#careful with that elder don't break his bones

[shatinn]

Sims 4 super sim gameplay - wolf edition

[messenger-of-babel]

Doorstep Ghosts

Summary: Dick takes you into his apartment when you appear on his doorstep, unable to cope with the recent accident. (Dick Grayson x reader)

Word Count: 1.9K

Notes: Is this even angst anymore? I don’t know. I might have missed the mark a little bit. Warning for sensitive topics and alluded to mentions of suicide. Maddd survivors guilt. If you are triggered I’d suggest to avoid all together just in case. If you are feeling that way, please reach out to someone and call the panic line in your country. There's always someone willing to listen. <3

I had to try and research the difference of whump vs. angst and I still don’t fully understand so I’m just gonna run off of vibes. This might classify more as hurt/comfort actually. Waah idk. Much love, RiRi~ xx

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Since the accident, Dick had been keeping close tabs on you.

He had asked Tim if Red Robin could keep a tab on you, even though Tim had his own ordeals to handle back in Gotham. Bruce had even chipped in when Dick asked, transferring him some money so Dick could move you into a safer apartment. Dick hated taking Bruce's money, he could do fine without it, and quite frankly he didn't want to take what he hadn't worked for himself. However, when it came to your safety, he put that aside for a moment. He wasn't going to risk it, so within the week you were in a nicer part of Bludhaven with a state-of-the-art security system secretly set up to ping him if anything went wrong.

He had been so careful, so meticulous about making sure that you were okay that when you appeared on his front step one night, soaked through to the bone and dripping on his doorstep he was stunned. Your eyes were red rimmed and puffy, snot building in your swollen nose. Your arms hugged around yourself to bite back the chill of winter, hair matted to your forehead.

"Can I come in?" you sniffle, quaking. Wordlessly he steps back, arm opening to usher you in and shut the door behind you. His mind is reeling, unsure how you managed to find your way here, halfway across town, without him or anyone back in Gotham noticing. He frowns softly, pulling you into the living room and disappearing to find you a towel. Bringing two fresh ones back, he hands one to you and unfurls the other. Softly he begins to dry your hair while you wipe down the rest of your body, jacket peeling away and making a wet plop on the floor next to you. "It's unsafe for you to be out, especially this late at night. How did you even get here?" He murmurs, squeezing the water from your scalp.

"I took the train." you say back weakly, voice crackly from hours of crying. His frown deepens, fingers clenching in concern.

"You know the train is dangerous on the best of days. No way to get off or go anywhere if something escalates. Not to mention, only gangs use the rail this late. You know better, why didn't you call me?" he chides softly, flinching at the way you hang your head at his tone. he hadn't meant for it to come out like that, he was just concerned for your safety.

"I didn't want to bother you," you sniffle back. "Not to come get me."

"It worries me more when you don't let me come get you. If you wanted company, I would have come to your place-"

"No." you say firmly, towel wrapped around your shoulders and voice firm. "Anywhere but there, anywhere else just not-" you cut yourself off, biting on your lip harshly. He turns you to face him, hands soft as they grip your shoulders.

"No what?" he asks softly. "Come on sweetheart, you gotta work with me here."

"It doesn't feel like home. It's not-" you begin to break into a sob again, and he sighs while rubbing your shoulders.

Home.

He knows how badly you want to go home to your old apartment. The one you had moved into the very first day you set foot into Bludhaven and poured your heart and soul into. The one that you shared with your elder brother, or had.

"I know. But you can't go back there sweetheart," he murmurs, thumbs running small circles over your skin. "It's an active crime scene, and it's unsafe-"

"It's home." you say weakly, hands coming up to wipe at your eyes. "I just want to go home, want to go to my bed in my room."

"You do have a room," he tries to soothe. "I made sure we found you somewhere nice and big, where you can take the master bedroom and have all the freedom to do what you want with decorating it, just like you always wanted."

He can't stand the way his voice sounds so condescending, as if throwing money at the problem as going to make the wound in your heart heal over. He knew it couldn't erase the horrors that you saw or fix the gaping hole in your life. He knew it wasn't going to bring your brother back, but he couldn't find the right words to take the pain away.

"What did you come here for?" he asks gently, crouching down in front of you so he can meet your gaze, heart clenching at the way you hang your head to hide your face. "I've got the spare bed made, or you can share mine. I'll even sleep in the spare room if you want it to yourself, you know I've got the best mattress." He tries to make a teasing remark, but it wavers with uncertainty.

"I…I was thinking." you murmur, hands beginning to quake. His eyebrows furrow, hands coming to grip yours.

"Thinking?" he inquires softly, not liking the ton of your voice.

"If I had been me instead." you hoarsely whisper, making panic flare through his chest.

"It's lucky it wasn't." he counters quickly. "This wasn't your fault, and it wouldn't have made anything better. You're here still, and that means you keep fighting." he stresses, thumbs tracing the back of your hand.

"It wasn’t lucky for him though," you say, voice trembling badly. "It was my fault it happened; it was all my fault. I'm the one who took the photographs of the deal and gave it to him, I'm the one who said he needed to stand up to other police on the force, I'm the one who said he should try to go against the corrupt ones. He took my advice, and it got him killed."

"Sweetheart, no." he tries to stop your rambling. "Listen-"

"It should have been me." you finally sob. "It should have been me, I don't know how I'm supposed to just keep going when all I want is to be with him again." you cry, breath coming out in chokes and eyes clenching shut. Your hands shake in his grip, trying to catch your breath in between sobs. "I want so badly to see him again." you manage to whisper out, voice tight. "I wanna follow, I just want to go."

Dick stands to his full height upon hearing that, pulling you tight. He buries his face in your hair, one arm coming around your back to press you firmly against him, the other on the back of your head. "Stop that." he says firmly. "We don't talk like that; we don't give into those thoughts." His voice comes out stern, but the sharpness of his words is dulled by the panic they're wrapped in.

"I... I know…" you choke out. "I’m... I’m confused Dick. I was convinced but then I got scared about it and I-I…" you trail off, breathing becoming quick and broken by hiccups. "I ran all the way here. I'm a coward, but in that moment, I just felt-"

"Scared." he finishes softly, hand softly petting your damp hair. "You were scared."

You nod against him, sniffling into his worn sleep shirt. "I don't know what to do. I don’t know where to go, where to turn." you whisper fearfully. Dick tightens his arms around you, senses dulling around him as he focuses on you. The sharp intakes of your breath, the erratic ticking of your pulse. "You stay here." he says softly. "With me. You tell me when you're having those thoughts, and I'll make them go away. You won't have to be scared, not when you're with me."

"And when you're not with me?" you ask quietly. He frowns at that, pulling back slightly to look at you.

"Sweetheart," he says adoringly, the faint traces of a warm smile gracing his lips. "Even if you can't see me, I'll always be with you."

Your eyes water more, and you let your head fall forward again. "When you have no one else to turn to, don't forget that you can turn back." he murmurs gently. "Because I'll always be behind you. Always, every step of the way." you say nothing back for a moment, but he holds you as you shake.

"Why?" you ask softly, hiccupping.

"Because I love you." he replies instantly, and you look up at him. Your eyes ware nearly swollen shut from the amount of crying you've been doing, and quite frankly, a mess. "I love you." he repeats. "So don't you dare try to leave, okay?" his own voice wavers, eyes clouding with a sheen of concern. More and more under his soothing you begin to relax, until you're barely standing by yourself. He guides you to bed, helping you change out of the wet clothes and into some of his freshly laundered ones before slipping you under the sheets. He gives you your favourite side of the bed before following suit.

As soon as your head hits the pillow you're out like a light, hand still gripping his softly. He adjusts so he's comfortable, not letting your hand go. With a soft sigh he stares at your worried and beaten form, the worry lines that have formed on your forehead and the bags that have developed under your eyes. You look exhausted, with faint tremors even as your breath evens and you fall deeper into sleep.

He can't even begin to comprehend the horrors that you had seen coming back from work that night, entering your apartment as usual only to walk in on a gruesome scene like that. he had seen it himself, as Nightwing. He had only seen the aftermath though, once the body had already been taken away. He never got to see the body, never saw the carnage that undoubtably the mob had left behind. What he had seen though was the blood splatters over the wall, and the array of household items that were being bagged for murder weapons. He had seen the message scrawled on the wall, crimson letters dripping with a warning. He had seen you, sitting with the paramedics as you stared off into the distance, eyes unseeing as they draped a shock blanket over your shoulders.

He moved himself closer to you, pulling you into him. He wasn’t going to let something like that happen to you, not if he could help it. he was Nightwing, if anything, he should have the power to stop these things. However, the fear that it would slip through his fingers plagued the back of his mind, the nightmare of you fading away like your brother bouncing around painfully inside his skull. He couldn't bear to lose you, not to the mob, not to yourself. He takes a deep breath to try and control his own emotions, careful not to wake you up. As he exhales through his nose, he lets himself relax slightly, gently snaking an arm over you for extra protection. He doubted he'd be sleeping very deeply tonight, but it was the price he was willing to pay to keep you safe.

He'd do it every night for the rest of his life if it meant keeping you by his side, keeping the flickering flame in your heart alive.

He'd keep his arms around you till eternity ended, just so you could know that even if you didn't think you had anyone, you would know you had him.

That is the thought that finally lets Dick flutter into sleep quietly himself, room filling with the sound of the rain outside and the quiet duet of even breaths.

[hoshinasblade]

your wedding to hoshina soshiro is tomorrow and although the elders have forced to put you in separate rooms - the superstition specifies that the groom is to not see the bride the night before the ceremony - your restless feet had found themselves in front of the suite your husband-to-be is staying at. after all, it won't be the first time you had broken tradition for love and you can feel it in your bones that it won't be the last time either.

you knocked at the door thrice, hoping that's enough to call hoshina's attention; praying that he is actually inside, and not at some bachelor party where you are well aware almost always involves indecent acts.

"hey," hoshina greeted you as he beckoned you to come in. "i missed you today," he said and the confession painted your cheeks pink. "did you need anything?" hoshina's hands attempted to capture yours but upon noticing you were holding a box in them, he settled in noting the slight tremble in your movements. it offered him a little consolation that it seems he isn't the only one anxious for the event the next morning.

"i have something for you", you told him as you presented the box. the box was a bit bigger than your own torso, covered in brown paper that tore easily as he opened it. inside is a tantō, custom made, he realised as he noticed the embossed name near the handle of the blade. the metal is cold to his touch, and perhaps if he applied more pressure, he could cut himself. "do you like it?" you asked giddily.

hoshina couldn't answer right away. in the past, people had certainly given him gifts, but not as thoughtful - as breathtaking - as this one. "you didn't have to -"

"it's a gift," you interrupted him as you closed the distance between the two of you. when you started dating hoshina, you had always been annoyed at the height difference - you hated having to always look up to him. that's fine, that just means i get to look after you all the time, he answered you. "don't think i won't use it to dice you down if you mess up though," you added which earned a chuckle from hoshina.

"i thought i already promised that i won't break your heart." hoshina grabbed your hands now and he can feel the loud pulse on your wrist. even our heartbeats are in sync, he wanted to say. "i'll take care of you."

your silence was enough of a response. the tantō remained in the box on the floor that night, a symbol of how you had given hoshina soshiro a literal weapon - to protect you or to hurt you, only he could decide on. maybe love works exactly like that, you'd like to think - giving someone the key to destroying us all the while praying they do the opposite.

the elders scolded you the next day, endless mutters of bad luck because you stayed the night with hoshina but you didn't care - you had made up your mind that you will spend your lifetime with him anyway, what's one more night to add to forever?

honorary tagging my bestie again @umafanfiqueiraqualquer 😁

[lucifersdickriderdotnet]

Emergency Contact

Summary: Having siblings sucks. Having siblings who are constantly getting into life threatening situations is worse. 5.9k words.

Disclaimer: as usual, if they're ooc no. uhm. Diavolo and Barbatos are here and they are referred to as Lucifer's boyfriends but it's in like a fun jokey teasing way that siblings do. except Lucifer actually is dating Diavolo in my head so. asmo and solomon ARE dating because I want them to be. maybe next time I'll make solomon date satan. you can only call a man a cute kitty so many times before people get ideas. if you couldn't tell by the title and the summary, people get #sick and break their #bones. oh. there is one (1) cannibalism joke. not demoncest just bros being bros.

Notes: this took so long because I've never written a decent ending in my life and i spent two days on it. also that anon really pissed me off for some reason idk. if you don't like how anyone is characterized write your own fanfiction man idk. solmare doesn't even have consistency with this nonsense. Lucifer is nice to his brothers in this because I want him to be. amen.

It’s a little known fact that Lucifer is everyone’s emergency contact. When it comes to those he cares about, he is protective, almost annoyingly so. So, it makes sense that the person who knows everything about everyone should be in charge if something goes awry. His phone hardly ever rings for emergencies, half because his brothers’ manage to get themselves out of trouble through a series of convoluted and confusing hijinks and half because most of them would rather eat nails than call him to tell him something is wrong. He’s even Barbatos’ emergency contact, despite the fact that Barbatos has never been sick or injured.

When his phone does ring, though, it’s almost always because someone has managed to damage themselves beyond repair, which is why he’s staring at the caller id on his D.D.D. like he can make it stop ringing if he glares hard enough.

“Lucifer Morningstar speaking,” it hadn’t stopped ringing and Diavolo had almost reached across the table to answer it for him.

“Hello this is Devildom General Hospital. We received a patient today and your name was on his–”

“Who.” It comes out dull and flat. He’s gripping his fork so hard he can hear the metal squeak.

“Excuse me?” The demon on the other end of the phone sounds perfectly polite but Lucifer is already so strung out all it does is grate his nerves.

“Who are you calling for?”

“Mam–”

“I’ll be right there,” he’s standing up in a hurry, grabbing his jacket off the back of his chair and ignoring Diavolo’s many questions as he leaves their dinner.

“Sir, if you’ll just–” he hangs up before the nurse can say anything else.

-

Mammon managed to break a bone or two in a scuffle he won’t tell Lucifer the details of.

“Do you know how hard it is to break a femur, Mammon?” Lucifer is gripping the steering wheel of the car so hard he’s surprised it hasn’t snapped in half.

“Pretty damn hard, all things considerin’.” Lucifer exhales sharply out of his nose and looks at his brother from the corner of his eye. He’s staring out of the window, and the white of his hair is dirty with mud and something red that Lucifer knows didn’t come out of his skull but worries him regardless.

“Mammon, this isn’t something to joke about.”

“I know,” he taps the hard cast of his leg with a bruised knuckle, “‘m the one with the broken bones.”

“If you know why are you doing it?” Lucifer can’t stop his voice from raising a few decibels towards the end of his sentence and has to mentally count to ten to not start screaming.

“‘Cause I just got the shit beat outta me ‘n’ I don’t wanna listen to yer lecturin’.” Mammon finally turns his head to stare at Lucifer and the elder looks away from the road for a second to meet his eyes. It’s not often that Mammon genuinely argues with him, not often that Mammon gets mad enough to let the blue of his eyes light with fury. Whatever happened tonight was not something that he wanted to happen, and it’s not something he needs a scolding for.

There’s a tense silence where Lucifer sighs and then flicks the turn signal, sliding across the lanes of traffic to take Mammon somewhere else before they go home.

“Did you win?” He’s pulling into Madame Screams’ drive through when he asks.

“‘Course I did.”

“Good.”

They both silently agree not to tell the rest of them about their little pit stop, and it’s as Lucifer’s pulling into the garage that he turns to his brother.

“Mammon.” A hum sounds from the passenger seat. “Next time, call me yourself. I don’t want it to be the hospital unless you’re physically incapable of talking.”

“Roger that.”

