#guess i'll have to search n if i find nothing satisfying enough i can always change it back?

[theseandi]

the urge to change my theme has been strong for a few days but this one is so well curated that idk if i can do better 😩

[shadowworks]

What’s Said Is Said

Pairing: Fae!Hawks X F!Reader

Warnings: Dub-con themes, light bondage, oral, virgin reader(‘ye ‘ol times idk man) Fae’s being dicks

Word Count: 5.7k

Credit; Thank you lovely wife for creating this beautiful banner! You’re always the sweetest, I swear, @pleasantanathema

A/N: This piece is part of the, Pleasant & Strider Present: The Smut Pile Fantasy AU Collab! Like before, this is written in third person but is still a reader x Hawks fic. Maybe one day I'll write in second person. Today is not that day.

Hope you Enjoy~ 

***

Everyone in town heard the warning of the Dark Forest. Never wander beyond the treeline or else you’ll be snatched by the fae. And while this did scare the children from their southern borders, there were those in adulthood who took the fable with a grain of salt. The leaves and branches shroud the forest floor in this never ending night, and the winds blew through the trees like a soft, ominous whisper calling out, “this way” —But it did not mean there were faeries.

Still, the young traveler moved forward.

She wandered slowly—carefully through the wood with her lantern raised high. She wasn’t certain how long she’d been looking for her cat. As noticeable as her black cat was in a town bathed in sunlight, it was quite the opposite under the thick cover of leaves. But she would not abandon her friend who dulled the dreadful nights, who turned her wet frown into a soft laugh. No, she’d find him, and they’d leave the forest together.

She called out again searching through the wild brush. She looked for motion across the grass--the snap of a twig, a shadow across her light. But still, there was nothing. 

 In fact, it was silent. She slowed her steps to a stop, turning her head to the side. Her brows crinkled together. The wind that shook the branches, that rippled her dress had ceased, and in the moment- so had the sounds of the forest. She held her breath, jerking toward the other side as she felt a figure standing in the shadows. But she exhaled her breath. There was nothing.

When the silence remained like a fog among the ominous trees, she eventually lowered her lantern. There was great reluctance, but she could not hold still like the animals. She had a selfish thought of wanting to turn back around and hurry home...Instead she tread lightly on her worn shoes, pressing forward against the web of mossy stones

If something was out there...She’d do well to avoid it.  

The young traveler’s steps did not make it far, however, as she stopped dead in her tracks.

A muffling noise seemed to be coming from all around, but then the wind brushed at her dress. And on the winds, there was a whisper. She whipped around to the noise on reflex, clutching her lantern toward her chest. The voice was calling out from afar. She understood little wisps of words as it grew louder, and it gradually pushed forward. Until-

“My, what a pretty thing you are,” it whispered against the shell of her ear. 

She stifled a cry. Her eyes darted back but found no one was there. Her hand clamped over her ear she could have sworn she felt a hot breath against her ear. She was sure of it.

She knew she had to flee. Her head reasoned to look harder and then get out.  She began picking up pace and walking backwards, yet another jolt of panic  ran through her. The forest floor was layered in dips and curves of overgrown roots and her foot had caught against one. Her arm swung out, and the lantern slipped from her fingers. 

When it smashed into shards a few feet away, another breeze swept along. It was only made strong enough to snuff out the flame, which licked the oil among the broken glass. Then it was gone.

 Suddenly, a gloved hand reached out and caught her mid-air. The grip was firm and held her weight with more than enough ease to pull her in. The maiden looked on.

There holding her hand was a radiant young man. A smirk pulled at his mouth crookedly, and the gold in his eyes was strikingly crisp and gleamed in the darkness. She noticed his pupils were slit as they looked like her lost friend’s. His hair was pushed back, and she found the shape of his face was more handsome than anyone she’d seen in town—even his pointed ears were charming 

“Well well, look what I found.” He said, breaking the silence. His hold on hers softened but he did not let go. “What are you doing out this far in the woods, little dove? Been some time since a human’s come this way.” 

She did not respond at first, did not move her stare from his brilliant looks. For a moment, she could not remember what she was meant to be doing.

This struck a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Oh, what’s that look for? You still with me?” He teased. He reached for her cheek with his other hand and leaned forward to inspect her features for any sign of liveliness. “I was hoping you hadn’t lost your head—Little do-o-o-o-ove?” 

His sing-songy voice brought a spark of recognition back into her gaze, and a heavy blush bloomed over the bridge of her nose. This wasn’t like her, she’d never done such a thing before.

“Ah, there she is!” He said in praise, swiping his thumb across her cheekbone. She was certain he could feel the heat. “Heh, careful now. I wouldn’t lose myself out here if I were you.”

“I’m so sorry,” she managed just before shaking her head in shame. “I don’t know what came over me.” 

 “Oh, but I do.” He returned matter-of-factly. “You’re not the first to fall for this devilishly charming fae you see before you.”

Fae. Human. He tossed the words around so casually one would think he spoke sincerely. She stared for a moment with a tilt of her head.

“And by fae you mean...?” 

“What, you don’t know?”

She paused. 

As if on cue, her curious eyes fell behind his rather handsome and princely black tunic, finding an incredible display attached to his back. And oh, did they show what he was. They took the shape of black feathered wings but they certainly weren’t. Those glossy wings were transparent like a dragonfly, and in the veins of each side they glimmered a bloody red. The lines fanned out in perfect detail, each one resembling a feather of a bird.

“You’re…! You really exist,” She gaped, shifting her wide eyes back to his gold ones.

The faerie smiled back, knowing full well where her gaze had fallen. It was almost as though he’d seen this before, actually. There was something a little too cocky behind that pretty mouth, and  she wasn’t liking his satisfied smile very much.

The faerie then stepped back in proper form, and she watched him dip low in an elegant bow, bringing her knuckles to his lips. She tried not to think of the second rise of heat on her nose.

“They call me Hawks, my dear.” The fae greeted officially, but the maiden did not like his response.

“They being whom?”

Hawks glanced up. “Pardon?” 

“They being whom?” 

“You must have guessed there's more than just me.”

“I have.” 

“Then why do you ask?” Hawks wondered, his eyebrow quirked. 

“Well...if the rumors of you existing are true, then it’s right to assume all the others are true, right? Are “they” the good kind that leave lilies in your hair, or are “they” the kind that steal your left shoe?”

Or were they kind that snatched infants from their cribs, or lost travelers in the night? But she dared not ask that part. 

They stared at one another, though Hawks stared in a way that sized her up. The impish gleam in his golden eyes was snuffed, and the curve of his smile faded. It was as though she’d said something wrong—yet it was hard to tell.

She opened her mouth to explain but that’s when the wind gently pushed at her hair.

“Pretty thing, pretty thing.”

Her hand tensed under his leather fingers, fixing a frightened look toward the returning whispers. This time though, she was not the only one who heard this. Hawks straightened his winged back, and turned to the direction of the voice.

“Well shit. Looks like these bastards caught your scent.” Hawks said with an ungracious tone. “Leave it to the Unseelie to spoil everything…” 

She stared at the back of Hawks’ head incredulously. Did she hear him correctly? They could smell her? The Unseelie were the malevolent fae she’d heard about before.They were the Goblins who stole human faces; the Pale Men who ate children and left nothing but their shoes. And now, they were the fae who call to you with an echo on the wind.

“Not again.” She muttered, a distressed anger snapped inside. 

 Hawks looked back alarmed, having felt the loss of warmth in his hand. Lifting his chin, he watched as her beautifully framed figure stalked off, moving deeper into the tree’s shadows.

“Hold on, wait!” Hawks called out, extending an outstretched hand. The maiden was heading towards dangerous grounds, ones which were outside his claimed boundaries and near the Unseelie even Hawks found to be tasteless. 

“No, no, no, no!” She repeated as she hurried away on shaking legs, “I’ve dealt with enough faeries on this adventure, thank you! I came here for my cat, not to mingle with smelling fae.”

“Your cat?” Hawks asked. 

“Yes, my cat!” She said, turning herself to face him. “He slipped out earlier and made a run for it out here!” 

Her eyes were able to study his sharply dressed figure in black, all of him lit by a red glow coming from the veins inside his wings. For a moment, she thought how out of place his attire was in the Dark Forest. 

“Is that right?” He mused, letting those gold eyes fall to the ground. They were pinned on something, but she couldn’t see from her spot. “And just out of curiosity; how do you plan to find him in the dark?”

His boot kicked at a remnant of the lantern, she heard the glass crunch under his foot. When Hawks lifted his gaze, his expression was unreadable.

 “Look, we don’t have too much time.The Unseelie won’t harm your pet, but a human like you? I can assure you, they won’t keep you a pretty corpse if they snatch you up.“ 

His black and red wings began to flutter to a rapid speed until they were an illuminating blurr. They lifted him from the ground effortlessly, and he flew through the dark with a graceful air around him.

“If you come with me and wait for the Unseelie to pass, we’ll look for your cat then, alright?” Hawks landed softly before her, offering a stretched arm and open palm for her to take. 

She hesitated, looking him over for any sign that read foul play. He was one of the fae after all, and his kind gesture was given so suddenly. “You’ll look for him, with me? I...Why-why would you want to help me?” 

Hawks liked holding her hand. He didn’t wait for her reach and grasped hers, hanging at her side.The soothing leather rubbed against her skin as he laced their fingers. His gaze was fixed on the curves of their hold, the flash of her wrist. A smile softened his face. 

“Well, I would be lying if I said I didn’t want you all to myself in the big bad woods,” Hawks confessed before flicking his catlike eyes up. “Hey. It’ll be alright, dove. Let’s find you someplace, safe.”  

***

Hawks eventually dropped the back of her knees, while settling her back down on the ground. He’s the first to move, and he walked with purpose towards a particular tree.

She however, was occupied with the fog that rolled in this part of the forest. It was colder here, the trees were larger—and she’s unsure how to explain, but the blackened bark on these trees was more ominous than the ones she’d passed on her own.

“Hawks,” she tentatively called, crossing her arms over her chest, “Where is this place?”

 Hawks kept facing the tree. He was intently regarding the natural grooves of the bark, cupping his chin in thought. 

“My neck of the woods! Thought it’d be safer to mask your scent with mine.” He mused. There was another pause before he saw it, and the tips of his fingers pushed on the bark pattern to his right—the wood cracked.

Hawks turned towards the maiden. He noticed her expression slowly shine as the door opened, leading to a spiral staircase inside. He beckoned her forward with a reach toward her figure.  She didn’t hesitate to walk forward and take his hand. 

It took a moment to reach the top of the staircase, but beyond those steps was a hollowed out room. Rich leaves with layered vines melded atop the ceiling, and a few human items were placed around. Among them included a velvet armchair in the corner, with thick blankets neatly folded on the cushion. 

Hawks gestured toward the chair, dropping the maiden’s hand. He then tipped his head back as he waved an arm above.

The canopy that made up the ceiling had started trembling, the vines falling loose and gradually stopping. Then they blinked, like they had eyes of their own. And each one ignited with a dim lit glow like a firefly across the evening sky, giving the room a soft warmth it hadn’t before.  

“That’s beautiful.”

Hawks dropped his head in surprise. She had stopped moving halfway across the room, with attentive eyes on him. He could see a sheen of wonder on her lovely features, a trace of a smile on her lips. Hawks smiled back.

Good, she was winding down. 

“You should see the vines further in! Now, those would really take your breath away.” 

“You own more than this place?”

“My neck of the woods, remember?” 

Hawks took to playing with his leather gloves, pulling on the fingers to slip off, “So this cat of yours must be quite something. I’ll admit, I’m not all interested in human pets, but I find it curious you’d risk being kidnapped for one.”

The small glow from the vines had revealed a patchy, web of plants around the chair, violet lilies had bloomed every which way. A few more even sprung up from the cushion as she lifted the blankets. 

Maybe sitting on the floor would be preferable...

“He was my father’s cat,” she said. She moved to set the blankets down, but Hawks had come beside her, graciously collecting them from her arms. He turned, aiming to put them on the wooden desk—(which was clearly made by human hands.) “He’s the last member of my family, and honestly, that’s more than enough for a reason. ‘Least for me, anyway.”

“So you’re alone?” 

