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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 13 days

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octavinelle’s “happy endings”

***SPOILER WARNING: This post will go into detail about the dreams Azul, Jade, and Floyd experience in the book 7 part 10 update.***

OKAY, so there’s a debate in the TWST fandom about whether or not Azul and the twins consider each other “real” friends or just business partners. I’ve shared my own thoughts on this topic in the past (which you can read here!). After the most recent main story update, it’s now more clear to me than ever that they do treasure each other even if they don’t express that in traditional ways.

Let’s discuss them in order that they appear in book 7 part 10!! I know there’s some vagueness surrounding how much of the dream is Malleus actively controlling the scenarios (hence the limited and shallow scope of them) and how much the dreams actively pull from the innate desires of the dreamer, but for the sake of the argument let’s assume the latter is more influential in shaping and structure of the dreams.

First up, Floyd!

So Floyd is known as the “I do what I want when I feel like it” guy. He hates two main things: 1) being told what to do/having his freedom restrained and 2) being bored. To ensure that Floyd is happy, the dream consistently shifts to locations so he vanishes explore and experience new things.

What you might notice is that Azul and Jade aren’t around in Floyd’s dream. This doesn’t mean they don’t exist or that Floyd doesn’t know who they are though. When asked, Floyd replies that Azul is simply doing his own thing (focusing on his business ventures/schemes) and Jade is there supporting him, thus leaving Floyd to his own devices. The fact that Jade and Azul are still present in Floyd’s dream, just not in an immediate capacity, makes complete sense.

In the waking world, Floyd loves to stir up trouble with his brother and Azul. The thing is, Floyd also dislikes it when they tell him off, order him to do something he’s not in the mood for, or punish him for acting out. Yes, Jade for the most part enables Floyd to misbehave, and yes, Azul has largely learned by now that it’s best to sit back and let Floyd fuck off/finish throwing a tantrum rather than intervene. However, there are still times when they order Floyd around or get upset with him. For example, Azul scolds Floyd for damaging the vault where they keep the contracts in book 3 and for not selling the drinks he’s supposed to in book 5. We see numerous examples across vignettes as well: Jade forces Floyd to stand in line at a famous patisserie for Trey as penance for eating special fruits meant for a VIP client (Trey Labwear vignettes), Azul and Jade wring Floyd for his eel slime (Azul Ceremonial Robes vignettes), Azul orders Floyd to secure the rights to Sam’s Mystery Drink even though Floyd shows a clear disinterest in the task (Floyd Dorm Uniform vignettes), etc.

In spite of these grievances, Floyd doesn’t entirely despise Jade and Azul, nor would he be happier without them. They’re an important part of his life, hence why they still linger in the dream, just in the periphery where they can’t butt in with whatever Floyd wants to do. Jade and Azul aren’t present and compliant since that, too, would quickly bore Floyd. He loves those two goobers in part because they’re chaotic and unpredictable, not because they’re yes men to his every action. The dream might not be able to keep up with that demand; it only seems to operate in extremes rather than conjure enough nuance to keep Floyd stimulated and content. This is why all the places Floyd already visited bored him; he got showered with too many conveniences and eventually got fed up with it all.

If you need even more damning evidence, all previous dreams would manifest someone closely tied to the dreamer in an attempt to keep them in the dreamscape. Who does Floyd’s dream summon? AZUL AND JADE. If Floyd genuinely found them annoying or didn’t want them near, the surely the dream would spawn other people. BUT NO, it specifically spawned THOSE TWO in an effort to convince Floyd. It can be argued that they could very well be a source of hatred since Kalim and Neige showed up for Jamil and Vil respectively, but I genuinely think Floyd doesn’t feel that degree of negativity toward Jade and Azul; the kind of hatred that Jamil and Vil have for their respective counterparts has never been expressed by Floyd toward Jade or Azul.

Floyd reacts to dream!Jade and Azul in a manner that’s very different from the dreamers that came before him… with anger. And a LOT of anger too. He immediately clocks them as phonies and, he, fully waking, demands to know who the fakes are, because they certainly aren’t Jade and Azul. Floyd points out their faces and voices may resemble theirs, but they’re acting in a way that they never would (suggesting a “boring” way of living). That pisses him off to the point where he cuts the fakes down all by himself. Brutal violence aside, this tells us a lot about Floyd... as well as Malleus.

We see that Floyd has become lethargic and bored despite the dream's attempts to sate him, which just demonstrates that Malleus, whose magic has a hand in crafting these realities, has a shallow understanding of what makes people happy. (Edit: to be clear, Malleus having a “shallow understanding” of happiness is not a personal take; this is a direct statement made by Idia in-game and this is where I am pulling my phrasing from.) He thinks that removing all obstacles and challenge to what you want is what leads to a happy ending when, in truth, it clearly isn't the case for Floyd, who craves stimulation and change. While Malleus is motivated outright controlling the details of Floyd’s dream down to the wire, his autonomous magic has decided to get rid of any challenges Floyd may face in his pursuit of happiness. (I would continue about the Malleus portion, but since this post is about the Octatrio, I will instead direct you to this post, which shares many of my own thoughts ^^) I think that's why Floyd truly "woke" when he was faced with dream!Azul and Jade; a part of him recognizes how wrong it is for the two people he chose to spend his time with because they're so fun are now turning around and preaching complacency. It tells us just how well Floyd knows those two and values their... unique perspectives, shall we say?

Next, just Jade!

What's immediately fascinating about Jade's dream is that it's also underwater, despite Floyd and co. suspecting it would be on land/in the mountains. Floyd even changes from his merform to his human form prior to hopping to Jade's dream because he was under the impression that it would be on land. This ends up not being the case, although Malleus's magic does manifest the underwater equivalent of "mountains", which are volcanic vents at the bottom of the sea.

We see Jade happily exploring alongside a dream!Azul and dream!Floyd, who are both very different than the real ones. Dream!Azul has big, watery eyes and is much more of a coward and crybaby than the real Azul is. He also seems to be very dependent on Jade, who derives great joy from watching dream!Azul flail about while trying to attain his goals (in this case, access to a gold vein). This is in-character with what we already know about Jade; he amuses himself by watching others struggle--especially Azul, whom Jade frequently teases, such as tricking him to dance as a mummy in the first Halloween event and comparing Azul's greedy attitude to the positive traits of other dorm leaders. Jade also prefers to have control over the circumstances, so he likes it when people defer to his word or advice. So what better to hand him than an Azul that listens to his every word and also provides entertainment value in his tears?

As for dream!Floyd, he presents with a very goofy face and seems to lack his usual aggression and flippancy. Instead, he has a fixation on eating other sea life around him (crabs, shrimp, etc.) and happily goes along with Jade's mountain exploration. Like dream!Azul, dream!Floyd acts dependent on Jade to guide him and even acts cowardly in a fight. Now we can sort of get a glimpse of how Jade feels about Floyd too. Dream!Floyd's pliant and agreeable nature may come in part from the dream seeking to provide Jade with more free entertainment, but it could also be that Jade wants Floyd to share in his interests. But here Floyd is not gung-ho about mountains; instead, he acts very innocently, almost like a kid going along with whatever his parents decide to do for the day. It gives me the impression that Jade doesn't see Floyd as threatening but as someone cute and child-like. This idea is reinforced when, in an attempt to keep Jade dreaming, dream!Azul tells him that Floyd is cute and not some thug (like the real Floyd is). AND JADE 100% BUYS IT. He 100% believes that dresm!Floyd is the "true" one, that his Floyd and Azul would be useless without his support.

Idia makes an important comment at this point in book 7. He explains that Jade is having a hard time waking up because he believes in himself too strongly. That also means that Jade is distrustful of others; he is the only person he counts on. This reflected in how dream!Azul and dream!Floyd present. Both are heavily reliant on Jade to tell them what to do. In real life, too, Jade uses his competency to get into others' good graces (including the notoriously hard to please Vil; see his Dorm Uniform vignettes) so then he can reap the benefits that relationship offers. Jade is just that confident that he can succeed. Indeed, he often is the one coming close to tasting success when all others have failed. If we look back at Ghost Marriage, Jade was about to win over Eliza's heart before Floyd rudely interrupted and pointed out the flowers Jade was gifting were poisonous. Back to Idia's comment; because this is dream's Jade world, he's perhaps too invested in the dream that he has made, thus Jade is choosing to believe the dream that he conjured over the reality staring him in the face. It takes fistfighting with Floyd AND a jolt from Sebek's UM to properly shock some sense into Jade. He is otherwise too stuck in his own head to consider a truth that isn't one he has constructed for himself.

Still, I find it revealing that even though Jade is essentially stuck in his own headspace, dream!Floyd and dream!Azul are the only other people around. Floyd and Azul’s dreams feature way more NPCs, but Jade’s dream is pretty lonely. He could theoretically have several influential people to whisper in the ears of, but instead Jade’s desire is grounded… just being able to explore nature with his twin and Azul. They’re the ones he chooses to spend his time with. No one else. And Jade actively, fiercely defends this simple thing despite usually not being one to resort to violence right off the bat. The only major time in the main story where Jade does this is in book 2, when be noticed that he’s being tailed and does not appreciate the violations of his privacy. That’s exactly what this dream sequence is. It’s another violation of his privacy, and he detests that. You shouldn’t be here interrupting his happy, chill time with his friends business associates. It’s best for you to clear out.

I think it's also worthwhile to note that Floyd and Jade's waking sequences mirror one another. To quote myself from another post:

Something I find interesting is that the twins’ moments of waking mirror each other’s usual approaches to a task. Floyd usually foregoes a plan and prefers to use his fists to get the job done. However, he is slowly roused by reminiscing about his memories at NRC and the promise of being presented with a challenge. The final blow that shocks him awake is the presentation of a dream!Azul and dream!Jade who attempt to lure him deeper into the dream. Floyd doesn’t fall for it; in fact, he gets mad instead, and that fury, so biting and clear, snaps him awake. The opposite is true for Jade. He is someone who meticulously plans before acting, and would rather control the circumstances and use other roundabout methods before resorting to violence. But ironically, the master manipulator Jade is the one who falls for his own dream’s manipulations—all because he trusts himself above all else. He only wakes up because of a very strong physical force (ie Sebek’s UM) striking him. Prior to this, Jade was putting up a very good fight and the blows be was taking were not sufficient to wake fully him. So… Floyd, the brother who prefers brawns, woke up after reflecting and experiencing strong cognitive dissonance between his fake reality and bis true reality. Jade, the brother who prefers brains, woke up after being smacked the right amount. They woke up after experiencing an intense shock related to what is essentially the opposite of their preferred problem solving strategies.

And last but not least, Azul!

We’ve arrived at what I think is the juiciest part to dissect on the subject of the Octatrio’s friendship. To start off with, everyone suspects that Azul’s dream will be one in which he is a highly successful businessman with Mostro Lounge as a chain with even more locations stretching as far as the Coral Sea’s depths. That isn’t the case though! They quickly come to learn that Azul is the leader of Golden Trident, a reigning Coral Rush team. In this dream’s reality Azul was always popular and well-liked. Because he was never bullied, he never started up his shady business in middle school and thus never attracted the interest of the twins. Notably, Jade and Floyd still exist in the dream (as Azul remembers the Leeches from elementary school), but they never got close.

Before we get into the Octatrio’s dynamics, I want to say that the setup of this dream already tells us that a lot of Azul’s desire to become a successful business owner really stems from the longing to be accepted as he is. He uses his businesses and accumulation of contracts to reinforce and inform his self worth. Azul has formed a false belief and identity entering around the concept of success and likability equating to talent and material goods. This explains why he’s so fixated in his public image and being perceived as smart, confident, reliable, and trustworthy, and why he loses it so quickly when he’s denied his collection of golden contracts. Azul is insecure as heck about his shortcomings (athleticism being one of them) and the dream may be latching onto that, as well as his desire to be liked by his peers, to overcompensate.

A little thing I'd like to call attention to is that Jade refuses to divulge the private details of Azul's past in which he was bullied. This is significant because most other instances of the twins bringing up Azul's past usually results in them making fun of him for it and continuing to rag on him to the point where Azul becomes annoyed and tells them to quit it/reminds them that they swore to not talk about it. In those other instances though, the twins never tread that far; they'll at most comment about how different Azul looked or acted back then. They never went so far as to point out how badly he was bullied and here we see Jade respecting Azul's privacy by vocalizing that he refuses to release that information. And this JADE we're talking about, the one who has zero qualms with scoping out prospective new students for their personal info so Azul can later hold it against them (Jade Ceremonial Robes vignettes). Jade even blackmails older students to attain what he wants (Ortho Athletic Gear vignette). It says a lot that, when given the option to openly blab about what Azul experienced and have a laugh about it, Jade clams up.

sdjbaslidbasib OKAY I GOT SIDETRACKED, BACK TO AZUL'S DREAM. So he remembers the Leeches from elementary school, meaning that their existence was not entirely purged from his dream world. It's just a different timeline of events since he wasn't bullied in this reality. Azul is quite friendly to the twins and invites them to join his Coral Rush team at his mother's restaurant for a celebratory dinner. When we arrive at the restaurant, Azul and his team mates start to make fun of the land creatures for very similar things that he actually got bullied for in the waking world. (For example, being clumsy and uncoordinated in their swimming.) He's no longer the bullied, he is a bully. In a twisted way, Azul is getting validation of his own identity by looking down on others; this mirrors his behavior pre-OB in book 3, as he also mistreated his anemone'd peers back then. Tellingly, the only people he doesn't bully are... that's right, Jade and Floyd. Azul instead asks them to play Coral Rush with him. Again, this parallels what we saw in book 3: Azul is asking the twins to essentially "join" him in the midst of him abusing his power and lording over others. He still cares deeply about Jade and Floyd's approval specifically. Nowhere is this demonstrated so clearly as the method by which the twins finally get Azul to start questioning the construct of the dream. They start smashing up the restaurant but then grow bored and make as though they're going to casually leave. That triggers a memory from book 3 in which Azul is angrily shouting about how he'll always be alone. Alone. That's what Azul fears, being that lonely little octopus crying in his pot. That's why he's surrounded by adoring team members and fans in his dream. That's why he breaks down emotionally and OBs after the twins refuse to hand over their UMs to him in book 3. That's why he becomes distraught enough to shake the dream at the suggestion that Jade and Floyd, his two closest friends, are threatening to leave him. In book 4, Azul tries to be cool and play off this fear as the inevitable, that he's fully aware that the Leeches will discard him if he stops being entertaining to them, and that he's prepared for that when it happens. But... is that really the truth, given how Azul reacts in book 7? Everything leading up to this moment seems to imply Azul was just lying to himself, perhaps in an attempt to quell his own anxieties about the possibility. And given how Azul is shown to be calculated in cultivating a put-together public persona, I would not be shocked to learn that. It wouldn't make him seem strong or confident if he displayed weakness or fear over losing his right-hand men. I don't even know that he's purposefully telling a lie. It could very well be something Azul tells himself and believes in, but deep down he cannot truly know how emotional he would get if it ever happened.

As soon as Azul starts to wake, the mermobs of his Coral Rush team are the ones who come in and pull him deeper into the dream. Interesting to have just mobs doing this rather than a dream!Jade or dream!Floyd, given how important they seem to be to Azul. Maybe that's just how the surface level of the dream works? Like, it prioritizes lavishing Azul with general attention rather than the attention of two specific people since, in this dream's reality, Azul never bonded with Jade and Floyd (so those two wouldn't be as convincing?).

When Azul is being dragged into the darkness, Jade and Floyd don't go after him. Instead, they kinda just sit back and claim it's Azul's choice to dream more deeply so who are they to interfere? It takes some convincing from Ortho to convince the twins to pursue Azul into the next layer of the dream--but after the twins depart, Ortho wonders if Jade and Floyd being this cold is actually their way of showing trust. This sort of behavior is why I stress so often that we cannot take what the Octatrio do and say at face value all of the time. They have completely different ways of expressing that they care, and they don't always mean what they insist they mean. (KEEP THIS IN MIND BECAUSE IT COMES BACK INTO PLAY SOON.) In the second layer of Azul's dream, we revisit the events of book 3 had he been successful. He's setting that final class trip picture on fire and relishing in his total conquest of Night Raven College. Azul has ~500 golden contracts, the UMs of the other dorm leaders, and even has Crowley under his thumb--and this time, there's a dream!Jade and dream!Floyd to enjoy that victory with him. The rescue squad has to trick Azul into accidentally sanding his own contracts again, and it's that loss that finally breaks him. Again, we see how much of his own self-worth and value Azul places in that which he collects. It all ties back to that fear of not having anything of worth--not even allies to call his own--if he loses what he believes makes him desirable. At this point, Azul begins to sink into that final layer of his dream (the part where he confronts his OB self). This time, the twins lunge after him, calling out Azul's name and instructing him to grab onto them (+ Jade tells Floyd to help him pull). UM, HELLO????? The "take my hand" imagery, that symbol of trust and connection, from all the way at the start of the game is rearing its head here 😭 AND YOU KNOW WHAT'S EVEN CRAZIER???? The twins just... let go after that??? But not because they don't give a crap about Azul--no, it's because they care and believe that he can fend for himself, that he's no longer a weak person who cries and needs their support to stand on his own. Jade sends him off with a "good luck" and Floyd asks of Azul to not go to hell. Azul casually says the same right back to them before descending. And, just as the twins suspected, Azul is able to win against his inner demons and return to them, safe and sound. They were right about Azul, and Ortho was right about the Leeches. For as cold as Jade and Floyd seem to act, it's actually a front for how much they care.

In the segment where Azul faces his Phantom, he cites that the weight of everything he has taken from others has made it difficult to move. Taken literally, it of course could refer to the tentacles of his merform making it hard for him to swim. Metaphorically though? It can easily mean that he can't achieve personal growth if he's burdened by the weight of his sins (stolen talents, items, etc.). These things he stole may glitter, but they are not gold and he now realizes they aren't things he actually finds valuable. Azul wants to go out there and find things of "real value". I interpret this to mean intangible things that can't really have a price put to them, things that cannot be bought in stores... like friendship, the very thing he has with the twins but failed to call it that this entire time.

Everything in these dreams, and more specifically Azul's dream, demonstrates the Octatrio's mutual respect and trust in one another. Jade and Floyd acknowledge Azul as a strong individual, and Azul's subconscious reveals that he deeply values the twins and seeks their approval even when they've been removed from the picture.

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 28 days

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Long Snake Moan 5

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Loki

Summary: your boss gives you a task you’re not prepared for.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

He’s still there when you return to your desk. Just like the ring on your finger, Loki is immoveable. Your knuckle hurts from trying to yank it off.

You sit at your desk and try to ignore him as he stares from one of the acrylic chairs across from you. They’re rarely used, more so for the illusion of accommodation than anything.

His gaze casts a blazing heat over you. Your focus is fractured by his unyielding observation. He hums, a taunting tune, as you type and pretend to be alright. You’re not. You’re far from it.

That sinking doom is muddled in a sludge of disbelief. You just can’t accept this is real and yet hat pit in your chest assures you otherwise. How did he do this? Thor always says his brother is a trickster and you know well of Loki’s unsavoury past, as most New Yorkers would, and yet, this is nothing you could ever predict.

“What is it you mortals call it?” He speaks at last, jarring you from your troubled trance. “A honeymoon? Would you like to go away, darling? I know this place on the other side of the moon. Your moon, that is... it’s not too derelict and the sky is rather romantic--”

“Stop,” you splay your fingers over the keyboard. “I’m working.”

“Mm, yes, you’ve some time to go...” he checks the watch on his wrist. “What are we at? Less than two hours. I must admit, I am counting the minutes.”

You stand and take a deep breath, “I need a tea.”

You twist on your heel and march away. You doubt caffeine is going to help your nerves. It’s more that the flavour is familiar enough to offer some shred of comfort.

As you enter the breakroom, he’s already there. You hate that. How does he do that? You glance over your shoulder then turn back to the room.

“What is it you prefer?” He peruses the selection of pods. “Mm, pumpkin spice?” He takes a pod and sniffs it, “smells less than appetizing.”

“I can do it myself,” you approach him and reach for the box of oolong pods. He catches your hand and runs his thumb decisively over the large emerald. You wince as he keeps hold of you.

“Darling, I am your husband. Allow me to show you the advantage of this union--”

“I know why you did it. You get to stay. I never wanted you gone, I only delivered the message. You don’t have to do this. If you want to stay, I’ll lie but this is... it isn’t necessary.” You tug but cannot free yourself of his snare.

“While that may suffice, I don’t have much faith in your skills of deception. I have considered all facets of this plan and we must prove this union to be genuine, thus we may as well commit--”

“Loki,” you hiss and his brow arches. “Prince, whatever, this is strange. In your research did you not figure out that ‘mortals’ as you call us get to know each other first?”

“Not always. Not for the majority of your history. There are some rather entertaining scenes along the way. Some I had the pleasure of witnessing myself,” he snickers. “An arranged marriage is not unheard of, even presently in some regions. I could not wait to charm you but I can more than make up for that.”

“Charm me? You couldn’t even ask me? Talk to me?”

“We are speaking now. We are working through our first marital hurdle. Together,” his grin assures you that he is being less than authentic. This is a game to him. “Allow me to prepare your tea, wife. You are hard at work.”

You scrunch up your nose in frustration and he lets you go as you pull away, “why me??”

His lashes flick up and down as his lips curve deeper, “when you say my name, I imagine you moaning it, and it doesn’t sound so bad.”

You gurgle. Your stomach knots and tugs. Something inside you plucks. You step back and hug yourself, as if hiding from him.

“Uh, I...” you look away and shake your head. “You’re right. I’m working so I would appreciate the tea. Thank you. Just milk, if you don’t mind. Please. Er.” You wobble around on your heels. The slither of his voice sticks in your ears and you smell smoke. What is happening?

You go back to your desk and sit heavily. You stare at the screen as it hazes to a medley of colours. The font obscures in your distant vision and fold your hands on the edge of your desk.

This is very strange. This is hard to swallow. It’s not what you had planned for today. Or really ever. Not just marrying Loki but anyone. You’re perfectly happy alone. You’ve built a small life for yourself. It’s not that bad. You like the routine and the simplicity and now he’s gone and messed it all up.

“Darling,” he purrs as he appears with your tea, jarring you from your gloom.

You sit back and bite down on your tongue. He sets the cup on your coaster, coming close enough that you roll back in your chair. As he stands straight, you rest your elbows on the armrests.

“You don’t have to pretend to be nice now. You’ve already messed it all up.”

He laughs again. You hate that. He thinks everything is so funny. This is your life.

“Messed what up, exactly? I know a Midgardian’s life cycle, I’ve lived through many and so by my estimate, you are overdue for marriage--”

“That isn’t-- oh my god,” you drag your hands down your face. You drop them into your lap and look at him. “When I told you, you were angry. You looked at me like you hated me. So, how do you think this is going to work?”

“Hate is powerful but there are things that can overwhelm it,” he shrugs. “I do enjoy the way your legs look when you walk in those shoes and your skirt compliments you well. Now, I know you do not hate me, I can read others rather well. You are intimidated yes, but fear can also make one...how should I put this, sexually aroused?”

“Oh god. Please,” you wheel back to your desk and shield one side of your face with your hand. “That’s not—Like I said, we can pretend.”

“This marriage is very much real, darling,” he intones.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes, it is--”

“Lokiiiiii,” you growl and pop your head up to snarl at him.

He smirks and tilts his head, “ooh, say it again.”

“Stop, please.”

He chortles and his eyes flare. You don’t like the way they glint, “darling, your dear husband brewed you a tea, please, do not let it grow cold.”

You sigh and look down at the cup. You raise it and blow the steam away. You sip. It’s rather nice, richer than you would expect. In fact, it’s so good you can’t stop drinking. You’ve had that oolong a dozen times over and you’ve told Tony to get a different brand as it is far from your favourite, but today, it is like honey.

You wipe your lips at the dribble left behind and set down the cup. Loki resumes his seat by the wall, “hmm, just over an hour to go, darling.”

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #series #long snake moan #drabble #au #mcu #marvel #thor #avengers

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doctorbitchcrxft · 2 months

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Born Under a Bad Sign | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader (Eventual ? ;) )

Warnings: mentions of religious trauma, mentions of smut, dean’s self-esteem is rly bad :(, canon violence, canon gore

Word Count: 6130

Mobile Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Playlist

You and Sam had always been close friends, but you became even more like siblings after your last hunt. He seemed to understand you on a deeper level after you described your battle with religion to him. You understood him and his praying practices, and you were happy he was able to find some peace through it. You’d always bonded before over cult classic movies and your shared love of learning, but you were grateful to get to know him more than just on the surface level.

Your relationship with Dean was changing, too. You knew it scared him a bit; it scared you, too. But you were grateful that you had him in your life. You’d never cared for someone before the way you cared about him. However, the two of you left that part unspoken and let your bodies speak for themselves.

Dean visited your motel room more and more frequently after Sam fell asleep at night. You knew Sam had some clue as to what was going on between you and his brother, but he hadn’t prodded into your relationship much. For that, you were thankful.

Most of the time, Dean wasn’t even coming to your room for sex. He genuinely just wanted to be close to you or talk to you. The simple intimacy of sitting on the floor and playing a few rounds of Rummy or lying in bed and holding each other close while you talked about the most mundane things was almost better than sex for you. Your life was revolving less around hunting and more around Dean, and you weren’t quite sure how to feel about that.

That was, at least, until Sam went missing.

When Dean noticed Sam was gone, he was leaving your room after staying the night with you. He burst back into the room, saying, “(Y/N), get dressed, Sam’s gone.”

“What?” You jumped up, pulling jeans on. “Whaddaya mean ‘gone’?”

“I mean he’s gone, (Y/N). He’s gone,” he responded gruffly, raking a hand through his hair.

“Wait, are you sure he didn’t just go out for coffee or something?” you questioned, trying to calm him down.

“No, dude, it’s ten A.M.,” he replied.

“Okay, well let’s call him,” you said. You pressed your phone to your ear only to find it went straight to voicemail.

“Dammit!” Dean could tell by the look on your face what happened.

*** “Dean, you really need to sleep,” you urged. His eyes had bags hanging under them and his hair was a mess from the number of times he’d run his hand over it. You couldn’t get him to sleep for more than a few hours the previous night when his body finally gave out.

You’d spent three days thus far looking for Sam and driving all over the country looking for him. You tried tracking his phone, but you had no luck. In fact, the reason why was because he’d left his phone in the Impala. Bobby and Ellen hadn’t seen or heard from him, either.

“(Y/N), I’m fine, dammit,” Dean responded harshly.

“I’m not gonna put up with you being a dick just because you’re stressed,” you shot back. “I’m worried about Sam, too. But you’re no good to him so sleep-deprived that you can’t tell your right from your left. I’m gonna start drugging you if you don’t go to bed voluntarily.”

He blinked at you, seeming curious about the last part of your statement.

“I’m kidding,” you said, pausing momentarily. “Maybe.”

He thought about your words for a minute. “Fine,” he murmured.

“Sorry? What was that?” you asked, half-mockingly.

“You heard me,” he grumbled back.

You conceded, giggling a little.

“Don’t let me sleep any more than five hours,” he told you as you pushed him toward the bed in your motel room.

“I’m not.” You were lying, though, and you had no doubt Dean picked up on that.

“(Y/N)—” he warned.

“Okay, okay. Fine. Just go to bed, asshole,” you told him, finally shoving him back on the bed.

About twenty minutes later, you’d readied for bed and headed over to Dean’s sleeping form. You sat on the bed across from him, and you brushed your hand over his hair. He breathed out contentedly, subconsciously relaxing under your touch. You smiled softly to yourself and crawled into bed next to him. You did your best not to disturb him while you got comfortable.

