#((and it’s hard trying to figure out what songs Wilt would like or listen to))

[gretavangroupie]

Wilt (Chapter 6)

Chapter 5

Wilt Playlist

A/N: This chapter could be triggering for some readers. Please make sure to read the warning. Special thanks to my lovely friend @stellaajames this wouldn't be what it is without her.

WARNINGS: Angst, Smut, Sexual Assault, Drugs, Alcohol, Mentions of Pregnancy and Pregnancy related themes. 18+ as always.

The light peeking around the blinds hits your eyelids, causing them to open slowly, adjusting to bright yellow rays. It is warm on your face. Jake is wrapped around you, facing you, his arms holding loosely on your waist, and his ankles tangled with yours. You can tell from his breathing that he is still asleep, his mouth slightly open, soft breaths escaping his lips. He looks so peaceful, and your finger gently slides across his cheek tracing the ridge of his cheekbone. He is so beautiful. You can’t believe you were ever stupid enough to walk out on him. You wonder how things would be between the two of you if none of this ever happened. His foot moves against yours and you can tell he is starting to wake up. His leg snakes up yours and back down feeling your skin against his. His eyes open and adjust to the light, softening when he sees you in front of him, blinking away the blurriness

“My girl.” He says in a raspy voice, rubbing his thumb over your lips. “This is everything I wanted. I can’t believe I have to leave you tonight.” He says.

“It’s only a few weeks...” You reply softly.

“It will feel a lot longer when I am waking up in hotel beds and you’re not there.” He says.

“What was it you said last night? I will be here waiting for you?” You smile.

“I hope so darlin, love you so much.” He says pulling you on top of him kissing your face all over, playfully.

“What time do you leave tonight?” You ask.

“Gotta leave here at 4:00, flight is at 6:00.” He says.

“You’re all packed?” You ask.

“Yep, everything except you. Still trying to figure out how to put you in my suitcase.” He laughs.

“Are you excited, though? To go to India?” You question.

“Oh yeah, definitely. We haven’t been yet, this will be our first time.” He replies. “We are playing a few shows and a music festival. God I wish you could come. You haven’t even seen us play live yet.” 

“Well, I mean you did play that one song at the office for me?” You joke.

“Eh, its not the same. I want you to get the full experience. Next time, you’re coming with.” He says kissing you with a quick peck.

“Next time.” You smile. You can feel him underneath you, all of him.

You wiggle against him and he smiles. “I feel like there is something coming between us…” you joke.

“Have I mentioned how beautiful you are in the morning?” He says smugly.

“No, but you can tell me while I investigate…this” you say slowly sliding yourself down his body.

Your hand runs over his bulge, confined by his boxers. You place a kiss on his length over the fabric. 

“Baby, you don’t have to…” he says.

“I won’t see you for a month and you’re going to deny me this?” You say in a devilish voice placing kisses on his torso. “In fact, do you want to be a little bit bad….”

“I’m listening….” He replies curiously.

“A month is a long time without each other…if only you had some way to visualize….” You reply.

He raises his eyebrows “Are you saying, you want me to… record you?” He asks.

“Do you want to? Would that be…. Helpful?” You ask placing another kiss on his base.

“Jesus Christ, of course I want to.” He says.

You nod your head looking over to his phone on the side table.

“Are you sure?” He asks.

“As long as its for your eyes only…” you reply.

“Oh no one gets to see this. Ever. Trust me on that. You’re mine.” He says.

You pull the waistband of his boxers slowly down revealing his rock hard length licking from the base to the tip.

“Look at me beautiful.” he says hitting the record button.

You look up through your lashes as you take him into your mouth. A soft hiss leaving his lips.

As you begin to work him up and down a muffled curse leaves his lips.

You swirl your tongue around the sensitive underside of his tip and his cock jerks in your mouth. “Fuck darlin, that is the spot...” He says.

You push down as far as you can go, his length hitting the back of your throat and your throat constricting at the pressure. Looking up to him you nod your head in approval as he places his free hand on your head pushing it down with every forward movement. His movements get stronger until he is forcefully pushing your head down onto him. Fucking himself into your mouth with forceful grunts.

“Fuck baby I am gonna cum...” he says throwing his head back.

You come back up and begin circling his tip hoping it will be his tipping point.

“You are so god damn gorgeous, perfect for me." he groans. You wrap your fist around his base and begin stroke upward while you continue to circling his sensitive tip.

“Im cumming baby…” he says pulling your head closer and thrusting upward into your mouth, his cum shooting down your throat. His groans causing your arousal to pool between your legs.

“Fuck that was so good sugar. I am going to watch that every day I swear to god...” He laughs. You pulls off of him and wipe your face with your hand.

You crawl over the top of him and place a soft kiss on his lips. “I hope you do, but I have one more idea.” His hands come up cupping your face kissing you and pulling your bottom lip between his teeth as you pull away from him.

He rolls you over to your back to where now he is straddling you.

“And what would that be darlin?” He asks.

“Prop it up and let me show you.” You say.

“I get two videos?” He asks shocked.

“You get as many as you want…” you reply.

He kisses you again, and leans over propping his phone up on his lamp, hitting the record button and forgetting about it. As he does this your remove your panties and throw them on the floor.

“Roll over, let me be on top.” You whisper into his mouth.

You climb over his legs and straddle him, taking the hoodie off revealing your naked body underneath.

You let your hair down out of your ponytail, letting it fall loosely around your shoulders. His hands reach up and cup your breasts, gently squeezing them and your nipples harden in response. You place his hands on your thighs and you begin to rub your slick across his hard length and place your hands on your tits, squeezing them as he watches you. His dick twitches as he watches you. 

You drop one of your hands and grab his length gently raising yourself over him and sliding down onto him. A groan leaving your mouth at the fullness of him in this position.

“Jake you feel so good inside me.” 

His hands begin to lift you up slightly and pull you back down onto him. You are making figure 8’s with your hips hitting your g spot and whining with pleasure. You continue in this position for another minute before you start to lift yourself up and down on him in a quicker pace causing your tits to bounce freely at the force. 

“Baby, did your tits get bigger? Jesus they look gorgeous.” He says staring them down

“I don’t thinks so, maybe?…Fuck it feels so good, I’m gonna cum…” you say.

You lean back and place your hands on your ankles, as he continues to hit that spot at a new angle. Suddenly he sits up and you bring your legs around to wrap around his waist. You throw your head back and his hand comes up grasping your throat and he begins to pound into you in this new sitting position. “You’re mine. Say it. Say you’re mine.” He says his grip tightening on your throat.

“I’m yours Jake, always have been.” You reply gasping for air.

He lets go and his rough calloused fingers begin to flick your clit in almost painful strokes. It’s enough to send you into your orgasm and you grip your fingers into his hair as you scream out his name as you clench around him.

“Fuck I love it when you scream my name. You’re so fuckin gorgeous, god I am gonna cum again, you feel so good.” He pants continuing to thrust into you.

“Jake please. Cum inside of me, I want it.” You say kissing his neck.

With a loud grunt you feel him shooting inside of you. 

“God I am going to miss you so fucking bad.” He says.

“I’ll miss you too, but just imagine how good it’s going to be when you get back.” You smile.

He reaches over stopping the recording. He grabs your chin between his thumb and fore finger just staring into your eyes he says “I love you my girl. I know I have been saying that a lot but mean it. I do. I will be thinking of your every second I’m gone.”

“I love you too Jake, and luckily you have this nifty bracelet to look at when you want to think about me and now a few videos to go with it. ” You laugh.

“I never took it off you know.” He says.

“I wondered when I saw you wearing it last night.” You say.

“I was hoping that by wearing it, somehow you’d come back, and you did. So now it’s never coming off. You’ll never see me without it.” He says with a soft kiss.

“Im so glad you like it baby.” You reply as he pulls you into a hug and sniffs your hair breathing in your scent.

You get up and walk to the bathroom and start a shower. You step in and hear Jake coming to join you. He steps in and the water hits his face cascading down his chest, pooling at his necklace.

“You know I love this? I can’t picture you without it.” you say running your fingers over the silver metal.

“I have always worn a necklace, I don’t even remember when I started, just one of those things ya know…” he replies. “This one has a pretty cool story, i’ll tell you sometime.”

You place a soft kiss on his lips and you both continue with your shower enjoying each other.

“So we are agreed I am taking this right?” You ask holding up his hoodie.

Jake looks up from his opened suitcase, laughs and says, “Baby you can take whatever you want.”

You smile and put it on walking over to him, handing him his toiletry bag from the bathroom counter. 

“I can’t believe we only have an hour until I won’t see you for a month.” You sigh.

“Lets have a drink?” He asks.

You make your way to the kitchen and see Josh is in the living room looking at his phone.

“Ahh they finally emerge…” he jokes. “Did you two kiss and make up, just in time for us to leave?” He jokes.

“Yeah, pretty bad timing but, at least I got my girl back.” Jake replies, pouring two drinks.

“Cheers to that” Josh says raising his glass off the coffee table.

You and Jake clink your glasses together and sip the spicy brown liquid.

You join Josh on the couch and ask Jake “will you play me a song before you leave?”

“Song, song, song!” Josh chants.

He sets his drink on the counter and walks to the music room, grabs a guitar and walks back out, his bare feet softly hitting the concrete floors.

“Fine, you want a song…” he says playing the intro to ‘Twinkle Twinkle, Little Star’.

“Noooo, not a baby song! A good song, come on… I won’t get to hear you for weeks!” You say playfully.

He purses his lips and raises his eyebrows smirking as he strums the into to ‘Hey, Hey, What Can I Do’.

You smile giddily and kick your feet in excitement. You love this song. He starts to sing and you and Josh look at each other stunned. Jake never sings.

‘Wanna tell you about the girl I love, my she looks so fine…Ah, she’s the only one that I been dreamin’ of, maybe someday she will be all mine… I wanna tell her that I love her so, I thrill with her every touch…I need to tell her she’s the only one I really love….”

You sit back and listen to him play, your heart swelling with love, but also sadness that he is leaving you so soon. But this is his life, he is a musician and you knew that. It’s his passion and you know that this is part of it. You love him. You couldn’t imagine things any another way. He finishes the song and puts his guitar away, rejoining you on the couch with a kiss on the cheek.

“That was obviously for you.” He says to with another kiss. He leans over you looking at Josh. “NOT you.” He smirks.

“My brother, it is time. I’m gonna go load my stuff in the car.” Josh says standing up.

A sad look crosses your face.

“Hey don’t be sad darlin, it’s just a few weeks.” He says holding your hand.

“I know but I missed you so bad these past couple of weeks and I finally just got you back and now you’re going to be gone again.” You reply.

“But the difference is that we are gonna talk all the time, i’m gonna call you and text you so much that you are gonna tell me to stop bothering you. I promise.” He smiles.

“I’m really gonna miss… you..too.” you say in a suggestive voice.

“Not me, you gave me the best gift today. I can’t thank you enough. I promise I will… help you out when I can.” He says with a kiss and a smirk.

“Okay, let’s get you loaded up.” You say. 

You help him wheel his bags out the the car and load them in. Josh is in the drivers seat and rolls his window down gesturing you to come talk to him.

“Thanks for coming back, he was a wreck without you. He really loves you, and I’m glad things worked out. We love having you around and we will miss you. Let’s do something fun when we get back?” He asks.

“I love him too Josh, and yes, let’s definitely do something fun. I'll brainstorm while you’re gone. Have a safe trip and have fun and break a leg?” You laugh.

“I will do that!” He says.

You walk around the front of the car and Jake is waiting for you at the car door. 

“Alright my girl, I will be back soon. I love you so much. Please, please be here when I get back. Don’t do anything crazy, and you call me if you miss me too bad. I will always answer for you.” He says pulling you in for a passionate and loving kiss before peppering your face with small kisses. “God I cannot get enough of you. Gonna miss you so bad.”

You laugh and pull back “I’m going to miss you to baby, have fun, be careful, YOU don’t do anything crazy. Don’t kill Sam. I will be fine here. May sneak into your bed a few nights, but other than that…. I will be here waiting. I love you too. Always have.” You say hugging him to you with one more kiss. 

“Bye darlin. ”

“Bye Jake.”

As they pull out of the driveway you wave them off and they wave back. You get in your car and head home. As you are driving home you are thinking about Jake teaching you guitar that first day and you remember that he finally told you the name of that song. You pull up Spotify and search the song and find it. You hit the play button and hear the guitar start to ring through the speakers and you smile imagining Jake playing. As the song reaches the chorus you smile listening to the words and realizing why he never sang it for you. Josh is such a talented singer, in fact all of them are insanely talented. You think you might have a new favorite song. As you pull into the drive way you pull out your phone and send Jake a quick text.

You: I finally listened to Mountain of the Sun…I know why you wouldn’t sing it to me now…

Jake: I needed to make sure you felt the same way, couldn’t expose myself so early on. But eventually I did make you mine. ;)

Jake: Miss you already my girl.

You: Miss you too Jakey, have a safe flight. Call me when you land?

Jake: I will, it will be a pretty big time difference though…

You: I don’t care, I’ll answer. Just want to know you made it.

Jake: Okay, love you, talk soon.

You: Love you too.

At home you catch up on your shows, eating dinner and enjoying a bottle of wine. You have felt exhausted all day chalking it up to having an emotional night. You think of Jake and hope his flight is going ok, it’s a nearly 20 hour flight with a massive time change that he will have to adjust to. You go to bed early feeling overly tired and falling asleep easily.

The next day you decide to go shopping for a bit and then come home and clean your house. You spend the better part of the evening cleaning your house which had turned into a depression nest over the past month. It feels good cleaning it up, knowing that things in your life are good again. You clean your kitchen and your bedroom, putting new sheets on your bed and lighting your favorite candle. You move to the bathroom, putting away all of you hair products, make up and skincare items. You clean the shower and the toilet and the last thing you have to do is take out the trash. As you dump the can into a garbage bag you see tampon wrappers at the bottom of the basket and realize those are from the last time you cleaned your bathroom, a month ago. Setting down the empty trash can a wave of heat rushes over your body.

When was the last time you had your period? You put the trash bag in the kitchen with the other and grab your phone from the charger and sit on the couch. You pull up your period tracking app and see that the information for your current cycle is missing. Your last period was over a month ago and your period are extremely regular with your IUD. You thought that the IUD was the safest option… surely you couldn’t be…. You throw your phone on your bed and push it out of your mind. There is no way, you were just really stressed this month and it’s causing you to be late. Thats all. 

The rest of your night is uneventful and you decide to watch a movie to take your mind off of things, but you find your mind wandering as soon as the movie starts. Retracing the dates of when your period was supposed to start you pin point the day you would have ovulated. 

The day you came home from seeing your family for Christmas. 

The day you gave Jake his Christmas present.

The night of the party. 

The night you were raped. 

A sick feeling washes over you as you sprint to the bathroom to expel your guts. Panicked is not the word to describe how you feel. Surely you couldn’t be pregnant. You have an IUD. You didn’t get checked after the assault, wanting to move past what happened. You would have known right then and you could have taken something. You remember Jake saying they found a condom on the ground, so you didn’t worry, but maybe you should have. Maybe you wouldn’t be in this situation.

You jump up and grab your phone and your purse and head to the closest drug store you can find which happens to be a Walgreens. Your heart is racing and you are shaking with fear. You could be pregnant with Jake’s baby. You told him you had an IUD and he trusted you. Even worse, you could be pregnant by your rapist. Your thoughts shift back to Jake. The man you love who is off living his dream. His dream that would be ruined by a child. Either way you spin it this is the worst case scenario for everyone. As you walk down the family planning aisle you swallow back the lump in your throat picking up the pink box. Its has three tests in it. Soon you would know for sure.  You check out with the tests, and head straight home. You place the tests on the bathroom counter deciding on taking them in the morning, as you always heard that was the best time. Its nearly midnight now and you are tossing and turning in your bed. 

You hear your phone buzzing on your night stand. Its Jake.

“Hello?” You say with a groggy voice.

“My girl, god it’s so good the bar your voice. We made it. What time is it there?” He asks.

“Umm 11:42, so basically midnight. ” you reply

“Wow it’s 12:00pm here so its around an 11 hour difference then…” he says.

“How was your flight?” You ask.

“It was so long, I think I watched 10 movies…” he laughs. “Are you ok baby you aren’t very talkative. I have been dying to talk to you.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry I’m okay. I miss you and have been waiting to hear from you. I'm glad you had a good flight and that you made it there in one piece.” You say. 

“We are gonna go check into our hotel and do a little exploring. I miss you so much, I will send you some pictures if you want.” He says.

“Okay, sure baby, have fun. I love you…” you say.

“I love you too my girl, I will talk to you soon. Bye…”

“Bye Jake.” You say hanging up the phone.

You place your phone back on your nightstand and try to sleep knowing that your life could be changed forever by two little pink lines. 

You wake up sweating. Your heart pounding almost instantly, knowing that its time to do it. You drag yourself out of bed and into the bathroom, hands shaking as you open the box. Pulling out the instructions you read them twice to be sure. You decide to do all three tests to be sure, and run to the kitchen to grab a plastic cup. You nervously walk back to the bathroom and relieve your bladder into the plastic cup.

You remove the caps from each test and submerge the test strip of each test into the cup. You line them up on your bathroom counter and set a timer for 3 minutes. You sink down to your bathroom floor, your heart beating so hard you can hear it in your ears and you feel like you might pass out. You start breathing heavily as the timer goes off.  You tell yourself that no matter the result, whatever is meant to happen will happen. You can’t help but think of Jake, and how much you love him. How much this could ruin everything. Swallowing down the lump in your throat you place your hands on the counter very slowly lifting onto your knees. Your eyes just barely peeking over the edge of the counter. Your heart is pounding out of your chest as you pull the first test down to your face with your eyes closed. 

You open your eyes. Negative. 

A wave of relief washes over you and you stand up feeling slightly more confident. 

Only to have all of it stripped away when your eyes meet the two sets of pink lines in the result window of the other two tests. 

Positive. Both of them. 

.

.

.

.

Picking up the tests you examine them thoroughly and grab the instructions to make sure that 2 lines is for sure positive. It is. You grab the negative test only to find that it is now also showing positive, just developing slower than the other two. Three positive tests. You are pregnant. But the worst part is that you don’t know who’s it is. The man you hate, or the man you love, who will hate you for this. Tears begin to fall down your cheeks. You are pregnant. You’ve been pregnant for weeks and you had no idea. Jake had no idea. 

You sink back down to the floor and just cry. The panic sets in and you realize that you still have an IUD in. You immediately call your gynecologist and explain the situation and you make an emergency appointment to have the IUD removed. For your safety and for the safety of the baby you now carry. Your mind shifts to Jake. You will have to tell him, and you will but you’re not sure how. You can’t. Not yet. You need to be sure. This is not part of his plan. When he talked about seeing kids in the future he definitely didn’t mean a month from that conversation. 

You stand up and collect all the tests on the counter, covering them with a towel so that you dot have to look at them. You walk out of the bathroom and begin to get dressed for your appointment. Your phone buzzes on your nightstand.

Jake: Hey beautiful, we just got back to the hotel, it has been the longest day of my life…this jet lag is killing all of us.

You: Hi babe, I can’t imagine how tired you all must be. What are you going to do now?

Jake: I am getting my ass in bed. What do you have going on today?

You don’t even know how to respond. You can’t just come out and say ‘Oh nothing much just getting my IUD removed because I’m pregnant with a baby that may or may not be yours….’

You: Just running some errands today. Might practice a little, been a minute since I picked up my guitar. 

Jake: You’ll send me a video right?

You: If you want me to?

Jake: Of course I do.

You: Miss you.

Jake: Miss you too darlin, wish we were together. Love you.

You: Love you too Jake. Sleep tight.

You arrive at your appointment and you are so nervous you are sweating profusely. You are a ball of nerves and shaking. Maybe there is just a chance those tests were wrong. Just maybe.

They call your name and you walk through the door, and the nurse hands you a plastic cup to pee in. This is it. 

You pee in the cup and screw on the lid, placing it in the little door in the bathroom stall.

The nurse escorts you to a room and gives you a pink paper gown to put on. You always thought these things were so weird. But you think it would be more weird to just keep your normal clothes on…. You wait for what seems like an hour in that room, watching the clock tick, reading all of the signage on the walls telling you about safe sex, vaccinations, and abusive partners. You shiver from the nerves or lack of clothes, you’re not sure which. There is a knock at the door. Your stomach drops. Your doctor walks in and confirms your details with you before pulling a small rolling stool to sit next to you. 

“So, I think you already know what I am going to say if you are here to get your IUD removed.” She says looking at your chart.

“I need to know for sure.” You reply nervously.

“You are pregnant… the urine sample was positive.” She says. “This is extremely rare with an IUD. The failure rate of an IUD is extremely low. Since you did get positive results I would be comfortable removing it for you today, as well as getting a look at what is going on.” She says reassuringly.

She puts on a pair of gloves and grabs the Ultrasound wand. She walks you through the entire process telling you everything she does before she does it. This makes you feel better and less nervous. Inserting the wand you look at the small black and white screen anxious at what you might see. She moves the wand around until she finds your IUD on the screen and takes a few screen captures. 

“You are the one in a million. It looks like your IUD has grown into your uterine lining.” She says. “I will be able to remove it today, but it is going to be painful and taxing for you. Is there anyone you’d like to call?” 

Your mind shoots immediately to Jake. Jake, who you know would be here in seconds and never leave your side. Thats just who he is. But you can’t. 

“No.” You say heartbroken swallowing back tears. 

“Okay, lets see if I can find the embryo…” she says moving the wand. “You are only around 4.5 weeks according to your last period, so I should be able to possibly see a yolk sac.”

You realize that you have been holding your breath and let out a long breath.

“Yep, there right there…See that little black spot?” She says pointing to the tiny black circle on the screen. A tear falls from you eye and you feel like you’re going to be sick. 

“When you come back in a few weeks we should be able to hear the heartbeat.” She says clicking boxes on the screen. 

“Now, lets talk about removing this IUD. I am going to give you some local anesthetic to try and numb the pain, but i’m going to be honest with you. It is going to hurt. A thin layer of tissue has grown over part of it, and I am going to have to pull it off.” She says. “I’m ready, let’s just do it.” You reply. 

Getting your IUD out was one of top 3 worst experiences of you life. You wished so badly that Jake was there with you. You left the office with paperwork and pamphlets and brochures on every single pregnancy topic in the book. You are absolutely distraught and cry the whole way home. You have ruined your life. Maybe even Jake’s life. That is the worst part. You don’t even know if its his. You feel so guilty for wanting it to be his. You can’t bear the thought of carrying a child as a result of that horrible night. You tell yourself again that you have to talk to Jake but you can’t even find the words. 

You cry off and on most of the night trying to practice your guitar to take your mind off of everything. Around 10pm you get a text from Jake.

Jake: Miss you, waited for my video all night.

You: Don’t you have a few videos on your phone…Had a long day, just now doing it. Hold on.

You prop your phone up and try to cover your face as much as possible. You know that it is red and blotchy from all the crying.  You play ‘Wild Horses’ and send it to him. Its a little rough but thats to be expected after your little hiatus. A few minutes later he responds.

Jake: You are so beautiful my girl. Im gonna go watch it again. Send me another.

You play the intro chords to a song that you have been working on by yourself. One that you haven’t told him about yet. You were going to surprise him before everything happened. You record it and hit send. 

Your phone rings, it’s a FaceTime call. Crap. You quickly try to fix yourself up, knowing your face is still red and swollen. 

“Hi!” You answer seeing his beautiful face appearing on your phone. He is out somewhere, it’s the middle of the day, and he has on his sunglasses. 

“Hey my love, what is wrong? I just watched the second video and your eyes are all red and puffy…” He asks.

You know this is not the time or place to tell him so you lie.

“Ah, nothing it must be allergies… I’m okay!” You reply with a smile.

“You’re a terrible liar, always have been.” He laughs.

“Please tell me what’s wrong?” He asks as he continues walking where ever he is going.

“I just miss you is all. Wish you were here.” You say. Which is technically not a lie.

“Darlin, don’t cry. Damn, break my heart.” He says.

“I am just feeling emotional is all. It's been a crazy start to the year. Anyways, what are you guys up to?” You ask.

“We are out here about to walk into the venue for the show tonight… gonna go soundcheck, get some lunch, fuck around… you know the usual.” He jokes.

“I am glad you guys are having fun. I won’t keep you. I am gonna go to bed anyways.” You say.

“Okay babe, well please don’t cry. Don’t be sad. The time is gonna go so quick and I will have you all to myself.” He says. 

You swallow hard, knowing that isn’t true anymore.

“I love you, have a good show tonight.” You say.

“Thanks my girl, love you too, so much. Later.” He says ending the call.

All you can think about is how this will ruin his career, everything he has ever worked for. You burry your face into your pillow and cry some more. 

.

.

.

.

Three agonizing weeks pass, and you still haven’t told Jake. How do you tell someone something like this. Something that is not what either of you want. You have been so stressed about everything that you have essentially stopped taking care of yourself. Doing the bare minimum to survive. 

You want to try and relax tonight so you decide to do a self care night with a long shower, and an extra long skin care routine. You eat your favorite dinner and watch your favorite movie. You are feeling much better and you know that Jake will be calling you any minute. He has made it almost a routine to call you every off night around 10pm, which is around 10am his time. He missed last night so you are excited to talk to him tonight. You finish your movie and are about to go get in bed when you realize it's almost 11:30 and you haven’t heard from Jake at all. He must have had a busy night for once you laugh to yourself.

You tuck yourself into your bed, imagining it was Jake’s big fluffy bed, and scroll through instagram. You realize that you never followed Jake’s page and you search him, and follow him. You look through all the pictures, your heart constricting when you see his smile when he is with his brothers, and his very serious playing face. You click over to his tagged photos and something catches your eye causing your heart to beat hard in your chest. 

Jake is tagged in a photo with someone else. The photo is of him, a dark haired girl who is resting her hand on his chest, almost too intimately. His arm is around her waist and Josh and another girl are in a similar position next to them. You click on her profile and see that she posted this photo about 10 hours ago. Last night. When Jake ‘forgot’ you charge his phone.

You click to watch her story on her page and you see videos of all the guys out at dinner last night, each of them paired up and sitting with a gorgeous girl. The same one sitting next to Jake, with his arm propped around the back of her chair. 

The next story shows them drinking together, and everyone is laughing and having a good time only adding to your shock.  

Her last story post is a picture of her kissing his cheek as he poses with his drink with a smirk.

You’ve seen enough and turn off your phone throwing it across the bed. Heart breaking at the thought of him with someone else while you’re here. Like this.

A small tear leaves the corner of your eye. You can’t help but feel like he lied to you when he said he forgot the charge his phone, and tonight when he didn’t call. You brush it off, though. He loves you. He tells you every single day. You go to bed hoping tomorrow when you talk to him, he will explain everything and put your mind at ease. 

When the morning comes you see that your brain has let you sleep in as it is nearly 11:00. You sit up and grab your cell phone from the floor. You must have kicked it off in your sleep last night. You turn it on and see you have a text from Jake.

Jake: I’ve have had a busy couple of days… I haven’t forgotten about you. Love you.

You: Ok.

Jake: Please don’t be mad. 

You: I’m not.

You put your phone on the charger and get up to start your day. You have a follow up appointment today at your doctors office and you are already a bundle of nerves thinking about it. You are supposed to be able to hear the heartbeat today, or see it flickering according to the extensive research you have been conducting. You know that Jake will be home in a week and you have put off telling him. 

As you arrive at the doctors office you repeat the same process as the first time, pee in a cup, wait in the room long enough to second guess every choice you’ve ever made in your life, and then the doctor finally comes in. 

“According to your chart you should be around 7.5 weeks?” She asks.

“Yes.” You reply.

She grabs the ultrasound machine pulling it close to you and inserts the wand. Your heart almost stops when you see the shape of the tiniest little baby floating in the black blob on the screen. 

“This right here, is the baby. This is the umbilical cord, and this here is your placenta.” She says pointing out every thing on the screen. “I am going to take some measurements and check the heart rate. Can you see this little flickering right here? Thats the heart beating. 90bpm heart rate.” She says clicking around on the screen. Your own heart is pounding in your chest. That is a baby, and its growing inside of you. Your mind jumps immediately to Jake. What would he say? What would he do if he got to see this? He would want to be here for this. 

“So the baby is measuring about 6 weeks 4 days, which is about a week behind, but nothing to worry about. This happens sometimes.” She says. “I will have you come in again next week and we will check again, but right now everything looks good.” 

“Could I have a print of this?” You ask pointing to the screen.

“Of course.” She says, sending it to print.

As you get in the car you sit and stare at the tiny baby in the picture and your heart fills with sadness, but also something else… love. Seeing it again today, you realize that it doesn’t matter to you who’s baby it is, you’re its mother, and your body grew this. This perfect little baby. You drive home, and place the ultrasound photo on your refrigerator. You may be coming around to the idea of this. Maybe its not such a horrible thing. Maybe this is how your life was always meant to be. 

