#who sets up these scenarios on purpose. never questions anything that happens to him ever

[swadloom]

Considering bringing my oc x canon back to artfight. I had him on there for a bit off season then chickened out and privated him before it actually started. So much embarassment tied to it all vs I accidentally made him my funniest character concept ever... oh hyacinth what to do with you

[starshipsofstarlord]

All mine

liam dunbar x reader / masterlist

summary; alec, scott’s new beta has a thing for liam’s girl, and sufficed to say, liam is anything but happy about the predicament / warnings; jealousy, smut, some choking, fucking in a playground, daddy kink, mentions of masturbation, mentions of phone sex, mentions of exhibitionism, oral sex (fem receiving).

the boy with anger issues was feeling a rage boil in his veins; they were in scott’s home, he had came back from college for a break, and thus, alec had joined in meeting with their alpha, though, not all his attention was reprised upon said pack leader.

there was a movie flashing upon the screen, you sat cross legged on the couch, whilst liam had been sent to the kitchen to grab a bowl of popcorn. he could feel his hand putting amble pressure on the plastic bowl, as he watched you explain every dumb thing occurring in the motion picture film.

alec was acting clueless on purpose, he could tell, more so since when he had first joined the pack, he had made such moves on you. and spoiler, eventually they had been successful. you were the same age as scott, meaning that you too had returned to beacon hills for your half term clause in the higher education, and liam wanted you to spend every moment with him, not this stray.

it took all his supernatural strength to restrain the growl threatening to rumble from his chest, his claws bent into the flesh of his palms, drawing a pooling of blood to the tether down from the self inflicted wound. scott smelt the blood, and wrinkled his nose at the scent that invaded his nostrils; he thought liam had his issues under control, but supposedly not entirely.

he couldn’t help himself, alec was trying his best, slyly glancing down your top, and he got he was only a hormonal teenage boy, same as him, but you were his girl. a rumble, resembling the natural force of thunder echoed around the living space, drawing all eyes, human and otherwise, in his direction.

the growl that had erupted from his chest had been possessive, a warning to the young, adopted beta, who quickly adjourned his arm away from the back of the couch, and shuffled from right beside you.

“li, are you good?” in an instant you removed yourself from where you were sat, walking towards him, and smoothing his shoulders over with your palms, watching as he heavily breathed. amber eyes flickered up to you, making you gulp; you now understood what had him so relentless and blunt with his aggression.

“i want to leave.” it wasn’t a question, it was a defiant statement. in turn, you nodded, grasping anything you needed, such as you jacket, and pulling it over your arms, liam quickly heading out, without bidding either of the boys a goodbye.

“see ya.” you waved at the pair, you would apologise for liam’s behaviour later to scott, he of course understood the situation nevertheless, he had been his alpha for a long time now. a hand grasped you as soon as you exited, pillowing roughly into your skin as he dragged you down the street, his pace quick and daring.

“you think i didn’t notice that beta’s eyes drifting down to your cleavage or him practically pawing for your attention.” he had stopped the two of you outside of a playground, you gulped, listening to him with an adjacent inclination.

“liam, there’s no need to be jealous.” your words had the priority of calming his angered exterior, though it happened that you had done rather the opposite. there was a firm line deposited between his dark brows, a frown that was aimed towards you directly.

“me, jealous? oh no, i know that you’re mine, but it comes to the question, do you?” he bit his lip, tensing the bridge of his nose as he moved his face closer to your own. “for all i know, at college, you don’t even let anyone know that you’re in a relationship, it could be your little secret, so you can fuck whomever you want.”

“that’s something i’d never do, you know that!” his accusations were flimsy, that much was liable, though although knowing that all his words came out of a place of secluded insecurity, you still felt the necessity to defend yourself. if you played his game, it would make him subconsciously doubt himself, and possibly believe the things that he was saying were true.

“do i?” the beta pried. liam made directories closer towards you, taking steps to discern your defence, letting his hand ravel up, and close around the front of your neck. your breath instantly hitched, as he wordlessly stated the power he had over you; not to mention, he was stronger, and he was irked, meaning that he would go to any lengths to prove his point, or lack of one.

“liam.” your hands came up to scratch at the exterior of his, worried that he would do some prominent damage, but rather than releasing his grip, he tightened his fist, triggering a hitch in your breath, and a uncoordinated, surprising moan to fly from your lips, as though your body was inherently howling at him for more.

“does my girlfriend like that? i think she likes daddy having his hand around her throat, don’t you baby? are you daddy’s dirty girl?” his slick words made your brain disintegrate into a contortion of confusion; more specifically, riddled with uncertainty, searching for a reason as to why his mature words were affecting you so.

there was no question about the matter, he was well adorned with the specifics of how it was affecting you. the reverberating of your heart thumped in his ears, like drums of a sacred matter, telling him how your hormones crazed, thundering with potential submission, that alternately had your knees quaking, fighting to remain standing.

then, there was the intoxicating aroma that scaled up to his nose from between your legs. that alone was a dead give away, he was lucky that it hadn’t killed him in the dead of night yet. being apart from you for so long had drove him borderline insane, one touch from you had him swooning, wanting nothing more for your hands to drift and intimately pet him.

phone calls, as erotic as some of them were, was just enough. the two of you were sectioned off for education in different counties, the distance pained him, in more ways than one. sometimes he’d wake up with a throbbing appendage between his thighs, begging for attention, more specifically, yours.

his hand got by, completing the job, but it wasn’t the same as the feeling of your sweet velvet walls encasing him likes an umbrella pouch, hugging his shaft tight as he rammed his length inside of you, preening moans of ecstasy out of your sinful mouth. the thought of such scenarios would have hun instantly hard in the school showers, leaving him frustrated for the rest of the day.

and though you had returned for a couple of weeks, he remained prominently stressed, never having enough contact with your skin that he had missed so much. he wished for nothing more than to spend it in a godforsaken rut, trapping you in the confines of his bed as he thrust in and out of you, but it so happened that isn’t how your return had panned out.

the luxury of the bed was not present, in its place was the soft breeze prickling at your skin, making every lingering, and restraining touch that he gave to it that more sensual. it was like nature was biting at your skin, plucking up the courage to adorn your flesh in small bumps, coercing your nipples into being erect, although, that was admittedly not all down to the wispy air.

your boyfriend had turned you on, his methods of doing so far different from anything that he had ever embraced before. whom would have ever thought that the once youngest member of the mccall pack would not forlorn in his youth, but instead want to demean his title as something as sexual as ‘daddy’? you sure as didn’t, but you couldn’t deny, it was kind of hot.

okay, more than hot, a lot more. “answer me y/n.” that’s right, you had gotten swept away with this whole new side to your partner, to say that you were drooling was an understatement, if he pointed it out, you’d blame it on him choking you. choking you! damn, he really had been reading up on some kinky shit whilst you were away.

“i do.” it was an honest answer, traded from you to him. though, it wasn’t entirely what he wanted to hear, you recognised that as he promptly squeezed your air way, causing your tongue to dip out of your mouth as you momentarily gasped for an ounce of breath. to spare you a second to respond, he pardoned his grip, stroking down the side of your face with the back of his stern hand.

“answer properly this time babe, else, i’ll fuck you over the swing set.” gulping, you locked eyes with liam, rubbing your thighs together at his prospect, inhaling heavily, as you felt him soothe his thumb rub upon the crevice of your chin, moisturising your own saliva into your skin.

“i love you choking me, daddy.” the word had a strange affect on your body as it rolled almost effortlessly off your tongue. instantly, verbalising the phrase had you feeling meek under the cold gaze of your boyfriend, a smirk ruling his face, as he clasped his knuckles into the dips of your waist, tugging you close.

“good girl.” he ushered the words into your ear as though he were a pro at doing so, lowering his palms to grab both your ass cheeks, a shocked squeal clawing out of the colander of your throat. “but i’m still going to fuck you over it, and i expect you to grasp onto the chains like you’re holding on for your life, and wail like a banshee that you are all mine.”

a slither of a sound, radiating utter betrothal escaped your withering lips, it was something between noise of a whimper, and a small moan. liam took that, and rightfully so, as approval to proceed with his intentions, and thus, he lead you through the gravel of the empty playground, directing his footsteps to the swings, and pushing you to be in front of him.

he bent your waist a little, so that you were hunched over, offering the perfect angle to generate pleasure for the both of you, as he began to tug your jeans down, letting the tight material meet with the croons of your ankles, and remain tethered around them.

“shit, you’ve already soaked through your panties baby.” liam soothed his fingers over the wet patch that opted through the thin material, brushing directly over your sensitive bundle of nerves, causing your mouth to wantonly drop open, in a silent beckon for more. “i can smell you too, you know, and damn, do you smell fucking divine.”

“daddy please.” the beg fell comfortably from you, there was no sudden recital to saying it once more. peculiarly, it felt natural, the dynamic between you and your partner being a stable structure to begin exploring further aspects that spectated in intimacy.

“sit on the seat, daddy will help you out darling.” trailing around the side of the metal structure, you carefully strode to do as liam has said, perching your ass on the swing, it lightly swaying from the impact of your weight upon the small dipped hammock. “there we go.”

liam knelt, scathing his covered knees upon the ground, as he ran his eager palms along the insides of your thighs, plucking at the band of your panties, before shuffling them down far enough so that he had all the access that he hungered for. the brisk whim that waded through the nighttime air had your pussy clenching, feeling the cold integrate against your folds, as liam puckered his lips.

he blew hot air upon your labia, enforcing your grip around the malleable metal chains to tighten, as you lightly shuffled the way that you were sat, spreading your legs a little wider, as your toes scratched relentlessly inside your socks, digging the front of your sneakers into the tarmac below.

your boyfriend leant forwards, swiping his tongue up your folds, causing you to press your head back, as you airily sighed from the contact, loving the way that his tongue delved around the area of your clit, swirling the bud in his mouth, as his teeth gently pinched the sensitive fumble of flesh.

“li- ah, daddy.” he had nipped at your outer lips, serving his actions as a form to correct how you had labelled him. “fuck, you’re so good with your tongue- shit.” his tongue slipped down into your entrance, thrusting the part of himself in and out of you, as you almost fell out of the swing seat.

“mmh.” your so called daddy hummed, sucking once more on your clit, before pulling his head away, as he stood, dragging you with him to force you to stand, delving his saturated tongue into the depths of your mouth, giving you no other option than to taste yourself on his buds. “what do you say baby?” his hand crawled into your hair as he bit his lip, staring with heavy lids at your flushed expression.

“thank you daddy.” a strong nod, he swiftly rotated you around, giving a light smack to your ass cheek, pinching the flesh, as he hurriedly undressed his bottom half, after fishing a loose packaged condom out of his back pocket. his tongue toyed with his top lip, as he ripped open the plastic square, rolling the condom onto his erect cock, giving himself a couple of jerks, as he steadied himself behind where you had hunched over once more.

he grasped his heavy cock, sliding his length through your smothered folds, teasing you as he tapped your clit, resting his hips flush against your own, as he pressed inside of you, causing an elongated string of obscene sounds to cast out of your mouth, playing a tune out of your melodically fawned lips.

a grunt tore itself out of his chest, as he clenched his fine jaw, digging his thumbs into your ass cheeks, as he began to move; delving deep within you, before pulling out of your tight walls, and rutting himself back inside of you. “fuck, feels so good da- ah!”

your natural sounds of pleasure drowned the surrounding area in an epitome of adulterated musings. adjoined with the sounds of liam’s skin slapping against your own, it was a surprise that no one had intervened, nor walked by. though, liam would have heard if they were in a nearby radius, with his supernatural hearing, that he had gotten through a set of canines digging urgently into his wrist, as he hung solemnly off the side of the hospital.

“you’re all mine, you hear that? those frat boys can keep their pervy gazes off of my girl, otherwise i guess i’ll just have to pay you a visit, and fuck you loud enough for anyone to hear.” he began panting, flowing his breath down upon your lower back. “yeah, you like that idea baby girl, how about i take over in the lecture hall and bend you over that desk, drilling into your tight cunt in front of every one so that they know that you belong to me?”

his half conceived promises, his taunting of you had you rolling closer to the edge, backing your hips backwards as you urgently met with his thrusts, forcing him to hip deeper into your cervix, a light growl prowling out of his chest, as he leant against you, angling his waist lower as he thrust upwards, his chest flat against your back.

“yes- fuck! please daddy, i wou- love that. love for you to fuck me for everyone to see, fill me with your cum, make me cu-um.” his heated breath strained against your skin, as your eyes fluttered, feeling succumbed to a white flush inside your veins, your body halting with it’s stability, resting helplessly over the swing seat, a she kept you steady.

“all mine.” your boyfriend stated, as he made you fall over the edge, ravenously thrusting into you to chase his own high. “gonna fucking cum.” a minor roar yelped out of his mouth, as his eyes strung shut, his shoulders relaxing as he emptied his seed into the condom, pulling out of your sopping cunt, as he removed the layer of protection, throwing it successfully in a bin a few feet away.

hazily, you went to stand, liam helping you pull your bottoms up, as he did so to himself too. he held you up, as he hoisted a passionate kiss onto your lips, a satisfied smile on his face once he pulled away. “i miss you so much when you’re away, i love you y/n/n.”

an appeased expression faulted your expression, as you reached up to entwine your hands together at the back of his neck. “i’m all yours li, or should i call you daddy?” you teased, causing a blush to fathom the apples of his cheeks. he looked down, an embarrassed poise covering his face.

“shut up.” he jokingly prompted, wrapping his arm around your shoulders as he began to walk you home, as you continued to tease him about his newly revealed kink, or multiple.

[mishasminions]

The Last Time I’ll Write a Long Post About Supernatural (15x18-15x20)

15 YEARS OF WATCHING THIS SHOW. 11 YEARS OF RUNNING A BLOG ABOUT IT. IT’S BEEN QUITE A RIDE.

[15x20 Speculation + evidence at the bottom]

First off, I just wanna come clean and say, after all these years, I still think they should’ve ended at Season 5.

If you’re going to come at me with “Then why’d you stick around to watch it if you didn’t like it?”, your question is immature, and the answer is simple: I just want to know what happens next (I also love the main characters and their actors too). You can watch a show and still think it’s shit.

Call me a clown, but despite all the disappointment and trust issues that this show has given me, I would still look forward to the day where it might just turn itself around and bring back the quality it once had, or realize the potential of each story it was trying to tell, or at the very least, do justice by my favorite ship.

Never happened.

They’ve had a few good episodes here and there. I can’t imagine the SPN Universe without The Man Who Would Be King, The French Mistake, and Scoobynatural. Seasons 6-10 were enjoyable at times. I blocked out most of 7 & 11-15. 

If you’ve been following this blog since its heydays in 2010-2014, you’d know I’d try my best to defend Destiel and this show’s decisions regarding it no matter what.

Because you know what, as a CONCEPT, this show is good. If you take a look at all the worlds its storylines have birthed in fanfiction/fanworks, you’d see how much Supernatural has wasted its own story arcs. The writing got shittier as each season progressed, and they’ve obviously given up in production as well because the quality in the execution has noticeably gone down too, but if you take a step back and take a look at the bigger picture, you’ll see that this show still tries to make sense of itself.

[If you’re still following this post, please bear with me, I know this is long, but I just want you to understand how jaded and pessimistic I am with regards to this show, so maybe you can buy into whatever hopeful thing I’m about to say later on.]

SO LET’S TALK ABOUT DESTIEL

Never in my wildest dreams did I think that they would give us Castiel’s “I love you” speech. To the point where, if I weren’t so desperate for it, I would argue that it was completely out of character for him to word vomit the way he did (but I’m not gonna diss on that right now because I’ll take what I can get).

I’ve valued every meaningful and obscure exchange that Dean and Cas have had in the earlier seasons, and I was willing to accept their relationship as just that--undefined, without any clear boundaries as to what they really are. And I think that was beautiful on its own.

But now, they’ve chosen to define it.

After they’ve driven every possible wedge between Dean and Castiel in seasons 11-15, to try to explain away their feelings as something they offer to a collective.

Dean can’t mourn and pray for JUST Cas, he has to mourn and pray for EVERYBODY--even Crowley, even some chick he just met, because god forbid he cries about just the guy who has given up everything for him--that would be “too homo”.

They’ve even set Cas on a path to abrupt fatherhood just so he can care about something other than Dean. Make it seem as if Dean wasn’t his purpose through and through.

And after all these years of this stupid show trying to deny it, they choose to acknowledge it at the worst possible circumstance, at a time where they’ve been so far apart, that it seems so foreign for them to suddenly come together.

But here we are. And they’ve chosen to tell us.

Chosen to tell us that everything that Castiel has done leading up to his death, he has done it because he was IN LOVE WITH DEAN WINCHESTER.

Chosen to tell us that the ONE THING THAT WOULD MAKE CAS HAPPY IS DEAN WINCHESTER.

Chosen to tell us that BEING WITH DEAN WINCHESTER is something that CAS WANTS BUT KNOWS HE CAN’T HAVE.

And they’ve also chosen to tell us nothing about how Dean feels.

Sure, finding out your angel made a deal, the stipulations of said deal, his newfound happiness philosophy, his long-winded monologue of why he loves you and why you’re worthy of his love, and to top it all off he tells you that being in love with you is enough to make him happy while he subtly hints that he’s always wanted to be WITH you romantically, was a lot to process in the 5 minutes after you’ve just had an existential crisis.

It’s whatever, right? Let’s culminate 11 years worth of tension and feelings in 5 minutes. Let’s waste the entire episode with cringey expository dialogue, and irrelevant sequences. The whole season was a waste anyway.

You know what Supernatural? FUCK YOU FOR THAT. They deserved better. WE deserve better.

And I would love nothing more than to hurl every possible insult your way,

But for the last time, I’m going to HOPE that you’re finally going to try to make it better for the fans that stuck by you all these years.

No more baiting new viewers, no more placating casual viewers, no more excuses. 15 years. Bring it home for the people who have actually been around.

SO HERE’S HOW I THINK 15x20 IS GONNA GO

There’s two ways this series is gonna end. Horribly or Spectacularly.

First let’s all take into consideration what Andrew Dabb says about it:

So, let’s start with

ENDING HORRIBLY

In this scenario, Misha is telling the truth about his last day of filming being 15x18. His “camping trip” during the last few days of filming 15x20, was actually a camping trip. He doesn’t go to Vancouver to shoot.

Jensen wasn’t “being careful” during the zoom interviews that it was just him and Jared quarantining for the shoot, it really was just him and Jared (althought most of these were done pre 15x19) Supernatural isn’t smart enough to do misleading PR, and they’re once again oblivious to the potential of their own story.

Misha hasn’t posted a “Goodbye Castiel” tweet because he’s probably saving it for last episode or he forgot because it was overshadowed by the Destiel trend that night.

So what we get is:

Sam and Dean are on the road again, up against the monster of the week. Only their world no longer has actual Supernatural beings anymore, so the monsters they’re fighting are humans.

Humans end up killing the Winchesters (despite having gone up against literally every powerful being imaginable INCLUDING God himself). Dean and Sam end up in heaven and relive their greatest hits.

Meanwhile, Castiel rots in The Empty because he died after realizing that he was happy and gay. Jack doesn’t bother rescuing him—his surrogate dad, the guy who made this specific deal to spare him—even though it was so easy for him get Cas in and out of The Empty when he had a fraction of the power that he has now.

Dean never speaks of Castiel’s confession because despite all the hints of a profound bond in the earlier seasons, and the fact that Dean has never cared for anyone (who isn’t his actual brother) as immensely as he does Cas, Supernatural just can’t have its main macho character be “suddenly bisexual” because that would hurt the male ego or some shit.

His heaven would probably be living happily ever after with his family. “Family” meaning Mary and John Winchester--two of the shittiest parents ever (but they’re not going to include them in this episode like they were supposed to because of Covid) and Sam.

Sam also gets a dog. As usual.

I wouldn’t put it past Supernatural to do this. After everything they’ve pulled, this would be right up their alley. I actually expect this ending.

Anyway, onto the next possible ending

ENDING SPECTACULARLY

In this scenario, Supernatural tries to stick the landing, and Jensen’s whole “It didn’t sit well with me at first, but then I took a step back after talking to Kripke, and realized that I had to view it from an audience perspective, I am now really excited about it” (DC Con 2019) anecdote about his thoughts on the final episodes, were actually about Dean potentially ending up with Cas. (Which would totally make sense because Jensen at first didn’t see Dean as anything but hetero, but as of late, he has been throwing in Destiel jokes of his own, so he seems to have warmed up to the idea)

Backed with Misha’s tidbit (DLConline 2020) that he and Jensen had conversations about Destiel, and that they wouldn’t have gone through with it if Jensen wasn’t onboard with it, but Jensen didn’t push back at all. (Why would they need to check with Jensen if it was just Cas going all in?)

Robert Berens (writer of 15x18) also wrote the script at the beginning of Season 15, but made Misha privy to the concept a year prior (Season 14), so they went into this season knowing about Destiel going canon.

This one’s a reach, but this scenario also supposes that Misha was lying about his whereabouts during the filming of the final episode, and him saying that 15x18 was his last episode is part of the diversion to avoid taking away from the weight of Castiel’s death.

And that Supernatural is actually self-aware of its own material (similar to how they have wrapped things up in the past—lots of expository dialogue, poor execution, but fulfills the story arc)

Since Season 15 is basically a Meta Season (Chuck/God as a writer, pretentiously calling out how he created the worlds, its characters, and basically invalidating the past 14 seasons), and 15x19 is supposedly the finale for Season 15, written by two of the worst Supernatural writers, Brad Buckner and Eugenie Ross-Leming (Bob Singer’s wife), then we can assume that 15x19 is where the shitty writers kill themselves--as Chuck, of course.

So we get a badly written episode that produces a bad ending, or as Becky put it, “All action, and no Cas”

So we get the bad writers season ending at 15x19.

And 15x20 is where Sam and Dean write their own stories, and where the cast had a hand in pitching ideas for it.

Dabb has mentioned that 15x20 (Act Two) is a SERIES finale, where they try to resolve the characters’ journeys.

Because as everyone has acknowledged, Supernatural isn’t about the story, it’s about the characters.