Fully settled, you took in his sculpted features. There were very few times you had seen Dean at peace even in his sleep, and this was not one of those times. You knew his sleep was necessary, but it was clear by the tension in his face that it was not going to be the most rested sleep in the world for him.

Even in the midst of this awful situation, there was a nagging want in your heart for Dean. You knew neither of you were in a position for a real relationship, but you would be lying if you said you didn’t want one. In fact, you knew you were beginning to fall hopelessly in love with him.

‘Fuck. I do love him,’ you thought. ‘Damnit, I am so fucked.’

“Hey, stop,” Dean muttered. “Stop!” he said, voice stronger this time.

“Dean?” you asked quietly, sitting up on your elbow.

“Fuck, stop it!” Dean cried. “Leave him alone!”

‘Oh, god, he’s gotta be dreaming about Sam,’ you thought. You began shaking him to try and wake him up.

“No, no!” he screamed, writhing under you.

“Dean!” You shook him harder.

He lurched up, grabbing your wrist and flipping you on your back. He pinned your wrist above your head.

You and Dean breathed heavily in each other’s faces, yours and Dean’s adrenaline pumping. When he realized what he was doing, he immediately let go of you.

“Oh, god, I’m sorry—” Dean began.

“Dean, it’s okay,” you told him.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked, gently grabbing your hands to begin to inspect your wrists for injuries.

You let him hold your hands, assuring him, “No, no! I’m okay, really. See?”

He was silent while he caught his breath, unable to look at you. You put your hand on his cheek and guided his face up gently to make him look at you. “Dean. I’m fine. I’m not upset.”

You could see tears forming in his eyes which was likely the reason he looked away. He pulled away from you and once looked down once more. You grabbed his hand and squeezed tightly to reassure him. “I know you’re upset, but you gotta go back to bed, okay? We’re no good to Sam when we’re tired zombies,” you attempted to joke.

He said nothing, but he did lay back down with you. He turned in your hold to let you wrap your arms around his stomach and run your hands up his bare chest. You pressed kisses to the back of his shoulders, and his breathing evened out.

“I don’t deserve you,” he murmured so quietly you almost didn’t hear it.

It caught your attention, and you pulled his shoulder to get him to turn to you. He allowed you to roll him onto his back, and you propped yourself up on your elbow to look down at him. “Don’t ever let me hear you say that again,” you chastised as gently as you possibly could. You knew aggravation was seeping through your tone, though not at him. “I know you won’t believe me if I tell you, but you do.”

“(Y/N)—”

“No. Don’t. You are—” you cut yourself off, consistently shocked by how lowly Dean thought of himself. “I mean, I care about you. A lot. You know that.”

He nodded.

“Then why can’t you believe you’re deserving of me? I’m here, aren’t I?” you asked rhetorically. “That’s not a mistake. If anything, I feel undeserving of you.”

“What?” Dean scoffed. “Why?”

“See? See how ridiculous that sounds?”

Dean eyed you for a moment. “I see what you did there.”

You smiled, but soon returned to seriousness. “Seriously. I care about you. A lot. For… a number of reasons. I can’t believe you think you don’t deserve me. I mean, you’re Dean fucking Winchester. You— you’re so strong. You’re really just… impressive as a human being. You’re smart, and funny, and— Jesus Christ— so fucking handsome. And— hmm!”

Dean cut you off by pulling you down to him and kissing you roughly. This kiss was different than others you’d shared before. It was passionate and kind all at once, and it was clear how hungry you were for each other. When you broke the kiss, the two of you pecked each other one final time before simply resting your foreheads together.

“I was talking,” you said, breathless.

He chuckled; one that rumbled deep in his chest. “Needed to kiss you, though.”

“Oh, shut up, you just didn’t wanna listen to me talk about you anymore,” you replied playfully.

“Oh, no, I was definitely enjoying that,” he snarked.

“Sure, Jan,” you laughed. You leaned down to kiss him once more before settling back down against him.

A few minutes passed before Dean found the courage to speak again. “Hey, can you, um—”

“Spit it out, Dean, I’m tired,” you said sleepily, eyes still closed.

“Just— Nevermind.”

“No, what?” you asked, head perking up. “C’mon, what?”

“Can you… spoon me again?”

You smiled, nodding excitedly. “That’s so cute.”

“Aw, shut up,” he muttered, rolling away from you.

“I’m serious!” you said, peppering kisses along his shoulders. “I like that you let me hold you. Most guys wouldn’t.”

“Yeah, whatever,” he murmured, stroking your arm that was wrapped around his chest with his thumb.

You giggled, kissing his shoulder again. “Goodnight, Dean.”

“G’night, sweetheart.”

***

You spent the next several days searching for Sam. A week had passed with no word from him.

You leaned against the car next to a fidgeting Dean, hands in your pockets and staring at the ground.

“Ellen, it's me again. Any chance you've heard from him?” Dean asked into his phone. “I swear, it's like looking for my dad all over again. I'm losing my mind here… No, I've called him a thousand times, there's nothing but voicemail. I don't know where he went, or why. Sam's just gone.” His phone beeped. “Hang on,” he told Ellen.

You could see “Sam’s cell” appearing on the screen of Dean’s phone. Your posture straightened as Dean answered the phone. “Sammy? Where the hell are you? Are you okay?... Hey, hey, hey! Calm down. Where are you? Alright, don't move, I'm on my way.”

***

You burst through the door of the room Sam told Dean he was in to find Sam sitting completely motionless, staring blankly ahead.

“Sam? Hey,” Dean said, moving over to him.

“Hey, guys,” he said numbly.

You kneeled down in front of him, and Dean took the opposite side. “Are you bleeding?” you asked him, noting the blood covering his abdomen and knuckles.

Sam couldn’t look at you. “I tried to wash it off.”

Dean mumbled, “Oh, my god,” upon noticing his younger brother’s shirt.

“I don't think it's my blood,” Sam murmured.

“Whose is it?” Dean questioned.

“I don’t know.”

“Sam, what happened?” you questioned gently.

He looked up at you. “I— I don’t remember anything.”

***

You found out Sam had checked into that motel a few days ago, had been smoking, stealing liquor from gas stations, and discovered a bloody knife in the back of a car he’d stolen. Your mind reeled at why Sam could’ve possibly done this. He was not this kind of person, and yet, you were beginning to get a little afraid of him. Is this what the yellow-eyed demon was going to turn him into?

Sam seemed more shaken than you or Dean did, and your heart ached for the poor guy. You couldn’t imagine not understanding what was happening to your own mind and body. He said he couldn’t remember anything beyond a diner you stopped at in West Texas; over a week ago and right before he went missing.

Night fell as Dean drove down the highway the gas station attendant had pointed you toward, saying Sam drove off this way.

“What's going on with you, Sam? Hm? 'Cause smoking, throwing bottles at people, I mean, that sounds more like me than you,” Dean quipped.

You weren’t sure what was more shocking; Sam smoking menthols like a chimney and chucking a bottle of liquor at a gas station attendant, or the fact that he couldn’t remember the last week.

Suddenly, the younger brother perked up. “Dean, wait, right here. Turn down that road.”

“What?”

“I don't know how I know, I just do.”

Dean complied and turned down a back road onto a private property. Surrounding the house were emergency flood lights and security cameras capturing every possible angle of the home.

“Whoever lives here, I'd say they don't like surprises,” Sam noted as the three of you approached the house. You were surprised the flood lights hadn’t come on yet.

“Should we knock?” Dean questioned.

“Yeah, I guess,” Sam said.

You poked your head around the corner of the house while the boys talked. You quirked your head in confusion at the sight of broken glass covering the porch beneath a shattered window. “Hey guys?”

They came over to you, and you waved your flashlight around the window.

“I'm surprised the cops didn't show. Place like this you'd think it'd have an alarm,” Dean commented.

Sam found a disabled alarm on the wall. “Yeah, you would.”

“What the fuck, man,” you muttered. You were the first to crawl into the house through the shattered window. Glass crunched beneath your boots when they hit the floor, and you waved your flashlight around the room to find turned over chairs, knocked over lamps, and broken picture frames. You shot a concerned look back at the boys before you followed the trail of displaced items to a back office. You nearly tripped over a body lying on the floor in the dark. You yelped in surprise, and Dean caught your arm before you could fall.

“Hit the lights,” he told his brother. You could hear the apprehension in his voice.

When the lights came on, you knelt next to the body. The middle-aged man was slumped on the floor on his side, and you turned him over to reveal his deeply cut throat. You put a hand over your mouth, and shot a worried glance at Dean. Dean’s eyes were on the body, widened in horror.

“I did this,” Sam breathed out.

“We don’t know that,” Dean immediately responded.

“What else do you need?” Sam scoffed. “I mean, how else do you explain the car, the knife, the blood—”

You got up from the floor. “Sam, I don’t know, man, but this just doesn’t seem—” You ran a hand through your hair and turned away from him.

“Look, even if you did do this I'm sure you had a reason, you know; self-defense, uh, he was, he was a bad son of a bitch, something!” Dean was still crouched on the floor, and he patted the body down. “He doesn't have any ID.”

“I need your lockpick,” Sam said.

You and Dean eyed him strangely. “What?”

“I need your lockpick,” he repeated. He took it and opened a double door closet inside the room. It revealed another room lined wall to wall in newspaper clippings, maps, and weapons.

“Holy shit,” you murmured.

“Either this guy's a Unabomber—” Dean began.

Sam cut him off. “Or a hunter. I think I killed a hunter.”

You looked up at a security camera in the corner of the room. “Let’s find out.” Dean had taken the SD card out of the security camera and handed it over to you. You cracked the password on the man’s computer and opened the file attached to the SD card. You went back in the footage to the day before Sam checked into the motel room, and your hand flew to your mouth.

Sam was dragging the struggling man behind the desk and propped him up against himself before slitting his throat.

Dean inhaled sharply. “How do you erase this? Huh?” he questioned you.

“Already on it,” you said.

“I killed him, Dean. I just broke in and killed him,” Sam murmured.

“Listen to me. Whoever this guy is, he's a hunter. Which means that other hunters are going to come looking for his killer, which means we've got to cover our tracks, okay?” Dean said frantically.

Sam picked something up off the desk next to you while you continued working on the computer. “His name was Steve Wandell. This is a letter from his daughter.”

Suddenly, Dean grabbed the computer off the desk in front of you, slamming it to the ground beside you, making you jump. He stomped it to bits for good measure, breathing raggedly.

“Start wipin’ down your prints,” he said, handing you and Sam rags. “C’mon, let’s go.”

You and Sam were still too in shock to process what was going on. It dawned on you then that you may actually have to kill Sam. You couldn’t live with yourself if it came to that.

***

You and the brothers returned to Sam’s motel room to regroup, get some sleep, and take off before anyone could discover what Sam had done. Your mind was reeling with the possibility of having to put Dean’s brother down. You would never forgive yourself, and you knew Dean wouldn’t either.

“Alright, we get a couple hours sleep and then we put this place in our rearview mirror,” Dean asserted.

Sam remained motionless near the door.

“Look, I know this is bad, okay? You gotta snap out of it. Sam, say something!” Dean pleaded.

The younger brother’s shoulders were slumped, and his sad eyes turned up to Dean. “Just get some sleep and leave in the morning? Murder, Dean. That's what I did.”

Dean seemed to search for words for a moment. “Maybe.”

Sam scoffed.

“Okay? Hey, we don't know... shapeshifter!”

“Oh, come on. You know it wasn't, you saw the tape. There was no eye flare, no distortion—”

Dean turned away from Sam. “Yeah, but it wasn't you! Alright? I mean, yeah, it might have been you, but it wasn't you.”

Sam sat down on the bed. “Well, I think it was. I think maybe more than you know.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Dean grunted.

“For the last few weeks I've been having... I've been having these feelings.”

“What feelings?” you questioned, crouching to the ground in front of him while Dean continued to fume.

“Rage. Hate. And I can't stop it.” Sam couldn’t lift his gaze to you. “It just gets worse. Day by day, it gets worse.”

“Why didn’t you say anything before?” you asked as gently as you could.

“I didn't want to scare you.”

“Well, bang-up job on that,” Dean quipped.

“Dean, the yellow-eyed demon, you know he has plans for me. And we both know that he's turned other children into killers before, too.”

The older brother turned around, eyes blazing. “No one can control you but you.

“It sure doesn't seem like that, Dean, it feels like no matter what I do, slowly but surely I'm, I'm just becoming—” he trailed off, swallowing down his emotion.

“What?”

“Who I'm meant to be. I mean, you said it once yourself. I gotta face up to who I am,” Sam continued.

Dean threw his arms up. “I didn’t mean this!”

The brunet’s eyes got teary. “But it's still true. You know that. Dad knew that too. That's why he told you, if it ever came to this…”

“Sam, stop it,” you begged.

“You promised me, (Y/N),” Sam said sadly. “You promised.”

Dean crossed the room to you in a flash. “No. Listen to me. We're gonna figure this out. Okay? I mean, there's gotta be a way, right?”

“Yeah, there is.” Sam took a handgun from the duffel bag resting on the bed beside him and shoved it into your hand. “I don't wanna hurt anyone else. I don't wanna hurt you two.”

You jumped back from Sam, and for the first time ever, holding a gun felt uncomfortable and foreign to you.

“You won't,” Dean argued. “Whatever this is, you can fight it.”

“No. I can't. Not forever. (Y/N), you gotta do it.” Tears pooled in Sam’s eyes. He stared at you, pleading evident within his gaze.

You looked down at the gun and back at Sam.

“(Y/N), I swear, if you do this—”

“I know, Dean!” You looked up at Sam shakily. “I don’t wanna do this.”

Sam nodded. “I know.”

You looked between a torn Dean and resigned Sam. You shook your head and dropped the gun. “I can’t.”

Dean sighed in relief, and Sam stood. You shouldered past him toward the door of the room to get some air.

“That’s too bad,” you heard Sam say behind you, his voice suddenly sending a chill down your spine. The next thing you heard was Dean grunting, and you wheeled around to see him drop to the floor. Sam loomed over you next, and you tried your best to fight him off. However, you knew it was pointless. The pistol he’d given you whipped across your face powerfully, and the world went black.

***

The next time you came to, an incessant knocking was filling your ears. You heard Dean groaning a few feet away from you, and you suddenly remembered what happened.

The motel manager opened the door. “Hey. It's past your checkout.”

“What?” Dean questioned groggily.

“It's past checkout, and I've got a couple here needs your room.” The manager gestured to an embarrassed businessman with a hooker standing behind him.

Dean grumbled, “Yeah, I'll bet they do. What time is it?”

“Twelve-thirty.”

“That guy who was with us, have you seen him?”

“Yeah, he left before dawn in your car, and you should have gone with him, because now I'm gonna have to charge you extra.”

“Oh, son of a…” Dean muttered.

“It's just policy, sir.”

“We need to use your computer,” you spoke up.

The manager folded his arms. “Now, why would I let you use my computer?” *** The manager counted the stack of cash you and Dean scrounged up to pay him off for letting you two use his computer.

Your mind raced as Dean tracked his brother down on the phone with their cellular provider. What was wrong with Sam? Was this really who he was now? Who could he have possibly been going to see and why? Could he have killed another hunter? Could you have stopped it if you just pulled the trigger? Did you do the right thing?

Dean’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts. “(Y/N), we gotta go. Duluth, Minnesota.”

***

You and Dean drove hours in silence. Dean surprisingly hadn’t put on one of his many cassette tapes to fill the silence. Your heart in your throat and breathing labored, you were finally brave enough to offer your hand to him. You couldn’t look at him, afraid he’d maybe be angry with you or wouldn’t need your comfort, but you kept your hand on the seat between you all the same. Finally, he joined his with yours and squeezed tightly. Neither of you said a word or looked at each other, but you kept each other grounded in your completely unfathomable situation.

When you arrived at the bar you’d tracked Sam to in Duluth, you and Dean grabbed flasks of holy water from the trunk and your handguns from Dean’s glovebox; although you knew you couldn’t use the latter on Sam.

You could hear Sam talking, but you couldn’t quite tell what he was saying or who he was talking to through the door of the bar. On Dean’s count of three, the two of you burst through the door with your guns ready.

“Sam!” Dean yelled.

You noticed the person he’d been talking to was a tied-up and gagged Jo, and Sam took a knife from above her on the post she was tied to and held it to her throat. His calm expression shifted to one of desperate panic, and you suddenly realized what was happening.

“I begged you to stop me, Dean,” Sam cried.

“Put the knife down, dammit,” Dean ordered.

“I told you I can't fight it! My head feels like it's on fire, all right?! Dean. Kill me, or I'm going to kill her. Please. You'd be doing me a favor! Shoot me,” Sam ordered. He turned to you and Dean, arms spread. “Shoot me, (Y/N)! Please!”

You glanced at Jo out of the corner of your eye. “Sam, come on, dude!”

Dean turned away, lowering his gun.

“What’s wrong with you?” Sam spat. “Are you seriously gonna let Jo die?” Sam went to approach his brother, but Dean turned suddenly and flicked holy water at his brother from his flask. The water hissed and steamed when it made contact with Sam’s skin.

“You son of a bitch!” you screamed, rushing at Sam. Sam’s eyes turned black and he threw you off him and into a table behind you. You cried out as your back made contact with the table and chairs, and you collapsed to the floor in a heap. You raised your head to see Sam bursting through a window and Dean cutting Jo free. You got back to your feet painfully and grabbed your gun, sprinting after Sam.

“(Y/N)!” you heard Dean call as you leapt out of the window. He soon caught up to you as you ran down the dock toward a warehouse. You knew that was where Sam— well, the demon— had gone given the swinging of its doors. You and Dean flanked either side of the door before bursting through the warehouse, pressed back to back and scanning the room. You then crouched next to him when you heard wood creak a few yards away.

“So who are you?” Dean called.

“I got lots of names,” Sam replied. His voice was quite far off.

“You've been in Sam since he disappeared, haven't you?” you spat.

“You shoulda seen your face when you thought he murdered that guy. Pathetic,” the demon called back.

“Why didn't you kill us? You had a dozen chances,” Dean replied. He motioned for you to follow him behind a tall stack of boxes to find better cover.

“Nah, that would have been too easy. Where's the fun in that? You see, this was a test. Wanted to see if I could push you or your girlfriend far enough to waste Sam. Should've known you two wouldn't have the sack. Anyway. Fun's over now,” Sam bitterly informed you.

“Well, I hope you got your kicks. 'Cause you're gonna pay hell for this, I'm gonna make sure of that,” Dean growled.

“How? You can't hurt me. Not without hurting your little brother.”

Dean put his gun away, opting for the holy water flask in his jacket. You kept your gun drawn.

“See, I think you're gonna die, Dean. You and every other hunter I can find. One look at Sam's dewey, sensitive eyes? They'll let me right in their door,” the demon laughed. You heard the back door of the warehouse open, and you and Dean quickly followed. When you reached the dock, you barely had time to register Sam standing several feet away with a gun drawn before two shots fired off; one hitting Dean and the other grazing your arm. You tumbled to the dock below from the impact, and you were knocked out cold yet again from the eight-foot drop.

***

You could just barely make out the conversation happening around you as you began to come-to from the second time you’d been knocked out by Sam. You were lying on something hard with something soft under your head, but you couldn’t quite open your eyes to figure out what was going on.

“Don't be a baby!” you heard Jo say.

“God!” Dean groaned.

You wanted to move to help him, but you still couldn’t open your eyes or move.

“Almost. Alright, got it. Got it,” Jo announced.

You heard glass clinking before Dean grunted, “God, you’re a butcher. Should’ve let (Y/N) patch me up when she comes-back-to.”

Jo scoffed. “You're welcome.”

“Alright, are we done?”

“Would you give me two minutes to patch you up? You can't help Sam if you're bleeding to death.”

“You should be payin’ more attention to (Y/N). She’s the one out cold with a bleeding head.”

‘Oh. My head’s bleeding?’ you thought. Suddenly, you could feel the blood trickling down your face. You slowly began to recognize the dim light coming from the room around you, and realized you were probably back in the bar you’d found Jo and Sam in.

“So, how did you know? That he was possessed?” Jo asked Dean.

“Uh, ah, I didn't, I just knew that it couldn't have been him.”

Jo paused for a moment, seeming hesitant to speak again. “Hey, Dean.”

“Yeah?”

“I know demons lie, but... do they ever tell the truth, too?”

“Uh, um, yeah, sometimes, I guess. Especially if they know it'll mess with your head.” He paused as you began to writhe around on the floor. “Why do you ask?”

“Nothing. Doesn't matter. So do you have any idea where he's headed to next?”

You groaned, catching Dean’s attention. “Sweetheart?”

Your heart fluttered at the name despite the throbbing in your head, arm, and back. You moaned again, shifting uncomfortably.

When you opened your eyes, Dean was above you. “You there? You okay?"

“Dee,” you smiled groggily.

“Yeah, sweetheart, I’m here.” He slipped a hand under your shoulders and the other under your knees. “C’mon, we gotta go find Sammy.”

“Okay,” you said, still not fully aware of what was going on.

“Wait, Dean, let me—” Jo tried.

“No, I got her,” he responded. He began to carry you toward the door.

“Where we goin’, then?” Jo asked.

“You're not coming,” he replied simply.

Jo’s voice rose. “The hell I'm not. I'm a part of this now.”

“I can't say it more plain than this. You try to follow us, and I'll tie you right back to that post and leave you here. This is our fight,” he said firmly. “I'm not getting your blood on my hands. That's just how it's gonna be.”

A few moments of silence passed, and Dean began walking again. “I’ll call you later, okay?”

In your heart, you knew he wouldn’t. You’d call Jo and thank her for helping you and Dean.

You finally had full cognitive function back when Dean got you to the car. He gingerly reached out to your still bleeding head wound. He sucked in air through his teeth. “I’m gonna patch you up, okay?”

You nodded.

He immediately set to work. “Hey, uh—” he paused, seeming to search for what he needed to say, “—what was that… concussion-check-thing you did on me? Back when we dealt with that freaky ass scarecrow?”

You grinned at the memory. “I don’t think you need to check, Dean, I definitely have a concussion,” you said.

“I still wanna see how bad it is,” he told you.

“It’s not awful,” you said. “But I’ll be down for the count for a bit.”

You were suddenly wide awake when you felt hydrogen peroxide hitting your arm where Sam’s bullet grazed you.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured.

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yeah, I’m not,” you admitted.

Dean finished patching up the wound on your head, a comfortable silence settling between you. “Thanks for not shooting my brother,” he mumbled.

You snorted. “Yeah, of course.”

He paused again. “Why didn’t you?”

You considered before responding truthfully. “Couldn’t live with myself if I did. Couldn’t live with myself if you hated me.”

He searched your eyes before slowly leaning in to kiss you. You leaned in, too, stretching your neck up to meet his lips. His kiss was gentle and conveyed everything the two of you couldn’t say verbally.

“Alright, c’mon, we gotta go get Sam,” Dean said. “He’s goin’ to Bobby’s.” ***

“Stay here,” Dean told you. He left the windows rolled down on the Impala to keep some air moving through it while he went into Bobby’s house to confront Sam.

You went to protest, but your aching limbs proved to you that you would be completely useless.

Dean chuckled at you as you wordlessly settled back into your chair. “Atta girl.”

Minutes felt like hours as you waited for Dean to emerge from the house. You knew Bobby was smart enough to figure out Sam was possessed and had likely ensnared him in a Devil’s Trap. Still, that didn’t stop you from worrying about your boys.

A cool breeze carried Dean’s scream of agony through the car, and you immediately jumped to your feet despite the protesting in your back and head. Your vision nearly whited out when you stood up, and the light of day was too bright for you. Still, you were fueled by the thought of Dean being hurt and stumbled your way into Bobby’s house. When you finally made it inside, Dean and Sam were lying on the floor, each writhing in pain, and Bobby was holding a hot poker.

“I thought I told you to stay in the car, (Y/N),” Dean groaned.

“I thought—” you cut yourself off. “Nevermind.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, kid, but you look like hell,” Bobby told you.

You laughed. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

Bobby then made you lie down on his couch and you threw your arm over your eyes to block out the light. You heard Sam and Dean patching each other up, and Bobby asked a question that caught your attention. “You kids ever hear of a hunter named Steve Wandell?”

“Why do you ask?” Dean replied.

“Just heard from a friend. Wandell's dead. Murdered in his own house. You wouldn't know anything about that.” You could tell what Bobby was meaning from his tone.

“No, sir, never heard of the guy,” Dean said before Sam could.

“Good,” Bobby stated firmly. “Keep it that way. Wandell's buddies are looking for someone or something to string up, and they're not going to slow down to listen to reason. You understand what I'm saying?”

“We better hit the road,” Dean said. “We should get (Y/N) one of those fancy sleep mask things for her to sleep in the car.”

“How ‘bout just a pair of sunglasses, Dean,” you deadpanned. You could hear Sam chuckling as footsteps approached; you could tell they belonged to the older brother.

“Here. Take these.” You weren’t sure what Bobby was referring to given you refused to take your hand off your face for even a second.

“What are they?” Sam questioned.

“Charms. They'll fend off possession. That demon's still out there. This'll stop it from getting back up in ya.”

“That sounds vaguely dirty, but uh, thanks.” Dean’s chest rumbled against you as he spoke, and you relaxed into his hold.

“You're welcome. You kids be careful now. And (Y/N), take care of yourself.”

You made a thumbs-up gesture in Bobby’s general direction without uncovering your eyes, earning a chuckle from all three men.

***

You slept most of the drive in the backseat. You were in and out of consciousness and couldn’t quite string together the conversations Sam and Dean were having. However, you paid close attention to their latest interaction.

“I was awake for some of it, Dean,” said Sam. “I watched myself kill Wandell with my own two hands; I saw the light go out in his eyes.”

“That must have been awful,” the older brother replied.

“That's not my point. I almost carved up Jo too. But no matter what I did, you wouldn't shoot. Neither would she,” Sam noted.

“It was the right move, Sam. It wasn't you,” Dean argued.

“Yeah, this time. What about next time?”

“Sam, when Dad told me... that I might have to kill you, it was only if I couldn't save you. Now, if it's the last thing I do, I'm gonna save you.”

You loved how much Dean cared about his little brother.

Dean laughed softly after a moment.

“What?” Sam asked.

“Dude, you— you like, full-on had a girl inside you for like a whole week.” He laughed again, as did Sam. “That's pretty naughty.”

You smiled to yourself as sleep claimed you once more.

***

Somewhere between state lines, you and the Winchesters were stopped to rest at a motel. Thoughts swam in your head as you thumbed the amulet Bobby had given the three of you for protection from future possessions. Suddenly, you slapped lightly against your forehead.

"Guys!" you exclaimed.

Both brothers startled.

"Tattoos!" You stood excitedly.

"Sweetheart, what are you—"

You began to pace around. "I've been tryin' to think of a way to make these amulets more permanent. How 'bout tattoos?"

Sam hesitated, but nodded eventually. "You're a genius. Why didn't I think of that?"

" 'Cause I'm smarter than you." You playfully stuck your tongue out at them.

And so, the three of you set off to find a tattoo parlor. Each of you got the amulet's symbol tattooed on you; the boys on their chests, and you on your hip. Dean was very clearly excited about the placement of the piece.

"Control yourself, please," you scolded while the artist worked.

"Tryin'," Dean replied.

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean winchester #supernatural #spn #supernatural series rewrite #spn series rewrite

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arachniee · 7 months

Text

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ “I’m Their Cure!”

༘✿ Synopsis: Unfortunately, you’ve fallen ill. You didn't tell your lover as you didn’t want to be a burden, so you decided to just let your friend take care of you. And trust me, your boyfriend was NOT having it.

