#i’m utterly devastated and i CAN’T STOP THINKING ABOUT IT

[epocalyps]

do you ever think about this post that parallels the motif of running off together in ofmd, wwdits, good omens and tma beCAUSE I DO ALL THE TIME

[vvitchllng]

In addition to Everything Else that happened this episode, I can’t stop thinking about the moment where Laudna asks him why Seedling isn’t enough why he wants This sword and Orym’s whole demeanor shifts and he looks Laudna dead in the eyes and says you’re right why Would you reach for a darker power.

Orym and Laudna are the characters with the most interparty conflict and they’re the same!!!!!!! At their core their strongest motivation is their drive to protect the ones they love at the cost of themselves if necessary. We see it all the time with Orym throwing himself in front of his friends over and over again, making deals with fae to try and keep them safe. And we see it all the time with Laudna and Delilah, where over and Over again she lures Laudna with the promise of being strong enough to protect her friends, to keep them safe. We saw it again tonight when Delilah manipulated her to get the sword by telling her it was a danger to Orym!!

Both of them looked at the power that caused their pain and decided to take it for their own, to use it to protect their loved ones instead, because if it was capable of such devastation against them, it was capable of delivering that same devastation to their enemies. Laudna asking why seedling isn’t enough (why he isn’t enough, the frustrated self-deprecating response “I have Push-ups!”) and Orym returning the question because Laudna Does have her own power separate from Delilah, she just doesn’t think its enough for what’s coming!!!

They both lost their families, but where Orym had the rest of his family, a purpose, a home, Laudna lost Everything and only had the voice of her murderer as comfort in the cold. So now they’re both taking on the power that destroyed their lives, but Orym can be rational and willing to have a discussion about doing so, while Laudna absolutely Cannot do the same because of how entwined she is with Delilah (with Delilah quite literally guiding her actions in addition to the years of psychological manipulation and abuse), and so they’re the same and yet so utterly different that they keep coming up against this fundamental inability to understand the other’s position because despite the same underlying motivations, their responses are so different.

Why would you reach for a darker power, why can you not understand why I’m doing this, why can you not see I’m doing this For You. Distorted reflections of each other wanting to be understood and at a loss when faced with the differences between them, what a fucking dynamic.

[iliveiloveiwrite]

By My Side // A.B.

Request: Could I have something fluffy? I’m think maybe the reader is from a lower class and is married to Anthony and she’s worried about not being a good enough viscountess. They’re getting ready for their engagement ball and Anthony gives her a pep talk? You’re the best!! - @whovianwholikesgirls

A/N: I’m sorry it’s taken so long to get to it, my love! But here it is, I’m sorry it isn’t longer - I hope you like it!!

Warnings: feelings of insecurity, worries, anxieties, lots of fluff and comfort, kissing, established relationship,

Word Count: less than 1k

Your hands couldn’t stop shaking. The nerves that had risen steadily all day were finally making themselves known in the tremor affecting your hands.

Exhaling shakily, you do your best to fasten the clasp of your necklace. A gorgeous piece, given to you by Anthony’s mother. The emeralds are only further accentuated by the champagne of your gown.

A further sigh of frustration leaves you as you fail once more in fastening the necklace.

“Let me,” A gentle voice cuts in, taking the necklace from your hands before you launch it across the room in despair. You meet the kind and caring gaze of your soon to be mother in law; her smile is comforting as she fiddles with the piece of jewellery.

“I thought I could do it,” You murmur, “But I can’t get my hands to stop shaking.”

“Nerves,” Violet says, smiling wider as she clasps the necklace and smooths her hands over your shoulders.

“I think it’s more than that,” You whisper, feeling the familiar burn of tears clog your throat. “I don’t think I can go out there and face all those people, whispering about Anthony’s choice in bride.”

Violet frowns. “My dear, whatever has brought this on?”

You blink against the rush of tears. “The closer we get to the wedding, the more it becomes clear just how lacking I am in class politics, gossip and graces. I don’t want Anthony to regret his choice in bride.”

Violet nods, taking the words to heart. “My dear, I shall not be a moment. Stay here and try to calm yourself whilst I make it all better.”

A watery but grateful smile crosses your face as you watch the beloved matriarch leave the room, the door clicking gently shut behind her. You stare at your reflection in the mirror, doing your best to calm yourself by trying not to think of the gathering crowd in the ballroom downstairs. Each one of them waiting to catch a glimpse of you - to make their judgement; to be judge, jury and executioner all in one.

You aren’t alone with your thoughts for long. The door opens once more, however it isn’t Violet that walks through the door.

It’s Anthony.

“Darling,” He greets, his voice concerned as he crosses the room to you.

“Anthony.”

“Mother told me. Darling, how could you think those things?”

Tears cling to your lashes as you face your beloved fiancé. Anthony kneels before you; his hands gripping your knees, his face the perfect picture of worry.

You sniffle. “It’s all I’ve heard since we announced our engagement. In the modiste, in the tearooms, when we promenade… It is so tiring. I love you beyond all reason, but I cannot help but worry whether this is a decision you’ll come to regret.”

The words leave you in a torrent; rushing out of you so quickly you barely have time to take a breath. The words get stuck in your throaty as you catch the devastation that passes over Anthony’s face.

“My love,” He whispers, “Had I known the full extent, I never would have organised tonight.”

“No,” You argue. “I’m glad you have, I love any moment I get to spend with your family but I worry for the impact on you.”

Anthony’s hands leave your knees to grasp your face. His eyes fix onto yours. “I don’t give a damn about the impact on me.” He all but spits. “That out there? It’s all pomp and fake, but what we have… the love we share and the adoration, that’s what’s matters.”

“I love you.”

“I know you do,” Anthony breathes. “I love you too… endlessly. You are who I want; I want my future to be utterly entwined with yours. I want the mornings and the evenings and the nights. Your class status means nothing to me. You will be a perfect wife and an incredible viscountess. I don’t care about the ton, I only care about you and how you feel and what you think.”

The man you love so entirely pulls you into his arms, holding you tightly. His lips seek out yours, kissing you thoroughly, pouring all of his emotions into the kiss. There was no denying his love and adoration for you now; there was no denying how well you fit, how perfect you moulded to the other. There would be no-one else for him as there would be no-one else for you.

Anthony pulls away, leaving you breathless as he places kiss after kiss to your cheek.

“Thank you,” You whisper, “Thank you for loving me.”

“Thank you for loving me,” He responds in earnest. Anthony kisses you again; a short, sweet kiss that has a smile crossing your face. His thumb brushes your cheek, relieved to see a genuine smile on your face.

“Do you feel ready to face the crowd waiting downstairs?” He asks quietly; lips brushing your hair.

“With you by my side, I can face anything.”

[cherryjuiceblues]

𝐕𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐀 𝐋𝐈𝐌𝐄 | 𝟓

➯ Y/N ONLY WANTS ONE THING AND HARRY IS LEARNING TO RELAX ENOUGH TO GIVE IT TO HER. ✰ demon!harry resolved angst. sexual content. minors dni. 𝑤𝑐 16.6k ッ vanilla lime masterlist

Y/N is trying really hard not to cry.

Partly because once she does open the floodgates there is no going back in her admittance of how deeply she needs Harry and partly because if she starts she knows she won’t stop and he hasn’t even been gone a full minute.

ㅤㅤ

When she’d woken up, lax underneath his sweet smelling sheets, she knew—knew that if she didn’t go home that morning that she would never leave. And Harry’s lack of presence beside her was a blessing, otherwise she knows she would’ve been coaxed back to her fantasy land (that she’d tried so hard to distance herself from).

He hadn’t said much when she appeared meekly in front of him; had had a sliver of hope that the blissed out expression she had fallen asleep with might have stayed, but he could tell that she’d made her decision. And he hadn’t tried to change her mind, almost to Y/N’s disappointment—did he not want her as much as she thought he might? Was he fighting their connection and winning?

But Harry’s heart was heavy in his chest. Still is now, as he stands in front of her, back in her own living room.

“Thank you, Harry,” Y/N reluctantly starts, “for… for a lot of things.” She smiles sadly at the ground, willing herself not to tear up. She wonders how she would be feeling if their souls weren’t bound. Relief, perhaps. Or nothing at all.

He watches her. Notices the subtle clench of her eyelids to press the tears back in and the way her palms flatten against her thighs. He should say something but the words don’t form.

“I know this can’t have been the most exciting week of your life, but I definitely won’t forget it any time soon.” What are you saying? She swallows. “Will I see you again?” Y/N lifts her eyes up to meet his devastating green, brows furrowed in the slightest indication of his discontent.

“If you ever need the help of a demon,” Harry straightens his posture, “I’m sure I can find my way back.”

That’s not the circumstance she meant and they both know it. Y/N fails to hide the disappointment on her face but doesn’t voice it.

“Okay,” she whispers, voice intending to be louder but her throat clogs. Harry wants to swoop her up in his arms—but he doesn’t. He steps back.

“Bye, Bambi.” Y/N feels her lungs quiver under the weight of the sad gasp she nearly inhales, tears well on their way to clouding her vision. But she blinks them away quickly; refuses to miss the last sight of him as he looks at her. He’s doing a much better job of hiding his pain but Y/N can feel it, or at least she believes she can—if it makes her feel better about the way she’s ready to sob.

Harry gives her one final small smile, failing to reach his eyes, and then he’s gone. Completely and utterly absent, with the gentle breeze his leave creates whirling his usually soothing scent right into Y/N’s face. Only this time it smells bitter. And her waterline is so close to spilling over but she refuses to blink—instead knuckles at her eyes furiously and lets out some deep breaths. More open-mouthed forcings of air than controlled breathing but it works.

ㅤㅤ

She stands in her living room, head tilted back towards the ceiling, for longer than she’d like to admit until the jarring sound of her phone jolts her out of her maladaptive thinking. Another text from Sarah.

just making sure you’re alive…

haven’t heard from u in a couple days, u ok?

Y/N sighs as guilt rushes over her and temporarily replaces the despair. It’s not like she has intentionally been ignoring her friend but it was hard to reply to a ‘how are u?’ and a ‘u ok?’ text when there were no words to reply with. She already knows she won’t be telling Sarah anything, had known from the first day, and it eats away inside of her but she’s adamant it’s for the best.

hey, sorry i haven’t replied. been busy. i’m okay, how are you? x 

The telling bubbles that indicate Sarah is replying appear as soon as Y/N hits send and she deflates a little.

HELLO!

i’ve missed u

i’m good, slumped at work but you know how that is.

u free to meet up soon?

She’ll admit she does smile a little at her friend’s enthusiasm—nice to know that she’s cared about—and quickly types a response with the promise of being available at the weekend. Sarah seems satisfied with her answer and promises that they’ll have a good catch up. And whilst Y/N is relieved to not have to pretend that everything is okay anymore, as she tosses her phone towards her sofa, she’s once again left with her thoughts. The only thoughts her brain is capable of having; about Harry.

Imogen looks shocked to see Y/N sit down at her desk—the truth lingering between them as they exchange eye contact. She’d tried to stay at home, she really had, but nothing could grab her attention and nothing seemed important enough to warrant doing.

So she worked. For the rest of the week, she gets up and goes to work. But whilst she may be mimicking a normal life, hers is so very far from it. She allows herself to cry. Every night when she goes to bed—the distance from Harry hurts more and more with every sleep and the tears last longer each night. But Y/N likes to think she deserves a cry, as a treat from every day being the hardest day at work she’s ever had. She thinks Harry might come back if she cries hard enough but he never does.

Once it reaches Friday, Y/N finally acknowledges the situation to Imogen, who has been very patient all week. She doesn’t get teary eyed but something else catches her interest.

“I don’t understand,” Y/N says, wheeling over to Imogen on her squeaky office chair, “how you remembered.”

Imogen’s head tilts in confusion. “What do you mean?”

She leans in, quietening her voice. “Harry put a spell—a glamour—on the building. To make everyone forget about the whole incident… But you remembered that you prayed and that would’ve happened the day before. Harry even made you forget that he took me home.”

Imogen gasps. “I knew I recognised him, I do remember that now… in the bathroom.” Gently, she places a hand on Y/N’s knee. “We’re talking about Lucifer here, babe. He’s the most powerful being on the planet… I know I’m not very experienced in the matter but surely he overrides everything. At least, that’s what makes the most sense, considering Harry’s spell malarkey didn’t work on me. And you know, maybe my angel blood was finally doing me some good.”

Y/N sighs. “Yeah… I don’t know why I can’t stop analysing everything—nothing is going to change. I just—” she pauses, inhaling, “I miss him,” shuffling uncomfortably, clearing her throat, eyes darting anywhere but her friend’s face. “I think I’ll always miss him—I mean if our souls are bound,” she laughs humourlessly, “I think I’m fucked.”

“Oh, babe,” Imogen pulls Y/N in for a hug, knees bashing awkwardly as they both lean forward on their respective chairs. “I’ll give Harry a right piece of my mind the next time I see him. Using his fuckery to hypnotise me,” she tuts.

Y/N pulls away with a small smile. “It’s called mind compulsion, I think.”

“Well, my mind is feeling rather compulsed to punch him.”

“I don’t think that’s a word,” she laughs and Imogen smiles, not mentioning the glossy look in Y/N’s eyes.

ㅤㅤ

“Do you want me to stay over tonight?”

Y/N’s heart warms slightly, looking up from her desk as she gets ready to go home.

“That’s okay, Gen,” she smiles softly. Imogen doesn’t look convinced, worry plastered across her features. “I’m so tired I think I’ll pass straight out as soon as my head hits the pillow tonight.” She stands, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “Thank you, though. Really.”

ㅤㅤ

Y/N does not, in fact, fall asleep as soon as her head hits the pillow. Her head doesn’t even get close enough for that to happen. As soon as she hears the fateful click of her front door shutting, she’s letting her bag fall to the floor and her hands cover her face. The tears hold themselves back but her chest is rising and falling at a rapid pace—so painfully.

Every breath feels like another step taken away from Harry. He’s gone and she’s never going to see him again. She’s going to meet someone, force herself to fall in love and pretend that she is happy, have a beautiful family that fills the void but only for a little while—and still be longing for Harry until the day she dies.

It’s a hollow feeling, one of panic. The realisation that this could be her life now. That she will never be truly happy again because a part of her will always be missing. Y/N slaps her hands against the door behind her in an attempt to steady her fall as she sinks to the ground. Her head makes contact with the wood heavily as she stares up at the ceiling. Her breathing is uncontrollable now, so desperate to fill her lungs that her lungs refuse; they form an impenetrable wall and won’t let anything in. 

Y/N’s palms are sweaty on her knees, huddled to her chest. And then they’re wet on her eyes as her waterline starts to overflow, leaving hot salty trails down her cheeks and sobs that rip out of her chest. She’s never known crying to hurt like this. Even during the torturous week she’s had, when she buried her face into her pillow and cried herself to sleep each night, it hadn’t stung and torn through her like it is right now. Her head is pounding and foggy and she’s awfully congested, tears coating her face and pooling in her palms that are pressing numbingly into her sockets.

She doesn’t know anything. Other than that she needs Harry so much she thinks she might die from crying otherwise. Maybe her tears will start to fill her lungs and she’ll drown, or her ribs will crack from the force at which her shoulders are shaking and puncture her heart. The cause of death will be listed as the most pathetic of heartbreaks and she will be pitied by the masses.

His name is on a loop inside her head and he is all she can see behind her eyelids. She’s thinking of him so hard that she starts to smell him. And then hear his voice. And then feel his hands on her knees, trailing up to grasp at her wrists and pull them gently away from her face.

“Baby,” she hears Harry coo. Y/N gasps, revealing her sad, puffy face to him. She thinks she’s hallucinating but seeing him only makes her cry harder, eyes scrunching up and downturned lips letting out another sob. She’s pulled into Harry’s lap and he feels so real but Y/N can’t process what’s going on as she cries into his collarbone, soaking his shirt. Harry’s large palm is warm on her back, rubbing up and down in soothing motions as he mumbles things Y/N can’t hear into her hair. “I’m here, you’re okay. You’re okay.”

“Harry?” Y/N’s voice is thick; his name barely distinguishable but he knows. Squeezes her tighter against his body, arms wrapped around her back. She’s sat so close in his lap he thinks they might fuse together—he’d be okay with that.

It’s sudden—the way Y/N’s tears stop and her lungs break down their walls to let the much-needed air in. Her heart starts beating at a more steady rate as she inhales Harry—body relaxing into his—and her brain starts to calm down, fog shifting as it realises what’s going on. That nothing is missing anymore.

ㅤㅤ

Now, with a clearer head, Y/N starts to feel a little shy. She knows how rough she must look, water trails staining her skin, hands shaking, and limbs too heavy to hold up. Harry’s comforting hands hold her close to his chest as she breathes against his neck, but Y/N pushes against him to sit back and cover her face, desperate to wipe away some of her despair.

Harry cups her cheeks, nudging her hands out of the way and wiping the salty tracks from her skin. Her eyes flutter shut, furrowed brows relaxing somewhat. It’s a little humiliating when she feels him thumb underneath her nose, no doubt swiping away snot—she never thought she’d have anyone uncaringly clean her up like that and it causes an endeared warmth to blossom throughout her chest.

“You’re okay,” Harry says again, quiet enough that Y/N might think he fears the power of his own voice. His hands are so soft and warm as they hold her, mollifying her already leaden limbs as she melts even further into him, head leaning into his grasp. He drops a longing kiss to her forehead, pouring his every fibre into trying to soak up Y/N’s pain.

She brings her hands up to cover Harry’s, wishing she could breathe in better through her nose to unashamedly bask in his scent. “You heard me?” She asks.

“Every day.”

Y/N pulls back just enough so Harry’s lips leave her forehead, catching his gaze. His composure is commendable, and maybe if she wasn’t just about ready to dive into his eyes then it would be less obvious to her that he was hurting too.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, thinking of every tear she has shed over the last few nights and how loudly they must’ve echoed in Harry’s head.

“No.” He holds her face tighter, angling it up. He’s stern. “Don’t say that. I was trying to keep my distance. I thought— You have nothing to be sorry about, Bambi.” Harry strokes his thumbs across her cheeks, fingers gently buried in her hair. “I’m sorry. I could’ve come sooner—I let you cry,” he closes his eyes, brows kinked.

“Hey,” Y/N frowns. “If I can’t apologise, neither can you,” she shuffles even closer on Harry’s lap (not that she can get any closer but it feels necessary). She brings her own hands up to his face and delicately brushes his eyebrows—trails a finger down the bridge of his nose before using both her index fingers to pull at the corners of his mouth to twist them up into a smile. Harry relents, revealing his dimple in a smile he lets Y/N have. 

They sit there, with their faces in each other’s hands for longer than either of them know, only shifting into a more comfortable position when Harry hugs Y/N to his chest once more and rests his head atop hers. Both of their minds are running wild but neither of them want to be the one who disrupts the silence—bursts the bubble. Talking can wait a little while longer.

Harry takes her thighs and forces them even tighter around him, arms wrapping around her back securely. Even if Y/N wanted to move, their bodies wouldn’t allow it. He hugs her with so much force, Y/N’s breath hitches and Harry releases his grip slightly with a soft apology. She only nestles into his neck further, trapped hands resting happily on his chest. Their hearts beat together, steady and safe, and the places their skin touches liquify in bliss.

When Harry notices the shift in Y/N’s breathing he starts rubbing her back once more, whispering, “Don’t fall asleep on me now.” He can feel the flutter of her lashes against his neck and leans back just enough so she can’t bury in further. “Come on,” he tries again when she groans, “have you eaten?”

“No,” Y/N grumbles, wishing Harry would just let her nap on him. “Let me sleep.”

But Harry is already starting to get to his feet, hands securely under her thighs to keep her wrapped around him as he stands up with zero effort—Y/N nearly forgets his strength and agility surpasses that of an average person. She says nothing more, content with the lack of moving she has to do. He sets her down at her kitchen table—places her right on top of it. Y/N’s legs aren’t her own; they hang on tight when Harry tries to step back and she knows she should let go, that her moment of vulnerability has passed and she should act appropriately, but the possibility that he might disappear is knocking around invasively in her skull.

Harry treats her delicately—doesn’t tease. “I won’t be long.” He tucks her hair behind her ears. “You care what you have?” Y/N shakes her head, eyes failing to conceal her emotions. They’re wide, and overwhelmed, and tired. Harry smiles softly, holding her gaze for a second, his eyes flicking over her face; really there, really real. They get stuck in the moment again, taking one another in, before Harry forces himself to look away. He unlinks Y/N’s legs from around him and leaves her with an uncharacteristic tap to her nose with his forefinger that has her pulling away in faux annoyance, a small smile revealing her true feelings.

ㅤㅤ

They don’t talk whilst she eats. Harry comes back with a small bowl of leftover stir fry and helps her down from the table wordlessly, pulling out her chair and placing the food in front of her. He sits opposite and watches thoughtfully. Y/N doesn’t necessarily jump with joy at the idea of someone watching her eat usually, but none of the discomfort arises, gratefully filling her stomach and returning the eye contact whenever her mouth isn’t wide open mid-bite.

Before Y/N has even swallowed her last mouthful, she’s eager to push away from the table, sure she can hear the sweet siren song of her bed calling out to her. Harry follows her movements near weightlessly, every motion graceful. There was never anything clunky or awkward about him. Y/N pauses as she places her bowl in the sink, turning around hesitantly. “You’ll stay, won’t you?” Harry nearly rolls his eyes at the silly question—and maybe bites back a derisive remark—instead nodding assertively, calming her as much as possible without using his perfumed magic. (He decided a while ago he wouldn’t unless she asked—and even when she had asked, on the night that he’d stayed in her room to make sure she was okay, there was still a lingering guilt churning around inside him at the knowledge of his manipulation.)

“Of course I will,” he verbally confirms, following Y/N once again when she meekly walks past him through the doorway and heads towards her bedroom. Harry assumes she must be feeling a little embarrassed, always so determined to minimise her behaviour before tonight. The obvious display she’s presented has broken down a barrier; new for him but drastic for her. She may as well have removed her heart from her chest and spread it out for him, or delivered it into his palms with a note that read:

this is yours now.

Harry would be sure to take care of it, but he’s unconvinced Y/N knows that.

ㅤㅤ

She busies herself in the bathroom, mind running as she tries to plan some semblance of what she wishes to say in her head. When she pushes the door open however, and sees Harry sitting on the edge of her bed, her mouth starts running before her brain does.

“I don’t want you to go—” her skin warms and her eyes scrunch when she realises she’s blurted out the words that should’ve been hinted at much more gracefully. But she continues. “I mean— after tonight—” she rushes, “not because of the soul thing…or maybe it is but I don’t care.” Harry listens with a soft and watchful gaze. “It doesn’t bother me… and I want you to stay in my life and I know our souls being connected makes it complicated but I’m not just saying this. And it’s not just because of my unhinged crying, although it did suck…” Y/N lowers her voice, almost scared to admit it, “I think I would’ve cried anyway, tethered or not.”

Harry is processing her words for no longer than three seconds before Y/N starts up again, his miniscule silence as he carefully chooses his reply stirring a panic up inside her. “I know you probably don’t feel the same… or you don’t want to.” Harry sits up, mouth opening to correct her but she keeps talking. “I’m sorry you got stuck with me…”

“Y/N—”

“—But I thought you might be okay with becoming friends?”

