#in all seriousness i love this. he does a lot more poetic description when he's feeling better and i think this is not just a genuine momen

[vickyvicarious]

I looked out over the beautiful expanse, bathed in soft yellow moonlight till it was almost as light as day. In the soft light the distant hills became melted, and the shadows in the valleys and gorges of velvety blackness. The mere beauty seemed to cheer me; there was peace and comfort in every breath I drew.

Jonathan Harker: "Yes I am a prisoner. Yes, my legal services are complete now. Yes, I just wrote a letter that I am fine and staying over, and therefore can I be disposed of any day now. Yes, my sleep schedule is screwed because I stay up all night with my captor and play nice.

But this shan't stop me from waxing poetic about the velvet darkness over nature and the soft moonlight!"

Jonathan: I Am Going To Seize This Moment Of Peace And Beauty And You Can't Stop Me

Dracula: wanna bet? *lizards*

[mermaidsirennikita]

ARC Review: Earls Trip by Jenny Holiday

3.5/5. Releases 4/23/2024.

Heat Index: 5/10

Vibes: romcom shenanigans, childhood friends to lovers, positive male friendships, vacations

Archie (earl), Simon (earl), and Effie (future earl) have been friends since they were young boys. And they have a tradition--Earls Trip, where they spend time together, relax, and have fun. But this year's trip gets diverted when a letter arrives, begging him to rescue his childhood friend Olive from an ill-advised elopement. Oh, and Olive's sister Clementine ran after Olive, so can he rescue her too? The trip is no longer just the earls, but a pair of girls; and Archie finds himself drawn to the grown-up Clementine, who's gone from his wild young friend to a blunt woman who refuses to marry.

As we all know, historical accuracy is not my biggest priority with historical romances. Is this book very concerned with history? Not at all. Is it a frothy, funny little story about a bunch of hapless lords dealing with ladies just CRASHING their PARTY. Yes.

Could it have been a lot more? I do think so.

I feel like this premise could've gone a lot further, and based on that and the cover (which I actually find rather cute and befitting the book, despite my general dislike of cartoon covers) I thought we'd get roadtrip romance vibes that we just didn't. In fact, while Archie and Clementine had chemistry, and their romance was cute, I think we should've leaned into the romance part a good bit sooner.

Quick Takes:

--Jenny Holiday has a really approachable, naturally funny writing style, and that's on full display here. I think it best serves the earls (well, the earls and the viscount). Their relationship was my favorite part of the book, and I don't necessarily think that's surprising or a bad thing. I love a romance, especially a historical romance, where the heroes are like "that's my brother. THAT'S MY BROTHER" [tearful manly hug].

This actually takes it a step further. Archie, Simon, and Effie are supportive and openly loving. They confide in each other. They bare their hearts to each other. Like, they have their little quirks and none of them are perfect creatures without flaw. They're funny and human. I just think these kind of friendships between men are so uncommon in fiction that it's just refreshing to see.

--You do have hijinx, right? You have an errant bullet early in the book (nobody is seriously injured--I think this is the second heroine I've read shoot the hero by accident this year?), you have phallic hedges, you have poetic drama. But while I by no means expected a Hangover-esque orgiastic trip from what was clearly a romcom.....

I don't know. Not a lot happened on the trip. Like, I get that it was supposed to be dudely bonding, but I didn't really see them... doing much... besides companionably hanging out? And I think you need more than that. I mean, there's some plot, but the pacing of the book just kind of made it feel less.

--I also think the pacing could've used some work. The official summary mentioned that Clementine asked Archie to teach her about sex, and he does... But like, in the back half of the book. It's not a big thing. It doesn't kick off the PLOT.

And I think that if it had, there would've been a lot more urgency to the story. I kind of felt like the book pulled a big "hurry up and wait".

The Sex:

So, the sex does something interesting. Again, it's kind of at odds with the description. There are a few scenes, and none of them go super far. Like, pleasure is had, but I kind of felt like the story was building up to a big wedding night scene and it... doesn't happen.

That said, I did appreciate that Clementine wasn't a virgin; she just hadn't had good sex. Archie is really sweet and weirdly friend-like during these scenes, but he's also BARELY keeping it together. One of my favorite moments of the book is when he demonstrates the "tools" men can use to give women pleasure. I just wish we'd have more of that, or at least had it earlier in the story.

While this installment wasn't a home run for me, it was fun, and I think there's potential for the series. I want to know what happens to Simon and Effie. That's half the battle, right?

Thanks to NetGalley and Kensington for providing me with a copy of this book. All thoughts and opinions are my own.

[koffeekoko]

My internet crashed and I'm not sure if you received my request. 😭 this is what I sent. Sorry if it did go though, my internet is such a jerk.

May I please request fem s/o and Koko where she wants to have a heart to heart conversation & she asks about his first love? He's worried she might feel insecure due to asking about it so he reassures her that he loves her deeply, she is her own irreplaceable person & he will always be by her side. Thank you! I adore your writing, it's so poetic.

hello darling! tysm for requesting and for sending it in a second time! otherwise i wouldn't have received your request ;w; and aww tysm for your sweet words ♡ i hope it is to your liking!

PRETTIEST GIRL

hajime kokonoi x fem!reader

genre: fluff

warnings: none!

word count: 944

what does getting into a relationship mean? is it disney worthy love stories or dramatic heart-breaking scenes? you used to catch yourself wondering about that a lot, either while watching series and the slightest romantic scene pops up, when the couple before you in line at the grocery store argue among themselves, or even when you see items at a discount price for couples during certain times.

kokonoi's given you the answer for it all, for better or worse.

you know it's not all rainbows and sunshines when you both yelled hurtful things neither of you meant at each other over the most mundane things in your day-to-day life. but you know it's not as dramatic as tv makes it seem either when he'd apologize profusely and hug you to sleep the very same day.

you know it's better than sappy romantic movies when he's seen your insecurities and kissed every single one of them more times than you can keep count for.

aware that you're not the only one he's loved before, you also know it's insecurity.

it's insecurity when he's avoiding your point whenever the topic of first loves is brought up. it's insecurity when he's vague when you'd ask about the girl he's loved before you.

you have left countless hints that you want to know about her but kokonoi avoided all of them.

every time, kokonoi would brush you off by saying 'it's not important' or 'it's in the past' and then distract you with sweet words and gestures.

tonight, you are determined to have him open up about it and have a heart-to-heart conversation with him without being led away by his sweet antics.

kokonoi sat on the couch before the tv with the controller on one hand choosing something for you both to watch while you were still busy gathering snacks from the kitchen counter.

making your way over to the living room with a bowl of popcorn and a few bags of chips, you breathe in deeply, nervous that you may forget the words that you rehearsed during the day.

"have we watched this already?" kokonoi asks as you sat down beside him.

"yeah, but let's watch it again!"

kokonoi agrees with your decision and starts the movie. he circles his right arm around your waist, pulling you flush against him.

a few minutes into the movie, you decide to speak up before he gets too into it, "koko, can we talk?"

he pauses the movie and looks at you, surprised by the seriousness laced in your tone.

"what's wrong, baby? do you not like this movie?" he asks with concern in his voice.

"that's not it," you fiddle with your shirt as you speak, "just wanted to talk.." you breathe in to regain your composure, "about your first love and all that."

kokonoi opens his mouth, to brush you off again you assume, but you stop him before he can, "i want to know all about you, and that's part of you, too, right?"

"can we talk about it? don't brush me off again, please?"

kokonoi nods and agrees to your request, "alright pretty, what do you want to know?"

you thank him with a kiss on his cheek and start by asking him to tell you about her. he tells you her name was akane. she was a few years older than him, five to be precise. she had pretty blonde hair. she was pretty and gentle, and she always commented nicely about others.

with kokonoi's description of her, you feel insecurity bubbling inside you. she was beautiful and delicate, the type any boy would fall for. it's no wonder kokonoi did, too.

kokonoi isn't dumb, he noticed the slight frown you wore on your face and how your breathing seem to turn ragged. he knows past love is a sensitive topic to talk about to current partners, the exact reason he's avoided doing so.

"did you think she was the prettiest girl?" you blurted out.

"totally," he responds without any uncertainty in his voice. an 'oh' escapes your mouth as you look away from his eyes and feel insecurity finally catch up to you.

kokonoi sighs with a smile sticking to his lips. he lifts you up slightly and shifts you onto his lap so you are now straddling him, "but that was before i met you," he says while brushing away a tear that threatens to escape from your eyes with his thumb.

he pulls your face closer to his, "right here, right now.." he presses his lips flush to yours in a reassuring kiss before he even finishes his sentence and you melt right into his lips.

he presses his forehead against yours as you both part from the kiss. "you are the prettiest girl in my eyes," he says still short on air.

your cheeks heat up and you attempt to escape his gaze by hiding in his chest.

kokonoi laughs at your reaction and rubs your back with soothing motions.

in your flustered state, you already forgot all about akane, but kokonoi still has the benefit of the doubt.

"love you so much ya know?" he whispers in your ear, you hum.

"love who you are, so don't go comparing yourself with anyone else." still hiding in his chest, you nod.

"don't go thinking i'll leave you either," he adds with false anger in his tone, "you're stuck with me, baby."

"sucks to be me" you say playfully and laughing at his words.

"yeah, sucks to be you," kokonoi says pecking your lips, "you'll have to deal with me for as long as you still want me, pretty girl."

your thoughts and comments are always appreciated!

[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed, Episode 22 part one

(Masterpost) (Other Canary Stuff) (Previous Post)

Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

Not Quite Like Old Times

We ended the previous episode in daylight, with Lan Wangji putting Wei Wuxian and swordpoint and declaring his undying love lecturing him about his lack of sword skills.

We start this episode in full night, with the two of them sitting on a roof together. Presumably they spent the missing scenes getting dinner in the mess hall, doing some laundry, and definitely not making out. Fic writers, do your thing.

Finally, FINALLY, Lan Wangji has chilled out enough to actually sit and listen to Wei Wuxian, instead of yelling at and/or physically attacking him. The Zoloft is really helping!

Wei Wuxian is indulging in romantic recollections of their first rooftop encounter. Lan Wangji, who has loved him since he first laid eyes on him and who wrote a whole song with an entire music video about their love, featuring that very same rooftop encounter, shuts him down so completely he might as well have whipped out Bichen again.

First he corrects his description of events by pointing out they were fighting, not talking, back then. Then when Wei Wuxian continues in his charming, smiley reminiscing vein, Lan Wangji says "things change, how could they stay the same" with a deep, sad, weariness.

He seems like an old man in this moment, and I feel for him, really, I do. But he's not the one who's carrying the actual essence of death around inside him. Wei Wuxian is being much more generous in this interaction than Lan Wangji is.

Wei Wuxian thanks him for not narkng to Jiang Yanli about the whole talisman/forced suicide/ghost hummer/ghost flaying thing he did back in Yiling. Like there is any way Lan Wangji would ever tell Jiang Yanli, of all people, something like that about Wei Wuxian.  He's lying to his own brother to cover for Wei Wuxian, and Wei Wuxian totally doesn't get it.

(more after the cut)

Unfortunately, there's no reason Wei Wuxian SHOULD get it, at this point; Lan Wangji has not communicated anything but disapproval to him since his return, and Wei Wuxian, despite their (apparently temporary) mental linkup in the Turtle cave, is not a mind reader.

Lan Wangji is so hurt here, and Wei Wuxian appears to ignore that, continuing to smile and laugh; he’s still sunny, still happy. Seriously, they are so tonally out of step with each other in this conversation, it's excruciating.

Lan Wangji: I’m feeling good about my tear-holding-back ability Wei Wuxian: do I look more fuckable sitting up? Or leaning back?  

But every one of these smiles is an absolute lie. This is Wei Wuxian appeasing an authority figure; baffling with bullshit and skating by on charm. This is not a young man confiding in his soulmate.

Even when the conversation shifts, and they talk seriously about what is going on with him, Wei Wuxian is barely confiding anything. He briefly acknowledges that he was in the Burial Mounds for three months, and shudders at the memory, but Lan Wangji doesn't respond to that other than to look away from his face.

This is almost the last thing Wei Wuxian will ever say to anyone about that experience.  He only alludes to it again when Jiang Cheng visits the settlement and talks smack about their corpse turnips. Lan Wangji says he wants to know why Wei Wuxian’s cultivation changed, but he really doesn’t; he just wants to convince him to change it back.

Wei Wuxian explains about using Lan clan techniques to protect his temperament, as well as the flute and talismans, to control the resentful energy. This is a good reminder that Wei Wuxian was never a bad student. He was an outstanding cultivator within the Jiang Clan, and he learned a hell of a lot during his time in Gusu, despite getting expelled for fighting.

His original golden core was stronger than Jiang Cheng's, even though he apparently started cultivating later. Yes, he fell asleep during meditation that one time in Episode 43, but that's not because he's bad at meditating, it's because he was tired from getting railed all night by his boyfriend stabbed in the gut by his nephew.

Lan Wangji eventually manages to ask him a question like an interested fellow human being sharing knowledge, instead of like an authoritarian dick calling him to account.  

Side note: I still am flopping around trying to find good-sounding English terms for Chinese philosophical concepts. I kind of like "ghost path" vs "sword path" for the two styles of cultivation - I don't know where I saw that, apologies to the translator. I like "necromancy" for the part where the dead are reanimated and controlled, because we definitely have that in English. But there are many layers of nuance in these conversations that English is not equipped to render in a natural-sounding way.

Lan Wangji tells him, again, that it's dangerous, but this time he does it in a gentler and more poetic way, saying it's like taking grain from a burning fire, and says he's in danger of becoming the novel version of Wei Wuxian a demonic cultivator.  Wei Wuxian, also gently and seriously, says he knows.

Then he immediately goes back to his lightest tone and promises, with his three-fingers gesture, that he will not fall into demonic cultivation. This gesture is basically the Wei Wuxian "I am totally fucking lying" salute.

He is totally fucking lying, and he MUST know it. He's baking the Yin tiger amulet every day during his meditation, getting ready to use it against Wen Ruohan, getting ready to take over his army of the dead.

He has the audacity to ask Lan Wangji, "do you believe me?" and Lan Wangji, also totally fucking lying, nods.  Their relationship is just as broken right now as it was before their courtyard sparring session.

You can tell it's broken, because after they've reached this apparent place of peace, Wei Wuxian just hops down off the roof and LEAVES Lan Wangji sitting by himself. When has Wei Wuxian ever been like "gotta go!" with Lan Wangji? The last time they were here, he spent the night sleeping on the roof tiles just so he could be near him.

As he leaves, Lan Wanji stands up and says "let me help you." Wei Wuxian is not a fan of that idea, at all, if his expression is any guide.

He agrees, though, and leaves smiling, apparently for real, but maybe just practicing for all the fake smiles in his future.

Hooray for War

In the morning, Nie Mingjue makes an angry speech to the 2 dozen cultivators who apparently make up the army. Extras are expensive, y'all.

The senior cultivators are standing to the right or left of him, with the Lan brothers bracketing the Yunmeng sibs. Lan Wangji and Jiang Cheng are both staking their claim to Wei Wuxian, while Lan Xichen is standing in the spot closest to Nie Mingjue; Nie Huaisang is on the opposite side with the Jins.

All of the random cultivators yell a war chant in response to Nie Mingjue's speech, while the senior cultivators are like, we don't have to do that yelling stuff, thank goodness.

Nie Mingjue's war outfit includes metal (ish) epaulets on his shoulders and a totally not-kinky belt featuring multiple rings with nothing attached to them (yet) and an angry demon face right above his junk.

Nie Mingjue says we're going to storm into Nightless city and I'm going to chop off Wen Ruohan's head! By which he means, I'm going to get captured and get my ass beat, and then my murder-babie ex-boyfriend who had this belt specially made for me is going to stab Wen Ruohan in the back while he's distracted. They do say no plan survives contact with the enemy.

Side note: Baxia makes a loud metallic "shnk" noise when NMJ takes it off his back during this speech, even though Baxia does not have a scabbard. You do you, Baxia.

All the senior cultivators file out down the center while everyone else parts to let them pass. Then everybody does the Electric Slide.

Jiang Cheng tells Wei Wuxian they should go ahead of the main force to get some killing in early, but Wei Wuxian just pulls a face and looks down, staying with Lan Wangji. 

Jiang Cheng is disappointed, and no doubt takes this as a sign of WWX choosing LWJ over him. But actually, WWX can't fight side-by-side with Jiang Cheng without showing his weakness.

LWJ and WWX exchange one of their unspoken "let's go" eye touches and get ready to ride out together with the main force. 

Lan Wangji is still super, super sad. Wei Wuxian is still fake. But something is starting to knit together between them, and once they can hit a battlefield together, it will get a lot stronger.

On A Horse With No Name

Everyone rides out on horses, which will presumably get eaten somewhere along the way, because they appear to travel on foot after this. While Wei Wuxian practices his horseback-flute-twirling, Lan Wangji asks why Wei Wuxian didn't go with the forward force to fight.

Wei Wuxian says that he has a case of the don'wannas, and Lan Wangji snarkily points out that he used to like fighting. Wei Wuxian reacts, just as he did at the end of their sword fight, with embarrassment, and doesn't answer.

Lan Wangji, sweetie. You are really not helping. 

At this point, despite their ongoing fighting, Wangxian are clearly together again. Lan Wangji isn't riding with his brother; he's RIGHT next to Wei Wuxian, and will stay close to him through the rest of the campaign.

Nie Huaisang hollers "Wei-Xiong" from the top of the battlements and tells him to take care. Wei-Xiong lifts his flute in acknowledgement while Nie Huaisang looks worried. He doesn't tell Nie Mingjue or Lan Wangji to take care, just Wei Wuxian. Wei Wuxian is his particular friend, more than Lan Wangji is, but he may also be concerned because he can tell that Wei Wuxian isn't well.

Nie Huaisang hasn't yet developed the deep cynicism that he calls upon in his quest to avenge his brother, but he has always been a voracious collector of information, and he is keenly observant.

Side note: what the fuck is going on with this sculpture? Kudos to the artist. This has beautiful forms, and is weird and disturbing. The main head is wearing a horned skull on its forehead, small ungulates that I hesitate to call “deer” chilling on its horns, and...snakes? biting its ears? 

Boring Wen Interlude

Wen Ruohan is waving his hands around. Sigh. This is one of the more boring villain performances ever, and it's not the actor’s fault. They could have given him a sidekick to yell at or something, so we could get more than just hand waving. I’ve given up screen capping any of this; there are more interesting things to look at. 

Battle Moves

Jin Zixuan and Jiang Cheng and their forces have an extended fight scene with a bunch of puppet dudes and stuntmen in harnesses. 

It's pretty fun to watch. (Fanvid with more over here)

The gist of the fighting scenes is that Wen Ruohan is getting stronger, and Klingons are hard to beat.

Battle Planning

Finally we see a sidekick with Wen Ruohan, although he's blurry so it's hard to tell that he is totally Meng Yao.

The Sunshotters have set up a Battle Camp Playset. It's got chunks of gates and walls that don't connect to anything, like a Duplo set. It's just randomly open for most of the back area so that anyone can walk in. 

They've got a cage of hilarious definitely-not-zombies set up, and the rest of the wounded cultivators are lying on the ground. 

The main battle trio go chill in Nie Mingjue's incredibly fancy tent. They talk it over and say it's impossible to kill unkillable enemies, "even when we have millions of troops." And by “millions” they mean “dozens.”  

Nie Mingjue decides the way to handle it is to kill the leader and everyone else will collapse, because he has watched vampire movies and the last season of Game of Thrones and that's how it works. Watching the last season of Game of Thrones is why he is so angry all the time  He says he's going to sneak into Nightless City and assassinate Wen Ruohan.

Okay, first of all, Nie Mingjue can sneak? I don't believe it.  Second of all, if that was possible, why didn't he do it as soon as Wen Ruohan attacked his clan?

Nie Mingjue wants to take the biggest risk because he's the commander in chief, which is not how commanding is supposed to work, but okay.

He says if he dies, Zewu Jun will take over. Jiang Cheng starts to protest but Zewu Jun appears as if conjured, and shows them a map that will...dear GOD his hands are beautiful.

It's a helpful map, painted in multiple colors with careful writing on it, so if anyone were to show it to Nie Huaisang he would probably go "oh cool Meng Yao painted that" because anyone who could paint that well probably spent a fair amount of time at it on a regular basis. But, Nie Huaisang isn't here so, nope.

It’s always nice to see Jiang Cheng smile.

Wei Wuxian and Lan Waniji examine some of the puppets to see what's up. It's transmitted by touch, and Lan Wangji says that curing one dude takes three months of spiritual power. Ain’t nobody got time for that.

Writing Prompt: Missing scene! How did they get from the fight in the courtyard to the talk on the roof? 

Soundtrack: 1. Shine on You Crazy Diamond, by Pink Floyd 2. Electric Boogie, by Marcia Griffiths

[seyaryminamoto]

my school works are piled up this past few weeks (graduating tingz) and i just started reading the deadlock novel it feels like i'm reading a sokkla fic every time Mcashe has a scene because they just give off the vibes skskskskksksks. BTW, what's your top5 fav scenes from the novel? PS: I'm smiling like an idiot while reading the novel ughh i hate myself

I KNOW, RIIIIIGHT?! *-* and don't hate yourself, my anon friend, I spent the whole novel smiling and laughing and losing my goddamn mind because I was having the time of my life xD enjoy this beautiful content as best you can!

I mean, frankly, Reunion already had all the Sokkla vibes I could've wanted/needed to ship these two like FedEx and I always knew I wasn't getting off this ride anytime soon. But gosh, this book... it gave me everything I wanted and MORE! Their dynamics are soooo similar to Sokkla team-up dynamics, two power couples kicking ass and taking names... oh, I just love it so much. I probably will end up reading the book a third time soon x'D

As for my favorite scenes, damn, this is tricky xD

KEYCHAIN! HE MADE HER KEYCHAIN!! THIS IS NOT A DRILL!!! God, it's just amazing how the book explains the "vintage" look for Ashe's hoverbike the way it does, and that they literally built it together *screams!!!*, but then he gives her that keychain for her birthday present, and the implications!! THE IMPLICATIONS!!! He gave her a keychain she's held onto for TWENTY YEARS?!?!?! Ships in the OW fandom have sailed far and wide with less than breadcrumbs: we literally have been granted a boon from the GODS with all this extra context for the little things in Reunion xD

Ashe going to hell and back to save her kidnapped BFF-for-whom-she-totally-doesn't-have-feelings-yeah-yeah-sure-Jan. I love the fact that McCree is, in a way, Ashe's damsel in distress and not the other way around xD Of course, it's what you'd expect from an Ashe-centric story, but it's still an amazing sequence, all around. Gotta highlight how she loves the way he smiles like a madman when they have that shootout at the end, and how he worries so much over Ashe's injury when he took an even worse one than she did (the Sokkla vibes in that particular situation were SO STRONG! I SWEAR!).

"Jesse McCree, are you trying to make me say you're handsome?" "Am I?" ... do I need to say more. That FLIRTING. These two were on fire already and they'd only known each other for like... weeks, at this point? x'D He has no sense of moderation, he's soooo into her and doesn't hide it at all. Ashe is so busy trying to plot all the crime and Jesse's practically like a shojo heroine, "oh I can feel it, this is how my love story begins!", basically xD

Finally I pick a not-McAshe scene... to bring up the one where Ashe picks up the Viper on her last moment in Lead Rose Manor. That moment was just... POWERFUL. The feeling of epicness in that scene just overwhelmed me when I was reading it xD

The ending of the book :'D the fully formed Deadlock Gang ready for business, down to the explanation for the Est. 1976 in the logo... *sobs* the fact that so much about the character design choices in these two characters is a shoutout to the past they share is just... *gross sobbing* oh, I just love it to pieces, I'm not even sorry.

Ashe's bike race to save B.O.B. x'D that whole situation was bonkers but I looooved how fierce she was about protecting her one and only buddy while growing up (AND THAT JESSE BLUSHED WHEN SHE TAUNTED HIM WAS JUST THE CHERRY ON TOP!). I appreciated learning more about the Omnic War and its consequences, how Ashe reflects on having escaped it practically untouched in virtue of her money and societal privilege while her new friends all faced many hardships to survive. But I can't help but also love that, however uneasy others could have been about the Best Omnic Butler, Ashe was so fiercely loyal to B.O.B. that she nearly broke Julian's nose herself over his ridiculousness x'D That's HER big omnic buddy and she's not about to lose him to anyone, not her shitty parents, not a bet in a race, NOTHING! (and it's so cute that B.O.B. is just as loyal to her, too *sobs*)

Ashe grabbing McCree's arm to explain things to him on their first heist and him being all "you gonna leave that there?" and only then does she realize her hand's still on him x'D what a McCree line, and he was absolutely enjoying the attention, he doesn't even pretend otherwise.

Everything poetic McCree says or does... meanwhile Ashe's like "um yeah I don't care about poetry I want money", right until his poet soul totally smashes her square in the heart with the KEYCHAIN!!! But damn, I swear I thought McCree would hold back a lot more, and yet there he was, saying things like Calamity was brilliant and mysterious... you could practically hear B.O.B., Julian and Frankie going "I can see what's happening..." in the background xD

The conversation about what they wanted to do once they were loaded with all the cash they could possibly want. That one was a real number on my heartstrings. It ties up to what I said earlier with Ashe finally being in touch with people who are completely removed from the ridiculous social circles of her parents and her school, people who really lost a lot in the war. But where Julian and Frankie seem to look at the past a lot, I loved that Jesse is basically just thinking about the future. The fact that he says he wants to chill out in a farm and that this is what he wants in life... many, MANY, shippy wheels have turned in my head since I read that <.< maaaany...

WHEN JESSE NEARLY FALLS AND ASHE CATCHES HIM!!! UNDERRRATED AS HECK!!! The fact that he's taunting her about fear of heights, then he nearly plummets to his death because ironies are beautiful xD and Ashe pulls him back to safety only to say that she's not afraid of heights but afraid of ~FALLING~??? I mean, okay, sure, maybe I'm reading too much into that line... or maybe I'm not <.< either way, the truth is I just love how absolutely broad of interpretation that scene and that DIALOGUE are :> ehehehe.

Oh, their first encounter. The fact that it's so cute and fun, and that it's this low in the list tells you how GOOD this book was x'D "You've got an awful lot of grit for a rich girl," first words he spoke to the love of his life xD then how they talked and laughed together about the crazy stories he shared (she was crying of laughter for the first time in her life! precious girl!), and then how she sat in the car thinking about the strange feeling she was left with after meeting him... they seriously had a meetcute in prison, how can a ship get any better? xD

WHEN HE COMES BACK TO HER WHEN THEIR FIRST HEIST GOES WRONG!!! That Ashe expects him to just leave after she falls off their getaway vehicle, but Jesse saves her and goes "pfft that's just not my style", basically... *sobs* without realizing it she ends up picking up that particular philosophy of his, saving her friends no matter the cost...! Honestly, though, the fact that every time something like this happens it hits Ashe like a truck racing downhill with no brakes because she's NEVER been cared about by anyone but B.O.B. and she's completely new to friendships and bonding with people... and in the mean time, Jesse immediately is "ride or die" with her because that's how he rolls... beautiful relationship dynamics between characters who influence each other for the better are just beautiful :')

A silly one here: Jesse enjoying the good life in Lead Rose. That description of him looking like a marshmallow in the CHAISE LOUNGEEEEE!!! (the one he references in their in-game interactions *CRYING SO MANY TEARS*), was just too cute to bear x'D Ashe just jumping back into work mode... while he was just thrilled to be a marshmallow in a towel xD

... So, um, I went overboard because I love this book a little too much for my own good :> what can I say? When things I love are good, I go wild xD There's probably more scenes I loved, but these... thirteen? XD are the ones that came to mind.

I think one of my favorite things now is reexamining Reunion with all this extra context in mind. The first time I watched that cinematic I, of course, fell in love with these two outlaws because how could I not? But while subsequent rewatches revealed a lot of things I didn't pay enough attention to the first time around, the book has done even more than I could imagine possible for a short that was already as shippy as could be xD

Ooookay so, shippy ramblings about Reunion, coming up! (simply because I have to put these down SOMEWHERE XD and your ask was a good idea for that, anon!)

First off, Jesse very much staged the whole rodeo in Reunion. He sent the tip to Ashe, he wanted Echo's crate specifically. He thought they could work together, basically, despite knowing it was entirely possible that those hopes wouldn't pay off. This train, according to the wikia, was a government train, so Jesse is very much telling Ashe to give a finger to the government for all he cares, all he wants is one (1) crate.

Ergo, Jesse, for all his "nice guy bountyhunter" deal, doesn't disapprove of Deadlock's actions. If anything, he counts on them to be exactly what he needs in order to get what he wants. He practically trusts Ashe to pull off the train heist disaster perfectly and only steps up when it's time to collect Echo.

Then the wacky shoot-out happens, it's veeeery charged (the UST is so thick, I swear...), and Jesse wins. He ties up Ashe, floats her off on the payload with the rest of the gang, and he sets Echo free. He's helping her out very nicely and everything, but the context in question is... he received the recall notification thingy XD Winston called him back to Overwatch, and Jesse...

... Jesse doesn't want to go back.

Jesse says "they want me", and the displeased tone of his voice, paired with the look on his face when he says that line, speak for themselves.

That, in my humble opinion, isn't the sequence of expressions you'd expect from someone who intends to return to the group where he thrived, had the time of his life and found his true calling. To me, he actually looks irritated about the recall (the sequence of expressions during that line is much better when you watch the full thing x'D), as though he REALLY doesn't want to return. He's not against Overwatch, I'm not quite saying that, otherwise he wouldn't have set Echo free and told her to go back at all... but this isn't remorse. It's not "Oh, I'm not good enough for Overwatch anymore". Nope... this is "My time with them is over and I don't plan on going back unless I have no choice", as far as I can tell.

If OW2 does bring him back into the fold and he's a perfectly chill and happy guy about it, I'll seriously be surprised. I mean, he could have set Echo free and, once his business is over, returned to Overwatch with her, he could have been in the Paris cinematic if he'd done that...

But he's not there.

Which outright says he didn't do that :> oops.

Basically, I think Jesse's reaction in Retribution (where he's markedly the most morally correct one of the bunch, and he's the former outlaw :'D) tells you his displeasure with Overwatch ran very, very deep. And someone can very easily say he felt the same way about Deadlock and that's why he left them for Overwatch... but that's conjecture. His displeasure with Blackwatch (and, in consequence, Overwatch), however, is FACT. And the previous conjecture falls flat pretty quickly considering he's perfectly fine with Ashe's train heist, even sets it up himself, from what the story suggests, so... how ~appalled~ was he over her choices and actions? Not appalled at all, if you ask me, and after you read Deadlock Rebels, you actually understand why: Jesse trusts Ashe.

From the first moment she enters the same prison block he's in, he's drawn to her. He wants to impress her, he absolutely enjoys her company and making her laugh (just as much as she enjoyed laughing at his wacky stories), and he's plain thrilled that she comes back for him when she does. Ashe manages the gang with inexperience but she's always willing to improve, and you see Jesse sticking with her through thick and thin, supporting her at the best and worst times alike, always putting his faith on her and constantly watching out for her (he protected and shielded her from attacks with his own body sooooo many times *sobs*). Ashe starts out intending to keep most profits for herself, and Jesse doesn't care much at first... but then she starts to share profit equally between their team. She works on her own bike herself, her own ride, and she plans and solves problems as best she can, to a point of even going overboard with planning too much. She's wild, reckless and takes insane risks... and this guy loves every second of it. The matter of morality regarding the actions of a criminal gang is, of course, something to think about... but as far as the book goes, Ashe mainly targets her own family, their specific brand of bullshit, and in the process she ends up helping lots of people and even saving lives that might not have been saved otherwise. I'm not going to put my hand on the fire here and say Deadlock never ever did anything absolutely wrong to people who didn't deserve it... but for a criminal gang? They're honestly the most wholesome one the OW team could have come up with, if you ask me.

So where you see Jesse is very much antagonistic with Reaper/Reyes, where he loses his temper with the guy's choices, he doesn't ever do that with Ashe. Overwatch ARE supposed to be the good guys... so how weird that Jesse McCree, reformed outlaw, ends up so disappointed with these guys when he was actually thrilled with Ashe's managing of their gang, as far as we saw. So much so that, when it came down to it, Jesse McCree, 20 years later, still counts on Ashe to give him a hand (without her full awareness) with a little operation to help out an old friend of his. Also worth pointing out: he doesn't want to fight at all, while Ashe, of course, does. Deadlock for life, is what Jesse said... and he's not Deadlock anymore, hasn't been for who knows how long. Worse yet... his tattooed arm is gone. It's like all his ties to Deadlock have been severed.

And even so, he came to Ashe and hoped she wouldn't want a shootout with him. Even when he knows she might be beyond unforgiving because of the betrayal (he has seen directly how outraged she was about a certain someone betraying her in the book...), Jesse goes back anyway and hopes it won't come to this.

THE IMPLICATIONS, MAN!!!

Carrying on: Echo is surprised that Jesse shows no intentions of going back to Overwatch. She asks him what he's going to do... and what does Jesse say?

He puts his cowboy hat back on (the symbolism in this short, I swear...), and when she asks him what he's going to do, he tells her "I've got some business to attend to."

THE MUSIC PICKS UP.

AND THEN HE CLIMBS ON THE BIKE HE BUILT WITH ASHE.

YOU GET A DELIBERATE CLOSE-UP TO THE KEYCHAIN.

THEN THE CAMERA PANS UP TO FOCUS ON THE PICTURE, TORN AND TAPED BACK TOGETHER, THAT ASHE CARRIES ON THIS BIKE, A BIKE WHICH, LET'S BE REAL, IS BASICALLY A MCASHE BABY CHOPPER/HOVERBIKE HYBRID, AND AS SHE PUTS IT LATER, IS...

HER

BIKE!!!

When Jesse says he has business to attend to, he could pick up any bike he wants (since it'd stand to reason that the other guys Ashe came in with would have bikes of their own). He could escape on horseback for all we know xD so there are lots of options... but no. He takes HERS. Right after saying he has "business to attend to".

Look, I could be wrong. I could be dead wrong. I can absolutely be digging around and going INSANE because nothing I ship EVER gets this much content.

But we literally get a guy saying he has "business" to take care of, and the cinematic focuses exclusively on elements that, even BEFORE Deadlock Rebels, all point towards Ashe?! You could easily say that taking her bike is just the final nail on the coffin, his last trolling idea to mess with his one true love... but that picture is right there. That picture, with them in their youth. The picture, btw, was bigger than just them: B.O.B.'s hand is there. The top of the picture is uneven, suggesting Ashe probably tore it to shreds in a fit of rage... and then specifically put together THEIR PART. And then she taped that to her bike's dashboard. Meaning, she carries the goddamn memory of Jesse with her EVERYWHERE SHE GOES. And she does it WILLINGLY.