She paused. She did not expect such a blunt response, nor did she expect Hawks glancing over his shoulder, curious, would leave her throat tightening. 

She quickly turned, pretending to find the black dahlia's on the wall more fascinating, “Yes. It’s been that way since last autumn. My mother died when I was a kid, and my father was killed in a hunting accident. Now, it’s just me.” 

“Just you, huh? No males waiting in the wings to ask for your hand in...whatever?” Hawks made it sound like it was absurd. Maybe it was. 

She huffed a laugh, smiling at a dahlia, “I don’t think so.”

She was of lowly status with a deceased father who never offered an engagement. He hadn’t flaunted her youth and beauty at social gatherings, or in other towns for that matter. There simply wasn’t time for those affairs when hard labor was required to keep from starving.

“Just when I thought I couldn’t be more fortunate.” 

Hawks’ hands slipped around her hips and firmly turned her. She wasn’t used to being touched, not like this. Her skin prickled under his bare fingers, and a familiar heat burned the curves of her cheeks. They were face to face, and a breath closer. 

“Did you know I almost let you slip by? It’s not uncommon for humans to venture this far in. Figured you’d turn back around once you couldn’t find who you were calling for, but of course, heh, you fell.” At those words, his thumb began stroking small circles against her hip. Each stroke across the bone jolted down her body, “But when I caught you, I saw it. Saw how scared you were. And I knew...you didn’t want to be alone.” 

“Well, yes. I wish I was never alone,” she confessed softly. She slowly began pressing against his hand, just a little, “but that’s something everyone wishes for, isn’t it?” 

Hawks smiled at her. Though it did not crinkle the corner of his sharp eyes. “Suppose you’re not wrong there. So why not have someone change that? Why not fill the void? Isn’t that something you’d want?”

With light pressure Hawks steered her backwards, easing her against the stretch of vines across the wall. He didn’t break his stare. 

But she could only stare back for so long, dropping her gaze under the intensity in his golden eyes. Delicately, she managed a small voice and replied, “I don’t know.”

Hawks didn’t like this answer. He grasped under her jaw, firmly lifting those timid eyes back to his slightly lidded ones. 

“Oh, no, no, I think you do,” Hawks countered. His voice was hushed, a husky and darkened tone,“You’re a maiden. Back home, you’re not allowed to want for things, right? Just sit there and look pretty, keep your mouth shut. Oh but, little dove, here? All you have to do...is give in. Fill that loneliness with your desires.”

She fell still, slowly exhaling through her parted mouth as he tilted his jaw, lingering near her lips. She breathed in his deep herbal scent, and a feeling gathered in her which blurred her thoughts with a subtle ache.

Hawks waited for her motionless to pass, as though he knew what she didn’t. He relished in her flushed features, and he smiled satisfied when her eyes fluttered shut. She leaned forward, and Hawks claimed her lips. 

There she goes.

 He kissed her in a way that slipped his tongue past her lips, exploring her warmth and digging his fingers in her jawline, controlling. She was forced to stay still, breathing in when he’d part, only to be crushed into his lips once more. 

Her head was spinning, so she didn’t notice a pair of thick coils slowly creeping down the wall and slinking around her wrists. Not until a tightening on her skin, and a sudden wrench on her arms, had ripped her from Hawks’ mouth. The lively vines from above yanked her forward, and Hawks stepped back. 

While she tried digging her heels in the moss to stop their pulling, the vines only wrenched her wrists back harder. She stumbled into the center of the room. Then they braided into one, hoisting her arms up together, her feet partly touching the ground. 

“Hawks!” She called, tugging back on the vines, “What is this? Why are you—“

“—Like I said before, we need to mask your scent,” Hawks said as he strolled nonchalantly from the wall. He brushed his hand across her waist and circled round to stand behind, “And there’s really only one way for my scent to stay on you.” 

She tried glancing around, but she couldn’t crane her neck that far, not where she could see him properly. Hawks paused for a moment, and seemingly was fiddling with something near his wings. He was quiet, which only made her tense. She listened for some indication of what he was doing, waiting for him to say something. 

Finally, a loud tear of fabric filled the room. Her dress loosened at the shoulders, and cool air brushed her mid-back. Her mouth gaped in a muted gasp. She could only listen as the tear ripped again, and again, with more skin exposed downward.

“You—You can’t expect me to walk out there without a dress!” She countered shakily. She tried biting back the shame bubbling in her throat. 

“Oh, certainly not. What kind of fae do you take me for?” He asked, still tearing up her long sleeves. She looked back again, this time she had noticed a red object in his curled grip, gleaming and fairly plush.

A feather?

“I’ll have you wear something better than these rags.” 

It took little time before pieces of cloth littered the floor, allowing her simple dress to fall in a puddle around her feet, at last. But Hawks wasn’t done. He knelt softly in the navy fabric, lifting her ankles one after the other, sliding off her worn shoes. They gave a light thunk when he tossed them near the armchair. 

Amidst his working hands, the maiden struggled with her feelings. A part of her wanted the crawling binds to let her go, have her drop so she may cover her breasts. She also wanted to kick Hawks for shredding her damn dress into nothing. Better clothes or not, the dress was still hers. But ultimately what curbed her resistance towards Hawks was the guilty pang she felt for doubting him. He was there to protect her; to keep the Unseelie from finding her. And in part, it helped that his light touch pricked at her lower muscles. It kept her wishing for that feeling on the skin again...If only it weren’t so embarrassing. 

“Are you scared?” Hawks asked.

The vines must have turned her at one point, for Hawks was kneeling in front of her and peering up with a gentle hand on her outer thigh. The hand with the blood coloured feather uncurled, and the very feather slipped through his fingers like it was alive. It soared up and behind him to blend against his black wings. Then suddenly, it was just another vein.

“I uhm…” She tried managing a calmer tone, but it remained shaken, “I don’t know what to...”

“I know, dove. Trust me, I know,” he soothed, running a hand up and down her thigh in assurance, “Won’t alway be like that, though, not after we’ve done this a few times.”

There wasn’t much time to fixate on what he meant, as two fingers hooked under her last garment and pulled it down her leg to the floor.

Now there was nothing in his way.

Hawks leaned in to press his lips along her inner thigh, trailing up slowly, gently. As he neared the curve of her sex, he hiked the back of her thigh on his shoulder, then her other one followed. Those sneaky binds were clever, really. They always knew when to hoist her higher, and they comfortably propped her in this new position. 

“Hawks, hold on, hold on,” she pleaded. It was moving too fast—the sudden shift from the ground left her startled. 

Hawks didn’t listen.

His predatory eyes flicked up to find hers watching, her beautiful eyes wide as a doe’s. This made him smirk, though in a way she hadn’t seen before, “Maidens always scream, but I wonder what you’ll say?”

With those words, Hawks tongue delved between her sensitive slit—and she tossed her head back. She was breathing in sharply. Her hips impulsively stuttered toward his mouth as his tongue stroked long and deep along her sensitive spot, but it didn’t compare to when he intentionally flicked against a bundle of nerves.

Oh my god. Oh fu —She tensed, her back arching into the touch. It was a hot pleasure that wildly pulsed inside her, something intense she never felt ‘till then. She had roamed a hand between her legs before in her quiet home, always alone, always rushed. This? This paled, it had never been this much.

Hawks was clearly in tune to her body's spasms. She writhed against his open mouth, while he was pressing and swirling his tongue on the bundle in concentration, his hands slinked up to hold her hips closer. He was set on one thing, his pace was building faster to it. And oh, it rewarded him so handsomely—a rush of excitement struck down to his groin from the sound. Her cries, her moans, her unwinding pitched voice; she was becoming his with every breath. 

“Haw-Haw-aks,” it kept breaking from her lips with harsh gasps; her head hung back towards the canopy with glossy eyes. Oh god, she wanted to thread her fingers in his gold locks and press him further in her sex—Yes, fuck, right there, his mouth feels so good. Her shame be damned, all she wanted was for him to keep going. 

An unseen smile curled slightly on Hawks’ lips. 

“That’s it, little dove,” he coaxed softly between laps, “Just let my name slip out...just like that.”

He returned to latch on her clit. He sucked in hard with a wet noise, and a loud sob wrenched from her lungs. There was so much vigor, he didn’t cease, her winding pleasure rose higher, tenser, with her shaky thighs clamping tight on each side of his head. 

“ Ha-Hawks, keep going, oh, keep going, fuck, keep—“ The spasms ripped through her with another sob breaking from her mouth. Her muscle walls clenched violently. She fell into a sense of ecstasy and her orgasm released. 

Bleeding hell...She could not believe how wonderful she felt. She was so light in the head.

Hawks lapped along her folds as she rode out the last wave of her climax. He took certain care to run his mouth over her slit, which seeped with glistened come. As he finished, he wiped the corner of his mouth with his knuckle.

“Well, what’s this? Where did my shy maiden go?” He teased, looking up toward her with a playful grin, “You were making the sweetest sounds up there.”

She made an expression which had Hawks chuckling. She really was a pretty girl, with such pretty timid eyes. 

Hawks eased her legs off his shoulders, setting her down so she could step on the wood. It was a little hard though, as her tiptoes wobbled about until the vines dropped her lower. After, Hawks pushed up to stand. He pressed his body against hers and he sealed her lips with his. It was short, but she noted her own taste on his tongue before he parted. 

“You did good, dove. Heh, ready for me now? It’s my turn.” 

He then turned her. It wasn’t surprising Hawks was leading her along with little chance to respond, already brushing his lips across her neck. A hand cupped her breast and began squeezing, while his thumb rolled her nipple with tact, “Don’t worry, I’ll make this feel good...So damn good.”

He might even break her.

“But doesn’t this hurt?” She asked breathlessly. She felt naive, but that’s what the married women in town said. There was pain, and it ended with blood.

Hawk gave a reply she did not expect. His mouth which trailed gently down the curve of her neck, sucked hard into her smooth skin. An involuntary shiver ran down her spine, and her lips opened.

“You feel that? It hurt a little, didn’t it?” He whispered against her ear, “Can’t promise it won't hurt, but I can at least promise my cock will leave you twitching. You’ll be moaning, and when you come again, it’ll be when I’m deep inside you.”

She felt something thick rub between her legs, just then. The hand that toyed with her breast started roaming downward to pull back her hips. His other hand had been working on his belt prior, taking himself in hand with mild strokes. 

The lazy work on himself was fine. This wasn’t about him, well—for now, at least. He’d focus on his needs once the intended plan was carried out. But until then, keeping her aroused was Hawks’ priority. 

“Just relax...tilt your hips a little more,” he instructed, all while slicking the head of his cock like he’d done for his length. Once ready, he began lining himself toward her entrance, “Yes, that’s right, little dove. Precisely like that.”

She braced her arms against the vines with fingers curled in a tight grip, all while trying to relax her body like Hawks had said. But it was difficult to persist as Hawks advanced, and he slid his swollen cock inside her. A gasp slipped from her lips, her spine curved. He was thick. And as if he were forging through, she felt him strike his hips in shallow thrusts through her wet entrance, sink deeper in her stretching, and pulsing walls. 

It hurt, but a familiar ache spread. 

“You’ll enjoy it more if you relax.” Hawks' voice rasped thickly. He placed a hand on her lower back, gently rubbing at her spine. His length was still buried, feeling her clench--Ah, fuck. She was damn tight. He wanted to plunge forward, pound her with no mercy. It even took a good deal of restraint to hold still. “Don’t be afraid, I got you...Just let go.”

She can only nod in reply. It was going to be alright; she had to remember that. She exhaled a deep breath and tentatively eased under Hawks palm, eyes fluttering shut. She was ready, and his hands firmly settled on her sides. He then leaned back just so he could thrust forward, setting the pace with long, deep pumps.

She ached. Every thrust left her sore, but the ache was subtly there, building with Hawks momentum. The snap of his hips threw her body back and forth, shaking to his rhythm, his heavy pants in her ear. A shudder rushed down her spine, hearing his lust so crisply behind. Her lips parted to breathe, and her moans spilled out. 

“Hnng—Yesss, let me hear you. Fuck, you take my cock so deep,” he growled lowly.

Hawks thrusts were sounding wet as his pounding in her skin quickened unsteadily. He’d admit, this was reckless for a virgin maiden, but he wouldn’t hadn’t planned on stopping now for her sake. Hawks was chasing his own orgasm, and as he mentioned before; this was his turn. 