༘✿ Notes: this has been in my drafts long before i created my other series. I needed to get the dust off this and post it lol. This is just purely chaotic fluff that may or may not have grammatical errors. Characters; Lucifer, Vox, and Adam.

‧₊˚✩彡 Lucifer M.

Let’s be honest, this man would have NO idea until you’re coughing up your lungs. It’s either he’s really fucking dense, or you’re just that good with hiding your sickness. He’d literally think that everything was normal until the day he didn’t see you at the hotel at all.

He’s asking everyone his eyes land on, asking them if they knew where you were. Most would just shrug and say no (lies), but just as when he was about to lose hope, his daughter saved the day by telling him.

You were at your friend's apartment?? Why?? That was genuinely the first thing that came to his mind. As he knocked on the (hopefully) right apartment door, he was conflicted when he saw a man with just a t-shirt on with a wet towel in his hands.

His mind went in all directions except the right one. His mind filled up with (horrifying) negative thoughts as he stuttered and asked if you were inside. And when the man in front of him said yes, he was instantly red.

He literally started attacking your poor friend with his much smaller frame, accusing him of doing things to you. The commotion was so loud that you heard the cat fight from your room, thus urging you to sluggishly make your way to them.

You immediately pulled Lucifer away from your friend, who surprisingly didn't have much scratches, as the little man in your hold visibly brightened upon seeing you. But his gaze soured just as quick as he glanced back at your friend.

“Leave.” He’d order, still fuming (adorably). “But this is my apartme–” And in the end, you managed to convince your friend to leave for a few hours. Apologizing to him as you tried to calm your lover down.

After the whole fiasco has died down, it was your turn to glare at Lucifer, who in return, chuckled nervously. Though, he'd try to defend himself, saying things like “who knows what he could have done to you if I didn't arrive on time?”

Once you explain everything to him, that feeling of uneasiness turns into guilt. He feels stupid. First, he didn't know that you were sick, second, he was so stupid that he wasn't able to take care of you properly (even though you didn't want him to know).

Despite your sickness, he's clinging onto you, mumbling sorry’s. He doesn't care if he gets sick in the process, he WILL take care of you now. You will go back to the hotel and stay in bed. You will not lift a single finger at all. You will be treated like royalty (which you practically are, at this point) and he’d be doing all the work for you.

Hungry? He's got a snickers. Thirsty? Here, have some apple juice. Having trouble sleeping? He's literally right beside you on your bed, snuggling close.

In the end, after you got better, it was his turn to get sick. And he's expecting you to reciprocate what he did when you were sick! (He just wants to be pampered and babied by you.)

‧₊˚✩彡 Vox.

Look, he’s a busy man. So hiding the fact that you were sick would be a piece of cake since you don’t meet that often, even if he desperately wanted to. But he does notice once you finally spend time together after a few days. He watched as you coughed and struggled to do things you’d usually do with ease.

He’d be very concerned about your wellbeing, despite not wanting to admit it, at least not so soon. Since he always has to be somewhere doing something, he’d get his most trusted employee to bring you stuff. Flowers to make you feel better? Right at your doorstep. A new, comfier blanket? Already on your bed, neatly folded. And of course, he never forgets the medicine.

He thought that sending gifts and stuff was enough for you (it was), but he was (not) wrong. At least that’s what he first thought during his visit when he finally had time. His eye twitched in irritation as he watched one of your ‘friends’ help you eat the soup, their hands carefully bringing the spoon to your lips.

He’d cough comically loud to try and get your attention. Come on, he’s literally standing in your doorway and yet you’re pretending as if it’s only you and your friend in the room. Once you finally notice his presence, you’d thank your friend before asking Vox why he was visiting you since you knew he was busy.

He refused to speak on that matter until your ‘friend’ left. Your friend understood (thankfully, Vox thought) and left, telling you to call them if you ever needed anything. Your lover would mock your friend behind their back by saying “ ‘cAlL mE iF yOu nEeD AnYthiNg’, bitch, who do they think they are? I can take better care of you by myself than they ever could.”

He’d instantly ask you tons of questions, why didn’t you tell him you were sick? Oh, you didn’t want to be a burden? Bullshit. He is not accepting that lame excuse. Unconsciously, he’d be pouting, and of course, it isn’t a matter of time until he throws a tantrum.

It took almost exactly 2 minutes before Vox was making a scene, dramatically conveying his hurt that you preferred some other bitch’s care than his. Isn’t he enough for you? He’d be making comments about how your sickness might have affected your brain and your taste. Not just in food, but in people.

What? You prefer some cheap fucker’s company during the time you’re vulnerable more than his? No, we are not going to talk about how he’s busy most of the time. And we are also not going to talk about how he literally threw a tantrum just to visit you.

He’d still be pretty cranky about everything, it’ll take quite the effort for him to consider forgiving you. No, kisses, hugs, and all of your attention when you’re better isn’t enough. He wants, no, he needs everything you have to and can offer.

‧₊˚✩彡 Adam.

At first, he doesn’t catch on that you’ve been more sluggish lately. He would complain about how you might not be doing your job properly, though it’s just a facade of his growing concern. But when you brush him off, saying that it’s nothing, then he’d reluctantly disregard the topic.

Once he finally realizes that you didn’t go to work (where he visits you quite often, well, more like everyday), he’d ask almost everyone that he encounters. Lute (who is tired of his bullshit)? Emily? Sera? Everyone will be questioned about you.

When someone finally gives in to his pestering and tells him that you were resting in your home, he’s sprinting there faster than the speed of light. He’d literally be banging on the door, screaming at the top of his lungs for you to let him in.

You’d groan and cover your ears with a pillow as your beautiful friend, Molly, laughed beside you. She sat upright as you tossed around trying to drown out Adam’s yelling. After realizing that he wasn’t leaving or stopping any time soon, Molly eventually asked if you really didn’t want her to open the door. You’d groan even louder, to which she’d chuckle at.

She was so sweet, cooking for you and making sure you drank your medicine. As she grabbed the empty bowl on the coffee table, she smiled as you finally gave her the green light to open the door for Adam.

She always found the two of you cute, the most adorable couple ever! And as soon as she opened the door, Adam zoomed past her, ignoring her presence completely. Once you finally come into his sight, he’d be scolding you about not telling him that you were sick, did you honestly think he wouldn’t be able to help? Don’t underestimate him, damnit!

He’d only ever acknowledge Molly’s presence as soon as she came into the room with medicine in her hands. To say that he’d be pissed was an understatement. He was (cutely) fuming, not only did you not tell him FIRST, but you also have someone else taking care of you?

Jealousy brewed more in the pit of his stomach as he watched you thank Molly and drink the medicine with a smile. Psshh, she just gave you pills! What’s so special about that? If you wanted medicine, you could’ve just fucking asked him and he would’ve given you a whole dozen of boxes!

The whole time Molly was there with the two of you, he’d literally comment (complain) on everything she does, whether it was to help you or not, her every action will be judged by him.

Though he still tries to help, asking you if you want a drink or a snack, making sure you’re not uncomfortable and other stuff. Don’t get him wrong, he’s still pretty fuzzy about everything. And he’d make his feelings known after your friend has (finally) left.

He’d immediately bombard you with questions that you would rather not answer. He’s being a dick, yes, but that’s because you acted like one first! Why would you not wanna tell him? He’s your lover! Do you not love him anymore?

You’d need to make it up to him because explaining that you just didn’t want to be a burden to him is not enough of an explanation, apparently. He’d make you promise that you’d give him ALL of your attention and time next time, and by ‘next time’, he meant when you’re not sick. Because he ain’t coming any closer than 5 meters with you. Get better first!

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel vox

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sebsrainbowbicycle · 7 months

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Whats your opinion on the whole Christian Horner thing?

Let me preface this by saying, I have intentionally stayed away from this subject for many reasons, but given there was an outcome of the investigation today, and some of the information I’ve seen here throughout the past weeks, now is as good a time as any to respond to this ask I got weeks ago. This is not, nor will I be offering in the future, my opinion on whether Horner is guilty of the accusations or not. I just want to maybe provide context, and information from my experience and career thus far, that might help people understand, and also my opinion on the reaction from people. Caveat - I am not a lawyer, nor will I go into specifics of my current or previous job, however I worked in the legal profession where I worked on legal cases, reviewed evidence, and made submissions and recommendations that went in front of Judges.

Okay my thoughts. My thoughts are that an internal investigation that should have remained private for all parties involved, especially the alleged victim(s), was leaked and used as clickbait and gossip by the media and people on here and other social media sites. I think people decided guilt without having any genuine information, without seeing the evidence and without any credible sources. I think were the person being accused a different member of the paddock that the reaction would have been different. I think people used this to virtue signal and cry out about what good people they are. I think people that constantly say that the media and journalists shouldn’t be trusted, fed into a feeding frenzy that led to the name of the alleged victim(s) being published, which will undoubtedly impact them for the rest of their lives.

Onto specific things I have seen that I’d like to offer my take on:

Christian allegedly offering the victim a sum of money - First of all, for anyone who has a certain amount of wealth, especially those in the public eye, this is a usual occurrence. You try to avoid an investigation by any means possible, whether you’re innocent or guilty, because a) it’s easier and usually cheaper in the long run, b) pr and public image are damaged by even unfounded accusations and these things can run on for an extremely long time, and c) trial by media is a thing, and innocent people get tarnished for the rest of their lives because of something they were accused of. Now, I’m not saying any of those are why the offer was allegedly made, but those are some of the reasons. Companies do the same thing, when someone has an accident at work and hurts themselves, even if the company do not believe themselves to be at fault they will make a settlement offer, to avoid any legal back and forth. Settlements are not an admission of guilt, but a way to make something go away quickly.

Said money being why the investigation “went away” - I saw a quote that said “the grievance has been dismissed”, that means there was a finding, not that it was withdrawn. even so, this was a red bull investigation carried out by an external barrister. Once the company were made aware of the allegations, their investigation is independent of either party involved, so even if the alleged victim(s) withdrew their grievance, the company would still have a duty of care to ensure that any inappropriate behaviour or actions were identified, investigated and addressed. Most importantly, red bull want to protect themselves legally, and following the procedures and carrying out a thorough investigation, which would identify if they were potentially exposed to risk, is how they do that.

How can they ignore 100’s of pieces of evidence - We don’t know that they did. It was reported, but never confirmed that there was over 100 pieces of evidence submitted, so this is absolute hearsay. Further, I would be extremely surprised if the investigation ignored any piece of evidence, given the ramifications of an incorrect or improper investigation. Also I think it’s really important to say that evidence does not equal guilt or that one party to the proceedings is correct. Allow me to provide you with a personal example. I worked on a case where there was over 5000 pages of evidence submitted into a legal bundle. Approximately 4000 of those were from the appellant who argued that the other party had acted incorrectly. (forgive my vagueness here I’m not about to doxx myself). 4000 pages of evidence, which I reviewed and made a decision that I did not support their argument. The judge agreed with me also. Evidence can be subjective, and sometimes it can be completely irrelevant. The presence, and submission of evidence is to support one sides view of things, the other side will have their own, and both are examined and balanced and decisions made on that and sometimes also on other independent investigation.

The investigation is private and cannot be shared - This is law. GDPR in fact because this is occurring within Europe. I’m literally spending this entire week on a GDPR course, and have an exam on Friday, so I really don’t want to go on about legal basis and restrictions for sharing personal data, but let me tell you it’s for good reason, especially with investigations like this. All parties involved in this have a legal right to privacy, covered by the human rights act, and unless there is a compelling legal reason why their data should be shared, then it can’t be without their explicit consent. Simple as. And that’s disregarding that there will be confidential company information within the investigation that also cannot be shared.

Horner committed a crime - given that we do not know the specifics of what occurred we simply don’t have enough information to know this, HOWEVER, from the information I have read, and by the fact that I have not seen an indication that the police have been involved with this, nor are they carrying out their own investigation, I am working under the assumption that no law has been broken.

tl;dr - These are real people’s lives, we are not involved and we have no right to know anything. This isn’t salacious gossip, and it’s not a fun thing to band around and use as a stick to beat people with to prove how good we are. Processes and investigations like this should be private, and basing things on hearsay and unscrupulous reporters does more damage to any alleged victims than good. Having seen how fans and social media have treated this investigation, do you think that makes any other alleged victims want to come forwards? I think not. But that’s just me.

#honestly I know some people are gonna think this is me publicly takkng a side but this is impartiality #because I don’t know the ins and outs of the case which is why I haven’t spoken on this before #people who know me know what side of the line I fall on #but this amount of misunderstanding wilful or not has been driving me insane #and how this has been treated like cheap gossip is frankly disgusting to me and some of you should be ashamed #ask #anon #Dee talks #Christian Horner

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magnus-rhymes-with-swagness · 1 year

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OKAY who wants to hear about why i think nimona challenges amatonormativity? you do! 🫵

one of the main ways this is accomplished is through ballister and ambrosius’s relationship. it’s arguable that it doesn’t necessarily fit the traditional model of romance - not only are they a queer interracial couple, and not only is their relationship ambiguous in the book, but there are certain instances, especially in the movie, that subvert traditional ideas of romance and friendship.

one instance that really stands out to me is when the director asks ambrosius what’s on his mind and he goes on his imagined rant about how arm-chopping isn’t a love language - you know the one. when he mentions ballister, he refers to him as “the man i love, my best friend.” and not just one or the other, but both! the man i love, and my best friend. he places equal emphasis on both the romantic and platonic aspects of the relationship, valuing ballister in both a romantic context and a platonic context without treating either one as more important than the other.

and even moments such as the first “i love you” and the kiss manage to subvert tradition. both of these things are generally seen as a pretty big deal, especially in fiction - if the characters are kissing or saying “i love you,” it’s usually a moment in which everything changes. a line is drawn, dividing the story into after and now. sometimes it’s dramatic and climactic, with fireworks and a swell of music, but even when it isn’t it’s still seen as a turning point of sorts. now it’s official, now it’s real. but this isn’t the case in nimona. both moments are certainly significant - they do a good job of showcasing the character development and where ballister and ambrosius are on their respective journeys, and are certainly important in terms of representation - but neither one follows the path that most fictional romance does.

another way in which nimona challenges amatonormativity would be the emphasis on friendship! in the tavern scene (in the movie) when ambrosius suggests killing nimona, ballister disagrees and says “she’s my friend.” ambrosius replies with “aren’t i more than that?”, implying he’s more important than a friend - thus upholding amatonormative ideas. ballister becomes angry at that and leaves - challenging this idea and prioritizing his platonic relationship with nimona over his romantic one with ambrosius, as nimona is the one he wants to defend.

additionally, a big part of this scene is the way ballister deliberately rejects institute values while ambrosius unintentionally upholds them. and because the story challenges homophobia and transphobia (and other forms of bigotry) through the lens of the institute, it would make sense for it to challenge amatonormativity too! it’s something that’s become incredibly normalized, to the point that lots of people don’t even know it exists, and this is reminiscent of the institute brainwashing, especially when it comes to ambrosius - he’s been manipulated his whole life and probably genuinely doesn’t understand the level to which he’s internalized institute beliefs.

ballister prioritizes nimona many times, actually. when he tells ambrosius she’s “smart, kind, and quite sophisticated,” when he’s overjoyed to see her again at the end, when he refuses to kill her and saves her instead. over and over, he proves how much he cares about her, even when this involves directly going against what ambrosius wants - which, of course, is really what the institute wants. a core tenant of amatonormativity is the false notion that romantic relationships are more important or valuable than other types of relationships, but ballister actively goes against this!

to conclude, as a story that at its core is about identity and challenging societal beliefs, nimona defies expectations and traditional ideas of what it should or shouldn’t be. it’s possible that amatonormativity wasn’t what the creators had in mind, but the story still manages to challenge it with grace and elegance. just like its main character, nimona refuses to conform to what others want it to be.

#nimona #nimona movie #ballister blackheart #ballister boldheart #ambrosius goldenloin #ballister x ambrosius #ambrosius x ballister #nimona netflix #nd stevenson #nimona spoilers #i could go on tbh but i think this is a digestible amount #often when i’m writing a meta i’ll walk around in circles talking into my phone recording my thoughts out loud #and then i’ll play it back and put the most coherent stuff into a list which eventually becomes paragraphs #and the combined recordings for this one are about half an hour in total lol #i’m just. absolutely in love with the whole story. both the book and the movie mean so incredibly much to me #changed my life shaped me as a person etc etc :’)#OH i almost forgot. this analysis is dedicated to the person who sent me aphobic anon hate about it before it even existed lol #i know i said i wouldn’t post anything if people couldn’t be normal but idc actually. seethe with rage! <3 #my words #meta

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theredofoctober · 5 months

Text

MANNA- CHAPTER FOURTEEN: TRIPE

Dark!Hannibal Lecter x Reader x Dark!Will Graham AU fic

TW for eating disorders, noncon, abuse, drugging, Daddy kink, child abuse and more (check the tags)

Read after the cut

By some sense of duty, or else an undug tendril of guilt, Will volunteers himself to oversee your evening routine alone. You allow him this, being in scant possession of what slim tolerance has borne you through Hannibal’s accompaniment thus far.

Will proves himself to be far less involved than the other man would have been in his stead. He leans against a wall with the nonchalance of a prison warden as you shower blood and spend alike down the receiving drain, allows you to pad into your bedroom, towel-wrapped, to select a clean nightdress and sanitary products with his head turned nobly aside.

You cannot determine if his distance from you is through respect for your condition or some lasting dislike of you, neither of which holds entirely true.

More likely it is that he does not see you as his child, yet, nor quite with the equality of a lover.

Still, as you get into bed he cannot help but come to you, uncertain as he his of his purpose.

“Will you give me a goodnight kiss?” you ask, part in bitter jest, and part in annoyance with his indecision.

That a man can fuck and beat you in throes of black delight and still skulk about like a repentant sinner would have confounded you in the days before you became accustomed to such duality. To what end, and upon what strength the latter side subsists is now the greater puzzle, for it is this that drags its heels and restrains Will from his full devilry.

“Well?” you say, brusquely. “What are you waiting for? Dad’s permission?”

Will gives a hard laugh, one hand kneading the back of his neck.

“I admire your commitment to the part, but you don’t have to keep it up so seriously when it’s just you and me.”

“I promised I would,” you remind him. “Why can’t you? You had no issue kissing me in front of Hannibal. I don’t see why it’s a problem now.”

You see Will’s fingers go to the bridge of his nose, wanting the guard of the eyeglasses he’s neglected to wear.

“It’s not genuine,” he says, flatly. “The only reason you’re asking is to manipulate me.”

“So what?” you say. “Scared that it’ll work?”

“Not scared, no.”

“Sure you’re not.”

There is something hysterical in your tone, the cut string of a trapped and weary madness.

Will examines you, aware of the power play you’re attempting over him, intrigued by it, despite himself. Attracted, even.

His gaze is like a stone in the sun, all heat, all black, all blue.

He knows what revulsion you must push past to test him like this, still slightly high from the forced euphoria of fucking, and the drugs. You’re beyond consideration of the consequences, irrational, barely attached to the tongue and teeth that bite at the air in their ire.

Still Will hangs from your words like a pilgrim knelt before an oracle, dependent on your answer.

“Haven’t you had enough of me kissing you tonight?” he asks.

Sniffing, you turn to face his gargoyle shadow on the wall.

“So it’s a no. You’d make a really terrible father.”

“One...”

“Not my name.”

So Will says it, gently, and you roll back towards him, your heart quick and high behind a rail of bone with the thrill of his appeasement.

Your truce, the union of flesh: they’ve altered Will, for as he looks at you a second time his pupils are the chasms between worlds, wild and deep.

Kneeling up on the bed, you make a trellis of both hands through his curls and clutch him to you in an ungainly kiss. Will stumbles in the force of it, his arms spilling about your back so as not to fall upon you with all his weight.

You gasp against his lips with eagerness to take what he has taken, to fallow the rose flesh of his inner mouth, the lathe of your tongue churning. Will is too surprised to kiss you in return, but as you hitch one leg after the other upon his hips you feel the vine of him against your groin, wanting you again, as always.

You think of him fucking you now, pinning your wicked hands with the nail of his fist as he thrusts through a sheen of blood. Though you despise him still, your loins smart with interest in engineering the act rather than merely suffering it as ever before.

At last Will returns your kiss, but briefly, and with a knowing restraint before he lays you back upon the bed again.

You grasp at his face in an attempt to reclaim his lips. He pushes you lightly away.

“Hey,” he grins. “You made your point.”

“Oh?” you say, coolly. “And what is my point?”

“That I like kissing you. That I want to kiss you, whether Hannibal’s here or not.”

“Right,” you say, twisting a corner of your quilt around one finger for something to do with your hands. “But you never would have picked me. Like, if I was in one of your FBI classes. If I was your student. Would you even have noticed me?”

Will laughs again, with a startled unease, as though the notion is foreign to him.

“Starting affairs with students isn’t exactly my style. I turn up, I teach. That’s it. I don’t get personally involved. Or didn’t, till now. Letting people get close is... uncomfortable for me.”

He glances down at the bunch of quilt in your closed knuckles. Unlike the ever-tactile Dr Lecter, he makes no attempt to take it away.

“So how come you got so close to Hannibal?” you ask. “Didn’t you say you had reservations about him?”

“He saw me even when I was making an effort to turn away. He and I have commonalities I can’t ignore, and enough differences to keep me wondering who he really is. There’s a lot even I don’t know about him, and there are times I wonder what I’m doing letting him in.”

You’re on the verge of another question as Will steps sharply back from the bed.

“We can talk more tomorrow,” he says. “I’ll still be here in the morning. But if you want my thoughts about Hannibal then it’s only fair that you tell me a little about you in return. If this is going to work long-term I need to know who you are.”

Then he goes over to the light switch and closes you in behind a shutter of night.

You’re roused from the saccharine heat of your bedcovers the following morning by Will rapping on your bedroom door. His face appears in the crevice between it and the frame as though wary to trespass, the broken spell of your desperation in his eyes.

“It’s so early,” you whine, noting the bare line of sunlight beneath the curtains. “And I feel like death, thanks to you and Dad. Can’t I stay in bed?”

“Hannibal just rushed out to an emergency appointment,” says Will. “One of his patients is having some kind of crisis, so it’ll be just you and me for a while. You want coffee? I was about to make some.”

An apology, you think, something to alleviate the swaddled and perspiring misery of your comedown.

“Sure,” you say, weakly. “Black, please. Sweetener, if there is any. The low calorie version.”

Will’s brows rise.

“You think Hannibal keeps that around?”

Reflecting on the little paper sachets that had been favoured throughout high school you say, “Ha. I guess not.”

Within twenty minutes you’re sitting up against your pillows, one hand gripping a delicate, steaming cup, the other soothing your stomach through which bites the first monthly cramp.

Will takes a nearby chair, eyeing the bars on your window as though assuming your daily view through the glass.

Though you loathe him still in his unpredictable oddities, you’re keen to make closer yet the allyship you’ve struck up with him, watchful though he is of that very attempt. If he will not help you escape, then a friendship at least may fortify the sanity you fear will leave you in this quasi childhood.

Will doesn’t seek your regression quite as Hannibal does— a cantankerous teenager is as young as he perceives you, the sick girl that never grew up. This house, then, is a Neverland in reverse, a sumptuous den of brutal sex.

Closing your eyes against such thoughts, you take in your coffee, each dark mouthful a long-acquired taste. You remember forcing back cup after cup of it, trusting it over plain water in the belief that it would burn calories as you drank.

Suddenly you’re acutely nostalgic for the days spent in your childhood room, scrolling through online threads of ailing young women in a community of mutual suffering.

It occurs to you that you may never feel so entirely comprehended without judgement as you were there again. You understand Will rather more through the thought, his convergence with Hannibal a relief to so lonely a monster.

“Tell me about ‘Dad’,” you say, into the silence. “You said you would, last night. Like, who even is he? Where did he come from?”

Will blinks, stirred up from his own brooding thoughts. In the dreary daylight he has the face of a beautiful invalid, all its angles skirted in shade.

“Hannibal’s from Lithuania, originally,” he says. “He had a younger sister, Mischa. She died a long time ago. I don’t know the finer details of what happened to her. She’s the only family he’s ever talked about, and even then it’s been bare bones.”

You sit up straighter, envisioning a young girl with Hannibal’s eyes, and none of his appetite.

“Huh,” you say. “That makes a lot of sense.”

"Hannibal would disagree. He doesn’t put much stock in the past making him who he is.”

“Seems kind of a weird thing for a therapist to say. He’s always digging into mine.”

Will looks at the floor, as though distinguishing some new pattern from the grains in the carpet.

“Hannibal views himself as... separate from other people. Being that he acts outside of ethics and the law in his own profession, I’d guess that what’s between us isn’t his only secret.”

“I’ve tried to tell you,” you say, tapping your coffee cup with bitten fingertips for emphasis. “I’ve known this for so long. But since you’re going along with his games how can you even judge him for whatever horrible things he’s doing?”

“Without knowing what he has or hasn’t done,” says Will, slowly, “I can’t say that I do.”

He gets up from his seat and paces before the window, his hands gesticulating like pigeons frenzied into startled flight.

“You assume that what I’m trying to learn about Hannibal—the core of who he is—is something ugly. But that isn’t what I’m afraid of. It’s the possibility of him lying to me. I don’t know if I could forgive him for that after the bond we’ve made. After what he encouraged me start with you.”

“You shouldn’t trust him,” you say, urgently. “Don’t. You don’t need him.”

Scoffing, Will says, “Jack seems to think I do. Alana— she’s convinced I’m one nudge away from disappearing so far into a case that I kill someone without even knowing it. Hannibal's the only one that doesn’t think of me as broken.”

You consider informing him of his suspected encephalitis, that Hannibal surely withholds this truth and more so as to keep his favour.

In the end you retain your silence; better that Will discovers the manipulation alone and behold how he has been misled upon this trail of darkness.

“Enough about me,” says Will, abruptly. “I know that someone hurt you, long before Hannibal. Before me. Someone you've never forgotten.”

Alarmed by the twist in conversation, you stammer, “I— I already told him some of it. I said I didn’t remember. But I was lying about that. I just don’t know if it was only one, long night, or it happened other times. I don’t know which is worse.”

You pause, slightly breathless. Like a portent from the white lips of some phantom you know that you must tell Will the truth, adhere him to your weeping heart with empathy for you.

“I was just a little kid,” you say. “And he was an adult. Nearly family— I used to call him Uncle Lee. Hannibal probably told you that. Anyway, I got my ‘wrong’ feeling about him way before he did what he did. Like I knew it was coming. Then he came into my room alone one night and... it happened.”

You put down your coffee cup, almost knocking it from the bedside table with the shaking of your hand. Will comes away from the window at once, dragging his chair to your bedside to listen. He neither speaks nor looks into your eyes, aware that you can bear neither without faltering.

“He touched me,” you say, “and the whole time I couldn’t even face him. I don’t even remember what I felt. Maybe I didn’t feel anything at all. Just stared at the ceiling or whatever. He did stuff to me that changed me forever. I felt like a tiny old person in a kid’s body, after that, knowing about things I wasn’t supposed to know.

“And the worst of it was still having to see him after. My parents— I tried to tell them, but I couldn’t get the words out. They just thought I didn’t like him. So he came back to the house, now and then. Never saw any consequences.

“I’ve always wondered if I was the only one, or if there were others. He was a plumber, or something; he could have access to people’s daughters anytime he wanted. Just walk into their room and... you know. I think maybe he did do that, a couple of times. Who knows.”

Your restless fingers pick at the gold embroidery on your bedspread, working it loose from the velvet. One of Will’s hands folds over yours, gently holding them still.

“What I always think about is how he treated me, afterwards,” you say. “I tried avoiding him, but it didn’t always work. One day he cornered me at the top of the stairs— my parents were in the kitchen, so it was just me and him.