Which, in turn, answers why Jesse expects MAYBE Ashe wouldn't go full-on hostile when they meet: this trolling cowboy knows exactly what he means to Ashe. He's not surprised when he sees that picture on the bike. He doesn't toss it away, which he could have, if he were saying "we are history now, forget it gurl" (and let's be honest, what a dick move that would have been @_@), he doesn't flinch after noticing and then goes "yeah, no, I'm picking another bike".

NOPE. The familiarity with which they talk, the way he hopes she'll just let him walk away, the fact that she DIDN'T change the keychain and bike in all those years and he's not even SURPRISED...

Jesse knows how much she loves him, point-blank. He's completely aware of it... and he's very much okay with it.

So much so... that I'm something of a 90% sure that the business he intends to deal with is ASHE HERSELF.

And no, I don't mean he's going to go on another shootout with her... I mean, evidently, that Jesse wants to come home. That he's tried the life of Overwatch, and he's decided to leave it behind. He's turned bountyhunter now, vigilante, pretty much... but he comes back to Ashe all the same. He's come back for the first time in who knows how long (going by Ashe's expressions and sarcasm with the "you promised you'd write" line, it miiiiiiight be they haven't seen each other since he got recruited into Blackwatch), and he expected a peaceful encounter, no less.

A good question to ask here is... what did Jesse hope would happen, if the encounter HAD been peaceful? He would've released Echo, sent her away to her business, and stayed behind anyway because he had business to deal with. Which business? :'D why... the business that would've been standing right in front of him.

There's no other, logical reason why this cinematic would put Ashe and McCree's picture into focus right when McCree says what he does to Echo. There's no other reasonable choice why McCree would turn his back on Overwatch quite so firmly. We know he had two important ties in his life: Overwatch and Deadlock. And Overwatch stole him away from Deadlock for a VERY long time. Well over half the time Deadlock has been in operations, as far as I can tell. He picked Overwatch over Deadlock once before... and now, it seems he's picking Deadlock over Overwatch instead :')

The follow-up short, Roadtrip, doesn't do anything to change my mind. The trolling jerk, Jesse McCree, hovers past Ashe's payload, where she's just... complaining, as she hovers xD going by what I know of the game and that map, the payload may just be en route to the gang's hideout, so that, I'd say, could explain why she hasn't climbed off it or escaped in any way (which she reasonably would have, if Jesse was trying to, I don't know, send her and her people to the authorities).

My point here is, however, that Jesse is headed the same way the payload is. If his destination is the same one, he'll beat it there for sure. Maybe, yes, he'll go away and drive well past the hideout... but maybe that's exactly where he intended to go.

Maybe, in the end, Reunion is about a man who's finally coming home :D

In addition, goes without saying, Ashe's rant about how everyone falls to pieces over Jesse showing his "stupid mug" (uh-huh, stupid, ANGELIC mug, we know what you really think, girl xD) ends with her saying she should have "put a bullet in him the minute he showed up".

Which begs the question of why didn't she.

Then, of course, she says she hates McCree when he drives past her while listening to some really ridiculous honky-tonky-sounding music x'D I cannot even help but imagine him deliberately picking that radio station or whatever it was just to annoy Ashe when he drove beside her, and so that she can get extra pissed when she retrieves her beloved bike, turns on the music and it's just more honky-tonky stuff x'D but anyway, the thing is she shouts after him, tells him that's her bike and says she hates him. B.O.B. wordlessly speaks for us McAshe shippers by giving Ashe the most "sure, Jan" side-eye in the history of side-eyes, and Ashe notices and is outraged enough to knock B.O.B.'s little hat right off his head again.

Again... this is renowned outlaw Elizabeth Caledonia "Calamity" Ashe, sitting on a payload, groaning about the guy she once very much had feelings for (and that doesn't even begin to cut it, if you ask me x'D) and for whom she tooooootally doesn't anymore, that picture on her bike doesn't MEAN that, OBVIOUSLYYYY!!, and so, she sits up, complains and doesn't do much of anything to get out of her current situation, right? :>

So, summing up my current understanding of EVERYTHING, thanks to Deadlock Rebels and my obsessive rewatches of Reunion + Roadtrip:

Jesse deliberately sought out Ashe so she would indirectly, unknowingly, help him set Echo free from the government's clutches.

Jesse hoped for a peaceful encounter despite knowing he might not get one.

Jesse has no intentions of returning to Overwatch but was willing to perform one final act of service for them by releasing Echo so she'd go give Winston and co. a hand.

Jesse is NOT surprised to see that Ashe: 1. Didn't change bikes at some point in the twenty years since they built it. 2. Didn't swap the ignition key for a button, the way she says she thought to do it in the novel until he gives her the keychain. 3. KEPT THE POETIC AF KEYCHAIN, despite resenting Jesse for his betrayal. 4. KEEPS A PICTURE OF THEM IN THEIR YOUNGER YEARS PASTED ON HER BIKE'S DASHBOARD.

Jesse claims he has business to deal with: he doesn't clarify said business verbally, but every shot after he says those words focuses on elements related to Ashe... and then, along with the novel's context, it's elements related to their BOND. Everything in that shot, EVERYTHING, is connected to the two of them. Elements that weren't shown before or during their shootout, and that are only introduced in that final moment when McCree is off to deal with his "business".

Ashe doesn't climb off the payload or stops it (which, going by how McCree simply pressed a button, and Ashe isn't immobilized in the least, she easily could have done it too if she had wanted to). Suggesting that, wherever the payload is heading, it isn't anywhere dangerous for Ashe and her crew, ergo, she is 100% sure McCree isn't trying to screw her over by turning her in to the authorities or so (or, at worst, she's completely confident that, even if he is going to do this, she'll be able to get out of it easily).

Jesse drives in the same direction the payload is headed. Another hint that suggests he might intend to head to the Deadlock hideout and that, whatever business he has left to deal with, it involves them.

If his intent ISN'T to go to the hideout... Jesse is still guaranteeing that Ashe will come after him by stealing her bike, the 18th birthday gift he gave her, and the picture she keeps of them. That he takes that very bike practically serves as painting a target on his back for her to hunt down, and he KNOWS IT.

In short: Jesse will have plenty of business with the Deadlock Gang in his future, and going by how pleased he seems to be when riding the bike, he's perfectly happy to handle that business on his terms, whenever he wants to handle it.

Extra tidbit: there's nothing in Deadlock Rebels about Jesse's smoking habit, something he definitely did pick up at some point while in the gang because, hahaha, he IS smoking in the picture Ashe keeps of him :> Which makes me wonder why, of all pictures Ashe chooses to keep on her bike's dashboard, she picks one where he's smoking.

Then, it makes me wonder about the fact that Jesse deliberately starts smoking when he's standing right in front of her (and then he winks at her!). He tosses that cigar after things get kind of dangerous for him because B.O.B. does something, and then... then he goes back to smoking.

RIGHT WHEN HE'S CLIMBING ON THE BIKE.

Like... seriously...

*unintelligible fangirl screaming*

I could be looking too deeply into this. I know I could be. Maybe Blizzard just wants me to go CRAZY with little symbolism and hints charged with SO MUCH MEANING that maybe don't have as much meaning as I thought it did...

... But man, I've sailed into the depths of the shippiest oceans for many ships that have gotten actual breadcrumbs from canon. I've gone wild over ships that have zero opportunity to become a thing in canon continuity. I've written a nearly 3M words story based on a ship that is just UNEXPLORED AMAZING POTENTIAL and ngl, I love exploring it myself, so I don't even begrudge canon that much for not giving it to me anymore.

But the fact is, no ship in OW, as far as I've seen, has remotely as much content, hints and strong ties as McAshe does -- at least, no ships between heroes. We had a cinematic that was CHARGED with significance, with little gestures, with even the smallest facial expressions that carried soooo much more meaning than whole episodes or even seasons in TV shows. And then? We got a novel. A full novel depicting their origins and exploring their dynamics, how tight their friendship was, and how some strong feelings were certainly brewing there, even if neither one was ready to act on them yet (as far as we saw...).

Finally... I'll say I did start working on a Sokkla Western AU ages ago because the idea I had for one was pretty amusing. Then Reunion dropped, and I said "Why would I need to finish that story anymore when the Sokkla Western AU is RIGHT HERE?!"

And that's it, I will stop rambling now because this got insanely long x'D but thank you very very much for giving me this chance to go WILD on everything I can see, within all those canon hints, with these two *-*

[alicanta77]

Chapter 1: Tomorrow Never Dies

Pairing: y/n x Jeno

Themes: mutant au, angst, fluff

Warnings: mind control, experiments performed on people, needles, violence, minor character death, blood, descriptions of injury, swearing

Words: 14k

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Finale

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The repetitive high pitched beeping drew you out of your heavy sleep. You winced as the ceiling light switched on automatically, the brightness glaring down at you. You heard a groan from your roommate, signalling that he was also awake. You lay there for a second, your eyes trying to adjust, before pulling yourself up into a sitting position.

You turned your head towards the boy on your left, wincing once again as your neck cracked loudly. His eyes moved towards you, one eyebrow raised questioningly.

‘Lab last night?’ He asked, the three words asking the question that all of you dreaded.

Did they take you into the lab last night? Did they experiment on you? What did they do to you? What do you remember? Do you remember anything?

‘Yep.’ You muttered. ‘Routine 2b.’

It was Jeno’s turn to wince at your revelation. He knew that 2b was a painful routine that they could put you through, involving a lot of needles and a heavy focus on your neck.

You simply let out a dry chuckle and shrugged, a short yet sharp pain shooting through your neck and upper back as you did so.

‘Still feeling it?’ He asked again, clearly noticing your obvious discomfort.

‘How could you tell?’ You gave him a small smile, a sad but familiar one that was always exchanged between the two of you the morning after a visit to the lab.

The door of your cell buzzed, signalling that it was open, and in walked a single guard. He was wearing protective gear from head to toe, from thick boots, to a bullet proof vest, to his gloves, all the way to the helmet covering his face. You never knew who was behind all the gear, having never seen the face of a single guard in this facility for as long as you’d been here. The pistol strapped to his boot, or the knife at his side, or even the machine gun across his back probably should have scared you, but when that’s all you’ve known, you don’t see anything wrong with it.

Besides, you’re only in this facility to protect the outside world from dangers like you. The facility you’re in holds some of the most dangerous people in the world. The upper levels of the facility held criminals, each getting more threatening as you ventured down through the floors of the building. Those arrested for petty theft or vandalism were kept at the top, then the serial killers and mass murders were contained one floor above the bottom. You were kept in the most secured sub basement section of the facility. The lowest possible layer. You were watched at all time by guards and cameras, taken into labs for tests and experiments. Doctors would perform these on you, taking samples and notes, figuring out how to help you control yourselves.

The sub section you were kept in held around 150 people, most of them teenagers and young adults like you. You were different, called mutants of some kind. That was the closest you had ever come to an actual answer about what you were. What you did know was that you had abilities, something that the average human didn’t have, and that was what made you dangerous. Out of all the years you had been here, you had only managed to figure out a few other subject’s abilities. The seven other boys you shared your area with, to be exact.

You first found out about your roommate, Lee Jeno, subject A7, weather manipulation. He could create a storm by narrowing his eyes or make the sun shine brighter by simply smiling. His abilities were often affected by his emotions. The happier he was, the easier it was to create a sunny environment, but when he was angry or frustrated, he often found it difficult to control the storm that started brewing. There was something oddly poetic about his abilities though. This thought occurred to you the one and only time you saw him cry. To this day, you still have no idea what happened to break his heart like that, but, you watched one day as the guard pulled him aside and delivered some news. The next thing you knew, Jeno had collapsed to the ground, sobs tearing from his chest. Even though you were inside, rain droplets started to fall on your head. It was as if the sky had decided to cry with him. 

There was Mark Lee, subject A3, healing and super speed. Apparently it’s incredibly rare to have more than one ability. That’s why they call Mark Lee the ‘Golden Boy’. He often finds the world running at a pace that was too slow for him, his naturally faster system getting bored easily. He would spend some time running laps around the training room faster than you could blink. His healing skill is the one he has most trouble with. It doesn’t come as easily to him as his speed does. Instead, he has to learn it. Without thinking much, he can mend cuts and fade bruises, and, when he really focuses, he finds a way to stop serious pain or bleeding, and often pulls the body back together slightly.

Next, Huang Renjun, subject D9, image manipulation. He is the hardest to get a read on. You often can’t tell if he’s really in front of you, or if it’s simply just an image of him. He can make you see anything he wants you to see. Whether that is an empty training room when there’s actually ten people in there, or if it’s suddenly transporting you to a beach in the Caribbean. He seems to have the most control over his abilities out of all of you. Focusing now on making multiple people see what he wants them to, rather than just an individual.

After him, Lee Donghyuck, subject B5, he sees the future. No one knows how much he can see or how accurate it is, but he always know more than you do. You often think that he knows a lot more than he’s letting on. He likes to use his ability for trivial things, like telling people what’s for lunch or what to expect in training today. He has a much more serious and caring side to him though. You suspect that he uses his ability to keep an eye on your emotions as somehow, he always seems to know when you’re having a bad day.

Also, Na Jaemin, subject D2, mind control. Sweet as sugar but just as artificial, he could send you the deadliest smile, all while secretly enticing you into doing something for him. Normally it’s nothing drastic, fetching his lunch for him or asking a guard the question he doesn’t want to. But you never know when he’ll get bored of that and make you do something you really don’t want to. You always make sure to keep him on your good side. Similar to Donghyuck, no one really knows the true extent of his powers, making him even more mysterious. Even the guards seem nervous of him because you can never quite tell when he’s enchanting you, not until it’s too late.

Then comes Zhong Chenle, subject C6, a shapeshifter. Can transform easily if he’s looking at the animal, harder if he has to remember it and really has to focus if he wants to take on the form of another human. He always seems to be in a good mood. How he manages that you have no idea, but you’re always thankful. He takes the whole situation less seriously than the others. Choosing to randomly turn into birds and fly into the guards helmets or run up their legs as a mouse. No matter what, he always manages to make you laugh. 

And finally, Park Jisung, subject D4, super strength. Not exactly what you would expect the boy to have, considering his personality. He seems too sweet for this reality. He always wants the best for people and sees the good in everyone. Sometimes, you wish that you could have that mindset. He’s such a pure soul that you often forget he could squish you in between his fingers like a fly if you weren’t careful. He constantly seemed to forget that he was incredibly strong, often banging the table when laughing and knocking off a leg, or clapping Hyuck on the back and sending him sprawling to the floor. He was a bit clumsy but had a heart of gold.

Rounding out the floor, there was you, subject A1, telekinesis. You could move a glass simply by looking at it, pick something up by blinking or shake your head and watch the overhead lights swing. If you focused hard you could lift or move heavier things, but moving people took almost all of your energy. Like Jeno, your emotions affect how powerful you were. Unlike with Renjun and Chenle who seem to lose control the angrier or more emotional or worked up they get, with Renjun’s images flickering and Chenle shifting uncontrollably from animal to animal, you and Jeno seem to be able to do more. Jeno could make a thunder storm powerful enough to blow the windows out by clenching his jaw and you could lift impossibly heavy objects and even throw them. Pushing people to the side also only took a slight flick of your hand. Sometimes your powers scared yourself. What would you do if one day you lost control and hurt someone you loved? If you were already dangerous enough to be locked in a facility like this, what would that make you? You would be worse than a monster.

As well as sharing the same floor with you, you also shared the same training room and dining hall. You even shared the same lab. It terrified you every time you walked into or past it and got a glimpse of the blood coating the doctor’s hands from their previous procedures.

The guard back out of your doorway, keeping an eye on the two of you at all times. You tilted your head to the left slightly, narrowing your eyes at him, watching as the guard’s moves sped up. He tripped over his own feet slightly in a bid to leave the room as fast as possible, causing both you and Jeno to burst out laughing when the door was shut.

‘You really have to stop doing that. It’s mean.’ Jeno lightly scolded you, the smile still present on his face.

‘Oh please, I am nowhere near as bad as Chenle. You know, Jisung told me that the last time the guard went into their room, Chenle had hidden himself as a moth under the bed, and then dropped in front of the poor guard and turned himself into a bear.’ You recited the story of yesterday morning to Jeno’s disbelieving face. ‘It’s true! Besides, at least we get to wake up to a smile on our faces.’

‘Yeah, you have a point.’ He paused for a second before giggling again. ‘Chenle is ruthless.’

You couldn’t help but laugh as well, treasuring the rare moments like this. Moments where everything seemed ok, seemed normal, and you could enjoy life and laugh with friends as if nothing else was wrong. However, those moments only ever last a few seconds.

The speakers in your room buzzed to life as a voice cracked through them.

‘All subjects to the rose room in five minutes. All subjects to the rose room in five minutes.’

You both looked at each other and sighed, before climbing out of your beds and grabbing the clothes provided. The guards come in every morning to drop them off. A simple grey jumpsuit, that was all you wore, everyday. You grabbed yours and headed into the bathroom to change. You pulled it on and spared yourself a short look in the mirror. The dark bags around your eyes were prominent, as were the small red dots on your neck. The only traces of what you went through the previous night. You rubbed them, trying to soften the aching before turning to leave the bathroom.

You knocked on the door, waiting for a shout from Jeno to say that it was okay for you to come out, before exiting. Together you waited for the trademark low pitched buzz that signalled your cell door being unlocked, and headed out into the hallway.

As you left you spotted the doctor waiting by your door. The other cells on your floor made the same low pitched buzz, and, gradually, out walked the other six boys. There were doctors positioned by each door, prepared with an injection. You received it every day, a numbing agent, that dulled your abilities for a period of time. It was given to you in the morning, allowing you to do your work and have lunch before it wore off and you went to your training sessions. 

The doctor extended a gloved hand to you, silently asking for your arm. You handed it to her and she rolled up your sleeve. She turned over your wrist and held you by the elbow as she positioned the syringe just below the joint.

The syringe wasn’t the kind they used in the labs. It wasn’t glass with a long metal needle on one end, it was thicker, something that had to be properly gripped with a button on the top to administer whatever was inside.

The doctor gave you no warning before she pushed the button and you winced as the machine let out a hiss, injecting the blue serum into you. You watched as she held out a hand to Jeno and repeated the same procedure. You blinked slowly a few times, the effects of the drug already taking hold.

‘Make your way to the rose room. Now.’ A guard to your left barked.

You turned robotically, your mind fuzzy and clouded. You began the journey to the rose room, your entire being occupied with the simple task of getting there. You had no thought process, no questions running around your mind, you weren’t thinking of anything. You just did what you were told.

You walked down with Jeno by your side, the white walls and floors passing you by with every step you took. You vaguely registered Jaemin joining you in your peripheral vision, but you didn’t turn to look at him. You kept your head straight, your face emotionless and your mouth shut. None of you looked at each other, none of you looked anywhere but straight ahead, and none of you uttered a word. None of you gave an inclination that you were more that walking robots, fully compliant and prepared to carry out any instruction given.

Because, in reality, under this drug, that was all that you were reduced to. You just didn’t realise the danger of that yet.

---

The door to the rose room was already open when you arrived, a guard standing there holding it for you. You didn’t spare a look towards him, your dull eyes kept focus on what was in front of you. You trudged towards your position, finding the spot labelled with your subject number and began your work.

The rose room was a large greenhouse. Inside it was a maze of rose bushes, sporting roses of all kinds and colours. If you were more awake then maybe you would appreciate the reds, blue, yellows and purples a lot more, but in your zombified state, you only knew work. In the middle of the room, however, was a large conveyer belt. 

Your job was to extract certain things from these roses, place them on the conveyer belt, and move onto the next thing. You did this for three hours in the morning everyday.

It was only in the rose room that you saw more of the subjects that were kept in the facility. You were just conscious enough to be aware of the girl and boy on either side of you, and of the fact that you didn’t recognise them.

However, you were blissfully unaware of the guards stalking through the rows of you. They stopped by the boy on your left and grabbed him by the shoulders. You didn’t register the guards movements. You didn’t register the boy being violently yanked out of his position. You didn’t register him being dragged down the halls. You didn’t register his screams.

You did your work.

---

Due to the numbing agent of the serum, time didn’t seem to exist during your work and lunch, so, before you knew it, it was time to train. 

The training room was a very large open space, with an area of it dedicated to a certain activity. Your training works in a circuit. Each of you has an individual routine, specific activities and exercises to work on each day that are tailored towards your abilities. As well as the ability training, you all have fitness training and agility and other physical exercises to complete as well. You weren’t sure what you were training for, but you had been doing it all your life.

Yesterday you had been working on distance training. This was one exercise that was centred around your ability and focused on you trying to move the same object from a further distance each time. It was repetitive and mentally draining, but always gave you good results. Since that was yesterday, it meant that today you were working on your physical agility and assisting it with your abilities. It involved things such as jumping from narrow beams and using your telekinesis to help and support your movements.

You always began without using abilities, trying it by yourself so that you knew where you needed to direct your energy. You started on two long beams that were only around two feet off the floor, and you simply jumped between them, trying to keep your balance. You had to make your way down them while jumping from one to the other, speeding up each time you completed it.

Then, once the instructor watching you was satisfied, you were told to use your abilities. You now used telekinesis to manipulate the air around you to help you jump. It made you jump further and faster, also with safer landings. You continued with this for a short while before the instructor stopped you.

‘Right, now let’s actually put it to the test.’ They said, turning away from you.

You watched them, confused, bending over slightly with you hands on your knees as you tried to catch your breath. You had been hoping for a break so that you could rest briefly but you had no such luck. Your instructor turned around and pointed above them.

‘Up you go’ They said nonchalantly. You followed to where they were pointing and you let out a breath of disbelief. Above you, hanging from the ceiling, were thin beams that were swaying the the minute breeze cause by the movement.

‘You’ve gotta be kidding me.’ You thought. But you instructor simply looked at you expectantly and you knew that you weren’t getting out of this. All the other boys were drawing to a close with their exercises, which didn’t go unnoticed by your instructor, so they decided to make a small change to their plan.

‘You get through this once, and then we’re done for the day. Okay?’ They said, nodding with a smile that was anything but friendly.

You took a deep breath and climbed the stairs to the side of the room. On the way up you looked down and watched as Jisung finished his final exercise, meaning that all the boys were officially done. You reached the top and looked out in front of you.

The beams were much thinner than those you had been working on below, and, not to mention, the ropes holding them up looked suspiciously frail. They creaked as they moved and the wooden beams swayed gently in front of you. You knew that you weren’t getting out of here without completing this task, so you jumped.

The first jump was easy. It wasn’t even half a meter long and your telekineses helped you to keep the beam steady. You took careful steps, wincing every time the beam creaked underneath your weight. The ropes groaned as you moved but you kept going, knowing that slowing down would be more dangerous. 

You cleared the second jump again, with a little more effort required, but you couldn’t quite figure out why it was more difficult. You made you way across this one swiftly, keeping you steps as light as possible due to the trembling ropes. The last thing you wanted was to fall now. It wasn’t until you reached the third jump that you realised why it was getting harder.

The jumps were getting bigger.

You swallowed, risking a look down and seeing the seven boys watching you carefully. You took a shaky breath, keeping your eyes on them as you saw Jeno give you a nod of encouragement. You nodded back and lifted your head, determined to finish this. You focused your mind on using the air around you and pictured pushing the particles together to form a barrier. You jumped forward and used that barrier to lift you slightly higher. You let out a sigh of relief when you cleared the distance, but you relaxed too early as you hadn’t taken into account the weight of you landing.

The ropes creaked dangerously loudly and you watched in fear as they began to fray. You knew you had to finish this quickly, or else you would be taking the quick way down. You took step after step, walking as fast as you possibly could to reach the second to last jump. You lifted off again, this time with less preparation due to you worry of the beam snapping, and you almost didn’t make it. You landed, roughly on the edge of the beam, holding onto it desperately in an attempt to pull yourself up.

You could hear the worried intakes of breath from the boys below you, but they didn’t say a thing. They weren’t allowed to. Interfering with another subject’s training had painful repercussions. 

‘Come on y/n.’ You heard Jaemin’s voice echo through your head. You spared a look down to find him looking at you intently. You realised that he must be using his abilities to speak with you telepathically. You didn’t know he could do that. ‘Pull yourself up. You can do this.’

You forced yourself to focus, using your ability to help your legs up and you got onto the beam. You had just straightened up when it started to shake, the ropes of the verge of breaking.

‘Run!’ Jaemin’s voice shattered your dazed mind and you took off. One foot in front of the other, just trying to reach the end. You only had two jumps left to make, one to the final beam and one to the solid platform at the end with the stairs to take you back down to the safety of the ground. 

You launched off the beam and onto the final one, the impact of your landing causing the ropes to tremble. You began to run and they properly gave out. You felt the beam beneath you begin to give way and you placed a final foot as close to the edge as you could, and leaped.

You used your ability the best you could, but you could tell that you weren’t going to make it. Then you felt a sudden gust of air push you up slightly, allowing you to just clear the distance and land in a heap, safely on the other side. 

You lay there on the ground for a second, catching your breath. The instructor’s voice echoed around the training room.

‘Head back to your cells! We’re done for the day!’

---

You and Jeno were making your way back to your cell after dinner. The events of the training room hadn’t left your mind. That final gust of air had saved you. And you knew that it had to have come from Jeno. No one else could do that.

‘Hey Jeno?’ You asked, keeping your eyes on the floor as you walked.

He hummed in response.

‘Thank you for earlier. I don’t know what I would have done without you.’ You said honestly.

He stopped you walking, forcing you to look at him.

‘You don’t ever need to thank me. I’ve got your back and you’ve got mine. No matter what, we’re always gonna protect each other yeah?’

You nodded, a smile etching its way onto your face.

‘Yeah.’

You kept walking, turning the corner into your corridor that your cell was near the other end of. On the way to your cell, you passed the lab with its door open. You looked into it as you passed and stopped in your tracks. Donghyuck was on the operating table they had in the middle of the room, being restrained by two guards as he whimpered and resisted. You watched as they clamped metal restraints over his wrists and ankles, keeping him in place. A doctor began to approach him with a scalpel in his hand when the two of you were noticed. The doctor gestured towards the guard who reach forward and slammed the door shut, the lock clicking afterwards.

You and Jeno shared a sad look. The familiar whirring noise of the doctor’s instruments radiated through the door and you winced. You both recognised that sound and knew what Donghyuck was about to be put though. Jeno’s arm came up to your back to begin to guide you back to your shared cell. You accepted and walked with him. You knew that there was nothing you could do.

You hadn’t even got halfway down the corridor before Donghyuck began to scream.

---

9 days had passed since your last lab visit, meaning that you would be back in there tonight. And you were. You hadn’t even finished eating when the guards came to collect you. The other boys watched you sadly as you were escorted away.

You lay down on the operating table waiting for them to proceed. You felt the two guards approach you and you instinctively began to draw yourself away.

‘Strap her down. We don’t have time for this.’ The doctor instructed, frustration already present in his tone.

The guard stepped towards you again, grabbing your hands and pushed them down onto the table you were lying at. He ignored your begs and pleads to let you go and, instead, clamped the metal restraints down over your wrists. He repeated this process with your feet, effectively locking you in place.

You struggled against the cuffs with all you might but couldn’t budge one bit. You were used to being cuffed at your wrists and ankles, but it was when the guard approached you with a large belt, strapping your stomach to the table, that you really began to freak out. Your whole body thrashed from side to side as you tried to break free, but eventually, you found yourself unable to move.

The doctor leaned forward and pushed the guard out of the way. You noticed that, for the first time, there were three doctors preparing to work on you, rather than the normal one. This, and the intense measures that they went to to ensure that you couldn’t move, caused your fear to shoot through the roof.

‘The new procedure today Doc?’ One of the younger doctors asked.

‘Yes. We should be able to get some good data.’ The doctor leaning over you answered. 

You whimpered slightly, terrified of what was about to happen. The doctor leaned further over you, adjusting the scalpel in his hand. You tried to move away from it, but you had no power. The other two doctors held you head and chest, exposing you neck.

You felt the small knife make a long incision on the back of your neck and you couldn’t stop the scream that ripped from your throat. Something was on this knife that was making it unbelievably painful.

‘Don’t panic, she’s just reacting to the acid that’s on the tools.’ The first doctor’s voice cut through.

Acid.

Whatever was happening to you, it was going to be the most painful experience of your life.

And it was.

You screamed and thrashed and sobbed, trying everything you could to escape the merciless torture that was being inflicted upon you. You were cut in areas, injected, and hit with other objects. The doctors measured you reactions to each of these and took notes on how your body reacted.

You eventually transcended the level of pain, you body and mind too broken for you to register the full extent of what you were going through. You couldn’t even scream anymore, your lungs and vocal cords exhausted from the amount you’d used them in the previous hours.

‘Ok that’s enough.’ You heard a voice say. You tried to pry your eyes open to see who was speaking, but you couldn’t move. You could barely even focus on the words that were being said.

‘It’s not your job to tell us what to do.’ You recognised the main doctor’s voice.

The previous voice replied again. ‘It’s my job to keep them alive. Now stop.’

You managed to pry open your eyes and noticed a guard standing in front of the doctor, staring him down. You could’t process what was going on. The guards never stood up for you.

However, something in the guard’s words made the doctor turn back towards you, and when he saw the state that you were in, he swore.

‘Fuck.’ The words left his mouth softly and he suddenly began to rummage through the drawers. ‘Save the data, we need to eradicate this experience. She couldn’t take as much as we thought she could.’

The younger doctor’s voice piped up, a sentence that sent a chill down your spine. ‘We could try it on subject A3. The higher levels of speed mean that he heals faster, we would probably get further on him.’

‘Good idea.’ The first doctor replied.

Subject A3... Mark.

‘Now this is going to wake her up for about thirty seconds before knocking her out again. But she still isn’t going to have control over her limbs so you need to get her back to her cell, understand?’

You assumed the doctor was talking to the guard, but your eyes had closed again. The weight of your eyelids being too much to hold open in your current state. You tried to protest as the doctor tiled your head to the side, but all that came out was a choked whine. You hissed as the needle pierced your skin and something was injected into you.

You head spun violently as your body registered the new drug and you felt as though you were going to throw up. Your eye shot open as you gulped for air, your newly freed arms coming up to scratch at you throat.

Not even two seconds later, your entire body was numb. You couldn’t move, stand or pick yourself up even if you wanted to. The guard approached you, holding one of your arms over his shoulder and supporting your waist with the other. He lifted you up and walked you out of the door. Until the doctor’s voice caused a sudden stop to his movements

‘Ten? Not a word of this to anyone.’

The guard, Ten, didn’t move, didn’t even turn back to look at the doctor, but he didn’t need to in order to understand the threat. He made his way down the corridor, swearing as you slipped slightly from his grip. You watched the floor begin to spin under you feet as you were carried back to your cell. He finally reached the door, swiping his key card in the lock and kicking it open before throwing you back inside.

Your limp body hit the floor with a hard thud and the door closed behind the guard as he exited, locking with a click and a buzz. The ceiling spun above you and you couldn’t move to pull yourself up from the floor to get to your bed. You just registered Jeno’s worried face coming into your vision when it all went black.

---

You woke to the same high pitched beeping you did every morning. This time, however, to the view of Jeno’s head on your bed too. He had fallen asleep on the floor, watching over you throughout the night.

He stirred slightly, groaning as the beeping woke him from his slumber. He lifted his head, turning suddenly to look at you, his eyes widening when he saw that you were awake.

‘Y/n? Are you okay?’ He asked, concern etched on his features.

You opened your mouth to speak, but all that came out was a hoarse croak. You throat burned from the previous night and you winced at the pain. Jeno stood quickly, running into the bathroom to get you a glass of water. He came back and handed it you, watching as you gulped it down.

‘What did they do to you?’ He whispered, watching you form sadly. 

‘I don’t know.’ You whispered back, unable to speak any louder.

The door buzzed open and a guard walked in, the number 10 easily visible on the strap on his upper right arm. He placed the new grey jumpsuits on the end of your bed began to walk away again. The guard stopped in the doorway and turned back.

‘The rose room has been cancelled.’ He informed the two of you. ‘Instead, you train in the morning, then go for lunch and have a free afternoon. Get out of bed y/n.’

Both yours and Jeno’s heads shot towards the guard as he left, the two of you frozen in shock as the door locked shut.

‘Tell me you heard that too.’ Jeno breathed.

‘Yep.’ You confirmed, your brain running at a mile a minute.

‘They never address us by our names.’ He stated, and he was right. You were always addressed by subject number, nothing else.

‘Yep.’ You repeated.

‘Only by subject number.’

‘Yep.’

‘What do you think it means?’ He asked, turning away from the shut door to look at you.

‘I don’t know.’ You shook your head, your eyes still locked on the cell door that was staring back at you.

‘Why was it only you?’ Jeno wondered aloud.

‘I don’t know.’ You knew about as much as Jeno did so you honestly had no idea why he was asking you all these questions.

‘How do you feel about it?’

You paused, not knowing how to answer the final question that, for some reason, made your blood run cold. You turned to look at him.

‘... I don’t know.’

---

You and Jeno were the last to enter the training room. You both scanned the guards surrounding you all, but when none of them had the number 10 on their armour, you shared a disappointed look. Before arriving, you had decided to keep a look out for that guard, to see if there was something that separated him from the others. Something you could notice that would give you a reason as to why he used your name rather than your number. Once the eight of you were in the room, the guards turned and left, shutting the door behind them. You all stared at the shut door, then at each other. You had never been left alone in the training room before. Never.

What was wrong with this day?

You walked towards the physical agility station, confused when you saw Chenle standing there, preparing for his training. You weren’t sure why he was there when it was your turn for that station. He turned around when you approached him, his confused features mirroring your own.

‘Umm I’m meant to be on this station today.’ You informed him, not quite understanding why he didn’t already know that. You had all been on this training timetable for as long as you could remember.

‘No you’re not.’ Chenle replied bluntly, staring at you as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

‘Yeah, I am.’ Chenle shook his head at you but you persisted. ‘Yes, I am! I was on distance training yesterday so now I’m on this. Aren’t you on strength and conditioning?’ You stared at him expectantly but instead watched as worry spread across his face.

‘Y/n...’ His voice was low, quite as if he wasn’t sure how to tell you this. ‘You did physical agility three days ago.’

‘What do you mean?’ You asked, unable to quite wrap your mind around this new piece of information.

