#if anyones curious bc i just realized not everyone deals with those things. the thing thats in macs hand is a omnipod pod

[st4rstudent]

stubborn

no text ver

[waklman]

Not Strong Enough

summary: bradley struggles to understand his grief or you ask bradley why he doesn’t like when people take care of him.

warnings: heavy talks of parental death, mental health, and medicine/medication. 18+ blog.

word count: 1.8k

this is for boygenius fans who also took the line ‘once i took your medication to know what it’s like’ line quite literally bc haha same 👍🏻, not sure if it'll even translate well but lol

something ‘bout you masterlist.

Bradley Bradshaw had been a freshly twenty three when he first discovered that yellowed pill bottle hidden away in his bathroom cabinet. For all these years, the plastic casing was stashed behind a deteriorating box of waterproof band-aids and a decade-old bottle of rubbing alcohol, not meant to be found by anyone else but Carole Bradshaw. 

So, when his innocent search for a first aid kit ended with him blankly staring at a cluster of tiny blue tablets spilled into the palm of his hand, the first thought that crossed his mind was to put it away. He knew his mother was no longer around to finish off her prescription, he should put them back where she had originally left them. It’d be wrong if he were to toss them down, especially when they weren’t his to take.

But Bradley Bradshaw did it anyway. 

In swallowing down the expired medication, cupping a handful of sink water to aid himself, a sick expectation had welled up within Bradley that night. A part of him hoped that once they dissolved in his stomach—he’d finally be able to understand why she needed them in the first place—that it would give him a glimpse into the mind of the woman he was so curious about. That, if he just had a mere taste of what Carole Bradshaw had taken daily without his knowledge, he'd somehow be closer to her in that way.

Once they settled, Bradley would be able to encapsulate her essence, gaping that bridge he wedged between them. Perhaps then, he'd stop feeling so guilty for looking like a splitting image of her dead husband while she was combating her grief. 

But for a plastic tube so brightly colored, it held something so unbelievably numb.

Laying stiffly across the bed he’d already started to outgrow, limbs dangling off the ends of the mattress, a black hole began to materialize—tearing right through his chest that night.

Carole Bradshaw never had to outwardly say it, but Bradley knew she struggled with things he couldn’t begin to fully comprehend as a young boy, barely grazed by the cruelty of the world. So, he did his best to not be another problem for her to deal with growing up, as she had fair share of those in her lifetime. 

In elementary school, Bradley was the only student seated quietly, scribbling drawings of airplanes into his name tag with a thick blue crayon, while everyone else cried for their parents on the first day of school. It had been a strange revelation for a child to come to, that he needed to learn how to be alone—how to be without his parents, in case they both weren’t there anymore.

Yet, by the second grade he came to terms with that. 

And throughout highschool and college, Bradley made sure to stay out of the line of trouble, for the sake of his mother who made herself sick with worry. Despite what others may think, Bradley paid special attention to his grades, in the same way Carole tended to the burst of star shaped lilies planted in their backyard. And in times where he felt alone during his youth, it almost felt cruel to voice that back to his mother when she asked him ‘How was your day sweetheart?’

It was only when she passed that he finally cried out to her, gripping onto that limp hand by the hospital bedside. It was only when Bradley was truly alone in his life that he felt it was enough to finally say it outloud. 

But in his true nature, Bradley bounced back.

The realization that came to him when he was a child, that he’d eventually stretch out the rest of his life alone, hit him again. Moving forward, he had been so sure that he’d be fine with that. There was no room to feel a semblance of pain if he kept everyone at an arm's length away. It somewhat worked to ease him off the loss of Carole, and it should work with everything else in life. But, the universe had different plans for him, when they led him to you.

It had been another night you two spent staring at the stars, sitting on the same blanket on his front lawn, where Bradley found himself not thinking twice about everything he said. Maybe it was the comfort the night sky provided him, or maybe it was because he was just talking to you.

“Hey Bradley?” you call out for him, cutting through the silence. “Why don’t you let people do things for you?”

Bradley keeps his eyes trained on the lights dusted besides the full moon, knowing you were looking at it too. “What do you mean?” He softly asks, delaying a bit.

Slowly, you turn your head, admiring freckles that speckled across his cheek. They lightly danced over the scars adorning his face, and just barely kissed over the tip of his nose. And despite the array of stars twinkling right in front of you, trying to catch your attention again as they glimmered—you had always found him much more mesmerizing.

Bradley Bradshaw was a once in a lifetime sight you had the privilege of seeing up close. And for that reason, you can’t look away from him, not now at least. 

“When people let you skip them in line, you don’t do it,” you warily pause, watching Bradley nod as you start. “Then you do that thing where you buy your own beers before your team gets to the Hard Deck, so they don’t beat you to it,” you bite your lip, digging through your list of observations.

“And you have this look when I do stuff for you, like, you don’t understand why I’m making you lunch or why I’m buying you stupid things that remind me of you,” you finally share, stretching your legs out. 

The silence that lingers after is heavy.

Bradley takes in a quiet breath, reminded by the life sized teddy bear you lugged into his apartment just last week. “It’s not something I’m used to,” he provides weakly, recalling the way you excitedly screeched at him when the bear fit perfectly on his couch. He’s still not looking at you as he continues. “It’s..it’s dumb. But the idea of someone looking after me, even if it's in a small way. I just…it feels weird for me.” 

Everyone he knew, acted as if they hit the jackpot when someone else confessed that they loved them ardently. But while others wished for a moment like that, Bradley wished against it—it would be too burdensome for him. Bradley never wanted someone to love him again, not until now.

“Do you…not like when I do things for you? Is that something you don’t–”

“No. When it’s you, it feels different, ” he cuts you off suddenly. “When you pack me lunch, I feel good eating it. I don’t…I don’t feel guilty eating it,” his head drops, hanging forward like a weight. There had been so many times he secretly threw up his own mother’s cooking, thinking it would hurt less if he didn’t take her token of love. “I hate feeling bad about things like that, it’s not normal,” he confesses.

You blink back the tears coating your eyes, not wanting to lose sight of his starlike freckles. “I want to help you feel good Bradley,” you whisper, fingers twitching at your side.

Swallowing thickly, your eyes dart between the solemn expression he’s wearing and the scrunch his fingers give the thin blanket below him. “I want you to feel okay with being loved, you deserve it as much as anyone else does. I want that for you now, and I think…I would’ve wanted it for you if we were both kids.—if I was lucky enough to know you when I was ten.” 

At that, Bradley finally smiles, and it doesn’t seem so tasking to do so. “Would you have sat next to me in class?” He finally turns to you, starting a study of your face, realizing that you glow brighter than the stars shining above both of you.

“In class, and during lunch time. Then we would have hung out during recess too because obviously I win you over with my charms,” you softly smile at him, playing with the idea.

It’s too late for it now—the possibility of you two growing up together as kids. But a part of Bradley likes to imagine it anyway.

If you had been there during his quiet walks home from school, it would have kept his tears from falling. If you fell over in a heated game of tag, he would’ve kissed over your bruised knees like he does now. And if you were there when he came home to an empty house, he wouldn’t have taken Carole’s medication to know what it’s like to be someone who loved him.  

“What if all I did was draw the ugliest airplane models?” 

“I was a pretty weird kid. I’d probably sit there drooling while watching you doodle,” you confirm, biting your lip to suppress a small laugh.

Bradley extends his hand out to you, uncurling your lip from your teeth to hear it spill from you. Right as he does, you finally giggle in his palm. “Hey, don’t start droolin’ on me Babybear,” he warns, laughing with you.

With his hand cupping your cheek, he leans in to press a quick kiss to your smiling mouth. “I wish we could’ve been kids together,” he cements, pulling back. 

“Bradley,” you lean into his hand, warming his calloused palm. “Did you forget about us snatching the last toy plane right from that kid in Target the other day?” 

Bradley lightly shrugs, tracing his hand up to tousle your hair. “We have more fun with that plane than he ever will,” he decides, leaving his hand there, holding the top of your head firmly. 

Head clamped under his fingers, you nod. “I bet he wishes he could fly it as high as we do when I’m sittin’ on your shoulders.”

“That’s right,” he gradually nods in agreement. 

“Speaking of, let’s go back inside and fly it after you take your medication,” you sternly point a finger at him, pairing it with a look.

Bradley mindlessly begins to draw an outline of a plane into your scalp, using his index resting over the back of your head. “Will you feed it to me?” 

“That’s a silly question. You know I always do,” you tilt your head slightly. 

Bradley softens, finishing off his invisible sketch, adding the detail to the airplane wing. 

“Yeah, you always do,” he echoes. 

Lieutenant Bradshaw had been thirty nine when he first discovered he’d been prescribed the medication his mother once took. Instead of her name printed across the label, there was his name. Bradley Nick Bradshaw.

But, when it finally came time to take it, Bradley was never shaking above the sink, apprehensive as it spilled out into his palm, no. Because you were always there, softly whispering I love yous as you gently dipped it into his mouth.

Bradley Bradshaw was never left curious about how it felt to love someone like him, not when you kept telling him how rewarding it was.

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[limeade-l3sbian]

i’m not so much talking about whether you would like it or not, but rather: do you see yourself as a person who needs romantic companionship in your life eventually? obviously you won’t disintegrate without, but i’m talking needing as in for your psychological and physical well-being in the long run.

i’ve come to realize i cannot relate to this and people who aren’t able to go without being in a relationship are to me so strange, even though that honestly seems to be the norm. i don’t even want a romantic relationship. not to say i would be against falling in love and all that but i don’t dream of it and i certainly don’t crave it. i’m curious how you are in this regard? obviously i don’t know you, but you strike me a someone who functions well alone too.

i get that wanting romance is normal in theory but i don’t understand why.

there’s lots of other things i totally get the need for, but this and sex are two things that are on the same spectrum of inconsequential to me. that’s also why i’ll never be able to rightfully contribute to the celibate convo that’s been going on in radfem spaces in regards to heterosexual women, because even though i’m not asexual, i genuinely don’t get the big deal of living without romance and sex. people will say it’s unfair to ask that of anyone and i’ll think it probably IS for the average person, but to me it still seems totally unrelatable to not be able to live full lives without it. this isn’t a convo of to be or not to be celebate btw, i’m just adding it as an example of when this feeling of not needing romance has really shown it’s face in my life and hindered my, i guess, empathy? and that’s why i never join that convo bc i can see i’m the odd one out.

it’s honestly so embarrassing to an extent. i wish more people spoke of this but when i’ve tried to speak of it in some contexts elsewhere, i immediately get labeled all these different things like “aromantic” and “asexual” and i’m just not. i’m not against romance. it’s not that i can’t feel it. same with attraction and such. but it’s really easy to ignore for me, like no biggie. there’s so many other bigger more important emotions and experiences in my eyes. almost everyone wants romance and partnership but to me it just seems kinda tiring and risky. like why risk my peace for a thing that does in most cases end by breaking up for whatever reasons? it’s not me being scared of it but i don’t see the point of the effort i guess..

friendships i get and they are important to me. i don’t see them as replacements or anything for romance. i just value those more and i think they seem more genuine to me? i’m not in a situation where i couldn’t find safe partners bc i am bisexual with mainly attraction to women but even then i still have no desperation for love like that. if it happens, that’s cool but i’ve come to realize that if i don’t actively seek it out it’s pretty easy to go through your life without any romantic relationships in peace. obviously the same maybe can’t be said for ultra attractive people but for mediocre folks like myself, life is pretty peaceful in that regard unless i actively tried to put myself out there which i won’t lol.

it’s not like i hate seeing romantic stuff. movies or books with romantic plots can be super cute and enjoyable for me but i don’t crave those things in my life even. when i see it. i don’t sigh after it. it’s like seeing a video of someone trying bungeejumping. it looks fun and cool but i wouldn’t go out of my way to seek the experience out because my life is fine without it.

am i totally alone in this feeling i wonder

I think in recent years there has been a weird push for romantic relationships and what the "best version" of them looks like. And, to be honest, your assumption is correct.

I think I cared in high school I got swept up in wanting to date because teenage romance seemed so romantic to me. But now, as an adult, I feel no intense need to be with someone. I'm not asexual and I'm not opposed to love or sex, like you said. I just...don't care? I just care about having people in my life who I care about and who care about me.

And with the asexual thing. In an increasingly hypersexual world, I think people are quick to "other" those of us who just don't really care. So if you don't crave love and need sex, you must be asexual. Which is...false, on a lot of levels.

To be honest, this whole reply could just be me restating, "Like you said" lmao. You and I have a pretty mutual feeling about the whole thing. I'm at peace with the state of my social life. I don't feel any pressure to be married or to date or whatever. When it happens, it happens, and I go for it. But when things don't work out? I mean, that's just life, I feel like.

[berrymoos]

Hiii!!! If it's not too much to request 😅 could I ask for Steven, Marc and maybe even Jake if you can..??? with💡, 🧸, 🎮 and 🃏.

Completely fine if not!!!

Hope you're having an amazing day/evening/night!!! (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)!!!

this is not too much to request at all, my friend!! (≡^∇^≡) the moonboys my beloved, ty for the ask!! <3

🐠 — steven!

💡. how did they discover age regression?

honestly i can imagine steven stress-regressing after a particularly bad day at work / dealing with donna, and after all is said n done, he immediately hops into some research about it – like he is scouring the internet for answers, literally going down a rabbithole. he has mixed feelings when he discovers that fuzzy prickling in his brain is age regression, but ends up coming around to it after he sits down and thinks; despite the crying and the heavy chest during the entire thing, steven realizes how much ... better he'd felt afterward

🧸. what's their favorite toy?

not exactly a toy, but steven has a ton of egyptian-themed books aimed for children lying in a little pile of their own in his flat: educational books, chapter books, picture books, fun books (like i-spy or coloring) ... he's got a ton! post-show, he gets a blueberry-scented blue-and-white stuffed puppy named raz, & steven reads to him!

🎮. what's their favorite thing to do when they're small?

reading & otherwise working in those aforementioned egyptian-themed books! listening to music or having the tv on a low volume puts the icing on the cake!

🃏. random headcanon about their regression!

can, will, & has gotten into an endless “why?” loop with everyone in the mooncule (jake, marc, & layla) + tawaret & khonshu before. it's rarely to be annoying or anything; he's just a curious guy! (... he was trying to annoy khonshu tho jehdwkjdwk)

🌙 — marc!

💡. how did they discover age regression?

marc has 100%, without a doubt, involuntarily regressed before on a handful of occasions – i mean, with all he's been through it's no wonder he has intervals where he just buries himself underneath the blankets of his bed & cries. whenever it happens, he just tries to forget afterward, to bury it in the back of his mind & pretend it never happened... it isn't until marc finds out steven regresses & he gets an explanation that he realises, “oh. so this is ... okay?” . takes him a little longer to actually regress willingly because of all the other times he's vent-dropped, but once he finally has a space that allows him to relax, it's ... good. great, actually

🧸. what's their favorite toy?

oh my god he's got this stuffed bunny named miffy that he carries literally everywhere; they're attached at the hip. wherever marc is, miffy is right there – wherever miffy is, marc is right there. the only place he doesn't take miffy is outside, because 1). he doesn't want her to get dirty!! & 2). because he's shy & doesn't want anyone else aside from the mooncule to see her

🎮. what's their favorite thing to do when they're small?

marc is very low-energy while regressed, so he typically likes to lounge on the couch & watch tv, or color / play with miffy in front of the mirror so steven can watch over him better from headspace. he loves cuddling too but he's too shy about asking, so usually layla just scoops him up & snuggles with him at any time ,,, yes marc absolutely adores it

🃏. random headcanon about their regression!

he has a few pacis of his own, but ends up chewing on the sleeve of his shirt or one of steven's sweaters. jake's caught him chewing on his hat once & genuinely couldn't even be mad bc marc is a cutiepie 🥹

🐕 — jake!

💡. how did they discover age regression?

i don't think jake has tons of life experience given how he is: like, he only fronts for quick intervals during high-stress situations to keep the system safe, & is now khonshu's avatar – he has no actual idea what relaxation truly is, & by proxy has no clue what regression is. once he makes himself known to marc and steven, & they find out he's still khonshu's avatar, they're like “uh-uh, nope, yooou need to relax– baby time!! :D” & jake went “... what.”

