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slerixx · 1 month

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iv. first date (wbk series)

synopsis. every moment spent with your significant other opens a new chapter of exploration and connection. featuring. sakura haruka, suo hayato, kaji ren, umemiya hajime x f!reader content. fluff, sfw, slight ooc (all) notes. this took so long, I'm so sorry T T got really busy with school stuff, but please enjoy this new part! word count. 4.8k+

series masterlist | iii. confession | v. first kiss

𓍢ִ໋ sakura haruka

the glowing neon lights of the arcade reflected off the windows, creating a vibrant, almost surreal atmosphere. you stood at the entrance, nervously fidgeting with the strap of your bag as you waited for your boyfriend, sakura.

the steady hum of arcade machines filled the air with a nostalgic kind of excitement, a mix of beeping sounds and the chatter of excited players. it had been ages since you'd been in a place like this, and now here you were, on your first date with sakura, no less.

you spotted him approaching, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket. his expression, as usual, was slightly flustered, his lips drawn into a thin line as if he were trying to downplay the significance of the moment. his hair fell slightly over his eyes, which were darting around, avoiding making direct contact with yours.

“hey,” he muttered, almost too casually. "you're early."

you smiled warmly, trying to put him at ease. "i was excited," you admitted honestly. "i’ve been looking forward to this."

sakura coughed awkwardly and glanced away, his cheeks lightly flushed. "it’s just an arcade," he grumbled, trying to sound indifferent. "don’t make it a big deal."

but the small smile tugging at the corner of his lips betrayed him. you could tell he was as nervous as you were, maybe even more so. you smiled as the thought.

the two of you entered the arcade together, the atmosphere inside instantly swallowing you in its vibrant, buzzing energy. rows of game machines blinked and beeped in an almost hypnotic rhythm, and the excited shouts of players filled the air. the scent of popcorn and cotton candy wafted from a nearby concession stand, mingling with the smell of metal tokens and electronics.

you both wandered around for a bit, taking in the sights, before stopping at a claw machine filled with a variety of plush toys. you nudged sakura playfully. "wanna give it a shot? win me something cute?"

he glanced at the machine, feigning disinterest, but you could see the determination flash in his eyes. "tch, easy," he said, cracking his knuckles for effect. "i’ve got this."

sakura stepped up to the machine, inserting a coin with a flourish, his fingers hovering over the controls. his gaze was sharp, his focus intense as he maneuvered the claw toward a particularly adorable plush cat nestled among the other prizes. you watched, holding your breath, as the claw descended slowly.

for a brief moment, it caught the toy’s head perfectly, lifting it up into the air. but then, just as quickly, it slipped free, tumbling back down into the pile of stuffed animals.

sakura's face turned a shade darker, his eyes narrowing. "huh?! this machine is rigged," he declared, his voice laced with annoyance.

you couldn't help but giggle at his reaction, and he shot you a quick, indignant look before his expression softened slightly. "okay, fine," he muttered, pulling out another coin. "i’ll get it this time."

he tried again, and after a few tense seconds, the claw finally caught hold of the plush cat securely, pulling it toward the chute. when the toy dropped with a satisfying thud, sakura quickly retrieved it, handing it to you with a huff. his gaze remained on the side as he mumbled, "here. it’s yours."

you took the plush cat, your heart fluttering at the gesture. "thank you, sakura," you said, blushing as you smile warmly at him. "it's really cute."

he shrugged, his cheeks slightly pink again. "it's nothing," he replied, trying to brush off the moment. "let’s just keep going."

the two of you wandered deeper into the arcade, trying out different games together. you challenged each other at rhythm games, laughing as you both fumbled to keep up with the rapid beats of the music. sakura, though normally so composed, was clearly struggling with the rhythm and precision of the game, making you laugh so hard that you almost missed half the notes yourself.

next, you found yourselves at a shooting game, where sakura's competitive side truly shone. his sharp reflexes and precise aim helped him rack up points effortlessly. he glanced over at you with a smirk, teasing, "try to keep up."

you playfully stuck your tongue out at him but secretly admired how serious he got during the game. there was something fascinating about seeing this new side of him—the quiet intensity, the focus, all masked behind that usual facade of indifference. by the end of the game, he had clearly beaten you, but not without sneaking a glance at you every now and then to make sure you were still having fun.

after a few more rounds of different games, you both found yourselves at a racing simulator. the large, side-by-side cabinets beckoned you, and you eagerly took your place in the driver's seat, ready to challenge sakura again.

"think you can beat me?" you teased, your hands gripping the steering wheel.

sakura shot you a sideways glance, his lips curling into a faint smirk. "i’ll go easy on you," he said, though the glint in his eyes suggested otherwise.

the race began, and you were instantly absorbed in the game. you focused on the track, your hands moving instinctively as you drifted around corners and dodged obstacles. but sakura was fast—his car speeding past yours with seemingly effortless precision.

determined not to let him win so easily, you pushed your skills to the limit. on the final lap, with the finish line in sight, you managed to slip past him in a well-timed maneuver, crossing the line just moments before he did.

"yes!" you cheered, throwing your hands up in triumph. "i actually won!"

sakura stared at the screen in disbelief, then turned to you with an expression of mock indignation. but before he could say anything, a small, rare laugh escaped him—a sound so genuine and unexpected that it caught you off guard.

"not bad," he admitted, his smile lingering for a moment longer than usual. "guess you’re better at this than i thought."

you grinned back, feeling a warmth spread through your chest at the sight of his genuine smile. "and you're not as tough as you pretend to be," you teased lightly.

sakura quickly averted his gaze, the flush on his cheeks deepening. "whatever," he muttered, trying to regain his composure. "let’s grab some food or something."

as you both left the arcade, the neon lights of the arcade glowed behind you, fading into the background as you walked down the street side by side. the plush cat was tucked securely under your arm, a sweet reminder of the night. despite sakura’s usual standoffish demeanor, the small moments of warmth and laughter between you had made the evening feel like something special.

you glanced at him out of the corner of your eye. sakura walked close beside you, hands once again in his pockets, but there was a quiet contentment in his posture that hadn’t been there before. and though he might never admit it, you knew he had enjoyed himself just as much as you had.

"thanks for tonight," you said softly, feeling the need to express your gratitude. "it was fun."

sakura’s shoulders tensed slightly, and for a moment, you thought he might brush it off. but then he glanced at you, his face softer than you’d ever seen it.

"yeah," he said quietly, the pink in his cheeks returning. "it was."

and as you walked side by side into the evening, you couldn't help but feel that this date had brought you closer to the real sakura—past the tsundere exterior and into something deeper, something more meaningful. this was just the beginning of a connection you both could feel growing, one step at a time.

𓍢ִ໋ suo hayato

the sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden glow over the rolling hills of the park. the gentle breeze carried the scent of freshly cut grass and blooming flowers. as you walked along the path, basket in hand, your heart beat with a mix of excitement and nerves. you glanced at suo, who walked beside you with his usual calm and easy smile, his single visible eye gleaming with quiet amusement.

"are you nervous?" suo asked softly, his tone teasing but gentle as always. his voice was like a soft melody, so relaxed that it instantly put you at ease.

you chuckled, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "maybe a little," you admitted, feeling a slight warmth in your cheeks. "but in a good way."

suo's smile widened just a fraction as he looked at you, his gaze filled with a warmth that made your heart skip a beat. "good," he said lightly. "i was worried i might be the only one."

you raised an eyebrow, playfully narrowing your eyes at him. "you? nervous? i find that hard to believe."

suo laughed quietly, a soft chuckle that seemed to resonate in the air around you. "i have my moments," he said, his tone almost conspiratorial, as if sharing a secret. "but i hide it well, don’t i?"

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. he always had this way of making everything feel light and effortless, as if he carried the whole world on his shoulders but never let it weigh him down.

finally, the two of you found the perfect spot—a small clearing under a large oak tree, with dappled sunlight filtering through the leaves. suo spread out the picnic blanket, smoothing out the edges while you set down the basket. you began to unpack the food with meticulous care, laying out sandwiches, fruit, and some homemade sweets you’d prepared the night before.

"wow," suo said with a hint of admiration in his voice, eyeing the spread before him. "you really outdid yourself. are you trying to impress me?"

you smiled, feeling a little bashful. "maybe," you teased, glancing at him. "is it working?"

suo chuckled again, his eye gleaming with amusement. "i’m already impressed," he said smoothly, reaching for one of the sandwiches and taking a bite out of it. "this is really good."

you both settled down on the blanket, the afternoon sun casting a warm glow around you. the park was quiet, with only the occasional chirping of birds or the distant laughter of children playing nearby. it was a peaceful setting, perfect for a first date that felt intimate and relaxed.

as you nibbled on your food, you found yourself drawn into easy conversation with suo. he had a way of making you feel comfortable, as if every word you said was worth listening to. you talked about everything and nothing—how beautiful the day was, your favorite books and movies, and even a few funny anecdotes from your time in makochi. suo would occasionally offer a witty comment or a gentle tease, making you laugh more than you had expected to.

at one point, suo leaned back against the tree, his gaze drifting to the sky above. the late afternoon sunlight filtered through the branches, casting dappled shadows across his face. you admired the way the light softened his features, his usual calm expression now relaxed and peaceful.

"this is nice," he said quietly, his voice almost a murmur. "i could get used to this."

you smiled, leaning back beside him, feeling the warmth of the sun on your skin. "i’m glad," you said softly. "i wanted today to be something we’d both remember."

suo glanced at you, his expression softening. "you’ve already made it memorable," he said, his voice filled with sincerity. "just by being here."

your heart fluttered at his words, the warmth in his gaze making you feel like the luckiest person in the world. suo wasn’t one to be overly expressive with his emotions, but when he did let his guard down, it was always in a way that made your heart swell.

as the two of you finished eating, you packed away the remains of the picnic, leaving the blanket spread out so you could relax for a while longer. suo lay back on the blanket, his hand reaching for yours as you lay beside him, your head on his chest. his fingers intertwined with yours, the simple gesture bringing a sense of comfort and closeness.

the sky above had begun to shift, the soft hues of blue fading into shades of pink and orange as the sun began to set. the air was cooler now, but the warmth of suo’s hand in yours kept you grounded.

"i can’t believe you made all of this," suo said after a few moments of quiet, his tone filled with admiration. "you didn’t have to go to all that trouble."

you turned your head to look at him, smiling softly. "it wasn’t trouble," you said gently. "i wanted to do something special for you. for us."

suo’s gaze softened even more as he looked at you, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles. "you’re something else," he murmured, his voice full of affection. "always thinking about others."

you blushed slightly, feeling the sincerity in his words. "i just wanted today to be perfect," you said softly.

"it is," suo replied, his voice low but certain. "because i’m here with you."

the simplicity of his words made your heart swell with emotion. there was something so natural, so effortless about being with suo—like everything just fell into place when you were together. you felt safe with him, like you could be yourself without any pretenses.

as the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the park, you found yourself feeling content in a way you hadn’t expected. this moment—just you and suo, lying together under the trees, your hands still entwined—felt like the beginning of something truly special. something that would only grow stronger with time.

suo shifted slightly, pulling the back of your hands closer to his lips to put a light kiss on it. "thank you for today," he whispered, his lips brushing against your skin. "for everything."

you smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you. "anytime," you whispered back, your heart full of love and gratitude for the person beside you.

and as the evening light faded into twilight, you knew that this picnic wasn’t just a first date—it was a moment that would stay with you forever, a reminder of the love and connection you shared with suo.

𓍢ִ໋ kaji ren

the quiet, almost reverent atmosphere of the museum wrapped around you like a soft blanket as you walked alongside kaji.

it was your first official date as a couple, and kaji had chosen a museum—something thoughtful, calming, and intimate. you had always known he wasn’t one for grand gestures or flashy outings, and this felt perfect. the two of you could enjoy each other’s company without the distractions of the outside world.

kaji had been unusually quiet since you arrived, his gaze focused on the various paintings that adorned the walls of the exhibition. though you were used to his reserved nature, you could sense an underlying nervousness in him today. it was subtle—barely noticeable in the way his hands fidgeted slightly in his pockets, or how he seemed to be paying extra attention to the art, almost as if he was trying to distract himself.

you glanced at him, a small smile playing at your lips as you admired his serious expression. "you’re really taking this all in, aren’t you?" you teased lightly.

kaji blinked, momentarily startled out of his concentration. his eyes flicked to you, and a faint blush colored his cheeks. "ah… yeah," he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. "just… trying to appreciate it, i guess."

you couldn’t help but chuckle softly at how adorably flustered he looked. "you don’t have to try so hard, you know," you said gently. "i’m just happy being here with you."

kaji’s blush deepened at your words, and he looked away, clearly embarrassed. "i know," he muttered. "i just… wanted to make this special for you."

your heart warmed at his sincerity. you knew how much he cared, even if he wasn’t the best at expressing it. reaching out, you gently took his hand in yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "it is special," you said softly. "because i’m with you."

kaji’s gaze flicked back to you, and for a moment, his usual guarded expression softened. his grip tightened around your hand, "you always know what to say," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

after that, the two of you continued your tour of the museum, strolling through the various galleries and admiring the art on display. as you paused in front of a large painting—a serene landscape of a distant countryside—kaji stood beside you, his arm brushing against yours. there was a comfortable silence between you, the kind that didn’t need to be filled with words. just being together was enough.

after a few moments, kaji shifted slightly, and you noticed him pulling out his phone from his pocket. you raised an eyebrow, curious as to what he was doing.

"what are you up to?" you asked playfully.

kaji froze for a moment, his expression caught somewhere between embarrassed and sheepish. "nothing," he said quickly, shoving the phone back into his pocket. but the slight redness in his ears betrayed him.

you narrowed your eyes, a grin tugging at the corners of your lips. "were you… taking a picture of me?"

kaji’s blush deepened, and he avoided your gaze. "no," he muttered, clearly flustered.

you couldn’t help but laugh softly at his reaction. "it’s okay, kaji," you teased, leaning a little closer to him. "you don’t have to be embarrassed. i think it’s sweet."

he groaned, clearly uncomfortable with being caught. "i just… you looked nice," he mumbled, finally glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. "didn’t want to forget it."

your heart melted at his words, and you couldn’t help but smile warmly at him. "you’re really something, you know that?"

kaji looked away again, trying to hide his embarrassment, but you could see the small pleased smile tugging at his lips. he was always so tough and stoic on the outside, but moments like this reminded you of the softer, more vulnerable side of him. the side that wasn’t always easy to see, but was all the more precious because of it.

as the two of you continued to walk through the museum, kaji’s nerves seemed to ease a little. he began to point out certain paintings that caught his attention, sharing his thoughts with you in that quiet, straightforward way of his. you could tell he was more relaxed now, more at ease in your presence, and it made your heart swell with affection.

at one point, you found yourselves in front of a particularly striking painting—a vivid portrait of a stormy sea, with crashing waves and dark clouds swirling overhead. kaji stared at it for a long moment, his brow furrowed in thought.

"this one’s… intense," he said quietly.

you nodded in agreement, taking in the painting’s raw energy. "yeah, it really captures that feeling of chaos," you said. "but there’s something beautiful about it too, don’t you think?"

kaji glanced at you, his expression thoughtful. "i guess," he murmured. "even in the middle of all that chaos, there’s still… something there. something that pulls you in."

you smiled softly at his words, finding them unexpectedly poetic. "that’s a good way of putting it," you said gently. "it’s like life, in a way. even when things get messy or overwhelming, there’s always something worth holding onto."

kaji looked at you then, his gaze intense yet tender. for a moment, the two of you stood there, locked in each other’s eyes, and the weight of your words seemed to hang in the air between you.

"you’re really good at seeing the beauty in things," he said quietly, his voice full of admiration. "even when it’s hard to see."

your heart warmed at his words, the sincerity of his tone making you feel deeply appreciated. "maybe it’s because you help me see it," you whispered back, a small, tender smile on your lips.

kaji’s gaze lingered on yours, and though he didn’t say anything more, the connection between you spoke volumes. he reached out, his hand reaching out to pull you closer to him—a simple, grounding gesture that was full of unspoken emotion. you smiled at him in return, feeling the depth of his care and the quiet reassurance of his hand in yours.

as the museum visit came to a close, the two of you made your way outside, the cool evening air wrapping around you. kaji still held your hand, his grip steady and comforting. you felt a sense of peace settle over you as you walked together, side by side. this date had been everything you could have hoped for—thoughtful, meaningful, and filled with small, significant moments that made you feel even closer to him.

"you know," kaji said softly as you walked, his voice carrying a hint of warmth, "i’m really glad we did this. it feels right."

you looked up at him, your heart swelling with affection. "me too," you said with a smile. "i wouldn’t have wanted to spend today with anyone else."

kaji’s lips curved into a small but genuine smile—a rare sight that made your heart flutter. he squeezed your hand gently, his touch full of reassurance, and the two of you continued walking into the evening, the bond between you growing stronger with every step you took together.

𓍢ִ໋ umemiya hajime

the crisp evening air carried a hint of anticipation as you prepared for a special night in your cozy new apartment, nestled near your grandparents' house. the space, although modest, had become a warm sanctuary for you, and tonight, it was set to host a momentous occasion.

this evening was different from the friendly hangouts you and umemiya had shared over the years. this time, it was your first date as a couple, and you wanted everything to be just right. you had spent the afternoon carefully arranging the living room to create the perfect movie date atmosphere.

soft, fluffy pillows were scattered around the floor, creating a comfortable lounging area, while a pile of cozy blankets was draped over the couch to ensure maximum comfort. the coffee table was cleared and transformed into a delightful display of snacks: freshly popped popcorn, a colorful assortment of candies, and a couple of chilled sodas. you had even selected a movie that you thought would be the ideal blend of romance and comedy, aiming to make the evening both enjoyable and memorable.

as you made final adjustments to the setup, you found yourself repeatedly checking the time. the anticipation of the evening was almost palpable. the doorbell rang, and your heart skipped a beat. you took a deep breath to calm your nerves before opening the door, revealing umemiya standing there, dressed casually with his hair down, holding a bouquet of flowers and a bag of snacks.

his warm smile and the glint in his eyes made your heart flutter. “hello, my love,” he greeted, his voice carrying a note of excitement. “i brought a little something for our first date!”

he handed the bouquet to you, and you marveled at the soft petals of the vibrant tulips and roses. “these are beautiful, ume. thank you so much!” you said, feeling a rush of gratitude.

he gave a modest shrug, his smile widening. “i thought they’d add a special touch to our evening. and i wasn’t sure what you had planned, so i brought a few snacks as well.”

you led him inside, and he set the bag of snacks down on the coffee table. the aroma of the freshly popped popcorn filled the room, mingling with the subtle fragrance of the flowers.

“you didn’t have to bring so much, but i appreciate it,” you voiced, arranging the flowers in a vase and placing them in the center of the table. the vibrant colors of the bouquet added a touch of elegance to the cozy setup.

with everything in place, you both settled onto the couch, the atmosphere filled with a mix of excitement and nervousness. as you opened the bag of snacks, umemiya glanced around, taking in the cozy setup with a look of genuine admiration.

“this looks amazing!” he exclaimed, reaching for a handful of popcorn. “you really went all out for our first date.”

“i wanted it to be special,” you replied, smiling at his enthusiasm while opening a bottle of soda. “it’s our first time as a couple, after all. i thought it deserved a little extra effort.”

he chuckled and playfully pinched you on the cheek. you giggled at his affectionate gesture before grabbing the remote and pressing play. as the movie began, the room was soon bathed in the soft glow of the tv screen, accompanied by the gentle sound of laughter from the film.

umemiya was attentive, making comments about the scenes and sharing his thoughts, which made the experience even more enjoyable. his insights and witty remarks kept you entertained and laughing. it was clear how much he cherished these moments with you, as his eyes sparkled with genuine interest.

as the night progressed, you found yourselves leaning closer, the comfort of the shared space drawing you nearer. umemiya’s arm brushed against yours, and a gentle warmth spread through you. this simple touch was a new kind of intimacy, signaling a deeper connection between you.

after a brief hesitation, umemiya decided to drape his arm over your shoulder, pulling you closer to his side. the warmth of his body against yours was comforting, and you felt a soft smile spread across your face while umemiya bit his lip, trying to contain his emotions.