In that moment, she was thankful her arms were strung up, for it was her only support against his unyielding smacks inside her. But the rhythm changed, as Hawks jerked her hips back into an arched angle. Another cry spilled from her lungs. 

Christ, why did it feel so fucking good?! When Hawks snapped hard, his length struck an intense patch in her inner walls, and a beautifully sweet mixture of pain and pleasure shook in her core. 

Hawks felt her violent twitch, which only excited the fae. 

“You like that, sweet dove? It feels like you fucking do! Let me hear you scream!”

She did in fact, cry out. 

All her senses fell to the pleasure, the euphoria, the sweet pain of each thrash. And he pounds—and he pounds, and he pounds. Until she felt something warm flood her insides, and another writhing, hot pleasure ignited her nerves in a violent crash. 

Then there was only the sound of their heavy breaths. He stayed sheathed inside, all while blood had bloomed across the maiden’s thighs.

***

Just before the evening turned to dusk, Hawks had awoken from the makeshift bed he assembled from the folded blankets. At first, he only buried his cheek into the maiden’s loose hair, and drew his arms tightly around her bareback, just so she fit snug against his own bare chest. She was warm, so soft in his arms as she slept soundly.

Then came a gentle breeze that wisped at his forehead, brushing at his thick pieces of hair. 

Swirling on those winds echoed a voice.

“Little dove.”

This only warranted a deep growl, though Hawks hadn’t made an effort to move from his maiden’s warmth.

“Cut that shit out, I haven’t told her yet,” he mumbled with an edge in his tone. He refused to crack open his eyes, and craving sleep more than anything he dismissed the voice abruptly. 

The room fell silent.

It obeyed him, not the other way around.

“What’s said is said,” —Hawks adjusted his body, gently rubbing his face on her head, “You wish to never be alone, well, wish granted. You’re mine now little dove...Mine, forever.”

There’s no reply from his maiden, whose gentle breathing was doing a lovely job of lulling Hawks deeper into the pull of sleep. She wouldn’t like it, oh he knew she wouldn’t. But she’d learn to. And she’d learn her efforts of finding her missing cat were all in vain. After all, the cat never made it far into the forest. He scared off that pathetic thing, but he watched the maiden wander. 

What’s said is said, and there’s nothing she could do to change it. 

***

@pleasantanathema @present-mel @enjifuckersupreme @redflannel

[katsukis-sad-angel]

Based on a True Story

Summary: there's this boy who makes you super uncomfy and doesnt take a hit, but you're to sweet to tell him to back off. Katsuki Bakugou, the more blunt end of the friendship, is happy to tell him off and free you from that sorry bastard.

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x Fem!Reader

Warnings: possible tw, a lot of swearing and some pretty colorful insults, there are guys that are really fucking creepy, based on the actual events of February 7th, 2021 at around 10:30 pm

A/N: this was very very rushed, I just wanted to write myself some comfort real quick and go to bed last night and I didn't have time to properly edit! I'm really proud of some of the banter lmao, please enjoy and never be afraid to punt a ballsack! I'll add tags later🙄🙄🙄

A message popped up on your screen and your once neutral expression went sour. Slamming the face of your phone onto your pillow, you groaned angrily into your bedspread, catching the attention of a certain ash blonde sitting in your comfy desk chair a few feet away. Katsuki Bakugou, one of your best friends, gave a questioning glance but refused to meet his ember gaze

“What’s your deal?” He asked, not letting his genuine curiosity as to why there was such a pained look on your face, show.

You opened your mouth but paused.

Katsuki already knew about this boy and scolded you every time he saw his name pop up in your notifications, telling you to ‘fucking block him already’ for the umpteenth time. It wasn’t like you had feelings for the guy anymore, you were just too nice and polite to cut him off completely and tell him to go fuck himself.

The ash-blonde had already volunteered to do it for you, but you always said no because you knew he’d just find another way to contact you.

“It’s that piss baby again isn’t it?” 

“Yeah…”

“Wow, did you just agree with one of my insults?”

“Suki, I’m about to take you up on your offer to tell him to go fuck himself.”

He snickered, “Now you’re talking sense. What the hell is that pansy bitching about now?”

You sigh and roll over on your back and Katsuki moves to sit on the edge of your bed.

“I cut him off for a while, I really did! It felt so good to be free of him, but then he got my number again and started bothering me a few days ago. I saw him at school yesterday and told him I wasn’t interested in dating at all and he was like whatever so I honestly thought he could keep it in his pants and we could just be friends but nooo! He calls me a simp for anime guys, I tell him to stop being a hypocrite because he used to simp for me and he was like “I still do. You’re the only one” yeah like I’m stupid enough to actually believe that!”

You paused to catch your breath, but before you could start speaking again Katsuki interjected, “Well, you are stupid…”

You socked him in the bicep and he hunched over laughing. You looked so fucking adorable when you got royally pissed at him.

“Oh go to hell.” You snapped, crossing your arms and continuing, “Anyway, this guy used to simp for my goddamn sister! Not only do I reject being a replacement for her, but if she rejected his sorry ass, that means he’s a huge piece of shit because she’s super picky.”

“I might’ve mentioned that once or twice-”

You punched him again to shut him up. “Plus he’s super creepy and gross and it always feels like he’s undressing me with his eyes and whenever he’s around I want to dive into a pool full of only chlorine and drink it. I’m just trying to coexist and just be nice to him but apparently, a female looking in his general direction means that they want dicked down by his micropenis. He’s so fucking dense too. Why can’t he see that I’m not interested, especially after I EXPLICITLY told him that?!”

By that point, you were on the verge of frustrated tears, bottom lip trembling just slightly with bottled up emotion.

Katsuki could see it.

You felt trapped in something you never signed up for and you’d do anything to get out. All of this frustration had been stored inside of you for so long and it just kept mounting and multiplying until you burst into tears.

“Goddammit, come here dumbass,” He growled, gathering you into a warm embrace, “You can’t keep all this bs inside okay?”

He let you sob into his shoulder, one calloused hand supporting the base of your neck and the other crossed firmly over your back so you’d feel safe and secure; away from the world full of horrible people and into a small one of just your best friend’s warmth and the sweet sweet scent of caramel.

“Why don’t you listen to me? You’re just too fucking nice to every shitty dickhead that sees you as an easy, fuckable target. Something really fucking bad is gonna happen to you if you don’t shape up and learn how to punt a dude’s excuse for a ballsack and tell him what you really think.”

You raised your head from the solace of his shoulder to look at him with big, reproachful doe eyes and whimpered, “I tried that!”

“Have you tried punting their fucking balls first?”

“No… that would hurt.”

“That’s the point.”

“But if I did it without reason I could get suspended or charged with aggravated assault!”

It was Katsuki’s turn to sigh.

“That’s not the point dumbass, the point is that you need to tell these bastards off when they start getting creepy. You know what? Why don’t you just fucking ignore their sorry asses in the first place!”

You sniffle and drag a hand over your cheek to dry your tears, then resume your position with your face in the crook of your best friend’s neck.

“I feel bad for them.”

“Well stop. I’m gonna call him now alright? After that, we’ll block his stupid ass on every fucking app, you hear me?”

You nod and hug him tighter as he leans forward to grab your phone and opens it with your passcode, swiftly finding his name in your contact list and pressing the call icon, then he tapped the speaker button and waited.

The call was picked up almost immediately and a voice on the other line said, “Hey cutie! I was just about to call and ask to see if you wanted to come over on-”

“She’s not here.” Katsuki cut him off with a dry snarl, “And last time I checked she wasn’t interested enough in your sorry ass for you to be calling her ‘cutie.’” 

You could almost hear his lip curl in utter disgust.

“Who the fuck are you?” The voice asked, dropping its sickeningly sweet tone to something more appropriate in light of the previous insult.

“I’m her fucking boyfriend you dickwad-” You popped up from your haven in surprise, mouth open to sputter in protest but he put a finger to your lips and smirked, “who the fuck are you?”

“No fucking way that whore has a boyfriend-”

“Ex-fucking-scuse me? Shut your mouth, you mother fucking pussy, insult her one more time and I’ll fuck you up so bad you won’t be recognizable by the time you get to the hospital.” He snapped back, “She’s crying right now because you’re too dense to realize she doesn’t want any business with some horse-faced piss baby like you. Take the hint right fucking now you useless bastard so you don’t make the mistake of coming near her again because I. Will. Kill. You. Delete this number because she’s too sweet to block you herself, but I will.”

“Fuck man, I was just tryna get laid. She’s the one who started rubbing herself all over me-”

“I said delete this number. Damn, you are a dense piece of shit aren’t you?”

“Hey, I-”

Katsuki pressed ‘end call’ and blocked his contact, moving from Instagram to Snapchat, to any social app you had, and blocked him left and right until he was satisfied.

“Feel better?” He asked softly, tossing your phone aside and peeling you off.

You carded a shaky hand through your hair and wiped your eyes, giving him a watery smile and a nod.

“Why did you tell him that we were in a relationship?” You asked, voice on the edge of a taunt.

“To make him mad.”

“I mean, it worked, but is that the only reason?” You giggled.

“The hell are you insinuating?”

“Do you… possibly by chance… have feelings for me?”

You batted your eyes at him and he retched, but the smirk was still present on his handsome features.

“What’s it to you?”

You squirm a bit, but something pops into your head so you can stall a bit longer.

“I mean, you’re not THAT ugly-”

He responded with a simple, harsh flick to the forehead to make you whine and try to whack him, but he easily intercepted your fist and pushed you on your back, caging you in nothing short of a horizontal kabedon.

It was your turn to smirk, “Yenno ‘Suki, I could very easily… oh what was your phrasing? ‘Punt your fucking balls’ in this position…”

“Just shut up and tell me what the hell you want.” Katsuki snapped.

“You’re cute when you’re flustered.” You prod.

“You look like a pissed hamster when you’re mad.” He shot back.

“You smell like a fucking candy store after training.”

“You’re the dictionary definition of a dumbass.”

“You have a better hourglass figure than Yaomomo.”

“You're quickly becoming an extra.”

“Date me.”

“Fine.”

“Wait really?”

“It’s the only way I can kiss you, protect you, and keep you all to myself.” He shrugged, leaning in dangerously close, “You don’t fucking understand how hard it is to watch you prancing around with one failed abortion after another and watching you cry because they leave since you don’t want the one thing they’re after.”

“You’ve always been there for me ‘Suki… I guess I just took you for granted, and I’m really sorry.” You met his soft vermillion gaze with a meaningful and apologetic one and reached out to squeeze his hand.

“‘S okay. You’re mine now, right?”

You nod, smiling. 

“So it doesn’t matter how dense you are anymore.” He smirked, laying down on your bed and dragging you down with him so you were tucked comfortably under his chin.

You grabbed the remote and flicked on the tv, preparing to turn on an anime you had in mind.

“What romance garbage are you inflicting on me this time?” Your new boyfriend groaned, burying his face in your hair.

“One that’s super sappy and romantic and sad just to piss you off.” You pouted, clicking on each letter to form the desired word in the search bar.

“Have fun with that.” Katsuki snarked, beginning to move away, but you stopped him by deftly pressing your lips to his.

You slowly pulled away, blushing furiously, but happy to feel strong forearms snaking around your front and crossing over your stomach.

“I certainly will.” You respond.

[ji-yaaan]

•𝑯𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒚 𝑩𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒉𝒅𝒂𝒚 𝑳𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒂!•

Leona Kingscholar x Reader Oneshot

Note: HAPPY BIRTHDAY LEONA! YOU HAVE JURISDICTION OVER ME NOW! I made the art and writing in a rush cuz I'm busy with real life soooo- forgive me. BUT HAVE SOMETHING SHORT AND SWEET IN RETURN!(´༎ຶ ۝ ༎ຶ)♡♡♡

With bustling music, drink spilt from golden goblets filled up to it's brim. The drums that beat a rhythmic sound, matching melodies with the tambourines and maracas. Fine silk adorned the ceilings with intricate patterns that decorated the fabrics. Exquisite food and liquor filled the buffet tables full. The song that were being sung were accompanied by people dancing for joy and entertainment.