So here’s what we can get out of it:

With no more Supernatural beings left to fight, Sam and Dean are in a stalemate. They’ve resigned themselves to fighting to the bitter end, but the “end” has passed, and they’re still standing.

So they try to figure out who they are now, and what they want out of the life they still have.

Sam still wants a normal apple pie life. Before Dean dragged him out of college to go hunting with him, he had a whole life planned out for him. Become a lawyer, settle down with a nice girl, and get a dog. He gave all that up because they had work to do, but now the work is finished, he can finally go back to wanting that for himself again.

Dean finally realizes his self-worth after Cas saves him again. His prayer to Cas in purgatory may have helped him come to terms with his anger, but the whole “you’ve done everything you did for love” speech finally put him in his place, and he learns not to hate himself anymore.

But of course, he cannot fully reconcile with himself if he doesn’t get Cas back, and tell him how he feels.

Because Dean actually wants something for himself this time. Something he knows he can finally have if he can just salvage it.

So maybe this time around, with the help of Jack (off-screen), Dean saves Cas. Grips him tight and raises him from perdition.

They bypass The Empty deal by turning Cas human, and he lives the rest of his days with Dean.

Dean and Cas know they deserve to be saved, and they know that they deserve to be happy.

(Wishful thinking, maybe they kiss a little)

Anyway...

I’m just saying, there’s NO WAY that they’d have Cas go through that whole rushed speech, if they weren’t going to do anything about it later on.

But again, after 10 years of disappointment, I wouldn’t put it past Supernatural to pat themselves on the back and say, “Okay, we sort of gave them what they wanted. We’re good now”

If that’s the case, Supernatural, I’m sorry I wasted my time on you.

Here’s to hoping 🤡

[yoonpobs]

bad boy good thing xii.

pairing: jeon jungkook x oc

genre: angst, smut, fluff, miscommunication (we hate her lol), pining

warnings: smut, jungkook is really an asshole, the angst hurts a lot tbh, unhealthy relationships (?)

words: 5, 488

summary: a series of drabbles where you're confused and jungkook's confusing

a/n:

here is chapter 12!!! hope you guys enjoy it hehe.

You got a new doormat, Jungkook realises.

He preferred the old one, purely because he remembered the two of you coming across the crocheted piece at a flea market sold by a lovely grandmother that was all smiles and kindness when she spoke to the two of you.

It allowed Jungkook to be a part of your home, the first step into the place that inflates his chest with pride knowing that such a small memory that the two of you shared could act as a conversation starter for people who came over; because truly, the doormat was beautiful.

It’s a plain one now. Far more boring than the array of colours that use to litter the floor, a simple circular mat in a plain shade of beige. Jungkook doesn’t want to know why you’ve opted to change it after a year, right when things have gone sour.

The mat isn’t the only thing that’s different. Even the way Jungkook lingers by your porch at almost midnight with his fist raised and flopping back to his side is different too. Usually, he’d drop you a text, pick at the key in the crevice of a corner you hid it at, or just knock on the door with obnoxious intent until you’re scowling while you greet him at the door.

This time Jungkook has his chest caved in, a heavy feeling in his stomach when he attempts to mull over the apology that rests in his throat. It’s long overdue, a proper one at least. Nothing like the one he gave you at your apartment a month or so back. That was him being selfish.

The words ‘can we talk’ never meant anything good, because if it was light-hearted and civil you’d let him know through a text. Especially when you made it clear that you needed, and purposefully took, time away from him. It felt shitty, having your friends distance themselves away from you because of your own mistakes.

But Jungkook couldn’t resent you, or Jimin, or Taehyung—or even Namjoon who opts for curt nods instead of the usual pat on the back. Because he knew that what he did was awful and that you and everyone had the right to be disappointed in him.

Maybe that was why he was so terrified because had anyone else said or done the same things he did to you—Jungkook would make sure that person would never see the light of day. So he’s terrified, even if he knows you won’t hold him against it—but he’s so scared that you’ve realised how flawed and disgusting Jungkook is and that you’d leave him.

He’s stalling. Prolonging his potential demise when he stands rooted into place with his leather jacket draping his shoulders feeling heavier than usual.

When Jungkook got the text, he was at the gym; blowing off steam. He saw it an hour late, and when he realised it was from you—his heart sped up while his stomach dropped, especially noticing the time it was sent.

He knew he had to act quickly; what if you were asleep? What if he knocked and you realised that you didn’t want to see him anymore?

But Jungkook realises that not talking to you, or not seeing you—is far worse than any of the scenarios he could conjure.

So he takes a deep breath, steadies his fist and knocks.

In a bated breath, he waits; and he’s nearly sweating even under the cool ventilation of the hallway of your apartment. He hears shuffling inside your house, and he feels his heart thump against his chest when he feels rather than anything else, your presence behind the door.

He wonders if you’re hesitating like he was, but he can’t think for too long because the door opens and he sees you.

You’re in your pyjamas, an endearing two-piece set he remembers Taehyung gifting you for your birthday last year. It suits you, highlights your personality because the colour is a calming turquoise, dark enough to feel cosy and bright enough to resemble your character.

Jungkook can only blink at you because it feels like ages since it was just the two of you, and he can’t bring himself to say anything, or even to greet you.

Your hand rests on your door, while you offer him a meek smile.

“I told you the door was open.” You say softly, stepping aside so he can enter.

Jungkook swallows, snapping out of it before he nods his head slowly. He walks into your apartment tentatively, and it feels so wrong. The awkwardness, the tense postures and the uneasiness that permeates the air. Things used to be so easy with the two of you, conversations flew and the two of you just … clicked.

“It didn’t feel right.” He settles for that as an answer, and he notes that you don’t deny it.

“You can leave your jacket on the coat hanger.” You tell him, and he has to push aside the way his heart drops at the distance you keep; prevalent in your voice.

He wants this to be over, the tiptoeing and the way that your walls are always up when he’s around. He just wants to apologise and hug you, hoping that you could forget what happened even if that kills him on the inside. He just wants to be around you, even if he can’t be with you.

But Jungkook pushes aside his desires; the culprit behind the entire mishap in the first place—and slips off his jacket, leaving it on the coat hanger as you mentioned. His t-shirt chafes, and he’s sweating for sure now. But he pretends like he isn’t a step away from a nervous meltdown.

“Have a seat,” You say, patting the spot across you on the couch.

It’s a distance away, and he assumes you do that on purpose. The last few times the two of you were close on a couch … well, things happened and now the two of you were the way you are.

Jungkook sits, resting his palms on his thighs stiffly like he was sitting for an interview. Your eyes drift to his hands, narrowing ever so slightly before you’re returning your gaze onto him.

“What happened to your cheek?”

Jungkook stutters for a second, brain pausing to process your question until his hand reaches up to touch said cheek. He remembers clearly now, and he almost forgets the reminder Jimin left him.

Your brows are furrowed, and he sees you shifting in your seat. Usually, you’d already have walked up to him and helped him with an injury; the past memories of him injuring himself during practices while you were always there to mend him up like you’ve always done resurface. His heart clenches.

“Practice,” Jungkook says quickly, and you raise an eyebrow. Your mouth opens, possibly to counter it, but it closes immediately after.

Jungkook releases the breath he was holding, relieved. He didn’t know what Jimin said to you after, or before it happened. But he knew that you definitely weren’t aware of the conversation Jimin had with him.

“You don’t have to be so stiff, Jungkook.” You frown, “It’s just me.”

Your voice interrupts his thoughts as he snaps his head to stare at you. You’ve managed to rest yourself on your couch, hands tucked under your thighs in an endearing habit you’ve always had.

It’s because it’s you, he’s nervous; Jungkook thinks.

Instead, he says—“Okay.”

He relaxes his posture to appease you, settling into the couch until he sees you giving yourself a soft enough nod of approval.

The atmosphere is almost reflective, the two of you clearly have things to say and to address, but he doesn’t know whether or not to start; to say something when he was the one that was invited over. Clearly, you had a plan—that was only ever why you did the things you did. You were meticulous with routine and order, and any disruption to that would mess with your agenda and you hated that.

The two of you sit in silence, unsure of what to say. Jungkook nibbles on his lips as a nervous habit, bouncing his thigh up and down while he waits for you to break the silence, to say something.

But at the same time, he’s afraid he won’t be able to accept what you tell him.

Jungkook is about to break first, but then you speak, so softly that he strains his ears to catch your voice.

“You hurt me.”

Your voice is weak and timid, and Jungkook’s eyes widen when you opt to start the conversation with that.

It feels like a blow to the chest, seeing you look down at your hands while you furrow your brows, unsure of yourself. Jungkook wants to reach out to you, to apologise, to hold you, to comfort you. But your words are a reminder that he can’t.

“I’m—”

“—sorry. Yeah, I know.” You say blankly, finally looking up at him with a vacant expression. It’s almost terrifying how … detached you made yourself seem to the conversation. And it sets bubbling anxiety in Jungkook’s stomach when he spots your expression.

He purses his lips, remaining quiet while he waits for you to continue.

“I didn’t come over so you’d apologise to me, Jungkook.” You whisper, looking at him with a more serious expression.

He blinks at you, taking in the way you just look … tired. Bothered. Frustrated. All three.

“I …” The words die on his lips, especially when you opt to look away, down on your thighs while you nibble on your lips.

“What you said to me that day was horrible.” You tell him, eyebrows furrowed. And he can tell that you’re trying your best to sound stern. Confrontation has never been your forte, he knew that; and you knew that. But the fact you acknowledged his words only makes him feel infinitely worse. “I never knew you would ever say something like that.” You end in a whisper.

Jungkook can only sit in silence, and it’s crazy how he can feel like an outsider in his own home when you mull over your next set of words.

“I want you to be honest with me, Jungkook.” You say softly, eyes peering up to stare into his.

His breath hitches, especially when he notices the determined expression that lingers when you continue to look at him.

He swallows, even if his heart is terrified that the truth will chase you away, “Yeah. Always.”

You blink, searching his face for any lies, he supposes. If you found one or saw the hesitation, you don’t comment on it. But Jungkook is still scared to have his cards on the table. He doesn’t know how you’d react, how you’d feel when you found out the truth.

A part of him wants to just apologise and move on, keeping you close enough for him to be selfish but a good distance away so he wouldn’t hurt you like that ever again.

But he doesn’t say anything, not yet.

“Why?” You ask in a hoarse whisper, “Why did you kiss me that night at your place?”

Jungkook freezes.

He remembered that night when his heart decided for him that it was enough. Having you right next to him but not with him. He remembers the way you looked so at home on his couch, in his shirt after you spilt hot chocolate on the both of you. The way you timidly asked for a blanket to share, and especially the way your cheeks flushed when he drew closer.

Jungkook feels vulnerable like you’re picking apart every single thought that lays in his mind. He hates it, that you can make him feel this way. You don’t push him, though; to answer. You’re patient when you look at him, eyes gentle.

“I—” He chokes, eyes darting everywhere but your own, “I just wondered what it felt like to kiss you.”

You frown, clearly displeased with his pathetic answer.

But you don’t call him out for it, “Okay …” You mumble, “Then why did you touch me after?”

The words leave your lips so easily, even if Jungkook winces. He’s seen you almost naked enough times, even if you’ve never gone further than him touching you intimately—it’s more than you’ve ever experienced and it should’ve made you flustered, not him. But Jungkook realises that you probably ran over the questions you asked about a hundred times before you laid it all out here for him to see.

Jungkook huffs, ears turning red.

“The mood just felt right.” He clips.

You glare at him when he offers another pathetic response.

“Jungkook.” You call out to him. He can’t bring himself to look at you, “You said to be honest with me.” Your voice is soft and gentle when you remind him.

Jungkook feels himself crumble on the inside, his face morphing into a pained expression when he rubs his hands all over his face.

If you’re aware of his internal meltdown, you don’t comment on it.

“I did a lot of thinking on my own.” You say, “But I don’t think that would’ve gotten me anywhere because all I do is overthink every possible situation.” You laugh softly, fiddling with your thumbs.

Jungkook furrows his brows at the sudden shift of the direction of the conversation.

“I spoke to Namjoon and Jennie.”

He freezes.

His heart drops because he almost forgets about Namjoon. He almost forgets the way he cradled your face so gently when your lips touched. He remembers how he felt, the way his heart dropped to his stomach when he saw his captain and you locking lips while you melted into his touch. He wondered if Namjoon tasted your hesitancy on your lips, not because it was him but because you were always calculated with anything that you did. A charm that drew Jungkook in, and apparently Namjoon as well.

But even if his heart aches, he hears the name of another person; and somehow this only makes his face pale further.

“You spoke to Jennie?” He sounds surprised, and he thinks he has the right to be. Especially when you once referred to her with so much vehemence he’s never seen in you.

“Coincidentally.” You nod. “She offered me a few perspectives I never knew of until we spoke.” You fiddle with your thumbs before offering a small smile to him, “She’s a really nice person.”

Jungkook doesn’t know how to react, especially when you’re telling him that you and Jennie somehow spoke to each other and that you found her words … nice? It almost felt like the world was pulling a joke on Jungkook, and he was ultimately just confused.

“I … okay?” Jungkook tilts his head to the side with a furrow of his brows.

You sigh, “I don’t think I told you this the first time you apologised but …” You take a deep breath; a beat of silence passes when you look at him earnestly, “I forgive you.”

Jungkook’s breath that he was holding, releases in relief as his shoulders slump. A selfish part of him knew that you’d forgive him, only because you were incapable of seeing the bad in others. You were kind, understanding and empathetic. You always gave people chances when they didn’t deserve it and Jungkook was no different. But hearing you say it, after months of ruminating over it in his bed before he sleeps, Jungkook feels a lot better, albeit the ache in this chest.

“Not because you apologised to me but because my heart deserves to heal.” You inform him.

Jungkook purses his lips as he nods in understanding.

“I know that an apology will never take back what I said to you but … I really am sorry. I don’t know what took over me that day and I just—” his eyes flutter shut when he recalls the broken expression on your face, “—I regret it so much. I never wanted to hurt you.” He ends softly.

Jungkook shifts on his seat, reaching forward so that he could grab your hand. You jump at the sudden touch, but you relax when you realise it’s just him. Your skin is soft, and maybe it’s because he nearly forgot how it felt to have you close. He’s selfish, he’s always wanted you but he never knew how to ask.

“I guess.” You say softly, shrugging your shoulders. The response is there, though he doesn’t know what to make out of it. “But you said it for a reason, Jungkook. I just … I just want to know why.”

His hand freezes on top of yours, especially when you return the hold and unconsciously fiddle with his knuckles like you used to, tracing over the tattoos he has.

“I’m an asshole. That’s why.” He sighs, leaning his head forward as he misses your frown.

“I don’t think you are,” You say gently, squeezing his hand. And he hates that you’re still so kind to him. “I think you’re confused. But you also know why you did what you did. You just won’t tell me.”

Your accusation causes Jungkook to shoot his head up as he stares at you with wide eyes. You don’t waver, especially when your smile is still sincere and small as you offer him an encouraging look that he knows he doesn’t deserve.

“I really don’t have an excuse,” Jungkook frowns.

“I’m not looking for an excuse, Jungkook. I’m looking for a reason.” You remind him gently.

He purses his lips, eyes darting away until he feels your body shift and a warm touch cradle his jaw. His body freezes when he feels your gentle hand to cup his jaw and nudge it until he’s looking at you again. This time, your eyes are still calm and soft when you look at him, and your smile is still the same. Jungkook hears the thud of his heart in his ears, especially when you’re so close.

"No more games." You trace your hands gently across his jaw, and he looks so much younger. You suppose it's the lights of the room, two lights turned on with the rest off. Just the way he liked it—just as you remembered.

Jungkook states at the shelf in front of him when his jaw clenches. He can feel the conflict behind his gaze. It isn't frustration that peaks through, instead; it looks a lot like fear.

He finally breaks with a sigh, "No games." He affirms, hands tightening by his sides.

The position is getting uncomfortable but the ache in his chest has been present for months, so he thinks a few more minutes here with the promise of an answer would be nothing. But he was equally as terrified as he thought you were.

Jungkook briefly thinks of Namjoon when you wait patiently, deep in thought. Because Namjoon was nothing like him. He'd give you an answer by now. Unravelling the tangled yarn in his mind just so you could catch a piece of his thoughts.

No. Jungkook was a thinker that often never spoke. His ideas and visions trapped in the confinement of his brain and left for others to hypothesise. But you were patient, somehow your most redeeming and costly quality. It's funny—because he’s always said that you were exactly what he needed.

"Jungkook?" You whisper.

Jungkook hums, eyes slightly twitching when the tip of his ears turn red. It's difficult for him too. But he’s waited for far too long.

"You promised." You remind him gently.

Jungkook takes the leap when he realises that you weren't backing down.

"God." He huffs, falling back onto his couch while you observe him with sad eyes. He felt so ... scared. "I'm so in love with you that I can't even think straight when you're around me.”

Your hand freezes, and he doesn’t even feel terrified when it drops from his face. He can only stare at the ceiling after his words leave his lips. It’s out there. The selfish part of him won and he can’t ever take it back. He can’t find the courage to look at you, not when the silence is so loud and his heart rings behind his ears.

So he continues.

“I just wanted you.” He croaks. “It’s always been you and you looked so … at home when I kissed you the first time. I was selfish. I thought—” His eyes shut, as he takes a deep breath, “—I thought I could at least pretend that you were mine when I touched you. Like you were meant for me and no one else.”

He can’t stop, his heart pouring out everything he’s felt.

“And fuck. Every time you’d say we had to stop what was happening I felt like I was losing you. I just … I just wanted to be someone to you that wasn’t your best friend. Or some younger guy that you knew while growing up. I wanted you to see me as a man. Like someone, you could rely on or be with. Because that’s who you are to me. Someone I can rely on, someone I want to be with.”

He hears your breath hitch.

“Jungkook …” You murmur, “Then why … why did you kiss Jennie? Why were you with her if you already had me?” Your voice is sad, soft and meek when you ask the question Jungkook selfishly wants to avoid.

He sits up abruptly, nearly knocking your forehead with his when he grabs your shoulders as your eyes widen. His eyes are desperate when they peer into your own.

“You didn’t deserve anything I did to you. The words I said. The thing with Jennie.” He groans, resting his forehead against your shoulder as you hesitantly reach a hand to cradle the back of his head ever so gently. He automatically relaxes your touch enough to calm him. But he’s still frustrated, scared, and he doesn’t know what to make of your reaction; or lack thereof.

“Jungkook.” You call his name softly, reaching to hold his shoulders while you look for his eyes.

“Yeah?” He says emotionlessly, almost defeated when he peers at you.

You nibble on your lips, thinking over your words before you squeeze his shoulders.

“Why … why didn’t you say anything?” You ask softly, and if he wasn’t crazy—he swore he heard some sadness behind your voice.

He scoffs, and the reaction has your eyes widening.

“And then what? You don’t feel the same and I would’ve just … ruined everything. I know I did when I kissed you but at least I could pretend like it was … casual. Like it meant nothing to me but a fun time.” You wince at his words, and he sees it. He frowns when he realises the words he threw at you a while back the first time he’s seen you break. “It wasn’t. I just … I couldn’t handle you rejecting me. It … it’d hurt too much.”

It was a selfish part on his end, and only after the silence that passed does he look up to see your eyes already trained firmly on him—a wave of sadness that washes over your features.

“You should’ve spoken to me, Jungkook.” You whisper, hands reaching out to hold his cheeks. Jungkook almost huffs but you beat him to the indirection. “I wanted you too.”

Jungkook’s body stills, eyes widening when he peers into your eyes. You smile sadly at him, and he feels everything come crashing down all at once.

The months that the two of you went without talking to each other, the kisses you’ve shared, the way you feel under his arms, the way your back arches, the giggles you’d share with him. All of it becomes more than just a memory now, but it’s still painful. The way his silence caused all of the problems he thought he couldn’t solve.

It feels … sad.

“What?” He chokes.

You nod your head, holding his cheeks gently.

“I wanted you. But you didn’t choose me. You chose … yourself.” You say softly.

Jungkook frowns, “I just—I thought … how?”

You offer him a sad chuckle, “Jungkook, I don’t think you get it. I love you, I really do. The signs were there. You’re the only person I’d ever want this way. You’re the person I think about on a daily basis and I find myself looking for you even when you're not there. Even when you said the things you did, or whenever I saw you with Jennie. I still wanted you. And that’s why I needed time away.” You inform him seriously.

“So we could have—?”

“I don’t know if you really love me, Jungkook.” You say sadly, eyes darting away that makes him want to comfort you. “Maybe I’m familiar to you but I can’t believe you when you say you love me if you had Jennie and me under your hold when everything happened.” You say with a serious gaze.

“I …”

“I want to move on.” You confess, and he feels his heart drop. “… from this. I don’t know if I’ll stop loving you but that isn’t my goal. I want to be able to understand my sexuality because I was guilty when it first happened and then … you said the things you did—”

“I’m sorry.” He murmurs, cradling your cheeks in his head when he rests his forehead against your own. You’re so close, and your lips are only inches apart but it doesn’t seem right to close the distance. Not when the two of you were so confused.

“—I know. But it doesn’t matter. You allowed me to realise that I had some growing to do myself.” You smile, rubbing your thumb over his cheek.

And Jungkook feels so much … younger. Like you were taking care of him when he found out his first rejection from a state team application when he was moping by himself. You drove all the way to see him, to comfort him and hold him close when you didn’t have to. Your touch has always been the same, but it’s Jungkook who was selfish.

You loved him.

It feels … surreal. That the two of you felt the same but because of fear, or whatever that stopped the both of you, he ended up hurting you and pushing you away. Jungkook feels his heart ache, the frustration that seeps through his bone is too much to handle.

“I—where does this leave us?” He wants to be with you. He does. But somehow, the timing doesn’t seem right.

His thoughts are only confirmed when you tell him, “I can’t be with you. It’s unfair to you and to me. I have things I need to sort out first and so do you. But I want you in my life, and that’s selfish for me to ask when I feel the way I do, but you were my best friend before anything else. I loved the boy who was my friend before I loved the man who I hoped to be my partner one day. “

"I want to be with you.” Jungkook declares, eyes firm.