“Y/N—”

“—Or if not I could just push someone else down the stairs and—”

“Y/N!” Harry finally cuts through her. His voice is powerful, commanding, but still so delicate it barely disturbs the particles around them. She looks at him properly, pulling herself out of her head, with wide eyes. “You’re working yourself into a tizzy, hm? Come here, silly girl.” He opens his arms and widens his legs so Y/N can step between them. Warm palms rest against her hips.

“I feel the same way. And I want to.”

His words light up inside of Y/N; they trail into her ears and slick down her neck. Seep into her skin and vibrate through her bones.

“Does that make you happy?” He strokes his thumbs against her hip bones, honey-dripping tone placing a coy smile onto Y/N’s face as she bites her lip in an attempt to hide it. 

She nods. “Yes.”

And she nearly stays happy too. Nearly lets her shoulders relax and her protective layer fall away. Until Harry continues speaking.

“But—”

“No,” Y/N’s smile drops. “No, there’s no but. Harry, please.” She tries to step back but Harry slides his hands around her body. 

“When we were at the cottage,” he starts, “I was ready to keep you forever. I would’ve done it in a heartbeat.” His eyes round out as they look up at her. “But how could that have been fair? I’m no good, Y/N, really—”

“—Don’t say that.” She grabs his shoulders.

“Please, Y/N. I’m old, and I do bad things, and whenever I am with you I am terrified you might suddenly realise what I am. You deserve a nice, human boy much better than me, who doesn’t put you in danger and can give you a normal life. I’d never forgive myself if I took that away from you.”

A million things rush through Y/N’s head. Sadness and sympathy for the way Harry talks of himself, and then frustration and denial that he could truly believe that. “Harry,” she starts, frowning face mirroring his own, “You are better.”

His expression stays the same, large eyes hesitant and unconvinced, not quite understanding what she is saying.

“You have been kinder to me than any human girl or boy—well, except for my friends but I don’t mean like that,” she pauses. “To say you are not good enough isn’t fair, especially when I’ll be comparing everyone I ever meet to you. And you will always come out on top.” Harry’s face softens and his hands pull Y/N in closer. “I know what you are, Harry. It doesn’t scare me,” she whispers, cupping his face tenderly. “I like liking you. It feels good.” She lets her eyes close, forehead tipping down to rest against his and he angles his head up. She listens to the way he breathes, slow and deep, and his silence unnerves her once more. “Say something,” she exhales.

“It’s too dangerous, I— Lucifer mentioned a demon named Zennith, that apparently I used to know but I don’t remember. He sent the demon after you and I don’t know what he wants or where he is. I could find him but I was half-hoping that if I ignored it, he would give up. I don’t even know if Lucifer was telling the truth. But nothing threatening has happened to you since Niall took care of the demon and I like things that way.”

Y/N doesn’t care. “I don’t care,” she tells him so, “you protect me.” And he does, better than anyone else could possibly attempt to.

Harry’s holding himself back; they both know it. Both know that he’s letting his worries get the better of him when nothing like this has affected him before. He’s usually so confident in his abilities to keep her safe, so what’s changed? He considers the possibility of a more permanent method of concealing her scent—one that might involve teeth, or words, or something so intimately internal that Harry has to redirect his thoughts before they get too muddy.

“Let me sit on it, yeah Bambi?” He eventually utters. It’s not a no, Y/N thinks. “I would rather never see you again in my long, immortal life than know that your pain was caused by me.” This has her eyes welling up as she clumsily lowers down onto his lap, arms thrown tight around his middle.

“Don’t say that,” Y/N speaks into his neck. “Don’t even think about it.” Her words are wet against his skin.

Harry sighs, his own face buried into the side of her head. “Always making you cry, sweet girl,” but Y/N shakes her head fervently until he smooths her hair down and holds her just as tight. “Been crying since the day we met.”

“No. M’tummy hurts, s’all.” Y/N is unconvincing but Harry smiles against her hair, mumbling a soft okay as they sit in each other’s arms once again.

ㅤ

Y/N is unsure at what point she was moved into her bed instead of on Harry’s lap on top of it, but when she wakes up in the morning and the first thing she sees is his sleeping face, logistics don’t seem important. Nothing seems important, apart from him being in front of her.

His face is serene, not a furrow or worry in sight, and his breathing is peaceful and deep. She wants to touch every inch of him—commit him to memory—but she doesn't want him to wake up. This could be it—the day he decides to never see her again, and the mere thought has Y/N closing her eyes in an attempt to will it away. Her body doesn’t function properly without him anymore. How would she possibly survive on her own?

“Y’thinking too loud,” the grumble jolts Y/N out of her depressing reverie, eyes opening to see Harry sleepily blinking at her. 

“Sorry,” she mumbles back, eyes flitting around the slivers of shirtless skin she can see. Harry reaches for her under the covers, fingers trailing up her arm. Her eyes meet his and he has a soft smile on his face, mussed hair curling around his temples. When his palm smooths up her neck and into her hair, there’s nothing more she wishes to do than sink into his touch. But she feels the need to protect herself and Harry notices the way she holds her breath.

“Don’t,” he whispers. “Don’t pull away from me.” He pushes himself up and drops down closer to her.

“But you get to?” Y/N says, slightly affronted.

Harry sighs, “No, baby—” he rubs hand down his face before running it through his hair. “I’m here right now. I won’t disappear, I promise you.”

Right now. Y/N repeats it in her head. Not forever—right now. Is that enough?

“But if anything becomes dangerous you’ll leave?”

“If anything becomes dangerous I will protect you entirely. And then I will make sure you stay safe. And if that means keeping away from you then that’s what I’ll do.” He traces the shell of her ear with his finger. “Don’t be so sad, little thing.”

“Why aren’t you sad?” Y/N huffs.

“How can I be, when I am with you?”

He has to go and be so irresistibly mawkish. Y/N can’t help the way her heart swells and her pupils expand. To be so unashamedly wanted is all she has ever wished for. She reaches her own hand up, landing on his that has weaved into her hair and bringing it down to hold her face. Her lips pucker against the spongy part of his palm, and then the pad of his thumb, and each of his fingers. Harry watches her with a small smile, eyes velvety.

He can’t stop himself from surging forward to press their mouths together, liquid insides begging him to do something. Y/N sighs into Harry’s mouth, easily following his movements. It feels as though they’ve been doing this forever—waking up next to one another. He keeps a firm grasp on her hand, manoeuvring their fingers so they interlock and pushing forward so Y/N lays on her back. Harry settles between her legs, lips never straying as their mouths open wider and wider with each kiss. With his free hand, Harry dances it down Y/N’s front, the other that’s firmly squeezing hers, still holding him up. Her nipples peak underneath her shirt and Harry elicits a gasp from Y/N as he thumbs over one, not stopping for long enough to tease as he gets further and further down her body.

Y/N opens her mouth for Harry eagerly, accepting his tongue with a grateful whine. Their noses bump and their breathing is laboured but it’s flawless. And when she feels Harry trail along the waistband of her shorts she pushes her hips up into him, only to have him send her back down and smooth his big hand underneath her shirt and press into her tummy. It’s a nice force, a warm and fuzzy feeling. One that has her sinking deeper into the space Harry gets her to when they do these things.

“What am I g’na do with you?” Their lips part and his eyes are seductive, stripping her bare. 

Y/N inhales shakily before whispering, “Whatever you want.” She tries to push into his hand but his strength is vast and he drags his nails up to her sternum before returning to her stomach and reapplying pressure.

Harry hums, slanting his lips against hers again, nibbling and sucking on her bottom lip until he can almost feel her skin tingling with impatience. “You want me to make all the decisions, hm?” He mumbles against her mouth. When she whines in affirmation, he says, “You like having no power, don’t you? Like just lying there and taking what I give you?” Harry’s words stoke the fire in her belly, thighs twitching. Y/N’s skin grows hot as she nods, embarrassed. “You gone all quiet on me, baby?”

“I like it,” she breathes, eyes closed.

“Like what? Look at me,” Harry squeezes her hand. “Like what?”

Y/N blinks up at him, takes in the flush of his cheeks and the glint in his eyes. She wants to kiss him until all the oxygen has been sucked from the room. “I like…when you decide. Want you to do whatever you want to me…please?”

“Love how politely you beg,” Harry kisses her again, sighing into her mouth. His tongue strokes hers and makes her squirm underneath him, tentatively hooking her legs around his hips. Harry moves his hand from her tummy around to the back of her thigh, and then her ass, pushing her into him as far as she can go.

Hard meets soft and their mouths open against one another. Harry pulls away, sponging kisses down Y/N’s neck. He trails further, licking her nipples through her shirt and taking a moment to admire the wet patches. Then he pushes the fabric up just enough to kiss at her stomach, nibbling until he hears giggles mixed in with Y/N’s moans. Harry smiles against her skin, peeking up at her from underneath his lashes. She looks so beautiful, all bated breaths and glowing skin.

“Tickles,” she exhales.

Harry can’t help himself. “Oh? When I do this?” he asks, before biting into her flesh again, dotting kisses for each tooth mark he leaves. And then he blows a wet raspberry underneath her belly button, eliciting the most adorable string of shrieks and giggles he’s sure he’s ever heard. Harry shakes his head back and forth, face snug to her skin, and his hair sweeps against her. Soft as Y/N’s hand falls into it, trying to tug him away.

He unlinks their hands and brings both of his palms to her hips, holding her to him. And as he subtly slips down, his mouth starts leaving kisses again and Y/N’s laughs get caught in her throat. Harry looks up at her with a smirk, mouth hovering above her mound. Her eyes are wide and her chest is heaving. But he’s barely even begun to tease yet. 

Slowly, Harry kisses over Y/N’s shorts, down, down, until his nose is level with her clit. And Y/N’s breath turns into a whine, and then a squeal when Harry nudges it, shaking his head from side to side again. Her hips buck into his face and he lets her, holds her closer to him as he inhales and breathes hot air onto her.

“Should I take these off or should I ruin you through your shorts, hm?” Harry gives a particularly pointed prod with his nose and Y/N gasps. “Think I could soak you through two layers?” Y/N doesn’t know anything, can only feel the immense throbbing between her legs. But Harry does all the thinking for her. “I think I could. But I won’t today,” as he tugs on the waistband of her shorts and pulls them down her legs, presenting her already wet underwear, “wanna taste you proper.”

The promise has Y/N’s stomach contracting and her hands fisting the sheets as Harry drags the flat of his tongue over her, causing her panties to stick to her as he plays and increasing the thrumming in Y/N’s body. Harry groans into her, the vibrations pulling a whimper from Y/N’s open mouth.

“You’re so responsive, Bambi,” Harry smiles against her. “I barely have to do a thing and you’re squirming underneath me.”

“Only you,” she whines, eyes finding his as he soaks his saliva over her clit, drenching her underwear further.

Harry hums, “That’s right. Just f’me, no one else.” She nods desperately. “You’re a good girl.” Y/N shivers, body begging him. “Should I make my good girl come, do you think?”

“Yes, please,” her bottom lip juts out, wet and puffy. “Need you.”

“M’needy girl needs me,” Harry pouts right back, and Y/N nearly begs again but her breath gets caught in her throat as Harry plucks her underwear to the side and licks through her folds, bottom to top. Her hips shudder and Harry forces her thighs around his head, doesn’t let an inch of space get between them. He laps at her like he may die without it, hums and groans into her, buries his nose so tightly against her clit and massages his tongue inside of her. Y/N swear she loses consciousness, head thrown back and eyes rolling—every sense overwhelmed. No one had ever made her feel like this before.

And the coil in her belly is already tightening, and Y/N knows she could let go so easily, she’s already so nearly there. But then a harsh blaring coming from her bedside table has her jumping from her skin. Harry doesn’t flinch, carries on practically devouring her. “What is that?” he speaks into her, arm thrown over her waist holding her down.

Y/N can’t talk, just blindly slaps for her phone to turn her alarm off. “I’m—” she tries, “seeing—Sarah—” her words come out broken and Harry hums against her, speeding up his movements. Y/N cries out, hands landing in his hair.

“Better come then,” Harry mumbles, sucking her clit into his mouth hard and then laving his tongue over her in tight circles. “Be a good girl and come for me, Bambi.” She whimpers as his tongue speeds up and one of his hands trails up her chest, pushing her shirt out of the way to reveal her breasts. He flicks at her nipple, pinches and squeezes and feels her pulsate against his chin.

She’s garbling his name, body wound up tight and he’s whispering into her, “I know, I know, just come for me.” Her orgasm is right there, she’s so close, and all it takes is for Harry to take his other hand and sink a single finger into her drippy hole and she’s clenching down around him, crying out as she comes. Her eyes squeeze shut and tears slide down her temples as Harry licks her through it, humming. He can’t take his eyes off of her, splayed out so pretty for him, contracting around his finger and pulling on his hair.

“Good girl,” he whispers against her, parting from her for a moment to give her a little respite, resting his cheek against the inside of her thigh. Y/N blinks, looking down at him with a spacey expression and a wet face. She opens her mouth to speak but the noise gets lodged in her throat.

“That was—really nice,” a tear rolls down her cheek.

Harry smiles and presses a longing kiss to the crease of her thigh, “Yeah? Those good tears?” Y/N nods fervently. He kisses her again, and again, slowly moving back to her centre where he sponges his lips over her clit.

Y/N jumps and gasps. “Too sensitive!” But Harry strokes her hip bones gently and slicks his tongue through her folds, avoiding her pearl.

“I know, just le’ me clean you up.”

“Harry… I need to get dressed,” Y/N sighs, without attempting to move. Her head just sinks further into the pillow as her rapid heartbeat starts to calm down whilst Harry sweetly tends to her. She runs her hands through his hair and then lets it brush against her tummy, sighing as she watches the way his eyes flutter.

Just as her body hints at the idea of building back up, Harry reluctantly pulls away with glistening lips. He peels her legs from around his shoulders and climbs up to lean over her, stroking her hair from her face. Y/N nearly melts under his gaze but then she forces a frown onto her face.

Harry pinches her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Oi. What’re you grumpy about now?”

“If you’re not here when I get back, I am going to murder you, Harry.”

He laughs, dropping a wet kiss to her cheek. “That’s okay, sweetheart.”

Harry teleports to Niall’s house and quickly ushers him to follow, settling when they’re both in Y/N’s living room.

“Could’ve been preoccupied, you know?” Niall glowers. 

“Well, you weren’t.”

“I could’ve been—”

“—Did you find anything?”

Niall stares at Harry for a moment, opening his mouth and then shutting it again. For once, Harry doesn’t roll his eyes or tell him to just spit it out, instead taking a seat on Y/N’s armchair and gesturing to the sofa for Niall.

“Nothing helpful, I’m afraid, Harry. Just more of what you already know—that the unbinding incantation is lethal to humans. I’m sorry.”

Harry feels rather unaffected and Niall notices but says nothing. He’s not sure he wants to untether their souls now even if they could. He’s in too deep.

“But,” Niall continues, “I did read that as long as you don’t kiss her, your feelings should remain more manageable. Something about giving in to your souls.”

Harry looks at Niall. Niall blinks. “Harry,” he deadpans. “You haven’t.”

“Have you ever tried not wanting to kiss your fucking soulmate, Niall?”

His friend lets out a breath, leaning further back into the sofa. “Well, you’re fucked then, mate.”

Harry doesn’t necessarily agree. He might have a week ago but his priorities have changed in that short span of time. 

“Thanks for looking,” Harry finally says.

Niall looks solemn. “What are you going to do now?”

Harry smiles, “Y/N threatened murder if she came back and I wasn’t here, so…”

“Man, you are down bad.”

“Perhaps,” he shrugs.

ㅤㅤ

Meanwhile, Y/N is being grilled by Sarah for seeming different lately.

“I can’t tell if you’re on cloud nine or on tenterhooks expecting to hear bad news.”

“Maybe I’m both. Happier than I’ve ever been but waiting for it to go up in flames.”

Harry wakes up before Y/N the next morning.

(She had arrived home the day previous with bated breaths, assuring Harry and his smug face that she was serious about the murder if he hadn't been there. But he just looked at her with his teasing green eyes and coaxed her into his lap where he mocked until she squirmed.)

He wakes up with a renewed vigour, feeling his irises practically disappear as he takes in Y/N’s sleeping form. Hair a mess, face soft and unburdened of anxiety, and limbs relaxed right on top of Harry. He feels a sense of self-accomplishment that in her unconsciousness she gravitated towards him, and the longer he looks at her beautiful face, the more sure he is that he’s going to promise her longer than just right now.

In fact, however hard it is to sneak out from underneath her, he decides he’ll surprise her with breakfast too and his heart swells at the picture of her waking up in his head. She’d probably half-heartedly grumble at him for waking her up and then pretend not to be grateful for the food he presents.

Harry is busy for a little while, taking things slower than he usually would to try and stay as silent as possible. He’s just taking soft-boiled eggs off the hob when he hears it—Y/N’s cry. Everything is turned off and Harry is hurrying into her bedroom immediately, seeing her start to thrash about under the covers.

“Hey, hey,” he tries, sitting on the edge of the bed and placing a soft hand on her shoulder. “Wake up, Y/N.” A tear rolls down her nose and Harry is quick to brush it away, gently manoeuvring her so she’s laying on her back and not her side. “It’s okay, baby, wake up,” he strokes her face, tucking her hair behind her ears and smoothing out the furrow in her brows. Nothing works. Not even as he starts to shake her shoulders—Y/N only cries harder and flails more. “Come on, Bambi,” Harry starts to panic; he tries to keep it quelled but the churning in his gut is getting stronger and stronger.

It’s when Harry jostles her particularly powerfully that her eyes shoot open and his heart nearly drops out of his body when he is greeted with complete darkness. His eyes looking back at him—gone are her beautiful irises, replaced by black, soulless, foreboding ovals.

He’s seen this before, knows what’s happening, but never has he dealt with it affecting someone he cares about more than life itself. Any part of trying to help her could actually harm her.

Harry doesn’t have to guess very hard as to who it is that’s controlling her dream, and he berates himself for trying to pretend that someone didn’t exist instead of killing him days ago. How could he let this happen to her? If Harry weren’t here right now, she could be stuck in this state for however long Zennith decided. Hours, days, or even weeks.

Usually Harry would be preparing to perform a ritual to wake up whoever was inflicted, but he doesn’t have anything and his hands are shaking like leaves. He needs to pull himself together. Y/N’s eyes are still open and it’s upsetting Harry to a fault; he’ll never be useful if he falls apart. 

Gently, he brushes her eyelids closed, unnerved at how inhuman she looks. An idea plants its roots in Harry’s head as he swipes away more of Y/N’s tears, delicately holding her arms down so she doesn’t writhe. He’d never attempted it in this context before, but maybe…

ㅤㅤ

Y/N will never sleep again. She’s sure of it. The image before her is undoubtedly one that will stick with her for the rest of her measly life.

She doesn’t even remember waking up—although she’s pretty sure she isn’t fully awake because the room she is in isn't a room. It’s a lack of space, a vast darkness, with her sat in the middle and an unsettling looking man standing two feet away. She can’t move, she can’t speak, she can only blink, and feel hot streams running down her face.

“Hello, Y/N. It seems I finally entered the right person’s dreams.” His voice is slimy. Was this the demon Harry had mentioned? What was his name? “You are very pretty,” the man says, and a shiver runs down Y/N’s spine. “What’s a little human like you doing with a demon like Harry?”

Having more fun than I am with you, she thinks.

“He’s a bad man, Y/N. I’m sure he’s mentioned me, filled your head with lies.”

He doesn’t even remember you.

“He might be nice to you now, but one day he will only succumb to his true nature and kill you. He tried to kill me once.”

You probably deserved it, Y/N thinks, but the demon’s face contorts and then she realises she said it out loud. She goes to speak again but she can’t; he’s controlling her.

“Ah, yes, I see he has already tainted you.” He steps closer. Y/N desperately wishes to move backwards but none of her body responds. “That’s okay. A shame but nothing I can’t change. What is necessary will be done.”

Y/N doesn’t understand what he’s talking about, sure he must be mentally unhinged, but it doesn’t unsettle her any less as he gets closer and closer. The uncontrollable tears feel nearly scalding on her skin and she won’t blink in fear of her own safety.

“When you wake, I want you to come and find me.” His eyes darken like Harry’s, but Y/N can’t help but think that they suit Harry far better and are much less disturbing on him. “I think you’ll be much happier with me, as my little pet.” He reaches his hand out towards her face and Y/N wills every part of her being to flinch away, despite no movement happening. She feels no touch however, and notices his fingers trace the air around her cheek. He can’t, perhaps.

There’s no doubt in Y/N’s mind that whatever words the demon is speaking are supposed to have some hypnotic effect on her—but nothing in her mind changes. Nothing comes over her in a strung-out realisation, her eyes don’t round out in newfound adoration and her heart doesn’t start to speed up.

Well, it does, but not out of endearment. She can only hope her connection with Harry’s soul is what's keeping her unscathed.

The demon keeps speaking and Y/N still can’t remember his name, but her neck suddenly starts to sting and she flinches. She actually, physically moves. He looks at her, puzzled, before letting out a quiet curse.

“You come and find me,” is that last thing she hears, each word more muffled than the last as her eyes droop closed and the pain in her neck is the last thing she feels.

ㅤㅤ

Y/N wakes up with a cry, body surging forward and immediately crashing into a hard chest. Harry. It takes her a second to realise that the pain from her dream is real, and that Harry is the cause of it, as she feels his teeth pull away from her neck and watches as he leans back to see her face. She swears his eyes are glassy.

“I’m sorry, are you okay? I’m sorry, baby, I didn’t know what else to do,” Harry exhales, words jumbled. She’s never seen him lack composure—it’s disconcerting. He cups her face and wipes her tears away, pulling her up and into his chest with his arms wrapped securely around her.

“Harry?” Y/N croaks, “My neck,” she lifts a heavy hand up to touch but Harry takes it delicately.

“I know, sweetheart, m’sorry,” he lays her back down against the pillows and lightly laps at her neck, cleaning up the blood and laving over the bite. His saliva feels healing, as the pain trails away and all she can feel are Harry’s soft lips leaving tender kisses over the mark. Her eyes well up—feeling vastly overwhelmed as her dream plays back in her head. Visuals of the darkness, and the maniacal demon with the wish to own her.

“Am I definitely awake?” Y/N’s lip quivers, vision blurry with tears.

Harry’s heart sinks in his chest, taking in her crestfallen and frightened expression. “You’re awake. I promise, my sweet girl.” He places a longing kiss to her forehead, thumbs determined in the cleaning of her tears. “I promise.” He kisses her nose, and then her cheek, and Y/N is turning to catch his lips—uncaring as the blood from his mouth and the salt from hers mingle together in an seismic kiss.

Y/N grips his hands desperately, tightly—as if they ground her—and Harry’s mouth presses harder to hers in return. Harder yet still tender, treating her with such fragility that only he can deliver. Her whole body feels weak and her eyelids are so heavy.

“I’m so sorry,” Harry whispers against her lips as they part. “This is my fault. I should’ve taken care of Zennith a long time ago.” He plants a little peck.

“Are you—going to—leave me—now?” Y/N blubs, fat drops sliding onto the pillow.

“Never,” Harry swears. “Never, Y/N, I promise.” His hands frame her entire face, as she blinks sadly up at him. Tears cloud her vision. “Was g’na tell you this morning. Was making y’brekkie ‘n’ everything.” She sniffles loudly. “I don’t want to ever be away from you again, my little Bambi.” Y/N’s face screws up as more tears fall, but these ones are less forlorn, as she tugs Harry down on top of her. He tucks his face into her neck, kissing over his bite mark once again.

