#be it platonically or romantically the people around him have found themselves covered in blood

[little-shadow-club]

More Sutiel for me and three starving moots at the back

[plush-rabbit]

Let’s Split A Taxi

Warning: Non-Con

Word Count: 4.2K

A/N: Rappa is a big boi who wants love

You’ve known Kendo for ages- always the big brother that you never had. Someone who is so sweet to you, always protective and careful of his strength around you and even if he was a brash child, always getting found in fights- always the victorious one- he never once made you feel unsafe, never once threatened you. He held you in his strong arms, face buried into your shoulder and hugging you tightly, telling you that he would be careful next time- always a promise that he would never get hurt and somehow he took it as a challenge from you, to fight whoever gave you dirty look and always making sure he come out unscathed, not a single strand misplaced and only slightly out of breath. He only ever hurt himself when you cupped his cheek once, tutting at him that he had a scrape and you kissed it to make him feel better; his face flushed and freezing under your touch and you merely giggled, telling him to be careful. He was your big brother and he couldn’t get hurt, not when he still had to protect you. You had him a ribbon tied in your hair, it’s a dark blue color, rich and shimmering and you wrap it around his wrist. It’s a promise ribbon that he’ll be safe, you explain and you peck at his wrist and he’s over the moon.

Kendo Rappa has known you since you wore pigtails in your hair and held hands to cross the street, always begging for him to push you on the wings and giggling as he would send you soaring through the air, your hair ties loosening and falling off in the process. You were something so small and innocent, so pure and soft compared to his brutish self. He had to protect you and would do so. As you both grew, you both became different people, no longer needing to hold hands as you crossed the street and he would miss the warmth, the way you felt in his hand- as if you were always meant to fit there. The ribbon stayed hidden in his room, in a secret box, your lingering kiss still against it as a testament for your love to him. Swinging turned into trips to the convenience store to buy snacks- Kendo often stealing alcohol and giving you a cheeky grin. You always denied the beverage and he never pressured you- never wanted to force you to do something you were uncomfortable with- everything that you did, you did it with your consent. He wouldn’t force himself on you. And he wouldn’t allow anyone to force themselves on you either.

He would beat anyone if they grew too close to you, boys whose eyes wandered, riding the train together and getting off stops later, giving you a halfhearted excuse, as he followed the man who took pictures up your skirt. He’d protect you. You could never protect yourself, you were too delicate to do any of the sort. He never looked at the pictures either, stomping the phone because he hadn’t wanted to invade your privacy- he wanted to wait for the moment that you let him see you, that you would lie on his bed and interlock your hands in his hair and beg for him to be gentle. That thought was really all it took for him to be content- to always reach his high as he stuttered your name.

But then it wasn’t enough as you two grew older. He went into cage fighting, drool and blood seeped into the floor and his opponents a mess underneath him and you went to school, wearing tight clothing and a sweet smelling perfume.

He’d complain that you two weren’t as close as you once were- you had been studying more and more and wouldn’t make time for your best friend. He’s pout and let his hair fall to his eyes, and flop on your bed. You, of course, would shake it off and counter that he spent time fighting and it was always accompanied by a pout. He’d feel happy that you still cared about where he fought or not, rising on the bed and taking your hands in his and when did his hands get so rough and yours so soft? When was the last time you two held hands? Not since you were kids. 

Kendo Rappa might be a brute, bloodthirsty and ready to swing his arm back but he’s also noble and desperate for you love, his words rolling out of his mouth eloquently and somehow he always ends up spending the night, each on one side of the bed with no barriers because he’s your big brother- he’s nii-san- he’s not going to make things weird even if you two are older. 

He spends the night with you curled towards him, back pressed against his chest and his hips rutting into your backside, erection straining against his sweatpants, hands groping at your breasts, rough fingertips toying your nipples through the fabric and he’s grateful that you’ve always been a deep sleeper, grateful as he licks at your neck and watches your chest bounce when he flips you onto your back, and rubs at your clothed cunt, cock in fist as he muffles his moans. He always hesitates as he cums, shaking as he rises above you and pulls your shirt up, exposing your belly while his seme paints in white, hastily cleaning it up before you wake.

You agreed to sleep next to him, allowed yourself to sleep next to the man who loves you, who goes through your under drawer when you’re not home, and let him rub himself over your things like a dog humping the next bitch in sight. But you aren’t a bitch- you aren’t a common slut- you’re his love- his true love, the soulmate that he knows he belongs with but yet you haven’t realized yet. And when you wake up, buried in his chest with your slick gone cold and clinging to your entrance, you believe his words that you must have rolled over to him. But that still doesn’t explain why your breasts are sore, nipples rubbed raw and painful against the cushion of your bra. But your honorary big brother isn’t going to do that to you- he loves you but never anything romantic and least of all sexual.

Kendo Rappa loves you. You just haven’t realized your own feelings. You haven’t figured out yet that you love him. And that’s fine because subconsciously you do. You rest next to him, you let him slip his thickness between your thighs when you sleep, you gave him a key to your house and let him enter when you aren’t home- you welcomed him to do it even! Told him, your voice giggly and bubbly as you handed him the key and told him to make himself at home. And he did. He walks straight to your room and sprays the perfume he loves so much and jerks off to dirty articles of your clothing. You wouldn’t let him do that if you love him. He can understand that it’s dirty, that what he’s doing is filthy but he loves you so much and for so long and he’s gotten nothing but kisses on the cheek and simple hand holding. 

He’s a patient man but even then it runs thin as years go by.

-

He’s going to confess to you. He’s going to tell you how he feels, no doubt behind it, no friendly “I love you too Kendo” said to him in response, it’s going to be met with a kiss and his hands on you and yours on his.

You two are going to go out for drinks and he’s going to look his best. He’d invite you for drinks at his place or even bring some over to yours but then you’d just think of it as a hangout- you wouldn’t think of it as a date. You’d smile softly at him and call him the best as you two watched old movies and you eventually slipped into a deep sleep where he can jerk off next you, where he can grab at your limp hand and touch his own cock with it, melting at the size difference, you sleep as he kisses your thighs and rests before your heat and he’s so desperate to see what you have hidden beneath, so desperate to taste and feel, but he can watch the slow breathing of your chest in the meantime. He’s grateful that you can’t hold your liquor. Grateful that you trust him so much to drink next to him.

He dresses his best- the best that he can at least. Jeans that aren’t ripped, boots that don’t have dried blood on them, a shirt that hugs his body and shows his muscles, and his soft, long hair that’s tied into a bun, bangs still falling to his face and covering his eyes like a mask. He waits patiently at the bar, bouncing his leg and waiting for you to make your appearance, a half empty bottle in front of him- a quick drink from liquid courage. He doesn’t think he’s ever been this nervous. He’s confessed to you before, told you as young as the age of eight that he loved you, blushing and thinking he might die until he hears you say it back- but it isn’t the same- it’s gone in that horrendous cycle over and over again, each time feeling his heart break. But he should have realized it sooner. Should have known you were the dense type, oblivious to feelings when it came to you. All you needed was the right set up, the perfect push that this friendship wasn’t just a friendship- it was a relationship that you’ll love because you already love him but it’s just mistaken as platonic. 

He leans in his chair, hand wrapped loosely around the bottle, drops of water collecting in his palm, the inter hand stuffed in his pocket, toying with the now faded ribbon that you had given him all those years ago. When he hears the server say welcome and he looks up, eyes wide and full of hope and there you are- stunning as always. Hair done nicely, wedges on and body wrapped in a little black dress, hugging at your curves. You, as always, take his breath away. He waves his hand in the air and you perk up, walking swiftly towards him and he rises immediately, pulling out your chair. You give a puzzled grin and sit down, thanking him. He’s sure he has a dopey grin on him because when he sits back down you giggle.

“What happened to you Kendo? You look all happy,” you cross your legs under the table grab at a menu left on the table.

“Can’t I be happy spending time with my favorite person in the world?” He’s cheery around you- softer than usual, always wanting to compliment you and smile at you.

You shrug and call a waiter over, raising your hand and sitting straighter when noticed. A young man comes around, side swept brown hair and eyes to match. Kendo doesn't really care what’s being discussed, it’s an order of a drink, what is he going to miss. All he does is focus on how cute you look, smiling politely and handing the menu off to the wiater. 

“Are you hungry?” Kendo asks, scooting closer to the table. “I can order us something to eat if-”

“Nah, I’m okay Kendo.” Your fingers drum on the table. “I had a quick meal before heading over. You know me, I can’t hold my alcohol and I heard that putting something in your stomach helps you last a bit longer.”

“Oh.” His shoulders deflate and he rubs the back of his head.

“If you’re hungry, you can get something, I’ll help peck at it if you’d like,” you offer.

He shakes his head. “No, it’s fine. I ate too-” a lie, he wanted to share a meal with you- something he’s seen lovers do before- “I only asked because I didn’t want you to go hungry around me.”

You smile at him and it's gentle. “Aw Ken, that’s sweet.” Your arm extends and you reach over to hold his hand. “Always looking out for me.”

“I have to,” he replies quickly. “I’ll always look out for you.” He nudges your leg playfully under the table.

You give him a cheeky smile and nudge his leg back. “Yeah, you always have, haven’t you?” You have a wistful tone to you. “Why don’t you tell me about your day, huh? It’s been a while since we talked. How’s the whole fighting going? Still being careful?”

He nods. “Of course! You know me-” he pauses and your drink is placed in front of you. You thank the waiter and he continues to talk. “I’ll always be careful. We promised each other I would be.”

You take a sip of your drink and laugh. “Oh my god, you still remember that promise? Oh man, we were so young,” you shake your head, reminiscing the memories. “And you’re still picking fights,” you give him a sharp grin and he smiles. You’re flirting with him. That’s all that he needed as a boost.

“And winning them,” he adds.

“You were always a good fighter. Even without your quirk.” 

He can’t hold it in anymore. He can’t wait another second- he can’t wait for the perfect moment, he has to make the perfect moment and with you taking a sip of alcohol, a red tint already appearing on your face, the glow of the lights above illuminating you, he knows that whatever perfect moment he’s supposed to wait for is now. He puts his hand over his jean pocket, the silky ribbon barely making an impression and he takes a drink of his beer.

“I love you,” he tells you, voice honest and tight, eyes peering through his hair and into yours, heart pounding in his chest and trying so desperately to calm himself as he waits for your answer.

“I love you too Ken,” you reply, cheerfully, taking another sip of your drink, ready to move on from the conversation.

“No.” His voice is stern and you look up at him. “I-” he clears his throat- “I love you. As in I want us to be more than friends.”

Your shoulders raise an inch and you blink at him, lips parted. “Oh.”

“I know, I know,” his hands appear and they rest on the table, palms facing the ceiling, waiting for you to slip your hands in his. “Not exactly the most romantic place to confess but I’ve loved you since we were kids and I thought that the location of me confessing didn’t really matter since it’s all about love and shit.”

You swallow and put your glass down, the amber liquid suddenly burning as it goes down your throat. “You,” you hesitate, “love me? Like love, love?” He nods and has this wide grin on him. “Wow, um- since we were kids?” You ask incredulously.

“You know, at this point, you’re supposed to say it back.” His tone is teasing and his fingers curl inwards. 

You uncross your legs and stare at the lipstick stained rim of the glass. “Kendo?” Your voice comes out scared and you cough weakly into the crook of your elbow. You can’t quite meet his eyes and instead stare at his hair. “I- I’m sorry,” you watch as he deflates in front of you and it hurts you but you don’t want to lead him on, “I don’t feel the same way. I- You’re like a big brother to me Kendo- we've been friends since we were like six,” you laugh nervously but it dies quick at his silent demeanor. “Kendo, I’m-” you reach your hands over to hold his own but even with the separation you can feel his warmth, and you flinch away.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, his loud demeanor suddenly gone.

“No, Kendo, it isn’t your fault. It’s just-” you sigh and let your head fall, “I think we should just go home.” Your hands push themselves against the edge of the table. “Come on, we can split a taxi.”

“No, no,” he says, shaking his head, smile returning albeit a bit forced. “I invited you to get some drinks- I made this weird, come on- we’re still friends, aren’t we?”

A genuine smile makes it way on your face, curving your lips upwards and making you appear softer than before. “Of course we are,” you tell him, slipping your hand into his and giving him a reassuring squeeze. “We’ll always be friends.” You slip your hand out his just as his was about to grasp onto yours.

“Then come on, let’s drink and then we can split that taxi,” he gives you a lopsided smile, immediately hidden by a bottle and you return it.

The night goes on spent in a bar until the numbers start to dwindle. He asks for the waiter to remove your glasses each time you finish one, some of them gone when they’re half empty, but he keeps buying you new ones, encouraging you to try a new fruity blend that has such a pretty color, your favorite color and won’t it look nice on your social media page- come on, you have to drink it since he bought it for you. He takes baby sips from his drink, watching as your movement grow heavier, your speech slurring and your eyes grow heavy. He only smiles at you, pushing another glass towards you, telling you it’ll wake you right up and of course, you listen, drinking it greedily, flinching at the bitter taste and he orders you something sweeter. 

“I love you,” he says again, tilting his head and a soft smile appearing on his face, making his eyes narrow in the process and glint with deviance.

You giggle and lean forward. “I-” you giggle, “love you too Kendo,” your words slur and lean back against your seat, your legs parting. “I love you so much,” you smack your lips and take another sip of your drink.

“Are you tired?” You nod, eyes starting to close as if you barely realized that you were tired. “Let’s split a taxi, yeah? We can go back to your place and slip into bed.”

You nod lazily and when you rise you stumble, but he;s right there to catch you, his arms hooking underneath your legs and you’re pressed against his chest, eyes heavy and breath stained with amber.

-

Your bedsheets are pink, pillowcases white and a brown teddy bear on it that’s been toppled over with his movements. Your room glows and the bed creaks as he moves. You’re on your back, face turned and eyes closed, a puddle of drool spilling out of your mouth and creating a dark stain.

Your dress was taken off as soon as he entered your home, clumped near the entrance and the rest of your clothing thrown around your room. You were still as he placed you on your bed, chest rising as you slept peacefully and he stood above you and wasted no time. His own clothes promptly discarded and tossed to the side, the edge of your ribbon peeking out of his pockets, and he kissed you as he entered you- a declaration of his love- sealing the deal with a kiss and you tasted of fruit and bitter all at once. 

He made sure that you were prepped, whispering to you how he wouldn’t hurt you, that the first time as a couple was going to be done right- no pain and all pleasure. He pressed his fingers inside, massaged at your walls, kissed at your neck and murmured about how hot you were. He’s going to take care of you- protect you forever and ever.

He moves inside of you, feeling your body tighten and drip around him, your mouth parted open and breasts moving softly. He peppers you in kisses, drowns you in love bites, worships you as he hooks an arm under your leg and curses as he goes deeper in you.

“I love you,” he repeats, chanting it breathlessly, beads of sweat dripping down his forehead. He pants and sighs. Your sex is much better than anything else he’s ever fucked of yours. Better than your underwear, better than our thighs, better than your hand wrapped around him and he presses himself deep, clenching his legs and suckling on your neck. He cries as he ejaculates inside of you, his semen filling you and making you oh so wet. “Thank you for loving me back,” he sighs and he continues to move.

He doesn't know how long he’s there, time moving slow and too quick all once until you start to shift and he stills for a moment.

“Are you okay?” He whispers. “Do you feel sick? Do you want me to get you water?”

He watches you as you groan, kicking your legs in a desperate, tired kick, your brows furrowed and eyes opening only to squint back shut at the presence of light.

“Ken-” you yawn and your head lolls to the side. “Kendo, where-”

“You’re place baby,” he presses a kiss to your temple and continues his movements slowly, not wanting to upset your belly. “You had a bit too much drink,” he answers honestly.

“My place,” you mumble.

“We shared a taxi,” he tells you, pressing a kiss on the corner of your lips.

“Shared,” you repeat. But then your lips pout. “No… No, we split a taxi.”

“Split baby,” he reaffirms, hissing as he moves inside of you.

“Ba,” you whisper, letting the word fade. “No,” you shake your head and you open your eyes despite the discomfort. “What’s going on?” You try to peer down and your eyes widen, heartbeat increasing gradually. “Kendo, what are you doing?”

“Shush,” he croaks out, “you humped me in the ride home, practically flipping your dress in front of the taxi driver,” he lies through his teeth, letting it roll off as if it were the truth. “You wanted this. You wanted my love.”

You shake your head and try to push him off of you, your hands weak against him and you end cupping his chest in your hands. “That’s- No, Kendo, I didn’t,” your mind is still foggy and you want to sleep. “I- You’re a friend- a big brother- Kendo,” you shake your head and your mouth tastes of acid. “Kendo,” you whine, tears slipping down your face, your chest heaving, bottom lip wobbling. “Stop,” you beg.

“It’s okay,” he kisses away your tears, lips salty and uncomfortable as they press against your face. “It’ll feel good for you too, I promise.”

“It doesn’t,” you sob as your childhood friend assaults you, his weight and strength too much for you and you’re suffocating under him.

“It will.” 

A course hand runs down your body, sliding between skin and you flinch as he grazes your clit. You whine under him, and he ignores your pleas. He moves at a gentle pce, not wanting to harm you or cause you sickness, his fingers massaging at your pearl and tongue running flat against your neck. Your chest jumps and voice croaks, kisses placed generously over your collarbone and leading to your nipple, nursing on a breast, mouth wrapping around you whole and he nips at your nipple, soothing it over with a kiss when you sob harder.

He’s close again, feeling himself pump inside of you faster, your gummy walls around him slick with yours and his arousal and he can feel your clit twitching under his finger, pulsing with desire. He groans above you, moaning your name, aching as he reaches his high, cursing under his breath, loving you in the next sentence, coating you in spittle, wiping away tears and he pinches the bundle of nerves between his fingers, eager to finish with you, wanting to feel how you would tighten around him, how your walls would spasm and you’d moan against him.

All it takes is a simple kiss, his tongue pushing past your closed lips and hooking your legs over his arms and he can feel you twitch, your body going rigid for a moment while your velvety walls convulse around him, aching to be filled again, milking him and when he lets his seed fill you, he hears you cry, your arms falling limply at your sides and he keeps the kiss, your name muted between lips.

He pulls away, wincing as he removes himself and he cups your face in his hand, thumb brushing away a stray tear and he has this gentle smile that a monster should never have- that someone as bloodthirsty and horrible should never let a smile grace his face and yet- there it is, smiling down at you.

“I’m going to love and protect you.” There’s a wild glint in his eye and your reflection peers back at you. His tone is anything but sweet, anything but promising and the sick feeling in your stomach only grows stronger when he kisses against your slack lips. “And you’ll love me back.”

[amberskywrites]

Disgraced Together

“This Love” Collection

AO3 Link || Masterpost 

Fandom / Genre: Nanatsu no Taizai (The Seven Deadly Sins) / Angst

Pairing: Meliodas & Zeldris

Warnings: Abusive/Shitty/Controlling Father, Forcing siblings apart, Demon King A+ Parenting

Notes: “This Love” Collection is a series of one shots that all take place in the same... AU? In this story people have marks which represent the strong bonds people make with others. It’s kinda like a soulmate AU, except it’s not pre-destined love and the marks can fade. Relationships will vary, from both romantic to platonic to familial. Imma attempt to post one of these weekly until I feel I’m happy with how many of these stories I’ve made!

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Demons, like all the other clans, had bond marks. Or rather, they had marks and marks for others could form. But most demons kept their distance from one another, tried to avoid bonding. Bond marks were only for demons who had been stuck together for thousands of years and had fought hundreds of wars side by side. Chandler and Cusack, for example.

Bond marks were not for young demon princes like Meliodas and Zeldris.

They were young, still so very young. The war with the goddesses and the other clans hadn't yet been thought up, though tensions were still high. Zeldris had only just learned how to fly with his wings made from shadows, and Meliodas was still just a child demon beginning to learn to fight.

The Demon King didn't spend much time with his sons, opting to have Chandler and Cusack watch and raise the princes. It was hell for the two mentors though, the demon princes often sneaking off to who knows where. The elder demons had trouble tracking them, especially when they would disable their magic outside of the demon realm for a few hours.

Those hours were precious to Meliodas and Zeldris. The Demon King looked down on jokes or tears or angry rants, and only approved of the blank stares the boys would put on just to avoid the Demon King's look of disdain. But in these hours alone, Meliodas and Zeldris got to be themselves.

