#i was possessed by a Vision and thought maybe somebody else would like to see it.

[ty-bayonet-betteridge]

your transfem friend recommended a clinic to get your bottom surgery done at. she says its cheap, not gatekeepery, and the results are good, even if the doctors a little skeevy. youre at the address she gave you and are wondering how exactly your murder will go down. the door is on a third floor landing accessible only from a fire escape out of a back alley in the worst part of town youve ever seen. you knock three times and the door is answered by a ratty-looking woman with a severe slouch smoking something that doesnt smell like nicotine and doesnt smell like marijuana. her wavy blonde hair is unkempt. shes wearing an oversized grey hoodie that hasnt been washed in some time. you can identify blood on the left sleeve and vomit across much of her side, as well as other, more mysterious stains. you cant tell if shes wearing anything underneath the hoodie. the inside of the apartment - because it is, very clearly, her apartment - has a smell that you cant place but, if pressed, would probably call sweat, though you know that description is lacking something.

dr davis, you ask. she smiles wide, and her teeth are shockingly good for the state the rest of her is in. just call me riley, she says. never did get a degree.

she ushers you inside and sits you down on a sofa almost as stained as her hoodie. can i get you a drink she asks. a drink, you repeat, dazed. she says yeah. she says she has diet coke, beer, vodka, and coffee. says she used to keep tea around for a friend of a friend but she hasnt come by in a few years and the leaves are probably losing flavor by now. you say just waters fine. she shrugs and says your funeral. she comes back from the kitchen and sweeps some stuff off the coffee table. you see a stray scalpel, a roll of gauze bandages, a soda cup from taco bell, and various crumpled papers amongst the rubbish that she knocks aside before setting down your glass of water. she has a beer in her own hand and pops the cap off with her teeth, though the motion isnt quite how youre used to seeing people do it. she takes a big gulp before she keeps talking.

so what do you want your pussy to look like, she asks. you splutter a bit. she says you are the one who needed their bits redone right. you flush and say yeah thats me. she nods and says right so what do you want. you struggle to give a good answer and she starts asking questions. depth? width? color? clit size? you give your answers falteringly. she starts asking about labia. oh, you dont want dentata, do you, she says. that costs extra. you say you dont know what that means. she says dont worry about it. hey do you wanna get pregnant? you splutter again. not now she clarifies. well i can get you pregnant now too if you want that. doesnt even have to be human i think i have some horse sperm around here if you want. i just meant like ever in the future. you say you dont know. she says okay shell leave it out for now but come back if you ever want her to put the womb in. youre too stunned to reply.

she says oh do you want to keep your dick, i can do that. you say you thought they needed the tissue from the penis in order to make the vaginal lining. she laughs and takes another gulp from her beer. she says so is that a no. you say you guess you hadnt thought about it. she says she can reschedule if you need to think, no rush. you say no i guess i dont want it anymore. she nods and says come back if you change your mind.

she says ok, i think i can start operating now if youre ready. you say okay and she tells you to lie on your back and strip naked. you follow her instructions. youre still not sure if youre going to die today or not. she pulls on a big pair of rubber gloves. not latex medical gloves, they're yellow dishwashing gloves. she grabs a small jar of what looks like petroleum jelly off a shelf nearby. you cant help but notice that theres also lube, condoms, saran wrap, and a bottle of honey on the same shelf. you dont ask. she starts vigorously rubbing the jelly into your skin from the belly button down. everywhere it touches you instantly go numb. she keeps talking while she works. a lot of it is her telling stories about "her amy." you cant tell if amy is a sister, wife, or pet. she might be all three.

she reaches up to grab an empty syringe off the top shelf. when she stretches you notice shes naked under the hoodie. you look away bashfully. she doesnt seem to notice.

she fills the syringe with liquid from a bucket in the closet. the liquid is neon green. she injects it into your inner upper thigh. you are now certain you're going to die today, but you cannot make a break for it with your legs numbed, so you wait.

she says okay this is the part where a lot of people get squeamish so look away if you think you might get sick. she pulls out a set of knives. some of them look like dentistry tools, some of them are medical scalpels, and some of them are kitchen knives. you look away. she starts humming to herself while she works. the tune is pop goes the weasel.

hey, she calls out to you from between your legs, how many nerves do you want in your clit? you say uh i dont know, whats a normal amount. she says about ten thousand give or take two thousand in either direction. you say ten thousand sounds fine. she doesnt respond, just goes back to humming. its a different tune. shes humming old macdonald now.

she gets up a couple times to grab new drinks. you say should you be drinking during an operation? she says dont worry i know what im doing. besides i never took the hippocratic oath. she laughs at that, the sound somewhere between a giggle and a cackle. you don't think its that funny. she resumes her work.

this time shes humming the alphabet song. you ask how old are you anyway? she says somewhere between 12 and 47. then she laughs again. you decide to stop asking questions.

four beers, two diet cokes, three unidentifiable cigarettes, and five hours later, she stands up and announces shes done. she wipes her brow without taking the glove off, smearing unidentifiable bodily fluids across her forehead. she jabs another syringe into your other thigh and the feeling returns to your lower body. you're a little sore but other than that you feel great. she wheels over a full length mirror and tells you to take a look. its perfect. youre everything youve ever dreamed you would be. you cant describe how euphoric it feels to see a vagina, your vagina, between your legs. you thank her tearfully. she smiles awkwardly. of course, shes saying.

how much do i owe you you ask. she shrugs. iunno, a hundred bucks? im not in it for the money. you pay her the hundred bucks and leave quickly. you barely remember to get dressed again before heading out. you have never seen Riley again.

[angstyaches]

The Hexagon: Aftermath, Part One

Hexagon Parts 1 - 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

This is a long one (4,000+). It's a lot of general recovery stuff, with a bit of rare Charlie/Ryan interaction.

Also, please note that I am in no way a medical professional (and neither is Ryan).

CW: effects of hunger/exhaustion/dehydration, passing out, slightly medical setting, injury (burns), nausea, mention of emeto, anxiety, refeeding, mention of blood drinking, stomach noises, embarrassment/awkwardness, demonic possession, fear for CT's wellbeing.

___

The last stretch of the car ride felt like the longest, and yet Charlie felt stuck in a daze. He couldn’t sleep anymore, no matter how badly he wanted to. What mental energy he had, he was channeling into not crying, not throwing up, not panicking over the sickening fear he felt, that he would suddenly be flung from a dream and back into the forest. Into the hexagon. 

He must have drawn a loud, shaky breath or something, because Shayne tilted his head to try to look at him. 

“You okay?” 

Charli nodded. “I’m...” 

Whatever the end of that sentence was supposed to be, it didn’t make it to his lips. He wasn’t even sure why that was, exactly. He just wanted his bed. He wanted his parents. He wanted to be alone with Shayne so they could cry and process everything at their own speed. 

He most certainly did not want to see Ryan Aldridge waiting in the driveway as Elliott pulled up to the townhouse.

There was no delicate way of putting it; Charlie had never stopped finding Ryan abjectly terrifying. He liked to think he’d done a decent job of acclimatising to a world that consisted of demons, demon eaters, witches, shifters, and vampires, but the most ancient vampire he’d ever met still send tendrils of cold through his body. She never smiled. She never looked angry. She never made any sudden movements. And she had never transitioned away from calling him Mr. Waters. Then again, he’d always been too terrified to ask her to call him anything else, so maybe that one was on him. 

In his fragile state, she was probably the last person he wanted to see right now. 

She was standing in the driveway of the townhouse, holding a black parasol to shield her face from the sun. She was wearing a crisp white pantsuit that washed out her unnaturally pale skin even more. For a woman trying so hard to block out UV rays, she looked like she should have come with her own light sensitivity warning. 

Elliott pulled up the handbrake and whipped off his sunglasses. The engine rumbled down to silence, finishing off with a whine from the air conditioning. Ingrid had been reminding Trevor to get that checked out for months. 

“Oh, god.” Charlie’s breath caught in his throat. “I-I need to tell my car where his dad is.” 

“You... mean your dad where –?” 

“My dad where his c-car is.” 

“Charlie,” Shayne muttered. “I’m sure they’re far more worried about you than the fucking car.” 

Charlie blinked, the movement happening far too slowly. The way Ryan Aldridge would blink. Probably. The thought of his parents worrying about him, unable to contact him, put a surge of panic right into the centre of his chest cavity. The way his mother’s face, her entire being, had collapsed inwards on that night three years ago, when he’d told them what he – 

Charlie jumped. The door next to him had been opened. Switching to autopilot, he slid out of the back seat and promptly forgot how to use his legs. 

Somebody – Shayne? Elliott? Ryan? – grabbed him, to keep him from sagging to the ground. Maybe CT had managed to pull themself together and levitate him. 

CT? he whispered internally, and a cold wave of black swarmed his vision. It seeped into his every thought, his memories of the past few days, flashes of childhood visits to the sea. Bubbles of pressure pushed up against his lungs, inside and out. 

Lights exploded in the darkness. His stomach heaved. 

His mind stretched on and on, and Charlie followed it, until he could feel the demon submerged in that same smothering darkness. They weren’t reaching back towards him. 

Still, Charlie took some semblance of relief in feeling the low, thrumming pressure of them. 

Come back to me, Charlie pleaded. When you’re ready. 

___ 

When he opened his eyes, he was on his back, but not in a pile of pine needles. Not on the concrete driveway in front of the townhouse, either. A white ceiling enclosed the room, where he’d half-expected to see drifting treetops through a purple gloss. 

Charlie savoured it for a few seconds. He had missed being inside. The older he got, the more sure he became that he had been put on this earth to be inside, to be cosy and warm and in soft lighting. 

The lighting here was not soft, though, and Charlie’s eyes protested as he tried to have a look around. 

Some kind of thin, narrow bed was stretched out beneath him, as though he had fallen asleep on an examining table. He could feel that his hoodie and Converse were gone, but his damp, three-day-old jeans and t-shirt still clung to his skin. Nausea rolled over him in cold waves, and he realised he was sweating. Was it always this warm when there was no natural breeze blowing through? 

With the glow of gratitude fading fast, Charlie turned his head. It felt like trying to shove his face through quicksand, but it was worth it. 

A few feet away, a leather chair sat across from the front of a massive, light oak desk. Shayne was standing behind the chair, resting his weight against its back. He was looking down, his eyelids heavy, and was attempting to wrap something around his hand. 

Elliott stood at the other side of the room, by the door, arms crossed, looking off into the middle distance. His aviators hung from the front of his shirt. 

Ryan had shed her parasol and one layer of her white suit. She was organising medical equipment on a plastic trolley. Her wavy white hair had been scraped back into a bulldog clip to keep it from falling into her face. Charlie hadn’t thought it was possible for the woman to look even more severe, but now he missed the softening curls that normally framed her face. 

He didn’t recognise the room, but he assumed it was Ryan office. Shayne had mentioned it to him several times in the past. Aside from books, the only decorations were a couple of deer skulls mounted on stands, and a square wall clock that, Charlie realised as soon as he noticed it, ticked obnoxiously in the quiet. And the walls, the carpet, the bookshelves, almost everything was clean and white. 

Of course it would be, Charlie thought, squinting his eyes to fight off the pulsing headache. 

This was where Shayne had first been medically assessed by Ryan, and where he had finally managed to tell them the truth about Madelyn and his eating issues. It felt a little bit bizarre that Charlie now had his own story to tell about this room. The time they got trapped in the forest and had to be rescued by Elliott. 

Except... They hadn’t been rescued by Elliott, had they? Someone had taken down the wards and allowed them to escape. 

Shayne had never quite explained that one, Charlie realised. Only now did that make Charlie feel a bit uneasy. 

As though he had been thinking the same thing, Shayne’s eyes swiveled anxiously upwards. His gaze softened, though, when he realised that Charlie was awake. He lurched away from the leather chair. 

“Hey, love.” 

“Hey,” Charlie breathed. 

Shayne closed the distance, his wrapped hand gently – messily – pushing Charlie’s hair back from his eyes. Charlie closed his eyes and groaned softly as his forehead was kissed. 

“Are you okay?”  

Before Charlie could respond, Ryan turned towards them. A stethoscope hung from her neck. If she was surprised at Charlie’s departure into consciousness, her face had no intention of showing it. 

“As I have said, Mr. Waters is dehydrated. His body has entered a state of adaptive ketosis. I will continue to monitor his vitals while he rests and is gradually reintroduced to food and fluids.” 

At the mention of food, Charlie felt a strange ripple go through the walls of his stomach. It had to be hunger, and yet there was the slightest tinge of acid in the back of his throat, as though he might be sick as soon as he tried to swallow anything. 

Shayne rolled his eyes, his eyelashes fluttering uneasily. His grip on Charlie’s hand was weak. “Are you okay, love?” he asked again. 

Charlie nodded, though he felt a stuttering echo of that panicked feeling in his chest. Nausea twisted in his stomach, heightened by the white lights. The absence of CT’s voice panged, not just in his head but throughout his body.  

He shifted on his back. 

“Want to sit up?” Shayne asked. 

Charlie nodded again.  

As he moved, he found a drip connected to his arm. His own right hand had also been bandaged, all the way up to the tips of his fingers, where he’d touched the wards and blistered his skin. His movement unsettled a large, white basin that had been lying next to him. Shayne reached out to steady it before it could fall off the – he was literally lying on an examining table.  

Was it normal for Elder vampires to own examining tables? 

A smell suddenly wafted towards Charlie, conjuring up memories of various kitchens throughout his teenage years, all of them different, and yet the hearty aroma of his dad’s chicken casserole was the same in each one. After this, maybe he would study remotely for a few weeks, spend some time with his parents, if they were happy to have him. Maybe ask his dad to teach him his casserole recipe. 

After hearing what Ryan had said about a gradual introduction to food, he had a feeling that what he was smelling now was more likely to be some kind of broth. After almost three days, though, he’d take what he was given. 

“My... my parents.” Stars blinked in and out of his vision as he tried to focus on not letting his head sway back and forth. He mustn’t have done a great job, because Shayne’s bandaged hand came to rest against his cheek, and Charlie inadvertently leaned into it. He rubbed at his eyes, and found tears had gathered there. 

“Miss McDonagh has been tasked with informing Ingrid and Trevor Waters of the situation.” Ryan glanced at her silver watch. The clock face rested on the inside of her wrist. “I should expect she will be speaking with them presently.” 

“Miss McDonagh?” Elliott scoffed. Charlie had almost forgotten he was there. “Odd thing to call your lover, but alright.” 

Ryan ignored him. So did Charlie. He looked at Shayne. “Is that...?” 

“Lucy,” Shayne nodded. 

Charlie exhaled. He didn’t exactly trust this counsellor, who he’d never met, but he trusted Shayne. He swallowed, his throat feeling like grit. 

“Is... she here, at the townhouse?” Shayne was looking at Ryan as she worked. “Does that mean Nancy’s back, too?” 

Ryan pushed the trolley a little closer. The chicken broth smell became stronger. 

“Um.” Shayne reached across himself and held his waist. The gauze on his right hand was already unraveling. “Ryan?” 

“Shayne.” She dismissed him with a calm, fluid shake of her head. “Since you will not allow me to examine you, there is currently no need for you for you to be present.” 

“Wait.” Charlie’s stomach lurched, both at the prospect of being left alone with Ryan, and at what she’d said. He tried to catch Shayne’s eye. “You wouldn’t let her check on you?” 

Shayne scowled. He looked down and rubbed his thumb against Charlie’s wrist, sending tingles across his skin. “I’m fine. You’re the one who collapsed in the driveway. And threw up on your shoes.” 

“I –” Charlie grimaced. He couldn’t remember throwing up, but with the way his tummy had felt after the flat Coke, and the way he felt now, it definitely sounded like something that could have happened. That would explain the basin, too. 

It also spoke volumes that he didn’t even worry about his Converse being ruined. 

“I want to stay with Charlie. I can be useful –” 

“Elliott?” Nothing shifted in Ryan’s expression, and yet Shayne sucked in a breath as though he were being told off. “Would you terribly mind relieving me of this one?” 

As he peeled himself away from the far wall, Elliott looked just as surprised to be summoned as Shayne looked betrayed.  

Ryan picked up a deep, heavy mug from the trolley. Her fingers splayed delicately as she turned to pass it to Elliott. Charlie watched it go and felt his heart drop; rationally, he knew there would be more, and he would never take food away from Shayne, but Charlie’s stomach was starting to cramp up impatiently. It felt less like hunger and more like a burning anxiety over being so empty for so long. 

Ryan took a few more things from the trolley and thrust them towards Elliott. He wrapped a fist around the mug handle, but still managed to make it look precarious. He tucked everything else under his armpit so he could plant a hand on Shayne’s shoulder. 

“Come on.” 

“Really?” Shayne snarled at him. 

“Really.” Elliott directed him towards the door. “Charlie’s in good hands, and those hands will be even better if you’re not in here being a nuisance.” 

“See you later, lovely,” Charlie half-smiled. He hated feeling so helpless to do anything else about the worried look on Shayne’s face. He didn’t realise how pathetic he must have looked, keeping his eyes trained on Shayne’s back, until Elliott had finished herding him out of the room, until the door clicked shut behind them. 

And then, for the first time in his life, he was alone with a vampire. 

“Are you in any pain?” 

Charlie jumped. “I-I’m sorry, what?” 

“Are you in any pain?”  

Was it his imagination, or had she spoken more slowly when she’d repeated herself? Was she being sarcastic? Pointing out that he was a lowly, pathetic human, while she was an all-knowing Elder vampire? Was this a power play? 

“Mr. Waters?” 

Charlie flinched again, his heart stuttering. 

“I apologise for instructing Shayne to leave. I realise how that might be... uncomfortable for you.” 

Guilt seeped into Charlie’s gut. Was it that obvious? 

“In your condition, it is best for both of you to be in calm, quiet environments.” 

“Right. He needs to rest, too,” he said quietly. That was what she was getting at, right? That she was focused on tending to Charlie, but that she also cared for Shayne? She had protected him from Madelyn for this long, after all, and while Shayne was still a walking sack of issues, his mental and physical health had both improved a lot since living with her. 

That’s what you would tell me, isn’t it, CT? You’d be telling me to get over my stupid hang-ups and do what’s best in the moment? 

“Are you in any pain, Mr. Waters?” 

Charlie took a deep breath and nodded. “My hand. My stomach. My head, the... the lights are hurting my eyes.” 

“My apologies again.” Ryan walked stiffly to the door and twisted a dimmer switch. The lights softened all at once, and although his head still ached, the buzzing pressure in Charlie’s eyes eased. He didn’t have to squint anymore. 

“Thank you.” 

She crossed the room again, dipping behind her large desk. As he watched her, Charlie now realised that she had a fridge in the back corner. The door was clear glass, and inside, what looked like tiny bottles of wine sat on a wire shelf. 

Charlie felt his stomach gurgle as he realised that those probably weren’t tiny bottles of wine. He looked away as Ryan reach inside, towards a lower shelf that was blocked from his view anyway. 

“I would like to take your blood pressure now that you are awake.” 

Charlie nodded stiffly, gaze glued to the floor. He glanced to the side, holding perfectly still, as Ryan wheeled over a blood pressure monitor – seriously, who had a blood pressure monitor ready to go at a moment’s notice? – and strapped the reader around his upper arm. He tried to control his breathing as the machine tightened. Would his anxiety mess up the results of this? 

Ryan was suddenly standing directly in front of him, staring down her nose. There was an uncapped bottle of water in her hand. 

“Oh...” Charlie stammered and took the bottle. The condensation immediately started to seep into his bandage, so he passed it into his left hand. “Thank you.” 

“Do not drink too quickly. Your digestive tract will not be capable of processing it yet.” 

Charlie nodded, trying not to think of that quarter-bottle of Coke and how it was now splattered across the Aldridges’ driveway along with his stomach acid. He lifted the bottle to his mouth and swished it lightly. He barely let his lips get wet, despite the clawing dryness in his throat. 

Ryan moved back to his side and unstrapped the blood pressure monitor. Charlie squeezed in a couple more miniscule sips of water, but found himself taking a little more each time. Ryan didn’t share the readings with him. Good. Too much bodily data could make Charlie feel squeamish, and between the hunger-nausea and the chilled cabinet full of what he could only assume was actual human blood, he didn’t need anything else stirring up his stomach. His water was only just starting to settle in, and it would be a shame to lose it all again. 

Ryan unhooked the stethoscope from around her neck. “Please lift your shirt at the back.” 

Charlie fumbled it a bit, with his gauzed hand and his water bottle, but was grateful that Ryan didn’t try to lift it herself. He winced as she pressed the metal chest piece to the centre of his back. 

“Breathe in.” 

Charlie did. He fought the urge to let the breath stutter back out prematurely as water and bile clogged his throat. 

“And out.” 

She asked him to do this several times before moving the stethoscope to his chest. The thought of her listening to the pumping of his heart made Charlie tremble. Was she picturing sucking the blood from his veins like straws? Would she tell him she needed a blood sample for medical reasons, stick him with a needle, and drain him dry before he even realised what was happening? 

Grrrrrroar. 

Charlie’s eyes widened, his hand clenching around his water bottle. By the sounds of it, his stomach was only just becoming aware of its newly-acquired contents. His eyes flicked towards Ryan’s face as she continued listening to his heart. If he had heard his own tummy rumbling, then she had heard it with her vampiric hearing and had most definitely heard it through the stethoscope. Her face didn’t give her away. She hadn’t even flinched, despite how horrifically loud it must have been. She continued listening to his heartbeat, and then swiftly turned, removing her earpieces, to write down the result. 

Something in Charlie’s chest suddenly unclenched. This whole time, he’d thought of Ryan as nothing but a vampire, whereas he should have been thinking of her as a... Well, maybe not a doctor, as he wasn’t sure she had any actual qualifications, but certainly a caregiver.  

She removed the chest piece and stood off to the side again. Charlie allowed himself a couple more sips of water, laying a hand on his stomach to ward off any uneasiness. He could feel his belly churning, but no cramping, which had to be a good sign. 

“You may cover yourself, Mr. Waters.” 

“Charlie,” Charlie said softly. He tugged his t-shirt back into place. 

“Next, I will give you a cup of light broth. It is important that you do not consume it too hastily, or –” 

“I-I know. It could make me sick.” 

Ryan gave a curt nod as she turned towards her trolley. Charlie flushed a little at himself for interrupting, but he was a teacher’s pet at heart and knew deep down he’d never let go of that need to seem like he was paying attention, participating, understanding the assignment.  

He was also dying to get his hands on something warm and nourishing. His mouth, now that he had the barest amount of fluids in his body, watered as he watched Ryan pick up a mug of broth. 

“Is there anything else in particular that is concerning you?” She paused as she handed him the mug, easing the bottle of water from his hand so he could hold it steady. She capped the bottle and turned to leave it on the trolley. 

It took Charlie a minute to answer her question. Maybe two or three. He gently sipped on the broth, and even though he knew he had to take his time, he struggled to keep himself from drinking it any faster. He wondered if he could feel the broth literally warming his insides as it slipped down his throat, or if the relief of finally feeling safe was only just setting into his body. 

He tentatively felt for CT, but still felt no energy coming back from them. 

Charlie lowered the mug to his lap. The light flavour of the broth stuck to his tongue and he fought to swallow it down as tears pricked his eyes. 

“I can’t talk to Charlie Too.”  

Ryan had busied herself with tidying up her equipment as he’d been drinking. She was standing behind her desk, sliding a beige folder onto a shelf filled with other, disturbingly similar, beige folders. 

“That’s what we call the demon that I –” 

“I am aware.” Ryan smoothly turned her head. “Perhaps this is the reason for Shayne’s questions regarding Nancy’s time of arrival. She has limited knowledge on the topic of demons, but regardless is the greatest source of knowledge at our disposal.” 

“Oh.” Charlie’s heart fluttered. “Maybe. I-I assumed he wanted to ask her if she knew anything about the trap.” 

It may have been Charlie’s imagination, but Ryan’s chin seemed to lower slightly, her eyes sharpening. He almost choked on nothing as fear spiked in his gut. 

“Not – not that we thought she set it,” Charlie sputtered. “Just –” 

There was a sharp knock at the door. Without waiting for a response, someone hurried into the room. 

She was pale and a little curvy, with cotton-candy pink hair tied in two low, messy pigtails. Her shoulders were hunched, and she kept a hold of the door handle. Her other hand hovered over her chin as she cast her eyes about the room. 

“H-hi, Ryan, I...” She grimaced as she caught Charlie’s eye. “Hi. Charlie?” 

Charlie nodded. “Lucy?” 

Her grimace widened. “Hi. So, your mother and father are fine. I explained the situation, and they’re coming to get you tomorrow. I assured them that you’re in great hands.” 

Charlie swallowed over the urge to belch, trying not to let his anxiety show on his face. Tomorrow felt too far away. Separated from Shayne and frozen out by CT, all he wanted was to see his parents’ faces. “Thank you.” 

“I would also like to schedule a meeting between the two of you,” Ryan cut in. She folded her arms. Her gaze swiveled from Lucy to Charlie. “A debriefing following your ordeal. Tomorrow morning, once you have had some rest.” 

Charlie tried to nod, to be a good student and show that he understood the value of Ryan’s suggestion. He flinched as another bubble of pressure rose up through his chest, muffling the burp with the back of his hand. 

“T-tomorrow morning, you said, Ryan?” Lucy said slowly. She took a step back, still clutching the door handle. 

“We will finalise the details later.” 

“Okay. Well, it’s – uh, been nice to meet you, Charlie. I’ll – I’ll just...” Lucy pointed with her thumb before backing out of the room, pulling the door shut with her. 

Alarm grew in Charlie’s mind; he hadn’t expected a qualified counsellor to slink about, acting like an embarrassed teenager. Charlie very much hoped she hadn’t been like this when she’d been on the phone with his parents. 

Doesn’t really matter, he thought to himself as he took a sip from his mug. And to CT, he thought, Everything’s going to be okay. 

He had to believe hard enough for both of them now.

[disinfernus]

Star light, Star bright

TIMING: early november. LOCATION: wormwoods, between wormrow and downtown. PARTIES: @ariadnewhitlock & @disinfernus SUMMARY: dis steals from a corpse (i'm not dead yet!) and araidne stumbles upon them. she's rightfully concerned! CONTENT: none!

Dīs was never quite sure of what they might come across during an evening walk. It was always quite the mystery, but that made the usually quiet leisurely exercise exciting. There was the prospect of walking away with a treasure, after all, and that thought alone was enough to keep the night strolls to an almost daily schedule. 

That night had been a little different. The pendant that came to be in their possession came from a corpse that was not quite dead yet. A surprise, considering how still they lay amidst the clovers. The clearing sat fairly close to public view and up along the forest edge. The grass was trodden; people definitely used this trail. How did the body get here? What caused this? And why were they still alive? Ah well, it made no difference to them. The body was a waste but their golden valuable held tenderly against breastbone would have to do. 

The blood was — the blood was a lot. Whatever did it likely couldn’t be too far, so Dīs started to turn on heel, to leave the dying man and clean up their new treasure — and their clothes. The human’s red was hidden within the darkness of their top, but there was plenty on their hands to make them look guilty.

She should have been in bed with Wynne, but Ariadne also knew that she had to probably let them have some kind of space. It was only reasonable for the both of them. Wasn’t it? 

Shaking any doubts from her mind, she made her way around the edge of the forest, breathing in the cool night air, trying to ground herself. Or something. What she hadn’t expected was to look up and see with her (unfortunately) perfect vision. Which did mean, though, that she saw someone with red on their hands.

For a moment, Ariadne wondered if red gloves were suddenly in fashion (she wasn’t sure who she was supposed to ask to confirm this), except that the red seemed far too scattered and far too wet for it to be gloves. Which meant it was blood, wasn’t it? She recoiled for a moment, but she couldn’t just run away, could she? Cass was a hero, and so maybe she could help save somebody, somehow.

“Uh, hey.” She tried to make herself taller, fighting the urge to shrink into herself. “What are you up to out here, so late, uh, yeah?”

They saw the young woman before they heard her speak. Their hands busied themselves within the folds of their coat, hoping to rid themself of the evidence. It was dark out — very dark out, except for the light of the moon. Silhouettes dared to disappear completely within pockets of shadow.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Dīs returned casually and tried to keep their voice light without any hint of defensiveness. They weren’t sure of how successful they were; the question itself raised a red flag, of course. Who else but the guilty turned the question back like that?

A brief silence fell after their query, but they hurried to fill it quickly with a secondary answer, one to hopefully placate any potential suspicions. Not that she should be suspicious, of course — the man was already dying when they got there. “I’m on a walk… I don’t sleep very well. I’m assuming that is why you’re out here as well?” 

“That’s true – you could ask me that! You probably should!” Because she was a monster, but at the same time, Ariadne very much did not want this man to ask her what she was doing or what she was, as a matter of fact, at all. “I – please – um, don’t?” Which probably wasn’t the best thing to say, if she wanted to throw off suspicion.

“Yes. That is why!” She wasn’t sure if she’d ever come off this enthusiastic in her talking, but maybe, right now, she had to. Had to do something to show that she wasn’t actually some terrifying freakish monster. Or that it made sense for someone who still looked like a teenager (and, Ariadne supposed, technically was – being nineteen-almost-twenty when she died and all) to be wandering around at night. “Awful bout of chronic insomnia.” She shrugged. “But I – your hands? Are you okay?”

Dīs furrowed their brows down. Now it was their turn to feel suspicion. Could they turn this around and get out without much issue? Doubtful. There would have to be some tricky word play and the right beats to hit for them to avoid lingering in her memories. The shadows could take them easily, but there was something else there beneath the catching light of the moon that gave them pause. Flashes of red, vivid like rubies, broke through the inky black darkness.

Curious. “Insomnia seems to be a popular blight in Wicked’s Rest.” Not for them, of course — being nocturnal had its perks. “It’s a bit.. Late, though, don’t you think? To be out by yourself. Most wouldn’t dare it.” Most were humans too fearful of the terrors that hid behind the treeline and in the caves. The ones that did dare tended to be those same terrors. Dīs curled their hands in, fingers having rubbed against each other with discomfort. They kept their arms to their sides now, bathed in shadow. She already caught sight of the blood, but maybe if they kept them out of the limelight, they’d fade away into obscurity. 

“I’m.. I’m going home now, to wash this off. I don’t have a cloth with me.” Keep it obscure, keep it vague. “I’ll be alright, though.” Their shadow, a beautiful thing, stretched itself eagerly and slipped, blanket-like over the now lifeless corpse. The dark would hide it well if she didn’t look hard enough, but those eyes — if she was what they assumed, the darkness would be pointless.

“Yes, I’m not some sort of scientist or doctor or anything but there does seem to be a lot of that here.” Ariadne wondered if she could be considered an insomniac, now, given that she didn’t physically have to sleep. It seemed as though it was something that deserved a category of its own.

It was late, and Ariadne faked a yawn, hoping maybe they hadn’t seen her eyes. “It is late, you’re right, but it’s also beautiful, so I suppose I just got caught up in that?” At least she was trying to find a new perspective on the beauty of the night, because it wasn’t exactly something that came so easily, now. It used to be easy to adore everything the night had to offer, and she still loved the stars and the way the air felt, but being so much a part of the night wasn’t something that sat too easily with her.

“You can borrow uh, a handkerchief.” If she had one. Which she hoped she did. “Are you sure you’ll be alright?” Ariadne looked up at him with wide eyes, forgoing the hope that they hadn’t seen her eyes. If they hadn't commented yet, then maybe it was alright?

Insomnia didn’t come to those that were dead, at least that was what they assumed the young woman was — dead. Or rather, undead. They weren’t well versed in what species hid in the cornucopia that was Wicked’s Rest, but they knew of one other who’s eyes behaved the same. Assumptions, though, could be disastrous — and at worst, deadly. She didn’t seem the type to kill, though again, a downed guard could spell tragedy for the nymph.

“Perhaps that’s the reason for so many who lack sleep: they can’t bear to look away?” They questioned, rhetorical in nature, but it did have its merit — the city was a strange one, filled with magic and decay. It wouldn’t be too much of a stretch if it lured people in that way, with its inescapable beauty. “You should go home, though. The night is as beautiful as it is dangerous.” It wasn’t just what lurked within the shadows that could cause harm — it was the shadows themselves.