🧸. what's their favorite toy?

blocks, legos, & any other toy that involves building. he loves building & creating with the legos, but for some reason he finds great amusement in knocking over the blocks – like. great amusement, he laughs and giggles every single time. nobody else can knock over his blocks, tho; they will have an angry jake on their hands if they do. layla gets war flashbacks everytime she almost accidentally knocks it over

🎮. what's their favorite thing to do while they're small?

jake's very active, so he likes being on the go! playing tag, playing pretend, maybe a few old handheld video games steven manages to snag online ... honestly, anything that can keep some part of him moving & occupied

🃏. random headcanon about their regression!

kind of a mix of jake and marc, but those two fight over this brown stuffed longhorn cow all the time because neither of them can figure out who she actually belongs to KSHAKDJSN ,, her name is mocha & she switches homes every day /silly

[pinkseas]

[parasocial bestie] its ok anon's with me (a lie, but we are in this together) now i Want it too give us the agenda

KJDSGHKJHSDGSDHLKIUHG omg hiiiiii bestie hope ur having a good night <333

i am seeing this 30 minutes before i have to go to work Hopefully That Is Enough Time. okay. okay. actually im probably gonna go between copy&pasting and paraphrasing

no bc i accidentally had the thought of "how would scaramouche and diluc even interact" bc. my fave who i am insane abt & asters fave who he is insane abt and i got curious. and suddenly.

slaughtering fatui together. hunting down harbingers one by one together. not even fucking SPEAKING to each other while they're spending time together but instinctively watching each others backs (and their own, of course, but the longer it goes on and the more they get used to it the more they realize that they trust). scaramouche's back aches where the tubes were attached and dilucs hand and arm ache too and they get it they understand. scaramouche would wrap diluc's arm just enough to keep it compressed and diluc would keep a hand warm enough to feel even through the many layers on scaramouche's back and they'd pretend not to see the other flinching at every strike of lightning, relaxing with every boom of thunder.

if anyone who was rude or arrogant or had any kind of power tried to speak over them or turned their attention on them. they would both be So Fucking Disrespectful. expressions like stone and so clearly looking so far down on them, scaramouche sneers and diluc scoffs their eyes roll their arms are crossed neither of them could care less if they tried and they'd be so cold about it, they match each other's energy so well in that regard.

they wear the same frozen expression staring down at a fatui member pleading for their life. share the same silent mercy on the occasion that a child gets wrapped up in everything. feel the same all-consuming fury towards the fatui tamed and tempered only by the fact that it doesnt make either of them feel any less empty, any less cold.

scaramouche recognizes the scars. he's seen countless people lose parts of themselves, if not everything, to delusions. he doesnt say anything. doesnt know what he could say even if he wanted to. whats the point? but he remembers where delusions are being produced, and those facilities are prioritized above all else. diluc doesnt ask any questions. they both pretend not to know.

and they dont consider themselves friends. they're colleagues, maybe. they will not ever Be anything more than colleagues. even as they learn to fight together effortlessly, even as they watch out for one another as well as they do themselves, even as they become a storm that devastates so much of snezhnaya. even as they treat each other's wounds and recognize each other's scars and feel the same fury and the same coldness and the same deep, all-encompassing regret. even as they grieve. they barely talk, they dont banter, they have no inside jokes. every shared touch is one born of violence, whether in the midst of the fight or the aftermath. even as sometimes one of them gets a little Too far into their own head and the other spends god knows how much time ever so slowly coaxing them back to reality. even as they share meals and advice on all sorts of things, from dealing with the snow to how to improve the way they kill. they aren't friends. they will never be friends. but they'll be colleagues and they'll be shattered reflections of each other and they'll be bloodied, broken pieces of defenses that rise to hurt everyone around them but most of all themselves in the process. they'll recognize the light in each other's eyes and the rare softness when mentioning a certain name, will know that both of them would do anything to kill for this person but are torturously, furiously, brokenly trying so fucking hard to teach themselves how to live, instead, because that's what that person would want for them above all else.

they both agree that violence is so much easier than love.

wanderer barely speaks when he's with diluc and they head to sumeru at somepoint just because he has to or wants to check in, maybe because the fatui are trying to stir something up there again, and diluc watches the way he and nahida bicker and banter and how animated and dramatic wanderer can get when he's with someone he really loves. and another time they end up in mondstadt and kaeya visits and diluc has never been soft, never been tender, even when dressing wounds he's fast, he's efficient, neither he nor scaramouche care or flinch when it hurts. but now diluc is gentle, just barely, hidden concern laced in his tone rolling his eyes, scoffing, trying not to smile, asking questions where the true meaning is always are you okay and how are you doing and do you need me here for you. both of them outsiders witnessing the kind of care from the other that they will never know firsthand.

and at the same time, the others dont know, do they? no one can watch the other's back like they can, no one can fight with the other like they can, no one has that deeply ingrained trust and knowing they've both built with each other. the understanding is enough. the quiet is enough. no one else can look at them and see what they see when they're looking at each other. no one else can recognize it. a handful of tiny parts of themselves, reserved solely for the other. it is not love. it is not care. it just is.

they devastate snezhnaya and go their separate ways and a few years later they run into each other again and fresh wounds have turned to scar tissue and they're living for themselves or at least learning how to, trying so hard to, and what the fuck are they supposed to do? supposed to say? every moment they spend knowing each other was born of violence and hatred and revenge and despair, desperation and grief and every ugly thing they've since so carefully untangled and tried to lay to rest. the things that had brought them together don't hurt the way they used to.

someone bumps into diluc. he did just all but freeze in the middle of the street, after all, and scaramouche scowls, weaves his way through people and grabs dilucs wrist to drag him away because god, get out of the fucking way, what, never been to a real city before? and diluc scowls and yanks his hand away but he still follows, he's not used to this many people being around and navigating such crowds, sue him. and scaramouche asks what he's even doing there and diluc explains and then they're falling into step, matching each other's strides instinctively, and then they're meeting up while diluc is in the city and then scaramouche is finding excuses to visit mondstadt and they're bickering and bantering and arguing over the stupidest shit, and its kind.

its kind.

sometimes they look at each other for a little too long and the emptiness begins to ache and the fire begins to burn only to be snuffed out again as the other makes some stupid comment and they fall right back into place. both of them feeling absolutely Horrified with themselves as they realize, separately, that when they think of their friends he of all people comes to mind. what the fuck? when did that happen? but at the same time, itd been... different, going on without the trust they had between them. and now that that trust is back with far more stable foundation, neither of them is entirely willing to let it go.

so different but with this deep and profound understanding of each other in ways that no one else knows of or could understand. mirrors shaped so differently still reflecting one another.

scaramouche knowing diluc as a murderer and a ruthless bastard who'll fight as dirty as he needs to to get shit done, the man who spits blood from his mouth and keeps going the man who's cold and stoic and couldnt care less about his reputation beyond making it as horrific as possible. and Then going to mond after it all and hearing about master diluc. the insane respect with which everyone refers to him with. the Praise everyone seems to have for him. diluc HATES alcohol. scaramouche knows that diluc hates alcohol. why the FUCK is everyone who mentions his name talking about alcohol. first hearing tales of the darknight hero and Squinting.

scaramouche not wearing his usual hat in snezhnaya because its unfortunately his most identifiable feature and he doesnt want anything he does here to get tied back to sumeru or nahida in any way. better to blend in, to appear unassuming, to have eyes roam over him rather than linger. diluc entering sumeru. vendors at stalls, people at the harbor, akademiya students- hat guy this, hat guy that. did you read hat guys new paper? have you seen hat guy around? its been a few weeks, im starting to miss the bastard. i asked hat guy for help with one of my research projects and he was a fucking jackass but he also pointed out books i hadn't realized i could use for information, it was so worth it. why hasnt hat guy been around? did you manage to trick him into trying something sweet again? you know how much he sulked about it last time.

this hat guy is pretty well known, huh. wonder what the deal is with him.

ummmm and then we also made lots of silly little jokes and images and sent lyrics back and forth abt it <3 aster pyre diluculums my Everything im so srs i owe him my life.......... none of this would be possible without him OR without us constantly enabling each other amen <3

[sayingyournames]

Omg where to start. I have already been punched in the heart over and over with just this first chapter of ywlm. I guess here are just some rambling thoughts?

- that hello kitty boombox. Something that was a symbol of the role you could never fulfill, but also gave you the first thing you could really claim: music. And now claiming it as a tether to your Inner Child, to keep what you choose of Little Sirius and spend some time seeing him and telling him "it's going to be ok see we have our boom box our stuffie our proof we were a child once we existed and that childood happened and now I'm the grown up I'm here and I'm going to take care of you"

-I am ill for the Black brothers and always will be. The "I'm proud of you" is truly the most emotionally poignant thing a younger sibling in a family like that can say to their elder sibling who doesn't quite fit the mold. And the gender validation "big brother" I cry and laugh and celebrate so intensely with Sirius there. And how Sirius wants to protect Reggie but Sirius needs his own protection more than Regulus does. That's a brutal reality for an older sibling: because your younger sibling "fits the mold," they will be more ok than you will be if you don't save yourself. You have to give up the one role you did have: big sibling. Protector.

- the shopping scene omg. I was curious what reading this would feel like, since I am not trans but have major body ish leftover from growing up in the 00's and my god. Wonky sizing, feeling overwhelmed, being able to pick your own clothes instead of your mother doing it and not knowing where to start. I was FEELING Sirius there. It was giving the fitting room in the junior's section of Macy's. And I loved seeing him be brave and pick that skirt because he LIKED it and he could PICTURE himself in it, and start to dream about presenting the way HE wants rather than having to miserably exist in these extreme binaries to try to make things easier for everyone else except himself.

- ok last but not least the queer gaze from James and Remus. I don't know if your James is going to be queer but to me, juxtaposing those two moments side by side is Sirius's introduction to the other side of the mirror, the queer spaces where he will be fully seen and loved for the first time. The fact that just the way they *looked* at Sirius was clocked as Different from how anyone had ever looked at Sirius before, like "he wasn't a problem to solve" (and I'm going to come back to that line), to me that puts all three of them on the queer playing field so to speak. I am wicked pumped for the found family vibes.

-and ok REMUS. Having a boy look at you like that and making you feel like LIKE YOU AREN'T A PROBLEM TO SOLVE is a big fucking deal for an AFAB or femme teen in 2005. I've written about this. A lot. Living under the male gaze is so all-encompassing, it's like the very air you breathe from the moment you're born. And it's not until you're a teen that you realize the implications of it, but in 2005, you have no idea where the exit is. You're just stuck in this maze trying to use whatever tools you have to find some reprieve from having your body always being the first and most important thing that is noticed about you-- like maybe being a "tomboy," or in my case, leaning into purity culture and patriarchal hyper-femininity. I LOVE that Remus is going to be part of that "exit sign" for Sirius- like turn here onto Lupin Avenue for unconditional acceptance and whatever the opposite of objectification is.

Um ok hope this wasn't too much but I've said before I learn so much from your writing so I wanted to share what Things you are making me Think. Can't wait to read more!!!!

okay putting this under a cut bc my response is sooooo long <3

hi hello i’m sorry it’s taken me so long to reply to this - i just haven’t had the time to really sit down and give it the kind of attention it deserves!

the BOOMBOX. one of the first things i pictured when i started writing this was sirius’s boombox. bc Little Sirius needed something to cling onto that he could make his, and that could carry over into their new life. its basically a character in itself lmao i an very attached to The Boombox

sibling dynamics are so important to me. i am the youngest, though, and so when i write about regulus and sirius it’s a flipped situation from mine - i was younger and did not fit in and my sibling was older and Normal. but yes, regulus is very aware that he needs to be a support system for sirius, and all he really needs FROM sirius is for them to be around. they’ll get there. 

a lot of fics (that i love and re-read all the time) explore sirius acting out and like, getting tattoed and stuff once they’re allowed to make their own decisions. in ywlm, sirius is acting against what his parents want, but in the way he can just - let his body exist however he wants to and it does not answer to anyone but them. there are a few other scenes coming up where we get to hang out with sirius while they do a 2000s shopping montage and i love thm.

my james IS queer, yes. everyone is queer to me at this point tbh! a similar thing happens in chapter 2 where like - quuer people just SEE each other, in a way that’s hard to explain to anyone who isn’t. sirius deserves a bizarre little family of misfits and he will get one. i

REMUS oh i LOVE him. he’s so soft in this. also like, it’s weird bc sirius isn’t as aware of that gaze bc he grew up with parents who didn’t really let them out of the house. like they know that it’s bc their parents see him as a girl and treat them differently but he won’t really connect the dots for a minute. so like, for them it’s more of a gender thing. very similar to how it was for me. i’ll go into this a lil more in depth later on, but. anyway REMUS i love the idea of him just being Some Guy and like he’s objectively handsome but sirius doesn’t fall for him bc of that, he falls for remus bc he gets them, exactly as they are. they’re so good for each other i’m :’)

anyway no it’s never too much, thank you so so much for reading my silly little fic. i LOVE talking about it, and i will continue to do so with any and everyone who will let me lol xx 

[taetaespeaches]

Hi! I remember reading one of your asks a while ago where you were talking about how you partially created the gf characters in your fics based on what you thought each of the members would need from a relationship, and I was wondering if you could explain like what you see those traits/skills/emotions being for each of them and if they’ve changed at all since you started writing? Sorry if you’ve already answered this before but i love your writing & thought it would be interesting to hear more!

Oh I love this question! Thanks for asking lovely <3 I'll put my answer below the cut because it gets a little long lol

Jin/Poopsie: I think Jin doesn’t NEED a nurturing partner as much as he DESERVES one. And Poopsie is that. She’s like the mom of the group, she’s always considering everyone else first, and especially Jin. She also encourages him to check in with his emotions more often. I even think with her insecurities that have caused strains on the relationship before can be good for Jin. Like she challenges him to be more understanding and considerate when dealing with other people’s feelings. Also she laughs at literally all of his jokes, like in a very genuine way. And I do think that’s very important lol 

Yoongi/Kid: She lets him be soft. She keeps him on his toes by teasing him and bringing a little chaos into his life. I’m a big believer that chaos and peace can and should coexist and I think they’re perfectly fit to bring that to each other. Also, we know how important music is to Yoongi and Kid is genuinely his biggest fan. Like she believes in him and his musicality, and loves and supports his music more than anyone. And I think he needs and deserves that in a relationship

Hoseok/Petal: Petal brings such a sense of calm and belonging to Hobi. No matter how he comes to her, she accepts him with open arms. He doesn’t have to be anyone in particular or keep up a persona, he can just exist and she will always dote on him and provide him with so much love and security. Plus like this man does not realize how incredible and cool he is and she is constantly there to remind him of just how special and amazing he is. I think these two represent lovers who over time turn into friends. Like that eventually becomes the highlight of their relationship, they’re just each other’s best friend 

Namjoon/Daisy: I think one of the best things about these two is their shared intellectualism, and I think that would be really important to Joon. I think he needs someone who he can share ideas with, talk about art, books, etc, have fucking philosophical discussions with. And she is that. And she also brings her own perspectives which I think he would really love. Also, she’s just fun to have around. Like he truly enjoys his time with her, no matter what they’re doing. Also, she gives him space and I think that’s really important. These two are totally ok spending days apart and coming together in the evening to talk, like there’s just not a lot of pressure 

Jimin/Dear: She’s literally so fun and vibrant and she kind of matches him in that way. Plus she’s so soft. At first it took her a while to really tap into that innate softness bc of her own personal experiences, and that did cause strains- I mean, at first they weren’t really what each other needed. They had to grow with each other to get to that point. But after they patch things up she becomes this really open and comforting person for him. I think Dear is what Jimin needs in that she fully believes in him, she gives him grace, and she just adores the dude- everything about him 

Tae/Peaches: Best friends turned lovers- the ultimate relationship. I think Peaches is what Tae needs bc she’s literally his best friend, she had his best interests at heart since they were eighteen. She’s exciting, she keeps him forever intrigued, and she’s so fucking devoted. She boosts his confidence too which I think he would appreciate a lot. And she’s always curious about him which I think he would love bc who doesn’t want to be found fascinating by their partner? She just adores him and there’s such a strong foundation of friendship that they’re kind of unstoppable together. She also is always there for him when he needs some extra care, or needs to know that it’s ok to not be ok, like she just always has his back 

Jungkook/Holly: She is obsessed with him with I do think Jungkook needs lol. I think he would LOVE to have a partner who is just so crazy in love with him. Also, she teases the hell out of him, their relationship is very playful and I think he would need that and love that. She’s also his safety zone, like he can cuddle on the couch with her and fall into this safety net where he can let out every little worry. And I’m not sure JK does that easily. Plus they’re both artsy and creative and I think that would make them really vibe and I think he’d like sharing this intimate space with someone like that 

[hajimine]

THIS IS GOODBYE !! >:)

long story short, i wanna focus on my uni work + my real life more but tumblr is way too addicting so i’m gonna have to kick it out of my life entirely <3

but for all you nosy people out there (yes you reading this rn i know you wanna snoop around mhm) here’s a way-too-long explanation as to why i’m gonna go ghost ! woo !

on this post i’ll also be answering some of the asks i frequently get so please read through them before asking again ! having to repeat myself again and again gets really tiring v.v

KEEPING IN CONTACT

discord: send an ask off anon/dm me !

new blog: anyone without bad intentions are welcome, moots or not ! just send an ask off anon <3

THE BASICS

why are you leaving? i’ve sort of explained it before the cut but yeah, tumblr is a lot of fun and i do still enjoy writing, but i feel like i waste way too much time on here and get nothing valuable in return, so i’d rather focus my time and energy on something much more important to me like my studies.

but.. you can just cut down on your posting, why leave entirely? nah im an all or nothing type of gal so that won’t work for me. i’ll go back down the obsessive rabbithole and repeat the cycle, so i’d rather do a full detox yk?

wtf why all of a sudden? i know i know sorry lol :,) i just realized that i need to get my shit together and set my priorities straight and this is the best way to do it.

why are you making such a big deal out of this? shhhhhhhut up. some people asked me about it and they’re curious, so if you aren’t, then gtfo ^^ also i don’t want to leave without an explanation bc i’ve been on the receiving end before and i know that it’s not a pleasant feeling to find out that someone you liked/followed disappeared without warning.