They were allowed to be happy. They were allowed to cry. They were allowed to be furious and terrified and giddy and full of love. They were allowed to be brothers, allowed to play rough and cuddle after for however long they wanted.

Chandler and Cusack would pretend to be unable to find the princes when the two young demons were having their little bonding moments.

Meliodas and Zeldris had bond marks. Just one each on their chest. Zeldris had a dragon on his chest, a dragon curled protectively around a shield. And Meliodas had a cracked crown on his, blood dripping down the center crack of the crown.

Their marks represented their bond as brothers.

But they knew better than to wear the marks with pride. It was dangerous for the princes to have any bond mark other than the one on their wrists, their own bond marks. The Demon King would be furious if he ever found out.

And he was.

Zeldris flinched at the calm tone of their father, gripping tightly to Meliodas' arm. The Demon King wasn't yelling, but Zeldris could feel the rage seeping of his father. It was overwhelming, suffocating, burning him without even a hint of hellfire in the area.

But Meliodas stood between Zeldris and the Demon King, shielding Zeldris away from their father's scornful gaze. For a moment, Zeldris felt envious of his brother, how he could stand so confidently and stare their father in the eyes with a glare of his own when Zeldris felt as though he could just disintegrate into ash at any moment.

The feeling drifted away instantly when he realized Meliodas was trembling.

It wasn't much, not nearly as much as Zeldris was shaking, but Zeldris could feel it. He could feel his brother starting to unravel and the fear setting in.

The Demon King hasn't said much, and what he had said Zeldris wasn't sure. He could barely hear over the pounding of his own hearts.

Zeldris very clearly heard the Demon King's next words, though.

"I want these disgraces gone in a week."

Zeldris blinked, momentarily confused, before he realized what their father had meant. As he was still confused, but for a whole other reason.

He was giving them a week to make their marks disappear?

Apparently, the Demon King wasn't finished.

"You two will be moved to different sides of the palace, and will begin personal training instead of training together with Chandler and Cusack." The Pacifier demon and the Napping demon looked up from the floor at that, shocked, but they did not make any attempt to protest.

"From this moment on, your interactions will be limited to only when I say it is okay."

"Wait- you can't do that!"

Zeldris really wanted to slap Meliodas, but he didn't dare.

The Demon King's neutral gaze finally shifted into a fierce glare. "I can, and I will. Now get out of my sight." Before the princes could retreat, the Demon King looked to their mentors. "Make sure they don't go together anywhere."

"Yes, my king." The elder demons responded, their voices low.

But Meliodas had already stormed out, Zeldris hot on his heels and then they had broken into a run.

They passed by demons that worked in the palace, passed by generals preparing to inform the Demon King about their troops. They ran past guards that already knew the order to keep them apart but no one made a real attempt to stop them from leaving. Not yet, anyway.

They ran until they reached the portal leaving the demon realm and they hopped through, disabling their magic when they were on the other side. Again they ran until they found their place, a small cave hidden by overgrown trees and the entrance only a small crack they struggled to fit through.

They really didn't have much time. Soon enough Chandler and Cusack would have to take them back and make sure they stayed apart. It was inevitable. They may care for the princes but ultimately the Demon King's commands came first.

They were breathing heavily. Zeldris sank to the floor, back pressed against the wall as he tried to catch his breath. Meliodas slid down beside him, not as winded as his little brother.

Abruptly, Meliodas slammed his head back against the stone wall and cursed the gods. Zeldris winced, sparing a glance and seeing a decently sized crack in the wall where Meliodas had hit.

But that isn't what broke Zeldris, what made him start crying from a whirlpool of emotions.

It was seeing the silent tears slipping down Meliodas' face.

Zeldris covered his mouth in an attempt to stifle the sobs, the tears burning his eyes. He wasn't as quiet as Meliodas when he cried, but it didn't really matter at this point.

Meliodas wrapped his arm around Zeldris, bringing him impossibly closer and burying his face in Zeldris' hair. Zeldris hid his own face in Meliodas' shoulder, gripping to the vest Meliodas wore deathly tight.

It was a little while before either of them spoke. Zeldris shocked himself when words finally fell from his lips.

"I'm scared…"

It was a stupid thing to say, Zeldris knew this. But Meliodas still held him tighter, his whole body shaking as he took a deep breath.

"Me too," Meliodas admitted quietly.

"I don't want to have to avoid you."

Meliodas peeled away from Zeldris, just for a moment, long enough to make eye contact with his little brother. They wore matching expressions, eyes bloodshot and exhaustion eating away at them.

"You won't have to. We'll figure this out, okay?" He pulled Zeldris into another hug. Zeldris curled into the embrace, into the warmth, starting at the mark he knew so well on Meliodas' chest. “We’ll figure this out.”

"How? Father won't-"

"Fuck whatever Father thinks," Meliodas snapped, rubbing small circles into Zeldris' back. He squeezed Zeldris lightly. "I promise we'll figure this out. He can't stop us from acting like brothers."

Zeldris wasn't so sure how true that statement was. But even so, Zeldris still said "Okay," a small, hopeful feeling warming one of his hearts.

[bowtied-pasta]

how about Ben with a platonic soulmate? 🥺 all soulmate aus are so good and i feel like people forget that platonic stuff is just as meaningful (also hi! i love your hcs, this is the first time i’ve sent something in and i’m so nervous 😖) -🌥

Ive kept you waiting long enough, im sorry about the delay. (I am still on hiatus, I just felt bad about keeping you waiting when you said this was your first request and youre nervous) I will pick a soulbond kind and just roll with it since you didnt name a specific one, hope thats cool

You didnt fully understand what it meant when it happened. When your formerly crisp, black words of hope faded to a light grey against your skin.

Your parents had researched for hours, trying to understand what was happening. But they didnt like the results they found. You didnt get to learn what they meant until you were much older. Having been so young, they didnt want to scare you.... or so they said.

The constant moving around, the keeping you from public school, never letting you stay out late or go out without a large group and promising to stay with them at all times. It had all made sense when they told you the consiquences of a faded soulmark.

You were destined to disappear. Without a trace, it seemed. All former occurrences of a faded and grey soul mark, regardless of romantic or platonic bearing, had all ended the same. The person with the greyed mark vanished. 

Wether this was because they went willingly or not, nobody knows. Once a mark turns grey there isnt much you can do to keep track of them. Research is difficult because people with grey marks hide themselves for the exact reason that your parents had worked so hard to hide you for. They didnt want you to dissapear. Not like the others.

But that didnt matter anymore. Here you are, a college freshman living in an apartment all on your own. The money your parents had kept locked away in a bank that you hadnt been privy to, but had been given upon their deaths, allowing you the comfort of knowing that college was more than paid for. The money your job gives you each week going toward the car, your insurance, and the renting for your living space.

You were set for life... or what you had left of it. Your words on your wrist a constant reminder that you were a ticking clock. You didnt know if you would die, but you were certain you would go missing. Just like the rest. The only thing that scared you about it was that you didnt know when.

When decided to come in the form of a game. A video game that you had had your sights on for awhile. Having been wanting to buy it for weeks, but only now allowing yourself the luxury. Knowing you could have used your parents money, but wanting to earn it your own way.

Your hand had been reaching for the case for the game, the sleeve of your hoodie covering your greyed out mark, only for another hand to reach for the same case at the same time. Your finger tips touching slightly before you both flinch back in shock.

Your gaze shoots toward the man that had been reaching for the game, your eyes locking as you stutter out an apology. Your people skills being lackluster due to your upbringing. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. You can have it if you want it, I can wait a little longer.”

You see the mans eyes widden as you speak, his eyes darting down toward his arm quickly, before he grabs the game and ask you such a simple question, yet it makes your blood run cold. “What say you we go back to your place and play it together, best friend?”

You stiffen as you shuffle slightly backwards. Not expecting this to have ever happened. Your words are grey. Grey. This cant be happening. You were supposed to disappear. You couldnt do that to your soulmate. Platonic or not.

“Um... I dont think...” you hastily walk backwards to the front of the store. He matches pace with you, grabbing your arm to keep you from moving further. The store was unfortunately empty of other patrons, allowing this to happen without causing a scene. 

“I know, theyre grey right? I can explain why, but its not a topic for public conversation. Its best we speak in private. So we can do this at your place, or mine. But trust me... you’ll like it better at yours.”

You glace around quickly before you settle your gaze on him. Eyes locking as you begin to calm down. He was your soulmate. He was safe. Right? He wouldnt hurt you. He cant possibly be the reason you disappear. No... you cant let him get attached. It would only hurt him.

“No. We cant. I dont want you to get hurt. Yes, my words are grey. And.... and that means I’m going to disappear. I know I dont know you, at all, but I dont want you to get hurt when I vanish and youve become attached. I dont want that for you.” You look down, averting your eyes from his gaze. Your vision had blurred as you spoke, tears filling your eyes as you tried to get him to understand. You couldnt allow yourself the pain.

You feel his hand cup your face and wipe away your tears. “Hey, breath for me okay? Your not losing me that easily. Believe me now or later, friend, youre stuck with me.”

[hauntedbasementqueen]

TVD: Delena vs. Stelena

So yes, I am a Delena shipper. And yes, this topic is a little old. But so far I have not found anything online that defends Delena for the reasons I ship them, so I am going to write this anyways.

This is three pages long, so be prepared.

Spoiler warning ahead.

I am not going to be defending against accusations, nor am I going to be using factors such as chemistry or attractiveness, although in my opinion both are in favor of Delena. This is only talking about the characters and how Damon, Stefan, and Elena all benefited from Delena being endgame, as well as why I think it was the best choice for the show.

From a screenwriting perspective, Stelena was a good starting relationship for the show. It had intrigue, and some passion, and, most importantly, it was steady enough to give the watchers time to get to know the characters. Stefan was unambiguously the good guy, despite being a vampire, and in the first few seasons the show had not built up enough loyalty to the characters to risk putting the main character with someone as morally grey as Damon.

In terms of the characters themselves, Stelena was also a good starting point for Elena after her parents’ deaths. She was hopeless, and what she needed was a constant, kind presence in her life who had just enough danger and mystery to draw her interest. Stefan gave that to her. For the first few years after her parents death, Elena couldn’t deal with the demands of a relationship with Damon (who, incidentally, had a lot of growing up to do as well). She needed Stefan, who could carry a lot of their relationship himself, rather than her having to take care of or monitor him, giving Elena time to heal and navigate this new supernatural world. And their relationship was… charming. The love there was real (although in my opinion, it was more platonic than romantic-- more on that later), and there was certainly enough drama to keep us engaged. For the beginning of the show, Stelena was good.

Around season three, however, is where it started to sour (and no, I am not talking about the Ripper or any of the other plot devices, only characterization). In the first two seasons, most of the Stelena drama was about them developing their relationship. Elena was figuring out who Stefan was and discovering his secrets. After season three, however, the showriters started to run out of ideas. Stefan’s past had been revealed. There was more to reveal about Stefan, of course, but all of the major things that would impact his relationship with Elena had been used. The ripper storyline had been done. Pretty much any other drama would seem artificial and out of character. Why? Because Stefan and Elena were both such stubbornly loyal people that any sort of betrayal on either of their parts would only seem in character if it relied on miscommunication, which is a subpar plot point at best. In addition, Stefan and Elena had a steady, quiet sort of love rather than the explosive type that viewers tend to want. To put it simply, Stefan and Elena’s relationship was becoming boring. Changing it up was in the best interest for the show.

In terms of characterization, Stelena also needed to end around season three. Elena was mostly healed from her parents’ deaths. She was headstrong, always running into danger, and would do anything to save the people she loved. More than anything, she was self-sacrificing, to the point where that was perhaps her biggest flaw. Stefan was the exact same as her. And that’s why in the beginning, when the stakes were lower, their relationship worked-- they understood each other. But as the stakes got higher each season and every decision was life or death, Elena could not be with someone who was just as self-sacrificing as her, for her own physical health. Stefan loved Elena. And yet he was the kind of person who would be a martyr and give her up, if that’s what she wanted (and he does when she becomes a vampire, saving Matt instead of her). This seems good on paper- until you consider that Elena is so self-sacrificing that oftentimes she tries to turn herself in before she considers all other options. And Stefan is so selfless and so respecting that he doesn’t stop her. 

Take the part about Elena becoming a vampire, for example. Yes, in the end it turned out fine and Matt and Elena were both saved. But Stefan didn’t know that Elena had vampire blood in her system. If she hadn’t, she would be dead. The choice was clearly between Elena and Matt- one of them was going to die. Elena wanted Stefan to choose Matt, so he did (after wasting several idiotic seconds arguing about it, but I digress). If it weren’t for luck, Elena would be dead, and honestly it would have been Stefan’s fault more than anything else. He knows Elena is incredibly, stubbornly self-sacrificing. He should have saved the life of the girl he loves first and then gone back to save her friend, no question. Instead he let Elena die because he was too much of a martyr. Yes, he did regret it later, but I believe that he would probably do it again in a similar situation-- their characters are just too selfless.

Enter Damon. If Damon is anything, it’s selfish. As the seasons go on, he becomes a better person, but when it comes to Elena, it is always, always, whatever is best for Elena first. And that is exactly what Elena needs. She’s grieved for her parents. She can stand on her own now. She doesn’t need someone to be kind, and to prop her up like Stefan did. What she needs is someone who can match her step for step and who can and will stop her when she goes on one of her self-sacrificing rampages (yes, I like Elena too, but you have to admit this is one of her flaws). Damon does that. He gives her the love, and the compassion, but he also gives her the strength of will and the selfishness that counterbalances her own selflessness. Not to mention as Elena grows on the show and becomes more confident, her character grows into more of an adventurous, witty character rather than the damsel in distress type she was in season one. The new Elena fits better with Damon’s adventurous and witty streak than with Stefan’s more steady, dry nature. 

Damon and Elena is also, in my opinion, far more interesting to watch than Stelena, and I think most people would agree. They are more passionate, both in love and in anger, and I personally like their banter far better. They have far more opportunities for angst and plot points, being more different than each other and both of them having grown to be similarly volatile (Damon becoming less volatile, Elena becoming more so). Thus, Delena made the show more interesting without having to force outstandingly interesting plot points or side relationships.

Looking at the show as a whole, I see Stelena as a better platonic relationship, and Delena as a better romantic relationship. Ian Somerhalder and Nina Dobrev have incredible chemistry, no doubt about that (and Pual and Nina have very little-- fight me on that), but in terms of the characters themselves it also makes more sense for Stelena to be platonic. Even when they were together, it reminded me more of a best friend relationship, especially in season two. They loved each other, and they were compassionate, but they were not passionate. There was no real spark between them, because they were too similar. Ideally, partners should have many of the same interests, but they should also complement each other. Best friends, meanwhile, are usually very similar. They don’t complement each other-- they are each other. The way that Damon complements Elena makes him a better romantic partner, while Stefan is an excellent friend to Elena due to their similarities. 

Now that I have covered how Damon and Elena are better off together, I’m going to briefly go over the Caroline aspect of Stefan’s character arc.

From the show’s perspective, putting Stefan with Caroline made the show a million times better. They complement each other, just as Damon and Elena do. Both of them are kind and optimistic, but Caroline is single-minded and driven, while Stefan is more calm. Caroline gives Stefan’s life excitement, and Stefan gives Caroline’s life steadiness. Not to mention from a showrunning perspective, they have excellent banter. I was starting to grow bored with Stefan until he got with Caroline. Caroline’s over the top, wordy dialogue matches really well with Stefan’s more dry, monosyllabic tendencies. 

So to conclude, while Stelena was good at the beginning of the show, in the end Delena was better for all of the characters. And Stefan is not the cheated victim, watching the love of his life with his brother. He found his own epic love. Those who support Stelena, in my opinion, are just pining for the past. Move on.

[notalwaysthevillian]

Cancelled Flights Can Lead to Golden Opportunities

@sanderssidescelebrations

Pairing: Platonic Logicality, Romantic Logince

Prompt: Stuck in the Airport on Christmas Eve

Warnings: Kissing

“What do you mean my flight is cancelled?” Frustrated, Logan ran a hand through his hair, no doubt making it stand straight up. “It appeared to be fine half an hour ago.”

“I’m sorry, sir.” The poor employee at the help desk gestured to the board behind him. “Most of our flights to the midwest have been cancelled. There’s a bunch of winter storms in the area, it’s not safe for our planes to land. If you head to the next counter, we can get your flight rescheduled and see about getting you a hotel room.”

Even though he was irritated, Logan could understand he wouldn’t be in the air tonight. Giving the worker a nod, he exited the line, immediately replaced with a screaming woman and her three kids.

He followed the instructions, getting into the next line. It seemed as though he would be stuck waiting in lines all night as well.

Pulling out his phone, he dialed his brother’s number.

“Hello?”

“Patton, unfortunately my flight has been cancelled. I won’t be making it in tonight.” Logan spoke in hushed tones, doing his best to not irritate those around him. “I apologize.”

“That’s no good, but as long as you aren’t flying in bad weather I can handle it. We have a room all set up for you whenever you get here.”

Smiling to himself, Logan nodded. “Thank you, Pat. I’ll text you when I have information about my new flight.”

“Okay! Stay safe. Love you!”

“Love you too.” When he hung up the phone, Logan glanced up to see a rather attractive man watching him. “Can I help you?”

The man startled, a small blush covering his cheeks. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. I just...you sounded so happy, even in an airport full of raging moms.”

“My brother has that effect on people.” Logan stuck his hand out. “Logan Sanders.”

“Roman Gold.” The man shook his hand once before letting go. “I take it we’re stuck in the same boat? Stranded in the airport on Christmas Eve?”

“It seems so.”

Roman grinned at him and patted his bag. “Once we’re all squared up here, what do you say to a game of poker?”

“Oh, you’re on.”

Roman went through the line first, waiting for Logan when he was finished. The two of them found that they were on the same flight, though Roman was in first class while Logan was in coach.

“I can see if they’ll bump you up.” Roman offered before they headed to their gate area.

Logan shook his head. “It’s fine, it’s only a three hour flight. Not a big deal.”

“Fair enough.”

The two of them went through security, finding themselves as much of a secluded corner as they could in such a packed airport. The few people around were mostly settling down to sleep.

“Alright, here’s the rules.” Roman pulled out a deck of cards and began shuffling. “Losing hand has to give the other person a fact about themselves. No lying, though I wouldn’t know if you did.”

“I won’t lie.”

“Good.”

Throwing Logan a wink, Roman did some fancy shuffling moves before dealing out the cards rapid fire. Logan stared at him with wide eyes, more than a little impressed. “Don’t be so shocked, Logan. A free fact about me: I work in a casino.”

The two of them spent the next two hours playing poker, taking care to be mostly quiet.

Logan learned quite a lot about the man in front of him.  

Roman worked in a casino, mostly as a dealer but sometimes as security when they were in a tight spot. 

He usually got a free upgrade to first class due to his job, and could sometimes take friends with him.

When he was in college for his business degree, he’d paid off his loans by being a model for the art department.

“Sometimes it required me to be naked, but when you have a body like mine, you don’t care.” He’d explained, giving Logan a seemingly innocent smile.

This sentence had forced Logan to picture Roman naked, and he assumed it was a sight to see.

Of course, Roman learned a lot about Logan in return. He’d heard about how Logan had assisted Patton in finding a child to adopt, which lead to him being Uncle Logan to a toddler named Virgil. He heard about Logan’s job as a professor, which didn’t pay as much but was more fulfilling than his job as a research assistant. And when Logan couldn’t think of anything, he’d asked Logan about his relationship status.

“Recently single.” Was all he said, refusing to elaborate on his harrowing breakup.

“That’s a shame.”

Blood rushed to Logan’s cheeks. “What?”

“A man as attractive as you should have men fighting over him.” Roman grazed his fingers over Logan’s as he packed up the cards.

As it grew later, the two of them found a more comfortable position in the chairs to sleep. Logan passed out rather quickly, sleeping soundly through the night.

When he woke up, he realized why. At some point, he’d shifted, using Roman’s shoulder as a pillow. Roman smiled down at him as Logan figured this out and sat straight up.

“I apologize -”

Roman waved a hand, cutting him off. “No need. Hope I was a comfy pillow.”