This was a night to celebrate the birth of the wonderful second prince of Afterglow Savannah, yet the celebrant himself was nowhere to be seen by any of the spectator's gaze. "A toast for my brother Leona to celebrate his birthday!" Leona's brother, Farena said with a thrilled and delighted tone, slightly tipsy and intoxicated from a few drinks downed in a span of an hour.

"Wait? Where's the birthday boy? Leona? Brother? Where are you? Geez... the kid never learns... He ran away again..." Disappointed from the absence of the birthday celebrant, the king just instructed a few servants to search for his beloved brother. The night was still young...

Sighing exhausted from the rowdy and stuffy atmosphere in the banquet room "Finally! I escaped! Mission complete! Nice~" with two plates of chocolate cake you held in your hands, a victorious grin paints your face. No one knows where the cynical second prince is at, but not you... You knew exactly where the arrogant prince stays in refuge of chaos.

Excitedly sprinting in the long hallways, far from the banquet halls that rang from wall to wall with it's rowdiness and noise that resonated within. With each step you take, adrenaline rushed up your body from excitement and delight to see Leona.

In the long series of curtains and doors, there was a simple room at the end of the hallway. It was an old empty guest room. Shabby... but cozy in its own way... The serene atmosphere was calming, free from the loud music and laughter that resounded the crowded banquet tables. A perfect place to catch a break...

You make your way into the room, closing it from behind with your legs since your hands were preoccupied with the plates of snacks. Making your way to the balcony as chiffon curtains flew from the night breeze, a mystical scene unfolds before your eyes.

The dim glow of the moonlight lit the young man moonbathing under. The tranquil silence accompanied with a refreshing breeze as you view the balcony that overlooks the royal gardens beneath. Nothing could beat the sound of water from the fountains with the sound of rustiling leaves from the trees. Unlike the boisterous laughters back the the party, this peaceful air was a million times better...

"Well... I can't blame him for always going here.." Placing the plates on the wooden railings, you crouched down to peek at the sleeping prince under.

"A birthday celebrant escaped his own party... Pfffft... Classic Leona..." Strand of wavy locks framing his face flew from a momentary gush of wind. This scene feels like it came straight out of a movie... But you're not one to complain...

Moving away the hazel locks from his face, gently tucking the strands behind his ears. A hand reaches out for yours catching you off guard for a brief moment.

"Oi herbivore... It's not a good habit to snoop around sleeping people..." Groggy from sleep, he lets out a low husky growl. Classic leona... He may have grown a bit older, but it's good to see he never changes.

"Pffft! Then why is the birthday boy hiding in here away from his party? Hmm~" you teased the prince as you poke his arms for answers.

"Tch... Why are you even in here? If you're going to be noisy, better go back to the party and let me sleep. Or if you are quiet enough, I'll allow you to be my pillow." Teasing you back with his trademark arrogant smile ™.

"Wait I have a reason to be here!" You replied with a pout from the stingy remarks you got.

Leona raises his eyebrows, piquing his interest with what you've got to say. Rummaging through your pockets, you tried to find something inside. AHA! Found it~ putting your hands behind you holding something in between. Just what was that "something" you're holding from behind?

"Close your eyes! I'll count to three and then you open them!" You demanded with your usual bright and cheerful smile.

"What? No. Just show it to me already."

"Awww don't be a party pooper~ Close your eyes first! Please?~"

Who can decline your offer when you look at him with those eyes? Leona got more curious on what your holding with each second that passed. Curiosity and anticipation flooded his mind, sinking and eventually accepting into your demands.

1 . 2 . 3 .

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY LEONA!~" with the biggest grin and cheerful greetings, you hand out his present between your hands.

A plushie? What? Nonetheless a plushie of himself? Leona was confused, shocked and amused. His ears twitched as he stared at you.

Countless people with great statures and names gifter the "Kingscholars" the brightest diamonds, the finest silk, sparkling gold and priceless liquor. But you on the otherhand... A plushie of him? A toy?

He was baffled and amused. With all the gifts he could possibly receive, A toy made him this happy? Who would've thought a man like him with easy acces to riches, would be delighted to receive a toy of himself.

"Pffft- A toy of myself?" He bursts out laughing with an ear to ear smile, you could've sworn you can see tears in his eyes from laughing too much. But seeing this childish side of his wasn't that bad.

"Well if you don't like it, then don't accept it. I guess what I made wasn't enough to satisfy this arrogant prince-" You tried to stand up on your feet, only to be stopped by arms that held unto your waist tightly from behind.

"No... I'll take it... You gave it to me and there's no take backs now." Leona burried his face in the nook of your shoulder. "I guess birthdays weren't that bad huh?"

"Of course it's not! It's your birthday and you're supposed to enjoy it!" You tried to reason.

"Enjoy? Ok then... let's stay like this for a little longer herbivore..." Even if you can't see his face from behind, a gut feeling tells you that you're 100 sure that Leona was smirking.

The short silence was accompanied with the rustling of the leaves and the sound of water that can lull anyone to sleep. The cries of the crickets in the night as the moon watches over the both of you basking beneath.

Time passed with the peaceful serenity that surrounded the both of you. You could've sworn in the series of breaths you both took, a whisper of thank you was said in between...

“Y/n... You won't leave my side right? Let's sleep in my room tonight, I'll allow you to be my pillow...”

"Pffft- you never really change...."

Happy Birthday Leona♡

Note: Yep that's how good it gets! My brain in rotting from art and fiction writing... Send help. BUT I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS ILYSM! (´༎ຶ ۝ ༎ຶ)♡

[madeinxiu]

i understand

hanbin imagine 'cause why not

title is lowercase intended

angst (i love writing and imagining angsts)

listen to 'back to december' by taylor swift to get the desired feels

word count: 2075

It has been a long day for you and all you crave for at the moment is just hours of relaxation on your favorite night spot, the riverside. Every night you would always visit the river, just feeling the night's cold breeze as you listen to the passing vehicles on the road.

Unfortunately for the past weeks, you haven't been visiting the riverside as often because of the increasing pressure at work. But finally here you are, after a long day of exhaustion.

You glance around the place as you always do. Fate must've been playing with you when your sight landed on the back of a man's green hoodie, his posture slightly crouched, and you know that figure really well.

Thoughts ran through your head. You hesitated whether you should call his name and offer to talk. How stupid, you thought. How can you just casually call the name of that man and offer a small talk? That man who once gave you everything including his love. His love that you chose to throw aside.

Memories of that night quickly spread to your mind like wildfire. The way his eyes filled with sadness and tears, him saying nothing at all as you stared at him after you said the words "Hanbin, set me free."

The guy in green hoodie turned around, as if expecting someone to be there, and locked eyes with you. You searched for something, just anything, in his eyes but it showed nothing. Not love, not hate, just nothing.

He made his way towards you with his lazy walk. As soon as he reached your way, no one dared to speak up first. You just looked at each other. But then he decided to break the silence.

"Hey," he greeted with a smile. You couldn't be any more happier because of that smile. It's beautiful.

"Hanbin," you breathed out. It was silently spoken but it carried the weight of just saying his name.

"You know, I was actually here yesterday as well since someone told me you often hang around this place. It's nice," he stated softly like the way he always talks, eyes wandering around the place.

Silence overtook the place once again as your mind was filled with questions. You're confused why he'd visit the place just because someone told him that you often visit it. You're confused as to why you felt this way in front of him when you're the one who pushed him away. You're confused as to why he doesn't seem like he hates you just like you thought he would.

He landed his eyes on you and you can't help but catch the familiar look in his eyes that you so strongly miss. He's still the same Hanbin you hurt a year ago.

"Why- why are you here?" you finally managed to ask.

"Let's get some coffee first. It's getting chilly out here anyway so let's go in a cafe," he said and turned around to go to the direction of a nearby cafe.

"Wait," you called to him but he didn't hear you. You just decided to follow him and go along with everything that's happening.

After ordering and finding a good seat spot, you decided to clear out the confusion and asked him directly.

"Hanbin, what's going on?" He answered right away,

"I wanted to talk to you. Just about anything."

You have convinced yourself that Hanbin hated you since he's the type of person who holds a grudge especially if it includes his feelings. But now here he is in front of you, claiming he wants to talk to you about anything.

Awkwardness surrounded the area. You just don't want to bring up anything from the past especially hurtful memories from your break up so you just sat and thought of things to say. Whereas Hanbin just silently observes your awkward self like he always did back then.

"I just, I'm- I am glad you came all the way to this city to see me," you silently say with your head partially bowed in embarrassment.

Hanbin just responds with a chuckle. Luckily, the orders came, saving you from the awkwardness.

"How's life, I guess?" If he wants to talk to you, you might as well start the conversation and pretend you don't feel uncomfortable.

"Life's good. Still the usual. Work is busier than ever, it's tiring so this atmosphere relaxes me. I kinda miss my family too," he rambles.

"Oh, Hanbyul. How is she?" you really just spout random things to say to not let the silence overtake your table.

"She just started primary school last month and I couldn't be any more prouder." You admired the love Hanbin has for his little sister. You adore Hanbyul so much so hearing this news is also satisfying for you.

With the short length of your talks, you realized one thing. He has his guards up. And you know why. It's because the last time Hanbin saw you is still fresh in his mind and the words you spoke are still loud. He's protecting himself.

FLASHBACK

Hanbin had been feeling uneasy with your relationship for the past weeks. He'd noticed you've been distancing yourself away from him and you never answered his calls and messages. According to your housemate, you've only been inside your room and never went out unless you needed to eat or take a shower.

He respected your decision of wanting space at first. But as time passes, he realizes it gets unhealthy in your relationship.

So there he was, three roses on one hand and a fastfood takeout on the other hand, in front of your room.

With gentle knocks and a soft call of your name, you immediately know it's Hanbin. Your heart ached once again when you heard his voice.

Nonetheless, you should make your decision.

And so you let him in. Hanbin couldn't be any more happier that you let him in.

The first thing that he wanted to do was embrace you tightly but he saw your expression and realized something bad is going to happen.

"Y/N, babe," said Hanbin quietly as he inches forward. The things on his hands were placed on the desk in your room.

"Hanbin, please," you replied, your voice sounding exhausted as if you're tired of everything.

"What do you mean, babe? What's wrong?"

"Let us not pretend like nothing's wrong, Hanbin. You know well what's happening," you answered soullessly. You can't ignore the fact that your heart is slowly breaking as your conversation goes.

"Y/N, just tell me, please," Hanbin pleads and you heard the desperation in his voice.

Silence surrounded the room.

"I barely saw you for the past weeks, please just tell me what's wrong-" you cut him off without even noticing you did.

"That's the point. The moment I needed you the most, you weren't there. The time where your fans called me a 'slut', a 'bitch', a 'stealer'. Hanbin, it hurts. Their words hurt," you said, though silently, the exasperation is still heard.

"We talked about this, Y/N. Please let's just ignore them. We can't let them ruin us," Hanbin pleads and you can see the need in his eyes as he reaches for your hand. You quickly directed your eyes away from his as you feel yours get filled with tears.

"They obviously hate me, Hanbin."

"But I love you."

"Your love will not stop the death threats I receive from some of your fans, okay?! I can stand it if it's just against me but my family is also getting threats!" By now, tears are falling from your eyes and you wiped it quickly away.

Hanbin took few steps backwards in shock.

"You didn't tell me you received death threats," he said silently as he stares at you with sad eyes.

"Hanbin, set me free."

You were being selfish, you're well aware. You're hurting him, you're aware. But you believe this is the only way for Hanbin to live without media and the fans bugging him about having you as his girlfriend.

You also wanted to save yourself from the harsh words the society shouts at you. Instead of talking it out with Hanbin, you decided to end everything and left him alone. It's selfish.

Hanbin's eyes slowly fills with tears and his lips form a thin line. He looked down for a moment and when he raised his head once again, your heart broke for the hundredth time that day.

He has a sad smile on his face, tears he so desperately prevents from falling, and eyes talking to you.

"I understand," said Hanbin and quickly pulled you in for a hug. "Please live the best life you deserve."

You loved him and you still do. The moment he wished you the best life that day is the time you hated yourself for not being strong enough. He didn't deserve a coward person like you.