THE BLOG

will you deactivate? no probably not. i love this blog it has lots of good memories :>

will you delete your works? as of now, nope. but there’s a pretty big possibility that i’ll say fuck it and delete everything so enjoy them while they last hehe

do you have a new blog? yep! it’s a personal blog though, and i might or might not write again on the new blog—so don’t get your hopes up. if you do want to keep chatting with me, i’m more than happy to hang out with you there! (i won’t be as active there as i was here though)

are you gonna continue writing? in the long run: most probably yeah. i love writing so i’ll probably find my way back here (or on ao3!) but right now, i need to learn what kind of things i want to prioritize my energy on, and writing fanfiction is just… not it lol

blog giveaway? no go away

。。。

braindump:

personally, i’ve had my fair share of discourses and i have come across some nasty people in the various fandoms i’m in, but i don’t think it’s fair to hate an entire group of people just because some people are absolute shitheads. so no, i’m not leaving bc i hate the hq fandom or the jjk fandom or whatever the fuck, i enjoyed my time here bc i never took tumblr seriously—all my love goes to the fandoms tho i hope u guys won’t go up in flames w the amount of dumb discourses i see on dash v.v also no, i’m not leaving bc of hate or anything like that please don’t worry!

i’ve only been here since october 2020 (and started this blog in dec) but it’s been a lot of fun !! so thank you so much to everyone who has interacted with me and my content, all my moots, my lovely anons and followers, i wouldn’t have stayed here if it weren’t for u guys xoxo. also, i’ve met some of my genuine close friends on here, and i have this dumb site to thank for that :>

and to those mfs who have sent me anon hate, talked shit behind my back, plagiarized me, stolen my ideas, stirred up discourse just for the funzies, etc, u guys are disgusting and i’m glad im not gonna see u again. i hope u get well soon. or not. idc <3

if you’ve read this far and you still wanna snoop around well uh, feel free to ask me anything and i’ll try my best to answer >:)

。。。

@ anons i hope u don’t mind that i’m answering your questions this way whoops

[rotshop]

get prankt this isn't an angst fic lol ,,

ANYWAY ,, i realized earlier that i could've just been calling 'auditor reader' employer reader this whole time and then i had a funny silly goofy little idea and now we r here,,,lol,,, ill proof read this later but i did this in one go no breaks so . help.

I might continue this later so!! consider this a sort of 'introduction' if u will,,

note ; auditor uses he / she / they pronouns in this bc ive decided im just going to push my propaganda onto all of you <333 also Hank uses he / they / xe

tw ; dissociation, dereality, some light body horror

Bloody Management

"This is out of your jurisdiction. You've wasted enough time here," you seethed dryly, staring down at the shorter being. "You've made no progress and have only proved your operation to be a strain on our relations and resources."

"Out of MY jurisdiction? YOU'VE never even been there before! You think you can just storm in and suddenly kick me out of my own work?" Auditor shot back, hands slamming down on the mahogany desk in front of her.

"Yes, actually, I do," you snapped, eyes narrowing. "I think you're forgetting just who you're speaking to. You've let this drag on for far too long and your ego has grown in tandem with its pointlessness."

Sighing, you leaned back in your chair, pinching the bridge of your nose as you continued. "Look, I understand. You put effort and thought into this little pet project of yours, but the results have all proven zilch. You fucked up, that's fine, but you can't keep meddling with this reality in hopes something will suddenly work again! All you're doing is tearing and poking holes the rest of us will have to deal with later."

"If you just gave me a little more time I could-"

"We've been giving you time. We've given you more time than we've ever given any project like yours," you gave a desperate look, "It's over. You tried and we tried, there's nothing that can be done. If you just worked with us then we could help you."

There was a long silence as they faltered, hands falling into their lap as their gaze followed, landing on the floor.

"And what happens to my Nevada?"

"We'll try and clean it up again. Return it to..some sort of normalcy," you hummed, "Though, with some of those tears in the fabric it'll take a bit longer than anticipated. That..clown, is proving to be rather difficult."

You paused, grin finding it's way onto your face.

"It's been tricky, if you will."

"Not the time."

You gave a 'tsk' in response, shrugging lightly, "I don't regret it."

"You'll be going back to our depths, effective immediately. While this project was a failure, we're still curious to see if there's anything else that can be done in a different time and place."

"And what about you? Are you going to sit all pretty in this fake office for the rest of eternity?" She questioned sarcastically, eyes dragging up to meet yours.

"God, I wish. I mean, seriously, you have no idea how nice it is to have some peace and quiet after dealing with that fuckin' office."

With a dry snicker and -presumably- an eye roll, they finally stood accepting their defeat.

"I presume I'll be seeing you?"

"If your little posse doesn't cause me too much trouble, yes."

"Have fun with that, I do hope it's as grueling as possible," he hummed, turning and striding towards the door to nothing.

"Thanks, was nice seeing you too."

The door peering to the void shuts soundlessly.

.

.

.

"Was the pun really that bad?.."

---

"What do you mean they're just neutral suddenly? It's not like they all just suddenly unionized or sum' shit! There's gotta be something going on," Deimos groaned, irritation dragging onto him and clinging desperately.

"Well- What do you want me to say! I'm just as confused as you are," Sanford huffed back over comms, making a vague gesture with no audience.

Hank stood in the other room, staring down at the few agents that were on their knees with their hands held tight behind their heads. They'd made no attempt to attack Sanford and xem, simply staring in a bit of surprise when the two'd busted in. It'd completely thrown the raid off, leaving them both in a state of stunned confusion. The agent that they'd asked about the sudden change in demeanor just gave some shaky shrug, stammering out that they'd all received an order to not attack under any circumstances from some unknown contact. 'They really just listen to anyone then?..'

It was hard to believe, hard to find any reason or meaning in that lead to any conclusive endings. Which, had lead to a small dispute going nowhere and fast. Hank only picked up on little parts of it, the words being muffled and distorted through the wall. Xe didn't really have much interest in getting a clearer reading of it though, it didn't sound like it meant much.

"Look, I'm just going to try and look for any documents or actual recordings of this apparent 'ghost order,' alright?..." A pause. "Deimos? Are you there? Shit- Of course the line dies now of all times."

The line wasn't dead. It was somewhere else, some-when else.

---

The ground felt cold.

.

.

No, was it warm?

Wait- No no no, it wasn't warm..

.

.

.

Was it even the ground?

.

.

Did it even matter?

.

Deimos could fuzzily recall it. Arguing with Sanford over the line. The points he made exactly didn't seem to ring through the fog of confusion and numb in his mind. Something about the Auditor, the agents, blah bla..something.

He'd been making to say something else when he'd seen it, something off in the corner of his eye. It wasn't anything huge, if you asked him he wouldn't even be able to tell you what it was. There was something wrong, but there wasn't. The ground was cold, but it was warm.

Something was wrong.

Everything is fine.

He'd turned around, looking around for whatever in his vision wasn't right.

That's rude to say, you know.

He'd never found it, something reaching from the depths to grab him.

You're making me sound awfully cruel.

With a groan, he picked himself up off the ground to observe his surroundings. White and black stretched infinitely around him, the 'ground' underneath him was the deepest of not-color while the 'sky' was its blinding twin. A building stood in front of him, a mix of ivory and ink twisted to form its structure. The door faced him, standing tall and straight as a soldier in spite of how tilted and off the world felt.

Before he could even really register it, something was pulling him up off the floor. There were no hands or strings physically attached, nothing sticking from him to drag into the infinite beyond his comprehension, no no. It was something quiet, a ghost or a whisper in his mind that pulled him through the ocean and to shore. The door grew larger- closer. His mind grew blanker. His hand twisted the knob.

Color flooded into his vision finally, the room in front of him coated in it graciously. The floors were a velvet carpeting, a wine red that felt of lavish and glitzy. The walls were lined in bookshelves, each filled to the brim with titles somewhere between poetry and latin white noise where imagination fell. At the head of the room stood a desk, polished mahogany standing tall and still, frozen indefinitely in time. Behind it, you.

Me.

Once again, he was pulled forward. Each step fell in front of the other, unsure of weight behind them and noise that followed suite. He felt half there. Half of a man and half of a void. It was..something.

Not pleasant, not bad.

The ground wasn't cold, wasn't warm.

It just was.

He finds himself meeting your gaze as he plops down into one of the seats in front of you. He finds his neck straining and bowing under phantom limbs that aren't there. He finds his eyes training on yours which stare back pointedly, finds himself between hot and cold. He finds himself sitting down before you as he watches from the window.

There's no window in the room.

"You must be so confused."

Your voice is in front of him, right? That's where you are, so your voice should be coming from there. It isn't though. It's around him somewhere. Even as you tilt your head to the side the noise of your own voice doesn't seem to follow it.

"Don't think too much on this all, alright?"

You mutter something. 'These grunts really weren't made for this- to be here. I'm surprised he even woke up.'

Someone nods in agreement.

"Wh..who are you?"

Is that his voice? It is. It has to be, it fell from his own mouth. He barely even felt it move. Is it his mouth? It has to be.

You pause for a moment, seemingly caught off guard. He doesn't know if its because he spoke or because of what he asked. Nobody clarifies.

"Why don't you call me [name]? That'll be easiest for you. I do apologize for dragging you here rather than appearing there," you hum, leaning forward on your desk. "I just wanted to make sure we had the utmost privacy."

I wanted to make sure you wouldn't be able to forget.

"Now, Deimos," is that his name? "I need to tell you something, I have to work on restoring things for you, so I can't deliver this message to everyone myself in the most..effective of ways. You won't mind filling your friends in for me, right?"

He doesn't answer. He can't. His tongue is lead and his mouth is stuck shut, if he opens it will surely be left that way for the rest of infinity- for the rest of this place, this time. Someone says yes in his voice.

"Good. Now, try to listen carefully..."

---

He wakes up on sand. He's sitting up quickly, stilted as his mind finds his body. His tongue is lighter, teeth separated once more as his jaws are their own entities again. The cliff is still under him, wind passing by him peacefully. The horizon stretches infinite.

The ground is warm, there's no mistaking it.

"Deimos? Are you there?"

He pauses briefly.

"I need to tell you guys something."

[chaoticneurodivergent]

Apologize in advance for this hot mess of a post and I'm probably going to delete it.

Did anyone else who is neurodivergent in any way (especially those who grew up undiagnosed) experience a kind of unique form of scapegoating where you were guilted, shamed, and blamed for things you had no control over for entire childhood by basically all of the adults in your life? Ranging from the classic "You're not living up to your full potential," "You're lazy," etc. comments that I know are common to essentially being treated as the villain child and compared to siblings and treated differently, and the reasons why were all linked to your neurodivergence?

(I explain my personal experience w/ this in the v long paragraph below, feel free to skip it if you don't want to read basically me venting, there's a tl;dr at end)

I know for a fact I was treated differently from my older sister my entire life. She was punished maybe once a month. I was constantly in trouble, and looking back, the things I was punished for were often linked to neurodivergence rather than stubbornness or disobedience. For example, I was in trouble for not falling asleep fast enough, for not being able to stay still in bed or be quiet for the long periods of time it would take me to fall asleep, for having trouble with chores (not noticing things, being slow, getting distracted, being inefficient), for getting distracted during schoolwork or for using improper tone of voice (constantly being told I was "rude" or "disrespectful" and getting told off for talking back when I explained that I truly didn't understand what that meant or how to fix it), for simply not being able to force myself to eat certain foods and being picky, for what I realize now was obvious stimming. After years and years of this, it became my identity in the family. I wasn't behaving badly, I WAS bad. I was called lazy, selfish, careless, trying to hurt everyone, stupid, manipulative, rebellious, disrespectful, disobedient, and too sensitive. But none of that came out of nowhere. I was inconvenient because of my neurodivergence, and since that was never diagnosed, my parents had no way of knowing. I had no excuse or explanation. So the neurodivergence and the bad experiences are so tied together that I can't fully separate them and blame either. Then on top of this, when I try to bring up my concerns, I'm just told "You're fine, you've never been abnormal, don't worry about it." It's hard for me to believe everything's normal and fine when they were the ones telling me I was all of these bad, abnormal things, that I was so different from other children. If I was truly fine and normal, either I truly am all of the things I was called growing up or my parents were just cruel without excuse. And I feel so much guilt, bc so many ppl who experienced scapegoating or verbal abuse were truly good kids. They did nothing wrong. I was bad. And no matter how much I was punished I couldn't be normal or good. But I didn't mean to be. I wanted so badly to be good and I just couldn't do anything right, I just couldn't be like my sister or my classmates. I couldn't do my homework, couldn't do the chores properly, couldn't fall asleep or keep track of anything in my mind or stop getting lost and confused with easy things and needing help. I truly don't blame my parents. I was not an easy child. But I didn't mean to be bad. So it seems like there's a unique experience of the intersection between neurodivergence and parents who maybe aren't the best at parenting. And that isn't mimicked really by anything else.

Tl;dr I don't know if anyone else experienced this or it's just a my family thing and I'm curious, but I'm thinking there might be a specific experience of being neurodivergent and being scapegoated / emotionally abused due to traits you have little to no control over due to parents or just adults in society who don't know how to deal with your neurodivergence and instead blame it all on you and expect you to figure out how to be normal or pay the price.

[7fckingidiots]

Would you be alright with writing some HCs about the brothers and a MC who's a trans guy? Sorry if it's a tall order or too vague, they're a big comfort for me and I'd like to see what ideas you have bcs your headcanons are fantastic ;w;

HELL YEAH DUDE!!!! IM ALSO TRANS!!! AH!!!!! demigirl rights :3 but i also find a huge comfort in the boys and i hc all of them as trans because no one can Stop Me •• but i really hope you enjoy these and remember you’re valid and i care u so much! Also i hope you don’t mind but i kinda made it gender neutral so every trans folk could enjoy!

The Brothers With A Trans MC

Lucifer

He didn’t know until you came out to him honestly. He knew all his other siblings were trans but with all the work Diavolo gave him and adding new students from different realms on top of that he hadn’t really had time to notice any minor changes in you.

He feels guilty about this and immediately makes sure(like everyone else)to ask for your pronouns, name, and how you would like to present yourself from now on.

Fixes your ID cards and your papers with Diavolo right after dinner

God. He’s such a dad and he gets you things that have your new name on them. You wake up to see you have a new pencil case with your name embroidered on it with matching pencils. God.....he’s so weird i love him so much

Asmo does most of your clothing shopping but for formal wear he takes you shopping! He’s not about to buy you some cheap tux or gown ok it’s gonna be over 2000 grim and he’s gonna get you three of them STOP HIM

He’s not the best with verbal affection so he writes down notes that are like “you looked very handsome/pretty today.” or when he first starts writing them they’re like “you’re a boy/girl/kid. i’m proud of you.” Thank u mr morningstar

You want surgery or to start hormones??? He will stop all his work with Diavolo and spend forever looking up things for you, he wants you to be as safe as possible(pls he almost fainted after he realized you’d have to give yourself a shot like everyday dhdhdhjdhd hc that demons/angels don’t have to do hormone therapy i’m so JEALOUS)

Practices saying your pronouns in his study when you first come out. He just wants to make sure you feel as safe as possible in his care(and he remembers how terrible it felt to be misgendered)

Guess what....he loves you no matter what :)

Mammon

You’re blind as hell if you couldn’t see his top scars but I respect it

King DOES slip up on your pronoun change but always immediately corrects himself. Satan has a spray bottle that he sprays Mammon with when he does it. Mammon is NOT amused but the same can’t be said for Belphie.

Gender affirming activities??? Oh yeah like robbing a bank?? That’s pretty gender neutral and trans right?? Yeah!!! Wow such a good supportive brother.

If you want you can wear the formal wear Lucifer bought you to the said bank heist. Boom trans rights

You can practice painting his nails or doing his makeup if you’re too nervous to do it on yourself first!! Dw if it’s bad he also can’t do makeup or paint nails so once you let him return the favor you’re both laughing and Asmo is distraught.

KING at dying hair he will get you whatever you need and if you want an entire different hair cut entirely he’s ON it

Very used to being Loud and Brash but if you need someone to talk to about anything really he always calms down and sits down to listen to whatever you have to say.

Lots of gendered gifts from him. This said for men??? Oh ok adds to cart. Oh pink??? For ladies??? yeah that can go in there too

You’re never gonna believe this.....But he loves you and supports you :)

Levi

He was the first one to come out to you at the house!! He was just so excited! Same hat!!!

Gets literally any video game where you can design the protag/have custom pronouns and will play games like that with you for hours

Would you like a pride flag.....for u.....He has too many.....Please take the trans flag please he has no room....he bought in bulk for a pride event and didn’t consider the consequences of his actions

Miku binder but irl. He will get if for you but unironically.....thanks King. He just likes binders with patterns and i respect IT

Dysphoria?? He gives you his hoodie bc that was his trademark dysphoria hoodie and i GUESS for you he can share............he would give u anything just ask nicely he’s sensitive

Reads any character that matches up with your gender and is like!!!!! That’s you!!!! OMG!!!! You in da IRL

Goes back and edits his tweets if they use your old name or pronouns(also has he/they in his bio. this is for nothing just makes me :D)

If you haven’t chosen your name he’s gonna suggest so many fictional characters. POV levi kin assigns you.