The offer was kind, but would it help to get them out of there sooner rather than later? A gamble. That’s all this interaction was. “Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to mess anything of yours up. Yes, yes… I’ll be fine.” Their questioning on whether or not the girl was dead or not should have been geared towards the body that lay behind them, hidden in the dark, but not quite dead yet. A pained, but low sounding, moan escaped the confines of the shadow, giving attention to something that wasn’t supposed to be there.

“That’s – very possible, yes, I agree.” Ariadne pulled her arms around her body. “The night is beautiful, and I always used to go stargazing with my parents, so…” Their question hadn’t needed any sort of answer, but she’d answered anyway, in part because she was worried about seeming rude. Yes, even to a stranger that she’d run into in the middle of the woods. Which might’ve not been the best idea, but said stranger was being relatively accepting of her strange behavior, so she’d happily take that energy and run with it. She liked making people feel safe, and had a distinct lack of ability to do that as often now as she’d used to.

“You should go too. I don’t want you to get into danger, either.” They seemed nice, even if there was the whole unexplained blood on their hands. Also yes – it’s fine, I can always wash it, or find something else to do with it.” Ariadne did her best to not hop around too anxiously. Then there was a moaning from somewhere, and her immediate response was, “I didn’t do that!” Because of course she was a monster, and she was capable of horrible things, but this hadn’t been her. “I – did you hear that, I mean?”

Dīs couldn’t help the feeling that she was deliberately following close behind, conversationally speaking, but she didn’t seem to pose as much of a threat - if at all - so they didn’t really mind. She seemed more nervous than they did, truthfully. “Do you still stargaze on your own?” They heard themself ask as they started to close the gap between them, their intent to lead them away from the death that lingered.

“Then come, no sense in persisting here any longer.” No, Dīs didn’t want to leave yet, not with the body still exposed. Once they were a certain distance away, the shadows would recede, making their crime visible to all that passed by. They’d have to circle back after she was gone to take care of the corpse, but they weren’t sure how long that would be. Would the body still be there afterward? The lampade gave pause in their efforts in cleaning the blood off their hands once she was certain it was alright for them to do so.

Dīs pursed their lips. They had already stepped ahead of the young woman, maybe a step or two. The idea of her being in closer proximity to the body made them feel uneasy. “Hear what?” It wasn’t a “no”, so the hurt was avoided for now, but it meant further investigation on either her part or theirs. “What do you mean, you didn’t do it?” They asked instead, hoping the change in topic would pull her attention away. 

“Sometimes I do, yeah!” Maybe the added nod was a bit too enthusiastic, but it was genuine, and Ariadne figured that that was what mattered, right? She told herself the answer to that was yes, if only to further comfort herself. “It’s nice to be reminded of what makes the night so beautiful.” She needed more reminders now that she was part of the night, and a very bad part of the night at that. 

She nodded to their remark. “Coming, yeah.” Ariadne began to walk alongside them, though they were tall (even compared to her – not that she was tall tall, just tall-ish tall), and she thought that she had to make a certain effort to keep up with them, but that wasn’t so bad at all. It was almost nice, even if she did feel a certain sense of nerves, all bundled up and confusing. Her perfect night-vision cut through the dark of the forest, though she was far more interested in the person next to her than whatever else was going on.

It was a certain thrill, to not be absolutely terrified. Not that Ariadne wasn’t scared at all, but to, at least in this one (possibly brief) moment, be able to look around a dark forest in awe was pretty incredible. “I – nothing. I don’t know, I thought I heard something.” She straightened up, fully intent on playing the part of not scared at all, even if that brief moment had been just that – brief. Far too ephemeral. “I didn’t make the noise is what I mean. There’s nothing else for me to not have done. I don’t think. Right?” She looked up at them.

Ever since they’d been ejected from the safety of their catacombs, they found the distant twinkling of the white and gold stars to be comforting. They liked the way they looked to be permanently pressed into the velvet sky. Some would shoot across, of course, but the constant ones were nice to look at. They were grounding, in a way.

“No,” Dīs returned, almost a little too defensively at first, “you can not see the stars during the day, can you? Not without one of those… telescopes.” The lampade gave a sweeping glance across the dark, navy black curtain that hung over the earth. “The stars don’t make the night beautiful. The night makes them beautiful.” They softened their tone, but they weren’t about to let space rocks and gas take the credit for their own splendor.

She thought she heard something; that wasn’t exactly comforting, but the forest was also full of creatures and flora that could have potentially made that sound. They couldn’t risk her wanting to head back, in case her curiosity overwrote her fear, unless she was actually really cool with murder. “No, you’re fine,” Dīs placated, or at least tried to. “The woods are alive, it would be foolish to think we are alone.” Other than the very real human body that rested some feet from them, there were plenty else to keep them company.

“Do you live far from here?”

“You can’t.” She responded immediately, not even having to think about any of it for a moment. Because she’d used to beg her parents to let her see stars at all times, and they’d explained how even though they existed during the day, the sun was the only one you could properly see at that time. Which had disappointed Ariadne, but only given her more of an appreciation for what she could see at night. 

Now, though, the stars were not nearly as comforting as they’d been in her childhood, no matter how much Ariadne did still have an immense fondness for them. She’d made every active effort she could to ensure that she did still find comfort in them. She was part of the night now, and it made sense in some sort of desperately confusing way, that she’d be even more connected to the stars now than she ever was before. “Ah, well, I guess that kind of makes sense.” She shrugged. “I think the two of them magnify each one’s beauty, maybe? But like obviously to each their own, I’m not disagreeing with you at all though!! Just so we’re like, super duper clear.” She didn’t want to make them annoyed or frustrated or anything even remotely close to any of that.

“Ha! So true.” Ariadne winced at how fake her own voice sounded, but there was no use in backtracking now. “I suppose that’s both alarming and a comfort, to know you can go into the woods and never really be alone. There’s some musical song about that.” She shook her head. “That’s not important. I – yeah, well ish. I live in an apartment Downtown with my cousin.” She paused. “How about you?”

They knew that, but stating so would be like beating a dead horse and they wanted to get her away from the murderous evidence as quickly as possible. They figured keeping their mouth shut was the best way to do that. Her need to placate wasn’t lost on Dīs, but they couldn’t be sure if it was because of the situation or if that was just her. They would store that information for later, just in case. 

A hum escaped them in response to her; of course they didn't agree with her, but they did have their own fixed sockets in their head that emitted the most radiant light. It would be hypocritical of them not to acknowledge their own light source. Two stars lost in a pool of black ink. They had to wonder if their light was stronger than that of celestial bodies. 

“It’s an opinion.. You’re allowed to have it. Even if I don’t share it.”

Dīs offered her a nod. “It is the way it has been and the way it always will be.” Cryptic, but one would be hard pressed not to find a pair of eyes fixed on you in the woods. There were all manner of beasts that called it home, some more deadly than the others. “Wormrow,” the truth, but not the entirety of it. “So, I suppose that means we are on opposite sides of this wood. It’s fine.” They waved off as they continued onward. “I will walk you there, if you’d like. Or to the street - or to any sign of civilization. I know the Whye River has a better view of the stars than these trees do.”

At least they seemed receptive to her back-and-forth behavior – whatever it could really be called. The two of them were talking about stars and Ariadne was, on top of all that, doing her absolute best to think about all the good things about nighttime, rather than the very many scary and otherwise alarming things. Which she was part of. But she wasn’t going to feed on the other person right by her, she wasn’t even hungry (though the growl of her stomach said otherwise), and soon they’d both be on their ways. 

Whatever sound she’d heard must have not been anything important, or even anything at all.

“Oh, you don’t have to share it! That’s fine! Everyone sees things differently and thinks about things differently and I wouldn’t wanna make somebody feel like they had to think the same way that I do.” Which was likely far too much to say, but Ariadne had already said it, and so that was that.

She knew Wormrow from Wynne, and she hoped that this person was also staying safe, because she also knew Wormrow from growing up in town and how it wasn’t always so safe. “I think I’d like that.” Especially because they didn’t seemed bothered by the red glow of her eyes, and they probably-maybe knew this forest better than she did, at least at the moment. “Lead the way.”

“I didn’t think that was your intention,” they returned with assurance. They didn’t think she had any, really, other than to enjoy the evening out when it was them that she ran into. She wasn’t the one with blood on her hands. They did think she was wrong, though. “It’s… Nice to know, though.” Not everyone they knew subscribed to her way of thinking; they’d endured them for too long. Dīs was glad their walking partner was better than that.

The lampade nodded, grateful she was keen to leave the woods instead of linger. Not many people would be that trusting with someone they had just met, especially where there were more feral things than conscious beings. Her eyes told them she could probably hold her own, though, that she was more than the fragile nature of humans. “Just this way, then,” Dīs directed. They carried themself slowly to keep with the young woman, happy to point out and talk about the stars that littered the clear, dark sky. 

Even though they needed to head in the other direction, they figured the forest could have the body left there. A thanks, in a way, for letting them out with nothing but chit chat and cool air.

[slasherhaven]

howdy!¡,,, i love your writing👉👈. are u taking requests? if so could i request a (oddly specific) future s/o that is spared bc when they were unconscious and Luda was singing she called her mama so Luda decided to keep her bc "I've always wanted a girl" and so she finds herself having to interact and introduce herself to Thomas? If not that's okay dw!

Thomas Hewitt X Female Reader

I’ve Always Wanted a Girl

Word count: 2682

Luda May dabbed a cloth against the cut on your forehead, wiping away the blood. You had a pretty nasty fall, hitting your head and knocking yourself unconscious. 

Instead of having Thomas take you straight down to the basement, she asked him to lay you on the couch. You just looked so peaceful in your sleep, so she thought that she could at least take care of you a little while Thomas prepped the basement.

Luda May knew that you couldn’t actually be left alone, in case you woke up and escaped. So, she went about her business, cleaning up the living room. All while humming and singing softly to herself.

Your hearing rang in your ears as your consciousness slowly returned to you, eyes blinking open but vision blurred. You slowly started to process the sound of somebody singing, a blurred figure moving around the room. The song sounded familiar...something your mother used to sing to you as a child.

“Mama?...” you weren’t even aware that you spoke, but the older woman heard you instantly.

Your voice halted Luda May in her tracks, making her turn to you. A small smile formed on her face, well isn’t that sweet?

She walked over to where you lay and sat down beside you. “You’re alright now, Dear” she cooed to you, brushing your hair out of your face. The touch and shushing was comforting in your dizzy state, and it lulled you back to sleep.

Luda May looked up when she heard Thomas enter the room, probably to take you down to the basement. “Leave her be, Tommy” she smiled, earning her a confused head tilt from the large man. “I’ve always wanted a daughter” she confessed, making her intentions known.

Thomas just nodded, accepting her decision. He didn’t mind so much as long as you didn’t harm anyone, but he was sure that Hoyt wouldn’t approve. Though...Luda May would certainly get her way.

“Thomas, be a good boy and take her up to the spare room, will you?” she asked.

Thomas nodded, walking over to you and Luda May stood up. He carefully slipped an arm under your shoulders and another under your knees, lifting you off of the couch and holding you against his chest. He could see what Luda May saw in you, you looked so sweet and peaceful, he just wondered what had happened to make her change her mind so quickly.

Luda May just smoothed a hand over your hair again before letting him carry you up to the small unused bedroom.

Laying you down on the bed, Thomas cautiously pushed some hair out of our face, examining you before pulling his hand away. You were beautiful, even in your state of disarray after everything you had been through that day. There were still the stains of dried tears on your cheeks, but still you looked unrealistically pretty. You were the prettiest, sweetest looking thing in this house, you wouldn’t be a bad addition to the household. At least that’s how Thomas felt while looking at you, before quickly turning on his heel and leaving the room before he caught himself staring too long. 

And that’s the short version of how you became the newest Hewitt. The family was obviously still cautious of you, watching your every move, but they made it clear that you were one of them now. Maybe you just had no backbone or maybe you were a realist, but you accepted your fate with some time and tried to adapt to it. 

Luda May had insisted on you referring to her as “Mama”, and you did to keep the peace, Monty bossed you about most of the time, and you avoided Hoyt as much as you could since he seemed to be the least happy about your presence. Luda May had seemed to take on a motherly role with you, speaking to you as if you were her daughter, asking you to join her with chores and cooking. It had become a little routine for you now.

Then there was Thomas. Luda May had introduced you to him, he had nodded and shook your hand when prompted too. His hand completely engulfed your own, but his hold was surprisingly gentle despite the strength you could feel he possessed. 

He didn’t talk much...ever, actually, and he seemed to avoid you a lot. If you didn’t need to be in the room together, he wouldn’t be there, hiding away somewhere else in the house. Though, when you were in the same room, you could sometimes feel him staring at you. You were sure he didn’t notice it, otherwise he would have surely been more subtle about it. Whenever you looked over and caught him staring, he would stare at the floor or his hands in shame.

Truth be told, you weren’t sure what to make of the large man. He was intimidating and had a threatening stature but he never gave you true reason to fear him. He was quiet and gentle whenever he had to interact with you, he was downright timid, and he seemed to have the same avoidance you had with Hoyt. 

You could tell that he was closer to Luda May, his mother. She had told you the full story of how she became Thomas’ mother, having found him cold and alone as an infant. Thomas hadn’t looked at you while she told the story, like he didn’t want to see your pity.

“Oh Thomas!” you heard Luda May��s concerned voice coming from the entrance of the home, “what have you done?” 

With a small frown, you wandered out of the kitchen to see Luda May fussing over Thomas. He was holding a dirty, blood soaked rag against the palm of his hand. He just shook his head, silently assuring her that he was fine.

“If you’re not going to take care of it, I will. Go to your room, I’ll be up in a moment” spoke like a true mother, you smiled a little bit to yourself. As much as you hated to admit it to yourself, you were an honorary member of this family.

Thomas huffed, making you smile again, before nodding and marching up the stairs.

Luda May muttered to herself, shaking her head as she turned to you. “Oh, Y/n, dear. Come with me” she encouraged, passing you as she walked into the kitchen. You followed behind obediently.

“Thomas has cut open his palm. Probably on one of those cars, they’re death-traps” she told you as she started digging through one of the kitchen cabinets. You decided against pointing out the irony.

“Now I have to convince Hoyt to finish the job” she huffed before turning to you with a box in her hands. “Do you mind taking car of Tommy for me?” she asked, presenting the box, presumably a first aid kit of sorts, to you.

“Oh, I don’t think I know how too” you shook your head, eyes widening slightly.

“You clean the wound, clean it with some alcohol to prevent infection, and wrap it with some bandages” she told you simply.

“What if it needs stitches?” you asked, still not taking the box.

“I taught you to sew, didn’t I?” she asked and you nodded, eyes wide at that being the only qualification you apparently needed. “Thomas will help you with the rest” she assured you before thrusting the box into your hands.

You gripped the box nervously before Luda May left the room. Wandering out of the kitchen, you came to the bottom of the staircase. Walking up the stairs was daunting, you had barely spent any time alone with Thomas, and this was definitely be the longest amount of time you spent directly interacting with him.

Finally, you were standing outside of Thomas’ bedroom. You decided to knock, not wanting to be impolite. You heard movement on the other side of the door before it was pulled open, you had to tilt your head back slightly to look up at Thomas’ face.

His eyes were widened slightly, clearly surprised to see you. “Luda May sent me to look at your hand” you explained, glancing down at his still bleeding hand. Even though Luda May insisted on you referring to her as ‘mama’, you only did so when she was around.

Thomas seemed hesitant but eventually nodded and stepped to the side, allowing you to enter his room. You heard the door close behind you as you quickly glanced around. The room was a little bigger than yours but you wondered if Thomas comfortably lay on the single bed in the room, he seemed a little too big for it even though an average sized man would probably be comfortable in it. It was tidier than you expected it to be, no clothes left out or anything.

You turned back to the man when you hears his footsteps behind you, he was still a few feet away from you.

“Uh...should we sit down?” you asked when he didn’t make any move. 

Thomas nodded before crossing the room to his bed, sitting down on the edge. You walked over and sat down beside him, leaving enough room to place the first aid box on the bed between you both.

“Let me see your hand” you ordered gently. 

Thomas unwrapped the dirty rag from his hand and held it out to you. Carefully, you took hold of his hand in both of yours, turning it slightly to examine the wound. Thomas just watched, noticing how big his hands were compared to yours. He had noticed it when he shook your hand all that time ago but this made it even more oblivious, how you used both of your hands to move and turn it as you pleased. It was cute but the tenderness of your actions was what tugged at his heart the most.

“We should clean away the blood first. I can barely see it” you mumbled, more to yourself than to him. “I’ll go get some water” you suddenly dropped his hand and stood from the bed, with a nervous clumsiness.

You barely looked at him before leaving the room. Thomas shook his head at himself. You were so nervous, even to just be in a room with him. He wished he knew what you were thinking but he was sure that you were afraid of him, probably thinking he would hurt you. He couldn’t blame you. Why wouldn’t you think that? What else could make you so nervous about being near him?

His thought were interrupted by the sound of the door opening and closing, making him look up to see you walking back towards him with a bowl of water and a new cloth.

You sat back on the bed, placing the bowl on top of the box that sat between you both. 

“Hand” you spoke gently, holding your own out. He placed the back of his hand in your palm, growing unsure when he saw you frown. 

You hummed before pushing his hand back again. He was about to insist that he take care of his own wound, it wouldn’t be the first time, but then you pushed the box and the bowl further back onto the bed. He was surprised when you moved to sit closer to him, turning your body to face him and bringing one knee up onto the mattress.

You took hold of his hand again, gently placing it in your lap. He was definitely surprised by your actions but allowed it.

You worked in silence, wetting the cloth and cleaning away the blood from his hand. Thomas watched how intently you worked and how gentle you were being with him, like you were purposely trying not to hurt him.

Once the blood was cleaned up, you placed the bowl and bloody cloth down on the floor and opened the first aid kit. Inside the box was a small bottle of alcohol, a tube of some sort of cream, a fresh cloth, bandages, and the items you would need to apply stitches.

You picked up the bottle of alcohol and the fresh cloth. “This will probably sting” you warned him, looking up at him with genuine concern in your eyes. He just nodded. 

You poured some alcohol onto the cloth before pressing it to his injured hand. He didn’t make a sound of pain or pull away but you did feel him tense even more than he already was. “Sorry” you murmured, making sure to coat the hold wound.

Once you were done with that, you placed the now dirty cloth in the water bowl with the other and closed the bottle before placing it back in the box. 

You looked back at the hand, squinting at it slightly. You weren’t an expert at tending to wounds, you didn’t really know how deep the wound was or if it called for more than bandages.

“...do you think it needs stitches?” you asked, looking up at him again. Looking a little lost at what to do.

Thomas examined his own hand before shaking his head, smiling a little to himself as you let out a sigh of relief. 

You reached back into the box, picking up the tube and smiling as you read the label. “Here, let me put some of this one it” you offered. 

He just nodded, placing his hand back in your lap, allowing you to apply the antibacterial cream to his wound. He needed all the protection he can get with his work conditions.

You continued in silence as you finished and wrapped the bandages around his hand, securing them before packing everything back into the box.

“How does that feel? Too tight?” you asked and he shook his head, assuring you that it was fine. “Don’t forget to change them, alright?” you advised, “oh, and keep it clean.”

Again, he just nodded.

“...did you do this on one of the cars?” he nodded again. “Does that happen a lot?” he nodded again, confused about your questioning.

You just frowned, but you weren’t surprised. You had noticed a lot of little scars on his hands as you worked and the house wasn’t exactly hazard free. “Well, you should be more careful” you put a small smile on your face as you met his gaze again.

“I should go and finish cleaning the kitchen...if you need something, let me know, okay?” your offer seemed sincere enough, so he nodded. You were used to his silence.

You stood and collected the items you had brought in with you, heading for the door. When Thomas realised that your hands were full, he shot from the bed, hurrying over to open the door for you. 

“Thank you” you smiled before leaving the room. “Tommy” his name made him stop closing the door, pulling it fully open again to look at you. You stood in the hallway now, items piled in your hands, a timid look on your face. “We should hang out more, I feel like you keep hiding from me” you let out a shy laugh.

Thomas was stunned. You wanted to spend more time with him? He nodded before he even realised he had. But he was glad he did because it seemed to put a smile on your face before you turned and headed for the stairs. 

As he watched you disappear down the stairs Thomas became aware of a realisation that filled him with shame and dread. There was no way you would be so kind to him, even be in the same room as him, if you knew the way he thought of you, how he felt about you.

It’s why he had avoided you for so long, admired you from a distance. He didn’t want to scare you and he was nervous around you. Ever since the day he carried you up to the spare room, he had been infatuated with you. He had been enraptured by your beauty, and then in awe of your kindness considering your circumstances.

He loved you...

[spacexcowgirl]

Hate To Think About You With Somebody Else - F.W.

Fred Weasley x Reader

Summary: Fred and Y/N used to be friends with benefits, but that arrangement ended in heartbreak. Can Fred handle seeing her out with somebody else?

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: 18+ NSFW. MINORS DNI. Mentions of alcohol, mentions of blood, small bit of violence/fight scene (the reader and Fred are not injured), possessive talk, fingering, degradation, bondage, orgasm denial, unprotected sex, a bit angsty with a happy ending. Please let me know if I’ve forgotten anything!

A/N: For @theweasleytwinsgirl​ who asked for the reader teasing Fred, leading to her being tied up! I added a bit of plot to it, because I cannot help it. Obviously, this fic is lightly inspired by “Somebody Else” by The 1975. I am not very confident in my smut writing abilities, so any feedback would be appreciated! I also feel I should thank @lumosandnoxwriting for giving me advice and reassurance throughout writing this. Pictures are from Pinterest.

I have not included all of my general taglist, because I do not know who is 18+ or who wants to be tagged in smut.

Fred, George, Angelina, and Alicia sat leisurely around the twins’ shared living room, laughing and giggling over drinks. The past few weeks had been hell at the shop, so the boys felt they needed a much deserved night to just relax. Previously, Fred would have liked nothing more than to relieve his tension with Y/N, but unfortunately, that was no longer an option. 

“Have you heard about Y/N and Pucey?” Angelina prodded with a giggle, her eyes alit with mischief. 

Fred’s jaw immediately clenched at the sound of her name, his grip on his glass tightening. He most certainly hadn’t heard about her in a few weeks, and he hadn’t expected to have such a visceral reaction at the mere mention of her name. Regaining his composure, he forced himself to relax a bit and quirk a brow, feigning both confusion and interest.

“No? They shagging?” George questioned, sitting forward in his seat.

“Apparently, but I guess it’s becoming a bit more serious than just that.” Angelina shrugged, turning her gaze to Alicia beside her for confirmation. When the second girl nodded, Fred downed another gulp of his drink.

That can’t be right, he thought. It hadn’t even been a month since the last time they had been together, Y/N pinned beneath him as breathy moans escaped her lips. In the dim light of his bedroom, she had whispered to him that her pussy was his, that she was his, and now, apparently, she was with someone else. Some part of him knew that he had no right to be upset, because truthfully, it was his choice to end their little arrangement. But she had left him no choice after breaking their number one rule.

Y/N and Fred had ventured past friendly acquaintanceship about a year before, after a few too many firewhiskys at an infamous Weasley twins’ party. The morning after, they had tiptoed around each other, clearly uncomfortable by the change in dynamic. But it didn’t take long for it to happen again, and again, and again. Before either of them had really realized it, they had become much more than friends but much less than really together, and Fred wanted to keep it that way. He wanted them to remain in that middle ground.

As far as he knew, Y/N was more than fine with where they stood with each other. Until one day, she wasn’t. He remembered clearly how she had bit her lip and gazed at him, only moments after finishing him off with her mouth. He had looked at her curiously, wondering where her usual, joking, post-coital self had gone. 

“Have you ever thought of me as more than, you know, just an easy fuck?”

Her words had shocked him, because they certainly weren’t the turn of phrase he would have used. He didn’t think of her as ‘an easy fuck,’ he thought of her as a friend. Someone he cared deeply for. But as he gazed into her desperate eyes, he was struck with the realization that he didn’t care for her the way she hoped. He had swallowed deeply, preparing his words in his mind, before shattering her heart.

Now, he wasn’t sure why he cared. Sure, he had thought about her a lot in the weeks they’d been apart, but he was always so sure that he had made the right choice. Relationships were messy, and he was young, so he had no intention to be tied down so soon. Still, the thought of her with Adrian Pucey made his blood boil, and he wished desperately that he could put an explanation to the feeling.

“Fred?” 

The sound of his name tore him from his thoughts of Y/N, and he quickly plastered on his signature goofy grin before sitting forward and re-immersing himself in the conversation. Still, in the back of his mind, images of Y/N and Adrian played on repeat, fueling a fire that he hadn’t realized was a lit within him.

-

A week later, Fred found himself at a party at Oliver Wood’s flat, celebrating a win for Puddlemere United. There was an array of different people there, ranging from his old Hogwarts team, to groupies, to people who had just showed up at the mention of a party. Fred had planned on getting drunk that night, but after seeing George and Lee sloppily grinding on a few witches in an intoxicated bliss, he decided maybe—for once—he would be the responsible one.

Fred had gone nearly an hour, just barely nursing a glass of firewhisky and chatting with old friends jovially, before his eyes landed on a familiar face entering the party. 

Fred was frozen at the eye contact they held, his first time seeing her in weeks. Y/N held the gaze for a moment, before turning to grip Adrian’s wrist behind her and drag him further into the party. If Fred thought he had a strong reaction to hearing about their relationship, it was nothing compared to actually seeing it. Fred slammed his drink down and walked away from the poor girl he had been chatting with without so much as an explanation.

“Let’s get out of here.” Fred clapped a hand down on George’s shoulder the moment he reached him, pulling his attention away from the girl dancing against him.

“Now?” George questioned incredulously, his brows raising. He gestured to the girl in his arms before returning a pleading look to his brother. “Come on, mate. This isn’t a great time.”

Fred knew he could convince his brother to leave if he explained, but his mouth felt entirely too dry. He couldn’t seem to formulate the words as to why he needed to get out of there. So, instead, he sighed and offered his brother a nod before retreating back to the outskirts of the people dancing.

Normally, Fred was the life of the party. By this point in the night, he’d usually be plastered and singing or dancing with no remorse. But seeing Y/N with a bloke like Pucey caused him to have an entire demeanor change, leaving him scowling leaned against the wall.

It didn’t take long for his eyes to find Y/N amongst those dancing, pressed closely to Pucey behind her. She was dancing provocatively, even turning in the man’s grasp every little bit to kiss him sloppily. At first, Fred had been almost certain that she was doing it on purpose. The way she was right in his line of vision, acting completely out of character in her open demeanor, it all felt like too much for him to handle. 

Then, she made eye contact with him, and held it, and he just knew. She was doing it on purpose. All of her actions had been a way to get him worked up, to see if he would get jealous, and dammit it was working. Fred chewed on the inside of his cheek, holding her gaze as she grinded her bum against Pucey. She held his gaze as she slowly craned her neck and pulled Adrian into a searing kiss, her eyes back on Fred the moment the two pulled apart.

That was the final straw for Fred. He wasn’t going to stand idly by while she taunted him so openly, showing him everything he was missing. So, he pushed through the crowd of people and found his way to the two of them, ignoring the small smirk that had risen on her face. 

“Y/N,” He breathed out, just loud enough for her to hear over the music. Suddenly, he was entirely unsure of his next move, but he desperately wanted to regain control over the situation. So, he said the first thing that came to mind. “Do you want to get out of here?”

“Oi, what the hell, Weasley?” Adrian paused his dancing, although his hands remained gripped on Y/N’s waist. “Can’t you see we’re a little busy here?”

Fred completely ignored the man at first, his eyes never leaving Y/N. He could see by the look on her face that he had played exactly into what she wanted, but with the jealousy coursing through him, he couldn’t find it in himself to care. She smirked slightly at Fred before craning her neck to look back at Adrian, almost as if she were challenging him to fight for her further. 

“I can see,” Fred seethed, finally looking up at Adrian. “I can see a poor girl not having a very good time. So, I’m offering her a better option. Why don’t you let her decide?”

Adrian scoffed, taking a small step back from Y/N but keeping one hand on her hip. He looked down at her, waiting expectantly for her to deny any desire to go off with Fred. When she simply glanced between the two of them, Adrian’s brows furrowed and a look of offense overtook his features.

“Come on, Y/N.” He pleaded. “Tell him.”

Y/N bit down on her lip, the action only infuriating Adrian further. He looked at her incredulously before scoffing and turning his head away.

“Should’ve known a desperate little slut like you couldn’t be loyal.”

In an instant, Fred pushed Y/N out of the way and landed a hard blow to Adrian’s jaw. Y/N was dazed, everything seeming to move in slow motion as all eyes turned on them. Adrian had faltered only for a moment, cupping his jaw in his hand before straightening up and lunging towards Fred.

Luckily, George and Lee were there after a moment, tearing Adrian away and threatening to pummel him as they marched him towards the door. Y/N knew Fred wouldn’t need their help in a fight, but she was still grateful that a full out brawl hadn’t occurred because of her. Y/N rushed to Fred, cradling his fist in her hand and glancing up at his eyes.

“Are you okay?” Her voice was soft, but the music had stopped, so he could hear her.

“‘m fine.” He answered curtly, glancing between the way she held his hand and her eyes. “So, can we get out of here?”

Y/N’s lips formed into a tight line, so as to conceal the smirk that desperately wanted to break through. She offered him a quick nod, and in an instant he was dragging her out the door and apparating her back to his flat.

The moment that they were in Fred’s room and the door shut, his lips were on hers. Her back was pressed up against his door, desperate little moans leaving her mouth as she reveled in the feeling of having him against her once more. Fred took the opportunity to push his tongue into her mouth when her lips parted, taking full control of the situation.

Y/N was more than content to let him take over, having missed him in their time apart more than she would ever like to admit. Of course, the feelings she still held for him lingered strongly, but she tried not to think about that as Fred pressed himself further against her. Adrian had been nothing more than a distraction, a feeble hope that she had held onto as a way to get over the tall red head, but it clearly hadn’t worked. She felt a bit bad, because she knew Adrian cared about her far more deeply than she did him, but she also knew she had made it clear she didn’t want a relationship. The irony was sickening.

“That was quite a show you were putting on tonight.” Fred pulled away from her breathlessly, his eyes tracking up and down her body.

“Yeah?” Y/N cocked her head to the side, feigning innocence. “I don’t know what you mean, I was just having a bit of fun.”

A low growl crawled out of his throat as he pressed his lips to hers once more, using more force than previously. Y/N squeaked at the intensity, but quickly melted into him. His hands trailed up and down her sides as she rested her own around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer.

Fred’s hands finally made their way to the hem of her shirt, his fingers ghosting over the skin of her stomach and sending a shockwave throughout her. Slowly, he trailed his fingers up, raising her shirt up in his wake. Y/N was quick to oblige, breaking away from him to allow him to tear the garment off completely. 

For a moment, Fred’s eyes trailed over her slightly revealed form, drinking in the way she looked half-naked. He hadn’t realized how much he missed seeing her like this, and he found that his breath hitched at even the littlest bit of exposure.

As his eyes met her pleading ones, he quickly recovered. Their passion resumed in an instant as he pressed his lips to hers once more, spinning her away from the door and walking her backwards towards his bed. Y/N allowed him to lightly push her back onto it, her heart fluttering at the sudden gentleness of his actions. She’d always loved the dominance he held over her, but something about what was happening between them now felt different. But, as he draped his body over her own, all of her hopes of actual romance melted away and her mind was entirely clouded with just the appeal of him.

Y/N arched herself against Fred, giving him the space to unclasp her bra. He slid the straps down her arms slowly, trailing open-mouthed kisses down her jaw and neck, until he finally met the tops of her breasts. He cast her bra aside, shooting her one last look before taking a pebbled nipple into his mouth. Y/N moaned at the contact, her fingers immediately threading themselves through his flaming hair. As his teeth gently grazed her nipple she gave his hair a tug, causing him to moan against her.