“I must have been maybe twelve or so. Not far off thirteen. My body was changing. I was growing up. He said, ‘you’re getting a little chubby, you know. You ought to do something about that before you look like your mother.’

“Then he smiled at me, and just walked into the bathroom like there was nothing wrong with what had just come out of his mouth, or what he’d done to me all those years ago.”

Inhaling an unsteady breath, you try, with dubious success, to smile.

“So now you get why I’m like this. And knowing it wasn’t my fault, that Leland Frost is just a predator... it doesn’t fix anything. Like, where do I go from there?”

“He injured you,” says Will, softly. “And it may never stop hurting. But you can recover. No matter what you believe, it is possible. His shallow cruelty is not your compass. You don’t have to live on the basis of an insult.”

Scowling, you pull away from Will, trapping your hands under your armpits.

“How can I change when I’m reliving what I went through every day? Why does Hannibal think this’ll heal me? Why do you? Oh, yeah. You don’t.”

“I want it to,” says Will.

You snort dismissively.

“Yeah, yeah. Not so long ago you would have punched the air to see the back of me. You don’t want to share Hannibal with anybody.”

Will leans back in his seat, arms folded; it takes a moment for you to register that he is, by some subconscious impulse, copying your posture.

“I’m not sharing Hannibal with you,” says Will. “I’m sharing you with him. And I want to do that. You knew it before I did.”

His gaze snaps to yours, more arresting than his hands on you had been.

“You’re more like me than I cared to admit. Hannibal was right about that. And though everything about you should repulse his sensibilities he finds you adorable. You clearly don’t appreciate it, but there it is.”

You yearn to deny him, to condemn this speech as sophistry, but you are silent, as much a congregant to him as he has been to you.

“Leland Frost tore you down because he saw that you were growing up and away from him,” says Will. “He knew that one day you’d have a life, and achievements, and people that really cared about you. He was going to fade out of your world, and he couldn’t stand not leaving a mark.”

“I just don’t get it,” you whisper. “He loved me. Why did he do it?”

Will shifts his chair even closer to the bed so as to lean into you, his expression tender, tragic, sombre with a father’s sympathy.

“Leland never loved you, and that’s no reflection on you or your worth. It makes him weak, that he could throw away the relationship he had with you over an urge.”

You don’t have the strength to rage against the whited sepulchre in Will, not when he speaks the truth you’ve always yearned to hear from another. Pain winds through your body, throat to gut, great, twisting pulses, as though eviscerated on a blade of past.

What advice would Will give for you to survive what he and Hannibal have done, and will do?

Nothing. Not a word. He knows that the structure of the home, even comfort from those that afflict you has changed you in so short a time. Your desperation to be gone from him he senses, too, and with it your lust to be loved.

Will holds your hand for a long time before he speaks again, on another subject quite as dreary as the last.

“When you said it’d been years since you...”

“Since I last had my period?” you ask, touching your stomach through the sheets. “Yeah. It has been.”

Your body, the betrayer, making a scarlet banner of your betterment through cruelty.

“I never wanted it to come back. Having it again means I’m not as sick anymore, and that’s like... messing up for me.”

Will's head tilts, his face carved up by the shadows thrown from your barred window into a lattice of snow.

“Failing to die is barely a failure at all,” he comments.

You shrug yourself further under your bedcovers.

“It is if what’s happening to you is something worse,”

“Is it always so bad, being here with us?”

Will’s hand rises. Doesn’t quite touch your face. You turn your head away, but not cruelly; he’s not a bad man, you decide, only contorted so utterly from the ways of his fellows that he is some creature other, or from before, the flint-armed hunter of the caves.

And like such a creature, he seeks your answering affection for want of some warmth in the dark beginning of the earth.

You allow him to kiss your forehead, clumsily, inclined towards him as though you were not both aware of the fiction that allows this contact.

He can only guess how far you’d run from this, had you your chance. How readily you’d betray him.

You’re much recovered by the time Dr Lecter returns, having been hydrated and energised by a selection of unnamed supplements Will had you take with lunch; there is a cure for every ailment in the makeshift laboratory of the kitchen, it seems.

Hannibal discovers you at your usual perch of the parlour couch, writing in your journal with a blanket tucked loosely around you against the October cool.

Will stands to greet his companion, setting aside a book you’d offered him from your shelf to peruse, its cover depicting the bloody half-brain of the sun on a desert horizon.

“I didn’t expect our charge to be in such high spirits,” says Hannibal, with unmasked surprise. “Thank you for caring for her this morning, Will. I’m aware that whatever time you can spare for us in the midst of an investigation is very precious.”

Likely aware of your eyes on him, Will says, “I’m glad I stayed. I appreciated the company. How’s the other patient?”

“Suitably quieted. I doubt that I’ll be called away again on her behalf. Still, I made the most of the journey home.”

Hannibal reaches into a shopping bag looped over one arm and produces from it a wrapped package of fresh meat, marbling the paper with blood.

Grimacing, you say, “Ew. What is that? Looks like an organ.”

“It is. I’ll be making trippa alla romana tonight. It’s an Italian dish made from cow stomach. Don’t turn your nose up till you’ve tried it. Have I served anything to you yet that you haven’t enjoyed?”

After dinner, all three of the household recline, full and talking lazily before the fire. Had your company been any other than your abusers you would almost be content, for having been allowed to leave the table after a valiant half plate you are not so guilt-soaked as you’d have been had you finished it all.

You had, in fact, disliked the meal, a first in Hannibal’s house. The thought of the organ, plucked from the rib of a butcher’s shelf, had struck bile to the back of your mouth from the first bite.

A cup of chocolate, warmed to a froth and unadorned with cream is set in your hands instead, which you drink in feline licks to make it last.

Will’s phone shrills abruptly in his pocket. Frowning, he glances at the lighted oblong of its screen and starts at a familiar name.

“It’s Jack,” he says. “I’d better take this.”

He promptly exits the room, speaking with clipped tones into the device.

Alone with Hannibal, you become acutely aware of him looking at you, not quite with suspicion, but not so far from that.

"I see that you and Will are becoming close,” he says, at last. “I’m glad to see it.”

Humming vaguely, you snatch up the journal again and weave your pen about in a pretence of writing.

Hannibal says, "Still, it saddens me that—for all your pretty words of promise—you display a lesser willingness to befriend me.”

You do not answer, pressing your pen so hard against a page that it blots through to the other side.

"Put your journal down a moment, Little One,” says Hannibal. “I’m speaking to you."

Without looking up, you answer, "I don't know what you want me to say."

"You needn't say anything at all. It's your behaviour I wish to change."

In a flounce of irritation you throw the journal upon the floor, its spine creasing.

“I do what you say, and I don't fight you anymore,” you say. “Isn't that daughterly enough?"

"For the purposes of your treatment,” says Hannibal, “it is not. You remain closed to me, parted only by narcotic aid. I'd prefer you to open to me of your own volition. With Will, you prove yourself increasingly capable of that.

“I’ve given you all you’ve asked for, and more, and yet you show little gratitude. I wouldn’t wish to remove these luxuries for you to appreciate my endeavours.”

You look at him, then, this man both jealous and performing jealousy to groom you into his concubine, and in looking see that he will deconstruct your room into the barest cell, should he not have his way.

"I do appreciate what you’ve given me," you hastily protest. "I do, Daddy. You don’t have to take anything away. But I— I just don’t know you the way I know Will.”

“But you do,” says Hannibal, rising to sit beside you, a dangerous proximity. “That’s why you are so afraid of me, is it not?”

You begin to object, trailing off at the sound of approaching footfalls as the younger of your captors returns, listing in the churning swell of stress.

“It's the investigation,” says Will. “Another doll’s been found. Savannah Belmont. It’s too soon to be the Lover’s kill. He has a cool off point between each abduction.”

Hannibal straightens in his seat, rapidly alert.

“A copycat, then.”

Will nods, his throat tightening. His eyes touch your face briefly, and you offer him a small, close-lipped smile, an extension of comfort from across the room. His shoulders drop from their rigid line, and when he speaks again the frantic note in his voice is tempered slightly.

“Definitely a copycat,” he says. “The Lover disposes of the dolls by throwing them into rivers like garbage. No attempt to lay them to rest. Savannah was put on display, placed in a chair on a dirt bank as though she was waiting to be found.

“Both killers meant to degrade their victims, but only the copycat’s is implied to understand and accept that humiliation. Savannah Belmont died aware of her inferiority in the eyes of her murderer.”

You find yourself sitting on your hands to prevent them from betraying your agitation with their unsteadiness. Your leg, however, you cannot control, the right foot gyring an inch above the floor.

Hannibal eyes it without speaking, folding your reaction into the lengthy tome of his mind.

“The victim’s stomach was missing,” says Will, turning to pluck a bottle of whiskey from a nearby cabinet like some bronze fruit. “That’s new. The Lover’s mutilations are all with the purpose of fitting the bodies of his victims inside their silicone casings. He has no surgical skills.

“This new killer obviously has expertise. Savannah’s stomach was cut precisely from her body with the clear intent of taking it as a trophy.”

“Her stomach?” you repeat.

You feel the heaviness of meat within you and are chilled by the coincidence.

Hannibal could not have known what the copycat would take to reference it, could not have known of his existence to begin with, and yet as you glance at him under your lashes you don’t quite trust the seriousness of his expression, his eyes gleaming dimly as tarmac in the rain.

“You mustn’t worry, Little One,” says Hannibal, turning to lift you up onto his lap. “The Lover can’t hurt you. We will protect you, always.”

He settles your head against his chest, which resounds with the slow beat of his heart and the machinery of organs digesting his own rich meal.

The monster knows of your renewed distrust and is unthreatened by it, declawed and tooth-filed as you are by his influence over you and all the passageways of the world you’d otherwise cross in your escape.

“Thank you for taking care of me, Daddy,” you mutter, against his shirt, and the warmth of Hannibal’s palm cups your buttocks with a tormenting friction, both threat and tease at once.

While you hate him—are in terror of him, always—your form is increasingly enamoured by his touch as though it knows that it must be so, or die.

“No need to thank me for performing my duty to you, Little One,” says Hannibal, into your ear. “For you belong to me, and to Will, and you must never forget it.”

#manna fic #hannibal fic #tw noncon #tw csa #tw abuse #tw drugs #tw captivity #dead dove do not eat #hannibal lecter x reader #will graham x reader #hannibal lecter x reader x will graham #darkfic

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gigisriley · 2 months

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wait people say charpim is toxic or that they wouldn't work out as a healthy relationship??? im so confused is this just angst being grafted onto them or is there a valid argument to be made here?

Im new to the smiling friends fanbase btw and mostly am a lurker that seldom comes by to see fan content lel

first off, WARGGGHHH thank you for the ask i’m literally SO excited to answer!!!

rambling below the cut!!

i’m in two camps on this one. I think charpim in its CURRENT state definitely wouldn’t work. BUT Pim is definitely the kind of person who has the capacity to help Charlie. Pim is a very affectionate guy, and he’s open, honest and sincere. Hle’s very genuine, compassionate and beyond kind. In other words, he’s *exactly* what Charlie needs. Pim can make him better.

Charlie isn’t a bad guy. He’s far from it, actually. His whole job revolves around making people smile, even if his goal is a paycheck and not that fuzzy feeling you get in your chest when you make someone’s day better.

But he’s a very flawed guy. In Charlie goes to Hell and Doesn’t Come Back, I remember reading somewhere that Micheal and Zach wanted to originally make Charlie vape in the beginning, but the studio wouldn’t let them. So they settled on energy drinks. Thats why The Devil says “I can quit my addicted vices whenever I want”- this is supposed to be a moment of realization for Charlie. He can see himself in The Devil in that moment.

In Erm, The Boss Finds Love? Charlie literally gets shitfaced at the wedding. Even as he walks into the break room the next day, he says “I can’t keep doing this. Something’s gotta change, brother.” in reference to his hangover. He’s unhappy with where he is, and he recognizes there is a problem. But he doesn’t do anything to fix that. In the alien episode, both him AND Pim get shitfaced.

Charlie also instigates fights. In both Charlie Dies and Doesn’t Come back and the alien episode, Charlie’s the one to stir the pot. When they go looking for a tree to chop down, Pim keeps a level head and calm voice. Charlie’s the one who raises his voice and takes the axe to the tree. Charlie instigates thus fights with the dudebro aliens, literally egging them on. He’s so caught up in this that he literally elbows Pim in the face.

Plus, you never want to get into a relationship with someone under the notion that you can “fix” them. More often than not, people don’t change. It takes a MAJOR life event or some kind of trauma for someone to change. And Charlie, in the face of LITERALLY being given a second chance, continues to drink, instigate fights, and give in to his addictive vices.

In his current state, Charlie would definitely be the ‘toxic’ one in the relationship. He’d instigate fights, come home drunk out of his gourd, and he’d hurt Pim emotionally. Whether or not he’d hurt him on purpose is up for debate. Pim would overexert himself trying to keep them together, and fall apart. You can’t help someone who doesn’t want to be helped.

Charlie needs to change if they’re going to work. He needs to get better. THATS why I think they wouldn’t work, at least not yet.

At the end of the day they’re just silly little guys in a cartoon about Friends Who Smile so i’m probably reading WAY too much into a guy who looks like a peep. But oh well. To be cringe is to be free.

(ID LOVE to talk more about this—- if anyone has any comments on this or disagrees, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE let me know in the notes. i like talking about my silly little pink and yellow middle aged men)

#THIS WAS SO FUN TO ANSWER #OH MY GOD THANK UOU FOR ASKING ME #tumblr user asswipe56 i 🫡 u #this is also a big reason i wrote creature of habit too #i wanted to work out a situation where it would literally FORCE charlie to better himself wether he liked it or not #i just want them to be happy 🥺#asked and answered #asks #charpim #smiling friends #charlie dompler #pim pimling

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sapphiresandferrari · 2 months

Text

Heaven on dirt (2/?)

Summary: When lady y/n Lannister moves to King's landing to be Queen Haelena lady in waiting, she didn't think she could catch the attention of a certain one-eye prince

During her stay, the two of them grow more and more fond of each other, but what happen when they both get betrothed to other people?

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Lannister reader

Warnings: fluff, smut in the next chapters, perv Tyland Lannister, Plotto Otto Hightower being the usual controlling freak, kind of slow burn

A/N: here we are with the second chapter of this fic, sorry I made you wait so long

English is NOT my first language, so apologies if there are any mistakes

Likes, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated, feel free to give me advices or suggestions, just remember to be polite

Hope you enjoy it 🫶🏻

“I found this one while I was walking in the garden six moons ago, he was all alone on a leaf, so I took him with me”

Queen Haelena was explaining to you everything about her insects, she was so enthusiast about them, that you didn’t have the courage to tell her that you were deeply repulsed by them, scared even, not wanting to have those things near you.

You knew what it felt like to not been understood for your interests, and the look on her face when she talked about them, made you heart clenched, she was such a pure soul, and you were happy to spend your days in her company.

You saw the queen taking a spider in her hands, explaining to you that it was extremely rare to find, thus why it was her favourite “my dear brother gave it to me for my name day, I don’t know how he managed to get it, considering that it can mostly be find in Essos, that’s why it’s so dear to me”

As she mentioned her brother, your mind immediately went to the dinner you had with her family when you arrived, when prince Aemond defended you from your uncle comment.

“Prince Aemond seems to be a proper gentleman, my queen, is no wonder that he gave you such a special gift, he seems to care for you very much”

Your cheeks flushed at the thought of the prince, although his appearance was peculiar, to say the least, you still found him handsome, with his mysterious aura and the eyepatch that made him look like a character from the novels you so adore.

Haelena didn’t miss to notice your reaction when she mentioned her brother, just like she didn’t miss how Aemond reacted whenever she was around or when he heard her name, but while it was easier to let her new friend admit that she fancied her brother, Aemond on the other hand was a much more complicated matter.

He was proud and with everything he went through his childhood and considering how almost every lady at court thought he was repulsive, it wouldn’t be easy to let him admit that he was developing some feelings for lady Y/N.

They could make a nice couple, the queen thought, they shared a lot of interests, and y/n calm nature seemed to be a good match with Aemond’s dark demeanour.

She would’ve speak with her brother that evening, try to learn more about his brother’s true thoughts about her new lady in waiting, surely not an easy task but she was tired to see his brother being this unhappy, she knew he was a man with so much love to give, yet it was hard for him to let go of the mask that he has been wearing for all these years, he was scared of being hurt again, understandably so.

“Did I tell you that my brother is very fond of history books? Maybe you should ask him to show you the library one day, I’m sure you’ll love it” lady y/n blushed, it seemed that the queen figured that she had an interest on her brother, wondering if it was this obvious to other people as well, most of all the prince.

She couldn’t stop thinking about him since that dinner, the way he defended her made her heart flutter.

y/n hoped the prince didn’t think of her to be a pathetic little girl, she genuinely wanted to know him better, he seemed interesting, compared to his brother, he was the perfect man, smart, educated, polite, she wouldn’t mind a husband like him.

“Is fine my queen, I’m sure the prince has too many things to do than show me the library, there’s no need for him to help me, he already did too much the other evening”

“My brother doesn’t like injustices, after what happened to him, he seems to be…captivated by you, my lady”

“What…what happened to him? Is it about how he lost his eye?” lady y/n tried to ignore what the queen said, about the prince being captivated by her, she had to force herself not to think about him in a romantic way, it would only cause her pain, she would never be able to marry him.

“He will tell you what happened when he feels like, my lady”

“of course, my queen, I shouldn’t have asked, my curiosity got the best of me”

“that’s understandable, but unfortunately is not up to me to tell you about his accident”

y/n lower her gaze on her embroidery loom, wondering what must’ve happened to him, asking herself if he will ever tell her about his accident.

After a bit, a servant entered the room, telling the queen that her mother was waiting for her in the gardens.

“Would you like to join us lady y/n?”

“Oh it is a kind offer my queen, but I think I will go to the library, I haven’t seen it yet and you made me curious after your comment earlier, I hope you don’t mind”

“Not at all, you may go, we will see each other tomorrow my lady”

And with a small courtesy, y/n headed to the library, hoping to spend the rest of her day reading in peace.

Aemond’s mind was elsewhere that morning, like all the other mornings since she came to the red keep.

She intoxicated his mind, she was all he could think off, when he wasn’t thinking about the war.

He realised how bad it was, when even Ser Criston scolded him during their sparring session

“you’ve lost focus my prince, you can’t risk it in battle” Cole paused a bit, looking at the prince with a sympathetic expression “if I may, my prince, maybe you should spend some time with the Lannister girl, she’s clearly clouding your mind, maybe if you” hearing those words Aemond interrupted the knight immediately “you went to far Ser Criston, do not forget your position”.

The prince was angry, he hated how obvious it was to everyone that lady y/n is now living rent free in his mind.

It never happened to him before, usually ladies at court are so dull and empty, not a single thought in their heads.

But lady Lannister was different: he saw her interacting with his sister sometimes, feeling embarrassed at the memory of him sneaking in his sister room to check on her.

He wanted to be sure they would get along, and he was stunned by how she was treating his siter.

Lady y/n was clearly displeased by her sister’s bugs, yet she tried to not show it on her face, not wanting to make her sister bad for her odd interest.

“Today’s sparring session is over Sir Criston, I wish to go to the library” Aemond said, the knight’s comment still echoing in his mind “as you wish my prince, apologies for my comment, it was improper of me”

With a grunt, the prince headed to the library, wanting to relax in front of the fireplace.

Reading is probably one of the few things that make Aemond feel at peace, besides when he flies on his dragon.

He thought about maybe try and inviting Lady Lannister to the library one day, he didn’t recall if she already went there, but knowing the interest in books they both share, this could be the perfect occasion for start becoming familiar with her.

But as he reached the handle to open the door of the library, he stops in his track, immediately recognising her sweet voice, reading out loud.

“King Aegon entered the throne room, finding queen Visenya beside the iron chair “a..abr…abra” is that…high valyrian?” the prince smiled, it was quite funny to see her struggling with the language of his ancestors.

“It is, my lady, the word you’re trying to read is pronounced ābrazȳrys, it means wife” lady y/n jumped when she heard his voice, she was not expecting to see the prince, and now she felt embarrassed that he saw her struggling like that.

“Thank you, my prince, I started reading this history book about Aegon the conqueror and I seem to struggle with some words”

Aemond was amused to see that she showed interested in the deeds of his ancestors, he knows those books by heart, so he thought he could use it to his advantage to know her better.

“I apologize if I scared you, it was not my intention”

“Is not trouble, my prince, I appreciate your help…I was wondering, would you help me with another words? I stumbled over it earlier and I’m not quite sure about its meaning”

The prince moved towards her, eager to help her.

“Sure, my lady, I’m happy to help” he sits beside her, his eye scanning her gentle features while she was searching for whatever words she didn’t understand.

“Is this one, my prince, I imagine it might mean fire, or something similar, since the king is talking to his dragon, but I’m not sure”

“May I, my Lady?” y/n nodded, giving the prince the book to read the word she couldn’t understand.

“you’re correct, Lady y/n, it means, indeed, fire, is a command we use on our dragons when we want for them to burn something, you did well”

y/n was happy to see that she wasn’t wrong with her assumption and was eager to know more about this fascinating language.

“And how do you pronounce it, if I can ask?” clearly curious to learn, she made the one eye prince smile.

“drakarys” y/n got distracted by how his tempting lips were pronouncing that word, blushing at the thought of how they must feel on hers

“dra-ka-rys” she repeated slowly, Aemond feeling proud of how quickly she learnt and actually smart she was.

“Precisely, my lady, you did well”

Hearing those words, lady y/n felt an odd feeling inside of her, wanting to hear more praises coming out from his lips, so she surprised herself and asked “can you teach me, my prince? I want to learn high valyrian, it’s such an interesting language, I want to know more”.

Her enthusiastic tone shocked him, but it was in that moment that he realised that he couldn’t let her slip away.

In his mind it was clear, lady y/n would’ve been his wife, at this point, it was stupid of him to deny his growing feelings for the Lannister girl.

And when he saw the spark in her eyes when he agreed to teach her, he realised he was doomed.

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bvidzsoo · 2 years

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Panic Switch

Author: bvidzsoo

Warnings: light swearing here and there, awful parenting, the use of ‘sociopath’

Pairing: Xavier Thorpe x female reader

Word count: 13,647

Summary: You descend from a famous and ancient bloodline of empaths. Since the moment you were born, your mother knew you were different than them and that you would wreak havoc. And she was right in a sense. You didn’t feel emotions like others and, thus, your judgement wasn’t always the best. You grew up being called a freak by your own family, who were afraid of you and kept their distance, never showering you with love. And then, at the age of eight, you met Xavier, who was different, considered a freak too by humans...he seemed to be a little bit like you. This quickly lead to a long lasting friendship, but was it always genuine? Or would Nevermore change everything for the two of you? Were you ready to unveil your secrets to Xavier and those around you?

A/N: Ohmygod! It feels amazing to be inspired again and to be able to write. Thank you Xavier Thorpe for your existence, you brought back the artist in me, hahaha. Share your thoughts with me, I love feedback, don’t be shy! I use the term ‘sociopath’ a lot and despite doing research, I might have gotten it a tiny bit wrong. But...don’t take my head off for that, this is a work of fiction after all. I might be a little bit crusty, it’s been a while since I wrote, but damn, does it feel good! I hope you enjoy this little story! Happy reading!

Nevermore Academy, a place for all the misfits, or what I like to call ourselves, freaks. This school is the only place where I don’t feel out of place or left out of things. Why would I say that? Because even to my family, I am a freak. I’m different than them, and they are scared of me. I am the black sheep of the family; somebody they refuse to speak of if asked. I’m half convinced I was sent to this academy because my parents feared what I would do at a regular school. After all, following my mother, I am the first one to attend Nevermore. I have four siblings, and all of them go to regular, normal, schools in our hometown. Our abilities aren’t something obvious as we aren’t prone to kill or turn into nightmarish monsters, so, we were deemed safe to society. Well…everyone, but me. We are, what one could call, an empath. Our abilities consist of recognizing others emotions and controlling them to a certain extent. When I talk about my family, they can only feel one’s emotions when they touch them and they can only induce calmness or happiness; their manipulating techniques are restricted. But when it comes to me…imagine it like this: there are mind readers, whom are able to constantly read one’s mind, and then there I am. I am able to constantly feel the emotions of those around me. I don’t have to touch them; all I have to do is be in their vicinity and connect to their frequency. If I’m accustomed to said person, it just comes naturally to me, without having to do anything. So that means: we intersect ways twice and from then on, I’ll always know what you’re feeling. And when it comes to manipulating one’s emotions, I can induce whatever feeling I’d like to. I’m not restricted like the rest of my family is, another thing which freaks them out. Over many generations, there hasn’t been someone like me in the family. And I truly think they would’ve accepted me the way I am, if I wasn’t a sociopath. Now, that is the part which freaks them out the most. The lack of emotions I experience and the lack of empathy I feel for others, which is quite ironic, isn’t it? And to top my day, it’s Parent’s Day. The day when our families come and visit us at Nevermore.

Everyone around me was feeling excited, the emotion so intense it was almost making me nauseous. Well, everyone except Xavier, who was feeling quite miserable and yearning, as he looked at Ajax and his family, who were hugging him and talking to him animatedly. Xavier’s father wasn’t coming this year either, and as much as Xavier would say he didn’t care, you didn’t have to be an empath to see how much his absence affected him. This boy almost always felt miserable and perhaps that is why I liked to stay around him, it wasn’t a cheesy feeling and it gave me comfort. Anything negative felt better than something very positive; if my parents were to hear that, they’d probably faint on the spot, especially my mother. I glanced at Xavier, who was leaning his weight on one leg than the other one, and sighed.

“Stop fidgeting,” I snapped at him, and gripped his arm as his hands were shoved into his pockets, “You’re making me nervous.” A lie, I can’t feel anything like it.

“Sorry,” Xavier cleared his throat as his deep forest green eyes found mine, “It just makes me anxious…seeing everyone’s families. My dad said he’d come, but…I don’t know, Y/N.”

“He probably won’t come.” I deadpanned and I felt disappointment seep through Xavier, truth was always better than lying. And I knew he hated people who lied to him, especially me. Someone who he considered a friend. Still holding his arm, I offered him a smile; one which was robotic, I had learned it a long time ago, and took a lot of time to perfect it so that it would look genuine; I felt a shockwave run through my body. I always felt that when I used my abilities, and as Xavier and I gazed into each other’s eyes, I felt him slowly calming down, my power influencing him. And what was fun in it all, was that they never knew when I used my powers on them. They always thought it was them doing it, but it was always me.

“No use wasting energy on him, right?” Xavier’s smile was half assed, until I felt a strong wave of happiness wash through him. I didn’t need to see the cause of it, I was used to my family’s auras and the feel of their emotions. Xavier saw them, that’s why he got so happy suddenly. I released my grip on his arm and turned my head forward, sighing quietly to myself. My parents were smiling sweetly at everyone who greeted them, they were quite famous therapists, and my siblings, who were walking after them very disciplined, were greeting people politely. One would say my family looked very fake at that moment, but they were actually genuine. They were always happy for the people around them and it was sickening. To me at least.

“Eliza!” Xavier exclaimed as he ran up to my mother and father, who were like his parents as well; we grew up together, “Brad!”

Mom and dad engulfed Xavier into a hug and greeted him with huge smiles, asking him how he was. Sighing again, loudly, I slowly approached them, plastering my generic smile onto my lips.

“Hello,” I spoke up, earning my family’s attention, “and welcome. How was your trip?”

My father smiled at me and was the first one to pull me into a hug, he genuinely missed me. However, my mother kept her distance and plastered on the fakest smile I’ve ever seen. She wasn’t feeling disgust at the sight of me, just…disappointment, how lovely. Not that it was anything new to me.