You know you have to tell Jake, and that is the worst part. What if he doesn’t want this? How could he? He is a rockstar that is literally across the world right now living his dream. He is not going to give that up for you and a baby. You know this, and accept the reality that this is what will ultimately end it for good. You think about the photos you saw of him last night with that girl wrapped around him and you know he isn’t ready to give up that life. Your heart breaks at the thought of being without him.

You grab your phone from your purse and see you have 2 missed calls and a slew of texts from Jake that you haven’t replied to.

Jake: Miss you. Love you.

Jake: Can’t wait to see you so soon.

Jake: Are you mad at me?

Jake: Call me.

You check the clock and see that it is 1pm, meaning it is 1am where he is. The chances are high that he is asleep but you call him anyways. It rings a few times and he answers.

“Ahhhhh Baby. Why have you been ignoring me all day, why are you mad?” He asks with a sleepy voice. You must have woken him up.

“I don’t know Jake, I didn’t hear from you for a few days. You looked awful cozy with that girl the other night.” You reply. You don’t know what came over you to say that, must be the extra hormones. 

“What girl? What are you talking about?” He asks.

“The one that tagged you in the pictures and stories on Instagram” you reply. “You two were all over each other, and then you didn’t call me or text me for like 2 or 3 days Jake….” You reply.

“No, you’ve got it all wrong. This is why I hate social media. I promise that nothing happened with that girl, we were all just being friendly. Im sorry my love.” He says, but you feel like he is holding back the truth.

“Im sorry, I just don’t believe you.” You say. “When are you supposed to be home Jake? We need to talk.” 

“Day after tomorrow… sugar, what’s going on…You said you weren’t going to leave again, you promised.”

You burst into tears, “I don’t want to leave you Jake, its not even about the girl. Im just emotional I don’t know what’s wrong with me…” you cry into the phone.

“Woah, baby you are being so hot and cold with me. Is everything okay?” He asks.

“I just really need to talk to you, in person.” You reply.

“You are scaring me. What is going on?” He asks sternly. “In fact….”

You hear the FaceTime tone ringing through the ear piece and you answer. 

His sleepy face shows up on your screen and you see him reach to turn a light on.

He is so gorgeous, you remember why you fell in love with him. He sits up and clears his throat.

“Alright darlin, you need to tell me what’s going on, because I will be god damned if I am going to lose you again when I am half way across the world.” He says as you stare at him with longing eyes.

“Please say something!” He says. 

“Jake I would really rather do this in person…” you reply.

“Dammit no! Do it now!” He yells.

A tear falls down your face as all the emotions you have been hiding from him come to the surface. You just stare at his beautiful face through the tiny screen knowing that your next words could change the trajectory of your relationship with him.

“Jake, I’m pregnant.” You say looking down before looking up to his eyes. 

His face is completely shocked, and he is speechless.

“No, thats not possible you have an IUD, you told me you did….” He stammers.

“It failed, Jake…” you reply.

“Oh fuck…” he says “Are you, sure?”

“Yeah, I am. Its actually been a few weeks… I just… I didn’t know how to tell you because, i’m not even sure if…” you cry

“You’re not sure if what?” He says yelling. “If it’s mine? Well its real simple, are you fucking someone else?”

“No Jake, but I don’t know….” You sob.

“Did you fuck someone else! Just answer the question!” He says.

“No Jake, I didn’t. But it would have happened the same night as…” you stop sucking in a deep breath.

“Oh fuck, don’t even tell me… Don’t even say it…. Jesus Christ…” he says panicking. “No you… no, there was a condom on the floor… I saw it!” he pleads.

“I know, but I don’t know if that was his, or someone else’s… I don’t know anything. All I know is that, that night before the party we….” You gesture between the two of you,  “And then at the party he…”  you finish.

“FUCK!” he yells slamming his phone down on the bed. The call ends. You wait to see if he calls back but he doesn’t. 

After minutes pass you send him a text.

You: Jake, please. Say something. Anything.

Jake: I don’t know what to say.

You: I’m sorry.

.

.

.

.

Silence. Its complete silence. You haven’t heard anything from Jake. You knew the possibility of this was high. You can’t do this alone. You feel like your world is moving in slow motion. You fall asleep on your couch that night, tears never stopping and praying your phone would ring.

.

.

Pounding. Your head is pounding. You open your eyes and realize it is morning. The pounding isn’t coming from your head. Its coming from your door. Someone is beating on your door.

You check your phone, its 11:30 in the afternoon…. You jump up and run the sleeves of Jakes hoodie over your eyes. You open the door, and are met with what you never expected. Jake.

He grabs you in his arms hugging you lifting you off the ground and kissing your face over and over.

You immediately begin to cry because you are so overwhelmed. “What are you doing here? I thought you were in India?” You cry into his shoulder as he walks in the door, shutting it behind him.

“I was, I got the first flight back. I had no choice but to come straight here. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me—that you have been keeping this a secret this whole time…” he replies. 

“I was scared! This isn’t what you wanted! This will ruin everything! I don’t even know if it’s yours!” You cry.

“Hey, its okay. Everything will be okay.” He says rubbing your face with his thumbs.

“As far as I’m concerned, it’s mine. Always has been. And I do want this, are you kidding me?”

“What?” You ask shocked.

“What, did you think I was going to leave you? Alone with my baby? I may not have wanted this right now, but I do want it. With you. The whole plane ride over all I could think about was you. All I ever looked for, searched for, wanted my whole life, is this, with you. I love you, do you get that? I will never let you go. This baby included. If now is when it all happens then so be it. ”

As the tears fall from your eyes your lips meet his in a kiss that says everything you haven’t been able to say. 

“I was so scared Jake, I didn’t know what I was going to do. You were going to leave me, and I was going to have to keep loving you from afar….with a baby that looked just like you….” You cry. 

“How could you ever think that….” He says pulling you in for another kiss. “I have missed you so much. I am so happy to see you my girl. As for those pictures you saw… those girls ran the coordination for this little leg of tour, they did all the translating and what not. They were overly friendly that night, and Danny actually put them in their place later after she tagged all of us in those photos. I was so drunk all I talked about was you the whole night. I thought Josh was going to kill me. By the time I got back to my room, my phone was dead and I passed out. I am so sorry I fucked up like that. That was truly my mistake.” 

“Baby, it’s okay. I was just overly emotional.” You say pointing to your belly. 

He looks down and a soft smile crosses his face. “Can I…” he asks grabbing the hem of the hoodie.

You nod. 

He kneels down and pushes the hoodie up revealing the soft skin of your stomach pressing a soft kiss to the area right below your belly button and whispering so faintly you almost didn’t catch it, “I’ll never leave you.”

Your heart melts into a puddle and your eyes fill with tears.

“Do you want to… see?” You ask.

He looks up at you standing and nodding his head. You walk to your fridge and remove the tiny picture from under the magnet. You hand him the photo and sit down next to him on the couch.  He stares it at running his fingers over the tiny blob before he looks up to you. “It’s perfect. I can’t wait. ” He says staring at the picture. 

“I love you.” He says sincerely, looking into your soul.

“I love you too, Jake.” You reply as his lips meet yours. 

For the next week Jake never leaves your side. He spends every moment caring for you and talking about the future. A possibility that you never considered. You were so sure that he wouldn’t want this life, that he would want nothing to do with this. But he’s here. He came running. Straight to you.

You have spent most nights back at his house because he knows how much you love his bed, and you do. You sleep better with him next to you. Jake has talked all week about going to the appointment with you today. He can’t wait to see it for himself. He is the first one up today showering and getting ready, bringing you coffee. You smell it before you can even open your eyes. 

“Coffee, my love?” He whispers next to your ear.

“Mmmmm, thank you. You’re up early.” You reply.

“I am just anxious. This is what happens… my brain just turns on and I pace around and keep myself busy.” He says.

“Are you nervous babe?” You ask him.

“I mean, a little bit. Its a baby! My baby.” He says kissing your head.

“Love you” you say with a yawn. 

“Love you too darlin.” He replies.

On the way to the appointment you are nervous. You both are. You can tell that Jake is anxious by the bouncing of his leg as he drives. As you pull into the parking lot you stop and grab his hand. 

“Its going to be okay, right? We will make it work?” You ask nervously.

“Everything is perfect, you are the most gorgeous woman I have ever seen, and you have my baby inside of you. Of course everything is okay, better than okay. Exactly as it should be. ” He says squeezing your hand. 

You make you way inside, wait until you hear your name called and you both walk back. You dress in the pink paper gown and sit on the table. Jake sits in a small chair by the door, his leg bouncing against the floor again. You make small talk to pass the time. The doctor knocks on the door and enters with a smile and introduces her self to Jake before turning to you.

“Hi, how are you doing?” She asks.

“I am great, but anxious.” She replies.

“That is completely normal.” She says pulling her gloves on.

“Would you like to take a look?” She says to Jake.

The cold wand enters you and the screen flickers with the black and white images.

“Alright, let’s see.” She says moving around to find the baby. It looks the same as you remember. 

“So here is the baby, i’m just going to do a few measurements and grab the heart rate.” She says moving the wand around in different positions. 

Jake is absolutely beaming and hand your hand in his bringing it up to his lips. 

She turns the screen to face her. And begins moving the wand around more with a solemn look on her face.

“I’m so sorry but I cannot find the heartbeat. I am going to go grab another doctor to confirm.” She says.

The blood drains from your face and you turn to Jake who is staring at you.

She leaves the room and you begin to panic.  

“Don’t worry baby, it’s okay.” Jake says trying to be reassuring, looking around the room nervously.

The doctor re-enters this time with another behind her. 

“Hi, I am just going to confirm for you.” She says sitting down and putting on gloves before searching with the wand. 

You and Jake stare at each other silently speaking with your eyes. It feels like an eternity has passed. 

“I’m really sorry sweetheart but unfortunately there is no heart beat present. It looks like the growth stopped about a week ago. I believe you are miscarrying at this time.” She stands up and walks out, your doctor thanking her.

“I am very sorry, this unfortunately happens sometimes. Usually it’s due to a genetic abnormality and you have done nothing wrong.” 

Your doctor says.

Jake brings your shaking hand to his lips just holding it there before bending his head down and resting your hands on his forehead. You can tell he is heartbroken.

“I wil give you two a moment. I am going to come back with some information for you.” She says shutting the door behind her.

“Jake… I….” You burst into tears.

“Baby, this is not your fault. This happens. I hate it so fucking much but it does happen. It doesn’t change anything between us.” He says.

He stands up and pulls you to your feet just holding you in his arms as you sob.

“But I wanted it. I wanted it to be yours. I wanted this! I was just scared and now it’s gone!” You cry.

“I wanted it too my love, I really did, and it will be mine…Ours. One day. I promise.” He says softly into your ear. “I love you so much.”

You continue to sob as he holds you.

.

.

.

Fin.

[crystallizedkingdoms]

Coda

day 7 of @johann-appreciation-week! the final day has come already huh. this one went by so quickly. i cant wait for the next one :3. just as a warning though, this fic discusses magnus' canon wonderland death under the impression hes actually dead, and alludes to johanns canon death. sad ending :(

you can also read this on ao3 <3

There is an end to every song. Even when you wish with all your might that the end won’t come, it will come and take all the music with it. 

There is nothing anyone can do to stop it. Try as you might to stall the ending, to beg for that song to stay playing, forever and ever and ever, the end will catch up. An ending will always come.

Johann thinks about the end when Avi curls up in his bed, sobbing into himself. The two of them are in Avi’s dorm, desperately clutching each other’s hands like they are the only thing keeping each other down. Nothing really feels right when the Bureau loses an employee, of course, but to lose Magnus…  

“They said ‘moving on is what he would have wanted.’ I hate that they’re right. I hate that they’re right because it is so hard to do that right now,” Avi says. His breath has that strong scent of alcohol that Johann hates, but he’s still mostly sober— if only because Johann had to rip the flask away from him. “Out of all of them, I didn’t expect Magnus to be the one to… to be the one…”

Johann wordlessly listens to Avi, a terrible pain of his own clawing at his heart. Nothing has felt quite right these past few days leading up to this year’s Midsummer, and what a way for this feeling to pay off. The death of Magnus Burnsides, of all people, and the downright fucking terrifying scene of the wilting surface that Johann had witnessed a few hours earlier. 

“There’s so much happening, Avi…” Johann whispers. His voice cracks a little. A weak and small sound. Avi doesn’t reply. He just sighs and holds Johann a little tighter. 

A million different thoughts swarm Johann’s head as he sits on the edge of Avi’s bed in silence: Why Magnus out of everyone? Is he really gone? Why is the fucking apocalypse happening down there and only Garfield seems to be the only one doing anything about it? Should I take Avi and leave? Is that more dangerous? What’s going to happen to the Bureau? Oh gods, do we even have time to do Magnus’s Rites of Parting before we figure out the last relic? I have to start writing his composition—

“Hey, you okay, Johann?” Avi asks. He is sniffling and shuddering, but he still looks up at Johann all worried. “You’re holding onto my hand so tightly. Your nails kind of hurt.”

Johann loosens his grips on Avi’s hand he didn’t even know he had tightened. “Sorry, I’m really sorry. I’m just— just overwhelmed. And I’m so scared, Avi. I don’t think I’ve ever been this scared. Nothing feels right,” Johann says through building tears. “Don’t you feel it? Don’t you feel that everything feels wrong? ”

Avi takes a deep breath and sighs with his whole body. He props himself up onto his back, resting on the headboard of his bed. “Yeah, I know. There’s only so much we can take. And his death is… fuck, man, it’s a lot,” he says. Then, he tugs on Johann’s arm, beckoning him closer. “But… gods, Johann, no matter how wrong everything feels, we still have each other, don’t we?”

That’s not the only thing though! It’s not just his death. Everything feels wrong. Everything feels bad and we need to get out of here, Johann wants to yell, but he doesn’t say it. Even when it nags at him, that’s not what he says. Why would he? That’s not what Avi needs to hear. That’s not what anyone needs to hear at this moment. 

“Yeah,” Johann tries to weakly smile, “yeah, we still have each other.” 

Avi attempts to smile back. Johann knows deep in his heart, without having to think, that Avi’s smile looks better and more sincere than the one he’s currently giving. It’s unfair that even in this day of total hell, Avi is still the better comforter between the two of them. “Come closer,” Avi pleads. His voice drips with anguish and longing as he tugs Johann’s arm again. “Lay down with me, please?” 

Johann looks down on the tear-stained sheets of Avi’s bed. How many times have they laid in this bed, talking about each other’s day, planning their next date? Was it right to lay in it when everything seems to be going so wrong? Shouldn’t they be doing something, anything about their situation? 

Johann tries his hardest to ignore that side of him. He smiles more genuinely at Avi this time, then crawls closer to Avi’s side. In an instant Avi is clinging to Johann’s body, and Johann holds him just as tight. They are cuddling into each other, needing one another, both seeking shelter when they feel unsteady in the world around them. One much more than the other.

“We should stay here,” Avi says. “Let’s just stay here? In my room, together. Fuck whatever is happening out there, fuck the Relics, fuck everything. No need to do our jobs, not now. Let’s just… let’s just pretend that nothing is awful.” 

Johann rubs his face into Avi’s chest. He needs to be as close to him as possible to block everything out. “How can we do that?” Johann asks. “How can we just hide from it all? It’s all lingering above us. It’s all coming down. It’s going to crash on me.”

“Very cryptic way of saying it,” Avi laughs awkwardly. “We can do… anything here. In the safety of this room. 

You left your harp here last time, you could play something. I also have some snacks somewhere. We can eat. I have books we can read, too. We can talk about life, talk about anything and everything about our life after the Bureau. That sounds nice, doesn’t it?” His speech gets faster and faster in his rambling, like he’s urgently searching for anything to occupy his mind other than the terrible things around him.

It freaks Johann out a little, so he silently holds Avi tighter, as if to say, I’m here, Avi, I’m here with you. 

That seems to calm Avi down a little. “Or we could… we can just rest. You can sleep in my arms. And everything will be alright,” he says. It sounds more like he’s trying to comfort himself more than he’s trying to comfort Johann. Not that Johann can be mad at that. Avi has always been the one that needs to talk in stressful situations like these. Johann isn’t going to deny him that. 

“Sleeping in your arms does sound nice…” Johann hums and nuzzles into Avi. He feels calm in this embrace, and for a second, Johann does believe that they can lie here forever. That if they fall asleep in each other’s arms, they will wake up and the world will be right again. The mourning of Magnus will wreck the Bureau, of course, but Johann and Avi will make it through together. 

Avi kisses Johann’s lips in a surprise moment of relaxation. Johann is a little shocked at first, but he kisses Avi back. The kiss is sweet, but long. Long enough that Johann raises his hand up to thread through his long, loose hair and keep it there. A comforting gesture for both of them. Johann melts into the kiss even more. He wishes it can last forever. 

But there are things to do. Things to fulfill. They eat up at the corner of Johann’s thoughts, even after he pulls away from the kiss. Even after he tries to hide away in the crook of Avi’s neck and just let himself relax. His thoughts wander farther and farther from Avi, and back to work…

Oh gods, Johann’s work. He had so many pieces down at the Voidfish’s chambers that were laying there, unfinished. One of them was the Voidfish’s first meal it’s had in a while! He couldn’t just delay its feeding again.

“Avi, I…” Johann wriggles away from Avi slightly to sit up. “I haven’t fed the Voidfish. I have to go down there really quickly, I’m sorry.”

Avi stares at Johann with a look of disbelief. His eyes are still red and puffy from the crying, which sends a pained pang in Johann’s heart. “Johann, what? The Voidfish can live without a meal for a day,” he says, and damn it, those eyes he gives Johann are downright painful.

“No, I— I’ve been skipping its meals lately. I haven’t fed it in maybe weeks I think. I need to check on it. It’ll be quick, babe, please.”

Johann’s words seem to be settling into Avi, which he notices by the tension growing in his body. “You’re not serious are you? You’re just teasing me. Come on, you’re not really going to leave me here, are you?” Avi asks.

“I’m not leaving you, don’t say it like that! It will be really quick, I promise. I just need to go there. I’ll be in and out,” Johann tries to reassure.

“You always do this, Johann,” Avi seethes. “I know grief isn’t easy on you. I know you usually bury yourself in your work after someone passes here, but please, not this time. I’m begging you. Please stay with me.”

Johann looks away from Avi. He has to avoid those eyes or he won’t be able to go anywhere. “I’m sorry, I know I do this. Maybe that’s what it is. Maybe that’s where this shitty feeling is coming from, but god, let me go just this one time. Let me go and feed the Voidfish, and I’ll come back as soon as I can. I already have a full composition for it, it won’t need anything more than a few finishing touches, I’ll be quick— ”

“You being quick doesn’t change the fact that I am asking you to stay and you are leaving me for work! We should be supporting each other and all you can think about is your work?” Avi yells. 

Johann freezes. Avi is yelling at him. When was the last time they yelled at each other?

Johann’s pulling himself away from Avi when he seems to realize. “Ah, um, Johann, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said it like that. I’m just really stressed right now, and I…” Avi trails off, trying to catch Johann’s eyes. “I just really need you right now.”

Johann still refuses to look into Avi’s eyes. He’s staring down at the floor that is much cleaner and more inviting than his own mess down in the Voidfish’s quarters. “I need you too, Avi,” Johann says. “I hope you’re not reading this as me trying to avoid you or that I don’t need you to.” 

Avi bites his tongue. “Then why are you going down?” he asks. His words sound strained and distressed.

“I need to feed the Voidfish. I need to… to be with my work. For one last time. We’re almost done with the mission, right?” Johann says. He finally turns back to face Avi, and there are tears streaming down his face. “We won’t be here anymore. I won’t feed the Voidfish anymore. And that’s— that’s equal parts so liberating and also terrifying.

“Once everything terrible out there in the world ends, and the Relics are gone, we’ll have our life together. The one we always talk about: where we move back down to Neverwinter, I play full-time and you look for another job, we meet each other’s parents and we love each other for years to come. There will be other nights I will be able to sleep in your arms.”

Johann takes Avi’s hand into his. He rubs his thumb over the tattoos on Avi’s fingers, wishing that this alone could prove to Avi just how much he really, truly loves him. “Does that make sense?” he asks.

Avi is starting to cry again, too. It was painful to watch Avi cry over Magnus, but knowing that Avi’s now crying over him is somehow even more painful. “I think I do,” he sighs. “I still would rather you didn’t do this. I really wish we could stay here together. I don’t want you to leave, but I guess I can’t stop you, huh?”

Looking into Avi’s eyes, Johann sees it. It is a fraction of the feeling that Johann is feeling, and he’s not sure if Avi can actually pinpoint it, but Johann recognizes that look in his eyes without a doubt: Avi feels everything is wrong, in whatever small way, too. Johann lifts Avi’s hand up to his lips and plants a small, teary kiss right on his ring finger. “I’ll be okay, Avi. I promise. You’ll barely even notice I’m gone, I swear I’ll be quick,” he says, his lips still pressed against Avi’s knuckles. 

“Don’t say that. I always notice when you’re gone. I always will.”

Johann feels a little guilty for feeling really good about that. He feels really guilty for leaving Avi at all. He hates the idea of being alone when the world is going to shit all around them. Yet that alluring and captivating call that his work echoes out to him, the idea of being surrounded with his life’s work before he inevitably has to start packing up…

It pains Johann to admit that he finds it more enticing than sleeping in Avi’s arms.

Johann kisses Avi’s hand once more, then he leans down to kiss Avi on the lips. Avi eagerly kisses back, leaning up into Johann’s lips and trying to keep them as close as possible. They stay there for what feels like hours to Johann and only a fraction of a second to Avi. In reality, the kiss is neither too long nor too short. One thing that is certain about the kiss is just how full of love it is. Their hands tighten and caress each other’s fingers as a further show of support and love. It is here that they are safe. Here their sweet song plays uninterrupted.

But there is an end to every song. That idea hits Johann again and fills him with melancholy.

Avi is the one to end the kiss, surprisingly. He pulls away from Johann’s sweet lips with a sigh, “I… I won’t hold you back any longer this time, but you have to promise that we can discuss this habit when everything is better. Can you promise me that, Johann?” He is asking that with exhaustion so pitiful that makes Johann’s guilt eat up at him even more.

“Yes, Avi, I promise,” Johann says. With pain in his heart, Johann releases Avi’s hand and starts to leave the room.

“Wait,” Avi frantically says as Johann opens the door.

Johann turns around. His heart is pounding loud in his chest. “Yes?

“I love you, Johann.”

Johann thinks these might be the words that will snap him out of his daze. Some part of him hopes and prays that it is. He wants Avi’s love. He’s always wanted Avi’s love. Johan loves Avi, and Avi loves him so much. He should stay here, and let it last forever, right?

“I love you, too, Avi,” Johann chokes out. Then he steps out of Avi’s dorm room and closes the door behind him, following a thread of fate that had been wrapped around his fingers long before this Day of Story and Song.

When Johann goes down the elevator to the Voidfish’s chambers, we know what will happen. A song will end so that it can inspire all of reality to fight. To win. 

There is an ending to every song, and there is nothing you can do to stop it. Though that heartfelt invitation tried to stall it, an ending still came. Avi will spend the rest of his life thinking he could have stopped that ending, but the truth is, there was nothing he could do. Johann would’ve gone down there no matter what. An unalterable string of fate better left untouched. 

Despite it all, it was still important. That invitation was still important. That invitation still made Johann think. It still made Johann feel loved. That will always be enough.

[ask-wiltmichaels]

Hey Wilt! I just want to say thanks for everything; I really love your personality, your kind and poised along with strong and empathetic at heart. Thank you very, very much. 💖💖💖

Also, I know I asked you a question before, but I have lots to ask about you!!! Here is the list. Sorry if it is too much ... I don't want to bombard you too much. Also, you don't have to answer them all at once.

- What is the saddest song you've ever heard? Mine is

I'm Sorry, I'm Sorry by Kikuo.

- Favorite food?

- Favorite outfit?

- What makes you feel happy? I'm happiest when writing poems.

- What keeps you safe at night?

- What was the most traumatic event in your life (other than that time with you and Larry)? You don't have to answer this question.

Remember, if there's anything you need, let me know. Is that okay?

1. Hmmm, hard to say!! There’s a lot of sad songs I’ve come across, but I guess one of the saddest songs I’ve heard is Bus Stop by The Hollies. I mean, compared to other songs, it isn’t all that sad. Actually I’m not even sure if it is a sad song. But it makes me sad hearing it and reminds me of my life before Foster’s. Before I started living at Foster’s, I used to hang around at different bus stops a lot since I didn’t really have anywhere else to go. I guess I was hoping I’d find someone else in the same boat as me there.

2. Awww man, this one’s also pretty hard, there’s no food that I havent liked so far! But definitely Frankie’s chocolate waffles are in my top favorites, especially when she adds an ice cream scoop on top, drizzled with chocolate syrup, and topped with strawberry and banana slices, mmmmm!!

3. Dressing up for Pizza Party’s band was definitely the snazziest I felt in a long time! Loved the yellow colors and the hat with shades were very nice!!

4. I’m sorry if this is an obvious answer, but playing basketball makes me feel happy! Whether it’s by myself or with other people, it helps clear my head since I’m more focused on the game!!

5. Im not sure if you meant what keeps me safe at night literally or metaphorically so I went more with the latter if that’s okay! But anyways, back when I first started living at Foster’s and before I met Ed and Coco, I slept with Skipper a lot. I was pretty anxious during my early days at Foster’s and sleeping with Skipper made me feel just a little less nervous. But I’ve been able to sleep without him for years now so he’s just been staying in my locker!

6. I won’t really go into detail about this one if that’s okay. But living on the streets for a long time made me not like rainy days for a while.

[bbygenya]

cyber sex pt.2 🌪

fandom: demon slayer: kimetsu no yaiba

pairing: modern!sanemi x reader

ratings: m for m(utual mastubation)ature :)

warnings: none

word count: 2787

summary: listening to a popular song, you get a devilish idea for your dear old boyfriend

a/n: ma’am spare some digital coochie for a poor beggar—

also this isn’t that great (its my first kny fic as I mentioned earlier so pls be nice 🥺) read part 1 here!

“Let’s have video sex.”

He pauses for a moment, wondering what to say, how to act. This was out of the blue. “You sure? We don’t ha-”

“Oh my god, shut up,” you sigh, rolling your eyes. “Do you want to get off or what?” you ask, giving him a pointed look through the camera. You can see his cheeks roast a downy pink color as he averts his eyes, but leans back in his chair with a smug look on his face. 

“It’s that damn song, isn’t it? You really like listening to freaky shit don’t you [y/n]?”

You open your mouth to say something, but then it closes when you realize that he has a point. Sure, you’d picked the song out of pure coincidence that day, but you can’t deny you do like sexy songs. They make you think of Sanemi, especially the more explicit ones. It wasn’t like you two listened to songs when you had sex, but you do find yourself a little aroused when you listen to the “freaky shit” he’s talking about. So what if you thought about getting off with him over camera a few times after that shared experience? It’s not your fault—your sex drive wasn’t nearly as high before you got with him, and it’s like Sanemi has managed to unlock something in you that you hadn’t known was there, and of course he was proud as hell of being able to do it. Something about corrupting you really got him fired up, and both of you are acutely aware of it. 

“Well,” you mumble, suddenly shy. He leans back towards the camera, scooting up in his chair to see you better. Eyelids drooping as he looks you over, admiring how you’d been so bold to blurt out that the two of you should have video sex, yet now you were all shy. It’s cute. 

“If you want, I can just come over and fuck you—”

“No! I mean,” you chew at your lip and sigh. “I just don’t know. . . how this works. . .” you admit, toying with the hem of your oversized shirt, avoiding eye contact. Sure, the whole concept of getting off together was nice, but when you really thought about it, you weren’t even sure how to initiate it. Sex in person was easy; there’s kissing, touching—all that. Yet this? You can’t for the life of you figure out how this works. Sanemi is quiet for a moment, and you steal a glance at him to see what he’s so quiet for. 

“Well how about this,” he says, a few moments later. You raise a brow, curious. “How about you start by playing with your tits, yeah? Let me see how you touch ‘em when I’m not there with you.” He doesn’t even hesitate, the words coming out of his mouth with ease. As if he’s done this before. You try not to think about that and instead you’re more hyper focused on his words, staring down at your hands. 

“Do you want me to take my shirt off?”

“Yeah. You’re not wearing a bra, are you?”

You shyly nod. Of course you weren’t wearing a bra—you’re at home! Hell, you rarely wear bras to begin with; especially with him. 

“Okay. Shirt off then.”

You take a moment to regulate your breathing, then your shaky hands reach down, grasping at the hem of your shirt and you start to pull it over your head. In the back of your mind, you can hear the lyrics of the infamous song playing in the back of your mind. 