“did you ever think we’d end up here?” umemiya asked softly during a quieter moment in the movie as you rested your head on his shoulder.

you looked up at him, a smile playing on your lips. “honestly, i didn’t know. but i’m really happy we did. it feels right.”

he smiled back, his eyes reflecting a mix of affection and relief. “me too. it’s nice to finally be here, together like this.”

the movie continued, but your focus was equally divided between him and the screen. you found yourself noticing the small details—how his eyes crinkled when he laughed, how comfortable he looked nestled among the pillows with you in his arms, and how his presence filled the room with warmth. the sound of his steady breathing and the occasional rustle of the blankets created a sense of serene intimacy.

after the movie ended, you realized that you had both ended up tangled in each other’s arms. the snacks were nearly finished, and the gentle hum of the city outside provided a soothing backdrop to your relaxed conversation. the lights were dimmed, adding to the ambiance of the evening.

“thanks for making this evening so special,” umemiya said, his voice carrying a note of sincerity. “i’ve really enjoyed it.”

“i’m glad you did,” you replied, feeling a flutter of happiness. “i’ve had a great time too. it’s been perfect.”

as you both tidied up, umemiya offered to help with the cleanup. the shared task felt natural and easy, and his interactions with you showed just how much he valued the time spent together. you worked together efficiently, exchanging playful comments and enjoying each other’s company.

standing by the door as he prepared to leave, umemiya turned to you with a tender smile. “i’m looking forward to more evenings like this with you, my love.”

“me too,” you said, feeling a sense of contentment. “i can’t wait to see you again, ume.”

he pulled you into a gentle hug, his warmth enveloping you in a comforting embrace. “goodnight, my love. i’ll see you soon,” he whispered in your ear, his breath warm against your skin.

you nodded, feeling a twinge of sadness at the thought of him leaving. however, you had made a promise to your grandparents, so reluctantly, you both parted from the hug. umemiya walked backward while waving at you as he left, his smile lingering. you waved back, closing the door once he was out of sight.

you looked around your apartment, now quiet and still, and felt a deep sense of satisfaction. the night had marked a significant step in your relationship with umemiya, and you were excited about the future. you knew that moments like these would be the foundation of something beautiful and enduring, and you couldn’t wait to see where this new path would lead.

as you tidied up the remaining snacks and turned off the lights, you reflected on the evening's special moments. the soft glow of the city lights through the window and the lingering scent of the bouquet filled the room with a sense of tranquility. you felt a profound sense of happiness, knowing that this night had set the stage for many more cherished memories to come.

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sans-enjoyer · 13 days

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Inanimate Insanity Episode 16 Spoilers!!!!

its been like, two days since episode 16, and people are already arguing about Mephone's age. He is a child, and this didnt come out of nowhere guys, he's always BEEN a child:

^post from 2018!! 5 YEARS ago!

^Brian reposting art (amazing art btw<3) where Mephone is described as a CHILD and drawing in a childish way.

^Brian saying that Mephone is so young he doesn't even know how to SPELL.

Now; heres some stuff ive been hearing in argument against him being a child.

"Cobs is infantilizing him." I agree with this to a certain extent, he is acting like Mephone is a child who cant comprehend anything like an abusive parent. but thats where it stops. Children can ALSO be infantlized! But aside from that, Cobs even says; "I forgot how young you are!" Parents don't say that to their adult children, because it makes no sense unless Mephone is a child.

Secondly, why would Brian and Justin be doing the same thing? They say he's young!

"He has an adult voice." Robots don't hit puberty! This means nothing. Unless youre saying that the creators implied hes an adult because hes voiced by an adult, well i'll have to refer you to the images above.

"He hosts an entire show." Arguably not very well, also again, he's a robot, and also, theyre on an island! its not like you need a permit to film on a random island in god knows where. Any child can "host" a show if they have enough determination, general knowledge of how they work, and equipment, and would you know it Mephone has all three! He knows how they work because he watched them in meeple, and he can generate any equipment he needs.

"He's a robot, he doesn't have an age." True..? sort of...? But the thing is, being legally defined as a child is based off your mental capacity. Children arent as mentally/emotionally intelligent as grown adults, because they don't have the life experience nor the capacity to be. Mephone barely has ANY life experience, he grew up in Meeple, and then started the show immediately after leaving. And obviously, in Inanimate Insanity (and all object shows), robots are almost always sentient beings, unlike real life.

"He's much more mature than a child, especially one that couldn't spell." Debatable! First of all, he thinks things like 'going to jail for one day' and 'the calm down corner' are terrible punishments, like children. If you tell a child to go sit on the stairs for 5 minutes and frame it as a punishment, they will take it as serious as anything else. Secondly, he literally decided to make a random species of bat.. things? fight to the death because they ate his four month old ice cream. No mature person would do that... Thirdly, abused children ACT more mature than others because they HAVE to be. Abused children are not ALLOWED to act like children. They have to be mature for themselves because who else is going to be? Who else is going to take care of you when your parent doesn't? But that doesn't mean they arent still a child.

So now we tread into questionable territory. Is it okay to deny the idea that he is a child at all costs, just so you can ship him or sexualize him? There is really no other reason why you would deny that he is a child.

Now obviously; lets not harass anyone who has drawn ship art of him or sexualized him in the past. This stuff was not commonly known, most people thought he was an adult. But if you look deeper, he isn't.

Thanks for coming to my ted talk, if anyone reads this far (￣^￣)ゞI know I usually only post art, but this is an important topic to me as i am very hyperfixated on Mephone4 i swear i can't control it guys!!

Feel free to make any counter points, im open to discussion, but i am also very set on this opinion. Have a good day everyone!!☆

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aurianavaloria · 4 months

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KoH - What Good May Come (Baldwin IV x Reader)

Fandom: Kingdom of Heaven

Pairing: Baldwin IV x Fem!Reader

PoV: Mixed/Split (Tiberias - Fem!Reader - Baldwin)

Length: Long (8k+ words! 😬)

TW: Vague mentions of disfigurement/leprosy

A/N: FINALLY, I've finished the Y/N fic that was voted on so long ago in this poll. Since the results were fairly close, I simply eliminated the least-voted option and went with a combination of the rest. 😁I've tried my best to keep Y/N truly generic, although she is female; in all other ways, though, it was my hope to make her vague enough that readers could envision whomever they liked in whatever universe/version of the story they wished. Backstory and circumstances are also left as vague as possible. As far as personality, I tried to go with what seemed most popular in general, again in an attempt to appeal to the widest audience. I sincerely hope you enjoy, and thank you all for being awesome! 🤗

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“She adores you, you know.”

It was these words from Tiberias that broke the silence between king and vassal – a companionable one… one born from years of acquaintanceship that had seen both parties through their fair share of strife and misunderstandings. A type of camaraderie perhaps only two leaders in their position could comprehend and be satisfied with.

The Count of Tripoli watched as his liege-lord’s attention was drawn from the bright Jerusalem outdoors into which he was all but forbidden to emerge. Watched as eyes as blue as the sky Tiberias knew was above drifted to his own. One was clouded, now – a sign of impending blindness. But Tiberias remembered well when both possessed such a clear and sharp forget-me-not stare, bidding all who beheld their gaze to indeed forget them not…

“I beg your pardon, Raymond,” the king replied, the silver mask he wore slightly muffling carefully-chosen words, smooth as the waters of the Jordan. “My thoughts have wandered, as they often do these days, and I am uncertain as to whom you refer.”

The smallest of laughs escaped Tiberias’s lips as they briefly twisted into a half-smile – a response to His Majesty that perhaps only he could get away with. He swirled what remained of the deep claret wine in his goblet, leveling his gaze at the king over the rim; the Count had known his lord since before he had come of age, and no amount of masks could cover the fact that Baldwin IV of Jerusalem was always aware of more than he pretended.

“Forgive me for my lack of clarity, my lord,” Raymond answered wryly. “I speak of Lady Y/N.”

“Ah, yes.”

Baldwin’s response was accompanied by the slightest nod, silver shimmering with the movement as it caught a sunray. His eyes fell to the chess pieces that functioned not as part of an actual match between them, but merely an occupation for restless hands. Particularly the king’s. Gloved in white, one of those half-numb hands still somehow moved with grace, a slender finger perched atop the head of a knight, resting upon the carved arch of the stallion’s mane.

Tiberias noted the short answer, half-sighed. No doubt His Majesty’s thoughts continued where his lips dared not to go, if the Count knew him as well as he thought he did…

“She speaks of you fondly and often,” Raymond added, sipping of the wine. “I believe she is single-handedly determined to bring your presence back into court by mention of your name and titles alone.”

White fingers released the knight. “The court is far too vicious a place for as good a soul as hers,” Baldwin said at length, sitting back in his chair, another sigh escaping him like the hiss of steam behind his mask as he glanced away. “Lately, I have been thinking of what to do with her. It is increasingly obvious there is no place for her here. Not amongst these vultures.”

“Oh?” Tiberias’s brows arched high. “Isn’t there?”

“No. There is not.”

At that, the Count’s lips pressed together as he leaned forward, setting his goblet on the chess table and folding his hands in his lap. “My lord, surely you aren’t thinking of sending her away. Not from here, where she has found joy despite everything.” He caught his liege’s gaze as it returned to him, adding pointedly, “Where you have found it.”

“My joy is irrelevant,” Baldwin replied flatly. “And as for hers...” he paused, and Raymond could see the king’s throat bob past his bandages. “It will not persist. It is best she seek it elsewhere, before that which she has found here meets its inevitable end.”

The corner of the Count’s mouth twitched. “You, or Jerusalem?”

“I am Jerusalem,” the king answered simply.

Tiberias glanced away, closing his eyes for a moment as silence stretched between them. The Count in him knew that Baldwin was, in a way, correct. Disaster loomed on the horizon – a kind of calamity from which they might not return, and it would most assuredly begin with His Majesty’s death. If the physicians were right and not being overly generous in their assessment, then the king had less than a decade left in his short life. And imbeciles like Guy de Lusignan seemed determined to shorten it further. Yes, she would be safer – and perhaps happier in the long term – elsewhere…

Yet there was something so terribly tragic about it all that Tiberias couldn’t help but feel sympathy grow in his heart for the boy. Yes boy. He hadn’t even had the chance to grow a man’s whiskers on his cheeks before that damned disease had twisted his face almost beyond recognition. And Tiberias had seen it all. Even through the at-times frustrating trials of Baldwin’s kingship, the Count of Tripoli had watched as the golden-haired warrior of sixteen years had wasted away into this silver-faced specter that had become far too wise, far too young…

…but he had also watched those specter’s eyes glow with a long-absent light the moment Y/N had stood before him. For a fleeting instant, he had once again seen the eyes of a younger king, reminiscent of past joys and glorious victories.

Baldwin would extinguish that light in an instant for her sake, romantic fool that he was. Or perhaps it was Raymond himself who was the fool, as he thought of Y/N and how she, too, had been drawn to the king the moment they’d met. How such a precious creature, so rare upon this Earth, had fallen into such a deadly trap… and now it seemed, like a snared rabbit, her only option was to chew off her own limb before the hunter found her.

How to rescue them both from such a fate?

“The girl is in love with you, my lord,” he began after a moment, his voice a growling murmur. “To send her away would break her heart. It would destroy her.” He shook his head, meeting the king’s stare with his own. “As it would you, and you know it.”

“What would you have me do, Tiberias?” Baldwin asked, Raymond’s more familiar moniker finally coming out now that the Count’s words had pierced past the royal façade. “To let her stay will cause her only despair, and that will destroy the both of us as well. And I cannot be that selfish to such a benevolent soul.” Tiberias heard a long exhale behind the mask as the king cast his eyes to the ceiling, as if searching for answers amongst the lofty vaults. “Were it not for this disease I would ask her father for her hand and devote my life to her as her husband before the altar of God. But I am a leper, and I am forbidden that.” The pale gaze that returned to the Count’s was a haunting one now, as if all the ghosts of Purgatory screamed through it for salvation. A mirthless laugh followed, a dark sound born of darker thoughts. “It seems I can do nothing else but waste away before her very eyes. So tell me, my wise vassal – if I cannot protect her from what is to come, what is it that I can do?”

A flicker of a smile crossed Tiberias’s lips. “Love her, my lord. As I know you already do.” He paused, propping his elbows on the table and rubbing his sword-calloused hands together as he thought.

“It’s the whole reason for your self-flagellation, is it not?” he continued after a moment. “This talk of sending Y/N out of Jerusalem – your crown tells you one thing, but your heart tells you another, and for the first time you want to toss the crown by the wayside, and that makes you fear you are an incompetent king. So you pick up the crown again in hopes it will crush the heart, and perhaps the love along with it.”

Another sigh, the lids of the king’s eyes fluttering shut for a moment. “I only wish to do what is right, Tiberias. It is what I have striven for my entire life, and I will not abandon such principles now. If it means my own suffering, so be it. And as for her,” his eyes opened once more, latching to Raymond’s, “tell me what good may come from the love of a leper.”

This time, it was the Count who sighed, sitting back in his chair. “Peace. Mercy. Comfort. Everything you have brought to this kingdom.” He crossed an ankle over his knee, peaking his fingers. “You cannot know that a little cruelty now will not hurt her any less than what will come later. But you do know that loving her can only bring happiness to you both in the present moment – and that is what she lives for. Not the future.” He cocked his head at the king. “There is nothing wicked in what she desires. Nor in what you wish for her. The both of you want nothing more than the other’s well-being. How can that be anything but right?”

Raymond saw Baldwin’s throat bob again, the mask shimmering in the sunlight as he shifted in his seat, first looking down towards the floor, then back to the illuminated arcade.

“How shall I court her, then?” he inquired at length, his voice softer, cynicism at last yielding to tender warmth. “How to show her this affection of mine without forever staining her honor?”

Tiberias’s jaw worked as he thought for a few moments in silence. “If you wish to be discreet, my lord, I believe I may assist in this matter.”

It was then, as Baldwin returned his attention to the Count, that the latter saw a glimpse of boyish mischief sparkling in his liege’s eye. “I would trust no other to the task.”

================

“My lady, a courier flagged me down today and told me to give you this.”

Your lady-in-waiting approached, holding out a small wrapped parcel.

“What is it?” you asked, interest piqued.

The handmaid shook her head. “I have no idea, my lady. The courier didn’t say.”

You felt your brow furrow as you took the parcel in hand. The fabric was fine, but not terribly so – a soft cream color, tied with a simple yellow ribbon.

“Hmm. I wonder who it is from.”

“He didn’t say that, either,” your companion commented.

Curiosity mounting by the second, you decided to succumb to the impulse to open the parcel, tugging at the ribbon. Casting it aside, you pulled back the corners of the fabric to reveal a folded piece of parchment, within which had been tucked something slightly weighty…

Merely tilting the parchment to the side let the object slide free into your waiting palm, and you couldn’t stifle the gasp that escaped you. There, in your hand, lay a lovely brooch, sparkling in the sunlight that streamed in from your window. A small disk of gold, swirling floral patterns weaved across its surface and wound about its edge like vines of roses. At its center was set a sapphire cabochon, polished and glimmering, and from its bottom edge hung a single creamy white pearl, like a teardrop in shape.

“Oh, it’s beautiful!”

The words came from your lady-in-waiting; you were too busy still holding your breath as you took in the details of this exquisite piece. You ran a finger over the filigree and atop the smooth stone in wonder. Who could have possibly gifted you something so beautiful and why?

As if reading your mind, your fellow courtier prompted, “Maybe the parchment says who it’s from.”

Finally remembering to breathe, you nodded, carefully unfolding the small piece of vellum to see a tight, neat script, punctuated with neither signature nor seal:

You will never know how much light you bring into the lives of others. It is my only hope that this small token of my regard brings a measure of light into yours.

This time, it was both you and your handmaiden who gasped in unison, barely stifling squeaks of girlish delight as you exchanged looks with one another.

“You, my lady, have an admirer!”

In awe, you stared at the parchment, reading the words over and over again. But who could have possibly written them?

“So it seems,” you replied at length, running a thumb across the surface of the brooch.

“Well,” your comrade continued, straightening and putting her hands on her hips, “that will give you plenty to talk about at the feast tonight.”

Your brow furrowed. “Feast?”

She nodded with a grin. “Yes, feast! Princess Sibylla arranged it. Perhaps you’ll find your mysterious admirer amongst the guests there, hmm?”

At that, you could only blink for a moment, your thoughts a whirlwind in your mind. Of all the things to find in Jerusalem, you hadn’t quite expected an admirer to be one of them…

“I’m not sure whether to be frightened or excited by the prospects,” you finally replied honestly, a nervous chuckle following your words.

“Oh, lady,” your handmaid admonished, swatting a hand playfully at your shoulder. “It will be quite fun, I’m sure. The princess’s functions are always lighthearted affairs, or so I hear. I imagine there will be dancing and merry music aplenty. Just plan to enjoy yourself, and if something – or someone – intriguing comes along…” she trailed and winked.

You tried to fight the blush that sprang to your cheeks, but to no avail, leading your handmaid to laugh heartily. “Ah, my lady. By your leave, I must see to a few things before evening falls, but I will return to help you get ready.”

You couldn’t help but smile back, giving a nod of assent. “Of course.”

With that, the lady-in-waiting dipped into a polite curtsey and left, closing your chamber door gently behind her and leaving you to your increasingly-anxious thoughts. Your attention returned to the parchment and brooch – both were fine indeed, indicating that, whoever your admirer was, they were certainly someone of status. Yet there was a certain practicality to both; the author’s penmanship was practiced and elegant, but not overstated, and the brooch itself was obviously expensive, but neither was it overly extravagant.

It was also a rather fitting gift, considering you had only just lost your old one on the way to Jerusalem…

And then it hit you.

It can’t be…

Your heart began to beat harder in your chest as it all came to you in a rush. Yes, you’d lost your beloved brooch on the long journey to Jerusalem – one of your last remaining ties to your homeland. A silly thing to get upset about, you told yourself later on, and yet the loss of it affected you even after your arrival at court. Nevertheless, no one up until that point knew besides your lady-in-waiting. And there was only one Jerusalemite native to whom you had confided that little detail.

The king.

Your mouth ran dry as you remembered the instance as clearly as if it had been yesterday. It was only your third day at the palace, and you’d yet to become accustomed to its maze-like halls. Couple that with your fascination with the local architecture, and that led you to places, in hindsight, you probably ought not have tread. Yet no one stopped you, even as the number of palace guests thinned and you emerged upon a quiet, sunlit terrace…

…only to run right into a tall man in white.

It hadn’t taken you long to figure out that you’d plowed headlong into the king himself – quite embarrassing that. In fact, you were so mortified that you were sure you would die of it on the spot, even as you apologized profusely with the deepest curtsey you could manage on weak legs.

To your surprise, however, not even the slightest admonishment came from him. Instead, he chuckled, the sound muffled by the mask he wore. That caused you to look up, still frozen in your curtsey, and that was when you saw the bluest eyes you’d ever seen in your life looking back at you, their squinted corners evidence of a smile behind the almost-angelic visage of silver.

You smiled back nervously, at which point he bid you to rise, assuring you that you had done nothing wrong. An awkward introduction followed, during which you admitted that curiosity had gotten the better of you, and you praised the well-kept grounds and the lovely accommodations you’d been given…

As it so happened, however, he already knew precisely who you were from your name alone – where you were from and why you’d come to Jerusalem. Whether he had gleaned this information from spies or the rumor mill of the court, you weren’t certain, but the more he spoke, the more difficult it became to keep the flabbergasted look off your face. And along with that astonishment came the slightest bit of fear – if he knew this much about you, how much did everyone else know?

Despite your best efforts, though, you must have been unable to keep your face expressionless, as that was when he had invited you to his chambers to speak further in private.

To say you were surprised by such an offer was something of an understatement; it was the last thing you expected to hear after what had just transpired between you, especially from a king to a freshly-acquainted subject. And yet you found yourself quite unable to decline even out of modesty. For one thing, declining the offer of a king seemed most imprudent, and for another…

…well, you were actually rather curious about His Majesty, unwilling to end the encounter just yet.

So you followed him, marveling at him all the while. You knew he was a leper – that was something you’d been informed of before you’d departed for the Holy City – but that didn’t frighten you. You had seen lepers where you were from, and they hadn’t frightened you, either. You also knew the mask was meant to hide the deformities beneath. In fact, it was the presence of that mask that had led you to guess the identity of its owner before it was ever confirmed by his lips – it was a symbol as powerful as a crown. None of that was what had drawn your curiosity; you were motivated neither by morbid fascination nor a sense of pity.

No, it was his astonishingly-welcoming demeanor that had you almost spellbound. The easy willingness to listen and to forgive. The quiet, yet poised decorum. You’d known men and women alike with rank much lesser than his who possessed a cold and domineering manner that was immediately off-putting to almost everyone around them. Yet here was the king of this realm, conversing politely with a lady who had merely lost her way.

Already you had learned volumes about his character, and he’d barely spoken at all.

