#boy i didn't know you were such a glutton

[harmonysanreads]

I finally had a dream about the Chrysos Heirs and in it, Mydei was swarmed by women, Phainon was gobbling down teganites in the middle of the baths and Anaxa was beefing with XIPE for some reason. At one point Xipe got angry and started chasing everyone and the dream ended 😭 Well at least, I got to hug Aglaea and she gave me headpats 😌

[rini-yaki]

My Saja Boys Backstory Headcanons

ꕥ I just made this to know what I want/reference whenever I write deeper pieces with them :)

a lot of you guys seem to like my headcanons on their insecurities so if there is something you want specifically, don't be scared to drop a req!

MASTERLIST

💎 Baby (Hyuk)

A son of a king, he was an heir

And he let that title get to his head, he became lazy, gluttonous, greedy,

he never had any skills that were useful other than being able to write and read very quickly (hence why he can rap)

Once he was of age to take the throne, he had no skills to show that he was fit to be the next king

so he's disloyal, a liar, a cheater, a briber, committed every crime under the sun to improve his image

The day of his coronation, someone ambushed his kingdom and all of his servants and family died- except for him.

Baby is on the streets, known to be the son of the fallen king, and at one point, people were CLAMORING to hire him

then they realized he has no skill whatsoever and he basically was poor for years

Made a deal with Gwi-Ma to be useful- never specified in what way, so he became useful to a new king- Gwi-Ma

he was never that bright, was he?

❤️‍🔥 Romance (Seo-Jun)

A son of a peasant woman who sold him off from a young age to the royal court

*inspired a bit by MaoMao's jabs at Jinshi* he became an entertainer for concubines and even the royal family, he was often used and treated like a popular giaseng/courtesan- because at its core, that's what he was

and because of how he was treated, he knew how to charm and seduce people into getting what he wanted- he was self absorbed in himself because of all of the attention he got from people simply because he was: pretty, handsome, attractive, youthful..

seo-jun's sense of entertainment is so deranged he becomes a player to the lower ranking maids, breaking hearts in his free time

he seduces politicians/high ranking men to silence any disagreements that didn't please the royal family- basically use his body to appease others

he's so sensitive about his appearance that he made a wish to gwi-ma in his prime: to make him youthful and beautiful for all of eternity

Of course Gwi-Ma granted his wish.. but at what cost?

☔️ Mystery (Seung)

his parents dropped him off in a forest, too poor to feed another mouth

he's raised by nature, animals raised him like he was their own offspring- raised him until he was old enough to speak- but even then it was pretty minimal

from this experience, Seung always had a love and respect for the environment and mother nature in her entirety

Seung found a village and lived their his pre-teen to teen life, seen as a strong hardworker, he'd always spare some money to buy food for the very animals that raised him- never abandoned them

made good money, better than some frail adults in the area... some got jealous

so rumors spread- a grown ass man spread rumors about a seventeen year old, they say Seung was a beastly child, that he wasn't human and was plotting that the villagers would become the animal's food, and that's why he wouldn't let anyone make them livestock, not even for the highest price

one fateful day, the villagers start a forest fire on Seung's birthday... burned his hut down, then the forest

ever since then, Seun despised humans and their nature

and from the fire- including the deaths of all his animal friends- his face was burned too

made a deal with Gwi-Ma to turn all the humans into animals so he could make them into livestock.

Gwi-Ma said yes, and also fixes his face but that just means that his demon patterns take up the space where his burnt injuries once were

🪓 Abby (Kwang)

he was the second son to a family, his eldest brother was the miracle baby- being stronger than their own father to be able to cut down trees to sell as charcoal

Kwang always admired his brother for being so strong and aspired to be like him one day,

eventually, his brother is scouted into the army and Kwang has to man-up, and as he grows older, he trains so much and gets so strong his father says he might even be stronger than his brother

that really boosts his ego so he decides to make enough money for his parents then leaves to go enlist in the army

he's HUMBLEDDDDD IN THE ARMY, he's shot down so many times- especially by his seniors, one of them specifically- he hated that officer especially

he was always pushed around for being a "weak farmer's boy"

one day, there is a battle, in the same region where he and his parents lived... and Kwang is desperate to see them alive, when he sees their grave- he swears for no mercy for the commander who lead this attack- which was one of his seniors...

his hatred for the army grows, and when he's called in by one of the commander- one of the ones who lead the attack that resulted in his parent's deaths

he kills his commander that night, and his dying breath, the commander reveals two things: that he IS Kwang's older brother, and that he couldn't do anything to stop the attack because it was already decided by the generals

Kwang is arrested

that day, Kwang wishes to NEVER be like his weak older brother who was the reason why their parents are dead, who can't even step up to his beliefs.

Gwi-Ma grants his wish, but that means he really is nothing like his brother

a lot of you guys seem to like my headcanons on their insecurities so if there is something you want specifically, don't be scared to drop a req, i can do this easier!

some of you guys give these guys such sad backstories but make them the obvious victim, and i find that boring (again) so i mixed it in with some evilness hehe

you don't have to like mine, but let me know how you like my headcanons 🦉

[macabre-mangled]

submissive bellamy…….save me submissive bellamy………….

Cece would you pretty please write a bellamy x grounder!reader fic where reader is part of the group Indra brings to Camp Jaha? Between S2 and S3. Bell and reader are bitchy to each other and when Bellamy challenges them, they put him in his place 🙂‍↕️

On Your Knees

Bellamy Blake x Grounder!Reader

A/N: Yesss yesss yess! also i have a feeling ik who sent this hehe

Warnings: Sub!Bellamy, canon typical violence, penetration, riding, oral (reader recieving), begging, degrading, name calling

Summary: Bellamy finds himself caring for someone he deemed the enemy. And he doesnt know what to do about it besides mouthing off. What happens when he bites off more than he can chew?

Trigedasleng used: Joka-fucker

Bellamy Blake was absolutely a dick. An utter jackass. And he knew this. Everyone knew this. With everything happening at Arkadia no one really blamed him. Well almost no one. The grounders that Indra brought would definitely disagree. So why did he find himself drawn to you; a grounder that hated his guts. Maybe it was because you were close in age or maybe it was because you were considered objectively attractive. Or maybe it was becuase you challenged him. Yeah, probably that.

Bellamy didnt know why, but he was absolutely in love with pushing your buttons. Actually thats a lie. He knew exactly why. But he would never admit it. He loved bring degraded. Maybe it was his undelrying issues. But he couldnt help but get a little semi anytime you called him an idiot in Trigedasleng.

Which is why he decided to take it up a notch. Like the glutton for punishment he is. Today he pushed you over the edge.

"You gonna kill a bunch of us sky people today or something?"

He had meant it casually, but the look it warranted from you was something he had never expected. And god did he love it. This is what got him hard.

"You should watch your mouth, joka."

"Oh yeah? What are you gonna do about it?"

In hindsight he should have expected this. In fact he wanted it. Some part of him craving the punishment. So as you dragged him into your quarters he didn't protest. Not even when you pushed him onto the ground in front of you. Landing him on his knees.

"You thought i wouldnt punish you? Did you think i didnt notice the little hard-ons you got?"

Shit. You had him there. He doesnt even bother denying it. He just nods. Accepting his fate. His eyes widened comically large as you started undressing. Leaving yourself naked in front of him.

"You have to tell me you want this or I wont continue."

"Please, I want you so bad..."

You smirk, nodding. Watching as he strips out of his clothing. He was certainly eager. Waiting for your next instructions. Big brown eyes wide and reminds you of a deer. So as you strip slowly, his eyes follow you. Then you pull his face into your awaiting crotch. He immediately got to work. Mouth taking you with precision and experience. Tongue swirling and finding all the spots that make you scream and moan. All of this was for your pleasure. He ate at you like he hadn’t eaten in days and you were his oasis in the desert. His hips were grinding down, seeking friction as he continued his ministrations. You notice this and pull his face away. A string of saliva connects him to you. And he whines. He fucking whines.

“You couldn’t wait for me to ride you, could you? Naughty boy.”

Your words cause him to freeze before he starts begging.

“No please, I’ll stop. I’ll be such a good boy please…”

He almost slurs, his voice desperate. And you smirk before pushing him down. Climbing on top of him. Straddling his hips. He whimpers softly like you kicked him until you sink down onto him. His breath hitches and he moans. Whining and whimpering as you start moving your hips. His size was immense. His tip hitting every spot that has you reeling. You moan along with him.

“God…please don’t stop.”

“I won’t…you’re being such a good boy.”

It isn’t long before he cums. The buildup from before hitting him hard as he lets out the most pathetic high pitched whine. His body trembles in the aftershock. The feeling sends you over the edge too.

“See? Much better use of your mouth.”

[tinolqa]

god I haven't mentioned it enough here. Myths of the Realm is my enemy. easily my least favorite 24-man- or rather it's my least favorite raid series of either type.

probably made worse by pandaemonium being genuinely very good? the contrast was stark.

weak answer to the question of the twelve's nature, very unambitious and mediocre visual designs that were largely too married to visual fidelity to boring statues and card designs. some real disney's hercules shit. there were some innovative or appealing elements here and there: nald'thal was genuinely great visually and conceptually, I actually respect the concept of making menphina a magical girl instead of a generically hotsexy love goddess, byregot's halo of nails, uh... the models for thalaos and perykos looked good? but overall they were a bunch of very boring idealized humans.

and my god eulogia is the ugliest thing. eulogia might actually be the most hideous execution of a concept in the game yet, you might as well just clip all of the models of the twelve into each other and play their animations at once and get the same effect. zero elegance, zero thoughtful design. it's actually shocking to see in a game where we got perfect omega as a raid boss once upon a time. even eden's promise, while superficially a hot mess, is a hot mess because it pays homage to extant depictions of artemis! art history is why it looks like that! eulogia looks like the artists were asked to recreate knife dad from monster factory using ffxiv assets.

and you might ask, well, are the mechanics of the fights better than the boss designs? absolutely not. week one aglaia was a little fun, because there being a chance of failure to people not knowing the trick of the meteors in the rhalgr fight or panicking during the nald'thal scales instead of just deliberately failing the mechanic to waste everyone's time. gear creep destroyed any chance of interacting with most of the fun bits of aglaia, and they didn't repeat that "mistake" in the other two, which were boring and easy from the jump. just an absolute void of challenge or chaos. why even bother putting mechanics into your raid at that point, apparently that's only for savage.

and the rewards... boy I hope you like ugly yellow-gold saint seiya armor and generic draping faux-hellenistic robes and vague suggestions of togas. I hope you fucking gluttons for endless less-problematic rehashes of ancient greek mythology like gaudy costume jewelry and sandals and meaningless neoclassical flourishes. did you want gear that might look like something your character would wear in a city they've visited or that has a connection to a historical aesthetic? I guess if you make believe you can stretch a tenuous bond from this tacky armor to the uniform robes and masks of the ancients. ostensibly. since we all know the ancients didn't have a societal taboo about ornamentation or making your clothes individualized or anything.

so what did we achieve? did we learn anything? turns out the twelve were real all along, but also powerless except in the specific context of having flashy anime duels with the warrior of light. it's VERY important that we say they aren't primals, because primals are only summoned by primitive subhumans like the ixal and the garleans. but we do need you to fight them to return their aether to the star because... they're definitely not primals! no. not primals. primals are fake gods, and the twelve are *aetheric constructs* based on *real people* made by *hydaelyn*, which means they're good and Not Primals. the mechanic by which they visually reflect the beliefs of their followers? definitely not the same as the one that does that for primals. their nebulous dependence on the faith of eorzeans? totally unrelated to primals, because it's apparently important for the ego of the players that *their* god is real and not fake, which makes them ontologically good and righteous.

and it's definitely satisfying to find out that the goddess whose name gave weight and gravity to the reveal of the warrior of light's past incarnation and their name... is called that because she was a failed candidate for that role? she's a consolation prize sun goddess?

for that matter it's definitely satisfying to find out that the twelve are just recreations of venat's boring ancient friends, who are largely nameless and have no significance to you or your interaction with the past aside from a mediocre sidequest. oh it's so thrilling to know that the god of crafting used to be hytholdaeus's coworker. this would mean so much to me if he had any role in the setting beyond a skill name and a rock sitting in an overworld zone.

admittedly it would also suck for the reveal to be "actually eorzea's gods did create the world and are all-powerful, boy it sure is silly that those delusional foreigners are out here worshipping kami and manusya and mrga and primals which are all FAKE, as opposed to us (non-beastman) eorzeans who have the literal mandate of heaven"

but surely there's a more elegant solution (ambiguity, leaving questions instead of a glut of answers, not making this raid series at all). was this really the best they could come up with?

[worldofkuro]

Painted Smile

Painted Smile VIII

<- Previous Chapter | Next Chapter ->

Pairing: Alastor x Female! Reader

Summary: You couldn't wait to meet new friends. What you didn't expect was this smiling little boy, only one year older than you, that would take such a big place in your life.

Notes: Well, well, well. Here another chapter for you my dears ! I hope you'll enjoy it! Reader and Alastor are getting closer and closer it's adorable...For now.

You went back inside with Alastor, his jacket still draped over your shoulder. Alice waved at you before staring at Alastor then at you, with a big smile. What? You sat back down on your chair and listened to the conversation which was now about the war. You didn't really want to talk about that for Christmas but..

You felt Alice nudged you, making you look at her confused, she was observing you with a teasing expression. You raised your eyebrows, before leaning toward her, she immediately whispered in your ear as you took a sip of water.

“ Your lipstick is smudged.”

She leaned back with an amused grin and pointed discreetly toward Alastor. You followed the direction she pointed and almost choked on your water. Alastor had lipstick on his lips ! You blushed furiously, did somebody else notice it ? You looked at everyone  around the table but they were way too focused on the conservation, even Alastor was talking with them. You hide your lips behind a napkin , staring at Alice with wide eyes. 

She seemed delighted ; hiding her smile behind her gloved hands. Should you go to the bathroom, to wash up? But it wouldn’t clean Alastor’s lips. You touched Alastor’s tights with your palm, which made him take your hand in his, his gaze turning toward you. You tried to point to his lips but he only smiled wider before tilting his head toward you. You leaned toward him and opened your mouth but he cut you off.

“ You already want another one?”

You threw yourself back against your chair as Alastor was laughing, throwing his head back. Everyone stopped talking and looked at the both of you, confused and curious. You took your glass, hiding your face behind it as they tried to coat you to tell them what had happened. It was Alastor who spoke first.

“ I just reminded my dearest friend that being gluttonous was bad,” he said with a cunning smile. Oh, he looked so full of himself ! You wanted him to be flustered as you were! “ You might get addicted!”

“ Unlike you, I don't have food all over my mouth.” You closed one eye, staring at him with the other as you drank from your glass. Take that Alastor! And please read between the lines… “ and as you know my dear Alastor, since our younger age, you always were the glutton one.” you smirked as you remembered how he would eat so much for the tiny body he used to have.

Alastor just smiled with a teasing expression. You stuck discreetly your tongue at him as the guests were laughing with Alastor, saying how a grown man like him needed to eat so he shouldn’t feel bad for eating so much. You’ve never seen Alastor naked but you knew that he was strong. He could easily throw you on his shoulder when he wanted to do something you didn’t want.

“ You know that when I like something, I can’t help but crave more until there is nothing left for others to share.”

You almost spat the water on the table, your eyes wide open. Was he still talking about food ? You felt your body suddenly getting warmer. You didn’t understand why a sentence like this could make you react like this.

“ Ooh Alastor, you have such a way with words. What else can that mouth do?” said a lady, who seemed to have drunk more alcohol than water. You blushed as she leaned toward Alastor making her chest bigger with her arms. What was she doing ? You almost hid your face, feeling so embarrassed but you wanted to see Alastor’s reaction. Did he like this kind of woman?

“ It bites.” He said with a dangerous smile. You could see your lipstick on his lips, making it seemed like it was blood. You didn’t know why you liked it. You shook your head, what were you thinking? A bloody Alastor wasn’t attractive ! The sweet juices must have been alcohol for you to think such a thing about your friend. You finished your glass, you were getting tired now, and frankly you wanted to go home. You were feeling cold even with Alastor’s blazer on your shoulder. You ignored the lady’s giggles as you stood up, Alastor following soon after you.

“ Well, I think we are ready to go back home.” you smiled at Alice and John who seemed sad that you were already leaving. You hugged Alice as you explained that your feet were killing you, you danced all night and you weren’t used to those kinds of heels. Alastor shook hands with some people and you went toward a butler who gave your coat back.

You gave back his blazer to Alastor and then you left the mansion which was still buzzing with energy and music. You looked at the sky and sighed. Come on, only 35 minutes and you would be able to throw off your shoes. You could almost feel your legs trembling because of the pain.

“ Hold onto me.”

You squealed as Alastor crouched before you and lifted you in his arms, just like a bride. He began to walk. You were impressed, he had danced even more than you and yet he could carry you without breaking a sweat. You touched his lips with your cold fingers, making him look at you.

“ You know you have lipstick on your lips?”

“ Well, yes.” You stared at him, eyes wide opened. What did he say? He knew? How? “ Dear, when you kissed me I could see that your lipstick wasn’t as clean as before. And with Alice’s reaction, it just confirmed my thoughts.” he smiled teasingly at you but his eyes were full with warmth. 

“ But… Why did you not wipe it?”

He kept walking in silence for a moment, even making you believe that he wouldn’t answer you. Sometimes Alastor would just stare at you and not answer your question and you knew that it meant that he wasn’t ready to share what he thought, so you would just give up and talk about something else. You sighed in relief as you saw your home. Finally.

“ I wanted to feel you a little longer.”

You looked at him as he put you on the stairs in front of the door. You tilted your head, he wanted to feel you a little longer..? You took his hand with yours and smiled softly at him, you knew from his expression that he didn’t want to have that conversation right now, even with his usual smile. You quietly opened the door and realized that nobody was up, you could see bottles of wine on the living room’s table but your mothers were nowhere to be seen. You took off your shoes and almost moaned in bliss. Finally…

You went upstairs and took a peek inside your mother’s bedroom and smiled. Marie and your mother were both asleep on your parent’s bed, you could feel Alastor leaning his chest against your back as he stared at his mother. You guessed he wanted to be sure she was okay.

You went into your bedroom and fell on your bed, you just wanted to sleep..

“ Nu-uh miss, you are going to wash your face and take off your clothes.” you felt Alastor’s hands on your waist as he dragged you toward the bathroom. You groaned, you were so tired… You could wash up tomorrow.. He made you sit on the bathtub’s edge and he kneeled before you. He took a tissue and began to take off your makeup, beginning with your eyes, forcing you to close them. 

“ Alastooor…” you moaned, trying to to coat him in letting you go. “ I just want to sleep…” 

“ And I want you to go to bed clean, so be quiet and let me work.” he said as he wiped your lips. You nodded while opening your eyes, the faster it was done, the faster you could go to bed. “ Good girl.” he smirked at you with a mocking glint in his eyes.