“Long and tiring, but we got here in time.” It was my mother who answered me and my siblings stepped forward, to greet me. Kevin, the eldest of us, rarely spoke to me. For some reason, he was the most afraid of me and his cowardly amused me. Gemma, who was considered the middle child despite me being it, and was always on her phone, greeted me with a nod and then looked away, far more interested in the academy than me. She was jealous that I got to go here, while she had to go to that mundane, boring, high school. Alec, the youngest of us, ran up to me and tackled me in a hug. The top of his head barely reached my abdomen, he was still growing. Since the moment of his birth he seemed to love me the most. My parents feared he’d turn out to be another sociopath, but I knew he wouldn’t. What they didn’t know, was that he was the most empathetic out of them all, and that he felt pity towards me for the treatment I got from the rest of the family. Oh, and he kind of happened to really love me, for some unknown reason to me. Jason, who was just a year older than me, looked at me with a smug expression and chuckled. But deep inside he was just as scared as the rest of my family, and the funniest thing was, that he could never hide it from me.

“What a freaky place—” He sniffed loudly and glanced at Xavier, Jason never liked him, “Perfect for freaks like you.”

For an empath, Jason was an asshole. Xavier went to say something, but my mother quickly reprimanded Jason, only because he dared to insult Xavier as well. Her precious little boy, I know she secretly wished to have him as her son. She would’ve given me away at any time while I was growing up.

“Careful, Jason,” I let a wide, psychotic, smile spread onto my lips, “We might just devour you in a dark corner.”

Alec, despite the morbidity of my words started giggling, and my mother’s glare could’ve killed me on the spot. My father just sighed and with his eyes asked me to stop the attitude or a fight would follow, and mom would hate that. She hated her perfect little image tainted. Everything had to be perfect, and maybe that’s why she disliked me so much.

“Why don’t you show us around, sweetheart?” My father’s smile was kind as he gripped Jason’s shoulder and pulled him into his side, giving his shoulder a subtle squeeze. My mother went and crossed her arm with Xavier’s, not waiting for me as she started walking ahead of us. I rolled my eyes and held Alec’s hand as he quietly asked me to do so.

“I’ll stay here, my legs will later hurt if I walk around too much.” Gemma whined and before anyone could answer her, she took off towards a bench. Nobody minded her, she was always allowed to do whatever, spoiled brat. Fear was oozing out of Kevin and I let my eyes fall on him as the others took off, leaving us behind. Despite my dad asking me to show them around, my mother decided she’d do it herself. Not that I was surprised.

“Kevin, please” I sighed as my nose scrunched up when he jumped at the sound of my voice, “if you’re so scared, just go sit in the car or something.”

“Mom asked me not to make a scene.” He said while he scratched the back of his neck, “You know how she gets—”

“When things don’t go her way?” I scoffed and looked down at Alec, who giggled again, this little one loved to cause mischief and I might prefer him more over the rest of my siblings, “Go sit in the car, I’ll tell them you weren’t feeling well.”

A huge sigh of relief left Kevin’s lips and he showed me a small smile, suddenly his emotions changed and he was feeling grateful but incredulous at the same time, “Thank you, really, Y/N!”

For someone who was twenty-five years old, he really should’ve stopped fearing our mother a long time ago, “I��m not doing this out of kindness, I just hate the wrenched smell of the fear you’re oozing. It stinks, Kevin.”

Once these words, which some would consider harsh and hurtful just like Kevin, left my lips, disappointment seeped through him and he just turned around and walked off, sulking. I rolled my eyes before Alec and I started walking, trying to catch up with the rest of our family and Xavier.

I felt a light tug on my hand and I looked down at my little brother again, “You can actually smell the emotions we feel?!”

His exclamation and amazement amused me, I chuckled, but before I could answer him, he had more to ask, “What does my amazement smell like?!”

I acted as if I was thinking of it and just to amuse myself more, I sniffed the air around him, “Cotton candy.”

Alec’s mouth fell open and his amazement was replaced with excitement, “That’s so cool! I wish I could be like you, sis!”

Cotton candy was his favorite. And no, you don’t wish to be like me. I hummed as we finally spotted our family, who were just entering Ophelia Hall. I wish I was ready to spend the whole day with them, to feel like a freak once again. I hated acting nice, because it was fake, but around them I had no other choice. Unless I wanted mother to have a fit, which was always quite amusing. But not today, I promised dad I’d behave and show them the school had a good effect on me. Maybe it’s better if they don’t know about the attacks happening to students, I wouldn’t want to be taken to a normal school, Wednesday’s stories of them sounded horrible. I wouldn’t survive a day there.

My parents knew from the very moment I was born that there was something wrong with me. As a baby, I would rarely laugh when they’d play with me and I would often enjoy hitting Jason, who was an easy target. Whenever Kevin was asked to watch us, I'd somehow lock him up somewhere, so he couldn’t see us and I’d take Jason’s toys away and either throw them at him or hit him with them. But really, these signs could’ve meant that I was just an evil kid and I’d behave better as I grew, but whenever my mother touched me, she felt nothing. I would stare at her blankly and when I’d feel the horror of the thought of her daughter being an abomination, a smile would spread onto my lips. After a while she just stopped touching me, too afraid of my emotions. Or lack of them. It was quite pathetic, really, how a mother was afraid of their own child. A little child, nonetheless. I was harmless, unless you’re asking Kevin and Jason. My father would try and calm my mother by saying that I would develop later and that maybe I was just masking my feelings to annoy them, but the desperation in him each time he’d grip my arm or shoulder to feel the emotions coursing through me, said otherwise. I was a lost cause in their eyes. I think the final straw for my mother was when I had turned five and they attempted to teach me how to control my powers and how to manipulate others, and I just told them that I already knew how to do all of that. The feeling of dread oozing from my mother surprised me, that’s why I still remember it, and it was then when I realized she saw me as a freak. Something she’d hate her whole life. My father gripped her arm and attempted to calm her down, but my mother realized what he was trying to do and started screaming at him that whatever I was, was dangerous to the people around me and that I was a monster. They couldn’t control me and that scared her.

“Daddy is shocked,” I remember I said with a little smile, “but you, mommy, you are scared. Horrified. Disgusted. Do you not like me?”

My mother’s lips quivered as I tauntingly pouted at her, she was on the verge of crying, “I thought you were supposed to love me. Like you love Kevin and Jason.”

“I can not love a monster like you—” My father gasped and his shock quickly turned into anger as his head snapped towards his wife.

“Eliza!” He exclaimed and looked at her with an expression telling her she shouldn’t have said that, “How can you say that?!”

“Look at her, Brad! Does she seem normal to you?!” My mother’s voice was raising and I continued to listen to them quietly, blinking from time to time. Disgust mixed with betrayal was what my mother was feeling and my father was just shocked, angry and disappointed.

“At least keep your thoughts to yourself, she’s just a child!” My father hissed at mom as he gave me a side glance and mom just shook her head in defiance. Before a big fight could erupt, I spoke up as if I was clueless.

“Mom doesn’t have to speak; I feel whatever she’s feeling. And they are never very nice, especially right now.” I said quietly and my parents looked at me both sharply, questioningly.

“I don’t have to touch people to feel emotions, like you all. I can just simply feel them, all the time.” I continued talking and shrugged. They remained quiet and I walked up to them, looking up with no expression on my face. My emotions were always simple, what I felt inside, was calmness. Numbness or nothing. That was my usual state of mind. When triggered enough, I would get angry or irritated, or some other negative feelings, but other than that, I was just…calm. When Alec was agitated as a toddler, he’d always come up to me and hold my hand. When he learned how to speak, he’d always tell me I felt so peaceful, like nobody else.

“What—what is happening?!” My mother stammered as I let them feel whatever I was feeling, numbness.

“This is what it feels like if you’re me,” I chimed up with a fake smile, I didn’t know if it was a moment asking for a smile or not, “and I can make you feel whatever I’d like you to feel.”

I barely finished talking, when my mother turned around and stormed out of the room, taking her horrendous emotions with her. My father sighed and asked me to stop channeling my emotions onto him. He took my hand next and walked me to my room and put me to sleep, reading a fairytale about some princess who got saved from a big monster by a blonde prince, who liked to draw in his spare time. The whole time he held my hand, despite being just five, I knew what he was doing. He wanted to see the roller-coaster of emotions any kid my age would feel during a story like that, and got nothing in exchange.

A few years went by and my relationship only worsened with my mom. She barely spoke to me and started running some harmless tests on me. Kevin was getting more and more scared of me, to the point where he’d start crying if I looked at him for a little too long. Jason would avoid being around me and would call me all kinds of disgusting names. It wasn’t like all of that bothered me, but I knew a decent human being shouldn’t have treated one of its own like that. It was basic knowledge. I was eight when one day dad walked into my room and told me to get dressed because we were going hiking. I wasn’t a big fan of long walks in nature; but nature, which felt just as neutral as I, was always a blessing. Living in a household where everyone’s emotions ran high was exhausting; and Gemma was only four years old, her emotions combined with mother’s would give me migraines on some days. So, after getting dressed, dad and I took off and walked for about an hour. He knew there were some animal attacks in the area, but we were safe. Father’s special power was creating a protective shield around him and whatever else he wanted to, his family lineage was a mix of mind controllers and empaths, they inherited some pretty cool abilities. Apparently, only Alec and I inherited the mind control abilities, but I decided to keep mine a secret, I knew mom would’ve had a heart attack if I were to tell them about that too. Alec could control one’s body to his liking, meanwhile I had the basic ability of moving things with my mind, but only if I concentrated hard enough on them. My father was a hunter as well, he’d seen many gruesome things in his life, yet he’d always feel so awful when he saw a dead animal. During one of his trips, he discovered an animal sliced in two and he knew it must’ve been the werewolves from the outskirts of the town. He wasn’t a big fan of said pack, but as long as they stayed away from my father’s hunting territory he remained civil with them. I was enjoying our walk as I ran up a smaller hill, but soon came to a halt. A lamb was torn in two and flies and other insects were devouring it. I felt my father’s disgust and sadness before I felt his hand on my shoulder, and he sighed. It was hard looking away from the scene. It was nothing like I had seen before. Murder was such a fascinating thing. I was snapped out of my thoughts as my father turned me around and we started walking back as he asked me to hold his hand. My mind was still on the dead animal I had seen, curious as to what happened to it, and how. Whatever killed it, was ruthless.

“I’m sorry you had to see that, sweetheart, it was terrifying and disgusting.” My dad said and I could feel he was sorry. I shrugged and looked up at him with big eyes.

“It’s fine, this is how nature works, right? Kill or get killed.”

My father chuckled, but I felt him shudder. For some reason, he was really calm and that was unlike him, “It feels inadequate to hear something like that coming from an eight-year-old girl.”

I shrugged and followed him wordlessly.

“Aren’t you scared? That we could end up like that too?” My father asked and I took a second to think before I shook my head.

“No, because daddy can protect us with his shield, can’t you?” I grinned at him, finding his power quite fascinating. He could’ve used that to his advantage in so many cases.

“Of course I can, and I would at any given moment,” He cleared his throat and I felt him looking at me, “Can daddy ask you a few questions?”

“Sure!”

“When was the last time you got angry or mad?”

“I don’t know.” My eyebrows furrowed as I tried to remember, but couldn’t.

“What about feeling sad? Your grandma died just a month ago, it was really hard on all of us.” He was right, it impacted the family harshly. Well, not me, but to them it was awful. And thus, indirectly to me as well, because they made me feel miserable with their awful feelings.

“I know, all of you were grieving and hurting, it was really bad.” I grimaced thinking back, even though sometimes they’d still feel quite depressed, “It was very overwhelming to be around you, your emotions were making me feel awful. It was very bothersome.”

“You didn’t share our emotions?”

“Other than the headaches mom would get, no.” I muttered and ducked down as we passed by a tree which’ branch was hanging really low. My father hummed as we were nearing the road.

“And happy? When did you feel happy?”

“I can’t remember.” My answer was quick and honest.

“What about love?” Suddenly the calmness disappeared and hope washed over my father, as I looked up at him. What was he hoping for? That his little daughter was suddenly cured after a walk in the woods? After seeing a poor animal sliced in two? I didn’t care. I felt nothing. It didn’t impress me or left me with trauma.

“I don’t know what love is or feels like. I physically can not feel it or experience it. Every human being has a different definition for love and they all feel it differently, so I don’t have an exact answer for you.”

My father’s eyes got a bit teary as the hope he felt was shattered by my words, “You don’t know what it feels like to love.”

“I don’t, and I never will, because I’m a monster.” Maybe it wasn’t the right time to smile, but I did as I looked at my father. And he felt disappointed, not at me, but at himself. But at least now he was convinced of what I was. An empath with no emotions of its own.

“I will teach you everything you need to know to live a seemingly normal life between humans, alright?” There was a newfound spark in my father’s eyes, so I just nodded. And quite ironically, I met Xavier Thorpe the next day as his father came to visit my parents. It was funny, how Xavier met the me, who didn’t know how to mask its true self, yet he seemed to forget the real me as we grew older and older. Maybe it was because I was a genuinely good actress. My father kept his words and taught me everything I needed to know about feelings, emotions, and how to act around people. He helped me asses a situation and react accordingly to it. He taught me how to comfort a suffering person and how to make others laugh with stupid jokes. He taught me how to have a genuine smile and what being kind and sweet to others meant. He taught me when to be sad or even mad, and what to tolerate from others and what not to. I became an excellent body language reader and knowing what people felt around me, it just turned me into a master manipulator. It was funny how everyone who didn’t know the real me loved me and wished to be around me, yet all my family wished to do was run as far away as possible if they happened to come near me.

The day was turning out to be horrible. So much happiness caused an almost unbearable headache. I was feeling quite moody and my family was just making it worse, especially my mother. At some point I stopped paying attention to her and would’ve been grateful to Alec, if I were able to feel that, when he kept asking questions about the academy and whatever he found cool or creepy. The statues were his favorite and he told me he would come to this academy too once he grew up, it was a secret, but he actually disliked normal schools. Too much normality for such a curious and mischievous boy like him.

Currently, it was lunch time and we were sat at a table in the courtyard, supposed to have some pleasant conversations. We were sat close to Ajax and his family and it was quite hard not to overhear his mother, who was loudly praising Ajax and his cousins for their achievements. It was funny, how I was a top-grade student, yet my mother uttered not even one word of congratulations or acknowledgement of them. Oh, but Xavier, fear not, was placed on a pedestal. He was sitting right across from me, next to my mother, of course, meanwhile I was sitting between Alec and Jason. Gemma, who was sat next to Xavier, would bat her eyelashes at him in a sensual way, and I’m pretty sure that subtle emotion I was almost feeling could’ve been called disgust, it did look disgusting and it was hard to watch. Dad sat at the head of the table and Kevin on the other side of the table as he tried to make himself small, jumping at the stupidest of sounds. He was terrified and I seriously couldn’t understand why, but it was getting so bad, that as I bit into the crispy chicken wing, I decided to put him out of his misery. He visibly loosened up as a strong wave of calmness washed over him, meanwhile my skin tingled. Alec accidentally touched my wrist and a huge grin erupted onto his face. Mother noticed and her eyebrows furrowed as I sent him a wink, she was suddenly feeling worried. Probably because she thought I was trying to corrupt her youngest.

“Alec, you shouldn’t sit so close to Y/N.” Mother’s attention was suddenly on the two of us, I closed my eyes for a second, ready for whatever was about to come. Today I was easy to irritate and I could feel my heartbeat quicken, “How many times have I reminded you to stay away from her?!”

Alec placed his fork down loudly, and pouted at mom, “Does it matter? She doesn’t even have to touch us to use her powers. I think it’s whatever how close I sit to her.”

Savage Alec was always satisfying to hear and my eyes almost widened when I felt the satisfaction oozing from my father as he subtly looked at Alec with a proud, little, grin. Sometimes I was sure even dad was fed up with mom, and rightfully so.

“Don’t talk back to me, young man.” Mom snapped as she reached forward to put some more salad onto her plate. I felt something push at my leg from underneath the table and I slowly looked up at Xavier, knowing very well it was him. Out in the sunlight, I noticed the dark bags underneath his eyes. It made his complex look even more hollow. He probably wasn’t sleeping well due to the nightmares. I raised my eyebrow at him and he motioned towards the orange juice which was closest to me. Ah, he was just thirsty. He was awfully quiet ever since we sat down to have lunch and it was because he was feeling uncomfortable and guilty. My mother kept praising him for his good grades and exceptional behavior. Then started blabbering on about his father and how they met up last weekend for a barbeque and it was then when I felt a spark of anger. How could she sit there and talk about seeing his father, when he promised he’d come and visit Xavier today, just to bail out on him. It made Xavier feel horrible and the instant hurt that washed over him, knocked me breathless. Everyone looked at me weirdly when I managed to take a deep breath and it made me realize I was hyper-fixating on Xavier’s emotions so that I wouldn’t feel my family’s, which made me experience whatever he was feeling a lot more intensely. So I stopped doing that and everyone else’s emotions hit me like a roller-coaster, making my ears ring for a second. The warm hand on my wrist and the sudden calmness which washed over me made me smirk as Alec looked at me with innocent eyes.

“You felt troubled so suddenly,” He whispered to me as he pretended to reach for a napkin, “Sorry.”

I hummed and offered him a tiny smile as Xavier handed Alec the napkin. He took it with a huge grin and Xavier chuckled, looking at me again. I raised my eyebrows at him and before he could speak up, mother opened her mouth, again.

“The Poe Cup is coming up, isn’t it?” She sounded excited.

“Yes, in about a week.” She looked at me displeased that I didn’t let her precious Xavier answer her. I smirked at her and her jaw tightened as anger flared in her. She quickly averted her attention back onto Xavier and I heard Jason scoff next to me. Oh, how much he hated Xavier, it was quite hilarious. A freak like him stealing the spotlight from attention hungry Jason, who was desperately trying to get mother’s validation? Such a tragic story. One I can only laugh at.

“And what’s that?” Gemma spoke up sounding very bored, which she actually was. But as Xavier cleared his throat, she sat up straighter and her smile got sweeter. Oh, God, there was that feeling again. Fluster and happiness that Xavier’s attention was on her once again.

“It’s a game,” Xavier’s smooth voice explained and I smiled softly, I liked listening to his voice, it often brought even more calmness to my already numb state of being, “Where we race each other on water, in boats. There are no rules and the winner gets the cup and brings it to their Hall. Bianca has been on a winning streak for a few years now, it gets quite frustrating.”

“What is Bianca?” Alec perked up curiously.

“A siren.” I answered him and he nodded eagerly, “Which makes it really easy to cheat, they are in their natural habitat.”

“How can you cheat when there are no rules, sis?” Jason asked mockingly. My family was becoming more and more irritating, isn’t it just fantastic?

“It’s about having common sense, Jason. Just because there are no rules, you shouldn’t knock your adversary out.” Xavier snapped at my brother, the two now glaring at each other. Oh, their hatred was mutual.

“If I were to play, I’d knock your head off without resentment.” Jason snickered and my grip tightened on my glass of water. I didn’t like it when he disrespected Xavier. Xavier’s jaw clenched and he masked his anger with a quiet laugh as he looked at Jason with a sudden smirk.

“I bet you wouldn’t last a minute; you’d probably get knocked out while paddling.” I snickered and shared an amused look with Xavier as my brother’s hands turned into fists. You didn’t have to be an empath to feel the anger radiating off him. Now, that eased my irritation a bit, it was quite amusing.

“I’m afraid he wouldn’t be able to even sit in the boat—”

“Now that is enough!” My mother snapped, giving me a harsh glare. She gripped Xavier’s shoulder and sent a wave of calmness over him, pissing me off. I think my limits were tested today, and now I was actually mad at them. Why wouldn’t she let Xavier feel whatever he was feeling? Let him be angry and smug, did he hurt someone with that? No. I looked into my mother’s eyes as I allowed my powers to give back Xavier’s initial feelings, body tingling, as my mother gasped. Her hand flew off Xavier’s body and his eyebrows furrowed as he looked at my mother, realizing she was trying to influence him into feeling calm. The hatred my mother felt towards me would’ve made everyone else cry, but I couldn’t care less.

“Stop controlling everyone around you, mother.” I snapped, voice harsh and mask slipping for a second as I felt that terror wash over Kevin again. The calmness I induced in him didn’t last for long, I guess, “People were made to feel. So let them feel. Xavier’s feelings were justified, Jason is an asshole and we all know it. Maybe next time you should educate him better.”

“Your attitude is disgusting—”

“And questionable. Only freaks act like that.” My voice was raising, she didn’t want to cause a scene? Fear not, mother, I’ll cause a scene for you. “You should come up with something more original, something I haven’t heard before.”

My father was feeling uncomfortable and Xavier’s anger was amplified. Maybe now is the moment I tell you how much he dislikes my mother. I wasn’t the only good actress from this table, his acting skills are quite spectacular.

“This school was supposed to make you normal.” My mother snapped and my father’s head snapped into her direction.

“Eliza.” He warned, his voice deep as he glanced at me.

“I am normal in this school.” I fired back at mom, uncaring about the desperation in my father, asking me to stop adding fuel to the fire.

“Normal!” Mom exclaimed sarcastically, and her eyes fell on a short, dark-haired girl with two braids, pale skin and blank expression, as she just passed by our table. Our eyes met for a second and we nodded at each other in a silent greeting, but it was Xavier’s emotions which irritated me more. He was head over heels for Wednesday, it was quite sickening. The way he’d perk up around her and the instant happiness he’d feel at the sight of her. His quick heartbeat would make him blush sometimes and he’d even stammer. The most disturbing thing was the dreamy look in his eyes whenever he spoke about her, it was horrible, really.

“Look at that freak. You’re just like her, if she’s not worst.” Well, she shouldn’t have brought Wednesday into this. One, I enjoyed her personality. Two, she was nothing like me. Getting compared to her felt like an insult, or at least I imagined that’s what it is, since the sudden burst of anger in me made me stand up. I slammed my hands on the table, the loud sound made Ajax and his family look at us, as many other people.

My voice was low and menacing as I glared into my mother’s dark brown eyes. Terror overtook her body and I took the chance and amplified it, making her shake. Her lips were trembling and my father’s mouth fell open in shock as he stood up as well, thinking whether to approach me or not.

“She’s nothing like me, mother. Her feelings are the strongest I’ve ever come across. Don’t compare her to a ruthless monster like me.” Xavier was on his feet now too and he didn’t hesitate like my father did in approaching me, he was by my side in a second. He didn’t touch me, he just made sure to stay incredibly close. Kevin and Jason’s fear was fueling my rage and making me channel them more onto my mother, who had tears running down her cheeks now. Gemma was scared too, but she masked it well as she tried focusing on anything else but us. And Alec, he just watched without feeling much. He was actually happy that I was standing up for myself.

“St—stop!” Mom managed to whine out between clattering teeth and I started laughing, jumping a little when Xavier finally touched me. His hand came in contact gently with my cheek and he turned me away from my mother, his forest green eyes gazing deeply into mine. His calmness actually shocked me. My eyebrows furrowed as we looked at each other. How could he remain so calm in such situation? When he saw my mask slipping? Unknowingly seeing the real me?

“Y/N, please, stop it.” It was my father pleading with me, “I don’t want to force anything on you, so stop it right now.”

“You should teach her how to behave too, father.” There was spite in my voice as I looked at my mom disgusted before tearing away from Xavier and storming off. Enid, who was the purest person I got to know, jumped up from her seat when I stormed past her and wanted to take off after me, but thankfully Wednesday stopped her when we shared a glance. I wanted to be alone. I did not want to see my family for the rest of the day. I would not be seeing them off. Xavier will do that in my place, and I know everyone would be happiest if it was him instead of me. Well, perhaps not Alec, but I didn’t really care. He’d get over it. So I went to a place where I knew nobody would disturb me since only Xavier and I knew about it. His little shed, which he uses as his art studio. I had a few hours to spend alone.

Feet dangling off the table, I started counting the planks in the ceiling. The shed was a little wood construction. After laying down on a half empty table an hour ago, I was getting sleepy, so I started counting to keep myself awake. Around three hours passed since I left the courtyard and I was enjoying solitary. It was calm out here, the wind had picked up and it would rattle the branches of trees, leaves falling off. Chipmunks would run around from time to time, making the dry leaves crunch. Nature was quiet and after the accumulation of emotions, it was exactly what I needed. I was back to feeling numb, except this time, it felt emptier, hollower. Probably because I was drained and I needed a copious amount of sleep. The scrunching of leaves caught my attention again, but before I could think it was just another chipmunk, a wave of relief hit me. Somebody was approaching the shed, and it was none other than Xavier. He knocked on the door before he entered and he let out a long, tired, sigh.

“Hi.” He said quietly and awkwardly stood in the doorway of his own art studio. I smirked to myself, still laid out on his desk, still counting the planks.

“Don’t just stand there, it’s your own place.” I spoke up and it amused Xavier as he took slow steps, approaching me. I should’ve been disturbed by a few of his paintings, they were of a weird looking creature. I just found them really artistic and visionary. It had a different touch to it; some were foggier than others. As if he couldn’t see the monster clearly. And then there was the other painting, of Wednesday. Of course, it came as no surprise. Xavier, like I said earlier, was head over heels for her. Sickening.

“I see you’ve made yourself comfortable.” Xavier muttered as he leaned against the table, hip brushing my sock covered knee. I hummed as I felt his eyes on me, but continued counting. I was at thirty.

“Your empty table was begging me to lay down on it.” I said with a shrug and Xavier chuckled, looking around. I glanced at him and saw as his eyes stopped on the uncovered canvas. The one of Wednesday. His cheeks flared and he was suddenly embarrassed. He tried to compose himself and avoided looking at me, surely feeling my intense and teasing gaze on him.

“I assume you had seen off my parents, since you’re here now.”

“Correct,” he cleared his throat and crossed his arms in front of his chest, “Alec was quite disappointed he couldn’t say bye to you.”

“He’ll live.” I shrugged and sat up, back feeling a bit numb from laying on the harsh surface of the table for so long. I ran my fingers through my long black hair and looked at Xavier. He was still embarrassed and wouldn’t look at me, pathetic.

“I see you snooped around.”

“I merely looked at what was uncovered.” Well, that was a lie. But I figured I was trying to be funny…or sarcastic. I wouldn’t know which one, but Xavier took it as funny, as he chuckled.

“Right, like that one over there.” He pointed his finger at the one canvas’ of Wednesday and turned his head to look at me. One eyebrows raised, he acted as if he was hurt that I violated his privacy, when in reality he was just embarrassed and flustered. Of course, the thought of Wednesday made him feel many ways, and they all disgusted me.

“Oh, the one with Wednesday.” I said nonchalantly and he let his hand fall and rest on my knee, “I know you’re a great artist, but it surprises me how perfectly you were able to paint each detail. The facial expression is just…the same. Impressive.”

“I did get it pretty close, didn’t I?” His voice sounded dreamy and he looked at the painting of the girl. Xavier was feeling proud and love struck again. I rolled my eyes and pushed his hand off my knee before getting off the table. Xavier’s eyes widened just a little bit when I went to stand in front of him with my arms crossed in front of my chest. My proximity surprised him.

“You did, which is concerning.” I spoke up, faking confusion and worry, “You’ve been observing her really closely, haven’t you?”

“Sometimes.” Xavier shrugged, all of a sudden feeling uncomfortable. He looked into my eyes and pursed his lips, he didn’t want to talk about it, but I wasn’t letting go of the subject yet.

“I think, all the time, is more fitting, Xavier.” I chuckled and he rolled his eyes, crossing his arms in front of his chest, “You do know that she’s not into you, right?”