He had posted guards, you noted, but they kept their eyes straight ahead as you passed them, following King Baldwin into his private quarters. It was a mighty struggle, but you managed to resist the urge to succumb to the eye-wandering that had gotten you into this situation to begin with. Instead, with the same discipline of his guardsmen, you glued your gaze to his back, occupying yourself by mentally tracing the subtle patterns in his coat of white damask silk.

Ultimately, he offered you a seat, and as you accepted with another curtsey, he sat himself a respectable distance away, only the slightest stiffness of his limbs betraying his condition as he settled into the chair opposite you. In fact, you could imagine he occupied his throne in much the same manner as he leaned back, both white-gloved hands curving over the ends of its arms. A servant, unbidden, came forth out of the shadows with a fresh cup of wine, which you took with a polite nod. The man then retreated as quietly as he had arrived, disappearing beyond sheer curtains of pale fabric.

And then, you talked.

It was mostly he who asked the questions, and you answered them as best as you were able; you weren’t brave enough to ask him much of anything, and so you settled for what small bits of information he voluntarily divulged over the course of your conversation. All in all, it was a relatively light discussion. He mostly inquired about your homeland and of your journey – of whether you had experienced any hardships or had witnessed anything of interest on your way to the Holy City, and if you had troubles acclimating to Jerusalem. It was during this exchange that you revealed the caravan’s run-in with thieves… how they had stolen what small bit of jewelry you possessed, sneaking in and out of the tents of the pilgrims and vanishing into the desert night before anyone could catch them.

You only offhandedly mentioned the brooch as the one piece you had any sentimental attachment to. In all honesty, you weren’t even sure if he had been listening at that point, as he had closed his eyes for a long time. You thought perhaps he might even have fallen asleep for a moment; if so, you couldn’t blame him, as you knew his condition was exhausting – you couldn’t imagine dealing with it on top of everything else expected of a king.

It was also quite possible that you were boring the poor man out of his mind with your lengthy and rambling answers, and he was simply too polite to cut you off.

Yet if what your gut was telling you was right, then he had indeed been listening, and far more closely than you could ever have realized…

You hadn’t known, however, at the time. Instead, you’d felt increasingly self-conscious as his eyes opened again, their gaze meeting yours with a piercing stare. Truly, it was as if he was looking through you rather than at you as you turned the conversation to lighter matters – mostly all the wonderful sights you’d seen since arriving in the Holy Land, especially Jerusalem itself. Your observations seemed to please him, and he voiced his gladness that you were, for the most part, enjoying yourself. You’d thanked him for his hospitality, and it wasn’t long after that the discussion ended, king and subject cordially parting ways with nod and curtsey.

Little did you know that one meeting would soon turn into two. Then three. Then more.

Somehow, a few days after your unexpected first encounter, you ran into him again in the garden – though, thankfully, not literally this time. After exchanging a few pleasantries, he once more invited you to further conversation in private, and again you accepted. This time, he inquired if you knew the game of chess, and to your surprise (and secret amusement) he appeared rather pleased when you affirmed that you did. He then promptly challenged you to a match, to which you heartily agreed. Yet even though you were handily beaten, it was an enjoyable game, and you found yourself acquiescing to a future rematch.

It wasn’t long before these games became almost a routine part of your afternoon, save for the days when His Majesty was busy with his council or holding court. And it was during the course of these games that you realized just how lonely he must have been. For the more games you shared, the fewer of them were seen to completion; far more time was spent talking with the board sitting untouched between you than it was actually playing.

He never kept you longer than you desired to stay, and certainly never more than was appropriate for an unmarried lady such as yourself. In fact, he seemed to leave the coming and going mostly to you. Yet you didn’t fail to notice the way his eyes lit up when he saw you, their corners crinkling with a smile you couldn’t otherwise see. It broke your heart that he spent so much of his days, outside his duties, in near-isolation, when he was such a thoughtful, inquisitive, and intelligent soul… such a joy to converse with. And so you’d been sure to praise these qualities amongst your fellow courtiers whenever the chance arose…

It had only just occurred to you in the middle of a recent sleepless night that the reasons behind your persistent compliments might have run a bit deeper than the simple desire to keep his spirit alive in the court he barely saw.

You couldn’t deny the way your heart sped up when your eyes met – those eyes that you couldn’t quite decide were more like the sea or the sky. And it wasn’t just the content of his speech you enjoyed, but the way he delivered it… with a voice that was so easy to listen to for hours on end, so reflective of his serene and introspective nature.

And then there were the times, when he accidentally fumbled the pieces, that your fingers and his gloved ones nearly touched. When you both reached for the fallen pawn only for one of you to swiftly withdraw, each time followed by a soft chuckle. But you couldn’t ignore the sensation that charged the atmosphere, like the feeling that permeated the air just before a storm, and your heartbeat was the warning thunder in your ears…

You shook your head, your thoughts returning to the present as you rubbed your thumb over the brooch’s smooth gem. It was then that the tiniest doubt began to tickle and nag at the back of your mind. What if it wasn’t him at all? What if it was merely a coincidence? Something your heart foolishly yearned for, but that your mind knew well would never happen?

A frown pulled at your lips. Baldwin had proven to be someone to whom you could speak about almost anything without fear of reprisal. Nothing you had confided in him had ever escaped the bounds of his chamber – and there was plenty you had discussed, especially lately. Even if he hadn’t sent this jewel, you could trust him to advise you with wisdom. And despite his relative absence from court, there was no one who knew its members better…

By the time your handmaid returned to help you prepare for the evening, you’d made up your mind.

“I shall wear the blue bliaut tonight. To match this lovely brooch.”

================

Even past the bandages of thin linen and the silken veil covering his ears, Baldwin could still hear the distant strains of music floating through the palace’s long and lonely corridors… the latest in Sibylla’s efforts to keep the place lively even as its king slowly wasted away, out of sight and out of mind.

He could have made a surprise appearance, he supposed. He did that on occasion, whenever he felt particularly energetic, much to his physicians’ chagrin. It was mildly intriguing to see what kind of looks he would receive and from whom– though by this point, those expressions and their bearers had become almost boringly predictable. Fear and awe were ever present, manifesting in the form of slackened jaws and widened eyes and hushed whispers behind hands and veils. Rarer looks of disgust and revulsion were always quickly covered by feigned indifference. Then there were those especially-bold souls who dared to reveal their open contempt in their thinned lips and narrowed eyes.

It was pity, however, that he despised the most.

Dread, loathing, hatred – these were all traits with which any monarch could be clothed whether they wished to or not. Such was the burden of leadership. But pity…

Pity was a mantle that was distinctly his to wear.

Every time he saw it in the faces of those who looked upon him, he was reminded that his crown was secondary to his condition. That they saw the Leper before they saw the King. It was not that he lacked appreciation for those who truly worried for his health and his well-being, but in their eyes he saw reflected back at him what he tried desperately to ignore from the moment his physicians departed in the morning until they returned at night to dress his wounds.

The corner of his mouth twitched beneath his mask, and his quill stilled, poised for a moment in the one hand of his that still had life in it before he reached to return the pen to its stand.

Lady Y/N had never looked at him that way.

Sitting back in his chair, he wondered if she was enjoying herself this night. If Sibylla was hosting her well. He hoped that she was, and that his sister had not overwhelmed the poor girl with her almost shamefully lavish tastes. It was evident that Y/N was quite unused to Jerusalem’s abundance in almost every respect; those first few days after her arrival at court, her wide-eyed wonder had rendered her speechless on more than one occasion, or so he’d heard.

A light hum escaped him at the memory of their first meeting. It seemed as though it was forever ago, and yet, at the same time, it felt as if it were only yesterday.

She had been rather distracted, he recalled… so distracted, in fact, that she hadn’t seen him in the corridors, watching as she’d unwittingly wandered into the realm of the royal apartments. With great accuracy, he’d anticipated the trajectory of her meandering steps, and he purposefully made to intercept her before she breached the threshold of what the guards deemed acceptable, even for a lost lady.

Baldwin wasn’t quite as quick as he used to be, though, in part due to that damned dragging foot of his, and he’d neglected to account for his reduction in speed, resulting in an unfortunate collision on the terrace above the gardens.

Or perhaps, he thought in hindsight, it was fortunate after all…

He’d heard enough from his informants to guess who she was. Tiberias and others amongst his court might have suspected she was an assassin simply playing the part of a lost newcomer, and he had to admit that the thought had crossed his own mind, if briefly; in a world such as theirs, it was difficult to imagine anyone without some kind of ulterior motive. Yet it soon became apparent that she was as innocent as the day was long – if there was anything his disease had given him, it was experience reading tone and body language, and he wasn’t certain the best actress in the world could have feigned her level of self-conscious nervousness.

No, Y/N was simply curious and lost. And from what those same informants had told him, she was in desperate need of someone local she could trust. Though evidently satisfied with her new home in every other way, she had been slow to acclimate to the social environment of the court, preferring to keep to herself whenever possible. From this, he suspected her need to get away from the appraising gazes of total strangers was what had initially propelled her away from the great hall, and her natural inquisitiveness had continued to pull her into the quieter depths of the palace.

But the faint smile she’d worn and the sparkle in her eyes had been replaced with fear the instant she realized who she’d run into, and the stuttering apology and low curtsey she’d given him betrayed her anticipation of reprimand.

That was something he’d had to correct, and quickly.

In the moments that followed, he’d gauged it most appropriate for them to smooth over this encounter by getting to know each other better, and thus he’d invited her to do just that in the privacy of his quarters, where they would face little chance of interruption.

As he’d hoped, she’d accepted. And it was this first conversation of theirs that had led him to believe that Lady Y/N was terribly lonely.

Her chatter was slightly nervous and yet, at the same time, somewhat eager. There was little doubt that he’d learned far more about her than she had about him; with but a little coaxing, he had discovered much about her circumstances and about what plagued her. It had displeased him greatly to hear about the thieves that had raided her entourage’s tents on the way to the Holy City, and it irked him even more that she’d lost a treasured possession because of it. Her journey had already been a long and arduous one – had that not been enough?

Y/N put up a rather convincing façade of indifference on the matter, but when he focused on her voice alone, he heard her pain. No, she was no actress, he concluded.

He also hadn’t failed to notice her willingness to make eye contact with him… to look him full in the face and speak freely with every question he asked; she dodged neither query nor gaze. Outside her initial fright on the balcony, she displayed few other signs of trepidation regarding his presence. In fact, it seemed as though she’d just been waiting for someone with whom she could share her thoughts and feelings – as if she’d bottled up everything he’d asked about since arriving in Jerusalem and finally found someone willing to listen.

Had she truly felt so comfortable with him already, or was she simply a trusting soul? He was unaccustomed to both, and it was… refreshing.

His instincts warned him that the jackals of the court would surely eat her alive, and he feared what their viciousness might do to her. What kind of slander and gossip would come from what had been innocent curiosity on her part. How much her character would be maligned for sport. The very thought of it being a possibility made his blood boil.

Over the course of their subsequent conversations, however, he was forced to rethink that initial assumption. Kind-hearted she was, and still too good for the likes of her peers, but she could hold her own among them better than he had anticipated; a few casual inquiries over a few chess matches revealed that much. She saw, heard, and understood far more than her outward appearance would suggest. Behind that warm, gentle, and charmingly-inquisitive exterior was a clever and tenacious woman whom he found to be utterly captivating. No matter the storm around her, she always projected an air of geniality and good cheer, evidently determined not to let this unsettled world tear her down.

In short, the court didn’t deserve her.

He didn’t deserve her.

She never asked him for anything, and likewise she didn’t press questions upon him about his condition. Whenever they passed time together, he felt like neither king nor leper, but like an ordinary man. In her sparkling eyes and healing presence, he saw not pity, but life. A normal life for once. One where he did not have to dread what the next morning might bring.

Alas, that glorious feeling of contentment left him with her every departure.

The sound of exuberant cheers down the corridor pulled him from his musings, and he found himself back in the relative darkness of his chambers, watching the candle’s flame flicker upon his desk. He wondered which dance it was they’d just finished, imagining Y/N in his mind’s eye moving as hypnotically as that very flame. If she danced as beautifully as he envisioned, she would have the whole court entranced…

“Sire, you have a request for an audience.”

The guard called from the entrance to his quarters.

“Who is it?” he asked, hope, dread, and fear all churning in his stomach in a toxic maelstrom. He hadn’t the patience or the energy to deal with most petitioners this night, other than-

“Lady Y/N.”

His eyes widened.

That was quick.

Hope surged forth at the mention of her name, but neither dread nor fear was eliminated by this revelation. Not completely. He had a feeling the gifting of the brooch he’d commissioned would bring her to him sooner or later, but he hadn’t anticipated it being that very day, and especially not with the festivities Sibylla had planned…

Perhaps it is not that, he reminded himself solemnly, but something else altogether.

“I will see her,” he called back at last. “Let her pass.”

There were precious few seconds for him to compose himself before he saw her, at first a shadow at the entrance to his chambers, and then illuminated by lamp and candlelight as she cautiously strode forth. His breath caught in his lungs at the sight of her, her eyes glittering like stars from all those dancing fires. She wore the most beautiful court dress he’d ever seen her in – a sapphire-blue silk bliaut, laced tight at the sides to flatter her form, seemingly a thousand shimmering pleats flowing from her hips to the floor. At her waist had been tied a fabric belt of lighter blue, embroidered in gold, double-wrapped about her body and knotted in front in Frankish style. Her belled sleeves, with their golden trim, allowed only a glimpse of her stark white chemise beneath, and there, upon that same trim that adorned the dress’s wide neckline, had been pinned the brooch, pulling the dipping V above her heart into an elegant keyhole.

“Your Majesty,” she greeted him with a curtsey, offering a smile that shot straight to his heart. “I hope I haven’t come at an inopportune time.”

“Not at all,” he gestured for her to rise, turning in his seat to fully face her, “although I would have expected you to be at my sister’s gathering.”

Another smile. “I was, in fact. Alas, I felt the need to speak with you on a matter of great import. I hope Her Highness can forgive me for my early departure.”

The king nodded once. “I am all but certain she will. I am, however, glad you were at least able to make an appearance,” he remarked as he slowly rose from his chair, stifling a groan that threatened to escape him from his aching limbs. Then, pausing, he tilted his head as he allowed himself to take in her attire once more. “You look lovely. It would have been a shame to have wasted such beauty on my poor eyes alone; better indeed that you allowed others with keener sight the chance to appreciate your taste and talents before slipping away to these dark and distant halls.”

Even in the low candlelight, he could see her cheeks flush, and as her gaze briefly flicked away from his, he felt his twisted lips pull into an unseen smile.

“You are too kind, my lord,” she replied. “In truth, I found myself… inspired… by this new jewel I received just this afternoon.” Her fingers drifted to that very piece, pinned above her heart, and Baldwin forced himself to school his gaze… to pretend he hadn’t been the one to write up the specifics of its creation for the royal jeweler… that he hadn’t entrusted it to Tiberias to give to a capable courier… that he hadn’t prayed to God he hadn’t made an irreversible mistake by daring to tread on this unknown path.

“Do you like it?” she asked suddenly, her eyes meeting his. “Believe it or not, it is, in fact, the subject of my concern.”

Something in both her gaze and her tone told him she’d made the assumption he wished. Good. He had no desire to drag this out; indeed, hadn’t the time for it. And now that she was here, following the lead he’d purposefully fashioned, his only task was to find out if Tiberias was truly right about her and her feelings…

Swallowing back where his heart had gathered in his throat, he replied coolly, “Yes, it suits you. Although, I am uncertain as to why you would approach me for such an opinion,” he added with a chuckle, slightly bemused at the way she was choosing to approach this mystery. Indicating the chess table where they’d held so many conversations of late, he beckoned, “Come. Sit.”

Wordlessly, she acquiesced, dipping her head before moving to take her usual place, as he did his.

“I…” she began after a moment, her stare focused on one of the pieces as he settled himself opposite her. “Well, the truth is, I was hoping I could ask you for advice in a matter related to it. Regarding the one who sent it to me, in fact.”

“Yes?” he prompted as he watched her. Time to confirm that assumption.

“Well, you see… I don’t really know who sent it…”

His eyes met hers, squinting a little. “You don’t?” he asked, keeping the skepticism from his tone as he began to pull her thoughts from her.

“No.” She shook her head. “There was no name on the note that accompanied it, so I cannot know for certain who might have sent it. But,” yet another smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, her eyes sparkling again as she leaned forth and propped her elbows on the edge of the table, “I do have an idea, and I was hoping perhaps I might pass my thoughts by you. You know a great many in your court, after all. Perhaps you could confirm or deny my suspicions?”

Oh yes, she knew. He knew she knew. And now she played with him as much as he with her, both seeking confession…

“Perhaps I could,” he answered musingly. “What are your thoughts, then, Lady Y/N?”

“Well,” she began, dropping her gaze to the pieces once more, her fingertips toying with the white king, “I was just thinking of how appropriate such a gift was. Indeed, the person who sent it must know me rather well. It appeals so much to my tastes and is so fitting given recent events.”

His heart felt like it was about to beat itself out of his chest. “How fortuitous.”

“My thoughts precisely,” she agreed, glancing up at him. “And of those whom I’ve spent the most time with, there are few who would know me in such a manner.”

“Truly?”

“Truly.”

She paused, and he felt her eyes studying him intensely. “In fact, there is only one man who would have known just how fortuitous it was. Only one who would have known I would have need of such a piece. Now,” she leaned back a little, offering him a pointed look, “I do realize that brooches are popular as courting gifts,” she paused, her gaze latching to his, “but even so, I find the choice rather… convenient. Don’t you, my lord?”

“Yes,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “I understand your meaning.”

Deafening silence stretched between them during which neither of them moved.

“Only one man,” she repeated, her own voice having gone quiet, and Baldwin saw her eyes glimmer in the lamplight. Before he could even open his mouth to offer another comment, she leaned forward again, her gaze burning a hole through him. “Only one man who bothered to know me. To know my heart. To care for me and my life enough to remember what I held dear.” He saw her swallow heavily. “You, my king. You sent it to me, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” he breathed, nodding once in affirmation.

“Do you mean it?”

Her question was barely a whisper, yet Baldwin felt it in his heart – a probing inquiry seeking out the truth of his intentions.

His blood was rushing in his ears. “Every word, written and unwritten.”

And with that final admission everything was confirmed on his part. But as for hers…

The tears were obvious in her eyes now, pooling at the edges of her lashes. In that moment, he was sure he understood how the condemned felt just before the stroke of the headsman’s axe, before the tightening of the hangman’s noose. What would her answer be, then? He knew in his heart it would be better for her to simply walk away. But would she? Would she willingly doom herself to heartbreak?

At last Y/N spoke once more, her voice a tremulous whisper, and he hung upon every word as though his very life depended on it.

“I know this cannot be a courtship in the traditional sense,” she began softly, her liquid stare never leaving his, “and I know what the others will say…”

He began to feel lightheaded. At this rate, he was going to faint before he could hear her answer in full.

“…but I don’t care. For as long as there is life left in both of us, my king, I am yours. In whatever capacity you desire.”

“Oh.”

The word left him on a whoosh of breath, hissing behind his mask as relief washed over him in a powerful wave, every muscle in his body relaxing at once. Yet he couldn’t help the warped smile that overtook his countenance behind that façade of silver at the implications of her words.

She…?

“Yes,” she said with a nod, as if hearing the question his thoughts posed. A soft laugh followed, even as a shimmering tear slowly tracked down her cheek. “I love you, Baldwin. With all my heart. And I have since the day we met.”

At that, then, there was no longer any question of her feelings. He felt his own eyes welling with emotion, and he leaned towards her as close as he dared, propping his good hand on the table for support. “I regret that I will never be able to show you the extent of my own for you, my dear Lady Y/N. But understand this…” he paused, swallowing heavily. “My purest devotion has and always will belong to you. As much as a wretch such as I can be, I, too, am yours.”

She shook her head. “You are no wretch. Not to me.”

It was then her hand slowly moved towards where his gloved one yet lay on the table’s polished surface, and he flinched, a spike of fear darting through him like the bolt from a crossbow. “Y/N, no…”

Her gaze bored into his, her hand yet poised above his own. “I’m not afraid, my lord.”

“Y/N… please…”

The word was barely a whisper, slipping between the slightly-parted lips of his mask before he could catch it – a cry for her to stop and yet a plea for her not to. It was as if he had been paralyzed, unable to move away despite every corner of his mind screaming at him to withdraw.

