#instead i just get physical side effects from whatever is plaguing my mind at the time

[lycorid]

In exchange for an immune system of steel [nondenominational deity] gave me mental illness.

I will never catch a cold but I will catch a bullet.

[buckyownsmylife]

How I Want You - Logan Delos x Reader Fluff

The one where Logan confesses that he loves you.

Warnings: angst, Logan’s crappy father, sexual themes, selfdoubt and selfhatred.

A/N: No, I couldn’t help myself. I’m obsessed with Taylor Swift and it shows.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

It was way too fucking late for anyone to be up, and still, much too early for Logan to have gone to bed. Which was why the second my phone rang, I forsake my comfy blankets and grabbed my keys, knowing exactly who it was - the only person who would call me at such a time and the only number whose call would get through during my sleeping hours.

“Where are you?” Was all I asked, although I already knew that the answer wouldn’t be satisfactory to my plan of going back to sleep as soon as possible. “You know what? Just stay where you are. I’m coming to get you. This is why I download that find my friends app in the first place.”

“I’m home,” he interjected, his tone sounding very firm, and very tired, and very not drunk for the time of day. It caught me by surprise. “I’ll be waiting.”And then he was gone. Hung up in a show of just how quickly he needed me to get to him.

It made my skin crawl and heartbeat pick up, that intuition that only ever acted when it came to him telling me something very bad had happened, or at the very least, that he was as far away from okay as he could get. And if he was home, then it truly was the worst case scenario. 

I got there as fast as I could without breaking any laws, and I barely allowed myself the time to kill off the engine before I was running out of the vehicle and into my best friend’s arms. Logan welcomed with a silent desperation that came in the form of reaching for me as a child would for any sort of parental guidance, and the anxiety that had been coursing through my veins while I couldn’t see his state little by little began to be replaced by anger. Pure, unadulterated, blinding anger.

“Get in the car, Lo,” I called him by the childhood nickname he pretended to hate, knowing it would help in my task to calm him down. “I’ll be right back.” He wanted to stop me the second that he realized what my intention was. I knew it because he seized my wrist and held it tightly, stopping me from moving any further away from him. But the second that he saw my eyes, when I turned around to stare at him and silently order him to let go, he did just so, knowing better than anyone else that when I got into this mindset, there was no one who could possibly get me out of it.

“Okay.” He nodded, and I knew he was watching me as I stepped into the huge mansion Logan did not call home. It only made me even more sure of what I intended to do. With quick strides, I crossed the main floor in the direction of his father’s office, and I didn’t even knock before I slammed it open, fire burning inside of me.

“What the fuck did you say to him?” I yelled as soon as James’ eyes met mine after my loud entrance startled him from whatever work he was trying to do at such a late hour - work he had always prioritized over his son.

“What?” He asked, clearly not expecting my sudden outburst, and probably not immediately relating my loss of reason to his only son. It only made me grow angrier, the fact that just because he didn’t worry about Logan, he couldn’t imagine anyone else caring for him either.

“What the fuck did you tell Logan that made him so upset? Only you can make him feel bad about himself, so I know it’s your fault. Tell me.” When realization finally seemed to hit him, no ounce of regret or shame painted James’ features, but that didn’t surprise me. Even if he had never been anything other than sweet to me, being Logan’s best friend meant I knew who he really was, and that implied that I knew every single one of his flaws as a father. He just didn’t know that I did, until then.

“You’re a smart girl, Y/N. You really shouldn’t waste your time on a failure like him.” The harsh reality of what he had said hurt me so deeply that it immediately drained me of all anger, leaving only a sickly feeling of disgust behind.

“Logan deserves every single second of my attention, and he deserves yours too. I’m sorry you can’t see it, but the only one who’s missing out is you.” Cold, bitter tears of pity for the sweet man I knew flowed down my cheeks, but I was quick to wipe them away. Logan didn’t need to see them.

“How was it in there?” He asked as soon as I was inside of the car again, his lips curled in a small smile that was half self-conscious, half knowing of what his father was capable of saying when it came to him, but I couldn’t yet stomach what I’d heard, so I just clutched his hand tightly with mine.

“Doesn’t matter. How about a sleepover?”

Logan’s P.O.V.

The drive to her place was silent, but she kept reaching for my hand every time she could, like she needed the physical reminder that I was there with her, instead of back at my house. Like she knew that I needed to be reminded of that too.

What would I do without her? Ever since I could remember, it was us against the world. Or more precisely, us against my father, and as a child, he was pretty much the only boundaries to the world that I knew. But even after I grew and started to see past my father’s empire, when I started to make real, lousy mistakes, instead of the childhood errors that would get me grounded, she still stuck up for me. She was always there, whenever I needed her.

My eyes trailed up her body, taking notice of the way her sleepwear still managed to make her curves enticing. She always looked beautiful in my eyes. No matter how many women I slept with, they could never come close to the beauty that I saw in my best friend and only in her.

“What do you see in me?” I blurted out, suddenly overtaken by the realization of just how inferior to her I was. It made my chest feel tighter, and breathing became a bit harder. The tears that would never come for my father suddenly stung my eyes, and I had to rub the palms of my hands against them to stop myself from crying.

“I’m sorry?” It seemed like she wasn’t expecting the sudden interruption to the silence that had fallen between us, but the desperation that had forced me to ask the question that plagued me had been dulled by my fear of her answer. I couldn’t bear the thought of knowing she thought less of me. I couldn’t bear the thought of being less in her eyes than she was in mine.

“Logan, what do you see in yourself?” She asked, once more glancing at me to make sure I was fine, which I was certain I would be able to pretend like I was. But of course, I could never fool her. So when she squeezed my hand to get me to talk, I found myself answering honestly, “Nothing. I-I’m nothing, Y/N. I’m just a waste of space and air and energy, your energy, and I have absolutely no idea why you put up with me.”

We had arrived at her apartment complex, I realized, but only because suddenly there were arms thrown over me, and a familiar neck for me to nuzzle with a familiar perfume that seemed to be the only thing able to relax my very soul.

“Well, that’s the exact opposite of what I see in you, Logan Delos. I see so much, I see everything. I see the whole wide world in you. You’ve always meant that for me. And to see you doubt that… There’s not a day in my life where I don’t hate your father for making you think so little of yourself.” That had me laughing against her skin, but it was a wet sound, unfortunately. Still, she didn’t seem to mind, allowing me to cling tightly to her as she drew soft patterns on my back. “You can’t say bad things about yourself, ever. That’s an order.”

After that last comment made me pull away from her to freely laugh, she looked patiently at me with the most loving smile on her face. “Do you have any idea what you mean to me?” I asked, caressing the side of her face and grinning with pride when she leaned against my touch.

“Almost as much as you mean to me, I hope.” I swear, only she could have me laughing after feeling so down a few minutes before. 

“Way more than that.”

“I doubt it.”

For a while, it was a staring contest between the two of us in her tiny car. I wanted to lean in and kiss her. God, I wanted to find out if her lips were as soft as they looked like But the second my hand grazed her cheek, she seemed to snap out of whatever reverie we had fallen on, quickly putting some space between us to unbuckle her belt.

“Let’s go,” she called out, reaching out for my hand as we walked towards her apartment. The second we were in the familiar setting of her living room, I felt the last bit of weight that had settled over my chest suddenly vaporize and disappear.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” I acknowledged as I took off my coat. “I owe you.”

“You owe me nothing,” she tried to wave it off, but I couldn’t let her do that. No, I needed her to understand that this was important to me, and I started by pulling her close so I could cradle her face between my hands and force her to see the seriousness in my so often joking eyes.

“I owe you a lot.” That was all I managed to say, as my throat closed at the quickening of my heartbeat. The moment felt heavy with something we couldn’t find it in ourselves to explore, and so we just stood there in silence, eyes cautiously exploring each other’s features until one of us decided to break the tension with a joke.

This time, it was her.

“I’m glad I downloaded that app on my phone and activated your location on yours. I seriously considered buying you a nice collar, with a tracker or something, so I could always know where you were when you called me. Especially when drunk.” I didn’t expect her words to have such an effect on me, but it was instantaneous. I felt my cock harden on my pants, and I knew that she could feel it too as I hid my blushing face in the crook of her neck.

“Are you trying to turn me on or are you really that oblivious?” I tried to pass it off as a joke, hoping to calm down despite keeping her touch close to me, but when her fingers buried themselves in my hair, I knew she’d only keep me balancing on this tightrope we’d been dancing on for way too long.

“I had no idea you were into that kind of stuff. Does the idea of wearing a collar entice you that much, Lo?” She asked, and although I knew she also wanted to pass it off as a joke, her voice sounded different, raspier. Filled with desire, I realized with a jolt, finally detaching myself from her to look her in the eye again. 

This was it. This was my chance to say something that would irrevocably change the nature of our relationship forever, but hopefully, it’d become all I’d ever wanted.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

“If it’s a collar that shows I belong to you, definitely.” I inhaled sharply at the words that fell oh-so-easily from my best friend’s lips. I knew him enough - I knew him way too much - to doubt the veracity of them, but that didn’t stop me from being overwhelmed at the realization that Logan wanted to be mine just as much as I wanted to be his.

“C’mon, stop teasing me,” I pleaded, trying to put some space between us, but failing to do so. Logan kept me close to him, gaze heavy on my body and when I still refused to meet his eyes, he held my jaw and forced me to do so.

“No, you c’mon. You know this isn’t me teasing you like when we were kids. I really, really want you. And not only like a best friend.” I didn’t even notice I was biting my lip until he pried it away with his thumb, staring longingly at it. “I’m gonna kiss you now.”

Before becoming a kiss, it was just him sucking that same bottom lip into his mouth, making me gasp and hold onto his shoulders for support. But then, he fused our mouths together, licking his way inside my mouth until I couldn’t breathe anymore.

When my eyes fluttered open to find his, I could barely see his pupils anymore. “Well, I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep after that,” I joked, trying to ease some of the tension in the room, but failing miserably. There was too much desire between us to disappear just like that. We’d need to find a way to release it if we were to ever move past this.

“I’d be offended if you were.” It felt nice to laugh with him after this kiss, this revelation of sentiments. It felt like, regardless of what we would become after tonight, I wouldn’t lose the most important person in my life, my best friend. The only one who could make me laugh like this, even after a breathtaking kiss, apparently.

“Wanna do something else, instead?”

[yandere-daydreams]

A Yandere!Lucifer/Reader commission for the very lovely, very creative @pyrokittyowo​, with just a couple hints of Yandere!Diavolo. I really do love writing for him, if only because he’s got all the time and resources in the world to make everyone’s life a living *hell*, and nothing better to do than put his heart into it. What else could you ask for in a man?

Word Count: 3.1k

TW: (Minor) Physical Violence, Manipulation, Abusive Relationships, and Dehumanization.

Diavolo couldn’t say he didn’t enjoy feeling superior.

It was an odd sensation. He was a demon, for all intents and purposes, but it was hard to feel like one, regardless of how often he tried to do so. It was the disorientation that came from being the strongest of your kind but still living so far below the next step, more powerful than those that surrounded you but unable to reach another level, one where he’d certainly be eclipsed by monsters who didn’t carry the same regard demons did for other living, breathing creatures. Diavolo didn’t think of himself as above the average creature, but the idea would arise in his subconscious from time to time, nagging and irritating and refusing to drown until it was acknowledged, even if dismissal always followed his admission. He was strong, and he was powerful and he was capable, but he never let it affect his ego, not when doing so would only push him further away from his subjects, as it had with his father and every ruler before him. Still, he knew the limits of his control, and he was keenly aware of all the many beasts and brutes went about their never-ending lives within those limits.

With this in mind, Diavolo’s annoyance upon seeing one of his most obedient pets start to walk along the edge of that boundary was understandable.

Diavolo had always prided himself on not having to keep Lucifer on a tight leash. The man was loyal to a fault, the reason behind his dedication long-since having become more of an excuse than a binding contract. Lucifer didn’t have to be given orders, anymore, there wasn’t a need for threats of discipline or the poorly veiled warnings that’d dominated the early stages of their relationship, not when he seemed to think of paperwork and politics as a hobby to be enjoyed rather than a responsibility to be dreaded. He was useful, hell, he was one of the few people Diavolo might call an equal, but this wasn’t the time to get sentimental. Not when Lucifer’s attention seemed to wander more and more with each passing day.

Even now, he seemed distracted, his eyes only ever occasionally meeting Diavolo’s. Instead, they darted around the ballroom anxiously, first to the flute of champagne in his hand, then to the tiled floor then a nearby staircase then anything, as long as he didn’t have to linger on it for more than a moment. It wasn’t uncommon for people to be uncomfortable during Diavolo’s parties, his guests and all their many fangs and talons caused more than enough unease for the average visitor, but it was unheard of for Lucifer to fall into a similar discontent. His feathers were beginning to ruffle unconsciously, his secondary wings already curling towards his chest, and his posture was no better, too rigid to mean anything good. If it’d been anyone else, Diavolo might’ve shrugged it off and suffered through a one-sided conversation, but it was Lucifer, his confidante, his willing servant, his friend. If something was bothering him, Diavolo was sure he wanted to know.

So, he glanced in the general direction of Lucifer’s temporary focus, clicked his tongue, and frowned knowingly. “You’d tell me if Mammon got his hands on the key to my vault again, wouldn’t you?” He asked, flatly, aiming to keep his tone as serious as possible. “I’d hate to have to find another of my treasures ‘relocated’ to the House of Lamentation, especially after the fuss it caused.”

Lucifer jumped to alertness, shoulders squaring defensively and his gaze sharpening to a glare as he stuttered out something incomprehensible, stopping to compose himself before giving a coherent response. “We had a talk about that, last time,” Lucifer assured, his fingers flexing around his glass’ neck. “He won’t try anything, this time, I’ve made sure of it. As long as he values having the same number of limbs he had this morning, I mean.”

“And I’m sure your methods were effective, as always.” Diavolo gave Lucifer a minute to flush and fluster, but he pulled his companion out of his stupor with a hearty laugh, Diavolo nudging him gently with his elbow as Lucifer took to sulking. “But something is bothering you,” He confirmed, only pausing for a brief moment to allow Lucifer the courtesy of a nod. “Might as well tell me, Luci’. You know I’m not going to let it go until you do.”

Lucifer let out a long, labored sigh, but didn’t struggle before giving in. Silently, his concentration shifted, turning towards the ballroom’s center, where assorted couples were dancing and talking and doing whatever couples chose to do when music and drinks were in abundance. It took him a second or two to settle, his eyes eventually landing on you, already in the arms of one of Lucifer’s brothers, completely unaware of the agony you were causing him.

Diavolo couldn’t say he saw Lucifer’s reasoning. If he was a pet, you were a bug, something insignificant and defenseless in the grand scheme of things. With all the trouble you got yourself into, you should’ve been caught under someone’s heel and crushed months ago, but Diavolo was never one to refuse entertainment. And yet, if he was to trust the fury suddenly smeared across Lucifer’s expression, he would’ve thought you were the most unignorable pest across the three realms. “The exchange student?” He asked, absentmindedly. “You’re not going to tell me you let a human drive you into such a state, are you?”

“It’s an… unfortunate affliction.” As Lucifer’s eyes followed you, he only seemed to grow more agitated. He twitched when you smiled, flinched when you laughed, and when you pulled away from your partner, curtsying with an unsteady grace, Lucifer’s hold on his glass grew tighter, tighter, tighter, the flute eventually cracking and splintering, shards digging into Lucifer’s gloved hand and the translucent fluid beginning to leak out. If he noticed, though, he didn’t intend to show it, only gritting his teeth and giving an explanation. “It’s… It’s annoying, when she insists on lowering herself to their standards. I love my brothers, I do, but…” He trailed off, shaking his head and scoffing, as if he was still trying to dismiss whatever thoughts were plaguing his mind. “Am I supposed to watch this? It’s disgusting, it’s infuriating, it makes me want to do something unpleasant, My Lord.”

Although Diavolo doubted the sincerity of Lucifer’s declaration, he recognized that tone, that foolish, irrational anger. The awareness of power and the willingness to put it on display, the desire to use it on something smaller and weaker than himself. Diavolo felt his grin broaden, a solution to more than one of his problems arising. He could only chuckle, resting his hand on Lucifer’s shoulder as his open wounds began to drip and bleed.

“I know exactly how you feel, my friend.”

~

“He’s been acting strange, lately. I was just wondering if you’d noticed.”

You were no more impressive in person. When Diavolo approached you, your reactions had been so pitifully predictable, your demeanor vulnerable and unsuspecting, prey in every sense of the word. You’d been assigned to clean your homeroom after hours, a fortunate coincidence on Diavolo’s part, and he’d sent Lucifer off on some trivial, time-consuming task he wouldn’t be done with any time soon. When he finally addressed his concerns, you were all wide-eyes and parted lips, curling around the broom in your hands whenever he mentioned your companion’s name. But, if you considered Diavolo a threat, you were smart enough not to say it. A wise decision, really. He wanted this to go as smoothly as you did.

“No stranger than usual,” You said, tossing the wooden handle from hand to hand. You didn’t try to hide your anxiety. “I’m probably not the best person to ask. He’s never been normal, to me.”

Diavolo knew what you were talking about. He’d bandaged Lucifer’s hand the night before while being thoroughly educated on just how not normal the relationship between you and Lucifer happened to be. He simply pursed his lips, letting his gaze bore into you as he replied. “What do you mean? You’d tell me if something was wrong, wouldn’t you, (Y/n)?”

You let out a heavy sigh, your shoulders dropping in some personal show of complacency. “I know how close you two are, but he scares me,” You admitted, your reluctance only momentary. “He loses control of himself, sometimes, I get it, but it’s not just when he’s in a rage. Ever since we made our pact, he’s been touching me more often, and saying these... these things. I can’t really explain it, but whenever he looks at me-” You stopped without warning, cutting yourself off. As if the only words you were capable of using were those you’d already convinced yourself not to speak aloud. “He’s controlling. I don’t know how else to describe it. It’s like he gets off on backing me into a corner and making me beg to be left alone.”

You looked towards him when you finished, searching for any traces of sympathy you could get, and Diavolo did his best to indulge you. He was still trying to figure out how he felt about your… dynamic, with Lucifer. He understood the temptation. Even now, alone and standing in front of a man you didn’t trust, you made no effort to protect yourself, exposed to any demonic being that wandered in and helpless, despite how adamantly you insisted you weren’t. With someone as stifling as Lucifer, such negligence must’ve been intolerable. But, he wasn’t Lucifer, and for now, you were more of a distraction than a pastime. Something that needed to be dealt with promptly and played with later on.

“I can take care of that. He goes through a rebellious phase, every now and then, but it’s nothing he can’t be snapped out of.” He smiled, delicately, putting on a grin not unlike the one he’d used with your counterpart.

“But, it’ll be much easier for both of us if you lend me a hand.”

~

Diavolo was the only one speaking.

The conversation was tense, at first, but existent. In the cramped walls of his office, both you and Lucifer had done your best to give suitable (albeit bland) responses whenever they were called for, more Lucifer than yourself. Your voice had been smothered by Lucifer’s gaze, intense and burning into you until you were rendered quiet, and his own words becoming less and less as more of his focus was dedicated to drumming his fingers against the arm of his chair and biting at his bottom lip and growing more impatient. You’d lied to him, to get here, promised that you were going back to the House of Lamentation and insisted that you’d never think of trying to run around behind his back, which was, evidently, untrue. You weren’t sure which he found more maddening, the violation of his control or your willingness to break out of it. You weren’t sure which he’d you punish you for more violently.

It didn’t matter, honestly.

You’d have scars for both, tomorrow morning.

So consumed by your own demise, you didn’t notice when Diavolo’s voice went quiet, too, leaving the room in a tense, frigid silence, as purposeful as it was terrible. It couldn’t have lasted more than a few seconds, but it might as well’ve been years with the anxiety suddenly racking over your nerves. Luckily, Diavolo didn’t let it go on for very long, breaking the stillness with a crisp, defined knock to his desk, a familiar grin stretching across his lips. You rose, right on cue, suddenly more uncomfortable in your own skin than you’d ever been before. It didn’t feel any better to take your place on his side, separated from Lucifer by a mahogany desk and a small mountain of paperwork, but you were glad to be standing. It was part of a plan, and plans meant security. They meant you knew what was going to happen next.

You couldn’t bring yourself to be surprised when that security was ripped away, as fast and as carelessly as any time before.

Diavolo was supposed to confront Lucifer about his treatment of a valued exchange student. He was supposed to be professional, and strict, and move you into an empty dorm in Purgatory Hall, just to show that he could distance you from Lucifer, if he deemed it necessary. Lucifer was supposed to pout and argue and agree, and that was supposed to be it, that’s all that was supposed to happen. Still, your shock was muted as a strong arm looped around your waist, pulling you effortlessly into Diavolo’s lap, holding you there when the reflex to push yourself away and struggle took over. You threw your elbow into his chest, taking hold of his bicep and attempting to drag yourself away, but your efforts were made in vain, Diavolo only laughing and bringing his free hand up, letting it come to rest on your shoulder. A nail, a talon, really, sharp and pointed and blood-thirsty, tapped twice against your jugular, and you froze, not wanting to find out how easy it would be for him to drive them through your flesh.

Lucifer’s reaction was instantaneous. His mouth opened, something hushed and vile slipping out, and he clambered out of his chair with a shameless desperation, but haulted as soon as he was on his feet. A mix of instinct and common sense fueled him, his anger, his self-restraint. The overwhelming desire to stop someone else from putting their hands on something he so obviously considered his, but the prevailing knowledge that trying to take you back by force would only lead to hands too broken to do so. You couldn’t imagine how many times he’d been through this, with Diavolo. He certainly seemed experienced, when it came to holding himself back.

“Why?” He spat, the question blunt, but dripping with something venomous. He took a step forward, slowly, moving to edge around the obscuring desk. Diavolo didn’t stop him, his grin only turning towards a smirk as he watched Lucifer make his cautious approach. “I’m not going to let your hurt--”

“I won’t have to hurt her.” Your breath hitched in your lungs as the hand on your shoulder slipped downwards, trailing over the shape of your collarbone before trailing its way to your neck, rubbing an apologetic circle into the edge of your jaw before taking your throat in a vice-grip, not choking but ready to. You were suddenly made aware of just how small you were, compared to both men, Diavolo’s palm pressing against the length of your throat and his fingers struggling to fit without forcing your head back. You didn’t doubt a thoughtless movement or jerk too sudden would be enough to crush anything vital. “I don’t want to hurt her, but you’re not giving me a choice.” He paused, pouting, tilting his head to the side and drawing attention to just how badly you’d started to shake. “It’d be a shame if I had to do something drastic to some poor human because of your actions.”

Lucifer locked his jaw into place, his fists clenching at his sides. “I haven’t taken action, yet. If I’ve done something to offend you, I apologize, but my feelings for (Y/n) aren’t…” He bit his own tongue, running a hand through his hair, searching for a distraction that refused to make itself apparent. “She doesn’t have anything to do with us. You understand that, don’t you? (Y/n) ��doesn’t have anything to do with any of this.”

“I’d like to believe you.” He let out a ragged exhale, as if the thought had been weighing on him. He wasn’t the one with claws pressed against his skin, though, a thin, red line slowly forming along the side of your neck as Diavolo dragged his thumb lazily over your skin, leaving a muted, stinging pain in its wake. “I worry about you, sometimes, Lucifer. You’re so helpful, and I’d hate to lose you to some uncontrolled obsession. But, I fear you’d come to resent me if I deprived you of your vices completely.” Another squeeze, this one testing, teasing. As if you and him were in on a joke, some parody of a bastardized friendly scheme. “That’s why (Y/n) is going to fall under my protection, from now on. When I’m confident in your loyalty, you can carry on with your little courting ritual. I’ll even give you two a room in my estate, somewhere more private. That’s what you want, isn’t it? Privacy?”