“Extremely.”

Checking his watch, Logan was surprised to find they had only a few minutes before boarding. “Roman, may I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

Logan pulled his phone out. “Can I, um...I’d like to contact you again.”

Roman plucked the phone out of his hand, plugging in his number, before handing it back over. “Text me anytime.”

A few minutes later, first class was called to board. Roman gave Logan a wave before disappearing down the tunnel.

Logan didn’t think he’d be seeing Roman again, even though they really hit it off. Doing his best to ignore the stinging feeling in his chest, he nodded along as Patton gushed about how glad he was that the flights had been able to take off today. Virgil nodded in the backseat, doing his best to remove his shoe as he did so.

Logan was mostly present for the day, but Roman’s smile lingered in the back of his brain. He couldn’t help but wonder where Roman had ended up today. They’d been on the same flight, but there was no way they were in the same city.

The doorbell rang just as the sun started to set. Patton looked confused, but headed to answer it regardless.

“Lo! Someone’s here for you!”

Logan headed for the door, standing shock still when he saw Roman in the doorway.

“I know this is crazy,” he said, coming in the house and grabbing Logan’s hands, “but my Christmas was happening across the street. I saw you outside helping Virgil build a snowman and I’ve spent the last hour gathering the courage to come over here and ask you to be my boyfriend.”

Even though his brain was short circuiting, Logan managed a nod.

“Can I kiss you?”

Another nod.

The story of their first meeting was one that they fondly retold at their wedding three years later.

[celestial-demonic-pacts]

hii 4, 11, 19, 33, 37, 44 !!

((uwu hi, i really went fanfic on this one)) 4 - Has your character ever witnessed something that fundamentally changed them? If so, does anyone else know?

Logan hadn’t witnessed it first hand but they had seen the aftermath of the Fall. They saw how things changed after the great war. It was strange to say the least to see how easily people turned and how it was taboo to speak their names or ask anything about them. The Realm learned to heal from it and changed to make sure something like that would never happen again, the higher up archangels got even stricter. For the first few years life was rough especially as Logan grew up and soon was seen to have archangel potential, another thing that has changed them.  Ace’s most fundamental change was one that started the snowball of the worst memory. The day Bast took joined the group of unwanted or abandoned demons, Ace was in as a child. That demon is what led to the shy always trying to hide demon that Ace starts out as, until you gain their trust. You would think it would be being thrown from their mother, but Ace can’t remember the events much just reaching out for silky black long hair. Yet the most defining thing was being the subject of such anger and hate for so long from Bast that turned Ace against themself and is what made it hard for the demon to trust and to repress so much.

11 - In what situation was your character the most afraid they’ve ever been?

Logan doesn’t scare easily, it takes a lot to frazzle the angel. Yet there is one person that scares her, Michael. Now normally the archangel doesn’t bother her, they could care less other than making sure they follow orders. Yet as they spend more time in the Devildom and getting closer to the brothers, Logan beings to stray from their orders. She hesitates more with weekly updates to Michael. The lies don’t begin until she’s smitten with Lucifer. Fear ran threw he veins when she began to get feelings, but giving into them and entering a relationship.. She knew what she was doing and what she wanted publicly getting into the relationship, but still deep down fear began to grip at her heart. She was doing something horrible in Celestial eyes. Demon’s were scum and not to be trusted, yet here they were giving their heart willingly to one, and not just any demon Lucifer himself. While they didn’t let it bother them, living in the fact that they were with their lover and family now. They don’t keep in touch with Michael as much, getting hard to lie and cover things up.  Real fear runs through them when Michael shows up unannounced. They all had been with Diavolo for dinner, the demon lord insisted on it as his treat. So they went because they got the invite and Lucifer wasn’t going to say no to it. Gathering with the demons to being pulled aside as Barbatos tells them Michael is here for them, waiting in Diavolo’s office, made her freeze. She stopped breathing and broke the glass they were holding in their hand. Logan quickly fled towards the office, ignoring their name being called as they removed small pieces of glass from their hand as Logan went.  Heading into the office they were silent and their head was down, their wings coming out as angels always had to have their wings out in the Celestial Realm it was a sign of respect among archangels when visiting to show your wings. Logan coudln’t think straight only think of how much had Michael seen as he came down. Did he see how close she was standing? That her arm was around his? How she looked at him like he was the sun? Thoughts ran through her brain that she didn’t notice Michael yelling their name. Coming back to reality they jumped as Michael slammed the desk. “Are you even listening? Have you gone soft while being here? Logan get it together. You’ve been slacking and that isn’t going to fly. You’re here at his castle. Get closer to him and find out his secrets. I don’t care what you have to do, have to offer. I want you to know what Diavolo is thinking!” Michael yelled at them. Logan could only nod as the archangel sighed. “C’mon, be a good girl and get this mission over with so you can come home and get away from this filth.”  “Yes, sir. I understand.” Logan’s voice was small, as they looked up at him. Eyes said determined but on the inside they were shaking. They fucked up and this could have been prevented. They gave up on their mission long ago but now they had to get back to it. They would have to do what Michael wanted. “I’ll be waiting to here from you tonight.” Michael said before a flash of light filled the room and he was gone, back to the Celestial Realm.  Logan dropped to their knees, their wings coming to wrap around them. They let themself process the emotions that were running through them. Michael didn’t know anything. They were fine, no one knew. And the angels that did know would never tell. They’d never say a word. It took the angel a moment before collecting themself and heading back out. The explanation was awkward and forced, something they made up on the fly. Throughout the whole thing they forget about their injured hand, letting themself be doted on and taken care of. 

What Logan didn’t know is that night everything would come crumbling down. Ace might be a bit of a scary cat yet nothing comes close to their darkest moment. Its a memory that is burned into their mind, one that brought on frequent nightmares and now just every so often it will pop up. 

Getting beat up was something Ace was used to, as in their early teens they were used as one often enough. Bast would be angry and Ace was his favorite to hate so Ace got used to getting thrown around a little. Yet being beaten half to death that’s different. All Ace did was stick up for a younger demon, and they got their head bashed onto the hard ground below them. They went under punch after punch, kicks and slams. They felt bones being broken and things popping wrong. They struggled against it trying to stop it yet were no match in strength. They had to suffer every blow against them, coughing and spitting up blood multiple times. Their blood was everywhere on their face, their clothes, the ground, his fists. Ace remember shivering from pain, wincing at how their body moved, as they were thrown against a rock and left there. They choked on their blood until their vision faded to black. Ace figured this is what death feels like, pain and darkness.  That was when they were most afraid, being left alone with their blurring and fading vision. Bast hovering over them and beating them to death also plays into it but that their death would’ve gone uncared about and unnoticed also freaked them out. Ace is grateful to have been found and that it didn’t end that way but in the back of their head the thought plays, that they would’ve been alone and it wouldn’t have bothered anyone if they were gone..

19 - What is your character’s biggest relationship flaw? Has this flaw destroyed relationships for them before?

Logan’s walls. They are slow to trust and don’t open up easily. It has made a lot of people stop getting close to the angel and Logan doesn’t let it bother her.

Ace’s is similar to Logan but its more that they don’t let anyone close and are extremely shy with new people. They don’t give people a chance to even introduce themselves half the time.

33 - In the face of criticism, is your character defensive, self-deprecating, or willing to improve?

Logan is defensive at first, how dare you! They are used to high praises and getting things perfect. Yet once they overcome that they are willing to improve. The angel can be self-deprecating but only when they are criticizing themself, which is a lot but they try to keep it hidden.

Ace just nods and doesn’t let it bother them. They don’t really care. They will improve if its someone they care about telling them and something major, but mostly they just enjoy life not caring about others.

37 - Is your character more concerned with defending their honor, or protecting their status?

Logan falls under the sin of Pride. They hold themselves to very high standards, and higher than most others. They would protect their status. Honor does tie into it as well but its why they are hesitant about some things, and care so much about what Michael would think.

Ace wouldn’t be concerned with either. They only worry about what their family thinks about them and they know its of high value, so they don’t care about status or honor. They are a lower demon living with the highest of high, but they don’t care. They just see family and that’s all that matters to them.

44 - How easy or difficult is it for your character to say “I love you?” Can they say it without meaning it? Logan and “I love you” are two things that don’t mesh well together. A platonic one is way easier to get out of them. Logan is very hard to get to open up and let you be close, so it takes a while for them to feel safe but once they do the words come fast. For the romantic version, it takes longer and with patience they will say the words. They don’t trust themselves to  believe their feelings so they hold back, not wanting to get hurt again. So the words come slowly but once they leave her lips for the first time and its returned, the words are said constantly. Ace takes a little time to be able to say it but once they turn you they say it until the words lose all meaning. They always say it to the brothers, since they feel like one of them basically the only one that is different is Lucifer as he’s sorta the father figure, but it’s easily tacked on. For a romantic “I love you” Ace wouldn’t realize the change but how they say it would be different. 

[alkhale]

I LOVE MAHINA PLEASE GIMME SOME RANDOM FACTS ABOUT HER LIKE HOW TALL WAS SHE FAVORITE LEAST FAVORITE FOOD WAS SHE AFRAID OF INSTECTS DID SHE LIKE FLUFFY MIHAWK HAT DID SHE PLAN ON HAVING KIDS BEFORE HER DEAL WITH MANU HOW MANY SWORDS DID SHE MAKE DOES SHE LIKE COLD WEATHER OR DOES SHE HAS COLD FEET BIG SPOON OR LITTLE SPOON DID MIHAWK AND HER HAD A ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIP OR PLATONIC IF SHE GOT TO LIVE WHAT WOULD HER GREATEST SWORD LOOK LIKE DID SHE HAVE A FAVORITE COLOR thanks and sorry ilovya!

HAHAHAHAHA I LOVE THIS MAHINA LOVE, I LOVE HER AND MANU TOO OKAY THANK YOU FOR LOVING THEM

I know sometimes stories that get too bogged down with OCs can turn some people away, but I’m really happy and thankful and GLAD you guys liked them so much ;-;

(I have to be wary of spoilers, but here you go!)

Mahina

- Her favorite food was grilled seafood, specifically the best kinds you could eat skewered. Her least favorite is anything too sweet. She likes kalo berries more than kiionohi because they have a more subtle favor and nutrients.

- Insects don’t bother her! Mahina was always the kind of woman who could shove her hands into a hole in the ground to find good ores and pull them out covered in worms and creepy-crawlers but she just brushed them off. 

- She was particularly fond of the birds and the horses that were native to Artopoki. The cremellos and palaminos that live there are wild horses, but many are painted with different coming of age markings because from time to time, a Pokian will live beside the herd and slowly try to form a bond with one horse, build a working relationship with it and in a sense, “ask” it for services for however long before releasing it back into the wild. It was customary to paint your marking somewhere on the horse to show you owed it a life and debt. (The horses with more markings are especially proud because they feel they’ve done a good service)

- She loved the flowers of Artopoki, especially the sea lotuses. (They grow in small, still lulls of seawater along the island coast or on sandy shores) They tended to grow white but could inherit the color of something around them. 

- They were her favorite flower to carve into her markings and Mau’s original guard was in the shape of one until she changed it to a star shaped guard when she planned to give it to Hoku. 

- Her mother passed away giving birth to her and her father was a man of the forge who worked himself to death and drank a lot, he never hurt her though or treated her particularly bad, they just were never very close. Mahina grew up around fire and brimstone and the heat of metal, and she was more of an apprentice to him than a daughter. He did leave her with some valuable skills and parting words she kept with her.

- She and Manu are childhood friends, they’ve known each other since birth. She thinks Manu’s drawings are always the best.

- Manu’s brother wanted to marry her once, she told him if he could ever kill her in a sword fight she’d do it. (He never could.)

- Many Pokians advise against the practice/habit but it wasn’t uncommon for rowdier, wilder Pokians to bet a life on the sake of something. Mahina was one of the rowdier ones.

- “If that sword breaks on you, you can cut me down.”

- Mahina was considered one the greatest weapon crafters Artopoki had seen in a long time. Her weapons were classes and grades above others but specifically her swords. They thought her father taught her some kind of skill, but Mahina says, “The forge and the metal were the first voices I ever heard.”

- She developed her own coating technique. Every Pokian who coats uses different mixtures based on their blood they make themselves, but hers were on another level.

- Women of Artopoki tend to lean toward crafting and the forge while the men were actually often more inclined to be artists, both work places and schools were always fairly even, but there tended to be a bit more of the other respectively. 

- Mahina was the type of Pokian to have more feline features (sharper canines, very agile movements and balance, the gold in her eyes tended to be an almost feline-like slit) some Pokians tended to inherit that trait but they’re not really sure of reasons but they have speculative sayings like, “More of the goddess in that one.” or “You’ve got her touch.”

- She loves Mihawk’s hat. Originally it didn’t come with the plume and she found it and felt like it really completed the look. He never said no.

- The cross-knife was one of the first things she ever forged for Mihawk, he wore it with him always and preferred not to use it. When Mahina had to return to Artopoki, he gave it back to her to hold onto and when they met again, she gave it back to him.

- She and Mihawk traveled together for many years while both building names for themselves, they had to find funds to make their travels around and often set up shop like the scene with her and Tsuru where Mahina would sell weapons and swords and Mihawk would demonstrate how well they cut.

- They’ve traveled to many places, I wonder where?

- Mahina is a few years older than Mihawk!

- Was it romantic or platonic? Mmm, this question has been asked many times and I’ll answer like always by not really answering--they were very close and each other’s greatest friends, they trusted each other more than anyone else. Partners through and through.

- Mahina never really thought about having kids but she didn’t mind the idea, her swords were always her children first.

- Mahina is terrible with cold weather but Manu always seemed to move just fine in it.

- How many swords? Hahahaha I wonder...

- I guess she’s the big spoon? She always fell asleep with her head against her swords and the swords in her arms.

- Mahina was the more easy-going parent. Manu was usually the stricter one between the two and more ferocious and protective, Mahina’s the kinda mom that would let her four-year-old hold her swords and sit next to her while she sharpened them.

- Her favorite color is any shade of metal.

- She was never sure what the greatest sword would ever look like, she figured she’d know when the time came for her to make it, but she did know what she wanted to name it and the epithet she wanted it to carve and cut for itself.

- She wanted to name it Hoku. A sword that could cut through stars.

[anotherkpopvictim]

When Insecurities Get the Best of You (We’ll Be There) - Namjoon X BTS Littlespace Drabble

(Gif Source: jinseas)

“anonymous asked: Hiii my favorite trope is joonie being insecure but ot6 comforting him and loving him hbnskskh i feel like i haven't read one of these in a while it'd be great if u wrote smth like that 👉🏼👈🏼”

A/N: Thank you so much for requesting this! I really liked the idea, and my last little!joon X caregiver!bts fic I wrote for Namjoon’s birthday was really well-liked so obviously others want to see this relationship again :)

So here it is! Enjoy!

Relationship: Little!Namjoon X Caregiver!BTS

Rating: G

Words: 4146

Hurt/comfort, fluff

PLEASE NOTE:  This fic is a collection of short moments over the years when Namjoon felt insecure about himself and the others were there for him. Some moments were based on actual events that happened in real life, while others were completely made up. If it really happened, I will link the moment I based it on.

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As the leader of Bangtan, Namjoon was no stranger to being the unfortunate target of the brunt of embarrassment. He had taken a “class” of sorts back in the day, where he was taught exactly what it meant to be a leader. One of the main points that Namjoon spent a lot of time working on, was that a leader needed to be able to take charge when any public conflicts or awkwardness overwhelms the atmosphere of any concert, interview, or award speech. BTS had gone through their fair share of public humiliation, and it was Namjoon’s job to keep things stable and calm during those times.

Fortunately, Namjoon was really, really good at this. He’d been the one to keep Yoongi from punching that asshole B-Free in the face during that one interview near the beginning of their career that none of them would ever forget. He was the one that could seamlessly take over when any of the members got choked up at a particularly invasive question.

Namjoon was also extremely good at hiding the complicated slow burn that was the members’ romantic relationship.

It started out way back in the day with himself and Yoongi, who were both wound up from the frustrations of trainee life and frankly just horny teenagers. What began as helping each other get off every now and then developed into something more romantic as Hoseok, Jungkook and Seokjin were added to the group line up.

Then Namjoon and Yoongi became Namjoon and Yoongi and Seokjin and then as debut finally rolled around, Hoseok joined in as well. Hyung line’s relationship was confusing for a few years as they figured out the dynamics within it.

BTS’ debut also brought about the start of maknae line’s romantic relationship. The three youngest had been close since the day they’d met, but it remained platonic until the night of their debut stage, where the high of emotions made them braver and they shared tender kisses and cuddles between themselves.

Then the two separate relationships (hyung line and maknae line) began to blend together until it was one unit.

Throughout all of the developments of their relationship and even after, Namjoon constantly had to keep an eye on everyone when cameras were rolling. It was Taehyung and Jungkook that had the most difficult time holding back the lingering touches and stares and it hurt the leader that he needed to separate them so much, but it was necessary.

So, yes, Namjoon was an amazing leader, and though it wasn’t easy, he was able to put his own emotions on the back burner for his group - at least, most of the time.

Because he was human and he was far from perfect, he too had those moments where things were too overwhelming for him as well. The company could forget that sometimes, but never his members. His members were always there for him.

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

2013 (based on this moment at 1:05)

The first time Namjoon really felt incapable of handling a situation was shortly after their debut. Coincidentally, this was also the first time Namjoon ever fell into littlespace.

BTS was lucky enough to be able to perform not only the title track of their second album but also the special concept trailer performance that fans loved so much.

It started out great, the hype of the screaming crowd giving them all the confidence in their performing. It got to the point in the choreography where the back-up dancers helped pull off their outer shirts, leaving them all in white sleeveless shirts. They’d all rehearsed it a million times, but that, unfortunately, didn’t mean that it was seamless every time.

It took a moment for Namjoon to realize that both of his shirts had accidentally been ripped completely from his body, leaving his torso on display for all the people in the audience and millions through the television to see.

A numbing panic like no other went over Namjoon like a wave, his face draining of all blood beneath the bit of BB cream he had on. Then, like flicking a switch, his professional side that had been ingrained into his brain took over.

He finished off the performance while holding his shirt feebly against his exposed chest. Namjoon didn’t dare to look into the audiences’ eyes as he bowed and hurried from the stage.

The next few moments were a blur, but suddenly Namjoon found himself in their dressing room bathroom, leaning back against the closed and locked door. His breathing was coming harshly and his heartbeat was pounding in his ears so much that he could barely hear the knocking on the door behind him.

“Joonie,” came Seokjin’s comforting voice from the other side, soft and soothing. “Joonie, open the door for me, love.”

But Namjoon couldn’t. How could he open the door and reveal his weak state to the rest of his band members when he was supposed to be their fearless leader?

“Yoongi’s taken the maknaes and left for home early, so it’s just us now,” Hoseok said, making the leader aware of his presence outside the door as well. “Please, Namjoon-ah, let us in.”

With sudden desperation for comfort that he couldn’t explain, Namjoon got up and unlocked the door shakily. Jin and Hoseok came in and immediately pulled him into a tight embrace.

Namjoon felt overwhelmed with emotions - embarrassment and panic and shame being the most prominent. “H-Hyungs-” he choked out.

“Let it go, baby,” Jin encouraged, kissing the side of his head, “I know you want to cry and it’s not good to keep that all bottled up inside.”

“We’re right here, okay?” Hoseok added.

The confirmation of their support was enough for Namjoon to listen. He let the tears that he had been keeping at bay slip from his eyes and make trails down his cheeks. He heaved out a sob that was followed by another and another.

His two hyungs were there for him through his whole breakdown, holding him in their arms and whispering words of comfort into his ears.

“T-They all saw me,” Namjoon choked out, “They all saw my body. I didn’t want anyone to see me like that.”

“We know, love,” Hoseok replied, rubbing his hand soothingly up and down the leader’s arm. “It was an accident and we know it hurt you, baby.”

“J-Joonie embarrassed! Joonie don’t want fans to see his ugly tummy.”

The sudden change in the leader’s tone and his switch to speaking in third person gave his two hyungs pause for a moment and they shared a look of confusion between the two of them. Namjoon had never acted so...childish before.

Both of their minds were running a mile a minute, trying to register and adapt to this new situation.