You listen to music together that just has Trans Vibes.....maybe u cry together but there’s no judgment!! It’s just nice :)

God it’s wild but! He loves u and thinks ur great :)

Satan

Enby Satan. That’s all :)

He’s very quite about it, he supports you! He’s just not loud like his brothers

He brings you book about gender studies and LGBTQ history that he thinks would interest you(there some of his favorite books and they’ve made him feel the most comfortable in his gender)

Gives you a name list if you haven’t named yourself yet! He cares about you and wants to make sure you have the right name that suits you

He’s the one that tells you that it’s ok if you’re still figuring it all out, learning about yourself is a very tricky process and if anyone knows that it’s Satan

Any of the brothers would kill anyone who misgendered you but with Satan that shit is ON SIGHT

Asks you how you know and what were the signs that gave it away to you, but only if you’re comfortable telling him!! He just finds everyone’s experience interesting and would like to know yours as well.

Spells for fucking DAYS Satan personally kills body dysphoria the best he can(mainly bc he’s HIGHKEY afraid of you getting surgery he hates knives so much)

Makes your comfort food for you when you’re feeling down about yourself and will read whatever you want to hear outloud to you.

!!!!!! GET THIS !!!!!! He loves YOU :0

Asmo

Fucking excited!!!! This means you two are going to buy so much clothing together and he gets to style you let’s GO

Buys you whatever you want but he will make you try it all on so be CAREFUL what u wish for.....ur gonna be there till the store closes yeah......

Paints your nails with the trans pride flag!! Also does your makeup and gives you tips on how to look more masculine or fem!!

VOICE LESSONS

He will help you lower or raise the pitch of your voice if it KILLS him. It eventually becomes like a mini class after school

Helps with internalized transphobia! Hes dealt with his fair share and knows how awful it can be and he will NOT being having you experience that as well we r practicing Self Care now

Picks apart any one who misgenders you until they’re crying he has NO fucking time for that behavior in this HOUSE

Sometimes self care is eating whatever you want and sitting in the dysphoria hoodies while watching chick flicks with Asmo

He likes dressing you up but he’s always sure to set boundaries so he never puts you into something that makes you feel uncomfortable

ALSO edits his posts and takes down anything that makes you uncomfortable!!

He loves you so much!!!!

Beel

another one to hand you The Dysphoria Hoodie and it’s very large and comfy!

he’ll help you make out a work out routine that will help you get the body you want and it makes him really happy to work out with you :)

he’s gonna hold your hand if you have to take shots and will give you puppy eyes if you don’t let him. He’s just worried!!!! He wants to help

stands behind you whenever you’re nervous about coming out to someone, he will NOT have someone making you feel bad or misgendering you

he’ll see food with trans pride colors and gives it too you, probably doesn’t even know what it is half the time but it made him think of you so he makes sure to get it for you

he doesn’t trip up on any of your new pronouns or name and makes it seem like he never even knew them. dead name???? what’s that??? a type of sauce?????

will let you vent to him whenever needed and will always make you a sundae after you’ve finished. it’s comically huge but it’s tasty and does make you feel a lot better, thanks beel

makes sure you remember to take off your binder if you’ve been wearing it for more than eight hours! and if you’ve been wearing heels to feel more fem he reminds you to take those off too and has a pair of slippers for you in his room that you can wear instead

hey! get this! He loves you so, so much :D

Belphie

you’re trans? ok kid join the club. he doesn’t make a big deal at all

are you still gonna cuddle with him and join him in his quest to make lucifer’s life difficult? yeah? ok then cool what’s ur name 

if he hears someone misgender you he waits till you’ve left the room and just kills whoever did it, dude’s unhinged what did you expect from him honestly

he’s actually really curious about any hormone therapy you’re on and likes listening to you rant about it to him. he likes seeing your face light up and it partly reminds him of lilith

calls your hormones something stupid like “oh dude, your gamer girl juice arrived.” or “hey your little man potion is here.” ...thanks belphie

will NOT let you sleep in a binder or push up bra!!! not healthy!! let ur chest breath guys 

like mammon, he gets you gendered gifts but they’re so fucking weird? you didn’t need a girls version of a collectable hot wheels set???? he got you blue lightning mcqueen sheets?????? those EXIST here????!!!!! when does he even shop......

introduces you to new people like “this is our resident boy/girl/human. they don’t do much but i think they’re cool.”

he really does care about you but he remembers when he came out he just didnt want people to make a big deal about it so he’s just doing what would have made him feel the most comfortable, but you can still see how much love he has for you when you look into his eyes

he loves you, so, so much :)

[impalementation]

if you're interested, i'd love to hear your thoughts on That scene in empty places, bc the way that i've seen most people talk about it doesn't always feel very nuanced and like... i get being frustrated and i for sure think some extremely unfair things to/about buffy were said, but i don't think it's as cut and dry as buffy being totally blameless (even though i love her) and everyone else (particularly the main scoobies, who don't have her responsibilities but have fought alongside her and earned the right to disagree w her imo) being terrible. Like it may have gone too far?? But idk, I have trouble articulating why, but I think there's more nuance to the situation than people want to say, so I'm curious about your thoughts

Anonymous asked:

whats your take on empty places and the scoobs kicking buffy out of her house?

Anonymous asked:

Why did Buffy allowed Dawn to kick her out in Empty Places?

Wow, so many questions about “Empty Places”! Sorry, as ever, that these took me a while to get to.

I actually agree, I think there’s more nuance there than it’s given credit for. I talked about that a bit in this post a while back. I wouldn’t say that the character build-up to that scene is as well-executed as it could have been, but it hardly comes out of nowhere, and it’s not some random thing. Or, as I’ve seen people suggest, simply there to make Spike look good and push him and Buffy together. I’m sure their romantic arc was a factor in the storytelling, but to call that the only motivation seems to me a vast oversimplification and dismissal of ideas that were built over the course of the season.

Season seven is, as I’ve discussed before, about how the Slayer system is broken. It’s a system that isolates Buffy and puts all of the decision-making in her hands. Meaning that it’s a system that is neither good for her, nor good for anyone around her, no matter how strong and brave Buffy is. All season long, we see Buffy struggle with both the limits of her power, and the demands of her authority. She wants to be able to save every girl, and fight every ubervamp, but she simply can’t be everywhere and stronger than everything. She wants to be a caring friend, but when she’s the one who has to make decisions about whether people should live or die, she can’t always be. When she’s the one who has to make all the hard choices, that means the blame always falls on her shoulders. When she fucks up, there’s nothing for her to fall back on. The fact that Buffy is forced to be this kind of sole authority means that the people around her are right to feel that they aren’t being listened to, or fully considered. Because often they aren’t. They see the people around them getting maimed and killed and suddenly realize that maybe it isn’t right that all their eggs should be in Buffy’s basket. But at the same time, they’re wrong, because they’re the ones who put their eggs there. They’re the ones who kept looking the other way as Buffy made hard choice after hard choice on their behalf. They’re as complicit in (and victimized by) the broken system as Buffy is.

Keep in mind the season’s perception themes. Everyone gets mad at Buffy, and Buffy gets mad at herself, because they’re all too close to the situation to see that the problem isn’t really Buffy, it’s what being the Slayer has forced Buffy to be. The dynamic it’s forced between her and the people around her. Notice how in the very next episode, Faith finds herself dealing with the exact same problems that Buffy was. The same hard decisions, and the same ambient resentments. It’s actually very important that Faith has to be a leader for a bit, in order to show this--the fact that the problem is being the Slayer, not Buffy. I’d even argue that it’s the much more thematically relevant motivation for the scene than getting Buffy and Spike alone.

As far as thematic motivations go, I also think it’s crucial that Buffy is thrown out of her house. That is some powerful symbolism for a season that leans so hard into the symbolism of Buffy’s house in general, and it’s disappointing to see people ignore it in their eagerness to be mad at everyone. The house is a lot of things—the familiar, the stable, the normative, the safe—but most importantly it’s also Buffy’s self. Notice how Spike and Faith, both Buffy’s shadow at different times, hang out in Buffy’s basement: the realm of the id and subconscious. Notice how as the house breaks down, Buffy gets injured as well.

So for Buffy to be thrown out of her house, it’s the climax of the season’s isolation themes not just in terms of story, but also metaphor. She has literally been cast out of herself. She’s been banished from her identity and role. But at the same time, once she’s on the outside of that myopic, claustrophobic system, she is able to connect with her shadow (Spike) and see the situation with new eyes. The reason that Spike is the one who can talk Buffy back is that firstly, unlike the Scoobies, his later seasons arc is all about learning to not ask Buffy for things that aren’t appropriate--romantic reciprocation, moral structure. Secondly, he was once the tool and symbol of her isolation, the icon of her shame and guilt and belief that she needed to isolate herself. For her to make peace with Spike is about her rejecting that isolation and shame, and transforming it.

Of course, I can talk about symbolism all I want and it doesn’t necessarily matter if the writers didn’t make it believable on the object level too—the level of character and plot and all of that. It’s a regular problem on Buffy, the writing caring more about symbolism than sense. While I think that most of the characters have adequate motivation for the scene—really, it’s been building from the beginning; remember the confrontation between Buffy and Xander as early as “Selfless”? or Buffy fighting with Giles and Wood two episodes earlier? or the way she argued with everyone in “Get It Done”? or the Potentials doubting her from basically their first episodes?—the one character that seems truly undeveloped is Dawn. She got that warning from the First in “Conversations With Dead People”, but the season doesn’t follow up on it well enough to draw a clear line between that seed of doubt and her attitude in “Empty Places.” Given that Dawn is Buffy’s “humanity” or “youth” or what have you, it’s symbolically significant that she would be the final one to cast Buffy out. But that seems like a clear case of the story not earning its metaphor, unfortunately.

To answer the third ask: as far as why Buffy let Dawn kick her out, on a character level I think she was pretty defeated by that point. But symbolically, I think the part about Buffy’s human self rejecting her is important for that. Buffy has a tenuous relationship to her belief in her humanity at the best of times, so it’s pretty easy for me to believe that she would feel lost and numbed enough by being rejected by that part of herself, that she wouldn’t fight it.

(Controversial opinion, but I actually kind of like that “Empty Places” isn’t due to the First sowing obvious discord. I’ve seen lots of people suggest that that would have been the stronger and more believable choice, and I get the instinct. But if the point of the season is to show that the villain is the Slayer system, then it makes more sense for that to be the thing that drives the conflict, and not an external force influencing them. There might have been a way to use the First that was compatible with that, but it wouldn’t have worked if the problem was just The First. Imo, of course.)

All of which is to say, that if you see the season as being about faulty perception, broken systems, and the dangers of isolation, then “Empty Places” actually makes perfect sense as a climax of the season. The problem really comes down to whether you think it was earned enough (which in some cases I think it was, and in others it wasn’t), or generally handled well, and whether you think those ideas are interesting in the first place.

[personasintro]

Hello, I’m not trying to defend rude people coming to you asking you to hurry the story lol but I’m going to tell you something that might help as advice as a writer, maybe? Just please don’t take it the wrong way bc I’m not trying to tell you how to do your thing!

I think what frustrates readers the most is that the story escalated SO QUICKLY from the beginning, like since the “deal” to all the fluff, the “””””fake””””” dating, the sex, the (very obvious) romantic moments that were completely brushed off, not to mention all the confusing things Jungkook says to Y/N and viceversa, etc. AND THEN.. the whole story goes back to (in a sense) zero: Jungkook is back with Kiko, the person that hurted him so deeply on him, Y/N and Jungkook are still friends even after they spended all those weeks being basically like boyfriend and girlfriend and that there’s clearly something there that ALL of us can see (unless you didn’t want us to believe that and we’re all not reading the same story).

And I’m not saying that it’s bad or that you’re doing things the wrong way but IT IS very confusing to us bc its starting to feel like there’s no real character development and everything’s going backwards instead of forward.

Again, I’m not saying this is how you should do this but, as a reader myself, the lack of development, in terms of character and not as a “this is how I want the story to end” type of thing, it’s very frustrating and dryning for some people.

What I’m trying to say is that maybe the people on your ask box aren’t just being obnoxious and trying to tell you how they want the story to end. Maybe they’re mad at the fact that after everything that’s happened between Y/N and Jungkook, they’re still with the same mindset. I mean, even the whole “mutual help” agreement is over and they’re still the same characters when the story began. It makes you wonder if maybe that’s everything there is to their story 🤧

My point it’s that: if the story’s plot it’s based on that “mutual help” they had, isn’t it supposed to bring some noticeable change to the character’s life after instead of just passing by, almost uneventfully?

Anyway, I hope I don’t make you feel mad or sad with my whole ass analysis lol that really isn’t the point of it, I’m just seriously very confused with the way the story is progressing, and maybe clarifying some things, without spoiling anything, may help us readers understand where is this story going. Btw, none of this means that the story or the plot or the characters are bad AT ALL, I would say it’s the complete opposite, we are all SO immersed in it that we’ve got to the point were we’re just desperate for more! But yeah, thank you for your beautiful story! I’ll still check every update even if you decide to complete ignore this question lol ❤️❤️

As much as I appreciate you trying to justify all those asks, it doesn't change the fact how I feel about this whole thing. Frustrated, sad and overwhelmed, that's how I've been feeling for a few weeks now (maybe even months) because some people on this app are too much sometimes. It's one of the reasons why I disabled my asks.

If any of the readers have any problem with how the story is going, I've said too many times they don't have to read it. Them getting all frustrated over how I write my OWN story is ridiculous. People trying to tell me how to write my story is ridiculous. If you guys read my answers to every ask, you probably know by now what makes me frustrated and what bothers me the most. It doesn't take a genius to figure that out and I ask... how the hell people are still being so pushy with their own preferences? I've explained countless things so many times and honestly, I'm exhausted because of it. I feel like nobody listens to me what I'm saying and that puts a little disrespect in my opinion.

+ I get the feeling people don't read MH thoroughly and forget all the things that have been discussed there. I don't get the feeling as if the story went back to zero, I'm sorry that you do but well, I respect your opinion but obviously are opinions about this are very different. I can't believe I've to explain this all over again but well... here we go! y/n and Jungkook being still friends doesn't mean there are things that haven't slightly changed (whether they acknowledge it or not). Them acting like a girlfriend and a boyfriend has been explained by THEM, why they acted like that and even admitted it felt nice. There is an obvious attraction and their deal hasn't helped with that.

+ I know very well what I'm doing with my story [SLOW BURN STORY] and I asked readers many times to just trust me. I'm so freaking frustrated because if people are getting so frustrated over my story too, why the hell are they still reading it? I'm not asking for people to tell me what to do, directly or indirectly because I'm sorry but that's the vibe I'm getting from all those asks. They're not normal and typical asks of "oh I wish they were together" but the length those people are willing to go just to push their own preference is ridiculous.

+ If you think there's no character development (just because y/n x jk aren't together and jk x kiko are) then I'm sorry but MH isn't probably your kind of story. And I'm not going to point out what those characters development are because if you read the story thoroughly and with some sort of understanding, you could easily tell what it is and you wouldn't have to question me about it.

+ Again, if anyone finds this story so frustrating and draining (that's what you probably meant) just don't read it. I really appreciate everyone who does read it, but ONCE AGAIN... I'm not sure what to do with it? I'm not going to change the story and even though I do read those opinions, 90% of time I don't even know how to respond. And people willing to take some of their time to be frustrated in my inbox when you can probably tell that it is as much frustrating for me, is blowing my mind and not in the good sense.

+ Maybe they’re mad at the fact that after everything that’s happened between Y/N and Jungkook, they’re still with the same mindset. This fucking blew my mind all over again. As much as I'm aware a story can evoke a lot of feelings (one of the reasons why writing and reading stories is so amazing), this is different than just people being casually mad about something. And that's exactly it, people are mad and then they come into my inbox and spread negativity and even bigger distaste to writing for me. If anyone is so mad because of how story is going and it's hard for them to process it (now I'm going to be the one giving you an advice) just don't read it. And I don't mean this in any rude way, I genuinely think people shouldn't read it if them being so mad means they'll show their anger and frustration to me. Because newsflash but I'm a person behind this screen, I can get mad and frustrated too. Do you guys think these kinds of asks aren't hurting me to a certain extent?

+ You think this story is confusing? Alright, what am I supposed to do with it? Like, I'm genuinely curious what you guys expect me to do. I told you to trust me, it didn't help. I told you this story is a slow burn one, it didn't help. I told you there are things that are changing and if you read the story properly and with some understanding, you'd be able to notice it (even if it's not something big and eye-catching), that didn't help too.

+ It's not my responsibility to explain and clarify every thing people are confused about but still, I've always tried to explain everything but you know what? I don't feel like doing it again. Because every time people are confused about something, it always has something to do with the future of the story and people indirectly asking me about spoilers – whether you think it's true or not, I've been here long enough to know when people are trying to get answers out of me. Plus, it's very hard almost impossible to explain some things without spoiling anything. That's why I always told you guys to trust me and you'll get your answers at the right time.

I really hate explaining my thoughts like this because it makes me feel like a douchebag but I'm so sick of some people thinking like I owe them something. At the end of the day, I'm here to write a story and me interacting with all of my readers is my choice. I could easily just post a chapter and not care what people think, and I do think some people are using this fact over me thinking they can be impolite, rude, pushy and frustrating. I've been patient enough about this, but the more this keeps happening the more I'm questioning my presence here.

There... here are my thoughts and I know people will take from it whatever they want (or more like won't take anything from it) but honestly, I'm so exhausted if you couldn't tell by now. I'm so done with always justifying myself. These thoughts have been bubbling inside of me for so long and I always told myself to just close the app, breathe it out and come back positive... but I realized that every time I think about this, I feel exactly the same and I know that it's not my fault because that's how some of you make me feel.

All I ask if for mutual understanding because I've always been trying to be respectful and understanding, that's one of the things I've been very careful about.