When her sniffles have lessened, Harry pushes his arms underneath Y/N’s body and rolls them over so she’s resting on top of him. She sinks into him easily, limbs too heavy to hold up, and Harry’s insides roil at how weak she seems.

“Why did you bite me?” Y/N mumbles into his chest. “Like some sort of dog.”

Harry exhales a laugh and rubs a soothing palm along her back. “It’s a temporary scenting bite—they have protective qualities… among other things… I didn’t know if it would work.”

She doesn’t say anything for a moment. And then, “What else will it do to me?”

“You’ll probably be a little needier for a couple days. I might be too. Would be stiff right now if the circumstances were any different.”

“Oh,” she breathes, “do you want…” her hand tries to move downwards but Harry’s gathering it up immediately.

“No, baby. I was far too worried about you to be thinking with my dick. And you need rest.”

“I’mfine,” Y/N says but the words slur together and Harry has been watching her very, definitely closed eyes for the past two minutes.

“I won’t move an inch,” he promises. “Dream of me this time, Bambi.”

ㅤㅤ

Sure enough, it’s as if Harry hadn’t even been breathing when Y/N reawakens after her second, much more pleasant sleep. But she stirs to the comforting feeling of his warm chest rising and falling and nuzzles her face further into his body, tucking underneath his chin like a little puppy.

He carries her (despite Y/N’s adamance that she can walk just fine), and feeds her, and even offers to dress her but Y/N insists she has full control over her body. Harry is serious though, in his worry for her—doesn’t find any part of it humorous and she has to try hard not to tease him for it.

ㅤㅤ

“I have to kill him,” Harry states from next to her. Y/N has just finished explaining the details of her dream and it jostles her a little but she surprises herself by not minding one bit.

“Okay,” she says. “What if you get hurt?”

And Harry doesn’t mean to be patronising but he laughs, “I’ll be just fine, Y/N.” 

She frowns, “I’m serious. I’m allowed to worry about you too. I don’t even know what this guy is so het up about.”

“I know,” Harry sighs, scratching at his jaw. “I wish I could remember him.” He places a hand on her knee. “But it doesn’t matter now, he’s given me more than enough reason to make sure he isn’t a problem anymore.”

Y/N nods silently.

“How’s your neck feeling?” Harry brushes his knuckle over the mark.

“Fine,” she hums. 

“Don’t feel needy or anything?”

“No.”

“No?” Harry smiles. “Then why are you gripping me so tight?”

Y/N looks down to see her fingers wrapped around his hand on her knee and she frowns. She doesn’t pull away though, she just glares at Harry who pinches her cheek in return.

“You’re cruel,” she grumbles.

Harry’s grin widens, “Yeah,” he leans in, “I’m mean,” closer, “really, so very mean,” he breathes against her mouth, eyes daring to flick to hers before they flutter closed and their lips meet. His hand takes her throat tenderly, not applying pressure, just holding as Y/N mollifies into his kiss. She turns his palm up and intertwines their fingers, squeezing subconsciously when Harry sucks on her top lip.

And he couldn’t find her any cuter, he’s sure, when she leans into him—unaware of her own movements. Harry tries moving back, just to tease, but Y/N follows him like a magnet; lips refusing to part. When he wants to actually speak, he squeezes her throat with the least amount of strength, not expecting her to melt even further into him. He shouldn’t have been surprised. But he doesn’t bring it up now.

“I’m going to have Niall come here for a bit,” he mumbles against her mouth. She’s trying her hardest to keep kissing him.

“Why?” Y/N whines, too enraptured to think about anything other than Harry and his lips.

“To keep you company.” To keep you safe.

She blinks up at him then, forcing her face to distance itself farther than two inches. “No,” she pouts, doing a wonderful job of proving she isn’t feeling needy. “Do you have to go now?”

“Yes, Y/N.” Harry squeezes her hand.

And he can tell that she wants to protest further, so he leans in once again and sponges his lips all over her face—doesn’t stop until she’s giggling and struggling, trying to move away from his unrelenting tickles. She falls back and Harry moves with her, hovering over her body on the sofa as he places sloppy kisses on her skin and trails his hands down her body to find the most reactive spots.

“Harry!” she squeals, wriggling underneath him. “S-Stop!” Her hands flap about, trying to cease his torture. Harry can’t help but smile down at her, eyes shining with fulfilment. “I’ll pee!” She panics and Harry slows down but doesn’t stop.

“How do you know I’m not into that?” He teases and Y/N gasps, determined to escape his grasp.

“Harry! Gross!” And he finally stops his ministrations, leaning back to give her some space as her chest heaves. His hands rest on her waist as he sits back, taking in her mussed hair and glowing face.

“I have to go now or I’ll never do it,” he whispers. Y/N feels her heart swell at the way he’s looking at her. She understands. But she still manages to keep him over her for another ten minutes.

Zennith is pitifully easy to find.

Harry almost feels humiliated at how much the demon has affected Y/N’s life when Harry could have tracked and located him in no longer than five minutes.

Using everything he knows about Zennith, Harry closes his eyes and searches—bounces from place to place with no resistance. Is unsurprised at the lack of concealment of scent or location Zennith has in situ. He retraces moments, smells, and faces that lead Harry in the right direction until he can see a clear outline of where he needs to go.

He also sees the clear outline of an additional presence that Harry hadn’t considered he might have to deal with.

Lucifer’s new abode is similar in size and shape, the only major difference Harry notices being the colour scheme. In his previous dwelling, the Devil had an ironically mild decor, however the deep red and black walls in this interior is the first thing Harry sees, and it unnerves him some.

The fact he’s managed to find Lucifer’s residence without asking and has ambled in with entitlement does cross his mind, but Harry thinks he might get away with it when the demon in question spots him from his gaudy throne and flashes a disturbing smile with open arms.

“Harry Styles. What a wonderful surprise.”

“Hello,” he says, hands making their way behind his back in a subconscious stance.

“I don’t believe you’re supposed to be here but you are a sight for sore eyes.” Lucifer smiles, unabashed.

Harry hesitates, “Sorry… I’m looking for someone. I was led here.”

Lucifer hums, “You’re a good tracker,” and then clicks his fingers a few times, eyes never leaving Harry.

A man steps into the room. A man that Harry recognises. A man that Harry’s fists recognise. Surely not. That was nearly eighty years ago… 

They lock eyes and the demon’s suddenly fill with black. Harry matches him in defence, hands clenching by his side.

“You’re still a bully then,” Harry grits. Out of the corner of his eye, Lucifer sits back to enjoy the scene before him.

Zennith steps further into the room. “Funny… I don’t recall you being the one beaten to within an inch of his life.”

Harry laughs, “You’ve been hanging onto this for eighty years, have you? I didn’t even fucking know your name back then.”

He sees the frown on the demon’s face, before it’s quickly concealed. “No.” He’s sharp. “I moved on. Was happy to forget about the cunt who fucked up my face for his own enjoyment.” Harry clenches his teeth. “And then Boss was telling me about his latest fun… and your name was mentioned. Took me back, didn’t it?” His eyes glower. 

Harry is still processing that the demon before him that’s been causing him trouble is the kid he knocked out when he was nineteen (because he was shouting abuse at Harry, he feels is necessary to add). How pathetic he is to hold a grudge for nearly eighty years (may as well be one hundred if you round it up) and how entitled he seems. 

“I think you’re forgetting some details,” Harry grunts.

“Silence,” Zennith snaps, composure cracking, dark eyes close to producing fog. “Thought I would see how you were doing. See if you were still a depressed little loser. It’s been disappointing to see your disgustingly soft mingling with the humans. Even more disappointing that my friend was unable to have any fun before you vanquished him… That girl really is very pretty.”

Harry’s body tightens up at the sound of Zennith’s sleazy voice mentioning Y/N. He tries to act unbothered but anyone could see his anger double at the perverted nature of his comment.

“It’s a shame she likes you,” he sighs. “You must have your claws in real fuckin’ deep for that dream to have not worked. I’m sure you were there, watching it all happen.”

For a moment, Harry feels undeservedly grateful to Lucifer for not saying anything about the real reason Zennith’s magic didn’t work. But then he decides it wouldn’t matter either way.

Harry stalks towards the demon that might as well still be a little brat of a teenager—he has the mental capacity, that’s for sure. “I don’t know what you think is going to happen now, but I’m sure you won’t enjoy it.”

Zennith backs up with a laugh, eyes momentarily clearing with surprise, “What?” He tries to pretend it’s a windup—a silly, harmless prank. “It’s not that serious, man. Hardly worth going to all the trouble of a fight.”

“Perhaps you’re right. Maybe if you’ll apologise for those things you said to me all that time ago, I’ll feel less murderous,” Harry goads.

“You fucking prissy, you want me to say sorry? You were a sad excuse for a demon then and you’re an even sadder one now.”

Harry hums, well and truly unaffected by the words of a demon who had to cower behind someone else as they did his dirty work, and traumatise a human girl through her dream, “No apology then?”

“Boss, are you gonna let him get away with this?” Zennith throws his hands up in the air, exasperatedly looking at Lucifer.

The Devil simply smiles—making no move to help at all—encouraging the chaos and showing no signs of concern for his employee. Zennith deflates then, with realisation that this could not go his way. The three of them all know that Harry overpowers, every day of the week. He did when he was nineteen, and he will at ninety-eight.

“What the fuck.” Zennith sighs, watching as Harry steps closer and closer. He’s lost his nerve.

ㅤㅤ

Harry thinks that maybe a torturous death is deserved, but all he really wants is to get it over and done with and return to Y/N—who is no doubt having her ear talked off by Niall.

So he makes it quick. Pins Zennith still with his monochromatic eyes—wonders what he’d been doing all this time to be so weak as his arms fall heavily by his sides—and feels as his skull splinters and shatters into pieces and pierces his brain. Watches as his body crumbles and turns to ash before it hits the ground; the pained sounds of the demon echoing throughout Lucifer’s lair before the deafening silence takes over.

Harry’s frowning, eyes closed to purge the image from his head and to try and remove himself from this mindset before he gets really dangerous.

“How debonair!” Lucifer claps. “I usually make so much mess but that… that was beautifully done.”

Harry doesn’t have the control to appease the Devil and his unreturned flirting right now. He hums.

“Shame though, I suppose. He was a good servant… someone will have to take his place.” Harry’s stomach drops and his eyes snap open. Shit. Lucifer is already smiling at him. No, no, no. “Come here.”

His footsteps are light as he makes his way over to Lucifer’s throne. Harry’s not sure he can feel his body at all. He stops in front of him, hands making their way behind his back once more.

“No. Right… here,” Lucifer points to his side. This is where I’ll be standing for the rest of my life, Harry thinks. One hundred, two hundred, three hundred years—

Lucifer presents his cheek, expectantly. Harry blanches. “Be a good demon and prove your loyalty,” he teases. Harry’s heart is beating rapidly, scared that at any moment he’ll be trapped, or killed, or that Y/N will become unsafe and Harry won’t be able to stop it. Hesitantly, he leans down, lips jutting out reluctantly as he forces himself to press a small and obviously uncomfortable kiss to the cheek of the ruler of Hell.

The demon looks accomplished when Harry steps back and clears his throat without saying a word, clearly basking in the glory of belittling and humiliating.

“Okay, off you go now.” Harry nearly chokes on his own saliva, the breath from his lungs forced out.

“I can leave?”

“Yes, yes, go on. I do hope I’ll see you again soon, Harry.”

Y/N likes Niall very much.

Understandably, at first she was unsure; their first meeting not ideal to say the least.. A stranger appears in your home whilst you’re not there and it unnerves you some, to say the least. But he’s kind—really kind. And he gets her hesitation; doesn’t try to force an overbearing friendship which ultimately has Y/N opening much quicker than she usually would.

Niall basks in the joy of getting to tell tales about Harry—things he’s never really been able to tell anyone before. And Y/N can see how much he loves having the upperhand between the two for once—revels in narrating sneaky embarrassing stories whilst Harry isn’t there to tell him off. Y/N finds herself giggling and gasping, leaning towards Niall and holding onto his every word. 

It feels good to know more about Harry. And his closest friend.

Niall doesn’t pry either, which is an instant relief to Y/N. He doesn’t prod, or poke, or demand answers—he just fills the silence with lighthearted conversation which is all Y/N could ask for right now.

There is a moment where quiet overtakes them and Y/N’s mind drifts, just a little.

“Hey,” Niall says gently, “don’t you worry about a thing,” he smiles softly. “Harry’s the toughest sod I know.”

Y/N smiles back, not quite reaching her eyes but she appreciates his words.

“You know, one time…” Niall starts off again, detailing a story involving Harry, three vampires, and a lot of bite wounds. (In hindsight, maybe that isn’t the best story to tell but Niall is only trying to demonstrate Harry’s toughness!)

“You gossiping about me?” A familiar drawl sounds from behind them. Y/N gasps and twists around on the sofa to see a very normal looking Harry standing in the doorway of her bedroom. She hesitates, aware of Niall’s presence, until Harry opens his arms out.

“Come ‘ere, Bambi,” he smiles with tired eyes.

Y/N scrambles over to him, content in his arms as they wrap around her and she buries her face into his chest, inhaling not-so-subtly. She misses the look Harry and Niall give one another, a clear understanding between the two. 

“You look… fine?” Y/N says when she pulls back.

Harry laughs easily, “Fine? You wanted me to come home bloody and bruised, did you?” His hands span across her waist.

“No!” She exclaims, “I was worried, is all. That you would be hurt.”

He smiles, brushing his thumbs against her. “Are you alright?”

Niall chirps up at the question, “Excuse me, we had a lovely time, didn’t we, Y/N?” She nods. “Are you alright?” he mocks, “she’s bloody great.”

“Okay, Niall, I’m sorry for asking, I’ll never doubt you again.” Harry sighs but it’s playful.

“Are you okay, Harry?” Y/N asks, big eyes looking up at him. His heart softens and he’d kiss her if his friend wasn’t watching.

“I’m just fine, like you said.”

They must hold eye contact for longer than they realise, as Niall clears his throat.

“Are you two alright if I…”

“Yeah, o’course,” Harry says, briefly tearing his eyes away from Y/N. “Thank you,” he says sincerely. Niall nods, smiling back, and then he’s gone.

“So… Niall was telling me some interesting things about you.”

ㅤㅤ

Y/N watches as Harry gets on his knees, rolling the sleeves of his shirt up his forearms with no intention of being erotic as he starts to swill out the bathtub. 

But Y/N is a little overwhelmed. He’s here, and they’re together…she thinks. She’s not sure but she doesn’t want to ask—wonders if it’s a silly thing to ponder. For its blatancy or how preposterous it may be.

So she focuses on the one thing she does know—Harry’s ridiculous allure. She watches his back contract under his shirt, stretching the material when he leans over to turn the tap off and his biceps strain when he swishes the water around to clean the tub.

If Harry hears the steady increase of her heart rate then he doesn’t say anything. Only puts the plug in, turns on the hot tap, and generously pours her nicest bubble bath in. And when he stands up from the floor and turns to face her, his mouth is upturned at her swoony expression.

“Pupils a bit big, sweetheart,” he teases, fingers trailing up her arm.

Y/N scoffs, “No, they’re not,” but she has no other point to her argument and no willpower to try to find one. So instead she closes her eyes.

“Hey, don’t hide them from me.” Harry’s fingers digs into her waist and she squeals, eyes snapping back open. “Mine are bigger than yours anyway,” he smiles before he lets the whites and irises of his eyes disappear for just a second.

Y/N still finds herself to be fascinated by his ability to do that, among many other things. But she’s not scared—never scared. “Show off,” she whispers.

“Only because I’m trying to impress you,” Harry leans closer, a wry grin on his face. “Is it working?”

Y/N pushes against his chest, “You’re corny,” but she’s smiling too, and her palms don’t budge him one bit as he covers them with his own and pulls her in further. She’s elated to be here with him but she feels herself not quite knowing how to act.

Harry notices (of course he notices). “You’re on edge, huh?” He looks guilty as he strokes her arms. “Gonna let me take care of you now?” He nods towards the tub. Y/N’s eyes flutter closed as she agrees with a hum. “You’ve got nothing to worry about anymore, I promise, Bambi.”

“Will—” she hesitates, talking once Harry turns his back to make sure the water temperature is okay. He looks over his shoulder. “Will you get in with me?” She supposes there’s no reason to be bashful but a bath is intimate—would Harry want that?

He just smiles and bites back a mocking comment. “I was planning on it,” and Y/N really doesn’t know what’s come over her to feel so shy all of a sudden, because she’d wanted him to get in with her but now she feels silly for even asking! You’ve already seen each other naked! She thinks, desperate to pull herself together.

“You’re overthinking, hm? Working yourself up,” Harry gently prompts, suddenly looming over her, focusing all of her senses.

“Sorry,” Y/N frowns, looking at the floor. Harry doesn’t chastise her, just cups her face softly and angles her head up before pressing his lips to hers. It’s not tactical; not intended to go anywhere, which he makes obvious by keeping his mouth closed. He kisses slowly, leaves her with a soft noise as they part, and then does it again. And again. Until Y/N is sighing—much more relaxed.

Harry pushes his hand under her shirt to rest on her tummy that he’s found himself growing somewhat obsessed with. He leans away from her to pull the fabric up her body and Y/N lifts her arms to make it easier. As soon as it lands in the corner of the room, Harry is back to doting, warm hands sliding up and down Y/N’s arms, along her shoulders to cup her face, down her back, along her waist.

Y/N would say she feels sufficiently warmed up already but Harry continues, kissing her innocently again as his hands move to push down her trousers, fiddling with the button. Y/N feels around for his own shirt, timidly pulling it up to reveal his broad back. Harry peels it over his head and in turn she steps out of her trousers.

“You’re so soft,” Harry whispers against her mouth, lips pouting to press another mindless kiss. His hands are eager to touch every inch of her skin. And soon enough they’re both clad in only underwear, Y/N huddling closer to Harry’s chest when he unclips her bra. “Ready to get in?” He asks, rubbing soothing circles into her back.

ㅤㅤ

Y/N can feel every part of Harry against her back as she relaxes into his hold and it’s perhaps the most intimate moment of her life. She’s had sex less close than this. The thick of his thighs encasing her own, the span of his hands wandering her body—lathering her in soap—the feel of his hard chest and the softer parts of his tummy and hips, and the sure hardening of him against her.

Her head was surely muddled before they’d undressed, but now Y/N is confident she is a touch away from just floating off like a feather in the wind. Harry coats her skin in bubbles, encouraging in the way he coaxes her head onto his shoulder. When he dunks the sponge in the water and brings it back up to wash the foam away, Y/N’s breath hitches as the droplets hit her nipples and she feels Harry’s cheek squish up into a small smile.

“Breathe,” he speaks, turning his face into her temple. Y/N exhales shakily, nuzzling into him and Harry lays a delicate press of his lips between her brows before continuing his ministrations. “Are you feeling relaxed?” He asks, already aware of the answer. When Y/N nods hastily, Harry hums, “Not relaxed enough…” the words brushing against her skin, “I think I can do better.”

Gently, he lets the sponge float on the surface, replacing it with his hands as he runs his nails down her arms. Y/N’s chest is rising and falling at an obvious speed and her eyes are struggling to stay open; the anticipation affecting her considerably. “Would you feel better if I touched you…” his hands hover over her breasts, “...here?” He squeezes them far too softly but Y/N still lets out a noise—one that intensifies when Harry tugs and rolls her nipples between his fingers. “Is that nice, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” Y/N exhales, unable to concentrate on anything other than the thrumming of her body.

“Are you g’na watch how good I make you feel?” He prompts, nudging her with his nose. Y/N feels like her eyes are glued shut but she makes the effort to peel them open, tilting her chin down to see Harry’s big hands cupping her. She feels a wave roll inside of her. “There’s a good girl,” he praises, and the wave gets bigger. She never tries harder than when he says those words. “You tell me, baby, what do you want me to do?”

Y/N’s never been asked that before. “Whatever you want,” she says to him; not for the first time.

“No,” Harry asserts, “what do you do when you’re alone, hm? How many fingers do you squeeze inside yourself?”

And Y/N would be scorching with embarrassment usually but the arousal she feels overpowers it. Though it’s still hard to speak, “I don’t— m’fingers aren’t long enough—o-or I’m just not good. Doesn’t do anything.”

She may as well have shot Niall right in front of Harry, the way he gasps. It’s mocking, of course, but he sounds genuinely dissatisfied with her answer. “That’s so sad, Bambi. Pretty pussy like yours should be getting stuffed full and satisfied.” His hands are still playing with her tits, running back and forth over the pebbled peaks, and squeezing the flesh which aids the pant she lets out from his erotic words. “You want me to teach you?” Y/N shakes her head no, too desperate for Harry’s touch. “No? You want my fingers?” She’s quick to agree as he trails a hand down her body, over her ribs, and her tummy, and her mound—daring to dip lower.

“Please?”

“Mm, mine are much longer and thicker than yours, aren’t they?” His other hand pinches her nipple and Y/N arches her back as her hips struggle to coax Harry lower. “Nothing in comparison to my cock though, Bambi. How are you g’na take me if you don’t even fuck yourself with your fingers, hm?”

“I will, I will!” She rushes out. “I can take you. Please touch me, Harry.” Y/N turns her face into his jaw and sponges open-mouthed kisses wherever she can reach.

“We’ll make it fit, won’t we?” Harry presses down on her clit and Y/N moans into his skin, nodding unabashedly. He travels lower to gather the wetness between her thighs. And Harry knows they’re submerged in water but the thick substance that coats his fingers is unmistakable—he wishes he could lap it up.

Harry’s cock is stiff against Y/N’s back and each time she arches and rests back against it, he sighs into her ear; pretty and provoked. She is thrumming—vibrating with want—never had anyone edge her so close to orgasming by hardly touching her. Her hands lay useless on Harry’s knees, subconsciously gripping him when he starts circling her clit with intent.

“Don’t close your eyes,” he orders, overly aware of her every move. It’s hard, not to just lay back and feel but Y/N keeps her eyes as open as possible, watching the flex of Harry’s wrist and the movement of his fingers over her. Her abdomen starts to flutter as he builds her up but Harry takes his hand away before she can start to give into it.

Y/N wants to whine and whinge but then his hand returns lower, fingers circling her entrance before he dips a single one inside. And his really are much longer and thicker than hers because it already feels better than when she tries and he’s only got one finger in.

Slowly, does Harry enter her, allowing for the adjust before deliciously curling and hitting the spongy place inside that has Y/N gasping and tightening her grip on Harry’s knees. She instinctively clenches around him; Harry has to bite back a tease about how desperate her body is and draws his finger back and forth inside of her warmth. Her eyes close for less than a second but in that time he pulls out of her and she snaps them back open, a plea on the tip of her tongue but it’s not necessary, as Harry sinks in a second finger beside the first and stretches her out some. It’s not an uncomfortable feeling, but one of immense fullness and warm buzzing throughout her tummy as he perfectly stimulates her with every curl and drive.

“Y’squeezing me so tight,” Harry says, voice gravelly—turned on—as the hand holding Y/N’s breast moves down to her stomach to readjust and pull her tighter against him. She gazes at the vastness of his hand on her body and then to the one moving inside of her and another wave passes and pulsates between her legs and around Harry’s fingers as he speeds up, thumb stretching to pass over her clit in focused circles. “You’re g’na feel so good around my cock, Bambi,” he twitches against her back. “I can’t wait to fuck you.” Y/N mewls, body pushing into Harry’s hands. “You’ll let me, won’t you?” His breath is warm against her neck.