—

Lucifer is not known as the most comforting of his brothers. The six of them tend to rely on each other for that, going to Mammon or Beel if they have emotional troubles. Lucifer, as the oldest, is good for cleaning up messes. Putting things back together and making it look like nothing was ever amiss in the first place. It’s his job to protect them, from the world and from themselves, and he takes it seriously. Still, despite his brick wall in place of a heart and his general ineptitude when it comes to being affirming in any sense, he is not incapable of helping his brothers out of a tight spot. He’s just not preferred.

“Lucifer,” Levi’s voice is shaky and stuttering on the other end of the phone. He knew something was wrong when his phone started ringing in the middle of class. His brothers all know how much he hates distractions during class time, just like they know when he has a class so they don’t bother him. He knew something was worse when it was Levi’s name flashing across the screen. Levi refuses to call any of them unless the world is ending. He knew something was horrible when he remembered that today was one of the few days that Levi is mandated to come to campus.

“Yes?” He’s already left class walking down the hallway towards the abandoned wing where he knows Levi is. He keeps his steps measured and even, keeps his breathing calm. It won’t do to have two of them panicked at the same time.

“Are you busy?” They both know the answer to that question, just like they both know he’s going to lie.

“You caught me in the middle of a break. Why?” He tests the door handle for the swimming pool. Closed for renovations, the sign says. The same thing it’s said for the past several millennia. The door swings open without any effort on his part, the magic seal already broken before he got here.

“Would you like to go for a swim?” There’s a splash on the other end of the line. Lucifer snorts.

“I’m not one for water.” There’s silence and another splash and Lucifer lets out a heavy sigh. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt.”

“Yay,” Levi says, soft and timid, and Lucifer can see him now, all of him, filling up the entire pool. He doesn’t get in yet, just removes a glove and sticks a finger in the water to let Levi know he’s here. He watches as the miles and miles of indigo scales shift and slide along each other until he’s face to face with thousands of sharp teeth.

“You’re going to break the pool again,” is what he says, voice dry. He sputters indignantly when that earns him salt water to the face. He’s soaked now, head to toe and he’s going to miss these shoes.

“Oops.” Levi’s voice is sprinkled with something mirthful, no longer halfway to tears as it was just a moment ago. “Get in. The water’s nice.”

“Yes,” Lucifer swipes a hand across his face to push his bangs back. Salt water drips into his eyes anyway. “I can see that.” 

Levi giggles and his face moves away, body coiling in, on, and over itself, too big to fully fit in the pool.

“You said you’d swim with me.”

“Yes. I suppose I did.”

Truthfully, Lucifer doesn’t like swimming. He is not a bird that is built for water, and getting wet usually means being cold and grounded for a while. Truthfully, he’d rather finally open one of the many letters Michael has sent him over the years. Truthfully, he would do anything for his brothers. Truthfully, Lucifer doesn’t think he’ll fit, but a promise is a promise, so he slides out of his uniform and climbs in.

Levi doesn’t ever tell him what made him so upset he rebroke R.A.D. 's pool, but he does leave a box of Princess’ Poison Apples on his desk the next morning, so Lucifer sets his sights on re-fixing the swimming pool. Maybe this time he’ll convince Diavolo to make it bigger.

—

Satan would rather rip his own teeth out with nothing but a Q-tip and a single milligram of ibuprofen to numb the pain than ever ask Lucifer for help. Their relationship is getting better, he will admit, but he’s filled with a rage towards the oldest that could melt even the strongest of metals, and it will take a while to temper the flame. So, no, he will not ask Lucifer for help, but, if he’s annoying enough about it, Lucifer will fix it anyways.

He starts by mentioning it to Asmo, squinting at him and saying that no, he can’t tell if Asmo’s eyeliner is uneven, because he can’t see.

“Can’t see?” Manicured fingernails are digging into his cheeks as Asmo grips his face and moves his head from side to side. He has to shelve books in his mind’s inner library to not rip his brother’s face clean off his head. 

“Doesn’t look like cataracts or anything,” Asmo hums, dropping his face. Satan massages his jaw slightly. “What do you mean you ‘can’t see’?”

“I meant what I said. Your face is slightly blurry and I can’t tell if your eyeliner is even because it just looks like a blob. Ergo. I can’t see.” Satan crosses his arms over his chest and dodges Asmo’s subsequent grabs for his face.

“Oh,” a snort, “you probably need glasses.” He turns back around to his vanity and Satan has to stop himself from saying no shit out loud.

“Glasses are for losers.”

“Lucifer wears glasses.”

“My point exactly.” Asmo twists his lipstick back down before popping the cap on and pulling open a drawer. He gestures for Satan to look inside and he does and–

“I didn’t know you wore contacts.”

“Not very many people do. Mammon has glasses too, you know. He’s sensitive to bright lights. The sunglasses indoors are not just a poor fashion statement,” Asmo sighs and shakes his head, like the image of Mammon wearing his sunglasses inside brings him physical pain. “And, I think Levi has some because all of those screens destroyed his rods and cones.”

“Oh. I’m sorry for calling you a loser.” Asmo waves him off.

“The point, Bitty, is that you wouldn’t be the first.” It wouldn’t be just you and Lucifer is what he’s saying. Satan nods and then frowns.

“I told you to stop calling me that.”

“Why?” Asmo reaches over to poke his cheek. He narrowly avoids getting a finger bitten off. His voice rises several octaves, turning into a coo. “You’re just an itty bitty baby– Ow, dammit fine.”

-

He then proceeds to complain about it as loudly as possible, as frequently as possible. No, he can’t help Mammon with his homework, the words are bleeding together. Yes, he does have to sit front and center now because otherwise the board is unreadable. No, he did not catch that last slanderous missive about Lucifer in the R.A.D. Newspaper because he couldn’t read the draft that was sent to him for editing. (He made Belphie read the drafts to him out loud and thought that the article was funny.)

“Satan,” everytime Lucifer has to talk to him he looks constipated and it makes Satan laugh inside.

“Big Bother.” Lucifer’s eye twitches.

“You have an appointment with the optometrist. Get in the car.” Satan sets his book down.

“Can’t Mammon take me?” He doesn’t want Mammon to take him. Still, it’s funny to see the vein pop on Lucifer’s forehead.

“... Get in the fucking car.”

Satan plays heavy metal in the car because he knows Lucifer hates it and makes him sit in the lobby during the actual check up because he thinks it’s funny to watch his leg bounce up and down. (And because Lucifer gets a copy of all of their medical records anyway. The freak probably checked Satan’s eyes himself while he was sleeping and already knows his prescription.)

“Those glasses look nice on you,” is all Lucifer says when he picks out the frames.

“I changed my mind. I hate these ones.” (He doesn’t.)

—

He’d been in his room, up to his eyes in paperwork when his phone rang. It’s not unusual for Asmo to call him, the younger always wanting to chat and gossip for as long as Lucifer will pretend to listen, but it is unusual for him to call in the middle of an Asmo Night.

“Hi Asmo, what–”

“Lucy!!” He has to pull the phone away from his ear to avoid rupturing the drum.

“I believe I have asked you not to–”

“Hey! Give me my–” There’s a scuffle on the other end before a voice that Lucifer recognizes as Solomon’s starts speaking.

“Lucifer! I believe Asmodeus has had enough for tonight and needs to be deposited home. I would do it myself, but as per our agreement, I am not allowed–”

“Within twenty feet of my front door. Yes, I know. I’ll come get him. Please keep him out of trouble until I get there.” He rubs the bridge of his nose before standing up and making his way to the door.

“Wonderful! Now, about that pact–” Lucifer hangs up before Solomon can finish the question and hits Levi’s door on the way down the stairs.

“Bed, Leviathan.” There’s a small squeak in response. “Or at least pretend to be sleeping. I can hear your game from out here.” The RPG music leaking from Levi’s room into the hallway quiets drastically.

He stops by the kitchen to find Asmo his crackers and a bottle of water before leaving, instructing Beel to carry himself and Belphie to bed on his way out.

Lucifer does not like parties. He thinks they are loud and annoying and too many people try to get handsy with him when really all he wants is to drink his Demonus in peace. He’s dealing with that now, batting off people’s hands and ignoring requests for a night alone as he makes his way to Asmo’s booth.

“Asmo,” Solomon’s voice is soft and fond as he rouses Asmo from a short nap, “Lucifer’s here. It’s time to go.”

“Mmkay.” Asmo rubs his eyes and gives Solomon a peck on the lips that Lucifer has to fight the urge to gag at. He crawls out of the booth and grabs Lucifer’s hand, and somehow the crowd parts to let him past with no fuss. They barely make it outside before Asmo is hurling all over the sidewalk and Lucifer is remembering that Asmo smells like warm, sugared peaches.

Asmo smells like peaches. Allegedly, he smells like whatever is the most alluring to you, but Lucifer thinks he has always smelled like peaches. He smells like the holy peach cobbler that Michael used to make in the Celestial Realm. Asmo smells like the peach flavored macarons that Barbatos makes when he and Lucifer have tea. He smells like the Georgia peaches the human made him try once. Asmo smells like peaches, he smells like home and love and care, and you would have to hold Lucifer at gunpoint to get him to admit this to his brother.

And now, Lucifer is getting a face full of that smell mixed with vomit as Asmo leans over a bush and loses whatever meager dinner Beel had shoved in him as well as half his body weight in alcohol. There’s a flash from the corner of his eye and he makes a mental note to follow up on that.

“It will sound hypocritical coming from me,” he starts and is promptly interrupted by another retch.

“Then don’t–good Diavolo, that tastes awful–say it.” Asmo takes the water bottle that Lucifer dutifully hands him and rinses his mouth out.

“Are you done?” Lucifer starts fishing around his jacket pocket for a pack of Asmo’s favorite crackers. They taste like flowers, allegedly, and they're one of the few things that Beel genuinely doesn’t like to eat.

“For now.” Asmo takes the crackers and starts munching on them gratefully, leaning heavily into Lucifer’s side as they both walk home.

“Thank you for coming,” he says. Lucifer scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“I would never leave one of you alone.”

“Aww, that’s so–”

“The paperwork alone would take at least a decade.”

“Nevermind.”

-

If Lucifer hunts down the demon who took the picture and threatens them within an inch of their life, that’s between him and his Father. And if Asmo finds out and gives Lucifer a hug at breakfast the following morning, that’s between him and Mammon’s camera roll.

—

Lucifer hates Fangol. Well, that’s not true. He admires the dedication someone has to have to play it and to play it well. He admits that sometimes it’s fun to go to games and get caught up in the hype of the crowd. He also likes that it makes Beel happy. What he doesn’t like is sitting in the stands as his second youngest brother makes a game winning play and then gets tackled onto the turf so hard you can hear the sound his head makes when it hits the ground.

The crowd goes silent and the players and the band take a knee and Lucifer is half dragging half carrying Belphie down the stands to the ambulance as the EMT’s check over their brother.

“Sir, I understand–” The paramedic cuts themself off when they see whose shadows are looming over them. They heave a sigh and gesture to a patch of grass near where they have Beel laying on a gurney. “Try to avoid being in our way.”

It’s a fight to keep Belphie from being underfoot, but there isn’t one when Lucifer says he’s riding in the ambulance with Beel to the hospital. Only a curt nod and then a muttered threat in his ear that he rolls his eyes at and then their off.

“Sorry.” It’s the first thing out of Beel’s mouth after he’s done being asked routine questions.

“It’s not like you asked to receive a concussion.”

“We don’t know that it’s a concussion,” Beel says, wagging his finger slowly. Lucifer rolls his eyes.

“You told the paramedic you wanted to throw up and pass out at the same time.”

“Average Beelzebub activities.” It makes Lucifer snort, lips twitching up into a smile.

“That is the exact opposite of a Beelzebub activity. You’ll be okay, though.” The you have to be goes unsaid.

It turns out to be a concussion and Beel is barred from playing for a while and then everything is fine.

-

Lucifer has changed his mind, he definitely hates Fangol. He has half a mind to ban Beel from ever playing it again, but if he didn’t have something to focus his energy on, they wouldn’t have a House to live in.

He stayed home from the game, wanting to relax, for once, with a new cursed record and a bottle of his prized Demonus. He might have also paused the record to watch the stream of the game on his phone, but that’s neither here nor there. He’s busy cussing out one of the commentators for their clear bias against Beel–they haven’t been angels in literally thousands of years, people need to find a new excuse–when it cuts suddenly from a replay of the last down to a live feed from the field. And then his phone rings.

“Mammon,” he already knows what happened before he picks up.

“I know ya said not ta call ya tonight, but,” he sounds haggard, and his accent gets thicker when he’s panicking, “ya also said not ta let the hospital call ya so–”

“Mammon,” it comes out snappier than he wants it to and he has to soften his voice when he opens his mouth again, “breathe. What’s happened?”

“Dear Father who art in Heaven–” Lucifer curses again because Mammon only reverts to praying when something is seriously wrong. “Beel got tackled ‘nd– Lucifer, ya could hear the crunch from Diavolo’s good seats.” Lucifer sucks in a breath and considers sending up a couple prayers himself.

“I’m on my way. Beel will– Beel will be okay, Mammon. He’s strong.” He hears Mammon’s assent from the other end of the line just as he hears Levi mumble something to Mammon.

“Oh, yer kiddin’.”

“What? Mammon, what’s going on?”

“We can’t fin’ Belphie.”

“Shit.”

-

If Lucifer breaks traffic laws on his way to the stadium, no one who pulls him over will be able to make anything stick for very long. He watches as the ambulance pulls away and his D.D.D. buzzes with a message.

Mams

I went with Beel. Everyone’s still tryna find Belphie.

“Lucifer–” he’s met with an armful of brothers before he can put his phone back in his pocket and he’s not strong enough to pretend he doesn’t want to hug them back.

“Did you find–”

“No, obviously not Levi, he just fucking got here.”

“Satan, now is not the time–”

“I’ll decide when the fucking time is, Asmo. Did you see what they did to our–”

“Yeah, I was sitting right next to you. You’re not the only one who’s upset–”

“Guys,” Lucifer raises his voice above their arguing. “Now is not the time.” He hands Diavolo his keys, grateful, for once, at his many attempts to bond with his brothers. “Will you please take them to the hospital? I have a brother to find.”

It doesn’t take him long to find Belphie, but it does take a toll on his knees.

“Belphegor.” He wonders how the youngest climbed on top of the press box without anyone noticing.

“The stadium lights are too bright,” Belphie says, “you can’t see the stars. They drown them out. It’s a bad omen, Lucifer.”

“Belphegor, please come back down.”

“I can’t see them, Lucifer.” His voice is thick with tears.

“They’re still there, Belphie. I promise.”

“We made them together, and I can’t see them.”

“If you come back down we can visit Beel and the two of you can find them together.” Diavolo’s Father help him, he is not climbing on top of that box to bring Belphie down himself.

“Promise?”

“On my life.”

The bad thing about the press box for the R.A.D. stadium, is that the ladder has rusted away. People never go on top of it to watch or film the game anymore because they started to use magic to get the good camera angles. The bad thing about the press box is that when Belphie makes to climb down he slips and has nothing to grab and lands on the concrete stadium seating with a snap that makes Lucifer’s stomach churn.

-

“I can’t believe you fell while getting down. That’s like, one hundred times easier than goin’ up.” Mammon is beside himself with laughter while he doodles on Belphie’s cast.

“Haha. Laugh it up Mammon. When I’m out of this thing, I’m going to break every bone in your body.” Mammon rolls his eyes at Belphie’s threat.

“The witches have used that one before. Try again.”

“What are you, a magic eight ball?”

“Reply hazy. Try again later.”

“You know,” Asmo says from his spot opposite Mammon, doodling on Beel’s cast, “it is kind of cool that you guys managed to break the same bone.”

“It’s because we’re twins.” Beel says, smiling brightly.

“Yeah,” Satan snorts, “or cause you’re both stupid.”

“I’m just glad you’re both okay,” Levi cuts in before Belphie and Satan can start in on each other.