You bit his finger, the one which was still wiping your mouth. You stared at him, trying to look dangerous. You… didn’t like when he was saying “good girl” in that tone, like you were someone he could easily manipulate, someone that wasn’t special to him. He looked calmly at his finger then at your eyes. You didn't know what he was thinking and it was killing you. Yes, you could read him easier than most people but Alastor stayed a mystery for you sometimes… Like right now.

He leaned toward you, making you lean back, keeping his finger between your teeth, until your back was at the bottom of the bathtub. He climbed above you, his eyes never leaving yours.

“ I recall being the one who said that I bite…” he looked at you calmly as you stared at him with angry eyes. You smirked, keeping his finger against your teeth, you always loved  when you succeeded in  surprising him. It was such a thrill.. What could you do now.. Oh! You let his finger go and smiled sweetly at him.

“ You wanted me to be clean, right?” He titled his head before you quickly opened the water. You hid underneath his body as the water fell upon his body. You laughed as you saw his face. His eyes were wide open and his smile looked like a grimace, but he was staring at you. He quickly turned off the water and fell on you, his face near your neck. “ Ouch! Alastor, you’re heavy!” 

You felt his arms holding you against him, squeezing you so hard that you could feel your chest being crushed against his torso. He was getting your dress wet now! You tried to run away but you couldn't move from his hold and you could feel his smile on his lips against your neck. You sighed, giving up. You took a strand of wet hair, it was beginning to be curly. You smiled, you liked his curly hair, it was cute! 

“ I think it’s past midnight , so Merry Christmas.”

“ Merry Christmas, Alastor.” you closed your eyes as you hugged him as hard as he was squeezing you. You felt him gasped against your skin, tickling you. You stayed like this for a moment before you were feeling really cold. Alastor helped you get out of the bathtub, you looked at yourself in the mirror. You were clean! You went into the bathroom and looked at the dress. How were you supposed to take it off without tearing it? Last time, Alice was the one to help you take it off.

“ Alastor, can you help me with my dress?”

“ Of course dear” he approached you and dragged the zip down. You thanked him but didn’t move when you felt his gaze on your back. You turned your head toward him with a curious expression. He was looking at your back with a straining smile. “ I hope nobody will ever backstab you… Can I..?” he whispered as he held his hand toward your back. You nodded and closed your eyes when you felt his other hand covered your eyes. For years, you kept this game you had created, hiding your eyes and telling a secret.. And Alastor loved using this game against you.

 You felt the tips of his finger caress your naked back. You shivered, you wondered why? Were you cold? His touch was timid, but when you took a step back to get closer to him you felt his palm against your body. He moved his hand from your spine until he back of your hair. You tilted your head back. You didn’t really know what was happening.. The moment was a little scary, but because it was Alastor, you were feeling safe. He moved your hair from your back, sliding it on your shoulder.

“ Keep your eyes closed…” he took his hand from your eyes and then you felt both of his hands on your back, touching your hot skin. 

God…

You sighed as he slid his nails against your epidermis. It felt like he was tracing lines. Was he writing something ?

“ Alastor..” you whispered and he hummed in response. “ Can I… Can I do the same..?” you felt him flinching and you bit your lips. Were you too greedy? Did you break the moment you were having? You knew that Alastor was being vulnerable right now… You knew he had problems with others' touch. Something you had to learn even if it did hurt you when you were younger. 

“ If you keep your eyes closed.”

You gasped as his finger dipped softly into your skin.? He said yes? He said yes, he said yes, he said yes. 

He took his hand off your back, which you were already missing, and you heard him take off his clothes. You kept your eyes closed, you would never betray his trust. Never. Youknew it was another step in your friendship.. Was it a friendship… Was Alastor just a friend? …

Did you want Alastor to stay as a friend? 

“ I will be sitting down, my back toward you.”

You felt his hand take yours and bring it toward him. You didn’t want to touch his skin right now, you could feel his hand shake a little. You put your hand on his curly hair and stroke it. You wouldn’t touch him unless he was relaxed.

“ Tell me if you want me to stop. Tap me somewhere on my body.”

He didn’t answer but you could feel him squeeze your hands. You breathed and began to trail your hand near his shoulder. You caressed them softly, from the tips of your finger, just like Alastor did.

Just like he did, you would make him feel safe.

You slid the tips of your finger on his back and you felt him tensed. You stopped, waiting for him to tell you it was too much. He didn’t speak and you waited for his body to relax once more before touching once again his back. You began to put more pressure on your touch, your fingers were caressing his hot skin. Was he sweating ?

“ You are beautiful, Alastor.”

“ You say that because you keep your eyes closed when you are with me.”

“ Then, let me open them.”

“...No, not yet.”

“ Alright.” you smiled a little, you didn’t want him to feel like you were upset. Right now, he was giving you more than he could imagine. You leaned toward your hands and pecked his skin. You felt him tense immediately. “ I’m sorry–”

“ No.. No, it’s okay.. I.. I was just surprised.”

You leaned your forehead against his back, your eyes still closed. Has Alastor ever been backstabbed ? Was that why he was so protective of you? Was that why he always held distance with others? You remembered him telling you once when you were children : 

“ A betrayal always comes from your own house.”

Was he talking about his dad? You only knew that Alastor didn’t like his father but that was it. You didn’t like his father because you felt like Alastor wasn’t safe with him… 

You felt Alastor moved and you leaned back. You kept your eyes closed, as long as he didn’t tell you to open them, you would keep them close. You would accept all of Alastor when he was ready. You waited for him to talk but you could only hear your own breathing.

“ Alastor.. Where..?”

“ I’m here, you are caged between my legs right now.” 

You scoffed at the choice of his words.

“ I’m caged ?” you teased him, tilting your head against his legs. You were beginning to be very tired…

“ With me.” you felt his lips against your forehead.” Would you like that? Being caged with me?” he whispered, almost as if he didn’t want you to hear him. Was he afraid of your answer? Should you be afraid that you didn’t hesitate ?

“ Yes.”

You gasped as he tugged you against his naked torso, hugging you so hard, you were almost choking but you embraced him even harder. You desperately wanted to see his face but he wasn’t ready right now. So you would wait…

He let you go and you waited a moment before he said you could open your eyes. You turned to look at him, he was wearing a pajama that belonged to your father. He went downstairs and you put on your nightgown.

What had just happened ? You felt like your bond, who was already deep, just deepened once more. You turned your head toward the door as you saw Alastor with your cup, you could already smell the  sweet scent of hot chocolate. You smiled at him as he gave you your cup and you drank eagerly.

“ I hope you’ll get warmer with this… disgusting brevage.”

“ Alastor, you have no taste. Who drinks coffee without sugar or with some sweets?”

“ Me.”

You shook your head, laughing quietly. You didn’t want to wake up your mothers. You finished your cup and went under the cover. Alastor joined you; you looked at him. You couldn’t see any trace of fatigue.

“ You think you’ll be able to sleep a little?”

“ Mhn… Who knows.” he closed his eyes with an amused smile. You rolled your eyes at him before falling asleep not even five minutes later.

You woke up hours laters, drooling on your pillow. What time was it..? You looked around, you could hear noises downstairs and Alastor wasn’t next to you anymore. You yawned as you stretched your body just like a cat. Thinking of cats, you’ll have to visit Husker next time. 

You took your robe and went downstairs, going straight toward the living room where everyone was. You hugged your mother and Marie wishing them a Merry Christmas. You looked around, Alastor wasn’t there?

“ How was your soirée sweetie?” asked Marie with a soft smile. You told them how big the mansion was, how there were so many guests, how you sang with a band, that you and Alastor danced. It was a really good soirée. You looked at the Christmas’s tree, you didn’t even notice the presents below the tree. When did you mothers put it here, it wasn’t there when you came home last night.

“ Well, it’s time to open the presents!” said your mother with absolute glee! She went toward the tree and gave Marie’s your present. She seemed really touched. You smiled at her, Marie’s was someone important for you now, so of course you would make something for her ! 

“ You bought my Mother a gift?” you felt Alastor leaned against you with a happy grin.

“ I made it, she is the one who has to support you everyday, she is a real hero!” you kissed both of his cheeks with a teasing grin. 

“ Oh dear, did you make it ?” she smiled at you as she showed everyone your handkerchiefs. It wasn’t perfect but you did try your best. You nodded and she stood up before hugging you. You sigh in relief, okay, it went well.

Everyone gave their presents. You were surprised when Alastor gave your mother a gift, thanking her for everything she has done for his mother. Your mother almost cried but she composed herself quickly. It was a perfume! Wasn’t that scarily expensive ?

Marie gifted you a book with all of her recipes. You couldn't wait to try it! Alastor suggested that you should wait for him to be with you if you wanted to try some of them, for security’s purpose. 

You took the gift you had for Alastor. Alright, now or never. You walked toward him with, you hoped, a relaxed smile but from his observing eyes, you must have failed. You put the little package in his hand.

“ Merry Christmas Alastor.”

He stared at you but opened his present. His eyes widened as he saw a beautiful watch.  You had a hard time buying a watch that looked luxurious but wasn’t too expensive. Thank God Alice had contacts everywhere.

“ Well, dear… I’m flattered.” he said with a genuine smile, already putting the watch around his wrist. You relaxed, every gift was given, you could relax now. You sat on the sofa with a sigh. Who would have thought Christmas could be so stressful? 

“ Stand up dear, I still didn’t give you my gift?”

You tilted your head but stood up. Alastor made you turn your back to him after he put his gift in your hand. You looked at him curiously but he just made a movement with his head toward the gift. You opened it carefully and gasped.

Into a beautiful white cloth  was a beautiful necklace who looked like gold with a red stone hanging from it. You stared at him, your mouth wide open. How..?

You felt Alastor getting closer, carefully taking the necklace.

“ May I?”

You nodded as he put on the necklace around your neck. You touched the red stone with a moved smile. You would never take it off. You saw from the corner of your eyes your mothers giggling behind their hands as they watched you. You rolled your eyes, amused. Who were the adults here? You felt Alastor hands on your shoulder and he whispered in your ear.

“ Merry Christmas, my dear.”

Tag List: @lukneetoonz @martinys-world @littlepoetnova @sirens-and-moonflowers @eris-norwega @tiredflame132 @mo-0-o @vvollerie @sodavizz@boogiemansbitch @tessemerick @slytherin4ever @kammsinn @alastorssimp @t0xic1vi

[lsunstreakerl]

okay 60+ votes in like an hour is good enough for me! have 1.6k of vampire smut. no plot. don't go looking, it's not there. GP pov!

pairings: GP/max

relevant heads up: they're vampires. blood kink, blood play, daddy kink, max shaming, power dynamic if you squint.

Gianpiero blinks awake as his covers move, a cold body wiggling right up next to him. He groans, hand flopping around until he can get his palm clasped across the back of Max's neck— not that it does any good.

He can feel tiny pinpricks in his skin as Max nibbles at his collarbone, pressing closer to him.

"Max. You're supposed to be in Monaco."

Max whines, unlatching from his neck.

"GP, I'm hungry, I didn't want to go upstairs and feed off of Daniel again. It makes me feel bad."

Gianpiero pulls him away from his skin by the back of his neck, gripping the skin in a firm scruff.

"Because he's happy, Max. Obviously he's not going to taste good. That doesn't explain why you felt the need to fly all the way over here,"

He shakes Max roughly, watching his head flop around even as his eyes stay locked with Gianpiero's, wide and wanting.

"Break into my house,"

Another harsh shake.

"And latch onto me like it's your first day dead."

Max frowns.

"You used to let me do that all the time."

"Yes, when you were a baby. It's been sixty years, you need to learn some patience."

Max blinks up at him from under his lashes, blue eyes wide as he swings a leg to straddle Gianpiero's thigh.

"But daddy—"

Gianpiero groans, head falling back as he catches the edge of Max's wicked grin.

"Don't 'daddy' me, you know better. I thought letting you use the sim for virtual tournaments was giving you enough?"

Max grinds down onto his leg, cold fingers skating up his side under his shirt.

"It was, and now it's not, and I'm hungry."

Gianpiero sighs, gripping Max's hips to hold him in place, glaring. Normally he'd have a cute little flush in his cheeks, but he's run through his blood supply faster than he was supposed to, again.

Gianpiero had been assigned Max because they were similar, in the sense that they both got additional nourishment from broken dreams. Gianpiero has easily sated that urge by working in a Formula 1 team, because someone is always losing. It's delicious.

Max is younger, irresponsible and still full of life, despite his status as undead. He'd been excited to be a racer instead, claiming that the broken dreams tasted sweeter when he was responsible for them.

It works well during the season, but...

It's times like now, in the middle of the offseason, that Gianpiero is reminded why Max still needs supervision.

"Christ, you're high maintenance."

He shoves Max back into the bed, determined to ignore the way he blinks up at him, lips parted as he arches his back.

"Come on, just a little, please, I'll be so good, I'll even let Checo get some points this year."

Gianpiero gathers his wrists above his head, forcing his eyes away from his splayed thighs, pale skin on display.

"Like you let Alex? Right, I'll believe it when I see it."

Max pouts up at him, pointed fangs peeking out over the curve of his bottom lip.

"That wasn't my fault, it was his fault, you can't get mad about it."

Gianpiero rolls his eyes, free hand skimming across Max's chest, tweaking at a nipple under his shirt, listening to his small gasp as he squirms.

"Because nothing is ever your fault, is it? Perfect little golden boy who does no wrong?"

There's a sharp gleam in Max's eyes when he grins up at him, predatory and hungry.

"I'm so good, daddy. I'm destroying them every time, I'm feeding us both, I do such a good job, tell me I'm good daddy, please—"

Gianpiero cuts him off, pinching one of his fangs between his index finger and thumb, watching Max's tongue dart out at lick at his fingers.

"You're gluttonous is what you are. You can't ration, you gorge during the season, and then you get all thirsty and desperate over break. Why should I help you, hmm? Don't you think I've done enough for you?"

Max licks at the pad of his thumb, hips canting up underneath him. He can't respond, not with Gianpiero's fingers in his mouth, but he pushes his hips up into Gianpiero, squirming where he's pinned at his wrists.

Gianpiero sighs, shaking Max's head with his tooth.

"You're pathetic, lad. Stay here."

Max nods, wide eyed as Gianpiero slides out of bed, padding into the kitchen. He has a blood bag in the fridge somewhere— and despite his attitude, he always keeps O+ stocked for Max.

He hears a quiet gasp from his room again, rolling his eyes as he makes his way back to the bedroom, blood bag in hand.

Max has two fingers pushed inside himself, arching off the bed as his lashes flutter shut. He's long limbed, body stuck in time forever, all pale skin and corded muscle, legs spread wide on the bed.

"Max."

Gianpiero hears the edge to his voice, setting the blood bag on the bedside table.

Max's eyes blink back open, pupils blown. He knows what he looks like, stretched out with his fingers inside of him. He knows what it does to Gianpiero.

There's a smug curl in his lips, because he's getting exactly what he wants. Gianpiero is giving in again.

"Get your fingers out, you little brat. It's supposed to be a punishment, since you can't remember to behave."

He pulls them out, blue eyes tracking the way Gianpiero shivers at the sound.

"Hands on the headboard."

Max is still smug as his fingers curl into the headboard, sharp nails fitting perfectly into the dents that he'd left behind years ago. Gianpiero sheds his boxers, one hand stroking himself to hardness as he grabs the blood bag with the other.

There's lube in the drawer, just enough for him to slick up his own cock, although he doesn't spare any time for Max— and Max knows the rules, so he won't feel bad either. His little brat was perfectly aware of what he was doing.

Max's eyes are trained on the blood bag as Gianpiero hitches one leg up, thumb tracing at his rim before he slides in.

He's tight, a sensation that Gianpiero knows he should be used to by now, but never gets any less addictive, and the broken moan that rips out of him at the first snap of his hips is music to his ears.

"Daddy—"

Gianpiero snags the blood bag, hooking one nail into the corner as he rolls his hips, pushing deeper into Max. His face is twisted in discomfort, but he bucks up to meet his thrusts, tiny gasps falling from his lips.

"You can beg prettier than that, I've heard it."

Max pouts again, squirming as Gianpiero fucks into him, tightening impossibly further around him.

"Please, I'll be so good, I'll ration it, I'll suck your cock, whatever you want— daddy please give it to me, need it so bad—"

Gianpiero rips at the corner, pressing it into Max's mouth, past his perfect gleaming fangs. Max likes to be messy with it, moaning loudly as it flows into his mouth, rivulets of crimson spilling over his lips. Gianpiero leans down, licking at the mess as he snaps his hips in again, Max's ankles hooked behind his back.

It's intoxicating, watching the life return back to him— the flush building in his face, spreading up to his ears and down his chest, the slow increase of body heat between them.

Max desperately sucks at the remains in the bag, blood smeared down his chin and dripping down his neck, twisting his hips to meet Gianpiero's thrusts. He's dutifully kept his hands curled around the headboard, nails digging into the wood.

Gianpiero runs his fingers across the mess on his face, wrapping them around his cock as he leans in and kisses him, slick with spit and the copper tang of blood.

Max whines into his mouth as Gianpiero jerks him off, frantically bucking into his hand. He's trembling, muscles locking up, and he knows he's close, just needs a little more.

Gianpiero licks across the roof of his mouth, muffling his moaning as he fucks in hard, pressing Max into the mattress, fingers around his cock in a slippery ring as he thumbs at the head of it.

Max wails into his mouth as he comes, and Gianpiero can hear the familiar sound of wood splintering. He doesn't stop, keeping his harsh pace even as Max starts to squirm again, licking across his smaller fangs before pressing his own against Max's throat.

Their fangs get longer with age— Max has young fangs still, cute when they poke over his lip. Gianpiero's are longer, leaving faint indents in Max's skin. Max shudders, mouth falling open as tears build at his lashes.

"Daddy please—"

His voice is high and whiny, and he's so tight even after his orgasm, blue eyes watery where he's watching Gianpiero, cheeks flushed with fresh blood.

Gianpiero sinks his teeth into his neck when he comes, hips pressed flushed to Max's ass as he wails, legs kicking out, head tossed back into the pillows.

He's thrashing, pinned by Gianpiero's weight and hands, by his own obedience keeping his fingers curled tight in the headboard, even as the tears start to fall.

Gianpiero drinks in a large mouthful, pushing a thumb against the pinpricks of blood when he detaches, curling over Max's body to press their lips together.

He lets the blood spill from his mouth to Max's, grinning at the way Max desperately kisses him, frantically trying to catch every drop.

He leans back, satisfied with his work. Max is debauched underneath him, lashes clumped with tears, cum splattered across his stomach, dripping from between his legs. His knuckles are white around the headboard, muscles in his arms straining.

Gianpiero shakes his head, tutting softly.

"You're a mess, Max. Not sure how I could ever clear you to be on your own yet, not when you can't even feed neatly."