Lucifer only glowered. “And if I don’t agree?”

At this, Diavolo chuckled. He chuckled, then he laughed, then he took you by the throat, lifting you off his lap and letting you sputter and cough and suffocate as he held you in place, ignoring your attempts to loosen his grip. Lucifer moved to lunge forward, to tear you away and take solace in whatever survived, but Diavolo just shook his head, something in your neck cracking as he clenched down. “I don’t take kindly to defiance. You should know that better than anyone, and you should know how little I care for being challenged. Either you get down on your knees and bow, or-” He dropped you, abruptly, but your freedom was short-lived. As soon as you’d gotten a decent breath in, fingers were entangled in your hair, jerking you upward and forcing a meek, pathetic whimper through your lips. You couldn’t tell whether Lucifer was concerned for your wellbeing, or jealous that he hadn’t been the one to elicit such a pitiful sound. “Or, I break your favorite toy and no one gets to play. It’d be a shame to give something so disobedient an easy way out, but it’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make, if it means you step into line.”

He released you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look, to move, to do anything but catch your breath and hide, your face soon buried in his coat. You heard rustling, the thud of something solid hitting the wooden floor, but those noises were distant, drowned out by something dark and dominant, as overpowering as it was oppressing.

You wondered if you’d ever be able to hear something other than Diavolo’s laughter again.

[fivenightslaughter]

Wicked Serpentine (Part 6)

pairing: draco malfoy x femravenclaw!oc

summary: slowburn enemies to lovers fic, a TON of parts. <3

warnings: blood purism, bullying, swearing, descriptive physical danger, violence. Awful Draco 

word count: 3,192

taglist: @gloryekaterina @miso-tang​

I had decided to sit in the very front on the right side. With Malfoy tucked away in the left corner, I felt content with my choice being the polar opposite of his. Snape stood at the front, giving a very subtle and quick nod at me.

He strode forward and placed a book on my desk, swishing back to his original position with eerie ease. I was thankful his gesture went unnoticed and immediately my mood was uplifted.

I was here to learn everything I possibly could. I could already feel in my bones that despite Draco’s (thankfully now damp) presence in the room, this would come to be my favorite class.

Students filtered into the room and I heard booming bell chimes. I assumed that would mark the beginning of classes. I was thankful to have made it on time.

A boy slid into the seat next to me, a broad smile on his face. He was a bit lean and his brown hair lay around his head indiscriminately. Round-rimmed glasses circled his green eyes, which were slightly blurred through the thickness of the glass.

He eagerly turned to me, jutting a hand out for a shake.

“I’m Harry.”

His voice was warm and honeyed. He wasn’t overly pleasant to the point of it being sickly, but it was welcoming nonetheless. Taking note of his house colors, I’d guessed it was a trait likely shared among Gryffindors. Bravery.

I shook his hand, fighting hesitancy from my body. He was the first person who had spoken to me just for the hell of it since I’ve gotten here. Cho didn’t count much in my mind- she was a friend, of course, but we also had to share a room and that was very much a forced circumstance in my book.

“Eris.” I replied, facing the book Snape had placed on my table for me.

He seemed to wait a beat, as if he was expecting a different reaction. He turned to face a redheaded boy sitting behind us that looked rather bewildered.

“You know, he’s bloody Harry Potter!” He yelled in a rather hushed-whisper tone.

I turned in my chair like Harry had and faced him, my head cocked to the side as soon as I met eyes with him.

“Hey, you must be one of George’s brothers, right? A Weasley?” I spoke, my eyes raking over his mop of orange hair.

The two of them met eyes immediately, both shocked this time, and the redhead paused before letting out an incredulous laugh.

“Sweet hell Harry, she recognizes me instead of you? I must be moving up in the world!” He spoke endearingly as his hand traveled up into his hair. His face spilled into a crooked grin and Harry gave a short laugh.

I tried holding a straight face but couldn’t help myself as I quipped again, attempting to match their humor.

“Whoa, I saw you at King’s Cross when I met Fred and George. I wouldn’t call you famous just yet, Weasley. I don’t even know your first name.”

I saw Harry’s eyes widen and his mouth broke into a half smile.

“She got you there, Ron. You could be any damned redhead Weasley.”

His orange brows furrowed and he sucked his teeth, his grin beginning to teeter down.

“Lay off, mate. You’re just sore she won’t kiss you just ‘cus you’re the Harry Potter.” A brown haired girl elbowed him, pursing her lips.

There was his full name again. I’d be sure to ask someone later what the big deal about this kid was. Snapping us all out of conversation, a book banged loudly on our table and I whipped around to see a scowl evident on Snape’s face.

Not that it wasn’t the usual expression on his face, however, it hadn’t been directed at me in this way so far. I attempted to brush it off, going silent for the rest of the lesson. I still heard Harry and Ron exchange a couple jokes and words, but I’d decided it was ultimately not in my best interest to continue interacting.

Most of the rest of the lesson went on without a hitch and I noticed that whenever I’d hover my hand unsure of an ingredient, Snape would narrow his eyes at me. He wouldn’t look away until I’d palmed the correct one, and thus ensued an unspoken language between us.

Without it, I’m sure whatever I was concocting would have blown up in my face by now. Much to my enjoyment, there were a few times where Harry looked over and would exclaim positively about my progress.

I felt good. Great, actually. I wasn’t the best by far and I had a lot of room for improvement, but I hadn’t been an utter failure. I could swear Snape’s sourness had decreased just enough for the room to feel a tiny bit brighter.

As I furthered in my work, Harry and Ron started to become a bit of a distraction. They seemed very absorbed in themselves and their conversation as their volume slowly increased. The minutes ticked by and they were becoming less bearable.

I felt myself growing agitated but unable to express it. I couldn’t scare off two people I’d just met, my first two friends. If you could even call them that. I found myself rereading the same lines of instruction over and over, stress starting to become evident on my face.

I craned my neck to find Snape stood at the back of the classroom near the door as he surveyed other students. He wasn’t looking in my direction as my face pleaded for some kind of escape. My nails bit into my palms as the conversation next to me overrode my senses.

A sharp, hissing voice spoke from the back of the classroom, just to the right of my view of Snape. My eyes darted to the sound, accidentally meeting the speaker’s silvery ones as he spoke.

“Must you keep blathering with your boyfriend, Potter? Your voice carries worse than a mandrake. It’s all rather foul, honestly.” He faked a disgusted shiver and elbowed a boy next to him humorously.

His lips curled into a smirk when we broke eye contact and went back to whispering with the boy sitting with him. I scanned his partner at the table that he’d elbowed; he was rather attractive as well. He had smooth, dark skin and his hair was trimmed short and cleanly cut. He had reclined comfortably in the seat, his arms crossed behind his head as he tilted towards the wall.

Were all Slytherin-sorted boys plagued with an air of pretension? I turned back to face my instruction book, hearing Ron mutter under his breath behind me before likely doing the same.

“Malfoy, Zabini and that whole lot…” The rest was incoherent and I wondered what words he could be cursing at them. Harry nodded, pressing his lips in a tight line.

I wondered what kind of secret language they had and if it was anything like the one I shared with Severus. It didn’t matter to me now, though, as Snape strode to the front of the room. I was finally able to read and I stirred final ingredients into the cauldron on my table.

It bubbled and Snape raised his eyebrows questioningly as he stopped by our table. He placed a hand on the dusty wooden top, peering into both of our cauldrons.

“It’s decent…Ravenclaw. As for you, Potter, I suggest you learn to pay attention. Your… Inability to focus… Is hindering your classmates.”

Snickering erupted from the back corner, bouncing off of the walls.

Snape turned to fully face the entire class before he drawled,

“You all may thank Potter for arrangements… That will take effect next time we meet.” He spoke Harry’s name with a certain malice and it made me wince. The class gave a groan and I could see redness creep up Harry’s neck to his cheeks.

I felt guilty for thinking he deserved it considering I had literally just met him within the last hour or two. He was a bit intolerable, but perhaps that was good enough reason for why I’d been sorted where I was. Away from them.

I wasn’t exactly the brave or sociable type. I just wanted to learn and succeed here. I wanted to learn magic. If I couldn’t gain that from a friendship with these two boys, perhaps it wasn’t detrimental to my time.

I watched Harry check his watch and shove his book into his bag and I figured they’d be leaving soon. I wanted to talk to Snape first, though. I’d have to wait for everyone to leave and stay behind.

As suspected, the large bell towers on the grounds chimed within the minute and everyone eagerly left, rushing off to wherever they had to be next. I sat, not in any particular hurry as I pushed the book and parchment I’d taken a couple notes on into my bag.

Snape eyed me carefully, striding over to my table. He seemed to have something to say as well.

“Do not get involved with Potter. He is nothing but a vile trouble to this school.” He spoke sternly, every sentence with Harry’s last name was spoken with venom so far.

I gulped, nodding. “He seemed surprised when I didn’t recognize his name, who is he? Is he popular?”

Snape swept away deliberately, gathering items from a desk and purposefully setting it somewhere else. I wondered if it was genuine or busywork.

“You could say, yes… Popular.” It seemed bitter coming from his mouth and I decided to not press on any more Potter related matters.

“I wanted to say thank you. For the box.” I breathed, changing the subject and feeling a bit sentimental.

He gave no indication that he heard me, but the room was quiet enough for me to know he had. I took that as a signal he was done with conversation and I finally stood up, tucking my chair in and leaving the classroom without another word.

Much to my surprise, the hallway was not empty. In this lighting and proximity, the boy who stood outside the doorway looked as if he were of the same marble as the stairs in the entrance hall, still and pale.

“Took you long enough.” He spat.

Confusion etched itself onto my face and I was beginning to tire of twisting my features every time I didn’t understand something. His light grey eyes rolled at my expression, mouth looking as if he’d just eaten something sour.

“Charms.” He stated brusquely, his nose scrunching in disgust as he began walking off in a direction. He glanced behind him in a way that made it clear I was supposed to be following. My legs working faster than my brain, I hastened after his long strides.

Many thoughts attacked my brain. Had Snape told him to wait for me or something when I wasn’t paying attention? I couldn’t piece together why he’d be assisting me but against my better judgement, I decided not to ask.

Instead, I walked nearly by his side. It was a little unsettling how much he’d slowed and allowed me to do so. Sweat formed at my hairline and all I could hear were the taps of his shoes on stone.

“Thank you,” I started uneasily. I felt like I was gulping a brick.

Just as Snape had, he ignored me. Slytherin definitely made sense for him. It seemed like he fit so easily into a category and had his entire life planned out. The way he carried himself, it was obvious he never doubted a single step he took.

I envied it. In a way, I envied him. Likely growing up fully submerged in the most glamorous pieces of the wizarding world, rich parents, freedom to say and act however he pleased.

Even rudely, terribly, horribly. He could do whatever he wanted, couldn’t he?

His lips parted, exhaling lightly. He continued walking as he spoke, looking slightly agitated.

“Stop staring, you damned pest. I know I’m irresistible, but keep the drooling to a minimum.”

I scowled, narrowing my eyes at him. I didn’t react to his usage of pest, but it certainly made this adventure clear it wasn't of his own volition. At least he indirectly answered the nagging question in my mind.

“You’re too full of yourself. Definitely not an irresistible trait.” I snipped.

I could see his jaw set tight at my response. The defined bones in his face made him look picturesque. His hair reminded me of pearls, moon-white and fine, almost iridescent. I suppose he was rather attractive, but it was clouded by his nasty attitude.  

“Hasn’t stopped you from ogling something you’ll never deserve, you lowly creature.”

The air got much tenser. My hands clenched and unclenched at my sides and I stopped walking in stride with him. I stood still in the hall and he had halted only a few steps down, noticing I’d paused. He spun to face me, his eyebrows pulled together, likely attempting to dissect what was happening.

“What the hell are you doing?” He spoke sharply, now impatiently leaning on one foot.

Frustration was evident on my face. I hated how easily he could talk to me like that. With the tension snapping, I wondered if I was capable of replying calmly and moving on to Charms in silence. The answer was no, I was not capable.

“I’d rather wander aimlessly and miss a lesson than spend another minute with a foul git like you.” I enunciated, internally declaring a battle between my brain and feet. I wanted to turn off in the opposite direction and dart into the depths of the school alone, as long as it meant being away from him.

I dug into my bag and grabbed the stupid green box from earlier this morning, angrily tossing it at his chest. He didn’t react as it hit him, which had made my heart begin to race. This didn’t feel right. Why was he just staring at me?

He stepped closer to me, his face eerily calm. He was dauntingly slow and careful. It was enough to make me step backwards, a tiny stumble kicking me into the beginning of a run. I was seconds from darting.

He lunged at me like some kind of predator. My body was twisted halfway behind me, partway in a run. I was mid-turn when he caught me. He had gotten as close as he could to me before grabbing my wrist, as if I had been a wild animal. My heart felt like it had completely torn its way from my body.

I felt his icy fingers begin crush my hand, the searing cold of a metal ring biting into my skin.

He quickly shoved me towards the stone wall of the hallway. The hand he caught me with released me, snapping back to his side. He looked furious, genuinely. I noticed his wand in his free hand, angled towards me. I hadn’t known he could look any angrier than his resting face but being in this position, I was fucking terrified.

Absolutely fucking terrified.

Seconds before, he was an intolerable teenage boy with an insufferably outdated blood bias. A typical pureblooded school bully. But right now, he looked like an adult. No, not just an adult. He looked like the scariest man I’d ever laid eyes on - and he definitely had the means to hurt me.

It felt hard to breathe. My chest heaved as if I’d just run a mile. My shoulder blades pressed uncomfortably against the rock behind my body and I felt paralyzed with fear. All I could think about was the way the frigid stone nipped at the back of my neck. I felt myself sliding down the wall, ever so slightly as my own weight slugged me down.

His head was upturned, looking down at me. His hand gripped his wand so hard his knuckles were white. I could tell from his eyes that he was deep in angry thought.

I felt tears prick my eyes as I turned over what could be going through his mind. I laid my palms flat against the wall, my fingers twitching at the sudden brisk. 

Everything felt hot and cold and I couldn’t look at him anymore. I squeezed my eyes shut, my head turned in a flinch and I nearly ground my teeth together clenching my jaw.

What was he going to do to me? What were school rules about killing a girl no one knows? Was it something his father could find a way to pardon, regardless of the rules?

I had slid all the way down to the floor without realizing it and my arms guarded my chest. I was curled up into a ball on the floor against the bricks behind me. I felt and looked utterly pathetic and powerless.

I didn’t realize I was actually crying until I tasted salt in my mouth.

After what felt like an eternity of stillness as I waited to die, I opened my blurry eyes. I took in a sharp, quick breath of shock when I noticed he was bent down, his face parallel to mine and only an arms length away. I jolted backwards, smacking my head on the wall.

The pain seared and my breathing was still unsteady. His face was filled with curiosity and what looked like a twinge of guilt. I must have been imagining it, though, considering I wasn’t sure a reptile like him was capable of guilt.

He slowly outstretched a hand to me, straightening his legs back to a stand. I eyed his hand and his face wearily, back and forth, searching for some kind of falter. Some bubble of amusement. Something to tip me off to whether or not he’d drop me or laugh in my face for accepting his help.

There was nothing. The guilt and curiosity had evaporated, leaving a poker face.

My stomach lurched as I shakily put my hand in his, expecting him to make some rude comment about needing to wash away the dirtiness he was convinced coursed through my veins.

He didn’t.

Instead, he pulled me up, one hand around mine and the other on my elbow on the opposite arm. Once I was fully upright, he retracted his arms to his own body, dusting his hands off on his pants.

There it was. He had wordlessly done it. Attempted to wipe his hands clean of merely touching a muggleborn witch as if I'd been some kind of nasty task. He noticed my narrowed eyes at his action and rolled his.

“Your robes were dusty.” He muttered, surveying me up and down. It made me feel a bit sick noticing that he felt the need to give an explanation. 

He motioned to the hall ahead of us, swallowing and examining the corridor as if it were the most interesting thing in the world.

“At the end, turn left and take the stairs up. It’s Flitwick’s class- your head of house. I’ve got better things to do.”

He turned and disappeared back down the hallway we came from before I could utter a word. Unlike earlier, he’d walked without much noise at all. It was as if he had become a ghost.

[iwritefanficion]

Could you do some Sanders Sides hcs with them comforting reader when she's sad? I'm feeling empty and sad myself, and I need some comfort... Thank you if you can -&

Of course, my dear! I’m sorry you feel that way and I truly hope this makes you feel better! I’m not sure if you want romantic or platonic, so I’m just gonna do romantic. 

Warnings: Remus

~

Roman

-Whenever you’re feeling down, you know you can always turn to the brave Roman! He will face any beast for you, even if the beast is yourself. 

-His first instinct is to coddle you with so much affection you don’t know what to do with yourself! He’ll hold you close, arms caging you in so all you can do is focus on him. 

-He’ll pet your hair, combing his fingers through the strands. If you’re sitting, he’ll move you to his lap and cradle you in his arms. 

-You can be sure he will pepper your face with kisses. 

-He’ll ask what’s wrong. If you tell him, he’ll listen carefully, comforting you while you do. If you aren’t up for talking, he’ll try to keep you occupied. 

-Roman will sing to you. Whether it’s Disney songs or just some soft melodies he knows, he’ll sing softly in your ear, easing all your troubles. If it’s not singing, Roman will talk to you. He’ll tell you about his adventures, about different ideas for videos, anything. He just wants to take your mind off all of your worries. 

-All he wants is the best for you. He wants to make sure you’re safe, you’re happy and you’re comfortable. He hates to see you upset. You’re the most important person to him, and the last thing he wants is a frown on your face!

-He has a very hands-on approach, which may not always be effective. If you don’t like him, all you have to do is tell him, and he’ll back off. The same goes for if you want some alone time. He may not understand why but he’ll definitely obey your requests. 

-He’ll do whatever it takes. No task is too big or small. Not when your happiness hangs in the balance. 

Patton

-Patton is the heart, so he’s much better at reading your needs. He can tell you’re sad even when you’re doing your best to hide it. He may not be great at reading and dealing with his own more unpleasant feelings but he certainly knows how to read you. 

-The first thing he does is ask what’s wrong. Why are you sad? Did something happen? What would you like? 

-He knows that assuming what you want could only lead to more trouble and be counterproductive. So he wants you to be clear with him, even in tears. Do you need anything to drink? Do you want physical affection? Do you want a shoulder to cry on? An ear to listen? Some cookies? Alone time?

-He’s the best at doing whatever he can to make you feel better because his instincts are always spot on when it comes to emotions. 

-Desperately wants to know you’re okay. You are his first priority, and although he wants to curl up to you and tell you everything is okay, he’ll wait until you want it. 

-If you do give him permission, he will bring you the comfiest spot in his room, with warm blankets, hot chocolate and cookies, and just snuggle with you. Whether you only wish to cry, or maybe sit in silence, that’s fine. If you want to talk, he’ll listen carefully. 

-He knows, at this stage, to treat you delicately. Hold you close, press gentle kisses to your face, neck and shoulders. He’ll pet your hair, nuzzling his face into you, just to give you some peace. 

-Will try to cheer you up with cheesy puns. Even if it makes you crack a smile, he feels satisfied. Your happiness is his priority and everything else will be at a standstill. He also won’t let anyone else bother you while you’re in the state. 

-He might not like to deal with his own sadness but has no problems helping you with yours. 

Logan

-If you come to Logan when you’re down in the dumps he has two immediate thoughts:

-First: Ugh. Emotions. 

-Second: Why are you coming to him with help for emotions?

-However, as soon as he gets past those two general thoughts, he’s more willing to help you out, even if he had no idea what to do. Poor confused baby. 

-He’ll ask you a series of questions to try and get a better handle of your situation and what you would like him to do. Things like: do you want to be comforted? Would you like to talk about your problems? If you do, would you simply like him to listen or offer advice? How would you like to be comforted? Would you like physical affection?

-The list could go on. Once he gets a better sense of what’s going on, he’ll be happy to help in any way possible. You are the person he chose to give his “heart” to. Even if he’s not 100% comfortable with the situation, your happiness takes precedence. 

-If you want physical comfort, he’ll lay with you on the bed, letting you curl up with him however you want. If you don’t, he’ll let you lay on the bed while he sits on the edge. 

-His next objective is to distract you from the unpleasant thoughts that seem to plague you. If he can reach a book, he will open it and start reading to you. Just give you something to focus on, instead of letting your mind get overwhelmed with your own emotions. 

-If he can’t get to a book, he will simply tell you random bits of facts and tell you about some fascinating stuff he learned. It doesn’t really concern him whether you’re really listening or not, he’s just trying to use his voice as something for you to keep your thoughts straight. 

-The moment you want affection, he’ll give it to you. He’s usually not the most affectionate person in the world but that will change the moment he knows you’re not in a good place and you need to be comforted. 

-He’ll kiss your head, running his hands up and down your sides and back. The moment he feels your body stop shaking and the sobs stop coming out, he’ll let out a small sigh of relief and let a tiny smile cross his face. 

-He’ll do whatever you want so long as it makes you happier. 

Virgil

-He’s a mix of both Patton and Logan. If you come to him while you’re in distress or crying, his first reaction is to panic. Why are you crying?! What happened?! Did someone hurt you?! Are you upset with something he did?!

-He’s not sure what to do at first. Do you want to be comforted? Or will touching you make you more upset? If he asks you what’s wrong, will you be mad at him? Or do you want to talk about it? The last thing he wants is to stress you out more, and the possibility of that makes him itch with anxiety. 

-However, once he figures out exactly what you want, he’s really good at comforting you. If you want to be held, he’ll plop you on his lap and embrace you. He’ll tell you everything will be okay and press kisses to your head. 

-If you want him to, he’ll sing to you. He’s not big on it like Roman but if it’s for you, he’ll have no problem singing. Since he too loves Disney, he might sing those or just some other songs in a quiet voice or even hum to calm you down.

-The best out of the others in giving advice. 

-If you’re crying because someone made you cry, he will threaten to kill them. But, that’s for another time. His main focus is on you… for now. 

-He knows how it feels to be overwhelmed with unpleasant emotions, so he also knows how to handle them. He’ll make sure you’re comfortable and you feel safe, no matter what. And although he’s not super physical, he will hug you and cuddle you and let you use him as a teddy bear. 

-If you don’t want to talk, and if you’re feeling up to it, he’ll put on some music or even give you a pair of headphones to block out everything else. Sounds and the outside world can be overwhelming, he knows that all too well, and music is a perfect distraction. 

-He will try and make you laugh if you need cheering up. His dry, sarcastic humour will definitely crack you up if you’re in the right mood for it. And seeing you laugh will make pride swell in his chest. 

-Virgil is great at dealing with negative emotions because he has to deal with his own all the time. So, he knows all the tricks. 

Deceit

-When coming to Deceit when you’re upset, he’ll act calm and collected, but inside, he’s freaking out. What if he says something that makes you cry harder? What if he lies to you by mistake and hurts you? He’s not exactly well-known for being comforting. He usually causes panic. 

-But, he’ll sit you down, and if you allow it, place an arm over your shoulders, and try and talk to you. His first attempts are to calm you down, speaking softly and clearly to try and get you to stop crying. 