“Yes, anything,” she sighs, hand finding his and desperately gripping. He interlocks their fingers against her tummy as he starts to press contrastingly precious kisses to her jaw and neck. Y/N’s so close her body is tensing up in anticipation. “Please, please, please.”

“I’ve got you, come on, baby. Come f’me,” he litters kisses between breaths and Y/N is so close, so close. Throws her head back and lets her eyes shut—and Harry allows it, occupied by the stretch of her neck as he licks and sucks and rubs and fucks her until his fingers are being squeezed impossibly tight and she’s coming around him. She lets out the prettiest of noises, writhing in his grip as he guides her through her orgasm and his dick starts to become demanding the more she moves and moans, her body against him feeling like the softest of velvets or silks. 

But he ignores it; ignores everything but Y/N.

She blindly searches for his kiss, body melting in bliss as she comes down from the intense heights of pleasure. Mewling and sighing into him with each press of their open mouths. His fingers stay inside of her, reveling in the subtle but sure pulses she gives, unable to resist the urge of curling them a little to make her jump in his arms.

“You’ll become greedy for that,” he mutters against her lips before nibbling her bottom one and pulling back to look into her satisfied eyes—big and moony, just for him.

She hums, unashamed in her post-orgasmic haze. “Is it your turn now?”

ㅤㅤ

Harry wanted to devour her whole as soon as those words left her mouth—wanted to push her back and have his way with her. But the bath water was cooling, and their skin was getting all pruned, and realistically Harry knew that fucking her for the first time would not be happening in the tub. She deserved better than to be pounced upon in a claustrophobic box.

And Harry was already good at ignoring his needs so what difference would five minutes make?

He kisses her with a smile on his face, slowly pushing upwards to get out of the tub. Her gaze follows him hungrily, lips threatening to pout if he doesn’t start paying attention to her again immediately. But he gathers a towel and helps her out, wrapping her up—delicately and thoroughly drying her body. It’s hard for Harry not to swaddle her completely and smother her face in kisses but he resists.

Teasingly, he wanders her backwards towards her bedroom, towel still pressed to her body; watching how hard Y/N is trying not to make a fuss. He thinks she’s doing a pretty good job until he realises her true intentions, seemingly forgetting the speed of Harry’s reflexes. When the edge of Y/N’s bed touches her calf, she attempts to spin around—the motivation of pushing him down irresistible in her head. She barely turns a fraction, however, before Harry’s hand is clamping around her bicep and squashing their fronts together.

“No,” Y/N whines, “I was trying to be sexy.”

“You’re very sexy,” Harry smiles, nose dropping to rub against hers.

“But—” 

Harry knows what she wants. He also knows how prettily she begs for him, and how easily too. Thinks he wants to push that button a little.

“What does my needy baby want?”

Though it seems he’s underestimated her on this occasion, as she tries very hard to display bratty behaviour and stand her ground. Y/N crosses her arms across her chest, ripping the towel from Harry’s grasp to cover up by herself.

“You don’t wanna tell me?” He tries, wondering how quickly he’ll be able to dismantle her walls. When Y/N shakes her head, he ups his game. “S’not very nice, is it? Made you come on my fingers but you won’t be good f’me?” Her heart drops a little, guilt seeping in. But she won’t beg. She won’t.

“I—”

“I was gonna be so nice to you, little thing. Make you come around my cock until you couldn’t think straight… but if you can’t even tell me what you want then I guess you won’t get anything, huh.”

She’s gripping the towel so tightly, knuckles bulging. “I am… good,” she tries, eyes falling down to his nakedness. It looks near painful. All she wants is to taste him.

Harry hums, “You usually are. Where’s she gone? My good girl.” He covers her hands, removing them from the towel so he can tug her closer. “Just tell me what you want, baby. Always so pretty when you beg.” Harry dips down, pushing the towel to the floor as his lips meet her neck and his hands slide across her ribs, thumbs brushing over her nipples.

She’s done for; never stood a chance. Not really. She squeaks as he grazes his teeth along her skin. “I want you… in my mouth… please.” The words come out breathy, shallow. But they’re hardly desperate.

“You can do better than that,” Harry says, pulling back to look into her eyes. “Prove that you want it.”

And her shyness has returned some—so it’s harder for her—but she shuffles closer, palms gliding up his biceps. “I wanna… make you feel good. The way you do for me,” she whispers. And it’s so soft, Harry can’t help but be taken aback. It wasn’t begging in the way he was used to but his heart swells. “You deserve it all the time. Please let me.”

“All the time?” Harry smiles. “You want my cock in your mouth all the time?”

“Yes,” Y/N breathes, looser now. “Please?”

And who was he to say no? When she thought he deserved it so much.

Harry moves to sit on the edge of the bed, reaching behind him to grab one of her pillows to stuff under her knees as she kneels down. He strokes her hair, tucking it behind her ears and gathering it in his hands before it can fall around her face. Y/N rests her cheek on his knee, eyes glued to his shiny, red tip as it stands against his stomach.

“You trying to tease me, Bambi?” He tugs her hair a little.

“No…” she bites her lip to hide the smile, coyly looking up at him.

He doesn’t have to reply because Y/N’s leaning forward and licking a broad stripe along the entirety of him, eliciting a sigh from Harry as he watches her intently. She brings a hand up, angling him towards her mouth so she can kiss at his head, tongue darting out to taste the salty precome that’s spilling out of his slit. The grip in her hair tightens when she starts to suckle at him—she goes crazy for it, humming around his cock as she starts to move her hand up and down around him.

His noises have her thighs squeezing together; low and rumbling. Y/N knows they get higher in pitch the closer he is to coming and she is determined to get him there.

“Take me deeper,” Harry demands, hand wrapping around his base to encourage her. “Know you can.”

“Mhm,” Y/N hums around him, letting her jaw drop for Harry to feed his cock into her mouth. She can’t take all of him, but she tries all the same. Flutters her eyes shut and focuses on breathing through her nose as she drags her tongue along the underside of him and works whatever she can’t fit with her hand. When she starts to bob her head in coordinated movements and sucks her cheeks in, Harry’s abs tense and his head falls back on his shoulders.

“Hot little mouth,” he manages to say through a moan. “Made for me… made for my cock, isn’t that right, sweetheart?” When she hums again and the vibrations shoot through him, he bucks slightly, gagging her on him. Y/N retracts sharply but her insides still flip-flop about. “Fuck,” Harry groans, pulling her off him by her hair. Her hand doesn’t stop as she catches her breath. “Sorry, baby, feels so good.”

Her rounded out eyes look at him like he’d carved the Earth for her personally. She really would let him do anything.

“You wanna make me come?” He strokes her cheek as she nods. “Go on then. Make me come and then I’ll put my cock in you.” Harry relishes in the way Y/N’s eyebrows cinch together at the excitement and desperation, and her thighs squeeze impossibly tight as she takes him back into her mouth. She has a newfound determination, taking him as far down her throat as she can go before withdrawing to take a deep breath and then continuing. Her hand twists and squeezes, moving up to thumb at his drippy head when she leans back to breathe—and Harry’s chest is heaving more and more, eyes slipping in and out of their demonic state as she works him.

It’s when she leans back down as start tonguing at his frenulum that Harry moans and twitches, leaking out and into her mouth. “Yeah—yes, fuck. Keep going.” A whine gets caught in his throat as his head falls forward, chin touching his chest and his jaw loose. They make eye contact as she stretches her lips back around his tip, sucking and licking—so desperate to taste his come. And he’s close, moans after every breath and struggles keeping his hips down.

“G’na come,” Harry whines. “G’na come down your throat.” Y/N mewls around him, sinking further down and speeding up her hand until she starts to feel the warm spurts filling her mouth. Harry’s noises make her spine tingle as he praises her, “Good girl— swallow it all—so good. Fuck,” hands threading gently through her hair as he comes down.

ㅤㅤ

He barely softens, grateful for his demon stamina because he thinks he might drop dead if he doesn’t get inside Y/N in an instant. “Come ‘ere,” he says with a rumble, pulling her up by her underarms until she’s straddling Harry’s hips. His cock rubs against the both of them, spreading saliva and precome across their stomachs. Y/N surges forward, catching his mouth in desperation as she grinds down, angling herself to rub her wetness against his dick.

“In,” she whines against his lips, clit perfectly stimulated as she humps him. “Want it in now, please.”

Harry strokes his tongue against hers, licking into her like she’s made of honey whilst he takes a hold of himself, smearing her arousal as he paints his head through her folds. Y/N gasps, hips stuttering when she feels his thick mushroom tip prod against her entrance.

“Relax f’me, baby. Breathe nice and slow.” She listens, inhaling as deep as she can as she slowly lowers down. The stretch of him is nearly overwhelming but it’s delicious and her hands have to shoot out for grounding, one landing on Harry’s shoulder and the other cupping his cheek. He tilts his face into it, pressing a soft kiss to the spongy part of her palm. “That’s good,” he whispers as he gets deeper and deeper inside of her, “you’re so beautiful.” Y/N’s eyes squeeze shut with emotion, forehead dropping against Harry’s.

He’s fully inside her now and Y/N is sitting on him, adjusting to the feel and trying not to squirm. Harry starts teasing again once he feels her begin to grind her clit against his pelvis. “You gonna ride me?” Y/N nods, lifting up slightly before dropping back down. “You think your wobbly little legs will be able to cope with that, Bambi?” Harry grins, pushing forward to kiss her open mouth.

“I can do it,” Y/N whimpers, lifting up further. “I can.” She drops back down harder, moaning at the feeling of Harry hitting that spot inside of her. He maintains much more composure than she does, looking at her through his lashes as she starts to bounce up and down, and sliding his palms across her back.

“Am I filling you up good?” Y/N whines, nodding. “Told you we’d make it fit, didn’t I? Taking me so well, baby.” And he places a hand on her lower stomach, pressing in slightly with a smirk on his face. “Can you feel me here?”

“Uh-huh, so big,” Y/N moans, looking down to see his large hand span across her.

“G’na make you feel empty without me,” Harry promises, leaning down to take one of Y/N’s breasts into his mouth, sucking a mark into her skin. Her thighs are already starting to burn—each movement harder than the last as their bodies slap against one another.

“Harry,” Y/N mewls, hands threading through his hair. He hums into her chest, moving to her other breast and giving it the same treatment. His hands hold tightly onto her waist, assisting her movements up and down on his cock more and more until he finally leans back.

“You need my help now, don’t you? Told you you couldn’t do it, little thing.” Y/N frowns, grip tightening in Harry’s hair. “Just need me to take care of you.”

“Please,” she begs—for what exactly she’s not sure but Harry knows what she needs.

Confidently, Harry grips the underside of Y/N’s thighs, shuffling back on the bed so he can pull his knees up. She doesn’t get long enough to prepare before Harry starts fucking up into her with no warning. Y/N struggles, but she manages to throw her arms around his neck, hiding her face into the side of his as he pounds into her—the harsh clapping sounds of their bodies hitting each other echoing throughout the room.

She’s so wet, it’s surprising that there isn’t a puddle on Harry’s abdomen as he holds her up and drives his cock into her again, and again. Y/N is a mess of noise, mouth stuck open and whimpering into Harry’s skin as he fucks her until she can’t think of anything else.

“My little human just takes whatever I give her, huh?” His deep, punctuated voice mixed with mocking words sends her already muddled brain into even more of a tizzy.

“Only you—feels so good,” Y/N manages to cry. “I’m g’na—”

“—Look at me,” Harry weaves a hand through her hair and pulls her out of his neck. “Look at me when I make you come. All over my cock, yeah?”

“Yes—yes, all over,” Y/N keeps her half-lidded eyes on him; a monumental struggle when Harry moves his hand from her hair to her clit, rubbing messily over her. His pounding subsides none, getting harder if anything—going balls deep with every thrust—and all she wants is to collapse into him but she doesn’t look away, despite how kinked her brows become and how much her body screams at her to throw her head back.

It hits her staggeringly, eyes fighting to roll into the back of her head as she cries out and squeezes Harry’s cock, orgasm stifling her. He slows down his thrusts, hands rubbing soothingly into her back as she mindlessly whimpers his name.

“I know, sweetheart, I’ve got you,” he tenderly adjusts them, flipping her onto her back so she can melt into the mattress. “Have you got one more? Can you give me one more, baby?” He asks, her cunt still pulsating around him.

“Slow,” Y/N whispers, eyes blurry, “please.”

Harry leans down, pressing sweet kisses to her forehead, eyebrows, nose, cheeks, hips pushing into her breathtakingly slowly. A lazy smile overtakes her features as Harry dotes on her, pouting up at him with a spacey expression. He complies easily, moulding his lips to hers. It’s gentle, the sound their mouths make as they part—Harry traces his thumb across her bottom lip, pulling it down and watching it snap back up before licking her open and feeding her his tongue.

It’s hard for Y/N to muster up the strength enough to kiss him back, and her reactions are delayed, but Harry doesn’t mind; happy to be so close. 

And in a moment of vulnerability he quietly asks, “You really want me?”

Y/N knows he’s not talking about sex, bringing a leaden hand up to his face and stroking his cheek. “More than anything, Harry.”

His heart inflates ten times the size of his chest, he’s sure—he’s never known anything to feel so good, but Y/N was his person, and she wanted him.

Harry’s orgasm approaches rapidly at her words, and he’s desperate to get Y/N there again, hand trailing down her body to find her puffy clit. She jumps at the feeling.

“Shh, I know you’re sensitive, baby. Just need one more,” he kisses her again. “Be good f’me and then I’ll give you my come.” Y/N whines, trying to turn her head into the mattress. “Where would you like it? On your tits? Your ass?” He thrusts in harder. “I think I’d like it on your tummy, what d’you think?”

“Yes,” Y/N moans, unspecific in her agreement.

Harry laughs. “You don’t think anything, do you? Just lay there all pretty and let me do all the hard work.” His hips snap against her harder and harder—pace still slow but he’s hitting her spongy spot unquestionably as Y/N grips onto his biceps that bulge underneath her palms.

“Harry,” she cries, pussy starting to flutter around him.

He groans, “Fuck, squeeze my cock like that. You feel so good.”

He stretches down, taking her nipple into his mouth and tonguing over the pebbled peak. The sound of his balls thwacking against her ass reverberates, and Y/N’s moans compete for volume as she contracts tighter, and tighter around him. 

“Y’my person, en’t that right?” He circles her clit faster.

Y/N nods, neck stretching as she turns her head about against the sheets. Desperately, she grasps at his back, silently begging for his closeness. Harry drops down, hand trapped between them awkwardly but the weight of him delights her considerably as he hits deeper inside of her.

“Yours,” she exhales. “Please come, Harry.”

His hips stutter, nearly shooting right inside of her. “You first, baby.” Harry speeds up his hand and rolls her other nipple between his teeth. “Soak me.”

Y/N clamps down around him, tightness hurling Harry closer, as she comes for the third time that night. Her mouth opens in a silent cry, so exhausted but so blissful. Her nails dig into his skin and he relishes in the sharp pain, pulling his hand away to coax his wet fingers into her mouth. 

Watching Y/N’s satisfied expression as she cleans his fingers is enough to make Harry come, pulling out of her quickly and fisting his hand over his cock a couple of times before he’s painting her stomach white. He groans, head hanging low with his eyes fighting to stay locked with Y/N’s.

And then he’s flopping down on top of her, uncaring of the come he’s lying on. He’ll get up in a minute, find a washcloth and clean them both up, before gathering her up in his arms and praying to God (if he has to) that this isn’t a dream.

He thinks that after eighty years of killing and feeling like he’d found his purpose, that his life has new meaning now. That this is what he was meant to do. That Y/N is his purpose.

ㅤㅤ

“Harry?” Her soft voice pulls him from his head and he pushes back just enough to look down at her sleepy face. “I’m so happy,” she smiles, “and I’m so glad Imogen is a useless angel.”

He laughs, from deep within his chest, and leans down to smear their lips together—unable to kiss her for long without breaking into a smile—before pulling back and whispering against her forehead.

“Me too, Bambi, me too.”

[luvv4j4ybe11]

With time

✧𝐓𝐰𝐢n 𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐥𝐨’𝐚𝐤

✧Tw!!: mentions of death,sibling loss, lo’ak dies instead of neteyam, lots of crying, first time celebrating birthday without your twin brother, mentions of su!c!de, underaged dr!nking, mentions of alcohol,mostly angst with some fluff towards the end (if you squint),feelings of grief and depression and I think that’s all, enjoy this lil Drabble<33

✧Dividers by @benkeibear

✧ translation(s): Skxawng-moron,idiot , kuru-queue, hammerbrow fish- the goldfish that kiri was playing with in that one scene (idk how else to describe it😭)

(Listen to this to make it extra sad🥰)

You woke up feeling the weight on your chest being even heavier than usual. Your face still wet with tears from last nights realization. That realization being that today was your birthday but not just yours, it was his too. Ever since the night he died, you haven’t left your side of the marui since.

Even though it’s been four months since your twin brother died, that day just keeps replaying in your head, the sound of your mother screaming, the look of absolute devastation on your older brothers face, the blood on your hands, the sound of tsireya crying, lo’aks cold expression, the way your father looked at you with complete disappointment and spat out a cold, “you’ve done enough”

Every time you thought about it you felt sick.

And naturally, being Navi twins you guys were connected more than normal siblings were, you felt each other’s heartbeats, felt when the other was happy or sad, uncomfortable or frustrated. So when you felt cold and utterly alone, you knew he was gone.

But yet there’s still times you hear his heartbeat, you feel how lonely he is and how much sorrow he’s filed with. And it makes you weak with sadness every time.

Being pulled out of your thoughts by a small pair of hands on your bicep shaking you back and forth, you turn around to see your baby sister staring back at you with a smile on her face, her eyes still washed with sadness. Yes, she was young, but she certainly wasn’t stupid. She knew how to read the room better than kids your age did.

“Sis, come on, get up! It’s your birthday!” She says while climbing onto you to give you a hug, which was something she did every year, but this one was more gentle and genuine than the others. You break the hug to place a hand on her head, lightly ruffling her braids,“Maybe later tuktuk, I’m still a little tired.” You say,weakly trying to hide the pain in your features with a fake smile.

She frowns at this, making you let out a soft chuckle as you go to push her off of you. Making her cling onto you more. “That’s what you always say!, please sis, can you get up? For me? For lo’ak?” She says while looking at you with puppy dog eyes. The slight mention of his name brings tears to your eyes, not ready to start this day without him.

“Sister, leave her be, alright? How about you go see what kiri is up to?” Neteyam says as he lifts the curtain to get into your side of the hut, holding it open for tuk to run out eagerly to find her sister.

Closing it, he glances at you before siting on your sleeping mat, “Sister, I’m-” “Teyam don’t. I can’t go through today with this fake sympathetic bullshit!, you guys were constantly on both of our asses for everything! You guys never cared about how we felt! How he felt! You know how many times he came to me telling me how dad made him feel like shit? Or how kiri was pushing him about certain things? Or how he caught dad talking to you about how he’s, “too reckless” and he “wouldn’t be surprised if he got himself killed”?”

His ears pin back to his skull immediately, knowing the exact conversation you were referring to. “Sister, you think that didn’t bother me too? I told him that lo’ak only acted like that because he wanted to be like him. But of course he didn’t listen. And do you think I wasn’t aware of how you guys felt? Why do you think I’d always have both of your guys backs whenever you got into trouble? Why do you think I came up with lies left and right to mom and dad so you two wouldn’t get your asses beat? I wanted to avoid making you guys feel like that, but I only have so much control y/n..” he says as he squeezes his his fists in anger, his feelings from that night bubbling to the surface again.

You move from your comfortable position to sit next to him, bringing him into a much needed hug. “Brother, I know you did. I know you try every single day. And I look up to you because of that. You’re stronger than I am. You keep pushing forward even though there’s so much shit happening to you, I don’t understand how you do it.” You say as you feel tears flowing from your face, the hug reminding you of how lo’ak used to hug you whenever you were in a mood.

“I do it because of you guys. Because of him. You guys are the reason I keep pushing. And especially the both of your skxawng asses” he says with a soft chuckle before breaking the hug, placing his hand on your head softly, something he did with you and lo’ak that became a comfort thing for the both of you. “You can do this today sister, I believe in you, we all do.” His tone making tears automatically spill over your eyes, and causing you to notice his tear filled eyes.

Looking for some sort of grounding you place your hand over his and squeeze, taking multiple deep breaths before speaking. “Teyam.. I can’t, I miss him so much. Everytime I wake up I feel so alone and cold, but I can still hear his breath, and his heartbeat. My pain is not only mine, but his too.” You say in between sobs, watching neteyams breathing get more shallow as he tries to hold in his tears. His features covered in concern.

“Oh baby sis..” bringing you into another much needed hug. He places a light kiss on your forehead before rubbing your back and gently swaying you from side to side,trying to calm down your cries.

Kiri walks in quietly, the feeling of your pain drawing her to your room. Her whole body goes slack and cold when she sees your state, making her glance at Neteyam. That feeling intensifying even more once she saw the pain in his eyes. She takes her place behind you, quickly inserting herself into the hug. Wrapping her right arm around your waist and the other overlapping with neteyams so she can hold him too,her chin resting on your shoulder.

“You feel him don’t you? His heartbeat? His sorrow? His breath? Like he’s just a word about to be spoken?” Without lifting your head you nod quickly, too mentally exhausted speak anymore. “I know how you feel sister. Take that feeling as a way of him telling you to keep going. Keep breathing for him, keep your heart beating for him. That sorrow will be gone once he sees that you’re living for him.”

Her words make you sob even more. Knowing she’s right, he’s always hated seeing you cry, and he did anything to fix it. Purposely making himself look like a dumbass, making you go on an ikran ride with him, asking you to go exploring with him, taking you to you guys secret spot, pinky promises. He did anything for you. And so did you.

A wave of calm suddenly hits you, making your sobs come to a complete stop, and your breathing becomes more level. Feeling the change, your siblings give each other a confused glance before looking down at you. “Sister?..” they both say in sync as you break the hug and get up, your features going completely cold. “I’m going to visit him..if that’s ok with you guys” you say while lifting up a blanket, revealing a stash of alcohol you’ve been keeping ever since his funeral.

Quickly you take a bottle and cover it back up, grabbing your hunting knife and putting on both you and lo’aks matching bracelets you made on your 10th birthday. Walking towards the curtain to leave, you’re pulled back by a gentle pull on your shoulder.

“Y/n..don’t don’t drink today. It’s not gonna stop you from hurting, and you know that.” Kiri says while gliding her hand down to your hand that was holding the alcohol firmly. “Yeah, I know that kiri, but it dulls it somewhat. And it stops me from wanting to throw myself off of a cliff so I think it’s worth it. Plus it’s my birthday! I’m allowed to drink as much as I want today!!” You say in a fake enthusiastic tone, your sarcasm reminding them so much of lo’ak.

“Y/n.” Neteyam says in a soft but stern tone, the one that told you that whatever he was about to say was gonna be serious. “Don’t drink. I know you’ve been hurting more than we have but we need you here. Lo’ak needs you here. You know how much he hates seeing you hurt.” He says as his voice starts to crack slightly, remembering all the things the three of them would come up with whenever you were anything but happy and content.

Feeling the tears well in your eyes again, you squeeze the bottle tighter, fighting the instinct to drown your feelings in the burning liquid.

