself, remembering how you thought you were such an adult back then because you were saving lives and all. But, in reality, you guys were all just kids being forced to play grown ups.

You walked deeper into the school grounds, enjoying the beautiful autumn scenery. The trees were adorned with hues of gold, red, and orange leaves, which flutter gently in the crisp breeze. 

“Y/N?”

Your heart sinks, mind began racing and palms sweating at the recognition of that voice. You slowly turned around, trying to keep your composure to look calm and collected. 

You had practiced for this moment for weeks now. You planned exactly what you were going to say but the moment he came into your vision, everything went out the window. 

“Hi?” your voice came out shaky and already your face started to heat up. 

Satoru looked the same but different, maybe a bit taller and his shoulders had gotten even broader than it already was. His blonde hair was still unruly as ever but instead of his signature glasses that he use to wear, his eyes were covered by a thick black bandana that also kept his long fringe away from his head. 

“I heard you were coming,” Satoru begun walking over to yours with a toothy grin, “You look great.” 

You noticed his voice had gotten deeper. You had always remembered Gojo as that cheeky 17 year old boy who was your first love. But, as he got closer, you started to realise time has aged him like fine wine. You blushed harder and looked away.  Just being in his presence has turned your brain to mush, making you wish you could sink into the ground and hide. 

“How have you been?” Satoru continued, eyeing you up and down. You felt self conscious all of a sudden, aware you weren’t as dolled up like you use to back in high school. 

“Ah, good, I guess,” you replied with a shrug, running your fingers through your hair to soothe your nerves, “I was living in London, haven’t really done any jujutsu in a while so interesting to see how that goes...” you trail off, peering up at him through your eyelashes to see his reaction. 

He still had a smile on his face like you were just telling him what you had for lunch. Never mind the fact that you two dated for a year and you had pretty much ghosted him after he had to execute his best friend. You abandoned Satoru when he needed you the most, so the fact that he was smiling brightly at you as if all was good, was secretly killing you inside. 

You wanted him to be angry, to go off at you and be petty, just so you can rid of the guilt that’s been deteriorating you. 

“Don’t worry you’ll be fine, you’re y/n the ice queen,” he joked in an attempt to lighten the mood.

You grimaced at the mention of your innate cursed technique, more specifically when you are most emotionally charged, your cursed technique subconsciously manipulated matter into acid snow. Snow that would freeze burn your enemies. The last time you had accidentally manifested this was when you saw Satoru be stabbed in the neck and you had thought he had died. You were in hysterics to put it lightly and as you sobbed on the ground, you didn’t even realise it was snowing during that hot humid day.

At that time you didn’t know how to control the technique and ended up freezing several innocent bystanders. Satoru noticed your discomfort and hastily changed the subject.

“You look tired, want me to get you a coffee?” 

You shook your head, looking down at your fingers as you nervously play with your rings. You took a deep breath, and looked up at him, “Satoru... I’m really fucking sorry-”

“It’s okay, it was 10 years ago,” he cut you off with a wave of his hands, he grabbed your shoulder and ushered you to start walking with him, “Besides, I get it, it must’ve been hard for you.” 

You broke down straight away at his words, a rush of emotions flooded through you. The weight of the guilt and shame that you carried for a decade broke apart.

You tried to talk through your sobs but no words could come out. As you cried into your hands, you feel Gojo’s long arms wrap around you and pull you into a warm, familiar embrace. This only made you cry harder. You had missed his touch, his voice, his smell. You missed Satoru so much that you wasted your 20s trying to forget him. 

“It’s okay,” he murmured, his hand cradled the back of your head and his hug tightened as you sobbed harder, the emotional pain was too much for you to handle. 

“I-I’m so, so, so sorry,” you choked out between your cries, “I was selfish, I didn’t know how to deal with anything. I should’ve been there for you when you needed me the most, I honestly deserve to be hit by you-”

“Hey don’t say that.. come on, look at me,” he pulled away and removed his blindfold, gently cupping your chin so you would raise your head. Your tear soaked eyes met his sky blue blue orbs. 

And it that moment, you could swear the time had stopped. You were mesmerised to be put it lightly. His hypnotic eyes glistened in their own light with bright hues that twinkled like stars. You quickly looked away, knowing you were staring like a fool. 

“I knew my eyes would stop you from crying,” he said playfully as he softly wiped your tears from your cheeks. 

You couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, he was still as cocky as he was in high school. You wiped your snotty nose with the back of your sweater, feeling slightly embarrassed.

“Come on, I’ll take you somewhere more private,” he casually draped his arm over your shoulder and you tried to ignore the pang of nostalgia that hit you, knowing all too well that you shouldn’t get use to this. 

You hated that despite the many years that had passed, being in his arm still felt like home. 

_________________________________________________

like for part 2 

[balloonboyismyson]

Sometimes

When bodyguard!Monty goes into his recharge pod

He can still hear them knocking on his metal frame

OKAY SO this inspired me to write a little so I hope you like it :o))

There was knocking at the door (900+ words) CW: Anxiety-Inducing, mentions of death, mental trauma

It was night once again, and the blue illumination of the single charging station was the only thing that kept the room from being engulfed by the ever-expanding void of darkness he hadn’t dared touch. It had been 6 months since his failure. When They hadn’t heard back from Y/N after the mission, They came to the restaurant themselves. 

He had just been sitting there, it wasn’t like he could do much else. Had he been a human he’d have wretched, sobbed, anything to get his despair out, but his manufacturers didn’t account for needing to. They never saw him as anything but a robot, unlike you. 

A part of him hated you, hated you for making him fall so madly in love with you. When They saw what happened, They dragged him to the van and brought him back to headquarters to clean him up. They hadn’t even had the decency to turn him off first.

It was the next day where things got worse. Once he finally regained control of himself, his mind was what went next. By the time he was out of the facility, the morning staff would all need to be replaced, and his only regret was making their ends faster than yours.

He knew exactly where your apartment was. He had originally cemented it in his mind to know how to get his assignment back to the Protected Zone as They called it. As he opened the door, the thick warm air encapsulated him. 

When you were first introduced, you had asked him if he preferred the air warmer or cooler. You had used your breath to ask him his thoughts. At first he thought it was a stupid question- humans die depending on the temperature, he was a robot, he couldn’t care less. But you saw the way he would linger in the bathroom when you were done with a shower or the kitchen while a big meal was made. 

His eyes moved to your bedroom. He entered almost in a panic, moving towards the bed you so lovingly made before last night’s shift. He picked up your pyjama top and stared at it a moment. The fabric scrunched in his hands as he made his way back into the main room and sat in the corner to the right of the door. He held that shirt for dear life.

They had come in the apartment multiple times, trying everything They could to get him out. They wanted to assign him to someone else, or maybe decommission him altogether. He wouldn’t mind the second option, but then who would remember you? That was a reason why you were chosen for this role, afterall. He would attack anyone who came near him, so eventually, They just took the loss and let him stay there. 

He always kept the lights on. After that night, he was terrified of the dark. He couldn’t see very well in that backroom, but he could smell, he could hear, and he could feel. He was petrified if the lights went out, he’d be thrown right back into that night. 

As the weeks progressed, the bulbs, one by one went out. Each time a bulb flickered, he’d move to a different spot in the room. Just as they forewarned, that bulb would die, just like you. 

Every couple of weeks a new bulb would go out. By the time the final bulb flickered, he found himself pressed against the only other thing keeping him alive- that damn recharge station. He was pissed it was there, mocking him. In him was a timer of sorts. When he got too low on power, he had to get up and charge, he had no choice. If it weren’t for its glow, he’d have probably destroyed it. 

His timer was up, and he needed to charge. He weakly stood up, his joints creaking loudly with every movement. The door opened for him, and he stepped in. The hum was too loud for his liking, and the tube was barely large enough to fit him. He could see through the window the darkness he so intensely despised. 

For some reason tonight, he almost felt… allured. He could just barely see the outline of the couch, and he felt himself looking for something. The once faint hum got louder as he inched towards the glass. He felt tense. The same intensity he got when there was an intruder. 

He heard knocking and scanned the room, trying to find anything amiss. Was there someone at the door? He needed to leave but he couldn’t mid-charge.

He put his hands on the door and searched desperately through the darkness, and he swore he saw movement. The hum was blaring and the knocking was hard and fast, every part of his body told him there was someone in the house.

He used his claws to try to pry the door open, but nothing happened. Were those footsteps? He hadn’t heard a crash but his body felt red hot. 

Was this what fear was? His eyes darted in the darkness, the hum becoming ear-piercing as he clawed at the door to get out. The knocking turned to pounding. His artificial breath steamed the once clear glass as his fans tried desperately to cool him down. 

He suddenly stopped and his eyes glazed as he peered forwards.

There wasn’t knocking at the door.

[terrence-silver]

Jack Blaylock with a detective!beloved 👀

---

I can envision Jack convinced that if his Detective (emphasis on the his) has been tailing him for as long as they have, it is entirely with a reason.

That their paths were meant to connect. Converge.

In the infinitely complicated pattern of life, with every murder, assassination, unresolved case or mutilated carcass Jack Blaylock leaves in his wake, his beloved, who has been on his track for months, maybe even years to no avail, keeping on eye out on his handiwork with every newly opened police file his killing sprees puts up for investigation, coming so close to catching him and connecting the dots, but never quite managing, following in his shadow dragged forward by the red thread of fate and not even realizing that same piece of string leads back to him every time. How could they, after all? They don't know him. Not the way he knows them, having observed them and the devoted work they've been doing. As a result, I almost imagine Jack killing with the intention of keeping his beloved hooked on these cases. On bringing the perpetrator to justice. Playing a one-sided game of cat and mouse. Case shut.

It's his profession, but it can't mean it cannot prove to serve multiple purposes.

He wants them to come forward. Research crime scenes he leaves behind. Take photographs. Pin up newspaper clippings of the incidents. Write meticulous reports. Swap notes back and forth with Forensics. Dedicate time and effort to uncovering the culprit. Work overtime. Be passionate. Be frustrated when there's no clear-cut answers. Get drawn into the gruesome mystery. Get drawn into him long before they ever even know it's him who's doing all of this. Long before they have a name or even a face to go off of or any sort of concrete evidence. He supposes it's meant to be. A karmic connection. That they know each other from somewhere and that's why they're drawn to each other like this. That's why Jack feels he has the compulsion to do this. That's why he's convinced beloved wants to bring him to justice as badly as they do even before he started remotely encouraging that trait in them.