Fred continued his trail downward, planting kisses down her torso until he made it to the band of her leggings. Y/N lifted her hips and Fred held eye contact with her as he slowly pulled them down her legs. Y/N realized that he seemed to be drawing all of this out, pushing her to the point of pure desperation to make her pay for teasing him all night. Still, she bit her tongue and held back any thoughts of pleading with him, she couldn’t give in that easy.

When she was left in nothing but her panties, Fred sat back on his knees and leisurely unbuttoned his shirt. Y/N watched him intently, her frustration increasing significantly, until she could no longer contain it. She let out a desperate whine, pleading with the man with her eyes alone.

“Something wrong, love?” Fred cocked his head to the side and smirked.

“Freddie,” Y/N whined, the nickname feeling foreign yet fitting on her tongue.

Fred discarded his shirt before circling his hand around on of her ankles and hitching it up on his shoulder. He placed a soft kiss to the inside of her ankle before slowly trailing kisses back up her leg towards her thigh. Y/N shuttered as his lips ghosted over her clothed pussy, her eyes squeezing shut.

“Please.”

Fred looped one finger under the hem of her lace panties, but made no effort to pull them down. When a low chuckle escaped his lips, Y/N knew she was in trouble. Her eyes flew open once more, immediately meeting his darkened, lust-filled ones.

“Did you really think I’d give in that easy?” Fred mocked, punctuating his question by snapping the band of her underwear. “You tease me all night, putting on a show for me, acting like a desperate little slut.” He paused to wet his lips, drinking in the soft moan that escaped from her lips. “That is what you are, isn’t it?”

“Only for you, Freddie.” 

“Really?” Fred scoffed, sitting back up to begin fiddling with his belt. Y/N raised herself up on her forearms, desperation and arousal pooling in her core. “Because it didn’t seem that way tonight.” Fred’s tongue darted out of his mouth, swiping over his bottom lip as he gazed at her hungrily. “Think maybe I might need to remind you whose slut you are. What do you think?”

She whimpered, but managed a feeble nod. In their previous times together, her and Fred were nothing if not adventurous in the bedroom. Still, as he waved his wand and bound her wrists to his headboard, she couldn’t help but gasp and lightly fight against the restraints. Fred held a devilish smirk at her plight as he stood from the bed and sat his wand back down.

Fred crawled back over her, his intense dominance faltering for just a moment as he leaned down to whisper in her ear.

“Still remember the safe word, yeah?”

“Yes, Freddie.” She managed to speak, although it was difficult. Fred leaned back and searched her eyes for a moment before leaning in and placing a soft kiss to her lips. After that, any sense of gentleness faded.

Fred’s lips sucked and bit at her neck hungrily, one of his large hands trailing down to rub her through her panties while the other massaged her breast. Y/N’s thighs clamped around his hand, which quickly earned her a light swat to her hip.

“Stay still, or I’ll have no problem tying your legs up too.” Fred growled against her neck.

Y/N quickly obliged, spreading her legs further open. While previously she may have been more inclined to push Fred a bit, her mind was too clouded with lust to do anything but obey him. After weeks of mediocre sex with Adrian, she was ready to completely give herself over to Fred, and let him have her in anyway he wanted.

Fred’s hand pushed the fabric of her panties aside, allowing one finger to drag through her wet folds. She was already soaking wet for him, despite the fact he’d hardly touched her. Without a warning, he plunged one finger into her, lightly moaning at the way she constricted around him. Y/N’s back arched ever so slightly against him, tugging futilely against her bound wrists. He set a steady pace, thrusting his finger in and out of her before adding another and scissoring the two. He changed pace after a moment, beginning to curl his fingers up into her as his thumb rubbed circles against her waiting clit. The pressure in her core grew quickly from that, and she couldn’t help the way she loudly moaned out.

“Right there, yes, oh god…”

Fred was now smirking as he pulled away from her neck, significantly satisfied with the many markings he’d left as well as how quickly he could bring her to this point. He knew her body like the back of his hand, he knew her signs for when she was close, and it made it so much easier to enact his plan.

Just as Y/N was teetering on the edge, desperate whines and random babbles leaving her lips, Fred pulled his hand away. She let out a frustrated and confused groan, her eyes flying open as she felt the build up slowly slip away. Fred just grinned at her, before getting off the bed and ridding himself of his trousers and boxers. He lazily stroked himself as he took her in, chest heaving and covered in a light sheen of sweat, completely at his mercy. She had stopped her attempts at fighting her restraints, looking at him like she were almost defeated. In her mind, she’d begun to fear the very real possibility that Fred wouldn’t let her cum at all.

“You seem frustrated.” Fred cooed mockingly, coming to lean back over her and gently brush her cheek. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Fred.” Y/N spoke firmly, though her eyes portrayed her fears. “You’ve got to let me finish.”

“Hm.” Fred seemed to ponder that, leaning back to slowly pull her panties down her legs. “I don’t think I have to do anything. In fact, I could just leave you here all tied up and needy.”

“Please,” Y/N whined, her eyes beginning to fill with tears. “I’m sorry, okay? Is that what you want to hear?”

“It’s a start.” Fred tutted, finally discarding her panties aside. He leaned down near her ear once more, his warm breath sending a chill down her spine. “What I’d really like, though, is to hear how much you need me. Wanna hear you say it.”

“Please, Freddie, I need your cock so bad. Need you to ruin me.” Y/N cried out, losing all sense of dignity as her sex-addled brain took over. Fred had intended to tease her much longer, but her desperate pleas were going straight to his cock, and he couldn’t hold out any longer.

“That’s all you had to say, love.”

Fred hitched her leg around his hip, gripping his cock in his free hand. He teased the head through her wet folds, shivering at the moan she let out from just the smallest contact. Then, he pushed his hips forward, not stopping until he was completely buried in her. Their low moans mixed together in the quiet of the room, Fred being careful not to move until he was sure she had adjusted to his size.

“Fuck, I forgot how fucking good you feel.” He groaned, burying his face in her neck.

“Move… Please.”

He needed no further encouragement. Fred pulled out about halfway before snapping his hips back forward, setting a brutal but steady pace. Y/N’s loud moans and Fred’s grunts mixed together, accompanied only by the sound of their skin on skin contact. Y/N could feel her orgasm building again as his dick hit her g-spot with every thrust, and she was almost embarrassed by how quickly he could bring her to this point. 

“‘m so close, Freddie.” Y/N breathed out, knowing it would only infuriate him further if she came without his permission.

“Already?” Fred scoffed, although he knew he wasn’t far behind. 

Still, he wasn’t ready for things to end so soon, so he pulled out completely, ignoring the desperate whine that left her throat. He pulled both of her legs together and pushed her knees up against her chest, holding her ankles together with one hand before thrusting back into her desperate cunt. The new position allowed him to hit deeper within her as he thrust downward, causing Y/N to scream out. The pain was delicious, it was everything she had longed for in their time apart.

“You really think you deserve to cum?” Fred grunted, landing a particularly hard thrust into her. “After everything you pulled tonight?”

“Please.” Y/N whined. She was so close, she knew she wouldn’t be able to handle it if he stole another orgasm from her.

“Answer the question, slut.” Fred demanded, his pace quickening ever so slightly. “That’s what you are, isn’t it? A desperate little cum slut.”

“Yes.” Y/N cried out. “But only for you, Freddie. Just a slut for you.”

“That’s right.” Fred’s rhythm had begun to falter, approaching his own orgasm quickly. Still, he was unsure if he’d let her finish or not. “You’re my little slut. Only I get to call you that, right?”

“Yes, Freddie.” Y/N whined, beginning to tug again on her restraints. She wanted nothing more than to scrape her nails down his back, but being completely at his mercy turned her on endlessly.

“Good.” Fred was close, so fucking close, but he had made his decision. So he had to hold off. “Cum for me, then. You’ve earned it.”

That was all the encouragement she needed, and as Fred hit one more thrust into her g-spot she was tumbling over the edge. Electricity seemed to shoot all throughout her body as she loudly moaned out his name. Her legs were shaking and she was certain she’d be sore tomorrow, but she had little time to care about that as he continued to pound into her.

Y/N knew Fred well, just as well as he knew her, so she knew he was close. Her mind felt almost entirely blank and she wasn’t sure she had much energy for anything, but she wanted to bring him to his release badly. So, she clenched around him, a moan leaving her lips when he stuttered and groaned. His thrusts were faltering significantly, and after a few moments he was crying out her name as he finished in her. 

Fred pulled out and dropped her legs before crashing down next to her. He knew that he needed to untie her, but they also both just needed a moment to breathe. All that could be heard was the sounds of their mixed pants as they both came down from their highs. Once he was significantly more relaxed, he gripped his wand and swished it lazily, effectively removing the restraints she was held in.

Y/N hands dropped down and she quickly went to rub at her wrists, but Fred was quick to bat her hands away and do it himself. He examined both wrist closely, seeming to want to ensure that they were okay.

“They weren’t too tight, were they?” Fred implored after a moment. His genuine concern made her heart flutter, and she couldn’t help herself as she leaned in and placed a soft kiss to his lips.

“No, they were perfect—all of it was perfect.” She sighed as she pulled away from him. Her general cognition was beginning to return, and with it her fears of all of the pain she had gone through in the past etched their way through.

Sure, Fred had clearly gotten jealous at the party. Then, he had gotten possessive and claimed her in the bedroom. But that didn’t necessarily mean that he harbored the same feelings for her that she had for him. The fear nearly paralyzed her, and she wasn’t sure if she should quickly redress and flee the room or implore what this all meant. Luckily, he answered her internal questioning before she even had to ask.

“I don’t want to see you out with Pucey.” Fred sighed, his eyes not meeting hers. “Which is a total prat thing to say, but it’s true. I don’t want to see you out with any bloke, really.”

“Fred…” Y/N spoke tentatively, her eyes begging him to speak further.

“I want you, Y/N. Like, really.” Fred finally met her gaze. “Not just in my bed.”

“What, do you want me on the couch too?” Y/N tried to joke, hoping it would cover up her nervous tone. But it didn’t. So, her voice became soft. “Don’t get my hopes up, Freddie.”

“I’m being serious.” He shook his head. “I want to take you out on fancy dates, or watch movies with you on my couch. Bloody hell, I want to bring you to my parent’s house for Sunday dinners. I don’t know, I’m not good at this. Whatever it is that couples do.”

“Fred Weasley,” A small smile had begun to grow on Y/N’s face. “Are you asking me to be your girlfriend?”

“Yes.” Fred answered earnestly. “That is, only if you’re going to say yes. Otherwise, this was all just a joke—”

Y/N shut him up by pressing her lips to his, her mouth still curled upwards in a smile. It was impossible to hide the genuine happiness that his words brought her.

“Yes.” She answered softly as she pulled away.

A similar smile began to grow on Fred’s face as he completely registered her words, and he couldn’t help but dive back in for another kiss. Y/N was his, completely. Something he’d probably wanted for so long, but had simply been too daft to realize it. Now, as he held her in his arms, he promised himself he’d never make such a mistake again.

Tagging a few 18+ mutuals from my usual taglist: @wand3ringr0s3 @gcdric @theweasleysredhair 

[slightlymore]

red

part of the ‘soulmates collection’

(slytherin) doyoung x (ravenclaw) fem reader

others: (gryffindor) haechan | renjun mentioned like once 

genre: one-shot | smut | angst | fluff | romance | enemies to lovers | slight dark academia vibes | fantasy au | inspired by hogwarts but only for the names and separation in houses. this is a university setting with different magic (different spells, no wands etc., slytherins have some cool ass rooms and very questionable powers) 

warnings: oral f and m, penetration, unprotected, marking m receiving, body possessiveness in a magical way (? i made this up lol I hope its not that weird. like the plot point is a little cringy but I found it hilarious as I wrote it so I hope you don’t get mad at me when you discover what’s it about lol); a lot of bickering and insults; swearing

words: 9.5k (lol) 

requested by anon that wanted academic fights turn into mad sex aha I got inspired by that to make a longer fic with more depth to it (if it's alright) hope you like it! this is one of my favourite pieces I’ve written so far!!!! 👀👅👀

_____

As the rays of the sun hit the announcement board, your eyes darted on the pages filled with small characters. 

A little crowd of people started to chatter behind you, trying to see the ranking sheet as well, but no one dared to come close enough to push into you - the Ravenclaw Prefect. 

“Renjun? Whose dick did you suck to get 6th?” a voice giggled before a loud smack transformed the airy laugh in a dramatic “ouch”. “Lee Haechan, I swear I’ll-” but you didn’t get to hear the rest as your vision got suddenly blurry with rage and your ears started to whistle when your shoulder got bumped forcing you to make a few ungraceful steps to the side. 

“What’s that face for, YLN?” 

You tightened your fists. 

You could have recognized that annoying voice in a thousand others: Kim Doyoung, the Slytherin Prefect and the person you hated most in the whole universe. 

“Ah, right,” he hit his fist on one palm turning his head with fakely widened eyes. “You’re second place. Again.” 

You hated Kim Doyoung and everything that had to do with him. 

His voice? Hideous. 

The fragrance of the fabric softener on his clothes? Repugnant. 

His favourite dishes at the cafeteria? Revolting. 

His favourite authors? Idiots. 

Everything reminded you of him and one time you had a literal meltdown in a supplies shop as every notebook and pen has been seen in his backpack at a certain point. 

“I see that manners are still very difficult for you to master, Kim,” you spit out his last name. 

Doyoung laughed. “I apologize profusely for not following useless societal rules such as manners the way your finite mind intends.” 

An echo of little “ohh” surrounded you but abruptly stopped as you threw a venomous glance at the little crowd behind you. 

“Is this what you’ve been doing to get in the first place? Not following the rules?” you cocked an eyebrow at Doyoung. 

The tongue inside his cheek moved around for a few seconds before he crossed his arms on his chest and got closer until his feet clashed with yours. 

You didn’t step back. 

“Is this an accusation?” 

You pursed your lips as if thinking and Doyoung let you put on the little theatre act before he could hear your “Maybe?” 

A single dry and unamused scoff came out of his lips as his eyes stared you down from head to toes. 

“So you’re resorting to - this?” he gestured vaguely. “You’re that bitter that you couldn’t keep your first place for two whole semesters now?” 

“Oh? It hurt so badly the first time that you kept track of it, baby boy?” you cooed. 

The new nickname threw him off for a split second and although he was quick to come back to his usual expression you noticed it and you smiled triumphantly. 

The crowd was collectively holding its breath. 

He opened his mouth to say probably something stupid as usual when the voice of the professor interrupted you and the spell got shattered. 

“Come inside little roosters. Preserve that energy for the class debate.” 

Previously silent to not miss a single exchange you had with Doyoung. everyone suddenly started to chat while making their way inside the classroom. 

You both still didn’t move a single muscle, your eyes still trained on each other like predators. “I said-,” the professor clicked his fingers between your faces, “-come inside.”

_____

“I can’t fucking believe this.” 

Your university was overall a good place with good and proficient rules. You followed them all and you enjoyed it. But there were also a few rules you suddenly realized you hated. Like the “your seat in the study room will be your seat for the rest of the semester and whoever seats in somebody else's seat during the year, said somebody can slash their shins”. 

You would have loved to see Doyoung sitting at your place. His long legs could use some kicking. But unfortunately, something even worse happened. 

He was sitting right in front of you. 

“Why are you here?” you added, throwing your bag on the desk in front of him and making a few of his papers fly on the floor. 

Doyoung sighed seeing his stuff gently falling around and raised his eyes with the most venomous smile he could pull off. 

“The Gryffindor gentleman over there-” he indicated towards his previous’ semester desk, “took my seat so I had to find another one.” 

You followed his pointed finger and spotted Lee Haechan in the midst of popping a chewing gum bubble. 

He winked. 

You rolled your eyes. 

He made an obscene gesture revolving a tongue in the cheek and hand motions. 

You returned the favour with your middle finger. 

“And you had to sit here of all places. You let a Gryffindor snatch your place.”

Doyoung licked his lower lip before taking it inside his mouth for a moment. 

“Miss ‘manners’ and miss ‘following the rules’ is mad that I, mister ‘fuck useless rules’ and fuck ‘useless manners’ didn’t smack a boy in the head to get a desk?” 

You breathed in slowly and exhaled before you could scream at him. 

“I don’t want to see you every day in front of me.” 

Doyoung pinched the base of his nose before speaking. 

“Listen, I also don’t want to see your face this close every day for a whole semester but it is what it is. All the other seats are taken. Stop whining or go and suck Lee’s dick to get his desk instead.” 

You scoffed incredulously and plopped down with force, ignoring the boy’s sighs as the movement made some other papers fall. 

"You're insufferable,” he whispered. 

"I am insufferable?" you stopped taking the books from your bag then suddenly dropped the heaviest one, making the whole desk tremble. 

Doyoung looked at you then smirked. "You're in a worse mood than usual. Is it because you couldn't reach the top?" 

He leaned in as if about to share a secret. "Are you frustrated that I'm always in your mind 24/7?"

His dark eyes looked like two abysses and suddenly you felt like falling into them. Then he blinked once, slowly, and you blinked too, the sudden silence chatter of the study room bringing you to the surface. 

Fuck Slytherins and their weird-ass magnetic eyes. You wanted to smack him in the fucking face. 

"So I see you keep wanting to be ridiculous as always," you replied but you both realized how soft your tone got. 

You cleared your throat - don’t talk to me anymore! it said - and you opened your books, eyes unable to look at Doyoung's face. 

He got the hint and leaned back into his seat amused, playing with his pencil. It rolled on his fingers, then on his knuckles and when he placed it on the desk with sudden force you jolted. 

"If you want to surpass me, stop staring at my hands and get on studying."

Doyoung had to slide away with his chair for you to not reach his throat and choke him.

_____

"So do you want to choke him with his tie or do you want him to choke you with his tie?" "I want to choke you." Haechan smirked. "I'm not sure I'm into that stuff but we can try it out." "I can't believe you did this to me." "Ah come on. Everyone is having fun. He's having fun. You're the only one taking it too seriously." "I am not taking it seriously. I'm just annoyed every time I see his face. 'The best option is to reinvent yourself'" you mocked Doyoung's voice during philosophy class. "You can reinvent the world first. What kind of selfish nonsense is that?" "Slytherin nonsense. But still, he had good points to his discourse- ahi." "Go and be his friend then." "I would, but I'm stuck here with you because--ahi." 

"You're always getting hit, Lee," that voice interrupted your discourse. 

You rolled your eyes and breathed out so heavily that for a split moment you thought someone transformed you into a horse. 

"Hit on, by girls." "I will hit you too if you don't leave my desk," Doyoung smiled peacefully.  "Well," Haechan got up slowly, "I wouldn't mind that either."

Doyoung bit his lower lip amused and to your absolute shock he winked at your friend. Haechan laughed and left you two alone. 

"What was that?" 

Doyoung sat down ready to get to work. "Huh?" 

"Were you friendly just now?" 

Doyoung blinked at you as if processing the question. "Yeah? I am friendly usually."

"Why are you not friendly with me?" 

Doyoung's expression suddenly trembled on his face like a mask. He looked up surprised and for a split moment, he appeared weirdly younger, with his open lips and wide eyes. You stared at each other for a few seconds and it was the first time you didn't feel like opening up his guts.

But then he smiled and it all got back to you. "Because I hate you,” he explained.

_____  

The ball was okay. A normal ball just like all of the other boring balls you were forced to attend each start of the semester. No alcohol, at least not offered from the university but definitely offered by the older students. All said students dressed well, but following the decency rules which led to boring outfits. 

Your red dress was the boldest thing around and Ravenclaw cheered upon your entry in the Grand Hall. 

A cool Prefect? Yeah, you had to be one if you wanted to beat Kim Doyoung. 

At the moment everyone liked him more since he let his people smuggle liquor into the university but you weren’t about to fall to such low standards to win. 

But food? Hell yeah. 

It was not illegal and everyone wanted to have pizza instead of finger food made of hell knows what. 

“Y/N, if you continue like this, I’ll probably fall in love with you,” a random dude smiled, helping himself. You smiled back at him, glad that cute guys wanted to talk to you. 

“Well-,” you started, ready to bat your eyelashes, but the guy suddenly jolted, the piece of pizza he was holding literally flying from his hands and landing on his face instead. 

You yelped, bringing your hands to your mouth in shock, staring at the way it slowly slid from his nose down on his impeccable white shirt. 

“Shit,” he threw the pizza away on the bin at his right and made his way through the crowd with spicy tomato sauce in his eyes. 

“You got all kinds of pizzas and not my favourite topping,” Doyoung suddenly materialized near you with a dramatic sigh, scaring the shit out of you.  “You!” you turned your head to him and pointed your finger at his face. Doyoung stared at your fingertip then at your eyes. “You did that to the guy just now!” 

The boy blinked at you as if you were crazy. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he shook his head but when he took a piece of pizza and started to munch on it, one hand waving at you and walking towards his friends, you noticed the way he smiled.

_____

A few hours later, people were scattered around the campus, most of them in bed “sleeping”, some of them actually already sleeping since it was almost morning. 

The prefects were still in the hall, wrists twisting and eyes annoyed at the chore of having to clean up after the ball. 

“It’s going to take you only half an hour, my children,” the headmistress chuckled brightly. “You’re prefects for a reason. Other children don’t have your advanced magical power and would end up cleaning for a whole day. Responsibilities. Am I right?” 

“She could clean in 5 minutes yet here we are,” the Gryffindor prefect mumbled after she left, leaving behind an obnoxious perfume cloud. 

If the ball would have at least been fun, it would be different now, cleaning while at least being a little euphoric. 

But not only was it the most boring and uneventful party ever, you also had to do Kim Doyoung’s part since he was as slow as a snail. 

“Get your shit together. We can clean much faster if you get your ass up,” you stared him down with hands on your hips.

Doyoung looked up at you from the chair he was sprawled on, one hand to sustain his head, the other twisting while his finger lazily transported a flying bottle of beer across the room. 

“I am working.” 

You scoffed. “You’re the best at object moving. If you wanted, you could also finish everything in 5 minutes.” 

The boy tilted his head to the side, suddenly focused and amused. “Are my ears failing me, or did you just compliment me?” 

“If you need my praise to do your job, then yes, Kim, you’re very good at this type of magic.” 

Doyoung chuckled happily and got up. With a smack of his lips, he rolled his wrists and all the trash disappeared from the floors and tables appearing into the trash cans instead. The Hufflepuff prefect whistled, impressed, and the Gryffindor sighed upon realizing he had worked his ass off for nothing. 

You put your tongue in your cheek annoyed but also secretly happy he actually did it. “Floors.” 

Doyoung took out his tongue in the most annoying habit he had. Your eyes involuntarily darted towards it and he smiled. 

“You’re such a snake when you do that.” “Okay, crow. Deal with your floors yourself then,” he passed you and walked towards the exit. 

The other prefects already left, too tired to deal with your bickering and probably relieved that someone else could clean up much faster. 

You stared at his back, annoyed, then twisted your wrist to pull his body back towards you. His black jacket moved as if a gentle breeze blew across him and Doyoung stopped. 

“Wait, sorry-” he laughed and turned around, his voice echoing in the gigantic empty room ringing inside your skull. “-were you perhaps trying to do-” he twisted his wrist and you yelped, feet dragging across the pavement as if your body was being pulled by an invisible force until you clashed on his chest, “-this?” he finished. 

Your hands were up on his shirt and for a few moments your brain couldn’t think anything besides, first, how good he smelled, and second, it was the first time for you to actually touch each other. 

“If you’re so good at this, then clean the floors as well, so we can finally go.” 

He stared you down.

“Ask nicely.” 

You scoffed incredulously. “I’d rather clean it with my own hands than do that.” 

He smiled. "You want to kiss me so badly, Y/N." 

“I-- what? Are you drunk?” 

“Why are you so flustered?” 

“I am--not-” you grabbed the hand he raised to cup your face, “flustered! I am appalled.” 

“I want to kiss you.” 

Breathing has never been a difficulty for you and you’ve always laughed at main characters in books talking so extensively about air, but at that moment, your hand still holding Doyoung’s one, your chests pressing against each other and his eyes, fuck, you actually started to slightly pant. What was wrong with him? 

“If you stopped using your snake powers-” “This is no power. It’s just you being attracted to me,” he finally cupped your face and this time you didn’t move away. “Check on it. You can pull away.”

He was right. But if that wasn’t some slytherin doing then you were probably going crazy because you saw your hands move almost on their own on Doyoung’s shoulders. 

Then you actually leaned in and he met you halfway. 

Your limbs were trembling when he brushed his lips on yours and to your surprise, they were warm and soft. 

Then he pulled you even closer and you whined for no reason besides your brain yelling ‘this is so nice!!!! we love dopamine!!!’ at you. 

And you sought for some more. 

When you licked his lower lips, Doyoung’s hands had a tremor on your waist but he was quick to adjust to your sudden burst of passion with the same energy. 

Of all the things that you anticipated that night, making out with Kim Doyoung was definitely not one of them. Then why you felt relieved as if finally doing somethig you’ve ached to do for so long?

Did he want to kiss you? 

He was currently kissing you at that moment? 

Absurd. 

Yet there you were, panting and desperate for each other, unable to stop drinking each other’s breaths. 

“I’m taking you to my room,” he whispered and the look in his eyes was something you’ve never seen before.

____

Suffocating.

You were suffocating as your breath was taken away from your lungs at Doyoung's every touch on your back. 

First your neck with his cold knuckles, then your spine to reach the zip of your red dress. He opened it slowly imitating the pace of his soft lips on your jaw. And when the fabric fell to your feet you turned around, your arms quick to pull him into a messy kiss, while his hands fell on your hips, pushing you towards the silky bed. 

You sat down and got quickly on your knees to be able to reach his face again. 

Doyoung, standing near the edge of the bed, closed his eyes when you drifted your attention from his lips to his neck then chest, placing a kiss on the newly exposed skin every time you made a button pop open. His abdomen twitched every time and when you reached his navel you palmed his torso up, enjoying his shaky breath when the shirt fell off his shoulders.

A little chuckle coming from you made him look down at your sultry face, the hue of the red lights and lit candles dancing on your skin. Then he stared at his own body. Dozens of kisses adorned it in the colour of your lipstick.

"If I can't mark you, I can at least do this," you raised one eyebrow at him, hands gently dealing with his belt. "Who said you can't mark me?" "Hm?" you opened his pants zip and you could have sworn that Doyoung's eyes flickered. "You really want to go around all covered in hickeys?"

The boy smiled and cupped your face, his thumb slowly caressing your lower lip. "Do it where it can't be seen then."

So you let your tongue out on your amused lips and leaned down to reach the skin above the waistband of his underwear. Your tip wetted his skin making his take in a deep breath. "Is here alright?" you whispered against his warm body.

Doyoung's hand found his place on your nape and you took it as consensus, gingerly taking his skin inside your mouth and sucking on it. A red spot already started to form and you sucked again near it, and again, before suddenly placing a kiss on his clothed bulge instead. 

Doyoung drank air through his teeth at the unexpected touch and his fingers got to your shoulders, pushing you into the bed before your legs could wrap around his waist. 

His tongue inside your mouth was as delicious as the silk your body was rubbing against. It made its way down your neck then chest and when it reached your perked nipples your knees buckled and you grabbed that red silk with your fists. Little soft whimpers escaped your lips and they became louder as Doyoung's fingers got between your legs. They scratched the lace of your panties and you lifted your hips as he dragged them down. The boy, then, palmed your skin and placed open kisses on it from the ankle down and every touch closer made you lose a bit of your self-control. 

You really were about to fuck Kim Doyoung. 

What kind of sick and twisted situation was that? 

Were you bewitched? 

Did he do something to you?

But when his lips reached your dripping core, tongue quick to collect your juice, it didn't matter. 

If this was the consequence of you getting bewitched, you wanted it to happen every day. And you told him. You hand gripped his hair and your back arched, profanities quickly spilling out of your chest. Doyoung cupped your ass, pressing his thumbs into your flesh and you let your thighs drape over his shoulders. 

Why was he that good? It honestly offended you to find out that Kim Doyoung aced pussy eating too besides everything else. 

And when he stopped to breathe, you saw his eyes and his juicy lips. 

It was the sexiest view you’ve ever seen in your life so you yanked his head toward your face and he obliged with a panting smile. 

Making out while his long fingers pumped inside of you was the highlight of your university career, and you cared about the curriculum a lot. 

And when he curled them upwards, touching spots inside of you that made you lose vision, you were ready to beg him to do it to you as often as possible. 

"Cumming- I'm--ah-" 

Doyoung got back between your legs and added his tongue to the action again. 

It was too much. 

His books flew from his shelves as you reached the highest climax of your life. 

He chuckled, peppering your shaking body in soft kisses. “I thought you weren’t good at object moving.” You breathed heavily a few more moments before finally finding your voice again. Doyoung reached your lips and you shivered upon feeling his hard cock resting between your legs. He stared at your expression as he lightly hit your oversensitive clit with its tip then rubbed himself between your folds with a sigh. “You’re the one good at moving, so please, move.” The boy bit your lower lip, stretching it out a little before sucking on it, one hand to cup your hip and the other grabbing the silk near your head. He got you so wet that he didn’t need much to easily slip inside of you. He cursed with heavy breath and you wondered if your nails were leaving marks on his back skin as he moved his hips. 

You didn't have Doyoung only in your brain like usual, thinking about him day and night. You finally had him physically so deep inside that you thought you were about to lose your mind. 

So this was it, the sweet overwhelming sensation of being in the present instead of chasing something in the future. 

It was just like everyone described it to be, everything. 

But it wasn't a moment in time or space as you’ve anticipated. It was a person and that person, you realized, was Doyoung. 

If your mouth wasn’t busy spilling his name out of it inside his soft lips and if his hums didn’t make your whole being vibrate, you would have probably laughed at the destiny. 

"You are, so fucking, hot-," you whispered breathlessly, eyes barely able to stay open to drink in his image. "So you admit it. You think I'm sexy," you could see his smirk even in the red darkness of his room. "I wouldn't let you ram into me like this if I thought otherwise." "Oh really? And yet I was here thinking you were doing charity since 'no girl would want to make my dick wet'." You chuckled before the sounds could get interrupted by your high moans instead, the frustration that phrase gave to Doyoung translating into his hips thrusting even harder. "I take that back." "Are you trying to say that you want me to slow down? You can’t take this?" "Oh, no, I love how you're fucking me as if you hate me." "But I don’t actually hate you”, you wished to hear at least for a split second but no word came out of the boy's lips, his hips slowing down instead as he buried his face into the crook of your neck.

It was as good as his fast thrusts, his strokes so fluid and deep it made you grunt every time he pressed into you. He was so good that it irritated you. 

"You really like to do the opposite of what I want, huh?" "Yeah," his voice inside your ear made your skin get goosebumps. “I love your frustrated expression and mannerism.” "Ah, shit-" you dug your nails into his back as the bed started to creak. "A good girl like you swearing like this? Who taught you?" "It's your influence." "Am I turning you bad?" "Yeah. Every time you're around I want to do bad things and I have no idea what's going on." You didn't expect to be that honest but Doyoung's intimate presence was like a drug, making you feel so high that you were ready to get twisted by him in every way he wanted. 

No. You desired it. You wanted Doyoung to play with you and for once you would not resist it at all. You would beg for more.

And when he actually took you there, in a place where your thoughts did not exist anymore, where only his touch grounded you, the hand that pushed you over the edge and the one bringing you back up, you did just that. You asked for more, shaking uncontrollably on his luscious bed and he did what you wanted. For once he granted every wish you had and even beyond that.

_____

Your desire to leave his room that night was not as strong as you anticipated. 

Doyoung arms didn't want to let go and you didn't fight him at all. 

Sighing, you got back to his chest and didn't comment on the way he tightened his hold on you. If this wasn’t the way people-that-hate-each-other-but-like-to-weirdly-fuck-for-some-reason behaved, it would be a concern for your conscious mind and not for your fucked up one. 

His scent was inebriating and if you didn't know the way he could make you feel, you would have thought that it was the highest form of aphrodisiac. 

And maybe it was actually making you feel high because under your lids you could have sworn that the room slowly changed colour. 

You opened your sleepy eyes and stared at the wall behind Doyoung’s shoulder, blinking hard. 