“Namjoon-ah,” the eldest began slowly, pulling away from the other enough that he could look him in the eye, “You don’t have an ugly tummy, love. Your tummy is super cute.”

The younger glanced up timidly and looked at them with glossy eyes. “R-Really?”

Jin and Hoseok shared another look before the older returned his attention to Namjoon. Seokjin smiled gently, “Of course, Joon-ah.”

The leader slowly sat up a bit, “E-Even if Joonie doesn’t have abs?”

“Even if you don’t have abs,” Hoseok confirmed, his expression soft and fond. “Even if your skin was purple, even if you had an extra nose.”

That elicited a soft giggle out of the leader, quiet but there.

Hoseok and Seokjin felt unimaginable relief. It was hard to see their leader, their friend, their boyfriend, hurting so much.

Namjoon tossed his arms around both of their shoulders, “T-Thank you, hyungies.”

“Of course, baby.” Jin and Hoseok replied simultaneously before smiling at each other.

“Jinnie-hyungie?” Namjoon began rubbing at his drooping eyes with a fist, his lower lip pouting out cutely. “Tired.”

“Go ahead and sleep, love,” Seokjin said, adjusting Namjoon so the younger could rest his head on his shoulder. “We’ll carry you home, okay?”

“M’kay.”

Just as Hoseok finished closing all of their bags and slinging them over his shoulder, Jin appeared back in the dressing room from the bathroom with Namjoon curled around him like a koala. He looked much better than an hour ago as the oldest had gently cleaned the tears from his cheeks.

The two shared another smile and began making their way to the car waiting for them outside.

The car ride itself was uneventful other than the fond glances their manager gave them in the rearview mirror. Namjoon had shifted into Hoseok’s lap in the backseat and was attempting to curl up in a ball.

Once they’d returned to the dorm and Namjoon was tucked comfortably under the covers of his bunk bed, Hoseok and Jin snuck out from their shared bedroom and sat down together in the living room.

“So...” Hoseok began quietly, “Namjoon’s a little.”

“Namjoon’s a little,” Jin confirmed, “Can’t say I saw that one coming.”

Hoseok hummed in agreement, “This must have been the first time it happened because we both know Namjoon wouldn’t be able to keep something like this from us.”

I think so too,” Jin said, biting his lip in thought. “Should we tell the others?”

“We need to talk to Namjoon once he’s out of his headspace, I think it should be his choice.”

“Alright, but Hoseok?” the lead dancer locked eyes with his hyung’s fierce ones, “No matter what happens, we need to show Namjoon how much we love him, whether he’s in littlespace or not.”

Hoseok nodded firmly, “Always.”

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

2015

The leader of Bangtan had broken countless things over the years, whether it be objects or bones, having inherited his clumsiness from his mother. Meaningless things somehow breaking into pieces once his hands touched it, they were easier to get over, but sometimes Namjoon would cause damage to something important and he would have the overwhelming feeling of embarrassment take over him.

One such time was when Namjoon was with Yoongi in his studio, working hard on some songs that they hoped would be approved by their boss for the next album. Yoongi excused himself to go to the bathroom after having been staring at the computer screen for a good five hours.

Namjoon himself was fighting sleep, his eyes closing of their own accord and his head falling forward. He had a cup of hot coffee clutched in his hands (his fourth or fifth that night) that wasn’t really doing all that much to keep him awake anymore.

As he nodded off once more, his grip on the coffee unintentionally loosened. He felt the paper cup slip from his hands and his eyes shot open just in time to see it hit the top of the desk. The lid popped off and steaming coffee went flying everywhere, most notably all over a bunch of cords just to the side of Yoongi’s computer.

He heard a couple sizzling and popping sounds and then Namjoon watched in horror as Yoongi’s computer screen went black.

“No,” he whispered, suddenly much more awake than he was just a minute before. “No, no, no!” his voice got louder as his panic grew.

“Joon-ah?”

Namjoon’s head snapped towards the studio door, where Yoongi was standing, looking on with shock at the scene before him.

“I-I...I didn’t mean...”

Yoongi saw his friend’s slip into littlespace moments before it happened. He was at Namjoon’s side and pulling him into a comforting hug in a flash.

“It’s okay, Joonie,” he insisted, his voice soft. “It was an accident, baby. It’s okay.”

“B-But it’s gone! All hyungie’s hard work. Joonie so sorry.”

“I know you are, sweetheart,” Yoongi pulled back so he could look the younger in the eyes. “Accidents happen sometimes. Luckily, I backed up all my work last night, so I probably only lost what we worked on today.”

That didn’t really make Namjoon feel any better. In fact, it only made the guilt in his heart even heavier. The little’s eyes widened, “B-But hyungie has been working for long time! L-Like eight hours! Joonie made hyungie lose so much!” Namjoon’s shoulders sagged and he pouted down at the ground. “Joonie stupid. Joonie clumsy.”

“Hey now,” Yoongi tapped under Namjoon’s chin to get him to look at him again, “Don’t be calling yourself mean things. You’re not stupid, baby. A little clumsy maybe, but your clumsiness is cute.”

The younger perked up a bit, “Joonie cute?”

The cold-faced rapper let out a fond laugh, his eyes squinting shut for a moment as a gummy smile appeared on his face. “Yes, baby,” he replied through chuckles, “You’re the absolute cutest little one I’ve ever seen, yeah?” he leaned in a bit, “But don’t tell Jiminie that, okay? He’ll get jealous.”

The little still had tears in his eyes, but they had stopped falling. Namjoon let out a giggle, his adorable dimples that Yoongi loved so much showing themselves.

So, of course, no one could blame Yoongi when he poked at one of those dimples, which somehow led to a tickle fight on the couch, followed by a much-needed nap.

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2016

Namjoon was overall pretty confident in himself - not in a cocky way, but a self-assured way. He knew he had a true talent for rapping and producing, not to mention his natural capability to mediate any bad situation. Even his dancing, though nowhere near Hoseok, Jimin or Jungkook’s ability, never seemed too bad.

The one thing about being an idol that really made Namjoon insecure was his singing voice. Hoseok and Yoongi also didn’t have the greatest singing voices in the group, but they had accepted that fact long ago, while Namjoon just couldn’t seem to bring himself to.

So to say that he was anxious about singing a verse on an actual album song would be an understatement. Bang PD had asked him to, and perhaps it should have been assuring for Namjoon to know that the big boss felt he was good enough to sing, he couldn’t get past his apprehensiveness.

Jimin and Taehyung accompanied him to the recording studio to meet their boss and a few other producers to begin recording. Both of them could easily tell that their hyung was nervous, though he tried his best to hide it from them.

Bang PD greeted the three of them brightly when they knocked on the recording studio’s door. “Right on time, boys. That’s what I like to see.”

“Of course, hyung-nim,” Namjoon replied, hoping that the smile on his face made up for the slight shakiness of his voice. “We’ll always do our best to be on time.”

The boss gave him a pat on the shoulder and then got right to business.

Taehyung and Jimin went in to record first, each able get their parts right without too much trouble. Namjoon tried not to be envious of the ease with which they sang, tried not to let the harsh insecurities swirling around in his head drown him.

“Namjoon-ah,” Bang PD said, gaining the leader’s attention immediately. “It’s your turn. You only have half a verse so it shouldn’t take too long. I know you’ll do well.”

The leader had to gulp against the lump growing in his throat. “Yes, sir.”

Namjoon entered the recording room and moved to stand in front of the microphone. It was funny, he had stood before this microphone countless times in the past, and yet, Namjoon had never been so terrified to approach it.

“Alright,” Bang PD’s voice came through the speaker, “Let’s start with just the first line.”

Namjoon nodded, feeling the familiar dampness of sweat beginning to form on his trembling hands. When the music started in his ears, he leaned forward and sang into the microphone.

He sounded terrible.

Even to his own ears, he was flat and sounded like an amateur.

He winced and bit his lip, eyes shutting in shame. “Sorry,” he blurted out before one of the producers could say anything. “Let me try that again.”

The second time was better, but not by much.

The producers were endlessly patient with him as they gave him direction and tips in an attempt to get the right sound out of him. It wasn’t working, that much was obviously clear after an hour with little progress.

Namjoon was fighting the panic rising up within him, his damp hands now clenched tightly into fists. He knew that it was his nerves getting to him, that he could sing the line just fine. He’d practiced enough to be sure of that, but of course, the one time it really mattered, he just couldn’t get it done.

“Are you okay, Namjoon?” Bang PD asked, genuine concern coloring his tone.

Namjoon found himself unable to answer, his tongue feeling like lead in his mouth.

He heard the door to the room opening and footsteps heading towards him, but he couldn’t bring himself to look up.

First, he felt the touch of a hand on his arm and moved his gaze down to see Jimin’s small hand holding onto him. Then he looked up to meet Jimin’s gentle eyes and felt like he could get lost in them.

“Bang PD-nim said to take a fifteen-minute break,” Taehyung’s voice came from Namjoon’s other side, “They left to go get some lunch.”

The leader, even through his panicked haze, could understand the underlying meaning in the second youngest’s words. They were alone. Namjoon could break down if he wanted to.

“W-Why can’t I do it?!” he began, the words starting to pour out of him before he could stop them. “I was okay during practice. Why can’t I do it now?!”

“Hyung,” Jimin replied softly, “I think you’re just too nervous. It’s making your throat too tight and affecting your vocal cords.”

“I know,” Namjoon moaned, “I can’t help it.”

“Why are you so anxious, hyung?” Taehyung asked.

“Joonie isn’t a good singer! Joonie sounds bad!” Namjoon exclaimed, his tone getting higher in pitch as he fell into his headspace. The other two couldn’t say they hadn’t expected it. “ARMY will hate Joonie!”

“Agioo, that’s not true,” Jimin furrowed his eyebrows as his arms naturally wrapped themselves around his hyung’s shoulders. “I think your voice is very nice, love.”

“Me too,” Taehyung added, bopping the little’s nose, “Just because you might not be able to hit high notes or do a bunch of runs doesn’t mean that you’re a bad singer. And you’re really good at being on key, unlike some of the people that like to go to karaoke.”

Both Jimin and Namjoon huffed out a little laugh at that. It had become clear to everyone in the group that the easiest way to calm Namjoon down from his panic attacks was to tell the truth and add a bit of humor to keep the atmosphere light. They also made sure to never just sugar-coat their words.

Taehyung didn’t tell him that he was the best singer ever because that wasn’t the truth, but Namjoon certainly wasn’t a bad singer by any means either.

“You have to remember, Joonie,” Jimin said, “Bang PD-nim and the other producers think that you’re good enough to sing on an album song. Trust them on that, okay?”

Namjoon could feel himself calming down slowly but surely. He was still pretty far in littlespace, but his head felt clearer now. “Okay,” he nodded, taking their words to heart. “Joonie’s sorry he got scared.”

Taehyung waved it off, “Eh, we all get scared every now and then.”

Jimin and Taehyung spent the next ten minutes bringing Namjoon out of his headspace so he could record his lines when the producers returned. This meant they had to fight the urge to cuddle their hyung, which was difficult considering they were probably the two most cuddly members of their group.

When Namjoon went to try his lines once more, he kept his eyes on his two dongsaengs through the little window and sang to them. He was encouraged by the proud smiles on their faces and it helped him to relax enough to sing.

Bang PD was happy with the results and praised Namjoon once they finished an hour later, leaving the two ninety-five liner’s to finally take their hyung back to the dorm to cuddle.

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2018 (based on this moment at 2:19)

When it happened, Namjoon couldn’t help but be brought back to that moment just after debut where something so similar had happened to him.

It was during a live performance of Fake Love that Namjoon’s innate knack for breaking everything he touches showed itself once more.

Yoongi started his verse and the six behind him began their chain dance. When Namjoon reached over to Jungkook and put his hand on his chest as the choreography went, he gripped the material too hard and was unable to release his hold before he jerked away in the next dance move.

Just like it had when it happened to Namjoon five years earlier, the leader watched in almost slow motion as the top three buttons of Jungkook’s shirt ripped off completely. The maknae’s chest was left exposed.

Namjoon saw Jungkook’s eyes widen in panic momentarily as he registered what had happened before the maknae regained his professional composure.

The rest of the performance was a blur to the leader, who couldn’t stop the insistent replaying of the panic he’d seen in Jungkook’s eyes. It had been the exact look that he’d had in his own eyes all those years ago.

Before he knew it, they were back at their dorm and someone was calling out his name.

Namjoon blinked and forced himself back into reality. He was in his bedroom now, sitting on the edge of his bed. Jungkook was sat beside him, eyeing him with a worried furrow in his brow.

“Hyung, are you okay?” he asked.

Namjoon took in a deep breath, trying (and failing) to will his anxiety away. “I’m so sorry, Jungkook.” he blurted before he could stop himself. “I’m so sorry about ripping your shirt earlier, it was an accident.”

“Oh, that’s alright, hyung,” Jungkook replied, his eyes softening. “I know you didn’t mean to do that.”

“B-But...” Namjoon stuttered, his voice quivering along with his lower lip. “But...”

Jungkook saw his leader’s slip into littlespace before it happened, so he pulled the older into his lap and wrapped his arms around him comfortingly. “I won’t lie, it made me nervous for a moment -” Namjoon whined and hugged Jungkook close to him, burying his face in the maknae’s neck, “- but it’s okay. Accidents happen, yeah love? Don’t worry about it anymore, I’m okay.”

“P-Promise?”

Jungkook guided the little’s head away from his neck and then held up his hand, his pinkie finger pointed out. “Pinkie promise.”

Namjoon linked their pinkies together and felt a wave of relief go over him. “Sorry Joonie so clumsy.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Jungkook shook his head, “We all love clumsy Joonie, okay?And we’ll tell you that as many times as it takes for you to believe it.”

“Okay.”

“Now,” the maknae said, “How about the two of us go gather everyone up and we can have a sleepover tonight?”

Namjoon’s eyes lit up in excitement and he hurried to scramble off Jungkook’s lap, nearly falling into the corner of the bedside table in his haste.

The maknae caught him before it could happen, thankfully, and shook his head fondly. “Careful, love.”

Namjoon probably didn’t hear it, however, as he was already halfway out the door and screaming to the rest of the house their new plans for the night.

...

“Why do we always do this? It’s such a bad idea.”

“Stop being a party pooper, Yoongi-hyung. You know you love the cuddle pile.”

“But we don’t even all fit properly on here.”

“Shh!”

The bickering between Yoongi and Hoseok was brought to an abrupt halt when four of the other members squished together in bed with them quieted them harshly.

“Enough you two,” Jin said, his voice low, “Namjoonie’s sleeping and we don’t want to wake him up.”

“Yeah, I’m trying to take pictures,” Jimin added, body positioned awkwardly so he could get his phone to properly face the little curled up in the middle of them.

Namjoon was dressed in his blue dinosaur onesie and had a rainbow tie-dye pacifier between his lips. He looked so content pressed between his members, the hand not under his head clutching at Jungkook’s t-shirt as he mumbled a little in his sleep.

“Send those to me,” Taehyung croaked, half-asleep on the other side of Jungkook as he glanced over at Jimin snapping a few too many pictures.

“Me too!”

“Me three!”

“Me four!”

“...”

Jimin rolled his eyes and turned to the one member who hadn’t said anything yet. “Yoongi-hyung, you don’t want the pictures?”

The eldest rapper grumbled under his breath.

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

“I said they’d better be of the highest quality!”

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A/N: So this one was focused more on when littlespace comes into play for Namjoon when he’s insecure, of course, so there weren’t many littlespace activities like I usually have. I hope that this was okay still, let me know!

[floosies]

bury a friend: The Story of Noctua

pairing: platonic!steve rogers x possessed!oc x mcu!au x romantic!bucky barnes

summary: there have been sightings of a dark creature who vanishes with night and in the mornings only remains of once living people are found scattered in open fields or forests nearby.

warnings: mentions of abuse, mentions of attempted suicide, violence, gore, cursing, mentions/scenes of sexual nature.

Please read with discretion. 18+ content.

A/N: This is my first attempt at something more dark. It’s been in my brain since hearing some of biilie’s works and quiet frankly I want to venture into new territory. However, I understand the severity of some topics that I will write about. If you or someone you know is in need please look at these resources

Tags: @indecisivedolly​

Series Masterlist

Part 6: Oblivion

It had ended as a good day, she did best as she could to answer some of Barnes’ questions. Dinner was relatively calm, but as always she felt something was surging beneath the tranquil pace of reality. Tenebrae would surely alert her if something was to be approaching though, surely. She couldn’t sleep that night, or at least she thought that.

Dreams and visions are two similar and distinct things. A dream you can control, if you so choose to. A vision is like a picture or painting, it remains unable to be tampered with for it is merely a recollection of memories. She’d seen the temple only once, it was a sort of gift from Tenebrae after she mastered the wonders. There she was blessed by ancient powers, only one other flesh body was there. With a gasp she awoke, “Malum.” There he was, “good to see you too lamia, let’s go.” 

There was never any waiting with the norse prince, he was relentless and egotistical. What they walked into was interesting, she had never seen the sunset at the temple, “why are we here?” She was now dressed and her eyes clouded as she waited for a fight. He smirked, “Tenebrae our old friend it seems cannot help me out of this one, so it requested you help me instead. Afterall, you are indebted to me after our last scuffle.” He couldn’t see it, but she was rolling her eyes. 

Suddenly the beautiful orange hues changed to black, the two moons no longer aligned with the pillars. Suddenly swords were out, both the magical beings levitating. The creature was horrifyingly deformed, an odd goo dripping from its mouth. It was demonic, she could tell by the way its eyes were colored and shaped. Knowing Malum, he probably pissed off another kingdom. 

He tried to cut it from the mouth downward, she held the beastly creature down with a spell. It was becoming difficult to hold the putrid thing down though, with great power it knocked her down. “Wretched beast! Malum have you made the damn incision?” She heard his groan, “it isn’t too long, but yes.” Getting up, she quietly asked for Tenebrae’s full force, the creature snarled and groaned. “Enough of this!” With a motion of her hands, she tore the creature in two, and set it on fire. 

Meanwhile on Earth the compound was alerted of a break in. As the team frantically searched for the breach, a strike of lighting and the sound of thunder boomed through. An angered Thor made an entrance, his target being Rogers. When he made contact, he grabbed him by the throat. “You allowed the witch to live?” Everyone was quick to stop him, “hey. Hey big guy you wanna let him down so he can talk?” Tony said, Thor then dropping Steve, “that girl is havoc. News has spread around the realms that she just killed a demonic beast on a sacred temple. I know she is with Loki.”

For all the tricks and tools that he had achieved from hundreds of years in battle and seclusion, Loki was awful at being discreet. The moment they arrived back at the compound, they were met with angered looks. A familiar face was there too, “Strange. It’s been years,” she said softly. They were interrogated again, “why do you owe anything to Loki?” She sighed as the others listened from the hearing system, “he saved my life once believe it or not. It was a long time ago when I was first attempting transmutation,” On the other hand Loki was getting asked his relation to the witch, “an old friend. She owed me a small favor. I would have asked Maximoff, but I figured it would be better to ask an old friend instead of an old rival.” Ever the charming prince, Strange and the others figured they could never really make Loki understand his errors. 

Nevertheless, he would be kept on Midgard for some time to figure out what else he had done before the night of the temple battle. Tenebrae was proud of what she’d done, “the temple is sacred though. I don’t think it was appropriate.” The being listened as it watched her lay on her bed, “neither do I, but it had to be done. Be thankful it was in the future,” her brows furrowed at the comment. “You mean to say that no of that has happened yet?” It paused before answering her, “he was saving his flesh for future reasons. You won’t be affected,” it was difficult to understand, but she had more pressing questions for which she needed answers. 

When the truth of her birth story was revealed she felt a deep relief. Tenebrae promised that she would meet her true lineage in time. It was a sobering thought, but that kind of sadness did not get to set in her. Peter was being attacked in Manhattan. The beast they’d killed in the future was apparently aware that the witch and prince traveled to the past. Demonic kind of beasts were the most tricky kind. They are connected to all time and space as they exist beyond as more of spirit. Which means the tools to kill them must be blessed, cursed, or anointed. Thankfully for Noctua, she had all three measures covered. 