If the glove was not enough… if it couldn’t safeguard her…

And yet all thoughts of everything came to a halt the moment her fingers lightly grazed his own, his breath catching in his throat. He felt it – the warmth of her through the thin silk – and it took all of his strength not to flinch away from her again, to curl his hand into a fist and recoil in upon himself to protect her from his horrid disease. Her eyes searched his, seemingly sifting through his soul as further she went. Slowly. Steadily. Her fingertips brushed with a feather-light touch over each set of knuckles, back and forth, and he couldn’t breathe. His lungs were desperate for air as she traced the delicate golden embroidery on the back of his hand; they finally betrayed him then, a shuddering exhale followed by a hitched intake of air he was certain she heard.

Yet Y/N only smiled at him once more, in that warm and gentle way of hers, her hand stilling as it rested atop his. And the entire world stilled along with it, his fear slowly ebbing as reason returned to replace it. These touches were all they had, he realized. All they could permit themselves. And yet still they could hold all the tenderness of a kiss.

Speaking of which…

He moved much more gently, then, as he twisted his hand underneath hers to catch her fingers in his grip. His gaze holding hers, he stroked his thumb across her knuckles before bringing that hand to his mask, where the cold and unfeeling lips touched the back of it in place of his own disfigured ones.

Despite not being able to give her a proper kiss, though, she evidently still understood the gesture, as another blush flushed her cheeks. A soft chuckle escaped him, and he remarked dryly, “There appears to be a bit of an obstacle here…”

At that, uncontrollable laughter burst from her, merry and full, and she clamped her other hand over her mouth to muffle it, leaning against the back of the chair as she continued to shake. He, too, laughed softly at her merriment, and for a moment the sound filled the room with a kind of joy it hadn’t witnessed in years.

After a moment, Y/N finally recovered, and she glanced over her shoulder as the faint strains of another song could be heard. Her gaze glittering with stars, both hands grasped his now and gently tugged as she stood. “Come. Dance with me.”

He blinked even as he slowly rose before her. “I… fear I’m not capable of much these days…”

“Not to worry,” she assured him with a grin, “I’ve just the dance in mind. Like this…”

With that, she pulled him to the open floor at the center of his chambers and began to show him the steps – two sidesteps here, two sidesteps there, a slow twirl of the lady in his arms, and begin again. For the first few cycles, she counted quietly until he caught the rhythm, and then there was only a warm, comfortable silence between them, the two gently swaying and turning to the distant music.

Tiberias was right. In that moment, Baldwin knew only happiness. Peace. Comfort. And so long as Y/N, too, felt these things, he could be content with whatever God had willed for him. He could only pray that, upon his death, the Almighty would be merciful to this woman, a living angel on Earth…

================================================

If you made it this far, thank you so much for reading! If you want more of my writing, I also have a WIP Baldwin-centric longfic posted on Ao3 (shameless plug)! 😁Do let me know if you want me to continue this Y/N story! I'd love to hear your thoughts.

Also, the dance mentioned at the end of the story was inspired by this lovely one:

youtube

#kingdom of heaven #kingdom of heaven 2005 #kingdom of heaven fandom #king baldwin iv #baldwin iv #tiberias #raymond iii of tripoli #koh fandom #baldwin iv of jerusalem #the leper king #fanfiction #reader insert #baldwin iv x reader #fem reader #my fanfiction #Youtube

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slaybestieslay946 · 7 months

Note

Luke Castellan and Persephone!Child (I know she doesn’t canonically have Demi-god kids but I feel like it fits well) with a story similar to Eurydice and Orpheus’s sad tale.

thank you so much for your request, it acc ties in really well to a fic idea ive had for a while, so i was so excited to see this in my inbox!!

Circle

MASTERLIST

word count: 1800

pairing: luke castellan x persephone!reader

warnings: death, minor depictions of violence, angst

a/n: partly inspired by the request, partly by mitski's song 'circle' honestly i think it made this extra gut-wrenching. hope you all enjoy!

'Nobody knows my lover, is buried underground.'

When Luke Castellan received his quest, everyone knew who he would pick to take with him.

Immediately, he turned to you, flashing you a bright grin, and beckoning you towards him. You laughed, wading through the crowd to your lover, smiling brightly all the way.

The rest of camp half blood rolled their eyes fondly at the pair of you, and just how disgustingly in love you were.

It had been like this ever since you arrived at camp half blood, mere months after Luke himself.

You’d been escorted to the Hermes cabin by one of the older campers, and sat down on a bunk bed. You had looked around the place, lost, confused, and homesick.

And then a boy stepped up to you, asking how you were, what your name was. And gods, even at the age of 14, you knew he was the most beautiful person you’d ever seen. Luke thought the same about you.

He was so drawn to you, he couldn’t stay away.

Now, even 4 years later, nothing had changed.

He was openly enraptured by you, just as Hades was with your mother. He was never seen without you by his side, so of course he’d pick you to bring on his first quest.

A few days later, you set off, Luke’s half-brother, Chris Rodriguez in tow. Everything started off well, you’d managed to locate someone to tell you where the Garden of Hesperides was, in order to retrieve the golden apple that you had been sent for.

On the way there, you hardly encountered any monsters. You lived comfortably, even if you slept in motels every night, and dined on gas station food.

It all went downhill when you finally reached the garden.

You and Chris stood guard whilst Luke stepped towards the tree, no sword in his hand. You kept your spear gripped tightly in your hand, should he awake the dragon sleeping at his feet.

He eventually reached the foot of the tree, taking a deep breath before reaching up into the branches, and trying to snag one of the apples. Meanwhile, you didn’t take your eyes off the dragon, watching it for any sign of movement.

And when it finally opened its dark eye, looking up at Luke, you ran forward, sprinting towards it with your spear outstretched to stab it.

But you weren’t fast enough, and it turned, slashing a talon across your chest, and sending you collapsing onto the ground, blood soaking into your shirt.

Luke darted towards you and in his rush, he wasn’t able to avoid the sharp tail of the dragon whipping across his face, leaving a fine cut all the way down it.

He ignored the biting pain, barely able to register it when all he could see was you, lying on the floor, a pool of blood encircling you.

“Hey, Y/N.” He whispered, patting your cheek gently, cradling your body to his chest, “You’re gonna be alright, yeah? Just open your eyes for me baby.”

You struggled to do as he asked, looking up at your lover with confused eyes.

“You-” You coughed, “You have to go. It’s over for me. Gonna go see mom.”

“No, no. Gotta stay with me. We can get through this.” He cried, brushing his thumbs across your face.

“I- I- I love y-you. W-we’ll s-see each other ag-gain.” You did your best to smile, and while all you wanted to do was reach up and hold his face, you found you didn’t have the strength to do so.

He continued to cry and beg you to come back, but it was all for nothing, you’d gone silent, and your eyes were all still.

And then vines began to wrap around your body, pulling you into the earth, down towards Persephone, your mother.

Luke kept crying as they took you away from him, leaving nothing but your camp necklace behind.

“Hey, man, we gotta go.” He heard Chris call, and he whipped his head around to berate him, until he saw his half-brother was currently in combat with the dragon that had killed you.

He was right, they had to go.

He scooped your camp necklace off of the ground, and ran towards his brother, who detached from his fight with the dragon to run away from the garden. Luke followed after him, tears streaming down his face the whole way.

When Luke got back to camp, he was different. Numb.

Annabeth ran up to him when they descended the hill, a bright smile on her face at her older brother's return. It faded slightly when she saw you weren’t right beside him.

“Where’s Y/N?” She asked, looking around as if you’d pop out from nowhere.

“Gone.” Was all Luke could manage to say, pulling his little sister in for a hug he so desperately needed, confirmation that at least she was still here.

For the next few months, he barely left the Hermes cabin, only ever going down to the amphitheatre in the early hours of the morning, where he could be seen slashing recklessly at wooden dummies left right and centre.

He didn’t know how to live without you. He always thought you’d be with him forever. He had this vision that together you would grow old, and would die while sitting on some front porch, holding hands as you went at the same moment.

Now he realised that it was a pipedream. You were demigods, it was never going to work out like that.

But he couldn’t go on living like this. He didn’t want to wake up in the morning if you weren’t beside him. So he formed his plan, to go down to the underworld and retrieve you himself.

His father was the god of travellers, and your mother was the queen of the underworld. It could work.

So he travelled to the entrance to the underworld, your camp necklace in his hands, and prayed. First to your mother, asking for an audience, and second to his father, asking for use of his access to the underworld. It was the first time he had ever asked Hermes for anything, and if this worked, it would probably be the last. He’d never want for anything again if it meant you were with him again.

And it did work. The gate opened to him, a long staircase down into the darkness. Luke descended quickly; he didn’t want to keep Persephone, or you for that matter, waiting.

He soon found himself pushing through crowds of lost souls, keeping a look out for you, but you were nowhere in sight. He then turned his attention back to reaching Persephone’s throne, breathing a sigh of relief as he finally found himself at the foot of it, looking up at the goddess herself.

“You requested an audience with me, Mr Castellan. I hope this is not about my daughter.” Persephone said sternly, looking down at the demigod, her fears confirmed when she saw the string of beads clutched in his hands.

“It is, but-”

“There’s no buts. I can’t do anything about your predicament. It is not within my jurisdiction.” She declared, her voice growing regretful, “My daughter is in Elysium, and that’s where she must stay.”

“My lady, I understand that this is difficult for you. But we both know Y/N… died before her time. She would want to come back. She deserves to have a life.”

“And you would give that to her?”

“Yes.”

“And you would protect her, better than I can?”

Luke gulped, “Just as well.”

The goddess sighed, and muttered, almost to herself, “We have had this problem before, persuasive mortals and their tales of love. Let’s see if you can fare any better, Luke Castellan.”

“I will release my only daughter from the underworld, on one condition. As you lead her back into the world of the living, you mustn’t look back at her. She will be following you, trust me on that, demigod.”

“And if I do? Look back?”

“Then you will never see her again. Not in your world, nor mine,” She looked down at him once again, a sad look in her eyes, “Now go, exit through the fields of asphodel, she will follow you from there.”

Luke nodded firmly, and turned back around, returning the way he came, smiling more brightly than he had in months.

He was going to see his Y/N again, all he had to do was not look back at her, how difficult could that be?

He pushed his way back through the fields of asphodel, keeping a tight hold of her camp beads. As soon as they reached the surface, he would string them around her neck again. He’d be able to hold her face in his palms, to kiss her, to hug her. Everything would be alright again.

As he returned to the staircase, he felt a rush of wind behind him. It had to be her. Then, to confirm his suspicions, he heard soft footsteps on the stone staircase. Luke smiled to himself once again, wishing so desperately that he could greet her, but not wanting to break Persephone’s rules.

He continued up the staircase for what felt like hours, it was definitely taking him a lot longer this time. The thing that kept him going was your footsteps behind him, a reminder that you were still there, following after him.

Until they stopped, right as he became able to see the light coming from the living world above him.

He paused for a moment, listening out for you. But he couldn’t hear anything besides his panting breaths and the odd screech of a harpy.

Luke began to grow worried, a pit forming in his stomach, but he kept climbing the stairs. Persephone told him you’d be following, she wouldn’t lie, would she?

Or maybe it was all some elaborate joke. Fortune hadn’t been on his side recently.

Maybe he should check. Just a peek, it couldn’t hurt, could it? What was so wrong about him looking back anyway, why shouldn’t he want to see his lover, the girl he would do anything for?

So he did. He turned, to look over his shoulder.

And of course, you were right behind him, just like your mother said you would.

At first you looked joyful to see him, and then your face fell in horror as you realised what he had done. You reached out to touch him, to hold on, but you couldn’t quite reach. And then you felt yourself being pulled back, away from him.

Luke watched on in horror as you fell back into the abyss.

#luke castellan x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #fanfic #pjo #luke castellan #x reader #angst #mitski #mitski circle #mitski lyrics

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nartothelar · 1 year

Note

But for the vampire au, have you considered Emmet getting Severely Hurt™️ and Ingo turning him to keep his brother alive?

Or do they have an agreement to just let things happen?

“No.” Emmet responds simply, decisively.

The answer is expected and yet, the disappointment Ingo feels is an unwelcome heaviness, his constant frown turning genuine without it meaning to.

Ingo had asked the very same question thrice times now.

Once was when they were kids. It was casual inquiry that came with little prompting; he had asked out of curiosity more than anything. Ingo had asked Emmet after they had defeated a trio of challengers off hand. Emmet had laughed, light and airy, when he answered. They had gotten ice cream using their winnings after.

The second time had been following a much more harrowing experience. A safety check forgotten, a simple mistake by a depot agent newly hired, had resulted in a derailed train. Fortunately only a few were injured. Unfortunately, one of those few was Emmet.

Ingo had asked him with bags under his eyes, something quite silly since Ingo didn’t even need to sleep. (Was that makeup? Emmet had joked with an exhausted smile.)

Emmet, laying in that hospital bed, IV's in his arm and a cask around his left leg, had responded much the same, a chuckle rather than a laugh. Perhaps his headache had come back to manage much more than that. Ingo didn’t attempt to change his mind and offered him the chicken noodle soup Elesa had brought for him.

And the third time was right now: Ingo sitting across from Emmet in the dining room of their shared apartment. It was morning and even though the windows curtains were drawn, the room was illuminated with a soft glow. In front of his brother was a plate of eggs and toast, him nursing a cup of black coffee. In front of Ingo was just a cup of tea, untouched and cooling.

“But why don’t you want to be a vampire?”

The way he asks shows his cards far to easily. Whoever had said Subway Boss Ingo was hard to read must have not tried at all.

His brother looks at him, assessing him, and then looks away.

Emmet is silent for a minute, simply gazing at the cup in front of him. His food was getting cold.

Most would think Emmet was being hesitant when answering, that this was a sign he didn’t want to answer at all. But Ingo knows him well. He knows he wants to go over what he will day and that he voices his thoughts properly.

Ingo is patient and waits. Finally, Emmet answers.

“I like the sun.” His brother says, looking at him. The color of his eyes haven’t dulled all these years. “It feels warm on my skin. It feels good.”

“I love eating. The taste, the action. Yup!" Emmet picks at his plate with a hum. "I want to eat what I like, when I like."

“I like my independence." Ingo's tea leaves an ashy taste as he sips it - a floral chamomile bag floats at the bottom of it. "I do not want to be dependent on others. I do not want to be dependent on things out of my control."

"I know that I will have to sometimes." Emmet really looks at him now. "And that is ok. But I still feel the same way.”

Ingo squeezes his mug, before he relaxes his grip. Emmet notices.

Emmet lays his palm on his chest, closing it into a fist near the middle.

“I like being human.” It sounds final, the words like a gavel to wood, the way it echoes in his mind. “I do not want to be a vampire.”

Ingo wants to argue. To convince him that the pros outweigh the insignificant cons, but he does not. No. Usually Ingo is more eloquent with his words, but the fear that rises up in his throat makes his usually well thought out words more brisk, more succinct, more honest as he says the obvious.

“But you are aging.” Ingo says. You are dying, Ingo tries, fails, and a refrains to add.

Ingo hands are smooth, his face without a wrinkle. He looks as the same as he as when he first became a subway boss. He has since he was sent to Hisui. Forever youthful. And Emmet.

Emmet's hands are calloused, wrinkled from years of maintenance at gear station. His hair is thinning and his temples were turning white. His stride not as brisk as it was years ago.

“I am.” Emmet replies. “And I will continue to age.”

Ingo knows Emmet. He is stubborn, just like himself. That is how he is. He knows he will not change his mind. And that makes him clench his jaw, look down at his cup with furrowed brow.

“Ingo.”

Ingo snaps his head up, fear turning to anger that makes him feel sick. He should not be angry, but he is.

“Then you plan to reach your final stop?” Emmet’s smile dims. Ingo continues anyway. “Leave this station?” Without me? Ingo clamps down before he utters the accusation.

“You....you will have me wait here for you to die? And do nothing?!”

And there it is. Ingo barring his greatest fear since he got turned. The thing that has plaguing his mind since he stood at the grave of his old clan leader in Hisui, at the cemetery where his other wardens were laid to rest. What he had realized as he saw time passes by, years of constant goodbyes and tearful farewells.

It was that, no matter how grand his ideals, the simple truth of the matter was that he was utterly powerless to the passage of time.

Ingo doesn't realize that he has stood up until he is already towering over Emmet's seated form. His fangs barred and he suspects his eyes are slits.

And despite that, Emmet looks calm. He looks...sad.

“I didn’t ask for this.” Ingo says softly, deflated as the anger leaves his body. To live on as those around him pass. To see enjoy his life without the people he cares most around him.

Ingo feels arms wrap around him and he wraps trembling arms around Emmet too, his head laying on his shoulder. They stay like that for a moment, simply holding each other, not letting go.

"I'm sorry I never gave you the choice." Emmet finally says. Ingo's hands grip at Emmet's shirt. "We were young. You were dying. And I was desperate. I did not want to lose you..."

Emmet pulls back after that, not all the way, but enough to look into Ingo's face. His fangs have retracted, his eyes normal again. "But those details do not matter now, do they?" Emmet sighs out, that sad smile still there.

"They matter. Of course they matter." Ingo protests, but he doesn't elaborate pass that.

Emmet looks at the floor, thinking about his words and looks at Ingo again before saying, "Everything reaches its final terminal."

"Not me." Ingo says. It comes out bitter.

"Everything does." Emmet repeats, shaking his head. He squeezes Ingo's forearm before he lets go. "I did not give you a choice. but you can choose for yourself now."

His brother’s crows feet, a result from decades worth of smiles, crinkle at the edges as he looks at him. "Just as I choose for myself."

Ingo dwells on those words, on what his brother is offering. A choice and a decision to make. Emmet looks at him and Ingo understands.

With a sigh (a concession, a compromise), Ingo nods and accepts Emmet's answer.

That heaviness Ingo feels is not fully gone from his mind, but it has lightened, the tension of the room dispersing like the morning fog.

Emmet notices, smiles, and sits back down to finish his breakfast. Ingo follows. And then the silence is filled anew with his brother's latest retelling of yet another dealing he had with a rude passenger yesterday.

Ingo listens and they both laugh and talk and all is right and as it should be that morning, in their shared moment of time.

Him and his brother were a two car train, always have been, no matter their differences. And no matter what, he was going to be there with him until his brother's final destination.

And then after that, once that engine has long gone cold, Ingo would decide when his last stop was too.

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atlabeth · 11 months

Text

between colleagues pt 2 - anthony lockwood

part one

summary: the morning after and some shopping. this is still a great plan. right?

a/n: lol this took forever to come out but ive been busy asf and dealing with a lot of personal issues but i am really loving these two and they made me feel better so i hope you all enjoy!! they really are just two idiots in love lmao the shop scene was v fun

wc: 4.1k

warning(s): fem!reader, small mention of death in regards to a case, reader freaking tf out for a second. but basically no warnings this is all fluff

also im aware i use this gif a lot but it's like my favorite one of him so uhhhh yeah

Your shoulder was stiff when you woke up, and you had to stifle a groan of discomfort as you rolled onto your back. So much for staying off your injured side, you thought disdainfully. Typical of you to sabotage yourself in your sleep.

A glance over at the other empty bed proved Lucy was awake, and a glance at the clock on the wall proved she might have been awake for quite some time.

It was six in the bloody evening. Lockwood’s call with the Caldecotts must have gone well if you were able to sleep for 14 hours. You normally would have had the sense to be a little bit ashamed of sleeping an entire day away, but after the job you’d had and the arrangement you made with Lockwood, you felt like you deserved it.

You pulled yourself out of bed and went through the paces of making yourself presentable at the very least, then threw on a sweatshirt and made your way downstairs. Lockwood was alone in the kitchen, sitting at the table with a half-eaten piece of toast in front of him and the agency’s case binder in his lap.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” Lockwood said, glancing up from the files on his lap with a smile. You rolled your eyes at him as you walked into the kitchen.

“Would you believe me if I said I was still tired?” You took a cup from the cabinet and filled it at the tap, taking a sip as you glanced out the window. Night had already fallen, and you could see the flickering of ghost lamps in the distance.

“You know, I think I would,” he said. “You didn’t make it the full 24 hours you promised—I think you’ve still got some in you.”

You chuckled and shook your head. “Where’s Lucy and George?”

“Grocery shopping,” he said, and he looked at the clock. “It’s taking them an awful long while, though.”

“Why are they shopping at night?” you asked.

Lockwood shrugged. “George really wanted to make pad thai, but we have none of the ingredients. Apparently, it’s important enough to warrant a night trip to the store. Lucy offered to go with him, and I made them take their rapiers, so it should be fine.”

“Of course you did,” you mused. “Did you tell them about our little arrangement?”

His eyes filled with amusement. “No. I figured you would want the honor.”

You sighed and let your head fall back. “Kind as always, Lockwood.”