“Indeed. Although, I believe it’s best that Fangol is heading into its off season.” Lucifer says, and there’s noises of agreement throughout the room.

—

It’s a simple fact of life that Lucifer doesn’t get sick. The Demon King is asleep, the Earth’s year is 365 (365.25) days long, the Crown Prince of the Devildom hates pickles, Michael is a massive loser, and Lucifer doesn’t get sick. He does not get sick or injured or cursed or hexed or anything of the sort because he does not have the time. Except. Except he is most definitely sick right now.

Belphie realized something was wrong when Lucifer didn’t come down for breakfast. He’s a stickler for meal times, always wanting them to share a meal together. Something about family and tradition and will you just do what I say for once that Belphie doesn’t care about or want to listen to. He comes to breakfast and dinner and lunch on the weekends anyway, because Beel does, not because Lucifer wants him to. So, when he looks up from his spot at the table, the cloth permanently drool stained despite the oldest’s best efforts, and watches all of his brothers leave except Lucifer, he gets confused.

“Beel,” he asks, tilting his head just so, “did Lucifer have a meeting today?” Usually he would tell them. Several times throughout the week if it was planned and then again in the morning before he leaves. He’s weird like that, he doesn’t like not knowing where everyone is. Belphie thinks he’s a control freak, even if he finds knowing his brother’s whereabouts comforting.

“No,” Beel says this around a mouthful of muffin, “I don’t think so.”

“Hmm. Well. I guess we’ll see him at school.”

-

They do not, in fact, see him at school. Mammon shares first period with him, which means he can never skip the first hour and a half of R.A.D. Except today, there’s no harsh pokes in his back whenever he starts to zone out, and there’s no pointed coughs when he pulls out his phone and starts playing games. He looks around and there’s no Lucifer.

Demon Brothers

Mams: ayo. where is. lucifer.

Catan: he’s not in class?

Mams: if he was I wouldn’t be askin.

Catan: the phone screen makes you bold, brother. watch yourself.

Mams: o7 aye aye cap’n.

Beel: Belphie says he wasn’t at breakfast either

Mams: is belphie’s phone broke???

Beel: he says typing is too much effort

Mams: understandable have a nice day

Asmo: o.o Lucifer not at breakfast? But he’s always weird when we miss it!

Catan: typical Lucifer hypocrisy

Levs: you know he can still read this chat right?

Catan: when has that ever stopped me -_-

Levs: you guys have hit like all of the Summoning Lucifer Bullet Points

Levs: 1. Mention his name fifty times

Levs: 2. Blow up his phone

Levs: 3. Text during class time

Levs: 4. Slander him at least once

Levs: 5. Ask about his private business/goings on

Beel: and yet

Mams: no Lucifer

-

The real header comes during the afternoon, when Lucifer doesn’t show up to the scheduled Student Council Meeting.

“Alrighty!” Diavolo says, chipper as ever, “when Lucifer gets here, we’ll start the meeting. He has all of the paperwork, anyway.” 

So they wait. And they wait.

“Yo, dude,” Mammon calls to Diavolo and he turns his head, Barbatos coughs into his fist at the lack of formality. “I don’t think Lucifer is gonna show.”

“Yeah,” Belphie yawns, “he wasn’t in school today, either.”

“Or at breakfast, apparently.” Levi says, though it’s hard to hear him over the music of his game.

“That is. Odd. Is he still at home, then?” Diavolo pulls out his phone and starts texting.

“No use,” Asmo says, “we’ve been bothering him all day.”

“Privately and in the group chat,” Satan adds. “Though, he may not have opened my messages because they were all cursed.”

“He didn’t open mine either,” Beel says. “I think he’s just been off his phone.”

“Unusual,” Barbatos says, stepping out of his shadowy corner. “Perhaps something is amiss?”

“With Lucifer?” Asmo sounds incredulous, lowering his compact just long enough to arch an eyebrow at the butler before tapping more powder on his face. “Nothing is ever wrong with Lucifer.” Belphie yawns before nodding in agreement and adding his own two cents.

“Even when we curse him things aren’t wrong. He always manages to make it seem so … normal.”

“I remember that time his pants kept falling down,” Levi says. “I thought it would make him less intimidating. I was wrong.” He shudders. “Very wrong.”

“Then why isn’t he here?” Barbatos says, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Why does he do anythin’?” Mammon stands up as he says this, grabbing his bag and his phone and making his way towards the door. “Lucifer does what he wants and shows no remorse for it.” There’s a pause where he remembers the Fall. “Mosta the time.”

“Well, if we aren’t going to do anything,” Asmo’s compact shuts with a click, “I have people to do and things to see.”

“It’s ‘things to do and people to see’, Asmo,” Satan says, following his brothers out.

“I know what I said.”

Barbatos and Diavolo watch as the brothers leave, one by one, all citing different excuses before sharing a look.

“Is it rude to stop by people’s homes uninvited, Barbatos?” Diavolo asks, pushing his chair back.

“Yes. But in cases where Lucifer is concerned, manners and politeness have never stopped you, my Lord.” Barbatos follows behind the Prince, steps silent in contrast to the clacking of Diavolo’s shoes on the Academy’s stone floors. Diavolo’s laugh echoes throughout the hallway.

“I suppose you’re right. Come, I believe I must pay a visit to my right hand.”

“Always.”

-

The House is cold when Diavolo gets there. He can hear Beel rummaging in the kitchen, and Belphie’s soft snores accompanying him. He can hear Levi and Mammon fighting over something and he can hear the thud of books falling over in Satan’s room. He can hear Asmo because Asmo greets him when he enters.

“Oh, hey!” He waves excitedly, before pointing at his feet. “Which shoes do you think look better with this outfit?”

“I think they both look nice,” Diavolo replies and Asmo pouts.

“Not helpful.”

“The ones on your left, Asmodeus.” Barbatos’ eyes peer from behind Diavolo’s shoulder and Asmo smiles in response.

“Thanks! Hey,” he tugs the shoe on his right foot off and tosses it into a pile next to the door before grabbing his left foot’s twin from seemingly nowhere, “you guys didn’t see Solomon out there, did you?”

“I thought I told you that he isn’t allowed within twenty feet of the front door.” Lucifer’s normal baritone is raspy with sickness, vocal cords raw from coughing.

“He’s not going to be within twenty feet. He’s going to stand an inch outside of the barrier.” Asmo turns and places his hands on his brother’s shoulders, spinning him around and pushing him back towards the living room. “I also thought I told you to lie down and sleep. I suppose we both aren’t good at listening, hmm?” Lucifer grumbles at him despite following Asmo’s guidance to the couch.

“I heard the door open.” Diavolo follows the duo towards the living room, Barbatos his ever present shadow.

“There are six other people who can answer it.” He watches as Asmo pushes Lucifer into a sitting position and shoves blankets around him.

“That’s what I worry about.” Asmo rolls his eyes.

“Stop being a baby and just lay down. How can you catch Mammon and string him up by his toenails if you can’t go a second without coughing?”

“I can,” Lucifer pauses to cough, “I can take any one of you down, even in this weakened state.”

There’s a snort from the entrance to the kitchen as the twins walk in, Beel carrying soup and Belphie carrying nothing.

“You couldn’t block even the lowest level curse from Satan at this rate.” Belphie says, curling up on the couch next to Lucifer and resting his head on his lap.

“I could–”

“You’re very strong, Lucifer,” Asmo placates, patting his older brother’s head condescendingly. “Now, eat your soup and shut up. I have a date to get to and I’m running late.”

“Maybe I should cough on you so you can’t go anymore.” The threat is empty, but Asmo’s smile still sharpens in response.

“Maybe I should take a seam ripper to all of your clothes,” he turns on his heel. “Oh, also. Diavolo is here.” The responding squawk Lucifer lets out sends him into another coughing fit, one that disrupts the sleeping Belphie on his lap.

“My Lord,” Lucifer makes to get up and is physically yanked back down by Belphie, “I apologize for not greeting you earlier.”

“No worries! You didn’t show up to the meeting today, and you weren’t answering your phone, so I stopped by to see how you were.” Diavolo gestures to the bottles of cold medicine on the coffee table and the bowl of soup being shoved at Lucifer by Beel. “It seems you are all taken care of.”

“Indeed. I appreciate your concern–”

“Beel, Lucifer’s boyfriend was worried about him. Isn’t that sweet?” Beel nods at Belphie’s joke, resting his head against the side of Lucifer’s knee from his newly acquired spot on the floor.

“The sweetest. Someone tell Asmo he’s being beaten in the best boyfriend competition.” There’s twin thunks as Lucifer smacks the both of them on the head, face now flushed with something other than fever.

“That’s enough out of you two.” He sighs and looks back up at Diavolo and Barbatos. “Would the two of you like to stay for dinner? Satan’s in charge tonight and he likely won’t poison it since I’m too ill to eat much of anything.”

“That would be wonderful, thank you.” Diavolo sits in an empty armchair that he thinks is Lucifer’s regular seat when his phone buzzes.

Emergency Chat ONLY

Belphie: hey satan, lucifer’s boyfriend is staying for dinner

Catan: man. now I can’t put this human world poison I found in it.

Belphie: probably wouldn’t work anyway

Beel: Barbatos is also staying

Belphie: my apologies Beel. you’re right

Belphie: lucifer’s boyfriendS are staying for dinner

Levs: this is great

Levs: I wanted to talk to Diavolo about the new chapter of the manga we’re reading

Mams: the rule is no loser talk at the dinner table

Levs: why do you open your mouth so much then

Mams: i’m gonna fucken get you

Asmo: if Lucifer gets to bring his boyfriends why can’t i bring Solomon

Catan: because Solomon sucks.

Catan: actually

Catan: would Solomon be able to con a fever high Lucifer into a pact

Mams: the downside here is that Solomon would be at dinner

Beel: I’d lose my appetite

Asmo: he’s not that bad

Asmo: and don’t lie Beel

Asmo: we aren’t going to let him cook

Asmo: we aren’t stupid

Lucifer: This chat is for emergencies only.

Belphie: i know. that’s why we’re discussing dinner

Lucifer: If I see Solomon anywhere near the House I will find a way to reverse his immortality.

Catan: wear a blindfold

Asmo: kinky

Catan: freak

Lucifer: I believe I also told you to stop referring to Diavolo and Barbatos as my boyfriends.

Mams: sucks 2 suck

Levs: L moment

Lucifer: I also believe they are in this chat.

Belphie: i know. that’s why we’re discussing dinner.

Belphie: keep up old man

Lucifer: I will remind you that you’re laying in my lap.

Belphie: what’re you gonna do

Belphie: cough on me??

Levs: chat, clip this

Mams: what was that scream???

Diavolo: Belphegor.

Barbs: Lucifer did more than just “cough on him.”

Mams: oh damn.

Mams: so what’s for dinner 

Beel: Lucifer says Belphegor stew

Mams: I thought it was Satan’s turn to cook????????

Catan: lucifer just tried to shove belphie in the oven.

Barbatos: With no seasoning? How revolting.

Diavolo: Demons taste better fried, anyway.

Mams: PARDON???

[woncon]

➳ deal with the devil

➶ enhypen hyung line x demon!reader ｡˚ °

-ˏ` ✎﹏ "See? Who's the victim and who's the hunter is a matter of opinion. You've got the throwing star, but your neck bleeds because of my teeth. Who's who now?"

The whole university went out to haunt people on Halloween night, but you're in detention. So you're playing a game of hunter and prey. They're the hunters, you're the prey.

Only for a while.

➴ genre: suggestive, demon au, warlock au, supernatural college au, pre-poly / friends in a big situationship

: ̗̀➛ warnings: very slight knife play, jakehoon (not actually, you'll get it), seduction as manipulation (it works!), predator/prey with a twist, biting, making out, actually not as dark as it seems

⌨ :: 4.2K words ♡ ︵ . .

⁀➷ i'm a little late, but it's done. happy halloween, engenes! 🎃

⁀➷ thanks to @wonsheep for beta-ing this <3 i'll give you a pack of jelly beans later.

➳ mlist

The cursed piano plays his favorite classic in the Music Room. Melancholic, dark melodies float towards you as the heel of your shoe beats up the silence of the abandoned corridor. You twirl the sweets in your pocket. Jungwon gave them to you before he left to go and scare people. He probably did it out of pity, since you couldn't go with him to the usual Halloween campus program. The piano in the distance starts a new song, and you take off to push the arched door of the Hall of the Immortals, decorated with vines and skulls. The wood wails to let you enter the hall, where the rituals of demons and witches usually take place. Right now there are no reddish pentagrams painted on the floor or heavy, sinister books and bones on the table. Only a few candles flicker and surround a table with four mugs on it. There's a fifth, held in the warlock’s palm, and he's about to plunge a dollop of thick, brownish liquid from the pot with great care into it.

You wait for the door to slam behind you, shutting out the piano's dismal song, but instead somebody catches the heavy door, and you are perhaps a little startled by the sudden presence behind you.

“Mugs? Really?” Heeseung looks on with disbelief as he sidesteps you. “The school has so many goblets, there's one for every rite. And you put the curse into a mug?”

“Don't be such a snob,” says Jay, placing the filled cup next to the others. He neatly arranges them in a circle.

“I'm not a snob,” replies Heeseung darkly.

“Imagine that it's just pumpkin flavored hot chocolate. Four really is just that, so maybe you don't even have to imagine.”

Although, the way Jay is looking at Heeseung right now, he might want the elder to choose the one with the curse. To somehow relieve the tension you sense, you walk over to the table and eye the similarly plain brown china, from which a fragrant, spicy steam rises.

“They're cute,” you note.

Heeseung snorts and leans against one of the tables against the wall. The light from the candles doesn't reach there, and his tall figure is completely lost in the darkness, in the shadow. Remembering how lonely and desolate the university's castle is this evening, you wish he would drink the curse, that he'd be the one to be hunted down tonight. He's so good at blending in, that you probably wouldn't catch him.

“Where did you get them?” You stroke one of the mugs’ handles and stare hard, in hope that you recognise the cursed one.

“From the kitchen. Someone in the divination department has already got the mugs in advance, so that we can paint on them at Christmas.”

It was the same last year, you painted on mugs before the break. Everyone had a chance to get creative and take the results home. But for now, you're going to play. Christmas is still a distant, frost-white dream. At the hour of death, when the bodies crawl out of the grave and the children dress up as monsters while the monsters themselves walk among them, you are going to play a game in which someone nearly dies. 

One of you.

The door opens with another slam. An impatient demon rushes to the table.

“Are you ready? Is the curse in there?” asks Jake, leaning so far against the table that the drinks are shaken and the tip of his horn almost grazes Jay's skin. “Can we start?”

His excitement spreads to the candles. They flare up, burning orange and giving off enough light for you to see the tip of Heeseung's boot.

“Sunghoon is not here yet.”

“Did he chicken out?” Heeseung asks mockingly.

“Haha, no,” replies Sunghoon, who also emerges from the shadows, but not through the door. He came through the secret witch's passage from the hall, which the demons don't know about, so you can only guess which way the entrance might be. “I've just spiced up the curse to make sure it's effective. With snake venom.”

And the flames burn faster, even more brightly. The white wax drips in hot drops down the melting stump, as if to symbolize Jake's anticipation. You, on the other hand, who has no effect on the lights with your emotions, are merely blown away because the contents of the vial Sunghoon brought you mix so easily with the hot chocolate that after Jay spins the tray on which the mugs are standing, you have no idea which one contains the poison-turbocharged curse. 

You're about to find out.

You're all gathered around the table, and it's not just Jake and the candles that are radiating excitement anymore. You can hardly breathe.

“Everybody take one. On three," Jay says in a serious tone. “One, two, three.”

You reach for one of the cups that looks sympathetic. With a trembling hand you lift it to your mouth.