Not wanting to strain her power on transmutation, she figured she’d just get Malum to take her. Instead an authoritative Steve stood between her and the “You already killed one version of this weird thing, you’re not going back. Stephen and Wanda are going.” Rolling her eyes, she spoke quickly. “I don’t think you understand. That creature is after Malum.” “Malum?” “Loki! It is not a simple kill.” They watched the monitors around the compound show how Strange and Maximoff were struggling. They wouldn’t be able to do a thing, “let’s go Malum.” Before Steve could protest, she had already teleported out of the compound. 

As soon as they got to the creature, she looked at Malum, “we need to get this awful thing out of here. Do you know a place,” he nodded and without a second thought they were in a sort odd realm, the creature was still alive. Wounded again, but alive. The wound was a large gash, “you have my sword right?” Out of his cape came the sword she was gifted ages ago. He’d used earlier, but it was her turn now. Both of magic wielding beings cast bounding spells on the beast, “if you wish not to dirty your precious silks and leathers I suggest you move back. “ He laughed, “always glad to see you as arrogant as ever.” In one quick motion she cut the beast unleashing an odd colored plasma or blood. It drenched her with a rancid sent, but it was dead. For safe measure, she took a moment to assure with Tenebrae that the beast was dead for good. Repeating the same killing would be exhausting. 

When they arrived back to the present day New York, she was annoyed and tired. Malum thought she looked amusing covered in the remains of the creature, “I’m going to bathe. My end of the debt is paid off. Don’t bother me with your stupid near death experiences. You always go looking for them.” It upset him when she grew angered with him, “oh please. You enjoy our outings.” She mockingly laughed, “I do not. You always charm your way into trouble. I always had to get you out of. It’s for that very same reason I left you on the damn planet. You always made it so we were targets for some kingdom or creed. It got tiring.” He smiled a her anger, “I do miss this. You always look ravishing after a fight.” She finally reached her chambers, “oh Malum. You always be an idiot at heart.” With that she closed the door on him. 

It didn’t take long for Tony and the others to find him. He was put back in his cell, but not before they carefully removed the monitor they had placed on him. On it was video evidence of what happened when they disappeared with the beastly demon thing. Steve had arranged for her and Wanda to spend the remainder of the night entertaining themselves with whatever they’d like to as long as it wasn’t leaving the compound. 

An urgent meeting was held with the highest ranking members of the team. They sat around the meeting hall and watched the recording. It was terrifying, “are we sure we want things like this to enter our parameter?” Rhodey asked with deep concern. He’d been sat alongside them watching their expressions, “from the looks of it you were relieved it when she killed the thing.” Their gaze was now on the man dressed in black, Carol wasn’t so easily disturbed by him. “Who are you?” He smiled, “I’m the being who gave her the powers she used to kill that thing before it killed your young comrade.” They watched him move closer, “she is a great asset and from what I am gathering in the beyond, her life is in safe hands here. It would be a mistake to have her leave, or so I’ve seen.” It wasn’t a threat it was a warning. The team took a moment, it was Banner who spoke up, “are you sure she won’t combust? This type of work it-” “I know all your fears and believe me, she is as harmless as a butterfly, she’ll grow to admire you all. Or have I not already mentioned I’ve seen things you haven’t?” The room grew a bit cooler, the air somewhat thinner. “The girl stays. We’ll deal with Loki in the morning.” 

[spaceskam]

i’m scared that you’ll finally see that i’m not very strong

Summary: Michael is broken and it’s too big a task for one person.

ao3

“But basically I don’t know what to do.”

Alex sighed slowly as he looked between Maria and Michael. Isobel had called Alex in a panic to tell him that Max was dead and she knew that he had some fancy alien information that he needed to look through to fix it. Once that call ended, Alex had immediately gone to call Michael to see how he was doing, mainly because that would explain why he never came home, but Maria had called him before he could finish dialed the number that he annoyingly knew by heart. She had insisted Michael needed him, so obviously he went.

Instead of finding Michael in distress, he found him curled up in a cocoon of blankets in Maria DeLuca’s bed. She had explained that they’d kissed and he’d fled, then when he came back he was virtually catatonic. He was unresponsive and blank, like he was lost and had just showed up at the Pony not too unlike her mother had more than a few times. Alex understood why it freaked her out, but he didn’t understand why she called him.

“He came to you. Take care of him,” Alex said in the most monotone voice that he could manage. It hurt him on more levels than one to know that Michael had gone to her instead of him twice in one day. It was glaringly obvious that whatever was between them was truly over.

“I don’t think he meant to come to me, Alex,” Maria explained. She looked almost frantic as she stared at him, begging him to just fix this situation with her eyes. “I-I think he just came here because he comes here all the time and his brain is on autopilot and he saw something he recognized. Like my mom does. Sh-she sees the sign and she comes because it’s something she recognizes, I think he did the same thing. I don’t think he wants me, I think he just wants something familiar.”

“Okay,” Alex said dumbly. She wasn’t helping. She was pouring salt in the wound, even if it was accidental. It felt the same as if she was saying ‘haha I’m his safe place, not you’ and it wasn’t fun.

“You’re familiar, Alex,” she said, eyes wide like she’d cracked the code. He stared at her for a moment before he realized that she really just wanted him to take over completely. His eyebrows came together and he took a step backward, towards the door.

“No, I’m not even going to touch him. He came here to you, he got in your bed, and he is in your blankets. He clearly wants you around him,” he shot back. Tears brimmed her eyes and she shook her head, desperate not to have this on her. He couldn’t imagine how it must’ve felt to have two people you care about just show up at your door as shells of themselves and needing you to take care of them, but he also couldn’t do much in the way of helping. If Michael was indeed shutting down mentally, the last thing he was going to do was be the one to make it worse. He’d rather die than have that happen.

“No, Alex, please. You’re his person. I-I can feel it.”

“If that were true, he would’ve come to me, not you.”

“No! It was just… just… Alex, please, I’m sorry,” Maria cried, fat tears pouring over her cheeks. She was suddenly just that little girl when they were 9 and had found a dead baby bird. He remembered how upset she was and, though he and Liz both tried to explain that it wasn’t her fault, it didn’t seem to make her feel any better. She couldn’t seem to understand how she was the one to find it and it wasn’t directly her fault that it died.

Right now, Alex was more than sure that she felt it was directly her fault that Michael was broken.

And the last place she saw him “fixed” was when Alex was around.

“Maria, it isn’t my place to tell you what has happened to him in the last two days,” Alex said softly, reaching out to put a hand on her arm. Even if she’d kissed Michael and completely ignored Alex’s feelings in the process, he found it hard to watch her be this upset. He always had. “But what I can tell you is he’s been through a lot and he clearly came to you to… I don’t know, distract him. Make him feel better.”

“Alex,” she said desperately, “I swear, I don’t think he wants me. Not really. He’s just seen that sign every day for the last 7 years and‒”

“Maria,” Alex said sternly, “He’s in your bed right now. You can’t tell me that he doesn’t want you.”

She bowed her head as she cried a little harder and he instinctively brought her into his chest for a hug. His eyes drifted to Michael who seemed frozen in time, his eyes open and glassy and empty as they gazed off in Alex’s direction. He wasn’t looked at him, just through him and that was another added layer of fucking painful.

“I don’t understand. He was fine and-and then I touched him and I broke him and I’m sorry, he wasn’t mine to break. He wasn’t mine to break, Alex, I know it. I’m so sorry, I’m sorry,” she cried, “I-I just ignored all the signs, all the everything. It doesn’t take a fucking psychic to know you two are-are linked, but I ignored it because he was good and he was safe and he… he’s yours. I broke him and he was your good thing.” Alex sighed heavily, looking towards the ceiling. He needed a fucking nap. “I don’t know what to do.”

“I can’t tell you what to do, Maria,” he said, slowly letting her pull out of the hug, “But you didn’t break him. Seriously, if anyone did, it was me.”

“No‒”

“But I didn’t either,” Alex said so surely that he almost believed it himself. His eyes drifted back to Michael who had sealed his eyes shut now, looking not one bit peaceful despite the effort Maria had gone through to burrito him up in the softest things she could find.

“I don’t know what to do, Alex,” she said again for the millionth time that night. He took a deep breath.

“He likes to be held,” Alex explained softly and it hurt more than he wanted to admit, “H-He sweats in his sleep, mostly in his hair, so it helps if… if you run your hand through it every once in a while to air it out. He likes hot chamomile with honey, but he won’t tell anyone that, so you just have to give it to him. It calms him down.”

“Alex, why can’t you just‒”

“He doesn’t want me.” His voice cracked and he wanted to bury himself in a hole. Her empathy was written on her face, plain as day. He took another step to the door. “Just… He likes to be the little spoon, so…”

“Okay, Alex. Okay.” Maria nodded. She took a deep breath of her own and did her best to steady herself before she walked to the other side of the bed. He watched her lay behind him and do her best to wrap her arms around the lump of blankets, softly shushing him like one would a baby.

He didn’t know why he kept standing there and staring. It was like he torturing himself even more. The man he loved more than anything in the universe had chosen his best friend. He should be angry, he should be storming off, but mostly he just felt helpless. Michael was shutting down, Maria was panicking, and all he could do was stand away and watch as two people he loved tried to find some level of peace. It was irritating at best.

Before Alex had grown the motivation to leave, Michael’s eyes opened again. This time he looked at him. It was quite possibly the most vulnerable he’d ever seen the man with the exception of those moments in Caulfield. Even when he was covered in his own blood, he hadn’t looked so scared and exposed. Even when he was holding his mangled hand to his chest moments after Jesse Manes had left them, he had been assuring Alex that he was okay and asking if Alex was hurt. This was different. This was Michael truly needing something and being too fucked to hide it.

It was a phenomenon. Alex stumbled closer.

He quickly put himself in check though because Michael was experiencing serious trauma. He didn’t need to be touched by anyone that he hadn’t explicitly made clear that that was okay. As much as Alex wanted to be that person, he wasn’t, and so he stared into Michael’s beautifully haunting eyes and waited. He wasn’t sure what he was waiting for until it happened.

Michael gave the smallest nod ever and suddenly Alex was taking off his shoes.

Maria mouthed a thank you to him as he crawled onto the other side of Michael. He kept space between them, but their eye contact never ceased. After awhile, his hand slid it’s way out of the blankets and just enough for Alex to notice. Alex gulped at the healed skin and felt a lot of things deep in his stomach as he stared at it. But he knew what was being asked of him and grabbed it with both of his, letting Michael go limp as he softly massaged the muscles in his hand.

It was something that they never did when light could hit them, a secret little moment that was saved for the dark so that they could pretend they hadn’t done it in the morning. So many things between them were saved for those moments in the dark so that they had no obligation to discuss it when the masks came back on in the morning. That’s how he was able to tell Michael how he lost his leg and let him touch the scars for the first time. That’s how Michael was able to go into detail on the things that had plagued him as a child. That’s how Alex was able to do the same.

Michael's eyes closed as he relaxed and Alex let himself do the same, hoping Maria would join that party as well. It was easily the weirdest situation he’d been in, but he couldn’t find himself to be confused. Michael was hurting and he needed people to just hold him without question. Romantic and platonic didn’t mean shit when your world felt like it had ended all in one fell swoop. Alex couldn’t find it in him to be hurt anymore. If he was Michael, he’d probably want all of his friends to smother him in a mass group cuddle too. Honestly, he could use one now if they got to ignore it once morning hit. It made sense. They could talk about details later. Right now, they all just needed a nap and some semblance of safety.

Alex fell asleep to Michael’s pulse and Maria’s whispered shushing.

[axelsagewrites]

HP*Werewolf Pt1

Ship(s): No romantic ones. Platonic reader X golden trio, platonic reader x Professor Lupin

Requested (?): Nope

Warnings?: Werewolf hatred

Type: angst

Masterlist HERE

Wattpad HERE

Shattered glass fell onto the bedroom carpet. Jagged claws raked ripped lines into the floor. It wasn’t quiet. the screaming didn’t help. A scream surged from my lips as the teeth sunk into my shoulder, claws scrapping down my arms. I could hear distant sound but screams and growls filled my ears. My eyes opened and fixated on the seemingly glowing eyes of the creature onto of me. Coloured lights began flashing. Black spots began to surround my vision. Everything felt distant. Everything went black.

A flickering light greeted my groggy eyes. I groaned and turned my head, my eyes falling on my sleeping parents beside my bed. “What happened?” I croaked out.

“You’re awake!”

“I’ll go get the nurse,” Dad rushed out as I pathetically forced myself into a sitting position.

My mum rushed to help me, passing me a glass of water, “What happened?”

“Its okay honey,” my mum said but her eyes said something different.

I looked around and my eyes fell on the sign I saw outside my room. First floor. “First floor? But I-that wasn’t-what happened- “

“You're awake,” The healer said as she walked in. “Someone will come by to tell you how to…adjust then well discharge you,” her eyes raked me up and down.

“What happened to me?!” I almost yelled.

“It's not even a full moon yet,” the woman grimaced, “You were attacked by a werewolf,”

“But I-I’m not a-I can’t be,”

“Honey it’ll be okay. We’ll always love you the same. Won't we?” She looked at my dad.

“Of course. It’s not your fault,”

“No no no no no,” I held my head in my hands. I can’t be a- I can’t be.

“Someone will be round shortly till then I ask you to- “

“Can’t you have a little tact?” My dad spat at the woman. She rolled her eyes as she walked out, muttering under her breath, “Its okay (Y/N). we don’t need to tell anyone. It’ll be okay,” My mouth was dry, but my cheeks were wet. His words didn’t help. I was a monster. A werewolf.

 The person who came around gave me some random pamphlets like that would help. He didn’t stay long. This was it. This was my life.

 It was still summer, so I was able to adjust a little, but I doubt I'll get used to it. The transformations were the worst. Every month I felt every bone in my body seemingly break, reshape, set, then reverse the whole process. Along with my parents having to restrain me every time.

They had to tell Dumbledore. He came to our house and helped my parents set up a mini sort of prison to lock me in during the transformation. He even said there was a similar thing at Hogwarts for me to use. He was more help than the healers.

Though after our chats my parents talked to him alone for a while. I was able to overhear something about special precautions. Things were strange after the attack. The attack was strange. My parents were hiding something

 I didn’t want to tell my friends, but the idea hovered over me since I saw them. My parents have gotten overprotective since the event. They insisted on taking me themselves, not letting me get the train.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione seemed to already in deep conversation as they walked into Hogwarts. I started making my way over when Hermione saw me and ran up. “Where were you? You weren’t on the train,”

“Oh, err we were visiting people nearby, so my parents dropped me off. No point getting the train if I’m 5 minutes away,” I lied. I'd been here for the past couple of hours as Dumbledore showed me where I would go and going over what might happen and how things at Hogwarts are different.

I learned the story behind the shrieking shack. Dumbledore showed me how to get there and lead me down to an old room. I was to go to the same room every time and never go into the other one. Ever.

“oh okay,” she said as Harry and Ron approached.

“(Y/N) I need your advice,” Harry said, “Have you heard about Sirius black?”

 The talk about Sirius black and all the other rumours going around distracted people from my monthly ventures. It was the scars that didn’t help. Werewolf me would attack anyone, even myself, in frustration. I wore long sleeves, never took my jumper off, and buttoned my shirt all the way up. When Hermione asked, I said I was trying a new fashion thing out. She just rolled her eyes, not even slightly into fashion. That was close.

When the scars were on my face was the real problem. I didn’t share a dorm with any of my friends, luckily, so none of them questioned me. The dried blood on my face prompted me to visit madam Pomfrey.

Sure, I got to skip morning classes, but I still walked into the great hall for lunch. I normally kept my head down but this time it was staying there. As I found my seat beside my friends, I stayed silent. “What happened to your face?” Ron blurted out.

My cheeks went red. “Ronald!” Hermione scolded him. This only drew more attention as people looked over at me. It was normally Harry they’d stare at but this time it was just me and this scar.

Harry cleared his throat, “You alright?” he asked, quietly not that it helped at this point.

I shrank in my seat, “Yeah I um. This is embarrassing,” I said, looking anywhere but him. I took a deep breath and looked up, “I was trying to finish my potions homework last night, got tired, messed up and it’s kind of exploded and now I um look like this,” I rushed out. “So yeah I don’t want to talk about it,”

He believed me, I think, but this was going to be tricky. People soon turned back to there own conversations. Though I felt one pair of eyes on me. My eyes glanced at the teacher's table to see the new DADA teacher staring at me. He’d only been here for 3 months but he seemed good. Dumbledore agreed to only tell teachers on a need to know basis but somehow, I think he knows.

 I knew people were talking about me. It was unavoidable. I couldn’t wear a mask. We had DADA last and for some reason, I was dreading it.

Professor Lupin looked ill. As I took my seat beside Hermione, I couldn’t help but notice it. My gaze caught his as he turned, and I quickly moved to take my books out. “Class turn to page 274 of your textbooks,” he said, finally looking away.

“Hey, it’s nearly the end of the day,” Hermione whispered, “Oh and by the way I was thinking we could look up how to get rid of your scar. There must be a spell or a potion. Well, I'd do the potion,” I just nodded and smiled. After this, I was having a nap.

The class droned on an on. We’d had lessons like this a couple times were the textbook did most of the teaching. As class drew to an end, I could feel myself want to drop out of exhaustion. I kept having to pinch myself awake as lupin droned on and on and on.

“Alright that’s enough for today,” Lupin said, snapping his book shut, “No homework today but I would advise going over your material,” the class began packing up and rushing out as he spoke. As I was packing up my bag, slower than usual because of the exhaustion, he said, “Oh (Y/N). id like to speak with you, alone,” he said before turning back to his desk to organise something.

I groaned and Hermione gave me a look. I shrugged so she did. As the class dwindled out Harry asked, “You want us to wait?”

“I’ll stay,” Hermione said. The boys nodded and took that as permission to rush out, “Honestly I don’t get why they the school.”

“I don’t get why you're surprised,” I joked, “Thanks for waiting,”

“No problem,”

By this point, the last person was leaving. Hermione watched them shut the door and turned to me with an expectant look. I cleared my throat, “Yes professor,”

“Okay (Y/N),” he turned around but paused when he saw Hermione, “You two Miss Granger,”

“It’s okay- “

“No. I did say alone after all.” He gave her a look. Hermione turned to me with a sorry smile but nodded to the door, meaning shed wait for me. As Hermione shut the door Remus sighed, “She’s going to wait,” he muttered before smiling. “You can sit if you’d like,” I didn’t move, “It's just you look like you may well pass out,”

“I’m fine,” I said, leaning against the table. “What’s up?”

He looked down for a moment, “I just wanted to tell you about the syllabus a little. We’ve covered different creatures but soon we'll have to move onto the next unit. Werewolves,” he said pausing, “That wouldn’t mean anything to you, would it?” he asked.

I felt my palms get sweaty and everything clam up, “What? I-I’m not a-Why would I care about those things?” I asked. “I’m not some weird hippy-dippy wolf hugger,”

Any form of happiness fell from his face, “You might say that I would’ve at your age as well. But you’ll understand werewolves aren’t always monsters. Some people maybe but not all,” Lupin said. “It was a full moon last night,”

“I don’t really track the moon,” I lied.

“I have. My parents did it for me then I had to start doing it,” he said, walking behind his desk, “In fact, I could probably list the next several full moons to come off by heart. Just encase,” Lupin began rummaging in one of his desk drawers, “Do you know about the shrieking shack?” He asked.

“It's one of the most haunted places in Brittan,” I said, cheeks going red.

“People have recently begun hearing howling coming from there again. Did you know?” I shook my head. “You don’t have to lie to me,” he finally found whatever he was looking for and shut the drawer, “Do you know why I asked you to wait?”

“Nope,”

“(Y/N) you’re not dumb. And you're also not a monster,” he said before tossing a couple seats of paper onto the desk beside me, “Here. A list of excuses I used and people actually believed. It's tricky to think them up on the spot. Maybe you’ve got a sick aunt, or a spell went wrong,”

“Your one as well?” I asked.

“You can say the word.”

I paused, looking down, “You’re a werewolf,” I whispered, “Like me,”

“Yes. Have you told anyone? Apart from Dumbledore, I assume?” I shook my head, “Trust me when I say if they really are your friends, they’ll realise somethings up. It not an easy life but theirs no point making it harder,”

“I-I don’t know how to tell them. What if they hate me?” I whisper.

“Would you like me to help? We could do it together?” He asked.