-If it doesn’t work, he’ll begin to silently panic. So, he’ll use his skill of being persuasive to his advantage. One way or another, he’ll get you to talk or even just listen to his voice and calm down. 

-He’s less physical in his approach, for your comfort or for his own. He prefers to use words to help people- more specifically, you. Though his shtick his being deceptive, he doesn’t have to lie to you, especially when he compliments you. 

-To make you smile, he will tell you everything that he loves about you. He’ll tell you how gorgeous you are, how he loves your voice, how wonderful your smile is, how your eyes mesmerize him. Not a single compliment that he tells you is a lie. It’s genuine. 

-If you do need physical affection, there will only be a little bit of hesitance. He’ll let you do as you please, he just might not start it. He’ll be a shoulder to cry on, a teddy bear to cuddle, a pillow to hug, anything and everything. It may be a little uncomfortable for him since he’s not used to it, but he will gladly do it if it makes you feel better. 

-He’s great at distracting you. He’ll tell you a bunch of random things, trying to draw your attention from what’s going on inside your head. Things like his day, ranting, the weather, anything. Whatever pops into his mind. 

-This snake may not be super talented in the comforting department but he cares enough about you to try. 

Remus

-Absolutely the worst person to help you when you’re upset. Not for a lack of trying, believe me, but he just… isn’t great at it. 

-If you’re not in the mood for it, his humour and antics can just make things worse. However, if you are the type of person who appreciates his humour, it can work. 

-But if you’re sad, you probably don’t want to hear about Remus getting fucked by a werewolf or taking two dicks at once or something.  Even if you find him amusing most of the time, these things generally don’t help. 

-If they don’t work, Remus is smart enough (shocking, I know) to see that his usual personality isn’t helping. So, he’ll change things around. His loud gestures and eccentric behaviour quiets down. 

-His next instinct is to wrap his arms around you. He always finds physical affection comforting, so wouldn’t you? Again, completely depends on the person and the mood. There is a very good chance it could work. 

-But if affection isn’t what you want, then he’s lost. Comforting words and advice isn’t really his strong suit. Panic sets in. What should he do?? What should he say?? He silently begs that someone- anyone- shows up to help. 

-There is zero chance of him getting any better at words, but he will try. He’ll tell you how gorgeous you are with tears and snot on your face, how great you are with dealing with him- just, anything nice he can think about you.

-His compliments are a bit weird, but he means well. And honestly, if he didn’t love you, he probably wouldn’t try. 

~

Well, this took forever. It’s not my best work, so I’m sorry it’s so short. I’m bad at comforting people and had no idea what to do. Also, happy holidays and happy New Years to everyone! Sorry for the wait, I’ve been kinda busy. Thank you for being patient! I love you all!

[koorinohebi]

@super-kame-love

Continued From:

I am curious: how would you describe Kiomi's relationship with Jiraiya? And with Koji Kashin? What you've shared about them so far seems very interesting and I must know more!

+ + +

Sorry for breaking it into two different posts, Kame-san. The other one felt so long already.

Quick note: IF you haven't read or watched Boruto, this will definitely contain spoilers.

So for this second one, we have...

Kashin Koji

So the main reason I was interested in him was when rumors were floating around that Jiraiya or someone that resembles him is back in Boruto. One look at his design and I was like, yeah. Unmistakably related in one way or another. Lo and behold my friend, lo and behold.

I have 2 verses for Kashin Koji. One is the one where you often see me mention Takeda. That one is an on going RP with @ambitiousparagon, and the other one is a verse where I pen Koji myself. The one with Takeda is still in the works and currently still very unpredictable, so for this instance I'll talk about my own version of Kashin Koji, which actually...more than Kiomi being the main focus, I tend to lean more towards the man himself. This is heavily influenced by headcanons that are based on what I noticed his personality being based on what we know so far.

So when I first encountered Kashin Koji there was hardly anything on him, which is to say, still very true currently. He hasn't been seen in the manga after his crushing defeat against Isshiki, and in the anime, they've given him a voice, and we see how he acts, but ultimately it doesn't differ from what we've already read in the manga (if you or any of the ones reading this have read it).

So Kashin Koji is, despite being quite whimsical, a no nonsense kinda guy. So he is very...well, I wouldn't call it by the book, but as a shinobi, he chooses the most efficient way to carry out the mission, which is...by default, how Amado had initially programed him-- Not as a perfectionist, no, but as Isshiki would say it, Amado's programming of Kashin Koji rode on his maker clinging onto Jiraiya's mighty fate. However, with Jiraiya being the template, it's not a surprise if Koji would inherit the man's sentiments, principles, and even slight eccentricities as a Shinobi (which I believe Amado had predicted and saw as a weakness. He needs and creates tools as he sees fit, and he'll use whatever he can to further his agenda). Amado strives to emulate within Kashin Koji the "star of change" which Jiraiya possessed. As we know, thanks not only to the prophecy, but also due to Jiraiya's diligence in searching for that revolutionary that could change the world, he was able to bring together (in one way or another) three of the most powerful game changers that we have who affected the course of the current History. If they wanted to defeat Isshiki, he needed that kind of trick up his sleeve. Because however, Kashin Koji has imperfections, and someone Jigen had deemed weaker than he is (because Jigen told Amado to dispose of clones more powerful than he was), our good professor faces a setback and thus needs to come up with a new plan (going to the Hokage, and asking them to kill Isshiki instead while having Kashin Koji show them the "ropes" on how it's done).

My take on him stems from this human weakness. Kashin Koji is aware of who he's supposed to be a clone of. We see this when he comments on his fate being tied to Konoha and the like. And admittedly, knowing your predecessor's legacy, not to mention having been able to perfect something that the original couldn't gives him a bit of an ability to brag, and believe that he can be just as great or even greater than Jiraiya.

But the question is how convinced he is of this himself. I do believe that Kashin Koji wants to be a person of his own, and in being the perfect heroic shinobi tool, even if he dies, it wouldn't be for naught so long as he brings down his target (which happens to be the biggest threat since Madara, Tobi, and Kaguya). Believing that Amadao was entrusting the fate of the world in his hands bolstered his confidence. However, when Isshiki pointed out the painful truth of Amado's betrayal and deception, he internally refuses to accept it. That he was just a pawn, and that he'd never break free from being nothing but Jiraiya's shadow. I always felt that if at the baseness of Jiraiya's personality, you have a decent grasp of his shortcomings, regrets, and insecurities, you'll get a good grasp of Kashin Koji too. Although it's just my headcanon (and people dont really have to abide by it), Koji too, is plagued by this ever looming sense of not being good enough, as well as not living up to the name of his original (very much like how Jiraiya felt his accomplishments dont match that of Sandaime or Minato).

So after this long explanation on my take on Kashin Koji, you may ask where Kiomi comes in. Well, she comes in as a form of support.

Just as with Naruto's unreasonable worry, the first time that Kiomi sees Kashin Koji, she's instantly unreasonably bothered by him as well. Worse, when the mask comes off, and she sees his face she is instantly appalled and angry because everything that she's been keeping inside is dragged to the surface. Of course, none of this was Kashin Koji's fault. It was more of Kiomi's own regret, and seeing him was like opening a can of worms for her, reminding her of all the things she wanted to do and say had her teacher been alive. At the same time, she's very irked that someone was running around with his face, because someone had the gall to deliberately make a "knock off" as she calls it, of the man she respects the most.

With this much animosity, one would wonder how Kiomi becomes his support. While Kiomi and Kashin Koji initially dislikes each other, the woman rejects the fact that he's just "some clone", as he is also a person who deserves to live his life as himself regardless of whether he was created as a tool or as a clone. If you remember from my first post about Kiomi and Jiraiya's relationship, this was exactly the same kind of treatment that Jiraiya gave Kiomi when she viewed herself as nothing more than a disposable chess piece. She doesn't say this outright to Kashin Koji though. He learns this on his own. Seeing that someone believed in his own possibilities gave him a little peace of mind, just a little. In effect, this draws his curiosity. Kashin Koji being an Inner of Kara does his assignment pretty well, so he would by effect, know who she was as too. He believed she would be one of those who would constantly see him as a glorified Kagebunshin, but surprisingly she didn't. In fact, seeing as he was who he was, it would make him a perfect replacement, but she didn't treat him like that. This makes him loosen up around her, enough that his usually snide and sarcastic remarks are now laced with a hint of fond teasing. Ironically, she hates it when he does this, as it reminds her of Jiraiya. (Because Jiraiya often teases her about one thing or another.)

One of my favorite interactions of them is probably this one, just because it shows a little bit of both their internal struggles and how they deal with each other.

===

“Tell me,” Instead of standing to leave, he remained seated opposite from her. Kashin Koji removed the mask which barred a portion of his face that she was surely uncomfortable seeing. And he was right. She averted her eyes briefly, before putting up a look of feigned indifference once their optics finally met.

There was relative distress in her features, that much he could tell while staring at her…curiously, seriously. “Do I resemble him? This Jiraiya of yours.”

Looking at him was like staring into a nightmare, a stark reminder of what she could never hope to have. However, she understood his question. They were past simple notions of physicality. It wasn’t just about his face, nor was it about his origin. It was deeper than that. For Kiomi’s alleged simple-mindedness, this concept was not something so hard to grasp. Not when this was the very base of the learnings she had inherited from the mentor she respected the most. Despite Jiraiya and Kashin Koji’s shared similarities, they were still two very different people, each with their own uniqueness. Besides, denying a man his own identity was probably the cruelest judgment any living being could impose on another.

“You don’t.” The answer came simply; however, he did not miss the semblance of melancholy that lingered upon her visage. To him, it felt indicative of disappointment…such fragile and complicated feelings.

“I see.” Kashin Koji had closed his eyes then, satisfied with the answer. In a sense, he felt his lips curve into a smirk. Two words of reassurance; to think that hearing something so simple had such a significant impact. And as for Kiomi who had only seen the man scowl at her existence, this look on his face for the first time caused her chest to ache. Perhaps in her words, she knew not if a lie existed; if only because such an expression looked frighteningly similar to her teacher’s.

“The two of you must have loved each other very dearly.” At this point, he had refocused his gaze upon the female, only to raise a brow shortly after. He had never seen anyone choke on air before. Her flustered features shouldn’t have been anything extraordinary, but it felt amusing. “Was I mistaken?”

“Yes, you’re wrong! You’re very wrong!” She retorted, her flushed face, easily beating the most crimson of fruits. “Everything, this…my…they’re all just…” She tried to calm down as she explained. “…they’re all just…what I’m trying to say is…whatever they are, they’re all just one-sided emotions…” She looked downtrodden. He recalled Naruto saying that their mentor died while she was away figuring out herself, and had carried a burden none of them could share. Jiraiya had meant everything to them, each within varying degrees unknown just how much to the other.

After learning that all of this was one sided, he looked at her with lethargy. “Are you actually an idiot after all?”

“Oi, you actually dare to call me an idiot in my own house? Besides, it’s not like I stood a chance against the person he sought after.” It wasn’t a secret to her after all, that he had his eyes on Lady Tsunade. What chance did she have against someone who had shared in his losses, successes, strife, and victories?

“Was what you felt actually so flimsy that it lost to someone else’s? Did you confirm it with your own mouth?”

The questions that bombarded her, matched with such an unexpected interrogator threw her off. So much that when she had come to her senses, she found herself face to face with Kashin Koji. If she was distraught earlier, then the ante had been upped then and there. Trapped in between his arms, being stared at, it felt horrible and suffocating for many reasons that she convinced herself that she couldn't understand. “Should I teach you just how lofty your feelings are?” He lingered so close, too close for comfort. But that was where she drew the line. Steeling herself, she pulled her head back just enough to give her some room to drive her forehead down against his. THWACK!

Both of them found themselves clutching their heads, one clicked his tongue and the other was cussing up a storm in her mind--and verbally, apparently.

“Don’t you dare mock me—“

She was on the verge of throwing him out, but there he was, laughing, collapsed on the floor as he held onto his forehead. She stifled her annoyance because she remembered how; pranks of the same nature had been done to her, by none other than her favorite mentor. And he would laugh just the same. At least sensei’s were a little more innocent and subtle. “Don’t laugh at me either!” She demanded with childish vigor, kicking him in the shin repeatedly. He fended them off well enough, which added to her irritation.

“That’s enough out of you.”

“You don’t get to tell me what to do in my own hou—hou—“ That was to say, if she wasn’t going to stop her assault, then he would have to play along. Grabbing her ankle when she struck, he pulled her over; just enough to make her balance crumble, bringing her down effectively.

“What the actual hell is wrong with you?”

“Even now, you’re struggling to protect what’s important to you. You may be a bit weaker than others, but it doesn’t seem like you’re lacking in persistence and perseverance. What are you so afraid of?”

Again with questions and commentaries that she did not ask for…

Her silence was enough of a response. Regrets, apprehensions, guilt, it was painted on her face. Shaking his head, Kashin Koji came to a stand and dusted himself, thereafter extending a hand for her to take.

“At the very least, come up to the starting line and show that mentor of yours your resolve.”

She begrudgingly looked at the hand that was offered to her. She felt ashamed and annoyed at herself because she knew that his point was valid. He wasn’t wrong, and in fact, he made more sense than she had wanted to admit. With an inward sigh, she took that hand and he helped her to her feet.

“…” Their grasp on each other persisted for a while. There was no warmth there; no comfort of a familiar friend, but there was a firmness that was enough to uproot whatever doubt it was that crept within the confines of her mind. She wouldn’t exactly call the other’s presence reassuring, but in a sense it was something close to it.

“Tsk, just who do you think you are? Acting all high and mighty?” Compared to before, the scowl had turned a bit friendly, but a scowl none the less.

“In case you haven’t heard or have been mistaking me for someone else, it’s Kashin Koji.” He replied with a tinge of whimsy in his voice. Matched with that was a tighter grip on the female’s hand which she reciprocated in kind. “Kiomi.” She rebutted against his satirical introduction.

When they at last released each other, there was probably a reddening mark there, but it also seemed like they’ve come to a certain understanding. “With a grip like that, what do you even hope to accomplish?”

Everything that comes out of his mouth is a fucking insult… Kiomi mused, unabashed by such a sentiment. Still, she watched him retrieve his mask only to wear it over his face once more. “I’ve a scouting mission at the Hokage’s behest. Two days time.” He stated out of the blue, walking towards her direction, incidentally near the exit. “Join me.”

“And why exactly, should I do that?” Folding her arms over her chest, she asked.

“Learn something useful rather than wallow in your self-pity.” Just before he could pass her completely, the intruder halted to cup her cheeks, moving it side to side casually.

(I made a thing.Lol Kiomi and her tendency to get manhandled.) There was no tenderness there, rather it seemed like he was inspecting a toy for some kind of defect. “You dont seem outclassed by anyone, not even by the Godaime. Put yourself to good use. You are a Shinobi, after all.”

“What does Lady Tsunade even have to do with this?”

“Who else would you feel so inferior to? It doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together. Besides,”

Finally, he’d relinquish his hold to observe her frame carefully. She was a slender woman, possibly bordering voluptuous underneath all that fabric. From the wrinkles and silhouette of her attire, he could tell that she was filled out in all the right places. Fair skin, a set of apprehensive platinum orbs…among other things. “You have the curves. Maybe not the appeal and self confidence, but you have the curves. You’ll be fine.”

Perhaps it was in that retort that Kiomi ran after Kashin Koji as he left her place, albeit with a senbon or two hurled at the man. “I was wrong; you’re probably just as much of a letch as sensei!”

The projectiles were caught between the fingers and twirled around with ease, no troubles at all. He contemplated for a mere second before deciding to keep them as a souvenir. “You wound me with your presumptuousness. I'm a busy man, and have no time for countless women. Such a disappointing assessment.” He waved her off, walking away and finally disappearing from sight.

===

Pardon the length, but this is how they normally interact in my story.

Koji serves as a challenge for Kiomi, while Kiomi serves as a "net" for Koji so that when he falls pray to his feeling of incompetency, he remembers that she expects him to plainly be Kashin Koji, and no one else. Both of them remind each other of something important which they both hope would make them better versions of themselves.

So what kind of relationship do they have? I'm pretty sure it's along the lines of frienemies.

[docmanda]

14 for some xie lian angst? Pretty please? Bonus points for him being trans

@zlodziej-wlasnej-tozsamosci there we go, I wrote a thing :-) it´s long and tumblr´s layout sucks so have a cut and I will post the link for the fic on AO3 too

Plain Brown Rice

Xie Lian should have known that a hydrangea bush would not be enough to conceal him from Hua Cheng for too long, his husband having developed a sixth sense for finding him by now if he even let him out of his sight at all. It was a testament of his bad luck making a reappearence that he had gotten separated from both of his husbands at the same time but this wedding was a big one after all, hundreds of fox spirits milling around the royal gardens of their Queen in a flurry of silks and fluffy tails, celebrating her Highness´beloved granddaughter´s wedding. And of course Hua Cheng would know immediately that he had been crying too, his happy smile at finding him after they had been seperated by the crowd instantly turning into a frown of worry. "Xie Lian..." Hua Cheng´s cold fingers are soft against his face, wiping away the moisture underneath his eye with the utmost care before kissing his cheek, "my love what happened? Why are you crying?" "Ah it´s nothing...", Hua Cheng´s gaze instantly turns hard and hurt, something that made Xie Lian cry never ´nothing´in his book after all and Xie Lian ducks his head slightly, feeling silly all over. "It really is nothing San Lang...I just, came here to be out of the crowd for a moment and overheard some people talking about us and I..." Xie Lian sighs heavily, closing his eyes as he tries to recount what happened for Hua Cheng. They had gotten seperated in the crowd and he had come here to the edge of the gardens in the hope of catching sight of one of his husbands from the outskirts of the wedding party, standing half hidden behind a luscious hydrangea bush, enjoying the scent of the blooming flowers when someone had started speaking on the other side of it. They clearly hadn´t seen him and Xie Lian was about to come out of his accidential hiding place when he heard his name being mentioned and froze. "That so called Dianxia, what´s his name? Xie something? Xie Lian? How boring...you really have to wonder how someone that useless and plain can manage to catch not one, but two supreme Ghost Kings at once. I mean that Kingdom of his has been gone for centuries now right, leaving nothing but rubble. If he wasn´t the one that chanced upon my sweet little niece and freed her from that trap years ago someone like him would never have been invited to her royal wedding like this, having such terrible ancestry. And they call him the scrap collecting God, whatever that is supposed to be...no proper title to his name, no estate, no power to speak of and on top of that he is as plain as rice, boring and bland." There is a giggle, high pitched and cruel. "No, like day old brown rice, boring and bland and ordinary, just good enough for peasants to eat. And surely nothing even close to good enough for the likes of Black Water and Crimson Rain. I mean that Chengzhu always had weird tastes, have you ever been to that town of his? Shameless I tell you. But you would expect more refinement out of someone like Lord Blackwater, he is a scholar after all with a proper education..and I sure as hell wouldn´t mind -him- waiting in my chambers at night I can tell you that." There´s more voices then hers, giggling slightly and suggesting even more unflattering monikers for Xie Lian, making the first one laugh again. The group had moved a little during their tirade and Xie Lian catches a glimpse of a magnificently made up, beautiful five tailed fox woman, covered in layers and layers of exquisite, translucent silks of all colors, sparkling with pearls and jewels and gold from the tip of her perfectly made up hair to her dainty little silk-clad feet and he suddenly wished he had allowed his husbands to make him up like this too, as much as he hated the confinement all that finery would have brought with it. They had put him into robes just as magnificent as this at first, clearly loving to dress him up in jewels and all kind of trinkets...but when it had been time to actually get ready for the wedding what had been waiting for Xie Lian had been two smiling husbands and a set of expertly made, but thankfully plain white robes instead of the finery. There were small, slightly off-white flowers woven into the hem and his sleeves, the same flower a small boy had gifted him so long ago and He Xuan had put his hair up in a simple bun, the crown they gave him plain silver with three small inlays in mother of pearl: The same small flower in the center, flanked by a fish jumping out of a wave and an intricately carved butterfly. His husband´s robes did match his too, He Xuan´s being his customary black with golden waves flowing along the hem and sleeves and Hua Cheng´s bright red, him forgoing his usual silver jewelry for woven, delicate silver butterflies. ´You looked so uncomfortable in all that fancy stuff we thought you might like this better´ and ´You are so beatiful already A-Lian, all this stuff would just make it harder to get it off later..ouch, what was that for Crimson Rain, you know I´m right stop pinching me..´ And Xie Lian had loved every single part of the outfit they gave him, simple but meaningful to the three of them...but some part of him still wishes he would have gone with the more elaborate robes they had prepared for him. At least he wouldn´t feel just as plain as he apparently was, small and unassuming and the part in him that could never stop to wonder -how- he had actually gotten so lucky to have not one, but two people fall in love with him as thoroughly as his husbands had. It was an old wound, but a deep one that feeling of being unworthy of kindness and affection that still plagued him from time to time and  that neither Hua Cheng nor He Xuan had yet managed to erase completely, no matter how much they showed their love for him. Xie Lian´s voice is small, knowing how -silly- the whole notion is, Hua Cheng and He Xuan -love- him, they show him with everything they do and say, a small crystal clear ring and a single, perfect black pearl around his neck the physical evidence of their adoration...and yet, he simply can´t get rid of that feeling of inadequancy. "They said I was plain...like day old brown rice, ordinary and boring. That I´m not good enough for you." "Who said that?" Crimson Rain Sought Flower´s voice is as sharp as his sabre´s blade, promising quick retribution and a painful death to anybody who dares belittle his one God...and even worse, make him cry. His eye scans the crowd as if he can find the perpetrator by pure will alone, killing intent bubbling up around him, making He Xuan look up in sudden alarm, rudely pushing aside a lady who had been trying to talk to him and immediately walking over, his own aura growing dark around him in answering worry. Xie Lian hastily wipes his eyes, grabbing for his San Lang´s sleeve. "Ah, please San Lang it doesn´t matter, it´s not of importance, I´m just being sensitive today, it´s probably just the wine haha.." Crimson Rain Sought Flower and Black Water Sinking Ships just raise their eyebrows at him, in unison, and it would be funny if both of them weren´t close to murdering a wedding party just because Xie Lian overheard an unhappy thing and couldn´t keep his mouth shut, He Xuan not even knowing what was going on, the sight of Xie Lian in distress enough incentive to follow Crimson Rain´s lead for him. Xie Lian can see the first heads start to turn and look at them. He had been hidden well enough behind his hydrangea bush that nobody saw him cry, but the surging power of the Devastations at his side is hard to cover up in a room full of magic beings...and it doesn´t need a proficient magic user for their displeasure and aggression being obvious. "Please my loves...I know you only want to protect me but it is their -wedding- , don´t ruin it because a single person in a hundred said an unkind thing.." It takes another second of suspense before Hua Cheng sighs and pulls him close with one arm, pressing a kiss into the soft hair on Xie Lian´s temple before resting his chin on Xie Lian´s head, not caring that anybody can see their display of affection. Neither does He Xuan when he leans in close for a kiss of his own, cold fingers slipping between Xie Lian´s warm ones. "Alright gege, but just because it is you asking...but we will be having a very serious talk about that whole "I am not good enough for you"-thing later." He Xuan twitches and his scandalized ´Who said that?´ exactly mirroring what Hua Cheng had exclaimed earlier would be funny too if it didn´t bring another spike of killing intent with it. This time it is Hua Cheng though who grabs for his sleeve keeping the other Devastation from doing something rash, like summoning his dragons in the middle of a wedding for example. "Calm down Black Water sheesh...Gege overheard someone talk shit about him and had another one of his ´I don´t deserve you´-moments hiding behind a bush." The sarcastic uncertone in his voice ruffles He Xuan´s feathers just enough for his focus to shift from ´100 easy ways to kill effectively and leave the Gods to sort out the innocent´ onto Hua Cheng...and only a long suffering, pleading look from amber colored eyes keeps him from tearing right back into the other Devastation. He is pretty sure that Xie Lian´s ´please don´t ruin the wedding´ includes fighting between him and Crimson Rain too. "..please, behave?" Xie Lian´s voice is tired with an undertone of love, like an overworked mother trying to keep her kids in check and both Devastations smile a little sheepishly, bending down at the same time to kiss him on the cheek, one side for each Devastation, finally getting a small giggle at their ridiculousness out of Xie Lian. When one of their hosts finally walks over, a young girl, barely into her second tail, clearly sent as a deliberately non-threatening envoy, carefully eyeing the Devastations at Xie Lian´s side his usual smile is back in his place. "Taizi Dianxia is anything the matter? The noble  Lords seem...distressed? Is there anything not to your liking?" Even at a wedding party full of fox spirits the two Supremes are still the most powerful beings in the room, aside maybe from the bride´s nine tailed, royal grandmother, so it stands to reason that everybody wants to keep them happy...including Xie Lian, who smiles apologetically at the young girl and bows slightly to her. "Ah I apologize. Your fantastic wine is a little too rich for me I fear and I was feeling a little unwell just now, making them worry. Please, don´t pay us any mind, it´s nothing a little fresh air won´t cure and my husband´s favorite hobby is fussing about me so I will be perfectly fine." The fox girl giggles a little at that, clearly relieved that nothing serious had happened and it was just a case of the Prince´s husbands getting worried over nothing. They exchange a few more polite words before she scampers away again, off to report to whoever sent her that nothing terrible was amiss after all. "Look at you Gege, lying without getting red in the face, I am proud of you." Xie Lian swipes at Hua Cheng for that, a soft blush covering his face at the gentle teasing as he grabs for his husband´s hand, dragging him along with He Xuan following them like a very black, protective shadow. "You are terrible, San Lang. And i am hungry, I did have a lot of wine which was probably a bad idea. Lets go find something to eat before all the good things are gone yes?" As usual, Hua Cheng is in favor of anything that makes Xie Lian happy having no objections to that...and He Xuan is always in favor of anything having to do with food anyway. Which is exactly what Xie Lian was planning on, trying to distract them from the anger he can still feel simmering in them. Hua Cheng does finally tell He Xuan what had actually happened, the other Devastation clearly as unhappy about it all as Hua Cheng but a soft pleading look from Xie Lian is enough for the moment for him to let go of it. And that´s where they´re staying for most of the night, close to the lavish spread of food arranged on a series of small tables, chatting to a never ending stream of relatives to the royal bride that Xie Lian saved, all wanting to have a look and a chat, at Xie Lian as well as his famous husbands. Mostly the conversations are pleasant, ranging from simply polite to heated discussions of some form of obscure poetry between the bride´s granduncle on her father´s side and He Xuan, who nearly stabs the poor old fox in the face with a half eaten bit of pastry forgotten in his hand when he tries to emphasize a point. It is testament to how passionate they are about that topic when He Xuan doens´t even so much glance at a laughing Hua Cheng and it needs the help of two more aunts to drag the granduncle away again before things can completely deteriorate. They finally managed to catch a moment of the bride´s time, silently chatting with her and her newly wedded husband when Xie Lian suddenly grows tense against Hua Cheng´s arm. And it doens´t take a genius to guess that the reason for this must be the new group of three who just joined their little conversation circle, a lavishly dressed and decorated five tailed lady -probably an older female relative of some kind to their bride- shadowed by what are probably her younger sisters. Hua Cheng´s brows draw together in a frown, his arm tightening around Xie Lian´s waist...until a sharp small tug at the back of his tunic brings him back to his senses. Xie Lian is slightly pale around his nose, softly shaking his head ´no´and thus confirming what Hua Cheng had suspected from the start: that these were the ones who had made Xie Lian uncomfortable enough to hide himself and cry. He Xuan seems to have noticed nothing wrong, still casually eating while pretending to be disinterested in whatever kind of topic the three of them were currently discussing with a slightly uncomfortably smiling bride...but Hua Cheng can see his golden eyes grow sharp as daggers, never letting the fox woman out of his sight. "..I just think this particular cut is so much more suited to bring out a lady´s advantages properly don´t you think? You are such a pretty thing you really should not be wearing such old fashioned rags...but don´t take my word for it then, let´s ask someone else.." She turns to He Xuan with a flourish, eyeing him in a way that makes it very clear that, while he was in fact very well dressed, she would vastly prefer him to be wearing nothing at all. "My Lord Black Water. You clearly are someone who has impeccable taste in fashion...what do you think about this new style of robe I am wearing?" Black Water finally looks up from his bowl, having been directly adressed after all, while the fox woman does a little twirl for him, very unsubtly showing off the way the fabric is draped around her full soft bossom, emphasizing her tiny waist and delicate throat to the fullest. Xie Lian can feel something in his throat constrict painfully at the display-plain, like day old brown rice indeed- gently pulling on Hua Cheng´s hand to please get him out of there when... "Vulgar." And then He Xuan turns back to his bowl, clearly done with the conversation and the flabbergasted woman in front of him paying her no mind at all anymore. Xie Lian is so surprised he has to quickly hide a smile behind a fake cough, while Hua Cheng can´t be bothered to conceal his laughter, not in the very least concerned about the cruelty of it. After all that bitch in front of them deserved that and a lot of things more, she should be happy that He Xuan was still on his best behaviour and didn´t tear into her more then he already had. She gapes at them for a few more minutes before turning around on her heel in a huff, her two sisters following her hastily as she takes her leave. Only when she has left does He Xuan look up from his bowl again, a sharp, satisfied grin showing his white teeth. "Unfortunately for her..," he scoops something up from his bowl with his chopsticks, slipping it into Xie Lian´s mouth and following up with a soft kiss as his husband starts chewing reflexively, "...plain brown rice is our favorite." Hua Cheng laughs at that, placing a kiss into his husbands soft hair before doing the same to He Xuan...and Xie Lian is sure there has never been a single bite of rice sweeter then the one currently in his mouth.