‘I mean you did this activity three days ago.’ He repeated, his eyes widening with worry. ‘Don’t you remember?’

You shook your head and took a shaky step back. By this point the other boys had begun to notice the conversation between the two of you, prompting them to come over and see what was wrong. Jeno placed a hand on your should, having just overheard the last two sentences.

‘Y/n, what do you remember?’ He looked you straight in the eyes.

‘I don’t know.’ You repeated the words you had already said multiple times today, fear and frustration growing. 

‘What did they do to you in that lab?’ He questioned, desperate for an answer.

‘I don’t know.’ You could hear the emotion creeping out in your voice.

‘Think!’ Jeno said, shaking you by the shoulders gently.

‘I don’t know! I don’t remember!’ You raised your voice, your body beginning to shake. All of the other boys stared at you in horror and you fell into Jeno’s hug whispering a scared. ‘Why don’t I remember?’

It was Jaemin’s voice that spoke the words you were all thinking but too afraid to say, scared of what it would mean for you all.

‘They wiped her memory.’

---

You eyes opened to the harsh light above you as the same rhythmic beeping woke you up. Even though you have woke up to the same noise for as long as you can remember, it still drives you insane to listen to it.

You rolled over, pulling your pillow over your head as you waited for it to stop. You felt a weight on the side of your bed and hands gently pull the pillow off your face. You opened one eye to be greeted with Jeno’s smiling face. You couldn’t help but let out a smile at the little crescents his eyes made each time he smiled. It always managed to make you happy as well.

You rolled onto your back and shut your eyes again, pulling one arm over to help block out some of the light that was still making its way though. Jeno’s hand came up to rub your arm comfortingly.

‘How are you feeling today?’ He asked, his voice slightly raspy from just having woken up.

You groaned out as a response

‘I don’t know. Better, I guess. We talked about it a lot yesterday which helped. At least now we know how much I’m missing.’

You removed your arm from your eyes and looked at the boy above you who was nodding.

‘Three days, including an entire visit to the lab. We have to assume that something happened that they didn’t want you to remember.’ He mused, the logical and rational side of his brain showing.

‘But what?’ You wondered. It annoyed you so much that the only person who had these answers was you, and you couldn’t even remember them.

The cell door buzzed and a guard walked in. You lifted your head to get a look at his number. 23. No luck. He threw the jumpsuits onto the end of your bed and then proceeded to stare at the two of you.

‘Stay apart. No need to be that close.’ He ordered, but neither of you moved. ‘I said, keep distance between the two of you. Stay on your own bed!’ 

He took a step forward, as if he was preparing to pull the two of you away from each other, but you acted faster. You threw your hand out, making a pushing motion and watched as the guard flew out of the door, landing on his bum a few feet back. 

He stumbled to his feet, attempting to stammer out an insult or some other kind of attempt to show off his power, but instead just settled on slamming the door shut. 

The lock buzzed and Jeno turned to look at you, shock and amazement clear on his face.

‘How did you manage that? That took almost no effort.’

You sighed.

‘I’m tired.’

Jeno’s brows furrowed at your reply.

‘But you’re like me in that being tired means it takes more effort and focus to use your abilities.’

You nodded at him as you explained yourself.

‘Yep. But I’m not that kind of tired. I mean I am, but most of all, I’m tired of this. This life, whatever it is. I’m tired of being treated like I’m a monster, I’m tired of the experiments, I’m tired of the training, I’m fed up with being here.’ You turned your head to look at Jeno after your confession and watched as he nodded with a sad but understanding smile on his face.

‘Yeah... me too.’ He admitted, his voice soft.

‘I know.’ You whispered.

---

You exited your cell, ready for the day and saw guards lined up by your door. You and Jeno shared a confused look, wondering where the doctor’s were, when the guard next to Jisung began to speak.

‘From now on, we’ll be administering your serum.’ He then turned to the boy in front of him. ‘Arm out.’

The guard by your door did the same, grabbing your wrist and exposing your inner elbow. He placed the syringe just below the joint and pressed down. You winced at the feeling that you were unfortunately used to and stepped away so that Jeno could get his. You then waited for the usual symptoms to hit you, watching as your friends turned into the comatose shells of themselves that you were expecting.

But they never came.

Your mind remained as sharp and aware as ever, and you could feel every thought that ran through your mind. You turned back to look at Jeno and, one look at his eyes told you that he was feeling the exact same thing. Your eyes flickered towards the guard who administered your serum and you focused on the number on his arm.

10.

Jeno followed your gaze and looked back at you with wide eyes. The guard began to walk towards the two of you and, out of the corner of your eye, you could see the other guards doing the same so you didn’t think too much of it. Until he began to speak.

‘You’re heading to the rose room.’ He then made sure to look the both of you directly in the eyes. ‘And you’re under the usual effects of the serum.’

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving both you and Jeno alone. You decided to just do what he said and head to the rose room, but you made sure to act as though you were feeling the usual effects of the serum. You moved lethargically, dragging your feet and keeping your eyes ahead at all times. Jeno did the same, both of you faking it the entire way there, while wondering what the hell was going on.

---

You stood at your usual position in the rose room, gathering ingredients and putting them on the conveyer belt like you always did. When you entered the room it was hard not to react to anything. The range of brilliant colours blinded you as you entered and it took everything in you not to just stop and stare.

You noticed that, out of the all the subjects there, that you guessed would be around one hundred, it only looked like your group was under the serum. The rest of them seemed very much aware of their surroundings and what they were doing. When gathering the ingredients you took a quick look at what it was exactly that you were gathering. When you got a glimpse of the label, your heart stopped. These were the same bottles that were found in the lab. It wasn’t until you managed to look over every different object obtained from the genetically modified roses, that you realised you had spent your entire life gathering the solutions and serums that the doctors had used to perform experiments on you.

You had been assisting in your own torture.

You found yourself standing at your final station, a girl you didn’t recognise on your right and the space to your left was empty. The guards began to march between you all, weaving their way through the working subjects. They stopped next to you, so close that you could feel their breath on the back on your neck.

The hairs on your arm began to rise and goosebumps began to form at the close contact. You prayed that they couldn’t see your reaction, knowing that it would give away your state. But they weren’t there for you.

The guards grabbed the girl on your right by her shoulders and pulled her backwards. They held her underneath each arm and dragged her out of the rose room. Her screams, struggles and pleas for help went completely ignored as she was eventually pulled out of sight. No one took any notice, not single subject seemed to realise what had just happened. You could her your heart pounding louder than every before, the girl’s screams still echoing in your head, haunting your thoughts.

A sudden bell sounded through the rose room, one that you recognised as signalling the end of the session. You turned in your spot, waiting for your turn to leave as all the subjects filed out of the rose room in orderly fashion. The fact that the girl was taken at the end of the session made you nervous. Is that what the guards were doing when walking through you all? Looking for their next target? And how long it would be until it was one of you?

---

After the longest day yet, you and Jeno were back in your cell. The door locked behind you and you both turned and stared at each other in disbelief.

‘How much have we missed by being under the serum?’ You asked.

‘They must only put us under it so that they can get away with doing all those things, it’s not to protect us at all.’ Jeno stated and you nodded in agreement.

‘And did you see what we were gathering in the rose room?’ You brought up, watching as Jeno’s eyes widened in realisation.

‘The solutions they use in the lab! And what did they do to that poor girl?’ His voice softened as you both thought about the subject being dragged away from you all, begging for help.

‘I didn’t even know her name.’ You muttered.

‘Me neither.’ Jeno admitted. ‘But did you notice, I don’t think anyone other than our group was under the simulation.’

‘Yes!’ You agreed. ‘I saw that too. Everyone else seemed perfectly aware of what was going on.’

Jeno nodded and you sat down on your bed, your brain feeling as though it was about to explode.

‘Huh...’ You mumbled, a sudden thought crossing your mind.

Jeno turned his head towards you, his eyebrows furrowing at the confused look on your face.

‘What?’ He questioned.

‘It’s just... the other subjects were definitely awake. It was obvious that they hadn’t been given the serum that we normally are. So, why didn’t they react to that girl being taken by the guards.’ You pondered.

Jeno thought for a moment, sitting down on his own bed opposite you.

‘Maybe they’re used to it.’ He suggested. ‘We don’t know how often that happens, it could be considered normal.’

‘I guess.’ You conceded. ‘But they didn’t react at all... I mean, even if you’re used to it, she was screaming for her life and they didn’t even spare a glance. It’s strange not to take any notice of that. I mean, we only didn’t because we had to act as if we were still under the serum.’

Jeno didn’t reply for a second, his eyes fixated on his hands that fiddling were in his lap.

‘Why do you think we weren’t given the serum?’ He asked, looking up at you.

You opened your mouth to tell him that you had no idea, but the lock on your door buzzed, and it swung open. Four guards stalked in causing you and Jeno to both stand out of shock. You were never disturbed at this time unless it was to take you to the lab, and it was Renjun’s night tonight.

Two of the guards approached you, the other two heading towards Jeno.

‘What’s happening?’ Jeno asked, but he was ignored.

Not a words was uttered by the guards as they grabbed you by the arms and began to drag you out of your cell. You began to kick and scream, struggling with all your might to break free.

‘Jesus, why can’t she go quiet?’ One of the guards complained, earning a groan from his partner.

‘Just get her to the lab and stop complaining.’

The lab...

You began to throw yourself about, desperate to not go back there, whatever the cost. You had no idea what it was that was making you react this violently, but your instincts kicked it and told you to fight with all your might.

Upon seeing you reaction, Jeno tried to reach for you, but he was stopped by the other two guards who grabbed him by the shoulders and forced him back. They held onto him tight as he tried to break through them.

‘Y/n! Let go!’ He yelled out, trying to land a hit on one of the guards.

‘Jeno!’ You called back, kicking out with your feet in an attempt to throw the guards off balance.

‘Y/N!’ You could hear Jeno crying out for you as you were pulled out of the cell completely. You just managed to see the two guards holding Jeno throw him to the floor before they turned to leave. They locked the door, with you on the outside and Jeno on the inside.

You continued to be dragged away, crying out for dear life, begging someone to come and help you. But no one did. They all acted as if you didn’t exist. You couldn’t help but wonder if this was how that girl had felt earlier. Screaming and pleading for someone to save her, only to be treated like a ghost.

Jeno’s screams for you could still be heard halfway down the corridor, along with the heavy banging against the door from him throwing his body against it in an attempt to get out.

As you approached the lab door, every morsel of your being was telling you, screaming at you, not to go back in there. But you didn’t have a choice. The two guards threw you into the lab, one of them following you in, before the door was locked shut. You were stuck in the lab with one doctor and one guard, and you were terrified.

You banged on the door, trying desperately to get out. You were so frantic that you couldn’t hear the doctor trying to get your attention. It was only when you realised that they were making no effort to restrain or cuff you that you managed to calm yourself down slightly.

You turned away from the door, the tear tracks down your face prominent. You weren’t sure when you had started crying, the utter terror you had been feeling having taken over your entire body.

The doctor took one step towards you, holding up his hands as if in surrender, but also to show you that he wasn’t holding anything.

‘Well done y/n. Just try to keep yourself calm okay? Breathe... Can you do that for me?’

You didn’t reply to him, simply staring at the man that seemed to act as if he cared for you. These doctors didn’t care for you. Normally you would be handcuffed to the table, screaming in pain by now, but for some reason you were standing upright being told to breathe.

The guard to your left took off his helmet, causing you to take a breath of surprise. You had never seen a guard with his helmet off before, much less one this close. You gawked as the man smiled at you, a genuine, comforting smile that for some reason made you feel safe.

The doctor began to speak again.

‘Y/n, we’re not going to hurt you. In fact, we’re trying to help you. My name’s Doyoung and this is Ten.’ 

‘Uh huh...’ You stuttered, not really managing to get any real words out.

‘Ten administered your serum this morning, the serum I created for you. And you probably don’t need me to tell you that it was a fake.’

You nodded at the doctor’s words, still trying to calm your racing heart.

‘We did that because there’s a lot that you don’t know about this place that we think you should.’ The doctor, Doyoung, then turned to the guard. ‘Ten can you get her some water?’

The guard, who you assumed went by his uniform number 10, nodded before standing up.

‘Do you want to sit down?’ Doyoung asked, pulling up a chair for you.

You nodded, gladly taking the chair and very grateful that he didn’t ask you to sit on the table. Ten offered you a glass of water, which you took with a small smile as thanks. You took a sip, relishing in how the cool liquid managed to calm your mind.

‘Ok, keep going.’ You said and Doyoung’s eyebrows raised in surprise. ‘Why are you surprised? Like you said, after what I’ve seen today, I’m not so sure that this place is really meant to keep me safe.’

Doyoung sighed and looked down sadly.

‘It isn’t. This place isn’t designed to keep you safe, but rather to keep you in. It’s a prison. I know that to you it seems as though there are hundreds of people here, but there aren’t. Only the eight of you on your floor are being kept here.’

You let out a deep breath you didn’t even know you were holding.

‘A prison...’ You whispered. ‘Only for the eight of us?’

Doyoung nodded and Ten placed a comforting hand on your shoulder.

‘Why us?’ You asked.

Doyoung and Ten shared a look, making you dread what was coming next.

‘Please, just tell me what I am.’ You begged, so tired of having spent your entire life not knowing the most basic thing about you.

‘Doyoung, she needs to know.’ Ten said, as Doyoung sighed.

‘Yeah, I know. There’s no easy way to tell you this y/n. The world fell into chaos slightly. Political leaders began to clash more and more with each other and, before we knew it, we were on the brink of a third world war. One that, this time, really would involve the whole world, and with the creation of nuclear weapons, our government want something that would set us apart from everywhere else. He decided to turn his intentions to modifying humans. He exposed children to certain chemicals and levels of radiation when they were young to see if anything had an affect on them. Eventually he found success, but at a very large cost.’

‘How large?’ You whispered, scared of the answer. Ten spoke up this time, making you turn your head towards him.

‘He tested on over three hundred thousand children. You eight are the only survivors.’

You didn’t know how to react. Eight out of three hundred thousand. Who would be willing to pay that high of a price?

‘What does that make me? A weapon?’ You asked, your voice quiet, almost inaudible.

‘You were human, at some point. Now, we’re not sure. I would believe the closest definition is a mutant of some kind, but y/n, you have to remember that this doesn’t define you.’ Doyoung leaned forward but you shook your head.

‘I’m not human, I’m a mutant, a weapon, an experiment. I’m nothing more than an experiment, a toy for you to play with in your lab. That why I’m prisoner here. I’m a monster.’ You were spiralling, caught up in a mess of reality and new information, you couldn’t control where your mind was heading.

‘Y/n, Doyoung is right, this doesn’t define who you are.’ Ten tried to reassure you but you whirled on him.

‘Doesn’t define me? Yes it does! It literally is what I am, how can you say it doesn’t define me?’ You accused.

‘Because you’re more than that! Beneath all that’s been done to you, all we’ve done to you, we know that you’re people. You are human, you think and feel as we do, you love like we do, you die like we do. And who gives a damn about what made you what you are. It’s who you are that matters.’ Doyoung stood up during his small speech. He somehow managed to verbally slap some sense into you, allowing you a brief moment to calm your mind.

‘The others need to know.’ You blurted, your thoughts suddenly drifting back to Jeno.

‘Yes, and we will tell them.’ Ten reassured.

‘Tonight.’ You insisted. ‘They’ve been through exactly the same thing I have. Why should I get to know the truth and they shouldn’t?’

Both Doyoung and Ten looked at each other, having short, silent conversation before Doyoung sighed and agreed with you.

‘Ok, tonight. Ten go and fetch them from their cells. The doors are locked so the corridors should be empty of guards.’

Ten nodded and left the room quickly, stopping briefly to scan the hallways and only continuing once he knew it was clear. The door automatically shut softly behind him. You suddenly remembered something else Doyoung said, causing you to turn back to face him once more.

‘What changed your mind?’ You asked, only receiving a very confused look from the doctor in return. ‘You’ve worked on us for years, as a trainee then as a real doctor. You haven’t had this position long, so why are you risking everything you’ve worked for? When did you start to think of us as humans?’

A guilty look crossed Doyoung’s face.

‘I’ve done some terrible things to you, to all of you, over the years, and I cannot apologise enough for that. I always thought... that we were doing the right thing, the thing that should be done. We needed something to set us apart or, before we knew it, we would be a speck of dust on the ground, bombed within an inch of our lives. But that was over ten years ago, and you guys haven’t left the facility once. I kept telling myself that it would be worth it, that this was all being done for a reason, and that you would understand that. But then I was in the lab and something made me look at a subject differently. The way he acted, it was something so vulnerable, so human, that it changed my perspective completely.’

‘What was it?’ You asked, immersed in Doyoung emotional words.

‘It was Jeno. He was undergoing a procedure that had been done a thousand times before, but the head doctor that day decided to make some changes. I don’t know what he did, but Jeno started to scream, and not just shout out in a bit of pain, I mean, properly scream. I could hear the strain on his vocal cords and he started crying out and begging for help like I had never heard anyone beg before and he kept calling for the same person over and over.’

‘Who did he call out for?’ Your voice was shaking slightly, your emotions running high at the thought of what could have made Jeno scream out like that.

Doyoung looked at you, complete sincerity in his eyes.

‘You. He called out for you.’

Before you could reply, or even process this information, the door to the lab burst open and the other boys all piled in. Jeno spotted you, alive, awake and well and made his way towards you immediately. He pulled you in for a tight hug as soon as he reached you, wrapping his arms securely around your waist. 

‘Oh thank god, you’re okay.’ He whispered. He pulled back and brushed the hair out of your face, holding your cheeks in his hands while he searched your face for any sign of pain. ‘Are you okay?’

You nodded in response. ‘Yeah I’m okay. But you guys need to hear this.’

You watched as Doyoung and Ten explained to the other boys what they had just told you. You watched as they went through exactly the same reactions that you did. And you watched as each of them managed to process this information in their own way.

‘There’s only one thing left to tell you all.’ Ten said, watching as eight pairs of scared eyes looked up at him. ‘We’re going to break you out.’

‘I’m sorry, you’re gonna what?’ Renjun asked, voicing the shock you were all feeling.

‘You’re more than just subjects, more than just experiments, you’re people. And you don’t get the chance to just be people when you’re trapped here. So tomorrow, we’re gonna break you out.’ Doyoung explained.

‘Tomorrow?’ Chenle questioned and both Doyoung and Ten nodded in confirmation.

‘What’s happens after that? Where do we go next? All we’ve known is this facility, so what will we do outside of it?’ Jaemin piped up, thankfully thinking ahead for all of you.

‘I already have a truck ready for us to escape in tomorrow, from there we will drive out of range so that they can’t detect us. Doyoung and I know some people who are willing to help. We’ll stay with them for a while and then, eventually, reintegrate the eight of you back into the world, and allow you to lie the normal life you’ve always been deprived of.’ Ten spoke. You sat there silently, just taking all this information in. You were getting out, and not only that, but also going to get the life you never thought you would ever be able to. You weren’t sure what life would be like on the outside, but as long as you had the guys there, you knew you would be okay.

You felt a pair of eyes on you and turned your head, only to catch Jeno staring at you with an unreadable expression on his face. He looked away as soon as you noticed him, clearing his throat before asking one last question.

‘So... how are we getting out of here?’

---

You lay in bed that night, unable to sleep. You knew that you could probably do with a good rest, but your mind was so active that it was impossible. You couldn’t tell if Jeno was awake too, worried that if he wasn’t you might wake him from your constant moving. Doyoung revelation about him calling out for you when in pain was plaguing your mind as well. You had often found yourself thinking of Jeno when you were undergoing procedures in the lab, but you had always dismissed it as wondering what state you would be in when you were returned to your roommate. Was it possible that it was something more? You can’t deny that you’ve felt something for Jeno, he was kind, compassionate, empathetic and so damn loyal to you.

‘Y/n?’ Jeno’s voice disrupted your thoughts, causing you to jump out of your skin.

You swallowed before replying.

‘Yeah?’

‘Oh you’re awake too.’ He mumbled.

‘Yeah... I can’t sleep.’ You admitted.

‘Me neither.’

The conversation stopped for a minute and, for the first time since you met him, you didn’t know what to say to Jeno. You felt colder in your bed than you ever had before and you wanted nothing more than to crawl into his and fall asleep there.

‘Y/n?’ Jeno spoke again, much softer this time.

‘Yeah?’ You whispered back.

‘I’m cold...’ He confessed and you could almost hear the blush that you knew would be dusting his cheeks.

Before you let the surge of courage you felt pass, you climbed out of your bed and padded softly over to his.

‘Move over.’ You instructed, gently tapping his side.

He did just as you told him too, moving himself to the edge so that you could climb in. You lay facing each other for a while and you found yourself unable to tear your gaze away from his eyes. He lifted up a hand to move a stray piece of hair out of your face and sighed.

You shut your eyes slowly, hoping that by being closer to him you would be able to get some rest. The only problem was, the beds that you slept on were not the largest and could only really fit one person. You found yourself almost pressed up against his chest and that made it very hard for you to calm your rapidly beating heart.

‘Hold on, bear with me for a second.’ Jeno mumbled as he moved himself around slightly. You squeaked in surprise when you felt his hands come to waist, pulling you halfway onto his chest as he settled down on his back.

‘Is this ok?’ He asked hesitantly, and you nodded in response.

Even though you were practically lying on top of him, you couldn’t deny that this position was much more comfortable. From here you could hear his heartbeat and you allowed the consistent rhythm of it to help lull you to sleep.

You wrapped your arm around his waist, the other coming up to rest on his chest as his arms found their way around your shoulder and stroking your hair. You closed your eyes and felt yourself finally drift off to sleep, almost missing the soft sentence Jeno whispered into your hair.

‘I don’t know what will happen once we get out of here, but please just... don’t leave me. I think I need you more than you know.’

---

For as long as you can remember, you have woken up to the sound of the high pitched repetitive beep of the alarm. Not today.

You were quickly pulled out of your sleep to the sound of alarms blaring, red lights flashing and shouting in the corridor. You and Jeno shared a sleepy but scared look before quickly climbing out of bed. You bit your lip slightly in embarrassment as you remembered the position that the two of you slept in last night. Jeno approached your door and pushed on it gently. The door swung open and the two of you stared in disbelief.

You followed him out into the corridor and found yourself standing in the middle of the chaos. Guards and doctors were running up and down the corridors shouting commands and arguing with each other while the eight of you all stood in your doorways, confused to high heavens.

‘Grab them now!’ You heard one of the doctors yell as you were finally noticed. ‘They’re not getting away.’

You saw a guard lunge for Chenle, who quickly turned into a fly and disappeared from sight. Three other guards ran towards you and Jeno, their intentions obvious and the two of you immediately began to move. Jeno threw up a gust of air, knocking them off their feet, while you pulled doors open and moved their legs so that they were constantly tripping over.

‘Guys we have to get out of here now!’ Mark yelled over the noise.

He suddenly appeared from nowhere, making you jump.

‘They somehow found out about our plan, either we leave now, or we’re never getting out.’ And with that he was gone, disappearing at the speed of light.

Jeno opened up a hailstorm on the guard in front of him, his efforts useless against the tough armour that they were wearing. You pulled out a metal drawer from one of the cells and used your telekinesis to ram in into the guard’s leg.

He crumpled where he stood, his head landing hard on the concrete. Your eyes went wide as he lay there unmoving for a second, until he let out a breath and groaned in pain. Jeno’s grabbed your arm and shouted something at you that you didn’t quite catch, you eye still fixated on the guard in front of you.

You really were dangerous. You had hurt someone. And it had taken very little effort from you to do so. What could you do if you really wanted to hurt someone? How badly could you hurt someone without meaning to? 

You lost focus on your surroundings, Jeno’s sudden pull on your arm causing you to lose balance. You managed not to fall over, but it slowed you down. You forced yourself to focus, to think rationally, to prioritise leaving and then you could figure out the extent of your abilities.

But you were too late. One of the doctors noticed your stumble and grabbed a taser from a fallen guard. They quickly pushed it into, electrocuting you where you stood. You mouth fell open as a scream tore out of it and your body collapsed onto the ground.

Your mind went fuzzy, everything around you slowing down as you tried to take it all in. You vaguely registered Jeno screaming out for you as you lay on the cold floor. You lifted your eyes and stared into the open door in front of you. It took you a few seconds to realise that you were staring into the lab. You watched as one of the guards cornered Doyoung, who stood with his hands up trying to explain something. They didn’t listen however, and you watched as the guard pulled a gun out of nowhere and squeezed the trigger.

Doyoung doubled over, a red patch forming on his stomach. His back hit the counter behind him and he sank down towards the ground, the pain evident on his face. The red mark on his shirt was growing by the second until it covered half of his lower stomach. You found yourself staring into the dull, lifeless eyes of the one doctor here who had actually tried to look out for you.

Your eyes welled up with tears, blurring your vision. You barely felt the arms that hooked under your elbows and began to drag you down the corridor. The last things you registered before you blacked out were Jeno screaming for you, and Doyoung’s dead body.

--- 

‘God this kid is a pain.’

‘I know man, I don’t get why we have to be stuck here with her.’

‘Doyoung though? Hmmm, I didn’t see that betrayal coming.’

‘Really? Out of everyone, I’m least surprised that it was him. He always had the weakest stomach when it came to things like this.’

You heard the voices before you even realised that you were awake. The guards in your room were having a casual chat while they waited for you to wake up. Your head was pounding and your mouth tasted like pennies. You scrunched up your face in discomfort, trying to open your eyes but with little success.

‘Oh, look. I think she’s coming back...’

You groaned out slightly, your mind suddenly becoming aware of the pain your body was in. You forced your eyes open, regretting that choice as soon as you were blinded by the harsh white light of whatever room you were currently being kept in.

You blinked a couple of times, trying to adjust to your surroundings, before taking a quick look around. You definitely weren’t in your cell anymore. You found yourself chained to the wall, literally. There were heavy metal cuffs around your wrists, ankles, stomach and even your neck. Each of those cuffs were attached to a chain that was embedded into the wall behind you.

They had taken every measure possible to imprison you somewhere they knew you wouldn’t be able to escape from.

You lifted your head and found yourself staring at two guards, both with their helmets off. They looked at you with such patronising looks on their faces, but you couldn’t focus on them. Your eyes were trained on the cupboard behind them, an open cupboard that you could see was filled with guard uniforms.

One of the guards followed your line of sight and laughed.

‘You’re not in our cloak room, don’t worry sweet heart. You’re in the maximum security room at the end of the hall.’ 

Your blood ran cold at his revelation. No one who entered this room ever made it out alive. But then, that was before you learnt that there were only eight of you actually being held in this facility... You really had no idea what this meant for you.

‘Allow me to explain.’ The other guard took a step forwards. ‘Every time you get drugged and tiptoe off the the rose room to do your work, we walk in and grab a random person standing next to one of you and drag them back here. Now their job is to just scream and kick and draw as much attention to themselves as they can while everyone else ignores them. Once they get here do you know what they do? They get back into their guard uniform and go back to work. All those people you know, everyone in the rose room with you, all of them are one of us.’ He let out a laugh. ‘I can’t believe you were stupid enough to think that they were real subjects!’

The first guard joined in, enjoying taunting you when you were at your most vulnerable.

‘God you really are stupid aren’t you?’ He commented. ‘You thought you were getting out? You’re never going to get out of here. You’re simply going to be stuck here for the rest of your life.’

The other guard laughed again.

‘Yeah, you know that war you were made for. It’s not going to happen so you really aren’t ever getting out. You’re too scared to hurt one of us, how would you ever be useful in a war?’

‘God you’re such a waste of space. I can’t believe that out of the hundreds of thousands that went through the initial testing, she was one of the few to survive.’

‘Tell me about it. Why is she even in maximum security? She probably wouldn’t hurt a fly.’

The guards continued with their taunts, each one crueler than the last. You tried everything you could to block them out, but it was difficult. Especially when they were right, you had been useless. It’s because you were too scared to hurt a guard’s leg that all of you are stuck here forever. This is your fault.

‘No it isn’t.’ Jaemin’s voice echoed through your head, startling you. ‘Ignore them y/n. None of this is your fault, it’s theirs. Don’t forget who put you there in the first place. Now, listen to me, you need to get out of there. Now. I don’t care how you do it, but y/n, it’s time to go.’

The guards continued to taunt you, telling you how powerless you were and you started to feel your anger grow. Jaemin was right, these people did put you in here. They imprisoned you, tortured you and the people you care about. They put you through hours upon hours of pain, just to tell you that you weren’t good enough.

You pulled your hands closed into fists and focused your mind like you never have before. You channelled your anger into your being, thinking of everything you’ve lost, everything they’ve taken from you. A family, a normal life, the ability to just be human. You felt the power rumble from within you. It was like nothing you had ever felt before. It grew from your soul, feeding off your raw emotions, evolving and mutating as it made its way throughout your limbs. It finally reached your head and your opened your eyes. They were pure gold.

The guards stopped their conversation and stared at you in fear, completely at a loss as to what they should do.

You finally understood. You weren’t human. You were so much more than that. And it was time they learnt just how powerful you could be.

You threw your head back, and screamed.

You unleashed all the power within you as a sheer bolt of energy. The chains imprisoning you shattered, falling to the floor. The guards were throw backwards, both of them hitting the wall with a sickening crack, and your door was blown off its hinges. You stood and began to move, feeling every part and every being in the universe working with you and you knew, this is what true power felt like.

You had no idea how to come down from it, you were so taken over that you didn’t feel the hand that gently found its way into yours until you were being turned where you stood and found yourself looking into Jeno’s eyes.

‘Come back to me y/n.’ He whispered, pulling you into his chest and stroking your hair. You let go of all the anger you were feeling, choosing instead to ground yourself with the boy in front of you. ‘We have to go.’

‘I heard.’ You mumbled, pulling yourself away from him chest.

You ran through the corridor, gathering all the boys on the way. Jeno had managed to create a mini hurricane in his room, effectively blowing his way out of the cell he was in. Jisung quite literally just barrelled straight through his door, but he once again misjudged his strength and couldn’t stop himself. He kept going straight into the door on the opposite side of the corridor, luckily bursting it open it for Renjun.

It the situation weren’t so dire you probably would have fallen over laughing at the scene in front of you. 

Chenle turned into a midge and flew through the key hole of his cell door, making you admire the boy’s talent to find a loophole in every scenario. Jaemin used his mind control to get the guard who was watching him to open the door for him. Also making the guard bow for him as he walked out as a finishing touch. You couldn’t help but smile at that. Jisung pulled off the doors of both Mark’s and Donghyuck’s cells and the eight of you ran.

You turned a corner and barrelled straight into a guard. All of you threw up your hands, ready to fight, until you saw that it was Ten. Instead of getting a punch in the face, Ten found himself with eight superhuman teens hugging him with all their might.

‘Ok, let’s do this later, the truck’s outside. Go!’

He pushed you all off his and pointed towards the door in front of you. You ran towards it, turning your head to the left as you passed the lab and not missing Doyoung’s body, still lying there on the floor. You swallowed back your tears, promising that you would mourn him properly later, and pushed forwards. You burst out of the doors, shocked beyond belief to find yourself in a lobby of some kind. Your entire life, you thought you had been in the sub basement section of a facility, but really you had been above ground the whole time.

You didn’t have time to marvel however, because, as soon as you were spotted, the alarms went off. They blared through the building and you took that as your cue to leave.

Jisung ran first, easily breaking the main doors open, despite their heavy lock, and the eight of you poured outside. You saw the truck that Ten had mentioned, the trademark number 10 a sign that it was yours. It was on the outside of the barbed wire fence that surrounded the facility. The fence was too high to climb so you took a deep breath and held your arms out. You pulled them apart, imaging a rip and watched as the fence tore in two.

You all sprinted through the fence and piled into the truck that was waiting for you. There was a fabric roof and some metal beams making the skeleton on the inside so you held onto that as you climbed in. Mark moved around to the front seat and you look out, waiting for Ten. You needed him to drive this truck as none of you could. 

Ten finally appeared, running at full speed towards you.

‘Go!’ He screamed. ‘Just go!’

You wanted to shout back to him but you never got the chance to. The gunshot rang out loudly and Ten fell straight to the ground. He lay face down in the grass, not breathing, not moving a muscle. 

He was dead.

‘Mark... Mark drive. We need to go.’ Donghyuck’s shaky voice tore you out of your trance. Mark moved himself so that he was in the driver’s seat and turned the key.

‘Ok, I can figure this out.’ He reassured himself.

‘Well can you do it now because we have some rather unfriendly company arriving in about thirty seconds. And you don’t want to know what they’ll do if they catch us.’ Donghyuck warned, making all your eyes widen in fear. When the boy who can see the future tells you that something is going to happen, you’ve learnt that the best thing to do would be to listen to him.

Mark moved the gear stick into ‘D’ and slammed his foot down on a random pedal. Luckily he seemed to get the right one because you all lurched forwards, speeding away from the facility. Mark’s super speed means that he has extremely fast reflexes, making it very useful for when he needs to learn a new skill. He reacted quickly to the movements of the car and it didn’t take long before you were smoothly driving away from the prison that was also happened to be the only home you’ve ever know.

Renjun shuffled in his seat, facing his body out the back of the truck and towards the facility. He lifted up his hands, turning his palms out before suddenly clenching them into fists. He then sat back down, his back hitting the seat as he let out a deep sigh.

‘Just a quick image of an empty field. It’ll throw them off the scent long enough for us to get out of here.’ He explained before leaning his head back and shutting his eyes.

You looked back at the large building that was disappearing rapidly into the distance and thought of Doyoung and Ten. The two who risked everything so that you could all be where you are now. And they were the two who paid the ultimate price.

You felt your eyes beginning to droop, the gentle movements of the car lulling your tiring body to sleep. You felt Jeno’s arm come around your shoulder and you leant into his warmth, relishing in the comfort of being close to him. Only now did you realise how exhausted you really were. You allowed your head to fall onto Jeno’s shoulder, feeling his arm tighten slightly around you, and you felt safe.

For the first time, ever, you felt safe.

[iliveiloveiwrite]

What are some good book recommendations? I’ll be honest, I’ve never considered myself very much of a reader because I’ve never really found a genre that I’ve fallen in love with. But your taste in books is rather beautiful and makes me want to give it another chance

omg no-one has ever called my taste in books beautiful before, thank you 🥺 This is going to be an extensive list, I apologise in advance! I’ve provided a brief description of each book/series so you can go through and decide whether it would best suit you. The last thing I want to do is inadvertently trigger anyone.

Fantasy/Paranormal Romance

Wicked by Jennifer L. Armentrout - A series of three books following the life of Ivy Morgan. Good fae, evil fae, secret orders and a love interest with dark hair and green eyes. 18+.