Looking up, I glanced at the bracelet on my wrist. Hermione had bought it from one of those cheap souvenir shops for me. I nodded. Professor lupin walked over to the door and opened it. Soon Hermione walked in, sheepishly.

I turned around, puffy eyes and holding back tears. “Hermione, I need to tell you something”

[space-whalesharks]

Don't kill me, but all the fruits for grant and alistair please 💕

Also just noticed @troyebakers asked for all for Grant too, so here y’all are:

Let me apologize to mobile users now bc this is probably just gonna be a giant wall of strewn together nonsense for them. Switching around the order of the questions to make it flow a fair bit better. 

🍍  :    how comfortable is my muse in their body? how do they feel about their height,  weight,  strength,  and body type?  how important is being attractive to them?  

🍑  :    how meticulously does my muse look after their physical appearance?  do they spend a lot of time on their hair,  makeup,  grooming,  and clothing?  is there a particular reason why they do or don’t?  Grant:  Grant is basically okay with how he looks. He doesn’t exactly like his appearance, but he doesn’t hate it either, nor does he think it’s that important. The only thing he’ll really fuss over is his hair, and his idea of fussing is brushing it but letting the bedhead win a lot of the time.  Same goes with how he dresses- if a pair of jeans and T-shirt are discarded on the floor one night and they’re not in bad condition/they don’t smell, he’ll wear them again. Alistair:  He’s a little fussy with it. He knows most people find him attractive but he’s not that invested in it. Living for multiple centuries does that to a guy. He’ll make sure he’s neatly put together daily and that’s that. He does usually try to dress nicely though. His casual is a nice sweater, well-fitting leather jacket and dark jeans. He tends to call it ‘professorly.’ 

🍅  :    how does my muse feel about plastic  /  cosmetic surgeries   &   procedures?  is it something they have done or would do?  do they mind if others do it?  Both: Both of them are usually in the “why do people do that, it’s not necessary, people age, it’s a fact of life” side of things- with Alistair noting “except for me” in that last bit. They’d never dream about getting anything done themselves. 

🍏  :    how stable is my muse’s physical health?  do they go for regular or semi-regular checkups by a physician?  do they have any diagnosed illnesses and / or take any medication?  how often do they get sick?

🍎  :    how stable is my muse’s mental health?  have they been diagnosed with any mental illnesses and  /  or conditions?  do they have any undiagnosed mental illnesses and  /  or conditions?  do they or should they attend therapy?    Grant: He’s usually physically healthy and tries to stay that way. Mentally, he’s a mess and tries to get help, but it’s not lost on him that talking with Nic and getting hugs from her works better for him than an actual therapist half the time. Alistair:  Fit as a fiddle permanently, if you don’t count the whole living undead thing. He’s also fairly mentally stable himself, and he’s had a vested interest in Psychology the last century, which helps things. 

🍒  :    how much does my muse value companionship?  do they constantly keep people around them,  or do they prefer to be alone often?  do they have or desire to have many friends?  do they see every meeting as an opportunity to make a new friend?  Grant: After what happened during his time as a soldier, Grant got it in his head that he was bad luck for anyone around him, so he tried to stay solo for as long as possible and didn’t actively make friends. Enter Nic and Matthew/John, and it was another story. They didn’t really give him an active chance to tell them to leave him alone so they wormed their way into his heart, which helped his mental state so he was able to pursue a friendship with them and then a relationship with M/J, which healed him enough where he was a little more outgoing/willing to meet and befriend other people. Alistair: Nearly the same deal. He was also fairly anti-friends because people only usually gave him the time of day to get in his family’s good graces. He was very apprehensive about making friends because he figured once they got what they wanted they’d leave him, considering that happened a lot. And then Kat and the others came along and made him feel wanted, and while he still has that distrust of people outside that group, he would die (again) for every single person in their friend circle.

🍇  :    how would my muse describe their childhood?  how much has it impacted the person they are now,  or will become as an adult?  around what age did they or will they start to mature,  and why?  do they wish to go back to their days as a child,  or have they embraced adulthood?  Grant: He had a lonely childhood, his parents did take care of him, but were also fairly neglectful and paid more attention to their business than him. When the whole ‘bi but leaning more towards being romantically interested in men’ thing came to pass his parents sent him off to live with his gay uncles which ended up being the best experience of his life because he finally got active attention/parental figures who genuinely cared about his day or interests for once. The first half of that, however, prepared him a lot for his self-exile after coming home from overseas, but it also planted the idea that there was a silver lining somewhere in life, which he found in his friends. The only way he’d want to relive his childhood is if he was with his uncles the entire time. Alistair: Looking back, Alistair acknowledges that his mother raised him to be a spineless, pompous ass. Him becoming a full vampire/getting some distance from the family when he turned thirty was the turning point where he acknowledged that ‘oh hey, a lot of this shit is messed up.’ He wouldn’t relive his childhood at all. 

🍐  :    how intelligent is my muse overall?  are they smarter than the average person,  or less than?  are they primarily self-taught,  or did they acquire most of their knowledge in school?  are they more street smart or book smart?  Grant: He never went to college, he joined the Army straight out of high school, so he’s got an extremely basic… standard education. He’s more street smart than anything, and considering That Day, he got a lot of “that’s the how the world works, it’s unfair” type lessons from that tragedy. Alistair: He’s extremely intelligent. He went to college for law, but in the centuries since he’s found modern law is a little too corrupt for his liking, so he went into veterinary science and then studied Psychology on his own just to pass the time. 

🍉  :    which of the four seasons suits my muse best,  and why?  Both:  Winter. Their personalities and wardrobes match it more, and they both enjoy the aesthetic of it the most. 

🍌  :    is my muse inclined to help others,  or will they only do it when it benefits them,  if at all?  what makes them this way?  has it ever gotten them into trouble,  or inconvenienced them? Both: Will help others at the drop of a hat for entirely selfless reasons. They both figure they’ve got awful pasts to make up for, and if little acts of kindness and paying it forward is how they can go about it, so be it. 🍊  :    does my muse desire romance?  is it something they would actively seek out,  or prefer to happen more  ‘  naturally?  ’  what is their love life like?  do they have any exes or past flings,  or crushes?  Grant: Was very anti-love/anti-thinking-he-deserved love, but then Matt/John came along and was charming and nice and patient and his heart was all “alright get your shit together because T H I S   O N E   I S      F O R   Y O U.” Because of that, he’s an absolute mush with his LIs, which is a surprise to everyone outside his immediate friend circle because “wait the stoic guy likes cuddling and talking with faces a couple of inches apart and getting all romantic on holidays?” Alistair: Got his heart shattered into pieces by his first love early in his life, so he was reluctant to ever start anything romantic ever again, but then he fell for Kat platonically, which kick-started his heart back up to be willing to go pursue someone romantically - and then said heartbreaker comes crashing back into his life and then it’s a 50/50 clusterfuck again and he’s not quite sure what to do. 🍓  :    how is my muse typically seen by others?  does it ring true to who they really are?  does their reputation matter to them? Grant: Doesn’t give a damn about his bad stoic/wide/intimidating reputation. He’s not here to be judged, and if people wanna judge a book by its cover, fine, that’s not his problem. He’s got a handful of friends who love him because they bothered to get to know him, he’s invested in them. Alistair: Used to care very strongly about reputation and yearned to be alluring/scary/intimidating all at once, but he learns that was a lot of his mother’s influence, so he goes out of his way to nice people to death so he gets a far more welcome, warm, friendly reputation to make sure it sticks. It makes him stop caring about it so actively/doesn’t make it a staple in his life anymore.

🥝  :    does my muse have any  ‘  unusual  ’  habits, interests,  and  /  or talents?  do they hide it,  or are they proud of it?  Grant: Nothing special at allAlistair: He’s a hemophobic vampire, so he doesn’t go out on hunts with his family- nor does he feed on humans unless it’s necessary. He uses his resources as a vet to ‘feed’ on animals- where he’ll only feed feed if there’s a time crunch, but even then he only takes a standard blood test’s amount and tries to make it last- and he’ll even coach the animal through it, promising that he means it no harm, they’ll be safe in a minute, “Awww, we’re done, see, that wasn’t so bad. Good job, here’s some extra biscuits/cat treats/veggies, you did so well.” 

🍋  :    what kind of diet does my muse have?  do they eat regularly,  or the standard 2-3 meals a day?  do they have to be reminded to eat,  or are they likely to remind others?  do they cook,  or have others cook for them?  do they eat healthily,  or not so much?  Grant: Unless depression is kicking his ass, he’ll eat balanced meals regularly, with the usual 3x a day. If he does have a day of depression where he misses a meal or so when Nic or John/Matthew is around, they’ll notice and try not to be too forceful about it but they’ll also make a meal with him and try to goad him into eating it, and it usually works. Alistair:  Also keeps up with regular meals 3x a day, considering he tries to make human food work as much as possible to avoid interacting with blood in any capacity. If worse comes to worse he’ll cook up/order a super bloody steak and have it, wincing all the while. 

🥭  :    how important to my muse is their hometown,  or where they’re from?  are they proud of it,  or considered a hometown hero? did they move away,  or do they wish to?Grant: Grew up in Texas, and mentioned, he hated it so he avoids going back. He considers Wyoming/his uncles’ ranch home and would live there if he could, but then the job in Hope County came along, and he sticks there for a while and he’s happy, but maaaayyyybbbeee he’d consider dropping hints to John/Matthew that settling back in Wyoming could be nice if they’d be up for it. He’d be okay if they weren’t, though. They could always vacation there, and it’s enough. Alistair: Grew up in the downtown area of [CITY REDACTED] and has a hate/love relationship with it, so when Kat comes along and he joins that crew where they’re on the outskirts of town by the bay, he absolutely falls in love with the weird suburbia feel and makes plans to move there nearly immediately. 

[multisfabulis]

The Road to Forgiveness Be Damned

Scars of the Past Still Fester (Chapter 4/7)

Word Count: 6871

TW: Referenced child abuse, slight body horror

Hey, look, a chapter that didn’t take two months to come out! I started writing this not long after I came back from my hiatus because, in tragic irony, the beginning of this chapter is basically a condensed version of the shit I went through the few days before my hiatus and, in practicing rare self-care, I decided to hold off on writing this till after a week of everything happening so I didn’t fester in my grief.

This chapter also REALLY toes the line between platonic and romantic with Ven and Ferreth. It’s especially evident towards the end but I want to think it has some semblance of it being platonic, though that depends on your definition of platonic. Anyway, I loved writing this chapter and I hope I was able to convey the seriousness of “Characters laying bare parts of themselves they don’t want others to see to each other and having their walls down” it deserves.

Read on AO3 | Read on DA

     It was the first step she took Ferreth noticed something was off. Her eyes not wanting to focus, the sluggish way her body moved, everything in her demeanor sent him on the alert. It was only when Ven began to collapse, he realized something was very wrong.

     He caught her before her head hit the ground. Fear gripped his heart as he panicked over what to do. Was she hurt internally? Would it be safe to carry her back to Thal Esari if she was? What if she was already…? He couldn’t bear to finish the thought. His anxiety only worsened the longer time passed.

     “Ven? Ven, come on. Wake up for me, honey, wake up.” He gently shook her in an attempt to wake her up. “Ven, please… I need you to be okay so just. Wake. Up!”

     No response. Despite the ever so slight rise and fall of her chest, nothing would ease his worry more than seeing her violet eyes again. He cradled her close, memories of that horrible time beginning to plague his mind.

     The sound of his mother hacking up phlegm and blood. Her once strong and robust body withering away to nothing. Her voice and smile so weak and frail. Her warm brown skin becoming pallid and sickly. His hope of her recovering from her illness slowly waning till the day she died. Him watching her die bit by bit while he could only stand there, feeling helpless to do anything. He forced back the tears that were ready to be shed, as well as the painful memories.

     He couldn’t go through that again. He couldn’t lose another person he loved while he stood by, knowing he could’ve done something but didn’t. No. He was NOT going to let history repeat itself. Taking a deep breath, he swept an arm under her legs, picked her up, and sprinted off towards Thal Esari.

     Back through the forest and into the field, he ran. He couldn’t stop thinking about how it was his fault she got hurt. If he just refused to listen to her, if he just brought her back by force, she would be okay. Her being pissed at him was so much better than wondering if she was alive or not.

     Please be okay, he kept repeating in his head. It was more of a prayer than anything else. A prayer among all the what-ifs and maybes, something he desperately hoped for a god above to hear.

     As he neared Thal Esari, his ears picked up murmurs from Ven in his arms. He looked down to see her stirring awake and his run slowed to a walk. She slowly opened her eyes, glancing around and coughing some.

     “What…happened?” she asked, her voice hoarse.

     “You passed out and I couldn’t get you to wake up,” he replied, anger beginning to seep into his voice, “so I’m carrying you back to Thal Esari.”

     “...I’m sorry.” She averted her gaze. “I didn’t mean to make you worry over me.”

     “Damn right you are!” he snapped, stopping his walk. “Do you know how scared I was when you wouldn’t wake up?! I don’t even know what the hell would’ve made you pass out like that!”

     “Ferret---”

     “You told me you would be okay and, me being the effing idiot I am, believed you! God, why do I even listen to you sometimes?! I thought---I thought you were…”

     A couple tears quickly slid down his cheeks. The thought of losing her was always there but this was the closest he felt to that fear becoming reality. He never wanted to feel like this ever again.

     “Ferreth.” Her hand caressed his cheek, wiping away another fallen tear as she tenderly smiled. “I’m okay.”

     Her touch brought him comfort, which he gladly leaned into. If she was able to do that, she mustn’t be badly off. For someone who claimed to be bad with people, she certainly knew how to make him feel better.

     Retracting her hand, she said, “I’m okay to walk so you can put me down, okay?”

     “Are you sure?” he asked. “I don’t want you passing out on me again.”

     “I’ll be fine.”

     He carefully set her down, staying close by her side in case she wavered. She took a tentative step forward, then another and another. It was when she started to sway he walked up and caught her before she fell.

     “I’m just a little tired,” she said drowsily.

     “You want me to carry you so you can rest?” he asked, helping her stay up straight.

     “No, I’ll be okay, I just--” a yawn escaped from her mouth before she could try and cover it-- “need your arm till we get there.”

     She grabbed his arm and rested her head against it, closing her eyes. How she could stand and walk while sleeping, he’ll never know. For now, though, they needed to continue on their journey. He made sure to take it slow so as to not jolt her awake while she slept.

     No one paid much attention to them after they passed through the gates. No one, except for a certain lackey. He felt eyes watching them but he wasn’t sure if they belonged to the same person from earlier today or yesterday. Either way, they were being stalked and their every move was being reported to Filaurel. If only he could find the bastard and order them to pass the success of their deed on to the hag… Maybe then, she’ll stop having them followed.

     Ignoring that, he needed to search for a doctor. He doubted anyone would help him find one and he certainly didn’t want to wake Ven up to ask if she knew where one was. He was on his own.

     After a painstakingly long time of looking, he found it. A small clinic, with faded white paint coming off in flakes and dark green window shutters, stood in front of him. Its only window was simple in only having six glass panes for people to peer through to the other side. A wooden sign hung above the door with Elvish writing carved into it. It might’ve said “Doctor” on it but his fluency with Elvin left much to be desired. Feeling there to be no other choice, he swung the door open and went in.

     A lone elf sat at a desk, which had papers scattered everywhere. They appeared to be writing something down before lifting their head up to look at them. They stood up from their chair and came around the desk to greet them. He was able to take a better look at them once they stepped in the light pouring in from outside.

     They were significantly shorter than him, though not to the extent Ven was. Dark brown hair tied into a long, thick braid hung over their shoulder and brown eyes hid behind silver-rimmed glasses. The stark white overcoat they wore contrasted their olive skin while showing off a slender yet lithe body. He hoped this person, whoever they were, could help Ven.

     “I’m Dr. Sharian Elcan. What seems to be the problem?” they asked, adjusting their glasses.

     “Well…”

     From there, he told them of the events that occurred over the course of their trip. He had to throw in some white lies here and there so they wouldn’t get suspicious. It’d be hard to explain the existence of a chimera in the swamp, after all. Thankfully, they seemed to believe his story and directed them to the back.

     “All right, Ven, time to wake up.” He placed his free hand on top of her head and ruffled her hair.

     She yawned and blinked her eyes to wake up. Soon as Elcan noticed the color of her eyes, their whole personality did a 180. What was once calm and collected became agitation as they suddenly began ushering them out the door.

     “Hey, hey, hey, what’s the big deal?!” he exclaimed, stopping in his tracks, “You just told me you could help her!”

     “Sir, your friend is a Vlixeox. I don’t treat them here,” they said with contempt in their voice.

     “What the hell does her being a Vlixeox have to do with you helping her?!”

     “Look, I don’t have to explain myself to you. Take her to another doctor, if you must, but I’m not treating her.”

     “Ferret, let’s just go, okay?” Ven urged, gently tugging on his arm to leave.

     He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. What was with this village hating Vlixeoxs for no other reason than “just because”? Ven being a Vlixeox shouldn’t be a point of contention and shouldn’t stop her from getting what she needed. Her race didn’t make her any less of a person deserving of basic decency. She may be fine with being looked down upon but he won’t let anyone treat her like that while he was around. The problem lied in trying to convince this prick to help her.

     That was when the idea struck him. As horrible as the thought may have been, it was the only thing he could think of that would work. It’d essentially be bribing someone who clearly didn’t deserve it but… If it meant Ven would be looked at, his worries would be calmed, then so be it.

     Letting out a disgruntled sigh, he asked, “If I give you all the money I have, would you help her?”

     Her fingers tightened on his arm while Elcan asked incredulously, “Are you trying to bribe me?”

     “If it means she’ll be okay, then yeah.”

     “You’re not gonna leave until I do what you want, huh?”

     He nodded, giving the doctor time to mull it over. He hoped the prospect of money would overrule their prejudice. Greed was a powerful motivator for getting even the most stubborn of people to do your bidding, after all. They gave them an answer a moment later.

     “Fine… Take her to the back and I’ll look at her.”

     Relief washed over him and he led Ven to the back of the clinic. There were five beds lined up in a row, with curtains acting as dividers for each one. A wooden cabinet filled with medical stuff stood at the western end of the room. They seemed to be the only ones here, which was good since it meant they got the doctor’s full attention. At least something was in their favor today.

     “You didn’t have to do that,” she said, looking up at him after he helped her up onto the bed. “I’m all right.”

     “I know I’m being a little overprotective but--” he butted his forehead against hers while stroking a thumb over her knuckles-- “I just want you to be okay. Once the doctor gives you a clean bill of health, I’ll stop acting like a mother-hen.”

     “Don’t leave me, okay?” she whispered, her eyes pleading.

     “I’ll be right here so don’t worry.” He squeezed her hand to comfort her and brushed his lips against her temple.

     Elcan came in just then, holding a clipboard and pencil. They did the usual check-up stuff, like taking her pulse, checking her cognitive faculties, etc. The only thing left to do was mark the injuries she may or may not have off. When they suggested a more thorough examination, that was when hell broke loose.

     “No---stay back. Stay away from me!”

     “Miss, I need to make sure there aren’t any serious injuries on you.”

     “I don’t care! I know I’m okay but I’m only here because my friend’s worried about me when he doesn’t need to be.” She turned to him, clenching his hand in hers. “Ferret, I’m fine, let’s just go.”

     He knew why she was acting like this. Of course she’d react like a cornered animal to that seemingly benign approach. It was because of that. Letting someone see something that, not only makes you self-conscious, but serves as a reminder of the hate people have for you being different carried too much weight. No way would she want anyone to see it, least of all a complete stranger.

     “Ven, I know it’ll be hard but please let them help you,” he begged, hoping she’d listen to him.

     “Ferret---”

     “I know I’m being a dick right now but they need to know what they might have to treat.” He brushed his fingers through a lock of her hair that wasn’t in the ponytail. “Do it for me?”

     She balled her hands up into fists in her lap and stared at the ground. He felt like an utter asshole for saying that to her, knowing it’d tug at her heartstrings. He just wanted her to be okay. His worries may be completely unfounded but he’d rather be overreacting to nothing than be caught unawares by something avoidable. Moments later, she spoke, her answer shocking both him and the doctor.

     “All right, but I want you to do it.”

     “Uh, Ven, you do know that I have next to no medical expertise, right?”