Instant recognition. From a past life, it seems. Regardless of circumstances.

Every slice is for them from there on out. Every beheading. Backstabbing. Shot at point blank range, execution style. Jack does it with beloved in mind, envisioning their shock at his brutality, their abject sadness, even their professional facade suppressing their personal feelings so they wouldn't lose their mind when faced with the gore --- everything --- he ponders the diligent hours dedicated to precise analysis, lab results, their antiseptic latex covered hand lingering on every slash he made. Every wound. Every scar. It'll be as close to touching him personally as they can get. It's like being together, in ways. It's a love letter to them. He might tactically meet them at some bar downtown as a perfect stranger once they're tired from all the work he's been putting them through needing a weekend break and he might just introduce himself, offering to buy them a drink, no strings attached. Everyone needs to blow off some steam, right?

The evening will blur into a fog of pleasant, noneventful conversation.

Fueled by a little bit of alcohol (his treat, of course), slow swaying on the club's dancefloor and a lot of unwinding (after all, Jack knows what he's been dragging them through), they could just share a tiny kiss or a little bit of affection because Jack seems to say all the right things at all the right moments, getting under beloved's skin seamlessly, appearing like not much more than an entirely normal guy. He might even disappear before the night is over and leave beloved wondering where that guy they just met has gone off to without a goodbye or without leaving any discernable contacts behind now that the weekend is drawing to a close and they have to get back to the usual routine of their job tomorrow morning at the station, never even catching on to how close they got to the man who has possessed their every waking work hour of the week or the person who's been leaving a trail of blood behind engulfing the better portion of beloved's career.

Naturally, Jack will never stop.

At least not until he decides he and beloved should meet face to face.

Without pretenses this time.

Or at least until beloved figures everything out on their own.

After all --- if it's meant to be, it's meant to be.

[writingmaidenwarrior]

The Cards We Got Dealt Part 7 - Sin Eaters AU

This is for the OC Kiss Week Prompt "Almost"

Yeah, this took me forever and ages. Fuck work, fuck health, fuck everything, but here we are. Maybe, there will be an epilogue. I am toying with an idea.

Tagging @cljordan-imperium @jezifster @noblebs

Warnings: seriously NSFW, forget fade to black, this is "Let them fuck on screen at least once", also warning for slightly bondage?, rough sex

There is a kind of serenity in love which is almost paradise. Alain Badiou

Those one and a half day without Talindra felt like a month. The day of the duel like a year, but those last hours with the rite master and sorting all the official things out they needed to sort before leaving for home the next day felt like multiple eternities. At least it had been noted down by now that the clans will become one with the name still needs to be decided on, and it will be officially a dual leadership because neither he nor Talindra wanted to be the sole leader of the new clan.

The clans were celebrating the final night by the time they were back from the rite master and the first lights had been lit.

“Exhausted?” Talindra asked carefully.

“I just need this bath finally and I am good.”

“I have an idea.”

The wink didn’t get lost on him and to be honest, if her idea went the same path as his, he was all in for it. They sneaked behind the crowd to his cabin, giggling and snickering like they were way younger and this their first gathering.

He stopped at the veranda of the cabin and grabbed her hand to kiss it, placing another one on the inside of her lower arm before he pulled her close.

“There is a tub upstairs.”

“We need to warm the water for it.”

“And carry it from the well…”

“What do we do now?”

“Just get up, you coal brains,” Melleis opened the door laughing, “We thought you would need one and filled the tub. Gil is warming the water right now. Once it is done the cabin is all yours for the night.”

Giggling more Wynthan pulled Talindra inside. To his surprise Eshfyrr wasn’t around, also none of the warriors. Melleis caught his glance and rolled her eyes.

“They are all at the celebration. Gil and I just waited for you to come back. I brought some drinks and food upstairs for you. I am sure you will need it.”

Melleis walked past them, a moment later Talindra yelped and turned to Melleis with a surprised look. Before a brawl could break out, Wynthan hugged her tight and kissed her again.

“Be nice, that’s just her.”

“I wasn’t expecting it, that’s all.”

They moved to the huge bedroom in the back of the cabin. Gilmyrn came out of his room when they were a few steps away. The broad smile was already a warning he had something to say.

“I made it really hot in case the two of you need a moment,” he stated with a wink, “I also like to kidnap Talindra for a moment.”

“I am a busy woman,” she snickered.

“I will wait for you.”

Wynthan placed another kiss on her nose before he entered his bedroom. The tub steamed in the corner as a sign Gilmyrn overdid it seriously with heating the water. Using the moment, he was alone in the room, Wynthan went to check his preparations on the bed. The woven bands he got as spares in case something happened to those, he wore during the gathering, were tied with one end to the frame and hid well under the pillow. The round mattress was fluffy enough to be molded when needed and the food Melleis talked about stood on the table at the window. He went to see what she got them and snickered when he realized it was cold meat, fruits, and some sweet treats. The two jugs held honey wine and watered down juice. His family honestly made sure they wouldn’t need to leave the room until the morning.

A soft knock on the door made him jump. Talindra smiling face greeted him.

“Your family is one of a kind.”

Moving her hips in wide sways she came over to him, taking the hair pins out of her hair on her way and put them down on the table once she reached him. The fading light of the sundown framed her face along her open hair that flowed over her shoulders in a beautiful way. Wynthan gulped hard and reached out to take the beaded strings out of her horns with gentle touches.

“You have yet to meet Delythea, Niskranym and my mother. On the other side, you might be lucky with my mother. Delythea gave birth a few days ago and I am sure my mother will be busy swooning and spoiling her first grandchild.”

The beaded strings joined her hair pins under her soft chuckle.

“Sounds like she couldn’t wait to be a grandmother.”

“The day my sister told us my mother was overjoyed. I am surprised Delythea didn’t kill her,” Wynthan laughed and pulled her closer.

“And you?”

“What about me?”

Talindra smirked at him in some strange knowing way.

“How annoying were you?”

“I am afraid you need to ask my sister,” he admitted with an embarrassed laugh, “But don’t let us talk about this anymore. There are other plans for tonight.”

“Like your bath.”

With a tender touch she unwrapped the ribbons from his horns and placed them next to her beaded strings. Her fingertips ghosted over his neck and shoulders down to his hands before she took them and pulled him over to the tub.

“What is your plan?”

Wynthan watched her looked up to him from between her lashes with this smirk still in place.

“Making sure you get your well-deserved bath and are relaxed.”

His hand wandered through her soft wavy hair while he wondered why she didn’t wear that stupid plated neck jewelry today but was thankful for it on the other side. With a gentle tuck he pulled on the string that held her tunic up on the shoulders. Talindra’s fingers brushed over his stomach and mirrored the actions with the strings of his pants. Almost simultaneously, like a dance they trained for years, both stepped out of the thin shoes. Her tunic fell off her shoulders while she moved and down her upper arm.

“Maybe I make this a new fashion the next time,” she joked and untied the belt.

The sound of metal hitting the floor surprised Wynthan. Curious he looked down to see what it was and found a dagger between their feet.

“Damn, I forgot about that”, she laughed.

A second one appeared in her hand and got tossed to the table as she kicked the other one into the same direction.

“A woman prepared for everything,” Wynthan stated huskily and grabbed her by her waist for a kiss.

Her belt followed the dagger, followed by his pants only moments later. Wynthan took his time and let his hands wander over her sides down to the hem of her tunic before her swiftly pulled it over her head under her giggles.

“I expected another dagger.”

“I only had light weaponry today,” Talindra laughed into his kiss.

“Lucky me.”

“Yeah, lucky you.”

They nibbled playful on each other’s lips while their hands tried to undo each other’s underwear. Chuckles and smiles mixed in the kisses, once or twice they evaded because the touch tickled until both were finally naked. One more time Wynthan let his fingers weave through her soft hair, his nose buried in the crock of her neck.

“You should get into the tub before you fall asleep.”

“I just enjoy your company.”

With minor force Talindra turned him around and pressed into the small of his back to make him get into the tub.

His lips curled in a soft smile he followed her order. The hot water embraced him, luring a soft sigh from him. Wynthan closed his eyes as he stretched out in the tub. The splashing sounds that followed were enough to know Talindra entered it as well. A second later she laid against his chest, her hair rolled together and thrown over the rim behind them. It took some small adjustments until both were comfortable and let out a long-satisfied breath.

“That is really nice,” she hummed happy after a while.

“Have you ever been to the trading post?” Wynthan asked while nibbling on her neck.

“No, why are you asking?”

“There is a natural hot spring not far from it. I always suggested to expand it towards the hot spring and have a traveler’s house there. Maybe we just expand there and have the clans house there.”

Her hums were already an answer.

“Relaxing baths at a hot spring whenever you want… that’s the dream.”

Drippling water over her body Wynthan wondered if she had other ideas than just a relaxing bath but for now, he didn’t care. The time to find out would come soon.

Talindra overstretched her neck and placed a kiss on his chin with a smile.

“What are you thinking?”

“Nothing in general.”

Her arms linked behind his neck, Talindra curved her back in a perfect angle to expose her breasts. A smirk played around his lips. She clearly had a certain idea of relaxing bath. Again, he let water dripple over her body.

“You know, my people also seem to favor Sea Seekers as new clan name”, she snickered into his ear.

“We have to see what the rest back home have to say about this.”

Wynthan’s hand came to rest on her stomach under a thoughtful hum of hers. The humming almost sounded like purring to him and made him chuckle.

As good as possible he tried to reach the soap but failed. Talindra got up a little and got it for him with a playful gleam in her eyes.

“Eager to get out of the tub?”, she teased while playing with the soap in her hand, looking over her shoulder.

“I have the feeling you are eager to get out,” he shot back.

“Oh, you can also have fun inside the tub, and don’t forget you promised me something.”

Wynthan leaned forward to embrace her and nibbled on her neck.