It was dark blue, almost black, with a myriad of little bright lights. 

The candles went out and the room did get dark after Doyoung rolled over breathless, his cum dripping slowly on your thigh, but you were pretty sure there were no stars before. 

And when you shifted to rest on your back you almost choked on your own spit. 

You weren’t looking at the night sky. 

No. You were inside the sky. 

Purple, whites, yellows and pinks all melted together to form galaxies and cosmic dust. 

No roof, no walls, no pavements, just the bed, Doyoung and you in the middle of everything. 

Your fingers dug into the arm Doyoung had thrown across your chest and perhaps you made some type of sound because the boy opened his eyes to stare at your profile. “Do you like it?” he murmured. Your head snapped towards his face and his eyes reflected the infinite little lights as if he held two other universes inside of them. “How is this possible?” He smiled sheepishly. “Slytherin rooms. They change based on the owner’s mood.” You felt your mouth open on its own. “This is your doing?” Doyoung hummed and closed his eyes again, pulling you towards him to hold you like before. You let him place his chin on top of your head and breathed in his scent yet again. 

“So the red room?” “I was horny.” You smiled. “And how do you feel now?” “A little less horny. If I’m not careful you’ll see a whole star engulf us soon.” “This is so unfair. We don’t have such cool rooms.” “Or maybe you do but being Ravenclaws you’re all thinking of boring, brown looking rooms.” 

You rolled your eyes even if he couldn’t see you and gently, you placed a hand on his chest, close to your face and above his heart. You could feel the calm and peaceful beats in syntony with the night sky. To know that inside that boy’s mind could be such beauty made your heart not beat as calmly as his heart did. 

You had no idea what you were doing, hugging so intimately with your sworn enemy, and maybe it was the romantic vibe that made you do it since there was no rational explanation to any of it, but you raised your face to meet his lips. 

And you just kissed him. Slowly and softly, barely brushing them with yours. 

Doyoung opened his eyes for a moment, as if surprised, but upon feeling you pressing yourself on his body he closed them again and pulled you on top of him. 

The universe didn’t change, although, when you let your tongue inside his mouth, slowly, as if having all the time in the world at your feet, the stars flickered and got brighter. 

“Are you trying to see a star up close? I can make it happen without you rubbing yourself on me,” he smiled on your lips. “What happens when you suddenly lose control?” Doyoung’s pupils trembled and the room started to shake. You knew it wasn’t real but you still jolted and looked around terrified. “Let’s find out.”  

_____

"I, saw, you, leave, with, Kim, Doyoung, last night," Haechan chanted teasingly as he sat down with his breakfast tray. 

You wanted to keep a poker face but your facial muscles weren't under your control so you smiled. 

"Oh!! Look at her! Oh my God. So- wow. Okay. Okay," Haechan tried to compose himself. "Is he any good?" he leaned in lowering his voice. 

You sighed and nodded. "So fucking good."

Haechan squealed and hit your shoulder before wrapping it with one arm and wobbling you around. 

"Stop it!" you hissed amused. "Everything hurts." "EVERYTHING HURTS! So he's got a monster cock."

"Shut up!" you pressed your hand on his mouth scandalized as Doyoung made his way inside the cafeteria with his friends. 

You breathed in slowly and just as slowly you exhaled, trying to relax. Haechan made an effort to appear calm as well. "Sup, Kim." You smiled. 

The other boy looked your way as he walked behind your table. "Hey, Lee," then he turned to you. "Y/L/N." 

And left. 

Just like that. 

He looked at you for one second and continued on his way to the Slytherin tables. 

No smile. 

No acknowledgement. 

Cold just like before. 

As if nothing had happened. 

You stared at his back, feeling your limbs heavy like stone. Turning around slowly, you grabbed your fork and started to eat in silence. "Hey." Haechan lightly bumped your arm with his shoulder. "He's probably just feeling awkward." You munched slowly and took it as an excuse to keep quiet. "Hey, come on." "What?" Haechan sighed. "You can say that you're disappointed that he-" "I don't know what you're talking about."

_____

For the first time, instead of feeling rage inside your gut, you felt anxious. 

Doyoung was in front of you, face almost hidden under his hair as he typed into his computer. He greeted you as he usually did before the, well, before you let him see the deepest parts of you, figuratively and physically. But after that single “hey” no other words came from his part. 

It wouldn't have been that weird if only a few hours ago he didn't kiss your lips in heaven. 

When you woke up that morning, the night sky wasn’t there anymore. At his place were clouds. White fluffy clouds in the middle of a pink sky. 

It was breathtaking and you felt like flying. 

And he did kiss you softly. 

And now he acted as if you weren't even there. 

Maybe Haechan was right. Maybe he was feeling awkward. It's not like he could suddenly act lovingly in front of the whole campus. You were still enemies after all. And maybe you were also right. 

You've just fucked. It's not like you started to date. He had no obligations towards you. 

Yet, when his fingers drew your spine and his sigh caressed your lips, it didn't seem just fucking to you. 

Was Doyoung like that? Was that his personality? Was he doing that to all the girls he brought into his room? Making them cum multiple times and showing them his soft side? Was that a well-plotted plan? Was he trying to hurt you? 

You were ready to let him do whatever he wanted to you the previous night, yet at that moment, under the bright sunlight of the study room, you felt sick. It was a weird feeling. It grabbed at your throat and travelled down to your heart making it difficult for you to breathe. 

You trusted him with your feelings and you let him see your vulnerable side. 

Did he laugh? Was he feeling triumphant now? Did he win a battle against you? He had you on his palm? Because, God, he did have you on his palm now and with only a twist of his wrist he could get you into his arms again. 

And you would have let him.

You hated it. You fell so hard it hurt everywhere. You were dizzy and confused and you couldn't look at him anymore.

_____

It was easy to avoid Doyoung for the following days. It was almost too easy as if he was trying to avoid you too. So walking towards the library you jolted hearing his low voice inside one of the classrooms. You stopped in place and after a few seconds of thinking you peeped inside. Then you gulped and hid under the door window. 

He was resting his hips on the professor's desk, eyebrows furrowed and arms crossed on his chest. In front of him was standing one of the most beautiful girls you've ever seen. 

She was talking with a peaceful tone and Doyoung suddenly laughed. You got up and quickly walked away.

_____

"How the fuck would I know?" the girl asked. 

Doyoung rolled his eyes. "Your dad designed them. You must know more than me."

"Listen. We're the only house with mood rooms because we're the only people who can control their emotions. It's not my fault you're a terrible Slytherin and your room has been pitch black for the past days." 

Doyoung sighed in irritation. "What the fuck does that even mean though?" 

"Usually mourning."

The boy shook his head. "No one died."

"Then it can be a general pain. Or confusion," the girl explained. 

Doyoung raised his gaze on her. "What would I be so confused about?" 

She shrugged. "You're the only one that can know. Chill out maybe and stop thinking when you're inside of it. I'll ask my dad how to turn it off and I'll let you know. Now leave me alone, I'm busy," she said and left the classroom.

_____

"Hey," Doyoung said. "That's my pencil."

You looked down at your fingers and furrowed your eyebrows. 

"No. This is mine."

The boy sighed. "I can sense it's mine."

"I legit bought it yesterday. And what are you? A psychic? 'I can sense it's mine'." 

"I'm a Slytherin. We're snakes. Everything I lick is mine. And I can sense that's mine." 

Your mouth opened slightly and you waited for him to laugh but Doyoung remained serious. 

"That has to be a joke."

"Okay, keep it. It just makes me feel giddy when things I own are used by other people." "Because you're selfish." "It's a real sensation. I know when something I licked is being used by somebody else," and he raised his eyes on you. You stared back and the weight of his words made your throat close. 

I hope it doesn't work with people too, you wanted to ask, but the noise on your left interrupted you. 

"Can I talk to you?" the same girl from a few days ago suddenly made her appearance near your desk. Doyoung looked at her surprised. "Yeah." "Bring me to your room," she ordered.

_____

You shouldn't have been there. 

It was useless and it would only make you further lose your mind. 

But your feet descended the Slytherin corridor, nose following the trail of the girl's perfume until arriving at Doyoung’s door. 

You remained still for a moment and after a few seconds of indecisiveness you suddenly turned around going back. 

That was too creepy. You had absolutely no reason to be there. If Doyoung wanted to fuck that girl, so be it. 

But then you stopped again. 

Fuck. 

Just, just a little glance. Just a tiny little glance. Just the colour. Just to be sure. 

You didn't turn around to actually see anything. With your back towards the door, you twisted your wrist, doing the most illegal thing one can do inside the campus - transparency spell. A tiny portion of the wall disappeared at your silent command and you could see the red hue spilling outside of it on the dark pavement at your feet. 

It was enough and you barely saw the stairs when you got out of the basement.

_____

"You weren't lying when you said it's pitch black. It even absorbs magic light."

Doyoung sighed. 

The girl presumably turned around because Doyoung heard her voice more clearly when she spoke again.

"Okay, so this is what we're gonna do. Sit down somewhere and relax." 

The boy let himself fall on the carpet with a grunt. 

"Close your eyes."

He obliged even if he could have let them open too for all it mattered. 

"Now, think of someone of your choice." 

Doyoung's mind automatically drifted towards you and the room besides being dark, felt suddenly very cold as well. 

"No, okay, Doyoung, change the person." "She's the only one I can think about." The girl sighed. "Well, at least we know the reason for all of this. God, it's so fucking cold, try to not think about anything for a second!" 

"It's hard, okay?" 

"Okay, fuck. Think about her but imagine something else. Think of a good memory you have with her."

Doyoung sighed irritated and furrowed his eyebrows even more. "I don't think this is going to work."

But when he let his mind imagine your panting expression underneath him, a slight red hue started to create from the floor going up to the walls. 

The girl exulted. "Yes! Don't stop. Continue thinking about that!" 

Doyoung opened up one eye as the girl exulted again and he could finally see the furniture in his room. 

It was a dark red, not the bright red he actually had his room painted in when he held you into his arms, but enough for him to not get a headache 24/7.

"Well it's not like I can think about--that, every time I need to be in my room, can I?" he got up. 

The girl knew what red meant and she chuckled. 

"Don't you have any other good memory with her besides fucking?" 

The room got bright red. 

The girl laughed even harder. 

"Ah, shut up." "Hey, I helped you out." "Barely," he plopped on the bed and put his face into his palms. 

It could have been considered a gesture coming from embarrassment if the lights didn't start to get dim again. 

"God, you're really all over the place, huh?" she sat near him. "What happened? Is she your ex?”  

Doyoung sighed and directed his gaze upon an indistinct point in front of him. Maybe he was tired, or maybe it was the dark room and the fact that Doyoung didn’t even remember the girl’s name, making her a safe stranger, but he whispered. 

"I made a mistake. I thought she was into me so-- fuck, I went down on her."

The girl made a surprised sound but waited for the most important part. 

“Well, she’s not into me, but I am.”

"You're so stupid!" 

"Yeah okay, thanks."

"We're Slytherins! It's not like we don't give head because we're prude, it's to prevent this! You horny dumbass." "I thought she liked me! I had no idea she'd- fuck someone else right after!" Doyoung grunted frustrated and fell back on the bed, the room getting to the pitch-black from before. 

The girl let the silence calm him down a bit before talking. 

"I am sorry. I had things used by others but I don't know what it feels like with people."

"It's not necessarily painful but- knowing the reason, it's just-" 

"Yeah. You just have to let her go so the bond is receded. Like with things, you know?"

"It's easy to let go of a thing that's yours. How can I manage to let go of her?" 

The girl sighed and remained in silence.

_____

You had no idea how you managed to remain seated in front of Doyoung that morning. 

His complexion was paler than usual and his eyes were very tired. As if he didn't sleep enough last night. Or at all. 

You had to breathe in and out slowly to ease the pain inside your stomach. 

"You look terrible."

Doyoung's dark irises under his low lids made your skin crawl when he looked up at you. 

"Is someone keeping you too active to get enough sleep?" you asked again, trying hard to get back to the tone you both were used to before. 

The boy tightened his lips in a mockery smile. "Yeah. As discussed, I have no problem keeping my dick wet."

"Well-," you frowned with a raised chin, your lips forming a pout for a moment before you forced them to keep the poker face, "-I started to see someone lately too."

He looked unbothered. "As in dating or hallucinations?" 

You ignored his comment. 

“We’ve already been on three dates,” you lied. 

“And you’re telling me this because-?” 

You shrugged. “Conversation.” 

“I hate small talk.” 

“Is there something you don’t hate?” 

“Silence. And smart people, which given your latest test results, you’re not.” 

You had no idea what it was. 

You and Doyoung had always called each other names, insulted each other’s intelligence and the sorts, yet at that moment, maybe because of your failing tests, the alignment of stars or the fact that you were actually in love with him, you burst into tears. 

It took Doyoung a few good seconds to realize that you were wailing in front of him.

“Hey?” 

He crouched on the desk to be able to see your face from underneath your arms. You hid it even more. 

“Y/N,” he lowered his voice. It was as soft and delicate as when he whispered your name under the sky. 

You suddenly took your stuff and ran away from the study room.

_____

Doyoung was slowly but surely losing his mind. 

One day, two days, three days and you were still nowhere to be seen. 

His room has been different shades of grey, which was better than black but now the walls had water running on them and the floor was constantly wet. 

Altogether, not a good time. 

“Holy shit, are you that depressed?” 

Doyoung raised his eyes from the book he was reading before rolling them so far up that Haechan thought they wouldn’t come back anymore.

“What do you want?” 

The Gryffindor took a step inside the room with hands behind his back and took a lazy stroll to where Doyoung’s dresser was crying. “Your flowers are all dead. Throw them away.” “They keep appearing every time,” Doyoung started to read again, the little line between his eyebrows showing how hard he tried to understand whatever the pages were trying to say but failing. 

“I’m here because it’s boring to not have you yell at Y/N in the study room as always,” Haechan spoke again nonchalantly, fingers rubbing against each other, as to get rid of the imaginary dust they collected from Doyoung’s furniture. Given the situation, the room probably made up piles of mud as well. 

"Who's the guy?" Doyoung suddenly asked. 

Haechan furrowed his eyebrows. "What guy?" 

"The one she's fucking."

The other blinked at him surprised. 

"You mean, Kim Doyoung?" 

The Slytherin's eyes widened and Haechan saw how he looked with flushed cheeks for the first time in his life. 

"Aw, come on. Of course, I know everything."

"If you know everything, then tell me who the fuck this guy she's been fucking beside me is!" Doyoung got up from the bed. 

"There's no other guy. What are you talking about?" 

"Fuck, I felt it how he touched her and it drives me crazy!" Haechan opened his mouth to talk but jolted, eyes staring at Doyoung’s arm extended to hit the wall behind his head expecting to see a dent in the hard brick from how much force he put into that.  

"Is it you?" “Uhm? What the fuck?” "Answer me." "Okay, first of all, take a step back."

Doyoung leaned in even more and Haechan gulped. 

"Okay! Okay, gosh. No. There's no guy fucking her as far as I know."

"Where is she?" "I don't know." "What kind of friend are you if you don't know it?" 

Haechan crossed his arms on his chest. "Am I seriously getting scolded on friendship values by Kim Doyoung right now? You that made her cry in the common room? You that made her rest her weapons in front of you just to see you treat her like scum? After using her? We don’t have mood rooms but we have things like hearts and mouths which we use to, you know, ask other people how they feel-" "I don't have enough patience and you know that."

Haechan breathed in and out before finally opening his lips again. "She's in the dorms. Obviously. Where the fuck would she be-"

Doyoung turned around on his heels like a tornado and walked towards the towers. 

"She doesn't want to talk to you!" Haechan told the other boy's back but he wasn't sure he heard him.

_____

She doesn't want to talk to you. 

Fuck it. 

Doyoung knew he was self-centred and he knew that your absence had something to with him but for once he really wanted to be wrong. 

Used you? You really thought Doyoung used you? When you used him and then got somebody else to touch you like that? 

Fuck, if Doyoung were in his room at that moment it would probably resemble a killing storm. 

"Hey, you can't be here," some random guy stopped him as Doyoung stepped into the Gryffindor common room. "How did you even enter-" 

"Shut the fuck up." 

Doyoung looked around, eyeing all of the different doors and chose left, venturing down the corridor, for once - and cringingly so - listening to his heart. 

Haechan was right. You didn’t have real mood rooms but he could physically feel the energy of each and one of them with his heart. 

He knew it was your door before even getting close to it, the feeling coming from it making his blood boil in his veins just like he would feel when you were around. 

With a twist of his wrist, he tried to open it but it didn't work. 

"Are you seriously trying to barge into a girl's room like that, Kim?" a scandalous voice said behind the door. 

"How did you know it was me?" Doyoung placed one palm on the wood. 

"Only you could force open a door without even knocking," you replied. "And the spell is made for you specifically, so I know."

The boy rested his forehead on the door and closed his eyes. "You were waiting for me." 

The silence on the other side made him sigh. "Open up. Let me talk to you." 

It got even quieter than before. "I wasn't waiting for you. You had no reasons to come," you finally whispered. 

Doyoung twisted his wrist and the door in front of himself vanished from his eyes. Apparently, you didn't anticipate he'd be able to use the transparency spell since you didn't even preoccupy yourself to block it and he could tell you didn't even sense it, so concentrated on your thoughts. From your perspective the door was still there and, previously leaning against it with your back, you rolled on it now and unknowingly imitated Doyoung's position, foreheads almost touching if not for the layer of old wood. 

"What do I have to say?" he asked, looking at your face. He saw how you bit your lower lip at the sound of his voice and the genuine sadness in your face made him even angrier at the whole situation. "You don't have to say anything," you finally replied. 

Doyoung's jaw muscles tensed. 

"Please, please, open this goddamn door." 

The intensity of his voice made you raise your head and your senses got sharp again, feeling the energy he put into using his spell. 

With the twist of your wrist, the door flew open and you finally saw Doyoung's face. 

"You used transparency," you suddenly looked furious. “You know you can’t do that inside the university.” "Fuck, I was," he stepped in. "What if I was naked?" "Nothing I haven't seen before." 

You rolled your eyes. "You make me so frustrated."

"I am making you frustrated? Then what about me, huh?" 

"What would you even be frustrated about if you don't even care about me? You tease me and you insult me and then you make love to me like a desperate man and then you go back to being your selfish, deprecable self. What is this? Why do you keep playing with me? Is it fun? You find it amusing to see me like this?" 

Your words completely floored him. 

"I can ask you the same thing. I can feel it inside my chest when someone else touches you and it drives me fucking insane. I made a mistake and I gave in thinking you had some feelings for me and that I wasn't just a fuck toy you could use one night and throw away." 

Your mouth fell open. 

He could feel it? He could feel you? So you did belong to him?

"This is crazy. You hid something like this from me! Now you have access to what's going on with my body without my consent!" 

"I had no idea I was in love with you, okay? It has never happened to me before. I don't want to know either when someone else eats you out! I just- you’re here hiding in your room and crying as if you have feelings for me or something when you let someone else-" he stopped. 

You looked at his reddening neck and closed eyes. 

His breath was shaky and you realized how you've never actually seen him angry or upset before. 

"No one has done anything to me, Doyoung. Unlike you, who fucked that Slytherin girl after showing me the fucking heaven. Did you do that to her as well? Sweet talk? For what? Is this your hobby? Making girls fall in love with you?" 

The boy shook his head in confusion."What are you talking about? There's no Slytherin girl."

"The one that had the urgency to see your room?" 

He pinched the base of his nose with a grunt of realization. "She helped me to figure out why my room was pitch-black and why it's currently grey with wet fucking walls."

"Oh yeah? Because to me, it looked very much red."

"You've been spying on me?"

You huffed and sat down on the bed like a child when they're found guilty but they're too proud to admit it. "You used transparency just 5 minutes ago too,” you justified yourself as if you were equal now. 

"And did you see me fuck that girl?" 

"I didn't want to actually look inside like a creep! But you were pretty much horny. The corridor got all red."

"I was thinking about you! And now I’m also thinking about you and I’ve been thinking about you all of these days and months and probably all of these fucking years since I first met you.” 

Your brain felt like mush. 

"Then you knew? You treated me like that because you liked me? Only children tease the person they like."

"I didn’t know. I had no fucking idea before. And apparently, I am a fool for not having realized before and fuck, perhaps I’m a child as well then. I’m insecure. Because I wanted you to think about me too. And perhaps you don’t even remember but I’ve tried to be nice to you before and it didn’t work. But you started to give me attention when I made you mad. It was easy and playful and I saw how you often smiled when I turned my back to you and- fuck, I got hopeful. That you’d start to feel the same.” 

“I do feel the same, for fuck’s sake! I am in love with you.”

Doyoung swallowed dryly. “Then why-” 

“It was me.” 

The boy furrowed his eyebrows. 

“That morning after I left your room I took a shower, and-,” you looked around as if trying to find the courage to say what you had to say, “- I was thinking about you, so-”

Doyoung understood before you could finish the phrase and you saw his face fall. 

“Wait, is it possible? Even if you do it?” 

You scoffed incredulously. “You’re the Slytherin here. Until a few days ago I didn’t even know you had magical spit making you feel whatever I did to my own pussy!” 

Doyoung closed his eyes and took in a deep breath as if he needed a moment.

“But I researched it when you told me about the pencil. It has to do with some weird-ass Slytherin shit where couples own each other’s bodies. Most people find it hot to know when the partner is-” you cleared your voice as it got suddenly tiny from talking about that shameful topic. 

“So no, I did not let anyone touch me. If you were smart enough you would have noticed that it didn’t happen anymore after you treated me like shit.” 

The boy looked as if his soul left his body.

The silence engulfed the whole room and you avoided each other’s eyes. 

But then it got disrupted by his movements. With slow steps, he walked the space from the middle of the room to the feet of the bed where you were sat down. 

With weak limbs, he let himself down on his knees in front of you and slowly he let his face fall into your lap. 

Your breath fell short. With trembling hands, you caressed his nape, lightly as if afraid to touch him, then his hair, patting it gently. 

“I’m sorry. I’ve been a fool this whole time. Like, I am so stupid.” His voice was muffled by your clothes and his arms wrapped your waist even more while saying it. 

“You’re the smartest person I know. But you could’ve just asked instead of assuming.”

He shook his head. “Yeah. Hey Y/N, so I can feel inside my gut that you orgasmed hard just now. Who did it? I thought you liked me.” 

He raised his head again, his hair messy on the forehead, eyes lit up by the sun coming from your big windows and violent red cheeks. He looked young and vulnerable and suddenly the whole situation seemed so ridiculous that you laughed. 

“I am sorry,” you chuckled and cupped his face. “You’re right. It was a weird situation. We should work on communication. And you should work on not being so insecure.” “You also assumed I fucked a girl just because I was talking to her.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Okay. We both have to work on that, alright?” 

He sighed relieved seeing you smile. 

“I’m sorry. I should have told you about that whole thing before. But I swear, I had no idea my feelings for you were that deep.” “Does it not work with mere crushes?” He shook his head. 

"Well, do you know what I want now? For you to obtain my forgiveness?" you asked. "Me to kiss you." You flicked his head. "You will never drop that attitude of yours, will you?" He smiled even more. "I love to see you like this."

“I want something else,” you explained. Doyoung turned his head to the side. “Me eating you out?” 

“Oh my God! No!” you tried to get away from his hold but he pushed you back on the bed and crawled beside you. “But that pussy is mine-” “Shut up!! Don’t say that ever again! You still need to apologize some more for that. Now I can’t even masturbate.” “You don’t need to masturbate if you have me.” “I fucking hate you so much.” “I love you too. So what was the thing that you wanted?” 

“It’s just-- it’s unfair. So I-- also want to know.” “You want to own my cock?” he chuckled in the crook of your neck. “Why do you really have to use such words?!”

“You can do it. You just need to go down on me too.” “Even if I’m not a slytherin?” “If you’re in love with your slytherin partner, you don’t need to be one to be tied to them like that.” “Pants off then. Now.” _____

Haechan walked through Doyoung’s room with a chuckle, trying hard to avoid all the flowers that suddenly started to grow tall until reaching the ceiling. 

With the corner of his eyes he also noticed the way all of them started to turn red and with a disgusted face, he moved faster, exiting it and closing the door behind him.

[allthewhumpygoodness]

My (kind of) entry for @sicktember prompts #1 and #11 sorta combined. Medieval fantasy-ish.

The wind bit through their layers of clothing, even where they sat huddled before the fire. The flames swayed enticingly, the hot coals below looking like a warm cave they longed to curl up in. Though at this point they figured not even that would warm their frozen bones.

"A?" They looked up and saw B watching them, concern in their eyes. "How long have you been out here?"

A shrugged, another shiver taking hold of them. "A few hours, I guess."

"Hours? A, you're clearly exhausted. Go back to your tent, I'll take watch for now."

They just shrugged again, turning back to the fire. There was an aching behind their eyes that had only worsened over the past while, as much as they longed to shut them they knew it would only be all the worse if they did. They longed to sleep, to flop over right where they sat and let their sore muscles rest for a while.

B sat down beside them with a huffing sigh. "So something's bothering you. Isn't that right?"

At this point, A was far too tired to deny it. "How can you tell?"

"You always stalk off on your own when something is wrong. You get all quiet. More quiet than usual, that is."

Normally A might have laughed. But now they were simply too exhausted for it. "I haven't been feeling my best, that's all. Nothing that important."

"How so?"

"It doesn't matter."

"A."

B was giving them a side eye. They knew it, even if they weren't looking at them. Another chill hit them, making them pull their cloak tighter around their shoulders. They coughed a little into their shoulder, not realizing until they did that there was a deep ache in their chest, spreading into their arms. "I've just been tired, chilled. I ache all over." They shot B a look. "Probably just from riding all day, I'm sure."

"Oh, to be sure." Even as A curled up tighter, resting their chin on their knees, they could feel their friend's eyes on them.

Exhaustion weighed down on their eyelids, forcing them shut. They buried their face in the folds of their cloak, allowing the darkness to soothe the aches in their head and eyes a little. Soon B would leave, they knew that. Everyone left eventually.

Sure enough, they heard the shuffle of boots, the sounds of somebody standing and walk away. Maybe it was their tiredness, but they felt tears closing up their throat. Stupid. They'd known B was going to leave. They'd known. They shouldn't have been surprised.

The wind blew harsher against them in their huddled bundle and they shivered worse than ever. Out of nowhere their face and neck felt uncomfortably hot in comparison to the icy block of the rest of their body. They pried it up from their knees and were hit with a wave of dizziness. Maybe B was right, and they should just go back to their tent.

Another repeated thud of footsteps came up behind them and they turned, wincing as the dizziness worsened.

"Here you go. How long has it been since you've eaten?" A blinked. It took them a moment to make sense of that they were seeing - B, standing over them with a bowl of steaming soup in their hands.

"You came back," they said blankly. They'd thought...

B shrugged. "Of course I did. What, did you expect me to leave you here by yourself?"

They didn't answer that. "I just didn't...thanks, B."

"Not a problem."

A's heart warmed a little just at the feeling of them sitting down beside them again. They hadn't been abandoned. Not yet.

The soup warmed them too. It was a good, strong broth with some herbs and bits of meat, but not much else. Which didn't bother them much - they hadn't been hungry in a while. But the warmth of it was nonetheless comforting. They sat and sipped, the soothing heat of the soup and the fire lulling them from the inside out. They almost could forget how sore their head and tired muscles were, and how the world spun when they turned their head too suddenly.

Halfway through the bowl they couldn't make themselves eat anymore. Their body felt weighted to the ground; if they didn't have to move for a hundred years they would have been happy. When the half empty bowl of soup almost slid from their grasp for a third time, they felt a firm but gentle hand on their arm. "Come on, you're dead on your feet. Let's get you back into your tent."

This time, A didn't bother to protest. They let B pull them to their feet, one arm around their still trembling shoulders. The ground swooped out from underneath them and they stumbled, swaying against their friend.

They heard B chuckle. "Watch yourself, A. You must really be exhausted."

Responding took too much effort. Instead they let their head flop against B's shoulder as another wave of dizziness tugged at them. The camp torches eventually faded from their sight as they approached the wooded area that held most of the tents. By the time they reached their own they were shivering worse than ever, their head pounding in time with their heart. If they didn't lie down soon they really would collapse.

The next few minutes were a bit of a blur, but they could hear B's cheerful voice talking away as they helped A into bed, even helping them pull off their boots and tossing every blanket they possessed on top of them. It was a little better in there, warmer yet darker, and lying flat made their head stop spinning, even if there was only a light mat separating them from the hard ground beneath.

"Get some sleep," said their friend's voice from somewhere above them. "I'll take your watch."

It wasn't long before they slipped into an uneasy sleep, disturbed by dreams that flitted around half formed until they could no longer tell if they were dreams or not. They opened their eyes a crack, still half asleep, and saw a dark thread on the wall of their tent...the thread became a spider creeping slowly towards them, they jerked back but instead of waking up the spiders only bored into their dreams, speaking to them with evil voices. Then they were struck by lightning and frozen in place, all their muscles taut and rigid, unable to move, unable to breathe, everything aching...a dark shape rose up above them until it was too big to see, stretching all around the tent, it reached down and grabbed them...

This time they sprang awake with a cry, scrambling backward away from the terrible shadow fingers that reached out for them. They couldn't breathe, their head was pounding, surely they were going to die...

"A," said a half familiar voice. "Hey, A, it's just me. Breathe."

They tried. In an instant they started coughing, their chest sore and ragged. A pair of strong hands held their shoulders, rubbing gently. "You're all right. Deep breaths now, I just need you to breathe."

A slumped against B's shoulder, worn down completely, their breath shuddering in their chest. Their limbs burned and froze and shook all at once, the ground beneath them tilting horribly. They felt themselves being laid down again, grasping out for their pillow. B's voice remained in their ears, gentle and comforting.

A second voice joined theirs. "Are they all right?"

A hand brushed their forehead. "They've got a fever, trouble breathing..."

"The poor thing..."

"Please don't go," A said hoarsely, suddenly terrified. Their eyes cracked open a sliver, B and now C too blurred in their vision. "I - I don't want to be alone."

"Of course not." B brushed the hair out of their face. "You're going to be just fine, we'll take good care of you."

Their eyes burned, head aching terribly. They could hear shuffling, the hushed voices of B and C and others from the camp in the background - probably talking about them, their overtired brain finally caught up enough to realize.

"Don't help me." It took them a second to tell they'd spoken out loud, but once they began they found it hard to stop. "Don't, I'm just a burden to you...please leave me be."

C's gentle voice was close to them now. "I thought you just said you didn't want to be alone?"

"They're mostly delirious, C." That was B. "Don't pay attention, just wait with them while I try and get my hands on some medicine."

A slid into a half sleep, imagining shadowy fingers creeping up their shoulder and voices whispering in their ear. Their eyes snapped open once, heart racing, but all they saw was the dim light of a candle and C's anxious face above them. Whimpering a little, they curled over on their other side, fighting to ignore the spinning in their head and the sickening ache in their joints. Everything was too much.

For a while it remained too much; no matter how much they tossed and turned they could not get comfortable, sore muscles and chills beating them down the worst. B returned with a spoonful of some bitter herbs that they managed to coax down A's throat despite their protests, which did nothing but leave a sour feeling in their stomach. They could not tell whether it was day or night anymore, all they knew was that they longed to sleep and couldn't seem to no matter what, and could not escape the pain that encircled them.

Their friends' faces merged with each other, and other faces they'd known long ago and thought to have forgotten, sometimes they thought they cried out for people no longer alive but in the small part of their mind that was still lucid hoped very much against it.

Once they woke up with a cry of fear from a nightmare that was already fading away, but the terror still clung to them. They shivered violently in the dark, limbs and head burning, until they felt another blanket go around them and C's voice shushing them and telling them to go back to sleep.

It continued on like that for a while. There were times when they were fully awake, but those times only meant they could feel the full effects of their illness, and they found themselves craving sleep when they came. B or C sat with them most times, but sometimes others would poke their heads into the tent to see how they're doing, sitting with them and making jokes in an effort to cheer them up, or just bringing them a bowl of soup when they hadn't eaten in a while. They never realized so many people cared about them.