"Ouch, it's hot!" exclaims Jake.

"Obviously. Because it's hot chocolate," Heeseung rolls his eyes. Sunghoon scowls at him.

“Do you feel strange?” Jay asks Jake, who is fanning his tongue.

“It just hurts like hell.”

Finally, after the interlude, you pluck up the courage and drink your own. You are careful, only taking a tiny sip, so you don't burn yourself like others, but it immediately starts burning your mouth and then your throat. You grip your skin, fingers curling into claws, hoping to scrape the tantalizing taste out of you. This is not what a pumpkin flavored hot chocolate is like, not at all.

You fall to your knees, gasping for air. A supporting hand brushes your shoulder. When you feel better, you stand up.

You feel immortal, and yet very, very vulnerable. Weak. Like a victim.

///

Your friends are lurking to kill you.

Three important events have led to this moment, as far as you can tell. First, the day you were learning in demonology class about the various torture methods that demons have developed together with witches. One of these was the curse of immortality, where a person is immortal and can therefore be tortured beyond the extreme. Then came the time when you summoned a spirit with Sunghoon's ouija board. The spirit lady possessed Sunghoon and flirted with Jake through him. Jake was so embarrassed that the armchair underneath him immediately caught on fire, and half the lounge was burnt down before they could put the flames out. It didn't end well for the community space, nor for you. That's when you were banned from going out into the human world on Halloween to haunt. So that led to the third event, when you were wondering what to do to distract yourselves when Halloween came. What could you do to have fun? Jake suggested horror movies. Heeseung said those are boring because what's the point of watching killers hunt when you could be the ones hunting. And the picture came together. 

That's how your friends happened to be hunting you down today. With crossbows, knives, swords, anything and everything they can find. If they catch you before dawn and make you give up, they win. If you hold out and survive, you win. 

The scariest part is you don't know what they're up to. How they're going to get you, and with what.

You fear Heeseung the most. His family is a traditional one of demons who sacrifice goats on full moons and blood moons. With such experience and your horns twisted into the shape that goats’ ones are, it's easy to imagine you as the animal and take your blood until you beg for them to stop. It's just a sick fantasy, you reassure yourself. Heeseung can't see you as a goat if he recalls you kissing in his bed a few days ago. He probably doesn't do that to sacrificial goats. There is some level of tender emotion here.

You turn in after one of the rows of lockers. You don't know exactly where you are. You don't usually have classes in this corner of campus, and it doesn't help that there's no lighting. Yesterday, colorful decorations hung everywhere and talking, red-eyed skeletons strutted at the doors of classrooms to greet students arriving for class. Real bats fluttered around the ceiling, occasionally getting into the hair of passers-by. Pumpkins were placed here and there and their scent was everywhere. But the memory is not worth much now. The university is haunted. A murderers' den. The den of your murderers.

And as much as you're a successful demon, proud of your professors, at this moment you're nothing but a frightened victim, not sure if you're capable of being a ‘final girl’. But you're trying as hard as you can.

In your pocket, you're fiddling with your sweets. Your palms are sweating, your sweets may be melting soon. When the candy papers make noise, you quickly reach out and look around. It is deathly quiet. Everything is still. You've long since left the piano's surroundings behind you. Have they banded together to hunt you down as a team, or are they looking for you individually? Where are the witches' passages? Do Jake and Heeseung use the demons' ones?

You can't hide your fear. Your breathing gets heavier with each passing minute.

It's just a game. Just a game, you remind yourself. Or at least it is now. In the Middle Ages, it wasn't considered a game by the poor people who were tortured to madness.

Something snaps. Must be the knightly armor worn by the fanged pig statues in the corridors. It's been knocked off, then it fell softly to the carpet. What did they knock it down with? That's an easy question to answer when you hear the heavy weapon being dragged across the carpet. A big poleaxe, a very big poleaxe is coming, and it's coming for you.

Your footsteps become frantic, but you try to remain silent and get as far away from your pursuer as possible. The corridor ends in a staircase somewhere, you can make it that far and then decide which way to go. Except that somewhere nearby a door opens. Right in the direction you're going. You're forced to hide in the nearest room before you're trapped halfway down. As quietly as you can, you push down on the handle, squeeze through the gap and throw your back against the door. You close your eyes in the darkness and try to slow your breathing. In, out, in, out.

But you're not alone here either. Something squeaks in the dark, then croaks. Hisses and scratches. It makes a throat sound, rises, then finally lands on your shoulder. It's the three-headed bird, the university mascot. You don't have to see it to know it's rubbing its raven head against your hair. That's the head on the far left. Then comes the owl, and finally the hawk.

He's waiting for a treat. You give him something every time you see him. If you don't, he starts throwing a fit, which means it starts squawking loudly with all three heads as if were an alarm.

“Hi, Casper,” you greet him quietly. “Look what I brought you.”

You reach into your pocket and take out the first piece of candy. Carefully, you peel it out of the wrapper and drop it in the crow's mouth. It happily closes up. Then the owl's opens. You pop the next candy into it, and so far you're very proud of your thriftiness. The hawk is also waiting for its turn, but there's only empty paper in your pocket when you're rummaging around. You remember that you ate the third piece you had, because the poison still tasted awful, even after you'd swallowed the disgusting sip. You sucked on the candy during the rules discussion, and it tasted so good. At this moment, you miss it very much.

The hawk closes his mouth, opens it again, makes a soft noise, then nips the back of your hand.

“I'm sorry, but that's it. That's all, okay? I'll bring you more next time if you don't open your beak, hmm?” You bargain pleadingly. 

Your physical wellness depends on a sugar-addicted monster bird. As it turns out, Capser is not on your side. He flies off your shoulder, his wings rustling loudly in the dark. Then his voice rings out. All three of his mouths start to wag at once, wanting more than two grains of sugar.

“Fuck.”. 

You need to get out. Quickly.

You start feeling around the furniture. You're in the library, you know the feel of the old armchairs. Since most of the lounge burned down, you've been coming here under strict supervision. As you've been here many times, you know there's a secret demon passage in the wall. If you can get there, maybe you'll get lucky and your blood won't stain the furniture. And if you're lucky, you won't run into anybody in there who wants to stab you either.

You start walking carefully and almost fall on your face, tripping in one of the coffee tables. The door creaks open and the bard clatters on the floor of the room. Scrambling on your aching foot, you reach the secret door and throw yourself behind it. And then, with your ankle throbbing, you dash.

You run and run, as if it was the hot, angry hell at your heels.

Somehow you get to your own room. A pentagram lies reassuringly on the floor. You fall to your knees in it, breathing thunderously. You could do with a fiery cup of coffee or an energy drink to give you strength. But at least this hand-drawn pentagram radiates security. It's like you've found sanctuary.

You need a plan.

But when a masked figure emerges from under Jungwon's blanket, you can't think of plans. You leap up to dart for the door, but a sword stands in your way. If you keep going, it will cut you in two. Instead, you jump back into the pentagram and look up at your captor. His mask is a weeping drama face. He's wrapped himself in a cloak that covers his entire face. You cannot tell if the horns you see belong to him or to the mask. He waves his gloved hand at you.

“What's it going to be? Are you going to skewer me?”

The masked man shakes his head. He gets up from the bed, now towering over you. He draws a question mark in the air with the tip of his sword, then points at himself.

“You?” you ask. “What about you?”

He shrugs. 

Maybe this guessing game is worse than if he'd thrown you up on the edge of his sword in the first minute. Him playing games with you makes you nervous. You're surprised to find your fear is fading. This could have something to do with the beneficial effects of the pentagram. In any case, you're able to forge a plan.

“Oh, come on, now. Take the mask off.”

He shakes his head.

You think about the chains under your bed.

You are not allowed to use weapons. Their wounds will not heal as yours will thanks to the curse. But no one said you couldn't use your charm. If your starting point is that you've been in all of their mouths, you have a chance to play this card. What do you have to lose by trying? If they all want to play, that's fine. If they underestimate you, you can take advantage. They have the weapons, but you're smart. If you push fear and panic to the back of your mind, you can succeed. You can succeed because you're tired of running around with them just waiting here and there, chasing you. 

Let this be a game for you, too.

“Should I guess who's under there?”

This time he nods.

“Then you let me go?”

He pauses, thinking. Then he nods enthusiastically. 

He should know better than to make a deal with the devil.

“Hmm. Give me a minute.”

You get up and dust off your knees. It feels good to be back to yourself. You're not looking at a killer anymore, you're looking at one of your friends dressed as a killer. But which one? Heeseung hates wearing masks at ceremonies, not to mention he's not the playful type. If he has to stab you to win, he'll stab you. He's out. You're taking a good look at the masked man. He's got sneakers peeking out from under his robe. Jay's wearing brown boots. That leaves Sunghoon and Jake.

How exciting.

You reach for the top button of your shirt and undo it. And then the next one. “Wow. I'm so hot from running around.”

When you reach the third button, and most of your chest is perfectly visible, the candle on the desk comes to life and burns orange. You smile in satisfaction and put your hands on your hips.

“So will you take the mask off, Jake?”

He tilts his head towards the table, then sighs in disappointment. He takes the mask off.

“You took advantage of my embarrassment!”

“That's it. Now come here. Your hair is all messed up.”

Jake drops the sword, takes off the cloak, and obeys. You take the mask from him and arrange his locks.

“Good,” you nod. You step out of the pentagram. “Claude eam,” you murmur, and the pentagram glows red.

“What? Did you really just lock me up?” the boy asks, stunned. “But I let you go!”

“Sorry, but I haven't forgiven you for threatening me with a sword yet," you blow a kiss in the air, then reach for the robe resting on Jungwon's bed. “And I need to borrow this.”

“What are you up to?”

You just wink, then put on his mask. It's interesting to wear the enemy's face. When you put on the cloak too, you transform completely. You go from prey to full-fledged hunter.

“Oh. You look hot like this.”

“Thanks.”

///

It's not difficult to find Sunghoon, you just have to follow the sound of the poleaxe scraping on the carpet. You tap his hunched back. He looks up.

“Jakey! Did you find them?”

You nod. Sunghoon straightens up completely.

“Where?”

You take him by the arm and lead him to the nearest room. Luckily, there are windows and enough moonlight to keep you from tripping. You're in the dining room. A fitting location for what you plan to do with Sunghoon. You point to a long table with a tablecloth that reaches to the floor. Sunghoon approaches. He slowly kneels beside it, then peers under the tablecloth.

You take advantage of this and push him to the ground, straddling his hips.

"Jake!" he exclaims in surprise. "What are you doing?”

You put your finger over his mouth. You run it down his chin, down his neck, over his Adam's apple, down and down and down his chest. When your palm strokes his stomach under his shirt, Sunghoon's mouth opens, his head dropping to the carpet. With your free hand, you pull the scarf from your pocket. You stole it from one of the ghost decorations and put it to good use when you blindfold the boy. He looks irresistible like this under you. You take off the mask and kiss his chin.

“We have to find-” You grab his hips. He immediately falls silent.

As you push his shirt up his stomach, he thrusts his hips up. You clasp his wrists, lift them above his head, and pull a magic cuff from your other pocket. You stole this from the torture chamber exhibit. It doesn't open with a key, only with a spell. Sunghoon can entertain himself with it.

You cuff both his hands to the leg of the table. You lean to his ear.

“What were you planning to do with that axe?” you whisper.

Sunghoon stiffens under you, but soon relaxes again.

“I didn't mean to hurt you, just to scare you.”

“You succeeded. I don't want to get you laid either, just to get you horny. Did I succeed as well?” You sit on his groin. Sunghoon moans. “Yeah, it seems so.”

“Please…”

“Don't worry. I'll be back soon. There are only two of you left.”

You climb down and out from under the table. The successful hunt gives you endorphins. You can't wait for the next victim to walk into your trap.

///

You don't have to search for long. As soon as a throwing star whizzes past you, all you have to do is turn around and there's Jay. In his hand, he's twirling the next throwing star.  “Give up.”

“No, thank you.”

He throws the next one, which rips your shirt, but doesn't hurt you. You back up to the nearest wall and let him use you as a target. Jay misses again and again. He doesn't want to hurt you, and that's comforting..

“Give up,” he steps in front of you. “Please. We never should have agreed to play this game in the first place.”

You put your arm around his waist and pull him closer to you. “I'm fine.”

“As of now. But you haven't met Heeseung, have you? You didn't see that fire in his eyes.”

“When we meet, I'll defeat him.”

“How?”

"With my mouth," you tell him. You stroke his jugular with the tip of your nose. "I'll beat you with my mouth too."

You lick his skin, then sink your teeth into it, the movement soft and light like a knife in butter. Jay's forehead falls to your shoulder, but he doesn't flinch, doesn't resist. You lean away and smile up at him. His eyes are misty.

"See? Who's the victim and who's the hunter is a matter of opinion. You've got the throwing star, but your neck bleeds because of my teeth. Who's who now?"

“I'm... dizzy.”

“I know.”

You help him slide down the wall and stretch out on the ground. By the time he lands, he's asleep. 

You smeared your teeth with a sleeping potion called vampire kisses. You bought it as a joke, you’ve never used it before. You had to go back to the room to get it, but at least you could see that Jake was okay. He summoned himself a console, and he's playing on it in the middle of the pentagram. 

You wrap the stolen cloak around Jay's body, then head to finish your hunt for the day. 

You plan the finale to be truly spectacular and grandiose.

///

The cursed piano doesn't play alone. Ten fingers rest on its keys and duet with it. The music is somber and dark, deep but inviting. You hope Heeseung, your last killer, your last prey, will come to hear your serenade. You’re playing for him.

You aren't disappointed. He doesn't even try to hide his footsteps, as if he was just waiting to see when you'll reveal yourself to him.

"It's a painful song," he says when you finish. You turn towards him on the bench.

With the light of the candles you have lit for the occasion, his face is half lost in the shadows, but you easily recognise the pocket knife held loosely in his hand.

“Painful, but beautiful. Just like you.”

Heeseung chuckles. “How can I stab you when you’re flirting with me?”

You shrug. “Be creative.”

“Yeah?”

He steps closer. He lifts your chin with the tip of the knife. There's indeed a wildness in his eyes, but Jay misread that. He's not like this because he wants to kill, but because he can give chase. You know it because your gaze would be the same if you looked in the mirror. The happiness of a successful hunt turns Heeseung's face red and makes his eyes sparkle, but he doesn't actually want to hurt you.

One by one, he cuts off your buttons and looks you in the eye. They all fall to the ground and scatter.

“I met Sunghoon on the way here.”

“Did you like the view?”

Heeseung's tongue strokes his fang. – “You're evil. Wicked.”

“I wouldn't say that. I'm rather consistent. They were the ones who made a deal with the devil. These are the consequences.”

“And what do I deserve?”

“I'm thinking about it.” Even though you say that, you already know what you want to do with him. You want him to remember that you defeated him for a long time.

“That means you're not giving up, right?” Heeseung helps you out of your shirt.

“If I remember the rules correctly, the game is over when I beg.”

“Understood.” He sits down next to you on the piano bench and kisses you. You part your lips and brush your tongue against his. Heeseung shudders. Your palm slides to his thigh, and he drops the knife. 

Of the four, he is the most hungry for touch. He doesn't like to admit it, hiding behind his smug, cold and mocking mask, but when you’re making out, it's obvious. You lean in close, let him touch you where he wants, and when he can't think of anything but you, you ask him.

“Did I win?”

“You won.”

It's as sweet to hear that from his lips as it is to kiss them. It's as sweet as Jay's blood, the fire from Jake's embarrassment, or even as sweet as Sunghoon's commitment to drag a bard across campus just to scare you. Sweet enough to make your victory complete.