Throne of Glass by Sarah J. Maas - A series comprising of seven books and one book of novellas. This series follows the assassin Celeana Sardothien as she enters into a competition to become the King’s Champion. This series is violent, and has some distressing scenes as well as scenes of 17+.

Crave by Tracy Wolff - I like to think of this as Twilight if it took place in a boarding school in the middle of Alaska. For those that read Twilight in high school, or have recently read it, this book is a hit of nostalgia you didn't know you needed. It is so entertaining and the love interests are *chefs kiss*.

A Touch of Darkness by Scarlett St. Clair - A series comprising of three books so far. A modern retelling of the famous Hades and Persephone myth. I adore this series. I seriously cannot tell you how much I love this series. The world building to the character development to my love of Hades by the end of it. It’s such a great read, I even waxed lyrical about it in one of my Fred Weasley fics. 18+ (scenes of mature nature).

A Discovery of Witches by Deborah Harkness - Like history? Like vampires, witches and demons? This series is for you. A trilogy following the love shared by Diana Bishop, a historian and witch, and Matthew Clairmont, scientist and vampire. This series is for mature readers - it doesn't hold back on violence as well as sex. However, if you choose to read, I promise you, you will enjoy. It is also a series on Sky with a second series being aired in January (in the UK anyway). 18+

Stalking Jack the Ripper by Kerri Maniscalco - A series of four books following the lives of Audrey-Rose Wadsworth and Thomas Cresswell. Set in Victorian London, the first book follows the Jack the Ripper investigation ending on a cliffhanger not even I saw coming. This does get maturer as you continue the series and there are some gruesome scenes throughout. 16+

From Blood and Ash by Jennifer L. Armentrout - What can I say about this series that I haven’t already cried about? I bought the first book in lockdown and devoured it. I bought the second book about a week after it was published and it has not left my mind since. World building? Astonishing. Character development? Stunning. Handsome love interest? You best believe it. This isn't YA Fantasy; this is NA and it is mature. There are scenes throughout both books that are violent as well as mature. 18+.

Heartless by Marissa Meyer - The origin story of the Queen of Hearts and with no better way to put it... it’s heartbreaking. This book had my heart soaring only for it to be crushed in the best way possible. An incredible read. There are some violent scenes but it’s YA so it’s at a minimum. 15/16+.

The Wicked Deep by Shea Earnshaw - I read this book in one day. I could not put it down, I loved it so much. This books follows three sisters set on a quest for revenge - and how love may be the only thing powerful enough to stop them. 16+.

Historical Fiction 

The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller - Patroclus, an awkward young prince has been exiled to the kingdom of Pthia where he meets Achilles. Follow them through their coming of age tale through the Battle of Troy. So I adore this book, I love this book. I could talk about it all day long. It’s fantastic - go read it. LGBT+, 17+.

Lovely War by Julia Berry - A multi-layered romance set in the perilous days of World War One and Two, where Gods hold the fates - and hearts - of mortals in their hands. Oh... my... word... this book left me speechless. It left me speechless. I couldn’t not finish in the day that it arrived on my doorstep; it’s prose is poetic, it’s romance is dreamy and I just found myself tearing up at the words on the page. 17+

The Disappearances by Emily Bain Murphy - Every seven years something goes missing from the town of Sterling: people’s reflections, the stars in the sky, the ability to dream. Aila realises her mother may have something to do with such a curse. Again, I read this in a day. I couldn’t put it down. It’s set through WW2 and I just think the plot is genius. 15+.

Prose that makes me want to cry

The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern - I read this for the first time back in 2014 and have read it so often since that I have had to buy a second copy so I don’t ruin the pages of my first. I LOVE THIS BOOK. It follows the creation of a circus that only opens from night until dawn and how this circus weaves itself into the lives of its workers/owners. An absolute masterpiece. 16+.

The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue by V.E. Schwab - This book has been one of my most anticipated releases of 2020, and it has not disappointed. When Addie LaRue makes a pact with the devil, she trades her soul for immortality and the curse of no-one remembering who she ever was. Until one day, somebody does. Every part of this book, I savoured, I made myself read it slowly for the fact that I didn't want to miss a thing. Utterly breathtaking. 18+.

We Have Always Lived in the Castle by Shirley Jackson - Anything by Jackson deserves to be on this list. It drags you in and keeps you there. Why do you think they made a Netflix series of her work? 16+.

The Bloody Chamber by Angela Carter - This is a collection of short stories that are dark retellings of classic fairytales. It is so utterly fantastic. 18+.

The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo by Taylor Jenkins Reid - Definitely in my top 10 reads of 2020. A former Hollywood starlette tells her life story to a reporter; every seedy detail of her life including that of her seven husbands. I was hooked from the first page. 18+.

18+ (This section can be ignored if this genre of books is not your thing).

A Lesson in Thorns by Sierra Simone - When librarian Poe Markham takes the job at Thornchapel, she has only two aims. One - to stay away from Thornchapel’s owner, Auden Guest. And Two, to find out what happened to her mother twelve years ago. This is a series comprising of three books so far with the fourth published at the end of this week. This series covers a lot of dark themes as well as mature content. 

A Court of Thorns and Roses by Sarah J. Maas - I have only involved this series here for the fact that it does have a lot of smut involved. Not as much as other books, but a lot more than your typical YA. However, these books are gold and so far this year, I’ve read the whole series about six times. I love them, go read them. 

A Touch of Darkness by Scarlett St. Clair - I mentioned this series earlier but it does have a lot of smut.

Pestilence by Laura Thalassa - The first in the Four Horsemen series. This has a lot of violence and a lot of smut. However, the overall plot is so interesting as well as badass female characters that bring so much energy to the plot. 

The Bargainer series by Laura Thalassa - If you’ve read ACOTAR, then this series is the perfect hangover cure. A love interest to swoon for and a plot to only keep you interested.

Authors I buy every book of

Cassandra Clare

Sarah J. Maas

Jennifer L. Armentrout

Scarlett St. Clair

Deborah Harkness

Kerri Maniscalco

[subtlereferencetomyinterests]

A Misplaced Imbalance of Fear

Ao3,   MasterPost

Relationships: Romantic Dukexiety, implied/minor Moceit (platonic or romantic)

From the power of my Art and my Shitposts comes This Fanfiction!!!

Warnings: Panic Attacks, Lots of Cursing, descriptions of gore (horror movies, it gets decently explicit so beware that), mild body horror (Remus is here and he Does Things Like That), Heavy Roman angst for a hot minute in the middle, making out (continuing my theme of remus-centric fics getting more ;3). They do some makeup and drink tea, baby. Mentions of picking one’s skin as an Anxious habit, and also ticking. Also stimming!!! nd sides 4 life bb. Also, a very brief alcohol mention (it’s soup).

Word Count: 6,553

God Fucking Fuck, Virgil was going to have a self-care day even if it killed him dead. Everybody else could do whatever overdramatic fuckery they wanted when they were topside, but he was all set down there in the Mindpalace, thank you very much.

Luckily, mercifully, thankfully, the rest of the sides all seemed keen to let Virgil have his space anyway. There wasn’t a thing stopping him from relaxing.

Well, except for himself, of course.

A thrum of condensed stress and fear tugged at Virgil’s abdomen, bubbling its way over his edges. It was equally his own and the others’, probably due to whatever conversation they were caught up in in the external world. He would not relent to the worry, nor was he summoned to help with the situation, but his body refused to stop shaking. Perched on the top of the couch, frantically clicking the buttons on a fidget cube, Virgil tried to watch the gore playing on the TV in a tired effort to calm his nerves.

Horror movies… helped. They were something for his brain to chew on for a while- their over-the-top and ridiculous plots, the obnoxious characters that almost always deserve what’s coming to them, the attention-attaining action- it was all a recipe for Distraction. But they weren’t working by that point, no matter how badly Virgil wanted them to.

And then- possibly because the universe loved to spite Virgil and Virgil specifically- a walking, talking headache flung himself into the common room about as elegantly as a wolfhound with rabies.

“Heyyyy,” Remus crowed as he sprawled himself out on the couch. Anxiety curled his legs closer under his body, unresponsive- he knew full well that any reaction would just be an invitation for trouble from the obnoxious trait. He’d remember what Logan taught them: don’t engage, just brush it all off.

Unfortunately, Remus seemed to be in a stubborn mood.

“Whatcha watching?” 

“Movie,” Virgil grumbled. 

“What movie?”

He eyed the side laying out on the couch below him, narrowing his gaze as threateningly as he could manage. He spat the words through gritted teeth and made it clear he was not having this today.

“It’s called Terrifier.”

Remus perked up at that, and oh God, if he was interested then he’d never go the fuck away.

“What’s it about?”

There wasn’t much Virgil could do but answer in as clipped a tone as he could; things hadn’t gotten too bad, too uncomfortable, yet. Maybe he could redirect Remus’ attention, if he was just boring and unresponsive enough?

“Just a cliche creepy clown flick. Not much to it.”

“Is it gory?” 

Virgil made a vaguely affirmative sound in his throat, gesturing to the screen. In truth, the movie’s impeccable special effects with gore was its main appeal, as the acting and plot was kinda atrocious. Violence was the exact reason he’d chosen to watch this. But he knew saying that wouldn’t help his chances of shaking off Intrusive Thoughts.

Remus looked ready to spout off something explicit, but he went dead quiet as his eyes fell on the scene on the television. Virgil was grateful for small mercies.

It was exactly the kind of thing that the creative trait would watch, after all; a woman getting sawed in half, lengthwise, starting from the- er, the wrong end. Under circumstances of a more typical anxious flare-up, the scene really could have been one of those ‘helpful distractions’. 

These were not normal circumstances.Yeah, this was one of those ‘too passive’ cases, but Virgil didn’t exactly have the energy for anything ‘active’. So, he stubbornly glared at the TV and pretended that his solution was working, because he had no idea what else to do. Perfect plan.

Preoccupied as he was with his internal issues, he very nearly managed to forget about Remus. Until-

“Holy fuck, this is gorgeous, you watch stuff like this?!” The Duke’s eyes were bright, but not with his usual hysteria. They were wide with genuine excitement, shiny and happy. It was- uncanny, that’s probably the word Virgil was looking for. He curled closer in on himself.

“Shouldn’t be that surprising, dude. ‘Scary’ is kind of my thing.”

“I can’t believe I haven’t seen this one,” the creative side was once again completely enamored by the television screen, “Don’t blood and guts and cool things like that freak you out? They always seem to do the trick when I try to mess with you!” 

“It’s different. The violence in movies, it- it calms me down, I guess. Cause it’s like, I don’t know, detached from reality?”

There was a pause that had Virgil hoping, naively, that Remus had grown bored at his spiel. But he wasn’t moving, he was just staring, gaze switching contemplatively from the screen to Virgil a few times over.

“It doesn’t look like that. If you were any more tense, all your tendons would be snapping like badly-tuned violin strings!” 

“Yeah, no shit,” Virgil pressed his back against the wall and shut his eyes tight. He could still hear- no, feel- Patton and Roman and Thomas arguing, snapping at each other back and forth as the situation escalated.

“Is this about whatever the others are doing? Why don’t you just stop listening to their shitty arguments?”

A harsh laugh escaped Virgil at that, dragging him back down to earth so he could blink his eyes open, glaring at the facet lying beneath him. 

“I can’t just stop, that’s not how I work. I need to keep an ear on them. Who knows what could happen if I didn’t?”

“Well, why don’t you just go talk to them?”

If he wasn’t already frustrated beyond belief, that would’ve fuckin’ done it for him.

“I don’t think I’d be much help. Not right now.”

“Why not?” Remus looked halfway between genuinely curious and mischievous, propping himself up on his elbows to get a better view of Anxiety.

“Seriously? Things aren’t exactly, like- normal between all of us.”

“What is normal?” 

Virgil opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came through. As much as it sounded like an offhanded, edgy 13-year-old atheist kind of remark, it was a decent point. Virgil had thought that there was something of a status quo forming between himself and the ‘light sides’, but how long had that even lasted for? Especially compared to the rest of his life? Everything was changing all the time. Was there anything to rely on, or was it just Virgil’s own wishful thinking for what their lives could be? After all, even in ‘peaceful times’, there had been plenty of in-fighting and disagreements and horrible uncomfortable conversations and harsh words and-

“Oh, shut that brain up,” Remus’ sharp voice pulled Virgil from his thoughts, “I know what you meant ‘normal’. You meant the six months when you got to forget about us Scary Monsters, and, DUH! It was probably way simpler for all you diet-soda-no-sugar sluts back then, but that doesn’t mean it was better.”

“Yeah, you would think that things are better now, wouldn’t you?”

Remus fixed Virgil with an unsettling sort of grimace, making the other squirm. It wasn’t the first time he’d done so by any means. 

“I dunno, but what I do know is that things are getting better. They’ll be the best they could be, soon.”

Despite himself, Virgil laughed. It was a faltering, anxious sound, revealing the true fear behind the taunting gesture.

“Really? With everybody at each other’s throats all the time?”

“While that does sound fun,” Remus sat up fully, twisting around to look directly up at Virgil, “I mean after that. After we’re all accepted. It’s inevitable- Inevitable, Anxious Lil’ Barista,” Remus accompanied the referential nickname with a wink. 

Virgil stared at him like he was crazy (well- like- crazier than usual, he guessed?). Remus just threw his head back and laughed before spinning his neck one-hundred and eighty degrees to face the TV while he explained.

“Point is, it’s painfully obvious that everything will sort itself out. It has to, or else the only other option is that Thomas is gonna drive himself insane by trying to suppress parts of himself and end up clawing his own brain out. One of those two things!”

While colorfully phrased, the certainty with which Remus delivered his point had Virgil taken aback. There was no way that Remus could possibly know that, but- in a backwards way it was comforting, how sure he sounded. He didn’t lie, not ever.

Virgil had never thought that Remus would settle for anything less than going out of his way to make others’ lives a hell. But maybe that antagonism wasn’t what exactly motivated the trait’s actions. Maybe it was just an unintentional side effect, akin to what Logan had said when Remus first revealed himself.

The moment of reprieve was over as soon as it began.

“Fuck! He just cut off her tits and wore ‘em, huh?” 

Virgil looked up and, to be fair, that was exactly what had happened on screen. Like he said, this movie wasn’t exactly poetic cinema, but it certainly was something. 

He scooted along the top of the couch, moving just a few feet before dropping down to sit properly beside Remus.

“3/10 drag look at best, really,” Virgil muttered, mostly to himself. He jumped when Remus shrieked with laughter at it, looking absolutely delighted. 

“I didn’t know you made jokes like that, VeeVee!”

Virgil shrugged noncommittally, focusing on the screen and not the facet beside him. Remus’ giggling was loud and distracting, but it wasn’t… unpleasant, unlike his typical villain-cackle was. 

Once Remus had settled down (as much as somebody like him could, anyway), he, too, focused on watching. The quiet was uncomfortable, but it didn’t stretch on for long. There was always something in the movie that The Duke felt the need to comment upon extensively, elaborating and giving details on the gore. Virgil found himself listening to the rants silently, almost enjoying the disruption. It certainly gave his overactive mind something to play around with.

“-skin doesn’t slice as easy as that, trust me-”

Aaaand there it was. Virgil winced, trying very hard not to show that the words had struck a nerve. He liked horror, gore, all that, sure, but there were just some specific things- squicks, you could call them. Remus would obviously use that to his advantage, so the only option was to try very hard to zone out and not look like he was disturbed.

“But even then- Hey, why are you making that face?”

Mission failed.

“Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

Remus shifted closer- invasively closer, his gaze studying. 

“You were calming down earlier, what's with the scrunch-nose?”

Virgil stared at his hands, chipping away his black nail polish. Remus was nearly as good at reading lies as Janus, and twice as hard to get rid of.

“It's just- skin, slicing, that stuff just-” he ticked, head spasming sideways briefly at even the thought of that kind of pain.

“Oh,” Remus said plainly, not even a hint of malice or mischief in his tone as he leaned back into his own spot, “Why didn't you just say so? Well, that last exploding head kill is way more interesting anyway, did you see that?”

That was… it? No taunting, no tormenting, he just changed the topic, like that? 

Remus, continuing to be weirdly perceptive, scoffed as though he was reading Virgil’s mind.

“What? Just because I like screwing with you prudes sometimes doesn't mean I want to give you a panic attack. Where's the fun in that?”

Anxiety nodded mutely, bewildered. Remus seemed appeased by that and quickly resumed his running commentary.

And if Virgil eventually decided to take part in the discussion, well, it wasn’t a big deal anyway. Just some polite conversation about bodily mutilation.

 The television darkened as the screen was washed by credits, filling the space where the disfigured face of the main character had been mere moments prior, the result of a pretty predictable twist ending. Virgil stood, arching his back up in a stretch. His arms raised higher, one joint or another crackling at the motion. Fuck, he was sore. How long had he been sitting still?

Remus hadn’t moved from his spot on the couch. He tapped his claws along the remote, exiting to the homescreen and looking expectantly at Virgil.

“You don't wanna watch anything else?” He asked abruptly, drawing a confused glance from his companion, “This is fun- and they're still arguing up there, so it kinda makes sense to stay, it’s really the best solution if you-”

Virgil huffed a laugh at the rambling. It sounded like some shit he’d say, for crying out loud.

“Dude, chill, I was just gonna make some tea before putting on another movie,” the clear relief that ran across Remus' face- quickly replaced by a wide grin- wasn't anything shy of… sweet. Virgil was sure this day couldn't get any fucking weirder, if he was finding anything endearing about the walking talking dirty joke before him. “Uh, you want anything? Since you're gonna stick around, and all.”

Remus jumped up, following Virgil into the MindPalace’s small kitchen happily. In one smooth motion, he swung up onto the counter and slid down it, seating himself almost on top of the stove.

“No hot leaf soup for me, thanks, but I will take one of those mugs!”

Virgil raised a brow, staring the creative trait down before shrugging. He passed him one of the mugs, a generic and patternless one- so that the other sides probably wouldn't notice its absence. He busied himself by setting up the kettle, trying not to wince at the loud wet crunch that resulted when Remus took a bite of his snack.

“Hey,” Remus said around a mouthful of ceramic chunks, “I know just the movie we should watch next.”

Virgil shifted around the various tea boxes littering the cabinets, searching for something with a kick. He hazarded a glance to Remus, immediately regretting the decision when he saw the blood dribbling down his chin from the cuts marring his lips. Anxiety cringed, turning his head back and grabbing for the first brightly-colored box he saw. It took him a moment to respond.

“Okay… what is it?” 

“It's awful- I mean, really, the acting is unbearable and it’s fucking insane- but it's funny. You like making fun of stuff, right? It's like that, but there's still a ton of agonizing death, which is always a fun bonus.”

“What's it about?” Virgil was hesitantly intrigued, his gaze flicking up from the steadily heating kettle. He wasn't exactly keen on staring down the gory scene of Remus’ mouth, so he settled his focus on the trait’s eyeball brooch. 

“Uhn-uhn! No spoilers, this is one you have to see for yourself. It's funnier that way.”

Virgil made a noncommittal sound, tapping his nails against the counters.

“Nothing too bad happens- not that you can't handle, anyway. No slicing and not many jumpscares.”

He resisted the urge to snap 'how do you know what I can’t handle?' because Remus actively trying to reassure him was. Something. Something that he appreciated, maybe, a little.

“Okay, fine. I didn't have anything else in mind. A ‘So-Bad-It’s-Good’ thing sounds alright.”

The obnoxious gnawing of Remus destroying what was left of his cup suddenly ceased, replaced by a stunned silence. Virgil finally met his eyes (finding that the lacerations around Remus’ mouth were already healing themselves, as if they'd never existed).

“You’re taking my suggestion?”

Virgil cleared his throat, finding himself unable to break the intense eye-contact now that it had been established.

“It's not a big deal or anything, man. Just a movie.” 

Remus nodded enthusiastically, a grin splitting his face ear-to-ear. Very literally. The expression was so unnatural and cartoonish on a human(ish) face, that Virgil couldn't help but be startled into laughter. Remus looked even more delighted at that reaction, leaning forward over the stove. At that point, Virgil very much couldn't suppress the noises, snorts bubbling up from his throat against his will.

“You look-” another bout of chuckling, “-you look ridiculous, Remus.”

“Aw, thank you! I was going for manic, but I'll settle for that, too.”

Virgil rolled his eyes, hunching in on himself to get his breathing back to normal. 

With no warning, Remus lifted himself up onto his knees and craned his body around the vigilant trait, snatching the kettle from the stove and flipping the dial to ‘off’. Instinctively, Anxiety recoiled from the proximity. The tension fell away when he saw that the other was simply pouring the hot water into Virgil’s mug for him.

“Dude, it wasn't whistling yet?”

“I know; it was hissing like it was about to start. You're boring and don't like loud noises, especially when you’re all on edge like this, so,” he set the kettle back down, passing the warm mug to Virgil. 

Virgil stared at him, then at the drink in his hand, then back up at the Duke. He was, for what felt like the millionth time that day, unsure of how to react.

He… really hadn't thought that Remus would pick up on stuff like that. He should probably start getting used to that, maybe.

“I'm-” Virgil dragged his finger up and down the handle of his mug, “I'm not that on edge anymore, actually.”

The look that Remus sent him was indecipherable. 

“C’mon, I’ll queue up that flick I told you about.”

“Yeah,” Virgil let out a deep breath, one he hadn't even known he'd been holding, “Yeah, okay.”

 The floor was bubbling, popping, blistering with red fury. It was lava, sending bright flaming sparks in all directions. Thankfully for Remus and Virgil, sitting close together on the couch and viciously mocking cabin fever, the vicious rage was exclusive to one small circle near the staircase.

Virgil, who had been happily tearing apart the leading guy’s acting, cut himself off abruptly.

“Shit- wait- shit.”

Remus shook himself out of his raucous laughter, looking up in confusion. His eyes finally settled on the crimson patch of carpet, a look of realization crossing them. His voice turned much quieter than what fit him.

“Oh, fuck.”

It was like a volcanic eruption localized entirely within the living room, fire blazing in a tall column. From the emotional display, Roman rose up, face nearly as red as his method of transportation. 

There was that brief moment, right when a stressful situation appeared, of antithetical serenity. Virgil felt his muscles slacken in shock, his long-empty mug falling from his hands and landing on the carpet with a dull thud. A rush of calmness hollowed out his chest, lingering for just a few seconds before being replaced by panic. Tension returned to his limbs mere moments after that, like it was pulling him taut.

Roman wasn't even looking at them- in fact, he hadn't seemed to notice his brother or best friend at all. The fire fell back down, leaving a charred patch of carpet that would likely take a long time to repair itself. The passionate trait growled, a sound that bordered on a scream as he clawed his hands down his face. He stamped his boot sharply against the ground, igniting another small fire with the impact.

“Fuck!” He cried, ever oblivious to his audience. With a hasty wave, the flames flickered and disappeared. Roman glared down at the blackened spot where it had been, winding his arms tightly around himself. He took a few shaky breaths, but if anything he only looked worse off for it.

“Fuck,” this time spoken quieter, but with no less vitriol. An immaculately-manicured hand raised itself to cover his mouth, tightening around his face desperately as tears slipped from his eyes down his fingers. He turned on his heel and took the stairs two at a time.

In his wake, as the television had been paused, the only thing that Virgil could hear was buzzing in his skull.

What had happened? What was happening, currently?! Things had gone so wrong and it was all because of Virgil’s negligence- what bad things could have been prevented if he had just been there? Or- or even just listening in! When had he even stopped listening? He was supposed to protect them but he just gave up, just because he ‘couldn't handle it’, and now something was Wrong with Roman and he couldn't even focus on listening to them all now, not like this. He couldn’t hear, couldn’t hear or see anything at all.

A rough, calloused hand wrapped around his wrist. Virgil's shallow breath staggered even more at the feeling, the warbly noise of speech failing to meet his ears. His eyes were closed tight, he realized, stinging with emotion behind his eyelids.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Four seconds, four strikingly gentle presses against the vein of Virgil’s wrist. If it weren't for the slight edge of a claw, he could've confused the motion for one of Patton’s.

The four taps were followed by a brief pause, then a steady round of seven taps. Another pause, and then eight. As Virgil focused, as much as he could anyway, on the presses, the screaming of his mind very gradually abated. First, he pried his eyes open, staring down at the hand around his arm. Watching the tapping, feeling it, was grounding enough for his hearing to return in time. Virgil could hear Remus beside him, breathing deeply as a guide, and copying the exercise became that much easier. In for four, hold  for seven, out for eight. Repeat. And repeat. And repeat.

Remus didn't stop when Virgil did it properly one time over, when he was still shaking and teary. He didn't speak up even when the well behind Anxiety's eyes ran dry, after what had to be a dozen rounds of even breaths. It was only when Virgil finally, hesitantly slipped his wrist out of the other's grasp on his own terms that Remus made any sounds.

“Do you remember when you taught me to do makeup? Late teens, early twenties, around then?”

Talk about a topic shift. Virgil glanced up in confusion.

“I guess so? Wasn't that, like, the only time that we hung out and actually got along?” They’d never exactly been close, Virgil had made sure of that. It was, in retrospect, a regrettable decision on his part.

“Yeah. I was so bad at it, remember?”

“Hell yes, I remember,” Virgil felt a tiny smirk tug his lips at the memory, “You literally never sat still. You were and are the most impatient person I've ever met.”

“I’ve gotten a lot better, Vee.”

Virgil glanced at the bruise-like eyeshadow circling the Duke's eyes, but refrained from saying anything. Knowing him (kind of knowing him? Starting to know him better now? Whatever.) it was most definitely intentionally off-putting, and probably not a good way to judge his actual ability.

“But I’ve seen how you do it, when you really, really try; I think you're still better than me with it, ju-u-ust barely.”

“Oh, uh, thank you,” Virgil wasn't entirely sure where this was going, but he couldn't find the soft excitement in Remus’ eyes anything other than enticing. The creative side laughed, flapping his hand.

“It would be fun if you did it for me again! Just like old times, ey?”

Virgil stared at him, considering him carefully.

“You want me to do your makeup?” 

“Yes!” Remus leaned forward with his confirmation, but for once that didn't involve violating Virgil’s post-panic attack bubble, “It'll give you something to do with your hands other than peeling back all your skin, at the very least.”

Oh, right. Virgil not-so-subtly lifted his nails from his palms, wincing at the irritated red spots coloring his hands.

Truth be told, the idea wasn't… unappealing. It was an activity well between mindless and active, repetitive and artistic. Plus, he didn't exactly love being alone after attacks, and if anything Remus would be lively company. Company that he sort of, maybe, possibly was looking forward to spending the rest of the day with anyway, unfortunate events notwithstanding.

“Yeah, alright, if you're sure you want-”

“Great! Wait right there, bee-arh-bee,” before the words were even fully out of his mouth, Remus went limp and fell sideways off of the couch, falling right through the floor. 

In his absence, there was a void where his noise had been. Virgil stared at the paused movie scene, picking apart the little details of the frame just to have something to do. His mind drifted off to the state that Roman had been in when he entered. The sight of his friend so furious burned itself on the backs of Virgil’s eyelids. He knew that the anxiety wasn't all his own, either; he could feel it like waves from the other side of the MindPalace, the origin point clearly belonging to Roman.

He should check on him, shouldn't he? Or would that make it worse? Virgil certainly didn't feel like he was in any state to help. But then there was Patton to consider- something must have happened up there. Should he look for him, too?

There was a whoosh.

“I leave you alone for five seconds and you get right back to thinking!” Remus strode across the room, flopping right back onto the couch. Held in his arms was an enormous multi-pocketed bag, items clattering around within at every jostle their owner made.

“Overthinking is literally my whole job, man, this shouldn't surprise you,” Virgil shrugged, trying not to sound as relieved as he felt.

Remus simply rolled his eyes and dropped the makeup case onto Virgil's lap, sitting criss-cross parallel to him, their knees brushing slightly.

Virgil hesitated for a moment, scanning Remus' face, but all the other did was smile and blink (one eye at a time). 

Virgil zipped open the bag, rifling through and finding an overwhelming array of gaudy colors and odd products.

“Was there, like, a 'look' that you want to go for?”

Remus shrugged.

“Just go for it! I’m a blank canvas. The worse, the better.”

Virgil chuckled, picking out a few items to fit a theme he was coming up with and getting right to work.

Though it had been years since they’d last spent time together, it wasn’t awkward. In fact, it felt more comfortable than it had back then.

Remus managed to sit almost perfectly still, chattering the entire time that Virgil worked. Yet again his voice served as something like white-noise, wherein Anxiety only had to contribute whenever he chose. Remus only quieted when Virgil had to hold his face, tipping his head back to properly apply inky-black lipstick. And then, he remained silent for a moment, as they surveyed each other. 

Virgil had cleared his throat, warmth prickling at his ears, and the ceaseless rambling resumed after that.

In what felt like hours and no time at all, Virgil was finally satisfied with his work.

“Alright, you're all done,” he capped the bottle of mascara in his hand, rifling through Remus' bag for a mirror, “Wanna see?” 

Just as he felt the unmistakable cool surface of glass on his fingertips, Remus grabbed his wrist in both hands. 

“What-?”

“Not so fast! Now it's my turn,” he announced, his zealous eyes even more prominent on his face thanks to the thick wings of eyeliner around them. 

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Virgil looked from the assortment of garish colors that he'd mostly stayed away from in the makeup case, and then back up at the Duke.

“Usually: yes. But I am dead serious right now, Vee.”

Remus looked pleading, legitimately pouting. 

Virgil huffed. The side had gone out of his way to help him, when he really didn't have to, so…

“You're not going to just use this as an excuse to draw all over my face, are you?”

“I mean, no promises that I'll be able to restrain myself, but! Gimme a chance anyway, I can make you even hotter than you already are! Plus, we'll match then.”

“... Fine. Just- nothing too crazy, alright?”

“Again, no promises.”

Virgil groaned, but he still passed the bag to Remus.

 “Holy shit...”

Remus leaned over the basin of the bathroom sink, drumming his hands on the counter excitedly. He was starry-eyed as he observed the dark, dramatic colors covering his face: metallic emerald-green eyeshadow, excessively long lashes, and winged eyeliner sharp enough to cut a bitch. His lips were black as void, but shimmered like glitter. Everything about the look was dangerous, confrontational, and grim. 

“This is more out there than I’d usually wear, but. Yeah, holy shit.”

Virgil's expression, despite his best efforts, was equally awed as he peered into the mirror. The color around his eyes was mismatched; a lime to moss green gradient over his purple eye, lavender to royal violet over his green one- both colors contrasted by smudged black eyeliner under his eye. His signature Racoon Look had been maintained in that aspect, but it was even more exaggerated. In addition to that, Remus had taken to drawing various little symbols along Virgil's cheekbones, including things like upside-down crosses. Finally, there was the fuchsia lip-gloss, stark against Virgil’s paler-than-normal foundation. 

“It’s okay, I guess,” Virgil breathed reverently. 

“I love it!” Remus crowed, clambering onto the counter just to get a better look at himself. Somehow, he'd already managed to smudge the hell out of his eyeshadow, but it kinda… worked for him, if Virgil was being honest.

“Vee, we have got to do this more often!”

Virgil looked from his reflection to Remus', startled in a way he didn't entirely understand. The intrusive facet met his gaze through the mirror, the smile sliding off his face when Virgil didn’t respond to him.

“Right, Raggedy-Anx? It doesn't have to be this, specifically, if you really don't want to. We could just watch movies together, that's fine. Or we could do anything at all! Right?”

Virgil was still silent, lost in his mind. Remus fell from a kneeling position to sitting with his legs hanging off the counter, turning his back to the mirror.

“Was this a one-time thing? That's alright, too, if you just needed help calming down. I'm not as good as the others, I know, but if they're ever too busy again, you'll think of me when you need help, at least. Right?”

Finally, Virgil snapped out of his daze when he heard the panicked edge to Remus’ voice, feeling his anxiety as Virgil noticed the wild look that had completely erased his giddiness. It was a look that Virgil had seen plenty of times before, when Remus had been ignored far too long and was right about to start ripping things to shreds for some scraps of attention. Only then did Virgil fully recognize what the expression actually meant; the deep, terrified need that swirled behind the look, unsure of how to ask for what it really wanted after so many denials of that very want. 

“Shit, sorry,” Virgil moved to stand in front of him, eye-level to Remus even though he was elevated by the counter, “Hey, it's alright, Re, everything's fine.”

Remus was still trying very determinedly to smile.

“I know! Hell, I’m not the anxious one, I'm the one that makes people anxious,” his laugh sounded like it came from a throat full of broken glass, “I just- I liked this, ya know?”

“I know,” Virgil leaned forward, coaxing Remus' arms away from where he'd wrapped them around himself, “I like this, too.”

Remus let Virgil hold onto him, surprised into something like obedience.

“You? What?”

“I like this,” it wasn't as though Virgil was expecting to hug Remus, but it seemed to have happened on its own as they moved. It was leagues nicer than he could have imagined, despite the smell. “I like you…-r company.”

“That's weird,” Remus' legs curled around Virgil’s waist. Virgil rested his hands on Remus’ hips. He listened as the creative trait's breathing evened out, vaguely aware that the situation was similar to the one just an hour or so before. Except, the roles had been reversed, of course.

“I missed you. I know I never told you, but I missed you.”

Virgil felt guilt, hot and molten, dripping down his throat. He couldn't lie; he hadn't missed Remus when he left. But now he did, in a roundabout sort of way. He missed what could have been, all of the possible understanding and friendship and likely more that he could have had for so long with Remus- all of which he'd let slip by for years. Due to just writing the artist off as disgusting, or unnecessary. 

And perhaps some of that misunderstanding was Remus' fault as well, but Virgil couldn’t find it in himself to hold it against him.

“You don't have to anymore. Miss me, I mean. I'm- fuck, I'm so sorry.”

“Me too,” Remus said, pulling back to settle Virgil with a happy-yet-tearfilled gaze.

“Aw, hey,” he tightened his grip at Remus' hips, smirking, “You're gonna fuck up all my hard work on that eyeliner, Re.”

Remus laughed, loud and shrieky and him, smiling unnaturally and brilliantly wide once again. Virgil's breath caught in his throat- not for the first time that day, he found himself trapped up in that wild, energetic face.

Before Virgil was entirely aware of what he was doing, he was leaning forward, pulling Remus in by the waist. When the cackling finally stopped short, so did he, both much too far and far too close to the Duke. 

He didn't have the chance to explain himself, or apologize, or anything, because soon enough understanding flashed in Remus' eyes.

“Oh, oh yes, oh hell fucking yes.” 