Finally, one day they woke up to find their head was no longer pounding, their limbs still horribly stiff but not quite as sore as they had been. With weary eyes they looked automatically to the side of their cot and once again saw B sitting there, one hand laid gently on the top of their head. "You're awake, I see. Feeling any better?"

The hand in their hair was soothing. "A little," they answered croakily. "Did - did C come in too, or was that a dream?"

B chuckled. "Half the camp visited you at some point. They were all very concerned, did you expect them not to be?"

A lump rose unexpectedly in their throat. "I - I guess I did expect that."

B sighed. "A, we care about you. All of us care about you. How many times can we say it? Or show it?"

A was too tired to halt the tears that slipped from their eyes. "I'm sorry," they muttered, "I'm just...not used to people caring very much."

"Well, get used to it. You don't have to do this all by yourself, A."

It was too hard to stop the tears now, so they let them fall and curled up tighter under their blankets. They still weren't sure how much control they'd have over what words came out of their mouth, so they kept it shut for the time being, and tried to think of nothing but B's careful hand running through their hair. They had friends. They had a family.

It was almost too much.

But in a good way.

[seijorhi]

If you have the time and feel like it, I'd love to read anything from you about Shigaraki/Reader. (Or maybe Shinsou??)The first thing that came to my mind was something involving chikan but anything that you can come up with is totally good with me as well!!!! Love your writing!!!

This is like months late I am so sorry, bby!! But I hope it’s okay? 🥺

Shigaraki Tomura x Female Reader

TW chikan, non-con, nsfw

Dirty

Staring isn’t a crime. 

It’s the mantra you kept repeating to yourself as more and more passengers slowly filed in. There is nothing wrong. You’re being paranoid.

Staring isn’t a crime, but you’d feel a whole hell of a lot more comfortable if the pair of red eyes boring into you from across the train carriage weren’t accompanied by a creepy, wide grin.

You tell yourself that you’re imagining things, that you’ve read one too many shoujo mangas, because the silvery haired stranger in his ratty oversized hoodie just happens to be facing your general direction, so of course it feels like he’s staring. It doesn’t stop you from trying to tug down the hem of your skirt.

Except when the tiny hairs on the back of your neck stand on end and you decide to bite the bullet and scamper across to the other side of the carriage under the guise of getting off, the stranger follows. 

He’s only staring. You’ve heard about men who like to scare girls on public transport, how they… get off on it. But the stranger seems content just to watch. There’s a Nintendo switch sticking out of his hoodie pocket, but in the fifteen minutes you’ve been riding together, he hasn’t made a move to touch it - while everybody else on the carriage is either sleeping, reading or absorbed in their phones, the stranger’s attention is fixed entirely on you.

He’s enjoying it, you think - your discomfort. The way you shift and try to subtly curl in on yourself, hiding behind other passengers, how your eyes keep darting up to see if he’s still watching (he is) before shifting your attention back to the phone in your hands. Should you text somebody? Your best friend, maybe? And say what exactly, ‘help, there’s a creepy looking guy staring at me on the train, please come get me?’

There were at least twenty other people on the carriage with you, and not one of them has noticed the silver haired man staring at you - or if they have, they’ve promptly dismissed it as nothing to concern themselves with. You’re working yourself up over nothing - he’s only doing it trying to get a reaction out of you.  

You don’t want to cause a fuss over nothing.

Breathing deeply, you decide to simply not give him the satisfaction, turning your back on him to face out the window by the doors instead. You still have another twenty minutes left of the ride until you reach your stop, with any luck he’ll lose interest soon enough.

At the next station, the doors slide open and a swarm of commuters flood into the carriage. You’re bumped and brushed past, jostled about as more and more passengers try to fit onboard - it’s uncomfortable, but for once you find yourself grateful for the teeming crowds. With enough people squished between you and the pale, hoodie-clad stranger, you comfort yourself with the knowledge that he’s probably lost sight of you (or at least the parts of you he’s interested in leering at) and allow yourself to breathe and just relax-

Until a sudden jolt of the carriage sends you reeling into the chest of the commuter behind you. 

On instinct you turn your head to glance over your shoulder, apologies ready on the tip of your tongue,  only for them to turn to ash in your mouth as you meet bloodshot vermillion eyes and a wide, unsettling grin.

“Whoops,” he chuckles, the sound dry and rasping, like nails raking down a chalkboard. “Better be careful, now. Don’t wanna hurt yourself.”

Your breath catches and you still, but there’s no room for you to move as pale, spindly fingers creep across your waist, sliding down the pleated fabric of your skirt. A tiny whimper, lost almost immediately to the droning hum of the carriage as it jolts along the tracks, escapes as rough fingertips graze the top of your thigh, dragging your skirt upwards in search of another prize. You feel the chest pressed against your back rumble with another laugh, dry, chapped, lips dragging possessively against the curve of your neck, and a deep, shuddering inhale.

(Is he sniffing your hair?!)

“You might wanna hold onto something, princess,” the stranger jeers. Goosebumps prickle at your skin, a deep, unsettling pit growing in your stomach. This isn’t staring - this isn’t harmless anymore.

He’s got you caged between his body and the doors, one arm shot out over your shoulder to brace himself, the other creeping up towards your panties with agonising slowness. There’s nowhere to go, but for the life of you, you don’t know why you can’t seem to make a sound. Your legs are quaking, heart thumping unsteadily as long digits probe at your panty covered sex, dragging teasingly against the outline of your slit. All it would take is a shout, a yell, and somebody would intervene - packed train or not - but despite the icy fear seeping into your veins, the rising panic as your pretty lace panties are yanked to the side, your cries are caught in your throat.

Your cheeks burn with humiliation as long digits roughly slither between your plush pussy lips. You’re not wet - how could you be? - but that doesn’t seem to bother the man violating you, not as those same fingers greedily tease at your hole for a split second before they plunge inside of you, his thumb rubbing at your crude circles around your clit like it’s a joystick. You wonder if anyone has noticed the hitch in your breath, the soft, whimpering whine that you can’t quite hold back as he fucks you on his fingers, stretching you out. Facing out the window, there’s nobody to see the tears that spill down your cheeks, the way your features contorts in pain - and something else - as his fingertips press and drag along your warm, tight cunny walls.

There’s no rhythm or technique as he roughly mashes his palm against your sex, but suddenly it’s not so much an effort to speak out as it is to smother your own noises - the thought of somebody catching you like this, seeing him finger fuck you in on a crowded, public train in the middle of the day making you want to curl up and disappear entirely.

His fingers are stuffed deep inside of your pussy, fucking you in earnest, it doesn’t matter if you were willing or not, you let him get this far without so much as a peep. Who’s going to believe that you didn’t want this, weren’t silently begging for it - that with every flick of his wrist this stranger is raping you in broad daylight in the middle of a crowded train?

You bite down on your bottom lip, hands clenching into pathetic fists at your side as the man behind you moans and grunts in your ear. There’s something hard and warm pressed against your ass - it takes you a moment to realise that it’s his cock, and his hips are rutting eagerly against your backside. 

His panting breath tickles at your neck, “Gettin’ all nice ‘n wet, such a good little slut. You -hah- you enjoying this, princess?”

Revulsion rises like a wave, crashing through you, but you can’t deny the building slick you feel easing his passage - your cunt is all but drooling around his fingers. You can’t bear to look around to see if any of the other passengers have noticed, if they can hear the lewd sounds of him fingering you like a man possessed.

Your forehead falls against the cool, glass window, your eyes squeezing shut as more tears fall. It doesn’t make a difference, you can’t disappear into your mind and pretend that this isn’t happening, he’s making sure of it. His hips are grinding faster against the swell of your ass, his fingers picking up their pace in response. It’s like he wants you to cum with him, and when a third finger slips inside of you, crooks and slams against that sweet spot that has you gasping, you know that it’s not far off. 

“Tomura,” he pants desperately into your ear as he ruts up against you like a beast in heat, “Fuck! My n-name is Tomura.”

You don’t know why he’s telling you. Does he think you’ll cry it out as his thumb swipes messily at your clit and your tight cunny walls unwittingly squeeze down on his fingers? Or does he just want you to know the name of the stranger about to make you cum in a train full of strangers.

You don’t have time to ponder the question, not as his teeth sink into the tender skin of your neck to muffle his growls and his fingers speed up, that tight coil of heat in your core pulling taut and snapping as unwanted pleasure explodes like fireworks, overwhelming your system as you convulse and shudder around him. 

Your vision goes white, a strangled sound somewhere between a sob and a moan leaves your lips.

Tomura snarls, riding out his own orgasm, warm cum spurting into his jeans as he all but collapses against you. For a moment, you two stay like that, his sweaty, larger frame draped over yours, his chest heaving, hand still caught up beneath your skirt.

In the wake of your climax, shame and humiliation rear their ugly heads. You came, you enjoyed it, your own violation. No amount of reassurance that it’s just your body's natural reaction to stimuli can stop the rising disgust that surges through you so violently it threatens to choke you. You feel dirty - filthy and used - especially with Tomura’s face nuzzled in your neck, his tongue laving at your flushed skin, the blood welling from his overzealous bite.

His hand slides out of your underwear, using your skirt to wipe off the syrupy wetness that clings to his digits. You stomach churns in response as the train pulls up alongside the station platform, passengers once again jostling as they prepare to disembark. Even now you can’t force yourself to move, can’t shove him away like you so desperately want to.

You’re pathetic. 

He sighs contentedly, chapped lips curling into a smirk as the voice over the p.a announces the incoming stop. If Tomura notices the tears that wet your cheeks, your shoulders shaking with quiet sobs, he doesn't pass comment, choosing instead to press a sickeningly sweet kiss to your temple as the train slows down to a halt.

“That was real fun, Y/N,” he coos gleefully. “We should do it again some time.”

And then he’s gone, disappearing into the crowd of exiting passengers, and your trembling legs finally give out.

[darkh3llscap3]

Twisted Love (part one)

Yandere! Harry Styles x Reader

Summary’s: When Y/n and her ex meet again he can't help but want her back. Now he's going to try anything to make her his again... even if she doesn't feel the same.

Warnings: Cheating, possessiveness, ANGST, cursing, attempted gas lighting. 

A/n- This one is actually a story I first uploaded to Wattpad but later took off because I didn’t get too many reads. This is definitely one of my favorite pieces I’ve worked on I already have 3 other parts ready to be uploaded just let me know if you would like to see more of this story.

General Masterlist

H.S Masterlist

Part 2>>>

Part 3>>>

I remember his rosy cherry lips that could grab anyone's attention from miles away, his bouncy brown curls that casually hung from his head and that swayed anytime he moved. He always managed things without even trying, like looking so calm in tense moments, the way he hid secrets behind his green eyes. I remember the way they looked at me when we first met... I wish we still had that kind of love, but it's hard to forgive as it is to forget.

He was mine and I was his. We were happy we went out with each other and when we were a few months into the relationship he moved in with me since our jobs were closer to my house. Days passed and we got closer, but suddenly he seemed remorseful. It made me feel scared. Scared that maybe he found someone new and wanted to break up with me. He just seemed so guilty making me think the worse. If I'm being honest, it made me sad, I loved him more than anything...

But one day I could hear him on the phone talking to someone in hushed whispers. I thought it was his friend or maybe one of his relatives. However with the way he was talking to them I realized it wasn't, but I really wish it was.

He had excused himself from our movie night, he was always so polite even with the little things. Whomever he was talking to had made him very frustrated. You could see it with the way he started rubbing his face. I got up to see what was going on and what he said broke my heart.

"It was a mistake please leave us alone." His voice was quiet but you could hear the anger present in it. I wanted to know what he was talking about and I know if I asked him about it he'd change the subject.

"We were drunk most of that night. If I wasn't intoxicated I wouldn't have done it so, please stop talking about it ." He pleaded though the phone almost begging for them to let it go.

"No, that's not true because I was being careless I love her and never would have slept with you, just let it go. You promised you would." Hos voice was weak and pleading his eyes looked on the verge of tears. I couldn't breath. Everything felt so clear, he isn't acting himself lately because he was guilty because he cheated on me. He slept with someone else.

My eyes stung and my vision became blurry as I tried to ignore the tight feeling welling up in my stomach. Hot tears fell down my cheeks making my shaky hands go up to wipe them to not avail. An empty feeling took its place in my chest, making me feel worse. The pain was harsh and felt like somebody knocked the air out of me. I saw his head turn towards me, his face held a look of shock he immediately hung up. I started involuntarily backing away from him feelings like I couldn't face his puppy dog green eyes.

"Baby, I can explain." He came closer to me making me take more steps back. This made him stop dead in his tracks. A look of hurt covered his face as he waited for my response.

"Then explain." I simply said trying to cover up my pathetic emotions. He didn't say anything just stared at me blankly. I let out an amused laugh "Now you can't talk huh?" I laughed again.

"I'm sorry, I l-love you." He said, his body touched mine as his warmth surrounded me in his tight embrace. I put my head snuggled against his chest, his button up absorbing the tears.

"You cheated on me didn't you?" I asked and his body seemed to stiffen next to mine. I could hear the inhale he took before speaking.

"Yes, but I was drunk and she means nothing to me I promise. It was a stupid mistake, a stupid mistake that means nothing and we shouldn't let it ruin our relationship." I pushed him away from me causing him to stumble back a little.

"Don't you understand Harry, you still cheated, you still broke my heart. It doesn't fucking matter if she meant anything to you or not. She was obviously worth putting your dick in and ruining our relationship for." I screamed at him. I felt alive with emotion the energy from it dancing around my skin like electricity. He just looked frustrated like a child that was denied something.

"What are you telling me that you've never thought about anybody else while we've been together?" I scoffed at him. Is he serious right now?

"No, I haven't Harry because I love you and even if I did, thinking about someone is so much more different than actually going out and fucking them." I felt so stupid falling for him in the first place. I took a quick breath in my heart beating fast hoping I don't regret this. "You know what we're breaking up, I don't think I can be with someone who cheats on me and then gets mad at me for it." I wiped my wet cheek looking straight at him. A numbing feeling exploded though my body.

"N-no, no, no, you can't leave me you're mine, you said you'd never leave." His voice broke at the end of his sentence like how he broke my heart. I wanted him to hug me and tell me everything's okay and that this was just a cruel joke.

"You said you would always be truthful, I guess we both broke our promises." My face held no emotion and I know he could tell. "You ruined us by sleeping with her, Harry." I pointed between the both of us. "You can't blame anyone but yourself. Please just leave." I felt his hands come around my waist mimicking the position we were in earlier. Held held onto me like I was his life line. His face in my neck making me feel wetness spread along my skin as he rubbed hisbfave against.

"Don't do this. If you leave me I won't survive please." I struggle in his arms making me even more angry. My hands go to his chest and give a shove. He staggers back with his head hung low and face red and puffy.

"I said leave Harry. You can get your stuff Friday when I'm not busy." I open the door for him and guester him out.

"So I guess this is the end then." He stops before he passes me. "I will always love you. I'll wait the rest of my life to have you again if that's what it takes." He gives me one last look likes he's trying to memorize anything he can.

He leaves the beating of my heart drowning out his footsteps and then the door slams shut...

[reikunrei]

OKAY UUUH i need to put my thoughts about the final stroke p1 here right here right now fresh hot of the press i just finished watching this shit less than 30 seconds ago let’s gooooo

anyway just a precursor like. none of this is going to make sense bc ive only watched it once so i dont remember everything (barely remember anything from road to the world which i probably should’ve watched again before this bc they would like mention things and i’d just be there like ?????? wha??? but ANYWAY)

these are also going to be very disjointed and not following the order of scenes bc im hgdfjk my brain is going 1000000 mph

god like the first half of it is so fun and just like. really just diving back into the whole FEELING of the series. like everyone just being friends, having fun, talking about swimming, swimming together

i can’t tell you how happy i am that we got to see the entirety of haru, rin, AND ikuya’s races like. i’d gotten so used to like. just seeing haru’s or just seeing rin’s and then it just cutting to like the results of the other or w/e, so i love love love that we got some devoted time to all of them inn sydney

also going insane over the like. makoto seeing himself trying to reach haru and just not being able to at all no matter how hard he tries

and how haru in that vision is all sad and lonely like how haru is becoming based on the events of the end of the film

AND LIKE LIKE

LIKE HARU HAS PEOPLE who want to help him and be close to him and love and cherish him and want him to succeed

even after his filter went completely down and he said THAT to rin, rin walked off and was like “of course i still care” or w/e like... even HE can’t be all that mad at haru, at least not in any real long-term sense

i still feel like the video interview things at the beginning are gonna be what wakes haru up out of this stupor. i want that so bad. like why else would THOSE be the opening scene of the movie like come ON

i want haru to go back somewhere, like to the high school or SOMETHING, or maybe somebody forces him to watch them, and he sees how much people love and care about him by stumbling across those tapes

god the albert possession fucks me up tho. i thought it was gonna be mostly silly and like. kinda cringe. but man. it was fucked UP it HURTS. i think it mostly had to do w shimazaki’s performance, i always forget how much i love him as haru and he does a REALLY good job stretching haru’s character to really make him unhinged when he’s so normally quiet and borderline monotone. like haru isn’t a flat character by any means, but he’s not very expressive either, so to see shimazaki get to flex those muscles in this role is SUPER nice

the scene where haru almost fell down the stairs fucked me up too LMAO i was like oh shit he REALLY fucked himself up he is not himself at ALL

and to see that just keep happening

everyone in this show has abandonment issues god

i am going crazy oh my god okay

and just. to see him going even farther down that rabbit hole. feeling like everyone is going to leave him. like makoto left before he got to say whatever motivational quip he was going to say, and then rin drops it in his lap that both he AND ikuya are not goinng to be swimming free at the next tournament, and like........ man just realized how that reminds me of when makoto just dropped in his lap that he had decided to go to tokyo

even when makoto walked away to go back home it mirrored exactly that scene in s2 when haru leaves makoto standing there...... ugh my heart

ANYWAY

i am super fucked up and also pissed off at ryuji!!!! like. i dont think ive ever disliked him as much as other people do, like he’s just a grouchy old man and haru was listening to him, but also pushing back against him and keeping him somewhat in his lane

and it was really nice to see haru so adamantly be like “im not giving anything up” in this movie like. and how that sparked something in ryuji. but now at the end when haru was like “yeah im ready to give everything up” ........ i really hope ryuji also plays a part in getting haru to wake up? bc it’ll also be an interesting wake-up for ryuji himself?

he is such an asshole tho hsgdfjgk i do love how they put scenes back to back of haru x ryuji, rin x mikhail, and ikuya x natsuya, and even throw in there makoto x nao x sousuke! like, we got to see the swimmer/coach dynamic between all of them and got to see how NOT GOOD ryuji is in comparison to all of them lmao. like sure being analytical is good, but damn give the kid some room to breathe LMAO

and god. i do love albert. he’s such a weird scary motherfucker but god god god i’m so intrigued by this weird fucked up dynamic he has with his coach? or whoever he is? im not even really sure. but like. he’s living his dream through albert rather than letting albert be his own person. but then it’s interesting bc haru (and everyone else) sees albert as this big scary foreboding guy. which like, he is, but i think they all have a twisted view of him? like they see him as this powerhouse and NOTHING else

i think haru has seen albert interacting w other people in his entourage and like. seen some weird dynamics between them? but it’s all very behind-doors right now, so like. everyone sees him as a “villain” for lack of a better word, when albert really just wants to swim and like. be normal? like i don’t think his words of “i want to be stronger” are truly his

i really really really would love to see albert tie into haru’s awakening more. like, after haru gives up his relationships bc we all know at this point that that’s 100% for sure what he’s gonna do, i feel like. like maybe he will have a better performance, but it’s just so Not Him that he’s not even a worthy opponent? and then albert gets fucked up about it and is like “man what happened, this isn’t good at all, what did you do to yourself?”

like. right now haru is trying to be more like albert, but i think albert is trying to be more like haru

unless im like. totally misreading everything about his character, but im thinking of like. s3 and rttw, with him hanging out with haru, his “the water favors you” quote, him getting excited when he saw haru doing really well in his race while he was like. getting his drive from his friends and whatnot. like!!! i really feel like it could be a fun little switcharoo to do!!!

god. that’s my biggest thing rn, i love the dynamic between haru and albert and how there’s this friction within both of their characters as they try to become like one another

ugh god okay i need to stop bc. i have work tomorrow and need to go to bed ghsfdjk im sure i’ll have more thoughts and write more as i mull over the movie more, and maybe watch it again next weekend, but ugh. holy shit

holy. fucking. shit

i can’t wait for part 2

overall im super pleased with the movie. i was worried i really wouldn’t like it, but they did a very very good job and like. kept it really grounded to its roots and the original dynamics and bonds, while also having a TON of really good stuff with new dynamics (ie. rin and ikuya, makoto and sousuke, etc.)

[shiversdownyerspine]

10. Douse

Still alive and kickin, I can’t be stopped!

18+

Expected to be set back on your feet as Axel reaches your screen door, you feel your face flush when you realize he fully intends to carry you out like this in front of his brothers.

At the sound of the handle turning with a creak, you promptly start flailing.

"Axel I can walk, you know I can walk! Let me down!"

Your cries falls on deaf ears. The relentless man releases the door handle to adjust his grip; the hand on your thigh slides higher, taking your dress with it, while his other grabs the back of your knee. Thrashing reduced to a much more controllable wiggling, he kicks the door open and steps into the sunlight.

Squirming and praying your rear is still covered, you try a different angle, "I will answer any questions you have about my Phase, I promise!"

That brings him to a stop. You brace your hands as close to his shoulders as you can and push off, shoving yourself backwards to his front.

With a gasp you slide down his chest as his hand cups your side to steady your quick descent. Your bare feet lightly pat atop the stone of the patio. The oh so cold wet stone.

Jolting at the chill, you look around the watery murder scene before turning your attention to the two culprits standing face to face like they're in some sort of showdown; Otto and Oscar, to their credit, have pristine feet. But at the cost of becoming drowned rats. 

You hold back laughter, but allow a wide smile. Their hair is an utter mess.

Otto and Oscar are ripped from their stalemate at the sound of your voice, "I'm sorry to say, but you're going to have to put your water war on pause. We should get this started before the weather takes a turn." 

Your next sentence you mutter just loud enough, "That and before a certain somebody gets impatient. And tries to carry people again."

The hand still at your side gives a soft warning squeeze that has you quickly scurrying over in the direction of your patio furniture before he can grab you up. You're not going to take any chances, you'd like to keep your feet on the ground thank you very much.

The younger brothers glance up at the sky to see rain clouds on the horizon. They wander closer to the cottage as you check and make sure the flower bushes close to ground zero haven't been completely flooded. Otto rewraps the hose as Oscar tries to squeeze out as much water as he can from his sweater. After securing the coils back on the hook, Otto slumps down in one of your wooden chairs. Sliding the messy locks of his hair out of his face, he gives Oscar the stink eye as his brother flops even more gracelessly down in the matching chair next to him.

Oscar pauses, taking a closer look at what you're wearing, and smacks Otto's elbow with the back of his hand. Otto glares at his sibling before his attention is directed to you. Admiration lightly flushes the large man's cheeks as Oscar grins at his reaction. Your usual wear is adorable, but they would kill to see you in something light and flowy like this again...and judging from the possessive hand Axel has rested at your back after he makes his way to you, he approves as well.

Trying not to focus entirely on the warmth of the eldest brother's hand, you step carefully to the wooden bench sitting adjacent to the chairs. Taking a seat, your feet lift quickly from the chilly shallow lake below as Axel follows close behind you. 

Sitting beside you, the man pulls your knife from his pocket, and begins with a simple, "Explain this."

Your eyes flash stubbornly. Did he really think you were going to make this easy for him? After his earlier stunt? Right.

As innocently as you can, you reply, "Axel that's a paring knife. You cook, you should really know this."

Oscar chokes his laugh down as Otto clears his throat. Unbeknownst to the two of you, the younger brothers had actually been locked in water combat for only a short time; earlier on Otto had gotten distracted by you and Axel, and Oscar had noticed where his tallest brother's attention had been directed. You both have had a captive audience pretty much the entire time.

At least until Axel had made his way over to the screen door with you tossed over his shoulder. Oscar had immediately grabbed the hose and did what he had to do to hide any sign of their guilty observation and eavesdropping. Otto hadn't been amused, but he begrudgingly understood that they may have needed some sort of alibi.

Axel's nostrils flare, his eyes narrowing as he thumbs along the blade.

He drawls, "What do you do with it."

Keeping a straight face is becoming a bit difficult. He is making this too much fun for you.

With slight confusion you reply, "...It's...it's in the name."

The silence from Axel nearly breaks Oscar. Otto has his poker face on and appears unaffected by your antics, but the mirth in his eyes tells a different story.

As for Axel? He betrays almost nothing, maybe a mild frustration at best. But his brothers would bet money that their older sibling is resisting some rather...lustful urges right now. Your teasing bothers the eldest in the worst way...or maybe the best.

Your eyes fall to the knife in Axel's hand. Might as well get this show on the road.

"...But yes, I do use it differently. I use it as an aid for my ability. When I want to change into my Phase, that knife provides me with a method that gives me the most control. If I vary the depth of the cut, I can adjust the time I spend in my Phase."

Oscar glances at the little unassuming tool before asking, "Change for what?"

You shift on the bench, getting a little more comfortable.

"Well. When I first started living here, my forest and lake were in pretty poor condition. Garbage and filth had been left sitting for years, which meant the soil was being smothered by water that couldn't drain the way it needed to. Because of the waterlogging, many of the trees developed root rot."

Cocking your head to the side, you recall the information provided by your environment books. You had spent countless hours reading and notetaking, determined to restore your childhood home.

"Root rot isn't the most dangerous thing, but it can be tricky to identify in its early stages. A little less than half of the pines were infected, a good amount too far gone. Their root systems had basically been turned to mush."

You worried for a moment you were boring the three who may have been expecting something more thrilling, but they appeared to be listening quite intently. They had mentioned hunting and fishing in their lives, so you'd have to remember these three weren't just assassins, they were woodsmen. Maybe this was right up their alley?

"So! The biggest problem I had at the end of the day, was identifying pines in early stages of rot. Not to mention a lack of tools to do so. But I knew that my ability affected my senses, and thought maybe I could use that."

Otto murmurs, "Better senses?"

You pause, "...Yes and no. Um...take my eyesight for example, my night vision. My eyes are better at night but are more sensitive to light, kind of like..an owl's. So in that aspect, it's situational. Better at night, weaker in the day. If there is anything I can call 'better' outright, it'd be my hearing and balance. But not by much."

Fidgeting with the hem of your dress, you fight back bashfulness at talking about a part of your ability that is particularly...bestial.

"When I was in my forest in my Phase, I..was using smell. Normally you smell root rot from the soil, it'll be bad...swampy. But with time and practice, I could smell the rot itself. I can't really describe it other than it's very...heavy."

Decay in particular stood out to you; a combination of sharp and dark, old and new and lost. You count yourself very lucky that you had no urges to consume those types of things, given the peculiar animalness of your ability.

"So, that's what I use my knife for."

You lean against the side of the bench, folding your arms over your belly as you think. There was something else...

"Oh right! You wanted to know um...why I didn't attack you three the first time? To put it simply, instinct plays a part in what I choose to perceive as a threat when I'm in my Phase. It's...decently reliable."

Otto shifts, grimacing at the wet feel of his long johns sticking to his skin, before asking, "To you, not a threat?"

A soft sigh leaves your lips, "I haven't really been in many dangerous situations in my life. But uh...when you three caught me...there was no sinking, overpowering, awful sensation. It was quiet. I was really nervous, definitely, but it felt like...I could wait? So I did."

You smile a little, "Besides, my healing gives me a little more wiggle room in terms of patience."

Oscar shuffling in his seat draws your attention; he does not appear to be happily enduring the texture of his soaked turtleneck, and his frustration is mounting. Refusing to be trapped and uncomfortable any longer, he slips his suspenders off his shoulders and drags the article of clothing up and off his body.

With flushed cheeks, you watch him drop the sweater onto the arm of his chair and relax half-naked in his seat. You try to distract yourself from the handsome man, to rip your eyes away before you're caught.

You succeed, much to your relief. Only that relief is temporary as your eyes land on Otto, whose clinging long johns have been rendered nearly see-through and what were you talking about again?

When Oscar returns his attention to you to see you tense and cheeks practically glowing with your gaze riveted to your knees, he smirks. Oh sweetheart, you can look if you want, they won't bite.

Well. Not too hard at least.

Besides, they've all been looking at you for quite some time. Not to mention having some not very polite daydreams involving you. Do you think of them too? Of their hands and mouths on you, fingers and tongues inside of you, bodies pressed tight against yours?

Curiously, he looks to Axel, whose interest is still on the knife...except its not, not at all. He's watching you, eyes half-lidded with a wicked spark glimmering in their depths. He'd seen your reactions, and if Oscar had to guess, was having some more indecent thoughts of you right now.

You're trying to convince yourself that the burning gazes you feel are simply the brothers thinking of questions...but if that's all it is, why do you feel so naked?

You squirm; it's probably just in your head, but you can't bring yourself to look up and meet their eyes just yet. You need something to keep the ball rolling, before this silence stretches on for too long.

Well...there is something that's been on your mind lately...

"...If..If you don't mind me asking you all a question?"

That seems to break the trance they were in, curiosity pushing through.

Axel encourages, "Go on."

You approach the question gingerly, "Alright..so doing the work that you do...I'd imagine one of your stronger instincts would be protecting yourselves and each other. Avoid hesitation...shoot first ask questions later? And...well?.....you all saw some..weird...woman?..animal?!?..looking thing! With glowing eyes, like something out of a nightmare. Why did you let me live?"

The silence and quiet shifting of their bodies that follows your question is enough to draw your eyes up from your knees.

The brothers had their gazes fixed on you, but after they have processed your inquiry, they falter. Oscar and Otto look to Axel, to you, and to each other. You watch them under your lashes the entire time, a little surprised to see them so...unsure. Axel had settled against the back of the seat, thinking. He seemed far away, lost in old memory. 

Otto keeps his eyes trained on his hands where they rest...were his ears a bit red? 

He mutters something and his brothers look to him in mild surprise.

He clears his throat and tries again, carefully, "Not..night hag...dream? You are...story?"

Scowling with frustration, Otto sighs, "Jävla engelska."

Oscar elaborates, "From fairytale."

Their admission brings back bittersweet memories.

Content to reminisce, yet a little forlorn, your eyes fall to the water that has submerged the stone floor of your patio.

"You know. When I first discovered what I was..or..what I wasn't?..the very first thing I did was grab any fairytale books I could find. Folklore, myths and legends, anything. We didn't have a very good collection though, and many were basically the same stories, but I had to be sure. In the end, there wasn't anything really like me in them. Of course."

It had been disheartening. You had been so naive; you had thought that maybe you could have found some kind of answer or reason for being the way you were, some kind of history or even family. Myths and tales had to come from somewhere, right? Hold some speck of truth.

Wanting to do something about the soft, sad expression on your face, Oscar lightheartedly teases, "Werewolf?"

It works.

Biting your lip, a grin slips through with a giggle, "I considered maybe something like that, but since there was no..changing under a full moon, I crossed it off the list."

You fidget, a little sheepish as you admit, "I still read any new fairytale books I can find in town. I'm not exactly looking for anything anymore, but...well, habit is habit I suppose."

Every once in a while you'd pull a book from the small collection locked away in your bedroom to read as you were winding down for the night. That or to pass the time as your condition played Keep Away with your sleep.

Axel finally drifts out of the past to join in, "We were told stories in childhood. Women with tails, or hooves. Forest spirits."

Otto hums, "Skogsrå or Huldran."

Oscar grins, "Forest maiden."

When all three had laid eyes on you, they had to fight back the initial knee-jerk reaction that they had encountered a real mythical creature. After the three had retired to their guest room to regroup, a dazed Otto just sat on the bed and stared into nothing while Oscar had jokingly asked if they could keep you. 

Half-jokingly.

Their curiosity about you had been...exceptional, but they still had manners they needed to mind. Drowning you in personal questions for hours and hours on end was too boorish, their mother had taught them better. They wouldn't subject their polite little hostess to such disrespect.