Wide blue eyes blink up at him.

"But I'm good, daddy?"

Gianpiero leans down, thumb brushing over Max's pouting bottom lip, licking at a stray drop of blood.

"You're perfect, baby."

[starlightingsss]

i dont smoke by mitski

laxus x youuuu but ur literally..

"if u need to be mean be mean to me"

"if you need to break more than trinkets in your room, you can lean on my arm as you break my heart"

"just dont leave me alone wondering where you are , i am stronger than you give me credit for"

idk what i was going for here 💔

you weren't s class, but you were pretty close.

you could control one of the bases of human life - bones. it wasn't magic, more like an ability. they spoke to you, little whispers, guidance. in a adults body there are 206 bones, and every single one of them is yours. in some way, the bones are yours, eternally connected to you - the bones aren't who's body they're found in's, the bones are yours. and if that wasn't enoigh, you had an ancient, forbidden charm magic tucked in your sleeve too. a siphoning magic, the ability to give or take magic power through a link you cast - the link can be placed in seconds, and theres not really a limit on who it can be placed on. so! you were pretty powerful, not that laxus saw it of course. all he saw was strength, combat ability. hes into the flashy stuff, stuff that is shown, the stuff that wins.

you didn't mind though, because you knew deep down, he was into you too! he had to be, right? you guys have been together since you were 16, and your 7th anniversary is coming up!

laxus has been a little distant lately, but its okay. hes always distracted, distracted with worth, distracted with anything really. you were just happy he wasn't angry, because when he was mad, it got really bad.

hes a sweet boy, i know he is. i can hear it in his bones, his kindness. i see it in how he spares the animals he finds on the roads, feeding them, i see it in how he doesn't kill insects, instead letting them roam free. he's gentle, and kind, and sweet. he doesn't show it but i know he is.

his grandfather describes it too, whenever i speak to makarov, he reminisces over the laxus i can hear in the bones. the kind, sweet, gentle boy.

makarovs bones groan and creak, straining from age. hes going to be here for way longer though, his bones are strong, sturdy. his bones also speak kindness, but not in the same way as laxus. makarovs bones are kind in the justifying way. i hear the kindness of a teacher in his bones, and the kindness of a guardian in laxus's.

however, this doesn't seem to be an inherited trait. kindness runs in their bones, but does not run in their blood. ivans bones are dry, and hard. they aren't strained with age yet, but sound to be tired - tired of what, im not sure. ivans bones are greedy, gluttonous. i hear it, the desire for success. the willingness to pit others down, sometimes i hear this in laxus too, but i know it's not genuine like it is in ivans. ivans bones are brittle, while makarov and laxus's are flexible, and strong. ivans bones reek, the noises they make grating against my ears, his bones begging for forgiveness deep down. guilty bones. guilt for what, i'm not sure.

the bones consume me sometimes, all i listen to is them. i'm not sure.

you climbed up the stairs to the 2nd floor of the guild hall, finding laxus lounging with his feet propped up.

"hey," i mumbled, before taking a seat next to him. his headphones were in so he couldn't hear me, but i knew he knew i was here. he continued listening to his music, as if i wasnt here at all.

sometimes i wish i was his music, occupying his ears, his brain. instead of just his bones. i wish i was what he heard, what he loved so much, i wish he paid attention to me like he did to his music. but it's okay, hes usually occupied by something.

i tapped on laxus's shoulder, before pulling off his headphones.

"what?" he snapped, looking at me.

[drawlfoy]

benefits of journaling p.2

read p1 here!

pairing: diary!tom riddle x ravenclaw!reader

summary: you pick up an unassuming journal in diagon alley during an antiques sale without knowing that it's actually a part of a late dark lord's soul. sort of no voldy AU, set in the golden trio era where voldemort was defeated in the first war and thus harry has parents still.

warnings: recreational drug use, language, mild gore, snakes, a mouse gets eaten (thoughts and prayers), tom is a little bit gaslighty, the quality of my writing declines sharply

a/n: note that this is not finished at all, but i'm not planning on finishing this series unfortunately :/ i just have too much going on. this is unedited, unrevised, unoutlined, etc. so adjust your expectations accordingly. i just kind of want to get this out so i've given u guys at least *some* semblance of closure for this series. (UPDATE: now that i’ve written this i’ve changed my mind. i will be working on the next part. i forgot how much i love tom)

wc: 6.7k

enjoy !

This time you were unceremoniously dumped into a hard wooden library chair. You gasped as you braced yourself against the hard table in front of you, drawing in shaky breaths as you gathered your bearings. 

 A loud bang startled you into wrenching your gaze up. Tom had dropped a thick book with an ebony cover right next to you, nearly atop your hand. 

“Here you are,” he said pleasantly. “Happy reading.” 

“Do you think I can take this back with me into my world?” you asked. The cover was smooth under your fingertips. 

“Unlikely,” said Tom, dropping elegantly into the chair beside you. “You’ll have to read it here.”

You gulped. “Alright.” 

The papers were yellowed and fragile against your touch, and you couldn’t help but wonder just how old it was. 

“Any section you’d recommend starting with?” 

The book was around 700 pages with tiny, fine print.

“Perhaps the beginning.” Tom waved his wand and wordlessly summoned a stack of books, lifting one up and beginning to read for himself. 

You’d thought that you’d be less intimidated knowing that he was also doing something besides staring at you reading, but the back of your neck still prickled as you pulled the book to the edge of the table and began to dig in.

It was bizarre, reading next to a boy like this. The only one you ever studied with before had been Ishan, and he hardly counted. It was different with Tom. His presence hung in the air around you, a tension so tangible that it wasn’t unthinkable that you might feel something if you let your fingers sift through the space between you.

Despite all you’d told Tom, spending time around him made you unfathomably nervous. He was too good-looking to feel even remotely normal around him, and it was all you could do to hope that he didn't notice how much you blushed whenever he spoke to you.

The book he’d given you was dense and horrific, detailing magic so ugly and foul that you felt dirty just reading it. It covered topics you’d heard of before, like cases of the Imperius curse or the misuse of love potions or the nature of dark magic. 

But there was nothing pertaining to Tom’s situation.

“Can’t you at least point me towards a chapter? Or…a general section of the book?” you asked him. 

Tom lifted his gaze from his work, quirking a brow. “Having trouble?”

“This is going to take me forever to read.” You motioned at the width of the book. 

“Then I guess I’ll be seeing much more of you.” 

You couldn’t fight back the flush that spread across your face. “Well, this is an easily solvable problem. You really ought to just point me to the most relevant part.”

“And here I was, thinking I was doing you a favor,” said Tom. His eyes locked onto yours, and for a moment you thought you saw the slightest suggestion of a smirk on his lips. “Given that you’re such a glutton for knowledge and not at all singular in your academic pursuits.”

“That’s not—” You paused when you saw the amusement on his face. He’d been playing with you. “I’m flattered that you remembered. I suppose you’re right.”

And since you refused to let him win, you flipped the book back open and picked up right where you left off. 

It was really stupid to feel so light at the fact that Tom had remembered a sentence you’d said verbatim, because even if it implied that he’d thought about your last interaction enough to commit it to memory, it was hardly a surprise. It wasn’t like he had anything better to do in his empty version of Hogwarts except read books he’d probably already read many times before.

You snuck another look at him a few chapters later. A few waves had fallen across his face, dangling over his brow. For a moment, all you could do was keep yourself from reaching out to tuck them back into order, to know what it felt like against your fingers.

But that was a boundary you hadn’t crossed yet—if you even could. Who knew how the rules worked in this dimension?

You resolved to believe that you couldn’t touch him. That it was impossible. Because if you believed that, maybe you’d stop wanting to. 

“You never ended up telling me if you were a Parselmouth,” you realized aloud after you’d completed another gruesome section about ritualistic Dark Magic. 

You watched him closely but didn’t detect even a glimpse of surprise. 

“I didn’t,” he agreed smoothly. He didn’t look up from his page. 

“So? I gave you a secret. Many, actually.”

“I think you already know.” He turned the page, dark eyes darting across the next. 

“Well—” You paused, worrying your lip between your teeth as you realized that he was right. “What’s it like?” 

That was what prompted him to finally lean back in his chair and lift his gaze from the book to your eyes. 

“What’s it like?” 

Repeated back to you, it did sound very silly. 

“I mean,” you said, cheeks hot, “What do you even talk to snakes about? The weather? Whether or not there’s enough mice in the area?” 

“It’s unlikely to find snakes that do more than listen to me,” he said. “Most aren’t very good conversationalists.”

“A boy in my—our, I guess—year has a pet ball python,” you told him. “I just don’t understand why he’d want one. They don’t seem like very good companions.”

“Why not?”

“Because they have no emotional depth,” you said. You could feel your voice slipping into the tone you used when you tutored younger students, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You’d researched this extensively in the library after the Incident in third year when you were looking for any good academic reason for how terrified you were of Malfoy’s pet. “They have no limbic system, so everything for them is about survival. There’s no—no mutual concern or love like you’d get from something normal, like a cat or an owl. As their handler, you only matter because you’re what keeps them alive. I don’t think I’d ever be able to get over that.” 

“So all your companions have to love you?” Tom was resting his chin in his palm now as he looked at you. “They’re worthless otherwise?” 

“That’s not what I’m saying,” you responded. “But I like my company to see me as something more than an avenue for survival or a means to an end.”

“Their companionship isn’t enough?”

You blinked. Everyone else that you’d given your reptile spiel to had completely understood. You couldn’t quite figure out why Tom wasn’t agreeing. “It’s just nice to be cared about, don’t you think? And it’s…it’s nice to care about something without it feeling meaningless.” 

“I imagine that that’s true,” Tom said evenly. 

Something deep inside you twisted at the implications of his answer. You’d sort of forgotten that he grew up in a muggle orphanage and likely didn’t have any sort of emotional closeness during his early childhood. But he was so pretty and sharp and witty that it was hard to imagine no one caring for him. Perhaps that had changed upon his admission to Hogwarts. He had said that witches and wizards found him charming. You could attest. 

~

You passed the following Potions lab with flying colors and a perfectly brewed Draught of Peace that made even Snape nod approvingly. It was thrilling. It was incredible. All you wanted to do was get Tom’s diary out right then and there and document it as it happened—as if he were right beside you—but you refrained. You told him that night instead, when you were back again for another reading session.

You were falling into his world on a daily basis, devouring as much of the book as you could without forgoing any conversations with Tom. He’d been impressed to hear about your potion in his own very Tom way. He didn’t tell you outright that he thought that you were brilliant or smart or incredible. Instead he seemed entirely unsurprised, like he thought you capable of nothing less. Somehow that made you glow more than any explicitly stated praise that he could’ve offered.

When you weren’t reading, you were walking around the grounds with Tom and just talking, much like you used to write to him. At first you’d been nervous and uncomfortable with being as open with him in person as you’d been in writing, but Tom had a funny way of making you feel seen. Despite his slight aloofness and obvious air of pretension, he listened to you and appeared genuinely interested in your life by way of remembering things you’d said months ago.

Like when you’d told him off-handedly that it was raining back in the real world and that it was your favorite weather, and ever since the Hogwarts you were transported to was constantly overcast with torrential downpours unless you two were walking outside. 

You still never dared to touch him, though. That was a line that you refused to cross. Tom seemed to hold the same opinion, keeping a wide berth around you whenever tactile contact was in the realm of possibility. 

“How did you become a Parselmouth?” you asked him one day while you were taking a break from reading and walking through the Transfiguration Courtyard. 

His eyes narrowed as he turned to you. “Do they not teach you about Parseltongue in Defense Against the Dark Arts anymore?”

“No,” you said. “I’ve only ever heard about it by reading a book from the Restricted Section. It was very vague. All I know about it is that it’s the language of reptiles.” 

“No one becomes a Parselmouth.” Tom turned his attention back to the walking path, adjusting the cuff of his robes for just a second. “All Parselmouths are born. It’s entirely hereditary.” 

“So did you have to learn it?” you asked. Your interest was piqued—you’d never heard of a language that was passed through genes.

Tom shook his head. That one rogue strand of black hair had escaped its orderly wave, just like how you remembered him from his yearbook picture. “I’ve never had to think about it. I’ve just always known how to say what I want.” 

“Do you think that you could…” Your voice trailed off and you swallowed thickly. You weren’t even sure why you’d started asking him that question. Of course he couldn’t teach you Parseltongue. You didn’t even really want to know it, either. You’d never use it. But you hated being told that you didn’t know something. That you couldn't know something. 

“We can give it a try,” he offered. 

You dared to glance back up at him and found him already looking at you. “How did you know what I was going to say?”

“I don’t know.” He appeared to be making a valiant effort to quell a grin. “I suppose it has something to do with your approach to acquiring knowledge. One could almost call it…gluttonous in nature.”

You sent him a glare.

Tom shrugged, properly smiling now for the first time in front of you. He had shallow, almost perfectly circular dimples. “Anyway. I’ve never taught anyone before. I actually don’t believe it to be possible, but we might as well give it a go.”

“You’ve never tried?” you asked. “None of your friends at Hogwarts asked you to teach them?”

“No,” he said. “No one knew I was a Parselmouth. I kept that a secret.”

“Why?”

He shrugged again. “I enjoy my privacy. Right, then. Serpensortia.”

A large, hissing snake appeared at your feet, thrashing about in the grass as it unhappily acclimated to its new environment. 

You yelped, leaping nearly a foot in the air. Tom simply stood still, watching you with an amused expression on his features.

“Having second thoughts?”

“No,” you said through gritted teeth, refusing to let your eyes move from the wriggling snake in front of you. “I’m just—surprised.”

“It won’t hurt you.” His voice was low, gentle. “Don’t be afraid.” 

“I’m not,” you said, but the slight wobble in your tone betrayed you. “Just—get on with the lesson, alright?” 

He stood silently, his head tilted in concentration.

“What’s it saying?” you found yourself asking. “Is it—I dunno—threatening my life or something?”

Tom sent you a look that you couldn’t quite decipher. “It’s scared of you.”

“Really?” A spark of smugness lit up within you.

“No.”

“Oh.”

“It’s expressing how upset it is at how suddenly I’ve conjured it. Apparently we’ve interrupted the start of its meal.”

“What do I say if I want to apologize?” 

 He appeared to consider your request for just a moment before opening his mouth and making a hissing noise that you didn’t think you could replicate if you had a thousand years. 

The snake immediately quieted and stopped its thrashing, its tiny head lifting from the ground to regard Tom curiously. 

He looked back at you, expectant.

“Again, please,” you said. “A little slower this time. I didn’t quite catch it.” 

He obliged, going through each syllable separately.

You felt very much like you were back in muggle school before you’d found out you were a witch, being forced to read out a passage in French. The sounds that came out of you were clumsy and not at all what you thought they’d sound like.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you accused. “For the record, I know it was bad.” 

He didn’t address it beyond just the slight upward twist of his lip before he repeated it again, syllable by syllable.

You tried once again with the same outcome. 

“Your tongue should be a little behind your teeth,” he said. “You have yours too far back on the roof of your mouth, which is why you’re losing control. Try again.” 

This time, it came out much cleaner. The snake took notice of you for the first time, its dark scales glistening under the cloudy sky. It hissed something back. Tom’s mouth split into a grin.

“What did it say?”

“It wants to know if you have any food,” he told you. 

“What’s ‘yes’?”

Saying yes in Parseltongue was much easier than saying sorry—it only took two syllables, both of which were made up of sounds that you were pretty sure you had in the English language.

The snake was giving its full attention to you now. Its forked tongue stuck out for just a second. 

Gulping, you accioed a small stone into your palm and cast a quick charm to transfigure it into a mouse—something that you’d learned years ago. 

You set it on the ground and watched the snake lunge.

“Gross,” you said under your breath, wincing as it began to swallow it whole, its body twisting and contorting as it shoved it down.  “I—I think I’m done with the lesson now. I’ve learned enough.” 

“You really didn’t need to feed it,” Tom pointed out helpfully. 

“Yeah. I know that now. I just felt like it deserved something for the trouble.”

Once the snake had succeeded and the only evidence of the mouse was a bulge in the adder’s scales a little past its head, it lifted its head again to meet your eyes, its tongue slithering out as it made a sharp hiss. 

“What’s it saying?”

“It thanked you,” said Tom. He was giving you that look again—like he was reconsidering you. 

“And if I wanted to say ‘you’re welcome’?”

“I thought you said you were done with the lesson.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Consider this my last request. I’d like to be polite.” 

Tom let out a sigh, then made a sound that glided from a long S to a few sharp, pointed consonants. 

You clumsily mimicked him, feeling like your tongue was much larger than you’d ever bothered to notice. 

To your surprise, the adder slithered towards you, dragging itself onto the rock of the courtyard and in front of you. It coiled around your shin, slowly pulling itself up your body.

“Tom!” you whisper-screamed through your teeth.

“It’s alright,” he said. 

“Do something!” 

The snake continued up your leg, looping once around your waist as it continued its ascent up to your shoulder. It was cold and oddly heavy, its scales clammy against the bare skin of your neck.

For one terrifying moment, you thought that it was going to coil around your neck and squeeze until you asphyxiated. Your breath caught in your throat as it came around behind your neck, both ends dangling around your neck as you were paralyzed with fear. 

Then it did the most peculiar thing; it stopped, just hanging in a loose hold around the base of your neck, its face nestled into the collar of your robes. 

“What’s it doing?” you whispered. You tried to ignore the lump in its body that you could feel at the side of your neck.

“It’s resting on you,” said Tom. 

“Why?”

“Because it likes you.” 

You stared at him, floored. “It does not.”

He hissed something to the snake around your neck. It responded with something you couldn’t even begin to understand. 

“It just told me so,” said Tom.

“How do I know you didn’t just make that up?” you said, mentally crossing your arms across your chest but refraining since a snake was taking residence there at present. 

“You don’t trust me?” asked Tom. “I’m hurt.” 

Before you could respond, you felt the slow, languid movement of the adder as it lifted its head from your collar. Without thinking, you offered it your hand, watching in quiet fascination as it slithered around your wrist.

“Hi,” you said shyly, like you’d speak to a nervous cat.

“It won’t understand—”

“I’m aware, Tom,” you interrupted, sending him a look before turning back to your wrist. “We’re bonding. Bugger off.” 

He held his hands up in exasperation. “Bonding? Are you going to take him back to the real world as your familiar?” 

For a moment, you actually considered this.

“Because that’s a terrible idea,” continued Tom, crushing your dream right then and there. “Adders are venomous. Once you don’t have me around, you won’t be able to communicate with it. It’ll probably bite someone.” 

“Then perhaps we should start brainstorming ways to bring you back,” you said. “For safe snake handling, if nothing else.” 

Tom didn’t say anything to this; instead, he reached out and gently unwound the adder from your wrist, his skin not brushing yours once. 

“Surely there’s someone wondering where you are,” he said once the snake had been deposited on the ground. “You’ve been here longer than usual.” 