     “So? When has that ever stopped you? You’re the only one I can trust with this and you know I won’t take no for an answer.”

     Well, that came back to bite him in the ass. She knew how to turn the tables on him and, even if it annoyed him at times, he loved that about her. Now, however, there was another dilemma on his hands.

     Once her mind was set on something, it’d be impossible to change it, but he didn’t know anything about medicine and the like. Then again---as she said---when has his lack of knowledge on something ever stopped him? The problem was, if he missed something and it turned out to be serious… But she seemed fine right now. He could only hope she just had cuts and scrapes.

     One defeated look from him was all it took for Elcan to know. It was futile to argue against it and they acquiesced. No matter their concerns, Ven would just dig in her heels till they eventually gave in.

     Elcan walked over to the cabinet and took several things out. They placed two trays, washcloths, bandages, and a vial of clear liquid on the counter below. Was all that really necessary just for some cuts, he wondered. They came back and pulled him aside to tell him what he needed to do.

     First was to fill the trays up with water and soak the washcloths in them for a few minutes. Then clean the blood and dirt off the open cuts and scrapes. After that, pour some of the liquid in the vial on the washcloths to disinfect the wounds. Lastly, only use the bandages on the ones he felt were worser off than the others. It wasn’t perfect but it’d have to do.

     They then headed back to the reception area, leaving the two of them alone. Neither spoke, letting silence envelop the entire room. Orange light peeked in from the front of the clinic, filling in the space between them. The quiet soon turned into tension, with the looming realization of what was about to come next hanging above them. He certainly wasn’t looking forward to it.

     The moment of truth. He never thought he’d actually see the scars she had told him about many times before. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t imagined them and it was more out of a sick sense of curiosity than anything. It’s only because of his urging he was able to see them today. Guilt gnawed at his heart, knowing he was forcing her to do something she wasn’t entirely comfortable doing. This moment should’ve come on her own time, no matter if she trusted him.

     “So…” He let out a shaky breath, attempting to calm his nerves. “You wanna just get…that over with?”

     “Can you…promise me you won’t say anything about them when you see them? I know they won’t be nice to look at and…I’d just appreciate it if you didn’t say anything.”

     “I know you’re already super nervous about me seeing them so I won’t say anything. I promise.”

     He swore he heard her sigh in relief. Not surprising, since this was probably her first time showing her back to anyone, which had to carry fear he’s never experienced before. If he had to make a promise to her to ease her anxiety just a tiny bit, he’d gladly do it.

     Giving her time to mentally prepare herself, he went over to the cabinet and started doing the tasks Elcan had given him to do. He placed the trays under the faucet and filled them to the brim. With washcloths now soaked, he put everything on a nearby medical cart and wheeled it over to Ven’s bed. He shut his eyes tight upon arriving, in case he walked in on her undressing.

     “I think…I’m ready,” she said, sounding unsure.

     “You sure?”

     “Not really but I don’t think I’ll ever be.”

     He took a deep breath, attempting to calm his nerves once more. He felt nervous and afraid yet he knew there was no way out of this. Was he really about to see them? The many physical reminders of the pain she suffered? His heart raced as the large bundle of nerves he had began to unravel. No time to waste, he just had to do it and get it over with. Steeling himself, he opened his eyes.

     Scars upon scars were layered over each other on her small back. Many of them curled around to her chest or over her shoulders and left dark mars on her pale skin. Others were small enough to only fade over time. It was easy to tell she struggled to turn away from the whip as it struck her, as if they held her down while they doled out the abuse disguised as “punishment”. Seeing these horrific scars, knowing they were inflicted upon her as a child, rendered him speechless.

     He felt angered, outraged at this. How could anyone think this kind of torture was okay to do to a child? No matter how much they want to try and pass this off as punishment, it was abuse. Cruel, sadistic abuse given to an innocent girl with the unlucky fortune of being born a Vlixeox. She didn’t deserve to be mutilated in public for something as petty as stealing. No one deserved something like that, period.

     There were so many things he wanted to say to her. How they weren’t in the right for doing that to her, why she didn’t deserve the shit they heaped on to her. Just anything to convince her she did nothing wrong and wasn’t the monster they or even she herself claimed to be. But he doesn’t. He made a promise to her and he planned to uphold that promise.

     Scattered across her back were small red scrapes and patches of smeared dirt. He brought the medical cart closer, never taking his eyes off her back. The scars looked even worse up close than they did at first glance.

     “Well, I see some stuff that needs to be cleaned so…” he said, subtly warning her of what was to come.

     She braced herself by taking in a deep breath. He dabbed at a bloody scrape on her left shoulder with the wet washcloth. She let out a whimper as soon as the cold water touched her, her hands squeezing the side of the bed to death. Despite trying his best to be as gentle as possible, his touch was still enough for her to flinch from. Her scars ran deeper beneath the surface, he knew.

     “Sorry.”

     “It’s okay. I’m just not used to…being touched there. It feels weird.”

     “I’ll try to take it slow and be gentle, okay?”

     Silence fell between them once more. Instead of it being the uncomfortable quiet of before, it was more of an intimate quiet. He gently wiped the dirt and blood off her back and soaked the dirty washcloth in one of the trays. She didn’t flinch as much as she grew comfortable with the cold yet light touches to her scrapes. It was only when he dabbed at them with the disinfectant she recoiled away, though that was more from the stinging than anything else.

     “All right, that’s your back done,” he said, wringing the dirty washcloth. “Now we can move on to the others.”

     Putting her shirt back on, she asked, “Is it okay if…I talk for a little bit?”

     “Yeah, I’ll just keep doing what I’ve been doing while you talk,” he replied. The day she’s had, she was probably wanting to vent to him.

     “Okay…” He began washing the dirt and blood off her arms. “I don’t know if they’re the only ones that died but those names I yelled at you earlier? They were people I knew from when I was a kid.

     “Leena, Aila, and Travaran were a group of kids that’d play by the plaza everyday. Aila used to carry these large books around with her to read and I think Travaran and Leena were brother and sister. I always wanted to ask if I could play with them but I was too scared to really do it since I knew the adults wouldn’t allow it. I think Leena would try to come near me sometimes but she was probably scared of me like everyone else was.

     “Braern was a fruit vendor over at the marketplace. I loved eating the apples he’d lay out sometimes.” He disinfected the cuts on her arms. “I think he felt sorry for me because there were times he’d catch me stealing from him and he would just let me go without saying a word. I appreciated that.”

     She held out her legs, continuing, “Vaeril was a vagrant but he used to be a great storyteller. He’d weave the most wonderful stories about adventurers going on these grand quests and people from all over the village would gather around just to listen. I was always so fascinated with them and yearned to hear more. He never said anything bad to me but if he ever hated me, he never let it show.

     “Rathal was a person I didn’t know much about. I guess you could say I knew more about their dog than them.” She let out a short laugh as he cleaned and disinfected her legs. “His name was Lucky and he was this big, fluffy dog that always knocked me down to the ground whenever we played together. Rathal didn’t seem to mind, though they probably got annoyed with how loud I was at times. I hope someone took care of Lucky after…they died.

     “Seldanna…was the only kind one.” She paused, gripping the hem of her shirt tightly as he soaked both the dirtied washcloths in the trays. “She never hurt me or said horrible things to me. She’s why I love flowers so much, because she’d always tell me what each one was and let me see them up close. I don’t know why she was so nice to me but I’m happy she was.”

     She muttered out an apology as she wiped away unshed tears. Hearing her talk about the people that died made him realize just how tragic this all was. She never wanted to hurt anyone, much less kill them. She just wanted to stop her tormentors from whipping her again. They meant so much to her, even if she didn’t understand the small acts of kindness they did for her back then. Even if Filaurel didn’t grant her forgiveness at the end of all this, it was clear they forgave her.

     Drawing her knees up to her chest, she continued on, “I know that me telling you all this ultimately doesn’t mean much but… To me, these people mattered and they deserve to be remembered as they lived, not as they died. They deserve to have their tales told, even if it’s by someone who only knew them for a few years. It seems ridiculous that I’m saying this, I know, but… It’s stupid, isn’t it?”

     “No, it’s…” he paused, racking his mind for the right words to say, ���it’s---good that you think that. I mean, in a way, they live on through you and the other people they touched in their lives. They may not be here anymore but that doesn’t mean they’re gone forever. I like to think that, so long as they’re remembered and the memories you and others have of them are shared, they’re not truly gone. Does that make any sense?”

     “Yeah,” she replied, giving an emphatic nod. “I’ll keep them alive in my memory. Until my time comes and I meet them again, that’ll be all I can do. I hope they’ll be okay with that.”

     A soft smile illuminated her face, warming his heart. He wasn’t a philosophical person by any means but he believed in what he said. No one’s truly dead until they’re irrevocably forgotten. He learned that from his mother beyond her grave and he hoped people would do the same for him when his time came to pass.

     “That sounded like something Eric would say,” she said, sliding off the bed with his help.

     “Being wise at times is something he and mom have in common,” he replied. “’Cept he’s a lot more clumsy about it.”

     She let out a small giggle as they walked out the clinic. Elcan didn’t bother acknowledging their departure, instead continuing where they left off. He placed a small pouch on the counter before going out the door. He planned on sticking to his word, even if they hadn’t really treated Ven. At least it meant the good doctor now owed them a favor if they needed it.

     As they walked back to the house, he found himself staring at her back. The image of her scars still lingered in his mind. It was easier to imagine what they looked like because he didn’t have anything to go off of back then. Now he knew and they were more horrific than he’d ever thought them to be. He only knew because she might’ve been forced to show him, regardless of whether or not she ever planned on it, which made this even worse. Making her reveal something so personal where she’s at her most vulnerable wasn’t fair. While it ultimately was still her choice, it should’ve been under better circumstances. He felt like an utter asshole.

     That was when he decided. If her scars had to be shown to him, he’d make it even by showing her his. She had the benefit of hers being well-hidden while his were clear for the whole world to see where they were. It’d be easy to assume the bandages he wore were a fashion statement when their true purpose was the complete opposite. A dull ache began to emanate from his forearms as he tried to ward off the memories of that day.

     Once they came inside, Ven flopped onto the couch. She was probably exhausted after the events of today and wanted nothing more than to sleep. With shaky hands, he took off his gloves and started undoing his bandages. No one outside of his family had seen the aftermath of the accident so this was a first for him. No going back, he repeated to himself as the layers on his fingers had unraveled.

     “Hey, Ven, before you drift off to dreamland, you mind giving me a few minutes? I wanna show you something.”

     She sat up, brushing away the hair that fell in her face. More layers had been shed, both wrappings spiraling down to the ground. He kept his arms hidden from sight as he sat on the table across from her.

     “It isn’t fair I saw your scars when you haven’t seen mine. This is so we’re even.”

     The last of the bandages fell away and brought his arms out from behind him. Her eyes widened in shock at the horrid sight. Brown and gray stones of wildly differing sizes appeared to be embedded in his arms down to his fingers. Some were like pebbles while others were like rocks. Dried blood stuck around the edges of where they cut into him, no matter how much he’d clean them. The skin on his arms was a pale brown compared to the rest of his body, due to how much he kept them under wraps. Despite how bad it looked, this could never measure up to hers. Still, the feeling of hiding something you didn’t want others to see under any circumstances was all too familiar to him.

     A hand covering her mouth, she asked, “H-how did this happen?”

     “You remember when I said me and my brother would compete with each other when we were kids?” She nodded. “Let’s just say I got cocky and did something stupid in an attempt to win against him. Next thing I know, I’ve got these rocks in my arms.”

     “Is there a way to fix this?”

     “Hell if I know. These have been with me for over a decade and a half at this point and are probably staying with me for the rest of my life.”

     “Do they hurt?”

     “Eh, not really. I’ve gotten used to the pain over the years and they only really hurt if I’m not careful with the cleaning.”

     She reached a hand out as if to touch them but stopped. If she was worried about hurting him by doing that, there wasn’t a need to. Hell, he was actually surprised at her eagerness.

     “You can touch them, if you want,” he said, holding his arm out to her. “It’s not gonna hurt me any.”

     Taking a glove off, she hesitantly touched a stone. Although the pain hadn’t bothered him, they were still sensitive enough to make him flinch. She ran her fingers across both his arms, as if checking to see if they felt the same. She seemed almost fascinated by this, doing everything short of poking and prodding him. This couldn’t be a pleasant experience for her but she showed no sign of being grossed out.

     “Ferret, I know you said I could lean on you whenever I needed it and--” she took both his hands into hers-- “I want you to know that you can do the same to me.”

     “Ven---”

     “You can lean on me the same way I do on you. I know I can’t do much other than listen but I want to be there for you like you are for me. You’re my friend, Ferret, so please know that you can lean on me whenever you need it, okay?”

     He let out a snort and laughed. This was typical Ven fashion, being incredibly kind to someone who’s done nothing to deserve it. Whether or not he treated her with basic decency or his nonexistent self-worth, there’s no way he earned it. He didn’t object to it, though, knowing her vehement denial of things he knew to be true.

     “Jeez…” He leaned forward, touching their foreheads together. “What did I ever do to deserve you?”

     Why would she want to stay with him? He wasn’t special. He was just a common Earth Dradnach with no outstanding skills or qualities. He was always second-best to Kandorinth and everyone considered him a disappointment. No matter how hard he tried, no matter how much he trained, he could never live up to their expectations. Someone as extraordinary and wonderful as her shouldn’t want to stay with someone as ordinary and worthless as him.

     Yet, for some unimaginable reason, she did. She wanted to be with him, regardless of how inferior he believed himself to be. She didn’t care if he was a dime a dozen amid a class of Dradnach. She liked him for who he was and saw the worth he so desperately wanted to believe he had. There was nothing he could give her that even came close to everything she’s given him.

     She pulled away and stood up to sit at his right. She took off her other glove, revealing her injured hand from when she cut herself earlier today. The bandage he wrapped was still there, a dark red stain right where her palm was. He wondered what she was doing.

     “Hey, Ferret?” She intertwined her fingers with his and rested her head on his shoulder. “I’m really happy to have you in my life.”

     All coherent thought was just thrown out the window. He knew he had to be blushing while a part of him, deep down, was screaming. He was used to women being forward with him and having casual flings with them. It was completely different when the woman he’s in love with was being this bold with him. Just keep calm, he repeated to himself as he resisted the urge to hyperventilate.

     “I’m truly blessed to have a person as wonderful as you in my life. You treat me with such love and kindness and I don’t deserve any of it. You make me so, so happy. As selfish as this is, is it okay if you stay by my side just a little while longer?”

     Lacing his fingers with hers while resting his head atop hers, he replied, “Only if it’s okay if you stay by mine a while longer as well.”

     She squeezed his hand, giving him his answer. They stayed like that for a time, basking in each others’ warmth. He didn’t doubt she loved him, though he knew it wasn’t in the sense his love was. That was okay. They didn’t need to love the same way to want to be with each other. They had something that didn’t need to be defined because it was what it was. A lifetime relationship between two people, whether they were friends, lovers, or something in-between.

     Her hand went slack in his and he looked down to see her sleeping. The poor girl must’ve been so tired yet she still stayed up as long as she could. He smiled softly as he tenderly brushed away strands of hair tickling her face. Now was the time to put her to bed and end today on a high note.

     Carefully picking her up, he carried her to her room. This was his first time going in there and it was dark. The only source of light came from the moonlight peeking through the vines from the window just above the bed. From what he could see, the glass was cracked, as if rocks had been thrown at it, and the bed was small with light blue sheets. She probably spent the nights of her childhood in here as well, which made him grimly wonder about the broken window.

     Disregarding that, he gently laid her on the bed so as to not wake her up. He took her boots off and placed them near the end of the bed. He didn’t dare unstring her cloak or let her hair down; that might’ve been pushing his boundaries. He pulled the thin blanket laying by the side of the bed over her body. Before he left the room, he let his eyes linger on her sleeping form as he whispered something into the air.

     “May you have a peaceful rest and sweet dreams, Ven.”

     A wave of exhaustion swept over him as he collapsed on the couch. God, today was one hell of a fucking day, he thought bitterly. He couldn’t wait for their trip in this hellhole to just end already. If it weren’t for him resigning to Ven’s inexplicable need to be here despite her fear, he would’ve taken her back home on the first day. At lease she wouldn’t be reliving her childhood trauma.

     This trip had done nothing but hurt Ven so far. Meeting the bitch responsible for all the pain she endured and getting berated left and right sucked, to say the least. Then today managed to one-up that by forcing her to confront the vengeful spirits of the people she accidentally killed in the form of a fucked up chimera, of all things. If only they could leave sooner rather than later…

     What the hell even was that thing, anyway? That thing couldn’t be natural, someone had to have used a power of some kind to revive the dead. Vlixeoxs and Sealyphs were the only races capable of that but that’s searching for a needle in a haystack. No way was it coincidence they were sent to kill that creature. He knew exactly who was to blame and her motive for doing so.

     For now, however, they could take it easy for a little bit. Their task was complete and they still had two days left on their time limit. Tomorrow was a new day, a day they can kick back, relax, and do whatever they wanted.

     If what she went through today didn’t earn her her forgiveness, nothing would. She’s shown more remorse for her “crime” than most others would. Maybe she’d finally forgive herself if Filaurel gave her that. Still, knowing the kind of person she was, he had a feeling she’d pull the rug out from underneath her and refuse to pardon her.

     Well, whatever happens, he’ll be there for her, for better and for worse.

[enccrypted]

romance headcanons

name:          park tae-joon (alias: kim hyeon)

nickname:          “Joon” !! Though generally the only people to ever call him that were Mila and Mystik.  And “TJ,” maybe, I can see that one being thrown around a bit.

gender:           male.

romantic orientation:          he generally avoids relationships and is not extremely interested in others sexually or romantically, but it all comes down to the circumstances and particularly to how he connects with someone. He doesn’t care about the specifics of sex or gender — I do personally tend to lean towards writing gay relationships, but that’s a me thing, and I want to emphasise that it doesn’t really matter to Crypto. I’m generally willing to try what he is willing to!

preferred pet names:           hasn’t had any to speak of.

relationship status:           single, but might fuck around, might settle down and find happiness in a committed relationship with mirage apex legends, haha just kidding....... unless????

favorite canon/fandom ship:         God I have a few... I know that Cryptage (Crypto and Mirage) is a really big thing for the fandom (fic author once called it a “rarepair” and i was like huh??? are you kidding fam), and I personally love exploring their dynamic with vanishout. They have a rough start, but there’s no other person Crypto loves more... im emotional over Them, and Crypto is honestly so smitten. Their ship make me happy

I am also a big fan of Crypto and Octane! Something I’m messing around with whilst writing with deathchasing. They’ve got a lot of potential to go places, where exactly I’m still unsure, but guess we’ll sort that out later. :)

I am generally interested in shipping anyone with Crypto if there’s enough chemistry or an interesting enough dynamic. The only other characters I have on the brain though that I want to ship Crypto with are Bloodhound, Caustic, and Gibraltar. As of now though, I haven’t really properly discussed a ship with anyone else but Julie and Kabu. 

favorite crossover ship:           I don’t really have any! I can’t really think on the spot of one, either. I haven’t really taken Crypto out of his default Apex verse yet, but I’m willing to try.

opinion on true love:         It exists, that much he knows. Love is what carried Tae-joon through life even as an orphan on the streets with nothing to his name. It’s what helped him survive, because he worked and fought tooth and nail every single day for the people he loved. Mila, and later on Mystik, proved without a doubt to him that platonic love exists and is one of the most powerful forces he could know. Without them, I’m not sure where he’d have ended up. He believes in love, perhaps with more conviction than most things.

BUT as for romantic love... sure, he’s absolutely sure it exists. But he’s convinced it’s just not something he can have. Like... Tae-joon’s been through shit, earnt the life he had before the Games with his own blood, sweat, and tears. He knows full well that he has worth, that he is deserving — but the way the Syndicate directly and indirectly stripped him of everything that he loves and cares about really hit him hard. It’s tough for him to reach out and connect with people, and even tougher to allow himself to love again after he’s been taught time and time again that he will lose everything he has valued so dearly, worked so hard for.