Xavier gulped and remained silent as he searched my face to see if I was sincere, which I was. I plastered on a blank expression and sighed loudly, as if I was tired of this subject. Which I truly was, but what I was about to tell Xavier, I haven’t told him before. Maybe it’s because today sucked and being alone for three hours hasn’t actually helped, but I was tired and annoyed by Xavier’s blind pinning on Wednesday.

“She doesn’t like you, Xavier. At all.” I continued speaking and his eyebrows furrowed, “When she looks at you, she feels nothing. Her heartbeat doesn’t quicken, like yours. She doesn’t get flustered, like you. She’s never embarrassed thinking she’s not looking her best around you. When you compliment her, it literally leaves her cold, Xavier. Sometimes she doesn’t even hear you. She prefers not paying attention to you and she finds you nagging and annoying. Sometimes even thinks you’re too soft, so that disgusts her. Maybe you should find somebody else, who appreciates you.”

Oh, Xavier was mad now. He was scowling and standing up straight, towering over me. I knew a few people who would’ve felt scared right now, but I just remained unmoving and unblinking as I looked up into his green eyes, which were glaring down into mine.

“And maybe you shouldn’t blabber around without being asked, Y/N.” Xavier snapped at me and I rolled my eyes.

“I just want to awaken you to reality and make you realize, that liking Wednesday won’t lead you anywhere.”

“How would you know?!” Xavier’s voice raised an octave and I clenched my jaw, I didn’t like being yelled at, “Are you a seer now too?”

“That’s funny coming from you.” I fake laughed, “You seem to forget I’m an empath, who feels the emotions of others!”

My voice raised a bit too as Xavier walked away, nearing one of the paintings of the monster. He was feeling hurt and angry. Well, someone had to wake him up to reality, right? I thought it was better sooner than later. It would only get harder later on for him to move on.

“And just because you’re an empath you can predict the future now?!”

“Oh, please, Xavier! She likes Tyler! A lot!” Xavier opened his mouth to say something, but quickly closed it. His eyebrows furrowed and he looked at me as if I told him I killed his puppy, he was beyond hurt. He felt betrayed, it almost made me laugh. It wasn’t even that serious, he just liked overreacting.

“Maybe you should get a life, Y/N, and stop being so obsessed with me!” I scoffed, but Xavier continued talking, “You follow me around non-stop and have no friends. Sometimes I feel like you’re forcing yourself onto me and the only reason we’re friends is because my father told me to keep you close to myself when we were eight, because you’re dangerous and you’ll hurt others.”

My eyebrows furrowed. That was weird, I knew nothing about that. I knew Xavier considered me his closest friend, but I never knew his father forced him into befriending me when we were little. Any normal person would be beyond hurt right now. I’m just surprised. Xavier has been lying to me for so many years, that’s quite impressive. Well…alright, maybe he didn’t lie, because his feelings were always genuine towards me. It’s just surprising from a command how far things got. I didn’t need friends, I was better off on my own, it was Xavier who needed me. And why did he stay around for so long if he knew I was dangerous? Maybe because I never let my mask slip around him, and made him believe I was a good person. That meant I was doing a great job. A smile spread onto my lips as dread oozed out of Xavier for the horrible things he said to me. I wasn’t affected, I didn’t actually care. If he’s had enough of me, I’ve had enough of him too.

“Y/N—” He quickly caught my hand when I went to walk by him, but I gently pulled it back and looked into his eyes, still smiling. I think this wasn’t the right moment to smile, but it was quite confusing. And it was making Xavier feel even worse. Seriously, we got here because I mentioned Wednesday, this guy needs to priorities himself. I walked off without a word, smile on my lips, leaving Xavier feeling horrible.

Three days passed since Parent’s Day. Three days since Xavier has spoken to me. I haven’t realized before how fast friendships could end. It was a weird feeling being alone all the time. It wasn’t something which made me uncomfortable, I welcomed it with open arms, it was just something new. I would always talk about random things that came unexpectedly to my mind to Xavier, who was always next to me. Now I had no one to talk to, so I would keep them to myself. I tried talking to a few students, but they were weirded out. It didn’t take me long at all to realize that the only reason I felt normal at Nevermore was because of Xavier. He never failed to make me feel human and normal. It was peculiar, really, and made me ponder about it sometimes when I got too bored with myself. Did I miss Xavier? Well, truthfully speaking, no. Would I have missed Xavier if I were able to? Honestly speaking, probably yes. But then I would’ve also been very hurt and maybe then there would be no turning back. But if I had actual feelings, than our friendship would’ve been genuine from the very start.

I blinked and shook my head, focusing on the painted target up ahead. It was pathetic how the thought of Xavier could distract me so easily from mundane things, like archery. I loved archery. My father taught me how to use a bow and arrow when I was ten. He is a hunter, so he’s quite experienced with various weapons. Sometimes, just to feel the terror and amuse myself, when dad took me out hunting with Jason, I would point my arrow at him and pretend to release it. He’d freak out and start crying loudly, alerting the animals we were close, therefore ruining my father’s hunt. He’d always get angry at Jason and when he’d explain the reason, our father would just shake his head, ask me to stop and use his power to calm Jason down so we’d continue the hunt. Fun times those were. I took another arrow and pulled it back, zoning in on the middle of the target. The red dot. Just as I released it, I felt a presence behind me. I was concentrating so hard that I failed to notice their aura and emotions until now. Remorse. Embarrassment. Guilt. Longing.

“Hello, Xavier.” I spoke up before he could. I felt him turn surprised that I knew it was him without seeing him. I was used to the feel of him and his emotions.

“Hi,” He cleared his throat, almost hesitating in saying my name, “Y/N.”

I took another arrow and pulled it back, releasing it as it hit the red dot again. There were two days until the Poe Cup. Enid and Yoko were doing their best decorating the boat. Enid was very excited and convinced this year we’d win. Ophelia Hall. And I had to agree, I consider myself a very competitive person, therefore I’d do anything to beat the other teams. No rules meant total freedom. And I loved freedom.

“Can I help you with something?” I raised an eyebrow as I took another arrow and concentrated on the target.

“I just want to talk to you—” I released the arrow and Xavier sighed, frustrated, he wanted me to offer him my undivided attention, “Please, can you stop for a second and look at me?”

I stopped for a second and turned around, to look at him, “Just did it.” My reply was cheeky, but Xavier found it annoying as he was dying to talk to me, before I could turn back around, he grabbed my wrist to stop me. His hand was warm and his hold familiar, he was always very gentle when holding me. I cleared my throat and lowered my bow, finally placing my attention on him. Xavier smiled timidly as he looked down at the grassy ground and cleared his throat.

“Can you get more awkward?” I rolled my eyes and Xavier gave me a look, asking me to shut up.

“Listen, I—I’m a horrible friend. I’m embarrassed and I hate myself for the things I told you.” Xavier’s eyebrows furrowed and the intensity of his honesty knocked me breathless again, “I should’ve never said something like that. It’s a lie! All of it—well, not the part where my father told me to befriend you, but I actually like you a lot! It was never forced or fake! I genuinely consider you my best friend, Y/N. And if you hate me, I totally understand and I deserve it, wholeheartedly! I’m an awful person and I don’t deserve you. If you won’t speak to me ever again I totally understand you and deserve it, but I—I just want you to know, that I am very, very, very sorry. And I hope one day you can forgive me, because not having you around for the past three days felt horrible and I realized how much you mean to me and I just—I don’t know, I don’t want to lose you, even though I probably did when I said those awful things.”

I remained blank faced just to antagonize Xavier more, prolong his suffering. It was really amusing. He was trying to hide the pain, but he couldn’t. If not his emotions, his eyes said everything.

“Well,” I sighed deeply, biting my lower lip, “I guess you’re very lucky that I even listened to that whole speech of yours.”

“Yes, I am!” Xavier exclaimed and suddenly took both of my hands into his and pulled me closer, gazing deeply into my eyes. What the hell? His gorgeous forest green eyes brought peace to my mind, in a normal scenario I could said, I probably missed them. “I am aware how lucky I am, Y/N, that you are standing here, looking me in the eyes after that day, and I just—”

“Okay, seeing you miserable is—” I took a deep breath and released it slowly, eyebrows furrowing, “annoying and quite pathetic, so shut up. I’m speaking now.”

I paused to let that sink into Xavier’s mind and he nodded eagerly. A spark of hope lit up in him, but his self-hatred was still stronger.

“Yes, you are a horrible friend for the things you said. And in a different scenario, I wouldn’t forgive you. But you’ve always been honest to me and our friendship was never fake, so I can’t be mad at you. Maybe your father saw something happening in the future and that is why he advised you be my friend, which was a wise choice if he stopped something horrible from happening. You are my best friend, Xavier, and I don’t want to lose you either. So, please, stop the self-loathing and smile. I forgive you…like, actually, truly, without feeling any resentment towards you, I forgive you.” I said all of that in one breath, meaning I had to take a deep breath by the time I was finished speaking. Xavier was speechless as he watched me smile at him.

“You—forgive me? Just like that?” He was confused. God, this boy could be so annoying. Anyone else would be kissing my feet for forgiving them just like that, but he’s here, questioning me after my half assed speech.

“Yes, Xavier, I do. You’re forgiven, now let me go.” I shook my head at him in an exasperated way, “I’m here for archery.”

“Okay, but I—I’m confused.” His eyebrows furrowed and I rolled my eyes, pulling my hands out of his hold as I reached down for my bow.

“About what? Seriously, just accept what’s happened and move on with your life.” I muttered as I went to turn around, feeling a bit irritated, but Xavier stopped me.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful—”

“I know,” I snapped, glaring at him, “I can literally feel it, Xavier. Remember?”

He just rolled his eyes and ignored my comment, “I’m grateful, however, I’m concerned.”

“About what?!”

“About how easily you forgave me!” He exclaimed and a few people glanced at us, Enid too. Lovely, create a scene Xavier. It’s not as if the whole school wasn’t already talking about our falling out or me, due to my stupid family.

“Why is that concerning—nevermind, you’re giving me a headache.” Xavier tsked and pulled me in closer, leaning his head down to be eye level with me.

“Because you like me…” The silence around the two of us was deafening. I think the right expression would’ve been: what the fuck?

“Uhm,” My eyebrows furrowed, “yes, because we’re friends?”

“No, no—” Xavier felt awkward and I was just weirded out, “I mean it in a way…like…you’re into me. You know?”

“So, you’re saying I’m in love with you?” I asked confused, because I think I was actually confused. And well, amused as well.

“No! Not in love! Just…you know…infatuated or something.” I hummed and bit my lower lip, trying to stop myself from laughing. Poor Xavier, “Are you…trying not to laugh at me?!”

Xavier semi-exclaimed and I finally burst out laughing, breaking our proximity as Xavier released me, finally. He just watched dumbfounded and confused as I laughed and laughed, almost getting teary eyed. Even my belly started aching!

“So, sorry that might’ve been insensible, but—” I cleared my throat once I was done laughing and straightened my stance, “I don’t like you like that, Xavier. Nor am I infatuated with you. We are best friends, and that’s it. Cross my heart and hope to die!” I held out my pinky for him, but he really didn’t want to believe me.

“Listen, it’s fine. I don’t mind it; we’ll still remain best friends—”

“Of course, we will!” I scoffed.

“No, listen to me, Y/N.” He was very serious, “Ever since Wednesday showed up you’ve been acting jealous from time to time. You hate it when I talk about her and I really didn’t want to believe you liked me in that way at first, but after our fight...which started from Wednesday and her not liking me back—I just figured you like me and it’s hard for you to accept that I’m into someone else.”

Now, just for effect, I would’ve loved slapping Xavier over the face. But again, that would be inappropriate. However, it might’ve slapped the illusion out of him! I was beyond irritated. I wasn’t in love with him! Or infatuated! Or jealous! I literally cannot feel!

“Xavier, stop embarrassing yourself. I’m incapable of feeling anything like that.” I snapped lowly at him, irritated. His eyebrows furrowed, but he seemed to disregard my words.

“Hey, I told you it was okay—”

“No, Xavier, I’m serious! I can’t feel a thing!” I huffed and turned around grabbing an arrow more forcefully than necessary, “Now, forget whatever stupid illusion you have made yourself believe and leave me alone. I’ll have class soon and I want to enjoy archery for a little bit longer.”

“Yeah, sure,” Xavier sounded unsure, he was confused, “I’ll see you in class.”

I hummed and listened to his footsteps as he walked away. Human emotions and illusions can be hilarious…and dangerous.

Our day ended with a thunderstorm. It was pouring down hard, the harsh wind rattling the hinges of my locked window. I didn’t have a roommate, my mother asked Principal Weems to place me in a solo room, so that I wouldn’t cause any kind of trauma to anyone from the Academy. It was quite irritating at first, but after a while I was content with staying alone. Saved me from having to deal with someone else’s emotions after a day full of just that. It offered me tranquility; therefore I could relax and thrive in the comfort of solidary. After taking a hot shower and combing my hair, I decided to sneak down into the Nightshades’ secret library and search for books which were written about empaths. I’ve been doing some research this past month, wanting to find out more about myself. I couldn’t be the only who was born like this, there certainly has to be at least one other person besides me. But so far I had been unsuccessful, and with a tired sigh, I grabbed the book which seemed most interesting and carefully, to not get caught, sneaked back up to my room. The lamp on my bedside table was the only thing illuminating my room, which wasn’t as big as Enid and Wednesday’s. You could define it the size of a bigger storage room, but it was perfect for one person. I made it feel homey, inviting, in case I had people over. I taped some green and red leaves against the walls, making it look like you were in a forest during autumn, creating the illusion of those falling on you. My desk was placed right underneath the big window. I had placed fairy lights all around it, and wall as well. A few sketches given by Xavier were taped above my bed on the wall, and I cut out quotes from books that I found interesting, or some would say, inspiring. Enid loved gifting stuffed animals to me, so in a corner of my room, I had arranged them nicely. Since I put them on display, she would always get happy when she saw them. The bookcase I had from across my bed was huge, reached from ceiling to floor and had a little bit of everything. All the books I owned, and little ornaments I gathered from around the world when I traveled with my family, and the jewelry boxes I bought not a long time ago from an antique store in Jericho. Next to it was my closet, and one of its door’s wasn’t working right, so I couldn’t fully close it. As you entered, right behind the door I had some plants which offered the room some fresh air and right next to it, in the corner, I had a dark green beanbag, placed in front of my body length mirror. Lightning struck again and illuminated my room as I finished reading the last sentence on the page. I glanced at the clock and saw that it was well past midnight, that would explain why I was seeing all the words blurry; my eyes were tired too. I sighed, closed the book and placed it on my bedside table, stretching my back, cracking a few vertebrae. Just as I reached for the lamp, to turn it off, there was a soft knock at my door. I turned towards it and pondered for a second who could be at this late hour.

“Yes?” I called out and my door was cracked open as Xavier stuck his head inside. Uneasiness and anxiety was racking through his whole being, “Come inside, Xav.”

He felt relief flooding through him as he swiftly slipped inside and closed the door, locking it. He was wearing his pajamas: grey sweatpants and a burgundy t-shirt. His hair was untied and the ends were still wet, meaning he showered before going to sleep. His eyes were a bit red and the bags still haven’t disappeared from underneath his eyes. Xavier looked very tired; he was in need of a good sleep at this point. There was another strike of lightning and Xavier jumped at the loud thunder following instantly.

“What happened to you?” I asked with furrowed eyebrows as I threw the blanket off myself. The lower temperature of the room suddenly hit me and I shivered. Wearing a tank top to bed, in the middle of autumn, probably wasn’t the best idea.

“Uh,” Xavier averted his eyes as he licked his lips, feeling a bit embarrassed, “I had a really bad—nightmare. And I couldn’t go back to sleep—not when I know that haunting creature will come back for me.”

I hummed and patted the bed next to me, asking Xavier to come and sit. He was quick as he got onto my bed, pulling the blanket over his bare feet. “These visions have been exhausting me pretty badly, I’m quite sick of them.”

“And the storm isn’t helping you either.” I added with a knowing smile; Xavier hated storms, especially the thunder. There was something very calming in the raindrops falling down and hitting the surface, I enjoyed it quite a lot if I got to stay inside.

“It really isn’t.” Xavier muttered and ran his long fingers through his soft hair as he glanced at me from the corner of his eye. I chuckled and leaned closer to him, resting my chin on his shoulder.

“Well, since I’m feeling generous—” I cleared my throat and Xavier was quick to smile, turning his head ever so slightly to look at me better, “I think you’re allowed to sleep next to me tonight.”

Xavier chuckled and I pulled away as he turned his head fully towards me, gazing into my eyes. He felt lucky to have me in his life in that exact moment and I saw his fingers twitching. There was this sudden new wave of emotion, something I couldn’t define, and it was getting more intense the longer I looked into Xavier’s eyes. He was also confused and his eyebrows were ever so slightly furrowed, but he quickly pushed the weird feeling away and became even more grateful that I took him in tonight. Besides, his fingers only twitched when he was holding back from hugging someone.

“It’s been long since we did this.” Xavier muttered with an amused smile and he looked around my room, his eyes stopping on the sketch he gave me this summer. We were out in the forest and found a flower clearing. While I was gathering some flowers for Alec, Xavier felt inspired and started drawing. The drawing was of me as I was leaning down and picking at a purple flower; his sketch was rather successful. I also admired it a lot ever since he gave it to me.

“Yes, because I thought you grew up and got over your fear of thunderstorms and the dark.” I teased Xavier as I pursed my lips and he rolled his eyes, pushing my shoulder playfully. The push wasn’t forceful at all, but I let myself fall onto my back. I huffed as hair got onto my face and stared up at the ceiling, feeling comfortable. I was really tired; I had a long day.

“Let’s go to sleep.” I spoke up when I realized Xavier remained sitting and just stared at me wordlessly. He seemed to snap out of his thoughts as he nodded and he gripped my blanket, pulling it over his body and mine as he laid down onto his back. We remained in silence as we stared up at the black ceiling for a few more seconds, nothing particular on our minds.

“Good night, Y/N.” Xavier whispered just as I reached out to turn off my lap. Darkness engulfed my room and my eyes needed a few moments to adjust to the darkness, which was lit by another lightning. Xavier turned onto his side, back facing me and blanket pulled up to his chin. He shifted around for a few seconds before settling down, inhaling and exhaling deeply. He got comfortable and I could feel his body releasing the stress he’s been feeling, letting his body and mind rest for the night. I bit my lower lip as I stared at the back of his head, his familiar scent, murky but sweet, made me feel weirdly tranquil. Without thinking much of it, I turned onto my side as well and scooted closer to Xavier. I pressed my forehead against his back and circled an arm around his waist, molding my body against his. We rarely touched each other, but falling asleep while cuddling always just felt…nice, sort of. Not that I could actually feel that.

“Good night, Xavier.” I whispered into his back and felt my eyes get heavier and heavier as the rain continued pouring and the lightning illuminated my room, thunder rumbling in the distance. Sleep came easier that night, to the both of us.

The day for the Poe Cup has arrived. And it was in full swing. Ophelia Hall managed to row through the river without hardships, all thanks to Wednesday, who stepped in for Yoko; she couldn’t make it today. I was more than sure that it was Bianca’s hand in it, but Wednesday, who also had the same hunch as me, remained silent and so we didn’t say a thing to Enid. We didn’t want to dishearten her before the race. Emotions were running high, adrenaline rushing through everyone as we were currently leading. We have pulled up with our boat to the deck of the little island, where our flags were. Wednesday was supposed to run for it, but she had hurt her leg the previous day, therefore the position was given to me.

“Go, run, Y/N, run!” Enid screamed loudly, excitement cursing through her veins as I got up and out of our boat. The team was cheering loudly for me, since we were leading, and with a chuckle I took off, just as Bianca’s boat pulled up to the deck as well. I didn’t want to disappoint Ophelia Hall, and Enid was so ecstatic about the whole thing, that I wanted to bring them victory. Even Wednesday, who obviously remained emotionless during the whole battle, was feeling excited and was enjoying the race. She was the most competitive one from our team and it made me grin. Enid having Wednesday and I in her team secured herself the victory. There were no rules, we could do anything. And I was more than convinced that Wednesday and I played dirty. Jogging through the forest, I heard another pair of shoes hitting the ground hard and realized Bianca was catching up. She was fueled with rage and desperation to get to the flag first and then row back to the shore. She really wanted to win, poor thing, I couldn’t wait to feel her despair once she loses.

“Hey, Y/N!” Bianca shouted after me, but I paid no attention to her as I started running faster. The latex suit Enid made us wear wasn’t very restricting and meanwhile it was a bit too much for my taste, I couldn’t say anything. The rest of the team were werewolves, besides Wednesday, and they wanted to represent that.

“Cat got your tongue?!” Bianca spoke up again, and I realized she was right behind me. I rolled my eyes and kept on running, feeling a weird change in the air. It’s like it got warmer, as if a sudden heatwave rolled in. Suddenly, Bianca was next to me and my legs felt a little sluggish.

“Oh, no, seems like your stamina isn’t as good as you imagined.” Bianca’s bright blue eyes stared deeply into mine and for a second, I felt mesmerized by them, “I think you should stop for a second and take a rest. Nobody would want you to get hurt or sick, Y/N, your health is more valuable to us.”

Before I could nod at her, I realized what was happening. I started laughing loudly and abruptly stopped, creating confusion in Bianca. She stopped too, to watch me with furrowed eyebrows.

“Well, I didn’t think it would be funny what I said, but you should totally just sit down now and wait until the race is over—”

“What you said isn’t funny, it’s what you’re trying to do is that makes me laugh.” Bianca was weirded out as she watched me pat my eyelids, I got teary eyed from laughing so hard.

“And what am I trying to do?”

“Your siren powers don’t work on me, Bianca.” Shock, is what she felt, and her eyes widened. It soon turned into confusion and I smirked as I walked up to her, getting all up in her face.

“To manipulate someone with your powers, the person should have emotions and feelings first. Next time, you should check who you’re trying to manipulate.” I was irritated, I always hated it when someone in my family tried to calm me down or make me feel happy. And Bianca tried controlling me with her stupid siren song power. I did not appreciate that, however, the confusion my words created in Bianca offered me enough time to jump on her. She yelped as my legs circled her waist and my hands went around her neck. Bianca’s eyes widened as I tipped her over and we fell onto the dirty ground, a loud grunt leaving her mouth. That must’ve hurt.

“You want to play dirty?” I whispered with a smirk, lips close to her ear, “I’ll show you dirty.”

And then I started squeezing. Bianca’s eyes widened instantly and dread started coursing through her as she desperately tried to pull my hands off her neck. Only problem for her was…that one’s intense emotions only give me more strength, therefore, she had no chance of getting me off herself. She was trying to desperately breathe as I was squeezing her airways, her nails digging into my wrists, as I kept smirking at her and squeezing harder. Relax, I wasn’t going to kill her, I just wanted to knock her out. When she started trashing her body around I got fed up and induced calmness into her, body instantly relaxing. Her wide eyes slowly started to close and I chuckled as she went limp.

“Don’t worry, Bianca,” I whispered and patted her cheek, “we’ll see each other when Ophelia Hall wins.”

I chuckled and as I raised to my knees, to get off her, a body tackled me to the ground. My left shoulder started throbbing as it took the fall and I groaned loudly, scrunching my nose at the uncomfortable body weight pinning me down. I looked up at Xavier, who was feeling conflicted and scared.

"What the hell?!" He exclaimed, eyes going to Bianca, who lay a few feet away from us, unconscious.

“Don’t worry,” I smirked, “I didn’t kill your lover.”

“She’s not my lover anymore, Y/N.” Xavier snapped, frustrated. This whole jester outfit made him look…quite handsome. The red lip paint stretched out his lips and when he smiled, the students around him felt creeped out. I didn’t have to look at Xavier to know that he was enjoying all the attention he was getting, I could feel his smugness. And there were enough people who were turned on by his outfit, that was the excruciating part that I wished to not know about. Plenty of girls were lusting after him, and even some guys too. Xavier and I shared a look before we each got into our boats and he was smirking at me. I fixed him with a glare and he bit his lower lip as he trailed his eyes over my body, holding back a laugh. He mouthed ‘hot’ to me and I flipped him off, straightening my back and turning my head away from him. But they were dressed as clowns, and suddenly, Ajax and him started fooling around, making annoying sounds. Enid was secretly enjoying the whole show and Ajax flushed when he noticed her looking at him, teenagers with their lovey-dovey feelings could get really disgusting. And Xavier felt triumphant when he caught Wednesday looking at him, except that she was just bored and judging his choice of outfit. I had to be honest, though, the colors he wore were a nice contrast against his skin color and brought out his deep forest green eyes.

“Don’t know how seriously I can take a clown, Xavier.” He huffed and his eyes went to Bianca before they fell back on me.

“Explain yourself be—because to me it looked like you were trying to kill her!” Xavier’s voice rose and he was panicking a bit, that’s amusing.

“And so what?” I raised my eyebrows at him and Xavier’s eyes widened.

“You—you can’t be serious, Y/N.”

“I already told you I have no feelings or emotions, Xavier, so why does it still surprise you?” I huffed and rolled my eyes as Xavier shifted a bit, finally taking his leg off my thigh, it was starting to go numb, “Get off now.”

Xavier shook his head, eyebrows furrowed, as he tried to understand my words, “No, not until you explain yourself, because I don’t understand you anymore.”

I sighed and stared up at the blue sky for a second before looking back at Xavier, who’s eyes were desperately searching for mine, so I gazed into his, “Fastest and easiest way to say it…I’m a sociopath. I have no emotions and the only things I can feel are basically irritation, anger, and rarely amusement. Everyone thinks I’m normal, because when I was eight, my father taught me how to act and react to the people around me. Besides, I’m an empath, I know what everyone fells around me, and it’s easy to act accordingly to it. People are very easy to manipulate, Xavier, even you.”

Oh, Xavier was very confused. His eyebrows were furrowed and he opened his mouth to say something, but I left him quite speechless, “Did you never notice I smile in situations which are quite inadequate?”

“I did—I just—I thought it’s because of your dark humor—” I chuckled and watched as Xavier tried to bring sense to all of it. I bet it was hard for him to understand me as he always thought I was just like everyone else. So I decided to show him. Numbness, my usual state of mind. Calm, and quiet. Xavier’s grip on me loosened a bit as I saw his eyes clear up, body relaxing a bit. I didn’t hold the emotion wave over him for long, I just wanted him to catch a glimpse of it.

“There…that is what it feels like to be me.” Xavier was, once again, speechless as he looked at me. He slowly shook his head and muttered a ‘no’. He was going through it, the denial and disbelief stage. It was fine, my father went through it too. Took him some time to accept it, however, I think it’ll take longer for Xavier.

Despite always expecting the unexpected, what came next is still something I never expected to happen. One would say I was shocked, which I probably would’ve been if able to feel. Xavier’s lips were against mine. He kissed me, out of the blue. What the fuck? Why? What—what is he doing?! And they started moving against mine, soft lips which tasted like berries. It took me a second to kiss him back, but just because I couldn’t decide whether it is alright to kiss back your friend, or you should pull away. And Xavier’s feelings weren’t a good guidance all of a sudden. He shut down. As if he built up a wall that I couldn’t sense through. I could still feel a hint of denial, but whatever the hell he was doing, was overpowering my abilities. And so I closed my eyes and pressed my lips more forcefully against his. One of his hand’s released my wrist and he cupped my cheek. He was still gentle, he always was, and despite me trying to dominate he kiss, I couldn’t. There was something in Xavier which always took the lead and so I gave up, following his natural rhythm. I was pretty sure that friends don’t kiss, but this didn’t feel so bad. He wasn’t a bad kisser and it was actually enjoyable. My hand, subconsciously, got tangled in his tied-up hair which wouldn’t bother his jester hat, but it was currently, quite irritating. I wanted to run my hands through his hair, but I couldn’t because of it. His hand slipped from my cheek to my neck and that was when it hit me. A wave of longing, quite powerful too, as Xavier pulled back for a small second. My eyebrows furrowed as I tried to understand what he was feeling, but he wasn’t sure either. So I leaned up and kissed him, less gentle and more needy as I gripped his nape firmly and pulled him closer, making him grunt. He released my other wrist and instead supported himself against the earth as my legs wrapped around his hips. Was I seriously making out with my best friend, on a muddy forest floor, during the Poe Cup? I probably shouldn’t even have allowed him to kiss me let alone make out with me, but Xavier’s emotions were intoxicating and it was making my head spin. His hand slipped back to my head and he gripped my hair, pulling away. Out of instinct, I wanted to follow his lips and kiss him again, but Xavier didn’t let me.