[luvyeni]

hi hi hi, could i request an innie smut? you know how innie isn’t very touchy? so maybe he one day is talking about it with the guys & his girl and he brings up how his gf isn’t touchy either, but she shyly mentions that she is, and her love language is physical touch, the other guys confirm it and he gets kind of upset bc she’s never been like that with him, so he shows her she doesn’t have to hold back and he wants the attention from her and for her not to give it to anyone else

sorry it’s so long, & i rambled a bit, but my innie brainrot is going crazy lately

DON'T MIND; YANG JEONGIN

pairings. boyfriend!jeongin x fem!reader

wc. 1.4k

warnings. vanilla sex , unprotected sex, oral (f. recieving), clit play

i hope you like it <3

jeongin wants all your attention

—

jeongin sighed for the third time as changbin pulled him into a bone crushing hug. "hyung." he squirmed , trying to break himself free from his elder. "hyung get off of me." he groaned , he wasn't really into physical touch , but his members never really seemed to care , constantly hugging him , or pinching his cheek. "hyung get off." he finally gave the man one last push , grunting as changbin finally let him go.

"yah! im just trying to give you love." the buff man yelled pouting like a small child. "i hate it." he groaned , you shook your head , you knew your boyfriend wasn't a fan of skinship , that's why you never really did it , the occasional kiss on the cheek to catch him off guard or jeongin tapping on your knee while he drove. you actually really loved physical touch , it was your love language , but you didn't want to make him uncomfortable.

"y/n i don't know how you do it." han said. "how do you live through the day , knowing your boyfriend hates skinship." han said. "must be lonely." chan slapped the boy's arm. "what are you talking about , she hates skinship , she probably hates it more than i do." that definitely wasn't true, you often craved to be touched by your boyfriend , not even all the time , just a cuddle here and there. "you're joking." seungmin said. "seungmin drop it." you said , but he didn't hear you (or maybe he was ignoring you) .

"you girlfriend is probably more touchy than felix." jeongin turned to you , you looked away , hoping he didn't question it. "you don't like skinship , do you." you bit your lip , shyly nodding your head. "actually i really love physical touch , it's my love language." he was shocked , you've never initiated it , you hardly ever touched him. "why haven't you said anything?" you shrugged.

"you mean to tell me you've never seen felix and her hugging , you would've thought they were dating." felix's ears turned red. "d-dont say it like that , i would never do that to him." he spoke up. "yeah , we're just friends , innie i know you don't like it , i don't want to make you uncomfortable." you said. "please don't be upset." you put your hand on his knee. he nodded , but it still stayed on his mind.

he watched you for the rest of the time , and it was surprised. you actually were pretty touchy , hugging felix for a little too long , squeezing changbins biceps , leaning your head on chans shoulders , he was actually getting pretty annoyed with how close you were. "hey baby , don't you think we should head out." he called out. "oh , yeah sure , i have work in the morning anyway." you got up , he handed you your jacket , grabbing your hand , interlocking hands , something you guys never did. "we'll be going." he spoke up. "bye everyone!" you waved , before you two exited the dorm.

the ride home was silent , but you could tell something was on his mind , was he really upset about the physical touch thing? "innie?" you called , he hummed , his eyes still facing the road as he turned into your apartment complex. "are you upset with me." he didn't say anything , but it gave you a conformation.

you guys got out of the car , taking the elevator up to your apartment. he silence was starting to worry you , you didn't want it to turn into something big. you both stepped into the apartment , making your way to the room. you began to take off your clothes , getting ready for the evening. "i'm not upset with you." he finally spoke up. "you aren't." he shook his head , coming up behind you. "no , just a bit upset that you felt like you couldn't tell me that you like physical touch." he wrapped his arms around your half bare body. "i didn't want you to be uncomfortable." you sighed as he kiss your neck.

"baby i don't care if it's you." he whispered. "i want you." he turned you around pulling you into a kiss , grabbing your thighs , signaling you to jump. he carried you to the bed , dropping you down , climbing on top of you. "don't give others attention." he kissed down your stomach , you whined as he got to your pantie line. "innie please do something."

he removed your panties , kissing your clit. "don't hold back , give me everything you got." he brought his mouth to your clit , sucking on it. "fu-fuck." your hands flew up to his hands , he hardly ever went down on you , but when he did , he knew what he was doing. "you feel so good." you moaned , your fingers tied up in his hair , tugging at it. "fuck , fuck innie , im gonna cum." just as you felt your orgasm approaching , he pulled away, with a tap of your clit.

"why." you whined , he just smiled , coming up to kiss your lips again. "because i want you to look at me when you cum on my cock." pulled his cock out from his underwear , rubbing up and down your slit. "fuck princsss , you pretty pussy is all messy." he smirked , pressing his tip against your hole. "please , please put it in." you reached for him , desperate for his touch. he pushed into your needy cunt , his cock stretching you out.

"mhm , you feel so good." you moaned. "i'm glad you feel good baby." he grunted , rocking his hips back and forth into you. "i dont want you giving anyone else more attention." he grunted. "i want it all the time." he rubbed figure eights on your clit. "you understand me baby?" you nodded , gripping the sheets. "yes fuck ! yes i understand." your orgasm coming up on you , you just needed that final push , which he quickly found , his cock hitting your g-spot repeatedly.

"oh my~ m'gonna cum." you screamed. he grabbed your jaw , forcing you to look at him. "look at me when you cum." he commanded. "go a head , cum for me." he gave you one particular thrust, that had you seeing stars as you came around him , creaming his cock. "sh-shit , im gonna cum too , where do you want it , you want it inside." you hummed, to fucked out to speaked. "good girl , take my cum for me." he grunted one last time , his warm seed filling you up , he cursed, stilling his hips his cock growing soft inside you.

he didn't even bother to pull out , just positioning his body so you both would be comfortable. "you're not going to pull out." he shook his head. "no , i want to feel you for a little longer." you laughed. "jeongin , you don't have to do this." he shut you up with a kiss.

"i told you , i don't mind if it's you , i want all your attention , give it all to me."

©️LUVYENI

[bu-blegh-ost]

EP. 114 spoilers

Okay, guys, I have an insane theory. An absolutely bonkers unhinged one and I'm absolutely sure it's getting debunked by the info we'll get from ep. 115 fucking immediately, but let me have this, entertain the madness I'm about to spew from my lips.

"Praise the Solar Mother" means that Faye Ferin is not only conscious and aware of the prophecy, she BELIEVES it. The question is, which version of it, right? Well, she was warned abt Black Sea beforehand and this allowed her to get the upper hand in expanding Navy's influence, but not only that, she says "the day it spreads is coming and we'll be ready" And which prophecy speaks of it? "the seal remains locked by a key of divinity, its release, in time, an inevitability"

The real one.

She fucking knows that the Black Sea is about to spread soon and wants to either use it in some way or be the one to control the world after the calamity. And here comes my absolutely deranged idea.

"The Machine is stable. My son is stable"

What if the machine is an artificial Leviathan and the son is Jayson Ferin. Picture this madness. See into my crazy gay-ass mind.

What if Faye Ferin wants to control the world by making Jayson Ferin into a new Chosen one. She is constructing an artificial Leviathan, but why? To somehow connect Jayson to it and make him "a Sea god's last egg". We SAW the Leviathan bones, the Navy is strong enough to kill real Leviathans, they don't need them as weapons, they have things stronger than them! So what if they need one to literally trick fate? Jayson is literally raised like Gillion. Only under his mother's influence, controlled by her agenda, her vision of justice. She makes him consider Drey and Jay as traitors, feeds his hatered, feeds him her own perception of reality to use him for her gains. His almost ethereal sun-angel form. Where does his power come from? Was he modified? I fully believe he is not replaced by Black ops. She doesn't need to do that. She had full control over his way of thinking ever since he was born simply bc she is his mother. She enjoys that control. She is confident that Jayson won't break from her grasp.

And now see this. Jayson just so happens to come for a visit to the Undersea, not so long ago. Could the Elders be replaced as Black ops at this point? They very much could. Why would the real Elders banish Gillion if they believed he was the Chosen One? Why not imprison him, keep him in their own control? Well, cause they were Navy clones, possibly. And Navy wanted Gill out of the picture.

The important meeting in the Undersea arranged by Elders (impostors?) a while back. Suspiciously high amount of Triton torture victims in the stronghold. "You abandoned us". What if they are taking over Undersea from the inside? What if fake Elders spread propaganda, saying that Gill was not in fact banished but that he abandoned his people willingly? So maybe they are willing to appoint a new Chosen, Jayson?

Why would Edyn want to help them with all that? "I just want you to be able to come back home again"

If Jayson is a new Chosen, then Gillion doesn't have to be. If Gillion becomes a regular person Edyn can take him home, they can live a normal life and if the world has to burn because of it, so be it. Gillion will be free. That's all Edyn cares abt.

Let me know if I fully lost my mind please.

[neolovesneo]

AFTER ALL THESE YEARS.

skater!mark, nurse!reader, elderbrother!johnny | fluff | best friends to strangers to friends to lovers au

note ; requests are open!! + im back i guess?? i said the same thing last year august but then i disappeared again lol,, anyways enjoy this mark fic thats been in my drafts for god knows how long </3

taglist ; @soobin-chois (lmk if you'd like to be added to my taglist!)

tw: mentions of blood, broken arms, and a hospital

Summer, 2011. (12)

"Coming through!" Johnny dramatically bellows down the halls, using his arm to swat anyone out of his way. "Injured individual making his way to Biology, get out of the way!"

Mark's face flushes bright red at his brother's antics, groaning as he kept his eyes on the ground. "Dude, will you stop it? I can walk through the crowd myself." he mumbles.

It's not like Mark can't walk either; it was just a broken arm from a nasty skateboard fall last week. Which was mainly Johnny's idea - he somehow persuaded Mark to attempt an ollie on the staircases.

Keyword: attempt.

"Yeah, yeah," Johnny huffs, stopping as they arrived outside Mark's classroom. "That's what you're saying now, and you'd go home and whine to Mom later about how I didn't 'take care of you like an elder brother should'."

The younger is about to protest but Johnny rolls his eyes, opening the classroom door and lightly pushing Mark in.

"Just be careful. Don't blow anything up, see you at lunch!"

And with that, Johnny speeds off to his own class, a blurry figure rapidly sprinting down the halls.

"Bye!" Mark calls, waving stiffly with his left hand.

"Oh my God Mark, what happened?"

You're facing the Canadian with wide eyes of surprise and concern when he turns around, jaw dropped.

"Fell down the stairs on my skateboard last week." he sighs, clambering onto the high stools of the Biology classroom. "I landed on my elbow, and I broke the bone all the way till here."

Your gaze follows his finger's motion, jaw dropping at the horrifying image of your best friend breaking almost his entire arm. "Did it hurt? Did you sit in an ambulance? Did the doctors give you any candy?"

Mark scoffs, awkwardly moving his casted arm. "We're twelve, Y/N. Big girls and boys don't get candy anymore."

You hum in realization, but Mark leans in to whisper after a while.

"The X-ray machine was kinda scary though," he whispers, looking left and right suspiciously, not wanting anyone to overhear. "Looked like a gigantic door handle."

You grimace at this, staring weirdly at Mark. "So they used a door handle to take your X-ray?"

"What? No!"

Mark facepalms, shaking his head. "Didn't you say you wanted to be a nurse when you grow up?" he asks suspiciously, frowning at you. " Kinda stupid of you to think that doctors use door handles to take X-rays."

You gasp dramatically at his words, squinting at him. "You were the one who said it looked like a door handle!" You retort, waving your pencil around as if it'd prove your point.

Mark scoffs at this, swatting your pencil out of his face. "I said it looked like a door handle, I never said it was a door handle. Basic English, Y/N."

A slight flame begins to burn in both of your glares, angsty puberty hormones starting to set into action.

"Oh yeah? Well I'm not the one who failed Engli-"

"Mark and Y/N! Stop talking or I'll make you stand outside!"

The sudden boom of your Biology teacher, Mr. Kim, prompts the two of you to immediately shut up, back to sitting as still as statues.

He glowers at the two of you for a moment before turning back towards the whiteboard, starting to explain about the day's topic.

"Sorry for calling you stupid." Mark mumbles quietly after a few awkward minutes pass by, softly nudging your arm. "I didn't mean it."

"I'm sorry for getting mad." you reply guiltily, patting his casted one in return.

"Wanna sign my cast after class?"

Your eyes light up with excitement and you nod readily. "Sure! Can I draw a star? How about a flower? Ooh, or maybe a-"

"Mark and Y/N, outside right now!"

Oops.

Spring, 2023. (24)

"Y/N, you're needed down by Ward 802, got a guy in with a broken arm."

You nod quickly in response and sprint off towards the said ward.

Having worked as a full-time emergency department nurse for the past year, broken arms had become the ordinary for you.

If anything, they were one of the easiest situations to deal with in the emergency department everyday. Well, as long as they weren't pierced through the skin, with blood everywhe-

Mark Lee?

You freeze in surprise when you tug the curtains open to see the all-too-familiar figure laying there, another nurse already working over his limp arm.

His head of curly, black hair turns to face the door, eyes wide like saucers the moment he sees you.

"Y/N?" he squeaks.

Your mouth dries up as your brain tries to calculate how long it's been since you've seen him, the start of him moving out of Canada for college slowly dragging your friendship apart till it seemingly no longer existed.

And now he's right back here in front of you, almost exactly the same as he was when he left.

"Mark? What are you doing here?" you mumble, stunned.

He chuckles dryly at this, jerking his head towards the direction of his arm. "I think you already know."

The nurse working over his arm sighs, shaking her head as the last roll of bandage wraps around his cast.

"Is he your friend? You need to tell him to be more careful," she scolds as she ticks something off a chart. "This is the third time I've seen him in here!"

Mark can only smile guiltily in admittance as the nurse leaves the ward, mentioning to you how a quick debrief on what to do with his injury will be enough to dismiss him.

"So," he starts, sitting up. "Long time no see! How have you been?"

"I need to tell you about your broken arm first." you interrupted sheepishly, holding up his X-ray. "Let's see. You've broken your ulna from here to her-"

Now it's Mark's turn to interrupt you as he gently pushes his X-ray away.

"Y/N, I've broken my arm like, over ten times. I know the drill." he insists. "How have you been?"

Looking right into his eyes, the countless years of lost contact and drifting friendship does nothing to your memory. His eyes were just as wide and sparkly as they were when you were kids, and his hair was still as dark as his bedroom when you slept over and exchanged secrets in whispered giggles.

"Hello? Earth to Y/N? How have you been?"

His question snaps you out of your thoughts, and the boyish glint in his intense gaze makes your heart skip a beat.

It doesn't help that your stupid little crush on him comes rushing back too, and you can only hope Mark doesn't notice the way your face starts to flush red.

"Well... I missed you." you started, voice trailing off as you avoided eye contact. "It's been years."

"What happened to your promises of calling and keeping in touch?" you asked quietly. A dull pain starts to settle in your heart as it recalls the days where light blended into darkness, and darkness blended into light while Mark was thousands of miles away.

Mark winces at your question, awkwardly scratching his head. "Well, can I be honest?" he mumbles, now focused on picking on a loose thread off his T-shirt.

Your head shoots up, nervous and excited to hear what's been holding your childhood best friend from keeping in touch the moment he stepped foot out of your home country.

"Yeah, be as honest as you want to."

Mark nods, taking in a big breath as you notice the tip of his ears turning red.

"Well, I really liked you." he admits, grinning sheepishly as he kept his gaze glued to the floor.

"And when I left Canada, I wasn't sure if I'd ever be back on a long-term basis, so I decided to just give up on you. I didn't want to act on an impulse and end up hurting the both of us."

You blink in surprise, the truth bringing a sense of relief and yet a slight sting of pain.

"But don't you think that completely not talking to me would hurt me too?" you suggested. "I really, really, really missed you Mark."

The shift in your tone prompts him to look up at you, his eyes glazing over when he notices your pink ones. He reaches out for your hands, and it takes you right back to the past.