You laugh, eyes still sullen, “You don’t know that Jungkook … you hurt me. You really did. Your words … I don’t resent you for it but I can’t forget it, not just yet. You did allow me to realise that maybe I should put myself out there more. Make new friends. You could be thinking that you do for … closure or whatever, but I don’t deserve that.” You inform him seriously.

“You’re not boring—or whatever the fuck I said. I was insecure and I took it out on you. You’re … you’re you and that’s more than enough.” He says softly.

“I may not be.” You shrug with a small smile, "But there’s still a semblance of truth to it that I can see, menace and vehemence aside. Objectively speaking, I’m quiet. I’m shy. You didn’t say that but you definitely implied it.”

Jungkook sighs, and you say it with no malice. Just stating an observation, and he’s still baffled at how … calm you were, especially when you were in his arms and he was in yours. It feels … better, but not enough.

“I want to be alone but together, just as friends. Until the both of us sort out … whatever that’s happening. I want to move on from this, to go back to how we were.”

Jungkook stays silent, as you smile up at him. He thinks you look so pretty. And there’s dread in his stomach when he thinks of how he fucked it all up, how things could’ve been so much easier if he’d just pushed aside his ego and his pride.

But you’re kind as always when you rub at his cheek.

“But thank you, regardless. Even if it hurt me, and even if you regret it—it allowed me to understand what I needed to do. It brought people like Yena and Namjoon into my life, and I’m so grateful for them.” You smile, and for the first time that night; it’s a sincere one. He sees the way your eyes glisten ever so slightly when you speak about them.

The mention of Namjoon’s name only sends a pang through his heart when he recalls the kiss. But he knows it’s unwarranted, especially when you had to deal with Jennie, which was exponentially worse.

“Do you … do you want to be with Namjoon?” Jungkook asks carefully.

You ponder for a moment, and it hurts Jungkook to think that you were considering his words. But he remains silent, because at least right now—he had you in his arms even if you weren’t his to hold.

“I can’t.” The choice of your words doesn’t get dismissed by him. He realises that you never denied it, but said you couldn’t be with him. Jungkook purses his lips, “It’s unfair to him. I shouldn’t have kissed him either but I did. The same way you should’ve either kissed Jennie or kissed me, not the both of us. But if you really do love me the way you say you do. I want this to happen not because I’m familiar but because you actually want this.”

“You’re more than just a familiar girl to me, _____.” He says softly, holding your cheeks.

You shrug with a small smile.

“Am I?” You sigh, holding his wrist while you stare at him. It feels right when you hold him. “I think we need time. I need time, and so do you.”

Jungkook wants to protest, to say that the two of you have waited so long and feel the same. But he knows it’s not that easy. Not when he’s still had bridges to reconcile and build back. He remembers Jimin, he remembers Taehyung, and he even remembers Namjoon.

Love is not all there is, and sometimes it’s not enough; not now at least.

So Jungkook keeps the words to himself, just once more until he can see a smile that isn’t rooted in hesitancy in your eyes.

But he allows himself to ask, “Can I … can I kiss you?”

He’s pushing his luck. But you’re blinking down at him, and somehow along the way you’ve made it onto his lap. It’s not sexual, nothing about it is. Jungkook just wants to hold you and feel you close.

You hesitate, and he sees you nibbling on your lips as you think. But after a few moments, you sigh, nodding your head so softly.

Jungkook allows himself to indulge at this moment, selfishly and wholly. He holds your face in his hand like it’s the last time he could ever feel it this way, and before he brings himself closer—his eyes trace over your features as they map them out in his mind to revisit a place he would call home.

And you’re stunning. Like you’ve always been. The dark circles under your eyes, the few moles on your face, the slope of your nose, the bumps on your cheek, the slightly chapped skin of your lips. He takes it all in because it’s you.

Then, as your breath hitches while his lips flirt with yours; he returns home.

Your lips are as soft and welcoming as he remembers, and he immediately melts into your hold. Your hands are pressed on his chest, and there’s no rush this time. It’s different. A kiss that leads nowhere but here.

Jungkook kisses you so gently that you feel yourself want, but you needed to think. You still needed time.

When the two of you disconnect, he’s surprised to find himself being the first person pulling away.

You smile.

“Will we be okay?” He murmurs, breath fanning over your lips and it’s a familiar question.

This time, you allow yourself to hope.

“Yeah,” You exhale, “I think we will be.”

[ddarker-dreams]

Epiphany. Yan Albedo x Reader

Warnings: General yandere themes, implied unhappy previous relationship, and spoilers for Albedo’s story. Word count: 2k.

It wasn’t fair. 

A snowstorm, unlike anything you’ve ever seen rages outside, shards of lustrous ice falling from the sky with the intent to kill. The Dragonspine’s traditionally somber ambiance contorts into something far more sinister. Numerous hues of grays and dark blues blur together, obscuring your view of the mountainous region. It’s difficult to see anything outside Albedo’s workshop save for the storm. 

“Your shaking won’t stop unless you sit by the fire.” 

His matter-of-fact declaration startles you. Albedo hadn’t spoken in some time, his attention devoted to a specimen he had discovered prior to the storm. You would’ve shared in his enthusiasm if not for the overall situation and company. Sighing reluctantly, you stand from your spot, hugging yourself to stave off the biting cold. It’s impossible to settle on which is worse: staring at the blizzard or staring at him. 

Albedo’s fair skin glows from the light of the crackling fire, sandy blonde hair tousled around his face without care. As he studies the new specimen, his lips purse, eyes focusing on nothing but the work before him, like nothing else mattered. This is how you’ve always known him to be. Even if the world was falling apart around him, Albedo would never falter from what catches his interest until he felt sated. 

Sensing how you’re fixating on him, his attention flickers briefly to you, an unidentifiable emotion gleaming in his eyes. You’re the one to avert your gaze first. Sucrose is going to owe you majorly for this one, why did you even accept her request in the first place? Thinking about it now and cursing your past self does nothing yet you still occupy the time by doing just that. She had come to you panicked, pleading that you take this letter to Albedo in the Dragonspine, claiming it’s urgent. In the heat of the moment, your judgment lapsed and you caved. She spoke of needing to continue her research in Mondstadt or else she would’ve done it herself.

Look where your goodwill has gotten you now, you think. She owes me a week’s worth of dinner. 

You lament giving credence to his advice, but your stubbornness concedes, the cold too miserable to withstand any longer. The fire is right by his side to add insult to injury. Did he do that on purpose to spite you? It’s unlikely, yet your mind wanders to the worst-case scenario. If any other citizen of Mondstadt were privy to your suspicious thoughts, they’d think you unreasonable, as Albedo has established his reputation well. He’s a known eccentric, sure, but a genius one. A few quirks on his behalf that anyone else could overlook. 

Quirks that you used to overlook yourself.

“Would you please grab my bag,” he doesn’t look away from his prized sample but motions to the general area it’s in. “I need to write down my observations.” 

You follow through with what he asks. There was a time you’d have been over the moon to participate in his process, you used to practically trip over yourself to do anything he needed. That enthusiasm has long died off and been replaced by apathy. It’s when he reaches out to take the bag from you that you snap from your trance-like reverie. Whatever remnants of obedience that lingered in your subconscious are brushed away, as you decide to finally challenge him.

Inhaling sharply, you hold the bag just out of his reach, finally earning his recognition for more than a millisecond. 

“I’m not your assistant anymore.” Among other things, you think. 

The words come out more childish than you intended. What you had meant to communicate was your new, critical view on him — he’s a person just the same as anyone else — who held no authority over you. You hold your breath awaiting his response. Albedo doesn’t have an intimidating presence, not in the traditional sense. It’s his mind that you’re wary of. There’s no guessing what sentiments run through his head, yet that’s never stopped you from trying to unravel the mystery that is his thought process.

He gives you a long, hard stare. “I’m aware of that.” 

Where were you going with this again? Albedo doesn’t need to point out your needlessly spiteful behavior with words, his mildly irate facial expression says it just fine. His thin eyebrows threaten to furrow together and the corners of his lips curl down into a frown. You’re unsure of what bothers him more. What you pointed out, or that his work is being interrupted for even the slightest moment. 

The budding confidence you had is all but crushed beneath the weight of his unblinking gaze. Clearing your throat, you decide to take a new approach, straightening your posture in an attempt to be taken more seriously.

“Then tell me, why do you still act like I am?” Your question comes from a genuine place of confusion. Ever since your arrival, you’ve begrudgingly done the odds and ends he’s asked of you, almost like clockwork. You had fallen back into the rhythm that was your life up until a month ago. There was just something about the silent authority he carries that makes it impossible to say no. 

That is, until now. You’re determined to clear up the problems that have plagued your mind. Albedo’s had his time to be nonchalant like nothing happened between you two, but you’re not having it anymore. 

“Force of habit,” he nods his head towards your hand that holds his possessions captive. “Now, would you please…?” 

Your grip tightens and you shake your head defiantly. “No. Or at least, not until you give me a better explanation. Not just about that. How you act in general… none of it makes sense to me.” 

It wouldn’t take much effort from his half to wrangle his bag from you, you’ve seen him in action before after all, so it comes as a surprise when he instead gives in. You blink, gaping when he takes a seat by the roaring fire, and motions for you to do the same. An opportunity like this is hard to come by. The past few weeks, it’s been your code of conduct to avoid any interaction with Albedo, but your frustration can no longer be repressed. 

You take a seat by his side but intentionally leave some distance. 

There’s so much you want to say. Insults, questions, demands, anything. Anything that could give just a hint of closure that he refused to offer himself. It doesn’t help that this familiar area brings memories with it — good and bad alike — painful nostalgia eating away at your heart from the inside out. While you battle with your inner thoughts, he observes you in silence. For a time you hear nothing but the crackling of the fire and wind howling outside.

Finding the courage to speak up, your throat tightens as you force a question out. “Did I… mean so little to you?” 

It’s rare that Albedo ever looks taken aback, but your inquiry managed to do just that. His eyes widen ever so slightly, confusion etching onto his face before he manages to compose himself. Lots of intimate discussions had gone this way. You’d spend hours prepping yourself, meticulously going over what it was you wanted to say, only for the words to die on your tongue when you saw him. 

“I don’t understand what you mean.” He appears genuinely perplexed and you can’t help but feel silly. It may have served you better to think long about this, you realize, but now it’s too late. You rush to explain yourself in hopes of making better sense. 

“When I said I wanted to, er, part ways,” you can’t help but cringe at not knowing the proper label for ending whatever was going on between you two, “You just seemed, I don’t know, indifferent…?” 

In your head, this went down in such a different way. 

Your cheeks are set ablaze by the humiliation his silence brings. It’s not the first time you’ve felt this exact way when bringing up your feelings to Albedo, yet it’s just as awful. Archons, does he always have to look at you like you have three heads? 

When he finally gives you an answer, you wish you had never asked. 

“I knew you would come back to me eventually.” 

Now it’s your turn to give him an incredulous look. He says it without an ounce of hesitation, never once breaking eye contact, his resolve holding firm. Sensing a need to clarify, he attempts to do just that. 

“I considered a variety of variables,” he raises his hand and brushes his knuckles over your face, the unexpected tenderness making you shiver. “I know how your mind works very well. When you told me that’s what you wanted, your physical mannerisms didn’t line up with what you were saying.”

Your heart drops but he doesn’t stop there. 

“Biological responses never lie. It wasn’t anxiety that kept you from looking me in the eye then, it was reasonable doubt. You know it as well as I do. There’s something about me that you can’t place, and the natural human response to the unknown is caution.”

He stops caressing your cheek. “So, tell me [First], and maybe then you’ll reach the conclusion you’ve been searching for. Why are you afraid of me?”

Everything feels wrong. How he’s whispering such horrifying ideas into your mind, leading the conversation with expertise. Is it charisma? You don’t think that’s the proper word. No, it’s how damn certain he is, how he never once leaves room for argument. 

Albedo appraises your silence coldly. 

“See? You’re not sure yourself. Thus why I knew you’d return to me,” he retracts his hand and leans back, but the ghost of his touch leaves your face tingling. “When you don’t understand something, you study it. That’s who you are. It’s why I picked you to be my assistant, that quality of exhausting curiosity, much like the one I have myself.”

He’s hypnotizing you with his words, his even tone, his silent authority. You’re drawn in like a moth to a flame and trapped in a verbal standoff. Whether it was a result of your Vision flickering subconsciously resulting in the fire diminishing or some other cause, you realize what little warmth in the cave is disappearing, your breath materializing in front of you as a result. 

But it’s only yours. 

That’s when it clicks deep inside the recesses of your mind. Apart of what always bothered you about Albedo was this sense of uncanniness. Whenever you thought you were understanding him better, new mysteries would arise, leaving you worse off than when you started. This combined with his workload and the emotional distance you felt between the two of you is what led to your separation. 

Albedo’s face is but a few inches away from yours. He’s patiently awaiting a response or anything you could muster to challenge him with, though both of you are aware that no such thing exists. 

You manage to surprise him again by asking another question. “Why… why are you not breathing?”

And how could you never have noticed until now?

His long eyelashes flutter shut. “Relationships truly are troublesome. There are unspoken rules and expectations, both of which take effort to satisfy. I hadn’t mind trying to do so to keep you happy, but that approach didn’t work as intended.” 

Had it not been for the hammering of your heart and how lighthearted you feel, you’d challenge him on his definition of trying. Instead, you watch without so much as moving an inch, too in awe to utter a single word. 

“You always asked me to be more romantic, but I guess the phrase you take my breath away won’t suffice here,” he sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “I’ll tell you, but once you know… well, I don’t think I can ever let you leave my side.”

“I hope you won’t mind keeping me company a bit longer than you intended to.” 

[littleoddwriter]

Hello dear! Can i request a Roman Sionis X Male!Reader where the reader is a metahuman with the ability of manipulating blood (aka a vampire) and tries to hide it from his lover until Roman finds out when Reader saves him from a mobster? Fluff please + Roman as proud as hell of his lover? Thanks in advance!

Life's Good | Roman Sionis x VampireMale!Reader

I am so sorry it took me so long to finally write this! I'm slowly catching up with the last few requests I've received before my break. I hope you're still interested in this and like what I've done with it (I admit, it got a little away from me because I was super invested in the scenario I came up with, so it is probably less fluffy than you may have wanted, sorry)!

summary; see above.

notes; CW // Blood-Drinking (mild Dub-Con for that at first); Gun Violence; Being Threatened; Murder (not graphic). Vampires; Kind of angsty?; Fluff; Aftercare (non-sexual, but you know, after feeding from someone).

Unlike most people would think you’ve actually been born this way. Your parents were vampires, conceiving you naturally, which of course meant you’d been born a metahuman. You’ve lived quite a normal life, despite the fact that instead of eating, drinking and sleeping like other humans would, you only slept rarely, only ate people food when you had to fit in, and otherwise you fed from humans, drinking their blood. You’d never killed anyone with it, though. Enough people who wanted you to feed from them existed, establishments were you could find them were all around the world. It was a pretty good life.

Still, you usually opted to keep it secret, unsure as to how people might react. While the general opinion of vampires has changed in all these centuries, standing in front of one was still a wholly different thing for most. You understood and respected that.

So when you met Roman – his scent so enticing, you had trouble keeping your fangs in – you stood in front of the question once again. Should you tell him?

Eventually, you decided to go with the flow and see where it’d take you. You didn’t immediately want to ruin your chances with him before you’ve actually gotten to know him at all.

At first it was a casual relationship anyway, no need to tell him your big secret then. But as time went on, your relationship became more serious. You stayed over at his loft more frequently, forced to eat his food and drink his beverages, so as not to let him suspect anything. It didn’t hurt you or anything, it was just unnecessary and you’d never get really used to, well, actual food and such. All the different textures and tastes and what you could do with what to change it. It was fascinating, but not exactly your favourite thing.

Of course, one fateful day it had all come to a head.

You had just admitted to yourself that you loved Roman a couple of weeks ago, not daring to say anything to him, as you didn’t fancy ruining what you two had with those three simple, yet powerful words.

Now though, you regretted that decision more than ever, terrified that maybe you would never be able to tell him how you felt.

It all happened so fast, too. One moment, you and Roman were out on the streets, way into the evening, having just had dinner at an expensive restaurant he’d invited you to; and you were laughing, talking about something – you couldn’t remember what – when you turned into an alleyway. In the next moment, a rival mob boss shot at the two of you. Warning shots, missing you both on purpose.

“What the fuck?!” Roman exclaimed, livid, but you could smell the underlying anxiety change his usual scent from when he was enraged. You hated it.

The gang leader – whatwashisface, you could never keep up – stood now in front of you two, having Roman at gunpoint. His men had surrounded you two, pointing their guns at both of you.

“What do you want?” Sionis spat at the other mob boss, glaring at him with a piercing, wild look in his eyes.

You stayed silent, your hands raised out of instinct. The bullets wouldn’t be able to kill you, unless they were specifically made for it, but that was so unlikely, you weren’t overly worried. You were concerned about Roman, though, anxious that this might have been it.

“Set an example, that’s what. You can’t scare us into submission. You can’t control us. You really think getting a hold of the East End would give you enough power to do that? Fuck you, I say!” the leader yelled.

“Well, fucking go on then if you’re really so tough! Or are you only bark and no bite? Cowardly ambushing me in private like that, I’m inclined to believe you are nothing but a talker. You can’t scare me either, you fuck.” You really wished Roman would shut up for once, lest he’d really get himself killed this time.

Your mind was racing with all possible outcomes this situation could bring. Only one was sure to get Roman out alive; and boy were you glad you’ve fed from someone yesterday.

Even though you had never killed anyone and didn’t desire to do so, you were ready to do anything for Roman, no matter what. You didn’t care that he’d know then, know that you were a freak of nature, as some hateful people liked to call people like you. You didn’t care that you’d take lives. They weren’t innocent, dared to threaten your love and you just couldn’t see past that.

Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes and concentrated, focusing your abilities into play and onto every single man of this rival gang. It was rare for you to use any of your powers that didn’t exist and activate naturally, like your strength. Your parents had taught you to only use them for self defence and this situation was practically screaming for it.

Snapping your eyes back open, now glowing red, all of the men around you gasped and crumbled, letting their weapons clatter to the ground, grasping at their throats, or chest, trying so hard to save themselves. Moments later, they were all just lifeless bodies, lying around Roman and you, as if you were some victorious kings. And in a way, you were exactly that, weren’t you? Roman was soon to be the King of Gotham after all.

All too suddenly, all the strength left your body, your legs giving out. Roman, despite his apparent shock, caught you, steadied you. Gently, he lowered you to the ground, keeping his arms tightly wound around you.

It had taken a lot more out of you than you had anticipated. You desperately needed to feed.

“Y/N? Baby, hey, look at me,” Roman spoke softly, something only reserved for you, you had come to realise.

With half-lidded eyes, you looked up at him, a strained sound passing your lips. “You okay?” you asked, still unsure if everything had truly worked out the way you thought it would.

He scoffed, “Yes, quit worrying about me. Are you okay? What the fuck was that anyway?”

“Just gotta eat,” you murmured, slurring your words heavily, “Sorry about the- that. I’ll explain later.”

“What do you mean you have to eat? Baby, I can’t follow you. I hope you realise that I’m missing some of the fucking context here,” he chuckled, which bordered on sounding hysterical.

“Blood. Vampire. Now, Roman, or else- fuck. Won’t make it.” Your eyes fluttered closed for a moment, your voice just barely above a whisper anymore. Fuck, you hoped he understood. Even more so, you hoped he was okay with it and that maybe he liked you enough to save your life. You didn’t exactly fancy feeding from him, when he was basically pressured into it. But he had a choice, you told yourself.

When you were slowly lifted up a bit and felt skin against your lips, you forced all your last strength to open your mouth – your fangs had automatically unsheathed when you unleashed your powers – and bite down.

The first taste of Roman was as intoxicating and overwhelming as you had always fantasised it would be. A shaky moan came out of him when you started sucking in earnest. Pretty quickly, you regained more and more strength, feeling increasingly less dead. You cupped the other side of Roman’s neck with your hand and pulled him further in. Shit, you couldn’t possibly get enough.

After a few, long moments, you felt Roman push against you, as well as pulling at your clothes, calling your name. Reluctantly, and almost as if you were just waking up from a trance, you let up and licked up the excess blood on his neck, simultaneously licking his wounds closed.

Roman was breathing heavily, and you were still feeling out of it, as you two just kneeled in this alley, holding each other, amidst the dead bodies of Sionis’ former rivals. It was bizarre.

“I think we should go home,” Roman said eventually, his voice sounded so soft, as if he was barely present in the real world.

You nodded and got up, helping Roman to do the same. He was swaying a little and this time you were the one who steadied him. Drinking someone’s blood always took a toll on both parties and you knew you had taken more from him than you usually dared to do with anyone. It made you feel guilty. You had to make it up to him later – if he still wanted you then – that was for sure.

When you had arrived at Roman’s loft, you helped him lie down on his chaise longue, legs propped up on one of his many pillows, to help his blood flow to where it was most needed. Then you went over to the kitchen to get him a glass of orange juice and an energy bar.

Roman nodded in thanks when you pressed either item in his hands, standing above him. You felt so uncomfortable, didn’t quite know what to do with your hands, or if you were even supposed to still be here. He’s been so unusually quiet the entire time, albeit it was most likely due to shock and blood loss.

“So, you’re a vampire.” Roman stated, looking at you, and you hated that you couldn’t place his expression into any kind of category. You just nodded in answer. “Right. And why exactly didn’t I know?”

Your mouth opened and closed a couple of times, looking for the right words. “I was afraid of losing you over it,” you settled on telling the truth eventually.

Again, Roman only nodded; his expression was still so indecipherable, but then a certain shine caught in his eyes. You’ve only witnessed it a couple of times thus far.

“You killed for me,” he practically gasped. “Have you killed before? Being a vampire and all, I’d presume you have.”

You shook your head, “No, that was the first time, actually.”

“Fuck,” he muttered. Then, in an instant, his expression morphed into something prideful, a huge grin plastered on his face, his eyes brighter than any stars you’ve seen in the sky above – it was breathtaking. “You killed for me,” he repeated, sitting upright, throwing his legs over the side of the chaise longue, planting his feet on the ground.

“Y-yeah, I did,” you replied, a weak chuckle leaving you. You still couldn’t quite believe that you’ve done it, especially when you spared a thought on how it made you feel – powerful, so far above others, good.