With a smile you say, "No tails or hooves here, just feathers and scales. And claws."

A ripple breaking the calm surface of water surrounding the bench has you peering up to an overcast sky. Maybe it would have been better to stay inside after all, but a light drizzle never hurt anyone. You can count yourself lucky that cold water doesn't bother your condition all that much...unless it's a cold season downpour.

The brothers look to your hands, recalling the new information you had revealed to Otto about your victim. 

Axel leans in, "Tell us about claws."

You hesitate, considering your response, "Well...they're...basically made of keratin. I think. Like fingernails but stronger. They're not that long, so they can't really be called talons, but they help me grip and climb."

Otto questions, "Not fight?"

Flexing your fingers against the material of your dress, you speculate, "That's...I mean, if I took a swipe at someone I would probably leave a bit of a cut. Although if I went for the eyes that'd be a different story..."

Confusion crosses the brothers' faces. How exactly did you kill the man, then? Was it the adrenaline?

Axel asks what's on their minds, "Can't kill?"

You figured after everything you said to Otto that this would be coming.

"...I know what you're getting at. You want to know how I did..what I did."

You lock eyes with the eldest, bold as you simply state, "I won't be answering questions about that today."

Determination sets the oldest Swede's jaw, "You made a promise to tell everything. Was this a lie?"

Unsettled, you speak before you can think, "Everything about my First Phase, yes! I haven't lied!"

You clap your hands over your traitorous mouth.

Axel blinks, and then slowly, surely, his expression slides into something sly and victorious; you've revealed something quite interesting. Only for a moment do you bear witness to the brothers' growing intrigue before you cover your eyes, head bowing to hide your face in your hands in pure frustration.

Oscar's voice drifts into your ears, "First Phase? More than one?"

You groan, "See, this is my problem. I like you three too much and it makes me slip up in such stupid ways. Fudge muffins."

The three assassins perk up at the additional reveal of your fondness for them, carefully storing that particular little nugget of information away to be closely inspected at a later time. For now, their focus is elsewhere.

Before they can push for a little more clarification from you, a flash of lightning interrupts the conversation. Worried, you turn to the men with a frown.

"We should move this inside, Pumpkin really doesn't like thunderstorms. Not to mention the kittens will probably be scared too."

Oscar is the first to react to the information; leaning far to the side in his chair to peer at the screen door, he can make out a little ball of orange fluff curled tight against the door in misery. You stand, the brothers quick to follow in your lead.

As you head towards the door peering this way and that at your arms and legs, you mention, "Don't forget to check for spiders before heading in. It's been a while."

Otto grunts and the trio do a quick once-over as you pause by the hose to rinse your feet, watching Axel out of the corner of your eye.

Hm. He really didn't check all that carefully...you eye the hose, weighing the risk. Really though, don't you deserve a little revenge?

Yes, yes you do.

Instrument of justice in hand, you take aim and blast him with what water was left in the hose before you have the chance to talk some sense into yourself.

Surprisingly, all the man does is tense up, still like a statue. There's no grunt or bark of surprise, though maybe you heard a sharp intake of breath from him?

Hair disheveled and wide-eyed as water drips from his skin and clothes, he stares at you. His younger brothers mirror his disbelieving expression and you can't help but take pride in the thought that you've successfully surprised all three of them.

You offer him a simple explanation for the impromptu shower, backing slowly away from the hose towards the door to the cottage all the while.

"...You missed a spot."

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

Jävla engelska-   Fucking English

[songofclarity]

Since I didn’t want to bog down the other post that brought up the topic of belts, I offer a different consideration on the matter: Meng Yao/Jin GuangYao’s belt aspired to be like the one worn by Jin GuangShan:

Circular metal centerpiece, edged pieces bracketing the center, and the circular end pieces all atop dark brown leather. This style choice makes sense since MengYao/Jin GuangYao’s primary aspiration is to be acknowledged by his father as his rightful son, with all the honors and inheritance attached to it.

Of course, the belt is similar-yet-different because Meng Yao isn’t accepted as a Jin as of yet--and never, truly, will be accepted so long as Jin GaungShan has any say on the matter. Meanwhile Jin ZiXuan and Jin ZiXun do get to all wear matching belts alongside Jin GuangShan like one big, happy family:

Meng Yao only starts wearing this similar-yet-different belt after he’s accepted into a prominent position. He becomes someone important, someone worthy of notice -- because it’s Nie MingJue, not the Jin, who honors Meng Yao as someone worth more than the nature of his birth.

Note when Meng Yao meets his father the first time and when he meets Nie MingJue the first time, he’s wearing a plain fabric belt:

Very humble. Several other Nie disciples, the same ones that had been mocking him, are wearing the same style in this scene, so my understanding is that there is nothing inherently bad or low-class about this. Lan Sect disciples, including Lan XiChen, are also seen wearing this style regularly. But once Meng Yao becomes a somebody of importance, he upgrades.

But he doesn’t copy Nie MingJue:

And his belt is entirely different in style, color, and material from the other prominent Nie disciple we meet:

And at no point, past or present, does he imitate Nie HuaiSang, despite wearing Nie HuaiSang’s childhood hairpiece while in the Nie Sect (not shown):

So Jin GuangYao does not pick a belt to identify with the Nie Sect.

He picks one which identifies him with his father and the Jin:

He wears it when he’s in the Nie Sect:

When he’s with the Wen Sect (and where he is actually, for the first time, wearing Nie MingJue-style robes, which is just kind of bizarre at this point when he’s been with the Wen as a spy for a novel-estimate of 1 - 2 years, but maybe it’s a clue-in for the viewer that he’s not actually with the Wen Sect, idk):

And when he’s with the Jin Sect, where he can match his dad as his accepted son in the public eye:

The belt stays, because it was always a Jin belt, but as we can see the robes and underbelt have changed to Jin pale yellow. Except we all know that nothing, least of all wardrobe, will help newly-named Jin GuangYao make his dead-beat dad accept him as his heir, so he ends up killing Jin GuangShan in the end. (RIP Nie MingJue and everyone from Yi City, who could have all been saved if Jin GuangYao had planned out his murders better by killing Jin GuangShan first.)

As to what happens to this belt after Nie MingJue’s death, which is the last scene it’s shown, is unclear. I would like to suggest that even though we don’t get a peek at Jin GuangYao’s waistline during his father’s rape-murder scene, that might have been the end of that belt. Jin ZiXuan and Jin ZiXun are dead so no happy family to match. No more Jin GuangShan to live up to means no more Jin GuangShan-style belt worth wearing.

So after the time skip back to the present, we see Sect Leader Jin and Chief Cultivator, Jin GuangYao, with a fancy new belt:

And it is fancy! But it’s a busy and heavy-looking thing, isn’t it? Still going with the circular motifs. Now it has several decorative pieces in green and red. Not one but TWO tassels. I appreciate the symmetry, but I don’t recall anyone else wearing two tassels, so that stands out to me.

Considering he was copying his dad for leverage, I’m led to wonder what gave him the idea for this new belt. My first thought was Lan XiChen, except:

Lan XiChen in the present is wearing a plain fabric belt again. In fact, Lan XiChen is always humble with his belts. Below is the belt we last see him wearing before the time skip to present, when he is having yet another miserable time at Koi Tower:

This belt is just a large, dark blue band and it almost looks like he’s forgotten the center piece. Compare it to the dark blue twist over the light blue band above, and the silver metal over the pale blue and white band below, worn when we first meet him during the Cloud Recesses School Arc:

Simple and elegant! I would also love to make a comment about the belt he wears after the Sunshot Campaign:

Except Lan XiChen’s Nie-style robe is too big and beautiful that it’s hard to capture a shot of his belt. More interesting than the belt, however, is that Shouyue is clearly decorated with two tassels.

Which leads me to consider this silly notion: Jin GuangYao’s two tassels are not imitating/honoring Lan XiChen, their honoring Shouyue, the sword that held Nie MingJue back when Jin GuangYao could have (rightfully) died. If that is true, it makes it all the more ironic that Shouyue stabs him in the end.

In any case, considering the circumstances when Lan XiChen wears that dark blue outfit with it’s plain, wide-blue belt, I have to wonder if the plainness is supposed to reflect an absence of power, not just for Meng Yao but also Lan XiChen. Lan XiChen’s belts are simple and humble, but the dark blue especially so. Lan XiChen put all his efforts into keeping Nie MingJue alive, not knowing Jin GuangYao was actively betraying and undermining his efforts. All the power Lan XiChen possessed was turned against him, and Jin GuangYao ended up with a nicer belt as he rode that wave of momentum to power.

(Although that dark blue belt nicely balances the decorative design of the outer robe itself.)

After Lan XiChen, my other thought was maybe Jin GuangYao was trying to copy or more likely compete Jiang Cheng, who has a spectacular wardrobe, and yet:

Both Jiang Cheng and Jin Ling’s belts are rather plain by comparison to Jin GuangYao’s. Their belts also look like belts while Jin GuangYao’s looks like decoration. We can also confirm that neither Jin GuangYao nor Jin Ling carry on the matching, happy-family tradition of Jin ZiXuan’s era.

Which brings me to this current conclusion: Jin GuangYao simply and finally has a belt all his own. There is no one else to live up to, no one else to win over, and no one else to stand in his way. Before Nie HuaiSang and Wei WuXian sweep in to ruin him without warning, Jin GuangYao is living his best life. That final belt stands out all on its own, which in turn says a lot about Jin GuangYao and his visions of grandeur: he wants to be seen and recognized. He did, after all, make a temple and slap his mother’s face onto the statue so that she could be worshiped as a goddess. Jin GuangYao utilizes pity as power, but his pride is so fierce that he kills people for ridiculing him.

So it’s really no surprise that he ends up wearing an extra fancy belt when he reaches the top of the cultivation wold. It’s only a wonder that he didn’t accentuate his robes to match, but that would have shown that he wasn’t at all as pitiful as he led the world to believe.

[fitzs-trained-monkey]

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Red Roses, Red Roses

Rated: 16+ For graphic descriptions of violence and gore, brief mentions of rape, mentions of torture, mentions of abuse, and disturbing images.

Masterlist

~All the pretty girls, they find

A way to keep you on my mind

I swear I heard you singing along

Cities pass like candy stores

And you're the one

I'm looking for

And so

I'm just a boy

Who's telling a girl

That when I grow up I'll buy you a rose

When I grow up, I'll buy you a rose~

"Okay, but what is the proper plural form of Nephilim?" I asked from the back seat of the Impala as it drove through the winding roads from the bunker and into town. "See, 'cause ' Nephilims ' sounds weird. So, is it ' Nephili ' like ' octopi ', or could it be ' Nephilice ' like ' mice '? I need to know this, guys."

The car was silent. Sam, Cas, and Jack were all thinking over the answer to my question and Dean was just rolling his eyes in the mirror.

"Maybe-" Sam started slowly "-Maybe it's just 'Nephilim'. You know, like ' moose '?"

"Yeah, that kinda sounds right, I guess." I nodded. Dean laughed and shook his head, glancing at me in the mirror. "What?"

"Oh, nothin'." He waved a hand. "I just don't get ya' is all."

"Yeah, neither do I." I shrugged and Jack must have found something funny because he snickered. "But what is it that you don't get?"

Dean shrugged. "I mean, I know you get rattled; Felix scares you and I get that. But you just take  everything else  in stride! How do you do that? I just- I don't get it."

"I told you this, Dean. I'm good at hiding my reactions to things and if I can't hide them then I use them to gain sympathy from others." I glanced at Jack, catching his eye. "At least, that's what I do until I can really trust somebody."

Jack smiled a little and tugged me closer into his side. He had been acting sorta weird since we'd all piled into the Impala for the drive into town. Jack had wrapped his arm around my waist and held me tight against him, almost as if he was keeping me away from the trench-coated angel on my other side. He kept shooting Cas these weird glances and I couldn't help but wonder what they could be about. If I hadn't known better, I would have thought that Jack was being possessive.

Not that I was complaining about our close proximity or anything! Jack was really warm and winter in Kansas was, shall we say, not. Who was I to turn down free cuddles? Although those cuddles did kinda make me want to sink my teeth into him. He smelled so sweet and his skin looked so frustratingly soft. Maybe one of these nights I could sneak into his room and get a taste. That could make things better, I mean, half the torture of being around him was the curiosity of not knowing.

"And we're here!"

Sam's voice knocked me out of that potentially devastating train of thought and I followed Jack out of the car. Okay, ' followed ' is the wrong word. Jack pretty much just pulled me out of the car with him. He didn't let go of me. Weird.

The town of Lebanon, Kansas reminded me quite a bit of Copper Harbor. The main difference was that Lebanon was bigger... A lot bigger. The buildings were small and friendly, made of red brick and wooden doors and windows with glass that bulged out at the bottom. The streetlamps were iron and curled over the street as they should and there were planter boxes underneath display windows. The whole town just breathed in a way that said ' stay awhile '.

"It's Christmas time," I noted aloud, "I almost forgot."

There were colorful lights wrapped around poles and wreaths hung on doors with bells that jingled when they opened. There were even speakers placed outside that filled the air with all sorts of holiday music and I felt a smile split across my face as I started to sing along.

"Oh, no. Don't tell me you sing too," Dean chuckled as he held open the door of a discount clothing store. I was about to say something witty as a response but Jack beat me to the chance.

"She does! She sang to me last night," He said, smiling down at me. Dean raised an eyebrow, glancing at the acute lack of space between us. Jack noticed and let go of my waist.

"Oh yeah? And how was that?" Dean asked, smirking.

Jack's brow's furrowed and his head tilted as he eyed me like he was trying to remember something.

"It was..."

' Please don't say anything that'll get me dead! ' I pleaded silently.

"It was  magical ."

Sam, Dean, and Cas all shared a strange look, but before anything more could be said, the shopkeeper waltzed in from the back room.

Her silver hair was cut short and straight with the ends tucked around her chin. She was a short, thin woman probably in her late forties or early fifties with a not-a-hair-out-of-place sort of attitude. I would bet twenty bucks that her name was Christie spelled with a 'Ch' that she would be sure to remind us of. Click-clacking her way over to us in a pair of atrociously hot pink six-inch heels, the woman regarded us over the tops of her thick, rectangular glasses which hung on a chain around her neck. She flicked her eyes over each person individually in a way that reeked of silent judgment and when her eyes landed on me I was tempted to flip her off. When she was satisfied that she knew everything there was to know about us, the woman fixed a painfully fake smile onto her face and greeted us, speaking slowly like we were uneducated simpletons.

"Well, hi there all! My name's Christie with a 'Ch', you know, like in 'Christmas'? What are your names?"

Called it.

"Hey, Christie. I'm Dean, this is my brother Sam, standing really creepily behind me is Cas, and this one here is his son Jack." Dean pointed as he introduced everyone, sounding annoyed as if this was his tenth time meeting Christie which it probably was. "We're lookin' to get Marty here some warm clothes. Got anything, ah, petite?"

I shot Dean a pointed look to which he just smirked. It wasn't my fault he and his brother were so freakishly tall. In front of us, Christie ignored his request to do business and kept on chatting.

"Sam and Dean Winchester? I remember you, boys. Why didn't you tell me one of you had a daughter as pretty as this little vision? Is she yours, Sam? She looks a bit like you," She cooed, stroking my hair as if that was a socially acceptable thing to do. I almost bit her hand off but smiled instead. Her question caught Sam off guard.

"No, no. Marty's not my daughter," He chuckled nervously, shaking his head.

"Oh! My mistake. Is she yours, Dean?"

"What? No! O'corse not!"

I nearly smacked my face with my palm. Were these guys  trying  to look like kidnappers? Considering their age and the way I was dressed, oh yeah, this totally looked like a kidnapping.

Christie frowned and wrapped an arm around my shoulders, pulling me closer to her side. Jack reached for me but Christie pulled me further away, glaring at him.

"Oh, dear me. I shouldn't be calling the police on you boys now, should I?"

Sam and Dean glanced at each other, trying to come up with some sort of excuse and Christie was already pulling out her phone. A very Isaac-like idea popped into my brain. I rolled my eyes and huffed, pushing away from Christie.

"Ugh! Why do you guys have to be so weird about it? I mean, if you have to dress like child abductors then you could at least  try  not to act like it!" I turned to Christie, shaking my head. "Yeah, sorry about them, ma'am. It's a really long and scandalous story and you probably don't wanna hear the details, but I'm not being kidnapped, I promise."

Christie perked up at the mention of scandal, she was probably just itching for some juicy gossip to spread around at one of her knitting meetings.

"Well, I should probably hear the whole story just to make sure," She said, almost buzzing with excitement.

"Are you sure?" I baited, "It's pretty bad!"

"Oh, you can tell me, hon! I won't tell anybody."

Liar, liar, pants on fire!

"Alright, so long story short, my mom is Cas's aunt and she's a slut who cheated on my dad, who's a straight-up loser. So, he only found out that I'm not his just last week and filed for divorce within two days because he finally has an excuse to get rid of me now. Except, surprise-surprise, my mom never wanted me either because I'm a useless mistake and so they both threw me to child support which Cas here saved me from because he's a decent human being!" I finished my rant of bull crap and inhaled deeply. Christie had bought every word.

"Aw, you poor baby! You get a discount, sweetheart, and if one of your parents ever comes in here I'm gonna wring their neck!" She continued babbling as she led us through the store while Sam, Dean, Cas, and Jack all stared at me like I had eight heads. I smirked at them and shrugged a little.

Five hours and six oversized bags of clothes later and we were out of that store. We crossed the street and collapsed on some benches outside a diner, remaining silent for a while.

"That was worse than Hell!" Dean complained, tugging his boots off and rubbing his sore feet. "If I had to hear that woman talk for one more minute, I might have slit her throat!"

The rest of us made noises of agreement. Well, all except Jack who just shrugged.

"I thought she was nice," He said, though he too looked worn out.

"That wasn't nice, Jack. That was prying," Cas corrected him.

"Yeah," I agreed, "I wasn't sure how much more crap I could spout about your aunt, Cas!"

"Yeah, um, speaking of," Sam cut in, "You had that whole thing pretty handled, Marty. Where'd all that stuff come from anyway?"

"I've been on my own since I was nine, Sam," I lied, lowering my head and picking at my jeans.

"I get that, but-"

" Since I was  nine ,  Sam ." I glanced up to see Sam's mouth form into an 'O' of understanding. I looked away again, quieting my voice. "I know how to make up excuses that people won't question."

"Ah."

"You are  quite  the liar, Martina," Cas spoke up with a tilt of his head. The way his words curled in on one another made it impossible for me to tell whether his statement was one of praise, suspicion, or both. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Jack eyeing Cas, his lip curled in a scowl that looked unnatural when displayed by his gentle features.

I didn't look up at the angel sitting in front of me. A tight smile tugged at the corner of my lips as I tapped the pads of my fingers against my knees.

"You don't trust me do you, Castiel?" I asked, trying to keep my voice neutral. Cas sighed and shook his head; I watched Jack's hands clench into fists.

"No. No, I don't," He said, eyeing Jack's reactions as well.

"Why not?" I still didn't look up, feeling the angel's gaze shift to me.

"You lie so easily to others, and you do it very well. What's to stop you from doing the same to us?" For once, Castiel's tone didn't seem accusatory. He sounded truly curious and... understanding almost. His words were something close to gentle.

"Nothing, really," I answered honestly, "For five years, it was just  me . I had Isaac but I still felt  so  alone . I felt so small and scared and  purposeless . All I did was run and hide, it was like I was just waiting to die. So, when you guys offered me protection, I couldn't say no. I couldn't say no, even if I didn't actually need it."

"Didn't need it? What's that supposed to mean?" Dean asked, leaning his elbows on his knees. I shrugged.

"You guys saw a small kid getting attacked in that alleyway and you helped her out. You just made the same mistake that everybody does."

"And what mistake is that?" Cas pressed, squinting curiously.

"Thinking that small means the same thing as helpless," I took a deep breath, shaking my head, "It doesn't, and I'm not. I told you I was clever, you just never stopped to think about what that meant. What you guys don't seem to get is that I survived for  five years . I was just scared that if you knew then you would leave me there alone and I- I just couldn't."

"So, you lied to us?" Sam asked with a frown. I nodded.

"I did. I lied to you and I'm sorry."

"We wouldn't have turned you away, Marty," Jack said, softly grasping my hand.

"I think somewhere deep down I knew that. There were just these things I had to do to survive and I was so scared that if you knew about them, then you wouldn't want me. So, I lied. Because the only thing I could think about was how I just couldn't be alone anymore." I laughed in spite of myself.

Jack nodded solemnly before glancing up and getting distracted by something across the street. His face lit up as he let go of my hand and stood, bounding towards whatever had caught his attention. I didn't bother to watch him.

"Look, Marty," Dean sighed and shook his head a bit, "You seem like a pretty sweet kid and I like you, a lot. Now, I may not know everything about your past, but I know from experience that the only thing that can make up for your mistakes is trying your best to do the right thing now. I wanna trust you, Marty. We all do. But if you keep all these secrets, then we can't do that. So, can you promise us just one thing?"

"Name it."

"No more lies?"

"No more lies," I lied.

"Good." Sam smiled. "So, is there anything else we should know about you?"

There were so many things. None of which I could tell.

"Well, there might be one thing."

"What?"

I opened my mouth to speak but I was cut off by a flower being presented before my eyes. The flower was a rose and the rose was white. It was gorgeous and perfect, there wasn't a single flaw on any of the smooth petals and it was just one step short of full bloom.

There was a hand attached to the rose and I plucked the flower from his fingers, twirling it between my own.

"What's this for?" I asked as I looked up at Jack who beamed down at me the way I remember summer sunshine being like.

"It reminds me of you," He said simply.

"Why?" I chuckled.

"Um, because you said that you pretended to be innocent and helpless because you thought that nobody would want you if they knew otherwise. So, um, I-" He gestured to the rose's thorn-covered stem. "Well, t-this one has spiky-things on it."

"So, it does." I nodded, giggling at his strange explanation. Jack flashed me a grin and continued.

"At first, I thought it was just beautiful, like you, and I didn't see the spiky things until I picked it up. When I touched it, it hurt, but I took it anyway. See, it's still beautiful - even with the spikes - I still wanted it. So, I want you to know that even if you have spikes, I still want you."

Around. There was an ' around ' tagged on the end of that sentence, he just forgot to put it there. Right?

"Thank you, puppy. That was very sweet," I said, catching a glimpse of the flower cart across the street where he must have gotten it. The cart was unattended. In fact, the whole street was oddly empty. It was Christmas time, the street shouldn't have been empty, but it was and that gave me a very bad feeling.

Jack smiled so innocently it made me want to cry.

"You're welcome!"

"You paid for this though, right?"

Jack's face immediately told me the answer. "Is it not for free?"

"Nope, you stole it. You're criminal now," I joked.

"Oh." Jack frowned for a moment. Then he shrugged. "Well, when we grow up, I'll buy you one."

I had the chance to say something witty, so naturally, I replied with:

"Cool."

I mentally slapped myself. Of course, he says something cute and all I say back is ' cool '. My brain hates me.

I felt my cheeks heating up, so I ducked my head down. Deciding that we were in a shaded enough spot, I tugged the light-teal-colored baseball cap off my head. (I had been using it to hide my face from the harsh burning of the sunlight that drifted over the town.) The cap had a manatee sewn on the front and was one of the few things I had brought with me from my past life on the sunny shores of Florida. Laying the hat in my lap, I pulled my thick black braid over my shoulder and proceeded to weave the rose's stem into it loosely. Then, I flipped my hair back and smashed the baseball cap back on my head.

Meanwhile, the angel boy just smiled down at me as if he  hadn't  just said some of the kindest words I'd heard in five years. My cheeks felt like they were on fire and suddenly my shoes were extraordinarily interesting.

My attention was drawn away, however, when out of the corner of my eye, I watched Cas's back go ramrod straight. His head tilted to the side like he was listening for something, his eyes narrowing to one-quarter squint power.

"Cas?" Dean called to his friend. More like  their  friend, really, Sam and Jack were his family too. I guess I couldn't bring myself to call the angel my friend while I was lying to his face about everything I was.

"There are monsters somewhere here, I can sense them," Castiel said quietly. Jack stopped and tilted his head like Cas, focusing.

"I sense them too," He reported, glancing at me, "They're vampires." I sat up a little straighter.

"Put your shoes back on, Dean. You cannot rest while enemies are nearby," I said, smiling wryly and letting an edge of nervousness creep into my voice.

"How many are there?" Dean demanded, already taking charge.

Cas squinted harder. "Seven... Wait, no. There are eight."

"Where? C-can you sense that?" Sam asked.

"No-" Cas shook his head before turning to his surrogate son. "-But Jack can."

Cas sent a small nod to Jack who nodded back and directed his gaze upward, stretching out a hand. His eyes flicked into glistening gold and I could feel my hair stand on end as the air became charged with raw power. For a split second, I almost thought I saw the outline of feathered appendages sprouting from the boy's back. Then, Jack's eyes flickered back into their crystalline blue and I shook the after image away. Whatever I had thought I'd seen was gone before I could register it.

"There are two of them hiding in an alley about thirty yards that way-" He pointed to the left "-and there are five more. They're waiting for an ambush? I think? They're over there. In that really suspicious-looking grey van parked four cars down." He jabbed his thumb over his shoulder and I leaned over to glance at the car. Jack had been right, the van totally looked like it belonged to the mafia or something.

"What about the last one?" Dean pressed, his eyes shifting around to examine his environment. Jack shook his head.

"I-I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"I mean, I can sense it - I know it's here somewhere - but it's cloudy. I can't tell exactly where; it's like it's everywhere and nowhere at the same time."

Jack called the vampire an ' It '. Of course, he did.  It  was a vampire.  It  was a monster. What else does one call a monster? What else does one call  a thing  like that? After all, that's all  it  was; that's all  I  was. A  thing . Not a someone, not a person, not a  friend . A  thing . A  pest , a  nuisance , a  parasite  to be eradicated. Skrew all Jack's kind words and endearing actions; they didn't mean anything! He could never really love me back. It was only a matter of time before he realized that. It was only a matter of time before he started calling me ' It '.

' How long will that be, I wonder .'

I was pulled from my thoughts by a scream. It rang, high and sharp, and it echoed off the brick buildings.

"HELP! HELP ME!" A woman's voice cried.

"Max?" Jack whispered, his eyes going wide. I didn't know who that was and apparently, neither did Dean as he flung his strong arm out in front of Jack who began to sprint towards the sound.

"Who?" Dean demanded. Jack struggled to push past him but Dean wouldn't budge.

"That-that's Max! She's my friend! Those things have her! She needs our help!" He explained impatiently. Dean's face scrunched up.

"Wait, wait. Max? Teenage girl? White hair? 'Bout yea high?" The elder Winchester made a height comparison with his hand and Jack rolled his eyes.

"Yes! Now, come on!" Jack huffed.

"Oh ho! So that's why you're not going for abandonment issues over there?" Dean teased. Letting go of Jack, they started towards the sound of screaming. "Does Jack-Jack have a girlfriend?"

Jack stopped and faced Dean, confusion written across his brow. "Max already has a girlfriend."

"Oh."

The two dorks were brought back to reality when that Max girl screamed again.

"SOMEBODY PLEASE HELP!"

Her voice was followed by another, a boy this time.

"HEY! HEY! HELP! ANYBODY! HELP US!"

"That's Eliot!" Jack took off down the street at a full-on sprint. Dean, Sam, and Cas hot on his heels.

"No, no! Please, go on ahead without me," I muttered, sarcastically, "Save the damsel! I'll just... wait here then."

Huh. Max and Eliot. I felt like those names should be switched around, but then again, I go by Marty, so who am I to judge?

Out of nowhere, I felt a stinging pain in my shoulder. A syringe. I knew the feeling well. Before I could react, the pain suddenly doubled, rapidly spreading all throughout my body like a viral infection.

Dead man's blood.

I whipped my head to the left to meet an all too familiar pair of brown eyes.

"What's bouzzin' gousin?" An accented voice jeered.

Then everything was black.

***

The vampires were taken care of rather easily. Jack felt like a Jedi Knight as he suspended them in the air, stringing them up like the murderers they were. They didn't even struggle. Like convicts dangling from a hangman's noose, the vampires knew as soon as they saw Jack's glowing eyes, that their deaths were nigh at hand. Jack thrust out a hand and caught them in the pulsing rings of his grace, a sound like drum beats underwater reverberating off the alley walls. With a grin, the boy clenched his hand into a fist and the monsters splintered into not but dust.

With the threat eradicated, the glow in Jack's eyes flickered out and he turned to the high-schoolers who he considered his friends.

"Hello, Max! Hello, Eliot! It's alright, you're safe now," He chimed, nodding to each kid in turn and lifting his hand in greeting, though he refrained from actually waving it. Upon seeing him raise his hand, the kids shared a look of sheer terror and backed away. Jack frowned at their reactions, lowering his hand. "No, no! Wait, it's okay. I'm not going to hurt you!"

Max and Eliot paused, trying to determine whether or not they believed him.

Unbeknownst to Jack, Max and Eliot didn't actually like him. ( After finding out about the supernatural, the teens were disappointed when the Winchesters refused to tell them more about spirits and monsters. Enter Jack, and his unfortunate lack of talent in terms of keeping his trap shut. ) Max and Eliot had only hung out with Jack once, and that was exclusive because they knew that he lived with the Winchesters. Against his better judgment, Jack had shown them a glimpse of his powers and though they thought his telekinesis was cool, the teens had agreed not to search the boy out again.

There was just something about Jack that unsettled them, frightened them,  terrified  them. Just like every other human who had seen what Jack could do; deep down, they were all afraid of him. Because he wasn't normal, he wasn't right,  he wasn't human .

"What did you just do to those guys?" Eliot asked, staring with eyes as wide as quarters. Jack thought it would be better not to answer that question.

"It's okay! They were monsters," He reassured.

"He disintegrated them," Cas deadpanned. Dean shot the angel a look. "What?"

"YOU DISINTEGRATED THEM?!" Max screeched loud enough to make Jack flinch.

"Yes?"

"You didn't just, like, proof em' away or something?" Eliot added, a little quieter.

"Um, no. No, I didn't."

"COULD YOU DO THAT TO US?!"

"Most likely, yes," Jack answered, thoughtfully, "I've never tried it on humans, though. But I would never hurt you guys, you're my friends!"

"You're really freaky, dude," Elliot said, shaking his head slowly, "And, like, not in a good way."

"I know." Jack hung his head. They were afraid of him. They hated him. He shouldn't have expected otherwise.

"I'm never gonna be able to un-see that," Max muttered, staring at the cement.

That gave Jack an idea, maybe there was a way to undo this.

"I know you're probably freaking out, but I think I know a way to make it better," He said, trying to sound reassuring.

"Nah, man. I don't want any of your freaky Aquaman powers used on me!" Eliot shook his head.

"No powers." Jack smiled despite how badly their words hurt. "I promise."

His stomach twisted with the lie, but they didn't need to know that. Max and Eliot shared another glance.

"Okay..." They agreed, hesitantly.

"I have a friend. Her name is Marty," Jack explained, leading them back to the bench where his family had left the girl. "She's right here!"

Except she wasn't.

That's when the Nephilim's phone rang.

It was a picture message. Marty sat unconscious tied to a chair in some shack. The text read:

"I really would hate to incur the wrath of the Winchesters, so consider this a ransom note. All you have to do is find her in time. Tick-tock. ~ Felix "

Max peered over Jack's shoulder.

"Hey! I know that place!"

***

"Welcomb back to the land of the livinc' where the livinc' are, in fact, dead!"

Okay, so she knew I was awake. I kept my eyes closed anyway and canvassed my new environment. Having grown up blind, I didn't need my eyes to see.

My hands were bound with zip-ties to the arms of the splintering wooden chair I sat in. The space around me was large but not cavernous as there was no echo. This was a shack of some kind judging by how the metal panels making up the roof clanged against one another in the wind. The shack was also dark to protect vampire skin from the sun, and in winter, no sun meant freezing temperatures. There was a weight covering my lap; someone had given me a blanket. I caught the scent of hay among other less pleasurable farm smells. I could hear the shifting of five pairs of feet surrounding me in a circle. This was going to be fun.