[bthump]

I know this is very nitpicky, but what do you think is the level of awareness Griffith has during the stairwell scene? For a very calculated and rational guy like him, it's hard to imagine that he hasn't even tried to decipher where these strong reckless reactions come from. I mean... even king of denial Guts has reflected a bit on it. Enough to ask Griffith about it. I know yoy mentioned in a recent answer to an ask, that you don't headcanon Griffith as pining, so would you say that you (cont)

Would you say that you imagine that he compartimentalizes his thougts and represses to the point that he doesn't aknowledge at least to a certain extent, that his feeling for Guts are more passionate, than what he feels for other comerades. The fact that he fully realises the depth of those feelings once Guts leaves is clear. But Idk the stairwell scene makes me think that he is at least aware, that he has a bit of a crush, but choses to not give it much importance. Curious about your thoughts 

hmmm. okay first off I just want to say that I can see multiple possibilities, from full on repression and denial, to recognizing his attraction but not acting on it, to knowing he cares for Guts and wants him as a True Friend(TM) but often downplaying that because he believes Guts sees him mainly as a superior officer. But yeah I do prefer the denial and compartmentalization explanation and I want to go into why, because I think it’s fun to talk about lol.

So the big reason I read Griffith as refusing to acknowledge his feelings to himself is because that’s how he deals with all his other inconvenient feelings, like his guilt and fear and the fact that he cares about the Hawks. Like eg when he tells Gennon that he doesn’t feel a single emotion about him whatsoever, or when he tells Casca that he doesn’t feel guilty over the deaths of the Hawks, I don’t think he’s just lying to them, I think he’s convincing himself too, to the point where he really believes it.

It’s sort of hard to explain how I see this working in Griffith’s head bc it feels v intuitive to me but I know that’s not the case for everyone. So yk it’s not that I think he like, eg makes himself forget that he nearly had a breakdown in a river, but I think he doesn’t ask himself why he nearly had a breakdown beyond maybe a shallow ‘sex with gennon was unpleasant and made me uncomfortable for a couple hours but i’m completely fine now’ and doesn’t think about it afterwards if he can help it.

And when he tells Charlotte he doesn’t have any friends and tells Guts he belongs to him during the second duel, I think he’s telling himself lies/rationalizations he genuinely believes there too. In fact, I think his denial of his own feelings is straight up meant to be his tragic flaw, which is why he’s only able to finally acknowledge them in the torture chamber, after it’s caused his downfall.

In the torture chamber we see him remember the face-off with Zodd and acknowledge that it was an irrational thing to do and wonder why Guts is so important to him, and I think part of the reason the monologue works so well is because it’s the first time we see that kind of self-reflection sans lofty rationalization from him, because before he ended up trapped in his own brain for a year with nothing to distract himself in between bouts of torture he didn’t really ask himself these kinds of questions. If he had, things probably would’ve gone better for everyone.

And like, I don’t think this makes Griffith less intelligent, or negates his rationality in other areas of life. I don’t see a contradiction in someone being able to analyze a battlefield or read other people well but avoiding genuine soul searching whenever possible and lying to himself a lot. I think it’s actually pretty realistic - I don’t think very many people fully understand themselves or their feelings, even really self-reflective people, and it’s very easy to rationalize away inconvenient cognitive dissonance. and I include myself in that lol.

Griffith’s life is kind of a contradiction that would really fuck him up to untangle (he sends people to their deaths to achieve a dream for the sake of assuaging his guilt for sending people to their deaths to achieve a dream), so he doesn’t try to untangle it, he avoids the question and hides behind a philosophical ideal. And his feelings for Guts add to that cognitive dissonance because if he values Guts over the dream, that kind of proves his entire defensive life philosophy is bullshit and his whole life plan is built on a precarious house of cards, so it makes sense to me that he’d avoid examining those feelings closely too.

And you can look at Guts too, who does navelgaze a lot and tries to analyze his own feelings and motivations - when he’s faced with a contradiction (I want to become independent of Griffith and do my own thing solely to gain Griffith’s approval) he actually notices it and briefly questions himself... and then he still puts it out of his mind and continues pursuing his contradictory goal anyway, and manages to stay in denial for 3 days even after learning that Griffith ended up in a torture chamber because he left.

Along those same lines, Guts eg realizes that he kills things because it makes him feel better but he doesn’t make the connection between his irrational urge to fight powerful enemies and his childhood trauma the way the readers can, the King didn’t acknowledge his incesty feelings til Griffith shoved them in his face, Count Slug kept denying having human feelings til Puck went on a tirade against him and he couldn’t sacrifice his daughter, Casca lies to herself about her feelings for Griffith for a long time before finally acknowledging she’s in love and then doubles down on her Griffith feelings when her newer feelings for Guts threaten them until she has a breakdown and admits some things to herself (I mean I find that last one disappointing lol, but it’s also a really straightforward example of someone living in denial of romantic feelings and therefore a good comparison point to show that Miura does this on purpose), etc. So I think this interpretation of Griffith is also consistent with how Miura just like, tends to write people.

Like imo Griffith has moments where he comes close to self awareness and could’ve started potentially reflecting on his feelings and coming to better, more accurate conclusions, and those moments definitely include the Zodd conversation (as well as the river scene with Casca, and “do you think I’m cruel?”) but none of those scenes lead to useful self-reflection because they all go wrong. Casca tries but fails to reassure him bc she’s out of her depth, Guts reminds him of his dream, the King interrupts their conversation and Charlotte reorients Griffith towards his goal so he can move on from that moment of irrationality and refrain from thinking about it further for a while. Even after the duel Griffith tries to avoid self-reflection by fucking Charlotte imo (”take all the sad and frightening things and cast them into the fire” ie hey girl wanna repress some shit w/ me?), and imo his previous ability to do that makes it all the more impactful when it doesn’t work this time and he breaks down.

BUT YEAH all that said I don’t think this is the only reasonable reading of Griffith’s awareness of his feelings lol, it’s just the one I like best and consider the most satisfying and interesting and fun to think about. And honestly that’s partly because I love dramatic irony and have a real thing for characters who lie to themselves, so I’m biased in favour of it too. Nothing about Griffith being good at denial contradicts the idea that he could still be aware of an attraction to Guts (in that case he’d probably just write it off as irrelevant and deny the associated internalized-homophobia-related self-loathing lol until it all pours out while he’s projecting at the King), and he could eg be aware that he irrationally cares about Guts above and beyond anyone else and just doesn’t even try to reconcile that with his dream, ie compartmentalization in another way.

But I think the idea that he only fully admits it to himself in the torture chamber is just very narratively satisfying.

[whenisitenoughtrees]

Might I suggest “I don’t want to be alone.” with Royaliceit?

okay um. this one really got away from me, as i’m sure you can tell from the word count, so i really hope you like roman angst (w/ a happy ending, bc i’m not a monster)

Title: we are not alone (in the dark with our demons)

Word Count: 5,888

Content Warnings: roman-typical self-worth issues

(fic masterpost)

Roman has never really known what love is.

Oh, he pretends well enough. That’s his job, after all. He is Thomas’ hopes and dreams, his most romantic fantasies, and he performs that role well, spouting off suggestions about grand gestures and acts of true love and deeds of valor and honor and bravery. And it’s not as if he’s lying; based on every story he’s ever read, every Disney movie he’s ever watched, that is the epitome of what romance should be. And he thinks he would like that, would like to execute these grand gestures for someone, would like to sweep someone off their feet, be their savior, their hero.

Someone becomes Patton so gradually that he doesn’t notice for a very long time. Doesn’t notice how his heart beats faster whenever Patton is in the room, doesn’t notice how he hangs off Patton’s every word, doesn’t notice how he would do just about anything to get Patton to smile at him. Or rather, he does notice, sort of, in a vague, curious way. He’s just not sure what it means.

And then comes the wedding. And Roman thinks he understands what love is after all. Because the words of the others have always hurt him, their criticisms and mockery never as easily shaken off as he likes them to think, but this? This is something different. He watches as Patton sides with Deceit, with the side he was told not to believe, was told was in the wrong, was told was bad for Thomas, so you shouldn’t listen to him, Roman! He watches as Patton sides with Deceit, as Thomas sides with Deceit, upending everything he thought he believed, and the betrayal hits him like a knife to his chest. And he knows that it wouldn’t sting nearly so much if he didn’t trust Patton, if he wasn’t willing to follow him anywhere, if he didn’t love him, and the realization is far more bitter than sweet.

So, love is this: heartbreak, the stifling silences between breaths, and the words, we love you, said as if he is supposed to accept them.

He doesn’t. And why should he? He works so hard, tries his best every hour of every day, and this is what it gets him? A blow to the back of his head, faded and empty promises, a snake whispering in the dark, and Thomas turning away from him. You are! rings in his head, stuttered, placating, a lie.

And perhaps Thomas is right. Perhaps they are all right. And if Deceit is right, then he must be wrong. Isn’t that how it goes? Someone has to be the villain, after all. What else is he, if not a washed-up prince, a hero that has never managed to save anyone, a Creativity that is not nearly as good as he portrays himself to be?

God. No wonder they don’t love him.

So he throws himself into being better, into being more. He swallows his pride and apologizes to Deceit— to Janus, he supposes, though something about using the name still leaves an acrid taste in the back of his throat— and if the apology is a bit halfhearted, not entirely meant, Deceit doesn’t call him out on it, and he doesn’t call out Deceit’s apology in turn (and he has no idea, none at all, whether he means it sincerely or not. He can never tell, anymore, whether the words out of Deceit’s mouth are lies or truths, and sometimes, he thinks it doesn’t matter either way).

He asks Logan for input more often. He tries harder not to antagonize Virgil, or at least, not in the ways that truly bother him. He smiles at Patton when Patton approaches him, smiles and insists that he’s fine, even though he feels like his heart has been ripped out of his chest and dropped into oncoming traffic.

And Patton believes him. That is, perhaps, what hurts worst of all, that he doesn’t see the way he’s falling apart beneath the thin veneer of bravado.

But he can’t blame him for that. Roman is, if nothing else, a good actor. A good liar.

He spends more time working, coming up with ideas that are bigger and better than any of his previous ones. He presents them to Thomas, and acts like his entire being isn’t screaming for some form of validation, any scrap of affection, any crumb that might tell him that Thomas doesn’t think he’s too much of a failure after all. And sometimes, he gets that. Sometimes, the ideas are good. Sometimes, Thomas grins and thanks him and congratulates him on a job well done.

More often, the ideas aren’t good enough. More often, it’s back to the drawing board. He barely sleeps these days, can barely be bothered to try.

And he thinks about love a lot. Thinks in the privacy and secrecy of his own mind that maybe, love isn’t worth it, if it hurts this much. Thinks that he wishes that these feelings would go away, and then maybe, he could begin to claw his way back toward normalcy.

But he’s too aware of it, now. Too aware of the way that Patton smiles and moves, too aware of his kindness and his concern and the way he always tries to take such good care of everyone. The betrayal still sits heavy in his chest, but it’s like an old wound, now, one that still pains him but one that he can ignore most days, because in the end, he’s not sure that Patton was wrong at all in what he did, in choosing Deceit over him. He thinks that maybe he was wrong, that he still is, and he’s doing his best to change that, but he has never known how to be anything different from what he is. He has only known how to cover it all up, how to wrap himself in glittering paper and a shiny bow and hope that no one looks too closely at what lies underneath.

Perhaps he’s getting too lost in his own head. Perhaps that’s why he doesn’t see it coming.

It’s the only explanation he can think of. He should have noticed it, otherwise, should have seen the way that Patton and Deceit inch together, like two stars sliding into each other’s orbits. He should have seen the cautious glances, charged with so much more emotion than words could say, should have seen the tentative touches, should have seen the way they angle themselves toward each other whenever they’re in the same room. He should have seen it, should have guessed it, but he didn’t, so when Patton announces one night, over dinner, that he and Janus have decided to begin a relationship, he is taken completely by surprise.

Logan extends congratulations. Virgil’s blessing is far more cautious, still very wary of Deceit’s increased presence in their lives, but he appears glad for Patton, at least. And Roman offers the loudest, most boisterous well-wishes he can think of, professing his joy for Patton’s newfound happiness, putting forth anything and everything he can think of to direct attention away from the fact that on the inside, he just feels—

Numb.

Numb. Cold. Empty.

He knew he couldn’t have him. He knew that Patton could never return his affections. But apparently, there is a great deal of difference between knowing and knowing, and that difference is sobbed into his pillow in the early hours of the morning.

He falls into an uneasy sleep, and his dreams are of Patton, Patton smiling, Patton laughing, Patton telling him that he did good, Patton kissing him and tasting of citrus and cotton candy. And then, the dreams change, and Janus is there, too, sliding around the edges, smooth and confident and beautiful, his every motion poetry, his every glance a caress, and Roman takes his face in his hands and kisses him just as soundly as he did Patton, and then, he wakes up, shaking.

This cannot be right. This cannot be right, because these are all the emotions he pushed deep, deep down inside of him, never to see the light of day again. These are the emotions that he rejected after the theater, after the courtroom, after everyone told him time and time again that Deceit was wrong, that Deceit was bad, and if he wanted to be right, wanted to be good, he needed to treat Deceit like the villain he was. And so he did, and pretended that he has never wondered what Deceit’s lips would feel like on his, what it would be like to trace his fingers down those glimmering scales.

It seems that the time for pretending is over.

Once ended, an illusion cannot be reformed. The audience knows the trick now, would see right through any further conjuration. And Roman, too, can no longer fool himself into believing that what he feels does not exist, or that it will go away if he ignores it. He watches Patton, and he watches Janus, and he watches them together, cooking in the kitchen or cuddling on the sofa or simply sitting near each other and enjoying the company, and he burns for them, bright and hot and never-ending, fueled by the sheer force of his want. Roman is passion and Roman is desire, and he desires them, desires their attention and their affection and their love, and it’s like an arrow to his heart to know that he cannot have them, cannot have this.

Because they already have each other. And even if he were worthy of them in the first place, there is no space for him between them.

So, he does the hardest thing he has ever done in his life, and he pulls away.

He tries not to be obvious about it, tries not to do anything that might arouse suspicion or concern. He works longer, harder, makes excuses to miss meals and family gatherings. Loneliness settles into him like a physical weight, one that presses against his chest and makes it hard to breathe. Sometimes, he feels as though he stands on the edge of a precipice, a yawning chasm below, and all he has to do to fall is take one step forward. Sometimes, he feels as though he’s already falling, the wind whistling in his ears, gravity dragging him ever downward.

They give him looks, sometimes. Patton more often than Janus, though that might just be because Janus is more subtle. He can never interpret these looks. They’re always contemplative, perhaps a bit confused, perhaps a bit sad, and he doesn’t know what that means. Part of him fears that they’ve figured it out, figured him out, him and his hopeless, stupid love. Part of him wants them to, wants them to see right past him to all his dirty secrets, wants them to rip the bandage off, to let him down gently, to tell him what he already knows.

Part of him wants to fall.

The loneliness becomes tangible, surrounding him like a fog. He’s surprised no one else can see it. But then, that is the point, isn’t it?

He’s chosen this.

And it all hits him one evening, as the sun has just begun to set and he’s skipped yet another dinner, claiming to be off on a quest in the Imagination. He hasn’t been on a quest for a while, hasn’t been able to muster up the energy, or the persona. Quests are for princes, for heroes, and these days, he’s not so sure that he’s either of those. He certainly doesn’t feel like one. He plans to work instead, to churn out a few more video ideas for Thomas in the hopes that one is usable.

He finds himself curling up in a ball in the corner of his room, tears stinging in his eyes.

There’s no particular reason for it. Nothing about today has been any worse than any other recent days. This feels like something that has building for a while, like a rubber band stretched until it snaps. And he feels like he’s snapped, like something essential in him has broken, and he knows that he should be able to move past this, should get back up and get back to work, but he can’t, and that fact just sends him spiraling more, because if he can’t create anything and he can’t love properly, then what good is he?

He shudders, choking on a sob and sucking in a desperate breath. He stuffs his fist in his mouth, trying to muffle the cries that seek to escape him, as if from a wounded animal, and perhaps that’s exactly what he is. A wounded animal, begging for comfort, for solace, and finding nothing at all.

He wants someone here. Just, someone. Anyone. Someone to hold him and tell him that everything will be alright, even if it’s a lie. Someone to dry his tears, to grasp his hands, to touch him. He wants it and he can’t have it, and he feels so, so alone.

Even if he deserved reassurance, he wouldn’t seek it. He’s supposed to be strong, supposed to be a prince, for heaven’s sake, and even if he knows just how weak he truly is, the others don’t.

He can’t let anyone see him like this.

And that is when the knock sounds on his door, as if summoned by his thoughts. Four times, a light, quick beat. He freezes, alarm coursing through him.

“Hey, Roman?” It’s Patton. It’s Patton, and he sounds worried, and Roman hates himself for becoming a source of stress. “I, uh, I brought you dinner. I know you said you’d grab something later, but you haven’t been down for a meal with everyone in a while, so, uh. I’m getting a little bit worried about you. Could I come in?”

He takes a steadying breath. He needs to respond, because if he doesn’t, Patton will likely enter anyway, just to check on him. So he needs to reply, and hope for the life of him that whatever he says is good enough to persuade him to leave, to persuade him that all is well.