"Why did you really came to see me, Hanbin?" you said after minutes of long silence. You figured he had something important to say. It has been a year since you broke up and him showing up like this is really suspicious.

"Honestly, I went here to give you something," he said with a soft voice and reached in the pocket of his hoodie.

"I had this when we were still together. I figured I'd give it to you for our second anniversary. But then, you know, it happened." He said while holding a beautiful necklace on his palm. Memories once again filled your mind.

"I've been holding on to this ever since we parted ways. This gave me hope everytime I'd thought about you. She has been a great companion," he said, referring to the necklace as a 'she'.

"But now, I'll give her to you. I realized I've been holding on to this for too long and now I'm ready to finally move on. I'm ready to finally let go of you," he said.

He has been staring down at the necklace while talking and as he lifted his eyes to look at you, you felt the longing between you two.

You said nothing but only looked at his eyes. You still love him.

"Here, please take it," he said, finally breaking the painful eye contact.

"No."

Hanbin looked at you, taken aback.

"Sorry, what?"

You stood up and dragged him out of the cafe. You just let your heart decide this time.

"I'm sorry for everything. I'm ready to lower my pride just to say this, Hanbin. I hate myself for leaving and I hate myself because I still love you," you said while swallowing your pride.

"You can't just say that, Y/N," Hanbin said, his voice sounding stronger.

"I'm sorry but this is how I feel. I'd go back to the night we broke up just to fix things. I regret not having to fight for us. I regret being too selfish at that time-" he cut you off.

"You're still being selfish now!" he said, almost raising his voice.

You felt small under his gaze and his voice.

He continued emotionally, "You told me to set you free and I painfully finally did. Set me free, Y/N."

"But freedom only did nothing but made me miss you more. I only ever realized how important you are when you're not mine anymore." You know you already sound desperate. You couldn't care less. Hanbin is finally in front of you and this is the only chance you have to fix the things you broke including each other's hearts.

"What do you want me to do? I am trying so hard to forget you, Y/N. I am fixing myself," he said, just as desperate as you. You saw how broken he'd become because of you.

You let his words sink in to you. You already broke him and you want to fix him by making him yours again? That's just selfish.

"If we loved again, I swear I would love you right," you sincerely says as you continue,

"But if the chain is on your door and your heart is already closed, I understand. I'll also let you go now," you said, the emotions in your wavering voice is eminent, as tears fill up your eyes.

"I'm sorry, Y/N, but I need to guard myself now. I don't want to get hurt again." And he grabs your hand as he places the necklace on your palm.

"Goodbye."

[excludedmiddle]

Biweekly Contest 82

Might start linking these if anyone's curious.

Holy shit. Let's start with the good news: I got all four within 90 minutes, and this contest was hard enough that only 442 people out of 22k participants even solved 4/4. I also wasn't treating it like a normal practice contest - I did other things instead of coding straight through, and I didn't proofread my work as thoroughly before submitting.

Now for the bad: it took me 80 minutes to complete, and I had at least one failed submission for 2, 3, and 4, for a grand total of around a dozen failed submissions. In a real contest I suspect this would be reduced a fair bit, but it would have to have been at least half a dozen.

1 was cute and fun, and left me blissfully ignorant of the terrors to come.

2. Cmon man. This problem sucks ass. If the bounds were a little better it would be totally fine, but you can run out of passengers at any point. My initial solution was to use a priority queue/heap to find out the time the last passenger boarded the last bus, and once you have that, linear search backward in the original passenger array (once sorted) to find the first gap.

This is already more work than the vast majority of problem 2s, but nope! Your supply of passengers can run out... literally at any time! So you have to put checks everywhere to ensure that your priority queue is nonempty, and then you have to handle it if it empties. Nothing here was actually that hard, in a strict sense, but holy shit was it a pain in the ass.

3 was a nasty problem. I figured out the math tricks quickly (you can convert both arrays to a single array of absolute differences, k1 and k2 can be summed to a single variable k, and you need to subtract from the largest differences first) but it was still a hard problem, even after figuring all that out!

I thought oh, I'll use a priority queue like I did in 2, it's nice that they theme their problems like this. Nope! k can be as large as 10^9, which is strictly O(n) and not O(n log n), TLE. Guess I'll go fuck myself then.

What I ultimately did (which I thought was rather clever) was use a counter to find how many times each difference appeared (one of their largest tests involved using 1000 of the exact same difference lmao) and then converting that to an ordered dictionary. Since I could sort beforehand, I could use insertion order to order the keys as well. Then I created a multi-step system to mass-subtract from k (I've seen similar concepts before). Then instead of depending on k, this depended on n, which was significantly smaller (10^4) and sped up the program significantly.

4 was... honestly pretty simple compared to 3. Maybe that's exaggerating it, I bet a lot of people found this problem pretty impossible. The easy part was mapping the array to the k that a given index needed. The hard part (which I had fortunately seen something vaguely like in the past) was finding a stretch of the array that satisfied everything. I used a stack for this, in a rather clumsy way (I had to introduce a third variable into a tuple after I failed a submission that probably could've been done with only 2). I think this one could've been done a bit better, but after 2 and 3 I was happy to be done.

So, thoughts. In the past, when I've had a really hard time with a contest, I've been disappointed to see that the overall standings look about the same as they always do. Not the case this time! Fewer than 500 people solved all 4 in 90 minutes, which almost never happens.

I'm very happy that (even if it was painful, slow, and involved an embarrassing number of failed submissions) I pulled through and got to 4/4. I'm very confident that I couldn't have done it a few months ago.

[spicycreativity]

A Place Where I Can Breathe - Ch 2

Chapter: 2/7 Additional Notes: See Ch 1 for more information. Read on AO3 under "WizardGlick." Formatting/italics errors are holdovers from AO3 that I was too lazy to fix. Chapter Content Warnings: Brief depiction of light dissociation Excerpt: Roman had already transformed the living room: metallic streamers of purple and black stretched across the corners of the ceiling, and shiny balloons spelling out A-N-X-E-I-T-Y hovered above the TV. "Uh, Princey?" Virgil said, tilting his head at them, but Roman wasn't listening. "Don't tell him," Logan advised, shoving down his own annoyance at the error.

Virgil peeled another poster off the wall and laid it down on his bare mattress. Without the sticky tack pinning it flat, it rolled itself back up into a tube shape. Quietly singing along to the music blasting from his speakers, Virgil adjusted it and rolled a purple rubber band down to its center. Then he put it with the rest of his posters, in an open-topped cardboard box exactly identical to the ones he’d been imagining up as necessary. The weight of his newly blank walls bore down on him hard and he chewed absentmindedly at his thumbnail before catching himself. He clenched his hands into fists instead and worried at his lower lip as he surveyed what was left of his room.

It would have been faster and easier to ask Roman for an assist. He could have had Virgil’s entire room moved (and renovated) in less time than it took him to wave his hands. And he would wave his hands, and give a self-aggrandizing little speech, and hold it over Virgil’s head until he found something else to congratulate himself for.

So, no, despite their fledgling alliance, despite the direct invitation, Virgil wouldn’t be asking Roman for favors anytime soon. And besides (not that he would ever admit it out loud), there was something undeniably grounding, something real, about doing the work with his hands. He just hoped his empty room would take the hint and follow him upstairs.

As he worked, he became aware of eyes on him. It was a slow dawning, an uncomfortable tingle in his spine that morphed into a full-body itch. Spite kept him from turning to look, focused on packing away the meager contents of his closet. He knew that Janus would come, and he was determined to not care. Let him face the consequences of his actions for once in his life.

From the doorway, Janus watched. He watched Virgil reverently fold imaginary band tees he would never have the courage to wear. He watched Virgil ignore him. He watched Virgil prepare to forsake the only family he had ever known.

The uneasy stalemate grew more tense by the second until they were both buckling under the weight of words unsaid.

It was Janus who broke first. Where the embers of Virgil's anger could smolder endlessly in his chest, Janus' temper reared up at the slightest provocation and struck with its fangs, and would not be satisfied until the threat was gone. "Tell me you didn't actually buy that little 'family' act."

Virgil's knuckles went white around the Paramore shirt he'd been folding. If Janus had come to patch things up, he was making a mess of it. "There's nothing to buy. They're not liars upstairs." He didn’t need to add ‘unlike here ;’ it went both unsaid and mutually understood.

Janus narrowed his eyes and doubled down in his attempt to make Virgil catch his meaning. "It's awfully sweet that you want to think that, but let's not forget that your precious Patton is the whole reason you're down here with the rejects in the first place."

"Yeah? Well, he’s also the main reason I’m heading up now.” Virgil resumed folding up his shirt. There was no sense in letting Janus upset him, not when it was Virgil who had the upper hand. He had made his decision.

"Yes, and I’m sure he and Roman weren't just being nice to spare their own feelings.”

Virgil was quiet for a long moment, methodically re-folding the shirt and placing it into the box with the others. "Would it kill you to just be happy for me?" he demanded, turning back to his closet without sparing so much as a glance at Janus. He stared at the few remaining shirts without really seeing them, heart hammering against his ribcage. He had been hoping to slip out quietly and let Janus cool down. Despite last night’s tension, he really hadn't intended to burn any bridges. But since Janus was being so generous with the kerosene…

In the doorway, Janus straightened. He dropped his hands to his sides, staring at Virgil like he'd never seen him before. Something uncomfortably like defeat crawled up his spine. "So you really think this is going to end well for you?" It went against his nature to speak plainly; even now the truth metamorphosed painfully on his tongue, becoming a venom-drenched mockery of itself.

Virgil had never liked the process of drawing the truth out of Janus. It always involved effort on one of their parts, and too often Virgil was the one left untangling the knots when Janus was the one who had tied them. He was just about sick of it. So he left the truth raveled up inside Janus' words and grabbed a shirt at random from his closet. "Yeah. I do."

Janus faltered and went still. Virgil could see it out of the corner of his eye, and the sick sense of satisfaction made him smirk. He really was tired of the eternal chess match that came with talking to Janus and it felt good to score a point for himself.

When Janus felt cornered, he struck. But this ? Virgil hadn't cornered him, he'd boxed him in . There was nothing to strike at. Just blank white walls and the chemical odor of lighter fluid.

For a moment, there was no sound but Virgil's music. Virgil imagined another T-shirt to fold. MCR. Long sleeves. Soft jersey under his hands.

Janus knew perfectly well what Virgil wanted from him. But courage wasn't in his function; neither was vulnerability. He stood still in the doorway. No motion but the rise and fall of his chest, the twitch of his irises as he watched Virgil tape up his box of T-shirts. It should have been an easy choice: his pride for Virgil's friendship. But the scales pitched and swung and refused to balance, and Janus was silent.

"Tell me why you came here," Virgil dared him, searching for yet another reason to not look Janus in the eye. He settled for imagining a Sharpie so he could label his boxes.

Janus was silent.

"I know you wanted something."

Silent.

"Say it."

Silent.

"Then go."

Silent.

Janus turned on his heel and walked away. Resentment bloomed in his chest. Virgil had gone for a weak spot on purpose, had set Janus up to lose one of two things he held dear. Let him leave, then. If it turned out to be a mistake, they would find out soon enough. And if it didn't, well…

At least Janus had his pride.

Virgil scoffed at the sight of Janus slinking away like a cat, head high and shoulders back.

Virgil had never expected to lose Janus, but he supposed it did make sense that things would end this way: not with the cheap words he threw around like a high-roller's banknotes, but with a chill and deadly silence.

"Whatever," Virgil said to no one. He picked up one of his boxes and headed for the stairs.

Janus was nowhere to be found; Virgil figured he was probably sulking in his room with the lights off, plucking at threads that would never hold knots.

That, or planning some sort of revenge. Virgil tried not to shudder. After all, there wasn't really anything Janus could do to him, not when Virgil had this much conviction in his decision. Janus preyed on insecurities, driving wedges of doubts into the cracks that already existed in the foundations of long-held beliefs. And Virgil had allowed himself no doubts. Not today. Not about this.

He was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn't notice Remus on the stairs.

Remus had been making no effort to hide, but, realizing that Virgil was going to pass by without noticing him, sprang forward to block his path. "Boo!"

"Fuck!" Virgil flinched and pulled the box in tighter to his chest. He glared at Remus and took in a few deep breaths, leaning against the bannister while he waited for his head to stop spinning. "What was that for?"

