#we were cordial to each other. they existed in the same space as me and I them. that was it

[kisaxiii]

Have you ever had a dream about someone you haven’t seen, much less even thought about, in like over a decade?

[hopesofawallflower]

November 12, 2024

Hey... It has been a long while. There is so much to share, but so little at the same time. I just... don't really know where to start.

The past two years of my life was...hell. I completed my military service and had pretty much stayed at home for the past two years playing video games. The first year was recovering from the leg surgery I had, and... the second year was just... I don't even know. My family labels it as 'laziness', while I call it 'depression'.

There were multiple fights, big ones, with my brother. He seems to struggle to understand my emotions. When I refuse to open up to him about anything going on in my life, he assumes the worst, then calls me a liar for actually trying what little I can put an effort in. When I do open up to him in the heat of an argument, he then claims I'm using my mental illness as an excuse to be lazy since I don't physically display the tell tale signs of someone going through depression. It was exhausting. Between the big fights, small fights, the gossiping with my parents behind my back... it really felt like my life was not worth living for. Family? What family? Family don't call each other names. They don't say you're a good-for-nothing. They don't shout at you, while talking politely with my brother even though he's in the wrong in certain situations. These two to three years made me realize that I'm done with my family. I'm absolutely done.

My brother got his own place and moved out in October. We kept things cordial until he moved out which meant we're still roughly on talking terms... and I guess without the constant close proximity in the same living quarters, it's just a little more tolerable.

My relationship with my parents is the same old off and on bullshit. We get into huge verbal fights from time to time... but my mental state is so messed up I'm actively trying to not speak with them. I don't think they noticed, but soon they might, which will probably spark up another argument. It does not matter though. I'm done. No conversations means there's nothing they can find to spark up any further arguments.

In lieu of my brother moving out, I get a larger living space. It's not huge by any means, and I'm still sleeping in the living room which meant my privacy is almost non-existent since my parents can just walk out of their bedroom and get a view of everything. Not to mention the noise and light they produce when I'm planning to have an early night. It's much less of a nightmare after my brother moved out, but still a nightmare nonetheless. I'm trying to transform this living room into a more conducive environment for myself. I'm planning to get some new furniture, maybe some table potted plants to spruce up the space. I need this. I need this badly.

I have also gotten a job. I started 4 months ago in June. I work at the backend of a Bank, just simple stuff, not too complicated, but doesn't mean that it isn't tedious. The sheer volume of work makes me question life sometimes. Getting a job means i have much lesser time to play video games, but have money to do things I want to do. Like get a professional camera, and travel the world. The latter will have to wait though.... I also built a new PC. Costs a bomb, but I'm pretty satisfied with it.

Work has been... all right so far. I am currently 'on loan' to another department and that department has been working me to my bones. I have started to overtime and I just can't get a breather during work. Paperwork just keeps piling up, the colleagues in that department seems extremely judgmental and just yesterday, I stopped myself from lashing out at something ridiculous that was said to me by a colleague there. I just need to be cool and ignore the people there until the end of the year since that's when I am scheduled to go back to my original department. The colleagues there are much nicer.

Sorry if it seems I'm rushing through everything. My mental state isn't the best right now.... and there's just so much I want to share, but there's this massive mental block so I'm just speeding through whatever comes into my mind.

So right now... I just spend majority of my time at work on weekdays and after getting home from work, I will be on my PC until it's my bed time. The weekends are pretty similar... I just spend the entire day on my PC and then go to bed.

There's not much going on in my life.... I just feel really... lonely, unsatisfied and it seems like every little thing triggers this gnawing and insatiable rage in me. Nothing makes me happy and there are some afternoons I just stare at the wall, thinking about everything, yet nothing at all.

I don't know what to do. I don't know what I can do. I just... feel so lost.

Good night, world.

[full-potential]

Balancing Authenticity and Empathy: Tips for Effective Communication

Good morning Full Potential beings! My apologies for the delay since the last post. I have been actively living life and getting material to blog about! :) Often some of the best material comes from where I see my biggest constraints or conflicts in life. Yesterday was a perfect example of CONFLICT. I shared an experience with a friend. The expectation set was that we were going to "Jam & Journey". I took a chocolate infused with cannabis and she took a little psychedelic mushroom in her tea. The idea (I thought) was to free our expression and journey through music. This is the first time that I have journeyed with this person. In the beginning it was cordial and quite casual. But as the medicine took stronger effect, I think we both felt looser with our communication. When I do any kind of plant medicine I feel like a bigger channel in me just wants to open up and I actually love the feeling of being such an open channel I allow what wants to be expressed to come through. So from what I can remember we shifted from a somewhat esoteric conversation about existence into song. I picked up my guitar and really allowed myself to fully express through singing. She went out front and played the singing bowls I have that make an angelic harmonic sound when you encircle them with a specially made stick. This was fine for a while and then we shifted back into conversation. I felt like there was resistance to however I was communicating so I decided to get my notebook out and really take notes .. this helps me listen better. She seemed to not like the notebook idea either, feeling like she was being studied instead of having a more natural dialogue. I accepted that there wasn't much I could do at that point to appease the walls of resistance that were up because earlier in the conversation she had felt talked about. It's true that I was excited and sometimes I can talk louder or over another person. However this sometimes also happens to me and I feel that once we're aware of it we can only shift into a new moment and do better next time. However for whatever reason we couldn't simply drop it until I fully acknowledged how wrong I was. I mentioned I didn't feel wrong, I just felt like I needed to adjust my communication with her. Sometimes two excited people can talk over each other but they are still in synergy if they are excited about the same topic. She interpreted my behavior as controlling and dominating. I accepted this interpretation and asked if we could move on.. but for whatever reason the energy kept escalating until with great anger she left the property. Now I've done my best to capture the story the way I remember it, I recognize she may have an entirely different interpretation. Obviously however I was communicating or expressing was upsetting to her and however I was responding was not allowing her nervous system to settle enough to stay in the space. Also I recognize that when doing plant medicines feelings and responses to situations are amplified .. on all sides. So I have to be more careful and set better expectations around a certain need for freedom of expression and open channeling of energy. It's important to point out that I made it very clear she could express however she wanted to express. I didn't once ask her to modify her expression other than to stay on her side when it felt like she was getting a little aggressive. But I didn't tell her to shut up or get softer, in fact when she was at her angriest point I told her this was good, let it out. But this wasn't her desired response from me I guess, cause she stayed mad and left in a huff! Nevertheless I thought I would call on AI to give a little insight into a better process for communicating next time and here's what it said: Balancing Authenticity and Empathy: Tips for Effective Communication Description: Explore the art of communication that encourages authenticity while respecting others. Discover practical tips to master this delicate balance. Body: Life is filled with interactions. Each day, we navigate a myriad of conversations, each serving as an opportunity to connect, share, and learn. But how often do we stop and reflect on our communication style? Are we being authentic while also considering others' feelings? Today, we're diving deep into the art of balancing authenticity and empathy in communication. 1. The Power of Active Listening Active listening isn't merely waiting for your turn to speak; it's about genuinely understanding and appreciating the other person's perspective. This validation can create a safe space where ideas flow freely. Aim to comprehend before sharing your standpoint for a fruitful exchange. 2. Embracing Authentic Expression Honesty paves the way for trust. Express your thoughts and emotions genuinely, yet thoughtfully. This authenticity encourages others to open up and fosters an environment of mutual respect. 3. Emotional Intelligence: Your Compass Understanding your emotions and those of others can enhance interactions immensely. Emotional intelligence empowers you to empathize, regulate your feelings, and handle relationships judiciously, enhancing the quality of your dialogues. 4. The Art of Clear Communication Keep your messages clear, concise, and easily comprehensible. Avoid overcomplicating things. The simpler your communication, the easier it is for others to connect with you. 5. Respecting Boundaries Recognize and respect personal boundaries. This understanding promotes a secure environment where everyone can freely express themselves. 6. Cultivating Open-Mindedness Acceptance is key. Appreciate different viewpoints, seeking to understand them even if you don't agree. This openness encourages a respectful exchange of ideas. 7. Non-Verbal Communication: The Unsaid Words Your body language, facial expressions, and tone of voice can significantly influence your interactions. Be mindful of these non-verbal cues as they contribute to the overall message you convey. 8. The Gift of Feedback Constructive feedback can bridge communication gaps and foster mutual understanding. Embrace feedback and deliver it respectfully and constructively. 9. Setting Expectations The crux of effective communication lies in managing expectations. Clarity from the outset can prevent misunderstandings and promote harmonious interactions. 10. Conflict Resolution: Turning Tides Disagreements are an inevitable part of human interactions. However, honing your conflict resolution skills can ensure that disputes are resolved respectfully, maintaining the integrity of all parties involved. Visualize each conversation as a dance. It's about finding the rhythm, knowing when to step forward and when to step back. With time, patience, and practice, you can master the delicate art of communication, fostering an environment that encourages authenticity and respects others. Remember, the goal isn't to conform to others' expectations, but to express your true self while allowing others to do the same. --- Isn't that a good response? I particularly like the dance analogy. I will try to dance more effectively the next time I'm in an expressive space with people and try to find the harmony and rhythm together. Finding the discipline to step back when needed and see constraint as a strength too. Read the full article

[ichigo-daifuku]

See No Evil, Hear No Evil, Speak No Evil [3]

Fandom: Shall We Date?: Obey Me! Pairing: Diavolo/F!Reader Genre: Soulmate AU, Fake Relationship (?), Misunderstandings, Fluff, Angst, Smut

Synopsis: During a confrontation between Diavolo and a certain witch who harbors unrequited feelings for him, he declares his intention to ask you to stand beside him in reigning over the Devildom someday. You conclude only one logical explanation for the insanity he uttered: this is his way of discouraging the witch from being so persistent. Although clueless, you play along and become ‘lovers’ with him.

Inevitably, your existing attraction for Diavolo grows, but the distinction between truth and lies, the crisscrossed lines of the right and the wrong, and the question of what’s real and what isn’t, begin to plague your mind and stir up trouble for your relationship with him with each passing day.

Entangled within the woven threads of soulmates and a royal prophecy, this is the story of the Demon Prince and his future Queen: you.

1 | 2 | 3 Chapter 3: Speak No Evil Word Count: 5.6k

“Welcome, my lady.”

The staff at the Demon Lord’s Castle greeted you with dutiful bows. If they were surprised at the punctuality of your arrival, they showed no signs of it and ushered you inside. As per your previous visits, they were all cordial. Most of them even looked excited, and you felt a pang of guilt for deceiving them all this time.

Originally, the demon brothers had planned for your grand arrival with all seven of them escorting you to the ballroom. Due to your change of plans, however, you made excuses and admitted you had matters to discuss with Diavolo before the celebratory ball, intentionally leaving out any specifics. You persuaded them by divulging your plan of handing Diavolo the baked goods you prepared as a gift. In the end, the demon brothers reluctantly relented. You patted yourself on the back for remaining firm despite your gratitude for the Seven Rulers of Hell. It was a difficult feat to accomplish.

The day after your conversation with Solomon, you headed to town and purchased an outfit for the celebratory ball on your own rather than using those hanging on the racks of the prophesied Queen’s closet at the Demon Lord’s Castle. It was the first step in your departure from your role as the faux Queen. While browsing at one of your favorite boutiques, you found a red embroidered evening gown that completely covered your back and was zipped from the side. It was simpler than any of the formalwear in the Queen’s closet, but it wasn’t as if you would be at the party to impress anyone nor enjoy yourself.

It would be the last time you would pretend to be Diavolo’s other half. After this event, everything would be over.

A bittersweet feeling flooded your chest, but when you looked back at the moments you shared with Diavolo, you were unable to deny the truth to yourself: you’d do it all again if you could.

Your high heels click-clacked on the polished floor as you approached Diavolo’s study. Before anything else, you peeked inside and only entered the room once you found it empty. You shut the door and went over to his desk. The kisses you shared with him the other day were still fresh in your mind. In a span of a few days, your circumstances with him had completely changed. It was strange to stand in the same place with that realization gnawing at your gut.

Gingerly, you set the pastry box on Diavolo’s table, pulled a sticky note from his tall stack, and wrote a short thank you note for him. A small sense of finality washed over you as you signed your name and placed it on the box. It was cowardly of you to give him your gift like this, but once you’d told him you’d end this charade with him, he might decline it. You were already hurting, and as much as possible, you wanted to lessen the impact of his rejection.

After leaving his study and roaming around the castle, Diavolo remained nowhere in sight. You took a wild guess and went to the gazebo, a tinge of dread in your steps when you found out you were right. As tall and regal as he was during the first time you saw him, he stood and gazed at the lake, its tranquility one with its beholder.

“Diavolo,” you called.

“Hello there.” He turned his head to look at you, his lips breaking into a smile. “You’re beautiful.”

“Thank you,” you replied and moved forward, taking in the sight of him in formalwear. “You look great, as always.”

“You flatter me.”

“It’s the truth.” Once you reached the gazebo, you stayed at the threshold, ready to leave once you had said what you needed to tell him. “By the way, I left something for you in your study.”

“A gift?”

“That’s right. Some pastries. I baked them myself.”

“Let’s eat them together later. We can have our own after-party.”

“No, I made them for you. And we’ll get full at the banquet, won’t we?”

“There’s always room for dessert.” He laughed at his own quip and gestured over the lake. “Why don’t you stand beside me? The view is quite splendid.”

“It’s fine. I can admire it from afar.” Unwavering, you remained rooted at your spot. The lake was majestic, but it wasn’t what you were here for tonight. You hid your shaky hands behind your back and fiddled with your fingers, taking a deep breath as you returned your complete attention to Diavolo. “I have something to tell you. It’s important.”

“You can tell me anything, my princess.”

“I’m sorry, Diavolo,” you said, “but let’s end this.”

A long pause passed before he clarified with uncertainty, “The party?”

“Not that. I meant this—whatever’s between us—let’s end it.”

“What? Why? Have I done something to displease you?” Diavolo interrogated, his entire demeanor shifting into a panicked one. He stepped closer to you, but you retreated and exited the gazebo entirely. It dawned on him: his pursuit would cause you to fall further back. A grim expression on his face, he came to a halt and demanded, “Tell me.”

“No, Diavolo. Far from it,” you confessed with a sad smile. “You’re the Prince of the Devildom, and you’re the most wonderful man I’ve ever met.”

“If so, then what’s the problem?”

“I’m in love with you.”

“And?”

And? That’s all he has to say? you thought bitterly, hurt your confession warranted such a lackluster reaction. “I can’t keep doing this when there’s someone else meant to be by your side.”

Diavolo stiffened. “Someone… else…?”

“Yes. I can’t pretend to be the Queen in the prophecy anymore. I love you. A lot. And it’s hurting me, so please, let’s end this.”

Instead of replying, Diavolo kept quiet.

Unable to take his silence any longer, you averted your gaze and proceeded to wrap up the conversation. “I’ve said what I wanted to say. I’ll attend the party. You’re free to clarify this tonight or I can pretend to be your Queen one last time, whichever works for you. But please make sure to clear up the misunderstanding in the future.”

“You’re under the impression,” he paused and let out a laugh in an icy tone you’d never heard from him before, “that we’re pretending to be together?”

Chills ran down your spine. The question he uttered made you more nervous than you ever were tonight. Diavolo’s deep voice dripped with realization, incredulity, but most of all, rage.

You were in trouble.

“You’re right. There’s been a misunderstanding.” He let out a menacing laugh and strode in your direction. Instinctively, you attempted to put space between the two of you, but he grabbed your wrist and pulled you close to him, wrapping both of his arms around your waist so quickly you didn’t have the chance to step away and flee. “All the times you said you were happy, whenever you told me you were looking forward to seeing me, when you agreed we looked like a great couple, you weren’t lying.”

“I wasn’t,” you acknowledged, your tense body gradually going lax at his touch. The familiar scent of his cologne made your mind hazy as you breathed in. “I’ve been in love with you for a while now. I might have pretended to be your lover, but I’ve been true to you. That’s why we have to end this.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No.” Diavolo bent his head and whispered in your ear, “I never lie, did you know?”

You didn’t.

His words prompted your head to swirl with scenes of your interactions, one of them standing out among the rest.

“So, that day… when Maddi confronted us about the prophecy,” you paused, your eyes wide as you tilted your head to meet his gaze, “y-you meant every word you said?”

“Yes, you’re the one for me. The only one,” he declared, embracing you tighter. “Shall I prove it to you?”

Once the question left his lips, Diavolo’s eyes glowed, and the next thing you knew, the sights around you shifted from the gazebo to the Queen’s closet. He refused to let you go, and you were faintly aware you were in the corner of the room as your hips nudged the wooden edge of the grand vanity table. Fortunately, the surface was vacant since all the cosmetics remained in the drawers, or else they would have already toppled on the floor.

Diavolo asked, “Do you know what’s on your back?”

“How did you—”

“I saw. When we had breakfast together, during that day when you agreed to pretendto be my lover.” His fingers brushed the nape of your neck and slid down to your spine, his large palm resting over your back. “Do you know what’s written here?”

“My soulmark.”

“It’s more special than that.”

“How come?”

“Have you seen it?”

You shook your head. “I’ve never dared to. I don’t like it... and I’m… scared of it.”

“Do you like me?”

“I love you.”

“Are you scared of me?”

“No.”

“If that’s the case, there’s no need for you to dislike or be scared of your mark.”

As he had revealed to you moments ago, Diavolo never lied. You trusted him. If he was certain he was your soulmate, you had nothing to fear. “Okay, but I have to remove my dress, so if you will, the door is that way.”

Diavolo released you with a quiet laugh. A familiar mischievous smile played on his lips, he shook his head. Determinedly, he reasoned, “I can’t afford any more misunderstandings with you.”

Instead of leaving, he moved and settled down a few steps within your reach. He gave you free rein over the space in front of the mirror and crossed his arms, waiting.

Conceding, you sighed and shook your head in exasperation. There was no way you could convince him to leave. You raised your fingers to pull the zipper from your side, but the eyes trained on you were too intense, you almost turned—if not for the fact you’d still see him admiring your actions from the mirror which, strangely, felt more intimate. Averting your gaze, you stripped out of your evening gown. You thought of making your way to the chaise and laying down your outfit on it, but your hands felt too shaky, and your feet felt too cold. The crimson cloth slipped away from your fingers and pooled on the floor.

Donned only in your lingerie, you were exposed, and your back was ready for your revelation. Fear threatened you to put an end to this mess through flight, but your trust and affection for the man standing in front of you led you to fight this fear and face it head-on.

And then, on your own volition, you finally looked at what was imprinted on your back: the soulmark you once resented but now gave you hope and promise.

Once you saw it, you felt grateful for your unknowingly wise decision of hiding it from everyone who asked about it in the human world.

“No way…” you murmured, unable to tear your gaze from your back’s reflection.

Three numbers were written vertically over your spine:

6 6 6

Diavolo approached you, his arm moving past your waist and resting on the table. He tilted his head to the side, and like you, openly gazed at your soulmark’s reflection in the mirror. His fingertip traced over the numbers, one after another, earning a soft gasp from you. “You know what this means, yes?”

You did.

The Devil’s Number.

Devil.

Diavolo.

Speechless, you turned your face and stared at him, tears threatening to fall from your eyes.

“Do you honestly believe I could be this good at pretending to be in love with you?” Diavolo questioned and gave you a kiss on your forehead. “You think too highly of me.”

“Do you really… love me?” you whispered.

“Listen well, my princess,” Diavolo embraced you and stroked your hair. “I love you.”

Tears streamed down your cheeks, dampening his suit, but neither of you cared. “The prophecy…”

“It’s about you.”

“So, all this time…”

He sighed and grimaced. “Yes.”

“Are you still mad at me?”

“I am,” he said, releasing you to wipe your tears with his thumbs. “Don’t think I’m letting you get away with it.”

Diavolo cradled your cheeks and bent his head to kiss you. After you decided to break things off with him, you had accepted you’d never be as close to him as you were before, but here you were. Eyes closed, you basked in his affection, which you now know was true and meant only for you. Despite the anger he admitted to, the sensation of his lips on yours was warm and forgiving. When you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulled him closer, and deepened your kisses, the soft sigh that escaped his lips was all you needed to know he was relieved. It put him at ease that you loved him and weren’t going to leave him. It was a sentiment that mirrored yours.

Breathless, he leaned back and met your heated gaze. The crackling tension between the two of you grew from powerful to electrifying, a telltale sign of a singular ending to this encounter. It was a resolution you never dared to consider when you entered this castle tonight, but it was one you had no complaints about. He needed this—needed you—and you’d be damned if you were going to let this end like it did last time.

“Will you indulge me?” His fingers grazed your mark once more as he took the clasp of your bra between them and unhooked it in one go. “Rather, would you indulge in me, my princess?”

“Here? Now? The celebratory ball is going to start soon,” you teased, tugging his bow tie with your index finger and unfastening it.

“Our unfinished business is more important,” Diavolo reminded you, his suit jacket falling on top of your dress. You unbuttoned his shirt and brushed your lips on his collarbone, the tip of your tongue teasing his exposed skin. He sighed and continued, “You have no idea what you do to me. I’ve wanted you for so long, but it seems my feelings didn’t come across properly. I’ll make it so you’ll never have any doubts about us ever again.”

Diavolo guided you to sit on the dresser and began kissing your neck, freshening the faded lovebites he had made and adding more as he caressed your breasts with his palms and dragged his thumbs over your hardening buds. His ministrations were languid and tender, but every contact with his mouth and fingers left you squirming, eager for him to quicken his pace and pay attention to where you needed him the most.

“When you first arrived here, I just knew… I have to have you all to myself,” he confessed.

As his lips reached your abdomen, Diavolo went down on one knee. To you, he looked like a knight receiving an accolade from his monarch; as if the vanity table was your throne, and he was promising himself to you. Perhaps, it would be more appropriate to liken him to the prince who had finally found his elusive Cinderella. But perhaps not—as unlike that prince, he was removing your high heels and setting them aside. Desire and reverence filled his eyes as he tilted his head and stared at your bare form, your chest rising and falling in anticipation. 

“Now, everyone’s going to know you're mine,” he vowed, hooking your panties at the side and sliding them down your legs, “including you.”

Your mouth parted in a soundless groan as Diavolo kissed the inside of your knees.

“What do you say, my princess?”

Anticipation pooled at the pit of your stomach. A slow, coquettish smile made its way on your lips. Above all else, you wanted him to know you were eager for this as much as he was—that you desired him as much as he desired you. You raised your legs and beckoned him closer by spreading them and letting your calves and feet rest over his wide shoulders. “Show me.”

He smirked, pleased with your answer. Wordlessly, he kissed and nipped at the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs. Tilting his head lower, his warm breath ghosted over the apex of your legs, his lips hovering over your sex. The first swipe of his tongue was gentle. He let you familiarize yourself with the sensation before he licked you where it was the most pleasurable. When he did, the sharp inhale you took didn’t escape his notice. He knew what he was doing, flicking his tongue and sucking at that little bundle of nerves with the right amount of pressure, in the way you never knew you wanted it. His index and middle finger over the sides of your entrance, his tongue plunged inside you. It triggered a sudden movement of your hips, but he held you in place and steadied you with his other hand, his ministrations never faltering, coaxing a diminutive moan out of your lips.

“You hear that?” he murmured, pertaining to the sound the shallow thrust of his middle finger made. Those three words sent a pleasurable wave from his lips to your groin, making you curl your toes and your back arch against the mirror. “We’ve only just begun, and you’re already so wet for me.”

“Stop teasing me so much,” you whined. You reached out to brush his hair and thread your fingers between its strands, but at the quickening pace of his hand, you ended up tugging at his locks instead.

“It’s because you’re holding back,” Diavolo pointed out with a soft chuckle. He peered at your face and waited for your reaction as he added a second—and soon, a third—finger into the mix. “Let me hear you. I know you can be louder than that.”