“Just leave it outside the door,” he calls out. His voice sounds thick and clumsy even to his own ears. It’s because of the tears, but perhaps he can claim he just woke up from a nap, if Patton asks. “I’ll grab it in a bit.” And then, he winces, because that sounds rude, sounds callous, sounds like he doesn’t care that Patton has made the effort to come up here and bring him food. It’s quite the opposite; he cares far too much. So he tacks on, “Thanks, Pat,” hoping that at least some of his gratitude will come across.

Instead, his voice breaks, and his breath hitches as he forcibly suppresses another sob.

For a long moment, Patton is silent.

“Are you… okay?” he asks. “I’m coming in, Roman.”

No.

“Please don’t,” he says, and realizes even as he does that his voice is too frantic, too desperate, and it won’t fool Patton for even a second. “I’m fine.”

The doorknob turns, and the door slowly swings open. Not all the way, just enough for Patton to poke his head through, his brows furrowed in concern. There is a plate in his hands, and the room fills with the scent of cooked pasta. Spaghetti, he thinks. One of his favorites.

“You don’t sound fine,” Patton says, and then his gaze finally lands on Roman, and Roman would like to melt into the floor in shame. He knows what he must look like, knows he must seem an utter disaster, with his rumpled clothes and tear-stained face, curled up in the corner like the pathetic mess of a side he is.

“Oh,” Patton says, eyes widening. He seems shocked for a moment, but then, he is moving, entering the room all the way and rushing to Roman’s side, setting the plate down on his desk before kneeling next to him, hands outstretched but not touching, not quite, as if he’s unsure of his welcome. “Oh, sweetie, what’s wrong? What can I do?”

He shakes his head, staring at him, because how is he supposed to tell Patton the truth? How is he supposed to tell him that he aches for him, him and Janus both, longs to disrupt the happiness they’ve found in each other? How is he supposed to tell him that he’s pulled away to try to get over himself, to prevent himself from doing something rash, to attempt to make the problem disappear, and instead has only succeeded in making himself feel worse? How is he supposed to admit any of this?

How is he supposed to admit that he’s a failure?

“It’s just…” he starts. “It’s too much, right now. I’ll, I’ll be okay, I just need…” He cuts himself off, burying his face in his hands, because he knows exactly what he needs, and he can’t let himself say it out loud, but if he voices anything else, it would be a lie, and he’s already lying to Patton so much, and he’s so tired.

“What do you need, honey?” Patton asks, but he just curls in on himself more.

New strategy: maybe if he doesn’t answer at all, Patton will get fed up and leave. It’s unlikely, because that’s just not the kind of person that Patton is. But it’s the only viable plan he has left.

Patton doesn’t leave.

“That’s okay, Roman. You don’t have to say anything if you don’t wanna.” Patton hesitates, and Roman is tempted to look at him, to take the measure of whatever expression is on his face. “Would it be alright if I touched you?”

And he does look then, looks and finds that the only emotion on Patton’s face is concern, a desire to help, so he nods, and Patton reaches out to him, gathering him into his arms, and Roman can’t remember the last time he was touched like this. He feels so safe, so warm, and so terribly, horribly guilty, because he can’t feel like he’s taking advantage of him, because Patton has no idea about the feelings that flutter in his chest, traitorous and excited by something so simple as mere contact, and his mind is so eager to twist this situation around, to make more out of it than it is.

Patton cares about him. He feels more secure about that than he used to. But it is the same kind of care that Patton offers to everyone, and he feels so selfish and awful for desiring more than that, and for not having the courage to even own up to doing so.

But he still relaxes into the embrace, lets Patton rub soothing circles into his back, even though it makes him sob harder, this moment that is so close to what he wants and yet so far.

“It’s gonna be okay,” Patton murmurs, “I promise. Everything’s gonna be okay.”

He shakes his head mutely. It’s all he can do.

Nothing is going to be okay. But he doesn’t have the words to explain that.

But maybe, if he can live in this moment for just a little while longer, he will regain the strength to pretend.

“Patton?” The voice floats in from outside his room, and he stiffens. “You’ve been gone for a while. Is everything— oh.”

Roman shifts his head, and his vision is blurry, but he can just make out the figure standing in his doorway, awkward and discomfited, his hands twitching as if he doesn’t know where to place them. It’s Janus, because of course it is Janus, come looking for his boyfriend, and here Roman is, taking up both of their time, now, and there is a part of him that selfishly delights in it, that insists that if this is all he will ever get from them, he might as well make the most of it.

“I can—” Janus shuffles his feet, oddly hesitant. “Here, I’ll just—”

He moves as to leave, and close the door behind him, and suddenly, that is the last thing Roman wants. It is too late to pretend that this never happened, too late to prevent him from seeing his humiliation in the first place. At this point, what is a little more selfishness?

“You can stay,” he murmurs, and he’s sure he doesn’t sound at all convincing, but Janus pauses anyway, a crease forming between his brows. When he enters the room, he does so cautiously, as if expecting Roman to change his mind at any moment, but he does enter, and that is what is most important. He kneels beside Patton, and Roman is certain that they exchange a glance over his head, some silent communication, before Janus tentatively reaches out and places a hand on Roman’s arm. It is clear that he is not practiced in offering comfort, but the fact that he is willing to try at all is enough to add to the tears still streaming down his face.

“Would you like to tell us what’s wrong?” Janus asks, and even when Roman doesn’t answer with anything more than hitching breaths and shallow sobs, turning his face back into Patton’s shirt because he can’t face this kindness, Janus doesn’t push him for more. Just sits there and offers silent support and a single source of contact.

It’s too much, really, having the both of them here, having Patton hugging him and Janus touching him, both of them offering care but not the kind of care that Roman wants most. And it’s so wrong of him to fool them into giving this to him, because this means so much more to him than it does to them and they have no idea. He’s essentially tricking them, tricking them in the worst kind of way, and the longer he sits there, crying against Patton’s chest, the worse he feels about it.

And eventually, his tears run dry. And he knows he has to end this.

“I’m okay now,” he mumbles, turning his head so that he’s no longer speaking into Patton’s shirt. “You guys can go.”

Janus arches a brow, and belatedly, Roman remembers that lying to the Lord of the Lies is an inadvisable move at best.

“Is that right?” Janus asks, doubt dripping from every syllable. He’s not aiming to wound, but Roman flinches anyway. “You’ve spent the past twenty minutes sobbing your heart out, and there’s absolutely no underlying reason that needs to be dealt with? Everything’s all hunky-dory?”

He wriggles out of Patton’s hold with no small amount of regret, shifting backward until there is a few feet of space between him and both of them. He tries to fix his expression into some semblance of a glare, though he’s certain it’s not very effective. He must look like a train wreck.

“All hunky-dory,” he confirms, and has to pause, because literally who says that anymore? He shouldn’t find that endearing. He shouldn’t. “I was just… overwhelmed. That’s all.”

It’s not technically a lie, so Janus shouldn’t be able to sense anything off. But he narrows his eyes in suspicion, reminding Roman that he’s still perfectly capable of detecting half-truths the normal way, though plain observation.

“You have been putting an awful lot of pressure on yourself lately,” Patton says, and Roman turns to him in surprise. Patton winces, wringing his hands. “I mean… I don’t wanna overstep any boundaries here, but it seems to me that we barely see you anymore, ‘cause you’re always holed up in here working. And I’m not saying that you need to stop or anything like that, especially not if you’re feeling a lot of inspiration these days, but, um. We miss you.” He pauses. “I miss you.” He says the last in an undertone, glancing at his lap, and Roman blinks.

“I didn’t…” He stops, trying to get his thoughts in order, but it’s a hopeless task. His thoughts are flying every which way, no rhyme or reason to them. “That is, I didn’t mean to—”

“If you’re going to finish that sentence with something along the lines of, I didn’t mean to avoid you, you needn’t bother,” Janus interrupts. His voice is smooth and unreadable, and something about it makes Roman want to crawl under a rock and hide there. “It’s fairly obvious to me that that’s exactly what you’ve been doing.” Patton frowns then, looking at Janus and opening his mouth to say something, but Janus holds up a hand, forestalling him. “What I don’t understand is why? Or at least, why Patton? Me, I get.”

It takes a moment for him to realize what Janus is saying, his mind taking far too long to wrangle his words into something approaching sense. “Wait, what?” he blurts out. “Why would you… why would you ‘get it’ if I was avoiding you?”

This is, perhaps, not the most urgent question he needs to ask. But he’s confused, now, confused and beginning to realize that once again, his actions may have had unintended consequences.

Janus looks at him like he’s crazy. “Roman, I am not unaware that you dislike me. And that’s… perfectly fine. After everything I’ve put you through, I… well, as I said, I understand.” He pauses, inhaling deeply, seeming to steady himself. “Again, I’m not asking for me. And I would appreciate an answer.”

Roman can only stare, his horror mounting as he realizes that Janus means every word of what he’s saying, that Janus truly believes that Roman doesn’t like him, and oh god, he’s gone and fucked all of this up, hasn’t he? He didn’t think they would notice him stepping back, much less draw the wrong conclusions, but apparently they have, and he’s stuck between a rock and a hard place. He can lean into this, pretend to be angry with them, pretend not to want them around, no matter how much that would break him. Or he can tell them the truth, and be broken in an entirely different way when they reject him, kindly at best and in disgust at worst. There’s no good option, and it’s all he can do to keep his breathing even, to keep his lungs functioning.

But he looks at Janus, his face set into hard lines. And he looks at Patton, who doesn’t meet his eyes, whose dejection is shining through every inch of his slumped posture and in the way he fiddles with his fingers, anxious and discontent.

He didn’t think this would hurt them. Frankly, he thought they were too wrapped up in each other to notice much of what he was doing at all. But evidently, he has miscalculated, badly, and there is no good option, but he knows which one will hurt them less.

He’s been selfish enough.

He releases a shuddering breath, shaking his head and staring at the floor. He doesn’t have it in him to look at them, to watch their reactions to what he’s about to say. “I’m really sorry,” he says, and his voice emerges as a miserable whisper. “I didn’t, I didn’t mean to make you think that—” He cuts off. Gathers his thoughts into a coherent sentence. By the nine muses, this is difficult. “I don’t… I don’t dislike you. Either of you. Um, it’s the opposite. I, uh, like you a lot. Both of you. Too much.” He curls in on himself, wrapping his arms around his stomach, as if to hide, though he knows that there is no hiding from this, no going back. “I just, you two were so happy, and I didn’t want to, to get in the way, or ruin something, but I guess I failed at that too, huh? I… god, I’m so sorry.”

He stops talking. There’s nothing more he can say. It’s out in the open, now. No take-backs.

He’s not sure what he’s expecting. But it’s not for Patton to lunge forward, to grab him by the shoulders and jerk him upright, to force eye contact, sudden and startled.

“You could never,” Patton insists, and to Roman’s dismay, his voice is choked with tears. “Do you hear me? You could never, ever ruin anything.” He sniffles, then, losing some of his intensity, and leans forward, pressing his forehead against Roman’s. “I thought that I’d messed up,” he says. “I thought that it was still too much, after the wedding and everything that happened, and that you still wanted space, or time, and I felt so guilty because I didn’t want to let you have that, but I thought that if it was what you wanted, then I shouldn’t—” He sighs, cutting himself off and closing his eyes. A tear slips out from between his eyelids.

Roman, for his part, barely dares to breathe. Patton is so close.

“You,” he says, a stuttering start, because he doesn’t know what he’s saying, doesn’t know what Patton is saying, “you, what do you—”

“I like you a lot, too,” Patton says, and Roman can see the way his eyes shine and swirl, his irises a smeared mixture of Thomas’ brown and his own signature blue. “I have for… gosh, a really long time now. I guess I never thought there was a good time for me to do something about it, and then with the… everything, I thought for sure that you didn’t… I’m so sorry, Roman. You’ve been hurting all this time and I didn’t… I couldn’t…” He trails off into a sniffle, and as much as Roman would like to comfort him, he is frozen, working through the words that echo in his ears and in his brain.

Because he can’t have said what he thinks he’s just said, right? Because that would mean—

Unable to help himself, he looks over to Janus, expecting to see anger or dismay or something of the like, because if Roman is hearing this correctly, if Roman is interpreting this correctly, then Patton… Patton has just confessed to having feelings for him. And that in itself is difficult to process, impossible to accept, but surely Janus can’t approve of this, can’t allow this to happen, can’t let Roman get between him and his boyfriend—

Janus is staring, his eyes flitting back and forth between the two of them, and his expression is open and unguarded but there is no anger there, no fear, and when he catches Roman looking, it softens, suddenly, inexorably, and Roman can’t hope to understand it because he must be seeing wrong, because it looks an awful lot like—

Well. It looks an awful lot like the way he looks at Patton.

“You’ve always captivated me,” Janus says, simply, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. “I… I know that I’ve flattered you in the past, but I, ah. I might have meant more of it than I wanted to let on.” He glances away, as if embarrassed, and Roman feels as though he’s floating. “I’ll be the first to admit that I haven’t acquitted myself well, and for that, I am truly sorry.”

“We’ve talked about this, a little bit,” Patton says softly, and Roman drags his attention back to him, little though he wants to look away from Janus, from this confession that he can scarcely bring himself to believe. “You, that is. We both love you a whole lot, Roman. We didn’t think you’d be interested, so we didn’t bring it up before. But we’d be really, really happy if you’d join us, honey.”

He shudders, tearing himself away from Patton and immediately feeling the loss, the cold air against his forehead. He doesn’t know what to do, or what do say, and most of him can’t absorb the fact that this is happening, that this is real, that after so long being on his own, they’re both here, they know that he loves them, and they want him in return.

He should be ecstatic. Over the moon. Jumping for joy. But he has never once allowed himself to believe that he might have this, has never so much as entertained the possibility, so now, presented with everything he has longed for, he feels so terribly overwhelmed.

“It’s up to you,” Patton says softly. He reaches out, and when Roman doesn’t move to stop him, he takes his hand, and Roman could cry, he really could. “Whatever you’re comfortable with, whatever you want, we can do.”

He shakes his head desperately, a multitude of words springing to his lips but all of them falling short of being spoken, because he doesn’t know how to explain this, how to explain that it’s too much, being asked this, being asked what he wants, because he wants anything and everything, but he has spent so long telling himself that he can’t that he doesn’t know what to do now that he’s being told that he can.

And some of that must show on his face, because Patton scoots closer, concern driving a furrow in his brow, but then, suddenly, Janus is there, a steady presence at his side, one hand gently resting on his shoulder.

“It’s alright if you’re not ready for that,” he says, and Roman has never heard Janus speak so tenderly. Not like this, not to him. “It’s alright if you’re not ready for anything at all. But if you’d like, you could try starting with what you don’t want.”

At first, he’s not sure what Janus means, not sure how that will help. But then, his perspective flips, and he finds it easier, somehow, to focus on that, rather than the alternative. He wants so much, and he is too used to denying himself, but at this point, he knows very well what he doesn’t want.

“I don’t want to be alone,” he gasps out, and it’s practically a sob, weak and shattered. “Please, don’t leave me alone.”

Patton shifts closer once again, wrapping his arms around him for a second time. And Janus is here, too, pressing up against his side.

“Never,” Patton swears. “You never have to be alone, not ever again.”

“And that’s the whole truth and nothing but,” Janus adds, a bit wry but somehow still infinitely soft.

And they stay. With him. Just because he asked. And slowly, their proclamations sink in, the idea that perhaps they really do love him return, and goodness, he’s been so foolish, hasn’t he? Pushing them away because he thought it best, because he was so sure they wouldn’t want him, when really, it was the opposite. He hovers somewhere between laughing and breaking down into tears once again, but ends up doing neither, relaxing into the warmth of Patton’s arms holding him, of Janus right by his side.

Perhaps he was wrong, before. Perhaps even now, he has never truly understood what love is. He has spent the last weeks and months defining it by heartbreak, but perhaps it was never about that at all.

So, perhaps love is this: acceptance, the rhythm of three hearts beating as one, and the words, we’re not leaving, said aloud and finally, finally, Roman thinks he can accept them.

General Taglist:@just-perhaps @the-real-comically-insane @jerrysicle-tree @glitchybina @psodtqueer @mrbubbajones @snek-boii @severelylackinginquality @aceawkwardunicorn @gayerplease @elizabutgayer @dwbh888 @thatoneloudowl @sanderssides-angst @gayboopnoodle @wildfire5157

[ffwriterbts]

Lunar- BTS Werewolf AU Part 6

AN: As I’ve said before, if slowburn BTS werewolf AUs that have springlings of angst, smut, and fluff, this is the story for you! Other than that, please leave a like or comment so I know you’re enjoying the story!! The sections should start getting longer as I keep updating :)

Also! Let me know if you want to be on a tag list for this story!

Word Count: 8.1k

Warnings: PARENTAL ABUSE; BEATINGS; mentions of gang activity;  general angst; mental health issues; soulmate themes if you squint: seriously if you aren’t into angst don’t read this bc :)))) it’s angsty 

Posted: 17 Jan 2021

Tag List: @happynightmareprincess

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But as always, things don’t last forever. Good things rarely last for long enough to really savor them, especially around all of them.

It was during one of the lovely movie nights that YN’s phone started ringing. At first, YN tried to ignore it, not wanting to be rude during the movie, but when it just wouldn’t stop ringing, she made way too many embarrassed apologies as she went to the other room to answer it.

“Hello?”