"Take a wild guess, Little Boy Boohoo." Remus slapped the top of the box just hard enough to make the contents shift and rattle, rage boiling in his chest. "Y'know, when you said you got Raptured, I didn't think you'd actually go through with it."

"Remus, come on." Sadness ached in the back of Virgil's throat. He hadn't wanted this. For all that Janus and Remus had teased him about spending time upstairs, he hadn't expected this kind of anger from either of them, was still reeling from their unabashed hostility. They were friends . Well. They used to be.

"Cum on what?" Remus asked, leaning in. "Your face? Your tits?" Fire blazed in his eyes and he made no effort to quell it; he wanted Virgil scared . It served him right for picking Roman.

Virgil seemed to read his mind. "You know I'm not choosing them over you guys, I just-- I can be friends with all of you. I can help. ”

"No," Remus said, meaning every word of it. "You can't."

Virgil squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, forcing down his doubts. "But you guys are the ones making me choose. I-- Look, I'm sure if I told them how much you mean to me--"

"They'd start inviting us up for tea and orgies?" Remus bared his teeth. "Face it, Virgil. They want to change us just like they changed you," he bit the air in front of Virgil's face, "into a toothless little lap dog. And the second you stop playing by their rules, it's back in the dungeon with the rest of us wolves. And you know what wolves get: Dark screens and pens out of ink and knots that won't stay tied."

"Maybe I don't like being a wolf," Virgil said, sticking with the metaphor out of habit. It usually made Remus happy to have his ideas acknowledged. "Maybe I'm changing for my own sake."

Remus sneered at him, aiming to wound. "Patton must give really good head."

"Get out of my way," Virgil said, fury burning cold in his lungs. "I'll be back down soon for the rest of my stuff."

Remus stepped aside, but planted his boot on the railing opposite the wall before Virgil could take so much as a single step. Nothing about Remus could be repressed or contained, not his anger, not his glee, not even his sadness. It escaped now, despite his best efforts to get a leash on it. "I just never thought it would be you."

"What do you mean?" Virgil asked, studying Remus' wistful face. His heart gave a dangerous lurch. "Actually? I don't care. Move."

Remus let his boot drop with a heavy thud, forcing Virgil to step over it. "You're making a mistaaaake," he called after Virgil, pitching his voice up in a shrill sing-song lilt. A parting gift to the traitor.

Virgil winced, but kept walking. If he was making a mistake, at least it was his mistake to make.

At the top of the stairs, he batted at the doorknob until it turned enough to allow him to fall through the door. He kicked it shut behind him and paused to catch his breath.

Then Roman popped up from the couch, sweeping a hand through his hair. "Hey there, 5 Seconds of Bummer."

"Jesus!" Virgil jumped and fell back against the wall, chest aching.

"Careful, don't let Elder Patton hear you say that. What's with the box?" Roman looked Virgil up and down, examining the coal black eyeshadow and the way he cowered against the wall. Whatever he was doing, he seemed unharmed, if a little freaked out. Not that that was unusual.

"I'm moving," Virgil said, only just managing to hold back a sarcastic ' genius .'

"Really?" Roman's smile was so bright it was almost dazzling. "Say no more!" He straightened, puffing out his chest. "Let's see, where should we put you?" He paused, drawing mental pictures. "By Logan, I think. Right across from yours truly.”

Virgil squinted at him, but he realized Roman’s intent a moment too late. "Oh, I don't--"

"Shh." Roman focused on his desired effect, pictured Virgil's room and all its contents moving upstairs. He would have a bright purple door with a black iron door knob. Oh, and a little 'keep out' sign with a skull on it. And a new bedspread with purple patches, to match his hoodie. And of course, he couldn't forget Virgil's actual possessions (whatever they were) right where they were supposed to be. "There!"

Virgil ducked his head and raised his eyebrows, dropping his hands to his sides now that he had no box to hold up. He almost mourned the loss of it, the comforting weight on his chest. "'There'?" he repeated.

Roman beamed at him. "I moved your room for you!" Virgil opened his mouth, Roman assumed to complain about his precious privacy or whatever, so Roman raised a hand to stop him. "Now, now, no need to thank me." He paused, thinking it over, and regretted his choice of words. "No, wait, do."

"Uh, how about I hold off on that until I actually see my room?" Virgil stared expectantly at Roman, who bounced on his toes. "Lead on, Macduff."

"That's not the line and you know it," Roman complained, but he turned to lead Virgil to his room. "It's ' lay on, Macduff,' and--"

"Yeah, yeah," Virgil interrupted, already regretting his teasing. "And then they fight."

"Don't tempt me, " Roman said. Then he winced. "Ah, like, friendly fighting! Between bros! Good, old-fashioned, manly sword fighting between two dudes…" He paused to take a breath, faltering, hoping for a rescue that did not come, "who are friends. Friendly sword dudes." He cleared his throat and repeated, "Friendly sword dudes."

Behind him, Virgil smiled. For all his boasting, Roman really was trying to be more pleasant. Maybe Virgil should try to extend a hand as well. Unfortunately, "Sure," was all he could manage.

He followed Roman across the living room and up another set of stairs until they came upon a long corridor lined on either side with doors. "It's like a hotel," Virgil observed.

"Go in already." Roman nudged Virgil with his hip.

Virgil resisted the urge to smack him, reminding himself that Roman wouldn't know he was just playing. Instead, he shoved his hands in his hoodie pockets and walked down the hallway to his door. "It's purple."

"Oh, good, you're not colorblind."

"Was that a big concern for you?" Virgil didn't wait for a response before pulling the door open and examining his room. Everything seemed fine, from his band posters to his pet spider in its terrarium. Everything aside from the bedspread.

Roman kept glancing between it and Virgil, wiggling in excitement. "Well?"

"Um, yeah." Virgil forced a smile. "It looks nice. Thanks, Princey. I, uh. I like the purple."

"I knew you would!" Roman gave himself a round of applause and pushed past Virgil, throwing himself down on the bed. "Come feel. The purple patches are fleece."

"Okay…" Virgil crossed the room, trying not to look as tense as he felt. He sat down on the edge of the bed, and put his hand down on the fleece, mind frustratingly blank. "Yeah, that's soft."

Roman nodded in satisfaction. "So," he said, "how does it feel?"

"...Soft?" Virgil repeated, flicking his eyes to Roman's face for just a moment.

"Not the comforter." Roman sighed. "Your great escape! You're finally free from Bialysnake and Doom."

Virgil tilted his head. "Not your best work," he said, mostly to avoid answering the question.

"Oh, everyone's a critic." Roman examined his nails. "But come on, doesn't it feel better to know you won't have to deal with those freaks anymore? I can't even imagine how you made it this long, and that's saying a lot for me. Thank goodness you let us rescue you."

Virgil forced back the instinctive wave of anger that Roman would talk about his friends that way. They weren ' t friends anymore. And maybe it would feel good to vent a little. "I'm glad to be gone," Virgil said with conviction, imagining Janus and Remus listening at the door. "It's gonna be really nice not having to deal with all the mind games and, and random tangents and… weird communication problems."

"Go, Virgil!" Roman said, a little surprised at Virgil's candor. "That really must have been Hell for you."

Virgil, as a rule, avoided lying. Even white lies made him feel sick and panicky. But for just one incandescent moment, he lost control of his temper and let the bonfire blaze in his chest and the smoke pour out of his mouth. "Yeah." If he said it out loud, maybe he could make himself believe it. Maybe he could crush the remaining ache of betrayal, the longing for his friends. "It was Hell. I'm not going to miss them at all."

Roman gave a low whistle "I'm glad we got you out of there."

"Lucky me." Virgil rubbed his fingertips along a patch of fleece as guilt, cloying and viscous, lapped at the back of his throat.

It was funny, he thought, reflecting on the look of earnest conviction in Roman's eyes. When Janus said that 3 plus 3 equaled 7, he was getting at something. When Roman said that 3 plus 3 equaled 7, he believed it. That could be a dangerous combination someday. Maybe it was better like this. Now Virgil was in a better position to keep Roman and the others safe from whatever vengeance Janus and Remus might choose to inflict upon them.

"Hey," said Virgil, shaking himself out of his thoughts. "Maybe we should get out of here. Y'know, before you go all--"

"Fright Night?" Roman frowned, bored with the idea. "That's so last episode. Can't you just turn it off?" Almost to himself, he muttered, "A nifty little Roman trick."

"Turn off my anxiety?" Virgil repeated, incredulous.

"No, no, of course not." Roman waved a hand to dismiss the idea. "Just make your room a little less kooky, spooky, and ooky." He snapped his fingers twice.

"No?" said Virgil.

"Let's see." Roman indicated the switch on the wall he had just dreamed up. "Go ahead. Pull the lever, Anxiety!"

Virgil rolled his eyes. "It's not a lever."

"I could make it a lever," Roman said, a touch petulant. "A long one, too, so you can walk into it and jab yourself right in the ribs every time you try to turn the lights on."

"Alright, I get it," Virgil put up his hands placatingly. "I'm sorry I talked bad about your anxiety lightswitch." He got to his feet and flipped the switch, all the while staring expectantly at Roman. "Feel anything?"

"Profoundly unchanged." Roman stood up as well and rocked forward onto his toes. "Ah, well. I guess I wasn't in here long enough to tell the difference. Suppose that's why we leave the nerdy science stuff to the Great Logician."

“Where are the others, anyway?” Virgil asked, longing for an escape from one-on-one conversation. His nerves were already starting to fray.

“I don’t know.” Roman leaned against the wall and fidgeted with one of Virgil’s decorative spiderwebs. “Logan’s probably holed up in his room making a spreadsheet of Thomas’ vitamin deficiencies or something equally as boring.”

“And Patton?”

“I don’t know, man, it’s not like I keep them under surveillance.” Roman rolled his eyes, annoyed with the questioning. "I suppose I should summon them up to say hello." He gave Virgil a sidelong glance.

Virgil shrugged. "I don't really care either way, to be honest. But maybe don't bother them if they're busy "

Roman wasn't listening. "Let's see, probably shouldn't do it in your room… To the hallway!" He bounded out the door leaving Virgil to follow him at a shuffle.

It was fine, Virgil had to keep reminding himself. Roman meant well, and maybe his antics would keep Patton from rolling out the welcome wagon. The thought of special treatment made Virgil's toes curl. Just because he didn't want to be insulted all the time didn't mean he needed to be babie d.

Roman's voice cut through the noise in Virgil's head and he planted his hands on his hips. "You're not listening to me at all, are you?"

Virgil gave a fake smile. "I got caught up in the sound of your voice."

"Hm, well." Roman sniffed, playing the part. "My talents are wasted on buzzkill philistines." He paused. "Buzzkill-istines."

Virgil only made a face, so Roman sighed and brought up his arms to summon Patton and Logan, proclaiming as he did so, "Look who I rescued from the dungeon!"

"Hey," said Virgil, bristling, but the chaos was already underway.

"Yay!" Patton threw his arms out wide. "It's Anxiety!"

"You never say 'yay,' when I come around,” Roman complained.

"Hi, Patton," Virgil said, not wanting to be rude.

Logan chimed in, "Roman, it would be incredibly disruptive if Patton said 'yay' every time you entered a shared space--"

"I didn't ask for a read , you pirated nerd processor. I'm just saying a little appreciation would be nice."

"Anxiety is our guest !"

Patton still had his arms out. Virgil caught his eye. "Was that-- Is that for a hug or…?"

"Only if you want one!" Patton said.

Roman threw his hands up in frustration. "It's like I'm not even here! You never offer me hugs."

"If you are referring to Patton, he hugged you three times yesterday by my count." Logan paused and pushed up his glasses. "Possibly more times than that, if I wasn't present to witness them."

"Aw, Roman, did you want a hug, too? Group hug?"

"I would prefer not to--"

"No, no, that's quite alright."

"Does anybody want a hug? 'Cause my arms are getting tired."

" I don't," Roman said, obviously pouting.

Virgil pressed his fingertips to his forehead, exasperated. Then he stepped away from Roman and let Patton hug him like he obviously wanted to.