“I can’t fucking believe you. Fuck, you’re a dream come true, my little prince! You’re so special. A vampire! And you killed for me, because-“ He couldn’t finish it, realisation dawning on him, you could see it in his eyes, in the way his smile slowly vanished.

“Because I love you, yes. I couldn’t lose you over some stupid mob boss who thought he could ambush you like that.”

Roman licked his lips and nodded, placed the empty glass and half eaten energy bar on the table in front of him, and got up.

“I’m proud of you,” he then said, taking you by surprise.

“What? Why?”

“For not letting your fears get in your way. You were afraid of losing me for being a vampire, but you were probably even more terrified of losing me to my mortality. And you pushed through it. Almost fucking killed yourself, only to save me. I’m proud of you for doing that. I’m grateful, too, naturally.”

“Oh, yeah, that makes sense. Thanks, Roman,” you snickered.

Instead of continuing the conversation, Roman pressed his lips against yours in a passionate kiss, wrapping his arms around your waist. Putting your arms around his shoulders, you kissed him back, hoping to show him just how grateful you were with that single kiss.

Then you remembered your guilt from before and broke it. Roman glared at you for a moment. “What?”

“You never gave your consent, I- I fed from you and you never-“

“I did. By offering myself to you. I had a choice, you know? So quit it. You’re not guilty of anything, my boy. And just so you know, I’ll fucking kill you if you ever feed from anyone else again, ‘kay?” He was smirking, but his eyes had an edge to them, which let you know that he was serious about his threat.

Giving a short laugh, you nodded and kissed him again. Life really was good.

[eponymous-rose]

Talks Machina Highlights - Critical Role C2E127 (March 2, 2021)

Tonight’s guests are, of course, Ashley Johnson and Marisha Ray!

Marisha, on her thought process behind the date: “It was a fascinating study on designing something with another player in trying to navigating how to do that in a way that makes sense and wouldn’t be too metagamey or overly scripted or anything like that. I had a bunch of ideas thought out, then I just typed it out and sent it over to him, and then he interpreted it as such.” Liam had ideas, but Marisha wanted him to keep the details a surprise. The theme of “let’s start over” was the leading motif for the design. Three acts: pre-game cocktails at the Nestled Nook, picnic in a field of Xhorhasian wildflowers, and then close it with after-dinner drinks and hot tub at the Steam’s Respite. And the very last thing was “and all the cats were dogs”. Brian: “What was his response to that?” Marisha: “He texted me and was like, ‘Are you serious or is this dog thing a joke?’”

Ashley is asked what it was like to know it was coming but not know the specifics. “For both of us, I don’t think we thought it was going to be right then. I think because it’s been so long in the relationship between Beau and Yasha and it felt like such a natural progression for the two of them, and they’re both awkward together. I think there was something to just being thrown into it.” She spent time thinking about what things Yasha would talk to Beau about on a date. “We got to maybe one of them. It was just so fun! Exploring romance in D&D can be super weird, especially when you’re streaming. But it felt like that’s where our characters were going. There was that excitement of trying something that is out of my comfort zone, and I think so much of Marisha was part of that, as being the initiator as Beau, where I was like, okay, this is where it’s going it. Let’s do it, let’s see what happens!” She mentions how “fun and freeing” it is to trust your improv partner in something like this.

Marisha: “I just wanted Beau to be a fuckboi!” But she highlights that it’s hard to deny the deeper connections that come up in D&D scenarios. “They’ve been with each other through so much that it’s difficult to deny when those bonds start to happen.” She texted Liam in a panic before the game. “What do I wear? And he said, ‘In the game or in real life?’ Both!”

Marisha was expecting a Sam curveball at some point. “My/Beau’s reaction of ‘I love you!’ was pretty accurate. She does care! She’s not just  a troll trying to ruin our shit.”

Marisha on Yasha liking dogs: “I clocked that shit when you bought a dog figurine.” She keeps notes about all the members of the party when they reveal things like that.

Ashley has started taking more detailed notes, partly to play catch-up for events she may have missed earlier. “Turns out, notes are very helpful and can help you in your RPing!”

Favorite parts? Marisha: “The fade-to-black moment at the very end, and I think it’s because Ashley’s eyes--maybe this is going to get weird--we had this moment where we were in the hot tub at the end, and I looked over and was like, ‘hey’, and you looked over and were like, ‘hey’, and I was just dead. I will never forget the look on Ashley’s face. There was just a pure moment.” Ashley: “That’s so funny, because I was going to talk about this one moment with Marisha. It’s just clicking into the scene and clicking into the moment.” Marisha talks about how the moments associated with the game have real, tangible emotional connections. Brian highlights that the emotional side of things is what you remember the most after the campaign is done.

Character thoughts on Kima? Marisha: “I was like, step on me! Please! Both of you! We’d be friends.” Ashley: “It’s also that nostalgia that feels so good at the table. These characters we know and love are still living and breathing and happy together and just kicking ass. For Yasha it was an amazing example of a relationship that works in this world, and something beautiful that these people who are different but are connecting. It was a lot of-- it was cool. I think Yasha’s a very big fan of Kima and Allura. When she gave over the sword, Travis texted me and was like, it’s the Holy Avenger. Looking it up and talking about it, it was like, holy mackerel, this sword is insane. But there’s going to have to be some conversations had to attune with the sword. But I like that Matt presented that challenge, that this isn’t necessarily in your class, but let’s do some RP and see what happens.”

Where’s Yasha at with the Stormlord right now? “I’m curious to explore that more, but knowing that the Stormlord was the first person to bring her back to her own will, of pulling her out of whatever was happening with Oban and the Laughing Hand for however long. It’s also weird to see the relationship that the clerics have, and I think Yasha’s still figuring out how to be her own person, but also... not serving somebody, but still trying to figure out that relationship with her god. But again, he saved her from a very, very dark place, and I think that’s something she values and holds on to.”

Cosplay of the Week: An amazing Essek! (Blushingvioletcosplay on Instagram)

How is Beau handling the Eyes? “All the theories! It’s hard for it to not feel like a ticking time bomb. I always have to try and separate my theories from Beau’s theories. That’s acting and shit. I, Marisha, am very interested if I can somehow utilize this to our advantage. Beau, also interested but simultaneously terrified that it might be a bad idea and I might just get further initiated. When it comes to Matt, you know there’s always something more lurking underneath all of this. As players it’s kind of our job to navigate that.”

How about Yasha? “I think it’s one of the things that didn’t really come up in the date, which is funny, because it’s something I was thinking about. Me as a player, that’s something I’m extremely stressed about. We don’t know what’s going to happen. We kind of got into it, but I think the fact that Lucien was listening, and the Eyes, I think it made me as a player as Yasha very nervous about interacting with Beau, because I don’t know what they’re picking up on. There’s so much we don’t know, and Lucien is so confusing, and the Eyes, and with Matt... we don’t know! It’s a point of extreme concern for Yasha, especially someone that she has feelings for and cares about, it’s an extra level of I don’t know what this means and I can’t lose this person, but I need to protect at all costs.”

What was it like for Beau to discover that Dairon and the Soul not only listened but took action? “That moment was so deeply powerful. Honestly, I was just as taken aback as Beau was. I never in both mine or Beau’s thought process did I think Matt would take action in that way, or that would ever be handled. And I think that’s what makes it so emotional. You condition yourself to think these things just happen, so much so that they permeate your D&D game. So rarely do abusers get held accountable for their actions. What was powerful about it was that he was, and other people cared. That alone was so emotionally impactful, and I was completely thrown by it. I feel like I had to walk away from that situation kind of unpacking those things. What does that say, what does that mean? Same thing for Beau, where the cycle of abuse has happened repeatedly to her with no repercussions to anyone who’s causing it. It’s why she’s always had a weird tenuous relationship with the Soul. It throws you into these layers of reconciliation and thought. I didn’t think this was going to be addressed. What does that say about society? So many different layers to peel back. It all speaks to so many real-life experiences that happen every damn day to so many people. There’s not many examples in media of abusers getting handled, and especially not in a way that’s not some sort of device to motivate somebody.” She highlights how rare it is that the abuser was handled without pulling the victim into the mess. I’m definitely not doing what she’s saying justice with my speed-typing.

How is Yasha feeling about solidifying her identity as a protector? “Putting together this character and starting to play as her, there was a part of me that wanted-- when I work on characters, you go through the list of questions you have as an actor, what’s your motivation and all that stuff. But I very much wanted to see if I could have a character that doesn’t necessarily know what their purpose is, because I feel like a lot of people feel that way. I think when we see movies or TV shows, there’s always a character who says, I know what my purpose is. I wanted to explore what it meant to not know what that is. I left that open with Yasha, and I didn’t want to set that for her, because I thought that was an interesting thing. I still like that idea, but in the conversation with Beau and knowing the date was coming up, there were a lot of internal conversations I was having of how is Yasha feeling in this moment. At the end of the day, I feel that’s a very solid purpose for Yasha in this moment, of all I can really provide is protection - and of course she can provide more than that. But now I’m just, yeah, I think protection for her is the best way she knows how to describe her purpose.” Brian: “And once we arrive there, the goal is to find a greater purpose, to be of service.” Ashley has tied in Yasha’s protectiveness with her grappling with loss.

Fan art of the week: A second amazing Essek! (by Saturday_sky)

Thoughts on the amulets: set-up or bad luck? Ashley: “I thought they were a set-up!” Marisha: “I think [Astrid’s] an opportunist. But I think it’d be much more convenient if anyone other than her killed Trent. To what end, I don’t know.” Ashley: “Me, personally, how I interpreted her crying in that alleyway, I felt like she was crying because of a betrayal. But I don’t know! I think she definitely cares for Caleb.” Marisha: “I also got betrayal tears. That felt like guilt-crying to me.” Brian: “I don’t like any of this.”

What prompted Beau going full assassin? “If they were to get in and out and I could have jumped over that tower without killing that guy, I would have.” She didn’t have a lot of options as a monk and not a rogue assassin, but needed a quick and quiet way to get him out of the way. “I went through so many ideas in my head. I thought of an idea to dump all of the ball bearings under him, then light fireworks” to try to get him to fall off the edge.

Is Yasha’s hope for Molly still alive? “Yes. I think that because Yasha has been on the other end of doing terrible things under someone else’s influence, she has a lot of forgiveness for people. At this point, of course, it’s hope that he’ll come back or have some type of recognition of his life as Molly. There’s a lot of questions. I don’t think she’ll ever give up on him.” The only moment of hesitation was when Lucien was cool with Gelidon leaving with Beau.

How are they feeling about their odds? Ashley: “I feel really great about the ideas that the group has to get out of tricky situations. This one I’m nervous about.” Marisha: “I agree. We have our little side player thread, minus Matt, and I don’t see how we’re getting out of this without some sort of compromise that’s not necessarily in our favor. I think we’re going to get out of it, but I don’t think we’re going to get out of it completely.”

Ashley didn’t tell Brian about the date after the episode ended, but wound up blurting it out right before he was about to watch the episode for Talks.

[thanxxskz]

I know it's long sorry and thanks in advance for even taking the request 😁

Can you please do a scenario where the boys are wolves and you are chans mate but he likes another girl and starts dating her but they keep you around because he still needs you since you are his mate and he is an alpha so that makes the reader upset because she has to see him with her all the time then she becomes good friends with changbin since he is always there to comfort her and Chan starts getting jealous and it causes issues between him and changbin but at the end chan realizes he likes the reader and they end up together

issues in the wolf gang - b.c

i hope it’s up to your expectatives *cries* it’s my first time writing something like this! i really hope everyone likes it asdnaksjdn

words: 2,250 (this is the longest thing i’ve ever written i think

warnings: eh, angst? but fluff the last paragraphs.

being the alpha’s mate has been something that your parents desired for you to be since you had memory. your parents, especially your father, always told you that being at the top had to be your priority and for them, mating with the alpha was it. this had never been important for you- you never really had a good relationship with your parents, so whatever they said went in one ear and out the other. you could feel the disappointment from your parents, making them stop talking to you for a long time, and you leaving their home.

after a time, you came back home to your parents. even after purposely stopping talking to you because you didn’t fulfil their initial wishes, they welcomed you with happiness and a hug, proud of having you back. you personally were happy to be back in your old gang after a few months of being alone.

in the meantime that you were gone a new alpha had been chosen. the name was christopher bang, but you have heard that the people close to him called him chan, for whatever reason. he saw you from afar and smiled. he came up close to you and waved his hand.

“hey, i’m christopher, you are?”

“i’m y/n” you said

“are you new around?” you shook your head “no? i don’t think i’ve seen you before”

“i left a few months ago, i just came back”

---

this conversation happened two years ago now, and you were now, to your parents’ surprise, chan’s mate. the relationship with him had grown only stronger since your first meeting. you felt a strong connection the moment he smiled at you, and had been close since then.

along the way, you had developed feelings for him, and by the way he acted around you, you and many people in the gang believed that you were meant for each other. you really believed it, to the point that you were going to confess to him.

the day you were about to do it, chan confessed to you that he had been liking a girl for a while, but he didn’t know how to approach her. by what he told you, they had been alone plenty of times and he seemed to believed that the feelings were mutual, so he decided to give it a go.

the problem is that he being an alpha and you his mate, you would have to see them together most of the time, since you couldn’t be separated.

you weren’t a horrible person so you encouraged him to ask her on a date. you couldn’t let your feelings meddle in his future relationship when it was clear that he had his eyes set on one person and clearly that person wasn’t you. due to this, he asked you how could he ask her out, and you gave him advice on what most girls around would like to be asked out. he ended up having dinner with her, a dinner himself cooked.

they began dating officially after four or five dates and, honestly, it wasn’t something that bothered you at first. she hated you for being his alpha, but that wasn’t something that you had control over and since she and chan started dating, you could hear more harsh words directed your way. chan didn’t really care about it, something that upset the shit out of you, because okay, he didn’t love you and didn’t want to date you at all, but you were still his mate and he could at least defend you. one tiny bit at least.

changbin, one of the wolves in the gang caught you crying alone one night. he could hear you sobbing and trying to regain your breathing slowly. he didn’t know how to approach you. he was the closest wolf to you in the gang, someone you told all your secrets too and who knew you better than anyone, better than yourself. this friendship started because he saw how crystal started treating you and how chan was letting her do it, leaving everyone surprised at said action.

he came and hugged you and you immediately hugged him back, crying in his chest.

“i have a lot on my shoulders, bin. i don’t think i can do it anymore. he doesn’t care about me at all, i can see it. i know he must hate being my mate when he likes crystal, but that doesn’t me he can let her bully me all the time. i can’t even answer back because i know he’ll not be on my side even if he knows that he has to be because what she’s doing it’s just wrong”

changbin didn’t know what to say “sh, don’t say that. you’re really strong, i know that, i know you enough to know that you’re the strongest wolf in our gang, and if you could survive last time in that awful situation, you can overcome this, yeah?”

you nodded, trying to believe his words, even if it was impossible at the moment.

---

changbin and you were only growing closer together, something that for some reason that chan didn’t quite understand, bothered chan so much, to the point that when he was with crystal it was the only thing that he could think about, zoning out every single time, making crystal annoyed.

“what are you thinking about, love?” crystal asked him.

“nothing, crys” it was the answer he always gave her.

fast forward a couple of months, you and changbin were the best of friends. he was there to cheer you up every time you were upset because of crystal and chan, but you didn’t know what was happening behind your back.

chan and changbin had a late night meeting, due chan’s request. changbin came to his house, knowing what the conversation was going to be about, so he was relaxed, but he also new that a fight was going to happen most probably.

“can you tell me what the fuck are you doing with y/n the whole time?” chan asked.

“she’s my best friend, i’m her best friend, we’re spending time together” he simply said.

“you’re practically glued to the hip lately” chan said mad.

“and? what about it? are you jealous or something that she spends time with me” changbin bluntly asked. truth is that changbin was fucking tired of the situation. not because of you, but because of chan “for what i know, you were fucking glued to the hip too, but you dropped her the moment crystal came into your life”

chan gulped “jealous? me? of what?” he said “do i need to remind you that i’m in a relationship?”

“didn’t crystal break up with you just this morning because she was tired of you not paying attention to her lately? apparently since y/n and i became close friends, you have been neglecting her so much, too. and crystal ain’t stupid and is seeing what you don’t want to see”

“oh and can i know what does she see that i supposedly don’t want to see?”

“that you’re in love with y/n”

with that said, changbin left his room and went to his, thinking if he had done the right thing.

chan just stayed still in the room, the only hear that could be heard being his breathing. was he catching feelings for you? he maybe knew the answer a long time ago, but he didn’t want to admit since he was dating crystal. for him, you had always been hard to read, so if you ever had had feelings for him, he didn’t knew that.

---

since that day, his and changbin’s friendship was hanging by a thread. you questioned changbin about the downfall of his and chan’s friendship, but the only thing that you got from him was that it wasn’t important and not to give it much thought because sometimes friendships have downfalls and it doesn’t have to have a reason. you nodded, not believing a single word.

chan, on his side, was giving it a lot of thought. one thing that he realised was that changbin was right: he was in love with you. he probably had been since the first time he saw you but blocked his feelings. he had another problem: his friendship with changbin. apart from minho, he was his longest friend, and didn’t want to lose such a precious friendship.

he called him again to come up to his room. to his surprised, changbin appeared there.

“do you need anything?” changbin asked, harshly.

“yes. i- i want to say i’m sorry. i acted like an ass towards you when i shouldn’t have. you being friends with y/n has nothing to do with me and i understand why she and i stopped talking and it was because i was an absolute ass to her too. that’s the only thing that i’ve been lately, i don’t think i even deserve to be your alpha anymore” he said “to answer your question; yes, i’m in love with y/n and seeing her so close to you when it used to be like that with me hurt me. of course, it’s only my fault and the other night you gave me a wake up call. so again, sorry. i’d understand if you don’t want to talk to me anymore, but i appreciate our friendship more than anything and i don’t want to give up without a fight.”

changbin was in silent, and chan thought that this meant that it was over, so he sighed in defeat.

“i forgive you. but there’s another person that you should ask forgiveness too, and that’s y/n. when i said you were an ass to her i meant it. since you and crystal started dating, you let crystal said the worst things to her, acting as if nothing was happening when it all was happening right in front of your eyes.”

chan nodded, and said that he would talk to you the next night. he had lots of thoughts to gather, to be able to have a real conversation with you involving what it was happening and how he would make it up to you. he was debating whether to confess to you or not, knowing that you would reject him and knowing that he should be happy if you even decided to stay in the gang.

---

chan had sent you a message, asking you to go up to his room to talk. at first you didn’t want to, but something in your heart was just telling you to go.

“hey, i’m here. did you want something?”

chan looked up, surprised “yes, yes i did. please, take a sit”

you did as he said, and waited for him to start talking. truth is you were as nervous as him, and you didn’t know if it was for the same reasons. you were still mates, and you also knew he wasn’t dating crystal anymore (though the reasons were unknown to you). you felt awful, but knowing he wasn’t dating her anymore give you a bit of happiness but that didn’t mean that you were going back to what you both once were.

“so… i- i don’t-“ he gulped and breathed “i’m sorry” he felt as if he was repeating last night “like really sorry. i treated you so bad and let crystal treat you like complete shit. i was blinded and only saw her as the good person. obviously it’s not her fault that i’m a fucking asshole. you’re my mate and not only that, but one of my closest friends, and i let everything go to waste because i was in love and that was the only thing i cared about”

he stopped to look at you, but you knew more was coming so you just nodded, letting him keep going “i had a big fight with changbin that made me open my eyes and almost lose him at the same time. the reason i broke up with crystal was because i realised what changbin told me was true, she treated you so bad and i just didn’t see it. or didn’t want to see it, i would say. i love that you’re my mate, believe that. i never meant to hurt you, that’s the last thing i had ever wanted to do”

“but you did”

“i know, and i’m so fucking sorry” he wanted to say he liked you, loved you even, but should he? “i like you. i really do. you’re the one who always stood by me during the past two years and even now, that you were in this situation, you always made everyone listen to me when you only probably wanted to cut my head off” he lightly laughed “i’d understand if you don’t want to, but i’d really want to start over and maybe you can give me a chance and go on a date with me?”

“chan… i’m gonna give you one more chance. only one. and not because i am not mad at you anymore, but because changbin went here, fought you, something i didn’t know by the way, and make you open your eyes, but if you do this shit once more, i’m gonna kill you myself”

“you can do that” he said, coming up to you and hugging you, giving you a kiss in the cheek. he knew he was doing things right now, and you knew this was only the beginning of something amazing.

[recklessmark]

I heard ur requests are open 😊 can i get some idol!mark angst wherein he accidentally met with his photographer!ex through a shoot 😊😊😊 pls make me cry 😅😂 thank you for all the wonderful mark ficsss

words count: 1.3k

a/n: i wrote this at 1 in the morning lol i couldn’t sleep and this wasn’t really giving off misery but i hope you like it!

you shove the last piece of your hamburger into your mouth, chewing it aggressively while fasten your steps. you were on your way to have your lunch when the studio suddenly called you for an urgent photoshoot which you have to make an appearance in 20 minutes. your schedule is clear today and thanks to your coworker and his illness, you had mc donald for lunch and couldn’t even enjoy your food thoroughly.

you stop in front of the restroom to throw the piece of trash on your hand into the bin when some voice catches your attention.

no actually it’s a laugh, a very contagious laugh that you’re familiar with.

your eyes widen when you realize who it is, no one other than your most handsome ex ever, mark lee.

if you have a chance to make an index of the most regrettable things you’ve ever done before you die, breaking up with mark will come first.

you wipe your sweating palms on the sides of your jeans when footsteps approach you, along with the sound of him talking echoing into the wall. instantly, you rush into the restroom and close the door, still, remain a tiny gap that you can peek through. people always say that vision is more trustworthy than hearing, you can lie both way, though, it’s a different story. the biggest question you’re currently having on your mind is mark’s presence at the studio. you want to poke your eyes right away when you see his figure passes by through the gap on the door. not every information we adopt from our hearing should be verified by our eyes.

why is he here?!

however you have no time to speculate about the reasons and his purposes as your ringtone blares out of the blue. you hold your breath in and slowly shut the door since mark’s eyes just fly on your direction. hearing footsteps fading away, you sigh and answer your phone.