Glancing over at them, your heart breaks seeing the genuine hurt on their faces because of the realization you’ve been drinking this whole time and they didn’t know. Sighing angrily,you shove the bottle into neteyams chest. “Fine, but when I get back just save me a bottle, because I know it’ll be gone by the time I come back.” You say while turning out of your room swiftly, leaving kiri and neteyam there speechless.

Once you get to the spirt tree, you thank payakan and tell him that you’ll see him soon. Ever since lo’aks passing you’ve only really left your marui to go see payakan, knowing he carries the same weight as you do.

While swimming towards the tree, you mentally prepare yourself for this painful experience. You’ve been avoiding coming to the tree in the first place, because you knew how much it take out of you. And he knew the same.

Connecting your kuru to the tree, you’re brought to you and lo’aks secret spot back at your actual home. The only place that brought you two comfort. Tentatively, you walk through the clearing, lo’ak still not in sight.

“Lo?, where are you?” You call out, the sound of your own voice making you realize you weren’t 15, but you were younger. Walking towards a curtain of flora that led to a small river, you catch a glimpse of your brother, making you walk quicker.

Once you get there you see lo’ak sitting at the edge of river with his feet languidly swaying in the water, just staring into the water. Almost like he was waiting for something, or someone. You don’t say anything at first, just taking in the sight of him after not seeing him for months.

“Brother..” you say softly, not wanting to disturb his peace. His head whips in the direction of your voice, his expression lighting up as he gets up and walks towards you. “Sister!!, I thought you’d never show!” He says as he takes you into a hug, the sound of his voice making you giggle since he was also his younger self.

“Of course I did, it just took me a little time. You know I’d always come to see your skxawng ass” you say as you break the hug to shove his face with your pointer and middle finger. He giggles at that, his smile making the weight on your chest get lighter.

Grabbing your hand, he guides you to where he was sitting. Taking your seat beside him, you gaze out into the water with him.Nervously playing with your extra finger, you take a breath before talking about what you were avoiding for so long.

“Brother I’m-” you exhale slowly before continuing, noticing out of the corner of your eye how all lo’aks attention was turned to you. “I’m so sorry. You shouldn’t be here. It should’ve been me that got shot that night. I was the one that put the idea into your head to go save spider. I should’ve just told you and teyam to go so I could’ve got spider by myself-” “Sister,” he cuts you off, your rambling making the pain in his heart worse. “It’s not your fault. You need to stop hurting yourself like this. It’s not fair to you. You need to focus on now. Not ‘what if’. And plus, It’s not like I would’ve listened to you if you told me to go anyway, there’s no way in hell I’d let that happen.”

Both of you giggle at the last part, knowing that he’s not lying. Once your laughs die down, you look down at your hands, that feeling of guilt still lingering in your chest. Glancing over at you, he notices how you’re playing with your pinkies, a telltale sign that told him something was bothering you.“Sister, what else is it?” He says as he leans back onto his hands, noticing how your shoulders slightly go stiff from his question.

Turning your body to face him, you don’t fail to notice the genuine look of concern in his eyes. “You know what day it is today?” You ask, making his expression completely drop. “Yeah, I know.” The words feeling like a weight on his tongue. “I don’t know how I’m gonna do today without you lo’. I can’t. It hurts too much.” You say as the tears finally spill over your face, the grief crawling back up your throat once again. “No, y/n, you can and you will. For me. Just because I’m here doesn’t mean you can’t live out there. Live for me, y/n. Stop letting yourself be consumed by grief and guilt. I hate seeing you like this and you know that.” He says sternly, making sure you know he’s being serious.

All you do is nod your head, not trusting your voice with the lump in your throat and the never ending tears that keep falling from your eyes. The sight of your hurting form makes lo’aks heart twist in pain. And the fact he couldn’t really do much hurt even more. “Come here, sis,” Placing his hand on your shoulder he pulls you towards him. Giving you a much needed hug, immediately making you sob into the crook of his neck.

“I miss you, twin” he says while resting his chin on your shoulder, letting the tears fall freely from his eyes. You let out a broken, “i miss you more” as the void in your chest grows the longer you two hug.

Once you finally calm down,you break the hug, now seeing each other how you guys remember. “Well shit..” you both say in sync, making you both laugh. “You look so grown. I don’t like it.” Lo’ak says as he admires you a little longer, a feeling of peace swirling in his chest. “Yeah,me neither” you say in a soft tone, once again feeling guilty for moving on without him with you.

Placing left hand on your head, and his right on your shoulder he looks at you with a soft smile on his face, “Y/n,you’ll be ok. I’ll always be watching you, and I’ll always protect you.” The tone of his voice making you inhale sharply so the next wave of tears doesn’t come. He raises his pinky finger towards you, waiting for you to do the same. You let out a soft chuckle at his childish behavior before obliging.

Once both of you pinkies are holding onto one another, he grips your shoulder tighter. “Promise me, that you won’t give up on yourself, that you won’t push everyone away, that you won’t drink your feelings away. Promise me that you can get over this feeling. That you will live through this feeling.”

You squeeze his pinky even tightly as you feel the tears well up in your eyes, realizing that time will make no difference to how much you miss him. But it will for how much you will grow through this feeling.

Tugging his pinky towards yours, you nod your head ‘yes’ before saying, “I promise. I promise I’ll do my best for you. I promise that I’ll try for you.” The words making a smile appear on his face. He brings you into a loving hug, the warmth of comfort washing over both of you guys.

“Happy birthday,twin” you guys say in sync again, a soft giggle coming from both of you. Breaking the hug, he grabs your hands and squeezes them tightly “ow! That hurts!” “I don’t care! I want you to have fun for me today alright? Celebrate us! Spend time with everyone that loves you and gives a shit about you. You deserve it!” he says through his laughs, making you smile softly at his childish demeanor.

“Alright I will!! I’ll come visit you again tonight and I’ll tell you all about today!” You say in a giddy tone, noticing that this has been the first time you’ve been somewhat happy since these last 4 months.

“You better” he says while rolling his eyes dramatically, knowing he did it to make you laugh. Once your laughter dies down, you both look back at the water. Not wanting this moment to end already. “I love you,bro” you say while bumping your shoulder against his, making him laugh and do the same to you. “I love you more,sis” he says with a soft smile on his face, one that replaced the one on yours.

You two stay like this for a while, just basking in each others presence and invading each others space. Thoughts of leaving suddenly crowd your head and the second those thoughts occur, your brother says something about it.“Y/n go spend the day with them. You know how they get on our birthday, plus they’ll make you feel better.” He says in a delicate tone, a soft smile on his face from remembering how much they loved celebrating your birthdays. You sigh softly, before reluctantly standing up.

He gets up with you, bringing you into an affectionate hug. Without breaking it, he whispers “I’ll miss you,sister.” With complete sadness laced in his tone. A tear falls from your face from the sound of his voice,“I’ll miss you more than you’ll ever know, brother.” You two stay like this for a while, until it starts getting harder to breathe, a harsh reminder of the truth.

Breaking the hug, you give him a look that lets him know that, making him hesitantly let go of you. “I’ll see you later tonight brother, I promise. I love you!” You say while turning around to leave, hearing him let out a little ‘I love you, too’ before you leave.

Once you reach the surface you catch your breath, calling out to your ilu and mentally going over your interaction with your brother to avoid acknowledging that void in your chest.

It’s a peaceful ride back home, until you start getting in your head about ‘having fun’ today without lo’ak. Because it wasn’t just your birthday, but his too. And celebrating without him just doesn’t feel right, even tuk knows that.

But right when you start having those doubts, a group of hammerbrow fish swarm around you and your ilu, stopping you in your tracks. One of them swims up to your face and flicks your forehead, making you furrow your brows and shove it away. They swim around you and you ilu for awhile longer before leaving, one of them staying back a little longer to look at you.

The whole interaction left you with a smile on your face, knowing that it was definitely lo’ak telling you to calm down, and to stop worrying about unnecessary things. Making hope swirl in your chest.

With time, you know you’ll be okay.

A/N~ this took SO LONG to write oh my fucking god. But we made it!! And I hope you guys enjoyed this (and this is my first angst fic so pls cut me some slack if some phrasing gets repetitive😔) because I did, didn’t enjoy the tears I cried while writing this but it was worth it🩷 if you made it to the end and you’re reading this I wanna thank you so much for reading this whole long ass fic, must really love me huh😏?? LMFAOO but anyway! Otw to write for kinkmas now🏃🏽‍♀️💨

Duces🫶🏽,

Luvv4j4ybe11

[thewritingmagician2022]

Hello after seeing your post about breaking up with the bros I was wondering if you could please do a hc for the boys finding out that mc fell in love with someone else in the human realm and mc is really happy with their new s/o?

Thank you and have a great day ,and please take your time on writing this💞

This is one of my favorite kinds of prompts - I absolutely live for angst or bittersweet writing. What that says about me, I’m not willing to discuss. I know this is insanely late (got chronically ill) but I hope you see this and that it does your request justice. 

Lucifer: It’s going to be hard for Lucifer to see initially; his ego is as hurt as his heart is. It’s very easy for him to fall into the role of bitter ex-boyfriend who talks about how you’ve absolutely downgraded. You’ve settled for a human partner and one that is not nearly as attractive, smart, charming, talented, etc. He disparages this new partner relentlessly to the point where Diavolo and his brothers know his rant by heart. He would definitely think about trying to win you back, to show you how much happier you would be if you came back to him, but…Lucifer knows that smile on your face. You’ve always seen the best in people and there’s nothing he could ever say that would convince you to leave your new partner so he saves himself the embarrassment of trying to win you back and decides to watch from the background, willing to bide his time until your new partner makes a mistake and he can come sweeping in. 

Mammon: Mammon is heartbroken, there’s no way around it. You’re his and he’s yours, that’s how it has been since the beginning and that’s the way it’s always supposed to be. He has been so good for you, tried so hard, and he knows that you love him. Loved him? Mammon has been pining for you and waiting for you to one day return to the Devildom like he knew that you would and here you are, already moved on and in love with someone new. It makes him feel like he never really knew you at all because if you loved him even half as much as he loved you, you wouldn’t be with someone else. He tries to play off his feelings but everyone around him is aware of his devastation and they’re all doing their best to cheer him but no matter what they buy him or how much Lucifer raises his credit limit, he can’t stop thinking about how he lost the only thing he ever really cared about and feels like the absolute fuck up that everyone’s always told him he was. 

Levi: Levi can’t stand to see it and he’s going to absolutely pull away from your friendship the moment he knows there’s someone else in the picture. He’ll play at normal for as long as he can but he’ll talk to you less and less as he drowns in his self-doubt and fears that you’re only talking to him out of pity while you secretly laugh about the stupid demon who is still hopelessly in love with you when you’re clearly not even interested. Hell, you were probably never interested in the first. You probably couldn’t wait to leave Levi and the Devildom behind and find some super cool, charming normal human who didn’t stutter or spend hours gaming or act like an idiot around you. There’s no way you ever loved him and Levi isn’t going to stick around where he’s not wanted. He goes back to hiding away in his room, swearing off love forever since it’s a stupid normie illusion, and there’s nothing anyone can do. 

Satan: Wrath. It takes Satan several days to get out all of the fury he’s feeling and, honestly, everyone is afraid to be around him until he’s finally settled down. Satan can’t believe that you’ve been able to find someone new, especially someone like that. Satan, like Lucifer, knows he’s the better choice and he doesn’t understand how you’ve not only apparently gotten over him just like that but also chose a partner that was so utterly beneath you. Satan, despite his sin, is rational though and he actively avoids his urge to maimkilldestroy your new partner out of respect and love for you. However, he is keeping an eye on you two and he will make that partner of yours disappear if he gets even a hint of you being mistreated. 

Asmo: Asmo thinks it’s a little cute honestly. You chose a cute new partner and Asmo can understand why you would be attracted to them. Of all people, he understands how attraction and affection aren’t limited or controllable. You’ve been home for a long time with no guarantee you’d come back to the Devildom, he can’t blame you at all for being with someone new. You seem so happy you’re practically glowing with it and Asmo thinks you look as beautiful as ever. However, that doesn’t mean Asmo is going to leave you alone. There’s always room for him, right? You and your partner could potentially even share, depending on how much he ends up liking them. It’s only if you reject Asmo for this new partner that he becomes both outraged and hurt. He can’t fathom you choosing anyone else over him and he’s going to stay your friend if only to wheedle at you constantly and try to temp you back to him. 

Beel: Beel is really just happy that you’re happy. There’s this twinge in his chest when he sees you with someone else and the everpresent hunger in his stomach grows to an almost unbearable sensation as he starts to realize that you will never be his again. You’re gone and you have a new partner that you seem to love. That’s great, it really is. All Beel wants is for you to be happy and well taken care and safe; it seems like you’ve found someone who can give you that. He loves you enough to want you to be happy, wherever and however you find that happiness. As much as he truly believes that, he still can’t stop the pit in his stomach from growing whenever he thinks about you. He eats and eats, more than he has since he first came to the Devildom, but nothing is filling the emptiness inside him and he lives with the scary idea that nothing will ever be able to fill the space that you’ve left behind. 

Belphie: Belphie doesn’t care. You’re just a stupid human. You hung out with his family for a while and you were great to have around for a while, it was…fun. That’s it. They all knew you wouldn’t be around forever and that you’d eventually go home. Belphie, of all the brothers, is the most aware of your humanity; you’re mortal and vulnerable and your time is so limited. Belphie knew to never put much stock in the idea of a future together; he expected this to happen one day and so he’s prepared for it well enough to not react when he sees you with your new partner. But, despite all of his internal preparation, deep down, Belphie feels the loss acutely. He’s reminded of Lilith and the loss of the one of the best people he’s ever known and he feels his walls against humans building back up; he always ends up hurt by them in one way or another. 

If you decide you want the dateables as well (or if anyone does), just let me know! 

[the-darklings]

headcannon/drabble about how wanderer met destruction and how they became friends?

wc: 1.3k+

notes: should preface this by saying I have not gotten to Destruction in comics yet, so any feedback from comic readers on his characterisation would be greatly appreciated because, at this point, I'm glueing the man together by sheer will alone. also suffering from a small post-travelling cold, so if this is a lil clunky, it be like that. expect a new part of tibyim on Saturday because your gal is recuperating.

part one | series masterlist | ao3 |

The man bending over you is broad and red-haired. A quick grin stretches across his face when he spots you’re awake, nearly lost in his thick beard. 

“There you are,” he calls out. “I was wondering when I’ll get to meet ya.”

You blink. Then again. “Who are you?”

The large man chuckles—a deep, soothing sound that washes over you like a warm bath. He stretches his hand your way, large, and if you squint, you can just make out tiny, faded scars marring his skin.

“Destruction of the Endless at your service.” He grasps your hand in his, tugging you upwards effortlessly. He squeezes your hand once, letting it go, but the grin remains. Friendly and warm, utterly at odds with his robust build, armour, and fire-kissed appearance. Rugged and handsome in a surprisingly earthy way. “You must be the Wanderer.”

This is all incredibly weird. “Uh, you know me?”

“My siblings have told me about you,” he confirms with a nod. “It is not every day that a mortal can trespass other realms. Or survive the journey.”

“Barely.”

You suck in a subdued breath at your subconscious sarcasm—that you’ve long since learned doesn't get one very far when traversing the universe. Usually, it gets some limbs removed or several. One must respect other magical realms and their sovereigns properly or suffer for it.  

Destruction of the Endless doesn't appear wrathful despite what his disposition may imply. He seems all too pleased by your retort. 

“Yes, I think I understand now.”

You blink. “What?”

The Endless only grins brighter. 

.

Destruction lives on an island inside a supernova. 

It took several visits to stop flinching from every brighter flare of self-contained destruction and creation around you. You’re not sure what power swirls through this place, but Destruction’s realm is a swirl of unending creation and destruction wherever you look. Apt, and horrifying. Some invisible walls hold back the devastation from touching you, but it does little to ease your apprehension. A landscape of red, orange, gold and white is a painting smearing in and out around you. But after glimpsing Delirium’s realm, you take Destruction’s bright, explosive home like a comfort blanket. It’s cold and hot simultaneously, but at least things make sense here. Somewhat.  

Destruction finds your constant wary glances at the splitting galaxies around you an absolute riot. 

“Dear Wanderer, fear not. Everything in my realm is caught in a perpetual state of undoing and becoming. It is the nature of all things.”

“You do realise that’s not reassuring at all, right?” you grumble. 

Destruction wipes the sweat from his brow using the back of his hand. His heavy arm drops around your shoulders, squeezing you close. There's comfort wrapped in the gesture. He’s so warmhearted, so unlike what you envision one wearing Destruction’s moniker to be, that you can’t help but lean into him. 

“Indeed not. But it is the way of things.”

“Well, the way of things is horrible.”

He’s quiet for a long, heavy moment. “Yes,” he whispers, none of his usual liveliness present. “It is.”

.

“You’ll see.”

Destruction considers you. “You have great faith in them.”

“Well, I’m human, mortal, whichever you prefer,” you argue quietly, so nothing is disturbed. “I have to believe in my own.”

You tread through a battlefield together. Nothing stirs—nothing breaths. It’s too quiet. Death has passed by here already. You are here together only to oversee the aftermath of destruction. 

The man beside you gazes upon the dead warriors with great sorrow, his expression betraying the same weariness you’ve caught glimpses of on Dream’s face, on Death’s face, even Despair’s and Destiny’s. Though the latter you’ve never cared much to comprehend or relate to. 

“I admire your faith, Wanderer. I hope eternity does not strip it from you.”

You pause, your features softening. Reaching for Destruction, you wrap your smaller hand around his. He swallows, giving it a slight squeeze in return. 

“No one is just one thing,” you say patiently. 

Destruction absorbs those words silently, his hulking form leading you towards the nearby village. Atrocities await you there. Ransacked, pillaged, bodies everywhere. Some huts still smoulder. No happy laughter or mothers chiding their squealing children, unlike this morning when you first spotted Destruction's solitary figure on a nearby hill; a sure sign of impending doom. Your heart curls torturously at the lives lost. 

“Do you truly believe so, Wanderer?” he questions with quiet desperation. “Even after all the horrors you have witnessed? How many times have we met on the eve of battle? Do you truly believe in mortals, my friend, or is destruction in your blood also?”

Your thumb brushes gently over his hand. “I don’t know,” you say honestly, pausing by a small hut. “But I do know that I don’t believe in destiny. I believe there’s a choice. Always.”

Your foot sweeps over dirt and soot behind the hut, over and over, revealing a hidden hatch. You release his hand, leaning over to pry open the hatch door. Terrified murmurs and cries reach you. 

“It’s me,” you call down gently into the darkness. “You’re safe now. Come on out.”

A handful of young, dirt-covered faces stare back at you, tear streaks still visible on their ruddy cheeks. One child holds a newborn baby in his arms, born just as the battle began last night when you rushed them here and hid them. 

New life, for the old taken. 

“My destiny is to wander. To be cursed and suffer for it. It’s not to save everyone. If I try, worse things occur. I know that now. But it’s not about saving everyone, my friend. It’s about saving someone. That’s enough.” You look over at the Endless situated behind you. You cannot describe the sheer, overwhelming emotions painting Destruction’s being until his giant fists tremble at his sides. “Destruction, yes, but also creation.”

Destruction laughs, and laughs, and laughs until you hear tears in his thick voice. 

.

“I am sorry, dear Wanderer.”

“I get it. You can’t help me. Don’t worry.”

You suppose discovering your unconscious body, waiting until it pieces itself together from the cruelties inflicted upon it, would shake anyone’s empathy. The Endless get but glimpses into what is everyday living for you. For them, with such demanding responsibilities, it’s all too simple to forget you’re cursed. Not another demigod creature prowling realms and dimensions as you please.  

On Destruction’s haggard face, you read the quiet despair, the shame about the severity of the ruin inflicted upon you. 

“It’s not your fault,” you reassure, forming each word carefully. “It’s the curse.”

“Is your curse not a force of destruction, Wanderer?” 

It is. That much is clear. Your curse…   

“Don’t,” you whisper, pressing closer to him, your palm covering his beard-covered cheek. “Don’t look sad on my behalf. You didn’t do this to me.”

“You’re the loneliest mortal I’ve ever met. How can I not?”

Your hand slips from his face like a deadweight, dropping in your lap. Your stare falls to your bloodied palms, all of it yours. You’re not sure what you can say to that declaration. 

“What a pair we make,” you joke tiredly. 

A slight smile rests across his mouth when you glance up. It melts slowly, concern simmering in the heedful way he observes you. “Can I take you to my brother? Dream would want—”

“Better not,” you cut him off, swallowing. You don't want Dream to see you like this. “Curse doesn’t like it. Death took me once. Then I got torn out by force for two years. It wasn’t nice. It all happens for a reason.”

Reading the seething resentment in your words, Destruction lowers himself to the blood-covered grass beside you. He’s sporting ordinary bright clothing, you note, surprised. None of the old warrior armours you’ve grown to associate with him in sight. 

“Then I shall stay here,” he declares. “It is impolite to leave a friend alone.”

Your head lowers, and you pretend you don’t taste tears pooling in the cracks on your lips. 

an:

so Destruction's realm is not shown or mentioned in the series at all, so I had to Katify it. Mr Neil Gaiman, hope you don't mind, king. Destruction now lives in a supernova because I think that's neat. I love these two together. Nice and quick, but was really written to check where I am at inspo-wise. New chapter Saturday.

[idealisticrealism]

TCL 3x07 thoughts (and even more feelings)

Now that’s how you do a tribute. Wow. Even though I was well and truly crying by two minutes in (and probably cried through about half of the episode in total), I actually feel kind of honoured to have gotten to watch that, to feel not only the love that the other characters had for Arman, but also the love that the entire cast and crew had for Adan. And while I truly wish we’d never had to lose either of them, I’ll always be grateful to have gotten such a beautiful goodbye.

Sorry if parts of this come off a little confusing… I had so many thoughts about everything and couldn’t decide how to organise them... in hindsight, probably should have just gone chronologically haha, but oh well. Here goes. 

Thony /Armony.