“I plan to keep it. Even if I am afraid, it would ignite the heat in both of us,” he mumbled into her neck.

“If so?”

“You know the risk.”

As good as possible in the narrow tub Talindra turned around to him with an open face, her lips hiding a small smile behind them being pressed together.

“I do, and I also think chasing each other for the last seven years is enough time wasted. If I get pregnant, I will be more than happy.”

Her gaze dropped for a moment, and she wrinkled her nose before she looked up to him again.

“What is it?”

“Just a stupid little thing.”

“You know, you can tell me everything,” Wynthan pulled her closer.

The water moved over the rim, sending Talindra’s hair around them. Both snickered as they realized her plan to not get it wet failed miserably.

“There might have been nights in which I imagined how it would be to have a family with you,” she spoke fast and in such a low mumble it was almost impossible to understand.

The second he understood he took her chin and raised her head up for a kiss.

“That isn’t stupid, my light.”

“What happened to fire heart?”

“You got promoted,” he smiled and placed another kiss on her nose, followed by one on her forehead, “I will never ask you to have a child if you aren’t ready. I have seen so many times what toll a pregnancy takes on the body. As long as I have you, I am a happy man, no matter how many children we have or none at all.”

“Gods, how can you be so sweet and not dissolve in the water,” Talindra laughed but also obviously stifled away some tears.

“It is a talent.”

“I can see.”

“Tal?”

“Mhmm?”

“I also thought about it every time I tried to find the courage to visit your clan.”

“Really?”

“Yes, as real as I sit here.”

Talindra poked and squeezed his torso under giggles.

“What is that about?”

“Checking if you dissolve…”

“I am only dissolving into you.”

“Oh gods, stop it, that is too much…”, she groaned but got stopped with another kiss.

His hands wandered to her back and pulled her with him when he leaned back in the water again. The humming sounds she made was all he needed to hear to know she didn’t mind and let his hands wander to her ass and squeezed hit. A soft moan into his ear was her reaction, followed by gentle hip movements.

“Is this better, my light?”

“Way better. I have been burning for you since the duel.”

His fingernails scrapped over her skin up from the sensitive skin of her ass up to her neck. Her shivering was even visible. Her head tilted downwards into his shoulder it was easy to reach her horns with his mouth, so he placed kisses on the tips of the closest horn before gently sucking on it. A mix of yelp, moan and cry escaped her as she pressed herself deeper into him.

“Can you wait a little more?” he asked in a low voice.

A greedy whimper greeted him first, but she sighed.

“Why?”

“I want to treat you right.”

“The preparations…”

“Yes,” Wynthan chuckled.

Unwillingly she untangled herself from him. Her nipples stood erect and like little angry buds against her tawny skin. Maybe it was just him because he knew she was not pleased with needing to wait.

Wynthan searched for the soap in the water and finally managed to clean get soaped up. Shaking her head Talindra motion him to give it to her. The next moment she made a show of cleaning herself, her eyes on him all the time. He couldn’t deny the way Talindra slowly rubbed the soap foam over her breast had the intended reaction.

He got out first and dried himself up fast before he helped Talindra out of the tub. Her long hair dropped water like a leaky bucket and while she was busy wringing it out, Wynthan rummaged around to find some ribbon to tie it together.

Proud he held it up to her.

“Let me help you with it.”

“It is your fault anyway,” she teased already braiding it in one single braid, holding the hair over the water because it wrung more water out of it.

Once she reached the end, he bound the ribbon around it but left enough of it to give her the chance to tie it up. She acknowledged it with a smile and used it to roll the end up over the braid halfway, to make the wet part lay over the dry part.

The moment she was done, she jumped at Wynthan with a broad smile.

“I dare you to keep your promise.”

“Whatever my light wishes.”

Both smiled like crazy, as he laid her down on the bed, reaching for the ribbons under the pillow. Surprised she looked up for what he was grabbing and got big eyes. Her breath got faster.

“May I?”, Wynthan asked.

“Yes, please,” she breathed needy.

He tied the knots in a way he could undo it fast and used the way she laid in front of him to let his hands wander over her body. Her hums, moans and deep breaths were stories of how much she loved what he did when his thumb teased her nipples while he kissed her stomach. Or when he suckled on her nipples while caressing a horn, all to get her more worked up.

“Nat…,” she whined.

“Yes?”

“Fuck me.”

He chuckled against her ribcage. One hand moved lower and slipped deep into her wet folds. Talindra buckled immediately with a loud moan. She wanted it rough, so he didn’t bother with one finger first but already used three to please her, while his thumb rested on her sensitive clit. Aware how it must be too much for her he kept on sucking on her nipple and caressed the horn while he fucked her with his hand even if there were displeased noises between her moans.

Wynthan knew she wanted to be fucked for real, and it was getting more difficult to not turn her over and ravage her like an animal, even if it was exactly what she wanted. Talindra buckled under him and cried her orgasm out into the world. Panting and huffing she snickered, only to yell surprised when Wynthan gave in his own needs and turned her on her stomach, her hands still bond to the bed.

Her ass propped up with the help of molding the mattress and her upper body bent down, he slowly entered her. Talindra bent more into making a hollow back and sighed pleased. After a few thrusts, Wynthan was sure the position would work and bent slightly over her, pressed one hand between her shoulder blades to keep her down and moved with fast, shallow thrusts.

The hand on her back moved up to her upper arm as Wynthan bent more over her, the need to feel more of her growing with each moment. Talindra turned her head to him for a kiss that got disturbed with every thrust. His need to be closer to her grew even more as much as her moans became needier and she pressed her butt against him, meeting him with every thrust.

An aroused growl left his chest as he realized this wasn’t what he needed. He pulled away from her, getting a whimper in return followed by a threatening growl. Wynthan turned her around again on her back with her still propped up that way and her hands bound. Talindra breathed in sharp with huge eyes, only for her eyes to roll back in anticipation.

“Yes…,” she whispered with a serene smile.

Wynthan didn’t know what she agreed to but whatever it was she seemed to be more aware what was happening. He only care about her being fine with all of this and kissed her before he entered her again, pulling her legs over his arms and fold her almost over. Now he laid over her, able to fuck her as deep as possible, as fast as she liked and feel her, kiss her and nimble on her ear all at the same time.

Time lost its meaning, even when Wynthan felt their horns tangle together, when a part of him realized something was different because after his first orgasm it felt like his dick got even bigger and he felt as he could go on for hours.

Talindra underneath him was a moaning, yelling, whining mess who occasionally only told him to go on and to claw into his shoulders like her life depended on it.

The sensation of an orgasm announced itself another time, but it felt stronger and in some way like fire through his veins. Without thinking about it Wynthan threw his head back when he came again. A part of his conscious heard the crack and noticed the pain from his horns, but the majority of his body was busy with feeling on fire from the last orgasm.

Panting heavily, he collapsed onto Talindra. Clumsy he let go of her legs and only noticed now how their tangled horns laid still tangled together behind him. Her tired out of breath laughter helped him find back into reality.

“What…?” he breathed exhausted.

She stroked his cheek still laughing.

“Someone was a little bit overenthusiastic.”

“Yeah…”

Awkward, he tried to fell next to her, but Talindra followed his movement and rolled on top of him with a broad smile, catching his head in the ribbons. Opening the knots with rolling eyes, he raised his head to softly push his nose against hers. They felt the mattress move into its natural position underneath them, bringing a chuckle out of Wynthan as well.

With the freedom of being able to use her arms again, Talindra curled up on him, some loose hair strands framing her face. A content mumble escaped her.

“I don’t want tomorrow to come.”

“I know, my light. Soon we don’t need to part ever again.”

“Promise me, we will see each other again as fast as possible.”

“I promise.”

His fingers ghosted over her spine, drawing imaginary patterns on her skin.

The morning came too fast. Wynthan wished he could just stay in bed with Talindra and forget about their track home and all the responsibilities but the noises and voices outside made it hard to ignore. Her soft chuckle chimed in his ear.

“We should take a look.”

“I like to stay with you.”

“I know.”

Talindra turned around in his arms and placed a kiss on his lips. Her hand went to the raw place his horn should be and gently rubbed over it. He hissed in pain.

“That bad?”

“Yeah. Worse than walking on seashells.”

Her hand went to the nub on her head and touched it. He felt he flinch, but it seemed it wasn’t as painful for her as it was for him.

“No, walking in seashells hurts more,” she giggled.

Involuntarily he chuckled as well.

The voices outside got louder and for a moment he thought he could hear their names.

“I am afraid we really need to get up.”

With a kiss of hers placed on his shoulder, Talindra got up first. Most of her braid came undone during the night, so she undid what was left of it.

“Don’t smirk that broadly. I will get you for this.”

A playful gleam in her eyes she looked over her shoulder to him.

“I am not smirking.”

“What is that on your face than?”

“I am content.”

“Of course.”

Laughing he got up and went to pick some proper clothes for the day. Unfortunately, being half naked wasn’t an opting for the long way home. His gaze went to the ribbons that were still tied to the bed and undid them. A short glance to Talindra told him she just finished undoing her hair, so he went to hug her.

“Got you.”

“We won’t get finished like this,” she scolded softly but looked down to the woven ribbons on his hands in front of her, “What is this?”

“The spare ribbons my sister made. I want you to have them.”

“You sure?”

“I am. I won’t need them until the next gathering, right?,” he smiled at her encouraging.

Talindra’s fingertips wandered over the ribbon with a frown.

“I wonder if there is a possibility to weave pearls in those.”

“You will need ask Delythea about this. She made them. If someone knows, it’s her.”

Smiling she took the ribbons and used one to bind her hair together.

Once they were dressed, the noises got louder the moment they stepped into the hallway. In the combined kitchen and living room area were Eshfyrr and Kylantha with their backs to them, obviously busy with something else. The sole sight of them working together was a strange thing in itself.

“And what are you doing here?” Wynthan asked, trying to put up a stern face.

Both jumped around like they were caught doing something illegal and held some beads and ribbons in their hands. Glances got exchanged between them. Talindra broke out laughing first and went to see what Kylantha held in hers.

“You brought pearls over?”

“And some of the ribbons and your brush because I was sure you would look like a freshly hedged bird.”