Remus didn’t wait a second longer before closing the distance and smashing his lips against Virgil’s. A startled sound bubbled up in his throat, dying quickly as he acclimated to what was happening. Just as he did, he was reciprocating the kiss. 

Their teeth clashed together uncomfortably, and Virgil was hyper-aware of the threat both his own and Remus’ fangs posed if they weren’t careful, making it far from the perfect first kiss. But he wouldn’t have wanted that anyway, nor would he have expected it. It was, somehow, better. 

Remus' hand dragged down Virgil's back, his fingers fitting onto the notches of the facet’s spine. Virgil shivered, pressing himself flush against the counter (and Remus) and digging his thumbs into the trait’s hips. The motion earned him a beautiful whine from the other as the kiss deepened, growing less awkward and more heated by the second.

Virgil was unaware of how much time was passing, but when they finally parted, both were short of breath and significantly disheveled. Remus had his back pressed up against the mirror, his hair even fuzzier than its usual state, expression dazed and face flushed. From what Virgil could make out in his own reflection, he wasn't much better off. 

Just as soon as they'd separated, Remus' hand was on his face, his thumb dragging just under Anxiety's lip.

“You fucked up your lipstick,” he teased.

“So did you,” Virgil answered with a smirk, leaning into the touch. 

“I guess we'll have to fix it later.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” Remus wriggled himself out of his pinned position, twisting around Virgil. He managed to situate himself and drop down from the bathroom counter, his manner suggestive, “Because all I wanna do right now is finish watching Cabin Fever with my new goth boyfriend and makeout during the boring parts.”

“Boyfriend?” Virgil ignored the jolt of warmth he felt at that, determined to stay nonchalant as he (subtly (not subtly)) slipped his hand into Remus’.

“You disagree?” 

Virgil pretended to think it over, leading them to the door and taking his time to click it open. 

“Nah, I don’t disagree,” he said finally, “I think I like the sound of that, actuall- yyyy.”

Virgil stopped short in the open doorway, voice dragging out in his shock. Behind him, he could feel Remus trying to crane around him to see what was happening, but Virgil didn’t move to accommodate him. Well, more accurately, he felt like he couldn’t really move at all, too busy parsing out the scene in front of him.

In the corner of the sectional- sharing a cushion- Janus and Patton sat, the former holding aloft a glass of wine, the latter snacking on a muffin. They sat with their legs tangled together, and had seemed to be engrossed with each other before the interruption. Both had paused mid-conversation to gawk in Virgil's direction, twin deer-in-headlights expressions on their faces. 

“What-” Virgil began, bewildered.

“The fuck?” Remus finished, pushing his way out of the bathroom.

Janus struggled to sit up into a more dignified position and take the reigns of the conversation. It didn't take him long to overcome his surprise at the interruption, his surveying gaze sweeping over the other two Dark Sides contemplatively. The look made Virgil’s skin crawl. 

“You know, we- well, we could ask you two-” he gestured at their interlocked hands, “-just the same question, couldn't we?” 

For a moment, there was silence. Virgil looked from Patton to Janus. Janus looked from Virgil to Remus. Patton looked at the wall like it was the most interesting thing in the world. Remus looked at everyone and broke the silence.

“You didn't see us,” he announced, sidestepping his way to the staircase and dragging Virgil along with him, “And we didn't see you.” 

Janus squinted, tipped his head, and nodded conspiratorially. 

“Deal.”

With that little grant, Virgil and Remus darted up the stairs and into the sanctuary of the dimly lit hallway as quickly as they could. Luckily for them, Roman was probably either in a deep depression sleep or far into the imagination by now, and Logan Did Not Engage with Interpersonal Drama if he could help it. 

There was a second for appreciating the absurdity of the situation (and catching their breath), before either spoke to each other.

“I’ve got a huge flat screen,” Remus piped up at last, jerking his thumb in the direction of his room. 

“Any of us can conjure literally anything we want at any time, so I'm not sure what's impressive about that.”

Remus scowled, albeit playfully.

“Hush! Come watch someone slowly be consumed by a parasite with me!”

Virgil rolled his eyes and let Remus drag him off, his complaints accompanied by absolutely no efforts to avoid the situation. 

Things were weird, there was no denying that. Maybe they'd end up being that way for a while yet, and Virgil knew he had a lot of news to catch up on, but he found that thoughts like that were way back in his mind. Whatever happened, he reasoned, he would still have this comfort. The arms of someone he was finally coming to know wrapped tight around him, playing up his back, a mouth trailing kisses on his neck as he half-watched horror films. Yes, things would be difficult with the others, but it was secondary.

There was someone on his side now. Solidly, unarguably there for him. With him. And that made it all feel a little bit easier.

[bokunoheroanalysisforthefuture]

And we’re back for the second chapter, which is a lot shorter than the last - only half the size, thank goodness. I have a feeling this will go by somewhat faster than the first chapter, if only because there’s so much less happening per chapter and less worldbuilding to pick at.

Being up to forty followers already is actually really neat - I was expecting this project to go under the radar a bit longer. Thank you for all the likes and comments, and especially the reblogs! 

[No. 2 - Roaring Muscles]

Have to admit that the title page is definitely something - it’s deliberately styled in the same format as Western comic book covers. And in so, you can really see the difference in art style between the Westernized All Might and Horikoshi’s normal style for Izuku. 

The next page is a full body shot of All Might posing (RIP all the pens that died inking that one image), with some background panels covering the basics about the man - that his age and quirk are unknown, and that his strength has made him popular even since his debut. He’s got a lot of merch, branding, magazine covers, newspaper headlines, movie adaptations, etc etc. and, of course, that creepy fucking mask.

If Izuku has one of those, I am both disappointed and completely not surprised. I both look forward to and dread the day someone draws him wearing that monstrosity. Also-

Is that the same keychain Ochako gets during the Secret Santa swap in some hundred and twenty or so chapters? 

Alright, not the same one, but a similar pose. Not surprising, since I doubt Hori even remembered this panel at the point Ochako was given it, but it would have been an interesting little callback if it had been.

Moving on, we learn that since he became active, there’s been a notable decrease in the appearance rate of villains - with a graph showing the decline. His existence alone is a deterrent to villainy, which in no way will cause issues decades down the line. But yeah, basically Izuku confirms that All Might’s earned his title of ‘Symbol of Peace’ - and that the same man with so many accolades just told him he could be a hero.

(That last panel, of just Toshinori and Izuku, which is so uncluttered compared to the other panels… mmm, gotta love it. Makes it feel so much more poignant and dreamlike, which it probably was to Izuku at the time.)

The next page gets right to where we left off, with Izuku on the ground crying his eyes out while his mind plays through all the doubts and negative words thrown at him over the past chapter years. However, he’s finally heard what he’s always wanted to hear from this Alolan Exeggutor lookin’ dude:

Who also happens to be the No. 1 hero and Izuku’s idol. Izuku wonders if he could wish for anything more than that, so of course, Exeg- I mean Toshinori continues on, saying Izuku is worthy of inheriting his power. Which snaps Izuku out of his happy crying to actually look up at his idol, confused as heck.

BABEY.

But yeah, Toshinori laughs at Izuku’s expression and says that it’s a proposal, and that there’s work to be done. Also, this is the first instance of ‘my boy’ shown in the manga - while I know in Japanese it’s supposed to be just a translation of ‘young man’ or something close, I choose to see it in a different manner, as per my Dad Might agenda:

Look, you have to admit things went from 0 to 100 real fucking fast here, I will not take criticism on my interpretation. While we’re on the topic of ‘0 to 100’:

Toshinori please get that checked that’s a lot of blood jesus fuck. But yeah, he offers Izuku his power (which outside a shounen manga is questionable, kids, don’t trust that.) Izuku is still confused, naturally, so Toshinori clarifies he means his quirk. He explains how the tabloids like to guess what his quirk is, while he avoids answering with jokes, because All Might has to come off as a natural born hero.

(Also that dramatic posing, he’s such a fucking loser, I love him so much.)

You can really fucking tell he’s a performer at heart. I feel like it fits with his love of movies too - he probably liked acting out the dramatic hero speeches and fights in old superhero movies. Which I mean, also makes sense since heroes in the current era are as much actors and performers as they are public servants who handle crime and disasters.

Toshinori explains his quirk was passed down to him like the Olympic torch, which Izuku mentally stumbles over, and when that is confirmed, Izuku falls into a dazed rambling over this, completely tuning out of the outside world; he thinks about all the previous theories put out there, then basically confirming that his power being passed on is nothing anyone has ever considered, in part because there’s so little known about quirks, and even the reason ‘quirk’ [which in Japanese is ‘Individuality’] is used, because they’re unique to the person who wields said power. 

(Also, I want to know what the other six mysteries of the world are, Izuku. Why won’t you share that important tidbit with us? Worry about the quirk later!)

Toshinori cuts into his rambling, asking if Izuku really doubts him and that it’s nonsense, he has secrets but he doesn’t outright lie. Izuku does snap out and try to apologize, but Toshinori continues on:

One For All. Certainly a power that comes with no downsides, hidden legacies, or enough mysteries to fill the other six damned slots of the mysteries of the world. Izuku repeats the name slowly, and Toshinori goes on to explain it: 

A small detail to note, there’s eight lights in the background, already revealing how many holders there currently are at this point. Notice how much weaker OFA must have been back at the beginning, compared to the power Toshinori has, and then expand that to what Izuku starts out with. And interestingly, it’s called a ‘crystalline network of power’, and that it ‘links those crying out to be saved and those with brave and true hearts.’ For our first description of OFA, it… sure seems poetic and almost romantic. Wonder if that will hold up in the chapters to come.

Anyways, moving on from that, Izuku asks why him, and Toshinori says he’s been looking for a successor, and that he believes Izuku worthy. Even as someone who is quirkless and a ‘mere hero admirer’, he was more heroic than anyone else there. Izuku tears up again, and Toshinori slaps himself in the forehead, saying it all depends on what Izuku says. 

Izuku gets to his feet and rubs away the tears, thinking about what he’s been told and how Toshinori’s greatest secrets (hah) have been divulged to him. He asks himself if he has reason to refuse, and immediately decides that no, he doesn’t, and tells Toshinori he accepts while reaffirming he’s got no reason to refuse. Toshinori says he expected nothing less than that quick answer. 

Seriously, look at the intensity of that reply, he is down and willing to do this. No second guessing, no hesitation. 

This seems like a good stopping point, since the second half of the chapter is all the training, including the montages, so I’ll finish things up in the next one (yes, I know, not taking five posts to get to the point, who would have thought?) and we can get into the crazy fun stuff. 

[ramblings-of-a-mad-cat]

HPHM Amortentia Scent Headcanons

Or as I like to put it, “Scentcanons!” ...I’ll show myself out. 

No but for real, I had an anon asking about this, so let’s dive in!

The question here is what would each character smell in Amortentia vs what another person would smell if they fancied said character. There are also certain characters who we have confirmed from canon. Finally, I’d like to clarify that I don’t think of Amortentia scents being exclusive to who one is attracted to romantically, just that it can go that way. I don’t want to get too deep into shipping, so any loved ones that turn up as scents probably aren’t going to be romantic interests. 

Rowan - We know they smell of parchment, ink, and lumber. As for what they would smell, I think we can safely assume they’d smell old books, tree sap, and probably Fuzzclaw? Speaking as someone who’s grown up with cats, they do have a unique and not unpleasant smell to them. Everything that reminds Rowan of home, and of what they love.

Ben - Someone who had feelings for Ben would probably smell the scent of dust, or if we want to be more poetic, petrichor. Yeah, I like that. It makes sense given how much he hides and sneaks around. As for Ben himself, I feel like he would be drawn to the scent of safer things. At least Pre-Portrait Vault. I’ve seen clean sheets, mint leaves/mint soap, and hot chocolate used as examples before, and all of them agree with me. 

Penny - I can imagine someone would smell whatever her perfume/conditioner is. Let’s go with honeydew, that kinda suits her.  Head-canons for what Penny herself would smell are the metallic scent of a Cauldron, the wildflowers from Kew Gardens (where she’s said her family visits) and also Beatrice’s hair. Come on, Bea is the person she loves the most, easily. 

Merula - Another canon confirmation, Merula smells of nail polish, cloves, and something “elusive.” (The MC/Merula hints continue, I swear to god.) As for what Merula herself would pick up on, I feel like it would be scents that are attractive, but also painful, if that makes sense? To suit her prickly nature. Stuff like smoke and soot, as well as poison ivy. On top of that, maybe something softer to counter-balance it, like pumpkin pie? 

Bill - I feel like Bill would smell of leather. Let me explain. While he’s usually depicted in a variation on his school uniform, we know from Harry’s description that he was “cool.” In HPHM, he doesn’t have the earring yet, but he does have the long hair. I feel like he’d smell of leather. As for Bill himself, gonna go with scents that remind him of home. Stuff like Molly’s cooking, his father’s jumper, even the gnomes out back. 

Andre - He totally wears perfume, he is the type. There are just certain characters (Penny is another) where you just know that’s a thing they do. So whatever type he wears, that’s what the Andre fans pick up on. For Andre himself? I’m gonna go with the scent of a sewing machine, as well as a broom shed, and maybe something that reminds him of his family, since he seems to be close with them. 

Tulip - As for Tulip’s scent, this is going to go full on fanon, and I’m going to say she smells like cherries. Because apparently when the writers were designing her wand, it was going to be made of cherry wood and be a family heirloom. I still think Sycamore suits her better, but I love that idea. As for the scents Tulip would find attractive, I’m going to go with ones that carry a hint of danger. Candle wax, for example, is always close to a fire. The scent of dungbombs feels like a given. If anyone likes it, Tulip would. Finally, I’m gonna go with pond water, because of Dennis.

Tonks - Anyone who fancies Tonks is probably going to pick up on the scent of Zonko’s. That is where she spends most of her time and does all her shopping, after all. As for what she would smell? I’m gonna say maybe a Wizarding candy, like Fizzing Whizbees. The packaging on something like a Fanged Frisbee. And even Filch’s office, because she has cherished memories of practicing mischief there.

Barnaby - Canon time, we know Barnaby smells like sandalwood and fresh laundry, which is just adorable. But I feel as though Barnaby would be drawn to the scent of the flowers and trees from the Reserve, as well as the old, dusty and musty smell of the Dueling Club. For a third scent I think I’ll go with the smell of Hagrid’s Hut. This is totally a head-canon, but I think they become very close friends. 

Ismelda - Well, this one is awkward. The game loves to make jokes about how she smells bad, but maybe to someone who’s in love with her, the scent would be nice? As odd as that sounds. Otherwise, who knows. She had to have cleaned up pretty nice for the Celestial Ball, right? As for Ismelda herself, this one is tricky. But like Merula, I think she’d be drawn to scents that have more of an edge. Fresh ink comes to mind, and perhaps burnt toast. Other than that? I’m not sure.

Charlie - This one also has canon to back it up, Charlie smells like honeysuckle and grass. As for what he would smell in Amortentia...okay, let's get the obvious out of the way right now. Whatever dragons smell like, that’s going to be one of his scents. Because I don’t care what canon says, he works with dragons in the Reserve. He just does. Other than that, I feel like maybe the metallic scent of a Snitch, because we know he’s a Seeker, and maybe the thistles of trees in the Forbidden Forest? He’s said to hang out there.

Liz - I’m pretty sure she’s supposed to smell like lake-water and hay? I cannot find the screenshots, but her scent was also confirmed by Care of Magical Creatures. In any case, Liz is a fairly straight-forward character to get a handle on. Her smells from Amortentia are mulch, (don’t judge her) as well as a Porlock’s fur, and the scent of vegetables. She’s an outdoorsy sort of girl and similar to Newt Scamander, seems to get along better with other creatures than humans.

Chiara - In terms of what someone would smell, I’d have to go with moonflowers. I know it’s the obvious choice, but how can I resist? As for Chiara herself, I’m going to go with fresh soil, hospital sheets, and dog fur. Reflecting her interests in Herbology and Healing, and also representing the sweetest baby to ever exist, Borf. I’ve seen head-canons that she would smell Wolfsbane potion, but it’s supposed to taste disgusting, so I doubt it.

Talbott - Likewise, I think it’s pretty clear that someone would smell the scent of bird feathers if they fancied Talbott. If that’s too cliche, go with whatever product he puts in his hair, since it’s always slicked back. As for what Talbott smells, I’d go with the scent of hay from the Owlery, maybe the quills that he writes his notes with, and finally the scent of his mother, or her necklace. Could be the same, at least as far as he remembers.

Jae - Anyone who fancies Jae is going to pick up his scent, so probably the scent of the Hogwarts Kitchens, since that’s where he spends most of his time. For Jae, okay...money has a unique scent. It just does. And he deals with it a lot, doing what he loves. So I’m gonna say the scent of galleons, turkey sandwiches, and maybe something with more of an edge, like Firewhiskey. Come on, we all know he’s tried it before.

Badeea - She’s a character I don’t know nearly as well, though I’d like to rectify that. I’m torn between saying that the scent of paint would be what someone else smells if they fancy her, or if it would be something that she herself smells because she loves painting. No reason it couldn’t be both. Other than that, she gives me the feeling that she’s someone who would be really into incense and various spices, like maybe sage. So it’s all chemicals with Badeea...make of that what you will.

Diego - I also don’t know him well enough to judge, but I am certain that he’s the type to wear cologne, so whatever it is that he’s wearing is what the Diego fans would pick up on. As for Diego himself, I’m gonna say the resin of a dance floor, the scent of denim (he wears a lot of it) and probably the smell of flowers? He does make a few casanova style lines about enjoying them. And not just the hellebore. 

Skye - No clue what Skye’s scent would be. Probably something strong Citrus. As for what she picks up on, gonna go with the scent of quaffles, ground coffee, and maybe the streets of Wigtown. I just feel like she doesn’t have much of a life outside of Quidditch and her legacy and has kind of turned herself into a machine to fulfil that life goal, without focusing on anything else. 

Murphy - Murphy smells like linen. Don’t ask me why, I just know that this is true. I can just feel it. It suits him. As to what Murphy himself picks up on, among other things he smells Kneazle fur, the wood of a chessboard, and the scent of chalk. I mean come on, this one one of the easier characters to figure out, give me a hard one. 

Orion - Someone who fancied Orion would seriously pick up on the scent of his hair, because that is some glorious hair. Orion himself would probably smell Jasmine Tea, Quidditch Grass, and the scent of sea salt. I’m not sure why exactly, but he’s a character who I’ve actually thought about this for before, and I think these scents are mystical enough but also give the suggestion of an overall healthy balance.

Rath - This is a case like Ismelda, where I don’t think anyone ever gets close enough to smell her, but more out of fear than the idea that she might smell unpleasant. But I feel like she smells like ginger. As for what she would pick up from Amortentia, the metallic scent of a bludger, as well as perhaps the scent of new robes, and maybe broomstick polish? Similar to Skye, I’m not sure. Not because she has no life outside of Quidditch, but we have no idea what it entails if she does.

Beatrice - I feel like anyone who fancied Beatrice (We are not getting into the debate of who that might be) would probably pick up the smell of her makeup? Because she wears a lot of it now, seemingly every day. As for what she would pick up on herself? I’m gonna say the scent of puffskeins, since she seems to be a fan of them and have one of her own. As well as the scent of the library, but specifically the Restricted Section, because I feel like she regularly breaks in. Finally, hmm...maybe something to do with home? Perhaps a fresh baked pie that her parents made? Just throwing out ideas. 

Covered as many characters as I could think of, and there were only so many scents that occurred to me, aha. I hope this helps though, anon!

[akvtsuki-ari]

A Study In Body Language | ii. tidal separations

Warnings: depictions of opioid withdrawal/drug use (there's a mention of needles), general warnings for drug addiction and arguing. 

Length: 4.4k 

Authors Note: After abandoning this fic for like? a year? I’m back at it. I really love this concept a lot and I think the end result will be good so please stick with me and read it! Promise it’ll be good <33

Plot Summary: Spencer takes time off and you’re worried about what the future holds. Maybe it’s moral obligation that leads you to take care of Reid as he works through his vices, but maybe there's something more to it. You can’t say for sure. 

Chapter 1 

Story Preface:  In the altruistic language of foreign tongue, and the flower lettering of love stories, it's important to remember the context. In which Spencer Reid and you will fall in love under the circumstantial evidence that the two of you exchange in the language that is physical, no symbolism or hidden messages but instead an abysmal means to end to find each other in places you never expect. In the image of storytelling, this is a Case Study In Body Language, and all of it's idealist beliefs and intentions. 

_______________

Midnight was detrimental to the human mind. The evidence of that was concise in the car ride between you and Dr. Spencer Reid. The space between tangible with tension and bubbling, simmering anger. 

Your hands were fastened around the steering wheel, knuckles pale white. Spencer was sitting with his knees away from you - teeth gritted together in a symphony of misplaced emotions and projection. The silence was deafening - both of you looking at anything but the other person with angry and nonsensical confusion. The wind was blurring your eyesight as you drove down the highway to Spencer's apartment, an uncomplicated endeavor that suddenly had some great stakes to it that neither of you could prepare for. Every detail was carefully placed in order to cause the most destruction. The sound of the bottles in the back clicking together, the silence of the entire city at 3am you and Spencers generally disheveled appearance. All things that seem culminated together to create a perfect disaster - it was almost poetic. 

Spencer cleared his throat, swallowing his pride as he turned his head to look at you. You were entirely still - nothing was moving except the fact he could see your toes curling in your shoes. It was a rapid and anxious movement, a way for the emotion to escape you while not showing anything else. Your jaw was forcibly still like you were telling yourself to keep it still. You were, gritted teeth and fists just begging to pound on Spencer's chest and knock some fucking sense into him. 

Spencer folds first, the silence begging to cut your tightrope friendship entirely. This outcome was beyond your words and description - neither unexpected or catastrophic, but rather heavy. A heavyweight on the both of your shoulders, tied to each other in social contract. Was it respect that kept your hands away from your phone the second you saw? Was it friendship? Or was it something bigger, much more vast than either of you that was bordering indescribable. The silence begged many questions, but most of all it begged to broken. You and Spencer forced to put the pieces together. 

“Y/N, listen,” his voice was calm - it was clear this speech was well-practiced and it pissed you off further. You shut your eyes with exasperation, as your tongue swipes the back of your teeth, physically trying to hold it back from calling him a fucking dumbass. You still might, but a selfish part of you was urged to just wait and hear his explanation. 

“I’m fine - but please don’t tell the team, I don’t need them worrying about me,” Spencer rushed the words as if they were being beaten out of him. You laugh angrily and swerve your car into a parking lot on the next turn. Spencer looks at you curiously as you stop in - opening his mouth to speak, words replaced quickly with the sound of your voice. 

“Oh, are you fucking kidding me? Are you genuinely fucking serious?,” your voice is beyond angry. Spencer's defense raises as he realizes the situation - as both of you play the other side of the court. 

“I seriously cannot believe you - I knew you were a selfish prick, but fucking seriously? Jesus Christ, Spencer what do you think happens now?,” your voice borders a scream as you look at him, eyes blurry, fingers shaking. You want to hit him, punch him, anything to knock him to his sense but you don’t, the urge pulsating through your every nerve. 

“What are you talking about? You were the one following me but this has nothing to fucking do with you! You’re supposed to just leave this alone, and I’m asking you a favor - what is complicated about that? This doesn’t concern you, so stay out of it!,” His voice is laced with dishonesty, hidden by anger but his selfishness prompts your frustration further. You want to correct him, to get it through his thick skull that this is bigger than him and you - that this has to do with the team and people he cares for but you’re too frustrated. 

“I seriously can’t fucking believe you and to be honest, I cannot deal with having this conversation with someone so fucking stupid - I’m throwing away your stash and dropping you off at home - I’ll deal with you tomorrow,” you say exasperated. You were sick for fucksake, nose still dripping and voice already hoarse from before. Too many demons in your own life for you to fight his at 3am. Not tonight anyway. 

“No, you can’t throw it away,” his voice nearly reads as a plea but you shoot him a look - one so sharp you suspect if you acted on that expression, he’d knocked out with a bruise on him.

The rest of the car ride passes in total silence, no gritting of teeth or anger left, all replaced with different kinds of exhaustion. Different kinds of frustration creating this chokehold on both of you as the long night become darker by nature - maybe as a show and tell for the plays that both of you are forced to make. To look into another's darkness without warning is a scary place to be, Both of you find yourself to explore together - the consequences were still unclear. 

You dropped Spencer off at his apartment, and you drive home. Comforted by the solitude but unable to focus on anything but the road without feeling fear stir in your chest. The feeling wasn’t out of place but it wasn’t what you were expecting. 

You feel your throat tightening as you walk into your own apartment, and walk into your kitchen - putting on coffee and rubbing your face with exasperation. The sleeplessness is replaced with jittery caffeination as you watch the sunrise through the window of your apartment. The darkness still seems to wane - but maybe that was the exhaustion talking.

__ 

Work called in like expecting but the morning lacked any feeling of normalcy expected. You were less angry now, surely. Everything was left feeling sticky in a sense - a long term discomfort surrounding everything you did, and the only thing that would relieve it would be seeing Spencer. After the anger subsided you just hoped he didn’t do anything stupid, but you weren’t close enough for the two of you to just talk or for you to text him. So you spent the whole night looking at lots of nothing while your mind went a hundred different places trying to figure out how you got here. 

Walking into the BAU was helpful - it was grounding, a well-needed kind of sanity. You were one of the few people on earth that was comforted by a place many would consider dark, but it was home. A home with people to hold you still, and love to make you weep, something you didn’t normally experience. Something you’d never really experienced before, anyways. 

Emily is the first to greet you, looking at you intently before laughing - partly concerned. You smile at her weakly, sending her a wave. 

“Rough night?,” she asks lightly, you laugh playfully and nod. She looks at you fondly, pushing her hair behind her ears.

“Being sick is quite disruptive to sleep apparently,” you remark with sarcasm. She nods and smiles sympathetically. 

“We don’t have a case today, Hotch might agree to let you stay home another day,” she comments. You shake your head. 

“Still gotta catch up on paperwork,” you say sighing. She nods again and theres a few seconds of comfortable silence. 

“Hey, Emily - do you know where Spence is?,” you ask carefully. She shoots you a curious look but answers your question. 

“He called Hotch last night and took some time off, said it was something to do with his mom. Haven’t spoken to him since yesterday,” she says, recalling that very conversation. 

Something in you drops, as you sit up straight. Emily looks at you confused, but you don't have any clue on how to explain so you don’t. Instead, you stand up and look for Hotch whose in his office.

“On second thought, I think I’m gonna go ask Hotch to take another day,” you say, voice hoarse. Emily just nods at you, dazed in her own right.

“Thanks, Em, see you soon,” you say as you rush over to Hotch’s office. He looks at you as you pop the door open, and greet him. You swallow thickly, your words seeming to be stuck to your throat as you speak them - unable to do anything but rush. Your every movement and expression feel that way - like time is moving too fast and too slow all at once. 

Hotch looks at you concerned, sensing your urgency as you walk in and close the door behind you. 

“Hey Hotch, can I talk to you?,” you repeat the question meekly. 

“Of course, Y/N,” he says to you, brows furrowed tightly with worry. 

“I wanted to request some time off, something is going on back home and - ,” your voice sounds like its going to break, so Hotch stops you. 

“Take as much time as you need, we’ll be here when things settle,” He speaks knowingly, the only one on the whole team who does know anything about it. It wasn’t technically a lie either, but it was happenstance that you were taking time off for it. 

“Thanks, Hotch,” you reply softly. He nods at you and you’re on your way out of the door. No one else is in, and Emily isn’t in sight so you slip away entirely undetected. 

The car ride to Spencer's house makes your skin itch. You can’t get dark thoughts out of your head, struggling to drive there in the first place. Worry blossoms in your chest and every stoplight seems to stimulate the feeling. Every moment that you aren’t sure is another moment Spencer could be doing something detrimental and you can’t have that guilt resting in you. 

You rush up his apartment stairs, and knock on the door. Silence. You shake yourself, trying to regain some balance before you knock again - voice small as your call to Spencer on the other side. 

“Are you okay?, Spencer,” your voice echoes in the empty hallways - seeming to loom over both of you. Every movement you make is calculated, and precise. 

Spencer lays against the other side of the door, slumped up against it with exhaustion. He knows he’s experienced minor withdrawals, he hasn’t gotten high in days and its working him heavily. His skin is hot against his clothes, eyes dilated, breathing through his mouth as he tried his best to stay still and relax. Pain shoots within his muscles as he fixates himself on anything, anything to keep him afloat. He hears your voice and winces. 

“I’m fine, Y/N, leave me alone,” he croaks out. You sigh with relief but know you can’t leave. 

“Just open the door, Spencer,” you say sighing. He feels a shiver run down his spine and shakes his head as if you can see him. 

“This has nothing to do with you, Y/N. I don’t understand what you’re here for in the first place,  you’re not gonna be some hero for finding this out. I gotta say I am impressed that you figured it out first though, I always figured you were kinda incompetent,” his breathing is heavy, taking an edge of his words. It stings to hear since you know he still means them but you don’t have the energy to complain. You sit down, back against his door and sigh. 

“You really are an absolute dickhead,” you say more to yourself than anyone else, growing frustrated. You rub your face in your heads, your legs up to your chest and you sigh aloud - annoyed. 

“Just leave me alone already,” his words hold sincerity in them. He sincerely doesn’t like you, and neither do you - but the two of you knew that already - before your relationship was purely political but it was forced to go deeper than that. This feeling was a cross between pure annoyance and frustration - you didn’t know someone's existence could be so frustrating but you found yourself here. 

“What do you want Spencer? Do you want some emotional speech about how you shouldn’t do this, and how you’re stronger than this? Well, fuck you - you’re not getting that out of me. I’m not fucking JJ, or Penelope, or anyone else for that matter. To be honest, I don’t give a single shit about your life outside of work and I’ve always planned on keeping that way. This situation, my presence here - we lie in this bed together. I’m not JJ, I’m not gonna pretend to be here out of some deep-rooted platonic love. We’re co-workers, and I’m a decent fucking person so I’m not gonna let you sit here and rot-away. Why? Because JJ, Derek, Emily, Penelope, and Hotch all care for you and I care about them. I’m not gonna let you ruin yourself and be a selfish prick  - so open the fucking door and let me help so you can actually get better. After that, I’ll keep your dirty little secret,” 

Your speech is given unwavering, and every word you said held a specific weight. You were right, and that was ultimately the problem. You weren’t close to Spencer, but you were close to the team. He knew you were doing this because you had too, solely out of moral obligation - he knew that you understood that something was objectively wrong. And maybe that was the problem - none of this was personal to you. You were actually just trying to help because you knew he needed it - he had no intrusive thoughts about something so objective. He sighs heavily, letting tears escape him. Weakly, he stands up and opens the door slightly. 

You walk into Spencer's apartment and scan the room. It’s a mess, books stacked up untidily along with take-out boxes and plastic water-bottle littering random areas. Fresh needles sat on the edge of his desk, and you winced at their presence - the whole thing too familiar. Spencer sitting on the couch dazed off. You know immediately. 

“Withdrawal,” you mumble to yourself. He looks at you confused. 

“How?,” 

“Not important. How many days has it been since you showered?” you ask. He can’t seem to remember and you sigh. 

“When was the last time you ate?,” you ask again. He shuts his eyes, lids twitching before he responds. 

“Last night,” he says again. You check his temperature and his body is hot. You sigh. 

“How long can you be alone for?,” you ask. He shakes his head, rubbing his face. 

“An hour, at most,” he admits to you quietly. You sigh, standing up and giving him a tight hug. It’s unexpected, and not something he was used to but the comfort was so... comforting he couldn’t refuse. You feel hot tears land onto your abdomen as you sigh, rubbing Spencer's back with understanding. 

“Leave the door unlocked in case you fall asleep, I’ll be back in half an hour. I’m gonna put on a nature documentary, so just watch that and just try to focus on it. When I come back, tell me something you didn't know already or correct something that was wrong - that’s your homework for the next half-hour, okay?” you say softly. Your tone of voice was warm, and knowing. This process seemed familiar to you but Spencer decides against saying anything. 

You put on some animal planet on your laptop, and go off on your way, letting Spencer watch and focus intently. He finds his eyes shutting as time passes, and falls asleep. 

__ 

Spencer wakes up to the sound of pots and pans in his kitchen. He doesn’t think he’s ever used his kitchen so he’s startled at first. He rubs his eyes with the back of his hand as he walks into his kitchen to see you. You’re wearing an apron and bandanna, a long shirt and leggings. He’s never seen you like this, watching with intent as you fidget with the knobs on his oven. The smell of pasta and garlic hit him with ferocity and his stomach grumbles. You startled by his presence and turn to look at him. He finds himself overwhelmed and slips out a quiet hello. 

“Hey, Spencer. How’d you sleep?,” you ask the question casually. He blinks again and looks at you. 

“Well,” his response is dry. You start washing dishes in the kitchen sink as the oven turns off and Spencer finds himself walking closer to the island in the middle of it. He takes a seat, seeing fresh fruit and a glass of water poured out for him. 

“They had some strawberries on sale, so I cut them up for you. Vitamin C is good for you right now, and you need to eat anyways - so have some,” you explain, mindlessly washing away. You shake your head at how many seem to be in the sink,  probably a lot of weeks of build-up. It makes you wonder if anyone comes by. 

“Why’re you doing this,” he asks before he can stop himself. He flinches at the sound of his voice, gravelly and exhausted. You know the questions coming, but you can’t give him a good answer yet. You figure it’s worth a shot to try. 

“Recovery is a slow thing. The small things are what can be the most overwhelming when you’re trying to get better and I want you to get better” you say as honestly as possible. 

“But why?” he asks again. Not urgent, just curious. You turn the water off and look at him 

“It’s a story for when I know you a little better Spence,”

The answer seems to satisfy him, as he looks down. 

His voice is barely a whisper as he looks at you, watching you bend down and pull out a tray of lasagna. He watches you so carefully, he finds his heart, stirring - unsure of why. He smiles, a very small, but genuine smile as you place the lasagna on the counter. You look to him and give him a tight-lipped smile back. 

“It’ll be a minute before this cools, so I suggest you take a shower, or bath or something,” you suggest. Spencer winces, the thought of being alone in the bathroom making his skin crawl. He’s brain wracks itself with the idea of being alone again, that loneliness is what got him here in the first place and to be anywhere but there is so relieving. His eyes are hollow when he thinks about it. You see his expression and yours softens. 