Even if you wanted to subdue the gratified noises threatening to fill the room, you were helpless against his earnest pursuit of your peak. He pumped his fingers in and out of you over and over, making you cry out as you reveled in the sensation of your release. At a rhythmless pace, your hips shifted against his face once more, only this time he let you ride out and enjoy the most out of your climax.

Diavolo might be all refined, dignified, and gentlemanly, but now that you had brought out the lascivious side of him—the raw and sinful part of him he kept in the dark to many—he was relentless. He straightened his body and licked his damp lips, savoring your taste. It was a look that told you that there was more to come—that he had more to give.

Eyes bleary, you were faintly aware of it as Diavolo stood. You did likewise, albeit unsteadily, and allowed him to turn your body around. With a light press of his palm over your back, he inclined you downward. Your fingers grasped the edge of the table, and the vision of your flushed state connected with your eyes in the glass. Above your likeness, Diavolo’s reflection smirked at you. Then and there, your earlier thoughts about him admiring you from the mirror were proven correct: everything about this was intimate, enthralling, and insanely sensual.

Diavolo pressed his lips on the numbers on your spine, and your legs wobbled as you shivered. He held you by the waist, his torso perfectly fitting over your back as his other hand worked on his trousers and guided himself near your fluttering entrance, the tip touching you but not entering. His lips tickled your ear, and he dragged them across the lobe and tugged at it. With a soft but demanding voice, he urged you, “Say it.”

Still in a daze from your climax but covetous of another, you were ready to do whatever he wanted you to do. “Say what?”

“Say you’re mine.” He nudged his length between your sensitive folds. He felt so good, and you knew he was going to feel even better once he was inside you.

“I’m yours,” you vowed, shifting your lower half to sheathe him. “I’m yours—only yours! Now, please Diavolo!”

He was delivering what he had promised earlier, showing you how you were his. At the same time, you wanted him to show you he was yours, too. Yearning to be connected to him in some way, you turned your head to meet his lips with your own. Instead of replying with words, he slipped his tongue past your mouth and kissed you deeper. He gripped your hips and eased himself inside your core.

Startled, you pulled your lips away and faced forward with a soft gasp. Although you had an idea of his size and girth from your foreplay, he still felt more than you expected. He was only halfway in, and yet, you were already biting your lower lip to suppress a pleasured scream from coming out of you.

His pace was tantalizingly unhurried. Again and again, he drew back and thrust inside you—only to stop midway. 

It was frustrating. You were capable of taking all of him, and you knew it.

“Harder,” you pleaded, “Do it harder… Please!”

With a kiss on your shoulder, he chuckled and replied, “As you wish, my princess.”

He gave you what you asked for and eased himself fully inside you. Once you accommodated his length, your eyes fluttered closed reflexively. Yes, this was it. This was exactly what you needed. Your breath hitched as he slowly drew back until his tip remained in your entrance, and in a second, he plunged inside you again. “Y-Yes, just like… like that.”

Diavolo groaned, increasing his pace. His fingers dug at your hips, and the erotic sound of skin slapping filled your ears. He leaned back and let out a low hum of appreciation as you took every inch of him perfectly. His voice strained and lacking its usual composure, he remarked, “Feels even better than I imagined.”

Well, damn.

The image of him touching himself to the thought of you was enough to make you shudder with arousal, but the pleasure of having him, in reality, was beyond any vision your mind could conjure up. You clenched around him, coaxing a grunt and a loud moan from his parted lips. He gritted his teeth and tightly shut his eyes, the rhythm he had set gradually turning rougher.

“Fuck!” you moaned, “Diavolo, I… I-I’m gonna—”

He sensed it. His pace refused to falter, and you reached your climax within seconds. You witnessed how much of a mess you turned to in the mirror, but you couldn’t care less. It was Diavolo who made you this way, after all. Your arms and legs gave out as you shuddered, but he readily caught you before you could fall to the ground. 

Diavolo unsheathed himself from you and returned you to your seated position. He kissed your hair and shifted his lips near your ear. “More?”

“Y-Yes.”

Gently, he held one of your legs up and propped your ankle on his shoulder. His other hand clamped over your bent knee. He entered your slick heat, and this time, you were able to accommodate him at once.

“You’re taking me so well,” he praised, his golden eyes following the movement as he thrust in and out of you. “Good girl.”

For the third time tonight, he drove you over the edge, but your earlier climax caused your current race to the peak to be agonizing. You feel it dangling over you, but at the same time, it was out of your reach. Distressed, you exclaimed, “I can’t!”

“You can,” he countered, giving it to you harder, “and you will.”

The fervor in his promise remained inexorable, and the tremor in his voice hinted at his impending climax.

You grabbed his wrist and shifted your leg downward, determined. He realized what you were trying to do as you held your arms up and wrapped your legs around his hips. Chuckling, he lifted you up with ease and held you in his arms firmly. You threaded your fingers through his hair and kissed him. He gripped your thighs and slid you up and down his length, returning to the rough momentum you had moments ago in sought of the heat the both of you had built up.

Little by little, his pace turned uneven. His breathing was labored and warm against your skin. 

“I want to see you come,” you told him. The familiar coil in your abdomen unfurling, your voice grew louder as you cried out, “Fill me up, Diavolo. You’re mine.”

As soon as you said those words, euphoria washed over every fiber of your being. This was the highest you’d ever felt, and you were certain no feeling could compare to this. No other being could compare to him. Diavolo was the only one for you.

In a split second, his jaw slackened and his eyes closed, groaning unabashedly and calling out your name. He continued thrusting inside you, never sliding out he chased his own peak. Trembling, he throbbed and filled you up as you asked, the warm and wet liquid dribbling down the inside of your thighs with his final thrust.

Panting, the two of you remained still as you came down from your respective highs.

It was you who broke the silence a few moments later. “I love you.”

He smiled and stroked your hair. “I love you too, my princess.”

The tender moment was shattered by the sudden increase of temperature on your back. Pain derived from your soulmark and spread over to your shoulders and hips. It rapidly grew hotter until it was sweltering. Your whole body felt as if it was on fire. You couldn’t take it any longer.

“Diavolo!” you cried, “My back—it’s burning!”

The touch of his bare skin was comforting, and somehow, his presence alleviated the agony. However, the invisible fire grew more intense. You could do nothing but let out a scream on his shoulder and cling to him.

Diavolo hooked one of his arms under your knees and carried you to the connecting bathroom. He placed you in the bathtub and made sure your head rested on the area gently. As the cold water rose and filled the tub, he caressed your forearm and held your hand reassuringly.

Your throat felt parched, you couldn’t say anything although you longed to. 

He cupped your cheek and wiped the tears you were unaware you were shedding. “Shhh… It’ll be alright. I’m here. Don’t worry about anything. I’ll stay with you and...”

Before you could hear the rest of Diavolo’s words of comfort, everything had gone black.

Vivid visions of the past filled your dreams one after another. You had long heard of people having their life flash before their eyes before they pass away. Was this it? Were you dying? You hoped not. The images blurred and turned ambiguous as the heat you felt subsided.

And then, you returned to the waking world. Alive.

The cool wind from the open terrace doors nipped at your skin. Except for your exposed back, the rest of your body was warm, enveloped by the calming embrace of the man laying underneath you.

You slowly opened your eyes and blinked.

Diavolo turned his head to look at you. “You’re awake.”

Your fingers reached the fabric of the sleeveless nightdress you were wearing. Vaguely, you recognize it as one of the items in the closet next door. It was your first time wearing it.

“I dressed you. I hope you don’t mind,” Diavolo said.

“It’s fine.” You had shared more intimate moments to be embarrassed about something like that; it almost felt trivial. “Thank you for staying and taking care of me.”

“Of course.”

“What time is it?”

“Almost midnight. How are you feeling?”

Abruptly, you sat bolt upright. “Wait, what? And the celebratory ball?”

“It’s still ongoing, but you have nothing to worry about. More importantly, does your back still hurt?”

“No,” you replied after a brief pause, surprised at your own observation. You stretched your shoulders and bent your arm to reach over the small of your back to check. “It’s as if nothing happened.”

“Something did, actually. Something very important,” Diavolo informed you, his tone full of seriousness. “Your mark changed.”

“What do you mean it changed?”

It was the first time you heard of a soulmark morphing into another shape or form. Appearances of soulmarks were rare enough. As you mulled it over, however, you were quick to overcome the disbelief. When all was said and done, you and Diavolo were far from a regular pair of lovers. 

Diavolo sat up and took your hand in his. “Come, look.”

The spark of excitement and delight in his demeanor piqued your curiosity. His eagerness, though contagious, was patient. He led you to the bathroom at the pace you were most comfortable with. Given the events that transpired earlier, the last thing he wanted was to insist you advance quicker and push yourself too hard.

A giant mirror rested over the sink. Unlike before, you had no qualms nor nervous sentiments about looking over your back. The nightdress made it easy for you to see what Diavolo was talking about.

“This is…”

“My sigil.”

You face Diavolo with a quiet smile.

“Do you still have doubts about me? About us?” he asked.

“No… I’m sorry.” You take his hand in yours once more. “For the record, I don’t think I ever will again.”

“Good to know.”

“Why didn’t you tell me right away? You said you suspected it from the first day we met. I think there’s a possibility Barbatos knew of it as well.”

“Yes, it was the first time I felt so drawn to someone, but while I had my suspicions, I was only able to confirm them during that day, at the House of Lamentation,” he revealed, squeezing your hand. “As for Barbatos, I asked him not to look into anything relating to the prophecy and you, or at least, not to inform me if he sees anything—except if you would be in danger. I wanted things between us to progress naturally. Was that overly selfish of me?”

“Not at all. I’m glad we were able to get through this together, just the two of us,” you replied, endeared by his intention of pursuing a relationship with you in the most normal and genuine way he could. “I didn’t act upon it because I never thought it would be possible, but I… felt drawn to you from the first day, too.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes,” you admitted and glanced at the door. “Is it too late for us to attend the party? I bet everyone is worried.”

“Are you feeling fine enough?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” He nodded, his expression shifting into an amused one. “I think our previous outfits are wrinkled, though.”

You laughed. “I think so, too.”

“Why don’t you choose another one from your closet? You know, I was wondering why you’re always so hesitant to accept gifts from me.”

“Sorry about that,” you replied with sincerity. “This time, I accept the offer wholeheartedly. Thank you for everything. I mean it.”

“You’re welcome, my princess.”

As a final touch, you swiped a layer of red lipstick over your lips and closed the container with a snap. You leaned back and observed your reflection in the mirror. Even though your choice of lip color was bold, you opted for light makeup and went with the natural flushing of your cheeks. You couldn’t help the blood heating up your face at the reminder of your earlier escapades with Diavolo. Undoubtedly, you would never be able to look at this vanity table in the same way ever again. 

Gold jewelry adorned your ears and wrists. The intricate lace pattern of the sleeves and neckline of the black evening gown you were wearing was exquisite to your touch. The full expanse of your back was bare, laid in the open for all to see. While you were unused to such clothing, the impending revelation of your fate for all of the three worlds to witness felt right. All in all, it was a quick ensemble you arranged, but it was elegant. You were more satisfied than you were earlier when you first dressed up for the celebratory ball—in more ways than one.

“All done?” Diavolo asked, standing up from the chaise and putting his D.D.D. inside his pocket. He was in his demon form, as everyone else would be except for your friends from Purgatory Hall, for your ceremonial dance at the end of the celebration. It would be the only event you would be able to attend at this point, but it was the most important one, marking the end of Diavolo’s search and the beginning of your new role.

“Yes.”

He stepped forward and offered you his arm. “Shall we, my princess?”

Wordlessly, you smiled and slipped your hand in his arm as affirmation. This time, you had no guilt nor doubt. Your relationship with him was as real as it could get. You were the prophesied Queen of the Devildom. Soon, he would be your King.

Diavolo was your fate and your choice. And you were his.

Bound by destiny are the Prince and the Princess.

Over her skin, his symbol shall appear and remain.

And with the whole Devildom as their witness,

King and Queen, they shall be; eternal, they will reign.

Notes: And that’s a wrap!

This fic began with the idea of a character having ‘666’ as a soulmark. It was the first time I posted a work that was still in progress, and I’m really grateful for all the kind comments and feedback I received along the way. Thank you to everyone who supported this story. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! 💖

See No Evil, Hear No Evil, Speak No Evil

Obey Me! Masterlist | Main Masterlist

[justapoet]

mary all those prompts are 👀👀👀 can i get 33 + tarlos please?

I'm so glad you like them, Jamie! Of course you can, and I truly hope you like it! ♥

33. "It hurts to breathe..."

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tell me your secrets (and ask me your questions)

TK had always been a curious person.

Since he was a child, he would ask questions about every single thing he saw around him. From why a window is called "window" to where we go after we're no longer beating, and it never changed throughout the years. His curiosity only grew as the answers didn't exist, and TK would always find himself making questions he would chase after answers that didn't exist.

TK would wonder why the stars shine, or why the sky is blue ― and who named it "sky" anyway? How are the same thing called in different languages, and none of them is wrong? Why does the fire burn, and how do we feel the heat? Who chose the name of the sea, and who was the first person to ever decide that fishes were edible?

His parents would say that, as a baby, he would touch everything he could and be mesmerized by anything new that would come to his sight. They would say they knew he'd be trouble once he started walking, for his hands wouldn't fear touching a single thing, and TK would only laugh at how right they were about that.

As a kid, he would ask too much until his mother ran out of patience, and Enzo had to come to the rescue, taking him to the nearest bookstore or library so he could have a source of both questions and answers. As a pre-teenager, he would ask his teachers, and some of them would be thrilled to be challenged with their knowledge, while others would just say they weren't an encyclopedia.

As a teenager, his doubts and curiosity would lead him to periodic obsessions that would keep him awake at night, or it was just something he used as an excuse to stay awake. Anyhow, it was an escape from his twisted mind and fucked up head ― so, for what's worth, his curiosity had kept him alive when the bare facts didn't want to do so.

When he became an adult, his curiosity was never left behind. His questions changed, though, and he essentially wanted to know how it felt not to feel as down as he did and how it would be if someone ever loved him the way he had always read about in books and fiction. TK would wonder why the world wasn't as bright as he used to see it and how he could just disappear, even if for a little while.

Wondering why it was something TK was better in than anyone he knew.

He never wondered why it was like that, though.

With his curiosity, TK also learned he had to be patient and observe the world around him, which led him to know people from a different angle. He would notice their movements, word choices, and how their eyes moved in each situation ― he would read into people as he would read into books, and it was pretty nice to know how to do that.

He wished he had done that better, though, when it came to Alex. But he read into himself around that time, and he knew that he was desperate for any type of love and affection ― TK wanted the love his younger self always questioned if his older self would get and didn't think twice before jumping into the change he'd have that.

It was entirely his fault; TK knew it.

And he was determined not to make the same misjudgment twice in his life ― because he feared he wouldn't have a life to get right if it happened again.

When he got to Austin, TK was still mad at the world and at himself for being so stupid and losing everything he had achieved through the years. His anger took the best of him for most times, and so did his sadness ― but it opened his eyes for a few new lenses, and he found out it was pretty cool to have more than one set of eyes to read people and situations.

Judd, under his red vision and bitter analysis, was just someone too mad at life to realize other people had feelings, too. He was hostile, had anger problems, and was a pain in the ass ― not that it was entirely wrong ―, and TK would never ever be friends with someone like that.

Under his blue vision and heartbroken analysis, though, Judd was just someone who needed some space and time to find the way back from the place he had gotten lost. He was sad, and melancholic, and seriously in need of help.

And, under the vision that didn't require lenses, Judd was a big-hearted man with a few pieces falling from his soul. He was kind, had horrible jokes, and was profoundly in love with the woman he had gotten married to ― and it was the kind of person TK desperately needed as a brother in his life.

Marjan was a badass firefighter with strong opinions and more feelings she'd let slip out of her sleeve, not to mention how sweet she could be towards those who'd allow a mask to fall without any judgment. She was strong, fearless, and should be a bit less acid to those who were only trying to help ― but she was a best friend TK had missed in his life.

Paul was a riddle, and TK suspected that was what he wanted people to think about him. He was observant ― a little too much ―, alarmed and always had good advice on the tip of his tongue, even if he'd rarely follow someone's help that didn't come from Grace or Carlos. Paul was attentive, patient, and wise ― and TK was a little scared of it but wouldn't trade a best friend like that for the world.

Mateo and Nancy seemed to get along well, for both of them had unending jokes for every situation and never won from Marjan on any of their video games. TK had no clue about how it happened, but suddenly Mateo just revealed he was a Broadway fan, and Nancy let it slip that she had watched every single Marvel movie and series so far ― and it was the end of the peace around the firehouse.

TK wouldn't trade them for anybody else, to be honest. But he would, for sure, lock Nancy in the ambulance in revenge for eating his piece of the pie Grace had baked.

And then, there was Carlos.

In the first moment, TK didn't want to read into him enough to regret his choice of not wanting something serious. It was notorious, almost like a fact known to all humanity, that Carlos had kindness hanging out from each one of his words and movements. His words were nothing but sweet, and every single one of his actions seemed to be careful and calculated.

It was surprising, really, when Carlos had invited him to dance on that first night after a shift at the Honky Tonk. He didn't touch TK at any moment, only doing it when he approached first ― and Carlos seemed to always give him a second to think and rethink if he really wanted to go all the way.

Even if it was the bare minimum of respect, it was rare to find it around.

From the beginning, TK also noticed how patient Carlos could be and how he would never pressure anyone into doing anything. He was dedicated to his friends ― since they've met, TK lost count of how many times he would stop by the firehouse to give Michelle something she mentioned he wanted to eat or offer her a ride ―, and to his job, being a damn good cop.

He was good with kids, and any call with one would get him a bit sad afterward. Even so, TK had seen him countless times sitting with them in the ambulance, telling them a story or a joke to distract them from the needles and exams. It was heartwarming for whoever would see it.

From the beginning, too, Carlos would be a mystery TK didn't really know how to begin to solve. Unlike everything TK could've predicted or expected, Carlos didn't seem to want him just for his body or pretty face ― he seemed to want to get to know him, and that was something TK really couldn't wrap his mind around.

Not only that, but he was a mystery, too, to everyone in the firehouse. Judd had known him already from a distance, his friendship with Michelle bringing him around for years, but nothing more than cordialities and the usual kindness that evaporated from the man. Grace had known him from calls, as well, and only knew that he was a good cop, a good man, and really cared about those he was trying to help.

Other than that, no one knew much. Paul could tell Carlos was someone who really respected his privacy and didn't talk much when he didn't seem comfortable or didn't have to, being quiet even when going out. He didn't drink much and was absolutely punctual, and Paul somehow knew that Carlos loved giving small gifts to people.

Marjan said that he would always listen and give full attention to what anyone was saying, and Mateo couldn't get over the fact Carlos had a Mjölnir autographed by Chris Hemsworth ― and he would never tell how he got that.

Being curious about Carlos, then, was inevitable.

Getting to read and decipher him, though, was a choice. And a choice that TK would never regret taking.

He wasn't fluent just yet, but TK would spend as much time as necessary to learn every single word Carlos had to say, imply, or erase. It was a book, a whole universe, that TK was willing to find out more about.

Turns out Carlos never touches anybody without their complete consent, but he loves to be hugged and held whenever he can. He never complains, and on hard days, he almost purrs to any skin-to-skin contact.

TK loved to know that because he loves contact just as much.

TK also found out that Carlos is quiet most of the time, not only in public, and only gets to speak a lot when he's incredibly excited over something new. He found out through some night hours when, after TK had arrived back from his shift, he had started to talk excitedly about Einstein's Theory of Relativity and everything that involves the whole thing.

He was sure he fell in love again as each minute passed.

Carlos was punctual, but finding out he got ready for every appointment about an hour earlier was surreal for TK. And Carlos loved giving gifts to people just to make their day better ― TK had cried when, after a shift from hell, Carlos offered him a single dandelion, telling him to close his eyes and make a wish.

TK had kissed him deeply before blowing the dandelion.

And out of all the details TK could've learned about Carlos, one that would always be in red letters on the back of his mind is that Carlos could be quiet not only for his comfort but for the comfort of others. And, although it had been transparent with all of the mess and pain in Carlos' eyes when they talked after the meeting on the Farmer's Market, TK had noticed it on small moments through the days.

Carlos wouldn't speak up about his feelings or open up to anybody. He would be in pain, miserable, and silent, not wanting to bother or worry anyone around him.

He had gotten so used to it through the years that TK wasn't surprised when Carlos seemed shocked that he had noticed something was up.

The thing is that TK paid attention. To Carlos more than anyone, indeed, he had learned a few details that he knew Carlos himself didn't know, like how the cop would talk to himself when he thought no one was looking. Or how his lips would tramble a little every time he was going out, or how he would bite his tongue when the concentration was taking over his worries.

There was also that permanent wrinkle on the top of his nose that would deepen whenever he was confused and even more when he was worried. His eyebrows would follow the movement when he was emotional, and he would press his lips together when he got speechless ― and TK loved to kiss it away and watch as his face melted under his touch.

TK was lucky enough to say that he knew Carlos behind all the quietness and politeness ― he knew the lows, the fears, and the clever jokes.

That's why he knew something was wrong when they were driving back home from Judd and Grace's house on a Saturday afternoon, the sun already setting on the horizon.

Carlos hadn't drunk, not a sip, and seemed to be enjoying the company, the talk even if he was quieter than usual, and the kids ― the Vega twins really had fallen in love with him after the sandstorm. Yet, the man had given TK the car keys as they were leaving the house and didn't say much before walking around the car and taking the passager's seat.

Carlos loved to drive, and TK usually only took the wheel when his boyfriend chose to drink on their night out. He didn't do questions, though, and got in the car, taking Carlos' hand in his and pressing a kiss to his knuckles.

The cop smiled at him, almost thankfully, and then looked out his window.

It was a thirty-minute drive, which had never been a problem for the both of them for some reason, loved to take car rides whenever they could. Ten minutes in the vehicle, though, TK noticed that Carlos was moving quite too much, his hands gripping his pants and his leg bouncing against the floor. His brown eyes wouldn't focus, either, and he would swallow dryly more times in a minute than anyone should.

He wanted to ask if everything was okay, but Carlos beat him to it.

"Stop the car," he asked, his voice seeming to be stuck on his throat. TK frowned worriedly at him but did as he was asked, turning the wheel and parking the car on the curb and watching his boyfriend as his mind seemed to race, and he didn't know what to do.

TK didn't have to wait a second until Carlos was opening the door and walking away from the car, crossing the flower field they'd stopped beside and not looking back at TK, looking too scared to do that. His legs seemed to work automatically, and TK quickly snapped out of his worried state to realize what the hell was going on when Carlos walked towards the empty gazebo further on the field.

Carlos kept walking, his palms feeling sweaty and his feet seeming to work mechanically. He didn't stare at anything around him, his eyes were unfocused, his mouth seemed to have dried up, and he couldn't even hear anything but the thin, high-pitched whistle inside his ears.

The cop found himself walking towards a little empty gazebo, groping the air unconsciously to find the small gate and then opening it and not even bothering to close it before he placed himself against the wall, leaning almost vainly on it. He took a few deep breaths, the warm spring air entering his lungs and seeming to hurt, but he didn't really care.

Carlos closed his eyes, feeling the world and his head spin a few times. His brain could only say "too many people, too many people, too long," but Carlos couldn't utter a single word or move.

Not even when he noticed a movement next to him and could assume that someone was stooping down. He wasn't sure, and he couldn't be sure at that moment. He didn't want to think about it or anything else in the world.

It was when the person sat down next to him, also leaning their head against the wall, that he could connect the dots to the smell of perfume his boyfriend always wore. The other man didn't say anything, just bent his knees and put one of his arms over his legs, and looked straight ahead.