“While you were busy we sat together last night and thought it would be a nice start to show to mix of both clans though this,” Eshfyrr added.

“Also, we thought we should leave together and head to the trading post at first, so you can see what needs to be done. It would be only a detour of a few days for each of us. We already sent ravens to inform he clans back home.”

Wynthan and Talindra looked at each other surprised.

“Why are we needed?” she snickered.

“I have no idea, they manage well without us.”

“Maybe we should reorganize the whole clan.”

He slowly nodded getting what she was thinking.

“Yeah, that would be something to ponder.”

“You know we are still here?” Kylantha asked loud.

The smile on her face betrayed her serious tone.

“Let’s get ready before anyone commits a murder,” Wynthan joked and nodded to Eshfyrr to grab a chair, “So you managed to talk Mel out of doing it?”

“Gil made sure she is too drunk for this,” Eshfyrr laughed with his head down, busy sorting the beads.

“Do I want to know why?” Talindra interjected curious.

“Mel is not the nicest person while braiding. We all dread the day she has children because it will mean a lot of wailing coming from their home,” Wynthan explained.

“Or we manage to teach her to be more careful until then,” Kylantha suggested.

“No one could so far…” Eshfyrr sighed.

He probably recounted the many times the poor children of the clan were her training objects because everyone was eager to teach her to be gentler.

“And where is Meri?”

“You will love this.”

Kylantha’s laughter shook her whole body.

“Did she break something?”

“Only her hand.”

Eshfyrr snickered as well, what gave Wynthan the idea his cousin witnessed it.

“What happened?” Wynthan asked for Talindra.

 “She got into a fight with one of the female clan leaders over a piece of meat, stumbled when she wanted to swing at her and planted her fist into a stone.”

For a second silence filled the room before everyone burst out laughing.

“For her own sake, we should keep her away from the next gathering,” Talindra laughed tears.

Someone came in and brought some breakfast for them what let Talindra’s stomach growl loudly.

While Eshfyrr and Kylantha worked on doing the few braids and adding the beads, pearls and ribbons, Wynthan and Talindra did their best to get some food and sit as still as possible.

“You know, I should have bet with Deiwryll about your horn situation this morning. I would have won,” Kylantha stated nonchalant out of the sudden.

“Hey!”

Talindra turned in her chair and glared at her friend. Wynthan looked up to Eshfyrr with an unspoken question and the suppressed laughter told him that his clan did bet on it. Rolling his eyes he accepted his fate.

“Nat, say something!” Talindra requested and pointed at Kylantha.

“I have to apologize but it seems a lot of people did.”

Her glare went to Eshfyrr.

“I didn’t, I swear by the gods! But once there was enough honeyed wine a lot of people couldn’t help themselves. No one would have guessed you are so stubborn you both will lose it.”

“I wouldn’t call it stubborn,” Wynthan threw in with a naughty smirk.

Slowly he could see how her hair was going to be styled and already loved it. Few small braids from her sides with beads and pearls would come together in the back and join the huge braid on her upper head that was styled with ribbons. It wouldn’t surprise him if it all would be joined to one big braid in the back and fastened with more ribbons.

From what he felt how Eshfyrr worked, he was getting a similar hairstyle but without the big braid on top, and the hair simply pulled together in the back without braiding. Both were mixes of typical style of both clans. Once he was finished, Wynthan needed to ask the others how much time they spend on coming up with this.

It felt like an eternity since they were done and finally could step outside. The whole clan stood outside, giving them an impression how big they would be now. Happy yells and whistles sounded off the moment the crowd noticed them.

“A hail to our clan leaders!” someone yelled.

“Gods bless Talindra and Wynthan,” dozens of voices roared off.

Wynthan’s hand searched for Talindra’s as he looked at her.

“We will get through it, together.”

“Together, till the day of ashes,” she beamed back at him.

“Kiss!”

Multiple yells sounded from the crowd making them laugh. Under the eyes of their new created clan Wynthan and Talindra kissed for the first time officially the clan leaders of a new clan.

[enchantinglyjade]

𝕊𝕙𝕒𝕕𝕠𝕨𝕖𝕕 𝔽𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕤

Chapter One

Ravenclaw!OC x Slytherin Boys

Masterlist | Next Warnings: Swearing? Note: So, a little backstory, this series is based off of my DR, but I failed to shift, so I thought I'd just turn it into a fic lol. Also, I wrote Hogwarts as if it's a highschool/university as opposed to a middle school/high school. So, 1st year is age 16, 2nd is 17, 6th is 21, etc. This combines multiple timelines and makes no sense canonically so don't fact check me 🤣

-

The constant rumble of the tracks shakes a train car, bouncing a young woman in her seat on a particularly cold September morning. Her head taps against the glass window, as she tries her best to ignore it and the constant chatter around her. She adjusts her bag, so her temple knocks into that instead, leaning into it with a tired grumble as she slips back into a just barely more comfortable sleep.

“How could you possibly be sleeping now? Have you not been thinking about this moment for years?”

With a groan, she leans up to face her friend, Jewel, who looks at her with a confused look. “Maybe because we’ve been up for the past 3 days talking about it.”

Celia buds in. “Let her sleep. She’ll need it.” She says with a particularly knowing giggle,

“Especially if the first person you’re introducing her to is him.” Penelope giggles as well, nudging Jewel on the arm, who guiltily smiles in return.

Jewel had told the young girl lots about her Hogwarts friends, but she had yet to meet most of them. She was introduced to Penelope and Celia only a few days back, when she first arrived in London. Jewel’s father was kind enough to let her stay at their manor for the few days leading up to their 7th year.

While the trio pester and tease each other, the girl sneaks back into her dream world, slipping as peacefully back into sleep as the train tracks will allow her to.

“We’re here, Twila! Get up!”

Damn. That was quick. She thinks to herself.

Her bag drops from being against the window to sitting in her lap as Penelope yanks her arm. Twila quickly slings the bag over her shoulder just before it’s out of her grasp as she rises out of her seat. “Penelope, hold on.” She says with a chuckle. Jewel’s long, light brown hair bounces not too far in front of them, as she leads the four of them off the car. Their suitcases are piled up on the sidewalk just outside the locomotive, steam still hissing and rolling above the train cars, filling the air with its industrial scent.

“Welcome, students. Everyone follow this way please.”

The four of them, amongst the many other students, walk through a dark, luscious green forest until they finally see ‘it’ emerge from the trees in all of its glory.

Twila stands in amazement. The school is ginormous, just how she imagined it to be. It’s already so magical and she hadn’t seen anything but the bricks that hold everything together. Ilvermorny had been big, but this is on a completely different scale. She didn’t even know how much time passed or what direction she was walking, for she was too busy admiring the view.

She watches the first years get sorted into their houses. Unfortunately, Twila had met some of her professors before the start of school and was sorted in private. However, seeing how all eyes were on the first years now as the hat speaks to them, she’s somewhat relieved for that. Afterwards, the students gather in the Great Hall to mingle after the start of term banquet, which was just as grand as the rest of the school. 

“Come, Twila. I want to introduce you to someone!” Jewel says right before her shriek erupts through the room, causing a certain blond boy to turn around. “Ah! I’ve missed you, Malfoy!”

“Jewel, it’s only been– what? 3 months??”

He’s not what Twila has expected him to look like. Not in a bad way, of course, just different. Though, she supposes the only thing Jewel ever talked about was his attitude, hair, and money.

He makes sudden eye contact with her, seeing how she hovers just a few feet behind his childhood friend. “Whose that?” He says quietly, nudging Jewel for her attention.

“Oh!” She pulls away from the hug to gesture towards her. “This is Twila. She’s my best friend from Ilvermorny I told you about.”

He nods very, very slowly as he almost looks down upon the new girl. “Oh… I see.” Nonetheless, he extends his hand to hers. “Draco. Nice to meet you.”He takes a glance back at Jewel, clearing his throat before looking back at the other girl. “What do you think of Hogwarts so far?”

“It’s good… so far anyways.” Twila chuckles nervously, trying to come off as friendly, but she notices how the boy seems unimpressed and unwelcoming.

“I suppose you’ve already been sorted? I’m Slytherin, if you were wondering.” A cocky, proud smirk grows on his lips.

There’s the attitude Jewel had warned her about. “Uh, yeah. Ravenclaw.” She smiles, but it quickly drops when he begins to laugh.

“It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Twila, really, but I must be getting back.” He says, still having a chuckle in his voice as he walks back to his large group of friends.

Jewel rolls her eyes, turning back to Twila to notice her confused look. “That’s just him. You’ll get used to it." She chuckles. “Come. I’ll show you up to Ravenclaw tower– but don’t expect me to walk with you up there for the rest of the year. I can’t get caught on that side of the school. Too many stairs as well. Ugh.” Twila rolls her eyes with a smile, following beside her friend.

As they walk through the endless corridors, including up a staircase that magically disappears and reappears, they pass by an oddly empty side of the school. Everyone must still be downstairs visiting one another. Twila supposes it would be just like her to be the first student to rush back to her dorm. Then, the two hear voices echo down the hall.

“And what if I refuse? It is just like Dumbledore to throw helpless children around to whomever is willing to clean up his responsibilities.” 

“Severus, please. They had all but disposed of her because they were simply too lazy to dissect this problem themselves.”

Jewel pulls Twila aside, hiding the two of them around a corner and she peeks to watch the professors argue over something. “That’s Professor Snape, Head of my house. Quite cruel at times. It’ll be in your best interest to avoid him as much as possible.”

Twila scoffs internally at this. If only she could.

They continue to listen, watching as best as they can.

“So, I suppose this is my burden now? No consultation or anything? Just leave the child at my doorstep?” Snape exclaims in annoyance.

Ms. McGonagall, who Twila had written to many times over the summer, softly drops her arms in frustration. “Please, just have a moment with her. And if you still wish to refuse, then Dumbledore has promised to remove her from your hands.”

He sighs, crossing his arms as he puts up a cold front. “Alright. You have me. For now.” He states sternly. “But be sure to set your expectations low. I can only imagine this child will get on my last nerve and quickly.”