“I know it’s tough if you want I can massage your head with shampoo or something before you go in - make it a little less daunting. My little cousin likes it because he’s scared of the sound the shower makes, so it might help,” you explain. Spencer blushes, but the idea isn’t all that bad. A little embarrassing but it’d be nice. Plus his head hurts, so it’s not all that bad of an idea. He scratches the back of his neck and nods. 

“Thank you,” his voice is barely above a whisper. You look at Spencer tenderly, and you sit down at the island next to him. He turns his body, neck stretching as he looks at you exhausted. 

“You’re gonna be fine, Spencer. It’s not gonna be easy because this type of thing, it just seems to follow you. It’ll feel like it’s everywhere at first, but it isn’t. Keep your head up, if not for you - for the people who need you like Diana and the team,” you explained gently. Spencer and you weren’t ever very close but his mother loved you. Even if she couldn’t remember you, she always had a pleasant reaction to your name when she was feeling okay. She had met you when Spencer brought her into the BAU for a case. 

Spencer's eyes shift their focus onto you and for the first time in his life, his reaction to you wasn’t so unpleasant. It was still strained, still difficult and unruly - but different. It was humanizing to see you like that. He nods at you, dazed. You give him an awkward smile. 

“C’mon, let's get you cleaned up,” you say, softly. Spencer blushes as he leads you to the bathroom

_

“I’m starting to realize, I don’t actually know anything about you,” Spencer muses softly. Your fingers are tucked away in his curls, white bubbles of foam and shampoo between them as you work Spencer scalp. His hair was greasy, but that's probably because he used that terrible 4-in-1 stuff before. You figured you’d be there for a while anyway, so you ended up using your own products. Disgusted at the fact he was a grown man and still used 4-in-1. Who does that? 

“I don’t really talk a lot about what I do outside of work,” you reply casually. You scratch a part of Spencer scalp and watch his neck crane in delight like he was a small dog. You stifle your laughter. 

“What do you do then?” Spencer asks. 

“I volunteer with kids, mostly. I help them learn to read at the library nearby, you know - read with them and help them pick out new stories to learn together,” you say sincerely. Spencer is softened by your words. 

“That's really nice,” Spencer comments. You laugh. 

“I guess so. It’s just something I do, you know?  Kids are wonderful, they have so much wonder about life. It’s all sincere, too. It’s more fun to read with people whose imaginations are so big, seeing them make up their own world,” you say affectionately. Spencer nods in agreement. 

“Yeah,” 

There's a moment of comfortable silence before Spencer finds himself curious again. 

“What else do you do in your spare time?,” 

“I try to volunteer as much as I can, just in general. Soup kitchens, animal shelters, that kind of thing. If I’m taking some personal time, I cook a lot. I’ll invite some people over and have a small dinner party. I’d invite the BAU sometime but that's kinda Rossi’s thing so I wouldn’t wanna intrude,” you say softly. Spencer notes that none of those things are really all that personal. 

“Those are all things you do for other people, though. What do you do for you?,” Spencer asks again. You feel something stir in you at the question, and you shift. You become a little suddenly aware at the fact that Spencer's head is between your thighs but you can’t say anything about it. 

“I listen to music a lot. I cross-stitch sometimes but that makes me sound super old. I bake a lot too, loaves of bread and bagels and sometimes desserts but I don’t have much of a sweet tooth. I really enjoy my me-time so I have very long-winded self-care routines that I do to loosen up and feel pampered. It’s nice,” you say shyly. You’re not used to the question, about what you do for you. It feels vain to answer. Spencer seems intrigued by that. 

“Self-care routine?,” Spencer eggs on. You chuckle at his curiosity. 

“Skincare, self-pampering, shit like that. Most women have like 3 different versions and they vary based on how much time they have. I’m a working woman, so I have a version for cases and a version for weekends alone and a version for going out. I can’t speak for guys here, so I won’t but yeah,”

“You know, it’s been proven time and time again that it’s majorly beneficial for people of any gender to take time off to attend to personal needs. It’s shown major benefits in overall happiness, mood, and overall attitude,” Spencer repeats back. You give a small smile, it finally feels more like Spencer. 

“Take your own advice, genius,” you comment back sarcastically. Spencer laughs, leaning into your fingers without much thought. He’s visibly more comfortable than he was before. It makes you comfortable too. 

“Alright, you feeling okay to go shower, kid?,” you ask Spencer. He does, but he find himself a little disappointed. The nickname bounces around his head for a moment before he laughs again. His voice is light. 

“Yeah, yeah I think I’m okay. Thank you,” He stands up and so do you, and the two of you look at each other for what feels like a few seconds too long. You look at him, the old t-shirt he’s in, and his pajama pants and you can’t help the way your heart bangs against the cage of your chest. It could’ve been a lot of things, maybe the fluorescent lightning or the way that your hands were covered in shampoo, or the way Spencer stood a little slumped and sleepy. You didn’t want to kiss him. You were just compelled to give him a break, and maybe that was worse. Feeling compelled to give someone empathy even though a small part of you always felt like they were a complete asshole. Feeling moved by someone's vulnerability so much you almost give them a pass, yes certainly that was more dangerous. 

You don’t say anything, you just give Spencer a smile and a pat on his chest. He hates the way he takes notice of the feeling. 

“I’m gonna set up dinner, and we can watch Harry Potter,”  It was the one thing you two had in common before all this. He nods. 

“Okay, yeah, that works. Thanks,” he says again more softly. He wants to say more, and in a way so do you but neither of you does. You wash your hands of the shampoo and close the door behind you. Your eyes flutter closed for a moment as you listen to the water run and think to yourself. It was by pure circumstance that you ended up here, really. The way every move had made thus far, though it felt so careful feels beyond your control. You weren’t alone for the first time in a long time and this feeling keeps weighing on you. More dangerous than love is empathy. Empathy for someone so stupid and selfish, it made you feel strange. Yet it was there. Yet, you were there. 

Spencer understood the feeling. Guardian Angel, the term bounced around in Spencer's mind as he showered. The feeling of your fingers still on his mind. Not alone, for the first time in too long. Strange is such a phenomenon. 

__ taglist: @cynbx​ @zephyr-studiesjp​ @reid-187​ @louistwinslover​ @skrrrrrrrrrrt​

[voxmxchina]

Hannibal Fic Recs

hiddenembers07: I’m new to the hannibal fandom so any recs for fics I would love to hear? 😊

Oh boy, do I ever. Firstly, let me point you to this list of “iconic hannibal recs” for a list format of the prominent fics in the fandom. I have not included any fics that are already on that list. Most of the fics listed here I’ve found by tag mining and creeping on people’s bookmark lists and they’re in no particular order. All are complete. So, enjoy!

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A Great and Gruesome Height by mokuyoubi (E | 115k) Post s3e13. Murder Husbands. This is a masterpiece. The writing is beautiful and entrancing. The plot is engaging and respectably tense without overshadowing the enthralling character and relationship development. The growth and malleability of both Will and Hannibal are shown in such a lovely way. Definitely a must read. 

Morphology (series) by Finely Honed (E | 93k) s1 AU. “Hannibal's fascination with Will prompts him to attempt the impossible—giving up killing in order to better explore the possibility of a relationship with Will. Easier said than done.“ This is beautifully written and wonderfully angsty while not being TOO much. Seriously can’t believe I haven’t read this before. Contains: murder family feels, excellent and unique characterizations, and lots of uhhh... smut. That's really good too.

On Through the Shallows by MajorEnglishEsquire (E | 33k) Post s3e13. “Hannibal has decided to want dog hair and mechanic's grease and damp sheets. Or, rather, he's decided he doesn't much mind cleaning those up. He needed someone to fuck him up. He fucked Will up and he wants to get fucked up right back.” Will works through the limbo between the moral man he was before and the free one he is becoming. Hannibal works on sucking colorful bruises onto Will’s neck.

Odalisque (series) by drinkbloodlikewine & whiskeyandspite (E | 231k) Murderous Rent Boy!Will & uhhh... normal Hannibal. Underage warning. “There’s something deeply decadent about it, defiling such a luminous vehicle with something so cheap as smoke. The irony isn’t lost on Will as he slides across the velvet-soft lambskin leather seat. As far as could be from anyone who regularly visits this place, for these reasons. Slumming it. Not quite your typical rentboy situation.” What is there to say? Will is an underage serial killer with a rent-boy cover. Hannibal is Hannibal. They pick each other out as marks but they can’t quite kill each other. Kink ensues. Also, the development across this series is the most memorable thing about it, all kink aside (and there is a lot of it).

Faded Fantasy (and sequel) by Phenobarbital (E | 232k) Post s3e13. Slow Burn. “Hannibal navigates his way through Will's heterosexuality...” Okay. This is AWESOME. I feel like this was written specifically for me. It’s long as FUCK, but it’s ALL relationship development. It’s literally just >200k of pining and romancing and sexual tension and Hannibal being so incredibly smitten with Will that it’s painful for him. This deserves so much more clout. Literally, cannot recommend this journey of a fic enough. When their trust develops, it’s very rewarding.

As soft, as wide as air by BlackKnightSatellite (E | 191k) Post s3e13. Murder Husbands. Dark. Slow burn. A story of becoming in three acts. Beautifully written - poetic even. Plot driven without neglecting the necessary and heavy character development. This is a tragedy, not for Hannibal and Will, but for every mere mortal who has touched them. Will and Hannibal here burn bright and hot like a dying star, suspended in time. My descriptions aren’t usually this florid, but this epic truly deserves it. Will here is an avenging angel of hell, and Hannibal is as manipulating and devoted as he’s ever been. The pacing and plot are reminiscent of the show, and it’s lovely. Well worth reading. MCD warning does NOT apply to Hannibal or Will.

Daydreamer and the Shadow Man (series) by HigherMagic (E | 169k) “After Garrett Jacob Hobbs, Will can't reconcile Abigail's death. He's done - with all of it. He needs to escape, to return to the only place he has ever felt safe and wanted. That place ends up being a sleepy town on the other side of the Chesapeake Bay, where he spent one summer as a child, exchanging riddles and letters with his dearest friend: the Shadow Man.” This is BEAUTIFUL!! There’s identity porn, Dark/Semi-Dark Will, extremely devoted Hannibal, and so so so much love in this story. Please note there are strong themes of stalking/grooming in case that’s a trigger for you.

The First Condition of Immortality is Death by OneHandedBooks (E | 92k) Hannibal’s heart stopped for the first time after he’d dragged himself and Will out of the frigid ocean onto the rocky shore at the bottom of the bluff. Slow Burn. Lovely, poignant, emotional! Very atmospheric. Will and Hannibal heal from their fall. They take a boat to the Caribbean. <-- That’s all I have in my AO3 notes, but I actually find myself thinking about this fic all the time. I’ve read so many fics that are post 3x13, but this one and it’s little details still stand out to me.

Two Solitudes by emungere (E | 54k) Wonderful, intimate, and tender. Beautifully written and honest. Will cares for Hannibal after the cliff. They escape to Canada together, and they learn to trust and fit together. I’m always a bitch for survival/wilderness fics, and this scratches that itch.

The Infinitives Series by InfiniteCrisis (E | 93k) Post s3e13. Dark AF. An incredible take on Sub!Hannibal and Dom!Will. Will makes a cruel, cruel Dom here and some of this feels pretty fucked up, even for me. It works out though and I've read this through multiple times. PLEASE read the warnings though.

Veins As Fine As Rabbit Hair by lovetincture (E | 42k) “He also knows what Hannibal’s offering, and it’s not just anything. It's love and murder, pain and comfort, all of it mixed together in equal quantities and no way to have one without the other.” A slow burn and slow story (in such a good way). Will and Hannibal, after the fall. Very beautifully written, and their relationship growth is wonderful.

Authors that I love everything I’ve read by: HigherMagic // Whiskeyandspite // stratumgermanitivum // drinkbloodlikewine  // everybreathagift

Fics that I’ve loved enough to read aloud: “A Gentler Ending” by @damnslippyplanet​ // “daylight savings” by thebeespatella (@the-bees-patella) // “Pochée” by ElloPoppet (@lizabethl)

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Find more fic recommendations lists by myself and others  on my fanfiction blog here! Also check out my bookmarks on AO3!

I have SO many more fics that I love, so feel free to drop by my inbox if you need more reccomendations! This is just a very very very small sampling.

[ashesonthefloor]

you’re like a breath of fresh air in my lungs  (ot4)

summary: 5 times Ashton gets jealous of how close his bandmates have gotten, and 1 time he doesn’t (alternatively: Ashton doesn’t know how to sort through his feelings. his bandmates help him) ao3 found here

word count: 5,916

content warning: mild jealousy, descriptions of sadness and inability to breathe, sexual implications (non descriptive)

A/N: hello! it’s me again with my attempt at a 5+1! never written one before but I had fun! also never posted any angst on here and haven’t written it in ages. I don’t really think this is angst, though, I’ve been calling it pseudo angst. shoutout to @clumsyclifford and @calumcest for letting me scream about this conceptually even though I never mentioned much about the actual plot. it does have a very fluffy ending (and I might write an epilogue if asked), so no worries. just lots of introspection and Ashton being stuck in his head and overthinking. I imagined them a few years younger, since this is very....ah, less mature than I think they’d behave now. regardless. please enjoy! 

title from Ready or Not by Bridgit Mendler

No one is entirely sure who starts it, but all bets are on Luke. It’s only noticeable once it becomes a Thing. When Luke leans in to press a quick kiss to whoever’s cheek is closest any time he has to leave. It gets extra noticeable when they all start leaning into it. 

It remains just that, an unspoken Thing that none of them broach, left alone and quiet so no one really has to think about the implications or what it means.That was, of course, until Michael decided he was going to go against the unspoken rule, and bring it up when they’re clustered in the kitchen. Minus Luke, who was off doing god knows what. 

“Luke’s been extra clingy lately,” Michael started, gaze shifting from Calum to Ashton and back again. His tone was conversational, but it was clear - to Ashton, at least - that he was trying to go somewhere with it. Trying to push for information. He was perched on the counter, legs swinging in the very I’m-not-always-aware-of-what-my-body-is-doing sort of way that was very Michael. 

Calum sipped his coffee, letting out a hum. “He’s always clingy.” It seemed like Calum wanted to talk about it about as much as Ashton did. 

“Okay, yeah, but he kissed you this morning,” Michael pointed out, like it meant something. And maybe it did, Ashton just really didn’t want to think about it. He liked the dynamics they had. Questioning anything Luke did was just a good way to get confused; he rarely knew what he was doing enough to explain it to others, figuring out his logic was complicated in its own right. 

“He did,” Calum agreed, sly smile coming onto his face. It had only been a kiss on the cheek, no cause for alarm. But, for Ashton, it was still very much cause for alarm. Maybe.  “Are you jealous?”

Michael started, expression shifting into the annoyed scowl he’d perfected years ago. “No! I’m just- I just meant he’s been weirdly clingy lately. Fuck off, Cal.”

Ashton snorted at that, unable to help himself. “You sound jealous.” He didn’t like stoking the fire of Michael’s annoyance - or continuing pointless arguments - but it was easier than the subject matter at hand. He didn’t want to think about the way his stomach twisted at the thought of Luke kissing all of them the way he was, didn’t want to understand what or why he was feeling. 

“Fuck off,” was Michael’s eloquent response, leaning back against the wall, swinging his legs again, so his heels hit against the cabinets below in time with Ashton’s rapid heartbeat. Bump bump. Bump bump. At least his heartbeat wasn’t scuffing the paint.

“Seriously,” Michael said, leaning forward a little, fringe in his eyes. Ashton didn’t brush it out this time the way he normally did, hand staying firmly on his mug of coffee. “What’s up with him?”

“I think he’s just lonely or something, Mikey,” Calum consoled, taking over the position of peacemaker in Ashton’s determined silence. “Either that or he’s got a crush on you.” He poked at Michael’s thigh, trying to keep things lighthearted. 

Michael squirmed over slightly with a laugh. “Fuck off,” he said, for the third time since they’d gathered in the kitchen twenty minutes ago, long enough to brew a pot of coffee and have uncomfortable conversations. “No, really. I don’t think he does. He’s doing it to all of us. You and Ashton included.” His gaze flickered over to Ashton. So he really did want to talk about it. 

“Okay, and?” Calum glanced over at Ashton before back to Michael. “What about it?”

“It’s weird, that’s what.” Michael leaned back against the upper cabinets again, head hitting them with a soft thunk. “He didn’t always do that.”

Ashton wasn’t listening so much anymore. He sipped his coffee, gaze somewhere on the cabinets above Michael’s brightly dyed hair. He was distracted, caught up in his own thoughts, memories of a few weeks ago before this all started. Nimble fingers tugging at his shirt buttons, laughter lost against his lips when they’d stumbled, teeth catching his lower lip, blonde curls silky between his fingers when he’d reached out and tugged. It hadn’t gotten far - not near as far as they’d anticipated - they’d been too sober for it to seem anything but too comfortable. It had been Ashton to voice his concerns first - should we be doing this, is this okay, what if the others find out - and Luke had pulled back, disappointment in his eyes like he’d expected it to be easy. He still remembered just how cold his sheets had felt, empty and bare the way they had been since that night. No late night Luke crawling in because he got lonely and needed company, or because he had a bad dream and needed consolation, or because he wanted to talk about his dreams for the band, for them, and Ashton was always willing to listen. 

Ashton drained his coffee mug and set it into the sink maybe a little harder than he should have, deciding he didn’t want to be part of the conversation, and turned to leave the kitchen. The last thing he caught was Michael’s “Fuck, what’s gotten into him?”

*****

It doesn’t get brought up for a few days, giving Ashton a short but sweet respite from having to think about the unhappiness simmering in the pit of his stomach, the way it twisted whenever he caught Luke kissing the other two, something a little too close to jealousy for his comfort, even if Ashton determinedly didn’t think about it, or which way it went.

Luke settled himself into Calum’s lap on the couch, ruining whatever game he’d been trying to play against Michael. “Come on, that’s cheating!” Calum laughed, hands abandoning the controller to drop to Luke’s waist, anyway, trying to look around him at the screen. 

“All’s fair in love and war,” Michael sang triumphantly, grin on his face as he crossed the finish line in Mario Kart, tossing his controller down to do a victory dance that was more an aborted flail of his limbs, shimmying a little in place, complete with sticking his tongue out in the most mature display of bragging Michael was capable of.

“This isn’t love or war,” Calum pointed out, though he didn’t look too put out that he’d lost, anyway. 

“What are you talking about? Mario Kart counts as war,” Michael said, at the same time Luke said “it might be love.”

And that got everyone’s attention, three pairs of eyes snapping up to Luke’s face almost instantly.. “What did you say?” Ashton finally spoke up from where he was sitting in the armchair, glancing up from his phone screen in time to watch Luke turn pink. The kind of pink that reminded him of when it got cold and Luke refused to wear a jacket, just so he could steal Ashton’s, or Calum’s or Michael’s. His nose just wasn’t pink, now, but the colour of his face certainly made up for that.

Luke was the most attention-driven of the four of them - though Calum certainly didn’t mind it at all, most of the time - so him blushing was a little bit strange. Which was only confounded by his equally strange response. “I didn’t say anything,” he said, clearly avoiding the question. “Maybe we should order pizza.”

“Fuck yeah,” Michael said, easily bought and distracted. 

“Wait-“ Ashton said, trying to ask again. 

“You heard him,” Calum said with a grin, squeezing Luke’s hips just to make him shift on his lap and laugh. “He said he loooooooves us.” His hands creeped up to poke at his sides. 

“Cal! Stop!” Luke managed to get through his giggles, as Calum started actively tickling his sides. 

Ashton just frowned a little bit, sinking further into the chair. When Michael wanted to talk about complicated things, they all had to comply. But, apparently, not when Ashton did. What was going on with the three of them, anyway? Hadn’t the tickle fights been abandoned in grade school? He didn’t want to think about the now-familiar twist in his gut. It was forming into something tangible, too, shifting and morphing to be accompanied by an ache in his chest that, if he were any more poetic, he would insist was a hole in his heart. A very Luke shaped hole. Or, more precisely, a more uncomplicated version of his band shaped hole, back when he didn’t have to think about things too much, or when he didn’t feel that awful ache when Calum had his hands up on Luke like that, Michael moving in to poke at him from the side. He wasn’t sure they’d ever fully been like this, though. Years of living in close quarters had blurred ang boundaries they may have had at one point. Ashton seemed to be the only one that had any left. 

And that, too, was its own form of miserable, feeling constantly like he was on the outside, looking in, unable to participate. The ache was back now, full force, and he pulled his gaze to the TV, even though he really wasn’t paying attention to anything anymore. He hated this feeling, hated feeling like the last one in on a joke, or like he was always the one dragging his feet. It went along with being the reasonable one, though, and he couldn’t abandon that, or Luke would try and microwave eggs again and they’d burn the whole place down. 

“Ashton,” Michael finally said, face flushed and words breathless, nothing but happiness in his eyes. “Can you order the pizza?”

And, just once, Ashton really hated being the reasonable one.

*******

“You have to stay still,” Luke chastised, still perched carefully in his lap. He’d insisted on doing Ashton’s makeup - though he really wasn’t sure how much of an expert Luke was on it to begin with - and as soon as he’d agreed, albeit slightly reluctantly, Luke had been climbing into his lap, eyeliner in hand. It seemed like he already knew what he wanted to do. 

“I’m not the one moving around.” And he was pretty sure about that. His hands were still on Luke’s hips, trying to hold him steady and keep from wobbling around. 

“Yeah, you are.” Luke’s breath was warm on his cheek, comforting in a way he wouldn’t have expected from someone who forgot to brush his teeth way too often when he was younger. He hadn’t been this close to Luke since that night, a week and a half ago, when Luke had given him that look with enough hurt to shatter his soul, and left before he could put it back together again. 

“Whatever you say.” It was easier than continuing to argue, or coming up with a well considered reply. Luke’s fingers, too, were just as warm, one hand holding his jaw to keep his head tilted up, like he needed the constant reminder, the knuckles of his other hand brushing his cheek as he worked on Ashton’s winged liner. He was reminded of those same fingers brushing against more of his bare chest with every button that opened, the way Luke felt laughing into their kiss, head tipped down slightly to meet his, eyelashes brushing Ashton’s cheek when he tipped his head just a little too far as they maneuvered to the bed. He could feel the rhythmic in and out of his breathing, his heartbeat steady in its cage, too, because of how close they were now, Luke leaning over him, knees bracketing Ashton’s hips, lower legs pressed warm and steady against Ashton’s thighs. 

Luke didn’t reply, for once seeming to prefer the silence, and leaned forward instead, switching his focus to the other eye. With no noise between them, other than the sound of their breathing, all Ashton could really focus on was the sound of his own heartbeat, thudding a too-fast rhythm in his chest like he was at his drum kit working out his emotions, letting the steady thud of his bass drum drown out anything else he could be thinking about. And, god, he wished he was there now, instead of here, fingers a little lower than they should be, thoughts flickering between Luke and his unending warmth and presence, and the other guys in the band, and what they would do if they walked in to see Luke in his lap, so close Ashton could feel his breath, smell the blue jolly rancher he’d had in his mouth before he’d started this whole thing. It was too complicated, too many things to focus on at once, and he was trying to keep his mind in one place. It just wasn’t working very well. 

“There,” Luke said at last, letting go of his eye and pulling back. “Now you just need lipstick.”

Ashton opened his eyes, immediately preparing to argue. “Wait, I thought you said-“

“I said I was doing your makeup. Makeup includes lipstick,” Luke cut him off, having seemingly expected Ashton’s trepidation. 

He leaned over and grabbed the tube of lipstick before leaning over him again. “Open your mouth a little,” he instructed, opening the lipstick and slowly starting to apply it once Ashton obeyed him. His hands were surprisingly steady, now, no hint of the nervous tremor he had sometimes in interviews, hand slipping soundlessly into Ashton’s underneath the table where no one could see. Not that it really mattered if they did, but people could be unkind, and they didn’t need any more rumors about their band. Not after the one about Michael and Calum sleeping together - or, worse, the one where /all/ of them had been. 

As far as rumors went, it wasn’t the worst. It didn’t bring good things for the band, though, not with social stigma being the way it was. But it wasn’t the worst thought, being with the three guys. They were his closest friends, and the people he trusted with his life. And it was absolutely, without a doubt, leagues about the rumor where he had been a cheater. He hadn’t had a girlfriend, or a partner, or anyone, but someone had run a story flat out saying he’d cheated on some girl. That had taken a lot of fixing, and no one had been pleased. He remembered how angry Michael had been on his behalf, threatening to call the publisher and ‘give them a piece of his mind’, Luke having already taken the position of comforting Ashton, sliding his hand into his to give him something to hold. He hadn’t been that broken up about it, honestly, but it had been touching, the way they all came together to try and help. He still remembered Calum pulling him aside later, hand on his shoulder and concerned frown that he wore so well already on his face, asking if he was okay or if he needed a hug, and that he would get one anyway. And yeah, if he had to date more than one person, they’d probably be a good choice. 

“Done!” Luke announced, smiling a little. He shifted back on Ashton’s thighs to inspect his work, head tilting to the right, when Calum and Michael came in. 

“Honey, I’m home!” Michael called as he walked in, laughing slightly to himself afterward. Calum just rolled his eyes fondly as they stepped across the doorframe, both pausing a little in place as they caught sight of Luke and Ashton. 

“Whoa.” Michael was the first to speak. “You look good, Ash. Got a hot date later?”

“Yeah,” Ashton replied, getting over his momentary shock of being walked in on with Luke still in his lap, hands just a little too tight on his hips. “With your mum.”

Michael snorted, but it earned him an actual laugh from Calum. “You do look good. The lipstick looks nice. And I like the little heart on your cheekbone.” Calum tapped a finger against his own face, presumably where the heart was on Ashton’s. 

“You added a heart?” Ashton asked. That explained what he’d been doing there, then. 

Luke shrugged. “It looks cute.”

“It does look cute. You look ready to do a little dance for us, Ash,” Michael continued, ever the supportive friend. “Could always toss on a skirt.” He sounded less cutting and more intrigued than he was probably aiming for. Calum just gave him a look and, since he was closest, poked him in the ribs to make him squirm away. “It was a compliment!” Michael squawked  in his own defense, hand coming up to defend his ribs. 

“I’m ordering takeout,” Calum said, changing the subject. “I don’t feel like cooking. And no pizza this time,” he directed at Michael with a look. 

Luke just shifted on Ashton’s lap, drawing his attention back to him. “You do look good, Ash.”

“Yeah,” he said. Swallowed. Continued. “Thanks.”

Luke just gave him a smile that had no right being as soft or as loving as it was. The strange ache in his chest was back full force, longing for something he couldn’t have, accompanied by his heart fluttering, trapped in a too-small cage and begging for release. “You’re welcome.”

*********

His respite is short, and a little less than sweet. Calum sat next to him on the couch, maybe two days after the makeup incident. “What are we watching?”

“I don’t know,” Ashton said, looking up from his phone to look at the TV. “It looks like the Avengers. I’m not really watching, if you want to change it.” He dropped the remote into Calum’s lap, attention going back to his phone. He had his suspicions about what this was, Calum coming to talk to him about ‘whatever had been going on with him lately’, the same way Ashton always did whenever one of the others was upset. He didn’t like seeing his role from the other side, didn’t want to be comforted or talk about it. He was fine, perfectly fucking fine, even if his chest ached sometimes in a way he couldn’t name (wouldn’t name, didn’t want the j word to ring true even in his own mind), especially when he felt like the others were in on some fucking secret he wasn’t, like the other day with Luke, in Calum’s lap.

He realized he’d stiffened at some point when Calum wrapped an arm around his shoulders, tugging him into his side, rubbing at his shoulder and arm like he was trying to comfort him. Ashton really didn’t want to be comforted, didn’t need it, he was a fully functional adult who absolutely wasn’t bothered. Calum was unrelenting though, rubbing little circles onto Ashton’s shoulder with his thumb, not broaching the subject, knowing Ashton wouldn’t want to talk about it from years of friendship and experience. It hung in the air, though, tangible and almost heavy, a weight that reminded him of the same tightness he often felt wrapped around his lungs that only loosened slightly when he was with Luke - or, he supposed, if he’d actually talk about it. Like Luke was a breath of fresh air, and he was a drowning man who’d just gotten his head above water, breathing in deep and not caring about the salty water that burned on the way down. 

And maybe that was alright, because Calum was warm, and comfortable. He’d leaned his head on him at some point, pillowed against Calum’s thick hoodie covered shoulder. And if he fell asleep there, warm and comforted, lulled to peace and relaxation by the steady in and out of Calum's breathing, and his heartbeat, and the familiar smell of his Calvin Klein cologne, then that was okay, too.  

If Luke came in an hour later, fingers tangled with Michael’s, and eyes burning bright with some unnameable emotion, some new fire in his soul, looking at Ashton like he was daring him - begging him - to understand him, then maybe that was made just a little more bearable by the comforting, unmoving weight of Calum’s arm around his shoulders.

***********

Ashton’s a little later getting home, having to make the grocery run alone because the others had been busy. He finished putting them away - really, did Michael have to leave fucking cereal all over the counter? Clean the fuck up - before wandering into the living room in search of the guys. He was expecting them to be all sprawled out on the couches, taking up as much space as humanly possible while keeping some sort of contact with each other, the way they normally did.

He was not expecting them to have yanked a shit ton of blankets and pillows onto the floor to form a giant nest, all snuggled in together like they’d done a few times when they were younger. Before they’d all grown up and moved past the phase where cuddling in together in a giant pile felt completely natural, and no one was that bothered by the others’ morning wood and Michael’s incessant dick jokes. Looking at them now, though, Ashton couldn’t help but wonder if he was the only one that had grown past that. He’d thought it had been a natural shift, all of them growing up and out of it. Maybe they’d just slowly started leaving him out of it.

Luke seemed awfully comfortable with his head on Calum’s chest, fingers laced together with Michael’s, their hands laying on Calum’s stomach. Michael, on Calum’s other side, definitely seemed comfortable, both of his arms wrapped around Calum and Luke, face pressed in against Calum’s left shoulder, several steps above where Ashton had been with him a few days prior in terms of intimacy.

For the first time since he’d gotten used to being in the band, being included - since the other three had assured him they cared about him, and he was part of them - he felt like he’d stumbled in on something private, something secret, something not for his viewing. The feeling was only solidified when Luke laughed at something on screen, turning to press his smile into Calum’s chest, eyes coming up to meet Calum’s with nothing but love shining bright. Nothing like the smoldering fire he’d had when he’d looked at Ashton the other day.

None of them had noticed him yet, making it easy to turn tell and head back to the safety of his bedroom. It wasn’t easy to forget how happy, how peaceful they’d all looked. Calum’s hand carding through Luke’s curls like he wasn’t thinking about it, Michael brushing his thumb over Luke’s knuckles, half asleep on Calum’s shoulder, the absolute love and adoration in Luke’s eyes.

And Ashton didn’t get it. Didn’t know when they’d started this back up again, didn’t know why he hadn’t been included. If he wanted to be included. How long had they been doing that again? How long had they been waiting for Ashton to leave so they could all curl up together without having to worry about him catching them, ruining it somehow? The thought of that was enough to fuck up anything else. He’d thought they were a team, close as a group as well as individually. He guessed he was wrong, though, if they felt the need to tiptoe around him the way they were. How long? How long had they been wanting to avoid him, for stolen moments together?

The thought was enough to bring that tightness back, curling up and around his lungs, cutting off his breath so every inhale feels sharp and heady. His heart was still caught in its cage, too small, too painful, each staccato beat catching him off guard, pounding loud and heavy in his ears in the suffocating silence of the empty room. Bathed in shadow and darkness, he didn’t bother turning on the light, preferring to avoid the harshness, preferring to not have to think too much beyond the moment.

If Ashton spent the rest of his evening wrapped up in his covers, lights staying off, in pseudo approximation of sleep, then no one had to know. And if he got himself off, hand around himself in the cover of darkness, with Luke’s name on his lips, mind chasing could-have-beens, memory somewhere in that night of Almost, hatred for himself potent in every movement of his body, then no one had to know.

********

He managed to make it almost a week, creeping around the other guys so he’s not caught with them in one place for too long. He could see the worry in their eyes, in the way Calum’s gaze shifts to Luke, or Michael, any time they’re all together for a moment, in the crease of his brow and the small tilt of his head. Calum had mastered silent communication years ago, and Ashton refused to remember that it had originally been for the two of them, exasperated sometimes with Michael picking on Luke, or someone asking them a stupid question. So it was a new kind of pain to see that being used against him.

His luck didn’t last long, though, before Calum caught him by the arm, concerned frown on his face. “Okay, what is going on with you?” He asked, leaving little room for the caginess Ashton had been favouring lately. As Ashton opened his mouth to reply, Calum spoke again. “And don’t you dare say nothing, you’ve been avoiding us for a week. That isn’t normal. Not for you.” 

Ashton deliberated for a moment on whether he wanted to be honest. In the end, Calum’s earnest, worried face is what tipped the scales for him, and he decided on replying with candor. “I saw you guys, a week ago.” Calum’s frown deepened, and Ashton felt the now-familiar twist in his gut. “I figured you wanted some time to yourselves, since you seemed like you were awfully comfortable doing that.” 

“Ashton-”

“And like a week before that, I thought Luke wanted to fuck me and then he left and wouldn’t talk to me after, and then started fucking kissing you guys and still wouldn’t talk about it. So I really don’t know what’s going on with you guys, but it’s pretty fucking clear I’m not invited.” He didn’t know what possessed him to blurt the rest of it out, but it was too late now, anyway. And the tightness around his chest, like someone had wrapped saran wrap around his chest as tight as they could, constricting everything in the worst possible way, loosened just a bit with his words. So maybe it was just that little bit worth it, even as Calum chewed on his lower lip in thought.

“You are invited,” he finally said, and what the fuck was that supposed to mean? Ashton didn’t get the chance to ask before Calum was taking his arm again and pulling him down the hall to Michael’s room.

“Calum, what the fuck-” was all Ashton managed to get out before Calum was knocking on the door and letting them in. 

Michael was sprawled out on his stomach, feet on his pillow at the head of the bed, scrolling on his phone. Luke was next to him, leaning against the wall, also distracted by his phone. They looked up immediately when Calum dragged Ashton in.

“We have to tell him,” Calum said, gaze shifting from Luke to Michael and back again. “He saw us cuddling and thought we didn’t want him around.” He looked at Luke. “And he thinks you don’t like him, or don’t want him, after you started whatever that was and stopped.”

Ashton was...fucking confused, to say the least. What the fuck was going on? Why did Luke look all guilty? And seriously, what the fuck did Calum want them to tell him? God, if they were all fucking, he was quitting the band.