“You should probably start calling me Anthony,” he said. “Just to get used to it.”

“What,” you said dryly, looking back down at him, “girlfriends don’t usually call their boyfriends by their last name?”

“I think your family may frown upon it.” Lockwood checked his watch, then set the binder on the table and stood up. “If you get a kettle going, I’ll make us tea.”

“Bored of write-ups already?” you asked, crouching down to pull the kettle out of a cabinet. Lockwood chuckled as he took the tin of tea bags out of the closet, and he turned the burner on just as you finished filling the pot up.

“I try to do my part, but they’re really not my forte,” he said. “You and George are much better at them.”

“And it comes from filing reports since the tender age of eight,” you said solemnly as you set the kettle on the stovetop.

Just then, the sound of a lock clicking open drew your attention, and you smiled as Lucy and George came inside. George had a reusable bag in one hand and her rapier in another, and Lucy also had hers drawn.

Your brows knit together. “Run into any ghosts?”

“Good morning to you too,” George said. You gave him a mocking look in return.

“No,” Lucy answered, pushing the door shut with her foot, “just being careful. Because somebody swore he saw a Spectre and refused to let a Visitor run away with his goods.”

“I am starving,” George enunciated. “I wasn’t going to let a ghost ruin all my hard work.”

Lockwood smiled. “Well, I’m glad you’re both intact.”

“I’m glad you’re finally up,” George said with a look at you. “I thought you’d never come out.”

“She slept like a brick,” Lucy said. “I knocked over all the bottles in the shower and she never even stirred.”

You shrugged. “Last night was exhausting. For many reasons.”

The kettle went off and you turned the burner back down. Lockwood took two more mugs out of the cabinet and set tea bags in them, then poured the boiling water into all four. You handed him the sugar container with a pointed look.

“Remember, half—”

“Half a teaspoon,” he nodded, taking it from you with a wry smile. “I remember.”

“Good,” you said. “You’re always a little heavy handed.”

“Are you saying I add extra sweetness into your life?” Lockwood asked, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“How did you know?”

“You know, we’re also here,” Lucy spoke up, though when you turned to her she was barely hiding a smile.

“As if I could ever forget you, Lucy Carlyle,” you said. “How’s your day been?”

“Quiet without you,” she said. “Lockwood’s been on the phone all day, and even though George didn’t sleep quite as long as you, he still woke up at two in the afternoon.”

“Oh, please,” George said over his shoulder, in the midst of rifling through his groceries, “I earned it. We all did, after the night we had.”

“True,” she said, tilting her head. “I actually didn’t have any nightmares for once— I’ve never slept so soundly.”

“See?” You gestured at her. “The charms I put on the walls are working.”

Lucy gave you a look. “You can’t seriously believe that.”

“No ghosts have gotten into our room!” you exclaimed. “And both of our nightmares have been getting better. That dragon is protecting us.”

Lockwood bit back a smile. “I still cannot believe you bought that.”

“Seriously,” George said, still organizing ingredients. “A week’s wages, just gone.”

You frowned. “My iron dragon is incredible, thank you very much. Besides, I’m supporting local businesses.” You glanced at Lockwood. “So the supply calls were made?”

“Every last one of them,” he confirmed as he stirred sugar into your tea. “Satchell’s was very happy to get our business again. Salt bombs will be in on Friday, flares come next week, and we’re getting brand new chains tomorrow. Plus a couple new silver glass containers from Sunrise.”

“That’s smart,” you said. “I think I threw our last square container in the furnaces last week.”

George frowned. “We went into the disaster that was last night without any silver glass?”

Lockwood cleared his throat as he handed you your mug, then set the other two on the table for Lucy and George. “Everything worked out in the end.”

Lucy just sighed. “We cut things too close for comfort.”

“The Lockwood & Co motto,” you said before taking a sip of tea. Perfectly sweetened. “How about the Caldecotts?”

“Rescheduled for tomorrow at half past noon,” Lockwood said. “Do you think you’ll be awake by then?”

You rolled your eyes good-naturedly. “I didn’t forget our deal that quickly.”

George raised his eyebrows. “What deal?”

“Oh, nothing,” you said. “Just sold my soul for a favor from Lockwood.”

Lucy frowned, eyeing the two of you. “Elaborate.”

Lockwood hid his smile with a sip of tea as he also looked at you. So this was still your treat.

You shrugged. “We’re going to a wedding together.”

“Not exactly selling your soul,” George said. “Congrats.”

You rolled your eyes. “We’re going together.”

“Congrats,” he said again. “Are we just emphasizing words now?”

“We’re going as a couple,” Lockwood said.

Lucy’s eyes widened and George nearly choked on his tea as they blurted out the same thing. “What?”

“A fake couple,” you added hastily, “to fool my family.”

“…Oh,” Lucy said, glancing at George. “That’s…”

“Less exciting,” he finished.

Lockwood made a face. “Less exciting? George, we’re going to be lying to her whole family for a whole weekend. I’d say that’s quite exciting.”

He glanced at Lucy for a moment before he sighed and looked back at Lockwood with a shake of his head. “Sure.”

“Anyways,” you segued, “I just thought you two should know. It’s not for another month and half, but between the usual ghost-hunting we’re going to be doing a fair bit of planning together.”

“Spend all the time together that you want,” Lucy said. “George and I are good enough at holding down the fort, right?”

“It was just Lockwood and I for months at the beginning of all this, and half the time I was on my own because of investigatory whims,” George said. “At least you’re usually sort of predictable, Luce.”

She frowned. “I take offense to that.”

Lockwood chuckled and shook his head as he set the other two cups of tea down on the table for them. “We won’t impede work at all, I promise. I’ll make sure everything still goes as smoothly as possible.”

“What Lucy said,” George said, finally satisfied with the order of all the ingredients as he got to work. “Spend as much time together as you want.”

“Maybe you will,” you said haughtily. “Maybe Lockwood’s lying and we’ll completely abandon our duties.”

“We won’t,” Lockwood assured, and you merely smiled as you took another sip of tea.

“Speaking of work,” Lucy said, “we ran into Kipps and Godwin on the way to the store.”

Lockwood’s expression hardened and he set his mug down a bit too forcefully. “Why didn’t you say that earlier?”

“Because it was nothing,” George said, looking up from cutting vegetables. You were glad he was the one with a knife and not Lockwood. “Just typical Kipps posturing.”

“He told us about some job they got,” Lucy said. “Some ridiculously rich widow hired Fittes to find and clear out the ghost of her husband, and they were put on the case.”

“What was her name?” Lockwood asked.

“I wasn’t really paying attention, if I’m being honest,” she said.

“Agnes Colville,” George said.

“That bastard!” Lockwood’s jaw clenched and he moved across the room to a stack of newspapers on the floor, toppling over from the height. He crouched down and began rifling through them, and after a second he pulled out one and held it up for you all to see. The look in his eye was only slightly crazed, which was admittedly progress. “He stole it from us!”

“I do remember seeing her in the paper,” you said after taking a moment to scan the cover. Her husband died of old age, and it was only because of their impressive fortune that anyone knew of it. “A tragedy.”

“I talked to her first,” he insisted, still crouched on the ground. “I called her right after I got this paper, and she told me she wasn’t looking for any agents.”

“She changed her mind, I guess,” Lucy said with a shrug.

“Or Kipps bothered her until she changed it,” Lockwood grumbled.

“Great,” George said wryly as he pushed garlic off his knife. “We’re going to be working double time to make up for this, aren’t we?”

“Sharp as always,” Lockwood said, and he finally stood up as he set the newspaper back down. He pointed a finger at you. “After we go dress shopping tomorrow, it’s straight to the archives to pick up a better case than Kipps.”

You raised an eyebrow. “We’re going dress shopping tomorrow?”

“Did I not tell you?” He frowned. “Caldecotts then dress shopping. And now archives.”

“No,” you said, “you absolutely didn’t.”

Lockwood shrugged. “Well, now you know. We’re going dress shopping.”

“Awfully eager to get into this boyfriend role,” George said.

“I take my job seriously.”

“I already have a dress, Lockwood,” you said. “Dorothy Perkins, remember?”

“This is a special occasion,” he said. “You deserve something nice.”

You felt your cheeks warm and you looked right at him. “You’ll pay?”

“Of course,” he said. “Business expenses, remember?”

You laughed and shook your head. “Yeah. Alright, we can go dress shopping. But if I’m getting a new dress, you’re getting a new suit.”

“Fair’s fair,” he said.

“Do we get any new clothes on your bill?” George asked. “Or is that just reserved for your fake girlfriend?”

“Oh, come off it, George,” Lucy said. “Let them have some fun together.”

“Thank you, Lucy,” you said as you sat down across from her.

“Of course,” she said. “You’re saving me from the Caldecotts and a day in the archives. I should really be thanking you.”

You turned to look at Lockwood. “You’re not going to use this as an excuse to get me to come along on all your errands with you, are you?”

“Do try and be supportive, love,” Lockwood said. “It’s only right as my girlfriend.”

You groaned as you leaned back in your chair, trying your best to ignore Lucy’s smile. “Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea.”

“Another Lockwood & Co motto,” George mused. “How fitting.”

“Is that Anthony Lockwood walking through my door?”

You looked up when you walked through the door after Lockwood, a grin already on his face as the boutique saleswoman, a kindly older woman, greeted him. A worker at an upscale clothing store knew him by name—already a good sign.

“Ms. Bridgeston,” Lockwood said, “it’s been too long.”

“It certainly has, young man!” She pulled him into a hug and he returned it, and the woman looked at you when she pulled away. “And who is this darling girl with you?”

Lockwood said your name with a gesture, and you smiled and held out your hand. “I’m his associate.”

“And my girlfriend,” he added as she shook your hand. You shot him a look over her shoulder with wide, questioning eyes.

“Practicing,” he mouthed at you with a shrug. He was so ridiculous that you had to stifle a laugh.

“Yes,” you said, looking back at her with a smile, “his girlfriend, too.”

“Well, it is wonderful to meet you, dear.” Ms. Bridgeston smiled at Lockwood. “Anthony here has wonderful taste in apparel—he was right to bring you here.”

“I believe it,” you said with a glance around. “We’re actually in the market for wedding clothes—my cousin is getting married soon.”

“Oh, congratulations!” She clasped her hands together, eyes shining as she looked between both of you. “Is there anything you need help with, or would you just like to look around?”

“We’re good to just look,” Lockwood said, “but we’ll certainly let you know if we need anything.”

Ms. Bridgeston nodded with another smile. “Certainly. I’ll be in the back stocking if you need me.”

“Thank you,” you said, and you looked at Lockwood as she walked off. “Any ideas?”

He shook his head. “Get whatever you’d like. This is a very special occasion.”

You chuckled and nodded, going off to look at a rack of dresses. The agency had been doing well for itself lately. You supposed you could splurge on a nicer dress after nearly dying a couple dozen times. “What are you going for?”

“Oh, I’m not getting anything here,” he said. “I’ve already got a suit at home, and I’ll get a pocket square that matches whatever color you’re wearing. We’re shopping for you—I’m just having fun here.”

“How exquisite,” you mused as you ran your finger over velvet. “We’ve only been fake dating for a day and you’re already all in.”

“Consider it getting in character,” Lockwood said. “We’ll already have gotten all our mistakes out of the way by wedding time.”

“Wise as always.” You took the maroon dress off the rack and continued moving down the line, and you glanced over at Lockwood. “You’ve already got what you want?”

“Most of my wardrobe is black and white.” He held up a navy suit. “This is different.”

“Hardly,” you said with a chuckle. “Dark blue is almost black.”

“This is my version of fun,” Lockwood said wryly, and you smiled as he went into the dressing room.

You spent the next while picking out dresses that struck your fancy, and by the time Lockwood was done, you had five in your arms. When he walked out, you nearly dropped them all.

You didn’t know what was wrong with you.

Perhaps it was lingering sleep deprivation from the near 24 hours you spent awake the other day. Perhaps it was lingering anger from your dealings with the Caldecotts—no amount of money could make dealing with Lorena worth it, but all those zeroes did help—or perhaps you were just already losing your mind.

Despite your complaints, you weren’t averse to the day Lockwood had planned out. Seeing as you’d spent entire days rooting through the archives with him on wild goose chases, an afternoon after an interview and some shopping wasn’t the worst it could get.

But now, standing in the back of the store as Lockwood emerged, you were beginning to question the wisdom of this decision.

Because you honest to God didn’t know what was wrong with you. You saw Lockwood in suits every day, or at least something suit-adjacent. Slacks, a jacket and tie, a million white dress shirts that you always end up folding. Pristine shoes, so shiny you can see your reflection in them, getting ruined by cobwebs and plasma over and over—you’ve spent many a night sitting with Lockwood talking as he polished his most recent pair of shoes, determined to get them back to their former glory.

The point was that you were used to it. You were used to seeing Lockwood dressed up—when you first joined the agency, you honestly thought he slept in suits as well until you ran into him one night on a mission for midnight tea.

So why were you unable to look away from him when he emerged from the dressing room? Why were you rendered absolutely and completely speechless?

It was nothing special, at least for Lockwood. Just a tuxedo. Navy blue rather than black like he always wore, but far nicer than the usuals. He was fussing with his bowtie as he walked out, muttering things under his breath, and thankfully not looking at you at all. You felt your eyes widen, your breath stolen from you for a moment, and all you could do was stare. Very classy of you, but you could hardly be blamed. He was stunning.

You didn’t even realize he was saying something until you heard your name for what had to have been the third time, and you blinked and snapped out of your stupor.

“What?”

He gave that damn smile and inclined his head slightly, holding up one end of the tie hanging around his neck. “Could you help me with this? I don’t know what’s wrong with me this morning.”

At least you had that in common. You cleared your throat and nodded, taking a deep breath as you walked up to him in the hopes that you looked far more composed than you felt. “Yeah. Of course.”

You felt his eyes on you the entire time and you tried your hardest not to focus on it. You’d done Lockwood’s ties millions of times, usually before a particularly important interview or a particularly difficult night. He always said it was good luck, and you always rolled your eyes with a smile.

“So?” Lockwood spoke after a moment, still watching you.

“It’s good,” you said with a nod as you finished tying the bow, making sure it was straight before you stepped away. “You look good.”

“Thank you,” Lockwood said, looking at himself in the mirror with a slight smile. “For the compliment and the help.

“It’s what I’m here for,” you said.

“And as much as I appreciate that,” he said, turning that smile on you, “we’re here so you can get a dress too. Did you pick any out while I was getting ready?”

You nodded and picked up the hangers you’d set down to help Lockwood. “Which one do you want to see first?”

“Definitely the maroon one,” he said with a nod. “Goes well with your eyes.”

“You’re too kind,” you said, and he chuckled as he pressed his hand to his heart.

You went behind the curtain, purposefully taking your time as you undressed so you could try and compose yourself further. It was just a suit, and he was just Lockwood, and this was just a fun little ruse to get your mum off your back for once.

Just a suit. Just a ruse. Just Lockwood.

You let out a deep breath and nodded, finally feeling like yourself again. You stepped into the dress and pulled it up, adjusting it around your figure before you zipped it up in the back, but you couldn’t get it all the way up.

“Lockwood,” you called, “can you help me?”

“Of course,” you heard him respond.

You pushed the curtain aside and stepped back out, making some more minute adjustments along the way. When you looked up, Lockwood’s eyes were wide, his lips slightly parted.

“Lockwood,” you said, staring at him.

He blinked and seemed to focus back in, his head perking up. “What?”

“My zipper.”

“Right.” Lockwood moved just a bit too quick around you, and you shivered as his fingers brushed your bare back for a moment while he pulled the zipper the rest of the way up. “Sorry.”

“Your hands are always cold,” you said. “It’s fine.”

“That’s—” he cleared his throat, and you turned just to see him shake his head. “Right. Yeah. Thanks.”

You raised your eyebrows, the slightest smile tugging at you. “For what?”

His own rose. “Hm?”

“You thanked me. For what?”

Lockwood shook his head again. “Don’t worry about it.”

You chuckled and nodded, holding out the skirt of your dress with your hands. “So? What do you think?”

“You look incredible,” he said, “obviously. It’s an honor to be your fake boyfriend.”

“You’re gonna make me blush,” you said, but your cheeks already felt too warm for comfort.

Lockwood grinned. “Good.”

You had to turn away at that point. He knew exactly what he was doing to you, teasing you like this. “You’re taking your role way too seriously,” you said, busying yourself with rifling through the rest of the dresses you picked out.

“I told you,” he said, “I take my job seriously. And as someone who takes their job seriously, I think that dress is definitely the one.”

“Really?” You held up a sparkling blue dress against you and looked at him. “What about this one?”

He shook his head. “Maroon is definitely the one.”

“I agree, dear.” You looked up to see Ms. Bridgeston walking out carrying two boxes, that same adoring twinkle in her eye. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you.” You looked back in the mirror for another good, long moment, and you nodded decisively. “I agree. This is the one.”

“Wonderful choice,” she said.

“Perfect choice,” Lockwood said with a grin. “If you get changed, I can go ahead and pay for everything. We’ve already used up half our day—we’ve got to get to the archives.”

You eyed him. “You didn’t just say this was the one so we could spend eight hours in the archives, did you?”

“No,” he assured. “That is the one—trust me, love. You just happened to pick out the best one first.”

You chuckled and shook your head as you started going back to the dressing room. “Whatever you say.”

Soon enough, you and Lockwood were both back in your regular clothes, dress bag in tow, walking down the streets of London.

“You seriously don’t mind spending all that money for this?” you asked, glancing over at him.

“Of course not,” he said. “I can always take it out of your paycheck, if it’ll make you feel better.”

You laughed and hit him on the arm, earning a chuckle in response. “As long as you seriously weren’t lying to me about liking this dress to get me to the archives.”

“I would never lie to you about something like that,” Lockwood said, and he held up his pointer and middle finger. “Agent’s honor.”

You smiled inwardly. “Thank you, then. I suppose I can handle spending the rest of the day in the archives with you with compliments like that.”

“Thank you, then,” he repeated. “We do have to make a stop for tea, first.”

“Naturally,” you agreed.

As you continued on your way, not exactly arm in arm but close enough for your hands to brush every so often, you found your mind drifting back to Lockwood in that damned suit. You cleared your throat and shook your head, trying to physically push the thought away.

“Everything alright?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you said. “Just got something in my throat.”

Lockwood nodded, thankfully oblivious to your inner struggle. You let out a deep breath.

This was definitely still a good idea.

#anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x you #lockwood x reader #lockwood x you #lockwood & co x reader #lockwood & co #x reader #reader insert #sadie writes

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sans-guy · 1 year

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(explosion) butch info masterpost (explosion) I’ve been asked a few things a couple of times and i just wanna lay some stuff out about butch that doesn’t get asked just so u guys know. i'll update as needed (if i can remember) <3

I can’t say everything because sooner or later I want to create some kind of comic or fic, but can’t right now cus my brain sucks and i'm pretty busy irl

Here is his updated ref sheet How old: 30-ish How tall: 6'8"

He kills people???!?!?!? D: Yes. only people that really deserve it, he's not a mindless killer. Even though he's a butcher, killing isn't something he enjoys doing.

AND HE EATS THEM??! D: No. but he sells the meat to monsters that do, in an effort to get rid of evidence. he's not friendly with the monsters he does business with, and he does not sell to humans. The selling of human meat is a drug trade of sorts; and it is by no means an easy business to get out of.

lore and loreposts; -He needs glasses -How he lost his fingers

-He isn't too fond of humans.

-despite everything, he is goofy.

-extra info about relationships/"clients".

-he is not too socially inept, but prefers to keep to himself and not say too much, just the way he was raised. -he is a workaholic, preferring to stay either busy or asleep, despite occasionally getting sick from all the stress he's under.

-he is technologically illiterate, hates newer technology, but will still use a landline (for his friends or for work) and the library computers with help (to check emails cus the modern age is horrible and requires you to have an email) -he is very slow to make friends, but when he does, theyre very good friends, going as far to consider them his family. -he LOVES knives, and has a collection of unique knives (culinary/pocket knives/hunting knives etc) he's found or obtained from flea markets.

-because of the state of his right hand, he's technically ambidextrous, since he's had enough time to learn how to use his other hand, but still writes better with his right hand. he could use ecto fingers if he really wanted to, but he doesn't care either way.