I wanna touch on you, 

You see me in my room.

Wish you were here right now, 

All of the things I’d do

As you toss your shirt aside, you shake your hair out, running your fingers through it and arching your back subconsciously as you go. From the other side, you hear Sanemi take a shaky breath.

“Fuck, you look so good,” he praises, which of course makes your cheeks redden a little more, but you’re encouraged by this. Literally, all you’ve done was take your shirt off, and he’s already enjoying it. 

“You said you wanted me to touch myself right? Play with my tits?” you question, playing coy. It feels so weird, allowing your fingers to brush over your lower stomach, tickling along your ribcage as your eyes watch your boyfriend’s reactions, seeing how the dark violet of his irises darken even more as he stares at you. Enraptured by the little show you’re giving him, even though it’s shy. It’s still undeniably sexy to him, and you can tell he’s enjoying it. Your fingers move a little shakily, from nerves, but you’re emboldened by his intense stare. Emboldened enough to gently grasp at your breasts, squeezing them and letting out a soft groan as you do so. Brushing your thumb over your nipples to tweak them to harden, lips parting as you squeeze your legs together. Having his eyes so intently on you like this is. . . .embarrassing, but oddly arousing. He’s quiet, taking everything in, and you can see how he swallows thickly at the sight. You giggle at this, which causes his eyes to dart up to yours. 

“Enjoying the show, Sane?”

“What the fuck do you expect,” he grits, strained. You hum to yourself lightly as you continue to toy with your breasts. 

“You should touch yourself too,” your voice is soft, but you figure it would be nice to watch him as well. “I don’t want to be the only one doing anything, I don’t think that’s how it works,” you add with a giggle, pitching into a soft moan as you pinch at your right nipple, pleasure shooting down your spine. They’re hard now, almost painfully so, and you have to cross your legs a little more. 

Sanemi moves, cursing under his breath and grabs his phone and laptop, transporting you to somewhere else. You squeak, immediately grabbing your computer and standing, holding it so it only has your face in the frame. “Sanemi! Don’t just wave me around, what if Genya sees?” you yelp, embarrassed. He gives you a hard look. “I’d just have to claw his eyes out myself. No way in hell I’m letting him see you like that, {y/n],” he grumbles, passing through the living room—had he really not been in his room this whole time?—and continues. 

“O-oh aniki! He-”

“Don’t fucking talk to me right now Genya I’m fucking busy,” he shuts the dark haired boy down quickly, and you can feel the way Genya wilts in confusion, and you almost laugh. It seems maybe you should move too, and so you decide to move over to your bed, sitting down with your laptop as Sanemi moves about to his bedroom, eager waiting for his return. The little moment of him moving to get more comfortable and private warms your heart—he’s always so protective of people seeing you in such a state honestly it’s kind of cute—and it helps you relax. This wasn’t a big deal. It’s just you and Sanemi; he’ll enjoy whatever you give him when it comes to your body. So you lean back on your pillow, laptop on your chest as you rub your smooth legs together, humming to yourself as he continues. Finally getting to his room, you hear him shut and lock the door, then finally he looks at you again as he moves to sit in a chair he keeps in his room, though sets his laptop on his desk, sitting away from it so you can see him better. 

“It’s about time. Were you really gonna let me fuck myself while you sat in the open for people to see?” You taunt, enjoying how he looks at you as if he’d strangle you. Riling him up was so easy. 

“Ha ha, you talk a lot of shit about getting seen [y/n]. What, don’t tell me you want someone to see you?” he questions, and your cheeks warm. Honestly, you’ve never really thought about exhibitionism or even voyeurism, yet you can’t help but feel the pit of your stomach twitch at the thought of someone catching you two. The thrill of doing something so lewd is exciting, you realize, and maybe he’s a bit right. 

“So? What if I say yeah?” you question, shifting so that you’re sitting up now, moving to where your legs are spread apart as you nestle your laptop between them. On the bed, where he can see you like this. He sucks in a breath, shifting in his chair as he eyes you. His reaction says it all, causing you to smirk. “What? You want someone to see me?” you question, playfully though. You trail your hands down over your thighs, eyes on him as he watches your movements, then you smile at  him. 

“I didn’t think you’d entertain the idea of someone seeing me like this,” you taunt. He can’t help but glare at you. Of course not, but the idea of showing that you’re his is a different story. Why share what was his and his only? He was serious about you—you were his and his only. 

“Panties off,” is all he says, voice full of lead and gravel as he struggles. When you glance at him, you can see the bulge tenting in his jeans and it takes everything in you not to grin. 

“Impatient much,” you tsk, though you do as asked. Shifting to grasp at the waistband, you slither the fabric down your creamy legs, tossing them over off the side of your bed. Humming, you part your legs a little more, letting him get a clear view of how wet you’d gotten from just playing with your breasts with his eyes on you. Your hands slip down, closer to your inner thighs to ghost over your heat. From the other side, you can hear a soft fuck, as well as the sound of clothes, rustling.

“Damn, I’m so tempted to just come over and fuck you stupid,” and you’re so tempted to let him, but you frown, glancing at him. 

“No. Well, not yet at least,” you’re set on this! You’d worked up to this point and here he was, cock out and stroking it as he watches you with a hazy, hard stare. You shiver a little, though lean your head back against the pillows. Propped up so he can see everything. “Wanna finish first,” you mumble, struggling to hold out for your own self, tempted to just dive your fingers in. But instead, you allow your middle and ring finger to ghost over the dampness of your folds, mewling softly at the motion. You’re sensitive from arousal, and he has a front-row seat to witness all of it. 

“Fuck, baby,” he growls, the grip he has on his cock tightening. As he strokes up, his thumb collects the precum beading at the head, slathering it over his shaft a bit sloppily, but his eyes remain trained on your glistening core through the screen. “Look at that slutty pussy. All wet for what? You’re enjoying getting off for me that much?” he taunts, and you whine in the back of your throat from it. Goddamn his dirty mouth. But it’s true; you are enjoying it. There was nothing like being the cause of your boyfriend’s pleasure, and it excites you to be able to do so. “S-Sanemi,” you breathe shakily, fingers getting a little bolder and slipping between your slickness, brushing over your clit jerkily. You twitch, wheezing. Since when were so you damn sensitive?

🌸🌱🌸🌱🌸🌱🌸🌱🌸🌱🌸🌱🌸

“Look at you,” he croons. His voice sounds sweet, but there’s a jagged ruggedness to it. You can hear the faint sound of him jerking off, and when you crane your head a little you can see how his hand grips his swollen cock, tugging at it quickly but at a pace that—hopefully—going to keep himself from cumming too quickly. And honestly, even if he did he’s sure he’d get hard again at the sight of you right now. Legs spread, trying not to overindulge yourself with pleasure despite wanting to. “Your slutty pussy. You want my cock that bad?” he questions, and you moan in response, legs squirming as you try to rub at your nub a little faster. “Goddamn, when we finish I’m coming over to fuck you like you want. Just like you like it,” he huffs. All you can do is nod, closing your eyes and leaning your head back as you speed up. Your fingers move swiftly, the same fingers on your clit moving to slip inside your wet cunt with a squelching noise that’s loud enough for him to hear. Your noises increase in volume, thumb brushing against your clit and pressing against it, then rubs over it again. Trying to match the way you withdraw your fingers and shove them back in. Trying to do it like Sanemi does it, but your fingers are too thin and small to fit all the way. Frustrated, your eyes water as you huff. 

“S-sane, I can’t reach,” you pant, whining as you try again and again and fail, but on the bright side you’re giving him quite the show, watching your slick dribble out of you soaked pussy to the point where he feels like he’s about to jump through the screen. You’re too damn sexy like this! Maybe agreeing to this wasn’t a good idea; he doesn’t think he could handle it if you two had to actually do this because one of you wasn't able to see the other. Not that he’s overly attached or anything, but he doesn’t think he could handle this on a regular basis. Hell, he’s barely handling it now. His self control is wavering by the minute, the only thing helping it being his amusement at the fact that your small fingers can’t pleasure you like he can. Like he will, when the two of you finish. 

“Needy slut,” his words burn a fire in your loins and you twitch, thumb moving quicker. You withdraw your fingers fully to focus instead on furiously rubbing your clit, figuring he’d come over and finger you properly. You can’t even do it on your own now that you have him. It’s like he knows how to hit those spots perfectly, and it’s entirely unfair that he can do that. “Can’t even fuck yourself without me? Fucking pathetic,” he continues, watching how you abuse your own pearl which excites him further. He’s so close.

And so are you, based on the way your back starts arching. You can feel your bedsheets soaking under your ass from the way you leak, and the wet, sloshing noises continue yet you can’t even feel embarrassed. Right now you’re drowning in pleasure, and Sanemi keeps going, verbally berating you and turning you on in such a way you almost cry out. It’s like he’s there; growling these same words into your ear, into your skin. Burning his possession into you as well as the intensity of his gaze that you can feel as the cord tightens within you, on the verge of snapping as your climax approaches. 

He cums first, thick ropes of white painting his hand, dripping onto the floor between where he sits. Ragged breaths escaping his parted lips. He looks away for a moment in his own haze, but then remembers you and jerks his eyes back up to you to watch as you come undone mere moments later, back arching beautifully as you cry out his name, calling for him even as your body trembles with the waves of your orgasm. It’s quite the sight, and he can’t lie—he’s feeling himself harden yet again. 

When you come down from your high, you lay on your bed, giggling. Glancing down at the computer screen tiredly, catching Sanemi getting up jerkily to clean his hand, but in the process is zipping his jeans back up and looking around for his shoes. You blink slowly. Where was he going?

“Baby, where are you going?”

“Don’t play dumb [y/n], I’m coming to finish what you started,” he shoots a look at you through the screen and you laugh, laying starfished in bed for a bit longer before reaching down for your laptop, grabbing it and holding it to where you can see him better as he grabs his phone. 

“Okay, well hurry up then,” you grin, rolling onto your stomach. He has a key to get in, so you figure you don’t have to get up. 

Besides, you think it’s best for you to get into position and wait on him anyway. 

-x

[belpheroo]

Title: Fear & Loving in Devildom, Part 1 Pairing: Belphegor x MC Rating: 🍋 Summary: Belphie is guilt-ridden, but also horny. Funny how often those two things coincide when you catch feels for the girl you killed. Notes: Another sequel to A “maybe” and On the Way to a “Yes”. Why do all my mature fics have pictures? No idea. But enjoy this edit of Belphie with an “o” blush. This... is basically a pwp at this point.

In hindsight, perhaps the kiss was ill-advised.

This was the first thought that slipped through Belphegor’s mind when he woke up, a human girl asleep in his bed, wrapped up tightly in blankets to keep her roaming hands at bay. Having to result to bunting in this day and age was truly incredible, but so was this girl’s intense desire to get him out of his clothes.

This. This was his punishment. His personally designed hell within Hell.

That is what he told himself as he lay, aching and wanting underneath her just the night before. He’d even risked touching her as she did him, over her clothes, but still enough to make his body respond and thrum with heat. She had gotten her hand down between them, palming him through his pants before he managed to tear her hands away and roll over to recover, half curled in on himself and groaning with frustration.

Just take me, she had said. Brazen, foolish, irresponsible human. She had no idea what that meant when spoken to a demon. He couldn’t be his own self-control and hers!

Instead, she ended up straight jacketed into a fluffy blanket and he counted backwards from 5000 until his body calmed and he felt sleepy again instead of wired and awake.

Like he said. Hell.

—

Of all the people who had to understand humans in… this matter, Asmo was Belphegor’s only hope. He caught his brother between RAD classes and he was all too happy to take in the gossip.

“There is this… student.” Belphegor began carefully.

“Hmm?” Asmo hummed, eyes sparkling with interest.

“She— we… okay, look. We kiss. We touch, but she keeps pushing for more and I don’t know how to talk her out of it.”

Asmo looked positively beaming and the sight alone made Belphegor start to think he had made a huge mistake.

“Aww, Belphie! I’m sure if you just explain to her that you aren’t ready she will listen! Though I can’t imagine what is holding you back…”

“Oh no, I’m ready. I’m always one provocation away from fucking her to death, that’s the problem. I gotta get her to stop wanting me so I don’t get the opportunity.”

Asmo stared, silent and wide eyed.

“… is that a euphemism for your eagerness or an actual concer—“

“Actual concern.”

“Why in the world do you think having sex with her will kill her?”

“Overzealousness? Superior strength? Going demon in the moment?”

“Really?!” Asmo gasped for dramatic effect, “You think you would? Sheesh, you really do wanna bang this girl!”

“Immensely.”

“Good! I’m so proud of you! Though… I still don’t get why you think that would hurt her. A good ole RAD girl isn’t going to wilt like a delicate flower over you, Belphie. You aren’t exactly Lucifer.”

Ah. Asmo thought he was referring to another demon. Why wouldn’t he? There was only one human female in Devildom. He thought to just come out with it, to say who it was, but then it struck him that within a day every one of his brother’s would know his predicament and if Lucifer heard he’d be imprisoned in that damn attic for the rest of his life.

This was… a calculated error.

“Yeah. Uh. Guess you’re right. Just… been awhile.” Belphegor said, trying to back off the topic.

“I’ll say. I never pegged you for the type, Belphie.” Asmo said, tone going sing-song as he waggled an eyebrow at him.

“Well if you need any fun treats for the occasion you just let me know. I have a whole assortment of condoms, flavored and regular! Also some things to help spice things up… but maybe we’ll save that for your second or third go.”

“…I regret speaking to you.”

Asmo clapped his hands together joyfully, “Then my job is done!”

—

By the end of the day, Belphegor actually had considered for half a second turning himself into Lucifer on his own. He dreaded each ticking hour, knowing full well she would come bouncing up to him, smiling slyly with her greedy little mitts ready to grip and pull and hold him down while she sealed her lips over his again and again the moment they were alone.

He’d fallen asleep once during a make-out session. That’s how often this madness was occurring, but he liked it too much to stop. He liked her too much to stop. The time where he had supervised visits with her was long over by now and with how little time they had left until the end of the year, Belphegor treasured every single moment he had her all to himself.

And yet, he was wracked with anxiety that he’d hurt her. Again.

Classes ended for the day and sure enough by the time he was halfway back inside the House of Lamentation she was waiting for him.

“Beel is in your guys’ room.” She said, and Belphegor made a soft sound of understanding.

“And Mammon might come poking around if we go to my room.”

He knew where this was going.

“Soooo… you wanna go take a nap in the a t t i c?” She spelled out the word, careful to keep her voice down with the other brothers funneling back home.

“I’ll just go nap in my room.” Belphegor said, trying to keep his voice even and nonchalant.

“…oh. Okay.”

Belphegor restrained a groan at the disappointment in her voice, shooting a direct line of guilt into his chest.

“You can still come with me,” he continued, “Beel would be happy to get some time alone too.”

She pouted, but kept her voice quiet, “Belphie, I want a kiss.”

“You always do.” He said, meaning to sound begrudgingly affectionate, but instead it came out more exasperated. Her cheeks flushed but it had nothing to do with embarrassment.

“I think I’ll just go hang out with Mammon then. You go take your nap.”

He felt his heart sink a fraction.

“… you don’t do the same kinda stuff with Mammon do you?”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” She said, voice stiffening and doing nothing to ease the faint edge of jealousy spreading in his chest.

“I mean, do you ask him to kiss you?”

“Sometimes!” She said, crossing her arms and shifting her weight to one side as she cocked her hip.

“I like Mammon. I hug and kiss people I like.”

“… are you serious?” His voice was hushed but harsh.

“It’s not like I belong to you, Belphegor.”

It wasn’t intentional, but within a second there was a sudden surge of a sulfuric smell and his visage changed, horns curling at his temples and his tail swishing violently around his ankles until it snaked out and wrapped around her ankle. She yelped, stumbling so that he had to catch her.

“What did you say?” He hissed, holding her tightly against his chest, his grip unyielding and hard enough to make her breath flutter in her chest.

“…I don’t belong to you.” She repeated, voice low and her eyes narrowed. There was no fear in her tone and in her gaze was a familiar heated sparkle that jarred Belphegor with recognition.

She was toying with him.

“Upstairs. Now.”

Her lips spread into a sensuous smile, self-satisfied and smug.

“Well, since you asked so nicely.” She said, pulling back. Belphegor refused to let her go for a few seconds, just to remind her of the strength in his arms and that she would leave when he allowed it.

The sudden possessiveness passed him as quickly as it came and he let go of her quickly, remembering himself and trying to quell the anxious feeling that had replaced the emotion in his chest.

Belphegor gave her a wilting look, shoulders sagging just a fraction in disappointment at himself for being so easily baited. Regardless, he followed her up the stairs, trying to keep his eyes off the way she was deliberately swaying her hips with each excited little half jump up the steps.

When they got to the attic door she turned to press her back against the wood, hands behind her back on the doorknob.

“I don’t really do that stuff with Mammon.”

Belphegor said nothing.

“Just you.”

He made a gruff sound, stepping forward and pressing against her as he took hold of the doorknob over her hand and pushed it open. She stumbled, but kept herself up right with a giggle as she unzipped her jacket and tossed it on the floor before sitting on the edge of his old bed.

She was working on the little snap buttons on the side of her ankle boots, kicking them off with a smile as she leaned back on the heels of her palms.

She spread her thighs open slightly, flashing her panties from beneath her RAD uniform skirt. They were pastel pink and made with delicate lace. Slowly she slipped her thumb under the hem of her thigh-high socks, sliding them down just the smallest fraction.

“You still wanna nap?”

He said her name, not soft and sensuous but firm and serious. Her expression changed, brow furrowing slightly as she slowly closed her legs.

“…We need to talk.”

“Uh-oh.”

“I’m sorry, it’s not… it’s nothing bad it’s just—“

“Belphie.” She sat up, raising a hand to stop him. Her other hand patted the side of the bed next to her, “C’mere. I’ll behave myself, I promise.”

Her tone had changed too and it was enough to help ease the tension arching through his body. With a sigh, Belphegor sulked over and sat next to her, shoulders falling forward.

“I’m not dumb, Belphie. I know something is up, but I figured when you were ready you’d just tell me… which was probably not how I should have handled it.”

She gently took his hand within hers and after a moment, he curled his fingers around her own.

“I like you. I really like you, Belphie. I wanna be with you because I like you so much, not because I’m… ya know.”

“Insatiable?”

“I was gonna say ‘thirsty as fuck’ but that sounds better!”

Belphegor chuckled despite himself and her smile became genuine and amused. It helped relax him.

“I still don’t get you.”

“Because of what happened?”

“Not specifically. I’m worried that…”

Why was it so hard to say to her? He’d told Asmo easily but now looking at her he felt the words get caught in his throat.

“You’re worried if we’re intimate you’ll accidentally hurt me.”

Belphegor sighed.

“Demons are stronger than humans. When our emotions are heightened that raises ten-fold.”

She smiled and suddenly burst into a fit of giggles. Belphegor started at her, wide eyed.

“You’re just so unbelievably sweet, you know that?”

He sputtered because he did not know that! A scowl flashed over his face as he shook his head.

“That is not a word anyone has used to describe me for a very, very long ass time.”

“There is absolutely no way you’re going to hurt me you big idiot.”

“Y-you don’t know that!”

She only laughed, leaning in to rest her cheek against his shoulder. He stiffened, sitting up straighter as he felt his face go hot. How could she laugh at him over this?! It was a serious situation!

“You do love me.” She said, rubbing her cheek against him, “Sometimes I wondered, ya know? You’re always so damn aloof!”

Belphegor didn’t even know what to say, opening and closing his mouth several times before he settled on a frustrated groan.

“…you don’t understand anything, per usual.”

She sat back from him, a curious look on her face as he turned towards her. She yelped as he shoved her down, pinning her to the bed, his hand gently finding its way around her neck and keeping her firmly in place. He straddled her thighs, using his own legs to keep her down before looming over her with a look in his eyes that made her pulse jump beneath his hand.

“‘Love’ doesn’t begin to describe what I want. I have owned your death and now I would own your life. Your body. The very depths of your soul. I want everything you have to give, I want the things you wouldn’t give to anyone else.”

His hand tightened, but not enough to cut off her breathing. The placement of his hand did more to cut off her blood flow then her breath, making her head spin as she looked up at him through her eyelashes.

Belphegor leaned down to press a kiss to them, her eyelid fluttering shut beneath his lips.

“Are you prepared for that? Are you ready for what it means to be mine? …I don’t know if you are.”

He kissed her, gentle and slow. The softness of the kiss was cut short suddenly when she set her teeth into his bottom lip, sharp and hard enough to almost draw blood. Belphegor jerked back, a growl in his throat. She smiled mischievously up at him.

“Careful. I bite.”

“You’ll beg too.”

His voice was a low rumble, turning her head to the side and latching his teeth to the side of her bare neck. He was not gentle, sucking fiercely until he was certain the skin would be bruised and red. She whimpered, but the sound was more pleasure than pain as he worried the sore spot with his tongue.

“Belphie…” she keened, “…make a pact with me.”

“Finally,” He said, breath hot on her skin, “You begin to understand.”

“Give yourself to me.”

“That’s my line.” Belphegor whispered, releasing her neck and gently running his fingertips through her hair. She mirrored the touch, trailing her hand into the hair at the back of his neck and curling her fingers there. Her other hand rubbed a path up his chest, massaging into his skin as she fisted his shirt into her grip.

“It’s mine too.”

—

How had he resisted this for so long? How could he have denied himself the touch of her bare skin against his? She was so unbelievably soft, despite the harshness in which she gripped her thighs around his waist. Her nipples pebbled hard when he pressed his chest against hers. He could feel the heat radiating from between her legs against his hips, but he’d yet to possess her yet. Belphegor was more focused on leaving his mark on her neck and across her collarbone, making her as spotted as himself.

Her hand curled at the base of one of his horns, finger brushing against the ridges of it. He liked her touch there, his tail curling around her calf gently if only to give himself another point of contact.

The pact was already made. The sensation of connection was strong now, tying him to her and her whims, though she had yet to make use of it. She liked him being in control, she liked him making decisions for her in this moment, letting her just enjoy the sensation of touch.

She’d left a mark of her own, right at the juncture of his shoulder and his neck, but Belphegor would wear such a bite with pride, even if he did give her a small punishing spank to the side of her thigh when she gave it to him.

“C’mon… c’mon…” she panted, rocking her hips against him in a bid to slide the length of him up against her core.

“So impatient.” Belphegor said with a soft laugh, “You make it so difficult to treat you nicely.”

He hefted her up, turning unto his side and then his back. He sunk comfortably into the bed, hands stroking up and down her thighs as she sat above him.

“Take care of it yourself… I’m tired.”

“Lazy cow.” She mumbled, but hardly had a reason to complain now that she was in the perfect position to get exactly what she wanted. He rose up his hand and smacked her on the backside, earning himself a rock of her hips.

“Come here then.” She sighed, sitting up on her knees. Her hand wrapped around him, taking her time to feel the soft silky skin and admire how hard it was beneath it. Belphegor hummed contently, kneading his hands into her hips as she guided the tip of him between her legs, letting his head just barely kiss her folds.

She was ungodly wet, using his head to rub against her swollen bud before she pushed him back towards her entrance and slipped down, inch by delicious inch. His tail tightened around her leg, his throat working as a groan wracked through his throat at the sheer tightness. The hot, textured feel of her walls, clutching and spasming as she adjusted to him was as close to the celestial realm as he was ever going to get again.

Belphegor ran his hand up her stomach to her breast, gently palming over the soft delicate skin and thumbing her nipple until it was swollen and pink.

She rocked a few times, slipping him in to the hilt until she was sitting perfectly flush against his hips. She rested one hand back on her own calf, leaning back to angle her hips just so. Belphegor took the time to admire where they were connected, wet and glistening. She rose and fell slightly and he moaned at the mere sight of himself disappearing into her.

She sought out his hand with her other, lacing their fingers together as she lifted again and slid down onto him in slow, agonizing thrusts. He let the hand on her breast fall to her hip, helping to hold her steady as he occasionally lifted his hips to push up into her when she came down.

Her face was a picture of absolute ecstasy, lips parted and kiss swollen, skin flushing prettily from her cheeks down to her chest. She was always so god damned lewd, but nothing about this was for show. Belphegor knew he looked positively wrecked himself, expression painted with the pleasures of comfort and sex.

They moved together, slow and relaxed and relishing in the simple enjoyment of being connected. She’d been right. Belphegor had never felt so safe. From himself and from the world. Here with her, here inside her… he had never felt so perfectly content. Her soft chants of ‘yes’ and quiet moans was a sweeter sound than any angelic choir.

Her breath came quicker, head lolling slightly to the side as she lost herself in the rise and fall of her own hips. Her pace was losing its steady rhythm, going fast and then slow as she found an angle that made his head rub right up against the bundle of nerves against her upper walls. Her thighs trembled as she whimpered out a soft cry. She was clutching tighter now, unrelenting and steadily rising as her thrusts became shallow and short.

Belphegor pushed his shoulders down into the bed, bracing himself as he rocked upwards, edging her on as her pink skin turned ever more red and blotchy.

“Fuck… I’m going to cum. Belphie… Belphie…” She gasped with complete abandon, “Belphie, I’m going to cum.”

God dammit, if she kept talking like that, so was he. He smoothed his hand down from her hip to her center, pressing the pad of his thumb firmly against her clit. He didn’t even have to rub, the touch alone snapped the cord of tension, spasms wracking over her body and clutching their way down the shaft of him as she broke apart.

Belphegor’s eyelids fluttered closed just so she wouldn’t get the satisfaction of seeing his eyes roll back in his head. His balls pulled tight against him as his cock flexed and jerked and he came inside her. Belphegor held back a cry in his throat at just how rapidly he was spurting, pulsating erratically as she practically milked each drop from him. Exhaustion nearly immediately overtook him, but he resisted the burden of his Avatar through sheer force of will.

“Ow…Bel…your tail..” She mumbled, tugging gently at the side of his tail. He had wrapped it around her so tightly her skin was indenting. Belphegor let go immediately, holding an arm around her to keep her in place as he sat up and checked the damage.

“M’okay.” She said, wrapping her arms around his neck and nuzzling her nose against his hairline, damp with sweat. Belphegor sighed with relief, hands running up her back and down a few times before he wrapped his arms around her.

“You okay?” She asked, voice quiet in his ear.  He nodded, strands of his hair tickling her cheek as he did so.

“I love you.” Belphegor said, as simple and direct as if he were stating the sky were blue. She wouldn’t have expected it any other way.

“Goodie.” She said with a deep breath, giving her hips a little wiggle around him. He was still hard, but knew he would soften soon. Belphegor felt the slow slide of wetness as his own cum slid down his shaft from inside her, messy and warm.

“You feel so good.” She cooed, pressing kisses to his neck, open and hot.

Alright. Maybe it wouldn’t be that soon.

—

She used the pact to tap out by the sixth round, thighs creamy and wet and trembling. Shame. He had hoped to make it a solid seven.

[glare-a13]

so i finished the jeanlisa playlist! not many songs on there, but here it is :) it’s around half an hour in total, so not too bad. i figured i’d do a post explaining why i chose the songs and the (sort of) story i imagine behind it. explanations will be under the cut!