“Do you not want to get out of here?” you asked, frowning. “It hardly seems like you’re trying.” 

“I’ve been doing research when you’re not around,” he said simply. “I think I just need to theorize for a bit longer—figure out the best course of action.” 

“The process would be sped up significantly if you let me help.”

“I won’t ask that of you. It’s very complicated magic—” He paused for just a moment, noticing the derisive curl of your mouth. “—Not that I think you incapable, of course. But you’ve better things to do. It would distract from your exams, and I tend to work better alone in this stage of research.”

“Oh,” you said, hoping the hurt wasn’t showing on your face. It made sense that he would want to work on this alone. You understood not wanting to have to explain things to people when you could already be going down a rabbithole that you’d deemed important. Plus, your current Tom rendez-vous schedule was eating enough time as it was. But it still stung. 

“You’ll be the first to know if I stumble across anything conclusive,” said Tom.

You snorted. “Obviously.”

“Well—” Tom stopped himself. You thought for a moment that you detected the slightest flush across his pale skin, but that was likely because of the chill outside. “That was more clever in my head. Sorry.”

“I imagine that being in solitary confinement for half a century might addle your mind a bit,” you offered diplomatically.

“My mind is not addled.”

“I was very graciously giving you an easy out.” 

“Someone is probably wondering where you are,” he repeated, his jaw tense. “So I’m going to send you back now.”

Without giving you another chance to argue, you were catapulted back into your desk chair.

~

“You look like you could do with a night out,” Lucy observed as she watched you storm into your dorm and send your satchel flying through the air to land messily on your bed.

“Casting my first and last Unforgivable on McLaggen would be preferable,” you said through gritted teeth. 

He’d been your partner today in Arithmancy to work on a partner problem set. It apparently wasn’t enough for him to be dreadfully stupid and slow—he had to be an absolute chauvinistic arse about it. Whenever you attempted to correct him, he’d look at you with so much amusement that it made your head pound.

He didn’t even need to say anything—the look in his eyes told you that he didn’t even see you as a person. 

The last person to treat you so dismissively had been Pansy Parkinson, but at least she’d been smart. And a witch. McLaggen dripped with conceit and smugness and was disgusting towards the most pureblooded witch on a good day. 

It’d been nearly 3 hours and your blood was still boiling. 

“Well, I can’t arrange that,” said Lucy. “But I can tell you that Hufflepuff is throwing tonight. McLaggen probably won’t come—Ernie hates him, and he’s the one who put it all together.” 

You considered this, looking longingly once at the bag on your bed. You hadn’t done anything with your friends in forever; nearly all the time you had was spent either studying or with Tom. 

The Hufflepuffs were always gracious hosts, too. The last time you’d gone, they’d given you something to smoke that had smelled like a meadow on a sunny spring day and made you feel like you were floating. You’d giggled all night with Lucy, clinging to one another. You’d gone on some tirade about how much you loved her, touching her face and tearing up as you said something about how you didn’t know what you’d be without her. Lucy’d beamed back at you, her face wide open with raw gratitude. 

It had been sappy, but it had been fun and one of the few positive memories you had from the disaster that had been O.W.Ls season. 

“You know what,” you said slowly, watching Lucy’s face light up, “I think that’s just what I need.” 

Tom could wait. 

Lucy squealed and got right to work. In seconds, all the clothes you’d brought from home were strewn across her bed as she scrutinized each one. 

“I thought this was just going to be, like, a chill thing,” you said. 

Lucy picked up a sequined top, held it up to your chest, and wrinkled her nose. “Too loud.” 

“Lucy—”

“I never get to go out with you,” she interrupted, yanking a black slip dress from the pile that caught the warm overhead light. “Thoughts? We could do some fun earrings or something to dress it up.” 

“Are we not just going to sit in a circle and smoke again? This feels a little overkill.” 

“Well, it’s not,” said Lucy, throwing it at you. “This is hardly a ballgown. Plus, this is your annual outing. Dress to impress.” 

You rolled your eyes and slipped the straps off the hanger, throwing it over your shoulder as you turned around to change.

Lucy continued her rampage, ooh-ing and aah-ing upon seeing it on you and immediately cornering you with a scary looking brush.

“For your eyes,” she said, like that made you feel any better. 

“What?” 

“Close them.” 

You squeezed them shut, willing this to be over. You’d had your own experience with muggle makeup, which was tame and not at all exciting. The Wizarding World always had interesting takes on beauty tools, like charmed kohl that could turn your entire eye black if you weren’t careful enough. 

Something cool and wet swiped across the corner of your eyes. Lucy mumbled something under her breath, and there was a slight ruffling at the end of your lashes, like a light breeze had swept through them. 

“Open.”

You blinked, your lashes feeling a little heavier. 

“Pretty,” said Lucy, nodding seriously. “Hang on. Do you have a lip color preference?” 

You stared. A lip color preference? “Er—whatever you think makes the most sense with my undertones.” 

“You would say that,” Lucy replied, already holding a wand of lip gloss. “Put this on.” 

When you turned to look into the mirror she was holding out, you nearly started at your reflection. Lucy had done something insane with your lashes, curling them up and adding length that didn’t look too obvious. That weird tool she’d used on your eye had created a sharp, clean line that followed the contour of your lashline and licked out at the end. 

You looked really pretty. Not quite Tom Riddle level pretty, but pretty nonetheless.

“Thanks,” you said, turning back to Lucy after you’d applied the gloss she’d given you. It smelled faintly of something that you couldn’t quite place—like old parchment and the memory of walking through the library in the middle of the night. It was the strangest scent you’d ever encountered in a lip product. 

Ernie and the rest of the Hufflepuffs did not disappoint. They’d bribed house elves into bringing an entire spread of food that was fragrant and under a constant stasis spell to keep an optimal temperature. You spent the evening chatting with your Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff friends and feasting on ripe slices of pineapple and bites of strawberry that stained your already glossy mouth a vibrant pink. 

Then Hannah Abbott reached into her pocket and pulled out a stash of corked bottles. 

“Party Potions,” said Lucy in wonder as you both stared at the swirling liquids.

You’d heard of them before but had never personally had one. You weren’t entirely sure what they did, in all honesty, and that stressed you out enough to keep you from giving them a whirl. 

They were different vibrant colors—one an opalescent pink, one a vibrant orange, one a blood red, one a deep, midnight blue that reminded you of your house colors. 

“Anyone want one?” asked Hannah, motioning to her pile. Terry Boot raised a hand and plucked the orange one from the table, uncorking it and downing it in one go. 

“What do the different colors mean?” you asked. The longer you looked at them, the more you were mesmerized. 

“I don’t remember,” admitted Hannah. “Nothing crazy, I don’t think.”

“You don’t think,” you repeated.

“Just because I don’t remember why I bought each color doesn’t mean that I would’ve purposefully bought something that did bad things,” Hannah told you. “Here. Take one. It’ll help you relax.” 

The midnight blue potion sat on the fingers of Hannah’s outstretched palm. 

“Oh, I couldn’t—”

“I promise it’s nothing too intense,” said Hannah. “You’ve smoked before, right? I’ve had one and it was honestly just like getting crossed. You’ll be fine.”

At the mention of smoking, common sense flew out the window. The last time you’d been offered an illicit substance in the Hufflepuff Common Room, things went really well. Who were you to deny that again?

“If you’re sure it’s alright for me to have it,” you said. The bottle pulled easily from Hannah’s hand and into your grip.

“Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?” Lucy was grinning at you widely. 

Up close, the midnight blue wasn’t solid—there were specks of silver in there, like thousands of stars littered across the night sky. It was stunning. You felt almost bad uncorking it and downing it, but you didn’t give yourself a chance to second-guess.

It tasted like lavender and honey and something burnt that was horribly gross but faded away with time and went down like water. 

“You didn’t save anything for me?”

“Sorry, Luce,” you said, swiping the back of your hand across your lips. 

You weren’t feeling anything yet. Or were you? Was this how you normally felt? The ceiling of the Hufflepuff common room definitely didn’t move, right? And Lucy typically wasn’t outlined in a fuschia pink. That you were sure of.

“Whoa,” you said dumbly.

“I think Y/N’s feeling something!” called out Hannah. “What’s it like?”

You stared at her, watching as a warm brown that reminded you of English Breakfast tea with milk stirred in surrounded Hannah’s edges. 

“You’re such a good person,” you said, feeling tears prick at your eyes, because Hannah Abbott truly was. “And so are you.” 

You turned to Lucy, trying your best not to cry. “Did you know that you’re the color pink?”

Lucy nodded gravely. Later she would laugh about this, but not now. “That’s very kind of you.” 

You spent the evening in a daze, staring open mouthed at your friends as you saw different colors swirl around, some overlapping and blending. 

It was beautiful. Then the sadness kicked in. It wasn’t clear to you exactly what caused your sudden rush of melancholy—but all of a sudden you were staring at the happy people dancing around you, the colors blurring and mingling, and all you could think about was Tom. Tom, who was all alone. Tom, who might never get out. Tom, who was destined for an eternity of loneliness. 

“I’m going to go back,” you said to Lucy, tugging at her sleeve to get her attention. 

She frowned. “Aw, why? Are you not feeling well?” 

“The potion Hannah gave me is making me feel really tired,” you said. It wasn’t a lie. Your eyelids were heavy and the thought of curling up under your blankets sounded better than anything. Well, almost anything. There was something you needed to take care of first. 

“Booooo,” said Lucy, rolling her eyes. “Fine. Do you want me to walk you back?” 

“No! I mean—” You gulped. “You’re having fun. I’ll be fine getting back. I think Ron’s on the rounds in our part of the castle. He’s not going to write me up.” 

“You sure? I’d be happy to take you.”

You started pushing her in the direction of the other party-goers. “Very. Go have fun. I’ll see you when you get back.” 

By the time you’d burst back into your room, your chest was heaving with exertion from sprinting up the stairs as you wrenched open your desk drawer and pulled out the journal.

Tom you wrote. Can you let me in? 

He didn’t answer; instead, you were falling through space and into the warmly lit Hogwarts library from the 40s. 

“Tom!” You couldn’t stop the grin that came across your face. 

“Oh—hello.” Like always, Tom was standing tidily a polite distance from you, his hands tucked neatly behind his back. Unlike always, he was staring at you like you’d just shot his dog. 

“Is everything okay?” The potion you’d taken was definitely still in effect. An inky blackness was hanging around his shoulders—a stark contrast to the paleness of his skin. 

He swallowed, his eyes darting up and down. “Yes. Sorry. You just look a bit different.” 

“Oh. Yeah, I was at a party. Did you know you have a black aura?”

“What?”

“Your aura is black,” you repeated, slower this time. 

He just stared at you. 

“Sorry,” you mumbled, averting your eyes. Maybe he was insecure about having such a lame aura color. It had been a bit rude of you to point that out all willy-nilly. 

“I’m not—” Tom stopped, pressing his lips together before continuing. “I’m sorry, is there a reason why you asked to see me? Surely you don’t mean to read after you’ve just stepped out of a party?”

“Oh,” you said, and suddenly you remembered why you’d come. A somberness dropped over you. “I was just…I was having so much fun tonight. And then I thought about you.”

He stayed silent.

“What’s going to happen to you if I can’t get you out?” Your voice wobbled as tears pricked at the back of your eyes. “Are you just going to be stuck here forever? Won’t you be lonely?” 

When he didn’t immediately answer and opted to stare at you in shock instead, you continued.

“Because I keep thinking about what might happen if something happens to me or I lose your journal,” you confessed, now ardently choking back tears. “I really worry about you. I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t help you leave.” 

“Are you…” His eyes darted up and down you again. “Drunk?”

“Hardly,” you said, swiping angrily under your eyes as you collapsed onto the loveseat that you so often read on, pulling your knees to your chest. Then, quieter: “It was just some potion a friend gave me.”

“If you’re so worried about something happening to you so that I’m left alone…” You weren’t looking up at him, but the increase in volume told you he was coming nearer. “...May I suggest not taking mystery potions?”

Before you could issue a retort, the loveseat cushion shifted to accommodate the weight of a second person, sending you toppling over to the other side. 

Right onto Tom. 

Your hands went flying to the opposite armrest, fingers digging into the worn blue velvet with a death grip as you righted yourself, pushing your knees from where they’d landed sprawled in Tom’s lap.

Which you could actually touch, by the way. The implications began rolling in once you were back on your respective side. He’d been solid and warm and completely void of any attributes that may suggest he was a ghost. Which meant that it was probably possible to…

No. No. You weren’t going to think about that right now. 

“I didn’t realize I could touch you,” you heard yourself saying, staring at him in wonder. “I just assumed I couldn’t.” 

His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Oh.” 

And for purely scientific purposes (no reputable academic came to a firm conclusion based off of a single trial), you reached your hand out and experimentally poked his forearm again. 

“Wow,” you said.

“Will you stop that?” said Tom. 

“Yes.” You retracted your hand and placed it firmly in your lap. Then, because your manners hadn’t completely abandoned you: “Sorry. That was rude of me. I just sort of assumed that since you’re—well, whatever you are—it’d be like touching a ghost or something.” 

“Whatever I am,” he echoed, looking off into the distance with what you could only describe as a very harrowed expression. 

“I’m sorry,” you said again, but you weren’t entirely sure what you were apologizing for. 

Instead of responding, he buried his face in his hands, heaving a heavy sigh as his fingers tangled into his hair. 

“What’s wrong?” you asked. 

He just shook his head, scrubbing his face with his hands once before he let them fall. 

“Er, all right then,” you said. “Would you like me to leave? I’m sorry for bothering you.” 

“You really shouldn’t worry about me,” he finally said. The awkward, slight pauses between his words gave you a sneaking suspicion that he was choosing his words very carefully. 

“Of course I’m going to worry about you.” Now that you knew that you could touch him, nothing stopped you from reaching out to flick his arm indignantly. “We’re friends, and I like to think that my friends would worry about me if I was stuck in journal jail. Or whatever this is.” 

He was still staring at where you’d touched his arm. 

“...Unless you don’t want to be friends,” you added, suddenly feeling a little silly for jumping to such rash conclusions. “Which I’d understand. I can give your journal to someone else. A Slytherin, maybe. Someone a little more your speed.” 

You decided to blame the potion for the obvious hurt that had seeped into your voice at the prospect that there was someone else who was better suited as his confidant. 

“I don’t want you to do that,” Tom eventually said. He wouldn’t meet your eyes. 

“Then what do you want?” The strength in your words surprised even you. “I don’t understand you. You tell me you want to get out, but you still won’t let me help you. You let me talk to you and come visit you and read with you, but then you expect me not to care. It doesn’t make any sense. You don’t make any sense.” 

“It’s more complicated than that,” said Tom, thumbing the ring he always wore around his finger. “I don’t expect you to understand.”

“So help me understand!” Your voice rose sharply, echoing off the walls of the empty library. 

Tom finally turned to you, his face split open with something so uncharacteristically raw and open that it takes everything within you not to gasp. 

“No.”

“What?”

“No.” He drew in long breath. “Not right now. I need more time.”

“Oh, a half century wasn’t enough?” you retorted. “Need another?” 

“It doesn’t work like that,” said Tom, an edge of franticness in the way he spun the ring around his finger quicker. “I never thought that I’d—I didn’t think I’d ever be found. I wasn’t supposed to be found.”

You didn’t know what to say to this. Instead, you sat there with your hands clasped tightly in your lap, eyes set on the floor, your mind racing with all the implications of everything you’d learned.

A moment passed. Then another. Once it appeared clear that you weren’t going to say anything back, Tom spoke up again. “You’re angry with me. I understand that this is…” He paused. “Unconventional. But I am grateful you’ve found me, and I’d really rather prefer that you don’t give me away to another student.”

You were just about to respond when—

“But of course I’d understand if you did,” he added hastily. 

It was the most unnervingly emotional speech you’d ever seen come from Tom, ever the stoic, and under the influence of the potion that Hannah had given you, it was almost enough to make you give in and move on. But not quite.

“You said ‘supposed to’.” Your eyes still didn’t move from where they were trained on the scuffed wooden floor of the library. “You said ‘I wasn’t supposed to be found.’”

“That’s right.”

You turned to look at him, inky black aura spilling over his equally dark hair. “‘Supposed to’. Like you knew this was going to happen. Like this wasn’t an accident.”

And the change you saw in him was so miniscule that if you hadn’t been spending enough time studying his face, you might not have noticed it. But you had, and the slight dilation of his pupils and twitch of his jaw was enough to betray his panic. 

Then his mouth split into a smile and his face smoothed over, his eyebrows furrowed with just the right amount of concern. The shift was startling, like he’d slipped on a mask. “Of course this was an accident. Do you really think that I’d choose to be stuck here for eternity?”

“That’s—” You paused, shaking your head. “I don’t know. I’m not sure.” 

“I wouldn’t,” he pressed, and this time his arm came up to drape over the back of the couch. You tried your best not to think about how you could feel warmth radiating from it, how if you tilted your head back, you might brush against it. “Are you sure you’re well?”

“I’m fine.”

“I’ll send you back,” he said, a polite smile set on his lips. “You should really get some rest.”

And for the first time since you’d first discovered the journal, you fell asleep feeling a little bit afraid of Tom Riddle.

[changingplumbob]

Glenn’s run on the challenge by @cawthorntales had come to an end. While he was happy that Grayson was getting the man he deserved (@akitasimblr your Clive was a winner from the start!) he felt empty. Leaving Henford on Bagley he had to make his way back home alone. Not even proper home. Phoebus had ordered the coven to shift location again in his absence so while the faces he was heading back to would be familiar the surrounds certainly wouldn't be.

I can hear you narrating you know. You can? *sighs* Just leave me alone

CW for very sad Glenn! You've been warned

*TEXT CHIME*

Don’t you want to check that No. I can’t. My wallpaper is me and Grayson. What if I promised it’s just your grandfather wanting to know how you are? *sniffles* I guess I could call him, I don’t want him to worry

Howard: Hello? Glenn: Hi grandfather Howard: Oh my boy. Are you okay? Did you get the right loading screen? Is the hotel nice? Miranda booked it, I still can’t work computers Glenn: You have other skills grandfather. You’re still the best spellcaster I know

Howard: Better not let Phoebus hear that Glenn: Is he still mad Howard: I mean… he’s leader of your coven, of course he’s upset that you chose to leave for the competition. But between you and I he did want you to win Glenn: I wanted me to win to grandfather *sniffles* Look, I’ll see you tomorrow Howard: Just promise me you’ll look after yourself

Glenn: Yeah… *starts to cry* Howard: Oh kiddo, I know it hurts. That’s how you know you were in love. But you have such a big beautiful heart Glenn. I’m so proud of you for putting yourself out there and I know you did your best Glenn: But it wasn’t enough… Howard: Maybe not this time but- Glenn: *sniffling* I got to go grandfather. I need to find some food and check… stuff Howard: Okay. I love you kiddo, I’m going to give you the biggest hug when you’re back

Glenn hung up and felt his hear sink further with every sob. Sure there was company at home but the company he wanted most lay behind him. With another guy.