“And you have no feelings?” He asked breathless, chest rising and falling faster than before. I licked my lips as I looked into his eyes, eyebrows furrowed. His red lip paint got smudged and I was more than sure it was all over my face too.

“I don’t—” I cleared my throat when my voice came out raspy. We were in a forest, there are vines, right? “I don’t have feelings, Xavier.”

He shook his head feeling annoyed, “Well it didn’t feel like it when we kissed.”

I rolled my eyes and concentrated on the dead vines behind us, hanging off a tree branch, “Well…you’re the one to talk. Not only you kissed me, you were quite enjoying yourself too.”

Xavier got embarrassed and he gulped, averting his eyes from mine, “Well, I just—”

And I pushed him, my force taking him off guard as he fell onto his ass. The vines I have concentrated on so hard sprung forward and tangled around Xavier’s wrists, who was too shocked to react.

“What—Y/N—” When he realized I was tying him to a tree, he tried to stand up quickly, but I pushed him back down. He couldn’t even struggle against them, because with a flick of my hands, the veins clung onto him tightly, tying him.

“Sorry, Xav, I have a Cup to win.” I chuckled and winked at him as the vines secured my best friend against the tree, making him hiss when they tightened more around his body. Having basic telekinesis powers was quite handy in times like this.

“Y/N!” Xavier was feeling incredulous and just to tease him more, I walked up to him and leaned down. His eyes went to my lips first and I smirked, amused by his behavior and conflicting emotions.

“Bianca will wake up soon and well…it’ll take a few good minutes to get yourself untied, Xavier.” I smiled sweetly at him, “See you on the other side, loser.”

And to put the cherry on top, I pressed a swift kiss against his lips before taking off running towards the flags, which were visible from where we stood. I could hear Xavier’s frustrated screams, telling me to cut the shit and release him. Would I do that? Never.

After all, it was a battle with no rules, and I’d use that to my advantage whenever given the chance.

↳Part2

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miyuhpapayuh · 12 days

Text

butterflies.

After their close friends and family received the news about them being invited to the most anticipated event of the creative world, Mya, Isaiah and the rest of the group began planning for their awaited, highly anticipated trip.

The pair have also gotten closer over the last couple of weeks. Going out to dinner after work, drinks on the weekend, and her new favorite, sharing ice cream at Maggie's diner.

“Ooh!”

Currently sifting through the dresses that her mama had sent her, she lands on a red hot number with a slit up the thigh.

“I don’t know what event mama thinks I’m goin’ to, but…” she trails off, laughing to herself.

Pulling it off the hanger, she lays it across her bed and begins to tug at the bottom of her shirt when her music abruptly cuts off, followed by the ringing of her phone.

Peering over at it on her dresser, she smiles. “Oh, boy.”

Answering the call, she watches his handsome face come into view. His wide smile showcases itself, almost mirroring hers.

“I’m starting to think you’re watching me,” she jokes, keeping the top of her head in view as she reaches for the dress.

“Why?” he asks.

“Because you always call me when I’m in the middle of something,” she laughs.

“What’s so important, this time?” he mocks as she laughs.

“My mom sent me a bunch of dresses to try on for this damn ball, and I’m about to lose my mind, because I can’t decide on one,” she sighs.

“You need some help decidin’?” he asks, his chin in his palm as he stares at the partial view of her face and the ceiling.

“Uh…sure! Give me a second.” She moves away from the camera and begins to pull her shirt over her head, grabbing the dress and sliding into it.

“You cut my favorite song off this time. I just want you to know”, she grumbles, fidgeting with the dress.

“And what song was that?”

“I Think About Lovin’ You by Earth, Wind and Fire.”

“Hm. Don’t think I’ve ever heard it.”

“No worries. We’ll fix that,” she says, before picking her phone up from the dresser.

“Okay, you’ve fattened me up over the past couple of weeks, so don’t be too harsh.”

He chuckles. “I would never do such a thing.”

“Okay,” sitting it back down in an upright position, she pulls her hair away from her face and poses, “how do I look?”

“Wow,” his eyes wander over her curves, committing them to memory..

“You look so good.”

Her brows raise, the butterflies in her stomach doing somersaults.

“Really?”

“Absolutely,” he nods enthusiastically, making her cheese wide.

“Can I get a spin?” He asks, poking his lip out.

“I'll oblige you, this time.” She winks, taking her time twirling like a doll on display, giggling at his whistles.

“Damn girl,” he shakes his head.

“Alright, alright, let me go try on another one!” She says, moving out of frame to silently squeal and slip into another dress.

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After an hour and a half of making the object of her affection blush, Mya decides to have lunch with her mother at their favorite spot, Shoney’s.

As the chimes on the door ring, her mother looks up from her coffee and motions her over.

“Hey, baby.” She greets her daughter with a kiss on the cheek as she files into the booth seat, removing her jacket.

“Hey, ma. Man, it’s chilly out there today.”

“That’s why I texted you about a jacket even though you swear you don’t get cold.”

“Well, if I tell you that you’re right about me being cold, you’ll just gloat about it until you die so, no. I’m not cold.” She blinks.

“You are your father’s child.”

“That’s what the birth certificate says, yes.”

“Anyways, I brought you here to talk about all of your success, thus far. I’m very proud of you. How do you feel?”

A genuine smile spreads across her lips.

“Thank you! I’m so happy, honestly. I knew Savannah believed in me, but I won’t lie and say that I knew this was coming!”

“The Gold Ball is definitely a once in a lifetime experience, but you deserve it! You’ve been working hard for the past three years at Abstraction. It’s about time that your hard work paid off.” Her mother stresses.

“Yeah, I’ve heard that a couple of times. I believe it, I’m just still processing it all.”

“Well, good. Now, do I get to hear about this boy that’s got you all giggly, yet?”

Mya sighs, knowing it was coming.

“All of a sudden, I’m hungry. I’ll be right back.” She gets up from the table and heads towards the buffet line to fill her empty stomach.

With her mother being the relentless soul that god put her on earth to be, she heads over and behind making her own plate, all the while poking for information.

“Oh, come on! I’ve been patient with you, Nicole.”

“Ma, not the middle name. Don’t be dramatic.”

“I’m not being dramatic. You’re holding out on me.”

“I just wanna eat, ma. Let me eat and then I’ll tell you. Okay?”

“Fine.”

Twenty minutes, an entire rundown and a full stomach later…

“He sounds like a good ol’ southern gentleman. Is he cute?”

“Ma,” Mya grabs her phone off the table and goes to his contact picture. “Cute isn’t an accurate description.”

Sharing the phone, her mother’s brows lift. “Oh, wow. He’s one beautiful man.”

“I know!” She agrees with her eyes closed, making her laugh.

“So, you really like this one?”

“I’m starting to, yeah! Besides him being pretty, he’s such a sweetheart and he’s a computer nerd like myself. What more could a girl ask for?”

“Babies.” She answers.

Mya almost chokes on air.

“Huh?!”

“What?? I’m not getting any younger.. neither are you.”

“I’m only twenty-seven. I’ve got time, and your first candidate for me shouldn’t be a man that I’ve only known for about a month! Relax a little, please.”

“Is he going to the seminar, as well?” She asks, completely ignoring her daughter.

“Yes.” She purses her lips together, not letting it slip that he was also invited to the Gold Ball, knowing her mother would just get amped up all over again.

“Well, you’ll have some eye candy while you listen to those white people tell you about success.” She snorts.

“And you said my father was harsh on white people,” Mya laughs. “I think you took it over, ma.”

“Your father is a fool.”

“That’s a conversation for another day.”

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“You guys!”

Taylor kisses Mercedes’ and Mya’s cheek before sitting in the available seat, slinging her jacket over the back of the chair.

“Usually, I’d say you’re being dramatic with the kisses and shit, but it has been a minute.” Mercedes comments, sipping on his long island iced tea.

“It really has! I missed y’all.” Mya chimes in.

“Mhm. You been all hugged up with strong arms. I might even be a little jealous.” Mercedes says, making Mya’s cheeks flush red.

“Jealous? I thought you and Mark were kickin’ it?”

Taylor snorts. “Mark was just that. He couldn’t even protect ya girl!”

“I missed something??” Mya asks, both of them nodding at her, quickly.

“Chy, how ‘bout we went to the movies, last weekend and this big mountain of a man gets in ol’ boy’s face, tryna check him on some I’m more of a man than you are type of shit and Mark just stood there. Now, you know me! I was like you ain’t gon check him?? He lookin’ at me like it was my fault, cause then they start goin’ at it and that big bitch started callin’ me out my name and the motherfucker still just stood there! Lookin’ like he was about to fuckin’ cry. So I left.”

Mya’s jaw was on the floor.

“You gotta be kidding me! Has he tried to contact you?”

“Several times!” Taylor laughs.

“It’s not funny, Tay! That shit was embarrassing.” Mercedes grumbles. “But, yeah, so I’m single again. Maybe, for a while longer cause that was just too much for me.”

“Man, I’m sorry I missed that. I’m sure you could’ve used an extra shoulder to lean on,” Mya frowns. “Maybe, an extra crowbar.” She cracks.

“Girl, you’re fine, I want you to enjoy all you can of ol’ thick neck. When do we officially get to meet him, by the way?”

“As soon as you can call him by his name.”

“We know his name, girl. Mister muscles!”

“You play too damn much, Cedes. But, uh… how about this weekend? We can all go out for drinks or something.” Mya suggests.

“Ooh! There’s a new spot, uptown!” Taylor snaps her fingers, trying to pull the name of the place out of thin air, “Flavor! It’s so cute. They got great food, an open bar,” she nudges Mercedes, “and a lil common area, if you wanna dance a little.”

“Sounds like the spot!”

“I’m down.”

“What time? Seven sound good?” Mya asks.

“Yeah, that should be fine.”

“I’m so excited to harass your man.” Mercedes rubs her hands together like Birdman.

“Two things. One, he’s not my man,”

“Yet,” they both chime in, cracking up.

“And, two!! Don’t embarrass me, please.”

“We would never,” Taylor smiles.

“Oh, boy.” She shakes her head.

“No, but seriously, how are things with him?”

“He’s so dreamy, you guys.” She gushes. “These last few weeks have been some of the best. We just sit and talk or we’ll go dancing or we’ll take a walk in the park or we go out to eat— did I mention that he’s fine!?”

“We’ve seen his hunky ass, girl!” Taylor nods. “That’s so cute! You deserve it, honestly.”

“Yeah, those duds you were runnin’ with, back in the day couldn’t even hold a candle to Isaiah.” She smirks.

“It’s so refreshing to hear you not call him swole arms.” She playfully rolls her eyes. “And thanks, girl. Them whores weren’t good for anything besides a dick drop off.” The trio crack up.

“Hell, at least they could do that right!”

“That, they did.” She snorts, the memories flooding back to her brain, making her shiver a little. “Whew!”

“You stupid, man.” Mercedes pokes her in her side. “But, you just tell swole arms that we don’t play bout our Mya paya, okay?”

“Got it.”

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Sitting across from one another in the dimly lit ice cream shoppe, the pair share a double scoop of vanilla and good conversation.

“They’re gonna tear me up, aren’t they?” He asks.

“I told them to behave, but Mercedes takes that as a challenge.” She shakes her head, eating a spoonful.

He laughs.

“Well, they’re just making sure you’re in good hands.”

“And, am I in good hands?” She questions.

“Like Allstate.” He says, making her giggle.

“I knew it was corny, but I like making you laugh.” He smiles.

“It was cute,” she laughs, eating another spoonful. “Like you.”

“Damn, that’s a bump down from pretty.” He frowns, pretends to be hurt.

“Aw,” she sits her spoon down and rubs the back of his hand. “You are pretty, 'saiah!”

“Mhm.” He plays with her fingers. “Not as pretty as you.”

“I don’t know,” their fingers intertwine, “I think you have me beat.”

“No, no. I’m only this pretty with some scruff on my face. You’d change your mind if you saw me without it.”

“Shut up,” she laughs, “you mean your beard?”

“It barely qualifies, since it's growing back in.”

“C’mere lemme get a better look.” She motions him towards her, so she can take a closer look at his handsome face.

She chances, softly gripping his chin, and turning his face in her hand to better inspect him.

“Looks good to me.”

“Yeah? Come a little closer.”

She obliges, chewing on her lip. Their faces are just a few inches away from each other. Squinting, she nods, grazing his “scruff” with her thumb.

“Still looks good to me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,”

Grasping her chin with his free hand, he closes the space between them, kissing her like he’d been wanting to all day.

Melting into the kiss, their lips mold together as if they were long lost lovers.

Pulling away, he licks his lips. His hand still cupping her chin, her eyes reopening to find him already looking at her.

It was her turn to be flustered.

“What was that for?”

“I’ve wanted to all day. Thought it was the right time.”

“Hm… your timing is impeccable.”

“Yeah?” His brows raise.

“Mhm.” She smirks.

“Another pat on the back for me?”

“Shut up,” she laughs.

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Sprawled out on his couch, the pair sit up under one another, watching a movie.

“Are you comfortable?” He asks, his hand is at the base of her neck, strumming soothing circles with his fingertips. She’s nestled comfortably between his legs while his heartbeat drums a lullaby against her ear.

“This TV’s gonna be watching me in a minute,” she says, her eyes getting lower and lower. His low chuckle vibrates through her before she continues. “I saw my mama today, by the way. We talked about you.”

His ears perk up at the new information.

“Oh did you, now? What y’all say?”

“Said you're cute, you better treat me right and then something about grandchildren.” The end makes Isaiah sputter out a cough, and she barely conceals her laughter. “I’m not sure, I kinda tuned her out at that point.”

“Well, she doesn't have to worry about me treating you right, I'd be an idiot not to,” he says, tickling her neck, making her immediately scrunch up.

“Stop!,” she squeals, reaching back to smack his hand, “she also said she’d like to meet you. I politely told her to slow her roll.”

“I don’t know, mama. I think I’d like to meet the lovely woman that raised my favorite girl.” Her cheeks heat up, and she’s grateful she isn’t facing him.

She faux muses for a moment before responding. “Well in that case, I may be able to get something arranged.”

The conversation makes Isaiah aware that he needs to spend some time with his own mother. He makes a mental note to call her come morning.

The rest of their evening is spent with more playful teasing between binging reruns of Living Single.

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Isaiah makes good on his promise to call his mama that following morning as soon as he settled in at work. They made plans to meet up with each other that same day during his lunch break.

“I’ll miss you, swole arms. We’ve been having lunch together for months now.” Mya jokes before they part ways for the hour.

“Wait, what—” he stops mid thought before answering his own question. “Mercedes and Taylor, huh?”

“Mercedes and Taylor,” she confirms with a laugh.

“You know I haven’t officially met those girls, and I don’t think I like ‘em too much,” he teases with a laugh.

“They’re harmless for the most part. Anyway, have fun with your mama. I know she misses her boy.”

“Thanks, Mya.” He catches her off guard by stealing a quick kiss to her lips while there are no eyes on them.

By the time she can get her bearings, he’s gone, and she has to flush the blush away from her cheeks before anyone could grill her about it.

A five minute ride later, and Isaiah is seated across from his mother at Lorraine’s, a soul food staple in the neighborhood.

They’re catching up over fried catfish, greens, and yams.

“Honey, I thought the Lord was gonna come down on his gold chariot and snatch us up before I got to see my baby,” she teases.

He can’t help laughing at his mother’s dramatics. “I know it’s been a minute since we’ve seen each other, mama. I’m sorry.” He puts his free hand over hers, having genuinely missed her.

“Oh baby, it’s alright. I know you’re at that big, fancy company living out all your dreams and making your mama proud. I couldn’t ask for more from you.”

Emotions he didn’t plan on feeling on a Friday afternoon caused his throat to become tight. He cleared it, gently squeezing her hand. “Yeah,” he agrees softly, so his voice doesn’t betray him.

“So,” she starts, switching topics, “tell me more about this girl you were going on about earlier. Mya, right?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He smiles with his whole face.

“Hmm. The way those eyes lit up like Christmas when I said her name just now tells me she’s special, ain’t she?”

“You can definitely say that.”

“Special enough for a couple grandchildren? You know I just hit 35 and the clock ain’t tickin’ backwards.”

He’s so stuck by that “grandchildren” word, he completely misses that she subtracted roughly 15 years from her actual age.

“Boy, close your mouth before you catch a fly. I’m just messing with you. A little bit.”

“Mama, you are entirely too much. Let me get to know her first, maybe learn more than her favorite flower, before you start talking about kids.”

“Fine,” she says, rolling her eyes jokingly. “But tell me what you do know about her.”

“Well,” he takes a moment to gather his thoughts together, “she’s so pretty, mama. I tell her that all the time. Maybe too much, but she doesn’t seem to mind. She’s really sweet. I mean, give you a cavity kind of sweet,” he pauses, chuckling at how corny that sounded, even to his own ears. “She makes me laugh.”

“Honey, you laugh at everything.” He’s interrupted by his mother’s gentle observation.

“I know that, lady. But with her, it’s a deep, from the gut kinda laugh, ya know?”

She acknowledges her son with a nod, silently encouraging him to go on.

“And she’s really talented. Like, an out of the box type of talented. And ambitious. Crazy ambitious. All the time, she tells me the things she wants outta life, and I’m watching her get it in real time. I love that.”

“Well, she’s already a country mile ahead of that last one, I tell ya that. What was her name again, Jezebel?”

He almost loses the sip of lemonade he took.

“It was Janaé, mama.”

“Ain’t that what I said? Anyway, that thang had your nose open like 7/11. I was starting to worry about you, boy.”

“Well, I like to pride myself on making better decisions now, mama.”

“Thank the Lord for small wonders,” she continued to tease him.

“I’m starting to question whether or not you love me, old lady.”

“Oh cut it out. I’m just teasing. You know I love my baby,” she says while pinching his cheek.

“Come on now, ma.” He gently removes her hand from his face, chuckling.

She sighs, looking at how happy her son looked at the moment. She debates whether or not she should relay the piece of information that could prove devastating for his progress.

“What’s on your mind, mama?” he asks before she can decide.

“ I wanna talk to you about something.”

“Is everything okay?” He sits up in his seat, concern already etching its way into his features.

“Everything’s fine. Don’t you worry.” She takes a moment to carefully choose her words. “It’s about your father.”

As soon as the sentence leaves her lips, all trace of emotion falls from his face as he sits back and downs the last of his drink.

“Hm. He finally die?” he asks coolly.

She knows she shouldn’t have been taken aback by such a response, but she found the sharp turn of his mood to be slightly jarring, even now.

“No, that’s not it.”

“Evil never really does die, I guess,” he says with a shrug.

“So what is it?” His gaze stays focused on the view outside of the large window, a technique learned in therapy to keep himself grounded.

“He’s been asking about you. Asking to see you. I wanted to give you a head’s up beforehand.”

“A head’s up?” he bites back a laugh. “I'm not gonna kill the man.”

Not that he’s never considered it.

March-ish, 2006, Dallas

A fourteen-year-old Isaiah polishes off the last of his breakfast, placing his dishes in the sink before heading off to Lincoln Jr. High. His mother isn’t there to see him off once again, having had to work her fourth double this week at Halifax Memorial Hospital, while his father had never seen him off, not once.

Third period English rolls around, and he receives a recent term paper face down. A big, red D is at the top right hand corner with a note saying “See me after class”. He sighs, rolling his eyes to the ceiling.

The bell rings, and his classmates file out, but he lags behind.

“Come sit down.” Miss Braxton motions to the empty seat nearest her desk.

He follows her instruction and plops down into the seat.

“Care to explain this unfocused, uninspired, half-attempt of an essay you decided to turn in?” she says while looking over the rim of her glasses.

He replies with a shrug of his shoulders and a barely audible “I don’t know.”

“Listen, I expect this kind of work from some of my students, but not you, Isaiah. I’ve seen what you’re capable of, and this,” she picks up the paper, waving it slightly for emphasis before continuing, “is nowhere near close. Remember, I’ve been your teacher since you were little, in the first grade always asking me for a new book to read. I see you doing big things and this lackadaisical attitude you’ve taken on isn’t going to get you there.”

A silence falls over the room as her words take a moment to run through his head.

“Um, imma be late for fourth period, so I gotta go,” he says, wanting to run far away from this conversation.

“You’re free to go. Don’t forget what I’ve said, okay?”

He nods, booking it for the door.

Harshly, he wipes at the tears just making their way down his face. He curses himself for his feelings.

“Well, if it ain’t my favorite punk ass bitch. Doing what he does best. Fuckin’ cryin’.” He’s greeted by the school bully, Darius, a thorn in his side for almost a year now.

“Your daddy ain’t teach you how to be a man yet? Oh I forgot, you don’t even know who the fuck he is. Just you and your mama. I see why you’re such a bitch.”

“Darius, don’t fuck with me today,” he warns, trying to get past the boy.

“Or what?? You gon’ run and tell mommy on me? I’m so scared. Fuck outta here,” the bully retorts, blocking his path and pushing the smaller boy in the center of his chest.

Without much thought, Isaiah cocks his hand back and clocks Darius directly in his eye. The blows don’t stop once he’s down though. He continues to rain blow after blow to his face while he’s crouched over his fallen form shouting profanities the entire while.

It takes two grown male teachers to finally pry him off the boy. He needs to be damn near dragged to the principal’s office.

His mother is less than pleased when she’s called out of work due to her son practically mauling the school bully.

Little did she know, that was only the beginning…

He sighs, coming back to the present moment.

“I didn’t think you would, son. I just thought it might be helpful to know,” she responds, to which he simply nods.

“Listen, whatever you decide to do, baby, mama’s got your back.”

She places her hand over his and squeezes, which causes him to look back at her. He softens immediately, seeing his mother’s eyes shine with nothing but love and concern for him.

“I know.”

“Good.”

He uses the drive back to the office to compose himself into the man that his coworkers recognize.

Mya notices something off when he walks back into the office. To the untrained eye, he looks fine, but there’s a look in eye that she can name, being all too familiar with it herself.

After a meeting she could barely pay attention to, she’s at the end of her workday, still consumed by what could be wrong with her normally cheerful coworker.

Deciding not to press him about it, she instead extends an offer to spend the evening with her.

“Hey,” she gently catches his attention as he’s walking toward the large, glass double doors.

He turns, giving her a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Hey Mya. What’s up?”

She shifts her weight, almost feeling nervous.

“Yeah, I just wanted to ask you if you wanted to come over to my house...if you could use the company. I know I could.”

He doesn’t answer right away, and she feels her heart start to sink.

Seconds later, though, she’s gifted a smile much more genuine than earlier and she visibly relaxes.

“I’d love that.”

Extending his arm to her, she accepts, linking them together as they walk out of the building.

A smooth playlist curated by Mya plays in the background as the pair lounges on her porch swing.

She’s upright while Isaiah's head is in her lap.

There are no words spoken between the two of them, but the silence is comfortable.

She uses her slippered foot to softly rock them.

His eyes are closed while she runs her fingers through his soft coils.

Her gaze, however, is focused on the group of little brown girls across the street who are out playing jump rope.

The clack of their beaded hair, coupled with their laughter brings about a feeling of warmth.

“What is it that makes a man not want to be a father?”

Her eyes darted down toward the man in her lap, whose eyes are still closed.

Her fingers continue their relaxing pattern across his scalp, unsure of how to answer that.

He continues, “It’s like they don’t know or don’t fuckin’ care about the broken pieces they leave behind when they do that. And you know what the cold part about it is?”

She remains silent, knowing the answer is coming.

“He’s not even responsible for fixing the shit. Making sure I never turned out like him was 100 percent up to me. Tell me that’s not fucked up.”

He goes quiet for a moment, but she doesn’t feel compelled to break it.

She’s stunned by this new piece of him that he’s shared with her with no provocation from her.

“My father wants to see me. Wants to talk,” he finally reveals after several more moments of silence.

“How do you feel about it?” She asks cautiously.

There’s a pause before he responds, “I don’t know.”

“Well… until you know how you feel about it, I wouldn't make any final decisions. Process it first, you know?”

A sort of huffing sigh leaves him, before silence takes back over.

The slight, late October breeze blows over them, lightly tousling her hair across her face.

She removes the random strands, still maintaining her rocking with her foot.

“How would you handle this situation?” Isaiah asks, his eyes now open and looking up at her.

Not answering right away, her rocking stops. Instead it turns into a steady bounce with the opposite foot, as she tries to conjure up words for a moment such as that.

“I wouldn’t know. I haven’t talked to my father in years. Guess I’d have to process it, too.” She laughs, but it’s far from humorous.

Her eyes stay trained on the pastel numbered boxes from the hopscotch game the girls had played earlier, keeping her emotions at bay.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to make this about me.”

“You didn’t. It’s okay.” He sits up, his softened gaze on her reddened face.

“I guess we’re more alike than we realized.” He offers a laugh, which she returns. Yet, her slight frown gives her away.

“I’m sorry you have to go through this. It ain’t right.” She shakes her head.

“It’s not your fault, don’t be sorry. I’m just glad you listened. That was tough to share.”

“I understand.” She finally looks in his direction.

The lingering emptiness in their eyes mirror one another, making them feel far too vulnerable.

“Can I take you up on that hot toddy you were talking about?” He asks.

She laughs, holding out her hand for him to take.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

#miyuhpapayuh #poc writers #blackwriters #black romance #honeyff #mya x isaiah #southern love

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googleitlol · 3 months

Text

So.

This might be the longest one I've posted (it’s a little longer than my Doubles chapter), and I cut a couple things for spoiler reasons, so DAMN!

This chapter might jump around a bit because of the cuts, but I hope it's still enjoyable! Dove just has the time of her life in this one, a real fluff piece 😃👍

CW: blood

Dove Masterlist:

Chrysanthemum

The coast is clear, you’re good to go.

Not a single sound echoes down the long halls of the palace, all occupants fast asleep beneath the pale moon, save for the guards. You close the door to your room, careful not to be too loud as you sneak through the palace. Looking down at the note in your hands, you follow its directions. It lists various turns to take, and you are mindful of the presence of any guards patrolling the area as you take them.

After coming back to your room for the night, you found a note from the prince on the foot of your bed. He likely wants to reconvene so you can tell him what you’ve learned thus far. Hopefully your investigations of the day will be helpful.

You peer around a corner, waiting for a pair of guards to leave the area before you can continue on your route. As you wait, something taps you over your shoulder. You quickly spin around, a familiar stone monkey standing behind you with a lazy smile.

“Woah.” He gives you a bit of a surprised look when you turn, his gaze studying you for a moment. You give him an expectant look, and it’s enough to help him find his words again. “Uh, good news, Dove. Master’s papers are now recertified!”

“Shh!” You whisper, holding your breath as you glance back to see whether or not he was heard.

Once you see that they are no longer in sight, you let out a sigh of relief. Wukong frowns, but lowers his voice nonetheless. “What does it matter if they hear us? You don’t have to be here anymore. We can fly back to the post house and meet up with the others, we can be out of this kingdom before sunrise.”