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/20XrumZtYBRtvWDBRfFaBf?si=2ny92pKySM6bD3KB_G4oig&dl_branch=1

talk about death/grief below the cut

the dandelion stands alone. the roses that once stood beside it have wilted, their lavender hue faded and their petals dried.

the overall story i had in mind for this playlist was jean dealing with the death of lisa due to her curse. it’ll be of course, from jean’s perspective but i think i have one or two that i imagined as lisa speaking. if you guys have other interpretations or think another order could be better, comment below or send it in my ask box! i’m super excited to hear what y’all think :))

die alone -ingrid michaelson

we open up with jean and her perspective on love

i’ve always thought that die alone could work for so many characters, like maki harukawa from danganronpa especially,

but i figured it could be a good one to open up this playlist with

just to show how lisa sorta

crashed her way into her life and made her realize that she isn’t just fated for some

noble.. knight… life.. yes ..?????

besties idk how to explain it but i hope w listening to the lyrics you get the gist <3

pink in the night -mitski

and here’s our first one from lisa’s perspective!

hah

what if i told you i think of it as lisa feeling alone/isolated in her final days

because

because she hadn’t told jean about the curse from the book

and she doesn’t want her darling to worry about her

she believes jean already has enough on her plate… that poor woman… she loved her so much she couldn’t bear to break the news to her

so she allows jean to continue working, without having to worry about her

hah

hm.

where’d all the time go -dr. dog

THE CHORUS

“she gets dressed up like a pillow, so she’s always iN BED / FLOWERS FOR THE SICK AND DEAD / SHE’S ON THE GO / WAY TOO FAST AND WAY TOO SLOW”

i just think. this tragic song fits lisa’s situation with the book.

i imagine this as lisa actually dying from the curse

whereas the last song is more of lisa thinking about her regrets and wanting jean to not worry about her

yet longing to spend time with her in her final days

i actually put this at the end of the playlist at first, but moved it when i thought of the point above

but “she’s on the go, way too fast and way too slow” just HURTS because i imagine jean saying it like

she doesn’t want lisa to die, but she also can’t handle watching her suffer

telephones -vacations

“i wish i could live without you / but you’re a part of me”

:))

yeah i don’t think this one needs much of an explanation

jean thinks about all the time she could’ve spent with lisa, remembering back to her fondest memories with her

regretting that she couldn’t have made more memories

hehe

rises the moon -liana flores

this one i imagine as lisa watching over jean in the afterlife

speaking reassurances and wanting to comfort her even with no way of contact

trying, urging her to move on so she can do her best to protect mondstadt, the city she loves, like she’s always wanted

she knows it’s hard to lose a loved one

the days go on… she cannot let this pull her too far from her routine

I ALSO THINK THIS CAN BE IMAGINED AS LISA VISITING JEAN THROUGH A DREAM

like the first point on this song but she speaks to jean through a dream

to reassure her that she’ll always be by her side

man i love this song sm it’s so comforting…

francis forever -mitski

now for the sake of this playlist, i’m taking some of the lyrics of this song very literally

like even the first verse…

i mean the first two lines already hit hard

lisa provided jean w something wonderful, making sure she took care of herself and keeping her company even when she overworked herself hunched over papers in the grandmaster’s office

oH! if you wanna think abt it more, i suggest going to genius lyrics and looking at the annotations made by people there, it’s a wonderful way to look at lyrics from others’ perspectives

and DON’T GET ME STARTED ON THE SECOND VERSE

“on sunny days i go out walking / i end up on a tree lined street / i look up at the gaps of sunlight / i miss you more than anything”

A A A A A A A A A A A A A A A A

AND

I DIDN’T EVEN NOTICE THIS, BUT RISES THE MOON HAS A LINE THAT SAYS

“oh close your weary eyes / i promise you that soon the autumn comes / to darken fading summer skies”

AND FRANCIS FOREVER

THE SECOND CHORUS

“and autumn comes when you’re not yet done / with the summer passing by”

AA A A A A A A A A A AA AA A

feel better -penelope scott

i mostly did this one for the first verse

like,, “no one’s ever gonna love me like that again”

ouch

“i don’t wanna get over you / i wanna sit with you in bed”

i also think of this as the… the bitterness jean feels

what once was -her’s

another one that i feel,, doesn’t really need explanation

the first verse already smacks you in the face

“i guess i knew this would happen to you / inside i did but i refused to know the truth”

she just didn’t expect lisa would go so soon, you know?

they had barely gotten to spend time together

but time is cruel, crueler to some more than others

it’s unfortunate lisa was a part of that.

i didn’t know -skinshape

i actually made an entire post abt this!

check the posts under the jeanlisa tag on my profile, it should have the song linked and i have a whole explanation about it and why i think it fits them

do better -cuco

i just thought this was a nice way to end things

perhaps set in the future, when jean has started to accept lisa’s death and is coming to terms with her being gone

knowing that even though she’s gone from the mortal realm, the love they shared will always follow her.

and that’s all! hope this all made some sort of sense; i won’t really be proofreading it or anything since it’s just bullet points mostly. but yeah, this playlist was super fun to make, even through the tears- if you think i should make more, i think i should be having either a regular, non angsty jeanlisa one or a ganyu one on the way, so woOHOO !!

[soulwillower]

heart eyes • bill denbrough

(bill denbrough x reader smut)

requested: no ;)

warnings: swearing, smut, oral (fem receiving), body worship!!, fluff, road trip w the losers, underage drinking, body shots, praise kink bc its me, a lil dirty talk, this one is kinda tame, its fluffy :) ALSO THIS IS SO UNEDITED SORRY

i was going through all my writing and i found this smut i wrote a while ago!! im p sure its the first smut i ever wrote n i never posted it, i figured i would rn :)

[losers + reader are aged up 18+ in this.]

6.2k words lol

♡

“i mean this trip would’ve been fun, no matter what. listen! guys, i love you! and... and i fucking love that we don’t always have to be inebriated to have fun.” stan exclaims, gangly limbs sprawled on the floor as ben starts giggling. stan pays no mind, “but listen, listen. i am soooo happy that we brought this stuff though, you know?” stan continues to babble on drunkenly, eliciting giggles from all the kids in the room. he’s waving an almost empty bottle of smirnoff. you giggle softly.

thankfully, ben had actually managed to sweet talk a coworker from the diner in order to score the losers a few handles of alcohol, and you’d nearly finished off the smirnoff and all are a few hearty swigs into the bottle of strawberry burnett’s and fireball.

your cheeks are very red.

you know your cheeks are burning.

but bill’s loose arm around your waist has your skin burning even hotter. you don’t want to think of it as anything more than platonic, because with a quick glance to your right, you see his other arm holding eddie in the same fashion. you're just friends, and always have been.

bill is just a very outgoing and flirty person when drunk.  

and if you had voiced this aloud, bill denbrough would probably have had to agree. he barely felt his arm where it lay across eddie, but his arm that was cradling you feels like it is dead weight.

god, he’s got it so fucking bad for you. the conversation lulls as a familiar tune plays through the speaker, making most losers scrunch their nose and laugh. y/n and richie, as always, have other plans.

not even a measure into the song, richie screeches and pulls you into his chest, already swaying you as your alluring voices blend together as perfectly as they always do.

the two drunkenly sing together for the entire duration of the song, serenading each other in a sweet, albeit weird (in a way, bill decides, that only richie and you can achieve) fashion. the lanky boy twirls you around, and you're giggling and laughing and smiling so brightly, and the others are all smiling happily.

and bill just knows, looking from richie’s face, to stan, then mike, bev, ben, and then to eddie right next to him, that everybody in the room has just fallen a little more in love with you.

you're a fucking angel. just like heaven…

and, knowing deep down that it was highly unlikely, bill still hoped he could some day call that angel his own.

-

bill takes a moment to breathe as the seven of his best friends huddle in the weak circle they’ve formed after quite a few drinks.

the speaker plays soft music. the kind of music - you recall loudly to everyone with a smile - that ‘stanny’ plays in his own car on days in the summer when he lets you roll down the passenger side window and stick your feet out as they speed down the town roads.

“you know why-“ mike starts, interrupting himself with a hiccup. he giggles, and bill smiles. “-you know why i love you?” he says, question directed at ben. ben chuckles, face red from the contents of his near empty cup, and shrugs.

“no, wait, i’m not drunk enough for the sappy stuff.” you whine, biting your lip as you glances over to bill.

he averts his eyes, chastising himself in his head immediately after for being a little schoolboy.

“fine, y/l/n. truth or dare?” mike says with a cheeky smile. richie hollers and you scoff, shaking your head. across the room, eddie does the same.

“c’mon, mikey… i haven’t played that since sophomore year.” you say, face revealing a teasing smile which betrays your tone. bev shrugs, leaning back into ben’s chest. “dunno, could be fun.” she says.

bill watches closely as y/n sends a long look to bev, who shoots her best friend a suggestive glance.

bill wishes sometimes that he could hear beverly and y/n’s thoughts and secret conversations, but after a flash memory of the time when he walked in (after listening to silence for nearly three minutes before entering) on the two girls staring at the other in complete silence, he shivers and retracts that wish.

those girls were creepily telekinetic.

y/n’s sigh pulls bill back to earth. “fine.” you say, rolling your eyes and sounding bored. bill knew better than to believe y/n could really be bored. he stares at your body as you take a hefty swig from your cup, wiping your mouth and slurring, “truth.”

“out of all the people in this room, whose clothing style would you choose to swap with?” mike asks after some moments of silence. you look like you're thinking very, very hard and this makes bill laugh in drunken stupor. his friends shoot him a confused look, but attention quickly lies back on y/n.

“stan, maybe. or eddie bear.” y/n says, flopping into eddie’s lap, making him blush and card his fingers through your hair. “I love all those cute shorts.” you say, throwing a wink in richie’s direction.

bill has to laugh at the expression on the curly haired boy’s face. he has to admit, though, that eddie looks fucking great in those shorts. the two boys both respond idly, though, and the game continues, getting dumber and more risqué the more drinks they share.

mike admits to wearing briefs over boxers, bev admits that the first girl she kissed was y/n. ben has to jump into the broken hot tub, and eddie takes a body shot off of richie.

"bill, who do you think is the best kisser?" bev smirks, shooting a look that he doesn't understand but, on a much more transcendental level, understands too well.

"if you don't say me, i'll be mad." richie says, making kissy faces that make ben push the side of his face away with a chuckle. bill laughs lightly, but his lips move quicker than his brain. "y/n, probably."

seven pairs of eyes land on him and he blinks, face heating until he's surely a tomato. "wh-what? you a-asked." he says awkwardly, and to change the subject, stan clears his throat, "y/n's turn!"

bill shoots him a grateful look, but stan gives him a stare that screams make a move, dumbass.

"okay, dare." you mumble, cheeks slightly dark and a sweet grin on your lips.

“'kay. i dare you...” richie trails off as something catches his drunken eyesight away in the kitchen. he starts to giggle to himself, then. “take a body shot off of bill.” he says, pointing a bony finger at the innocent girl to bill’s left.

bill’s face pales at this, but the liquid courage has him pulling off his shirt at the encouragement of the others merely moments later.

“i’ve yet to take an actual body shot before.” y/n mumbles, explaining how you've always done them off shoulders or necks.

“lick, shoot, suck.” bill mumbles, staring at the ceiling. bill hears bev giggle quietly.

“don’t forget that last part, y/n.” richie piped up from across the room, the words being followed by a thud and a soft grunt.

“i couldn’t if i tried, rich.” you mumbles as your face comes into view. bill can only smirk up at you when he feels liquid pour into his navel.

“he’s gotta be flexing right now. there’s no way he’s that naturally ripped!” richie complains, his voice looted in a joke. ben laughs as bev slaps richie’s arm.

"sh-shut up, richie." bill mutters with an easy grin.

bill slips a lime wedge into his mouth and his tongue falls upon the rind, tasting the muted citrus flavor as salt is sprinkled in the stretched of his skin between his belly button and his waistband.

 if he wasn't drunk, he'd be a blushing mess.

and he has to try harder than he's ever tried for anything in his entire life to not get hard as you suddenly lean over him, your hot tongue poking out to lick a stripe up the salt.

 he suppresses a groan and then you shoot the shot from his stomach, everyone screaming and cheering and laughing. you're laughing too, and bill's shocked into a stupor by how casually and effortlessly beautiful you are.

you're leaning towards his face now, a soft smile on your face as your lips fall to pluck the lime from his mouth. but before you pull all the way back, he feels your soft lips touch his around the wedge and his whole body ignites, cheeks turning red.

but just as quickly as you were there, you're gone and he's left with the faint taste of lime and a heaving chest, the feeling of your tongue on his body ingrained into his mind.

-

it was about thirty minutes later that all the losers retreated to their rooms to pass out, bill following you a few steps behind. of course, when eddie and bev had planned the sleeping arrangements, they'd insisted that you two share a room. not that he's complaining, not at all.

bill barely gets a minute into the door before you're turning and stepping closer to him. his hands fall to your arms, in his mind as an excuse to steady you, but he knows its because he really just wants to feel you in his arms.

“do you really want to kiss me?” you purr, voice uncharacteristically quiet. and wow, that was out of left field. bill almost laughs, but refrains in case the inebriated girl in his arms took it the wrong way.  “yes, y/n. a-always.”

you beam, a slight hiccup escaping your cherry lips as you get on your tippy toes. you're still half a head shorter than him even on your tips.

his heart thumps as he takes in your beautiful features up close, and he longs to feel your lips against his.

but, instead he shakes his head gently through his drunken state. your face falls and you step back. bill swears the angel’s wings start to droop and wilt as you seem to sober up slightly. you look sad and embarrassed and bill’s heart shatters a fragment.

“y-you’re drunk.” he says lamely, wishing that own his drunk eyes would get on board with his brain and quit running over this girl’s beautiful face and enticing curves. “w-we both a-are.” he adds, biting his lip.

you huff, turning around and bending over to pull sweats out of a drawer. “okay,” you mumble and he can’t read your voice much but he can tell you're upset.

in a drunk thought, he realizes he may never fully understand you.

bill bites his lip at the sight of your perky ass displayed like that in front of him and he wants to smack himself as he feels the familiar heat in his abdomen, turning around to give you privacy as you change.

he doesn’t turn around, as much as you both want him to.

richie once claimed that bill was hornier than he was, and while then he’d laughed especially hard at that claim, bill currently cursed richie a million times for being correct.

“would you reconsider if we were sober?” when a hand lands on bill’s shoulder, he turns to see you staring up at him, wearing a plain blue and white baseball tee and sweats.

it’s quiet for a moment. y/n holds your breath. bill himself lets out a breath after a moment. “you’re fucking beautiful.”

it’s not an answer to your question, even, but he says it before he even realizes it and the look on your face suddenly makes bill wish he could say things like that without stuttering forever if it meant it made you feel like that.

you turn bright red, head dropping down bashfully. you fail to hide your smile drop, though, and it makes bill feel slightly sick. “you don’t have to say that bill.” you whisper, sounding insecure. and then you slip under the dark green duvet of the bed.

bill tells himself that if he were sober, he’d speak up; have the courage to say all the things to you that his mind is constantly screaming.

you are fucking beautiful, everybody knows it..

all our friends see it...

mike once told me you were the hottest person in the school and that was before we even met you, now he also claims you’re the most thoughtful person in existence...

ben thinks you might be the smartest person in our generation...

bev is confident that you are going to change the world some day...

richie calls you his platonic soulmate...and says that you have second most  rockin’ bod (second only because he’s trying to mack on eddie)...

eddie tells me every day how much he looks up to you and how much he admires your strength...

stan once told me that he’d marry you in a heartbeat...

(i think i’m falling for you...)

(and i hope you feel the same...)

your eyes look so innocent...but i know you’re not...

your lips look like they taste like candy...

you are so fucking pretty...

i want to put my dick in your mouth-

his last thought snaps him out of his drunken stupor and he quickly pulls on flannel pants and tugs off his shirt, not missing y/n’s eyes on his bare torso as he pulls on a shirt.

bill. you’re drunk, go to sleep, asshole.

he lays on the edge of the bed, turning off the lamp light and rubs his eyes. your eyes are closed, and you lay on your side, back facing him.

“i’m lucky t’have you, billy. we all are.” you mumble, and bill doesn’t even fight the bashful smile that climbs onto his face. you can’t seem him, anyways.

“g’night, billy.” you finish dreamily, snuggling the comforter and making bill swoon in the dark.

“g-goodnight, y/n.” he says quietly.

-

the next night was much more tame; the losers were worn out after a day of exploring and decided to go to the outdoor pool in the backyard of the b&b you'd rented. 

you sit on the couch by yourself, knowing bill was in your room because he didn't feel like swimming.  

but you were nervous to go in there, because you and bill hadn't been alone since last night when you'd basically confessed to him. and yeah, he'd sort of confessed back, but you could tell he was just trying to be considerate and not make it awkward for you or the rest of the losers.

with a sigh, you rising to your feet and padding to the closed door. soft music plays from the other end of the door and you smile as you hear bill hum quietly to bowie.

when you push the door open, bill’s figure is silhouetted by the faint orange glow that soaks the bedroom in gold and yellow light. crossing through the doorway softly, bill lifts his head and smiles softly.

you bite your lip at bill, who is sat dumbly on the edge of the bed, and it's quiet for a few moments but you know you're both thinking the same thing.

he stands to meet you only a few paces from his doorway, and he's so close to you that you have to tilt your head and stare up at him through dark lashes. his breath comes out like a whisper, and you feel desperate to know his lips again. but not like last night. you want all of him now - always. sober, drunk, sick, healthy, forever.

“bill..” you start, doe eyes searching his, as if trying to read him. he looks like he doesn’t know what to say because you both know the reason that your friends made you sleep together on this trip in this dim room and why he’s looking at you the way he is.

“please...” he whispers, a half smile on his face. his own voice cuts through the faint music playing through the silence. your lips lift in a smile at this. bill thinks you look the most beautiful he’s ever seen you.

he didn’t say anything but a plea, and yet you both know exactly what he’s saying. 

your heart soars, and you grab his neck and he crashes his lips to yours desperately, letting out a quiet moan of relief.

you’ve never had somebody like him. of the few relationships you’d managed to keep up for a decent amount of time, you've never known someone like you know him - he's your best friend, the most important person in your life, and your first real love.

that used to scare you, but as you reach your hand to grasp his neck and pull him closer, you realize that this feeling in your stomach may not be as dangerous and innapropriate as previously thought.

because bill denbrough kisses like he’s taking his dying breath, like he’s drowning and you're the last bit of air left in the entire world. he kisses you like a starved writer desperate for a muse. his adamant tongue parted your shaking lips and sent tremors along your skin, as you clutch his chest.

his hands start on your cheeks, his thumbs rubbing your cheekbones as he tilts your head gently to deepen the kiss.

slowly, just as slowly as you fell for him, he slides his hands down your sides and grips your lower back with one large hand, the other squeezing your hip as he pulls your hips to him.

when you pull away for a second, he’s got an earth shattering, face-blinding smile on his lips that almost makes you want to cry.

you've never felt this breathless in your life, especially just by one boy, and all you can do is allow him to press you against dresser and catch your lips with his. his lips slot against yours hotly, moving with a kind of boyish expertise that makes your fingers tingle from all the way up to where they're nestled into his hair.

his plump red lips, slick and glossy, pull away from you and you watch with your hands carded through his auburn hair as he ducks slightly lower and kisses your jawline and your legs feel like jelly because you cannot believe it's happening. a song still plays through bill’s speakers.

one of your hands runs down his clothed chest and you gasp, having to bite back a squeal of pleasant surprise when one of his hands squeezes your ass. at your yelp of pleasure, bill chuckles and then his teeth bite down on the hollow of your throat.

he lifts his head to meet your eyes but doesn’t apologize, instead opting to shoot you a cocky lift of a brow at your reaction.

but before you can even roll your eyes, his lips are back to working magic and you're breathless, the heat in your stomach coiling and making you desperate.

you quietly moan his name as his tongue follows in his teeth’s wake; your neck slowly becoming the most beautiful piece of art bill has ever created.

eventually he raises his head again, his green eyes stuck on your neck, admiring the thunderstorm he’s started, and its everything you can do to not collapse when you get the courage to push bill softly and walk him towards his bed, your lips pressing needily to his.

bill gently spins on his heels around you and pushes you instead onto the mattress, and you're suddenly laying below him with wide eyes.

and you're grabbing his flannel and tugging him on top of you.

for a while, as bill holds himself up above you with his forearms, all that either of you can hear is the melodic tune of heart eyes by coin flowing from bill’s speakers and the sweet noise of their hands exploring each other.

honestly, the first time was unintentional.

while trying to move up, bill slowly rocks his hips against you. you gasp at the feeling of his semi-hard on pressing against your core, and bill almost moans at the noise of you alone.

a small moan escapes your throat again when he does it once more and he pulls away, clearly trying to hide his smug expression.

his eyes trail to your button up, admiring the trail of blossoming hickies reaching from below your jaw to the hem of your sweater, near the top skin of your breasts.

“c-can i?” he asks softly, and your face flushes pink as you nod shyly.

his hands reach out and slowly he undoes the buttons of the sweater, lips pressing sweetly on each bit of skin exposed as he slips the sweater off your frame. his lips against your skin leaves goosebumps in their wake.

you swoon at this action, but as the garment falls from your shoulders, you cross your arms and looks away softly.

“you don’t have t-to huh-hide from me, sweetheart.”

a piano melody plays softly in the background as bill coos quietly, turning your jaw with his forefinger so you're forced make eye contact. “hey. you’re s-so perfect. a-and i’m so fucking l-lucky.” he whispers sincerely.

and even through the expiring sunlight, the golden streams illuminating your face reveal a smile- a genuine, toothy, blushy, bashful smile that makes bill beam in return.

“please. luh-let me show you how m-much you mean.” he whispers.

you're glad you have enough self control to not burst out crying at bill’s words. if you were unsure if he wanted you before, this was the confirmation you knew you didn’t even need. and you love it all the same.

“please,” you whine softly, blushing harder at the pure look of love and lust on bill’s handsome face.

as his lips and hands flutter around your torso, you take in his figure and the god-like aura created by the music and the atmosphere of the world around you.

one word keeps circulating through your head, and as his fingers softly pinch your left nipple, you mewl and pull him up for a passionate kiss, deciding to let the word sit pretty in your mind.

you trails your fingers along the hem of his shirt and he leans back to let you unbutton it slowly. your lips find themselves against his hot skin, trailing in small kisses and bites down his chest as they follow your nimble hands. you cherish his smooth skin and taught muscles.

he soon turns to catch your lips with his, this time feverishly and deeply. he feels hungry against your lips, his tongue winning dominance instantly and smoothing around your mouth as he sighs against you, his hips rocking against you as your hands roam from his hair to his back and chest.

he pulls away, hands trailing down to your jeans, lips following his hands yet again, slower this time.

you whimper quietly at the feeling of white hot pleasure coursing through you and bill shoots you a smirk. “e-everybody is o-outside, y/n/n. we can be as loud as w-we want.” he says in a low tone, and you bite your lip in bliss. you feel yourself get wetter at his words, his voice sounding like royal velvet.

he stops his lips right at the button of your pants. “do yo-you want this?” he asks, his eyes welcoming, and you knows that if, for some absurd reason, you didn’t want him right now (or ever, honestly) you could be honest and he would be forever respectful of that.

“yes, bill. please.” you plead, hands carding into his hair as you watche him smile from in between your legs.

you watch as he unbuttons your jeans, sliding them off and tossing them somewhere across the room. you have to bite back a giggle at the boy's eagerness and he bites his lip as he stares up at you, green eyes sparkling and true as his head sinks lower.

he kisses the inside of your knees slowly, trailing his lips closer and closer to the apex of your thighs where you need him the most before switching to the other side. you groan at his teasing and his quiet huff of a laugh leaves his lips and fans over your thigh.

he’s done this before, it’s obvious.

and it’s probably also very obvious to bill that you are not used to this kind of praise, this kind of approval, and this much intimate attention on your own body. he loves it - loves that he can finally show you how you deserve to feel after years of watching you, his best friend, and waiting for the day that he could put his lips on yours.

his lips finally press a soft kiss over your red lace-clothed clit, and you let out a strangled moan, hips jilting involuntarily at the tease.

his eyes meet yours and all he does is wink.

cocky bastard, you think as bill slides your lace undies off your legs.

it suddenly dawns on you that you're completely naked and vulnerable in front of this boy, and yet somehow you feel more comfortable and at home than you've ever felt in a situation like this.

and you're not totally sure when exactly that fucking word starts to circulate in your mind again- perhaps it is when he licks the first, bold stripe from your entrance up to your clit, or maybe it’s when he uses one hand to gently pin your hips down while his tongue does wicked tricks. or perhaps it’s when he first slips a single finger in.

or maybe that word has been there, hiding in your mind, on the tip of your tongue, the whole time.

but you suddenly can’t think of anything besides bill, because he’s building a rhythm with his tongue and fingers and you know that if anyone is awake in the house besides you, they’d know exactly what was happening in your room currently. and you can't find it to care as you look down at bill, eyes staring back at you with a cocky look on his face as his face is buried in your heat.

your wild moans pick up in pitch and you clench around his fingers tightly, the feeling of bliss having never felt this strong before. your toes curl and you let out whimpers, one hand tangling in his lush hair and the other twirling in the sheets.  

his fingers pick up pace, curling and pumping in and out of you as he sucks your clit.

“bill, fuck, i’m close-“ you start, groaning in pleasure as he smirks slightly. you whimper when he pulls back, a devious smirk playing on his shiny, slick lips, his fingers sliding out of your heat. you groan at the sight of him, shirtless and hair missed up from your fingers, his mouth sinfully shiny from your juices.

he reaches his hand up to you and obediently you take his fingers into your mouth, sucking and licking up yourself from him. he watches with his mouth slightly open and eyes dark. "g-good girl, y/n."

the sharp warmth in your chest and the heat straight down to your center show you how much you like his words, and you preen when he tucks your hair behind your ear. "you taste p-perfect, baby." he whispers into your ear, your jaw going slack in shock that words like that would dare fall from his lips, your thighs clenching together. you bite back a moan at the feeling, wanting nothing more than for bill to fill you up and make you scream his name.

it doesn’t get long before you pull him out of his boxers, and soon you're rolling a condom onto his hard cock.

you almost, almost blush when your mouth waters at the sight of bill’s cock, hard, leaking with precum, and much larger than you'd anticipated.

rich was fucking right, you think, they do call him big bill for a reason.

he’s looking at you like you're the only thing that matters as you pull him onto you. he's letting out breathy moans that you realize you could listen to on repeat forever.

but suddenly he’s pushing you hard against the mattress, kissing you like a sailor returning to see his first love, and he’s lining himself up at your entrance, slowly teasing your entrance with his tip. you whimper at the feeling, your over-sensitive clit throbbing as you tug at his shoulders. he grins into your mouth. "u-se your words, baby." he mutters, and you go red.

“god, bill, please fuck me. need it so bad." you whimper breathlessly. he smiles at you, kissing your nose.

"i kn-know you do." he mutters and you want to smack the back of his head but then he pushes in agonizingly slow and you're gasping.  simultaneously, you suck in breaths at the sensation, eyes staring deep into each other. his are lidded and yours are blown wide, taking him and whimpering at the feeling of him stretching you out.  

you can feel the blush on your cheeks when you realize this is one of the most intimate experiences you've ever had in your life. and when bill's finally buried to the hilt inside you, you let out a low moan at the feeling.

thank god he warmed you up so well, because he was big and felt perfect buried inside you like this, his lips ghosting over your face as you clench your legs around his hips. his fingers rise to roll on your nipple and you let out a gasp of pleasure followed by a small moan of his name. he lets out a shuttering breath into your collarbone as your nails dig into his shoulders.

“please, bill, move. please, fuck, i need it-“ you beg, eyes closed in need and lust.

you feel a strong hand grab your jaw suddenly, and your voice stops as you open your eyes to be met with deep green ones shining fiercely.

“look at me wh-while i fuck you.” he says, more a command, and you involuntarily moan at his words. 

 the power he has over you feeling foreign and incredibly enticing. never did you expect for bill denbrough to be anything more than vanilla in bed - but you're all here for it as you look back at him submissively, trying to hide your smile.

you keep your eyes on him as he pulls out just as slowly as he eased in, before pushing soundly back into you and coaxing a long, low moan from your lips. your head dips back, your spine curving and eyes fluttering before snapping back to his. he starts to thrust as you've adjusted to his size and you can feel him filling you up perfectly, the feeling euphoric. your toes curl in pleasure and you determine that his melodic moan itself could push you over the edge right now.

he builds a rhythm, your legs tightening around his waist as his lips catch yours in a searing kiss. "y-you're so fucking g-good for me, huh?" he asks, but the feeling of him fucking you into the mattress renders you almost speechless, your lips in an 'o' shape as you watch him. you nod, whining as your hands roam his chest and slide to his back.

"god, yes, bill. don't stop," you say breathlessly, whimpering as you pull him down to you by the neck. he kisses you soundly as he pounds into you, his hands roaming your body and making you blush.

you feel a familiar warm feeling in your abdomen after a couple deep thrusts and you moan out as he lifts your legs slightly to hit another angle. “f-fuck...” he mutters, eyes trailing over your whole body yet never shying from your face for more than a few moments.

and now the word lingers in your mouth, on the tip of your tongue, but you're in so much pleasure that you can’t form words that aren’t his own name as they leave your mouth like a prayer.

his thrusts are deep, rough, and yet somehow sensual as if he’s trying to convey thoughts or feelings through his actions, and the combination has you slamming your hand over your mouth to conceal your loud moans, eyes finding his as you remember his previous words.

his eyes make you feel more special than any other human on this earth ever has. you've had a fair share of sexual encounters, but never have you ever experienced something like this with someone like your bill denbrough.

and as one hand grasps your breast and the other holds himself above you, his lips pressing against yours like he’d die if he wasn’t touching you, bill can tell that you're close. “y-you close, baby?” he purrs in your ear, and through his thrusts you can only nod your head and mewl.

his hand suddenly grabs your hands and lift them up above your head, pinning them there and rendering you unable to move our touch him; the feeling of being restrained makes you moan wantonly, moving your hips with his. he hums deeply, a delicious sound, "oh, you l-like that, y/n/n? g-good, so g-good." and then he moans into your collarbone. his words and the feeling of him hitting the perfect spot inside you, fucking you deeper than you could imagine, has you nearing the edge.

his large thumb snakes it’s way into your mouth then, and you look up in his eyes as your lips wrap around his digit. he groans, hips stuttering inside you. "good g-girl." he mutters, eyes glued to your lips as they suck on his thumb.

he drags his thumb out of your mouth and you release with a small pop. he lowers his hand, moving it down to rub sensual figure-8’s on your clit, a stark and delicious contrast to his hip’s motions. you yelp in pleasure, your sensitive clit throbbing.