“what?”

you don’t know who you’re trying to hide from but you’re practically whispering.

“where are you?”

“in the restroom.”

“the shoot starts in five minutes, hurry up.”

“alright.”

you hang up the call and shove your phone back into your pocket. you groan and brush your hair backward. the fact that you’re going to be late doesn’t irritate to as much as how you’re gonna walk around this place without bumping into mark.

being an dramatic overthinker you are, you’re two minutes late on set that you don’t have time to take a look at who you’re working with. you hang the strap of the camera around your neck and idly tap your fingers on the wide desk which is furnished by three computer screens, waiting for the artist.

just as you let out a breath in relief since you didn’t meet mark on your way, the door flings opened, revealing the least person you want to see.

mark lee.

cliché as it sounds but it’s your fate and you can’t pretend to have a seizure and cancel the shoot now, perhaps you can choke yourself.

you notice the astonishment on mark’s face when he sees you either, however he’s quick to cover it. certainly he’s a celebrity, professionalism is prioritized in any scenarios. and that’s what you found yourself struggle with when you were in a relationship with him. he’s too good at hiding his feelings that you couldn’t distinguish whether he’s honest or it’s untruthful. although you knew mark never lied and he was serious with your relationship, you still couldn’t ease the doubt deep inside your mind. it’s your fault that you ruined everything, you broke him completely so whenever you see mark, there’s a pool of guilt bubbling inside your chest.

you glance away and mark scratches the back of his head when the silence is broken by the noises of the staffs as they prepare for the photoshoot.

this is not the first time you worked with mark. nevertheless, his efficiency when it comes to work never fails to impress you. and he never fails to distract you with his dazzling charm either. suave, divine, glorious there’s no such a word that could precisely describe him.

neither of you start a conversation during the shoot, you don’t even know what you’re supposed to discuss about. therefore keeping your mouth shut to avoid any possible stupid utterance is probably the best option.

everything went well, no such incidents happened and you’re extremely satisfied with the results. you take out the memory stick from your camera and connect it with your laptop. while reviewing the images, his face reminds you of the embarrassing memories you wish never happed.

mark had a condensed schedule, he debuted with superm last year and it worsened the situation. with the nature of either your and his career, you didn’t have much time for each other. basically keeping in touch only by messages and calls, occasionally got to see your partner when you had a chance to work with him. no dates, no private time. both of you had to work with a variety of different people, it’s like a competition that who’s more insecure will lose. and your petty insecurities outweighed your faith and trust in mark.

mark was doing everything to keep you, sending you encouraging and reassuring messages, calling you every night and spending time with you even for a second if that’s all he got. but it didn’t stop you and your most-ever stupid decision, breaking up with mark.

you remembered how depressed mark was. he lost weight, his cheekbones became more prominent and he couldn’t focus on anything. you was dazed when you saw mark on a music show with his dark eye bags and tedious face. there was a night he called you, apparently intoxicated. he was just crying, sobbing, telling you how much he loved you and then cried himself to sleep. you were laying on your bed, balling your eyes out and listening to his emotional speech through the speaker of your phone. and when he’s finally asleep, you still didn’t hang up the call, hugging the watermelon squishy he gave you for your birthday and crying your eyes out.

all of a sudden, your phone rings out loud, cutting your memorial flashback. you frown at the strange number, debating whether you should pick up or not. this better not be some creeps messing with you at 10 in the evening. your thumb swipes on the screen and you bring your phone up to your ear.

“hello?”

“y/n...”

“mark?” you ask in confusion, more like confirmation. you don’t reckon it’s someone mimicking his voice.

“yeah.”

your brows furrow tighter, ‘yeah’?, he calls you and says nothing except of your name and yeah...

“what is it mark?”

“nothing. i just miss your voice.”

sir literally saw me two hours ago and chose to keep silent.

“what are you doing?” he asks. you can’t hear anything but nonchalance in his voice.

“uhm...editing your photos.”

your eyes flit on your laptop again, which already go black and you hit your keyboard to activate it again.

“mark...”

“yes?”

“i’m sorry...” you whisper, trying to cover your shaky voice as your eyes watering. you don’t remember when was the last time you got to hear him calling your name.

“for what?” he asks quietly.

“everything.”

there’s a moment of silence before he speaks again, tears run down your cheek. “don’t be, i just hope you’re doing well, can you do it for me?”

you nod furiously and then realize that mark can’t see so you say into the phone instead, “yes i will, you should stay healthy too, don’t stay up late.”

“i know, i’ll see you again alright? goodnight.”

“goodnight.”

you ring off the call and put your phone aside. your hands wipe the tears on your cheeks and your lashes away, staring at the photo displaying in the screen, your vision becomes blurry again.

he’s probably moved on.

you’ve lost him, you’ve lost mark.

[drabbles-mc]

Trust Me

Juice Ortiz x F!Reader

Request by @adela-topaz-caelon: So, I love Juice, and I was wondering if you wouldn't mind doing a Juice x Female reader, in which the reader is Opie's younger sister, and helps the club in her own way. She's bubbly, but very ferocious when needs be, and the scenario I have in mind is they've always been attracted to each other, and good friends. When Potter first tries to coerce Juice, she knows something's up, works the truth out of him and goes on this mission for Juice that results in a fluffy coming together

Warnings: language, light angst, Juice being a soft and slightly sad boy

Word Count: 3.9k

A/N: I’m here for all these requests about helping Juice dig himself out of the hole he put himself in during this series haha. Love that for him. Also, this was the most I’ve ever written for Opie as a character and it was actually very enjoyable haha. Hope y’all like this! xo

SOA Taglist: @mijop @garbinge @masterlistforimagines (As always, let me know if you'd like to be tagged!)

You walked across the lot at T-M, scanning the garages for your brother, waiting to see him towering over everyone. He was nowhere to be found, though. With a quiet sigh, you walked up to the garage and waved to get someone’s, anyone’s attention who could give you an answer as to where he was.

Juice had spotted you the second you stepped down out of your car. He jogged over to you, a smile on his face as he met you on the pavement. His grin was one that was impossible not to return. He was wiping grease from the palms of his hands onto his pants so he could hug you without leaving any stains on you.

“Y/N, hey,” he wrapped you in a brief embrace, “All good?”

You stepped back and nodded, “All good. Just looking for Ope? Said he was gonna need help with a couple things tonight and to meet him here.”

Juice nodded, “Think he’s in the clubhouse.”

“Great! Thank you. I’ll see you in a bit,” you flashed him a smile before turning and walking across the lot to the clubhouse.

Juice was left there, unable to do anything besides watch you walk away. He couldn’t help but to be mesmerized by the way you walked, so lightly but with just enough authority to let people know that you weren’t someone to be messed with. Your smile was just inviting enough to let people know that you were kind, but not so disarming that you were setting yourself up to be taken advantage of. If growing up with Opie had taught you anything, it was how to carry yourself.

“You’re askin’ for trouble, brother,” Jax materialized behind him with a chuckle.

“What?” Juice tried to feign ignorance.

“Opie will stomp you out like the bug you are if you ever try to get too close to her.”

Juice shook his head, “I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure,” he chuckled and clapped him on the back, “Whatever you say.”

Despite the fact that Jax had just called him out, he still couldn’t make himself walk back to the garage until you had disappeared into the clubhouse, the door shutting behind you. Juice let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. With a shake of his head, he walked back to the truck that he had been working on, his brain now running at a mile a minute with so many different thoughts of you.

Juice had fallen a little in love with you the first time he’d seen you. He hadn’t been in Charming all that long, and was just starting to slip into the role of prospect. He was in the clubhouse, stacking cases of beer behind the bar when you came striding in. It felt like the wind had gotten knocked out of his lungs as he looked you over—he was certain that you had made a wrong turn somewhere. There was no way that a girl like you purposely landed yourself in a place like the Samcro clubhouse.

You’d walked up to the bar, given him a smile that made him weak in the knees, and asked if he had seen your brother.

“Wh-who’s your brother?” he stammered out nervously, now jittery not just from the fact that he thought you were beautiful, but also from the fact that you were the sister of one of the men in the MC.

You laughed as you sat down on the stool directly across from him, “Ah, so you’re the new guy,” you looked him up and down before finally answering his question, “Opie.”

His eyes went wide, “Opie?”

You chuckled, “I know—I got the all the looks and he got all the height. Unfortunate division of genes.”

“Thought I heard trouble,” Opie’s voice cut through the clubhouse before the conversation between you and Juice could continue any further.

You laughed as he walked up behind you, resting his hands down on your shoulders and pulling you back into him, you head resting back against the leather of his kutte. Opie had dismissed Juice, granting himself some privacy to be able to talk to his sister without any interruptions. However as Juice left the clubhouse that day, he knew that you were someone he wasn’t going to be forgetting about any time soon.

The two of you had become friends rather quickly after that. You loved all of the guys in the MC—they were your brothers as much as they were Opie’s. But you couldn’t deny that there was something different about Juice. He had a type of light and kindness emanating from him that you just didn’t see in Charming very often, let alone in the club. Your brother had kept a close, scrutinizing eye on you when the two of you first started spending time together, but as time went on he conceded that maybe it was a good friendship for the both of you. You were level-headed enough to keep Juice reined in, and he kept you from taking yourself too seriously. It took some time, but Opie eventually stopped feeling like he had to constantly be looking over your shoulder whenever you were around Juice.

That first day felt like it was lifetimes ago now, though. You made your way back to the dorms once you didn’t see Opie sitting in the main area of the bar. The door to his room was closed, so you gave it a couple knocks and waited for your cue to enter. A few moments later, Opie pulled the door open and offered up a tired smile as he pulled you into a hug and kissed the top of your head.

“You look like shit,” you said with a laugh as you sat down on his bed.

“Good to see you too,” he chuckled and shook his head, trying to smooth out his extremely disheveled hair.

“Everything alright?”

“Need to ask you for a favor.”

You nodded, assuming that that was where this conversation was going to be heading, “Whatever you need.”

“Got some club business to handle. Most of us are gonna be outta town for a few days. Was wondering if you would be willing to stay here and help keep things running smoothly?”

You shrugged, nodding, “Yea, of course. Who’s gonna have the kids?”

“Mom.”

You nodded, a little surprised that your mother was still willing to take the kids when Opie had club business. You weren’t going to get into that discussion with him, though, “Who else is staying behind?”

“It’s just gonna be you, Chucky, and Juice. Gemma’s got family shit going on so we could really use you here at T-M. Mechanics will still be on deck and everything, but I’d feel better knowing we had someone else here who was Samcro.”

You loved that you got to be part of the inner circle of everything happening with the club. You didn’t get to know everything, but you got to know more than most. The fact that Opie trusted you meant the world to you. There was something exciting about the fact that every now and then he talked about you like you were part of the club.

“I got you,” you said with a nod, “But I’m crashing here. I don’t trust what might be on the sheets in anyone else’s dorms.”

He laughed, “Smart,” he ran his hands over his face, “Thank you, Y/N. I appreciate it.”

“You guys heading out tonight?”

“Couple hours,” he sighed, “Sorry for the short notice.”

You shrugged, “No big deal. We always figure it out,” you stood up and gave him a hug, “I’m gonna go pack some shit to bring here with me for the next few days. I’ll try to be back before you guys head out.”

“Alright. Love you.”

“Love you back,” you called to him as you walked out of his dorm.

Later that afternoon, once all of the guys had peeled out of the compound, you realized just how quiet things were at T-M when they weren’t all around causing trouble. It was peaceful but it also felt a little empty. The chaos is what made it feel like home.

You walked into the clubhouse and saw Juice sitting at the bar, typing furiously away at his laptop. You smiled as you sauntered onto the other side of the bar, grabbing one beer for yourself and one for him, popping the caps off on the edge of the bar. You set his next to his laptop and you saw the smile creep across his face even though he didn’t take his eyes off of the screen in front of him.

“Just you and me for the next few days, Juice,” you said with a smirk.

That got his eyes to flick up to you for a moment. He smiled, a nervous laugh slipping out past his lips, “Looks like it.”

“Don’t look so nervous,” you chuckled, “You know I don’t bite.”

It hit Juice that this was the first time that the two of you were going to be left to your own devices for an extended period of time. The idea of it was exciting and terrifying for him all at once. For years he’d admired you and kept it to himself so he wouldn’t catch any of Opie’s wrath. But he had never been able to shake the feeling that maybe, possibly, you felt the same way about him. He was never bold enough to ask, but there was always a feeling in his gut that his feelings weren’t one-sided. There had never been the chance to even try to discuss it, there were always so many other people around, namely your brother and your father. Neither of those men were people that Juice felt like pissing off.

“You crashing here?” he asked.

You nodded as you sipped on your beer, “Yea. Taking Ope’s room. You?”

He nodded, “Always do when the guys leave town. Someone’s gotta stay here and make sure the bad guys don’t get in,” there was a childish grin on his face.

You laughed, “The bad guys just rolled out of town a few minutes ago.”

The two of you existed peacefully with each other as the afternoon bled over into the evening. You were camped out on the picnic table outside the clubhouse, a drink in one hand and a book in the other. You were laying on your back on top of the table, book perched carefully on your chest as you absorbed another page of the story.

You heard Juice’s phone going off, followed quickly by the sound of him answering it. You wanted to eavesdrop, but he was just a little too far away to be able to make out what he was saying. You sat up on the table, swinging your legs so that your feet landed on the bench. You stretched and waited for Juice to step outside.

He came out a couple minutes later, shrugging a hoodie on over his kutte. You saw the confused look on his face and just as you were about to ask him where he was going, he turned and looked at you, “Be back in a bit. Got some shit I gotta handle.”

“Everything okay?”

He nodded, “Yea. Just lock the gate behind me, don’t want you here by yourself unprotected.”

You agreed, fighting the urge to ask all of the questions that were bubbling up in your mind. You watched as he pulled his helmet on and hopped onto his bike. He looked at you and offered up a half-hearted smile before peeling out of the compound. With a heavy sigh, you did as he asked, shutting and locking the gates behind him once he had left.

Your original plan had been to head to bed, but you knew that you weren’t going to be able to fall asleep without knowing that he was back safe and sound in the clubhouse. A million different scenarios were running through your mind as you made your way back to Opie’s dorm. You tried to tune out your own brain as you changed into an old hoodie and a pair of sweatpants. You figured you would just hang out in the clubhouse and wait for Juice to get back—there wasn’t much else to do otherwise especially now that you were locked onto the compound.

Not too long after Juice had left, you got a check-in text from Opie. You didn’t mention that Juice had left you on your own. It was either one of two scenarios: it was club business and Opie knew about it, or it was personal business and Opie didn’t need to know about it. You reassured him that all was quiet.

Juice had been gone for a couple hours and you were starting to get worried. You wanted to reach out, send a text or give him a call, but you refrained. If he needed your help he knew how to reach you. You were sprawled on the couch in the clubhouse, eyes resting shut but still incredibly awake.

You heard the clubhouse door open. You slowly sat up and looked over at Juice, who was clearly trying to step quietly because he thought that you had been asleep. Embarrassment flashed across his features for a moment when he saw you looking at him attempting to tip-toe on the creaky hardwood floors. He looked so much more exhausted than when he had left.

“You okay? Was starting to get a little worried.”

He nodded, “Fine. Just some personal shit going on.”

He had never been a good liar. But you knew that it wasn’t the time to press the issue, “Alright. I’m here if you wanna talk, you know. Every now and then I even have good advice.”

He forced a smile, “Thank you.”

He disappeared back towards the dorms and left you alone in the open expanse of the bar. You sighed, leaning your head back against the arm of the couch. Running your hands down over your face, you let out a quiet groan. You got up off the couch and shut off all the lights in the main area of the bar. It was one of the only times you’d ever seen it empty, clean, and quiet. You headed back towards the dorms.

Stopping just outside Juice’s door, you took a deep breath in to pluck up some courage. You tapped your knuckles lightly on his door that was slightly ajar. You heard some shuffling around before his voice called out for you to come in.

You walked in to see him in a t-shirt and a pair of boxers. Your breath got caught in your throat, and for a moment you forgot that you were popping in to check on him. You shook your head to dispel the thoughts. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, feet planted firmly on the floor. He wouldn’t look up at you and it made your heart sink inside your chest.

“You sure you’re alright? If you want some company I—”

“I’m fine,” he cut you off, something he’d never done before, “Goodnight, Y/N. I’ll see you in the morning.”

You tried to hide how much it had stung to have him be that short with you. Your voice was soft, “Goodnight.”

You laid in bed and stared up at the ceiling. You hated that Juice being short with you had such a negative effect on you, but he’d never been that way with you. The club had been through some serious ups and downs, and even when things felt like they were crumbling, he was always kind and soft with you. It concerned you as much as anything else.

It was reaching into the small hours of the morning and you still hadn’t been able to fall asleep. You huffed, swinging your legs off the bed and standing up. You flipped the hood of your sweatshirt up and made your way out into the clubhouse, hoping that maybe a shot or two of something strong would help put you to sleep. You were fumbling around in the dark when you heard the click of a gun behind you.

“It’s me,” you knew it was Juice, so you didn’t bother to turn around.

“Jesus Christ,” he clicked the safety back on his gun and let his hands drop to his sides, “Why are you up so early?”

“Late,” you corrected, “Never fell asleep.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously,” you grabbed a bottle of whiskey and took a swig, cringing as the liquor burned down your throat.

“Whoa, whoa,” Juice walked over and took the bottle from you, “I don’t think that’s the answer to the problem.”

You looked at him, still seeing worry etched into his features, the light in his eyes just a little duller than usual, “What’s going on with you?”

He glanced over at you as he put the bottle away, “What?”

“You heard me. What happened tonight?”

“Is that why you haven’t been able to sleep?”

It felt childish to say, but you did anyway, “You’ve never snapped at me like that.”

He sighed, running his hand along his fauxhawk as he did. He forced himself to look over at you. He couldn’t lie to you but he didn’t want to tell you the truth either. There was too much on the line for both of you.

“It’s nothing that you need to get roped into,” he answered honestly.

“I’m not just Opie’s sister, you know,” you waited for him to look you in the eyes, “I’m your friend. I’m…I’m someone who cares about you. You can talk to me—I’m not just gonna go running to my fucking brother.”

“I know,” his response was immediate, “I know you won’t. It’s not that. It’s just, fuck,” he shook his head, “The whole thing is a mess.”

“C’mon,” you waved for him to walk with you back towards the dorms, “sit and talk with me.”

The two of you found yourselves sat on Juice’s bed. You were both sitting cross-legged, facing each other. Juice twisted his hands nervously in his lap as he started to tell you about everything that had been happening with him and Roosevelt and Potter. He told you about what they had said to him at the meeting that night, about the position that they were putting him in.

“I can’t go to the club with this.”

“Why not?” you knew the situation wasn’t ideal, but there was no one that the club hated more than the feds. If anything, they would be more than willing to help take them down or at the very least run them out of Charming.

“I can’t risk losing this,” he gestured around him to the dorm and clubhouse around him, “It’s the only home, the only family that I’ve got,” he paused, eyes searching your face for a moment, “And I can’t lose you either.”

A wave of warmth washed over you at the sentiment. You reached forward and placed your hands on top of his, “Juice, like it or not, you’re never going to be able to get rid of me. You’re stuck with me now.”

He chuckled, trying to make it seem like his emotions weren’t about to get the better of him, “Promise?”

“Promise,” you nodded towards his nightstand where his laptop was resting, “Grab that for me.”

He did as you asked, but couldn’t hide his confusion as he handed it over to you. You smiled at the expression on his face as you began to start typing away on his keyboard. In that moment he realized he’d never seen you use a computer—you’d never had a reason to around him. He watched in awe as your fingers flew across the keyboard.

You were lying on your stomach on his bed, laptop propped up on his pillow. Juice was lying down beside you, close enough for you to feel the heat radiating off of his body and soaking into yours. You tried not to focus on that as you continued to click through windows and move things around on his desktop.

“Do I get to ask what you’re doing?”

You chuckled, “I’m doing a little information recon,” you glanced over at him with a smile, “You’re not the only one with tech know-how around here, Juicy. I just never wanted to steal your thunder in front of the guys.”

He chuckled, shaking his head, “How kind of you. What’re you looking for, anyway?”

“Dirt,” you replied simply.

“On Potter?” when you nodded in response, he couldn’t hide the doubt that was warping his features, “You’re not going to be able to find anything on him. There’s no way his shit isn’t locked in a vault somewhere behind twenty million walls of encryptions.”

You shook your head, “Oh ye of little faith. No one is clean,” you sighed, “Especially not the fucking feds.”

Juice laughed, “Now you’re sounding like a patch.”

You chuckled, “Might as well be.”

Your typing faltered when you felt his hand slide underneath the warm fabric of your hoodie. His palm rested gently in the center of your back, and he didn’t make any comment about it. You fought to keep your composure, but the warmth seeping into your skin from his was making it difficult.

He rested his chin onto your shoulder and you felt like you were about to combust. He spoke up, his tone gentle, “Thank you.”

“Yea,” you fought to keep your tone even, “of course. You know I’ve always got your back.”

“And I’m sorry. About earlier, I mean. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that—I know you just wanted to help.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” he slid his hand so that his arm was wrapped around you and pulled you close to him, prying your attention away from his computer, “I was just hit with all these thoughts of losing everything that I have here. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”

You reveled in the feelings of his arms being wrapped around you. Gently, hesitantly, you reached out and traced your fingers down the side of his face. He let his eyes flutter shut as he leaned into your touch and you could feel your heart swelling inside your chest. There was a softness to him that you hoped he would never lose.

“We’re going to figure this out,” you leaned in and pressed your forehead to his, “Do you trust me?”

He took a deep breath and nodded as he wrapped his arms tighter around you, “Yea, I do.”

“Juice?” you asked after a few moments of silence.

He pulled away from you just enough so that he could look into your eyes, “Yea?”

“Can I stay here with you tonight?”

His heart was beating fast enough that he could’ve sworn that you could hear it, “Y-yea. Of course.”