[5-falsehoods-phonated]

Ruin

Summary: An attempt to get Roman and Remus to get along fails and leaves Remus reeling. Indulging in a bad habit to try and keep the thoughts away from Thomas leads to Logan finding out, though instead of the ridicule he's expecting, he receives kindness instead.

Warnings: self harm, slight unsympathetic Roman, slight disassociation, hurt with happy ending

Please do not read with the intention if triggering yourself. If you are triggered by self harm I and other authors have others stories for you to read. Stay safe.

Ships: platonic intrulogical, Logan x Remus

WC: 2, 140

"You're just useless! Nothing you do has any purpose other than to torment and I'm so sick of it!"

Remus recoiled from his brothers harsh words, cookies spilled on the floor from where he had swept them away. He had been rather pleased with how vague the penis shape actually was, chocolate chips painstakedly placed so you'd only notice if you looked closely. Roman had looked closely.

Sometimes Remus genuinely couldn't help doing things impulsively; the idea had come to his mind and he had done it without a thought to any possible repercussions and now Roman was mad and it had actually been going well for once but now he had ruined it just like he always did and what if he just stabbed him to get rid of the problem?

The thought came abruptly and without prompt, making him blink back to reality as Roman continued to rant before noticing he hadn't been paying attention.

"But of course you don't care. You aren't even paying attention to a word I'm saying. You ruin everything and I don't understand why I even try!" Ever the dramatic, Roman sunk out with a final huff and throw of his arms, leaving Remus stuck standing trembling in the middle of a mess. No one else was around, leaving the twins alone for "bonding time". Wasn't that a laugh and a half.

'I wonder if the cookies could act like marbles in those old cartoons and I'd slip and fall and crack my head open and-' Drawing a shaky breath his busied himself with cleaning to try and dispell the unwanted thoughts. It was in his nature to be impulsive, brash. He was loud and insistant, truly the living embodiment of Intrusive Thoughts that plagued Thomas' mind when it got to be too much to hold in.

'What if you smashed your hand in the oven?' He turned the oven off and went to grab a broom. 'How hard would you have to fall for a broom to stab through your intestines? How fast would you have to run to stab someone else's?'

Kitchen relatively clean he spun around once more to make sure. 'Just grab a knife. You don't have to use it, just feel it.'

If he sunk out while holding the fridge could he smash Roman with it?

Roman's dark blood staining the carpet an even deeper red.

Remus standing by as the other screamed.

How easy would those screams be to shut up.

How easily would he be to shut up.

Could fascets die? Was it worth trying to find out?

Subconsciously he realized he was walking down the hall to his room, eyed glazed over as the thoughts continued making him feel spacey and fake. He shut the door behind him and stood for what felt like hours, head going everywhere and no where at once until one thought forced him to snap out of it slightly.

'You're going to hurt Thomas. You're going to make him want to hurt others.'

He embodied intrusive thoughts and bad creativity but most of the time those thoughts were just remembering unpleasant sensations or thinking of a crude or out of context joke that would be inappropriate to say out loud. It was random, harmless thought spirals that most of the time you could shake your way out of and Remus simply did whatever random thing there was to do around the mind scape to get rid of excess energy. When he was upset however, the thought spirals grew darker, more suggestive, supplying ghastly images that he wouldn't mind seeing if it was sat in front of a horror movie but as it was...

Persistent thoughts continued to pound through his head, flicking between hurt to angry to apathetic and back before he could breathe. He wanted to hurt something, someone, and he could practically feel the toxic mindset leaching into Thomas' thought process even as he struggled to contain it. He ripped through his desk drawers desperately, everything neat despite his chaotic nature though the desperation rose as hiding spot after hiding spot came up empty. Chewed nails scraped at the underside of the bed frame then groped in the darkest corners of his room. His eyes landed on a small picture frame, a drawing he had done that Janus had framed long ago before any of this had been a problem and quickly went to rip it off the wall.

Taped to the back a small blade glinted passively in the dull light, making his breath hitch in relief as he grabbed it out of its confines. His sleeve went up without a thought until he forced all of concentration on the task at hand.

The first few, well several, cuts were nothing. His skin tingled numbly as straight lines were drawn across it, taking a second or two to well up with blood but by then he had already moved on. Just a small patch, right below his elbow on his outer arm. Thicker skin made for more lines. It wasn't until they began to overlap that he truly felt it, minutes later, stinging and angry and flowing and...

Quiet.

His mind was silent for once. Blissful peace after the turmoil of not ten minutes before hand. The razor fell to the floor as he bit his lip tiredly and stared at the slow growing puddle on the floor. The blood flow slowed, just barely pulsing out with his heartbeat. Looking around reality set itself in place and the slight whooshing in his ears abated just enough for him to hear persistent knocking at the door.

Wait.

Scrambling in a half panic Remus yanked his sleeve back down, letting out a hiss before shoving a blanket to the floor and stumbling over to the door, nearly getting a fist to his face when he got it open.

Logan's startled face quickly knitted into concern as he glanced Remus over, pursing his lips in thought.

"What is it Nerdy Wolverine." His tone was flat but he couldn't bring himself to care.

"I overheard your argument, I thought it would be alright to assume you may need some level of...comfort."

Remus laughed tiredly. "Did Ro not open his door?"

Logan had the decency to look confused. "I don't know, I didn't check."

"You didn't....check on Roman? You came for me first?" It had to be a trick, some idiotic set up Patton had created. Check on the evil twin first to make sure he isnt wrecking havoc then check the better one to be sure he's okay. "Get out."

He slammed the door unceremoniously in the logical sides face, leaning against it heavily.

"Remus." His voice came through muffled. "I assure you I mean well. Roman can be...a lot. I simply wish to make sure everything is alright."

Remus didn't answer.

"Remus I will be frank," and Remus could barely make out the added 'though my name is Logan' mumbled as an afterthought. "I smelled the blood. Either you tell me why or I will come in and figure it out myself."

Swallowing Remus called out weakly. "It was an experiment Google Dex, it's fine."

"The fact that there was not one disturbing punchline in that sentence says otherwise."

"You can't come in."

"I could."

"I might hurt you."

"You won't."

"I'm dangerous."

"You're not."

"You don't know that."

"I do."

"I ruin everything."

"You aren't ruining anything."

"You've said that before. To Virgil"

"Yes. But saying it before to a different person doesn't make the statement any less true."

Remus gripped at his still bleeding arm, knocking his head against the door softly before rocking himself to his feet and stepping back. "Fine."

The door opened and Logan immediately swept the room before settling on first the tipped drawers, then the blanket still heaped on the floor and finally settling on Remus himself. He zeroed in on the arm he was still holding, prompting the darker side to drop it immediately even though it was too late. Silently Logan held out his hand and looked imploringly at Remus, starting him to comply.

"I know. And it's alright Remus it truly is. I just want to help."

Confused but intrigued Rrmus let his hands be taken and tugged to the bed, giving a half hearted eye brow wiggled that earned a small smirk from Logan before he snapped up a first aid kit. He carefully rolled up the sleeve, not even flinching as the mess was revealed to him. Five babywipes and a roll of gauze later his arm was bandaged neatly, causing him to look questioningly at the other.

"How are you so calm about this? You don't"

"No. But I know basic first aid." Logan sat back and looked up at him. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Remus looked up and away, tugging his sleeve back down and wincing at the dull ache the action caused. "I made Roman mad because I was being stupid-"

"Falsehood. Try again."

Snapping his head back he opened and shut his mouth before blurting out another excuse. "Roman yelled because I was being impulsive-"

"Nope. Again."

"I was-"

"Remus." Logans tone effectively shutting him up he couldn't help but squirm in confusion. "You didn't do anything. Maybe you could have discussed the....creative take you were going with with your design, but you had split the batch had you not? Roman should have stayed out of what you were doing with yours."

"You were watching?"

"I wanted to make sure no one got hurt. You two tend to become physical and I was there to expel any conflict should it turn violent. I was not however, prepared for a one sided screaming match. Roman has been stressed and while that isn't an excuse it isn't a new occurrence. Why was this-" Logan gestured to his arm. "Done as a stress response? You've argued before haven't you?"

Remus twisted his fingers together. "My head gets loud. And bad. Sometimes I'm afraid I'll make Thomas hurt something, so I hurt instead to calm it for a while."

Logan nodded. "That's perfectly understandable."

"It is?"

"Unhealthy. But yes, understandable. I will ask that you try finding a less destructive way to calm these thoughts. You may think this is helping Thomas but I assure you he'd much rather work with you in a healthy way than you destroying yourself in the background."

Slowly, Remus blinked down at him. "What?"

"I said-"

"I know what you said I just...why do you care?"

Logan stood. "Why wouldn't I? You are an integral part of who we are and as unconventional as you may be at times, you are still apart of the family. I care a great deal."

He said this flippantly, as if it was obvious, completely oblivious to the way it took Remus' breath and heart and soul and made him want to projectile vomit it onto the floor in front of the other man's feet.

"You really care?" Remus blurts out quietly.

"Of course." Logams reply is simple, logical. Clipped but with an undertone that was unmistakably kind even with the impassivity he was attempting to pull off. He sucked in a breath as a hand was extended to him, looking up with a raised eyebrow.

"I thought you might like company, and it might be a good idea to not be in this room right now. Staying in a place of hurt often makes you want to continue the hurt and I'd rather it cease for today."

Hesitantly Remus took the offered hand and followed Logan out the door and into another room lined with books and posters and odd sciencey bits and baubles. He immediately gravitated towards the bookshelf after getting a nod of consent from the owner, plopping down and curling to the side to read the spines. Feeling a nudge he turned and was met with a plate with a few of his cookie creations placed neatly on it.

"Some weren't knocked down and were salvageable. The chip placement makes for a very symmetrical taste experience that I quite enjoy." Remus looked on in amazement as Logan prattled on, taking a cookie for himself and watching Logan take two before sitting down at his desk to eat and work. Grinning to himself he stuffed the rest of the treats in his mouth and bent at a different angle to read book titles again, sharing the silence with the other side contentedly.

He still felt bad and useless and a million other things at once that crawled beneath his skin and raged against his nerves. He looked over at Logan happily munching away at the crude cookie making him smile wider.

He still felt shitty but maybe there were things he didnt ruin after all.

This work and others is available on AO3!

Please do not tag duke don't look.

[marshmallow-phd]

Midnight Hours

Part of The Untamed - EXO Wolf Universe

Genre: Wolf!AU

Pairing: Sehun x Reader

Summary: For you, being a good witch was easier said than done. Something dark was lurking inside of you and the others knew it. When you’re forced to tag along with Soomi and help a local wolfpack face a coming evil, you’re sent on a path that breaks into a crossroads. While you struggle with your inner demons, could the wolf Sehun be the key to your ultimate fate?

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I 11 I 12 I 13 I 14 I 15 I 16 I 17 I Final

**

Soomi stayed with you out in the woods for another hour or so, letting you sit there in silence while she talked about the different plants that surrounded you. She knew that you didn’t really care if this leaf could be used in a mixture to cure burns instantly or if that flower contained a nectar that was the main ingredient for a sleeping potion. It was simply a tactic to try and get your mind off of the current predicament. You couldn’t really say that it was working, but you appreciated the thought.

“We should probably go back now,” Soomi sighed after a while. It was the first sign of reluctance you’d seen from her since this whole situation began. As much as she put on a brave face, you knew she was still hurting inside.

When she first told you about Junmyeon, you were still a teenager, young, but not naive. She’d been so starry-eyed when she described the soon-to-be professor during your skype sessions that you were sure she’d come home with this new man on her arm. But then she told you the big secret: he was a wolf.

Even though you were still technically a child, you suddenly felt like the adult as you yelled at the screen. You told her to run. You told her to walk away and forget about him. The animosity between witches and wolves might have subsided slightly – at least with your coven – but that still didn’t mean she was safe. This Junmyeon could have been the perfect man that she was describing, but even if he didn’t physically hurt her, she still wouldn’t walk away unscathed. When his mate showed up, she would be the only one heartbroken.

But she didn’t listen to you and what you’d predicted came true: his mate had shown up and any feelings he might have had for Soomi disappeared like dirt in the wind. She swore that she was fine. She swore that she was over it, that’d she’d been prepared for a long time now, and she only wanted to be his friend. But you knew it wasn’t entirely true. Soomi was too kind to have to go through such cruel things.

“Or we could just go home?” you offered with a sarcastic smile. You didn’t think she would agree to it at all, but you had to try if it meant not having to run into that particular wolf again. As obnoxious and hurtful as his words were, you’d been through worse. It was the fact that his presence made you uneasy that you wanted to leave and never see him again. The quivering feeling in your stomach had subsided as you stayed out here where it was safe, but you dreaded the idea of it coming back.

It wasn’t a fearful uneasiness and that was what worried you the most. There wasn’t a direct adjective to describe the feeling; it was just… there. And you’d much rather avoid it – and him.

“Nice try,” Soomi chuckled as she pushed herself back up to her feet. “Just try to focus on the fact that once this is over, it means its over. Maybe no more visions or coming doom if you simply… wait it out.”

“Wait it out,” you sighed. “Story of my life, right?”

Soomi looked at you with a defeated expression, making your heart sink. To try and make it go away, you stepped up and wrapped your arms around her torso. A short, surprised laugh pushed out of her mouth before she returned the hug in full force.

“I’m sorry for being a jerk,” you whispered, still holding on tight.

Soomi patted your head as she said, “If anyone has the right to be a jerk, I’d say it was you at the moment, but I appreciate the apology.”

Stepping back, you let out a short sigh. “Okay. Let’s go back to the chaos they call a house.”

With a smile, Soomi took your hand and the two of you walked back to the clearing to face the wolves once again.

**

The run failed to accomplish what Sehun had set out to do. Instead of calming his system down and taking his mind off of the news he’d been ambushed with this morning, it only succeeded in making him more anxious. The effects of the mate pull were already starting to creep in, to take over. He hardly knew your name and yet he was already worried about you.

What did it matter if you got a little upset? Why did he have to care that you’d ran out of the kitchen and into the woods? You were a witch, couldn’t you take care of yourself in these trees?

The beast inside snarled at him as he stepped up on the porch, jeans gripped tight in his hand.

“Shut up,” he hissed at the wolf through gritted teeth. Clutching the handle of the front door with a little too much force, he shoved the barrier open, stomped through the front parlor and then froze.

You were sitting on the couch, legs folded under you with a notebook and pencil in hand. Eyes wide as the full moon, you stared at him opened mouth before flinging the notebook up to cover your face. “What the hell?!”

Oh. Right.

Perhaps he should have put the clothes on before coming inside the house.

Ignoring you to the best of his ability, Sehun continued through the living room and up the stairs to his room. Thankfully it was empty of Tao and Lottie, saving him even a little shred of dignity.

He didn’t used to have to worry about things like that. Even with the few mates that were around in the beginning of this seemingly endless rotation, he was free to continue on as normal. And that meant not having to put on the old clothes that had been laying out in the dirt and grass when he came back sweaty and tired from a hard run. But as the house became filled to the brim with females – and now a child running around as well – Sehun was forced to be a bit more obliging. Maybe he should just stay in his room all the time now. It would be easier to avoid you that way. He hoped the less interaction he had with you, the less likely the bond would grow and maybe the two of you could go on with your lives with no one being the wiser.

That’s not going to work.

Sehun growled at himself as he made his way over to the bathroom, shutting the door with a loud bang behind him.

It didn’t work that way. He knew it. He’d seen it. How many worried glances had he given Jongdae as he whined in pain, each attack increasing in strength the more he fought the pull? The only time the older wolf ever had even the slightest bit of relief was when he hid around the corner, watching Jiyoung happily serve customers through the window of the café. Sehun still remembered the way Jongdae’s shoulders would relax, releasing the tension that had been built up for days and – while at the time he always denied it – the smallest of smiles would creep onto his face, reflecting a sparkle in his eyes, like he could spend hours at that window, content at simply watching his mate do the most mundane things imaginable.

Would he be like that soon too?

Shaking his head, Sehun stepped into the steaming shower. His hope was to wash away the scrambled thoughts and incoherent babble that was currently plaguing his brain. He didn’t want to think about being mated anymore. He didn’t want to think about the consequences if he continued down the course of ignoring it. He wanted to rewind to yesterday, when he was still free and unattached.

“Hey, Sehun?”

Sehun let out a cry, nearly slipping in the water at the sudden intrusion of Baekhyun’s voice. Peeking out from behind the shower curtain, he snapped, “What?”

“Touchy,” Baekhyun scoffed. Sehun could have sworn he locked the door, but with Baekhyun, something as flimsy and inconsequential as a bathroom lock matter exactly zilch. “We’re having lunch and Junmyeon wants you to join us.”

“I’ll be down in a minute,” he grumbled. Baekhyun threw him a salute before shutting the door once more. So much for staying away.

Rinsing out the last of the shampoo, Sehun turned off the water and stepped out onto the bath mat, leaving behind water-induced footprints as he dried off with a towel and headed back to his room to get dressed.

Down in the kitchen, a majority of the mates were already eating whatever meal Kyungsoo and Dana had taken the liberty of making. From the smells that floated in the air and the clanking of spoons against porcelain bowls, it seemed that Dana had made her famous soup. Excellent. He was starving.