“c-cum for me.” he whispers, and you're wrecked. your climax, after a slow, burning build, hits you hard and you clench around him, moaning out his name as your eyes barely stay locked on his. your voice cracks in pleasure as your body pulses in pleasure.

bill cums not even three thrusts after, a mess of groans and your name falling from his lips. he pulls out and you quietly hiss at the sudden absence of him, watching with exhausted eyes as bill tosses his condom and turns back to you.

you're fucked out and so out of breath that all you can do is grasp bill’s hand. he smiles softly at your naked, glowing form as the last of the afternoon light seeps through the windows.

he pulls on boxers quickly, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before disappearing out of the room, leaving an empty feeling in the hollow of your stomach.

you're pretty was used to the people you sleep with not wanting to stick around much, and yet you can’t help the deflation in your chest as bill leaves the room. is he going to sleep on the couch? was it that bad for him?

you pull on underwear just as he comes back in, a cup of water in his hands.

when he softly offers it to you, you tear up slightly but cover it up with a yawn. you know you've never had someone care this much about you. that word lingers on the tip of your tongue, begging to drip from your mouth like honey.

“y-you tired?” bill asks shyly, his body dipping down as he sits next to you. you wonder why bill all of the sudden is acting so shy- as if he didn’t just provide the most incredible sex of your life.

“you wore me out.” you says with a little smile as you lean slightly against him and kiss his cheek.

his cheeks blossom at the simple affection. "i love you." he says suddenly, no stutter. his eyes widen in shock as he realizes what he'd just slipped.

you turn to look at him and he's bright red, looking more scared than you've ever seen him. you can't help your smile, though. "bill... i love you too." you admit, stomach fluttering in excitement. he smiles softly, exhaling, "h-holy shit, thank god. that would have m-made the rest of this t-trip so a-awful."

you giggle, hand falling to his jaw. "i love you so much." you mutter, pulling him down with you so your heads hip the pillow, his hands falling on your bare hips as you kiss sweetly. you can't stop smiling into the kiss, and neither can he, so it's full of quiet laughs and teeth knocking, noses brushing together.

"i love y-you so much, y/n." he whispers into your lips, his mouth wide with a dopey smile. you smooth the hair from his eyes and kiss him again. "be mine, p-please."

"i already am, denbrough." you whisper softly.

[raevenlywrites]

Dasi High, for really reals

Finally got a first chapter I actually like!

I walked an expanse of endless sand. The night desert air carried hints of spice and stone and worried at my exposed skin with cutting cold teeth. I shivered and rubbed my arms in annoyance. This part of the dream was getting old.

But I knew that just over that dune lay a fire, and around the fire, figures danced.

Their long shadows cast out like the tails of an inverse sun, snapping and cracking like dark twins to the flames they danced around. Music made of wind and whispers pulled at me, urged me to come down, come dance, become a shadow.

I’d never once made it down to the circle.

I didn’t dream this scene every night, but I’d dreamt it often enough to be annoyed with its tantalizing tease. If I didn't’ waste so much time on the stupid sands, I might finally get to see who danced in that circle. A figure always broke off, coming to meet me half way, and though I got a little closer every time--

“It’s the top of the hour, and you’re listening to WKSR!”

I smashed my hand against the alarm clock, wishing I could hurl it into the dreamscape’s flames.

Never make a song you love your alarm tone, unless you’re ready to hate that song forever. That goes double if its from show you used to really love, but now associate with rage and dreamus interruptus and can never watch again. I flopped forcefully back against my pillow, tempted as always to just go back to sleep. What was out here for me in this world of pop songs and overly enthusiastic radio announcers?

Plenty, was the answer, and after a while the ennui of waking left me, and I rolled out of bed to wash the sand of sleep from my eyes. - “Hey.”

I looked up to see Brass standing in front of my desk, something held to his chest. Since it was neither latte nor donut, it was hard to muster interest in it this early in the morning. When he set the crusty old book down on my desk like it was supposed to mean something, I just stared up at him.

“Since when do you read?” I teased. Picking on Brass was one of the constants in my world. Sky was blue, grass was green, Brass and I bickered and teased.

He gave me a half-hearted smirk, but I could tell he was distracted. I leaned back in my chair, cocking my head in what I hoped was a sympathetic manner. This was why we hadn’t worked as a couple. Teasing I got. Real emotions? They seemed weird between me and Brass. And it was way too early for it. Best to just let him get it off his chest and get it over with.

He drew a deep breath in through his nose, reminding me way to much of all the times he’d started “a talk”. It was hard not to get automatically defensive.

“So you know how my mom runs that homeopahtic shop or whatever?”

I nodded, biting my tongue to keep from interrupting him. We’d been friends since diapers. I knew his mom as well as I knew my own. Maybe better. “Aunt” Cynthia was way cooler than my stick in the mud mom. And her shop carried some of the coolest stuff. Suddenly this rusty crusty Giles-like book got a lot more interesting.

“What’s with the Necronomicon?”

“It’s not a--“

He cut off, his mouth twisting in that sideway grimace that made his nose scrunch. I hated that I still thought it was cute. I distracted myself from it by flipping open the tome. “Tome” had a lot better ring to it. Yeah, I was liking this tome more and more.

“Apparently it’s a grimoire. Mom likes to collect them for old recipes and stuff, but this one...”

His fidgeting was enough to ruin the mystical communion I was trying to have with my cool new book. I propped my face on a fist, giving him a sort of “spill it” gesture with my eyebrows. I did a lot of talking with my eyebrows. I had expressive eyebrows, worked hard to get ‘em that way. They were kind of my signature thing now. I hoped. Too cool to speak. Talk to the brows. Yeah.

Brass wilted under my killer gaze, reaching down to flip a page in the book. I felt weirdly protective of it, annoyed that he’d dared touch it--even though it was his book. Just because he’d put it on my desk didn’t mean he was giving it to me.

“I thought you should have it,” he said, seeming to echo my thoughts. I felt immediately embarrassed and empowered at the idea. Heck yeah, bow before my cool mind powers--but ick, stay out of my thoughts. Especially since I still kind of like you. Double ick.

“Brass, what about this crusty old book makes you think I should have it?”

When in doubt, pretend you don’t want it. Lessons learned from Sassy the Cat of Homeward Bound fame.

“Cause you’re crusty old news!”

Izzy wrapped her hands around Brass’s arm, giving me her “trying too hard to be cute” nose-wrinkled grin. Brass’s nose wrinkle was better. But hers was cute, I could admit. Much easier to admit since I knew her passes at Brass didn’t mean anything. Izzy didn’t want to date him any more than I had. She’d just been smart enough to say no when he’d asked. Which made him more fun to flirt with now, I guess. I dunno. The mind of an Izzy is a mystery.

“No,” Brass said tightly, trying on the new tactic of “ignore the PDA”. Good for him. The blushing had been cute, but it made him look easy to rile. More fun to tease. Stoic man, that was the way.

“I thought she should have it because--“

“The vibes!” Dani invited themself in our conversation and I tried not to sigh. I loved my friends, I really did. We were tight, tighter than family. But now they were going to chat all through homeroom and there would be no coffee, no book, no ten minute nap. My desk had become socializing central.

“It’s the vibes, right?” Dani insisted, helping themself to my book. I let out a protest as they picked it up, but too little too late. They turned the book over and over, as if looking for a review or pricetag or something. “This thing totally has spooky vibes, just like our Ki.”

“It’s because she’s a Scorpio.” Oh great. Landon had invited himself over too. Party and Kiesha’s desk. “Scorpio’s exude a mysterious energy. But they’re secretly big cry babies.”

I stuck my tongue out at Landon-the-know-it-all, but he ignored me.

“No,” Brass insisted, taking his book back once again. He spread it out over my desk again, opening it back to that same page. It looked like a family tree. He ran a finger over the lines, indicating a very familiar name.

“It’s because it’s literally got her name on it.”

Everyone leaned in, casting an actual shadow on the page they crowded so close. It made the age-faded ink even harder to parse, but the “Kiesha” Brass had indicated was plain enough.

My book.

The urge to close it up and clutch it to my chest nearly overwhelmed me. Instead I leaned away, ostensibly to let everyone else get a better look. In truth, I hated ever looking too interested in anything. I had always been so obnoxious with my interests as a child. I never let anyone see anymore when I was really into something. Always play it cool.

But the book called to me, and the more I held myself back from it, the more I wanted to pour through its pages, discover its secrets. It was my book. It had my name on it. Fate had sent it to me.

My friend’s chattered turned to white noise in my ear. Distantly, I caught snatches of “where did you get it?” and “that’s so cool!” but all I could really hear was the pounding of my own heart in my ears. It felt like drums, dusky and ancient, and more important than anything else that might happen that day. Damn you, Brass, for giving me something so cool at the start of the school day. This was going to taunt me all day, just like that stupid fire circle.

I swooned as the beat of my heart joined the whispers of smoke and song. A hand on my shoulder made me jump. I blinked up into Brass’s concerned face.

“Ki? You okay?”

I nodded, shaky and shaken. I needed some air.

“Skipped breakfast. Could one of you snag me something from the vending machines?”

Izzy nodded and hopped off, knowing Brass would be completely distracted by concern for my well-being now. He still hovered like a protective mother hen, even though we’d broken up months ago. Talk about your brooding hero. Dani pulled Landon away and I sent a silent thank you to them for wrangling their snotty boyfriend. Landon was a great study buddy, but he had the personality of Metamusil. Good for you, probably, when you were ancient. We were too young and cool for his old man routine.

Brass crouched down by my desk so I didn’t have to crane up at him.

“Are you really good?”

I nodded, letting myself rest my head on his shoulder. Brass was a constant, weird ex or not. He’d been childhood friend longer than he’d been my... whatever we’d been, and enough time had passed that I could let myself take comfort from him again.

“Sorry about the book thing. I can--“

“It’s great.”

I cut him off before he could finish whatever he’d been about to say. I wasn’t about to let my “be cool” rule part me from my book. I pulled back to better look at him.

“I do really like it, weirdness or not. Thanks for thinking of me.”

“Of course.”

He pressed a quick kiss to my forehead, then stood and beat a retreat to his side of the classroom. Izzy came back with a Coke and some donut sticks, and I slid the book into my bag before any sticky accidents could befall it.

[ravs6709]

These Feelings Inside (How Deep Do They Go)

Chapter 2- A Broken Heart

Read on ao3.

Masterlist. Previous. Next.

Woo, chapter 2 of the fic for the @kotlc2021collab! Fun fact, like all of this chapter was supposed to happen in the first one, but I got carried away with the prologue (which I do like)

Anyways, this is a mermaid (siren) au, so its about time we meet a siren. I've mentioned last time that this was inspired by Siren's Lament. I didn't use those lyrics as the siren song, and instead made my own (with very loose inspiration from SL's version)

And uh... I did record myself singing it, and made a post for it. If you want to listen to it, you can go here! (I'll put a link at the end too)

Warnings I guess? Uh, Sophie goes through a whole panic section at the end. And then the siren lures her and it's indirectly said that she falls off a cliff/whatever and into the water and starts drifting off. Idk how to label that but yeah

Anyways, enjoy!

•~•~•~•~•~•

"Sometimes, I'm still surprised you keep them," Biana said, gesturing to the various flowers that were in the corner of Sophie's room. "I mean, if you ever want him to look at you differently, you're going to have to make a move. You know that, right?"

Even without saying a name, Sophie knew that she was referring to Fitz. It took a long time until she'd admitted the crush to Biana, who had already known. She always liked keeping the flowers that Fitz gave her, and would keep them for as long as possible. They might not be what she wanted, but she still appreciated the fact that he even gifted the flowers to her in the first place.

"It's not like I've kept them all," Sophie pointed out.

She ignored the fact that the ones that she had thrown away were too old to be kept.

Unfortunately, Biana knew that. "If they didn't wilt so easily, you'd be keeping them all. But you ignored my question. You know that you'll have to make a move, right?"

"Biana, he gave me a yellow rose first. He's the one who made his feelings clear first. What am I supposed to say? Oh yeah, I've had a crush on you for like eight years now, and I never mentioned it before because you've been giving me signs that you clearly see me as a friend? Is that what you want me to tell him?"

Biana shrugged. "When you say it like that…"

"Even if saying that did work, it's not like I'd be able to actually say it. My brain just runs non-stop but then the moment I make eye contact everything just stops."

"Sophie, when has he not been understanding of you?"

That was true. A lot of people didn't take the effort to try and understand Sophie, but Fitz did. The way he was so respectful- despite the fact that it should have been basic decency- was one of the numerous reasons why Sophie loved him.

"I know he'll be understanding, but that's just going to make things even more awkward."

"I guess. Should we go down now?"

"Sure."

•~•~•~•~•~•

"Oh, Fitz, you're here! What are you doing?" Sophie asked.

While he did come over often, he was usually busy on Thursdays, which was why Sophie was surprised to see him.

"I'm free this time, so I figured that I'd drop by," he explained.

She liked that he was around for the visit. Working at the shop wasn't boring, but it was more entertaining when she had someone to pass the time with. 

He walked closer to her, and rested a hand on her shoulder. "Also," he whispered. "I'm making sure that plans for tonight go well."

She glanced at Biana for a moment, who was on her phone. Sophie whispered back. "Your house or mine? I think yours would probably be better."

"What's the movie for tonight? That movie Biana said that she wanted to watch?"

"That's the plan."

"I don't get why you two always get secretive about the birthday movie night," Biana said.

Both Sophie and Fitz spun towards her, and it turned out that she still wasn't looking up from her phone.

"We've been doing this for years ."

"It's the birthday spirit we're trying to achieve, and you know that!" Fitz defended.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever."

•~•~•~•~•~•

The couches at Everglen were really comfortable. It was even more comfortable to be sitting with her friends. The birthday person was often the one who sat in the center, and Sophie smiled as Biana wrapped an arm around her. Occasionally Dex would join them, but he wasn't available this time.

The movie was playing, but they were only somewhat paying attention to what was going on. Sophie paid more attention to the clock, which showed 11:58 p.m. Just two minutes away from midnight, or Biana's birthday. She counted down the seconds, until it was finally time.

"Happy birthday!" she cheered.

"Happy birthday!" Fitz repeated.

"Thanks, both of you."

•~•~•~•~•~•

"You'll be fine, right?" Sophie asked.

"Sophie, it's just one day," Edaline said, exasperated. "You don't have to feel bad about taking a day off."

"Tell us how the game goes!" Grady added.

Biana's university team had managed to make it to the finals for volleyball, so Sophie and Fitz planned to go support her. But it also meant that neither of them would be at the shop.

"You'll text me if you need help though, right?"

"Yes, we'll text you. You can leave, it looks like Fitz is waiting for you." Edaline pointed to the entrance, where Fitz was indeed standing.

"Bye mom, bye dad!" she said, before kissing them both on the cheek.

Fitz took her hand as they walked to the car. She concentrated so hard on trying to stop herself from blushing that she didn't realize when they stopped walking.

She'd been pining after Fitz for around eight years, and her feelings had gotten easier to work with. Most of the time, at least. But during the times like this, those feelings that she suppressed would fight to be released. He was casually affectionate, which was great (sometimes she found it hard to initiate the contact, no matter how much she wanted it), but it constantly did things to her heart.

Each time it happened, she had to remind herself that no , he wasn't flirting with her or acting out of romantic interest. That was just how he was.

She shook her head to clear her thoughts, let go of his hand, then went in the car. It was silent on the way there, but she needed that silence in order to prepare herself. She took out her headphones once they were almost there.

"Sophie?" Fitz called out.

She responded with a hum.

"You know how it is. If it gets too loud, squeeze my arm."

She hummed again.

Then they arrived, and made their way to the seats. Biana was brilliant on the court, and she seemed to be doing even better than usual. By the end of the game, the cheering got loud, but not bad enough that it hurt. Biana's team had won by a decent amount.

"Congrats, Biana!" Fitz cheered once it was over and they met up.

"It feels unbelievable, because that was the finals? I can't believe we just won!"

"I knew you could do it," Sophie stated.

"I mean yeah, but the other uni was also really good! Guess it wasn't their day, huh?"

"It was definitely your day though," Fitz replied.

•~•~•~•~•~•

"I hate the fact that horns exist," Fitz groaned.

"What, so you like being hit by blue shells?" Sophie asked.

"Obviously not! But I like hitting you with them!"

"If you're able to get blue shells, it's clear that you aren't good at the game!"

It was game night again, and they were playing the newest version of Mario Kart, a game that was nostalgic to them. They were sitting in Sophie's room this time. Biana wasn't there, as she was busy studying with Dex.

"Look, if you aren't second place all the CPUs are there and you aren't safe," he retorted.

"Then just don't be third place? It's not that hard?"

Somehow, he managed to actually do that, and was quickly approaching her kart. It was the end of the final lap, and he passed her. But she got a red shell, shot him right before the finish line, then won first place.

"Excuse me?" he shouted. "Why do you get the red shells?"

She turned towards him with a smirk, only to be startled by the proximity. All she could see were those teal eyes, and the snarky reply she had planned to make was now forgotten. His eyes were wide, and he seemed to barely be breathing. It felt like time had frozen.

Could she take the risk and close the gap between them?

Should I?

Before she could make up her mind, he turned away, and he even moved slightly further away.

He's keeping his distance…

The realization was a hard blow to her, because that wasn't something he had ever done before. Was he that bothered by it?

"I thought you were good at the game," Fitz teased.

But unless Sophie was imagining it, his tone wasn't as lighthearted as it usually was. She tried to channel the frustration and use it to focus on the game, but she was doing worse. Ninth place. She hadn't scored so low in a while.

"Looks like that was the last game," he pointed out. "I'll head home now."

"Bye, Fitz."

She winced at her voice, because she was doing a terrible job at pretending that she was okay. Once she was sure that he left, she buried her face in her hands and just sat there. What was going on? Was Fitz mad at her? That would be the only reason why he would distance himself like that.

But why? Did she do something wrong? If she knew, she'd try and set things right. But what was she supposed to do?

Even though her room was large, she felt restricted. Too small, too hot, too suffocating. She couldn't breathe.

Her actions after that were a blur. She'd grabbed a sweater and went outside. She walked aimlessly along a path. The area seemed vaguely familiar, but she couldn't tell where she was.

The wind was cool against her face, the only thing that kept her remotely aware of her surroundings. There may have even been rain too.

Breathe. You need to breathe .

The voice sounded strangely like Fitz's, and it reminded her of when she had a panic attack and Fitz was there to help her. But he wasn't here this time. Was he going to start avoiding her? What about Biana? Did she have a problem with her too? W-

There was a hum, loud and melodic. She looked around for the source.

 

'Oh you, with that broken heart.'

 

"Who's there?"

 

'You, whose life's falling apart.'

 

Almost as if against her will, her mind replayed the moment of Fitz turning away from her. The rain fell harder, making it harder to see anything except her own imagination.

 

'Have you come here to the sea,

To drown in your memories?'

 

If Fitz and Biana were going to distance themselves, what was she going to do? Ten years worth of memories, were they just going to be tossed aside?

 

'The weight of them is too strong,

Crushing you, it's all so wrong.'

 

Different memories kept emerging. Her first meeting with Biana. Her first meeting with Fitz. Exchanging flowers with Fitz. Weren't the worst memories the ones that started off good? They were the ones that had you soaring, until you're being dragged towards the ground.

 

'May the waves wash all the tears,

That you've gathered through the years.'

 

Sophie knew that she could show her emotions around her friends, but she hated doing it. She had a tendency to suppress her sadness and tears and right now felt like a good time to just let it out.

Very distantly, she could feel herself walking towards the source of the singing.

 

'But what if there was a way,

To make the pain go away?'

 

Was that a thing? She hated doubting her friends, it hurt so much. But if she could just not worry, wouldn't that be better? Wouldn't that ease so much of her pain?

 

'To leave behind your sorrows,

Enter a new tomorrow.'

 

If tomorrow could come and ease away all of her pain, shouldn't she take that chance? Her foot caught against the ground, and now she was tumbling forward, and fell into the water.

 

'I have an offer for you,

You can start your life anew.'

 

The fall was by no means something that snapped her out of her daze, but Sophie found herself slightly more aware. Starting your life anew? Did she want that? Did she want to leave behind the people she loved?

Wasn't that what she worried Fitz was doing? Throwing their love away?

Sophie thought of the memories that they'd shared. It hurt, but they were the best memories that Sophie had. Would it ever be worth it to throw away all those good times just to abandon a potentially bad one?

I want my life , she told herself. I'm happiest with them. But… it's hard.

 

'You can escape the abyss.'

 

The voice was so much louder now, and she tried to move away, but her body wouldn't move.

 

'All I ask is for one kiss.'

 

She couldn't see, and she could vaguely feel a pair of lips press against her own. She was just drifting, in both her thoughts and the sea. She kept drifting until she could no longer feel anything.

•~•~•~•~•~•

You can find the song here!

Kotlc taglist- @keefeinnit @impostertamsong @my-swan-song @subrosasteath

Want to be added/removed from the taglist? Just let me know!

[zhonglishrine]

God is Good and never Evil

Pairing: Reader x Fyodor Dostoevsky  Word Counts: 5k  Note: There’s a lot of heavy context in this with religion and too much unnecessarily  philosophy talk of Good and Evil. Originally from my fanfic that I have unpublished and now were revised as stand alone one-shot instead. Credits to my friends Negin, Mel and @soukokuwu​ for helping me proofread this one and everyone else who helped me with the definition of Good and Evil!

He always thought that he was complicated and no one could understand him. It might be difficult, yes, but not impossible, if you could catch up to the level of his intelligence. But that might also prove to be challenging, as no one actually knows what goes in that genius head but Fyodor himself. He appeared hard to predict and read, and trying to figure him out will only wear you out in futile attempts as he is always three steps ahead of everything, and that’s how he believed himself to be: superior and above everyone else.

Where was he?

Just as you were running out of places to look, you figured out where he might be. If he wasn’t in his private library reading his massive collection of books, then he would be inside his music room, spending time alone with his mind while playing his dear cello. He always spends his time thinking about various things; about the world he wants to cleanse and simple things that he came across in his martyr. You know your dear Fedya, he is an excessively meticulous man- perfection is what he always strives for and no mistakes are permitted. Sometimes when in doubt he would go back just to make sure everything went according to plan. Despite his overbearing confidence, he bites his thumb until it bleeds, and the gnawing exhaustion shown on his face when he is deprived of sleep after staying awake for several days straight, lets you know how fragile he still is. 

After all, no matter how grandiose his claims are to you and how ridiculous they might sound, he is still a mortal being. No God would bleed and no God would need rest like he does, because isn’t God supposed to be all perfect? He still has his limits, though you always want to remind him not to push his frail body too much. How little he would bite off his loaf of bread, simply adequate to satiate his hunger and no more, his body emaciated day by day with the little care he put. However, Fyodor doesn't like it when he is reminded of those petty things, and so most of the time he prefers to be left alone. No words are spoken on the topic, but you know; he doesn’t need to explain every single basic detail for you to know. He knows what he is doing and needs no mothering from you or anyone else. He can actually be a bit childish and immature sometimes, and that's a trait he didn’t even realize he had; flaws that he didn’t want to admit but you noticed.

He is still a young man, too young to shoulder all the rest of the world’s sin, but he took the matter into his own hands and let it be soaked and tainted in blood of his sacrifices and fallen victims within his act of mercy. 

Entering his room, a tray in your hands with a glass and ferrous sulfate tablets for him to take, you carefully tread your steps forward, not making any audible noise to disturb his moment of quietude. 

The tranquil and calm tune overflows like an external heartbeat with each rhythm, and the volume crescendo in sweet vibrations octave to your hearing ears. His nimble and deft movements on the instrument play ever so gracefully, creating the heavenly sounds that soothe your quivering heart. 

There are no words present, but every dance of his slender fingers on each string manifest their own poetry, and it guides you to an ode to his own universe. He changes his pace and tone, sometimes quick and sometimes it becoming slow, his eyes shut closed as his delicate hand moves the bow, scraping the hair against the string as he angles it differently. His raven tresses draped around his pale complexion follow his movements as he tilts his head with the tempo, his legs spread and toes curling the more he gets into it. He was in his own world and he is sending you an auditory message through your mind, telling you the unspoken journey he has gone through in his pilgrimage, inviting you to join him sail over the oceans of tunes that filled the grandeur ambiance in rapt silence, like he was the captain of his ship and you were his crew.

When it is faint and low – he is feeling sorrow and sadness.

When it is heavy and strong – he is feeling regret and remorse. 

When it is high-pitched and piercing – he is feeling angry and furious.

When it is gentle and soft – he is feeling bliss and a sense of gratefulness.

There are so many emotions he conveys through the cello that rests against his frame on his left shoulder, as if he was lamenting alone from the exuberant song that he orchestrates. Akin to how waves would crash through the shore and saturate every breach lying within the grains of sand, it rushes to fill your hollow soul. This tide continues to flourish, seeping into your veins and healing you like a divine medicine with the superfluous melody as you continue to watch and listen in great trance, almost as though you were spellbound by it. There's just something about how Fyodor can make it sing and scream so beautifully it’s so painful to hear.

Just what is this...?

Why...why have you started to cry...?

Your hand clutches at your chest, clenching down. Why does it hammer so painfully inside your ribcage? It was as if the music was the exact voice that you have long since lost. Your throat burns in quietness and your vision becomes blurry with a dot of crystal pearl, until it drops and becomes a small rivulet staining your cheek. In the equilibrium of each note he plays, it tells a different story. A story that you felt as if you were a part of it. From the beginning of birth, soft and calm, it portrays the innocence of a newborn baby that you are. Then, it starts to pace up slightly, the progress of your life. As you grow, you face struggle and hardship in life, and it starts to go faster. A lot of details then take place, you experience a variety of emotions like a crashing wave, you make a decision and you sin through your voyage. And at the end, it becomes slow again, life becomes slower and the flame that ignites you starts to dim until it eventually extinguishes as you take your last breath.

Just like the music that grows ever so faint, it eventually fades by the end of the bow that caresses against the string before it departs.

Fyodor opens his eyelids, revealing a pool of his violet orbs with a crescent shaped illumination within, soon after a stillness encompassing the air with serenity. He flutters his lashes, his gaze landing on you as you still stand with a tray in your hand before him. Your glossy eyes sparkle like rubies before the dull brightness of the candlelight, and you simply keep on staring at him with never-ending tears. At this, Fyodor curves the corner of his lips to form a thin smile, then speaking to break the silence, "Tell me... what do you think of Good and Evil?"

Fumbling with your thoughts, you thrive to answer the sudden inquiry with your muddled mind. Fyodor plays another classical piece of music to fill the gap in the meanwhile. Perhaps it was from Tchaikovsky, Prokofiev, Rachmaninoff or from someone else entirely. You weren’t sure which one, since he knew many different famous composers, but that is not important to guess right now. 

"Good is..." You begin, ransacking your brain to formulate your thought and remember what the definition of the concept is. There are many standards for good and evil around the world as noted by philosophers throughout history, and it differs with each religion that exists, but for the basic definition of it, then they are almost about the same. It is akin to two notes in the same symphony. Each thing in nature changes according to the opposites; like hard ice melts into water which is then soft, the combination resulting in a harmonious whole. Just like how it is in music, harmony results from the combination of low and high notes, while in our universe harmony flows from the combination of the opposites that are good and evil. 

"Having the moral and compassion to do the right thing. And evil is the opposite, it is wicked and in all immoral sense.” 

Fyodor raises his brow slightly, hearing rather a short reply from you. "But if I do evil deeds for the greater goods of mankind, what does that make me? Do you think evil is not necessary after all?" He counters your statement, and you know exactly what he means by it, as he planned to wipe away all ability users from this world. Regardless of races, genders, and ages. There could be an innocent child that never did any bad deed, there could be an old man waiting for his last breath, there could be a woman who never knows they have the ability. Regardless of the sacrifices he shall make; he will still make his goal come true without any sparing mercy and treat them all equally. Like plucking the weeds before they grow wild in his garden or trim the one that has wilt.  

“I am not sure about that. But isn't evil supposed to only bring harm?”

Fyodor subtly chuckled, and you were unsure whether he agreed or not.

“Then I will have to ask you something. Do you like scorpions and snakes?”

Again, when he is in the mood to indulge himself with these sorts of discussions and questions, he always asks the strangest thing and you always have to dissect the meaning behind it, whether he was thinking about it or it is just something random that crossed his mind. 