Ms. McGonagall chuckles. “I trust she will be safe in your hands, Severus. I’m sure it will mean everything to her. Thank you again for helping.” She turns to walk away, before remembering something. “Oh, and be sure to give her this in class tomorrow.” She reaches into her green cloak pocket, pulling out an almond colored envelope before slipping it to him.

Twila eyes the envelope as Snape does the same. She wonders what it says, though she knows she’ll be finding out soon enough.

Jewel lets out a thoughtful hum, not focusing on their words as much as she’s concerned whether they’re leaving yet or not. Once out of sight, she walks out from their ‘hiding spot’ and they continue down the next stairwell. “Whatever that was about.” She scoffs. “Anyways, here’s your common room, the riddle’s for you and your brainy selves to figure out.” Twila smiles, glancing at the bird on the door, its bronze wings shielding its body. “Alright, well, best get settled in then. Class begins bright and early tomorrow. Oh, and don’t roam too far around the castle alone, never know who you’ll run into.” She flashes Twila a smile before heading back down the stairs.

With a sigh, Twila enters her common room, making her way towards her dorm. The riddle wasn’t too difficult for her to figure out. Her room is small, but cozy with lots of antique woods, rusty coppers, and wonder filled blues. Not to mention, the view the tower held over the rest of the castle. It’s beautiful. She couldn’t wait to start making it hers.

She eyes her luggage that magically made its way to her room while she was busy eating earlier. She lazily plops onto her bed with a huff. She had a long day already and suspected an even longer one tomorrow. She should get some rest, unpacking can wait for another day.

She lays her head on the nicely fluffed pillow, tracing the golden astrological symbols etched into the ceiling. I’m a long way from home. She thinks to herself. But she is here for a purpose.

༺ ☆ ༻

The next day, Twila wakes up with a light heart, an airy feeling in her chest that flutters both in excitement and fear as she lays in her bed, unaware of the busy day before her.

She removes the covers from her body and walks to her still unpacked suitcase, hoping to pull out two matching items. She chuckles to herself at some of the things she finds. She had quite a reputation for herself at Ilvermorny for being the weird girl and her clothes did not help with this stereotype. She told herself that she’d start fresh here and be her most unapologetically authentic self. That she wouldn’t cower away just because she was different. After all, she had crafted many of these items herself and she worked too hard to be so ashamed of what her mind craved to bring to life.

But it seems it was an easier plan to agree to when she was still in the comfort of her home. Now, having traveled across the ocean, she’s beginning to have second thoughts. Maybe I should have brought something to blend in with for the first day, just to help me feel comfortable while I adjust. But it’s too late now. Go big or go home. She thinks.

Ugh, I should really mind American slang while I’m here.

She throws on her most normal set of clothes, all of which she had specially made to match the Ravenclaw’s aesthetic, then heads out into the main common room area.

The room is more lively than she had imagined it being, considering the house’s stereotypes Jewel had told her about, though she thinks it could just be first day jitters. 

She awkwardly smiles as she passes students by, some taller, some shorter, and many younger than her. She squeezes by bodies of people, her book bag beginning to slip off her shoulder, causing her robes to follow suit. She huffs, adjusting it back into place as she finally reaches the door. She nervously follows the rest of the students through the castle, assuming they’d bring her to where she needs to go, and luckily they do. Once in the cafeteria, her anxiety only peaks. She had nearly forgotten her least favorite part about school.

Voices and laughter bounce off the castle walls. The students she followed to the Great Hall now scatter in different directions, some sitting down, some chatting with friends, and some speaking with the professors. She stands in the center of the doorway as students from each of the houses surround her, taking up the giant room. She can feel nervousness seeping into her at the sight. What if everyone's eyes suddenly land on her, the whole school laughing at her while she stands like an idiot in the center of the room? She’d need to figure herself out quickly before others take notice. 

Okay. Yellow table, that’s for Hufflepuff. Or is it Gryffindor…? Doesn’t Gryffindor have yellow in it? But then which one is-

“Merlin, Twila. Come on.” Jewel suddenly pops into view, chuckling at Twila as she guides her down the center of the room. Twila follows behind, her brain just barely catching up to her friend with all the commotion around them. 

“Gryffindor.” She points, continuing to strut past students. “Hufflepuff. Slytherin, the most amazing people you’ll ever meet. And you… are here!” She spins around, hands on her hips, as she proudly presents Twila a spot at the blue table. “I’ll see you in the Library later, alright?” She winks, quickly turning to walk back to her own table.

Right. “Where is that?”

Jewel smiles. “Trust me. It will find you.” She calls over her shoulder before finding her way back to the green table, sitting herself next to a familiar blond boy. Jewel gives Twila a thumbs up, which Draco sees and follows his friends gaze to glance at the new girl as well.

The second Twila sees him look over, she immediately looks elsewhere, not wanting to deal with him again, at least not so early in the morning.

The rest of the blue cladded students pile around her, talking amongst themselves. Twila listens in on their conversations, trying to get a grasp on the things they talk about, how they speak, things that happen around the school, anything to ground herself with, but she resorts to slowly picking at the food in front of her, which even that is so different from what she is used to. Her current state doesn’t help with her insecure feelings either, but hopefully Ms. McGonagall is right and everything will finally get resolved. Though Twila has her doubts. Many, painful doubts.

Breakfast ends after many long minutes and the students mumble and grumble their way out the door and to their first classes of the school year. 

Twila takes a deep breath. Just two more meals to get through and I’ll be back in my dorm. Alright, Herbology. And what does Jewel mean the Library will find me? You know, this whole magic thing is starting to get on my nerves. Constant nonsense. But, I guess that is the point…

With a frustrated groan, Twila opens her bag and pulls out the map McGonagall had given her. She really doesn’t want to have to use it since it seems to scream ‘new kid’, but she has no choice. She panics as more and more students leave the Great Hall, as she desperately searches the large map for one single, simple word. Class would be starting soon and who knows how many miles she’d have to cross to find where she’s required to be. Unfortunately, the map does nothing to help. In fact, it only makes her that much more confused.

“You won’t be needing that.”

And just like that, the map is yanked up and out of her hands. She holds herself back from rolling her eyes in annoyance and turns to face her first bully– or– bullies, both of them, identical to each other.

They smile widely, ginger hair framing their faces, which were oddly kind looking for bullies. The one rolls the paper map into a scroll, handing it back to her. “New girl.” He states.

“American, I’ve heard?” The other one chips in with a wide grin. Twila looks between the two of them, not fully grasping their intentions just yet, but finding herself somewhat amused by them. They chuckle. “Where are you heading?”

She scratches the back of her neck. “Um… Herbology?”

They nod, making the same exact head movement and sound. 

“Right, you’ll want to head that way. You’ll know you’re there when you see the, you know… plants.” They chuckle together.

“See you around, America.”

And like that, they’re gone, lost in the sea of students.

Putting the map back in her bag, Twila does as they say until she finds the, you know, plants. As she enters the classroom, she sees that everyone is already settled in the stools. She tries to sneak by everyone to the nearest open spot, but her appearance is clear to everyone, eyes following her as she walks deeper into the classroom. She places her bag down onto the floor beside her, silently looking around the classroom as the professor begins instructing.

“I wouldn’t make a habit out of arriving late to class. It makes a poor first impression.” A voice calls lazily from behind her.

She spins in her chair with a taken aback look, coming face to face with a boy who has dirty blond hair and cloudy blue eyes. “There’s been an awful lot of talk about you.” He continues, staring off into the distance with his face resting against his palm. Damn. It’s only the first day and there’s already talk about me? “Don’t worry, mostly positive.” He says, almost as if he had read her mind.

“Mostly?” She asks with sudden questioning interest in the boy.

He chuckles light, going silent as the professor glances their way for a moment, before continuing. “So, what is your name?” The boy asks quietly as the professor faces away from the two of them.

“Twila. DeLuna.”

He smiles just slightly, reaching his hand out in her general direction to shake hers. “Ominis. Blind.”

Her eyes widen at this bluntly stated information, her hand loosening in his grip. “Oh…”

He chuckles, pulling his hand away to rest back against the desk. “It helps to put it out there right away. So, how are you liking Hogwarts?”

The two continue to chat throughout class, which goes by surprisingly quickly for Twila despite it being a rather uneventful class.

“You’ll get used to the routines eventually, and trust me, there are many routines. Good luck out there, Twila. And don’t hesitate to ask for help if you need it. I know a few secrets myself if you’re ever interested.” Ominis gives her a friendly smile just before he exits into the hallway as class is dismissed.

Her next class, however, does not grant her the speed she would have liked.

She follows the rest of the students out, standing in the leafy Herbology hall as she digs for her schedule. Defense Against the Dark Arts with Professor Snape. She gulps at the name, remembering all that her and Ms. McGonagall had discussed. Another bit of unfortunate news for her is that the class is on the opposite side of the school.

She continues onward, walking the corridors until she walks through a door that leads her to an open bridge. The warm sun shines down on her face when suddenly three students fly just above her head on their brooms, the wind swishing past causing her robes to levitate. The other students seem unphased by this, but she can’t help but admire the Scottish Highlands as she walks forward until the next building consumes her view.

She finally enters the dark tower and she’s shocked when she is overcome by its gentle and classical aesthetic. Not what she had expected from a Dark Arts building.

She stands to the side, looking at her map once more, when suddenly she feels some type of fluff brush against her leg. She looks down to see a small creature looking up at her. Cats. They have cats in the school.

After going up and down the stairs,  and then back up and back down, she finally finds the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. She scurries to the nearest open seat as Professor Snape stares her down from his desk. He must recognize her already. She adjusts herself awkwardly under his intense gaze, until he goes back to his work, waiting for class to begin.

Shortly after, a group of laughter enters through the door and Twila sees a familiar blond approach her section. His group makes their way to some of the open seats surrounding, while their leader struts to one right next to her. It’s not until he’s nearly sitting in his chair that he seems to notice her. He furrows his brows as he seats himself fully, a smirk rising to his face as he looks at her. “What are you doing here in this class? It's much too advanced for the likes of you, you must have been given the wrong schedule. Class for the regulars is after lunch, not before” Draco says in a rude and condescending way.

"I do have the ability to study, mind you." She responds dryly.