Do you have to keep narrating, I'm already depressed! Sorry! It's kind of my job as watcher you know. But I did get you an ice cream machine for the hotel...

Perfect. As a glutton my only companion is food. And even that will leave me I didn't mean- And I can't even be mad you know. Clive is so nice and he was always putting Grayson first. I got distracted by one compliment from Brandon and was on the back foot ever since

And... you ignored his dog I got in my own head too much. I was so worried she'd snap at me I didn't even try. But dogs love you Maybe... I guess I just underestimated how much I'd care about him. As time went on I just became so focused on doing everything right, I wouldn't try for stuff in case I got it wrong

I miss him already. Is that not the most pathetic thing you've ever heard Glenn honey, you're spiraling I mean... I'm happy for him, I am. I wanted him to find someone to love and he did. He deserves all the love in the world does my Stud Muffin. I mean... Clive's Stud Muffin

So what's next? Another challenge to break my heart? My own challenge where I get to make half a dozen people feel this insignificant I mean I don't think everyone that pursued Grayson fell as hard as you Clive did. And they're going to have just the most gorgeous kids You know what I think? I think we need to get you back home with the rest of your coven huh? Have a reset

*sighs* Just... promise me I won't be alone forever I'm going to look after you, promise

Who is that handsome sorcerer in the mirror? Wowee, what a catch! I bet he is also super smart, and super funny, and has really really nice abs...

And so we leave Glenn trying his best to give himself a pep talk before he heads back to the coven. What do you think is next for Glenn? Will he be able to move on or will his coven drive him insane? Can the competition give him a Silver lining?

[itsumoegao]

What are your favorite MHA ships?

[[ Oh boy, there are many that I like !! I'll talk about Romantic and Platonic bc both are valid.

Let me talk about my favorite platonic ones with Izuku, I love how Aizawa has been like a father to Izuku, all of Class 1-A hence being called Dadzawa. With @eraserisms, we have really expanded on that dynamic across AUs, I do literally mean that as we have an AU within an AU, where Canon Aizawa is sent to the Swanverse [[ Black Swan ]] and finds himself in a world where Izuku never joined UA and so many heroes are just gone.

What I love so much about this AU is that even though Canon Aizawa is trapped in a prison, there are so many emotional beats taking place between them. Ugh! I love it so much. Another father\son I love is with All Might. When Izuku does something stupid, All Might can't help but go "Yep, that's my boy ... stuck in a tree." lol In all honesty, I had wanted to rp with an All Might for the longest time and I didn't have a chance until @blonddynamite came along. Now we're sharing HCs and such with a fun rp rn. I am so happy. I do have a brotherly ship with @bearratic with their Hawks and an AU of Izuku. Can't wait to write more. As for romantic !!

I obvs enjoy IzuChako and TogaChako ! TogaChako has a lot of chemsitry I was not expecting from an Anime but MHA is a show where many different characters have genuine interactions with between each other. I was not expecting side characters, a hero and villain, to have such a deep connection. I applaud. Another ship, on the same vibe but I don't see a lot of, is TwiceHawks. Even though Hawks was gathering intel with the goal to betray LOV, him and Twice were on rather friendly terms. Before leaving the Hawks shipping train, I do enjoy him with a Todoroki. No, not the Todoroki who called Hawks a barbecued bird, it's the one who called Hawks a glutton. Slightly on the unpopular side, I like SeroShouto, IidaHatsume, TodoMomo, BakuTokoyami, TodoBaku, BakuOcako KodaJiro, KodaMezo, OjiroHagakure, KiriTetsu, IzuAoyama, IzuDenki, IzuAsui, IzuRody, IzuMonoma, EraserDust, EraserMic, EraserCloud, ErasreJoke.

As for popular and favorites, I love KiriMina <3 It was adorable to see their background together and how Mina inspired Kiri in a way before they joined UA. I also love that's how we found out Kiri was not a natural redhead but it helped him stand out. It also took them a moment to have a scene together which felt a lil like a confession in S7.

DenkiJiro should have been obvious to me but I must have been paying too much attention to the fight scenes to notice. When Midnight said "Think about protecting the one you care about the most." or something like that, and Denki thought of Jiro, that took me out almost then I went "... that makes sense!"

I know Overhaul lost his arms to Shigaraki but I def ship them based on potential as well. Jfc, if they just worked together better instead of tripping over their egos, they would have been nearly unstoppable. Hell, maybe Overhaul could have helped with Shiggy dry skin problems. lol Staying on Shigaraki, yes, I also ship him with Dabi.

IzuShouto has to be the most endearing ship as they're both probably new to romance and with poor Shouto being dense af and Izuku not making a first move, with the exception of one person, I can see it being a sweet slow burn of just asking the other person out. Or hell, just go for a kiss and see what happens. I REALLY wanna rp some romance between them uwu. Shouto getting such a healthy and sweet relationship would melt my heart.

....

Ok, I just looked into their wiki and what are these shipping names ?? FreezerBurntBroccoli, PeppermintBroccoli, CandycaneBroccoli, Christmas Boyfriends, Frozen Broccoli, Watermelon Boyfriends, CandyCaneChristmasTree, WinterGreen

I can get behind WinterGreen but ... wtf.

.....

.........

Yes, let's get to my favorite over all, DkBk.

Let me say this is also my favorite photo and I am so sad it's not in the manga. Let me also say the chemistry between this is through the gd roof. When I first watched MHA, I thought IzuChako was the "popular ship" my waifu meant when she she said "Ppl don't Baku x Uraraka bc of the popular ship." My Waifu did not say who the popular ship was but when I saw Izuku get saved by Uraraka and he do the same in turn and her wanting to give Izuku her points I thought "Okay, this must be the popular ship---" NOPE, NOPE, NOPE. I WAS WRONG

I WAS SO VERY, VERY WRONG.

GD, these two... the last time I saw two characters who were basically written for each other was Legoshi and Louis from Beastars. But these two, these two troublemakers, house arrest boys, these two heroes rising to the top of the charts... yeah, it's insane and intense. The character development between them is well written, both of them have falls but also success. They both have risked their lives to save the other, their face offs are my favorite scenes, they interact the most with each other--- IZUKU LOST HIS GD MIND OVER KATSUKI TWICE AND KATSUKI IS USUALLY THE FIRST ONE TO SAVE IZUKU. KATSUKI'S! THOUGHTS! WERE! OF! IZUKU! WHEN! HE! FOUGHT! SHIGARAKI!

So yes, DkBk is my top fav MHA ship among others, thanks for asking ! ]]

[dont-offend-the-bees]

Oh, Lonely Bones, Have You Forgotten? Chapter One

First DBDA multichapter, yay! let's hope I finish it 😅 Nah should be fine, I already know exactly what happens, just gotta get it on the page! The ending will be happy, but there WILL be angst along the way, please heed the tags/warnings!

WARNINGS: This fic references or directly addresses traumas from the characters' pasts. So that's of course bullying, abuse, homophobia, hate crimes, death etc. There's also a very, very brief reference to a possibly creepy teacher eyeing up Edwin (more on that in the end notes), but nothing comes of it, it's just part of the tapestry of his shitty school experiences. Death, loneliness, abandonment, touch starvation, along with morbid things like burials and bodies and bones are core themes of this fic. The ending will be happy eventually but we WILL have a sad ride to get there. So please be aware of that before reading.

I'd like to shout out my bestie kieren-fucking-walker/electricteatime for the absolutely banger headcanon about Charles sometimes manifesting his trauma by getting really cold/his breath misting. It's such a visually cool and emotionally rich idea and the show SHOULD have done it. Chapter one is 6.6k. Chapters 2/3 coming soon (hopefully). Also on Ao3 (need to be signed in to read)

~

“I don’t like this, mate,” Charles muttered.

“No,” Edwin agreed, gravely. “Nor do I.”

Frankly, taking this case was probably an unwise decision. The meagre payment offered by the sickly-looking ghost of the old groundskeeper would fall far, far short of the emotional cost of the expedition. And yet when Edwin had looked over to Charles and met his eyes, there had been no doubt, no hesitation. Perhaps it was the notion of unfinished business; that mysterious force that compelled ghosts to sites of personal trauma as sirens compelled sailors to the unforgiving rocks. Perhaps they were both mere gluttons for punishment.

Either way, they were here now. It was with heavy hearts and wary eyes that on the evening of June twenty-sixth, Edwin and Charles – along with Crystal – set foot once more on the grounds of St. Hilarion's School for Boys.

"So what are we looking for, exactly?" asked Crystal, ever practical. She'd been inordinately serious today, clear-headed and straightforward. Taking pains to rein in her more combustible tendencies. She'd also been casting worried glances at him and Charles all day. Edwin was trying to take the gesture in the spirit in which it was intended. Even if it did make him feel like a mad old maid, half-expected to succumb to hysterics at the drop of a hat.

"We've no way to know for sure," said Edwin. His eyes flickered to the imposing main doors, then upwards, scanning each storey window by window. It was well past lights out, but a single lamp glowed through from the third floor, east wing. The dorms. Most likely the night steward, on the listen for boys up and about and causing mischief. In Edwin's short and tragic experience, such staff were not the most effective of deterrents. Still, best avoided. They didn't want to call attention to themselves.

He flipped to his notes from their client interview. "The groundskeeper reported a low, continuous droning sound, along with unease, malaise, and a sense of being... 'called' to."

"Any words? Phrases?" asked Charles. He was bouncing on the balls of his feet like a boxer. His tension was audible as well as visible – Edwin could hear the subtle clenching of his jaw where it clipped his words. "No spooky voices whispering 'come to the cellar?'"

"No, nothing so helpful as that, I'm afraid."

"So what's the plan?"

"We begin searching for causes or disturbances in a methodical fashion," said Edwin, putting his notebook away. "I suggest we leave bedrooms and dormitories for last, to minimise the risk of interruptions. Crystal, you'd best wait outside until we call you. If anyone wakes you're more likely to be seen; not to mention liable to stand out. This is a boys' school, after all."

Crystal looked unhappy about it, but for once didn't rush to argue his logic. "I don't know. Are you guys gonna be... you know...?"

"We'll be fine, Crys," said Charles, giving her a strained smile and a pat on the shoulder. "Got each other, don't we?"

"Yeah – in the place you both got killed," she said. "You really shouldn't be back here."

Edwin rather agreed with her. And yet, undeniably, he still felt that strange, morbid draw that had coaxed him into accepting the case. There was a mystery afoot, and he and Charles would answer the call. "We'll be quite alright, I'm sure. With any luck, this will be a flying visit. Back in two shakes of a lamb's tail. Charles, have you the torches?"

"Yeah, just a tick." Charles crouched down and riffled through his backpack, disappearing up to the shoulder in its daunting expanse. "Better be careful with them, eh? Try not to flash 'em about too much, make anyone come looking."

"Agreed. For empty rooms only – we'll switch them off at the first sign of footsteps."

"Here we go." Charles handed the two stout electric torches up to Edwin. "Oh! Got something else, too." He dove back in, and re-emerged holding three black plastic blocks. He passed one each to Edwin and Crystal with a grin. "So we can stay in touch with Crystal – and each other, 'case we get split up."

Edwin sincerely hoped such a thing wouldn't come to pass. But he inspected the device with curiosity, its buttons and mesh panel and its little protruding antenna. "Oh. This is one of those... portable radio contraptions."

"Walkie talkies," Charles corrected. He held down the yellow button on his device and a babble of static erupted from the speaker. "Hold the button to talk, yeah?" His voice rattled out through Edwin and Crystal's handsets.

"We gotta get you guys cellphones," Crystal muttered.

"Excellent idea, Charles," said Edwin, ignoring her comment. "But I'd advise against using these except in cases of emergency. The noise could alert people to our presence."

Charles gave a lax salute, and tucked his handset into his coat.

"I really don't like you guys going in there alone," said Crystal, crossing her arms.

"I know," said Charles. "But you get it, yeah?"

A moment of tense silence passed between the three of them; the school looming at their back like a slumbering monster. Inside that building lay several dorms full of teenage boys. Different boys than from Charles and Edwin's times, but alike in breeding, in privilege and temperament. Those boys had tormented Edwin for his mannerisms, and beaten Charles to death for daring to do the right thing – undoubtedly, his parentage had also factored into their violent recourse.

None of them stated their precise fears out loud. The fear of what could transpire if a lone, dark-skinned teenage girl were to find herself in the belly of this particular beast in the dead of night. Even one with considerable psychic powers and two ghost bodyguards at her disposal. No one said a word, but the possibilities hung over their heads like a dark cloud nonetheless.

Perhaps it was an ungenerous thought, to imagine a school full of modern boys could devolve so abruptly into The Lord of the Flies. But Edwin wasn't prepared to roll those dice with his friend's safety. Against his own better judgement, he'd grown... fond of Crystal Palace. He shouldn't like to see her hurt, or killed. In fact, at the risk of sounding overly sentimental, he'd be most perturbed by such a thing.

Crystal sighed. "Yeah. Fine. I get it. Just..." She lurched forward and wrapped her arms around Charles, tightly. "Be careful. Okay?"

"I'm always careful!" he lied, a smile in his voice. It didn't match his face which, thankfully, was hidden from her view in her hair. But Edwin could see it; Charles' careful mask, knocked askew.

He averted his eyes.

Crystal snorted. "Great. Thanks. Makes me feel way better." She broke away from Charles and looked at Edwin, who took a reflexive step back. "I know, I know – no hugs," she said with a roll of her eyes. She compromised by giving his upper arm a firm squeeze instead. "Don't die. Again."

"We'll do our level best," said Edwin, patting the back of her hand briskly. "Now, we really must away – while we have the night on our side."

"There's some pretty dense trees off that way," said Crystal, gesturing. "I'm gonna wait there, should be easy to stay out of sight – hopefully it's close enough to stay in walkie range."

Charles stiffened. "The trees... near the lake?"

"Uh. Yeah, why?"

Edwin watched him closely.

Charles shook his head. "Nah, don't matter. Just – stay safe, yeah?"

"You too." She looked between them. "Hey... look after each other. Okay?"

Charles glanced at Edwin, and his posture softened. "Yeah," he said, with the shadow of a gentle smile. "Always do."

That assurance, at least, was not a lie.

~

"Charles, we're wasting time," Edwin hissed. Honestly – five minutes into their investigation and they hadn't even made it inside the building, yet! "We can simply walk through this door and bypass the lock altogether."

Charles didn't spare him a glance, preoccupied as he was squatting on the doorstep with his lockpicks across his knee. He'd been faffing with the old iron lock on the main doors to no avail for some time. "Yeah, but what if we've gotta call Crystal in to help us out right quick? Dunno if her psychic powers stretch to door hypnotism." He tossed Edwin a cheeky grin. "Only polite to open doors for ladies, innit?"

Edwin, unable to argue the logic or the etiquette, settled for squeezing his fists together and lurking discontentedly. So far he'd not heard the droning the groundskeeper had spoken of, nor felt any ominous supernatural feelings. At least, he assumed he hadn't. But it was a mite hard to focus on anything besides his own anxiety at being back in this place after so many years. Hard to differentiate between personal discomfort and something more sinister.

The lock gave a promising click, and Charles grinned. "Abracadabra."

Edwin stopped his hand when it went to turn the handle. "Best not. We mustn’t announce ourselves."

"Yeah. Yeah, good point." Charles straightened up, tucking his lockpicks away. "So. Hop right on through, then?"

"Indeed."

Charles' jaw gave a nervous tic. "...On three?"

"...Yes. yes, on three." Edwin braced himself. "One..."

"Two..." said Charles, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"Three!"

Their voices joined on the final count; and together they stepped through the ancient, unyielding oak, and into the hall within.

"Oh," Edwin exhaled, taking in the great hall with darting eyes.

"Huh," said Charles, squinting. "Thought it would look... different."

"You took the words right out of my mouth."

The entry hall had changed very little from Edwin's day – and by extension Charles'. Evidently, money and care had been put into the upkeep of the place; Edwin had spotted a plaque on the outside labelling it a registered building. Biggest change to speak of was the burgundy carpet now covering the floor; to protect the old boards from the footfall of thundering teenage boys, no doubt. Other changes were limited to minor modern conveniences. A plastic hand sanitiser dispenser beside the door. A corkboard papered over with glossy flyers for local sports and after school clubs. They surely must have updated the lighting, as well, but he and Charles weren't to benefit at this time for obvious reasons.

The familiarity was unsettling, to say the least. Like stepping back through the decades, into a time he'd gladly leave behind for good. Edwin cleared his throat, and straightened his jacket. "Well. I suppose we must set to. We're wasting the night."

"Where d'you wanna start?"

Edwin pulled out his notebook. He had notes and sketches in there based upon the floor plan that Crystal had sourced via her miraculous internet. Though he suspected he wouldn't need them. Already the sprawling skeleton of this old haunt was reassembling itself in his mind's eye. "It is as I said. We'll scour the lower levels, then work our way up." He furrowed his brow. "Strictly speaking, we should have started lower. This is the first floor, thanks to the stairs outside the main doors – the ground floor is below us, but it's mostly utilities. Kitchens, laundry, storage. Still, we shouldn't rule out that something of import could be down there."

"Easily solved." Charles got down on his knee and stooped, until he could press his forehead to the floor. Then he kept pressing forward, bent double with his backside in the air, and his incorporeal head bobbed through the carpet. Like an ostrich in the sand.

"Laundry room," he called, voice muffled by carpet and floorboards. "No one there. Should be safe to drop right through."

With a fond smile at Charles' bobbing back end, Edwin steepled his fingers. "A quick detour, then," he said, and hopped neatly through the floor and into the room below.

~

An unnecessary detour, as it turned out. But attention to detail was a key part of any detective's toolbox. After scouring the warren of utilities, they rejoined the first floor via a small service staircase between the kitchen and the mess hall.

"Ugh," said Charles, wrinkling his nose as he investigated the new (since Edwin's time) glass-fronted serving station. "Can't believe the last thing I ever ate was school dinner. Didn't even finish it, it was that rank.

Edwin blinked at him, pausing in his inspection of the head table. "You were permitted to leave food on your plate? They excused you?"

"...I mean. Yeah?"

"Goodness," Edwin chuckled, shaking his head. "What a liberal time you lived in."

"Not that liberal, mate. Got beaten to death, remember?"

Edwin smirked. "Perhaps if you'd been disallowed from leaving until you'd cleared your plate, you might not have found yourself in the wrong place at the wrong time."

His deadpan achieved the desired effect. Charles laughed, a bright spot in the dreary gloom. "Right. Brills. Bob back in time and tell myself to choke down the sweetcorn, then."

"Wise course of action."

"Right." Charles lifted the lid of a pot that someone had forgotten to clear away, and mock-gagged. "Nope. Not worth it. I'll take death, cheers."