You smiled as you shut the laptop and placed it back onto his bedside table. You shimmied yourself underneath the covers and waited for him to do the same. It was going to be a long few days of trying to get as many answers put together before everyone got back, but those were problems for the morning. For now, you focused on the feeling of Juice’s heartbeat against your cheek as you snuggled into him. His hand caressed your back and you let out a quiet hum of contentment. You felt him smile against your forehead before he placed a gentle kiss there.

“Goodnight,” he said softly.

You finally felt your exhaustion starting to kick in, “Goodnight.”

[ask-the-clergy-bc]

Headcanons for dew, rain, mountain and the papa’s s/o (feel free to leave out the ghoulies if you want <3) revealing that they have a glass eye after they’ve been dating for a while, but with a silly spontaneous taking out of the eye. (I recommend watching a video on how glass eyes work first though <3)

Thank you so much for recommending the videos, they really helped! I mostly went with your request of having the reveal be a silly prank and mixed it in with a few other scenarios, I hope that’s ok! And heck yeah, I’ll be happy to add the ghouls to it! Please enjoy! :)

Also feedback is always welcome!

Ember, Rain, Mountain, and the Papas React to their S/O removing their Glass Eye for the first time

Rain: Your ghoul lover had known about your eye since you first became an item. But it was becoming clear more and more often that he was very curious about your eye. He was a quiet and polite ghoul by nature despite his massive curiosity, so you knew it would take some time before he approached you on his own with questions. Not that you would have minded! Rain was respectful and you trusted him to be the same when it came to your eye. When one day you had taken it out to adjust after it had been bothering you for most of the morning you caught your lover watching, utterly fascinated. But Rain looked ashamed the moment you looked back at him. “It’s ok to be curious, Babe. It’s not a bad thing!” You assured him with a gentle smile and beckoned him over. Rain was happy you weren’t upset with him and did end up asking quite a bit! How to clean it, how does it stay, what is it made out of? You considered it a real bonding experience between you both!

Mountain: The drummer had been more blunt about your eye than anticipated, but it was obvious he meant no disrespect. During a conversation it eventually came up that your eye was fake. Mountain replied with a factual, “oh I noticed. It’s quite amazing.” You were taken aback by his genuine appreciation for the simple prosthesis, and you pressed to know why. Mountain took the time to explain that he found human medicines and inventions incredible. In Hell there were no such things as prosthetics or any medical machinery. When you lost a limb or a body part you just dealt with it. Mountain eventually told you the only time he has seen another eye like yours was one that belonged to a stone ghoul leader. It was an exquisitely carved and smoothed green gem! He ends up comparing the high quality of your eye to the gem and lamented that he would never be able to carve a rock to the degree of which your eye was made! It was a fascinating conversation, as you never considered what happened to ghouls in Hell before they came to Earth. It even made you blush when Mountain admitted he thought your eye was one of the most amazing things in the world.

Ember: The first time you removed your eye in front of the fire ghoul you had startled him! All you said was, “Hey babe, wanna see a trick?” and plucked your eye out. The lack of warning certainly caught him off guard as he jumped like a cat. You laughed HARD when his tail was stiffened straight and he garbled half sentences at you. When his brain finally processed what happened he threw his hands up, exasperated. “You could have just TOLD ME, I thought you were about to do something fucking TERRIFYING!” A few minutes after catching your breath you almost regretted showing him as his enthusiasm started to show. Ever since he found out your eye was fake he INSISTED that your next eye should be all white so you could pretend to be an Emeritus. Ember vehemently claimed it’d be hilarious to watch everyone shit their pants when you come out MARKED BY LUCIFER! Of course, you know how terrible of an idea that is! But hey, he’s got the right spirit!

Papa Nihil: Originally randomly removing your eye was going to be a small joke. It was a prank you liked to do from time to time, and you’d be lying if you said you DIDN’T enjoy the reactions you got. Some people looked confused and others jumped from shock. It always ended in huge peels of laughter from you and your friends. What you could have never anticipated was what would happen was Nihil cackling after the fact. You had expected shock or curiosity, but not the Grand Papa practically laughing in your face. When he saw your confused look he gestured for you to come over. It was your turn to laugh when he removed a bottom row of teeth from his mouth. When you sat down to exchange stories Nihil told you about a wild bar fight he got into back in the 70’s. It resulted in him having a banged up jaw and needing a small row of bottom teeth to be permanently replaced. When you shared your story he was just as happy to listen!

Papa I: You weren’t planning on taking out your eye in front of Papa, but necessity waits for no one. That day you were trying a new prosthesis from your doctor, but it just didn’t seem to work out for you. The eye was a slightly different fit and shape than you were used to and it had been irritating you all morning! Papa and you had taken to the sitting room to read together, but the eye made it impossible! you couldn't focus with the damn thing bothering you. You had enough and just popped to accursed thing out. Moments after your sigh of relief you realized Papa had stopped to watch you, a look of concern plastered on his face. He didn't seem alarmed that you were holding an eye in your hand, more so that you looked so uncomfortable. “Are you alright? Is your eye hurting you?” It took a moment to snap out of your stupor but you shook your head and explained everything. Papa nodded politely and smiled, happy to know you were ok. After you excused yourself you were quick to go back to your old eye. When you settled down next to him again you couldn’t help but quench your newfound curiosity. “It doesn’t bother you that my eye is fake?” Papa set down his book, confused as he removed the reading glasses from his face. “.... why should that bother me?” Honestly, that one question was all you needed to hear.

Papa II: When you first started dating you were immediately open about your eye. It wasn’t a terribly big deal for you, but you felt it fair to let him know. Papa only ‘hmm’d’ when you told him but thanked you for the information. If anything, unless it was bothering you it rarely came up in your day to day life! The only time you’ve ever seen him react to it was when he caught someone staring at your face at a clergy function. Your eye was incredibly realistic but there was always bound to be someone who noticed it was a prosthesis. You were used to it, as you knew people were often curious. Very few people ever made you uncomfortable. Papa on the other hand did not share your sentiment. One thing everyone knew about the second Emeritus is how he absolutely despised anything he considered, in his words, “boorish”. Before you could say anything to the person Papa’s voiced hissed out as his hand clasped your shoulder. “Do you mind, or are you going to stare like a gaping troglodyte.” The sibling didn’t need to be told twice and immediately scurried away. Papa cleared his throat as you shook your head, trying to hide your smile. He apologized for speaking over you, and even looked a little embarrassed at his sudden defensiveness. You, in turn, told him he could make up it up to you by getting you a drink!

Papa III: Your mischievous streaks were only matched by Papa’s. It’s what made you fall for each other, after all! So naturally you decided your big reveal would have to be a good one. You waited until the perfect opportunity arose one night. You both had a fun game of saying or doing the most over the top romantic clichés you could think of. It was like your own little game you only played with each other! Papa's favorite tactic was to bombard you with the cheesiest pick up lines he could think of! You loved to roll your eyes and pretend you didn't love every minute. The moment finally came one night when Papa had fallen into your lap, proclaiming how amazing your eyes were. Papa went over the top to make you laugh- saying how much they sparkled like the night sky and were like gems he wanted to keep like little treasures. You grinned and without missing a beat reached up to your face. “You like them that much? Here-” he gasped as you plucked it out, “you can have one!” It took Papa a few moments before he howled laughing, you joining him shortly. Papa praised you for your excellent comedic timing and it has been your inside joke ever since!!

Papa IV/Copia: The fact that Copia saw you taking out your eye at all had been a rather hilarious coincidence... to you at least! It often slipped your mind when you first started seeing each other to tell him of your eye. It wasn't a huge concern for you and every time you remembered you figured the right opportunity would come. One day when you woke up you decided it was as good a time as ever to clean it. You had been ready to start cleaning it and plucked it out as Copia wandered into your shared bathroom, half asleep. Copia hollered at first when he saw you remove it. He frantically shook his head and rubbed at his own eyes to make sure he was awake. When you both realized what had happened Copia had little time to blush as you doubled over laughing. Eventually, after your giggle fit, Copia apologized profusely for his crappy behavior. He explained that he was still waking up and thought you had just randomly pulled something out of your eye socket. You had to convince him a couple of times that you did not take offense to his reaction. As far as you were concerned, no harm no foul! You knew that Copia would NEVER purposely make someone feel bad. Eventually he came around and accepted that you weren’t mad at him!

[serpentinesomebody]

Why Janus Planned The Entirety Of His Own Acceptance Arc From The Very Beginning

I think that Janus planned everything. From his reveal all the way to POF, he mapped it all out like a game of chess. And I think I finally know why, too.

So let’s start at his goals. He represents deceit, and has the goal of self-preservation. Additionally, however, he wants the one thing all sides want: for Thomas to listen to them.

Janus’ introduction is very different from Virgil’s. Thomas didn’t even know about him. And when things settle down, we get an idea as to what his first impression of Janus is: he’s scared of him, and skeptical, too. He doesn’t trust him. But this is exactly what Janus wanted. But why? Why present himself as a frightening and untrustworthy side? How could that possibly benefit him or Thomas?

Well, let’s look at what would have happened if just appeared and introduced himself as, well, himself. No disguises, no theatre scenario, none of that.

Well for one, Thomas probably wouldn’t be as afraid of him. What scared Thomas so much, I think, was that Janus was able to disguise himself for almost half an hour and he didn’t even know. And until Patton appeared at the end, he truly believed that he had no morality, that it was Janus the entire time. He gets the impression that this new side can manipulate him, and quite easily, too. So not only does he not trust this new side, but he’s scared of him, too.

But if Janus introduced himself upfront? Thomas still wouldn’t trust him, but there wouldn’t be much fear either. Thomas would likely just see him as a simple nuisance. He just doesn’t naturally invoke the same fear that Virgil does. Without the fear factor, he only has distrust.

But why would Thomas not trust him if he introduced himself upfront?

Well, he has multiple things going against him. His primary function is deceit. Not exactly helping his case. But let’s say they look past that. Well, he also has a ‘snake face,’ which really doesn’t make him come across as an honest, well-meaning person. Lastly, pretty much all the sides do not like him. Virgil makes his full-on hatred pretty obvious, and Logan certainty doesn’t seem to like him much either. Patton sees him as an antagonist, his opposite. Roman appreciates his charm, but still sees him as a creepy villain nonetheless. All the sides are against him, so how could he convince Thomas to trust him?

But if trying to intimidate Thomas into listening to him won’t work, and being honest won’t work, what will?

Deceiving him.

He knows that even if he’s honest, Thomas still will not trust him. So if Thomas isn’t going to trust him either way, he needs to find a way to manipulate the situation so that even if Thomas won’t listen to him at the moment, he still has control over the situation.

The first episode with Janus goes perfectly according to plan.

One thing that always struck me as odd was that this was the situation that Janus decided he needed to be involved in? Some texting drama?

But that’s exactly what Janus needed. He needed something small, something he could ensure he could manage. If he had made his first appearance in SVS, that would be way too much for Thomas to take in at once, and Thomas wouldn’t have any clue as to what Janus was like. Janus introduced himself over something minor, something insignificant that he wasn’t truly needed for, for the sole purpose of leaving an impression. He meant to reveal himself at the end.

Now let’s move on to SVS. This time, Janus drops the disguise much earlier. And it’s so, so obvious that this was intentional. Janus says things he knows Logan would never say. Hell, Janus doesn’t often use metaphors himself. He proposes hypothetical situations and uses similes, but when does he ever say anything like ‘straight from the horse’s mouth’?

So if he dropped the disguise so early, why even bother doing it in the first place? Simple: he just needed to buy himself a bit more time before Logan came. He needed to ensure that the courtroom scenario was already set up. Janus knew that Logan would be upset that he wasn’t included in a courtroom scenario and would possibly try to insert himself into one of the roles that Janus didn’t want him in.

This begs the question, though, why have Logan on the sidelines?

Because Janus knows that Logan is an intelligent and professional person, and would likely point out that the trial wasn’t exactly following legal code. So, Janus benches him.

As for Patton, well, it just makes the most sense that he would be in the position he was. Patton is the one that Janus is trying to oppose.

But what about Virgil? Why have Virgil as the jury? Why decide that the one person who hates him the most, who is the most biased against him, gets to decide who wins the case? Simple: Janus knows that Virgil will still let him win the case. But how does he have so much faith in that? Because he knows Virgil. They have history, and by now, Virgil’s actions are predictable to him. Virgil is a pessimist by nature, and blunt. He won’t lie to Thomas and say that he thinks he’s a good person just to spare Thomas’ feelings. Janus knows that despite what Virgil thinks of him, he will judge Thomas as guilty.

As for Roman? Janus may not know Roman as well as Virgil, but Roman is predictable. When it comes to morals, he will follow Patton, no matter what. He has to in order to keep up his image as the hero. So, Janus knows that Virgil will judge Thomas as guilty, and he knows that Roman will sentence Thomas to go to the wedding because he knows that Roman knows that that’s what Patton wants.

That was his entire goal for that episode: ensure that Thomas goes to the wedding.

And the reason he needs Thomas to go to the wedding is because it sets the stage for POF.

Janus knows that Thomas will be upset after the wedding, and he knows that Thomas’ mood will have an effect on Patton. His first goal in the episode, aside from bringing up a few facts, is to get Patton to snap. He needs Thomas to see that sometimes Patton doesn’t always know everything, that things are more complicated then that. And, more importantly, he needs to present himself as the hero this time.

As I said, Janus knows that Roman will side with Patton no matter what. So if Roman is by Patton’s side, then who’s there for Thomas?

He is.

Janus presents himself as the hero. This scene is such a crucial moment. He’s clearly trying to portray the image that he is on Thomas’ side.

But if that’s the case, then why does he dodge Patton’s attack and let Thomas get hit instead?

He feels like he has no other choice. Patton is still insisting that it’s dangerous for Thomas to take self-care too far. The only way Janus can get Patton to see that he’s hurting Thomas is...to let Patton literally, physically hurt Thomas. This, I think, is probably the most difficult thing Janus has ever had to do thus far. Thomas’ safety and happiness is his one goal, there is no one who he puts before Thomas, not even himself.

It’s the hardest thing Janus has had to do, but it works. Patton finally realizes, finally admits that he doesn’t know everything.

Janus is so close to getting accepted.

But there’s one problem left: Roman.

Roman doesn’t trust Janus. And here’s the thing: Janus needed Patton to accept him, yes, but Roman was also a crucial component. I don’t think Janus’ intention was to antagonize Roman, rather, I think he wanted Roman’s approval. Pushing Thomas’ hero down doesn’t help anyone, especially Thomas. He has Patton’s approval, now he needs Roman’s. He needs Roman, Thomas’ hero, to see him as one too. And that, that is where he made a horrible mistake.

He tried to get Roman to take a liking to him in the courtroom, not by much, of course, since he still wanted Roman to sentence Thomas to the wedding after all, but enough for Roman to not be completely against him.

But he screwed up. Roman realized that Janus’ praise in the courtroom wasn’t 100% honest, and now he full-on hates Janus.

The way Janus tries to fix this, I think, is by giving his name. Granted, I’m sure that he would have done it sometime during POF anyway, but he thinks that it’s enough to change Roman’s mind and it isn’t.

This, I think, is the real reason why Janus is so harsh when Roman makes fun of his name.

What he expects is going to happen, is that Roman is going to warm up to him a bit. Or at the least, that he’ll stop spiraling/panicking and take a minute to truly listen to Janus, perhaps allow him to explain himself.

But that’s not what happens. And Janus just snaps.

Because he was so close, so close to wrapping up his acceptance in a perfect, neat little bow and it is ruined.

Sure, he still had his relationship with Virgil and Logan to work on, but if Patton and Roman were on his side, Thomas would be too. And it would be three against two, meaning he’d likely get a permanent seat at the table. He could fix his relationship with Virgil and Logan later, but he needed a seat at the table. Yes, his plan is kinda rushed, but he wants to get to Thomas as fast as possible so he can help him with things like this in the future-things where there could be even more important things at stake. I’m sure he didn’t want to hurt anyone, but he felt like he had to go with this plan in order to help in the long-term.

But Roman laughs at his name and he is so frustrated, so tired, and he doesn’t know how else he can try to get Roman on his side and he snaps.

Afterwards, you can tell he regrets it. He knows he messed up.

And when Thomas says that Roman is still his hero, Roman turns to Janus in a silent question of ‘is he lying?’ But Janus interprets it as, ‘is he telling the truth?’ and so he nods. And when he sees that Roman is upset, he realizes that there was a miscommunication between them, but before he can do anything about it, Roman is already gone.

TLDR: All of Janus’ actions are planned to get him a seat at the table, except for when he snaps and calls Roman ‘the evil twin,’ and fucks up majorly.

[shroomcult]

@soulxmakaweek

Day 4: Apologize

I fell way behind with Soma week because I got slammed with work and this monster of a fic took me too long to write.

Summary: 

Maka comes to realize that Soul had never felt fully comfortable around Crona, and in ignoring this entirely - she unknowingly hurt her closest friend.

Special thanks to Tori @chichirichick (she betas all of my dumpster fires, bless her) for proofreading this mess of emotions and also to Zi @azroazizah for coming up with the concept for this fic. 

**Disclaimer** This story is not about putting blame on Crona, but instead about acknowledging the fact that Soul went through trauma due to their actions and it was never taken into consideration by Maka before inviting them into their friend group. I'm not saying Crona didn't deserve support, but it's also completely valid for Soul - a victim of Crona - to not feel entirely safe around them regardless of their tragic background and circumstances. If Crona is a big comfort character for you and you feel you would likely be upset by this concept, then I recommend not reading it altogether. We all interpret things different and we're all entitled to our own opinions, and I'm not going to get in arguments with people over this.

It’d been a while since the Spartoi team was all together again.

After the fall of Asura, they really had no purpose to join forces as a team. No big baddie to unite them in ass-kickery. 

The skies were blue again. There were still Kishin eggs to take down, and a shaky new diplomatic relationship with the witches to maintain as well. 

Things were more or less … normal. Boring, even.

The only big difference Blackstar could discern was that nobody seemed to have time to just hang out and be friends anymore.

Kid was over his head with his new responsibilities, and while he was doing an admirable job filling his father’s shoes; there was a steep learning curve and his perfectionist tendencies only made it more challenging to overcome. He upheld a calm and collected demeanor in the public’s eyes, but Liz and Patty spent most of their time holding him together behind the scenes. 

Soul and Maka were a different situation entirely.

It was odd enough to adjust to the recent change in the nature of their relationship. They claimed to be the same as they’ve always been - just Soul & Maka. Only, they grew much closer after the hardships they had endured both in the book of Eibon and on the moon.

They had been close to begin with, but this was a different kind of close. Stolen glances, hands reaching for each other when they thought nobody was looking. Blushing for almost no damn reason. 

Something was going on between them - he could be sure of that.

More recently, however, Maka had been particularly obsessive about solving the dilemma of Crona’s entrapment on the moon. She was driving herself to a slow-burning insanity, considering every moment that she hadn’t rescued them yet to be a personal failure.

She’d been spending much of her time in the restricted section of the library, consuming every piece of relevant research for hours on end. Soul often stayed up there with her doing the same, or at the very least keeping her silent company when he was too burnt out to read anymore.

He’d also spent much of his extra time with Stein, training to perfect his sound-wave abilities into his own form of wavelength attack.

He’d been giving his all ever since making deathscythe status to hone his strength and better serve Maka. He’d even been able to hold his own for a surprising amount of time in the sparring ring against Blackstar, and that was a feat in and of itself.

All of the focus on Crona’s rescue had appeared to be wearing on him, though. 

Soul may have accepted Crona into his friend group for Maka’s sake, even empathized with them - but he had never fully trusted the demon sword meister. Although Soul was outwardly friendly towards them, Blackstar noticed the way his friend had watched them like a hawk before they turned back to Medusa. He was always ready for a scenario like that because he had never felt entirely safe around them to begin with.

Not that Maka had bothered to even take Soul’s feelings into consideration before forgiving Crona on his behalf.

She couldn’t have possibly been that dense. She had to have been actively ignoring the signs of Soul’s discomfort because she couldn’t handle acknowledging them.

And now she was doing the same thing all over again even with Crona as far away as the moon. It was obvious that Soul was doing what he always did - shoving his own feelings aside in favor of Maka’s. The loyal mutt of a boy valued her wellbeing far above his own, that was for certain.

He just seemed so exhausted of it all now. Searching tirelessly with Maka for a solution that may not even exist took up much of his time and energy.  

He never had the time to shoot hoops or play video games like he used to, and Blackstar was far above begging for his attention. He stopped even bothering to ask him.

Just for one night though, by some divine luck - everybody was willing to clear their schedule to have a late night dinner at the most beloved and heart-attack inducing burger joint in town. 

Every member of Spartoi was crammed into the largest booth in the restaurant and their chatter was loud enough to fill the whole section. 

There were multiple conversations happening at a time, but Blackstar was zeroing in on Soul who had his chin resting on his palm and that stupid, dopey look he got on his face when he was proud of Maka. Yuck. Keep it in your pants, loverboy.

Maka was next to Soul, his arm stretched out behind her on the booth, while Ox engaged her in a fiery debate over god knows what across the table from her. Judging by the redness in baldy’s face - Maka was on the winning side. He really couldn’t understand Soul’s hard-on for a bossy know-it-all personality, but whatever floats his boat he supposed.  

He decided he’d seen enough of that look on his best friend’s face and crumpled up a straw wrapper, dipping it in his soda and sticking it at the end of his straw.

He blew on the other end, sending the sticky wad of paper flying across the table. The projectile hit its target directly on the cheek.

“Fuck’s sake dude, how old are you?” he grumbled, reaching over the table to grab a handful of napkins to clean his face off with.

Maka snatched some of his napkins for herself, rubbing it vigorously into the flecks of cola that stained her uniform. “You got my shirt all wet, idiot.”

Blackstar simply threw his head back to cackle obnoxiously. “I just thought I should break up your lame little debate team fight before Ox over here pops a blood vessel. You know he can’t handle losing well.”

“I wasn’t losing!” Ox hissed under his breath.

Maka only met her opponent’s glare with a shit-eating grin.

“Hey, Maka! What had you stopped to talk with Professor Stein about earlier today?” Tsubaki cut in, obviously attempting to diffuse another argument between the two competitive brainiacs.

Maka’s expression relaxed into something a little more neutral, seemingly caught off guard by the question. Debate-mode successfully disarmed.