Opening my eyes, at last, I was met with the sight of a young woman around the age of twenty-two, lounging on a few hay bails. She was long, lean, and muscular with a round face displaying a crooked smile. I could see the end of a tie-dyed shirt sticking out beneath the fluffy black coat she wore. Her green and purple hair was chopped short in a punk rocker pixie cut that stuck out in at least five different directions. If I wasn't mistaken, a few of the strands appeared to be scorched on the ends. Her cheekbones were low and prominent and plenty rosy. She had full lips and a button nose that was home to two tiny diamond studs. The woman wore her dark green eyeshadow with plum-colored lipstick unapologetically. Her eyes, which were set deeper than most, turned down at the corners and sparkled with mischief. They were accompanied by thick dark eyebrows, the left of which had apparently gotten a third piercing since I had last seen her.

"Ah hah! So she  is  alive!" She said, her thick Dutch accent coating her words, "I was begininc' to worry that you had follen asleep... Again."

I shrugged despite my restraints.

"Yeah, well I can only sleep-in so long."

"You never were a morninc' person, were you?" The woman sighed, shaking her head. I watched her arrow-head pendant as it swung back and forth from her neck.

"Nope."

"And dat's why we're frien'ds!" She chirped.

"We're not friends, Elwyn." Okay, so maybe that was a bit harsh but it was better than pretending like everything was fine and dandy between us. Elwyn faked a gasp.

"You used my fuoll name! You muss be serious. Why so c'old,  mijn lieve ?" She asked, tilting her head.

"Spending five years as a walking corpse will do that to you," I answered, smiling thinly. "Why are you here, Elwyn? What's this act for? We both know that if I wanted to walk out of here right now, I could do so without a scratch on me. What do you want?"

"You might 'ave been able to woltz out of 'ere if you had a full tanc', dat's true." Elwyn nodded, in agreement. Then she tilted her head and frowned at me with pouty lips. "But you're quite weak now. I'm sorry, hones'ly. I t'ought dat you'd be able to 'andle dat much dead man's blood but you still look pale an' shaiky!"

"Well, I've always been pale," I replied, narrowing my eyes. Elwyn sat up, crossing her legs and putting a fist to her chin. Her brows furrowed and she looked at me with what seemed to be genuine concern for my well-being.

"How lon'g has it been since you fed,  liefste ?" She asked in a gentler tone.

"A little over two weeks," I answered honestly.

"Two weeks?! Nothinc'? Not even somethinc' piffy, like a ra'bbit?"

I shook my head and shrugged.

"Oh,  jij arme ding ! I know you ha'te it, but how could you do dis' du yourself?!" She cried, shaking her head in dismay. I looked away. Deep down I knew that Elwyn really did care about me, albeit in her own strange way. I was being harsh with her and that wasn't exactly fair. She was Felix's prisoner too.

"I more than hate it, Ellie," I said, speaking softer now, "But I just couldn't find a good opportunity. Besides, I can take it."

Elwyn rolled her chocolate-brown eyes.

"No you gan't, Mardina! Look at yourself! You're runninc' on foomes and it shows!" Elwyn huffed, her accident becoming more prominent as her emotion shown through. "Be hones'd wit me, dis is because of dose Win-kesters, isn't it?"

"Not exactly," I said, picking at a splinter on the wooden arm-rest. I knew the real reason and it was a stupid one. I mean, of all the ways to try to be better, starving myself to the breaking point probably wasn't the smartest. But I wanted to be good, pure. I wanted to be human. For him.

"Ah, I see." Elwyn smiled softly. "I was told aboud dat Nephilim boy, the rumors were wrong about him. I was watchinc' you two today; he's not a ragink' monster at all."

"No, he's not." I shook my head.

"He's a  zoet wezen , no?" Elwyn chuckled to herself, "Sorry, I don' know de word for it in English."

I nodded. The closest translation of her Dutch was ' sweet creature '. It fit.

"What's his name?" Elwyn asked without the slightest bit of hostility.

I smiled. "His name is Jack."

" Hou je van hem ?"

"I don't know," I said, shrugging. Elwyn smiled knowingly.

"Yes, you do. And if what I saw was any indication, he feels the same."

"No, he doesn't, Ellie," I sighed and gestured to the child body I was trapped in. "He can't. Just look at me! I'm just a sister to him and if he knew what I really am then he'd hate me!"

"So, dat's what dis is about." Elwyn nodded with understanding.

"What do you mean?"

"You t'ink yourself bad, so you want du be good for him. Dat's why you 'aven't been feeding," She explained, sounding matter-of-fact.

"Yeah, I guess so." I looked away.

"Well, das not good!" Elwyn leaned forward and cut the zip-ties that held me to the chair. Then she reached behind her and fished around a bit until she pulled her arm back and held it out to me, a blood bag resting in her palm. "Have a snack now and your  engel jongen  will never know!"

I glanced at it for a moment but it didn't take much to break my willpower. I snatched the bag from her hand and ripped it open, downing it like there was no tomorrow.

"You gan slow down,  geliefde.  I brough't more." Elwyn chuckled.

"You did?" I asked looking up.

"I had a sneakinc' suspission dat dis was goin'c du 'appen." She shrugged, tossing me another bag which I ripped into also. She reached behind her again, this time tugging around a small cooler full of the stuff which she pushed over to me. "I admire your willpower, Mardina. I don t'ink I'd have de kinda strengt for what you're pullinc'. How'd you do it?"

"Do what?" I asked, halfway through my second bag.

"Live with dose 'unters day in an' day out!" She exclaimed, "Esspecialy dat e ngel jongen ! Da kid smells like garamel chocolate! I envy your gontrol. How'd you stan' so close to him? I was eighty-feet away and I gould 'ardly gontrol myself!"

Well, at least I wasn't the only one.

"I gotta keep up apperences, Ellie. You know all about that." I knew I sounded guarded, but this subject made me uncomfortable.

"But you gould still get a taste. I know you gan make pepole forget t'ings."

I sighed, finishing my second bag and grabbing another.

"You know, Elwyn? You almost got me." I smiled, shaking my head.

"What do you mean?" She asked, feigning obliviousness.

"For a second there, I almost thought you were still my friend."

"I  am  your friend," Elwyn insisted, "I defied Felix for you!"

"Then you ran right back to him the second I turned my back."

"I had too," She spoke, her voice regretful.

"No! No you didn't! You  chose  too. You chose  him  over  me !"

" Hij is mijn vader !  Ik moest !" Elwyn cried. Tears brimmed in her eyes.

"I don't care!" I shouted back, "We were free! We both could have been free! But no, you chose to leave me all alone in the middle of the woods!"

"I knew you'd be fine," She whispered. I shook my head, pressing my lips together.

"No, you didn't," I growled. "Do you have  any idea  how long I wandered for?!"

"You made it out."

"Not in one peace. I lost things in there, Elwyn." I shook my head. "You left me there." Then, I let out a harsh, rasping, laugh and spat my next words. "And for what? To run right back into the arms of the father that never even loved you!"

Elwyn hung her head. " Het spijt me zeer.  I'm so sorry."

"You should be," I said, cooly. "Why do you always run back to him? And don't give me any of that ' he's my father ' bull crap."

"I don know. But what I do know is dat I am still your friend."

"Right." I nodded, smiling through tight lips. "Why are you really here, Elwyn?"

She took a deep breath, wiping away the tears that had slipped down her face, and looked up. "I game 'ere to save you," She said.

"Excuse me?"

"From dose 'unters!" She explained, "Felix told me dat you were with de Win-kesters and I begged him to let me c'ome rescue you. An' he said yes! He's so much kinder den he used to be; he promised dat he wouldn' make you do anyt'ing you didn' want to!"

Elwyn smiled at me and took my hand.

"Oh, yeah?" I scoffed, "Then what was that phone call, huh? What? Is killing my friend supposed to win me over?"

"Hey, I said dat Felix is kinder den he was." Elwyn sighed. "He's still Felix though. He was tryinc' to intimidate de Win-kesters into letting you go."

"I'm not being held hostage!" I insisted.

"But you are still in danger!" Her eyes softened, "Dey will kill you if dey find out what you are."

"I know."

"C'ome with me," She pleaded, "C'ome with me, an' Jack will never find out about you. C'ome with me an' he'll never break your heart."

I paused. Was there really any chance?

No. There was no chance. No chance that Felix could ever change. It was one in a million. There was no chance and  no choice .

"If you're really here to save me, then what's with your little posse?" The five other vampires had been unusually quiet for idiots of their caliber.

Elwyn shrugged. "In case t'ings get messy."

"We'll, then you better plan on things getting messy because I'm not coming with you," I said with a smirk.

"Why not?"

"Because Felix wants me dead, Elwyn, and that's not going to change."

The woman's face fell.

"I know you didn' mean to kill Madra," She whispered, gently. I shook my head and frowned.

"I didn't kill her," I hissed, "Felix killed his soulmate, not me."

"And he sees dat now. He knows dat it wasn' your fault, dat you couldn't gontrol it. He realises dat and he forgives you!" She smiled a little.

"And how many times did he have to beat you before he realized that?"

"C'ome on, Mardina!" She sighed, though I could see the pain her eyes hid. "Dis is an olive branch! Jus' take it!"

I shook my head and I laughed. I laughed long and loud and hard. I laughed like a girl gone mad. I had told Elwyn that I had lost something when she had left me in those woods, I wanted her to know what it was.

"No," I said. Then I stretched my bloody lips into a mad, humorless grin, "I don't want your olive branch."

"Why not? Its your best chance! Don you want peace?"

"Peace?  PEACE?! " I spat, "You know what he did to me, what he made me! You think after every thing he took away, that I would want  peace ? You think after what I did, Felix would offer me peace?"

"I don't want peace," I said, beginning the rhyme I'd heard when I was still alive, "I want war and I want my enemy's head hung like a boar. I didn't come for money and I don't want his crown, see, I've come to burn his kingdom down. So, come one, come all, to take a dance with the dead and stain the petals of the white roses red."

"Mardina, please!"

The other vampires in the room shifted, readying for a fight. But I was faster.

Launching myself from that splintering wooden chair, I threw my body forward towards the stack of haybales Elwyn had previously sat on. I had to jump to avoid the vamp that tried to grab my legs and that pushed me forward a little too much but it wasn't something I couldn't compensate for. Landing on my hands, I shoved my body up, and over the hay bales in a vamp strength enhanced backflip. I landed on my feet and flipped my hair back. The shed's door was in front of me. Sure, it was locked but the lock was only one of those slidey metal bars which are super easy to break and if I was going to fight five vamps at once, it would be wise to keep my back to the door that way I might be able to be thrown through the door and land outside instead of pushed into a dead-end wall. Also, if I was going to fight five vamps at once, I was going to need the proper tool for the job. Beside the door, my eyes landed on a tool rack. I spied my weapon of choice. This was going to be fun .

It was one of those weird four-prong rakes that I'm not completely sure is called a rake. A label on the shaft said it was a soil cultivator but I didn't care what it was called because I was fighting for my life. The four prongs were about five inches long and although the shed wasn't new, the equipment in there thankfully wasn't that old, so the four steel prongs were still wicked sharp.

I ducked, dodging the arms of another vamp before rushing for the tool rack. Another vamp sprang in front of me, blocking my way and I paused. This one had bleach-blond chin-length hair. I knew him. I remembered him from when I was in Felix's cage. This one's name was Boyd and he liked to touch things that didn't belong to him. I couldn't fight back then, but I could now.

"How's it goin', Boyd?"

"So, you remember me, do ya?" He jeered, beginning to circle me like a predator circling its prey. Little did he know, he was not the predator here.

"Oh, I remember you alright. See, Boyd, I'm not a good little girl-" He used to call me that, "- not anymore. I don't do what I'm supposed to. See, when it comes to bastards like you, I don't forgive and I most certainly don't forget."

"Well, I guess its a real shame that I forgot your name, then. You were one of my favorites!" He laughed, "Only thing I remember 'bout you now is how loud you used to scream."

I gave him a cold smile and lunged straight for his legs. Grasping his ankle, I twisted and pulled, sending him crashing to the floor. Then I lifted his leg, rolled over, and slammed my arm down on his knee. There was an ear-splitting snap and he screeched like an animal.

"Who's screaming now, Boyd?" I taunted. I sprung up and stomped down on Boyd's throat, crushing his windpipe. As a vampire, that wouldn't kill him which was good because I wasn't done with him yet. I was going to make him hurt. Why would I want peace when I could have revenge? Revenge felt good.

I rolled away when a red-haired vamp took a swing at my head. I bolted for the four-prong rake and brandished it the way you would a staff. The rake was long, about three inches taller than me, but I easily found the balance point. I spun it around in my hand as I circled the other four vamps.

"Mardina, we gan talk aboud dis!" Elwyn tried, grabbing my arm. I threw my head back and laughed.

"No, Ellie. We can't!" I flipped the rake over, using the blunt end to whack Elwyn upside the head with supernatural strength and speed. She was knocked out. "Stay down. You're not like them and I don't want to kill you."

The red-haired vamp ran at me again and I spun out of the way, flipping the shaft again and swinging it down as he passed me. Two of the prongs buried themselves in the base of the vamp's spine, judging by the position, between two vertebrae. He howled and tried to claw at my arm but I easily avoided him. A female vamp shrieked for her friend and lunged at me from the left.

I rolled my eyes. Pushing on the shaft of my rake I distanced myself from the redhead vamp and ducked away from the female's fangs. I reached out and grabbed her shirt, using it to pull her down towards me. I slammed my head into hers once, then twice to daze her. She stumbled as I let go and switched to grabbing the hair at the base of her neck.

"Night-night, cupcake!" I chirped. Then I slammed her face into my knee and tossed my weight over her shoulder, sliding my arm around her neck. I pulled backward.

That blissful crack was the sound of her neck snapping. Jumping up and using the wall to gain some momentum, I twisted the vamp's head all the way around. It was easy with nothing but tissue and tendons in my way. Her body dangled limp from where I held her by the hair, so I opened my mouth, letting my fangs extend, and I bit her head off.

The redhead vamp with my rake still stuck in him cried out and tried in vain to reach me again. It was pathetic, really. Grinning, I wrenched the rake upward, severing the vamp's spinal cord and pulling the prongs along with two of his vertebrae straight through his back. He fell to the ground, paralyzed from the waist down because two of his bones were missing.

Just as I was about to remove his dreadful cranium from his miserable shoulders, one of the other vamps jumped at me, managing to rake his grotesquely long fingernails along my back. I released no cry of pain as he tore through my skin before grabbing me by my shoulders and hurtling my body at the wall. My face slammed against a pole built into the metal siding as the rest of my body just hit the wall. I landed on the ground with a jarring impact that I was sure had broken a few things. But I couldn't feel the pain. I was too focused on my rage. I was seeing red, and for the first time, I welcomed it without fear.

"Not so tough now are ya?" He called out.

My body was broken and yet I stood. I felt invincible.

"I know I'm not tough," I laughed. I wiped away the blood that was dripping from my mouth and nose, looking up to smile pleasantly at the vamp. "But you wanna know what I am?"

"What?"

"I'm insane, and that tends to make up for the rest."

The vamp charged me but I twisted around and Spartan kicked him into the wall. Then, using a few hay bails to step on, I vaulted into the air and brought the rake down on the vamp's head, piercing through his skull and embedding the prongs in his brain. The spray was a little gross but I didn't care. He deserved it.

"You're next, pumpkin," I called to the last vampire left standing in the room.

I crossed over to him and he managed to block my first two blows but then I smashed the blunt end of the rake into his face a few times and he was unconscious. I heard a groan and turned on my heel.

"And that brings us back to you, Boydie-Boo!" I cheered, stepping on the paralyzed vamp's hand as I passed him. I leaned over Boyd who was still on the ground, gasping for air. "Hello, sweetie. How are we today?"

All Boyd did was gasp and choke, he couldn't speak as his vocal cords had been stepped on.

"Aw! Did you get a boo-boo?" I pouted at him.

Then I grabbed Boyd by the throat at lifted him into the air. He struggled against my grasp but could do nothing. He couldn't even beg.

"What's wrong, sweetheart? Can't you scream for me?"

He shook his head and spat at me. So, I threw him into a wall. Boyd fought to stand, using the wall to stagger upright.

"Come on, Boyd! Fight! Are you going to let yourself be beaten by a girl?!" I taunted him and pulled on the fear that was already constricting his mind. Revenge felt so good.

"You-you're not a girl," He panted, "You're a monster!"

I hummed, tapping my chin with my finger.

"I guess history will have to be the judge of that, now won't it, buddy-Boyd?" I dragged my rake along the ground, though all the blood of his friends. There was a wonderful metallic grating noise as the prongs scrapped across the concrete.

"Please don't! Please! I'll do anything!" It felt good to hear him beg.

"Unfortunately," I continued, "I don't think you'll be around to plead your case!" I hefted the rake.

"No! PLEASE!"

"Bye-bye, Boydie-boo!"

I swung the rake upward with all my might and with a sickening crunch I rammed its prongs up through his jaw. I said I wanted him to suffer. Pulling him by the prongs in his face I brought his screaming form over to the tractor sitting at the back of the room. I rammed the shaft of the rake through two spokes of one of the tractor's wheels. All it took was the flip of a leaver to send the wheels spinning.

Turn, turn, turn and scream, scream, scream, then a nice snap, crackle, pop, and then suddenly, Boyd's head and body were two separate objects. I was very happy. Then, the random vamp I'd knocked out woke up and yanked on my hair, throwing me over his shoulder.

I tried to land on my feet but failed, tripping and stumbling backward. I landed on my back and scrambled to get up. As I did, I noticed the perfect white rose that Jack had given to me had fallen out of my hair. It lay on the ground in a pool of blood. Jack said it reminded him of me, of the way he saw me. Well, it wasn't innocent or perfect anymore. But neither was I, so I think it matched me better now.

The vamp rushed me and tackled me to the ground, pinning my arms to my sides as he snapped at me with his fangs out.

Bang... Bang!... CRASH!

The door burst open and light from the setting sun poured in, falling directly on the last vamp's face. He cried out and tried to scamper away, like a rat from a cat.

"It's about time! You guys are late to the party!" I shouted.

"Yeah, sorry!" Dean said from the doorway, "Who would've thought there were so many old sheds in this town!"

I didn't get a chance to reply.

I felt the air prickle and spark, charging with a tambour of power that I recognized but had yet to experience to this degree. I turned my head in time to see Jack, eyes glowing gold, passing by Dean with his hand outstretched. Golden waves of energy shot from his being with a sound like drumbeats from the depths of the sea. The waves caught the fleeing vampire and time around him slowed to a crawl. He was lifted into the air and revolved to face his reckoning. The Nephilim's lips tugged into a cruel grin as he saw the fear in the vampire's eyes.

Suddenly, the pulses of energy stopped and the vampire was flung towards Jack, landing face-first in the dirt at the boy angel's feet. Jack knelt down, his expression seeming to consider the trembling, pathetic thing in front of him.

"P-please!" The monster managed to choke out. "Mercy!"

Jack looked up at me, his eyes soaking in my bloodied face. Apparently, that was all it took. Jack's eyes hardened and he turned back to the vamp.

"You. Hurt. My. Friend."

Jack grabbed the vampire's head in his hands and started to squeeze. The vamp screamed as the pressure increased until his skull just couldn't take it anymore. There was a crunch and a wet sucking noise as the vamp's head collapsed in on itself. I liked that sound.

"That dude's still alive," I said, casually jabbing my thumb at the red-haired vamp I had paralyzed. Jack turned to where I had pointed, ready to squeeze another brain out of its shell.

"Jack!" Cas called from behind him. "No!"

The Nephilim scowled at Castiel and I admired the rage I saw in his eyes. This wasn't my Jack but I liked this version just as much. No, Jack wasn't human, was he? He was more like me than I'd thought. Jack snapped his fingers and the red-haired vamp crumbled into dust. The sight was actually sort of pretty.

When Jack turned to look at me his eyes were completely soft and full of concern. There was my Jack.

"Are you afraid of me now?" He asked in a whisper.

"No," I replied flatly, shrugging my shoulders, "Why would I be?"

"I killed them." Jack hung his head. "Right in front of you."

"Am I supposed to care?" I smirked, hoping my voice didn't sound as harsh as I thought it did. I was just barely beginning to come off my rage-induced high. Jack eyed me with confusion and relief.

"You're hurt," He observed, moving over to me.

"Me? Nah! This is nothing." I gestured at the bodies scattered around the shed. "You should see the other guys!"

"Stay still." Jack placed his soft, gentle, hands on my face to examine my injuries and I felt a warm tingling as he healed them. "There. I fixed you." He whispered. It was more to himself than anything but I still heard it. It made me laugh on the inside.

Yeah, no. Nothing could fix me. I was broken beyond repair. It was my insanity that held me together. Does that sound like the sort of thing that can be fixed?

"Thanks, Jack-Jack!" I chirped, smiling brightly at him.

"You're welcome, Marty," He said quietly. Jack's eyes flicked down, focusing on my lips like he wanted something but wasn't sure how to ask.

"Um, M-Marty?" Sam's voice broke whatever spell the two of us had been under and I glanced over to him.

"Yeah?"

"Did you, uh," Sam pointed to the carnage surrounding us, watching me with weary eyes. "Did you do this?"

I shrugged, jabbing my thumb over my shoulder at the tractor. "Yeah, mostly. But the tractor helped."

"I'm guessing the tractor did that?" Dean pointed to Boyd's head with its jaw still run through with the prongs of the rake. I walked calmly over to the severed head, grasping it by the hair and pulling it off the prongs before returning with it back to the boys. Sam, Dean, and Cas all stared at me with eyes as wide as quarters as held up the head.

"Dean, this is Boyd," I said, keeping my tone as sweet as possible.

"Huh."

"Say hi to Boyd."

"Uh...Hey, Boyd..."

"Good." I grinned as if I was holding a puppy instead of a severed head. "Now let me tell you about Boyd. Boyd liked touching things that didn't belong to him. He worked for Felix and Felix liked hearing little girls scream and cry. So did Boyd. Boyd was very good at making little girls scream and cry, little girls like me. Weren't you Boyd?" I asked the mutilated cranium in my hand. I moved the severed head up and down in an enthusiastic nod, holding it by the hair as if it was a marionet.

"You were very good, yes you were!" I cheered. Then, like the flip of coin, I snapped my focus back to the Winchesters, wiping my face and tone clean of all emotion.

"So, I used a tractor to rip his head off because he deserved it and now he won't ever make another little girl cry ever again. Right, Boyd?" I asked the severed head. I grabbed the head's bloody, splintered jaw and clacked it's teeth together like you would a ventriloquist dummy. "You bet your britches!" I made the head answer, mimicking Boyd's voice.

"D-did he-" Sam stuttered. I flicked my gaze back to him, allowing all three to see the harshness in my eyes.

"Whatever you're thinking, the answer is probably yes."

"Marty?"

I turned to Dean. "What?"

"Put the head down."

I dropped Boyd's severed head.

"Come here." The hunter opened his arms and I faked a sob before accepting the hug. "You weren't gonna tell us about that, were you?" I shook my head. "It's okay, sweetheart. You're safe now."

"Thank you for not throwing me away, Dean," I said softly. The elder Winchester chuckled.

"Don't thank me, Marty. After all, how could we throw away someone so Bad-Ass?"

"Am I awesome now?" I asked.

"You were always awesome."

I laughed and the Winchesters trusted me more than ever. Their mistake.

"Dean, that one's moving," Castiel called our attention over to Elwyn, who was just waking up.

Jack was quick to react, sending a golden blast of power to throw her against the wall where he kept her pinned.

"Wait! Wait!" She cried, "I didn' 'urt Mardina! I swear!"

"Do you work for Felix?" Dean interrogated, pushing me behind him.

"He's my fah'der but I'm not like him! I want du 'elp her! I jus a messenger!"

"Whaddia say, Sammy? Should we shoot the messenger?" Dean asked, keeping his cold eyes on Elwyn.

"No! Please!" Elwyn begged, tears slipping down her face. "I didn' 'urt her!"

"You know, if we shoot the messenger, Dean, it sends one Hell of a message." Like his brother, Sam could turn on the killer inside him like a switch.

"Felix is in Floree'ida, okay? Dat's all I know, I swear!" And it was all she knew because Elwyn had never had a backbone. There was no strength in her.

"Guess its up to you, Marty," Dean said, turning to me. Elwyn looked at me with wide pleading eyes. I regarded her with ice in my own. No second chances. Monsters don't get second chances, I know I never did. I knew I never would.

"I'm your friend, Mardina! Tell dem I'm your friend!" She pleaded. I shook my head.

"You only cared about me when Felix wasn't looking." I was almost shocked by how apathetic and passionless my voice sounded. I watched her without compassion. "You were never my friend."

"No!" Elwyn screeched, "No! I 'elped you! I 'elped you when dey beat you!"

"But you never tried to stop them."

"What?! No!" She sobbed. I smiled at her slightly.

"Go tell Madra I'm sorry."

I sent Jack a nod and with a snap of his fingers, Elwyn was nothing more than flecks of grey drifting to the ground.

Turning around with a sigh, I could feel the eyes of the four others as I bent down and scooped up the rose Jack had given me. I cradled the precious flower in my hands, watching as the blood dripped from its petals in big heavy gobs. It had been perfect once. It wasn't perfect anymore. It would never be perfect again. Or perhaps it could be, just not the right way. Because the blood was oddly beautiful with the way it stained the petals and pooled in the center of the rose.

"I can get you another one," Jack spoke up, "And I'll pay for it this time!"

I turned back to him, smiling down at my little rose.

"No, its okay, Jack. It's a crooked kind of perfect. I think I like it better now."

~All the pretty girls, they find

A way to keep you on my mind

I swear I heard you singing along

Cities pass like candy stores

And you're the one

I'm looking for

And so

I'm just a boy

Who's telling a girl

That when I grow up I'll buy you a rose

When I grow up, I'll buy you a rose~

Lyrics from: Buy You A Rose by AJR

(Author's Note: You may or may not have figured it out by now, but Martina Imogene Linville is insane. MARTY IS NOT THE HERO OF THIS STORY. SHE IS NOT A GOOD PERSON. Marty also had Borderline Personality Disorder before she went insane. So, even at her most stable points in this story, she is not to be trusted. Remember, she manipulates peoples emotions. She makes them feel what she wants them to feel. Any other character's actions may or may not actually be their own. Please keep this in mind going forward.)

[mytrashcanlife]

Ashes to Ashes Jasper X Reader Part 5

It took four days. Four day for the venom to take over. Four days of absolute anguish for the Cullen family. But when you did wake up, it was so much worse than they imagined. You didn’t panic at first. They weren’t expecting denial, or a sense of calm. You jolted awake and immediately sat up. You look around and notice that you are no longer in the kitchen where you remembered fainting. Rosalie is the first speak to you in your confusion.

“(y/n) you’re awake. Thank god, I’m so sorry this happened.”

“What? Rosalie it’s not your fault I fainted. I was probably just dehydrated. I forget to drink water sometimes. I’m sorry I scared you, but really I’m fine. How long was I out? A few minutes?”

“Four days.”

“What? No. If I was in a coma Carlisle would have taken me to the hospital.”

“Oh no.”

“Rosalie what’s wrong?”

“Carlisle!”

“Why are you calling him?” Carlisle and the rest of the family come upstairs to see you.

“She’s awake! Oh, thank god.”

“She doesn’t know.”

“What? What don’t I know?” Carlisle looks at you with guilt in his eyes.

“ (y/n) something happened.”

“Yeah I know I didn’t drink enough water I over-heated and I fainted. It happens all the time. You know this. Carlisle I’m fine just thirsty. See?”

You grab the water bottle you keep on your bedside table and try to drink it, but you move a little too fast and know over the lamp. “Sorry. I’m a little clumsy when I’ve been unconscious for a few minutes.” You take a sip of the water, but the second you try to swallow it you throw it right back up. Violently coughing on the liquid as it makes its way back up your throat. “Okay maybe I am a little sick. That’s weird.” Rosalie leans over to your desk and grabs a mirror.

“(y/n) I’m going to show you something, but I need you stay calm okay?”

“Rosie what is going on?”

She held up the mirror and you saw yourself, but it wasn’t you. Your skin was much paler than usual, and all signs of your usual acne were gone. You looked like you had died, but then you saw your eyes. Red eyes staring back at you instead of (e/c) ones, and you lost it. Your scream frightens even Emmet.

“CARLISLE!”

“Why does everyone always yell at me?”

“Carlisle my eyes are red! I look like a damn ghost, something is wrong! You’re a doctor fix me!”

“(y/n) I can’t fix this”

“WHY NOT?”

Jasper was behind the others in the doorway. He could feel the fear coming off of her in waves.

The others were obviously not prepared for this conversation. He thought about joining in, but Edward gave him a look and he decided to let the others try first. Edward decides to try calming her down.

“Okay (y/n) I need you to calm down. You want Carlisle to fix the problem right? To do that he has to diagnose it, so what are your symptoms?”

“I…I fainted in the kitchen and then apparently I slept for four days. I feel dehydrated and hungry, but I can’t even swallow water. And my eyes are red. And everything is so loud, and bright. This feels like a bad hangover, but worse.”

“Okay. Now tell me where have you heard those symptoms before? Red eyes, thirst, aversion to light…”

“Edward you aren’t making any sense. That sounds like a…” You look up at Carlisle wide eyed and trembling. You shake your head furiously “No…Don’t say it”

“Yes.”

“I’m a vampire? No! no that’s not possible. Vampires aren’t real. They’re horror stories you tell children, so they won’t sneak out after dark, they don’t exist.”

“They do. We are a family of them.”

“But nobody bit me.”

“You are correct nobody bit you, because we never had any intention of turning you, but you don’t actually need to be bitten you just have to get venom in your bloodstream, and it will take over from there.”

“So, if none of you bit me then how did I end up with venom in my blood?”

“You remember that necklace Jane gave you?”

“Yeah, I broke it. It was so fragile I didn’t realize, I cut my hand on it trying to pick it back up and that’s when…I fainted. NO. You can’t be telling me I turned because I cut my hand on glass that had Venom on it. You can’t!”

“I do believe that’s what happened yes.” You sat there in bed for a few moments in silence.

“I don’t believe you. I’m going for a walk.” You stand up to cross the room but you’re down the stairs before you can blink, with the rest of the family right behind you. “What was that?”

“That was a small demonstration of the speed you now possess.”

Jasper could feel the fear rise up again as the realization of what had happened finally hit you.

“So, you’re all vampires? That’s what you’ve been hiding from me? That’s what all this was about you didn’t want me to know?” Edward answers you

“Yes (y/n), you have to understand, we never wanted you to turn, and we aren’t allowed to tell humans about us unless we intend to turn them.”

“So, what you just thought I was never going to figure it out? You thought I’d grow old get a husband and some kids and never noticed my family wasn’t ageing?”

“Not exactly.”

“Then what was the plan? If you weren’t going to turn me exactly how did you think I was never going to catch on?”

“You were going to college”

“So what? You think I wouldn’t visit?” You look around at Your family as they look down with guilty expressions on their faces. Your eyes widen once more in realization “I was never going to get to visit was I? You were planning to never see me again after I left. You were planning to abandon me?” Jasper was concerned now. In the past few months he’d seen you feel a lot of emotions, fear, joy, sadness, but not this. This was pure Rage.

Carlisle tries to defend himself.

“It’s not like that”

“Yes it is Carlisle. You were going to abandon me like everyone else does. Fine then, I’ll just go.”

Alice finally returning from her trip had picked a very bad moment to walk through the door.

“Guys I’m ba-oh my god, (y/n) what happened?”

“Don’t worry about it. I was just leaving.”

You ran. You ran into the woods, and climbed cliff sides as fast as you could. You knew they’d send somebody after you but at that moment you didn’t care. If they were just going to leave you then you might as well save them the trouble. Alice turned to Jasper in shock.

“I didn’t do it.”

Rosalie jumped to his defense for once.

“He didn’t. The Volturi did. Sneaky little bastards.”

“What happened? I was gone for a week and I come back to this? This was not the vision!”

“Yes, it was Alice. You just didn’t realize it.”