~

The dining hall turned up nothing. Nor did any of the offices, lounges and staff rooms. Their exploration of the first floor came and went with no discoveries or fanfare, and soon it came time to move on. To the central staircase, and the second floor where the majority of the classrooms presided.

Edwin felt his apprehension mounting with every step. Two floors of fruitless searching was starting to irk and unsettle him. He longed for something decisive; a supernatural feeling, an apparition, even a blood-curdling scream. It felt worse to worry incessantly with no stimulus, unable to prove there was anything amiss outside of his own childish fears.

"They've replaced the blackboards," Edwin commented upon entering the first room. Craving a discovery, a distraction, anything.

"Oh. Yeah, I remember – they started switching them out my last year here. Headmaster was mad about these shiny new things. Probably got whiteboards in every room, now." Charles squinted at the plastic panel with its chunky black frame. "These ones look different to what I remember, mind."

"What do you write on them with?"

"Pens. Special pens, like."

"Hm. Probably for the best. Chalk dust was bothersome. I always developed the most wretched cough when it was my turn to beat the erasers." Edwin found the pens attached to the board and picked one up. "Let's see. No lid..." He tried an experimental scribble. "And not a drop of ink. Dry as a bone." He eyed the branding on the whiteboard's frame, sceptical. "Smart Board, indeed."

"Don't think there's anything in here. Unless we're looking for something sucks the ink out of whiteboard markers." Charles took the pen from Edwin's hand, turning it over and inspecting it. "What d'you think? Some sort of ink vampire?" he said, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Don't see any fang punctures."

"I hardly think an ink vampire is what we're looking for," said Edwin, activating his torch and sweeping it in a wide arc. The abandoned classroom came into hazy, yellow-tinged relief under his beam. This had once been his English room, many decades ago. Save for the impractical board, it remained largely unchanged – although the wooden chairs had been replaced with ones of metal and plastic. The bookshelves at the back of the room remained in situ; the thick, leather-bound volumes of Edwin's time supplanted by new editions with glossy cardboard covers.

Edwin hadn't much cared for his English lessons. He was good at them, of course, and he loved reading. Since escaping hell, he'd revisited a number of the books he'd once studied. But his heart had always sunk whenever he was called on to stand before the board and read aloud for the class. The snickers and guffaws of the other boys, the mean-spirited whispers and unsubtle name-calling. The nancy boy's, the Mary Ann's, and far worse when teacher's back was turned. God forbid he was asked to read a sonnet.

The sting of the memory hadn't faded with time, but had taken on some light and shade in the wake of his travails in hell. In the jeering blur of faces, he could imagine Simon's swimming into focus. Was that mockery in his eyes, or pity? Recognition? And was he really the only one? The only other boy in that room who'd wanted to reach out to Edwin, and felt compelled to push him away instead?

How many of them had passed through this room, like living ghosts, lost to time and to shame?

A cold, iron fist of grief clutched him by the throat. So tangible it damn near bowled him over. He caught himself on a desk, lest he lose his grip on the physical plain and plummet through the very floor.

"Edwin?!" Charles was beside him in an instant, hand on Edwin's back. "Edwin, what's the matter?"

Edwin screwed his eyes shut, shaking his head. Trying in vain to dislodge the ice that had seized upon his very soul, but it held him fast. He shivered, and Charles rubbed his back as if Edwin could feel it; as if he could coax the warmth back into a dead, frozen thing.

"There's... there's something wrong," Edwin bit out – alarmed at the resistance he faced. It felt like he had to force the words through chattering teeth. "Do you feel it?"

Charles hesitated, before exhaling a shuddering breath. "Thought it was just me," he said quietly. "Y'know. How I get."

Ghosts were beings of trauma – and dying of hypothermia was fairly traumatic, to say the least. Charles couldn't feel warmth anymore, but he could certainly feel cold; and in times of distress it seemed to shroud him, clouding his speech in icy vapour.

A small pang of guilt pierced Edwin like a thorn; perhaps Charles had already been feeling the chill for some time, and hadn't deemed it worth a mention.

"No. No, it's not just you," said Edwin, reaching back to pat Charles on the arm with a hand that felt like a block of ice. "It's not just you at all."

Charles gave a lopsided, flimsy smile. "Dead comforting, mate. Come on, let's get you up. There we go."

With Charles' support, Edwin managed to regain his footing, but the feeling remained. It had settled upon his essence like a dense snowfall; all-shrouding, all-permeating. Chilling him to the figurative marrow.

"D'you think this is it? What that bloke was on about?" asked Charles, jerking his shoulders, rubbing his arms.

"Struggling to see what else it could be. Although he said nothing about a sense of cold..." Edwin rubbed his head, trying to think past the immediate, intense discomfort. An image came to mind, unbidden, of Niko across from him at a café table. The drinking straw dropping from her lips, her entire face crumpling as she clutched her head and cried out "brain freeze!". Had he any inkling of how distressing the sensation was, he might've said something more consolatory than he had at the time.

The secondary knife of grief at recalling her face twisted itself deep in his back, pressing so hard on his shoulders his knees nearly buckled.

"Well," he said, strained. "At least we know we're not on a wild goose chase. There's definitely something here." He rubbed his gloved hands together. A peculiarly vivid, instinctual muscle memory, leftover from the days when cold wasn't a distant memory. "We must continue the search. Let us check the desks while we're in here."

Charles gave a sharp nod, his face drawn, the first phantom wisps of breath creeping from his lips. Normally, Edwin would have offered his own coat to fend off the psychic, psychosomatic chill by now. But with Edwin likewise affected, it felt like any attempt to shrug out of the garment would be met by cracking and splintering. Spectral wool rendered asunder by devouring ice. For the first time, they were each as incapacitated as the other. Not a drop of warmth between their two dead, insubstantial forms to make a dent in the frost.

But their hands found one another, nonetheless. And it did make him feel better, warmer, even only infinitesimally.

There was something to be said for the placebo effect.

~

It was a long shot, hoping they might happen across some kind of obvious cursed artefact or hex doll in a pupil's desk in the first classroom they searched. Still, best to leave no stone unturned. In they end they had to concede that whatever it was they were looking for, they weren't going to find it in the English room.

They passed through the other classrooms in a similar fashion. Each presenting them with no evidence, but an abundance of unwelcome memories. The maths room, where Edwin had acquired a small scar on his jaw from a compass flung in his direction. The geography room, where he'd once been soundly caned for a book he'd 'defaced' – while the real culprits got off scot-free, of course. The old history study, where he'd often sought refuge of an evening. Where he'd tried to focus on the kindliness of the professor; and not on the unreadable, uncomfortable way he would sometimes sit and watch Edwin from across the room. Like he knew something about him. Like he had half a mind to bid him come closer.

The feeling, such as it was, seemed to bear down on them with every room checked, every memory unearthed. By the time they reached the stairs to the third floor, they were both near panting from exertion; wading through the empty corridors with all the ease of stomping through snow drifts.

"If it isn't even down here, what's it gonna be like when we're closer?" asked Charles, blowing on his hands and stomping his feet. He looked pale and peaky, his words and breaths escaping in ragged puffs of phantom condensation.

Edwin was faring no better. He felt tight in the chest, frayed in the nerves. The chill had penetrated so very deep, he had begun to hear it; like a cutting wind, like ice creaking under foot. Like a crackling, throbbing drone in the back of his consciousness.

There were two more floors of this wretched place left to investigate, and already he felt crushed under the avalanche of ill feeling and dreadful recollections. He was tired of dredging up things he'd worked for decades to put behind him. Tired of wading through this viscous mire of magic and memory. He wanted to leave. He wanted to be back at the agency, where it was calm and safe and the walls were imbued with a kinder history. He wanted to find whatever was causing this disturbance at once, and put this damnable case behind them!

He about-turned to face the end of the corridor – and there was the mirror. An ancient thing, ornate frame carved from finest mahogany. He remembered it well. A hundred years it must have stood there. More than a hundred – it had already been old in Edwin's time. It had survived well, save for a small patch of woodworm damage in the lower right corner. Edwin used to stand in front of it, sometimes, when the other boys were outside shooting clay pigeons or playing rugby. Used to gaze, forlorn, at his own reflection; wondering if there was a way to be anything but what he was.

There was no reflection now, of course. He'd seen his reflection only once in the last thirty-odd years; on his return to hell, his introduction to Lady Despair. He'd seen himself a hundred years on from this mirror, marred by filth and bloody gouges. So different to how he remembered. And yet still, always and forever, the same frightened little boy. Trapped and miserable; searching for a way out.

Don't... Don't...

A whisper on the gale, barely intelligible as words. Was the call coming from himself? Or from the thing they sought? It was impossible to know, but whatever it was, it was crying from the back of his soul. Clawing out, grasping for him with icy fingers of terror and desolation.

"Edwin?"

Charles' voice seemed to fade behind the whisper. Behind the steadily growing cacophony of creaking wood and shuddering glass. If this was real after all, and not just a trick of the mind, then this thing, whatever it was, could bring the entire blasted building tumbling down.

Edwin held his hand out to the mirror, no coherent thought behind the action. It was where he needed to be. Reaching out, reaching in, making contact with the space behind and between.

"Take me," he breathed. "Take me to the root of this."

"Edwin," Charles' voice came from far away. "Edwin, stop! You dunno what you're bloody walking into!"

No. He didn't know. But he needed to. He needed to find the cause, the catalyst, the beating heart under the floorboards. Needed to find the source of that cry – needed to know that it was external, and not a result of his own mind coming undone in this foul place. He reached to the mirror, through the mirror. Rigid glass parted for his fingers with a gentle ripple; the softly broken surface of a still pond. Calm waters, a silky embrace.

And then it gripped him tight, and dragged him under.

~

He was distantly aware of Charles' panicked cries, but they were cut off in moments as the mirror's surface froze over behind him.

Severed from the material plain, Edwin tumbled into freefall. Through that familiar trans-dimensional space behind the reflection; but it didn't feel familiar anymore. It felt tumultuous, violent. He toppled through the in-between space like Alice down the rabbit hole; twisted and turned, tossed from current to savage current. Beaten and battered from all sides by vigorous currents of nothing and everything and not-quite-almost-something. All the time followed by that whispering in his mind, growing in frequency and fervency: Don't. Don't. Don't leave...

And then he was through. Spat out without ceremony, without so much as a by-your-leave. He barely caught himself as he staggered back into the world – a cloud of thick, grey dust erupting under his skittering feet.

"Edwin?!"

Ah, there was Charles again. But he sounded different – smaller, further away, tinny. It took longer than Edwin would care to admit to realise he was hearing him through the walkie-talkie in his pocket.

"Edwin, where the fuck are you? The bloody mirror closed up behind you!"

Edwin fumbled for the device – an uphill struggle, with frozen fingers and a brain yet to cease spinning. It was even colder here, wherever here was. Sub-human temperatures. Had Edwin any blood, it would have flash-frozen in his veins. "Charles," he gasped, as he clumsily depressed the transmit button. "Charles, I'm here. I'm in one piece."

He released the button. Shortly afterwards, a static-clouded echo of Charles' incredulous laughter cut through the speaker.

"Oh, you fucking bastard," Charles blurted, with feeling. "You just went for it! You... you absolute wanker. We're meant to stick together, yeah? Fuck. Tell me where you are. What's it look like?"

"I'm..." Edwin blinked through the dust and dark, eyes adjusting. He didn't want to chance the torch until he knew for sure that he was alone. He squinted at the lines and surfaces illuminated by the feeble moonlight through the dirt-encrusted window. Piles of assorted dross and clutter, caked with dust. Ropes, shelves, broken chairs, ratty sports equipment and bedding...

Oh.

"Oh." He pressed the button. "Charles, I'm – I'm in the attic. The attic."

Charles' short, shocked breath whistled over the line. "Shit. Really?"

"Quite positive." He straightened up from his awkward stance, but couldn't find it in himself to dust off his coat. He moved stiffly, sluggishly; frozen down to his very ectoplasm. "Why would it bring me here...?"

"Edwin? Edwin, listen to me – just stay put, yeah?" Charles implored, his voice punctuated by hollow thumping. No doubt he was throwing himself up the stairs with reckless speed. "I'm coming to get you, I'm gonna leg it, just – don't move!"

"Don't wake up the entire school," Edwin countered, through chattering teeth. He received no response, so he put away the device with shaking hands and took stock of the situation. The space, like much of the school, had barely changed in the years since he'd last seen it. None of the clutter had been removed, only added to. New objects – including the large, cracked mirror Edwin had stumbled through – lay propped against the old. The only distinction between the two lay in the differing thickness of the covering dust.

He was alone, as far as he could tell. No people, no ghosts that he could see. But he didn't feel alone. He felt, in that sinking stone of dread in his stomach, that there was something else here. Something cold and desperate and far, far more lonely than he, and it was crying out to him. Tugging at his sleeve like a child. It wasn't a voice, as such, but it was a plea. It wanted him closer. It wanted him.

Don't move. Charles said not to move.

But his neck nonetheless craned of its own volition. Drawn towards the needling drone that he could neither hear not not hear. The sonorous buzz that cried out look at me look at me see me please see me. It seemed to grab him by the jaw and force his gaze over, over, to that same miserable pile of boxes and blankets where he'd once read Charles Rowland to his rest. No. No, not to the boxes or the blankets.

To the trunk.

He recalled it, dimly. The large black trunk with its brass clasps and corners. He'd perched atop it as he'd read to Charles. It still had his scrounged selection of dusty comics balanced on the lid.

The cry was coming from inside, he was certain of it.

Don't move. Don't move.

The floorboards groaned under his footsteps. He felt heavier, here. More tethered to the physical realm. To the strange call that gripped him by the collar and demanded he come closer, closer still. To the leather and wood under his gloved hands as he ran them over the chest, fingers trembling on the clasps.

Up close, the drone was no longer a drone. Had never been a drone. It was a rattle. A dry, endless rattle.

Wait for Charles. Please. Just wait for Charles.

Brass clicked. Leather creaked.

The trunk opened.

~

"Edwin?!"

Charles barrelled through the wall at speed, eyes wild, cricket bat brandished. He skidded to a halt that was near cartoonish; just before his momentum could carry him right across the small attic space and through the opposite wall.

It might have been amusing – were Edwin not currently beset by the notion that he may never laugh again so long as he continued to exist.

"Edwin?" Charles hollered. "Where are you?"

"I'm here." Edwin's voice was small, fragile despite his best efforts. He was struggling to support it.

Charles spun on his heel and dashed to Edwin's side. "Edwin! You scared the shit out of me! What're you thinking, blinking out on your own like that?!"

"I had a hunch. At least, I think I did..." He looked up – when had he sat down on the floor...? – and drank in the sight of Charles. He looked a bit like he might want to wallop Edwin with his cricket bat. Edwin had never seen a sweeter sight. "I'm sorry. You're right. I wasn't thinking."

Charles huffed, his face softened. "You? Not thinking?" Charles hunkered down beside him, bat across his knees, hand reaching out to palm across Edwin's shoulders. "What's going on with you, mate? I mean, I feel it too, but... it's really getting you, innit?"

"Yes," Edwin exhaled, voice shaking. "And I believe I know why."

"You found something?" Chales leaned in closer. "What? What did you find?"

Edwin closed his eyes, and slowly lifted the lid of the trunk once more. "Myself. In a manner of speaking."

He waited, focusing on the darkness behind his eyelids. He'd already seen the contents of the trunk, and he had no desire to see it again. No matter how mournful its cries to be seen.

A moment of silence passed, and then Charles swore, voice cracking around the expletive. "Oh, fuck. Edwin. Mate, I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry."

The weight lifted from Edwin's hand as Charles took hold of the lid of the trunk. Edwin gratefully relinquished it.

"Did you know these were up here?" asked Charles. He sounded close to tears, close enough that Edwin almost opened his eyes to look. He couldn't bring himself to, in the end.

Edwin shook his head. "I wasn't even aware they still existed. When that demon took me, it felt like... like my entire being crumbled into nothing. There couldn't have been anything left. I was sure of it..."

"Are we sure they're..." Charles cleared his throat. "Um..."

"Mine? Yes. It's... difficult to explain, but I can... feel them." Edwin held up his hand, and even through his glove he felt an answering prickle in his palm. "Like they're trying to... pull me back in. Like they've been waiting for me."

"Have they just been here all this time?"

"My death was labelled a disappearance. No remains. So... yes. I fear so." He breathed out a ragged sigh, turning his head to Charles before he risked opening his eyes. "Whoever's responsible likely sequestered them up here at the earliest opportunity."

Charle visibly blanched. "So these were here? When we – when I...?"

"When you died. Yes." Out of the corner of his eye, a sickening blot of ivory white. He kept his gaze resolute, fixed on Charles and only Charles. "I suppose they were."

They sat in silence, staring; Edwin at Charles, Charles at the wretched horror they'd unearthed. Edwin found himself, for once, quite speechless. One's thoughts tended to scatter, when faced with the grim sight of one's own withered bones. Tucked out of sight and out of mind, piled into a trunk in an attic and forgotten like a former child's abandoned toys.

Charles sniffed, shrugging his shoulders sharply. "We can't just leave them here," he said, adamant. "We – we need to take them, yeah? Leave 'em on the coppers' doorstep, prove what happened here."

Edwin shook his head. "I disappeared in nineteen sixteen, Charles. Without a trace. The very definition of a cold case. I know there's been significant advancements in the forensic sciences, but even if they were to glean some evidence, what would they compare it to? What in the world is there left to connect these bones to me?"

"They'll find something."

"Next to impossible."

"Don't you want people to know, Edwin?" Charles burst out, turning to look at him at last. There was rage burning in his eyes, his voice straining under the force of it. Not rage at Edwin, he didn't think. Just at the situation, at the unfairness of it. Frustration bubbling over. "You said it yourself; no one ever solved our cases. You could be the first. Show everyone what goes on here, tear this fucking place down."

"And if nothing gets done, Charles?" Edwin snapped back. "We don’t trust the police for good reason. If we hand this new evidence to the them on a silver platter and they bury it again, what then?"

He regretted his outburst in an instant when Charles fell silent. Guilty, grief-stricken. It was a horrible expression on his face, far worse than the anger, and Edwin immediately despised himself for putting it there.

Edwin sighed. He couldn't look Charles in the eye. But he could reach out, tentatively nudge his hand with the back of his own. A little bit of the ugly rift healed when Charles accepted the olive branch without question. He wrapped his fingers around Edwin's and squeezed – for all the good it did them.

"My parents are long gone, Charles," said Edwin, when he'd gathered himself. He kept his eyes trained on Charles' thumb, and the way it traced small circles on the back of Edwin's hand. With their gloves in the way, Edwin could almost pretend that was the only reason he couldn't feel the gesture. "Every relative I ever knew, everyone who could possibly miss me. And the boys who did this..."