“Oh. Well… I just had some questions about my black blood research for him.” 

Blackstar didn’t miss the way Soul tensed up beside her at the mention of black blood. His face was void of any distinct emotion, but something was off in his body language. The way his shoulders squared as if he were instinctively bristling.

Anyone with a shred of social awareness could have deduced that black blood, Medusa, and Crona were not Soul’s favorite topics. It wasn’t unusual for him to shut down and discontinue any contributions to a conversation when any of these things were brought up. 

Unfortunately for Soul, all of those subjects were constantly on Maka’s mind since she began her obsessive pursuit for a solution to Crona’s ordeal.

“Oh? And what did he have to say?” Tsubaki pressed, completely oblivious to the tense situation she was potentially triggering.

“As you’re already aware, there’s not really any official research on the black blood that exists. We’ve been digging through countless books - gathering as much information about madness and Kishins as we can, but it can only get us so far. It would be so much more useful if we could get our hands on a physical sample of the substance itself.”

Soul’s eyes widened in concern, but only for a second before he slipped his usual poker face back on. His Adam’s apple bobbed nervously despite the veneer of calm he displayed.

“Anyways,” she continued, turning to look at Soul, “I was going to talk to you about this later, but maybe some of the black blood still remains in your system? I know we believed it was all gone, but surely there’s some residual amount of it lingering behind? Something we could maybe isolate, extract and create a concentrate of? Stein said it was unlikely, but technically possible. We have to try for Crona, right, Soul?”

He was no longer wearing his mask of apathy. Unmistakeable, visible discomfort was etched into his facial features and he was clenching his hands, knuckles whitening from the pressure. Everyone at the table was hushed and the tension was palpable.

“He doesn’t have to try anything,” Kid’s voice cut sharply through the silence, golden eyes flashing sternly at her.

A soft gasp escaped her and her eyebrows shot up, clearly taken-aback by the sudden burst of hostility from her boss and close friend. Her eyes darkened seconds later, determination setting in.

 “I think that’s his decision to make, and I’d like to hear what he has to say,” she turned her attention back to Soul, hope still shining in her eyes.

He fidgeted with his necktie, loosening it and clearing his throat. “Yeah, s’fine. Whatever you need, I guess.”

Maka’s face lit up into a bright smile that turned Blackstar’s stomach and she pulled Soul into a brief hug. “I knew we could count on you, Soul! You’re the best partner ever.”

“Whatever, it’s no problem. Just try not to drain me of all my blood, alright?” he chuckled weakly, avoiding her eyes in favor of staring a hole in the middle of the table.

She gave an easygoing laugh in response, and went back to conversing with Tsubaki as if she hadn’t just pressured her partner into volunteering himself as a guinea pig for the sake of someone who had literally sliced him open from shoulder to hip and infected him with black blood to begin with.

Is she fucking serious?

Blackstar was practically vibrating with fury from the interaction he’d just watched, and Tsubaki’s normally soothing hand on his shoulder did little to calm him down. When he glanced at Kid, he instantly knew the death god had shared his frustration with Maka’s obliviousness. 

It wasn’t long before Soul abruptly stood from his place at the end of the booth, pulling a twenty out of his wallet and placing it on the table in front of him.

“Soul? What are you doing? The food hasn’t even gotten here yet,” Maka blinked at him in confusion.

“I’m not feelin’ too great - gonna head out, sorry guys. Could you just bring my food back in a to-go box?” he said with an apologetic quirk of his lips. He squeezed her shoulder gently before turning on his heels and making his way out of the diner in long strides.

Why does she look so shocked? Does she really not understand that she’s been hurting him?

After that, the night passed by in a haze for Blackstar. He hardly spoke for the rest of the meal due to the fact that he was using all of his mental capacity to keep his impulse to stand up and loudly call his friend out in front of everybody in check. 

The only thing truly stopping him was the knowledge that Soul would likely be embarrassed and more than a little pissed off if he’d made a big scene over something that he wasn’t even willing to talk about.  

So he waited - held his tongue until he could lash out in private.

As everyone was saying their goodbyes, Blackstar watched her rise from her seat gathering her to-go boxes carefully and giving him a nod of acknowledgement before she headed out.

His eyes bore into the back of her head as she left, and Tsubaki’s hand clamped gently on him for the second time that night. Her eyes were crinkled with a gentle concern.

“I think you should leave this between them. If Soul wanted all of this out in the open, he would have had that conversation with her himself.”

A heavy sigh settled in his chest, “You know how he is. He’s the suffer in silence type and he always does her bidding. If nobody says anything, then nothing’ll change. I just want to talk to her - not like I’m gonna beat her ass or anything … unless she gives me a reason to.” 

“Blackstar,” she chided, fully aware that he would make good on that threat.

“I know, I know. I won’t be long, see ya at home,” he said, throwing up placating hands before stuffing them in his pockets and striding in the direction Maka had gone. 

            _______________________________________________

Maka set her walk home at a leisurely pace, dragging her feet slightly as she watched the sunset bleed into the sky above.

It wasn’t that she was trying to prolong seeing Soul, or that she wasn’t worried about the way he’d acted back in the diner - like something was eating at him. 

She was pretty positive that he wasn’t physically ill, which only left the option of it being an emotional issue. 

And getting Soul to talk about emotional issues was like trying to pull teeth from a temperamental bear. 

She had to figure out a way to go about this delicately, and she had to figure it out soon because their apartment block was fast approaching.

She stopped in her tracks when she felt the presence of a familiar soul behind her. His steps had been so quiet, she wouldn’t have even been aware he was stalking her from behind if it weren’t for her exceptional soul perception abilities.

“I know you’re following me, Blackstar.”

In moments, he was stepping out in front of her. “Wasn’t trying to hide. I need to talk to you,” his voice was uncharacteristically stern.

She wasn’t stupid. She knew Blackstar had some kind of problem with her since dinner. He was deathly quiet and glowering at her for most of the night; very unusual behavior from someone who never shuts up or hesitates to start a fight. 

“Okay, I’m listening,” she said, already preparing to defend herself against whatever absurd argument he wanted to pull her into.

“The whole situation with Crona - have you ever once thought about how Soul feels about it?”

Whatever she had been expecting to come out of his mouth - that wasn’t it.

“What? I mean, I know how Soul feels. He wants Crona to be safe, just like I do. What are you trying to get at?”

“I’m not talking about what he thinks about Crona being stuck in the deathdamned moon, Maka! I mean have you ever thought about how he felt when you forced Crona into his life to begin with? After being sliced open?” 

Maka’s eyebrows shot up to her hairline and her mouth opened and closed a few times, baffled by the question. 

“Soul understands why I welcomed Crona as a friend. He trusts me,” she answered, hoping her voice conveyed the confidence that she couldn’t find in this moment.

This entire conversation was throwing her off.

“Yeah, okay. He accepted your decision because he trusts you, or loves you or whatever the fuck. We all know that - but that doesn’t mean he was comfortable with it. It doesn’t mean he felt safe. He just stuffed his own feelings down, because he knew it made it easier for you.”

Her throat tightened as her own conflicting emotions overcame her. He had no idea what he was talking about. Soul was fine. He’s always been fine. 

“Did he say that to you? That he didn’t feel safe?” she choked out. 

“Soul? You think he tells people things? About his feelings?” he snorted. “No, he doesn’t have to tell me shit. It’s clear on his face every time you mention Crona, or Medusa, or that fucking blood.”

“Maybe you’re just making assumptions about how he feels!” she shouted back, gripping handfuls of the front of his shirt.

He leaned in, completely unfazed by the rage burning in her eyes. “You ever noticed how when Crona was around, he was always watching them out of the corner of his eye - twitching every time they made some sudden move. You ever noticed how quiet and withdrawn he’d get around them? Or any time they were brought up? You didn’t - because you didn’t want to.” 

“Shut up! Y-you’re making something out of nothing. Are you trying to tell me that I should just give up and forget about Crona? That they don’t deserve to have a friend?” 

Some of his aggression was fizzling out as he released a heavy sigh, placing his hands calmly over hers, still clenching in his shirt. “I’m not trying to say that you shouldn’t have helped Crona, or that you shouldn’t keep trying to help them now. I’m only telling you that even if Soul has forgiven and moved on - he’s still a victim of Crona’s actions. He suffered trauma from that, even if he’s too fucking stubborn to admit it. Just acknowledge that maybe he needs a break from thinking about them - all of that shit that happened - every now and then. Get your head out of Crona’s ass long enough to check if he’s okay too.”

She stumbled over wordless sounds as her hands went limp and released their vice-grip on his clothing. She was trying desperately to think of a way to refute the awful things he was saying, but Blackstar wouldn’t give her the chance. 

“If you gave him even half the thought you gave to Crona - maybe you would have noticed it like everybody else has. I just want you to think about it for a bit, that’s all,” his voice softened towards the end, shoulders sagging slightly as he turned away, leaving her to deal with the aftermath of his confrontation.

The heat of tears prickled behind her eyelids and she clenched her fists tightly to her sides. 

She wanted so badly to swing around and scream at Blackstar’s retreating figure that he was wrong, that he had no idea what he was talking about and of course she thinks about her weapon.

But the longer she allowed his harsh words to sink in; the more she could feel the sting of truth settling into her heart.

Had she really been so blind? 

             _______________________________________________

Soul had been laying on his back in bed, hands resting on his stomach and eyes pointed at the ceiling, unmoving for some time. He wasn’t entirely sure how many hours, but he knew his playlist had ended long ago - no music played from the earbuds that were still jammed in his ears.

He couldn’t explain the heaviness in his heart. The anxiety that often set in whenever Maka mentioned Crona or the black blood. It was all water under the bridge, wasn’t it? There was no point in allowing himself to wallow in all the negative emotions that punched him in the gut at the mention of their name. It was selfish to feel those things - it was his job to give Maka his full support. His own feelings were irrelevant.

It was just harder on this particular night. Sure, she droned on about those sore subjects often. Their research revolved around it anyways. He’d just hoped that it could have been different just for one night.

He’d secretly been ecstatic when Maka begrudgingly agreed to shelve her research just long enough to get a late dinner with all of their friends. A break had been long overdue. 

Things had been different between them, after all. They’d been sharing a bed, and they’d even shared a few kisses in the small, rare moments that they’d spent alone together - focused only on each other. They were chaste kisses, but he’d greedily take whatever he could get. 

As she became more frantic about her lack of results in helping Crona, he may as well have not even existed to her. 

He’d just needed that one dinner to pretend things were normal, to pretend as though he was on a date with her and she was willing to spend time with him and think about literally anything aside from her latest fixations. Instead, she’d asked him to play part in some unsound experiment - to prod for things that he hadn’t wanted to find again. It had only been made more uncomfortable by the scrutinizing presence of all of their friends. 

He’d felt used.

Soul perked up at the familiar sound of the front door creaking open and slamming shut. He was immediately ashamed of the pavlovian response he had to the sound of his meister returning - the little flip in his heart that made him feel like a stupid dog wagging its tail at the sound of its master.

Just keep to yourself. She doesn’t need to interact with you in this useless state of self pity. You don’t deserve her comfort.

Self-loathing curled in his gut and he kept his eyes stubbornly trained on a water stain in the ceiling.

Suddenly, light flooded into his dark room as his door was hesitantly opened. He reflexively brought himself to sit up on his elbows only to meet a teary-eyed Maka.

All self-indulgent angsty thoughts instantly evaporated from his head, and he was ripping his earbuds out and swinging his legs over the side of the bed to get up.

She made purposeful steps across his room, throwing her arms around his neck and forcing him back onto the bed with the motion.

“I’m so sorry, Soul,” she warbled mournfully into his sweater. 

“Huh? Sorry ‘bout what? What’s going on, Maka?” he tried to nudge her into looking up at him, but she adamantly refused.

She took a few shallow breaths before rubbing her wet cheek against the quickly-dampening fabric and looking up at him with dewy eyes.

“I haven’t been a good friend to you - have I? 

Was that a trick question?

“I-I don’t get what we’re talkin’ about here,” he stuttered uselessly, attempting to compensate for his lack of eloquence by brushing his fingers comfortingly through her soft hair.

“I never asked if you felt okay with Crona being around you. I never asked you if you forgave them at all - I just brought them into your space, your home. I just wanted them to have a chance at a normal life so badly - I ignored your pain, and I’m so sorry,” she rushed her confession out like it had been a breath she was holding in.

He had to fight the urge to bark out a laugh. It wasn’t that he found anything that she said humorous - it was just so strange that she was addressing this out of the blue. She’d seemed completely unaware as usual back at the diner, where had this even come from?

He was so lost in thought, he’d almost forgotten to respond and instantly regretted the prolonged silence he’d left her in. “Maka, it’s fine,” he insisted, “I get why you forgave Crona. I admire you for it.”

“But that doesn’t mean you were okay. I should have at least checked on you, or asked you about how you felt - or literally anything,’ she mumbled numbly from his chest.

“Hey. Look at me,” he said, lifting her cheek from its resting place against his sweater, “Sure, I didn’t feel the most comfortable around Crona. I think it was pretty awkward for both of us to be near each other. That doesn’t mean I dislike them, or didn’t want you to be their friend. You can’t beat yourself up over something I hadn’t bothered to tell you.”

His words hadn’t brought the comfort that he’d hoped they would, and her brows remained stubbornly crinkled. “If it had been me - if I was the one who’d been cut by that sword, would you still say that you don’t dislike them? That you’re okay with us being friends?”

It was a question that he instantly knew the answer to, but he was reluctant to say it out loud. He finally caved, bringing his eyes back to hers, “No. I wouldn’t have been able to forgive them if it was you.”

She closed her eyes tightly, nodding her head in grim acceptance of that truth. She had likely known that would be his answer already, but hearing it must have been difficult.

“But I love that about you. You have so much compassion. I only care for the few people that I’ve decided I love - I don’t have room in my heart for others like you do. I’d like to be more like you,” he whispered reverently, taking her cheeks in both of his hands and briskly wiping away all of the moisture he could reach with his thumbs.

“I should’ve had more compassion for you,” she lamented softly under her breath, eyes downcast.

“You’re not a fuckin’ mind reader, Maks. It was my choice not to bring anything up.”

She nodded slowly, but the way her grip tightened on him only confirmed his suspicion that she wasn’t going to forgive herself for it.

Minutes passed before a word was spoken, but Soul eventually cleared his throat. “You know, I don’t expect you to ever stop being friends with Crona, or to give up on rescuing them. I don’t want that. I don’t mind helping you like you’d asked earlier tonight, too. If that’s what you need from me, then I’m here.”

She brought herself to her elbows on top of him to get a better view of his face.

“I know. I’m not going to give up on them. But It matters to me that you’re happy too, and if that means you need a break from all that, then I want you to know that it’s okay to ask for that.”

“Right, I’ll keep that in mind,” he said in a hushed tone, distracting himself with a piece of her hair twirled between his fingers.

“And I don’t want to use your blood for research. It was wrong of me to even think of asking you that. We’ll find another way,” she assured him, voice tightening with emotion, “I definitely got carried away with all of this. It wasn’t healthy, and I really am sorry I’ve pushed you away in the process. We can’t solve this thing if we don’t have time to properly take care of ourselves. You’ve been working so hard with me, and I think we need more actual quality time together.”

“Yeah, I could get on board with that. I kinda walked out on dinner tonight, so how about we do something - just you and me tomorrow? Movies sound good?”

“Movies sounds great,” she hummed in agreement, hands idly playing with his hair.

As much as he would have preferred for her to continue her ministrations, he stopped her movements to grasp her hand, bringing it to his chest to rest above where she knew his scar was. He pressed down on her hand lightly.

“I’m glad it happened. I’m glad they gutted me, ‘cause I hadn’t understood what you meant to me till that moment,” he muttered, pressing a quick kiss to the top of her head.

She only exhaled shakily, hand tightening against the evidence of his devotion.

“I just hate that it took a lecture from Blackstar of all people for me to realize that I’d been hurting you.”

His eyes widened a little at that new piece of information. Blackstar was the one that brought all of this on her mind? He could’ve sworn it would have been Kid if anyone. He couldn’t help but feel a little touched that Blackstar had been so concerned about him, but he was also somewhat irritated that his friend had distressed Maka as much as he had.

“Blackstar, huh? Remind me to have a conversation with him about mindin’ his own business,” he laughed half-heartedly.

“No, don’t. I’m glad that he said what he did - I needed to hear it,” she urged him.

“Doesn’t matter. He didn’t have to make my girlfriend cry from guilt over bein’ friends with someone,” he muttered, but his face immediately burned a bright red as soon as he’d caught what he’d called her.

She was a similar shade, holding her breath as well as his gaze with a tortuously difficult to decipher expression on her face.

“That is, uh- I mean… fuck.”  

Very articulate. Great job, Soul.

He hadn’t needed to agonize over whether or not he’d just fucked everything between them for long because her face soon melted into a warm, genuine smile.

“Girlfriend, huh?” she said with a glimmer of mischief in her eye.

“I’d like that. If that’s w-what you want,” he wanted to kick himself for the voice crack he just experienced. Not cool in the slightest. 

At least she got a good giggle out of it. The melodic sound squeezed something in his chest and he swallowed nervously as a response.

She brushed back his bangs, leaning in to place a soft kiss to his forehead. She peppered a trail of kisses down his cheek until she reached his lips. 

This kiss was far from chaste. She cradled his cheek and jaw as she slanted her mouth sweetly over his, pressing fervently, constantly moving against him and eliciting a breathy moan from him that he would never admit to making. 

When she tried to separate, he followed her, bumping noses for a moment and giving the corner of her mouth a few more enthusiastic pecks before backing up and allowing her room to look at his face. 

“Girlfriend sounds nice, actually,” she smiled broadly, letting her fingers brush against the back of his neck.

“Glad that’s settled, then,” he laughed easily, not even bothering to feel any embarrassment over the flush of his skin or the lightness of his breath.

He crushed her to his chest, and they stayed like that for a while, just listening to the other’s loudly beating hearts until they were lulled to sleep. 

He’d have to thank Blackstar with a game of basketball later.

[lettrespromises]

#LettresPromises informs you : You have one notification. ──➤ 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐕𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐋!

─➤ @theastroooooworld​ 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 : ❝oi oi oi nikki ♡! i hope you are well as always. can i have hc's for Tanaka, Ushijima and Bokuto (separately) ? how would they behave with their childhood best friend who supports them since their beginning in volleyball but with whom they gradually fall in love ? thanks !!je t'aime tant, prends soin de toi et des tiens 🧡🌅❞ ─➤ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 : ❝my dearest cam,  forgive me for the terrible, terrible sense of never being on time but i’ve heard this letter comes at the right time (hopefully this letter will help a tiny bit while you’re healing.) je t’aime fort fort, prends soin de toi (et de ton tibia et de tes cervicales) et des tiens! sealed with a magic kiss to blow your pain away,  nikki.❞

──➤ 𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐎𝐁𝐉𝐄𝐂𝐓 : Tanaka, Bokuto and Ushijima gradually fall in love with their childhood best friend. ─➤ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : mentions of a nose bleeding.

──➤ Tanaka Ryuunosuke sent you a letter, would you like to read it?

Despite his flamboyant sense of worship for Kiyoko, Tanaka does not know how to handle emotions, romantic ones, that is. Sure, he (alongside with Nishinoya) are willing to kiss each centimeter of concrete blessed by Kiyoko’s footsteps, but despite his burning passion, Tanaka is rendered into a stuttering mess when the attention is focused on him.

He has hidden and sometimes projected his blooming crushes for other people onto proves of love for Kiyoko, and in that sense, knowing he could solely focus his attention on her brought him a sense of security because he is so scared of the unknown, especially romantically-wise.

Hence why, whenever he would find himself appreciating someone who wasn’t Kiyoko a bit too much to his own liking, he would bury that feeling deep down and instead transform these hushed sentiments into demonstrations of love for his one and only goddess. 

However.

Sometimes, feelings tend to be a bit stronger when they are mixed with nostalgia, that is, childhood nostalgia. Truth be told, you, Tanaka and Noya were always found together... And often in the worst scenarios (just like that one time you and Ryuu were waiting for Nishinoya and you had to help Tanaka contain all the blood leaking from his nose at the sight of the bombshell accompanying Nishinoya’s grandfather.) 

Surely enough, Tanaka had always seen you like the equivalent of Nishinoya, meaning that he would confess every little secret locked in the back of his mind, even those including Kiyoko. 

Your presence was comforting, and he always considered you extra fuel to animate his fire whenever you would watch him during practice (and you were the first to throw an empty bottle straight to his head whenever he would throw his shirt off after scoring an impressive bottle.)

But in a very, very dramatic way, Kiyoko found herself become gradually set free of Tanaka’s romantic antics and devotion which led her to question the cause of all of this— despite her dislike for any kind of grandiose display of devotion, the fact Tanaka had started to stop giving her attention was a huge red flag regarding his state.

She hesitated to go talk to Nishinoya, but she was expecting to be met with no serious answer, and instead, just watch him drool during several minutes. 

She, thus, went to the next best person who would be able to comprehend this sudden switch in attitude: you, and your lifelong experience regarding Tanaka.

You were undoubtedly quizzical, but things took another turn when Tanaka himself showed up around the corner of the gym, and an uncharacteristic blush crept on his cheeks, Kiyoko took it as a clue to leave you alone.

“Is there anything you wanted to tell me, Ryuu? Are you sick or anything? You haven’t been, you know, following Ki—“

“I like you a whole lot. A lot. Like, a lot.” He confessed, his body was rigid but his eyes testified of all the love he had for you.

You couldn’t help but allow a soft giggle to break free from your lips, “does that mean you’re going to be worshipping me now?”

And as soon as the words died on your lips, his dropped on one knee, and delicately reached for your hand which he enveloped with his palms and soon smothered with love-infused pecks. “Anything for you, my beautiful divinity. I’ve been waiting for this day since we were kids, now I got to worship you everyday, the sunshine of my life.”

──➤ Bokuto Koutarou sent you a letter, would you like to read it?

Before Akaashi came in the picture, you’ve always been his pilar, his rock, his pivot, his safe person. Bokuto soon learned to identify you as the person he could go to if anything were to happen.