TK knew him well enough to figure that he hated to be seen in such a vulnerable situation.

"I..." Carlos muttered, swallowing hard and looking breathless. "A lot of people, I..." he interrupted himself, feeling the tears that hadn't been falling fill his eyes and roll down his cheeks.

His lips trembled, and he felt frustrated then. Carlos threw his head back, knowing that it would hit the wall. It was then that TK finally faced him and placed one of his hands on his boyfriend's hand that was still on the floor while the other seemed to pull at his hair.

"It hurts to breathe..." Carlos said, then sobbing. TK's grip on his hand got more solid, and Carlos wouldn't stop crying even if he wanted to ― he felt pathetic, overwhelmed, and he hated to be facing that fact about him in front of someone else.

TK inhaled deeply before saying anything.

"You're on a gazebo," the man began, his voice sweet. "There's nothing here but the two of us and a plant I don't know the name of, but you should," he said, and Carlos could hear a small smile in his voice. His hand let go of his hair, and he began to breathe slowly. "There are only the two of us here. And the stars."

Carlos took a deep breath. Once, twice, three times― just him and TK. Just him and TK. It was all right. Everything was fine.

He held his boyfriend's hand weakly, and TK made sure to squeeze it a little. He was there, just him, and everything was fine. He could breathe, there was air, and there was nobody else but him and the man he loved right beside him.

TK didn't say a word, his thumb caressing the back of Carlos' hand and his eyes analyzing each one of his breaths as he breathed just as slowly. His heart was pounding on his chest, and he had a few questions, but it was alright ― everything was fine, and they had time to talk about it.

The minutes went on like this, quietly, until Carlos, a little calmer but still with a knot in his throat, opened his eyes, swallowing hard and analyzing his surroundings warily. His brown eyes seemed alarmed, rimmed, and his breathing was still shaken.

"Allamanda," he said, then, his voice weak and hoarse. His breathing was smooth now, and TK smiled as he noticed it, even though he hadn't understood what Carlos had said until he gestured toward the flowers with his head.

TK chuckled quietly, amused that his boyfriend actually knew what the flowers were, and leaned his head against the wall again. They stood there for some time ― Carlos couldn't tell how long ― until his breathing returned to normal, and his ears were whistled low enough that he could hear around him.

"Sorry," he said, and TK turned his head, still leaning against the wall. "For this. I had no reason and― and I just..."

"Carlos," the paramedic called in a low voice, interrupting him before he could blame himself or try to explain what he wasn't ready to. "It's all right. You don't have to apologize or justify anything. It happened, that's fine," TK said, confident. Carlos swallowed hard. "It's okay, babe. I promise."

Carlos nodded but didn't seem too confident in agreeing with TK's words. TK looked at some spot in front of him again, and Carlos let his head fall until he was staring at his lap, his hand over his stretched legs and his mind racing with wild thoughts. He inhaled deeply, closed his eyes, and threw his head back, leaning on the wall.

"I've never told anybody," Carlos said, then, all of a sudden. TK turned his head in his boyfriend's direction, bending it a bit with the piece of given information. "About this. The disorder or the crisis," he explained, and TK frowned with worry. "Not even Michelle."

TK waited, not wanting Carlos to shut down with any questions. After a minute or two, he spoke up again.

"I feel pathetic," Carlos said, a humorless chuckle leaving his closed lips. "I know I shouldn't because it's perfectly normal and everything, but..." Carlos swallowed dryly, his lips twisting in some shade of sadness. "I'm an adult. I should've left this in my teenage years, shouldn't I?"

TK didn't answer but thanked God it was a rhetorical question. He didn't quite know what to say.

He couldn't help but ask, though.

"How long you've been hiding these crises?" he asked, and Carlos chuckled humorlessly again. It caused TK's stomach to wrap.

"Since they began," he replied, and TK closed his eyes as if it was a painful truth to face. He squeezed Carlos' hand, and the other man just shrugged. "I was going to tell my father, even before I came out to them, but I heard a conversation over some documentary about mental disorders," Carlos said, and TK didn't like his tone. "I should really stop listening to what he and mom talk about. It would save me mental health," he joked, and TK bit his tongue.

Carlos wanted to cry, but he didn't think he could.

"I don't think they realized, you know? I mean, everyone makes jokes about it," Carlos said, then. "They didn't mean harm, I think. But they were laughing," he told TK, turning his head and not really looking around. "It was― eating me alive, and..." he chuckled again. "They were laughing."

TK squeezed his hand.

"So you figured that would be their reaction," TK supposed.

"Theirs and anybody's," Carlos said. "The only ones who take mental health seriously are the ones to whom it's lacking."

And TK didn't have an answer for that because there wasn't one. He could see what Carlos meant when he said that his parents meant no harm ― mental disorders were only a thing if you knew well enough to understand that sick people didn't want attention or were being dramatic; they just wanted peace.

And it was only genuine when someone that mattered hurt themselves over it, and TK knew that. He had experienced it himself, his mother being usually too skeptical to believe that someone wouldn't have control over their feelings.

Until TK had lost control over himself and his heart had lost the strength to beat for the first time.

Carlos had skepticism surrounding him when it came to taboos such as mental disorders ― and having one wasn't quite the solution to deal with it. His family didn't think it was something more than some drama or lack of control over emotions, and even the best-intended comments could hurt when they were only meant to be seen as a joke.

And TK couldn't see how it must have been to Carlos to feel like it for over a decade ― like a joke. Like who he was and the problems he had were too much, inconvenient, uncomfortable for someone he loved to deal with.

From cover to cover, Carlos had felt like a burden to his family. And although it wasn't their intention to make it like it, the fact they didn't seem to be open enough for Carlos to come to them still twisted something inside TK's soul.

"Hey?" Carlos called beside him, and TK lifted his eyes to find his boyfriend's sad face and closed eyes. "Does anybody else need to know about it?"

TK caressed his thumb over Carlos' skin.

"Not if you don't want them to," he replied. Carlos sighed.

"But?" he asked, and TK's heart swollen with how much he knew how to read him.

"It would be nice if you talked to Mitchell," TK said. "So she can have your back at work, you know?" Carlos sighed. "I know you've dealt with it all your life, babe, but someone has to have your back. Especially in our field," TK explained, and Carlos knew he was right. It didn't make things easier. "You know no one would laugh, don't you? And no one would ignore it, either," the paramedic continued, and Carlos weighted his head forward again.

"That's what I'm afraid of," Carlos said, then. "I've been prepared for the laughing and the ignoring my whole life; what do I do when it doesn't come?" he asked, and TK felt his heart clench inside his chest. "Besides, letting people know just..."

"Makes you feel a weird thing you can't really name?" TK guessed. "Something between guilt, regret, and stupidity and not the relief they've promised you?"

Carlos chucked again, and TK followed him. The cop nodded, and his lips trembled a bit.

"Yeah," he agreed. "Something like that."

A beat of silence, and then TK asked.

"Do you regret that I know it?" he said, and Carlos only closed his eyes again. There was no judgment or expectation in his boyfriend's voice, which is much more comfortable to answer.

"Honestly?" TK nodded. Carlos sighed. "Yes," he said, and TK pressed his lips together in a sad smile. "But I, uh...―" Carlos babbled. "I'm glad I can ask you for a hug now," he said, and TK widely smiled when he noticed the words. Carlos turned his head up to him, smiling expectantly, and the paramedic didn't lose a second before hugging him close to his chest.

Although Carlos was taller, TK knew he loved to be held close to someone and be involved in their arms as if he fit in them. Which, when it came to the two of them, the affirmative was nothing but correct ― Carlos fit in TK's arms seamlessly.

They stayed there for a while more, with Carlos breathing slowly against TK's neck and feeling his heartbeats and TK caressing his fingers through Carlos' curls and nape.

When they got back to the car, Carlos was almost sleeping on the passenger's seat with his head pressed to the window, and TK smiled at the cuteness of the scene and the peace on Carlos' face. He didn't say much, not to say anything, all the way back, sniffing a bit and taking some deep breaths.

TK could relate if being honest. Sharing such a personal thing, that something that should lift the weight out of your shoulders isn't as pretty as people make it seem. It's excruciating, tiring, and it feels like all the power you once had over your lack of control vanishes for a while.

It isn't exactly about being vulnerable, but about how much you can pretend something isn't real if no one else knows about it. And, when someone else does know, it feels a bunch more genuine than it was before ― even if the pain was already breathtaking.

As soon as TK parked in front of their house, he took Carlos' hand in his, squeezing it lightly to wake him from his superficial sleep. The cop opened his eyes a bit confused, breathing in deeply before looking out the window and then turning to his boyfriend, who smiled sweetly at him.

Wordlessly, the pair got out of the car and made their way to the front door, Carlos always a step behind him as they went up the stairs. TK couldn't point out if it was Carlos' habitual protectiveness towards those who he cared about or some kind of embarrassment over the things he wished he didn't mind about, but TK decided it wasn't something he shouldn't ask. Not then, at least.

They walked around their house silently, taking their shoes off before walking to the living room, where TK put his cellphone and wallet over the coffee table. Carlos seemed scared, hiding in the shadows around the corners, almost unsure of what he was doing there ― and, damn, it hurt TK to see that. Even if the paramedic knew it had nothing to do with him or the two of them, seeing the man he loved so out of place in their own house was a dagger to the heart.

TK wanted to suggest something, but Carlos seemed so stuck in his head that he wasn't sure he would be heard. So, he went to the bathroom downstairs silently, taking more time than necessary to wash his hands just so he could see if Carlos would move. When he went back to the living room, his boyfriend wasn't there anymore.

Knowing that he probably needed some space to deal with what happened and with the fact that TK knew about it all, the paramedic found a few things to do downstairs. Putting more water in a bottle to put in the fridge, wash the pair of plates and coffee mugs they've left there in the morning, answer a few texts on their group chat and some others from Grace asking if they've made a safe ride home.

He also checked all locks and windows before taking his phone and slowly climb up the stairs, turning off the lights as he went to their room. There, Carlos was still in the bathroom, and TK plugged his charger before taking off his shirt and pair of jeans.

As he laid down, he could hear the shower on and smiled a bit that Carlos had enough disposition to let himself relax around warm steam. TK sighed, sinking under the covers and closing his eyes for a second to let his thoughts settle around his head.

A second might have been longer, though, when he opened his eyes to the turned-off bedroom lights and the only light source being the semi-open bathroom door from where he could see Carlos' reflection moving a bit. His heavy eyelids wouldn't let him sit up or even move too much, but he used all the strength he had to stay awake and stare as his boyfriend left the bathroom and turned that light off, too.

His head was down as he walked to their bed, and he seemed to hesitate for a second before swallowing hard and turning his body a bit, his direction changing from his to TK's side of the bed. The paramedic waited, just to see how carefully Carlos took the blankets off his body and then moved to crawl up the bed.

The mattress deepened, and TK inhaled sharply ― which made Carlos realize he was awake but didn't stop him from doing whatever it was. TK tried to see something in the dark, but Carlos' warm hand over his naked waist caused every nerve to relax, and his eyelids fell heavy once again. He was a little more alert, though, his worried side speaking loudly.

Carlos put himself between TK's legs, his body half over his, and wrapped his arms around the paramedic's waist, sighing heavily and placing his head in the middle of TK's abdomen. Instinctively, TK's hand was in Carlos' curls, and the cop felt like he could cry just with that touch again.

"Am I hurting you?" Carlos whispered in the dark. "Do you want me to move?"

"Nah," TK grumbled. "You okay?" he asked, and Carlos just stood quiet. TK didn't pressure him into saying anything, perfectly comfortable with whatever Carlos wanted to talk about.

The cop closed his eyes for a second and then exhaled wearily against TK's stomach. He moved his legs to tangle it with TK's and the blankets, the coldness of one bringing relief to his racing nerves.

"Not quite," he said. "I'll be."

TK hugged him the best he could manage to in their position, caressing Carlos' bare skin in comfort.

"Don't rush yourself into it," TK murmured. Carlos closed his eyes, ignoring a bit of a headache on the side of his temple.

"Won't," Carlos said, and TK knew he was telling the truth.

Because Carlos was kind, sweet, loving, and the easiest person to love. He's the kind of person the paramedic tried to avoid because TK simply knew that he would fall in love with him ― it was Carlos, after all, and TK knew better than trying to fool himself with the premise he could only do casual.

TK searched for questions without answers, and Carlos had all the answers TK wanted to find the questions to. He was pretty sure he could discover why the sky is blue in the brown of Carlos' eyes. He could find out why the languages change just by kissing his lips. The reason fire would burn would be written over Carlos' skin, and the sea could be explained but never compared to how deeply Carlos felt things.

TK was curious, indeed, but he didn't mind waiting for the answers if it meant he would discover Carlos page by page, breath after breath.

Carlos, deep down, couldn't wait to be deciphered, too. And he knew things would be better and would be good if he tried to see himself through somebody else's lenses. It would take time, effort, and much more talking than he liked to think about ― but it would be alright.

Because they didn't have to wonder if they'd be alone while trying to be better.

Because they didn't have to wonder what it would be like to share some of the weight.

Because the answers weren't written, and they could always wonder what they were.

Because, for now, it didn't hurt to breathe.

[ask-fantasy-sanders-sides]

Hey Roman, Logan! Side note: we just found out you guys are Fate Touched. So. That explains quite a bit. Ask her radiance if you wanna know more :) - 🗡

      ”So I can assume you already know about Virgil's situation?" Logan asks, frowning slightly as he tries to puzzle out what all he should say in this situation. Goddess or not, he's not sure if it's safe to tell her the extent of what he's seen…

      Eilistraee nods, "I know about his Sorcery. —Do not worry, Logan. I wouldn't tell the Sisters or their cults unless I had to. If I was planning on handing him over to be executed by the Gods, I would not have helped you save him."

      Logan finds himself believing her. But, before he can let the existential dread of what they’re discussing — Which amounts, most probably, to interplanar treason — settle in, he has to comment,

      "I don't remember telling you my name."

      Eilistraee smiles at that, like she knows something he doesn't. Which, Logan will reluctantly admit, is possible in this specific circumstance.

      "Virgil has told me about each of you. —And, of course, you and I are already acquainted." She smiles at Roman, who nods. 

      "I hope you aren't insulted that I haven't visited in… over a century?"

      "We were both busy~" She teases, as if a century is anything to a Goddess. 

      "I'm not sure what is going on." Logan admits, getting them back on track once he's come to terms with the fact that he is, in fact, doing this.

      "By all means, almost everything I've seen him do over these past few days should be impossible. He's wielded Mythal magic, changed the flow of time, and experienced more frequent Wild Surges than any wild magic Sorcerer I have ever heard of. I thought, initially, that he had been born with the power... But, if those spell-scars are any indication, he was not. Still, I've never seen spellscars of that shape or size."

      "And they're angrier than before!" Roman cuts in, "I had seen his arm under those bandages a few nights ago, and they didn't look nearly that bad. But we didn't encounter any wild magic between then and now, so I don't know how they could have gotten worse…?"

      "Virgil's current power is not something he was born with, that much is true." Eilistraee nods, "He was born with magic latent within him, but he purposefully pushed it down and ignored it. What he can do now stemmed from a disastrous encounter with Nethermancy, in which he was mutated by the Far Realm."

      Roman and Logan gasp, and Patton is hopelessly confused. He looks between the three spellcasters in the room, hoping one of them remembers that he is but a regular, mundane person.

      "...Ne...cro...mancy?"

      "No, Nether. Dark Magic." Roman stage-whispers, looking frightened. 

      Well, that clarifies nothing at all, Patton frowns, then turns to Logan,

      "Lo, you didn't mention that one the other day. I thought you said there were only eight?"

      “That is because Nethermancy no longer exists." Logan frowns. Eilistraee sighs and shakes her head,

      "As most things you will find tend to be… That is not entirely true. You know your magic comes from the Weave, yes?"

      All three of them nod at that, and Patton knows the beginning of a lecture when he hears one. He tries his best to keep listening as Eilistraee continues,

      "You can visualize the Weave as a spiderweb. Many threads tangle together to form it, more densely interconnected in some areas and more sparse in others. When you cast a spell, you are plucking on the web. Lesser tricks only jostle one string, while great feats of magic pull on the points where many threads are connected.” 

      "So, the less strings we pull, the lower the spell's level?" Roman muses. She nods.

      “Mystra is the spider who sits at the center, building and repairing the web, feeling the vibrations of all those who touch it and biting away those who pull too hard. After all, if you pull too harshly, the web will unravel… But the web is not the source of magic in the Universe. It is just where you mortals can syphon it from. Magic is something that has always existed, long before the gods, and will continue long after us.”

      Logan nods, "The early humanoids who tried to hone magic before the Weave was woven were all destroyed, and turned into the first liches."

      "So Mystra, with some help from my Father, created the Weave as a blanket." Eilistraee smiles, "A safety net, that holds raw power back and converts it into something manageable -- something mortals can access."

      Logan smirks, “Which is why Elves were the first humanoids to master magic. They had an insider.” 

      "So like a sieve? For flour?" Patton asks, and the goddess grins at the visual. Logan nods, almost impulsively taking over the lesson,

      "Sure. Now, imagine pulling a wire on that sieve out of place. There is a hole for more coarse clumps to fall through, yes?” Patton nods, and Logan smiles at him, “That is what we are doing when we cast spells. When you pull on a thread, a bit of this raw power seeps through, but the gap only releases as much as that thread once covered. The less you ask for, the less you will receive. And if you don’t cast a spell correctly, the thread isn’t pulled at all, and no magic happens.”

      ...Now Logan frowns, beginning to catch on to Eilistraee’s point.

      "But, Nethermancy was not like that.” Logan muses aloud, “It stemmed from the Shadow Weave; the warped copy of the Weave Mystra's sister Shar invented, by mixing magic with corruption from the Far Realm."

      "The Shadow Weave is the space in-between the windows in the spiderweb. The darkness between the threads. Hence, it's name." Eilistraee explains, "When you reach into it, there is nothing to decide how much you take out. And, since you have not disturbed the strings, Mystra cannot even sense that you’re there. It is lethal to reach your hand into raw magic like this, in the same way it was lethal to cast before the Weave was constructed."

      "Which is why it was never active." Logan adds, cautiously, waiting for her to correct him. "Supposedly, the Blue Flame burned it out during the Spellplague, before it's creator ever used it. Or, so everyone was led to believe…?"

      Eilistraee nods, "The Shadow Weave was never destroyed. Shar lost control of it, but it still exists alongside the original. A spiderweb without a spider... And, by now, you are aware that my brother's kin do not follow the same rules when it comes to the lethality of raw magic."

      "So, he was exposed to this Shadow Weave somehow, and now he keeps tapping into it on accident?" Roman frowns.

      "Yes. Without either Sister Goddess's influence to limit him, Virgil has tethered himself to the spaces between. Now he pulls at it without trying, weakening the weave around him and accessing magic Mystra outlawed decades ago."

      Eilistraee turns to Logan, suddenly very serious, 

      "You've done well to teach him control, but it is still something he will have to learn. He is the only thing moderating his contact with raw magic. He has no safety net to protect him if he takes too much, and no way to stop himself from doing it. This is not your usual pupil whose spell will fizzle out if they fail, his will combust. He must learn to hone his ability."

      "I can teach him." Logan nods resolutely, already determined to see this through to the end. Eilistraee frowns. 

      "There are already many in your world who know about his mutation. Many wish to use him as a weapon on a scale you cannot imagine, and many more wish to destroy him altogether. People who will show no mercy when they come for him, and anyone who would protect him.” 

      Eilistraee turns to address all three of them, making an imposing figure where she towers in the middle of the room, 

      “You will face more peril at his side than you have ever read about in your history books, and his powers will bring untold destruction if you fail. Are you so sure you wish to involve yourself in this?"

      "You'll find I already have." Logan stares her down, hoping he is more stubborn than she is, "I am not going to give up on him now. I knew it was going to be difficult when I first asked him to join me."

      (So, that might be a little white lie. He didn’t know it would be so difficult that a literal Goddess would warn him to pack up and go home, but… Well, no one is going to tear him away from a project he’s already started, nor a friend who needs his help. And, after all, Logan doesn’t know anyone more qualified than himself to teach Virgil how to use magic.)

      Eilistraee seems to mull over his words for a moment. Roman and Patton are keeping quiet, either letting Logan speak for them as the group’s leader or too exhausted/shocked to say anything.

      ...And, after an excruciating several minutes, the Goddess smiles.

      "Very well then. I entrust his safety to you, Professor Logan." Eilistraee — the Goddess. What is today?! — smiles, as if as amused by the situation as Logan is winded by it. 

      "Don't fail him."

      "We won't!" Patton cheers, elbowing Logan's thigh to shake him out of his surprised stupor. Eilistraee grins.

      "We?"

      "Yep! We're a bit of a package deal~" Roman nods, smiling at the other two. "And, I mean... if Logan goes on some sort of super perilous adventure and doesn't invite his resident literal Celestial, I don't even know what I would have to do! The sheer disrespect? I would throw a fit." 

      "You are both cordially invited to the 'super perilous adventure.'” Logan rolls his eyes, “Not that either of you ever need an invitation to insert yourselves into my travels..." 

      Logan tries his best not to smile, ignoring their laughter at either side of him.

      "You will need more than just the three of you, I'm afraid." Eilistraee smiles, 

      "I have full confidence in you, but the fact remains that Virgil will also need a mentor who is, themselves, a Sorcerer. There are some skills that can only be taught from experience."

      "Where are we supposed to find another Sorcerer?! It's rare enough that we found the one!" Roman whines, making Eilistraee grins.

      "You are willing to aid a man you just met last week in a plot against the natural order, but you don’t think you can find one measly sorcerer?”

      “Those are two totally different tasks! —Protecting people is my very specific skillset!! Finding them is not my job!” Roman blushes and pouts, and Eilistraee downright laughs. She shakes her head,

      “Oh, I was just teasing, d'anthe~ Don't worry: I think he will find you, soon enough." 

      Eilistrae lays a hand on Roman’s cheek, “And speaking of you... I sense something is troubling you?”

      Roman frowns for a moment. He sends an uneasy look at Logan and Patton...then sighs. 

      (If they’re all getting involved in Virgil’s surprise cosmic destiny, he supposes he might as well let them in on his…)

      “It’s my Mother.” Roman sighs, 

      “I know she’s been ailing for a long while now, but… Something’s happened to her while I was gone, I can feel it. Something’s wrong. But my powers don’t seem to have changed at all, so...I can’t really tell.”

      Eilistraee frowns, and Roman hops in again before she can speak, “I-I would contact her, but she still can’t speak to me! I don’t know how I’m supposed to help! I assume Mama has more information once we get to town, but it’s been killing me to wait in the dark. I know there are rules about how much you can meddle, but… Throw me a bone here?”

      That gives the Goddess pause. She seems to debate something for a moment… Then nods.

      “I can lend my aid to you for tonight, so long as you remain on land under my blessing. But, Sune is still in a very weakened state... Expect one of your Dreams tonight, little Prince.”

      Roman smiles softly, trying to mask his spark of disappointment.

      “...Thank you. Anything is better than no contact! But… I was never very good at deciphering those things.”

      “If you need help deciphering your visions, you can always ask one of my Dark Ladies, or one of your Heartwarders. But, your Mother is a goddess of emotion; It is unlikely any of them will be able to help you more than yourself…” 

      Eilistraee gives him a sympathetic smile, “...Or, maybe, your usual companion in that place?”

      “I doubt that.” Roman smiles back, more amused than he is dejected. 

      “It’s been a long time since I’ve shared a dream with my brother. I’m starting to think he’s purposefully ignoring them… And, to be honest, I wouldn’t put that past him.”