“Here.” Junmyeon all but shoved the fresh bowl of soup into Sehun’s hands, sloshing the liquid and almost making a mess on the tile floor. It didn’t take the second coming of Einstein to see that Junmyeon was still a little irritated with him, but the alpha would get over it soon enough. Being the youngest in the group had its advantages after all.

Happily taking the warm meal, Sehun shuffled over to the side of the kitchen, leaning up against the counter next to Luhan, who was watching his mate with careful eyes as she sipped tiny spoonful’s of soup. Harper was still adjusting to life here as well as everyone adjusting to her now constant presence. It was hard not to be cagey around her, especially since she’d almost killed Minseok. Most of the mates liked her – even Ji Yeon had warmed up to her after a while. But Sehun still kept his distance. It was hard, seeing his closest brother go through that. It stung even more knowing that he didn’t confide in any of them about it. Slowly but surely, they were all moving past the incident, but Harper still kept to herself when it came to a majority of the wolves.

“Okay,” Junmyeon sighed when he was done with his own bowl. After placing it in the sink and getting a side-eye glare from Minseok was that was easily ignored, he moved a little closer to the center of room, arms crossed over his chest. “It’s time to finish our conversation from earlier.”

“Which part?” Jongin asked after he finished slurping up what was left of Kimberly’s soup.

“The living arrangements part,” Junmyeon replied.

Baekhyun pulled Hae In onto his lap while she didn’t seem the least bit bothered, continuing on her side conversation with Lottie. “Where did they sleep last night?”

“In Jongin’s room.”

Sehun barely bit back a growl in time at that news. There was no reason to be jealous, but that didn’t stop the emotion from rearing its ugly head in that moment. A tiny crack appeared near the rim of the bowl when Sehun’s grip had tightened before he checked himself. Glancing to make sure no one had noticed or was watching him too closely, he slyly adjusted the bowl so his hand was covering the break. Then he lifted his eyes and immediately regretted it.

You were staring at him. Not point blank, but with little flickers as you tried to keep your concentration focused on Junmyeon. Something kept pulling your gaze to him. Feeling cheeky, Sehun smirked, pretending to be cocky about your earlier encounter. That seemed to pull you out of it as you cleared your throat and adjusted yourself in the chair so you were profile to him.

“They can keep my room,” Jongin offered. Sehun had to put the bowl down behind him before he smashed it to pieces.

“Then where are you going to go?” Jongdae asked aggressively. On the pack’s side or not, he was still distrustful of the witches, evident by the way he never let Jiyoung go whenever one was around. He seemed to easily forget that Soomi was the main reason that Jiyoung was even around with his mark on her neck.

Jongin shrugged. “I can stay at Kimberly’s.”

Said mate was currently fighting back a beaming smile at that suggestion.

Junmyeon, however, dashed those hopes as he shook his head. “No, I’d rather us all stay together for the time being.”

“She can take my bed.”

All eyes snapped towards Sehun as soon as the words left his mouth. He hadn’t even had time to think about the words before they’d escaped. But he knew it would be the only solution that wouldn’t cause him to go insane.

“Sehun, are you feeling okay?” Luhan joked beside him, elbowing his side for good emphasis.

He threw Luhan a look before saying, “Tao and I have two beds in our room and there’s two of them. It makes sense, that’s all.”

He cringed internally, wondering if he put a little too much defense into his reasoning.

“Then where are we supposed to go?” Tao whined as he pointed back and forth between himself and Lottie.

The latter scoffed. “I think you mean ‘you’. I have a place to sleep.”

“At your parents’ house,” Lanie scoffed teasingly.

“Hey, I’ll take rent-free while I can,” Lottie argued back playfully.

“That, and you enjoy sneaking Tao through your window at night,” Hae In snorted.

“Girls,” Junmyeon scolded. “Can we stay on track here, please?”

Only Lottie seemed the tiniest bit remorseful while the others just shrug.

Yes. Let’s get back on track and finish this so I can leave again. Avoidance might not be the best answer right now, but with you so close, he was having a hard time concentrating on anything else. No wonder the others were so nauseating when their mates were around. To feel that you were real and tangible was an almost irritable urge.

Great. Now he was making himself sick.

“Sehun does have a point,” Kris agreed, much to his relief. “But where will they go?”

“There’s plenty of floor space,” Sehun said. Tao whined, but didn’t give any further protest to the idea.

Evie, however, had another suggestion. “Why don’t we go into town and get a fold out couch and put it in the basement? There’s plenty of room down there and I’m sure you’d both be more comfortable.”

“Why don’t we just get the pullout couch for them?” That question quickly earned Tao a slap on the shoulder from Lottie. “Ow!”

“You can’t just make them sleep on a pullout couch,” Lottie chastised. “It’s called chivalry.”

You rolled your eyes, having moved to a positon where Sehun could see you again after his initial offer. “We can take the pullout, it’s not a big deal.”

Sehun hated that idea more than you staying in Jongin’s room, although he couldn’t quite figure out why. “No, we’ll take it. You’ll take the beds.”

You apparently didn’t take kindly to his word usage. “Are you ordering me?”

Sehun scoffed. “No, I’m telling you, there’s a difference.”

“I don’t think there’s much of a difference there,” you argued.

Junmyeon growled, effectively ending the verbal boxing match before it could get too out of hand. “This was not the fight I was expecting to happen.”

Soomi looked uncomfortable and guilty as she ran her lithe fingers through her hair. “I know you wanted to keep us close by, Junmyeon, but maybe it’s really best if (y/n) and I go to a nearby hotel. Surely there’s a place outside of town on the way here that has a room.”

Junmyeon shook his head. “No. I promised Mother Willow that we would look after you and I’m not going back on that.” Turning to the rest of them, he declared, “This is what is going to happen: (y/n) and Soomi will take Sehun and Tao’s room. Kris and I will go into town and buy the pullout today and get it down to the basement for Tao and Sehun. End of discussion.”

A few grumbles of agreement made their rounds throughout the room before settling into silence. Content for the time being, Sehun pushed off the counter and left the kitchen.

**

What the hell was that all about? You pondered on that for the millionth time as you unzipped your suitcase on one of the beds. The question had been bouncing around your head since you watched Sehun leave the kitchen with no answer in sight. Was this supposed to be his way of making up his attitude from this morning? If it was, he was terrible at apologizing.

Knock, knock.

“Come in,” you called out as you started pulling clothes out and walked over to the dresser that Junmyeon had picked up for you as well. As much as you didn’t mind living out of your suitcase for however long this was to last, you appreciated the thought anyway.

Whoever it was didn’t announce themselves when they entered the room. You knew it wasn’t Soomi as she said she was going to call Mother Willow and update her on the fact that you’d made it safely and were settling in. Phone calls like that were never short and sweet with Mother Willow and poor Soomi had left less than five minutes ago. Since your visitor didn’t seem to be in much of a hurry, you continued to unpack with your back to them.

“The other bed is more comfortable.”

You stiffened at the voice. What did he want?

Turning around slowly, you crossed your arms over your chest and lifted a brow. “So, what? It’s a bed.”

The wolf’s stance confused you. He kept shifting from foot to foot as if he was agitated about something. His hands were stuffed into the pockets of his jeans and the muscles in his jaw were tight. He didn’t respond to your snarky comment which just confused you further.

You huffed, “Did you need something?”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For this morning.”

“This morning?”

“Yeah.”

Silence.

You knew what he meant by this morning. And, truth be told, you were over it, wordlessly accepting the apology. That didn’t mean you wanted him to think you were a pushover.

Sehun looked away at the dresser, frowning. He took a deep breath, wincing like you smelled bad before releasing the used air out of his lungs. As soon as his eyes were back on you, your heart did a back flip. You tried to swallow to get it back down in its proper place, but that did little good. There was so much happening in his deep brown eyes that you couldn’t even begin to decipher what he was thinking.

“I’m sorry again, about what I said,” he repeated, finally easing whatever tension had been building between you. “If you need anything, let me know.” With that, he turned back towards the door.

“Did Junmyeon put you up to this?” you asked suddenly before he could disappear.

He froze, barely looking at you over his shoulder. His eyes flashed with conflict before he motioned to the other bed with head. “That bed’s more comfortable. Use it.”

And he left.

Rolling your eyes, you scoffed. Well, there was your answer. Yes.

And yet, even with how irritated you were in the current moment, you found yourself picking up your suitcase and moving over to the other bed.

Because it was more comfortable.

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

[nala-raines]

Pro-life

Author’s note: With the election coming up, and upon learning one of Harris’ views it felt right to write this now. I am well aware of the fact some of you won’t agree with me, fill the comments with hate, or even try and get my account deleted, but I feel a call to write this. I have felt this type of call before, and I believe it to be from God. If you already want to get me off tumblr, I understand, but please read this through. All I ask is that you read this first, and try to have an open mind. After that, say whatever you want, do whatever you want to do. My purpose for writing this is to state my opinion, and why I believe it. 

Abortion has been a plague in our society since 1973. Abortion is the act of ending a pregnancy before the baby is born. There are several different ways for an abortion to be carried out, but each one can have a devastating affect on the mother. The women that get an abortion can go through lasting reproductive health problems, severe psychological problems, and the lasting guilt of ending a life that had barely begun.

Even though each type of abortion has its own set of risks, each one can have a lasting affect on your reproductive organs. Most options need to use some medical tools that could poke or tear something in the uterus. There have also been several reports in women that have had an abortion earlier in their lives, have trouble conceiving a child later in their lives. Those that do have a higher risk of a stillbirth, miscarriage, or premature birth. Although, others are never able to conceive a child. It may not be common, but some women are so concerned with ending their pregnancy, that they don’t do all of their research or listen/read over the possible side effects of having the abortion done. All of this is bad in its own right, but psychological effects can be far worse than the physical ones.

Abortion is ending a life. You can ask soldiers or some police officers and they will most likely tell you that it had messed them up for a while. It’s the same with abortion. Most women, soon after they have an abortion, show signs of depression. I have a friend that knew a woman that had an abortion, she said she was never the same after that. I believe it, too. I can’t imagine what it was like for her to give up the baby she had growing inside of her. The guilt she must have gone through, can lead some people to end their lives.

The Bible says that from the moment a child is conceived, their life begins. However, most people don’t believe this, so I’ll put it like this: Even when someone’s mind is gone, doctors don’t say they are dead until their heart stops beating, and more often than not, an abortion is performed after the baby’s heart starts beating. You can hear the heartbeat at week 5 of the pregnancy. Therefore you are ending a life. The women that feel remorse and regret for getting an abortion recognize this fact. They recognize the fact that there was a life growing inside them, and they ended that life (or lives as the case may be). I know that there are people that just have an abortion, because they don’t want to raise a baby. Sadly, most people refuse to recognize that they can go through with the pregnancy and not raise the baby. They can put the baby up for adoption.

There are so many women in the world that are unable to have a child of their own. These women want to find one through adoption agencies. I understand that as the pregnancy progresses, the mom may get very attached and not want to give the baby up. She may think that she will never see her baby again, but she may be able to. Some adoption agencies will allow you to pick the people adopting your baby. If you choose to give your baby up for adoption, you can ask for visitation, photos, and updates. I know a couple that struggled for years to have a daughter and I have cousins that were in the same place that wondered if they should just adopt. Their are people looking at adoption, so abortion is not the only option.

Abortion is the act of ending the life of a baby, while in the womb. There are hundreds of cases from women that have said that they had problems with their reproductive health after they have an abortion, as well as, women who suffer from mental health problems. The Bible says that from the moment a child is conceived, their life begins, and even from a different religious perspective, abortions usually happen after the baby’s heart starts beating. Therefore, they die. Instead of abortion, women can still go through with the pregnancy and give their baby(ies) up for adoption, and maintain contact with their child. The only reasons abortion should be considered (or warranted) is to either to save the life of the mother or save the life of the baby. 

When we look at murderers, we see them as monsters. Doctors call the time of death when a heart stops beating; and abortions will stop the heartbeat of a baby in the womb. With this logic, aren’t those who have abortions, murderers? You hear ‘Black Lives Matter’, ‘Animals Have Rights Too’, but honestly how often do you hear, ‘The Fetus’ growing inside of women are people too.’ Doctors have proven that fetuses feel pain in utero just as much as they do outside. These babies are the world’s  future kids, teens, and adults. They will all have undeniable and unalienable rights (as most people will agree), so why are we trying to take these rights away from them? Don’t they have the right to live from the moment they are found to be coming into the world? I believe that the moment a baby is found to be coming into the world, they have all of the rights that I do.

[jjthebunbun]

Canis’ Route

I’ve gotten a few asks and been tagged in a few prompts that has to do with Canis’ route, so I decided to spend a TOOOOON of time on making one. 😂

BASICS:

Name: Canis De Mila

Age: 24 (Birthday: July 18th)

Height: 5′ 9″ (67 in.)

Familiar: N/A (Though he takes on Mercedes and Melchior as familiars later on in life.)

Favorite Food: Curried Goat

Favorite Drink: Blackberry Merlot

Favorite Flower: Golden Calla Lillies

Star Sign: ♋ Cancer

Appearance: Thin build, Pale Skin covered in Freckles, Curly dark brown hair that falls in front of bright gold eyes. Dresses in bright colors such as Pastel pink, sky blue, cloud white, and antique gold. Canis has bells sewn to his belts, hair ribbons, and on certain articles of clothing he wears when training animals. Canis wears sparse makeup. Golden eyeshadow, if he bothers to wear any at all-- golden nail polish, and very shiny lip gloss. In depth description here.

Personality: Adventurous, curious, compassionate, and a bit reckless. Canis rises to meet every challenge with courage and self-assurance. Regardless of what presents itself, Canis is rarely intimidated, and knows he can do anything he sets his mind to. He has a very bubbly and fun-loving demeanor, as well as a curious nature that often becomes reckless abandon if left unchecked. Canis is very self-aware and knows exactly who he is as a person--- a refreshing yet dangerous trait indeed.

If not The Fool my apprentice would be: The Moon

Keep Reading to see the entire route’s storyline!

Players be warned: Canis’ route will be polyamorous.

BACKSTORY:

Canis has lived in Vesuvia all his life. Though his family is from Nopal, he has never managed to leave the city in order to see them, as his parents worked tirelessly in the Vesuvian palace as animal trainers and behaviorists for the Count’s ever expanding menagerie. Though he has never traveled, Canis is still very knowledgeable and worldly thanks to his studies and unbridled curiosity.  When he turned 18 he, too, became a trainer for the menagerie, which is where he officially met Lucio and over the course of his service to the count, fell in love with him. Canis still works in the palace’s menagerie, caring for the animals that would have been all but abandoned since the count’s murder. Canis stays quietly separated from most people day-to-day, for fear that they may discover the secrets he’s tending.

ROUTE:

You meet Canis upon touring the grounds of the palace with Nadia when you first arrive. Canis tells you what his job is, and allows you to sit in on a training session he has with Mercedes and Melchior. Canis attempts to talk to you alone for a moment about the murder you’ve been sent to investigate, but Nadia urges you on. Before you part ways Canis offers you a dog whistle that specifically calls Mercedes and Melchior. Canis explains that he and the dogs are the only one who can hear it. If you should ever encounter any trouble, simply blow it and Canis, the dogs--- or all three will come running.

After choosing to pursue Canis, you get chased through the garden by Lucio’s ghost, and you think to use the whistle Canis provided you a few days earlier. Upon hearing the whistle the dogs are at your side in seconds. Growling at the ghost at first, before recognizing the spector and softening with happy barks and tail wags. Canis arrives soon after, and catches just a glimpse of Lucio’s ghost before it vanishes entirely. Canis offers to help you investigate the grounds, as he still remembers enough magic from when Asra taught him that he can protect you. You make your way to Lucio’s wing where Canis reveals that he and Lucio were romantically involved for some time before Lucio got sick. After Lucio died, nothing was quite the same. Canis feared that his relationship with Lucio would be looked down upon and that he would be unfairly treated now that Lucio was dead... Canis also explains that he knows Julian couldn’t have murdered Lucio, because he was with Julian when they discovered the count’s room was on fire.

You and Canis continue investigating the claims and evidence that would find Julian guilty in order to prove his innocence. At which point you end up in the Red Market where Canis delves into a gambling ring in hopes that the diverse crowd will have different angles and tips about what happened the night of the murder. You and Canis manage to pry vital information from one gambler in particular who claims he heard the courtiers planning to pin the murder on Julian. On your way out from the red market Canis is arrested by palace guards who had overheard Canis stating in the red market that he was with Julian on the night of the murder, thus making Canis an accomplice to murder. It is revealed that Julian has also been captured and they will now be tried and hanged together. You explain what you heard in the market to Nadia who agrees that Julian and Canis must be innocent, but needs a confession straight from the courtiers if that’s the case.

You visit Canis and Julian in the dungeon the morning of the trial. Canis nervously stares at the floor while Julian holds his hand and comforts him. Upon seeing you, Canis is visibly relieved that you’re alright. He explains that Julian doesn’t remember what happened on the night of the murder either, but he does remember that Julian died that night and thus learned about the count’s tie to the plague. It is then you discover the red plague was CAUSED by Lucio, like most every other tragedy in the city. Despite you and Canis warning Julian not to hang in order to rediscover the truth, he explains that Justice must come first this time, to the which Canis averts his eyes and looks forlorn. During the trial you prove Canis’ innocence due to the fact that none of the courtiers recalled that Canis was with Julian during the murder. You also call to the stand all of the courtiers at which point you fool Volta and Vlastomil into negating each others stories and proving that they’re not being truthful. It is at this point that YOU are held in contempt of court, and dismissed with Canis while preparations for Julian’s hanging are made.

You console Canis who finally confesses that he had been seeing Julian while Lucio was sick with the plague. It pains Canis to know that Julian had been convicted of murder simply because he and Canis met at the wrong place at the wrong time. Canis is also devastated that all the misery and pain caused by the plague was entirely Lucio’s fault. Canis begs you to help him exercise Lucio in order to ask him about what happened that night.

You and Canis sneak into Lucio’s wing in the dead of night and successfully exercise his ghost and trap him within a circle so he can’t flee or refuse to answer. Lucio is furious that he’s been tricked, but visibly relaxes upon seeing Canis. Canis seeks comfort in you while you inquire about Lucio’s murder, to the which Lucio explains that the plague was not his choice, that it was a nasty side effect of his ultimate goal, which was to become the devil himself. Canis furiously asks if Lucio regrets anything he’s put anyone through, and upon Lucio’s answer of “what is there to regret”, Canis closes the circle with a blaze of fire, which chases Lucio out entirely. After you manage to calm Canis down, he states that he fears whatever Lucio and the devil tried to do at the last masquerade they’ll attempt to do again at this masquerade.

You and Canis warn Nadia and Asra, who says Julian’s keeping a low profile at his sister Portia’s house until the masquerade is underway, to be sure he survives to help wrangle whatever nasty plan Lucio has for the evening.

Once the masquerade has begun you, Asra, and Canis hatch a plan to place you and Canis in the magician’s realm where you can inquire about the arcana and about the devil himself. However, on your way to the magician’s realm, something drags the both of you away from the magician’s realm and you are instead cast into the hanged man’s realm.

It is the hanged man instead of the magician who explains that the devil, unlike most arcana, seeks to hold control of the mortal realm. Lucio’s death had been the final stage in a ritual that was supposed to make Lucio the Devil, but since most of the Arcana was not at the ritual that was taking place, the spell failed and Lucio instead became a ghost. Interestingly enough, had Canis been at the ritual, it would have been just enough that the spell would have been successful. While exiting the hanged man’s realm in search of the magician’s, you ask Canis why he didn’t attend the ritual. Canis says he doesn’t remember. He only remembers being invited to a private party with Lucio, and running to find Julian with Muriel after hearing word that Julian was imprisoned in the dungeon.

Once more you try desperately to reach the Magician’s Realm, but the Devil himself stops you. The Devil calls into question your faith in Canis, and asks if Canis would abandon the people he had loved for years, why would he bother to be loyal and trustworthy to you. Canis all but clings to you and is clearly shaken to the core now that he believes his negligence is what has caused all of this chaos. The Devil splits the two of you apart and casts Canis asunder. He offers you a deal. Remain in the arcana realms until the masquerade’s end, and no harm shall come to Canis, Asra, Nadia-- everyone that you hold dear. Regardless of how you answer, the Devil strips your physical form from you and you watch through a scrying pool in horror as it enters reality in the form of Lucio, back from the dead, and in the flesh.

REVERSED:

Supposing you received the reversed ending, The Devil ultimately releases you, and the darkness around you shatters to reveal The Moon’s realm. You see Canis speaking with The Moon, and though you can’t hear what they’re saying, Canis’ voice sounds furious and desperate, and after a tense silence the Moon disappears in a shimmering light that encompasses Canis only briefly before vanishing entirely. Canis turns to see you and excitedly embraces you, crying and smiling, and thankful that you’re safe. You ask what happened and Canis feigns confusion and says that he doesn’t remember how he ended up in The Moon’s realm, but he was worried sick that the devil had captured or even hurt you.

You and Canis finally make it to the Magician’s realm where Asra and Julian await you. You recount your interaction with the Devil while Canis presses close to Julian and remains silent. It is in the Magician’s realm that you concoct a plan to pull the Devil back to his realm so that he once again cannot perform the ritual required for him to take control of reality.

Canis remains his chipper, usual self, though he stays close to you, and does his best to keep hold of you at all times. Upon asking Canis about it, he simply says that he’s worried that at any moment you could slip through his fingers again.

Once you, Canis, Asra, and Julian make it to the Devil’s realm, Lucio sits upon the dais of the Devil’s cathedral, having waited “patiently” for you to come stop his plan to merge with the devil. The four of you manage to subdue Lucio after minimal resistance, at which point Lucio desperately attempts to cover his tracks. You ultimately leave his judgement up to Canis. Canis, in turn, praises you for your decision to allow him to take control, and allows Lucio to apologize, grovel, and beg for forgiveness. Canis promises to offer Lucio forgiveness once the Devil has been stopped, and tethers Lucio to a pillar of the cathedral where he can’t interfere.

With Canis and Asra’s help, you manage to summon the devil back to his realm with a ritual similar to the one you and Canis used to summon Lucio’s Ghost. Once the Devil has been retrieved, he attempts to combat you and the others, but Canis silences the fighting by aloud offering the Devil two Arcana: The Moon and The Fool. The Devil hungrily sizes up the offer and when asked to present the Arcana, Canis pulls you forward into the ritual circle, and upon entering, the aura of the Fool can be seen within you, and the Aura of The Moon is now within Canis. As the Devil reaches forward to agree to the deal, Canis takes hold of his face instead of his hand, and explains that thanks to the moon’s sacrifice, Canis now knew how to take control of any Arcana. You realize now that the flash of light that encompassed Canis in The Moon’s realm was, in fact, The Moon being forced to merge entirely with Canis. The exact same thing happens to The Devil, but instead of a flash of bright light, there is an explosion of fire and Canis emerges, having taken control as the new Devil.

Lucio angrily fumes and barks that Canis would force him to apologize before doing exactly what Lucio wanted to do in the first place. Canis kisses Lucio once, and offers a hollow apology and the excuse that he could never bear to lose Lucio-- or anyone else ever again. Canis then turns Lucio to stone with the caress of a single claw before turning to face you. You, Asra, and Julian all shy away from him, which he answers with crocodile tears and frustration, explaining that he thought this would be for the best. No longer did he have to worry about losing the people he cared for most in the world, because now they could no longer be parted and Canis could no longer be blamed for the horrible things that happened because of his lovers. Asra attempts to help all three of you escape, but Canis has since chained all three of you to him, thus tethering you to his realm with him for all eternity.