"I'm sorry. I just didn't know what to do with my feelings." he mumbled, eyes earnestly looking at you.

"Well, for the record, I liked you too, you know." you sniffled, brushing away a tear.

Mark sits up straight. "You did...?" he questions in disbelief.

You hummed in reply.

It was never anything serious, but Mark had your entire heart in the palm of his hands for those few years. You still remembered the times where his bright smile and soothing voice was all you could think about, squealing happily in your bedroom after each time you hung out together.

You bask in the bitter sweetness of the memories until Mark gets your attention.

"Well, how about now?"

"Now?" you echoed in disbelief.

Mark nods, doe eyes wide and staring into you so deeply that you squirmed shyly.

"I uh- I..." you sputtered, aware of the warmth rushing to your cheeks.

"We can get to know each other again first." he suggests. "What time does your shift end?"

You take a quick glance at your watch, glad for the break from Mark's intense eye contact.

"My shift ends in two hours. Maybe we can meet again some other day? I think you need to get some rest."

Mark shakes his head. "I'm fine! Don't worry about it." he breezes. "How about pizza after your shift? I can come pick you up."

You chuckle at his idea, gently nudging his casted arm.

"With this bad boy on your arm? I don't think you'll be able to do any driving for a while, Mark."

Stubbornly, Mark continues. "Then can I have your number? We can plan a date."

The word 'date' sends adrenaline rushing up to your mind, and your heart races as you fumble for your phone in your pocket.

"Wait, can you just write it down for me?" Mark interrupts.

"Sure." you agree, trying to play it cool as you pull out a marker from a nearby drawer.

You were expecting a piece of paper or whatnot, but Mark sticks out his casted arm instead.

"Huh?" you mumble, confused.

"Your number." he says casually. "Write it on my cast."

The scratch of the marker against the white bandage fills up the silence of the room as you do so, unlocking another core memory as you recall doing the same thing ten years ago at school.

"Remember when you signed my cast in sixth grade?" Mark chuckles, as if he had read your mind. "Kinda funny to see us doing the same thing ten years later."

You smile at his words, warmth blooming in your heart at the memory.

Maybe things will work out with Mark, even after all these years.

© neolovesneo, 2023.

[bg3fan]

Keeping you warm

Raphael x tav drabble (not proofread)

It's finally nighttime, and everybody is asleep, so you sneak out of your tent and go down the nearest river to take a refreshing and hopefully calming bath.

The nightmares weren't going easy on you today either, even though you feel like you could pass out from the exhaustion in your bones.

Arrived at the river, you strip down your sleep wear and pin your hair up. Slowly, you dip your toes into the cold water, and it immediately gives you goosebumps.

But nonetheless, you grit your teeth and sit down in the water, admiring the full moon as you tilt your head back. Hugging your knees to your chest, hoping it'll warm you up a little.

You look so peaceful and truly beautiful under the shining moon as you are oblivious to the campion hiding between the woods across from you.

He only wanted to catch up with korilla about your adventures when he caught you sneaking out of your tent. Curious as he is, he stopped to see where you're headed to.

And right now he finds himself seated on a rock and admiring your shivering form and relaxed expression. The next thing he knew, you put your face in your hands and started weeping loudly. And the sounds break something inside his chest.

Oh, how much he'd like to comfort you and hold you, cradle you, tell you that he'll take care of the tadpole, the elder brain, and everything else that worries your pretty head.

But he needs you to do your part in his perfect plan so that he can gain the power to conquer the hells and then to make you his.

He knows that if he shows special interest, one behind a contract, that will make you more a target than you already are.

He understands how you're feeling, you're under constant stress and pressure you don't know whom you can trust, always looking behind your shoulder in fear for an ambush.

Poor mouse, he thinks, you're only a mortal after all.

Your weeping is unbearable, so the only thing he can do is at least warm the river for you so that you don't catch a cold.

And in wonder, you lift your face as you feel the water getting warmer and your nose catch a familiar scent of cherries and sulfur.

Thankfully, it did calm your nerves even if it was a little, the warmth soothing your aching muscles, allowing you to stretch your lags and lay back and close your puffy eyes.

The scent is too familiar, and you know who is near, but you're too tired to deal with him now, and weirdly, you feel protected with him near.

It's no secret that he keeps Korilla near you to keep track of you. But knowing that he's there watching you makes you forget the threat of being ambushed or attacked in this vulnerable moment.

And you're sure that Raphael stayed with you until you've gone back to your tent. Safe with the others.

[vickyyoon]

Last day

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Paring : hyunjin x fem!reader

Genre: Angst, smut ( not described just mentioned)

C/w: hyunjin cheats on reader, angst, break up

Synopsis: there were rumors about your boyfriend who couldn't move on from his old arts teacher,and you were just an escape but you too blindly in love to see the red flags.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Everyone told you rumors of your boyfriend, that he was a not loyal and trustworthy. But you were madly in love, ever since you became the new teacher at an arts academy for part-time. His exotic paintings charmed you and his words baffled you and his body never failed to amaze you.

He became your favorite student, everyone was happy for you but they feared the worst for you aswell. It always went by that " awe they're dating and no way they're student teachers"

But it was an academy not a school, he was older than you too so there was not much people who belittled you for it. He also made sure you made him your favorite student by making his art always stand out.

.

You came into class looking for him but he wasn't there, you asked the other students if they knew where he was but no one could tell you. Something felt off about the students and they started to suspect whatever that was most apparently likely to happen.

Days went by and his membership was almost expiring, so knew day ou went to see him, you wielded a bouquet of flowers, gifts and chocolates at his door step.

You knocked on the door but it was taking long for him to arrive, maybe he was in the shower? To your surprise an elder lady around her early 40s opened the door in a robe, you were so confused.

" are you looking for someone?" she asked you politely.

The you heard something that tore your heart into pieces. " baby who's at the door? Hurry up I need you ."

It was him! No doubt it was him! The lady in the robe? It didn't take you too long to realize what was happening right now.

The rumors were true, you boyfriend still couldn't get over his old arts teacher, your heart burned and you were horrified. With tears forming in your wide eyes you shook your head.

You left without saying anything, you threw whatever you bought in the trash, not caring how much money you've spent on those expenses but how much love you've wasted.

The next day he suddenly attends his class and you don't seem to give him much attention, you started to act much more formal and this was very weird for him, he thought you were just so biased just by the way you would stare at him while he painted and started to sketch, everyone else in the room could feel the tension, they could tell something was wrong.

Not long enough he was craving attention and he pulled out his phone trying to text you to meet him in the bathroom because he wanted to ask you what was the matter but to his surprise the text went green, you blocked him?

Soon it was presenting time and today was the first day you decided to give others a chance, another student seemed to put his heart and soul into the picture he painted and you gave him the credits and compliments he rightfully deserved.

His confused hyunjin alot and it was burning him, was he really jealous now? The way he glared at that boy and how his jaw bone flexed he was burning for sure.

That day you went home to have him follow you, so you just walk on without looking at him, the more he tried to talk to you the faster you went further.

He grabbed your wrist. " why did you block me?" he stared into you with desperate and innocent eyes.

You only glared at him, furrowing your eyebrows and giving him a look filled with hatred. " what's wrong? Why are you ignoring me?" he was still calm.

" Don't act so naive! You know what you've been upto! They were right!" you yelled at him.

You were at the brink of tears but nothing could stop you from walking away, you did not want to stand on his ground, you did not want breathe his air, you did not want to hear what he heard, you didn't even want to see what he was seeing. You hated him and everything around him.

Your heart drops every now and then thinking about that day you found out that you were just a temporary escape, nothing more and nothing less. You probably meant nothing to him...

[randomingoftherandomness]

Sometimes Yuanzhi wonders if someone will notice if he disappears. It's probably just one of his bad days but the loneliness is choking him.

Ziyu is fooling around with Zishang and Jin Fan under the loving eyes of his wife.

Shangjue is glued to his wife and their stinky and noisy kid, Jin Fu protectively following them.

But him? He has no one, the servants don't like him, his brother doesn't care anymore about him. And for romantic love... he doesn't know if he is even capable of that, the whole idea of letting someone touch him in that way disgust him.

He's better alone after all, or, at least, that is what he is constantly telling himself.

He has his work, that is enough.

A/N: I took some liberties with this one Nonnie, I hope you don’t mind x

—

It’s quiet.

Why is it quiet?

Sluggish gossamer thoughts flit and slips through his fingers. It’s life holding on to fine grains of sand. Flashes of emotions and images flicker in front of him.

The scene of Ziyu kissing Jin Fan as he is expounding on the merits of a particular sword oil during a family dinner while Zishang jie and Yun Weishan are chatting on their own, unperturbed by the way their husbands are practically sucking each other’s face.

“…di!”

A short sliver of Elder Yue smiling at Elder Xue and Xue Tongzi while they discuss matters about medicinal research.

A sun drenched scene of Gege with his son astride on his shoulders, laughing and playing while Shangguan Qian looks on with her hand rubbing her very pregnant belly.

The whispers of his residence’s servants who scurry away at the sight of him.

“…up…”

An absolute and soul crushing loneliness.

Yuanzhi is exhausted. Bone deep and gnawing at his heels. He’s tired of being left behind. Of being the one that everyone forgets about in moments of happiness. He’s so sad. Breaking apart at the crudely sewn seams with the sheer enormity of the waves that threaten to take him whole.

Yuanzhi relaxes into the nothingness.

He just wants to be done with it.

In the floating darkness, he thinks he can taste the tang of salt on his lips.

“Y…zhi…”

There’s something he did. Or didn't do? It is hard think when—

Another flash of memory.

One that leaves him bereft when he realised that it’s the sight of him sitting alone just a half a step behind everyone while they’re cuddled up together in pairs and groups while they’re watching the winter moon.

Yuanzhi has a fleeting sense of… something. An emptiness that gnaws at him. A sort of haunting that rattles around in the empty rooms of his soul. Because that’s what he is, isn’t it? Empty.

He is poison personified.

A bane on everything and everyone he has ever loved. A venom with no cure. The thing everyone leaves behind the second they can. He has no place in the happiness of others.

“Wake—“

How work is his last lifeline.

If he can prove his worth, if he can somehow make himself useful, maybe… maybe someone could love him back?

“Didi, please…”

Yuanzhi feels so sleepy. He just wants to rest. He wants everything to stop and be quiet just for a second. Just long enough for him to think.

He just—

Waking is anything but a peaceful event.

There’s a flurry of activity around him. Doctors who are shouting about him waking up and pressing their fingers to his pulse point, servants who are running in and out of the room with basins of water and medicinal supplies.

Then.

Then, there are hands on him and voices calling his name. An ache in his belly that burns. He vaguely thinks he should remember this.

Yuanzhi closes his eyes.

He remembers none of it.

Sunlight is the first thing he registers when he opens them again. He groans, throwing his arm over his eyes.

“Let me get that.”

Yuanzhi jolts a little at the voice.

Gege returns a moment later after pulling down the blinds, gently coaxing his arm away from his face. The sight of him is hazy and distant. Yuanzhi doesn’t have the energy to do anything more than whimper quietly when Ge checks his temperature with the back of his hand. Satisfied with the results he finds, Gege moves to hold Yuanzhi’s hand between his palms.

Neither one of them speaks and Yuanzhi soon feels his consciousness swim a little.

“We almost lost you,” Shangjue gege says, voice dense with an unnameable emotion. Yuanzhi blinks his eyes open. Mouth shut, he tilts to face to him.

Shangjue squeezes his hand. “Do you remember what happened?”

Yuanzhi exhales slowly. There’s a huge chunk of his memory that moves through him and his mind swims, but eventually he seizes on a singular moment.

“I… Was in my workshop…”

Gege nods, rubbing his thumb over the back of his hand. It’s soothing and feels a lot like how he would sit by Yuanzhi’s side when he was a child and less able to withstand the poisons he was testing.

He’s not a child now, but this still feels nice.

“I was running an experiment and I—“

“Second Young Master, Young Master Zhi.”

There’s a wince on Jin Fu’s face that he can’t quite hide in time as he bows. Yuanzhi feels Shangjue’s touch still.

“Did I not say I wasn’t to be disturbed while I’m with my brother?” Ge says slowly, resuming his comforting arc on Yuanzhi’s skin.

“My apologies, but it’s from furen,” Jin Fu replies. “She says that the little master is seeking you.”

Yuanzhi’s heart stops beating at that. Biting the inside of his cheek, he pulls his hand out of Shangjue’s. Tucking the blanket around his shoulder, he turns himself to his side, facing away from Gege.

“You should go,” He whispers. Curling into himself, he ignores the way Shangjue gege calls his name.

Feigning sleep becomes real sleep, and when he’s back to the land of the waking, it’s nighttime again and Yuanzhi thinks that he has about enough of being unconscious.

There’s no one in the room with him but the lamps are lit. Mentally running through a checklist of his well-being, he deems himself healthy enough to not need another second in the sick room.

He’s in the middle of tugging a coat around him when there’s a rustling of robes coming into his space.

“And where do you think you’re going?”

Jin Fan is frowning, crossing the room to take him by the arm. Looking him up and down, the divot between his eyebrows deepens.

Yuanzhi tries to wrench his arm out of his hold but he’s still too weak, and it does little more than make him stumble forward into Jin Fan.

“Let go.”

“No.”

“Let go of me!”

“No,” Jin Fan repeats, tossing him over his shoulder and stalking to the bed. Yuanzhi braces himself to be thrown unceremoniously onto his back. Just as he stiffens his body, he is surprised when Jin Fan carefully, and perhaps a little preciously, lays him down. Dark eyes search his own before the Jade Guardian steps back, expertly stripping him out of his half worn coat.

“Young Master Zhi, you’re a very difficult fellow to love, do you know that?”

Bristling, any budding warmth in Yuanzhi’s chest is immediately extinguished and he grits his teeth. “I’m very well aware of my failings, thank you very much.”

“That’s not what I—“ Jin Fan sputters, sighing deeply before he moves on to take his shoes off. “I meant no offence.”

“You didn’t say anything wrong, so there was no offence in the first place.” Yuanzhi tugs his collar tight around his neck. Shuffling until he is pressed to the far side of the bed.

Dimly, he is aware of Jin Fan muttering something to the effect of, “I’m really the last person who should be doing this.”

Yuanzhi just keeps to himself, choosing to wallow in his failed attempt at escaping. He turns his mind to plotting another one. Maybe through the window, though he’s concerned about getting winded if he does. It wouldn’t be a long trek back to his quarters to barricade himself in. No one would look for him then and he doubts any of his brothers and sister will even be bothered to care.

Yes. That could work.

He just needs—

Jin Fan has his hand around Yuanzhi’s wrist, the warmth of his palm making him shiver and gasp.

“If you’re thinking of jumping out the window, you should know that the Zhiren has a net trap set outside to catch you,” He placidly says.

Damn it all!

Yuanzhi huffs, flicking his sleeve and hugging his knees to his chest even though that just makes things hurt a lot more.

The bed makes a creaking sound. Jin Fan is back again, tugging him by the ankles until he is laid up. Without a second word, he bundles him up under the blanket.

“Alright,” He sighs. “Apparently I’m the man for the job, so here goes.” Jin Fan pinches the edges down, effectively trapping Yuanzhi under his weight and gaze. “Your family is worried about you.”

“I’m fine,” Yuanzhi sullenly snarls. He’s going to be difficult about this, damn his health. “So you can just—“

“In what version of the word fine are you, because from what I’ve seen, you can’t even hope to match me now!” Jin Fan raises his voice before exhaling with a short groan of misery.

Good, Yuanzhi thinks viciously, be fucking miserable.

“I keep going about this the wrong way. What I meant to say is that your family has been worried about you for the longest time and no one more so than your Gege.”