      “That may be so, but you two must reunite soon.” Eilistraee warns him with an unexpected sincerity, “Your Mother needs you both, now more than ever. You are aware that your Fate is joined with these three, but he has a part to play in all of this, too. He always has.”

      “My conversations with the whispers always seem to stem back to him, that much is for sure!” Roman grumbles, to himself more than anything. Eilistraee pats his shoulder.

      “The guards will lead you back to House De’anonen. The road ahead of you is long and perilous, and I don’t expect to be the last to tell you so… Now, get some rest!” 

      Roman nods, much too tired to argue on that point. Some young women in silver robes come to lead them out of the temple, and Roman and Patton meander after them out of the room. Logan follows behind them slowly... But, he pauses at the door. 

      He turns back to Eilistraee, and asks lowly, 

      “Nethermancy from the Far Realm…” he hums, still not quite sure what he’s trying to remember when he asks,

      “That he encountered here? Outside of the Underdark?”

      ...Eilistrae doesn’t answer right away. 

      A sour look crosses her face for a moment. She sighs,

      “Your curiosity is your greatest strength, Logan. It always has been.” She smiles, turning her back to him to exit the room through the farther door, “But you, of all people, should know that poking at what writhes in the grass is a dangerous game.”

      She walks out of the room, her voice echoing behind her as she disappears down a long, shadowy hallway, 

      “Be sure you are prepared for what’s hiding there.”

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Ask 97     ( @sjrose1217 , @snowydragon10 , @amazonprimebox )

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Most Recent Recap, in case you feel like you missed something!

Available for questions: Logan, Roman, and Patton! (Virgil is asleep)

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Eilistraee makes her exit as the party gets ready to sleep for the night, with few hours of night remaining and little energy to keep their eyes open any longer.

Now they have some hints for what is to come, but will they be able to put the pieces together? Or will the dangers she warned them about get the better of them...?

[adorablele]

anon requested: Could I please get a little thing where you get married to yuta? And like he's so excited about it. And you basically sneak out and do it without anyone knowing. That would be so lovely 💚

↬ pairing: knight!nakamoto yuta x reader (prince!jaehyun x reader but they’re not the main pair) ↬ genre: fluff, fantasy (?), a little bit of medieval!au, royal!au, knight!au, prince!au ↬ word count: 2262 ↬ summary: you elope with the knight yuta ↬ a/n: I finally have something out after a million years </3 I tried doing a medieval!au but I’m not quite sure how well I did- the basis is that their royalty lmao. and this is the first fic I have for yuta,, hip hip hooray! ALSO 190614 YUTA IS ICONIC AND HE WAS INSPO FOR THIS WOLE THING PLEASE HIS RED MAN BUN chile, anyways please enjoy <3

You stood in front of your fiance, clothes thin against your skin. The lantern on his table barely lit the room, highlighting the slope of his nose and apples of his cheeks. Your eyes darted along the lines of his perfectly shaped brows, then down to his always warm eyes that slitted beautifully into crescents when he smiled, accompanied by cute dips in his cheeks. And to you, he smiled (unlike his stern frown to his soldiers). To you, he laughed (unlike the deafening silence to his war council). To you, he spoke with care (which was a little more loving than his tone to the villagers). To everyone, he was your strong prince–soon to be king–whose heart was in your hands, you: his doting significant other. 

But it was not love.

“Goodnight,” you quietly told him. 

He placed his pen down and looked up at you. Those warm eyes, so welcoming, so far, so distant. Jaehyun smiled at you, one that had men and women alike swooning at his feet. His response was just as soft as your’s, two syllables, a whisper that barely reached the walls of the dim room. “Goodnight.” With a gentle poke against his dimples, you left. 

For a minute or two, you sat in your room– sorry, your shared room, with a thrumming heart. The ring that the prince had presented to you lay cold on your bedside table, off of your finger and as lonely as the room. Your grip tightened on the small sack of belongings in your lap, nervousness tickling your restless fingers. You waited for a count of five before you heard the rehearsed knock against the stone of your window sill. ‘He’s here,’ you thought to yourself. 

Your body moved as you had practiced. You made small, stealthy steps over the floor as you adjusted the pillows to make it look as if there was someone sleeping in the bed before you took one last glance at the ring that bound you to the prince in a few hours...or, it would if you stayed. With a melancholy smile, you whispered, “I wish you the best,” before jumping out the window. 

Yuta caught you in his arms, effortlessly holding you despite your unannounced fall. He stood there under the moonlight, hair satin red contrasting to the black coat draped over his shoulders. 

“A warning would’ve been nice,” he chuckled. 

You couldn’t stop the curve of your lips. “Let’s go before we get caught.”

He placed you down, then lent you a hand to help you up on his horse, Win. His hands were warm and rough against yours, but nevertheless more comforting than the awkward grip of Jaehyun. You wrapped your arms around his waist, grip tight as if he’d drift away from you any moment. A month ago, it would’ve hurt your pride to have your arms so snug against the rude, arrogant, quick-witted knight in front of you. ‘How annoying,’ you thought, ‘it took me a month to fall in love with this man.’ One month. 

“Ready my love?”

Your heart palpitated. “Did I not tell you to get going?”

Once again he chuckled, the sound light and hearty, cutting through the silence of the night. The sound settled in your ears before getting whisked away by the wind when Win started galloping farther, and farther, away from the stone palace. One month. One month ago you moved into that palace and you were instructed to get to know Jung Jaehyun. Afterall, he was the prince you were supposed to marry by the end of the month. You’re supposed to marry him tomorrow. Jaehyun was someone so ethereal that you truly felt that you were in a fairytale, but he did not love you and you did not love him. Instead, you fell in love with the hot-headed knight, Nakamoto Yuta, the knight of the Prince.  

Hours seemed to pass until the two of you finally arrived at your destination, or you think it’s the destination because Win stopped moving. The two of you were in the middle of the forest, trees hovering above you, cascading long shadows across the ground. You could hear nothing but the faint run of water. (“Listen to the water,” the sweet old baker advised, “it’ll tell you if you’re in the right spot.”) Of course, when you and Yuta were sneaking out into the village, you didn’t understand the old lady. It made sense now. The stream seemed to be whispering to you, beckoning you into the forest. 

“We’re here,” you announced, stopping Yuta from continuing to pester the horse to move. 

“We are?” he asked, glancing around hesitantly at the foreboding cluster of trees surrounding the two of you. 

“Yes.”

Yuta took a moment to stare at you before he hopped off. He then lended you a hand, helping you off Win who whinnied when you got off. 

“I suppose we should get going,” Yuta suggested, hand gentle against yours. Again, he glanced around, “but where are we supposed to go?”

“There.” You pointed to a path between the trees that you don’t exactly remember being there, but you could feel it in your gut that that’s where the two of you were supposed to go. 

He gave your hand a light squeeze before nodding, “Let’s go.” 

With each step it seemed like the trees parted, creating a trail to–you assumed–the stream. The whisper of the stream kept its quiet tone as the two of you walked, but stopped when you found it.  Around you, the air felt different; cooler, calmer, tranquil. The trees closed up the path behind you which completed a ring of trees securing the two of you in the area. ‘Guess there’s no turning back,’ you thought. You had no reason to turn back, though. In front of you was the smooth-sailing stream, glimmering like the stars in the sky. You tilted your head, looking closer at the water. Is it...

“Is it...glowing?” you murmured, turning to Yuta who was mystified at the glow of the rock. 

His brows furrowed, “So I’m not imagining it?”

You shook your head, looking back at the small glow of the lake. You jumped closer to Yuta when the ground started to shake, two flat rocks surfacing the stream. 

“What’s happening?” you yelped, moving even closer into Yuta’s arms. 

He backed away, causing you to back away too. “Shouldn’t you know? You’re the one who said this was the spot?”

You glared at him, “Are you putting the blame on me?”

“What? No-”

He didn’t finish his sentence, mouth clamping shut when he saw the grin growing on your face. He playfully rolled his eyes at you.

“Did you just roll your eyes at royalty?”

“If I did?” he challenged, pulling you impossibly closer.

“Well, that’s not a very nice thing to do,” you teased, nose brushing against his. 

His lips curved into a playful grin, “My deepest apologies, love.” His eyes gleamed with life, brown irises swirling with happiness. 

Your lips hovered over his, “Are you really sorry?”

Before he could utter yes and kiss you, he suddenly pulled away. You watched in confusion, not only at his actions, but at your own. You felt your body move against your will, walking farther away from the stream and towards a niche in the trees. You had forgotten about the glowing rocks, the living trees, the mystical atmosphere; apparently it didn’t forget you. 

Yuta was confused as to why he suddenly didn’t have control over his body and was walking towards the glowing rock in the middle of the clear stream. He watched as you turned to walk into a space that the trees created. He wanted to shout after you, heart racing that maybe you’re leaving him, but he knew that you loved him, right? ‘Of course they do,’ he chided to himself, ‘they ran away from a life of luxury to run away with you.’ That thought made him smile. 

Jaehyun’s parents told him, one day, that they found a suitor for him. Yuta remembered how Jaehyun abided by his parents’ wishes despite the fact that Jaehyun already gave his heart to someone else. He remembered the first day that the suitor–you–walked into the palace. You held yourself with confidence, with the proper posture of a royal. You smiled obediently to your parents, to Jaehyun’s parents and you simply glazed your eyes over him. You then nodded cordially to Jaehyun who returned the gesture. His parents gushed with yours how the two of you were a perfect couple, and he used to scoff at that. He used to scoff at how the commoners would praise the sight of you and Jaehyun; a match made in heaven. But you were used to striving to be what everyone expected of you, that was all you knew. 

(‘What do you want?’ he asked you one day. 

‘To run away,’ you replied.

‘Then we shall.’ )

Run away. Yuta chuckled to himself. You wanted to run away, so how did he end up here? Standing on a glowing rock with the vows that he spent so long writing slipping from his memory; grinning like a lovestruck maiden at the future that only existed if you were in it; heart palpitating in his chest as he awaited for you to return from the trees; praying that you hadn’t run away, that you still loved him as much as you had told you did. 

“They still love you,” he announced aloud, “they wouldn’t abandon you in a forest.”

“Maybe I would,” you cheekily replied, appearing from the trees.

His snarky remark fainted on his tongue at the sight of you. The moon lit magnificently around you, accenting your graceful figure in the darkness of the night. You were wearing the exact same clothes as before, your hair was styled the exact same way (though maybe a little brushed), but most importantly, you still held the same amount of love (or perhaps more) in the soul of eyes. He didn’t realize that his mouth was ajar, nor did he realize that you started walking towards him until you lifted his chin. 

“Mouth closed my knight,” you smiled.

He swallowed, mouth shutting before opening again, “What took you so long?”

You raised a brow, “You’re the one who kept me waiting!”

“Me?”

“Yes! You kept contemplating with yourself,” you frowned, looking down at your tightly clasped hands, “I thought you didn’t- I thought you didn’t love me anymore.”

His heart broke at the doubt floating in your words. His calloused fingers intertwined with your soft ones. “Don’t ever think that.”

You stared up at him with teary eyes.

“I love you,” he softly, yet firmly, declared. It resonated throughout the forest, brushing through the grass and traveling up the roots of the trees. His rock glowed brighter, but he didn’t pay any mind to this, instead, he cupped one side of your face, thumb wiping away the tears that started to fall from your eyes. He started to ramble about all the things he loved about you, and all the times he realized that he loved you. Like when you fell off Win the first time you tried riding it, shoved Yuta barely a centimeter before trying again and again until you were able to ride Win like he was your own horse; like when you didn’t make fun of him for not gaining a proper education as a child–as he had been a poor boy who was better at fighting than talking–and you were patient in educating him after he refused to have anyone else teach him besides you; like when you ignored him and did petty pranks on him for a week because he gifted you a dessert you didn’t like (he didn’t mean to order the wrong thing). 

“Be quiet,” you cried, “since when did you talk so much?”

“You rubbed off on me,” he laughed, nose nuzzling against yours.

For a moment, the two of you stared into each other’s eyes. Yuta could see nothing but his future. 

“I love you too,” you whispered, “I love you so much.”

He sealed the deal by pressing his lips to yours. 

Both of the rocks below the two of you grew bright, almost as bright as the Sun. The trees grew taller, the stream flowed faster, and the wind started to howl. When your lungs started to scream for oxygen, you pulled away, forehead against his. The trees started to shorten to its size as before, the water flowed as normal, and the wind was back to its smooth sailing. The rocks were still below you, but they weren’t glowing anymore. 

It was done.

“We’re married,” you uttered in disbelief, tears still falling from your eyes. You were not a crybaby, so why did you keep crying?

“Are those tears of happiness?” he chuckled, brushing away your tears.

You playfully glared, “No, they’re tears of sadness because I’m bounding myself to the love of my life.”

“Can’t back out now,” he sighed, “you’re stuck with me.”

“How awful,” you laughed.

“I’m not sorry,” he shrugged.

“Just kiss me already.” Yuta did not need to be told twice.

The full Moon glowed silently in the sky. It would soon bid farewell and the Stars would follow mischievously as the Sun rose into the sky, ridding the world of secrets with its light. No one would know of what occurred the night before, no one but the Moon and the Stars. Don’t worry. They’re good at keeping secrets. 

[incognitoman1-2-3-4]

Observations - A K18 Short Story

A/N: To celebrate this blog turning three years old, I wanted to revisit an old Krillin & Eighteen story I had written some time ago and publish it here on my Tumblr with some minor improvements. If you would like to read it, I sincerely hope you enjoy it. Feedback is much appreciated! 

K18 Forever ❤️

The serene ocean tide crawled ever closer towards Eighteen as she patiently roamed through the latest issue of her favourite weekly fashion magazine. Enjoying her mid-morning reading session, she mentally noted what items of clothing she pined to purchase and which ones she wished she could erase from existence.

“Seriously, who would want to be seen in that?" She vented to herself, squinting her eyes in disdain at the eccentric patterns on the outfit.

She flicked over to the next page, carefully readjusting her sunglasses. Well, they weren't exactly her sunglasses. She had successfully snuck them out of Krillin's bedroom while he was resting. It was a good thing that he was such a heavy sleeper, as well as being extremely generous with his belongings.

Little did Eighteen know that Krillin had awoken from his deep slumber and was now standing by the porch of Kame House. He took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the refreshing summer air before deflating his chest back to normal size. A content smile gradually etched itself across his dry lips; Krillin's infatuated eyes admiringly mused over Eighteen.

Sitting alone by the ocean's edge, she appeared as angelic as ever. Her face emitted a unique elegance unrivalled by any other. Krillin attentively observed Eighteen's subtle body language; her relaxed posture was a rare, yet pleasant sight. He decided to make his presence known, promptly advancing towards the shoreline.

The sound of Krillin's muted footsteps instantly caught Eighteen’s attention. Choosing to cast her magazine aside, Eighteen flicked her sunglasses to the bridge of her nose, fervently chewing on her bottom lip; he looked as fine as ever.

Despite his initial protests, she was so glad that Krillin acquiesced to her relentless insistence that he should grow out his jet black hair. Better yet, since the summer weather had come around, sightings of him without a top were becoming more and more frequent, permitting herself to gaze upon his well-toned muscles in all their splendour.

Sadly for Eighteen, Krillin had clothed himself this morning with a t-shirt that she had bought for him on their most recent trip to the mainland. Regardless of whether her little monk was topless or not, she didn't care what anyone said or thought about his appearance. To her, Krillin was simply stunning.

"Finally decided to get out of bed, uh?" Eighteen cordially greeted Krillin as he rooted himself on her left side. He retaliated swiftly with a kiss on her warm cheek.

“Well, you know me. If I ever get the chance to have a lay-in, I'll take it." He assuredly replied, spotting that his sunglasses were loosely hanging off of Eighteen's ears, "I see you've stolen my sunglasses again.”

"Hey!" Eighteen asserted, raising her arms in defence, "I didn't steal your sunglasses. I'm just borrowing them.”

"I ain't complaining." He then proceeded to straighten his sunglasses up for her, before adding, "You actually look kinda cute with them on.”

Without saying a word, Eighteen showed her appreciation of Krillin's kind comment with a habitual gesture. A gesture he didn't see all too often. But when he did, it meant the world to him.

"I've noticed you do that from time-to-time.”

"Do what?" She tentatively asked, feeling as if she had suddenly entered a "deer in the headlights" type situation.

"Don't worry. It's nothing bad." Krillin reassured her with a warm timbre in his voice, "I've just noticed that whenever I give you a compliment or if you see something you like, you have this tendency to needlessly brush your hair aside.”

Eighteen eyes immediately darted up to where her right hand was currently placed. It was exactly as Krillin described. She instantly felt the soft blonde tangles that ran between her fingers. In an effort to combat her self-consciousness, she instinctually moved her hand unto her lap.

"Have you seriously never noticed?" He enquired, watching Eighteen's face grow slightly perplexed.

"Not really, no. But if it's weird, I'll stop.”

"Weird?" Krillin answered calmly, pulling his knees up to his chest, "Take it from me. That hair thing you do is far from weird. It's just a quirky habit you have. That's all.”

“Habit?"

"Yeah. Everyone has them." Krillin added, lifting his eyes to the cloudless blue sky above him.

At that split-second, Eighteen's concerns morphed into curiosity. Now that she gave it some consideration, Krillin did have some fairly odd traits of his own. Realising this, Eighteen violently crashed her hands together with excitement. The resounding clash of her hands drew Krillin's eyes away from the empty sky and unto a far more captivating sight.

"You know, you sometimes start to laugh nervously when I stare at you." Eighteen astutely remarked.

Shaking his head from side-to-side, Krillin firmly disagreed with a great amount of confidence, "Erm- I believe you're imagining things because I'm pretty sure I've never done that before, babe." His confidence, however, was misplaced.

Eighteen silently folded the arms of Krillin's sunglasses, delicately resting them on top of her magazine.

"W-what are you doing?" His query reeked with diffidence.

Eighteen purposefully ignored him, electing to silently close the gap between them instead. Krillin dared not move, especially since Eighteen developed a kittenesque sheen in her eyes. She fearlessly pounced on him; Krillin willingly collapsed unto his back. The space between them was now non-existent. What quickly followed was inevitable.

"Ahh, damn it." He humbly admitted, "I guess you're right.”

"See," Eighteen gloated with raised eyebrows. She remained on top of him, resuming her point with a velvety inflexion, "and I think you laugh because you don't know what else to do when I have my eyes set on you.”

Krillin could provide no reply as strands of Eighteen's hair lightly tickled his besotted face. Her strong emphasis on the word, 'you' drew forth another excitable chuckle. Now that she had brought it to his attention, he couldn't stop himself. Nor did he want to.

Satisfied by the result, Eighteen distanced their proximity, if only by the smallest of margins. This gifted Krillin the chance to not only wipe off the soft sand from his back but also reveal another fascinating observation he made about Eighteen.

"Here's a good one!" Krillin's child-like enthusiasm gripped Eighteen, staring back him with a sense of anticipation, "You always make sure that the TV or radio volume is set at an even number.”

"You're kidding, right?" Eighteen answered him with a doubtful snicker.

"I am 100% serious. There have been times where I have deliberately set the volume at 19 and then I catch you changing it to 20 or 22-“

"Or 18?" She noted with a sense of irony.

“Exactly!"

"I can't say there's a valid explanation for it.”

"The only thing I can think of is that because of your name, you naturally prefer even numbers." Krillin's off-the-cuff reasoning technically made sense.

However, Eighteen wasn't fully convinced, logically stating, "If that's the case, then maybe my brother likes his volume set to an odd number.”

"That's gotta be true." He firmly agreed, "You should ask him the next time you see him.”

"Speaking of my brother, you two share a habit.”

"No way!" Krillin exclaimed with great elation, 'What is it!?”

"I wouldn't get too excited if I were you.” Eighteen warned him, hinting at the fact that this habit wasn't exactly a positive one, "You and Seventeen need to learn how to eat without talking at the same time.”

"Huh. I never would have imagined your brother doing something like that." Krillin remarked bemusedly. Even though he didn't know much about Eighteen's twin brother, he was relieved to discover that they did have something in common, even if it was as trivial as talking with their mouths full.

"Believe me, he's almost as bad as you." Eighteen slyly teased, sneakily resting her head on Krillin's shoulder. Sticking to the subject of her brother, she casually suggested to him, "Perhaps on my next visit to Seventeen's place, you could come with me.”

Eighteen almost lost her balance due to Krillin's sudden jolt. She fixed her eyes on him, studying the agitated expression which had rapidly overtaken him as he paced back and forth in front of her.

"D-do you think that's such a good idea?" Krillin responded apprehensively. This wasn't the first time the topic of Krillin meeting up with Seventeen had occurred. Whenever she mentioned it to him, he would quickly change the subject or brush it off with a fake smile. She decided it was time to tell it to him straight.

"What, so you don't want to meet him then?”

“N-no, I would like to meet him." Krillin unconvincingly replied.

Eighteen candidly returned with a stern tone, "Really? Because your face is telling me something completely different.”

Krillin halted in his tracks as Eighteen's words escaped her mouth. Disappointment followed her as she looked away from him, turning to face the transparent ocean.

Sitting back down on the sand, Krillin hoped he could clearly convey his anxious thoughts: "I really do want to meet your brother, Eighteen. I guess I'm just afraid that he’s gonna think that I'm not good enough for you. Or maybe we won't get along with each other.”

Eighteen's face perked up at Krillin's response. She could understand why he felt apprehensive towards her brother. Nevertheless, she desired to put his concerns to rest.

Taking a hold of his shaky hand, she sincerely reassured him, "Honey, you have no reason to be nervous. Seventeen is fully aware that we've been dating for a little while now and he seems pretty chilled about it. I mean even if he wasn't, I don't need his approval, or anybody else’s for that matter. I just think that we've been together long enough to pay him at least one visit from the two of us.”

"So, I don't have anything to worry about?" Krillin asked with a hint of courage in his voice.

Eighteen strongly shook her head, “None whatsoever. Besides, worst-case scenario, I’ll kick his ass and make sure he doesn’t even think about messing with you.”

Swiftly rising to his feet, Krillin boldly proclaimed, "Alright then! We better get going!”

"Go? Go where?”

"Well, I said that I wanted to meet your brother, didn't I?" Krillin clarified cheerfully, offering his right hand out towards Eighteen.

Gladly accepting Krillin's outstretched arm, she arose from the ground, asking with an ebullient expression, "You want to meet my brother right now?”

"Sure!" Krillin confirmed confidently, "I wanna do whatever makes you happy, Eighteen!"

His elegant blush was infectious; Eighteen's cheeks were being painted with an identical rose coloured hue. She tenderly caressed the sides of his face.

It simultaneously occurred to both Krillin and Eighteen that their impromptu decision to visit Seventeen was going to be a big step in their relationship. It was a step that neither of them could have even imagined taking when Eighteen first stepped foot inside Kame House. But they were so grateful that they had each other to take it.

As their bodies gently swayed, Eighteen inquisitively inquired, "Why are you so good to me, Krillin?"

The man in question instinctually released a nervous chuckle, before answering with a heartfelt resonance, "Because I love you.”

Neither of them knew for certain who exactly initiated the kiss. But one thing was obvious: neither of them cared. Their hands crawled around each other's bodies as their kisses grew more and more intense. It was a good thing Master Roshi and Oolong weren't around to see this. Krillin and Eighteen rarely got to physically express themselves since their housemates always stood around like vultures.

As Eighteen's fingers stealthily crept underneath his shirt to dance around the surface of his stomach, Krillin passionately pecked her neck, leaving little imprints of where his lips had been. It was yet another adorable idiosyncrasy Eighteen so dearly treasured about Krillin.

Soon enough, they carefully rested their foreheads against each other, leading them to stare intimately into each other's eyes. The exhilarating adrenaline which had thrust them into the moment was gradually settling down. Their pounding hearts were left playing catch up.