Honestly I’m impressed I managed to get a whole 90 or so seconds into the ep before the tears started, especially when it opened with Thony looking absolutely wrecked, sitting at a table with a bottle of alcohol, her buddha, some used tissues, and every piece of evidence she has about who was responsible for Arman’s kidnapping… and then for her to just shove it all to the floor and put her face in her hands?? Ugh, my baby. Her conversation with Fi was so devastating from both sides; on Thony’s part because losing Arman has broken something vital in her, and on Fi’s part because she can see the true extent of Thony’s pain as well as the dangerous path that Thony’s heading down (fixating on getting justice/vengeance for Arman rather than just letting herself grieve), and she knows she can’t stop either of them. And ugh then immediately after, when Luca has lost his beloved toy and the writers hit us (and Thony!) with: “That’s okay, my love. Sometimes we lose things and it’s… it’s fine to be sad about it.” Her face as her brain registers the truth of the words coming out of her mouth, even as she knows she can’t follow her own advice… ouch. And speaking of painful, the choice of Thony’s outfit for the wake haunts me; she’s covered head to toe in white (the traditional Cambodian mourning colour), and she’s also wearing the buddha necklace that we’ve previously seen her touch for comfort in stressful moments… I’m certain no one but us and Fi would be able to read the subtle lament of grief and pain that those choices represent. (And yet despite that, Fi still somehow thinks she can convince Thony not to go to the wake of the man she loves?? C’mon now Fi be real here lol) 

But ugh, that big breath Thony takes before getting out of the elevator at La Habana, her eyes closed and hands clutching tight at her jacket? Having to prepare herself to step into this space, his space, and be faced with the reality of his absence? And then even when Jorge tries to intercept her and turn her away for her own safety, she brushes him off and goes straight for Arman’s altar, because lbr, nothing’s keeping her away from this, from him. Her openly saying “We both lost him” to Nadia was honestly a surprise because of how clearly it indicated she was putting them both in the same category– aka both women who truly loved him, both of them made ‘widows’ by his loss??? Damn, that was more direct than I expected her to be. And ugh when she says to Ramona: “All I ever wanted was to bring Arman home” (...) “I need answers too. I don’t know how to move on from here.” I think that statement really captures one of the major aspects of both the episode and of Thony’s character: how utterly lost she is now. When Arman was missing, Thony had a goal to focus on. Even from S1, it was pretty clear that with any difficulty that was happening in her life, Thony could get through it as long as she had something to strive for, some way to keep moving forward. Like fighting to get treatments for Luca (and more recently, preventing CPS from taking him away). Outwitting Garrett and the FBI. Getting Arman free of Kamdar’s debt. Getting Fi home after her deportation. And of course, finding Arman and bringing him home. But now that he’s dead, the ‘difficulty’ that she’s facing has no solution. He’s just gone, and there’s nothing she can do to change it, no way to solve or fix it. No matter what she does, she will never be able to achieve the goal of getting him back. (Yes, I cried writing that). And so that is exactly why, instead of just accepting his loss and letting herself grieve like Fi says, she fixates on the only thing she can do: confirm that Dante was responsible, and then make sure he doesn’t get away with it, even if it means walking straight into the lion’s den and accusing one of their own.

The scene when she stands by Arman’s altar and remembers the first time she came to La Habana was so painful to watch; back then, she came to him to save a dying Luca, and yet only like 4 months later, Arman is the one whose life has been cut short. Thanks to him, though, Luca is safe and healthy, and will likely lead a full and happy life. There’s something so poignant about Jorge bringing the drawing to her right at that moment, almost like it’s a sign from Arman that it’s okay, that Luca’s life was always more important than his own. And honestly I can’t believe that Thony admits what she does to Jorge– that she thought she and Arman would have more time, and that there was so much that she’d never gotten to say to him. Like wow, talk about a love confession?? She knew how she felt about Arman, but had kept pushing it aside, thinking that there would be time for it later; that eventually everything with the FBI and Kamdar and Luca and Fi would settle down and they would have the chance to really acknowledge what was between them. But now that chance is gone, along with everything they could have been, and she's grieving that as well as him. And while it’s a truth that she had a hard time even admitting to Fi, she knows that Jorge will get it, both as someone who loved Arman (and who missed out on a lot of time with him, and had a lot of things that went unsaid) and also as a man who has been through the loss of the love of his life. Honestly, Jorge could save Thony’s life a dozen times over and I’ll still never be as grateful to him as I was for the simple fact that he told her he thinks Arman knew all the things she never got to tell him. (And really, from everything we’ve seen… I think he’s right. Arman knew.). 

That moment was one of many punches to the heart from this ep, and honestly one of the most painful was when Thony is left to clean up Dante’s murder (and in that all-white outfit! Oh no), and she’s frantically trying to get Fi to leave, not only because she doesn’t want Fi involved in this dangerous world, but also because I think she knew she was seconds from completely falling apart and she didn’t want Fi to see it. The wobble in her voice as she says “Everything is fine now. Everything is over… it’s over” and then just immediately breaks down sobbing?? Devastating. Because like I said, the need to make Dante pay for what he did to Arman was the only thing keeping her together and functioning– and with one bullet, it was suddenly done, and what does she have left now?? Just inescapable grief and emptiness in the space that Arman used to occupy in her life. It’s all over now, and that's really highlighted by the fact that the first thing she does after finishing cleaning up the murder is to tell Fi that she’s walking away from the criminal world (mirroring 1x01 when she was dragged into it by cleaning a murder), and then goes straight to Arman’s altar to tell him goodbye. She doesn’t tell him how grateful she is– she’s already told him that, many times over the course of their relationship– but instead, she needs him to know she’s sorry, for everything that had led them here, and for the fact she couldn’t save him. And then ugh, her “I just hope you knew…” and the way her eyes close as a more mournful version of their theme/leitmotif starts to play, and we see all the flashes of her memories of him?? We may not have heard her say the word ‘love’ out loud but we didn’t need to. This entire episode was a love letter from Thony to Arman, her own personal velorio within a velorio. (Not to mention, in this article sent to me by @crwdgoinapeshit, Elodie specifically describes Arman as someone Thony 'loved a lot, if not the love of her life' ugh). And lbr if his parents hadn’t appeared at that moment and interrupted things, she probably would  have finished that sentence, and would have said aloud how much she loved him. But like Jorge said– he knew. He died knowing she loved him, and that she would carry a piece of him with her always. 

Ok I love that despite her having told Fi that she’d be right out in a minute, and having the opportunity to just easily walk away when the drama starts unfolding with Arman's parents, she simply looks at his picture again, and then walks over to join Nadia, like she’s telling him,  “Don’t worry. I’ll have Nadia’s back, and if needed I’ll do my best to keep your family from bringing the place down on all our heads.” And that choice turns out to be a significant one, because she overhears that Ramona’s middle name is Marina, just like the word Arman wrote in the dust– and just like that, it’s not over. She has a purpose again, and she’s not going to stop until she’s achieved it. The leader of one of the most dangerous cartels in the country took the man Thony loved, a man that was supposed to be family to Ramona, and now Thony is coming for her. And if that’s not fucking badass, I don’t know what is.

Ngl, I do feel a little bit like I need to write a scene-insert fic for the gap between when when Arman’s parents leave, and when Thony gets into the car with Fi, because I think there’s a rather important conversation that needs to happen there between Thony and Nadia– both a ‘we need to talk, later’ (regarding Ramona and Arman) and a ‘can I have this’ (regarding the mini caddy), because I would feel bad if Thony just took it without asking, especially given that Nadia herself felt so bad about accepting it from Isabel. But oh my heart, when she sat down with Luca and reminded him about Arman, and pulled out the mini caddy… and then the “I’m sure he would want you to have it” (he really would) and “But no matter what it went though, my friend only loved it more. Do you think you can keep it safe for him?” (Help, there’s a waterfall coming out of my eyeballs.) To watch the ep end with Arman and Thony driving off into the sunset together in the caddy was all kinds of rough… I know a lot of fans kind of wish that that was the ending we had for them, that we’d never gotten a S3 renewal and could instead all just live in a shared fantasy where Arman and Thony got to go on to lead full lives together. And honestly sometimes I feel that way too. But I have also loved and appreciated season 3, and I’m grateful to have had more time with this incredible cast, and also to say goodbye to Arman and Armony in such a beautiful way.

Fiona.

Once again, Fi is very much proving herself to be the Samwise Gamgee to Thony’s Frodo Baggins, from trying to convince her to stop and let herself grieve (like Thony tried to do for her after Marco’s death), to trying to protect her by keeping her from going to the wake, to realising that even if Thony is doing things she doesn’t agree with, she’s going to stand by her. Ngl I did feel for her with Thony’s very blithe “Don’t worry! If anyone’s gonna kill me, it’s not gonna happen at a wake!” because that’s hardly reassuring, Thony! And seriously can you imagine S1 Thony ever saying something like that??? I think our girl has spent a little too much time in the criminal underworld, and she’s starting to get desensitised– and Fi can see it, can see how both that desensitisation and Thony’s need for justice for Arman is leading Thony to go deeper and take risks that could easily backfire on her or their family. Ugh but that moment in the laundry when she really thinks about the lengths that she and Thony would go to for each other, and realises that while Thony is making some unfair decisions in the grip of her grief, Thony would also run straight into any danger for her without a second thought– and so she decides to do the same, because that's who they are to each other.

Honestly I’m proud of the guts it must have taken Fi to go to the wake despite the presence of the cartel and their possible anger about Arman’s death, all so she can be with Thony to support her through this loss. But she does it, because she knows the loss is that immense for Thony. I’ll admit I’m a little confused why Fi would have gone to the loading dock rather than through the main entrance, and while it’s likely literally just for plot reasons, I’m going to explain it as bc she used to go to the loading dock to drop Thony off/pick her up when Thony worked at La Habana. I’m sure Thony probably even took her up in the service elevator one time and gave her a sneaky after-hours tour haha. But ugh of course her taking the service elevator now means that she’s right there as Dante leads Thony out, and in true Samwise fashion, she doesn’t go running for help– she goes to rescue her Mr Frodo herself! Seeing her creeping along armed only with a hammer, ready to take on all 6 foot 3 inches of Dante in order to save her beshie?? What a brave, foolish, wonderful woman. But then Jorge and Ramona appear and she’s too outnumbered to do anything, and all she can do is hide there and listen– and dude, for at least a solid minute or so she legitimately thinks that she just listened to one of her family getting murdered. Like holy shit that’s gotta add a whole new fresh level of PTSD on top of what she already had from her border crossing ordeal. And then for her to stay and help Thony clean the blood, despite Thony desperately trying to make her leave? It makes me think of Thony’s introduction to the underworld in 1x01, witnessing a murder and having to clean it up– Thony had no choice but to be pulled into that world, but Fi does. She can see that Thony is walking straight down the path into Mordor (sorry for the continued LOTR references, but they’re the best I got atm lol) and she chooses to go with her.

And I am so glad of that, not only because Thony is so clearly spiralling without Arman and needs Fi’s support, but also because we all know that now that I can’t have Armony, there’s literally nothing I want to see more out of this show than my dream of the three Mob Queens (Thony, Fi, Nadia) running Vegas lol. Plus, Fi has spent the last 2 seasons being a counterweight of sorts to Arman in the tug-of-war for Thony’s life-path; Thony’s relationship with Arman drew her deeper into the criminal world, while Fi has been trying to drag her away from it. But now Arman is gone, Thony is the one choosing to continue deeper in the underworld, and I think it would be really interesting to see Fi realise that her efforts to pull her away are never going to work, and instead kind of go ‘alright, if you can’t beat them, join them’ and follow her. (And I mean, the thing about Sin Cara being faceless means anyone could take over as the new Sin Cara, and no one need ever know…......)

Nadia.

Ugh, my baby Nadia. She seems so broken, so young and alone. And even with Ramona saying supportive things and calling her ‘my daughter’, her being in the office with Ramona and Jorge does have less the feeling of family support and more like sharks circling, especially when they start questioning her about the FBI. No wonder she seems to panic a little (justifiably, considering that she had Russo in this room only like a week ago!) and so tells them about Thony knowing the meet location– but unlike other times she’s deliberately directed blame at Thony to get it off herself, this time she actually immediately stops and backtracks, trying to defend her. I love that deep down she knows that Thony would never betray Arman like that, because Thony loved him too. And even when Thony shows up to the wake uninvited, Nadia’s immediate response isn’t to get angry or kick her out; it’s ~almost~ even like relief, because here is someone she can actually talk to about what’s going on. When she asks her about the Feds, it’s not because she thinks Thony called them; it's because Thony’s the only one she can trust to help in figuring out how they knew. But then Thony gets frustrated about Nadia telling Ramona and throwing suspicion on her, and Nadia gets frustrated about how trusting Thony about Dante potentially cost them Arman, and honestly I love this conversation so much?? They’re in conflict over Arman, just like they always have been, but now that he’s gone they’re also oddly united, and only have each other to turn to. Thony’s apologies to her are heartfelt, and there’s no force in it when Nadia suggests she leave. Tbh I don’t think she actually knows if she wants Thony to leave or stay, because while on one level she is angry with her, having her there to direct her anger towards is a much-needed outlet; and plus when it comes down to it I think she needs the familiarity and support that comes with having Thony present, especially with the Sanchez sharks around. It’s funny, but Nadia and Thony’s relationship is starting to feel just as sibling-like as the Sanchezs’ to me; that complicated mix of comfort and antagonism that any of us with siblings know so well. (Also ugh Nadia’s “Do whatever you want, you always do anyway” is practically an exact echo of what Arman said to her in 1x03, and I’m not fine at all). 

But regarding Nadia and Thony’s relationship, I think it’s clear that they’re only going to get closer as the season progresses, and one hint towards that is the complete change in the way Nadia interacts with Isabel in this ep. In the earlier seasons you could tell she didn’t like Isabel at all, and hated it when she came to La Habana/around Arman. She was absolutely jealous, because of the exact thing Isabel admits to her now: that she never stopped loving him. Before his loss, that was a threat, just like Thony was. Now, it’s a comfort, a connection that only three people can understand: Isabel, Nadia, and Thony. Aside from maybe his mother, the three loves that Arman had over the course of his life are the only ones who will truly carry his memory with them, the ones that will keep a part of him alive- and at least in some way, they’ll be forever bonded by that. But god, Isabel’s line about not being able to believe he’s gone, about walking into La Habana and feeling like he could suddenly appear from around a corner– that one was absolutely in there for the cast and crew, who have said practically the exact same thing about Adan in interviews. Having lost both the character and the actor makes this episode even more poignant and tragic, and you can feel the love in every aspect of it. 

But sigh my poor increasingly-inebriated Nadia is not making the best calls at the moment, such as running straight to the office to get Russo’s business card (out of its very secure location amongst a bunch of papers in the safe) to burn it right then and there. Not suspicious at all haha.  And of course Jorge catches her doing it, which would have probably been a nail in her own coffin if not for Jorge spotting the picture Luca drew (which Arman kept in the safe, ughhh), and that leading to her admitting the truth of Arman’s love for Thony and the regrets she had about their marriage, and Jorge seeming to realise that she did sincerely love Arman and wouldn’t have betrayed him. And man, does she demonstrate that beautifully when Arman’s parents arrive and the Morales siblings all start fighting, and she’s the one that calls them all out on it and reminds them that they’re here for Arman, and that he deserves respect, not their pettiness. Absolute queen behaviour from both Nadia and Eva, who completely knocked it out of the park this episode. Based on cast interviews, she seems to have been the cast member most affected by Adan’s death, so filming this episode must have been so incredibly difficult for her, but she was beyond amazing. And for Nadia’s sake, as unexpected as her last scene with Jorge was, I was so glad that someone finally thought to give her a goddamn hug!!!

Jorge.

Ugh, hearing Jorge using that soft voice with Thony, and him immediately apologising for not checking in on her, then trying to warn her of the danger from Ramona… like damn, kudos to the writers for managing to take a character I was so prepared to hate and making me like him. Jorge really did love Arman, and has begun to genuinely care about Thony, and I’m sure that it would mean a lot to Arman that his brother-uncle is doing what he can to protect the woman he loved now that he can’t do it himself. But ugh, Jorge’s wonder at seeing the mini caddy again and realising that Arman had saved it from the fire, and then him admitting how much he’d wanted to get Arman back after Eduardo had separated them? That was so bittersweet to watch. Tbh I think he spent years deliberately not thinking about his love for Arman, but then everything surrounding Arman’s abduction and death has brought it all to the surface, and I’m looking forward to how that will affect his choices from here.

For now, his next step is to interrogate Nadia a little to be sure that she didn’t betray Arman (and maybe also because he’s hoping to find Ramona a scapegoat that isn’t Thony??). The initial part of their conversation was actually super sweet though, and omg, learning that Arman wanted to go legit partly so he could help his dad open a distillery? One they’d call Heart of Heaven?? (Or maybe Heavenly Heart? I’m not sure exactly how the Spanish would translate). God, despite his badass exterior, my boy Arman really was just too soft and good for this world. And ngl, Jorge seems to have a bit of that in him too. His next conversation with Nadia– about his own (seemingly rocky) marriage and his regrets about it, and about losing his wife Vanessa– definitely seemed to create a genuine understanding between them for the first time, and I liked that he apologised to her for accusing her. So looks like Jorge now has two women to protect on behalf of Arman. 

Him bringing the drawing to Thony was so kind and thoughtful– partly for just even recognising what it would mean to her, but also for telling her that Arman had always wanted kids and basically implying that Arman would have viewed Luca as his own. In that simple act of taking the drawing, he spared Nadia from the pain of having to deal with it, and he ensured Thony got to have this reminder of Arman’s love, and I’m so grateful for it. Losing Arman– and him learning just how truly she had loved and had been loved by his brother-nephew– has definitely changed and solidified their bond, which is why she trusts him with the arrest report about Dante, and why she dares to even voice the possibility that Ramona could be involved. And though he immediately shuts her down about that, he still takes the report straight to Ramona and challenges her about what they’re going to do about it, showing that he is worthy of that trust from Thony.

But hooo boy, after everything that happens with Dante, and then the showdown with Eduardo, we definitely get to see a new side of Jorge, the frustrated agitation of a man who is starting to question everything he thought he knew. Arman’s death is going to have a ripple effect, that’s for sure, and though Jorge is still being the obedient brother for now and cleaning up the mess with Dante (interesting how Ramona was the one to pull the trigger, but it was Jorge and Thony that were the ones dealing with the consequences and making it disappear) I think he’s going to be doing some pushing back against her as the season goes on, and as he tries to figure out the truth. I couldn’t quite make out what he said to Dante’s body as he was kneeling beside it; couldn’t tell if he was apologising for his fate or telling him it was what he deserved lol!  @prhiswife do you mind translating? Also if you can be bothered translating any more of the Spanish in this ep I would be very interested to hear any or all of it lol. But honestly it surprised me to see him go back to La Habana there at the end, to stop before Arman’s photo and then to seek connection with Nadia about their mutual loss… and tbh, it looked like almost too much connection for a second there???? For a very fleeting moment I honestly thought they were actually heading for a kiss (the crying and the face touching felt oddly reminiscent of Armony in 1x06) and I was like ???? what the fuckkk??? Lol. But I think it was more just him genuinely trying to comfort her, and I'm happy to see the foundations for Thony's team of criminal badasses (Fi, Nadia, and Jorge) developing....

(I mean, it would be objectively hilarious if the show decided to make another Morales man fall in love with both Thony and Nadia, but I don’t think that’s what’s happening here lol) 

Ramona.

Loved seeing the sibling tension building over Jorge’s support of Thony, and loved seeing how immediately he defended Thony/how genuinely she wanted Arman back. Like Nadia, he really does believe she wouldn’t betray Arman. At this point of the ep it’s almost a bit of a Ramona and Nadia vs Jorge and Thony scenario, even if poor Nadia and Thony actually want no part in this sibling debate lol, and are in many ways united on their own team. The odd moment Ramona has when she stands from the chair definitely seems to indicate some kind of pain or medical symptom (like dizziness or something) and was very deliberately included by the writers… more clues that she is secretly dying??? But anyway later when Ramona says that with Arman’s death, there’s no reason to keep his ‘accessories’ (aka Thony, and maybe Nadia too?) around, I appreciate that Jorge again immediately defends Thony. He’s starting to see Thony (and soon, Nadia too) as a member of their extended family and I love that.

Okay yasss to this showdown of these two strong, intelligent, determined women, facing off against one another in a kitchen of all places (a setting that has associations with the disempowerment and minimisation of women)…  not to mention that with one all in black and the other all in white, they’re forming the perfect contrast of good and bad, light and dark… the writers made so many deliberate choices here and I love it. These two started out on such uneven ground, with Thony shrinking before the might of Sin Cara, and now here they stand perfectly eye to eye, with Thony daring to call out Ramona’s right hand man as their potential traitor. Daaamn. Seeing Thony witness Ramona’s shaky hand was also interesting– if not for that little ‘moment’ Ramona had earlier in the office, the shakiness could easily have been read as a sign of emotional stress in response to Thony questioning her about Dante, but instead it looks like further proof of the ‘Ramona is dying’ theory… either way, no doubt it’s going to come up between them at some point. Also lolllll at Thony’s “oh come on” expression when she sees Dante kiss Ramona (lol zero chemistry there, sorry guys) and realises she literally just accused Ramona’s boyfriend right to Ramona’s face. Oopsies. I think she might have suddenly been a bit less certain about the assurance she gave Fi about no one killing her at the wake after that?? Lol. But anyhow, now that Thony knows the truth about Marina, the next showdown between these two is bound to be even more epic…

Also it's interesting that when Jorge brings Ramona the police report and the truth about Dante, she makes a token effort to argue with him and say that Thony could be making it up, but within seconds she’s texting Dante to bring Thony down to the dock (given he literally nabs Thony like 30 seconds later). Clearly she’s not the type who hesitates about doing what needs to be done, no matter what it is, including murdering her boyfriend to cover her own ass. This woman is stone cold, that's for sure. But damn look at that Sanchez sibling swagger as they make their entrance, and the way Jorge puts on a little show about saying sorry to Thony, luring Dante into being secure enough to put his own gun away… and then Ramona gives her own little spiel about not taking betrayal lightly while Thony sputters for words to defend herself. Like yes that was absolutely meant to ~build the suspense~ for us viewers (and also to traumatise poor Fi), but also maybe it’s a sign that Thony is being considered to enter the family in a more meaningful way, and a warning for her if she does? 

But oh dude when the Morales family are having their big confrontation and Jorge learns that Eduardo and Teresa begged Ramona to let Jorge stay with them? And that she forbade them from trying to reach out to him?? He’s spent his whole life believing he knows the truth of what happened, to the point where he genuinely hates his own brother for it (and spent years resenting Arman as well) but now he’s starting to realise that maybe he’s only ever been fed her version, and that she may have manipulated him all along?? Oooh, that’s really going to ramp up the sibling tension a whole lot more for the rest of the season. And speaking of which, I saw someone suggest somewhere (sorry to whoever it was, I looked but couldn’t find the post again, happy to credit you if you let me know) that maybe Ramona actually had Jorge’s wife Vanessa killed to stop her from ‘stealing’ him away from her/the business, and oh man that would definitely make things interesting! Tbh atm I’m having a hard time imagining him fully turning on Ramona, even with the truth about her involvement with Arman’s abduction, but if he learns she killed Vanessa… well, that would be something to see.

Jeremy (ugh).

Ngl, really appreciated that Thony’s thoughts seemed to be echoing my own sentiments when I immediately yelled “Oh, fuck off, Jeremy!” the moment he appeared on the screen. Honestly I hate this guy so much, and I hate that even after costing them Arman, he’s still here, still invading their space and their private grief. Given Nadia’s very convenient building explosion and the insurance payout that her new lawyer was able to push through suspiciously fast, and also the fact that Nadia previously told Russo that a cartel had taken Arman, Russo is clearly after anyone and everyone she can possibly take out in the criminal world, and so she’s keeping Jeremy undercover because she knows that Thony is tied up in it all somehow. All Jeremy’s ‘casual’ questions are really grating on me, and it makes me wonder exactly what happened on the cliff after Arman’s car went off the edge… like the FBI were right behind them, so I’m assuming that he and Thony and Fi were all taken in for individual questioning by the FBI? But how would that have worked for Fi, given the FBI knew she was deported like a month ago?? I’m guessing we’re just supposed to ignore that, and to assume that the FBI let them go after ‘believing’ their story. Certainly letting them go would have been the smarter move, because they knew that they had Jeremy right there as a mole to get the kind of information that the women would never give up? But ugh damn the stress of the Velorio situation making Thony so distracted and eager to get away that she agrees to let this guy put cameras up in their house!! Girl, no!!!! Now he has cameras to see exactly who is coming and going from your house, cameras that he can access at any time!! And then omg Fi you also let him access the smoke detector, where he could plant a bug??? Goddamn this guy and his smooth lies-- like how much of that story about his dad on 9/11 do you think was fake? Probably all of it, just like everything else about him ugh. The FBI boys in this show sure do love sob stories about their dads (though at least Garrett’s was true!). But seriously, charismatic as this guy is, could these two stop being so chill about leaving him unattended in their house???? 