“YN! My darling daughter! I’ve been calling and calling, don’t you ever pick up for your mother anymore?” YN blood ran cold as she heard the voice she hadn’t heard since she had fully moved into her uncles home.

“I- I’ve just been unloading groceries mom, I couldn’t get to the phone.” The lie falls far too easily from her lips, just like so many others had before.

“Well at least you’re eating, dear.” The sickly sweet tone made YN want to puke, even as she listened more to the woman she had the displeasure of calling her mother on the other end of the line.

“You need to come back to the house, your dear great aunt has passed and you need to come for the funeral.”

YN takes a deep breath before she responds, not wanting to sound too eager.

“Oh, Mother! Of course, I’ll come in! I can stay at the hotel do-” YN starts,

“Nonsense! I’ll be damned if my daughter stays outside of the home when she’s in my city! Your father will be absolutely tickled that you’re here again.” YN’s mother spoke with such assuredness that YN almost agreed without a second thought, not wanting to anger the woman.

“Of course Mom, I’ll stay at home.” Her voice is barely above a whisper, all the fight that is normally in her tone gone from it in an instant, even slipping into the same vernacular she had when she was younger.

“There you go dear, isn’t that much nicer? It’ll be a joy to have all you kids under one roof again, even if it is because of something so nasty.” YN could feel a headache coming on as she listened to her mother drone on about what the dress code was, and how she was so heartbroken, and on and on.

“Are you going to be bringing anyone with you? Huh? It’s been such a worry that you’re all alone up in those woods.” YN is snapped back to attention at the words, and she quickly says that yes, she will be bringing someone with her to the funeral.

Secretly, she has no idea if any of the boys will even want to go with her, but the prospect of going back to that house without one of them to protect her made her feel even worse than the clearly fake worry laced in her mother’s voice.

“Wonderful dear, I’ll be sure to make up your room so it’s nice for the two of you. I’m very progressive, you know.” YN can feel the hot tears making tracks on her face even as she says a quick yes to her mother, listening to the woman drone on as she tries to find a way out of talking to her mother for any longer than she has to.

“Listen Mom, I’ve got to get these groceries put away, when should I be at the house?” YN’s voice is shaking, timid. She’s forgotten completely about the boys in the other room, consumed with the fear of what was to come.

“The funeral is on Saturday, so you should come down Thursday afternoon, to make sure you’ve got time to talk to everyone before you head back out to nowhere. I expect you before noon.” YN’s mother hangs up the phone after she speaks, and YN lets the phone clatter to the floor.

YN is quick to follow, her legs giving out from underneath of her. She is expecting the jolt of hitting the floor, but instead is drawn quickly into the arms of one of the boys. She clenches her jaw, feeling like she’s just overreacting. It's not really that bad, right?

“YN, hey, it’s okay.” YN realizes when he speaks that it was Namjoon who had stopped her from falling to the ground. She could feel the words riverbreate in his chest as he told the others to go back into the living room and fully picked her up, taking her into the other room as well.

“We’re here for you YN, it’s okay. You can’t get hurt here, remember?” Jimin is off to one side, rubbing her back as YN curls up on Namjoon’s lap, burying her face in the crook of his neck.

She’s embarrassed. She feels like she’s overreacting, like the memories of what it was like living in that house aren’t really real and she’s just made the whole thing up. YN really wanted to believe the simple lies she told people of what her home life was like, but she couldn’t hide anymore. Not from them.

“I- I’m sorry.” YN’s voice is soft, all of the parts of her personality that made her who she was were completely gone as she balled her hands into fists. Absently, she noted how it hurt when her nails dug into her palms, but she didn’t make any moves to unclench her fists. She needed the jolt of pain just as much as she needed oxygen.

Hoseok ended up on the other side of her, and he moved to grab her hands, putting his fingers between her nails and her palms, making her unclench the firsts.

“You don’t have any reason to be sorry Mini, you can’t control the way you react to things like that.” YN barely registers what Taehyung says, smiling absently at the familiar nickname he had given her.

“Tell us what’s wrong, sweetie, let us help you.” It’s Hoseok who speaks this time, wiggling his fingers in her hands, trying to make her smile at least a little bit.

“Someone died.” YN’s voice is devoid of any sort of emotion now, and the boys share glances out of worry.

“I have to go back to that house. To those people. They hate me, because I’m not really theirs. Can-” YN cuts herself off, tears welling up in her eyes despite the fact her voice had a sort of trained evenness to it.

“Can one of you come with me? I- I told my mother that I’d bring my boyfriend but that isn’t exactly what we are and I can’t make the choice myself and I don’t want to go alone and I- I- I’m just- I just” YN chokes on her words, speaking too fast as fear swells up in her chest again.

She shouldn’t have told her mother someone would come with her, it was stupid of her to assume one of them would be willing to go into that situation. She could handle it by herself, after all. How many years did she deal with everything that came from that house completely on her own?

Without more than a couple seconds to pause, there are seven voices saying “I’ll do it.”

YN can’t help but smile to herself, internally cringing at the fact her mother is going to expect a certain level of intimacy. The thought of making any one of them uncomfortable... YN can't even bear to finish the thought.

“Um be-before you say yes, Mother is going to expect us to be, well, t-touchy. And we’ll have to share a bed and I’m sure she will make us kiss to prove that it isn’t fake and- and-” YN starts speaking too fast again, and the seven men look among each other again.

“I’ll still do it.” Again, all seven of them respond without any hesitation and this time, YN lets out half a giggle. With a few final sniffles, YN moves off of Namjoon’s lap and into one of the big, comfy chairs.

“I can’t take all of you!” YN gives a soft smile that is bordering on sad as she looks between the boys that have stolen every piece of her heart. She really didn’t know what she would ever do without them.

“You know what this calls for, don’t you?” Jin is the one to speak up, looking steadily between the other boys.

“Clearly, we need to compete to see who’s most worthy of being with YN during this time, hm?” Yoongi this time, also eyeing everyone up.

“Oh, you all can withdraw now, I’m sure I’ll win.” Jungkook speaks up, a hint of laughter in his voice.

“Shouldn’t you be the one to withdraw, as the youngest?” Jin is being sassy to the younger boy.

“Why are you so confident, huh? Who says I won’t win?” Jimin speaks up this time, raising an eyebrow.

YN just giggled as she watched them go back and forth, feeling much more at ease, and like the whole thing was just some weird fever dream.

With a sudden shout of “rock, paper, scissors!” from Namjoon, the boys were off, engaging in the battle of the century to see who would accompany YN to the funeral.

After three intense rounds, Jungkook let out a yell, having been deemed the victor. Taehyung pouts, but the game stands, and Jungkook is officially the one that is going with YN.

Once the group calms down and everything settles back into a more normal state, the boys start asking questions.

“Um, YN, I hate to ask things that might be painful, but I thought you were close to your mom?” Namjoon speaks up again, looking at YN with a curious glint in his eye.

“Oh, yeah, well, um, basically, er-” YN is tripping over her words, her ears feeling hot as she tries to figure out how to explain what in the hell her home life was like.

“You don’t have to tell us anything you don’t want to Mini.” It’s Taehyung again, shooting a look at Namjoon.

“No, no, it’s okay I just- I don’t know how to tell you that it’s, well, weird.” YN turns to look at her hands, playing with the blanket she was wrapped up in. “My parents and I didn’t have a great relationship for most of my life, because I was supposed to be their child when they couldn’t have their own. But then they did. My younger brother and sisters are the light of their lives, and I’m just…” YN trails off, trying to find the words to describe what it was like in that house.

“Well, I was there to make fun of. The bad example. The one to take the anger out on.” YN shrugged in a way that made it seem like the words she was speaking were nonchalant, normal conversation, though they were anything but.

“Dad used to hit me when I didn’t do what he wanted. And then make it up to me by buying me whatever I wanted. Nobody cared about the yelling, the screaming, the beatings. All they could see were the things . And Mother was on board with it all, until Dad started to find his pleasures in other women. Then she was suddenly on my side, picking fights with Dad that I always had to take the brunt of.” YN shivers, eyes wide as she grips the blanket tightly. She wills herself not to cry in the silence of the room.

“Mother tried to make things better between us once my uncle died. At first, I believed it too- I needed to, I think.” YN gives a little frown, licking her lips quickly as she unclenches her hands. The boys share looks with each other, the discomfort palpable.

“I believed that she really cared, you know. That she had really changed and things were different. And then I met all of you. I saw the way you cared for each other, the way you speak to each other. Even when you’re angry or upset or mad, you’re kind to each other. It was strange at first, seeing you all be so nice even when you’re clearly big enough and strong enough and skilled enough to hurt each other, if you really wanted to.”

YN’s words this time are punctuated by soft gasps, though she isn’t sure who exactly was reacting.

“Seeing all of you with each other, seeing how you interact with each other. Then seeing and feeling that you treat me the same way? I realized as soon as we became friends that my mother’s concerns weren’t real. You all have shown me more love and kindness in the past few months that I have ever felt in my whole life, and I couldn’t be more grateful for that.” YN’s voice was soft again, though not because she was feeling anything overly negative. In fact, she was almost overwhelmed by the amount of love that she felt for the boys that had helped her realize how gentle people could be.

After a few solid beats of silence, Jimin goes and walks over and pulls YN out of her chair and into a hug.

“I love you too.” He says as he squeezes her, being careful not to be too rough. Before YN can really process anything, she’s in the middle of a group hug, with confessions of love being thrown her way from all sides.

YN can’t help but laugh and tell them that she loves them just as much as they love her, feeling more happiness in that moment than she thought possible.

~~~~~~

Thursday had come much sooner than YN had wanted it to. Sure, it had only been a couple days, but YN was still nervously twisting her hands in her lap during the entire car ride. She was thankful that Jungkook had offered to drive, seeing as her nerves were a wreck.

“Do you want to talk more about what is and isn’t okay?” Jungkook’s sweet voice brings YN out of her reprieve.

“Yeah, um, what sort of things are you okay with?” YN can feel the heat in her ears as she asks the question, silently hoping he will just tell her so she doesn’t have to think about it.

“I’m okay doing whatever needs to be done to keep you safe.” Jungkook’s voice takes on a bit of an edge as he speaks, and YN swallows hard.

“Um okay, well, you already know we will have to share a bed, which we did yesterday so it wouldn’t be so weird. And, well, um, you’ll have to hold my hand and stuff like that.” YN glanced out of the corner of her eye at Jungkook to see if he was reacting badly, but she found him sitting there with an adorable smile on his face, eyes focused on the traffic around them.  

“And if she thinks we aren’t real and asks us to kiss?” He asks, turning to look both ways before he crosses over a road and seeming not to pay too much attention to YN or her reactions.

“Um well I-” YN starts, pausing to take a deep breath and steady herself. “I’m okay with it if you are.” Her words are shaky, unsure.

“We don’t have to, YN. It’s okay.” Jungkook’s brow furrows slightly as he makes a turn, sensing YN’s discomfort but misreading it as a sign she doesn’t want that kind of intimacy.

“No- I-” YN sighs deeply, twisting the material of the sweater she was wearing between her fingers nervously. Jungkook takes notice of her nervous habit, and he grabs one of her hands in his own as he continues to drive. YN swallows again, feeling her ears burn hotter as she turns to face him a little more. To deny that it was an attractive move would have been akin to some sort of basal, universal mistruth.

“I’m not uncomfortable with it you know, but I don’t want to get used to something that won’t continue.” Her words are soft, the usual bite of her tone is gone, but they are the most sure sounding words he had heard her speak since the whole ordeal had begun.

“YN, baby, if you want physical affection in that way from any of us, all you had to do was let us know.” Jungkook lets out a soft little laugh, giving YN’s hand a small squeeze. Her heart flips at the pet name, so familiar as it falls from his lips.

“But it’s not my place to ask for something I don’t deserve.” The words are out of YN’s mouth before she can tell herself not to say them, that the appropriate response would be to tell the boy that yes, she would love to get more-than-platonic physical affection from them (though it could be easily argued their affection was never platonic in the first place).

“I- I mean that I would absolutely love that sort of affection if you’re willing to give it, um-” YN can feel her face growing hot as she withdraws her hand from Jungkook’s, lacing her fingers together and setting her hands on her lap.

“You deserve everything YN. And you most definitely deserve that kind of affection, we just didn’t want to overstep your boundaries. Any one of us would give you the world if you asked.” Jungkook’s words are simple, and YN can’t help the tears that well up in her eyes. She can feel plainly the love behind his words, and the entire situation is completely overwhelming for her.

She reaches over and grabs his hand again, smiling softly to herself as the car falls into a comfortable silence for the remainder of the ride. YN is grateful, in those moments, that Jungkook isn’t half as loud or crazy as he seems when he’s around Tae or Jimin.

Once they finally pull into the driveway of YN’s family home, YN lets out a shaky breath.

“Promise me you won’t let them hurt me Kookie, please.” It’s a half whisper and it comes out like a whimpering plea. Jungkook can feel the fear that has settled into YN’s bones, and it makes him want to rip the heads off of every single person who’s ever hurt her.

“YN-ah, look at me.” He pauses until she turns to face him, at which point he carefully traces her jawbone. “You’re safe with me. The boys aren’t far away, and nothing will ever hurt you again. You’re ours now, and we don’t let anything happen to our people.”

He looks her dead in the eyes as he speaks, seeming to search for something. YN is looking at him with those big, innocent eyes she always does. Her trust in him, in them, is greater than any fear she had, and he can sense that. And suddenly, their lips connect, soft and sweet. It seems to take all the breath from YN’s lungs and give them more oxygen than ever before all at once, and it’s cut off all too soon for her liking.

Jungkook softly rests his forehead against hers, breathing in sync with her. Absently, he thinks of how both Taehyung and Yoongi will be pouty when they find out he got to be the first one to kiss her, and that just makes him want to do it again and again.

So he does, and YN couldn’t have been happier about it. She wanted to slip into a world where it was just the two of them, nothing else going on, nobody else to worry about.

What she got instead was a very disgruntled looking mother knocking at the window of Jungkook’s car, calling for her to come out. Taking a steadying breath, YN plasters a smile on her face and hops out of the vehicle, to face her mother.

“YN, my dear daughter! It’s so nice to have you back in the home! And who is this handsome devil? Hm? You must really be something special to go for someone like my daughter with your looks.” YN’s mother moves from speaking warmly to YN, to snidely about her to Jungkook.

“I’m Jeon Jungkook, it’s a pleasure to meet you Mrs. YLN.” Jungkook gives a bow, and YN almost scoffs. She doesn’t like the way he’s being so respectful, though she never would have expected anything else. “And I assure you, it’s your daughter who is settling for me.”

YN gives a smirk at her mother’s slight frown at that comment. Of course he would have noticed the crude remark.

They make their way into YN’s family home, taking their bags up to YN’s bedroom before returning to the living area. YN is pleased to find that her brother had also brought someone, and that there were all sorts of family members milling about the house.

Jungkook stuck close to YN for the entire afternoon and evening, rolling up his sleeves to show off his tattoos at every chance he got. He also tended to stand between YN and either of her parents whenever the opportunity was given to him, which YN appreciated more than anything.

Jungkook also found that YN had purposefully let down the last bit of the barrier that was still in her mind so he had complete access to her thoughts and feelings. This meant that, as soon as YN felt threatened or like something wasn’t quite right, he was there to save the day. He had to admit that YN opening herself up to him like that made the Alpha part of him feel absolutely wonderful.

YN, on the other hand, wanted nothing more than to curl up into Jungkook’s arms and have him take her away from there. She was dreading what would happen once everyone else left, seeing as her brother was staying with his girlfriend and neither of her sisters would arrive from college until the next afternoon.

As the people cleared out of the house, YN anxiety levels rose exponentially. The snide remarks were much less hidden as the people left, none of which are missed by either YN or Jungkook. Despite YN trying to field the situation and talk her parents into being a little nicer, they do nothing to mask their ill intent.

YN feels sick to her stomach at the thought of how she once believed that this was the pinnacle of what love felt like, seeking out Jungkook’s soft touches to ease her discomfort. Jungkook, on the other hand, felt more and more like pulverizing both of YN’s parents with each passing second. The anger radiated off of him like heat waves, and honestly, it gave YN more courage to stay calm and not pay attention to what her parents were trying to do. She knew, at the first sight of real danger, she would have Jungkook there in an instant to protect her, and three of the others outside within five minutes.

And so, things went as smoothly as was to be expected the entirety of those first few hours. YN and Jungkook even went up to go to bed without any real issues, which YN was more than grateful for.

The two decompressed in YN’s room for a long while, with Jungkook laying his head on YN’s chest so he could listen to her heartbeat as they both processed the events of the day. YN ran her fingers through Jungkook’s beautiful mane as she tried to figure out what her next moves were. She felt oddly safe, which she completely attributed to Jungkook and the rest of the pack.

It was nearing midnight when YN stirred under Jungkook, carefully moving his half-asleep from to the side so she could sneak downstairs for a glass of water. She hadn’t realized just how thirsty she was until she tried to swallow and her mouth was just completely dry, so down the stairs she went.

Jungkook, being the big baby he is, insisted on her giving him a kiss before she left, asking her if she needed him to come with. She just giggled, telling him not to be silly and to go back to resting.

YN was as quiet as she could be going down the stairs, not wanting to wake anyone up. She had gotten all the way to the kitchen and grabbed a glass for water when the deep voice of her father startled her.

“What in the world are you doing down here?” His voice is gruff and slurred. Turning around to face him, YN can smell the alcohol from across the room.

“Nothing sir, I’m just getting water.” YN’s voice is small and she can’t bear to look at her father as he stalks closer to her.

“I know what you’re doing with that boy upstairs. The only way some thing like you could have landed that boy was by opening your whorish legs for him. Did you even last a whole week before you were on your knees, huh?” His words bring tears to YN’s eyes even as she wills herself not to cry.  

Upstairs, Jungkook’s eyes snap open as he realizes what is going on, feeling the distress coming from YN.

“N-No sir.” YN’s voice is so unsure, she even sounded like she was lying to herself.

“Yeah right” He spits at her feet, grunting as his grimy hand reaches out to grip her chin, forcing her to look up at him. “A bitch like you? If you didn’t open your legs, you must be running drugs for him. Is that it? Uh?”

YN struggles to break away, to deny the claims even as her father’s grip gets tighter on her jawbone. He takes another swig from the bottle he had been drinking, grunting and throwing it across the room when he finds it empty.

Harshly, he tosses her head from his grip, another crude grunt falling from his lips as he watches his daughter fall to the ground.

“I never understood why your uncle liked a worthless bitch like you so much. That house was supposed to go to us, and here you are, living in it like you deserve to live there! Like you took care of them! Like you wanted it!” His words get more and more harsh as his face turns blotchy, anger and disgust lacing his words.

As he raises his hand to strike the girl that is cowering before him, making claims about how this is all she will ever be good for, YN squeezes her eyes shut and prepares for the pain that is to come. She waits for the familiar sting, her heart seeming to beat out of her chest as one beat passes. Then another.

She hears a sickening crunch, but doesn’t feel... anything. Then there comes another, and another, and the various sounds of flesh hitting flesh. YN still doesn’t feel anything, so she slowly cracks open her eyes.

What she finds when she opens them is one seething Jeon Jungkook absolutely destroying the man who had tormented her her entire life. She can both see and hear bones snap under his sharp blows. She can see the blood pour from his split skin. She can hear the too-loud cries of her father as he tries to harm Jungkook in vain.

Despite the carnage in front of her, YN can’t help but let out a happy sort of smile as she rushes forward, not wanting Jungkook to kill the man. There isn't a doubt in her mind that murder is the only thing on Jungkook's mind.

“Kook, Kookie! Stop!” YN yells, dodging his elbows as she tries to get into his line of sight. “Don’t kill him!”

YN finally manages to grab onto one of Jungkook’s arms and tug him backwards slightly. He looks quickly at YN before turning and spitting on her father, growling out a quick “Don’t you dare touch our YN ever again ” before turning fully to YN and drawing her into his arms.

He was covered in blood, but in this moment, YN really couldn’t have cared any less because it all felt like it was over. She pulled away from him slightly, not caring at all that he had gotten blood on her clothes, and tugged him down to her level for a kiss. She could feel his muscles still flexing even as his arms fully wrap around her frame, though she knows she isn't in any sort of danger.

“Thank you” she breathed, tears slipping down her face even as she felt nothing but a wild sort of happiness.

“Come on baby, let’s get our things. The boys will be here soon, we can go home.” Jungkook presses another kiss onto her lips as he brushes the spot on her jaw where her father had gripped it, wanting to wipe away all traces of the disgusting man off of his precious Omega.

YN holds onto his hand tightly as they make their way upstairs, gathering the few things they had gotten out hastily. It dawned on YN that it looked almost as if they never really planned to stay there at all, with how little they had unpacked, and she was perfectly okay with that.

It wasn’t until they stepped outside of YN’s bedroom that they met their next challenger. YN’s mother was absolutely fuming as she ran up the stairs, screeching in that horrible high pitch of hers that they were going to pay for what they did.

“YN! You filthy bitch! You ugly whore! You scheming cunt!” The screeches come as YN’s heart drops into her stomach. She feels the way Jungkook tenses beside her, ready and willing to hurt the woman if she deserves it.

“What the fuck did you do to my husband? What the fuck is wrong with you! We took you in, we cared for you, we loved you! We fed you and clothed you! And this is how you repay us? Huh?” YN’s mother is too close to them now, though a sharp growl from Jungkook sends the furious woman back a couple steps. She may have been completely irrational, but she wasn't actually stupid.

“No I-” YN starts, at least trying to talk some sense into the woman.

“NO! NO!? You ugly little whore! You and that freak need to get out of this house, right now!” YN swears her mother is going to pop a blood vessel, and honestly, she’s not sure she would really care.

“Mom please-” Again, YN is cut off by her mother’s devilish voice.

“No! We never should have taken you into our home! We never should have signed the papers to make you our responsibility! You and that oaf you call a boyfriend are just a pair of worthless bastards!” At this point, even Jungkook’s warning growls and glares do nothing to make the woman back away, but it isn’t until she reaches out her hand to push YN that he really steps in. He captures the woman’s wrist in his hand with a practiced sort of ease, stepping between YN and her mother before he speaks to the enraged woman.

“Listen here you worthless hag, you are going to step aside and let our darling girl pass. You are going to attend to your dipshit husband before he bleeds to death, and you are never going to speak to YN again. Do you understand me?” Jungkook’s voice holds an edge that YN had never heard before. She can almost hear the way her mother’s wrist muscles strain, threatening to tear as Jungkook’s unrelenting grip tightens.

“I said, do you understand?” His voice drops into a lower register as he motions for YN to grab the bags and move past him. As much as he is sure she wouldn’t mind her mother getting hurt, he doesn’t want to do anything more in front of his sweet girl.

YN brushes past him with the bags, oddly calm for everything she had witnessed. She is sure that her lovely Kookie will take care of everything, and that there will be three other boys waiting for her outside, ready to whisk her away.  

When she opens the door, she is immediately swept up by someone, the bags dropping to the ground as she is spun around. It had only been a few hours, but the events of the day had left the entire pack on edge.

“Thank the heavens you’re okay.” It isn’t until he speaks that YN realizes that it’s Yoongi who has hold of her. YN doesn’t say anything, instead clinging onto the boy like he was her world. Yoongi carries her to the car, going to put her in one of the seats until she looks at him with those beautiful eyes of hers and asks him not to go, and suddenly she is lovingly curled up in his lap.

Meanwhile, Jungkook is only just coming out of the house as YN is settled into the car. He spots Hoseok and Jin putting the bags in the back of one of the cars. The two rush up to him and ask if anything else needs done, to which Jungkook shakes his head. He silently hands his keys to Hoseok as he heads over to the passengers side of his own vehicle.

“I had to break the woman’s wrist. I don’t know if the man will live or not. We should leave.” Jungkook hops into the vehicle, collapsing down into the seat in exhaustion.

Hoseok and Jin share a sideways glance before they quickly switch keys. Out of the two people that had been in that house, Jungkook was the more likely to need medical attention, so Jin would drive him back to the mansion. Hobi would follow in the other vehicle, keeping an extra eye on YN and making sure Jin got updates as needed.

They all knew that there would be plenty of questions to be asked and answered in the morning, but for the time being, they were focused on getting YN and Jungkook home and rested up.