"Hey, Krillin?” Eighteen softly uttered, effortlessly attaining his gaze, "Before we leave, I just wanted to say thank you for doing this. You have no idea just how much this means to me.”

Little dimples appeared on Krillin's cheeks at the sight of Eighteen's signal of satisfaction.

"You just did your hair thing again.” He eagerly noted.

Eighteen embraced her little quirk proudly, "I know.”

"So, should we get ready to leave, babe?” Krillin asked, reaching down to grab Eighteen’s magazine and his sand-covered sunglasses.

"Hold on a second! I think I’ve forgotten something!”

“Huh? What did you forge-" Cutting off Krillin's sentence, Eighteen boldly pressed her lips onto his. She simply couldn't resist the alluring taste of Krillin's sweet kiss any longer. He gladly welcomed the interruption; he didn't mind being silenced if this was his reward for doing so.

Practising a rare instance of self-control, Eighteen gradually withdrew from their brief kiss, playfully stating, "Okay, now I'm ready.”

With every passing day, it seemed that Krillin and Eighteen managed to discover new things they adored about each other. From big gestures to small habits, each one brought them closer together and caused their love to deepen.

Taking flight to the endless blue skies above them, they joyously marvelled to themselves at where exactly their relationship was taking them. Their desired destination excited them. But the journey to arrive there excited them all the more.

THE END ❤️

[doflamingadonquixote]

An Almost Perfect Life - 4/?

Summary: You are a young career woman at one of the bank in London and, at the same time, attending a PhD in Statistics. Your life was perfect until your apartment was invaded by two demons.

Pairing: Sebastian Michaelis x Fem!Reader x Claude Faustus

Previous Chap: Page 1 , Page 2 , Page 3

IV. Sharing Demons

The days had now reached a monotony that you didn't think possible. At work you were controlled by Sebastian but more than control he seemed to really develop a duty as an intern, helping you in the compilation of the documents and in the interviews that you used to carry out with customers who required your experience.

You never thought that kind of cohabitation would reach that level of fake tranquility. At one point, having breakfast and dinner almost became a pleasure.

Claude had become less intrusive, leaving you the space you needed during the study and no longer dared to approach your wardrobe after warning him that if he did it again you would have entered into a contract with Sebastian just out of spite.

You were sure the demon knew you had told a lie but still respected your will.

The last day before the week of your parents' visit, the golden-eyed demon even made you a preparer for a Statistics exam after studying with you and explaining some more delicate reasoning.

However, that feeling of continuous hunting didn’t seem to disappear. The two were and still seemed obsessed with entering into a contract.

Misunderstandings and attacks had happened at least a dozen times and it seemed that the two demons didn’t know how to be in company with each other. One day the house was haunted by Sebastian, the other by Claude.

It seemed as if they disappeared into thin air and when you asked about them or wanted to understand their nature, they seemed to evade your questions, leaving you with a huge question mark.

So much so that day they seemed tremendously irritated by the presence of their fellow man.

“So, my family is coming. I don't want oddities of any kind.” You explained clearly and concisely to the two demons who stood in front of the door.

You asked them politely if they could wear something more normal, like a pair of jeans and a shirt. Needless to say, they had dressed exactly the same way, so it was a matter of debate.

So you decided to offer Sebastian something that diverted attention from ordinary clothing and opted for a long black scarf.

You would have complained about that too, but you preferred to fly over.

You pointed your finger at Sebastian. “I've already explained the situation a hundred times.” And you turned your attention to Claude. “It's nothing too difficult.”

The door rang and almost made you jump on the spot.

“And absolutely no fights.”

Then with a sigh you opened the door and, first of all, you were invaded by the warm embrace of your mother. One arm closed on you while the other held up a bundle of fur. It was in extreme contact with your chest and you felt it shake a little before the woman left.

“It's nice to see you again, mom” you sighed, happy with a friendly face at last. The woman passed you and before paying attention to your father, you observed the reactions of the two demons.

When she settled in front of Sebastian, you watched him widen his eyes as a bright complexion went to cover his cheeks.

“Nice to meet you, I'm the mother of (Y / N), (Y / M / N).”

“Cat.” He said only, as he laid his red eyes on the white beast in your mother's arms.

You whitened. That particular attention on the animal made your blood rise to the brain. Did demons also eat cats?

Before the embarrassing moment could hit everyone, Claude reached out to cover your mother's, appearing in Sebastian's place.

“It's been a while” your father's voice came clear to your ears, forcing you to give your full attention to him.

At the door, with his usual bearing, he looked at you with a softened expression accompanied by a rare smile.

“Yes, it's been a while,” you agreed, letting the detachment disappear as you closed your arms around his body. You definitely missed your father.

He had always been there in difficult times and in your complicated choice of university. You would never have found the right way to thank them for all their commitment and love.

“They are Sebastian, my colleague at work ...” and you pointed to the raven who was playing with the legs of your mother's cat. “… And Claude, Sebastian's cousin. He teaches math and is helping me in the Master.”

The less distracted of the two made a slight bow and wondered where the hell it came from. A simple handshake was enough.

Your father's gaze turned from peaceful to extremely confused.

You quickly approached Claude, placing a hand behind his back and giving him a small pinch with your fingers to make him go straight.

“Well, what if we have lunch, I'm hungry.” you laughed forcedly as the demon watched you in silence.

Your mother, after playing enough with Sebastian and having had her dose of high discomfort, placed the cat in his arms and turned to face you.

“What? Already? But it's only 12 o'clock.” she returned to give her attention to the man to whom she had entrusted her creature and smiled cordially. “After all, I'm curious to know.”

Michaelis gently placed the cat on the ground and finally decided to get out of that embarrassing situation.

“Of course, I promised you after all, madame.”

Your mother laughed at the appellation and asked him to call her only by her name while escorting her to the living room, followed closely by your father who had suddenly become morbid and jealous.

“Are you allright, miss?” asked the second devil, just turning to look at you.

“I hope.” You moaned. “I really hope so.”

 “Are you serious?” chuckled (Y / M / N) as she let herself fall against the sofa.

“It was just like that. I would have expected everything but never to be mistaken for a thief.” Sebastian again confirmed as he was still pouring some tea into your mother's cup.

The two of them had secluded on the sofa closest to the window and on the other side of the table your father was starting a close conversation with Claude who seemed to respond monotonously.

For your part, you had been completely ignored during the whole aperitif, leaving you to deal with your phone.

And you couldn't have had better luck.

With the two distracted demons, you could have investigated more deeply into their nature. You had tried as much as possible to find out about how any contracts entered into worked and how the devil was able to circumvent them.

But nothing specified of devils who deliberately put themselves at the service of a human being without a lavish reward. Yours seemed to be an isolated case, not studied and not treated anywhere.

You excluded the most famous sites, certain that if something had been deliberately ousted you would never have been able to find it there and you aimed at those small anonymous sites with a macabre air.

Many spoke of how to recall a devil but few of how to expel that entity.

What you learned, however, was that the devil could only walk in the human world if close to a contractor. So if that was the case, why were those two still able to walk around like normal people?

And in history, even if they were just mythologies, nobody seemed to have been smart enough to deceive a devil.

Just when you were about to forfeit, an important word jumped into your eyes.

-Demon Slayer-

You thought that by clicking on it you would discover some mysterious coven of fanatics but only a cartoon from Japan happened to you.

Although it had been a waste of time, a vague probability of a demon hunter existence tickled your interest. But they could be anywhere.

The church certainly could have given you the answer you were looking for. Using correct and delicate words, they couldn’t have believed you mad but only persecuted.

There was only one problem.

You raised your eyes to the demons who, with their all too human faces, deceived your family with false and kind words.

Being able to leave the house without being observed by both wouldn’t have been an easy task.

Just as those thoughts invaded your head, Sebastian's eyes looked up at you and you could observe a curious frown. Faster than light, you closed the application and smiled fake.

“Well, how about sitting all at the table now? You must know that Sebastian is also an excellent cook. ”

 “It was a beautiful hour, (Y / N). We would have passed more often if there had also been such welcome companies.”

You avoided gnashing your mother's words as she warmly greeted the two demons near the door.

If only they had known...

“Don't get too used to it, I will get rid of them as soon as possible.” You wanted it to sound like a joke but it came out too much like a truth.

Sebastian turned to you, his usual innocent smile that graced his all too perfect face. “Now, now, it's not a nice thing to say.”

“Have a good return trip.” You recommended to your father, ignoring the offended comment of the red-eyed demon.

You watched them go out and walk along the avenue of your district from the window and when they disappeared from your sight you managed to breathe a sigh of relief.

The demons had done well, after all, and you never expected all that cooperativity.

Closing the light white curtains, you turned suddenly and jumped on the spot when your vision was completely obscured by a figure a few centimeters from you.

You sighed, putting a hand on your heart. “You have to stop showing up behind people...”

The golden eyes narrowed as if he were amused by your reaction, although nothing in his stoic expression seemed to show it. “I apologize. I forget how sensitive you are to heart attacks.”

“It seems like you're waiting for it to happen...” you laughed a little, trying to break that heavy feeling of blockage.

With a sigh, you let your eyes drop on the glass cup he held in his hands. Inside it still shone the dark brown liquid that your mother sipped during the aperitif. Maybe you forgot it in the living room.

“Oh, thanks.” You reached out to grab the object but when you came into contact with the demon's skin, his fingers opened letting the glass fall down.

You tried to reach it straight away, as if by an involuntary reaction, but the wrist was tightened in a painful grip that made you suddenly withdraw.

The thud and the sound of crystals dispersing on the parquet floor filled the silence inside the small room.

You could feel Claude's nails delicately tracing the inside of your wrist, caressing your flesh as if in a silent threat.

You tried to pressure yourself, as if to get back what was yours but it didn't work. The arm remained stretched to the side of the demon while his body seemed to dominate you. It wasn't too close to be annoying, but not too far away to allow you to breathe a sigh of relief.

“Claude, what's going on?”

When you found the courage to take your eyes off the floor and the grip, your eyes focused on his and you held your breath.

Behind the transparent lenses of the glasses, the unmistakable fire that had replaced the passive and detached yellow eyes shone.

You wanted to try again to say something that could make you understand the reason for his gesture but the grip that surrounded your flesh intensified suddenly letting you escape a sore groan.

Without your noticing his figure had bent over you and when his dark hair came to pinch your nose, you instinctively closed your eyes.

The unmistakable blow of a magazine on a hard object sounded a few centimeters from you, blocking the advance of the demon.

“Get a hold of yourself, Claude. You're scaring the young lady.”

You raised your head, which you had involuntarily lowered in fear, on the newcomer who was waving an old newspaper just above the spider demon's head, a sarcastic smile that graced his lips.

The demonic eyes had vanished again returning to the unmistakable gold and although they seemed to show a sort of surprise, that lasted a few moments.

Your hand was free again and you raised it in front of your chest, massaging the bruised skin. A bruise would probably come out the next day.

"I apologize." He only said, in his usual flat voice. He seemed to apologize very much that day.

Sebastian lowered his red eyes on you, holding out a hand as if to give you a rope to escape from that uncomfortable corner. You didn't know why but you relied on the second demon without thinking twice as he approached you.

“Maybe we should keep our appetite under control, don't you think?”

“I hate to admit it, but maybe you're right.”

You didn’t fully understand the allusion that the two demons had exchanged but you were sure of one thing. Claude was going to hurt you very much.

Your cell phone alarm clock rang at that moment, warning everyone that it was time to go back to work. Sebastian would follow you, as usual while Claude would stay home. Or so you thought.

Just before leaving, you turned around, confused by the sudden absence.

“Where's Claude?”

Michaelis put a finger to his lips as if to hide an all too obvious smile.

“Who knows, maybe sudden commitments.”

Unfortunately, at that time, you couldn’t understand the meaning of that phrase. But soon you would have.

[robbyrobinson]

Gods Awaken (XX)

“So you’re telling me that even though you destroyed that book Nyarlathotep got his powers back anyway?”  

“Yes, Eda, that is what happened,” Luz answered solemnly.  

Eda sighed. “Well, I guess that means we’re dead then.”  

Luz’s eyes gleamed. “We can all agree that it is worse than my realization that my Mom wrote the Good Witch Azura books and that I’m Emperor Belos’ granddaughter.”  

Eda nodded. “Yeah, that is ba-wait, what was that last part?”  

Luz chuckled. “Yeah, that was my exact reaction as well.”  

“Makes sense now that I think of it,” Eda noted, “but isn’t it kind of...”  

“Cliche?” Luz added onto her thought.  

“What is a cliché?”  

Lilith interjected. “This is not the most appropriate time for a conversation of this caliber.”  

The Owl Lady and the human girl nodded deciding to speak more about the revelation at a later time.  

The witches of Bonesborough scrambled to obtain a state of control over the sudden wave of dark magic that rocked the town and desecrated their buildings. Houses built alongside the body of the Titan crumbled; stores were wiped clean. Most of the witches set their differences aside to use their magic to prevent debris from falling on them.  

The streets were alive with the sounds of ceaseless chattering and raving over the events. Elder witches overexerted themselves with trying to use their magic spells to keep falling columns of buildings from flattening witchlings. From the destruction wrought, the sky darkened from a sudden storm. It thundered loudly as though it were a living creature. The light from the sun completely absorbed into the vast blackness of the insidious clouds.  

“What is going on!?” one of the male witches yelled.  

Thick, sickening black clouds rolled in silently with the currents. Due to the Boiling Isles’ equivalent of weather being a series of plagues, the witches were already dashing here and forth to get under some scrap of wood or a crude assembly of broken rocks to avoid their skin getting scorched by the acidic precipitation. The cloud loomed over the town for a couple seconds. The cloud swirled and writhed in sickly fashion until they merged together to create a large figure.  

It towered over the town with its ghastly size and boding physique. It was a man, swathing with blackness even darker than the darkest of nights. He resembled a man of some high status perhaps one of the elder kings. The man had some aura to him that made the witches freeze in place out of bewilderment.  

“Children of the Isles,” he announced, “it has been far too long, has it not?”  

The witches looked at each other befuddled. They could sense that there was a twinge of hostility he had with the declaration.  

“I see that your scholars had successfully managed to completely blight my name from the records of the Isles.”  

He snapped his fingers. A large slab of rock emerged from the ground and was crafted into a throne for the large being to sit down in. He flicked his fingers drawing a huge chalice filled with apple blood. He took a large swig of the sweet nectar before speaking again.  

“It is disheartening that this is the state that I left the Isles in thousands of years ago; after literally drawing into my very being and giving your ancestors magic, this is truly the gratitude that you would give me?”  

After taking a long drink of the apple blood, he tossed the chalice away blissfully ignorant of the explosion it caused. “All of you are ungrateful; that ungratefulness lasting from generation to generation. Well, no more.”  

Massive claws surged and bubbled on the Dark Man’s fingers. Before their eyes, he tore open a portal in the space-time continuum. The way in which he tore away reality with such ease amazed the witches but also filled them with despair. Never had they seen something of this caliber in the long history of the Boiling Isles. The sheer raw power that this tall man possessed was unnatural.

Droves of crustacean-fungus like anomalies escaped the rip in space-time. Like locusts, swarms of these creatures blotted out the sun. They came upon the citizens of Bonesborough in such frenzy and lifted them into the air. Swarm after swarm arrived to abduct more citizens and fly them to an uncertain fate.  

Smirking, he opened another portal and withdrew his scepter.  The large gem in the middle of it glowed and began to twist and pull reality around it. Portions of the Boiling Isles started to fade out of existence. The fabric of reality was further ripped down to the seams exposing the backdrop of the pure darkness of the void. Strange masses of tentacular monstrosities fizzled from the darkness of the void.

Before any of the witches could react, those that were captured by the winged anomalies were seized and suspended in midair. They fought against the invisible forces holding them in place, but all they could hear was the deep, sinister, shrilled laughter of their tormentors. Invisible, inky tentacles wrapped around them contributing to more frantic movement. With each movement only strengthening the monster’s grasp, sharp suckers stabbed their way through their bodies. Splintering pain flowed through their bodies as they heard the maniacal laughter of the obscure beasts and the hideous sound of their blood being greedily sucked away. Blood was visibly getting vacuumed through the tentacles of the beasts who now were shown as having no visible face rather a large mandible surrounded by endless numbers of appendages. They were becoming bloated from the blood.  

The tall man looked at the chaos with a lack of interest. Stretching his arms, he drew from the ground again and mentally crafted it into a chariot. Once the chariot was made, he summoned more creatures from the void. They resembled birds, larger than the ones typically seen on the Isles roughly the size of an elephant. And yet instead of beaks and feathers, they instead had heads calling to mind a majestic horse; in the place of their feathers were slimy, oily scales of a reptile. They flew in a galloping fashion neighing in the presence of their summoner. Legions of these bizarre horses stopped in front of the chariot and were strapped in ropes. He got up from his makeshift throne and perched his large frame in the front of the chariot.  

“For thousands of years ever since your ungrateful ancestors locked me away, the one thought consumed my mind; that being vengeance.”  

He stared over seeing Belos’ empire at a far distance. “You are all cordially invited to a party.”

They looked at the peculiar man with worried expressions.  

“Before this day is done, the Boiling Isles will be torn down brick by brick, to its smallest atom and from that level of devastation will birth a new age. Out of the ashes of the fire, I will build a new world where my acolytes will not know of what came before them and will pledge their allegiance to me and my alone.”  

The witches screamed in unison again. “What do you want from us?”  

He held his scepter out and twirled it at them. “My star protégé will be taking on one of your witches; consider this a good show that will satiate my boredom long enough to temporarily withhold the destruction of your world.”  

He took his scepter and smacked it against the rim of his chariot. The horse monster, now recognized as being his shantaks, squealed and began to flap their massive wings. With a galloping motion, the legions of winged creatures lifted the heavy chariot off the ground and into the air.

“Come on, put your back into it,” a teacher yelled.  

One of the teachers used their finger to create the illusion of a battering ram. With it, he sprinted for the entrance only for the device to fail when the dark magic holding the barrier in place rebounded on him. He was flung back landing where the guard that Nyarlathotep merged with the lockers was located.  

The Abomination Teacher ordered his abomination to use its fists to punch a hole in the barrier. Like any other abomination, it followed his command, but the result was always the same. The magic wall was reducing the abomination down to the stumps of his hands forcing the abomination to temporarily become undone and then reassemble itself to try again.  

“Are we going to die in here?” a student whimpered.

Principal Bump put his finger against his mouth. “Now, now, calm down, everyone: we are not going to die.”  

None of the students were truthfully convinced by the Principal’s words yet they were trying to grant themselves a little sense of normalcy. The Abomination Teacher called his abomination off and he looked at the school’s principal. “Sir, is there something on your mind?”  

“Could we discuss it by ourselves?”  

The Abomination Teacher ordered for his servant to keep guard of the students and walked over to Principal Bump. Sternness manifested through his eyes. “What is actually going on? Who was that man?”  

Principal Bump sighed. “There is so much more behind the history of the Boiling Isles that was expunged from the records; one of them involved a figure who was probably one of the most evil beings I have ever encountered: now I fear he had returned to his full power.”  

“Well, what can we possibly do about this...man?”  

Principal Bump shook his head. “The magic barrier he made was designed using a powerful, dark otherworldly spell that I am afraid no ordinary witch can ever hope to make as much as a dent in it.”  

Eyes widened, the Abomination Teacher spoke again. “B-but if the students find out-”  

“Hush!”  

Principal Bump looked behind a corner making sure that none of the other students were eavesdropping on their conversation. “We should probably keep the students occupied for a while to keep them from inciting a hysteria.”  

The Abomination Teacher also gave a passing glance behind the corner. “And there is nothing we can do?”  

“Aye; either Nyarlathotep returns and removes the enchantment spell he placed on the school, or”  

“Or?”  

“Or we could get lucky and have an Elder God come to our defense and destroy the barrier.”  

The Abomination Teacher squinted his eyes. “An elder god?”  

“It’s going to be a long discussion,” Principal Bump emphasized, “so listen carefully.”  

Skara and some of the popular clique took their text books and slammed them on the outside. The books returned at full force towards their owners. Only Skara was able to narrowly avoid getting creamed by the books by ducking, but the same could not be said for the other girls.  

“What kind of magic is this?” Skara asked aloud.  

Gus scratched his chin. “Looks like something you’d see being made by the construction coven.”  

He placed his hands against the wall of the barrier, pressing his palms. “Something tells me that this isn’t even the native magic common here.”  

“I am getting really concerned for Luz and Amity,” Willow said. “There should be some way to contact them.”  

She drew a circle in the air and retrieved her purple scroll. She tried to login to her Penstagram account, but the connection was not getting through. A few more of the students saw what Willow was doing and they to took out their scrolls to call for assistance. However, much like before, the connection was terminated.  

“Somehow the magic barrier had cut us off from the outside world,” Willow observed, “we’re sitting turtle ducks now.”  

As she turned away, she caught something in the corner of her eye with her peripheral vision. One of the students had a potted plant that was pitched at a window prior to their imprisonment. It appeared to be a cross between a Venus flytrap and a tomato plant. For whatever reason, likely because of it being almost tossed out the window, it had its large mandibles wrapped around a piece of the magic barrier keeping the shield from completing.  

“Willow, squeeze yourself through the opening,” Gus said.  

Willow looked carefully at the escape route that was seemingly pre-ordained. She then looked at Willow and the others. “Don’t worry; I’ll tell Luz what happened and maybe she and Eda can help us.”  

Taking a short breath, Willow cautiously slid herself underneath the opening while ensuring to not catch the wrath of the sapient plant. Her head and shoulders successfully slid under the barrier followed by her torso. Squeezing her ribs under, she froze for a moment upon hearing a crackling sound. Purple sap was dropping onto her abdomen. Looking up to her horror, the dark magic was slicing its way ever slowly through the potted plant. It still had a strong grip on the barrier, but for how long, Willow could not say. Scrambling, Willow’s forearms bent and nudged the grass.  

Grunting, Willow ben her body in a backward motion practically falling out the school with the back of her head. Now with better maneuvering, Willow quickly drew in her legs. The barrier sliced through the plant’s mandibles like a guillotine splattering its sap on the window and its sill. The school was now completely devoid of any alternative sources of escape. Willow got up on her feet and wiped the dirt off her clothes.  

“Don’t worry, guys, I’ll be back!”  

[victimhood]

Mr. Nile Freeman

GQ, September 2027 issue

Inter Milan’s midfield maestro Sébastien LeLivre is finally hitting a steady stride. This is a man who has swung from extremes in a volatile career—the highs and lows at Liverpool under James Copley, the sublime performance against Brazil in the Men’s 2026 World Cup semifinal to the controversial foul in the final against Italy, to joining the very team helmed by his World Cup nemesis, Nicolò Di Genova. Today, he says he has a cordial relationship with his team captain, and at Inter Milan he has quickly established himself as a key player in the starting eleven. Who can forget the footballing masterclass at the Bernabeu, where Inter Milan schooled the home side with their lethal combination of precision and artistry?

[The Old Guard football!AU, Book of Nile + Andy as a football manager]

Hi Sébastien, congratulations on winning the Champions League. You have been monumental to Inter’s pivot to a beautiful attacking style, as one of the most complete midfielders of the game.

Thank you, I’m just carrying out my manager [Andy] Skifka’s orders. She should get the credit for this pivot.

Very feminist of you. How would you describe Skifska’s approach as a manager?

She’s the hardest working manager I’ve seen. She always thinking, processing football data and churning out new ideas. She’s very creative tactically, and she dares to try things that sound crazy on paper. She’s very open to feedback too—she operates on this model of constant improvement. Nothing is ever perfect to her, but she never expects you to start perfect either. It’s a great psychological sweet spot that she’s managed to foster in the team. There’s a good balance of feeling secure and yet feeling driven to get to the next level. She definitely deserves her spot amongst the greats.