Promo spoilers.

Okay I know I don’t usually talk much about the promos for next ep during these recaps, but damnnn it looks so intense that I need to unpack it lol. First, Thony seems to have some kind of nightmare about Sin Cara, and ugh, what if she sees Arman in it? I'm not ready for how she'd react to that. And then the clip of her looking all tearstained (maybe the next morning?) telling Fi “If Ramona had anything to do with this, she has to pay”? Damn, she's really gonna do it, she's going to go up against the cartel version of The Godfather. (And you know what? She's gonna win.) But I’m curious which scene is going to happen first; Thony in the grungy apartment with Jorge and Ramona  (with Ramona telling Jorge to shoot her, and him seeing the ‘Marin’ writing) or Thony coming to see her in the art gallery in that red dress?? (the last time she wore that, Arman killed someone for her. Is this a sign she’s going to return the favour and kill Ramona??). At this point I'm definitely assuming the apartment stuff happens first, and obviously Jorge refuses and doesn’t shoot Thony, and he confronts Ramona about the Marina thing; and so having him sort of on her side (or at least, no longer so firmly on Ramona's) will help her be bold enough to confront Ramona at the gallery. Thony’s comment about the things people do when they have nothing to lose is interesting; I’m assuming it’s directed at Ramona, and maybe about the fact that she’s dying??? (Obviously it can’t be about Thony because she has plenty to lose.) Anyway ugh I’m so pissed about fucking Jeremy somehow weaseling his way into The Cleaning Ladies as well as their personal life?? Can someone please kill this guy already.  One of the clips looks like Thony’s dragging his body across a floor (you can see a glimpse of the light blue shirt on a man-sized body, so it makes sense that it’s him), and too bad we know he’s involved in the filming for later episodes, bc I would have absolutely thrown a party if he died this ep lol. Oh well, there's always hope for Thony to kill him in the finale haha

Anyway I think that's (finally) all for this week, and while it's going to suck waiting a whole extra week for next ep, at least they gave us one of the best episodes of the entire show so far to tide us over until then.

As always, I'm super happy to chat about this show so feel free to reply/send me an ask if you have anything you wanna contribute!

[gaymaramada]

To Her Tree

Summary:

“How could she just run off like that?”

“She was clearly upset.”

“That wasn’t upset, that was…”

(In the aftermath of Ruby’s ascension, a team is lost.)

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences.

Tags/Warnings: Temporary Major Character Death, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Panic Attacks, Angst, Found Family.

Relationships: All of Team RWBY, Ruby Rose & Yang Xiao Long, Blake Belladonna/Yang Xiao Long.

Word Count: 1,281

Ao3 Link:

Yang can’t breathe.

The corners of her vision are blurring — black spots appear and disappear in her peripheral, and try as she might, she can’t focus on them without being hit by a wave of dizziness. Her legs are wobbly underneath her and she feels like a baby deer fresh from her mother’s womb. The world around her begins to tilt, and she vaguely realizes that she’s falling when her head jerks forward as someone catches her. She’s carefully guided to the floor, and when she blinks away the spots in her vision, she sees two suns.

“… eas… got you… ‘m here…” The voice is soft — too soft, she can hardly hear anything as is — but it brings a sense of comfort to her heart that feels akin to a warm blanket.

“…ave to brea …ocus on me…breathe,” As conscious thought gradually returns to her, Yang finally realizes that the two suns staring down at her are actually eyes — faded purple eyeshadow and smudged mascara — and the voice almost startles her with how clear it is as she speaks again, “There you go, I’ve got you. I’m here.”

“…Blake,” She croaks, her mouth dry and tongue heavy in her mouth. She can hardly get anything else out, “Ru…Rube…”

“We’re going to find her,” Blake says, and she sounds so sure that Yang almost believes her, “We’ll bring her home. I promise.”

Her fingers are brushing through her bangs, occasionally getting stuck in a tangle or two before carefully loosening them and continuing. The action is meant to be soothing, but right now, all Yang can think of is rosy cheeks and silver eyes, and her breathing stutters again.

Blake opens her mouth to soothe her once more when her ear perks up at the sound of Weiss’ voice — it’s high-pitched and frantic, trying desperately to sound at least the slightest bit controlled, “And how exactly are we going to do that? Gods, okay— I can summon a lancer, maybe we can fly to the tree and—”

“The tree?” Jaune cuts in now — he sounds utterly devastated, “Haven’t you learned anything? That tree is—”

“You don’t know anything about the tree!” Weiss cries, “None of us do! The only person who did was that lousy two-faced vermin, and they’re already on their way to do Gods know what with Neo’s body!”

Yang’s head is throbbing, and she moves to rest her hand on her forehead — the cool metal is grounding, bringing her back to reality steadily — as Blake carefully sits her up. It’s only then that she realizes she’d been lying in the other’s lap, but she doesn’t even have it in her to feel flustered. The pile of vines in front of her makes sure of that.

Above her, Blake’s ears are folded anxiously, her voice trembling slightly when she speaks, “Guys, please—”

“The only thing waiting for us there is death,” Jaune rasps, his voice cracking, “Once a person ascends, they’re gone. Forever. We were too late— damn it, we were too late, and now— now Ruby is—”

“Stop it!” Blake cries, her hold on Yang tightening, “You said it yourself, Jaune: Nothing here is that straightforward! If ascension is rebirth like the afterans said, then it has to be some sort of process, right? We can still get to her before—”

“But then what?” Weiss’ voice strains with emotion, “What do we tell her if we find her? We all saw her drink from that cup — we saw the look in her eyes. She chose to ascend. How are we supposed to fix this?”

“We can’t.”

Yang’s voice cuts through the tension — it sounds so small, but its power to overtake all others never wavers. Slowly, as Blake hovers nearby, she stands up. Her eyes never leave the vines that have taken place of where her sister once lay, “We can’t fix this.”

Blake takes her hand into her own, her eyes pleading, “Yang…”

Yang meets her gaze, but not with empty, hopeless grief — her eyes shimmer with unshed tears, but also with sparks of golden fire that lick at her irises. Her voice is low and steady — a solid bastion among the crumbling towers around her, “Don’t you understand? This… this goes so much deeper than anything we could ever imagine.”

She turns back to the vines, shoulders tense, “What Ruby’s been dealing with, what she’s been shouldering, she’s been holding it for a long time. Before Atlas, maybe even before Beacon.”

Her words echo in the empty chamber, the only other sounds being the soft breathing of the others and the Juniper’s soft trills as they nuzzle against Jaune in consolation. Yang lifts her hands to look down at them — her left arm is shaking something awful, and her right one is artificially still in comparison.

“And that burden,” She continues, “is going to stay with her for the rest of her life.”

Blake rests her hand on Yang’s forearm, squeezing gently, and Yang reciprocates the action with a shaky sigh. She lifts her gaze to meet the others — Weiss is blinking away tears, her hands cupped over her chest as she seems to curl into herself. Jaune rests his head against Juniper’s, his eyes shut tight and his jaw stiff as he shakily strokes the jackelope’s fur. Blake looks at her with shining eyes, a tear slipping down her cheek as her ears fold down pitifully.

“We can’t fix Ruby,” Yang states, “but we can still help her.”

Lowered gazes all rise, and Yang feels a spark ignite in her heart, “We can still be there for her — help her in carrying that burden. We can still be the shoulders she can lean on when it all becomes too much, but before we can do any of that, she needs to know that we see her.”

She turns to look out into the sky, the daunting figure of the tree towering over them, then back to the others, her eyes locking onto Jaune’s, “You can believe whatever you want, but if getting to that tree means that I can save my little sister, then I’m not letting anything stand in my way.”

The man’s eyes harden slightly, his brows creasing in a mix of apprehension and shame as he retreats from her gaze to glance at Juniper. Weiss speaks up before he can think of a response, “Ruby’s in the same place we all were when we first came to Beacon. We all thought we knew why we wanted to be huntresses, but…”

“We still had so far to go,” Blake finishes somberly, “But Ruby… Gods, Ruby has always seemed so sure of herself — how much of that was just for show?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Yang states, “We can’t help her by giving her what she needed then — what’s important is finding out what we can do for her now.”

That being said, Yang strides over to the hole in the wall that they’d entered from. Mist from the rain sprinkles onto her face, blending with the tears that manage to slip down her cheeks — it does nothing to kill the flame of resolve currently burning in her heart. She takes a slow, deep breath, then turns around to her teammates, and is pleased to be met with matching looks of determination — Weiss sets her hand on the hilt of Myrtenaster, her jaw set and her chin high. Blake’s expression is pouring out love, her ears perked up and focused. Even Jaune turns to mount Juniper, leading them into view as he nods toward her with respect.

“Come on,” Yang declares, her voice sharp as she rolls her shoulders, “Let’s go save our leader.”

[antvnger]

(( for some reason I can’t stop thinking about an au where Hope and Scott were trapped in the quantum realm at the end of quantumania and come back years later …. Imagine how utterly utterly devastating it would be for Scott to miss any more years of Cassie’s life… imagine she’s a young avenger by then and he’s so proud but so completely heartbroken that he missed her entire journey to get there … ))

((You know what, Anon, I feel this tense recoiling in my chest, like it’s a defensive/protective move, and I’m gonna take that as Scott not wanting me to explore that idea.

You know, kinda like the whole “what if what if what if oh God what if?!…..don’t overthink it, Scott!” scene.

So I’m not gonna jump down that rabbit hole today.))

((But that really would be devastating and that better not happen LET MY MAN SPEND MORE THAN 24 HOURS WITH HIS DAUGHTER, MARVEL OKAY?!?! 😭😭😭😭))

[onetimetwotimesthreetimess]

Are you still writing what if scenarios?

If yes, what if Alec did lose his memory during that hospital scene?

Would he forget Magnus entirely?

Or

Would he only forget the last year and some months, and think he and Magnus were still dating?

I wrote that little scene just to fuck with everyone lol but the idea for the amnesia au stemmed from that only. Here’s a what-if for that scene. I think if LRHWY Alec had amnesia, he wouldn’t just forget Magnus. He would lose his entire memory. But that would be a longer what-if, so I’m writing one where Alec forgets the last three years.

“What happened?”

Izzy grimaces at the question. “I—I don’t know how to explain, Alec. There’s no one thing.”

Alec doesn’t understand. It seems like a colossal mistake, the worst twist of fate, a cruel joke that he doesn’t remember.

Why can’t he fucking remember?

“Can I please talk to him?” He pleads.

Izzy hesitates before sighing. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Izzy leaves him alone in the room and in the suffocation of the room, Alec feels like crying, but his body is so battered and exhausted that he doesn’t have any tears left him in now.

After what must be hours or days or weeks, Magnus enters the room and he seems like the picture of devastation.

He seems sad, right?

Alec doesn’t ever want Magnus sad but maybe it means that he still has feelings for Alec.

Magnus crosses the room and sits in the chair next to Alec, keeping his distance.

Something aches inside him to hold Magnus’s hand but he doesn’t know if he has the privilege left.

He still begs on the inside.

Please hold my hand, baby.

They sit in silence for god knows how long and Alec feels utterly heartbroken by the distance and silence. It has never been like this between the two of them.

He remembers the good times, and the bad ones too.

If Magnus can forgive Alec for the accident, what horrible thing he must have done for Magnus to leave him after that?

He knows he probably fucked up—he just doesn’t know how.

“What happened?” He asks the same question, his eyes watery, hands shaking slightly.

Magnus’s eyes meet his and Alec can’t help but stare into them. It feels like it’s been years since he’s looked into them, and maybe his heart knows his too.

Alec’s mind doesn’t remember but, his heart can feel a familiar ache.

It can feel the longing.

It can feel the heartbreak.

“You shouldn’t push yourself so much, right now. You need to rest, Alec.”

Alec.

Not Alexander.

The hurt turns into anger for some inexplicable reason—or maybe the fact that everyone keeps on walking on eggshells and no one will tell him what happened.

No one will tell him why Magnus broke up with him. And no one will tell him how Alec’s still alive because right now, his chest is burning with sadness and anguish and it’s only been three days since he’s found out about the breakup and the fact that Magnus and he have been broken up for a year.

That they even dated for four since Alec only remembers the first two.

What happened in the remaining three?

Everyone keeps on narrating the same ‘life happened’ lines and ‘you both loved each so much, it just didn’t work out’ and Alec is goddamn frustrated and tired with that reasoning.

He knows how much they loved each other because he can feel it inside his chest.

It’s all there inside of him and he doesn’t know what to do with all of it.

He needs to know the rest of it.

Maybe having the conversation while he was hooked to machines isn’t the best idea but it doesn’t seem like anything matters right now—doesn’t know why he survived a breakup and a fire just to end up having retrograde amnesia and forgetting the last three years of his life.

“Can you all stop with the bullshit? What happened, Magnus?” He asks, heatedly now.

Magnus’s eyes turned more hollow at that and then Alec sees an unrecognisable pain in his eyes.

For a second, Alec doesn’t want to know.

He wonders if he had another accident and hurt Magnus worse this time.

“We hurt each other.” Magnus says simply and Alec doesn’t believe it one bit because his Magnus can’t ever hurt anyone.

A single tear drops from his eyes and Alec’s hand doesn’t have the strength to brush it off.

“I don’t—I don’t understand, baby.”

Magnus stills at the term of endearment and oh—

Present Alec probably doesn’t call him that anymore.

Alec hates present Alec from the bottom of his heart because Magnus is and always will be his baby.

“Did I hurt you again? Is that why you left me?” He blurts out, wanting to itch the scratch on his skin.

Fuck he needs to punch something.

Magnus pauses for a long hard minute before a soft sob escapes his lips and all Alec wants to do is wrap him in his arms.

“I’m not the one who left you, Alec.” Magnus whispers. “It was the other way around.”

And Alec doesn’t understand a lot of things in the world.

He doesn’t seem to get cryptocurrency and NFT bullshit, doesn’t care about cancel culture and how people can’t believe in climate change.

He doesn’t understand so many things in the world but this—this seems something unfathomable, even for him.

This, he doesn’t want to understand.

Because what in the ever living fuck does Magnus mean that Alec left him?

[thedramanotes]

The Great Misunderstanding Trope From Ye Olde K-dramas

Hello. So, I wanted to chat some more about this well known trope in Korean dramas from the 2000s and early 2010s.

Or if you ever picked up a romance novel from the eighties or nineties, this was one of the major tropes used there too.

I'm talking about the Great Misunderstanding trope.

Not that it ever went out of fashion exactly, but in the late 2000s, early 2010s, this had quite a resurgence and was used in pretty much every dramatic romance drama.

A drama that really exemplifies how dramatic this trope could get was secret from 2013, which had Ji Sung and Hwang Jung-eum.

There was a LOT of misunderstandings in that drama.

Now, typical of this trope is that the hero would be drawn towards the heroine despite believing the absolute worst of her. And the heroine would be in a situation where she can't clear up his misunderstanding for one reason or the other. Maybe she doesn't know that he believes the worst of her, or she's trying to protect somebody.

Maybe she's even trying to protect him.

And the hero's behavior gets really egregious, because on the one hand, he is terribly drawn to her almost helplessly. But on the other hand, he believes she is a really horrible human being. He's constantly experiencing inner turmoil because of her, and this crisis of feelings and beliefs makes him lash out at the heroine.

Since he believes the worst of her, his behavior towards her is the worst, and this is a key point of this trope.

The hero is constantly horrible to the heroine at this juncture of their relationship. While the heroine is either helpless to resist or hit back, or unwilling to hurt the hero in return.

Maybe because she's just a genuinely good person and she just has a high tolerance for pain, like Hwang Jung-eum in Secret or she is protecting him, like Han Ga-in in Moon Embracing the Sun, when she comes back into the life of the king and the king believes that she is an imposter sent to like mess with his head because she looks so much like his first love and throws her in the prison for three days where she doesn't even get like a drop of water.

And while she is barely alive, he's just going about his life feeling disturbed that the situation happened, but not really thinking about her condition. And of course then her character goes through several other trials, which he could have put a stop to and would have put a stop to if he knew that she was indeed his first love and not an imposter.

But, of course that would completely skip over this period where the heroine suffers at the hands of his enemies and he just lets it happen. But because of this period of suffering, the hero later on feels abject remorse towards the heroine. He is utterly guilt ridden because she had to suffer so much because of him.

And added to that aspect is the fact that she never hit back at him. She was never horrible to him in return. This heroine is usually extremely Gandhian in her approach to the hero, turning the other cheek and all that. She is virtue herself.

And once the hero realizes that about the heroine and he grovels at her feet and the she gets a moment to be like, "I don't hold anything against you, but I may need two years abroad to rethink life and to come back more deserving of you."

That's a whole other trope, but the point is that she gets a moment to sort of get the upper hand in the relationship. Now, this is an interesting aspect of this trope, this upper hand. The relationship dynamic between the hero and the heroine is such that the hero usually occupies a higher position in society.

He is richer, more powerful, maybe he's a celebrity. Either ways. He's in a different, entirely different strata than the heroine. And the heroine is really weak. Maybe she has been emotionally devastated by something that has happened in her life. She's definitely financially in a weaker position and probably also socially from a different class.

This huge class gap is one of the major reasons that this trope exists, and we'll come back to that in a second. The heroine starts the journey in this really weak position, but at the end of the story, the heroine is barely the hero's equal, and the way she becomes his "equal" is by getting the moral upper hand.

And the upper hand doesn't really put her in a higher position than him. It's not like for the rest of their life, they're going to have arguments and she'll bring up what he had done before and he'll be like, yes, you win every argument ever. No, that's not what the story is going for.

The story is making very sure we understand that the gap between them at the start of the story is so huge that the hero finally understanding the heroine's true virtues and how good she is, and that she had never done those awful things he believed of her and that she had suffered in silence while he tortured her - all of those things and the hero's guilt barely brings the hero up to be kind of his equal, at least equal enough that now they can have a relationship.

The heroine comes up in the world, hero doesn't go down at all. He loses only one thing, and that is the right to look down on the heroine, and that is an important aspect of the Great misunderstanding because as you might have noticed till now, I have been specifically telling you about how the hero is the one doing the misunderstanding, the heroine is the one being misunderstood. This particular trope usually flows in this fixed direction. The genders are pretty much fixed.

Occasionally they try to flip it, but the dynamic immediately becomes weaker and the story isn't as interesting.

I'm sure the dramas of decades before this period also had the great misunderstanding used liberally, but it was used to an excessive amount during that period, the late 2000s, early 2010s.

And the reason for that was that the class difference was still quite huge. And women still had fewer opportunities. They were coming up, but they were not quite there yet. And you have to understand, Korean dramas were primarily written for middle aged women who were housewives and/or working. And for most of them, their economic strata was kind of fixed.

There wasn't really a lot of opportunity to come up in the world in the decade after that. Even though the real world wealth gap hasn't exactly decreased, but you must have noticed that dramas no longer tell the stories of really poor women and really rich men. They tell the stories of really rich men and women who are middle to upper class, but don't feel inferior to these rich men.

Their upbringings, even though there is definitely a difference in wealth, no longer makes the two feel like they are from different worlds in terms of the education they got, the exposure they have in the world.

So, from the heroine's perspective, the gap between the two of them doesn't seem so impossible to bridge anymore these days, but back then it was HUGE. The heroine wouldn't look at the hero and think, hey, that's a guy I want to date. The hero would look at the hero and be like, I am drawn to her, but I cannot date her.

We saw examples of this in, let's say in Secret Garden where Hyun Bin was drawn to Ha Ji-won's character. He pursued her, but not for a relationship. He just pursued her heedlessly, but then anytime she reciprocated, he would be the one to point out how much of a gap there is between the two of them and how they could never be a permanent thing.

He was willing to offer her the position of his mistress, but not his girlfriend.

Another Hyun Bin drama is, my name is Kim Sam-soon, where you also had elements of the great misunderstanding, but it was essentially that class divide that made Hyun Bin's character again look down on Kim Sun-ah. Who was poor, clumsy, supposedly overweight and definitely from a different world class-wise than Hyun Bin's character.

So the class divide really is ultimately the reason why the great misunderstanding trope existed.

But you didn't always need the great misunderstanding trope to exist in a story to talk about class. Like I just said my name is Kim Sam-soon and Secret Garden both did that really well.They actually faced the question of class divide and how two people from two different strata would overcome that.

Those stories were directly challenging the idea of the class divide.

The stories that employed the great misunderstanding didn't really want to directly talk about the class divide. They wanted to solve that problem, the problem of the woman being from a weaker section of society, and also just having like a weaker position within the relationship with the hero without really underlining what the problem was.

So why was the trope so popular at the time? Because the class divide existed in reality and the drama watching audiences wanted more stories about it. And this was a morality play where the virtuous heroine has to go through this traumatic trial by fire to prove herself.

But once she has proven herself, the hero can never doubt her again.

The hero would now forever be so grateful that she has forgiven him for his big mistake in not knowing how wonderful she is, that he will never abuse her, he will never mistrust her, he will never doubt her.

Once their love is affirmed in this way, she emerges, virtuous, victorious, and having secured the love of this man.

And if you haven't figured it out yet, the great misunderstanding trope ultimately is not about the hero being a jerk to the heroine. It's about the heroine going through a hero's journey. To finally land up in a place where she is powerful enough to be the hero's equal morally. This is a female empowerment fantasy.

This was all we wanted. We wanted the hero to acknowledge the heroine's goodness and never doubt her. And of course, we as the audience absolutely love this. We loved that the heroine was sort of the personification of goodness. She may be clumsy, she may be silly at times. She may make poor decisions. She may make us extremely frustrated because she refuses to tell the hero the truth, whatever the truth may be.

But ultimately, we absolutely love the fact that the hero, once he figured out how wrong he was, how terribly he had treated her, and how much he owes her, once that moment struck, that's when the real payoff would happen. And of course then we had dramas like Secret where they would use the great misunderstanding to create some of the steamiest moments between the hero and the heroine.

Seriously, Ji Sung and Hwang Jung-eum had the most messed up dynamic in that story, and yet it's like seared in my brain. That was crack.

Now, something else to keep in mind is that the great misunderstanding has been used in modern day romances quite liberally as well. But this - what is used these days - is the great misunderstanding lite.

Like, you have Our Beloved Summer where the hero doesn't actually know why the heroine had broken up with him and sort of misunderstands her intentions, and then years later finally figures out why she was forced to break up with him at that point.

Or you have Love Is For suckers, where the heroine realizes that the hero has feelings for her, but she's still feeling conflicted. And she also knows that another woman deeply loves the hero and she doesn't want to come between them. So, she lets the hero misunderstand her, which creates a chasm between the two of them.

So you do have these instances of misunderstanding. It's not that dramatic because there really is no great payoff. There is no groveling hero. There is no guilt. There is no internal misery. There is no irresistible attraction that is constantly pulling the hero and hero in together. And they are just dying inside because they can't be together.

It's not that dramatic anymore. It's simpler.

Which on the one hand is a good thing. It's a good thing, but it also makes for less memorable stories.

I was trying really hard to think of more instances where the misunderstanding lite trope has been used in dramas recently, and I know there have been tons.

I just don't remember because, it was not that interesting. I just think, if you have to use that trope, it's maybe worth it to go full fledged, like modernize it, make the woman less of a dish rag or flip genders, but really commit to the trope. Don't just use it as this one throwaway thing that happens for two episodes.