-he lost a tooth rough housing with his brothers when he was younger (he has many siblings ((and his older brothers picked on him becus thats what loving siblings do <3 )) )

-his arms and hands are riddled with scars and cuts because thats what a lifetime of physical labor and 10 years working with sharp objects will do to u

-the gloves he wears are cutting gloves here's some fluffy small character stuff for him ive thought about, i'll update this list when i . remember what i posted lovers/trust/friendship can i draw butch (or any of your characters)??

can i draw butch kissing me/my insert?

i'm ok with most fanart, I love everything everyone makes of my guys!! but if ur not sure if i'll be comfortable with it, please just shoot me a message. i dont bite i promise *bats eyelashes* also its a given but no fanart or ships can be inserted into the canon sorry

edit; pls pls check out the #fanart tag, so many beautiful ppl have drawn/written so many beautiful things of my boy and they must be seen

#butch #masterpost #urghh let me know if i missed anything or if i should add stuff #and i'll link this in my pinned post when i redo it #ggrhggahghg so many thoughts #long post #also im slowly working on cleaning up my tagging system cus i am so bad with it

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satuguro · 2 years

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✧*ೃ࿐ TONGUES & TEETH

[ ACT V: AN ANGEL'S FRAGILITY ]

xavier thorpe x valkyrie! reader

#SYNOPSIS— you and xavier go for a walk, you and enid think that tyler's an uber driver, and xavier needs to figure out his feelings.

#CONTAINS— enemies to fwb to lovers, slowburn, academic rivals, intimidating and flawed reader, familial issues (will be mentioned in this part), gore, blood, death, aged up characters (everyone is 18 except for eugene), sexual content (in this part & some other parts)

#AUTHORSNOTE— this took me longer to write for some reason but it's okay. thank you for all the support lately ily all xx

ACT I, ACT II, ACT III, ACT IV, ACT V, ACT VI

xavier didn’t like hospitals.

he didn't particularly spend a lot of his time in them, but when he did, he always hated it. the florescent lights, the strong smell of sickness and cleaner intermingled in the air, and the patients he passed by on the way to your room. all of them, either awake or asleep, had someone in the room with them; holding their hand, praying, talking with them. helping them.

he had to admit, it was awkward coming to visit you with weems. but weems offered to drive him so long as he kept a low profile about your condition, so he agreed to tag along. you were finally announced as stable after five days in the hospital; he guessed that having godly blood helped.

but while everyone had people in their rooms, all of them caring for their loved one so deeply, so tenderly, your room had only a black dahlia, a bouquet of baby's breath and lavender, and one of your mugs on a table.

the dahlia was from wednesday. the bouquet was from enid. xavier had brought you one of your own mugs the day prior.

but as he and weems entered the room, there was a woman standing at your right side. her hair was long and blonde, tied into a long dutch braid that reached all the way down to her hips. she wore a white turtleneck under a black trenchcoat and was the same height as weems. in her hands was your leather jacket from the night of your attack, now neatly sewn as though it hadn't been ripped to shreds.

none of your siblings looked like each other. you all had different mothers, but you all had odin's blood.

xavier placed his own gift next to their's; a random collection of your mugs from art class, and a pot you had made in pottery with a single white orchid in it. weems placed an envelope and a 'get well soon' balloon in the corner that xavier knew you'd poke fun at.

"you're one of y/n's sisters— eir, was it?" weems asked, approaching the valkyrie.

"yes. we met on y/n's first day." eir glanced at xavier, who only stood far behind weems. he looked perturbed, his jaw clenched as he sent daggers towards eir, but eir only sent him a kind smile before focusing on you again.

"i'm truly sorry for what has happened to your sister," weems continued, clasping her hands in front of her as she observed your sleeping face. "i'm sure that y/n has told you about her adventures—"

"it's all she ever truly talks about," eir laughed softly to herself, "she has always been drawn to trouble. even as a child— i'm sure you've seen it in her old forms."

"i have." an uncomfortable silence hovered in the air. the only thing that filled the quiet was the beeping of your monitor.

usually, when xavier came to visit you, he went alone or with enid. wednesday hadn't spoken a word to him since the attack.

xavier held you for what felt like hours. he rocked you back and forth as your sobs died down into sniffles. he pressed a quivering kiss to the top of your head as he breathed heavily in the cold. your hands were still wrapped around him, gripping his shirt.

until they fell at his sides, limp and lifeless.

"y/n? fuck, y/n?" xavier pulled you away from his chest to look at you. he desperately moved your hair from your face, his hands shaking violently as he held you in his arms. your eyes were shut, your face peaceful but lacking any sign of life. panic settled into his body as he shook you gently, careful not to move your wings. "y/n, answer me, c'mon," he pleaded, feeling the burn of tears behind his eyes.

your blood was everywhere; all over his hands, all over his pants and on his shirt. but the worst thing about feeling your blood wasn't that it was warm; it was that it was turning cold.

the sound of running footsteps on fallen leaves made him look up, a small sense of relief overcoming him when he saw wednesday with thornhill close in tow.

"get away from her," wednesday seethed, and with that, every ounce of relief disappeared from his body. she ran up to the other side of your body, her eyes widening at the sight of your snapped wings. "what did you do?!"

"you can't be serious, wednesday, she's dying!" xavier yelled, his eyes pleading for help as he fixed you in his arms. "we," he sniffed harshly, "we have to get her and eugene out of here. now."

"her wings will only bring her more pain," thornhill murmured, making xavier look at her in horror. eyes were set on something glinting in the distance, and she made her way towards it quickly. she returned with your sword in her hands, the weight heavy but manageable.

"no, you can't do that to her," xavier shook his head at he held you closer to him. it was a pathetic attempt to get you away as thornhill neared. "you can't cut off her wings ms. thornhill—"

"we need to do this, xavier. it will make it easier for us to get her to the hospital quicker." thornhill huffed as she raised the sword up, the weight far too heavy in her hands. it glinted in the moonlight menacingly, shining down on its owner. "i'm sure she'll understand."

"ms. thornhill, don't—" wednesday protested, but it was already too late.

thornhill let the sword fall on the elbow of your wings with a sickening thump. the sound of your bones and skin being cut seemed to echo in the woods like a haunting whisper. when one came off, the other followed.

"i'm going to visit eugene," weems said as she passed xavier, who could only nod as she left. yet again, there was that uncomfortable silence in the air as he stood in the room with eir. quietly, he moved to your other side as he peered at you.

you were so peaceful when you slept. your hair was a mess on the hospital white pillow, but it surrounded your head like a halo. your eyes were shut gently, and it looked as though you were only sleeping.

sometimes, xavier forgot you were quite literally an angel on earth.

your wings, now cut down to what xavier assumed was its elbow, was behind your back, completely bandaged. the hospital did everything they could to stop your wings from bleeding, but you lost so much blood; not only in the forest, but under their care. rumors circulated around school that you almost died.

"the nurses told me you and some girls visited her every day." eir spoke with a soft nordic accent, but she was easy to understand. she glanced at xavier with the same irises you had; calculating, strategic, and observant.

always on guard.

"the girls were enid and wednesday, her roommates." eir's eyebrows raised at his bitter tone, but said nothing as xavier continued. "i'm xavier. her.. friend."

eir placed the jacket in her hands on a nearby chair, smoothing it out as she left it. "it's our father's jacket," eir explained, her tone gentle, "he gave it to her years ago, when he saw her last." she turned to xavier, her eyes cold but her smile warm. "thank you for visiting her, xavier. i'm sure she'd be happy to know that you have come here every day—"

"where have you been?"

"excuse me?" eir blinked as she looked at xavier, who looked at her with a dirty look.

"you're her sister. one of nine, from what i heard from enid, and yet this is the first time i've seen anyone from her family visit," xavier scoffed, shaking his head to himself, "and only one of you showed up." his voice was pained; not for himself, but for you.

xavier knew what it was like to be lonely, to exist without the presence with others. he knew better than most how it felt to roam an empty home like a ghost, how it felt to be treated as though he wasn't even there. he knew how it felt to be in a room full of people and still be seen as nothing more than someone's shadow.

and to see you, someone who quite literally lost their wings over someone else, it pained him to see that it took your family nearly a week to appear.

"where's her dad— odin?"

"elsewhere."

"he couldn't even appear for her? not even for this— a near death experience?" xavier asked with a mirthless laugh, "does he even care for her?"

a smile appeared on eir's face, like a shadow from the sun. it brought nothing but anger to xavier to see her smile at his accusations, but she knew fully well that xavier was right. odin didn't want to appear, even when his daughter was within death's grasp. her sisters were off doing their jobs in other countries, all too deep in their jobs to manage time for their little sister. eir continued to say, "are you aware that y/n is the weakest of my sisters?"

"that isn't what we're talking about—"

"she is the youngest. the first born in the modern age; the rest of us were born millennia ago," eir looked at you fondly, one of her hands reaching out to touch your face. she stroked your skin under her calloused fingertips, a small sign of love. "valkyries age slowly— we aren't goddesses, you know. but many of us become stronger the more we age," eir shook her head, laughing softly to herself, "but not y/n."

"her body is weaker than ours. her back cripples when her strength runs thin and her skin bruises when you punch it— not like the others." eir shook her head, her hair flowing like water with her movements. "my sisters and i have seen vikings fall at our feet. men and women alike have begged us for mercy," eir swallowed as her face suddenly turned cold. it was as though she was reminiscing the memory of soldiers clawing at the ground as she pulled them away from their world, their pleads still fresh in her ears. "but y/n.. she fell at the feet of others."

"why are you telling me this?" xavier couldn't help but ask, his curiosity getting the better of him as he looked between you and eir.

"because all y/n knows is survival," eir stated with a sigh, "my sisters only know war. we grew up under the safety of our father, but y/n has never been as lucky," a bitter smile tugged at her lips, "it was as though trouble was constantly in her wake. war is temporary, but for it to happen every day in nearly every home you had," she spat her words out like poison, her words gritted and forced, "is cruel. it's cruel and merciless."

"where were you?" xavier asked, his voice no louder than a whisper. her entire explanation of your history did nothing to coerce his anger; if anything, it only made him angrier. eir's eyes looked into his, shining brightly with tears as she answered.

"valhalla. odin didn't deem y/n worthy enough to be with us," eir sniffed harshly, a hand coming up to wipe her nose. the valkyrie cleared her throat, fixing her trench coat over her body. "her wings will grow back when she truly needs them. it will be a painful process, but i am sure that you will be with her, xavier thorpe."

before xavier could protest, eir already left, leaving nothing that even showed that she had arrived in the first place.

you woke up without that familiar weight on your back.

your hands shook as you reached behind you, a whimper leaving your lips when you were met with your clipped wings.

and with that, you screamed again. nurses and doctors alike rushed into your room. you fought them all off, your recuperating strength almost no match for all of them at once. like a wild animal, you shoved them all off, your cries of horror being carried out into the pale hallways of the hospital.

"who did this to me?" you demanded, "who did this to me?!" your eyes burned red with tears as you fought against their restraints. tears streamed down your face as you wailed for the wings that had been so cruelly taken from you. the one thing that provided you peace and tranquil was mercilessly torn away from your hold, like a child whose mother was ripped away from them.

you knew you were lucky enough to still have the roots of your wings intact. that meant it could grow, but you had seen how painful wing regrowth was. how the sickening crunch of a wing being forcefully regrown brought on unimaginable pain.

but wing regrowth only happened when it needed to happen.

your punches and kicks were rendered into nothing as a doctor put a syringe into your neck, and the world went black again.

you were dispatched the next day, as your wings had miraculously healed their cuts. they were small and useless now, nothing more than an ornament you held on your back. they couldn't fold into your back anymore, only folding close to your body as you walked down the hallway of the hospital.

deep eye bags hung under your eyes as you roamed the hospital like a ghost. nurses, doctors, visitors, and patients alike watched you in awe, for in their eyes, all they saw was an angel with clipped wings. but you paid them no mind, too numb and too exhausted to care as you arrived in the doorway of a patient. your hand held a singular sunflower.

eugene's room was bare, but had a small mason jar of honey that someone from nevermore had brought. it brought a smile to your face to see it, but your smile didn't last when you landed on eugene's form.

the glow was soft around him, almost barely visible in the sunlight that shone over his body through the window. but you saw the golden particles that surrounded him; the gods were still deciding whether he would stay or he would go.

"you're y/n."

you turned around, eyes widening when you saw his moms. "i.. i just wanted to visit him—" you swallowed thickly, looking back at eugene's body. the machine on his nose and mouth that helped him breathe and the scars that littered his face made those familiar tears start up again.

you did this to him. you didn't protect him.

"i'm sue, this is janet," sue said softly, placing a small beehive sculpture onto a nearby table. she looked at you with a soft smile, taking in your weakened form. "honey, are you okay?"

"i'm so," you swallowed, avoiding their gaze as you felt the tears start up again, "i'm so sorry."

wordlessly, one of his moms stepped forward and engulfed you in her arms. your arms were dead at your sides, the guilt rippling through your body like crashing waves as janet wrapped her arms around you too.

they held you so tight. so tight.

"he talks about you and wednesday all the time," sue laughed as she and janet finally pulled away from you, "he always talked about how cool he thought you were."

you smiled, shaking your head to yourself. "he reminds me a lot of the friends i made in my foster homes," you said softly, looking at eugene fondly.

he was like a little brother you never had.

"thank you."

you furrowed your brows in confusion at that, turning your head towards janet. "what for?"

"for protecting him." janet looked at your wings, nothing but empathy in her eyes.

you clenched your jaw, the words doing nothing to calm the turmoil of guilt in your mind. but after a second you forced a tight lipped smile. "i have to go— weems is waiting for me outside." you moved past them awkwardly, avoiding their gaze. "i'll visit him as often as i can."

you retrieved your things from the hospital on your way out. your leather jacket was all fixed, to your surprise, and you pulled it over yourself before you walked out to the hospital parking lot. with your items in a box— you silently wondered who had brought a variety of your mugs and the orchid, as the other gifts were obviously from your roommates— you walked out of the hospital. weems stood next to her car, her outfit, hair, and makeup as perfect as ever. but even in her usually unreadable eyes, you saw sympathy.

you didn't like sympathy.

"it's nice to see that you are strong once again, y/n," weems commented, and you only forced a tight lipped smile.

"yeah. i guess the gods didn't think it was my time yet," you said dryly, already making your way into the passenger seat of the car.

the ride to nevermore was silent, as you weren't really in the mood to socialize with anyone. you simply watched the forest pass you by from the window.

"when we return to nevermore, it will be the beginning of parent's weekend," weems interrupted your contented silence, "i suggest you keep eugene's condition under wraps as to not cause panic."

"to not cause panic?" you echoed in disbelief, turning to the principal with a skeptic look, "principal weems, he's in the icu—"

"keep it under wraps, y/n." even with such a bright smile on her face, weems was able to sound borderline threatening.

the car came to a stop outside of nevermore. the second it was parked, you were already making your way out of the car and into the quad.

the entire quad was full of students' parents and family. you swore that you had never seen the quad so full of people from all over the world. parents, grandparents, siblings, even uncles and aunts all surrounded their kids as they all talked and caught each other up.

your wings ruffled gently under the confines of your leather jacket, still fairly weak. you didn't make your entrance grand, instead opting to stay near the the side of the quad and away from others as you observed them all.

a pang of envy hit your body when you watched everyone with their families. as much as you wanted to play off that you thought parent's weekend was cheesy, you wished that some of your family would make time to show up.

a part of you wished that your father would appear, but that was just the inner child in you talking. you had only ever seen him twice in your life; once when he pulled you out of your orphanage, and the second when he left an entire empty apartment to you. he paid the expenses, but he never visited.

"y/n?" enid's voice made you jump in surprise before you were practically tackled into a hug, her werewolf strength making you hit the wall gently.

"hey, hey; i'm strong but not as strong as i usually am," you managed a laugh, gently pulling enid's arms away from where your wings were hidden.

you didn't know why you were suddenly so embarrassed to show your wings now. maybe it was because it was a huge sign that you lost a fight. maybe it showed just how weak you really were; you didn't know. but feeling enid's hand brush against your wings from over the jacket made you want to hide your wings even more.

you used to be proud of them.

"why didn't you tell us that you were back?" enid asked, almost tearful as she held your shoulders. she looked so worried your original idea of keeping to yourself was hindered for just a second.

"i didn't want to make a scene." you managed a smile as wednesday appeared behind enid. her facade fell ever so slightly, her cold eyes softening as she looked at you.

"i did not doubt that you would fully recuperate in time for this horrible weekend. you have shown yourself to be quite a sadist," wednesday stated, glancing briefly at the other parents in the quad. she swallowed thickly before nodding her head once. "thank you for being there for eugene."

your eyebrows raised at her sudden sincerity. this was the first time you had ever seen her like this, and you nudged her gently as you stood between her and enid. "don't go soft on me, addams. we still have a monster to find."

the sound of weems clearing her throat in the mic made the three of you look up at her. her warm was as bright as ever as she addressed all the family in the quad. you didn't care enough to listen to her words as enid began to talk to you.

"the monster hadn't attacked anyone for the past week," enid said, "maybe you finally scared it off, y/n."

"maybe," you mumbled, "or maybe it's just regaining its strength to finish off the job."

"i realize most of you have heard about the unfortunate incident involving two of our students," weems said into the microphone, making you look up in shock.

she better not.

"but i'm happy to report that eugene is on the mend and is expected to make a full recovery, while y/n has already arrived back from the hospital," her arm stretched out towards where you stood with enid and wednesday.

oh, how you wished you could fly away from everyone's stares. you shifted uncomfortably at the smiles you received from strangers and classmates alike, the sudden spotlight fresh from you arrival from the hospital making you nothing short of embarrassed and annoyed.

"so let's try to focus on the positive and make this weekend the best parent's weekend yet!" weems' smile grew, and claps rippled through the crowd in agreement.

"on the mend? try in a coma," wednesday grumbled under her breath, making you nod and shove your hands into your pockets.

"i'm the reason he's in the hospital," you murmured, primarily to yourself. guilt stained your tone bitterly as you forced yourself to stop pondering about your lack of action.

"that is not your fault, okay?" enid said softly, her usually bright eyes darkening with concern. she turned to wednesday, "you stop beating yourself up over it, too."

"maybe the reason why the monster hasn't been seen is because of this weekend," wednesday said dryly, her expression only darkening at the entrance of her family.

you wouldn't lie, they all fit each other's aesthetic very well.

"i knew i should have worn my plague mask," wednesday practically seethed, already dreading the upcoming socializing she would have to do.

enid tsked, nodding over to her own family. her nose scrunched in slight embarrassment. "would you look at my family?" her mom and dad stood a few feet away from their rowdy boys, who were jumping around the picnic table wildly. "talk about toxic pack mentality," enid sighed, "i give my mom 30 seconds before her judge-y claws come out."

you and wednesday looked at enid with concern, who only let out a slow exhale before forcing a smile. "let's get this over with." she looked at you with a small tilt of her head. "are your sisters coming to parents weekend, y/n?"

"no," you responded curtly, backing away from your roommates. "i'll leave you both to it, though. good luck."

you watched on from the walls of the quad, your arms crossed over each other as you watched on from your brooding corner. everyone seemed happy enough to have their family around.

your eyes drifted up to the second level of the quad, and your eyes met familiar green ones again.

his face was unreadable as he looked at you. you sent him an awkward wave that quickly fell when you noticed bianca standing next to him. but she seemed equally as down as you were, so you awkwardly waved to her as well.

you watched them both talk, bianca obviously bothered by what xavier was saying, until she turned around to a woman wearing gold reptile clothing. she looked shocked, to see her, to say the least, almost like a deer in headlights. your eyes followed xavier as he left bianca with her mom, a sigh leaving your lips as you focused your attention to the families in front of you again.

the amount of family togetherness made you want to cry and throw up all at the same time.

you began to walk away from the quad, wordlessly moving past people like a ghost. you didn't want to stop and chat no more than you already had. you didn't have the energy to force yourself to be civil when you felt nothing but self blame, guilt, and anger for what had happened over the last week.

but most of all, as you walked out to the archery range and felt the wind blow gently against you, you felt grief. because you wanted nothing more than to feel that wind under your wings.

your hands were clenching and unclenching, your chest heaving as you desperately tried to calm yourself. you found yourself too deep in your thoughts to think straight, too guilty to talk to others who obviously cared about you, too angry for feeling so weak that you wanted to do nothing but destroy. you wanted to destroy that monster for leaving a 13 year old kid in the hospital, fighting for his life. you wanted to destroy the monster the same way he destroyed your wings.

you walked towards the rack of bows, hands working on their own as you grabbed them and one of the quivers, carelessly hoisting it over your back as you stood in front of an array of targets.

you loaded a bow in and pulled it back, aiming for a mere second before you let it fly. it hit the middle of the target with a thump, but you were already loading another into the bow. you let each arrow fly carelessly, so desperate for some kind of escape from your mind. from the memories of the mauling not even a full week ago, of you being carelessly thrown around while eugene screamed for help.

how pathetic was it, that you wanted to help eugene but couldn't even help yourself?

you never wanted that to happen to anyone else again. you were so close to experiencing the pain your sisters had told you about— the pain of being too attached only to lose them moments after.

you had to stay away.