Yuanzhi does stiffen at that. The blanket is hot over his body and it’s starting to be uncomfortable. The room is starting to swim again.

“There’s nothing to be worried about,” Yuanzhi says, affecting his most nonchalant tone. “I’m perfectly fine.”

“Oh heavens, they can’t say I didn’t try!” Yuanzhi has barely any time to register that shift in his voice before he is picked up and thrown over his shoulder again.

“What are you—!”

“You want to leave the sick room so bad? Fine! I’ll bring you out myself!”

Yuanzhi squeezes his eyes shut. Pursing his mouth tightly shut as he is bumped and carried, all while still in the rolled up blanket. He breathes as shallowly as possible, scarcely daring to even do anything other than focusing on not vomiting all over himself.

He feels it the moment Jin Fan kicks open a door.

“Tell him yourself. He isn’t listening to me.”

[bonezone44]

linecook!Ezra ficlet (18+)

Linecook!Ezra x afab!Reader

word count: 873.

Tags: no smut. Just some good ol’ fashioned Waffle House dirty talk. Implied oral (f), implied past somno fingering, implied past p-in-v.

a/n: I've got 1000 other fics I should be writing but then this came out and I know it ends abruptly, but I'm trying to get my brain going.

+++++

Ezra, sitting on an overturned bucket in the back of the Waffle House, spits wisdom to his young cohorts on his cigarette break. They gather around him with eager eyes and hopeful smiles while he shares tales of the beforetimes (before the current manager was hired). He feels like the village elder, continuing an oral tradition that began long before the Waffle House existed. Back when it was a plot of land on the side of the highway that the local farmers would use to set up their vegetable stands every day.

When his tale is done, so is his cigarette. He snubs it out on the wall behind him and tosses the butt in an ever-present, faded, empty can of Barq’s root beer.

"You want another one?" asks one of the new waitresses, holding out a pack of Marlboro 100s that seemed to materialize from thin air with how swiftly she acquired it from her purse. Her fingernails are chewed down to the bone. She's nineteen years old and keen for Ezra's attention and approval.

She’s cute, he thinks. But he knows she’s too young and inexperienced for a man with his tastes. He wasn’t nearly as patient and accommodating as he had been in previous years. And none of those passing thoughts matter much anyhow since he has you.

He smiles, though, and continues to be polite. "I appreciate the offer, but I find myself satisfied with that particular poison for today." He pulls out a small joint of marijuana from his pocket. "On to the next one," he drawls with a smirk and the group laughs. They watch quietly as he lights it up with a flick of his BIC and takes a long, deep inhale. He holds it for as long as his aging lungs can muster and releases it above him in a thick cloud of smoke.

Then the back door flies open and you poke your head out.

You scoff at the sight. "Ezra! What are you doin back here? I need you on the grill!" You wave your hand, swatting the weed smoke away.

"I am holding court with my brethren," he turns to you and answers coolly.

"You're not gettin paid to hold court!" you yell. "I got hungry people in here!"

"Alright, alright." He licks his finger and thumb and pinches out the cherry of his joint. He looks to his audience. "Duty calls," he says with a smile and stands up. He lazily makes his way inside while you stand there and hold the door open for him.

—

You look out at the group. "What are y'all doin here? Y'all don't even work today!"

They offer their excuses, but you don't care to hear. You shoo them off and tell them to go home.

Back inside, Ezra's washing his hands at the sink. You two are hidden from view.

"I got people starin at me wonderin when their food's gonna get started!" you grouse.

"And they will be fed shortly," Ezra responds casually–as if he has all the goddamn time in the world. He dries his hands with a few paper towels and tosses them in the trash.

Your shoulders fall. "I'm exhausted, Ezra," you whine, begging for sympathy. "My feet hurt. I smell like shit. I don't wanna deal with these people anymore."

"C'mere, starlette." He wraps one arm around your waist and pulls you close. His other hand slaps your asscheek, hard. You gasp and jump and it brings your bodies closer. He looks at you adoringly. "Your shift is nearly done and when my relief arrives--" He slides one hand down the center of your ass. "--I will hurry myself to your place of residence post-haste--" His fingers press against your most sensitive area through the thin, polyester fabric of your work pants. You whimper. "--and devour your sex until I am smothered and covered in your juices.”

You close your eyes and fight back a smile. Ezra is the only man you’ve been with to make good on his promises–well, when it came to sex, at least. “I’ll probably be asleep by the time you get there.�� 

“That’s never stopped me before,” he murmurs to you with hazy eyes.

You feel something hard press against you. Your whole body warms to the memory of waking up with Ezra heavy on top of you, fingers sliding in and out of your cunt. You melt against him like a slice of cheese. “Shit, Ezra,” you sigh. You wanna pull him into the manager’s office again like you did on your third shift. Leaned over the desk with your pants pulled just below your ass and Ezra’s apron tossed over his shoulder. You were tossing your ass back just as hard as he was slamming his hips. Never even got caught.

“Anybody workin here?!” a voice bellows from the dining room.

You immediately pull back from Ezra, though he is loath to let you go.

“I’m coming!” you shout.

“Yes, you will be,” mutters Ezra.

You grab a stray rag from the counter and toss it in his face with a frustrated huff. You straighten your clothes and rush to the front, doing your best to make peace with the upset guest.

+++++

[tac-bat]

Why I hate how the elders are treated and misinterpreted in a big chunk of the fandom. Rant!

Before we start

I mention fat phobia, and talk about how certain hair types and cultural clothing is described as "food" as a response to what some of the elders are perceived by alot of the fandom. These comments are not only directed at some elders, but many folks who have gotten representation from them are also affected these comments that many thrown around freely.

I’m at my breaking point and will get heated on an array of things but I don’t care

You're entitled to your own opinion, even if i heavily disagree with it. If you don't wanna read then just scroll, because I will rip apart the interpretations I talk about under the read more tag.

If you "don't see this happening" or believe this "doesn't happen" that doesn't mean it didn't happen, Tumblr isin't the only social media I have. I've dabbled in the official Discord, on Instagram, and god forbid Pinterest too, i've seen it all.

Let’s go in order, most issues I have a bone to pick with are more prevalent in some elders more than others.

Daleth

They’re just forgotten, really. Even with knowing what Isle looked like before. Flourishing even, populated seen in the switch trailer and even making an appearance in the Auroras' concert for runaways, they’re pretty much never talked about. And if they are they're just kinda only the butt of pee-paw jokes

Ayin

Their characterization is just confusing to me. I've seen a lot of them portrayed as happy-go-lucky. I’m not saying they can’t be happy, but from what I’ve seen, that’s all they are to a lot of folks in the fandom that I’ve seen. Which really confuses me because in their cutscene they wake up in a daze, notice us, are sort of like "ah, hi," and get straight to work. And they’re gentle, tipping the pot to the butterfly they make to enter. But then there's their orbit cutscene, where they look tired and a tad grouchy after being woken up—not mean, just tired. Again, nothing wrong with it, but it’s pretty one-dimensional to me to just see them as all that.

On a more bitter note, i've seen alot of "fat jokes" or straight up fatphobia in art and comments alike about their body, "Why are they so fat?" -a comment i've actually seen in the discord regarding Ayin. it's disgusting.

Teth

I have so much shit to say about them.

They're not mean simply because they took your light.

"But they snatched it away." Motherfucker, you're looking surface level. THINK!

Imagine you're dead, stuck in limbo for god knows how long, rotting away without anything to do. And you enjoy building and creating, and you were possibly the catalyst for the production of darkstone; your temple could be a goddamn factory for it! So much so that your anvil and hammer are in your constellation; they're a part of you. It’s what you love. And now that you're dead, with no light to fuel, no life to live, forced to sit there with broken shards, it'd bore you, drain you. And then a child appears with a flame; and for the first time in thousands of years, if not more, you can create, build, make something.

And you do.

You take the light without a second thought, regaining your strength and setting to work to help this child pass through your realm to the other elder. You just put all your focus on making the diamond, and when you finish and are proud of it, you send it up to the sky. You’ve created again. And in your orbit cutscene, you're much gentler, no longer bound to that soul-sucking abyss of nothing, so you honour the children who gave you light, your gift. Taking your time and presenting it to them with grace.

That’s what Teth does; that’s what they do. Yes, they seem like a more serious person, but they’re in no way mean. Did they take your light away? Yes. But putting yourself in their shoes for just a moment can make you understand why.

Samekh

I love the twins; I’m a fan of them, and I love Sah in particular with all my being. Which is why this one I will get very passionate about.

It baffles me how those two got the impression of being idiots who share a single brain cell. I don’t mind the jokes, but some people think that’s all they are. Which is just so wrong, like? How can you be so wrong? Would a ruler who built their fucking realm, Valley Triumph of all names, in a goddamn mountains? Would the most prosperous, decorated, and successful realm be led by idiots? Let me repeat that, They built the realm Valley of Triumph, in the fucking MOUNTIANS! Do you know how hard it is to make a city that size in those conditions? MOUNTAINS ARE FUCKING BRUTAL, WITH LESS OXYGEN, EVEN LESS WITH MASK'S, AND FOR HOW UNPREDICTABLE THE WEATHER IS ITS INSANE. Yet valley thrived! They thrived in those mountains, creating impossible architecture, floating buildings, and sports ranging from sliding to flying to manta racing.

Would idiots who share a brain cell accomplish that? No! It's incredible what the twins achieve—an amazing realm and, in my opinion, the capital of the sky. Eden, on the other hand, seems more like a sacred place where you ascend. Not to mention the Citadel? Hello??? It's fucking fantastic; it's incredible how they created such a beautiful realm in the mountains. They wanted races; they got them; they wanted enrichment; they have theatre, gondolas, even the coliseum, and races too.

The twins can be silly and serious, and they are shown to have the same rivalry as all siblings do. But they are not dumb idiots, not in the least.

Tsadi

Tsadi, like Ayins, is just confusing. I’m not too well versed, but I’ve seen iterations of them where they side with "Resh," who is really just a concept art character that has definitely changed from the base game in concept art. Even then, they've never officially appeared in-game; you just have those statues in Wasteland. And in those interpretations of seeing Resh as a full-fledged character, they’re seen as "evil," which I don’t agree with at all. I mention them because most of the time, Tsadi would side with Resh in the war to mant; them seeing Resh as pro-Darkstone in the war (the diamonds Teth makes, and that we light up, basically the main power source for sky), this would imply Tsadi destroyed their realm because they followed the "king." However, their sun shield is right there; based on the memories of wounded warriors, it shows that they were on the "sun side" of their friend. If they we're pro darkstone and was on the same side as the hypothetical "king" wouldn't they have a diamond shield?

"But the spear falling in warrior's and seeds memory could be them," would you expect Tsadi to attack their own realm, where civilians are in warrior memory? Attack their own PEOPLE for the reasons I stated above?

Lamed

Like most of the elders, they're pretty much forgotten. And frankly, I haven’t seen any character interpretations that stick out, so their section is more about how they’re mistreated. Mostly on their headscarf, which is confirmed to be based off a hijab by one of the devs, Ash. Who explains why we should be respectful about it.

And god, so many POC deal with shit already because their hair or cultural clothing are described as food or even worse which many hate. It's disheartening to see almost every joke or comparison refer to Lamed being an "Egg".

More stuff that piss me off

"Bad rulers"

I despise when folks call the elders "evil" or "bad rulers," not seeming to care for their people or even being seen as lazy, which baffles me. Have you watched the vault cutscene?

ALL OF THEM ARE ASSISTING ANCESTORS, AND EVERYONE IS LEADING, GUIDING, OR CREATING THINGS FOR THE ANCESTORS IN SOME WAY.

For fuck's sake, Flight Guide is Ayin's apprentice! Would someone who doesn't care about their people bother with an apprentice? Even a flight guide shares the same pattern on their pants as Ayin, and the same pattern on the flight post's. It's ridiculous how folks can spew the most disproven zero reading comprehension ever when this shit is right here.

And they're not saints; they made mistakes, of course, but I see them wanting the best for their people and the kingdom. But in the process, they made huge mistakes that piled up and spilled over, resulting in the kingdom's downfall. But it wasn’t done out of malice; they tried and messed up big time, but they weren't evil, not one bit.

How many treat Lamed and Teth when it comes to shipping

I can’t stop who you ship; as long as it’s not weird and illegal, it’s whatever for me. Some pairs are not for me because of personal preferences/ familial head cannons, but I do dabble in ships. Yet it’s more mellowed out to me just saying "cute" when I see fanart and moving on. But it irritates me that when Teth or Lamed are shipped with most people, they appear to be more submissive in some ways. I’m not saying they can’t be happy, but to me, in so much ship art, it seems like just because they look more feminine, they’re suddenly almost always a blushing or shy mess, or (and I hate to use this term) a tsundere for Teth in some other cases. But that’s completely my biased opinion.

Fucks sake in my earlier time in the fandom, I was a Lamed/Tsadi fan, but again, it’s mellowed out to me just seeing fanart and thinking it's cute and moving on if it comes naturally. But I didn’t make one meek and the other an alpha male or some dumb shit when I used to draw them as I've seen many do. I mention this because I can see some folks calling me hypocritical for pointing this out. But the reason it irritates me is when Teth or Lamed are paired with someone (who often appears to be masc) almost always seem out of character simply because they're with said person. Which rubs me the wrong way since they are usually almost always seen as fem presenting in many folks eyes. Again, I don't have an issue with the pairs themselves; it just irks me when only their personalities seem to be changed for the sake of it, where it's just out of character.

How some elders greatly overshadow others and leave them in the dust

I'm guilty of this, fucks sake most of my content is twin stuff. And while I can feed on alot of twin content here, many folks who are fans of any other elder's barely get crumbs, even less so with Daleth, Ayin, And Lamed who are pretty much left do the dust. Which I hate because i know why.

The reason, Twins and Teth and even Tsadi are so popular when they others aren't is because they're "conventionally attractive", all are fit, all are gorgeous and can be attractive to many. Yet so can the others be appreciated, yet they aren't. Again, i know a hypocrite because of my blog being mostly twin stuff, yet even blogs like mine that don't focus on a single elder barely draw Daleth, Ayin, and Lamed. It sucks ass.

I think that’s all. I’m just sick of how the elders are treated by everyone.

[lnights]

At the beginning of 2023, I saw a challenge called The Year Of The OTP: 12 prompts. 12 months. One ship. I chose BC/BC because I write One Thing™️

Some are short one shots, some are multi chapters, two are pure smut 😌 links and summaries below.

January: Snow

Prompt: Snow, Rating G.

Summary:

He puffed out, smoke mingling with the steam of his hot breath as he tilted his head back, watching the softly falling snow.

February: Valentine's Day

Prompts: Valentine's Day and established relationship/long distance. Rating E.

Summary:

Their Valentine's Day plans were interrupted by bad weather. That's not going to stop them.

March: Fresh Starts

Prompt: Fresh Starts. Rating M. Angel/Demon au, sequel to Long Way Down

Summary:

The elders had always said falling was the most painful thing that could happen to an angel. As Tommi had hit the water and felt bones breaking he could only think they had been correct, pain shooting through every nerve endings and as he slowly sank he wondered how he was even still alive, being quite literally tossed from one realm of existence to another was like falling from a plane without a parachute.

April: Painting you Blue

Prompt: University AU. Rating G. 5 chapters.

Summary:

but still… he was a teacher now. What the hell had he gotten himself into? He should have never let Niko and Joonas talk him into this Or Joel is a new teacher at the same university as his boyfriends and their good friends. He is not excited.

May: Flower Moon

Prompt: Flower language. Rating G. Part of my Wolfpack AU.

Summary:

Aleksi is learning a new wolf tradition and wants to surprise his mates.

June: Can You Hear the Silence Getting Loud?

Prompts: Soulmates. Rating M. 5 chapters, part of my Soulmate AU

Summary:

For years Aleksi has been happy with his soulmates, his family long cut off. Until a relative contacting him makes him question that choice.