~~~~~~

Once they pull into their driveway, Jungkook and Jin go straight into the house, knowing that it would be their job to brief the others about what had happened. Yoongi refuses to let YN down, carrying her into the house as Hoseok opens the doors for the two of them.

“I’ll keep her in my room tonight, to make sure she’s okay. You go make sure Kookie's alright.” Yoongi speaks softly to Hobi when they reach the living room, giving the man a soft smile.

“You know what to do if you need anything.”  Hoseok says simply, returning Yoongi’s soft smile as he gently rubs YN’s back. She hadn’t put the remaining barriers back up in her mind, so both boys knew that YN was absolutely exhausted and just trying to figure out what in the world the jumble of her thoughts were.

Honestly, her brain was a mess but it was clear that YN really didn’t want to be alone right now, which the boys respected.

Yoongi didn’t set YN down until he very carefully placed her on his bed, looking at her in the light properly for the first time. She had a very visible bruise on her jaw from where her father had gripped it and blood all over her clothes from Jungkook.

“Go take a shower princess, I’ll get you something to sleep in.” Yoongi’s voice is soft as he gently moves her head to get a better look at the bruise. He couldn’t deny that it made him angry that someone had marked his Omega. “It’ll make you feel better, I promise.”

YN just looks at him with those big eyes of hers, sadness in her gaze even as she felt comfort in his gentleness. With a little more gentle prodding, she makes her way into the bathroom, Yoongi getting her a fresh towel for when she finishes.

She spends quite a while in the shower, the warm water relaxing her as she tries her best to scrub every trace of her family from her skin. It took YN a lot of thinking to decide whether the entire ordeal had been worth it or not, but in the end she decided that it had been. If they wouldn’t have gone, YN didn’t know if she ever would have gotten the guts to admit that she wanted more intimate affection from the boys she loved so much.

As she stepped out of the shower and wrapped up in the towel, YN secretly hoped that Yoongi would kiss her too. She would be lying to herself if she said that she wasn’t incredibly attracted to everything about the man, but she couldn’t see herself taking that step on her own.

Securing the towel around her, YN stepped out of the ensuite and into Yoongi’s room. She found a pile of clothes on the end of the bed and Yoongi scrolling through his phone.

“I got you one of my hoodies to sleep in, baby. I know how much you like them.” Yoongi speaks without looking up from his phone, smiling to himself as YN grabs the clothes he had left for her. She changes quickly, a smile breaking onto her face when she realizes that Yoongi had gotten her her favorite pair of sleep shorts.

When she came back out of the bathroom, Yoongi had put his phone up on the nightstand and turned out the overhead light. He had the light on the nightstand on it’s lowest setting, which made her feel oddly safe in the already dark-themed room.

“I got your bunny, so you can stay here. I don’t want you out of my sight just yet.” Yoongi’s voice is deeper than usual as he stands and heads over to where YN had stopped. He could tell that she was unsure of what to do, and he was perfectly alright taking the lead.

Yoongi hands the small girl her stuffed animal, a smile gracing his face as she squeezes the thing to her chest. They had all noticed right away that she really liked to cuddle a stuffed animal when she slept, which they found to be completely adorable. Secretly, they had each made sure they had a small stuffed animal of some sort in their room for her, just in case.

“Thank you Yoongs. I-” She paused as she looked up at him with those same wide, innocent eyes. Damn, was he a sucker for those eyes of hers. “I really don’t want to sleep alone tonight.” Her voice is only just above a whisper, love and trust filling her eyes as she looks up at Yoongi.

“Kook is right, you know.” Yoongi says the words absently as he draws her into his embrace. “We would give you anything you ever wanted. You’re our darling girl, our princess, our baby, our Omega. You should have let us know you wanted more intimate affection.” He planted a soft kiss on the top of her head.

YN pulled back slightly, brow furrowed slightly in confusion as she looked up at Yoongi’s face.

“Why?” Her voice was still ever so soft, ever so innocent.

“Oh darling, you know exactly what I mean.” Yoongi moves one of his hands up to trace her jaw, ever so careful of the bruise that had formed. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since that first day when you found me in the woods.”

YN can feel her ears heat up as her lips part slightly at Yoongi’s confession, wanting nothing more than to close the distance between the two of them but being far too chicken to actually do it.

Luckily, Yoongi really could read her mind, and he took it upon himself to bring their lips together. YN felt the world around her spin and fade away as the breath was stolen from her lungs. The only thing she could think about, the only thing she could feel , was the soft pressure of Yoongi’s lips against her own.

It seems like hours before they disconnect, drawing a soft gasp from YN as Yoongi lovingly strokes the side of her face with his thumb, watching her as those eyes he loves so much flutter open. In that moment, it feels like it’s just the two of them, suspended in time and space. Yoongi feels complete as he smiles down at the girl, the love and trust so clear in her eyes it’s almost painful for him to look at.

And just like that, the silent moment is gone as YN lets out an adorable little yawn, rubbing at one of her eyes absently.

“Come on princess, let’s get you to bed. Things have been rough for you today, hm?” Yoongi moves to the side and gets into his bed, frowning when YN doesn’t really move. With a quick assessment of her thoughts, he realizes that she’s unsure because she doesn’t want to assume anything or overstep her boundaries or- well, she’s completely overthinking the entire situation.

“YN, come ‘ere. I’m not going to make you sleep alone tonight.” Yoongi makes a motion with one hand as he draws the covers back for her with the other, a soft smile gracing his face. YN runs a hand through her hair, taking short, quick steps to get to where Yoongi was.

If she was really being honest with herself, she craved nothing more than the complete, devout protection that the pack gave to her. That Yoongi gave to her. It made her feel like she was really worth something, like she was cared for in the exact same way she cared for them.

Absently, as she curled up next to Yoongi and laid her head on his chest, she thought of how most other people would have thought what Jungkook did was too much, too violent. YN couldn’t have explained to anyone why she felt the way she did, but she honestly trusted him, trusted them , more now.

They had all told her many times that they would protect her, that they would keep her safe, that nothing would ever hurt her again, but she didn’t really believe them. How could she? Sure, she knew that they had done some unsavory things in the past, but that didn’t mean that they would actually do anything for her. Why would they? She was riddled with self doubt, even if she did her best to hide it away.

As YN lay on Yoongi’s chest, listening to the slow beating of his heart in time with his deep breaths and thinking about how she felt about everything that had happened, she slipped closer and closer to sleep. By the second, her eyes were more and more heavy, the calming scent of Yoongi enveloping her completely and calming her to the point it was practically impossible for others to tell if she was asleep or awake.

Yoongi is wide awake, on the other hand, breathing softly and mulling over the day as he plays with YN’s hair. For whatever reason, it calmed him greatly to have the girl there, on his chest. He felt like he was doing what he was meant to by having the Omega so close to him. He sighed to himself, wholly unable to tell if his intense liking for the girl was due to his Alpha nature or if it was because of who she was. He wanted it to be because of her, because of who she was instead of just because of their natures, but he couldn’t be sure . After all, he had felt very similarly when Jimin and Taehyung had first come into the pack, and while he loved them both dearly, part of that affection was because they were younger Betas and he felt he needed to protect them.

Later, Yoongi would blame his thinking of the two boys on them showing up in the room, but honestly, he wasn’t mad about it. Taehyung and Jimin burst into the room like a pack of wild animals, both of them wanting to see YN for themselves.

“Yah! No! Calm down!” Yoongi hissed out as soon as he realized what was going on, anger lacing his words as he accosted the younger men “YN is resting, can’t you see that?”

The two boys stop in their tracks and sheepishly actually look at the scene before them, both of them finding the way that YN had curled up to be adorable. Jimin was the first to apologize, rocking back and forth on his feet as he put his hands behind his back, blush tinting his cheeks. Taehyung sighed as he repeated Jimin’s apology, pouting as he looked at the scene before him.

YN had one hand curled up, gripping onto Yoongi’s shirt right next to her face, the other clutched her stuffed bunny to her side. Her lips were slightly parted and her eyes were softly fluttering open. They didn’t even have to read each other’s minds to know that it was difficult for all of them not to coo at the adorable girl.

“It’s okay YN, you can sleep. It’s okay.” Yoongi ran his fingers through her hair as he spoke softly, wanting to calm her.

“Taehunie? Minie?” Her voice was laced with sleep as she mumbled out the words, barely lifting her head even as she turned it to the door. Her eyes were glassy as she looked towards where the two other boys stood.

They were in sync with each other as they both moved towards the bed, kneeling down to look YN in the face once they were to the side of the bed.

“YN-ah, baby, are you okay?” Taehyung is the one to speak first this time, one hand reaching out to touch the side of her face softly. “We wanted to see you.”

YN looks at Taehyung with those same beautifully innocent eyes, a smile creeping onto her face at his words. “I’m okay Tae. Safe.” Her words were much more clear, though she didn’t speak in a full sentence. It took them looking into her mind to realize that she meant that she felt safe with them, not some other random thing.

“It’s good you feel safe! We love you, we always want you to feel safe with us.” It’s Jimin who speaks this time, reaching a hand out and laying it on her arm as he spoke.

“Safe. Mine.” Her words are back to being half mumbles as she snuggles back into Yoongi’s chest, feeling safe. Because of their mind link, they understood that she meant that she felt safe with them and that she was glad she was with them.

The two boys at the side of the bed shift their focus to Yoongi at the same time, matching pouts on their faces.

“Hyung, can we stay?”

“Please?”

“I don’t wanna leave her.”

“Yeah Hyung, me neither.”

Yoongi puts up one of his hands to silence them, sighing deeply. He knows he’s gonna regret it, but he looks down at YN and tells them that it’s her decision if she wants them to stay or not.

“YN~” They whine at the same time, doing their best to give her perfect puppy dog eyes. “Can we stay with you, please?” YN giggles at their antics, and nods into Yoongi’s chest.

“Yeah, you can stay.” Her words were muffled because of the position of her head, but the two boys had no problems hearing her.

Jimin is the first one to climb back into the bed, quickly shimmying under the covers and wrapping his arms around YN. Taehyung climbs in directly after him, doing the same thing to Jimin that he had done to YN.

Yoongi just sighs as he looks at the three other people that had gotten into his bed, a smile on his face despite his outward annoyance. He really did love them, and if he was being completely honest with himself, having the three seek him out for comfort made his Alpha feel absolutely wonderful .

YN felt incredibly safe and happy like that, wrapped up between the three. She felt loved, cared for, wanted. Within a minute of the two boys clambering into the bed, she was completely out, sleeping peacefully.