She is truly groundbreaking, hitting many firsts for women in football. This brings us to the topic of the Women’s World Cup too. You helped draw audiences to support the French women’s team.

Isn’t there the book that goes, “We Should All Be Feminists”? Anyway, I think I’m given too much credit for the Women’s World Cup. I’m just a spectator like everyone else. I like to think people would have watched the French women’s team anyway because they did so well, especially when they made it to the finals. They play with so much grit and determination despite the comparative lack of resources. I hope this shows that women’s football is equally deserving of the same kind of monetary investment and rewards.

Ah, yes, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie is the author of that book you mentioned. Women’s football has indeed come a long way despite its relatively short history. And of course, one of the biggest women’s stars has been Nile Freeman. The internet has been rife with speculation about what’s going on between you two, ever since Nile 1, Booker 0. Care to clear the air?

[groans] Okay I have many points, let’s go back to what you said. Women have been playing football for as long as the game existed. Their game was so popular the English FA banned it for fifty years from 1921 to 1971. That’s why it looks like it has a short history to us—but their game has always been part of the story since the beginning.

Wow, thank you for telling me that. I’m glad to be wrong on this point, how did you come to learn it?

Well. You’re going to love this answer. Nile [Freeman] told me. We must give her the credit for this one.

So you two have been talking to each other?

Of course we talk to each other. We’re married.

Well, my heartiest congratulations to the both of you. Please forgive me for asking the obvious, but this is news to me. How did it all start? When did you two first meet?

Hmm, I think it was the FIFA awards in Paris.

Wow, that sounds like a meet-cute! Were you introduced?

I might have approached her first...

What motivated you to do that?

She’s really cool? Anyway we both moved to Milan at the same time, for work.

And you kept that all a secret from the world until now!

Yeah...I mean, you saw how crazy everyone got with the Nile 1 Booker 0 thing right? For the health of our relationship we need to maintain strict boundaries between ourselves and our work, our work and the general public, and so on.

Certainly gives us more context to what you said now.

[groans] Yeah, that was a moment of weakness on my part, I’ll admit. I wasn’t going to say anything—L’Equipe, Le Figaro, Le Monde—they all tried to get some words out of me, and I refused them—but then this BBC reporter mentions Nile by name and I caved.

We all have our weaknesses.

I certainly do. [grins]

The internet was also very interested in the feud between you and Rachida Achouri. It seems the two of you have made peace now.

[in French] Rachida—top cool, trop canon. I mean, her parents didn’t want her to play football, but she went ahead and did it anyway. She’s a true rebel and the exact kind of personality we need as our national team captain. How cool would it be if we could play in the same team?

So, like Nile Freeman, you think men and women should start playing together?

If it isn’t obvious by now, it is the same game that we all play. I understand the need to develop the women’s game as a safe space due to the years of discriminatory setbacks, but we don’t see that reflected in terms of resource distribution. No one’s spending more money on the women to get them level with the men. If we want the game to be equal, the women need the same resources, and the only way to do this is if everyone plays together. I don’t have the answers to the best system to work this out, but the game is changing all the time. We need to trust that it will only get better—and maybe I play for the men’s game now, but twenty years later, for the next generation—what will their game look like? Can we do better for them?

(source)

[lindyloosims]

Archer:

After getting myself together and heading back, my heart was in my mouth! I’d already witnessed my Cassie and Johnny Zest expressing major PDA and it made me feel sick. Not that that kinda thing made me sick, it was seeing Cassie with someone else that nauseated me! I approached them as a drunk woman was bantering with Johnny while my sweet girl looked on bemused.

DRUNK WOMAN: Oh I get it! A rose between two thorns eh? Girl you got some serious Vampire Diaries situation going on here!

Cassie gasped and her eyes were as wide as saucers, but she didn’t even look over at me, it was as if she was trying to pretend I wasn’t there but this woman was making that very difficult.

DRUNK WOMAN: You have to choose girly, you can’t string ‘em both along, look at ‘em! They’re besotted! 

Johnny mumbled something to Cassie with a nervous laugh as she answered him just as quietly and the woman staggered off. I wasn’t sure if I should even go near them but I had to show my face or it would definitely look suspicious if I turned heel again and ran.

ARCHER: Hey Cassie, long time no see! You’re looking great by the way, how was your birthday? Johnny here tells me you’re dating, that’s cool!

I sounded like a complete idiot spouting nonsense. I was so nervous though, I had no idea what to say in order to not look guilty, I didn’t want my pal Johnny to know that the drunk woman wasn’t crazy...she knew exactly what was going on! Cassie was the rose and Johnny and I were the thorns!

CASSIE: Hi Archer! 

Cassie mumbled a hello, not even turning her head to look at me. I couldn’t tell if she was mad, shy or embarrassed. Maybe all three, but still she wouldn’t look me in the eye and it hurt! There was an awkward silence as Johnny was looking me up and down with a puzzled expression.

ARCHER: Well, it was great to see you both, I’m gonna head in and have a look around. I hear there’s a fierce gaming tournie on later! You guys have fun!

I’d had enough of the awkwardness and to be honest I didn’t wanna see Johnny put his tongue in her mouth again or I’d surely vomit for real this time. I was so jealous of him it was difficult for me to be cordial, and he was my friend, but Cassie...she was everything! Ruby had been right, she was gorgeous!

A good few minutes later, I found the big screen that played the trailers to all the cool upcoming sci-fi movies. I was by myself, the way I liked it, when I was aware of someone behind me...it was her!

CASSIE: Hey Archie? Can I sit down?

My heart was pounding, fast! There was no sign of Johnny, had they fallen out? A boy could dream, that wasn’t nice, Johnny was my friend! All is fair in love and war though my friend, and Cassie was worth going to war over! I pretended to hardly notice her and kept staring up at the screen.

ARCHER: Sure thing! It’s a free country!

She sat so close to me, another awkward silence engulfed our little space, I was scared to look at her for fear of losing my shit. She smelled the same, roses, she was so grown up. Her voice still sounded so sweet and innocent though, her mannerisms hadn’t changed either, she was still shy and awkward and adorable! I tried so hard to be cool, remembering that she had a boyfriend and that he was a friend of mine.

ARCHER: You cut your hair.

CASSIE: Yes, I...well I always had it long. Felt I needed a change.

ARCHER: It looks lovely...um...I mean...looks good on you!

CASSIE: Archie, I’m sorry for my behaviour when we last saw each other, it was inappropriate, I know that now. Look I understand if you don’t want to but...can you forgive me?

Oh man was my heart racing! I looked at her then, her little face made me melt. Here I was thinking that she hated me when all along she thought I hated her! Not a chance, I adored her!

ARCHER: There’s nothing to forgive Cassie, and even if there was, you have to know I’d forgive you anything!

Her little cheeks flushed and she blinked her big brown eyes in surprise. I stared at her, I didn’t care anymore, I wanted to take in every part of her and memorise the way she looked. Just in case it was the last time before she rode off into the sunset with Johnny fucking Zest...or should I say Landgraab! Boy her parents must have been fuming over that one!

We talked and laughed for a while, it was like old times except I felt more relaxed. I never wanted us to leave that sofa, somehow the trailers I’d been so excited to see didn’t matter anymore, all that mattered was her...

...but then he appeared!

JOHNNY: Babe, let’s go! We’re leaving!

Slap, bang, back to reality! I’d almost forgotten he existed! He sounded angry, she looked sad and me? Well I wanted to hold onto her for dear life and run!

Previous_Next

From The Beginning

[onthevirgeofdestruction]

Plea for My New Self

Sanders sides Vampire College AU - it’s gay - it’s full of fun fluffy tropes - a bit o’ hurt/comfort - mostly fluff

Words: 5,346 Warnings:  Arguing, Violence, Referenced Gore (in a movie), food, blood Characters: Virgil, Roman, Patton, Logan, Thomas, Remy, Joan, Talyn Ships: Prinxiety, Anxceit, Roceit, Analogical, Remile, Joan&Talyn Universe: Plea for my New Self Rating: T Genre: Vampire Nonsense 

Chapter 30: A Noise Severe

Chapter 1 for New Readers - ffn mirror

   Virgil sighed with relief as the film came on, pressing his back into the base of the couch as he relaxed. He had been looking forward to some pleasant murder since Thomas first mentioned it. Virgil hummed a deep, satisfied noise as Logan shifted to get more comfortable in his lap. Virgil wrapped his arms around Logan and enjoyed his company. Logan continued to mess with his bracelet but leaned into Virgil happily. Logan didn’t normally do public displays of affection, but Virgil wasn’t complaining.

   Emile and Patton split half of Virgil’s head each, and he didn’t understand what was happening back there. There was lots of tugging at angles that made little sense for their braiding bonanza. He was happy as long as they were vibing and that Emile wasn’t pestering him. The others in his clan felt content. Roman was extremely satisfied in the hot tub. He was one with the bubbles. Deceit may have been cuddling Pat, Virgil wasn’t able to turn his head to check with the bubbly duo doing something strange to his hair. Virgil nuzzled into Logan’s neck while the intro to the film played out.

   “Do you like horror films, or are you just here for scientific curiosity?” Virgil muttered into Logan’s neck, taking in the aroma that smelled particularly enticing after growing more hair for his shoulder demons’ amusement. He was perfectly aware he was torturing himself, and he did not give a single fuck. One benefit of being as old as sin is good self-control, even if he was batty.

   “For both,” Logan smiled and whispered back. “Horror films are fascinating. I enjoy critically examining the themes and the psychological tricks and tactics meant to instill fear in people who aren’t in any real danger,” He explained cordially, flipping a bead on his bracelet.

   “That is another cool thing about horror films,” Joan mused, not taking their eyes off the screen.

   “I just like the screams and blood,” Talyn smirked, looking extremely amused. Virgil thought Logan might have had a reaction to the obvious bloodlust, but he seemed just as happy as before as he reclined in Virgil’s lap.

   “There’s one less mental voice in here than there should be,” Deceit announced suddenly behind Virgil. There was a pause in which everyone in the room stared at Deceit.

   “What?” Thomas asked, looking incredibly baffled out the corner of Virgil’s vision.

   “I can’t hear one of you. Joan, I think? What’s your gift?” Deceit inquired curiously, shifting on the couch behind Virgil.

   “Oh, you have a telepathy type gift?” Thomas looked intrigued and leaned in Deceit’s direction.

   “Not exactly, I know people’s genuine feelings. Near Virgil, I passively hear thoughts. It’s a bit of a nightmare even if it is useful, so I’m always curious about gifts that prevent mine,” Deceit explained, affectionately nudging Virgil’s shoulder when he was mentioned.

   “Oh, that does sound annoying. I’ve got negation. It’s a boring one. I cancel out gifts and near Remy, I can also negate physical blows. It’s killer for fights, but other than covering Remy’s territory we’re barely in any conflicts,” Joan replied passively, watching the screen.

   “I know, it sucks,” Talyn whined emphatically. The sheer blood lust from them was surprising, but Virgil could relate.

“Roman probably has the coolest gift for both general use and battle,” Remy mused, splashing at the water. Virgil’s eyes shot to Remy in pure confusion. Roman’s look mirrored Virgil’s bafflement and breathless intrigue.

   “What?” Virgil and Roman both faltered at the same time, staring at Remy.

   “It’s better to tell you now, before you set a bed on fire… you’ve got pyromancy,” Remy said blithely, flicking some water in Roman’s direction.

   “Wait, what the fuck? How do you know?” Roman demanded, splashing his hand down in the hot tub.

   “Mine’s premonition. It’s also annoying. I lose track of which reality I’m in sometimes,” Remy explained. Wow, no wonder Remy was an already batty for an Alpha with a Brood. Virgil heard Deceit hum in agreement behind him.

   “Please, if I had future manipulation I’d use it constantly,” Deceit said flippantly, and the couch shook slightly from a dramatic motion.

   “Can we get back to the part where I have freaking fire powers?” Roman demanded loudly, sounding shocked and splashing both hands on top of the water surface.

   “I can’t believe you’re not interested in how you set a bed on fire,” Remy laughed boisterously, lazily splashing Roman in return.

   “He’s an idiot, I’m sure it has something to do with that,” Virgil joined Remy’s laughter, much to Roman’s disdain.

   “Oh, it might still happen,” Remy said smugly, winking at Roman.

   “Try to use it!” Patton cheered excitedly from behind Virgil, yanking hard on his hair.

   “Do not use fire in chemically treated pool water,” Logan insisted hastily, pointing at Roman.

   “Yeah, also not indoors,” Virgil chuckled and shook his head affectionately, stroking Logan’s arm.

   “Hey, shut up, the horror part is finally starting,” Talyn hissed in protest to their nonsense. Roman made a variety of upset sounds, but gave up for now and settled on being extraordinarily elated, bobbing in the hot tub.

   “Oh, awesome,” Virgil looked back to the TV in anticipation.

   ‘Pat, how do you use your gift!’ Roman mentally shouted, splashing more water as he begged Patton for answers.

   ‘Ro, no yelling,’ Virgil huffed and shot a glare to Roman. Patton paused with braiding. ‘He’s got premonition powers, we don’t know if you have them now,’ He rolled his eyes at Roman who glowered back for a second, but he was apparently too excited to stay mad.

   ‘Maybe I get it this evening! Come on, feed on me,’ Roman goaded Virgil on, and as wonderful as that sounded right now he had higher priorities.

   ‘I’m watching a movie, I need to see somebody’s freakin’ throat get ripped out before I go mad,’ Virgil thought to them desperately. The smell inside the suite was intense.

   ‘This is a ghost film, Virge, I doubt there’s throat-ripping,’ Roman thought irately.

   ‘Don’t I have enough thoughts to deal with in my head right now without these extras?’ Deceit made a dissatisfied noise behind him and bopped Virgil on the head with his cane, probably because he couldn’t reach Roman in the hot tub to do it to him. Virgil sighed inaudibly, and Logan leaned back to look at Deceit in confusion.

   ‘I want to know!’ Roman shot mentally, the water sloshing around him as he vibrated angrily.

   “Babes, quit harassing your alpha or he’s going to attack me,” Remy groaned, splashing water at Roman forcefully, a small amount of excess water landing on the tile around the hot tub.

   “Sorry,” Virgil huffed and blew a little loose hair out of his face, grinding his teeth. Roman sighed and sunk into the hot tub bitterly. Logan shifted to angle more towards the movie in interest but didn’t stop playing with his bracelet.

   “Emmy, get me something from the minibar,” Remy grunted sourly, beckoning at Emile. Emile hopped up from the couch, dropping a handful of tresses over Virgil’s shoulder. He walked over to the black mini-fridge with a clear door, considering the options before grabbing a few nips of vodka. Emile went to the hot tub and dropped them in Remy’s outstretched hands. Virgil could feel Roman’s frustration, and Patton made a concerned noise. Deceit sighed again, sounding excessively disgruntled.

   “Logan, love, can I go handle this?” Virgil whispered into Logan’s ear and stroked his arm in consolation. Logan nodded and shifted off of Virgil’s lap, climbing up to sit next to Deceit on the couch. Virgil felt his hair was half-braided in certain parts, and it felt odd when his hair swayed as he got up off the floor. He went over to the hot tub and twisted his hair into what was possibly the most lopsided bun in existence. After stripping to his boxer briefs, he stepped in next to Roman.

   “Cute tats, Virge,” Remy smirked, looking Virgil over as he settled into the hot bubbling water. It felt a little wrong. It surprised him how relaxed Remy seemed in here.

   “Thanks,” Virgil nodded and sat behind Roman. ‘Ready?’ He confirmed with Roman mentally, pulling him into his arms on the hot tub bench.

   ‘What, right now? Here?’ Roman looked appalled at the very concept of Virgil doing what Roman urged him to do a literal moment ago.

   ‘You’re throwing a clan-wide hissy fit and demanded I come over,’ Virgil stared intensely at Roman.

   ‘There are people here,’ Roman motioned to the room just barely above the water, looking embarrassed.

   ‘You’re seriously shy now?’ Virgil glowered at him irately.

   ‘It- I just don’t think it’s appropriate around others,’ Roman thought nervously, looking around the suite with concern.

   ‘Do you want to venom, or not? I’m tired, I’m thirsty, my body wants to punch the guy next to us, and I’m missing a horror movie,’ Virgil loosened up on Roman and leaned back in the hot tub, giving Roman his space to decide.

   ‘It’s, well, it feels…’ Roman turned beet red and sunk partially underwater.

   ‘I will stick his fangs in your neck myself!’ Deceit shot them both a glare and motioned threateningly with his cane.

   ‘Your coconspirator is not a fan of all these extra thoughts,’ Virgil looked critically at Roman. Roman sighed and reached around to hold Virgil, shifting into his lap. He exposed his neck and tapped on Virgil’s shoulder. Virgil bit down into Roman’s skin and the rush of fiery blood hit his dry throat like a holy blessing. Finally, some good fucking food.

   ‘You are incorrigible,’ Deceit thought. Virgil didn’t quite care at the moment. Roman tasted too fucking amazing. He was thirsty from the hair growth and smelling Logan’s neck wasn’t exactly making it better. Virgil got in a few good long drinks before Deceit tapped his cane on the floor. He took that as a sign that he tapped out Roman and sealed the wound. Virgil leaned back in the hot tub with Roman still in his lap, laying against him in a daze. Virgil turned back to the film, feeling very satisfied and rejuvenated by the fresh blood.

   They all watched in what was probably very blessed semi-silence for Deceit since he finally relaxed back into the couch and went back to watching the flick. He pressed partially against Patton with a pleased expression. Logan was watching the movie with a vested interest, leaning forward on his legs. The tension in the film was building, and the attack was imminent at this point. Virgil waited with bated breath for some violent action.

   When the ghost made its move, Patton and Emile shrieked from the couch, clinging on to each other for dear life. Deceit cackled in delight. Thomas shook his head and chuckled, and Remy looked extremely amused. Talyn watched with unparalleled interest, and Joan leaned back and smiled. Roman didn’t have much of a reaction, probably because he was facing away from the film and blissed out. Virgil’s instincts near Remy were still on edge, but he felt a little more in control with blood and some lovely brutal murder.

   Virgil was certain Roman fell asleep while they were watching, which didn’t seem like the best idea in a hot tub. The movie is back to them dealing with the terror over actual terrors, so Virgil hopefully had a minute before there was any more gore. Virgil carried Roman out of the hot tub and dripped his way to the bathroom to towel off the water.

   There was a giant standing shower with a bench he propped Roman up against to dry him with a towel. The food should be here soon, so having to wake up Roman to eat conflicted Virgil. Obviously he needed the nutrients since Virgil just fed, but Roman also kept staying up too late and needed the rest. That was probably why he got sleepy when he lost a bit of blood. Virgil shouldn’t have fallen for their pestering and made Roman fall asleep in the middle of a movie party with other vampires Virgil didn’t fully trust.

   Virgil sighed and opted to let him nap for the time being. The guy slept like a rock to be capable of sleeping through this, but Virgil tried to be light and gentle nonetheless. He dried Roman off carefully and picked one of the empty rooms to lay him on a bed. He tucked in Roman, leaving him laying on a towel so his swim trunks wouldn’t soak the sheets. Roman was still feeling warm from the hot tub, But Virgil laid a towel over him, anyway.

   He went back into the living room and slid his clothes back on to rejoin the movie, though he left his leather jacket on the back of the couch. Patton, Emile, and Logan were now all under blankets on the couch. He had no idea where ever they ran off to find them since Virgil wasn’t gone that long. One of the closets they found earlier could have been a linen closet? Logan would have known, probably, considering he ran around checking everything when they first got here.

   Virgil moved to sit back on the floor in front of Patton, but they caught his shoulder. Virgil looked to Patton, and they shook their head and pointed to the spot next to them and looked scared. Virgil chuckled and sat down, letting Patton burrow under his arm, holding on tight to Virgil’s torso. Deceit leaned against Virgil affectionately on the other side. Logan seemed happy with his space, for now. He watched the movie tensely while his hands gripped his knees.

   Room service arrived a short while later, and Emile looked ecstatic to have an excuse to look away from the film. Patton also finally left the couch to eat the dinner they intended to at least thirty minutes ago. They both looked like they were watching with wide eyes from across the table as they ate, though. Virgil got up from his seat and went into the bedroom to grab Roman.

   Roman was sitting up on the bed looking dazed when Virgil came into the room. He rubbed his face and seemed lost, furrowing his eyebrows, and didn’t notice Virgil enter. Virgil frowned in concern as Roman spaced out.

   “Shit, are you okay Roman? Did I take too much?” Virgil stressed, hastily moving to Roman’s side next to the bed.

   “Oh, Virge. No, I’m just-” Roman yawned widely and covered his mouth. “-still kinda feelin’ it other than being tired,” He ran his hand through his hair and blinked a few times.

   “Well, the food’s here if you want to change and come eat,” Virgil offered his support. Roman took it, and Roman was oddly warm to the touch. “I think you were in that hot tub too long, you’re still pretty warm,” Virgil muttered.

   “I feel dandy, I’m just a little out of it,” Roman said cheerily. “Get out of here so I can change,” Roman pointed to the door lazily and Virgil helped him off the bed before leaving back to the couch.

   Virgil returned to his spot in between Logan and Deceit. Deceit cuddled up to him immediately. It looked as if Virgil had made it back just in time because murder: part two was gearing up. The swelling of the background music and the close zoom of the camera attracted Virgil’s interest right away. Virgil heard Roman come out and sit at the table with the others, and it relieved him Roman was finally eating. Plus, there was blood everywhere on the screen. Roman quietly uttered a disgusted noise, but there was a splash from Remy leaning forward excitedly and the other vampires all tensing for the kill.

   There was a collective sigh as the remains of the foolish homeowner collapsed on the ground. Deceit nodded slightly, maybe to someone’s thoughts. Virgil leaned into the couch happily and Deceit played with the hair at the base of his neck, also relaxing again. They watched out the rest of the film quietly. Patton and Emile must have been too tense to return to the couch because they never moved, but eventually, Roman came back and laid in Deceit’s lap.

   When the movie was over, Roman got up to flip through the other movie disks with a curious hum. He still looked very satisfied, but less out of it while he examined the cases.

   “Alright, what are you feeling next? Castle of Terror or Mystery of the Marquis?” Roman said, holding the two movie cases up to see.

   “What are the descriptions?” Deceit asked lazily, nestled under Virgil’s arm. Roman flipped over the case to read it.

   “Castle of Terror has the phrase ‘murder frenzied’ on it,” Roman supplied, grimacing slightly.

   “Sold!” Virgil and Remy both called out at the same time.

   “Aw, but Mystery of the Marquis is supposed to have neck ripping,” Talyn whined, opposing their selection with some extraordinarily pertinent information.

   “That one!” Deceit blurted out eagerly.

   “Yass, bitch!” Remy cheered, also changing his mind.

   “We can watch all three, we have the room all night and none of you sleep,” Roman chuckled and shook the cases at them.

   “Logan would go to bed earliest, hand him the cases and let him pick the next one,” Virgil suggested, pointing to Logan.

   “I will stay up tonight. It would be hard to sleep. There is an unsettling intermittent crawling sensation up my spine,” Logan supplied, shaking his head.

   “Sorry, Logan,” Virgil frowned. Perhaps he should offer to take Logan back to the dorm again.

   “I would have stayed awake even if there wasn’t some kind of strange prey instinct occurring,” Logan shrugged dismissively. Roman passed off the cases to Logan to make his choice, anyway.

   “Ugh, I relate. The feeling on my neck is getting a little weird,” Patton agreed, rubbing their neck with a perturbed expression.

   “I think the Mystery of the Marquis would be a superb choice,” Logan decided, holding up the case. Roman nodded and took both disks back and loaded up the movie. Remy got up and climbed out of the hot tub to go dry off, walking across the room confidently.