He thought of the massacre that preceded his own abduction. Thought of Simon, rotting in that dingy pocket of hell, textbook pages tarred with tears and blood.

Edwin closed his eyes. "Everyone who could've been punished for this has been. I've... I've no more closure to gain."

The truth of the statement came as a surprise even to him, but he couldn't deny it. Everyone who would have cared to know what happened was long, long gone. The best he could hope for was a black mark on the school's record, a curious obituary in the local news.

Charles huffed, but he didn't argue again. "Alright. Alright, mate." He extracted his hand from Edwin's to put it on his neck, just briefly. Just holding his face a moment, almost as he had on that very long staircase some months ago. He cracked a barely-there smile. "It's your bones, innit? Your rules."

Edwin returned it, weak, but grateful. Too exhausted even to think about their proximity, about the intimacy of the gesture. He hadn't a single thought except for how dearly he'd like to sink into it and let Charles carry him, now. Let him take over, just for a little while.

"We can't just leave 'em here, though," said Charles, with a glance daring Edwin to argue.

"No," Edwin agreed, somewhat feeble. He didn't want to look at them; and yet, paradoxically, he'd never wanted to look at anything more. He looked at Charles instead, drawing comfort from his familiar countenance. "No, I suppose we can't."

Charles stared into the trunk a moment longer, a soft, ethereal glow playing on his fine features. Why the bones seemed to be possessed of their own faint light, Edwin couldn't possibly begin to guess. Nor could he guess why they'd altered the spectral temperature so drastically. Or why the chill had alleviated somewhat, the very moment he'd opened the box and looked upon them. Under Charles' gaze, the thaw was even more profound. Edwin could almost be fooled into thinking himself warm.

Upon looking away from the bones, Charles met Edwin's gaze. And he held it, steady as a rock, as he pulled his hand from Edwin's neck and reached into his own coat. A burst of static broke the silence.

"Crystal," said Charles, holding the walkie talkie up to his face. "Crystal, you hear me? Over."

"Yeah, Charles, I hear you," came her voice – the signal was weak, but stable enough. "And you don't actually have to say 'over'."

"What? 'Course I do, that's the whole point of – actually? Doesn't matter right now. Crys, need you to do us a favour. Go home."

"What–?!"

"Back to the office, I mean," he rushed out. "Run back and dig out that other mirror from the spare room. The proper big one, should be buried somewhere. Probably under the surfboards."

"You guys have surfboards...?" She made a noise of indignation. "Wait, and a spare room?! I slept on that stupid couch for two weeks!"

"Have a go at us later, yeah? Just – right now, please, go dig it out, and put it in the office, alright? Please, Crys." He scanned the trunk with his eyes. "Somewhere with lots of space in front."

"Ugh, fine. But Charles – what's going on?"

"We found what we were looking for." He closed his eyes, and then the trunk – and Edwin wondered if he, too, could hear the plaintive cry in the back of his mind when he fastened the clasps, committing the bones once more to darkness. "And we've got something important to shift. Over and out."

~

Reeeaaally hope you liked it! Any thoughts? I'm still in the process of pulling together the rest of the story, but I think it'll probs be 3 chapters overall, could really use the motivation to get the tricky second chapter into shape! Some commentary! - not much Crystal in this chapter but I promise more of her in 2/3! - writing them bobbing through floors and things was SO fun, I get that it adds a whole load of special effects they need to budget for but I think the show should have more fun with them walking through walls lmao - the weird history professor is kind of inspired by Hector from the History Boys. Which, if you've never seen it, is a play/movie about a bunch of boys whose favourite teacher is also, well, kind of a fucking creep. It's sort of a dark comedy and honestly just really interesting with the way it depicts this bizarre relationship, the way this person in these teens' lives is objectively doing something Shitty to them but he's still their favourite because he also supports them and inspires them and makes learning fun and, in Posner's case, makes him feel less alone in his queerness. I didn't put him in to imply that in the canon of this fic, Edwin has actually been sexually abused - but the Hector-type character slotted rather neatly into the strange culture of this setting and this era. It just added another little layer of tragedy I couldn't resist. Another queer person in Edwin's immediate vicinity, warped by the repression and loneliness of the time into another potential abuser/antagonist, and unfortunately irresistible despite the red flags. - as mentioned in the intro notes, s/o to Ande for the Charles' misty breath idea! It wasn't originally gonna feature in this fic but then it slotted in so perfectly I had to borrow it! Everyone say thank you Ande for immediately coming up with the most banger headcanons like 5mins into joining the fandom. - I know the popular headcanon is ghosts can't feel stuff but CAN feel other ghosts, and while I generally subscribe to that it doesn't fit this fic for Reasons. Bear with me! - the bones in the attic is from the comics. I haven't actually read the main DBDA comics, but I've read the issue of Sandman they initially appear in. I'm assuming the show isn't doing the bones in the attic, since it looks like Edwin disappeared completely and all the boys who sacrificed him got killed, but it had such delicious angst potential I wanted to do my own take on how it could work in the show and that's basically what kicked off this fic! The ideas have been developing as I write though and the shape has changed a lot from my initial idea! Anyway, that's enough out of me, I've babbled enough today 😅 But I hope you liked this, please consider dropping us a comment if you did! Or come talk to m, honestly, I'm just excited about these guys and wanna yap xD Hopefully get the next chapter out in the next couple of weeks or so, but chapter 2 is probs gonna be the most awkward one bc it's the one where my ideas need to most work to string together! Until next time! 💛

[werewolfnightwalker]

De-aged Keigo

Part two!

.

The whole League stared as Dabi stepped through the villa's front door, his arms protectively wrapped around his cargo.

"What have you got there, Dabi?" Compress asked.

"The hell does it look like?" Dabi snapped back, tightening his arm around the bedraggled, winged boy in his arms as he stomped the snow off his boots, "It's Hawks."

"Uh… Hawks is a grown man, bro!" Twice pointed out.

"Thanks, Sherlock, I didn't realize." Dabi stopped just inside the living room, keeping his distance from the others, "He got hit by a de-aging Quirk while we were out. It's not going to last forever, but for the moment our little birdie is three years old." He looked down at the boy in his arms, his heart twinging.

Hawks was clinging to him like he was terrified of being put down, his face buried in Dabi's collar and clawed hands fisted in the back of his jacket. Even now that they were inside, the pitiful thing was shivering violently. Although his eyes were closed, his whole body was tense, alert; he was pretending to sleep, and Dabi assumed it was to avoid having to meet the others.

He couldn't say he blamed him; it had been difficult to get him to trust him when the Quirk first hit him, an hour or so ago. Hawks had panicked and ran away from him, only to faint once he got outside, from- as far as Dabi could figure out- a mix of hunger and the cold. Dabi had picked him up from there, and spent the whole walk back reassuring him that he was a friend. When he mentioned getting Hawks some food, the kid had finally seemed to give up struggling.

Good to know his younger self was as much of a glutton as his adult self, Dabi had mused. Now, he strode past everyone and made for the kitchen, shouldering the door open.

"Wait, where are you going? I wanna see him!" Toga cried, and Dabi felt Hawks flinch.

"Keep your voice down and your hands to yourself." He snapped over his shoulder, "I'm getting him some food. If you want to be useful, go get me some warm clothes he can wear."

He ignored Toga's grumbling as he slipped into the kitchen, kicking the door shut behind him. "Hey, little bird." He spoke softly as he looked down at his armload, "We're alone now, you can stop faking. I'm going to put you down, okay?" That said, he stepped up to the counter and gently lowered Hawks onto it, until his rump hit the granite countertop. He tried to move away, but Hawks held fast, letting out a shaky whimper.

"Cold-" He gasped, gilded eyes flying open in panic.

For some reason, Dabi couldn't stop himself from immediately pulling him back into his arms. "Alright, alright." He sighed as Hawks melted against him again. He… supposed he could make something to eat like this. He adjusted Hawks onto his hip and went to the pantry to see what they had. "How does ramen sound?" He asked.

Hawks didn't answer, but Dabi pulled two of the instant cups out and put them on the counter. He had to tear the top off with his teeth, but it was easy to turn the sink on and stick the cup under it to fill it. He stuck the cup in the microwave and stepped back, leaning on the counter to wait.

"You okay, birdie?" He asked, glancing down into the fluffy head of hair on his shoulder.

Hawks made a sad warbling sound, his wings fluffing and settling. "I'm okay." He mumbled, just as his stomach growled loudly.

"Uh-huh. Just hang on, food's cooking." Dabi promised, glancing up as he heard the door open. Twice, Spinner, and Toga were peering at them through a crack in the door. Dabi bared his teeth at them, but the numbskulls didn't seem to get the clear "fuck off" message.

"Hiii, Hawksie!" Toga cooed. Hawks turned his head to peer at her, his hand fisting on Dabi's shoulder. He didn't answer her, but Dabi didn't step in, waiting to see what he'd do.

"Oh… he's precious! I wanna eat him!" Twice gasped.

Hawks whimpered at that, his wings bushing and curling around him. "No one is eating you, birdie." Dabi assured him, just as the microwave went off. He stood up and pulled the cup out before grabbing a fork and stirring it. He tore the flavor packet open, once again with his teeth, and added it before giving it another stir. "Okay, here, bug. Eat." He pushed the cup into his hand before adjusting his grip on him.

"How come you get to hold him?" Twice complained.

"Because I'm not creeping on him while he's trying to eat." Dabi huffed.

"Dabi's warm." Hawks mumbled into his noodles, surprising Dabi and the others.

"Exactly." Dabi said smugly, "You lot scram, let the kid eat in peace." He walked over to the door and forced it shut with his boot, ignoring their complaints as he looked down at Hawks. "Enjoying your noodles, birdie?"

"Mhm." Hawks gulped up a mouthful, before twirling another portion onto his fork and holding it up, offering it to Dabi.

Dabi dutifully leaned in and took the bite, slurping the noodles into his mouth loudly.

To Dabi's amazement, Hawks giggled, before seeming startled by his own action. He fluffed his wings and looked away, like he was embarrassed, but Dabi watched him as he took another bite of noodles and 𝘴𝘭𝘶𝘶𝘶𝘳𝘱𝘦𝘥 them up, too.

After a few more bites, he glanced at Dabi again. "Who are they?" He asked.

"Who?"

"The girl, and the man in the mask, and the turtle?"

"He's a lizard." Dabi corrected.

"Are they your friends?"

"Uh… in a sense." He wasn't about to tell a kid they were a bunch of villains, now was he? "What about you? You got any friends?"

Hawks didn't answer right away, raising the cup and gulping down the broth. Dabi just waited, moving to open and prep the other instant cup. He had filled it with water and jammed it in the microwave by the time Hawks finished.

"I have one." He said at last.

His doll, Dabi guessed; he'd seen the ragged, old thing one of the times they'd spent the night at his apartment. He'd made his distaste for the thing a little too obvious, so Hawks had shoved into his closet and apologized, explaining that it was just sentimental.

"Yeah? What's their name?" He asked, anyways.

Hawks cooed, before the noise morphed into a yawn. His wings arched and quivered as his mouth stretched wide. He slumped back onto Dabi's shoulder, scrubbing at suddenly sleepy eyes. Dabi was taking the empty cup away when he spoke. "His name is Touya. He's warm, like you." He mumbled.

Dabi froze, the cup incinerating in his hand in seconds as the fork fell to the floor with a ringing clatter. "Touya, huh?" He repeated weakly, before he swallowed. He didn't think that Hawks- that Keigo- had remembered him at all. "Is he a good friend?"

"Mhm." Keigo hummed as the microwave went off, "I think I love him."

Touya thought he forgot how to breathe, his mind flashing through unwanted memories, both ancient and recent. "Well… I'm sure he loves you, too."

End.

A/N: Thank you for reading! I love childhood friends AUs. ^w^ There's a part 2 to this that I'll upload tomorrow, but until then, consider leaving me a tip so I can get my name changed!

[empressofmankind]

The House Always Wins

[Crocodile x F!OC]

One line, two fics.

I had the absolute delight to see the draft of @tiredemomama her new fanfic about Zeff. And I loved this brief exchange so much:

“I don’t pay you to take naps on the line.” "You don't pay me at all."

I had to make my own.

Mine is significantly shorter (~500 words), but no matter. It'll no doubt get a longer version down the line. There are plans. I just had to get this one image out of my system right now.

Featuring Crocodile and Shivs when their relationship was still a ways from wrecking on the shoals. We're at Rain Dinners, Rainbase, Arabaste, about a decade ago, just like in 'Hooked On You.' What else do you need to know? Shivs is terrible at sitting on her hands, and can often be found at the tables as a poker dealer as a result. She can, and will, toss you if you give her shit at her table. One of their high roller didn't like it and took it up with the boss. That was surely a mistake.

Tag(s): Gambling. Language. Sexual tension. Obsessive behaviour. Don't you wish his impulse control was worse than it is? I know I do.

🐊 🐊🐊

Crocodile’s gaze swept across the casino floor, effortlessly finding her table. Two rows over, near the bar - thirteen. Shivs’d single-handedly made the number popular. She was dealing to a full round, smoking, talking to their patrons as she tossed the deck. Her table was always popular, and why shouldn't it be? She was a skilled dealer, and her casually personable manner and bold cheek exerted a magnetic pull on everyone around her. Even him.

She laughed then, a rolling thing full of good cheer, sweet on his ears, and for someone else. The gluttonous creature slumbering within him stirred from its sleep.

The patrons seated at the table shifted when they saw him approach. He could tell the regulars from the fresh faces by their manner - the former reclined back in their seats, the latter leaned forward. Shivs paid him no heed, though he was not foolish enough to think she hadn't noticed.

He leaned across her shoulder as he came up behind her, his hand resting on her hip. “I don't pay you to bother our high rollers into bothering me.”

“You don't pay me at all,” she said, dealing their patrons their two cards without missing a beat.

“Are you sure?” he rumbled in her ear as his fingers skimmed the crease of her inner thigh.

“Wanna join? Leo was just leaving.” She indicated the lanky man sitting directly to her left. A smooth recovery, but not smooth enough. He'd caught the little roll of her shoulders as she suppressed a pleasant shudder. She was a needy thing, and he greedily devoured every response he could coax from her.

“Why not,” he said and straightened, giving her firm butt a good squeeze before parting. The patron vacated their seat promptly, and a chip runner came over as he settled in it.

“Don't blind bet the rest of them under the table immediately.”

On a tone like that, there was no way he wouldn't. Though he took his sweet time, lighting a cigar and enjoying its taste before pushing the stack of chips up the table with two fingers.

“A'right. Gentlemen,” Shivs said as she put the community cards face down on the board. “This is a big boys' game now. No checks. Keep up or clear out.”

Near half the table folded and made a quiet exit. However, there were more than enough willing to take their vacated seats.

“Want a new hand or think you can crawl out of Leo's terrible luck?” she said when everyone had made it through the preflop.

“Luck?” Crocodile scoffed with a huff of smoke.

“Suit yourself, big shot.” 

The cheek in the glance she tossed him made him consider bending her over the table. The ravenous beast pacing within the confines of his ribcage rumbled agreement as a smile twitched around his cigar.

Perhaps in a bit, he thought as he contemplated his cards.

🐊 🐊🐊

Horny hell seat reservations - @ruledbyproblematique @littlemountainwolf @fanaticsnail

[chuckeroo777]

Dungeon Meshi Volume 8 Part 3

Welcome back! Let's finish up volume 8. We got some real juicy content, so let's get started.

Yes, I am using this in every post from now on. Why wouldn't I? It's perfect.

I mean, you saw his tall-man form. Was that the face of a happily married man? Yes.

So much to talk about here. First, who is the person at the top? Dandan is the only former party member not shown, but he seemed to be positively inclined to Laios.

Second, does the quaver indicate an active relationship? Honestly, it does not feel out of character for Laios to think he and Shuro have something deep. Shame it never goes well in any universe.

Also, I wonder how Chilchuck would classify his relationships if he included them here.

What's the story there? I'd guess the parents set up an arranged marriage or something, but you both left when you were pretty young. Please don't tell me Asivia actually managed to trick you into something.

There is so much to glean from this title page, but this bit intrigues me. Where is the royal grave? They aren't talking about the graveyard with the dryads, are they? Surely the graveyard in the castle town is for nobility, and the royalty interred somewhere within the castle? Granted, I don't know much about graveyards. Is this supposed to foreshadow post-canon events? Or is this just a joke about Senshi giving him the ol' birds and bees.

Also, Chilchuck's strongest relationship is with Laios, and I find that heartwarming.

:( She isn't lying. She has eaten rats. Back when she was a slave, she would eat anything she could catch.

Well, I think you're a good boy Laios.

See what I mean about them having a respectful relationship? As soon as Chilchuck expresses he isn't comfortable, Laios jumps in to do it instead.

Gluttons and Dragons!

If you were curious why Chilshi is so popular, here you go. The one piece of canon evidence.

Haha, get it? Cause she's gay? Bisexual actually, but that still falls under pride.

We went with Infidelity for the seventh sin, cause we really didn't want to watch Laios lust over the bicorn. Also, looks like someone else needs a lesson on stamens and pistols.

If good and evil are defined dubiously, then how the hell is that defined?

When your friend is being vague, so you out all of their secrets through the medium of interpretive self-insert fanfiction where you roleplay as their estranged wife.

Ha-HA! You fools thought he was a deadbeat dad, but all this stuff went down AFTER they left the nest! Also, oddly enough, the anime changed his confession in the griffon episode to say 'kids', so this joke won't hit as hard.

Plus, they're extremely merchandisable.

Laios may be a troll, but Chilchuck is the one trolling him.

Oh hey, here they are. I guess their first appearance isn't them dead in a nightmare. That's nice.

And that's it for volume 8! Join me next time as we look at Volume 9, which oddly is the only volume with six chapters, but they are some of my favorites, so oh boy!

[missmarveledsblog]

Oh boy (Dean Winchester x Reader) part 4

Summary: race to say a dear friend and getting used to something she tried so hard to get away from again only to end up with more than just a hunt it was now a baby sitting gig with some podcasters .

Warning : none really some feel is about it and goofy humour , slow burnish , age gap , fluffy fun

previously on oh boy!

Maybe she wasn't thinking rational , or she was too emotional about the situation . None of that was stopping the fact or determination to get into those woods and shake a good friend of hers for the stupid thinking when he was one person she opened up to it all . that not all was it seemed , that there could be more beneath the surface . lou took her in when she sat in the diner crying over the fact she was pregnant , uncertain future in something she only ever knew . He was close to her as family , he was the one that helped her get that little house . Lou was like a father she never thought she needed just like bobby. Now he was going against forces he had no experience with , to put himself in such danger she knew she was gonna kick his ass when she found him .. if she found him .

“ We need to wait til tomorrow they hunt at night you know this” dean tried to rationalise .

“ So are the men that went to find it .. they’re good people and he is important to me “ she pulled the things from her bag to place in a rucksack and knocked on the door that had them alert .