He rolls his eyes. “Oh, I'm sure you do, Ravenclaw.” He chuckles. “But a N.E.W.T. level class? Do you even know what that means?” He asks with a smug smile, speaking to her as if she were a small child.

"I'll know what it means when I pass mine and you don't." A small smirk pulls on her lips.

He scoffs, turning to sit forward in his seat. “Good luck with that. Only the best witches and wizards succeed in that, and well… look at you.” 

She smiles ever so slightly. “We’ll see.”

He looks at her with a smirk. “Are you challenging me?” He says with another condescending laugh, feeling almost amused by her behavior. 

Twila lets out a small scoff, playing with a pencil on her desk.  “I’m shocked you even remembered me.” 

“Hardly. It’s difficult remembering someone as forgettable as you. A Ravenclaw in a N.E.W.T. class, you might as well be invisible.” He finishes with a smirk, laughing to himself as some of his friends nearby join along.

She rolls her eyes, turning back towards her desk. She didn’t have time for this, especially not in front of Snape.

However, Draco doesn’t seem to mind the professor, continuing with a chuckle, leaning into the desk nonchalantly. “Come on. You’re the American girl, right? Jewel’s newest addition to her crew of servants.” He rolls his eyes at the infamous group of friends, now recruiting their fourth member. He then faces the front of the classroom, dismissing her.

She had nearly forgotten all the things Jewel had warned her about Draco. She couldn’t be caught with her guard down around him, or any Slytherin for that matter. “I believe she introduced me as ‘best friend’.” She states, which immediately gets his attention back.

He scoffs, shaking his head. “You must be deaf. She said ‘best friend from America’ and last I recall, you’re her only friend from that forsaken country. Naturally that’d put you in first place. So, congratulations. But here– well, I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before you’re forgotten amongst the rest.” A sly smirk forms on his face.

I can’t believe this is the close friend Jewel told me about for all these years. “You seem oddly competitive to be her number one.” Twila says with a smirk.

His face twists into a grimace. “You can have her all you want. But trust me, from her standpoint, there is no competition between you and I.” He says more like a warning.

And perhaps he may be right about that, however, “Her and I are closer than you think.”

He raises a dubious eyebrow at her. “Really? And how long have you two even known each other?”

“Ten years.” She states proudly. “She’s told me a lot about you.”

He’s caught off guard by this at first, squinting his eyes at her in curiosity, but soon he scoffs. “Ten years.” He repeats. “Funny. She hardly mentions you at all, for having such a ‘close friendship’.” And with that, he faces away.

Damn. This would be harder than I thought.

Class continues as Twila expected, long and boring. The subject wasn’t exactly a new one for her, so fortunately she wasn’t completely clueless. However, she notices Professor Snape glance at her every now and again, and she knows exactly why. He is studying her. Trying to learn her situation from afar. Honestly, she was guilty for doing the same. She would be working closely with him in these coming months, after all. It would be wise to learn what makes him tick.

Eventually, class is dismissed and students once again pour out the door.

Draco talks with his friends, ignoring Twila like he did the whole remainder of the class, this is until Professor Snape trudges their way. 

His hand emerges from his dark cloak and in it resides a letter. The letter. “Twila.” He states.

She looks up, eyes wide. “Y–, uh, Yes, Professor?”

He hands her the letter in silence before resigning back to his desk.

She stares at the familiar envelope in her hands with a quiet, but dreadful sigh, grazing her thumb over its red wax seal. 

Draco eyes her closely as she stands up, completely abandoning his friends to follow her out the door. “And what is that exactly?” He asks from behind her, attempting to peer over her shoulder.

She spins around to face him, quickly hiding the note in her bag. “Oh, suddenly you’re interested in my existence?” She smirks.

He rolls his eyes.”Curious as to what the hell makes you special.” He forces a grimace onto his face. However, the fact that he is still interested in her letter, despite displaying a strong dislike for her, tells Twila more.

She scoffs, beginning to walk away again. “Nothing you need to be concerned with.” She says, choosing to ignore any other rude comments he has to say to her. As he stands silent, she can only sigh before taking her map out again.

He groans when he sees the paper, immediately trying to shield it away. “Please. Put that thing away before someone sees you. I can’t believe a well respected Slytherin like Jewel would pick up someone like you.” He mutters the last part under his breath. “Where are you trying to go?” He asks irritatedly, checking the halls for observers.

“Potions.” Twila answers, equally as annoyed now, stuffing her map away.

“Just follow me, I have potions next as well. Lucky me, I get to have you in my presence for another hour.” He grumbles as he leads her forward down the cobbled hallway.

“Trust me, the honor’s all mine.” She states sarcastically, following him at a slight distance with her arms crossed.

As the two walk, Draco continuously glances over his shoulder at Twila, a hint of amusement in his eyes and a smug smirk on his face. “Don’t get so huffy, Twila.” He chuckles. “It’s probably the only emotion you’re capable of.” He mutters under his breath.

She holds back an eye roll. “I’ve been told I’m not the only one.” She says quietly to herself.

Draco stops in his tracks when he hears this. “What was that?” He says, facing towards her.

“You heard me.” She says, strolling past him with a smirk.

He glares at her back, but an oh so small smirk plays at the corner of his lips. “You know, maybe it’s the American in you, but most people don’t dare speak to me that way.”

Draco is good at acting intimidating, she’ll give him that, but it’s clear to her that it’s just a front. She faces him again. “What way?” She says with a daring smile.

He scoffs and smiles, walking closer to her. “It’s rather bold of you to be speaking to me in that tone. Most people have learned the hard way not to disrespect a Malfoy.”

She scoffs back. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m from America. Malfoy doesn’t mean a thing to me.” She smirks.

“Do you not understand? Surely Jewel would have told you just who I am, who my father is.” He says, leaning closer to her. “My family has a lot of influence here. I’m someone you’ll want to respect.” He smirks.

“Clearly not enough to be known overseas. And we’ll see about that.” She teases again. She knows she’s getting herself into dangerous territory, but she just couldn’t stop herself. It’s as if her wit has a mind of its own.

He takes a step closer, now invading her personal space. “You’d do best to watch your tongue, Twila. You might find your stay at Hogwarts very uncomfortable. No one likes a big mouth.”

Her smirk grows even further, as he seemed to just keep setting himself up for her next comments. “Then why do you keep talking?”

Draco’s eyes flutter in confusion as he’s taken aback by her response. He had always been used to people doing as he says, but she doesn’t back away from his intimidation and he finds it annoying that he doesn’t have the same influence as usual. “Well–” He starts, stammering over his words as he tries to narrow his eyes in forced irritation. “It’s because I want to. That doesn’t change the fact that you shouldn’t.” He continues to stare at her.

Twila giggles at his lame comeback and continues walking again.

He sighs from behind her, more annoyed than ever, but he quickly catches up to her and grabs her shoulders and forces her to face him once more. “Look at me, Ravenclaw.” He says in a stern voice, forcing authority into his tone. He wasn’t used to people ignoring his orders.

She raises an eyebrow at him, clearly not impressed by this tough act he’s putting on and equally as annoyed.

This was the first time Draco has met a Ravenclaw with this much attitude. At this point, he just gives up, looking down at her in pure confusion as he drops his arms back down to his sides. “You really are a weird Ravenclaw, aren’t you?” He says with his infamous grimace.

She scoffs. “I thought I was so forgettable?”

He rolls his eyes. “You’re still rather unimportant to me.” He says now with a smirk. “What did Snape give you?” He asks once again.

She rolls her eyes with a groan, entering the potions classroom as she ignores his question.

He follows closely behind, smirking and waiting for her to speak. “What’s so important that you won’t tell me?” He follows her to her seat.

She covers her face, groaning into her hands as he asks again. He smirks, enjoying the reactions he’s getting out of her. “It must be something bad, right? What is it?” He asks again.

“Yes, I’m getting expelled on my first day.” Twila says sarcastically.

He raises a brow at her sarcasm. “So, you’re not in trouble? Why do you act like you’re hiding something then?”

“Because it’s none of your business.” She states simply.

He can’t help but smile at her boldness. “Well, I hope you’re aware I’m not going to stop asking until you tell me.” 

She sighs, pulling out her potions book as class begins. She can’t understand why he cares so much. Maybe Jewel told him that he has to be friends with me or something.

Professor Slughorn dismisses the class to their own groups to make a potion. Twila looks at Draco in the corner of her eye as he continuously stares at her throughout class. She notices his attempt to hover around her and annoy the information out of her. Is this what he does for fun? She thinks. “You don’t have many friends, do you?” She asks.

He tries to conceal his defensive feelings towards her question by making himself sound calm and unbothered. “Well, seeing as there’s no one important in this class, I have no choice but to entertain myself with something.” He says dismissively.

She smiles, glancing at him for a second, before turning back to the small introductory potion in front of her, “There’s nothing wrong with making a new friend, you know.” She smirks, knowing he’d be all but offended just by the suggestion.

He rolls his eyes a bit with a chuckle. “I’m not sure I’d call you a friend just yet, but keep up with the attitude.”

Twila hums, adding horklump juice into the pot and stirring the mixture with a large wooden spoon. “Well, you should know, I don’t usually tell non-friends about my private letters.”

He chuckles. “I’m not even sure why you’re hiding it, to be honest. It’s a school letter, what could be so important about it?” He watches as the potion’s bubbles settle and dissolve into a different color completely.

“I suppose you’ll never know, will you?” She smirks, tapping the spoon against the side of the bowl to get the few last drips of potion off the wooden utensil before resting it on the table.

He shakes his head, smirking back. “Is that a challenge to find out?”

“Isn’t everything a challenge with you?” She asks exhaustedly. 

He only grins at this, narrowing his eyes down at her. “I think you might’ve just made a very dangerous enemy, Ravenclaw.” He chuckles. He’s curious how she’ll react to his teasing, but she just sighs and continues on with class. Draco can’t help but laugh at the way she rolls her eyes so casually when he tries to be intimidating. He’s never had a reaction like this before.

Soon enough, class ends and Draco had stopped asking her about the letter. For now. Twila’s next class is Divination, which she has been looking forward to all summer. She suspects she’ll do well in the class, considering that she’s already quite knowledgeable in the subject.