“Well, I don’t really dislike them. But they are poisonous and dangerous if not handled carefully.”

“True, that is the most logical thing to think. However, that wasn’t it at all.” 

“May I know what you mean by that?” 

Pressing the topic further, he scrapes his bow in a deep thought, a few seconds elapsed in his silence.

“Scorpions and serpents are poisonous indeed. But are they really good or evil, for they are existing beings? Yes, a scorpion is evil in relation to man; as is a serpent; but in relation to themselves they are not evil, for their poison is their weapon, and by their sting they defend themselves."

Fyodor remembers that he has read the quote somewhere when he did his research before. He had a deep fascination to learn through different religions there in this world. What makes it interesting for him is how every single religion has its own God and belief but none of them can prove their God exists. At the very least for him, that’s the conclusion he came to. That is why at one point, he thought that if there is no God then he would become one himself. His God complex didn’t just develop in one night, it took him many, many days and nights searching for his answer and he found none after seeing the world at its demise and the despair it has.

Interesting thing about what he just said is that, Good and Evil is the embodiment of how his ability is. Still, it was a mystery to you, but you have seen how it works when Fyodor touches someone and they drop dead and fall to his feet, just by the tip of his fingers. Crime and Punishment that is neither good or evil. In the eyes of someone he might have seen as someone dangerous with that ability, a demon clocked in angel disguise, but neither can they judge which one is his true nature.

And if all people aren’t good or evil and they're just people that sometimes do cruel things because they have to, you wonder what that makes him if that was the case.

The evil one?

A demon?

Or... a Savior?

"So your intentions...define itself with what good and evil is as long as you know."

He hums, "Care to elaborate it?"

"I... l think it depends on our belief, the interpretation of our choice. Good and Evil is a paradoxical concept that is inherent in human nature, but man has to be rational with them. People are inherently “evil” while society's perspective of good comes from sustained effort. It is a very humane construct because it has to do with morals, and pretty much because no other animal has this compass. There are several concepts of good and evil, first is the collective good or evil, in which society dictates what is what. This however, differs for each individual, depending on their own moral compasses so they may agree or disagree with society. It helps maintain societal structure, but at the same time, good and evil can be viewed as pretty nonexistent simply because it is a social construct.” 

He listens to your explanation as his hand never stops from playing the instrument. Again, you continue.

“But such trivial concepts are just definitions pun on abstract concepts. There is no line between good and evil. It's only the perspective that defines how something is seen, close to how war is portrayed by the winner in a way and by the loser in another way. That's why in some cases, murder can be good. Because in the eyes of a murderer, it's always good. Even the people that do charity sometimes do it to feel good themselves and beliefs say that itself is a sin therefore a bad thing. Since everything came and was given birth by God itself. He is the one that creates everything, all things that are good. But good things alone can be evil if one indulges too much in it and evil things can be good as long as we stay away from it... but purely based on intention is not all right either, for mere intention cannot make a bad act good. But a bad act performed in good faith can be excused but it cannot be classified as a good act either."

Based on your answer, he took his time to assess and ask you the next inquiry that piqued his interest.

"So, you do believe in God's existence too?"

"I..." You ponder for a moment before answering, your tongue somehow feels somewhat dry with the said inquiry. "I am not sure... there can be one, and there can be none. It depends on the reality we see, and the faith we held or the religion we have. I'm sorry if my answer is vague..."

"Hmm. It's fine, I don't blame you. I understand." He assures you and arches his head upward, exposing the bulb of his Adam's apple that was visible on his exposed neck. In this moment, he relished the time when someone was engaging in his long spiel.

"The good want power, but to weep barren tears. The powerful goodness want: worse need for them. The wise want love; and those who love want wisdom."

Fyodor says in soft oration, quoting a line from Percy Bysshe Shelley. "In the Garden of Eden, God creates an apple and forbids Adam and Eve to eat it. He is who all-knowing, know that one of them would eat it, but yet he still created man in immature form, created man that will end up resorting to eating it, created the talking snakes knowing it would coerce man into eating it, even already predicting it and going as far as to plan on what state would come after they did. Now which decision was good and evil? Was it a good thing to eat the apple if a man knows that was good for them? Or was it evil to go against the God that created them because they were tempted by the very snake He created?" 

Although it seems as if he is asking you, the question was more so directed to himself, so you do not speak to answer him. He continues again with a solemn voice, Fyodor shifting his head again and now staring at the floor, "Sadly, since the beginning, humans are already reigned by sinful nature. They know the consequences of their actions, yet they still can not resist and repel the radiance from the fruit itself; to taste the knowledge of Good and Evil. They then bring chaos to this world, staining the land with corruption from their deadly vices and tyranny. You have seen how foolish humans can be, haven't you? The futile war that you fought, the countless meaningless bloodshed that you witnessed, all because the stupidity that was bred from humanity itself as they keep repeating the same history."

Casting your gaze down into your reflection on the surface of water, there are faint memories flashing by from when you were a soldier. Though not very vivid, the vague image is still there, flickering at the back of your mind in a blaze; the image of mangled bodies, blown apart children, blood running into gutters, rain of missiles dropping like flies on the ground and explosions everywhere blowing up like fireworks. You were there in the front lines, fighting for your own people, for their peace and nation, ready to sacrifice your life. But that was all a fleeting memory of your past; you do not need it anymore. Albeit, there is this simmering feeling that stirs within the deepest recess of your heart, a raging feeling of being betrayed and being cast aside and locked down for years. All because of fear. A fear that came from the fruit of knowledge itself that you were a dangerous ability user. With the said knowledge also comes power, with power comes corruption, and with corruption comes evil; where power becomes absolute, so does evil. War is like a disease festered inside man's heart, and it spreads like a plague and wildfire. Yet sometimes, it’s a necessary one, when the conflict could not be resolved in a peaceful way and war was unavoidable. Then, was it a good thing if it involves mass sacrifice? In a world where the hierarchy of power and different classes of society exist, could man settle the conflict without getting into argument, without evil influence their judgment and without discrimination between their different views and opinions?

Even up until today, there's no ending for human suffering and pain. Left and right you can hear the screaming silent voice cry out for Justice, with a voice pregnant with tears, broken hearts and despair, and the blood of innocents that was spilled when the world's leader moved their piece on the world map like playing a game of simple chess against their opponent. From the first World's War, the Holocaust, systemic genocide, gulags, famine, earthquakes, disease and so forth. All were rooted from the cause of Evil. And Evil first entered the world because Adam and Eve ate the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil, which God had forbidden them.

"But... if God did not create the apple in the first place... then would Good and Evil cease to exist?" 

Fyodor scrapes one long tune, he closed one eye from your question with another thin smile.

"A predictable nuance that one would think of if we were to avoid all the root of origin. If we put the blame to God itself by essentially placing all blame on Him, then it will prevent the problem of humanity blaming each other. But the problem of evil is the problem of accounting for evil in a world created by an all-powerful, all-knowing, all-good God. It seems that if the creator has these attributes, there would be no evil in the world. But there is evil in the world. Thus, there is reason to believe that an all-powerful, all-knowing, all-good creator does not exist." He says with a scoffing voice, "It is therefore natural to think of God's commandment forbidding Man to eat of the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge as ironic since God Himself had planted this very same tree in the garden. If God hadn't placed the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil in the Garden of Eden in the first place, Adam and Eve wouldn't have sinned and the world's problems would be moot." He changes his bow pace to create a different tune, "If God exists then, he is testing the virtue and the faith of man by placing the tree in the garden. Then, a man by their own free will may choose their decision to choose between Good and Evil. Back to my question earlier, man could choose to obey the commandment and choose to do Good, or man could choose to disobey the commandment and choose to do Evil. However, if both choices ceased from existence, then humans will truly be free from their sins. But that would mean that people would have no choice to do evil, since evil is completely being erased. And without the choice of doing good, people will be happy not because they are happy, but because there is no longer the choice to be sad. They will only experience positive emotions, because the concept of suffering and pain has been removed and taken away from them. But would that really be a bad thing if one wishes to continue feeling happy without all the negative emotions? And would that be a bad thing if one will not make any evil deeds anymore? The line between good and wrong is distinctly thin after all as you said, as human is stupid to differentiate between what is Good and Evil for them." Fyodor gives the answer then counter it back with his question.

"However, wouldn't that be a blissful world if there was no Good and Evil? Ivan is the perfect example for that concept of being robbed from his negative emotion to be in a state of eternal bliss without any suffering had the apple never been created in the first place, and he would do all Evil simply because he does not see it as Evil since Evil does no longer exist in him." And he, as though acting as God, praised his own creation in delight and fervor that it reflects in his eyes. "You said it yourself that the Good and Evil interpretation is based on what we believe. That isn't exactly wrong now, is it?"

You remain silent to think about it for a moment. Then, with or without it, the world is still fated to be doomed. Evil is still created through man's misuse of his own power to act. He gets into evil of his own. Man misuses his discretion to act under pressure of his desires and satisfaction of his sentiments. That is why man is a sinful creature. With their own carnal desire, they will end up destroying each other even knowing the outcome and aware that they were being controlled by their own avarice. Simply, a foolish human being as he always stated. 

Fyodor finishes playing the cello and the music fades from your ears. You instantly feel like you miss hearing it once he has done. 

"Ah, pardon me for making you listen to my long ramble, you can put that on the table, I will get to it later." He gestured to the tray you held since the start that has few tablets and glass of translucent water. However, you knew better than anyone else that he might get engrossed into his work later on and forgot to take it so you have to be stricter. 

"It's fine... but Ivan would be mad at me if he knows you haven't taken your pills..." You reply back with an even tone, but your hand was quivering from the intense feeling whirling like a torrent inside your heart from listening to his soliloquy, unsure how to feel. You love listening to his voice, and you were trying to digest every word he says. Each time you listen to his long speeches, it's like he is telling you a bedtime story, but with heavy context related to his ideologies. It always left you to think with your own reasoning. Fyodor took notice of that, and he rested the cello on its stand. He gestures to you to come closer to him and your feet move on their own as if he has a magnetic force to command you so. 

"Make me," He said with a small smirk adorned his visage.

You creased your eyebrow in confusion at first, "Sorry...?"

"Make me so I can take those pills." He repeated again, now with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"How do I make you?" Your question was anything but innocent. However, for him, that just gives him a chance to tease. A moment he would rarely display.

"Here, I'll make it easy for you." He took the pill from your hand. "Now..." And he guides it to put it on his tongue as he parts his mouth. "Make me swallow it."

Faint blush erupted across your cheeks, and your usual straight expression slightly flustered. Seeing you that way, he merely chuckled. "Hmm? What are you waiting for? Didn't you say Ivan would be mad if I didn't take my pills yet?"

"Ah, yes... that is true." Gulping and with your shaky hand, you place the tray at the nearest desk, taking the glass to sip an amount of water hesitantly. Your eyes dart everywhere as you don’t know how to proceed and avoid eye contact with him as you close your eyes, leaning closer to his face inch by each with your heart beating loudly. You can smell his lavender scent; you didn't know whether it was from his shampoo or his perfume, but nevertheless it invites and guides  you. You then open your eyes again, seeing he was looking at you with such an amused expression when you felt his warm lips collide as he drank the water from your mouth, your whole face beginning to heat up again and how you wish you could disintegrate by embarrassment right now. Fyodor tucks the strands of your hair behind, and the lump from his throat swallowed both the pill and the water you transferred to him directly. His tongue sweeps across your moisten lips and he tugges it teasingly in between, nibbling it softly. You relish it as much as you can, desperately craving the affection he gives you for some more. 

He broke the kiss, gazing at your flushed face as he lifts your chin to prevent you from looking elsewhere with a small chuckle, "Now, that isn't so hard, isn't it?" 

How you hate it that he could pull this confidently without getting flustered as you are. All the more reason when he is enjoying it. But you can never resist him, can you? Not after he has taken so much space inside your heart.

"F... Fyodor..." Your lips tremble calling after his name, there was desperation laced in your voice, a need in your eyes. He looks into you with an adoring unadulterated gaze. 

"Hmm?"

"May I...?"

"What? Oh? You mean that..." Understanding what you want from him, Fyodor spread his arms widely. "Alright, you may as you wish." 

Enveloped by his frame dearly with his consent, your hands hug his warm body and you rest your head against his solid chest, hearing the rhythmic beat of his heart. Although he plays such beautiful music with his cello, there's no music that ever sounds better than this. You feel his warmth spread on you, and when he returns and gives you a hug back, placing his hand at the back of your spine and he begins to stroke it, your heart swells with happiness. His touch is like a remedy to your starved soul, and it wasn't frequent that you get the chance to be with him this way since he was rarely present at the base. 

Fyodor is indeed a strange man, and his mind is always complicated to understand. You never know or could tell what he was thinking. He is no God like Prometheus, not son of Lapetus and Themis. Not the champion of mankind known for his wily intelligence, who stole fire from Zeus and the gods and gave it to mortals. He is just he, a human named Fyodor Dostoevsky. A man who is acting in the place of God to carry the Good and Evil in this world. To bring salvation and destruction that humanity needs. He took the burden and huge responsibility on his own. That is something that you do admire him greatly. Albeit feeling a bit sad that you could do nothing but can only watch his back.

When he talks, you love to listen and take every detail in. You take a breath in and take in his scent again, calming you, feeling safe to be with him despite the reputation he has. Fyodor is not a man that is a fan of great affection; skin contact with another human being is a foreign concept to him. His ability could be activated at any moment if he so desires it, and then you would die in his arm in serenity. He would cleanse you off from your sin without any pain that torments you further. But he let you savor and indulge the solace he could provide you for now, as he did not dislike the company you have provided him as well. Strange as it may sound to him, he now secretly craves for the attention you give to him, as if he is the only center in your life and you are the only one for him, his dorogaya. How you wish you could stay like this with him forever.

However, you know, forever is a grand wish to have, as there is never a good thing that will last forever as it is with evil in this world.  Until the end, he will stand alone, just like God he aspired to be.

[vincent-frankenstein]

ADHD sides hcs :3c

self projection time? self projection time

feel free to add ur own hcs onto this im jus usin my own experiences here 

startin w PATTON

emotional regulation? who’s she? patton only knows feeling emotions with Every Single Atom in his body so powerfully he might one day Explode

if he’s happy hes HAPPY!!!!! it’s like his body fills with light and he’s walking 2 feet off the ground and nothing could go wrong — and then whoops, something goes wrong, and wh o o ps, hes crying, whoops —

has a million stuffed animals sitting aLL around the house so he always has something to Squeeze

Squeezing is a good stim dont @ me

he throws his whole body into stimming

flapping, bouncing, jumping, spinning — his body must be moving at all times or he will die 

starting things is. Very very hard for him. executive dysfunction hits DEEP and he’s just,,, paralyzed. he wants to do the thing!!! he really does!!! his brain just Wont Let Him

logan used to get very frustrated with him but then patton like, explained how it felt and a little lightbulb went off in logan’s head

“patton, I think you have adhd.”

“... i’m guessin that doesn’t mean im a-delightful-hip-dad?”

then they did some Research together and put together a plan to help patton work around executive dysfunction and, it works, sometimes

when it doesnt, logan makes hot cocoa and sits with him

AUDITORY. PROCESSING. PROBLEMS.

“Hey, Pat, what’s for dinner?” “huh?” “I said, what’s for —” “meATloaf”

hearing is an uphill struggle so sometimes he just Signs instead but a lot of the time he gets so excited about what he’s trying to say he just dissolves into flapping halfway through the sentence

lots of hyperfixations !!!! so many !!! he cycles through em one after another suuuuper quickly 

he never forgets a hyperfixation, and the mention of ANY old hyperfixations will have him cry-flapping

roman: hey did u know they’re making another phineas and ferb movie -

patton, vibrating intensely and sobbing, .5 seconds away from launching into orbit: theYR E MAKING A WHAT

ROMAN

singing is his absolute FAVORITE STIM

that moment where u reach a point in a song where ur chest just, Swells and u can feel ur voice Vibrating ? yeah

sometimes Does Not warm up beforehand bc ??? he has No Choice but to sing along to certain songs and he cant always control when they come on so his voice sometimes gets Very Raspy from belting without warmups

aside from that twirling and doing Ballet Poses are also very good stims. he stick his leggy out Real Far mmhm

roman: *starts a new project and doesnt finish it* *starts a new project and doesnt finish it* *starts a new project and doesnt finish it* *starts a new project and doesnt finish it *starts a new project and doesnt finish it* *starts a new project and doesnt finish it* *starts a new project and doesnt fin

his room is a MESS and NO he will NOT clean it LOGAN he has a SYSTEM 

he doesnt have a system and the mess stresses him out to no end but he has one (1) braincell and it’s dedicated to Starting Projects And Not Finishing Them so

needs validation to survive

like legit if he doesnt get validation he will DIE 

on the flip side, if he gets any sort of rejection, he will also Die

logan: so I read through your latest script, and the idea is solid. We can definitely work with this. I did notice one oddly structured sentence so I fixed that for you —

roman: so you basically hate it and i should die 

rejection sensitive dysphoria is the one villain he has yet to figure out how to slay

contrary to what u might think, he keeps his hyperfixations Very close to his heart. he doesnt think he would survive it if one of the others were to criticize them

the one exception to this rule: disney. 

you cant look at this boy and tell me hes not hyperfixated on disney i mean did you s E E him in that one ep cmon

he will ramble about disney to anyone who will listen for hours. days, even, if you give him the opportunity. infodumping about disney is like injecting pure sunlight right into his bloodstream; by the end of it he’s glowing

once, after accepting anxiety, virgil and roman ended up in another debate about the Meanings of disney movies, but this time it was friendly, and by the end of it roman had gotten to ramble about each and every one of his favorite movies and he had never been happier

it was the first time virgil ever saw him Flap

they still get together to talk disney sometimes

VIRGIIIIL

virgil: *stims while listening to mcr* *stims while listening to mcr* *stims while listening to mcr* *stims while listening to mcr* *stims while listening to mcr* *stims while listening to mcr* *stims while liste

like roman, Music is virgil’s main stim, but he prefers to just. Move. bouncin his leg and drumming his hands in the air and shaking his head etc etc

it takes. literally foreVER for him to trust the others enough to stim around them. music is his main comfort but, for a Long Time, he wouldnt let himself listen to it when the others were around, just bc he knew he’d want to stim and he couLDNT bc what if he got juDGED

but then one day roman starts singing and patton jumps up and starts spinning and virgils like “???” and logans like “that’s how they stim” and virgils like “!!!!”

he Tappy Leg Real Fast

he also has a string of beads he carries everywhere to twist around his fingers bc bead,,, Good Texture

he struggles with rsd just as badly as roman, but he shows it in a Different Way

roman hurts, but hes an actor. he’s not about to invite more rejection by letting them know how much their words hurt! no no no, he keeps up the bravado until hes back in his room and then he breaks

but virgil. the rsd hits and its like, a physical blow to his chest and he crumples, wilting in on himself, and the world around him just sorta, ebbs away. for virgil, rsd is static

after AA the others start to learn his Signs for when hes feeling Bad™ so whenever he shrinks away they’ll stop the conversation and talk him through his insecurities until he feels better

SPOOKY HYPERFIXATIONS ALL THE WAY

went to Halloween Horror Nights one (1) time and now listens to the music on repeat and just. stims for hours

also hes in love with austin gumbam from academy of villains me? self projecting? never 

knows Every Obscure Fact from Every Horror Movie Ever and the urge to infodump is Consntantly at the forefront of his mind but he Never Does

unless someone gives him permission 

virgil: oh? chucky? thats a. cool movie.  did you know that — uh. nvm

logan: no no, go on

virgil, vibrating at a speed that could shatter glass: iF YOU INSIST-

LOGAN,,,,

this bitch is just as bad at Emotional Regulation as patton

hes just better at hiding it

that little stunt w the paper in lntao? he is Constantly .5 seconds away from going apeshitt. that was just A Glimpse into the chaos

he’s just,,,, very very bad at Identifying what he’s feeling. patton hid his feelings from the others, but he still knew what he was feeling, and he knows how to identify emotions

logan, on the other hand? 

logan: passion and anger are both Hot. they must be The Same Thing

patton: i. i mean. not really

logan: goddamnit

or

patton: logan? are you crying?

logan, touching his cheek and finding Tears: hm. tragic. and here i thought i was “happy”

he’d much rather just,,, Not feel but thats not an option bc he still feels things intensely, he just doesnt know What he’s feeling most of the time

quiet stims. he runs his hands along the fabric of his tie, feeling the grooves of the stitches, and readjusts his glasses constantly. if he’s feelin extra wild, he’ll even pull out his rubix cube and solve and re-solve it without even looking

LOTS of obscure hyperfixations

he has so many books on so many different subjects,,,, his room is more of a library than a bedroom and thats just the way he likes it

throwback to that one time he hyperfixated on reptiles and thomas’ little “slimy boy” outburst had him chasing deceit around the mindscape trying to feel his scales “FOR SCIENCE”

memory. problems.

he HATES hates hates hates the fact that things slip his mind so easily. hence, the notebook, and the daily planner, and the deluge of postits hanging around his bedroom

it frustrates him to no end especiaLLY when he forgets important information in front of thomas

patton watches out for the signs of Frustration and brings logan a cup of tea later than day and helps him sort through the Mess of notes on his desk to catalogue the Important Info

just let logan and patton be adhd buds @god bls i beggeth

but when he does remember The Information and thomas praises him? effervescent

logan, after thomas called him cool, kicking down pattons door: I FINALLY KNOW WHAT HAPPINESS TRULY FEELS LIKE

patton: hey! cool your jets there, kiddo!

logan:

patton: :3c

logan, turning around: neveRMIND

patton: nO WAI T-

the day thomas called him cool was the first time he ever Flapped

[athingthatwantsvirginia]

Oliver Twist and Little Orphan Annie

PART TWENTY OF THE DO YOU SEE HER FACE? SERIES

Pairing: Jess Mariano x Original Character (Ella Stevens)

Warnings: discussions of physical/emotional abuse, anxiety about future, serious angst, plentiful pop culture references

Word Count: 5.8K

Summary: As graduation approaches, Ella and Jess paint a room, and attend a party.

“How have you never painted a room before?” Ella asked, tiling her head at Jess as she guided his hand, armed with a roller, up and down.

A creamy white streaked the wall in stark contrast with the old color, giving off pungent fumes. Her one window was opened all the way, letting in the late May air. Rain poured on Stars Hollow, a thunderstorm which brought humidity and lightning. The sky had faded to a dark greenish-gray, a dull bruise. But Ella felt her spirits lifted high. Lorelai had paint leftover from redoing the Independence Inn following the fire, and she’d given it all to Ella. Sometimes, she didn’t know what she would do without the Gilmore matriarch. If she had to stay in her room during college, the least she could do was have a new mural. Three of the walls would be soft eggshell, while she had yet to decide the exact design of the one behind her bed. She had a lot of purple to use, and was thinking something floral. But the base coat was all they needed for the day.

Jess had volunteered rather than been recruited, but it quickly became clear to Ella that he had no idea what he was doing. His first few strokes were patchy at best, textured at worst. She was thankful Luke hadn’t gotten a new apartment back when they were thinking of moving. The plan then had been to have Jess paint it. Ella could only imagine the quarrels which would have ensued. As she guided Jess’s hand, she maneuvered around the mattress in the center of the room, piled high with almost all her belongings and surrounded by layers of plastic to protect the carpet.

“We can’t all be Michelangelo,” he quipped, frustrated with his clear incompetence. In theory, painting a room evenly wasn’t hard. But, a perpetual renter, he had zero experience. Theory was proving much different than practice.

Ella snorted a laugh. “Jess, it’s not the Sistine Chapel. You’re painting one wall with one color.”

“Easy for you to say. You paint all the time.”

She rolled her eyes. “You didn’t have to help. Just don’t apply too much pressure. We’ll have to do a few coats, but that’s the only way to make it look good.”

“I’ll do my best,” Jess grumbled as she stepped away from him, going to her own paint tray and prepping her roller for the wall next to his.

“I know you will, James Dean,” Ella said, more sincerely than he was expecting.

Smiling a tiny smile, Jess glanced over his shoulder at her. Her hair, held away from her face in a black bandana, fell down her back. The old Pixies t-shirt she wore rose up as she reached high on her tiptoes, exposing the dimples in her back, above the waistband of her worn jeans. His stomach buzzed with pleasant butterflies as he turned back to the wall.

“You write your speech yet?” Jess asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

Groaning playfully, Ella shook her head more to herself than to Jess. “No. Not quite ready to pretend to have some inspiring message about the last four years. Also, I’m pretty sure my speech is going to be the last one. I’ll have to follow whatever those student government kids have to say.”

“Well, graduation is still three weeks away. You’ve got some time, Miss Valedictorian,” he said.

“One of four valedictorians,” she reminded him, her tone dismissive. “With the lowest GPA of all four.”

“How many times, Eleanor? It’s still a huge deal.”

“Yeah, whatever,” she said, breathing a soft sigh.

Before Jess could speak again, a quiet knock sounded on the door. Ella’s father didn’t wait to be invited in before he opened the door. Both of them turned and Jess could almost see Ella’s body turn rigid. Jess bit his lip again and put his paint roller down in his tray as Jake Stevens began to speak.

“Hey, Ellie, how’s it going in here?” Jake asked.

“Fine,” Ella shrugged, gazing around the room. “Should be done by tomorrow or day after next.”

Jake nodded. “Good. Don’t want the house smelling like this forever.”

“Right,” she said. “I just figured...white will be a better color for a guest room when I move out, and with the pink gone only one wall will need painting by then.”

“But that won’t be for a while, right?” Jake said, eyebrows raised.

There was almost a warning tone in his voice, Jess thought. In the interactions he’d seen between Ella and her father, it was never blatant. Jake never said anything overtly cruel or malicious, but it was in the way he said things. Like he knew there was nothing his daughter could do to get out from under his thumb. Like he could forever bind her to the role her mother used to fill, the chores and the emotional labor, while still ignoring her as if she didn’t live in the room right next to his. It was such an odd dichotomy.

Jess could definitely understand having a parent who was often neglectful, but there was a strange, controlling element to Jake’s behavior which Jess had never experienced himself. Many of Liz’s boyfriends (and sometimes fiancés, and sometimes husbands) were addicts with less than friendly personalities. But they were never around long enough to establish true manipulation of him. Instead, Jess would fight with them (more often than not, to protect Liz) until they got fed up and left. Then, Liz would blame him for driving the guy away and the cycle would begin again. The last time he’d gotten into a scrap with one of her men, punches had been thrown. Jess had even landed a few himself, but his fighting back proved to be the final straw for Liz. Instead of watching the man walk away from her, she’d sent Jess to Luke. But, of course, she’d moved onto the next one by the time Jess returned to New York following the accident with Rory’s car.

Those men, their main weapon was fear. But Ella’s father wielded guilt instead. He used his words, how he said them, and small actions disguised as discipline, instead of his fists. He loomed over his daughter coldly. She didn’t often talk about it, but Jess knew Ella’s father had slapped her at least once as a child, for talking back to him at the dinner table. She’d made the comment off-handedly, as though it was nothing. As though all parents kept their kids in line using such methods. And she claimed her father hadn’t touched her in anger since, that things were getting better between them, that her father had a hard childhood of his own and he had learned to parent in an abusive environment. But touch wasn’t always the vehicle for household violence. A family could have some kind of love without it being a healthy kind of love. It wasn’t dramatic, he didn’t witness any blow-outs. And though Jake always had a beer in hand when he was home, Ella only shook her head when Jess brought it up, told him her father never got blackout drunk anymore. Not since Fiona came around. But the subtle, warning tone was always there. And Jess could see shades of it every time Jake and Ella spoke to each other.

“Yeah,” Ella said, offering a weak smile. “Not for a while. But I’ll be thanking myself in four years.”

“Smart,” Jake agreed, nodding. Then, he turned to Jess: “And how are you, young man? No college plans I hear?”

“No,” Jess said, shaking his head. “Personally, I think I’m better equipped for trades.”

Again, Jake nodded slowly, keeping his eyes on Jess. “I suppose only time will tell, won’t it?”

“Yes. Yes, it will,” Jess said shortly.

Jake smiled thinly. “Well, I can’t wait to see the room when it’s done. As you were, kids.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Ella said, picking her roller back up as her father shut the door behind him.

Swallowing dryly, she took a second to listen to the rain outside. She flexed her free hand once and then got back to work, humming a Fleetwood Mac song under her breath. Jess watched, hesitant to say a word. Slowly, he began to paint again, rollers squeaking quietly against the walls.

“I hate it when he calls me ‘young man,’” he said, trying to keep his tone light.

She scoffed. “Wow, I’m shocked.”

“Yes, I’m very unpredictable,” he quipped. “There you go, type-casting me again.”

“Hey, I can’t help it if you’re James Dean back from the dead,” she teased, smirking over at him. “Speaking of which, are you too cool for the party next weekend, or are you gonna come watch Lane play with me?”