"y/n."

another arrow in the middle, cutting through the last.

"y/n, stop."

you reached for another arrow, mindlessly loading it into the bow.

"are you even listening to me?" a hand grabbed your shoulder, and you immediately walked back and turned towards the person, the arrow pointed right at their heart.

xavier raised both of his hands in surrender, worry ghosting over his face as he looked at you in concern. "it's me," he breathed, eyes trailing down to the unwavering arrow. ever so gently, he took a step towards you and pushed the arrow aside so that it pointed away from him. "it's me," he repeated, green eyes boring into yours as you swallowed thickly.

you let the bow fall at your side, the arrow easily dropping to the ground.

"don't do that," you muttered, turning your eyes away from him first, to his surprise.

" 'm sorry," xavier couldn't help but say, the apology slipping past his lips before he could exchange it with a snarky comment. he exhaled slowly, taking a step towards you as you looked at the damage you had done to the archery target. "you shouldn't be training."

"why not?" you huffed, walking away from him to place the quiver and bow back.

"you know fully well why not," xavier said in exasperation, walking quickly after you. he knew you wouldn't stupid; you were just avoiding the idea that you simply weren't strong enough. "you need to be resting."

"you need to let me be."

"i'm not going to."

"and why is that?" you snapped, that familiar glare meeting his eyes. "you think that after that night suddenly our entire relationship has changed—"

"i held you while you were bleeding," xavier seethed, and you stepped towards him, stabbing an accusatory finger at him.

"you stopped me from getting to eugene."

xavier chuckled in disbelief, your words making him shake his head. he was sure that it was just the attack speaking; you were obviously still on edge over the whole thing, but he had to admit, to hear you be so mean hurt him. "do you know how much blood you lost?"

you opened your mouth to fire back, but xavier stopped you.

"it was everywhere, y/n. and your wings.." his eyes drifted to the leather jacket that covered you, your wings hidden under them. "your wings looked horrible."

your pained gaze left his eyes as you looked up at the sky, feeling that familiar pressure behind your eyes.

"thornhill had to cut them to bring you to the hospital," xavier continued, making your sadness slip away for a moment for it to be replaced with anger. but xavier saw it. "don't blame her for it, y/n."

"i feel like blaming everything right now," you said with a joyless laugh, "i feel like.. burning everything."

xavier looked at you, observing the way your turmoil was finally shining through the cracks of the walls you had built. "do you wanna go on a walk with me? you don't need to say anything— i know that you're definitely not in the mood for a conversation but.. i don't want you committing arson."

you couldn't help the small smile that tugged on your lips at that, xavier's eyes softening when he saw the genuine smile. his heart tugged in his chest when he looked at you; not out of sympathy, but out of something else unexplainable.

the both of you began to walk around the school grounds, the ambiance of nature being the only noise between the both of you. every time you approached the woods, xavier found himself moving to the side of where the woods were, walking along the border so that you didn't have to.

"i met your sister two days ago."

"you what?" you couldn't help but say, eyebrows raising. "they actually visited?"

there it was again, that tug in xavier's chest. "why are you so surprised?" he couldn't help but ask, but he continued anyway, "it was only one of them— eir," he listened to you sigh and murmur a small, 'of course it was,' before he proceeded, "and it was the first time she visited in that entire week."

"how are you so sure?"

"because wednesday, enid, and i visited you every day." xavier could feel your eyes on him. his cheeks burned red at the small confession, but he played it off, saying, "i got mad at her."

you swatted his arm in response, making xavier wince as he rubbed your mark. "stop interfering with my family matters," you scolded coldly, and he groaned at your words.

"fine, it'll be the first and last time, but that was the first time she ever visited. your father didn't even come."

"eir has always been the one that visited. she's never visited a lot but," you sighed, "she was always there. odin would never go." your tone was bitter as you kicked at a bunch of dry leaves on the ground.

"i understand." you looked at xavier curiously, and he took it as a sign to continue. "my dad told me in a text that he wouldn't make it to this year's parent's weekend," a forced, tight lipped smile appeared on his face, "he hasn't gone to all the others, so.. i don't really know what i expected."

you stayed quiet at that. you knew how that felt, to want a parent's presence and always be turned down. it was as though you were nothing but a burden to them. but silently, you weighed your options of opening up to xavier. you didn't want to get attached.

you wouldn't get attached.

"did eir talk to you?" you asked, changing the subject quickly. you didn't want to get into the nitty-gritty about your father when you barely knew him. he existed, you knew that much, but it was as though he was a figment of your imagination. like an imaginary friend that appeared only when they wanted to.

"she did," xavier nodded, looking ahead of him. it was a particularly cloudy day today, and the sun barely shone through all the thick clouds that hung in the air.

"about?"

"you." he listened to your groan, a fond smile gracing his face at the sound. "i think i learned more about you from her than i have from you."

"eir and her big mouth," you muttered under your breath. "well? what'd she say?"

"that you were the youngest of the ten," xavier began, "that you were always attracted to trouble—" he watched as you opened your mouth to protest, only for him to interrupt you, "don't even try and argue when you know it's right."

you shut your mouth and let him continue.

"and," the words ran around in his head as he chose them carefully, knowing that it would be a sensitive subject to bring up. but he pushed himself over the edge to say it. "that every home was war for you."

your jaw clenched, the immediate subject of your various home lives making you immediately close in on yourself. it was as though you could feel all of your walls strengthen at the comment, all to fight against xavier.

"you don't need to tell me more if you don't want to," xavier stated, and with that, the walls fell again.

"good."

you both continued your walk in silence. whether it was uncomfortable or comfortable, you didn't know, but you were silently thankful for it. you didn't feel particularly conversational.

but you found yourself being more curious about xavier. if anything, he was as guarded as you were— what a hypocrite. but maybe you were a hypocrite too.

"do you still think i'm the monster?"

you couldn't look him in the eye. but you know those green eyes of his were staring at you in hope that someone believed he was innocent. you didn't look him in the eye as you responded with a, "i don't know who it is."

xavier sighed, his shoulders falling at that. he didn't know how to convince you or wednesday that he was innocent— you were both far too stubborn to even hear him out. oftentimes, he heard wednesday's accusatory voice yell at him much like she did the night of you and eugene's attack.

"i'm sure you aren't fairing too well after the attack, either," you commented, changing the subject yet again. "how do you feel?"

"honestly?" xavier sighed heavily, "i can't get the feeling of your blood on my hands."

a spark of guilt ran through your body. "i'm sorry," you mumbled, the apology barely audible. but the wind carried it to xavier's ears, to which he could only shake his head in response.

"it isn't your fault," xavier said firmly, turning his head to look at you. but your head was focused on your shoes as though it was the most interesting thing in the world. he nudged your shoulder gently. "i mean it, y/n. besides— i've been using art to cope with all of it."

your eyebrows raised in curiosity. you guessed that his primary muse was the monster; you were right, but xavier knew that he had pages full of you and only you.

if anything, you had been his muse almost as much as the monster.

"can i see some of it?" xavier's skeptical look made your eyes widen, "not for evidence! gods, i just want to see."

you looked around xavier's dorm in interest as he shut the door behind you. he had kept rowan's side of the dorm just as he had left it; it seemed as though he was stopping himself from adding items to rowan's side.

there were two easels set up near his desk; one of them was covered by a sheet, while the other was the unfinished painting of the monster. your throat dried as you peered into its crimson eyes and its long claws; the same claws that hooked under your skin as though you were nothing but a piece of meat. your fists clenched and unclenched involuntarily— a small sign of your nervousness as you continued to stare at the painting.

but your trance was broken when xavier turned the canvas so that its back side was towards you. "this is how i cope, remember that," he told you, and you found yourself nodding. "that wasn't what i wanted you to see," xavier said, his cheeks burning red as he turned to the other easel. swiftly, he pulled the blanket off of the painting. "this was."

it was you.

the sketch he had done of you prior was now alive on the easel— literally. your wings were flapping behind you as you flied high in the sky. the armor you wore shone as the nearby moon hit it, and your helmet seemed to glint under the stars. your wingspan was huge, reaching from one side of the canvas to the other side. he paid so much attention to detail that you could see the familiar pattern of brown on your feathers you looked so powerful. so mighty.

but to see it in front of you after knowing what you've lost, you couldn't help but turn around immediately. "i have to go," you managed through the lump in your throat. you moved past xavier, his face falling as he reached out to hold your shoulder before you could leave, his hand brushing against the top of your wings over your jacket.

"wait—"

you immediately pulled your shoulder away as though he had burned you. you looked almost scared as you stared at him, your eyes misting over in tears.

gods, you really needed to get yourself together.

"i.. i appreciate the painting. i really do— but when i look at it," you exhaled sharply, unable to finish your sentence. you glanced at it, taking in how powerful you looked. how your wings were a symbol for many that everything would be okay. how you looked so strong. "it reminds me that..i don't look like that anymore."

xavier's brows were furrowed as he looked at you. your words hung heavy in the air, and you were almost too ashamed to look at him.

" 'm sorry," you laughed, looking up at the ceiling as you blinked your tears away. xavier walked closer to you as you did. "you're a creep, actually, for making paintings like that. i honestly expected it to be of wednes.." your words died in your throat when you felt his hands hold your face gently, pulling your head down to look at him.

xavier didn't say anything as he used his thumbs to wipe away your tears. he touched you, someone who was so accustomed to war, as though you were delicate. his green eyes studied you as you looked at him, your eyes drifting down to his barely parted lips.

and as he held your face between his hands, he kissed you. not in the way he had before. he kissed you as though he was telling you something that only you would understand. as though every slide of his lips against yours was another promise.

but you ignored those promises, because to you, promises would only be broken. because you didn't want to promise yourself to another if it meant that you could lose them in the end.

xavier pulled away from you, his forehead pressed against yours as he looked at your features. he was looking at you like you were his favorite painting. it was as though you had been sculpted by such a tender hand that part of him couldn't believe that you were truly here in front of him.

"i want you to make me feel better." the request fell out of your lips before you could catch it. it was barely audible, like a whisper in the wind, but xavier heard all of it.

xavier only nodded, and you both met in the middle again. the kiss, once so composed and gentle, became more passionate as you felt him under your touch. his hands held your face as he kissed you over and over, as though your taste alone was addicting. and to xavier, it was.

your hands ran through under his shirt as you found yourself on his bed yet again. you pulled it over his head before the back of his knees hit the edge of the bed, making him fall back. xavier quickly used his elbows to raise the upper half of his body to look at you. a frown tugged at his lips as he fully sat up, bringing you closer to him.

you sat on your knees on the space in front of him. your eyes were on his as his hands gently want to the zipper of your leather jacket. you gripped his wrist before he could pull it down, nervousness evident in your eyes. you took in a breath before you used your hand to guide his hand down to fully unzip your jacket.

his hands paused before he could fully pull it off of you. "may i?" xavier asked softly, waiting patiently for your response. when you nodded, he shook his head, murmuring, "i need you to say it. i want you to be sure."

"take off my jacket, xavier," you said, never pulling your eyes from his. your stare only fell when you felt your wings flutter out of the confines of the jacket; they were weak enough to not be as responsive as they usually were. xavier let out a slow exhale when his eyes trailed from your clipped wings to the three neatly-stitched scratches on your back, the memory still fresh in his mind.

"you're so beautiful," xavier breathed, his fingers feather light as he traced your tattoo.

if your fear for love didn't burn so strongly, then maybe you would've found yourself seeing him in a different light.

but you found yourself yearning for something else entirely.

xavier's lips met yours again as you pushed him so that his upper body was propped up against the headboard. you straddled him, his eyes looking up at you innocently. you throw your shirt over your head before leaning down to kiss him again. you rocked your hips against his, reveling in the low moan that he let out into your mouth. you felt him through his jeans, distracting him from kissing you properly as another groan left his mouth.

you lips left his, leaving a single line of saliva between you. your mouth met his neck, leaving open mouthed kisses along his skin that made him whine for more. your hand found its home at the base of his neck, squeezing ever so lightly.

"i thought i was supposed to be taking care of you," xavier said with a breathless laugh that quickly turned into a groan when he felt you press down against him again.

"you are," you mumbled, pulling at his pants.

xavier helped you take his pants off along with yours, both of you in your underwear as you kissed him again. he could feel how wet you were with every rock of your hips against his cock.

"i want you," you whispered against his mouth. you felt his hands trail down your body, mapping every inch of you under his fingertips. his fingers hooked under your underwear, stretching the elastic before letting it slap against your skin. he pulled it to the side, allowing his fingers to rub your wetness around, your small moan being swallowed by his mouth.

xavier hummed against your lips, pulling away for a second to whisper, "you have me."

another empty promise.

your eyes darkened at that. you pulled his cock out of his underwear, teasing his tip along your pussy to gather up its wetness. xavier's eyes were half lidded as he looked up at you, cheeks flushed as he bucked his hips up desperately. "patient," you scolded, before you sank fully onto his cock. the both of you gasped at the feeling, your hands on his chest as you allowed yourself to get used to his size. you shifted slowly, a low moan leaving his lips as his head fell back.

steadily, you moved up and down his dick, reveling in the feeling of being so fucking full. but you couldn't look away from him as you worked up and down; how his hands held your waist to guide you, how your body moved so fluidly against his, how his long hair framed his face so perfectly. his rosy lips were parted, letting out a whine when you slid down slowly, the pace almost unbearable but so so good.

"pretty boy," you said, your hips moving back and forth. you watched a sinful smile appear on his face at that. the glow from the sex only made him so much more beautiful under your gaze, as though he was the angel and not you. and how lewd was he to smile so sinfully as you fucked him. "so fucking pretty."

"y/n, move faster," xavier said, eyes pleading as he looked up at you. he was taking in every part of you; your heaving chest, the sweat that was misted along your skin, the way you looked at him. he was so addicted to you that it almost felt as though he felt something.

your hips followed his request, his eyes rolling back again when you began to ride him faster. your moans only spurred him to buck his hips up in time with you, the added pressure nothing short of delicious as you felt him hit that spot in you that made you see stars. "xavier," you moaned, and he fucked you harder.

"say my name again," xavier murmured, leaning forward to kiss your neck feverishly. you moaned his name again, feeling him leave marks in his wake. like water color, he painted you purple as you moved like water under his fingertips. so fluidly, your hips moved together, the friction borderline delicious as you chased your high.

the knot in your stomach was almost too much to bear, your moans raising in volume as you felt xavier bite down on your shoulder, hiding a particularly loud groan that threatened to leave him. "so beautiful," you heard him mumble, too high off of sex to make a comprehensible sentence. "gon' cum jus' for you," he continued, hands rubbing your hips and holding you close.

your head flew back as you finally came, your eyes rolling back as the pleasure surged through you. your hips continued to move as xavier's hands moved you back and forth, letting you ride him through your orgasm. xavier's lewd noises were muffled in your neck as he came right after you, spilling his cum into you and feeling it leak down.

ever so slowly, he raised you off of him, and moved you to lay down next to him. he peppered light kisses over the hickeys what decorated your skin, his fingers moving some of your hair out of the way as he allowed you to bury your head into his pillow. you looked at him, eyes unreadable as you left a lingering kiss at the corner of his lips.

and with that, you turned away from him to sleep.

by the time you woke, you felt his skin against yours. your hand had found itself holding onto his wrist gently as his arm stayed draped over your body. like a drum, his pulse thumped against the pads of your fingertips, strong and steady. you felt his soft breathing brush against the nape of your neck as he slept soundly.

you gently pushed his arm off of you, letting it fall behind you as you sat up at the edge of his bed. you looked up at the moon that shone through his window, your heart aching at the sight of it.

how you wished to fly close to the moon again.

your eyes floated over to the little details in xavier's room. the photos of him, rowan, and ajax, all smiling at the camera. an photo of a younger and enid, with enid on his back. doodles that ranges from cartoonish to realistic, all pinned up messily above his desk.

a page from his sketchbook of wednesday, playing her cello. now of all the pieces of art he had on the wall, he seemed to have paid attention to her's the most.

"why aren't you resting?" his soft voice brought you away form your thoughts, grounding you to the earth. he shifted behind you, the bed moving in his wake as he propped his head up on his arm. you were looking away from him, oblivious to the pained way he was looking at your clipped wings. the cut had already fully healed thanks to your godly blood, but the scars from the monster remained on your back.

"i have to go," you managed to say, turning back at him. xavier looked so drowsy, his eyes slowly blinking as he struggled to stay awake, but his green irises were alert as ever. your eyes followed each mark you had left on his skin like a constellation that only you knew of, the blooming purple nothing short of sinful.

"this means nothing, right?" his question was asked before he could stop it. it had been on his mind even before he had closed his eyes. he had gotten an intense feeling of deja vu as he asked you the question, knowing fully well that you had said something similar when you first slept together.

"right," you murmured in response. it was as though you were both signing a strict agreement that day. no strings. no feelings. only empty promises.

"i don't understand why i'm being invited."

"because it's a girl's night, silly!" enid smiled brightly, fixiing the snood she made for you over your head. it was an off white color; one that matched your color palette (enid's words, not yours). "and no one's seen you out of the dorm for a week unless it's for class. everyone's been worried."

for most of the week, you had kept to yourself. you didn't have the full energy to converse with others, and you hadn't been speaking to anyone for no longer than a few minutes; even xavier. but you needed time to recuperate before devoting your time to killing some monster and solving a murder.

your wings were strong enough to fully disappear into your back now. but it had been far too long since anyone had seen any sight of them. you guessed that you were forcing yourself to get used to the feeling of them being in your back forever; if you didn't have all your wings, then you might as well not have them at all.

wednesday had caught you up on what had happened during your week of rest and relaxation, telling you all about garrett gates and crackstone. in the same way she caught you up, you caught her up on what happened the night of the attack.

"i didn't get to see much before the explosion. i covered eugene with my wings because i was scared debris would fly at us."

wednesday looked down at the taxidermy kit her parents had given her. her surprise party was the night prior, and you had to say that you did a pretty good job at acting unsuspicious (though, you and enid kept sending each other excited looks all night).

enid, because she believed every birthday should be celebrated. you, because you couldn't wait to see how miserable wednesday would look when given a party.

but it was interrupted by a vision; one that wednesday had told you about moments prior.

"but someone definitely knew that we had gone in there with eugene earlier. whoever it was, they knew about the monster and was either covering for them or was covering their own tracks because they were the monster," you twirled a knife in your hands absentmindedly. fidgeting helped you think. "i think that we shouldn't rule out the possibility of there being an accomplice, but i'm gonna be honest— with weems covering for rowan's murder," your words turned bitter as you spoke about weems. the anger you had towards her for covering up a murder and not allowing rowan's friends to properly grieve still ran heavily through you. "i wouldn't be surprised if she knew something about the monster."

"besides, aren't you excited that it was wednesday's idea? i mean, she rarely does this— i guess it's because it's her birthday today." the werewolf was practically jumping on the ceiling from excitement, her hands moving passionately with her words as she walked away from you to talk to wednesday.

"wednesday's idea?" you echoed, your brows furrowing at the thought of wednesday addams planning a girl's night. you walked to your closet and grabbed your holster for your dagger.

just in case.

you knew you were smart enough to bring it, because you found yourself stopping as you opened the car to what you believed was your uber driver, only to see tyler staring at you in disbelief. "since when were you an uber driver?" you asked with furrowed brows, climbing into the car and shutting the door behind you.

"since never?" tyler responded, equally as confused as you as his eyes darted between you and enid in the backseat and wednesday sitting coldly in the passenger's seat.

"wait— you're our uber driver?" enid asked confusedly, turning to wednesday for answers.

"why do you keep asking that— i thought we were going on a date." tyler too looked at wednesday for answers.

"we thought it was a girls' night out!" enid explained, her look of disbelief slowly turning into one of realization. there was no girls' night out.

"there's been a change of plans," wednesday said curtly, not even looking at them.

"what's with the weird matching hoodie scarf things?" tyler asked, making you send him a warning glare.

"don't ask," you stated, your tone enough to make him shut up.

the gates tyler drove up to were overgrown and much too rusty; it practically screamed tetanus. fog obstructed your view of what was beyond the gate, as did the overgrown plants. you found yourself standing right at the front of the gate, looking up at the top of it.

if you had your wings, you could've just flown over.

"this isn't what i signed up for," tyler protested as wednesday began to pick the lock, his eyes nothing short of concerned as he only watched her pick the lock easily.