“Well someone has to go get her before she hurts someone!”

Carlisle spoke up “I’ll go get her. This is my fault anyway.”

Jasper had enough, “No I think you’ve done enough.”

While they were arguing they failed to realize that Emmet was already gone. He was barely behind you for miles.

“(y/n) please just stop for a minute and talk to me. It’s me. Emmet, Your big brother.” You stopped and turned around

“You lied to me. You were going to leave me.”

“No (y/n) we hadn’t thought this through. You remember how you came to us in the first place right? We got into this situation and put our own lives on the line to help you because we couldn’t just leave you. I know you’re starving, and you’re scared but please just come home.”

You were about to listen to him when a man walked by. It happened so fast you barely had time to register what you were doing before you draining the poor man. The hunger was too much, but once it subsided you were left cowering on the ground with the corpse of an innocent and your hands covered in blood. Emmet tried to pull you off of him, but you sent him flying backwards into a nearby tree. Carlisle Caught up to you and looked down at you in disappointment, and pity.

“(y/n) it’s okay.”

“NO THIS IS NOT OKAY!”

“Do you understand now? Do you understand what you are?”

“I’M A MONSTER”

“No. You are not a monster. You are new to this. It’s going to be okay. Please just come home we can help you.”

Emmet joins Carlisle and reaches his hand out to you. You reach to take it but hesitate and pull back. You look down and shake your head.

“I can’t-“

“You can. I did. We all did. Even jasper did. You wanna know why he acted like he did? It’s because he is new to our lifestyle. We don’t feed on humans we survive on animal blood alone. Jasper is new to that. You were a constant test for him. That is why he was so cold around you. He did it. So, can you.”

You look up at the mention of his name. You pause a moment to think.

“Okay.” You grab Emmet’s hand and the three of you rush back to the house.

The second you enter the house the whole family is staring at you. Rosalie and Alice help you clean up and get some new clothes on. Burning the bloodied ones in the process. You wait until midnight to go to Jasper’s room. You knock on the door

“Come in” shut the door behind you and lean against it.

“I need to talk to you. Somewhere the others can’t hear.”

“Okay. Let’s go.”

The two of you leave through the window in his bedroom and run off into the forest. You follow him until he climbs up to the top of a tree in the center of the forest. He sits at the top leaning on one branch and you sit on another branch across from him.

“What do you need to talk about?”

“Carlisle said something when I ran off…He said that you were also new to their lifestyle and that the only reason you were cold to me was because you had to try really hard to not kill me.”

“That was part of it”

“If you were afraid to hurt me, why did you pick me up from that gas station?”

“Because you were scared, and I knew I wouldn’t hurt you.”

“How did you know that though?”

“Because I never wanted you to be one of us. You were bright, and happy. You embodied the opposite to everything we are.”

“But you didn’t have to turn me. You could have just killed me.”

“I wouldn’t do that. I don’t think I could if I wanted to.”

“But Carlisle said-“

“Carlisle is wrong. Why did you ask me all the way out here for this?”

“I didn’t. There’s something else I need to ask you.”

“Ask.”

“You never lied to me right?”

“Of course not.”

“Good. Don’t start now. How hard is it?” Jasper looks at you with a sadness in his eyes, while he thinks for a second about how to answer that. Finally, he leans forward and looks you In the eyes.

“It hurts like hell. It’s agonizing. You want human blood so much you’ll go through a hundred lions and it won’t be enough to satiate you. You’ll want to give up and run away, but don’t. Because once the withdrawals subside it gets easier. It gets better.”

“one more question.”

“shoot”

“Will I be okay?”

“Yes.” You lean over to his side of the treetop and he envelops you in his arms. You both stay there for a bit. Sometimes people just need a hug, at midnight.

“Okay. Let’s go home. And don’t tell anyone about this.”

“My lips are sealed.” You looked jasper in the eyes, those golden eyes, and smile. The two of you sneak back in through the same window and Jasper distracts the others while you sneak up to your room. You lay down, knowing you won’t be sleeping again, but as you look up at your ceiling you feel like everything is going to be alright.

[mittelfrank-divas]

Dance of the Black Heron chapter 2

The next chapter of my Dancer Hubert fic! In which the other Black Eagles have opinions on this situation.

This fic is now up on AO3 for those who prefer reading there!

===

"I think it's a fine idea." Edelgard rounded one of the long tables in the Black Eagles classroom, carrying a stack of tactics textbooks. It was quickly growing dark outside, and every other student had long ago vacated the classrooms, but the pair of them were often found here at this hour by the flickering light of the candles and the dwindling embers of the fireplace.

At first, tidying the classroom had been an easy excuse for them to meet at night without suspicion. It was a perfectly appropriate activity for the head of the class and her attendant to engage in regularly outside of normal class hours, with obvious evidence of their work that they could point to the next morning if anybody asked where they had been.

Now, although better awareness of the guard rotations and lesser-used passages gave them plenty of other ways to slip out after dark, habit still found them here day after day. Hubert could not help but notice the pride that Edelgard took in maintaining the Black Eagles classroom, making sure the chairs were straightened and every student had their required materials ready in the morning. It did not matter that their classmates could easily retrieve their books and quills themselves, or that the room would be equally serviceable if the chairs were left slightly askew or that the floor could endure going unswept for a few days. Edelgard wanted the classroom to be perfect for her Eagles, and so Hubert was all too happy to assist her in that.

He automatically held out his arms for her to deposit the books into and began distributing them before each chair on one side of the room while Edelgard began passing out her own stack on the other side. He scowled down at the books in his arms as he sought out the one with the broken binding, which he always deliberately placed in front of Ferdinand's chair. "I did not expect you to share in our professor's folly."

"I see no folly in it." Edelgard was not quite so deliberate in her distribution, placing each of her own books without checking its state. Hubert doubted that any of the other Black Eagles noticed that the left side of the classroom always received the same books each day (the nicest one went to Bernadetta and their state of decay decreased down to Ferdinand's) while the right side was randomized, with each equally likely to receive the one wrinkled with water stains on one corner. Her egalitarian approach meant she always finished sooner than Hubert, and so she was first to move behind the professor's desk to retrieve the quills and ink pots. "I know you know how to dance, Hubert. I have seen you do it many times."

"Respectfully," Hubert grumbled, "our little bedroom waltzes hardly compare to a competition that will determine the composition of our class. You have seen me run before, but you would not ask me to participate in a marathon."

"Nonsense." Edelgard turned to him, a pot of ink in each hand. "That comparison would only be suitable if I had watched you outrun the entirety of our class. You are good at dancing. You have proper stance, you keep time well..."

"Lady Edelgard," Hubert set his final book down and met her eyes directly. "Did you convince the professor to choose me?"

Edelgard's pale eyebrows rose. "You are cross with me. No, I did not. I merely advised them that you would be a good choice. They were already considering you."

"I am not cross with you, I am…" Hubert sighed, and slouched down to rest his gloved hands on the table. "Alright. I am cross. I wish you'd consulted with me before agreeing to this."

Edelgard never cowered from anger -- his, or any other's. It was one of the many traits that made him admire her. Her pale lavender eyes met his fully. "I apologize. I thought it best if you heard directly from our professor first. It is not as though they can force the decision upon you, after all, can they?"

"No," Hubert admitted with a sigh, finally moving to retrieve the quills and ink alongside her. "They merely trapped me in my own logic. Forced me to admit that I can see no better option."

"Well?" She flicked her white hair back out of her eyes as she shot him a sidelong glance. "Is your logic flawed? Is there any other who we should choose instead?"

Hubert had been asking himself that very question since the moment he exited the professor's room. Dare he give up their only cavalry unit? Their only assassin? Could he ignore his own predictions that Linhardt would shirk whatever responsibility the role would demand of him? "I am beginning to question whether we require a Dancer in our ranks at all."

"Well then, I am certain that Claude von Riegan will make good use of it," Edelgard said crisply as she laid out quills.

Claude von Riegan. Claude von Riegan with somebody under his command who could effectively double the speed of any attacking unit. Hubert could already imagine a number of scenarios that Claude could manifest with such power in his hands, but worse were the ones that he could not imagine.

"Your attempts to bait me are rather transparent, I'm afraid." Even as he said it, Hubert attempted to shrug off the vision of the future Alliance leader darting out of their peripherals, bow at ready.

"A pity," Edelgard sighed, moving toward the professor's desk. She always made a point of organizing their notoriously scatterbrained teacher's class materials at the end of the day. "I had hoped I was being subtle. Transparent though I may be, however, do tell me if my plan has worked."

Hubert prided himself on his schemes, on his ability to out-think his opponents. Unfortunately, the fact that he had honed his skill by practicing with his closest friend meant that same friend knew him all too well, and easily turned those same skills back on him. "Of course it has," he conceded, and moved to stand in front of the professor's desk while Edelgard sat down in the chair across from him. "You know I cannot bear the thought of giving such a calculating opponent an edge such as this. Well spotted as ever, Lady Edelgard."

She pulled a stack of Byleth's disorganized notes to herself, a small smile creeping onto her face at her victory. Under normal circumstances, Hubert lived to see that smile soften her carefully-managed features. In this case, it was difficult to take joy in one more sign that his doom was sealed. Nevertheless, she nodded at him. "Alright, then. If our only goal is simply to keep the Dancer class out of anyone else's hands, the solution is simple. We send someone else to compete in the White Heron Cup, but we will not make use of the certification once we have it."

Hubert crossed his arms, considering her suggestion. It was an easy way out. They could send Dorothea or even Ferdinand to compete without interfering with their long-term plans. Edelgard was showing him a kindness by offering an alternative. The fact that he recognized it for a kindness made loathing for himself churn in the pit of his stomach. For her to settle on a lesser choice simply for his sake was intolerable. "An elegant solution, but a wasteful one. I doubt you would be satisfied with such a plan."

Edelgard sighed. "Of course I wouldn't be. I think a Dancer would be of great benefit to us, and I think you would be an ideal choice."

Hubert shook his head, leaning down to press both hands against the front of the desk. "I simply fail to understand why."

"It is just as you and the professor said. The Dancer must be able to anticipate the movements of the battlefield and turn it to their advantage. When I am at the front of the line, I want someone who knows my tactics and my plans, who can predict exactly what choices I will make, to be at my back setting the stage. It's true that anyone in our class could do the job adequately, but only you could use such a position to seamlessly carry out my plans." Edelgard leaned across the desk, her hand closing around Hubert's wrist, her pale eyes meeting his fiercely. "I would never order you down a path that you found intolerable, Hubert. If this is truly unbearable for you, then we will find another solution. I just wish you could see how much I think you would shine in such a role."

She truly had so much faith in him. Not just to be a Dancer, but to be her Dancer. Someone who could help her achieve her lofty goals. Maybe, if he actually could succeed in winning the certification…

Hubert's hand went to his head, pushing his black hair out of his eyes. "This is foolishness. It is not a test of skill, but of charm. You know that I could manage to hit every step perfectly and the judges will still favor whoever has the most attractive smile."

Edelgard's eyes glinted confidently. "And is that such a bad thing? You know as well as I that charm is a matter of manipulating perceptions." She leaned forward, using her grip on Hubert's arm to pull herself across the desk. At her height, Edelgard practically had to lay across the expanse of the wood surface to lean close to him, but she somehow managed it. "Hubert," she said lowly so none passing by the open door could hear, "when we constructed the Flame Emperor together, remember what you said? That we must create an image that strikes awe into the hearts of all who see him. It will not be you dancing out there. It will be the image we create for you. So let us create that image. Will you permit that?"

An image. A persona, like the Flame Emperor. Hubert could not imagine himself standing before the entire school, hoping to convince them of his appeal with a charisma he did not possess. But thinking of it as simply another mask…

His other hand closed over hers. "If you are behind me, I can try."

***

The evening was still early when he found his way to the ground-level dorms. Light glowed warmly from the open doors and windows of the cafeteria, chatter and laughter filtering down the stone staircase. It was a crisp fall evening, not yet cold enough to keep the students from lingering around the fishing pond or drifting slowly toward their dorms while carrying on their dinner conversations, trying to delay the night of studying ahead. It would not be, therefore, considered terribly untoward for Hubert to be standing outside of Dorothea's chambers at this time. He took a moment to steel himself before knocking sharply on her door.

He highly doubted that he was remotely within the sphere of people who Dorothea hoped would be standing on the other side of her door, yet her smile was dazzling anyway. The songstress knew how to perform even in the most mundane of venues. "Hubie! It's not like you to make social calls. Are you here to scold me for forgetting to use Edie's title again? Or is this about that saucy joke I made yesterday? Was that too much for her delicate royal ears to hear?"

Hubert stifled a sigh, already regretting this conversation. Dorothea's personality was entirely too much for him to face directly like this. Her irreverence around Lady Edelgard had been a point of contention in their first few weeks at the academy, but Edelgard herself enjoyed Dorothea's brash attitude and had told him to let it go. Truth be told, Hubert also took a certain amount of pleasure in watching a commoner breezily ignore social mores the way that Dorothea did, pointedly affixing his fellow nobles with all-too-personal nicknames rather than a deferential title. But it was a spectacle that he preferred to appreciate at a distance, without the full force of the songstress's energy and wit directed at him.

"Nothing so serious as that, I assure you." Hubert stiffly folded his hands behind his back, sifting through his mental notes to recall exactly how he had rehearsed this conversation. Unfortunately Dorothea's chaotic nature had already derailed his plans, leaving him to leaf frantically through his script to work out what to say next. The sound of laughter echoing across the square made him uncomfortably aware of the other students and monastery residents moving around behind him. "I thought perhaps that you should hear it first. The professor has chosen our candidate for the White Heron Cup."

He saw her smile falter a bit, and knew that she was doing the math. If Byleth had chosen her, then surely Byleth would be the one to deliver the news. Still, her voice remained as bright as ever. "Really? That's great news! Who is it?"

Hubert could not stand to look at that fading smile anymore, and his eyes found a particularly fascinating crack in the wall by her door. "You should know that this was not at all an easy choice. It was less a matter of who could succeed in the competition than of who we could afford to remove from another role. The composition of our class is..."

"Hubie," all warmth had drained from her voice now, replaced with a dangerous edge. "If you've come all this way just to soothe my feelings over Ferdie being chosen over me, you can just get it over with."

The very suggestion that Hubert would ever choose Ferdinand von Aegir shocked him into looking at her again. "We need Ferdinand on his horse, loathe as I am to admit that. Just as we need you continuing to study both Reason and Faith, a combination that we otherwise lack." He shifted awkwardly, resisting the urge to either fidget or flee. "I have been over the class roster many times, and unfortunately I see no other way around it. The professor is of the opinion that the only one who can be spared for this role is myself."

A single laugh burst out of Dorothea's mouth before she covered it with both hands. "Oh Hubie! Oh I'm sorry, it's not funny. It's just unexpected."

"I am quite aware of how unexpected it is," Hubert muttered, once again taking tremendous interest in the details of the wall beside her. "Which is precisely why I must request your assistance. There can be no doubt that you are our most gifted dancer. Moreover, you have experience with performing before an audience. I wish to ask for your help in preparing for this competition."

Dorothea stared up at him, cautious skepticism on her face. She did not trust nobles, and he shared in her loathing. Hubert himself nearly forgot sometimes that he would be considered one of them in her eyes. Dorothea may have acted cheerful around her classmates, but Hubert had seen the way she sometimes seemed to be bracing for them to turn on her. She looked like she was bracing for that now. "I'm sorry, did you say you need my help? You, Hubie, need my help."

"That is what I said, yes."

Dorothea snorted. "I'm surprised you aren't asking Ferdie, since he seems so very convinced of his superiority in every realm, including dance."

"I do not entertain that one's foolish ramblings." Hubert smirked as he said it, and was pleased that a smile crept back onto Dorothea's own face. She made clear her feelings on Ferdinand -- loudly, and as often as possible -- and it seemed that he won an ally in her on this front. "As much as it pains me to admit my own failings, I know that you are much more practiced in this arena than myself. If you are willing to assist me in this, I would be grateful."

She granted him that warm smile that she shared so freely with her classmates. "Well with a request like that, how can I refuse? Alright, Hubie. How about we meet on the training grounds tonight?"

Hubert felt his heart rate spike just at the thought of being caught practicing in such a public area. The training grounds were less crowded in the evenings, but there were many students who remained there even late into the night. There would be no hope of privacy in such a place. "Actually, I have somewhere more private in mind, if you'll allow. I'll meet you here at your room after class tomorrow and show you the way."

Her smile twisted itself into a sly grin. "Why Hubie, if you wanted to get me alone, a simple dinner invitation would have sufficed."

Now he did sigh. Truly, she was relentless. "I assure you, I have no such intentions. But if this is your way of requesting an exchange for your services, I will see what I can do about a meal."

"No fun at all," Dorothea sighed back, though he could see that she was still teasing him rather than truly disappointed. "Forget it, then. I'll see you tomorrow."

Dorothea closed the door, leaving Hubert standing awkwardly outside. He had the rest of the night ahead of him to fret over what awaited him at Dorothea's lessons.

***

Hubert had never before dreaded class. In fact, against all reason, he even sometimes enjoyed it.

That had been an unexpected development. That Hubert would accompany Edelgard to Garreg Mach, the very seat of the Church of Seiros, that he would attend classes alongside the frivolous sons and daughters of nobility, that he would sit in front of some church-approved professor and listen to their tiresome lectures… and he would not hate it. Sometimes he even learned something. Sometimes he even forgot that he was here under false pretenses, that he was only pretending to be a student in order to further Edelgard's aims.

But class had never before felt like such a trap. Never had he so cursed Edelgard's preference for sitting in the very front row, as well as his own decision to accompany her there. Hubert felt that every single pair of eyes in the room must have been on the back of his head. Surely such a thought was irrational, since only Edelgard and Dorothea yet had reason to suspect his distraction when he failed to turn his tactics textbook to the correct page.

Worse, their distractible professor left Hubert to suffer in silence through the entire lecture, carrying on as though his humiliation was not imminent. It was only when Byleth was about to dismiss them for lunch, threatening to draw out the torture even further, that Edelgard came to his rescue. "Professor, I believe you had intended to make an announcement."

Byleth paused, blinking at Edelgard in that dreamy way they always did when they forgot vital information, such as their own plans. "Oh, yes. We've chosen our candidate for the White Heron Cup."

A general murmur of excitement rippled through the classroom. Hubert pointedly closed his book and began organizing his things, trying very hard to ignore the chatter behind him.

"You were wanting to be choosing, weren't you Ferdinand?"

"I assure you, I know nothing about the professor's choice. If they have selected me, this is the first I am hearing of it."

"It's not me, right? You wouldn't pick me just to make fun of me, would you? Oh no! You have, haven't you? Aaaaaaah I don't want to do iiiiiiiiit!"

"Finally!" Caspar's voice rang out over Bernadetta's cries. "Who'd you pick, professor? We've got so many good dancers here, I bet we'll win no matter what!"

Byleth did not waste time on drawing out the suspense with theatrics. "I've chosen Hubert."

The din faded to uneasy silence. Of all the times that Edelgard had urged the Black Eagles to learn the art of being quiet, somehow this was the moment in which the lesson finally took.

"I don't think he's a bad choice at all." Dorothea jumped in to helpfully damn Hubert with faint praise.

"Indeed, if the strategy is to frighten the judges into choosing our house, you could not ask for a better candidate." Linhardt, naturally, chose to wake up from his nap exclusively for the purpose of contributing this jab.

Having run out of anything left to do with his own class materials, Hubert moved on to straightening Edelgard's notes for her. Might as well let his classmates get this out of their system so they could hopefully never speak of this again.

"Hubert's not going to assassinate the judges, is he? Noooo I can't be an accessory to murder!"

"Bernie, nobody's going to assassinate anyone."

"Is this being a contest of violence? I thought it was of dance."

"No, there's no violence. Bernie's just being dramatic."

"Imagine if it was though? Like what if we had to fistfight Alois to win? That would be awesome!"

"But I don't want to fistfight Alois!"

"Bernie, absolutely nobody is asking you to fistfight Alois."

"Well I trust in our professor's decisions." A single voice boomed above all the others. Caspar may have existed in a perpetual state of yelling, but Ferdinand von Aegir projected his voice at all times as though he was in the midst of orating to a crowd. "I am certain that they have good reason to choose Hubert to represent the Black Eagles house, and we should be proud to support him. Why, regardless of whether or not he's had training, with a few weeks, he should--"

"I have, actually." Hubert was already out of his chair and turning to face Ferdinand before his nerves had a chance to catch up with him. The ginger with his all-too-bright smile was staring at Hubert, startled at being interrupted mid-speech. "Which is something you might already know if you ever deigned to dance with those you consider beneath your status, Ferdinand."

Ferdinand's mouth hung agape, his ears turning a satisfying shade of scarlet. "What is that supposed to--"

"Alright!" Edelgard stood, inserting herself between them as she stepped into the center of the classroom. "Honestly, is this any way to behave before a competition? We are supposed to present a united front before the other houses. I expect all of you to give Hubert your full support, just as you would any one of us."

Hubert made a point of avoiding any further eye contact as he exited the classroom. With resounding support such as this from his own class, did he even need rivals to compete with? Perhaps they might send one of Bernadetta's plush toys to compete and save him the trouble.

[lilacerull0]

LITTLE WOMEN FANFICTION

CHAPTER 2, PART 1: INVISIBLE STRING

Horizons and Sunsets

 

"Time, curious time, gave me no compasses, gave me no signs"

- invisible string, Taylor Swift

Concord, Massachusetts, 1868

 

Rays of sunshine playing on her skin. Soft grass under her fingers. Little specks of dirt scattered across her face. Leaves tangled up in her hair. It's not a common happening to be able to see yourself in such a way. A way that makes it seem like you are not you, but somebody else wearing somebody else's clothes, guarding somebody else's heart, owning somebody else's thoughts. Like you are only an observer, a background noise in your own life. These descriptions are usually used in unpleasant connotations, usually as metaphors, usually as another way of saying you feel transparent, forgotten and small. But in Jo's case, the phenomenon is not even a tiny bit metaphorical. Maybe it's the impact of the books. Maybe it's her imagination. Maybe it's just her. Whatever it is, Jo has always been able to see her life as a theatre piece, herself an audience member, her past self, no matter how far back she might travel to reach a certain memory, a performer.  And Jo craves those moments of remembrance. She craves the feeling of transparency. She craves to exist less.

 

Everything she remembers, she remembers in flashes. Her memories do not understand concepts such as "chronology" or "order". Her brain resembles an unsolved puzzle. Every piece of information she has makes sense. But when to be put together with another aspect of her being, it does not fit. Nothing about her ever seems to fit. And now, she doesn't fit within herself.

 

No, Jo March is not a puzzle. Puzzle, no matter how difficult and complex, can be put together.

 

She's a living breathing contradiction.

What else to describe the utter ridiculousness of her mind? She is not happy and she is not sad. One second she is completely content with her life, the other, she is not. She wants to receive love, love and love, but she is afraid to offer it.

 

When Josephine March loves someone, she does not tell them. She does show, but never tells. She never uses the famous simple phrase. Never not once.

 

Her best friend burns for the people he loves. Jo burns for them in secret.

 

And here, as she is seeing herself splattered in sunlight, Jo March is preoccupied with three actions of extraordinary importance.

 

One is chasing ghosts.

Other is rearranging thoughts,

Final is accepting sunsets.

 

***

 

Paris, France, 1868

Theodore (yes, he is "Theodore" now) is not exactly sure where he is or how did he get there. His vision is blurry and his body feels heavier than usual. What is fascinating about his situation is the fact that consuming certain "substances", (and substances being of alcoholic nature), were supposed to prevail him from feeling like this. From feeling the way he's been feeling his entire life. Like everything around him was frozen and he was the only one moving. He was just too fast, too warm, too different. Enormous in emotion, reckless in thought. All of this often led to conclusions too horrific to comprehend, so he tried to avoid thinking.

The thought of having too many emotions might be terrifying. But the thought of having too much love for everything and everyone but himself was rather paralyzing. It was ridiculous to expect anybody to feel with as much passion as he did. It was ridiculous to demand such a thing from people. Why would anyone put all of their energy into someone else when there were so many things to be done in the world? But those other things rarely sparked an interest in him. Adventures, boarding schools, trips and experiences seemed irrelevant and hollow unless they were intended to be shared. It's funny how he always craved the one thing he never had. And when he finally got a glance of the love he so desperately wanted, he lost it because of his stupid absurd annoying emotions.

When Theodore Laurence loves someone he does not tell them. He screams it until his lungs are on fire.

 

His best friend loves with her whole entire heart. He loves with his whole entire being.

 

And now, vision blurry and body heavy, Theodore Laurence finds himself preoccupied with three actions of extraordinary importance.

 

One is chasing ghosts.

Other is rearranging thoughts,

Final is accepting sunsets.

 

***

Concord, Massachusetts, 1862

 

Step one: chasing ghosts

Sand beneath her bare feet. Water. Silent whispers of the sea. Birds. Colors. Nothing. Everything. Oh, to be crafted in such a way to believe you shall always be sixteen and silly and reckless and real. That is how Jo feels right now. Real. Right here, observing, enjoying, doing nothing but existing. And the sea! So mystical and wide, appearing endless in its presence, it looks like something in possession of a dream rather than this time and place. And the best part of this? Her family. They all resemble a painting in their natural messiness. Amy with her hair half wet, positioned in a way she believes to be ladylike, smiling at the horizon, sketchbook in hand. Meg, holding her hat so that it doesn't leave her in its desperate wish to follow the wind, shoes untied, eyes glistening from laughter she experienced seconds before. Beth, oh sweet Beth, kneeling by the water, touching the shining surface, mouth moving as though she is singing to the sea itself. Teddy is by her side, like he always is, sitting with his eyes closed, head held high up to the sky. He would probably refer to his current position as a way to "suck out all the marrow out of life", which always sounded a bit inappropriate coming from his mouth, but Jo loved the symbolism of the phrase, so she decided to put her friend's foolishness to the side.

 

"Isn't it simply ethereal, dearest Teddy?"

 

"Yes, I did indeed think my face had a particular glow to it this morning, your kind remark is very well appreciated, Miss March" came a teasing response shortly followed by a light smack to the arm (because Jo, being an experienced bookworm, always had a book weapon down her sleeve).

 

"Oh Teddy, you're such a boy sometimes. I find it quite disappointing really." said Jo being perfectly aware of the effect the comment might cause. Teddy shot her a look of a supposedly hurt individual, put a hand over his heart and exhaled loudly, as though he was a character in a Shakespearean tragedy. Jo rolled her eyes at the glamorous gesture, but pretty quickly, her features were changed with a thoughtful expression. She turned her head to Teddy timelines after, only to be greeted with a no longer playful, but a reassuring smile. He knew her too well.

 

"You know, it doesn't make it any less beautiful. The fact that it's all going to end one day, I mean. Quite the opposite actually."

 

She does not answer that. She gets up from the ground and extends her hand to him.

 

"If it's going to end, we might as well suck all of the existing marrow out of it."

 

"Oh, what a wonderful choice of words, dearest Jo!" he exclaims theatrically while gladly accepting her hand

 

"Oh, what a wonderful life, dearest Teddy."

 

And with that, they run to the sea, their lungs almost too full, smiles almost too big. Spirits almost too free.

 

 

Childhood is a thing of dreams.

 

 

Concord, Massachusetts, 1863

 

Step two: rearranging thoughts

 

Trousers under skirts. It's scandalous. Scandalous and inappropriate. At least that's what society will label it as. And society loves labels. But Laurie finds a solace of sorts in his friend's choice of clothes. He isn't sure how to explain it (he is not as good with words as Jo is), but it's comforting to see someone be so unapologetically themselves, whoever that person might be. He tells her this one day because he's Laurie and he isn't familiar with the concept of "silencing your emotions".

 

"Teddy, don't flatter, I told you I do not enjoy nor support such doings. You might as well go practice your gentlemanly manners on Amy, I'm sure she will accept your words of so called admiration with much more enthusiasm than yours truly." says Jo, her voice a tiny bit too loud, her thoughts meeting the outside world in grave speed. Laurie often finds himself wondering how one speaks with so much passion and rush, it's like Jo's sentences are running instead of flowing. She shares her mind without looking at him, her hands busy with rearranging the dining table previously covered with Amy's unfinished drawings and Beth's beloved dolls.

 

"I meant what I said, Jo. But since you believe I'm incapable of offering sincerity, I shall escort myself out."

 

He gets up from the place he was sitting at and rushes out of the March house, leaving his waistcoat behind him. Jo knows better than to follow him right away. She will bring him the forgotten object later, once he's ready to start unravelling burdens.

 

 

***

 

Night.

 

Light.

 

 

These two nouns aren't supposed to get along very well, yet here we are. Jo finds herself awake in the middle of the night, which circumstance she is no stranger to, but this time it is not her restless mind that steals her from the arms of dreamland. It's light. Jo gets up, careful not to make a noise, and looks out the window to further investigate the strange occurring. And the sight her eyes are met with is a sight so undoubtedly Teddy-like that she isn't sure if she will be able to forgive herself for not coming up with such a conclusion sooner. The house of her neighbour, who happens to be her dearest friend, is shining with what she presumes is light of about two dozen candles. The scene would've been inspiring, if not captivating, especially for a person of her making, but Jo knows Teddy and this cannot mean anything pleasant. Therefore, she decides to pay her fellow pirate a visit, armed with a forgotten piece of clothing as a faithful enough excuse.

 

Proud of herself for avoiding all the obstacles successfully (and the obstacles being sleeping family members who have yet to be introduced to the pleasures such as "sleepless nights" or "windows"), Jo runs to the construction once known as a house, now as a gothic castle and knocks. Her efforts are answered with a voice of not a person, but a peculiarly human like ghost.

 

"Who is it?"

 

"Do you really think I will dare share information of an importance so big, oh so grand, without seeing your face, kind sir?" says not Jo, but a righteous, noble knight, his devotion as admirable as amusing.

 

Laurie opens the door only to be met with a grinning Jo.

 

"I believe you have forgotten this, my friend."

exclaims an unlike lady, kneels down and offers him his waistcoat in a way so grandiose, some might think she actually was a knight in shining armor, sharing sunlight, providing hope.

 

"Don't be a goose Jo" came a gentlemanly response followed by an annoyed sound and indifferent expression. Laurie turns around, but leaves the door wide open. Jo, understanding the message quite well, follows him inside to a candle lit room. Laurie approaches the piano and sits down as though he is about to start playing the instrument, but he doesn't confirm the logical assumption. Instead, he closes his eyes and remains like that for what feels like eternity, looking like a human statue. It would've been comical if it were anybody else, but Jo was familiar with Teddy's passion for extravagance. His behaviour does not spark laughter, but concern.

 

"Teddy, I think you should start explaining whatever it is you need to explain. Keeping it in won't do anybody any good despite you believing it will. I promise, you won't be a burden."

 

Laurie shifts in his position and exhales loudly, his eyes still closed. When he starts to speak, his voice is not his. It's distant and decorated with occasional trembles which he is desperately trying to avoid.

"When I told you today how I find solace in the way you carry yourself and how you wear trousers and don't care about what people think of you, I wasn't trying to mess around or anything. Sometimes... Sometimes I feel like I am not me... Like I'm not a good match for myself and I..." he opens his eyes at that, not sure if he wants to receive a response to any of the things he has just said.

 

"I am deeply sorry Jo, this doesn't make any sense, you can go, I don't know what came of me."

 

"Oh Teddy, but it does make sense! It makes so, so much sense." Jo doesn't say that like she wants to comfort him. She really seems to mean it. Their gazes meet at the exact same time, their eyes glossy (which observation they will both dismiss in immense respect to one another), their faces now beautified with soft smiles.

 

"You do realize you are wearing a night gown right?"

 

"I am not the one randomly lighting up candles, impersonating ghosts now, am I?"

"It's called dramatic effect, Jo! Dramatic effect! And keep the waistcoat, I never really liked it anyways."

***

After that day, Jo and Laurie's closets were left grieving for lost members of their separate societies. Blouses, neckties and waistcoats were introduced to the idea of travel and adventure. And even though the closets were left in grief, their owners were more than satisfied with the not so sudden change.