Running his free hand over his mouth, Jess locked eyes with her, looking over his shoulder again. “Depends. Are we gonna go make fun of everything like we’re gonna do at prom?”

Ella nodded. “Everything except the music. You can come be a Grinch with me, just like at the diner on Christmas.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“And you don’t get to complain about my driving at prom. It’ll be a station wagon instead of a limo, since your rust bucket is gone,” Ella reminded him. Three weeks prior, Jess had walked out of the diner one morning and found his car gone. He had heard no leads about it since.

He sighed through his nose. “Whatever you say, soccer mom. I’ll get the tickets this week.”

“Okay, but I’m paying you back for mine.”

“If you insist,” he shrugged.

“I do.”

His eyes lingered on her a moment longer as she reached high on the wall. Sidestepping his painting tray, he brought a gentle hand to the small of her back and pressed a kiss to her cheek. Scrunching up her nose, she chuckled and told him not to distract her. And he went back to work laughing.

.   .   .

Though there were rips in her fishnets, Ella felt an added, confident skip to her step as she passed town square. The Spring Fling festival banner was still hung over the gazebo, though it had ended with a parade the night before. Bunches of flowers still lined the streets, beginning to wilt in the heat of May. In the back of her mind, she worried vaguely about her dark eye makeup melting off in the sunshine. Her Doc Martens squeaked on the tile floor of Luke’s as she waltzed in, breathing a small sigh at the gust of cool air conditioning. She smoothed down her black floral dress, blowing loose strands of hair, which had fallen from her half-up, half-down look, away from her freckled cheeks.

Only a few customers peppered the red tables, and no one occupied the counter. Luke scribbled on his pad as he stood behind the ancient register, preparing to close.

“Hey, Luke,” she called, smiling slightly at him.

He mumbled a greeting to her, not glancing up. Ella scoffed out a laugh at his disinterest, and didn’t bother asking if it was alright before going behind the curtain and trudging up the stairs. He’d been acting off lately, and though she wondered if it was something to do with his lawyer lady friend, she knew better than to ask. She’d spent the afternoon before visiting Julie in New Britain, and he seemed to have cooled off at least a little since she’d last seen him. Granted, it had been a Thursday, inventory day. One could always expect a fair amount of open hostility from Luke on inventory day. Ella could hear the sound of the Sex Pistols before she even neared the apartment door. Only knocking twice, and assuming she wouldn’t be heard over the music anyway, she stepped into the apartment. Jess sat up in his bed, reading Dead Souls, brows furrowed in concentration in spite of the noise.

Smirking, she came over and turned down the music to half volume. He only looked up to see her as Johnny Rotten got quieter, and blinked in surprise at her. She set her bag shoulder bag down on the worn wooden floor and sat at the end of the bed, legs hanging off the side.

“Hey, James Dean,” she said. “More light reading?”

He shrugged. “Seems that way.”

Clicking her tongue, she shook her head to herself. “I can just never stomach the Russians.”

Finally, one corner of his mouth quirked slightly upward. “So unrefined.”

She shrugged. “Maybe someday you’ll convert me.”

“Someday.” Jess put his book on the nightstand and ran a hand over his mouth. “You look ready to rock and roll all night and party every day.”

Rolling her eyes, Ella ignored the (millionth) KISS joke and cast her eyes down to her outfit once more. “Thanks. I was going for sort of a Winona Ryder thing.”

“Aren’t you always?”

“That I am,” she smiled, standing from the bed and holding a hand out to him. “We gotta go if we want to see the full set.”

Sighing through his nose, he grabbed her hand to pull himself up and nodded.

“Oh, and I finished my speech today,” she said as she watched him go over to the dresser to change out of the shirt he’d worn on shift and into his Metallica tee.

“Huh.”

“If you wanna read it before graduation, I can give you inside access,” she teased. “Or you can be surprised at the actual ceremony.”

“As long as it doesn’t mention me,” he muttered as he changed and checked his hair in the mirror.

She snorted a laugh. “Don’t flatter yourself, Mariano.”

Watching his reflection in the mirror, she saw a half hearted smirk cross his face. It didn’t reach his eyes. He ran a hand over his mouth again as he appraised his reflection, and Ella’s brows furrowed in concern.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

He turned back to her and gave an unconvincing nod. “Fine.”

“Really? We don’t have to go if you’re not okay, y’know. I mean, I want to see Lane play, but in general I think parties are meaningless excuses for teenage debauchery.”

Jess didn’t look back at her when he spoke, turning off his music and going over by the door to grab his shoes. “We’re going. I know how much you wanna see Lane.”

Biting the inside of her cheek, she noticed the storms brewing in his brown eyes. His face was slightly pale. He looked exhausted. When he straightened up, shoes on, she went over and put her hand to his cheek.

“Do you feel sick?” she asked, feeling him lean into her touch though he wasn’t feverish. “You were fine Thursday night, but you closed alone. Did you get to sleep afterwards? I know sometimes if you work too late you can’t get to sleep-“

“Eleanor,” he cut her off, his voice tired, “I’m fine. Let’s just go. Please.”

Raising at a hesitant brow at the shortness of his tone, she bit her tongue and nodded slowly. He certainly didn’t seem fine, but they would be late if they waited much longer. And Lane was counting on her being there. Jess grabbed her hand and led her out of the apartment. And when he felt her give his hand a reassuring squeeze, he had to swallow down the myriad of emotions which rose in his throat.

.   .   .

Lane’s band, which still had yet to earn a name, got through the first set with little to no bumps in the road. The living room was stuffy, a suburban wet dream filled to the brim with drunk students. An ever-present smile shone on Ella’s face as she watched her friend banging it out on the drums, despite how much she disliked the stickiness of the atmosphere. She knew how much Lane had always wanted this, her own band, her own instrument. As they finished up with their first thirty minutes, having announced an intermission, Dave Rygalski walked by her, Jess, and Rory with a nod. Ella was glad Jess and Dave had been getting along so well. If Jess was going to stay in Stars Hollow for the foreseeable future, he had to have some other friends besides her and Rory. As soon as Lane hopped up from her drums, she came squealing over to the three of them in excitement, engulfing Rory in a hug. However, before she had too much of a chance to babble about the set, Dave whisked her away for a private conversation.

Rory smiled over at Jess and Ella weakly when she saw Dean nearing their vicinity with his new girlfriend, Lindsey, and quickly retreated to another room. Ella leaned back against Jess, who stood behind her, near the pristine couch, with his arms wrapped around her waist. She could feel his breathing against her back, smell his pine scent. And she thought for the first time in a very long time that the future might not just be survivable, but bright. Soon, she would be a high school graduate, be (tentatively) majoring in history, which had been her second-best subject in public school, still working at the diner. It wasn’t what her wildest dreams called for, but it certainly wasn’t bleak.

Jess’s breath was hot on her neck as he spoke into her ear, which was still buzzing from the loud music and the crowd. “You wanna go?”

She shook her head against his chest. “I think we should stay for the second set. And I haven’t even gotten a chance to talk to Lane yet. She’ll probably need my sage wisdom after whatever she and Dave are talking about.”

“Elle, I don’t-”

Before he could finish, he saw Dean and Lindsey heading directly for them.  Ella could feel Jess’s muscles instantly tense, his hands tightening around her own, his face stony. She knew how the feud started, with Dean trying to pull Jess away from a fight when Jess first came to town. But, then again, she had once gotten him off of Peter Smith. Only then, he didn’t take a swing at her like he had at Dean. If Jess hadn’t changed so much since then, and Dean hadn’t been such an asshole to Rory, she probably would’ve been on Dean’s side. But in the few times she’d heard Jess and Dean speak, she knew there was fault on both sides. And she was inclined to align with one of her best friends and her boyfriend before some possessive dick from Chicago.

“Hey, guys,” Dean began, his hand in Lindsey’s grasp as they ambled over. “Have you seen Rory?”

Ella actually liked Lindsey. They’d been acquaintances in high school (though in a class of only about seventy kids, one was usually acquaintances with everyone else), and had always thought her very sweet. And she could rock the bleach blonde look like no one else in their grade. It was certainly a style choice Ella could admire.  

Ella shrugged. “She’s around here somewhere. Why?”

“Just thought I’d say hello,” Dean replied, eyes searching the room for his ex-girlfriend, while his new girlfriend stood at his side.

“How sweet of you,” Jess said, venom in his voice.

Ella cleared her throat and pivoted the conversation before Dean could shoot anything back. “Yeah, anyway, you guys like the band?”

“Oh, they were great. I can’t say I recognized a lot of the songs, though,” Lindsey smiled, her voice light.

Nodding, Ella attempted a generous smile back. “Don’t feel bad. Lane knows every song in the English language. And some in pretty much every other language, too. There are bound to be some deep cuts in their repertoire, if she has any say in the set lists.”

Lindsey chuckled.

“So, Ella, I heard you’re going to Southern Connecticut State?” Dean asked, continuing the small talk despite the thick tension in the air.

Still, Ella forced a plastic smile on her face. She knew Rory wouldn’t want her causing any trouble, as the heartbreak was still so fresh. And she’d been able to master her people-pleasing artificiality after her years of serving Taylor at the diner.

“Yeah. Managed to score a spot.”

“Me too,” Dean said. “What are you going for?”

“History.”

“Oh, cool. I’m thinking maybe business, but I’m not entirely sure yet.” Dean had at some point focused his attention away from Ella and onto Jess, who still had his arms wrapped around Ella, watching the awkwardness silently. He just wanted whatever small town, false polite nonsense which was necessary to be over. “What about you, Jess?”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re not going to college or anything, right? Seems like you’re not going to school at all anymore, anyway.” Dean narrowed his eyes at Jess, and a momentary staring contest ensued.

Disentangling himself from Ella, Jess decided not to humor Dean’s attempt to rile him. “I’m gonna go check out the state of that bathroom line,” he muttered to Ella before trudging off.

Brows furrowing in concern, Ella's eyes lingered on him as he went, until he turned a corner and she lost sight of him. Huffing out an angry breath, she turned back to Lindsey, and Dean, who had a pleased expression on his face. Shaking her head, mostly to herself, she excused herself to go find Lane, maneuvering through the sweaty bodies and drunken mumbles.

.   .   .

Balmy air and crickets, Ella finally found Jess again out on the back porch. Most people were inside, gearing up for the band’s second set. She’d had to spend a pretty long time pulling a drunken Lane off the phone to her mother, aided by a still-shaken Rory. The evening seemed to have come to a screeching halt in the hour since the first set, and Ella was debating grabbing Jess’s hand and dragging him out. It was doubtful Lane would be conscious enough to make it through a song, let alone a second set. When Ella didn’t see his gelled black curls in the living room sea of teenage heads, she knew right where Jess would be. The night was pleasant, not quite too warm or humid, despite it being late May.

He stood with his forearms leaned against the railing, facing the lush green backyard, and he didn’t even look back when he heard her open and close the screen door. Ambling up next to him, her boots felt heavy on her feet. The air was cool on her hot skin, and the spring breeze blew her hair from her face. Arms against the polished wooden rail, mirroring him, she waited a few moments before finally speaking in a soft tone. She tilted her head to the red solo cup Jess held in his hands.

“Penny for a sip?” she asked.

Jess smirked. Saying nothing, he held the cup out to her. Taking a gulp of his slightly warm beer, she grimaced and then handed it back to him.

“Thank you, good sir.”

“Who are you? Oliver Twist?”

She shrugged, noncommittal. “Or Little Orphan Annie. Can’t keep my broadway straight. You could probably help me out.”

“Very funny, Stevens,” he said, a ghost of a smile on his face. But it didn’t meet his eyes. They lacked their usual sardonic sparkle, even in the glowing moonlight.

Leaning into his shoulder, Ella took in another deep breath of the fresh air. “What are you doing out here, James Dean? Did you not bring your sulking book?”

“Just couldn’t handle it inside.” He took another swig of his drink, emptying the cup, and set it carefully on the railing next to him.

“Was it Dean?” Ella asked, placing a hand on the back of his neck and running her fingers through the ends of his hair.

Jess glanced down at the ground with a bitter chuckle. “You think I actually care about Frankenstein’s monster in there?”

She scoffed knowingly. “Okay, fair enough. We can go soon, if you want. Lane’s wasted and Rory’s all messed up about Dean being here. And, I think I forgot to feed the cat? I have no idea why I let him stay in our house. He showed up right after my mom died, and kept hanging around our porch. He was already so old and he was so skinny. So I started letting him in when it got colder. My dad barely even noticed. I thought he’d be grateful, but now he hates us. Guess there was a lot of yelling and crying going on when he first came to live with us. But I suppose misery loves company-”

“I just…” Jess began, cutting off her rambling voice. He knew she was still waiting for an answer, but didn’t want to ask him another question. “You work your ass off for four years, and Dean still gets into the same college as you.”

Ella shrugged. “I don’t mind. There’s lots of people there. I probably won’t ever see him.”

“At least he’s finishing high school,” Jess muttered, shaking his head to himself and looking down at his hands, clenching and unclenching them in fists.

Brows furrowed, Ella’s hand fell from his skin and she tilted her head in askance. “What do you mean?”

He heaved a big sigh, looking out into the woods beyond the yard. Somewhere through the trees, he thought he could see the shine of the lake. An ache tugged at his heart, and his stomach did a flip before he spoke again.

“I went to get prom tickets when you were in the art room at lunch today. But then I got called to the principal’s office. He said I missed too many days.”

“And?”

Chewing on his bottom lip, he shook his head again. “Don’t make me say it, Elle.”

Pursing her lips, she brought her hands to her hips and nodded. “Guess you’ll need my speech in advance, then.”

“Guess so,” he echoed flatly, finally stealing a glance at her to gauge her reaction. With her strong stance, he could practically see the gears moving inside her head. There was a crease of concentration between her eyebrows, and she began biting at her nails absently.

“And you haven’t told Luke yet?” she asked.

“Nope.”

Again, she nodded, more decisive this time. “Okay...okay. I wish you could stay with me, but my dad will have you dead inside a day. I bet if you take twelfth grade over Luke’ll let you stay. I mean, I know he tries to act all tough, but I don’t know who he thinks he’s kidding.”

Jess straightened up again, running a hand over his mouth. He turned to face her. “I’m not going back to school. I can’t.”

“Of course you can, Jess. World bites you, you bite back.”

“Fine, then. I won’t.”

“Why not? Where are you gonna go?”

He could only shrug in response, looking back down at his shoes. Sometimes her gaze was so intense, even he couldn’t handle it. Usually, though, it was because of butterflies in his stomach, not because his heart was pounding nervously in his ears.

Swallowing dryly, she tried to maintain a calm facade. “No, Jess. You can’t do that Kerouac bullshit right now. You need a plan. I mean…” she paused to sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You told me you had it under control. You told me all I had to do was trust you.”

Closing his eyes for a moment, he composed himself and then wiped all emotion from his face when he looked back up at her. “I thought I did. I didn’t know how many days I missed, alright? But who cares! I never learned anything there anyway! It was a waste of my time!”

“And driving that forklift at Walmart forever isn’t a waste of your time?” she retorted, beginning to raise her voice. “If it made you happy, I’d say go for it. But it doesn’t! You’re too fucking smart for your own good, Mariano! You’re meant to be a writer! And you’re gonna settle on wasting your brain just because you were too proud to repeat senior year?!”

“Don’t talk to me about settling!” he countered, shaking his head.

“Fuck you, Jess,” she said, eyes narrowing as more blood rushed to her face, turning her skin scarlet with frustration. “Not everyone can just go wherever they want! Live wherever they want! I have people I actually care about!”

Rubbing at his mouth again, he sighed. “Yeah, well, lucky you! My mother is a wackjob who shipped me off because her boyfriend of the week didn’t like me! And my father is a fucking loser who couldn’t say more than two words when he finally met me!”

Ella took a step back in surprise. “What are you talking about?”

Jess breathed another exhausted sigh. “On Thursday, after you left. While I was closing. My dad came in, saw me for the first time in eighteen years. He told me who he was, took a good long look at me, and then ran right back out of the diner!”

There was a seismic shift in her face, eyes softening, color draining. Shaking her head, she went to touch his shoulder. “Oh my god, Jess. I didn’t-”

He shrugged off her hand. “Yeah, you didn’t know. Because I didn’t tell you. Because I’m just your deadbeat, high school dropout boyfriend who’s gonna work at Walmart for the rest of his life! How disappointing!”

“That’s not what I said!” she exclaimed, swallowing back the sting of tears in her eyes.

“Yeah, well, I can read between the lines pretty well at this point, honey,” he shot back, with a vicious, contemptuous tone.

Biting the inside of her cheek, she tried to remain calm. She tried to remember Jess had just failed senior year and met his dad for the first time in a span of two days. But, as always, the fire in her stomach won. It was something about the way he looked at her. So cold. Like he felt nothing for her at all. Her heart dropped and she began to back away, towards the screen door.

“Fine. Fuck it! Go and find yourself. While I stay here, and think about what a fucking mistake it was to trust you when we said no cop-outs! Serves me right. Holden fucking Caulfield!” she shouted, slamming the sliding door behind her.

Raking a hand through his messy hair, Jess took no more than one moment of hesitation before rushing after her. It was crowded inside, people standing around waiting for a second set which would likely never be played. After a little frantic searching and weaving through smelly bodies, he found her. She was marching up the stairs to find Rory, who stood looking exceedingly uncomfortable speaking with Dean and Lindsey on the landing. Ella tugged on Rory’s sleeve, muttering something about finding Lane and leaving the drums to pick up later. A scowl crossed her face the moment she looked back to see Jess.

“Did he do something, Ella?” Dean piped up, towering over her and casting an authoritative glance at Jess.

Ella snorted a laugh and shook her head. “You can stand down, Dean. He did nothing. Nothing at all. Fuck off, alright, Mariano?”

Catching the finitive, vitriolic tone in Ella’s voice, Jess shook his head back at her. Apparently she had decided the conversation was over. “Right back at ya, then, Stevens.”

But as he went to leave, Dean kicked into action. Before Ella, Rory, or Lindsey, could grab him and pull him back, he went into full testosterone rage and lunged after Jess, turning him about and clocking him square across the face. Ella watched in horror, and immediately went after them. Confusion painted her face. She heard Dean muttering under his breath as he fought, about what an asshole Jess was, about how Rory’s friends were his responsibility too, and they shouldn’t be spoken to that way. About how it was time Jess got a taste of his own medicine, making him feel like an idiot in class and acting like he was too good for Stars Hollow. She’d never had any classes with Dean and Jess, but the altercation made her wonder how deeply the feud ran. Apparently, much deeper than she ever thought. If not for the urgency of the situation, Ella would have rolled her eyes harder than she had prior known was humanly possible. She couldn’t help but wonder what at all Rory or Lindsey saw in that sexist prick. In Ella’s opinion, the Donna Reed Show incident two years earlier should’ve been the end of the relationship.

All around the house, they fought, various others trying to pull them off of each other. Each time Ella thought she had an opening to grab Dean or Jess around the waist, they moved, jostling around. It was far more intense than the quarrel in the schoolyard had been. No, tonight there would be blood drawn. Finally, after a decent amount of carnage to the mid-century Connecticut two-story, someone managed to throw the two of them out onto the front lawn, still at each other’s throats. Ella yelled endlessly for them to stop, but neither listened. Only the sound of the police sirens approaching, red and blue lights flashing on the manicured grass, finally made them separate, a few boys at the party also aiding the effort.

Just as Ella started rushing over to Jess, Lane began vomiting up the shitty keg beer she’d gulped down all night long into the trimmed bushes. Rory was by her side, but ultimately Ella cast only a sympathetic glance their way before continuing after Jess. She caught up with him a few paces down the sidewalk, grabbing the sleeve of his t-shirt to finally stop him.

“Jess, Jesus, are you okay?” she demanded, trying to get a substantial glimpse at his face.

Once again, he shook off her touch. He turned back to her in the light of the sheriff’s car, eyes darker than she had ever seen them. “Get outta here, Eleanor! I don’t need your help!”

“But, your-”

“Stop, Elle, just stop!” he interrupted, gesturing with his arms and practically bursting with anger. “Stop chasing after me! Stop trying to help me! That’s over! I don’t need it, alright? You can just fucking stop!”

Clutching at her necklace, she felt a heavy weight settle in her stomach, gluing her to the spot where she stood, hazel eyes impossibly wide. Watching him go, watching him disappear around a corner, watching him walk away. And the worst part was how unsurprised she felt. Had it always been this way? Him ready to leave at a moment’s notice, and her stuck in her old, familiar ways? Were they bound to end the moment they began? She should have seen it sooner. Suddenly, the sounds of the siren and the singing of late spring crickets overwhelmed her ears, and she could do nothing but stand motionless, feeling a sharp crack in her heart.

[immortalbarnes]

A Cabin For Two | Chapter 1: Here Comes the Sun

Bucky Barnes x Reader

summary: you and Bucky live another day in paradise and visit an old friend

warnings: just a little angst... and some internalized anger towards Steve Rogers

A/N: mainly a setup chapter, also this is my way of letting out pent out emotions towards the writers of endgame’s decision of sending Steve back in time

prologue

A normal day in the cabin consisted of semi-early mornings with something sizzling on the stove and the strong fragrance of coffee wafting through the dewy morning air. To the normal person, life in the middle-of-nowhere-New-York seems isolating and boring, but for two ex-hydra elite super soldiers, there is nothing better.

As Bucky brews a fresh batch of dark roasted perfection, you flip the finale of the stack of pancakes he suggested to make in bed some time earlier, and there is comfortable silence between the two of you, as you hear the coffee maker sing and feel your pristine white cat, Alpine, rub against your ankles.

Bucky comes up behind you and wraps his built arms around your waist, humming a Sinatra song you both originally missed out on in the 50’s. You smile, tossing the final silver dollar pancakes onto the tray to your right. He slips back away from you in time to turn off the stove and turn to see him now reaching out for you to dance with him as he begins to sing the words of a totally different song, probably from an entirely different era. (70 years of music is hard to catch up on)

“Here comes the sun…” He quietly sings to you as you step into his embrace, “And I say… It’s all right.” He serenades you, off key as his voice is still sleepy and gravelly, as you slow dance in the kitchen, Alpine circling you two.

“That’s not what you were humming earlier.” You contentedly point out.

“Forgot the words to that one,” He replies and continues singing The Beatles song.

“Doo-dun-doo-doo”

After he slowly closes out the tune, you gather your pancakes, syrup, coffee (of course), and some assorted fruits, and go out to the front porch. Out there, a small picnic table on your porch basks in the rising morning sun. You splay out your food and utensils, sit, and merrily eat, listening to birds chirp and watching bunnies scurry back to their homes.  Bucky’s eyes are shining as he watches the sun slowly rise. Neither of you know what time it is, your best guess is 7 or 8, but it doesn’t matter. There’s no missions to be sent out on, no reports to file, and  no one ordering you where to be. It’s you, Bucky, and mother nature, and you couldn’t ask for anything more.

“Y/N?” Bucky asks after a while, snapping you out of your content haze. His voice is quiet and soft, as if he intended to not startle you.

“Yes?”

“What should we do today?” You knew he was going to ask this question, for he asks it everyday. Somedays you go fishing or hunting, others you curl up by the fireplace and read to each other, and others you go on hikes, but no matter what the answer turns out to be, it’s the perfect answer.

“I don’t know, my love, is there anything you want to do today?”

“Can we visit Steve today? It’s been a while since…” He begins to attempt to justify, but you don���t need to hear it. Nothing broke your heart more than when Bucky found out Steve went back to the 40’s. You loved Steve, for he was everything to Bucky, and you do your best to be everything for him.

“Of course. Do you want to pick wildflowers to bring him? I want some for a centerpiece in our dining room too.” You offer, knowing that bringing Steve small gifts, like pies or paintings, helps Bucky know he’s doing everything he can for his best pal. Part of it hurts to see it, for it angers you that he would leave you two, that he would leave Bucky helpless and alone in a new world far from the one you knew.

…

It’s a short walk to a hill behind your cabin that’s draped in flowers. Having a lot of time on your hands, you began studying the natural floral of the state. Your personal favorite was the Trientalis borealis, or starflower, for it reminds you of the star on Bucky’s old arm, the one you used as a symbol for hope in your days with hydra. Waking up from cryo, you always searched for that deep red star, so you could know your soldier was there with you. Bucky loves Claytonia caroliniana, the spring beauties, only because he loved putting them in your hair. He claimed that the pale pink complimented your y/h/c strands perfectly.

Bucky picked some trout lilies, their petals a vibrant yellow, and you added some white wood aster to go with them. After adding some other plants you’re yet to learn about, you march back to your cabin and tie off the bouquet with some twine before getting into Bucky’s silver Jeep and heading to the city.

…

Steve’s eyes light up when he sees you and Bucky walk through the door, just like how Bucky’s light looking at the morning sun. Supposedly, there’s not much for America’s Golden Boy at Sunny Acres Nursing Home, so maybe Bucky is his sun.

“Bucky! Y/N!” Steve weakly greets the two of you as you walk in. Bucky is like a child, smiling at his wrinkled best friend, holding the small bouquet behind his back. He happily skips to the right side of the bed Steve is currently in, grinning ear to ear.

“We brought you these,” Bucky says as he presents Steve with the twine bound wildflowers you had picked this morning, “I hope you like them, we picked trout lilies this time to brighten up your room.”

“Geez, punk, don’t go soft on me now,” Steve jokes, “I love them.” With those simple words, Bucky beams. He can’t bear to think about how he was no longer there for Steve during his years on ice, so he tries everything to make it up to him during his final years.

“Jerk.” Bucky mumbles.

“Hey, Buck, y’all catch up. I’ll put the flowers in a vase.” You pitch in, taking the flowers to the small kitchenette on the other side of the room. Replacing the last bouquet you brought him now dried out and wilting, you find a nurse there preparing a meal. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t see you there!” You politely greet her, “My names Y/N.”

“Oh, I know, if it wasn’t for the news stories, it would be from Steve constantly talking about you and Mr. Barnes,” she says, “My name is Helen. I’m Mr. Roger’s primary caregiver.”

“Thank you for all you do for our friend. You said he talks about us a lot?” You inquire.

“Oh, all the time. He’s told me so many stories of the Avengers, and of course of  him and Mr. Barnes from before World War II. His stories are incredible!” Her smile is genuine as he continues the soup for Steve, “You know, as much as some of the other heroes try to come and visit him, nothing compares to how happy he is after Bucky visits. It’s really incredible how close they are.”

“Yes… It is.” You can’t help but feel a ting in your stomach when she said that. A small part of you will never forgive Steve for leaving Bucky, but you gotta get over it at some point.

Suddenly, you hear Steve erupt in a wheezy laughter at something Bucky says. Interested, you lean against the frame of the kitchen’s entrance to get a better ear to what they’re saying.

“...and Sam couldn’t stop laughing! It was one of the craziest things Alpine has ever done. Maybe I should bring him here! He’s quite the cuddler.” Bucky finished a story about your beloved cat, and you smile at the two super soldiers talking as if nothing ever happened.

“‘Scuse me,” Helen squeezes past you through the door, soup in hand, “Here’s your lunch, Mr. Rogers.”

“Helen, dear, please call me Steve.” Steve chuckles, “So how is Sam? He was here a couple of weeks ago. Is he still working with the shield?”

“He is. Sometimes he comes over, so I can help him get used to it. I guess it’s not as easy for someone without the serum.” Sam resided in a cabin not too far from yours, and he came over a good amount. If there was anyone who came close to filling the whole Steve left in Bucky, it was The Falcon himself.

“That’s good. The three of you should come up together sometime… with Alpine too!” Steve says, his attention then shifts to you across the room, “How are you, Y/N? Keeping Bucky busy I hope.”

“Oh definitely!” You laugh, striding to his bed, “‘few days ago, we shot a buck early in the morning. My guess was a good 160 pounds. We cooked it and invited Sam over for ribs that night! Had enough leftovers for two days.”

“Didn’t know deer-pot-pie was a thing until she figured out how to make it!” Bucky added, pulling you in by the waist and kissing the top of your forehead. You can’t help but glance down at the portrait of Peggy on his bedside table; right next to a picture of him and Bucky from the war.

The three of you converse for hours, and before you know it, Helen is bringing Steve his dinner. She politely points out that visiting hours are almost over, but that you’re welcome back anytime. You bid farewell to Steve and return to your vehicle for the drive back home.

“Buck?” You timidly say in the car, “Do you ever wish you went back to the 40’s with him?”

He thinks for a while, until he finally speaks, “I don’t think there was anything for me… besides Steve of course. Now, I have you. As long as I have you, I’m happy in any century.”

You bathe once again the happy silence for the rest of the car ride. How did you get so lucky? You did terrible, unimaginable things during your time under Hydra control, so why did the universe let you have someone so magnificent as James Buchanan Barnes?