“ It's just kenny i got him get me a supplies and car if you weren’t coming” she said easily heading to the door long haired man stood handing over duffle bag .

“ sweet pea what's a little girl like you gonna do in the woods” the man laughed only to stop by the look on dean and sam's face only to gulp .

“ Kenny sweetie i know we do the back and forth but this is not the time thank you for the things” she nodded less seriously almost panicking in her town. “ you guys coming or ?” She walked out the door .

“ fuck .. shit wait your the winchester brothers .. man i'm a big fan since i saw you guys on hellhound lair and ghostfacers “ he was almost swooning zt the sight of the brother excitedly babbling of the other things he had researched about the brothers .

“ y/n wait” sam sighed ignoring the fanboy grabbing his coat while dean grabbed his things .

“ holy fucking shit your one of them , i knew it , i knew you had this msecret identity thing going on “ the man was almost bubbling , ready to float off excitedly.

“ kenny go home” she patted his cheek while the brothers walked out with her locking the rooms as they went to the impala .

“ Can you guys do an interview on my podcast?... guys …y/n ” he called .

The ride was quiet, they were hypersensitive and watching everything around as they drove , the only time she really spoke was when she was telling him where to go. She was hoping for once it wasn't the worse outcome , that for once she had gotten a break in life and yet she was also preparing for the worst . They had no idea how big the wendigo den was or how many there were . a rough guess could be made as the creatures were greedy gluttonous things not known for the social expectations or large volumes given if the food source is available they will turn and eat each other. but one was too many , the rational part of her knew this was stupid , knew these things were best hunters on the planet but at night it was a whole different level , that skill was amped up to exceptional . the other part of her brain didn't care this was her family not by blood but that was her family regardless.

“ you stay close , stay together,” dean called .

“ I know , i’m not an idiot” she rolled her eyes .

“ You want to go hunt wendigo at night should i say anymore “ he smirked eye locked with hers through the rearview mirror .

“ maybe you should say less “ Sam winced seeing her glaring at his brother .

“ So this lou guy is something going on between you two , we don’t judge “ dean asked .

“ That's not less” Sam pinched the bridge of his nose .

“he helped me out gave me a job , got me a home , if it wasn't for him me and mikey would of been on street or worse i owe that man a lot for how he took care of us but it not romantic or anything like that or trying to get into my pants it just type of person lou is , to put other before himself hence why he out in the wood right now to make sure people would safer than caring for his own safety “ she explained feeling the tears gathering at her waterline . wiping them away she turned her head to hide her emotions but he could see it , could see how important this was for her .

“ We will do our best ok” Sam promised knowing he couldn’t give her another promise . He couldn't tell her because they knew too well it could go either way .

stepping outside the car the cold , crisp air wrapping around them . the trucks of the other parked up at the edge of the woods. She could see their boot prints in the dirt counting the party as at least five of them . She could tell who the four were from the trucks alone . all experienced conventional hunters , ones that did it for trophies and food and yeah still over their heads on what was actually to come. These creatures could make a grizzly bear look like a kitten, that was for sure . grabbing her things, each brother took her the duffle bag as well as the rucksack, making her roll her eyes , pulling out the katana walking sandwiched between the two brothers taking the trail , one she took so many times and now with a new purpose. This was no ordinary situation and the ordinary was never gonna exist again or it was never really there, only something she convinced herself . This could be the end or start of everything she tried to stay away from . high alert , senses needed to be open and aware of everything around . walking through the woods the crunch of foliage and twigs breaking under their boots . the smell of damp and nature mixing together . eyes scanning the trees , listening for everything and anything . What was strange was missing was sound , nothing could be heard whether it be animals or bug the placquits deathly quiet. it was almost deafening , to fuel a hypervigilance fueling in the depths of her . walking for what seemed like hours before a sign that anyone

else had been in the forest other than then was the claw mark deep set in the tree making the sap within seep out like a wound , sticky on her fingers before walking a little further , she felt a shudder at broke branches , bushes and disturbed ground and a dark puddle that confirmed her fears . It was blood and a lots of it .

“ y/n” the voice called to someone less experience , to one with the blissful ignorance it would of worked but as she dealt with them before , she could tell the difference its a little change in the tone almost automatic , less genuine as she stood straighter and almost taller.

“ it's not him” dean reassured her gently .

“ i know , it taunting me , it hunted me down and now its taunting me “ she gritted only the rustle of leaves made her turn, swinging the blade stopping inches at the throat .

“ please don't kill me even if this is badass,” he gulped .

“ kenny what the actual fuck” she sigh putting the blade down as the two appeared from behind the man.

“ we want in on the action we can boost our viewership and listeners” the woman spoke up .

“ what shelby mean to say is if you would let us accompany you” another spoke up .

“ well kenny , Shelby and whoever you are … go home now” dean scoffed.

“ markcus and we kinda can't “ he winced .

“ Why can't you “ sam arched his brow.

“ we kinda lost our map and no service on our cells” kenny explained sheepishly and yet the two mens eyes kept darting to y/n shyly .

“ yeah not happening its too dangerous “ she shook her head taking the words straight from the der winchesters mouth .

“ You can’t leave not when it like so dangerous” shelby whined moving closer to the guys .

“ well then you shouldn't came what are you his aunt or ..” y/n head tilted.

“ im same age as your dad im not that old plus arent you a little young to be out late “ shelby pointed at dean .

“ im not her dad… do i look old enough to be her dad” dean panicked looking to his brother.

“ oh shit you must be her uncle “ kenny held his hand out.

“ he thinks i'm bobby” he baulked.

“ hes not my uncle , he's mikey dad “ she rolled her eyes another rustle turning her attention .

“Y/n “ the voice called around them repeating over and over .

“ We should help” Marcus walked forward only for her hand to land on his chest shaking her head as she and the brother looked around them ready to attack an unseen force .

“ its not a person “ y/n spoke finally seeing a flash of the creature in the darkness , grabbing the duffle bag pulling out light as well as the battery , making the area light up before pulling out masks and handing them to those around. Sam was impressed with how prepared she was while the rest were just confused as hell . stepping forward ignoring the whispers or the hissing of the others she kept herself in full concentration almost calculated . in a blink of an eye and it hit the ground as she went back to the duffle bag pulling out lighter fluid and a blow torch . setting it alight while the rest of them tried to rationalize what happened within mere seconds only for Shelby to begin screaming at the top of her lungs . the shrill sound as y/n stomped over clamping her hand over the woman's mouth .

“ You want more of them to come, “ she growled pointing to the burning creature as the woman shook her head . “ Shut up then”.

“ Holy shit that was hot” Kenny almost sighed looking at the woman as Dean nodded not realising til he noticed Marcus nodding too and not really liking the man's attention on the mother of his child. was he jealous, why was he jealous , what was happening with him .

After an hour without a word they walked more into the woods along with the trio to her dismay but even she couldn't deny it would have been dangerous to the podcast crew to fend for themselves . She did notice the female member keeping closer to the Winchester brothers, mainly Dean making her roll her eyes as the woman was clearly trying to get his attention using the guise she was scared and he was a big strong man. The rambles and talking honestly was getting tiresome while the two men were asking her questions about everything. She fell back taking her spot beside Sam who honestly was a bit relieved for her company .

“ Pretty smart with the masks and stuff” he smiled sincerely .

“ It's good to be prepared , to get your sense right especially when you need to make it home , plus it attacked my child twice” she said easily.

“ Aren't you a little young to have a child?” Shelby asked, her voice filled with judgement.

“yeah let's not say that “ dean coughed.

“ Mikey is great kid , so smart too” kenny smiled brightly.

“ How old is he?” Marcus stepped back trying to get her attention .

“ Four , kenny's mom watched him from time to time “.

“ So wait, how old are you? ” Shelby cut in .

“ Let's not go into that either,” Dean shrugged.

“ So are you two like together or .. “ she asks again ignoring how quiet it went .

“ So you guys have a podcast “ sam asked looking around awkwardly.

“ yeah we got like 5k listeners so fair which is awesome” kenny nodded .

“ We hope with you guys we can get more,” Marcus smiled .

“ plus picture wise of you alone , would blow us up “ shelby almost purred.

“ yeah y/n would definitely boost our ratings “ kenny grinned dreamily of the female hunter.

“ not what i meant plus you guys have me” she giggled batting her lashes .

“ you sure we can’t just leave them here” y/n whispered making sam snort .

“ Be nice” he warned .

“ I can't promise anything” almost sing song walking ahead.

stopping for the night to much of her protest once more giving the others were tired they set up the tents only there were only two . At first she was going to suggest two girls share a tent but in reality she would rather sleep in the den than subject herself to Sam suggesting they stick to their own groups while Dean took the first watch . She couldn’t sleep it was last thing on her mind giving everything that had happened in such a shorts space of time , how life flipped upside down and now she was tossing and turning before sitting up throwing the first thing she could see and heading out the tent not seeing the younger winchester smirk or the fact he left his brothers shirt in the space closest to her.

“ hey mind if i join” the voice made him look up from the makeshift creature free fire illuminating her to him as well as the moon cascading on her skin .

“ shouldn't you be sleeping” he moved over giving her space to join anyway despite his question .

“ kinda hard to do at the moment” she shrugged pulling the shirt more on her body looking down at the flames . “ what ?” she could feel his eyes on her not sure why.

“ is that my shirt? “ the slight break in his voice as he coughed to cover it up .

“ don't know it was cold and closest thing to me want it back “ she went to pull it off of her shoulders only for him to stop her shaking his eyes , getting lost in each other . eyes locked something that almost pulling the two closer with each second.

“ hey im cold too” a voice called one of shelby's.

“ you have a blanket it use it” y/n called making a scoff sound only for the two to burst out laughing.

“ you got a fan it looks like” she nudge him playfully .

“ i knew you liked me really “ he teased copying her action .

“ i mean the queen of the podcast in there , im still on the fence “.

“ says the one with the fanclub” he snorted.

“ i’m adorable and violent its works” she mused.

“AND HOT”

“ Shut up kevin no one asked “ .

“ its kenny “ he called almost more quite tone than before.

“ be nice mikey thinks kenny is cool and his friend , your son really likes him “ she warned albeit still playful nature.

“ and what about you do you think hes cool?”

“ he is a little , i mean he got me a survival kit so late at night “ she mused.

“ ok that is a little cool “ he whispered not wanting the man to hear the praise. “ but i think your probably the coolest one here” he added.

“ go sleep you cool kid” sam shook his head as he walked out making her laugh and salute the man .

“ your probably the coolest” sam side eyed his brother.

“ what she is “ he shrugged .

“ oh there pie in the duffle bag” she poked her head out of the tent .

“ See cool “ Dean cheered, grabbing the bag seeing the box rubbing his hand together .

“ i can't wait to see this unfold “ sam thought looking between the tent and his brother .maybe it was just the fact of the situation but he had a feeling his brother was finding himself thinking the woman differently .

the sun was beginning to peak in through the tent when she began to stir , the sound of annoying tone that was the female podcaster asking where dean was , then in that instance of feeling a weight alone her midsection . the sound of the zipper opening and intrusion she quickly shut her eyes playing like she was still asleep only to hear a groan from behind her , the raise of the body behind her and a hush tone .

“ Can you shut that she is still asleep” the deep gravel tone that had her fighting against the shudder that threatened to come and an annoyed huff and movement for more light to invade the tent . the intrusion hitting too quick and making her shift to move out it rays making the man move quickly in turn .

“ why am i being blinded “ she whined, going to grab something to cover her eyes only to feel a hard wall of skin , maybe she moved her hand along it a little longer before grabbing the shirt to cover her face .

“ Sorry sweetheart, come on, I left you a slice of pie “ a deep chuckle as she sat up slowly just in time to see the bottom half of the abs she was surely feeling, making her gulp .

“ if a wendigo doesn't ,

take me out , this man surely we “ she thought to herself as she stretched throwing her boots on and heading out to see a pissed shelby and four men smiling directly at her . “ I heard there was pie”.

“ you didn't eat the whole thing” sam mouth fell open , “ oh shit that was yours” kenny’s eyes widened fearfully.

“ God dammit kevin” dean scoffed .

“ hey i have some snack and coffee” sam chuckled seeing the pout on her lips perking up to his words.

“ you are my saviour “ she cooed, ruffling his hair .

“ so what’s the plan” kenny asked almost sweetly as he wiped his face .

“ the plan is we go and you guys wait outside unless you wanna do the whole martyr thing for the 5k listeners “ she bit into the protein bar .

“ yeah outside is good “ Marcus gulped.

“ i went hunting with my dad and even shot a grizzly i can do this," Shelby shrugged easily .

“ I mean if you really want to, I'm not stopping you … I'm joking “ she laughed as brothers looked at her. “ kinda “ she yawned .

“ So you're like James Bond except instead of a super spy you're like a super paranormal hunter ? “ Kenny spoke up .

“ retired hunter , this is just one and done, “ she smiled sadly. Was it weird that she was gonna miss it , even though it was high risk and anything could happen. it was also a big part of her life for so long but she didn’t think she would have found herself almost enjoying it. but it was as she said one and done , she had something bigger waiting for her after this , she had a life that just couldn’t fit in with the other .

“ you ok ? “ sam nudged her , holding a cup out for her .

“ yeah course just missing mikey “ she smiled taking the cup and a grateful sup . " we should get going soon " she announced .

" oh I need like an hour before to get ready " Shelby called .

" you sure we can't just leave her in the cave for a bit ...what i was joking ... kinda"

Taglist @msrawog

[deadghosy]

FTM! OC x DEMON! READER

WARNING: MICHEAL LORE, BODY/GENDER DYSMORPHIA , SWEET FLUFF

𝐍𝐎 𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒 𝐏𝐎𝐕

MICHEAL SIGHED, he hated this month. He hated it with all his heart. Waking up to see blood on his boxers, it made him sick as he realized why he kept getting headaches lately. Every time it's that time of the month, it makes him feel as if he wasn't who he is now. "Miya Chi..." someone who he doesn't know anymore, he only knows Micheal Chi. Of course his mom was and is supportive..but he hated the feeling of looking into the mirror shirtless and seeing those light scars under his chest. He hated it. He hated the feeling of being disgusted by his own body. He hated looking at himself sometimes, sometimes his body reminds him of 'her'.

The person he was before anything else, he didn't know why. He felt so weird. Micheal looked in the cabinet of the bathroom to find no pads, with a scoff he slammed them close. God, those cramps were rising in the boy's lower body. The poor male gripped his guy as tears prick his eyes, threatening to spill as he groans softly. His menstruation cramps were always the worst, he hadn't even noticed a simple demon smelling the smell of blood from afar. [Y/N] knocked on the bathroom door worried. "Hey, you okay Mimi?" Asked the demon who stood crossing their arms, worried for the male behind the door.

"No...I need...pads." Micheal said, slightly embarrassed as he flushed the toilet. "Pads?? Need pads for what??" [Y/N] thought before nodding outside of the door and going to get Ms.Chi on the house phone. After explaining the "symptoms" to the elder lady, Ms. Chi delivered groceries through DoorDash to the house. Not even saying a word. Micheal had a robe over his body when he heard the door bell rang in the house. His mom had texted him about  the supplies that got sent to the house.

Micheal rushed out the bathroom with a flushed face, embarrassed for what the demon might see. The robe covering every inch of his body and pushing [Y/N] away from the Walmart bag. [Y/N] stood there shocked before the male entered the bathroom, a ripping noise was made as the light in the bathroom turned off. Micheal stood there without his bloodied underwear, having a new pair one with a new shirt as well that was comfortable. Micheal stood there, wearing one of [Y/N]'s shirts. It was clearly big on the male's body as it was to his thighs, the demon smiled at how cute the human looked to them.

"Aww Mimi is so cu—"

"Don't call me that."

[Y/N] froze, the pure darkness and seriousness in the voice of the male in front of them made them look shocked. "Huh...?" Micheal turned away from the demon, the cramps weren't really the best along with the moods he was feeling. "....dont call me Mimi. I need some alone time, call me when dinner is ready." Micheal says walking away from the demon who frowned. Clearly the male didn't want to be talked to, going to his room and closing it. Practically locking himself in his room.

"What's wrong with him?..."

THE DEMON CALLED MILES, [Y/N] called him because they felt like the friend of the male in the house will know what's wrong with him. Micheal would come out the room being affectionate, and then being cold. Literally the male was on the demon's lap a few minutes ago before they smelt blood again. It emitted from the embarrassed male who got up quickly and walked with his thighs pushed together tightly. Shuffling like a penguin. That made suspicion rise in the gluttonous demon.

So the demon was on the phone with their best friend.

"..listen okay? Micheal is trans, he was a female but transferred to a male. Does that make sense.." the other side was silent, miles sighed before continuing. "Okay so basically he felt like he was not in the right body. He didn't feel comfortable in his own skin I guess? But soon he found out who he wanted to be, so he became it. He felt normal and not trapped in that body. Becoming someone who he knows and is." After the explanation, [Y/N] nodded with a stern look. The demon also asked the brown haired male about what Micheal was going through as well, smelling blood always brought back memories from hell.

"He's on his period, he'll be fine on like day 3 or 4 I assume. It happens once a month, either at the beginning, middle or end. Cramps, mood swings ,and all that shit. I heard from him and other girls that cramps are the absolute fuckin worse man."

[Y/N] hummed, miles stayed quiet before asking the demon something.

"You gonna help him?"

The demon bit their lower lip, the thought of the Korean male in pain hurts their own demonic soul.

"I'll help him..I always will."

MICHEAL STAYED IN HIS ROOM, whimpering as he held a heating pad to where it hurts. [Y/N] walked in with a serious and concerned look, holding midol and some snacks. "...You're hurting baby." Micheal blushed at the pet name as he withers away from the presence  of the giant demon in his room. "Blood smells bad, have you taken a shower?" [Y/N] asked before kneeling on the bed side so he can face micheal. Micheal shook his head no, the cramps were getting to him as he cringed feeling it again. Holding the heating pad close to his lower abdomen, [Y/N] sighed holding out the midol pills and the water bottle beside the bed.

"Please..take these. It hurts me to see you in pain micheal." Micheal froze, he never heard his real name being used by the demon who always called him nicknames. Micheal was sure that the demon would've slipped up and called him "Mimi...". The red haired male looked up to see those orange glowing eyes, they screamed protectiveness and concern. The Korean male sat up a bit, cringing at feeling weak. "Here." [Y/N] places the pills on the male's mouth and held the water bottle so Micheal could drink the pills along with the water.

After the Korean male finally took his medicine, [Y/N] picked him up. Not even caring if blood gets on their arm while they walked to the bathroom to run a shower for the poor male in slight pain now. "Taking a bath might seem weird..so please try to stand up to shower mich—" "Mimi..." Micheal says interrupting the demon. "Call me Mimi damnit..." [Y/N]'s eyes widen before softening.

"Okay Mimi..."

And the rest of the day was full of care as the demon took care of their human companion.