“We’re all….together,” Luke said, words slow and methodical like he was actually trying to think about what he was saying, stringing words together carefully so he made sense, which wasn’t always his strong suit. Ashton had to translate for him, sometimes, when they were talking to someone else. It was strange to be on the receiving end. “Kind of. Um. And that night- well, I like you- we like you- so I was trying to figure out how to tell you.” Luke flushed, light pink dusting his cheeks, slightly tan from the summer sun. “But then you started asking questions, and I didn’t know how to answer any of them, and I panicked.”

Michael’s hand moved to take Luke’s, fingers lacing together like it was the most natural thing in the world. And for them, it probably was. They’d been doing this for god knew how long, tiptoeing around Ashton carefully so they wouldn’t have to explain. And sure, maybe Ashton didn’t entirely get it yet, and had too many questions, but wasn’t that to be expected, since he was the last to join? They already had an idea of how they worked as...a slightly more romantic relationship, or whatever they were. Ashton didn’t. The constricting tightness was back, not as bad now, but very prevalent in the face of realizing that he was right, he had intentionally been left out. It felt like a straight jacket, restricting his movements and keeping him stuck in place, Calum’s hand still warm where it held his arm, his mind moving a few paces slower than he would have liked. His breathing, at least, felt a little steadier, a little more even, even if each one felt strange through the tightness of his imaginary straight jacket.

“You’re all...together?” Ashton finally managed to get out, the three others looking at him expectantly, waiting on his answer. His gaze lingered on Luke’s nervous face. He didn’t want to make him feel nervous, wanted to wipe the nerves from his face and console him until he felt better, wrapped up in Ashton’s arms like they’d done before this whole mess started. “Dating?”

Michael looked at Calum uneasily, like the answer was written on his forehead. In reality, they were just doing Calum’s silent communication thing. “We...haven’t really talked about it like that,” he said, just as slowly as Luke. “But, uh. Yeah. I guess. We’re all exclusive, and just like each other. We haven’t told anyone yet, and were trying to...well, we were trying to figure out how to tell you and ask you to join.”

“Which was what Luke was doing,” Calum added, even though Luke had already explained that part. Although, what they hadn’t explained was-

“How did you all start?” Ashton asked. If it was so hard to tell him, then how had it started for the other three? He didn’t imagine it was easy.

Luke flushed darker at that, shrinking down a little in place. Calum was the one who actually answered. “I walked in on Michael and Luke kissing. Then we sort of talked about it, and figured out we all liked each other. Then one thing led to another and...here we are.”

“He’d said he wanted experience.” Michael was pink, too, Ashton noted. Interesting.

“Why didn’t anyone tell me after that? If you all like me.” Ashton really didn’t know why he felt so hurt by it. It wasn’t like he wanted in on whatever this was, was it? Sure, he’d thought about it a couple times, but it wasn’t like he’d ever thought it was a possibility. Now that it was...he was surprised to find that dating his three best friends really didn’t sound as strange as he would’ve expected. “How long has this been going on?”

“About a month or two.” Calum answered the easier question first. Ashton really couldn’t fault him for it, but he really wanted an answer to his first question. The straight jacket tightened a little, imagining the people he was closest to, the people he trusted with his life, tiptoeing around him to avoid telling him about the love and comfort they’d found in each other. He knew it was imaginary, but he could almost feel the burn of the salt water in his throat with the way his breathing felt shallow. He knew it wasn’t real, was just that tightness that happened now, but it didn’t make it any less shitty; like his bandmates had all figured out how they fit together, a three piece puzzle with no need for a fourth, an extra piece in the box, meant to go to another, but now was void of purpose.

“We just didn’t know how to tell you, Ashy.” Luke took the harder question, softness in his eyes and in his voice. “We love you. We just...fell into this. We didn’t know how to do it deliberately. We didn’t- I didn’t know if you liked us - me - back. We didn’t want you to quit the band or hate us for it.”

That made it worse, jacket tightening a little around his heart, squeezing in sympathy to the worry he could see in Luke’s face, mirrored by the other two. He didn’t want them to worry about his reactions like that. “I’d never hate you. Any of you.” His lips pulled down, into a frown, gaze falling heavy on each of their faces for a moment. “You could’ve told me.” He took as deep a breath as he could manage, the straight jacket not wanting him to have even a moment of respite, slowly becoming a tangible weight around his chest. “I...want in. I do like you all back. I might just need a bit to get used to having three-”

Luke’s face broke into a bright grin, happiness exuding from his entire body. He shifted over to extend a hand to Ashton. “This calls for a group cuddle.”

Michael laughed, the sentiment echoed by Calum, still at Ashton’s side. Calum’s hand had slid from his arm to slide into his own at some point, so Calum squeezed it before letting go so he could nudge Ashton forward gently, until he reached the bed. He took Luke’s still outstretched hand, Michael rolling over so Luke could tug him to lay down on the bed. Calum pressed in along his left side, Luke taking his right, pressing along the length of his body, head resting on his chest. Micheal scooted in to smush against Luke’s back, hand creeping over Luke’s side to find Ashton’s hand. It was like they knew he needed the extra reassurance, the help to adjust to the new relationship.

“We can talk everything over in the morning,” Calum murmured, like he knew Ashton’s mind was running away from him, thoughts piling in on themselves so fast he couldn’t keep up. And he probably did, he’d known Ashton long enough to know how he worked. And that fact - and being beneath the warm pile of boys he loved with his whole heart - was comforting.

As Ashton felt himself grow sleepy, he realized the tightness in his chest was gone, for the first time in weeks. It was replaced, now, with the comforting weight of Calum’s arms around him, Luke’s head on his chest, Michael’s hand in his resting on his stomach. He took a deep breath, reveling in the fact that he could freely, now, and let himself drift off, his boys - his boyfriends - around him, calm and refreshing, like a fresh breath of air after so long without,

No one is entirely sure who starts it, but all bets are on Luke. It’s only noticeable once it becomes a Thing. When Luke leans in to press a quick kiss to whoever’s cheek is closest any time he has to leave. It gets extra noticeable when they all start leaning into it. 

It remains just that, an unspoken Thing that none of them broach, left alone and quiet so no one really has to think about the implications or what it means.That was, of course, until Michael decided he was going to go against the unspoken rule, and bring it up when they’re clustered in the kitchen. Minus Luke, who was off doing god knows what. 

“Luke’s been extra clingy lately,” Michael started, gaze shifting from Calum to Ashton and back again. His tone was conversational, but it was clear - to Ashton, at least - that he was trying to go somewhere with it. Trying to push for information. He was perched on the counter, legs swinging in the very I’m-not-always-aware-of-what-my-body-is-doing sort of way that was very Michael. 

Calum sipped his coffee, letting out a hum. “He’s always clingy.” It seemed like Calum wanted to talk about it about as much as Ashton did. 

“Okay, yeah, but he kissed you this morning,” Michael pointed out, like it meant something. And maybe it did, Ashton just really didn’t want to think about it. He liked the dynamics they had. Questioning anything Luke did was just a good way to get confused; he rarely knew what he was doing enough to explain it to others, figuring out his logic was complicated in its own right. 

“He did,” Calum agreed, sly smile coming onto his face. It had only been a kiss on the cheek, no cause for alarm. But, for Ashton, it was still very much cause for alarm. Maybe.  “Are you jealous?”

Michael started, expression shifting into the annoyed scowl he’d perfected years ago. “No! I’m just- I just meant he’s been weirdly clingy lately. Fuck off, Cal.”

Ashton snorted at that, unable to help himself. “You sound jealous.” He didn’t like stoking the fire of Michael’s annoyance - or continuing pointless arguments - but it was easier than the subject matter at hand. He didn’t want to think about the way his stomach twisted at the thought of Luke kissing all of them the way he was, didn’t want to understand what or why he was feeling. 

“Fuck off,” was Michael’s eloquent response, leaning back against the wall, swinging his legs again, so his heels hit against the cabinets below in time with Ashton’s rapid heartbeat. Bump bump. Bump bump. At least his heartbeat wasn’t scuffing the paint.

“Seriously,” Michael said, leaning forward a little, fringe in his eyes. Ashton didn’t brush it out this time the way he normally did, hand staying firmly on his mug of coffee. “What’s up with him?”

“I think he’s just lonely or something, Mikey,” Calum consoled, taking over the position of peacemaker in Ashton’s determined silence. “Either that or he’s got a crush on you.” He poked at Michael’s thigh, trying to keep things lighthearted. 

Michael squirmed over slightly with a laugh. “Fuck off,” he said, for the third time since they’d gathered in the kitchen twenty minutes ago, long enough to brew a pot of coffee and have uncomfortable conversations. “No, really. I don’t think he does. He’s doing it to all of us. You and Ashton included.” His gaze flickered over to Ashton. So he really did want to talk about it. 

“Okay, and?” Calum glanced over at Ashton before back to Michael. “What about it?”

“It’s weird, that’s what.” Michael leaned back against the upper cabinets again, head hitting them with a soft thunk. “He didn’t always do that.”

Ashton wasn’t listening so much anymore. He sipped his coffee, gaze somewhere on the cabinets above Michael’s brightly dyed hair. He was distracted, caught up in his own thoughts, memories of a few weeks ago before this all started. Nimble fingers tugging at his shirt buttons, laughter lost against his lips when they’d stumbled, teeth catching his lower lip, blonde curls silky between his fingers when he’d reached out and tugged. It hadn’t gotten far - not near as far as they’d anticipated - they’d been too sober for it to seem anything but too comfortable. It had been Ashton to voice his concerns first - should we be doing this, is this okay, what if the others find out - and Luke had pulled back, disappointment in his eyes like he’d expected it to be easy. He still remembered just how cold his sheets had felt, empty and bare the way they had been since that night. No late night Luke crawling in because he got lonely and needed company, or because he had a bad dream and needed consolation, or because he wanted to talk about his dreams for the band, for them, and Ashton was always willing to listen. 

Ashton drained his coffee mug and set it into the sink maybe a little harder than he should have, deciding he didn’t want to be part of the conversation, and turned to leave the kitchen. The last thing he caught was Michael’s “Fuck, what’s gotten into him?”

*****

It doesn’t get brought up for a few days, giving Ashton a short but sweet respite from having to think about the unhappiness simmering in the pit of his stomach, the way it twisted whenever he caught Luke kissing the other two, something a little too close to jealousy for his comfort, even if Ashton determinedly didn’t think about it, or which way it went.

Luke settled himself into Calum’s lap on the couch, ruining whatever game he’d been trying to play against Michael. “Come on, that’s cheating!” Calum laughed, hands abandoning the controller to drop to Luke’s waist, anyway, trying to look around him at the screen. 

“All’s fair in love and war,” Michael sang triumphantly, grin on his face as he crossed the finish line in Mario Kart, tossing his controller down to do a victory dance that was more an aborted flail of his limbs, shimmying a little in place, complete with sticking his tongue out in the most mature display of bragging Michael was capable of.

“This isn’t love or war,” Calum pointed out, though he didn’t look too put out that he’d lost, anyway. 

“What are you talking about? Mario Kart counts as war,” Michael said, at the same time Luke said “it might be love.”

And that got everyone’s attention, three pairs of eyes snapping up to Luke’s face almost instantly.. “What did you say?” Ashton finally spoke up from where he was sitting in the armchair, glancing up from his phone screen in time to watch Luke turn pink. The kind of pink that reminded him of when it got cold and Luke refused to wear a jacket, just so he could steal Ashton’s, or Calum’s or Michael’s. His nose just wasn’t pink, now, but the colour of his face certainly made up for that.

Luke was the most attention-driven of the four of them - though Calum certainly didn’t mind it at all, most of the time - so him blushing was a little bit strange. Which was only confounded by his equally strange response. “I didn’t say anything,” he said, clearly avoiding the question. “Maybe we should order pizza.”

“Fuck yeah,” Michael said, easily bought and distracted. 

“Wait-“ Ashton said, trying to ask again. 

“You heard him,” Calum said with a grin, squeezing Luke’s hips just to make him shift on his lap and laugh. “He said he loooooooves us.” His hands creeped up to poke at his sides. 

“Cal! Stop!” Luke managed to get through his giggles, as Calum started actively tickling his sides. 

Ashton just frowned a little bit, sinking further into the chair. When Michael wanted to talk about complicated things, they all had to comply. But, apparently, not when Ashton did. What was going on with the three of them, anyway? Hadn’t the tickle fights been abandoned in grade school? He didn’t want to think about the now-familiar twist in his gut. It was forming into something tangible, too, shifting and morphing to be accompanied by an ache in his chest that, if he were any more poetic, he would insist was a hole in his heart. A very Luke shaped hole. Or, more precisely, a more uncomplicated version of his band shaped hole, back when he didn’t have to think about things too much, or when he didn’t feel that awful ache when Calum had his hands up on Luke like that, Michael moving in to poke at him from the side. He wasn’t sure they’d ever fully been like this, though. Years of living in close quarters had blurred ang boundaries they may have had at one point. Ashton seemed to be the only one that had any left. 

And that, too, was its own form of miserable, feeling constantly like he was on the outside, looking in, unable to participate. The ache was back now, full force, and he pulled his gaze to the TV, even though he really wasn’t paying attention to anything anymore. He hated this feeling, hated feeling like the last one in on a joke, or like he was always the one dragging his feet. It went along with being the reasonable one, though, and he couldn’t abandon that, or Luke would try and microwave eggs again and they’d burn the whole place down. 

“Ashton,” Michael finally said, face flushed and words breathless, nothing but happiness in his eyes. “Can you order the pizza?”

And, just once, Ashton really hated being the reasonable one.

*******

“You have to stay still,” Luke chastised, still perched carefully in his lap. He’d insisted on doing Ashton’s makeup - though he really wasn’t sure how much of an expert Luke was on it to begin with - and as soon as he’d agreed, albeit slightly reluctantly, Luke had been climbing into his lap, eyeliner in hand. It seemed like he already knew what he wanted to do. 

“I’m not the one moving around.” And he was pretty sure about that. His hands were still on Luke’s hips, trying to hold him steady and keep from wobbling around. 

“Yeah, you are.” Luke’s breath was warm on his cheek, comforting in a way he wouldn’t have expected from someone who forgot to brush his teeth way too often when he was younger. He hadn’t been this close to Luke since that night, a week and a half ago, when Luke had given him that look with enough hurt to shatter his soul, and left before he could put it back together again. 

“Whatever you say.” It was easier than continuing to argue, or coming up with a well considered reply. Luke’s fingers, too, were just as warm, one hand holding his jaw to keep his head tilted up, like he needed the constant reminder, the knuckles of his other hand brushing his cheek as he worked on Ashton’s winged liner. He was reminded of those same fingers brushing against more of his bare chest with every button that opened, the way Luke felt laughing into their kiss, head tipped down slightly to meet his, eyelashes brushing Ashton’s cheek when he tipped his head just a little too far as they maneuvered to the bed. He could feel the rhythmic in and out of his breathing, his heartbeat steady in its cage, too, because of how close they were now, Luke leaning over him, knees bracketing Ashton’s hips, lower legs pressed warm and steady against Ashton’s thighs. 

Luke didn’t reply, for once seeming to prefer the silence, and leaned forward instead, switching his focus to the other eye. With no noise between them, other than the sound of their breathing, all Ashton could really focus on was the sound of his own heartbeat, thudding a too-fast rhythm in his chest like he was at his drum kit working out his emotions, letting the steady thud of his bass drum drown out anything else he could be thinking about. And, god, he wished he was there now, instead of here, fingers a little lower than they should be, thoughts flickering between Luke and his unending warmth and presence, and the other guys in the band, and what they would do if they walked in to see Luke in his lap, so close Ashton could feel his breath, smell the blue jolly rancher he’d had in his mouth before he’d started this whole thing. It was too complicated, too many things to focus on at once, and he was trying to keep his mind in one place. It just wasn’t working very well. 

“There,” Luke said at last, letting go of his eye and pulling back. “Now you just need lipstick.”

Ashton opened his eyes, immediately preparing to argue. “Wait, I thought you said-“

“I said I was doing your makeup. Makeup includes lipstick,” Luke cut him off, having seemingly expected Ashton’s trepidation. 

He leaned over and grabbed the tube of lipstick before leaning over him again. “Open your mouth a little,” he instructed, opening the lipstick and slowly starting to apply it once Ashton obeyed him. His hands were surprisingly steady, now, no hint of the nervous tremor he had sometimes in interviews, hand slipping soundlessly into Ashton’s underneath the table where no one could see. Not that it really mattered if they did, but people could be unkind, and they didn’t need any more rumors about their band. Not after the one about Michael and Calum sleeping together - or, worse, the one where all of them had been. 

As far as rumors went, it wasn’t the worst. It didn’t bring good things for the band, though, not with social stigma being the way it was. But it wasn’t the worst thought, being with the three guys. They were his closest friends, and the people he trusted with his life. And it was absolutely, without a doubt, leagues about the rumor where he had been a cheater. He hadn’t had a girlfriend, or a partner, or anyone, but someone had run a story flat out saying he’d cheated on some girl. That had taken a lot of fixing, and no one had been pleased. He remembered how angry Michael had been on his behalf, threatening to call the publisher and ‘give them a piece of his mind’, Luke having already taken the position of comforting Ashton, sliding his hand into his to give him something to hold. He hadn’t been that broken up about it, honestly, but it had been touching, the way they all came together to try and help. He still remembered Calum pulling him aside later, hand on his shoulder and concerned frown that he wore so well already on his face, asking if he was okay or if he needed a hug, and that he would get one anyway. And yeah, if he had to date more than one person, they’d probably be a good choice. 

“Done!” Luke announced, smiling a little. He shifted back on Ashton’s thighs to inspect his work, head tilting to the right, when Calum and Michael came in. 

“Honey, I’m home!” Michael called as he walked in, laughing slightly to himself afterward. Calum just rolled his eyes fondly as they stepped across the doorframe, both pausing a little in place as they caught sight of Luke and Ashton. 

“Whoa.” Michael was the first to speak. “You look good, Ash. Got a hot date later?”

“Yeah,” Ashton replied, getting over his momentary shock of being walked in on with Luke still in his lap, hands just a little too tight on his hips. “With your mum.”

Michael snorted, but it earned him an actual laugh from Calum. “You do look good. The lipstick looks nice. And I like the little heart on your cheekbone.” He tapped a finger against his own face, presumably where the heart was on Ashton’s. 

“You added a heart?” Ashton asked. That explained what he’d been doing there, then. 

Luke shrugged. “It looks cute.”

“It does look cute. You look ready to do a little dance for us, Ash,” Michael continued, ever the supportive friend. “Could always toss on a skirt.” He sounded less cutting and more intrigued than he was probably aiming for. Calum just gave him a look and, since he was closest, poked him in the ribs to make him squirm away. “It was a compliment!” Michael squawked  in his own defense, hand coming up to defend his ribs. 

“I’m ordering takeout,” Calum said, changing the subject. “I don’t feel like cooking. And no pizza this time,” he directed at Michael with a look. 

Luke just shifted on Ashton’s lap, drawing his attention back to him. “You do look good, Ash.”

“Yeah,” he said. Swallowed. Continued. “Thanks.”

Luke just gave him a smile that had no right being as soft or as loving as it was. The strange ache in his chest was back full force, longing for something he couldn’t have, accompanied by his heart fluttering, trapped in a too-small cage and begging for release. “You’re welcome.”

*********

His respite is short, and a little less than sweet. Calum sat next to him on the couch, maybe two days after the makeup incident. “What are we watching?”

“I don’t know,” Ashton said, looking up from his phone to look at the TV. “It looks like the Avengers. I’m not really watching, if you want to change it.” He dropped the remote into Calum’s lap, attention going back to his phone. He had his suspicions about what this was, Calum coming to talk to him about ‘whatever had been going on with him lately’, the same way Ashton always did whenever one of the others was upset. He didn’t like seeing his role from the other side, didn’t want to be comforted or talk about it. He was fine, perfectly fucking fine, even if his chest ached sometimes in a way he couldn’t name (wouldn’t name, didn’t want the j word to ring true even in his own mind), especially when he felt like the others were in on some fucking secret he wasn’t, like the other day with Luke, in Calum’s lap.

He realized he’d stiffened at some point when Calum wrapped an arm around his shoulders, tugging him into his side, rubbing at his shoulder and arm like he was trying to comfort him. Ashton really didn’t want to be comforted, didn’t need it, he was a fully functional adult who absolutely wasn’t bothered. Calum was unrelenting though, rubbing little circles onto Ashton’s shoulder with his thumb, not broaching the subject, knowing Ashton wouldn’t want to talk about it from years of friendship and experience. It hung in the air, though, tangible and almost heavy, a weight that reminded him of the same tightness he often felt wrapped around his lungs that only loosened slightly when he was with Luke - or, he supposed, if he’d actually talk about it. Like Luke was a breath of fresh air, and he was a drowning man who’d just gotten his head above water, breathing in deep and not caring about the salty water that burned on the way down. 

And maybe that was alright, because Calum was warm, and comfortable. He’d leaned his head on him at some point, pillowed against Calum’s thick hoodie covered shoulder. And if he fell asleep there, warm and comforted, lulled to peace and relaxation by the steady in and out of Calum's breathing, and his heartbeat, and the familiar smell of his Calvin Klein cologne, then that was okay, too.  

If Luke came in an hour later, fingers tangled with Michael’s, and eyes burning bright with some unnameable emotion, some new fire in his soul, looking at Ashton like he was daring him - begging him - to understand him, then maybe that was made just a little more bearable by the comforting, unmoving weight of Calum’s arm around his shoulders.

***********

Ashton’s a little later getting home, having to make the grocery run alone because the others had been busy. He finished putting them away - really, did Michael have to leave fucking cereal all over the counter? Clean the fuck up - before wandering into the living room in search of the guys. He was expecting them to be all sprawled out on the couches, taking up as much space as humanly possible while keeping some sort of contact with each other, the way they normally did.

He was not expecting them to have yanked a shit ton of blankets and pillows onto the floor to form a giant nest, all snuggled in together like they’d done a few times when they were younger. Before they’d all grown up and moved past the phase where cuddling in together in a giant pile felt completely natural, and no one was that bothered by the others’ morning wood and Michael’s incessant dick jokes. Looking at them now, though, Ashton couldn’t help but wonder if he was the only one that had grown past that. He’d thought it had been a natural shift, all of them growing up and out of it. Maybe they’d just slowly started leaving him out of it.

Luke seemed awfully comfortable with his head on Calum’s chest, fingers laced together with Michael’s, their hands laying on Calum’s stomach. Michael, on Calum’s other side, definitely seemed comfortable, both of his arms wrapped around Calum and Luke, face pressed in against Calum’s left shoulder, several steps above where Ashton had been with him a few days prior in terms of intimacy.

For the first time since he’d gotten used to being in the band, being included - since the other three had assured him they cared about him, and he was part of them - he felt like he’d stumbled in on something private, something secret, something not for his viewing. The feeling was only solidified when Luke laughed at something on screen, turning to press his smile into Calum’s chest, eyes coming up to meet Calum’s with nothing but love shining bright. Nothing like the smoldering fire he’d had when he’d looked at Ashton the other day.

None of them had noticed him yet, making it easy to turn tell and head back to the safety of his bedroom. It wasn’t easy to forget how happy, how peaceful they’d all looked. Calum’s hand carding through Luke’s curls like he wasn’t thinking about it, Michael brushing his thumb over Luke’s knuckles, half asleep on Calum’s shoulder, the absolute love and adoration in Luke’s eyes.

And Ashton didn’t get it. Didn’t know when they’d started this back up again, didn’t know why he hadn’t been included. If he wanted to be included. How long had they been doing that again? How long had they been waiting for Ashton to leave so they could all curl up together without having to worry about him catching them, ruining it somehow? The thought of that was enough to fuck up anything else. He’d thought they were a team, close as a group as well as individually. He guessed he was wrong, though, if they felt the need to tiptoe around him the way they were. How long? How long had they been wanting to avoid him, for stolen moments together?

The thought was enough to bring that tightness back, curling up and around his lungs, cutting off his breath so every inhale feels sharp and heady. His heart was still caught in its cage, too small, too painful, each staccato beat catching him off guard, pounding loud and heavy in his ears in the suffocating silence of the empty room. Bathed in shadow and darkness, he didn’t bother turning on the light, preferring to avoid the harshness, preferring to not have to think too much beyond the moment.

If Ashton spent the rest of his evening wrapped up in his covers, lights staying off, in pseudo approximation of sleep, then no one had to know. And if he got himself off, hand around himself in the cover of darkness, with Luke’s name on his lips, mind chasing could-have-beens, memory somewhere in that night of Almost, hatred for himself potent in every movement of his body, then no one had to know.

********

He managed to make it almost a week, creeping around the other guys so he’s not caught with them in one place for too long. He could see the worry in their eyes, in the way Calum’s gaze shifts to Luke, or Michael, any time they’re all together for a moment, in the crease of his brow and the small tilt of his head. Calum had mastered silent communication years ago, and Ashton refused to remember that it had originally been for the two of them, exasperated sometimes with Michael picking on Luke, or someone asking them a stupid question. So it was a new kind of pain to see that being used against him.

His luck didn’t last long, though, before Calum caught him by the arm, concerned frown on his face. “Okay, what is going on with you?” He asked, leaving little room for the caginess Ashton had been favouring lately. As Ashton opened his mouth to reply, Calum spoke again. “And don’t you dare say nothing, you’ve been avoiding us for a week. That isn’t normal. Not for you.” 

Ashton deliberated for a moment on whether he wanted to be honest. In the end, Calum’s earnest, worried face is what tipped the scales for him, and he decided on replying with candor. “I saw you guys, a week ago.” Calum’s frown deepened, and Ashton felt the now-familiar twist in his gut. “I figured you wanted some time to yourselves, since you seemed like you were awfully comfortable doing that.” 

“Ashton-”

“And like a week before that, I thought Luke wanted to fuck me and then he left and wouldn’t talk to me after, and then started fucking kissing you guys and still wouldn’t talk about it. So I really don’t know what’s going on with you guys, but it’s pretty fucking clear I’m not invited.” He didn’t know what possessed him to blurt the rest of it out, but it was too late now, anyway. And the tightness around his chest, like someone had wrapped saran wrap around his chest as tight as they could, constricting everything in the worst possible way, loosened just a bit with his words. So maybe it was just that little bit worth it, even as Calum chewed on his lower lip in thought.

“You are invited,” he finally said, and what the fuck was that supposed to mean? Ashton didn’t get the chance to ask before Calum was taking his arm again and pulling him down the hall to Michael’s room.

“Calum, what the fuck-” was all Ashton managed to get out before Calum was knocking on the door and letting them in. 

Michael was sprawled out on his stomach, feet on his pillow at the head of the bed, scrolling on his phone. Luke was next to him, leaning against the wall, also distracted by his phone. They looked up immediately when Calum dragged Ashton in.

“We have to tell him,” Calum said, gaze shifting from Luke to Michael and back again. “He saw us cuddling and thought we didn’t want him around.” He looked at Luke. “And he thinks you don’t like him, or don’t want him, after you started whatever that was and stopped.”

Ashton was...fucking confused, to say the least. What the fuck was going on? Why did Luke look all guilty? And seriously, what the fuck did Calum want them to tell him? God, if they were all fucking, he was quitting the band.

“We’re all….together,” Luke said, words slow and methodical like he was actually trying to think about what he was saying, stringing words together carefully so he made sense, which wasn’t always his strong suit. Ashton had to translate for him, sometimes, when they were talking to someone else. It was strange to be on the receiving end. “Kind of. Um. And that night- well, I like you- we like you- so I was trying to figure out how to tell you.” Luke flushed, light pink dusting his cheeks, slightly tan from the summer sun. “But then you started asking questions, and I didn’t know how to answer any of them, and I panicked.”

Michael’s hand moved to take Luke’s, fingers lacing together like it was the most natural thing in the world. And for them, it probably was. They’d been doing this for god knew how long, tiptoeing around Ashton carefully so they wouldn’t have to explain. And sure, maybe Ashton didn’t entirely get it yet, and had too many questions, but wasn’t that to be expected, since he was the last to join? They already had an idea of how they worked as...a slightly more romantic relationship, or whatever they were. Ashton didn’t. The constricting tightness was back, not as bad now, but very prevalent in the face of realizing that he was right, he had intentionally been left out. It felt like a straight jacket, restricting his movements and keeping him stuck in place, Calum’s hand still warm where it held his arm, his mind moving a few paces slower than he would have liked. His breathing, at least, felt a little steadier, a little more even, even if each one felt strange through the tightness of his imaginary straight jacket.

“You’re all...together?” Ashton finally managed to get out, the three others looking at him expectantly, waiting on his answer. His gaze lingered on Luke’s nervous face. He didn’t want to make him feel nervous, wanted to wipe the nerves from his face and console him until he felt better, wrapped up in Ashton’s arms like they’d done before this whole mess started. “Dating?”

Michael looked at Calum uneasily, like the answer was written on his forehead. In reality, they were just doing Calum’s silent communication thing. “We...haven’t really talked about it like that,” he said, just as slowly as Luke. “But, uh. Yeah. I guess. We’re all exclusive, and just like each other. We haven’t told anyone yet, and were trying to...well, we were trying to figure out how to tell you and ask you to join.”

“Which was what Luke was doing,” Calum added, even though Luke had already explained that part. Although, what they hadn’t explained was-

“How did you all start?” Ashton asked. If it was so hard to tell him, then how had it started for the other three? He didn’t imagine it was easy.

Luke flushed darker at that, shrinking down a little in place. Calum was the one who actually answered. “I walked in on Michael and Luke kissing. Then we sort of talked about it, and figured out we all liked each other. Then one thing led to another and...here we are.”

“He’d said he wanted experience.” Michael was pink, too, Ashton noted. Interesting.

“Why didn’t anyone tell me after that? If you all like me.” Ashton really didn’t know why he felt so hurt by it. It wasn’t like he wanted in on whatever this was, was it? Sure, he’d thought about it a couple times, but it wasn’t like he’d ever thought it was a possibility. Now that it was...he was surprised to find that dating his three best friends really didn’t sound as strange as he would’ve expected. “How long has this been going on?”

“About a month or two.” Calum answered the easier question first. Ashton really couldn’t fault him for it, but he really wanted an answer to his first question. The straight jacket tightened a little, imagining the people he was closest to, the people he trusted with his life, tiptoeing around him to avoid telling him about the love and comfort they’d found in each other. He knew it was imaginary, but he could almost feel the burn of the salt water in his throat with the way his breathing felt shallow. He knew it wasn’t real, was just that tightness that happened now, but it didn’t make it any less shitty; like his bandmates had all figured out how they fit together, a three piece puzzle with no need for a fourth, an extra piece in the box, meant to go to another, but now was void of purpose.

“We just didn’t know how to tell you, Ashy.” Luke took the harder question, softness in his eyes and in his voice. “We love you. We just...fell into this. We didn’t know how to do it deliberately. We didn’t- I didn’t know if you liked us - me - back. We didn’t want you to quit the band or hate us for it.”

That made it worse, jacket tightening a little around his heart, squeezing in sympathy to the worry he could see in Luke’s face, mirrored by the other two. He didn’t want them to worry about his reactions like that. “I’d never hate you. Any of you.” His lips pulled down, into a frown, gaze falling heavy on each of their faces for a moment. “You could’ve told me.” He took as deep a breath as he could manage, the straight jacket not wanting him to have even a moment of respite, slowly becoming a tangible weight around his chest. “I...want in. I do like you all back. I might just need a bit to get used to having three-”

Luke’s face broke into a bright grin, happiness exuding from his entire body. He shifted over to extend a hand to Ashton. “This calls for a group cuddle.”

Michael laughed, the sentiment echoed by Calum, still at Ashton’s side. Calum’s hand had slid from his arm to slide into his own at some point, so Calum squeezed it before letting go so he could nudge Ashton forward gently, until he reached the bed. He took Luke’s still outstretched hand, Michael rolling over so Luke could tug him to lay down on the bed. Calum pressed in along his left side, Luke taking his right, pressing along the length of his body, head resting on his chest. Micheal scooted in to smush against Luke’s back, hand creeping over Luke’s side to find Ashton’s hand. It was like they knew he needed the extra reassurance, the help to adjust to the new relationship.

“We can talk everything over in the morning,” Calum murmured, like he knew Ashton’s mind was running away from him, thoughts piling in on themselves so fast he couldn’t keep up. And he probably did, he’d known Ashton long enough to know how he worked. And that fact - and being beneath the warm pile of boys he loved with his whole heart - was comforting.

As Ashton felt himself grow sleepy, he realized the tightness in his chest was gone, for the first time in weeks. It was replaced, now, with the comforting weight of Calum’s arms around him, Luke’s head on his chest, Michael’s hand in his resting on his stomach. He took a deep breath, reveling in the fact that he could freely, now, and let himself drift off, his boys - his boyfriends - around him, calm and refreshing, like a fresh breath of air after so long without,

[twopoppies]

Hiiii, i dont know if you’ve done this before but i wanted to ask if you have some ficrecs but with Harry’s pov?? (it could be both too tho Louis’ and Harry’s) Lately i’ve been reading a lot of fics in louis’ pov and i loved them ! but i think it would be nice to read fics with harry’s pov and to see how authors develop his character, also with a happy ending and without a mcd please 🥺 i love your fic recs so much, thank u in advance 💕

Hey there! Sorry this took me a bit – life (and fandom) has been a little nuts. I love this request because I actually notice that too – there do seem to be more fics written from Louis’ POV. I’m not sure if I ran the numbers if that’s actually true, but it feels that way. The thing I think is the most interesting is how much the characterizations change from year to year. Anyway, let’s see what I can suggest:

💚 Secrets, Santa? By @indiaalphawhiskey (E, 19K) disaster gay Harry in all his bumbling, endearing glory still manages to make his incredibly hot boss (Louis) fall for him. This one has snappy dialogue, great internal monologue, and scorching smut. I’d expect nothing less from this author.

💚 no one's gonna know by jishler / @snowjosh (E, 9K) This author always does such a wonderful job of writing an established relationship fic where there’s so much warmth and expression between the characters, while also showing how much lust and passion there is. This is chock full of edging, exhibitionism, and dom/sub dynamics and it’s such a good read.

💚 gathered on wings by Brooklyn_Babylon / @twopoppies (E, 33K)

What Harry Styles wanted was to be taken seriously as an artist.

What he needed was a new sugar daddy to pave the way.

Louis Tomlinson is an artist who isn’t what Harry is looking for.

Somehow he still manages to turn Harry's world upside down.