…

You’re greeted by Alpine as soon as you step over the threshold of your front door. By the time you got back, the sun had begun to set, so you began to start on dinner. Bucky marinated fish you had gotten at a local farmers market the other day, while you washed vegetables from the garden you had out back for a salad.

The two of you sat together at your mahogany dining table, centered with a bouquet of wildflowers similar to the one you gifted Steve. The two of you made small talk, nothing but plans for the next day and compliments to each other on dinner… Until Bucky suddenly says:

“Y/N?” He began, “You know I love you, right?”

“And I love you.”

“You’re everything I’ll ever need, doll, you’re the hope I had in Hydra, and you’re the life I had after it. Ever since I first laid eyes on you at that war camp, I knew you were the gal for me. You’re my world. Never forget that.”

A tear begins to slide down your face, but you didn’t notice it until Bucky wiped it from your cheek, “Thank you, Bucky, I love you so much.”

The sun leaves you and your lover, ending another perfect day in the middle-of-nowhere-New-York.

[trashmancan47]

Yo, dropping this just because

Logan. Logan is all he needed.  

So Logan’s working, Remus is knocking. Not much else to say bruh, just read. …….. If you wanna. Logan was sitting at his desk as usual, and working on next month's schedule for Thomas, of course he was planning ahead of time, as usual. He was sitting at his desk, with his computer in front of him, playing some music that he enjoyed listening to, a pencil in his hand being moved to the melody of the song, along with his foot to the beat. A calendar was placed in front of him, taped to the desk so that he would see it every time he looked at his desk, reminding him of everything even if he already had it all in his head, he was always prepared. Right now his room was a deep blue color, he had it this way because he found it most relaxing, and quite enjoyed how it reflected on the many surfaces in his room. Logan actually for once had his tie off, and just his shirt, the buttons undone, and fluffy black night pants, though the strings were tied evenly, and in a nice bow. His tie was put away neatly with his others, and his pants in the bin to be cleaned of course. The corners of his lips were up a little forming a small smile as he hummed a little to the song he was honestly enjoying himself, and was happy with himself for once, happy enough to smile, which he never normally did, it was hard to get him to smile, well for some of the sides it was. He had stopped humming when he heard a set of knuckles softly tap the top of his door. One… Two… Three.. He had never heard this knock before, never this slow, never his soft, and never so coordinated, and with no voice to travel after it, each side had their own knock, and Logan knew each one by heart. Most a voice would follow with, but this was nothing, but a knock. At first Logan had grown weary, and just stared at the door pausing his music, and keeping his hands on his desk, his head turned to the door, trying to figure out if it was indeed a person out there, and whom. He slowly started to stand, pushing his chair back with his legs, and his hands falling to his side after adjusting his glasses. One… Two…. Three…. Once again he heard the knocking coming from the middle of his door this time, somehow softer. Logan heard shuffling that only lasted a second as he started to walk to the door finally, his mind wanting to know who it was that was making the soft noise on the wooden door. Once Logan reached it, and his hand wrapped around the knob, turning it, and opening it, his eyes started from the feet up. He already knew who it was from the one black, one green sock that was worn, along with neon green space themed night pants, and no shirt. Once his eyes met the others, his own head tilted up slightly, since the other was taller by a few inches. He looked into the dark green eyes that looked glazed, his own face had changed to one of sorrow, and emotional pain for the other, seeing the tear streaks that ran down his cheeks. “Remus. Why are you upset?” Logan asked, his voice staying monotone as usual, but his expression having changed having seen the red, puffy, and watery eyes, the wet cheeks, the slightly pouty lips, and how emotionally drained the other seemed. The others normal makeup was off, and his eyes still dark from not taking it all off, his curly hair messy, and disheveled. The sides had their own looks in the Mindscape, as to where when Thomas saw them, they all looked like him. Logan looked pretty much the same as he normally did, but his hair was normally better kept, and more formal. Normally Logan would just ask what was wrong, without having shown any worry for why they were, or any emotion at all really. Remus only looked at Logan, wiping an eye, and then moving forward, swiftly, and quickly wrapping his arms around Logan’s torso, and buried his head into Logan's neck, feeling more tears threaten to fall already. Logan himself took a moment, taken back by the embrace, his arms not at his sides, but not hugging back yet, they were more awkwardly by Remus’ torso, Logan’s eyes open wide from the sudden action, him not used to anyone touching him, they didn’t do it to him, or offer him, and he preferred it that way. Though after a couple seconds he pushed his arms to Remus’ body as well, hugging the other back, gently as he pulled Remus into his room while in the hug, and pushing the door closed with his foot. The other moved easily, Logan pulling Remus with him to the bed, and sitting at the end of the bed, Remus went to sit next to Logan, but Logan pulled him gently to his lap. Remus let out more sobs as Logan held him, moving a hand to the middle of his back, and the other on the back of his head, tangling in his hair, not saying anything as he pulled back enough to just place a gentle kiss to his forehead, his eyes going half lidded as he looked to Remus, bringing the hand from his head to his chin. He pushed Remus' head up just a bit, seeing the tear streaks, and seeing the actual tears fall from his face, his eyes were puffy, red, and his hair a mess. “Baby… Why are you so upset? What happened?” Logan spoke softly, and put the hand on his cheek now wiping the tears from on cheek, Remus turning his head a little more into the hand. He whimpered a little, and drew back one of his arms, taking a hand, and grabbing the other hand that belonged to the Logical side. He pulled the hand to his heart, and Logan felt the slow beat, him sighing a little, and caressing his cheek. “Roman.. It was Roman wasn’t it.” Remus only sobbed more, nodding as more tears fell from his eyes, his heart feeling like it was being pulled from his chest. Only small noises would leave as the tears did, but he was still very much upset. Logan wrapped his arms around Remus again, and Remus tightly holding Logan. Remus would become upset whenever he would go to his brother, just being himself, and Roman would tolerate it for so long before he would lash out, and tell Remus how horrible he was, and how much he hated having Remus here, that he had to say he was related to him. Remus hated it, he loved his brother, that was his brother, of course he did, he wanted nothing more than to be the way they used to be, playing with one another happily, hanging out, talking like normal people, one another caring for each other. Roman, and Remus used to be inseparable, they used to laugh with one another, talk, play games, go on quests together, and work together. Remus wanted that back, he didn’t know what changed in Roman, but something had snapped in him, he one day just yelled at Remus, telling him everything he did wrong, telling him that everything he was, was disgusting, and shouldn’t exist, that he was horrible, that he wasn’t normal, wasn’t needed, shouldn’t be here. The first time it happened Remus ran to the imagination to find it split, one was bright, and had flowers, unicorns, and a bunch of happy things, while the other side was darker, raining, full of dead grass, bones, wilting flowers, and trees that were dying. He ran as fast as he could, tears streaming down his face, running, and running, sobbing, sniffling, and eventually he fell over a rock. He fell, and once on the ground he just laid there. He laid on his side, curling his legs to his chest, and head into his knees, crying on the dry dirty ground, rain covering him, and making him cold, shivering, but didn’t care, he didn’t care about the coldness, the numbness that started at his toes, and fingertips He just stayed there, he hadn’t known how long or cared, all he knew was he stayed there until he was completely numb, and blacked out. When he woke, he was perched up against a tree, and had a royal blue umbrella covering him, along with a scarf. The scarf was white, and black, with a single strip of white through it. He had warmed slightly, yet saw no one, though later in life, he learned who it was, found someone who never judged him, never left, never lied, never betrayed him, someone who stayed by his side, helped him, held his hand, figuratively, and literately, if he fell this person was there to pick him back up. This person was Logan, he was the only one who stayed, helped, and even cared anymore. When he lost the only one who meant anything to him, Logan had helped him back up, helped him see more, and realize what he was, could be, what he could achieve. “W-why does he have to hate me.. I-I didn’t do anything to him…” Remus spoke between sobs, Logan softly shushing him softly, and rubbed small circles into his back. “Shh shh, it’s okay, I’m sure he doesn’t hate you Remus. He just needs time, he needs to realize that you’re needed, that you didn’t ask to be Intrusive Thoughts. He doesn’t understand yet.” Remus nodded only slightly as the touch to his back started to help calm him, and evening his breath, using the rise, and fall of his chest to do so. He knew Roman would never change, he was hard headed like that, so stubborn, so set on what he believed. Roman eventually could understand again, could realize it, but Remus doubted that he alone could do it, and Logan was never listened to, so there wasn’t a hope… Logan was all he had anymore.

Logan.

Logan was all he needed.

So honestly I did, but didn’t finish this. I like where I ended it, but there was more I could have added. This is what ya get though. If you want more just say! I hope you had an amazing day, night, afternoon, whatever it is for you!  Remember, you’re awesome!

[sadienita]

A Song For You

Jihoon x Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Genre: Fluff

Requested by @im-not-an-egirl-im-baby: Hi, I was wondering if you could possibly do a fic where the reader confesses to Woozi by using a song they wrote? And it's pretty fluffy? Thank you! P.s. I love your writing!

Your fingers lifted off the keys slowly as the last chord resonated, the sound slowly dying away.

“So you’re gonna play it for him, right?” your friend asked, leaning against the wall of the practice room.

“I can’t it’s not ready,” you muttered, grabbing your pencil and erasing a few notes, adjusting them slightly.

Your friend rolled her eyes. “It’s been ready for weeks. You’re just scared.”

“It’s not ready,” you hissed. “Some of the chords still aren’t right, and there’s that bit in the bridge where the melody doesn’t work, and then the leading notes here are all-”

“You’re making the same changes!” she cried, exasperated. “You’ve been making the same changes to the song for the last three weeks. You’re going back and forth but the song is done.”

You slumped back, sinking into the piano bench. “He’s gonna hate it,” you sighed.

“Oh my god!” She pushed away from the wall. “He is not going to hate it and and do you know why? Because he likes you! He definitely has feelings for you!”

“He’s nice to me, we’re friends that’s how that works,” you mumbled.

“He tolerates me, he tolerates most of us and he’s nice to his friends. You really don’t see how he looks at you?” she asked.

You gave her a confused look and she groaned.

“My dude, he looks at you like the sun shines out of your ass. How do you now see that?”

You chewed on your lip nervously before taking a drink from your water, stalling. You really hadn’t seen what she seemed to. She couldn’t be right could she?

You second guessed everything when it came to Jihoon. You read everything as him being nice to you or being your friend because that’s what he was. You knew he didn’t have lots of friends, he only got really close to a few people. But you had a hard time believing he had fallen for you. You didn’t know why you’d even written the song in the first place. There was no way you would ever have the nerve to show it to him.

“I don’t…” you mumbled.

She cursed under her breath as she left the practice room, looking like a woman on a mission. You peeked after her, both nervous and curious as to what her plan was. You watched as she walked down to the end of the hallway, listening at a door before knocking. You felt yourself flushing as Jihoon opened up the door with a slightly annoyed look as she said something quietly and pointed towards the room you were in.

You slammed the door quickly, feeling slightly panicked as you heard his footsteps coming down the hallway. You were going to kill her, you were really going to kill her.

You squeezed your eyes shut, wishing you could disappear as Jihoon knocked on the door.

“Hey, you friend said you had something to show me?” his voice was muffled through the door but not enough that he wouldn't know what you were saying.

“Y-Yeah,” you replied shakily. You were sure he would figure it out if you tried to come up with a lie now. You opened the door slowly and he met you with a small smile as he stepped into the small practice room.

“Are you okay?” he asked carefully. “You look kinda stressed.”

“I’m fine,” you squeaked, shifting from one foot to the other. A moment of silence stretched between the two of you and you felt yourself wilting.

“So… you had something to show me?” he asked.

You glanced at the piano and he followed you gaze, noticing the sheet music. A smile broke across his face as he moved towards the instrument.

“You’ve been composing?” he asked, clearly excited. He knew you loved writing and he’d helped you keep with theory class in your first year so the fact that you were composing now, a few years later, you knew excited him.

“Y-Yeah,” you mumbled. “Yeah I’ve been working on it. I-It’s not perfect yet…”

He shook his head. “It never feels perfect. Can I hear it?”

You nodded numbly, sitting at the piano bench. He perched on the edge of the bench, watching you excitedly.

You took a few deep breaths, stalling for a moment as you shuffled around the papers a little before sitting up properly. You shook out your hands and just barely caught the small smile on his lips. Sure, he was nervous when he played things for you or showed you what he was working on but he really didn’t know what you were about to play.

You brought your fingers to the keys, relaxing as you played the intro of the song. You tried your best to think of it as a performance, to block everything out. It was like a recital, like a jury, like studio. People listened to you play all the time. This was no different. You kept telling yourself that as you focused on the keys under your fingers and the lyrics falling off your lips and you hoped that he would get the hint and hoped he wouldn't all at the same time.

You still felt heat rising in your cheeks as you sang the heartfelt lyrics. You weren’t sure if you had ever wanted him to hear the song but he was hearing it now. You tried not to let the thought of him rejecting you seep into you mind as you entered the final chorus. You knew your voice wasn’t as good as it could have been, and you were kicking yourself for the sour note that you should have changed. It felt now like there were so many mistakes, like you had missed so many things. Jihoon was here for composition, what were you even thinking writing him a song?

You lifted your fingers off the keys as the final notes of the song slowly decayed. You kept your eyes on the sheet music, not daring to look at Jihoon, not even daring to asked what he thought. You were far too scared of his reaction.

“Did… Is this… Did you write this for me?” you couldn’t read his tone and it was killing you.

“Yeah,” you shifted uncomfortably. “There’s- I mean it’s not very good I just noticed a bunch of stuff I could have done better and I’m sure you heard them and my voice was pretty shaky anyway s-”

Your words died on your tongue as Jihoon hugged you tightly. You sat there, stunned as you processed his reaction, trying to figure out what it meant.

“D-Did- Do you-”

“I loved it,” he hummed, pulling back enough to look at you. There was a blush on his cheeks and you suspected that he did, in fact, understand the meaning in your song. “Why didn’t- You could have told me how you felt.”

You felt heat licking up your cheeks. “I couldn’t. Why would I? You’re incredible. You’re so smart, and talented, and you were so patient with me when we worked on theory and you’ve been such a good friend and I’m-”

“Just as fantastic?” His voice was a little unsteady as he spoke. “You- I mean I feel-” he took a deep breath. “Do you wanna go out, sometime? Or something?”

It took until that moment for relief to wash over you, a smile tugging at your lips.

“Definitely.”

[theflowergirl]

🤍 Wangji Week 2020 🤍 #5, Bearer of Light

Canon Divergence, Wangxian never met as students

For @syolen, happy birthday ❤

It’s rare to watch the rain at the Cloud Recesses. It snows for a good portion of the year, at any part of the day, obscuring the skies in gray and covering the shivering trees and wilting flowers in frost, the crystals reflecting the shy sunshine when it peaks through the clouds. The rain, however, isn’t non-existent. Like the Gusu Lan disciples that are taught to give back to the world that borne them, the Earth has its way to run its course, to paint the trees in green, to shower on flowing waters in a never-ending circle of life. It rains mostly at night, when the cultivators of Gusu, save for those on patrol or on night hunts, are asleep. It’s a melody drumming on roofs, humming in dreams. Elegant like billowy sleeves, waving like silk curtains by windows. It’s just the sky running its cycle, mindless, uncaring of worldly matters.

 On the night the Yiling Patriarch taps on his door, the sky seems to flash, darkening the shadows. The rain feels almost oppressive, as if rejecting the air that blows out of the man’s lungs. Lan Wangji can scarcely believe the black of the man’s clothes, his slim figure accentuated by his drenched state, and the piercing ferocity of his eyes. At his back, lightning flashes again. On his back, a child flinches.

 “Second young master Lan,” he says as a greeting, not attempting any kind of formal salute. His voice is raspy, tired, but a blade. “I couldn’t think of anybody else.”

 Lan Wangji’s reflexes are the only thing that save him from crashing onto the Quiet Room’s floor, and though he can barely keep himself upright, his arms, painfully stiff at that point, keep on holding onto the child. Caught by reluctant arms, breathing hard against the fabric of Wangji’s clothes, he speaks again, frantic. “An attack is imminent, I couldn’t... A-Yuan, I can’t leave him there, so please...”

 As his voice reaches the pitch of desperation, he loses consciousness, leaving Lan Wangji alone with his maddening thoughts. How did he get there? How did he break through the wards without anyone noticing? How did he find him? And why—

  “I couldn’t think of anybody else.”

 He had fought alongside this man during the Sunshot Campaign. Had seen the wild glint of his eyes, heard the beckoning death song of his flute. He’s seen the trail of blood he leaves with his footsteps, and kept on hearing about it even after he cast himself aside, after he set himself atop the ruins of resentment in Yiling. Looking at him now, Lan Wangji sees only a man and a child, both on their way to certain sickness. A-Yuan. With the Yiling Patriarch? Certainly Wen Yuan. Public enemies, causes of endless discussion between the sects. Demonic cultivator. Wet and cold, curling on themselves at his feet.

“Please...”

Lan Wangji clenches his jaw. Peeking his head through the doors of the Quiet Room, he looks left and right, and upon seeing no one, he closes the three of them off from the world.

 The Yiling Patriarch has a lot of explanation to do.

***

 The man doesn’t sleep, and it has nothing to do with sickness. Even after Wangji discarded his wet clothes and dressed him in his own, even in the dim light of candles and with incense burning to calm them (all three of them, his own heart beating restless inside his chest), Wei Wuxian doesn’t sleep. Lan Wangji is forced to line his own walls with talismans so the whole Cloud Recesses doesn’t wake to the sound of the man’s wailing, but they’re far from the realms of safety, all with the tendrils of darkness that seem to snake out from Wei Wuxian’s very pores.

 Lan Wangji makes to stand from the man’s side, intent on getting his guqin to play any — every — song to appease the resentful energy, but Wei Wuxian grabs his wrist, holds his back.

 “It’s under control,” he makes through gritted teeth.

 “Demonic cultivation harms the body, the spirit and the heart,” he throws back, in thinly veiled exasperation.

 “What would you know about me?” Wei Wuxian barks, his eyes opening wide, tinted red. He looks like a rabid dog, and his grip on Lan Wangji would be bruising on anybody else. But as soon as the words are out of his mouth, he screams, back arching off the sheets, and the wisps of darkness almost appear to laugh in the air.

 Lan Wangji makes do. With his free hand, he reaches for the black dizi, a relic already etched in cultivation history. Every Lan disciple in the future will know its name from the books in the Cloud Recesses and the part it played in the Sunshot Campaign, but no one but Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji will know that more than one person drew their breath through it.

 He’s not good at it, not like he is at the guqin, but brother taught him the dizi and the xiao. He frowns in concentration, trying his best to play Cleasing. It’s far from perfect at first, but it helps that he knows the song by heart, that the melody exists inside of him as easy as breathing, after years and years with it at his fingertips. The darkness inside the instrument taunts him, penetrates his nostrils, once again seeming to laugh, but he plays on, breaks through its rage and vileness. He can feel Wei Wuxian loosen his hold on him until he lets go altogether, feels his own brow ease back into tranquility, the song gentle, caressing and a little more certain, as if Chenqing allows him this one moment of respite, just this once. The moment the song fades, he feels the instrument tug against his grasp, and he lets it fall back, by Wei Wuxian’s side.

 The thick, tense silence is broken by the Yiling Patriarch’s chuckle.

 “You are truly the Light-bearer.”

 And whether he means it as a jab or praise, Wangji will never know, for those eyes, finally serene and catching the candle’s warmth, fall closed.

 ***

 The rain is but a light drizzle as the dawn nears, a buzzing that helps Lan Wangji meditate, when he hears Wei Wuxian move again. He’s already shoving the sheets aside when Wangji unhurriedly gets to his side, and he struggles against the hands that try to hold him back.

 (He knows, without having ever exchanged but a glance with the man prior to this night, that words are futile against him.)

 “Thank you for your hospitality, second young master Lan, but I must return before your entire sect awakens.”

 “You’re still weak,” Lan Wangji says, trying to push him back, just then realizing how weak the other really is, by the ashen color of his skin.

 “I cannot be here,” he says, only managing to get Lan Wangji’s hands off his shoulders because the cultivator lets him. “The Wens need me, I need to go back.”

 “How do you mean to survive like this?” Lan Wangji says, voice betraying its usual calm, if only for a minimal rise in volume. Looking back at the bed, he notices the Wen child is still asleep, albeit frowning. He’ll have to take him to the healers to make sure he’s not sick.

 Wei Wuxian tries to open the doors, but they don’t budge. When he turns around, even with his shoulders dropped low with exhaustion, his glare is a tell-tale of horror stories.

 “Let me out,” he says, low, heavy with promise. “You cannot keep me here.”

 “Why did you come here, Wei Wuxian?” Lan Wangji asks, fists clenched by his sides.

 “For A-Yuan, and nothing more. Your sect prides itself in righteousness, and although that’s been a bad joke since the end of the war, you’re better than nothing. Let me out.”

 Lan Wangji takes a step closer, never one to fear the chaos.

 “Why did you come to me?”

 Wei Wuxian is something like a beast, his nostrils opening wide as he struggles to breathe.

 “Lan Wangji!” He yells, and on the bed, Wen Yuan lets out a small whine.

 “Wei Wuxian!” He shouts back, because he sees something in the idiosyncrasies of this man, who walks into the most secure sect’s home like it’s nothing, all for a child. He can almost glimpse the answers he’s been looking since the end of the war, the answers for the other sects’ behavior against the remaining Wens, for the helplessness he notices in his brother, between those frantic eyes. So he tries, takes a leap, for the peace of his own heart. “Do you trust me?”

 His voice is low, controlled, a mimicry of his usual tone. Wei Wuxian’s laugh is guttural, tinged dark.

 “Is that what you think?”

 No.

 “Wen Yuan,” he says, and the uncomfortable smile on Wei Wuxian’s face falters. “I promise to take care of him. Do you trust me?”

 The man seems to search for something in his eyes too. Perhaps they’re both stranded, desperate for an anchor.

 “After coming all the way here, I don’t have a choice, do I?”

 “After coming all the way here,” Lan Wangji echoes, “You have a choice.”

 He walks to the low table in the room, where he often talks to his brother, where he’s often studied all the principles that made him who he is, and he sits down. Locking gazes with Wei Wuxian, who’s still frozen by the doors, he motions for the place across from him. It is almost time for the Cloud Recesses to wake. If Wei Wuxian denies him, what will he do? Will he lock him up and surrender him to trial? (Do not associate with evil.) Or will he let him go to fight for those under his protection? (Be fair, and they will follow you.)

 He holds his gaze and waits.

 Do you trust me?

 (Believe sincerely.)

 A laugh bubbles out of Wei Wuxian. Lan Wangji can’t help but blink, slightly surprised at its clarity.

 “Light-bearing Lord, you realize I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

 “I will listen.”

 He falters again. With an arm around his middle and no threat at his lips, Wei Wuxian looks positively young.

 Lan Wangji nods, a short, almost imperceptible gesture that does not reflect the storm inside of him. But he wants to listen, wants to be trusted, wants to understand. Just what happened to the world he thought he knew, that he agreed with, three thousand rules at its base.

 Wei Wuxian moves, sits across from him, and extends his hands, palms up. He blinks, slowly, before looking up at those eyes that contain too much to be read.

 “You said you’d listen. Do you want to see instead?”

 He doesn’t hesitate. They don’t have enough time, not to think about the dangers, to think about regret. He lays his hands on Wei Wuxian’s (warm, too warm), looks back at his eyes one last time and then closes his own, lets himself be pulled into the other, to see what he saw.

 ***

 He’s panting when he opens his eyes again, exhaling dozens of emotions with each breath. Grief, wrath, anxiety, paranoia. They burn in his lungs, in his heart, in his head. He can still see the fire crackling before his eyes, taste the corpses in his tongue, and he’s crying without even taking notice of it, the tears trailing down his face, down to his hair, down to the table.

 He raises his gaze to look at Wei Wuxian, who’s already halfway towards the door. Lan Wangji makes no effort to keep them closed this time, he just watches as the man known as the Yiling Patriarch (wrong, they’re so wrong about him) opens the doors and the rising sun casts him in light. He takes one last look at the boy fast asleep on the bed before gracing Lan Wangji with his attention and parting words.

 “Light-bearing lord, second young master Lan Wangji, Lan Zhan,” he recites, and it’s almost lyrical, but too sad. “What can you do now that you know?”

 And he parts, leaving a piece of him behind, a piece that Lan Wangji will never be able to shake off.

 The second young master of Gusu Lan breathes, and he cries, and he vows, all in silence.

 ***

 Wait, he cries in his mind as he parries one more attack to Wei Wuxian. Wait, he pleads as he strikes down one more elder from his own sect. When he finds his brother in the turmoil of the battlefield, he doesn’t see the brother who taught him all he knew of love and trust and righteousness. Lan Xichen has nothing of calm, he’s just desolate with the dirt of the battlefield all over him. Maybe he shouldn’t have placed the weight of the truth on him, but could he bear to carry it all by himself, powerless as he was?

 “Wei Wuxian,” he calls to the man who walks away, putting a distance between himself and the men who fight over the remains of the Stygian Tiger Seal. “Wei Ying,” he tries again, because he once felt his lifetime like it was his own, because if there’s villainy in him for the blood in his hands, then they all carry it, too, unable to be washed away and covered up by elegant robes.

 The Yiling Patriarch, Wei Wuxian, Wei Ying turns to him. His hair, unbound, casts shadows over Wangji’s figure as he stands with his back to the rising sun.  He had asked Lan Wangji to do something, but he couldn’t help him in the end. Lan Wangji loathes it. Loathes the outcome, his helplessness, and the ones he can hear fighting over the Patriach’s power right behind him.

 Had they truly all lost their way?

 He expects Wei Wuxian to curse him, to look at him the same way he did when he left him with A-Yuan, but he doesn’t. His shoulders shake, but not with barely contained rage.

 The sunlight reflects on his tears and he smiles. Lan Wangji’s breath catches, but he’s not sure the other can see anyone, not anymore. He walks, backwards, closer to the cliff, his smile switching between a grimace, over and over again.

 “Wei Ying,” he calls, and the man tilts his head. Looks at him.

 And lets himself fall.

 In the cacophony of voices behind him, no one hears him scream.

 ***

 His fingers pluck the strings, filling the Silent Room with a melody of days long past. Whenever he plays it, he can’t help closing his eyes, seeing a boy playing among the lotus flowers, laughter ringing clear like flowing water. Outside, the last of the evening rain is falling, thin, shy, watering the flowers outside his window with one final touch, a delicate rainbow stretching over the clouds. Lan Wangji inhales deeply, the scents of nature, of his home. His fingers never falter, ending one melody and beginning the next, as he feels his companion slowly wake.

 He plays a song of the past, and hears Wei Wuxian’s breath hitch in recognition. A song a woman taught her son a long, long time ago, as he sat atop a donkey.

 “Mom, it’s too difficult!” The child complains, glaring at his dizi, and his mother only laughs.

 “One day, you’ll play it better than me, A-Ying!” She says, and her husband nods. She plays it again, bright and cheerful, and A-Ying pays close attention, tries to memorize it, and his mother has to stop playing to laugh at his focused face. They all laugh together, the whole world open before them.

 It’s the song that gave him away, but only barely. Lan Wangji recognized him when Wen Ning appeared, he recognized the poise of his shoulders, and above all, he recognized those eyes that recognized him in return. But he plays it like a message that he could never convey in words, like a promise, born anew.

 “Hey, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian asks, sounding both tired and playful and daring. Lan Wangji’s heart beats a little faster, because this is the man he once saw through Empathy, a man who mesmerized him but that he never got a chance to meet. “The song you were playing before... What’s it called?”

 “It doesn’t have a name yet,” he says, looking at the strings stilled under his fingertips. I don’t have a name for it yet.

 (What is it, the name of this feeling?)

 Wei Wuxian hums. Lan Wangji rises from his position, walks to his bed. This time, there’s no darkness coming out of the other. This time, the window is open, illuminating Wei Wuxian, and somehow, his eyes look just they did, a lifetime ago. If only with a little more light, a little more life.

 Lan Wangji offers him one hand, palm up.

 Do you trust me?

 Wei Wuxian gazes at it for a moment, before he places his own down, their palms touching. There’s no more empathy to flow between them, but somehow, the touch makes Lan Wangji burn.

 He pulls Wei Wuxian’s arm closer and starts checking his wounds. Wei Wuxian lets him but whines all the while, pouting and grumbling, and Lan Wangji fights the urge to smile.

 Nobody knows Wei Wuxian is there, and he’ll do what it takes to make things right this time. The cycle of life, always precise, always infallible, somehow brought him back, and Lan Wangji will give back what is rightfully his. Justice. Closure. His A-Yuan.

 (Lan Wangji’s Sizhui.)

 “Lan Zhan.”

 But when he says his name, why does he feel like giving everything that he is to him as well?

 I trust you.