This route ends with Asra simply being grateful that reality will no longer be lost to the Devil while Canis lavishes splendor and love on both you and Julian and promises to do so until the end of time.

UPRIGHT:

Supposing you received the upright ending, The Devil ultimately releases you, and the darkness around you shatters to reveal The Moon’s realm. You see Canis speaking with The Moon, and as you venture closer, you can hear their conversation. The Moon gives Canis back his memories of that night, at which point Canis exclaims that he remembers why he refused Lucio’s invitation to the ritual. Lucio had confided in Canis that he wanted to become the Devil and live forever. Canis was heartbroken that after all the time they spent together Canis’ only apparent use to Lucio would be to bring The Moon to the ritual so that he could become immortal. Canis wanted to be with Lucio more than anything... But he also didn’t want Lucio to become the devil and slowly become a monster. Instead Canis had fled the ritual, found Asra and Muriel and aided Muriel in rescuing Julian from the dungeons.

When Canis realizes you’re in The Moon’s realm, he excitedly rushes to you and holds onto you tightly, glad that the Devil didn’t attempt to hurt you. Canis also apologizes for refusing to look his problems in the eye and for being a bystander to the mess Lucio had created, simply because he was in love with him. Canis assures you that he knows he can’t hope to keep you, Julian, and even Lucio safe in all this, but he trusts that you know how to protect yourself.

You and Canis finally make it to the Magician’s realm with The Moon’s help. Asra and Julian await you and are excited to see that the both of you have made it out safe. You recount your interaction with the Devil while Canis apologizes to Julian and later apologizes to Asra for remaining so distant since the last masquerade. Both accept the apologies, and state that they’re just glad that Canis has you and is willing to rely on all of you instead of shouldering everything himself. It is in the Magician’s realm that you concoct a plan to pull the Devil back to his realm so that he once again cannot perform the ritual required for him to take control of reality.

Canis walks with purpose at your side, and frequently looks at you and smiles. When you ask him about it, he simply states that he can’t believe how lucky he is to have someone so amazingly courageous and kind as you.

Once you, Canis, Asra, and Julian make it to the Devil’s realm, Lucio sits upon the dais of the Devil’s cathedral, having waited “patiently” for you to come stop his plan to merge with the devil. The four of you manage to subdue Lucio after minimal resistance, at which point Lucio desperately attempts to cover his tracks. Canis begins to retort, but you stop him and remind him that Lucio wasn’t acting of his own accord by the time the plague hit Vesuvia, and that he may not deserve mercy, but he does deserve justice. You can choose to ask canis to forget or forgive Lucio: forgetting him means that you break Lucio’s chains, but Canis forces Lucio to abandon Vesuvia and live in exile. Forgiving him means you break his chains and Canis vows to bring Lucio to justice, but ultimately he is willing to make amends with lucio in due time.

With Canis and Asra’s help, you manage to summon the devil back to his realm with a ritual similar to the one you and Canis used to summon Lucio’s Ghost. Once the Devil has been retrieved, he attempts to combat you and the others. At one point the Devil calls Canis’ faith in himself into question for the second time, but instead of answering with doubt and tears, this time Canis smiles and replies that he simply trusts his loved ones, and that’s good enough for him. With Canis and Asra’s help, you hold the Devil in place in the ritual circle and turn The Devil to stone.

After the events of the masquerade, Canis and Asra have become good friends once more, Lucio was serving time for his actions, though was showing progress in becoming a better person having been freed from his chains, and Julian is arranging for an extended trip out of Vesuvia, since Canis hasn’t ever left the city, and you all could use a vacation after what happened at the masquerade.

This route ends with you, Canis, and Julian mounting horses and excitedly jetting off to the first destination on your journey into the future together.

SO. Would you play my Apprentice’s Route?

[roseskiesandbutterflies]

Killer Queen - Chapter 10: Dreamers Ball

Summary: Life is easy when things go your way. I know this from experience. I also know that that can disappear in an instant and that you have to be able to rely on your friends. Luckily my name is Arabella Ruth White and I’m the fifth marauder. But I want to show you the girl behind the mask. It takes a lot of work to be this fabulous, darling. (This story is also on Wattpad and AO3 of the same name.)

A/N: So, I recently binge-read all of Lore Olympus on Webtoons and if you haven’t read it, then I highly recommend it. It’s about the Greek Gods (mainly Persephone and Hades) but it deals with some mature themes just to warn you. The chapter title comes from Queen’s 1978 album, Jazz.

Warning(s): alcohol, drugs, swearing, implied sex

Word Count: 4.3k+ (this was one word off of being 4400 words so that’s annoying)

Inspiration: random headcanons I found on Tumblr and Pinterest, The Boy Who Killed God by SeraMGrigori on AO3, All The Young Dudes by MsKingBean89 on AO3, Sweet Things by Cocomouse on AO3

Taglist: @bhmay @briarrose26

Ask to be on my taglist!

Throwing a birthday ball might just have been my best idea thus far, if I did say so myself, and it hadn’t even started yet. I was gradually walking through the doors of the Great Hall, embracing my dramatic entrance for every little millisecond that it was worth. All eyes were on me, as they should be since it was my birthday and I bloody love attention, and suddenly I understood what brides must feel like when they walk down the aisle. The train of my sparkling golden gown trailed along behind me, leaving a stream of glitter in my wake. It had been both a style choice and a way to infuriate Filch when he had to clean it up. Have fun with that, you miserable bastard. The Great Hall was decorated from top to bottom in gold, gold streamers, gold glitter, gold balloons. It was akin to the Emerald City from The Wizard Of Oz but, well, gold. Anyone who was anyone was among the crowd watching me, providing they were at least a fifth year; I didn’t want little kids at my birthday party, thank you very much. The only ones I would even consider would be Rhea and Luke, but they weren’t at Hogwarts yet and right now, I was grateful for that. As far as I could see, everyone had a glass of amber-coloured liquid in their hand, which I assumed was butterbeer for the far majority of people in the hall. Some minuscule part of me wanted to squirm under all of the attention, but I suppressed it as best as I could. I had a reputation to keep up, after all.

You may be wondering how on earth I got access to the Great Hall for my birthday party, and honestly, I can’t blame you for pondering such a thing. It had been a complete stroke of luck which had come in the form of good old Minnie McGee. I’d been explaining my plan for the ball to the lads during one breakfast back in September, yes my plans for it have been in the works for that long what are you going to do about it, and Minnie had overhead while she was walking past our usual spot. I’m quite sure she has some kind of hearing superpower, even though that particular sense should be decaying with her old age rather than growing. And just in case you’ve somehow found this, naturally, I mean no offence, Minerva, so please don’t give me another detention I really don’t want one please and thank you. She’d then gone on to offer the Great Hall for the party but with three conditions. One, she could go and bring Dumbledore as her ‘date’, two, we served nothing stronger than butterbeer and three, we actually worked hard for our OWLs which were just around the corner. Initially, we all thought that she was joking but it turned out that she was deadly serious (naturally Sirius had interrupted her with his classic pun) and that she was, in fact, rather looking forward to going to a party for the first time in a while. James had then asked if she was on drugs, because quite frankly this was one of the nicest things she had ever done for us, and she came very close to whacking him upside the head for even suggesting such a thing. But she never actually denied it, so I still secretly think she does weed. I don’t know about you, but I can most certainly see it.

Now, as you’d expect, I was rather disappointed at Minnie’s suggestion of a near total absence of alcohol, but it hadn’t been long before Sirius, always searching for an excuse to drink to the point where I often wondered if he was addicted, had suggested something quite marvellous: an afterparty. Such a seemingly straightforward idea quickly turned into something so much more. We decided to hold it later on in the night in the Room of Requirement, and only the elite people knew about it and, subsequently, invited. And by ‘elite’, I mean the male specimens I call friends, the females who I love and cherish and a couple of other people. And that was bound to be very much alcohol-fuelled. As long as I had that to look forward to, I could endure a much more age-appropriate evening, just not for too long.

Finally, I reached the platform where the teachers would usually sit during meals, and bear in mind that I had been milking the moment for way longer than necessary, so this did take some time. I cleared my throat for effect before speaking in an impossibly posh voice, “Thank you all for attending my ball this evening. I won’t talk for too long because I would hate to bore you to tears, I’ll leave that job to Professor Binns. Now, Minnie, don’t look at me like that, we all know it’s true. Look, even Dumbledore agrees with me and you can’t argue with Dumbledore. Moving on, I would like to say a couple of things so entertain me for a moment. One, if any of you are caught drinking anything stronger than butterbeer, then I will happily leave you to face the wrath of our dear Minerva on your own, I have no intention of arguing with any teacher tonight.” A few giggles rippled throughout the crowd as well as a few pouty faces from people who were doing a shockingly awful job at hiding mini bottles of firewhiskey behind their backs. It wasn’t my problem, I did say this on the invites I sent out, if they chose to go against that then they would deal with the consequences, not me. I continued, “Two, I hope you all enjoy yourselves tonight and remember, it ends at precisely eleven o’clock, which means don’t hang around. Frank and Alice, I’m looking at you.” The couple in question blushed furiously and Alice gave me a death stare that could rival the one I get from Remus when I gather enough courage to steal some of his chocolate. I then clapped twice to signal the official start of the ball and music began to blast from the speakers I’d linked up to my record player which was enchanted to start playing a record whenever I clapped my hands.

It took a second, but people were soon dancing and mingling and doing whatever else people do at parties. I made a beeline straight for the boys but ignored their greetings, instead, I grabbed two, I wasn’t sure which ones, and, hoping that they were all following if they weren’t being dragged, marched over to the drinks table. I let go of whoever I had been holding to pour myself a much-needed butterbeer, but in a wine glass because I’m classy like that, leaving two boys to rub their arms in pain.

“Bloody hell, Ruth, you could have just asked us to come with you, that really wasn’t necessary,” Remus muttered as he got his own drink.

“Why is your grip that damn strong?” James pouted, whining like the little child that he is.

Sirius just smirked evilly, “I think we all know where she gets her practice with her grip.”

Naturally, I wasn’t going to have that, so I swatted him on the arm as if he was a fly, but then I decided that that just wasn’t enough, so I kicked him in the shin. Not too hard because I was feeling nice for some strange reason, but you get the idea. He then howled suspiciously like a dog, causing us all to give him strange looks that pretty much read dude what the fuck.

Sirius, then desperate to change the subject to literally anything else, went on to ask, “Ruth, are Snivellus and his mates supposed to be here? Because I don’t have a problem with physically throwing them out,” he shrugged.

I sighed, knowing my response wasn’t going to be immensely popular amongst the group. I muttered quietly, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes, “I invited them.” As expected, I was met with outcries and protests from the cloud of testosterone surrounding me, such as but they’re such pricks and why would you want to infect your own party with the human equivalent of the goddamn plague, so I was quick to defend myself, “I didn’t want to! It’s just that Lily said that she wouldn’t go if I didn’t at least give Snivellus the option. But then I worried that he’d hang around Lily the whole time, and I wasn’t going to allow that, so I invited a couple of his friends too. I didn’t think they’d actually show up though,” I peered over Peter’s shoulder to observe him talking to Lily, grimacing at his choice of outfit if you could even call that monstrosity an outfit. I’d specified in the invites that you had to wear muggle ballgown-wear and you had to make it yourself using magic. I guess blood supremacists don’t even want to wear muggle-style clothes these days. They really are that shallow and it surprised me how Lily couldn’t see that.

Sirius huffed and made a comment that sounded like it should have come from James’s mouth instead of his, “Fine, but only because Lily is a treasure and I’m also terrified to death of her.” When he was met with blank stares for the second time in five minutes, he blushed furiously, only just clocking what he had just revealed.

I smirked at him, “Since when were you such good friends with my dear Lily?”

It was just a widely accepted fact that the girls weren’t huge fans of the boys, and while those attitudes weren’t reciprocated by the other side, it was practically unheard of for the girls to be anything more than civil with the boys. Well, only if you don’t count Lily and Remus’s strange friendship. I’d often promoted a union of sorts between my two friendship groups, holding out in my firm belief that some epic bonds could be formed if they just tried, but I was usually shot down with objections of but they’re arrogant toe rags. I think that that’s complete and utter bullshit but each to their own, I guess. I just carried on in the hope that one day they’d come round and see how silly they were being.

While James was appearing to have a mental breakdown right there and then, Sirius slowly explained, “Since a couple of weeks ago? I went down to the common room because I couldn’t sleep and I found Lily and she looked quite upset, so I asked her what was wrong, thinking she would just tell me to piss off or something, but she just burst into tears and she told me a lot of stuff that I won’t tell you because I think it’s private. Anyway, long story short, we had a rather profound conversation at two in the morning, followed by a couple of games of chess because neither of us wanted to go back to bed. We’ve had some rather thought-provoking conversations in Charms because we sit next to each other this year. She’s actually really cool.”

I grinned broadly at him, “This is what I’ve been trying to tell you for four whole years!” We then high-fived because why the fuck not. Remus gave us a look of wholehearted betrayal, which is understandable because he had been assisting me in my quest to get them to appreciate Lily properly, so I gave him a high-five too, and so did Sirius. Then Peter and James high-fived for no reason other than they were feeling left out, as they should be. So, we all looked like fucking crackheads already but that was to be expected of us.

“Anyway, just because Sniv is allowed to be here, doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to fight him the second he does something fucked up, right?” Sirius asked.

“You and I both know you’ll fuck him up regardless of whether I allow it or not, so yes, yes you can. In fact, please do.”

***************

By around midnight we were drunk off our asses in the Room of Requirement, the civilisation of the ball long gone. It was total carnage, although you probably worked that one out for yourself, but it wasn’t all bad seeing as my two friend groups don’t try to murder each other every five seconds when under the influence of my lovely friend alcohol. Most of us were sprawled out on various sofas, still in our ball attire, with Hunky Dory playing on my record player at a much lower volume because our drunk asses couldn’t deal with too much noise. I was lying on a sofa with my head in Marlene’s lap and my feet in Dorcas’s while James and Peter shared a sofa. Alice and Frank were, as I had predicted earlier on, making out in some darkened corner, thinking that they were being subtle because no one was gawping at them. In reality, the only reason we all refused to look was because they were being more than a bit gross and no one wanted to see that, to be frank. Pun absolutely intended. Dorcas didn’t drink because of her religion, which meant she was the only sober one in the room, and that meant it was her job to make sure we didn’t get ourselves killed or anything like that. Lily was actually a bit tipsy, but only due to Sirius’s incessant nagging that she was missing out on the finer things in life. I mean there were certainly finer things than knock-off elf wine we smuggled in from Hogsmeade, but Lily didn’t need to know that. Meanwhile, Sirius was stumbling on a table he’d conjured for this exact reason, wearing Marlene’s stiletto heels and ranting about society’s many problems as he usually did when drunk. Tonight’s topic was for discussion was feminism.

“But why is the world like this? We shouldn’t just accept it for how it is! Shouldn’t we try and change it or something?” he slurred, finishing his drink and promptly refilling it with his wand. Several amens could be heard from almost everyone in the room, as is what happened every time Sirius made a point. It was strongly reminiscent of the church service my mum would drag me along to from time to time.

“Sirius, not that I don’t agree with you, but maybe you should get down before you break your neck?” Lily suggested, looking at him in sheer terror.

He just pouted down at her, “I will only get down when the patriarchy falls, and you girls don’t have to live in fear of boys who have the audacity to call themselves men!”

“If a boy comes anywhere near me, I’ll just smack him round the face, I don’t give a shit,” I piped up, swinging my hand around as if I was actually punching someone, and coming very close to actually hitting Marlene in the face.

“That’s alright though because self-defence and shit,” James grinned at me, running over to clink his glass against mine, then running back to his sofa and sitting down as if nothing happened, leaving me confused, to say the least.

“Has anyone seen Remus?” Sirius suddenly changed the subject. When all he got in response was shrugs and confused looks, he started walking up and down the table like it was a catwalk, shouting, “Remus! Remus, where are you, you little shit? Remu-” he suddenly fell straight off of the table but stood up and brushed himself off as if he hadn’t just nearly died, “Reeeeeeemuuuuuuuus!”

“I think he’s with Idania. I don’t know where though,” Peter offered.

Marlene and I gave each other a knowing look and bumped arms, “I think we all know what they’re getting up to,” she raised an eyebrow at me suggestively.

“Ooooooh, Remus you saucy boy,” I snorted, making James cackle so much that he fell off of his chair and also making Lily fake-vomit so much that I was seriously expecting her to actually throw up right there and then.

I think it’s important to update you on the whole Idania-Remus situation. It’s been a tricky one, I won’t lie to you about that. They only started talking again a couple of days ago, making it nearly three weeks of silent treatment from both parties. Even I thought that that was a bit much, and we all know that I can be a dramatic little shit at the best of times. After copious amounts of persuasion from us, way more than would have been necessary if he wasn’t a stubborn bastard, a rather miserable Remus had finally apologised for some things he’d said in the heat of the argument that he hadn’t really meant. He didn’t disclose exactly what he’d said, but I have to be honest, I was just glad that he got over himself and talked to her because it was painful to sit behind them in History of Magic while they were being that damn ridiculous. Not only had he said that he was sorry, but he’d wanted to do something for her to show her how sorry he was. He’d done some research, which meant he’d spent twelve hours straight in the library. James, forever the mother hen of the group, was far from pleased to find out that he’d missed two whole meals, so naturally, that had led to him lecturing poor Remus on the importance of eating properly. He argued that that it doesn’t matter that it’s for love, you need to eat, for Merlin’s sake, which was saying something when you remember how James was a closeted romantic himself. He’d eventually found a spell that was a variant on the translation spells Peter was rather fond of for uncomplicated pranks. Usually with those spells, you speak whatever you mean to say in English, but when it comes out, everyone hears the language you’re cursed to speak. This one, however, worked with sign language; he would say what he wanted to say, and his hands would automatically sign what he’s saying. It didn’t solve everything, he still had to keep studying the language so he could understand Idania, but it was a sure start, and a massive help for the both of them. According to Remus when he’d returned to tell us how it went, she’d been so grateful that she’d almost started crying, though she denied it every time we asked her about it.

While I had been simultaneously amusing and horrifying my friends with mental images of Remus doing unholy things, Sirius had been on a mission to find him, and seemed to have returned triumphant. At some point, he must have left the room even though I had no memory of seeing him leave, as he was now dragging Remus behind him by the hand, who was dragging Idania somewhat gentler. “I found them!” he proclaimed with a stupid grin on his face, in a way similar to how a child would announce such a thing.

“Yeah, no shit Sherlock,” Peter muttered with no actual malice behind his words.

“You’re welcome, Pete,” Sirius bowed but then stumbled forwards, crashing headfirst onto the ground. He didn’t bother getting up, choosing to sit cross-legged on the floor once he got his bearings.

Lily plonked herself down next to him and gazed at him quizzically, “Why are you saying, ‘you’re welcome’, when you’re the one who wanted to know where they were?”

He covered her mouth with his hand to prevent her from speaking, “Shhh, Lily-flower, shhh.”

She scowled at him while Marlene mouthed ‘Lily-flower’ at me in confusion. I just shrugged, desperately trying not to laugh at James who was clearly dying of embarrassment while trying to hide from Lily. We once heard him murmur the nickname in his sleep during our second year, and even though he hasn’t said it since, we refused to let him forget it. Lily must have licked Sirius’s hand or something for he retracted his hand as quickly as he would if he’d had an electric shock, wiping it on his trousers while staring at her in disgust and betrayal. Lily didn’t show an inch of sympathy towards his pain.

“So, what were you two actually doing?” Dorcas asked, directing the conversation back to Idania and Remus.

Idania smirked evilly and looked up at Remus, looking awfully glad that she didn’t have to be the one to explain. I still thought they hooked up finally, but Remus didn’t look nearly as mortified as I imagined he would.

Remus opened his mouth to speak but Lily cut him off, “I can smell weed.”

“How the fuck do you of all people know what weed smells like?” I laughed.

She glared at me in a way that had me quaking in my heels, “Please, you know what Cokeworth’s like, so you can trust me when I say I know what weed smells like.” I had to give it to her, that town wasn’t exactly the poshest in the UK, and I would know seeing as I used to live in the damn place.

We locked eyes for a second, then slowly looked up at Remus and Idania’s slightly guilty but overall chilled-out faces.

Well shit.

Once it clicked in my head as to what they had been doing, I started giggling uncontrollably for a good minute, and everyone else started looking at me really worriedly. I can’t say I blamed them if I’m honest, I did look like something of a lunatic. I quickly put the spell that Remus had found on myself, suddenly feeling really bad that Idania probably didn’t have much of an idea of what had just been said.

“Idania, how dare you corrupt our sweet, innocent Remus?” I laughed, shaking my head like a disapproving parent.

“Excuse you, Remus hasn’t been innocent since before he met us,” James grinned lopsidedly.

“I wasn’t that innocent before I met you,” the boy in question tried to defend himself, only to be met with about seven people saying, ‘you were’.

“Anyway, that’s beside the point. The point is you smoked weed?” I asked incredulously.

“Don’t look at me like that!” he said, “It’s not that big of a deal, no one really cares about that kind of thing these days, well not in the muggle world at least. Live a little, Ruth.”

“That doesn’t make it any less weird that it’s coming from you, mate,” James shook his head.

“But here’s the question nobody else is brave enough to ask, apparently,” Marlene raised a finger and then pointed it at the couple, “Is it nice? And if so, may we have some?”

Most of us, excluding Dorcas and Lily, made some sort of noise of agreement to which Remus just laughed, “Well, it’s Idania’s, not mine, so it’s up to her really…” he trailed off, leaving his girlfriend to make up her mind.

I didn’t actually know much sign language, except for the odd word or phrase I’d picked up (naturally fuck off was on of them), but whatever Idania had signed in response put a devilish smirk on Remus’s face that was all too familiar, “I think that’s a yes, just not too much. Ida doesn’t think you’ll be able to handle it.” The girl in question lightly breathed through her nose, which I’d come to learn was her laugh.

I gaped at her with mock outrage on my face, “I am offended but at least I’ll get to try some, right?”

A couple of blunts went round during the next however long we were high for, while Lily and, to some extent, Dorcas looked on disapprovingly. I think it’s safe to say that the concept of time was non-existent for the rest of the night. I have to say it was one of the most relaxing yet insane experiences I’ve ever had, and it wasn’t long until long after it had worn off did I start to wonder how Idania had access to that kind of thing. She must have been even more of a badass than we first thought.

When I had first started holding parties like these last year, I had made an offer to Dorcas which had involved me making drinks that had no alcohol in them but still had the same effect. She’d been grateful for the suggestion, but she’d pointed out that doing that kind of defeats the whole point of not drinking alcohol in the first place. We’d then settled on making non-alcoholic drinks that still tasted like their alcoholic counterparts but had no effect whatsoever, and we were constantly trying different recipes. Word caught soon after we started, and our non-alcoholic drinks were in almost as high demand as the alcoholic black market I’d created with the boys. They proved to be popular among students who either didn’t want to or weren’t allowed to drink, but didn’t want to miss out on a party or something like that, as well as older students who needed a form of stress relief from their exams, but didn’t want to develop some kind of addiction. I couldn’t blame them, seeing as they used to drink a lot as a really unhealthy coping mechanism. I’d much rather they drink something else, so I was glad to have been of service. As you can imagine, the business really boomed around springtime.

“You know, trying to keep track of you all is like herding a load of cats,” she huffed, taking a sip of her not-quite-firewhiskey.