And he’s afraid for the people that might be in a relationship with him; loving Crypto doesn’t just make him vulnerable, he puts anyone who cares about him in direct danger as well. In that sense, he doesn’t think he deserves love. Even if he found it with someone who’s willing to care about him, the guilt of making them a target for the Syndicate... bad. It’ll take a hell of an exceptional partner (willing to put themselves in danger and to convince him that they’re okay with this) for Tae-joon to reach a point where he believes he is allowed to have love, and that he deserves it.

opinion on love at first sight:         "amused at first sight” more like when it came to Mirage. I don’t think he’s really met anyone he instantly feel in love with on sight though, not as Park Tae-joon and certainly not as Crypto... it’s not hard to feed into the craving for human affection and for someone who really cares when he does slowly edge closer to someone. Like, when he actually allows them to be near him and lets them start forging some bond of trust. Honestly, love is never the first thing on his mind when he meets people, not even when he was living a civilian life as Tae-joon; there were always more important things to focus on.

how ‘romantic’ are they?:           Even before the Games, he didn’t really have a great way of going about expressing emotions and communicating how he feels, let alone when it comes to unfamiliar notions of romance. He’s not entirely emotionally stunted, but he has a way of hyperfocusing on work, on taking comfort in things mechanical more than human, and rarely lets people interrupt him when he’s on a roll. He’s fairly aloof, but once he loses his previous life and identity, he comes to a realisation that he took human affection and contact for granted. Unfortunately he has no choice but to live without it after that; I think getting into a relationship, he’d be massively awkward about it to start with, but would quickly warm up and learn to be affectionate. He wouldn’t go out of his way to be, but he definitely would know the importance of even the simplest of gestures. He’d make it a point to show he cares, because he knows it’s not always obvious to someone that they’re loved — even fi it may seem obvious to others. At heart, Tae-joon’s a very soft and very caring person and does try to show it where he can.

ideal physical traits:           Doesn’t matter to him. If he starts to love someone, he WILL find attraction in someone inevitably whether they are conventionally attractive or not.  

ideal personality traits:         he is... weak for soft and kind people. also loves someone who can match him in terms of intelligence and ability, someone who is good with banter. a good sense of competition. people with drive and ambition. there’s probably a tonne more, but it’s just not coming to mind right now.

unattractive physical traits:           Tae-joon grew up on the streets as a child, parentless and homeless. He saw it all. It wasn’t hard for him to learn that there’s far more admiration and beauty to found in other things than in the physical appearance. 

One point I do want to cover though: He thinks the physical result of his own augmentations and implants are unattractive. They’re a huge part of his survival and certainly technological marvels (designed all by himself, though he found outside help to have them implanted). But having to virtually gut and replace so much of himself really dealt a blow to his whole concept of his humanity and physicality. He has trouble seeing himself as a person sometimes, much less an attractive one with the enhancements he’s gone through.

unattractive personality traits:         stupidity. ignorance. unwillingness to learn. taking things for granted, wasting life away. selfishness and lack of empathy / sympathy for others. betraying the loyalty and the trust of the people who love you. complete lack of morals or ethics. acting like you’re something you’re not. people who view themselves above others (even though.. he often does... hahaha)

ideal date:           He doesn’t really have any standard of one, not really having been on one before (though can bet that Mila has tried to hook him up multiple times with a blind date or something, they always fell through or Tae-joon just didn’t want to). 

do they have a type?:        not entirely, I do like to joke around that he’s into himbos though. One himbo specifically, but overall there’s not any real pattern... I guess he would like soft people capable of showing kindness, who are the exact opposite of him in the sense that they still see beauty and value in the world for all the cruel wreck that it is. People who are willing to be kind without expecting kindness back, who is... willing to show crypto that sort of kindness and teach it to him again 😳😳 people who allow him to be vulnerable and understand the place he’s coming from... 

average relationship length:         So we’re making up pure lies and saying that he’s had actual past relationships? Fuckin wig... but I think he would enjoy moderate to long-term relationships when he does actually get into them. Obviously, he’s not going to start something with ease (commitment is a bitch when you’re in his situation), but he’s not going to start a relationship with the intention of dumping the other person early on.

preferred non-sexual intimacy:      i’m thinking he probably values non-sexual intimacy a lot more than sexual actually, especially since i’m exploring current ships where sexual intimacy is involved but human affection and connection isn’t... which, in turn, just makes tae-joon feel a hell of a lot more emotionally disconnected and lonely. He really values the comfort of just being close to someone, around them in close proximity without worry. Being there with them, listening to them speak and paying them attention even if he’s not the most vocal or performative person... there’s a very real comfort in that. Just leaning against someone, I think, sharing contact that isn’t even necessarily romantic. He just wants to feel, and be felt — that simple human connection is Wildly important for him.

commitment level:           Really fucking incredible. Like really fucking incredible if you get him to care enough, help him to open up and allow himself to care.

opinion of public affection:        It flusters him (though I think he could learn to like at least a little bit of it. Having someone he loves and can show off in a subtle sort of way), and he probably doesn’t ever allow it anyway on account of not wanting anyone with their eye on him to pick out vulnerabilities. He’s very careful about keeping any relationships during the Games highly secret — no point in putting someone he cares about in harm’s way, and honestly I don’t think he could stand losing another person after he puts in all the effort to learn to trust and to love again. Affectionate gestures in private though, as said, is all good with him.

past relationships?:           once he talked to a girl on an online mmorpg and they traded items and he thinks he got the better end of the trade so that was pretty epic. But no, he hasn’t had any.

tagged by: @incnspcuous and @deathchasing!!! thanks lads tagging:  @aeiiope / @thunderolled pls bless me with yr girls.... @vanishout, @slature​

[the-gay-in-the-way]

The Way Home, Part One

The First is an Experiment

(This is a 5+1 fic within my new Superhero AU, I’m Still Standing/ISS.)

(It’s supposed to be, 5 Times Virgil Adopted Strays Without Telling Logan Beforehand, And 1 Time Logan Did The Same.)

(It’s lot of platonic Analogical, tho you could see it as romantic if you really wanted.)

(It’s your life, you do you fahm.)

(This is one of the more serious chapters in this particular fic, so sorry that it’s kind of emotional.)

(Some of the others will be more fluffy and fun, I think.)

(Also, as a small warning it’s really not graphic or anything don’t worry, there are some mentions and implications of both human experimentation and child abuse.)

(So, either be ready for that or don’t read this if that makes you uncomfortable.)

(Like I said, its your life, you do you fahm.)

(Anyways, thanks for reading this, if you do, and I hope you enjoy the feelings.)

((((((((((((((((())))))))))))))))))

It had been years since Logan had last seen his best friend.

In that time, he hadn’t managed to find anyone else tolerable enough to take his place.

There had been many who’d tried.

All sorts of people who attempted to befriend the stone-faced genius in whatever ways they could.

Gifts and invitations to events.

Professions of love and affection in all matter of methods.

Attempts to learn more about him and share themselves in return.

There were even a few individuals who attempted to bond with him using their own genius intellects as some sort of connection between them.

But, in the end, nothing worked.

Logan rejected every single attempt.

Not because he couldn’t be friends with any of them.

On the contrary, he’d actually quite enjoyed spending time with a number of the people who’d vied for his attentions.

That wasn’t the problem.

The problem came from expectations.

From them.

And from himself.

Because they all expected to become his best friend one day.

To be closer to him than anyone else.

To stand above all others as the only person good enough to hold his complete trust and attention.

But that could never happen.

Because Logan had been spoiled.

Spoiled by an anxious young boy covered in makeup coated bruises.

Who’d asked him questions about his ideas and listened to him ramble on and on about whatever caught his interest, all while seeming completely and genuinely curious and interested in turn.

Who’d always remembered his birthday, even when his parents forgot, and learned alongside him how to bake a cake from scratch to celebrate each year.

Who’d helped whenever he was hurting and brought him comfort in his darkest of days.

He’d been spoiled by the kind boy with sharp eyes and soft smiles.

Who’d moved away as an orphan at the age of twelve.

Only to disappear completely at the age of sixteen.

He’d gone looking for him after that.

Of course he had.

The last message he’d received, through the specially made phone he’d crafted for his friend long before he’d moved, had simply said that he was feeling anxious around his new caretaker.

That he wasn’t sure why, but the man now caring for him made him want to run away and hide.

Logan had been concerned when he’d received no new messages after this.

Wondering why it was that his best friend wasn’t responding to his own sent messages for the next two days.

And when the news declared him missing…

Logan had, admittedly, panicked.

He’d been ready to invade his friend’s new home and demand answers of the man meant to watch over him.

But his parents had stopped him.

Reminding him that he could do more good for his friend by staying safe and careful rather than wrathful and panicked.

So Logan had stayed home and done everything in his power to search for his missing companion.

Days, then weeks, then months of fruitless searching.

Every clue he found was quickly converted into a misdirect.

Every lead, a red herring.

Every hint, another dead end.

He did his best to continue living normally, all the while.

But he’d been spoiled.

No one could match up to the best friend he’d grown accustom to over the years.

And nothing could quench his need to find him again.

Not until his father finally told him the truth.

Then, he stopped searching.

He continued to live life normally.

He made friends.

He went to school.

He studied all manner of subjects that caught his interest.

And he waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Until two years had passed, and his best friend’s eighteenth birthday came and went.

And he arrived in the parking lot of an old and, meant to be, abandoned military facility, standing amidst a group of similarly stone-faced lawyers as the building burned and fell apart right in front of them.

The sound of coughing was noticed first.

Then a man walked out of the smoke, holding Logan’s soot covered father in his arms while another man, who was missing an arm and part of his abdomen, leaned heavily against him.

Three glowing orbs of lavender light screeched threateningly above him, matching, and almost harmonizing, with the deep growling of two shadows curling protectively around the whole group.

Logan’s breath hitched when sharp violet eyes met his own.

The man holding his father stumbled briefly before continuing to walk towards him and the gaggle of lawyers.

A quiet warbling noise fell from the man’s lips and the shadows and lights surrounding him calmed in reaction.

One light in particular floated ahead of him and twirled swiftly around Logan and the lawyers before zeroing in on him and coming to settle gently onto his shoulders.

A soft, barely there, warble sounded from the light as it melted into the form of a small scarf on his shoulders.

He gave it the softest of pats as the man before him came to a stop just a few feet away.

“Logan.”

His voice was deeper than it had been when they’d last talked.

Rougher as well, though Logan wasn’t sure if it was something natural or if it was simply caused by the smoke inhalation.

He was also far taller than he had been.

Which wasn’t very surprising given how long it had been since he’d last seen him in person.

But his sharp eyes were still the same.

“Virgil. Welcome back.”

As were his soft smiles.

“Thanks, Lo.”

Those two simple words, and that nickname he hadn’t heard in years especially, held a volume of emotions that Logan was not able to deal with in that moment.

So he was rather relieved when his father coughed once more before wriggling in Virgil’s arms to be let down.

Once the elder genius was placed gently onto his own two feet, he turned to look at all of them in turn before addressing the other two still covered in soot.

“These are the lawyers that will help you regain your identity and gain access to your inheritance. All of the necessary papers and documents have been collected already, so you should be completely safe once we leave this parking lot. The authorities will likely arrive soon to investigate the fire. When that happens we’ll all leave this place behind, sticking with the true story of what happened here without mentioning any dangerous names.”

Virgil nodded, wrapping one of his now free arms around the waist of his injured companion.

“Right. Thank you for doing all of this, Dr. Fauste.”

A shake of his father’s head had Logan twitching as he realized what was about to be said.

“I only helped arrange our escape. Logan is the one who went through the effort of contacting the lawyers and preparing the documents for you. He’s also the one who shut down the security system for us. So, if you’re going to thank anyone, it should be-“

“Father.”

Logan’s voice was sharp, but his father only smiled at him in response.

A quiet huff of laughter caught his attention and made his gaze return to the one standing in front of him.

Still looking at him with those familiar sharp eyes and that same soft smile.

“You’re still bad at accepting compliments.”

The words were as soft as the smile that formed them.

The prickling heat behind Logan’s eyes was overwhelmed ever so slightly by the sudden irrational urge to push his best friend and swiftly walk out of the parking lot, away from the softness that was practically suffocating him at this point.

Ignoring that urge, as well as the prickling behind his eyes, was a herculean effort.

Instead, he simply turned away from his friend to speak to the lawyers behind him.

“If you would all please begin the process of reinstating Mr. Knight’s identity. We don’t have much more time before the authorities arrive to investigate.”

The reminder of their task brought the lawyers surging forth to speak to Virgil and push some various sheaves of papers at him to swiftly glance over and sign.

But, before the process could truly begin, and before Logan could escape for a breath, Virgil called out to him.

“Wait, Logan. What about Dee?”

The genius blinked in confusion before turning back to his friend.

“Dee?”

Virgil nodded, gently giving the wrecked man leaning into him a squeeze.

“Yeah. He’s always been an experiment here, so he doesn’t have an identity past that.”

Logan looked over at the other man, really taking him in properly for the first time.

Mismatched eyes, one light brown and the other bright yellow and reptilian, gazed tiredly back at him from a pale and partially scaled face.

There was exposed wiring and mechanics mixed in with the torn flesh and dribbling blood of his body, explaining why he was still capable of moving around so easily when he was missing both a limb and a good chunk of torso.

Logan remembered his father mentioning other experiments living within the facility.

“And you want to help him?”

But he’d mostly expected that they wouldn’t end up being his problem and had simply made arrangements to help Virgil and his father alone.

“Yes. Please, Logan. I know it’s probably a lot to ask for but…”

Though, he supposes that he should have, given the nature of his best friend.

“…I wanna help him. I can’t just leave him on his own.”

He’d always been far too kind for the world they lived in.

Logan sighed tiredly and brought a hand up to rub gently at his eyes, carefully readjusting his glasses afterwards.

Then, after giving his soft-hearted friend one final look of mild irritation, brought his tablet up from where it had been resting in the arm at his side and began swiftly tapping at the screen.

“I’ll begin the arrangements for the instating of a new identity and registry of citizenship. The necessary paperwork should be collected within the next few hours and we can begin the process as soon as Dee is ready to do so. In the meantime, he’ll be considered your property as the Knight heir in order to keep him under the radar and safe until everything’s ready for him. Is that alright with both of you?”

He glanced up at the two escaped experiments in front of him.

And immediately wished he hadn’t.

He was far too busy now to deal with all of the emotions that filled him when Virgil was looking at him like that.

Like Logan had given him the world.

Like he was grateful and touched.

Like he was proud to call him his best friend.

Dee nodded tiredly against Virgil’s shoulder and slumped further against him as he seemed to relax in relief.

“Yeah. I’m alright with it. Thank you, Logan.”

Dee’s voice was a barely there whisper of sound, slightly strained from the pain and exhaustion he was likely feeling.

Logan’s body throbbed a little in sympathy as he gave an affirming nod before returning his attention, reluctantly, towards Virgil.

His friend nodded as well, still looking at him with that same frustrating expression as he spoke.

“I’m okay with it too. Thanks, Lo.”

Virgil huffed out a little laugh again.

One that made Logan want to scream and run forward to strike the chest it was pushed out of.

“I really don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Suffer.”

The word fell out of his mouth before he could stop it.

Virgil gave a single, surprised, blink before bursting out another, slightly hardier, laugh that was matched by the silently shaking shoulders of his now smiling companion.

Logan huffed, irritated, and turned away to continue tapping at his tablet in peace.

He, dutifully, ignored the slightly wet quality to his best friend’s laugh and waved his hand briefly as he called back to him and the gaggle of lawyers still surrounding him.

“Take care of the paperwork! We only have approximately ten minutes before the authorities arrive!”

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

Hours later, after the paperwork was finished and they’d finally been released by the authorities and the hospital alike, Logan found himself in a large and mostly empty mansion.

It was clean and stocked with all of the essentials.

He’d made sure of that while they’d all been temporarily accosted at the police station to give testimonies.

His father had gone home, along with the lawyers, as soon as they were all released from the hospital.

And Logan had, naturally, gone with Virgil and Dee to the property that would now be Virgil’s home.

Upon their arrival, Dee had fled to find a room with a bed he could sleep on, Virgil giving him a quiet goodnight before wandering further into the mansion in silence.

And Logan, without much thought or hesitation, followed him.

Neither of them spoke as they walked the considerable distance within the mansion.

Until they reached an ornate black and silver door that Virgil opened to reveal a room filled with curtained windows.

It was a beautiful and immaculate bedroom.

With a large sitting area filled with plush couches and pristine tabletops, what was likely a wonderfully luxurious en suite bathroom, a walk in closet that was likely to be just as decadent in size and furnishing, and an overly large bed covered in impossibly soft black and purple fabrics that took up a rather large corner of the room which was hidden partially out of sight by some hanging privacy curtains.

“They brought me here once.”

Virgil’s voice echoed in the overly large and opulent space.

“I didn’t see them at all until we had to go home.”

It made the room seem even bigger than it actually was.

“I picked this room out myself and stayed here, pretty much, the entire time.”

Virgil walked silently over to the window’s closed curtains and stopped beside a silver lever on the wall.

“Cus the view here’s the best in the house.”

The lever was pulled and the sound of old but still functioning mechanisms filled the echoing silence as the curtains steadily opened.

And Logan understood exactly what Virgil meant.

On the other side of the windows, which took up an entire wall of the room, was a small and isolated garden surrounded by high stone walls and illuminated by the light of the night’s full moon.

Within the garden was a pond with a gently streaming waterfall, the water crystal clear and still in a way that seemed almost unnatural, allowing it to reflect the starry sky above it.

A large and gently swaying willow tree overlooked the pond, some of it’s branches gently lapping at the water’s surface.

Small white flowers dotted the soft grass that covered the ground, and vines covered in jasmine blossoms climbed lazily over the stone walls surrounding it all.

The sight was breathtaking.

“I didn’t think I’d see this place again.”

Logan couldn’t see Virgil’s face from where he was standing.

But he knew his best friend.

Even though he’d changed over the years.

He was still Virgil.

He was still that kind boy with sharp eyes and soft smiles.

So Logan didn’t have to see his face to know what it looked like.

He didn’t have to see the tears to know that they were falling.

And he didn’t have to hear the words to know what Virgil needed.

There was no uncertainty in his movements when he wrapped his arms around his taller friend.

The difference in height made his hands shake though.

The muscled torso made his chest tighten painfully.

“Logan…”

The deep voice brought a prickling heat to the back of his eyes.

And his throat closed up as the man he hadn’t seen in years turned around in his arms to face him.

Tears fell steadily from familiar sharp eyes and trembling lips were pulled into the same soft smile that had left him forever spoiled for everyone else.

“Thank you for bringing me home.”

Overly strong arms wrapped gently around him.

A familiar and steady heartbeat thumped soothingly through the warm chest he was pressed against.

An overwhelming feeling of safety and belonging washed over him in a wave of familiarity and comfort he hadn’t experienced in over six years.

And, finally, for the first time in a very very long time, Logan let himself go.

“I’M SORRY!”

The words fell out as a sob, his body shaking violently as he pressed even closer to the best friend he’d thought he’d lost.

Virgil’s arms only tightened further around him as he cried, letting out familiar warbling sounds of comfort that only made him cry harder.

And the strong man his best friend had become wrapped himself around Logan’s shaking form as if to protect him from the world they both knew was far too cruel.

Just as he always had.

((((((((((((((((((((()))))))))))))))))))))

(This was not going to be anywhere near as emotional as it ended up being.)

(But then I actually started writing it and thinking over the actual plot and realized, “Oh man. This is actually a really emotional situation no matter how you slice it.”)

(So it had to be emotional for plot reaasons.)

(But I think that’s okay.)

(It’s sweet in it’s own way and I really enjoyed writing some platonic analogical love.)

(So, yeah, there’s that.)

(Anyways.)

(Here’s the gen taglist.)

 @a-snoway-afternoon @ashrain5 @virgilscat @gumdrop2113@chelama @dragonsight9 @marse-422 @derpiest-unicorn @i-identify-as-a-mango @fearfilledvirgil @let-me-be-an-individual-rachet @blitzgamev @the-life-ofa-troubled-ace @satanblessi @punsterterry

(Please inform me if you’d like to be added or taken off of the general writing taglist or if you’d like to be added to the series taglist instead or something.)

(Here’s the link bed.)

A Bed of Links:

Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/Cerillen

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerillen/pseuds/Cerillen

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Discord: https://discord.gg/FsUhc5f

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(Eek-talk/words/language)