"ditto!" enid cried out, obviously terrified, "and i bet y/n didn't sign up for this either she's literally healing from getting attacked!"

"i'm healed," you corrected, your lips tugging into a frown as you turned to wednesday. "you should've just asked us to come along instead of getting their hopes up," you muttered to her, your tone only mildly annoyed.

"you knew that if i was planning something for my birthday, i wouldn't celebrate it with a dinner or a surprise party," wednesday said pointedly, not even fazed by tyler and enid's complaints, " if you didn't, then you wouldn't have packed your dagger. i want to do this."

"y/n's right—" tyler said with a nod, "you should've just asked us, not tricked us."

"if you want to go, you can." wednesday gave them a look before pullling out a flashlight. "i'm going to check out the garage."

the entire mansion was overgrown with ivy and vines, doing little to calm the hard beating of your heart. it looked as though there hadn't been anyone in and out of the area in years; which made sense, since supposedly all the gates family members either left or died.

"it's, uh, nice to see you're all better."

you turned to tyler, who was walking behind you. his flashlight was in his hands, illuminating the small smile on his face. but that smile quickly faltered when he saw the skepticism on your features. "wednesday told me about the wings," he added in explanation, watching as your skeptic look turned to a stone cold one. it was as though the mention of your wings left you numb once again. but tyler's eyes were still on you, observing you quietly.

"right. thanks."

the door rattled as wednesday struggled against it. she frustratedly tried to pull one last time, only to huff angrily when it refused to budge.

"let me try," enid said, walking closer and putting her flashlight in her pocket. with one strong pull, the door flew open, making enid's lips tilt upwards into a smile. but the look of shock wednesday gave her made her chuckle embarrassedly. "werewolf thing."

you reached for a nearby light switch as you entered. eerily, the light began to flicker as it illuminated the garage, focusing on a car that was parked right under it. it was covered by a sheet.

the the most confusing thing that you could see about it was that it looked spotless. even the cover looked as though it was recently used— not like the rest of the house.

wednesday pulled the cover swiftly, revealing a blue cadillac. "this is the car that ran the cadillac over," she breathed, and enid whimpered out of fear.

"this just took a horribly dark turn," the blonde said worriedly, her hand pointing towards tyler as she continued, "we need to call tyler's dad right freaking now."

"why?' wednesday asked, turning to enid, "so he an take me back to nevermore and get me expelled? it's not gonna happen." the pig tailed girl walked to the door that led into the house without another look.

"stay close," you told enid as you walked after wednesday, enid nodding as she followed behind you.

"how can she be so stubborn? i mean, all we wanted was a girls' night out!" enid's voice raised an octave due to her fear, her arm coming up to hook under your's.

the door creaked open as you entered it with enid close in tow. her flashlight moved around the abandoned hallway, the dust creating a layer of gray everywhere you looked. it was as though the house was left to rot and decay on its own. there were still photos of the gates hung up on the walls, all smiling at the camera. you let your hand run along the walls that peeled like a snake.

you found yourself in an office of sorts, decorated with an old t.v, a desk, a sofa, and a chair. the chandelier that one illuminated the room had fallen onto the desk. but what truly caught your eye was the painting of the gates. they were all positioned professionally and painted with a delicate hand; so delicate, that it seemed as though their eyes were following your every step. your eyes narrowed as enid and wednesday's flashlight focused on garret gates, who stood proudly next to his mother in front of a background of flowers.

"the tacky painting is fitting for a bunch of outcast haters," you murmured to enid, but primarily to yourself as you observed them all.

you followed wednesday as she walked into the library. cobwebs upon cobwebs covered the table like a sheet, creating multiple layers with the dust. antique items of all sorts were toppled over and rendered lifeless in what you would have considered a beautiful room. you looked at the titles of all the books, your eyes trailing up to follow wednesday's flashlight. it was shining directly on an area that had no dust and no cobwebs; the top of a mahogany wall design right between the books.

wednesday reached up and pressed on it, and the mechanisms from within the door began to click and move. one of the library shelves pressed in and moved to the side, revealing a shrine for no one other than joseph crackstone. at the sides, someone had written 'blood will rain when i rise,' in red marker; you knew that it wasn't real blood. you looked closer, frowning at the sight of multiple candles that littered the small shelf below the pilgrim's painting.

"you'd think that of all the things they'd worship, they'd worship someone that isn't a colonizer," you said with a judgmental look. but to say that you were surprised that a family who hated anyone remotely different would idolize a colonizer would be a lie.

"who doesn't have a spooky built-in alter in their family library?" enid managed out with a hesitant smile.

"our is in the living room. more seating for year-long dia de los muertos," wednesday mumbled, watching as you reached forward to press a candle wick between your fingers. you pressed another wick between your fingers. your face dropped at the heat you felt from both.

"they're still warm," you told the others, hearing enid's uncomfortable whimper.

"tyler, you search the ground floor. enid, y/n, and i will search upstairs," wednesday ordered, glaring at tyler when he looked at her skeptically. "what?"

"why can't y/n stay on the ground floor?"

"scared?" you couldn't help but ask, rolling your eyes as you crossed your arms over your chest.

"she is the second person who knows the most about what is going on," wednesday said curtly, looking at tyler with narrowed eyes, "or do you need her protection?"

tyler raised his hands in surrender. "fine! jus' seems unfair, that's all."

wednesday only huffed before turning around, already making her way to the stairs.

"sad, isn't it?" you said sarcastically, moving to follow wednesday and enid as they began to walk back down the hall. you were careful not too make too much noise as you walked up the stairs, as you could hear some of the steps groan under your feet.

you walked behind wednesday and enid, looking up the walls and further up ahead to assure your temporary safety. wednesdsay came to a stop at the top of the steps, turning to the both of you. "you go left, enid and i go right."

"do you seriously want to split up? here?" enid asked frantically, her voice falling to a harsh whisper as she said, "that is literally how every best friend dies in a horror movie."

"i'll be fine. don't worry about me." you briskly turned around to search the left side of the upper floor, your hand floating over the holster of your dagger as you peeked into every room. but it seemed as though every room was rotten and decaying; bed frames were slanted off of the walls, rooms were left to the rats and spiders, and the strong smell of asbestos wafted all throughout the house.

but the longer you walkers, the more you felt as though something was wrong. something was horribly off in the house, and it wasn't the evident racism against outcasts or the fact that they had a shrine.

you peeked into the last room down the hall, your face falling at the sudden neatness of it all. it was as if every room was hit by a tornado except for this one, leaving it spotless. the pink sheets of the bed seemed washed, as did the rug that sat on the ground. not a speck of dust remained on any of the furniture, showing off how well it had been taken care of. on the side table of the bed sat a vase full of pastel pink roses.

"guys!" you called behind your shoulder, reaching out a hand to touch the roses gently. they were still fresh; not a single sign of death.

wednesday and enid ran in, their faces equally as shocked as yours as they began to poke around. enid went up next to you, gazing at the roses in thought. "these are really new," she commented, making you nod as you turned to everything else in the room.

"most of the things in here have been taken care of. even the sheets and the rug have been washed." you ran your hand down the sheets of the bed, the fabric soft under your touch.

"this is laurel gates' room," wednesday said, her eyes set on a music box. you and enid approached her, peering over her shoulders as she shone her flashlight on the embossed 'l.g.' on the outside of the box. a ballerina stood proudly inside of the open music box for all to see.

"looked like somebody moved back into their old room," enid said, her face now in what seemed like a permanent frown.

"not possible— she died 25 years ago. drowned overseas."

you placed your hand on the table where the music box sat, silently catching the attention of your roommates. you raised a finger to your lips, your hairs standing up straight as the sound of objects clattering reached all of your ears. "we have to go," you said firmly, unsheathing your dagger as you walked quickly to the doorway, peeking in both sides before motioning for them to follow.

wednesday nodded, grabbing the ballerina box as she took enid's hand and dragged her along to follow you. enid's complaint of, "this is officially the worst girls' night ever!" didn't distract you from finding a way out of the house.

"guys! get out! it's here!" tyler's panicked yell was muffled by the floors of the house. the three of you made a beeline for the stairs, fully ready to go down, until the familiar sound of claws slashing skin made you stop the other two.

the sight of the monster's shadow made your blood run cold. its claws were as sharp as you remembered it, and you found yourself gripping your dagger as hard as ever as you felt the feeling of being pierced through your back like a meat in a freezer. those long nails, sharped than daggers, were in your back only a week and a half prior.

they were the same claws that brought eugene into a coma.

and you almost found yourself giving into the impulse of revenge. the impulse that wanted you to dig your dagger into the monster just as it did to you, to give it a slow death that would allow you to watch the life die in its eyes. you wanted to tear it apart limb from limb just like it had torn apart its victims. you wanted it to experience the same pain they all felt.

but you didn't.

you pushed the dagger back into its holster. "go!" you told the others, pushing them back up the steps as you allowed yourself to turn your back to the monster, feeling the steps rattle with its every step.

"the dumbwaiter!" wednesday said, already running towards it and pushing enid inside.

it was right behind you. you could feel it walking closer and closer as you pushed wednesday into the tight space before following quickly behind her. you looked at the monster dead in its red eyes before you shut the dumbwaiter door, pushing the others back as you allowed yourself to shield them.

"oh my god, oh my god," enid whispered frantically, her hands shaky as she turned her flashlight off. you raised a finger to your lips again, your eyes wide as you looked at enid and wednesday.

they weren'y hurt. that was good.

wednesday swallowed thickly, her eyes set on the door before the dumbwaiter rattled. outside, the monster roared in anger as it tried to get to the three of you, its arms seemingly shaking the entire dumbwaiter as it only became more furious by the second. wednesday reached forward, her snood in hand as she began wrapping her snood around the two handles of the dumbwaiter to keep it shut.

"no, not your snood!" enid said desperately, her eyes pleading as she tried to stop wednesday from using the scarf she had worked so hard on.

"stop," wednesday said, her eyes stirring with something unreadable as she continued to use it to keep the handles shut. you looked at enid, who seemed close to tears, and murmured a small, 'don't worry,' that honestly didn't do as much as you hoped it would.

the sound of screeching metal reached your ears, and you turned around, your throat running dry when your eyes met bulging red ones. the monster had scratched the dumbwaiter with its three claws, allowing it to look right at the three of you. like a predator stalking its prey, it readied itself to reach inside to grab you until—

the rope snapped, sending the three of you plummeting down. enid's screams and the sound of rushing wind were all you heard before the dumbwaiter reached the basement with a loud crash, sending the three of you flying out of it.

you groaned as you landed on your back, the stinging pain pain from the healing scratches still making you wince. you prayed to the gods that the wounds didn't open up again.

you stood up, turning to enid and helping her up easily. the sound of wednesday pulling the light open made you look towards it, your heart falling at what you saw on the shelves. jars of human remains, from a foot to half a face, were neatly preserved and on display for you to see. you could feel the pain radiating off of them as you took a step closer, your face only showing your disbelief. "these body parts were taken from the monster's victims."

how could their family and friends grieve if they didn't have every part of their family member to bury as they wished?

dust fell on you with every step the monster took, the old wood practically bending under its weight as it walked slowly to where the basement door was. you rushed the two girls towards a nearby window, helping push enid up and through before pushing wednesday up.

"y/n, come on!" wednesday yelled, the monster right behind you as you forced yourself to jump up to the window, their hands grabbing you and pulling you through.

you let out a groan when you felt those familiar claws only swipe at your leg right before you were fully out of the basement. you laid on your back on the ground, your eyes set on the starless sky as you felt the pain radiate from your calf and your back. but quickly you forced yourself up, hiding your new wound with your pant leg.

"you okay?" you heard wednesday ask enid, only for her to scoff and walk away, saying 'since when do you care?' over her back.

you and enid ran down the woods, her run slowing to a jog when she saw that wednesday wasn't following her. "what the hell are you doing?!" she yelled; you had never seen her more stressed. but she had every right to be.

"we have to go back for tyler!" wednesday yelled behind her back, running quickly to the side of the house.

"we have to go with her," you told enid, who only stubbornly shook her head as she pointed in wednesday's direction.

"no! she put all of us in trouble, y/n—"

"you and i both know that you care too much about her to leave her with someone who's wounded," you hissed, making the werewolf shut her mouth immediately. "there's no place for grudges during a time like this." your words hung in the air for a few seconds, your eyes studying the discontented look on enid's face before she reluctantly nodded in agreement.

"fine."

"great." you led her back to where wednesday ran, your hand holding your dagger warily as you followed wednesday's general direction. you found wednesday knelt down next to tyler, who had three deep scratched on his chest.

she turned to enid, handing her her flashlight. "enid, hold this," she said, her voice panicked as she knelt back down to tyler. enid reluctantly held it up for her, her foot tapping impatiently on the ground.

"that thing is still inside!" enid cried, head whipping between tyler's wounded form and the area around them.

you stood by as a guard, your focus entirely on the woods and the possible areas the monster could attack. your hand held your dagger so tight that your knuckles paled, the handle's groove leaving indents on your skin. you could feel blood seep down your calf from your wound, but you refused to acknowledge it, too focused on protecting the others to even care about your own health. their panicked voices faded out into the background when you heard the crunch of nearby leaves.

your head turned quickly to the side, your dagger ready to be thrown before your muscles relaxed at the sight of xavier.

"xavier?" you asked in confusion, his face falling when he saw you.

he turned his head to the side, seeing tyler bleeding profusely from the scratched. xavier ignored wednesday's look of shock and suspicion as he tugged his scarf off of his neck, handing it to tyler. "here. take this."

tyler grunted as wednesday applied pressure to his wound, her face showing subtle signs of worry and panic as she cared for him. but she looked back at xavier in shock, her head already putting the pieces together and coming up with a conclusion for his sudden appearance.

you sat at the table next to enid and xavier, your eyes set on your fidgeting fingers as wednesday patched tyler up.

you hadn't said a word since the attack at the house, your body far too tired and your mind too spent to actually come up with meaningful words to say. you felt nothing but pain as you massaged your hands over and over; pain from the body parts you had found in the house, pain from your back hitting the ground after a week of being out of the hospital, and pain from the wound you were hiding from everyone. you were sure that your socks were now stained crimson with how the blood had seeped down, but no one had noticed that you were wounded, as your pants were black.

"thanks doc," tyler said with a weak yet lighthearted smile as wednesday placed another bandage between his scratches.

you peeked up to look at xavier after the comment. you were met with the face of jealousy and envy. clenched jaw, a subtle eye roll, a frown tugging at his lips.

he cared about her so much. it brought a small pained spark in your heart.

you nudged him from under the table with your wounded leg, ignoring the pain that shot up your calf at the action. xavier looked at you with furrowed brows, and you only mouthed, "stop being jealous."

xavier huffed at that, only turning back to look at wednesday. to say that he wasn't sure what you meant would be an understatement; he knew fully well what you meant. he liked wednesday. he wanted to tell her how he felt, but she cared so much for tyler.

of course, to you, xavier's answer seemed simple; just tell her about his feelings. but xavier was never good at words, and he was even worse at figuring out his emotions. maybe that was why he found himself sleeping with you again and again; he didn't have to deal with them if it was with you.

feeling a romantic connection with you was different from worry, in his eyes. because he found himself looking at you, fidgeting so strongly with your fingers, heavy eye bags under your eyes, the usual healthy glow of your skin now gone and replaced with something duller, and he felt nothing but worry.

now, it was his turn to nudge you. "you're quieter than usual."

"am i usually loud?"

"loud and annoying, yeah," xavier said, making you roll your eyes. you leaned back in your chair, placing your clasped hands on your chest.

"what is it?" you asked him, your voice dry as you looked at him expectedly. even your eyes didn't have the same spark in them.

"are you okay?" xavier asked, the question no bigger thna a whisper. he was looking at you with furrowed brows, his eyes tracing over your form as though he was checking for any sign of a wound.

"'m fine," you only managed out, letting out a heavy exhale through your nose. you turned your head away from him, moving your legs slightly.

but as xavier looked you over for injuries, his landed on the sock under your loose black pants. they rode up slightly as you moved— that was why you were able to get away with hiding the scratch, as the bottom of your pants had ridden up slightly while you were getting away —but your socks were white. from where xavier sat, he could see that the white cloth had been stained crimson with your blood.

he stood up abruptly. "tyler," he forced out through gritted teeth, his eyes lingering on how wednesday's hands pressed the bandages down for a second before focusing on the guy, "where's your bathroom?"

"that hallway, to the left," tyler responded, offering a small yet kind smile that xavier didn't return.

"c'mon, y/n." xavier stood next to you, offering a hand to your seated form. you looked at it with a skeptical look before looking up at xavier.

"excuse you?"

"we need to talk, y/n." xavier lied, his lie believable enough to make you groan and take his hand to stand up. he saw you wince ever so slightly when you put your weight on your wounded leg, but you played it off.

you pulled your hand away from him as you followed him into the bathroom. "what is it?" you asked confusedly as he pulled you in, shutting the door and locking it behind you.

xavier didn't respond as he set the toilet seat down to close it. "sit there," he told you, moving past you to rummage through the galpin's bathroom drawers.

you scoffed at his order, crossing your arms over your chest. "not until you tell me what was so important that you had to drag us away from them."

xavier didn't respond, pulling out a gauze pad, petroleum jelly, and a wrap around bandage. he bent down to look under their sink for clean cloths.

"gods, hello? are you even listening to me?" you asked irritatedly, your tone making xavier stand up straight and look at you.

"why didn't you tell them that you were hurt?" your look of irritation fell, confirming xavier's hunch as he sighed, shaking his head to himself. he didn't say anything as he organized the items on the floor of the bathroom, his throat moving as he swallowed. "i saw your sock when you moved. you're bleeding."

you didn't speak as you reluctantly sat on the toilet seat, relief spreading through your body at the lack of weight on your leg. you watched as he knelt down to sit on the floor in front of you, a clean cloth in his hand. he applied pressure to your wound, hearing you hiss at the feeling. "well?" he asked, looking up at you. "why didn't you?"

you clenched your jaw, wanting so deeply to avoid his gaze, but his green eyes were searching your face for some kind of answer. "it wasn't important. just a scratch."

"tyler got a scratch too."

"why are you bringing him up? you literally hate the guy."

"and how do you know that?" xavier challenged, making you scoff.

"i see the way you look at wednesday. how you want her to look at you with the same look she gives tyler," you said, sighing as you continued, "how you want her to care for you the same way she was caring for tyler. it's nice— slightly sad —but nice because all of your problems could be fixed if you just told her how you feel."

xavier looked up at you at that. his eyes were clouded with something you couldn't read, his small murmur of, "i don't think that'll work," making you groan in frustration.

"seriously, xavier. just tell her—"

"stop changing the subject, y/n." xavier's voice wasn't firm at all. he didn't even seem irritated with you as he continued to apply pressure to your calf. his voice was soft as he addressed you, only full of worry as he continued to treat you. "why didn't you tell anyone?"

you swallowed thickly. "i didn't want anyone to help me."

xavier didn't say anything. he stood up, exchanging the bloodied cloth with a clean one. he ran it under the water of the sink before sitting back down in front of you and your leg. he gently cleaned it with the wet cloth, choosing his words carefully before he asked, "why?"

your hands clenched and unclenched, showing your obvious nervousness before you replied. "because it makes me feel weak. weaker than i already am."

you expected him to laugh. to tease you for being so sensitive about meaningless acts of service. to poke at you for complaining about being weak when there were other pressing matters to worry about.

but xavier only hummed in response. he grabbed the petroleum jelly as he set the wet cloth down. he waited for a minute for your leg to air dry, taking the moment of silence to speak.

"i'll patch you up quietly, then. whenever you want me to."

he wasn't sure if there was something hidden behind that small promise of his. xavier's eyes pulled away from you as he put petroleum jelly on your wound, his touch so gentle as he spread the ointment. he feared that too much pressure you make you wince again; he didn't want you to worry about that.

but as he said that comment, that small reassuring quote that would have meant nothing if xavier wasn't an overthinker, he wasn't sure what he was promising. the thing is, xavier did overthink. he folded his thoughts over and over a lot in his head, to the point where art was his way of dealing with it all.

that was why a part of him knew that there was a hidden meaning behind that statement that even he couldn't figure out. as he sat on the floor of the bathroom, patching up your leg so tenderly, the words simply felt like more than what it was. more than those two sentences.

and while you never wanted to hold onto a promise, you could only nod in response.

ACT VI

#AUTHORSNOTE— i feel like this is the longest part i've ever done but oh well! i hope you all enjoyed it and thank you sm for all the support lately it makes me wanna write even more xx

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