“Hey, Dorcas,” I mumbled in the most serious voice I could muster, which was quite the feat considering I was both drunk and high at that point. She leaned in to listen, only to hear me say, “Meow.”

Her brows furrowed sceptically, “Meow?”

I nodded, not breaking my composure though I desperately wanted to just dissolve into giggles like a child, “Meow. Because you said we’re cats.”

Dorcas sighed with a resigned look on her face,” Sure, Ari.”

A chorus of meows sounded throughout the room, much to Dorcas’s confusion and exasperation. I could only imagine what it must be like to have to deal with all of us unaided when we were like this.

A/N: By the way, I’m not trying to promote the use of drugs, personally I think things like marijuana should be decriminalised but that’s a story for another day. Just to remind you, this is set in 1975 at the moment, which means that drugs were more common, and more people did things like weed. It makes more sense when you consider the context. Also, they’re only human, shit like this happens.

[hobiorbit]

3′s a crowd III (m.)

relationship: kim namjoon x reader, kim namjoon x jeon jungkook warnings: angst, cheating, emotional and physical infidelity, consenseual infidelity, polyamory/open relationships (done wrong, of course) summary: in which it hurts too much to let namjoon go, so you let him ruin you slowly.

Your mood had hardly gotten better as both Jungkook and Namjoon had become settled into your new relationship. At first, Namjoon kept to his promises- taking you out on multiple enjoyable dates, constantly showering you in compliments and affection, having someone deliver flowers and chocolates to you at work with an attached card saying “Just because.”

In those moments it was easy to forget the chaos that seemed to envelop you, and you could convince yourself, briefly, that nothing had ever change.

Except, usually, something would always snap you out of your daydream. Like the time you and Namjoon had gone to the movies, only for Namjoon to have to leave the theater for a couple minutes because Jungkook wouldn’t stop texting you.

Or the time Namjoon had finally agreed to take you to the new art museum, only for Jungkook to bud in and tell Namjoon that they already had plans to go. Namjoon seemed to have forgot how much you were anticipating the museum’s grand opening. Silently, he gave you a sad smile and said he’d take you another time.

Instead of waiting around, you asked Yoongi to take you. You had fun.

Yoongi had even taken you out to lunch afterward, commenting that you seemed the happiest you were in a while. You slyly commented that it was thanks to your best friend, who was stuffing his face with large bites of his specialty sandwich. He rolled his eyes, but the red tint on his ears told you that you had him flustered.

Even when things went sour, you’d always managed to find a way to feel better. Whether it was through Yoongi, or a spa day, or even a pastry from your favorite bakery, you managed yourself as well as you could.

Today, however, a line had been crossed, and it had you questioning all of your recent judgement.

“Joon, where are you? I thought we had plans today.” You said irritably over the phone, hoping the incessant tapping of your foot against the kitchen’s linoleum flooring couldn’t be picked up over the line. You heard Namjoon suck some air in, a sign that he knew whatever he was going to say would either anger you or make you sad.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but some business stuff came up and long story short, Jin hyung and I have to stay the night in Gangnam tonight. Is there anyway we can reschedule? The restaurant will still be there when I get back.” Namjoon informed you.

Your eyes hardened with the realization that Namjoon had completely forgot what the date was, judging by the calmness of his tone. Of course, work always came first- but more than that, Namjoon would have at least greeted you. You figured he would’ve at dinner, but it seemed he just thought tonight’s events were just supposed to be the contracted dates nights he’d promised you.

“I understand, Joon. ‘S not like it’s my birthday or anything, tell Seokjin I said hi.” You said softly, calmly. Part of you wondered if Namjoon could have even heard your quiet words, but judging by the noise of surprise you heard him make before you hung up the phone told you otherwise.

-

You spent the next couple of hours glaring at your phone every time it lit up, showing another missed call or text from your boyfriend. They ended up subsiding around evening time, telling you he either gave up or had gone into a meeting for work.

Nothing could help you in this moment. You felt completely embarrassed and pathetic, wondering how insignificant you could possibly be to have your own boyfriend forget about your birthday. Your family had texted you, telling you that they missed you and that they hoped Namjoon got you a good present as he always did.

Even Yoongi texted you, despite being bedridden from a bad case of late season flu, telling you in between his harrowing headaches and tough trips to his bathroom to empty his stomach, that he loved you and he promised to take you out one on one as soon as he felt better.

As sad as it was, you didn’t even care that Yoongi was sick. You wanted nothing more than to go over to his house and lay with him, taking care of him while he consoled you about your situation. You hadn’t even told him about the day’s events, and you were sure he was convinced you were currently having the night of your life instead of sitting at home huddled on the couch, tears still managing to escape your eyes.

It was so, so cliche, and it made your stomach churn. Just once, you’d like some common sense to be whacked into you, to have the strength and security to tell yourself that your situation was neither normal or beneficial. Pain had become a side effect of existing.

Soon, the weather turned sour just as your mood did, rain flooding the streets quickly and aggressively. The news was on the TV in front of you, urging anyone who was out to get to the quickest safe place they could in order to avoid any injury or wreck.

The harsh pattern of the rain falling against your window was calming enough to help your eyes droop, helped by the hot mug of tea in your hands. You continued to stare at the TV but you weren’t listening, opting to replay every event that had happened ever since you found our Namjoon cheated on you. Every waking moment, this is what you would return you, a thought that seemed to forever plague your mind.

You had almost fallen asleep until you felt something hovering over you, causing you to open your eyes and jerk your body in response to whatever threat had presented itself to you. Jungkook’s wide eyes stared down at you, wet tendrils of his hair dropping onto your skin and your clothes.

Observing the rest of his appearance, he seemed to be dressed in casual clothes, although they were pretty much drenched due to the outside weather.

“Namjoon isn’t home.” You muttered, not willing to look into his eyes. You were sure you looked absolutely horrendous, with your tear stained face and less than immaculate hair.

“I know,” Jungkook said simply, shrugging his shirt off without a care in the world. “The weather was too bad for me to get back to my place. Are you crying.” He asked curiously, sitting on the couch adjacent to you and leaning closer to study you, which had you cringing and scrambling to scoot farther back.

“N-No.” You stuttered a complete giveaway, if your appearance wasn’t enough already. Jungkook frowned, and for a moment you could see pity cloud in his eyes.

“Lying is bad for you,” Jungkook said softly, tilting his head to the side. You bit your cheek, not willing yourself to respond.

“I know it’s kind of weird, but you can tell me. It’s bad to keep things all bottled up. I know you’re hurting, and I know a lot of it is my fault.” Jungkook said, almost shyly. Even though he’d been the cause for what seemed like all of your pain, he still managed to be completely charming, almost forcing you to respond.

“You’re right,” You murmured, causing him to look at you curiously. “You are the source of what seems like all of my problems.” You said matter of factly, taking a small amount of joy in the way his expression reflected in hurt.

“Namjoon forgot it’s my birthday today, and my only friend is home, sick. Every time I remind myself I have something to be happy about, something or someone ruins it and I’m left at square one, wondering why is it that I’m so pathetic I can’t even leave a one sided relationship. Namjoon takes me out because he feels like he has to, and the only thing that gets him through the night as the fact that he’ll get to return to you. I’m so unwanted and I can’t subtract myself from the equation because i keep trying to convince myself that nothing has changed, and that he’s still in love with me.” By the time you were done you were short of breath, a new stream of tears cascading down your cheeks.

Jungkook looked at you, face showing a palette of emotions- guilt, sadness, pity, shock. All morphed into one, and he still managed to look beautiful, eyes bright and shining.

He stayed silent for a moment, before bowing his head. “I’m sorry, Y/N.” Jungkook told you, voice genuine and steady. It surprised you, wondering how the man in front of you could go from doing everything in his power to make you feel small before regretting it from a sad monologue of yours.

“I don’t know why- I guess I was just jealous, which I didn't have a right to be. I hated that you found Namjoon first, that I couldn’t have what I wanted. I encouraged him from the start, and every single time he felt horrible, wishing he didn’t do it to you. It made me start to hate the idea of you, the one who had gotten my love before me. And when I saw you, everything got worse because you really are a perfect girl, deserving of everything you had, and it pushed me to make you feel just an ounce of what I felt, even though I had no right.” He explained. Jungkook’s words didn’t make you feel better, offering clarity instead of comfort.

He ruined you because he wanted what you had, for no particular reason. And you couldn’t even find it within yourself to get mad at him because he too had fallen in love with Namjoon, began to feel what Namjoon had made you feel for years prior.

“I can’t forgive you. I can’t forgive Namjoon either.” You whispered, almost guilty for your stance on the situation. You didn’t miss how Jungkook’s shoulders sagged at your words.

“And you shouldn’t, even if it hurts to say. For the record- Namjoon loves you so much, even if he’s an idiot about it. When we’re alone he relates everything to you, talks about your cute habits, anything. Even if he’s not treating you the way you deserve, the feelings are still there.” Jungkook said. You bit your lip. It hurt that Jungkook was so ready to admit Namjoon was still in love with you, as if it meant anything.

You were a constant for him. A memento of when you two were happy, when you were enough for him. “He doesn’t love me. He loves the thought of me.” You said tiredly, getting up from the couch and wrapping your plush throw blanket around your shoulders.

“Goodnight, Jungkook.” You said without looking back, sulking down the hallway. He looked down at his wet T shirt he discarded next to him as he responded. “Goodnight, Y/N. Happy birthday.”

-

“Does Namjoon know?” Yoongi asked you immediately after you filled him in on your relationship troubles. He still ran a fever, but in his words he was feeling much better than he had been, so you deemed it okay to come over. You’d even brought his favorite soup.

You shook your head solemnly. “I haven’t spoken to him. He returned a few days ago and I’ve just been ignoring him. I feel bad but it just feels like I don’t have the energy to deal with it right now. He’s been sleeping in the guest bedroom no matter if Jungkook is there or not, and I feel bad because I hear him cry sometimes.” You stated sadly, lips forming a pout in guilt. Yoongi shook his head, swallowing some soup as he observed you from his spot on the bed.

“He’s crying because he realized he’s been nothing but a cunt to you for the past couple of months. You shouldn’t take responsibility for his bad decisions, Y/N. As for not talking to him… You know what I’m going to say.” Yoongi told you.

“That the only reason I should talk to him is to break up with him?” You asked, watching as Yoongi nodded and looked at you with an expression that said ‘Well what else are you supposed to do?’

You sighed. “There’s more to it than that, Yoon. I still love him even though I currently hate him, and if I leave I’ll have nowhere to go. Our apartment is his.” You stated. Abandoning his soup in favor of offering you some comfort, Yoongi reached his hand out to wrap it around yours.

“You know I’d never turn my back on you, cherry. You’re always welcome here, and it’s not like we don’t have room. Hoseok loves you and understands completely, every time I mention you he talks about how he wants to beat some sense into Namjoon.” Yoongi said, making you giggle at the thought.

“Hoseok could barely talk some sense into someone, let alone lay a hand on them. And Yoongi, I already put so much pressure on your already, with you being my unofficial relationship counsellor slash best friend.”

Yoongi grunted. “I don’t think you understand that I don’t care what I am to you as long as you’re happy. And you’re not happy right now, Y/N. I can see it, you’re only staying because you’re afraid and because you hate being a bother. I’m telling you right now, cherry: You will never be a burden to me.” His thumb was now rubbing soothing circles on your knuckles.

“I love you, Yoongi.” You said tearily, bringing your free hand to wipe the moisture from the corners of your eyes. Yoongi’s smile turned melancholic.

“I love you too, Y/N. More than you know,” He paused and retracted his hand, shoving some more soup into his mouth before it got cold. “Does that mean you’ll break up with him?” Yoongi asked, hoping he didn’t sound as hopeful as he thought he did.

You sighed and nodded your head slowly. “I will attempt to break up with him. You’re right, you know. And I hate admitting that.” You smiled, flopping down on his bed causing him to groan. “No sudden movements, my stomach isn’t what it used to be.” He scolded.

“And of course I’m right. Hoseok- quit eavesdropping!” Yoongi grunted loudly, turning his gaze to the door where Hoseok shyly peeked from around the corner, his smile getting larger with each passing second.

“Sorry…” He said before spinning in a circle, happily. “Y/N’s gonna move in!” He said excitedly. Yoongi rolled his eyes as you smiled at the other man, feeling happy that at least someone wanted you around.

“What, am I not good enough for you now?” Yoongi feigned disappointment as Hoseok shot him a knowing look. “You of all people should know your importance to me.” Hoseok stuck his tongue out, before turning to look at you, smile wide and eyes shining.

“And you’re important to me too, young lady!” Hoseok pointed before walking down the hallway, giggling as Yoongi threw a pillow at his retreating form. “Sorry ‘bout that.” Yoongi told you, referencing to Hoseok listening in on your conversation. You shrugged your shoulders.

“I don’t mind. It’s a change in pace, someone anticipating my arrival instead of dreading it.” You said simply. Yoongi frowned but you weren’t looking at him.

“Better get used to being anticipated, honey.” Yoongi told you definitively, an unspoken promise. He’d be there for you, getting you up when you fell down, teaching you each and every day that you were someone to be treasured.

And he had no qualms about it.

[thegoldendice]

Love Is A Battlefield

Fandom - American Horror Story 1984

Pairing - Xavier Plympton/Reader

Rating - Explicit

Warnings - Suicide, Violence, Mental Heath Issues, Sexual Content, Language, Religious Content

Chapter - 9/12

Read on - ao3, ff.net

Fic Summary - The year is 1984. You're a poor student living alone in L.A., plagued by your problematic relationships with a false friend and a disturbed ex. You meet Xavier Plympton, an aerobics instructor with a dark past, at the gym where you’ve taken a reception job. You quickly develop feelings for him, and you learn to your relief that he likes you too. Soon a deadly series of events befall you and the people in your life. Overwhelmed by tragedy and with your blossoming romance cut short, you are left a wreck. Six years later you discover that while Xavier is dead, he hasn’t quite departed. You soon realise that if you are to be with him and finally achieve true peace and happiness, you must take your own life and become a Camp Redwood ghost.

Chapter Summary -  Ray hears of your decision to stay at Redwood and feels compelled to change your mind on spiritual grounds. 

You watch as specs of dust dance and swirl around each other within the slice of afternoon sunlight that enters through the cabin window. You feel at peace now that Xavier has come to accept your decision. He lies beside you, eyes closed but not asleep. He can't sleep in fact, however, he has been able to learn how to shut everything out, to gain an emptiness of mind that imitates slumber. It's the closest thing you will have to actual unconsciousness after your change. That is, once you have learned the technique as well. There will of course be other things to get used to, such as the loss of time. According to Xavier minutes, hours, and days will continue to pass in the outside world, but you will cease to be aware of their passing. The only change you will be aware of day-to-day is the weather, but temperature won't affect you. Should you wish to, you will be able to run around naked on a wet winter day. You will no longer feel hungry or crave nourishment of the edible kind.

You feel a little sad at the thought of the simple, human things you will lose. You try to remind yourself that you will have all the time in the world to grieve those losses, and Xavier will help you. As for personal relationships – you have none to mourn. You have a mother, but no father to speak of. Memories of a series of substitute dads ranging from lacklustre to downright maniacal arise. You will be glad to never think of any of them ever again. Your mom won't miss you. She spent the majority of the last six years attempting to have you institutionalised. You plan to write her a letter and post it when you leave the camp to get the supplies you will need to end your life. You will tell her you've gone travelling. She'll never find out what happened to you. Your brother, a self confessed waste of space, has been absent for years.

Xavier stirs at your side. You turn to look at him, taking in his dishevelled appearance. You spent the last few hours exploring each other's bodies, revelling in mutual joy and passion. You are continuing to realise how lucky you are, not only to have met someone you are so emotionally and physically compatible with but to have been given the chance to remain with them even in death. Darkness has tarnished both of your lives, casting an ever-present shadow over your existences, but because of this, you have a deep understanding of each other's personal trauma. You lean in to kiss his forehead and are rewarded with a soft, sweet smile. He keeps his eyes closed, but breathes a deep sigh of satisfaction. Breathing is the one thing Xavier hasn't been able to let go of yet. You suspect you will try to hold on to it as well, a small reminder that you were once a living thing.

You are about to close your eyes to try and drift off when a knock comes at the front door, shattering your peaceful bubble. You see and feel Xavier’s muscles tense.

“Who's there?” he calls out.

“It's Ray. I need to talk to Y/n.”

You look at Xavier, feeling suddenly confused. “Why the hell would Ray want to talk to me? I don't think he ever said a single word to me back in L.A.”

“I think I might know. Ray hates it here, he always has. He has it in his head that we're all damned. The idiot probably wants to try to convince you to leave.”

“Montana couldn't.” You shrug, highly doubting Ray's ability to change your mind.

“Sure, but she's super laid back these days. Ray probably thinks he can nag you all the way to the fucking entrance sign. Honestly, Y/n, he will try.”

With that, Xavier hauls himself out of bed. He gets dressed and tosses your clothes towards you. You loathe the thought of having to see another person in your current state. Your hair is all over the place and you seriously need a shower. You kick yourself for leaving your car parked halfway up the road to the camp, thinking about the wet wipes you keep in the glovebox. For some reason, rather than drive all the way here, you had the urge to ditch the car just off the dirt track and walk the remaining twenty minutes to that mouldering wooden sign. It had seemed like a good idea at the time - a chance to breathe some fresh air.

You hear Ray knock again, harder this time.

“We heard you, just wait!” Xavier snaps in the direction of the door, his good mood completely gone. You wonder if he's worried that Ray will actually have some kind of effect on you.

“There's nothing he could say that would convince me to change my mind.” You try your best to sound reassuring. “I know everything now, right? There are no more secrets?”

Xavier frowns as you pull your shirt over your head.

Fuck. Why is he frowning?

“There's one more thing. It's not a big deal, that's why I didn't tell you earlier.”

You breathe evenly, trying to remain calm.

“What is it?”

“Remember I told you that Ramirez is here?”

You nod warily.

“Well, he has some kind of satanic deal going on that allows him to leave. So... we all take it in turns to make sure he stays. We kill him again and again, every time he revives. That's the only thing I haven't told you.”

You sit down on the bed just as Ray bursts through the door. Xavier swings around swiftly, but you are able to catch the furious look on his face first.

“What the fuck, man!? You can't just barge in here!” He yells.

Ray takes a step back, throwing up his arms defensively. “You were taking forever!”

“I was getting dressed.” Your voice comes out expressionless. Your disappointment that Xavier has, once again, kept something important from you leaves you feeling numb.

“I'm sorry. Really sorry.” Ray looks past Xavier to find your eyes.

“It's fine. You wanted to speak to me?”

Ray casts a sheepish glance in Xavier's direction. “Uh, yeah. Alone, if possible?”

Xavier looks at you. You nod, but make sure to smile at him. Despite the fact that he has made another mistake, you don't want him to worry.

“Fine.” He sighs, his gaze boring into yours. “I won't be far away.”

With that he leaves, but you notice him make sure that the cabin door is slightly ajar. You remain seated, looking towards Ray expectantly.

“I uh, I just felt I had to come. Montana told me about your plan. I think it's a really bad idea.” Ray shifts from foot to foot, unable, now, to meet your eyes.

“Why?” You ask.

Ray hesitates, then comes to sit beside you. You cringe a little internally, you are not at all comfortable having another man so close to you in the space that you have come to associate with Xavier and sex. Especially a man you really don't know. You hope that whatever Ray has to say, it will be quick.

“Look, Y/n, this might sound stupid but I need to say it. If you kill yourself and sentence your soul to an eternity here, you'll never be able to... move on.”

You try to remain patient. “I know that Ray.”

“But you'll never get to Heaven.” Ray says, the volume of his voice rising as he grows desperate.

You are surprised. You didn't realise that Ray was the religious type. You glance at him to see him twisting the edge of the blanket around his fingers. You feel a little sorry for him. He really is trying to help you.

“Ray, I don't want this to sound harsh because I actually appreciate what you're trying to do but, I'm not religious.” You strive to sound calm but firm. ”I don't believe in an afterlife, or Heaven and Hell. I'm sorry. I know that you probably see suicide as a sin, but I just don't. Why would I chose to die years down the line and cease to exist when I could stay here? This is better than a complete void.”

Ray remains silent for several seconds, staring at the floor. You brace yourself for an outpouring of overzealous rhetoric, but it doesn't come. Instead, Ray stands, turning to face you.

“I can't make you leave, and there's nothing I can really do to stop you. I know your type.” He blurts out angrily. “I've done my part. Just know this, I won't help to bury you.”

With that Ray leaves, stony-faced. All you feel is shock as a wave of sadness builds within you. You hate confrontation, especially when you are feeling so vulnerable. Xavier re-enters the cabin seconds later to find you crying silently. You feel him sink into the mattress and wrap you in his arms, rocking you gently and making shushing sounds.

“I'm gonna kill him.” Xavier growls.

You look into his blue eyes, sniffling. “No, you're not. He just wants to save my soul.”

“I know. I was listening at the door. Self-righteous ass. Him, not you.”

You let out a choked laugh, eyes still watery. You don’t even care that Xavier fucked up again. It’s not his fault. You really can’t expect him to be as aware as a human when he’s been stuck here for so long. He must see Ramirez as completely insignificant.

“I'd really rather you just left Ray alone. This must be hard for him.” You sigh. You had no idea that your decision to end your life would cause such an issue for someone you barely even know. “He will just have to learn to live with me.”

“Okay.” Xavier wipes a final tear from your cheek with his thumb, happy to adhere to your wishes. “I suppose we have some plans to make then?”

“We do.” You smile at him. “But first you need to explain this Ramirez situation to me properly. Am I going to have to join in the killing?”

Xavier shakes his head firmly. “No, absolutely not. I want you to know that you never have to do a single thing you don't want to here.”

Your smile grows bigger as you collapse into Xavier’s hug, relieved that he is beginning to learn what your needs are.

Notes:  So I imagine that Ray wasn’t overly fussed with his religion in life which is why it’s not a thing in the show, however since his death he’s become quite preoccupied with it. Hope this fits for everyone. Also I have nothing against Ray but he just seemed to me from what we learned in the show like the type who would be most unhappy with Y/n’s plan.

[sammyspreadyourwings]

U said to talk to u about ur AUs so here I come! Let’s do some more world building yeah? *cracks knuckles* I hope you don’t mind the up-coming long but very incoherent and messy rant about the WITCH!AU because I have MANY thoughts so let’s chat?! :DDD My Halloween loving ass is fucking living right now oh yeah.

World building ??? 👀👀👀

Why did they get rid of my Read Mores on Asks???? Anyway, buckle in y’all long post ahead.

🌠🌠🌠 (01) What if Brian’s presence somehow enhances one’s powers? That’s why he’s always being chased by spirits or other beings and bad witches want him for this and when they can’t have him they want to kill him? (you’d appreciated the extra layer of angst? XD Like do you want me because you truly love me or do you want me because of my Gift that would greatly benefit your own power)

That could potentially be a result because witches that work with spirits because they’re opening up liminal spaces. Not that Brian is aware of it, and is doing it mostly incidentally which is how some nastier spirits get attatched to him and cause some of Brian’s problems.

He does have that moment once or twice, once he figures out how all of this workes.

(02) What hex or spell do you think the witch (or the evil coven? For dramatic movie rivalry effect between sides LOL) cast to kill him? Something related to the hepatitis and ulcer? Disease or other stuffs? (I can’t help but think about the CW TV Series Supernatural witches have so many creative ways of killing someone through hexes, spells and curses)

So I don’t have any names yet, because I am Bad at them. The curse that I currently have in mind is that it’s kind of a paralyzation hex? Like when Brian gets hit with it, it moves more central, so he looses the ability to move and then eventually the ability to speak and eventually breathe.