It was hard for Virgil to not shudder at the sudden heat and weight on him. With his senses already open and taking in more information than his brain seemed to want to process, touch was an added stressor, more unwanted sensory input.

But it was important to Patton, and his voice was genuine when he said, "Thank you."

"Ugh, enough already!" Roman said, dropping his arms so he could cross them again. "Isn't anyone going to congratulate me for rescuing our dark-and-stormy damsel?"

Virgil seized upon the opportunity to slip out of Patton's arms and step a healthy distance away. "I'm sorry, which part was the rescue? Was it the part where you ambushed me in the living room and took my stuff?"

"Roman, it's not nice to take what doesn't belong to you," Patton said.

"No, Padre. Ugh." Roman groaned and ran a hand through his hair. "I helped him move all his stuff."

"That does explain the new violet variance," Logan said, nodding at Virgil's door.

Roman muttered, "That doesn't make sense; you just wanted an excuse to use alliteration," but it was barely audible under the sound of Patton screeching in delight.

"Uh," said Virgil, wide-eyed. "How long do you think he's gonna go?"

"Three," said Logan, unphased.

"What?"

"Two."

"And one," Roman said.

Patton drew in a deep breath. "Kiddo! You're gonna live with us now?"

"Yep," Virgil said, ducking his head.

"This is so exciting! We have to celebrate!"

"We really don't," Virgil muttered, backing into the wall. The last thing he wanted was--

"A party!" Roman said, driving his fist into his open palm. If he couldn't be the object of adoration, then he could at least be in charge of something.

Virgil sighed, swallowing back a swear. He suddenly longed for the safe familiarity of Janus' gentle taunts and Remus' wild-eyed enthusiasm. He had grown so used to people knowing his limits, to having his needs anticipated and boundaries accounted for.

It crossed his mind to flee, to run back down the stairs into the basement with apologies on his lips. At least his old demons were familiar ones. He knew how to handle it when Remus got too wild or when Janus got sulky and jealous. And the ache, the ache of being so cruel, well, he knew how to ride that out too.

What Virgil did not know how to handle was the rambunctious enthusiasm of three (well, two) optimists who were far too excited about being his friends.

Oh.

Realization and guilt slammed into Virgil's chest, a flying tackle of empathy. All Patton and Roman wanted to do was be his friends, and Virgil had the nerve to be put off by it.

He shook himself and tuned back into the conversation just in time for Roman to address him directly, "And you just have to sit there and look pretty." A beat. "Pretty scary." Patton turned his disapproving gaze on Roman, who was already in the process of trying to extricate his foot from his mouth. "Ah, um, pretty… scarily… pretty . Because it scares us… how pretty you look."

Virgil decided to let that one go as a show of goodwill.  "...Thanks."

"Yep," Roman said, utterly failing to stick the landing. "Anyway, enough talk! We have festivities to attend to!"

He sank out, and Patton after him, until it was just Virgil and Logan in the hall.

"I do not understand him," Logan admitted.

Virgil just shook his head, privately wondering if the same placating behavior that worked on Remus would work on Roman too. "Just go with it, I guess."

Logan nodded. "Before we join the others, I did want to tell you: Please do not hesitate to ask if there's something I can help you with."

"Hesitating is the name of my game," Virgil said, misunderstanding.

Logan adjusted his glasses, hiding his confusion behind his hand. "Perhaps that was a poor choice of words. I only meant that--"

It clicked for Virgil. "I get it, Logan. Thank you."

"You are welcome, Anxiety. I believe your presence here will be of benefit to us all." Logan sank out, studiously avoiding eye contact.

Virgil sank out after him, suddenly terrified at the idea of being alone with his thoughts.

Roman had already transformed the living room: metallic streamers of purple and black stretched across the corners of the ceiling, and shiny balloons spelling out A-N-X-E-I-T-Y hovered above the TV.

"Uh, Princey?" Virgil said, tilting his head at them, but Roman wasn't listening.

"Don't tell him," Logan advised, shoving down his own annoyance at the error.

"Just go with it," Virgil repeated, a reminder for the both of them.

"Took you two long enough!" Roman shouted from the kitchen. "Professor Necktie, get in here and help Patton with the measuring cups."

"I got it!" Patton exclaimed. "A third of a cup and a fourth of a cup are pretty much the same thing, right?"

"Oh," said Logan, already in motion. "No."

"What about me?" Virgil asked.

Roman popped his head through the kitchen doorway, nearly knocking into Logan. "I already told you, Sweet Coraline--"

"Da, da, da," Patton chimed in.

"--just sit there and look--"

"Scary."

"Is it Interrupt Roman Day?" Roman threw his head back and rolled his eyes.

"No," said Logan, before realizing the question was rhetorical.

"Wait," said Virgil, "So I'm just supposed to sit by myself in the living room while you guys…" He tried to remember what Roman had said before, but he really hadn't been listening.

"While I bake and Patton tries to drink vanilla extract," Logan said.

There was a sound suspiciously like a small plastic bottle hitting a formica countertop. "Uh, Roman, why don't you keep Virgil company?" Patton suggested. "You know what they say about too many cooks. Or… bakers, I guess."

"What do they say?"

"I don't remember! You'll have to chef back with me later."

Virgil winced. Roman shot him a commiserating look. "Fine, I guess we can both sit and look pretty. Comes naturally to me anyway."

"Great," Virgil said.

"Well, Simple Plan, do you want anything to drink while I'm up?"

"'Simple Plan'?" Virgil repeated, confused. "That one wasn't even a real nickname, you just named an emo band."

"Look, I can't be on all the time." Roman made a face. "Do you want a drink or not?"

"Could I have a coffee?"

"Coffee?" Roman stared at him. "It's 2:00 pm!"

"Oh, so there's a wrong answer?"

"Alright, alright. How do you take it?"

"With milk."

Roman nodded. "How much?"

"What?"

"How much milk?"

"I don't know, I don't measure it out," Virgil tried to keep the incredulous look off his face but couldn't quite manage it. "Just, y'know, with milk."

" How much milk, Virgil?"

"I don't know!" Virgil put up his hands. "Until it's a nice beige color."

"How beige?"

"What do you mean 'how beige'? Beige is beige!"

"Alright, fine," Roman huffed. "But you're not allowed to complain if it's wrong."

"Deal," Virgil said, nodding.

Roman turned to go back in the kitchen and Virgil threw himself down on the couch with a huff. Roman got wound up about the weirdest things.

Unlike Virgil, who only got wound up about normal things, like if the person at the door was really the pizza delivery person, or if they were secretly an assassin sent to kill Thomas.

Reasonable fears.

Virgil ran his hands down his face and sighed. Despite his earlier desire to be alone, and despite the reassuring sounds of controlled chaos from the kitchen, doubt crept into the corners of his mind.

He bounced his leg and tried not to look at the door to the basement. The living room and kitchen were technically common areas, even if the so-called 'Dark' sides usually kept clear of them.

Janus or Remus could burst in at any second and ruin everything. Roman, at least, seemed to be under the impression that Virgil had hated every waking moment as a Dark Side. If he ever found out that they had been friends...

Virgil forced himself to take several deep breaths. Everything would be fine. Roman, Logan, and Patton were his friends , and they wouldn't judge him for how he had acted before.

...Unless they did .

"Coffee!" Roman said, barreling into the living room with far too much confidence for someone holding a full coffee mug.

"Jeeze!" Virgil jumped and clutched at his chest, his pulse hammering against his hands. "Stop doing that!"

"Stop entering rooms?" Roman said sarcastically. He sat down next to Virgil on the couch and set a coffee mug on a mismatched saucer down on the coffee table. "There."

"Thanks," Virgil said. He thought about teasing Roman for having made it the wrong shade of beige, but decided against it. They were still getting used to each other and Virgil didn't know how far he could push without hurting Roman's feelings. "What about you?"

Roman held out his hand and he was suddenly holding a champagne flute full of sparkling water. "Don't you worry about me."

There was a crash from the kitchen, followed by a blithe "oops!" from Patton and a long sigh from Logan.

"How about them?" Virgil asked. "Can I worry about them ?"

Roman waved a hand and sat back. "I guess worrying is your job."

"Yep," said Virgil, glancing again at the basement door.

They fell silent for a moment, but Roman was never one to leave an awkward silence untouched. "So, what do you usually do for fun? Or was it more of a Cinderella situation?"

"You really think I'd take that kind of treatment lying down?" Virgil asked.

"Okay, so, what? Do you practice your eyeshadow for hours on end? Write angsty poetry?"

Virgil sighed, thinking about all the things he couldn't give away. "I mean, I guess I listen to music?"

"That's a great idea!" Roman said, a little too quickly and loudly. He waved his hand at the TV. "Go… Plug your phone into that, make it do the thing."

Virgil got up and began fumbling with the assorted wires at the back of the TV. "Are you sure? It's not exactly party music."

"Well, it's your party." Roman smiled. "You call the shots. And…" He hesitated, embarrassed. "Well, you know. We appreciate you, scary screamo-emo music and all."

After a fair amount of fiddling with the remote and plugging random cords into random sockets, Virgil finally got his phone hooked up to the TV.

"There!" Roman said happily, flashing his teeth again. " Now it's a party!"

Virgil sat back down on the couch and tried to make a pleasant face back. He had hoped that the music would make him feel more at ease, but all it did was bring back painful memories of bass filtering down into the basement, of complaining with Remus and Janus about their upstairs compatriots' taste in music.

Even now, the bass crawled into him and buzzed painfully against his bones, vibrating in his skull. With his heart already racing from the caffeine, the throb in his chest became almost painful. Virgil stared, wide-eyed, at the floor trying to keep his breathing in check. If he could just focus on what Roman was saying…

What was Roman saying? Virgil watched his lips move, but all he could hear was the thrum of the bass. Was this even real?

It took Roman a long moment to realize that Virgil wasn't listening, his attention turned inwards rather than outwards. Realization came with an unpleasant twist of concern in his stomach. Virgil was staring at the floor, his eyeshadow a sickly gray.

All thoughts of irritation and playful pouting fled Roman's mind in an instant. "Uh, hey. You okay?"

Virgil took too long to respond. "...Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine." He blinked hard, drummed his fingers against his temple. Awareness came back to him, marginally less unpleasant than it had been before. "Do you… do you mind if I turn the music down?" Surely that was no great transgression.

"Sure, be my guest" Roman said, truly ambivalent. He smiled a little and hummed to himself as Virgil fumbled with the remote.

"Hey, kiddos!" Patton stumbled out of the kitchen, Logan's hand firm between his shoulder blades. "Logan says I'm not allowed in the kitchen anymore." He smiled, unbothered, and sandwiched himself between Virgil and Roman on the couch. "Is this okay?" he asked Virgil.

"Yeah," said Virgil, unsure if he meant it. He leaned a little into Patton's side and decided it was okay. More than okay. Where it had overwhelmed him before, the gentle warmth of Patton's proximity now grounded him and calmed him down.

Like…

Like Remus did.

Roman, oblivious to Virgil's inner crisis, tossed his head. "Did you try to eat the dough again?"

"No," Logan called from the kitchen. "He tried to make glitter slime with the egg whites."

Virgil and Roman made twin faces of disgust; Patton only laughed and said, "I was egg-slime-ted to try something new!"

"Oh, no," Roman murmured, drawing one hand down his face.

Virgil raised an eyebrow and said, "Was it at least food grade glitter?"

"No," Logan answered, still out of sight. "It was craft glitter."

" What were you making?" Virgil asked, then realized his mistake. "Uh, before the egg slime."

"Cupcakes," Patton said.

"I already told you that," Roman said.

"Sorry, man." Virgil gave Roman a fake smile. "Sometimes when you start talking, all I can hear is refrigerator noise."

"Funky beets," Patton said, nodding.

Virgil stared at him. "You keep beets in the refrigerator?"

Patton wasn't listening. "Ooh! Brocc-n-roll!"

The conversation dissolved into increasingly dubious vegetable puns, which Virgil avoided contributing to. He was more than content to sit back and watch Roman's and Patton's energies bounce off each other as the conversation grew increasingly absurd.

It was moments like these that made Virgil think, maybe things would be okay after all. Change was scary but Virgil had his friends.

Logan emerged from the kitchen a few minutes later, uncharacteristically ruffled. Flour left chalky marks on his shirt and tie, and glitter clung to his fingers despite all his efforts at the kitchen sink.