Before she knows it, dinner time arrives.

If she thought breakfast was hectic, nothing prepared her for this. Students are even louder, and even more riled up than the first two meals combined. She finds her seat at Ravenclaw table, after dodging a few flying papers and flutters of magic she truly did not want to ask about.

She reaches for a chicken leg, when suddenly the bench jumps with weight. She looks up to find herself surrounded by familiar faces. “Hey! What are you guys doing here?” She asks in confusion.

“It’s dinner, we can sit anywhere.” Jewel says, reaching for a nearby plate. 

“And on the weekends, since there’s no class.” Penelope bites into a small cut corn cob, some of her bright orange strands sticking to her face from the juice residue left behind from her meal. “And please, lose the uniform. It’s only required for class.” She says, the vegetable barely staying behind the confines of her teeth while she speaks.

Twila glances over at Penelope, seeing how she had already managed to ditch her red robes for her normal attire. “Oh…” She says, quickly pulling her arms from her heavy robe sleeves, causing her friends to chuckle.

“So, have you made any friends yet, Twila?” Celia speaks up softly, her usual friendly smile on her face.

Twila nods excitedly. “Yes– well– I think anyway… There’s this boy in my Herbology class. Ominis?”

She watches as Celia’s eyes widen and awkwardly glance around the table. Penelope immediately shakes her head at Twila with warning, as her eyes gesture behind her to Jewel.

“Gaunt?” Jewel sternly questions, nearly spitting out her food. “No. Twila, we talked about this.” She sets down her half eaten bread to face Twila fully with a worried look.

Twila’s brows contort in confusion. “Barely, and I didn’t know he’s a Gaunt. Besides, he seems really nice.” She tries to defend him.

“I was hesitant to even introduce you to Malfoy and he’s my best friend.” Jewel sighs, looking at the table for a moment before turning towards her once more. “Look, there are many powerful, dark, pureblood families in this school. Families that are best to avoid at all possible costs, especially the Gaunt’s and the Riddle’s. Someone as vulnerable as you needs to stay away.” She warns.

However, Twila takes minor offense to her words. “As vulnerable as me?” Celia and Penelope stay quiet.

Jewel sighs, dropping her shoulders. “Twila. You’re a new student, far from home, you have no family here, not to mention your… status– Not that that’s a problem with me, it’s just– They’re cruel people and they’ll use anything they can to diminish you to nothing. Don’t let yourself be their next victim. Please, promise me you won’t talk to them.” She all but begs.

Twila slumps over, disappointed yet understanding of what Jewel has just said. She considers her words, trying to not let the truth of them bring her down. “So, why do you get to speak with them?” She asks.

“I hardly do, and as far as they’re concerned, my family is equated in status. I practically grew up with all of them.” She lets out a short breath. “I just want to protect you. I’ve seen what they are capable of and–” She stops with a sad look, letting Twila’s imagination fill in the rest.

Twila fiddles with her spoon, letting her eyes drop from Jewels. How could someone like Ominis be so bad? Draco seems worse than him and yet Jewel speaks of Ominis as if he’s evil incarnate.

“Anyways, shall we go to the library when we’re finished here? I still wanted to show you that collection I thought you might enjoy?” Jewel asks, almost as if their previous topic never existed.

Twila stammers over her words. “I– I’m actually pretty tired after today. I think I’ll just head back up to my dorm to sleep.” It was only half a lie, though for the most part, she just needed some time alone after all of today’s events.

“Oh.” Jewel says, puckering her lips in disappointment. “Do you remember your way?”

Twila nods, before standing up and bidding them goodbye.

“See you in charms tomorrow!” Celia waves.

Twila is, once again, first to retire to her room, unless the few students already studying on the common room couches counted. She sits at the edge of her bed, tossing her robes to the side of her. She reaches into her bag, feeling for a certain envelope, and takes it out, admiring the Hogwarts stamped seal. With a deep breath, she peels open the envelope, pulling out the handwritten parchment inside.

'Miss DeLuna,

We are very excited to have you as a new student here at Hogwarts and we are here to make your stay as enjoyable and comfortable as possible. I hope that you are settling into your classes nicely.

Tuesday morning, just before the light touches the sky, your presence is required in the old detention room for your first evaluation with Professor Snape. Just follow the sleeping dragon and the hissing whispers of the Slytherin Common Room and you will find it. Be sure to not sleep in. Professor Snape can be a tough one to impress at times, it’s best to stay on his good side.

Once again, please be as discreet as possible, for this is sensitive information for other students to be involved with.

Best wishes, Twila

Ms. McGonagall'

‘Before the light touches the sky.’ Perhaps it’s a good thing Twila came up to her room early; She’d be having another long day ahead of her tomorrow.

She folds the letter back up, but as she reaches to place it on her nightstand, the parchment shrivels up, shredding itself mid-air and dancing to the floor before disappearing entirely.

She lays her head back on her pillow, staring at the floorboard where the letter once was. She’s to officially meet Snape tomorrow. She’s almost overwhelmed at the speed at which this is all happening. It seems so soon, but she’s here for a reason and she can only hope that it will work.

[goodbyeapathy8]

An update from GoodbyeApathy

I dreamed of Mignon last night. It was the first time in a long time, ever since he died last month and I dreamt of him then.

He looked happy. Healthy. Prancing around and yowling as he usually did.

I don't know if it's wishful thinking on my part, the ancestors sending along his message or what. But I did my best with him, with the limited resources that I had.

Is this me processing? I've been dissociating for a while. Even with the job rejections, it's more of a numb "oh okay some more" instead of a caving moment of failure again.

I'm not okay yet. I won't be for a long time. The official judgment papers for the divorce were mailed out to me. I have digital copies on top of backups "just in case". In case of what, I'm not sure. The divorce ate up 3 years of my life, the marriage twice that amount.

The only thing I'm sure of is how good the platinum hair will look on me, in over a week's time. That's all I know. Everything else always seems up in the air, unsettled.

It will take time. It will take grace. It will take a lot more patience than I've given myself so far. I'm trying.

--

I've been away for a while. The above was a vague reference to everything I've been through in the past 2 months.

Moved from California to Alabama by myself. It was 2,500+ miles of driving with my 3 senior dogs. For one of them, Mignon, it ended up being too much. Still not sure what made him deteriorate so fast the last few days of the 6 day drive but I had to put him down after I'd arrived in Alabama.

Doing the drive with multiple disabilities was brutal. With 3 dogs, even more so. I severely underestimated the amount of care that was needed for all of us on this trip.

Going on 1 year of unemployment and that was the reason I had to move in with my sister and BIL. She was literally the only option left and while I love her to bits, it's been a huge adjustment to go from independent solo living to 2 entire human beings + 2 more dogs + 1 cat.

Anyway. I'm processing. Maybe. Mostly dissociating. But in case anyone cares and is still here, wondering if I'm alive - I am. Sort of.

[limetameta]

Played the Last of Us when I was a kid and now I watched the show for the first time and I gotta tell you what this has spawned is a TLOU au in Fmab where Riza and Edward are Joel and Ellie. Al is dead. Blood seal broke trying to save Ed from the infected swarming them. Ed is immune because he did human transmutation. Actually in this au it isnt a fungal evolution type infection per se as much as its a bioalchemy experiment on fungi gone severely wrong so the only people immune are those who did human transmutation because it's fun, chimeras can get infected but it doesn't really spread like it does with humans so they have a longer time before they turn or maybe they need to get bit multiple times to turn. Homunculi ofc are immune because of the ph stone. Want to say that they use a gotcha system where if they get bit one of the souls in the ph stone croaks and not them. Absolutely same deal with Mr I swallow ph stones like a whore Kimblee who doesnt broadcast he has a ph stone so ppl think he's legit immune and they're hunting this mf down for a vaccine.

The author that brought you gnarly scenes such as anything in Black Honour also brings you a scene where Maes has to shoot baby Elicia because she got infected and went wild trying to kill Ed :D

Berthold Hawkeyes house is the best place to be. That man made a bunker decades before anyone thought smth like this might ever happen.

Riza and Ed run into many different folks on their way to figure out what the fuck is happening (this is like set in the 1st month since shit hit the fan so double the chaos - think trains getting derailed because of people going crazy and trying to eat each other - absolute pandemonoum purge type shenanigans where everything is new and the government is losing its grasp on the people)

Riza and Ed are trying to find Roy Mustang whom they only heard is somewhere up north east. Maybe in Central City (it hit it here first and hardest - overrun with infected)

They sent most of the State Alchemist to try and take care of this. But some like General Grand and Colonel Mustang got orders to take care of the infected and make sure it didnt spread - ie theyre the bombs in this au eyy it wasnt enough to do this shit in Ishval guess you need to do it again but in towns with ppl u genuinely know :D !! Horrific shit. Reason why Riza isnt with Mustang and doesnt know where he is.

Radios are down and they need to reastablish some towers that were knocked down.

(Fort Briggs for example in this au would be 0 infected because they kill the infected imediatelly sucks to be u but they are preserving their numbers and they too are in a giant bunker of sorts)

The homunculi are very pissed off about this because you cant use the infected as a soul for their big transmutation circle so Father has put them on Top priority to get to the bottom of this because they are running out of TIME.

Just for shits and giggles. And this rly is the cursed timeline: instead of splicing his daughter with her dog for his recertification exam, Shou Tucker tried doing a lil bit of a bioalchemy experiment with fungi :) because he's such a fun guy eyyy

Riza and Ed are in CC and Riza gets stabbed so this is now Ed's solo arc trying to find medicine for her and anyone to help. He takes her to Christmas dive bar to recuperate. Not a soul to be found there. Everyone is fleeing Amestris. Folks in Resembool are going to Ishval because they know nobody is there in the ruins. Ed doesnt know if Pinako and Winry are even alive but he hopes they are. Someone has to be in this mess.

Ed doesnt rly want to use his alchemy because the more he does the easier it is for these infected to find him. And while he is immune he doesnt fancy losing more limbs to these bastards.

Riza looked super unwell. Ed doesnt know if hed be able to navigate any of this by himself. He doesnt know if anyone he knows is still alive. She is his lifeline at the moment and this means he has to save her. Especially if Mustang is still alive. They gotta meet him and they gotta succeed.