That is a waste of a trope that could genuinely create a lot of heat and trauma, but also, I'm sure in the hands of good writers create moments where the hero and heroine could really talk about their differences - whether it's moral, ethical, political, religious, economic, or a clash of egos - actually get into the depths of why the two of them felt so torn asunder despite being attracted to each other.

I am sure we can modernize it and still keep the drama aspect of it.

It doesn't have to be this morality tale that requires the woman to be a saint. So that she could just barely be equal to the spoiled rich hero.

------

This essay was originally published as a video on The Drama Note YouTube Channel.

[another-whump-sideblog]

Jane’s Pets Chapter 14: Protection

TWs in the tags

Previous

Masterlist

Next

Dollie stands over you, holding a drill. Her face is emotionless.

Jane didn’t bother to restrain you, this time. You can’t move at all without triggering massive pain in your leg, and even if you could, muscle spasms and cramps make it hard to control your movements.

“Dollie, please.” Your voice is a hoarse whisper. You can’t take any more pain. You know Jane won’t listen, but maybe Dollie will have mercy.

“Take your shirt off, Bunny. If you’re good, I won’t have Puppy drill your ankle.”

You slowly and awkwardly take your shirt off. There’s no point to disobeying. It’s not like she can’t drill you through your shirt.

Dollie helps you get your shirt over your head. You don’t know whether to be grateful or not.

“I got you hurt, didn’t I?” You whisper. “She said all of us would have to be punished. I got you hurt and you didn’t do anything. I’m so sorry. Please, Dollie, please don’t hurt me. I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, please.”

For just a moment, she looks absolutely devastated. But her face quickly becomes a mask of neutrality again, and you’re left to wonder if you just imagined it.

“You know what to do, Puppy.”

And Dollie starts drilling into your skin.

You try to slip away again, try to focus on a memory or a daydream or anything but the fact that your skin is being twisted and torn into. But you can’t. You are trapped in this moment, trapped in this body, and you know that you would do horrendous things to make it stop.

You try to push Dollie off of you, but you’re weak and you can’t control your muscles and she is strong and unyielding.

Dollie is very methodical, making a sizable hole before moving a couple inches to the right and making another one.

You remember what Kit told you about how the pain doesn’t get less bad, but you get used to it. You’re starting to understand, a little bit, because drilling more holes doesn’t actually make it hurt worse. It’s just a mass of pain on your torso, and you can only tell that more holes are being added by the sound of the drill stopping and starting.

Sometimes, for just a moment, the pain becomes something belonging to your body and not you, something that you can feel but are disconnected from, before you are slammed back into your body again. But you can’t disconnect from the sound of a drill meeting flesh, or the smell of your blood, or the sensation of skin breaking over and over again.

“Alright, that’s enough. Do you think you were good, Bunny?”

A small, self-destructive part of you wants to say “my name is Liam,” but you know exactly where that will lead. What did she say was left? She mentioned tearing out your fingernails and whipping you and cutting you. And putting more nails in your arm… Oh god, this isn’t even close to being over.

“Bunny?” Shit, you didn’t answer her.

“Yes, master.” You croak.

“Really? Because I thought I saw you trying to push Puppy away. We might have to drill into your ankle.”

You gasp. There’s nothing you can do to defend yourself. If she’s decided to do this, there’s no way to stop it. You are completely and utterly helpless.

Dollie looks up, staring at Jane with puppy-dog eyes. She makes a desperate whining sound.

“Aww, do you want to say something, Puppy?”

She nods aggressively.

“Hmm… I don’t know if I should reward you with something like that, after you disappointed me. You let Bunny run away.”

Dollie whines again and crawls over to Jane, gently butting her head against Jane’s thigh. Despite everything you’ve gone through, you tingle with secondhand embarrassment.

Jane sighs. “Well, you have been very good. I was going to reward you with some water, but if you’d rather say something, that can be your reward.”

Dollie nods again.

“Alright, you can speak. If only because you’re so cute.”

“Master.” Dollie’s voice is hoarse from disuse. “Bunny was good. You only told him to obey you and not say no, right? Those are his rules. He followed them. Bunny was good. There’s no need to drill his ankle. He was good.”

Jane hums thoughtfully. “I guess you’re right. If I had told him not to fight you, it would be different, but he didn’t break any rules. And I’m a fair master, aren’t I? I only punish people when they deserve it.”

Dollie nods.

You’re struggling to process what just happened. Dollie… defended you? And it worked?

It’s hard to think. You’re in pain and sleep-deprived and starving. But Dollie just sacrificed for you. She must be just as thirsty as you are, but she gave up water for a chance to spare you some pain. Your gratitude is overwhelming, choking you.

She got punished because of you and she’s making sacrifices to help you. You wish you could say that you’d do the same for her.

“Do you want to bandage Bunny up, Puppy?” Jane asks. Dollie nods.

“Alright, be quick. Make sure Bunny doesn’t fall asleep.”

Dollie carefully cleans and bandages every wound she created. It’s more than you did for Kit, after choosing their pain over yours. God, they comforted you!

You wish Dollie would go slower, give you more time to catch your breath, but you know Jane told her to be quick. She doesn’t make eye contact with you.

“Thank you.” You whisper, and she freezes for just a moment before continuing to bandage you.

A/N: Let me know if I should tag anything else!

Tag list: @eatyourdamnpears @ghostsinthecloset

[theonethatslowlyfade]

ENG: The young woman rhythmically turned the wheel of the zippo, the springs made a characteristic click. Sparks, but no flame. “Vivienne?” Silently, a word passed her lips pursed as she held the thin cigarette Bly made. A word by no means for a woman, but suppressed by her habits and by the attitude with which the family had formed her. Sure, up to a certain point... She tried again, holding the zippo closer to her and shielding it with her hand. Finally the accursed accessed with a vigorous blaze. Obviously Bly had gassed it to the brim, she thought sarcastically. She lit it, inhaling heavily and releasing a cloud of smoke. “Vivienne?” she heard again from afar. The faint voice of a little boy. "Coming, dear." She slipped the zippo into the hidden pockets under her long green skirt, which always seemed empty but were actually full of beads, skeins of sewing thread, colored buttons scattered around the Lodge. She had to keep a certain composure but in reality she was an avid collector of colored trinkets, no less the brooches that she placed in her hair styled as best she could. Looking back on it—and she checked a minute pocket watch to be sure—it was nearly noon. Why did he call her? She followed the railing of the balcony up to the narrow wooden stairs covered with a beautiful red carpet, in the typical bright color very dear to Venice. With graceful steps and barely lifting her skirt, she walked down and straight to the source of the voice. "What happens? Canteen trouble, Raven?” The child adopted in Austria by the Lodge and now grown into a young adolescent, wrapped in his raven-like overalls, shook his head vigorously. She saw him roll his eyes in surprise. "No, it's just... how, is it lunchtime already?" “I think the waitresses are about to put pots on the tables. Hot the way you like them.” Vivienne smiled confidently, seeing his small clear eyes light up with happiness. "But tell me." “Oh, and is there dessert too today?” the little one exclaimed, before stopping again. “No, sorry, I'm lost. I can't continue with my project. It seems too complicated..." "Which? The potato shooter?” "The other. The flamethrower that doesn't explode with you when you use it." “Oh, that.” The girl rolled her eyes with a half smile. The Frazers had a certain calling for desert death, she knew. Possibly devastating everything, she knew. But getting to those levels was foolish and counterproductive: Allen, what the hell had he thought when he had commissioned those contraptions? Definitely to use them actively ... and this was why she was making arrangements with Jonathan for the maintenance of the lodge in Venice. Mina did not resent it, but the ex-lawyer Harker, mentor of the Old Guard, was decidedly more familiar and less hostile. A matter of taste, she supposed. “Tell me, what's wrong?” "It is too big! It must be wearable, but I don't know how to reduce the size of the tank and the ignition, and then it should emit a continuous jet of fire but there is the problem of overheating the components and…” “For goodness sake, Raven. You know I don't understand any of these things." "But Vivienne, you know how to create those barriers to defend yourself from shots at a distance, I thought you could, I don't know, recreate that magical effect by touching the inductors that would connect..." Vivienne broke down for a moment bringing her hands to her temples. She was starting to get confused by the boy's lively babbling, and as much as she wanted to help him, with all the good intentions in the world she still wasn't prepared to carry on a long conversation with an enthusiastic little Caped Crusader. “Darling, you need to explain in simpler terms, I already told you,” she whispered, but she was saved in time by the reprise of Raven—who had absurdly short breath times—by the knocking of the kitchen bell. "Lunch is ready!" the utterly happy, blond teenager announced, almost hopping in place. She gave her half a second and she saw him running towards the delicious target, disappearing from her sight at the first corner towards the west halls of the great building. Vivienne sighed almost relieved; she narrowed her eyes and inhaled—but her cigarette had already gone out. A "Damn!" ran away from her, but fortunately the hall was already empty. Presumably everyone had two legs and normal moving speed, so Bly would take a while to get off. Time to light up and slip away to the refectory, before Hubert got up from wherever he was sleeping (strictly on the floor) and began his considerable bulk between the doors, or a very sleepy Grayson returned from the dark caverns under construction of his abode to spend some time in male company. She argued again with the lighter, looking around to decide where to leave it. The icy figure - actually endowed with less coldness than she wanted to show - her green eyes looked for a flat surface on which to leave it in sight for the Doctor, and she found that the piano was an excellent, highly visible shelf. She let out a sigh as she got closer, because she also saw her well-placed Tarot cards, left there for some time gathering dust. "Sorry, old friends." She closed her eyes, seeing the magic within them come to life as she reached out for them. She portrayed her with a grip on her heart: the San Giorgio did not see well this practice of an illiterate witch, but it was her uncle who taught her to help her better channel the magical energies when she still did not have a mentor. Then Jean Jaque in turn had considered it an excellent method of focus. Who knew what America would have in store for its comrades, too? In a rush she grabbed them and hid them in the back of her pockets, where no one could see them. She pulled yet another "Damn" realizing that the cigarette had gone out again. She switched it back on and set the zippo upright on the piano where she was sure Bly would see it before heading towards the kitchens with the vague satisfaction of having won for once, turning the cards over and over between her fingers. ITA entry 7: La giovane girò ritmicamente la ruota dello zippo, le molle fecero un click caratteristico. Scintille, ma niente fiamma. “Vivienne?” Silenziosamente, una parola passò sulle sue labbra increspate per tenere la sottile sigaretta fatta da Bly. Una parola affatto da donna, ma sopressa dalle sue abitudini e dall’attitudine con cui la famiglia l’aveva formata. Certo, fino ad un certo momento... Ci provò di nuovo, tenendo lo zippo più vicino e facendo scudo con una mano. Finalmente il maledetto si accede con una vigorosa fiammata. Ovviamente Bly l’aveva riempito di gas fino all’orlo, pensò sarcasticamente. Accese, inspirando pesantemente e rilasciando una nube di fumo. “Vivienne?” sentì di nuovo da lontano. La flebile voce di un ragazzino. “Arrivo, caro.” Infilò lo zippo nelle tasche nascoste sotto la lunga gonna verde, che sembravano sempre vuote ma in realtà erano piene di perline, matasse di filo da cucito, bottoni colorati dispersi nella Loggia. Doveva mantenere un certo contegno ma in realtà era un’avida collezionista di gingilli colorati, non meno le spille che poneva tra i capelli acconciati alla bell’emmeglio. Ripensandoci - e controllò un minuto orologio da taschino per esserne sicura - era quasi mezzodì. Perchè chiamarla? Seguì la ringhiera del balconcino fino a delle strette scale in legno ricoperte da una bella moquette rossa, nel tipico colore luminoso molto caro a Venezia. Con passi aggraziati e sollevando appena la gonna, si diresse giù e dritta alla fonte della voce. “Che succede? Problemi alla mensa, Raven?” Il bimbo adottato in Austria dalla Loggia e oramai cresciuto in un giovane adolescente, avvolto nella sua tuta dai tratti corvini, scrollò la testa vigorosamente. Lo vide alzare gli occhi con fare sorpeso. “No, è che... come, è già ora di pranzo?” “Credo che le cameriere stiano per mettere le pignatte sui tavoli. Bollenti come piacciono a te.” Vivienne sorrise confidente, vedendo i piccoli occhi chiari illuminarsi di felicità. “Ma dimmi pure.” “Oh, e c’è anche il dolce oggi?” esclamò il piccolo, prima di interrompersi di nuovo. “No, scusa, mi sono perso. Non riesco a continuare col mio progetto. Mi sembra troppo complicato...” “Quale? Lo spara-patate?” “L’altro. Il lanciafiamme che non esplode insieme a te quando lo usi.” “Oh, quello” La ragazza sollevò gli occhi al cielo con un mezzo sorriso. I Frazer avevano una certa vocazione alla morte nel deserto, lo sapeva. Possibilmente devastando tutto, lo sapeva. Ma arrivare a quei livelli era sciocco e controproducente: Allen, che diavolo aveva pensato quando aveva commissionato quei marchingegni? Sicuramente di usarli attivamente... e questo era il motivo per cui si stava organizzando con Jonathan per il mantenimento della loggia di Venezia. Che Mina non gliene volesse, ma l’ex avvocato Harker, mentore della Vecchia Guardia, le era decisamente più familiare e meno avverso. Questione di gusti, supponeva. “E dimmi, cosa non funziona?” “E’ troppo grande! Dev’essere indossabile, ma non so come ridurre le dimensioni della tanica e l’accensione, e poi dovrebbe emettere un getto di fuoco continuo ma c’è il problema del surriscaldamento dei componenti e...” “Per l’amor del cielo, Raven. Sai che non ci capisco nulla di queste cose.” “Ma Vivienne, tu sai creare quelle barriere per difendersi dai colpi a distanza, pensavo che si potrebbe, non so, ricreare quell’effetto magico andando a toccare gli induttori che collegherebbero...” Vivienne si scompose un attimo portandosi le mani alle tempie. Iniziava ad essere confusa dal vivace blaterare del bimbo, e per quanto volesse aiutarlo, con tutte le buone intenzioni del mondo non era comunque preparata a supportare una lunga conversazione con un piccolo, entusiasta Crociato Mascherato. “Caro, devi spiegarmi con termini più semplici, te l’ho già detto” sussurrò, ma venne salvata per tempo dalla reprise di Raven - che aveva tempi di respiro assurdamente brevi - dai colpi della campanella della cucina. “Il pranzo è pronto!” annunciò l’assolutamente felice, biondo adolescente quasi saltellando sul posto. Mezzo secondo e lo vide correre verso il prelibato obbiettivo, sparendo dalla sua vista al primo angolo veso le sale ad ovest della grande costruzione. Vivienne sospirò quasi sollevata; socchiuse gli occhi e aspirò - ma la sigaretta si era già spenta. “Accidenti!” le scappò, ma fortunatamente la sala era già vuota. Presubilimente tutti avevano due gambe ed una velocità normale nel farle andare, quindi Bly ci avrebbe messo un po’ a scendere. Tempo di accendere e defilarsi nel refettorio, prima che Hubert si sollevasse da dovunque si fosse messo a dormire (rigorosamente per terra) e iniziasse la sua notevole mole tra le porte, o che un Grayson molto assonnato facesse ritorno dagli antri bui in costruzione della sua dimora per stare un po’ in compagnia maschile. Litigò di nuovo con l’accendino, guardandosi attorno per decidere dove lasciarlo. L’algida figura - in realtà dotata di minor freddezza di quanto volesse dare a vedere - cercò con gli occhi verdi una superficie piana su cui lasciarlo in vista per il Dottore, e trovò che il pianoforte fosse un ottimo, visibilissimo ripiano. Si lasciò sfuggire un sospiro quando, avvicinandosi, vide anche i suoi Tarocchi ben riposti, lasciati lì da un po’ di tempo a prendere polvere. “Mi spiace, vecchi amici.” Chiuse gli occhi, intravedendo la magia che li permeava prendere vita mentre allungava una mano verso di loro. La ritrasse con una morsa nel cuore: i San Giorgio non vedevano bene questa sua pratica da strega illetterata, ma era stato proprio suo zio ad insegnargliela per aiutarla ad incanalare meglio le energie magiche quando ancora non aveva un mentore. Poi Jean Jaque a sua volta l’aveva considerata un ottimo metodo di focus. Chi poteva sapere cos’avrebbe riservato l’America ai suoi compagni, inoltre? In un impeto li prese e li nascose sul fondo delle tasche, dove non poteva vederli nessuno. Tirò l’ennesimo “Accidenti” accorgendosi che la sigaretta si era spenta di nuovo. La riaccese e posò lo zippo in piedi sul pianoforte, dov’era sicura che Bly l’avrebbe visto, prima di dirigersi verso le cucine con la vaga soddisfazione di aver vinto per una volta, girando e rigirando le carte tra le dita.

[myobmaya]

It's been almost 24hrs since part 4 came out and I have not stopped thinking about it. It was so fucking good. Seriously, you're so talented. I'm so excited to see where this series goes and so happy you decided to share it with all of us.

(ps: after your fic that I realized I am way more attached to him than I thought. Stood in my dark kitchen after reading part 4 just thinking of how absolutely devastated they must have been and it had me crying all over again.)

Also I can't stop thinking about their goodbye and how well you wrote it. Okay I'm rambling now so I'm gonna go - I am utterly blown away by you, tybye. 🖤

I want you to know that I screenshotted this and sent it to so many people because this touched me so much. Thank you, thank you for this. I’m so happy you like this series!!

Yes, he’s so special to us. I love writing for him so to not have him in this kills me!!

I was so nervous to post this because of their goodbye!! I kept going back in. Changing. Deleting. Rewording. I wanted it to be executed in a way that both emotions could be felt. Thank you so much for this I can’t say it enough!! I am blown away by you

😭💖

[lab-trash]

Villain Arcane

Hopefully you’re just as impatient as I am and want this next chapter.

Chapter List 

When they got home, Oliver stayed silent. He didn’t know why, but he was afraid to speak.

No. That was a lie. He didn’t want to speak of it. It made him seem weak. 

That still wasn’t why…

Kaz was antsy for the first hour or so, waiting for Chase to return. But after that hour passed, he started feeling worse, anxious, utterly terrified.

After an hour and a half, he started calling frantically— both on the radio and on his phone.

Nothing. 

At one point he left the living room and went down to Mission Command. He wasn’t supposed to go to Mission Command without supervision, but no one stopped him. 

Only moments later, he returned frantically. 

“Chase is missing,” He said. He immediately started pacing. Oliver repositioned in his seat of guilt. 

“What do you mean he’s missing?” Bree asked. She was slightly annoyed, having to deal with Kaz’s presumably irrational anguish for the past hour or so. 

“I just checked his GPS signal,” Kaz said, his body tense with familiar anger. It was just like their first day as a team. “Guess where it was!” The rest of the team exchanged looks but all shrugged. “Nowhere! It’s completely offline!” He sat down on the couch, his anger and frustration dissolved into fear and sadness. “I-I can’t lose anyone else, I-I can’t lose him.”

“You won’t,” Skylar said. “First things first, turn on your radios. Keep them on you and on at all times,” She said. “Second, I’ll speed around the city and look for him.” She looked firmly at Kaz. “We won’t lose him.”

“I’ll come with you,” Bree said. “We can cover more ground.” They exchanged a nod before simultaneously speeding out. 

Oliver moved closer to his friend.

“I’m sure he’s not hurt.”

Oliver didn’t know why, but he trusted Marcus. He didn’t understand it. But he also couldn’t help it. He was sure that Marcus wouldn’t hurt Chase. Wouldn’t hurt family. 

“How… How can you be sure, Oliver?” Kaz asked, his voice on the line between anger and devastation. 

“I… I just am,” Oliver said. 

It was like there was a force keeping him from talking about it. He knew that was ridiculous, but he just couldn’t do it. 

“I know we’re best friends,” Kaz said, “But Chase is… I don’t even know, but I care about him so much. More than anything. More than I cared about Mighty Med, about my action figures, my comics. I care about him so much. I can’t lose him too, i-it’ll kill me.”

“You’re not going to lose him, you’re his best friend,” Oliver said. 

Skylar and Bree entered the room again. 

“Nowhere,” Bree said. 

“Yeah, me neither,” Skylar said. “You know what though, something I noticed?” Kaz stared intently. “The warehouse was still intact.” She shifted her stance to stand in front of Oliver. “What are you not telling us?” 

Oliver swallowed. 

“Uh,” He hesitated. “I… wasn’t the one on the radio earlier,” He admitted. “And neither was Chase.”

Kaz looked at Bree.

“Was it you?” He asked, a bit fearfully.

“What? No! I mean, I know vocal manipulation is… oh no…” She let out a shaky, nervous breath. “Oliver, who was it?”

“I don’t—”

“Who was there, Oliver,” Bree urged. “If you don’t know his name, explain him! Now!”

“Marcus.”

The entire room seemed to snap, breaking into silence. 

“Marcus,”  Kaz repeated. “You didn’t think that was important to mention earlier?”

“I can’t believe this…” Bree muttered, pulling her fingers through the roots of her hair. 

“Oliver, why would you keep this from us?” Skylar asked. “You must know how terrible he is.”

“What?” Oliver asked.

The only knowledge Oliver had about Marcus was what he was told. How was it that these three knew about him? Well, Bree made sense, but Skylar and Kaz.

“You guys never told him?” Skylar asked Bree. 

“I-I thought Chase did! I mean, I never told Kaz, Chase did!” 

“Marcus tried to kill them, Oliver,” Kaz said. “You… tell me you didn’t leave Chase with him.”

“He said he’d never hurt family,” Oliver said. Bree rolled her eyes. “A-And he threatened to kill me if I didn’t leave— I didn’t have a choice!” 

Kaz stood up, facing the wall, yanking his hands into his hair like Bree had only seconds earlier.

“I-I can’t believe this. I-I’m going to lose him!” He turned back around. “It’s over.”

“It might not be over,” Skylar said, holding onto hope. “I’ll search the warehouse, now that I know I can,” She said. “See what I can find.”

As she said, she sped off. The rest of them just stood in silence, waiting for her return— which of course came quickly. 

“He wasn’t there,” She said. She held out a piece of paper, “But this was.” 

Bree took the paper immediately. 

“How long did it take for Oliver to crack? I’m betting an hour,” She read. “Don’t worry, Chase is fine. For now. I don’t see myself hurting him any time soon, but who’s to say. I just needed to do some more research.

“- Marcus. PS, Oli, I’ll be waiting for you.”

“So he’s okay!” Oliver said, more defensively than he’d like to admit. 

“Yeah, for now,” Bree spat.

“We could’ve stopped this. If you’d told us sooner, we could’ve gotten there before Marcus fled!” Skylar argued. 

“No,” Bree interrupted. “He probably left only seconds after we did. He’s an android, which means he can use more than one bionic at once as long as he’s smart about it. He probably used his strength and speed and left.” 

“There has to be some way to find him,” Kaz pleaded, his voice shaking. 

“I’m sure that there is,” Bree said, “But it’s going to take some time. I need to get Mr Davenport and Douglas here, a-and probably AJ. With them working together, we can tap into Marcus’s GPS, and find him that way,” She said. “I’ll go call them,” She began to walk away, but stopped. She put her hand on Kaz’s shoulder. “We’ll find him,” She pressed before dashing to her room. 

Kaz sighed and sat back down, followed by Skylar. 

“What if we don’t,” Kaz muttered. Skylar put her arm around Kaz’s shoulders and pulled him closer. 

“We have to,” She said, “He’s too important.”