💚 where the tide takes you, I will follow by @pinkcords (E, 40K) First of all, I’m so happy this author is writing again! Second, everything about this was just lovely. The slow, dreamy tone of their writing fit the setting and the way Harry and Louis fell into each other so, so well. I love how descriptive their writing is without being flowery or pointless. The smut scenes were toe-curlingly sexy, and gave us beautiful insight into both of the boys. I just wanted to live inside this fic.

💚 your eyes on me (make me) by momentofclarity / @gaycousinlarry (E, 3K) Harry has a bad day at work, his roommate Louis talks him into feeling more... relaxed. I always love this author. They make even a wanking fic sound like poetry.

💚 I Love My Hands Around Your Neck by @fournipplesau (E, 6K) Hello... this was really hot. I just loved the dynamic between the two of them—you really get a sense of the difference between them when they play and how they interact when they’re not. Also, just really hot. Did I say that already? Yeah.

💚 Faking It by TheCellarDoor (M, 46K)This one is so sweet. I loved Harry's internal monologue... his insecurities and thoughts that he'd made Louis uncomfortable because he liked, him made me cry. Louis is so soft and supportive. It’s just a lovely fic.

💚 But If This Ends by nonsensedarling / @absoloutenonsense (E, 107K) This author referred to this fic as their “depressed vampire” fic while they were writing, and it is that. But it’s also a unique story with beautifully fleshed out characters, plot twists, and super hot smut. Go check it out! (Link is to a download)

💚 Tiptoe Through Our Shiny City by graceling_in_a_suit / @graceling-in-a-suit (T, 8K) This one is quirky and charming, with great banter and a fun premise. It’s also one of the only fics I’ve read where Harry is demisexual. I really enjoyed this one.

💚 you’re writing lines about me by snazzyasalways (T, 4K) This is gorgeously written on that Dreamy, poetic style I happen to love. Louis is a blind poet, Harry is a baker, Harry falls in love with Louis’ words, then with him.

💚 this is my jam by @disgruntledkittenface (M, 5K) where are all the gay bathhouse fics? This is the first one I’ve read in this fandom and I loved it. This author beautifully captured a sense of the times, the atmosphere, and the character’s connection and humanity in under 5K, and you really should read it.

💚Everything You Do by jishler / @snowjosh (E, 7K) This is my favorite of a 3-part collection (all of which are good), and wow. The author explores gender struggles in way that is incredibly tender and emotional, while still writing a super sexy fic. Loved this one.

💚Diamonds and Pearls by superglass (NR, 7K) Absolutely gorgeous writing. Tender, delicate, dreamy. Set in NY in the 1980s, so read the tags. I just really loved this one and look forward to reading more of this author’s writing.

💚And Touch Me Like You Never  by runaway_train / @runaway-train-works (E, 36K) I really enjoyed how this author handled Harry’s confusion and growing attraction and eventual sexuality crisis. That, along with the angst and very sexy smut, made it a really good read.

💚 call you mine by @falsegoodnight (E, 13K) Vampire Harry sets out to prove that being bit by a vampire is much better than Louis thinks it is. Sexy friends to lovers goodness!

💚 Forever, Uninterrupted by sparkk (E, 9K) Written in Harry’s POV, this one is sexy and emotional, with great dirty talk and some serious jealousy on Harry’s part. I really enjoyed this one a lot.

💚 an entire desert in our hourglass by tofiveohfive / @sunflowrsix (E, 20K) I told the author when I read this, that I really appreciated the pain they wove into this story because they did such a good job making the emotions relatable—even with a pre-apocalyptic setting—so the feeling cut even deeper. Such a good read. And even though the tags said there was a happy ending (which there is), I still cried buckets.

💚 give me forever for a while by mercutionotromeo (E, 5K) This one involves a collar, but in a slightly different way – this time it’s kitten play. I always love the way this author writes their smut and this one is full of dirty talk and soft dom Louis using Harry.

💚 redder than the devil by mercutionotromeo (E, 5K) This short fic has so many kinks and so much smut that I probably could add it to 10 different rec lists. I love this author and hope they keep gifting us with their writing.

💚 Hello Heaven (you are tunnel-lined with yellow lights) by objectlesson (E, 3K) Baby boyfriends discovering kinks. Lingerie, embarrassment, feminization….plus really good writing. (Link is to a DropBox download)

💚skip a beat and move with my body by crybaby (E, 6K) Harry, Louis, Zayn. So, Harry and Louis are roommates. Harry kinda sorta pays his rent by sleeping with Louis. And anyone else he wants to share Harry with. It’s filthy and I kind of love it.

💚 once bitten and twice shy by @pinkcords (M, 19K) First of all, for a first fic in this fandom, I thought this author really did a nice job with their characterizations. I especially liked the way they captured Harry’s anger and humiliation and stubbornness. There’s a beefy epilogue as well which I haven’t had a chance to read!

💚come and lay down your shoulder by HappyPrincess / @pattern-pals (E, 4K) This was such a nice mix of sadness, neediness, and being with someone who understands you and whom you understand. Like, you know them so well, even if you’re not together anymore.

💚 Only Write By The Moon by orphan_account (E, 5K) This is basically pure smut, but this author has such a beautiful way with words…even smut sounds poetic.

💚 deleted your number (so i can’t call you) by tofiveohfive / @sunflowrsix I think this author does such a great job with writing realistically about breakups and the emotions that are involved. Things aren’t just suddenly solved -- there’s still anger and hurt and a realization that better communication is needed. It’s just very refreshing to read. And of course, I cried.

💚 sonic sounds by orphan_account (E, 6K) So, so smutty and such a sexy exploration of kink discovery.

💚 the best part of me (was always you) by @moonshinelouis-archive (E, 6K) Gorgeous writing. The descriptions of heartbreak and missing someone and still loving them were really well done. And I cried. Of course.

💚 into another (another) serotonin overflow by mercutionotromeo (E, 11K) I love the way this author captures the overwhelm of teenage lust and pining in this one. And at the same time, there’s something so gentle about the way the two of them are with each other.

💚Take My Breath Away by @realitybetterthanfiction (E, 154K) This is such a wonderful, intimate characterization of Harry – you really get to see so many sides of him and this author writes them all so well. It’s action packed, funny, deeply moving, and has such a satisfying ending. 

💚Under The Hide of Me by Blake (E, 3K) I know, I know. I rec this one often. But it’s just that good. There aren’t many fics that make me feel this much in just under 3,000 words and it’s such a beautiful portrayal of this version of Harry. 

💚Caught By the Sun by metal_eye / @metal-eye (M, 19K) Sometimes you just stumble on a fic that moves you deeply and makes you feel a lot and sits with you after you’ve finished it. This was one of those fics for me. It’s beautifully written in a quiet, poetic way. It’s thoughtful, and intimate, and full of memories that are both melancholy and beautiful in all the right ways and at all the right times. And it’s a fic that’s not been read nearly enough. Do yourself a favor and make time for it. 

💚Take from me my lace (and lipstick too heavy for summer) by @metal-eye (M, 2K) Just pure poetry, like everything this author writes. This short fic makes me want to just stop every few lines to savor the words. I love the gentleness of the way they write about Harry and how vulnerable he comes across. Just lovely. 

💚gathered on wings by Brooklyn_Babylon / @twopoppies (E, 33K) This one is mine, so here’s the summary:

What Harry Styles wanted was to be taken seriously as an artist.

What he needed was a new sugar daddy to pave the way.

Louis Tomlinson is an artist who isn’t what Harry is looking for.

Somehow he still manages to turn Harry’s world upside down.

💚Divine Intervention by Awriterwrites / @a-writerwrites (E, 6K) This author is always a favorite and this short little fic really has stayed with me. There’s something very touching about it, but of course it’s all wrapped up in steamy smut because, hey…this author wouldn’t give you anything but. 

💚Your Best Fake Smile by YesIsAWorld / @louandhazaf (GA, 6K) This is a wonderfully written character study that does such a great job of really capturing both the feeling of deep depression and the soul of the location in which the fic takes place. It’s tightly written in the best possible ways – not one superfluous word. 

💚For Reasons Wretched and Divine by @indiaalphawhiskey (E, 95K) Yes, I’ve recc’d this one because it’s so well written. One of the (many) things I love is how subtly the author shows the difference between the POV of high school Harry and adult Harry. Beautiful writing (always)

💚gorgeous (it makes me so mad) by resurrectdead (E, 30K) this one is just a lot of fun: great banter, disaster gay Harry, tattoo artist Louis, great smut…it’s a good time. 

💚Never Mind the Furthermore by Anonymous (E, 7K) Pining, phone sex, canon divergent, did I mention pining? And excellent dirty talk. I mean….maybe not an in depth character study, but it’s a really well written and sexy fic. 

💚You Come Beating Like Moth’s Wings by supernope (E, 81K) Don’t kill me, but I read this one years ago and my notes are useless, but I do remember loving it at the time. Plus, this author has written a handful of other fics I’ve really liked, so I’m once again trusting past me.  

💚Red Brick Heart by hazmesentir (E, 98K) Uni AU written back in 2013, so the characterizations may feel a little dated, but it’s still such a good read. Plus, it’s got the whole OT5 and Little Mix gang as friends/suite mates!

💚maybe by momentofclarity / @gaycousinlarry (GA, 2K) I adore this fic. Yes, it’s really short, but it’s so moving. The author manages to capture that scary feeling of knowing you need to take a risk because this could be something really special. Bonus points for “older larry”.

💚The End Should Be A Good One by bananasandboots / @anylessreal (M, 43K) I really like the way this author writes the complexity of emotions that come with heartbreak and reconciliation in this one. It’s really moving and, oh what a surprise, it made me cry! 

💚the moon made me think of you by anabsolution (E, 16K) I read this one ages ago so my notes only say that I loved it, it’s sweet, sexy, and fluffy. Past me is really annoying. LOL! 

💚to hell with romancing by @bottomlinsons (E, 8K) This one is canon divergent and completely quirky and hilarious. Harry’s internal monologue kills me every time I read it. 

💚we wreak havoc with our hearts by flimsy (E, 9K) This canon divergent fic is mostly pining and smut, but Harry’s hurt and longing come through so well. 

💚honey is it time to spin by alongthewatchtower (NR, 4K) Well, I wouldn’t say this gives you a developed characterization so much as it’s just plain filth from Harry’s POV. But I’m throwing it in anyway because, well…I LOVE this author and this is my fic rec. LOL! 

💚down in atlantis by polka_stripes / @polkadotsvstripes (E, 9K) I love the unique way the time lapse is broken up in this fic and the way this Harry looks at his world and how it changes as he gets to know Louis. It’s just lovely writing and another one of those fics that more people should read.  

💚take my hand (and my heart and soul) by bananasandboots / @anylessreal (M, 46K) Following Harry as he pieces his life back together in this amnesia fic is just heartbreaking (needless to say, I cried), but it’s beautifully written.

💚kiwi by @fondleeds (M, 24K) honestly I have trouble putting down anything this author writes…they just build a setting and detail characters in a way that I find really compelling. This one maybe feels slightly OOC, but it’s such a good read I didn’t care at all.  

💚Through Eerie Chaos by mediawhore / @mediawhorefics (GA, 102K) I adore this fic and yes I know I keep reccing it, but I don’t care. It’s an all time favorite and the way this author writes Harry is one of the reason the love story and the ending work so well for me. So…read it. LOL! 

💚The Melody You Never Heard by bananasandboots / @anylessreal (E, 30K) Another fic I read ages ago, but I like so many of this authors fics, so I’m going to trust past me who noted, “Great banter, great pacing, hot smut, great characterizations. Very well written”.

💚You Drive Me Crazy (I Just Can’t Sleep) by objectlesson (E, 19K) This author does xfactor Larry in a way I love so much. This one, from Harry’s POV, gives you a taste of his longing and confusion and overwhelm written in the most palpable way. 

💚 You’ll Breathe Me In (You Won’t Release) by LoadedGunn (E, 95K) Also known as The Driving Instructor fic. This has some of the best pacing I’ve read in a fic, some really well written BDSM smut, and characters I just really enjoy. I know it’s not for everyone. Read the tags.

I have a bunch of others that I probably have recc’d a bunch of times or which are just PWP or which have dual POV, so I left them off. I hope this gives you a bit of what you’re looking for!

[good-beans]

Hi, this is Just_a_long_nap_Please on ao3!

In my own experience, titling(?? title…ing?) has never been terribly difficult. I’m fortunate in that regard, but I’m happy to share some of my thought-process when it comes to the whole thing!! 

To pull from my own fics: “A Portrait in Blue” and “Room of Flowers” are both fics with a premise of art in them. “Room of Flowers” is the name of both an actual painting, and is discussed in the fic itself - making it a pretty cool title to use. 

“Portrait in Blue” is a little more ambiguous. I’m like…..95% sure there’s a famous painting called “Portrait in Red”, so its a callback to that. It also ties in directly with the theme(s) in the fic (which focus heavily on Shou’s developing queerplatonic relationship with Ritsu, and the way he views their shared experiences), making the title a lot clearer once you get to the part where Shou starts describing his painting. 

Those are both fairly clear-cut title examples! For something a bit more….loose? lets look at “All the Things We Left Behind” for a better example of this.

The title here (despite the fic itself being,,, woefully unfinished) draws more from the overall message that I wanted to convey in the story. It centers around a more….hm, careful? development of a romantic ritshou relationship. This one also digs into being touch-starved, and how that could effect the more “common” aspects of a relationship. 

I’ll be honest, this title really did just pop into my head. (almost) All my fics are titled from the get-go (bc I store them all pretty exclusively on ao3) and its interesting to see how many of them develop along the implications of said title. 

However! “All the Things We Left Behind” will eventually (and to an extent, currently does) delve into Ritsu and Shou exploring and expanding their comfort boundaries in a safe, respectful environment; “leaving behind” their old comforts as they learn and grow into themselves and their relationship. 

Another easy way to title fics is to pull the classic song title card!! Seriously, if you’re stuck on a title, its so freeing to just listen to some songs that vibe with your fic and pick a lyric that fits! Super easy, often meaningful, a wonderful excuse to use said lyrics as a summary as well :^) 

(fun fact: 7 out of my 48 fics are song-titled! thats uhhhh…..almost 1/7th? more like 6.8 lol but that just means that its an extremely valid way to choose a title!) 

Another thing that I’ve seen people be unsure about is doing a “one-word” title. The most common argument I’ve seen against it is that it can make your fic seem “pretensious”? Not sure how that works, but I love doing it! Its quick, snappy, and can set the tone of a fic before a reader even gets to the tags. How cool is that?? 

My best suggestion for this kind of title is to not think too hard about it. Consider a common or reccuring word (ex: “Static”) or simplify your plot down to a few words and choose the most relevant (ex: “Undercuts”). You can also be super blunt about it and just say what the fic is literally about (ex: “Heatwaves”)! You’d be surprised at just how often this tends to fit as a title for fics, in my opinion. 

Unfortunately (or perhaps….fortunately!) I’m also one of those people with sentence-long fic titles,,, some examples include “What is Fashion, Except to be Petty?”, “No Worries, I Don’t See it Either”, “Make it Last, at Least For Now”, “How to Avoid Sleep while being Productive”, and “Killing Time and Watching it Bleed”. 

Look at those!! Its a whole damn paragraph just on its own! But there’s a benefit to using these titles - you get to be more descriptive/poetic; by extension, more eye-catching to your readers. Its also easier to convey a specific vibe of a fic if you let yourself go ham with the title ;^) 

In the end, though? Its all about what you, the writer, think is best for your fic. I think it’s fun when fics say “x-character falls in love, and makes a fool of themselves”, or when they say “yes your honor, they’re both dumbasses”, OR “xyz-pairing’s Exceedingly Horrible, Miserable, Awful Date (but they dont even know its a date)”. 

Those are all wonderful too! So go wild, my friend! Don’t let titles scare you - its all about the content, in the end :^D 

(although……hmu if u have tips on summaries,,, not my strong suit lol) 

[sadlyafanofotomegames]

A Road Paved with Bad Endings - Nightshade

You know why it takes so long to talk about Nameless Bad Endings?  Because they’re so complicated and different from each other!  There’s so many bad endings.  So.  Many.  Bad.  Endings.  So why don’t we shift gears and talk about a game that limits itself to one bad ending per boy.  Sometimes you get otome games where each ending is unique and fucked up in their own special way.  And then sometimes its just “And then they died.”  And you know what?  Those endings can be just as valid.  So lets get to these shinobis and ninjas and Naruto has corrupted my vision of ninjas permanently I am so sorry.  

Nightshade is about Enju, daughter of the Koga Clan’s leader and the sister of the Iga Clan leader.  After the Iga Clan was destroyed in a war the Koga Clan absorbed the survivors.  Because of this Enju is seen as the glue keeping the Koga and Iga Clan together, and is treasured by the villagers.  But Enju wants to be a real shinobi and go on missions like everyone else.  One day she gets her wish, and travels with her childhood friends and mentor to complete a mission.  Good news, she completed the mission!  Bad news, she gets accused of killing the ruler right after.

On the way she travels with her childhood friend and bodyguard Gekkamaru, her other childhood friend and Gekkamaru’s brother Kuroyuki, and her mentor and cousin (oh no) Chojiro, as well as meeting a cold-hearted powerful ninja from another clan, Hanzo, and a libertine totally-not-a-gentleman-thief Goemon.  Who’s going to be with Enju beyond the game of life-and-death she’s been forced into?  Or in this case, who’s going to see her literal end?

General Thoughts on This Bad End Journey

So before I get to the boys I’ll just do an overview on how choices work here.  Note that I’m playing the Switch Version.  You got the boys.  You got choices.  First four chapters you make choices that the boy you want likes and then in chapter five that’s when the route starts (though some routes start a bit early, but each route’s choices still start in Chapter 5.)  If you go to the Relationships in the Menu you’ll notice the line of boys and under each one is a line of flowers.  Every time you pick a choice a boy would like, the flowers will flash on screen and the next time you check the Relationships you’ll see the flower line begin to fill in with color.  Whoever’s flower is colored in the most until chapter 4 will begin the route in 5, and to get the good end you need to continue filling the line with color as much as possible.  Don’t fill the line by the end?  Bad Ending.

This makes it pretty simple to get the ending you want.  Quick Save, make a choice, see the flowers, good.  Make a choice, don’t see the flowers, bad, quick load.  I’d recommend Quick Saving continuously if you’re like me and can’t stop smashing buttons like I’m trying to speedrun (I can read pretty fast) because if you’re not paying attention you’ll “A” yourself right into picking the first option of a choice that popped up.  I did this more times than I would like to admit to.

On the content of the choices themselves, they’re good at connecting to the themes of each boy, so even though you can depend on the flower pop-up to keep you on the path you want you can intuitively see which choices work.  This is not true for all otome games.

The Bad Endings themselves basically all lead to the same place - dead and sad.  Enju dies, then boy.  Or boy dies, then Enju.  But each ending differentiates itself in the various flavors of how the deaths occurs and the reaction to it.  Also there’s one sad song for all the bad endings and it is a mood.  Despite the simplicity of it these endings do genuinely make me sad because Enju is a cutie and I love her and how dare you do this to her and dangit now I’m fond of the boys and now they’re sad and now I’m sad and I’m listening to a sad credit song and want to eat ice cream in a empty bathtub and cry for some reason.  So lets be sad...together.  

Spoilers for each route.  Warning for Descriptions of Death and Suicide. 

Goemon - It’s All Fun and Games Until You Need to Pretend You Betrayed a Cute Girl and Cause Her to Be So Sad She Doesn’t Stop Someone From Killing Her

Goemon is a gentleman thief archetype, who’s a player (or in this case libertine?) and steals from the rich to give to the poor.  Goemon is the only real one because he doesn't give a single fuck about cops, shinobi rules or the hierarchy, and strives not to shed blood if he can help it, AND is always good to Enju (expect when he was forced to be mean and he literally cried about it later in the good ending.)  Usually I’m not for player types, but Goemon manages to pull off being flirty and playful without coming off as pervy and careless.  It helps that there’s isn’t a Mean Girl for him to flirt with to cause conflict.  But then we near the ending of the route, where Goemon has to pull off a ploy to save Enju without being able to tell her the ploy, and it sucks.  I knew it was a ploy from the start, but you still made her be sad gosh darnit!  They managed to save the good mood of the route after that spell but just thinking about it left a sour taste in my mouth.  Unless you’re in the bad end, in which case you’ll be left with the taste of TEARS.

How to Get the Bad End 

Show distrust toward Goemon.  Goemon, lets be honest here, looks a little sus.  He pressures young ladies into going out for deserts, he’s a little flirty and doesn’t seem to take things with the right amount of seriousness, you fought him on a rooftop because he’s a notorious thief you were sent to capture, you know, it might be hard for Enju to trust him.  When Enju trusts in Goemon and is ready to have a good time (no not that kind) the two really establish a bond.  But on the road to the bad end Enju always had a seed of doubt in her mind about Goemon.

What Happens

The ploy Goemon came up with was to pretend to rejoin his old shinobi clan, the Fuma Clan, and deliver Enju to the Council of the Five Elder  (who all want to be the regent for the late rulers son but need to avenge him by killing his murderer) and then double-crossing both the Lords and his old clan and escaping with Enju with them believing she died.  Unfortunately because he’s surrounded by Fuma Clan members during this ruse he couldn’t spill the beans, thus Enju was left in the dark.  Also he faked all of her friends murders.  It’s not a great feeling to become so connected to someone only to find out that they killed all your friend and will send you to your death.  

But in the good path Enju is able to still believe in Goemon.  In the bad route...she just gives up on that line of thinking.  When they reach the palace, there’s a twist Goemon wasn’t expecting.  The late ruler’s Concubine and mother of the later ruler’s son enters before any of the Lords can debate who’ll execute her and kills Enju herself, and in her despair Enju lets her.  Goemon then releases the poison that causes people to see illusions and kill each other.  Hanzo escapes with his lord Tokugawa before it hits them.

Review

This ending fits well with Goemon because its after Enju dies because of her doubt toward him that Goemon truly betrays his beliefs.  He didn’t want to kill anymore.  He didn’t want to ever use the cruel techniques he was taught as a shinobi leader.  And then he’s left holding Enju’s body covered in blood that’s not his own, tear in one eye.  Hearing the screams of lords and servants alike killing each other due to his poison.  It’s poetic. 

Hanzo - TFW You Go From Cold to Softie But Still End Up in a Double-Suicide Because You’re Girlfriend Didn’t Fully Learn Her Own Self-Worth

So Hanzo is what the kids call, a kuudere.  He’s also the oldest, being the same age as Enju’s mom.  Enju is 16-17.  I am uncomfortable.  To be fair Goemon is also around Hanzo’s age, but Goemon doesn’t act as a tutor/guardian in the way Hanzo does, so its less noticeable.  Also...he gets real saucy in the last chapter.  Saucier than the so-called libertine.  Went from 0 to 100 real fast.  There are some parts I really love about this route, but given Hanzo’s role and age-gap I feel like this is one of those ones where I wish they left out the romance altogether, but hey this wouldn’t be an otome game without the smooching, so eh. 

How to Get the Bad End

Be pessimistic, hesitant, self-defeating, make silly mistakes.  Hanzo wants Enju to be smart and willing to improve her skills.  This entire route is really about Enju’s growth, both mental and physical, in the face of overbearing odds.  So don’t do that and you’ll end up in the bad end.  There’s a loooong gap between your last choice and where the bad end hits, and in the last chapter you don’t get any more choices.  

What happens.

When Hanzo seemingly disobeys his lord’s order to kill Enju (at least, that’s what the messenger said) he planned to commit suicide.  In the good ending Enju stops him and they move on to smooches but in the bad ending...she kills him herself so that he wouldn’t have to do it.  Then she ends her life soon after.

Review

I was honestly wasn’t expected this flavor of death from this route, but I suppose its attached to the antithesis of the route.  Hanzo, first from orders and then from heart, needed Enju to live and demanded Enju to stay alive, but in the bad end she was able to kill her own lover but didn’t learn to stay alive for herself.  It’s sad, but its a little too short for me to really sink in the tragedy.  Now if you want tragedy for the entire route, well that’s what our next boy’s for.

Chojiro - This Whole Route is a Bad Ending That the Real Bad End is Almost Cathartic

Chojiro is...*long, drawn out sigh* Enju’s cousin and mentor, whom she calls “Brother Chojiro.”  Look there’s a lot of tropes common in otome games that I just can’t get behind, but here I am still playing them.  Anyway sliding that fact back under the carpet Chojiro is another seemingly cold-hearted man, but unlike Hanzo, Chojiro already has a developed bond with Enju, and that bond makes it obvious that Chojiro’s got the fuzzies deep down.  Unfortunately a lot depends on him being a shinobi who follows the rules and orders to a T, which is awkward when yer girl becomes a fugitive after being accused of murder and you’re sent to kill her.  Again, there’s parts of this route I really like if they didn’t bother with the romance.  The thing under the carpet aside I feel like there was already an established love between the two from the get go, so to have them smooch, especially after all their friends died, is a little bit...bad timing is all I’m saying.  Now the bad ending, well, that just fits right in.

How to Get the Bad End

A good chunk of the choices made are without Chojiro present at all, but if you pick the right choice you’ll still see the flowers.  A main theme I suppose would be to get the bad end Enju emulates Chojiro.  Try to be cool and calm.  It’s not real, but its how Enju sees Chojiro.  Think of what Chojiro would do, rather than what Enju truly feels.  That’s just a loose thread though.  The path to the bad end comes mainly from how the plot of the route happens, which is Enju asking if living is really worth...all this?

What Happens

So uh, that ruler Enju was accused of murdering?  Yeah he never died.  The double was killed.  In this route at least, he set it up so that the Five Elders would play a game to see who would become the guardian.  Each of Enju’s friends, tricked into hunting down Enju at risk of losing their entire village, represented one of the five lords.  But then, in the ruler’s viewpoint, Enju managed to kill four of her friends (actually they mostly killed each other...it was actually three of them who died) and was so impressed...that he decided to bring her and Chojiro to the castle to set up a death match.  Enju’s blood is boiling.  Chojiro’s blood is boiling.  My blood is boiling.  

So what are we gonna do?  Go down in style.  Enju decides that if they both can’t live in peace, then they shouldn’t have to live while the other dies either.  She convinces Chojiro, who’s revealed to be as soft as Chojiro always told her she was, to strike her as she strikes him.  They die in each other’s arms with smiles on their faces.

Review

While the choices don’t really connect outside of whether they’re good for Enju or not, the Bad End fits like a glass slipper on this horrific tragedy.  It’s poignant that its Enju who takes the lead in how they go out, when its always been Chojiro who had to be in charge.  At the end it was like Chojiro was holding Enju’s sleeve.  Sad and beautiful...and closed off from the opportunity to escape that was so close.

Kuroyuki - Kuroyuki is a Tragedy with a Neat Scarf and Losing Enju Did Not Help

Kuroyuki was raised alongside Enju and is, FOR ONCE, around the same age as Enju.  At age 8 he was sent out on a mission and only returns now to tag along with Enju and her friends during their mission.  He’s aloof and playful, but its pretty clear he gots some secrets, and has some feelings for Enju from the beginning.  Once you get into Kuroyuki’s route he doesn’t hide that fact, up and saying that he loves Enju early on in his route.  He can act very forward (forward enough to make me act like a PTA mom and evoke the three-feet-apart rule), but when he realizes Enju’s upset he’ll quickly apologize and make pouty faces.  Despite the fact that he can be a cold-blooded killer (like all the boys except Goemon can be) and also be the most calculating, he can also be a sweetie, and it feels like he and Enju are on a more even playing field than the other boys.  Kuroyuki and Enju can be pretty childish toward each other, and it can get pretty cute.  That won’t stop the plotwist, and this bad end, coming fast to snap your heart in two.

How to Get the Bad End

Okay also Kuroyuki’s a yandere.  Probably should have said that sooner.  Anytime you’re in a yandere route the choices that lead you to the good end are basically to be sensible, because your yandere pal sure won’t.  Its the same here, though its good to show some care.  So get to the bad end...don’t be sensible.  Be reckless.  He’s says they’d live together and die together.  That’s not worrying at all!  What if I want to be with the yandere who gaslit me, mom!?  Ever thought about that!?

What Happens

So in this route, the ruler was killed for realzies this time...by Kuroyuki.  He was probably killed by Kuroyuki in every route except in Chojiro’s and Gekkamaru’s, because when he kills the ruler there’s no blood or open gash, which is a mark of his type of power.  There was a deal between the Kaga Clan (who Kuroyuki was sent to train in 8 years ago) and the Koga Clan to kill the ruler, bringing the country back into war.  There’s no use for shinobi in times of peace.  What Kuroyuki wasn’t planning was for Enju to be accused of the murder.  So uh...he basically sets it up so that he’d be the only one to save her from prison and travel with her.  He lied about her friends possibly coming after her, which even I was set to believe because I was in a couple of routes where they did come after her, which was clever.  He was spot on about Enju’s father disowning her though, even if he didn’t know it when he told her, which goes to show how much of an ass her dad is.

I need to set this all up to say after all this is revealed Kuroyuki decides that if he can’t be with her, he’ll at least make a better world for her, first by killing her ass of a dad (which, like, same.)  Coincidentally Enju, determined to find out who ordered Kuroyuki to kill the ruler to save Kuroyuki, decides to confront her dad on the matter as well.  So they both meet again while facing off her dad.  Enju wants to live and die with Kuroyuki, and in her reckless rush to protect Kuroyuki her dad stabs her.  Kuroyuki kills her dad (good) then carries Enju to a clear field.  He gives Enju the only thing he can give her at that point - a happy dream that everything turned out alright, and that he and all her friends are together and happy.  Enju dies peacefully in his arms.  He promises to join her soon.

Review

I feel like I’m going to say this every time we meet a yandere, but while I like seeing yanderes as obstacles, I don’t believe in good endings with yanderes, at least romantically.  Like if a boy can only see happiness by keeping one girl by his side with rope and a red eye that freezes your shadow so you can’t move, maybe he should, at the very least, try to connect with people other than her?  Like, maaaaaaybe take a break from each other, clear your mind?  No?  Enju wants to be with you forever now too?  Tch.  

That being said, I’m glad this was the bad end for this route, and not a yandere ending where Kuroyuki kills Enju or Enju gets trapped in an illusion so that she couldn’t escape or something.  Much as I like “WTF” bad endings this bad ending struck a chord in how...sad it is.  Hands down, this one made me cry for Enju and Kuroyuki.  Much as Kuroyuki’s got issues, he gave Enju a way to pass peacefully.  It hurt me when she closed her eyes, and it hurt me when Kuroyuki cried.

Gekkamaru - The Overprotective Childhood Friend to End All Overprotective Childhood Friends

Gekkamaru is Enju’s childhood friends and bodyguard, and is overprotective to a...concerning degree.  No matter which route you’re in he’ll come to Enju’s aid, ranging from “well that’s sweet” to “oh gawd Gekka pls calm tf down.”  So you can imagine how he acts in his own route.  Despite the over-protectiveness (though I suppose when you become a wanted criminal over-protectiveness is a welcome trait) Gakkamaru is probably the Best Boy of the whole game.  He’s earnest and a real sweetheart.  Its too bad that this route is about as tragic as Chojiro’s, except the tragedy happens gradually, over and over again, not to mention his bad end...

How to Get The Bad End 

So that whole servant-and-master thing?  Yeah it’s fine.  Gekkamaru wants to act as a servant towards Enju?  Eh, don’t worry about it.  Pick options that don’t rock the boat on their relationship.  Don’t pay attention to Gekkamaru’s growing feelings, it’s fine.  It’s fine!  Not like he’ll die or anything.  

What Happens

So he dies.  Turns out Gekkamaru’s been hypnotized not once, but twice!  Enju’s mother hypnotized him into protecting Enju at all costs, and his mother hypnotized him into want to kill Enju, due to her father killing his parents before she was born.  Enju was tricked into releasing Gekka from her mother’s spell, leaving him with the curse forcing him to attempt to Enju.  Before he could do the deed, Enju tell him she loves him.  Rather than her love breaking the curse, Gekka’s role as her servant and bodyguard wins over, and he stabs himself fatally.  Enju follows after him.

Review

This ending isn’t far off from what actually happens in the good ending, but it mattered how Gekkamaru broke the curse.  What killed him was his duty trumping both the curse AND his love.  It’s what Enju feared - that his devotion was only due to the spell, and that it would kill him.  It’s poetic, but given the roller coaster of tragedy that’s happened throughout the route it feels like just another addition to it.

Conclusion

If I were to rank these bad endings from least interesting to most interesting, I’d say Hanzo - Gekkamaru - Chojiro - Kuroyuki - Goemon.  Obviously if you’re looking at good ending ranking or best boy the ranking would be different, but that’s not what we’re here for!  This is BadEndVille babey!  Chojiro, Kuroyuki and Goemon are a bit of a toss-up, since all three of those bad endings match the character and evoke a unique sort of pain.  Hanzo and Gekkamaru’s endings are also sad, but I don’t think they’re as strong a finish as the others.  Chojiro, Kuroyuki and Goemon’s bad endings feel like a real conclusion to a tragedy, while Hanzo and Gekkamaru’s bad endings feel like a “whoopsie you killed yer boy from the top!”

Still, all the bad endings are fitting for how they occur: Enju and Her Love learned the wrong lessons.  Enju constantly has to face being hunted down by shinobi stronger than her, being abandoned by the village who treasured her and the father who never acknowledged her, and sometimes she has to face her own childhood friends.  But on the way she’s often with someone who loves her, who’s willing to carry her through.  What she needs isn’t just strength and willpower, its the desire to live.  Live even when it feels like it’d be easier for everyone if you were gone, because your life is not for others to use up and wilt.  

And in the bad end, Enju fails to learn that lesson.  She dies because she can’t see happiness in living, not without the person who loved her by her side, and doesn’t realize that there is a way out, that they can both be saved.  With Kuroyuki, they both agreed that they will live together and they will die together, and in every bad end Enju decided that dying together was the better option.

It’s the same for the boys: Goemon fails to keep his beliefs after Enju dies, Hanzo fails to save Enju because he couldn’t change his beliefs as a shinobi, Chojiro fails because he’s so certain that everything he loves with eventually wilt, Kuroyuki fails because he realizes the consequences of what he’s done too little too late, and Gekkamaru fails because he couldn’t truly see himself as anything other than a loyal servant, ready to die even if that dooms the one he serves to misery.  They all became Romeos and Juliets, too short-sighted to see the light beyond the horizon.

All this to say that if you have the time after completing the good endings for all the boys, grab some ice cream or any other sweet treat that suits you and go through these bad endings.  Let those sad feels wash over you for a bit.  Then get to those bonus stories in the extras because I THOUGHT I WAS DONE-