   “Emmy, babe, feed Joan before the next movie,” Remy waved as he disappeared into the bathroom doorway. Emile stood from the table and dropped himself into Joan’s lap with a bright grin.

   “Come here often?” Emile laughed playfully. Joan groaned loudly and pulled on his arm swiftly to feed on him. Emile’s smile softened, and he relaxed against the chair. Roman came back over to the couch after he loaded the disk into the player and returned to cuddling Deceit. Deceit leaned into Virgil and angled Virgil’s head facing down to steal a kiss. Virgil smiled happily into it and Deceit pet Roman’s hair in his lap. Patton got up from the table and climbed up the back of the couch to sit behind Virgil on the top of the couch. They started playing with his hair again after freeing it from the lumpy bun.

   “Did you want to finish the hairstyle?” Their determination amused Virgil, shifting to let Patton slide their feet into a more comfortable position before leaning back again.

   “Yes! It will look amazing,” Patton said fervently.

   Remy came back out a moment later, tossing a towel on the splashes on the floor. He pulled his clothes back on right after and dragged his foot around the towel to sop up the water and chucked it in the bathroom’s direction. Remy walked over to Joan’s recliner and lifted Emile right out of Joan’s lap. Remy sauntered to the couch, holding on to the out-of-it Emile, and deposited himself on the couch.

   “Bring the suffering, girl, let’s get some throat-ripping action!” Remy commanded, pointing excitedly to the TV. Roman sat up enough to reach the remote and settled back against Deceit’s chest. He lazily lifted his arm and pressed play on the next movie before nestling his face and closing his eyes. Logan pulled back up the blanket and leaned back, looking interested in the new movie. Patton kept braiding as the movie started up, and Virgil sighed happily as he stroked Roman’s hair slightly with the arm around Deceit.

   This movie was much less eventful in that most of the people in the room were watching it so intensely that the vampires barely moved and the humans mostly shifted nervously. Patton got distracted again from their braiding, but Virgil’s hair felt mostly put together when they stopped and held on tight to Virgil’s head while they leaned forward. The movie had less suspense than the first movie and more brutality, which was incredibly gratifying. It wasn’t so much a mystery as much as it was historians and a greedy person getting slaughtered violently by a vampire. This one might have been by a vampire, it had so much blood and throat-ripping.

   Patton buried their face in Virgil’s hair after things got intense every time, and they slid down the couch and hid behind Virgil more than halfway through the movie. They made little squeaks of terror and flinched every time there was a loud noise. Logan threw a blanket over Patton and they didn’t come back out. Virgil held up his arm and Patton slid into it instantly and grasped it tight, laying on Virgil now and hiding behind the blanket. It was very cute.

   Other than noises of disgust, Roman seemed to put up with the movie alright. Logan had that expression he sometimes got while taking notes, and Virgil did not understand how to parse that information. If it meant anything, Virgil had no inkling as to what. But Logan was too invested in whatever way he was and didn’t make any tiny noises. Emile was also hiding under a blanket at this point, but he was still watching, his eyes barely peeked out from his safety blanket.

   The various vampires, on the other hand, often let out various levels of satisfied hisses and didn’t move much. Remy had a deeply contented grin, Joan and Talyn looked absolutely stoked, and Thomas was rigid, but he still had an invested expression. Remy and Virgil had shot each other a few glares and glances and met eyes, but they held their own despite the growing urge again.

   Virgil tried to focus on the movie that was extremely tailored to his murder instincts, but he felt his muscles stiffening. They appeared to have it under control, though, and Remy could just tell them if they needed to change something to avoid an event. Though Virgil wasn’t sure if Remy cared if they started attacking each other. He was unpredictable. Constantly changing things in seemingly strange ways to alter the future probably gave that impression rather than the reality of it.

   Virgil was still tense when the film was finally over. Roman got up with a hop from Deceit’s lap, and Deceit looked concerned about Virgil’s hard expression while Roman messed with the movie disks.

   “Are you doing alright, love?” Deceit asked quietly.

   “I’m fine,” Virgil hissed and gripped Deceit’s shoulder, a little too rough for an affectionate side hug. Deceit didn’t seem fazed, at least.

   “Clearly,” Deceit drawled sardonically and rolled his eyes, shoving at Virgil irately.

   “Hey, um, is the neck tingling supposed to get worse? Because it feels weird. It feels weird, right?” Patton asked softly, no longer shaken from the film and popping their head out from under the blanket. They hadn’t watched the last half, so it must have been recovery time from their panic.

   “Oh, yeah, it’s giving me shivers,” Roman nodded in agreement as he put the next disk in the player.

   “Hot tub might help,” Virgil grunted, barely moving his lips to talk. He stared stoically ahead. The smell in the suite was overwhelming him.

   “Oh!” Patton perked up excitedly. “Will you join me, Lo-Lo?” They asked, dropping their blanket shield completely.

   “That sounds delightful,” Logan nodded and dropped his blanket, then got up from the couch. He offered his hand to Patton and Virgil cautiously released them, trying to keep himself under control. He took a deep breath in an attempt to steady himself, but that was a bad idea. The smell made Virgil grip at his leg and tear a new hole in his pants with his nails. No more air for him.

   “Virgil,” Deceit chided with a hard voice. But Virgil was done with breathing, so he didn’t respond. He shot a look to Deceit in response and shrugged. “That’s ridiculous, just go fight again,” He insisted pointedly, shoving at Virgil again.

   “I agree. Remington and Virgil need to take it back outside,” Emile replied airily, still a little dazed. “You did get cut off earlier,” He pointed out, lolling his head back.

   “I want to fight Deceit!” Talyn suddenly proclaimed and stood from the recliner, rolling their shoulders.

“Alright,” Deceit shrugged, letting go of Virgil. Deceit slid his suit jacket off and started rolling up his shirt sleeves. “But no tearing at the suit,” He added curtly. Virgil exhaled and looked around nervously. He didn’t want a repeat of earlier today.

   “Is… is everyone okay with me punching his face in and/or my face getting punched in?” Virgil’s tone was acrid with the strain, but he meant it with concern. He was looking specifically at Logan and Patton standing in front of him.

   “Kick some ass!” Roman cheered on the couch next to him. “I’m watching,” He beamed, heading to the patio door.

   “I suppose, though I am not fond of the idea of your face being punched in,” Patton crossed their arms and looked displeased but resigned.

   “I’ll punch where his liver would be if he was human, then,” Remy said brightly, getting up and dropping Emile on the couch. Emile giggled as he bounced on the chair from the height Remy dropped him. He cleared his throat and fixed his hair promptly when he saw people staring at him.

   “Do you have to?” Patton whined, looking sad and pouting out their lower lip pleadingly.

   “That feeling on your neck is going to get worse. Just have a nice time in the hot tub and try to remember they’re very hard to hurt and heal quickly,” Emile offered consolingly. Patton nodded, still upset, but headed off into one of the bedrooms in the suite. Logan went to the bedroom next to it but paused in the doorway.

   “You will be safe?” Logan asked Virgil, his eyebrows furrowed with concern. Virgil was positive if he opened his mouth he would hiss, and he looked to Deceit to answer for him. He didn’t want to be rude or scare anyone.

   “He will be fine,” Deceit reassured him, stretching out his arms. “No gifts and try not to think about your next move or we’ll both be bored,” Deceit said dryly. Talyn bounced in one spot with delight, looking intense.

   “You want to just brawl, babes?” Remy suggested airily, a lazy grin on his face spreading to show his fangs.

   “Remington, love, please don’t cause property damage. It’s not fair, anyway, it would be unmatched even if Thomas sits out,” Emile chided him, pointing at him with a disapproving expression.

   “Aw, but look at him,” Remington pouted. Thomas’s foot was tapping up a storm, and he crossed his arms as he sat on the couch with a scowl.

   “I’ll be better once you two shitheads go punch each other,” Thomas hissed, glowering at them. Patton gasped loudly from the room they were in. Virgil didn’t quite expect that language from Thomas, either, but was kind of impressed Patton could hear it behind a closed door. He wondered if they had good hearing before getting venom.

   “Let’s take it outside before things escalate any worse,” Deceit pulled Virgil off the couch and started shoving him towards the door to the patio. He was happy to be pushed out of the way because he felt roughly ten seconds from going for Remy’s throat if he moved on his own.

   As soon as the fresh air hit Virgil’s nose he breathed with relief, taking a deep breath of clear air. Virgil rolled his shoulders and neck to stretch out a bit, glad to be able to think again.

   “It really was fucking bad in there. We should open the windows,” Joan huffed, coming out next behind Virgil. “We should probably scatter after the third movie or Remy and Virgil might go for the neck,” Joan said, eyeballing Virgil’s exceedingly stiff stance as Talyn came outside with Deceit.

   “Sounds nice,” Virgil grunted darkly. “Get the fuck out here,” Virgil called to Remy. Remy shot out the door and tried to tackle Virgil, but he wasn’t having it this time and braced against the tackle just to have the angle to punch him hard as Remy rammed into him. They grappled for a moment and they threw Deceit into Virgil. Deceit pushed off of Virgil instantly and went after Talyn again. Roman cheered as Virgil successfully lifted Remy and threw him behind himself. Remy launched off of something to tackle Virgil from behind that sent Virgil rolling.

   Roman jeered as Virgil and Remy tumbled around, Talyn getting launched into them at one point, but Virgil’s sole focus on kicking ass without fangs or claws that he longed to use. Remy hissed as Virgil kicked Remy off of him. Joan went flying past for a moment, which confused Virgil, but attacking Remy again was his priority. He felt a powerful blow on Deceit, though, and tossed Remy immediately, launching off to protect Deceit on instinct, landing in front of him and taking a hit from Talyn, who froze as soon as they made contact.

   Remy came and tackled Virgil out of the way and they were back at grappling for dominance across the rooftop and over the edge onto which earned a scream from Emile. But Virgil flipped to the building side and managed to throw Remy back up before things got too dicey. Virgil ran up the wall to join him before they attracted any attention.

   “Be careful, you fucking idiots!” He heard Joan call as Virgil landed and went for Remy again.

   Virgil felt the urge to rip out Remy’s throat fade and he could have more fun with it instead of fighting himself with every hit. Remy smirked and landed a hard hit into Virgil’s side, so he must have been feeling similarly. They tossed punches, kicks, and each other for another few minutes. Roman cheered on Virgil excitedly, and Thomas applauded Remy in turn. Virgil spun rapidly to slam Remy to the patio by the arm, and Remy barely managed to change gravity polarity in time to avoid ruining the stonework.

   “Boo! Kick his ass!” Thomas jeered and Remy used his legs to flip Virgil swiftly onto the ground and they tumbled across the tiles. There was an opening for Remy’s throat he nearly took and had to bounce back for a moment.

   “What the-” Roman shouted as Virgil bit his own arm, careful not to penetrate his skin, before going back in to attack Remy and landing a punch right in his smug face.

   “Having fun?” Remy snarled and swept at Virgil’s legs and kicked him while he was down. Virgil twisted and grabbed Remy’s leg, causing them to grapple for dominance across the patio once more. “Come on babe, just one bite,” Remy hissed and Virgil had to punch him in the face to stop Remy from angling his head to attack.

   “I’m not a fucking venom junkie,” Virgil snarled, shoving him away with enough force to send him skidding a few feet. Remy dove to bite and Virgil struggled to push him off, opting to roll to dodge instead. Remy went in for another bite, and then there was a bright flash of light out of the corner of Virgil’s eye.

Personal Taglist: @elizabutgayer @ollyollyoxinfree

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[notebooknebula]

https://www.jayconner.com/nate-hare-on-real-estate-investing-minus-the-bank/

Nate Hare (00:00): So, back to what I was saying, if there’s any Quest clients out there or potential Quest clients you know, I’ll say this about the gentlemen on the call here is that ever since I moved to Texas about eight years ago and started working for quest dress company, I’ve run into, you know, a lot of different people, a lot of different educators and talk about all different types of ways to invest your money in your retirement money, real estate, non real estate notes, all sorts of things. And I think I met Jay, gosh! Probably it year two into the, into my move. So we’ve known each other for I would say probably six years ran into each other at other people’s events. And we’re familiar with each other. Jay used another self directed IRA company that shall not be named back in the day.

Nate Hare (00:52): But it was only always friendly, always cordial. And one thing that stood out to me about Jay is that he brought so much energy into the room when he came in to talk about using private money with retirement accounts. And even today when I go to events, there’s nobody that comes in with the amount of energy to talk specifically about that topic. And obviously that means a lot to us because we’re self directed IRA company. We have a lot of people that like to use their retirement accounts to land. And we have a lot of people that like to borrow private money from our clients accounts. So I knew right from the get go that at some point me and Jay would cross paths and hopefully work together. And ever since we’ve started working together, I’ve had a phenomenal time, you know, coming to your events, I got to say, I look forward to going to your events getting me out of the city of Houston and going out to MRI and is just a wonderful experience.

Nate Hare (01:56): And every time I go out there, I meet not only new investors but repeat students of Jay’s that continually go to his events because they know they’re going to get great content. They know they’re gonna have great networking and if the atmosphere is just second to none. So if you are looking for another opportunity to network with a group of investors, I think Jay Conner’s group is one of the best out there. Very caring people, very knowledgeable. And they speak the same language of all of us at Quest. So if you have not been to one of his events, I highly urge you to come to his events. We’ve got the free events that are coming up. I’m sure you’ll share some details on that. We’ve got three live events that are coming up and they all lead to a three day event. You know, not too long after that, but hopefully we’ll get back to the days where we can meet face to face and do some events. But Hey, it is what it is. And if you can

Jay Conner (03:00): take part in Jay’s free education and you know, the three day event, I would highly urge you guys to take part of that. Well, I’ll tell you, Nate I mean data is right back to you. I love you all the quest people, you all come from that space of having a servant’s heart. And I know that’s why you know, we hit it off, you know, ever since day one you know, you’re at all of my live events. These three free events that we’ve got coming up are all virtual and it’s going to be for your people, all of your Quests subscribers and followers, they get to come absolutely for free. And these are all big advanced virtually, you know, right here on the internet. We’ll be live streaming them just like we are here. But the first Friday is going to be Friday, May 22nd.

Jay Conner (03:51): The second Friday is going to be May 29th and the third Friday is going to be June the 5th. Now, all of this training all day long from nine to five. Of course you’re going to be joining me there as well. You’re going to be there on the virtual events. I’m sorry, [I wouldn’t miss it]. There you go. And so all of this training folks is going to be centered around how to not only survive, but how to thrive in the midst of uncertain times. And I’ll tell you folks, whether it’s Corona virus or something else, there’s always going to be uncertain times coming around the corner. So how can you thrive in the midst of Corona virus? And even more importantly on the other side of the Corona virus. Because even though our country is starting to open up to some degree, the effects of what we’ve gone through here are going to be lasting for quite a while.

Jay Conner (04:53): So let me tell you about these three free Fridays. So the first Friday is going to be centered around private money. How to get funding for your deals, working with people that have self directed IRA accounts or we’re teaching people about self directed IRA accounts. Y’all got 48 individuals, over half of them use their retirement funds at Quest. And none of them knew about self directed IRAs until I told them about it. And so I’ll be showing you how to put your teacher hat on and educate people about how they can use their retirement funds to actually invest into real estate. And if not, get you know, tax-free at least get tax deferred returns and do all this with no penalties but the IRS. So anyway, not only self directed IRAs using private money, but how to work with other people and locate people that have existing investment capital to fund your deals.

Jay Conner (05:56): It’s got nothing to do with your credit, nothing to do with your verification of income, nothing to do with your experience. These three Fridays night are going to be for people that are either new real estate investors or seasoned real estate investors that are looking for more funding for their deals. So again, that’s the first Friday where we focused on private money and I’ve got even more private money coming to my desk right now in the midst of coronavirus. And shut down the people who lost a lot of money in the stock market and they’re looking for a safe, reliable, and secure way to get high rates of return safely and securely. The second Friday, again, all free for the quest followers, IRA. The second Friday is going to be focused on foreclosures. Now, as you all know, foreclosures have been put on a stay they’ve been shutting down as well, but as my grandmother would say, all they’re doing is saving up spit.

Jay Conner (06:56): That stuff is not going away, and when they open it up, there’s going to be a way of not only foreclosures of people that were already in it prior to Corona virus, but you’ve got all these millions of people that have been laid off, they’re unemployed, and so now that’s going to be even more foreclosures. Well, I’m going to be teaching all day how to locate these deals. These are these people that are going through this time and serve them, how to help them in the midst of their crisis and also how to profit from that as well and create win-win scenarios. The third free Friday on June 5th is going to be about what I call, how to locate free private money. Some of the teaching, a strategy that day on how you can fund your deals without actually having to borrow any money. So anyway, those are the three Fridays. And Nate, I’m looking forward to you being there with me during this training and we’re going to get a ton of value, a lot of content to your Quest followers and subscribers. And we’re going to have a great time.

Nate Hare (08:08): Well, and can I add something? Is there’s a lot of people that have offered free days and free education and even do it, you know, over a three day period. I was actually surprised when Jay said that it was a different topic each day. So that’s something that’s a value to anybody out there. Because if you watch day one, day two’s going to be different and day three is going to be different and everything has its own educational component to it. So, and I’m sure absolutely sure that if you join in on any of those days or all three, you’ll walk away with some golden nugget or some learning, token that you didn’t know beforehand. So you know, why not? It’s free. Great people, great education and the content going to be different each time. So I think it’s awesome.

Jay Conner (08:56): So folks, if you have not registered yet, go ahead and get registered. You may be watching the, in fact here is the registration link right now. You can go right now to www.JayConner.com/Quest2020. Getting right on over there. You want to get registered now because I know we will fill up. Nate,Thank you so much for having me here on this on this short video to talk about what we got coming up. And I always look forward and love doing events and now virtual events with you. Well, thank you and appreciate all the support and I look forward to the events. Can’t wait. All right, man. Thank you.

[sadchappuccino]

Stuck

Pairing: Tom Holland x reader

Warnings: Angst? stuck in tiny space, language, fluff

Request: by anon, 13 and 42 with tom some enemies to lovers kind of thing? thank you and congrats!

Prompts:

"You are cordially invited to go fuck yourself.”

“Your existence gives me a headache. Go stand over there.”

———

You walked over the set, you were shooting the new Spider-Man movie and you loved it there. Marvel placed your name on the list and it brought attention to you. The only downfall was Tom Holland, he acted like he was better than the rest. It enraged you how he was so entitled.

“Y/n you are needed on set” Jon Watts says over the com. “Alright I’m coming” you went to the elevator and pushed the button to go to the right level. Just before the door closed Tom stepped in. You let out a big sigh, of course he had to be in the same elevator as you.

“Shut it alright, I have to go to set too” Tom snarked at you, your eyes widen at his harsh tone and you bit back a remark. “Ignoring me how kind of you” Tom crossed his arms over his chest. It flexed his muscles and you rolled your eyes at the clear action for attention.

Suddenly the elevator came to a halt and you stared at Tom who was close to the control panel. “What did you do?” you pushed him away and pressed the emergency button. “I didn’t do anything” Tom raised his hands in the air.

“Sure you did” you said sarcastically, while picking up the red phone in your hand. You placed it against your air only there was no connection. “God dammit” you muttered before you hit the horn against your hand. You tried to call again, but it didn’t work.

“Give me your phone” you said to Tom. “No, why?” he furrowed his eyebrows and stepped back. “Relax I am not going to bite you, the emergency phone isn’t working and we need to call someone to get out of here” you rolled your eyes for what seemed like the millionth time those few minutes. “Why not use your own phone” Tom remarked. “Wow I didn’t think about that” you said sarcastic, “Mine is dead, now give me yours or call someone yourself”

“Fine” Tom grumbled he reached into his pocket and dialed his best friend. “Hey Haz?...... I’m stuck in the elevator........ Can you get someone for me......... yes I’m stuck with her........ Just get someone.” the way he said her was with total disgust and a hint of anger.

“He’s calling help, might take a while though” Tom said disapproving, like it was your fault that you were stuck. “Alright” you mumbled.

There was an awkward silence in the room. Tom kept mumbling things under his breath, it was barely audible but it annoyed you to a new level. “Shut it” you snapped at him.

“I’m not doing anything” Tom smirked. “Well your existence is giving me a headache. Go stand over there” you pointed to the corner on the other side of the elevator. “Fine” Tom grumbled, you heard a faint sound of a string of curse words and you balled your fist as a restraint to punch him in his face.

You sat down on the floor and leaned on the wall. You placed your hand on your head and let out a big sigh.

“Why do you hate me?” Tom asked out of nowhere. “You’re the one to say, when I got here you acted like I was some no good piece of shit” you snapped your head to look at him with a glance of pure despite.

“I never did that” Tom scoffed. “You’re cordially invited to go fuck yourself Tom” you snarked at him.

“I don’t get you” Tom stated. “What is there not to get, not everyone likes you, maybe if you’ll stop thinking so highly about yourself you’ll see that” You sneered.

“You’re just overreacting” Tom sighed. “I’m not overreacting you cunt. When I came here on the first day you said ‘I’m Tom Holland but you already know that of course, so when will are first date be darling?’ That’s the worst thing to say to someone! You were a dick!” all your emotions crashed together. You had always heard what a great guy Tom Holland was, but when you came on set he treated you like a sex object.

“I did that?” Tom looked disappointed but you were not sure if he was disappointed in you or in himself. “Yes, you did, that was the moment I decided to hate you. It sucked because I hope we could’ve been friends”

“Y/n I’m sorry, now I hear it I understand why you act this way. It was just that- when I saw you I thought you were so beautiful and girls like that don’t normally like dorks like me, so I acted cocky. I did it wrong though” Tom heaved a sigh, all he wanted was to get to know you at the start but he made a wrong move and ended up in you hating him.

His thoughts were interrupted by a cute laugh coming from you. “What’s so funny?” Tom furrowed his eyebrows. “You called me beautiful” you were blushing hardcore. “So?”

“So, it’s funny that you did the annoying dick act because you think that I look good” you bit your lip softly. You were thrilled that Tom’s actual colours were kind and dorky because that was exactly your type.

“I mean I guess so, it’s not like actual me would have a chance” sputtered out. “Tom? Can I tell you a secret” you looked him in the eyes. You stalked closer to him, your face inches from his.

“S- sure” Tom gulped. “I like dorks” you muttered, your breath fawned over Tom’s face and it made him shiver in a good way. “Oh really?” Tom looked at you with nothing but admiration and it was a nice switch from it being hate filled. “Yes, so that means you do have a chance”

Tom didn’t waste a minute and pressed his lips against yours. Your hands travelled over his back to his hair and his hands were placed on your ass. His to have explored your mouth and you whimpered in his touch.

The door slowly creaked open but you and Tom were too engrossed in each other “Finally, the sexual tension between you two was too big” Harrison said behind you. “Oh god” you muttered, hiding your head in the crook of Tom’s neck. “Now can we go on a date” Tom asked you. “Yes we can” you pecked his lips again.

———

Masterlist

Taglist: @loxbbg (comment if you want to be added)

[satan-chillin]

Fair Game

(Chapter 2/2)

Summary: Sam and Dean encountered a completely different version of themselves. An AU of Episode S15E13 "Destiny's Child".

Pairings: Destiel & Samwena/Samwitch

Rating: T

Also available in Ao3

(Tagging @bcozwhythefuknot. Got delayed as promised. Sorry about that. 😛)

"Oh, shit. Dean!"

 Deanno stood and Sam followed where Dean lay prone. Deanno was the first to shake him awake, making Dean groan on the floor painfully. 

 "What happened?" Cas—local Cas—hovered over Dean. 

 Dean was awake but not opening his eyes yet. "Fucking cat," he muttered. 