"Hi," Virgil said with a lazy wave. "Please stop them."

"What are they doing?" Logan asked. "I stopped listening when they started making puns." He sat down in the chair that sat perpendicular to the couch and looked expectantly at Virgil.

"Still puns," Virgil said. "Endless puns."

"It's fine," Roman said. "We can be done with puns."

"Only if you ask nicely!" Patton said. They all peered at him expectantly. "You said no more puns," he said, confused. "Should I have made one?"

"No need, Patton," Logan said hurriedly.

"Digging the new look, by the way," Virgil said by way of pointing out that Logan was covered in flour.

Logan squinted at him, puzzled, then looked down at himself. "Ah. One of the many hazards of working in a kitchen." He imagined his clothes clean and nodded in satisfaction at the result.

Unable to help himself, Virgil added, "Other hazards include: Setting your stove on fire, setting your self on fire." He paused, thinking. "Ants."

Patton took his cue to counteract Virgil's anxiety. "But if you don't take the risk, then you don't get the reward!"

"Cupcakes!" Roman said with equal enthusiasm.

The oven timer beeped.

Logan frowned. "It hasn't even been two minutes."

"I got impatient," Roman said, and kept going to try to talk his way out of a lecture on hard work. "And besides, don't we all have better things to do than sit around and wait for cupcakes to bake? Such as eating cupcakes?"

"Roman's right," Patton said.

Logan considered this, pushing up his glasses. "I suppose I could use the extra time to get some work done."

"Wow, Teach, you're leaving us just like that?" Virgil said instead of asking Logan to stay.

"Not before cupcakes he's not," Patton said firmly. "Roman?"

"Say no more." Roman made an extravagant hand gesture, and a tray of cooled, perfectly frosted cupcakes appeared on the coffee table.

"I was going to frost them," Logan said. "And I do have to wonder what the point was of having Patton and I bake in the first place."

"Oh, it seemed like a good idea at the time." Roman waved Logan off. "Anyway, Purple Menace, it's your party. You get the first cupcake."

"Thanks." Virgil grabbed one at random before he could start worrying about if there was a right or wrong answer. "So," he said, forcing himself out of his comfort zone, "since it is my party and all… Do you guys think you might want to spend the rest of the day with me? Only if you want to. It's cool if not."

"Of course we will!" Patton said, only just resisting the urge to wrap his arms around Virgil.

"Yeah," Roman said readily, "sure."

They all looked at Logan, who nodded. "If that's what you want."

Virgil looked down to hide his smile.

--

Virgil kept unusual hours at the best of times, plagued by insomnia and racing thoughts.

Tonight was no different. In fact, tonight was worse. After the day ended and the warmth and comfort of his friends faded away, Virgil found himself alone with his thoughts.

Thoughts that kept straying to Remus and Janus. The reality of their anger at him twisted in his stomach and stoked the fires of rage in his own chest until he was burning with it. Some friends th ey were, turning on him the second he tried to improve his own situation. They knew better than anyone just how much he'd disliked tormenting Thomas and antagonizing the others.

Virgil let out an angry huff and punched the volume button on his headphones. He knew better than to try to go to bed when he was this worked up, so he turned to his tried and true method of drowning out his thoughts: turning up his music until he felt it in his jaw.

It didn't work.

Virgil ripped his headphones off and tossed them away from him, careful even in his anger to not do anything that would cause them to break. He stood and crossed his arms over his chest. It was late enough that everyone else was probably asleep. He could go down to the kitchen and eat shredded cheese straight out of the bag without any questioning eyes on him.

He sank out of his room and popped up in the kitchen so focused on his goal that he didn't even notice Patton standing by the sink.

Patton in turn didn't notice Virgil until they both jumped in fright at the sensation of something in their peripherals.

"Oh!" Patton covered his mouth with his hand and took in a deep breath. "You scared me, kiddo!"

Virgil fell against the fridge, taking in a few deep breaths of his own. "Likewise."

Patton looked Virgil over, raising an eyebrow at Virgil's attire. "Late night?"

"Pretty much always. What about you?"

"I couldn't sleep," Patton said, glancing at Virgil to check in with him before continuing, "I was kinda worried about you."

Virgil shuffled over so he could nudge Patton with his hip. "C'mon, worrying is my job."

"I know," Patton said fondly. "I just… I want you to know that we care about you, and… Well, I just keep thinking about what you probably had to put up with living with Deceit and the Duke, and I'm a little concerned they might, y'know, try something."

"Oh," said Virgil, as a shot of panic rang his body like a bell.

"But don't worry!" Patton said. "We'll keep you safe!"

"Oh, dear." Janus flashed into view between them and looked at them both in turn. "Safe from what? "

"Um," said Patton, blushing up to his ears. "Heya, Deceit."

Janus dipped his chin and fixed Patton with an amused smirk that he had never practiced in his bathroom mirror. "Morality." He leaned back against the counter and waved a hand. "Oh, don't let me interrupt you. Please do tell Anxiety what it is you're going to keep him safe from."

"Ah," said Patton, fidgeting. "Um. It was sort of a private conversation."

"You can trust me." Janus touched his fingertips to his chest, expression open. "Have I ever given you a reason not to?"

"I guess not, no."

"So go ahead." Janus stared Patton down, delighting in his discomfort.

Virgil recovered his wits and only just managed to keep himself from snarling like a dog. "Leave him alone."

"Me?" Janus grinned at Virgil, revealing mismatched canines. "I'm harmless."

A sudden memory flashed through Virgil's mind: He and Janus eavesdropping on their upstairs neighbors. "Wait, were you just waiting by the door for me to show up?"

"No," Janus lied, spitting out the word too quickly. He saw no need whatsoever to let Virgil know that Janus had wanted to check on him and make sure the Lights weren't unduly punishing him for the perceived transgression of having once been 'Dark'. In fact, he'd gone into this with no intention of interacting with Patton at all, but he never could resist the opportunity to make a dramatic entrance.

"Dude." Virgil scoffed, smiling incredulously. "That's so lame."

Janus examined the back of one hand, propping up a facade of cool indifference. "More or less lame than listening to the same My Chemical Romance song 58 times in a row?" Janus teased, sweeping his gaze down Virgil's face. "By your estimate?"

Virgil was about to answer when he noticed Patton staring at him in confusion. He caught hold of his anger again and injected it into his words. "Did you actually want something or did you just come around to try to scare me?"

"This was a common area last time I checked," Janus said, pretending to look around.

Virgil would have liked to have pressed him. For all his scheming and planning, Janus had never mastered the art of the contingency plan. If Virgil taunted him, told him to carry on with his business in the kitchen, Janus would stutter out an excuse, turn tail, and flee.

But there was Patton, watching their rapport with interest and concern, and Virgil couldn't risk handing him any more pieces of the puzzle. Even Patton, who saw the best in everyone, seemed to believe that Janus and Remus had held Virgil hostage all those years. What would he say if he knew the truth?

Virgil took Patton by the hand. "Don't let us stop you, then. Come on, Pat." He sank out, hoping Patton would follow him to his room.

Patton took the hint and rose up by Virgil's door. He looked around uneasily at the spider curtains and the white webbing strung across the walls, but no wave of wild-eyed panic struck his mind. "That's funny."

"Haha," Virgil said, instantly regretting his weak attempt at humor. "Sorry. What's funny?"

"I'm not quite as scared as I was last time," Patton said.

Virgil stared at the purple-plated switch Roman had made earlier. "No way. No way that worked. Ugh, he's going to be insufferable if he finds out." Patton smiled vacantly and nodded. Virgil said , "Don't say anything to Roman, but you should be good to spend time in here with me. I-if you want to."

"Do you want to talk about what just happened?" Patton asked, not moving from the doorway. Even in the absence of blind panic, he could still feel phantom legs crawling across his bare skin if he stared at any one piece of spider decor for too long.

"I don't know," Virgil said, sighing heavily. "Are you okay?"

Patton couldn't help but shudder as he tried to tear his eyes away from Virgil's spider tank. He swallowed down his fear. Virgil needed him. He could be brave if it meant helping Virgil feel better. "Oh, don't worry about me." He forced himself not to think and crossed the room so he could sit next to Virgil on the bed. "How do you feel?"

"I don't know," Virgil said, unable to look Patton in the eye. This was his drama to worry about, not anyone else's. He shouldn't-- couldn't burden Patton with this. Lies danced on the tip of his tongue, so bitter he could almost taste them. He wondered if Janus could sense it, if Janus was laughing at him on the basement stairs. "It's over between us," Virgil said.

"Was it…" Patton hesitated. "I mean, were they… It's just that you're so sweet, and Deceit and the Duke are so scary . And… I mean, Deceit never comes into the kitchen. D'you think he was going to--" Patton broke off with a shudder. " Try something?"

Virgil couldn't even bring himself to protest at the idea that Patton didn't find him scary anymore, awash in nostalgia; half-formed memories of coffee on hazy mornings, reluctant cuddle piles on the couch, bickering for the sake of it, all warming and chilling him at the same time. "Maybe," Virgil said. It wasn't technically a lie, he told himself, just a misdirection. And if it kept Patton safe from Janus' mind games then Virgil would tell a thousand lies, never mind what that said about him. "He can be pretty scary when he wants to be.

"And you're okay?" Patton asked, still concerned. "You still seem pretty shaken up." Virgil was pale and his eyeshadow had gone dangerously dark. Patton wanted to wrap him up in a blanket and never let anything bad happen to him again, his chest ached with it.

"I didn't like how Deceit talked to you," Virgil said, and a burst of anger formed out of the fear for one incandescent moment. Janus had been playing a game with Patton, but it wasn't fair when Patton didn't know the rules. Janus would weave threats and insults into his words but never once speak impolitely or out of turn, and push and goad and tease until he found a breaking point. He had pinned Patton's back against the wall in less than a minute and would have kept toying with him just for the game of it had Virgil not stepped in. Virgil had been the victim of this trick before, in much more lighthearted circumstances. Janus would put words in your mouth and then condemn you for them with the holier-than-thou countenance of a tithe-stealing priest. "He's dangerous to talk to. Promise me you'll come get me if he ever catches you alone, okay?"

"Sure, kiddo." Patton didn't fully understand, but if it was important to Virgil, then it was important to him, too. He held up his pinkie. "Pinkie swear."

"Oh," said Virgil, softening. "We don't have to--"

"It's legally binding," Patton said seriously.

Virgil smiled despite himself and hooked pinkies with Patton. "Okay. Pinkie swear."

Patton drew his hand back and smothered a yawn behind it. "Sorry, kiddo, it's just a little be-yawn-d my bedtime. But I'm happy to stay up with you as long as you need!"

Guilt flooded Virgil's mind, choking out rationality and guiding him toward panic. "Oh, jeeze, I'm sorry. I won't keep you up."

“Aw, it’s okay,” Patton said, not missing the way Virgil’s body tensed up and his breathing quickened. “I’ll stay up with you all night if you want me to. We could even make a blanket fort. Just maybe…” He wiggled in place, thinking of spiders again. “Maybe in the living room or the hall.”

"It's okay, Pat." Virgil stifled a yawn of his own, burying his face in the collar of his hoodie. "Think I'm gonna crash soon, anyway." A small, cruel part of him protested at the idea that he would need special treatment and desperately wanted to throw it back in Patton's face. He wasn't a sweetheart, he wasn't a baby. He didn't need to crawl into a blanket fort with Dad just because he was a little stressed.

Okay, so he was a lot stressed, but he still didn't need coddling. He wasn't Roman .

"Should I go, then?" Patton asked, glancing at the door. He had seen Virgil's face go sour and adjusted his approach accordingly. It went against his nature, against his function, to leave someone upset without doing everything he could to fix it, but he was perceptive enough to grasp that Virgil wanted space.

Virgil nodded and yawned again, the ugliness draining from his face as though it had never been there at all. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Good night, Virgil." Patton stood, but hovered in the doorway. "Want me to get your light?"

Virgil kicked off his shoes and nodded. "Sure." Virgil hoped that Roman hadn't shuffled his clothing around too much. He wasn't in the mood to hunt for his pajamas in the dark. "See you in the morning?"

Patton nodded, turned off the light, and left.