July: Heaven (and Hell) on Earth

Prompts: Enemies to Lovers and Coffeeshop AU. Rating M. 5 chapters. Angel/Demon AU

Summary:

There were two men running the counter as he got there, looking at him with what could almost be called suspicion. One was tall, even taller than him, and muscly, while the other was rather short with curly honey colored hair. "Welcome," the shorter of the two said, "what can we get you this evening?" "Your strongest, largest espresso," Joel said bluntly. His insomnia had decided to kick his ass that night, at least he could try to stay awake and be productive rather than be in his half awake, half asleep zombie mode that it usually sent him into. The larger man chuckled a little and got to work on the drink while the smaller rang him up; there was something about them that kept Joel's attention on them, something about the shop that begged for his attention. Maybe it was the name, Sinful Coffee.

August: Weathering the Storm

Prompt: Storm. Rating T.

Summary:

Blind Channel and their crew gets stuck at an airport in their hectic tour schedule. Joel and Niko don't handle it well.

September: Beacon in a Storm

Prompts: hurt comfort, meeting the family, flood, shifter au. Rating T.

Summary:

Olli stared through the dark window of their home, trying to not panic. The rain was getting impossibly heavier and Joel and Aleksi still weren't back; the dirt road leading to town had to be flooded by now, they could be stuck in mud or washed away if they weren't careful. "We never should have sent them by themselves." Joonas mumbled, "we should have gone with."

October: Pop Princess, Hold My Hand

Prompts: Texting, couple costumes. Rating T.

Summary:

It's Joonas' turn to pick their Halloween costumes.

November: Be Careful What You Wish For

Prompt: Be Careful What You Wish For. Rating E.

Summary:

Tommi decides to show his boyfriends a new side of him

December: Opinion on the Season

Prompt: Holidays together. Rating G. Stand alone sequel to Rumors and Opinions.

Summary:

Niko sighed and exhaled the smoke from his lungs. Holidays were always an interesting time of year. They all had a lot of family to see and it could be a tad overwhelming; seeing so many relatives in a short period, let alone all the shopping they had to do, arranging travel, arguments over who's family home they will wake up in on Christmas morning…

[enaelyork]

Can I request about one shot that reader being General Veers(or some imperial gerneral)'s baby sister and reader dating Krennic. They caught you and krennic and he be like 'You broke her heart, I will break your bones'

Heeey ! Thx you ! First reader request since long long time ! Hope you'll enjoy it !

FANFIC CODE : +/- 1.5 k - 🔥xx - Reader(f) insert

✨Imperial ask are open ✨

[I don't care about any timeline in this story]

-Do not even think about it.

-What are you talking about ?

You looked at your elder brother with a mischievous look. Of course he noticed. He saw it as the smallest subtlety of each of your emotions. Nothing escaped Maximilian since you were children. As your eldest, he felt obliged to watch over you and protect you from the slightest danger that could occur in your proximity. But this time, he had noticed that danger fascinated you.

-The way you observe Director Krennic.

-I do not see what you're talking about.

Your smile said otherwise. You tried to hide it behind the glass of expensive alcohol that the waiter presented you, but it was in vain. No more than the red that now pigmented your cheeks. It wasn't the first time he could have overheard your interest in this man. Especially since your work had brought you a lot closer to it. Krennic had noticed your talents as an architect and very quickly, you realized that your profession was not your only common points.

He too knows what it’s like to live in the shadow of others.

It was hard not to think about him constantly. Especially since the kiss and the night you spent together during a previous gala. Maximilien had never known it and the anxiety of finding out had lessened as the weeks passed. Since then, you have reoffended several times without taking the risk of being caught. Work was the perfect alibi to hang out with the director without arousing your brother's suspicions.

Until tonight.

Krennic didn't miss a bit of your supposed discomfort. He was there, at the other end of this gala room and observing you with his mischievous look. From where you were, you could easily guess the sparkle of amusement that sparkled in his electric gaze, so fascinatingly blue that you could easily drown in it.

- Y/N, stop this right now.

- You're getting ideas, Max. There is absolutely nothing between Krennic and me.

It amazed you to be able to hold this kind of speech without anyone seeing the mask of lies. Max might be good at many things, but he was a poor observer when it came to noticing your flaws. The pressure you felt above your shoulders seemed to ease as you claimed you were only related to Krennic through work, or so you thought, until you hear it growl again.

-Keep playing me for an idiot, little sister. But I already told you: Krennic is not the man for you. For no one.

If he is interested in you it is because he sees an interest in it. For sure he was interested in you. Her gaze hovering over your long figure and the gorgeous silver-embellished dress you had chosen to attract her was irrefutable proof of that. Could it be that Max had noticed it too? If so, you admired his self-control. Your ex-boyfriend ended up missing teeth for a lot less than that. It was absolutely necessary that the storm cease, that the growing tension which reigned in the room subsides, but it is this propitious moment that Krennic chooses to approach you. You saw him move away from this woman by placing a hand on her hips before coming to you like a moth attracted by the light. Your heart quickened to the rhythm of his assured step and when he finally came up to him, he considered your brother as an emperor in conquered land.

- General Veers…

You wanted to burst out laughing. It was too solemn, too formal, too everything. Orson had his own way of provoking the aristocracy and he took great pleasure in teasing Max before your eyes. The latter responded as coldly as a gravedigger about to bury a body.

- Director Krennic.

- I am delighted that you responded to the senator’s invitation. Hoping that we will have time to chat a little if the opportunity presents itself.

- I'm a busy man.

- Obviously. Especially since you are in charming company. His gaze flowed over you like a trail of incandescent lava and you were unable to take your eyes off him. Some considered his attire ridiculous, but in your eyes, the whiteness of his uniform and the cape he was so keen to wear at all times gave him a presence that few Imperial officers could match.

- Miss Veers… His voice had the flavor of honey and reminded you of the way your name rolled on his lips in the hollow of your ear in all other circumstances.

No doubt he would seek to see you in private tonight, regardless of the people around you. Krennic was a professional at provocation and he never missed an opportunity to defy convention. Before waiting for the slightest reaction from your elder, or even from you, Krennic passed you to join another group of officers and some of their companions whom he greeted warmly, leaving you to plunge into mortuary silence.

- I want him dead. Your eyes rolled to your brother who seemed petrified by the anger brewing inside him.

-If he still speaks to you like this, if he still looks at you like this...

Fortunately, you weren't yet drunk enough to tell him that Krennic had already laid more than just his eyes on you. This threatening way he addressed these few words made you hesitate about the relevance of such a clandestine relationship. Was it really necessary to forbid you from seeing Krennic to please your brother?

No.

It was all over. You were tired of having to sacrifice your needs for the sake of the Veers family. These few months spent far from Coruscant, far from their influence, had allowed you to understand your true needs and it seemed obvious that Orson had greatly contributed to this emancipation. You remembered those few clandestine dinners in his office discussing for long hours about what had pushed you to accept this position with him, so far from the luxury of the capital. Krennic was a busy man, but you had been troubled by his constant attention to you.

He couldn't use you. It was impossible.

Taking advantage of a few minutes of inattention, you managed to escape the attention of your brother, who was too busy exchanging military strategy with other officers. The alcohol had flowed more than necessary into your glass and you felt the need to refresh yourself when a hand delicately grabbed your wrist, trapping you inside a toilet.

- He knows. Krennic's smooth voice slipped into your ears. Against your back you could feel his body pressing against yours and the tightness of the place still allowed you to face him.

- You would be dead if that were the case.

He chuckled arrogantly. As if he was immortal, untouchable. It was not knowing Maximilian Veers when we talked about his darling little sister. Your face was so close to yours that you could feel the alcohol oozing from his breath and making you even more drunk. He made you dizzy, his powerful scent, his warmth, his hand tenderly caressing your cheek.

- But he will have to accept it. he whispers. His eyes regarded the hem of your dress rolled up to mid-thigh with burning, uncontrollable desire. It was terribly hot and it wasn't just the alcohol.

- He has no say. You whisper, wrapping your arms around his neck. His lips had reached yours before you had the chance to taunt him further. He tasted like mint, luxury alcohol and bergamot. You knew that from now on the galaxy could collapse around you, only its embrace counted.

- Director… You whispered as his gloved hand slipped between your thighs. Your head tilted back again when he crossed the edge of your panties. He was teasing you, trying to push you to the edge of orgasm and his lips were tenderly nibbling your neck while he now caressed your clit. Your breath escaped you and you barely managed to contain the moans that tried to escape from your mouth.

- What a good girl you are, Miss Veers. So sensitive, so impatient...

You were peaking. It didn’t take much longer for him to bring you to orgasm. Your hand was clinging to the wall of the small room when suddenly a violent impact against the door made you jump. You barely heard the Director's curse, too busy gathering your wits and readjusting your dress to compose yourself before leaving the bathroom. No doubt a woman in a very hurry, unable to wait a few minutes. You giggled at the idea of ​​imagining the face of this shrew when she saw the two of you going out. But when you discovered the identity of the troublemaker, your heart skipped a beat.

Maximilian.

Your complexion, red with desire, turned pale almost immediately while Krennic cleared his throat, uncomfortable but not disconcerted. Your brother's eyes could have been lasers and shot you on the spot. You had a choice. Shut up, defend yourself, justify yourself. But there was nothing to justify. You had just been caught red-handed being groped by your boss. By a man Maximilien hated. It was reality, you couldn't escape it.

-Max'. Please. You breathed without waiting for the slightest reassurance from him. I can…I have to…

Your brother raised a hand towards you, telling you to shut up immediately. Coldly, his gaze turned to Krennic and you were surprised that he was not yet disfigured.

- Let things be clear between us, Krennic. I don't like you. You saw the director's lips stretch into a mischievous smile that literally made you melt.

- Like many people here. Fortunately for me, your sister is not one of them.

You stood ready to restrain Maximilian's angry impulse. But he didn't do anything about it. Probably because avoiding a scandal in the middle of a senatorial banquet was his priority. Without taking his eyes off Krennic, he put a hand on your shoulder to pull him towards him, as if he were already trying to exfiltrate you in this ambush.

- Know one thing. Director Krennic. I can't keep my sister away from you, but if by misfortune I learn that you somehow broke her heart, I'll break every one of your bones and crush your arrogant smile.

[hannigramislife]

#5 Scene from my Random Mdzs Fanfiction

Prompt: What if 3zun reincarnated in modern au?

Scene: Frustrated with Lxc for warming up to Jgy in this life, and angry at himself for feeling upset at them in the first place, Nmj picks a fight. Does not go well.

"Why are you so mad?" Lan Xichen was confused at his friend's attitude.

"I'm not mad," Nie Mingjue gritted his teeth. "Leave it alone."

"No, let's talk about it." Lan Xichen insisted. "I don't want you to bottle anything up. Tell me."

"What do you care?" Nie Mingjue snapped back.

Lan Xichen blinked, genuinely shocked. "Why wouldn't I care?"

"One would think you're used to it." Nie Mingjue said bitterly, and he hated it. He didn't want to be angry at Lan Xichen, he didn't want to raise his voice either, but he couldn't help it.

Lan Xichen froze. "Da-ge...say what you mean. Used to– what, not...not caring?" He was confused, having never had Nie Mingjue talk to him so harshly. Even in their past lives, the elder had always been gentle with Lan Xichen, as if his mere presence softened his edges.

Nie Mingjue's gaze was scathing. "You did just fine last time, didn't you?"

Lan Xichen was speechless, which spurned the other on.

"It didn't take much for you to get over my death. As long as you had Jin Guangyao by your side, you were fine, right? So I think you'll survive me keeping my distance just as fine."

Nie Minjgjue could have slapped him, struck him with his heavy hand that has broken countless bones without breaking a sweat, and it would have hurt less than his accusation.

"Fine," Lan Xichen repeated, voice wavering, his family teachings the only thing holding his composure together. "You think I was fine? You think you died and I didn't care?"

"It sure as hell seemed that way!" Nie Mingjue snapped back. "Didn't seem like you were that eager to help me rest in peace either."

"I thought you were at peace!" Lan Xichen defended himself. "You- We always knew there was a chance you'd die young. I thought you'd made your peace with that. I-I didn't know. I didn't think-

That appeared to be the wrong thing to say, as Nie Mingjue just grew angrier. "God, you really were so blind, weren't you? The most capable cultivator of the time, letting a murder happen right under his nose, basically handing Jin Guangyao a step-by-step tutorial on how to get rid of me."

Lan Xichen's heart shuddered in his chest, shame and guilt churning up his insides. No, not this- not this again.

Those thoughts had managed to haunt him across lifetimes, apparently. Nothing hurt Lan Xichen more than thinking about his naivety, his gullible nature, and how much it had cost his friend. How could he have been so accepting of Nie Mingjue's death? He didn't even think of foul play being a possibility, not even from the man who had reason to want Nie Mingjue dead.

Nie Mingjue took his silence for hesitation, and hated it.

"Did you really never doubt him despite my warnings?" He asked. "Or did you just want to keep him so badly you could have forgiven my murder?"

Lan Xichen wondered, in the back of his mind, how A-Yao had been able to shoulder Nie Mingjue’s anger for as long as he had; surely, it had similarly crushed him, to hear such hurtful words from your closest friend? Vicious words falling from the other half of your soul, dipped in poison? Is that how his love had turned into hatred strong enough to push Jin Guangyao into taking his life?

Did Nie Mingjue feel similarly about Lan Xichen? Was his crime of association so grave that Nie Mingjue resented him?

Privately, the self-destructive part of his brain thought he did. He must have. It was Lan Xichen's carelessness that led to his death. His actions that resulted in his qi-deviation. And it was because of his foolish heart that Nie Huaisang - gentle, carefree Huaisang, who was never interested in anything other than arts and poetry and life itself - had to discard everything in order to avenge his brother.

And Lan Xichen? Where was he, then?

Holding his sworn brother's murderer in his arms. Comforting him, telling him everything was okay, they had each other, they would be fine.

And who was there for Nie Mingjue? For his little brother, who had to play at adoring the man who took his da-ge from him?

Lan Xichen felt sick.

Nie Mingjue stared at him as Lan Xichen wiped the overflowing tears from his face. He felt uncomfortable, not knowing how to help Lan Xichen, how to make him feel better, how to keep his fiery anger down. That had never been his forte; that was what Jin Guangyao was for. It was in Guangyao that could always put an end to Lan Xichen’s unceasing worry, who could reign in Nie Mingjue’s temper, even when he was smack in the middle of it.

It had worked, for a while, the three of them. Lan Xichen had wanted them to be happy.

It could have never lasted.

“I wish,” Nie Mingjue said slowly. “That I had done it, back in Nightless City.”

“Done what?” Lan Xichen asked, almost automatically, his eyes downcast.

“Killed him,” the elder said, making Lan Xichen freeze. “Then myself, too. So many lives could have been spared. You would have mourned him, but found love again. At least, then, maybe you could have been happy.” Nie Mingjue and Jin Guangyao had been each other’s doom; there was no version of their story where they ended up happy. At the very least, they could have chosen not to drag Lan Xichen down with them.

Lan Xichen, if possible, looked even more devastated.

“How can you say that to me?” Lan Xichen whispered, thoroughly broken-hearted. “How can you tell me I would have been happy without the two of you? How can you say I wouldn’t have mourned your death until my eyes bled salt?”

“Lan Xichen-“

But Lan Xichen wasn’t listening, his wide eyes welled up with tears and hands trembling as he fell to his knees. “Have I failed you so much, Da-ge? Was my love so weak, so useless you can’t even see what you both meant to me?” Lan Xichen allowed himself to sob, a familiar and soothing voice in his mind reminding him it was okay to cry. “Forgive this one, Da-ge, please, for his stupidity, for his weak heart. You deserved better.”