 "Excuse me," said the other Cas, who Sam would call Castiel to avoid confusion. "May I?" he asked Cas directly, crouching at Dean's side with uncertainty. 

 "Yes," Cas said, moving over to Sam's side to give space for Castiel. 

 Castiel's palm was above Dean's forehead, bathing him with his grace. It didn't even last a minute before Dean blinked his eyes open to four faces. 

 Dean grunted and zeroed in on the two Castiel he was seeing. "I think I have a concussion."

 Deanno chuckled. "No, buddy. You're seeing my husband. C'mon, stand up."

 Sam and Deanno hauled Dean on his feet. Cas was behind him just in case. Dean shook his head, straightening. 

 He was okay. 

 "How are you?" Cas asked. 

 "Fine. Thanks, Cas."

 "It's not me. It's the… other me."

 Castiel took it as the chance to introduce himself properly. "I am Castiel Novak. I assume you're the Dean Winchester of this world." He turned to Cas. "And you are the version of me in here." He glanced at Sam with a frown. "I don't think you're familiar to me." 

 Castiel formally extended a hand over to Sam, which the latter shook awkwardly. "Sam Winchester. I'm Dean's younger brother."

 Castiel turned to Deanno questioningly. "You don't have a brother."

 "Eh. He's my brother from another world." Deanno flashed a grin. 

 From the other side of the room was Rowena's incredulous exclamation of "Impossible!" at Jack who was staring at her in wonder. 

 "Angels and Nephilims cannot coexist with humans. That's the natural order of the world," she stated to Jack who was staring at her in wonder. 

 "The fact that you can cross over another world shouldn't be either, and yet here you are," Jack pointed out, unfazed. His eyes darted past her. "Four of you."

 Rowena rounded over to them. "You're saying those two are not twins?" She gestured at Dean and Deanno. 

 "No, ma'am," Deanno said wryly. "Got here by accident as well." He attempted a cordial smile. "Are we good now? You and your panther won't attack us again, are you?"

 "That depends," she replied challengingly, eyeing Castiel in warning. He responded by sending her his own warning scowl. 

 "Can you please put away your cat?" Dean piped up irritatedly and warily at the still snarling black panther.

 Rowena seemed to be taking satisfaction at the way he slightly squirmed (Dean would complain that he wasn't) but decided to comply. "Merlin, stand down," she commanded. 

 The huge black mass of a panther glowed purple until it morphed into a sphere that turned smaller and out came a small black cat instead with sleek fur, its bell tinkling as its small padded feet made way to her. 

 Beside her, Sammy was just as astonished at the transformation, stupefied as she carried the cat in her arms. "Is that Merlin? As in our Merlin Merlin?"

 "Aye, dear," Rowena said, her patient smile jarring with her earlier ruthlessness. "Merlin is my familiar for years now."

 "You're a sorceress?" Sammy asked with the same astounded tone. 

 "Witch, actually."

 "Wow," he murmured, almost breathless. "My girlfriend is a witch."

 Sam cleared his throat when it was clear that Dean's about to go off with his mounting annoyance. "I think we should all sit down and get some facts straight?"

 Everyone agreed, and in Rowena's and Dean's case, begrudgingly. Castiel graciously offered to clean up the place with a snap of his fingers. Cas couldn't deny that he missed having the same amount of grace as before. 

 Seated across Sam, Dean, Cas, and Jack were Sammy, Rowena, Deanno, and Castiel. It was like the setup of an odd family dinner. Jesus, there should be a joke there somewhere. 

 At the unsettling silence that dawned over them and the suspicious eyes that were thrown among each other, Sam knew it was up to him to take the initiative. 

 “Okay,” he said. “So, uh, to our newcomers, welcome to this world I guess?” 

 There was a purr from the cat as if responding to Sam. 

 “Sam, don’t make it sound like an AA for interlopers,” grumbled Dean. “I need a drink.”

 Sam pulled him back down on his seat when he made a move to stand. “Sit down, Dean. We all have to be here.”

 Dean rolled his eyes but sat down. Rowena rolled her eyes in return, unimpressed. 

 “Right, so, as I said, this is my husband,” Deanno started, patting Castiel’s chest affectionately. “Castiel Novak. Babe, that is the other me, the other you, the other me’s brother, the other me and the other you’s kid, Jack.” He nodded at Sammy and Rowena. “That’s Sammy there, a Sam Winchester who doesn’t have a brother as well. We woke up here together. And, uh, you met his Lady.”

 “We did,” Castiel said stiffly, eyes not leaving Rowena. “She hurt you.”

 “Eh. Let bygones be bygones. Besides, it was just an honest mistake. Even Sam and I thought we were kidnapped. We’re not, of course,” Deanno supplied with all the intention of diffusing the tension that hung overhead like an oppressive cloud. “Truce?”

 “Yeah, she hurt me,” complained Dean. 

 “Dean, quit being a baby, you’ve had worse,” Sam remarked flatly. “Also, not helping.”

 Sammy had the decency to look away. “Um, yes, err, Rowena, you got it all wrong. They’ve been nothing but hospitable with us so far,” he told her gently. “Actually, how did you find us? Did you touch the rift?” 

 Rowena looked like she had something to say to Castiel. “No,” she said instead. “Not the same one. It closed once it got you. I have to recreate another rift, and, curiously, one of the ingredients is an archangel grace,” she squinted her eyes at Castiel when she spoke, “Creatures which I was told were already extinct.”

 “And it didn’t occur to you that maybe it’s not the case in another world?” Sam asked carefully. “Does your world have the Multiverse Theory?”

 “That’s fair,” she conceded. “And, no, we don’t have one, though the book I got from the old coven I was a part of contained a theory of other worlds. It was a theory until I got here myself after two months of searching for a way to recreate the portal.”

 “Wait—two months?”

 It was Rowena’s turn to be confused at Sammy. “You’ve been gone for two months, dear.”

 “Two? We’ve just been here for two hours!” Deanno said. 

 “Back in our world,” Castiel said, “You’re missing for two weeks, Dean.”

 “Oh.” Deanno frowned at himself. “Does that mean like I stopped aging or something?”

 “Of course,” said Jack, an ‘aha’ moment that wasn’t overt. “All worlds have their own concept of time. The same way the Empty, Heaven, and Hell exist with their own time-flow.”

 “The time and space continuum is different for each universe,” Cas confirmed. “It’s one of the influences as to why circumstances varied for each world.” 

 The way Cas mentioned Heaven, Hell, and this ‘Empty’ made Castiel realize something. “This world… Heaven is heavily involved among humans?”  

 “Before, in the grand scheme of things,” Cas answered, a thin line forming on his mouth. “Heaven has been weak recently.” 

 A flicker of understanding crossed Castiel’s features, observing Cas briefly before glancing at Jack. Castiel looked like he wanted to ask but held himself back from asking. “Heaven isn’t one to meddle with the affairs of humans,” he told them. “It has been a while since I was with my grace, but once I got an idea as to where Dean might possibly be, as confusing this has been so far, I did not waste my time arranging a way to cross the dimensional barrier.” 

 “Assuming it wasn’t the residents of this world who opened the first rift,” Rowena interrupted. “I think the better question is who did.”

 “There’s no need,” Dean said. “We know who it is.”

 Sam didn’t want to keep them hanging in suspense, uttering a single word: “God.”

 *** 

Sammy ran his fingers through his hair. Who would have thought that Sam and Dean were only scratching the surface of the kind of lives they have here? They made it seem that being hunters of this world was as simple as that. 

 It wasn’t. Not at all. 

 “I don’t like this, Samuel,” Rowena told him once they were alone.

 He and Rowena and Deanno and Castiel were given their own rooms to turn in for the night. Like after what Sam and Dean said they expected their guests to just sleep it off and think all of these a wild dream. He wondered if Deanno was faring better than him. 

 “We should get back home,” she urged. “I can replicate the same spell I used to get here. We can go back without their help.” 

 Sammy smiled. “I know you can,” he said confidently, thumbing her cheeks. He missed her. “Aren’t you tired, though? I don’t know how much of fiction is true, but, uh, I thought magic can be tiring.”

 Rowena stared up at him fondly before letting out a fond sigh. “Aye, it is,” she admitted. “And honestly, it has been a while since I last performed this level of magic.” She allowed Sammy to pull her in an embrace. “But I’d rather get exhausted now. I can rest once we’re safely back in our world. We can’t stay here, Sam. Not when God himself is after their asses.”

 “I understand,” he said, kissing the top of her head. “But just one night, okay? First thing tomorrow, we can go. I’m worried about you too.” 

 “Fine,” she grumbled against his chest. “We go at the crack of dawn.” 

 “Promise.” Sammy parted from her before pulling her with him to sit on the side of the bed. “Before anything else, I want us to talk first.”

 Rowena looked thoughtful, and for a moment there, Sammy thought he saw a hint of anxiety. She sat beside him, not letting go of his hand. 

 “Why didn’t you tell me?” Sammy asked, direct to the point. “It’s a rather big deal to keep a secret, don’t you think?”

 “Would you believe me if I told you?” 

 “I would have been convinced once you showed me magic.” 

 She scoffed, but her eyes were lit with mischief. “And I thought I already showed you my magic in the bedroom.”

 Sammy huffed out a laugh, his cheeks red. “You know what I mean.”

 “Then what guarantee did I have that you wouldn’t run from the display of the unnatural?” 

 “Are you seriously asking me this question?” Sammy asked. “Because you knew I wouldn’t have.”

 He wasn’t even sure why he was asking in the first place. He could guess that the reason was something deeper like a sworn witch oath or something that forbade witches from revealing the truth about themselves and sharing the existence of actual magic to someone ordinary.

 “I have another question—you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but I’m curious; how old are you?”

 Rowena flinched. “I don’t think you’d like the answer to that, Samuel.”

 “Why not?”

 She bit her lip. “You don’t want to think you’re dating an ancient relic.”

 His eyebrows rose. “That old?” he clarified. 

 Okay, so give or take a hundred years. Rowena had been with plenty of people throughout her years then. He wondered about them, and he thought about what kind of people they were. Were they like him? Could be. Maybe some were with magic like her. And, oh, could some of them be famous? It was possible that she could have dated someone who was a celebrity or a public figure back then. 

 Sammy couldn’t help that ugly pang that he wanted very much to shake off of him. Not only was she this high-class woman that he knew of, but she was also a special kind of human. And here she was, with plain ‘ol Sam Winchester who didn’t have the confidence to present herself. He must have paled in comparison to all those people she had in her colorful years. 

 “Sam?” Rowena called him, a worried frown on her face. “Are you alright?”

 “Um, can I ask you one last thing?”

 “Of course. Anything.”

 Sammy knew he wouldn’t be at peace as long as he let the question linger in his mind. “Why me?”

 She appeared to be composing herself for the right words. “I first noticed you because of the aptitude for magic that I sensed in you,” she answered. “I was looking for a purpose as a witch back then, and I thought having an apprentice was a good way to start. Obviously, it didn’t pan out that way, and I guess it was too late to get away from you.” 

 Oh. Sammy tried to keep away the disappointment from his face. In hindsight, he was expecting that answer. 

 It wasn’t even what he was that she noticed first; it was what he could have been. Maybe she did pity him for being the most invested in their relationship and felt guilty to break it off once she realized that he wouldn’t be this magical person she wanted him to be.

 Sammy could only imagine her disappointment. 

 Inside his pocket, the small velvet box burned against his thigh as if saying: I told you so.

  ***

 "You should sleep, Dean," Castiel told Deanno. "Tonight's events are understandably exhausting."

 "Aside from Rowena's cat, not really." Deanno shrugged. "I'm better, much better now that you're here." He smiled warmly. "And I won't sleep unless you join me."

 Castiel's eyes flickered over to the bed. "Would you like me to?"

 "What? Do I want to lie down with my husband at the end of the day? Seriously."

 "Dean, you know now what I am," Castiel said, his feet firmly planted on the floor. "I am an angel."

 Deanno grinned. "You are an angel."

 "I am literally an angel of the Lord, Dean."

 He smiled patiently. "And in case you miss it, I couldn't care less about what you are, babe."

 "You should. I kept it a secret to you, after all, and you married me without knowing," Castiel reasoned. "Doesn't it bother you that I am wearing a person?"

 Deanno raised an eyebrow, not put off one but curious. "Alright, that last one I don't know. How does that work?"

 Castiel explained the need for a strong vessel and told his husband of Jimmy Novak, the name of the vessel he was using. Jimmy's soul was already in Heaven by the time Castiel took over, with Jimmy's permission, of course. 

 "I was the guardian angel assigned to both of you," Castiel said quietly. "Jimmy was a devout man riddled with a terminal disease. His life wasn't long, but he didn't love it any less. He said that he found a friend in me." He tilted his head in remembrance. "And I in him."

 Castiel told Deanno that despite the fact that he was charged to watch over two people, he had been inclined to remain by Jimmy's side more, partly for his fragile health compared to the healthy and active Dean, and mostly for Jimmy's heightened sensitivity to the supernatural that very few possessed, less so was the capability to hear an angel's voice. 

 At the age of twenty-five, on Jimmy Novak's last breath before passing away peacefully in his sleep one clear morning, he said Yes to Castiel, and from then on an angel wore the face of Jimmy. 

 Jimmy was an orphan with no family to speak of, and the closest to friends that he had were the doctors and the nurses. For someone who had very little, he had been happy and wanted Castiel to understand and experience the world from the perspective of a human. 

 It wasn't forbidden, though it wasn't encouraged either to use a vessel to walk alongside humans and for a guardian to interact with their charge. But it was exactly what happened to Castiel when he mingled with Deanno's peers and becoming acquainted with him, then becoming friends, then a close friend, then a best friend… a confidant. 

 Then eventually his partner. 

 "If there was one thing I had the honor to experience for myself without Jimmy's stories, it was loving another person."

 Deanno hummed, lacing their fingers together. "Sounds to me, that you're more human now than an angel. In the end, it doesn't matter to me. You're my Cas and I love you. It's as simple as that."

 Staring at their entwined hands, Castiel supposed that he was worried for nothing. 

  ***  

When Sam finally admitted to himself that he couldn’t sleep, he stood and went to the library.

Upon his arrival though, someone was already there. 

 It was Rowena—well, the alternate Rowena. 

 She looked exactly like their Rowena, from the mannerism and the sarcasm, including the way she was reading the book and the mandatory glass of scotch on the table. The huge difference, maybe, was her willingness to change out of her black dress in favor of the shirt and pants left by some of the female Apocalypse World hunters. It was quite surprising to find her with a messy bun and plain clothes, something which he knew their Rowena wouldn’t be caught wearing. 

 She looked up from the book with an expectant look on her face that fell when she realized it wasn’t her Sam that came. 

 “Hey,” Sam said in a manner of greeting. “Can’t sleep too?”

 Rowena refrained from answering, gesturing instead on the book. “You don’t mind, do you?”

 “No. Feel free to,” Sam said. “Do you mind the company?”

 “No.” She wasn’t looking at Sam when she answered. “I don’t mind.”

 The silence within the span of ten minutes seemed rather awkward that Sam couldn't put a finger on why. It wasn't the same with Sammy or Deanno or the other Cas. 

 Surreptitiously, he peered at her behind the book he randomly grabbed to occupy himself.

 He probably should've hung around the kitchen instead, Sam thought. 

 Maybe it was the fact that he just saw Sammy and her smooching the hell out of each other like they were in some kind of a romantic movie. Like Sam literally saw himself kissing Rowena. It was… weird, for the lack of a better word. 

 It wasn't that Sam found it impossible—alright, a bit, maybe. But now that he thought back on how Sammy described her and with the way he was smitten to her that he wanted to marry her, somehow… somehow Sam could understand where Sammy was coming from. 

 Sam wondered how their Rowena was doing right now in Hell. It had been a while, and Sam suddenly had an inexplicable urge to talk to her, or see her, at least. 

 "What?" the other Rowena suddenly snapped. 

 "Wha—"

 "Why are you staring if you're not going to speak?"

 "Um, oh. Sorry. I didn't mean to—sorry."

 Rowena rolled her eyes and sighed. She glanced down in her opened book. It occurred to Sam that she wasn't really reading and was merely scowling at it, practically boring holes on the paper. 

 Sam cleared his throat. "Hey." He stood, making his way closer to her. "Are you okay?"

 It was the wrong question to ask, Sam realized once he sat down across her. 

 Her face was splotched with red, eyes on the verge of tears. It was too late to hide them from Sam, and she sent him a murderous glare instead as if daring Sam to point it out. 

 Sam wisely did not. 

 "Do you," Sam started carefully, "Do you want to talk about it?"

 She leveled him with a flat stare that only made her look resigned. "Why do you care?"

 "I know you," Sam said. "Other you, I guess. We know a Rowena too, actually."

 Sam noticed that it piqued her interest. She sniffed. "Oh?"

 "Mmhm. She was a witch too. The most powerful one Dean and I know of."

 "Was?" she asked a little sharply. "She died," she said, not asking. 

 "Yeah," Sam answered somberly. "She asked me to kill her in order to sacrifice herself to save the world." He huffed out a humorless laugh. "And now she's the Queen of Hell."

 Rowena was taken aback as if she was uncertain what to question first. She was better than that, however, and decided to settle with a look of utter interest. “Can’t say I don’t see myself being a queen, but Queen of Hell...” 

 She angled her head that hid her red-rimmed eyes, straightening on her seat—both of which were simple gestures that made her appear regal in her own way. She wasn’t far off her mark, Sam mused.

 “If it suits her, then it’s no question that it will suit you as well,” Sam offered kindly. “She likes it.”

 “No doubt,” she said wistfully. “If we’re roughly similar in our principles and share a couple of perspectives, then that means she’s running to the first convenient thing.” 

 “What do you mean?”

 “Are two together?”

 Sam was surprised at the non-sequitur. “Not that way you’re implying, no. I’d like to think we’re good friends, though.”

 Rowena’s mouth curled into a small smile. “To each their own world,” she whispered. “You know that she likes power, aye. I confess I was like that too. Before. Until I realize later in my long life that it’s the least I wanted.” Her lips twitched. “To her, it might be you, or not. It could be whoever, but it all boils down to a single… person.”

 “It’s Sammy to you,” Sam stated. 

 “Thank you for stating the obvious.” She snorted. Sam grinned and caught her staring for a second. Her eyes fell on the glass of scotch, not seeing. “It won’t be the same when we go back.”

 Sam took the hint, feeling a surge of sympathy for her. “I’m sorry.”

 “For?”

 “I don’t want to presume how he reacted to your, uh, secret,” Sam said. He did remember though that Sammy had been fascinated at her reveal earlier. Something must have changed once he and his Rowena sat down to talk about it in more detail. “Still, I’m sorry that he has to find it this way.”

 “And here I am who thought that he was like a child who found out that Santa was real when he learned the truth about me.” She swirled her glass thoughtfully. “But there’s a line there somewhere that he’s afraid to cross. You should have seen his face when I told him I’m old as dirt.”

 Sam would have laughed if not for the thin, unhappy line that her lips morphed into. It clicked to Sam like an epiphany. 

 “Wait. Is that what you’re worried about?”

 “Just because you have my Samuel’s face doesn’t mean that you get a free pass for mocking me,” she warned. 

 “What? No. I’m not mocking you,” Sam defended. “I’m trying to think about what could have gone wrong. You two were fine earlier!”

 “And it’s your business because?”

 Sam raised his hands in surrender. “I’m not saying it is, and sorry if I’m prying a bit here, but I think there might have been some miscommunication there.” Rowena was gradually becoming incensed, that was for sure. “Look, all I’m saying is that he clearly loves you too much to give a shit how old you are.”

 She scoffed. “And you know this how?”

 Sam could have easily told her that Sammy has a freaking engagement ring in his pocket as they speak, but he didn’t want to be a dick and ruin the surprise. “He told me.”

 Rowena appeared resolutely wanting to argue with that but couldn’t, not when Sam was clearly telling the truth. She fell silent. 

 “Just talk to him again?” Sam tried once more. “I don’t want to step on some boundaries, and you know him more than I do, but if Sammy and I share a few outlooks in general, then talking about that specifically is a good way to start clearing things up.”

 Rowena didn’t answer and remained studying Sam’s face, but somewhere in Sam’s mind, he knew his point reached her across. 

 It would belatedly occur to Sam that he just played the role of a relationship counselor twice in that evening. You never really knew. 

***

 They prepared for the following morning without much fanfare. 

 Sammy spied Rowena quietly as she was preparing the bowl they would need. Thank goodness the ingredients were readily available, and Jack was willing to part with his grace as an alternative to the archangel grace. 

 He ambled over to her with Merlin dogging (ironically) his steps. He couldn't sleep last night despite Merlin's comfortable weight nestled on his side (to think that Merlin could grow five times his size). And when he was close enough to see her face clearly, it seemed that she hadn't slept either. 

 "Hey," he said. 

 "Samuel," she acknowledged without looking at him. 

 "I didn't sleep last night," he told her. 

 Rowena paused, considering. "Me too," she admitted. 

 "I don't know how without you there," said Sammy. 

 She turned to him, her face softening. "You giant baby," she said, partly teasing, partly touched. 

 "Yeah. Well, you got me used to it." He took her hand, covering it with his bigger ones. "You know I love you, right?"

 "I know." She bit her lip without removing herself from his hold. "Look, Sam. I understand. If you don't want to be involved with me after this, I get it—"

 "I'm sorry—what?"

 "You—" Rowena hesitated, mildly surprised at his reaction. "Aren't you planning to break up with me?"

 "What? No!" Sammy exclaimed, face thunderous. "What gave you that idea?"

 "You certainly don't take kindly at my age, and as I said, I understand. It does feel like I catfished you. "

 "Why in the world should I care about your age?" Sammy asked. "That's not even my point here. And it's not like you look bad for someone as old as a century or so!" 

 "Well, if you put it that way…"

 "And really? Shouldn't be the other way around? In all your years, you don't even think, I don't know, that you're far from my league? I'm nothing compared to the people you've been with."

 "Samuel, are you hearing yourself? What utter shite have you been thinking?!" Sammy shut his mouth at that. "It didn't even occur to you that maybe the reason I'm with you right now and is ready to say 'yes' to your proposal is because I think that you're worth a hundred times more than all of them? Because you are, you moose!"

 "I… I am?" Sammy asked feebly. "Wait. You knew!"

 "You're not exactly being subtle recently," she told him with a sigh. "But my point is I want and I will say 'yes' to you because it's you, not anyone else." 

 "Oh," Sammy could only say, beet red. "This is like a reverse proposal or something. Um, I will still ask you formally later, of course. Back in our world."

 "I look forward to it." She reached out to pinch his cheek endearingly. Sammy pulled her wrist to kiss it. "And I love you too."

 They would be alright. 

***  

Within an hour, two rifts were opened simultaneously in the war room of the bunker. 

 Despite the short amount of time, surprisingly, an amicable exchange of farewells went around, with some begrudgingly and with unmasked relief (Dean) and an overall eagerness to go home (Rowena). 

 They were yet to cross the threshold, however, when a new presence appeared all of a sudden and saying:

 "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

 It was Billie who addressed the interlopers in time and was met with an instant hostility. 

 "And pray tell why we shouldn't?" Rowena demanded. 

 "Because your world," Billie nodded at Deanno and Castiel as well, "And theirs are already gone. Do you want to risk going back to ruins with no way to return here?"

 "What do you mean their worlds are gone?" Cas asked. 

 "I told you, didn't I? God has been a very busy boy, destroying the other worlds out there and wants this one to be left alone," Billie reminded him placidly. 

 Dean cursed at the background. 

 "Besides, do you honestly think that the four of you got in this world without a reason?" Billie spoke in that same placid tone. "We have a plan, and you'll be helpful in the next part of it."

 Sammy, Rowena, Deanno, and Castiel exchanged looks among themselves. 

 Did they even have a choice?