You knew firsthand how to handle his emo mode since you were kids, and as a child, Bokuto would make himself appear look sad on purpose just so you could focus your attention on him and smoother him with love and kind touches.

Years later, this side of his personality never faded away, but never did your calming antics, nor did you stop always keeping an eye out on him during practice.

Bokuto expressively asked you to be the manager of the team, he said it was to “give you the best seats in the house to admire the way of the ace”, but truthfully, you were the fuel to the fire burning like an inexorable inferno within him.

You and Akaashi completed one another perfectly to find a balance for Bokuto, but at times, when Bokuto would find himself being overwhelmed by sad thoughts on the court, Akaashi would always suggest him to look at you, sitting on the benches.

It had become a ritual, each time Bokuto felt nervous or tortured by his own emotions, his shining golden orbs would find your frame, and a smile on your end was enough to make him feel at peace again. And that, ever since Bokuto started playing volleyball.

One day, during training, Bokuto had ententered a severe streak of shots, and each time the ball slammed the ground loudly in victory, his eyes darted on your form to study your reaction. He started doing anything to impress you since that day, even the silliest things like carry all the water bottles for you until (inevitably) tripping on the ground.

But striking for your attention and validation over and over again also meant that his emo modes were going to be even more intense too.

As his palm slapped the surface of the ball into a diagonal strike, his body shifted in a straight position, thus transforming the shot into a straight line.

The whines of protest were already leaving his lips, and soon enough his entire body language testified of how his emotions got the best of him: his shoulders were slumped, the tips of his hair faced down, his brows were weakly furrowed. It was a crisis situation.

“Agaaaashehhh! Can you get me Y/N, pleaaaase? I feel like I’m gonna melt and freeze at the same time.” Bokuto pleaded, his golden orbs were glossy under the gathering of the salty pearls in the corner of his eyes.

Without wasting more time, Akaashi jogged to you, and quickly explained the situation with a hint of worry in his tone which was unsual for him.

Your palm brushed Bokuto’s back in a soothing manner, only to find yourself prisoner of his embrace as his forelimbs found shelter on the small of your back, the tip of his nose nestled in the crook of your neck.

“Y/NNNN, I can’t even do diagonal shots anymore... It’s, like, my body goes for diagonal but I keep on hitting straight lines, I feel so dumb and useless...” His words were accompanied by whines of discontent, clearly indicating that this emo situation was more alarming than the others.

Your palm rubbed invisible shapes on his back in a soothing manner, humming at his confessions, “I can’t do anything right, can’t hit diagonal shots, can’t be a good captain, can’t even confess to you that I’ve loved you since day one.”

An angel passed.

“Kou, did— were you serious?”

“Does that mean you don’t like me? ‘S fine, I swear.” He now had his state focused on you, eyes as glossy as ever, and it took you all the strength in the world not to soothe his pain away by smothering him with kisses.

“I like you too, Kou, as big as the sky.” You offered him a genuine smile, your palms having moved to cup his palms while your thumbs were brushing the skin of his cheeks.

The tips of his hair immediately quirked up, and his signature grin throned once more amongst his facial features : “Wooooah! As big as the sky? That’s so big, sunshine! Guess what? I love you as big as the court!”

Another giggle found its way past your lips, soon quieted by the way your planted a peck on his cheek, “That’s a lot, Kou, more than I could’ve ever hoped for.”

And as Bokuto cradles you in his embraces, he excitedly stares at Akaashi who has a hint of a smile on his face, jumping a bit over the excitement.

“Kou, I know you’re happy and all but it’s hard to keep up with your hug if you’re jumping all over the place.”

“My bad, sunshine, you just make me so happy, ya know?”

──➤ Ushijima Wakatoshi sent you a letter, would you like to read it?

Now, I have already stated that Ushijima is not emotionless, rather he decides whether or not something or someone is worthy of the reveal of his emotions. And only three things fit on this list: Tendou, volleyball and yourself.

You actually met Ushijima as a child at an art discovery class for children. Ushijima had isolated himself from the rest of the children because the remarks of his mother were still ringing loud and clear in his head, but when you approached him and complimented how unique of an approach his left hand offered, he was over the moon (not that he showed it though.)

Much like Bokuto, Toshi is the kind of person to associate someone as his safe person, someone he can go to if needed, or at least feel their presence for reassurance. Needless to say, you are this person to Wakatoshi, always have been since the first doodles you’ve shared together.

In his case, Tendou actually pushed you to be the manager of the team, remarking that your presence would probably motivate Ushijima even more and make him more grounded if he had someone to hold on to during games.

To this day, you’ve always stayed late after practice and watched over Wakatoshi, spike after spike, serve after serve, until his fingers were bleeding and the moonshine outshone the neons of the gym.

You always carried medical tape with you, because you knew he was always bound to push behind his limits, only because he knew that you’d always be there for him, which happened to be true.

Now, now. Wakatoshi does know what feelings are, he knows how to recognize them kinesthetisically and tends to do mental notes of how people manifest their own emotions. Thus, he starts to notice the way his stomach creates knots whenever you’re in the same vicinity.

After training, Tendou finds him reading ads in the latest Jump edition, but Ushijima is quick to interrogate him : “Ah, an ad for plant medicine. Do you reckon this would help my stomach ache, Tendou?”

Tendou blinks once, then twice “Mhm, ‘depends on what kind of stomach ache we’re talking about here, Wakatoshi-kun.”

“It‘s odd. It’s not so much painful but it always happens when Y/N is near me.”

Tendou wipes an inexistent tear away in a dramatic manner, “Toshi-kun, you’re not sick at all, you’re in love.”

Since this sudden realization, Wakatoshi tends to avoid you because he believes that despite the sweet nature of this feeling, this stomach ache is taking a bit too much space to his liking.

He realizes soon, however, that the longer he waits, the worse it becomes.

After practice, and in an ever so natural manner, Ushijima grabs your wrist, and sends a glare to the rest of the team in order to silently tell them to leave the gym now that practice is over.

“Y/N, I’m sorry for taking some of your time so suddenly, I hope I did not startle you.” His grip on your wrist fades away slowly, and you offer him a hint of a smile.

“Don’t worry, Toshi, you’re all good.”

“I requested your presence because it seems I have developed feelings for you.”

A vivid blush colors the apples of your cheeks, your mouth is set agape for a few agonizing seconds: “You think or you know?”

“I don’t know.” He replies, and there’s a hint of disappointment in himself at the lack of retrospection on his end.

“Well, let me help you then.” Your palm is now enveloping his cheek in a loving hold, whilst your lips plant a lingering kiss on his opposite cheek, leaving Wakatoshi at loss for words.

“I, um, I’m positive now. I truly have feelings for you.”

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Ok, but is Kara still Supergirl and Andrea in the protection au? Honestly it would work either way, but there is definitely comedic value in Kara still being supergirl. Or maybe not supergirl. But she still has powers but doesn't really use them for heroing, which could also explain why Alex is FBI and not DEO. Like Lena is just a split second too slow, nothing that would have killed Kara, but something that should have hurt her, and Lena is confused as to how she is ok. Kara tries to bumble through something, but lena figures it out. Then they go on a funny out the bad guys scheme and Andrea regrets ever introducing them cause they are a pain in her ass.

I was kinda feeling a no power au, but if you wanna go with a Kara who's secretly super but never became Supergirl, I could dig it.

As for your scenario where Kara finally reveals herself to Lena, I could see it happening after they find themselves in an all out war with whoever is after Kara. It's not just an individual, its an organization, and they have endless resources and intends to throw assassins and gangs towards their Kara Danvers-sized problem until it goes away.

Anyway, they end up in a shoot out, and one by one Lena's entire team gets taken out until its only Lena and Kara left fighting for their lives in the middle of the warehouse district. Lena's running out of ammo when she turns and sees the barrel pointed at Kara. She shoves her ward out of the way and fires in the same moment the bullet clips her in the ribs.

"Lena!!" Kara cries, in horror and budding panic.

"Keep moving!" Lena barks, shoving back to her feet, clamping one hand against her side. She pushes Kara towards an empty building and follows her inside. There, they a moment to breathe, and Kara immediately tries to tend to Lena's wound.

"Oh my god, oh my god," she mutters, hands fluttering as they hesitate in her panic. "Lena, I--"

"I'm good," Lena says. As though to prove it, she takes her hand away from her side long enough to check the chamber of her pistol. "Damn it."

"Lena, I am so so sorry. I should never have insisted we come here--"

Lena shakes her head, leaning against a crate in exhaustion. "No, Kara. I'm the one who has to apologize."

"W-what do you mean?"

"I agreed to let you come here because no one knew you'd be coming."

Kara's eyes widen. "But that would mean..."

"Someone's been compromised." Lena smacks her head back agaist the crate. "Damn it."

Quickly running through the interactions she's had with Lena's people over the past few months, no one strikes Kara as a likely culprit. She'd found that Lena inspired a particular brand of loyalty, and an enthusiasm for the work they did no matter how dangerous it was.  Well, except for....

"Thompson."

Lena meets her eye briefly. "Probably. Bastard can talk shit about anything and anybody but the moment a woman raises his voice at him he goes completely ape--"

"Now, now, sis, you know he has an ego."

Both women start at the sound of the new voice. Lena instantly places herself between Kara and the intruder, empty gun lifting in reflex-- only to lower again when she recognizes her older brother Lex.

"Lex? What are you--?"

"And you can't blame him-- he was only following orders."

Lena's features harden the moment the pieces click together. The gun comes back up.

"How much did they pay you?"

Lex waves the question away. "It wasn't about the money. Well, not entirely anyway. They simply provided a simple solution for my problem, and in return I was happy to provide one for theirs."

"What kind of problem was it? Drugs? Gambling?"

"You."

Kara watches the exchange with bated breath. Without having met Lex before, she knows next to nothing about him, but the fact that Lena's treating him as a threat tells her that he isn't to be taken lightly. And if he was in here, serving as the pinnacle of this blood-soaked dash, then who knew how many more goons were waiting outside, just waiting for the signal to storm the building?

Shaking, Kara reaches for Lena. She places her hand gently between the woman's shoulder blades, giving her enough room to move, but staying close enough that Lena would know where she was.

All the while, blood drips from the wound in Lena's side, plicking against the concrete floor.

"I've heard the same rumors you have, ace. Our father is sick, and looking to retire. He needs someone to hand the reins to, and lately, he's been looking at you."

"You rather kill innocent people than work under me?"

"It's my company, ace," Lex reminds her. His voice takes on a dangerous edge. "Always has been."

Lena doesn't blink. She glares at her brother, turning to keep the gun trained on him as he slowly circles them.

"So what now?"

"Now," Lex explains, "either you die in the course of protecting your charge, or you fail to protect a high profile client. Either way, you're out of the running, and dear old dad looks to the rightful heir."

He lifts his gun and points it at Kara. He shrugs.

"You choose."

The gun fires, loud enough to set Kara's ears to ringing. Time seems to slow. Lena's back presses against Kara's hand, as Lena throws her arms wide, making herself as big as possible. Then she crumples, collapsing in a heap when the bullet sinks into her chest in a bloom of red mist.

The next time Lex lifts his gun at Kara, she's no longer there. In the moment it takes him to register the open air she used to occupy, Kara surges across the room and cocks him cold. He goes down hard, a fall made all the harder when Kara kicks him into the far wall of the warehouse.

She hasn't used her strength in years. Kara has been so careful with it, she's almost forgotten that she has it. But the sight of Lena bleeding on the ground brings it surging back. She's back to Lena's side in a flash.

"Lena..."

"Kara." Lena coughs, and blood coats her chin. "Go," she gurgles. "I'll only... slow you down. You have to run."

Kara cradles her in her arms, shaking her head no as tears pour down her cheeks. "No. Not without you."

"Go..."

Lena's whisper falls in the din of the doors being breached. Kara takes a moment to register the sight of armed humans pouring into the warehouse before she's making up her mind.

Gathering Lena in her arms, Kara holds her close. She can hear her heartbeat quickening, the pulses growing weaker in their flutter. She doesn't have long.

Kara will only have one chance.

As the goons swarm towards them, Kara gets her legs beneath. In a single deep breath, she calls on all the parts of herself she's purposely let go. She summons her strength, and the memory of nights spent with Alex, coasting low over the ocean.

On the exhale, she surges upwards, lifting off the pavement and crashing through corrugated metal roof. She wobbles slightly, pitching perilously under the unfamiliar dynamics of flight, but then she steadies, calms.

Then, with her heart in her throat, she aims towards the nearest hospital, and flies.

[pen-observing]

My Only One iv - final

Diavolo and you have been together for a century. While time flies, the last decade has not been kind to either of you. He is about to become the King and while you have subjected yourself to transformations, just to live with your beloved, the pressure is unending. You live your life publicly. It is no luxury. Not having an heir when 100 years have passed tears you apart- just as much as it divides those that you inevitably rule. A solution comes like the last ray of hope. Go to an enchanted fortress used for fixes of the worst kind. Subject yourself to even more hexes to have the possibility of producing an heir. It’s just for a year. A short time for those immortal. A long time for those in a complex relationship, especially when for the sake of efficiency, letters are the only means of communication you are allowed to have with outsiders.

Warnings: none

i / ii / iii / _   

To say that your feet felt lighter and the frozen ground finally melted after the letter from the brothers would be an understatement.

Hope. Hope in its trues form finally existed for you again. Too many years did hope have the same colour as Diavolo’s eyes. You almost forgot other potent sources of such a feeling. My dear, you forgot that hope was held within.

As your sanity finally made peace with your inner being; everything else started to fall into place. Diavolo’s paragraphs upon paragraphs; drawing a lie within a dream still stung; but, you did not go crazy. Power was flowing back to you.  

The letters from the brothers varied on topics decided by the hand that wrote them. Admittedly, based on the handwriting, some were easier to read than others. But their meaning; their essence; their love was never to be questioned.

Karasu was proud with the step-by-step recovery you were making. Those watchful eyes were full of kindness and wonder while you grew into a cheerful state. Well, as cheerful as the circumstances would allow.

The room wasn’t messy anymore. Your treatment was moving along smoothly. The interest about people in charge of you grew. They respected, while still being able to doubt, the genuine curiosity held from a future Ruler. They did not tell you everything but a difference between privacy and secrecy was established. Based on such occasions you managed to find out that one of the witches dedicated her whole life to this. She could never, ever, have kids because of a pact. However, seeing others live out that oh so feeble dream of hers; would mean happiness.

It was astounding that a pure motive existed within these walls. You marvelled at it. And life began to marvel at you.  

Month nine marked the witch leaping at you with such joy in the privacy of one of the examination rooms. She held your arms tightly. She delivered the news with a strong voice. “You, you! Your treatment exceeded every expectation they set! You can have children now! You can bear a child. You can give birth to Devildom’s future!”

The news shocked you. Now? Right now? This was as sudden as time itself.   What does this mean when you are unsure about the man who swore to be the best father? He also swore to be a true lover; look how that turned out.

But there was no way you could allow yourself to break in front of this person. There was no way your humanity would disrespect the witch’s joy for you; the life long dedication.

You gently held her hands with a genuine smile prompted by her honest hope. You thanked her from the bottom of your heart; even if it was still broken.

That interaction meant that the time of your solitude in this fortress was at its end. It meant you had to return to the frightening outside world. But how?  

The end that once was sure to spark joy was no more. Confusion was torturing you now; unrelenting. 

What now?

A long conversation with Karasu followed where you weighted every option of return. Should you notify Diavolo? What will you do once you see him again? Could you ever find a small corner of your heart that would ensure forgiveness upon the man you loved more than any other?  

Karasu knew you. Karasu patiently listened and answered all questions.  

It was decided that as a person who makes memories out of feelings; as an impulsive human who observes and makes decisions based on natural states- Diavolo would not be notified of your return.

You had to see him in his true state: unprepared, surprised; to realise if the relationship could be mended.  

The brothers however, will know. You are not ashamed to admit that you asked them a favour - making necessary preparations. Evoking the pact to make sure secrecy was upheld like a virtue. They didn’t mind. They knew you trusted them and this was just to ensure Lucifer’s silence to the man that betrayed you.

And in uncertainty, while lacking bravery; you set out. Back to the castle. Back home.

But the ride back was less pleasant than the experiments. Countless scenarios plagued your mind. Your sanity was seemingly throwing different conversations your way. 

Menacing. Dramatic. Sad.

Then suddenly in a leap of love- it hit you with grandiose romantic gestures of apology. Honey words that felt true.  

What will Diavolo do when you meet again? Everything depended on that.

Could it be that he even betrayed those daydreams of yours? Stepping outside, in front of the gate, clearly showed that fate would not answer your questions soon enough. 

Time, bewildering time, my dear.

Diavolo did not welcome you- Barbatos did. How expected of him to be so calm by your sudden return. His demeanour always amazed you. Even while expressing his surprise upon such a turn of events he remained eloquent. Almost idyllic.     

The man controlled time, he toyed with it in an intricate dance; why were you so surprised? Was it because in those daydreams, in those silly expectations of yours; Diavolo was the only man you wondered about? Where was he right now?

Barbatos led you inside the tea room. Was he toying with you now as well?  

This room. This intricately decorated room was always your favourite inside a castle which felt enormous; never ending. Ceaseless. The word home could have been this room by itself. Why?  It was always warm. Cozy.  It was where you would spend time while Diavolo was relentlessly busy.  It was where you would relentlessly force him to take breaks.

Most of all, It was where the two of you existed outside of pressure. It was where the two of you kissed for the first time. Countless nights of love and pleasure happened right here.

Barbatos was definitely toying with you. If he did not become a close friend over all of these years you would have cursed him out.

He brought a sweet aroma in your favourite tea cup.   Yup. He set it down with a gentle smile. You definitely would have cursed him out for using gold-lined tea cups Diavolo gifted you.

Your eyes stayed on his figure while, unable to resist, the cup found way into your hand. There was no need to ask Barbatos anything. He remained a perfect butler.

“My Lord will be here momentarily. If we were notified of your return, we would have cleared his schedule.”

A slip up.  Barbatos made a mistake. Unfathomable.

His words were serene once again. Just like when you departed. The surface of the water is serene, what goes on below? What did his seemingly simple words hide?

Did he say it on purpose? Did he do so out of care for you?  

“Barbatos.”  

You have to be brave now more than ever my dear. Barbatos gave it away in case you were not aware. How kind of him.

“Yes? Is there something not to your liking?” “I noticed how you referred to Diavolo as my Lord, not our. This had changed since I left.”

Silence. Continue to be brave.

“I know Barbatos. I know that his hands have touched someone else. I know that he slept with them in our bed.”

Your voice was flat. Barbatos stayed silent out of respect for you. In reality, his masqueraded words meant much more. How could Barbatos, utterly loyal, admit that he himself considered Diavolo weak? His Lord was weak for the temptations. He could never say, but you knew.  

In that moment, rushed footsteps echoing outside in the hallway reached you. The door sprung open swiftly. In such speed and urgency unseen before. Diavolo stood there. In disbelief. Marvelling at your sudden return in ardent admiration.

He stood there, breathless from running to see you.  For months now this tea room was devoid of your presence. For months now he longed for your return. Oh how Diavolo yearned to open this door and see your form blessing it.

And here you were. Magnificent. Radiant.

Barbatos had to interrupt this moment because peace could not exist after what was spoken. He turned towards the door, walking out. His lips parted open for a whisper to Diavolo. “They know everything.”  He gracefully exited. Diavolo stood still, unable to meet your gaze.

He deserves this shame.

You sat there looking at him. He was breathless, bewitching. ...But was it because of excitement for you? His hair was messy, his tie was loose.

Was this the work of the other woman? His whore? When was the last time her fingers touched him so intimately?

How pitiful was it to glance up at him like this.

My dear, why do you call the woman a whore? Diavolo was the strongest man of them all. He was no easy target. Why do you make it sound like she took him? He gave himself away. He probably seduced her.

You stood up. Smiled at the man undeserving of kindness. He saw it. He saw it and yet his eyes still avoided yours. 

Guilt. For the first time,perhaps ever in his life, Diavolo was hesitant.   Approaching you like this was a confession of his betrayal.

He stayed silent as your hands gently fixed his tie that someone else tugged on not too long ago. “This is no way to present yourself. Do you wish for them to say the future King grew messy?”

How ironic was this rhetorical question phrased just like the one on the day you left? How much of a paradox was this position identical to the way you two said goodbye in love?

Diavolo still loved you.  

That much you knew when his hand grabbed yours in a desperate attempt to keep you close. To keep the magnificent presence within this room. His serious gaze was solely focused on you. If only you were the sole partner.

His deep voice, filled with regret, still charmed. “One word from you and she will be banished forever. I adore you. I was helpless without you around. That is what made me so weak to fall into this predicament. I love you. You know that.”

His fingers intertwined with yours. A pathetic attempt. How dare he cite your absence as his justification?! There is a clear difference between that justified and that which was just an excuse.  

If you had to say anything to get the other woman out of the castle it was already pointless to try and rectify this broken trust; broken love; between the two of you.

Good observation my dear, the other woman became pregnant while you were still receiving treatment. She gave him something you sacrificed every part of yourself for.

“Diavolo...” Your soft voice trailing off already told him the conclusion he was dreading. Begging to avoid. He knew of your humanity; he knew how pitiful he was. Diavolo, despite everything, still was enough of a man; enough of a lover, to know he had to respect your decision.

Your hand slipped from his hold. He remained still. Like a statue of a fallen hero.

“Diavolo, huh?”, a deep sigh. How long had he not heard you call his name? Was this the tone he must remember the end by? He cannot have that. His heart cannot have that. 

“Beloved, please. Just once more. It would be a tragedy to part like this. Have you really stopped loving me?”

You knew what he was asking for. How kind of you to fulfil his wish; gently fixing a few strands of his hair, while love still lingered in your eyes.  My dear, this is almost cruel from you.

With those eyes you looked into his. Gave him a sad smile and graced him, graced his wish, in a soft voice.

“My only one, my love belongs to those that are faithful.”

(I hope you have enjoyed reading it until now. I wonder how you feel and if you like it. Feel free to talk to me and ask me questions if you have any. Your feedback is treasured. I promise you. Posting this at 1:34am tho has me feeling a bit loopy. Is loopy a word? Unsure. However from the bottom of my heart- thank you for reading until now.)