“Not yet.” You glance away, double checking the hall is clear on both ends

“What?” He laughs a little, confused. “Not yet? With how you looked at me the other day in the post house, I thought you would want to get out of here as quickly as possible.”

You focus your gaze back on the monkey demon once you know you’re both in the clear. “I just need another day or two.”

Wukong scoffs a bit, crossing his arms. “You just might be married by then, these royal types put wedding arrangements together rather quickly.”

“Just a few more days, then I can leave.” You explain before turning away to continue your route.

“Why?” The sage asks from behind, sounding genuinely puzzled as you look back down for where to go next. You don’t get the chance to finish before a tail snatches the paper from your hands. “Are these… directions?”

You look back to see his almost perplexed expression. “What is this?”

“Jian Yu is expecting me, Wukong, this is important.” You do your best to explain, patience running thin rather quickly as you snatch the note back. The day had been a long one, and you don’t feel in the mood for your companion’s pushy curiosity.

You go to move before Wukong jumps in front of you, brows pulled into a deep frown. “You’re meeting the prince? At this time of night?!”

“Stop, it isn’t like that.” You roll your eyes, offended he could even come to that conclusion.

“Meeting your soon-to-be-husband in the dead of night?!” He continues to voice his unneeded concerns, shaking his head before taking your hand to lead you away. “If I knew you would actually fall for this guy, I would have opted to decline the proposal and fight our way out of this place!”

He can barely take you three steps before you pull your hand away. “Would you quit it?!” Wukong looks back at you with a huff as you speak, clearly as irritated as you feel. “He wants to know what I’ve found. I can’t leave yet because I might have found the one trying to kill him.”

Monkey scoffs with a grin, his tail coiling around his leg. “Why is he asking you to do it? Doesn’t he have guards for things like that?”

“He’s paranoid. If you’re mortal and your life is at a constant risk, you’re paranoid.” You rest your hands on your hips, giving your friend a glare. “He says he can’t trust anyone in the palace, and I don’t blame him.”

“So he gets his betrothed to do his work for him?” Wukong jeers, and you roll your eyes.

He doesn’t get it, you don’t expect him to. “I could care less about your feelings on this matter, I am seeing this through.”

“But why do you need so long?” He prods, his eyes narrow with agitation. “You said you know who his would-be killer is, just tell him and we can go.”

You shake your head. “It’s only a suspicion. Besides, even if I am right, I would like to stay and see to it that they are properly dealt with. That way, I will know Jian Yu is safe.”

You’re met with silence, Wukong’s eyes burning into yours. A song of crickets is all that fills the silence for a moment, Monkey tilts his head, frown deepening. You glare back, refusing to give him even an inch.

Then his eyes soften. He studies your face for a moment, brow still worried. “Are you okay?”

The question takes you off guard. “Fine, but I’m keeping the prince waiting. So if you will excuse me–”

“You don’t look fine.” He says, and you pause. “Look, I get it. You want to help this guy. That princess, demons in disguise, your first instinct is always to help them. And, you know, that’s a good thing. More people should be like that– I know Tripitaka wants my brothers and I to be more like that… but this is different.

“Just two days ago, you wanted nothing to do with this prince. Now, it’s like you are obsessed!” He reaches for your hand again, more gentle this time. “You look as though you’ve had no time to sleep, determined to have this task seen through.”

“Of course I am determined! I won’t just let him die.” You pull your hand back, stepping away from the sage.

Wukong clenches the hand he reached out. “I’m not saying you do that.”

“It’s what I would be doing if I leave now.” You glower. “I can save him, so that is what I will do.” Without another word, you turn on your feet and leave him where he stands. He doesn’t get the chance to say anything before you’re gone.

What does he know, anyway? Obsessed? Is that what he calls it? Yes, you want nothing more in this moment than to help Jian Yu, but anyone in your position would feel the same. How else are you meant to feel when a person asks you to save their life? How can a person turn their back at a request like that? What does Wukong know, anyway?

It doesn’t matter, what does is getting your information about your suspects to the prince. You follow the rest of the note’s directions carefully, avoiding the guards until you reach a door. As per the instructions, you knock on the frame of the door, your eyes flicking to and fro to ensure you’re neither seen nor heard.

The door slowly opens, the prince peering out to see you. “I was beginning to worry you would not come.” He smiles, looking down the hall himself to see if you were alone.

“I apologise for keeping you waiting.” You look down, tucking the paper into your sleeve now that you no longer need it. “I believe I have information on who may be the one who wants you dead.”

“Not out here, come inside. I want to make sure we are alone.” He opens the door fully, allowing you to enter what appears to be his room. With a quiet thanks, you let yourself into the space. You try your best not to overreact over how large his room is, reminding yourself there is a reason for your visit. You have no time to gawk over space in a room.

With a quick breath through your nose, you look back at the prince. “I believe there are two suspects. The first is the new palace gardener, Chun Hua–”

“It can’t be her.” He quickly dismisses the idea, moving past you to sit back on his bed.

You frown at his quick response. “You haven’t even heard my reasoning yet.”

“She has not been here long enough to be the one we’re looking for.” His reasoning makes you frown.

She was employed for weeks before the assassination attempt. “What do you mean by that?”

Jian Yu sighs, looking down to his hands that rest on his lap. “I’m sure you heard me chastising that man for giving me those flowers.” You hum a bit in acknowledgement. That was one way he could put it.

“My mother…” He pauses, eyes on his now clenched fist. “…she passed away early in the spring.”

Your frown lessens at that, his own hardening. “I am sorry to hear that.”

“She was killed in her sleep, that same flower was left at the foot of her bed by whoever took her life.” He continues, understanding finally dawning over you. When he told you this was about more than his own life…

It was really for her. “That’s why you wanted me to find whoever sent you the flowers?” You ask, the prince nodding in response.

“The arrows shot at me were laced with aconitum, the same toxin from that plant. I am certain that our killer is the same one who took my mother’s life. Chun Hua has only been employed here for the summer.” He explains, dismissing her as a suspect.

You hum a bit in thought. “Perhaps my second suspect is the one you’re looking for, then.” You begin telling him of your findings, what the gardener had informed you of and who the true culprit may be.

After discussing and coming to a consensus on who the attacker really is, you turn to leave. “Let’s reconvene in the morning. I have been neglecting my sleep and if we plan to bring this person to justice, I should be at my best.”

Before you can reach the door, the prince catches your hand. You look back at him to find the man smiling. “Thank you, for everything.” His eyes, though melancholy, are hopeful.

“I feel like for the first time in a long while, I don’t have to be afraid.” The gesture takes you aback, the optimism on his face chipping at your heart like an axe to a tree.

All you can manage is to give him a curt nod before leaving the room in a rush to get back to yours. When he looks at you like that– you can’t even bear to think about it. Why does he have to look so much like him? Why can’t you stop seeing his face?

By the time you make it back to your room, you can barely keep it together. Once inside, you lean against the door. You slowly slide down, and despite the hours you’ve spent following trails and hiking up mountains, the short run back to your room has left your knees weak and each breath laboured. You’ve seen him enough in your dreams, why must you now see him in the waking world too?!

Why must he look like him? You can barely look him in the eyes for ten seconds before feeling your stomach twisting into knots. He tells you he feels safer now and all that reassurance does is make you wish you could crumble into nothing but ashes. Tears start to prick at your burning eyes, an unfortunate side effect to your swirls of emotion.

You didn’t want any of these feelings, but what else can you do? You can’t leave as long as he’s in danger, your job is not yet finished here. With any luck, the culprit will be apprehended and you can be on your way. You won’t have to torture yourself with this any longer. He can be saved, you can save him.

A rush of air passes through your lips, in and out as you take in a deep breath. If only that gift of yours could work on yourself, maybe you wouldn’t be feeling this way.

After taking a moment to regulate your breathing, you rise back to your feet, away from the door. Your feet move without you telling them to, almost in a daze as you stop at one side of your bed. Wukong may be right, you do feel exhausted, just a little drained. Taking a seat, you lean back on the bed, arms propping you up. As you lean back, your fingers brush against something on top of the covers, and you glance to your side with a frown. Strange, you didn’t leave anything on the bed.

The violet petals on your sheets make your frown deepen, a monkshood flower sitting atop your bed.

You don’t even have the chance to move before a hand wraps around your mouth, pulling you back while an arm wraps around your torso. Your hands fly to the hand covering your mouth, the attacker pulling you across to the other end of the bed as you kick to find any sort of grip, your shouts muffled.

The attacker stands back, pulling you off the bed and lifting you up so that you can’t reach the ground. “You never should have gotten involved, woman.” A low voice snarls before their hand removes itself from your face.

Your sharp intake of breath is cut short as you see your assailant hold up your own dagger, your bow and quiver still disposed of by the folding screen on the other side of the room. How long has this person been here? Did they wait for you?

The attacker swings down just as you quickly dig your elbow into their side. They recoil, grip loosening before you throw your head back to collide with their own. You’re able to free yourself as they reel back from the hit, cradling their head from the pain.

Facing your attacker now, you find it to be the same cloaked intruder from the day you arrived. The attacker recovers quickly, holding up your dagger and lunging for you again. You just dodge out of the way, blocking their wrist with your arm before parrying and pushing them away. You take the opportunity to kick them in their chest, pushing them to the ground and giving you a chance to run for your bow.

You turn to run, but trip as the attacker pulls at your hanfu. You fall, letting out a shout of pain as your chin collides with the hard wooden floor. There’s hardly a moment to blink before you’re grabbed by your shoulder and flipped onto your back.

The attacker hovers overtop of you, they almost plunge the dagger into your chest before you grab their wrist with both your hands. Your arms shake as they fight to push the blade down and you attempt to guide it away from your body. The attacker grunts, forcing your dagger closer and closer.

They start to overpower you, your strength slipping as the blade digs into the fabric of your clothes. The weapon sinks into your shoulder, the cool metal shooting a searing hot pain through your body. A cry of pain tears through your throat, the blade twisting into your flesh.

You let go of their wrist, screaming as they drive the dagger in further, before pulling them close enough to connect your fist to their jaw. The attacker stumbles back, falling to their side and taking the dagger with them. You’re able to push past the pain enough to sit up and shuffle back, enough to reach your bow.

Now armed, you reach for an arrow from your quiver before your assailant rises to their feet. You draw back the string, but before you can fire, a flash of ochre rushes past from your window. In the blink of an eye, Sun Wukong has the attacker pinned to the wall, his arm against their throat.

He’s scarily silent as he takes his staff from his ear to extend it, and you quickly stand. “Wukong, wait! You can’t kill them!” Whoever this is, they are no demon, and Tripitaka will never stand for his disciple to kill a human, no matter how guilty they may be.

The Monkey King snaps his attention to you, his hardened gaze softening when he does. Dropping his staff, he only turns back to your attacker to knock them out with a hit to the head. The assailant goes out cold, and you feel yourself begin to sway on your feet. Sun Wukong catches you before you can fall back into your folding screen, his eyes quickly finding the growing splotch of red over your shoulder.

You do your best to apply pressure over the wound with your hand, Wukong doing the same as he looks down in worry. “Dove, are you alright? Did they hurt you anywhere else? Is there any more blood?” He checks you over for any other injuries but you can only shake your head.

“I… I’m okay.” You pant, looking back at the unconscious attacker on the ground. With the threat neutralised, it takes you a second to catch your breath.

They really tried to kill you. If they’re trying to get you, that must mean they want you out of the way so they can get rid of the prince without interference. If that’s true, he could be in trouble this very minute. “Jian Yu, he’s in danger!”

You jump up, nearly toppling back over before steadying yourself. “Dove, wait!” Wukong gets to his feet as well, reaching to take hold of your arm but you’re already slamming the door open and running into the hall. You race through the building, tripping over your own feet but you refuse to let any slip ups slow you down.

By the time you get to his room, you don’t bother with knocking. The door shoots open and you run in, exhaling heavily until that final breath catches in your throat. The prince is limp on the floor on his side, at the foot of his bed. A figure stands over him, a small blade in hand dripping with his blood.

“No!” Your voice shreds as you run. The crack of wood echoes through the room as you slam your bow over the head of the figure just as they turn to face you. The hit carries enough force to snap your bow in two and send them to the floor, knocking them out.

Dropping what’s left of your bow, you kneel down to turn the prince on his back. He winces as you move him onto his back and pull him into your arms. “No, no no no no…” His eyes are still open, wide and terrified. Crimson seeps into his clothing from his abdomen, he’s convulsing and his breathing is erratic.

You were supposed to keep him safe, why couldn’t you keep him safe?! “No, no, please! Not again– not again! Stay with me!” His hands feel clammy as they grip onto your arm.

“No, no!” He goes to speak, but is unable to. You try to heal the wound, but you can hardly gather yourself to do so, you feel like the walls of the room are closing in. Even putting pressure on the wound feels futile, you can see the light in eyes leaving again as you try. “Listen to my voice, you can’t go! Jie! I won’t lose you again! Jie, please!”

Something makes you shake, you only now notice the hands on your shoulders. “Dove!” You look back to see Sun Wukong over your shoulder. Was he here this whole time? “The blade reeks of that flower.” He looks back to where the figure dropped their weapon and your heart sinks even lower. If that’s true, stopping the bleeding will do nothing. He’s going to die.

“Help him!” You plead, your hold of the boy tightening. “Please, Wukong, I can’t let him die! I can’t just sit here and watch him die again!”

The demon frowns. “I can’t do anything, I can’t cure the poison.” It’s happening again. You’ll have killed him twice. The same boy, twice–

“Dove, Dove! Snap out of it!” You’re shaken again, the Monkey King now in front of you. He’s blurry, your vision obscured by the tears now stinging your eyes. “I can’t help him, but you can. You can heal him.”

“I can’t!” You can hardly breathe, you can’t do anything to help him.

Wukong’s hold on your shoulders tightens. “Use your gift–”

“I’m trying!” Your voice cracks, the demon flinching back as you cradle the boy in your arms. “It’s not working! I can’t do it, I can’t save him! Jie’s dying and I can’t do anything!”

“Yes, you can!” He moves his hand to cup your face. He guides you to face him as he wipes the tears streaming down your face. “Look at me, Dove. You need to focus, breathe.” He speaks calmly, his voice low and grounding. “You’ve cured my blindness, an infected flesh wound is nothing in comparison! I know you can do it. Just breathe.”

His tail curls around your arm, squeezing in reassurance. He’s right, you’re the only one that can save him now. You can’t watch him die again, you won’t– He won’t die. You look back at Sun Wukong, and he gives you a reassuring nod. Your breathing begins to slow, and you look back down to Jian Yu.

Shutting your eyes tight, you do your best to regulate your breathing and focus on his injury. The agonising throbbing in your shoulder is a distraction, but one you bear as you begin to work. The wound is deep, the poison already coursing through his body. You focus on the poison, the blood pooling out from his abdomen, his life that hangs on a thread.

In that moment, your already dwindling strength begins to slip as you work to heal him. You don’t stop, pushing to close the wound. You keep your breathing steady, your mind focused on your task as your energy slips away. Wukong’s hand leaves your face, and you feel arms catch you before you can even realise you fell over.

You open your eyes, now with barely enough energy to keep them open. It’s worth it when you see the prince lunge forward, sitting up in a panic before falling back.

Familiar arms keep you close, holding you to a chest that, under different circumstances, would make you chuckle over its faint scent of peaches. All you can manage is a soft grunt, the fight to stay awake becoming too much. Anything Wukong says to you falls on deaf ears, the struggle to stay conscious while ignoring the pain in your shoulder becomes too much.

At least he’s safe.

~~~~

Everything feels sore, your limbs heavy as your eyes start to open. Light pours into your room from the window as you lie in bed, it takes your eyes a moment to adjust. Your head thunders in this throbbing pain and when you reach up to feel it, you wince. Sitting up, you see that your shoulder is heavily wrapped, still aching from your dagger during that fight.

“Careful.” You turn to see Wukong at your side, taking you by your good shoulder and guiding you back to lie down.

Your brows furrow. “…Monkey?”

“How do you feel?” He asks, taking hold of your hand.

You groan a bit, massaging your temple with your free hand. “My head feels like it’s been split down the middle.”

Instead of any verbal response, your friend whacks you over the head with his tail. You grunt while he scoffs. “That must be what happens when you use all your energy after depriving yourself from sleep.”

“I was also stabbed. Trying to heal someone while bleeding out can be a little painful.” You deadpan, but only for a moment before realisation hits you. “The prince, is he–”

“Better than you, that is for certain.” He responds curtly, annoyance seeping through his words before smirking. “You saved his life.” Hearing that, you let go of a breath you had no idea you were holding.

As relief courses through you, Wukong continues. “All your screaming woke up half the palace. With you practically dead in my arms and that prince lying in his own blood, I had to convince the guards I wasn’t responsible for killing you both.” Oh, that would look bad.

He continues to inform you of the fate of the culprits. “They confessed yesterday to the other attempts as well as killing the queen. I’m not too interested in the politics of it all, but your beloved prince is safe.”

You don’t even process the sourness in his tone before jolting up to sit. “Wait, yesterday?!”

“Careful!” Wukong hisses, leaning over to ensure your shoulder is still alright. Once he’s done fussing, he lets out a tired huff. “And, yes, yesterday. You’ve been unconscious for the last… hmm, 37 hours? That’s what I counted anyway.” It’s been over a day?!

“Master and your sweet little prince have been in a few times to check on you and keep me up to date with what has been going on.” He explains, making you think on his words for a moment. Counting the hours, having people catch him up– has Sun Wukong been with you this whole time you’ve slept?

Huh. “So… he’s safe?” You want to ask him how long he’s been sitting with you, but you decide against it.

“Yes.” He rolls his eyes, and you shut your eyes for a moment, taking in a deep breath as the stress that’s been weighing on you finally lifts. He’s really safe.

When you open your eyes, you lean over to wrap Wukong in a tight embrace. “Thank you.” He stiffens at your touch, frozen for a moment before chuckling.

“Heh, you’re the one who saved your betrothed.” He mumbles, and you feel an arm slowly wrap around your back.

“I wouldn’t have been able to without you. I don’t know what I would have done if you weren’t with me.” You give the monkey demon one last squeeze before sitting back. You still hold him by his shoulders, offering a smile to show your gratitude.

You’re met with silence, your friend fixing you with a look you can’t quite read. His eyes look almost a little stunned, wide.

He eventually cracks a smile, but before he can say anything, a knock at your door interrupts you. One of the palace servants enter, it’s one of the women who have been taking care of you since you’ve been here. Her face lights up when she sees the two of you. “You’ve awoken! I will have the physician come to see you right away.”

“Oh, that’s alright.” You wave, but she’s already gone before you finish your sentence. After she leaves, you’re given another flick from Wukong’s tail. “Hey!”

“Shh, you do need to be checked on.” He huffs, crossing his arms. “To re-wrap your shoulder, or something… I don’t know, I’m not any sort of physician.” His gaze falls to the ground as he rambles, and you can’t help the smile that gives itself a place on your face.

You’ve seen it before, when he’s almost unsure of his words, but it’s not often when he acts like this. It’s endearing, though. He catches you staring when he looks back, and clears his throat. “I can leave you to rest, if you want.”

He stands to leave, but you catch his hand. “No, stay. I think I’ve slept long enough.” He looks back at you, traces of a small smile forming before he nods.

“Alright, then.” He shakes his head, almost in amusement, before returning to his spot by your side. “I could tell you what I’ve been up to with Master and my brothers.”

“Have the three of you managed to give Tripitaka a heart attack in my absence?” You grin, making the demon chuckle.

“Not yet, but we’ve gotten close.” He smirks, making you roll your eyes playfully. As he begins to fill you in on the hijinks that have ensued since you’ve been in the palace, you lie back and listen to your friend.

~~~~

After the physician leaves, a servant follows to take you to the gardens. Even with Sun Wukong’s reassurance of his well being, it’s still a welcome sight to see the prince on his feet again. He stands on the same bridge where all this madness started, a warm smile spreading to his face as he sees you approach.

He greets you as you join him on the bridge, and you do the same. “How are you feeling, Jian Yu?”

“Wonderful, thanks to you.” He nods. “Your monkey companion explained your powers to me, it seems you have saved my life twice now.”

You offer him a polite smile before turning to look out over the pond. “I heard the guilty party has confessed.”

The prince sighs. “Yes. At last, I can rest knowing my mother’s killer is going to pay for their actions.” You look back to him, his expression solemn at the mention of his mother.

Silence encompasses the space around you, save for the buzzing of insects and rustle of leaves. The prince seems… you’re not sure what to call it exactly. When you spoke that night before going back to your room, there was a fire in his words. With the criminal now locked away, that flame is barely there. Not put out, but small. There was such determination in his voice, but now he seems almost too quiet.

You take a moment to study his features. “Can you rest?”

It takes him a moment to answer. “…I hope I will be able to. I am unsure of what I feel now.” He frowns, stepping forward to lean on the railing of the bridge. “So many nights, I have spent tossing and turning in bed. I thought I was restless because of the thoughts about that monster still roaming free… but last night, I found no comfort.”

He looks down to the water, his fist clenching as his confused reflection looks back. “Is something wrong with me?”

You take a moment of thought before answering, your gaze on his back before stepping up to join him by the railing. “Perhaps your restlessness does not come from your anxieties. Maybe you just… miss her. That’s normal, to miss someone, to wish you could see them one last time.” You look down at his reflection in the pond, his eyes turning back to look at you.

“You understand that feeling, don’t you?” You feel yourself stiffen at the question, and your head swivels to look up at him. The prince quickly takes a step back, sensing your discomfort. “I was, um, conscious enough to still hear you for a bit. When I was bleeding out.”

Oh, he heard you. Your eyes fall back to the water as he continues. “You called me Jie. He was someone you were close to, wasn’t he?”

You stare back at your own reflection, and you notice the bags under your eyes. “…We were children. Demons attacked our village, we were separated from our families and he was trying to get us to safety.” You shake your head, shutting your eyes doesn’t stop you from seeing that night.

“He had given me a gift, I left it in my home and I wanted to retrieve it before we got somewhere safe. Everything was on fire… he wanted to leave but eventually, he followed me into the house.” Water begins to sting at your eyes, and you quickly wipe your tears before they have the chance to fall. “I got what I wanted, but we tried to leave and then… then I watched a blade run through his chest. His eyes–” You choke on your words, and the prince steps closer, holding you by your shoulders as you stifle a cry.

You look up at him, a sad smile on your face as you take in his worried features. Every expression he makes, it only reminds you of him. “You have his eyes. If he– If Jie had the chance to grow up, mature… I imagine he would have looked like you.” You look back down to the water, embarrassed to be saying any of this out loud. “I miss him. I miss him so much. Sometimes, I dream of that night, and I try to change things. It always ends the same.”

“…Can I tell you something?” Jian Yu whispers, and you look up to see him glance away. “I had another reason. For asking for your help, that is.”

You frown, now confused. “It seemed inappropriate at the time to mention it, but… when I first saw you the day you saved me, I– heh, I had the strangest feeling of nostalgia.” He admits, rubbing the back of his neck almost awkwardly. “It was like I was seeing someone I used to know, but I couldn’t quite recall.”

He looks back to you, but you’re not sure what to think of his words. The confession is almost too much for you to digest, but the longer you think it through, you find yourself smiling. “If my Da Jie were to reincarnate, I would not be surprised to find him as a prince in his new life.” You can’t help the sniffle that escapes, and the prince smiles.

“Is that who you think I am?” He questions, and you let out a tired huff.

“I’m not sure. Whether or not you are… would it be inappropriate of me to ask for a hug?” You ask.

“I think you need it.” Jian Yu opens his arms, and the two of you embrace. You hold him closely, no longer bothering to stop the tears as they fall.

The two of you stay in each other’s embrace for some time, and when you finally step back, you both hold onto one another’s arms. The prince gives you a kind smile. “When I was told you had awoken, I sent for your friends. They should be arriving soon.”

“Then I guess this is goodbye.” You return the smile, letting go of the man as he does the same.

“I suppose it is.” He nods, seemingly content before his eyes widen and his brows shoot up. “Oh, I nearly forgot. Follow me.”

Taking your hand, Jian Yu leads you off the bridge. He guides you back to the tree you first spotted him from, though now something tall lies against the trunk. It’s wrapped in cloth with a white chrysanthemum lying next to it. He takes the flower, handing it to you first. “Chrysanthemums were one of my mother’s favourite flowers. After I heard you calling for your friend the other night… I think she would find it appropriate that you have one.”

“Thank you.” You take the flower, twirling the stem as you look down at its delicate petals before Jian Yu hands you the second item, holding it in both hands..

You take the gift, unwrapping it before looking back to the prince in surprise. “I also couldn’t send an archer on her way without a bow.” It’s new, not even stringed yet. On the back of it, your name is inscribed.

“Yu… Thank you.” When you look back at him, you see your friend smiling back at you.

“And thank you.” This time, it isn’t so hard to look him in the eyes.

Once you say your goodbyes, you meet the others back at the gates of the palace. With everyone accounted for, you leave the kingdom and resume the journey westward.

After catching up with everyone, you hang at the back of the group. It doesn’t take long for Wukong to fall back to your side, glancing over at your bow you hold in one hand while keeping the chrysanthemum between your fingers of your other hand.

He hums a bit, his lips stretched into a thin line while inspecting your new bow. “Your friend got you a cool new toy, huh?”

You hold the bow up with a soft smile. “It might take me some time to get used to it, but it’s a brilliant bow.” He lets out a bit of a scoff at your answer, and you look back at him with an amused brow raised.

“Well, hey, if you ever run out of arrows, just let Ol’ Monkey know.” He points back at himself, your grin growing as you begin to see hints of… is that jealousy? Is this why he was acting so upset that night when he caught you going to the prince? What does he have to be jealous of, it isn’t as though you would consider abandoning the pilgrimage. You are a buddhist monk, after all.

The sage plucks out a bit of hair from his arm. “All I have to do is take a few hairs and…” He turns them into arrows, all a perfect length for your new bow.

You accept the arrows, your grin showing no signs of fading as you slide them into your quiver. It does, however, morph into the thankful look you give your friend. “Thank you, and Wukong? I want to apologise for how I spoke to you earlier.”

“I was stressed and overtired, and maybe a little obsessed– but that’s no excuse. I know you were only trying to look out for me, and I appreciate that.” You look back to your friends ahead of you, this warm feeling filling your chest. You’ve missed being in their presence, it was good that Wukong was able to check in on you every now and then in the palace. He kept you afloat in the stress that threatened to drown you.

He takes the chrysanthemum from your hand. “It’s alright, it is my fault for putting you into that position in the first place. I’m just glad you’re here with us now.” He tucks the flower behind your ear as he speaks. “I know how much this entire ordeal has been weighing on you. I sort of, uh… maybe eavesdropped on you and the prince before you left.”

You raise a brow at his confession, though you aren’t too surprised, knowing who he is. “I’m sorry about your friend.” He offers his condolences, and you look back down at the path you’re on.

“If it makes you feel better, you would have had to leave him anyway for your stay in the Jade Palace, right?” He attempts to comfort you, but the deadpan stare you give him is enough for him to backtrack. “I- I mean, uh… no matter what could have happened, what did happen, I’m sure he’d be thrilled to know you really were listening to all those times where he rambled about his little plant facts.”

His words make you hum in acknowledgement, and after a moment you smile. “Yes, I can imagine how happy he’d be about that. He’d be at ease to know I don’t go around picking poisonous flowers anymore.” You laugh, looking ahead to your group.

Yeah, he’d be happy to see where you are now.

#wukong really has a way with words #like i said super happy fluff chapter 😃#little dove #jttw sun wukong #sun wukong x reader

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