Ed knows the hospital is too far away. But theres got to be a pharmacy nearby or smth he can raid. He has to.

But all of them have already been raided. And the infected are growing in numbers. Yet Ed refuses to go back. He can't let Riza down. He can't let someone else he loves die protecting him.

Through a series of dastardly events, Edward winds up finding a shackled man trying to break free from some infected chimeras. The man is screaming for help and crying and really being pathetic. Ed is the people's alchemist so he will help you pathetic crying man! Winds up saving him. Winds up getting mugged because the seemingly infeccted chimeras and the man are in on a con together to survive.

Edward fights them. Gets overpowered due to numbers. "MOTHERFUCKERS!!!"

"Children these days are so rude :/ "

Anyway after some more back and forth Ed learns this guy is some big shot alchemist from Ishval and asks him if he knows Riza Hawkeye. He needs medicine for her.

The chimeras are all like sorry kid we dont have any medicine.

Kimblee, with a ph stone in him: I could heal her with some alchemy. Our party would benefit from a sniper.

So Riza gets saved via ph stone. Wakes up and sees Kimblee. Imediatelly takes a gun and tries to shoot him.

Especially when she sees his bite marks!! Motherfucker STEP AWAY. Hes like I got these weeks ago!! Liar! No, really! I'm immune! And I'm the Fuhrer President himself *cocks gun*

Fun times lay ahead on their search for Roy Mustang.

[multiplicity-positivity]

i don't know if you guys are going to be able to help us but I don't know who to turn to,

Just for context, I am part of a newly discovered system, we have known that there are multiple people around it's been a couple of years but it was just recently that it was suggested that this might be caused by a disorder, but this is something that only a couple of other alters know about; our host knows about us and has interacted with us before but he is in deep denial over it.

Anyway, recently I have been trying to organize things and manage our inner world but we are having quite a few problems with communication and acceptance over this condition and it's starting to leak into the host's everyday life; (like for example we aways suffered from headaches due to switching but it's been getting more frequent and it makes our host (or anyone for that matter) to be completely unable to function properly, which leads to other health related problems); I know I should seek a therapist or a doctor to talk about this but medical care at the moment is pretty much impossible because of monetary and trauma related reasons so I am not sure how I should go about this; I just want to take care of my system and our host but it is just getting a little too much and I am lost I don't know what to do.

I am here looking for some advice from people that understand system related issues like this but it's completely okay if you guys can't help us, and my apologies in case you already answered any other ask like this.

Thank you.

Hi! So we know you said you couldn’t seek therapy or medical help, but we’d like to pass along something that often gets repeated for us in therapy.

We’ve been doing trauma work over the past 8 months or so. It is grueling, exhausting, and depressing work. We regularly get overwhelmed and reach a point where we’re not able to function. When it gets to this point, we don’t talk about trauma in therapy until we’re feeling better. It’s all about prioritizing our health and well-being, and that can’t happen if we’re always pushing ourselves in therapy and in our everyday lives without taking breaks to check in and relax.

Even if y’all aren’t doing trauma work, something very similar may be happening. You might be trying to take on too much at once, causing your system to suffer as a result. If learning about and trying to manage your system is making it difficult for you to function, you very well may need to pump the brakes for a while. Spend some time not focusing on your system. Learn a new hobby, watch a show or play a video game, and let your system’s inner workings sit unconsidered for some time. After your system has had a chance to calm down, and you’re not stressing out over your plurality as much, it may be safe to continue your efforts. But pushing yourself and your system too hard too fast can absolutely cause your system to get burnt out and have more difficulties recovering than normal.

So definitely our best advice for y’all would be to take things slow! Don’t push yourself too hard, and if it’s getting difficult to function, pause your efforts of in-system work until your system is feeling better. Do something you enjoy for a while and try to relax. Your system isn’t going anywhere - it’s okay to take your time figuring this out. And going slowly/taking your time with this will have huge benefits for your whole system. There’s no rush to get everything sorted and figured out ASAP. In fact, rushing like this can be detrimental (and it sounds like it’s had some negative effects on your system!).

For your host in denial, we have a post specifically for dealing with denial - maybe it could help put his mind at ease and take the pressure off the rest of you a little bit:

We’re wishing you the best of luck with this! We really aren’t a good stand in for therapy or medical treatment, though we understand you may be nervous to seek treatment if you’ve been traumatized in the past, or entirely unable to afford it. We hope that soon you can get the help you need for your system - there are gentle, trauma-informed therapists out there who could handle your system’s situation with kindness and grace! Until you’re able to access something like that, though, we’re wishing you peace, comfort, and plenty of rest! Good luck with everything, and remember to stay hydrated and take plenty of breaks!

🌸 Margo and 💫 Parker

[thefaiao]

    About two months ago my laptop’s HDD died. I couldn’t really recover anything in the moment, and just left it unplugged inside the case until I could take it somewhere to check if it the files were truly unsalvageable. I wasn’t that annoyed by it. I had backed up most important files relating to game work, and I didn’t care too much about drawings that I already posted. I wouldn’t mind backing them up, but I wouldn’t lose sleep over it since they are posted somewhere already.     This HDD actually had been on a long journey with me. It, together with the laptop, carried me through a whole year of living alone and isolated for everyone I knew. It had been having problems since forever but it soldiered through most of it. It’s actually impressive how long it lasted, to be fair. But any times it would show hints of death then, I’d have a nervous breakdown. My anxiety and isolation were at a critical level. Drinking some Monster sent me to the hospital for pure anxiety. So all the bad stuff blended together at the time, and I couldn’t bother to fix all of it. When you are living day by day and hanging on by a thread on all sides, every loss can feel very major.     It only died after I moved back home. The worst part about losing the HDD was having to reinstall all the programs, and relearn my routine. When working on long-term projects, routine is really the only thing that can carry you further. Games are composed of so many different pieces. The amount of programs you have to use really incentivise terrible habits, like leaving the computer on eternally, or having multiple programs open at all times.     When I got my first drawing tablet, my thought process was: “If I put this in front of me, eventually I’ll draw on it, even if out of boredom.” This actually worked. I think that by leaving all the different programs open, I am hoping to finish the game out of boredom. But it doesn’t work as well when you are on your mid-twenties and the weight of life starts creeping up your back. It just feels like you are stuck in some sort of hell, and if you aren’t using those programs or drawing, you aren’t really doing anything. I wasn’t a teen trying to teach myself how to draw like those cool internet artists; rather, I was an adult, with a faulty income source, alone, in the middle of nowhere.     I think moving out of my Mom’s apartment was a form of attempted suicide. I think I just wanted to leave the world, make the game or die. Games take longer than it’d take me to die. Maybe I didn’t know this consciously, but deep down I think I understood. It’s hard not to feel like a failure.     My parents always let me follow my whims. My Dad supports me, but I feel he sees me as more of a symbol. I don’t think he could describe my interests in detail, or the person I am. I am similarly distant to him, but I know he likes Blade Runner, and records, and running, and pretending to smoke big cigars. I like Blade Runner too. I wish he saw that I’m happy he likes Blade Runner, because I got to like Blade Runner because of that.     My Mom does understand me, and is able to describe who I am. But I don’t ever feel she is happy with my choices. She doesn’t mention it actively, perhaps out of tiredness, but she wishes I had a normal job, or had chosen another subject that not games. I don’t think the drawings or the commissions I’ve done mean anything to her. I don’t think they mean anything to anyone outside of my circles... I managed to support myself with them, but I wouldn’t say it was a completely successeful endeavour. I think she sees the game as a waste of time and energy, especially if it doesn’t make any money. It might not make any money.    It’s understandable. She won’t be here forever. I need a stable source of money, not just enough to pay some bills, sometimes. I feel I almost got tricked by the world into following my dream. I felt everything was telling me I should be honest with myself, and that I should chase after the things that mattered to me. So that’s what I did, and what I’ve been doing still. I’m not sure where I’m going in life. I think I just heard what I wanted to hear, and I always wanted to chase after a dream.    Two days ago, my new SSD died. I had used it to boot the laptop back up after the HDD died. I had already gotten into the routine again. It was brand new, and gifted by my friend to me. I didn’t ask for it, she just did it because she knew I needed it. I often complain about life, but thinking back now, this is truly something not everyone gets. It was brand new.    It died suddenly. I lost a good chunk of work on the game. We are getting closer to finishing the demo, so each part is major. I may have lost a model of the boss. This time I did have a nervous breakdown because of the loss of the laptop. The truth is that this past year has been setbacks after setbacks, and I feel my time ticking down.    Money worries from both my parents. Dog getting a tracheostomy, and all the medical care surrounding it. Having to live apart from my girlfriend, which I am dedicated to being with as long as I can. Having to constantly move to other places, without any certainty for the future, for reasons internal and external. And death, death everywhere.     I’ve gotten the habit of looking at my dog knowing he is living on borrowed time, getting sad, and petting him just a bit. I think that through all of this, I do a similar thing to the game. I look at it. Wonder how much time I have left to keep working and polishing it before moving on. Be happy about how far its come. Notice how much needs work on closer inspection. Get back to work.     When I spend a few weeks away from the game I noticed how much I care for it, and how much I like what it is. I don’t think everyone will notice why this matters to me, but maybe that is fine. And similarly, I feel like this about my dog. He may pass away soon, but he came so far, lived fifteen years and had many adventures. And I got to take care of him. So it’s not so bad. And he still barks everyday, and he still takes sunbaths. He still thinks, and decides.     The people who’ve been with me despite all of this puzzle me. My girlfriend has stuck with me through these decisions, and always says I am destined to make great things. The programmer, whom co-develops the game with me, has stuck with me and this game, and is willing to keep going as far as we need to make it complete. Things like this make me wonder if my dream is actually possible and real. And that I can brave through all these setbacks.    Is the game really that good? Is my work that good? Does it even matter if it is? I often show it to people and they don’t understand what’s good about it. All I know for now is that despite everything, I want to work on it still. I want to make this weird dream come true. I won’t get to play a game like the one I’m making, but maybe someone else out there will get to play it the way I wish I could.