(03) Imagine how distressed Brian would be because he loves Astronomy and stargazing but during night is always the most dangerous to him? However after meeting the other three they’re always with him (or at least one of them) especially at night? Dragging him out for drinks and all the other fun stuffs that Brian seems to be missing out on. (Freddie will ruffle his hair playfully saying something like you’re safe with us darling we’ll look after you and wink at him but he figures they just want to see him blush so yeah all the usual good old oblivious Brian trope LOL)

Bless oblivious Brian. The insomnia as a kid is what half inspired him to love the stars, because that’s all he’d have to stare at during those long nights. It’s also when those Things He Doesn’t See (his mother’s words) circle around him.

The other three naturally realize what Night means, and how it can affect an untrained Witch especially one that has a Gift like Brian’s. Roger is the one that tends to keep near Brian during the night because he’s simply the best at unnoticable protection charms. And he usually makes a big show of getting into disagreements when he senses that something is Wrong. Because Brian suddenly has a mood drop or John actually feels some kind of spirit (which tend to stay away from him because the dead can’t cross running water).

(04) I imagine the three sometimes turn themselves into animals like cats (witches are so often associated with cats and ravens etc. you know all that) to keep Brian company and to warn off evil beings around him like he’s ours back the fuck off?

Close! They actually use their familiars! Roger’s and Freddie’s are both cats (Roger’s is a maine coon, and Freddie’s is a very sleek looking calico), and Brian usually has to pick them up and put them in the house because “no, kitty, you can’t go to class with me!”

Meanwhile they’re like “dude.”

John’s is usually the one that keeps the best eye on Brian given that it’s a kestrel. She also isn’t fond of Brian because he keeps closing her window! How dare he!

John hasn’t quite managed to convinence her that it’s on accident because Brian doesn’t feel that she’s just not another Bird.

(05) Maybe one night Brian’s having “sleep paralysis” only this time the pressure gets heavier and heavier and help now he can’t breath and he’s panicking but can’t do a thing can’t move a muscle when suddenly he heard a low but cold voice speaking some language (Latin? But not quite there’s an extra edge to it) beside his bed but he can’t understand a word and the pressure just vanished like that. He whines low in his throat and struggles to move and tries to open his eyes but he’s suddenly very groggy and tired and then he felt gentle hands caressing his face and carding through his hair effectively soothing him and the voice is now crooning sweetly, calming him by saying things like you’re safe love sleep now and when he’s about to fall asleep the hands left that’s when he heard at least three different voices conversing with each other outside maybe? One sound worried, one sound furious and the last one seems to be thinking about something but they’re all speaking in some kind of language that he doesn’t understand.

Okay, I dig, I see what you’re doing here nonnie. 

So this is probably when Roger, John, and Freddie kind of figure out there’s something out there trying to get Brian because Drudes (nightmare demons from Germanic folklore) don’t just take a walk about on the prime material plane. Much less someone who isn’t having a nightmare.

Roger is furious, because after chasing the damned Drude away he checked his seals and found that his demonic protection one has been inverted and draws demons to them. He’s screaming his head off, because he doesn’t know why or how some one would know.

Freddie is just worried because Brian hadn’t reacted to it the way anyone else should have. Almost like he accepted that this was a thing that happened and not a literal demon eating his life force.

John is trying to figure out how the Drude got in on the first place, after Roger found out the seal, and why it would come for Brian directly. Freddie’s got the most “magic” out of the four of them, Brian’s being so tightly wrapped away. Maybe Brian is just awakening his powers and because of his Gift the Drude noticed. But Roger is right, Drudes don’t just come on this plane without cause.

Meanwhile, Brian is out cold/out of it for the next 16 hours because the Drude did get a good grip on Bri’s life force before the other three noticed. Which naturally makes the others clingy for like the next month. Roger keeps forcing his weird wood crafting hobbies into Brian’s bag, and John is always hanging around the physics building and Freddie is painting a really weird thing on the wall. Which kind of makes them look like satanists.

(06) Following no. (05) do you think witches have their own languages akin to Latin but maybe they’re some kind of variation? Also will there be different dialects based on uses, regions and powers?

They all have different casting languages, yes! Most are based on latin, while eastern witches tend to stick with very old forms of their countries languages (e.g chinese with china, Hindi). Some are actually symbol based, which Freddie is very adept at because it gives the most versatility.

(07) And you know like in horror movies how people are with Ouija boards and summoning rituals? Brian of course never participates he avoids most supernatural related stuffs like plague but maybe growing up his encounters people who do those type of stuff for fun and he’s kind hearted not wanting them to be in danger so he’d try to dissuade or stop them but once the spirits or evil beings were conjured the beings always go for Brian? The most severe incident is the Bloody Mary one she appears in mirrors and Brian almost got pulled in trying to save his classmate but eventually he was saved by another witch?

Brian grows up not believing in ghosts, but he can’t deny that’s weird that things happen every time they do mess with Oujia boards. The Bloody Mary thing left him with a permanent inability to walk through hallways in the dark. But he does have the scar on his arm from when whatever it was tried to pull him through the mirror. It was weird. He thinks his friend’s mom stopped it because she game them a really long lecture while bandaging Brian’s arm.

(08) Following no. (07) that’s where my this idea came from: do you think maybe one of Freddie, Roger or John’s family member saved Brian before (when he was a kid? A teenager?) although Brian doesn’t know it? (perhaps he’s passed out during that? Roger and John’s family are more likely to do so simply because of geographic wise?) And that elder witch recognized that Brian belongs in the coven with Freddie, Roger and John so he/she/they got home, told them about this very special boy (girl? person?) that they have to protect one day and proceed to spend years arranging for them to “casually” meet and hopefully become friends or even more?

Never considered this... but this is strangely in line with what kind of Gift I have planned for John.

It would be John’s mom that steps in. Brian accidentally invokes a vengeful spirit while playing in the park. It knocks him into a tree before she can get to him. She quickly banishes it before going over to Brian. Her hands push back his hair, checking his head (only a tiny little bump thankfully) when she feels her son? of all people on his skin. She knows John is a very strong Sympathic but for him to be on someone’s he’s never met.

And for this boy to attract such powerful spirits but existing? He didn’t even know what it was?

Well, she’s never been one to question the whims of the earth. Instead she tosses her hair back and starts yelling for someone to help. Ruth comes over quickly, and Mrs. Deacon explains that Brian fell from the tree. There’s no magic coming from Ruth, not like Brian.

Oh boy, she thinks. This is trouble.

When she goes home John is teasing Julie with a rattle. She picks him up and she bounces him on her hip, “I’ve met a special boy, one you’re going to have to protect and teach.”

(09) I imagine that the other three were waiting for the right time to reveal the truth to Brian while shielding him from not just the spirits or demons’ harm but from evil witch covens as well and maybe one day they just had a very unfortunate run in with some elders who harbor malicious agenda - news travels fast? Very soon EVERYONE and every beings that has connection to the Supernatural world KNOWS (except Brian ofc lol) hence the even more aggressive and violent attacks and the other three were constantly on high alert around Brian (while having to act casually it’s hard work really).

They were trying to find the right time, and there’s never a good time to go “so the dead like you because you’re a good transfer spot between worlds oh and the rest of the supernatural kind of hates you or wants to use you because of that.”

Brian finds out about this entire thing when the witch hits him with paralyzation curse. Well just before it because she basically does the villian info dump.

But just before that, when the attacks were ramping up, the others took turns being on Brian watch, cutting their nights short, sleeping in shifts, etc. Roger is literally running out of grimories to look for seals and protection spells. John has to pratically spell a moat into existence around their flat and even Freddie can’t find something to shield Brian’s presence without hampering his magical awakening. 

They’re all getting exhausted, Brian thinks it’s just stress of recording their first album and school work. Except he’s getting a little stir crazy, he’s literally not had a moment alone since the Drude attack (not that he knows it). So when all three of them invietably crash (between the shortened hours and magic drain it says a lot that they went as long as the did). Brian sneaks out.

I don’t think I have to explain what happens?

(10) Haha I like the idea of Freddie being the wild card in every sense especially when it comes to witchcraft obviously considering his cultural heritage is different from the ones in England so he/she/they dresses differently and casts his/her/their magic differently and it infuriates their opponent so fucking much. XD

Freddie uses a hand gesture, the other witch ????? what in the literal fuck? It bothers Roger too because he’s like, this isn’t going to work *spell works* HOW? WHY? 

John actually starts mimicking Freddie’s way of performing spells and his spells get that much more powerful and chaotic.

(11) Sammy I love you. <3333 *blows you kisses*

❤❤❤❤ Thank you for letting me ramble about things!!!

[skybound2]

Where You Keep Your Shoes

Who wants some stream of consciousness Drowley written on very little sleep?! I gotcha my darlings!

It happens slowly, Crowley's death. Not the actual moment. That happens quick, like a knife slipped between two ribs. So sharp and whip swift that you barely know what's happening until you look down. 

But then you look down. You look down and you see the handle sticking from your chest. And the pain and confusion seeps in slow as the blood fills your lungs, and you have an eternity to wonder and regret and wish before oblivion takes you. Until you have no time for anything at all ever again.

Crowley's physical death is like that.

What comes after though? That is infinitely worse. A barren void. Both inexhaustible and exhausting. An oppressive, crushing weight dragging you ever further down into insignificance.

But then - then - the cold fingers of death release their hold one by one, letting in tiny pinpricks of light as they dissolve away. Until Nothing becomes Something. Until what once was Empty becomes a little bit less.

The pain of it is, perhaps, just that much worse for it. But that's okay. It's a reminder. Proof of life.

Better than feeling nothing at all.

So there's pain, and that means life. And that's...good? He thinks. Pain seasoned with equal parts wonder and fear.

Wonder that he's back. Wonder that someone would bother. Wonder that anyone would care.

Fear that it can't last. Fear that it's one final joke the universe plans to play on him. Fear that he's out of his depth.

He was no good as a human the first time around, who's to say he's not going to screw it up this time too?

So he deals with it in the only manner he's any good at.

Bargaining. Making deals. Or trying to at least.

Trouble is, there's no one for him to bargain with. No one to whom he can plead his case for continued existence. (He doesn't call it praying. He won't . But what else is it when you beg in silence to an unknown entity that holds the power of life and death over you, with no hope of response?) Because no one claims responsibility for his return at all.

No. No he simply sparks back into being on the doorstep of the Winchester's humble abode in the middle of a rainy winter afternoon. Coughing up blood from a wound that's no longer there; chest heaving for breath, and the muscle trapped beneath his ribs pounding against its cage like it plans to escape.

Something it'll try again. Over and over, night after night. Week after week. As his spontaneous second (or third or fourth, because who's counting anyway?) life trudges on. Waking him up from broken visions of Nothing, bathed in cold sweat, with the familiar taste of ash and brimstone in his throat that no amount of whiskey can wash away.

So he bargains. Makes promises that he'll do better this time. That he'll try, if only he can avoid being sent back to that place of manifested Absence ever again.

The worry that he'll be tossed unceremoniously back into that place plagues him like nothing else ever has. It's a slow, insidious type of torture a former demon such as him can respect.

He doesn't swear to be good, because he doesn't believe he's truly capable of that. But he can pantomime, he thinks. He's spent enough years being foiled by the Winchesters to have a general grasp on the concept, even if his days playing at it before his death were sadly limited. And now, having been given shelter in their bunker, he has a front row seat to what Being Good looks like on a daily basis.

It seems to work, his bargain. He keeps breathing. His heart keeps beating. And he eases back into the world, to life, a day at a time. Learning what it means to be human; pretending he understands what it means to be mortal.  

To be moral.

He trips up sometimes. Forgets why people ( Other people. People he doesn’t know. People he doesn't like.) matter. Sam will shake his head at him, the lumbering oaf sighing that heavy dramatic sigh of his that Crowley is certain he practices in the mirror for optimal judgmental effect, and walk away.  

Feathers and Luci’s brat are more patient with his mistakes. But being near them makes his skin itch. Reminds him of what he was for so long - what he no longer is - in a way that leaves him feeling vulnerable. Exposed . Which just makes him lash out like a cornered housecat.

And like a cornered housecat, he’ll skitter away as soon as the coast is clear; to whatever little dark, solitary place he can find so he can lick his imaginary wounds in peace.

He’s never alone for long though. Dean always finds him. And for all that Crowley sometimes chafes at his presence, he’s grateful for it too.

(But then, he’s hard pressed to recall a time when he wasn’t grateful for Dean Winchester. As even on the days when he was making Crowley’s life difficult beyond measure, he was also making it more interesting.)

Crowley can be alone when Dean’s there. Alone with his thoughts; with his confusion; with his uncertainty. And Dean will let him wallow, but only to a point. Dragging him up and out of the bunker when he gets too maudlin. To pool halls and bars, usually, or easy hunts with black and white answers, where Crowley gets to pretend that he has the faintest idea what it means to be good. But sometimes he just leads him outside. Away from the recirculated air that reeks of blood and sweat as much as it does of parchment and ink.

Dean will let him rant and rage on occasion too, something Crowley appreciates as much - if not more so - than everything else. Maybe because Dean calls him out on his bullshit. Every. Single. Time. And that’s something Crowley has always found refreshing. Demon, human, or somewhere in between.

At first Crowley’s not certain what Dean gets out of it. But as the weeks bleed on into months, he begins to suspect that what Dean gets out of it isn’t all that different from Crowley.

Space. A chance to sort himself out without anyone putting demands on his time. On his thoughts.

Someone who gets it.

Memories of hell a shared space between them, even if they are looking at it from different angles.  

It’s a year and some change after his return that Crowley accidentally falls asleep in Dean’s room for the first time. The nightmares that dog his steps send him scurrying out of his room, in search of some place...safe. But rather than seeking out a bottle and an out of the way corner in the bunker like he is wont to do, his feet carry him to Dean’s door.

Dean answers his knock with a grunt, swinging the door open wide and allowing Crowley entrance with nary a word. The television on Dean’s dresser is paused on a scene of a show Crowley doesn’t recognize, the Netflix logo emblazoned in the corner.

Somehow Crowley finds himself sitting on Dean’s bed. Maybe it’s the lack of chairs in the space, or the fact it’s after midnight and it is by far a more inviting option than the floor. Or maybe it’s just that Dean gestures for him to do so, and an invite to Dean’s bed - no matter in what capacity - is not something Crowley is built to refuse.

So he ends up on Dean’s bed, watching a poorly acted, poorly scripted program on the screen. He slowly migrates back, towards the pillows, his feet lifting from the floor inch by inch as he does.

“Dude, take you shoes off.” It’s a command, not a request. Something Crowley may have balked at in days past, or even in the light of the sun at present. But laying on Dean Winchester’s bed watching Netflix in the dark of the night, visions of the bleak Empty he so fears tickling his mind, Crowley does nothing of the sort. Instead, he does as he’s told. Sliding them off and onto the floor at the side of the bed before settling back on the mattress to watch the show. 

He wakes up before the sun crests the horizon - not that anyone can tell that sort of the thing in the windowless bunker, but Crowley’s internal clock is good at it’s job - still laying on Dean’s bed, the elder Winchester’s sleeping visage a scant few inches away. The sight makes Crowley’s heart once again attempt a messy escape from his chest.

Crowley stares, shock and wonder at the sight he’s been gifted holding him in place. Crowley watches as soft lips he’ll recall the feel of until his bones are dust and insanity all that’s left of his mind, part on an inhale. He watches as what he knows to be impossibly green eyes dart back and forth behind closed lids. He watches, and wonders what Dean dreams about.

But not for long. No. When Dean shifts minutely in his sleep, turning towards Crowley - coming dangerously close to making contact - Crowley flees. Sitting up and dropping his feet to the ground.

When he reaches for his shoes, he finds that they aren’t quite where he’d left them. Instead of beside the footpost, they’ve been slide beneath the bed. Tucked away behind the blanket draped across the mattress that both him and Dean fell asleep on. There they sit, next to another battered, but clean, pair of shoes belonging to the owner of said mattress. 

The sight trips him up for a moment, but then Dean sniffles in his sleep and Crowley gets moving, grabbing his shoes and heading for his own room like a thief in the night.

Crowley tells himself it's not important. That it doesn't mean anything. That there's no reason to dwell on it.

But he does. His treacherous, oh-so-very human emotions clog up his brain with thoughts of it. After all, he's never fallen asleep next to Dean before. And Dean has certainly never done the same. Not in all the nights that they'd dallied about back when Dean had been a demon, and Crowley had been grasping at straws. They’d engaged in all manner of sin, but never something so naked as that .

It happens again three months later. And again a month after that. Then a week. Soon enough it's happening with alarming regularity and frequency. 

He'll show up at Dean's door, ready with an easy excuse that Dean never asks for, and so Crowley never provides. Instead, Dean just lets him in, no questions asked. Door swung open, and shut with a click of the lock behind him, all in the time it takes Crowley to exhale.

Some nights they talk. Bantering about the idiocy on the screen, mostly. But sometimes it’s light anecdotes about life past, or discussing the last hunt, or lamenting the fact that Jack’s interest in cooking ‘family’ dinners has outpaced his ability to make anything remotely edible.

But mostly they sit in silence, watching whatever inane thing is playing on the screen that night. There’s no pressure for explanations. No expectation of confessions or demands for anything beyond simple companionship.

In fact, the only demand that is made, night after night, is that Crowley take his shoes off before putting his feet on the bed.

So Crowley does. Every time.

And every time, when he wakes up, he finds his shoes stowed in the same spot beneath the bed.

Next to Dean's.

It confuses Crowley almost as much as it warms his erratic heart.

They don’t talk about it, of course. Crowley doesn’t want to call attention to it, for fear that doing so will bring an end to, well, all of it.

And Dean, well, Crowley knows Dean well enough to know that there’s only two reasons why he wouldn’t bring it up. Either it’s so unimportant as to not warrant mentioning. Or... it’s the complete opposite of that.

Crowley also figures he knows Dean well enough to know which one of those choices is the more likely one, so he keeps his mouth firmly shut.

He’ll take ambiguity over clear rejection any day. 

It goes on like that - month after month, night after night - Crowley spending more hours asleep in Dean’s bed then in his own - always making sure he’s gone before Dean wakes - until Crowley is celebrating a second rotation around the sun as a human. A day that comes and goes without fanfare, for all that the knowledge of it settles on Crowley like a lead shroud.

Two years, and he’s still no closer to figuring out why he was brought back, or how to make sure he doesn’t go back.  

Two years, and he still thinks he rather sucks at this whole ‘Being Good’ thing, though he’s making progress. (He hasn’t been on the receiving end of one of Sam’s epic judgmental sighs in six solid days.) Slow, tedious progress, but progress all the same.

Not that time or progress helps with the nightmares at all. No. No, the only thing that seems to help alleviate those is the presence of one unfairly attractive hunter sleeping nearby.

It’s the dawn of the morning after said two-year anniversary when everything changes.

Crowley’s soaking in the sight of Dean, peaceful in sleep a hand length away, allowing himself a few precious moments of silent adoration before he has to sneak from the bed. He heaves a sigh, wanting to hold onto the moment longer, but being too much a coward to take the chance of getting caught.

(There’s a vague feeling of loss for the centuries of his life when he’d take whatever he wanted with no thought as to something as mundane as consequence, but he can’t quite bring himself to wish to be back in that time again.)

He’s only just begun the process of rolling from his side to his back when he freezes at the feel of fingers grasping at his wrist. His gaze swings to the location of the touch, his traitorous heart thundering away in his chest as he’s forced to admit that yes, that is in fact Dean Winchester’s hand holding him in place.

“Dammit, Crowley. Just once can you stay put? Be nice to get a full night’s sleep for a change.”

And because Crowley is the epitome of articulation at four in the morning when the man he’s been in love with through life and death and rebirth is touching him skin to skin for the first time since said death for a reason not related to impending doom, he says: “Pardon?”

“Sleep, Crowley. I want to get some. And it’d be a hell of a lot easier if you stopped with the nightly walks of shame.”

It takes a monumental effort to pull his eyes away from where Dean’s fingers are encircling his wrist, but he manages. Sliding them up to Dean’s face, trying to read the look he’s being given by the pale light of the dimmed television.

If Crowley were a less pessimistic sort, he’d think it was almost fond. Annoyed, but fond.

But pessimistic or not, Crowley can’t ignore the fact that Dean is actively holding him back from leaving, and is complaining about him having done so in the past. Crowley’s messy human emotions set his heart racing, his blood rushing. The point of contact between Dean’s fingers and Crowley’s wrist the source of the most intense physical sensations that Crowley can recall since he donned a mortal coil.

Despite his physiological response, Crowley’s mind manages to cling to his sense of self-respect enough to stop him from doing something as embarrassing as declaring his everlasting love or something equally ridiculous. “Hardly a walk of shame, Squirrel.”

Dean’s eyebrows lift towards his hairline. An action that when combined with the sideways position of his head illustrates the lines of age that have begun to carve their way across his forehead. (A fact that - if anything - makes Crowley find him even more attractive.) “No? What else would you call tiptoeing outta here before sunrise every morning in your socks?”

“Being considerate?”

An exasperated chuckle escapes Dean. The sound gravel-rough with sleep, and all too-pleasant to Crowley’s ears. “Considerate would be you keeping your ass in bed for a whole night.”

Crowley chokes on his next breath of air. “You want me to spend the night here?" 

“I haven’t kicked you out, have I?”

“Well, no, but, falling asleep watching D-list eighties movies isn’t the same thing as you wanting me to stay.”

“You think if I didn’t want you here, I’d have let you stay here one night, let alone a hundred?” The question is punctuated with an almost imperceptible brush of Dean’s thumb over Crowley’s pulse-point. The action - simple as it is - sweeps away the vast majority of Crowley’s lingering doubts.

“Well, when you put it that way…”

“Good. Glad that’s settled. Now, sleep.”

Crowley swallows down the questions clawing at his throat, and nods his head. He’s rewarded with a soft smile from Dean. Green eyes holding Crowley’s gaze for lingering moments before sliding shut on a sleepy exhale of air.

Dean doesn’t let go of his wrist.

They don’t talk about it in the light of day. Not that Crowley really expected they would. But there’s a distinct shift in their interactions as they move about the bunker. Dean drifting into Crowley’s orbit too often for it to be accidental. Crowley’s head and heart make sure to scream out at him every time it happens, just in case he wasn’t paying enough attention and might miss it.

The internal screaming is made even worse every time Dean smiles or laughs or breathes in his general vicinity.

Dear Mother of Sin, but Crowley feels like a sap.

How he manages to make it through an entire day of pretending that his perception of reality hasn’t been fundamentally altered by one Dean Winchester, he has no idea. (Jack’s attempt at making meatloaf a la mode for dinner helps, he suspects.)

After, Dean heads to bed earlier than usual. There’s no pointed look in Crowley’s direction. No sense of invitation to join him. Nothing at all out of the ordinary.

Crowley follows after him an embarrassingly short time later.

Dean lets him in, as always.

(In retrospect, Crowley can admit that should have been one hell of a clue.)

This time though, when Crowley ends up on the bed with Dean it’s more than just his shoes that join Dean’s on the floor.

So yes, Crowley's death is slow. The slowest in the universe. It begins the moment he first agrees to help the Winchesters, and ends the moment he finally figures out where it is he belongs.

And after that...well, after that, Crowley truly starts living.

~End.